Dragon and Crown

The Thanksgiving cacti are still blooming up a storm. The salmon one has opened (above)...

...as have the white/pink ones. And as you can see, the dark pink plants are blooming profusely. So I'm happy to get flowers out of all four of my cacti this year.

Some of you may wonder why I'm not calling them Christmas cacti, which is probably the name we all learned when we were younger. Apparently true Christmas cacti have a slightly different leaf shape and bloom later. Here's a short video about how to tell them apart. Most "Christmas" cacti sold in stores are actually Thanksgiving cacti, according to the experts.

Mine seem to bloom even earlier than is typical. As someone pointed out last year, they're more like Halloween cacti. Maybe that's because I live so far north, with rapidly decreasing sunlight in the autumn. Just a guess.

Not much happened around here yesterday. I took Bailey out for a walk in the afternoon, to the cemetery. Let me just say, I am thrilled that her dog walker is starting again today. She is wearing me out, she's such a wild thing! She slipped her harness at one point, lunging after a squirrel, so I am assessing new harnesses on Amazon. Hers came from the shelter and it has a tendency to loosen, so I need one that's more secure.

After I refitted her harness and tightened it up, we walked back along Mill Lane. Bailey stopped at the door to the vet's office, as if she wanted to visit again. You'd think she'd be terrified of the vet at this point, but no! An older man walking past me said, "That's a smart dog!"

Then he said, "Hey -- how many rings does a marriage have?"

Oh, great, I thought. Dad jokes.

"I don't know," I said.

"Three," he responded. "The engagement ring, the wedding ring, and the suffering!"

When I told Dave this story later, he said, "That guy has been waiting days to be able to spring that joke on someone."

Once again, I came across a box of stuff set out for the taking on someone's garden wall. I took these two little dishes, featuring a dragon and a crown.

As you can see from the back, they're Limoges porcelain -- specifically a pattern designed by Régis Dho for Philippe Deshoulieres. I think Chambord is the pattern name, but I'm not sure. They look to me like something someone swiped from a hotel or restaurant in France or Monaco. There's a listing for some identical dishes on Etsy -- she wants £60 for them, but I've seen similar ones listed for less elsewhere. I just thought they were kind of cool.

Today is my birthday. I am the big six-zero today. I can't believe I'm 60 years old, but you know, in a way it's such a relief. I've written before, and fairly recently, about the AIDS anxiety I felt as a young gay man -- I was always afraid I might not make it to 40, much less 60. So I'm pretty happy to be here, wrinkles, age spots and all!

Quo Vadis, Bailey?

Remember the chrysanthemums I bought last fall? Rather than throwing them out when they finished blooming -- which I've always done in the past -- I saved them over the winter. They died back dramatically but then sprouted and leafed out again in spring, and now they're blooming once again. I've learned something about the durability of chrysanthemums. They're not just annuals anymore.

I'm going to move them to the front porch, so people passing on the street can enjoy them. I wanted to wait until after Halloween so they didn't become a target of any pranks, though I'm not sure trick-or-treaters really play "tricks" anymore if you're not around to give them candy. As Dave said yesterday when I mentioned this concern, "It's not 1954!"

We did get some trick-or-treaters late yesterday afternoon, just as it was getting dark. Fortunately I'd prepared at the last minute by buying a bag of Celebrations and a bag of Maltesers at our local off-licence (in America we'd say convenience store). Dave and I had plans to go out for dinner last night, so we missed the bulk of the candy-seekers. Now we have a bowl of chocolates to eat. The Maltesers turned out to be a Christmas mix featuring reindeer -- probably from last year -- so it's just as well I didn't hand them out!

Bailey's cumulative energy has been building over the past week as she's been home healing -- she was like a pressure cooker about to explode. Finally, yesterday, she was literally doing zoomies around the garden, so I took her out for a long walk. We went to Gladstone Park, where I put her on her long lead and she ran and challenged squirrels.

