A Lively August

There was a minute there where most of Dad's family was in town for a visit. I haven't gotten to see all of those cousins in quite some time and what a thrill it was to look at their sweet Union faces. All of Dene and Michael's kids are in college now (which just doesn't seem right) and it was neat to see them turning into adult versions of the kids I remember. They're all like real people suddenly. 

I particularly enjoyed hearing about Uncle Michael's strange rearing tactics, now that the kids are old enough to reflect on such matters. These are the juicy things you don't get to hear about for the first twenty years. I wish they all lived closer.

Buddy also enjoyed all of the extra company and activity. 

Brett finished our big smooth dining room table. We elected not to cut it to size because we like the slab so much. We carried it into the house, Brett did a little strategic jimmying, and then we stood back to marvel. It's too big for the room, but we still can't bring ourselves to cut it. Instead, we turn sideways to squeeze by when needed. We think it's worth it. 

We now eat dinner at a table like a real family. Brett eats all three of his meals at the table most days. We put it straight to work with a celebratory dinner party and then I moved into one end of it with my books and papers and laptop, while Brett spread out his latest construction plans for work on the other end and it turned out we needed all eight feet of it. 

At last weekend's wedding, Mom and I got stuck in the rain while we made this tropical arch display. Mom had the great idea to wrap up in towels we found by the hotel pool but we both felt foolish out there; decorating in a storm like everything was fine. 

It stopped raining in time for the ceremony. 

I have a good number of "succulent" weddings each year, and after those parties I take all of the disregarded succulents that the bride just had to have and I toss them into a few wooden planters to give them the illusion that I will be tending to them. I know they are trendy and "low-maintenance" but I can't keep succulents alive. I think they are fussy and unreasonable. The succulent death toll in this house must be close to one hundred. In March, I moved the succulent coffins to one side of the house under a tree and by golly the little squirts are growing. One of them has even flowered. 

As for the girls, Grace has been thoroughly enjoying her summer and requesting extra cuddles from me in the morning. Brett and I have wondered if she has early onset dementia. 

Pippa has been able to decrease her medicine to a much lower dose and this has resulted in a slight upswing of her bad mood. With a little effort, we can get her excited to play for a few minutes but that's about it. I miss my happy loving girl. She got a good report from the vet this past Friday, so we can drop her dosage one more time and if she can hold a healthy platelet count for a few weeks, she may be able to move to medicine that doesn't make her so grumpy.

She no longer wants to cuddle with me and when I pull her up to snuggle, she gives me her butt.

After weeks of toiling and procrastinating, I finally translated the newspaper man's musings into a cheeky article about the beaches here in town. You can read it here. 

Meanwhile, at the Barton household, Covid has struck. Stricken? Lee went down first, Liv followed, and Ellen brought up the rear. They are all on the up and up now. Livvy was only sick for one day and Lee is just about back to normal. Ellen is still breathing like fatty but yesterday she decided she turned a corner. We haven't seen any of them since they tested positive. I did drop off groceries for them one day and Ellen stood lugubriously in the glass door like a creature in a zoo exhibit. 

We've got a few fun things coming up as I readjust to working on a weekly basis. I've enjoyed a full month of aimless wallowing. I'll tell you what sorts of things I've been thinking about in my next post. 

It's A Boy!

Ellen and Lee are stoked to announce Nicholas Russell Barton (name not confirmed) coming February 19, 2022 (date not confirmed).

Wish you could have heard the meltdown that took place the night before Ellen found out. It was a truly epic cataclysm of emotion. I did my best to console the inconsolable and then the next morning she showed up grinning from ear to ear. 

Ellen and Lee are bedside themselves about it. Lee's preparing for his new fishing buddy. Ellen is preparing for nonstop action. Olivia is entirely indifferent. 

Up To Brevard

Brett and I ventured to Brevard, NC last week for his family vacation. Clint and Susie found an exciting mountain cabin on a lake, and beat everyone there on Monday afternoon. Jeff, August, and Julian came next, and Brett and I pulled in at suppertime. Julian just turned 5 and August was counting down the days to his 7th birthday which was yesterday, I think. After a bit of mountain porch sittin', we all had spaghetti and were in bed by 9:00. 
Age is a funny thing.

