Thursday, December 25
The plan for this Christmas morning is to take Bridget to Bachelor Cove on Roosevelt Lake where she can frolic along the shore. Yesterday, as we pass the cove, I noticed that the beach is deserted. Great! All those campers left!
“We’ll go to the beach tomorrow,” I tell Bridget. “It’s too late to go there today.”
In the morning I scratch that plan.
It’s too cold and grey for frolicking along the lake. Instead Bridget and I keep warm all Christmas Day inside the Best Little Trailer.
Christmas morning I cook pork slices in a skillet for Bridget.
I chop the pork into tiny pieces, just the way she likes it, and then present the small paper plate of morsels to Her Regal Preciousness (or is it Her Precious Regalness?) who waits impatiently at my feet.
“Merry Christmas, honey.” She snorks and smacks up that pork with gusto!
I indulge myself with an apple turnover (actually two turnovers!) to accompany cups of freshly perked coffee. As if the turnovers aren’t sweetness enough, I open up this blog and scroll down to read with delight the many sweet messages that have come in from blogorinos, near and far.
What a treat to see your name appear!
The merry messages on my computer monitor remind me of the Christmas cards my mother used to display in the days leading up to Christmas. She’d tack up string and every day the newest batch of cards would be hung on it, creating cheery, (and free) garlands on the walls and around door jambs.
“Which one is your favorite?” my two sisters and I would ask each other as we examined the colorful cards. “I like this one the BEST! . . . No, THIS one is the best . . . .”
Sigh, girlish voices from the past . . .
Well, I don’t have a favorite from the batch of wishes sent to Bridget and me for Christmas this year. That’s because I love them all! Thank you! I hope your holiday held special meaning for you, whatever your circumstances may be this year.
Friday, December 26
Off we go to walk the shore of Roosevelt Lake.
Well, there’s enough room for us not to bother them. I find a place to park where the ground is firm.
Freshwater shells litter the ground. Bridget is excited, of course. We walk along the shoreline. I take photos and Bridget takes note of the smells.
Some sort of tumbleweed is caught at the water’s edge. In the photo below Bridget probably reads a message left by a recent canine visitor.
Of course, whenever I predict what we will do, we often don’t do it!
I found a candidate who might qualify. The “rescue” organization is asking $300. Doesn’t that seem a bit steep for a mixed-breed dog? The dog has been neutered and given its shots. Micro-chipping is not mentioned in the dog’s description.
I hesitate for two reasons.
The dog may be too small (12 lbs.) for the lifestyle of a crew member. The price, although not beyond my reach, makes me uncomfortable. Maybe that’s the going rate for Phoenix. I don’t know. I don’t want to support any enterprise that’s not a rescue, but in reality a profit-making venture using the name of “rescue.” Maybe I shouldn’t care about that. Hmm . . . .
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