Quiet

           My house has been noisy lately and that’s the truth. Our old blind Macchiato has taken to yowling — not meowing. Yowling. A meow is a meow even if it’s a loud meow. A yowl is different. It’s a very loud, throaty, dismal, annoying, sound and once you’ve heard a yowl, you’ll know the difference.

          “Peg, doesn’t it mean there’s something wrong?” you ask.

          It can mean that. When he first started doing it, we took him to the vet to be checked. Blindness, either mostly or complete, was all she found.

          Macchiato showed up in the strip mall one day and decided to stay. It took a few weeks for Mike to allow him in the house, but once in, he never left. He was one of Mike’s favorite cats and Mike couldn’t bear to leave him behind when we moved. We’re not sure how old Macchiato was…

          “Was, Peg?”

          You caught that, huh? Yeah. Was. We found him dead Saturday morning. Just outside the litter box in the pantry. Mike is pretty sad about it. And now, with the absence of Macchiato, a quiet has settled over my house.

          And we’re down to two. 

          As promised, here is the completed exercise studio. 

         Miss Rosie’s likes Peggy’s Pain Palace, or Peg’s Palace of Pain.

          Peg, Peggy, I’ll answer to either. Heck! I’ll even answer to Margaret if you’re so inclined to call me by my given name!

          I asked for any suggestions for a name for our studio and only one person replied.

          “As for a gym name—since it's all that nice wood and you don't necessarily want a name that makes you dread using it—how about Cardio Cabin?” my editor-in-chief, Jenn, suggested.

          That’s a great suggestion, if I was interested in marketing this place. I was just trying for something cutesy and fun.

          “I like the alliteration of the letter ‘p’,” my Miss Rosie said.

          “Is that what it’s called when all the words start with the same letter?” I asked.

          “Yes. And it’s an assonance if it’s a repetition of a vowel sound, like ounce, pounce, and bounce.” You can take the English teacher out of school…

          “Peg, what’s that cement-looking thing under the heater for?” you ask.

          It was the base of some kind of machine when the saw mill was here and it extends back into my closet for another twenty-one feet. Rather than try to take it out, we decided to incorporate it. Mike will finish this part off by boxing it in. And if you know me then you know that no flat surface will stay empty for long!

           We saw this nice buck in the neighbor’s field. I hope he lives through the upcoming deer season.

          Speaking of hunting…

          Mike was watching TV and I don’t know what I was doing, but he calls out, “Tiger’s got something!”

          ‘Where?” I asked entering the living room.

          “Out on the patio.”
          I opened the door and there was Tiger. “What’cha got there, buddy?” I asked.

          “Meow,” he replies.

          It was just a mouse.

          “Good job!” I told him and pet his head.

          “I’ll have to go out later and clean up whatever he doesn’t eat,” I told Mike. “But at least it’s on the front patio and Bondi won’t get it before I do.”

          Later that day my beautiful friend Jody stops by for a tour of the exercise studio. I greet her on the front patio as she gets out of her truck. “Don’t step on the mouse guts,” I warned. Why Tiger had to eat it in front of the door, I don’t know!

          Jody looked where I was pointing and laughed. “You’re a good friend not to let me step on mouse guts.”

          Bondi had no idea what to make of Jody. Her little legs were as stiff as boards as she kept herself pushed away and just looked at her like this. Didn’t bark, didn’t growl, but never seemed to enjoy Jody’s tender ministrations, petting, coos, that kind of stuff.

          Jody really likes our studio. I’m looking forward to working out with my girls but so far only my Miss Rosie has committed to a time slot.

          “How many girls can work out at one time?” you ask.

          I’m thinking there’s room for me and two more but I won’t know for sure until the first time we try it.

It can be hard to find days and a time slot that suits everyone so I was leaning more toward individualized sessions than groups.

          Did you know that having Bondi is a lot like having a kid? When I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing and it’s quiet, I know I’d better check on her.

          It got quiet, I went looking, and met her coming out of the bedroom. I think she must've heard me coming.

          ‘What did you do‽” I exclaimed when I walked in the bedroom and saw this.

          Bondi sat down, looked up at me, her little eyes bright with pride, her tongue hanging out, panting from exertion, her tail thumping rhythmically on the floor. “I killed it, mom! I killed it for you!”

          “Peg, do you know what that’s called?” you ask.

           What what’s called?

          “What it’s called when you attribute language and mannerisms to animals?”

Actually, I do. It’s called anthropomorphism but I don’t care. It’s my story.

“Bondi! What did you do‽” I repeated.

She jumped up, raced around to the other side of the bed and came back carrying the carcass of a cat bed, the bottom torn up, all the stuffing pulled out.

I know Bondi’s gonna tear stuff up. That’s the kind of pup she is. I just try to mitigate what she tears up. One pair of old shoes she can have. And like a kid, if she can have it, she loses interest. Instead, she goes in the closet and helps herself to daddy’s spare tennis shoes or mom’s Sunday-go-ta-meetin’ shoes. I do have to constantly be aware of where she is and what she’s doing.

          I’m gonna guess that one of the cats knocked the cat bed down and she did what she does best. Eviscerate it.

          Check out this guy, would ya!

          “Peg! You’ve got a Blue Jay!” you exclaim.

          Indeed I do!

          “How did you get a Blue Jay?” I know you wanna know.

          I got a Blue Jay with the help of Spitfire. It was dark out, past six, when he came to the door to be let in for the night. I opened the door and it was only after he ran for the kitchen that we saw he was carrying something.

          “I think it’s a bird!” I told Mike as I ran past him after Spitfire.

          In the kitchen, Spitfire turned loose of the bird. I scooped him up before he could get his wits about him and take off. It would be harder to catch him then.

