Repairing fences...not the euphemism.

Oh my, I don’t know if I’ll be able to type tonight, my fingers hurt like heck…oh wait, I just typed this. Never mind.

So I wake up my usual time–thirty minutes later than I should, but it doesn’t matter, considering that due to the yard work I don’t need to do my exercises. An advantage and a disadvantage at the same time, since I wouldn’t mind pounding the boxing bag for a bit, but some things have to give in order to get work done, I guess.

After quickly going through the morning rituals, I take the dogs down to the house and start on breakfast and the usual little chores in the kitchen while talking with big brother and grandpa. The discussion is a lively one, nothing new there, I know, but that’s the way things are. I believe today’s topic was the way genetic enhancements in crops and the likes are slowly destroying the natural effect of evolution.

Though I can keep up with the conversation well enough, and even add something useful every once in a while, writing down the exact words will simply be too time consuming for the daily recount on this Blog.

Instead I’ll continue with the editing we get to, almost an hour late.
It goes well, even though today we reached a rather complicated fight sequence where the hero of the book needs to face down six drunken deviants.

His protégé (the one with chemically induced MPD, if you’ll recall) is far from useful in such a confrontation…which is an understatement, really. At the time the heroine is actually in her confrontational and aggressive personality, and ends up being the cause of the pounding the hero receives.

It’s rather exciting, and I don’t think I can describe it accurately without putting down the actual scene. A pity.
A fight between several characters is a complicated thing. You need to keep track of where everyone is, what everyone is doing and then be careful that every motion described is accurate and makes sense.
Let’s just say that there’s a lot of gesticulating going on during an edit of a fight. I swear my arms are all over the place. Hah.

But anyways, after our editing session comes to an end, we’ve pretty much rewritten the entire scene, and shut down the computer so we can head down the property to start on the fences that need to be fixed…thus explaining my painful fingers.

Now, you’ve got to understand that we have metal fences, those harmonica diamond shaped wires that work just fine if they’re intact and pulled tightly in place. If there’s a broken wire, however, it will mostly result in a hole big enough to drive a truck through.
So maybe the holes we located weren’t big enough for a truck, but the dogs sure could get out without much effort. Grrr.

It is a wonderful spring day when we arrive in the lowest part of the garden. The sun is shining brightly overhead, the temperatures are high (25 Celsius) and everything looks so darn pretty I just stand there watching the sun glimmer on the fresh new leaves of the trees and the swaying grass stems.

Since the holes the dogs made in the fences yesterday are still there, big brother and I are the only ones going down, leaving the younger sibs in the center garden with the dogs as they tackle the weeds and trimming up there.

We’ve got tools with us, wires and pieces of new fencing and start on closing the holes at the very least, when howling from way up the mountain announces that the pack has broken free and is now heading down towards us in a flurry of fur, gleaming in the warm afternoon sun.

Since we’ve already fixed the places where the dogs went through, we don’t really mind at this time, and stand there watching the pack tumbling their way down the terraces in a mad dash. They come from all sides, paws flying and ears flapping, like a massive wave of movement in the still high grass and occasional weed.

I roll my eyes at their enthusiasm, grab Knight II to calm him down, and continue to cut small pieces of wire. Then I start to attach the top part of the fence to the thick wire we just stretched between the three poles where most of the dogs’ efforts tend to cause trouble.

By this time the younger sibs join us and within the hour we have a fully functional fence once more. Repairing fences is murder on the fingers, however. Though it would be possible to use heavy gloves to protect my fingers, they really don’t allow enough dexterity to fasten everything correctly. Which is why my fingers, hands, wrists and even arms are covered with scratches that make the chore far from pleasant. It also makes my fingertips tender and sore.

However, since it is done in due time, we are well on our way back up, tackling more weeds underway, long before dusk arrives. Most of the dogs have already returned to center garden, but when they decide we take too long to join them, the more persistent members start to tug on the upper fence vigorously.

I gotta say, once those idiots get something in their heads, it will take weeks for them to forget, which is why we are constantly repairing fences these days, darn it!

It takes them less then ten minutes to create new holes and with deep sighs we stop the actual gardening to start on the fences once more.
The center garden–this is the part of the property where the dogs are free every day–is the most important fence we have, and has been fixed several times already. Yet, when I arrive to look at the damage, I find that the little monsters have literally chewed their way through the metal until they could squeeze under it.

By now the dogs get distracted. The truck is back from the repairs…and yes, rodents got into the wiring again…and keeps their attention long enough for us to evaluate what needs to be done next.

While big brother tackles the second hole near to the wall of the courtyard, I settle down to weave a patch of wires and then take the large piece of thick steel netting–a leftover from our building days–grandpa found, to place over the entire stretch of fence.

