Sprinkles

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Father's Day

I have not been the best company lately, that's for sure. In one blessed heart-beat, I would have a For Sale sign out on the front lawn here. I cannot see myself living in this big old house until my last day on this planet, which could come sooner than one thinks given the number of scorpions and snakes that have been around lately. Not to mention the bitterness that sweeps over me every time I bring Savannah outside into the yard and see her shaking with fear when she looks over at the road.

When Savannah goes outside in the morning, she is the happiest of dogs... her tail is up and she walks easily around the grass without a care in the world. Her afternoon walk is just the same. However... it's the after-dinner walk that's heart-breaking. I am certain that Savannah remembers that night when she bolted and ran off because of the neighbor's fireworks. And no matter how charitable I can feel towards that neighbor during the daylight hours, all of the badness comes up to the surface when I see what Savannah goes through just to be outside before it gets dark.  I sound like a broken record with this, and no one knows that better than me. As I said, I've not been the best of company, not even for myself.

I've been searching for book editors, and doing research on 'query' letters. I have written out such a letter in long-hand, correcting and changing it, putting it aside and once again editing it.  I think I have found an editor that would understand and appreciate a story about a puppy written in diary format, with many entries written by the puppy herself.

Our illustrious handyman has been here for a couple of weeks, washing the house and removing bird nests that are no longer being used by the barn swallows. It's the nests that were attracting the snakes to our porch, I'm sure, and heaven only knows how many birds the snakes got in the middle of the night. My husband has killed four snakes in the past two weeks... our friend Cindy has killed five (hers were copperheads, our were chicken snakes). In my opinion, any snake is a bad thing, and not to be spared. I'd rather have field mice running around the property than the blasted snakes.

Life should be getting easier, not harder. Life isn't easy out here in the hills. Too many insects and critters, too many predators, way too much wildlife, not enough really good restaurants and bookstores, not one good shoe store (although there's no place to wear pretty shoes out here anyway unless you stay in the house), and no museums to speak of.  And that's about what I've been doing. Staying in the house, mostly. I'm reading a lot, and keeping my very bad attitude all to myself.

And today was Father's Day. I looked at old photos of my dad. And I tried to hear his voice in my mind. That's getting harder and harder as the years go by. Maybe daddy doesn't like the Hill Country either.


Sunday, June 12, 2016

Totally losing it...

...and losing it big time. I hate it here, hate it here, hate it here. And by 'here' I mean this godforsaken country bubble that we've called home since 2009. What in the blessed world possessed us to buy a house so far out of the city limits. Must have been a blatant stroke of insanity.  And it was me who fell in love with this house, my husband who fell in love with the property... and both of us should have had our heads examined before signing on the dotted line.

Just the other night I was sitting in my chair in the breakfast room, browsing on Google and looking for a literary agent. (I've learned that without an agent, one's chances of publishing a book are zero to zilch.)  As I was scrolling down the computer screen, I felt my blouse moving... odd... so I just flicked at my blouse without even looking down... and not a split second later, I thought I had better look to see if anything was there... and right on the cushion of my chair was a scorpion. And not a little one.

I jumped up, Sweet Pea jumped up (the cat was on the chair opposite me), and my husband came running into the breakfast room (he had been watching a ball game in the TV room). Gary killed the scorpion, Sweet Pea ran out of the room, and I cursed everything about the insect world in this entire state.

Along with that first scorpion, we've been having snakes on the porch who are attracted to the nests of the barn swallows. Gary has killed three snakes in about a week's time, and heaven only knows how many baby birds have been eaten by other snakes after dark because I keep sweeping up broken nests every morning.  And every day, I curse the wildlife that surrounds us out here.

Tonight was a repeat of the other night.... Gary was watching TV and I was searching the Internet for literary agents who might represent my 357-page story about Savannah.  And then I noticed that Sweet Pea was sitting on the floor and just staring at me... at my slacks... and his eyes kept moving up and up... and I looked down and there was another damn scorpion crawling from my slacks to my blouse.

