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.

High Winds and Cough Syrup

Glistening inkcap (Coprinellus micaceus) at the cemetery

The weather freshened up yesterday, with clear skies, cool temperatures and lots of wind. I got out in the garden early in the morning with my metal detector, trying to find a piece of the bird feeders that got knocked off by the tree crew. I was afraid it had been swept up and carried off with all of the tree debris, but eventually I found it and reattached it to the feeder. What a bizarre task!

I also got a mysteriously strong reading in one of the flower beds and decided to dig there. A coin? Jewelry? No -- it was one of our missing copper slug rings. Somehow it had become buried and forgotten. It's now back in the shed with its slug-deterring companions.

I haven't used that metal detector in years but I must admit it was kind of fun to scan the ground and see what's what. I also found a weird strip of aluminum, and I got countless readings for iron -- no doubt old nails and screws. Our garden is full of construction debris. (I didn't bother trying to dig any of them up.)

In the afternoon I took a walk with Bailey to the cemetery. I was trying to capture the autumnal foliage in the photo above but somehow it doesn't look very bright. It seemed more yellowy in real life.

On the far side of the cemetery, an automated voice rang out from the driveway of a house as we passed: "Hi. You are being recorded." I instinctively responded, "Oh, f*ck off!" I mean, I wasn't in their driveway or tampering with their cars -- I was on the public sidewalk! Sure enough there was a camera attached to the corner of the roof. I don't mind being recorded, but I've never seen CCTV that comes with a vocal warning, clearly meant to intimidate passers-by. It annoyed me.

I also saw a woman wearing a hoodie that said on the back, in big letters, "THAT'S A AWFUL LOT OF COUGH SYRUP." I wondered what on earth it could possibly mean. It sounded like some kind of drug reference -- like, can you make recreational drugs from cough syrup? Turns out it's a brand of clothing owned by an LA rapper.

Bailey, as usual, was on red-alert for squirrels and straining at her lead. She's off this morning to the vet -- we're going to try spaying once again. Fingers crossed this fifth attempt will do the trick.

Here's a video to give you a sense of how windy it was yesterday. From inside the house I watched our poor avocado cope with the gusts, which were said to be up to about 40 mph. For a plant that lived its early years entirely indoors, it did well!

Cleaning Up the Kingdom

These hazel leaves are jammed into a joint in the fence right outside our kitchen window -- a reminder of the tree work done on Friday. The tree trimmers hauled all the branches down the side return and some of the bits got caught in the fence.

I woke up this morning thinking it was 7 a.m. -- but no, it was 6 a.m., because today we're moving off British Summer Time and back to Greenwich Mean Time. These pesky clock changes! This one wasn't on my radar at all until another blogger mentioned that Europe was changing this weekend -- or at least some parts of Europe -- and that's when I realized we were too. And then I promptly forgot until just now.

Speaking of blogs, I backed mine up yesterday. Google has changed the way it's done. It used to be that we could download a backup directly from our blog dashboard, and it would come as an XML file. But now we have to request the data from Google -- they prepare it and put it in a ZIP file, or in my case two ZIP files because I post so much, and they e-mail you when it's ready for you to download. Kind of a pain and I have no idea how I'd reconstitute the blog from these files should it ever be deleted. But at least I have something.

It would probably be healthier to just say c'est la vie if the servers crash or the blog vanishes through some other technical mishap. All things are temporary, right? But I like feeling that extra bit of security.

The Thanksgiving cactuses -- which are actually more like Halloween cactuses, in our case -- are about to burst into bloom. As you can see, I'm getting flowers on all four of them -- my two pink ones, my white one from blog reader Frances and my salmon-colored one. I fit them all onto a single tabletop for this picture, but they're packed a little too tightly to be happy there in the long term.

I spent yesterday morning picking up debris in the garden. As you can imagine, there's a lot of it. I filled four yard waste bags, and the council will only pick up three at a time, so I can't do any more until after Tuesday when they're collected.

The process was complicated by Bailey, who likes pulling sticks out of the bag right after I've put them in. Thanks for the help, dog.

Here she is keeping an eye on her kingdom. (Or queendom?)

Speaking of kingdoms, Dave and I are about to start the last season of "Game of Thrones." I feel like we've been watching it forever. We mistakenly thought last night's episode was the last, and when we were about halfway through I said, "There's an awful lot of unresolved stuff going on here!" That's when we realized there's still one more season to go. We also just finished the latest of Ryan Murphy's "Monster" series on Netflix, about Lizzie Borden (and weirdly, also Aileen Wuornos). It was an imaginative re-telling of those crimes but I'm wondering how much is based on fact.

