This may take awhile!

A trip to the cell-phone store earlier this week was eventful. Our first stop resulted in Ol' Abner storming out with me explaining that he was old school management and had no appreciation for some of the new technology requirements. Hmm. Back in the car he complained that employees of his beloved corporation were now lazy and incompetent. Hmm. I was disappointed that the new version of my smartphone was not in my hand. His request to have our accounts combined in order to take advantage of his retiree discount had been met with the bad news that one of us would need to change our phone numbers. NOT going to happen...It was a stand-off or maybe a walk out after the young man told us it was beyond his capabilities. I sulked, he ranted.

The next morning he drove to another location, the one where we usually succeed after failing at the first. We are slow learners. He told me just to get the upgraded version and he was OK with paying the full price. The company had awakened to the fact that I am no longer an employee about a year ago and my discount just evaporated. We were greeted without having to sign in and wait, taken to a workstation to assess our needs. As helpful young man reviewed my plan and made a couple of suggestions, Ol' Abner commented that it was criminal that our accounts couldn't be combined without changing phone numbers. Hmmmmmmmm. Knowledgeable, truly helpful young man asked a couple more questions, looked at both plans, and offered to solve the problem. The solution involved numerous extra keystrokes on his part, but in the end Ol' Abner was further convinced of the incompetence of the staff at the previous location.

I now have the latest greatest version of my smartphone, and knowledgeable-truly-helpful young man recommended I try a new tactic to match all my devices and recover my ability to synchronize my music player with my new computer. It worked like a charm. Now Ol' Abner needs to write one of those letters for which he is known. Some blatant discrepancies in quality of service from one location to another really should be pointed out to the mother company!

Peace, Joy and Love

The house is quiet this morning. We are at daughter's house planning to meet son for a lunch halfway across the metroplex. Our children lead such busy lives and their paths usually only cross during the holiday season. Since retirement, Ol' Abner and I have done the holiday traveling. When we made the move to Dogpatch, we knew winter travel for our children would be next to impossible. We were much more mobile then any of them. We love having the flexibility to come and go as we like. Some years we have been in the Lone Star State to celebrate a bit early, then return to the mountain for Christmas Eve and the remainder of the holiday season. I wonder how future holiday seasons will evolve.

This year I feel a strange calm. No sense of frenzy usually felt during this week of the year. Could it be I have finally accepted my role as Yuletide observer in lieu of perpetrator? It's a joy to listen to the plans of grandchildren and visit while they go about their activities. After Christmas, we will travel home with son and daughter in law. They are in a new home this year and I can hardly wait to see how festive it will be there.

Peace on Earth, Good Will toward Man! That's the spirit...and maybe I'm beginning to get it.

Dam Knitters

When I was in college, many of my dorm mates were learning to play bridge. Card games have never been my forte, so I followed the path of friends learning to knit. Can't say I mastered the technique, but I did learn to knit and purl. A resurgence of interest in the process among Dogpatch residents has sparked my interest again. Returning from a spring trip to Santa Fe with my treasures purchased in a yarn shop there, I was thrilled that our local flower shop had added the fiber section. An ever growing group of women, young and old, gather for classes during day and evening sessions. Open knitting is hosted twice weekly with knitters sharing tips and showing off skills. The comradarie has become a support system in and of itself. These women share concerns and joys as the thread of friendship accompanies the twisting, slipping and turning of yarns to complete an accessory or a garment. The group has been tagged the "Dam Knitters."

Yesterday's Open House event was well attended. I can hardly wait for spring classes to begin. My resolution for the new year is to learn to make socks. That probably should have been in BOLD, ALL CAPS. Yes, I am going to learn to make socks in the coming year. There! I have committed in writing.

Slippery Slopes

Winter in Dogpatch can be treacherous and heart-warming. On really cold days the neighborhood looks devoid of human population. Let the sun show it's bright face and walkers are strolling the streets. A little moisture can create icy streets and walkways. That's enough to keep me inside. The klutz gene evolves quickly with just a bit of the slippery underfoot. Dry leaves on a path become more like roller skates when wet and cold. I dare not brag that this season hasn't YET resulted in a spill for me, it's only a matter of time. Wouldn't it be nice if a preventive vaccine could be developed to stave off accidental slippage of aging bodies. As much as I complain when expected to have an annual flu shot, a shot to keep me upright with movement would be gladly welcomed.

I do take reasonable precautions. When approaching a flight of stairs, the handrail is always used. No more do I race up or down stairs with an armload of anything. As I waited for Ol' Abner to have a diagnostic test yesterday, I strolled around the perimeter of the medical facilities. It was chilly, but luckily dry. Inside the hospital, a walkway to the adjoining medical school is accessed by several flights of stairs. On the second day of long hours in the car seat, a bit of total body movement was a necessity. Approaching the wide stairs with some measure of trepidation (all things going up must come down???), I easily walked up the stairs and emerged to traverse the skywalk. The return trip was perilous in my view. As fellow travelers just bounced down the center of the wide flight, I waited for availability of a handrail on the right side to balance my descent.

It's morning on the mountain now. Whatever the weather holds in store, I will have my outdoor time today. Baked goods abound in the neighborhood, and indulgence is a foregone conclusion.

Maybe I Should Just Pass on the Cheesecake

A few weeks ago a friend showed me an "app" on her smartphone that would track progress and map out walking paths. Looked pretty cool so I immediately downloaded it. It also allows an option to add friends to compare notes and challenge workouts. Sounded wonderful and I tried it out as soon as I was ready for a walk. Not being technologically astute, as previously lamented on these pages, the first use of the program was totally unsatisfying. About every third step a voice from my pocket would yell "auto pause", then seconds later "auto resume". After about a minute and a half of that, being a slow learner, I finally just turned it off. Returning home I looked into the settings function and discovered the ability to turn off the "auto pause" function, and happily enjoyed the use of my application on the very next walk. Not only does it map my walking path, but give data that includes distance walked, elevation changes, speed walked and OH YES, calories burned. Such a comfort to know that the 500 calorie piece of cheesecake indulgence can be offset by walking four miles uphill...well maybe NOT so comforting. Perhaps I should have only eaten half the cheesecake. Either way, a bit of personal control and accountability seems like a good thing.

