ZOO YEARS 1962; 1991-97

         When I went looking for the photo of me and Haley at elephants, I discovered the three-ring binder I’d put together after I retired. It contains a variety of things, all of which are refreshing my memory of my years at Woodland Park Zoo. I should have multiple happy posts in the days to come.

          To begin, I’m not sure just how many of you are aware of my link to the zoo. I grew up in the Fremont neighborhood and the zoo was not encircled by a fence at that time. The only things that cost money were food from the concession stand and the rides in the lower east corner of the zoo. Back then, if you had a quarter, you were rich enough for a couple of rides, or just a snack. Boy, how things have changed since then.

          In addition, back then there were no helicopter parents, nor were we driven every single place we wanted to go. We had two good feet and perhaps a bicycle. In my neighborhood, the kids often walked up Fremont Avenue to the zoo, through the zoo to West Green Lake beach. If we were feeling really ambitious, sometimes we’d hike to the East Green Lake beach. Even more fun was wading out to Duck Island. Why didn’t all that muck and slime bother me back then? Now, I’d require a wet suit over my entire body to venture toward Duck Island.

          I have many happy memories of those jaunts to the lake, swimming the day away and the jaunt back home…at least going home it was all downhill. It was such a relaxed time and summer seemed to last forever.

          In 1961, I turned 16. I was excited to get a job that wasn’t babysitting. My very first job was at the zoo selling hotdogs in the concession stand. I don’t know of there was a public health department then that looked after places like that. I don’t believe so. Whatever chili or hotdogs were left at the end of the day were placed in the fridge and pulled out the following morning to reheat. When the stock became low, you simply added more chili or hotdogs to the pans. You didn’t wash them up first. It was at this point I decided I would never ever buy a hotdog or chilidog that I had not either personally prepared or watched being prepared.

Bear Exhibit 1960

          I only worked the summer of 1962 because I graduated high school the spring of 1963 with my Secretarial Certificate, so that meant I could go out in the world and get a real 8-5 job for, as it turned out, two different insurance companies, one after the other. I didn’t give the zoo another thought and didn’t keep up with the various developments and changes, i.e., fence, admission charge, etc.

          In 1984, I took a permanent part-time job with the City of Seattle Department of Parks and Recreation. It was only at that point I realized the zoo belonged to the city. My job was to provided administrative assistance to the Parks Department Planning, Projects and Development department. My first big typing job was for what was to become the Asian Elephant Exhibit at the zoo, funded by the 1985 county-wide Zoo Bond. When I turned the finished copy into the planner, I said, “This sounds wonderful, let’s get it built.”

          From that position, I moved to the Word Processing Department. I loved working there and it was then I met the Director of the zoo, Dave Towne. He came in one day in a bit of a tizzy. He had a meeting with some honchos downtown and the legislation he had was incorrect. Did any of us in word processing know how to fix it. Well, I had prepared lots of legislation for that first departments Capital Improvement Program guy. I indicated I could take care of it.

          Now, you have to understand this gentleman, and he was/is one, was also a bit of a naughty guy. It was also a bit before everyone got so up tight about sexual innuendo and all that stuff. Mr. Towne asked what I’d charge and I told him I wanted peacock feathers. I had no idea what his job entailed and just assumed he could go out and about before the zoo opened and pick up stray peacock feathers. I fixed his legislation so it was correct, and every time I saw him after that, we’d joke about the peacock feathers and why I wanted them. He finally brought me one shortly before I actually ended up working at the zoo for his second in command.

Typical Cages, 1960

          You have no idea how unhappy I was when my boss told me in September that come the end of 1991, I wouldn’t have a job. As head of her department, she had moved the money that funded my position to another location. It was so another person could have the assistant he’d needed for a long time. It was approved by the Parks Finance Department, but when it got to the City’s Office of Management and Budget (OMB), they said, nope, haven’t funded that position before and we’re not funding it now. My boss tried to get the money back into the position I held, but OMB told her she must not need it since she’d given it up. That position was gone as would I be come the end of the year.

