09:30 - 06.07.07
Catch up
Last Friday was forecast to be very hot here - in the plus 30 range C or well into the high 80 F. Ok very hot for this part of the world. It was obvious from the weather migraine as well as the heavy dark, lowering clouds that covered the sky by noon that we were in for a really good thunderstorm. Despite the state of my elbow - the size of a baseball at one point - every time I walked past the collection of quackgrass Ms Kitty would jump up on the chair and stare at me with her big luminous green eyes begging me to get fresh pickings for her and the tribe. After several pleadings - each becoming more dramatic I finally decided that the guilt factor was too much to let continue. I also took it as a sign that Ms Kitty knew that the length of tthe storm would keep us shut up in the house for an unacceptably long time. As I was dressing for the outdoors all five cats were milling around the balcony doors wanting to be first in line to nibble on their favorite delicacy. Suddenly all their ears were a-prick. I heard it too as I watched Ms Kitty back away from the doors. It was the hoot of a hunting owl, it was. I've seen owls in the daytime when in the downtown dear diary and recorded that in your electrons. I've just never seen them in this part of the city. Musing on the possible message I stepped outside and collected the cats' treat just as the first raindrops were starting to pelt down. Researched on the internet for a bit and decided it was likely a short eared owl. There are the small burrowing owls as well as snowy owls - like Hedwig in Harry Potter - but I thought that the most likely guess would be those short-eared owls. Going outside with such a predator about earned me respect form the cats, anyway. We have heard hooting a couple of times since so I guess that one could assume we have a permanenet resident status being established.
Saturday was a blur, trying to stay on track task wise. I don't think I managed to do much of anything. The pain from the double-the normal size arm just kept me crawling back into bed every hour or so so that I could gather up more energy. That was seriously hemmhoraging by that time. Sunday arrived first with a visit from number five son. He showed me two of the three scars created by his appendux surgery a couple of weeks ago. It was odd that there was a column in our local news paper by one of their scribes musing how lucky he was to be alive after similar experiences to my son's in trying to get help. Appendicitis is quite common among young to middle aged adolescents. It isn't in their heads but too many are discharged with a "get over yourself" verbal boot as well. More than a few very preventable deaths have occurred every year as a reslut. The internal investigations of the hospitals have always return a "couldn't have been foreseen" verdict but one of thesse days a major lawsuit is going to tear the lies away from the paper. Too bad it can't restore life to all those young people though. Culling the herd is what the provincial task forces always seem to say. I didn't know that one had to work at an abbatoir to get a seat on one of those panels. ..... One thing I did notice about my healthy looking son now that didn't make me all that happy was the new tattoo on his left shoulder. At first it looked like one of those water-soluble things - you know to wear at the Stampede? A bulldog looking mean and dangerous. Nope the real ink. He had started the process two weeks befroe the appendix attack but incomplete because he needed to recuperate first from his surgery. "Self mutilation" said the mother. The son was most pleased with that assessment. He is looking for work - now outside the industry he has been in for so long. Just needs a change of scene, he says. He left with his tax papers - from several years back and said he see us soon. Next up my oldest was due with his two children but my arm is very sore now. I'll talk about that next post dear diary.
�
�
