Ducking

Inspirational song: Disco Duck (Rick Dees & His Cast of Idiots)

Ain't no one who loves rubber duckies like a preschooler. I don't know the science of it, but man, do little kids dig duckies. I find them all over my house, whether the toddler has a bath here or not on any given visit. One of her earliest words (other than that masterpiece "bumblebee") was duck. Thus, when I received a batch of pictures from this morning's trip to a bouncy gym, I was completely unsurprised to see a vending machine entirely full of duckies. These people know their demographic. I could just imagine Val's delight when she wandered up to the motherlode of duckies. I forgot to ask how many/which kinds she ended up getting, but surely her mommy got her one.

We non-mountain folk are on our own for a couple days while the mountain man does some serious work on his cabin. He bought a fancy new electric chainsaw that he has been dreaming of about as long as the cabin build has been underway. He has been bragging about how long the batteries last, and how much progress he is making on a log cabin-style shed for his water tank. 

While he is gone, I poured my energy (such as it is) into sorting and emptying the craft room. I dug through some boxes that had sat in the middle of the floor in there for what must have been a couple of years. I'm ashamed to say they were there so long I stopped noticing them. I tossed out a few things into the trash (more than a few), filled the donation bucket (now am only a few days behind on the one item per day goal), and reorganized some important spaces, like the closet shelf. I still have more craft supplies than I could possibly use in a lifetime, but I will have other people who can have free rein in there to create just about anything their little brains can think of. Just about everything will be fair game. 

Also, here is the current progress of the Bubblegum supertunias. The nemesia I put in the center to fill it out when it was young has been swallowed up by the petunias.

All Clear

Inspirational song: Hold Your Head Up (Argent)

Too bad all medical appointments don't go as well as the one I had today. This one was just cheerful and positive the whole way through. It was my periodic skin check, which is necessary after having had a basal cell carcinoma on my face several years back. I was inspected from scalp to soles, and the dermatologist was happy with everything she looked at. I had two spots of concern going in. One she reassured me was not ever going to be more than it is (a rough patch of skin that feels like a mole but isn't), and the other was indeed a tiny cyst like I thought. I assumed it could only be cut out, but she said we can try to dry it up first with Retin A, and only if that fails, go back to the surgeon who removed the little carcinoma from my nose. 

I've finally started finding the threads to pull to make my guest room usable, now that I'm going to need it a lot. In fact, I might be double-booked later in the summer, so the more space I can make, the better. I can see where some things need to go, and where some things can get combined and compressed. Still working on what I can get rid of completely. It's awful wanting to make space in a craft room, but not being emotionally able to throw out craft supplies, because I now have grandchildren. I mean, it's all I can do to not run out and get a whole bunch of construction paper, macaroni, and glitter glue to add to the chaos. The children will need to create! I just have to figure out where to store the supplies until they are old enough to get into them.

I'd like help cleaning out the debris from that space, but I have to share my handyman with his mountain over the next few days. I suppose the best way to look at it is I won't have anyone to talk me out of tossing stuff that is broken that we will never fix. If I could just get half of that stuff out of here, I'd gain a shipping container's worth of free space. Okay, maybe not that much, but it will feel like it, and that's half the battle in clutter-clearing.

 

Out In It

Inspirational song: Black Hole Sun (Soundgarden)

Today ended up being a whole lot, for a chick who is used to quiet, sedate days. I did a lot of running around, in a figurative and literal sense. Okay, I didn't run run, but I walked fast over a greater distance than I usually travel, along the path down by the shallow recreation ponds at the river, trying to meet up with the kids. There was much less shade than I prefer, so I was already pretty heated by the time I found them. Hanging out and talking for a few minutes, when the thin veil of clouds got even thinner, I freaked out and started pointing at the sun, stuttering about how that bright thing was trying to kill me. I had to dash back to my car (lots farther away than was comfortable to "dash"), and wait for them to catch up to me. I was there to take the toddler back to my house for a nap, while they went to their weekly checkup of baby number two. After being in the sun, I thought I might join her for that nap. I didn't, but I should have.

