On interruptions and needs

This morning's 'routine,' such as it is anymore, was frequently interrupted by the need to step out on the deck and catch the progression of sunrise:

at this point, a quick glance over to the left to catch the action there

Soon after that, the quiet of country living was once again interrupted by hum and growl and clang and bang. In spite of all the boulder-clearing done before our new neighbors bought the lot next door, they apparently chose a house site on top of many more, which are being noisily grubbed out and moved around almost daily by a big trackhoe. I doubt they anticipated the need for so much additional work, time, and expense; it's been going on for most of this month.

Wait; here's a video. Turn your sound WAY up and you'll get a taste of my audio environment:

Sigh.

Growing puppies need exercise, and stimulation, and sleep. (The following were taken last night as she was winding down, and give you an idea of how much she's GROWN. 😳)

Healing puppies need to keep their splint as clean as possible, which means restrictions. Poppy's accident in some ways means 'adolescence interrupted,' which is hard on both of us. She's fully house-trained (except when the menfolk ignore her when she whines at the door). But outside play is SO much more fun than inside play (More sights! More smells! A cat!) that she has started whining at the door for that. I ignore that request at her training's peril, but I can't indulge her desires completely, either. So she's frustrated, and I have very little uninterrupted time to get things done...

...like exercise two horses more than I'm currently able. Lance needs daily exercise to help manage his equine metabolic syndrome (think Type 2 diabetes); Stella needs daily exercise for her physical and mental well-being; I need to ride Lance regularly to stay in shape for when Stella's finally ready to be ridden, 'cause that girl is athletic. Here she is during turn-out on Sunday, showing that 'baby's got BUCK':


The ewes need . . . something. (Wait for it.)


Fortunately, my husband doesn't need more cardiac intervention (except to do better on his heart disease reversal program); yay! He went to his cardiologist on Monday, who put him on the treadmill for a stress test. The results were so good that the doctor told him his chances of having more blockages at this point were less than one percent. Brian, on the other hand, seems determined to hack up a lung, so I'm taking him to the doctor after school this afternoon. (He's not able to drive right now because he's let a couple grades drop . . . again. Call it adulting, interrupted. 🙄)

I guess all that's going on here interrupts the temptation to focus much on how the norms and institutions of our republic are being bulldozed daily, so I will be thankful for that.

Sayonara for now from . . .