          The one nice thing working for a bureaucracy is some of the rules they have in place. Since I’d been written out of the budget, the City had to find me another comparable job. There was only one…at Woodland Park Zoo. It was also permanent part-time in support of the Citizen’s Advisory Committee for the 1985 Bond Issue. Fortunately for me, the man (Mike Waller) who interviewed and hired me did like me. It didn’t matter that working at the zoo shortened my commute by 15-20 minutes, that I had free parking and wouldn’t have to rush about moving my car before the meter person returned to give me a ticket, I DID NOT want to go there.

          Zoo staff were welcoming, the citizens on the Advisory Committee extremely nice and the work was rewarding and interesting. I soon became comfortable with working at the zoo and eventually extremely grateful I was given the opportunity and took it. Four days a week, I worked in one of the trailers at what was affectionately called Camp David. The fifth day, I spent at the exact opposite end of the zoo working for the Supervisor of Maintenance and Horticulture.

I still laugh about what staff in that location must have thought the first time I turned up down there. I was clad in winter white…slacks and sweater and wearing cute little flats. At that point in time, those departments hadn’t been renovated and everything was muddy and filthy. The people in this department were out on grounds eight hours a day making the zoo look great. Mud, dirt, Zoodoo, they tracked it all in and about. And, it didn’t matter if it was sunny and warm or raining and miserable, they were out there every single day. I didn’t make the mistake of looking so out-of-place again and managed to bring a certain amount of order to the place before I went to work for Mr. Towne full-time in 1997.

When the 1985 Zoo Bond Issue, the first county-wide bond issue ever approved by the voters, included was a Master Plan that included a number of bioclimatic zones. There was Tropical Asia, Tropical Rain Forest, African Savanna, Northern Trail, Temperate Forest with exciting changes included in the different zones, i.e., the Rain Forest Café, Family Farm. It was up to the Citizen’s Advisory Committee to look at and approve any changes to the Master Plan. In some cases, a particular exhibit would require more money and changes would be proposed, discussed and sent back for more work or approved. Some of these necessitated removing or changing parts of the Master Plan. The Desert and Steppe Exhibits never came to fruition.

The Zoo Bond Issue was pretty much completed by 1997. The voter-approved bond issue provided $32 million. The Zoo Society had to raise $10 million. In the end, donations, interest earned and funds raised beyond that totaled more than $20 million for a final budget of close to $55 million, if my memory serves. I was the primary planner for the county-wide celebration at its completion. I thought I had kept a copy of the brochure that was prepared citing all the accomplishments and changes, but apparently, I did not. So, again, if memory serves, we held the event in September 1998, immediately after the national zoo convention in Tulsa Oklahoma.

I’m really pleased I had the opportunity to work on the huge changes made possible by the Zoo Bond issue at a more than 100-year-old institution. I’m especially proud of the fact that at the time, it was the first bond issue to be completed on time and under budget. In fact, it took a couple of additional years to completely exhaust the funds in Zoo Bond Issue budget.

Hopefully, you are enjoying my trip down memory lane. And, hopefully, I’m not getting too many facts wrong. Stay tuned, there’s more to come.

PAUL NEWMAN

          I ended yesterday’s post with, “Paul Newman.” Yes, working at Woodland Park Zoo, I had the privilege of meeting this man, great actor and environmentalist. Here’s the story.

          Stewart Stern was a Keeper Aid in the gorilla exhibit. He was a screenwriter who had retired or maybe actually lived in Seattle, Mr. Stern won an Emmy for “Sybil” and an Oscar for “Rebel Without a Cause.” He was quite famous in his own right. I remember watching “Sybil” on television in 1976 and being fascinated by the story and Sally Field who played the part of Sybil. It was the true account of a young woman who developed alternate personalities because of her mother’s abuse. Paul Newman’s wife, Joanne Woodward played the part of Sybil’s psychiatrist.

          Mr. Stern had talked to me several times about having a special friend visit and hoped that my boss would be amendable to providing a tour. As it happened, Mr. Stern made arrangements through me and with the gorilla staff to bring Mr. Newman, his daughter, son-in-law and two grandsons for a “secret” visit to the zoo. I was so excited when I made the arrangements with my boss and jokingly said I simply had to go with her. I then laughed and said,  “I know, that wouldn’t really be appropriate.”

