A Dead Squirrel for the Holidays

Happy Holidays! And no, that's not a dead squirrel; that's Burned Santa. Remember him? As a real innovation, Bob added lights to Burned Santa's interior... you could even say he glows.

Here's the other side. Bob was trying to keep up with the honored tradition of putting lights our for Xmas. I like the effect: sort of Xmas in Hell.
Anyway, I went to get wood for my studio wood stove the other day and as I  picked up a couple of logs, I saw this fluffy grey thing. At first I thought Bob had left a glove on the wood pile. But it was a squirrel and it was most emphatically dead.

After assessing that it wasn't "playing opossum", I took this picture, wondered idly how it died- old age? log fell on it? scared to death by Robin chasing it? who knows. But it didn't have any obvious evidence of foul play, like blood or bite marks on it. I told Bob and he disposed of it as I was rushing off to work or something and forgot to get rid of it.
But it gets weirder as the next day, I was walking by Maggie's barn and I saw this:

Another dead squirrel! Now we had a mystery on our hands! At first I suspected it was the same squirrel and an animal had found the first squirrel carcass and carried to to the barn but on closer examination, it was clearly another corpse, as it's tail was bushier and it's position was different. It was kind of creepy because how often do you find dead animals just sort of laying around? Was there a rash of squirrels suddenly falling out of trees, an outbreak of squirrel plague or do we have a group of elderly squirrels ready to depart this mortal coil all at once? I guess we'll never know what killed them but it was definitely strange to see two dead ones within two days.
Let me know if anyone spots further squirrel die off and I'll post something more Christmas-y like our tree later this week.

Cheatin' on Maggie

It's true! I have been cheating on Maggie with a horse named Missy, pictured above. Missy belongs to my friend Gloria who spends the winter in Florida. She was kind enough to ask me if I'd like to ride her horse for her while she whiles away her days on the beach, getting warm and sandy. (We're freezing here!)
I think Missy- seen below in her entirety- misses Gloria, but she's been a good ride for me so far. She seems to be pretty level headed and not spooky or flighty. And she really looks the part of what she is- a Quarter Horse. Very different from my poor Mexican Pony Maggie who is still out of commission because of reoccurring abscesses in her hind foot. Maggie is altogether smaller, both width wise and height wise.

 A comparison:

Maggie is a good hand (four inches) shorter and probably two hundred (or more!) pounds lighter. Even their heads are different: Missy has the wide forehead and big jaw of a Quarter Horse. Maggie has a much longer, narrower head, but your guess is as good as mine as to what Maggie is... maybe part Mustang? Maggie is/was a pretty comfortable horse and it's too bad she's been lame.
I have been fortunate to be riding with Sabina, the woman who actually owns the farm. She has been riding a horse named Hannah, that she bred and raised. Hannah's great; about two years ago, I did some lessons at this farm and Hannah was the horse I was partnered with. She's got a great attitude but a really big, roiling canter- much bouncier at the trot!- than Missy or Maggie. (We didn't ride this past week, though as it snowed and was something like 12 degrees).
And here's what Missy thinks of me; she leaves a big pile every time we ride.

I think I posted this particular subject to avoid what is really on my mind. The winter (which doesn't even begin until this Thursday!!!!!) is already taking it's toll on me. It's dark and cold and the days are short and contrary to whatever it's doing in Florida, it's snowy here. We had such a protracted fall that winter hit suddenly and I sure wans't ready for it! I'm also in avoidance about the holidays. I did make Xmas cookies (one of my two requirements for "celebrating" the season) and we are considering a tree. Maybe that'll get me going, and the fact that it's supposed to be in the forties on Wednesday when we ride... thank goodness for that!

The Orange Menace Affliction

 (Above: (Fucking) Moron. This is a new piece channeling my "inner Rex Tillerson". Didn't know I had one, right? Well this is one thing I agree with him on...)
I have effectively diagnosed myself with Trump Anxiety Disorder. Having read several news articles (not fake!) describing exactly what I've been experiencing, I am a text book case. I just wish there was an easy cure.
I sleep badly. And then I wake up hoping the power is on- somehow this is my signal that a nuclear bomb hasn't been dropped on us over night. I figure if the electrical grid is functioning, we're still okay. I guess I should be glad for small things. Or maybe that's a big thing!
I can't stop reading/listening to the news. I wish I could control that impulse, too. Bob and I are news junkies at present: updating the progress of the Mueller investigation, scrolling to react to whatever insane tweet has burped forth from the White House.
I know we're not alone: every late night talk show is obsessed with the actions of him. Although at least we laugh when his actions are parsed and parodied! If we didn't laugh, we be screaming. Maybe that is the more appropriate response.
When will it end? But then I contemplate "president Pence". Not much better- a homophobic, women mistrusting religious zealot who is every bit as crazy and dangerous, just in a different way. Women would probably have to wear burkas if he ascends to the throne in case of impeachment or resignation. And if Pence is dragged down along with The Orange Menace, would we survive "president Ryan"? Oh please! He's the architect behind the rethuglicans cruel tax overhaul! Isn't there enough income disparity without Ryan soon claiming that because of huge deficits (because of those charming millionaire increasing tax cuts) there must be cuts to "entitlements" like Medicare and Social Security... Don't get me started!
And tonight is the much anticipated Alabama showdown between Roy Moore and Doug Jones. What has the rethuglican party come to that they would seriously consider a man who stalks under age girls at shopping malls and is a pedophile pervert because "at least he isn't a Democrat?" Is that really the choice? Bob and I have obtained pizza and wine and are planning on celebrating the weirdness of our times. Looks like it's gonna be a long night...