Tree Trauma

Well, yesterday was the most unpleasant day I've had in a while. The tree trimmers were here to do a pretty drastic cutback of our hazels and Philadelphus, and they did not disappoint. They arrived about 8:30 a.m. and they worked without stopping until about 3 p.m.

I pretty much left them to their own devices, except for stepping outside now and then to see how things were going. I figure, they're the professionals, and they don't need me hanging over them nagging about every little root and twig. But I kept up a constant watch from the house.

The whole experience made me feel invaded. Like, my private space that I tend so carefully, where I know the story behind every plant, seemed really violated. This was partly because they were fairly rough about removing branches and they did some damage to our other plantings. I know we lost at least one rose bush, broken off at the base, as well as at least one flowerpot, and there are countless little plants that were trampled and may or may not come up again in the spring. At least it's October and many of them were dying back anyway, but still, it was on the whole a very unnerving experience.

Granted, they had to remove a lot of stuff, and overall they did a good job and did what needed to be done. But geez, it was stressful.

Before:

After:

These are pano shots so the garden is a bit distorted. That clump of trees in the center are the hazels, which as you can see we reduced in both height and density. I'd say they took about half of the trunks out, which will give that side of the garden much more sun. We'd actually lost some plants in that bed because it had become so shady, so hopefully this will make a difference.

The biggest Philadelphus is just to the right of the hazels, and that has been cut down by about two-thirds, almost to the height of the fence. It's just a collection of sticks now. As a result we can see more of the houses and rooflines in that direction, and our next door neighbor will get a lot more light, too. It should leaf out from its lower height come spring, unless we've traumatized it so much that it just gives up the ghost, and that wouldn't be a terrible thing.

I have to go out there today and do some more cleanup and damage assessment. And I have to write the landlords and fill them in on the work -- since they're splitting this expense with us.

I'm happy to see that this morning, there's been no reduction in birds coming to our bird feeders or other wildlife activity. I was worried about how removing so much dense foliage might affect the birds.

On a brighter note, we got out the "staffy pajamas" we bought for Olga a couple of years ago. Bailey seems to like them a lot more than Olga did!

Storms and Trees

These trees at the top of our street always turn a nice color in autumn. It's still a little early for the one on the left, but the one on the right is showing off a bit more.

Speaking of trees, we have arborists coming today to prune several large stands of vegetation in our garden -- our hazels, which are gigantic and have taken over; our two Philadelphus or mock orange bushes, also huge; and the dead ivy in one of the elder trees in very back. I've taken "before" pictures, so tomorrow I'll try to give you a "before" and "after" comparison.

It's going to be a drag for the tree crew, because the weather is supposed to be terrible today -- rain and winds gusting up to 25 mph. I called the office yesterday, though, and they said they'd be here. We'll see.

This is part of Storm Austen, which is hitting Southwest England hard. It's going to be followed immediately by another named storm, Boelo, which sounds like it will be going more to the north of us but is supposed to make everything miserable on Saturday. Fun times!

Yesterday I walked Bailey down Broadhurst Gardens and through the neighborhood known as South Hampstead. I came across this graffiti on the way. Sad graffiti man.

More Pumpkins and a Creepy Clown

Yesterday was just miserable. There's no way to sugar-coat it. The warmest it got was about 50º F (10.6º C), the coldest not too many degrees below that -- that chill was penetrating. And rain, rain, rain. According to our local weather website, we're still about 12 percent short of our normal annual rainfall and 28 percent lower than usual for this month -- the reservoirs remain low and we still have a hosepipe ban. So I should be happy about the rain, and I am, sort of, as long as I'm not out in it.

Unfortunately I had to be out in it in the morning to go to the dentist for a routine cleaning and exam. I have a tiny cavity forming between two of my teeth which the dentist said we should take care of -- but she was strangely noncommittal about when we should do it. "Some time within the next few months just give us a call," she said. I suppose I should do it more promptly than not but it's funny that they didn't ask me to schedule something right then. I'll get back to them eventually.

As you can see above, the Halloween decorations are coming out. Sweet Corner has plastered its windows with painted ghosts and pumpkins.

There's even a creepy clown (Pennywise?) having coffee with a mummy (possibly the Mummy?).

And another jack-o-lantern has appeared around the corner. That's pretty impressive carving, isn't it? Now that I think about it, I didn't see the blingy one when I took Bailey for her walk yesterday -- so maybe, as expected, it has already deteriorated beyond keeping.