          The day came and it was time for my boss to head for the gorilla exhibit. I reminded her and she came out of her office.

          “Grab your pad and a pen. You can walk down with me. This is the only time I’ll have today for us to talk.”

          Well, I didn’t let any qualms hold me back. I grabbed my stuff and my keys and followed her out the door. As we walked to gorillas, she gave me a number of instructions about items that I’d need to take care of that afternoon. Suddenly, we were there as were Messrs. Stern and Newman and the family. I sort of hung back. Mr. Stern introduced my boss, and bless her heart, she introduced me. 

          Somehow, I managed to not wet my panties, fall at Mr. Newman’s feet, throw my arms around him or ask for an autograph or anything else that would have embarrassed me, my boss, Mr. Stern or Mr. Newman and his family. When Mr. Newman took my hand to shake, he said,

          “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

          I responded, “No, sir, it’s my pleasure.” And, it most certainly was.

          At that point I was going to return to the office, but my boss told me I could stay if I liked. So, I stayed and watched the Newman family interact with the zoo’s gorillas. I also watched Mr. Newman sign the wall at gorillas, so the zoo did get an autograph.

          When we left gorillas, I started to turn back toward the office. Before I took more than two steps, Mr. Newman turned back from the group, shook my hand a second time and said goodbye.

          At that time, Mr. Newman was 80 years old. He wasn’t much taller than me and had that frail appearance that some older people attain with age. He may have looked frail, but I just know what was left was pure steel. And, yes, Mr. Newman’s eyes were really that blue and his two grandsons inherited them.

          By the time I got back to my office, Mr. Newman’s group had made it over to the orangutan exhibit. From there my boss called and asked if I could drive one of the zoo carts over. Mr. Newman’s back was acting up. Well, I’d never learned to drive one of the electric carts…dang it anyway…and this wasn’t the time for me to learn. I walked over to the Events trailer and asked who there could drive an electric cart. Of course, they all responded in the affirmative, but not enthusiastically. Then I said,

          “Paul Newman and his family are at the orangutan exhibit and they need a cart.”

          Well, everyone jumped on that, but the young woman who responded first got the job. It was a great experience for her and a much-needed lift for a day that had begun with some bad family news. We kinda compared notes after and Mr. Newman and his party were just as nice and friendly as she drove them around the zoo as they seemed to be when I met them.

          I’m sure, in fact I know, we’ve had other very important and famous people visit the zoo, but this was my one experience with one of them. I’m sure I’ll remember it for as long as I live.

ELEPHANTS

         Yesterday’s post was about John and the wild bear and AJ feeding Denali and Keema back in 1998. It made me think of all the special times I was extremely fortunate to have at Woodland Park Zoo. Because of my position, I very rarely asked for favors from the keepers. I knew how hard they worked and how little time they had to make room for donors and important people who wanted an experience in exchange for their dollars. The bear experience with AJ was my first and I’d been at the zoo for about seven years. I wouldn’t have asked for that except I’d done something for Carl (cannot remember what now) and he told me to call if I ever wanted to feed the boys.

          The next auspicious event was the birth of Hansa, the elephant. The entire zoo staff had been waiting and waiting for this big event. All zoo staff were told to stay away from the elephant barn when the baby was born. Chai would be a new mother and the elephant keepers wanted to make sure mom and baby bonded without any kind of activity that might upset either of them.

          When I went home the night of November 2, 2000, I knew the baby was on its way. My boss called and left me a voice mail at about 4:00 am, saying, “We have a baby girl.” I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get to work even though I wouldn’t be able to go see her right away.

          As it turned out, the Exhibits Crew had to quickly build a platform so the baby could nurse from Chai. They did so and Chai and her little one was so calm, word went throughout the zoo that we could go to the elephant barn…quietly and calmly. I immediately went down, the first of three times that day and each time I cried…tears of wonder and happiness.

          Hansa (she didn’t have a name then) was so unbelievably cute. One of her Aunties was able to stick her trunk through the narrow opening in the door. Hansa was absolutely determined to investigate this. It was pretty funny watching a couple of keepers whose combined weight probably didn’t match that of Hansa trying to turn her back toward her mother.

