Saturday - November 30, 2024

Both of our sons are in the middle of big projects.  A few weeks ago, Son #1 began to "tune up" the truck we bought for The Grandson.  He disassembled the thing and discovered it was gunked up something awful.  He cleaned all the parts and re-assembled the engine, and it wouldn't work.  No one is sure what happened.  He ended up buying a used motor to replace it.  This weekend's problem was getting the motor off the trailer.  He borrowed the "cherry picker" from Nanny's shop, only to discover that the hydraulic component was shot.  Yesterday morning, The Husband went out in search of a new hydraulic thing.  He was lunchtime getting back with it.

As soon as The Husband had eaten a sandwich, he went across the road to help Son #2 with his remodeling project - tearing out sub-flooring and shoring up floor joists.  They worked until 11:30 last night.

What was I doing all this time?  Babysitting the LRB and Granddaughter #3. Ten-year-old #3 had no problem amusing herself in my sewing room. (She has her own tub of fabric scraps.)  The LRB needed a little more attention.  We painted, read books, rode the rocking horse that Pop-Pop built for Granddaughter #1 almost 20 years ago.

The girls went home about 8:00.  The Husband and I cooked a frozen pizza, then he went back across the road to work on the house some more.  At 10:30, I went to bed, and never heard him when he finally came home.  

I hear hammering across the road.  Today's job will be laying floor covering.  I can probably help with that.

Brrrr! - November 29, 2024

We had Thanksgiving dinner at noon today with The Husband's extended family - his paternal grandmother's people.  Since the "old ones" died, the younger generation (now mostly in their 80s) seldom sees one another, but Cousin Gus throws a big stomp for this family twice a year - Thanksgiving and 4th of July.  It's always so good to get together.  Gus fried two turkeys and baked one.  His wife makes the BEST cornbread dressing.  Everyone brought a dish or two.  Mine were scalloped potatoes and a pecan cobbler.  

Mid-afternoon, we noticed that Son #2 and his family were across the road, working on the house, so we walked over to see if we could help.  #2 and Granddaughter #1 were in the process of tearing out of sub-flooring in this old house.  The Husband jumped in to help.  With the sub-flooring torn out, the house was cold.  My contribution to the renovation effort was to bring the LRB to my house.

Earlier in the week, I'd found a 24-piece jigsaw puzzle that I'd worked with the older granddaughters and thought to keep it out for the LRB, who will be 4 in a couple of months.  I showed it to her as soon as we got here, and she was gung-ho to try it.  We worked it three times before she got bored and noticed these guys atop a cabinet:

They have been around this house far longer than the LRB has been in the world.  She'd been asking about them for a year or so, but I'd always diverted her attention.  Yesterday, she insisted on knowing what they were.  When I told her what they do, she insisted on a demonstration.  I got the red one down, filled a cup of water, soaked the bird's head, and set him by the cup to do his thing.  We waited and waited, and finally he began to tilt toward the cup, but he stopped before he got there.  We waited some more.  He would not do it.  About 10 minutes had gone by when Granddaughter #1 came in and reminded me that one of the two birds hadn't worked right when she was a kid.  So I got down the green one, soaked his head in the cup, and set him down by it.  We all three watched with bated breath as the green liquid started to ease up the tube (the red one had done that, too), and when it reached the top and the bird flopped downward, the LRB let out a delighted scream (as only little girls can do!) that nearly busted all our eardrums.  We watched him do it a couple more times before the girls had to go.

They'll be working on the house again today, and it's COLD, so I'll go get her if they don't drop her off.  One guess what we'll do when she gets here.

I should go figure out why the red bird won't work.

 

La

Thanksgiving Eve - November 27, 2024

Monday, I went to my workroom long enough to load up three boxes of Phase 1 reports to bring home.  By 7 a.m. yesterday, I was sorting them on my kitchen table.  The table isn't quite big enough to get the job done, so the work branched out to the countertops and stovetop.  By mid-afternoon, the records had been sorted into A-B-C piles, but I didn't get around into sorting each pile alphabetically.  I put each pile into its own folder and stuffed them back into the boxes.  I'll get to them . . . sometime.