I have told many of my friends about the application and several have now added it to their smart phones. As I mentioned earlier, friends can share workout information with me and I with them...I think. So far I have accepted several friends into my fitness community, but I cannot see any of their progress. I wonder if they can see mine. Often I find myself at a loss where technology is concerned. The interaction of others figuring out methods of using the technology seems to be required with most things these days. Dogpatch is sorely absent of such interest, at least among my acquaintances. Maybe I need to make another trip to the Lone Star state where I was first introduced to this new wonder, or maybe I will eventually figure it out on my own. Sometimes I'm pretty stubborn that way.

Boots for walking

Last spring during one of those necessary closet clean out moments, I donated some my boots to the Salvation Army and the rest were so well worn, they had to be donated to the land fill. As temperatures began to drop, absence of boots in the closet reached a point of urgency. I searched the internet and considered purchasing on-line. With my Daisy Mae size feet, shoes and boots should always be tried before purchase. Luckily I returned to sanity before embarking on buying, trying and reboxing for return...or adding to next years donation pile.

My taste in boots has progressed from over the calf leathers with very high heels to a more sedate simple smooth foot with sturdy low heels. No need for the tall uppers since I seldom wear skirts and certainly don't need to tuck in my pants legs. On one of Ol' Abner's recent medical visits to the city, I made a wicked little detour to my favorite shoe outlet to try on some of the footwear previously drooled over on the website. Of course I forgot to print off the coupon from the website. After traipsing around the store wearing one of my selections, I opted to purchase one pair and order a second in the other color on line with the coupon. Now the coupon has expired and the color that was in stock during my visit is back ordered in my size and color. When will I learn to buy when I know I want it? That's probably a lesson already learned...Salvation Army has a store full of proof.

Family Heirlooms

I just glanced at my friends list on Facebook and noticed the section of "family" is huge, and I don't even have all my first cousins listed there. My mother would be so proud. She took such pride in family connections...at times I cannot help but wonder about the wisdom of some of that pride. We do not choose the blood connections. I am one of 19 grandchildren on the maternal line and my mother was one of 19 grandchildren on her paternal connection. In addition I enjoy the relationship of a number of "step-cousins" as my mother's generation resulted in many blended families. I'm not sure anyone else on my friends list shows so many relatives in the "family" section. Not all with familial connection to me have been pulled into that list on my page and I wonder if most people just choose not to use that feature.

Many times I have lamented the birth of Facebook after my mother's death. Her phone bill and postage expense could have greatly been reduced. She stayed in touch with old friends from school and never allowed anyone in her family to loose touch. We lost her in 2000. She had just started using e-mail, and was most distressed if we didn't immediately reply to one of her missives. Many times I would receive a phone call asking why I had not responded to her e-mail, sent nearly an hour before. Did I mention that she hated answering machines too? An hour away from home might result in an overheard comment on my answering machine "they've got that *!*&#*! machine on again", only to see three e-mails; one of substance and two follow-ups.

She was far ahead of her time. Social networking, instant messaging and daily posts on blogger would have opened all new vistas for her...actually she expected that before the technology was even available.

When "DOGS" fly

My favorite form of exercise is a long walk through Dogpatch neighborhoods. Depending on the route I choose, a leisurely stroll on level ground or a quick trot down the hill only to huff my way back up gives the satisfaction needed for my daily mood. Often a neighbor or two will join in, but a chocolate colored labrador retriever is my intrepid companion whether Ol' Abner chooses to come along or not.

Other dogs sometimes join us on the leashes of neighbors and she delights in making friends with any four legged companions. Her friendly social nature will usually win over the trust of these critters quickly. One neighbor resides with a small dog of unknown ancestry appearing to be a mix of a dachshund and a beagle or something with a brindle coloring. She is every bit as social as Belle although she does not enjoy a leash. Gidget will come running out to meet us as we walk by. She will roll and tumble with Belle, then proceed to me to perch in begging style on her hind legs to receive a gentle scratch on the head, then off she runs to play in circles around us.

Gidget is well known around town as Ol' Taxidermist's companion. Riding shotgun in his truck, head hanging out the window as he navigated a turn into a parking lot one day, resulted in a sudden tumble out to the ground. A few months later, she suffered a bout of lyme desease. Full recovery ensued though she learned to scream shrilly if someone touches her or attempts to pick her up against her wishes. When Mountain Girl and a large very old Blue Heeler, Sam, moved in, Gidget quickly adapted and took charge of his habits. She learned to run beside the four wheeler in the woods and refuse to exit a car if the ride has not yet been to her satisfaction.

A few weeks ago, I noticed a tiny carcass of a fawn beside the road along one of our walking routes. It appeared as though the internal organs had been cleared cleanly while the legs, and head were intact and it looked almost uninjured. I commented on this phenomenon to Ol' Abner and he explained the usual process of scavenger birds. Other neighbors mentioned the tiny fawn and a few days later it had disappeared completely. Ol' Abner came in and related a tall tale to me. Neighbor Joe had been watching as vultures munched on the fawn as Gidget irritated them. He said she barked and charged them until one flew up and grabbed her with claws firmly attached to her neck and shoulders. He watched as the creature flew across the street and around a house with a clearly reluctant passenger squirming in his grasp. Horrified he continued to watch the scavengers. Minutes later the sassy little dog came trotting out of the woods to harass the birds one last time, then turn on her heels and race toward home.

We shared the tale with Ol' Taxidermist and Mountain Girl later that day and she observed that Gidget didn't appear to be injured, but hadn't seemed to be venturing out as far as usual. Ol' Abner noted that she no longer followed past the corner where the fawn had lain. I guess that dog DID fly...and no doubt she has at least nine lives.

Avoid the "Poop Vein"

I tried a new recipe yesterday. It was delicious and should have gone together quickly. Instructions called for peeled and deveined shimp. Years ago when living on the gulf coast we frequently purchased fresh shrimp and Ol' Abner (who wasn't quite so old then) was adept at peeling and deveining the critters thanks to a nifty tool he had found. I had purchased some nice looking frozen shrimp of admirable size a couple of days ago and was anxious to combine some yummy sounding flavors. Since the magazine featuring the recipe may not survive the next side table clean-off, it follows here for future reference.

