Kicking off a three day weekend...

Recuperation has allowed me time to sit in the garden and consider what work needs to be done. Pruning the trees, an ongoing task, seemed most pressing to me. And we (well...I ) have been nothing but slothful the past few days.

We have been just watching a lot of movies lately; Greenfingers (a great Helen Mirren flick) Charlie Wilson's War (Houston story, eye crossing to know what happened back in the '80 to get us where we are today with Afghanistan) PS: I Love You (nice, but I didn't cry) and Bagger Vance (again..if you love hats, you really, really must see this flick.) I even watched a truly weird Bollywood film based on a Russian novel....hoo boy.

This morning Bernie suggested that we do tree trimming on Monday so the clippings could go out with the trash on Wednesday.

He was thinking right with that, but I was raring to make the trees look like I had envisioned, so I headed out. He and Laura followed, and took charge of the tools that were needed to make the changes needed.

I wanted all the branches that were over their head GONE. With the branches gone, it would be possible to see our neighbors lovely tree that turns yellow in the fall, and the pink flowering and blue flowering trees in their yard as well.

It is called "borrowing" landscaping.

It was so hot and steamy out that the camera kept fogging up.

Naturally Tiggie joined in. He is very fond of playing "sticks" and there sure were a lot being created here.
I accidental stepped on his tail at one point. He yowled, gave me an offended look, then settled right back into the action. Bernie found it quite challenging to drop large branches without hitting the cat.

See? Doesn't that look a lot better? Same view as the first shot....
(Notice the Faithful Orange Cat is still on duty.)

We cleared out a tree that was growing almost parallel to the ground. We had stalled on removing it because it always held one of our big bird feeders. We'll replace it with one like the one pictured above, and hang it from a shepherd's crook.

Clearing the branches out should also allow more sunlight to fall on our back lawn area. It has basically died from lack of sunlight. Strangely thought, a volunteer sunflower has bloomed in the most shaded part of the garden.

I'm thinking of scattering more sunflower seeds; the one flower looks so cheery!

I've still got to replant the garden bed. The last few years I've planted coleus; this year I have loads of volunteers. Wouldn't you know it, this year I have a hankering to plant inpatients.

For some reason this year NONE of the local nurseries are carrying inpatients!

I am getting really impatient for impatients!

After four hours of work, we were all sweaty and ready to retreat inside for a nice bison burger cooked on the barbecue (sooo much yummier than beef...) and some mango lassi (yogurt, ice, sugar and mango drink, very refreshing) and we plan to wile the rest of the day away watching a few more flicks.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?

Tell me about it.

It has to be more interesting than what we are doing.

I am amazed to think that this time last year I was in Switzerland; what a difference year this is!

Guest Blogger Tiggie

I got my African violets trimmed and watered yesterday. AND I made dinner: Egg salad sandwiches. On white bread.

Being on a low residue diet is so weird: all those crunchy whole grain healthy high fiber items that I have always included in my diet are off limits for now. Angel food cake, white bread, rice and noodles are required instead. Weird. This will likely be changed big time in a week or so, but for now white flour reigns.

Other household members are telling me that poultry is a necessary addition to their diet. Poultry as in the feathered babies that flicker between our tree branches and bird feeders. We are not buying into this at all.

Since I am still in low speed, I'm going to let our orange cat Tiggie, (AKA "Harper Lee", am I the only one who gets this joke?) of Tiggie FOC blog here today. As we all know, he is a cat with a lot to say. So I'm going to just let him say it today and head on back to bed.

I saw Hart loafing on the bench outside yesterday. He looked like someone had let the air out of him.

He is a great hunter, but pretty lax on keeping up with his outside snoopervising duties.

Hart is way too involved in baby bird catching. It just about wears him out racing up and leaping to the bird feeder, then running when Bernie knocks on the window and yells.

Baby birds are too easy; they sit near us and look at us like they don't know what we are. They learn though...

I personally caught a Carolina wren and brought it in to show Bernie. He was ticked off, and took the bird away from me. The dumb wren now sits on the patio chair and smirks at us.

I wasn't going to hurt it or anything; I just wanted to show Bernie that I could catch a bird if I wanted to.

I got going on my rounds..,..everything was just fine. The raccoons had stopped by and left some trash behind, but that isn't my problem.

I am allowed to hunt snakes though. Inside snakes. Ones that are knitted by Grandma, and have 'nip and crinkles and bells inside.