Meanwhile, Fortune Green is looking very autumnal.

Otherwise, I mostly stayed in and read, except for a brief foray to pick up our cleaning. And I archived photos, which somehow I hadn't done properly for more than a month. I was way behind. It's a two-step process -- culling everything I don't want to keep, and then saving all the keepers on a portable hard drive. (This is in addition to uploading them to Flickr, but I'm usually running at least a couple of weeks behind on that task -- often, as now, more like a month.)

Did you hear about Trump's envoy to Russia calling Putin a "humanitarian"? The mind reels. As a columnist for The Guardian pointed out, an old saying fits the moment: "The first casualty of war is truth." Pennywise is St. Francis compared to Putin.

Dermatology and Diary

The dermatologist turned out to be something of a non-event. I ventured deep into the labyrinthine hallways of the Royal Free Hospital, in search of Clinic 8, where a young woman photographed the suspicious rough patch on my lip. She got close-ups and even mashed the camera against the skin -- which, when it's your lip, is rather awkward -- to get photos of the first layer of cells. And then I was sent on my way. A doctor will review the photos and decide on a diagnosis or send me back for further tests or a biopsy if warranted. Apparently this is standard operating procedure for dermatological issues under the NHS.

I was somewhat disappointed that I never saw a doctor and didn't have the chance to ask about other rough spots or treatments for my keratoses. Apparently I need to make a separate appointment for every spot. And forget screening -- in the states it can take forever to get in to see a dermatologist, but as I recall once you do, they'll look you over from head to toe and make sure nothing funny is going on. There's none of that here.

Anway, that was that, and then I was out on the street with the rest of the day to kill. I went to a nearby Starbucks, where I sat out on the pavement beneath an awning and read. It was a gloomy morning, drizzly and damp, and people passed to and fro in front of my table, with South End Green across the street.

This area appears to be a sort of hub for bus service, as several buses pulled up while I was there, including one bound for Canada Water, in the southeastern part of the city. I can't quite imagine how that bus goes all the way down there but I'm tempted to take it one of these days to find out.

Anyway, from there I walked home and spent the afternoon reading on the couch with Bailey.

She got wildly excited about a squirrel in the avocado tree outside. I let her out the back door so she could bark at it from the patio.

I'm about halfway through Thomas Mallon's diaries. Reading this book is a peculiar experience because so far I've personally known two people he's mentioned! One was just an acquaintance I met through a professional group, but the other is a friend from New York who I actually went out with several times soon after I moved to the city. We're still friends on Facebook. I'll have to ask him how he feels about turning up in a published diary. Mallon calls him "old-fashioned" and said he's the kind of guy who, at a diner, would order pie and coffee. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. I would order pie and coffee myself.

Other interesting observations from Mallon:

On the Iran Contra hearings (July 7, 1987): "Interesting as today was, these hearings -- the whole scandal -- is missing something. What's really needed is someone like Martha Mitchell. A lot of laws may have been broken here, but there's too much dignity to the scandal: idealogical zealotry can't compete with venality, power madness, hysteria & sheer stupidity -- all of which made Watergate so exciting."

On meeting author David Leavitt at a party (April 24, 1987): "There are no bones in Leavitt's hand. It's like shaking a chicken patty."

On Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko (May 11, 1987): "A reading I did not go to. I decided to give the Rod McKuen of Occupied Kabul a miss. I saw him about 15 years ago at the Felt Forum, when I was a starry-eyed détentist." (I interviewed Yevtushenko for my college newspaper, apparently while he was on the same speaking tour -- my article came out just weeks before Mallon wrote this. I wish I'd thought to call him "the Rod McKuen of Occupied Kabul.")

On politicians and their retrograde responses to the AIDS crisis (June 2, 1987): "Cuomo wants to put in jail people who pass the virus on to others; Koch wants to test all tourists coming into the city."

And on being nervous about a romantic partner taking an HIV test (Sept. 27, 1987): "There's no way it could have passed between him and me, in either direction, unless everything they say is completely wrong." (This resonated with me because I often endured these exact same thoughts in the era of HIV and AIDS -- replaying every careful encounter in my mind, mindful of the fact that the doctors were still figuring out exactly what passed on the virus and what didn't. It was a terrifying time to be a gay man.)

Try, Try Again

Believe it or not, we still couldn't spay Bailey yesterday. Her "false pregnancy" has subsided considerably, but there's still some evidence of lactation. "It's almost gone," the vet said. She proposed that we wait one more week.