Red Cumin-Lime Shrimp on Jicama Rice

12 oz fresh or frozen peeled and deveined medium to large shrimp

3 tsp olive oil

1 1/2 C chopped yellow onion

1 anaheim chile pepper, seeded and sliced

1 1/2 T chili powder

1 1/2 tsp cumin

1 C hot cooked brown rice

1 1/2 C peeled jicam cut into thin bite size strips

2 T Lime juice

2 T vegetable oil spread

1/3 C snipped fresh cilantro

Thaw shrimp if frozen and set aside.

In a large non-stick skillet heat one tsp of olive oil and swirl skillet to coat bottom lightly. Add onion and chile pepper and cook, stirring frequently til tender. Stir in shrimp, chili powder and cumin. Continue cooking (about 3 min) until shrimp are opaque.

Spoon hot rice into a serving bowl and stir in jicama. Cover and let stand until serving time.

Remove skillet from heat, stir in remaining 2 tsp olive oil, the lime juice and vegetable oil spread. Sprinkle with 1/4 tsp salt. Cover and let stand 5 min to allow flavors to absorb and vegetable oil spread to melt.

To serve, stir cilantro into rice mixture and pour shrimp mixture over rice.

We found this meal delightful since we have a love of flavors from south of the border, especially those healthy dishes featuring seafood. Probably could be 20 min from start to table IF I had not spent 30 minutes peeling and deveining shrimp...not a pleasant chore if you haven't tried it. Oh yes, that tool that he claims makes removal of the "poop vein" so very easy...does NOT.

Huff, Puff, and down we go

It's been a rough couple of months for Ol' Abner. When his surgically improved toes healed, he felt ready to push his feet into walking shoes and enjoy a stroll around the neighborhood. Brown dog was incredibly happy to adopt this old habit quickly. I walked with him and was surprised as he trudged up the slight incline leaving our house slowly. He could barely talk and was gasping for breath. We concluded that he was really out of shape from recent inactivity. A few days and we thought he would be fit and able to regain his past level of walking.

After a few days with no improvement, I urged him to call his local primary care provider. After a few more days of delay, he finally gave up and called. When he explained his problem by telephone, the instruction was to proceed to the emergency room. Feeling as though that was an overreaction he continued trying to push through the huffing and puffing. After his follow up with the podiatrist, I urged him to go ahead and have this problem evaluated. It wasn't getting better and I hoped it might be something easily remedied.

Emergency rooms are seldom pleasant places to spend the afternoon. We felt a little silly as we shared the waiting area with a man denied entrance to an airplane with his red swollen leg, an elderly couple accompanied by a loud daughter thinking she should take charge of the system, and a young man seeking pain medication for his swollen gums. The triage nurse called us in for evaluation and one glance at the intake sheet caused her to immediately call for a technician to come from the inner-sanctum of the treatment area. A snippy young man sitting at a previously empty desk chastised me for not stopping there as we arrived. Ol' Abner's complaint was supposed to be treated as a life threatening emergency. I didn't bother to explain that he had been missing at the time and we had proceeded to the "check in" cubicle. Abner was escorted back and I was instructed to return to the waiting area to enjoy the stares of those knowing their arrival had preceded ours. Meanwhile snippy young man sat at his desk showing the apps on his smart phone to a security policeman as my husband's escort came to the door and said something to him, then pointed to me. Snippy young man nodded and continued his conversation. Another twenty minutes passed and a nurse came through the sliding door and called my name. Snippy barely glanced up as I entered the portal beside him. The nurse thought I had left since the technician had come out earlier to have Snippy young man to send me back to join Ol' Abner.

Ol' Abner was perched on a cot with oxygen on his face, a blood pressure cuff on his arm, leads on his chest, and a pulse oximeter on his finger. The physician had advised him that his EKG looked good, his blood work raised no concern and we awaited the chest Xray. The contraptions attached to his person had indicated that he was not absorbing enough oxygen, thus the oxygen flowing up his nose. We had been there about two hours by this time, and Ol' Abner was lamenting that it would be very late when we arrived home, a rather prophetic observation.

His exit from the emergency room followed a path to an inpatient room for observation and further testing. The chest xray had shown fluid in his lungs and the doctor calmly suggested that he remain for a day or two flush the fluids, determine the cause and plot a course of treatment. He was there for four nights and on the fifth day he was released by a reluctant physician when he promised to return for additional outpatient tests.

Our home in Dogpatch is a little over a three hour drive down the mountain and over a couple of rivers and around another mountain or two from the city. Following his admission to the hospital I drove home over the winding roads frequently shared by deer in the dark of night.

Brother had come by to feed the dog and allow her a minute of outside time, but she was a bit confused when I arrived alone. I packed some clothes and the next morning delivered the pup to her favorite canine bed and breakfast before repeating the previous morning's journey down the mountain.

Congestive heart failure was the final diagnosis. Additional tests indicated that he needs oxygen when exerting himself. A therapist came to the house last week and brought small tanks of the stuff and tubing to attach it from a backpack he can carry as he walks. Today he walked with his pack of oxygen and the dog is happy again.

Winding Down...or maybe it's just the "wind-up"

It's a busy weekend on the mountain.  Sandwiched between the Labor Day holiday and the weekend of the citywide yard sale,  several activities will keep Dogpatch residents on the move...or at least these residents.  The cool days signaling Autumn are delightful.  Last night a visit from his grandchildren gave Digger Dude, aka Ol' Excavator a good excuse to cook for a crowd.  He tried his luck at "Italian Beef", and the verdict from all his guests was Successful Acquittal of his mission.  It was yummy and it's always fun to sit around at the end of the day and predict the outcome of planned weekend events. 

In just a few minutes, Ol' Abner and I will head for the state park to check out the Hillbilly Chili Cook-Off.  It's an annual event that includes tasting multiple chili concoctions and a vote for the favorite.  Local vendors set of booths with free junk and places to gather for a conflab, and charitable organizations promote their causes and sell wares.  Later tonight, one of our favorite local bands will be playing at the square around the county courthouse.  It's just been too hot most of the summer for the Saturday night concerts, but tonight may just be perfect weather for a little outdoor entertainment.
 