I screamed for Gary and tried to hold the blouse away from my body... the scorpion tensed up and put his blasted tail up... but he stayed where he was and my husband flicked him off of my blouse and he landed on the floor, and then I used my shoe to smash the blasted thing because my husband wasn't wearing shoes.

Why is it that every blasted damn snake and scorpion and wasp is clearly in my sight or right near me every blasted time?  Honestly, am I wearing a welcome sign for all of the godforsaken insects and reptiles in the Hill Country?

After the scorpion thing tonight, I just lost it... shaking and crying and totally out of control... telling my husband that I hate it here, just hate it out here and I miss living in Clear Lake, miss the house that we had and the subdivision it was in... I just miss everything that we had and I could move away from this godforsaken property and never look back.

It's just always something out here.... if the baby goats aren't being slaughtered by the farmer across the road, then fireworks are going off on the other stupid neighbor's property.... snakes killing baby birds and scorpions in the house and tarantulas in the garage. I have had it. Just had it. I told my husband what I've told the ladies at the tea parties... that if anything ever happened to him, I'd be calling a realtor before calling an undertaker. Without a doubt, I'd be moving out of this house, giving the keys to a realtor and telling them to just sell it for whatever they can get for it.

After I stopped crying and shaking, I got out the vacuum cleaner and went over the rug in the breakfast room. My husband looked all over the floor and underneath all the furniture in that room. Even Gary said "What are the chances of that happening twice in just a few days?" (Well, welcome to my world.)  I have taken my lap-top out of the breakfast room. No more sitting in my quiet little corner for typing or reading. The lap-top is on the kitchen counter now and I'm standing up as I type this. I guess my next choice for a long typing session will be the dining room table or the table in the living room.

I told my husband that I've had it with living out here. I'm tired of being scared, tired of finding creatures in the house and in the garage, and I'm just tired of this blasted country bubble. I don't care how beautiful the property is, I don't care how much I love this big old house. I am just tired of it all and I could move out tomorrow if given the chance.

Friday, June 10, 2016

Friday stuff...

We've been getting estimates from roofing companies for the past couple of weeks. One man came here this afternoon after not calling back for nearly ten days. Are they that busy that they can't even return a phone call? And his was the first company I had called when I began this adventure. He finally got around to calling me the other day, he was here this afternoon as promised at 2:00, and when he was finished measuring the roof he left without telling me he was done.  When he spoke to me over the phone to make the appointment, he said he would call within three days of measuring to give me the price. As slow as he was to return my original phone call, I'm not holding my breath for the promised estimate.

My husband and I went down the road to neighbor G's this morning, along with Savannah. G has a five-month-old puppy that is wearing her out because she wants to play so much, so G thought that Savannah and Charlie would have a good time playing together in her fenced-in yard. So that's what we did first thing this morning. I'm sure that Savannah thought she was going to the dog park, and she walked right out to the driveway and jumped into the back seat of my husband's car, and off we went for the three-minute drive down the road. I didn't want to take the chance of walking Savannah to G's house because she is afraid of cars since her 12 days of being lost, and literally cringes and shakes when a car goes down our road when I'm out in the yard with her.

Savannah and Charlie ran around G's yard, playing with a ball and a tug-toy, and walked from one end of the yard to the other, picking up sticks and generally just being two happy dogs. Savannah even let herself be petted by G, which is unusual for her... she is normally hesitant to let people get so close to her unless she sees them on a regular basis. We haven't seen G in a while now because she's been busy working and busy with her new puppy and her other dogs (who are too old to be playing with the puppy). Being that Savannah and Charlie got along so nicely, we plan to make an effort to get the two dogs together as often as we can, considering everyone's busy schedule.

No fireworks today from the across-the-road neighbors, but they already told me to expect more for the 4th of July. Oh goodie. I can hardly wait.  My prediction is that Savannah will now get used to a very quiet backyard again, but when July 4th gets here, she'll revert back to her very frightened self. I'm thinking that maybe we should plan to turn the TV up louder than usual that day, put on the "Fido" channel, and let Savannah watch the dog and puppy shows.  She does that from time to time when I remember to turn on the TV for her... she will sit on the sofa and watch the dogs on those TV programs, and when they have a full-screen picture of any particular dog, she'll get down from the sofa and go up near the TV for a closer look.

