In short: The day!

I wake comfortably toasty today. The sun’s shining and the temperature in my cabin has risen to a whopping 18 degrees (C) when I lunge out of bed. I immediately grab the Monster Boxer and throw her outside into the backyard, before she causes any serious damage. That little problem out of the way, I head to the front and let the rest of the dogs out as I suck in a wonderfully warm breath of fresh air.

It almost feels too good to be true as I go through the morning rituals, shedding layers as I go, and doing some stretches to get the sleep-kinks out of my back.
Marvelous! The temperatures are actually so nice that I forget to take my vest with me down to the main house, and get to the business of hanging a big load of laundry, waiting for me.

We’re running a little behind, by the time I finish but it doesn’t bother me, when there are no pressing matters pushing for haste, for a change.
Though yesterday’s new knee-ups didn’t appear to have any effect, my abdominal muscles have a nice used feel to them today. Pleased by the sensation I do twelve more during the course of the day…just because.

It’s that pleasant tension-pressure feel, really–like a loose tooth you keep prodding at–and this is the kind of soreness that by far exceeds the sensation of actual muscle pains that most “new” exercises cause. Besides, I think hanging in the air–while pulling my knees up to my chest–is having a good effect on my back. I didn’t feel a twinge today. Yay!

Editing doesn’t get done during the morning session. While I’m sipping coffee, big brother and I get distracted by the plot of the next story, and then move on to other topics when CNN newscasters draw our attention.

One has to understand the dynamics to fully imagine how watching the news goes around here. It is not a matter of a bunch of people just sitting there taking in the reports. No. Everything and anything that comes past gets discussed, argued about and occasionally scoffed at…quite vocally, most of the time. Hah. It brings up remarkably passionate debates that can go on for hours–the way they did today.

By the time sunset arrives, we haven’t gotten through more than a couple of pages, and I shut the computer down to start dinner.
No one’s really hungry, so in the end I settle on a soup made out of fresh cherry and normal tomatoes, onions, some red bell pepper, Chinese spices, and a big tablespoon of apricot jam to give the brew a sweeter taste.

What with the way fresh produce is grown these days, a lot of taste has disappeared from veggies and fruits. I remember when I was a child that apples, tomatoes and practically every other veggie and fruit were taste-bud-teasers, while now everything has become sorta bland–unless one is willing to spend a fortune of bio products. It’s such a pity, and another example of quantity having won the battle over quality, in most cases.

With a spoonful of cottage cheese added to the portions, the family members devour the soup. The bread supply rapidly decreases and proves that hunger has been hiding up until the soup stirred it to life. Hah.

I digest the meal for about half an hour, watching a rerun of Dharma & Greg, and then move to the kitchen to clean up in preparation of the seemingly endless project we started preparing for months ago.

I’m determined to get the spice drawers up today, and while one by one the sibs join me, we slowly get down to business.
Sanding down wood that has been covered by years of grime–hidden in niches that were invisible until we broke down the old section–is a messy chore that has little sister’s muttering her grievances over all the while. Middle sister and I start fitting the long stretches that need to be attached under the top cupboards as soon as they’re cleaned.

There are a few hiccups along the way, but around eleven O’clock, with little sister and little brother–who’s joined us for the first time in weeks now that he’s decided to take a break from his computer–painting the new sections we’ve hung.

The atmosphere’s a little silly. The two youngest sibs are uttering exaggerated complaints about having to bend and twist on top of the counter to get the job done. It is quite a task, and I admit more than once–gleefully–that I’m VERY happy that they’re doing the honors. This, of course, earns me more than one eye roll as I lay it on thick.

With the youngest two painting away, middle sister and I are working on adding real wood decorations, to cover up the exposed boards that were used to create the casings of the twenty-something spice drawers. There is a lot of laughter, when the awkward positions underneath the hanging cupboards cause inevitable spills, and the evening steadily progresses.

Clean up follows, after which big brother and I settle behind our computers once more to try our hand at another hour of editing. It goes well. We go through a full chapter before it’s time to call it a day and I cast a final glance at the progress made in the kitchen today before I chase the dogs out into the night and head on up to my quarters.

I’m pleasantly weary tonight, and there are several messages that add to the general state of well being as the last few hours pass behind the computer.

The review I wrote on Amazon got posted, and while I read through it I’m pretty content that it was a job well done–especially for a first try.
It’s just an honest subjective opinion that was a nice experiment to try out. An experiment I might, or might not repeat, at some point when I come across a story that inspires me.

Well, I’m running late, as usual. So I’ll wrap things up here, and call it a day.

School, cleanliness and...semi-demolition.

It is pleasantly warm when I wake up this morning, the wind having died down considerably during the night, allowing the sun to warm the mountain with wonderfully bearable temperatures. This allows me to step out on my porch without huddling in my multitude of layers when I let the dogs out.

They have showed some of their annoying tendencies during the early hours of day, of course, but they aren’t making a racket for a change while I turn the key and jump away before Knight II actually plows right over me in his haste to get out of the cabin.

Bliss, it is momentarily the only thing I can feel as for the first time in days I am able to shed two of the four layers I’m wearing and move freely while going through the morning rituals.

I manage to get in a quick read before it is time for me to get dressed and head for the house dressed only in clean Jeans and a warm turtleneck sweater that keeps me just warm enough on my way down. The dogs dash into the house the moment I open the door–big brother has closed it to keep his pack from making a racket in the courtyard– and shake my head when the two packs collide and go through their morning greetings with a mix of suspicion and excitement, just the way they do every single day. You’d think they get used to it.

What with our agreement not to edit today unless we really felt inspired, I can calmly go do my workout this day, changing into my exercise clothes and putting on my usual list of music before I start my warm up.

It goes well enough, now that the main pack is still locked in the patio and in individual bedrooms, allowing me to move freely through the motions. By the time I’ve done the warm ups and move over to the punching bag, big brother has put his computer aside and is doing his own exercises while occasionally trying to have a coherent conversation with me.

With me punching the bag, and him lifting weights, it is a funny sight, to say the least.
And no matter how often I remind him that I can’t respond while I’m counting out my routines, he always forgets, throwing me off count and making me grunt my displeasure when I need to start over, just to be sure that I do them all.