          A few months later, another zoo staffer and I snuck down to the elephant barn for an unapproved visit to Hansa, her mom and aunties. The keepers were glad to have us, but those in charge wouldn’t have liked us visiting. Hansa was growing, but she didn’t yet have any teeth. She stuck out her little trunk, grabbed my hand, stuffed it into her mouth and began sucking. It was and felt amazing. I went back down a few months later and was just about to give Hansa my hand again when the keeper yelled, “Stop, don’t do that…she has teeth now.”

          John did get to experience the elephants. In 2001, we went on a zoo safari to Kenya and the couple leading the trip were both zoo employees. One of them worked in the elephant barn and invited us come visit after we got home. It was either before or after Halloween because we carried pumpkins filled with fruit from the parking lot to the elephant barn. We got to watch Chai, Hansa and the aunties enjoy our largess and John got to hand feed the elephants as well.

My granddaughter was born almost a year later. When she was big enough, she and her mom would come to the zoo. If I could, I’d wander around with them. One day in 2005 we went to the elephant barn and Chai was being trained to do something. The keepers said hi, but went on with their training. I didn’t think anything of it, but the head keeper caught me almost a week later and apologized for not being able to make time for my granddaughter. He said to let him know when I’d like to bring her back.

          So, I planned a visit with my son and his family. At that point in time Haley couldn’t say elephant properly. It was cute the way she said it, but in the time I spent with her the weekend before the visit, I taught her to say it properly…and was a little sorry because I missed her old way.

          The big day came and AJ, Angie and Haley arrived at the zoo. Haley was excited, but the closer we got to the barn, the slower she walked. When we got to the barn door and knocked, she said, “We go home now, daddy.” We ignored her request and went on into the barn. Haley didn’t want any part of those huge animals. The keepers talked about the difference in the elephants and baby Hansa. AJ and Angie both fed the elephants carrots and Angie took a lot of pictures. Haley wouldn’t go near them, not even for her daddy and she’d do almost anything for him. As you can see by the photo, even Nana tried to get her to give Chai a carrot. Nope, and if you look at her toes, you can see she’s a real primate…she’s holding on to me with those too. I was disappointed she didn’t have a better visit.

          That evening, AJ’s family and Angie’s family got together to celebrate Angie’s birthday. Angie had the photos she’d taken that morning developed. Haley went from person to person with the photos, explaining who was who and what was what. She may not have appeared to be paying any attention, but I don’t think any of us had to correct anything she had to say about the photos and the visit.

          Two years later, June 8, 2007, Hansa was dead from a previously undiscovered herpes virus. Her keeper found her when he came in. He called the Assistant Director and told him and he, in turn told me. I was the third person to know Hansa had died. My immediate response was, “You’re kidding.” Then, I had to call my boss, the President and CEO, and her response was, “You’re kidding.” We just didn’t want to believe little Hansa was gone.

          I cannot begin to tell you how sad the entire zoo was that day. Memories were shared, tears were shed, everyone felt terrible. The sadness of that day wasn’t to end for me when I went home, however. Haley’s dog, Sadie, had reached the end of her days. She was an American Bloodhound and she had been a member of my son’s family for years and Haley’s life since her birth.

          John and I went out to tell Sadie goodbye. I offered Sadie a cookie and she took it to be polite, but she just didn’t want it and let it fall out of her mouth. She looked at me so apologetically. My tears returned only where during the day, they had been for Hansa, now they were for Sadie who would make her final trip to the vet the next morning.  

          The day Hansa was born was my very best day ever at Woodland Park Zoo. It even surpassed those from when I was a child and the zoo was practically my playground. The worst day at the zoo for me was the day Hansa died. Still, I have many stories from my time at the zoo and I hope to share them with you in future posts…baby snow leopards, jaguars, Jungle Parties, Paul Newman.

JOHN THE BEAR WHISPERER

         This is post #151, and I sincerely hope I’m not repeating myself. Today, Friday, I finally got that Kidd Valley bacon-cheeseburger and deep-fried mushrooms I was Jonesing for a couple of weeks ago. I picked up the orders on my way to Claudia’s deck. Maryanne was with me and we both wore our masks like good girls. As we were leaving, having eaten our lunches and had a nice visit, I don’t remember what Claudia’s husband said, but it reminded me of the year John fed the bear.