Day 1: Ah, the unbridled enthusiasm of small children on the first day of mountain exploration. (I woke up most days to excited shrieking.) The day started at the fishing pond. Brett, Clint, and I took August and Julian down the driveway to the trout pond. I'm happy to tell you that the fellas did catch fish but they all swallowed the hooks and died. (The fish, not the fellas.) Clint felt real bad about it. We tossed them back into the water, you know - circle of life - but later read something that told us not to do that. It made Clint and me feel worse. 

The fellas started most of the mornings down at the pond - Brett and Clint in particular. The boys would usually come too, but then they'd have to poop and go running back up to the house. I'd wander down to sit on the little bench swing and take picutres of the flowers. It was wonderfully nippy up there. A chilly fun change from our hot August. I rotated between pretending I was in Scotland and Canada.

Susie arrived to Brevard with a snotty cold and spent most of her time sneezing and sniffling. We all felt bad for her. She did join us for a venture into Downtown were we ate lunch at a slow moving food truck, shopped for rain coats, and found a great little coffee shop. Jeff let August and Juju share a Pepsi at lunch and the sugar hit very quickly. Then Susan gave them a cappuccino and all hell broke loose. Clint convinced them that sitting very still and mediating would make them levitate. It worked for a few minutes. 

Shortly after, we wound up in an antique store full of expensive, breakable things and the children were like sticky missiles, narrowly missing glass lamps, and picking up old kitchen utensils and clanging them together like swords. Brett finally snapped at them in a dad-like fashion and all three of us looked up at Uncle Brett with horror. "You cut that out!" he snarled, quiet but firm. "You can't act like that in here. Go sit outside." They ran off giggling but I stared in amazement. I have never seen him bark at anyone. Ever.

We came home for naps and emails. Bubbs and I made supper and then introduced the family to Pig. It was big hit with August and Julian. August became rudely competitive while Julian preferred to soak his fingers in his mouth inbetween turns, lending the dice a refined dampness one simply can't find in those of public establishments.

Day 2: Lots of sniffling and sneezing in the house. We began this day with a short hike that August and Juju ran four or five times in the time it took us to climb up and back down again once. 

While Clint and Brett headed back to the pond for fishing, Jeff and I sat for one of our therapeutic chats. He and I are so different you see. He is all motivated to succeed, feels duty bound to tradition, and values the rewards of hard work. I'm unimpressed by societal success, feel I owe nothing to anyone, and can't really come up with a good reason to spend a beautiful day on temporary things, like invoices. So Jeff asks me lots of inner peace and relationship questions while I absorb his concepts of having goals and strategies for things I may want in the future. Even he became a little indifferent once I couldn't come up with something big I wanted to buy someday. "What about a nice car? Do you want to drive a Porsche by 40 years old? Set a financial goal."

"But don't you ever drive by someone in a really expensive car and wonder what insecurity made their priorities go all wonky? I feel sad for people in expensive cars."

"Tell me more about that," he'll say, and then later he'll give me three or four valid reasons that a person might just want the more comfortable commuting experience of a nice car.

We found out about a year ago that we're a good match for meaty conversations, so we used the assorted wooden porches of this trip as settings for our musings. Brett often joins in with his ethics based and heavily researched opinions, but when it gets to relationship stuff he bails out. The truth is so unromantic isn't it?

For lunch we went to a Mexican restaurant where August and Julian were mistaken for my children and the concept made me panicky. "No! No no, those aren't mine!"

I foolishly gave Juju a ride on my shoulders as we walked back to the car and then he wouldn't go anywhere without insisting on being carried - preferably on the shoulders.

Later that day, Clint accidentally picked his teeth with his soapy fingers and my laughter was uncontainable.

We had another afternoon of naps and emails before Jeff seared some tuna steaks for supper. We played more rowdy dice and card games and got the kids all whipped up just before bed. 