What's That Smell Like Meat, Oh Baby?

Scent is a very personal matter. What smells just great to one individual can be less than appealing to another. This is most often proven while standing behind an overly cologne saturated individual in a supermarket checkout line (or any instance where escape is impossible). I feel the urge to gag, but you know the wearer of the offending scent is sure they're attracting all the bees.

I bring this up because the flower here illustrated is a good case in point. I was taking Robin out the other evening, and I was assailed by the odor of rotting meat... a sweet, cloying definitely meat-like smell. I suspected a dead mouse in the wall until I realized I was smelling the Brugmansia!

Once I identified the smell as emanating from the flower, it was reassigned to the section of my brain that registers "things that are supposed to smell good", and I guess it does if you like decaying meat. The better to attract pollinators like bats and flies! (It's a smell reminiscent of jasmine, which I'm also not drawn to; I prefer clean, "high note" florals like phlox. I love the smell of phlox!: like clean laundry and sunshine).
This particular flower is trying hard to establish itself in my good graces. It was a generous gift from our good friend John Trainor- even though I warned him that I have no luck with Daturas and Brugmansias. And true to form, this plant struggled all season, not growing much in the direction of verticality and seeming to strain to produce a few new leaves. (And as soon as a new one appeared, an older one fell off; sort of a zero sum leaf gain). By the end of the summer, it was (embarrassingly) barely larger than it had been when presented to me and I decided to compost it. But on it's way to the compost pile, it revealed that it was producing a flower bud.

So I brought it inside and it bloomed! And then it produced a second out-size bloom, as documented here. It's obviously enjoyed the move indoors and as it's December and there's nothing else blooming, it's gotten a reprieve. And it does emit that weird smell...

Dog Dreams

Robin does sleep in elaborate and seemingly uncomfortable contorted poses, wedging herself in a space next to my side of the bed and flinging her legs akimbo. She often has one leg thrown across her face in dramatic fashion... quite the diva! And this little diva has a Urinary Tract Infection!

I thought she was suffering from blocked anal glands when I took her to the vet last Wednesday. She had been dragging her butt on the floor and had rubbed a good deal of hair off her tail (which I didn't really notice until I looked an older picture of her and noticed her tail lookd skinny). They "expressed" them (half full) in a professional manner- oh! Yes! I watched several dazzling Youtube videos on the correct fashion in which to empty dog anal glands but found it not at all easy to locate "two grape sized glands at five and seven o'clock; lift and squeeze". Needless to say, Lil' Robin the Good was deeply disturbed by all of the attention to her back side and spent the next several days with her tail clamped tightly down and spinning if I approached her from the rear, as if to say , "Oh no you don't!"
I was less than impressed with the "new vet" who was on duty that Wednesday that we visited the office. I sometimes think that there's a conspiracy to make vets more like people doctors: they're now very quick to recommend expensive tests and lab work and x-rays. The vet I had been going to for years was much more common sense and was really a nice guy. His son has inherited the practice and is very "yuppie" in his up-selling approach. I suppose they did (expensively) redesign the waiting rooms and exam offices and have to pay for all that antique woodwork somehow! Like when Robin was taking a course of antibiotics for a tick-borne disease this spring. Vet Junior proscribed a "pro-biotic" for Robin... sort of like when I take acidophilus while on Doxycycline to keep my gut moving. I went along with it and then was flabbergasted to see Robin's pro-biotics were waaaaaaaaaaaaaay more costly than the antibiotics and possibly irrelevant. I had actually asked Vet Senior this same question years ago when Frank the Dog was under treatment for Lyme disease. He scoffed and said, "Look your dog is probably picking up all kinds of bacteria from eating animal poop and the like. His gut bacteria is just fine." Doctor knows best.