When, at long last, the five-jab sequence is over and done with, I do some stretches to catch my breath and take the weights from big brother to slowly cool off. I do this only so I won’t be going through the agony of punch-soreness…which always happens if I don’t do some weightlifting afterwards.

Strange how punching works: Instead of pumping muscles it really makes them tight and wiry, which, I’ve learned, is rather painful at the end of a day.
As I sometimes describe to little sister who shows some curiosity for the workout; without weightlifting, you start to feel as if someone stabs a corkscrew between your shoulders, and turns it around full force.

Hmmm. Looking at it written down I can suddenly understand the face little sister pulled when I explained it. Hah. But anyways, watching big brother do pull-ups and knee-ups on the bar that hangs on the ceiling beside my punching bag, I can’t resist trying it out, if just once…the knee-ups at least.

I manage 8 of the reps before my hands start hurting, and grimace when I hop back down and wonder what good they’ll do if I don’t even feel my abdominal muscles while going through the motions. You’re supposed to feel them while doing this exercise, big brother proclaims, before he starts pondering the possibility that female muscles are differently aligned than those of men, and that I might be using others.
Whatever. I do know that crunches do more for me than this particular work out and proceed to go through forty of them before I consider today’s session done.

What follows is a hot shower to ease the remaining tension from my limbs, and getting dressed to have breakfast.
Working out during the summer months is a lot more pleasurable. During workout it is practically impossible to wear a lot of clothes, and though it isn’t much of a problem while actually doing it, afterwards cooling off is a tricky thing. In the summer I would just jump in the pool for cooling off, while now I need to hurry for a hot shower before I seize up completely.

I’m not really hungry today, so I only eat a small piece of bread before pouring a mug of coffee and heading to the table to set up my computer across from big brother who has settled back down again. It is late already, and the sibs are coming down the stairs by the time I open up the programs I’ll need today.

Since I’m not in the mood for editing, I decide to start on a review I promised for C.S. Marks’ “Elfhunter” and try to divide my attention between that and big brother who’s brainstorming out loud about our next vampire story project across from me.

With only occasional and absent input from me, he writes down the details, but I don’t really resurface from the task at hand until it is time to get ready to go town for our lessons.
I’ve pretty much finished the rough draft of the review by this time, and shut the computer down before I head on up to my cabin to change into different clothes.

Though today’s outfit was clean, the clothes I wear at home are remarkably different from those I wear when I need to go out. At-home-clothes usually have holes, permanent stains and actual tears in them–it is inevitable with our pack, really–and unless there are dire circumstances, I really don’t venture out into the world in them. The stares…they make a body wonder if one has grown a second head, that’s a fact.

I worry about this every once in a while, I’ll admit.
This predominant expectation of a lot of people expecting everyone to look just-so on any given day.
Sure, I get being clean, but in all honesty, minding a hole or two, and even a permanent paint stain here and there…well that’s just superficial in my estimation.

As if there aren’t more important things to consider that outside appearances.
Like manners, friendliness and overall pleasant company that is lacking more and more when I visit stores and malls. These things don’t appear to be the most important things these days, which is a shame, really. Sometimes I fear that the world’s general drive for “cleanliness”, “neatness”, “being fashionable” and overall opinion of what “isn’t done” is erasing things that are so much more important.
These days, when I see a sales clerk or even a customer walking around with actual dirty clothes I’m thinking; “Finally, someone who’s got more important things to think of than outside appearances.”

Ah well, be as that may, I change into my “presentable” clothes and move on to the car. I’m huddling in my vest once more, since a fierce wind is sweeping down the mountain once more, chilling me to the bone during the few minutes that I stand there.

It is late by the time big brother and I arrive at our school, but still there are other students there, working at the computers when we settle down for the count, and immerse ourselves in boring questions.

The tests don’t go as well as I’d hoped this time. Only one without error, today. The seven others have an average of one mistake as an hour and a half passes and we call it a night to head for the El Corte Inglés to buy a couple of headsets for our computers.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Alta, one of our Perro de Agua’s managed to find his way into my computer bag, and was blithely taking out the contents while I was immersed into one project or other and didn’t notice the infraction until he had decimated my headphones completely.
Big brother’s had developed a high buzz in the left ear, so with this in mind we bought two new ones, and then head back home.

Little sister cooked dinner while we were gone, so after greeting the jubilant dogs, I quickly wolf down a portion of the delish Asian noodle dish and start looking around the kitchen to see what can be done today.

The spice drawers! I’ve wanted to see them in place from the day we hung the top cupboards, and with middle sister’s help we start examining the way they are fastened in their previous location.

It takes some figuring, but in the end we find all the bolts and screws and take apart the top section that still hangs over the last part of the old kitchen.
Somewhere in the midst of this activity, big brother joins us, and with his help we manage to take them down for the treatment with primer and paint that will be necessary to make them match the rest of the new kitchen.

Recycling. We’ve become very good at it over the years, I’ll admit. Unless something is literally disintegrating–or close to it–in our hands we’ll reuse it, and this time is no exception. Old screws that are still useable are meticulously gathered, wood set aside of possible later use, and only the absolute worst is thrown on the rapidly growing mountain of debris the old kitchen is becoming just outside the courtyard.

Much to my disappointed, disassembling, resizing and cleaning takes so long that we don’t manage to put the spice drawers up by the time midnight is drawing scarily close. The cleanup needing to be done is daunting, and for a while we just stand there, wondering where to start now that all the counters are covered with sections, wood fragments and other stuff that has been removed.

First things first: Middle sister has taken down the section of narrow strips of wood that used to crown the old counter, and planks are a messy pile with nasty nails sticking out.

While we start removing the nails so the wood can be put into storage, little sister start cleaning the new counter, for as far as this is possible with no place to put the sections that we wish to reuse.

It takes a solid hour before we’re finally done, and utter a unified sigh of relief now that a semblance of order and neatness has returned to our kitchen.
No matter that certain areas still look like a construction site…it is that, nonetheless…things are definitely looking up as we have a short discussion about what’s up next. As soon as the last bit of the old counter is removed, I’m going to have to put in the tiles that are missing beneath that particular section. Once that is done, we’re going to have to move the twin fridge and freezer to the other side of the kitchen, and this is going to be a harrowing task to say the least.

