Soldiering On

 Grabbing those bootstraps and keepin' on

General mood was not helped by getting a text from Gill yesterday morning that her husband Jim (whom I've known for 30 plus years) was in a motorcycle accident.  He's been riding a bike for as long as I've known him and is a very careful rider.  And thank God he wears all the things:  Boots, gloves, jacket with spine plates, helmet. Fortunately he was going only about 35 when a woman in the next lane changed lanes into his and clipped him with the back of her car.

He was unconscious for a short time but revived in the ambulance.  The CT scan showed no major damage.  He has a huge lump on his head, and left a lot of the skin on his right leg on the pavement, but he'll be all right.  At least physically; psychologically it's gotta hurt - it's the first time he's been hit.

The bike, on the other hand, in a goner.  Good only for parts now.

FaceBook memories from Thanksgiving a scant four years ago.  Seems like a lifetime.

Happy Times.  It's hard to see this and wrap my head around the idea that he had only four months to live.

Ebaida is trying to figure out how to help her brother's wife - sudden death brings on extra expenses.  She tentatively asked if maybe I could do a fundraiser, because the American dollar is very strong against the Egyptian pound (like 30 to 1).  I did - but also warned her that people see so many GoFundMe fundraisers that they simply scroll past them.  We've gotten a few hundred dollars, which will help, but I feel that she's disappointed (and she won't let me personally help her, which is frustrating.  And my modest anonymous contribution didn't fool her.)

My friend Los posted a clip from a Dr. Who video (the Doctor's Wife) in which, for a brief time, the Tardis was able to assume a human existence.  She spoke of a word, a big word, but so sad:  Alive.  "I'm Alive."  The doctor said that alive wasn't sad. She looked at him.   "It's sad when it's over.  We will always be together.  But this - this is when we talked."

I miss talking.

I had a vision of him today.  I was dusting the shelves in the den (preparatory to Mike's visit) and had a sudden vision of making them.  Rather than painting or staining the shelves, we burned them.  I could see him standing between the barn on the cottage, shelf on a sawhorse.  Wearing a white (well, once upon a time it was white) T-shirt and torn jeans, a bandanna headband, using the weed burner to sear the wood.  When it was nicely colored, I would grab and wax it while it was hot.
I visualized it so very clearly.  It's been so many years now since I have worked in tandem with someone, building a project.  I had thought I might get a shadow of that at the woodworking class I took, but alas - no one showed up.  Maybe someday (still missing the Halloween Howl).

I did have one thing happen that could also be considered negative, but it was so very stupid that it lightened the mood.  I was goofing around with the cats - kneeling on the recliner and peeking over the back.  I felt the back start to go down; after all, it's a recliner.  But it wasn't reclining - it tipped over backwards and threw me face first into the wall.

It seemed to happen in slow motion.  I felt myself hit, then start to slide down, my lip pulling up and my teeth starting to scrape the wall.  NOT THE TEETH!  I was able to twist my head to the side.
Lying on the floor, I took inventory.  Teeth still seemed to be intact.  Then it occurred to me to check my neck.  Seems to be still on straight.  Today I'm sore, and look like I've been in a bar fight, but I'm OK.  Have to admit that doing something that stupid lightened the mood.

I'm still continuing my virtual walk of Oaxaca.  I chose a good program - it's enough to motivate me, but not enough to discourage.  To meet the challenge, I only have to put in about a mile and a half of walking (or equivalent).  If it were something like 5 miles, I'd probably soon fall behind and give up.  But 1 1/2 miles is easily done.  So far I'm even ahead of where I should be by almost 4 miles (I've done 13 miles in 5 days).
If I finish this one (should be done my mid January), then my friend Nick and I are thinking of doing a Lord of the Rings one together (they have various ones - if we walk to Mordor that's 283 miles.  Maybe I'll stick to the Shire at 145 miles)

I also signed up to a food app while it was on black Friday sale.  There's a cooking show I follow on YouTube called SortedFood - 5 British guys who like to cook.
I have sort of gotten into a rut in cooking - I have 4-5 things that I eat in rotation.  I usually don't even think about what I'm going to have for dinner until I get hungry (which is about now - 7:15 - so I don't want a lot of cooking time)
I even though about a food delivery, like Hello Fresh.  Rob and Amanda use it - it's convenient, because everything is portioned out and the instructions are there.  But they brought me a box one time when they were going to go on vacation.  The food was OK if pretty mundane, but the environmentalist in me cringed at the packaging - pre-measured means that you end up with piles of little plastic packages that once held a spoonful of sour cream or soup base.  Far too much waste for my taste.