About that neighbor over there.... she had given me her house key to keep in case of an emergency, and I had it here in the house for her in case she locked herself out again.  I took that key yesterday and put it in an envelope, and then put it in her mailbox after the mail truck went by.  I don't want the responsibility of that key anymore. I don't even want to look across the road anymore, for that matter.

I hate to hold a grudge. Such a waste of energy. And this is no longer about the fireworks... it's about the careless and reckless actions from the people over there.  Reminds me of that old saying--- When people tell you what they are, believe them the first time.  She has told me exactly who she is, and she is not my type of person. She will never be a friend, and I don't much like her as a neighbor.

Our friend and next-door neighbor from our old Clear Lake community called me from Colorado this morning... they moved there a couple of years ago and we still keep in touch.  V was fit-to-be-tied about the lack of good judgment from those neighbors.  I told V that she was the best next-door neighbor we've ever had, and she laughed and said "And I'm getting better and better all the time, with what's happening over there with you!"

When we first brought Savannah home last September, she was a frightened five-month-old puppy who had never seen the inside of a house. It took us months to build up her confidence and make her believe that we were here to love her, not to hurt her. All of that disappeared with the first M-80 blast from those neighbors on a quiet night in late April which sent Savannah running off into the hills and left me unconscious and bleeding on our normally-quiet road. For the next twelve days, Savannah was lost and no matter how many hours we spent looking for her, we felt as if we weren't doing enough. On the 13th day, Savannah found her way back home and we've been taking puppy-steps with her to bring her confidence back. My own bruises have healed, but my heart still breaks for my sweet Savannah every time I bring her out into the yard and watch her shake with fear when she looks at the road from the safety of our backyard.

For the past two weeks, I've been working on the Blog I started writing when we first adopted Savannah. I've been turning "A Puppy Named Savannah" into a book format, re-reading and proofing and editing and re-reading again and again.  The pages have been printed out... an impressive stack of 356 neat pages of typed words that tell Savannah's story. I've been doing research on literary agents and book publishers. I hope the same angels that guided Savannah home will steer me to an agent who will believe Savannah's story is worth telling.

Wednesday, June 08, 2016

Still more fireworks...

...this afternoon at 3:30 and just minutes ago at 8:55. And, of course, at both of those times, I was out in the yard with Savannah. Bad timing on my part. Horrible timing on my part.

So I guess this is the new normal here? Fireworks and firecrackers, possibly in the afternoons and most definitely at night? Every night? Every blessed damn night?

I came in the back door and slammed it shut. Not once but three times. It's an old wood screen door which has that squeak-sound like the door in that big old house in "Field Of Dreams."  Well, I can tell you that it didn't squeak tonight, it just slammed. And slamming that old door was as satisfying as slamming down an old dial-phone from the 1950s and 1960s.

I found it ridiculously coincidental that both times I was out walking in our yard with Savannah today, those lone firecrackers were set off. Those neighbors can see me out in our yard if they looked, but I sincerely doubt that they looked first. I think they're just idiots and like to set off firecrackers. They need to get a blessed life with better hobbies.

I was so mad when I got in the back door tonight that slamming it three times wasn't all that I did. My husband was in the TV room watching a basketball game and I loudly announced to the world that the damn neighbors were shooting off more damn fireworks, damn it all to hell.  That got my husband's attention and he came into the kitchen and I told him what happened and his first thought was the same as mine--- too much of a coincidence that two firecrackers were set off at both times I was in the yard with Savannah. He took my cell phone, looked for the neighbor's number, and called her up to tell her that both Savannah and I were extremely upset over the fireworks coming from her property. She told him that "her boys" weren't home this afternoon.  She also said it wasn't intentional that they were shooting firecrackers when I was out in our yard.  She can say what she wants. I wouldn't believe her anymore for anything because the bottom line in all of this is that she doesn't give a good damn about anyone or anything up here.

