Farewell to Summer

The calendar says there are another four weeks left until the start of the fall season, but I beg to differ. Summer has departed. The sunlight has changed in intensity and duration. Cooler temperatures have arrived. This morning the heat came on in our house. If you live in the Pacific Northwest, it is time to get out and enjoy these last precious golden days before the rainy gray arrives.

It’s been an odd summer. Yet another rough patch in a rather dreadful year in the Asbell household. It began last autumn with BRCA1 test results, continued with the death of my father-in-law five days before Christmas and then came the January surgical hell followed by the July surgery purgatory. In between more dreadful cancer crap happened to members of my family and to friends. Still, there were some delightful experiences and special moments. This is the way life works.

At the start of summer in blistering heat, I watched my youngest niece graduate from high school.

My beautiful nieces and great-niece celebrating graduation day.

The bookend to summer came two weeks after surgery #6 for this year. I sat with old friends poolside, sipped fine wine and supped on grilled steak. While he sampled a 1996 Turley Black Sears Zin, Jim decided the Black Sears vineyard would be a fitting place to spread his ashes when he’s gone. This led to a lively talk about the kind of stuff that only old geezers discuss, namely death and bucket lists. Morose? No way. It was funny and revealing. I continue to learn things about old friends, my husband and myself. And where did the group decide that my ashes should go? Autzen Stadium. Yes, that’s right. I will be one with my Ducks football team. They were kidding, of course. Then again…why not? Summer is over rated. I love autumn. GO DUCKS!!!

Hot summer night pool party.

 

 

Home Sweet Home

There are three lazy cats in my household who sleep around the clock. They each have their preferred spots. The old geezer cat likes sunshine or anywhere warm. The girl cat prefers hidey-holes away from the boys. The young male likes plenty of elbow room. He’s a rather large fellow. I believe I am turning into a cat since I have slept more than the Three Musketeers these last few days. Boy am I tired.

On Thursday it will be off to the plastic surgeon’s office. I plan to do nothing more strenuous than a short walk or two until then. Things are healing well and compared to my last adventure in surgery, I feel great. Just pooped. Only 39 more days until the Oregon Ducks football season gets underway. I must get my rest.

Miss Bubble is not amused.