I had my busy day at Rotary, right before I went to pick up Val. As soon as I got her here, I turned on the recording of today's rather stunning hearing, and started cleaning house. She fell asleep to the boring grownup TV show, and I kept working. So many things are happening this summer, and I'm out of time to drag my feet getting my space ready. 

I know I said just yesterday that we are choosing to post fewer photos, but I did get permission to take a couple down by the river today, and I can share one here. I haven't even studied them yet to see which one is best. I can say when you see it, don't stress (as I did at first). That section of recreational pond is slow moving water, barely knee-high on children.

Just a Monday

Inspirational song: Life During Wartime (Talking Heads)

Whenever one of the cats gets really spun up, running around like a little maniac, jumping at imaginary foes, we ask out loud, "who plugged the cat up with a bunch of quarters?" We sometimes accompany this accusation with hand gestures of spinning a crank and turning it loose to cause havoc everywhere. In that vein, I have reason to ask, who loaded up my neighborhood with quarters? This is a Monday. A random Monday, not even a holiday quite yet. Every doofus with a big, loud vehicle has gone roaring past my house in the last 24 hours. People are being loud and active in a way that is weird and remarkable, but thankfully not menacing. And of course, all the fireworks. It's only going to get louder from here. Yay. Saoirse can handle it, other than needing to bark the front windows out, but poor Murray doesn't like the booms.

I just don't get that level of activity. Not on a day like this. I "graduated" from physical therapy, for the lymphoedema in my arm. It seems to be settled down enough that I don't need frequent monitoring anymore. I will always have to pay attention if it gets puffy or hard, but I'm clear to live normally with it. I followed up that with a short nap and then a massage. I mean, really, I am the complete opposite of spun up. I feel fantastic. 

In the middle of the day, Papa took the toddler to the park, so her mommy could get housework done without having to chase her all over the place. He sent back some videos and absolutely gorgeous photos. I have to be honest, I think they are too good to borrow and post here. We are trying to be conscious about how much we put her image out there, until she's old enough to control her own social media. Today's picture playing in a rain puddle is Madison Avenue marketing level, and I don't dare let the internet get its grubby hands on this one. Instead you get the photo he sent me yesterday, with the specific intention of sharing here, from our front fruit orchard.

Covering

Inspirational song: Heart Shaped Box (Nirvana)

This entire weekend was cooler and overcast. I had planned to take advantage of this and do a ton of the yard work that went on hold while we were each traveling on our respective trips. So did that happen? Not until the very end of the available window of nice weather. We went outside at maybe 7 this evening, and laid down just a bit more weed barrier and mulch. Mostly we were spreading out the remainder of mulch that was piled up at the edge of where work stopped last time. 

I have no particular skill or experience doing this sort of work, so my section was inexpertly done. Hopefully this application will be forgiving, and manage to keep the weeds out as intended. We gave it maybe two hours of effort, with the Mr covering twice as much ground as I. Once done, as we were standing around admiring our work, I put my finger on why it looks so much better to me. The contrast of the dull brown mulch makes the bright colors of the flower beds that much more vivid. Even the greens of the stems were lost when they were surrounded by green lawn, made of mostly tangled bindweed. Now the stones stand out and the flowers seem taller and more impressive.

Soon we will move on to making the shade bed and the rock pathways. We have some of the hardscaping materials, but there may be a rock-gathering trip in our near future. Maybe some more will come down off his mountain.

 

Party Girls

Inspirational song: Splish Splash (Bobby Darrin)

It has been so many years since I was a hard partying kind of girl, I had to really stop and think tonight whether it really was a part of my past. Feels like a different person, distanced by more than half of my life. 

This evening the kids held a combo birthday party and baby shower. We were there for a couple of hours. Our job was to take the toddler back to our house at bedtime, so she could have a quiet night. We came back, watered the flowers, gave her a bubble bath, and then settled in to watch Encanto again. She stayed up to see the whole thing, when I assumed she would conk out halfway through. Papa, of course, is out cold.

I like this version of parties, cutting out early, completely sober, and no one says boo. I don't need to stay up late in a crowd anymore. I also like being the host of grandkid sleepovers. Seeing a pajama-clad kiddo smiling at me is the best thing in the world. Leave parties to the young. This is so much better.

