The Butcher, The Baker, The Cabinet Maker

Here are a few photos from this past whirlwind when Cappy was off the boat. We had so much going on that I'm hard-pressed to remember all of it, and I don't know why, but this darned chest cold has been hanging on and on and on, despite antibiotics even, so that didn't help matters, feeling all down and sick most of the time. From talking to folks, tho, I see that I'm not alone in the matter. Seems everybody has got it.

Well, ANYwaze.

Cappy's sister, Maria and her fun, wonderful family came over for the first family bbq of the new year and brought me a couple gifts for my birthday. Dan and his family sent a big very pretty bouquet of flowers with balloons, and Jude and Sonia gave me a lovely bunch of pastel orange roses, which I just love in front of the mirror in our orange and white hall. I was in the shower when from what, to my wondering (plugged inner) ears did I hear, but such a wild commotion going on. When I finally got dried off and 'decent', I went out to the kitchen where Cappy presented me with the big basket full of flowers, festooned with a colorful batch of balloons that had just arrived from Dan. He said that when the doorbell rang, as usual, the dogs 'exploded', barking the paint off the walls, then ran out their back doggy door and 'greeted' the delivery lady by jumping all over her. In all the hubbub, the balloons somehow got loose and tried to make an escape across the lawn, with the dogs in hot pursuit, and the poor lady, basket in hand, was hot on their trail, petals fluttering in the wind behind her. The dogs caught up to the balloons before the lady did, and were having so much merry fun, but Cappy somehow managed to 'call off the hounds' and rescue the terrorized gas bags; however, one of them did not survive. (I hope he gave her a nice tip.) By looking at my beautiful gift, I would never have guessed what it had just gone through; it looked lovely, and it was only after I heard the 'tail' that I found the dangling string, still holding on for dear life to the hapless, broken and deflated orange balloon. Poor thing. No matter; it was a wonderful birthday present.

Before the bbq, Cappy and I rode around rounding up the supplies. After a couple of stops and a phone call to our good buddy, Sam, we finally found the perfect butcher shop, located in Thibodaux. Sam had told Cappy that when we got near the place, all we had to do to locate it, was to roll down the windows and take a deep breath; that we would smell the meats smoking, and sure enough it was true. We bought a bunch of meat, and for langiappe, they gave us samples of their beef jerky. Oh Mama! My mouth is watering again, just thinking about it. We've just got to get more of that stuff sometime.

Now since this whole cookout dealy was supposed to be for my birthday, and I hadn't had real cake since 1995!! when I came down with celiac disease, and although Cappy's sisters, Maria and Melissa had made our wedding cake from one of my gluten free cook books, I honestly can't remember eating more than a bite of it, in all the excitement of the day. So, in light of that, for our bbq party, I made a German chocolate cake, with white frosting. What a production. What with all the precise measurements and the unusual ingredients, like xanthan gum, an hour later, two sinks full of dirty bowls, measuring spoons, cups, whips, beaters, etc., I had the cake in the oven, finally. Sam and his pretty wife, Mrs. Louise showed up, as Cappy was lighting the pit and hurrying around getting ready to start cooking. (I feel guilty now, because instead sitting down to visit with Mrs. Louise, as this was the first time I had met her, I was rushing around in the house trying to chop, peel, dice, and put together the other dishes for the meal. I should have gotten all of that taken care of the day before, tired as I was from all the running around shopping, etc., but I didn't. She offered to help, but when I'm in the 'hot and heavy of cooking', I get nervous when people are in the kitchen with me, for fear that I'll get burned...remember I was badly burned as a child..., so I left her outside with the guys. In hindsite, that was so very rude of me.) As I was frosting the cake, Maria and her family arrived, and what a joyfully boistrous time that always is...I just LOVE those people!!! The dawgs just love those people!!! And they love us. As Cappy would say, "It works out well that way". It was also Claire's 16th birthday (Maria's daughter) a few days before, and our friend, Melissa's birthday, so she and her younger daughter, Melan showed up...YAY!!

