family – Page 6 – beckycochrane.com

Saturday Storm

Back in the pre-pandemic days, when I still had a job and also went to lots of appointments or took Debby to hers, I spent a lot of time in my car or waiting rooms coloring. These small coloring books (about 5×7 inches) were often in the magazine stands in checkout lines at the grocery store, so I’d grab one to keep in the car. I haven’t used them in quite a while. The cover of the one with the ice cream cone had a glass of water spilled on it, which is why it’s missing.

Yesterday, I was thinking before I wrote, and I began glancing through these. A few of the coloring pages made me feel nostalgic for things from my childhood, like Uncle Gerald’s weeping willow tree and ice cream cones (I rarely eat ice cream these days). So I chose these two to color. (I took the ice cream cone from inside the coloring book; the cover’s still on it.)

Back in my younger days, when at Baskin Robbins, I’d get a scoop of Jamoca Almond Fudge and a scoop of Mint Chocolate Chip on a double cone. On my coloring page cone, top to bottom, I imagined the flavors as: blueberry, cherry, orange sherbet, chocolate, orange popsicle with red sprinkles, bubblegum, strawberry, lime, banana popsicle, grape popsicle, mint chocolate chip, raspberry, and chocolate fudge ice cream–sort of like frozen Skittles in a cone. Today’s the first birthday of our grandniece. We were just texted a photo of her eating a giant ice cream cone that looked as wild as this one (and lots messier!).

We’ve had a storm today, with thunder and a couple of power flickers. Right now, the dogs have calmed down as the thunder has let up, and so far, the power’s still on. I’m not even sure this is related to Tropical Storm Beryl, as we should be getting the brunt of that in our area on Monday. This could be outer bands, I suppose? [ETA: Today’s was a different system. Beryl’s outer bands begin arriving tomorrow around noon.]

Coastal friends, stay safe, dry, and air conditioned. I’ll go back to writing as long as the electricity still holds.

Photo Friday, No. 915

Current Photo Friday theme: Wildflowers

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere you feel free

–Tom Petty

I don’t have many wildflowers in my yard right now, but pictured are some tiny ones to go with a flag to celebrate International Pride Day in the USA. The last time I did a LGBTQ+ themed post on Instagram, I lost followers. I don’t keep up with who follows me, but if that made anyone unfollow me, it doesn’t feel like a loss. I’ve never made a secret of my role as an ally.

For as long as it takes for this meme to be obsolete and beyond.

ETA: The amount of hate I’ve seen directed at anyone who dares to post something positive about Pride or LGBTQ+ awareness confirms that allies MUST NOT be silent.

Sunday Sundries

I introduced the sundries topic last week and asked for suggestions on content for it. Today’s theme, suggested by Mark L, required a bit of foraging and was fun. As a child, Mark began a bookmark collection; he still uses bookmarks from that collection as an adult. Having grown up in a house full of readers, bookmarks were definitely part of my environment, both for pleasure reads and textbooks.

Though I read a lot of ebooks now, and they open to the page I’m on each time I pull one up on my iPad or phone, I still have a need for bookmarks because I continue to read and reread physical books. Here are photos of some I found (they don’t include Tom’s, who always has a physical book with a bookmark in it on the bookcase closest to his reading chair).

First up, let’s hear it for the booksellers!

This shares a bit of the bookmark evolution at my favorite Houston bookstore, Murder By The Book. I have many because I shop there a lot, and have also attended many booksignings and even had a couple of my own signings there. There are six (oops, plus one) shown here, but there are more throughout the house. Brazos is another Houston bookstore that’s a favorite. A lot of my literary choices and books about music and music figures come from Brazos, and ~~next week~~ in two weeks, it may figure into a story about an author I plan to share. The Independent Bookstore Day bookmark may have also come from a local bookstore visit. On my links to the right, there’s one to the Independent Bookstore Finder throughout the U.S. Whenever possible, I order through my local booksellers, but I also order from independent booksellers who host booksignings and publicity for authors I admire and read.

That Crossroads bookmark evokes so many memories. There were two LGBTQ+ bookstores in Houston, since closed, Lobo and Crossroads (I believe both stores are mentioned in The Deal, and my late friend Steve R worked at Lobo for a while). TJB and Cochrane/Lambert had signings at both, and Crossroads was my favorite place to go people watch, work on writing, and buy books. I met many people who became friends through Crossroads (including John, who I followed from there to two different Borders locations to Murder By The Book), and when Tim first moved here, he worked there! I miss Crossroads so much.