To top it all off, I just got a text message on my cell phone which reads:  "Last fireworks until July 4th in a few minutes... these young men (her son and his friends) are deploying to Korea, Guantanamo, Afghanistan, etc. in a bit... so happy to have them have a bit of fun."

I hate these people with a relentless passion. I cannot see that changing.


Monday, June 06, 2016

More fireworks...

Just as promised from the neighbor's text message this afternoon, more fireworks were sent into the sky at 9:45 tonight. I'm sure they enjoyed those blasts more than this afternoon's display at 5:15 when the sun was shining.

Tonight's fireworks lasted for about 20 minutes. Savannah was sleeping by my feet when they started and with the first blast, she ran to her bed, arranged herself in a tight circle, and started shaking uncontrollably. I had put the "Thunder Jacket" on her this afternoon when the first fireworks were shot off, and I kept it on her, knowing that once it got dark, there would be more explosions.

I was petting Savannah as she lay curled up in her bed, but she couldn't stop shaking. At one point, she was gasping for air as if she couldn't breathe. It was right about then that I wanted to go outside and put a "For Sale" sign out on our lawn.  I chose to comfort Savannah instead. So I curled up with her, right in that big dog-bed of hers, with my body behind hers, both of us curved into a comma-shape, and I put my arms around her and held her close. With each blast, Savannah's body shook, but she stayed right where she was with me wrapped up around her, and by the time the 6th or 7th firework went off, she put her head on my arm and her shaking lessened a bit and she was breathing a little bit easier.

The fireworks are over now, but Savannah is still curled up in her bed.  I'm typing on the table in the breakfast room, about three feet away from her corner, imagining that "For Sale" sign out on our lawn by the mail-box.  In my last entry, I said I did not want to hate the new neighbors. Well, forget that.  I hate them with a passion. A relentless, genuine, quintessential passion. Beginning with the night of April 27th, they have disrupted the peace of this country bubble up here in the hills, and my sweet Savannah is suffering because of their reckless and inconsiderate behavior.

The sheriff's office called back earlier this evening and told me that there are no restrictions against fireworks out here in the country. Unless there is a "Burn Ban" due to drought conditions, people can just about do anything they want on their own property.  The sheriff will gladly drive out here and tell the new neighbors that they have had complaints about the fireworks, but they cannot tell them that fireworks are illegal to use. So be it.  As I said before: I hate those people across the road. Absolutely, positively, hate them with a passion.


Give me a blessed break...

I am so ticked-off I could just scream.

At 5:15 this afternoon, fireworks started going off across the road. Again? Yes. Again.

I looked at my phone to see what time it was and noticed that the little light was blinking with a text message. The neighbor across the road had sent a text at 5:12, telling me that her son had Army friends visiting and they would be setting off fireworks. She said that she wanted to give me some advance notice.

Three minutes? That's "advance" notice?!   I repeat:  Give me a blessed break.

I didn't bother sending her a text message back. What I really wanted to text her was "Please ask your son and his friends to come over here and see how much Savannah is shaking."  But I figured that wouldn't do any good because they don't give a damn.

So this is what I can expect now? Every time they have out-of-town company over there, they will be sending fireworks into the air?  Even on a sunny afternoon?!

Enough.  I called the sheriff's office. I asked the girl who answered if fireworks can legally be set off any time of the day or night on private property outside of the town limits.  She told me that she would ask a deputy and one of them would be calling be back with the answer.

Fine. I'm still waiting for the phone call from the deputy.

I am trying very hard not to hate those neighbors. With each firework that goes up in the air, that intention gets harder and harder.  Savannah is afraid to go out into the yard at night... and now will she be afraid to go out during the day as well?


Sunday, June 05, 2016

Savannah

Since finding her way home from her 12 days of being a lost dog, I can see a definite change in our Savannah. That puppy who loved to go outside and walk has been replaced by a dog whose only mission outside is to use the grass for bodily functions and then get back inside the house as soon as possible.