Between my making Cappy's bbq beans, our special chopped coleslaw, running hither and yon between the patio and kitchen for sundry things Cappy needed me to do, and making my Mom's special recipe barbecue sauce, when our cabinet-maker, Keith, showed up needing to re-measure important things in the kitchen, and ask very important questions. It needed to be done right then. It really did. I tried to keep up with my boiling pots, while chopping bell pepper, wielding a sharp knife, trying to think of what I needed to do next, as Cappy said that the ribs were ready to come off the pit, and I still had things that really had to finish cooking, holding one end of the tape measure for Keith, and trying to make decisions about certain details of cabinet design and kitchen layout. (He said he really couldn't come back later, and was patient, despite, in answering a couple of his questions, I'd run outside to see why Cappy had just called to me.) It was a madhouse. I kept thinking, "This too shall pass", and it did. That phrase has helped me a lot in the past. I remember one time years ago, in a similar situation that I had put together, when my Mom, a professional chef and dietician, who was very organized in her approach to big cooking affairs, found herself overwhelmed by all the commotion and confusion. I just calmly kept going, doing the best I could under the crazy conditions, chopping and peeling, and doing. Mom, standing beside me, whispered, "I don't know what you are on, but I want some!"

(Boy! I miss that woman.) This is a picture of Mom with my neice and nephew, Chrissy and 'Little Danny'...

But that's what I truly believe, "This too will pass". The whirlwind of Cappy's two weeks home passed all too quickly. This chest, head-cold will get over and done with some time; it just has to. The party ended that night with the worst karaoke singing ever...it was wonderful!! The good times and the bad; it all becomes history eventually. I like that no matter what I'm going through, that I know The Real "Cabinet Maker" is standing beside me, enjoying the goings ons, or comforting, or offering advice, or "just" Peace.

I love the song in this video, and I always have. I don't care if it's been "politicized"; I just love it, and I sing it to the Lord, strange as I am, perhaps.

(If it doesn't load and play well on one link, then it will on the other. If you have the option of viewing in the "high quality", go for it; this version gives me the 'freesones'...mispelled, I'm sure...means goosechills) And hey! I recognize "Papa Elliot" from New Orleans, and the duolian guitar player near the end of the video, too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Us-TVg40ExM

http://www.vimeo.com/2539741

All the Best Wishes (updated)

I woke up this morning with an old song running through my head, and surprisingly, I thought it kinda/sorta made sense for this particular day; however, in typical Pegody manner, I got the words all wrong. It wasn't 'til Cappy found the lyrics that I, once again, saw the error of my ways, song-lyrics-wise. I don't care...I thought in some lame way, it still made sense...to me anyhow. And that is this:

I've heard the Billy Preston song, "Will It Go round In Circles" for years, but always thought it went: "Willie go round in circles? Willie fly high like a bird up in the sky?" And that's always how I sang along to it.

So...sitting there this morning sipping my coffee, it's Inauguration wall-to-wall on the television. Not a bad thing at all. But I just don't wanna hear his speeches. Too "Hollywood" for me. (who knows, maybe most or all of the past presidential speeches were "Hollywood", but I personally don't care. It's just that we all witnessed Hollywood and the news networks doing their 'dangest' to get the man elected...polished him and showcased him at every opportunity, to their joy and success.) It's been no secret that George Clooney had been coaching him; I guess that's ok, too. A couple of days ago ol' George Clooney rolled up to visit Mr. Obama again. ....(whateverrrr.) Upon the threshold of another well crafted (I'm sure) speech, I turned the channel, humming the tune and, as usual, thinking the wrong words, "I've got a song that I want to sing, I'm going to sing it to the world" (but I don't want to hear it)

Well, later, just now I'm reading the real lyrics to the other verses, "I've got a story, ain't got no moral, let the bad guy win every once in awhile" (Well, that didn't help) "I've got a dance, I ain't got no steps, no I'm gonna let the music move me around". Ah, like the winds of "Change" maybe. So, I'm going back to how I like to sing the thing, " Will he go round in circles? Will he fly high like a bird up in the sky?" Will he be 'business as usual' (around and around we go again), or will he really succeed and take this country on to new heights? I don't wanna hear his song. I don't wanna hear his story. That's his talk. I don't even wanna see his dance...I want to see his walk. I want to see where he leads us. I'm really hoping (and praying) for the best.

