Crowz Nest

Because it's time... as it was once before.

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Location: Port Murray, NJ

I'm a bit old to be starting out in life again, but that's where I am. Sadly. Or gladly. It's where I am. Come along. Watch the fun. Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow.

Monday, September 25, 2006

How logical are you?

I can't claim much these days, but I took a brief, for-fun on-line logic test. I generally would not say I'm very logical at all, but here you have my results. I know it will shock most of you!

You Are Incredibly Logical

Move over Spock - you're the new master of logic

You think rationally, clearly, and quickly.

A seasoned problem solver, your mind is like a computer!

Sunday, September 24, 2006

2000 years of theology summed up ...

It's kind of hard to explain to people how my mother is. She weaves a dreamworld and snippets of reality into a pastiche of experience that is both a blessing and a curse. I don't feel very blessed when she thinks I'm Lady Di, and is inconsolably upset because I'm going to die in a car accident. But I do find it a blessing when she's "with" loved ones, or hearing music, or singing in a performance, when she's somewhere else, freed from her rigid and uncontrollable body, away from the awful existence of the nursing home.

Yesterday, Mark and I were visiting her at the same time. The Mets game was on, and Mark and I were talking about Saturday's game, during which Nick Johnson of the Nationals collided with his first baseman while fielding a little blooper off of David Wright's bat. The first baseman's knee hit Johnson's leg and snapped his femur. Mark's lurid description of the incident brought Mom back in touch for a moment. "I want," she demanded, "you to tell me what you're talking about." We explained that we were talking about something that happened in a baseball game, and that seemed to satisfy her. It wasn't one of her kids, so sorry, Nick, but apparently it's ok that you broke your leg.

A little while later, she spoke again. When Mom speaks in anything other than tongues these days, you listen. It's pretty rare you can understand the words, for one thing, and even more unusual when the words make sentences. So, when she said very clearly, "I have to say...", Mark and I both paused and asked her to go on.

"I have to say," Mom said, "if this is Heaven, I'm really disappointed."

Yeah, Mom. Me, too. Thankfully, I think I was able to assure both of us that we're not in Heaven yet.

Monday, September 04, 2006

Taking Labor Day literally

I got up this morning intending to spend the day down at the kennel, but I hadn't firmed up plans with Sue, and though I left 2 messages, she didn't call me back. I had hoped to use Sue's professional gear to groom Angel. Instead, when it became clear that our plans weren't firm enough to happen today, I decided at around 10 this morning that I couldn't let the day get away without grooming her (Angel, not Sue.) She was a mess, and I really shouldn't let her get this bad. So, I propped the utility room door open to the back yard so the big dogs could come and go without bothering me, and I set to it. Angel is now clipped, bathed, comfy, and has been fed - you'll note the need for a quick wash up is immediate following her meal.
The other thing around here that was in desperate need of grooming was the front yard. Back in May, when my tractor broke, I borrowed a nice little push power mower. My tractor was in the shop for over a month. When I got it back in late June, I had to return the push mower. That was the last time the front yard looked properly tended. The little manual reel mower I bought in the spring is fine for detailing in the back yard, but it just doesn't handle the tough grass in the front yard, the leaves of which simply "sproing" up after it goes over them. And it's long since been time to replace my old Poulan power mower, which really was too heavy for me, and needed a lot of work. So, this afternoon, I went to Home Depot and bought a small, self-propelled mulching mower. I got a "yard boy" to help me put it in the car. That was the last part of the day that was easy. I had to assemble the thing ... wheels, handle, mulching bag, spark plugs - I got to know my socket wrench set fairly intimately before I was done. But I got it together, and the yard is done.
I would have done a better job, but the edge along the flower bed was an area I had to avoid, for the same reason it needs to be weeded so badly. See that hole in the stone wall? That's home to a nest of yellow jackets. I've quite nicely asked them to leave a number of times, but they're still there. Since I had a rather disasterous day of yard work not long ago, during which I lost my glasses (but somehow managed to NOT run over them with the tractor,)and cut my arm fairly badly on a nasty, grabby cane from a rose bush (which insinuated its thorns deeply into my flesh and then TORE it open before I could stop the tractor,) as well as having had a rather spectacular run-in with another nest of yellow jackets, I decided that cowardice could be the better part of valor. I'll see to the yellow jackets the first really cool night - until then, they may retain their veil of weeds.

Tomorrow evening, I'll drag the old mower, which still sort of works but is way too heavy for me and needs a new blade, out to the edge of the road. Around these parts, a sign that says FREE - STILL WORKS is a cheaper alternative than the dump. RIP old Poulan. You've been replaced by a Briggs and Stratton Weed Eater Self-Propelled Mulching Mower. You were a reliable old work horse in your day. Your day is done. And thankfully, this day is over for me, too. Everything is stiff, bruised, or otherwise sore ... even my toes. I feel a pedicure coming on ...