This food app sends you a choice of "packs" - three meals in each.  The idea is that each meal is different, but uses the same ingredients, so that you use all your fresh food by then end of the week. It has a shopping list, and both audio and written instructions.  I figure if I cook even a couple a week it will expand my repertoire.  But not tonight - because I'm hungry and it's going to be my usual pasta-with-vegetables-and-a-cheese sauce.

Tomorrow will be going to work and trying to explain my beat-up face.

Checking My Emotional Pulse

 It was a pleasant Thanksgiving.  I worked at the museum in the morning, and then Rik and Christy had me over for dinner with a couple of other "strays."  They're both great cooks and Rik was amazed at how much I packed away.  I'm glad I went; like skipping the concert,  I almost bailed.  I seem to be in withdrawal mode (rather obvious in the last two posts)

The holiday season is always hard.  I remember my mother's last Thanksgiving, as she pushed her fork around on her plate and then lifted it, still empty, to her mouth.  I ended up feeding her.  It hasn't been helped with having to deal with butchered chickens, and my heart breaking for Ebaida on the loss of her brother.  I very much miss our daily chats and banter, but it will take time for us to giggle together again.

Yesterday, I took an emotional "inventory."

3-4 days worth of dishes piled in the sink and on the counter.  A couple of baskets of laundry that have been sitting in the bedroom for days. The coffee table piled with random detritus, and the couch slipcover mostly on the floor.  Check the fridge - curdled milk and yellow broccoli.  The bathrooms - oh, dear.  I'm feeling chilly a lot of the time, even though it's not cold.

Unexpected triggers.  Yesterday I was running some laundry and washing dishes.  Suddenly the washing machine stopped and the light over the sink went out.  My first thought, of course, was power outage - except that the music was still playing and the overhead lights on.  So maybe a circuit breaker popped - but the light and the washing machine were on separate circuits.  After a few seconds the washing machine came back on, and I realized that it was just a coincidence that it had stopped between cycles just as the light bulb burned out.

And there was no one I could share that little bit of funny weirdness with.

I was watching a Rowan Atkinson comedy.  Atkinson is brilliant, but by no means beefcake.  But in one sketch he was fighting to try to get a shirt on, and the sight of a bare torso made me realize how much I desperately miss the simple pleasure of skin contact.  I felt twisted up inside.

Conclusion:  depression has set in.

Evaluate:  Don't worry about the milk and broccoli - it was the last cup of milk in the carton, and most of the broccoli can be eaten anyway.  That's minor.

Do I get out of bed in the morning?  Yes, and at the normal time.  Are the cats, remaining chicken, goldfish and squirrel being fed?  Yes.  Litterboxes cleaned daily?  Yes.  Am I brushing my teeth and hair and putting on clean underwear?  Yes.  Am I going to work at the museum?  Yes.

Not too bad, then.  Give the demon a cup of tea and some cookies and then buckle down. 

The coping mechanisms: (2024 self- this is for you in case this happens again)

 Break out the antidepressants.  Helps to have a crutch.  Get over that feeling of "where do I even start" on all the mess.  I grab my master list of things that need doing, literally flip a coin to choose something at random, then set a timer for 15 minutes and clean as efficiently as possible.  Amazing how much can get done - and then the rest doesn't seem so overwhelming.

Self-care.  Like still going to the chiropractor.  Dr. Lewis and his assistant are both nice people, so it's a little social outing.  And I'm with people whose goal it is to make me feel good.  Sometimes I take myself out to lunch afterwards.

Move.  It's hard to find motivation to get my backside off the couch.  I have an online friend who has been doing this thing called the Conquest Challenge.  It's a virtual walking tour; I chose the 98 mile/8 week one for Oaxaca, Mexico because I've been there a few times and love it.  Each day you log in your miles (walking or any other exercise) and it shows you where you are on the map.  Every few miles you get some history, pictures, maybe a video.  It's bringing back pleasant memories as I'm recognizing places we've been.