The thought alone exhausts me, and soon thereafter I head on up to my cabin to feed the dogs, read a bit, put the finishing touches in the review and post it, before starting on my messages and writing today’s Blog.

Check, check, cheheck and check. All done for the night!

Hmmm. Just another day, I guess

Disturbing dreams wake me...along with the monsters wrecking the blankets, but that’s nothing new I suppose. Hah. I had wanted to get up earlier today, but when I wake an hour before the alarm, I find myself sitting up in the bed, blinking stupidly at the Boxer and Dane, each pulling at one side of my quilt.

My eyes drift shut even as I’m muttering my disapproval, I make a half-hearted lunge towards Knight II and drifting off mid-movement. Not smart! I almost topple off the bed when I miscalculate the distance and just barely manage to catch my balance.

He isn’t impressed, and neither is Trin Trin, whom I finally grab by the scruff of her neck and drag on the bed before I sink back down into sweet oblivion keeping the monster Boxer in a headlock. I don’t wake up again until the alarm shrills and the monsters are once again “playing” at the foot end of the bed, tearing the edge of my quilt to pieces. Nice, that!

Reluctantly, I get out of bed and let the screeching pack out, leaning limply against the post of the door and squinting at the bright sunlight falling inside.
“Oh, today’s going to be a doozy,” I remember thinking while I shake my head and move back to my room to make the bed.

I drag my way through the morning rituals, considerably sore in my neck–somehow my small neck-pillow has ended up under the bed during the night–I’m semi-happy about the decision of changing my exercise routine to once every three days, rather than every other one for the duration of the kitchen remodeling project. I’m so not in the mood today, even though I’m sure I’ll regret it by the time the evening arrives.

Exercise, I’ve found is an excellent way to keep turmoil thoughts at bay, but in order to function something definitely has to go. Ah well, soon the kitchen will be done, and then I’ll see about how I’m going to handle the workouts.

There’s a big load of laundry to fold, but luckily no new batch to hang, when I arrive at the house. It takes little time to get the pile organized into neat stacks and by the time breakfast is over and done with, big brother and I settle at the computers.

We spent a little while online, with him doing his thing and me going over my messages before grandpa arrives and distracts us from the editing we should be doing.
At long last, by the time the sibs join us from their quarters, we get a few pages done, before, once again, we are drawn away with the disturbing realization that the dogs have escaped the fences again, and are roaming outside, having a blast.

Prama and Tadaika, the little hellions. They’re young still, little over a year, and more than eager to create havoc by literally breaking through our steel fences and riling the rest of the usually calm pack up until they all follow.

What with the last storm that blew out the gate, we haven’t gotten around to making proper repairs yet, and with this latest debacle we decide we’ve had enough of taking this risk. Within an hour of calling the dogs back, and counting them all to make sure we’re not missing any, we set to work.
This time we’re doing a major repair that involves more than just steel wires. After getting the battery run drill, some bolts and a nice metal pole, we bend to the task and give the gate a good yank to test it’s strength by the time we’re done.
It’ll hold…for a while at least.

A serious wind has picked up during the time we work on the gate, and my hands are freezing cold when I head on back down to the house to soak up some much needed heat.

My dogs act as if I’ve been gone a full day instead of the actual fifteen minutes it took us to fix the gate, and I actually need to haul Knight II down on all fours when he slams his huge front paws into my back. What with Chaos, the labs and the cockers throwing their full weight into my knees and hips, I lose my balance completely, and hit the door I’ve just passed sideways, since the narrow corridor is filled to capacity by crazy dogs. Insanity rules for a good five minutes before they all saunter back towards the sitting area and settle in front of the heater as if nothing has happened.

Rolling my eyes at them, I head back to the table and set the computer, I’d put away for the duration of the gate-fix, up. Big brother and I fail completely at focusing on editing, once more. A frustrating thing, especially when the story you’re working on is as filled with humor as this one is, but it does happen on occasion in an author’s life, I’ve learned. You deal with it by distracting yourself with different projects.

At long last I give up on the work, and head for the kitchen to reheat the leftovers from last night’s dinner, adding Krupuk (aka prawn crackers) with small fried cheese in dough snacks to make up for the lack of quantity that needs to be considerable for a family of seven.

It takes only a little time to prepare and eat, bringing me back to work on the kitchen less than an hour later when nothing playing on the TV manages to capture my attention. “Criminal Minds” is on. But it’s a rerun, much to my regret.
Instead, I start sanding the shelves I cut, and little sister painted, last night, fully intending on taking the painting chore on my shoulders, when little sister comes heading down the stairs, proclaiming that she’s doing the painting again.

I grimace, looking around, wondering what the heck I can do instead, when my eye falls on the big board from which the build-in waste bin’s cover still needs to be cut.
At the table big brother is working on getting W.I. Investigations/Shapeshifter on Amazon’s CreateSpace, so he’s not doing the honors, and with middle sister’s help I set out on the chore that will bring us another step closer to the completion of the kitchen.

There is some measuring and cutting involved in the entire thing, but with the aid of the circle saw, we get it done quickly. Next comes attaching the metal hooks that are going to keep the back and front of the foldout waste bin together. It takes us some time to get the right screws from the variety of suitcases that are piled into a corner these days for accessibility.

We’ve got plenty of long ones, and really small ones but the sturdy middle size is lacking considerably until we finally find one for at least one of the metal eyes. The shorter ones will have to hold the rest together.

There’s quite a bit of agility involved in fastening screws in a narrow section such as this part of the kitchen counter, but in the end we manage, and continue to attach the handle and start looking for the piano hinge that we planned to use.
It is nowhere to be found, so in the end, after digging through old supplies I find two sturdy–rather big–hinges that had at one point been intended for some outside project that was altered before they were put to use.

From across the counter, little sister is debating the merits of the big hinges with me, while slapping the second layer of paint on the utensils’ compartment, cheerfully proclaiming that the hinges are really hideous. Well, duh. That much is apparent. Hah.

