Picking

We picked the lamp from the trash room from the first place we lived in Boston. Had to replace the socket, and I thought it so ugly,until turned on, which made a big difference. Today, a yard sale, and for $7,a companion table, now that we’ve rearranged the living room. Chipped plaster and poured “granite”, looks fine, really.

Cleaned and replaced the felt before bringing it inside. Moths got in the last time, on a box, we think, due to insufficient cleaning care once.

I’m learning.

Always learning.

Mirror photos, cats bathing.

Mom had this game for me, I’d walk around the house looking down into a mirror, pretending I was walking on the ceiling.

Yeah

Looking up the lyrics for Let Your Yeah be Yeah, The Pioneers, great ska song. I prefer The Selecters version, but can’t find it anywhere but our own iTunes. Anyway. About being straightforward and honest. Came across Let your yes be yes, a biblical quotation from Sermon on the Mount, Matthew, about not swearing an oath on gods name. Which is a different, related idea. Deceit often involves massive assurance that the liar is telling the truth. Which, with a bit of experience, most people learn. Likewise related to people who keep pushing for a yes after being given a firm No.

My mother explained clearly that no meant no, and pressure would not only not reverse the no, but earn punishment. I learned that lesson deeply, and never waffle once I’ve stated my decision.

I think this has been part of why I get a reputation as a bitch, and has saved me from scams and high pressure salesmen. Lost some friends, some of which probably weren’t friends anyway.

People know where they stand with me, if they pay any attention at all. This does not make me popular.

Had another damn dream about my father, never good.

Two lovely women from work stopped by on the way home for tea and a tour. They were carpooling, and it helped them time it to avoid some bad traffic. Gave them tomatoes. I really do work with some great folks.

Swarms of Lime and Bird scooters around town, more since the U classes started. I find them delightful. Dylan has no driving license, I have no iPhone, so I haven’t tried them yet. One day.

Thumb CMC arthritis improved, with brace and injection kicking in. Decline in effect.

Sweaters

Boredom overwhelming me. Not a bad thing, just uncomfortable. Need a book to read, haven’t got one. Keeping alcohol to a bare minimum, which is also good but uncomfortable. Weather dry, still hot but cooler overnight, also dull. Smoke thinning, too. Traffic by the U worse, more students confused,which is the annual annoyance. Hours increasing, visiting medical students, new fellows and first year anesthesia residents, same old nurses and techs, all getting right up my nose.

Found a place to get our knives sharpened, as I struggle to teach myself how to do this. Practicing on the small, cheapo, paring knives. At least the good knives are back in working order again.

There is something about the bitter end of August and the sour tang of early September. I crave sweaters.

Had another dream where I was still living with my parents, they’d crawled into my bed to sleep beside me. I called Dylan saying we needed to find a place of our own.

Woke to remember we have our own House.

But the mood lingers, as dream moods so often do.

Everything itches.

Rustle

I love the quiet of this neighborhood on Sunday. During the week all the lawn grooming equipment and construction noises take over. But on holidays and Sundays, a stillness descends. There is some traffic, but intermittent. Voices raised in argument from the street occasionally. But the breeze is audible, birds, the rustle of people.

Rearranging

We’ve been hosting movie night with friends, and it’s a bit awkward. So, we got a 5” larger tv, (because they are cheap these days) compared to the last time we bought one, which was over ten years ago. And rearranged the furniture. Realizing that we haven’t done so since we moved in. We will give it a week and see how it works, but so far it feels nice. The screen is to cut the glare on the...screen.

Most important, makes it easy to get into the bookshelves.

We have been in House longer than anywhere else we’ve lived since childhood. so, we never got around to needing to occasionally rearrange as circumstances changed, because we were in a different apartment. Five years is the previous record. So, we have to factor this in from now on. I don’t want to do the twice yearly furniture change my mother did, partly because of heat vent vs summer fans and ventilation. Still.

I’ve been getting to various organizing projects, the kitchen drawers, the bathroom closet.

Pantry is next.

Scrunch

On my feet all day, and it was a day of missteps and snags. Good people to work with, but systems snarled. We corrected everything, all turned out well, even got home before anticipated. But it took a lot of running, and other rooms had similar experiences.

Came out to the evidence of a recent rainstorm that I MISSEDAMNIT. Then found out the front rainbarrel was not full, but missed the downspout outpouring through misdirected flow. And an antnest swarmed as I jostled it. I’ll work on sorting that out before the next rain event.