A bit of self-indulgence.  I ordered some supplies for foam crafting, which I haven't done for awhile.  Of course, I don't know when I'll get them, because they were shipped FedEx and I forgot to put in the note to hold it at the office and they don't have enough drivers to deliver packages.  It's been in town and on the truck for two days now, but it can take up to a week.

I also ordered some more luxury fiber for spinning - a blend of camel down and silk in a colorway called Opal.  It will be beautiful both to look at and to feel.

And, of course, the Big One:  Michael will be here a week from Monday for our trip down to Universal.  He's so thorough - he's actually been studying up for the trip (we're focusing on Harry Potter World).  He's been reading about it, watching videos, and even has his list of "Easter Eggs" and things to make sure he doesn't miss.  I realize that I'm feeling like a person who has been undergoing a long slow starvation and sees a feast coming.  6 days of being with someone that I love, someone to share things with, someone to eat with, to laugh with, have a glass of wine together, to wonder at things together and talk about them.

So I'll be all right.

RIP Jake; Ebaida; Shawl

 I lost the Jake battle Monday.  I did his morning rounds, then went to my chiropractor appointment and to the museum for some more meds.  When I came home I mixed up his fluids and got everything ready, and when I picked him up he was gone.

I was hoping that maybe, just once, I could win.

So I buried him and cleaned up all the medical stuff and sat down at the laptop to tell Ebaida because she's been worried about Jake (and me) and I have a message from her of "my brother died and I'm on my way there."   And that's all I know.  I know that her brother and family live a few hours away, but she hadn't said anything about him being sick.  I haven't heard from her for two days now.  I know that she's busy, but she's emotionally delicate and I'm really worried about her.  And there's not a damned thing I can do to help her.  Later, when she's able to talk, but for the moment I'm helpless, and I hate that.

That had repercussions Tuesday at work.  The staff were busy (there was an inspection of some sort).  There were two other volunteers - one is fairly new - learning well but still gets confused - and the other is a bit on the ditzy side.  So when it came to preparing the diets, I got the most complication station - the meats.

Thing is, because of losing Jake after a 5 day battle (and still feeling so frustrated because I'd worked my butt off securing the chicken yard and everyone had been safe for a month, so this attack caught me just when I was starting to relax) and being terribly worried about Ebaida - let's just say I had a hangover.  And I had to be up to my wrists in squishy raw meat and cut up fish.

Tonight I'm doing something that I never do:  throwing away money.  I'm not stingy, but I am pretty darned frugal, and if I buy something, I get my money's worth out of it.  There's a concert tonight - Manheim Steamroller.  I've been a big fan for over 20 years - I own several of their CDs.   I bought my ticket a couple of weeks ago.  And I'm not going.  It's only November, but I'm already tired of driving in the dark.  I don't want to go out, enjoy myself, and then come home to see if I have to deal with anything that went wrong (the last remaining chicken has been moved to the back deck, but raccoons have ripped into there before in years past).

And I don't want to bloody go by myself.  I've been really good about going out this year - four circuses, a comic con, the highland games, the Harry Potter symphony.  I know that someone should not just sit home alone, but "go out and meet people."  I've been going out - the meeting people thing doesn't seem to be working.  Like when I went to go clean and repair the loom for the living history museum in the next town over - none of the weaver's guild I invited to join me did, and the people there said "thank you" and then went away to let me work.  I agreed to demo at the Highland games because there were supposed to be other people doing fiber arts - and they didn't show up and I did it solo.  I took the woodworking class not only to brush up on my tool skills, but to maybe meet other makers.  Except the other people who signed up didn't show up.

So much as I like Steamroller, tonight somehow I didn't feel like being surrounded by a roomful of people, all who seem to be in couples and groups, and then drive home alone in the dark to my lonely house (and possibly have to deal with something gone wrong).  I'd rather just cocoon. 

It will be OK.  Tomorrow I'll go to work in the morning and then Christy and Rik have invited me to Thanksgiving dinner (just a small group, informal on the picnic tables) so I'll get up in a minute to cook sweet potatoes and make a charred Mexican street corn salad).  Adrianne just checked today to see if I'm free for lunch Friday.  So I'm not really huddling alone.

