Keep on the Sunny Side

That title has nothing to do with anything, except that it's something I always try to do.  I could give you a link to the Carter Family singing the song, but everybody is familiar with it.  

The past two days Cliff and I noticed our arthritis acting up more than usual.  Yesterday we gave in and each took a couple of Tylenols and felt much better.  I put straw down in the garden, threaded a soaker hose through the tomato cages and around the herbs, pepper plants, and cucumbers.  I've been in a fit of pulling weeds out of the flower beds the like of which you've probably never seen:  You see, for four years I was babysitting our little Cora; I've never been a high-energy person, so while she was here I used all my energy on her... because she IS a high-energy person.  She liked to help, which is great, and I let her help in a lot of ways.  But weeding the flowerbeds wasn't something she was exactly skilled at because she lacked the knowledge to differentiate between weeds and vegetable plants.  Besides, as I said before, my energy was pretty much drained with babysitting her.  This year I felt it was time to manage a few things outside, things I've let go.

First I'll share a picture of the baby bluebirds.  Usually when I peek in to check on the babies, the parents have acted as though they want to dive-bomb me, but I think they are getting used to me now.  The mother flew overhead, but wasn't scolding me.  This bunch doesn't instantly open their collective beaks and peep when I lift the side door of their house.  It worries me a little, because I can't help but wonder if they're OK.  But they're alive and growing.  The Internet tells me they remain in the nest for almost three weeks.  

That's my chair on the back porch, but I never use it these days because it's pretty much upholstered with Mama Kitty's white hair.  I will eventually clean it off, and try to remember to turn it upside down when I'm through with it.  Because I really need my chair.

On another topic, Gabe is now the perfect dog.  He never fails to come when I call him, so he spends lots of time outside sniffing, tracking, chasing cats and bluejays... you know, the things that make life worth living for a dog.  And since he IS so great now, I decided to look for affordable Schnauzer puppies online.  The only "reasonably-priced" Schnauzers were mixed breed.  One litter of them really looked like a purebred Schnauzer, though, quite a way out in Kansas.  I communicated with the people by email, asked some questions, and was about to talk to Cliff about it when I noticed their father was a mini-Aussie.  Yeah, a double-coated dog.  Remember, one of the things that caused me to get a Schnauzer was the non-shedding trait.  Those little puppies might inherit the Schnauzer's non-shedding coat, but they might also take after daddy.  Believe me, after my experiences with Sadie and Iris, I'm done with dog-hair in the house!

Then this morning I really saw the light:  A puppy means: going through the whole house-breaking ordeal again; feeding two dogs separately because Gabe is a pig; taking two dogs "bye-bye" when we decide to go somewhere a dog can go... and so it goes.  Besides, Gabe is an only child, and although I know he'd be fine with another dog, it would take him a while to adjust.  Then there's the cost of good dog food, and the money spent on grooming every two months or so.  Am I crazy?  I just now got Gabe to the point of being a perfect companion dog and I'm considering going through all the nuisance of a puppy again?  

Whew.  I'm glad I got through THAT crisis!

When Gabe reached one year of age, he was still squatting like a girl to pee.  The grandson thought it was because we had him neutered at a very young age, so I didn't think a lot about it.  But at some point when I had him on leash going through the grandson's yard, he'd pull on the leash heading toward a tree:  Lo and behold, he was peeing like a big dog!  I praised him like crazy, because he's a small dog and it's sorta cute.  I deliberately took him through the grandson's yard again, and he'd do it again, with me telling him what a big guy he was.  

Well, now he hikes his leg all the time.  On the car tires and tractor tires and vegetables and trees.  I even caught him peeing on the 1855 Oliver tires IN THE SHOP!!!  "I told you to get a female," Cliff said.  

Speaking of the 1855, Cliff has decided to use it to mow the pasture.  With that tractor and the big mower, it takes less time for him to mow the pasture than it does for Arick to mow our yard on his zero-turn mower.

And speaking of tractors:  Cliff decided to sell the Farmall Super C back around the first of April.  A guy from Lexington (I think) and his wife bought it for a price that actually made Cliff a profit, and were obviously thrilled to have it.  Well, Cliff went to talk to our local insurance guy, and he informed Cliff the guy had come to him and insured the tractor!  You don't hear of a lot of folks insuring an old tractor like that.  When they were getting ready to load it up, I asked if they wanted us to take the seat off that I sat on for parades, but they wanted it.  From what they said at the insurance office, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we were to see them in a parade with it one of these days.  

I really, really loved this particular tractor, but knowing they are so thrilled with it makes me feel better about its being gone.  I warned her to hang on, if she ever sat on that back seat.  Cliff took off fast during one parade and I came very close to falling off.  

Sincerely,
Donna