During the first few days of being home, Savannah wanted no part of the path leading to our driveway, which leads up to the road. I have to wonder if she truly remembers that the firework explosions happened when we were walking up there on our road. To this day, Savannah still wants no part of the driveway and that road.

Savannah walks towards the left as soon as we get down the porch steps... her grass of preference is now behind the garage and in the backyard. She will barely even look down the driveway, and one can certainly see that she is on high-alert when she's outside. Any sort of noise will have her turning around towards the house. It pains me to see this dog so terrified of being outside, but I can understand her stress. She was lost for 12 days, somewhere out in the woods in our community or in one of the surrounding towns. We'll never know for sure, and Savannah refuses to talk about it.

I have tried making peace in my mind with the across-the-road neighbors whose fireworks sent Savannah running off in the first place. I realize that it was bad timing on my part to be out there, but the lack of concern from those neighbors during those horrible days is just unfathomable. Aside from that, I don't understand why they chose to set fireworks off so close to the road when they have 18 acres of property over there and surely going deeper back into that property would have been safer for everyone on this road. They have no idea how injured I was when I fell to the ground after those cannon blasts, and I don't think they understand the anguish we went through during Savannah's twelve days of being lost.    

Being that those neighbors were the ones who called me on the 13th day to say that they had seen Savannah running up our hill and dragging that long blue leash behind her, I thanked them profusely in person that Sunday morning, and then I called them the next day to once again thank them for letting me know Savannah was running towards home, which made us turn the car around and come back to the house that morning.

I never did give the house key back to those neighbors, as I had planned to do. I was given the key to keep in case of an emergency, but then after the firework fiasco, I didn't want the responsibility of their key.  After Savannah came home, I decided to keep the key if they ever did lock themselves out, and they never knew that I was set to return it.

And now, every day with Savannah going outside and being so terrified of this usually-quiet country bubble... it brings back all the reckless and careless manners of the new neighbors. No matter how much I'm trying to just let it all go, the fear on Savannah's face when she has to go outside is just heart-breaking. That same neighbor also set off fireworks on Memorial Day weekend, so now and forever more I'm thinking that any fireworks in this community will be coming from their property. Not exactly what I would like to look forward to.

We are hoping that our once-happy puppy will forget the trauma of exploding fireworks and being lost in the woods with heaven-only-knows what sort of wildlife. And I am personally hoping that this bitterness in my heart for those neighbors will disappear in time. Bitterness is never good.... it turns to anger, and anger turns to hate. And hate is just never good, no matter the situation.

Busy weekend...

...and we did have more rain, as predicted, but not as bad as they thought it would be. Which is a blessing for the Hill Country towns whose homes and businesses are somewhat under water.

The insurance adjuster is set to come out this week to inspect our roof and let us know how much they're willing to pay for a replacement. We've been getting estimates from roofers but haven't made a final decision on which company to use. The blue tarps on the one side of the house look Smurf-ish to me, but at least they're keeping more rain-water from streaming down into the kitchen. If you look at the kitchen ceiling, you'd never know there had been a leak. For some reason, the water came down on the windowsills and that was easy enough to contain. (We didn't think it was so easy that night when we had more than 14 inches of rain in a 24-hour period, but we also knew that other families were going through a lot worse because of flooding on their properties.)

Our handyman R was here all day yesterday, washing the siding on the first floor of the house. He's more than three-quarters of the way through, working his way around the porch, and he'll be here this week to continue. The mess from the birds' nests has been cleaned up, the porch columns have been washed, as well as the ceiling and all the walls. It looks so good that one would think we had just painted the house.  Thankfully, R has proven to us that he can indeed be reliable and thorough, and he washed this house as if it were his own. Both my husband and I were impressed with his work.

I spent part of the day yesterday re-arranging porch furniture and washing the covers on the cushions and the tablecloths. When Mickey Kitty walked up on the porch this morning, I'm sure he thought he had landed on another planet. That cat doesn't do well with change, and he notices every little thing that is moved. I kept him in the garage and the coop all day yesterday because I didn't want him to step into the cleaning liquid and then lick his paws. And I'm sure that R was happy not to have a little black cat under his feet as he moved the ladder from one spot to the other around the house.

