Every time we go somewhere, I feel like I'm organizing D-Day. Last night it was cleaning out the bird cage and starting the packing, this morning after dog walking and breakfast, James went off to get the oil in the truck changed and have it washed and I set timers, packed a couple of jackets, locked everything up, overrode the thermostat, made the bed, cleaned off the sink, took out the trash, sprayed the can with Lysol, filled water bottles, got the bird cage ready for transport—oh, yeah, and I went to Kroger so we won't have to go on Sunday. It's loathsome when we have to go grocery shopping on the way home from anywhere.

By the time James told me he was on his return leg, I had Tucker outside on the leash and Snowy in the carry box, with the cage now in one of the 50 gallon trash bags I went out to buy (it needed it for safe transport to the vet). Snowy enthusiastically bit my hand before he noticed the mirror in the carry box. I took  them on a short walk, and Snowy was amazedly looking around at blue sky and houses when the hawk came lazing overhead and then he tamped his feathers down with big eyes.

Loaded up the truck with the usual efficiency (which means we looked like a clown circus act, and it didn't help when Tucker spotted "his deadly enemy the German Shepherd" being walked down by the cul-de-sac and burst into a salvo of barks), we made our way through the neighborhood and across town. Tucker got so excited that he kept bouncing on my left leg and jostling the carry box, so Snowy hurt his foot on some gravel perch covers I had in the box to help him hold on to them, since his little feet are crippled from the too-small nest box when he was a chick. It made his lame foot bleed briefly, but he didn't seem to notice it so deep was his lust over seeing the mirror. (I took his cage mirror away from him. He's the only budgie I've ever had where the mirror made him aggressive. When Snowy's hormones kicked in, they kicked in good. With Tucker in the house it's like an overflow of testosterone.)

So we arrived at the vet hungry and a little worse for wear. Tucker decided he liked the vet tech better than the daddy that kept admonishing him for jumping on my leg and walked off with her as if he had not a care in the world. They used to have to practically drag poor Willow away. A funny: I had to get Snowy out of the carry box and into the cage and he nipped at me again as I did so, but I took a breath and got him in. Well, he stayed attached to my left hand, which I had cupped like a bowl to hold him, biting one finger after the other in precision order. The funny thing was that he wasn't fastening on very hard, just grabbing each finger in turn, so it really didn't hurt, and I kept tipping him toward the perch and saying, "Snowy, let go," "C'mon, Snowy, let go," "Please let go," and then I lifted him up toward his toy "girlfriend" and he finally abandoned me to sing sweetly to her (probably telling her all about the trip across town). He's too funny. I loved him in the car; he just sang away and he doesn't get frightened by the landscape going by. Even Bandit had to be a little bit covered because the world going by him in a blur unsettled him, but Snowy doesn't mind it at all.

And then they were gone.

We were going to stop for lunch, but by this time it was around two and rush hour—and in some ways Thursday's rush hour is worse than Friday's—would be commencing shortly. So we headed up GA400 and finally stopped in Dawsonville near the North Georgia Premium Outlets to pick up a small plain burger for  me and a grilled chicken sandwich for James, gaping at the new construction. The Wendy's we stopped at used to be in the same parking lot with a Kroger, but that is now closed and a bigger one opened approaching the Outlets, across the street from a brand-new Publix, both in sprawling shopping centers.

And then so quickly after that it becomes roads lined with trees, soothing countryside with horse farms and boiled peanut stands and little antique shops and little white country churches and expanses of grass and the Appalachians in the distance, just a nice happy ride. It's been a nice coolish day, a skein of white cirrus clouds across the blue sky, just perfect for a ride.

We arrived at the hotel and settled into the room, then wandered out to the lobby where we saw Juanita and the Spiveys arrive, followed shortly by "the kids." The hotel was having an evening reception where they served soup and some drinks; we had a bowl of the potato soup each. As folks began to trickle in, we gathered in the lobby and decided to go to Big Daddy's for supper. We ate there last year and the food is pretty good. (No one wanted to go to Paul's because they'd quit serving the all-you-can-eat crab legs.) James had a peach-salsa jerk pork chop with beans and rice and I had a lobster pizza. It was a fun evening.

When we got back Nancy was here, but she's been having health problems and didn't stick around long. Juanita and Shari and the "kids" (none of them are anymore, but it's hard to think of them otherwise; we feel so venerable nowadays) played Farkle in the common room for a while, then went off to take a turn in the hot tub. I put Cabin Pressure on, but after all the drama with the fids this morning, the yawns are coming thick and fast. If no one comes soon, it's time to trot off to bed. We're thinking of doubling back tomorrow and going to the Outlet stores. I need underwear and James' only pair of jeans got caught on a door at Anachrocon last year and tore beyond repair.

Labels: birds, dogs, excursions, food, friends, pets, radio drama

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 11:11:00 PM

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