Thoughts from Crow Cottage (My Main Blog.)
crowbelle's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rowing Along With Only One Oar ROWING ALONG WITH ONLY ONE OAR Have you ever had to row a boat in the ocean with only one oar? You don't get very far, you just keep going round and round in circles and never advancing at all. That's my life now. I hesitate to write a journal for you because I'm sure you are all sick and tired of hearing me complain about this ache and that pain. They are all still here with me, but I'll try not to echo them so much. I don't know if I told you here (I know I've mentioned it elsewhere) but I finally broke down and made a doctor's appointment for a physical for the middle of July. I am having trepidations about it, of course, not having been to see a doctor in at least 15 years, probably more. But the date is set, and I must attend. I fear my life will never be the same again - either for better or for worse - we'll just have to see. Around the homefront, life at Crow Cottage goes on at its slow deliberate pace. We have had way more than we wanted of rain this spring. Many, many inches of it, even many feet of it. Flooding all around, several different times. The grass is so green and long all the time, we can't keep up with the mowing. Normally I do the mowing here, but with my bum-leg, I just can't do it now, so Paul has taken over the task. He's not really into having a nice neat short lawn like I am, so he only does it when he has nothing else to do, which isn't very often. For Father's Day this Sunday, we have invited Paul's folks over for an afternoon dinner of lobster. Paul has some "shedders" he needs to get rid of ("shedders" are soft-shelled lobsters who have recently shed their hard shells, and only have soft shells underneath that haven't hardened up yet.) They are perfectly good lobsters otherwise, and you don't eat the shells anyway, but the lobster dealers would rather not get them when he goes to sell them, so we get them. I'm not complaining. The only time we do get lobster here is when there are shedders or when Paul has too many "bullets". "Bullets" are lobsters with no claws - they probably lost them in an altercation of some sort. The dealers don't like getting those either, so we get them. It's fine with me because the tails are what I like the best anyway. Work is the same. It never lets up. I can't believe how many people go to doctors... everyone, it seems. And they all have complaints and illnesses, and it keeps me employed, so I am grateful for that. The day will come when I will be out of work, due to the advent of the "electronic medical record" which is infiltrating our area hospitals even as we speak. So it's only a matter of time when the old fashioned doctor's dictation on a little tape will be a thing of the past, and I will be out of a job. Looking for a new job after the age of 60 is not my idea of fun, so I am not looking forward to that day, when it comes. I just wish we could hold on to this set-up for another, say, 6 or 7 years, until I retire for good. That would be ideal. So that's about it. Not much to report about, I know, but such is our life here. Emmalee is trying to fit in to our routine. She likes it here, I think, but she has a little problem with chewing a few things she's not supposed to chew, especially when we go out and leave them home alone. I guess she gets bored. She was used to living in a household with about 16 other collies, and now with only Whitby for company, maybe she is bored. So far, it's only been the contents of various small wastebaskets that she's chewed up (mostly paper products like paper towels and Kleenex), apart from that first day she was here and she chewed and ingested a whole rubber ball. But the other day, she tore apart a little hooked rug I had by the front door. It's a goner now, and I wasn't amused. She likes unraveling things. It was only an inexpensive rug from Target, but it was pretty and I always liked it. Darn. She never does it when we are home, either. She sleeps right next to me on the bed each night and is very lovable and smushy, so I guess I can forgive her foibles, that is, until she chews up something really important... Enough. I must get to work. It's Friday, and on Fridays I don't have to have my work back to the office until Monday morning so I can take a few extra minutes for myself in the mornings. But those minutes are gone now, and work is calling me. Cheers, Bex 8:05 am - 16 June 2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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