Silly Season

Gail Collins laments that she's not getting attention from politicians because she's not in a battleground state. Oh, honey, would I trade places with you. We lucky Ohioans have now been subjected to nearly 2 years of ads, phone calls, mailings, leaflets, candidate visits, television coverage, "man-on-the-street" opinion taking, and on and on. I suppose when it all ends next week with the election, it will all start all over again November 6 for 2012. I'm thankful for caller ID - no phone call with "Out of area" gets answered here. And yes, indeed, we get calls all day, every day. I think the amount of money being thrown around here is appalling - what couldn't we do with that baksheesh if it were being applied to social services, or better roads and bridges, or simply giving everyone in town a dinner out? Sheesh.

I think I've finally shaken the cold/flu/sinus stuff - no more cement in my head, hooray, and very little nausea. It's debilitating and it's frustrating to be laid so low by something so simple. Do we count it a pleasure just to be alive so that we can fall ill to such unpleasantness? I can certainly say I've considered the alternative and found it lacking but jeez, it would be nice to go a month without having something minor turn into something major. Oh well, better to be recovering than not.

My friend C arrives sometime today for a couple of weeks. Let's hope her winter coat that was left behind on her travels appears here before too many days go by - we had a dusting of snow on Monday, not enough to consider a "snowfall" but enough to show up on the newly worked ground in the next field. The old wives' tale about number of snows corresponding to date of first measurable snowfall makes me hope we get it over with early in November or early in December. Brrrrr!!!!

Tall in the Saddle

Now I understand the importance of "sitting tall in the saddle." Yes, Virginia, you can get saddle sores, and even little ones are unpleasant. Other than that I got home without incident on Saturday, unless you count my friend and sister M's broken rib from being thrown off on the trail ride, and my bout with some stomach flu that hit shortly after checking into our hotel Friday night on the way home ... At least now I'm mostly recovered from both ailments. And we haven't given up on riding; I think we'll take some more lessons and perhaps set our sights on driving lessons too.

While elderhosteling I was taken off Nexavar, just in case the additional physical activity led to problems with hand/foot. Nothing arose; we'll see if there's any difference in my scans in two weeks (I hope not).

Saint H is in Columbus tonight; we're continuing his one-night-weekly stay to save money on gas, and to save wear and tear on my sweetheart. I've decided that I'll have "movie night" here with the cats when he's away. Tonight we hunkered down with The Hunt for Red October, one of my favorite movies - I would guess that I've seen it 30 times but I always enjoy it. Duke was satisfied with popcorn (he's easy).

Spirit Willing, Flesh Weak

I'm at the camp I never had as a kid: an Elderhostel in Abingdon, Virginia, learning the basics of horseback riding. So far we've covered grooming and tacking up and basic riding commands - I can walk, trot, and post, woo-hoo! Today we learned the basic barrel riding pattern, at a walk thank goodness. I was to go on a short trail ride this afternoon but was striken with nausea from heat and sinuses, and so am preparing to stretch out for the rest of the afternoon.

On the whole I've had a lot of fun and am looking forward to a half-day's trail ride tomorrow, but I'm annoyed that my body has given out on me. I wish I had done this twenty years ago, before cancer stripped me of my strength. On the bright side, though, I'd held up pretty well until this afternoon; I'm not hobbled and stiff. I know for certain that I'd not have been able to do this a year and a half ago, so am happy to have gotten this far with it.

I haven't decided if riding is really "me", but at least I know how and I can ride if I want to!

Come Back Anytime, Aunt J!

Here you see the picture of contentment from Monday. My sister J visited last week. When she visits, the Dukester gets an inordinate amount of attention and brushing. J ended up with a box of carefully wrapped pottery from Peachblow Pottery. Duke certainly approved her choice of box ... needless to say he's missed both the attention and the box since she left here.

I spent a marathon reading session Saturday with Eleanor Clift's Two Weeks of Life. Clift chronicles the circumstances of her husband's death from RCC with that of Terri Schiavo, who died that same week. The contrast between a private, dignified death in hospice at home, and the media circus and nonsense surrounding Mrs. Schiavo's expiration, is compelling reading. It reinforced my hope to die at home, if at all possible, and strengthened my resolve to pursue hospice care when the time comes.