sadness – The Hermits' Rest

Cold and Chilled

It was quite cold and very windy today, the opposite of yesterday. My mood matched. News of mass shootings here and in Australia left a chill in my bones. This hateful behavior will never stop affecting me, and it’s baffling how many people act like it’s just a part of everyday life. I just keep thinking of the flickering but persistent light of hope, appropriate on the first night of Hanukkah.

It’s also the anniversary of my mother’s death, so long ago. Still in my darkest moments I want to call out for my mom. I’m certain I’m not alone in that.

In the unpleasant weather, the guys quickly finished the new chicken run, at least enough to use. I’ll see if they dare go out in it tomorrow. It’s supposed to be cold again, but sunny.

It’s just some chicken wire, easily moved.

Not just my fowl like the hen house when it’s cold. They are joined by many annoying house sparrows who like the heat lamp. I sure hope they don’t have any bird diseases. I can’t keep them out.

But there’s a little good news. The Cochins have started laying again. They sure choose strange times to go into production.

Mom, I Miss Her

Today my mom would have been 103, so unlike many of my friends, I never expected her to be around for me at my age. But since she has been gone for 40 years, I’ve missed her longer than I had her. I don’t dwell on this much, but something that happened to be last week brought my lack of mothering to mind.

One of the many cruel declarations against us horrible liberals asserted that we were mentally ill for supporting our LGBTQIA family and friends. It made me feel so alone and hopeless to realize this. My brain reverted to childhood, tears came to my eyes, and from deep in my past, the cry of “I want my mom” came up. I just wanted a hug from someone who unconditionally loved me.

I can still smell the Chanel No. 5 and smoke on mom as she wrapped her skinny tanned arms around me as I cried after being bullied or taunted.

It was hard being a chubby, sensitive child. It’s hard being her sensitive adult self.

I am saddened that the way people treat each other today can send me back to such raw emotional needs. Yikes. And I know I’m not alone. We all need to have a safe place, a virtual place of comfort like when you’re in your mother or father’s arms.

Mature-ish Suna must find that in herself. Ugh. (Yes, I have a fine spouse and friends, but they aren’t Mom.)

I tend to write about how Mom’s mental health issues made things difficult for me, but I assure you, she had many fine qualities, one of which was loving her children as best as she could.

She was also funny, an amazing artist and crafter, a great dancer, a gardener with a solid green thumb, a creative and resourceful cook, a fine whistler, and really good with makeup and nail polish. I remember all these traits, too.

I do miss my mom. I think she’s giving me strength via her memories. I need it.

Well Dang

Trying to stay on an even keel these days is a challenge, isn’t it? No need to name all the reasons why, because you know the ones that affect us all, and we each have our own personal stresses, grief, and challenges.

Today was one of those days when the dam burst and I felt all the feelings. I needed to feel them so I could regroup. The Buddha reminds us that life is suffering, but he also shared ways to cope, grow, learn, and move on.

That’s what I’m reminding myself of today, as I processed warmongers, school shootings, friends’ loss of parents, and frightening political climate.

Trite but true: all things must pass.

Like these bluebirds and brown birds, I feel like. I don’t know which way to go, so I teeter in the middle.

Tough Times Together

I’m just not able to say much right now. The loss of lives and livelihoods near me in Texas is heart wrenching and has affected nearly everyone I know directly or indirectly. The whole state is in shock, because the campers and other visitors were from all over the state. It’s really too hard to talk about right now.

This is Alfred informing me that the weather is bad.

I’m grateful for the first responders and trained volunteers from our county and nearby who went to help with flooding that wasn’t on the news, but was still bad. It always impresses me how these highly trained folks just go wherever they’re needed, even to other states or countries. They’re needed with so much bad weather here and in North Carolina, not to mention the fires in the Navajo Nation.

Here we just had a reasonable amount of rain, though lightning hit a tree near the horse pasture. Horses are ok. I immersed myself in work today, which was helpful. I guess I’m also grateful for having a good challenge to occupy my mind.

I’m also grateful for pets, even skittish ones.

Take care of yourselves. Hugs to all of you dealing with challenges. I haven’t forgotten you. We are in this together.

Cute Birds and Bittersweet Memories

It was the best day in a long time for bird watching. Between my observations and the Merlin Bird ID, 51 species were found on our property. That’s pretty exciting for me. But more exciting was how entertained I was by all that I saw. Yes, I’m easily entertained. You knew that.