I'll even have a show-and-tell.  I used to knit almost obsessively.  When my parents were doing the in-and-out of the hospital thing I kept the knitting bag hanging on a hook where I could grab it.  I knit while Bob was driving; I knit in the car.  I knit a lot when he was in the hospital, on 3 or 4 projects, but I couldn't focus enough to finish and after I came home I eventually unraveled them. And every time I thought about knitting, I would remember sitting in that hospital room. Finally, last January I cast on some luxury handspun yarn.  Bit by bit over the last year I worked on it (part of the problem was that I have plenty of knitting needles, but should have bought some new ones because they were almost the same color as the yarn and I couldn't bloody see the fine stitches).  But miracles happen.  I did finish it, and now it's facing the torture that all lace must, being washed and then stretched out and pinned to open up the pattern.  Surprisingly, it seems to have turned out well.

Must get to the sweet potatoes.

Update

 Against all odds, Jake is still alive.  That's about all that can be said, but it's something.
And I'm slowly becoming functional again.  I had to do some running around yesterday - to the museum to get more anti inflammatories, some Chlorhexidrine (an antibacterial/antimicrobial spray, and Wringer's lactate.  Then I went to visit Gill, who gave me tea and sympathy (and cookies), and a big hug.  Also her shepherd Trevor, who did his best my snuffling my ear and sticking his nose in my butt.

It's really up to Jake now whether he lives or dies, but I'm doing what I can.  He needs to be bathed daily to keep the wounds clean.  About an hour before that, I give him the meds to at least help with the pain.  Three times a day I get some fluids into him - via a feeding tube.

It's not that difficult with birds.  You wrap the bird in a towel, get someone to hold it steady, and pry the beak open.  The trachea is just at the base of the tongue.  You hold the bird's head in one hand and tilt it up, which helps to close off the trachea.  You then slide the catheter down the esophagus into the crop and administer the fluids.

That's how it works in theory land.  In Real Life - the "someone to hold the bird" seems to be absent.  So instead you put the bird down on the floor, and kneel to tuck it between your knees.  With one hand you hold up the bird's head and stretch out the neck and with the other hand you pry the mouth open and slip the tube down the trachea - by feel, because your eyes are nowhere in line with the bird's head.  With your third hand you press down the syringe.  Repeat three times a day.

My concern here is that it's not enough.  You can only put about 10 cc (1/3 ounce) at a time.  Otherwise it could spill back up out of the crop (because he can't hold his head up yet and aspirate.  I don't want to do more than 3 (maybe 4) feedings a day because I'm shoving a tube down his throat and that has to get irritating after awhile.  The alternative is subcutaneous infusion.  This is easy to do with cats (I've done it quite a bit in the past) because of their loose skin.  Birds - not so much.  Time to study YouTube.

The best place to find loose skin turns out to be on their underside, between the top of the thigh and the keel.  It's not easy to pull up the "tent" of skin (and hard to see because he still has feathers there) but it can be done.  So - have "someone" (meaning your thighs and knees) restrain the bird on its side, pull up the tent of skin with one hand, insert the needle with the other, and with the third hand reach over to open up the valve on the Wringer's lactate.

It can be done - it's just a bit stressful.  Until he's feeling better it's going to be a pattern of 1) tube fluid and meds, let rest for meds to take hold; 2) sub q fluids.  Let rest for awhile.  3) tube fluids and meds, let take hold; 4) bathe and medicate wounds, and finally 5) one last set of fluids and meds and we both get to rest for the night.

Really hoping all this works.

Broken; Raccoon

 I just feel broken today.

Yesterday was a long day.  I worked in the morning, and then went to the dentist because of a persistent toothache over the last several days.  That tooth has a crown; Dr. McSoley popped it off, cleaned things up, and refitted it.  It feels better now, although there's still a bit of a dull ache.  And if that doesn't go away soon, it's time for yet another root canal.

Then I came home, rested a bit, and headed back to the museum for a team appreciation party.  It was just a laid back get-together with pizza for an hour or so.  It wasn't late when I got home - somewhat after 7, but dark and raining.  I went out to put the chickens up.

Raccoon in the scratch yard.  It's been four weeks since my hen Scissors was killed by one.  I have worked long and hard on that yard and I thought I had it secure.  But there were the bloody bodies of my black and white hen Spock - and my beautiful new rooster Jake.