Over the weekend, my niece had brought me four jackets on which she wanted her company logo and department name embroidered.  I digitized the logo Sunday and started the embroidery process yesterday afternoon.  All went well until the last item, a quilted, tuft-y nylon vest.  After embroidering the logo, the embroidery machine tried to eat the vest when it started sewing the department name.  Part of the vest lining was wadded up (along with a bird nest of thread) between the throat plate and the bobbin.  I had to pry up the throat plate (hard to do when it's trapped under the embroidery hoop) and cut the thread nest out with a scalpel.  Luckily, I managed to do that without slicing the vest, itself.  The machine had embroidered half of the letter "R."  It took about an hour to pick the stitches out.  The embroidery machine had made a little hole in the nylon fabric when it jammed.  It might have been possible to re-start the embroidery process at the point where things went sideways, but I was afraid I'd only make it worse.  Since the jacket is tuft-y, the hole isn't all that visible.  Miss Niece will just have a logo without a department name on that vest.  Or wear a scarf.  ;)

Granddaughter #1 came home from college for Thanksgiving.  She (and her rescued dog) knocked on our door at 7:30 last night.  She and her family are across the road this morning, working on the house.  She knocked on the door at 7 this morning to borrow toilet paper.  It's going to be a long day of renovation work.

I should probably go across the road and see if the Little Rotten Baby wants to come to my house, to get her out of the way.

Lollygagging - November 25, 2024

I am lollygagging this morning.  Friday afternoon, I texted the dude who has been letting me in the building at 7 every morning and told him that I would not be there so early today.  All I intend to do once I get there is load up a year's worth of Phase I reports and bring them home to sort.  That workroom may not see me again until after Thanksgiving.

Yesterday after lunch, The Husband and Cousin David showed up.  David had asked The Husband to help him unload some furniture and then drive him back down here to pick up a car.  When they came in, I said to them, "I bet Son #2 would like some help with his renovation work."  David high-tailed it out of here. The Husband and I went across the road to help.

In addition to other remodeling, #2 is taking out two walls, opening up the front rooms of the house into one large room.  One of the walls had a brick hearth that went all the way to the ceiling (a wood stove once sat there).  #2 and The Husband sledge-hammered the bricks and hauled them out in a wheelbarrow.  While they did that, I took up carpet tack strips and staples from the floors. 

I do not have a single finger that doesn't have something wrong with it. Cuts.  Blood blisters.  Bruises.  Splinters.  These, on top of the arthritis and the sliced cuticles from the file job at work.  My hands are screaming, "Enough,already!"  

If I'd had good sense, I'd have worn gloves.

But nobody ever accused me of having good sense.  ;)

Sunday Morning - November 24, 2024

I did not sleep very well last night.  The problem was my hands.  They've taken a beating for the last few weeks.  

"Arthur" plagues my hands.  At work, reaching into tightly-packed file boxes, gripping the tops of as many files as I can (slicing my cuticles in the process), and tugging them out - that's hard to do with compromised grip strength and made my entire arms hurt.  Last week, I nearly ripped a mole off the back of my hand when it connected with a sharp corner inside a file cabinet.  Yesterday, at #2's house, I pried and hammered, sustaining a few lovely blood blisters and bruises.  Hauling broken tile to the trash gifted me with several cuts that are sore as heck today.  My hands throbbed all night.

This morning, I swallowed some Tylenol with my breakfast, gearing up for another day of de-construction.

Renovating Begins - November 23, 2024

Whew...the past few days have been a whirlwind.

Yesterday, I almost finished the file project.  There are maybe a dozen files on the table that need to be put in place, but all of the years are in the cabinets, and (hopefully) in numerical order.  The next job is to finish alphabetizing the Phase I reports.  It is getting uncomfortably cold in my unheated workspace, so I will be bringing these reports home to sort out.

After work yesterday, The Husband said he had agreed to help Cousin David with some chores this weekend.  I was a bit irked that he'd agreed to do it.  For one thing, Cousin David lives two hours away.  For another, Son #2 and his family are across the road, working on the house they just bought - tearing down walls, ripping out carpet, prying up tiles.  The Husband and Cousin David need to be helping them.

After The Husband left, I walked across the road and offered to help.  I pulled up carpeting from one room and pried up all the nail strips (that was a b*tch).  About the time I finished that job, Son #2 started trying to remove the tile from the kitchen floor.  That was a worse job!  Son #1 showed up to help, and we managed to get the tile off the floor with a sledgehammer and some pry bars.  Then we had to haul the debris to the dump - two trailer loads.

I am whipped!

I came home about dark and started a pot of taco soup.  It's simmering on the stove.  In a bit, I'm going to shower off the construction dust, have a bowl of soup, and call it a day.

A Big Day - November 20,2024

This day is notable for a couple of reasons.  

One, Son #2's family formally gains ownership of the house across the street from us.  The house is livable as is, if one could abide 1980s mauve carpeting in the main rooms.  #2's family of 6 (5 females and 1 male) (plus 3 dogs) has been living in a rental house with three bedrooms and one bath.  The house across the road from us has 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms.  The house has been added-to over the years, and so the arrangement of the rooms is a little weird, but it's kind of cool, too. #2 wants to move some walls and lay flooring and build countertops and stuff like that.  The house comes with a workshop and a few tools.  #2 is over the moon about the workshop.  :)

Two, I got some sh*t done at work today.  My daily goal has been to get one year's worth of records in the file cabinets and get the next year ready to sort.  Every day I've thought, tomorrow's going to be worse, but today I thought that the worst of the work might be behind me.  There are only a couple more years to go, and their volume is lower.  Besides that, I have become a number-sorting MACHINE and can knock out a pile of files in nothing flat.  2019 is in the cabinets, and 2020 is on the table, ready to sort, so at noon I said, Screw this," and came home.

 

Tuesday - November 19, 2024

Son #2 and his wife are buying the house across the road from us.  This house first belonged to The Husband's grandparents, then his aunt and uncle.  Tomorrow is the closing date.  I'm excited that The Granddaughters will be living close enough to walk to my house when they get the notion.  They've already moved a few things into the garage.  My son wants to do a little bit of work to the house - e.g., take up the 1980s mauve carpet and replace it with other flooring - before they fully move in.  

My work project is progressing steadily.  This afternoon, the 2018 files went into the cabinets, and about half of the 2019 files have been sorted into months.  By Thanksgiving, I may have all the files done.

 

Houseplants - November 17, 2024

The Thanksgiving cactus on the living room windowsill is setting buds!  It's a miracle the poor thing survives. It was a grocery store impulse purchase a couple of years ago, blooming its head off when I got it.  To my mind, it would be a one-season deal, for I did not expect it to live much beyond the bloom.  And here it is, still kicking.  It must appreciate extended periods of neglect.  It gets a tiny shot of water every time its neighbors (African violets) droop over the sides of their pots.

Last year at Nanny's Christmas breakfast, Son #1's family gave me a cute planter with live succulents in it.  They gave Nanny one just like it.  Neither of us had much experience with succulents (except for my Thanksgiving cactus).  We were told that all the plants needed was a once-a-month misting.  In the hubbub of the morning, I came home without my planter, and it was spring before I thought to bring it home.  It contained a couple of "hen & chicks" and one tube-like thing that looked like it ought to be growing on the sea floor.  By the time I took custody, the "hen & chicks" looked kind of like palm trees - long "trunks" with a whorl of leaves at the top.  The other thing - whatever it is - was kind of . . . pleated . . . and the tops of the tubes were slightly recessed; I thought maybe that was its water-catching mechanism.  I set it on the back porch and faithfully misted it all summer.  A couple of weeks ago, when night temperatures got cool, I brought it inside and set it on the windowsill above the sink, where the Richard Simmons Chia Head usually lives, and where a florescent light burns 24/7.  

Every time I go to the sink, I see this planter and think that the tube-like thing must be the ugliest plant I've ever seen.  Two days ago, a succulent plant care video popped up in some feed, and I watched it.  It turns out that a once-a-month misting is NOT what succulents like; they need a once-a-month drenching/draining.  So I immediately drenched/drained it.  The next day, the tube-like thing (I keep meaning to look up its name) was fleshy, turgid, even.  Its looks improved considerably.

I don't know what to do about the palm trees.  

While I was writing this post, I noticed that the wrens were squawking like crazy, something I've come to recognize as their burglar alarm.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, Cousin Roger's striped gray cat was trotting across the back yard, and the birds were following it in the trees, still squawking.  They stopped when the cat went home.  The next time they do this, I'm going to listen to see if there's an "all clear" signal.  ;)

Friday! - November 15, 2024

I actually kind of hated to leave work today.

I KNOW!

But it's true.  Kind of.