          It was June 1970, and we had borrowed his mother’s boyfriend’s truck and camper for our vacation. I was pregnant with AJ. We drove all over the place in that thing even though it got like 3-5 miles per gallon…gas was really cheap back then. At one point, John decided we would go over White Pass. It had just opened for the summer. At the top, there were people standing by the side of the road looking down into the little valley below. I believe the white stuff in the photos is snow.

          John stopped and we got out to see what was interesting enough to make other people stop. There was a black bear down in the little ravine. It had to have just come out of hibernation. People were throwing cookies and other food over the edge and the bear was slowly eating its way up toward the side of the road. Everyone seemed to be throwing things that brought the bear just a bit closer to the top. It was interesting.

          Fang the Wonder Dog, didn't think much of the bear as you can see in the photo. The next thing I knew, John was in the camper covering two thick pieces of bread with a half jar of my homemade raspberry jam. I asked him what he was doing. 

          He said, “That poor bear is hungry. I’m going to give it some food.”           

I told him he was crazy. Fang had already decided this was nuts and retreated beneath the truck. So, Fang and I climbed back into the truck and watched from afar as John went across the highway. 

          By the time John got back to the side of the road, the bear had traversed the entire hill and was on the side of the road. John had a slice of bread covered with jam in each hand. He held his hands out, or at least that’s what it looked like from where Fang and I were located. I'm sure I had a photo of John's back and the bear, but it must be in AJ's baby book. At one point, this bear reared up and kind of waved its paws. It was taller than John.  I patted my burgeoning tummy and said, “Sorry honey, I think that’s it for your daddy.”

          I was wrong. John turned around and was totally unscathed. He began to walk back to the truck. The bear began to follow him. John turned back and firmly told that bear to “STAY.” The bear did.

          John got back into the truck. It was at about that point when another kid who had tossed the bear a couple of wieners, was chased back across the road. That teenager had to leap into the bed of his truck to avoid becoming a bear snack.

          I told John Fang and I thought he was an idiot. He proceeded to tell me,

          “If I had been afraid, the bear would have known that. I wasn’t afraid at all. It ate the bread and jam out of my hands and that was it.”

          When I worked at the zoo, I made arrangements for AJ to feed the bears, probably in 1998. He’d gotten married and spent his honeymoon in Glacier National Park and was terribly disappointed he hadn’t seen any grizzly bears. Personally, I was extremely thankful he was unable to follow in his father’s footsteps.

          When I made those arrangements, I didn’t tell AJ what was up, just told him to be at the zoo at 9:00 am. I walked him down to the grizzly bear exhibit and introduced him to the keeper, Carl. AJ was given a bottle of honey and told to go out into the exhibit and spread the honey around anywhere he wanted to. He did while I watched.

          Then, Carl brought out a bunch of fruit for us to feed the Denali and Keema And, yes, I got to feed them too…a first for me even though I had worked there for years. You cannot feed one and not the other. The grizzly bears stood up and put their paws on the steel mesh. The size of their nails was amazing. AJ and I, under Carl’s tutelage carefully fed the bears.

          Carl left and came back with a bowl of grapes. He told us we could feed the grapes to the bears one at a time. I was watching AJ. His eyes went immediately to Carl’s hands and I could almost hear him counting, 1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, and thinking, okay, I can do this. And, we did.

          By the time we finished, I had bear spit up to my elbow, but all my fingers, and AJ’s were intact. I never took the opportunity to take John to the zoo and so he could feed Denali and Keema, but thinking back, I now wish I had.

MABEL

        I think most of you know I have one chicken…Mabel. What you may not know is Mabel’s background. The woman, Gail, who cuts my hair wanted chickens and got three little chicks. They were so tiny, she kept them inside and even carried them around in her shirt to keep them warm. She named them Lucy, Ethel and Mabel.

Mabel

          The ladies had the run of her backyard once they grew up and trashed it with their scratching for bugs and worms. They had a little coop Gail’s mom purchased for her. It was very cute, but not really built for outside in the rainy northwest.