Man can those things fight.

I have to re-kill them every day.

Another Tiggie-Snake trophy shot.

It is a lot of work killing snakes. I always work up a bit of sweat, and my fur gets all tangled up. A nice long bath followed by a good nap makes for the perfect ending to a successful hunt.

Name That Gator

I must be doing better. Even though I am still inclined to afternoon naps from which I awaken convinced I still have an IV in my hand and side rails on my bed, small bits of grey matter are re-awakening. Part of this sleepiness is normal recovery from being sick and sleep deprived. It doesn't help that I have not had a cup of caffeinated anything for a week and half now either.

I dream of Carl Larsson paintings, which is a very pleasant thing, and consider the garden which is heavily shaded, leafed about with bushes and trees that need trimming. The temperature soars in the afternoon and I sit outside until I am warm through and through, then retreat once again to the cool interior to sip fluids and nap again.

This morning I awoke and knew the gator's name. The yet unnamed gator who slid into the oil smeared waters that are rapidly filling the Daisetta sinkhole. I could picture him in his private green swimming hole, and hoped that he was happily still splashing about.

I think his name must be "Slick."

They say I will go home today....

Whew, I never thought I'd be in the hospital for eight days with this. Today I am feeling much better. I actually got an amazing eight hours of sleep last night, uninterrupted by vigilant medical personnel.

The GI doctor said I can safely go home now. We are just waiting for the attending physician (a lung guy...go figure) to drop by and sign my release form. He could show up in the next two minutes or in four hours from now. Who knows. Doctor's rounds have their own mysterious rhythms around here. (Update: I finally got to go home at nine pm Sunday night. Hurrah!)

So we wait, read the Sunday paper, think about how today is much better than last Sunday, and are so thankful for all who prayed for my healing and the people who worked hard to care for me.

There has been no definitive label given to what has been going on with me. A scope of my colon in a few weeks will be needed. Meantime I'll just keep taking antibiotics and protonixs and eating food that is low in sediment. Please pass me the yogurt and buttermilk; aren't I just the luckiest person around... I actually like buttermilk anyway!

They say that laughter is the best medicine. I got a healthy dose yesterday when the local newspaper published the next chapter in the Diasetta Sinkhole story. The news...I laughed so hard I almost fell off the bed.


It seems a seven foot long alligator has been swept into the rapidly filling sinkhole. A "yet unnamed" alligator.

People who were working on dismantling "storage sheds that were teetering on the edge of the crater" (huh? how nuts is that?) saw the gator swimming thirty feet down from the edge of the sinkhole. Water has begun to fill the hole, water both from below the earth and from the surrounding swampy land. An alligator infested swampy land.

Naturally this concerns some people.

The water is highly contaminated with oil. Prepare yourself: the gator may get oil on his skin and eyes. And of course some folk want to see the gator "rescued."

Yeah, right. Ain't gonna happen.

The locals have been willing to admit that they have been sneaking out to the edge of the sinkhole to see the gator swimming in his own private pool. One nineteen year old woman even let the press use her name as she talked about doing such a thing.

Wonder what Bishop will be doing to her? Sure do hope she isn't packing a parasol when he catches up with her.

I can not imagine why the locals are even bothering taking a look-see. One old guy (age 74 according to the article) noted that they had a nine foot gator living right behind an old gas plant in town. Workers used to huck the the gator their left over sandwiches.

Anyway, I figure everyone needs both a laugh and something to think about. Even though there are plenty of unnamed gators around, apparently the sinkhole gator now needs a proper handle. A name to match his fame in these otherwise troubling times.

A few years back it was discovered that an alligator was living in a pond in a park in San Francisco. The local newspaper held a contest to name the critter.

You can guess the name that won, right?

It was a natural; of course he was the GOLDEN Gator.

I'm thinking hard about what they should name the Sinkhole gator. I asked my nurse Eva what name she would give the gator. Without a moment hesitation, she shot back:

"In Louisiana, they'd call him 'Dinner.''

Gal Pal Gail pointed out that since he is already swimming in oil, all they need to do is drop a match and we could have fried gator ready in a jiffy.

It must be all the meds that are slowing down my thought processes. There must be a great name for this beast. Your suggestions are needed. Like I said earlier, laughter is the best medicine. So go ahead...take your best shot at naming this critter.
If you make me laugh your payoff will be knowing you have done your part in helping this sick person feel better.