I hope I don't bring everyone down with this entry. Gloria's death is just the latest in a whole series of unhappy events in my day. God bless and keep her.
I'm wrung out emotionally. Although I never met the young man, I'm mourning the death of Sgt. Ryan Russell of the Toronto Police Service who was senselessly run down by a maniac who stole a snowplow and wreaked havoc in the streets of Toronto for two hours before deliberately running into Sgt. Russell's police cruiser. He was thirty-five years of age, an eleven year veteran of the service, and leaves behind a young wife and two year old son. More than 13,000 people attended his funeral, a fitting tribute to a very fine young officer by all accounts.
Deaths in the line of duty hit too close to home. My youngest daughter is married to wonderful young police officer and my second daughter is dating yet another. C has a niece who is a police officer and she is married to an officer on the Tactical and Reconnaissance Unit of one of the larger forces in Canada. Having spent several years as a police dispatcher, one of my greatest fears was that one of the officers on my watch would be injured or killed. Thankfully, that never happened.
This has been an exceptionally busy week. Among other things, I've had a Council Meeting and a Library Board Meeting. This evening I have a meeting to help plan celebrations for our village's sesquicentennial.
Yesterday, I accompanied C while he had sixteen teeth removed in preparation for dentures. (The entire procedure took only thirty-five minutes.) C resists taking any medication, particularly pain meds. The oral surgeon prescribed both an antibiotic and an analgesic. C told me not to fill the prescription for the analgesic. Since C doesn't suffer in silence, I had both prescriptions filled and fibbed that the second one was an anti-inflamatory. He dozed off and on for the remainder of the afternoon, took his meds and slept peacefully through the night. I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt (no conscience, I guess) because I got a good night's sleep, too.
This morning I dropped Bonnie at the vet's to have him neutered. I suspect he had some premonition of what was coming (despite the fact that I have hidden all my medical journals together with my copy of 'The Joy of Sex' from him) as he resisted entering his travel crate with every last ounce of strength. In addition to several bandaids on my hands that bear witness to his reluctance to enter that crate, I anticipate coming home more than $200 (tax included) poorer when I pick Bonnie up this afternoon.
Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to delivery of my new range. My current stove is twenty-five years old. and when I moved it out to ensure a clean spot for the new one, I'm afraid it looked as though I hadn't cleaned under there in at least that long. Amongst a huge ball of animal hair, I found several animal toys, a covered elastic, two bottle caps and a few other indistinguishable items. Oops!! I hope I haven't made a huge mistake. I ordered a smooth top range. I've heard mixed reviews on that variety. I consider myself a good cook, but I'm also very messy (to the point where I make huge batches of pastry, put it into aluminum foil pie pans and freeze them for future use. Otherwise, my kitchen would be covered in flour every time I needed to bake a pie.) I also worry about canning and pickling. Many of my recipes call for long, slow cooking. Ah, well, time will tell.
Today, I finally found time for me!! Yahoo!! As soon as I post this, I'm going to get to visit Mitzilou's Secret Little Getaway Cottage, a pleasure I've denied myself for far too long.
Thanks, everyone, for making me feel so welcome. Blogging here again feels like coming home following a long absence.
I really ought to be in my kitchen preparing for my Christmas celebration. When my kids began to marry, I allowed (Do we really get to allow our adult children to do anything??) them to spend every other Christmas Day with 'the outlaws'. I considered this to be a very generous gesture on my behalf, cause I love having them home with me on that special day. Anyhow, this is my 'off' Christmas, so we will be celebraing on Saturday. I've prepared the carrot pudding, the fruit 'cottontail' (so dubbed by my eldest granddaughter when she was very small) and two pans of squares. I've got a 24 lb. turkey defrosting in my cold cellar. Tomorrow, I'll bake pies and prepare the stuffing. Saturday will be busy and noisy - just the way I like it.
The animal situation here and at our farm has changed somewhat. As those of you who have followed my blog know, I lost my kitty to a heart attack back in May. At that time, I wasn't sure that I had the heart to replace her. Along about June, my hairdresser announced that her cat was pregnant. I couldn't resist, and asked if I could have a kitten. I brought the little monster home five weeks later. Despite the fact that it is a male (till next Thursday), I called him Bonnie. You'll recall that my 'found hound' is called Clyde. At first, I thought I'd have to find the kitten another home, because it attacked Clyde constantly. My vet told me that when Clyde decided it was old enough, he's put a stop to the kitten's pestering him. I doubted that. Poor old Clyde simply tolerated the nonsense or ran away from the little thing. But the vet was right. Eventually, Clyde pushed Bonnie over onto its back and began to play 'spin the kitten' with it. He can't do that any longer because Bonnie has grown too long, but the two of them play ridiculously wild games to the point that I have to jump back to avoid the turmoil on a regular basis. When they become exhausted from all the roughhousing, they curl up together and Bonnie grooms Clyde. When Bonnie's been very naughty and he knows he's in big trouble, he grooms me. The kitten has been very good for Clyde who had carried too much weight for a long time. S.B. (since Bonnie), Clyde has lost ten pounds and acts like a puppy again. I've read that people who have pets live longer than those who don't. In my case, it will at least seem longer. My monster kitten takes up a great deal of my time. I'm still trying to break him of jumping on tables and counters and climbing curtains. I've worn out one squirt gun already. He's currently parked himself on my desk, directly in front of my monitor.
Neither Itchy nor Firefly(see photo in a previous entry), C's horses, would settle down enough for our grandchildren to ride, so C sent them back to their previous owners. (Since then, the stable where Firefly went trained her properly and she was sold as a Christmas gift for one of the stable's students.) Itchy resides with my stepdaughter who says he behaves himself very nicely with her horses. In their place, C bought Casey and Hershey, both of whom are, apparently, much easier for the kids to handle than Itchy and Firefly. I'm afraid I've become a 'fair weather farmer' (and not much of a horse lover) in my old age so I've seen the two new horses only once. I'll post more photos in the spring.
We still have Nancy, the pony, Sadie, the goat, and Pepper, Bobo and Tiny, the beagles.
Bonnie at 8 weeks of age - can you see the devil in his eyes? One of my nieces tells me that it's my own fault he's so naughty because I named him Bonnie.
My youngest daughter and granddaughter rounding up Casey and Hershey
It's been a very long time since I've even logged onto GG. I apologize if I've missed important events in any member's life. Although I ran successfully again for our local council, and that takes up a lot of my time, I hope to spend more time catching up with each of you. I have really missed the cameraderie from this site.