          This was all years ago when we were part of a book club. At one of the meetings, Gail was upset because she was going to have to get rid of her girls. Her husband hated the chickens because at first light, Mabel would crow. Then, a neighbor got into the mix and complained about that rooster crowing. The girls had to go.

          Without checking with John, I piped up and said I’d take them and give them a good home. Gail was elated. She could come the few blocks to my house to visit her girls. So, one nice day, Thor and John went to Gail’s and hauled the coop and the girls back to our place and established them in what we’d called the chicken yard for decades. It had previously been home to chickens, rabbits, ducks and one goose.

L-R, Lucy, Ethel, Mabel

          Gail was right, Mabel did crow. I took her to the feed store at Thrasher’s Corner and asked them if she really was a hen and not a rooster. The staff assured me I had a hen and that sometimes, a hen will crow for no apparent reason. After a time here, Mabel gave up crowing and began to cluck just like her chicken yard mates.

          Time passed and we loved the eggs they laid and made sure to give Gail a dozen now and then. Gail also came to visit her girls. Lucy and Ethel were always happy to be picked up and held…Mabel, not so much. We could never decide who was laying the eggs because we never got three on one day. There’d be one, maybe two, but never three.

Original Coop

          The little coop Gail had for the girls didn’t do well in the rain. John, AJ and Thor spent a weekend putting up a shed. John had the plastic material for the roof, but put up a blue tarp “temporarily.” It was years later when my handyman installed the plastic on the roof. Meanwhile the girls lived there and various largish tools were stored in there too. It had electricity, i.e., a long cord that goes from the garage to the shed. Initially, John put part of the old coop inside to make the girls feel at home. When that began to fail, John installed some nest boxes and a part of a cupboard with a railing for them to roost on.

Father & Sons abuilding

          Time went by and John’s exercise for the day was usually going to the chicken yard to let “his” girls out and then again at night to close the door to keep them safe. One evening, Ethel was missing. She couldn’t be found anywhere. She was just gone. No evidence of a hawk or an owl or eagle, no loose feathers floating around. It was like she’d moved into another dimension. It was at that point we came to the conclusion that Mabel didn’t give us eggs. Now, we only got one every other day.  

          One morning John went to let his girls out and found Lucy on the floor of the shed, dead. He was very sad and took issue with my saying I’d put her in a plastic bag and into the garbage. Nope, she was a family pet, she had to go underneath the apple tree. That’s where Lucy is today.

          So, Mabel was left alone. She didn’t really seem to mind since she was given the run of the entire garden. How much damage can one chicken actually do? Not too much, so I don’t have a problem with her roaming around. Back when I was having the rat problem, I began to fasten the gate to the chicken yard. That meant I had to pick Mabel up and carry her out. Then, in the evening, I’d open the gate and have to either carry her in to her house or wave a broom around to get her to go there on her own.

          Then, Haley began spending a bit more time here and wanted to hold Mabel. So, she did. Well, between my carrying Mabel in and out of her shed and Haley holding and stroking her, she’s become a very needy chicken. I go work in the garden and she’s right there beside me. When I move to the next patch, she scratches through the loose dirt and follows me. This isn’t a problem, but Mabel has become a challenge in another way.

Almost Finished Coop/Shed

          Mabel thinks she should be allowed in the garage and even in the house. A couple of weeks ago, I went looking for her so I could keep her safe from the racoons and coyotes. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I looked all over and clucked and bock-bocked to no avail. Then, ready to give up, there she was, sitting absolutely still on the table in the garage. Who knows how many times I looked right at her without seeing her.

          Then, she began coming into the laundry room and nesting right against the door to the dining room. I almost stepped on her several times. Earlier this week, I left that door ajar so the dogs could come and go. I was on the phone and got up to close the sliding glass door which had the screen in place. Who was nesting on the carpet in front of the slider…Mabel. She’d come in through the garage and laundry room and made her way into the living room.

