Damn Yankees

Okay, last night was just ugly. I will leave it at that.

I can only hope a return to the Bronx re-energizes our boy’s bats.

No . . . Judge . . . meant. . . loss.

Well, yesterday was busy and exhausting.

It began with a first of its kind (for me) experience at the gas pump.

I let the pump fill the Toyota Rav 4 (yep, from The Claire Saga) automatically while I checked my email.

And when it popped off, I looked up and was shocked to see, for the first time since I have driven cars, that it ended on a round dollar figure.

Of course, I miss the days in the not too distant past, in a very different America, when the round number filling my Toyota would have been half that.

Then it was back to Casa Claire to meet my dear friend, Tom Connelly, who stopped by to deliver Claire and Honey’s hay for the next 6 weeks.

Which Tom unloaded from his truck while this Tom then stacked the bales in the barn.

Then it was off to Murdocks to get wood shavings. I multitasked by spending the travel time catching up with a phone call to Pete “Buck” Sheridan. Relatively speaking, Pete was having an excellent day.

But my trip led me to another more aesthetically pleasing (no offence Petey) encounter with a lovely young lady named Wendy (like in Peter Pan) whose fetching 1940’s outfit along with her three equally interestingly turned out rescue greyhounds in the Murdock parking lot just caught my eye. There you go, Wendy, as promised, you made the blog.

Then it was back to the barn with the wood shavings,

Which had to be stacked neatly by the hay.

After a few bags of the shavings were first distributed in Honey’s sleeping nook.

It seems that despite the newer and more aesthetically pleasing accomodations in the new barn, Honey still likes to sleep at night in the old one, just like Mr. Rogers, with Claire standing watch at the entrance. Her bodyguard. So I placed a fan heater back in the old barn. Comfort during long cold nights is paramount. Especially since I don’t coat them until the days and nights stay in the low thirties (around Thanksgiving). You have to allow their natural winter coats to come in and it can still rise to the 70s during a sunny day.

Like my wife, Lisa, Honey likes to sleep in the darkest spot possible. Then again, I’ve always looked better in the dark.

After shifting the wood shavings, I filled the back troughs – which is more labor intensive at this time of year because I have to attach two long hoses together and then attach them to the spigot by the house, then disassemble, drain and coil them afterwards so the water doesn’t freeze in the hoses, Then I headed out front to deal with a ladder, Jack The Spruce’s (yes, from TCS) pine needles and gutters.

The good news is that the pine needles don’t really block the water from draining in the gutters as they don’t clump together like regular leaves so the water just seeps right through them and down the drain pipe. Still, when it gets to the point that the long needles stick out above the ridgeline, like tufts of my chest hair above the front collar, and enough ubiquitous leaf filter commercials causes Lisa to repeatedly bring it to my attention, I am compelled to get out there and clear them, like Spaghetti did at the McCaffrey Compound, each fall back in the Bronx.

All the while Claire and Honey spent their time out in the fresh air, canoodling,

enjoying a siesta together out back,

or later, when Honey was resting out front,

while Claire entertained her by playing the bass chimes on The Old Man.

Speaking of Lisa, her Shingles belt is finally beginning to heal,

and the painful blisters have receded from most of her palm and fingers and the upper parts of her right arm.

Damn that is a really long thumb.

Well, Lisa was getting a little stir crazy since she hasn’t been able to go out among the living for the past two plus weeks and no one – including the grans – could come by for a visit. So, given that Halloween is right around the corner, I suggested we visit the dead.

We drove to an old graveyard just outside the town of Berthoud towards I25.

As I wandered one way, Lisa wandered another.

I forgot just how paranormally sensitive Lisa is – indeed my daughter Jackie has inherited her witchiness in all of its glory – and when I looked over across the ancient headstones Lisa was frozen in her place, staring blankly into space and shaking to the point of visible tremors.

I literally had to help her back to the car. I am shocked that I didn’t film the event.

But being the callous prick that I am, upon her safe return to the shotgun seat in the Toyota, and upon her instant recovery and clear headed assurances, I went back to checking out the old headstones while trying to connect on another level with some of the inhabitants.

I was intrigued by seeing a “Wolf” family monument without the “e” prevalent back east. Lycanthropes perhaps.

I wondered if that Dyer family was related to one of my all time favorite mystical mentors, Dr. Wayne Dyer. Either way, it triggered him in my consciousness, which is always a blessing.

I was particularly moved by Rosie L Wolf’s headstone, which at first I misread to represent that she had lived a long fulfilling life of just over 100 years, but then looked a little closer and realized she tragically had lived just shy of a week. Two of her siblings were buried right beside her. Neither lived more than a month.

Moments like this give you perspective, and I thanked the Universe for allowing my own three kids to live to adulthood.

I said a prayer for the Wolf children and then returned to Lisa in the car.

As we drove away, the now fully recovered Lisa made me promise we could return to the cemetery so she could go back to the headstone that brought on the convulsions. Atta girl.

The we drove back through Berthoud and watched a huge crowd of local families parade up and down the small town’s streets dressed in their finest Halloween costumes. Brought back memories of the crowds of trick-or-treaters that visited the McCaffrey Compound in Halloweens past. It remains my absolutely favorite Holiday.

Well, today has a few more chores, including food shopping and prepping.

But first I have kittied to cuddle and rounds to make.

I hope you fine, five readers had a wonderful fall day wherever you are, and that you can invoke God’s day of rest get out of jail card to relax and enjoy whatever floats your boat.

And whatever else we get up to, let us make today a great one.

And one final note, my condolences to Brian Downey and his family over the loss of his mother, Geri. She was a fantastic Riverdale neighbor, and a wonderful woman with a great sense of humor and an easy smile. I’m sure she’s still looking out for your exceptional Clan. Prayers sent.