Mother's Day

 Happy Mother's Day, all!

As with most holidays since the son moved out, this one started mid-afternoon.  Son is a night owl.  DIL is an early bird, but her grandma gets the early part of her day today... her mom and I will get the time of day when my son is also "alive".

The plan was to meet at a stationery shop in a nearby small town, then repair across the street to the Glacial Till Cider / Winery place.  I've never been to either, but they are favorites with DIL's family.

We got there, only to discover that the stationery shop was locked up, although the sign on the door showed its hours as open for another hour and a half!

Threw in the towel and crossed the road to the Glacial Till, where we 1) stood in line (Mother's Day and wine, anyone?), 2) son found us a table despite this, 3) ordered various treats, 4) noshed, and 5) conversed a lot.  The kids gave the two mothers their individual gifts.

Donna got an invite to a pottery class with her daughter.

I was gifted with a punch pass for kayak rentals.

We both got collections of prints of the wedding photos (some of which you've already seen).  It was a very pleasant and relaxing event, made us forget there'd ever been a pandemic, if you know what I mean.  Just felt normal!

Safely home again now.  

Life is good.  Spark on!

The Bride picked this photo as a favorite

 

The bride posted some of her favorite photos from the wedding, and this was one that "pricked up my ears" because the wind pricked up Carl's.  You can see his collar holding the rings, and his humans look amazingly happy.  The longer it's been since that wedding (three weeks already!) the less that wind chill impacts the memories.  If Carl's ears had been cropped like his mama dog's, he would look very Doberman in this photo!  You can see what the ears might have done.

Friday was Carl's day to have the stitches removed.  He looks very happy in most recently shared video.

My son and I still share the same relationship we have his whole life.  I asked if he would be OK being executor and Health care power of attorney for me.  His response was essentially "OK. But put it all in writing, and be specific.  I don't trust myself to make the right decisions for you under duress."  When I assured him it was all in black and white and specific, he closed out with, "Now just don't ever need it, and don't ever die, and we'll be fine."

I assured him that I can't die for a while.  I have to at the very least outlive my cats, since his wife is allergic to them!  Having a purpose such as taking care of animals I think does keep us taking better care of ourselves.  

Friday's moment of personal pride:  overcoming my reluctance to pick up the phone and make appointments.  I made two; one to get my blood work checked again, next month, the other to have the brick mason look at the facing on my house and see if it's something that his firm can handle (and of course what it will set me back if I hire them).

Saturday morning two things happened.  The brick mason came and looked over the potential work which is mostly on the West side of my house.  He examined, explained the damage, what he would plan to do to correct it, and estimated about how much it would cost.  Since he and his crew did such a fine job on the neighbor's house last year, I'm not even going to call anyone else.  I booked him for mid- to late-June to come out, try to match mortar and brick colors, and replace the two brick columns that hold my landing lights, as well as grinding out and refilling, replacing a few bricks, fixing cracks, etc.  I feel like one of those brick columns has been lifted from my shoulders as I for sure could not do this work myself!

The arch above the front porch, for example.  Skilled labor and forms required.

Pillar has come away from the skirt wall.  The brick mason says he'd simply remove and replace the two pillars at its corners.

The other pillar isn't quite as far separated, but probably replacing the pillar is the best solution for the long term.

The arches around the garage doors also need some work, which may or may not require replacing the bricks.

The second event was as the brick mason was getting ready to leave:  a coyote came trotting into the neighborhood, bold as can be!  I wasn't quick enough with the camera, so no photos.  He trotted through the front yards across the street, then ducked behind the houses, causing the fenced dog across the street to go nuts with his barking.  The coyote then darted into the park behind those houses.

I went to check on the cats.  Rubia was inside, but The Prisoner was out.  Prisoner stayed away until about 2 p.m.  Considering he hides from Carl whenever Carl comes to visit, and stays out for days and nights at a time, I trust that he's bright enough to climb a tree to keep away from the coyote.  However, I feel better when they are both inside for the night!

Life is good.  Keep on Sparkin'!

Indulging exhaustion

 

Sleep, wonderful sleep!  I've been indulging in "catching up" on the sleep I missed last week and the adrenaline I expended in dealing with Carl and his doggy-injuries.

It's been a week on Monday afternoon since Carl went home.  I have heard from the young couple that their vet has him scheduled to get the stitches out on Friday the 12th of May.  They figured out a better cone attachment method, looping the collar through the loops on the cone.  Makes it harder to take the cone off and on, but also stabilizes it, and he can sniff the ground better, so Carl is living his life.  He should be done with the meds by now.

The cats have resumed their normal control of the household.  