I examine them for a while, looking at them from all angles before I call big brother over and debate the possibility of using the “hideous” things with him. These two hinges might actually work even better, since they’re incredibly strong, and won’t be visible below the edge of the counter anyway. Pleased with the discovery, and the fact that we won’t have to postpone the project another day to get a proper hinge, middle sister and I start attaching them.

It works beautifully, and while middle sister is spraying a liberal amount of oil to overcome the squeaky sound they’re making, little sister is putting in the metal framework around the grilles on the raised section of the counter.

Deciding that, since the silicone is being used already, I remove the uneven edge of the waste bin’s cover with the big sanding machine, and have little sister attach a strip of the metal to the top as well. It will protect the wood, and give a pretty finishing touch to the whole to boot.

Sort of amazed that the foldout section actually works (I don’t know why, I haven’t messed up so far, hah) all the sibs take their turn in testing it. Little brother actually comes down from where he’s working on a personal computer project, and starts opening and closing the section time and again, droning the lines of the familiar Ikea commercial: “Mom. Can I have a cookie?” This provokes hysterical bursts of laughter from us when he keeps it up for a solid minute, wearing this deadpan expression on his face. Idiot!

By the time we finish cleaning up, and big brother’s apparent restlessness, combined with frustration, becomes blatantly clear, I decide to forego watching my regular late-night comedy, and promise to join him at the table for another try at editing.

He’s already set up the computers when I’m done helping with the kitchen, and sag down in my chair with a glass of OJ that I prudently set out of the way before we start reading again.

It goes a lot better now, I’ll admit, the pages flying past and the story slowly becoming even better as sentences are shuffled around, superfluous words removed, and punctuations rearranged.

We manage a solid chapter in the hour that passes, before the night has come to an end–and Knight II informs me of this by insistently stabbing his paw into my neck…time and again. While grabbing his paw before he does serious damage, I shut down my computer and talk with big brother how it went much better now than it did this morning.

It is unlikely that we’ll get more done tomorrow. It will be a school day, and this always put a serious strain on any plans we make. Strange how an hour or two can break up a day and knot up well thought through plans no matter what.
We’ve decided to keep it loose and see what we manage when tomorrow arrives. Who knows, inspiration might strike and we’ll be able to get it all done anyway.

With the younger sibs making their late night snack, and me stealing my habitual treat of a baked potato slice, I chase the dogs out of the courtyard and head up to my cabin. I’m halfway up there, when I remember that the forty pound bag of dog food is empty and that I’ll need to get a new one before I can settle down for my nightly reading.

I grumble about it for a bit, but in the end the dogs are fed and everything is ready for me to just sit down and relax for a bit. I really do need that wind-down time in the evenings, if for no other reason than to get rid of the day’s tensions.

It’ll be busy again tomorrow, I’m sure. It usually is. Still, it’s better than doing nothing, I guess.

Unexpected memories.

Okay, not in the best of moods today, but what the hey, might as well write this Blog. I read somewhere that the secret to the success of a Blog is consistency, so if I can’t go for interesting today, I might as well go for that. Hah.

I wake before the alarm goes of. The monster boxer and Knight II have been making a nuisance of themselves for the better part of the last remaining hours of my short night, and I’m more than a little miffed when I shove my way through the noisy pack and throw the door open to bright sunshine.

It was a late night…not my own doing for a change, and sleep was elusive. Last night I was just about to drop off when Chaos, my gorgeous (Basset Hound), started crying softly, making his way from the center of the bed, up to my pillow, while I was trying to figure out what was wrong. He felt rather cool to the touch, and as soon as I rubbed his fur, strong shivers started to wrack his body.

I was rather startled, I’ll admit. Chaos is a big dog (short legs, but big nonetheless) and has got more than his share of meat on his bones, and yet, from the feel of him, he was experiencing something that was scarily close to hypothermia. I immediately dragged his body under the blankets, and wrapped my vest, and myself, around him in an attempt to get him warm again.

It took almost an hour, and he was feeling pretty miserable if the constant nudges of his head were anything to go by. I had to keep petting his head, or else he’d start fussing and trying to turn around uncomfortably. Finally, body heat doing the trick, the shivers subsided and we both fell asleep.

Over the years I’ve found that the cold can be quite dangerous for dogs that are used to hot summers. One would think that they’re smart enough to find a warm spot…heck they crowd around the heaters enough to bear testament to this survival instinct…but some still manage to get a bladder infection from lying in cold place, which is far from pleasant, and more than a little dangerous, or so experience taught me.

Chaos’ discomfort this night certainly had me thinking back of when we got him, and the eighteen other puppies that we’d taken into our home at the same time.
There was a breeder–back then–who went bankrupt and he needed to get rid of his pups fast, so we offered to take them…and suffered the consequences.

It started on day two, after the batch of nineteen entered our home. Cute black and blond Labradors, a Dalmatian, two shepherds, two Bassets-one of which was chaos–several cocker Spaniels and a handful of boxers, all of them sweet as could be.
One by one the pups started getting ill. Lack of appetite, white gums, vomiting, diarrhea, the works! The entire family was working ‘round the clock in an attempt to keep the little ones alive…seemingly having no effect whatsoever.

Several visits with our vet of that time, were fruitless, and pups started dying from what the vet presumed to be parvo, and couldn’t do much about, or so she claimed.

Chaos was in a terrible state, and soon he was dehydrated so much that he had to stay at the vet’s to get an intravenous drip and antibiotics. Bad idea! Bassets cannot stand being alone, and since that vet was a one-woman operation, he was rapidly slipping away as he lay there miserably in a tiny little cage.

‘Till this day I still swear that if we hadn’t insisted on taking him home–with the drip–he would have died that very evening. He was literally giving up.
So, carrying him in a small box, the drip held high, I took him home, and hoped for the best.
Two weeks of hell followed.
We lost a total of four pups in those weeks, while I was fighting to keep Chaos alive.
Two beautiful golden labs, and two cocker spaniels. We were all heartbroken, not to mention weary from stress, and what with the other pups occasionally showing the same symptoms as well, it wasn’t until Chaos was finally eating more than yogurt and no longer needed his drip to stay alive that we stumbled across our present vet.

