Dennis

I wish I could share a photo of Dennis, our local rooster. I don't know where he lives. I don't know what he looks like. His name is not actually Dennis, but whatever. He never shuts his effing beak, and he chatters all day like a cross between a rooster and a cartoon donkey.

This morning mrguy noticed an absence of Dennis. But he's back. We named him after Denise (also not her name), the gigantic parrot that the mom next door got as a pet during the pandemic. She was the bane of our existence for several years. Imagine that the already kinda loud neighbors add a parrot to the mix when we're all stuck at home. That was like a meat fork to the brain. And occasionally she'd bring Denise out into the yard for some fresh air. But then at some point mom seemed to move to another house with Denise and Chebelo (real name: Chebelo. wifi name: Chebelo). Mom and Chebelo come home in the mornings to walk the neighborhood but luckily Denise has not returned with them. Chebelo is very barky, but their new dog, New Dog, (not real name) came to be a very nice boy once he grew to adulthood. I actually enjoy it when he chews his squeaky toy in the side yard.

Anyhoo, when one annoying bird in the neighborhood was replaced by a rooster, we named him Dennis. Clearly a boy...

Today is a lovely day. A friend drove mrguy to his Saturday 5:30pm steroid infusion. That was beyond delightful. I cooked and I watched stupid shows on my new computer and thought about washing my car but didn't, and I drank beer. No beer again once mrguy is doing chemo this week. I have to be on my toes.

And that's ok!

This morning mrguy was a total goof. He sang a Starhawk song that I can't get out of my head, replacing the words "fleet as the roebuck his breath draws us near" with "he does the Robot, his moves draw us near". 

Then there was Day 2 in a series we'll call Huevos Estados in which I make mrguy a cheese omelette for breakfast and he cuts his omelette into the shape of various US states. Feast your eyes upon "South Carolina":

The eggs, by the way, were a gift from our friends who have lots of chickens (best chicken name ever? Aquanetta). They dropped off some eggs the other day on the chair on the front porch where we give away lemons to the neighborhood. The Rev came by this week and gave us some blood oranges from her native land of Los Alamitos. Her dad planted the tree many years ago and these oranges are precious treasures. Her mom sent along a beautiful note, as well, about how she's thinking of us. It's nice that there are moms out there wishing us well. My own is in looloo land, tormenting her captors.

Over at the Fun Factory, mom is up to her old tricks. The situation with our suspended caregiver is still up in the air, and the fill-in caregivers are distressing to her and her behavior is escalating again. The nurses at her facility are speaking directly with my mom's doctor to get her more drugs. In the meantime, it is illegal in our state to physically or medically restrain someone. I think of how those regulations affect my mom and the world around her. If she were allowed to be medicated, sleepy and in bed, tended to by her amazing caregivers, that would be a better life for her. Instead she is awake and spends part of every day arguing, insulting, striking and spitting. She is also venomous -- last week she spat in her caregiver's eye and it caused an eye infection. For real. She is the Kamodo dragon of parents and is furiously alive.

Impressive!