Skip to main content

More Rivers

We went to a different river for a walk this morning. I bet when you go walking you don't see signs like this:


This means that if Mt. Rainier is about to blow her top, we should seek high ground. We have volcano evacuation route signs all around our town as well. You know, just in case. Like there would be time to get out, considering the traffic situation around here. It's not pretty. On days when the mountain isn't blowing up you can't get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. But I digress...

Here's Cassie in the back of the suburban as we got gas. She's not pleased. Did I mention she's not a good traveler? No, she's not. I swear she coats the entire back of the vehicle in her slobber. I call this Fear Slobber. It's everywhere.


So we walked along the Carbon River. What does Cassie do right off the bat? Oh yeah. She squatted right in the middle of the path. She couldn't go over to the grass? Nooooooo. And just to show you that we are good pet owners, I snapped these photos. So if you see any doggie doo down there, don't blame us. Nope. Not us.



And lest you think I was lying about the river, here is a man and his dog. It's a beautiful thing.


This from the bridge...


Then we (I) limped on back to our vehicle. My knees do not like me right now, but I'm not listening to them. They're going to have to suck it up and work like they're supposed to work.

I hate getting old(er).


  1. "Here's Cassie in the back of the suburban as we got gas. She's not pleased"
    Much as I would love to go out for the day with you, I would not be pleased to be in the back of your vehicle (suburban is an adjective not a noun, dear) if you all got gas.
    I hope that this helps.

  2. Yes, we may have exceedingly high petrol prices but thankfully we are bereft of working volcanos. Is 50ft high enough? I didn't realise that pyroclastic flow was that discerning as to pick low-lying land!


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…