Most of the day yesterday was spent reading and proofing "A Puppy Named Savannah."  I fully intend to try and get that story published, with hopes that either a Texas or Georgia publishing house will accept it.  I've now read through that entire story twice since I stopped entering posts to that Blog. I've tightened up some of the entries and elaborated others.  I'm proud to say that Savannah's story has turned into a 357-page book, and I believe it's worthy of being published. Now I just have to get a publisher to agree with me. Hope floats.


Thursday, June 02, 2016

June bugs....

...and I'm not talking about insects.

We've had different roofing companies out here this week to give us estimates on a new roof. Wonder of wonders, they all showed up when promised. Not surprisingly, two of the companies didn't even call back to set up an appointment. I just don't understand the lack of competitiveness out here in the country.

It's been raining here since mid-May when we went to Canada. It rained practically every day we were gone, and the rain has barely stopped since we got home. Everything from slow and ground-soaking rains to heavy downpours that made ponds and creeks overflow and sent livestock to high ground. At one point along the main highway near our town, horses and cows were blocking the road and had to be corralled by the police and volunteers, which resulted in the entire highway being shut down till the cattle and horses were safely away from the path of vehicles.

In the center of our town, one of the main streets was so deluged with flood water that the concrete just lifted up and floated away. The result of that is a dirt road which is now closed to all vehicle traffic. Heaven only knows when the town Powers That Be will get that repaired. I'm sure the small businesses along that street will be 'in the red' for the rest of the summer.

Savannah continues to be afraid of going outside. My husband has tried walking her up near the road and Savannah just about turns to stone. You can see the stress all over her face and I have to wonder how long it will take this poor dog to return to her normally happy self.  We bought her a "Thunder Jacket" which supposedly calms a dog down in stressful situations. The fabric is like a heavy sweatshirt with 'velcro' strips around the neck and chest to hold it in place. I've put that on Savannah when I take her outside and it does seem to calm her... the jacket fits snugly enough so it hugs her chest-- a very similar sensation to us holding her around her chest when she gets upset.

The fireworks on Memorial Day were the third set of blasts from the new neighbors across the road. They set off fireworks on Christmas Day, April 27th (when Savannah bolted and was missing for 12 days), and now the latest fireworks were after dark on Memorial Day.  Had I walked Savannah five or ten minutes later than I did that night, then we would have been out on the grass during the first of those fireworks.

Ten minutes after the Memorial Day fireworks, that neighbor sent me a text message, telling me that they'd be setting off fireworks for the next 15 minutes.  I sent her a text right back, telling her that I had just been outside with Savannah, and also telling her that she has no idea how our dog has changed since April 27th.  She also probably doesn't know how badly I was hurt when I hit the ground that night, but I left that part out of the text. She wouldn't care anyway, and the issue isn't me, it's Savannah.

Our puppy has certainly changed from the dog who loved to go on walks up and down our road. Now it's all I can do to keep her outside for five minutes at a time, even when she's wearing that Thunder Jacket to soothe her.  As soon as Savannah's paws hit the porch, her ears go back and she looks like she's on high alert, listening for every little teeny sound. This morning, one of the neighbors closed the door of his truck and Savannah quickly tried to hide under a large bush. The homes are very far apart here but the sound travels over the quiet properties and the slamming of that truck door sounded as if it had been in our own driveway when it was actually half a mile away.

Quiet properties. Well, all of them were indeed quiet until the new neighbors moved in. So far, they've broken up the night sky with fireworks, ran a 4-wheel-drive vehicle all over their property, and vehicles go in and out of their driveway every couple of hours. They haven't made that much of an effort to get to know the neighbors, and I honestly don't think they care who's living around them along this road. I hope that family is indeed happy within the confines of their own 18 acres because I, for one, won't be going out of my way to make nice and make them feel welcome. I did that when they first moved here, but with Savannah's 12-day experience of being a lost dog, I couldn't care less about them now. My husband says I need to let this go. Well, I can't. One look at Savannah's scared puppy face and my heart just breaks for her.