Tomorrow we will go up the mountain for a cookout at the home of some part time "dogpatchers".  Several acquaintances and some really good friends will attend and the food will no doubt be great.  Ol' Abner says it will be next week sometime before he's ready to pull out his fishin' pole again.
 

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A Thread of Interest

My restlessness has morphed into the need to learn something new. I still have the unfulfilled need to travel, but it's been stretched to include an urge to learn. As the new school year begins for the younger generation and those who teach them, I wonder if I should consider returning to school. Maybe even an on-line class or two would feed my empty mind. Last week I returned to the local knitting group. I still haven't mastered the reading of a knitting pattern, but some progress can be flaunted. Making an oven mitt with a lot of coaching, followed by completion of a second all on my own, may not seem a huge accomplishment. Still I take pride in a tiny lesson learned. So many things to learn...so little time. I mustn't waste it! Perhaps I'll do some research on cars. Ol' Abner seems to think it's time to replace mine.

Rainy Days and Rainy Nights

Rains have cooled the mountains finally after a couple of weeks of 100+ temperatures. I hesitate to complain as I have listened to my friends in drought stricken Texas lament the heat and dryness over the spring and summer. The only time I enjoy a rain event is during a good night's sleep, but I've found myself praying for the rain to come to Texas this year. Cooler days have made outdoor time in Dogpatch more tolerable, but the humidity leaves the body soaked with sweat after a few minutes outside. The dog doesn't seem to mind and delights in our longer morning walks, although I can't say the same for the grazing deer. As we stroll down the street and she strains at the leash in an effort to greet the fellow four-leggers, they scatter in panic from their breakfast. I guess they spent the rainy night sleeping too.

Oh the Places We'll Go! NOT

This summer I seem to be suffering from a bit of unrest. We started the season by cancelling a trip so I could have a minor surgery, thinking the journey would only be postponed a few weeks. That destination hasn't yet been reached. Meanwhile unplanned travel has been necessary and I'm grateful that time and means allow for the trips. Still, I yearn for a chance to visit some of the places on my list.

I want to some day take the train across Canada during the summer and enjoy the views from the high windows of the passenger cars. A night at the Chateau Lake Louise would be a must on the journey. We enjoyed a delightful lunch there several years ago, and I knew I wanted to spend a little more time in the beautiful hotel on the turquoise lake. Ol' Abner listens to me sigh as we have seen the cost of the rail ride quadruple in price since my first suggestion that we plan for this vacation, but it isn't high on his wish list. Hmmm

A night or two in the Peabody Hotel in Memphis would be an easy weekend or mid-week outing for us. I want to go when it isn't so miserably hot in the river city so we can stroll down Beale Street and listen to the musicians. With a niece and nephew living there, we would have knowledgeable tour guides to steer us into the little places of local flavor. We did the tour of Graceland and loved seeing all the Elvis memorabilia many years ago, but I'm ready now for a bit of historic Memphis sans Elvis.

A few days in Nashville, Mobile, Savannah, or Fredericksburg might be a salve for my wanderlust. Ol' Abner says we live in the vacation destination for many people and doesn't feel the urgency to see the places I want to go. I keep dropping hints and sometimes make the overt request to his distracted ears, so far it's just not happening. Maybe I'll just plan a trip to London!

Driven

Mountain folk are a unique kind of driver. That old song I heard as a child, "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain" comes to mind. As we round a mountain only to suddenly find ourselves behind a slow moving car or worse, a loaded log truck, I just cannot help but yearn for the long straight four lane highways in the plains. In the Ozarks, people take driving an automobile to a whole new art form. Creeping down a mountain riding the brake, then suddenly accelerating on the way up the hill where a passing lane is provided. Some are even courteous enough to move over to the "slower traffic" lane as they generate a burst of speed thought impossible from the look of the vehicle. Others will follow one of the slow moving cars to the beginning of the passing lane, then move to the fast lane only to drive just beside the poky one until seconds before the extra lane must merge back in. A speed of 55 mph is the normal limit on most state highways around Dogpatch. Local residents see no reason why one should indulge in pushing that limit. Cruising around the mountain at roughly 40 mph seems perfectly adequate for most. Sometimes a turn is preceded by a signal as the car is beginning it's turn, hand signals are alive and well around these mountains, but for most a turn just gradually happens. After all, everyone knows he's always lived down this road. I still haven't seen those six white horses though.

Flowers, Feeders and Varmits

Busy summer days can be satisfying. Geraniums are blooming profusely thanks to weekly fertilizer, daily watering and "deer stopper" sprayed around the perimeter. The purple salvia is attracting hummingbirds and the marigolds are prolifically insulting the deer. Flower season didn't begin well. Preparation of a flower bed for daffodils that bloomed while we were away was successful but disappointing as we returned to waning blooms bending over in the wind and rain. The orange day lilies that bloom just beside the steps down from the kitchen were devoured by the deer (and I don't mean dear ones!) who usually just nip off a bud here and there. This year, they ate them down to the ground. Some of them must have developed a taste for the "not deer friendly" plants.

A bird feeder just outside the front window attracted a proliferation of birds from tiny finches, tufted titmouse, cardinals, and small to large woodpeckers. At least until the squirrels discovered it. Ol' Abner made several passes daily to shoo them off until the arrival of his new air-rifle. Now he sneaks around the corner and drops them like rocks with one shot. He's still quite a marksman. Unfortunately they all scatter quickly when one is shot, but they must run into the woods without warning others of the danger. Another group shows up to indulge in the bounty within hours and the panic begins again. Downside of the project is the disappearance of most of the birds. I guess they've decided to move to feeders without so many hazards.

Sweet Summer

Loving the lazy summer days, and today was an especially good one. Ol' Abner has diabetes and it's been a struggle controlling his blood sugar and dealing with the side effects of the high side. Today he visited his medical practitioner for lab results and was pleasantly apprised of the success of insulin usage. We left the office feeling a sense of relief that the frightening trend has finally been slowed or maybe even reversed.

This evening we joined friends along with some of their visiting family for dinner to celebrate a birthday. The company was pleasant and we ended the visit at their home with a dessert of birthday cake. Ol' Abner indulged in a very small piece and noted a slightly elevated blood sugar level when he tested on our return home. He didn't seem to be feeling the awful effects usually resulting from ingestion of sugar. We know he cannot enjoy large quantities of his favorite sweets, but an occasional small serving probably will not cause serious repercussions.

