Category Archives: Life reflections

Memories and – memories – –

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Jack is late again – –

Every year around this time we were among the favored few that got an end of year letter in the mail from our dear friend Lindsay. Lindsay’s letters were reverse works of art; where everyone else’s holiday missives groaned with good cheer, his just groaned.

Wendy and I still quote what we consider the best line ever from his 2010 card: My sister’s house is sinking down a mine shaft. The council engineers don’t think they can save it.

 Everyone who received his Christmas Cheerless letters felt honored and we would all exchange comments about it wherever we were in the world.

Lindsay left us a few years back, but he will never be forgotten. So – to continue his tradition, here’s a few highlights of the low points of my year.

Dead Furnace

At the start of the year our gas fired central heating furnace died and it took a month to get a replacement, so we used our wood stove to keep heat in the house – –

Health checks

I passed out while getting ready for bed one night and had a whole host of health checks which showed me to be in perfectly good shape!

Scotland

We returned to Scotland in June and I got my first foray over the ‘Rest and be Thankful’ from Arrochar to Iveraray – wonderful views! And then we all caught COVID.

New stove

Our old woodstove had been cheap and too small so we invested in a much better and more efficient one. We also learned about using well-seasoned wood! The guy who took the stove out for us said it was a wonder we hadn’t burned the house down or asphyxiated ourselves on noxious fumes.

Storm damage

We caught the edge of hurricane Helene and lost sections of our recently installed metal roof. To my amazement our insurance company promptly paid for a replacement and local roofers did a magnificent job. We were trapped in the house for a day while they heaved sharp sheet metal shards over the sides of the roof. It was an experience.

Wendy

Wendy produced, researched and presented a series of radio shows that aired across the Appalachian states. Then the funding body cancelled the grant. She joined some of her writing friends for a couple of weeks in Mexico and discovered its health system was cheap and efficient because she had an emergency EKG. (She’s going to be fine.)

So there it is, dripping with Christmas cheer – or something, anyway. Fa la frigging la.

We’re sure that 2015 will be just wonderful – – –

Trixie’s Difficult Day Out

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We held our annual Hogmanay party last night, from 6-8 pm, to celebrate the Scottish New Year (which happens at 7 pm Eastern Standard Time). In preparation for the party, we vacuumed, did the dishes, hid a few items of clutter upstairs in the guest room, and got our wee dog Trixie a grooming appointment.

Trixie came to us via friends who had three Pomeranians and said she was not living her best life in company of other dogs. A lot of her nervous traits disappeared or reduced once she became Queen Canine, and since she was happy to be ruled by the cats, especially our matriarch Molly, Trixie fit in right away. She cuddled on Jack’s lap, slept on my legs, and enjoyed her new digs and lifestyle very much. As per protocol, after about two months of her living the high life, we figured she needed the matted bits cut out from behind her ears, and could benefit from a wee bath.

We kinda wanted to show her off, too, our new cute fuzzy girl, so we made her grooming for the day of the Hogmanay party. Two hours after dropping her off, the phone rang.

“We can’t touch her. She’s terrified. Sweetest little thing, never tried to bite any of us, but she’s miserable and she’s wet herself and pooped everywhere and we’re not going to be able to groom her.”

I raced back, and our poor baby sat cowering in the corner of the kennel. I put my hands in, and she licked me, allowing me to pull her into a shoulder ride embrace.

“It’s okay, Mommy’s here,” I crooned as she shivered against my shoulder. The groomer, whose name was Courtney, could not have been nicer – or more knowledgeable about dogs. She suggested that Trixie would have PTSD and associate this dark and dreadful day with being groomed, so from here on out, we should do it at home. Courtney wrote down what equipment to get and what to do with it once it arrived, and then gave Trixie one gentle pat on the head. She also offered to spray her with perfume, as our wee girl not only hadn’t been groomed, but now smelled like poop.

We decided not to subject her to any more fearsome treatments, so instead of taking home a powder puff in a Christmas kerchief, I carried our smelly, matted baby girl to the car. Where she cheered up immediately.

That night, our guests arrived and cooed over Trixie, who after a few false starts allowed them to pet her, licking their hands. I saw one of the guests give a quick sniff as Trixie passed by, and couldn’t help laughing before telling the story of Trixie’s difficult day out.

The guests began baby talking her, offering tidbits of chicken and little dog snacks from the bag we keep on the table, telling her what a brave wee soul she was, how terrible it must have been, but she was safe now, did she want another doggie treat?

We now think Trixie planned the whole thing. She enjoyed the party very much. So did her admirers, and so did we.