It took from 7 a.m. until 1:30 p.m. to put the 2016 files in order and get them in the cabinets.  The 2017 files are piled high on a table, in no certain order.  I'd set my phone to alarm at 2 to remind me to run by the courthouse on the way home.  I grabbed up an armload of 2017 files and started sorting them into months on another table.  In the 30 minutes left to work, I barely made a dent in the piles.  I considered working a while longer - the 2 o'clock deadline was my own - but I'd still be there if I'd stayed until the month sort was finished.  The 2017 files will probably take two days to finish.  

I hope to be through with this part of the job by the end of next week.  There are loose ends left to tie up, though.  There was a lot of loose paper crammed in between the files.  I have been tossing it all into a box - several boxes, actually; ain't no way I'm filing it.  Not gonna do it.  But there are several boxes of Phase I records that mysteriously appeared long after people were supposed to have double-checked the hide-y holes for stray boxes.  I feel obligated to deal with those.  

But I am not going to do it in my current unheated workspace.  I wore two sets of clothes to work today - leggings and a t-shirt under jeans and a flannel shirt - and wore all of it - plus a jacket - all day.  My hands and feet are numb. I am too old to suffer this treatment.  When I get this file cabinet situation in hand, they can find me somewhere warm to work or kiss my butt goodbye.

I'll be having a margarita in about two hours.  Cheers!

Morning edition - November 14, 2024

How I have missed mornings on the back porch.  It is sunny, and the birds are singing.  There are calls and whistles I don't recognize.  Migrants must have spent the night in our trees.  We've had new birds come through for several weeks now.  Over the past couple of weeks, I've heard unfamiliar evening and night chatter, just for a day, maybe two.  More than once, I've run in the house to tell The Husband, "Come listen to this bird!"  Without fail, whatever it was went silent by the time he made it to the back porch.  This past weekend, there was one who did a long whistle that fell in pitch at the end.  Sounded almost human.  I whistled back, but he/she ignored me.

My newest Civil War diary arrived yesterday.  I read a bit of it last night.  The writer, an Alabama girl, is 17 and attending school in Washington, DC, with her younger sister, in 1859.  She talks about her lessons and her visits and her clothes, stuff any teenage girl would write about.   There is mention of sewing, but, so far, zero mention of chores, like laundry or cooking or cleaning.  She goes to churches of several denominations to hear the various sermons.  (The Catholic services were something of a mystery to her.)

At this same time, not far from where she grew up, my sharecropper ancestors were embroiled in a lawsuit involving some land, some household goods, and a slave.  One of them was running a school on his property.  I expect that it was very different from the school the girl was attending.  I'd love to know who his students were, but I have not found any historical references to this school other than in the lawsuit documents.

I should be working on the files I brought home.  

Rain, rain, go away ... November 13, 2024

 It was raining when I left for work this morning, and it's still raining this afternoon. I've about had enough of this.  I wore my ugly Crocs to work because they're my most comfortable shoes for standing on my feet all day, and I wore socks with them because it's cold and my workroom is unheated. (So attractive and fashionable.)  Naturally, in all the rain, my feet got wet and those hole-y socks did little to keep the water out, so I sloshed around in wet socks all day, part of the reason for my exceedingly foul mood.

My job sucks.

The 2015 files - or, rather, most of them - went into the cabinets today, and the 2016 files, which were in alphabetical order, are ready to be put in numerical order.  In sorting them by months, I discovered a whole pile of files that had no numbers on them.  Makes me want to choke somebody.  I brought them home and intend to work on them tomorrow, where it'll be warm and dry.  

I need to retire.

I was not worth a plugged nickel yesterday.   In fact, I'm still wearing the pajamas that I went to bed in Saturday night.  I did manage to make a pot of chicken & dumplings for supper last night (had some for breakfast this morning).

Mostly, I read.  I typically do most of my reading on a Kindle in bed at night, but this Civil War diary is a paper book.  Before I got a Kindle, I had a couple of clamp-on book lights and could read a "real" book in bed at night, but the book lights have disappeared or quit working, so I am reading this diary in the recliner.

This is not the first Civil War diary I've read.  Thirty-something years ago, I forgot to send back the Book-of-the-Month Club card and subsequently received in the mail a copy of Mary Chestnut's Civil War Diary.  At the time, I was working for a law firm in Memphis and had two small children, so it took weeks to finish the book.  During that time, I went on a job interview with a law firm closer to home.  The lawyer who interviewed me was at that time working on a book about Civil War gun boats.  One of the first questions he asked me was, "Do you like to read?"  When I told him what I was then reading, he hired me on the spot.  However, when I turned in my notice to the old firm, they sweetened the deal, and I ended up not taking the job that was closer to home, something I've regretted over the years.  After all this time, I scarcely remember anything about Mary Chestnut.   