It all remains to be seen: Willie go round in circles? Willie fly high like a bird up in the sky? Poor guy's going to need our prayers, too. He's not even behind the desk yet and already his hair is getting gray. God Bless America and God, please bless our new President Barack Obama and protect us all. Amen.

Well, I watched his acceptance speech, and I liked it. Cappy and I shed a few tears as we humbly prayed along with the rest of our country, wishing our dads and mothers could be here to witness this giant step our country has just taken.I hope it's not all Hollywood, and that President Barack Obama's prayers...what he promised The Lord are for real. Now, finally, I hope people can put slavery in the past; it's history, and that now all races, shoulder to shoulder, equal human beings all under the Eyes of God, can together, go forward striving for good.

The Great Crawfishing Caper

Back in the day, a large group of friends yusta gather at 'da camp' in the swamp for weekend party outings. Always fun, but many a treasured memories of those times are slowly fading from my mind as the years slide by. I was reminded of this particular debacle yesterday, so I called a participant of past outings to help me flesh out some of my memories and decided to post it 'fore it fades away completely. Details are sadly forgotten and photos, to my knowledge, are non-existant. If any of the old crowd reads this and has pictures send 'em over and we will insert them later .
Well.... here goes: Usually around Wednesday evening the phone would begin to ring. It would be the weekend party crowd checking in, all singing the same old refrain,"What we gonna do dis weekend?"

On this one particular weekend back in the early 80's in the late Spring, I was informed 2 facts that shaped the whole weekend. Fact #1, our good friends Jim and Trish were coming in from Texas. Fact #2, it was discovered that neither one of these Texas city folk had ever been crawfishing. The stage was set for us to remedy this intollerable condition the very next weekend. In other words, it sounded like a great excuse for a party weekend at da camp. Several phone calls later, da plan was hatched.

A 'core' group, like, from 6 to 8 of us, showed up at da camp Friday night with a truckload of beer and some camp supplies. This was da crawfish "catching & boiling crew". The main group was scheduled to start arriving around noon, on Saturday to attend the crawfish boil. This may sound over confident to you, but remember it was Spring in da swamp land of Louisiana, and there was no doubt 'bout catching crawfish; we would get 'em. We settled down at da camp, started drinking, and it wasn't long 'til a heated debate ensued: Who was gonna go crawfishing and who was gonna stay back and set up the party. Well, despite the beer, a logical conclusion was eventually reached and the stage was set. I was goin' to do the net-lifting while Dave ran the boat. Jim and Trish were goin' cause that was da reason for the whole drunken debacle to start with, and Ginger was goin' cause she flat-refused to not witness da rookies in action. Da stage was set. In da morning, da 5 of us would get in da 2 boats and head down to a great place that I knew for crawfishing.

Dave, being Dave, was up before daylight rattling around and hauling stuff to the bayou bank. We all grumbled, swore and pried ourselves up out of our sleeping bags too, and since the first thing Dave had rattled up was da coffee pot, we didn't swear too long or loudly; just went about havin' breakfast (alka seltzers, aspirins, rolaids, and/or stanback powders) After my head quit pounding and vision unblurred, I stumbled out to da bayou, where a rather large pile of stuff had accumulated by the boat landing. 2 ice chests (1 beer, 1 munchies), a water can, empty buckets, crawfish nets, bait can, out-board motor, gas can, etc. As I surveyed the area, mentally takin' inventory, I happened to glance at the old willow tree that the boats were always chained to, and discovered a serious potential problem: Only one boat! (Apparently somebody borrowed da other one.)

