Peoples

           We will call our visit this week Peoples. Do you know why? I bet’cha can’t guess. This week, while sorting through my pictures, I noticed an inordinate number of peoples. And not just any peoples but complete strangers peoples.

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          Our week started off with strong winds. I was hoping the suncatchers hanging from the front awning would make it through the night, but two of them succumbed.

          Throughout our area trees came down and some people were without power but we never lost ours. All in all, other than a few branches and the afore mentioned suncatchers, we came through it pretty good.

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          I told you last time that Miss Rosie sent me up some Pumpkin Dump Cake. Enough for two people but eaten by just one in this household.

          Now I had a bowl to return.

          I decided not to return it empty.

          Miss Rosie loves lemon. I’d made Lemon Meltaways before and she really liked them. Lemon Meltaways it was! I dug out the recipe and made a batch — which amounted to 32 cookies.

          “And there’s only half a cup of powdered sugar in the cookies,” I told Rosie and Lamar when I delivered them. “So, I rolled them in powdered sugar to make up for it.”

          Lamar laughed. “That a girl!”

          Not all of the cookies made it to the Kipp house. I had to taste them to make sure they were okay. I ate two. Mike, who proudly and loudly declares he eats no sugar, ate… hmmm… about four of them I think — but don’t tell him I told you! I never call him on it when he eats something with sugar in it.

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          Mike is friends with a couple of the guys from the hunting club down the hill from us. He’ll help them out from time to time when they need it — as Mike would do for any of our neighbors. And a couple of the guys will stop here from time to time to visit.

          One of the guys, this guy, is Art. He especially likes to stop and visit with us and will stop several times while he’s up here at the cabin.

          Art’s gotten in the habit of bringing me a gift.

          “He really likes you!” Mike teases.

          I don’t know how or why Art got in the habit of doing it, but I’ll never refuse when someone wants to give me a gift.

          Usually he’ll bring me a sweet. Boston Cream Pie, Coconut Cream Pie, a Danish. I don’t need to eat a whole pie or cake or Danish, and we both know Mike doesn’t eat sweets, so I usually end up sharing it with the Kipps.

          They don’t seem to mind, bless their hearts.

But this last time Art brought me flowers. Two bouquets!

“Art!” I exclaimed. “One’s enough!” I shoved a bouquet back at him. “Why don’t you take the other one home for your wife?”

          “No, no. I take her flowers all the time. Those are for you so you can arrange them.”

          I held them to my nose and sniffed. They don’t smell like flowers. They don’t smell like anything at all. Why is that? Why don’t greenhouse flowers have a scent?

          Despite their lack of smell, I’ve been enjoying their beauty all week long.

>>>*<<<

          Our temps have been in the 70’s and fabulous for the last couple of days and are projected to be this way for a few more.

          “Let’s finish our winterizing while it’s nice out,” Mike said.

We covered the eave vents in the house.

          Tiger heard us and came to the closet window.

          Can you see him there, camouflaged in the reflections?

          Then we moved on to the rhododendrons. They have to be covered with burlap to protect them from the harsh winter winds that’ll suck the life from young rhodies. We lost four of them because we didn’t know that was something we had to do.

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          Face masks.

          I really like making face masks. I’ve learned the pattern and seldom mess up anymore. Making the same thing over and over would be torture for some people but I seem to thrive on the repetition. I think that’s why I was so good at my factory job. It didn’t bother me to stand and tap 3,000 brackets an hour for eight hours, or bend frames all day in one of those big ole honkin’ punch presses.

But who — besides Miss Rosie — needs 50 face masks! And only because she likes to match whatever she’s wearing.

          “I should try to sell a few,” I told my peeps in my morning Love Note. What I should’ve done was check into it before I said anything. There’s a glut of face masks all over the internet. I’m not going to get in on that fracas. Instead, I’ll be content making for friends and family.

          Miss Rosie has never once complained about the patterns I’ve been picking.

          “I found another one for Christmas,” I told her on a recent visit. Even though I’ve already made at least two Christmas patterns. “And one for Valentines and one that I think’ll work for the Fourth of July.”
          “They’re pretty,” she said.

          “And look at this one,” I said showing a teal and gray butterfly pattern. “Did you know you can get a fat quarter at Walmart for ninety-seven cents?”