It is the year when we get new physical license plates for the cars at renewal.  You know they decide on how long to keep the plates?  Is it based on how long it takes to memorize the alphanumeric soup of the plate number?  Once you've finally memorized your plate number, they issue you a new one to learn all over again?

I was pleased with myself that on Sunday afternoon, I took out the Phillips head screwdriver and put the new plates on.

I had skipped going to the grocery store Sunday morning or afternoon, and only found out Monday morning that there was a bomb scare at my regular store on Sunday!  Turned out to be a hoax, you know the kind.  Anonymous call, cause a stir, but nothing found.

On Monday, I started on my "financial planner homework" and discovered a wealth of things I am going to have to make decisions over.  

The simplest should be the standard "Last Will and Testament".  Who should be the executor?  Do I really want to put that burden on him/her?  What about a backup if that person is unable or unwilling?  Is the default of a person's "share" going to their children even appropriate?  So I suspended it for a while, to contemplate and maybe ask a few questions of the people impacted.

I decided I'd had enough of my hair blowing about and getting in my eyes, and got it cut on Monday.  

Then I got groceries before coming home.  

Correction from prior blog:  I noticed on the news coverage that my impression of 8 pounds for the crown's weight was a bit "over".  They are reporting (CBS, which is reputable) that it's more like 5 pounds.  Either way, wearing a 5 pound weight on your head and having a 70 year old neck holding it up?  A feat of strength!

Tuesday morning it was back to the trainer.  Life goes on.

And life is good.  Spark on!

Cultural Heritage - my own

As I have many times since such things were available, I am up in the dark of the morning today, to immerse myself in my own cultural heritage.  My DNA matches more than half British, Scottish and Welsh (74%).  The church in which I grew up featured the King James version of the Bible, so the language of Shakespeare came naturally when I got to the level of school where that was studied.

When I was a newlywed in 1981, my husband and I got up at 4 a.m. to watch live coverage of the wedding of Charles and Diana.  I have since that time arisen early to listen on public broadcasting to the Queen address her people around the globe at Christmas, or during the pandemic.  I got up to view live coverage of more weddings as the generations of Windsors grew up and took spouses.  Funerals, too:  Diana, tragically out of life's natural order.  Phillip, Prince consort, after long years of service to his Queen.  Most recently that of Queen Elizabeth II, herself.

This morning, it is the coronation of Charles III.  I was an infant when his mother was crowned, and that was long before the instant communications were available.  So much ritual and symbolism and history.  Nobody does this sort of thing like the Brits... the ceremonial processions, timed to the minute, the blend of modern technology with ancient tradition.  

Back in Nebraska, Rubia joined me in watching the service.  "A cat may look at a king."

The Golden State Coach, with newly crowned king and queen ready to depart the Abbey.   

During the service, I was silently praying for this man, Charles, with that 8 pound crown on his head.  He's older than I am by a couple or three years, and I could think of all the ways things might go wrong if it were me trying to pull this off.  With a trip, or a body part buckling (knees, anybody) as all the wardrobe changes and up and down motions in the ceremony unfolded, the whole ceremony might be ruined!  Walking down that loooong aisle carrying orb and scepter?  Well done, Your Majesty!  

The touching moment of the Prince of Wales swearing fealty, the curtseys and bows... boy the aristocracy knows how that's done, and some of those not in the aristocracy, too.  Like I said, immersed in my own cultural heritage.  Not that anybody else's is less than, but when you grow up in a culture, it feels like home.

For my Canadian friends... representation in the procession.  The TV commentator said these horses the RCMP are riding were gifted (over time) to the Royal Family, and the corps was called upon to ride them today.

I have switched from the "no commentary" stream to let the media folks talk as the parade has concluded and we're waiting for the balcony visit.

Life is good.  Yawn.  I might take a nap today.

Spark on!

Normal, whatever that is.

Right before I took this photo, The Prisoner was in a crouch, nose pointed straight at the robin in the video!  It was such a cute set-up, but of course by the time I got the phone aimed, he ruined the shot by looking at me.

This morning I ordered groceries online, to be picked up this evening after the regular Wednesday "sister walk".

Carl is safely home with his mommy and daddy.  His stitches are due to come out a week from Friday, per his mommy.

The birds who live at his house are back home from the other grandparents, too.  Birds would not do well at my house, but Carl's other grandparents are truly bird people, and they take as much good care of those cockatiels as I do of Carl.  We all pitch in, as that's what family does.

The furniture covers have now been de-Carl-haired, and cat de-haired, too.  I started sweeping the tile floors.  Haven't got to the vacuum for the carpets just yet, but that's another part of the post-Carl cleanup.  He may be a short-haired breed, but those short hairs shed!