Well, the argument flared up again: What do we do? Who goes now? Do we go at all? What about another place? Another?? Well, what? These sort of logistics problems were usually always left up to me, 'cause I was da guy with the most experience in this sort of thing, bein' a boat guy and all. By the end of this story ya prolly gonna doubt da validity of that reasoning, but anyways.... here's what I decided:

We would hang da outboard motor on da boat, move da boat to the dock and start loading our stuff in order of priority, 'til da boat was full and that would help decide the matter. I got in first (I was gonna do da dirty work). Dave started handing stuff to me in order of importance, in came the beer, gas, nets, bait, Jim and Trish (each wearing enough floatation devices to hold up a small car), and Dave. At this point we had a scant 6-8" of freeboard and I was worried, 'cause still on da dock was da water and munchies and Ginger, who at this point weren't too happy. Well, since I'd already made my decision, we set sail with Ginger aboard, but left the water and food sittin' on the dock. Believe me, it was the right choice. Ginger was the only one of the 3 that could and would fight back if we tried to leave without her.

A half hour down the bayou, we arrived at the spot I had picked; a flooded pipeline right-of-way. I knew that the water was about waist-deep and under the water was a flat grassy area that I knew from da past was teaming with crawfish. I showed Jim and Trish how to stretch out and bait the nets, then I hopped overboard, (scaring them to death). I grabbed the 15-or-so foot pole that I used to lift and set nets. I instructed them to tie a chicken neck to the center of each net, then I would hook it with the nail in the end of my pole and swing it into the water. Dave joined me in the waist deep swamp water and tied the boat's rope to himself. I set, like, a dozen or so nets in a big circle around us and decided to check the first one. Sure enough, it was "brim full" and overflowing with big ole Louisiana crawfish. Trish's expression, as I swung this dripping net, teaming with "pincher yielding little terrors" towards her is forever emblazoned in my mind. Before this, I had always thought "bug-eyed" with horror was just a saying. I had no idea anyone could actually achieve the expression. A few minutes later, after Trish's heart started beating again, we got back to work and fell into a rythem. I moved from net to net, lifting them up, each packed with crawfish, swung them into the middle of the boat, where Trish and Ginger would dump the nets, emptying them onto a piece of plywood that we used for a 'sorting table', shove the good crawfish into a 5 gallon bucket, and toss everything that wasn't 'good' overboard. When the bucket was filled, Jim would help them pour the crawfish into a sack. After awhile, Jim got brave and jumped into the water, swapping places with Dave and even pulled the boat around for me, all the while looking over his shoulder for "swamp critters". In very short order we had more than enough crawfish. In less that 2 hour's time we had 4 big ol' grass sacks full of crawfish in that boat and it was then that we discovered the next flaw in our plan.

After we picked up all da tackle, retrieved da nets and got it all loaded onto the boat; crawfish and all, we noticed the "free board" had shrunk to a scant few inches...and me and Jim still weren't aboard! Those 4 sacks of crawfish dressed out at, like, 80 pounds each!

Well how to get home?? While in the midst of yet another heated debate about our situation, I noticed a great big ole tree floating down da bayou. What ended up happening was: Dave dragged Jim and me out to that big ole floating tree, as we hung onto the side of the boat. Then once we got safely ensconced on top of it, they handed us the ice chest, which lightened the boat enough for their trip back to the dock and left us sitting there with this ice chest of beer between us, as we slowly drifted down the quiet bayou, so that Dave could run the crawfish and the gals back to da camp. So, there we sat, Jim and I waiting for them to come back for us. It took him a couple hours to go unload, make sure the shore crew was organized and then return. By the time he got back, me, Jim and da tree had floated a half a mile or so down the bayou. Dave said he wasn't sure where where we went so he killed da motor and listened. He was led to us by the sound of drunken singing.

When it was all said and done, we all got back to the camp and although slightly sun-burnt, managed to feed no less than 20 partying Cajuns and had a truly, almost unforgetable time.