Then–speaking of the tenacity of independent booksellers who doggedly keep going in a hard market–yet another, older Murder By The Book bookmark slipped in. The Bookshelf was a used bookstore in Huntsville, Alabama where I used to shop. It’s “temporarily closed” since sometime in 2023. I hope they make it. Then there’s Borders, a chain since closed, but it was a vital place that hosted booksignings for us. When people complain that chains drove indies out of the market, I think they provided far more good than people appreciated. I still enjoy going to Barnes & Noble, where I can get a lot more personalized information than online algorithms offer.

Finally, a few neat connections.

I’m not sure about the cherub bookmark, whether it was a gift to me or belonged to my mother. But I’m sure that’s a Greg Herren bookmark from his Bold Strokes book Lake Thirteen. Also, back in the days of Live Journal, at least as far back as 2005, I think, other writers/authors and I agreed we needed to use the reading-is-hot tag on our blogs and websites. I still use it. A lot of readers helped us by sending photos of themselves reading in beds, bathtubs, etc. It was a fun time. I don’t remember where the bookmark came from and imagine it was probably not connected to that effort, but it certainly illustrated the theme. The bookmark on the far right was from the late Linda Raven Moore, who maintained several sites, including Markeroni, to which contributors documented with words and photos their visits to historical and local locations that had markers explaining their significance. I very much miss Linda, as I’m sure many do. On LiveJournal, she was whytraven.

These are some that belonged to and were used by my mother.

They live in a metal box where I have many small mementos belonging to her. The one on the far right is imprinted with the word JOY. I have a vague memory about the one made with yarn, but I’m not sure of its accuracy.

I’ve shared these on here before. They’re bookmarks made for Tom and me by his mother with beautiful beads. I’ve used them several times in thick, heavy books.

Finally, here are some I designed (and had printed by a company I’m not sure still exists; it’s in the old ‘hood) to give away at readings and to people who sent us novels to be signed.

Notice there isn’t one for the fifth book, When You Don’t See Me. I can only speculate that for me, some of the serious themes and painful events in the characters’ lives didn’t lend the novel to a whimsical bookmark.

There are also serious themes in Three Fortunes In One Cookie; that didn’t stop me then.

Regarding the websites listed on these two bookmarks–Tim no longer has an active website (which I miss very much), and I finally shut down cochranelambert.com this year since it had been inactive for so long (and websites aren’t cheap).

ETA: Later, I went to open one of my display cabinets, and found these three bookmarks with beautiful original art that were gifts from Geri. I don’t use them because I want the art to remain intact, and that’s fine. Even utilitarian items can be appreciated for their aesthetic value.

Thanks, Mark, this was a good journey, and as always, I found other things along the way that merit a little more storytelling. In fact, there are enough of those to require a Part Two on the Bookmarks sundries topic. Hope to see everyone next week when I share them. AND PLEASE give me more topics (I do have several thanks to visitors to this site, two who left comments, and others from people who tell me via other channels). As always, thank you for visiting and engaging.

June Is Bustin’ Out All Over

The title of this post is taken from a Rodgers & Hammerstein song from the musical Carousel, a production of which I saw at a dinner theater with my mother, nephew Daniel, and Daniel’s mother Terri in 1986. At that time, I believed (right or wrong) the musical was a favorite of Lynne’s, and since I wasn’t familiar with it, I looked forward to seeing it. Had I known some of the plot, theme, and sorrow of it, I might have realized I was seeing it at the wrong time considering my reality during 1985/86, but…as Jim likes to say, “It is what it is.” It was a night out in company I enjoyed, and I remember that part of it with affection.

One of the advantages (for me) of getting older and a little wiser is that during particularly difficult times (however that difficulty manifests), history reminds me that everything is not all bad and forever and never has been all bad and forever. Though June this year has been challenging and expensive, it’s just… June. Just right now.

