Tidbits

Time flew by since my last post, so I thought I'd spend a few moments to catch up on the non-events of the last few days:

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It might be mid-November, but the grass was still thick and green when we had our first frost this past Wednesday. Post-frost, it's begun to turn brown, which means the annual muddy-paw season will soon follow.

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Clouds to the left of me...


...soakers to the right...

When I saw these clouds yesterday morning, I thought we'd have some rain, but so far it's stayed dry -- and warmed up again, too.

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The people around here are having difficulty deciding what season it is, but our coterie of pea-sized snails believes the weather is perfect for a rally. In years past, the snails have mostly remained hidden near the roots of Winter's brown grass, where we don't see them unless they catch a ride on one of our dogs. This year, though, there are bunches of them on the patio right outside the backdoor, so many that quite a few of them have succumbed to a slimy death under the heels of a rushing human or animal.

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Butch is halfway through his high-powered antibiotics, and I don't see much improvement in what we sympathetically refer to as his "hurtie-heinie." He isn't due to go back to the vet until at least Tuesday, no later than Friday, so I hope we don't have a problem working him in around the Thanksgiving holidays.

I didn't mention in my last post that he's also getting treatment for another in a continuing series of yeast infections in both ears. He must have had at least ten ear infections in the nine years of his lifetime, and nobody has been able to explain why. The vet last week said it's "just very common" at this time of year. Because of his blindness, I feel very protective of his hearing and wish we could find a satisfactory way to prevent the recurrent ear problems.

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One more good book suggestion for the avid readers among you:
The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak. I loved this story. All the way through it I thought about my German-born stepmother, who has recounted her own fascinating stories about running from bombs and spending hours in basement shelters.

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This afternoon I switched media and watched a movie that I also loved and recommend, one with the simple title of Bobby. It has a large cast of fine actors portraying hotel workers and guests whose stories converged when Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1968.

If you're old enough to remember 1968, you'll recognize the hairstyles and enjoy the fashion, but what will really get to you is the reminder of how hopeful we all were back then. And whether or not you were around in 1968, you'll be moved when you realize the similarities between key issues then and now.

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Yajeev, bless his heart, with one single post has provided me with not one but two blogging opportunities for next week. I keep a running list of things to write about "someday," but some of them are off-the-wall stories that would seem weird to post in the absence of a specific context. Yajeev's post flows naturally because it's current, tying in as it does to his co-worker's continued state of weirdness, so if I piggyback off of his post, maybe my own stories will seem relevant. Thanks for the segue, Yajeev.

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Except for a couple of hours tomorrow morning, I'm off work until the Monday after Thanksgiving. That time off will go very near the top of next week's gratitude list, right after my family, my dogs, and you, of course, dear readers.