Makin' BBQ and Boudin

Yesterday afternoon I was struck with a thought; why not make some boudin? For those who don't know, boudin is kinda like a sausage. It's made of pork meat, ground liver, Cajun spices and rice, kinda like a "dirty rice mix" in a sausage casing. A phone call to my friend Sam, a trip to a butcher shop and a plan was hatched. Today Sam came over bringing the casing, very, very good deer sausage that he had made and brought for us to put on the bbq pit, and some frozen catfish for Pegody to enjoy while I'm back on the boat. In a flash of brilliance, Sam and I decided to call another friend, Todd and had him come over to join the doings. We had a grand old time! Watch the slideshow and join us. If it don't make ya mouth water then you aint Cajun.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCyzMScgE1w

Cappy's Tug Boat Christmas

The hitch started 2 weeks before Christmas and stretched til a week after New Years. The weather was nice for the most part and most mornings were begun under sunrises like this one. The fog usually set in early, and for one stretch didn't lift for 3 days. The haze and humidity gave some sunsets almost a surreal cast when combined with lights from the platforms we dock at. The afternoon we pulled up at this place in the bay, the sky had a beautiful purple cast, blending in with the lights off the water.

Our little Christmas tree wasn't much, but it did a fine job of cheering up the back corner of the wheel house, along with the presents and stockings for the crew, and the singing snowman that cappyclaus's helper Pegody brought to us one day when we passed by a dock she could reach.
My crew that week, shown here, Darby my pilot on the left and Brian my temporary tankerman on the right were thrilled with the stockings and presents that Peg brought to us. I must say it was tough keeping them out of the "goodies" til Christmas morning.
David, my normal tankerman, shares a love of old gnarly dead trees with me, so I took this picture with him in mind. The old dead cyprus tree is beautiful enough all by itself. The flock of Cormorants that were perched on it, like decorations on some morbid- looking Christmas tree were just an added treat to a dead-tree-lover like me.

Winter sunsets are often quite beautiful, and we never tire of enjoying them. Whenever the man on watch sees a nice sunset he always passes word to who ever is awake and we watch the sun set most days. There were a few foggy evenings and not all sunsets can be enjoyed, but every once in awhile there is one that is so magical ya can't just take 1 picture. The last day on the boat I happened to lookbehind me at some seagulls following behind us in the sunset. I hollered for my pilot to take the wheel, and I stood there taking pictures and just glorying in the beautiful sight, thanking God for the privilege to live and work in the swampy paradise we call home.

Pegody's Christmas Present

I guess I did have the Christmas Blues after all. Not that I'd forgotten all the fun Cappy and I had with the kids and grandbabies in western NY, having had our Christmas with them,

or the fun of stuffing stockings and taking them and gifts to the guys on Cappy's boat. It's just that the prospect of spending another Christmas by myself, when I'd promised myself year after year that it wasn't going to happen again, was just too depressing. Although I'd had Christmas with the kids and Christmas at home with Cappy, I knew what day "Christmas" was; the day everybody else was celebrating; even Cappy and his crew out there on the boat. Greedy me; I wanted another Christmas. I didn't want any more presents for Pete's sake...I got spoiled this year, but the thing I wanted most of all with my whole heart was to not be alone again on that particular day. I guess I misunderstood a few things around here. I thought I'd distinctly heard a couple of times that Christmas in our town was strictly for family, but that didn't include friends. Family only. I'd tried to "horn in" before unsuccessfully in years past. Now I could have, but I didn't want to drive a hundred miles or more away to be with Cappy's family. (After the drive up north and back, I was kinda tired of road tripping for awhile.) Soooo, I thought I'd tough it out again this year, just me and my dawgs. Christmas Eve, I ran across the street to take Sonia and Jude their gifts, and when they learned I was going to be by myself, said to be sure to come over Christmas day Night, because their family were going to be getting together for food and fireworks. That sounded GREAT!

I had gifts for my friend Melissa and her family, so called her, and I guess I sounded so pathetic that she told me to come on over Christmas morning, but that they were going to be leaving to go to her cousin's house around noon. I was thrilled; I'd have a family to be with while they opened their gifts ON Christmas day. When I got there, Melissa met me with a big warm hug and a smooch on the cheek, and gently told me, "This is from Sookie", my daughter, who had called her from snowy western NY to ask her that favor. Well, then I hadda bawl. A kiss and hug from my daughter delivered by my friend, Melissa, could the day get any better.

I got to watch her family open their gifts. Melissa said that if I was going to Blog about this, to be sure to mention that so many people had contributed to their Christmas this year with gifts for her grandson, Little David. (Regular readers will remember that Melissa lost her son, David in a car accident, leaving Little David for the family to raise.) What a joy to see all the wonderful things he got to open! Clothes and toys...he was so excited, and so were we. I don't know who the folks are who brought him all these things, but they have great taste in picking out clothes and gifts for little boys. I was about to leave when they said that I could go with them to their cousin's, but I opted out, thinking that there was still a slim chance I could go visit Cappy for a bit wherever his boat might be. I sure wouldn't want to miss that opportunity.

Alas, it was not to be, but Sookie called and I got to talk with son Thom, who was with her, then later in the day, Foy, our friend from North Carolina called to say "hi". Now that was very nice. We had intended to visit with him and his lovely wife, Brenda on our way back from NY this last time, but time didn't permit. Rats.

Later when it got dark, I heard hissing and booming and loud reports going off, so went across the street and took a few pictures of neighbors gathered around a bonfire, setting off gorgeous fireworks. When people began to go inside, one of them whispered to Miss Mary, with whom I was visiting, whereupon she got up and began walking toward the house. I asked Miss Mary where the crowd was going and she said, "Oh, they said we are going to be opening presents". Since the information had been whispered to her, I took it to mean (from past experiences) family only, so excused myself and made a discreet exit.

I had, had a full and wonderful day, so got into my nighty and got into bed early. I slept like a LOG and woke up the next morning at 11(!!) to the sound of the dogs barking, letting me know Sonia was at the door. She and I were both shocked that I had still been asleep. She asked, "Where did you go last night?? I almost came over at ten o'clock, but saw the house was all dark. Here...we got you these gifts". Awwwww. She had a plaque made special for us, and her sister had given us a lovely Christmas rug. Sighhh...you know what? One of these days I'm gonna get it right. Past experiences often cause me to misunderstand the present. I love that old saying, "Yesterday's a history, the future is a mystery, today is a gift; that's why it's called the Present".

Merry Christmas Yall!

And another video of a dawg who loves to sing Christmas songs: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=WcJh7itUrzM&NR=1

Weird Little Jingle Bells Video, Right Up My Weird Little Alley

This is Cappy's work outfit for the next few weeks. He steps out of his wheelhouse and waves at the people along the River and bayous, or just the other guys on passing boats. Smart alecks yell back, "Where are the reindeer??"

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vUi_FK_sHKM&feature=related

The ol' mailbox out by the road has been bulging with catalogs, but sifting through them I get to find treasures like these. Grandbabies!! They look even sweeter than they did when we left them last week. Zachary looks just exactly like his Dad, Joe did when he was little. Ashley is a beautiful little girl, and the baby looks like her pretty Mom...she's "little Jessica".Some of Cappy's oldest and dearest friends. I'm still in shock at the sight of Owen and Patrick in their Marine uniforms. BAW!! They look like handsome men already, not the teenagers that they were when we last saw them. And look at the proud Momma and Daddy :-)

Cappy's cousin Ainslie with her beautiful family. Their cards just get better and better each year. All I could say when I saw this year's mailing was, "WOW!" Macy looks like a model, and Reece looks so sweet and handsome as ever. And I've never seen Brad or Ainslie take a bad picture ever. They always look great.

Another part of Cappy's family includes Matt and Bernie. I didn't get to see their new baby, but migosh, he looks huge already! The little guy I did see still looks like a sweetie pie. I'll bet his running around is giving his parents fits about now. My Mom always told me to enjoy them while they were little. I tried remembering that when they were going through their terrible two's and three's. Now when I look at this happy little family, it makes me wish I could still put my sweet little "Gruntsy" or my Sookie, or Joe, or Thom on my lap. (they gonna kill me for saying that, especially Dan)

Cappy's cousin Meli took pictures of her kids and her playing in the snow. (I think that's her, too...I can't make the pictures bigger...it'll only save as a bitmap) When we had snow last week, it appears that they got wayyyyy more than we did here in our town.