Fellow nurse had a bruised and scratched cheek. I asked, “Your daughter?” Yup, three years old and not well regulated, high energy child. She saw the humor, and is doing what she can to deal with the intensity of her child.

Reminded me of the time my mother was angry with me one morning, because apparently I punched her the night before. She’d moved me up from the foot of the bed, and I clocked her. Which solved a mystery for me, because I very intentionally scrunched down at the bottom of the bed because I was cold, and that helped. In the morning, I’d be back up and the top, and cold. I had no idea how that happened until then. I was rather angry myself at that point, and glad she was hurt for this unnecessary and unhelpful ‘correction” of my sleeping position. If she’d asked me why I slept at the foot of the bed, I’d have told her. Still don’t know why it was so damn important that I sleep at the head of the bed.

I don’t honestly remember what happened after, although I’m sure I kept doing it, because I was cold and it helped. I like to think she left me there after that. I also don’t remember if I ever did tell her why I scrunched, because she was so angry with me, and expected an apology for something I didn’t intend, or remember, since I was asleep at the time. I’m sure I apologized, because I knew better than not to. Still, it rankles.

Let sleeping children lie.

Particles

Storms moving through, which keeps the smoke particles grounded. Moby dealing better than usual with the thunder, not hiding anyway. Lots of warnings and alerts, but so far it’s just been rain. Momentary hail. Disappointing to this storm enthusiast. But maybe still to come. Full rain barrels though!

No less than three people have commented, complimented me on the purple hair. I’m torn. Because I do it for myself. But I also know that it would be utterly churlish to tell them to mind their own business, when I’m out in public with bright purple hair. It rather invites looks. So, I stay polite and say, “thank you” to whomever says, “I like your hair! I like the purple!”

Still.

On the other hand, I’m sort of reaching out to people by doing the purple hair in the face of public response. Also practice in handling less than ideal interactions that I would prefer not to have.

Finished reading, If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face, Alan Alda. The power of empathy and improvisation as the tool to develop it. A clear writing style, he has quite a distinctive voice.


Off to watch the skies. Hoping for rain. As per.

Dilution

Moby being adventurous, enjoying the garden proper.



He needed a little guidance

Picked up a toolset at a yard sale, and a rather pretty broach. Early Saturday morning errands, time to spend together.

Sitting on the porch together last evening, youngish man in a black suit and white shirt, heavyset, black, over friendly approached, came right up on the porch and set down his soda, patter all the way. Very much to look like a Baptist minister.

“Where are my manners?” *

Introduced himself, asked our names. Um. No. I told him he was intruding on a private conversation. He he says, “You were just reading!”

Not the point, obviously. So I did the broken record, “You need to leave now you need to leave now...” He left ranting about a man just trying to make a living, angry and loud as he walked down the street. His cologne lingered, so we went back inside.

Scammer.

We do get them around here. The first year was the worst, I think. Had someone at the door every week pushing some church or selling some product, or just probing for a soft spot.

Cow orker who wanted a black iris got off at the same time yesterday. Showed me how to break up the bulb clumps. So I’ve been digging and spreading them out around the meadow. While at that, I also moved some of the mint to the verge. Let it take over there.


The solution to pollution is dilution. The displacement of weeds is replacement.



*My question exactly.

Outhouses

Another call off. So I’m earning my PTO. Cleaning thoroughly. New nail polish on the stove and microwave controls.

Keeping the House clean doesn’t come naturally, much as I like having clean ordered surroundings, I struggle with getting there. I clean so much at work, which is what I’m paid for, and I do it well and conscientiously. For just us? I procrastinate. When I know people are visiting, I would think it insulting for me to leave it dirty or disordered. Then, cleaning is a mitzva, the right thing, a duty, so I perform out of self respect. First time we had the party for my cow orkers, I went a bit nuts, knowing that OR people would notice what others would not. Our dear friend Dave* cleans for pleasure, and would also notice, but never comment, so I make a special effort for him, because he would get the message of honor for him. For Dylan’s mom? Less so, she’s an indifferent housekeeper, no doubt related to having five sons. This is why I like having surprise visitors, I don’t mind them seeing the mess, and I’m under no obligation to be tidy then. No disrespect conveyed. Take me as I am.

Remembering visiting an elderly relative of my father, a great aunt I think. She lived in a one room shack with bare board floors and newspapers on the walls, wood burning stove. It was cold. I wasn’t very old, and I was a bit shocked, I hope I didn’t let it show. I knew enough not to say anything. I think my father was ashamed. I never met her again that I remember.

