A mixed-up kind of a day

 

Sophie and Jacob
a long time ago when both were puppies

Even before daybreak, it was an odd day. I woke twice in the night to find Sophie standing by my bed. If she’d been lying down, I wouldn’t have thought much about it, but she was standing. I thought that was a bit eery, a bit worrisome. I of course was afraid of another diabetic incident, etc. When I asked if she was all right, she gave me a soulful look and came for some loving. I looked outside and sure enough, it rained, but I didn’t hear thunder. Apparently, as I learned today, I must have slept through it, because there were several reports of thunder and lightning, no none that I saw in my immediate area. Even if it wasn’t much here, Sophie would have sensed it. This morning she was back in her crate, sleeping peacefully.

My brother called early about the wheelchair. He said Cindy would come get it, and I protested she could not handle it alone. He said she’d drive the truck with a trailer and a ramp and could just drive it up the ramp—that sounded a bit like going on a roller coaster to me. Could she strap it down, I asked, and he said no, but her sister’s partner could. He’d check schedules with Ralph and get back to me. After a series of phone calls and texts—I simply don’t text well and images completely throw me—I have heard nothing more and seen nothing of either Cindy or Ralph. Christian estimates that the chair weighs between fifty and seventy-five pounds, and it will take three grown men to lift it. Guess I’ll call again in the morning. I want to get the chair out of my closet and the standing walker out of my bedroom, and more than that I want John to have them if they will help him. I once threatened to open a store for used disability devices—if John takes those two, my inventory will go down appreciably. Though someone returned the potty chair yesterday—at least it can go in the attic.

Soph was part of the mixed-up day. She had an 11:30 vet appointment, and Christian was to take her. He told me before he’d be running close on time, would be teaching a real estate class until eleven. By the time he got here at 11:20 I was in the doorway, with Soph on a leash ready to hand him. He asked me to call the vet and say he was running late.

Called the vet clinic, and they said they showed no appt. for today and our vet and his team were not in the clinic. The kind receptionist wanted to keep talking about it, but I wanted to get her off the phone so I could call Christian and tell him to come home. Now, tomorrow, I must call and ask the questions I meant to send with Christian today. Meantime, Christian was glad to come home and eat lunch, and Sophie had a nice outing in the car.

Mixed up again tonight. Jordan had told me yesterday that she had a happy hour tonight, her first event as the mother of a high school senior. Apparently an unofficial group of mothers was getting together—she expected to be a bit tearful. Christian said he’d be home, so I promised to make the German potato salad I didn’t make last night. But then just before five Jordan came out and said there was to be a dinner, with dads and boys, following the happy hour so no one would be home for supper.

I put the German potato salad off one more night and made a recipe I’d been wanting to try—scrambled eggs with pinto beans and cotija cheese.  I can tell you—don’t bother. Admittedly it called for jalapenos, which I left out, but it was kind of just there. The cotija was the best part. I filed the recipe in the wastebasket.

So it was that kind of day, when life gets in the way of what you have planned. Best to be as resilient as possible.