          They didn’t have such a thing as fat quarters when Miss Rosie was sewing. “What’s a fat quarter?” she wanted to know.

          I opened one up and showed it to her. A fat quarter of fabric is a one-fourth yard and usually measures 18" x 22". But not all fabric is the same width and I think my fat quarters are only 18” x 21”.

          “The next time you go to Walmart why don’t you pick out a couple of fat quarters,” I suggested.

          A few days later they came in on their morning walk carrying a package. I knew she’d shopped the day before. “Did you find something you liked?” I asked.

          “It was harder to find the fat quarters than picking out a pattern. I liked a lot of them. I picked out so many I had to put some back.”

          She was delighted with the choice in patterns.

          And I’m delighted to have some new patterns to sew.

          Out of a fat quarter I can get three or four face masks, depending on the pattern. And that’s not a complete face mask. That’s one side. Since I like to make my masks reversible, I usually use a contrasting color for the other side.

          Another thing I like to make face masks from is scrubs. They come in all kinds of patterns and most are made from the right kind of material. I can make a lot of masks from a top. Plus, I can get them at the second-hand store for a buck and a half each.

          Mike’s tractor tire had a slow leak in it and he decided to have it fixed. We took it over to Wysox. They never fix your tire while you wait, even if you have to drive sixteen miles to get there!

          “I’ll put it in line,” the tech told Mike.

          “I have to be in town for a while, can you call when it’s fixed?” Mike asked.

          “Sure thing,” he agreed.

          Mike left the tire and we went to do a couple of errands.

          “Hey, did you see that old red car?” I asked Mike when we drove past Beers.

          “Nuh-uh.”

          “I think it’s one of them cars that you like.” I’m not good with cars. I’ll tell you that right now. “You know, like the one we used to have.”

          Mike went around the block to do a drive by. “That’s a Ford Falcon,” he informed me.

          Oh well. We never had one of those. I told you I’m not so good with cars.

          We went to my Rainbow Thrift store next. It happened to be Thursday which happens to be BOGO day. That’s buy one get one free day. Although it should be BOGOF. That means the scrubs I like to make face masks out of only cost me seventy-five cents! What a deal! What a deal!

           We went through the McDonalds drive-thru for lunch, then drove over to the shopping center to park in an out-of-the-way place.

          We watched these guys while we ate.

          “Are they taking down the Gordman’s sign,” I asked. “I think they just went out of business.”

          “I think Gordman’s was down farther,” Mike answered.

          As my eyes drifted over the scene, I spot sign stuff. “Those look like they could be letters sitting there,” I pointed out.

          Mike was really hoping his tire would be done before we left town so we sat and watched for a while. People were coming and going from the store.

          “It must be open,” I said.

          A lady walked past the store, then past us.

          “Excuse me,” Mike called. “Do you know what’s going in there?”

          “It’s a discount store. They have really good deals. I got my grandson a forty-nine-dollar hoodie for twelve bucks.” She told us the brand name but I don’t remember anymore. “You should go in and check it out.”

          We weren’t in any hurry so we did a walk through. The sign on the door says its name is Label Shopper and they had mostly clothes. I don’t need any clothes so we didn’t spend much time looking around.

Jack William’s didn’t call saying Mike’s tire was done so we head for home. Itsy had a vet appointment the next day so it wouldn’t be inconvenient to swing past and get the tire then anyway.

          “Let’s take River Road home,” I suggested. “I can make pictures for my blog.”

          We did a nice leisurely ride down River Road and if a car (or truck) came up behind us, Mike pulled over.

          Who doesn’t like toilet yard art?

          This must be the Gordon’s cemetery. Almost every headstone had that name on it.

           Farther down the road is the Stevens’. Not everyone in here was a Stevens but a lot of them were.

          Like I said, we were just poking along. I watched as this man came gimping across his yard dragging the dog’s tie-out. I wondered what he was up to because the dog was laying there by the corner of the house. The man looked up at me and I smiled and waved. He smiled back so I took his picture. He looks like the kind of man you could sit and talk to for a while.

          Two views, two different cameras, same barn. Which one do you like better? Trying to decide on one to show can be a challenge for me sometimes.

          Worker guys.

What is on this fence?