By the time dusk has settled and the last bit of sunlight has left we’re done for the day and head inside to have dinner. Mom made spaghetti with a rich tomato sauce and the carbs certainly go down well after the rather exhausting efforts we put in today.

During dinner a “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” is on, but even though it is a new episode it doesn’t hold my attention to satisfaction. Rather than stick around, I get up to retrieve the laundry from the lines for folding and hang the new batch. Once I’m done the show is finished, and the new one “The Eleventh Hour” starts up.

It is still early to say whether it’s good or not, but it has potential. The characters are good, the actors are believable in their roles and the story is interesting. It might be great, but I’m reserving judgment for the moment.

I have to admit that these outside projects are having the most wonderful effect on the dogs. They are so bloody exhausted by the end of the evening that we hardly hear a peep from them once they’ve been fed and literally flop down on the nearest available spot to snooze the evening away. Hah.

The TV gets shut off at this time, and big brother and I settle behind our computers once more. We’re preparing query letters at the moment and we need to design a new letterhead that ‘ll be “just perfect”.
While I’m slowly typing a letter, getting constantly distracted by big brother’s tryouts, a rather good one begins to take form. By the end of the evening, we’ve got the second letter done, and a letterhead to go with it. Whew.

There is still some doubt about the genre I should put the story in. Basically “Saving Nina” is a psychological thriller, but romance and drama play a big part too. Whichever I decide on, we’re going to design at least four different letterheads they might come in handy later on.

I’m running an hour late when we finally finish, and hurry on up to my cabin to feed the dogs and start on the evening rituals. I get distracted again, of course, when big brother arrives and we continue to discuss the ongoing projects for another hour or two…making me even later than I already was.

The night is wonderfully mild and I don’t need to put on the heater in order to be comfortable, but the valley below if covered under a thick blanket of clouds that make fragments of mist float up. They swirl mysteriously around my cabin as we lounge in the sitting room, while still staying low enough to give an excellent view of the inky black sky filled with stars.

I can’t wait for summer to start and my nightly exploits on the Net can be enjoyed on my porch where I can fully appreciate the view.

Broken fences: A disaster waiting to happen.

So, I’m running a little behind again, which means that I’m going to have to keep this short today.

Let’s skip the morning rituals, shall we? They really were just the same as they always are making them a little redundant at this point.
Talking about redundant, today’s editing session was basically the same as yesterday and got us to a solid fourth of the book. Excellent. We’re making headway there at least.

After about three hours of editing, big brother and I put our computers away and I head on down the property to resume gardening. What with the main two terraces having been worked through during the days that passed, I climb farther down to start on the lowest part that is, as of yet, untouched.

I need to retrace my steps several times, since blind and deaf Bommel decides to follow the pack and me down to the fence…and proceeds to loose my scent in the high weeds and grass. The poor Bobtail keeps straying from the track the dogs make and every time I need to go back to touch his face and then let him follow my scent until we’re as low as we can go and he can safely navigate through the wild.

While big brother is at the top of the property, doing a rush repair job on the gate, the younger sibs join me below. Little brother climbs the large mimosa tree that lost it’s top during the October hurricane and starts sawing into the broken wood while I tackle dead trees and weeds alike on the ground.

A large pile of wood debris rapidly gathers and we’re in the midst of finishing with the last trunk when our northern neighbors arrive home and alert the dogs to a (a not so) welcome distraction.
That’s when today’s potential disaster strikes.

Four of our pack are daintily walking towards the neighbor’s property, and it takes us a full second to realize it before we start shouting at the dogs to get their butts back where they belong, as we scramble to see where they managed to get through the ten year old fence.

It only takes a minute to reach the spot where somehow, Sitabah, Touri, Dax and Matti have managed the worm their way under the fencing, creating a hole that appears to be screaming for the other dogs to follow suit. Middle sister jumps in front of the hole, while I start tugging at a part of the fence that has drooped so low the dogs could easily scale it.

Exasperated about their disobedience I’m calling my three dogs back, leaning over the fence the jerk small Dax (pocket Beagle) back inside, while I bend my leg and set it so that little brother can step on the extending limb to vault over the fence.

While he goes in hasty pursuit…the neighbor’s dog has appeared, and is curiously watching the approaching dogs…my sisters start herding the rest of the pack up the mountain towards the second fence that is to keep more from escaping the last (now broken) boundary.

Of course, my dogs refuse to follow and crowd closely around me while I lean out and manage to grab Touri by the scruff of his neck. With one jerk he’s back inside, and I’m still shouting at Sitabah while little brother chases after his black lab, Matti, who’s excitedly heading for the neighbor’s dog.