An appointment was scheduled with a local podiatrist today to deal with his chronic ingrown toenails. High blood sugar previously precluded this intervention and he has suffered all summer with constant foot pain. Our hope is to resolve the toenail issue so he can enjoy his walks with the dog and wear his boots for a motorcycle ride.

Ah yes, summer is getting better all the time

Talk

Dogpatch has been a little crowded this weekend. Those relying on only a cell phone for communication have been tested. Several hundred young active wake boarders and their friends have descended on our lake for Bro-Stock Championship Competition. We have avoided the lake since I much prefer a gentler ride than can be enjoyed with all the speed boats and the wake boards in tow whipping up the wake. Weather was perfect for the spectacle. Little wind and lots of sun assured the best view for those watching the competition or those watching the crowd. Pretty much every visitor came equipped with a cell phone and constant texting or talking capability. At our Saturday morning breakfast (which used three times the normal allotted time), Sis in law was completely flustered by her inability to reach the dog groomer where the four legged kid had been deposited for a fresh new look. I seldom worry about such things as functional cell phone. Mine is used more for games and those can usually wait. We have a land line and if you know the number or can access information, we can always be reached. Maybe that's why we live in Dogpatch....we like things just a little old fashioned.

Nosey

It would seem I am fully recovered from my surgical episode. Two visits last week for a light to shine where previously it would not, resulted in a declaration of success from my nose specialist. It is such a joy to be able to sleep through the night without awaking to blow my nose. For a couple of weeks I was sure that ability would bring satisfaction. Now I know! Just being able to take a breath without thinking about it and never thinking about needing to blow my nose is optimal. Life is good.

Blow

About fifteen years ago a blow to the nose began a process that I hope will end soon. Damage was evident at the time in the black eye I sported for several days. When that wound healed, it was all over...or so I thought. A few months later, I suffered a sinus infection followed by another the same year. Previously my bouts with sinusitis triggered by allergies were alternate year events. I had laughingly referred to them as West Texas-itis when we lived along the Texas coast. Laryngitis, sniffles, headaches and sometimes a round of green discharge from the nose. The greeness generally prompted a visit to the doc for a round of antibiotics. No big deal every two or three years. The last four or five years I've been hosting a nasal circus. Ring one is constant drainage, usually green. Ring two brings laryngitis and often the ensuing sore throat. In ring three the allergic flare ups that lead to migraine like headaches. The movement from one ring to another reached its crescendo last month and I finally succumbed to the recommendation that I have a specialist review my nasal passages.

Surgical intervention was a forgone conclusion...and I dreaded it mightily. Oh yes, I can remember the black eyes and miserable strings hanging out of other noses and had no disire to partake of the experience. My doctor assured me that new technology made it a little easier on the patient (oh wait..that's me!), but my thoughts prior to the surgery were seriously bleak. I hoped that I might just not awake if the misery lived up to my imagination.

It's been six days since the infamous surgical event and I still live and breathe in Dogpatch. Ol' Abner has cooked all the meals and waited on me as though I am an invalid. Amazing, the things one cannot do without bending over. Removal of the packing two days after was not nearly as traumatic as I predicted. In fact, it was over just as I worked up a big hunk of dread. It was out and the doctor was calmly holding my wrist to check my pulse. Saline solution sprays into the nasal cavities several times daily keep me breathing easily and I have really had very little pain. One more trip to the surgeon's office is scheduled for removal of the splints still holding my newly straightened nose intact. Maybe I'll be released after that. I won't really feel over this til I can blow my nose.

Things we do in Cars

The older we become, the more we appreciate the joys we took for granted in our youth. Cruising the streets in cars filled with 23 cent gasoline and pulling into a drive-in restaurant for soft drinks and fries. We spent many hours just occupying the space and visiting with friends indulging in the same summer pastime. It occurred to me just yesterday, that the owners of Stanley's Drive In might have preferred to have a customer willing to buy more profitable foods and leave when the meal had been consumed. We usually spent at least an hour sipping and nibbling after spending less than a dollar. I don't think we tipped the car hops either. Oh yes Stanley's Drive In was the place to learn the latest in relationships, activities, upcoming events and newest drama. Some even stole the salt shakers. I can remember going into a friend's bedroom and seeing a collection of a dozen or more of the little cheap shakers brought out on the tray with fries. She was not a bit chagrined by my horror, in fact, she couldn't understand why I hadn't entered the race to collect more than anyone else. It wasn't long after that Stanley's stopped automatically including the shakers on the trays. Today salt comes in tiny little paper packets and no one notices if you take them with you.

All these little snippets of memories sneaked into my consciousness yesterday as Ol' Abner and I walked around a car show featuring restored and updated cars from years past. He found a 59 Chevy in the same color he once drove proudly. His first car was a '55 Chevy and he saw several of the same body style but not the same paint scheme. He remembers the cars themselves. I didn't know him then...but I remember many fun times in cars like those.

Blooms

Things that bloom always make me smile. This week I've been reviving my front porch with fresh plants, some returned from indoor wintering and others new to the mix. The scent of growing geraniums always gives me a happy clean feeling. I love the tall spiky salvia, and better still, the deer do NOT! Marigolds have to be dotted in several of my pots because deer find them particularly abhorrent, and I do like their perky gold and orange blossoms. I've added a couple of hanging baskets near the porch containing coleus interspersed with a number of dusty miller sprouts...since deer aren't fond of the grey green fronds.

All this attention to the front porch gives me a glorious excuse to avoid the weeding of the daffodil bed and deciding what to do about redecorating the treehouse. Last year simple ferns graced my favorite outdoor sitting area, but I'm thinking a bit of color may be in the mix this season. Maybe a few coleus can be added. Nothing with too much maintenance will be tolerated. Guess I better avoid things that need to be deadheaded. Maybe a tall palm for the corner...hmmm, gonna have to worry this one a bit. Meanwhile Ol' Abner brings my wheelbarrow of dirt to the front and returns it to the back when I've used what I need. He doesn't get the same thrill with blooms that I enjoy, but he indulgently backs up my efforts.

