A clean sweep

 

My favorite Christmas elf

Nothing like starting out Christmas week all clean and sparkly. We had a cleaning trifecta today—the house and the cottage got a thorough cleaning, Sophie and one of the Cavaliers got baths, and the yard guys cleaned up the leaves. I noticed last week not many leaves had fallen, although the oak trees still had lots of brown leaves on their branches. Then this weekend, all of a sudden, they came swirling down in a torrent. So it was good to get them all blown away (yes, they do bag them and don’t just blow them into the street) and to have the lawn mowed so that some leaves turned into mulch. Tomorrow is supposed to be the nicest day all week, and we will have neighbors for happy hour around the fire pit.

We haven’t had our houses cleaned regularly since pandemic started, in spite of our absolute love for Zenaida Martinez who cleans them. At first during that strict lockdown we were afraid; then Jacob was at home weekdays doing virtual school—hard for Zenaida to clean around him. And she didn’t often have Saturdays free. But today, Jacob had no school, and she was free by late morning, so we juggled and adjusted. Since Jordan keeps me in strict isolation, I can no longer work at my desk while Zenaida cleans, though we both used to much enjoy the visit. Now I am exiled to the house, where I finally wailed, “I want to go home,” echoing Sophie’s perpetual wish to go home. She is always excited to get in the main house but then pretty soon she gets antsy, and if Jordan asks, “Do you want to go home?” she bolts to the back door.

I do my best to keep the cottage clean, but it had been a long time between deep cleanings this time, and it really needed Zenaida’s fine touch. When she was through, we passed like ships in the night, with masked wishes for happy holidays, and I opened my door to a cottage that smelled wonderful, so fresh and clean. The shower, which had temporarily served as a greenhouse, was once again sparkling white; I had fresh linen on my bed, and all the furniture glowed with new polish. Sophie, who adores Zenaida, had been out here while she cleaned and seemed to take pride in showing off our clean quarters.

Sophie’s bath was the final part of our cleanup. We have recently switched to a new grooming service, and none of us can say enough good bout Aussie Westoplex Mobile Groomers. They do an outstanding job. Soph didn’t get a haircut this time, but she came back smelling sweet and her coat all fluffy and soft, her nails trimmed, etc. The groomer, whom I’ve not met and don’t know her name, also bathed June Bug, for whom bathing is a traumatic experience, and managed to tease all the mats out of Cricket’s ears.

Sophie patiently waiting her turn

Sophie was third in line for her turn with the groomer, and Jordan took her in the house a bit early. She seemed to know what was going on and sat patiently staring at the front door, waiting for her turn. Bathing may be traumatic to some dogs, but Soph apparently loves it.

Somehow it seems a good omen to me to start the holiday week so cleaned up, as though we’re all ready and waiting for the arrival of Baby Jesus. May your holidays be merry and bright--and clean! 

Busy Day at the Cottage

I suspect some people think I lead the life of leisure here in the cottage. Work a little in the morning, maybe go out to lunch, nap in the afternoon, maybe go out to dinner. Today was a day to put such notions to rest.

The day began with the dog groomer, who arrived about 8:30. Because I can hardly get Sophie to the groomers and her thick coat, plus her impatient disposition, prevent me from doing a good job with that hybrid and thick fur, I use a service called Pet Staff—it used to be Whisker Washers, and I like that name a lot better. Sophie is so excited to jump into that little trailer, doesn’t mind the bath, the grooming, any of it, and loves the attention.

While she was in the trailer, workmen from the gas company wandered into the back yard and looked astonished when I asked if they would work there today. They’ve wandered in, looked the situation over, and left so many times I never know. Today, they were working. Two men spent long hours digging in the area Jordan had carefully mulched. When Sophie came back, I had to keep her inside, though she occasionally barked her displeasure at their presence.

In the afternoon, I looked out and they had a huge pile of dirt on the patio. I asked if they planned to leave it, and they said yes. Communication here is always a little difficult. I don’t know if they are reticent or don’t have much English. I explained that wouldn’t work, with three dogs, one of them sparkingly clean. I wasn’t sure the message got across, but when they left, the pile of dirt was gone, and the area where they’d dug at the corner of the cottage was neatly patched over. They worked quietly, except when I napped at which point they activated some machine that had a distractingly regular thump.

Meantime today was the day our neighbor, aged ten, was going to do a dry run to see if he could wheel their mower around the block from their house directly behind us to mow the back yard which will probably take ten minutes. With the groomer in the driveway and the men working, I didn’t think it was a good day for a trial. Sam will come tomorrow, but I fear the men will still be here. Yes, Jacob could mow, but we don’t own a mower, and Sam’s family does.