We are none of us far from ancestors who used outhouses and lacked electricity.

The Louvre had no toilets.

*You know, Dave. His mother a hoarder, he went the other way.

Mope

Called off tomorrow, evidence of the health care crisis, rather than need for care. Infuriating, but I use the power I have.

A different purple hair dye recommended and doing its thing now. Tired of the grey, as per.

The neighborhood is noisy with construction and lawn care. Manicured lawns are so passé.

Idle, hoping for rain, moping for work.

Doubles

Double cats.

Beans sprouting.



This whole garden thing is turning out well, but also taking a lot longer, and with a lot more failure than I anticipated. Still, it’s not about permanence but process. Much greener than ever before at this time of year. Except for the verge, but I have a plan in the works for next year.

Button

Come back, human.
Give me your hand.
Let me taste it.

Evolutions: Fifteen myths that explain our world.
Oren Harman


I begin to think the current issue is a mass hysteria, a madness of crowds. The vague anxieties manifesting as misogyny, racism and hysteria. It’s happened before, but this could be a massive, world wide event, and just as weird and irrational as always. But magnified by millions, billions even.

That it has happened before, although on a smaller scale, comforts me. It’s impersonal, but not unprecedented.

And I love the idea of an octopus tasting me.

Our cats do.

Moby has become a cat of laps, and will avail himself of either of us. Eleanor considers anyone laying down as an appealing bed. To be kneaded and purred over.

I must take my worries as universal, and on the scale of eternity. It’s all impersonal. Although I begin to doubt it’s indiffferent. I think it cares, but not on a human scale, or to our personal benefit. Or maybe it is, but we can’t see it from this viewpoint.

Thinking about making a list of life hacks, but with outdated items for very modern problems. A buggy-whip for your Starbucks coffee, a shoe button hook to clean your keyboard sort of thing.

Germ

Bees on sunflowers.

Some of the beans are germinating.

Funny

Classical guitar concert was delightful. Gohar Vardanyan and her guitar. Dylan called her right hand “eerie.” He got a lot more out of it, as a guitarist. I enjoy dance and singing more, because I understand that better. I closed my eyes to imagine dancers. (He once somewhat enjoyed a concert/lecture by an expert on Indian dance that had me rapt.)

One of the songs was Allegro Humoristico. We wondered if the pun about the upper arm bone translated to Spanish. Looked it up this morning, and it seems so. El humero, humerus. Humorous, humeristico. Humor or humour, cognate of the Latin for moisture. See:humid. The humors of medical theory, humor the best medicine, not much of a shift into the mystery of what makes us laugh. And then the Latin for shoulder, taken from Greek omer, slid down to the arm (another cognate) bone. And a millenniums old pun was born. Did they also think it funny to ding your funny bone? The ulnar nerve at the distal end of the humerus? May have depended on local pronunciation.

In Pyramids, Pratchett made what he thought was a pun Americans would love. But I read the country of Hersheba as HER shu buh. And we tend to hit the R in Hersey Barrr. I never got the joke until it was explained to me.

I still can’t do links on the ipad, but look her up. She really is amazing.

I may rewrite this on Dylan’s desktop for clairity and links.

Nitrogen

We sit on the porch. The air hot and smoky, but he must be outside.

Work is slow, and I worry. While enjoying getting home to sit, water the garden, take care of little things needing doing.

We have a classical guitar concert tonight.

Have planted beans as nitrogen fixation.

Sauna

Not as hot today, cat is basking. He stayed here a while, then took to shade to cool off. Like dipping into ice water after sauna. But cats don’t do wet, as a rule. The smoke is worse this week, as California burns, as well as the western part of Utah. My own sinuses less than thrilled. The world going to hell in a handbasket, as usual. So, I watch cats and live through.

Making soup, fennel, leek, barley type. Food for the next two days at work. Fixing food a chore. When I’m hungry, not easy to make food. When I’m not hungry, hard to imagine what I might like to eat when I am hungry. Hitting the sweet spot where I’m slightly peckish, has never been easy. Food is minimally appealing if I’m not hungry. I tend to crash when I haven’t eaten. Oh, for the days when a cook would serve meals, at least if you were middle class or above. In Ancient Rome, there were all sorts of street food vendors. You’d think there would be something inbred about humans that would stimulate cooking, and there seems to be for some people. I’m just not one of them. Unless I can smell it, and it’s for me, I could care less about food. Just the look of a dish leaves me indifferent at best. Oh, I like a good meal, and eat with gusto, but only when I’m hungry, and there it is in front of me. I also tend to distrust pretty food. Seems too much handled in my mind. The more decorative, the less appealing. A mess of charred brown stuff with a sprig of delicious parsley (yes I eat the garnish) and my gut growling, I’m in.

