Cranky and Crabby

          I’m feeling cranky and crabby today. I know that surprises you, but it’s true. Even this mostly cheerful and thankful person has days when I want to make everyone around me feel as miserable as I feel.

          Buddy died.

          Went to watch a roof raising.

          Took lots of road pictures.

          Finished Fifi portrait.

          Done.

          There. That’s your letter this week.

          “Boy, you are cranky and crabby,” you say. Then you ask, “Buddy died?”

          I suspected he wasn’t doing well because after two days of eating and pooping, his appetite dropped off and he barely ate anything. He continued to pee, but not poop. Then Monday night into Tuesday he didn’t eat anything, despite my attempts to tempt him by making chicken and giving him all the luscious scraps. Possums need to eat bones because they need the calcium.

Almost every day I’d have to find where he was hiding. I found him burrowed down into an old pillow the cats were using as a bed one morning. Another morning, I was surprised to see he’d climbed into a box to sleep.

          Wednesday morning, when I went out to check on him, I didn’t have to look for him. There he was, right out in the middle of the floor, cold and stiff. I took him out and tossed him in the weeds. He’ll make a meal for another critter and such is the cycle of life. I swept up the littler from cat room floor, along with all my hopes and dreams of taking care of him, and tossed everything out.

          On a happier note, I stood at the kitchen sink and watched this Blue Jay eat seeds from the volunteer sunflowers that sprang up in my flowerpots. I’m going to plant sunflowers on purpose next year!

          Mike bought new wheels for Big Red. The old ones were rusted and pitted. We had been on the hunt to find a place that could change the tires over and we found this truck company.

          I took road pictures for you.

          We saw a lot of dead deer.

          “I can tell it’s hunting season!” I said to Mike after the sixth dead one. Then my beautiful friend Jody reminded me it’s also rutting season.

          These folks go all out. I actually like this better than those inflatables.

          Another day, a trip to Towanda, I see a beaver made a dam across our pretty little creek. This is in the Kipps’ backyard.

          The sun sparkling on the Susquehanna.

          I almost got my camera up in time to see the spooks hanging from the second story windows. I don’t know when we’ll be back that way for me to try for a better picture.

          We were passing the Kipps’ house and I see Lamar had his lawn tractor up by the house, under the Rhodie. He threw his hands in the air and got off.

          “I think Lamar’s stuck,” I said to Mike just as we were crossing the bridge. “He might need help.”

           I don’t care where we’re going or what we’re doing, we’re never too busy to stop and help a neighbor in need.

          Mike backed up, pulled into the driveway, and put the window down. “Do you need some help?”

          “No. I heard Tux bark,” I guess he was talking to Tux through the wall. “I’m just going to put some gas in the mower,” Lamar said.

          We continued on our way to a meeting hosted by our newly formed high-speed internet company.

          We received an invitation to an information gathering meeting where they would tell us all about fiber optics, how it works, the installation process, how much it costs, and we would be able to sign up for it at that time if we were interested.

          My beautiful cousin Stacey works for Revolution Broadband. “Aren’t you already hooked up?” she asked.

          “Yep. They hooked it up yesterday,” Mike told her. We were probably the only ones there that were. We’d signed up for it a long time ago and were supposed to go the meeting months ago. I guess they had an opening and just added us before we attended the meeting.

          I leaned in, conspiring to tell Stacey a secret, “I’m here for the cookies.”

          “They’re really good,” she said.

          They were made by a local business and they were really good! I especially liked the peanut butter but the sugar cookies were my second favorite. The pumpkin was okay and I didn’t try a ginger snap.

          This handsome young man goes to our church. Joel recently inherited his grandparents' homestead and is excited to make it his own. He’s got big dreams to build a business there as well as raise his family on land where he has so many cherished memories.

          “I learned to swim in the pond,” he said. “I rode dirt bikes and ATVs on the trails. I climbed the rocks and camped out in the woods. I shot my first deer there.” There were lots of other firsts that happened to him there but I don’t remember them all.

           Joel invited us to come out and watch them raise the roof on the garage. We left early, before the fog had burned off, for the hour-long ride.

          We left the main roads and started to climb a mountain. “Joel said it was on a mountain under a windmill,” Mike said.

          Mike parked the car where I could sit inside, stay warm, and still see. The plan was to use the lifts to raise the roof but it was too heavy and didn’t work. Plan B was to rip the roof off and that would take time. We weren’t staying.

          “Let me show you a couple of things before you leave,” Joel said.

          “These big rocks are the ones we used to climb on. We’d climb right up the hillside and this made a perfect lookout. I’m going to put steps up, they’ll split at the top, one going this way and the other one going to the other side,” he pointed to the big rock on his left, “and this can be a picnic area or play area for the kids,” Joel dreamed.

          Joel drove us up the mountain. At the top were gorgeous views where you could see forever and a day.

          “I want to have three cabins and rent them out,” Joel said. “They’ll all have a deck where you can sit and take in the view.”

          From there he drove us to the windmill. I stood under it and looked up.

          “I’ve been inside it,” Joel said, “before it was up and running.” He told us there were platforms every so often to allow you to rest from the long climb.

          On the way back down the mountain I saw something. “Is that an old picnic table?” I asked.

          Joel backed up for me. “I asked about that, but I was told it was gone! Thank you for seeing it.”

          There wasn’t much left to it and if I hadn’t seen the legs, I wouldn’t’ve known it was a table at all, being all moss covered like it was.

          I was in the backseat and noticed we kept hitting branches and brush beside the road, or that’s what I thought was happening. Turns out we’d picked up a hitchhiker. A gigantic branch had become lodged under the car and we were taking it with us.

          “I gotta get rid of that,” Joel said, stopped the car, and got out.

          You know me. I had to take pictures.

          “Don’t tell my mother-in-law," he said.

          Joel showed us the hunting cabin his brother had built. “He did the siding like that so it would look camouflage.”

          Upstairs there’s a bathroom. It’ll have a woodstove and bunks for the hunters. The ground floor is currently used for wood storage and whether it’ll always be used for that or not, I don’t know.

Bret, Joel’s brother, died unexpectedly a couple of years ago. He was only 41. Joel’ll finish the hunting cabin in Bret’s memory.

          I took more pictures on the way home but I’m not going to show them to you now. Maybe next time if space and time allow.

          Let’s end this week with Fifi. She’s an American Bulldog and the beloved pet of the daughter of one of our church peeps. They’d had Fifi for thirteen years and had to put her down. When Lynda saw the watercolor of Scout that I’d done for California Susan, she asked if I’d do Fifi.

          “I’ll try,” was what I told her.

          She sent me her daughter’s favorite photo of Fifi.

          When I started painting it, I wasn’t sure I could do it. Watercolors have an ugly stage and I was there. It was ugly, and I was discouraged. “I don’t know what I’m doing!” I cried to Mike. With Fifi being gone, it was important that I get it right. I stopped, bowed my head, and prayed for God’s help before picking up my brush again. When I’d done the best I could, I called Lynda. She was excited to get it and stopped that very night.

“Those eyes,” she said, and when she looked up at me, she had tears in her own eyes. “Thank you.” She gave it to her daughter that night and, “We both cried,” she told me.

          No one is more surprised than I am that it came out as well as it did. It’s not perfect, but remember, this is only my third dog.

          Let’s call this one done.

          Done!