Outrage

Inspirational song: Janie's Got a Gun (Aerosmith)

At times when the news is this bad, this infuriating, I have to distance myself. I'm too angry, and to prevent this space from becoming a string of swear words and fantasies of revenge, I will leave the plans of action to people with the wherewithal to carry them out, for better or worse. Suffice it to say, I am upset, but neither terrified nor sad, and I bristle at pundits using terms like those. I only feel rage. Pure, white-hot rage.

I focused on who and what is important to my small corner of the world. I cleaned house. I babysat my beautiful girl. I picked up my husband from the airport. Now I'm sore, from driving for hours and from sitting on the floor sorting out a bunch of novels (30 of them) that I'll never read again to donate. 

I don't know how, when, or by whom it will be established, but when the "auntie network" comes into existence, I plan to offer up my guest room as a safe space. It is the only concrete thing I know I can do to fight back against today's scotus abomination. We passed people protesting on Main Street when we came back to town, and I appreciate them, but my body doesn't allow for that anymore. I can do one thing well, and that is assume the role of mom/grandma/auntie/big sister/someone who will give a stranger a place to rest where it is safe. If I am needed, I volunteer my services.

Muggy

Inspirational song: Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

The day I got back from muggy Oklahoma, I was so relieved by the relatively cooler, definitely dryer air. After a few days at home, with our whole house fan still out of commission, and me being too lazy or stubborn to pull the portable air conditioner out of the closet, it doesn't feel like so much of a relief. I checked the relative humidity on the weather app, which claims it's just 20%, but I choose to believe it's higher here. I have a microclimate based on all my freshly watered plants, right? If that isn't true, don't tell me otherwise. I need something to blame.

The Mr is down in Alabama for one more night. He griped a little bit about the sticky blanket that passes for air down there. But for the most part, he will be in properly cooled homes, not counting the hour or so he had to spend in a hot airplane hanger for the change of command ceremony he went there for. I wish I could have gone down for the ceremony too, but I'm glad I had the flexibility to go to Oklahoma instead. 

With him out of town, it falls on me to be the primary pet wrangler. Most of the time, that's just fine. Between 5 and 7:30 am, it is a whole lot less fun. Saoirse's bladder alarm goes off first, and then the kitty boys tell me what a bad mom I am for making them wait past 6 for breakfast. I wish they could tell the difference between which parent is a morning person, and which one never, ever, ever will be.

Input

Inspirational song: I Don't Want to Know (Fleetwood Mac)

This is one of those days I don't feel like being a content creator. I'd rather be a content consumer. I don't want to come up with the words, when I could watch people on my videos pour words out at me.

I took the Mr to the airport first thing this morning, as planned. It felt like it took forever to get there and forever back, even though it was probably right around average. I did the bare minimum after that, doing only vague tidying of the container garden area, feeding animals, and making sure the recycling went out before trash day. I don't think I have to feel bad about wanting to spend the rest of my mental energy on watching comedy and cleaning videos on YouTube until I fall asleep again.

Back to Normal

Inspirational song: Doctor Wu (Steely Dan)

I waited too long to write. I ran out of energy. Now just staying awake is a losing battle. I hit the ground running this morning, and never slowed down until a few minutes ago. Now that I'm still, I need to be asleep. I'll be there shortly.

This week's Rotary was the special day when we go visit companies around town, while the church where we normally meet puts on vacation Bible school. This year, I chose the group who went to the local economic development organization. I zoned out a couple times during the beginning of the presentation, trying to remember the name of the economic development magazine I worked at when I was in my early 20s. Once I remembered Expansion Management, I could move on and pay attention. It was very interesting, and I intend to go poke around on their website to learn more.

On the way home, I appear to have tripped and accidentally fallen into the garden center at Lowe's. I had to pick up two more hanging baskets to create balance and symmetry with the way the front porch is set up. While there, I found one of the two large hostas I have been searching for. I found an Empress Wu. I'm still planning on getting a Sum and Substance. These two big hostas will go on either side of our maple tree, where we can't build up more of a mound (bad idea over tree roots), and then there will be a shade garden opposite the big flower berm.

