Radiogurl a la Carte

Friday, Feb. 09, 2007
The Inevitable

MC has finally conceded that it's time to consider putting Toby down. I've been up today since before 5am, because Toby the Wonder Dog cried for hours and nothing we could do consoled him. I finally just got out of bed and stayed up; by that point I was too wide awake to do anything else.

I am not angry this time around. It is what it is. But MC knew I have to work until near midnight tonight and there's a better than average chance we'll have a repeat performance tonight, with Toby whimpering and crying all night long. I don't know if guilt kicked in, or simple recognition that this isn't a fluke and it's not getting better. Maybe it was a little of both.

We agreed to try one more regimen to try and alleviate Toby's suffering. We bought a bottle of glucosamine and chondroitin, stocked up on baby aspirin, and we'll see how that goes. But if he doesn't improve, at least MC has acknowledged that it's not fair to Toby if we allow him to remain so miserable.

I just hope that it doesn't kill me while we ply the pup with all the meds. I most definitely can't keep waking up at 5am and getting home from work around midnight. Particularly not when I don't get ANY kind of break during the day. Today I hit the road early for a job interview, went to the bank, cashed my check, then we drove to Benson (about 25 miles one-way) for groceries. You don't buy anything but convenience-store stuff in Tombstone.

(The first part of this entry was written at work and I emailed it to myself, incomplete. From this point forward I'm home.)

Dinner was a can of Hormel chili. Fortunately it's still cool enough outside that it tasted pretty good. Not comparable to home cooked food, but cooking wasn't on the itinerary for this evening, thanks.

Most people would scratch their heads about the things MC and I enjoy. We hit the thrift stores today - something both of us enjoy, by the way - and finally found a worthy tea mug for MC. He'd been using one of Rosie's, but we think Rosie's Evil Child (aka REC) absconded with it to her lair. (I don't dislike this child by the way. Rosie's name for her is indeed the Evil Child. REC does, unfortunately, have a penchant for disappearing with dishes, which are never seen again.)

That said, I should explain that there are many, many, MANY suitable mugs and teacups here at Casa Rosie. However, MC stopped just short of pouting because his favorite had gone missing, and he didn't care for any of the others. I'm guessing that his beef was that all others show distinctly feminine tastes, whereas his old favorite was a southwestern Native American design. A manly teacup, as it were.

While rifling through the odds and ends of the day, however, I hit the mother lode - a mug of precisely the same dimensions and a bold, modern-art design. I snatched it up and while I'd planned to hide it until we got home, MC spied it and his eyes bugged. In a good way. He immediately proclaimed it by far his new favorite.

And we extravagant spenders were out ten whole cents to acquire this magnificent piece of tea-holding sculpture.

Earlier in the week, we finally did our excursion to the ghost town of Gleeson, taking the photos as planned. But while we filled the memory card on his camera and emptied the batteries therein, what else captured our attention?

If you've read previous entries, you probably know by now that I've warped MC forever. He was right there with me, digging and scouring for odd and interesting rocks.

In Arizona, the best rock hunting grounds are stream beds, which, while raging waterways during the rainy season, are bone-dry for the rest of the year. The stream beds near Gleeson are my favorite kind, with loose sandy soil that makes digging for buried treasure a snap. We know that there are some good rock-hunting grounds in the area but this was more random, so we were tickled pink (or maybe that was the sunburn...) to find the varieties we uncovered.

I've still not had time to wash them off. That's the way to tell what color they'll be when polished. I picked up one piece of granite with pretty good-sized crystal patterns of black, cream and raspberry. I'm assuming the colors are, respectively, basalt or obsidian, quartz and feldspar, though in this part of the world, anything is possible.

This is copper mining country, so all sorts of copper-related bits and pieces tumbled down during the last rains. I picked up a piece of what I suspect might be malachite; some that must include significant amounts of iron or copper, by the rusty color; some that I'm pretty sure are rhyolites, and so on.

Did I ever tell you I've been a rockhound since way back when? And that one of my favorite (and most challenging simply for the volume of information) classes in college was one on geology? I've done a lot of homework on the subject. Probably why the metaphysical aspects of stones also appeal to me. I've just always been nuts about rocks.

That said, I could care less about diamonds. I recognize and appreciate their intrinsic value, but personally, they do nothing for me. Now show me a nice piece of eudialyte and I'll be drooling. Or point me in the direction of azurite and I'm gonna take off at a dead run. And MC is right there with me, or else he's the one dragging me along to see!

Sorry... I get sidetracked as easily in prose as in reality.

I told you I'm easily amused.

Well yes, of course, MC and I share other amusements. We are married, after all. But that's a story for another entry.

Before - After

In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )