wuthering round

The boxy bulk of RVs wound their way around the building. Keep right I said, in an effort to keep us from becoming lost in the off-gassing fiberglass and fabric. Some RVs marched in straight lines, while others circled around like chuckwagons pulled up for the night. Mighty hunks of fiberglass and aluminum lured us up their rickety steps to gasp at the interiors. Yes, it was the annual RV show, and we were there on Friday to waste some time, not to shop. It's a good thing we weren't shopping, as I didn't see anything I even remotely liked. Our villetta will serve us well for another year.

One change I did like is that many of the RVs have done away with carpet, and now have wood grain lino throughout, except for the bedroom. Carpet in the living space was always a problem when we camped at sandy or dirty sites. The manufacturers have finally realized that the campers are for CAMPING! Kitchens remained small, except for the larger campers that had room for islands - they had plenty of work space. Dark interiors still prevailed. I saw one class C that had a beautiful light wood for their cabinets (much like the coffee table in my parent's family room).

Thursday night we had Dave, Carm's old work friend, over for supper again. It is hard to see friends go through difficult times so we try to help out where we can. Dave is still grieving the loss of his wife a few years ago. Hold your loved ones close everybody - it can be pretty rough if you lose them...

Remember the other day when I said I had the very beginnings of hypomania? Well, a hot bath with some herbal tea, quiet music, extra meds, and close attention to my thoughts put me on the right road again, although I still find I have to be vigilant. Every day I learn more about what I have to do to keep myself well - the tiniest change bears attention.

I've given the dogs big hunks of bone the last few nights. They get locked in their crates to keep the bloody things contained. Spike pokes it a few times then sits looking at the crate door talking and whining and carrying on as if he were in dire straits, punctuated by long mournful silences. Eventually I gave in and let him out, scooping up the bone and putting it away. Then he walked around from Bella's crate to Kabira's talking and whimpering. What a pain in the @$$ he is! I know that if I were to let him have the bone outside his crate he would probably take it up onto the loveseat... or worst of all, hide it behind the bed pillows in the spare bedroom. He actually did that once with a pig's ear and it is only because he was suspicious that someone would find it and kept looking to make sure it is safe, that I found it.

The wind is blowing a gale today, wuthering round the house and through the trees, whipping their limbs into a frenzy of activity. I can see snow gales dancing across the fields in white pirouettes, surely collapsing on the roads in treacherous drifts.

"Listen to th' wind wutherin' round the house," she said. "You could bare stand up on the moor if you was out on it tonight."
Mary did not know what "wutherin'" meant until she listened, and then she understood. It must mean that hollow shuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round the house, as if the giant no one could see were buffeting it and beating at the walls and windows to try to break in. But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it made one feel very safe and warm inside a room with a red coal fire.”
~Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Kabira's icy birthday

The worst of the ice storm seemed to centre on us for much of the late afternoon and evening, the temperature finally easing up above zero near midnight. Rain came down and washed the icicles out… By the time I got up this morning the trees were almost free of their icy armour and clunks of ice were melting off the house and trailer. We had no power outage - the un-needed buckets of water distributed around the house were dumped at noon with a sigh of relief.

Being on a well, we need electricity to run our water pump, unlike city dwellers who usually still have water when the power goes out. It’s only when you’ve been without water do you realize how useful it is! Just a simple thing like flushing the toilet is a luxury when you only have one spare bucket.

It started yesterday, a frizzing of my nerves as if they were being sparked by electricity. Images from violent movies and shows ran through my head causing my nerves to jangle even more. They were sparking on a razor's edge. I couldn't get to sleep. When I eventually did, I woke up a few hours later and laid there for hours, till it finally dawned on me that I needed some chemical help. That tiny brown pill helped me to go to sleep, but now, 12 hours later, I'm back in the same boat, skirting the edges of hypomania; not the good kind where I zoom around getting all sorts of things done, it’s the bad kind where I’m irritable and angry and can’t settle down, but don’t get anything productive done.

Why? Could it be the several nights of restless sleep I've had due to this darn cough? Or too many things on the go? Or not enough on the go?

What to do? I can't settle down for a nap. I tried reading. I picked up Jon Katz 'Dancing Dogs', thinking that a book of dogish short stories would be calming and fun - the first story was about a woman going through the death of her dog. Oh good. That did NOT help! I think I'll try E.B. White's 'Charlotte's Web', although I don't think it has a happy ending… maybe a herbal tea will soothe my frazzled nerves. (if only it were that easy)

I almost forgot that it was today, but here it is, Kabira's 10th birthday!

wind lashing icy rain

Freezing rain is battering the east windows, the blustering wind driving it hard against the glass. It is not a day to be on the roads unless you absolutely have to, and luckily we don't need to go anywhere. I have a hot tea on the table beside me, and a book lays beside it.

We got up early this morning to make our first batch of campground reservations. Hurray - our camps for Sept and Oct are solidified. Yet to come is a try at Presquile. I've never been considered spontaneous and retirement hasn't changed me in any notable way, so I'm happy to have plans made at this time of year.

Gosh, the wind has picked up and the rain is now bucketing down in torrents.

For the last few months we have been doing the dogs nails with the dremel rather than clippers. Unfortunately, I don't keep at them on a regular basis, so it is a constant struggle to keep them from clacking. The dogs hate it. Here's what I wrote about it in my writing practice:

" Three pairs of glowing eyes gleamed in the dim light under the desk. The items on top of the desk shook with the vibrations from the huddling dogs beneath it. I reached my hand in and brought out the first victim. Spike backed up frantically, trying to get out of his collar so he could make an escape. I scooped him up in my arms and carried him to the altar. The soft mattress and smooth sheets of the futon cradled his trembling body as I tipped him onto his side.

Carm joined the attack and gripped Spike's limbs in his hands. The dremel flicked on and the sound of buzzing filled the air, drowning out any verbal protests by the small dog. Foot by foot, nail by nail, slowly his nails were trimmed back until they would no longer make the dreaded click, clack on the wood floors.

Finished! And the little dog jumps off and runs away ecstatic at having made it out alive.

Bella is nearby, maybe she figures getting it over with is better than the awful anticipation. Or maybe it was an accident, one she'll be sure to guard against in the future. I grab her collar and walk her over. She jumps onto the futon and I lay her on her side. Carm sits down beside her and grips her legs. I get to work, shortening and sculpting each nail, hoping to get them short enough that they don't hit the floor. Jerk, her foot nearly pulls out of my hand. A small drop of blood on her nail tells me why. She struggles to get away, but Carm is too strong. Foot by foot, nail by nail, slowly her nails are ground back. The simple word "ok" has her jumping off the futon and dancing for joy.

Kabira. Hum. I wonder where she is? A quick glance around doesn't yield a result so I start looking more carefully. She's still under the desk, shaking like a leaf and looking out at me, hoping I can't see her. Gently, I take her collar and ease her out and over to the gallows. With a little encouragement she jumps up and of her own volition lies on her side, her legs sticking out. She cries a bit and I feel like a cruel overlord, but get to work anyway. Carm has her pinned so her flailing legs don't knock me in the face. Foot by foot, nail by nail, slowly her nails are trimmed back in the vain hope that she won't clack. It's no use, I let them get too long months ago and the progress to get them short again is painfully slow.

With glee she jumps off the futon and dances over to the fridge where a special treat awaits all three. "