Bettie Bookish

So Upstate

The transformation may just be complete, folks.

With the birthday money from my mother-in-law, I bought these.

Because a woman needs something DRESSY to wear when she slogs through the mud.

It's looking at me

My country neighbors have a new horse.

The other day, my HSH was outside with the girls when he saw one of the adult sons riding the horse close enough to the property line that the girls saw the horse and the neighbor beckoned them over.

The horse, it is not well trained. It wasn't the type of docile horsey that kids can pet. It was the kind of horsey who gets out of the barn and wanders out into the street like a housecat.

My HSH told me when I got home that, if I am ever outside and hear the horse coming, I should take cover, lest I be trampled.

Did I mention it has a witch eye*?

Oh yes. An untrained, wandering horse with a crazy pale eye.

Y'all come back, now, hear?

*OK, so my husband called it a witch eye, possibly because that it what Country neighbor called it. I can find no reference to that phrase anywhere on the innernets, yet it is so perfect and so perfectly spooky, I'm letting it stay.

My modern problem

The thing that separates the blogstars from the rest of us is their ability to find enough time to have a life and write about it. I seem to do one or the other.

We spent the last week in Florida on "vacation." Seriously, folks, take my advice and cancel any "vacation" that begins with a trip to the ER with your 17-month-old, includes a funeral and a broken furnace, and manages to make every person in the vacationing party sick.

Just saying.

The morning we were scheduled to leave, I gave Posey a bath - Posey who had been throwing up a little and having diarrhea a lot - gave Posey a bath. When I took her out, I noticed that her hands and feet were just the wrong color. A little purple.

I called the doctor, who wanted to know if her lips were blue. No.

"Sounds like dehydration. Take her to the ER - she probably needs an IV."

At the ER, the physician's assistant told us that she really wasn't all that dry. He gave her a Popsicle. A $50 Popsicle.

That was Friday. By Monday, my HSH and my son were both throwing up.

Good times.

On Monday, we also got a call from our house-sitter, who told us that our furnace was not working and the temperature was falling.

On Tuesday, I went to my aunt's funeral.

In spite of everything else, it was worth it to be able to be there for that.

Now we're home and the HSH and I both have a really pleasant upper respiratory thing that involves chunky coughs and fever.

Did I mention my birthday is coming up this week.

Oh, it just gets better and better.

Little thoughts, please

Sitting in my blog hopper is a post about my experiences with some eternally Fancy Ladies at a very Fancy Lady Party. It will have to wait.

My aunt died this afternoon.

Please keep in your thoughts my cousin and her son, who lost a mom and grandmother today. And, of course, my uncle, who said goodbye to his wife of many decades.

There will be more Fancy Lady stories from me, but today this has taken all wind from my sails.

Fucking, cancer.