Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, Mani the moderately tiny purebred border collie, filling in for the guy I live with, and here to bring you up to date on the latest news from our garden, and to talk about the guy I live with, some. You may remember me from such posts as “Of Orioles And Rain”, among so many, many others.
Here I am in a characteristic pose. Slightly leaning, but there was a biscuit nearby.If you didn’t seriously think there was a biscuit nearby, there was. The guy I live with says my pose here is “typical”. I’m not so sure about that.So. Stuff has been happening, and by that, I mean bunches of stuff.
The guy I live with stopped taking his antidepressant. He talked to the doctor about it, and it was okay. He had wanted to do this for quite a while, but “spaced it out”, like he says people used to say. So he stopped, after tapering off as recommended.
He says now he’s in a much better mood, though sometimes irritable, and sometimes feels weird, and misses the lady of the house a whole lot more, because everything now “seems super real”. I don’t know what that means, but I can tell that things have changed. I like the way things are even better now. They were good before, but now they’re better.
The south side of the house got finished, and there was even some planting done while I was at Day Care. (I got a good report card this time.) You can see the one post kind of leaning. Technically, the camera distortion wasn’t fixed properly, so some of the fence looks oddly bowed, but as we say around here, “Whatever”. The buffalo grass got kind of trampled while the work was being done. Then a couple of days ago the guy I live with got a call about a pre-diabetic clinic, because his blood sugar was high when he went for his physical, and the doctor wanted him to go to that, and you should have heard him when he learned that this was a three-hour class.
“A three-hour class!” The guy I live with said he could process a large amount of information in three hours, just like I can.
“Come sit right back…” he moaned.
“…and you’ll hear a tale ….”
A three-hour class.
So, in order to avoid a three-hour class, the guy I live with bought a blood glucose tester, read the instructions for hours, last night (that’s right, he read the instructions), and started testing today. Everything is normal. He said that the tests done at the doctor’s show the amount of glycated hemoglobin which shows an average of blood glucose levels over a period of time, and he thought this was because of too many cookies, candy, cakes, and pie, and that if he did the tests for a week or so, he could call the doctor and get out of the three-hour class. He explained to me about insulin and stuff. It wasn’t very interesting but he said dogs can get diabetes, so I should pay attention. He also says he has quite a bit of respect for people with diabetes who have to go through this.
He also says his finger hurts.
Well, that’s that.
A purebred border collie always has to be on patrol, you know. This is me looking at a squirrel in the grape vine. You can see the old pickets from the fence on the south side. The trash can holds potting soil.There are things happening in the garden, too, and since I’m being kind of rambly, I guess I’ll show them now. The colchicums are flowering. There aren’t any labels. I understand this is my fault.
Today there was quite a wonderful aroma in the kitchen. The guy I live with cut something open, and I thought it smelled excellent. I didn’t get any, though. This is the famous Rocky Ford cantaloupe, and I hear it was ultra-delicious. I don’t know why I didn’t get any, since I’ve been told that the first border collie who lived here, Flurry, loved cantaloupe. The guy I live with said that when he was a little kid, his grandparents, who lived in an old house in Los Angeles, used to have cantaloupe every day. (The supermarket was half a block away, and across the street; Western Avenue if you want to know.) He said they would cut it into special cantaloupe cubes, and sometimes even salt it, which sounds gross, but the guy I live with says it really isn’t.
The guy I live with said that he made up a hilarious joke which he used to tell to the lady of the house, until she stopped thinking it was funny, but he said she was wrong.
It went like this.
“Honeydew you think we should get married in a church?”
“Well, we cantaloupe.”
Whew, huh? His grandparents also had lots of bacon for breakfast, and just from hearing about it, I think I would like that, along with the cantaloupe. Sometimes scrambled eggs and brown bread, which comes in a can. His grandfather was from New England. The brown bread gets steamed, and then slathered with butter. I think that sounds good.
Okay, I know I’ve talked a lot, way more than usual, and about some things we usually don’t talk about, but I like to talk. I also think I should show you what I think about getting no cantaloupe, and then I’ll stop talking.
Until next time, then.