Where to start? The last couple days have been full of frustrations large and small. Monday afternoon my internet connection died. Consultations with the technicians by phone didn't resolve the problem by quitting time (theirs), and I had clients champing at their bits for projects which I needed to send to them via email. I couldn't be here Tuesday for a technician to come out, because I had a long-standing date with a friend and her daughter at the Oregon Zoo. Rather than being a relaxing outing, that ended up adding to the stress, as we inadvertently picked "$2 Tuesday" to attend, along with what seemed like half the population of the Portland Metro area -- in 90+ degree heat. It took an hour to drive there, and two hours to get in the gate.... This morning the technician arrived at 8:30. I needed to leave at 9:15 for an appointment, but figured 45 minutes would be sufficient time for whatever needed to be fixed. Wrong; I had to make several phone calls and reschedule twice to make it. But before leaving, while checking on the technician's progress on the outside of the house, something caught my eye under one of the firs near the house. Walking closer, I saw it was Ozzie, our old cat. I called to him, walked closer, and realized he was dead, even though he was stretched out on his side as if napping. I left for my appointment in a daze.
We got back this afternoon in time to regroup, then head to the Amity beauty shop for haircuts. I needed a trim, and Brian has been looking forward to his first crew cut. We walked in, only to be told our appointment was for yesterday. I was floored, and angry. No one called to save us a trip. Besides, I clearly remembered the phone call, and KNOW I made the appointment for today....
Then things started improving. I called my friend and neighbor about something else, and she asked if I was okay. When I summarized my last couple days, she volunteered to come over with her clippers and cut Brian's hair -- and she came bearing chocolate-espresso shortbread. Rick had a meeting tonight, so after I put my nearly-bald boy to bed and indulged in cookies-and-milk therapy, I sat down at my wheel for some spinning therapy. Then I went to the barn to do chores and calm my soul with some sheepy-love therapy (thanks, Brava!). Yes, my outlook has definitely improved, although sadness remains.
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This is my favorite photo of Ozzie, taken probably 11 years ago. We brought him home more than 17 years ago, a spunky, self-assured older kitten who resembled an Ocelot, hence his name. Good-bye, you grumpy old man. Oreo is lonely. We're all going to miss you so.
That's it for now at . . .