Mundane Stuff

I don’t feel like writing. I feel too empty. There aren’t any words in there. I am so ready to be done grieving, but I guess it’s not something for me to decide.




Writing sometimes helps me feel better, so I will give it a try.



Ranger is still ailing from the hoof abscess. The vet came out for fall shots, and Ellen had her check his foot. She found a pus pocket in his frog and cut it out. He is doing a little better, but it has only been a few days. Ellen is so worried that it is really something else. She has been riding Cole Train and Starry, but it’s never the same if you aren’t on your own horse.



I have been eeking out very fast, short trail rides after work, on Cruiser, but it won’t last much longer. I have been working with Cole in the arena. We are still struggling with the right lead. He is so awesome with the left—so that’s all he wants to do.



My sister and it started rebuilding the top garden wall by the house. That garden used to be so pretty, but in recent years, the walls started to collapse and the plants disappeared with the soil that got washed out. The top part won’t be so bad. Next year, we will begin the bottom part. That will be tough.



I turned the furnace on—but only to 56 degrees. Don’t worry—it will be warmer, soon. We are still getting mild afternoons, so the heat is only for those cold nights. Thunder has been very cuddly.



Maggie is now at large when I’m not home. I started experimenting last week, and she has been perfect. I thought she might be—once she stopped getting into things at night when she was alone. She doesn’t sleep with me because of the metal spiral staircase—too dangerous for clumsy dogs. Besides, Thunder needs a place of his own. I am so glad she is no longer locked up in her room. It was a nice room, but this way she has more windows to look out of—and how could she be a proper watchdog if she is locked up?



We have sold 5 cars. My Camaro is for sale, as I will be driving my dad’s Focus. I have someone from work bringing his daughter to see it this weekend. I wish my father would have bought me a sports car when I was a teen. I ended up buying my own—my first Camaro—a 1974. I followed it with a 1976 Rally Sport Camaro, a 1981 Z28 Camaro, a 1990 Camaro and then this 2000 Camaro.



For the first time in my driving life, I won’t have a Camaro. My brother is keeping my dad’s, and he said I could drive it if I wanted. It is a 1967 Convertible. I took it to a car show, years ago, and on the way home, both sets of brake lines blew out at a light—then a miracle happened. It stalled. I pulled it into a parking lot and it stalled, there, too. There was a payphone, so I called Dad. He came and got me and drove it home using the emergency brake. I never thought that—as it rolled through the intersection—me screaming and honking.



I am keeping the 1962 Metropolitan—cuz I always liked that car and it isn’t worth much money. Will we be able to get it to run is the question. Of all the cars, that is the one that has been sitting the longest. We won’t even try, this year. We have other things to worry about.



That’s about it. Nothing exciting. I don’t feel much better for writing, either.



Just a note for anyone who has read this far. Grieving takes a lot of time. Chances are, you may know someone who lost someone precious in the last few months. I guarantee, they aren’t over it. Please be kind and understanding towards us mourners. It isn’t easy, and healing doesn’t go fast. Just because you don’t think of their loss often, I am sure they do.