Okay, I’m not actually dying. But I’ve been feeling like I am. I came up to Sonoma yesterday with a To-Do list as long as my arm, only to be slammed with a flu that left me aching in every joint and so weak I couldn’t attempt even the simplest tasks. My headache was so severe and so impervious to any kind of medication that I spent most of the day lying in a darkened room unable even to focus my thoughts. But there’s always energy for blogging. So here’s what I was able to do as I waited to see if my supply of Day-Quil would outlast my symptoms.
Remember how I’ve forgiven Kevin Costner his sins since he helped me teach my tutorees about the buffalo? Good thing, because he produced an excellent eight hour documentary on the Native American history of North America that occupied much of my downtime.
While not as poetic or beautifully filmed as the Ken Burns produced "The West", Kev's documentary is an eye-opening look at the diversity and sophistication of Native American societies before Columbus and the heartbreaking history after Europeans arrived.
It's not a feel-good story. It helps to watch it with a very cute and cuddly terrier or two.
Several hours into the genocide, I just had to get out into the sunshine. After another dose of DayQuil, I thought I just might be able to make it up the hill for the half mile walk to Flying Terrier Farms to check on my garden’s progress. It felt like the Bataan Death March.
It was worth it to find out that there are blossoms on the summer squash.
I certainly wasn't up to any gardening. Luckily, Gnomey was looking out for the Lemon Cucumbers.
The corn is as high as a terrier's eye...er tail. Actually, even higher.
And little pollinators are out and about doing their thing. They are especially loving the Matilija Poppies.
Whew! And that was about all the energy I had to spare.
Back to the barn to stare at the walls. At least they are wonderful walls.
Then Kevin led me through a few more hours of genocide.
Which makes me feel that, once I get the energy, I probably owe it to Native Americans to find the nearest reservation casino and gamble away a few hundred dollars.
Or add to my ever-growing collection of Native American art.
I’ll get right on that. As soon as I can move again.
Don’t kick off just yet, you’re gonna have to watch Costner in The Hatfields and McCoys!
Already did, Jeffro. Right to the very end. It started off good, but was just too many hours of hillbillies for me.
And an awful lot of hours of “…and then Uncle Jim Vance killed So’n’So McCoy, so the McCoys took revenge. And then Uncle Jim Vance killed him another McCoy, so the McCoys took revenge.” It seems like a lot of blood could have been saved if someone would have just locked up that nasty Uncle Jim Vance. He was one rabid sumbitch.
Last night, poor Cotton’s daddy got kilt. Poor Cotton. He’s about the only truly likable Hatfield, although it’s possible to feel sympathy for Johnsy.
I hope you’re feeling better soon. I’m glad the terriers are on nursing duty.