Mini-Stories

Our move is on-going, at the packing-up end at least. We are still waiting on the keys and the final lawyer-tweaked version of the new lease. I called in payroll hours this morning. Our guys each put in 32 hours of overtime, in a two week period. 250 shrink-wrapped palettes of stone-stuff to show for it.

A familiar face popped up today. One of our "Go-To" trucking people who helped us once before, heard we might need him again. I have a hard time remembering mundane names but this gentleman of the highway is called Rocky Road (for real). I keep restraining myself but one day I will have to ask if he has a brother named Dusty, or Bumpy. I suppose there are other career paths he might have taken with a name like that, psychotherapist maybe?

My sister called me back this morning. Not a thing to be taken lightly. She isn't enamored of technology or communications. We live in different time zones and she has a life, a son and a horse. If she never heard from me again she might think of calling in a year or two, but then again she might not. No animosity, just who she is.
I was poised on the edge of a construction site in the hills when my cell phone rang. I was stuck, teetering on a wobbly rock for the whole conversation as I was in one of those areas where, if you take a step, you can lose the connection. Sister is fine and reasonably happy. She hadn't listened to my message telling her that Monty Roberts was in her part of England. Monty is a true horse whisperer who lives in Solvang California. My sister had originally heard about him in England and had been to one of his clinics. I learned about him from her and later signed us both up for his news letter. Knowing that she doesn't check email, I called so that she wouldn't miss his U.K. tour. now I know that she doesn't listen to phone messages either, I may invest in a carrier pigeon or two.
(By the way, there was an interesting Monty Roberts documentary on The Military Channel, this week, regarding his therapeutic work with soldiers who have Post Traumatic Stress disorders). 
Part of our chat was about Megan, the pasture ornament, who is lame again. Sis said that she and the other barn ladies are not as upset as before when their horses go lame. There is a handsome new vet to help ease their pain. They call him "Lovely Grey".

The Artistic One got into one of his little scrapes again yesterday. He went to the hardware store to buy some new jeans and decided to put them on in the back seat of his car, as the old ones were torn. At this stage of his story telling I was expecting that the police had been called for indecent exposure, but no. Thank goodness. The problem arose once The Newly Jeaned One tried to exit the back seat and found out about the inconvenience of child-locks being engaged. His keys had been tossed on the floor in the front foot well, out of reach.
It's probably unkind of me to laugh at the image of his ungainly struggle with gravity and tight spaces, and the contortions of a man who is past the lithe and supple age for such acrobatics. I'm just glad his jeans were on already and that everyone in the parking lot was not exposed to his tidy-whities stretching over the seat-back. If anyone got this on video, please share.

We are told to expect beautiful weather this weekend. We are off to meet up with Boomer and his forever folks on Sunday. We will lunch by the Ocean in Half Moon Bay at a place with outdoor seating. Boomer was one of my foster collies. He was with me for almost a year, until collie rescue came up with the right home for him. It's been four months since he jumped into their car and went to live by the beach. I wanted to wait until he was truly settled before going to see him. I am looking forward to hearing all their stories. I believe that Boomer has decided that the stairs at their house may be inhabited by Trolls, as are ours.
When you have a split level house on a hill and a dog who is selective about which stairs freak him out when others don't, there is only one conclusion. Trolls! That and many expeditions around the perimeter of the house in good weather and bad, to get the dog to the level that you all want to be on. Carrying is not an option, Mr.B weighs 85 lbs and is the tallest collie aberration you ever saw. But he's a sensitive soul:)