Chaos was slowly recovering, eating cooked chicken breast with a slowly increasing appetite, and grinding his teeth noisily since they’d grown considerably–without wear–during his two weeks of not eating. He was just venturing staggering steps, a few days after we had visited our old vet who claimed that the worst was over now, when I woke up to find a gaping hole in his slender little chest.

Apparently because he had been lying on his side so much during his illness he’d developed a severe bedsore that had made the skin tear open. Horrified about the fact, and then outraged because it was the weekend and our vet didn’t take our emergency call, we headed for the bigger vet hospital in the village.

A rather young apprentice helped us immediately. He was a friendly man, who explained that he would need to cut out the damaged flesh and then put in a drain and stitches before Chaos could come home. I dreaded leaving him behind there, not knowing the vet at all, and was more than a little relieved when the young man informed me that I could come and pick the pup up in just a few hours.

Due to the stress of the weeks past, and the still sick dogs at the house, I actually cried on my way home. I was pleased, however, to find Chaos tentatively wagging his tail when I came to pick him up less than four hours later with the assurance of the vet that there would be no lasting damage. Chaos would need some added medication because he had done a blood test and had found several dangerous bacteria in his blood and feces, including parvo.

Heartened by the fact that the vet seemed to know his business, that same night we headed towards the vet–all pups, even those that weren’t ill yet–tucked into the truck, speeding towards the hospital for a late-night examination.

All of them had at least two dangerous diseases in their blood that would require medication that was–much to our relief–affordable. This was good news but seven others were suffering from parvo, too, which, the vet said wasn’t uncommon from pups that came from the same place.
Seriously if I ever get my hands on that breeder, I’ll do him serious harm. Gawd. A heads up would have been very helpful.
Luckily the young vet and his boss were having a slow period at the hospital, allowing us to leave all the sick dogs there for the treatment they so very much needed.

They managed to save all of them, the tiny mini-boxer that were only eight weeks old, the big boxers, and the shepherds. All, except for the Dalmatian that died three days into the treatment. ‘Till this day we still regret the fact that we hadn’t found this vet sooner, ‘cause perhaps they would have been able to save the two labs and cockers that we’d already lost. Sure, the good vet claims that with parvo and the mix of other diseases they were suffering from gave a dog a 50/50 shot at survival, they did manage to save six out of seven that time. Such a waste!

The worst thing was that due to the parvo they all had a serious blow to their immune system, causing a kennel cough breakout that threatened severe lung problems for all. The “fun” just didn’t seem to end, and it really appeared that fate…or whatever…wasn’t giving us a break as the cough swept through the entire pack, forcing us to spend a small fortune on even more medication.

I think I can honestly say that those two months of my life were the hardest I ever experienced. It is strange how quickly we got attached to those pups, really. We already had around eighty dogs at the time, and one would think that that number creates a certain amount of distance between human and animal. But those pups were a part of the pack–the family–almost from the moment they entered the house. There’s nothing worse than having to watch helplessly how innocent little creatures just slip away, no matter what you do to save them.

Chaos became a strong dog, however. Just as Trin Trin turned into the Monster Boxer when a dangerous pneumonia almost killed her just months after she had just barely survived the parvo. Heck, the vet had warned that in all likelihood Trin Trin would never regain her full lung capacity after that bout, but her latest X-Ray (she does have Leishmania. AKA the sandfly virus) didn’t show any scar tissue in her lungs. It’s a small miracle, in the vet’s opinion.

It is reassuring to know that the months I spent feeding the once so sick dogs Spirulina for their immune system, garlic for their blood and primrose for their general health, paid off that way.

I always find it strange how stuff like last night’s little scare with Chaos can cause such disturbing memories to surface. I can’t say I enjoy them.

But, back to the day:
After going through the morning rituals, I head on down to the house and start on the day’s laundry first thing. There’s quite a batch that needs to be hung, and after doing so, enjoying the sunlight that filters its way underneath the courtyard’s roof, I walk into the house to fold the dry batch I’ve gathered.

Chatting with big brother, who has already started the chore, we move from laundry to breakfast and then get to work on the book project…finding our focus lacking considerably when the mood is obviously “in the air” again. We manage only a few pages in the hours that follow, and in the end I decide to call it a day and start on dinner, instead.

After a quick search through our supplies, I settle on rice with veggies. Nasi, it’ll hit the spot well enough, while offering variety and vitamins with the 9 different vegetables I manage to scrounge up.

It is eaten with appreciation, I find, pleased that even the sibs, who really like the taste of basmati rice better than that of the ordinary long grain par boiled rice, have eaten a good portion.

I have a persistent nagging ache in my lower back since awakening this morning, and after deciding that I really can’t stand it much longer, I take a painkiller before setting to the task of dishes and cleanup for when we continue with the kitchen.

The top cupboards that we’ve fastened appropriately last night have dried and it is time to put the china in, along with the cooking herbs and spices, that’ll bring us closer to completion.
What with all the sawdust that has been floating around for the past two weeks, all the bottles, cans and containers need to be cleaned, and while I start, middle sister takes over the chore so I can resume cutting out strips of wood that still need to be attached in and around the cabinets.

Little sister takes the painting upon her shoulders once more, and is moving around on the counter, slapping primer on the bare wood as I finish cutting and then start drilling holes for the shelves that need to be placed.

By the time the evening comes to an end, music playing noisily on big brother’s computer now that the TV is occupied with recording series that we don’t have time to watch right now, we start to see the end result of our hard work.

The cooking cupboard looks quaint with all the bottles and cans, and soon the shelves can be placed for more storage. With the extra shelves, our serviceable China will have all the room they need, too, and that will be a positive change, to say the least.

While big brother is finishing up the compartment sections for the cutlery drawer, so little sister can roll paint on that as well, middle sister and I start to clean up. Due to the old oven having been out of commission for so long, we forgot to clean the new one after we used it last, and something is smelling…nasty.

Some scrubbing follows, along with more cleaning of pots and pans that can finally be placed in their allotted drawers. It all fits, with room to spare, I am pleased to see by the time we’re done and sigh our pleasure of the view that is getting to be more perfect every day.