Sitabah, always scared of little brother, rushes back and starts moving back and forth in front of the fence in search for a way back in. Rather than bother with the hole, I lean out once more and grab the loose skin of her neck. I then hook my other arm under her stomach so I can heave her over instead.

While doing this, several of the other dogs are already trying to wiggle their way through the hole and I hurry towards it just a second too late to grab Gadah, who saw her chance for adventure and took it. Luckily she listens and worms her way back in when I squat down and order her back inside.

Shouting up the mountain for the sisters to get repairing tools, wire and metal pins for fastening, I slam my foot on the bottom of the fence and try to keep it shut until the necessities and big brother arrive.

While I’m discussing our options with big brother–accidentally shifting my foot just a fraction–Labhana manages a quick escape, too, but returns after a firm reprimand and the order to come to heel. Since there is little we can do, what with my personal pack still looking for a way through the fence, we finally decide to just take the dogs up to the house–dusk is rapidly approaching nonetheless–and leave the task for tomorrow.

We will need to do some serious weeding before fastening new top and bottom wires that will keep the fence in place. Now it won’t be possible what with the sun already disappearing, and since the top fence has been repaired during the past few days, disaster is unlikely to strike as long as we keep the gates closed.

That settled, we gather our tools and head on up.
While big brother helps Bommel–the Bobtail is unable to make the trip on his own now that the trip down has tired him considerably–I herd my pack through the gate and close it behind me.

Knight II is throwing up a fuss, and I spend a good five minutes disciplining him until he finally calms down enough not to be a danger to me or the other dogs.
The big lug really doesn’t know his own strength, and since he still thinks he’s a puppy, and acts like it, I need to reaffirm my status as the Alpha of the pack before he does something we’re both going to regret. It is an exhausting and time consuming battle of wills, but in the end he submits and settles down.

Rather than cook an actual meal we all decide to make a snack for ourselves. While the younger sibs go for egg rolls, I prepare bread with lettuce, tomatoes, grilled cheese, red peppers and onion, with a yogurt sauce on it for mom, big brother, and myself. The meal does the trick well enough and it’s fast, at least.

Forty minutes later big brother and I are on our way to town for another quick lesson. It doesn’t go well today, but I don’t care.
I’m not feeling too cheerful, however, when we return home, and neither is big brother. The lessons are always exhausting, and I have no idea why, it’s not like I don’t know what to do, or that I’m learning anything new.

It doesn’t improve our mood either that the story we submitted to a publisher recently was rejected. But I remind myself that I’m not surprised after reading a variety of stories that have been published there of late. The stories are horrid, and the writing style…well, let’s just say that I liked the publisher a lot better ten years ago, which was why I submitted the story to them in the first place.

We watch “House” and “The Mentalist” both of which were recorded during our absence and then the day has pretty much come to an end.

Big brother and I talk for a long time, discussing our next steps in all the things that still need to be done and plan. It is a time-consuming effort, but on days such as these, planning is the best option.

Editing or tackling the jungle. Can't decide.

I passed out during this night again, which was necessary considering I was feeling unwell yesterday evening. It as a busy day nonetheless, and undisturbed sleep is the best cure for it. It was a short night for sure, not the required amount of hours that a body really needs, but who cares, I’ll just rest when I’m dead. Hah.

After the usual morning rituals and arriving in the house, big brother and I get to edits, just as soon as we’ve finished breakfast and released the main pack and let them run free.
Editing goes well today: four solid pages bringing the project up to a fifth done. Excellent. The best part of it is that the story is getting to be so much better.

In order to get this assumption of things going well, across, I’ll need to give a short sum up of the story, I suppose.
So, this story is titled: Saving Nina, and it is part of a series called: No Escape from Rising Sun.

It involves five remaining children of the Rising Sun sect’s child army that was disbanded twelve years prior to the beginning of these stories. These kid-soldiers were “rescued” from the sect and then later used for the government’s own nefarious purposes.

Which brings us to “Saving Nina”. Nina Hernandez is one of these former child soldiers and after the secret government branch, which had forced her to work for them since she was a teenager, was dissolved, she disappeared without a trace.

Our main hero, Special agent Rory O’Donnell, finds her being held captive in a mental hospital of ill repute and he…well; he saves her, of course. Thus the title. Hah.
Now, this all sounds very simple and dry, but here’s the cincher; due to the treatment at the hospital, Nina has chemically induced multiple personality disorder, which creates a wonderful premises for misunderstandings, whacky characters and of course lots of frustration for the male protagonist intent on “healing” her.

Suffice it to say that through our present edits the characters are becoming more pronounced, witty and sharp, and that is what is making the project so enjoyable.
It is quite funny, but while we’re working on dialogue we will sometimes burst out laughing for no other reason that we can imagine each character (Nina’s suffering MPD, remember?) acting so very differently and yet predictable in a weird kind of way.

