Actually, I was sweaty up until about 30 minutes ago when I showered and was mortified to learn that I had used a shower gel called SNAKE PEEL. I don’t know; it was there and it was orange and without my glasses on I thought it said SHAKE WELL.

But then it is Friday the 13th and I did see a real snake today when Summer and I mowed at Mother’s. We had totally forgotten the date, though, and so the snake nor the incident of the belt coming off the Wheel Horse didn’t seem preordained. The grass had grown more than I expected and so we mowed more than we had intended – the ‘old mow the front and east part’ strategy gave way to ‘mow until your butt hurts soooo bad’ plan. We didn’t know this was the strategy at the time but it turned out to be a determining factor. And, of course, rain was in the prediction so we decided we had better hurry and get the mowers  put away. (snicker)

I thought about the comments I received regarding Pioneer Woman and Chef Ramsay while I was mowing.  It would be an interesting encounter. Ramsay does have a bit of an accent so I suppose for clarity’s sake, his voice will be P-Dubbed in.

Why look there, Mildred. His lips don’t seem to match the words. Odd, isn’t it, how excited and red his face was when he said, “My, my, this is certainly a lovely risotto.”

But on with the day . . . we stopped by the cemetery and a black squirrel crossed our path and then we turned up Fawn River Road but had to turn around because a big wreck had just happened. That’s when we realized it was Friday the 13th.

Summer pointed out that we had been lucky: The belt went back on; we had taken extra gas; the snake was a little garter one; black squirrels are all over the Sturgis Cemetery; we weren’t in the spot of the wreck a few seconds earlier when it occurred. I told her to knock on wood because we still had to get home. We should carry wood in our Buick because I did get home but I took a shower with SNAKE PEEL.

You don’t suppose it could be some sort of retribution for the spark plug do-da-doo-da-dooing, do you?

A scenario popped in my head. Pioneer Woman meets Chef Ramsay in her Tasty Kitchen.

D0o-da-doo-doo-da-doo.  We have a back story I am going to tell right up front. Actually, I didn’t really tell it back or front to Cameron, who pushed the scooter all the way back from the far side of Bixler Lake Park.  You see, it had power, but the engine wouldn’t catch.

He leaned against the car as I looked it over and thought, “Oh, but why? It ran well when I took it around the block.”

Then my mind clicked and I just made mindless doo-da-doo noises to keep myself from blurting out some crucial information.

It quit running because after Summer and I replaced the battery, the motor wouldn’t start and so we checked the air filter and the spark plug. It still didn’t start until Summer realized a lock was engaged to help deter theft. We flipped that gadget and varooom. Now, notice the only reason we looked at the spark plug is because we had forgotten the lock thingie.

And, do-da-doo-da -doodle, apparently I didn’t put the spark plug cap on really, really tight and it vibrated off.

That is the  little back story to Cameron’s marathon push home . . . on one of our warmest days.

I said the little spark plug cap had vibrated off and he muttered a curse word in a tiny little voice: one word – one whimpered word. I didn’t tell him why the cap vibrated off. I figured while fate might get a squeaked response, my carelessness might result in the evil stare of death.

I figure he had a good story to tell at school – all that pushing. I have learned sometimes your conscience can stand a little weight. Anyway, it was good exercise.

doo-da-doo-doo-da-do

I have not posted an update on Sydney. I should have but even now I am finding myself confused as to what to say. He seems to be very tired and yesterday he didn’t want to eat until Shane sniffed his food. Today, though, he wolfed down his 2 o’clock meal. But now, I am not so sure that he isn’t hunching his back a little as he walks.

He’s 14.

He was the last person – furry and non-furry – to whom my father spoke  coherently before he died. He came out to see Mother when she was diagnosed with advanced cancer and she smiles and asked, “So, you came out to see me, Sydney?”

Quentin and I got him when he was six months old. That was a long time ago. I am beginning to think it was a lifetime ago.

My intuition tells me I’m being too downbeat.

Flowers from Robert, Alison, Cameron, Colin and Summer.