We go back to the airport in the morning. This time it's the Mr's turn to travel. I'm off to bed to prepare to fight morning rush traffic. I'm already sick of that drive, and I have two trips there and back left this week.

Home and Processing

Inspirational song: Nothing Ever Goes as Planned (Styx)

Oh, my. That was a rough way to get home. Don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the flight itself. Barely a wobble in the air. Getting up at 3:30 am Tulsa time was hard enough. Not getting to go back to sleep again until 1 pm Mountain time was brutal.

I made it to the airport with more than enough time to clear a mostly empty security checkpoint. The line at the coffee shop heading into the concourse took longer. Apparently the person in front of me had a name of some sort of tequila club on it, and the two young women behind the counter commented on it after she ordered and moved down the row. I would have promptly forgotten about that detail, had I not grabbed my coffee and then immediately heard a group of 8 to 10 people say something celebratory about tequila, drawing my attention. They were raising glasses, doing shots while they waited to board their plane. Shots of tequila. In the gate area. At 4:45 in the morning. I flinched in pain at the notion.

I had sent texts to Mr S-P yesterday, saying things like, "I'm checked in online, and the plane says it's on time to land at 7." His phone decided he didn't actually need to see them. When I texted just past 6:30, to say the wheels had just touched down, I got responses back saying, "Shit! I thought you took off at 7!" I found a chair with a view of the curb where we had agreed to meet, and made myself stay awake playing casino games on my phone for an hour and a half. Yay.

We had errands in two different Denver neighborhoods that he thought he was going to run on the way to me. He dug up big pots full of raspberry and mint plants where they were trying to take over our garden, and offered them to two friends. So we delivered them in Aurora and Lakewood, before getting brunch and heading home. I was so tired when I got home, all I could do was strip off my travel clothes and tip over onto the bed, where I slept for three or four hours, mushed between all the quadrupeds who missed me for three days.

When I woke, I saw a text with more bad news. My neighbors had to put down bestest boy Barley tonight. He had been declining rapidly with lymphoma over the last few months. We knew this was coming and that it was close. It's just one more hit to my already bruised heart. I will need some quiet reflection time, to process everything from the last week. It has been a whole lot.

Show Me the Way

Inspirational song: Joe's Garage (Frank Zappa)

My time in Oklahoma has come to an end. I need to set my phone alarm for ludicrously early, and be ready to roll out of bed, into jeans, and into the car. My flight is at 6 am. Who the hell booked these tickets? (Oh, right...)

I had quality time with two sides of my family, but this visit was not meant to be long. I accomplished what I needed to. I even managed to sneak in a serving of Braum's ice cream after dinner tonight. 

I'm going to keep this brief, so I can get to sleep soon. Yay airport before dawn. I can hardly wait.

Unmatched

Inspirational song: Don't Fear the Reaper (Blue Öyster Cult)

Where does one start to summarize the whole of a person who was a larger than life figure? There is no way I could do my cousin justice in the amount of space I usually take up each night. He was too much. He was just right. He was a sweetheart. He was a terror. It all depended on circumstances, but no matter what, we all loved him to pieces.

Turnout was good at the wake in his backyard. We were instructed to dress "Hawaiian shirt casual," and to bring lawn chairs. My brother and I got one of those instructions right. (We forgot to bring chairs.) The whole rest of the family was there except my dad and step-mom, who were already traveling when the date was set for this weekend. We got to see relatives we haven't seen in a ridiculously long time. I was so glad to have another chance to hug them all and appreciate them for the fantastic people they are. There is nothing like losing one of the stars of your universe to make people remember to tell everyone who is left how much you love them.