Oh my, I’m going to need to find some test readers just to see if reading it as an “outsider” will provoke the same responses. If I…well, we did our job well a reader should be able to guess which personality surfaces from the way Nina acts and talks alone. Ah well, we’ll see how it goes. I might have to start contacting some friends to see if they’ve got time to spare. Hah.

But where was I, before I got so horribly distracted? Ah yes, the day:
So, once we finish with our daily session of edits, we put our computers away and head for lower part of the property to continue with the garden project.

For several hours we plunge into the jungle. Admittedly things are starting to become decidedly easier. The paths are passable now at least.
But today’s main task is clearing away the cut-down pear tree that is still perched over two terraces, held up by a huge tangle of thorny branches of the dead bougainvillea.

While little brother and sister start tackling weeds and debris two terraces down from me, I hack my way through the thorns, slowly cutting a path through the mix and getting scraped around, through and under my clothes in the process. Hah.
Piece by piece the entire mess is cleared and dragged away, while big brother and I continue to hack and saw until at long last the terrace is empty, showing off the wonderfully straight patch of our mountainous property.

I’m quite relieved to have this particular chore seen through, especially since by the end of it, every inch of me was beginning to whine at the prospect of yet another scratch. After smoking a quick cigarette I move down the terrace to clear away vines from the massive Eucalyptus growing there.

Though grandpa usually comes down to check on our progress, he isn’t today. His pet Sisco, an old shepherd that has been his companion for more than twelve years, has been ailing for months now and grandpa finally decided that he didn’t want to put the dog through the ordeal of fighting for life that had lost so much of its quality already.

So he left to take the old timer to the vet and had him put down. Though a farmer most of his life, familiar with the loss of life stock and the like, he admitted that he found this one of the hardest things he had to do.
It is so sad, especially in light of my own recent loss of Yadzia, but we have come to expect that deaths of pets come in threes over the years.

It is no surprise either, considering the fact that most of our dogs were rescued from local animal shelters in groups. Many of our dogs are advancing to old age and undoubtedly we’ll be facing this ordeal many times to come in the next year or two. It is inevitable, no matter how unfair it is. I just wish that some of the older ones just went in their sleep, rather than us needing to take them from their having to the hospital.

All right, I better get back to the day before I really start maudlin and depress myself fully.

Gardening:
Reeds have died and fallen in a messy jumble, providing the vines with leverage for growth. They need to be removed and dragged away while steadily more plants are unearthed from the tangle of vines and dead plants.
During the process we discover a young pear tree…we had no idea it was there…that cheers us considerably especially after the loss of the big one.

Hidden behind high papyrus plants, a messy hibiscus and even more vines, we hadn’t even noticed it until now. It’s at least eight feet high and in full bloom. Within the cleared patches more tiny pear trees slowly are revealed and even one sprig of what appears to be a young carob. Wonderful.

At long last, after having freed and trimmed the hibiscus bush in full, the day has come to an end and we head back to the house where mom has prepared dinner for us. Rice and cauliflower baked in curcuma and mustard seeds. The latter is definitely one of our favorites but bland rice really needs something extra so I offer to make a quick curry sauce on a basis of coconut milk.

Dinner is ready to be served in less than thirty minutes and gets rapidly devoured while the pack is eating their own meal all around us.
After dinner I decide to do some more mending and get my Jeans, to repair the waistband of which the threads have broken after several years of wear.

It is an easy task, and a relaxing one as we watch a very exciting episode of “Criminal Minds”. Since none of us really enjoy “Numbers”, the show that comes up next, I get up to tackle today’s laundry before big brother and I set up our computers for another bout of editing.

Regretfully the laundry takes too long, so we get distracted by the show “The Evidence” before we finally resume work. Since we’re both pretty exhausted by that time, we only manage about half a page before midnight, at which time I declare the day over and take my dogs up to the cabin for the night.

I chat with grandpa for a bit while my dogs have their evening snack inside (big brother joins us) and then, chilled by the night, head on inside to finish the last tasks of the day.

I might not know exactly what tomorrow holds in store, but I’m sure it’ll be busy again. Hah.

Breathe, Sam. Just breathe!

When I wake this morning the sky is overcast with clouds and the temperatures are decidedly wintry again, much to my disappointment. Though I would love to stay in bed for another hour…or five, the dogs are making a racket and I really need to get started on the day.

First thing’s first, however. I need to make two phone calls and I start with the vet to ask how Clue is doing. As suspected, he is suffering from the same affliction as before and needed surgery. But, we can come and pick him up later in the day since they removed the abscess, placed a drain and pumped him full with antibiotics.