We walked about five miles, which worked out a lot of that excess energy. Gladstone Park is a really good place to take her because it's open and grassy, and her long lead doesn't get run such a risk of getting caught in underbrush. (Unlike on Hampstead Heath.)

She was worn out enough that Dave and I could go to dinner with the secure knowledge that she'd be snoozing in the flat. We went to Quo Vadis, a Soho landmark with famous neon signs that's celebrating its 100th year in business. Dave heard they're known for their martinis. I tried one called a Gibson that was said to be "extra dry" with a pickled onion, and it contained too much pickle and not enough "dry" for my taste. But maybe that's just me. (I always find, when I try a fancy martini, that I much prefer the classic gin-with-a-splash-of-vermouth recipe.)

The food was excellent, though. I had a smoked eel and cheddar soup, followed by pork cheeks and a trifle for dessert. My trifle even came with a birthday candle, though my actual birthday isn't until tomorrow. Dave didn't finish his pork cheeks so we brought one home for Bailey. (Don't tell the chef.)

Here's a video showing Bailey at the park -- I was trying to capture her waddling gait and her restless demeanor. (We used to joke that Olga had ADHD, but she was placid compared to Bailey!) And then there's video of Bailey enjoying her pork cheek last night. She's not spoiled at all.

Pomegranates and TV Legends

You can't quite tell, but this sushi restaurant on our high street has its windows painted for Halloween. I like this picture because of all the activity, but it's not great for seeing the windows, so here's a closeup:

I always appreciate a fox in my Halloween decorations!

By the way, several commenters have asked what I mean when I say "high street." In England, the "high street" in any given community is simply the main commercial corridor -- kind of like "Main Street" in America. In our case, our "high street" is called West End Lane. It's not physically more elevated than surrounding streets or anything like that -- it's just where all the shops are.

I got out with the camera late yesterday morning and took a walk through Kilburn, along their "high street," which is part of the major north-south corridor (and old Roman road) known as Edgware Road. Consequently it is much longer, larger and busier than ours.

I passed this peculiar little place entirely devoted to pomegranate juice. The inside was positively packed with pomegranates. I wouldn't think that would be enough to sustain a business, but Kilburn (and Cricklewood, just to the north) have a lot of residents of Middle Eastern origin, so maybe they help keep it prosperous.

Bailey continues to bounce right back after her surgery. She's a ball of energy, pretty much back to normal, and Josh, her dog-walker, will start taking her out again on Monday.

Like everyone else, I was sorry to hear about Patrick Stewart's death. I'm even more surprised that he has gone before original Star Trek captain William Shatner, who's still with us at age 95 -- almost ten years older than Stewart. Maybe all that hand-to-hand combat with the Gorn helped keep Shatner in good physical shape?

He and George Takei, who played Sulu, are the last remaining members of the bridge crew from the original "Star Trek" series.

(Two other '60s TV icons still with us at age 95: Barbara Eden of "I Dream of Jeannie," and Barbara Bain of "Mission: Impossible.")

Yesterday morning as I was walking Bailey, a guy stopped me and pointed to her and said, "Full staff or half-staff?"

It's a good thing he was pointing at the dog, or I might have thought he was talking flagpoles. "Full staff," I said, though honestly I'm not sure Bailey is 100 percent Staffordshire terrier. I'm almost certain, because I see no signs of any other breed, but I suppose we ought to get her DNA done if we really want to be able to answer that question.

"She's beautiful," he said, and walked on. I suppose that's really all that matters.

More Colorful Leaves

Lots of walking yesterday, which felt good. I've been stuck at home with Bailey as she recovers from her surgery, hesitant to leave her alone lest she get crazy, jump around and bust her stitches. But yesterday, after her morning outing, I decided to risk it and take a long walk by myself, working my way through some podcast episodes.

