SIGH . . . Now Robert has the green snot virus and so I will be taking Alison down to Options Treatment Center to pick up Colin. Der Bingle, who showed up last night (with Hot Headed Burritos) volunteered to go but I think it is best that I let him stay here with Summer while I go. I have the experience . . . Oh, it’s not that I have been there before; it is that I have ridden for extended hours with the person of two personalities – the incredible talking machine and – snap your fingers – the living corpse. I fully expect to be pulled over sometime by a policeman wondering about the “head lolling on the headrest with mouth hanging open” body.

I am going dressed in clean and totally wrinkled linen clothes; I can’t see the point of ironing only to get in a car with a seatbelt for about, oh, six hours total. I do appreciate the idea of being clean, though.

I may wear my little black sketcher shoes that are the beach trekkers and have mesh as a majority of the body. Kind of makes me think of those black fishnet stockings my dancing teacher wore when I was in kindergarten, only these are just shoe-level.  I  remember asking my mother and other people why the teacher wore those criss-cross black thread stockings and I don’t think I got an answer. Think of it, though;  you walk a five year old who was born in 1948 into a room where a woman has on these things. I had never seen such a thing before. I think I was a lion for my first recital – a pastel green one with curtain tassels for my mane and stuffed ears on my hood/hat. We must have been doing The Wizard of Oz. There were three lions, the other two were yellow. That’s about all I remember, other than somersaults across part of the stage.

I keep my iphoto pictures in the little iphoto file until, boom, something grabs me and screams, “You will never get these uploaded for printing for Christmas or whatever! You are a procrastinating jerk!” Even that has worked lately. This morning, however, I got my email and there was an upload message from Kodak and the next thing you know I’ve updated my upload plug-in and have started the almost never-ending task. I think there are thousands. I am on picture 52 of my first 202 item chunk.

Of course, I never organize my stuff in iphoto, often don’t even throw away photos in the trash that are somebody’s thumb so when it all gets to Kodak, it is a stampede; my photos do not go marching in with titles and dates and instructions. Woo-Hoo . . . #79 now.

It is raining outside and dreary so maybe I will light an oil lamp for ambiance while I use this fancy technology.

#91 now.

My typing fingers just blurted that out. The hallmark of a late summer cold/respiratory flu. Just what you wanted to live with – well, I guess it’s better than dying with it – and it moves around inside you. And last night I just watched Monsters Within Me and that wasn’t wise because for some reason, the tiny things you need a microscope to see were enlarged via technology into perfectly visible tri-cuspid mouthed creatures. IN YOUR EYE. EATING  YOUR BRAIN.

Then it was DARK when I took Alison to work – no more of those nice summer mornings filled with sunlight.  Auuuuggggghhhhhhh. Both dogs insisted on coming and when we got to the hospital entrance, they saw a lady walking and went into barkfest mode. That includes hopping from front to back to front, and in Shane’s case, thunking his head against the glass because I don’t believe he truly understands transparent, but solid windows.

I used an old alarm clock of my mother’s because I had given mine to Cameron and discovered that she probably didn’t use it as an alarm clock anymore – because it won’t shut off. It will only snooze. To get it to stop fully, I will have to unplug it and reset the time. (Or I could take the cover off and look at what’s not working and completely break it.)

I am almost in a mood for Green Spam.

Well, the doctor says the flu is going around. I felt better when I was thinking summer cold. People are sneezing around me, leaving germs in my personal space. And Summer has taken my favorite blankie. My nose feels heavy enough to pull my face down on the table and each of us thinks it is chilly in here at different times. Next thing you know, we will all have cowpox.

I started out to write about the beehive tin, which I used for collecting loose change and dollars to go into the Sydney’s Chicken Fund  – cause we all know how he has to eat special food.

It got really full and I looked at it and thought, “More! More money. Keep saving.” I mean Sydney was getting his roasts and chickens out of the regular grocery fund so why not make this a general saving tin?  But I wanted a different tin – a bigger one, the one I had just picked up at GoodWill that has a cow and sheep on it. I would show it but I forgot to take a picture. Maybe later.