Yesterday, when the dogs and I had to be out of the house from early morning to well after dinnertime, we were in a quiet, cool place together. Meanwhile, Tom was overseeing and doing lots of things at Houndstooth Hall that will be beneficial in the long run, and I got to read two of three books by a favorite author, Martin Walker, that I’d downloaded via Kobo to my iPad quite a while back (meaning I still have another ebook to look forward to from him!):

I can never regret a day spent reading this ongoing series set in France, full of people, places, dogs, horses, and gastronomical feasts (without consequences like calories and hangovers!). I read all of the short stories yesterday, and finished the novel today. It was a joy once again to be in the company of Benoît Courrèges, aka Bruno, Chief of Police, in the fictional town of St. Denis.

I’m so grateful for writers.

Catching Up

I think I never posted any photos from Jim’s visit in March. I was pretty much a homebody; Tim and Jim did more going and doing this trip, and even that wasn’t a lot (though it did involve a jaunt to that shopping mecca, the Galleria). Mostly, there was: cooking, eating, talking, spoiling dogs, and playing cards.

We figured out a way to work around Jack. He stayed with Debby during the day, except to eat breakfast and dinner at home, and at night, he slept here. We handed over the master bedroom to Jim, because it has its own bathroom. That way, once Jim turned in for the night, he closed himself in, whereupon Jack came home. The first night, other than sniffing at the bedroom door, Jack seemed mostly unaware that we had a visitor, and they never saw each other face to face. It’s a shame that a dog who is so smart, loving, and good with us doesn’t like or trust but six people, and Tom is the only one of his six-pack who’s male.

The other dogs, however, were delighted to see Jim and give him lots of love.

Delta and Anime on the living room sofa with Jim. Jim is the one who gave Delta her name, and this time she gave him more affection and attention than on his 2017 visit.

Anime got her time in with him, too.

As did Eva.

Cards and apple pie.

Lynne and Minute were here this past weekend, which meant more cards, more food, a bit of errand running, and I read four new chapters from the Neverending Saga aloud to her.

Minute slept through the chapters; fortunately, Lynne did not. =)

In progressive rummy, low score wins, so it was a good night for me. That is NOT usual.

I have more dog stuff to share later. Another update: On Monday, the pile of tree limbs and other tree debris was finally picked up from our curb after the storm of May 16. After doing only a little driving around after that storm, I’m not surprised it took so long. There were a LOT of piles in front of a lot of homes.

Tiny Tuesday!

Because of something I wrote recently in the Neverending Saga, I repurposed another of the illustrations from my old 1981 calendar, coloring a kitten and a tiny chick hatching. Putting the page in my “coloring book” reminded me of an exchange in comments between Mark and me in which I talked about how Tom is always helping me figure out how to make ideas reality or find solutions for problems or projects I take to him.

It began with this oversized sketchbook I bought once at Ross. I don’t know why, because I don’t sketch. I’m not sure how artists use sketchbooks, but I assume after sketching, they tear out pages and do something with them (for example, I have a nephew who’s an artist, and sometimes he sketches when he’s in a restaurant or coffeehouse, and then gives the sketches to his servers, which I think is very cool).

Since I like to fill empty sketchbooks with my coloring pages, and many of my coloring books are oversized, I decided to use the large sketchbook for that purpose. I wanted it to have a more personalized cover, so I collaged it. The collage is full of things that reference memories, friendships, interests, and my fiction. Since the front cover of the sketchbook was of very thin card stock, I glued a sturdier sheet of cardboard on the inside front cover so the collage wouldn’t weigh it down and damage it.

I began to fill it up in 2022 and 2023 with the coloring I did. I used only the front pages, and when I came to the end of those in May of this year, I didn’t want to stop using the book. I still felt very attached to my collaged front cover. I decided to start at the end of the sketchbook and put new coloring pages on the back sides of every page until I got back to the beginning of the book. This is the last page in the book that I did when I was coloring up a storm–I mean, literally coloring pages during daylight hours when the storm knocked out our power for six days.

Here’s an example of how using the backs now provides two completed pages to view at once.

However, that flimsy front cover began tearing at the holes on the spiral binding. When I’d reinforced the cover in 2022, I hadn’t considered how the unreinforced holes would bear the increasing weight of the sketchbook.

So while the power was out, I showed Tom the problem, and as always, he devised a solution. He removed the front cover, cut another strip of the cardboard, glued it on the edge leaving extra space to punch holes, and put the front cover back on the spiral binding. I think this will hold until I finish filling the book. Maybe by then, I’ll have enough images to collage the front of another sketchbook–and when I do, I’ll pick one with a sturdier front cover.

