Category: blahblah

This morning my dad and I canoed from the Kelley Point canoe portage down to the outlet of Bybee lake. I’d told my dad about the slough this summer and he brought down the canoe in case the weather cooperated. As luck would have it, this morning was beautiful and we got home just as the weather turned for the worse.

At the put-in, we ran in to a kayaker with a cool hand-made mahogany boat and after grilling him about that, we asked what route he recommended. It was at this point I realized I didn’t bring a map. Ironically, given my affinity for maps, my map-encouraging childhood, my map/compass training as an eagle scout, I rarely seem to remember to bring maps places. I look ahead of time, but either assume I’ll remember, or forget completely. So I drew a quick line map on the back of my hand from his nautical charts.

We started by nosing out into the Willamette to see the confluence of it and the Columbia, but didn’t venture too far because Barley really wanted to swim, and we didn’t want to spill. We turned back up the slough for roughly 2 miles to where a small tributary went between the Smith and Bybee lakes. We followed the channel up to and through a gauging station and into the inlet/outlet of Bybee lake and turned around when the water was to shallow, then headed back towards the car.

Despite what the map suggests is an overly developed area, the refuge and water meant some good birding. We saw a great horned owl, which was being accosted by some crows, several heron and egrets, a couple red tailed hawks, some mallards and mergansers and what I think was a yellow rumped warbler.

Barley was kind of bored by the trip since he didn’t get to swim, but the water in the slough isn’t….well… safe. But that doesn’t stop people from fishing in it. All in all, a great way to spend a November weekend.

Michelle made me wash down the turkey and rub its cavity with herbs because she was too squeamish. Now the bird is dry-curing in the fridge and every time we open the door a wave of marjoram wafts into the room. I didn’t even know what marjoram was until Monday.

Just off a busy weekend and we couldn’t be happier that this is a short week. Friday night a pod of Bellingham-ites rolled in to town and we threw back a few at Hillsdale pub, enjoying ourselves until after closing at 1am. The next morning we threw some discs at Lunchtime, picked up some beer, and then I went home to clean up before Joe & Lindsay arrived from Sacramento. Following that, we grabbed some pie at the Lucky Lab then really rocked the party (Scott’s birthday party, that is) until it was clear that we’re not as young as we used to be. Ah, youth.

Michelle and I painted the highlight wall in the living room this weekend a total of 5 times. The first choice of color turned out much brighter and lamer than we’d hoped and after trying to ignore our hatred of it for 24 hours, we couldn’t take it. I think my brain just shut down largely due to the orange. The orange (roughly #FF4500) was too institutional and I felt like I was in the gymnasium back at Glenn Livingston Elementary.

Between colors we went to see Storm & the Balls at Produce Row Cafe, which was freakin’ awesome. Curtis had been talking them up for nearly a year and we finally caught them at what he described as a slightly subdued version of their show. Still, it was freaking hot. (that was meant as a double entendre… )

Still, we had to return to that damn orange. I even went for a run with Michelle to get away from it. So we picked another color ( Hunting coat red ) that turned out to be the lamest gallon of paint either of us has ever worked with. It was thin, runny, and it took three freakin’ coats (we’ll see if 3 is actually enough in the morning) and looks more like plum-burgundy than hunter coat, but it looks nice so far. And I got a new Purdy 2.5″ brush out of the deal.

Oh, and we got the stucco fixed and the foundation parge coated. We paid someone else to do it, which turns out to be worth it because, well, it got done. And it looks good. And it’s done well. And Michelle still loves me.

After a lengthy stay with the vet, Tigger has finally returned home. He’s in good health and feeling no pain (Dr. added valium to the IV, it’s a powerful appetite stimulator in cats… munchies. ). He’s responding to being home, is eating and seems back to his old life with the exception of going outside. That’s not going to happen until we’re sure he’s back to normal. His final blood work should come in on Monday.

We’re both somewhat relieved. We were both sure that the old man wasn’t going to pull through this, but he has so far. And he’s made new friends at the vet’s. Still, he’s a bag of bones right now and could really use some of that muscle back. It’s weird to feel his hips and spine when he lays in your lap. Not exactly the cat that was feared in his old ‘hood. Barley is OK with it all because decreased appetite means more cream for him. We’re starting to think maybe the pressure of keeping up with Barley’s lean and model-like figure is what led to Tigger’s dramatic weight loss. Oh the pressure we put on our pets.

After coming home Monday to somewhat improved health, Tigger is back at the vet. He spent the night there last night because his bloodwork suggested his immune system was attacking his red blood cells.

We’re waiting to hear how the night went. He’s on an IV with fluids and steroids to see if the immune system would shape up.

This morning I took Tigger to the vet for some greater insight into why he isn’t eating or drinking. Michelle had to take him in to the emergency vet on Sunday because he was looking very bad. His eyes were vacant and he smelled. The emergency vets did a geriatric panel (every thing’s good) but his bladder was empty and he was quite dehydrated. He was given subcutaneous fluids but he still hasn’t drank of his own will. At near 17 years of age, and down to 7.8 lbs, he’s going to have a hard time bouncing back from whatever it turns out is ailing him. Good luck you surly cat.

Oh crap. I’ve become one of those people that *likes* fusion jazz.

well, some of it anyway. Very little sure, but still.

Michelle and I were going to go see David Gray with one of her co-workers last night until Ticketmaster called to tell us that the show had been cancelled. This was probably the first show in a long time that Michelle had picked to go to and while I’m not much of a fan, I decided I would just be quiet and enjoy the show without any of Andy’s ™ snide remarks. But it was cancelled. So we had dinner at the Blue Nile. Nothing like gorging yourself on Ethiopian food.

There’s just something unsatisfying about that cell phone call from your loved one when they’re away with some group and they can’t talk much because the groups is going on in the background and frequently requires their attention. The thought is nice, but the conversation usually makes you more lonely than before. Someone on the other end invariably notices the call and accosts the caller. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. We’ve all been at least one part of the equation. The caller, the receiver, or the haranguer.