Sophie. who fiercely protects me
from yard guys and other threats.
Who knows what lies out there in the big, bad world?
A couple of magazines are languishing on my desk—the new Bon Appetit and a copy of Garden and Gun that a friend recycled through me. This morning early, I thought I’d leaf through them today. But it was not to be. The day got away from me, and it began when I was brushing my teeth—sometimes the world doesn’t even give you enough time for that first cup of tea.
couldn’t figure out why Sophie was so frantic, so when I finished with my
teeth, I opened the door for her to go out and went into the kitchen to raise
the shade. To my surprise, the driveway gate and the inside gate were both open.
I yelled for her to come get a treat, but no response. Then the foreman of the
yard crew came sauntering down the drive—he’s saved me and/or Sophie more than
once—most of the yard guys are afraid of her, but he is not. He know she’s all
bite and soft as a kitten inside. I
asked if she was in the yard, he nodded yes, and calmly closed the gate. He and
a co-worker were planting gorgeous full mums where the pentas were—I only hope they
last a while. After he closed the gate I looked out, and Soph was wandering
around calmly as if the two men were her new best friends. The whole scene was
repeated in the afternoon when the crew that trims bushes came—fortunately, in her
old age, Soph is much more compliant. She came when called.
up to brighten my day was Jordan who was livid because the tree guy had ground
the stump of our much-missed big elm, bagged the pieces, and left them on the
curb. I called the city and was told they would have to be removed from the
bags and neatly stacked by the curb. The tree company said they would charge an
extra $85 to do that. Meantime, the city favored us with several violation notices,
but since they did not come with fines I was not overly concerned. After she
got over her anger, Jordan stacked the wood. We’re still not sure what to do
with it, but my theory is some passersby make take it for firewood.
I was dealing unsuccessfully with CVS over a prescription mess. I spent over
half an hour on the phone and never got anyone in the pharmacy to answer, had
no way to call the store manager. So I decided to call corporate headquarters
and complain about that particular store (Jacob ws appalled that I would do
this). By gosh, I got the same recorded voice, giving me the same information
about covid vaccines and delays and stuff I didn’t need and playing the same
shrill, loud music in my ears. My wait time would be fifteen minutes. Tonight,
I told Jordan to please bottle all that anger at the tree company and take it
up to CVS. Still haven’t solved that problem.
favorite-ever plumber called to say he was on his way. Hooray, my kitchen sink
nozzle is fixed. I no longer have to go through the awkward business of rinsing
dishes while holding the nozzle down in the sink, and I can wash my hair without
spraying the entire kitchen. Hallelujah!
spite of all this, I managed to write a guest blog about Irene in Danger, post
my weekly “Where is your bookmark” query to the works-in-progress group I
belong to, draft my monthly column for Lone Star Literary Life, and cook a
dinner that took more time than usual. Turkey meatloaves with a mushroom sauce.
The sauce was delicious, but I have not yet had the kind of success I want with
ground turkey or chicken—the texture of the finished product is too hard.
difference in my busy day today was that I got to do it all at home, much of it
in my pajamas. Of course, by the time I cooked supper, I had put on leggings
and a clean T-shirt, which now has spots of Worcestershire on it. So now I give
myself permission to spend the rest of the evening with a comic-mystery that
will make me laugh out loud.