Button Sunday

Found this button online, a steampunk theme with cursive writing. I do so little writing by hand these days that my penmanship is atrocious. But I do know how to write that way, and I well remember all the handwritten letters I received in my younger years (truth be told, I still have most of them, though I hope all the males to whom I ever sent letters have thrown all of mine away–or could send them to me, so I can roll my eyes at my younger self).

I already had journals and journaling on my mind when I was looking at buttons today. Yesterday, as I searched for my original essential oils inventory list, which I never found (finally just started a new one and input it to a computer doc, so I’ll know where to find it when I need it again), I opened a file folder that contained a tangle of embroidery thread and a ticket stub. I suspect the embroidery thread went with a cross-stitch piece I started back in the 1990s of a white cat sitting in a window (you can read about that in an old post here).

When the stitching remained unfinished, I finally wrote a poem about it and put the partially finished piece in a frame with the poem. It hung on my wall at The Compound for years, and now I have no clue where it is. I added it to my list of inexplicably missing items.

In the same folder, I found a ticket to a matinee showing of Star Wars: The Last Jedi from February 2018. That faded ticket, at least, I could put inside my current Moleskine.

As you can see, I’ve rarely used my Moleskines for capturing my sloppy cursive writing.

Like the one above, the Moleskines (and some are Moleskine knockoffs) are filled with mementoes of all kinds, and they get very fat; too fat for shelving. So they have a bin they go into when they’re full. I do still journal from time to time, but I mostly scribble a day’s events or thoughts in whatever kind of day planner or daily appointment book I keep.

Do you still handwrite your letters? Do you journal or keep a datebook or diary?

P.S. I have now reread all five of the TJB novels. I was amazed at how many things I’ve forgotten and how moved I could still be by those characters and their stories. This book, in particular, required a box of tissues right next to me. I kept having to close the book and cry.

Now I need to get back to The Musician in the Neverending Saga before he writes mean songs about my neglect.

On writing and looking back

Something else I did while the power was out was unplanned but not unprovoked.

From time to time, readers of the TJB books mention to its four writers, or on social media or book sites like Goodreads, that they’re reading the five Manhattan novels again (the fourth of those isn’t set in Manhattan but is connected peripherally with two or three cameo appearances by or references to the Manhattan characters). There are also people who say they reread my two Coventry books (especially A Coventry Christmas during the holiday season). There are still people who tell me Three Fortunes In One Cookie (written with Timothy) is their favorite of all the books I’ve cowritten (and some who contend that in The Deal, the main character chose the wrong man at the end, which always tickles me; as readers, we bring our own histories with us to the books we read).

I understand this compulsion to reread, because there are novels I’ve been rereading since I was a kid. They’re comfort novels, or novels connecting me to childhood, or funny novels that still make me laugh, or novels with love stories that I never tire of. There’s nothing like a satisfying ending to a love story. One set of novels I’ve reread more times than I could count, written in the 1940s/50s, is a series that tracks a family from the American Revolution to World War II. It connects me not only to my joy of reading as a young teen, but to my mother and sister, who also read, treasured, and reread the series. (Note: The last time I read these, I said, “Debby, these novels would be problematic now,” and she agreed. I guess they’re like early love: recalled with affection, but with awareness that it probably wouldn’t appeal to you at a wiser age.)

Additionally, beginning around 1990, I read a lot of gay fiction (and non-fiction, for that matter), much of it recommended by my late friend Steve, a bookseller and avid reader. It was Steve who said to me, “One day, when you write, please tell our stories. Please don’t let all these things be forgotten.”

In the early to mid ’90s, every attempt I made to do so (mostly in short stories) felt flat to me. It could be because I felt flat. There was a lot of loss to take in over a few short, intense years. I knew I’d rather write nothing than write it badly.

And then into my life came very much alive men who urged me to write those stories, and the three men who began to write them with me, with the outcome of that: books on bookshelves.

About those novels I wrote or cowrote: I read them so much when writing, editing, and proofreading them, that by the time they were released (usually about a year after the final manuscript was submitted), I didn’t have a lot of interest in revisiting them. As soon as a novel was released, I’d read it once, for two reasons: I looked for any errors that made it through all those sets of eyes (ours and our publishers), and I wanted to refresh my memory before I read industry reviews and reader reviews, and before I/we started getting reader email.