Day 3: Clint, Susie, Brett, and I went into Asheville to visit the Biltmore. We had perfect weather for the scene and we milled through the house with heaps of other visitors. Susan's cold took a turn and she had to bow out a little early. She went and laid down in the car while we peeked at the colorful gardens. 

Before heading back to Brevard, Clint drove us around Asheville to show us where all of his best memories happened. We saw the little white house he grew up in, his best friends house, the place where got mugged once, the store he worked in, and the highway where he unintentionally took part in his first drag race - he was cowering in the back seat. 

Day 5; On our last day, Jeff and the boys packed up and headed home. We all piddled around until then, out of politeness, and then Brett and I went back to downtown Brevard for coffee and pastries. We also went on a hike up a bumpy dirt trail that spits you out at a little waterfall. There were only a few people on this trail so it was very easy to pretend you were wandering unspoiled wilderness with wild abandon.

Brett and I got back to the house just in time to do a quick change before dinner. Clint and Susie had made reservations at a place they've frequented and Susan was very excited for the meal. It was all delicious but Susan couldn't taste anything so she hardly ate and then we all felt bad again. Brett was afraid the waiter would think she didn't like it, but we were even more afraid for him to find out she couldn't taste anything.  Covid family at table 12! Poor Susie went home hungry and got straight into bed. 

We helped Clint check off the items on the Guest Checkout sheet. We did dishes, straightened up, and found lots of used tissues under August and Julian's bed. We had a final mountain porch sit and sacked out in our heavily quilted beds. It was a quick turnaround that morning. We stripped the beds, repacked the fridge into coolers, and were on the road by 9:00. Brett and I swung by the coffee shop one last time and then barreled down the road to see our pups.

Not Much Sleep

We recently rearranged our bedroom and the girls aren't having it. Grace's favorite spot near the air vent is now covered by a dresser. Pippa's ability to lounge across our pillows and still watch the activity outside is gone. In an effort to find their comfort again, they've decided the bed belongs to them. 

Below are accurate depictions of how I have woken up in the night over the last week. 

Brett sleeps just fine and it seems I'm the only chosen victim. I want you to know that I do push them off. I do! But they are pulled back on by some kind of magical magnet which I'm beginning to realize might be me. I wake up in the night because a foot or arm of mine has fallen asleep, and that's when I realize the beasts have returned. 

In Other News

Big Guy and I went to a real live concert. It was a thrill. They sectioned off squared chunks for four people and spaced them 6 feet apart, and I think that's how all concerts should be from now on. We had personal space and snacks! We shared our square with Alex and Jessie and had a picnic supper. It was a soothing good time. Brett and I attempted a public selfie and we both got embarrassed. 

"Quick quick! Hurry!"

Grace destroyed The Spite Garden.

Last week we had one of those nights where it comes around to suppertime and you realize that you didn't pull any meat out of the freezer for supper. Now between you and me, I've been cutting back on meat in general, on principle. Veggies are always my favorite part of the meal and when you learn what they do to the poor critters...
But instead of turning it into a spontaneous vegetarian night, we thought we'd run down the street to a soup and salad spot that we love. But alas, they were closed. They shouldn't have been. The sign displaying the operating hours would suggest that we were there within the parameters of their most productive times, but the lights were off and the door was locked so we quickly arrived at plan B. 

"Let's go to Edison," I suggested, a swanky-for-James-Island place just minutes from our house. We pulled into the gravel lot, giggled our way to the front door, swung it open and stepped inside. Everyone in there looked up at us. I scanned the scene. What a well dressed lot of people, I thought to myself. In the same moment that Brett said, "I think it's a party," a man in a suit seated next to the door politely said, "We're actually a wedding group," and then he glanced at the door and then back up at me. Brett had already abandoned the scene. I smiled at the man. "Well I'll just go then," I said cheerfully. It felt like a walk of shame back to the car. It's the only time I've been put out about Edison having so many windows.  