I have noted local people posting photos of their lilacs in bloom, so I know that my specific allergies will be in high form, so I'm on my meds the past couple of days.  

Life goes on, and life is good!  Spark on!

Revenge of the felines

Did I mention that Rubia practically goes feral when Carl visits?  Well, she decided to come back inside and take over her proper place in the house after he left.  But she has retained some of her feral habits.

Example:  I received my box of biocoffee in the mail yesterday.  As I was opening it this morning, Rubia wanted to "play" with the box, and was in the way (as she often is).  I went to pick her up and move her, and she bit me!

May we say "Really?  Did you have to be that cliché, Rubia?  Biting the hand that feeds you?

Anyway, I tossed her outside (she was not happy) and then washed and bandaged the hand.

I don't think she's sorry.  She was begging to come back in shortly after, and is back to her normal inside nuisance behavior, "helping" with everything.

Following my first workout back at the gym, and a soothing shower, I took a nice nap, before relaxing into a house full of purring kitties.  Who'd have thought two cats could take up a whole house?  But they do.

Carl, meanwhile, is soaking up the attention back at son & DIL's house.  Lacey is off work for a few more days, unpacking, doing laundry, and seeing that the invalid canine eats his meds.  She's using the peanut butter treat method, which was what I was going to try if I ran out of turkey!

I washed the bedding and the cat throws, and called it a day.  Tomorrow will be soon enough to tackle the furniture throws and the rest of the laundry.

Life returns to "normal", whatever that is...

but it is good.  Spark on!

Whew! Carl is back with his parents!

Over the years, I have come to know that I'm a bit of an anxious person.  Weather wimp is just the beginning.  Social anxiety, i.e. second guessing everything I've ever said to anybody, worrying about how it might have affected them... you bet!

Now apply that to the current situation, where your son's beloved canine has been injured on your watch.  Never mind that you weren't doing anything wrong... you didn't have the dog wrapped up in bubble wrap and protected from potential harm... you think:  I shouldn't have taken him to that particular dog park, I should have been more alert, etc.  Then it comes to caring for the wound, deciding when and with what information to notify the kids on their honeymoon...

Thankfully, I'm a believer in getting professional help.  I'm thankful for excellent veterinarians in town.  

So, to continue the tales of Carl and his stay with Grandma...

Sunday, I insisted he stay in the cone.  He learned to get around the house (even around corners) with the cone on.  But he still tried to scratch, even through the cone.  Mid-afternoon, another stitch popped, and blood spurted on the inside of the cone.  I had already called the Veterinary ER and asked about stitches popping, describing the medication protocol he was on.  She seemed unconcerned, as long as the meds were being taken as directed.  But she also said if I was concerned, just bring him in, you don't need an appointment.  

Over we headed. Carl was a very good boy.  We had to sit in the waiting room at the ER vet for about an hour.  He did not bark or growl at the other dogs there, or even at a sedated cat that was discharged during that time.  Since the ER Vet is about the only game in town on a Sunday, they are always busy.  When it was finally our turn, the vet looked him over, and declared that it looked about what she would expect at this point in the healing.  They could keep him, clean him up, or I could take him home, keep medicating, washcloth if he would let me, etc.  She reassured me that I was doing all the right things, best I could.

With renewed confidence, I got Carl to allow the washcloth to wipe off any blood that escaped. The regular vet had indicated that there could still be some discharge or blood on the exterior, but the drainage was set to go internally, into his mouth where he would swallow.  Gross, huh?

Sunday night Carl came up to bed, getting himself all the way upstairs, cone and all.  I coaxed him even to jump up on the big bed, and he slept well overnight, cone and all.  

Something I learned from all this... dogs really need their sense of smell up close to determine a spot that's "safe" to pee or poop.  Carl "held it" all the way from Friday evening until Monday morning.  Well, the pee only from Saturday morning to Monday morning, but still, that's an incredible hold.  I suspected it might help if I took the cone off to take him out in the yard. I got a good long pee, and a nice sized poop from him at that point!  With the cone back on, he did not go again during any of our trips outdoors.

The kids left Colorado this morning, reached their house around 3, unloaded the truck, and came over for the canine hand-off.  They were packed up and gone by 4, at which point I told the cats that the dog was gone.  I brought their dishes inside.  The Prisoner followed, soon after.  Just call it the rotating pet center!

I was left with wonderful thank you gifts, including my Kryptonite in dark chocolate form.  Also some organic coffee and a new mug from Mesa Verde.

These are like Milky Way Midnight (dark chocolate with caramel) but with sea salt sprinkled atop the dark chocolate, and mega-high quality!

Whew!  I loved having Carl, but I'm ready for a break.  Tomorrow it's back to the gym and the trainer!

Life is good.  Spark on!