Not including short stories in anthologies, the nine novels I’ve written or co-written were released over the years 2001 to 2007. I likely haven’t reread any of them since their publication year, other than quick checks to ensure continuity (since characters are shared in the TJB books and they are linear, and the same is true of the Coventry books).

Upon the release of the TJB novels, I could say with pinpoint accuracy which of the writers wrote what scenes, as well as recall discussions of what edits were made by us to all of us. And now… I have discovered that’s no longer true. While the power was out, during daylight hours, I picked up the first Manhattan novel, It Had To Be You, and read it again. I was amazed by all the things I’d forgotten. I knew the general plot and how it would end, but mostly it was like reading it for the first time. The most startling thing was that I COULDN’T REMEMBER WHO WROTE WHAT.

All that made for a much more pleasurable read. I’d worried about a couple of things over the years: that the books would be dated (especially with how technology has changed); and that some things might seem insensitive, because we understand or are learning so much more about LGBTQ+ lives and issues in 2024 than we did when that first book was written (beginning in 1998 and up until publication in 2001). All of those concerns melted away as I got to read that book with fresh eyes. Would I rewrite the book? No. Are there word choices I might edit? Sure. Always. But none of that took away my enjoyment of the characters, the humor, the pathos, and the drama–because some characters are actors, female impersonators, or drag queens, of course there is drama. Drama is their profession. And after all, outside of novels, we are each of us the main characters/heroes/villains of our own ongoing stories.

I don’t know if I’m ready to reread all of the novels I’ve written or cowritten, but I don’t mind admitting that when I closed the back cover on this one:

I immediately returned it to the shelf and took out this one:

In both novels, though I couldn’t say for sure who wrote exactly what, there are points when I said, “OH, this sounds like me, and I hope I wrote that. Either that or part of it.” And points when I realized there are connections/similarities between things in those first two novels to things I’m currently writing. That leads me to believe those things were written by me, or if not, as I texted Timothy and Jim, “Don’t sue me.”

Button Sunday

Speaking of unicorns, it’s Timothy J. Lambert’s birthday today! Wishing him a happy one and looking forward to celebrating it when we can all convene. Thought I’d share photos from most of the birthdays we’ve celebrated with him since he moved here in late 2001. Missing years are likely photos inaccessible on a maimed computer; if he was in town, we celebrated on or around his birthday.

2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2011, 2012, 2012 cake, 2013 (Saints & Sinners), 2014 (Saints & Sinners), 2016, 2017, 2018, 2020, 2021, 2022 cake, 2023

It’s all about where the dogs sleep

Sugar, Rex, and Guinness watch Tom cut the grass.

This was our living room sofa at The Compound. It was a sofa bed, so we could accommodate guests. Besides the master bedroom, we had only one bedroom with twin beds for guests. This sofa opened to a queen-sized mattress, and it was used when family and friends visited and our guest bedroom spilled over.

Mother lived in the garage apartment (the Dollhouse), and she used the space upstairs for her bedroom and living area, and the downstairs had her dining room table in the open space that included the kitchen.

After Mother moved (several times, to many places in three states), and Timothy moved to Houston, the Dollhouse became his. That’s when couches began moving around. I’d given the twin beds and the hutch that matched them to Lynne, and moved an off-white sofa (that my mother left) into that bedroom.

Guinness, Margot, and River playing chase on the off white sofa.

There were also two workspaces in that room, turning it into an office for Tim and me (we were at that time writing books together, and it was very efficient for us to office in the same space).

Tim with Rex, the silent TJB partner, in the office he and I shared.

Tim bought a leather sofa from Amy for the Dollhouse living room. And we eventually got rid of Mother’s off white sofa and bought a smaller blue sleeper sofa to put in The Compound’s second bedroom. It, too, was used a lot, so it was very convenient.

Rex and Sugar, napping on the little blue sofa bed.

We didn’t NEED any more couches. They were everywhere. But one day, shopping for something else, I found an antique love seat and chair. IMPULSE BUY.

Penny and Pixie, deciding the antique love seat is just right.

Queen Margot chooses to sleep alone on the antique chair.

The big brown sofa bed went downstairs in Tim’s apartment. And then Tim got a sectional sofa group from a friend, and Amy’s old leather couch came to The Compound, and damn if I remember where we put the antique love seat and chair.