"How about Rutledge Cab," Brett suggested, "They've got milkshakes." So we ventured Downtown. Grabbing a quick supper after a long day was turning into another chapter of our long day. The parking lot was full and happy eaters watched Brett back the car into a narrow space. One man really started at us and I wondered if he could tell that we'd just been rejected from a dining establishment. Brett pulled open the heavy wooden door and asked the hostess for a table for two. 

"I'm sorry, we're full right now,  she said. 
"No problem," Brett said, "What would the wait be?"
"We're full for the night," she said frankly, and then waved her hands at Brett like he was a bug she wanted someone to get rid of. 
"Do you think it's you?" I asked Brett.

We got back in the car. "Maybe God doesn't want us to have supper tonight." We backtracked to a favorite from our dating years, when Brett lived just around the corner. 

"Must be under 6 feet to eat here," I said, as though reading from a sign on the door. 

"What!" Brett gasped.

"Just kidding."

We were relived to be sat on the patio right away. A spontaneous alfresco supper is good for the soul, if not taxing on the wallet. We had a great meal, but the two things Brett ordered were sold out for the night and the only burnt out lightbulb in the place was over our table. 

I'm excited to tell you that Brett is almost done building our dinner table. He's been out there planing away in our hot garage. There was epoxy and funny angles and a chalk pen ordered from Amazon. Our yard is full of wood shavings and Brett's fingers are bedazzled with scabs but just a bit more sanding and a waxy sealer stain coat thing, and it will be done. 

He's never done any woodworking before and he just... made this. He constantly impresses me.

We've been having a lot of our Sunday Dinners over at Ellen and Lee's house. Little Livvy goes to bed just before adult suppertime so eating at their place means no rushed eating or hurried small talk. 

I've just realized that I haven't taken any pictures of their new house. This one is all I have.

During supper last week, Mom threw all of her built up wrath at Dad's hairdo. His whole life the man has wanted a ponytail. Sure, there is a chunk missing on top but he's surprisingly open to the combover even though we've all told him that it's horrendous. An amusing conversation about Dad's longish hair turned into a marital skirmish with the peanut gallery offering commentary. Dad hasn't cut his hair in weeks. His thick black curls are longest at the base of his neck and with a little effort, he can make the tiniest little ponytail. Now, everyone we've run into thus far, loves the look. Dad has a dignified salt and pepper beard that makes him look like a Mediterranean politician. Everyone loves the beard. Everyone also loves the hair. It is earthy and free. 

There we all were, frolicking in the decadence of Dad's assorted head hairs when Mom spouted her disgust for it with vehemence. 

"Woah," all of us kids said in unison, stunned at such an outburst from little, sweet Nancy. She thinks he looks "ridiculous" and is too embarrassed to sit next to him at church. As though everyone doesn't know they are married. She thinks the hair is lowly or something like that and even though she made this clear, she wouldn't stop talking about it. Outraged laughter filled the room as we defended Dad's do. 

"I have to say," she started again. 

"We get it, Mom, " Ellen said, "You don't like the hair."

"I think it's handsome." I said.

"You hear that," Dad aimed at Mom, "handsome."

"I wish I could grow that beard," Lee admitted. Brett stayed strategically giggly and quiet. 

"Now now, just because you don't like it, doesn't mean you get to ruin it for Dad," I said.

"I ought to cut it in the night while he's sleeping," Mom suggested. 

"Your tongue is sharper than scissors," Dad said, and we all howled with laughter. 

The Good Stuff: Live

For the first time, I have made one of my juvenile video montages, but I have done it in chronological order. Mostly. 

This one starts in July of last year and oozes on through to, well, June actually but it's close enough.  Enjoy watching Livvy grow, the grass turning green to brown to green again, and Papa Union's front porch dance moves. 

Money Pit Pip

While I was in the Keys, Brett was tending to Buddy and Bobo as well as our gals. We have noticed over the years that Grace gets feisty when she and Pippa are brought to play with Buddy. The last two times they hung out with Buddy they got into a fight so we figure Grace is jealous about having to share her boyfriend. I reminded Brett to only bring one girl at a time when visiting Buddy, but Brett is a brave wild man and chose to risk it. And it was fine for two days. On the third day, Grace's jealousy got the better of her and she bit Pippa while they were all playing on the dock. 

