Remember Me...??

I've spent the last several days doing all the stuff that I put off or couldn't do while recuperating from the eyelid ordeal.  Two weeks of backlog meant that I had my hands full playing catch up and running errands and doing a multitude of house and garden chores.  I did manage to squeak in a bit of writing, some photography, and reading a novella--didn't have time for a whole book--and now I'm pretty much back on track.  Though...chores are like pulling weeds: they always come back.

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The weather has been hot and weird, which is becoming less strange and more common.  Over the weekend it got up to 83* and yesterday was warm enough to make my first pitcher of sun tea.  I don't usually get to savor my first batch until May or June, but on March 30th, I brewed a perfect blend.  I love sun tea.  However, I'd trade the tea for a long stretch of crap weather.

And speaking of...today it's raining like crazy, storms coming in waves, rolling down the mountains and across the valley, all black and fierce, as the winds whip the trees and scatter the new blossoms like confetti.  There are long periods of rain, followed by blue skies, then the next wave rises and it begins all over again.  The drama is a precursor to the schizophrenia of April and I'm loving it.

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I'm adding a new breathing technique to my yoga and meditations: Agni Prasana, or Breath of Fire. Years ago, back when I first became Buddhist and began meditating, it took awhile to learn how to breathe correctly--the opposite of regular breathing.  So the other day, deciding to incorporate some new yoga movements into my workout, I was intrigued to find two of them are done with Breath of Fire, something I was not familiar with.  It's a cleansing and energizing Breath that works for both meditation and yoga, and I couldn't wait to learn how to do it.

If you're interested:  Sit with your spine straight, head relaxed on your neck and breathe like a dog panting, equal breaths in and out, with your mouth closed. Take small, shallow breaths, like you're sniffing the air.  Don't breathe deep, your chest should barely rise and fall.  Five minutes a day to clear your mind, energize your body.

There are three levels to Breath of Fire.  The beginner's level is the one above.  Intermediate is faster, deeper breaths, and advanced is really vigorous.  At this point, I would pass out doing the advanced level, so I'll have to work up to it or spend my meditation time unconscious.  Some days that's not a bad idea...

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So far today I've walked the boys at the park, been to the vet's for more of Ozzy's meds, went grocery shopping, got my hair cut, gave a list of treats I want to my neighbor, the Englishman, who is off to London on Friday, did the laundry, made the coolest Easter cookies (tomorrow's post) and now I'm finally going to sit down and watch The Hobbit, Battle of the Five Armies, which was on sale at the store.

Last day of March, peeps.  Wine is in order, I think...

Limbo

Spring should be called Limbo.  It's really a time of waiting: for the weather to settle, for blooms and blossoms to color the world again, for the moment we can shed layers of warm clothes for airy, lightweight ones, anticipate firing up the barby.

I've been in a weird limbo of my own these past few weeks, not just because of the long, blurry days after the surgery thing, but also the constant worry about Ozzy's situation.  I thought all my steps to ensure his well-being were making a difference as he hadn't had a spell or any serious difficulties in close to ten days.  Then after a really nice, casual walk at the park this morning, I loaded Max into the car, turned for Oz...and he was laying unconscious in the wet grass.  I scooped him up, and after a few minutes of talking and coaxing, he revived.

Even knowing he will never get better, I still...well, I didn't get complacent exactly, but I let myself hope.  Because if I carried him up and down the stairs, kept him calm and relaxed, took him on short, easy walks, who knows what miracles might happen? Foolish ostrich woman.

I cried all the way home, then called my sister and cried some more.  I know what has to happen, but I can't do it.  Just yesterday he was chasing his little ball around the living room, now I should call the vet and make an appointment for his demise?  No.  I'll stay in limbo for just a bit longer...

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The first turkey vulture was drifting on the thermals this morning.  I love watching those enormous birds riding the high currents, rarely flapping their wings as they soar across the valley, over the forests. Though I've only seen the one so far, it's weeks too early for any of them to be here already.

Tomorrow is supposed to reach the low 80s.  In March.  I don't know what to say anymore about the screwed up weather--and I mean weather everywhere, not just where I'm standing.  Mother Nature is taking back her own, I fear, and we won't stand a chance.

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I'm going to spend the next couple of days with Mitch and Kate.  I left them hanging two weeks ago, Mitch shot and maybe concussed, Ace growling at imminent danger, and Kate taking charge.  I can't wait to see how Mitch handles that....bwah haha.

Stitches, Spring and Sighs

Well, that was the most boring and blurry ten days I've ever spent.  What do you do when every blink smears a Vaseline-like haze over your vision?  I couldn't read, write or watch TV, though I listened to my usual shows and a few audio books, imagining the scenes and characters.  When severe stir craziness set in, I made the font on my Kindle gigantic (about twenty words per page) and read until the gauzy obscurity forced me to give up.

But all the aggro and ice packs and ointment rubs have paid off.  I got the stitches out just an hour ago and the doctor said I recovered faster than anyone she's operated on.  Woo hoo.  Hope that means the scars will dim and in another month when I go back for the final check, I'll look good as new.  As opposed to now, where I still look like Sally...

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Happy first day of Spring, peeps!   Night and day are equal on this day and Winter is officially over, though the weather might not reflect that wherever you live.  Here, in southern Oregon, it's been too warm, too soon, with hardly a drop of rain to speak of in months.  I can't imagine what Summer will be like this year, in yet another long season of drought, especially as the rivers right now are at July levels, which doesn't bode well either.

And I heard the other day that California will be out of water in less than a year if they don't get rain. Think about that...a state the size and population of California, without water.  And that's before the Santa Ana winds and firestorms begin raging, requiring copious amounts of water to fight off the infernos.

My dreams are already tugging me north, calling me home:  Alaska, the land of ice and snow...