AND THEN WE ALL MOVED TO HOUNDSTOOTH HALL in 2015, where there was so much more room, inside and out, for dogs. And for the sofas they sleep on!

The little blue sleeper sofa was in our library along with the antique love seat and chair. Amy’s leather sofa was in our living room. And the big brown sofa bed was in the spacious office.

Anime, deciding she’ll take this bedroom, please.

Tim had his sectional in Fox Den; Debby brought her furniture from Ohio when she moved into Fairy Cottage; and all was well. Until…. the 2017 flood. Goodbye, Debby’s chair and couch. Goodbye, Tim’s sectional. Goodbye, Becky and Tom’s brown sofa bed and little blue sleeper sofa. And thank goodness for flood insurance!

Amy’s leather sofa was undamaged in our living room. Then we had the antique love seat and chair reupholstered (along with a chair Lynne had given us and a chair Sarah had given us years ago that were also flood damaged). We were in no hurry to replace the brown sofa bed.

Debby and Tim replaced their furniture first. Then Tim decided that his replacement sofa (almost the same color blue as our old sleeper sofa) wasn’t durable enough for his large dogs, so we took it and he got something a little tougher.

The blue sofa worked, but look where Jack is.

“I need a lot of mattress so I don’t feel the pea.” –The Princess Anime

And look where Anime is.

Those two and Delta always wanted to sleep on those back cushions, often all three of them at the same time, which I knew would gradually break the cushions down. I was constantly plumping them and making the dogs move. Finally, I made a decision. Years ago, Tom and I had a daybed in one of our guest rooms (pre-Compound), and I’ve always missed it. I decided I wanted another daybed in the office, and we could donate the blue sofa while it was still in very good condition.

Pollock is one of the reasons I wanted something that could be slept on in the office. Back in the old days, before the flood, Pollock and his sisters would hang out in our house while I worked from home and Tom and Tim worked elsewhere. But all the dogs were apart for a month after the flood, and when Tim and his dogs returned, Delta and Jack didn’t like Pollock coming over anymore. It was fine. Pollock, Pixie, and Penny were cool in Fox Den, and Debby was nearby with Harley and Stewie.

In the seven years since, a lot of things changed because of aging dogs. Harley went to the Rainbow Bridge. Then Penny. Then Pixie. Then Stewie.

After pandemic restrictions eased, Tim’s work schedule got very busy, requiring him to be away occasionally several nights in a row. After Stewie was gone, Pollock would hang out with Debby. When Debby scheduled a couple of months away on her current trip, I decided if I went ahead and got a daybed for the office, Pollock and I could sleep back there. The Dutch door would keep him and our dogs apart and avoid any drama. (It’s not bad drama. There’s no fighting. But there’s a lot of trash talking, and Tom and I both like to sleep.)

After a suggestion from Lynne, I checked Ikea’s site for daybeds and found exactly what I wanted, and they had it in stock. Tom went to get it. The idea was that he’d put it together weekend before last, and he and Tim would take the blue sofa in Tim’s new truck to Goodwill.

Oh. Did you know Tim has a new truck? His ten-year-old car had served him well, but it had a LOT of miles and was at the point where repairs would be needed.

He’s happy with his purchase, but neither man nor beast will be sleeping in the truck.

Then I read that rain was forecast last Wednesday and Thursday, and since Tim was pressed for time, he and Tom packed the blue sofa into my SUV and Tom took it to Goodwill on Tuesday. That evening, he decided to assemble the bed instead of waiting for the weekend. (He’s one of those people who likes to put things together from diagrams, and they always turn out right. This is not a skill I understand at all.)

So. Daybed was in place. I had plenty of time to get linens and maybe some new dog-friendly throw pillows, and change the room around a little before Debby left and Tim would be away at night, leaving Pollock free to come over for slumber parties with me.

Except as we all know now, we got that rain that was forecast and WAY more drama from wind than dogs ever cause. Without electricity, I ended up sleeping on that daybed days before intended. It was right by windows that let a breeze into the room. Our four dogs could go between sleeping with Tom and with me; there wouldn’t be four hot dogs and two hot humans in any one bed.

When the power came back Wednesday, I was finally better able to ready the new setup for when Pollock sleeps over.

I ran off dogs so I could take this photo of the new daybed and the old quilt.

See ya later, Pollock!