Fall                      Waning Blood Moon

Dan the fence guy came out again.  This time we’re fencing in the vegetable garden, a five foot high fence and a taut wire to run along the top of the orchard fence.  Rigel is an expensive dog.  Really expensive.  A sweetheart, yes, but a major league nuisance, too.  The electric fence, I’m proud to say, has done its job.  No more escapes since it went up.

Kate and I reupholstered the couch this afternoon, the seat cushion.  In the process I thought back over growing up and could not remember a single thing Dad ever fixed.  I’m sure he must have fixed something, but I don’t recall what it was.  Anyhow, fixing stuff ratchets up my annoyed level to unpleasant proportions because I always struggle.  The outcome does not match the effort for me.  Kate, when able, has a different ratio of effort to outcome and has a much better time.

A good run with no trips into the city.  That makes getting things done here much easier.

Kate’s in the calm before the storm, but it isn’t very calm, at least from a pain stand point.  This kind of pain, constant and intense, exacts a psychological toll as well as a physical one.  The pain requires, demands attention.  That is, after all, the point of pain.  Hey.  You.  Pay.  Attention. Now.  That attention adds a level of stress to all daily activities.  Also, at 65 any infirmity at all raises questions of mortality, of fitness for life as we’ve known it.

This is the right decision at the right time after two + years of exhausting less drastic and nominally invasive procedures.