I haven't even written about Jake yet.  Suzie gave him to me a week ago.  Funny story behind him - she was in a shopping center, and outside of the State Farm office there was a really beautiful small statue of a rooster.  She went for a closer look - and he moved.  So she stuck her head in the office to ask why they had a rooster.  Turned out that he and two hens had just shown up a couple of weeks before.  They had been nice enough to put food out.  The hens had succumbed to the danger of living in a parking lot. Suzie asked if they wanted her to take him - and she did.

The problem is that she had some young hens (because she, too, had raccoon problems and recently got new birds).  Jake was paying them too much gentlemanly attention (to put it politely) and she felt sorry for them, and asked if I wanted him.  I did.  My remaining two hens had been acting listless ever since the last raccoon attack, and they were used to having a rooster around.  Besides, Jake was just so damned beautiful.

And now I was standing in the rain, looking at his bloody body.

First I picked up my hen - I've had her for 6 years, and liked her, even though she wasn't laying much any more; she was a nice bird.  Then I started to pick up Jake - and he was still breathing.  With apologies to Spock, I gave her a hasty funeral, because one must tend to the living.  I got him washed off, covered him with bacitracin, and gave him some antibiotics and anti inflammatories.  I put him in a cage on a low heating bad.

Against all odds, he was still breathing this morning.  And this evening.  He's even moving slightly.  But his head is still just hanging loosely, his eyes are closed, and his breathing is rough.

Obviously I didn't sleep much last night.  I worked so hard on that chicken yard; I thought I had it safe again.  I did everything I could think of.  And yet - well, I couldn't stop hearing my father's voice:  "Your best isn't good enough."

I felt almost immobilized this morning. But I did get up, took care of Jake and my remaining hen Rocky (who has returned to the back deck) and the cats.  Got myself dressed and to work.  I had to tell Suzie what had happened to her beautiful bird.  She was very sweet, and even hugged me - which almost broke me.

I'm just feeling very fragile.  There's so much that has gone wrong since the day Bob got diagnosed.  We lost Fiona that day, and then a couple of months later Pookha, and a couple of months after that our friend Anna.  Then I lost him.  The air conditioning died and had to be replaced.  The ceiling leaked and part of it fell in.  The deck had to be torn out and rebuilt.  I lost Wilhelm, then Nazgul, and, a week after that, my friend Ellen.  We had had peacocks for almost 30 years - but bobcats (at best guess) got them.  I lost Apache, Hamish almost died (thank God he survived), and then I lost Tula.  Rob and Jeff and Nancy moved out of town, and Mischa has died.  Five of my six chickens killed.  I was given a beautiful bird - and now he's lying there, bloody, with his feathers ripped out.

That's a lot in just a few years, and I've been dealing with it alone.  Sometimes I am just so completely tired.  I wish I could just lean on someone, feel arms around me. Feel safe, if only for a little while.  I was cleaning the deer habitat this morning, and the tamest one came up to me.  No one was around;  I slid my arm around her and leaned my face on her side, feeling her breathe, feeling her heart beat.  I miss that so much.

But I made it through today, and came home and took care of everybody, then made tea and sat outside in the sun to read.  Even though it wasn't cold, I put on a sweatshirt and put up the hood, just for the need to feel enveloped, cocooned.  

I know a lot of this sadness is simply because I didn't get much sleep last night.  I'll crash soon, and be able to keep moving tomorrow.  

More Work Around the House

 Today's gripe - I cannot get used to this time change!
It was already starting to get dark earlier, because that seems to happen during the fall/winter months.  Then it gets speeded up by an hour - and here I am, at 7:00 p.m., thinking that it's time to go to bed.

Last post I talked about staining the deck.  One thing leads to another; now that the deck looked nice, the mildew-stained front of the house looked less than stellar.  I washed it when I power washed the deck, so it's not dirty, just stained.  So my next trip to the chiropractor was also a trip to Home Depot for paint.

But first . . . (there's always a but first, right?) there was a Side Quest.  Obviously the paint would have to match the rest of the house.  I knew we had a sample sized can of color matched paint.  In The Barn.  I even knew more-or-less where it should be - in a cabinet in the back.  In the process of clearing a path to get there I looked at whatever was in my way - and most of it was moved to the front of the barn to be taken to the dump (I have no need, for example, for large boxes full of old phone coax cable (Bob's father used to work for a phone company).  Then I opened the cabinet, with its decades worth of old paint, stripper, fillers, etc.  And most of that also got dragged to the front.  It was enough to fill up the car for a trip to the dump yesterday.

