Slacker

I have not been good about posting lately! I went into work Thursday morning for about 4 hours and came home absolutley exhausted. I don't know if it was fatigue or if I picked up a little bug from someone, but I am really just starting to feel better today. Proceed to scold me; I deserve it, every bit of it. I had no business staying that long. So, I haven't done much the last couple of days but sleep and watch TV. I am feeling much better though.

Thanks for all the compliments on Gerrard's pictures. He has been a joy since his first day in our home, which isn't to say that there haven't been days that I've wanted to choke him. Boxers really are wonderful, happy, loving, quite smart dogs. It is their enthusiasm that gets them in trouble. :)

I have missed more Fabulous Friday's than I care to admit. In recompense I offer a few portraits from my archive. I hope you all are having a lovely weekend.

Lavinia Bingham, Countess Spencer (wife of the 2nd Earl of Spencer)

Lady Sibyl Sassoon, Countess of Rocksavage, Marchioness of Cholmondeley

Leonilla, Princess de Sayn-Wittgenstein, PrincessBariatinsky

Torturing Your Pets - Part 2 of Many

What will be difficult to believe is that in the following pictures Gerrard is in fact not angry, growling, or otherwise disgruntled. He just doesn't like what he's smelling. We first discovered the "Predator Face" when we were using lavender oil to treat some little bumps he had on his face (It's a boxer thing. Those wet, sloppy jowls make them prone to what can only be described as dog acne). Evidently, the smell offends him. For those of you not familiar with the Predator movies, here is a photo from the movie to explain where we got the name.

And here is Gerrard's rendition.

Now, from the look on his face you'd think he would want to avoid whatever made him react that way, but quite the contrary - you get the lavender oil out and he comes a runnin'. Same thing with vinegar. Either he's a glutton for punshiment or, like any other little boy, he likes stinky things.

Torturing Your Pets - Part 1

Johnny & June

When Walk the Line came out several years ago, I didn't want to like it. I can't explain why. So, when I did enjoy the movie it impressed upon me what a good story it actually is. I happened to catch it on TV Saturday and got drawn in again. I think I've blathered about it to everybody else I know, so why not you too? :)

The movie always leaves me wanting to know more about June Carter Cash. She must have been a phenomenal woman. I mean, she actually saved Johnny Cash. He was an absolute mess and she saved him. How often does that really happen? Of course, he had to want it for himself, or it never would have lasted, but you get the feeling that his love for her was the only reason he tried. There is something almost mythic about their love. Something that gives you hope. Who wouldn't want a love like Johnny & June?

P.S. YouTube has some fantastic old footage of the two of them performing together.

Cabin Fever

So, to add insult to injury our computer died on Wednesday. Officer B very kindly replaced it for me today. He said he was afraid he was going to drive by the house and find me in the window with big note cards, trying to communicate with the outside world. I've got to tell you, after a few days alone in the house I start getting a little weird. Considering I'm pretty odd to begin with . . . well, you can imagine. I think the clencher was when I shared my theory with him that John McCain is a zombie. Anyway, I'm back on-line so things should improve quickly.

I haven't been idle though. I had to do something to keep myself occupied so I dug out my beads and started making earrings. That was okay for awhile but then I started getting cranky fiddling with all those tiny little beads.

I also finally broke down and went to the bookstore and got a new book to read. I'd gone through everything I'd been given, not to mention crossword puzzles and nearly every movie in the house. I've been bored. Can you tell?

Character Sketches: A Fly on the Wall

You know how I love a good character. I am a great collector of characters and am always on the look out for a good one. Did I ever land a whopper this morning!

The individual in question was a woman of about 50 years, dressed brightly in a blue gingham over-shirt with coordinating t-shirt and slacks. She wore flip flops and her toe nails were painted a plum color. Her hair was an ash blonde that tended more towards gray and there was a healthy plumpness to her cheeks that spoke of relative wealth and comfort. She looked like any of a hundred other suburban housewives. With her was an elderly woman who she addressed as mother and an elderly gentleman who either genuinely was hard of hearing or feigned it for his own sanity.

The family was already waiting when Officer B and I arrived. Despite our presence, Mrs. Gingham sat in a public waiting room, gossiping viciously about a young female relation – a niece as best I could figure- who was leaving for college.

“Her mother left. Didn’t I tell you?” Mrs. Gingham made some half-hearted attempt to whisper but she was obviously too excited.

“No, when did this happen?” Mother queried.