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Ozzy's doing okay, though he had a terrible episode the other day that I thought was definitely going to finish him off.  Somehow he manages to come back from the brink and carry on, but I'm not sure how. Though his spells are horrific, otherwise he's doing fine.  He eats really well, plays with his toys, wants to take his walks and isn't in any kind of pain.  If it weren't for his failing heart, he'd be good.

Sigh...

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So, come Monday, it's back to business as usual now that I'm able to see again.  There are a multitude of chores and errands that have been on hold since last week, books are calling my name, and I have the next chapter in my story to write.

Guess I'd better enjoy the weekend then...

Dubious Claim To Fame

You know how there are people who resemble movie stars and other famous characters?  I realized this week, what with the stitches and stuff, that I am one of those folks.

I've got a call in to Tim Burton...

I don't feel half-bad today. The swelling has gone down a lot, although that's also exposing the true magnitude of the stitches, clearly making me look like *Sally, but all things considered...I'm way, way better than a few days ago.

Wish I could say the same for the Oz-man.  He's had two spells this week, so they're coming faster and lasting longer.  And are terrible to witness.  As I'm in no shape to deal with the Big Decision right now, I'm giving him lots of cuddles and treats while I hope he's got more grains of sand left in his hourglass.

I'm still having trouble reading and writing.  Not because of the surgery now, but due to the ointment I have to use on the stitches.  It melts with my body heat and oozes down into my lashes, which blurs my vision.  I had the stupid idea that I was going to lounge about for several days of my recovery reading voraciously.  Should've known that plan was too good to be true.

And speaking of blurry, I just blinked and now can't see what I'm typing, so...

Have a great weekend, peeps...

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* Nightmare Before Christmas

Holy 2X4 Batman...!!!

And you guys think I don't know how to have fun...

I'll be back to posting by Friday or so, I think/hope.  I can't see straight through the swelling, so no reading or writing; the thirty-plus stitches are already tight and pulling, so no sleep or getting comfortable, and hey, guess what?  It frigging hurts!!

Ah well, have a good rest o' the week, peeps.  I'll just be over there on the sofa, moaning and groaning and wondering why anyone would ever choose to do this to themselves...

Crumbs

I've been off the grid for most of the week, mainly because I needed to get my head straightened out. Too many tears, too much reflection, way too many sleepless nights.

Over the past few days I've spent lots of time with my wee boy--who, by the way, has miraculously bounced back from his near death experience of last week.  We've even gone to the park twice, and walked to the mailbox every afternoon.  It helps that the weather has been exceptionally Spring-like; warm and sunny days that seem to make everyone feel...I don't know...lighter?  The inevitable is still going to happen, but I've made my peace with it and just want to enjoy Ozzy for however long he's here.

It's hard to remember, whilst in the throes of heartbreak, that letting go is part of life.  It doesn't lessen the pain, or diminish the grief to know this, but I accept that life and death are two sides of the same coin.

Right now, it's enough that I can look across the room and see him laying on the carpet, taking a nap in a patch of sunlight streaming though the open front door.

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On Wednesday, I made one more attempt at the Victoria Sponge cake.  It still isn't right, but maybe with a bit more experimenting, I might get closer to the cake I loved.  Though, I don't know if I want to keep fiddling with a recipe that will never be right, or just find a new cake recipe and move on. And really, other than the Victoria Sponge, I actually prefer pie over cake anyway.

The cream and raspberry jam were oozy and delicious, though the cake itself wasn't moist enough. Still, for just a moment, I was home in my Edinburgh kitchen, kettle on for tea and a nice slice of Victoria Sponge ready to eat...

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Amazing that Daylight Savings starts on Sunday.  I feel like I've been in a coma and missed Winter. I'm pretty sure Halloween was just the other day...wasn't it?  Well, except that I have daffodils and azaleas blooming, and my cherry trees are covered in a riot of pink blossoms, no matter that all of this is at least six weeks too early...

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Next week I might need time off from writing and blogging because on Tuesday I have the eye surgery thing--another reason why I've been losing sleep.  Messing around with my eyes in any capacity just freaks me out, then add in needles and blood and stitches and holy hell, I'm done for.

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Time for lunch now, then I need to get the next chapter written over on the Scribbles site, and I received an ARC for a new book that I have to read and post a review on this weekend....and I absolutely need to find some space to meditate, and be in the moment.  It's the only way to keep the evil twin locked down in the sub-basement and out of my thoughts...

Blah...

My world has narrowed to the size of one tiny little dog.  Ozzy had the worst spell ever on Thursday night, one that lasted longer, with more aftereffects than any of the previous episodes, and when he "came back" he wasn't the same wee boy.  His legs wouldn't work, he trembled and quaked...it was horrible.  I didn't expect him to make it though the night.

But he did.  Friday he was still wobbly, couldn't even walk down the driveway, but had no trouble eating or drinking.  Saturday and Sunday he seemed to rally, and I even took both dogs to the VA for a small walk, though I ended up carrying Oz back to the car.  By yesterday afternoon, he was playing with one of his toys, though he quickly got too tired.  

Then last night I had an acute attack of insomnia.  Woke up at 2:55 and was still tossing and turning at 5:00.  Thoughts twisted in my head, churned my stomach.  When is enough, enough?  How do I make the call?  Know when it's the right time?

This morning I called the vet.  I told him what had been happening since Thursday, dread still clinging from too many dark thoughts in the middle of the night.  I won't go into the details of our talk, except to say I have the best veterinarian in the world.  He's compassionate and kind, and understands my total and utter reluctance to choose, especially when Ozzy's watching me with his big brown eyes as I'm discussing his demise.

So, after much conversation,  we decided the best course is this: if his next spell doesn't take him, then there's only one decision to be made.  

There's just no winning this one.