Thursday, February 27, 2014

Pizza Anyone?

 
Chloe look-a-like from the web.
 
 
I am restless. That is a great sign I am doing well. I can't rest much longer, although technically I have to take it easy. Next week I find out if I can drive. I've occupied myself with promoting my new book, Danger In Her Words, online and am working on my dog memoir. Later today I will post on my book blog, Book Talk With Barbara Barth, where I love to promote other authors. Perhaps I'll list on Ebay. When you are confined to your home with six canine companions it is a great time to think about the past and look towards the future. Surgery has a way of putting things in perspective. It also is a bit tedious if you are used to going full speed ahead! My wheels are spinning...but I am in park.
 
Friends have visited, their bright smiles making me happy. I spent the entire day before surgery cleaning a house that has needed to be cleaned for two years. Not of dirt, I do sweep and dust, but of all the merchandise that needed to leave my house so people could fit in. My antique dealer friends understand what that is all about. I find it amazing that it took a bit of surgery to open up more than I realized. I've wanted to entertain in my home, but between the dogs and my stuff, it has been talk, just talk. Now it is a reality.
 
How funny to me that last Saturday night, in my jammies, surrounded by dogs, a good friend came over for dinner and a movie. A first in, hmmm...four years. The dogs behaved well, the movie was hysterical. I laughed until I thought my sides would split, a pillow tucked close to my stomach. Then, later, alone, I looked at my sparkling hardwood floors, the gentle light from a few lamps highlighting their sheen, my antique cottage pieces no longer stacked high with 'stuff', and the art on my walls nodding back to me as if to say...about damn time.
 
The dogs are slowly bossing me around again. First Chloe had her breakdown and had to sleep with me. Two nights later I heard Bertha barking in her crate in the living room. It was three in the morning. I think she'd had it sleeping away from the others. She is crated at night, but in the bedroom. She felt exiled in the living room. I pulled myself out of bed and stumbled into the living room. "Good girl, Bertha." I reached down, bending as little as possible, and unhooked her crate. Bertha, all seventy-five pounds of her, trotted down towards the bedroom and into her open crate. She did a few circles, plopped down, and went to sleep. I pulled myself back into my bed.
 
Ten minutes later the racket from the sunroom was more than I could ignore. I pulled myself back up (and that is the hardest part of my surgery, getting up and down). Annabelle, my dear old hound, was barking, she could not find a spot on the couch, the others were there. I let Annabelle follow me back up the hall. She got her chunky butt up on the low bench at the foot of my bed, crawled under my quilt, and fell asleep. Chloe, of course, had to screech a few minutes that Annabelle crawled into the very spot Chloe had been sleeping. I pulled myself back to bed. We all slept well.
 
Three dogs back in the bedroom, three more to come. I'm getting there slowly.
 
The day looms ahead. I'll be here by myself with the dogs, figuring what to do to feel in touch with civilization. I have been so fortunate that my best friend for years, is a chef. She prepared twenty-six individual cooked and frozen gourmet meals, and I have eaten the healthiest and tastiest food one could imagine. I'd have been lost without her kindness, for I never cook and my cupboards are bare. (except for vintage treasures tucked in where food should be!).

I've been very good. Eating the right foods, not drinking soda, glass after glass of water. I feel good. My system loves how healthy I've been eating. My mind is tempting me today. Be bad, have fun. Should I, could I, would I? I think the answer is yes.
 
Tonight I'm thinking Pizza. Anyone care to join me?