          “Did you see the old motorcycle?” Mike asked.

          “Nope. I was busy trying to figure out what all this stuff is.”

I did manage to get a shot of the motorcycle before it was gone from view.

Up ahead, another cemetery, a truck pulled over, and a guy walking through the corn field. I zoomed in with my camera and asked, “What’s he doing?”

          “I think he’s got one of those metal detectors.” Mike’s got eagle eyes.

           For the longest time a squirrel ran down the side of the road in front of us.

           Then he decided to cross over.

          We hadn’t gone far when a doe darts out in front of us.

          I don’t normally take a lot of deer pictures because they’re like a dime a dozen around here. But since I still had my camera up from taking the squirrel picture, I took her picture too.

          And I’m glad I did! Right behind her a buck comes bounding up the bank.

          Three different times on this road alone, I took pictures of strangers and that’s something I seldom do. I might have to do it more often.

The next day Rosie and Tux stopped by on their morning walk.

“What time is Itsy’s vet appointment,” Miss Rosie asked.

“One-thirty. We’ll leave here around twelve-thirty.” I knew that was plenty of time for us to get there and we’d still be early. I knew that. “Think that’s enough time?” I asked with a mischievous grin on my face.

Rosie laughed. “Yeah, like half an hour too much.”

But, by this time, you know Mike’s policy on appointments. I’d rather be fifteen minutes early than one minute late, he says.

This will be the first time we’ve been to the vet since they closed the office here in Wyalusing and moved operations to the Towanda office.

“Where’s it at?” Mike asked.

“Just past Monroeton. You can go out through New Albany and up 220,” Miss Rosie suggested.

And I liked that idea. We seldom travel that stretch of road so it was an opportunity for new pictures.

On our way out for Itsy’s vet appointment we pass a DNR truck just as he’s coming off the bridge. I think right now they’re releasing pheasants.

          And not long after that Itsy started whining.

          “Do you think she has to go to the bathroom?” Mike asked.

          “No. She pooped and peed just before we left the house. I think she doesn’t want to be in the car.”

          She kept up a steady stream of whimpering and crying.

          “I’m going to pull over up here and let’s just see if she has to go,” Mike said.

          I was a little peeved. “Fine! But you’re taking her, I’m not.”

          When Mike pulled over, I stuck to my guns. If he thought she had to go, which I knew she didn’t, he could walk her.

          And I was right.

          The whole way, and I mean every second of every minute of every mile, that dog carried on. So much so that I thought she was going to make herself sick. It didn’t matter if she was in her car seat, or if I held her, or if Mike held her, or put her on the floor under my feet (that’s where she like to travel in the RV), if I petted her, or cooed to her. She refused to be soothed.

          It was a long ride.

          I still managed to take a few pictures for you though.

          As expected, we were nearing our destination and we were really early. Mike didn’t want to drive fast and had a couple of cars coming up behind him so he pulled over at a gas station to let ‘em pass.

          Across the road, as we were leaving the Dandy, sits this place. I don’t know why but I was surprised to see a man appear in a window.

           At the vet clinic I decided to take Itsy out to the pet walking area. She quieted as soon as she was out of the car. I put her in the grass and watched her totter around. She’s gotten so frail these past few months and falls over a lot. She spotted a door and headed for it. There was a small step between the yard and sidewalk, and I mean small. Maybe two inches high. Itsy got her front feet up no problem,

 then over-balances and sits straight up.

       She didn’t fall over backward though, as she sometimes does, instead she twisted a little and came back down on her front feet.

       Because of COVID you have to stay in the car and they send someone out to get your pet. When Katie came to get Itsy, I told her everything that was going on with her then she took her in to see Dr. Lori.

          After she was done, Dr. Lori came out and talked to us. “Itsy has blood in her urine which can come from any place along the track. But I’m concerned that along with her weight loss she might have kidney disease,” she told us.

          “I know she’s lost some weight,” I said. “What’s she weigh now?”

          “Three-point-six-pounds.”

          Wow. She’s lost more weight than I thought she did. A year ago, Itsy weighed six-point-seven-pounds.

          “So, we’re going to put her on an antibiotic and see if that clears it up and we’ll give her something for pain. The challenge with that is it’s hard to dose accurately in dogs less than eight pounds. You’ll have to let me know how she does.”