Little sister announces that she thinks it’s looking great now…and that when we first started out she’d had her doubts: If for no other reason than the fact that the island counter was so huge and bare. But now with the reverted J of cupboards hanging over it–soon with the lazuli blue spice drawers attached beneath–she agrees that it looks downright cozy, while allowing for easy access to us…rather than the dogs. Hah.

There’s quite a bit of rubbish to throw out there at the end. Old pans that disappeared into the back of the kitchen cabinets over the years are examined for future use or discarding, clearing most of the remaining counter of the old kitchen that is scheduled to be torn down in the next few days.

I am somewhat relieved when we’re done for the night, and decide to sit in front of the TV a bit, taking the time to pet my patient dogs–they really were at their best behavior these two weeks–when there wasn’t time to do so for the duration of the day. Chaos stretches out on my lap…not an easy thing to do for an eighty-pound dog, but he manages well enough. Dax jumps up to settle on my shoulder, and the rest just lounges around my feet as half an hour of petting ensues.

Even though it was a successful day, remodeling-wise, my mood is somewhat blue by the end of the eve, when I head on up to my quarters and feed the dogs. I wonder what’s wrong this time. I do find these mood swings to be terribly annoying, especially when there really is no reason for it.

Ah well, tomorrow’s another day, and it’s bound to be another busy one.

Going to keep it short today. I’m running way too late!

I get up half an hour early today, ‘cause we really have a busy schedule ahead, and unless I give up on some much needed sleep, I fear that we aren’t going to fit it all in.
Miraculously I’m not a complete wreck when I wake up and hurry through the morning rituals as fast as possible, if for no other reason than the fact that the temperatures are eerily close to freezing and I want to get to the house where heaters are likely to burn full force.

A glance outside shows the mountain to the west covered with snow, which is pretty much unheard of this time of year. But there it is, a long stretch of white on the entire ridge, lower than it was on the two occasions I had the pleasure of seeing it before.

It’s going to be a busy day. I manage to do my workout, fifty minutes of it, and get down to editing, since we have only a few hours, and we still need to read through the whole vampire flick at least once before we send it out to the publisher.

The posting of a fan trailer on Youtube, which of course absolutely thrills me, interrupts even these few hours. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and though the HD quality I had seen of the “Work in progress” of W.I. Investigations/Shape Shifter was totally intriguing, I think I actually like this one better. Mysterious, and dark, just the way it’s supposed to be.

Also, right in the middle of a rather exciting pursuit in the story, a phone call from grandpa informs us that a large number of dogs have squeezed their way through two fences and are now running free outside the property.

Fear squeezes my throat tight, since a busy mountain road is only a hundred yards or away from the gate and if any dogs reach it, things might turn nasty. While I scramble to put the computers away, big brother and little sister head on up, calling the pack back, and by the time I join them, they’re all safely back inside, looking mighty pleased.
Idiots! They know better than to venture outside!

But anyways, still properly excited about the trailer–and calming down from the scare–by the time sunset arrives we get ready to leave and head on up to the car to go to town for our lessons. It goes well, again, the short lapses of time between the last session speeding up learning enough to make me confident I just might pass the exams in the near future, when I see I’ve answered at least ninety-eight percent of the test questions correctly.

After an hour behind the school computers, we head to the home improvement store where aluminum strips and another pint of paint are acquired for the kitchen project.
Town is decidedly warmer than our mountain, the sea climate dominant and though still cold for this area, a lot more pleasant.

That done we go home, where the dogs give their usual jubilant welcome. They are cold too, however, and as soon as they’ve got their share of attention, they cluster around the burning heaters, soaking up the heat by squeezing as close as possible to the bright red surfaces. Heck, some of the dogs won’t even care if their fur gets singed, and will stay sitting against the heat with the smell of burning hair filling the air, until we push them away. Like I said before. Idiots! Hah.

We have a quick dinner, fries and salad, and watch a “Bones” rerun for a bit until, around ten, I finally decide it’s time to get back to work on the kitchen. None of us is really feeling up to it, but we manage to get some small things done before midnight that really needed to get done.

It’s almost freezing when I head up to my cabin, the dogs not lingering outside for even a minute as soon as I turn on the small heater and lift the lazy few of my pack onto the bed before I disperse their food.

The floors are dreadfully cold, but, luckily, large cushions (the one-piece kind, this time, thank God) are eagerly used by the dogs who can’t fit on the bed.
It’s promising to be another chilly night during which I will be required to keep the heater on, lest the Monster Boxer ends up with another pneumonia.

I spend several hours online. I couldn’t wait to share the clip thing with a variety of people I chat with on forums and the likes, eager to hear what their impression was and if those who read the story feel the same thing I do when I see it.

Here’s the link, in case you’re wondering. Hah.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=8mxY2OxZeUM

We’ll see.

Colder still.

I wake up nice and toasty for a change, the wind having died down and the sun shining warmly overhead when I let the dogs out and discard a good three layers of clothes until only my pjs are left.

Pleased with the warm temperatures, I calmly go through the morning rituals digging through my closet and find that I don’t have pants to wear now that I’ve brought my laundry down yesterday.
Scowling at the meager pickings, a light bulb goes off in my head when I walk past my storage chest. If my memory serves me right, there are still several jeans that I haven’t managed to squeeze into for six years at least.

Warily I dig through the mess, until right there on the bottom the plastic back shows the outline of the familiar jeans design. Three pairs, no less, and after taking them out, examining the size somewhat doubtfully, I toss them on the bed and try them out.

Success! They fit perfectly, and are even loose around the legs. That is something short of a miracle, to say the least. So, dressed in the new-old jeans I head on down to the house, for once wearing only two layers, with my vest hooked around my bag, just in case.

What with all the activities going on these past two weeks, I’ve decided to take another rest day (workout-wise) and head on over to the laundry to get part of yesterday’s batch inside. By the time I get the basket with the wet pile outside and hang about half of it, it hits me: Right in the center of my face!