          Now, the thing is, I wouldn’t care if Mabel became a house chicken except she poops and it’s disgusting. It is bad enough in the filthy garage, but the laundry room and entire house is completely off limits. I’ve begun trying to keep the back-garage door closed during the day so she’ll stay in the yard, but sometimes I forget. If that door is closed, Mabel goes to the deck and huddles against the sliding glass door…like I’m going to take pity on her and say, “C’mon in.”

          Wednesday was one of the days I forgot to close the back-garage door. At dusk, I went out to lock Mabel in. I’d left the gate to the chicken yard open so she could access her house. No Mabel in there. So, I figured I’d just wait until it was completely dark and then close the shed door. At 10:00 pm, I went with my trusty flashlight to close her door. Still no Mabel. Where could she be?

          So, I wandered the garden, deck and looked all over. No Mabel. I took another turn through the garage and was giving up when I went to the back side of the big table full of tools. This time Mabel had maneuvered herself into a tiny space between two boxes. She just nested there and looked at me like, “So, what are you going to do now?”

          I gave up, closed the back-garage door so nothing could get inside, and went to bed. This morning, Mabel had come out from her tiny hiding place and was under the table waiting for me to open the garage door. I did so, the dogs ran out and I escorted Mabel outside by waving my bathrobe at her.

          Looking out my window just now, I couldn’t see her anywhere, so I got up and went outside. I traversed the yard, checked her house and her yard and looked in all the places I thought she might hide…no Mabel. She sure is good at hiding.

MISCELLANEA

         There’s a lot to be said for making phone calls and talking to other people who are in the same boat as me. I had to laugh when I told a friend in response to her question about how I was doing.

I said, “I can’t complain.”

She responded that, “Of course you can complain. We’re all in the same boat. We’re all full of complaints. This is a difficult time.”

This was followed by a conversation about how she and her husband and family were doing. Her daughter and son-in-law both had coronavirus and he ended up in the hospital while her daughter stayed at home. Both survived and are doing well now. This is the first time I’ve talked to anyone who knew someone that had COVID-19 and I’m glad the news was good.

I tried calling the vet to get the doggies in for their annual checkup. I just had them there a month ago for toenail trims and anal gland cleaning. Today when I called, I got the same message as last time, except this time, their mailbox was full. So, does that mean they’re closed now or what. I’ll just have to keep calling.

In the process of making that call, I fat finger dialed my friend Ken…he’s just above Kenmore. I thought I hung up in time, but he called me back and we had a nice chat. He reads this blog and told me that, yes, I had definitely been whiney. He pointed out that there are lots of people out there, including himself, who suffer more than aches and pains every day. He said he’s very thankful there are other people worse off than he is because it makes him feel better. He said I could call him any time I wanted to feel better. I told him he was going to the top of my speed dial list.

Then, in my email, there was a HUGE surprise. It was from Comcast and said,  

“We wanted to apologize for the interruption of your Xfinity services on May 13 when there was an outage in your neighborhood. Any time without services can be frustrating, and we're sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.

“To help make it right, we're applying a $10.00 credit to your account. You don't need to do anything to receive the credit. It will appear on an upcoming bill.”

          How about that. All the complaining I did about them and how they should give me a refund…guess they must read my blog too (ha, ha, ha). It didn’t make me feel very special because I’m sure everyone in the neighborhood got the same email. Maybe Comcast is actually working on their popularity.

          I did go out and pull the majority of the weeds in the east flowerbed this morning. I managed to find four dahlias which the slugs had been more than happy to trim back for me. I saved them, put some safe slug bait around them and replaced their wire cages. One of them wasn’t very big and either Mabel managed to snip it at the base with her sharp beak or I broke it, but I still sprinkled slug bait and replaced the cage. Hopefully, it will send up another shoot or two now that the weeds cannot hold it back.

          Haley came over and we continued going through the tool chests. Holy mackerel, but I swear I could open a hardware store with all the tools, nuts and bolts we’ve found. I believe we have now opened and sorted through all the tool boxes, the carry ones with handles and the stand-alone ones. But, who knows, there’s still the attic and all the shelves under the big tool bench. So far, I’ve been putting screws and nuts and bolts into a metal recycling box, but I’ve now decided that I’m just going to keep the paint cans full of this stuff and put it out for sale for a dollar a can when I get to have my garage sale. A dollar is a dollar is a dollar.