But miracle of miracles, I did find the paint that I needed, and got it matched, and got the front of the house painted (except for the white trim - that's for another day) and it looks much nicer.  I should have taken a before picture - but it was a little embarrassing to have let it get so grungy.

 

Of course, by contrast now, the porch looks really neglected, in need of a good all-over cleaning and possibly some fresh paint itself.  Sigh.

But yesterday I did drag the power washer over to the cottage and cleaned both decks and stained them today.  And in the process noticed that a couple of boards on the front deck seriously need to be replaced.  Again - it's always something.  For now I'm just going to put my little goat statue on that spot so I won't step on it.  At least for the side deck I got before-and-after pictures.

I'm not 100% happy with the color of the stain.  I didn't like last year's either - it had a sort of pinkish tone.  The one I chose this year (Chestnut brown) was a rich brown on the can - and this sort of milk chocolate color on the decks.  But it will protect the wood, and next year I'll try yet another color.  Eventually I'll get it right.

I think that's enough outside work for now - other than doing some weed whacking.  I have a lot of fallen branches to pick up, and I also want to dismantle and burn the old fence around the butterfly garden.  But we've been oddly dry lately - I don't think it's rained for at least a month.  I could do a fire if I had a big open field, but I'm right at the edge of the woods and I don't want to risk starting a forest fire, so that job can wait.

Besides, Mike's coming in three weeks for our Universal adventure, so it might behoove me to clean the *inside* of the house.

But for now - think I've earned some couch-sitting time.

Deck Done

 Well,  that was relatively painless.

I remember the trials and tribulations of the last time I stained the deck, about a year and a half ago.  (full story here: https://returntotheswamp.blogspot.com/2022/06/deck-finished.html )

Back then, at first I couldn't get the lid off the stain, I tried using the spray gun that was in the barn but it sputtered and dripped, so I finally gave up and did the whole thing with a brush (hence, a lot of bending).  According to the can, a gallon should have been enough.  According to the wood on my deck soaking it up - it wasn't.  Then Lowe's didn't have anymore of that color, which was discontinued, so I had to buy a different color and do the entire deck again.  I did it in one day - which was hot and buggy, so I was tired and sweaty and sore and bug chewed.

Hence - I was not looking forward to doing it again.  But this year?  First - I bought enough stain (duh!) The lids are different now, and possible to easily open.  I broke the job down into two parts - yesterday I painted the front steps and the railings, which was the fussy part.  Today I used a paint pad on a long handle, and did the rest of the deck in a little over an hour.

But, of course, things get added onto the things-to-do list.  I have most of a gallon of stain left over - and the two small decks at the cottage really could use it.  I'd have to pressure wash them first, then stain.  Also, even though I pressure washed the front of the house when I cleaned the deck, it's still mildew stained and I really should repaint it.

I've lost my procrastination excuse - that the hardware store is out of the way, and I'll get whatever I need if I'm ever near it.  But I've started going to a new chiropractor recently - and his office practically shares a parking lot with Home Depot.  There goes that excuse.

So as soon as the deck dries (because I can't go outside until it does - lack of back door on this house) I'll go to the barn and really hope I can find that paint sample with the color formula on it.  Which means that I'll probably end up cleaning up the paint supply area of the barn.  It's loaded with bent rusty roller holders and brushes stiff with dried paint.  And a lot of cans of likely dried paint.  Sigh.

And just to be able to put in a picture (and because I'm fascinated with it) here's my latest X-ray.  I've started seeing a new chiropractor lately, having not taken care of my back for the last few years.  I had been going to a chiropractor that was on the way to see my father - but after Dad died, it was, obviously, no longer on the way.
But I would go get cracked whenever we were running errands in town.

And there's the thing.  It would be a "we" thing.  We'd run errands, then he'd wait for me to get adjusted (which doesn't take long) and maybe go to Zaxby's next  door for a milkshake afterwards.  The one time I went after I lost Bob, I came out, somehow still expecting to see him waiting for me, and it was just too hard to handle.  Sometimes it's just easier to go somewhere else.

So here I am - not quite Richard III, but pretty funky.

Now It Be November

 I always felt that it was appropriate for Halloween to be the end of the year.  Maybe it's the ancestral memory of the harvest coming in, and winter on the way.