They handled that snow like a regular ol' Yankee family from upstate New York. LOOK at the size of that thing they are rolling...yow!

And I'm proud of Cappy. In the mailbox yesterday, I found this certificate for him being the local Knights of Columbus knight of the month. Although he's a member, he hardly ever gets to attend, due to his work schedule conflicts. His heart is always with them, tho. When I told him about receiving the honor, he was truly touched, said he didn't know what in the world he could have done to deserve such a privilege. Then in true Cappy humility, he said that they must have run out of candidates to be scraping the bottom of the barrel like that. I told him they weren't scraping the bottom of any ol' barrel, and that we are gonna have it framed! (I covered over his name for discretionary purposes.)Knowing him, how modest he is about such things, he'll probably be embarrassed that I put this on our Blog. It's part of our 'world' so it's going on here; it's for you to know, and for him to find out...(when he gets off the boat).

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

We love road-tripping; it's something we always look forward to because we laugh and sing at the top of our lungs, take in wonderful sights, eat along the road, and just, most of the time, have a carefree time. We took the dogs. SparkyBear and MarkyBear are very good about travel; they look around, doze most of the time, and the only time they complain is when they need to potty or are hungry. They never bawl, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" About the time they need to potty, so do we, or about the time they are hungry, so are we, so it works out great. We listened to our usual Lynyrd Skynyrd road trippin' music, then some Jimmy Buffett, then I surprised Cappy with a ten-hour CD of a book named Redwall. It is a Renaissance period, swashbuckling tale of mice, narrated by actors of British fame, all told with sound effects. The writer has a poetic, intelligent way with words...a great wordsmith. Since I was driving and concentrating on traffic, I missed a lot of it, but what I heard makes me want to listen to it here at home when I get the chance. Good stuff. It accompanied us on the way up and most of the way back. Cappy loved it.
We spent the first night at a hotel just north of Nashville, so as to avoid the rush hour traffic in the morning. We all fell into bed exhausted around midnight. A few hours later, about three a.m. MarkyBear either fell or jumped out of bed, dislocated his good leg and woke us up screaming like a woman! Oh NO! Cappy surmises that since it's a habit of MarkyBear, when everyone is asleep, to sneak out of bed and go foraging for any leftover food SparkyBear may have left in his dish, that in the middle of this particular night he'd gotten the munchies and not knowing how high the bed was, being unfamiliar with it, jumped off in search of goodies. Now we were wide awake trying to decide what to do...turn around and go back home to his vet? We didn't know if he'd broken a hip or what, but he was in pain. We just didn't know what to do. We cuddled him between us and tried to decide what would be the best plan. We woke up about eight o'clock and Cappy said we should continue our trip but find a vet as soon as possible. We gingerly carried the poor boy everywhere. It was hard for him to potty, not being able to 'assume' the postition. So, on we drove. We stayed in another hotel in Erie, coddling him. I'd decided to take him to the veterinary clinic I'd used in Rochester for my other dogs. As soon as we got to Dan's house, we called, and my old vet said they weren't taking any new patients, so we got ahold of Dan and his wife, Jennifer's vet and they said to come right on over. They were only a few minutes away, so it was convenient, as well. What a great place! Dr. Larry Silberg DVM and his staff at Palmyra Animal Hospital took care of MarkyBear and got him out of pain immediately, poor little guy. (We were suffering right along with him the whole time. I had to step out of the room when the doctor gave MarkBear a cortizone shot...Cappy the Braveheart stayed with him.) Though the weather was cold, these people were so very warm and friendly. God Bless them! After I took MarkyBear, SparkyBear and Cappy back to Dan's house, I headed off to spend the day with my daughter Sookie. We'd both been looking forward to a "Mommie and Daughter Day". (Even tho she's in her mid-thirties, she'll always be my little girl.) She had arranged for us to go to a ceramics studio, where she's taken classes, etc. for the last five or so years. What a fun place. She's an artist, anyhow, so her work always looks fabulous. I've never tried it before, but we chatted and laughed and caught up on all the latest news, while we painted. I picked out a gentle "Papa Noel" for my friend, Melissa, for Christmas. I hope she likes it. We had a wonderful time, and looked forward to spending the next day with her and her hubby, Russ, opening our Christmas gifts.

