“Remoted” – Day 398 (Sunday)

Being a Sunday, I was not able to regale innocent and unsuspecting listeners with random bits of Longfellow’s poem “Paul Revere’s Ride.” It’s fun to insert, “On the 18^th of April in seventy-five …hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year” into routine conversations. Or maybe that’s just me. The effect is not the same with no audience. The dogs don’t respond to my poetic ramblings like they do when they hear “meatball time” each morning at 7:00 and race into the kitchen. Moose gets his Vetoryl in a wet food meatball and Winston gets corresponding meatballs because it’s fair.

Today is the five-year anniversary of the day I started working at the bank. It’s been a great career chapter so far. Last month I was surprised by an email with a link to choose an anniversary gift. There were 45 items to choose from including luggage, grill tools, various jewelry items, and a bunch of other things I can’t remember. I chose a watch. 

In 2009 on this date, The Jezebellies danced in the afternoon at the popular annual Rivers and Spires Festival in Clarksville, Tennessee. That year we were at The Courthouse Stage – and we were allowed ON the stage instead of dancing in front of the stage. The view from up there was pretty cool. After our performance, a man from the Middle East came up to thank our group leader with tears in his eyes, because he was so happy to have heard music from his region of the world.

Winston the burrito.

Today had no dancing or celebrations. The notable events for this 18^th of April, and I use the term loosely, were the weekly harvest of dog poop from the yard in advance of weekly trash pickup, and falling asleep on the couch with the dogs for a couple hours during the afternoon. The falling asleep part of the day was never intended to last as long as it did, and resulted in missing a family gathering. By the time I woke up, it was 1.5 hours past the start time, and the gathering was 40 minutes away. 

There were feelings of guilt over missing the family event, but I couldn’t roll back the clock or time travel, so they were neither timely nor helpful feelings. Shortly after waking from the napping, I returned to the living room to find Winston had burrito wrapped himself in the couch throw. In Tennessee, he used to disappear and I would find him in my bed, neatly tucked under the covers. He is a talented pup.

The weeds in the back yard are growing in lush clumps, so it will be time to mow soon. The grass and patches of clover in between the weeds are less prolific. The front yard still looks like a dirt lot. The greenery marking the location of irises and lilies fared well through the snow and slush on Friday, and there is hope for the flowers to come, which is the fun of spring. Hopefully, I won’t sleep through that, too.