(There's Robin now, wondering what all the fuss is about. And enjoying the mess that she has helped to create. Way to go Robin!)
Many friends have reported similar experiences with their vets: a rush to tests and much more aggressive interventions, without better results. Friends have dogs on chemotherapy and long term diabetes treatment. It's pretty appalling that our four legged friends are suffering the same debilitating chronic conditions that we do! (Bad diet, awful breeding of "purebreds" with congenital disorders, stupid ill advised medical procedures like spaying and neutering... don't get me started! Much of this is avoidable). And I know several friends who have sprung for very expensive pet health care plans. I read the fine points of a few of these plans and was less than impressed with what was covered for the cost; many of the larger bills are not covered.
So Robin seems fine; ironically her urine test came back negative.... but she's also not waking me up at 2:00 am to go out and pee so maybe she had a very low-grade infection. I've had the same! Symptoms but a negative test. And Robin looks great- very shiny and in good weight and she has more energy than the average dog (although she is far from average!!) so I'm certain her prognosis is good. Long live Robin the Good!

Cleaning Out Mommy's House

Many of us have been faced with the emotionally and physically taxing task of emptying a deceased parent's house. My sisters, Cathy and Beatrice, and I are doing this now.
It makes me feel all sorts of uncomfortable things, all at once. I get impatient: I just want it to be done! Over! I want to spend my time in something other than a mouse poop infested house that isn't mine. I know my sisters share this emotion, although perhaps they express it differently. Cathy seems capable of seeing our house cleaning activities as a way to spend time together. That's a nice thought but I'd rather we had gathered for dinner or a trip to a museum or something else entirely.
And then there's the mixed feelings of picking up a chipped coffee cup and thinking, "Wow, Mommy drank out of this every day but who wants it?" On the one hand, it's just an old cup. And on the other hand (yes, Cathy! There are five fingers... a family in-joke of sorts, referencing our other deceased parent. Hello Daddy!) and on the other hand, it was a cup that Mommy used all the time. It now takes on that eerie personal history that infiltrates frequently used items. A tough thing to do- throw away bits of some one else's life!
But you can't keep all of it: Beatrice thinks every box we open, full of chewed newspaper and yes! more mouse poop!-will hold a treasure of sorts: that antique Barbie doll in an original box, her Foxy hand puppet (Stieff) or a simple million dollars. No such luck!
What we turn up is weird bits and pieces. Maybe this old coffee pot is worth something? What do we with a few matching plates that have no cups? Do we really want to dispose of those old dolls, even though they have been desecrated by play? It all takes time and an untold toll on your psyche to paw through it.
We know all the good stuff left a long time ago. There wasn't much but the jewelry was probably shoved into the pockets of underpaid substitute personal assistants and the few other things- a mirror? a set of cushions? also mysteriously vanished.
So there truly is not much left of a life. A pile of furniture that didn't look quite so worn out when you were seated around a Thanksgiving or birthday celebration, a couple of paintings that Mommy did (which I seem to be babysitting) and a trunk full of old photos that no one wants, but no one wants to throw out. The very fact that some one else (your Mother!) made the decision to keep these items, only to have us toss them away is sad.
I get bitchy and angry and depressed. I am exhausted by so much debating the relative merit of that old blanket or that pile of old school work. And then there's more mouse poop...
I just want this to episode to be over with!

Stairway to Heaven

After that last posting, I was ready for a change of pace and attitude! So here's a project with a positive outcome: a brand new stone and mosaic step for my studio. And yes, those are my feet at the bottom of the picture.
Bob had said for quite a while that he had stones picked out with which to construct an official step for my studio. I have been making due with a simple wooden step that was functional but not especially pretty. And instead of one large stone that would have been hard to move up from the stream area and put into place, Bob suggested three large stones with cement and mosaic in between. A great idea!
Bob did his usual magic leveling and arranging the stones and then he helped mix up the cement. I had the fun part of selecting the plates from our vast collection of smashable crockery (cheerfully provided by my place of employment as many dishes come in already cracked, chipped or otherwise defective). I first toyed with the idea of using a slew of green plates, then red plates and finally circled around to choosing blue plates as it references the blue walkway we made through the Blue Garden. It was the right choice as the perfect plates volunteered themselves and I happily bashed away.
It was fun playing with mosaic again; we hadn't done that since the walkway project. I know that making the terrace behind the house was a big inspiration to making the step. And what an important step it is! It leads into (and out of) my studio. There is that inevitable metaphor of crossing a threshold from one reality to another.
Here's a slightly further back view:

Isn't that nice the way the stones and the tile integrate? Plus it's so much larger that Robin and I have a bigger landing pad when we depart on our morning walk. (I don't remember exactly why we always exit through my studio, but we do... ). Bob correctly decided that the shape and color of the mosaic looked like an eye. I showed him a preliminary sketch I did- of an eyeball! I had wanted that as a sort of subtle suggestion, nothing really literal or obvious. Just a suggestion of the internal seeing that goes on when in the studio...