A couple of pictures to start.  I wrote of the eagle who hit me.  We're at the stage of gauging her before we go in to clean.  If she's up in her tree - even if she's screaming - it's OK to go in, just keep an eye on her.  If she's at the gate, attacking you through it - obviously discretion is the better part of valor, and cleaning will have to wait until later.

And a picture of Mabel the barred owl, just because it was a chilly morning and she was looking round and puffy and adorable.

Halloween happened, as it often does this time of year.  I had a bit of an odd family visit.  Amanda is really into Halloween, and I thought they might like to come up for the Terror of Tallahassee, a quite good haunted house.  They decided to bring up their camper for the weekend; Don and Della thought they would come too (they also have an RV)

I haven't seen Robert, Amanda, and Zeke for almost a year.  Amanda's work schedule is all over the place, and Zeke, now 10 years old, has all manners of extracurricular activities.  I haven't seen Della and Don for even longer.  When they used to come visit on a more regular basis, we'd go out and do something - maybe go to my museum, or the ComicCon, or the saltwater fish store.  So I had some suggestions as to stuff we might do on Saturday before going to dinner and the Terror.  I had also asked Don if he would like to come look through the barn to see if there were any tools or supplies he might like to have before I start cleaning stuff out.

The odd part started Friday night.  I got a call from Robert around 6, saying they were in and set up and Don was firing up the grill for hamburgers.  "Do you want to bother to come visit tonight, or just wait until tomorrow?"   I can see making that offer if to get there was my usual drive-across-town, but the RV campground is less than 10 minutes from my house.  I opted to go join them.

We had our hamburgers.  The campgrounds are on a lake; Zeke and I went out to try skipping stones (in which we failed - the only pebbles we could find were round rather than flat).  We came back to sit around the fire pit, and then socialized the way people do in the 21st century:  everyone pulled out their phones and started scrolling.  Eventually I wandered back home.

Don and Robert came to the house the next day.  Della and Zeke opted to stay at the campground, and Amanda decided to go back to sleep (she had been sick lately).  The guys looked around, decided there was nothing they needed, and then headed back with a "we're just going to hang around the campground today - see you this evening."  All right, then.

So I went back in the late afternoon, we went out to dinner and the Terror, came back to skip a few more stones, makes some s'mores, and take a flashlight to the lake to look at alligator eyes shining.  The lake was beautiful in the full moon.

And then I came home.  They left the next morning.  It was just sort of a strange non-visit visit.

My other Halloween thing was an event at the Goodwood Plantation.  They had advertised that they were doing a free event on Sunday afternoon - and did any organizations, vendors, or artists want to come participate.  I offered to come walk around with my dragon.  I'm glad I did, because they had a large turnout of people, but not of the wished-for organizations or artists, so the lines for the few things were fairly long.  But my dragon kept them entertained.  Of course, it had to be one of the hot October days so it was pretty uncomfortable, but otherwise fun.  I don't get too many chances to take the dragon out.

Since then, the weather can't decide what it's doing.  We might have a high of 62 one day, and 86 the next.  But it's dry, so it's comfortable, and I'm suddenly filled with the urge to be working outside.  I've taken a load of stuff out of the barn; I've worked some more on the chicken coop; I've mowed, and hacked away at underbrush.  I'm sort of all over the place.  This afternoon I decided that it was finally time to re-stain my deck.

The deck is one of those things, where you do something on the things-to-do list and all it does is add something else.  The deck was starting to get a little slippery again, so on the list was "power wash deck."  Which I did.  And it ended up looking like this.

Hard to tell in the picture - but that's a lot of bare wood.  So "put more Thompson's water seal down" went on the list.  I remembered from last time that painting the railing and steps took as long or longer than the deck itself, so that's what I did today and I'll do the deck itself tomorrow. Of course, that means painting myself into the house and then having to stay in for a few hours until it dries.  That's part of the weirdness of having only one entrance to the house.

It's good to keep busy, and tire myself out.  I love the cooler and drier weather, where I feel I can work without collapsing, but the downside is that on the chillier evenings it's very hard to go to bed.  I can't help but remember, as I crawl into the chilly sheets, what it was like to have the warmth and solidity of Bob to snuggle up to.  So best if I'm worn out and just need to crash.