I thought being out in the hot Oklahoma sun was going to be too much for all of us, but thankfully there was plenty of shade to be had and cold drinks available. After a couple hours of socializing organically, my cousin (younger brother of the one we were there to celebrate) invited us to sit in a circle and tell stories that we recall about Ric. It was suggested that the stories be PG, for the young kids who were nearby, but that didn't quite last, once we got going. Funny, nearly every story was harrowing, about when he did something crazy behind the wheel of a car (like falling asleep driving when he and a roommate were moving cross-country), or accidentally firing a gun inside the house (while cleaning), or picking a fight (he was a famous hot-head), or showing off water-skiing and both brothers just about knocked each other out getting tangled up. I should have set the audio recorder on my phone up when we gathered in the circle, but I didn't think of it until now. Heck, I forgot to take pictures of the crowd at all, and had to ask relatives to send me some. 

I swore to my one cousin, right before we left, that I'd share the last story he told before my brother and I left to go home. He was telling us about Ric's old Plymouth Fury that he bought in the early 80s, that he fixed up and just loved. He had dropped the very last payment into the mailbox one night, and was driving to meet up with a buddy who figured into several of the earlier tales. Something happened that bottomed out the car, like running off onto the shoulder or something, and it severed the fuel line of the car. He hopped out and saw the grass had caught on fire, and he quickly started stomping it out. He realized that though it was dark, he was casting a shadow. He turned around, and there was the Fury, engulfed in flames. He had just filled the gas tank, and all he could do was just watch it burn. Apparently, bigger than the frustration of losing the car he had literally paid off that day, was the disappointment that it never actually exploded.

The Home Country

Inspirational song: Living on Tulsa Time (Eric Clapton)

I have arrived safely in the land of my people. I had to wait an extra two hours before actually getting on the plane, but that gave me enough time to have an early dinner with Papa and toddler. He gets to babysit solo while I'm gone, so let's hope they don't take over northern Colorado in a flurry of shenanigans.

The flight was mostly uneventful. A few bumps as we climbed, but smooth as glass once we were at altitude. The sky was pure haze from western wildfires. It was disconcerting not to be able to see the ground at all until we were on final decent. The plane was tiny, just four seats across, but I had more leg room and butt space than any plane I have been on in 20 years. Who knew? I hope I get to fly this airframe again on the way home.

I can't remember the last time I made it down to my parents' house. That's not great. I should come here more often, and under much less sad circumstances than for a wake. I'm just glad the dogs settled down as soon as they realized I was there for fun. I doubt they remember me, and that's totally on me. The cats here are another story. Pretty sure they think I'm a space alien, for as much of a wide berth as they are giving me. I expect that will change by tomorrow. At least I hope.

Siphon

Inspirational song: No Spill Blood (Oingo Boingo)

Saw my beloved rheumatologist this morning. She asked me if anything had changed since she saw me last, right after the last surgery. I was so excited to tell her how busy I have been over the last couple months, gardening, working hard, breathing better. I was overdue for being able to share really good news. I did temper it a little, explaining that I have wildly overdone it as often as I can get away with, and am often sore and inflamed. So when she did my regular lab work, she added on a bunch of extra markers to check. The list of tests to run covered three pages (I looked at the orders I was to give the phlebotomist), and the guy kept grabbing vial after vial to fill. I ended up having to bleed out of both arms, when the first one ran dry. I'm pretty sure there were at least 8 vials, but maybe more, because he pitched two spoiled ones.

Because of work schedules, game schedules, and my imminent trip to Oklahoma, we celebrated Father's Day tonight. I made a Carolina style pulled pork, potato salad, veggie kebabs, and grilled eggplant. I shopped first thing this morning and loaded up the crock pot before racing down to north Denver for my appointment. Once I got back, I was on my feet for hours getting all of the vegetable dishes prepped and cooked. By the time we took everything to the kids' house to eat and play a new game, I was literally and figuratively drained. I made those two honored fathers fix my plate and bring it to me.

And I haven't packed yet. Have I mentioned how much I love my family, for making the wake "Hawaiian shirt casual" so I can pack light and easy? I'm going to challenge myself to get in one briefcase-size purse as a carry-on, and leave stress behind. Unfortunately, I'll be leaving behind all my snuggle bunnies. Saoirse and Athena will be so upset with me for going. We will have to cuddle extra tonight to make it last.

