Friday, May 6, 2011

Still Lawn Mower Wars and Cat Kills

Round 1 of the Lawn Mower War was at 3:00 p.m. Joe had been quietly picking up sticks for a while. He sat down on the patio for a bit. I was in the kitchen cleaning up from getting some chickens in the smoker. The next thing I knew, from behind me I heard, "Hey, Little Girl, I want you to do something for me and go get me that thing down there's key." Damn he pops from place to place before you know it, especially if you don't keep your eyes glued to him.

"I'm sorry, but it rained last night," I replied.

"Oh, no, it didn't do no wet last night!" he told me. More degradation of language skills - double negatives. As he walked away, he informed me, "Well, we wouldn't be doing fine if I were the boss around here!"  Mmm, hung up on negatives right now, as I interpreted that to mean everything would be fine if he was still the boss around here.

As I write, he's sitting in his chair dozing.  I'm contemplating sending the doctor a Thank You card for the Seroquel.

I cooked Kale Chips for supper tonight, along with the chicken that I smoked.  I brined the chicken, and it was delicious. The kale chips, meh, they didn't go over so well. Dad wanted to spit them out. Mom ate hers. I piddled with mine.  They are all the rage right now, but none of us will put them on our favorites list.

I had a nice conversation with Jill tonight.  She's my relief valve. Sometimes I call, and she can't talk - we connect at bad times or inconvenient times, but for the most part, she's a lifesaver. I'd reached blowing up point after spitting out kale chips, lawn mower wars, etc. She let me vent, and I relaxed. There was a high point, though, when the cat tried to take a fresh-killed baby bunny in to Joe for a present. Poor bunny got waylaid in transit, spit out by cat, picked up by hand covered in garbage bag and deposited in freezer until garbage pick up day.

Oh, and the bunny was preceded earlier in the day by a dead bird, which was one of the things that added to my pending explosion calling Jill.  Dad had not washed his hands after handling dead bird. Shudder. Can we say histoplasmosis  or any other number of avian diseases?

It was not over an hour and a half after supper that Dad came in wanting supper. Sigh.  I gave him a chicken leg (he'd eaten a thigh for supper) and another helping of corn. He was happy. He went to bed about 8:15 p.m., took his new medicine like he'd been taking it for years and even cracked a joke.  This joking from Joe is a new thing for me. Losing social filters by the elderly can be bad in some situations; in other situations, it's quite nice.

Lola was sleepy tonight and in bed by 11:15.

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