That settled I call school to make an appointment for next week–three hours this time–and am just barely in time to talk with the teach who was at the verge of departing for her lunch hour. While responding to the dogs barking, I meet up with grandpa, (he’s come to check out the noise) standing under the roof of the carport right beside me cabin. He informs me that his and little sister’s visit to the embassy went reasonably well, and that’s a relief.

Once I’ve gone through the morning rituals, I head on down to the house, once again taking note of he fact that Yadzia isn’t there anymore, and call the dogs into the courtyard so I can lead them inside–otherwise they’ll be all over grandpa. Hah. During our daily status report of what has been done and needs to be done, it is decided that, while I go pick up Clue and grandpa’s moped, I’ll drop the car off at the garage.

Yesterday, while returning from our lesson we noticed that the lights in the dash have dimmed again, and that the backlight doesn’t work anymore. The last time when we had these problems, rodents had made their way into the wiring, literally shutting down the entire car and forcing us to have it towed for repairs. For that reason we’re going to bring it in immediately, before something disastrous happens. When it rains it pours, as they say, but hopefully we can divert it this time.

Breakfast done with and coffee in hand, big brother and I immediately settle down to work on the book, managing four pages in the hours that follow while I keep a close eye on the time. I’m just about to get ready for departure to pick up Clue, when the phone rings, displaying the vethospital’s number.

I’m informed that they would rather have me pick him up later tonight, after eight, so they can do a few more checks on him before I take him home. I’m actually relieved, the time change will allow me to continue on with the editing a bit longer, and then the sibs and I can head on out into the garden to do some more trimming and weeding.

So, by the time the sibs arrive and have gone through their own morning rituals we head on out into the garden and resume our most recent project.
Middle sister and I start tackling the trees again, while little brother and sister lug the debris away, keeping the dogs nicely distracted with dragging branches and vines.

The sight astounds me every time: The dogs running back and forth, rutting in the ground and dashing through the high weeds with apparent glee. It is beautiful to witness. They love it so much, and even though things might get done a little faster without them getting constantly in the way, I wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Having finished with the trees on top of the sheer wall that flanks the old pool, we head down to where the old bus is parked. During the last storm lots of thick branches were shredded, leaving them to dangle helplessly in the air. This obliges us to reach up high to saw through the mess, and in the end it even forces little brother to climb the tree in question so he can saw the branch off at the damaged juncture.

Since this is bound to take some time with only the small handsaw to do the task, my sisters and I move on to the next trees, tackling weeds while we’re at it. Rapidly room is created within this second part of “jungle”, returning to us the sight of the grand view our property is blessed with.

Slowly we make our way to the western fence, revealing oleanders, pines and several young olive trees that have managed to survive the massive growth of weeds and vines.

By the time seven o’clock arrives, (about half an hour after little sister headed up to start on dinner) I need to hurry to get to the village in time.
Since dinner is not yet ready when we return to the house, I eat a cold egg roll big brother forgot he made this morning. Then I hurry on up to the car to drop grandpa off, so he can pick up his moped, and proceed on over to the garage myself.

I waste almost an hour there and am getting a little frantic about the time passing, since I still need to pick up Clue. Since the backlight isn’t working, I don’t dare to take the car back in case I pass a police control and get pulled over for a malfunctioning light. After considerable efforts from the garage manager, it turns out that a rental car won’t be available until tomorrow morning, so what am I to do?

The man is already suggesting a taxi, when I suggest that he checks the light to see if maybe it’s just the bulb this time. Bingo! Ten minutes later I’m heading to the vet (an appointment is set for repairs in the morning) and arrive only fifteen minutes late. Phew.

I speak with the vet for several minutes as he explains how the surgery went and how much of poor clue’s flesh he had to remove…without being able to get to the cause. Yes, the problem is solved for now, but there is no guarantee that the problem won’t return in the near future. Poor Clue.

Still, the chocolate colored dog is ecstatic when he’s released from the back and comes dashing into the reception area, bouncing happily with the knowledge that he’s going home. With a batch of antibiotics in my pocket and a huge bill paid once again, I head home.

After greeting my pack and getting my share of tonight’s dinner, I manage to catch the last fifteen minutes of NCIS and relax. Once the meal has settled, I remember the laundry and deal with it before I flop down in the comfortable armchair I favor with one of big brother’s trousers on my lap.

During the last stint of fence repairs, he managed to tear a large hole in the butt of his pants, and while I watch the second to last episode of “Burn Notice”. Very exciting stuff today, with a cliffhanger that had me swear a blue streak. Well, it’s something to look forward to, I guess.

With a final hour of editing done after the TV is shut off, it is time for me to retire. I’m glad for it, too. Today it seemed as if I hardly had time to breathe, let alone relax…but those are the better days, for sure.

