Hallelujah and pass the lug nuts

Not that often anymore Sarah comes over to see us, and usually it's mixed in with a holiday or other large family get-together -- so it was a treat to have her to ourselves for two days this month.

She brought her car over, so B could help her with a brake job. It was during the week so we had to work during the day but we had evenings together and she had time during the day to hang out with Travis.

Both Travis and Sarah show aptitude for mechanics, no doubt some genetic thing inherited from their fathers, but I don't think they enjoy it much. It's just a means to an end. 

Regardless, it was a fine few days. B was  in hog heaven, working on cars with some of his kids. Even after long days at work he was revved up to spend several more hours in the garage, talking bearings and pads and getting greasy.

It's the little things, isn't it?

Fetch me some cheese and whine

Kodiak: "What do you mean picnics aren't for dogs?"

No kids, good weather, off work = chores around the house.

We did slip away for a couple hours one evening, packed a delicious picnic, a couple of chairs and headed off. We hiked to a quiet riverside spot near Cline Falls and noshed and talked, with the rushing water providing a relaxing backdrop.
Then we pulled out the traveling Scrabble game and matched wits while tossing a stick into the river for Kodiak...over and over and over again.
Maybe summer is nearly here.

Holidays are for relaxing?

Brian, Josh, Aunt B, Mom-Nancy and Jess try for a ringer

Wow, Memorial Weekend was a busy one in the Troutehole household. Saturday we spent pretty much the entire day celebrating Jessie's 15th. We went clothes/jewelry shopping and took her to get her ears pierced (2nd time around). She was really excited about that. Then dinner out at the place of her choosing, a wonderful pizza/flatbread place next to the Deschutes River.

After taking a breath we spent a chunk of Sunday with B's mom and aunt; they came up to see us and celebrate Jess's big day. We had planned for a nice picnic but the weather was...iffy. So instead of packing an entire meal to a park that might get rained out we split the difference: we spent a couple of hours at a local park, playing horseshoes and volleyball - both very badly. Well, me very badly on both, everybody pretty bad on volleyball. Horseshoes was  a mixed bag, depending on experience and dumb luck.
Then we headed back to the house to barbecue some burgers and chow down, in the safe confines of the house (which we didn't need because it didn't rain after all).
THEN, I stayed home and dug into a sewing project while Brian headed to Bend to take the kids to the Decemberist's concert. It was their very first music concert of anything resembling current, popular music. B was very excited to expose them to that (remembering how much he, and me, loved going to concerts as teens), and they were excited to go. Reportedly, it was a huge success, lots of fun but cold.
Monday we drove to Crooked River Ranch for B's scout troop's flag ceremony, which took a chunk of the morning. Needless to say, the afternoon was devoted to recovery.

Bonnie Files: The Last Chapter

Bonnie 1994-2011.

We had just finished another round of testing, new medications, phone conversations with the vet. We had the tough conversations, the ones where we discussed how far to go, how deep to take the measures to prolong Bonnie's life.

She was having another crisis, another bad day when we wondered if this was it. But it had happened before and she had rallied so we called the vet in the morning and went to work.

And that's when she died, stretched out on a blanket in the dog run, on a sunny day with a slight breeze, all alone.

And that is what bothered us the most. Not that her last year was hit and miss as far as her health, not that we didn't do everything we could to make her happy and feeling good. But that we weren't there for her in her last moments. Not that putting her down was a thing we wanted to do but at least she wouldn't have been alone and we could have comforted her and she us.


But hindsight is never very useful and we had to move on. Brian placed her on a clean bed and put that inside a Methow apple box -- so fitting, we thought. He took her to the vet and she was cremated; her ashes came back in a tiny polished wooden box that will be buried with Grandma and Grandpa Hole in Methow Valley.

It must be age, or maturity, or numbness but death doesn't hit me the way it used to. It seems like part of the plan, not a happy event but something that has to happen for all the rest to see fruition. Even the bodies of the dead don't unnerve me like they used to when I was younger.

Looking at Bonnie nestled in her apple box was not sad but it was not dispassionate either. It just was. She looked exactly like Bonnie, but she didn't. It was like looking at  Bonnie suit, whose owner had just unzipped the cover and stepped away.

To me that's the most comforting thing about death, seeing the body -- it's so obvious that your loved one is no longer there. You know they have left and they are at peace.