I swear this little White-crowned Sparrow looks like an egg with a tiny head on it.

I saw a beautiful Harrier swooping over the fields late this afternoon when working with Apache the Wonder Steed. We both watched.

Then right at sunset, while I was watching and listening to the sparrows (Harris’s, White-throated, Chipping, Song, and White-crowned) as they rustled through the leaves looking for bird stuff, something flew by. It was the Great Horned Owl heading to a tree. Thirty seconds later, it hit the ground. I guess it got a mouse. Spectacular.

I didn’t like that. What if the owl was after us cute songbirds? Circle of Life, yeah yeah.

That really helped me get through a hard day. It’s now six years since I heard from my son. He was a great kid. I hope he’s enjoying life. I think he is, and that’s good. I just miss this little charmer.

33 years and 8 months ago, 4 generations.

As the two older generations in that photo are no longer here to talk to, I’m the older generation now. My cousin Jan and I have been talking about that, since her dad, a good friend of my dad’s, passed a way a couple of days ago. We’re the elders. That feels so strange.

Three generations, me, Mom, and Aunt Belle, my grandmother’s twin. I was a senior in high school.

I hope I can stay in contact with the generation after me. Maybe someday my son, but if not, it’s his decision and I respect it. And I’m fine. I just allow myself one day a year to mourn the loss that I really don’t understand. Grief is always lurking.

My parents and me in 1958. I knew they loved me, even if none of us were perfect. Dad was 27. Mom was 36.

Once again, I ask you to stick close to your loved ones, your friends who support you, and your community. We need each other.

Overwhelmed

That’s today’s word: overwhelmed. That’s what happens when too many intense events happen at once. I think I was holding myself together to get through Goldie’s surgery, then it all got to me today. I felt all oogey in my brain.

Naturally, or coincidentally perhaps, more little things kept piling up. I couldn’t sit outside to work, because my laptop screen has stopped working. And changes, questions, and challenges started piling up so I was stuck at my desk, where my chair has decided it won’t stay up. Just little things. But, ugh.

Maybe I need new ones. Photo from Pexels.

I did get a few minutes to sit with Lee as we supervised Goldie laying in the sun. We managed to keep her from running anywhere. And later, when I finished all my tasks, including training in my new department, I got to just sit with Goldie and keep her calm and happy.

Meanwhile, Harvey is having more trouble. His eye now looks like it’s messed up. I hope he hasn’t abraded his eye like Scrunchy the pug used to. And his balance is work. Two sickly dogs can be overwhelming, but I just loved on them a lot.

Plus I was concerned about Apache, who has stopped eating his dinner. He just stares at the wall. And I was worried about his feet, because he hasn’t been running like the others when they come up for food. (Mabel, on the other hand, now runs like the racehorse she may have once been.)

So. It wasn’t Tarrin’s best day either. She also has a dog who had cancerous growths removed, then surgery on her intestines that had gotten messed up by medication. Eek. We are monitoring Goldie for that.

Ekho is recovering well and enjoying her favorite rolling in the grass activity. She’s hiding her bandaged foot.

Then this morning, Tarrin found her beautiful stallion had died overnight with no signs of struggle. That was overwhelming. Just awful. Sudden losses are so unexpected; you sorta go into shock.

So, since we both felt like crap, I skipped my lessons. Horses can tell when you aren’t at your best. However, Lee was nice enough to bring Apache over to Tarrin’s so we could talk about his food, medication, and feet. Secretly I also went so I could support her like she’s been supporting me with all the dog stuff.

It was very helpful to have a friend to talk to about how I was feeling, and it also felt good to be an empathetic listener. No doubt we will both be fine later, but today we were both sad.

Apache was probably wondering why he wasn’t being saddled and ridden, but he didn’t complain about just getting a trim. His soles are shedding, so Tarrin trimmed them and put his boots on.

Wearing his boots and making his sleepy face.

She helped me come up with a feeding plan and decided we need to switch his medication. He has too many side effects still, after a year. He should not be ignoring food and standing like a zombie. The powder medicine should be more palatable and have fewer side effects. Plus it costs less!

His plan is to convince me to take him out for grass that needs trimming every day.

Now I just have to try to return the 6-month supply of Prascend that just arrived. I sure hope I can. It’s expensive. But I’m glad to have a plan for Apache! He’s doing so well in training that I want him as happy as possible.