The woman in this current book is her early 20s and has about 4 different men wanting to marry her.  (Three of them are Confederate soldiers; I haven't yet discovered how many of them made it back alive.)  She spends her time sewing and cooking and such, but the family owns slaves (for now), so she is not working in the fields or doing other physically laborious jobs.  Her life is nothing like the life my poor sharecropper ancestors lived.  

The other two diaries I recently bought are written by women who, according to the introductions, were socially prominent.  Their lives won't mirror my ancestors' lives, either.  I've found another book (it's on its way!) written by a high-society woman who at least lived in the same vicinity as my ancestors.  Since I'm looking for speech patterns, maybe this one will be more helpful in finding "voice."  

  

'Nastics - November 10, 2024

Yesterday didn't turn out exactly as I expected.

The plan was to attend Granddaughter #3's gymnastics team's mid-day exhibition and then go to my brother's house to visit with him and his daughter and her family, who are visiting from out of state.  By the time the gymnastics performances started, the visit with my niece's family had been cancelled, so instead of heading to my brother's house, we took Granddaughter #3 and her family to a late lunch.  

The gymnastics exhibition was sweet.  About 20 little girls did the same routines, one after the other.  They flipped and tumbled and pranced.  So cute, especially the smallest gymnast in the group, who gave it all she had, seemingly without fear or nervousness.

Granddaughter #4 ("The Little Rotten Baby" from past posts) is also in gymnastics, but her age group did not perform.  It would probably have been like herding cats.  She did, however, pull off a couple of wobbly cartwheels on the sidelines between events.  At almost 4, she is still rotten.  Living in a house full of teen or pre-teen sisters, she picks up things.  After the exhibition, as we were standing around with her family, discussing what we wanted to eat, she asked me, "Do you have any cash?"

The Husband and I made it home about 4 o'clock.  I spent most of the afternoon reading Serepta Jordan's diary entries.  In one of them, she used her aunt's term, "pain under the apron," in reference to menstrual cramps.  Such phrases are just the type of gems I'm looking for.  

Long Weekend - November 8, 2024

Thank goodness for Friday, and for the long weekend ahead.  

It's been a tough week, physically tough.  I would like nothing better than to spend the next three days in pajamas, but that'll never happen.  A good chunk of tomorrow is already filled, first with a mid-day trip to the Big City to watch ten-year-old Granddaughter #3 do gymnastics, and then to my brother's house to visit with his family.  There's nothing in the refrigerator except pickles and jelly and some whisker-y carrots that need to go to the compost pile, so I ought to go to the grocery store at some point, but I probably won't.  There are too many other things I want to do, such as painting or reading.  

Over the past couple of weeks, three new books have come in the mail.  All three are diaries of women who lived in middle Tennessee during the Civil War.  I've been getting up early to read, mostly as research for my family history.  These three women are not related to me, as far as I know.  Most of my relatives in that era would not have been able to keep diaries, for most of them could not read or write and could not have afforded pencil and paper. I am just reading to see what life was like in those days, and how women framed their sentences.  

As for painting, I'd like to work on the tire cover that I bought for the Wrangler.  I'm doing it with oil paints, which takes FOREVER to dry, especially when the air is damp as it is now.  I started this thing a month ago and have been moving it back and forth between my craft table and various chair backs, trying to keep it out of the traffic so that no rug-rat - or grown-ass old woman - brushes against it while it dries.  There's not much left to do, really; I ought to just finish it.  It'll be such a nice surprise for that egghead who tailgates me all the way to work.  

I'd also like to work on some Christmas cards.  Watercolor.  I ordered some new brushes yesterday.  They won't arrive for weeks, but the old ones will hold up long enough to do the cards.  

The Husband's cousin David (Cousin Roger's brother) gave me a very cool gift this week, a sewing basket that belonged to his mother or grandmother.  It is a cane basket, darkened with age, shaped like a shallow bowl, with a flat detached lid.  It contained supplies for hand sewing.   The bottom was full of old buttons.  It looks really cool on the sewing room shelf.

