Good Morning! Here it is, another Saturday. For most of you, it's the beginning of the end to the workweek. A mini-vacation. A respite. For me, one day usually runs into the next, no one different than the other. I do have to say, though, that the past 2 weeks were nice for me. My husband and I house/pet/pool-sat at my brother's house, while he was on vacation, down the shore. For those of you who are not from New Jersey, down the shore means at the beach. While he and his wife and their 2 children, and assorted family members and friends were there, I was at his house. He has a wonderful, well-behaved, soulful looking hound dog-mix and a cat. The dog, Zoe, is lovely, sweet-natured and a bit on the needy side. She's very afraid of thunderstorms; a little less afraid of fireworks. My brother and his wife also have a cat. I don't remember her name. This stay, I saw her once during the whole time I was there. We always know she's somewhere about - the food disappears and there are deposits made to the litter box. I don't know which room she stays in, or how the dogs don't find her. Well - I guess they are why she hides in the 1st place.
When we stay at my brother's house, we always bring our dog. Our current dog, (we are on our 9th) is a 2-½
year old Cairn Terrier. On his "official" papers J his name is Constable Hamish Mac Duff, but we call him Duffy. We always feel that Zoe might like to have her "cousin" to pal around with while we're there. My eighty-four year old Mom lives in the same town as my brother, so she comes over every day to spend time with me. I try to spend as much time as I can with my Mom. I adore her and we get along well. We like a lot of the same things, watch some of the same TV shows and are both rabid New York Yankee fans. In my case, I've been a Yankee fan since I was about 6 years old. The Mother (my Mom), had to learn to like them. She was born and raised in Brooklyn, "Noo Yawk" (New York), so she was a fan of "Dem Bums", the Brooklyn Dodgers. When the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles, CA, in 1958, they broke the hearts of thousands of Brooklynites. To this day, there are some oldsters from Brooklyn who have never forgiven them. Many Dodgers' fans didn't have anyone to root for a couple of years, until the newest team to join the storied New York sports teams arrived on the scene: The New York Mets. Some fans, of course, did stay with the Dodgers, but the Mets were right there for ex-fans of the now LA Dodgers to adopt. They certainly couldn't be expected to root for *Gasp!* the Yankees!! Brooklyn Dodger fans grew to adulthood hating the Yankees. Even their beloved team's dumping them for climate of sunny California could make them turn to the Yankees, so many of them became Mets fans. She was saddened by the defection, but my Mom wasn't all that affected. She'd married a man 10 years before the Dodgers went to LA, who was a complete Yankee fan. Through the years of their marriage, as they raised 7 children together, my Mom began to be more and more of a Yankee fan, reluctantly at first, but less so as time went on. She had to. All of their children had grown up to become Yankee fans. Mom was simply outnumbered. Now, as the matriarch of our family, she is a complete Yankee fan. She thinks that Derek Jeter is a "very nice young man" and she is a great fan of Mariano Rivera.
This time, when I stayed at my brother's house, I was on my own during the week since my husband had to work. I'm always happy that my Mom comes to hang out with me when I'm at my brother's house, but this time, she was more welcome than ever. She insisted on staying overnight with me the first night Bill wasn't there, but I convinced her that I'd be fine every other night. She likes to be with people - she really doesn't like to be alone and I love her company. It makes me very happy that she seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy hers. Not only do we like a lot of the same things, but I also know who most of the people she talks about were and are, so I can follow the stories she likes to tell. I continue to learn from my Mom at the same time I'm learning new things from my grown sons. Happily, there are some things I can still teach them! I was perfectly fine overnight. I just had to make sure the dogs went out at about 11. Each night they wanted to go out again at between 2 and 3 in the morning! Duffy, the most continent of all dogs ever, doesn't ask at home. In fact, when Bill leaves for work he lets Duffy outside or goes out with him to play 'fetch the tennis ball.' Sometimes, he leaves at 10 and doesn't get home until after 7:30. Duffy not only doesn't let me know that he needs to go outside, but he almost never goes outside when I open the door for him. He just waits most of the time. He is completely housebroken - he does let us know if he has to go, it's just that he seems to be able to hold his water for an extremely long period of time. Bill always says that we'll get home to find poor Duffy with "all 4 legs crossed", but, nope. He's really a very good little guy. I love how he walks. As I've said, Duffy is a Cairn Terrier. Some of you may know that the little dog who was Toto in 1939's The Wizard of Oz, was a Cairn Terrier. That dog was black. Duffy is a dark brown, brindle color. (Bill thinks he's grey). He's not grey. My first Cairn was a wheaten color - a blond. J She was 5 years old when I married Bill, who was smart enough to realize that she and I were a package deal. J Her name was Lady Fiona MacTavish, but she was always called MacTavish. She was my husband's very first pet. In his 33 years up to when he married me, he never even had a goldfish from the Parish Fair!! Bill adored MacTavish and she loved him right back. She lived to be 15. That's fifteen years-worth of unconditional love. Bill buried her behind the fence at the back of our property. Heh. When she was about 10 years old, I thought she was really slowing down. At the time, we knew that Cairn Terriers were long-lived, we just weren't sure how long, so we looked around for another dog, to keep her company in her "golden" years. We learned that Seeing Eye of Morristown, where they breed, raise and train dog guides for the blind, sometimes puts dogs up for adoption. Some are old and their person can't keep them and a new dog, too. (Seeing Eye dogs aren't expected to work for their entire lives. They are retired after about 5 to 6 years of age. Many blind person keeps their seeing eye