Long story, sorry about that. But I feel better thanks to good friends (online and in person) who care. I even got surprise presents from Kathleen, who did a stealth visit, meal, and present drop-off all while we were off with Apache.

Better times are coming! Or, I’ll be back to coping well with challenging times!

Got through the Day

That’s about all I can say. I did many things to distract me from how sad Goldie is looking. I just want to get her to the oncologist tomorrow to see if there’s any hope for giving her a pain free life.

I tried to keep busy like this gal and all the hummingbirds.

Thank goodness for goofy comedies. I watched the first episode of High Potential and then three episodes of Elsbeth. They were similar premises but both very funny. It helped. TV is good for something, sometimes.

Make That TWO Canine Concerns

It’s a pretty sad day over at the Hermits’ Rest. This morning I noticed Goldie was limping. Soon after, Lee pointed out a huge lump on her left front leg. What the heck?

Well, Lee was already planning to take Harvey in for his lump and official diagnosis, but he went over to Dr. Amy’s mobile clinic and asked them to come by when they were done in Cameron (not cheap, but better than trying to transport the two big dogs).

So, they showed up and the challenges of looking at our dogs commenced. Looking at Goldie was easy. She loves Kelly the vet tech and volunteered to be looked at, poked, and prodded by Amy, too. Then she happily trotted off to the truck to get weighed. We need more Goldies.

The bad news is that the lump is probably a mast-cell tumor. Yes, they can pop up that fast. Those are the bad ones. Dammit. She has some heavy-duty steroids and antibiotics to take to see if that will shrink it. She’s getting the treatment for anthrax. Intense. Of course she won’t eat it. Lee is working on her.

I’m picky. But I need to live, because Suna loves me.

It was harder to treat Harvey. He was all shivery and snappy. But with patience, Kelly got him muzzled and Amy was able to palpate his lump. Thankfully, it felt full of fluid, not bad things. It is the least of his worries.

We’re never coming back down (the toilet paper is used to block off the stairs).

The blood work on Harvey came back really bad. All his liver levels are awful, which means liver cancer. That’s the last thing our family needs, more of that. His abdomen is swelling, too. We discussed options and decided to try a medication that can help in dogs, Denamarin. It’s helped Pickle, Anita’s dog. I don’t know that it can do much, but it will be less traumatic than taking him somewhere to get scanned, which would just tell us what we already know. Sniff.

I’m still happy, other than when vet people are around.

A funny thing or two. We were all concerned he was losing hair. Well, he isn’t. Harvey had been shaved last week to remove a cyst, and the other smooth patch was from something else they did last week that Lee didn’t remember or know about. Also, Carlton was hilarious. He ran to greet them when they came in, but when he saw who it was, his tail went between his legs and his hair stood on end. Whoa, he is not fond of veterinarians.

I’ll just stay back here behind Harvey. He’ll protect me.

Were we done yet? No. Lee’s brother had asked if Dr. Amy had come to trim Vlassic’s toenails. No, she had not. No one wants to trim his toenails. He has gotten worse and worse about it as he ages, but the nails hurt Jim. So, they said they’d give it a try, as the rain began to pour.

This went very badly. Kelly tried to just hold Vlassic, but he acted like he was being murdered. It was horrific. He bit and screamed until Amy was able to stick a needle in him. They covered him in a towel until he settled. I don’t think we will let them try without sedation again, to save on potential human injuries. What an embarrassment.

Oh, and I forgot the icing on the cake: when Vlassic was squealing, Penney ran out through the gate and tried to take matters into her own hands. She started biting his butt! So we had to remove her and Goldie both. They were upset, of course.

Was I a good dog? Well, at least I was a wet dog!

We are just going to take things one day at a time now. At least horses are doing ok at the moment. I spent a lot of time after the rain stopped just walking around and breathing. I’m glad I have some centering tools to help me deal with this stuff.

And to top it all off there was another school shooting murder spree. Why do we keep giving unstable people access to assault weapons?

Not a Good Deja Vu

Once upon a time I was in charge of a large flock of chickens that the owners were no longer interested in taking care of. Their coop had a door, but an animal had broken the screening. Let’s just say soon I had a small flock of chickens. Then I had one. Big Red hung on for a few more years.