Around the Mountain and Through the Woods

A couple of days ago I attended a morning gathering of women with a friend. I knew no one else when we arrived yet welcoming smiles accompanied warm introductions. Driving through the woods to our destination revealed a couple of houses along the road. A dozen or so women were in attendance, all from the surrounding woods. The beauty of this area lies in it's seeming isolation in a populated area. Most of the inhabitants delight in the ability to live where no neighbors are evident, yet are comforted by the spirit of community among neighbors. Conversation was lively as the ladies updated one another and moved from topic to topic smoothly with no one at a loss for words. Even though Mountain Girl had brought me along uninvited, I never felt like an interloper. Is this sense of commonality the result of shared love of these mountains or is it from the attainment of retirement age? Each of us mentioned a love of some kind of craft, joy of reading, and delight in this beautiful place where we live. While I may not cross paths with these women again, it seems kindred spirits abound in these hills.

Rising Water

Our lake is within a foot of it's all time highest level. The spring rains have filled the creeks, flowed into the river and made the lake full. Our lake is the last of the chain of lakes on the beautiful White River and thus the final barrier to downstream flooding in Arkansas. The lake level has been just at the edge of the flood gates for the last week and power generation gates are running in an effort to release some of the pressure from tributaries flowing into the lake and create much needed renewable energy. Reading and hearing about the flood ravaged lowlands makes me glad we are above the wetness here on the mountain. On the other hand, returning from the drought stricken Texas hill country, I couldn't help but wish this water could be redirected that way. The excess forty or fifty feet of water in our pond would spread quite well along the Lake Travis waterfront and no one would complain at all. I really do understand that seldom are all things kept equal, and it isn't my role in life to determine where rainwater should fall. That still doesn't keep me from offering a prayer to my maker to send a bit of this water to my beloved Texas.

Never say "NOT"

Today I have my annual preventive care exam. My doctor insists I schedule the usual battery of tests followed by poking and prodding, weighing and measuring to determine that I am indeed still alive and well. As I complain about this intrusive process, a bit of gratitude is always present that good health has been mine to enjoy throughout my long life.

At the same time, a bit of ironic frustration rears it's ugly head. My own words have again, cursed me. When I called to schedule the appointment, the staffer asked what my appointment purpose might be. My response "there's not a thing in the world wrong with me", as I complained that my doc just thinks I should visit once a year whether I need it or not.

Later that day and each day hence, a crushing sinus headache has plaqued me at some time in the afternoon. The headaches have been migraine-like in intensity. Some days my left eye reddens and swells from the pain. Nothing I try seems to prevent the onset, and no amount of denial keeps me going. My only relief seems to come with come with sleep after heavy medication, cold packs, and nasal rinses. Technically, I am NOT ill, just uncomfortable...no, miserable for two or three hours each day.

My dilemma? Since this is a preventive care apppointment, paid at 100% by my insurance, do I ask that my doctor search for the cause at this visit or endure the elusive search for the usual suspected causes of degeneration and schedule an appointment tomorrow to diagnose and treat my sinusitis or cause thereof? Maybe I'll just leave that to the doc, after all it's his paycheck we're providing here.

Leggy

I spent most of yesterday cleaning out my closet. Such a shame to have more clothes than I can possibly wear in the course of a year, yet somehow the one pair of well fitting slacks, capris, jeans, still seems elusive. Such is the curse of living in a six foot tall body with 36" inseam. Tall sizes have always been ill-fitting on my frame. Either the crotch hangs to my knees or the waistband pulls up to support my bra. With the crotch at the knee, the hem graces my ankles nicely. Pull the waistband up so the hips fit properly and the pants become more like capris, not pleasant in cold weather. Worse yet, slacks shrugged up into the upper regions eventually slide back down to allow the saggy baggage that flatters no one.

Long legs have always been a feature I consider an asset. So why do I complain? Usually I don't. I just keep searching for the perfect pants, thus, a closet full of ill-fitting leg coverings. The local charity thrift shop gladly accepted my rejects from yesterday. I will suppress the urge to continue my quest, summer's coming and shorts are much more forgiving in length.

Home Again...wet again

Driving the final leg of the trip home from the Lone Star State was a bit soggy. A deluge of water beginning just a few miles from the Arkansas border ushered us out of drought parched Texas and into the drenched over-watered river basins. From the rapid flowing Arkansas River, top of the banks Little Red River, fast running Buffalo and all the creeks so full of themselves, I couldn't help but wish we could spread some of this moisture westward a bit to Texas.

It was a bit nervewracking driving in pounding rain where visibility often extended only a few feet in front of the hood...further exacerbated by gray and tan cars with no lights. If you have driven in pouring rain you realize that despite the fact that you can see in the daylight, other cars are visible only by their lights. Pulling a trailer added to my discomfort and Ol' Abner was exhausted and nursing a painful leg injury as he crawled into the back seat to sleep. I was a bit tense throughout the ordeal. Anyone who knows me is aware that rain never makes me happy. I welcome a rainy day with about as much enthusiasm as a trip to the dentist for a root canal. Give me sunshine or just let me sleep.

Home was a welcome sight despite the pouring rain. We just parked and came inside without unloading. By that time my sinus congestion was most painful and Ol' Abner's foot was still throbbing. Even though it was early afternoon, we drove the other car to pick up the four-legged family member and just cocooned the rest of the day. The sunshine of the following morning gave us the energy to venture out to notice that the rain guage had filled and overflowed, the trees had stopped moulting, added leaves to the branches and our privacy was again reinforced on the mountain.

Ol' Abner and I usually travel to the Lone Star State this time of year. Two very important birthdays easily justify the ride, but bonuses include wildflower viewing and a fun weekend down on the Llano River. The latter two were sadly disappointing this year. Drought conditions have made the bluebonnets sparse and a bit anemic, the crawfish was over salted and brisket was rubbery at the big cookout. We didn't get to camp in our usual spot, so everything was just a little out of sync!

Son and Daughter in law have their house on the market. Their house was beautifully decorated in a style that boasted of both personalities in a most unique way. To stage for the sale, the entire house was repainted in soft neutral shades and the "hot rod room/office" became just an office...tasteful, but with little personality. The kitchen cabinets no longer display the vines and lovely heirloom pieces passed down from generations before. The table leaves have been removed to make the dining area more spacious. The back deck is the only place that remains as it was...tranquil and inviting in the morning breeze.

