Hangover Monday

 It's Monday.  Yuk.

I feel muddled and messy and slow to get going.   Too much yard and house work over the weekend, I blame for my Monday blahs.  My shoulder got inflamed and I couldn't sleep last night because I couldn't get comfortable.

I read myself to sleep in the end, finishing a book that wasn't that good to begin with.  Glad its done with.

The temperature yesterday had plunged by many many degrees over the nice day we had here on Saturday.  Tonight, accuweather says the temp will get down to 27 degrees F.  

I'm glad I didn't go buy plants to put in on Saturday.  It was very difficult not to go buy plants, like half the folks in Oregon may have done.  It was the gloriously nice day, makes everyone crazy to think spring is here and wanting to plant something.

My friend in Portland bought a ton of native plants Saturday at a nursery that only sells natives.  She sent me the list of what she got and I looked them up one by one.   I then dreamed of planting a Mock Orange, Ocean Spray, Ceonothes, Red and Yellow twig Dogwood, Oregon Grape, Oregon Lupine.  

I don't have a  green thumb.  If I bought any plants they'd likely end up dead plants.

Little Thunder plays most of the day, with whomever she can talk into it.

The old gals club.  Shady, Buffy and Panda meet at the food dish this morning.  Shady and Buffy are from the same huge BS colony, 120 cats fixed, of years ago.  Buffy is a little younger than Shady and Mops, who died recently, was Buffy's brother.  Panda, the black tux girl, has lived here 14 years, coming here just after I moved to Albany from Corvallis, with her brother, Soloman.  Panda was diagnosed with a heart murmur years and years ago.  She now also has arthritis so climbs to her window level cat bed slowly.  Panda is well loved here by many cats who all want to sleep next to her.

Shady seeks morning sun.

The ship stuck in the Suez canal was freed.  I read that this morning and thought they must be whooping for joy over there.  Especially the tug boat crews and sand diggers who made it happen.  When I was little I had a toy tugboat and we often went to watch the tugs manuever huge ships in the harbors of coastal Oregon.

Muffy was in a posing mood this morning (standing still for once)

This is the favorite cat tree in the house by far.  It shows the wear.  I've recarpeted parts of it twice now.

This is about how lazy I feel this morning......

Last night, about 5 p.m., someone said online they could give me a spot of theirs for today.   I quickly tried to contact the lady feeding two tamish males, even though they have not caught either one prior to clinics for two weeks.  But they were out of town.  Then I contacted a lady who had just called me, about a male who beat up on her long fixed old feral boy.  I'd caught him and the girl she feeds years and years ago, for fixing.    I went over and set up a trap by 6:00, on her porch, with a water bottle and string attached, to selectively trap, but the big black boy wouldn't go all the way in.  I left her, after an hour, to try for herself without selective trapping.  She'd managed to feed the other two.  However she subsequently caught both the other two and the black huge male saw the whole thing and wouldn't go in after that.  So I didn't get to use that spot.  Getting the boys fixed, often saves their lives.  I like to get it done pronto this time of year.

I have a flicker of hope in my mind, after seeing a post on a TNR website for the valley.  A lady knows someone outside Lebanon with outbuildings and space who wants five or six feral cats.   Immediately I messaged her, but it was late and she said she'd call later this week.  She is willing to do the work of the relocation and I had immediately thought of the junk shop cats.  I would retrap only the healthiest ones of appropriate color for a rural setting.   My mind was ablaze with happiness at the thought last night---another thing that kept me awake I guess, that some of the cats at the junk shop could get a clean healthier place to live.  I won't tell the junk shop boys yet, as if it falls through and sometimes these things do, they would grumble.