REPLACING LOST BLOG

I had written an entire blog but it vanished.
This is the hired hand,  attempting to even out the mountain of clay left in the front when the plumbers finished repaired the Kerplooie Sewer system that the Village had put in (clay tile) years ago.
Never mind what the tree roots in our proudly "green spaces" Village do to the clay tiles which in our case were not only collapsed but full of tree roots (not our trees: he have none in the front) the size of my wrist.

John is really, to my way of thinking, too old to be doing this but there he is anyway. Tough old geezer he is, but he pays for it later.

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This is my room as it appears during
the day when I am sorting and trying
to find places for the books, the CDs, the PHOTOGRAPHS...oh my God the photos.
By evening it is usually much better.Eventually it will be nice. Probably when I am dead and someone else lives there.

So we have had a few set-backs this year, not to mention the thousands of  dollars we have spent just getting this far and now, of course, our missing member Nigel, living at the Vetsspital unable to walk, unable to void or defecate by himself.

As suddenly as a leaf turns color there was Nigel unable to move. What happened? Many have asked but I have no answer-- he is a Basset, that's what happened. He is accepting this with good grace. I visit twice a day with food and water since he will neither eat nor drink for them. I have a gazillion questions and some profoundly disturbing self-doubt.SHOULD we do an MRI? And what good does that do if we do not do surgery? Two Vets, two different theories. Couldn't they get together on things just omce??

All three in less stressful days-- Nigel on the far left. Why did I miss the signs? Did I miss them or ignore them? Is there someone who could come to the clinic and do acupuncture? Would Doc agree to that (probably-- he may even have someone.)

Here is what I want:
I want to be in the Guld of Mexico, floating in an inner tube off the white beaches of Sanibel with the sun shining down and the birds around. I want a cold Margarita in one hand and a good book in the other. I want John to be happily poking about Battlefields in a nearby state: my children to be making money and content and in love, and ALL my dogs to be well and whole again.
Oh. And the house perfect. Everything put away, landscaping done, and last but certainly not least, the coffers full again. (Or halfway maybe.)

And with that I thank all of you, and there are too many to count, who have written to wish Nigel well. It is hard to believe that one little dog matters so much to so many who have never met him, and have never been on the receiving end of one of his Death Ray Stares.
Thank you all.
You are all wonderful. I would include that old Irish blessing here but other than something about wind at your back, I cannot remember any of it.