When I got back to Dan's house that night, I discovered Cappy had been having a good/bad time with the boys. Sons, Dan, Thom and Joe were all doing the 'guy' stuff, but in the meantime, our dogs, being downright DAWGS, in the worst sense of the word, had gotten into the cat's kitty litter (GAGGGGGG!!!) and eaten the kitty "cookies", and now had upset stomachs and extreme diarrhea; what the vet called "kitty cat revenge". We were staying in the "in-law apartment" upstairs where, to get up there, two sets of stairs and four doors have to be negotiated. It's an huge house built in the 1800's...1700's?? President Grover Cleveland was said to have been a visitor there and had his picture taken on the spiral staircase. I digress...Cappy could not see himself, when in the middle of the night, one of the dogs having an urgent need to go outside, trying to throw on his clothes, leashing the dogs, fumbling his way down all the stairs and through the doors to get them outside...in time. As it was, they didn't make it and Cappy found himself and Thom down on their hands and knees scrubbing the carpets. Meanwhile I had gotten ahold of wheat somewhere and was lying in bed as sick as I'd ever felt, thinking about going to the hospital emergency room....no help to Cappy, and only making things worse for him. I think he was about in tears by this time. Do you believe in fervent prayer? We do. So. In awhile I was up and 'running'...unbelievable, but true. It was as if a switch had been turned on. One minute I was so ill, just drinking water...the effort made me all shakey and weak and wondering if we should call the EMT's...the next minute...hey!!! all better. God is sooooo good to us! Cappy sent me off to Sookies house, while he stayed and took care of the dogs and got ready for the party the next day. The man insisted. (I'll relate in a later post about my wonderful "Christmas" day with Sookie and Russ.)

When I got back home to Dan's there was a lot going on preparing for the next day's activities. In the middle of all of it, Cappy had spoken to the vet again, and had me cook the dogs rice with lean meat to try to settle their digestive systems and 'firm up' their 'stools'. Cappy's fun had been punctuated by running them outside, sometimes making it in time, sometimes not, then having to get down on all fours and cleaning it up. THEN...he INSISTED on sleeping in his clothes on the carpeted floor 'under' the dining room table with the dogs, because he said, as any fan of the show, 'The Dog Whisperer' knows, that dogs will not go to the bathroom in their sleeping area. He had put up a kiddie gate, so that the dogs couldn't get into the rest of the house, where it is all carpeted, so that the only place they could have an accident was on the linoleum floor in the kitchen. Which they did...several times, as he tried in vain, to rush them outside. He said it was a nightmare to find himself down on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor at three o'clock in the morning. I wanted to sleep down there, too, but he sternly put his foot down against that idea. That man slept down there on the floor...what...three...four(?) nights in a row to make sure the 'boys' got outside when they needed to go. I said that I was going to take a turn sleeping down there with them anyhow! He said that I had hurt his feelings, because what kind of a southern gentleman would he be to allow that. He said it would hurt his dignity for him to sleep upstairs while I slept downstairs on the floor. I always offered anyhow, and he always adamantly declined.

The poor man. His only goal, he said was for me to have a very enjoyable Christmas with my kids. Despite everything, he said that he was enjoying himself, spending time with the guys, family and friends. We both had a memorable time...no dogs next time...I did indeed have a great Christmas with the kids and grandbabies, but felt so very bad for Cappy. I learned a lot about him that week, and am speechless about his unselfish giving nature. But now, he's happy, so I guess I'm happy. As it is with us here in Cappy and Pegody's World, we had an "Awful Wonderful" 'Christmas in New York.