Flake

Inspirational song: Talk to Ya Later (The Tubes)

If there is anything the last two and a half years have taught us (some learned better than others), it's "stay home when you feel sick." Don't take that to mean I'm saying I have the Rona. What I'm saying is I have a tummyache, and I've been tired for a couple days. There were a bunch of things I wanted to accomplish today, and instead I squeezed all the good out of that wonderful fresh sheets on the bed feeling. I wasn't napping straight through for all three hours that I lay there this afternoon, but when I wasn't actively cuddling with my special helper dog and devoted cats, I was absolutely unconscious. I woke long enough to text my friend and apologize for backing out of a party this afternoon, and I was blessedly grateful to see the game group chat all reach the conclusion that we weren't meeting tonight, without me having to whine about my tummy a single time.

My daughter seems to be feeling very much the same, and we were together yesterday. I can't discount the possibility that she and I caught a stomach bug. But as we said to each other, I was feeling "very lupusy" and she was "extremely pregnant." It could be a coincidence.

Tomorrow I go down to see my rheumatologist, so chances are I will feel just fine for that. I invariably perk up when I see her, forgetting to mention all the little signs of disease I ought to keep track of. I suppose if there is anything important, it will show up in blood work.

I only walked outside of the door long enough to water my flowers. Tomorrow will be adventure enough to compensate for today.

Curveballs

Inspirational song: Elmo's Song (Sesame Street)

I just can't leave the house, can I? I was gone a few hours, with the girls to Target and to Rotary, and that big stinky dog decided to tour the alley and get in trouble with the fuzz. Somehow the back gate opened (and I always check the latch when I come through it because of dogs), and she got out. Animal control tried to nab her, and she freaked out and tried desperately to get back in the yard. Wouldn't let them near her, so they called the phone number on Murray's tag to make sure she was in the right yard. Small miracle, they left her there and secured the gate. Hey, Saoirse, how about tomorrow you cut mommy a break and don't make me worry so much about you?

Things had started out so well, too. I kind of needed to go to Target to pick up some travel size toiletries, so I can get away with just a small carry-on for the weekend. When my daughter called to see whether I wanted to go there, once again I had to wonder how we still function as if we share the same brain. (Older daughter used to wave her hand between us to make sure the umbilical cord wasn't still attached.) Days ago we had discussed trying there to find an Elmo doll, as we struck out last time we were shopping elsewhere. We walked around the store, and listened to Valerie correctly name everything she saw. Midway through the loop of the store, we showed her a stuffed doll from Animal Crossing, who she identified easily. But that stuffy went back on the shelf. When she got Elmo, and we rolled away with it still in her hands, she knew that "Mo" was hers. What a smile.

I'm feeling a bit stressed out because I'm having to change plans constantly right now. My days keep going sideways, throwing curve balls, pick a metaphor. I ought to take a lesson from Val, who carried one of her favorite toys outside after I dropped them off, and just grooved to music in the grass. Smart girl.

Rosy

Inspirational song: Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)

Less than a minute after I turned out my bedside light last night, a smell hit me. And I don't mean a fleeting unpleasantness. I mean I had to get up immediately and retrieve a whole new roll of paper towels from the garage and clean up the source of evil. Saoirse had been uninterested in eating for much of the weekend, and last night she demonstrated forcefully just how sick she was. I made her sleep in the garage last night, so cleanup would be easier (and I'm glad I did), and I slept fitfully worrying about her. I woke at 6:45 to go check on her, and get her outside while I cleaned some more. It was a bit of a negotiation to get her into the vet first thing, but I got her scheduled for a drop-off visit. She ended up being so clingy to me, unwilling to walk off with the vet tech, that they fully caved and put us in a room to check her out immediately. She was down several pounds and noticeably dehydrated. They gave her a shot that she didn't like (I'm not sure what the ingredient was that stung, but it also had B12 in it), and then 300ml of sub-q fluids. Now she is on a bland diet, prebiotic and metronidazole (Was I supposed to do those at the same time? Maybe I should verify that.) and an antidiarrheal. She seems a bit perkier. Me, I ended up sleeping most of the day, to make up for a stressful night.