This is not typical among those I work with.

Probably another personal weirdness.

Pearl

God only knows and there is no god.



But there are tomatoes.

Corbel

Full facade porch is so clean. Made sure to sweep, shop vac and hose it down, to keep paint dust off Moby paws. He’s not good with us wiping his paws and coat off every time he comes in. Threw away, or recycled a lot of the accumulated stuff.

The corbels, or decorative brackets, are new vocabulary, as is soffit. Never cared much about architecture, but I’m learning from McMansionhell.com All the bits have names. Like anatomy our house is front gabled with a full facade porch.

Planted beans and lentils this morning. Hope I didn’t soak them too long. Well, I did, but hoping they’ll germinate anyway.. Tiny crop rotation. I have more. Also want to root mint for the verge, let it displace the foxtail grass. Black mustard helped, but it’s a largeish area. With something, maybe earwigs, eating the hell out of it. Making compost tea is disgusting. Took a lot of effort to get the stench off me.


Very emotional this morning, without a foci. Five weeks from calling it post menopausal, which is great, but a marker in my life. I want to clean, discard.

I threw away raggedy anne years ago, held on to her too long. She sponged up the hurt, which was her job, because she could not feel pain. I felt something owing for so long. But in the end, what I owed her was letting it go. I beat up my stuffed animals and dolls to survive. They weren’t symbols of childhood joy, but of rage and abuse. I have new ones, untainted, not as emotionally charged. But present, soft. The cats are real, they feel love and kindness, and need to be cared for.

Going to make a good dinner, sleep, get this mood expunged. I will age with fucking grace, see if I don’t.

Snazzy

Hummingbird Trumpets blooming madly.



She’s feeling snazzy today.




Found a neighbor with lots of restoration and handyman experience. He did this in 3 days, scraped, primed and painted. Responded, showed up, did the job well, asked a fair price. We have a handyman!

Gable

Another slow work day. Frustrating, but so it goes. Prepping for painting the gable has begun. Serious work, a serious ladder, and Moby checking out the changes. He seems better today, seemed to see the hoses and the ladder. He even started a gentle sparring match with Eleanor. For the past year, he just walks away whenever she’s tried playing.



Dylan unwell from the antibiotics, but otherwise improving as well.

Very hot and smoky.

Frustration

A day of frustrations. Dylan went for his walk, but returned knowing he’d done too much. His face not much swollen, he’s iced well. I got called off work, but I needed to see Dr. W about my old thumb, since my last brace broke after 6 years hard work. She ordered it for me, but hand therapy was as busy as surgery was quiet. I had to leave, pick up poultry for catsoup, feed Dylan, and return. Thumb insisted.

It’s been catching this week as well as aching and twinging. Took too long, And just as the brace was being fitted, a young man beside me passed out. Which was frustrating in no small part because I saw it coming and his therapist didn’t take it seriously enough early enough. But I don’t want to interfere when I’m the patient, not the practitioner. When I saw him slump, I urged my therapist to leave me in favor of him. The brace, still malleable, felt perfect. But when she got back to me, her tech took it over. And screwed it up. So another got started, and I could tell the tech was screwing it up again. By then I was getting tired and hungry and could not find the words to describe what was wrong.

I gave up, came home, fretted over the bad geometry. Fed Dylan some just made chicken salad, since he’s not up to chewing yet, but he’s enjoying my concoctions. And remembered the kettle. Why wait? I know what I need.

Several steps later, I’ve got brace in good, effective angles. Fix it my damnself. I have a damndegree. My damnthumb. I’m bright.




If they hadn’t eventually taken the young man to the floor and gotten his head down, I was prepared to take over, but slowly, they did. Important to get head down feet up, or people can have seizures and brain damage, if left too long.

I know about young folks passing out. I know the early signs. Been there, done that, seen the concussions.

Dylan needs to recover from the abscess under his recalcitrant cap. At least he has his memory back.

The air is terrible today.

Blurry

Dylan had dental surgery today. He had oral sedation, instead of nitrous, which is seriously screwing with his memory. Not unlike a stroke patient. It was assumed I’d stay with him during the procedure, which was fine, I rubbed his feet. Probably for the best, since he would otherwise have little idea of what happened. Since it was worse than anticipated, I’d have been outside worrying about how long it was going. Done that enough times already, every surgery has been worse than expected.