A breath taking wall of cold, slamming in place and eradicating every hint of warmth as clear white mist streams out with my breath. Oh. My. God! It’s like “The sixth sense”, or something. In all the twelve years that we’ve lived in Spain, I have never felt my lungs hurt with the cold. It’s literally astonishing. Like there was a temperature drop of a good ten degrees in just seconds.

Feeling it inside too, big brother closes the heavy curtain in front of the open door and starts lighting the heaters, by the time I hurry on inside, the dogs eagerly coming in my pursuit, since they’ve obviously felt it too.

I’m not feeling my best today. Somehow my mood has drastically changed in the hour that has passed since I woke up, and when big brother and I settle down to work on the computer, it’s all I can do to work on the editing job.

We hash through the notes he’s made, while I struggle with my incapability of dealing with criticism today. Most of the time I can handle it well enough by ignoring big brother’s occasional sigh of frustration at some scene where his reading got blocked to some error he can’t locate. But not today, with chilling cold penetrating my legs right through my jeans. Each sigh, grunt and shake of his head makes me want to shove my computer off the table, before stomping off.

It’s one of those “everything sucks” moods, for sure. I can’t focus on editing; every change feels like a major disaster–even though I try not to show this, of course–and by the time we reach the last chapter I’m pretty much chomping at the bit to get the heck away from my computer, lest I do something drastic.

Explaining the problem to big brother, I head to the kitchen and start on dinner instead. I know better than to work on editing when I’m in this particular mood, but of course I didn’t want to disappoint big brother, who feels an urge to get the story done for sending it to the publisher ASAP.
With a little luck we’ll manage more tomorrow, but I’m not holding my breath. These moods tend to linger.

Looking through our supplies, I decide on baked potatoes with carrots and cauliflower on the side. While pealing the potatoes, grandpa is making himself useful, cleaning up kitchen appliances which I intend to put in one of the empty drawers, and by the time dinner’s done, they’re all neatly set on the counter, waiting for me to put away.

Dinner goes down well enough, even though my mood hasn’t improved yet. My attitude towards the food matches the one I had towards writing today, so it tastes both bland and too potent at the same time. I know, it’s impossible, but it’s really the only way to describe it.

Not feeling up to wasting any time in front of the TV, I stay in the kitchen and get to work on cleaning up and putting appliance away in one of the smaller drawers.
Miraculously it fits…but then, considering that the smaller drawers are twice the size of any normal drawer, it really is no big surprise.

Cleaning up the rest, I prepare for the continuation of the remodeling project. The old china cupboard needs to be removed, and cups, glasses and plates get carefully placed in the corner of the section of the old kitchen that is still standing. One by one the sibs join me, the sisters returning to their sanding and painting while big brother and I start tearing away the old cupboard and end up literally tearing it off the wall when it becomes clear that the old attachments are no longer useable.

Clearing the wall with a certain sense of victory we continue by hanging the top cupboards. 5 layers of paint are visible in the cleared section.
The biggest one goes up first. A stretch of 144 cm is attached to the brick wall and the wooden beam of the second floor, when we realize that it’s crooked. After a quick examination, it turns out that the beam overhead is slightly bent, requiring some adjustments to the attachment we’ve just made.

In the meanwhile, little sister has painted the last drawer cover and has started on varnishing the oak bar that stretches over the raised section in the center, and the pedestals on which the faucets stand, making the wood gleam prettily as we try not to get any mess on it.

The second cupboard follows soon thereafter, before little sister and I start preparing the back of the cupboard for fastening, and big brother sees to the crooked problem.
There’s some debate as to how we will attach the whole, but in the end some heavy bolts into the top of the casing, keep it nicely in place.

Middle sister is still sanding by that time, going through the last of the painted backs that got treated yesterday.
I pretty much play “hold-it-steady” while little sister drills hole after hole and starts putting in screws for when big brother declares the main cupboard ready for back-attachment.

With little sister climbing on top of the counter to use the heavy drill-the battery charged one is out of power, again–on the board that fits perfectly on the frame that awaits it.

The third, and last, cupboard will need a support, so while I help middle sister with the back of the squat casing, big brother cuts out a triangle that is going to support it in the air.
It takes us a solid hour to finally attach the last one, the sisters adding the final touches of paint before we finally step back to admire the latest almost-finished part of the kitchen.

Just a few more suspension additions and we’ll be able to put away all that the old kitchen is still hiding.
We’re all, once again, pretty much pooped by the time midnight arrives and rapidly go through our habitual cleanup. No one is feeling too perky mentally, for some reason, and after a quick snack of crackers with cheese I head on up for my quarters.

The cold astounds me. I think this is the worst temperature we’ve had since we moved here when I enter my living room and see that the thermometer is showing the God-awful temperature of four degrees, with outside being even colder.
Hardly able to believe it I quickly feed my dogs and than start pulling on even more layers than I usually do.

As the cold settles into my body, a sweater is added to two and the vest I’m already wearing. Along with two pairs of sock and fur-lined house shoes that just barely keep the cold floor from chilling my feet as I move around the cabin, hurrying through finding more blankets that I’ll need to get through the night.

Luckily I find another one in the metal chest under my bed, and am most pleased when I realize it’s made of old fashioned wool rather than synthetics, which aught to work a lot better. After I’ve washed my hands I start to really fret, ‘cause my hands literally freeze up, hurting as if I’ve just cleaned out the freezer, as I dig through my drawers in search of gloves.

The knitted ones really don’t help at all, I find after little more than thirty minutes, and start digging again until I locate a leather pair, padded thickly that finally do the job. Though sitting out here, freezing while writing the Blog (with more use of the backspace than actual keys) I’m dreading the coming night just a little. Poor doggies, too, since there really isn’t enough room to accommodate more than six of them on the bed.

Almost finished...in more ways than one.

I’m half an hour late getting up this morning. Thick clouds hide the sky, and rain is nearing, if the smell outside is an indication, when I let the dogs out, shaking my head at night dashing madly away to do his business.

Since I don’t have to do my workout this morning, I take my time in my cabin, pleased that the new couch cushions are still in place, and that the dogs haven’t managed to dislodge them during the night. The sitting room looks remarkably neat for a change, and that’s always a pleasure.