A tussle ensued. Locked in the brace of the other's jowls, Grace and Pippa tumbled off the dock and into the water. Brett watched as they tried to wrestle with no traction. He briefly considered letting Pippa drown Grace. "Enough of this," he thought to himself. Eventually, when he saw no end in sight, Brett emptied his pockets, took off his shoes, and jumped into the water to breakup the fight. 

I'll fast forward. Pippa's bite hole wouldn't stop bleeding. Though we've both looped around to being supporters of the Don Hon DIY School of Medicine, Brett took Pip to the animal hospital. Stubborn as her leaking wound was, they did a blood panel and found no platelets. Healthy pups have around 300,000 platelets at anytime. In her blood screening, they found 2. Without platelets your blood can't clot which is why Pip wouldn't stop bleeding. The doctors asked to keep Pip overnight so they could monitor things. So Brett went home to Grace, who had been locked in the bathroom for the 5 hours he was at the hospital, and found a huge hole in her neck that he could hear air passing through. He drove back out to the hospital with Grace. They patched her up, and Brett and Grace got home around 11:00pm. 

I'll fast forward again. Turns out Pippa has an autoimmune disease called ITP (Immune-Mediated Thrombocytopenia). Rare but not shocking, the doctors tell us. Her liver attacks her platelets leaving her without any when she needs them. When your platelet count gets too low your body can bleed and bruise internally for no reason. ITP can be caused by a cancer, which our vet has mostly ruled out, but they're still testing things. That is called secondary ITP. It can also be caused "spontaneously" and this is called primary ITP. That's what they think Pippi has. In learning about all of this, we now see evidence of it in the past, which makes us feel bad that Pips has been "sick" all this time. 

Anywho, she stayed in the hospital for three days and and came home with a huge swollen face, a fentanyl patch on her back, and countless drugs in her little body. We felt awful for her but watching her stagger around and face the wrong direction and cross her eyes really cracked us up. 

We had a tough two weeks there with constant pill administering and keeping the girls apart for own peace of mind. The wounds from the fight were minor. In fact, the one staple holding Grace's neck hole together fell out so Brett jammed it back in with a pair of pliers and Grace had almost no reaction. She's incredibly stoic. 
While I wanted to blame Brett for taking the girls to the dock, we probably wouldn't have found out about Pip's dern disease until things got really bad. We decided we both win. Or lose. 

Now, were almost four weeks in and both girls are healed up and off antibiotics. While Pip was on drugs she was especially cuddly and she followed me around all day and sat so that part of her was always touching part of me. I held warm compresses on her swollen face (the doctor told me to - I'm not insane) and she understood that I was caring for her. My heart felt like popcorn. 
But now, we've moved through the fog of pain medication and Pip has turned mean. At the moment, the vet and I are doing drug experiments to determine Pips average platelet count and how much medicine she needs daily to keep things stable. Yes, Pip will be on medication for the rest of her little life. She's our Money Pip. She is currently taking a medication that makes her extra hungry and extra grumpy. So now she's following me around begging for food all day and it is SO annoying. If I get up and walk anywhere, Pippa darts out from wherever she was sulking and she arrives at my feet within seconds. 

"I'm just going to the bathroom, " I'll tell her and then she lets out a grumpy huff and stomps off. I've caught her eating Grace's food three times this week. If we are eating, Pip is there. She presses her nose into our legs, whines, and licks the air around us. She grew accustomed to getting a snack every four hours during the foggy pill days because each of her six medications required food. That part is over now and she doesn't get it. 

My little cuddle puddle buddy is missing. The medication she's on now is one that notoriously makes people (and pets) irritable and sassy. And she is. She stays by herself most of the time and doesn't want to play with me like we usually do. We start tapering her off of this medication today so I'm hopeful that my fuzzy friend comes back.