As you can see, it wasn't especially sunny, but the autumn leaves were still colorful. I walked north from our flat almost to Brent Cross and then back down through Cricklewood. I polished off two episodes of "Raising Hell," the podcast I've been listening to about a child sex ring that may or may not have operated in Omaha back in the '80s. Some people say it's a hoax, as both state and federal investigators concluded, but others suggest it really happened. So far I'm leaning toward hoax, with possible grains of truth embedded. From a reporting perspective it's an interesting tale, with lessons on sorting reality from fiction.

Remember the Cricklewood elephant? Well, it MOVES! I'd never seen it in animatronic mode, but it's pretty realistic! According to the sign hanging around its neck, its name is Duke. I still don't know where it came from or why it's there.

On the way home I stopped in to a charity shop where I'd seen some nice wine glasses in the window. There were only three of them, but I thought they exactly matched the ones we already have, so I bought them. When I brought them home I found that in fact they don't match at all. Oh well. My goal was four matching glasses, which we do not have. I guess I could always buy new ones, but it's not that important.

Then, of course, I had to walk the dog -- so after lunch I set out with her. She has pretty much returned entirely to normal. She's up for longer walks and she gives hell to the squirrels.

The rowan trees are burdened with berries that practically glow among the bright yellow foliage.

Finally, last night, Dave and I went upstairs for dinner with our neighbor, Ian. His wife and daughter are out of town so I think he was eager for some company. He roasted a chicken and we talked about how they found the apartment, how they're settling in and other things. I was just amazed I convinced Dave to socialize on a weeknight -- the fact that we didn't have to leave our building was a major incentive!

Bandage

I came across these trees on Sumatra Road yesterday morning while walking Bailey. Autumn leaves against a blue sky -- one of the best color combinations in nature.

My major endeavor yesterday was getting the dog's bandage removed. As I wrote in yesterday's post, it was a sticking plaster that was so heavily stuck Dave and I couldn't peel it off. Bailey never shows any sign of being in pain, but when we began tugging on that bandage she squirmed around like a fish out of water. So I called the vet and they said to bring her in at 3 p.m.

Of course that left the whole day to kill first, so I focused on plowing my way through more of Thomas Mallon's New York diaries. I've been reading -- and enjoying -- this book almost daily, but you'd never know it, considering how long it's taking me to finish. I'm finally almost done. I'm on page 532 with 40 more to go, and by this time Mallon has published several books and is an editor at GQ magazine. It's still making me laugh in places:

(Sept. 14, 1992): "Joan rivers has a face that's been redesigned for television but not life: it is beyond surgery, beyond reconstruction. One can only call it a head transplant."

(May 20, 1993): "If I ever write my Condé Nast novel, I've got my fact-checking story. [P.K.], a very handsome young man whose vacant, lovely face makes Dan Quayle's look craggy with complexities, was doing research on a profile of William Weld. It contained a sentence about how Weld must decide whether he wants to "go for the brass ring" and run for president in '96. Well, [P.K.] called the White House to ask if it was true that new presidents received brass rings. I am not making this up. Marty had to call him into the office (in) the morning, to ask the poor gorgeous lummox what planet he was from."

Finally, in the afternoon, Bailey and I meandered over to the vet's office. The vet tech came out with a can of adhesive bandage remover, and right on the sidewalk she sprayed the bandage and peeled it off with nary a squirm from the dog. That's what needed to happen. Why they ask people to remove the bandage themselves rather than bringing the dog back to have it done properly is a mystery to me.

Incidentally, Bailey shows no sign of wanting to lick her incision, or even any awareness of it. This is a good thing because it means no "cone of shame" is needed. Her head remains entirely unencumbered.

On the way home, we walked the Black Path, where we found some interesting graffiti...

...and where Bailey nibbled grass. You might think she's doing this because she doesn't feel well, but actually she nibbles grass all the time. Olga used to do it too. I call it their "salad." I suppose dogs need a bit of roughage and leafy greens just like people do.