          “I will,” I assured her.

          “Do you have any other concerns?” Dr. Lori asked.

          “Itsy falls over a lot and has become terribly roach-backed,” I said.

“One of the techs noticed the way Itsy walks and thinks we may be dealing with some joint issues but I’m wondering if maybe she doesn’t have a cancerous tumor on her spine — and those can be difficult to find.”

          Kidney disease. Cancerous spinal tumor. Neither one is good. But she’s fifteen now.

          Dr. Lori stroked her belly a couple of times as she stood outside our car giving us the news. She’s pregnant, I thought.

          “Is there anything else?” Dr. Lori asked. She always makes sure she addresses all of your questions before she leaves.

          “Can I ask a personal question?” Mike asked.

          I grinned. He saw it too. He’s going to ask when she’s due.

          Dr. Lori is a good sport. “Sure.”

          “Do you own this building?” Mike wanted to know.

          I should’ve known that’s what he was going to ask. He asked me earlier and I guessed she did but didn’t know for sure.

          Dr. Lori nodded. “Yes. I own this one and the one in Wyalusing." She paused. "Anything else?" 

          “When are you due?” I blurted out.

          She looked confused. “What?”

          “Peg!” Mike hissed. “Shhh!”

          But it was too late now. “Are you pregnant?”

          She smiled and stroked her belly again. “No. I’m just getting old and fat.”

          Will I ever learn!

          I felt so bad about it that I ended up apologizing in a private message later but she told me not to worry. She wasn’t offended. However, she’d think twice about wearing such an unflattering top. It wasn’t the top that did it though; it was the way she stroked her belly, much like a woman caressing her unborn child. I didn’t tell her that.

          But I can tell you this right now. The pain reliever isn’t helping much. Itsy still sits in her bed and cries for a while before going to sleep. It’s heart-wrenching for us to have to listen to her and we don’t want her to suffer. Monday I’ll call the vet and try to get a different pain reliever.

The bottom line; it looks like we may be losing her.

          We’d already decided we were going home a different way so we could swing past Jack Williams and pick up Mike’s tractor tire.

          And Itsy started crying and carrying on just a few minutes into the ride.

          “Why don’t you give her one of those pain pills?” Mike asked.

          “Okay, but you’ll have to swing through McDonalds and get a burger so I have something to put it in.”

          As soon as the burger was in the car, Itsy’s focus shifted, she stopped crying, and was interested in the burger.

I broke off about a third of it for her and gave the rest to Mike. They use way too much salt and that’s not good for her.

"I’m probably not going to like this bill.” Mike was thinking about his tire.

          “How much do you think it’ll be?” I asked.

          “It should only be a few bucks but they’ll probably charge fifteen or twenty.”

          It wasn’t long till Mike was coming back across the parking lot carrying his tire. He stowed it in the back and climbed in the driver’s seat.

          “How much was it?” I asked.

          “Nothing. It was just a small hole and they didn’t charge me anything.”
          That was a nice surprise.

          I rationed Itsy’s burger as long as I could then offered her some bun, which she promptly tore into little pieces and spit out. Then it was back to listening to her cry for the rest of the trip home.

          Something is happening there along Route 6 before you get into Rummerfield. There’s heavy equipment clearing the land and they’ve taken out a beautiful rock wall that’s likely been there since the days of the CCC.

And they’ve saved the rocks. They’re all piled up here.

           “I wonder why they’ve saved ‘em. Do you think they belong to the state and they have to save ‘em?” I mused.

          Mike didn’t know but the Kipps had a guess.

          “Maybe they’re going to sell them,” Miss Rosie guessed.

          “Maybe they’re going to use them,” is Lamar’s guess.

>>>*<<<

          Mike has finally decided to get the Fordson out and work on the pond. Itsy and I went down shortly after he started work and watched for a while. In one scoop he took out more willows than I could’ve taken out by hand in an hour.

           More great hunks of willows came out.

          I let Itsy wander but kept an eye on her. Pretty soon she starts to head for home.

           As long as Itsy was going in the right direction, I let her go. She’s a little hard to see in this photo but she’s right about in the middle. That little dog, who never walks, walked the whole way home.

Remember, you’re all in in my heart.

And with that, let’s call this one done!