The four legged kids clearly had to make a statement this morning. D-in-law awoke with two shoes shredded beside her bed. Unfortunately they were the right foot side of two pairs of flip-flops. She sadly lamented that she has two shoes now missing their "sole mates", someone suggested that they were just recycling in honor of "Earth Day". I guess we will watch the yard for signs of the recycled remains.

Seasons

I was just about to say this is my favorite time of the year in Dogpatch when I remembered saying the same thing last Autumn. That exact thought crossed my mind one morning when I was awakened by the stillness of new fallen snow, but mid summer on the lake is absolute joy.

Spring brings with it the thrill of budding flowers and fledgling birds attempting to fly from the nest. Dogwoods dot the hillside like soft lacy scarves draped throughout dormant trees. Daffodils planted in late autumn emerge from frozen soil as little green shoots only to erupt in yellow and white blooms while there is still a chill in the air. The Redbud trees crinkly spears of pink and magenta contrast with the clear blue skies to which they seem to point. Buds are showing on the deciduous trees and the forsythia is blooming yellow or red as it gradually adds leaves to replace the blooms. Birds are strangely absent from the feeder. A wealth of food is now available in the area near their nests. Eagles have hatched their young and we watch anxiously as the fledglings prepare for flying lessons.

In a couple of months summer will blaze in and days on the lake will bring welcome breezes only when the boat is moving. The remnants of all the oak tree droppings that color everything a mustard color in late spring will be cleaned from porches and cars. Ah yes, the infamous "tree poop" arrives on the winds of late April. That's when the honeymoon of spring ends and we gratefully welcome summer. Honeysuckle blooms perfume the air and hummingbirds flit around visiting anything with a blossom. Nothing beats the thrill of fireworks on July 4th, or the preceding barbecue. Ripe juicy watermelon and mountain grown blueberries make the mouth water in anticipation. The mountains are decked out in all shades of green and the roadsides are dotted with wildflowers. Fireflies sparkle in fields and hollows at night while mosquitos are blessedly absent here.

Changing colors of leaves announce the end of summer as we complain about the oppressive heat. Oh yes, by autumn, the glorious blaze has lost it's sheen and we hope for the cooler days and even anxiously await the first freeze, signaling the end of the growing season (ticks and chiggers, that is). Driving through these mountains in late October is spectacular. The journey during these balmy days is like candy for the eyes. The gold, orange, red, and yellow shades are vibrant in midday light and soften to frame magnificent sunsets over the lake. Young fawns born in late spring are losing their spots and their parents are beginning to exhibit grey winter coats as they feed incessantly. Watching the leaves dropping and floating on the soft breeze relaxes one's spirit. We could just enjoy these mild days forever.

Sometimes winter sneaks in with gradual drops in the temperature and other years it arrives as a sudden winter storm the day after a crisp sunny afternoon. It matters not the version of winter's appearance, it just feels so good to know the leaves have probably covered the yard, the driveway, and filled the gutters for the last time for the year. The end of autumn heralds the last of the leaves to be raked and burned. Snowfall on these mountains provides a tasteful display in black and white and shades of grey. The spot of red that is a male cardinal accents this soft background in a most pleasing way. We have a much better view of the lake when the leaves are gone, and my back porch is about as close to the water as I want when the winter chill hits. A warm fire and soup cooking in the kitchen are indulgences of the cold days when leaving the house is not a requirement. Holiday music and celebrations of Christmas just make the icicles seem to fit.

After a few months of freezing temperatures, it feels so very good to throw open all the doors and windows to air out the staleness of a closed house. Firing up the treehouse grill and putting away the soup pot signals that warmer weather is coming. For now, this IS my favorite time of the year!

I never did figure out how to attach the photo discussed to the previous post, but as you can see it's here now. If you look closely to the right of the baby eagle's head, you will see a bit of white just above the edge of the nest. Ah yes, it is confirmation of my belief that all creatures thrive with two parents. Perched proudly above the nest, one eagle is on guard while the other safely sits on the remaining eggs incubating.

The Eagles have Landed

Last spring a ride down by the river resulted in an exciting find for me. We spotted an eagle nest with a pair raising their young. Unfortunately, my favorite camera only zoomed to 3X, so the photos I took were sadly deficient. I vowed then, to have a camera capable of capturing a better view before they returned...and I knew they would. Eagles mate for life and usually use the same nest, just adding to it for each season. New camera in hand, I have visited the incubating pair as often as good etiquette will allow. The nest sitting began in February, and last week I noticed one little head looking out at the world. An adult eagle was perched proudly on a limb just above the nest. I snapped a few photos and watched their movements for a bit. Returning home, the photos were viewed on a larger screen, cropped, then posted on a social network. One friend sent me a link to a live feed of an eagle pair nesting. Photos of newly hatched eaglets, Mama Eagle turning her eggs then carefully feeding the new baby were fascinating. Guess I'm not the only one who loves to watch the eagles. As I looked more carefully at my uploaded photo, I noticed not only the baby's head, but the white topped head of an adult just behind him. The proud eagle watching must have been the papa eagle. I had feared for the future of the probable two additional eggs in the nest. A "clutch" usually will be three eggs incubated together. What I did learn from the live feed, is the laying sequence of the trio may be over three to five days. Now I'm excited again. May be more babies coming! Now if I can just figure out how to add that photo to this post. The issues bemoaned in yesterday's post are further complicated. When I finished writing and tried to publish, nothing happened. The preview was visible, but publish just ignored me. I uploaded the latest version of Internet Explorer and have had fits with everything I try to do on my laptop. This morning I am on the office computer, where I was able to publish yesterday's blog post. The photo is on the old dinasaur computer in the basement. Perhaps I am making this more complicated than it really ought to be!