They helped me get him to the car. A little hairy getting him into the house, but all is well, if a bit muzzy.

He’s dozed to The IT Crowd all afternoon. Slowly coming around. The cats nearby.


UPDATE:He’s doing much better this morning, short term memory returned. Minimal pain, done bleedin’, still on soft foods this week or more.

Pedestrians

Pedestrian

There are friends that are just binary. Meet them once, they are friends, and that’s it. Mary Anne is that for me. We’ve spent maybe 20 hours together total, over 4 times, but it’s like we’ve been friends our whole lives, and each meeting, we just pick up the conversation from the last time.

We talked and sat on the porch, while Dylan and Matt (also friends, from work, and a single class in HS)talked gear.

It’s Pioneer Day, there was a parade we ignored. And horses on sidewalks, fair enough,the horses were technically pedestrians.

Bloom

I had a flower making kit as a kid. Stems and various plastic petals that could be rearranged. I tended to go all baroque, putting all the colors on. But I also asked if there were any green flowers. Didn’t get a satisfactory answer. Some white flowers with a greenish tint was not my question.

Of course, there are all kinds of flowers, but not the kinds humans register as decorative. Flowers are for each plant’s pollinators Unless that means humans, which sometimes it does, the distinction is meaningless. There are UV flowers, flowers scented for a particular bugge, wind flowers, every variation to fill every possibility. It’s all about sex.

A red leaf lettuce bolted, and I let it be. A few times, I’ve noticed the flowers, tiny, and never open long. Finally, caught the wee blooms.



I can appreciate these flowers, knowing they are not meant for me. I’m comfortable in my irrelevance to them.



Watched Hanna Gadsby’s Nanette last night. Searing, funny, haunting, a painful, skillful performance.

Verb

Moby knows. He must know. We love him. He accepts comfort from us, when there are loud noises or he’s lost. We get him warm and safe and fed. Surely, he knows he is most loved.

Because we both believe that love is a verb, and only a verb. Love that is not felt by the recipient is not love given. Love is a shared action between beings. Love is active and kind and needs to be sure it’s working.

Love reaches out and checks and gives some more.

Love.


Not a feeling, but an action.



We make sure Moby knows where food is. We put down rugs for him to piss on, because sometimes finding the litter box is just too hard. And we set up steps so he can sit on the sideboard and get to his kettle of water, and get down without excessive distress. And we tap his dish so he can find his food. And we put his meds in the food, so he isn’t distressed by having pills shoved down his throat. And we keep Eleanor entertained when she wants to play, because it bothers him, but she needs to play, too.

Love for all in this house.

I wash the rugs. Dylan sifts the litter. We get the right food in the right cat. Because love takes effort and attention, and isn’t really work at all, when there is love. Because this is our porpoise in life.

Purpose.

Or Porpoise.

Take your pick.

Perdido

Took care of a patient one day younger than me, he has AIDS. I shook his hand and took extra care of him. I was going through nursing school as the AIDS crisis was going on, my University playing a key role in the research. As many of my fellow medical folks failed the patients in their care. Judgemental family keeping patients from partners. Our clinical instructors taught us universal precautions, but kept us up on the latest, that HIV was not passed on through casual contact.

Today, I think those horrible stories are why we have marriage equality and the LGBT civil rights we do. We looked at those in charge and said, “Nope.”

Sometimes the boil must be fulminating to be lanced. When society looks at the extrapolation and heaves a heavy “NOPE” at the injustice. Such are the forces behind revolutions. The universe changes.

We were taught that sometimes the best moment to reach a patient on a self destructive slide was when they are weeping in the ER. No guarantees, but if they will ever listen, that’s a good opportunity. I still don’t know if the young woman on her 2nd abortion in 6 months changed when I suggested that she might want to look at the choices she was making, while solidly supporting her decision to end the pregnancy.

Maybe our culture has these moments, too. When we look at where we are going, and it’s clearly the road to perdition, and we step back... and say...

Nope.



This is the 5th patient in the past month with my birthday, the second within a day of my actual birth day. I’m a little creeped out by this.

Structure

So, I picked up a Keva Structures set at an estate sale. Having way too much fun with it. This is one of the less risky stacks, but it’s pleasing. I loved blocks the best, as a kid. All I got were my brothers’ hand me downs, sparse and broken, I still loved them. Legos were too expensive. No wonder I build cairns of the stones found here.

