Toot Toot!

Yesterday was a day of accomplishments.  In the morning I usually make a list of what needs to be done on any given day, and I consider it a good day if I can cross off one by dark.  Yesterday, I got everything on the list done, and then went over the top and did more.  How did that happen?!  Probably because I turned off the news and tuned in to some '50s-60's music...the music of my era.  I remember cruising Colorado Blvd. and learning/practicing new dance steps with girlfriends, starting with Bill Hayley and the Comets playing Rock Around The Clock.  Good times with good people.

I may try it again today.  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Drat!

As much as I hate to and as much as it goes against my grain, I'm going to have to ask for help from the computer nerds (and I mean that in a good way).  On our afternoon walk yesterday, the sun was hitting the hill across the road in a spectacular way, highlighting the golds and shades of green, and I really wanted to share that view.  I got a great shot and sent it to the computer, and that's where everything came to a screeching halt.  Ever since the last "update," I simply cannot figure out how to share a photo to the blog.  It either gets deleted or sent off to some never-neverland, never to be seen again.  It's maddening!  You'll have to take my word, it was a picture worth sharing.  This place isn't called Farview for nothing; there are daily photo-ops and I've taken literally hundreds and hundreds of shots.  I'd like to share pictures of Michael now that he's grown back his beautiful thick coat after his self-created summer butch-haircut.  Yeah, good luck with that.  Drat!

Remember once upon a time when I said I wasn't going to share a meal with Michael?  He knows me better than I know myself, and has me well trained.  Whenever I bring in a plate or bowl for a meal or snack, Michael appears from nowhere, sometimes from a deep sleep.  "What are we having today?" (emphasis on we).  "Why, yes, I do like Cheerios, and that yam is pretty tasty, too.  I'll have another bite, please."  Michael is nothing if not well mannered.  The one reject is carrots, neither cooked nor raw.  He's very polite and doesn't refuse the offer, but I find the pieces later tucked under his blanket.  Everyone to his own taste.

We are having a spell of absolutely perfect fall weather.  Remind me of this when we're in the depths of winter.

Guess what I'm hearing right now...a flock of geese just flew over, headed south for the season.  What a terrific sight.  I'd take a picture, but no.  Drat.

Stay safe.  Be well.

What's Left?

I discovered the antidote to Thursday's pity party.  What remains after a big Thanksgiving dinner?  What do you send  home with every guest?  Leftovers!  On Thursday, I would have cried in my gravy if I'd heated that TV dinner.  Yesterday, I plunked it in the microwave and hoped for the best.  Well, it was great!  It was just like having a plate of leftovers, which I would have eaten alone after Thanksgiving anyhow.  I'm not above playing tricks on my mind, especially when they have such a good outcome.  I might add that TV dinners have come a long way from those I remember from the '50s.  This one was actually delicious.

More leftovers came my way in the afternoon.  Cameron's church had held a big food drive, planning to serve those in need in the area.  Down in the valley, the news has been showing miles of cars and maybe thousands of people waiting in line for donated food, and the church wanted to help the community up here.  For whatever reason, not many showed up, and many well-packed boxes of nonperishable food were left.  Cameron and his friends were driving around, giving to those they thought could use it.  Cameron is aware of my aversion to shopping, and he thought of me.  We talked a bit while I thanked him, and he was off and away.  Omigosh, the box wasn't big, but so heavy I had to drag it into the house, packed with rice and pasta, cans of sauces, beans and soups, even canned fruit.  I hope Cameron knows that nothing will go to waste.

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Big Baby

I hate to admit it, but I fell into a blue funk full of the poor-pitiful-me's yesterday.  I had thought the turkey TV dinner would give some sense of the holiday, but couldn't bring myself to heat it.  It would have been a sham at best.  I took refuge in my usual way...I slept, waking up to take Michael out.  I don't plan these somnolent events, but they're my way of coping.  That's what big babies do.

If nothing else, I'm well rested today.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Different

Almost 7 a.m. and here I sit at the computer.  On any other Thanksgiving in the past, the turkey, stuffed to the gills, would already be in the oven and I'd be moving on to other traditional dishes.  Three kinds of homemade cranberry sauce would have been made yesterday, and that's not counting the canned cranberry jelly that Craig always wanted.  Last year we broke the norm with KFC.  That was okay because we were all together.

This year is different.  No hugs, no kisses, no Kids, and that's because the love for each other is there.  They live out in the world and I do not, but no one is safe from the virus and none of us could bear to be the source of infection.  I had very satisfying calls from Deb and Dave yesterday.  It wasn't the same, but the sound of their voices was like touching their hands.  It will have to do.

TV dinners originated in 1953.  They were all the rage back then, and everybody had TV trays so we didn't have to miss an episode of 'The Life Of Riley' (William Bendix), Milton Berle, or 'Amos And Andy.'  I haven't had a TV dinner in decades, probably not since the '50s, but I'm having one today.  I sure wasn't going to roast a turkey just for me, but it's my nod to the holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  It will be different, but the tradition will go on.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Not One Thing

It was another beautiful morning.  Lately I've been a little wary as we walk out, wondering if the legs could make it the long way around or if we'd need to take a shortcut.  Yesterday I rejoiced, and I'm sure Michael did, too, as we made the full circuit.  We were on the home stretch when Michael wanted to make a little side trip down to the chickenless pen.  The fallen leaves are about ankle deep on the slope, but we were going slow, crunching as we went.  I'm guessing it was one of those hidden slender, twiggy bits that tripped me up and I went down for a three-point landing...two knees and a nose.  I think they call that a faceplant.  Michael was appropriately concerned at my unusual behavior.  Getting up is always a struggle these days, but I made it and we went to the house, me back to hobbling, without further delay.  The nose isn't broken, but swollen.  I look like I'd gone a round or two with Primo Carnera or Max Baer (champion boxers from the '30s).

If it's not one thing, it's another.

Stay safe.  Be well.

On The Mend

I once worked for a doctor who, when asked if he needed anything, invariably answered, "Time and a kind word."  That would be me, although I will say that I need a little more time than I used to these days.  I might add that I have appreciated the kind words, but find it funny that the word 'stubborn' seemed to work its way into every conversation.  I don't know where people get that impression; couldn't be farther from the truth, trust me.

Since I'm not quite ready to jump on a trampoline, not much got done yesterday but the essentials.

Stay safe.  Be well.