I bought a plane ticket to go to my cousin's wake this weekend. I'm glad I was able to fly. I wasn't looking forward to driving like 14 hours each way. I don't remember exactly how long it takes to get there, but I remember that driving through northern Oklahoma stretches time in a weird way that always doubles how long you still have to drive, no matter how close you think you are. I found an almost affordable ticket, considering it's five days before departure, traveling at less than optimal times, but I'll deal with it. 

I didn't get to spend a ton of time working outside today, but I did get around to smell some of the roses. They're all going gangbusters right now, including the ones I never got around to pruning this spring. There are several around where the flagstone patio will eventually go, that I will attend when we get closer to working on that project. It's not high on my list this week.

Name It

Inspirational song: Counting Blue Cars (Dishwalla)

Did everyone's grandparents like to sit on the front porch "just to watch the cars go by," or was it just mine? I feel like I've asked this question here before, but it seems so relevant today. We spent a ton of time out front, with Valerie and without, and by the end of the day, I was wistfully musing about having the porch and garden ready to sit and count cars with the grandkids. Of course, as busy as our street is, we'd have to limit them, hence the Mr suggesting we count only blue ones. 

The kid has gotten very good at naming modes of transportation. She exclaims truck excitedly every time she sees one, and it's cuter because she has trouble making the "tr" sound. She loves spotting airplanes, and frequently connects those to Papa (grandpa's now official name), because she was told he flies them. We are close enough to train tracks to hear them go by, and she let me know when she picked up on one. And to my surprise, she made a seriously good effort to repeat the word motorcycle when we saw some. But for real, the best part was when some jerk in a green pickup went roaring down the street faster than the speed limit. She said what she always does (cuck), and Papa said, "no, Valerie, that was an asshole," from the other side of the garden. (I don't think she heard him, but I sure laughed.)

There were enough periods of cloud cover and shade today to make some noticeable progress out front. The Mr put down another few wheelbarrow loads of mulch over the weed barriers. We have figured out what to do for expansions of the paisley and shade gardens as we modify irrigation. Every time I come inside, I marvel anew how rewarding it is to be able to do what I'm doing after so long barely picking up my own head. I still get sore, but I'm moving better and breathing better. I remember a little more what it was like to work like a healthy person. I'll always have to mind my limitations, but they are farther out than they used to be, and I love it.

Melting

Inspirational song: Heat Wave (Martha and the Vandellas)

June is not supposed to be this hot in northern Colorado. It's supposed to be wetter, too. I'm not down with this 99 degrees and drought nonsense. Do not want. Zero stars. All the slang.

I still don't have air conditioning in my 63 year old house. It was so rarely necessary here, and I'm a miser when it comes to electricity, even though (especially though?) we create our own off the roof. But this year the whole house fan motor decided we could go rot, and we haven't replaced it yet. So there is a better than average chance I'm going to pull the portable air conditioner out of the closet and give it a spin. After a full summer never needing that thing once, it feels like giving up. But today was flat-out awful. I'll have to do something.

I went to breakfast with the girls this morning, before babysitting. I am astounded every day with how beautiful and smart that child is. She has made the full flip from shy observer to gregarious chatterbox. She repeats everything we say, and she demonstrates that she understands as well. This morning her mommy dressed her in plaid and pulled her hair into a ponytail, and looking at her, she and I both decided she needed handyman lessons. I tell you what, that kid is going to know her way around a tool bench by the time she is in middle school, knowing this family. Still to be determined how much she will like DIY, but she will have the skills to do whatever she wants.

Rickyrob

Inspirational song: Much Too Young (Garth Brooks)

I'm having all the feels today. I haven't fully processed the news that came in first thing after I got up. My dad let me know that my oldest cousin died early this morning. He and his younger brother were the cousins I spent the most time with growing up, and I think my mom won't be too mad at me for saying he was always her favorite of all my cousins. He was charming and funny (except maybe to his high school classmate, the above-mentioned Mr Brooks), and we always enjoyed his company. But I have to admit, I haven't been in touch with him in several years. It was his brother who was (is) more like a sibling to me than a cousin, so he and I communicate more often. Thus, the first time real tears started was when the brother called me to make sure I had been told.