I head to the house with only faint beams of sunlight breaking through the thick clouds. I enter the courtyard when I suddenly realize that Trin Trin isn’t among the pack. Apparently I’ve left her locked in my cabin, and rather than heading back up, with the dogs inevitably coming in my pursuit, I ask big brother to get her when he goes to let the pack out of the patio.

Laundry’s the first priority when I arrive, setting my computer bag on the counter and lugging two full baskets out to the courtyard, before I take off the dry batch and deposit it on the table for later folding.

It takes me little time to hang the wet, even though I have to stop halfway through to bring the now released Trin Trin into the house and snap her on her leash. Knight II is being particularly jumpy too, so I leash him to one of the poles supporting the courtyard roof and finish the chore soon thereafter.

All around the rest of the pack comes storming inside, big brother walking in their midst and preceding me into the house where we fold the laundry before starting on our breakfast.

We spent several hours going over the latest book project, getting quite a bit done, with the miraculous number of 1700 words removed in total. We’ll have to do another check tomorrow, of course, but with only a hundred or so to spare, we feel pretty confident that we’ve removed enough.

I still don’t like having to remove literarily pretty words that make the story flow fluidly, but it’s not supposed to be literary. Contemporary with 15.000 words is the limit, so we’re stretching as it is. While I’m editing, big brother and grandpa are avidly discussing world affairs, which occasionally distracts me from my work, until at long last the story is finished and officially edited once.

By the time darkness arrives, and rain is pounding down on the roof, I shut the computer down and head for the kitchen to make dinner. We still have some mushroom pastries from last night, so with that in mind I make a non-lettuce salad to go with it, and disperse it on the plates with the remaining pastries.

The combination works well, allowing for a filling, hot + cold meal for all, and wash up the dishes I’ve used before deciding on starting to put away kitchen utensils and the likes into the new drawers. Oven dishes and tins fit beautifully in one of the big drawers. Another drawer is filled with bowls, sieves and serving dishes, leaving more than enough room for more.

Grandpa went to the home improvement store this morning, and was able to find four more of the drawer handles, making us two short of the plan. We shift around ideas for a bit and then decide to put three of them on the shallow ones, so we can choose between using one, or two to pull them open.
This leaves two each for the remaining two drawers that really should be opened with two hands, because they’re so big and heavy.

It is starting to look pretty darn fancy, I admit, when big brother comes over to resume actual building of “the project”.
Ten minutes later we are once again sawing boards, managing to get most of the required boards from the MDF that got blown off the car the other day–and was torn in three. At least there isn’t too much waste, just bits and pieces from where we have to cut off jagged edges.

Five boards get cut with the powerful circle saw before we’ve got all the required wood, and I get started on sanding the drawer covers for the last time and painting them by the time the sisters come on down to join in. While they’re preparing to start with the primer on the new boards, I quickly roll a thin layer of finishing paint on the remaining five drawers, and set them aside before I get one of the top cupboards and give it its final treatment as well.

What comes next is taking out the elevated center of the island–or technically the peninsula, hah–so we can cut out two rectangular shapes in the centers of both sides to put in grilles that will allow the heat of the oven to escape freely. While I get to work, big brother is attaching three electricity plugs on either side, and guiding the wires through the section.

I’ve just finished sawing the first piece out and am holding the grille against it when we realize that there’s no way to attach it, because the narrow opening won’t allow for a screwdriver to be used. There’s some debate, until we realize that with the removal of six screws a complete section can be lifted away, allowing for easy access for both sides.
Big brother, done with the electricity, takes over the task of sawing out the second piece, allowing me to smoke a quick cigarette before attaching the second metal grating.

By ten in the evening both grilles are fitted, and make the whole actually look even better than before as we put the sections back together and place the bar back in the center of the isle. The good fit still amazes me; it doesn’t even wiggle when it’s settled.

On the other side the sisters are still painting, taking up half of the counters, but by then the drawers have dried enough for the attachment of the handles, to which we get without pause. The primer the sisters have applied is dry now too, so they go straight to rolling on the color paint that is the second to last treatment the wood is going to need.

It is not an easy task to attach eleven, two-plug, handles in such a way that they don’t get uneven, but with only one adjustment throughout the procedure, we manage and start sliding the finished drawers in place.

A pause is warranted by the arrival of little brother, who has made the changes to his trailer clip during the course of the day, showing a wonderful end result that would have had me load the film up immediately, if he hadn’t claimed to have two more tiny little faults to improve upon before he feels confident that he has created perfection. Honestly, to me perfection was there at the start. Still, it is marvelous that he cares so much. We watch the Shape Shifter trailer about four times before we return to work, and finish the last couple of drawers.

Beautiful. It is a single word that describes the end result so very well. The old silver handles make the rather modern design look great, while letting it appear to be very streamlined at the same time. We’re all dreadfully pleased by the overall image.

By the time our part of the job is done, and cleanup has commenced on my side of the counter, the sisters are done as well and help with the remainder of the mess. Rather than all of us moving off to our preferred areas in the house, the sisters and I linger in the kitchen, putting kitchen utensils in the drawers, and creating a nice order in roomy storage.

Except for the cooking pots and pans, everything’s pretty much put away by the time the evening comes to an end.
Cutlery has been washed and cleaned–sawdust is everywhere after two weeks of construction–fitting into their appointed places by the time exhaustion makes us all drag our feet and finish with the last bits well past midnight.

We’re all famished, and while the younger sibs are preparing their usual nightly snack, I take a slice of bread with cheese, and then head on up to my cabin. The rain has gratefully let up while I climb the mountain and cast a glance up at the slowly clearing sky.

My feet are killing me, my lower back hurts like heck, and I’m yawning constantly as I feed the dogs, manage to read about three pages in my book of the week, and then get down to my first session on the Net this day.

Weekends are always slow, so I’m not surprised–and more than a little relieved for a change–that there is not a single personal message to take care of.
For some reason our work hours are increasing, unnoticed to us all. Today we were on our feet constantly for a solid eight hours. I feel every one of them. Hah.

The dogs are fed and sleeping on their individual places around me. Yadzia had his second Leishmania injection and thus all the “must dos” are done.
My day is over. Yay!