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Butch, amongst the oldest of horse-toys in southern Ontario, is working hard as ever these days. He has been the bearer of many important jewels, like the old and last family dog's license tag, various necklaces I liked and needed to display, and other sundry adornments that y'all might have read about through the past few years. Okay, such as old red dogs' dress-up collar and her Holiday collar, both of which went to live at kid sister house, when, after ORD passed, I couldn't look at them for a few years. Now that kid sisters' old golden girl has left us, Butch has the honour of bearing Millie's collar, too. Kinda hard on the old neck, and someone tried to re-arrange his tail. His neck has really started to shine, and not in a good way.
Check out his poll, and his crest. The creepingSheen. AND, his poor tail. I don't know who did that rearrangement, unless it was a certain naughty Flip dog. I have raised Butch up to high closet position, it's just safer for the poor guy right now. Those years flew by, didn't they? No? Well, they sure did for Butch.

I guess it's official, then. I'm in Old Lady Land. I always looked older than my years, but for the first time, it hit me. I really AM old, like, now. Get this...
I'm a Booster-Juice addict, it's a fruit smoothie franchise  that I "discovered" when Dad went into hospital 7 years ago. Love the stuff, and when my sign shop FINALLY moved out of the crap-hole it was in for 11 years, I was completely thrilled that a BJ (lol) was literally around the corner. Talk about pre-ordained, or something.

When I was discovered to be pre-diabetic, I asked the servers at BJ to make mine without any processed sugars, only fruit/yogurt. No sorbet, sweetened juices, stuff like that. DEElish. But I found that the servers on Saturday couldn't make it the same as my servers through the week, so I asked them to write out the "recipe", so I'd get the same thing on weekends, which I work more of now that work is so much more handy to home. HOORAY for run-on sentences!!

So, get this. There is a punch line coming, bear with me. Dad's in hospital, more on that later, if you want a re-run, go back a year, or two. Or three. Four even. I wanted a BJ before I hit the hospital, so I went to a (gasp) DIFFerent BJ. Asked for the same thing I usually get, but clearly, they didn't have the recipe even close to right. It tasted like crap. So, on the way home from hospital visit #7million and two, desperate for a BJ, I drive out of my way to get one from the place close to work. I ask them to make a copy of the "recipe", so I can use it when I am in foreign BJland. The server, sweet young light brown kid, very smart and quick, looks a bit nonplussed, and takes down the recipe from their notes board to show it to me. GUESS what the heading of my recipe was. Just, guess.

OLD LADY ON SATURDAY.

ayup. I'm the OLOS.
Amazing. Only yesterday, I wasn't quite so.

Some of you know my Dad's long and storied and etc. medical history. Just last year, he went through hell and back. He dun it again. That's my Dad. THREE (okay, 2.5) doctors advised him to postpone his surgery. Too risky, he's too old, too weak, too blahblahblah. Yet they couldn't guarantee that he would get the surgery in a timely fashion, if he postponed for a week.
Dad said DO IT. If they didn't do it, Dad was gonna die anyway. He pulled through with great success, and all us kids celebrate by going home and collapsing.
7am, the morning after the surgery? I'm staying at Dad's, utterly exhausted, and the phone rings, scaring the absolute bejebus out of me. It's Dad. He wants some fruit juice, and there are no nurses around, anywhere, the place is empty. In the ICU.
Uh, huh...
My Dad. He's always looking for his staff.
I tell him how great it is to hear his voice, and just to wait for the nurse, and I'd be there shortly. He says, "I thought you were always up at 7am?" I mention it's Saturday...
He calls back, at 7:30am, wants to talk to Stanley.
I hope my genetics can handle him;)
Love you, Dad. You're the toughest of the tough. I only hope I'm even half as tough. Right now, though, I am just the OLOS...

And here's the latest version of progress in our 'hood. I couldn't believe my eyes. However, I will simply post the start, and the end. Talk about "what on earth for??" Someone didn't like their view. Nothing like being able to destroy something that has taken many years to establish, and has built it's own ecosystem. Gone. Bam. Done. sigh.

And, many hours of diesel fuel later, voila.

Ya gotta love a desert. Or should I say, we better get used to deserts. We sure seem to like removing any life that isn't placed at our bidding. (Those of us with the money and power, anywho...)

Here's a pretty scene or two...
Feb. 9, 2013. Looks about the same now, fcol. The Cardinals have been singing spring songs since mid-January. I want to throw snowballs at them...

Hooray for the end of February!!!

Happy 10th Birthday on the 23rd, FLIP!! Sorry I didn't announce it on the day, funny girl!!

I heart woodpeckers

Get home from work tonight, and I'm out feeding the birds. Yes, I am the crazy bird lady, I hoard wild birds, when they come to my feeders. I've cut back on the number of feeders, and I've discontinued using the front feeder, where we had many bird crashes into windows. ANY way, I hear a chachacha-ing coming from above me, but the sun's wrong, and I can't see. It's more of a "laughing" sound, and I hadn't heard it for a while, and couldn't place the bird call.
A little while later, I'm inside working, and husband says, I think I just saw a red-headed woodpecker at the suet! All red head, white belly. A red-headed Woodpecker looks like this

and is like the coolest bird, ever. He flies with great swoops and flashes of those tuxedo-sharp wings, and his call is unique. I haven't heard it for a long time, maybe 8? years. And it's February First.

Which is the first time in my life, I believe, that February has surprised me.

As I walked the dogs later, hoping for but not getting further sightings/hearings, I remembered my favourite cartoon character of my yout', Woody Woodpecker.

A red-head, and when I remember his laugh, I'm struck by its' similarity to a real redhead's call.

Which is NOTHING like my laugh, but then, I'm not a woodpecker. Three blows to the head (or was it four??) was enough for me. First time, I was 11, and I leaped off of a stair-landing smack dab into the wall above. I was being a horse, of course. Second time was with the little hot chromey TB Nickey aka "Surprise Package", who showed me what stars look like when you slam your forehead into the horse's poll. Then there was the dangerous bay mare with no withers, she slammed the side of my head into a rock. No helmet. DUhMB, right? Then...? three times it is/was, what a charm:) The rest of my injuries were back-knee related. Those appendages are much easier to fall on:) NOT.
Seems my hands are starting to razz me too. I've worked them hard, and they took several (dozen) applications of pain over the years.

In other equally irrelevant news, things are also changing here. No surprise to me, of course, but I'm not an IBM child for nothing, I guess. I am always prepared to leave.

OH, and my Dad is going for a TAVI operation this month. Say a prayer for him? and the ICU nurses, because I'm pretty sure Dad doesn't /will never make it clear how difficult he is, post-op?! At least, I hope he doesn't struggle. sigh.

Things are changing here, but insides remain the same.

personal note
9 years ago, Joanie. Still missed. Thank you for Joyce, incredible how that has worked out. He had to ask her. And he did. Dad said it just "came to him". Thank you, Joanie.