dog, or it goes to a family member, but there are some that go up for adoption. Some, on the other hand, are young dogs, that for some reason, couldn't work as a Seeing Eye dog. The one we heard about was 8 months old, had been in the kennel at the University of Pennsylvania for about 5 months. He had gone through the beginning of the training that all Seeing Eye dogs go through - they go home with a family to be fostered, taught their doggie manners and begin to learn what will be expected of them later on in their lives. This dog, however, had arthritis in his right elbow. As such, he couldn't be counted on to work every day, so he was put on the adoption list. Bill's cousin, Tom, lived in Morristown, where Seeing Eye is, and he went to look at the dog. He called that night and he said, "I massively suggest that you call right away and get this dog while you still can!" Well, Bill went to look at him and surprised me by bringing him home with him. He cost us a donation of 20 bucks, which is what Bill had in his wallet. They even threw in his collar and least. His name was Aspen. He and my Mike were the same age. Chris was 2, so they grew up with Aspen. As it turned out, Aspen's arrival kick-started MacTavish, giving her a new lease on life and she lives another 5 years, so my boys grew up with both of them for a while. Aspen's coming was a turning point of sorts for us, too. After MacTavish died, we got a Cocker Spaniel puppy whom we named Meriadoc Brandybuck or Brandy. After those 2 died, we always had 2 dogs at a time. When my dog, Splinky died in 2007, Bill and I realized that for the very first time since we were married 30 years before, that we didn't have a dog and we really didn't like us. I remembered how much Bill had loved MacTavish and I thought we were ready for a smaller dog, so I searched for a breeder who we could afford. We drove up to upstate NY, took one look at the darker of the first 2 puppies we saw, paid for him and took the puppy home. My only problem Is that I want another dog. I love having 2 dogs for the same reason we have 2 cats right now. Two are more fun than one. I'll have to work really hard on Bill. Ah, well. I have my work cut out for me.
Today, tomorrow and Monday will be above 90°, so we are in for another heat wave. Yippee. It's not only going to be hot again here in the northern part of the country, but also out West. At least this heat wave won't be like the one 2 weeks ago, when the temperature got above 100° for three days in a row. Luckily, and thankfully, I will be in my room in air conditioned splendor. I have never done well in hot weather, even before I got old enough to become acquainted with lovely hot flashes. Now, I'm too hot when it's above 72 and I'm almost never cold. I mean, I never, ever wear sock, even when I have to go outside when there's snow on the ground. Socks make my feet way too hot!
While I was at my brothers last week and this past week, even when the temperature was above 100°, I was really looking forward to going swimming in my brother's wonderful in-ground pool. That pool is one of the reasons we agreed to house-sit for him when he needed us to do so. We've been doing it since before they had their dog, and that's about 7 or 8 years, I think. I wanted to go in the pool. My sister-in-law and I share a dislike for cold water. She doesn't usually go swimming nearly as often as the rest of her family does. The temperature of the water in the pool doesn't get to the mid-80's until August. But this summer has been a warm one and she told me that she went swimming every day. I was stunned. The first day we were there 2 Saturdays ago, Bill went in the pool and came back to tell me that the temperature of the water was 85. That's even warm enough for me! Unfortunately for me, the only way to get down to the pool is via two flights of stairs. I have degenerative joint disease (also called osteoarthritis) of my spine and both my knees and in most other joints to varying degrees. My right knee is the "bad" knee, making the left one, of course, the "good" knee. Not so much anymore. Just in the last several months, the good knee has become more like the bad one. It's difficult to bend either one now without a lot of pain, and steps are particularly hard. I did go down to the pool that first, really hot week, and the water was absolutely glorious. The only way it could have been chilly was if a strong wind blew, but there was no breeze. I stayed in the pool for almost 2 hours, which is a lot for me. I had gone down the outside steps that lead off the deck, but it was really hard and there are more of them than inside. When coming back in, I climbed up the shorter, first flight, using a cane, but I had to crawl up the second flight. It took so much out of me that I didn't go in the pool again that week because Bill wasn't there with me. I went in the pool again this past Sunday because he was there to help me on the steps. It was just as hard and after I was back in bed, my good knee was really swollen for the very first time. That doesn't bode well, I'm a-thinkin'.
I guess I'll just stay in my bedroom today and tomorrow. We have this car that I swear Donald Duck wouldn't even drive and right now it doesn't have any air conditioning. My husband uses his car to get to his clients. I cannot imagine how awfully uncomfortable he must have been two weeks ago when it was so hot! I sure as hell won't be going out anywhere in that car this week, Oh - except for one day when I have to go to a women's imaging center to have a battery of tests done. Huzzah. I'll talk more about that as the week goes on. I hope. I am not very good at this daily journaling. I've been trying to keep a daily journal long before The Internets came along. I found one of those little fabric-covered books with the ruled pages a few months ago. I'd begun writing in it when I was pregnant with my first child, who turned out to be my son, Christopher. Chris will be 32 early next year. The book has about twenty paged written on. After I wrote a bit about how it felt to be pregnant and a teeny tiny little bit about being a new Mom, I stopped for a while and then began writing down the few family recipes I had inherited from my Grandma Meaney. After about 3 or 4 recipes, those stopped, too. I always mean to be better at it, I just never can seem to. I'm giving it another try, as you can see.
I hope I do better this time. I'm just sayin'
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