I got a much sturdier coop and kept a few more chickens. I was down to six most of this year, then something got Bertie Lee. Then Blondie.

When I had seven. We lost the gray one last year.

Last night something got almost everyone else by coming in through their door and getting them while roosting. My fault. The hens liked to free range so I didn’t lock the door to their run. If the dang bobcat wanted them so bad, why didn’t he take them? Or maybe it was a raccoon. Or any other of the many predators we have.

I’ll really miss Buttercup. She and Bertie Lee were the friendliest ones I ever had.

I’m glad we didn’t have an attack like this for four years! But today was bad and made me cry. I’d had these hens a long time. But one is here still, poor Bianca, who can’t take the heat. It’s hard to be a lone chicken like Big Red was. She bonded with Sara’s horses. Either Bianca will do that or the predator will come back.

Circle of life. Blah blah.

If I get more chickens it will be in the fall, when it is cooler. In the meantime I’ll clean the henhouse out really well. Sigh. This past week has been rough.

At least the horses are okay. Apache seemed off yesterday but today he ate his food and took his meds like a champ. And Drew did all his exercises right, paying attention to me, his leader.

Thanks for being a good guy, Droodles. You were even good for your shot.

As icing on the cake, we are sleeping in the RV because our upstairs air conditioner has broken and won’t get fixed until Monday. Oh course, now is the time the bedroom slide decides to not extend so I can’t make the bed. Sigh again.

I’m doing a lot of deep breathing and trying to be kind to myself. I’d hoped to have lunch with friends today to cheer me up, but just one friend made it. I enjoyed a Negra Modelo in honor of Buttercup, Henley, and Billie Idyll and was consoled by Phyllis. I’m grateful to her and all my sympathetic Facebook buddies.

We can get through this stuff together (this means YOU, too, members of my household).

Anger Is Not My Friend

I don’t get angry often. My dad, who was usually funny and kind, scared the poop out of me when he got angry. And I’d cry. I ended up trying to avoid volatile people my whole life and still cope very poorly with being shouted at, even when I’m just perceiving it that way. One of my many “areas for growth.”

Birds are gathering here. Swallows on the front porch roof.

Because of all this, I’m terrible at expressing anger. I either cry or am so scary that I get criticized and berated for it. I try to let things go, breathe, and not let things beyond my control get to me. Until I don’t.

I regret to say I got angry and yelled at two people today. One person I really shouldn’t have expressed anything to, even though I wasn’t wrong to get upset. I’d repeatedly asked for something not to happen but it did anyway and I got a huge feeling of powerlessness and loss so I uncharacteristically yelled. Ugh. I should have just gone inside and cried over what I lost. Nothing will bring it back.

This kind of anger isn’t simple. Sadness and grief were I’m loved. There were underlying annoyances that I’d been keeping to myself that burst through. Not my finest moment, and I’ll have to be apologizing for not keeping things to myself better.

The second time I got angry was simpler. I was driving to lunch and came to the big four-way stop sign at a major-ish intersection not far from the ranch. This stopping place has red flashing lights, stop signs that frantically blink, and signs saying stop ahead.

I was slowing down, you know, to stop, as one does, when a big, white SUV flew through the intersection at over 70 mph (speed limit had lowered to 60 before the sign). The vehicle did not slow down one bit, and after I blew my horn, I watched it continue down the road at the same rate of speed until it finally stopped at a red light. I was glad to see the car had brakes.

That light, and a convenient slow truck ahead of the SUV enabled me to catch up to it and get a photo of the license plate. If you know this guy, tell him he could have killed someone today.

When we got to the main intersection in town, I needed to turn right, while SUV guy needed to turn left. I pulled up and saw an elderly fellow. I honked my horn and yelled “Please stop at stop signs!” Like that did any good at all.

Everyone at lunch said he probably wondered what was wrong with that hysterical old woman in the sporty car. He probably thought I was having hormonal issues.

Hmm. I do look a bit manic or like Goldie just passed gas nearby. Or like my dad. I’m angry Mr Kendall reincarnated.

I shouldn’t have road raged at the guy. I’m in Texas. He could have shot me. I have remained calm the rest of the day and will figure out how to make amends.

No one’s perfect. I’m sure not. And maybe it was the heat. 106° today. But I need to learn not to beat myself up for being human and be gentle with myself (and others). Sigh. Enough navel gazing. I can try again tomorrow.