          We moved what turned out to be a clutch that was on top of a five-gallon metal bucket. Beneath the clutch was a bucket full of nuts and bolts…big ones. I cannot imagine what John had those for. Maybe it was another example of something being free and even though he didn’t have a use, he couldn’t pass up free.

          Oh yes, when I was weeding, I realized I didn’t include all the memorial plants in the yard. There are three hydrangeas I was given last September at John’s memorial, plus two other smaller plants. The hydrangeas are sending up shoots, but one of the smaller plants didn’t survive the winter. They may not get very big this year, but next year, they should be gorgeous.

                           

          Well, that’s about it for the miscellanea that’s been churning around in my head. Today is Thursday already, so that’s another week that’s almost gone. You’d think that time would slow down since none of us (well, me at least) are very busy gadding about, visiting, eating out, taking classes, etc., but it certainly doesn’t seem to have slowed at all. If anything, it seems like time may be moving faster…one more reason to look up, smile and enjoy every single minute of every single day. Hope you have a great one today.

WHINE, WHINE, WHINE

        For some reason, I think I should try to be bright and cheerful in my posts. I feel as though no one would want to read about how I’m actually feeling deep down inside when it comes to some days. It isn’t purty. In fact, unless you know me well, it could be scary.

          You see, almost every single morning when I wake up, I hurt. And, okay, I’m 74, so it’s probably not a surprise to find out that I have aches and pains. Somehow, I didn’t picture my golden years as being painful years. But I really hate getting out of bed with my back aching, both shoulders hurting, my fingers numb and tingling and whatever else throughout my body that doesn’t feel well. Some days I feel as if I could quite possibly just stay there forever.

          Still, I get up so the doggies can go out, so I guess it’s a good thing I got and kept them. I have my coffee, and send the dogs out again, drink my green smoothie, and begin my physical therapy. I do this five days a week, Monday through Friday (most of the time). When the physical therapy is finished, I feed the dogs, let the chicken out of her house, have another cup of coffee and get ready to go for my hour walk with the neighbor.

          On the weekends, I do everything I do on weekdays except for the physical therapy and walking. I hang around in my bathrobe and nightie on the couch. The doggies join me and Karma lays on my chest and Kaizer on my legs. We sort of doze the morning away. I really like doing that and not really moving until it’s almost noon.

          The fact of the matter is I’d like every single day to be a weekend day. I’d like to stop the physical therapy and the walk. It doesn’t really seem to matter when it comes to my aches and pains whether I walk or do my PT. And, okay, maybe my body would even further resent my lack of exercise and increase the pain payments. Maybe I’d get to the point I wouldn’t want to get out of bed. You know, some days that sounds like the best idea available.

          My grandma and mom didn’t exercise. They didn’t walk very far or very much. Grandma used snuff and mom smoked Lucky Strike straights (gag). They both lived to be about 79…that gives me another five years if I follow in their footsteps. They both spent their time watching television and not doing much else. There wasn’t the huge variety of choices there are now, so you know television had to be really bad. I’m sure I could while away entire days, weeks and months just watching what’s available on Netflix and Amazon Prime.

          They both had little gardens outside their apartments, but it was fairly shady, so their plant choices were limited. I don’t have a little garden, but an entire yard filled with lots of plants. And, if that’s not enough, I’m vegetable gardening in pots in the driveway.

          And, what’s with all the weeds. I swear they must replicate in a matter of hours. I’ve already been through the one big area around my deck once. Now, I ‘ve done that area twice which included cutting my dahlias back so they’ll branch out more. I’ve managed to do the beds against the north and south fences, but I haven’t touched the east bed. My goal is to get to the east bed tomorrow before Haley comes to sort more crap in the garage.

          Actually, I don’t really know why I’m being such a complainer today. Once I’ve done the PT and walked, I feel pretty good. Then, if I spend a few hours toiling away at the weeds, I feel even better. I’m making progress in the garage and that feels good as well. I think before I write another post, I need to do a table that lists, “good things” and “bad things.” I’ll bet the good would outweigh the bad, especially since the bad only lasts for a couple of hours each morning.