I dunno how long it’s been since I last posted. Six weeks …ish?
Obviously the move is a huge factor. Moving is a bitch. Always is. Moving with an obsessive neat-freak-pat-rack is excruciating. Trust me on this one, ‘cuz you don’t want to find out firsthand.
We’re getting little projects done, bit by bit. There is a temporary fence up, allowing our geriatric furbaby to prance off-leash in our back yard. There is a doggy door installed, which means he can come and go as he pleases, instead of barking at the door every few minutes. No, it’s not always to do business. He’s just a grouchy old mutt who likes puttering around outside, especially now the weather is magnificent.
We got the dripping bathtub faucet fixed, which had really become more the trickling bathtub faucet, and we feared was on its way to full-on geyser status.
This weekend we’re tentatively going to order the workshop. Once that’s delivered and setup, it will give G his hangout and get him out of my hair. (Oops! Did I type that out loud?) He’ll spend a good 2-3 months getting stuff organized because he’s OCD. I just want all the shit gone from the carport so I can park the car in the shade before summer hits again.
Tempting as it is to hope he’ll get all the other little projects done he’s promised to do, I know him. He’ll get around to most of them, eventually. The ones that matter the most to me will be the ones stuck in the dungeon of honey-dos. At least now I know what to expect, I won’t stress over it.
This is the time of year people actually want to be in Arizona. The weather is spectacular. Daytime temps no longer send the Devil scurrying back to Hell to cool off. We rarely get rain in the late fall and early winter, so it’s blue skies, maybe a smattering of light clouds. It does get cold overnight – we’re in the 30s nighttime – but days we hit the mid 60s to the low 70s. It’s glorious.
Unfortunately with a mix of psoriatic arthritis, asthma, killer allergies, and other assorted autoimmune issues, my body decided to up its ante lately. If there is a God, He/She holds a mean grudge against old people.
This year, G and I decided to forego the family holiday folderol. With all my kids, grandkids, SOs and their SOs’ assorted familial persons, a “small” gathering numbers over 30. If we ever all got together at the same time, we’d have to hire out Grand Central Station. Considering the shitstorm that is COVID-19, or whatever its iteration now, we chose not to risk it. As I told the kids: better to skip one holiday than this be our last holiday.
Same principle: The office party this year is a virtual one. I’m coordinating with the bosses on exactly that. (I manage our business website.)
I was going through old photos for a poetry-writing friend and ran across some shots I thought at the time were crappy. But dusting them off – while they’re not going to win any competitions – they’re not awful. When I first took this one I was disappointed. But you know what? I was hoping to grab something to highlight the gorgeous blue of his breast, and this doesn’t do it half bad.
The mountain photo up top is courtesy of the spousal unit. No filters used, just clean picture taking. I like Mr. Peacock, but I’m never going to be a blue-ribbon photographer.
As I’ve mentioned before, G isn’t a fan of turkey.
Turkey, emphatically no. Chicken, 100% yes.
Matter of fact, he loves cold chicken. One of his fantasies is a picnic with a basket of cold chicken and all the trimmings. We haven’t done it yet because – eh, life. If the weather holds, though, I’m hoping to surprise him this year. Assuming we don’t have another COVID shutdown, which is always a possibility. If that happens, I might still see if I can drum up a picnic table for the back yard – now that we have a back yard. As romantic as a blanket on the ground sounds, it doesn’t work if your joints snap, crackle, and pop more than Rice Krispies. Either there’s chairs, or there will be no picnic.
For Thanksgiving, we’re doing leg of lamb again. I bought another boneless leg – it’s a whole lot cheaper per pound that way. This year, however, I cut that monster up. It was nearly five pounds of lamb. Last time I bought a whole leg, we threw lamb out because we couldn’t eat it before it went bad. Throwing lamb out is criminal. By splitting it up, this will easily be enough for four stuff-ourselves meals, already divvied up in the freezer. (I trimmed away a lot of fat and gristle. After trimming, there was still a Hella lot of meat.)
A couple of more photos before I sign off.
Incidentally, both G and I agree we want to do another photo shoot. We might squeeze that in this weekend.
so good to hear your latest projects again. I loved the photos. It sounds like you are settling in very well. I hope the workshop is a huge success and G. loves puttering and finessing to his heart’s content.
Thanks, Terri. We’re glad to be moved. This weekend we have a few errands to run but are hoping to also get most of the remaining boxes unpacked.