Friday, February 6, 2015
We’ve been here almost a month, and have resumed our somewhat usual routines. I started attending a “Stretching and Strengthening” class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Truly, it has helped. My aches and pains are much more manageable, and I’ve made new friends, and reconnected with old ones. In addition to sewing and handwork made possible due to a LARGE gift of wool from my wonderful Mother-In-Law, my sanity is being held in check. I am working on a project for the upcoming Craft Fair. It appears to have taken on a life of its’ own. I hope to finish it, but if not, that’s the way it goes.
Dad has learned how to extract a daily newspaper out of the U-T San Diego newspaper box. Apparently, it was eating his quarters and failing to deliver a paper. I discussed this with the staff at the park store, and was told to really “shake the box.” I am pretty determined to keep my fellow Hag-mates happily entertained, so I demonstrated to my dear father, how this technique might best be performed. He told me he had given it some taps, etc. I told him that he needed to “shake the s**t out of it.” I am guessing my advice helped, as today, he came back from breakfast with a newspaper in hand.
The desert is the land of opportunity for Craig. He has found a friend to bike ride with and spends several mornings a week biking around. He is also riding around the desert with the ATV group and other times, driving his Jeep.
He is a happy man. I am not such a fan of these activities, and opt to stay in the Hag with Wiley. Dad occasionally goes with Craig in the Jeep when the ride will not be too rough on his aching back.
And then there is dear Wiley.
He is under constant surveillance by our canine and feline neighbors. Behind us, we have a cat, who is harnessed and on a leash. He waits for Wiley to come outside and then stalks him as he sniffs around, clueless to this cat on the ledge above him.
Across the street, we have a small dog. His owner has told me, he waits all day, by the door, in an effort to catch a glimpse of sweet Wiley, so he can bark at him.
Wiley has a potty break about every two hours or so, making this a VERY frequent occurrence as said dog barks him both out the door and when he returns. Again, Wiley either ignores this, or has no idea it is going on. He trots along, ears flapping in the breeze, anxious to sniff and mark all his preferred spots. Such is the life of this dear dog, in the desert.