How to Spoil a Woman

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Yes, The Husband gets a little grief here, now and then. But, don't think for a moment that I don't recognize and appreciate my good fortune. I know full well that he spoils me rotten. I am a very fortunate woman. Let me tell you about one of the ways he pampers me.

For far too many weeks (since late September last year), I spent more time in bed than is normal for me. That time in bed wasn't restful. It was only to minimize the throbbing in back and legs, and there was many a sleepless night. Recently, I am doing much, much better. But, when my back first got really bad, The Husband began reading to me to help us both fall asleep. Although the reading certainly doesn't stop the aching, it is a most healthy distraction from the fears enlivened by the lingering pain. 

We began this habit of reading to one another, before we were married. Back then, we read several books this way—trading chapters reading to one another. These days, The Husband does all the work. I sink down to snuggle beneath the covers and close my eyes, while he does a superb job of bringing the story to life. The day fades away as he reads,  and the pain loses ground to the unfolding story. Soon, I am lost in the make-believe world.

Currently, he is reading The Secret Garden, a book I fondly remember from my childhood. Because I have long forgotten the details of the story, Mary Lennox's adventure is brand new for me. I doubt that I was any more enchanted by the book back then than I am now. It's a  pleasant way to fall asleep—whisked away from my own doubts and fears into a magical world—far from harsh realities.

Now, that is how to spoil a woman.

Please Don't Take My Pony Away

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Galen loves his toys and has many favorites. However, we weren't prepared for the attachment he formed to this one. Clearly, this photo of our puppy dozing in the kitchen wouldn't persuade you to see the stuffed creature, wrapped in the little puppy legs and held carefully in the mouth, as a pony. But, I assure you there were more clues in Pony's salad days. 

In case this image doesn't make clear the devotion Galen feels for Pony, let me tell you about the night Pony got a bath. Our first mistake was scheduling the bath late into the evening. Big mistake. The bath was a hand washing procedure and we didn't dare toss the stuffed animal in the dryer. No backup on this toy. Another oops. In the interest of caution, we elected to leave Galen's buddy to air dry. One can't be too careful.

Within a short time of Pony's disappearance, Galen began to fret and soon launched into an urgent search of the premises for his best bud. The agitated pursuit was accompanied by much low whimpering and an air of clear distress. In the beginning, we were somewhat glib. Having lived with dogs all my life, I had never dealt with a canine deeply attached to a toy, stuffed or otherwise. We both thought that the pup would soon be distracted and forget about Pony. Third and largest boo-boo of all.

Hours later, we were desperately trying to distract the now fully distraught dog and convince him that all was right in his world. We tried to engage him in play. We waved other favorite toys under his nose. The magic hat? Nah. Nothing. Sock Monkey? Pooh. Who cares. Even Foxy, couldn't hold his interest. Food? Phew! All Galen wanted was Pony. Freshly washed, but soaking wet Pony.

After a while, we assumed our pup would wear himself out and fall asleep. By now it was bedtime. No. We were sleepless in Bear Valley. All of us. For hours, Galen cried and paced outside the door of the laundry room into which his beloved Pony had disappeared.

I won't go into all the lame efforts we made to speed the drying of the stuffed animal and distract Galen, before we collapsed into bed exhausted and hoping for the best. When the long night finally passed, we awakened, exhausted, and dashed for the laundry room to end everyone's suffering. Suffice it to say that Pony hasn't had a bath since. 

Don't Get Around Much Anymore

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With his wonderful photoblog, Andreas Manessinger shows up most of us with a photo a day. Is he content with that? Nah! He further puts us slackers in the shade by linking each photo to the song of the day! If his images weren't so lovely and his writing so interesting, I would be tempted to call him a "show-off". There was a time when I thought I might keep up with the bloggers who post daily (you know who are), but I long ago resigned myself to being a part of the more erratic gang. Call us unpredictable.

As for the title, 'Tis true, 'tis true. I don't get around much anymore. True now, yes; but. temporary, I hasten to add. Still the current state of affairs have me combing through archives for images and inspiration for something to write about. In spite of today's glorious sunshine, my brain remains a bit foggy while my muscles are weak. With that in mind, this photo from last February seemed appropriate.

Not to worry, by the way, I won't be adopting Andreas' format—wears me out just thinking about it. But, just for today and with a grateful acknowledgement to Andreas, I went to a piece of music for a title. Oh, and staying true to the inspiration, I am obliged to include a link to one of the many fine renditions of this wonderful old '40's blues number. Enjoy.

Cleaning Up Memory Cards

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We were quiet here, yesterday. No party hangovers. No hangovers because it had been quiet at our place New Year's Eve, as well. We wished one another "Happy New Year" somewhere around Buenos Aires time, wrapped things up, and the day ended as early as usual for us. Ahh, party animals we are not. The tail end of my cold, flu, whatever, along with The Husband having a version of what is probably the same bug left us both a bit washed out at the end of 2010.

Not only was I quiet yesterday, I was downright lazy. I can't point to a single thing that I accomplished. If I were always that lazy, I wouldn't have any photos, or blog, or much of anything else for that matter. I suppose my batteries needed recharging after a brief burst of energy over a period of a few days earlier in the week. It was a crash-after-the-high episode.

On one of my more productive days, I had found some photos of Galen that I never downloaded from a memory card. This one was taken in late May soon after he became part of our lives. Of course, I love him looking all grown up now. Still, I can't help missing that round little puppy for whom everything was brand new.

While cleaning out those files, I faced the fact that I will make an exception for Galen and keep pictures that are nothing more than family snapshots. I almost never hold on to pictures that are mushy soft or hopelessly framed. I already have too many external hard drives. When it comes to photos of Galen, however, the rules change. After all, he's family, and he will never be that puppy again.