Life in the fast lane

 

Christian giving skinny Sophie her insulin.
She's so good about it.

Many days I go from morning to night with only Sophie for company (I’m not complaining!), but it sure was a busy place around here today. I began the day with—gulp!—an 8:00 a.m. appointment with my favorite dermatologist, a man I’ve known for more years than either of us want to count. He presented me with a choice of treatments for a small lesion on my scalp and therefore gave me another dilemma. I told him I do not need another dilemma in my life right now.

Got home just in time to meet the dog groomer who came to give Sophie a much-needed haircut. She’d had a bath at the clinic, so I didn’t realize how badly she needed the trim until I saw my new, lean dog. With her coat trimmed back partly for summer and partly to smooth out the bare patches where the vet had shaved her, she suddenly looked half the size she had. Christian has been joking that she was getting broad in the beam, but tonight she has skinny hips and hind quarters. Today she is much more interested in food, and I am almost free feeding, giving her a bit whenever she wants. She is one of the dilemmas in my life: I want to feed her enough to restore her health, but I don’t want her to get used to eating six or seven times a day. And of course, her ongoing health is another dilemma: if she has another crisis I will be forced to make some hard decisions. Meantime, we’re taking it day by day, and today was a good day.

Yesterday was not such a good day. She refused her breakfast and was clearly confused. You know how you go into the kitchen for something and then have to stop and ask yourself, “Why did I come in here?” That’s the look she had. She’d walk a few steps and then stop and stand still, looking puzzled. And she stumbled occasionally. I called the vet, who said she needed to be in the clinic. He called back in an hour or so to say her blood sugar was extraordinarily high; they were giving her IV fluids and insulin, but he was quite adamant he did want to keep her overnight. She was, he said, clearly unhappy at being there again. We brought her home mid-afternoon, and she ate her dinner. So now I’m again figuring out medication schedules and cajoling her into letting me spray the bedsore on her leg, etc. She’s worth it, and as I said, today is a good day.

Back to the rest of the day: the young man (really, he is) who owns the lawn service we use came by so we could discuss bushes that need trimming, the dying grass in the front yard (he says it doesn’t get enough sun), and the bare spaces in my native plant bed which has, miraculously, survived the winter and a plumbing crisis (piles of rock among the plants). I have cut back on plans for taking out the vines on the back fence (really old honeysuckle which is not flourishing) and replacing it. We had great dreams of crossvine, but the fence does not get enough sun.

Then the new handyman we’ve discovered (he really is handy) called and said he could come replace the flexible screen door in the cottage. By that time, I was ready for a nap, and we agreed on tomorrow morning. But we need a new screen—after Sophie got her foot caught in a hole near the bottom of the current screen, Jordan took scissors to it and cut off about four inches. As a result, I have had a convention of mayflies in the cottage—a fatal convention apparently because I find their delicate dead bodies all over. The wonderful Zenaida will also be here tomorrow to clean the cottage—another busy day. And then we are expecting company for supper. I am reminded of the May Sarton poem:

“I always forget how important the empty days are, how important it may be sometimes not to expect to produce anything, even a few lines in a journal. A day when one has not pushed oneself to the limit seems a damaged, damaging day, a sinful day. Not so! The most valuable thing one can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room.”
~ May Sarton, Journal of Solitude. Thanks to Marilea Rabasa for posting that this morning on our small writer’s group listserv.

 

 

More small excitements

Ou
r lobster lunch

My major accomplishment of the day was wrestling with a cooked lobster that Jordan brought home from the market because it was on sale. Fortunately, she had an old-fashioned nutcracker and the pick to go with it; otherwise I would never have gotten that claw meat out. I got enough for one generous lobster roll or two skimpy ones. We decided to split the one and side it with cottage cheese, a favorite of both of us. Pardon while I brag, but the salad I made out of that lobster was really good—and so simple. There’s one more lobster in the freezer, and because Jordan liked our lunch so well, I’m going to give her a lesson in extracting meat from the shell when we decided to eat that last one.

We’ve had other little excitements around here. Yesterday, it was the lawn crew that dug a trench and moved a sprinkler head. Jordan was driving herself crazy watering and worrying about the grass turning brown. To a certain extent, it just will turn brown in August, especially with the beastly hot weather we’re having (105 as I write).

