We’ve gotten The Paper off to the printer so have a few quiet moments to try and relax a bit after a rather hectic, though productive, day.
Some rambling thoughts:
a. Our housekeeper, Candy, told us she has a male dog that resembles our Trixie a great deal.
Momentarily, I thought about breeding Trixie to her dog . . . but then thought better of it. My first thought was that every female dog (I don’t like the term ‘bitch,’ though it is accurate) should have at least one litter before being spayed. It just seemed to be in the natural order of things.
But then, I decided, no way. The puppies would be cute . . . and I know me . . . and I know Evelyn. We are both waaaaay too soft hearted. After the puppies were weaned and it was time to find new, forever homes for them . . . there is no way I or Evelyn could give them up. We will have fallen in love with them, just as we have fallen in love with Trixie. Plus, neither of us would want to see the pained look Trixie would have as we handed one of her puppies over to a stranger.
I just can’t do it. Not equipped emotionally. In sum, I’m a wimp.
Most of the time, it’s Evelyn that takes Trixie for walkies. I pitch in three or four times a day, but Evelyn gives more care and attention to her. I get at least an equal amount of love and affection, however. (From Trixie. Can’t remember the last time Evelyn took ME for ‘walkies.’)
I can’t see Evelyn (or me) taking five or six puppies and their mom ‘walkies’ all at one time, with a handful of leashes. It’d be a little like herding ducks.
So, we’ll have Trixie spayed and forego the pleasure of having puppies to laugh with and love.
b. The other day, Tim Cunning, The Big, Red-Headed, Bearded Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer, and the one who rescued Trixie and gave her to us, stopped by to pick up a casserole that Evelyn had prepared for him. (A delicious concoction of sauerkraut, pork cubes, brown sugar, and other magic ingredients). While here, he held Trixie a great deal and petted her. When he got home, he told us his dogs gave him the third degree . . . Luke, his big Doberman, punched him in the chest with his nose and smelled and smelled, as if to say . . . “where you been? Who you been with!?” His smaller dogs did the same, sniffing and smelling his ankles and pant legs, and asking the same questions. I think they were just a big jealous of their daddy being with another canine.
c. Our little tyke is looking and acting more and more like a Terrier; she no longer looks like a chihuaha mix. Though she still only weighs 10 lbs., try telling that to my shoulder. More than once she has taken off so fast that she pulled the leash so hard that it damn near pulled my shoulder out of its socket. I think that little critter could pull a sledge in Alaska snow fields. Though small, she is strong.
d. We’ve had a heat wave here in Escondido, and San Diego County in general. 92, 97, 102, then 90. The day after the heat wave we had some lovely rain, which we have needed. We are at the end of a long drought and, finally, we may well go through our fall without any terrible fires such as we have had in prior years. Most of the trees, grasses and brush have a lot of moisture content so will not likely catch fire. It used to be anytime we had hot weather such as described above, and if we also had a Santa Ana (which is a heavy wind) we could forcast with almost certainty that we would be having a brush fire breakout somewhere in San Diego County that same day. Hasn’t happened this year. Fingers still crossed.
e. Our cover story this week dealt with “Orphan Trains.” Many of you probably never even knew they existed. I stumbled on to the story a couple weeks ago and decided it was a fascinating story that needs to be told. Meanwhile, Kent Ballard, that brilliant storyteller
is hard at work on a cover story, possibly for next week, that details a great many pioneer remedies for various agues and aches and illnesses . . . as well as modern, up to date, ‘recipes’ for tinctures, ointments, salves and other curatives that are often found within our plant life.
Knowing Kent, it will not be a textbook type account . . . but a folksy, down to earth account with a good share of humor thrown in. I anxiously look forward to reading it.
We continue to get many Letters to the Editor on Kent’s various stories. His “The Last Flight,” “The Blind Hill,” and “Roy Orbison, In Concert,” continue to draw raves, both by email and phone calls. We’ve been pleading with him to write professionally for years. Now, it appears that he understands why we were so anxious for him to write. The readers love his work. So do I.
f. Had a bit of a fright this morning. Blood sugars were waaay high last night and were still high this morning. Nonetheless, I went on the Kiwanis. While there, I felt faint and decided I should go to the car and lie down, which I did. Neither Evelyn, nor anyone else, knew I was feeling under the weather. When she came out to the car after the meeting, we went home and I took my insulin and medications and a nap. After an hour, I was right as rain.
But, it got my attention.
I decided I’d better try and teach Evelyn how to do what I do so if I do wind up passing on to the Great Perhaps she will know how to keep the paper alive and running, how to research and write a cover story . . . how to do the overall duties necessary to get the paper out. It’s important to me, and I think to her, that the paper survive after I pass. It’s just a damned good little paper. So, for the next several weeks, I’ll be working with Evelyn and training her the way “I” want it done. After I’m gone, she can do it her way . . . but at least I’ll have taught her the ropes. She won’t have the same “voice” I do, and that’s natural and good. But she’ll know the way ‘her boss’ used to do it. She’s done about five or six cover stories . . . but she still needs a bit more training. She probably won’t raise hell like I do, and have, but she’ll know how, if it strikes her fancy to do it. She’s extremely talented, that girl.
f. Evelyn and I went to the Lawrence Welk Theatre Sunday night to preview a Creedence Clearwater Tribute band. They were good, very, very good. But rough around the edges. That’s not a problem. That can be fixed, and fairly quickly. They were so good I’m thinking of booking them and seeing if I can make a dollar or two. We shall see.
g. Enough. Time to get back to work and start on next week’s paper.