I didn’t say anything because Sydney seemed to come around after acting sick on Friday evening; I took him to the vet on Saturday and his temperature was normal, but we did the usual blood draw and he has pancreatitis again with some liver involvement.

Well, darn, darn, darn and darn.

WE will be running over at 4 pm for a pain shot and an antibiotic shot. I am wearing my green T-shirt with the yellow tipping cow logo from Ohio.. Maybe I’ll change . . . into my pastel blue one with the white logo that LZP sent. It’s a bit more dignified, don’tcha know.

Sydney is beside me now, not on his sickbed, but on the sick-sofa-corner. I brought him my pillow and an afghan.

I know I have been droning on about rainy days being so plentiful. It has not been my imagination. Driving Cameron to school this morning, I was struck by the visual evidence of our situation. Things looked different – but what? Then it hit me, all the lawns were smooth and even, stretching one into another like an endless fairway.

Of course, people were able to mow on Saturday and trim bushes. Before, the route had seemed lined by a strip of chickenpox grass. You know . . . bump, bump, bump, bump.

However, as far as getting the deck repainted – and we are considering incorporating a design – it’s about seven days of predicted storms and showers. So we will have time to plan out just what colors we are going to use and the sequence in which we need to apply out painter’s tape.

On the other hand, maybe we should have a Jackson Pollock deck. I suppose paint guns from the porch roof is an option. Oh, well, maybe not anymore since the new porch roof has an incline to it

I did not seek this part of weather.com out, but having stumbled on it, I watched the first video and then looked at the rest. I think my favorite is the “weather taxi”.

This LINK should take you to the index of Worst Weatherman videos. Oh, by the way, it’s sponsored by Suburu.

70 big DEGREES and it is sunny today. Tomorrow is also supposed to be sunny. Be still my celebrating heart . . . and my mind, such as it it. I feel like going out and pulling all the sun’s rays into my brain and letting them do their chemical chores. This has been a year of clouds and, for the first time in my life, I truly appreciate how important it is to see the sun at least now and then.  I think I was on the verge of developing “brain scurvy” and I believe I could feel my brain cells loosening and getting ready to fall out.

Here is Northern Indiana we learn to take advantage of sunny days. Heck, when I moved to Sacramento decades ago, I about killed myself taking advantage of them. There were so many . . . every day – on and on – until it started to rain. Back then I was celebrating the clouds and rain the way I am celebrating the sun now.

But what to do about this messy house that is now beyond cluttered because the dreary days have been so spirit-sapping? A magic wand would be very welcome . . . and then there is that granddaughter who wants to make money. How about a Merry Maid uniform for her? Or should I give her a rag to wrap around her head, an apron, a bucket and sturdy shoes.

Then again, maybe a pagan dance to honor the Neatness Goddess would do the trick. I wonder if we would have to get naked? Well, the backyard is fenced in  . . .

Update: Oh, what was my first clue I had forgotten to take my medicine this morning. I’ll go ahead and swallow some pills and see how the naked pagan dance sounds then.

I forgot that the smartest thing to do when one has a slight tingling in the nose is to stay away from certain irritants. I fogot and I went into Rural King and walked down the fertilizer and weed killer aisles.

What I should have done then  -in true 911 fashion – would have been a to drive to Taco Bell. I thought about it but I couldn’t trust myself to stand in line; I was afraid I would run over to the sauce bin and start ripping the fire and hot ones open – snorting them. I would have no doubt screamed, “Give me a volcano burrito NOW!”

Also, I had Summer with me and a taco to her is like a cross to a vampire.

I have ingested Alka-Seltzer Cold & Sinus and have been sitting with my head tilted in the “drip” position. The latter is not working but I believe the former has kicked in some. For awhile there, I felt like clawing my forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks and upper teeth out of my face.

I actually sat here and thought, “Be the nasal passage ducts and feel yourself relaxing and opening up.” That’s a desperate try with alternative medicine, dontcha know. I put a space heater in front of me and leaned into the air flow. My head feels well enough now that I have progressed to the possibility of a liberating sneeze phase. And I have moved my head from the heater air stream and stuck my feet down by it.

Ah, relief.