Dave and I finally finished "Game of Thrones" last night; the ending did not disappoint. I'm wondering what the books are like, but one thing I know from working in the library is that they're huge and there are at least five of them -- and I don't think I want to take on that much of a commitment.

Zoned Out

More Halloween window decorations on our high street. I had intended to hand out candy on Halloween, just as we did last year, but Dave has scheduled a restaurant dinner for that evening so it looks like we won't be home. I bought a little bag of Haribo candy for the girl upstairs, just so we can give her something. The other neighborhood kids will have to take their chances elsewhere. Sorry, gang!

This was my job yesterday morning -- clearing more debris and trimmings from our garden. The tree trimmers took away the big branches, but we were left with a lot of stray twigs and sticks on the ground, as well as some climbing roses hanging in trees that had their stems cut and will eventually die. I'm trying to get rid of it all. I now have my requisite three yard waste bags for the week -- the maximum the council will collect -- so cleanup is paused until this stuff gets taken away.

The scaffold near the high street with the "falling debris" signs is coming down. Guess we don't need to worry about that anymore. Wonder if anything fell on anyone?

Here's the recovering Bailey girl, not long after I gave her her first Rycarfa NSAID pill just after lunch. She was definitely relaxed.

Here she is later in the afternoon, more awake and alert. We went on two short walks and she was actually feeling so well by the evening that she started to get a little rambunctious. We have to keep her quiet, so Dave gave her a trazodone sedative after dark and that zoned her out for the rest of the night. She was so quiet that we joked we should just keep her on it forever. (It's used to treat depression and anxiety, so that might not be out of the question, but we seriously are only joking.)

Today I'm going to take her back to the vet. We were supposed to remove her bandage yesterday afternoon, but it's adhesive and she won't let us touch it. We tried twice and despite her medicine she reacted quite strongly. I'm a little annoyed that they'd use something so sticky and then expect us to deal with it, so I'm going to let the vets do it.

Spayed

Here's a closeup of one of my Thanksgiving cactus flowers. They're now opening up, unfolding like elaborate birds taking flight -- or, as I always think of them, dragons.

Believe it or not, Bailey was finally successfully spayed yesterday. There will be no more puppies from our girl, and I think she's relieved. She's still a bit stoned from the surgery, so maybe it's just that -- but every time she looks up at me with those big brown eyes she seems to be saying, "Thank goodness that's over."

Maybe I'm projecting.

I took her in at 9 a.m. and the veterinary nurse looked her over and deemed her sufficiently past her "false pregnancy." So I left her there, and you'd think she would have at least cast a longing look in my direction as they took her downstairs -- but no. She left with tail wagging. As I told the receptionist, "She doesn't miss me at all!"

I spent a blissfully quiet day at home, catching up on e-mails and reading on the couch. No dog nagging me to play with her, or wanting to be let out, or wanting to go for a walk. It was nice to be able to concentrate for an extended period of time!

I also fixed the steps that Olga once used to climb up and down off the bed. The bottom step had been broken once again, so I went to the hardware store, bought some wood glue and did another jankety repair job. It won't last forever but it will hopefully get us through this healing period, when Bailey shouldn't be jumping on or off the bed. (Getting her to use the steps will be another challenge.)

This was Bailey on the way to the vet -- her last picture with her uterus intact. She was very confused by this dog statue, which I've blogged a couple of times before. She barked at it!

Dave and I went back to collect her at 5 p.m. She was stoned but able to walk home -- more slowly than usual, but otherwise with no trouble. She lay on the couch, staring into space, as Dave and I ate leftovers for dinner and watched "Game of Thrones." (Only two episodes left!)

This morning she seems slightly more alert -- she went out in the garden and barked when she heard noises from the neighbors. Signs of her old personality resurfacing! We have antibiotics, painkillers and -- at Dave's suggestion -- tranquilizers that we can give her to get her through this healing period, and to my relief, she's not in a collar or cone -- we just have to make sure she doesn't mess with her incision. Looks like I'm a nurse for the week.