Deserter...

Went out for the dawn run with wee Willie. As is my compulsion I made my bed before leaving. Wore a loud orange tee, it's dove season in the back of beyond.  It was still fairly early when we got back.  I had made coffee in my trusty French press before I left the house, so off to the kitchen to get a cuppa, and do some admiring on my kitchen cabinets remodel from the day before. 

It had been a battle to keep Dad from doing it. I had erred by telling him I was going to reverse the way a couple of the cabinets opened. (Who ever the carpenter was that put in the cabinets when mom & dad built this house never had to function in a kitchen.) Turned my back and there Dad was (with my drill mind you) getting ready to climb on a step ladder. "Oh Heck No!  You can supervise to your heart's content, but I'm doing it."  Worked out well, and this morning Dad had positioned himself so that when the home helper came he had a ring side seat to watch her practically rip off the doors trying to open them from the now wrong side...

Got back to my room, which is a work in progress for sure. (Seriously, who the hell puts white carpet throughout a house in RED Bluff) Looked around for Willie, no dog. Searched through the house, no dog. Checked outside, no dog. Damn, I know I'm a bit cranky from lack of sleep but to have my dog desert me...

What's your Quirk?

We had YeeHaw weather today.  Much cooler than the upper 90's we have been having, with beautiful white clouds in a blue blue sky this morning.Perfect morning run/walk/jog weather.

Willie does not like to leave the house at early early to run up & down hills thru the oaks. I don't quite get why that is, but then about a mile out he sorta wakes up.

Willie trying to sleep in

He also gets cranky that I boot him out of bed so I can make the bed before we leave.
Where the "must make the bed" before leaving the house quirk comes from I'm not sure.  I had hoped that my immediate family would let this & a few other quirks go unnoticed all these years, and they have.  But, a first cousin stopped by the other day and one of the first things she said was... "When I was little I always loved to stay with you, because you always slept with the windows open and one foot outside the covers, and you always made the bed first thing..."  

"ah well,"  I said, "I still do."

I didn't tell her that when I was going through a teenage rough patch, I spent six months sleeping on the floor beside my perfectly made bed.  I think it had something to do with rebellion that my bed had to be made just so to pass mother's inspection, or maybe I was just too lazy to make it to mother's standards.  lol, I can't remember why I finally decided it was a heck of a lot more comfortable sleeping in a bed.  
Though the "have to make my bed" has remained with me, it does  not  appear  to   be  gene related because none of my kids or grandkids have this quirk.    

Face-Plant...

Yesterday was absolutely beautiful here. Sun out, cotton candy clouds drifting across a blue blue sky.  You could hear the grass growing, at least I think it was the grass, couldn't have been a running ol granny's thighs...

Today it's overcast, and a little chilly.  We are supposed to get back up into the 70's this weekend.  YeeHaw! Let the veggie planting begin. There are about 50 baby Japanese maples to be transplanted as well as some started cuttings to pot up.

***

Went by and picked up one of Dad's shotguns from the gunny hospital.  Smithy has tried everything he can think of to make it fire correctly, and  finally recommended sending it back to the manufacturer.  Got it home and Dad says "that damn thing never has shot right." Ok, that would have been nice to know before we spent a morning on the range with it.  I have a sneaking suspicion that Dad was trying to even up the playing field between the guys and I...

***

 

I purchased some new sneeks, and in my early morning excitement to get out the door and running in them, I forgot to corral the ol girls.  Damn, that is uncomfortable.  Try running with your arms across your chest.  Thankfully no one else was out at the same time, because if I had tried to wave I would have sure as shoot'n done a face-plant...

Slightly bent, not broken...

It has been storm'n here, and we are getting some much needed rain. Grass is growing, reservoirs are slowly filling, but the clay soil is too wet to plant the veggie garden. If it weren't clay I would be out there planting, cheap therapy...  

Willie and I have been running in the rain, which is fine by me, not so much by Willie.  He has turned into Dad's lap dog. I think the dog biscuit jar by Dad's chair, and scraps from Dad's dinner plate have something to do with it.  Dad has started calling him with... "how's My Dog doing?" and "I'm going to turn My Dog loose on the neighbors darn cats, right after we take a nap."

An early morning run helps clear out a lot of the stuff that has gone on before and since I got back from the girls trip to LV.  It was wonderful to have a few days with the girls, not so much to come back to another !@#$ storm, that again seems to be widely advertised as my fault.  There has been a huge contest going on with mother leading the pack, to see just how many family, friends of mother's, attorneys, and assorted others it's going to take to break me in little pieces. Thankfully the hospice nurse and social worker totally get it, so they  hugged me and wished me luck as they sprinted out the door.

I try to use a little common sense, so I've found that if it's raining too hard to run safely,  another source of mental health balance is to set on top the dog house (in the covered kennel) with a neat scotch and a cigar and listen to the rain...  
The pack seem to have forgotten that I was taught survival skills early on by my late MIL, as she knew I would need them. Bless her. 
I know there will again be sunshine.  Slightly bent, not broken...