Nanny just called to report that there's a strange truck "with some kind of government tags" parked at the end of her driveway.  She said the windows were too dark to see inside, and that she'd pecked on the window, but nobody answered.  She'd written down the license number.  There was talk of loading the shotgun.  I went outside to eyeball the truck while on the phone with her but didn't recognize the truck and didn't see anyone inside it (the windows certainly were dark!) or anywhere around. I told her I'd keep an eye out.  When we hung up, I took a picture of the truck and walked around the back to take a picture of the license plate.  It was a temporary tag in a car dealer frame, not a "government " tag.  I sent the pictures to Son #1, suspecting it is his stepson's truck.  Sure enough, it is.  The driver is most likely stalking deer in the woods behind the house.  I called Nanny back and told her to unload the gun.   

It's almost margarita time.  

Progress - November 7, 2024

It's a little nippy on the back porch this afternoon.  Cloudy and damp. 

The birds are talking amongst themselves, as are the frogs in the pond and in the trees.  I don't hear any squirrels barking.  They're probably busy burying acorns while there's still daylight.

One looks for peace where one finds it, eh?

I made good progress at work today.  Finished 2012 and started on 2013.  Some guys came and hauled away two huge stacks of crushed banker box lids, so the workroom is a little neater.  

And tomorrow is Friday.  Yay!

And Monday is a government holiday.  Yay!

Election Day - November 5, 2024

Not gonna lie, I'm nervous about this election and its aftermath.  There is more than enough crazy on the loose these days.  The scary thing is that it only takes a few to screw things up for everyone.

This will drag on for days, weeks, months.

I'm weary of it.

I'm also weary of this work project.  

The 2010s are done, and the 2011s are stacked on the tables, waiting to be sorted.  I fear I have not left room enough to work in the "mystery" files.  

Tomorrow, I'm going to skip one or two file cabinets and hope for the best.

Monday Funday (not!) - November 4, 2024

I so wanted to shoot hooky today.

But I also want to get this freakin' project done, so I dragged my butt to work.

The 2009 files were on the table, waiting to be sorted.  By 10:30, I was ready to move them into a cabinet drawer.  On my way to the cabinet, I glanced at the 2010s, thinking I might be able to finish them today.  To my horror, the cabinet drawer I opened (third from the top) was full of 2005 files. 

I said every cuss word I know, and some I didn't.

The bottom drawer was empty.  

How in the hell did I just flat skip a drawer? 

You realize what had to happen, don't you?  

I had not packed the file drawers tightly to account for the "mystery" files that must eventually be worked into the system.  But the 2005 files only took up two drawers, and there was no way they'd absorb a whole 'nother drawer full.  I had to empty a drawer, which meant emptying ALL the drawers in ALL of the cabinets, one drawer at a time.

Cuss words flew all afternoon.  

Heaven only knows if those files made it back in the drawers in the right order.

The one bright spot in the day was that someone came looking for a file and actually found it. :)

I said, "You put that right back where you found it when you're done."

As soon as I got the 2010 files stacked on the tables (yes, I double-checked ALL the drawers), I high tailed it out of there.  

I was on feet for 7 straight hours.   Everything in/on me hurts.  

Fall Back Day - November 3, 2024

The Grandson called Friday afternoon, wanting to hang out with us this weekend.  When The Husband got home from work, we picked the young'un (now 17) up, took him to dinner, and brought him home with us.  

Saturday the menfolk worked on the Cherokee.  Between finding the part (a thermostat), installing it, and putting everything back together (which required another trip to the parts store), it took nearly all day.  We were intending to leave the house about 5 p.m. to watch Granddaughter #2's band march in a competition, but were a little late by the time the menfolk got the grease off of themselves.

#2's band came in third.  :(

It was late when we got home, and we all went straight to bed.

The menfolk test-drove the car today.  It didn't over-heat.  Problem solved, hopefully.

When they got home, they discovered that the leaf mulcher had been delivered to the front porch.  As we were assembling it, The Husband got a phone call from Son #1's wife.  Axel (the aged, sh*thead Rottweiler) has been feeling poorly.  Earlier this week, the vet didn't hold out much hope for his survival, but Son #1 could not bear to have Axel euthanized.  The vet gave Axel a couple of shots, and they brought him home.  Today, he is worse.  The Husband, The Grandson, and the Daughter-in-Law have taken Axel to the vet.  

Axel won't be coming home.  :(