Just a little baffled

I love skimming through blogger to see what others are posting. Sometimes it's rather depressing to see all the beautiful photos, artwork and graphics, many even set to music. I can manage to save, post and edit. Some days, even that seems complicated. My purpose in starting this blog was primarily as a public diary relating the often mundane happenings in our little town on the mountain. Even though I love to take and display photos, uploading them to my blog is ever frustrating. Remembering this blog's original purpose should be sufficient...but wouldn't it have been much more interesting to see the bulldozer discussed in a long ago blog on the ledge covered in water, or some of the views I so proudly tout at the side of the post? I may have to do some research or maybe even take a class. Is there a blogging class offered at the college nearby? Where does one go to learn such things that everyone else seems to just know?

How can one know when beginning to interact with a new friend whether the relationship will stand the test of time? Friends met in elementary school still keep in touch while best friends from high school cannot be located, or once found, briefly meet and disappear again. Sometimes the connection is instant and thoughts seem to merge and erupt from our mouths simultaniously. One friend from college has filtered in and out of my life never being far from my thoughts. Our lives have strangely paralled and when we talk, the years between seem to melt away or merge. Living on the same dormitory floor in college, we met our freshman year. Many of my "closest" friends from that era have only spurred mild interest as our lives have progressed to full adulthood. Gail has always lifted my spirits with a phone call no matter which of us intiated the conversation. During our mutual exile to the south, we often would spend an hour or more in phone conversation. In those days, the phone bill reflected a substantial charge for such indulgence. Still the cost was much less than the hour and a half to drive the distance for face time. When she moved with her family back to our hometown, we briefly lost touch. Our moves happened through the years and our children grew to adolescence. She contacted Ol' Abner's employer in an effort to find us without success. On a whim, I picked up a phone book from our old town and found her listed. I called and left a message on the answering machine for her as well as another mutual friend. The result was an hour long phone call with both of them via Gail's mobile phone (yes, we still called them "mobile phones" then). Again we continued to keep in touch intermittently by telephone. Our children were growing up and we were attempting to wind down careers. At some point, Ol' Abner was helping plan a company function with the manager in the old hometown. Customers and family were being invited to the event at the amphitheatre in the canyon. I went along with Ol' Abner and just before the production began, in came the guests scheduled to occupy the two seats next to us. Such a thrill to see my dear friend! As we chattered, a lady behind us grumped that it was so rude to talk as the show began. Oh yes, it had been fourteen years since our last visit and already we were in trouble. It was at that meeting that an epiphany occurred. Gail must stretch to reach a height of 4'11" and I stand at a full six feet. Standing in the patio at intermission, I looked down and thought " I didn't remember that she was so short" just as she commented that she didn't remember that I was so tall. It was twenty years into our friendship, and our thoughts still erupted in sync.

Westward Ho

It was time to take Pappy home to his little lake in West Texas. Sometimes we just drive him home and other times we continue on with a short visit after he is comfortably deposited in his own space. I have suffered from a hankerin' to visit Santa Fe for several years and finally stomped my foot and demanded that Ol' Abner come along with me. It took him several weeks to warm to the idea...until I was able to find a favorite outlaw there. A former family member, removed by divorce but kept close in our hearts, turned up with a website when searching on a social network. I promptly fired off an e-mail hoping to hear back from her before we left home. It was less than a day until her reply appeared.

Some connections never end and my Mammy loved this one. The outlaw, formerly cuz-in-law, brought such joy to my mother during her time in our family. When the divorce was final, our attachment didn't end. Over ten years have passed since she accompanied us to the "Little Cabrito" canyon in New Mexico to scatter my mother's ashes. We corresponded by e-mail a time or two afterward and I lost track when a Christmas card I sent was returned and we moved, acquiring a new e-mail address.

Her reply to my missive included an invitation to not only see them while we were in Santa Fe but to stay at their home. We accepted and arrived to open arms that immediately were familiar. So many changes in the last ten years had little impact on the connection to this vibrant exciting woman. Now we are the grandmothers and our children live in many different cities. Our husbands have all gray hairs on their heads. We choose to mask our gray a bit. A late night visit after the fellows adjourned to their beds, brought laughter and a tear or two. She lost her mother just months ago and the knowledge that my mother was available to welcome her into heaven gave great comfort. Her father suffers from Alzheimers and she was saddened to hear that Pappy is no longer mentally sharp. The more things change...the more they stay the same. That tune floats in my mind with a certain satisfaction that things that matter really never change.

On our way to Santa Fe, we hopscotched up North a bit to have a meal with my sis and her husband, on to spend a night and visit with an uncle and aunt. The following morning we continued on to stop for a call on another uncle and aunt before following the highway south into Santa Fe. As we traveled home, a stop in the city where I grew up, allowed us to spend a night with good friends since college days. I think I'll write about that tomorrow. Right now I just want to indulge in the delightful memories of our time in Santa Fe and thoughts of my mother. Amazing...gone from home over a week and not one night in a hotel, my mother would be proud!

Marking the Years

We're planning a celebration this weekend in Dogpatch. My Pappy will begin his 91st year tomorrow and Ol' Abner will celebrate his 66th birthday on Saturday. At 91, gifts are more of a headache than a joy for Pappy...unless he can eat it or drink it. I will bake him a german chocolate cake and probably buy him a bottle of his favorite whisky. On Saturday, we will have an early afternoon dinner complete will all of his choice foods and Ol' Abner's favorites. Brother and Sis In Law will be here, and a couple of good friends will join us for the indulgence. Pappy's health is very good considering his years. Balance is not good, but he refuses to use a cane. He says he learned to fall when he was young and a cane would just get in his way. A stumble results in a tucking of his arms, hunching his shoulders and just rolling into a ball. So far, nothing has broken except a pair of glasses several years ago. This year's celebration will be rather low key compared to the last one when the multitudes came to honor Pappy's 90th and Ol' Abner's day was barely marked. Ninety will trump sixty-five every time.

Pappy laments that his years are going by way too fast now. We've noticed that his collection of stories has become limited to only a few. He is very proud of his age and reminds us that no one thought he would ever make it to 21 years of age, let along 91 and giggles when he tells us. The implication is that he participated in many daredevil escapades, but somehow those tales have never been told. He says memory loss is not really so bad. We may travel the same roads daily, but it's brand new territory with each passing for him. We may be bored by the same old faces, but he meets new friends every day. I read somewhere that a happy outlook can extend one's life, and Pappy is a testiment to that theory.