          “It’s a Blue Jay!” I called.

          “Be careful,” Mike warned. “They’re mean!”

          I’m thinking this guy was just grateful to be out of the maw of his predator.

          He didn’t appear to be hurt, no blood anywhere that I could see. I took him out the front and as soon as he detected a loosening of my grip, he took off, hit the roof of the awning and came back down onto the cement.

          I went back in the house. “Don’t let the cats out in the morning till I make sure he’s gone,” I told Mike. What I didn’t say is if he died in the night either the possums would get him or the cats could have him then.

          “He caught it fair and square,” Mike pointed out.

          I couldn’t argue with that. If they catch it fair and square, I let them keep it. “If they bring it into the house then they abdicate all their rights to it.” 

          Mike’s new tractor came. The guy had a cool trailer. He used the electric controls to raise it until the back was on the ground and drove it off.

          I’m sure you’ll see more of this tractor once Mike starts using it.

          I spent so much time this week finishing up the last week’s letter blog that it didn’t leave much time for crafting.

          “Come to Ladies' Brunch on December 4^th,” came a special request from Jody. “We’re going to make something for the residents of the nursing home for Christmas.”

          “What are you going to make?” I wanted to know.

          “Well, that’s part of the reason I want you to come. I’m in charge of deciding a craft and I need your help. We did no-sew lap blankets last year.”

          “One of the things I’ve always wanted to try was homemade window clings.”

          “That sounds interesting. That’s something they could put in their windows to brighten their rooms.”

          So, this week I’ve been playing with that. I made a couple of snowflakes and some leaves. I tried coloring them with paint, nail polish, and ink. The nail polish looks the best and the ink never dries. I tried dropping little beads in them but my glue must’ve started to set by the time I got around to it so the beads just rolled off. I can’t try glitter because I haven’t got any.

          “Peg, you didn’t tell us what they’re made from,” you say.

          I didn’t, did I? They’re made from hot glue. All except the one that looks like a chicken foot. That one was made with Elmer’s glue. It sticks really well, and so does the hot glue, but it spreads more and takes longer to dry.

          We made a trip to Sayre this week to do a little shopping. At Walmart I picked up a mini glue gun for just under three bucks. I got some mini glitter sticks for about the same price. I tried making a leaf with those but they don’t stick to the glass.

          What if I go over the glitter glue with the hot glue? I wondered and gave that a try. It did stick to the window. For a little while. Then it fell to the floor.

          Jody has a couple of other ideas for gifts so we’ll just wait and see what shakes out.

          We took Bondi with us. She doesn’t like it when we leave her home and she rides really well. Plus, it wouldn’t be too hot (or too cold) to leave her in the car. We only had a small shopping list.

          “Mike, look how big she is!” It’d been a while since we’d taken her. “I remember when she didn’t even fill the bed. Now she has to roll up to fit!” She had her arm out of her sweater but I didn’t bother her to fix it.

“She’s gotten pretty long,” Mike said.

Miss Rosie had me measure Bondi before we left on vacay back in September. I think it was around twenty-four or twenty-five inches from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. When we got back two weeks later, Bondi had grown an inch.

When I got home from shopping, I measured Bondi. She measures thirty-three inches to the very tip of the hair on her tail.

“The Dachshund in her is really starting to show,” Miss Rosie said.

 I took pictures of houses on this trip. Some of them are in Waverly, New York where we went for gas. It’s just a mile or so from Sayre and gas is fifteen cents a gallon cheaper there. The others I took in Towanda. You may have seen some of these before but I, for one, never tire of looking at them.

          Coming up out of Wyalusing, lives a Trumper. His sign saying TRUMP FOREVER has a hand painted circle with a slash through it indicating no.

          “Do you think he’s tired of Trump?” Mike asked.

          “Either that or someone did it and he doesn’t know it yet.”

          The old Red Rose diner has been for sale for a while now. “Didn’t it used to be red?” I asked Mike when we drove past.

          “I don’t think so,” he said.

          I Googled pictures of it and it used to be white, with red trim. Now it’s green all except a little part in the front that’s not painted. 

          We only ever ate in there one time. Mike wasn’t crazy about watching the guy cook our food on the flattop behind the counter where we sat.

          We stopped at Tractor Supply for more liniment. We picked up this huge tennis ball for Bondi.

          “She won’t be able to carry it around but it’ll be fun to watch her push it with her nose,” Mike said.

          Bondi found a solution for that. She didn’t have it five minutes before she was pulling it apart. Now she can carry it around!

          I found a recipe I wanted to try. It was a soup with coconut milk, chickpeas, lentils, and curry. It’s both vegan and dairy free. I was pretty sure I had everything I’d need and the night before I wanted to make it, I’d gathered all the ingredients and put them on the counter by the slow cooker. It was only during this process I’d realized I didn’t have any lentils.

          The soup was put on hold.

          Our next trip to the store, I bought lentils.

Once again, the night before I wanted to make it, I decided I’d stage everything on the counter along with the crockpot. It just makes it easier in the morning.

Guess what?

This time, I couldn’t find the recipe! I looked through my stack of recipes, it wasn’t there. I checked my craft counter. Not there. I checked my desk. Not there either. I resigned myself to the fact that it was in the black hole of things-lost-and-never-to-be-seen-again, went to the computer and printed another copy.

I went in the pantry to start getting stuff out and there, right under the sweet potatoes, was my recipe. I’d set it down when I opened the bean bucket looking for lentils.

          I didn’t take many sunset photos this past year, at least that’s the way it seems to me. And now that we’re approaching winter, the sun sets behind the trees and that’s why I hardly ever capture winter sunsets. I did manage a sunrise picture this week and for interest, I took it behind my spinner.

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