Apparently this really is a big deal, because dogs that are spayed in the midst of a false pregnancy can basically stay that way -- and that means not only that they're permanently awash in unnecessary hormones and wasting physical energy to make milk for puppies that don't exist, but that they're more cranky and aggressive. Lord knows we don't need a more aggressive Bailey. (In fact, some of her aggressiveness may be explained by this condition, I think -- perhaps this is why she's been calming down as the false pregnancy is subsiding.)

Anyway, if you're really interested, here's an article about it. I've Googled and read and it appears the vets are not making this up. (Not that I believed they were, but...well, being an ex-reporter, I like to verify.)

For those of you keeping count, this was actually the fourth time we tried to spay her. Next Monday, which God willing will be the final spaying appointment, will be the fifth.

After that little adventure we took a walk, since I gave her dog-walker Josh the day off. We walked up the Black Path beside the railroad tracks, where I found this curious sticker stuck to a lamppost. Another random face and apparently not a famous one, according to Google. I suspect people make little stickers like this of their friends' faces and slap them up around town for their birthday or some other celebration.

This is not a very encouraging sign, posted beneath a scaffold where building work is taking place! I've never seen a warning like this before. Seems to me if anything falls from that scaffold it's due to someone's negligence. It's probably a lawyer thing -- this way, if anything does fall and hit someone, the construction company can say in court, "Well, we warned them!"

Anyway, I spent the rest of the morning at home, mostly reading, and then in the afternoon took Bailey to the cemetery for her long walk of the day.

The butterfly area, which is full of tall wildflowers (mostly thistles) during the summer, has been shorn to the ground.

This morning I'm off to the dermatologist to have that spot on my lower lip evaluated. Hopefully I won't require a lip-ectomy.

If At First You Don't Succeed

Graffiti seen on a walk with Bailey

Well, we're trying again. At 9 a.m. I'm taking Bailey to the vet to be spayed. Let's hope they can do it this time. It's only been about two weeks since we made our last attempt, but she's more than four months past her last "season" at this point, and she's going to go into season again soon. So I kind of feel like it's now or never. We'll see what the vet says.

As much as I've been dreading this procedure, I looked back to see what it was like for Olga and it seemed to pass pretty effortlessly. I mentioned it on the blog the day it happened, but then said nothing in subsequent posts. I don't remember her suffering -- and in fact as I recall we took the "cone of shame" off pretty promptly because she just didn't need it.

Another unremarkable day yesterday. I spent the morning reading and editing video on my computer, and I took Bailey on two short walks. On the second walk, in the evening, I found a sad-looking Monstera sitting on the street, so of course I adopted it and brought it home. I need another Monstera like I need a hole in the head. But I couldn't just let a tropical plant sit outside in the chilly fall air, could I?

Here's Baileybird, as we often call her, sitting in our autumnal garden. After I took this picture I cut back several of those dahlias behind her and stuck them in the shed -- so they're pretty much put to bed for the winter. The ones with any green leaves at all I'm leaving a while longer, so they can keep photosynthesizing and feeding the tubers for next year. But they all look pretty terrible.

The zinnias, on the other hand, still look good. And they have buds for new flowers! It looks like they're going to keep cranking along until we get some frost.

An Autumnal Heath Day

A beautiful day yesterday -- cool and clear, with a bright blue sky. (All the better to set off the autumn leaves!) I seized the opportunity to take the dog to Hampstead Heath, where we had a long walk.

She was very well behaved -- working out all her stresses on chasing squirrels (within the limits of her 10-meter long lead). She even played with another dog, running in circles around me as the other dog (a black lab) ran next to her. It was very cute to watch and gave me hope that Bailey can learn to have positive interactions with other canines! Josh, her dog-walker, has reported back that she plays with some of the dogs she meets at the cemetery, too.

Bailey also took a swim in the pond on Sandy Heath -- more of a wade than a full-body immersion, because it's pretty chilly out there now.

Meanwhile, I enjoyed the change of seasons -- the yellowing trees, the chestnuts on the ground.

It was a successful day and the dog was exhausted by the end -- always the goal.

Dave and I sorted out our Christmas plans. He wants to see his parents in Florida, but because I've just been and we have Bailey, I'm going to stay here in the UK. I reserved that holiday cottage we've rented in past years in Pevensey Bay, so I'll be going to the beach with the dog. It will be a little strange being there by myself, but I don't want to just sit around West Hampstead.

We're still not sure what to do with Thanksgiving, but we're considering some options. We'll most likely stay in London and have a meal out somewhere. (Because it's just another Thursday in the UK, there is no Thanksgiving rush on restaurants!)