“Awhile ago. She went back to Georgia. I think that’s where she was from. Just packed up and went back to Georgia. Her mother had just been everything to her. I guess she got over it. She seems fine now. But her mother was just everything to her. She seems to have gotten over it.”

The husband was a lump of a man who Mrs. Gingham had never liked. “He would just grunt at you. I guess she had just had enough and went back to Georgia.”

Mother chimed in, “I couldn’t leave my children. Well, boys are one thing, but not girls. I couldn’t leave my girls.” (Boys are one thing?! Mothers have less affection for their sons?! Freud would be capering around his office on that one!)

“Anyway,” continues Mrs. Gingham, “She’s going to be living in the dorms. In these suites, more like suites than dorm rooms. They have their own kitchens. I don’t know how she’s affording it but that’s what she says she’s going to do. I guess her daddy is paying for it.”

The conversation detoured to how hard it must be to work in oncology (although I presume one of them was there to see the doctor). Mrs. Gingham revealed that she worked at a local hospital (the one I have had such bad experiences at) and how much she hated it, just hated it, when she had to work with the oncology patients. “I hate it, hate it, hate it.” (again, these people weren’t there on holiday so the vehemence of the comment seemed very odd.)

“So, anyway, she says she’s going to start out Pre-Med.”

“Oh! is she smart enough for that?” asks Mother.

“No! She’s not that smart! Not that I’ve seen any evidence of. But that’s what she says she wants to major in. I just told her, ‘Well, okay.’”

I think I visibly blanched at that last exchange. I don’t know if the poor girl is clever or not, but for her own flesh and blood to talk about her that way . . . as the saying goes: who needs enemies? It's sad really. An excited, hopeful teenager shared her plans with this woman and this is what was made of that trust.

My mind isn’t twisted enough to have created such a creature, but there you have, for all posterity, Mrs. Gingham.

Lemons and Lemonade

Hullo all! Thank you for your warm wishes and sorry to have had to pop off without much notice last week. I am safe and cozy at home again and all too glad to have my books and puppies within easy reach. I returned home on Saturday evening and Wasabi has been at my side ever since. Gerrard would very much like to be but he gets the wiggles so bad that it is impossible for him to sit still for more than a few moments. He brings me lots of toys though.

I woke up the Friday before last and quickly discovered that I was not going to be going to work that morning. A chat with The Good Doctor and it was off to the hospital for tests and lots of lovely pharmaceuticals. Three cheers for pharmaceuticals! It is a rather convoluted story involving changing doctors (yay!), waiting for some very fancy researchers to perform some very fancy tests, but the short version is, whilst waiting, there was some tumor growth, subsequent discomfort, which led to chemo and all the normal protocol for dealing with such things. All that being said, I feel fine. It would be very difficult for me not to feel fine given the stuff I’m taking! :) I’m home and happy, under the care of an excellent physician, we have a plan and that is all I really care about.

Actually, this hospital stay had a lot of positive outcomes. I was at a better, nicer, (Read: I’m never going back to that other awful place again) hospital and under the care of some of the kindest people one could imagine. My previous hospital visits had resulted in a major psychological rift between me and the nursing profession. The mere mention of the word ‘nurse’ would dredge up anxiety to the point that I suffered nightmares. I wish I were joking but, for once, I’m being dread serious. This time was different. This time I had a bright, cheery room with a lovely view and I honestly believe that the nurses cared for me as well as they would have their own child. There were days that I honestly felt a bit spoiled.

And I got yet another demonstration of how fabulous my friends and family are. They never cease to amaze me with their generosity and compassion. Officer B and Daddy, always on the front line, holding my hand through the worst of it and moving heaven and earth to get me what I need – always steady and calm, despite their own fears. I’d be so lost without them. Liz, her sister Rebecca, and other lady friends arranged it so that someone stayed with me every night. It was such a comfort to have them there and I know I slept easier because of it. My poor sister had to manage another family crisis all by herself and did so with her usual quiet grace (You make me proud, kiddo!). And so many others who brought me books, and candy, and crosswords, and prayers, and good conversation, and maybe even a little work (against their better judgment) to keep my brain from atrophying. I could go on and on with hundreds of examples of the kindnesses shown me. No matter how you slice it, I am a very lucky and very loved girl!

Update on Mrs. Fox (Posted by a Friend)

Mrs. Fox is momentarily dealing with a few elephant related issues and will return as soon as possible. She's doing well. Yesterday she spent several minutes explaining to me the absolute calamity that is American journalism (whilst pointing her TV remote accusingly at CNN). Needless to say she is her normal spritely self.

Thanks for your well wishes, she greatly appreciates them and will return very soon.