The lawn crew was followed immediately by the tree crew. The wonderful pecan tree over my patio had grown out of bounds—beautiful, but it was on the neighbor’s roofs (a garage and a guest house) and on mine, plus it was over the power lines. I was most anxious to get it trimmed before Oncor comes and butchers it. Now I wonder about fending off Oncor, if and when they appear. The guy Christian hired did a good job, but oh my! The difference in the light in the cottage is amazing. At certain times of the year, the western set is going beam straight at my desk.

It tells you a lot about my days whenthe lawn crew and tree trimmers are the big excitement. Sophie thought them exciting too. She had a field day barking at all these men in the yard. Wore herself out, missed her usual morning nap, and slept all afternoon. It is so hot these days that we have abandoned the patio. I even have closed my French doors to keep the cool air in—to the dismay of my family, I usually leave them open with the a/c running. Now, Sophie cannot go in and out as she pleases.

She doesn’t understand that and around five in the afternoon barks at us as if to say, “Come on! It’s time to go outside.” We’ve had this extreme heat most of the week and expect 105 again tomorrow, a tad cooler Sunday and then cooler early in the week. It will be a relief to be back in the low- to mid-nineties.

Meantime I read on one of my listservs a note from a friend who is experiencing 107 without air conditioning in California. She had pulled the shades and shut the doors. When I read that, I vowed not to complain about Texas anymore.

A small bit of vicarious excitement: we were sitting in the cottage one evening, ignoring the TV which was on but muted. All of a sudden, Christian said, “That looks like my fraternity brother!” It was indeed his fraternity brother who is today our family physician. He was in an ad for the health network his office belongs to. We told him we were thrilled to be treated by a celebrity.

Here’s to cooler weather, better mail service, and happier days!

Cricket among the pentas

Of mowers, mosquitos, and churros

Yesterday I really needed a nap. I hadn’t slept well the night before and thought one of those deep afternoon naps would fix me up. But just as I settled my head on the pillow, I began to hear mowers and blowers and yard equipment. At first the shrub crew, who were to clean out beds, etc., worked at the patio end of the cottage. Granted the cottage is not big, so that’s not far away, but I convinced myself that I could consider their racket white noise and go to sleep. But then the equipment suddenly sounded like it was in the bedroom at the head of my bed. It wasn’t, of course—it was in the driveway right up next to the house.

But sleep I did—because I woke up from some bizarre dream to find a quiet and neatly trimmed yard. The patio was clear of leaves—a condition that would last half a day. My pecan tree, which shades the patio, is dropping leaves early and at an amazing rate this year.

When Linda from Granbury arrived for a catch-up visit—she was in New Mexico all summer—we decided to have a sip of wine on the patio. It was a lovely late afternoon. But the mosquitos drove us inside within minutes. They don’t bother me—must be too old and stringy for them—but Linda was getting bitten. And I’d just read that some extraordinary number of mosquitos in Fort Worth or Tarrant County tested positive for West Nile virus. So in we came.

We dined at Righteous Foods on Seventh. For those who don’t know, this small but classy restaurant once served upscale food based on the cuisine of the interior of Mexico. Then the owner became health conscious. The menu offers detox drinks, grain dishes, salads, and the like. I am not much on grains—Linda had risotto which had been toasted. She loved it and insisted I take a taste—just not my dish. But I can always find something I like—last night it was a smoked salmon tartlet (actually smoked salmon toast with surprise diced beets, which I happen to like a lot). For dessert we split an order of churros, maybe my new favorite food. We each ate one churro and I brought the third home for my breakfast today, but it didn’t last that long. I ate it last night.

Speaking of landscaping, I love that around Righteous Foods—lots of decorative grasses and a big bed or prickly pear cactus. I wondered if the cactus also appeared on the menu or if the restaurant purchased pads that were younger and more tender. I bet the latter.

A fun meal and a good evening. And here’s the trivia for the day: did you hear about the couple, devoted to hiking, who set off in the mountains of Colorado. He proposed, she accepted, and then they got lost.

Or there’s the runaway horse in France who galloped into a bar. Seriously.

What a start to the day.