Meantime I was not idle. I was merging corrections from the editor and two readers into one, I hope, coherent manuscript. Today it mostly involved deleting and replacing punctuation, which is tedious at best. I spent roughly six hours at it, did twelve chapters, and told Betty tonight that I knew now how she feels when she’s practiced for hours. She’s a professional organist and plays for weddings these days, so she too puts in long tedious hours. I am almost done with the manuscript, after which I will have to read the whole thing again to see if it holds together. And then maybe read it again.

Oh my, such a day

At this time of year when we’re counseled to seek the calm and quiet of Christ’s arrival on earth, my day was anything but calm and quiet. It started badly and went downhill. I got up early to be ready for a 9:00 pre-op appointment. My computer wouldn’t do anything. Finally, I unhooked it and left it to collect itself.

The pre-op evaluation was okay until the EKG. The tech left to get the results checked before unhooking me and came back with a wild-eyed, frantic look.

“Have you ever had a heart attack? Any kind of cardiac problem?” I said no, but gradually I remembered an episode where the doctor could barely tell extreme anxiety from a bad EKG and decided there was a hole between the chambers of my heart—a pinprick that I may have had all my life. They have since decided not because after two years nobody could ever find it again. This reassured the tech and PA that they would have to rush me to cardio. On the other hand, they were left with a “wheelchair” EKG which was not satisfactory and may have to be redone.

Bright news was that the pressure sore on my backside looks great—no open skin, no infection, etc. Greatly cheered (well, sort of) I left the office only about an hour and a half later than I hoped. The dog groomer was at the house…and had pulled her big old grooming truck into my 1920s driveway, where it appeared stuck between a tree root and the electronic gate—neither of which we wanted damaged. Brittainy, today’s caregiver, told her I wanted her to move and she replied “45 minutes.” We sat in the driveway over an hour, both of us going downhill in disposition.

When the groomer finally started back down the driveway, it was clear she didn’t know how to manage her vehicle. Brittainy finally climbed out to go direct traffic; my friend Melinda was in the truck with me chanting “Don’t hit my car. Please don’t hit my car,” alternated with “This is unbelievable.” We finally got back in the house about 12:30.

Meliinda and I had a good Christmas visit, but after she left my computer still wouldn’t do anything. It had progressed a bit and offered me an out, which I took. Knock on wood but it seems to be working fine. I played catch-up all afternoon and finally got a late nap. Ate dinner about seven-thirty and am ready to go to bed. Too  much to do.

Please, Lord. Deliver me to the peace and quiet of the season. Teach me to draw deep breaths in the face of women who can’t drive and computers that won’t work and false-alarm medical reports. Bring me instead to a true appreciation of the peace that passes all understanding, of the gift of God’s love.

A tiring good day

Guess what, folks? Unboxing and sorting books is tiring. And that’s what I did all morning. A used book dealer is coming Friday morning, and the librarian/archivist friend who arranged this warned me to take out ahead of time the books I want to keep. We don’t want her to choose one only to have me say, “Oh, no. I want to keep that one.” So I did the long bookcase in my office this morning. I was amazed at how dusty the books were and how dirty I felt when I got through. Don’t know how thorough I was but I am getting ruthless. Some of my books are, I’m quite sure, collectors’ items for people who research the history of the American West, which I probably will never do again. But there are a couple, like Foster-Harris’ The Look of the Old West, that I can’t bear to part with.

Jordan also got two boxes from the dwindling stack of cartons for me to sort—they were supposedly saved, but some are well beyond recovery. I did those, so tonight she got two more boxes down. That and my lawyer’s bookcase are on the list for tomorrow.

Today, the groomer also came for Sophie. I love it—they pull up in front in a pickup with a trailer that has everything: water connections, heat and a/c, electricity. Sophie gets so excited when she sees that truck. And tonight she looks so pretty. And the restoration company sent two men to spot clean the places I’d found on the couch. So it was busy around here—probably just what this anxious soul needed.

Tonight my Canadian daughter (her real mom lives so far away, we’ve adopted each other on a make-do basis) and her partner came for happy hour. Lovely evening on the patio, and we had a good happy visit, laughing a lot. Jordan spent the afternoon at another mom’s house working on the kids’ group science project. She has threatened Jacob with death and destruction if he ever signs up for another group project. But they’re done! She came in and poured herself a most generous glass of wine.

And suddenly, I’d lost my starch. Was so tired I didn’t even want to think about supper. I had knocked a hard-boiled egg out of the fridge and cracked it, so decided I should eat it for supper. Too lazy to even devil it—just cut it in half and put salt on it. With cherry tomatoes and a big slice of heavily buttered Parmesan toast—and a bit of dark chocolate. Got my starch sort of back this evening (maybe I was just hungry) and did some good guest work.

If you read my newsletter or follow me on Facebook, you already know it’s party time Friday night at the Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, to celebrate The Gilded Cage. Nope, you don’t have to buy a book—just tell me you’re happy for me. You’re on your own for wine, but I’ll provide snacks. Hope to see you there.