I sort of planned these as a gift to our friends with kids. Eh. They’ll get it in the will, and can play with them here.

200 well cut planks, balanced nicely with a good texture. And a delightful sound when they fall. I’ve been pushing the balance. Experimenting.

Bee

Peeping sunflowers
hungry bee*. Spitting rain
Quiet afternoon.

I stayed in bed reading, Eleanor sitting on me, until 0730. Dylan came in, I said “I’m staying in bed all day.”

He said, “Ok. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

I laughed. Scooted Eleanor off, got up. I can’t stay in bed if I don’t have a high fever or bad migraine. I love that he was willing to indulge me.


*Apparently not a bee.

Stars

It rained a bit last evening, I got up and stood on the porch to watch. There were stars visible to the southeast, rain in the northwest. I’ve seen rain in sun many times. I don’t think I’ve ever seen stars in rain before.

I’m sure it happens as often, it must. I’ve never thought of it before.

It never rains much when it only glances past. These are not all day rains. Or all night. Welcome, though.

Muntins

We come together...and miracles.



We can’t save everyone, but we save those we can.

Migraineish season, another wobbly Monday, which ran very short. Susan needed to call people off today, offered it to me so I don’t have to have a sick day counting against. I’m fine, hesitant to venture out, disinclined to eat, still getting chores done. More painting of muntins. Toilet flapper gave up, so we got a new one of different design, got it on and working yesterday.Emptied the water salvaged from the AC, cleaned, dishes away. Dealing with elm seed bugs, not dangerous, but they get everywhere.



Other bergamot blooming. Cats in their favorite spots.

Vet came yesterday, Moby maintaining. Labs happening. Vet says he’s completely blind now, but in good body condition. Seems so thin to me. He still gets up on the sideboard to drink from the kettle spout. Still eating well, likes going outside, peeing regularly, if in random places, turds coming out. Proof of life, all that. Stretches across Dylan’s lap for hours.

Windows

I realized I could do this window without using a ladder, from the inside. Making good progress. I’ll scrape the windows once I’m done.

Side

Profile.

Damsel

Damsel fly, Western honey bee.


100F, 36 dewpoint.

Jerryrig

The ipad doesn’t work smoothly with blooger, links and photos require workarounds. That’s fine, eventually everything I do will need to change. My back and now shoulder require adaptations, fudges. The garden is a process, exercises in figuring out what will work, seeing life as it is, not as I want it to be.

Science, at heart. Only magic and religion try to make the universe conform to little human ideals. Life is wild and far too complicated for philosophy. It’s all making it up as we go along.

I sit out by the bergamot, bee balm, to watch the bees. I chose it, planted it, but then it grows and attracts bees who have their own lives and reasons.

There is no plan, it’s all exploration and wonder, misery and failure, redemption and salvage.

Found Do It For Yourself with Mary Bellows, a strange little Canadian DIY show from 1982-3, that I loved. Made Dylan watch an episode, and he could totally see my attraction. I think she is the seed of my eventual love of gardening and fixing things. She’s delightfully inept, and yet capable. I want to send her a fan letter, telling her what she meant, means, to me. The confidence to make a botch and still call it good enough.

Perfection is both impossible and undesirable.

So much fun watching bumblebees on the bee balm.

Bergamot

Got Eleanor’s claws trimmed, which was not a happy. But then she could knead on me, put her paws on my face and get a good long headrub, which is a very happy. So. happy. cat.



Bergamot going nuts.



Another panorama.


HP & I were sad yesterday, because the holiday is on Wednesday, our regular day off. But then, because there are only 4 cases today, we were both offered a call off. We said YES, then didn’t mind when two cases got shifted into our room and we went from being the first room done to being the last out. She’s so easy going anyway, a pleasure to work with.

Rosa is coming this morning to paint more. So, I’m glad to be here.

Didgeridoo

Twenty six years ago, Dylan moved in with me. We took the commuter train up to the Ogden farmer’s market to celebrate. There, because it’s easier to go an hour there than walk further through worse areas to attend the local one. Read and chatted the whole way.

At the market, a woman with a guitar doing a very good version of Riptide, dude rocking out on a didgeridoo*, lots of dogs, the aroma of bbq.

We decided it was Chekhov’s bbq, once smelled, by act III it must be eaten. And, wow. Yum. Brought some home.

We also like trains.

Dealt with the wheat harvest today, straw strewn. Not threshed exactly, but all the heads in a bucket for the next day.

Moby leaving us nearly half the couch.





*video to come