I looked at all the horizontal surfaces in the cafe and thought it was getting more than crowded. So, little beehive tin, I am setting you in a box to be used for giving little treats to people. Like maybe some special honey for honey lovers? I have decided this is how I am going to pare down the stuff here without trashing it. Maybe I’ll write a short paragraph telling about the time the tin or other whatnot spent at The Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

Well, that’s why I had the camera out – to take pictures of the beehive and the cow/sheep tins. But I goofed up. Oh, well, I did find some surprise photos on the little red camera from my birthday time.

Here is the smiling Der Bingle in the dining room when we were getting ready to have cake.

Actually, this cake below.

Alison picks a beach theme because she knows how much I loved San Diego. I don’t know if she heard us talking or not, but it looks like The Green Flash in the picture. I think it is supposed to be the regular sun in the sky; it seems, though, that it’s saying, “Hi there, AmeliaJake, remember me, The Green Flash?”

Next we have a mugshot of Cameron. Prepare yourselves.

And here he is after I, your lovable, but not furry, AmeliaJake, nagged him to smile.

I think pictures of others are on another camera, maybe the blue one. Of course, no telling what else is on that one . . . Summer’s little candid shots, dontcha know.

Now I am going to go put some stuff on my face to help deal with the birthday years: Estee Lauder Perfectionist. Wrinkle lifting serum. Corrector for Lines/Wrinkles/Age Spots. Of course, they write it in French below the English so we old biddies can feel like bon vivants.

The temperatures are again 90 or 90+; it is hot. Inside we have colds complete with sniffles, coughs, sneezes, the dreaded sinus pressure, sore throats and body aches. I have fully accepted into  my life Alka-Seltzer Plus for colds – The Orange Zest flavor. In fact, when I went to the store, I bought two boxes. We gave some to Summer, but she is a dud; it made her feel better but she says it is too hard to drink down and won’t take any more. All the more for me . . . . evil laugh.

I can’t complain because I have been lucky this summer with illness, and even the hot, humid days helped me sweat out twinges of sinus and made water in the form of iced tea taste so great. A lot less cola, a lot more water.

Now, though, I do have the “thunk your head on your desk” type of head cold. The draining of mucous down the throat. You could have done without that last detail, right? The ache in the ear.

Yesterday, I was again sucked into the Syfy station marathon of Earth hitting objects – asteroids, comets, solar flares, meteors. Me and my TV and my blankie and my kleenex. Then, the super powers that lie dormant in me most of the time emerged and I squeezed myself into my cell phone (because it is so hard to find a phone booth anymore) and came out as “Super AmeliaJake.” I cleaned the kitchen, picked up stuff, made the dogs a really nice dinner and showered. This is not super stuff for most, but it is for me . . . my bar is set very low – at about dustbunny level on the floor.

And, by the way, our dustbunny population is exploding because Shane is shedding. Frankly, I don’t see how we could have a dog left. However, we do and I tried to vacuum him. It didn’t work so well. He tends to shed a lot when he gets near the vet, so maybe I should run him over to the parking lot and just let the hairs settle on the gravel. Or would that be cruel? Maybe if I went over with a mayonnaise jar and let the medicinal air fill it and then came back and opened it by his nose, we would have a controlled shedding effect?

Probably I should give this some thought.

As a birthday present, I received two photos of our correspondent in the field. It pleased me a lot.

I am watching the end of a movie about two major storms meeting over Chicago during a blackout. An Air Force weather plane just landed in the eye of the hurricane (in Chicago) to pick up the pregnant wife of the pilot. But it is too much for me; I cannot watch this any longer. I am switching the channel. Oh, I didn’t mention that I think I have seen it before. As Grover says, “I am sooooo embarrassed.”

Shane, as we all know here in the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, cannot learn to open the screen door from the outside. We have tied a knotted rope on it; he has watched Sydney use his paw on a place where he (Sydney) crushed in a small piece of the screen. This has not stopped Shane from constantly running out, trusting that someone will let him back in.

Today I saw him go out and in by himself and then I saw him do it again. For some reason, knowing the Shanester, I was suspicious. I really did hope he had mastered it; I wanted so to believe it. Yet I know Shane. When I got to the door, I saw it was ajar, wedged that way by a Wubba.

Even though we have purchased so many Wubbas that some believe he is spoiled, he could not bear to leave one unplayed with. He eventually grabbed it and ran out. And the door closed behind him. Soon he was back, looking through the screen, waiting for a good samaritan.

SIGH