On to tomorrow.

Tired, but reasonably well.

I was in a miserable state last night when I finally got to bed. I was dizzy, my head hurt and there was this loud buzz inside my skull that sent a vibration through me until I was afraid I was going to pass out. This in the end forced me to head to bed and hope for an uninterrupted night’s rest.

I got it too. I literally passed out for five full hours and spent the last two snoozing pleasantly until it was time to wake up to a bright and sunny Spanish day.
Deliberately I refuse to let my thoughts stray to Yadzia and the way he would usually give me a quick greeting before heading outside, and start on the morning rituals without pause as soon as I release the pack.

One of the dogs vomited during the night. A big pile of grass, twigs and even branches that lay in a neat pile in the corner. I’m thinking it was Gadah, since she didn’t feel at all well last night and I did see her eat grass while we were working in the garden. Besides, she is her cheerful self again this morning, and storms out the cabin, nipping at Amri’s heels enthusiastically.

When I arrive at the house, depositing my computer bag and a small bag of laundry, big brother is already there. With a certain amount of determination we have a mutual agreement not to discuss our upcoming lesson, knowing that if we start worrying about it now we won’t be able to focus on the planned editing session. Instead, we just chat about projects in progress and anything else that catches our attention.

So, after breakfast, our habitual morning talk with grandpa, and with our coffee in hand we set up the computers. While big brother is distracted from the task a bit longer, I spent a little while writing about half a page for a scene that we want to insert into the story, and then we start.

For several hours we pour over sentence structure, grammar and the occasional typo until the time of our departure arrives and we’ve gone through a wonderful total of six pages and feel happy about it.

Still on a high about the successful session, we go through the preparation of going to school and the unexpected trip to the vet (again) with Clue. The poor pointer has another abscess on his side, and considering his last disastrous ailment–the tunnel system through his entire torso made by a torpedoing seed–we figure we better play it safe.

We arrive at five on the dot, spending a useless twenty-five minutes for the doc to finally see us, and then have to hurry through the interview because the waiting has already made us late for our lessons.

Remembering his previous visit, the vet agrees that the seed might still be wreaking havoc and decides to keep Clue overnight, so they can drain the swelling and see if they can finally find the culprit.

As quick as possible we depart for town, getting frustrated as heck about a majority of drivers who appear to be cruising at the lowest speed allowed. It makes us a good seven minutes late to arrive at our school. We actually see our instructor arrive and hurry to get ready.

For the next two hours we go through the routines he’s set out for us, and though it was rigorous once again, it wasn’t as bad as the last time. He corrected us on technicalities more than anything and that I can deal with.

We arrive a few minutes before our pick up, but it doesn’t matter. Soon we get in to start on the most arduous task of the day. Groceries! Ugh.
Since little brother has already done the on-the-side shopping while we were at our lesson, we head for the supermarket without pause and rush through the aisles at top speed.

Thirty minutes later, after bagging all the groceries and piling it in the back of the truck, we’re on our way home and happy for it.
Unloading and putting everything away is still ahead, but at least we get everything done that needs to be done.

At nine thirty we’re starting on dinner at last. Little sister has anticipated our late return and has it waiting for us: A vegetable curry with large chapattis on the side. Though I would have liked Italian, (I always want carbs at the end of a stressful day) the meal is tasty and filling, which is really all we require after the day we’ve had.

We watch “CSI” and “Bones” after which the evening has come to an end and it’s time for me to retire to my quarters. There is a slight hiccup in my equilibrium when I catch myself turning back in the gate to the courtyard, checking to see if all my dog (including Yadzia) are through, but I ruthlessly push it aside.
With the dogs rushing up ahead of me, I marvel at their energy level…but then, they have been snoozing most of the day, of course.

Another day has come to an end, and at this point, I won’t mind at all not having to leave the house for at least a week.
It’s doubtful that I’ll get it, but some wishful thinking does a body a world of good.

The dreaded decision.

My mind kept whirling throughout the night; past conversations rerunning through my head, events that happened a long time ago returning without apparent reason, making me feel as if I haven’t had any sleep at all when it’s time to get up.

It’s a beautiful day, but when I let the dogs out I am unable to enjoy it at the sight of Yadzia dragging his butt over the floor. It is obvious that his hind legs won’t support him, making it clear that his last day as arrived…much too soon to my liking.

So I start the day making phone calls to the vet, grandpa and big brother, knowing that I’m going to need help to get the other dogs inside. It is no easy task, especially not considering that Yadzia literally needs to be carried to the house.

Since I am unable to do so–what with Knight II jumping around me and Trin Trin wanting to pounce on my trouser legs–big brother comes up to help the poor lab while I walk ahead to let the pack inside the courtyard.

