Archive for November 26, 2009

I Was Supposed To Be The Feast

After getting home @ dark, I fed all the livestock, petted everybody that needed petting, took a call from the farrier when I came inside, and sat down to relax at the computer while the dinner that was not turkey was baking in the oven. My arm started aching, a not uncommon malady for somebody that has had a 50th birthday and routinely schlepps heavy objects on a daily basis. It nagged just under my conscious appraisal until finely the pain became so sharp that I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeve to try to determine what was. It was on the side/underside of my arm down near the elbow, a place that I was having a bit of trouble peering at closely, but it looked to me like there were legs wriggling. Dang, I hate it when that happens! I tried to remove it, but I couldn’t grasp the little bastard firmly enough, so had to request the assistance of SwampMan.

“I’ve got a tick. Can you pull it out?”

“You can’t have a tick, it’s almost December. Lemme see.”

After peering closely and trying to dislodge said critter, he was finally able to yank that little sucker free. Yikes. Just what I needed, a week to ten days’ worth of wondering if I’ve contracted a rickettsial disease although I don’t think it was implanted the requisite 24 hours. Still, I’m left with a painful pink raised nickel-sized wheal with a dark purple blotch in the center. Did y’all know that Florida, particularly the north and central portions, has 70% of the Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever cases in the country and with early treatment, 3 to 5% of the cases are fatal? Yeah, me either. So, if you have stomach pain, joint pain, diarrhea, and a mild febrile illness 2 to 14 days after being bitten, contact your physician and let them know your symptoms and that you were the all you can eat buffet for a tick.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Hope that you and yours have a Happy Thanksgiving Day! SwampMan and I will have a quiet Thanksgiving, as all of our family members will be otherwise occupied for the first time ever. (sniff sniff) PARTY TIME! (grin) The stove probably won’t even get turned on today! The Urge To Cook Multiple Things may reach out and strike me without warning, so I must resist. Maybe just two pumpkin pies. Wait. I can’t have pumpkin pies and no pecan pies. (Now STOP THAT! Just think what those pies are going to look like stuffed into a pair of blue jeans!) Rolls…rolls made from scratch. I have the time today…. Helllooooo. Remember SwampMan’s glucose tolerance test? Not pretty! There’s still time to go to the grocery store. I could deep fry a turkey. A little one. And make some yummy dreeeeeeessing…. STOP! Just STOP!

I would be remiss in not mentioning how very grateful I am for my wonderful husband, children, family, friends, and dear readers. I love you all.

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New Kitty?

As I’ve been going about my feeding chores in the evening, I’ve noticed a pair of eyes from the periphery of the pasture reflecting the light from my LED headlamp. The night before last, the eyes were reflecting from underneath weeds in the ram pasture. When I moved nearer, the mystery eyes fled. Very strange behavior for a small mammal like a possum, I decided.

Yesterday when SwampMan and I got home, the horse was nosing a small something around in the dirt that was almost invisible due to the natural fur camouflage. We couldn’t tell WHAT it might be. I went out for further investigation, and it was a young cat. It (cat) hissed at me in warning, and bounded away, but just to the cover of the fence line. I called “kittykittykittykitty” and young, frightened cat turned and looked toward me. AHA! Not a feral cat but a lost cat. The sun was going down, so I went to do my feeding chores.

As I was feeding, I noticed eyes surveying me as I was working. While I was feeding ducks, eyes were against the fence at the back yard. I fed my cantankerous old cats that would kick stray kitty back into the wilderness, and grabbed a can of tuna, approached glaring eyes cautiously, and dumped the can of tuna in front of cat. Cat turned and fled, hissing, to the side of the utility building then stopped, waiting. I picked up smelly tuna in my hands and carried it to kitty. Kitty walked away. I followed kitty, calling, who stopped. I reached out a cautious finger and stroked side of head. Kitty looked at me, and then brought the side of its head closer to my fingers. I sat down and started cautiously petting kitty, who then climbed into my lap, purring loudly. I tried to feed kitty, but all kitty wanted was somebody to pet it, hold it, and tell it what a good and pretty kitty it was.

Soooo, now for Thanksgiving Day, my face is all broken out in an itchy red rash from kitty contact, and my eyes are swollen. Kitty is gone (or hidden) this morning. Will it be back? I dunno. I suspect that as I go about my feeding chores tonight, a pair of eyes will be surveying me from the fence line.

It may never become a part of our household. A feral cat has been living in one of the barns for the last couple of years, having displaced elderly Barn Kitty, who no longer had the vitality and vigor to fight off interlopers, to Porch Kitty. All we see of it is an occasional glimpse of its tail as it climbs into its second story hideaway.

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