To some extent, he had been on borrowed time for a while. He had a massive heart attack at age 50, and only survived because he was surrounded by people who had access to a defibrillator and training how to use it. But really, his whole adult life might have been that way. I remember going out with the whole family for a picnic when he was in college in the town where I grew up. His brother paid up on a bet that he wouldn't live past 21, and that day was his 22nd birthday. I mentioned that memory to my cousin when he called today, and he laughed and then got very quiet. I hope I didn't cause him more pain.

I don't know whether there will be a service or a wake or what. I promised that if there is something, I would be there with all the hugs that Colorado can send. If sometime next week, all my photos are from the highway, you know I'm on my way to Oklahoma to say goodbye to someone I loved from the very start.

It's a recycled photo sort of night. I'm sure you understand why.

Farmer's Tan

Inspirational song: Man of a Thousand Faces (Marillion)

I doesn't take a genius to predict that too much time in the sun on one day means a significant amount of downtime for me the next day. I was proud of how much I did yesterday, but I knew what was coming, and sure enough it did. Not only are my arms glowing red in patches where they faced upward, but I felt like I was sunburned on the inside. It was that sharp stinging feeling deep in my muscles and bones. I stayed in the house as much as I could get away with. I didn't even go out to water the flowers until almost 9 pm. My farmer's tan is nearly complete. From the elbows down, I now match my ankles that have remained pink for weeks, since I sat out on the ground wearing high water jeans. I wonder what the back of my neck looks like about now.

I had an opportunity to leave the house, but I turned it down. It was tempting to go to my favorite chicken restaurant with the girls, and then to a craft store. But between the sunburn and the desire to stay close to the teevee (because, duh, politics junkie) I made them just come to me. Thank goodness the takeout food from that restaurant is as good as eating in the establishment. I should have tipped my delivery girls better. I did give them pina colada ice cream, so maybe that counts.

In the Neighborhood

Inspirational song: Hello Goodbye (The Beatles)

Did you know people walking up and down the street are much friendlier when you're visibly back on track with yard projects? At least, that's how it seems. We have people smiling and pointing at one flower or another as they go by, when we see them from inside. When we are outside, we get a lot of hellos and chances to pet doggies.

There were major leaps forward on the turf removal today. I had intended to just work a little on the edges, literally. I went around the edge of the driveway, shoveling up clumps to rip out the weeds, and sat and pulled out all green matter. We had reached the conclusion that it's in our best interest to tidy the edges and then just bury the rest under weed barriers and mulch. The Mr got busy digging out a sprinkler head that needs to move (apparently somebody has driven over it when she backs her new car inelegantly into the driveway to reach the charging cable), and he turned over a few more thistles for me to thin out. (All thistles must die.) He will need parts to move the sprinkler, so that is on hold until the weekend. We decided it was better to go get a truckload of mulch from the county and go ahead and start in a different spot. There's a triangle of space between the original paisley shaped bed, the new tall mound, and the rogue volunteer yarrow patch that now has a layer of cardboard, weed barrier fabric, and mulch. It's not a huge space, but visually, it shows me that things are changing.

I spent at least three hours out in the sun, working on pulling weeds. What was I thinking? I had a hat on, but my forearms were exposed. I'm working on a bit of a sunburn there. I sat on a hard iron chair for most of it, and am correspondingly sore. Plus this undid all the good shoulder work from Monday's massage. Rats. Regardless of the pain, I am thrilled to see the yard changing by leaps and bounds now. Maybe in the next day or so, I'll start acquiring the rest of the stone materials for my paths. Depends on whether I can actually move after today.

Pleasant

Inspirational song: A Little Good News (v. BR5-49)

Does every single day need to produce three paragraphs of drama from me? I don't think so. Sometimes the days are just quiet and pleasant. I had lunch with my people (Rotary), watered my plants, and visited with the kids when they came over after a trip to Boulder. I got permission to share a few of the pictures they sent from Pearl Street and later the hardware store. I'll do that (and put in some of my pretty flowers) and call it a day. I hope your day was equally enjoyable.