I have enough time to feed Yadzia his last breakfast. He’s still bravely cheerful; his butt and paws dragging over the tiles uselessly. The mere sight brings tears to my eyes, especially since I have to hurry to make it to the vet in time and really hate the idea of needing to make this decision. It was inevitable, I know, but still…it’s such a waste of a beautiful and sweet dog.

Half an hour after rising I’m in the car, heading for the village where the vet is waiting. There is little conversation when I carry the Labrador into the hospital and place him on the exam table, the vet already looking morose and sad when she sees me lifting his feeble body.

It is over in less than thirty minutes, and I’m a big mess by the time I get back to the car. The logical mind says that he had three wonderful years with me after being dumped by his previous owner and that it would have been cruel and disrespectful to make him suffer through more of the debilitating affliction, but still, emotions are a pain in such situations.

Suffice it to say I am not at all in the mood to do the necessary editing by the time I arrive home, and merely do a bit of online messing around before we decide to head on out into the garden to continue on with clearing vines and weeds away from the actual plants and trees we want to have.

The weather is mild. Real spring weather, actually. There are some veil-like clouds, but most of all there is pleasantly warm sunshine–the clouds I could have done without, I’ll admit–that is beneficial to the work atmosphere.
While the younger sibs head on down to a lower terrace middle sister and I seek out narrow perches on the steep incline over the old pool.

Eucalypts, oleanders and a variety of other plant life need to be trimmed and once again the debris piles rise rapidly on the cleared patches of rocky ground.
The dogs are everywhere, rutting in the dirt, gnawing on branches, lounging about and just running back and forth. A beautiful sight, all in all.

For several hours we hack, saw and cut our way through nettles and thorny bushes until we come full circle at last, ending up where we started several days ago.
Just a few more yards and we’ll have finished the first two terraces that needed work.
This is not even half of what all needs to be done, but at least it’s a start.

While middle sister and I focus on the last few trees lining the path down the mountain, little brother heads on up to the house to start dinner. The remaining sibs start lugging away debris leaving today’s working area relatively clear for the next foray.

With dusk settling we call the dogs–they are more than eager to call it a day–to us, and start on our way to house for wash up and dinner.
Chili sin carne await, and since my stomach is already protesting I eat only little. With yesterday’s pie as desert, and watching a recorded episode of “Life” I’m feeling restless and down.

For a while, wanting to distract myself, I work on my computer, but find that focus is a flighty thing today. Giving up shortly afterwards, I get up again and tackle the laundry of the day, instead. By this time my stomach is more than a little upset, and I just barely make it to the bathroom before dinner gets chucked up. It often happens on days such as this, still it is annoying.

After a little while I settle down for a bit, watching “Medium” and try to calm my stomach with water and being motionless until the evening is slowly drawing to an end.

For about an hour big brother and I manage to edit “Saving Nina” a psychological thriller that I wrote several years ago, but when excitement of improving scenes finally begins to mount the time to retire has arrived, cutting the session short…much to my regret. I could have done with some more distractions today, that is a fact.

While I’m herding my pack out into the courtyard and then the gate, the loss of Yadzia hits me again. I’m so used to having to wait for him that I choke up the moment I turn around to call him…and realize that he’s gone. The same happens when I reach the gate–he always took his time following me outside–and when I arrive at my cabin and start to feed the pack.

For months now I have been spending extra time preparing a substitute meal for him and now I find myself at a loss.
This feeling often reminds me of how “Star Trek’s” Data (Brent Spiner) described how he could miss something too. Something along the lines of: When you’re used to a particular “input” on a daily basis, the loss of that creates a sensation that matches missing very well.

I thought that to be very impressive and insightful when I saw it, and it is so very accurate. An emotion is fleeting and hard to describe, while for android Data’s explanation made so much more sense than any literary story I ever read.

I miss the input of Yadzia being here. His presence, his interaction and his usual cheer, and this causes a discomfort that comes and goes like a tide…only faster.

Jungle smungle...hacking through it!

What is up with being late every day so I can’t take the proper time necessary to write a proper Blog, I wonder? It is turning out to be most annoying I’ll admit, and I’m really going to need to do something about it in the near future. Perhaps I need to do this in the morning, rather than the evening? Hmmm. ‘Tis worth some thought.

Not today, however. Let’s get to all that has passed since the last Blog and get it over with, shall we?

So, my alarm shrills like a…well, something impolite twenty minutes past my usual time. Either I didn’t set it right last night, or it has been screeching for longer than I realize, forcing me to hurry through the morning rituals with my eyes pried open–just barely.

I arrive at the house not in the best of moods. I think that yesterday’s “lesson” left a bigger impression than I had realized, though I doubt it. It is the only thing I can think of, which could be the cause of my lousy mood, however.

Considering the plan of the day requiring several hours of intense labor in the garden again, I decide not to exercise. The work is hard enough to offer a proper substitute nonetheless. The only times when exercise should be required is when days are spent immobile, I’m thinking. Adding a rigorous training routine to the lifting, cutting and climbing would be a bit too much for my body. Hah.

Be that as it may, I set to the task of feeding Yadzia, some minor chores in the kitchen and then have breakfast while big brother puts on the coffee. We’re running late, what with getting distracted by talking with grandpa, but in the end we settle behind the computer to start editing again.

It doesn’t go well today, our minds are fuzzy, quickly distracted, and the words just don’t seem to make sense. Still we struggle through the agreed upon hours until the younger sibs arrive and the time of outside work has arrived.

One by one we all head down to the lower garden.
Since middle sister is finishing up in the courtyard with her daily task of hosing it down, and little brother is dragging debris away from the path, I arrive first in the place where we finished the day before yesterday. The cut apart pear tree looks miserable and thorny gray branches of the dead bougainvillea surround it like a macabre type of prison.

Looking around at the disaster area–at least that is what it looks like due to the work on progress–I stab my hands into my work gloves and pick up my hand scythe. The place where the bamboo we planted during our first year in Spain is as good a place as any so I start hacking through dead sticks and strangling vines until one by one living canes begin to appear.

It is a relief to find them, in particular since it all looked so horrid, but in the end, after removing miles of twining vines a decent sized cluster stands erect once more, now that vines no longer weigh them down.

By this time the others have joined me, and big brother is once again applying the chainsaw on dead conifers–these, much to our regret, didn’t survive the onslaught of the vines–and later on moves over to where I’m already removing large branches of the carob tree.

The poor bush has had a few hard years, due to a rat problem we used to have, and many of the massive growths need to be removed so there is room for the new to find their way up to the sun.

While we are working on this particular heavy task, middle sister is tackling one of the dead palm trees and the youngest sibs are further down the mountain fighting the relentless battle against the vines’ stranglehold on our oleanders, eucalypts, bougainvillea and even the reeds.

We work at a steady pace, and once most of the trimming has been seen to–my arms ache from handling the large shears–I join middle sister and start piling up the debris she’s removing. Soon we’re able to traverse on the terrace surrounding the old pool.

The dogs are constantly around us, lingering dangerously close to the edge of the empty pool, and roughhousing with such enthusiasm that at one point we hear a massive thud and see Chaos in a tangle of branches that have piled up on the bottom.

Luckily the pile broke his fall, and he is looking a tad chagrinned before interesting scents lure him to explore the piles of natural debris that surround him.
Once big brother has lifted him from the pool, we all continue with our tasks, starting on the arduous and somewhat hazardous transference of the dead and dried palm tree branches.

The spikes have turned hard and they are dangerously sharp, and I am reminded of that fact when one of them pierces straight through my leather glove. Blast! The spike sticks into the thin skin between my thumb and index, having penetrated a good inch of my hand before I yank it out and suck on the bleeding hole for a bit.

Though cautioned by my little mishap little brother ends up with a matching spike in his thigh. This earns him a quick first-aid session that reveals a broken off point of an inch and a half buried deep into his flesh. It hurts like heck, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing on until dusk finally arrives and the end of our work announces itself.

Little sister, who has spent several hours working alongside us, has returned to the house a little earlier and has dinner waiting for us.
We’re all dirty and starving, so after washing up the meal is rapidly devoured. At the same time the dogs attack the kibble waiting for them before they start dropping to the floor in apparent exhaustion.

Lazy little buggers. Sure they play a lot when out there in the yard with us, but after an hour of mischief most of them do little more than lounge about on their chosen vantage point to watch us (or get in the way) as we work out butts of, hah.

Their exhaustion does create a wonderfully peaceful atmosphere for us however, keeping the pack quiet throughout dinner and the hours that follow. We are forced to move over, around and through them to get from one place to the next, but it all happens without ever waking them.

After dinner and our weekly episode of “The Closer”, I drag myself from my seat to see to today’s laundry. Yesterday’s massive batch has dried during the wonderfully sunny day and needs to be folded, after which the new batch gets hung of course.

Since mom’s birthday is tomorrow, middle sister and I make two cheese/yogurt/cream cakes with a mixture of passion fruit, mango, raspberries, peaches and brambles for the occasion, finishing the task under an hour when it is time for cleanup. Together we manage this particular chore in record time, leaving me with about one hour to do some more editing.

It still doesn’t go well, but at least we get another page done before midnight arrives and I need to head on up to my cabin for the last few hours of the day.