The New Royal Canine Transport Vehicle

I am good at naming dogs but terrible at naming vehicles. We picked up the new RAV4 yesterday from Frank Cruz at Toyota of Muscatine and I am thrilled with this awesome new car. I received the full trade in value that I requested for my 2016 4Runner, which was substantially more than what I paid for it gently used in January 2019. So, for once our family benefitted from strange economic times. Andy has a bit of new car envy-itis so we're talking to Frank about ordering a 2022 Tacoma and trading in Andy's 4Runner. He loves his SUV, but has grand plans for a custom topper and having the bed space for camping gear. I have no intentions of doing any kind of rough camping, no matter how nice and extensive the gear selection becomes! We'll eventually purchase a class C recreational vehicle, which will tow the RAV4 when we travel to dog shows and beyond.

I brought my small surplus of hand knitted hats to the Toyota dealership yesterday. I gave hats to Frank and the two guys in the financial department (unfortunately their names slipped my brain). I tried to give a hat to Chad in the service department, who moved mountains to get the vehicle inspected and ready for pickup yesterday. I had a hunch that he would want a more plain hat than the ones I had on hand, and last week I started to knit a blue based hat with a rustic brown stripe, in luxury yarns with high cashmere contents that more than made up for their lack of colorful flair. Unfortunately, I overdid things with the landscaping project I started on Sunday when the warm weather pushed me outdoors. There's a small pond in the gardens south of our house that deteriorated before the previous owners listed the house in 2015. It was already nonfunctional when we moved in, but was a glorious koi pond in its early days. I love koi fish and have wanted to have a koi pond for decades.

When we lived in Iowa City, I tried to keep koi in a 300 gallon stock tank in our basement. At the time, I worked at the State Hygienic Laboratory, and I still clearly remember my favorite associate director telling me sternly, "Elizabeth, you are skating on the edge of dangerous pathogens!" Dear Dr. Pentella is now the director of that lab and had to deal with far more dangerous pathogens since the pandemic began. He was so much fun to work with and it was a great game for me to see what I could say that would get him exasperated and worried for my safety. He genuinely cares about people, a rare trait in management. I had all great bosses at the lab and should have never applied for, never mind accepted, the position that transferred me downtown to Risk Management. What a terrible mistake. The old building that housed the lab was torn down and I never got to work in the new building. When I pass it on one of my driving excursions, I wonder if I would still be working there had I not had such ambitions for upward mobility, blindly trusting the forked tongues of people only advancing their personal interests. I started that last job in February 2009 and by October 2010 my self worth was so degraded that I seriously contemplated suicide. I went on sick leave that turned into permanent disability and continue to this day to rebuild myself stronger and more resilient. I smiled on the day I learned that the director in Risk Management was fired, but I then frowned because she quickly took a similar position at a university in the southwest. The woman they replaced her with was not an improvement and the department continues to be a revolving door of misery.

Due to raccoons, along with herons and other wild birds that would relish a plump koi meal, I won't rebuild the koi pond I am dismantling in the front gardens. I used the tractor to begin removing the retaining walls and leveling the site. Hundreds of decorative concrete blocks were used to construct the pond. The lining had holes in many areas and the pond never held more than a few inches of water. Given that there was no pump to circulate the water, the area became a world class mosquito breeding facility. We had a number of nights this December with temperatures well below freezing, so the blocks were partially frozen in place. I got off the tractor every time I unearthed a new batch; the project quickly strayed from simple demolition to fascinating archeological expedition. I loaded blocks, each weighing around 40 pounds, until the tractor bucket was full, throwing in any natural rocks that were small enough for me to lift. I then drove the tractor to Andy's campsite in the prairie, near the oak heart tree, and deposited the load near the metal fire rim so we can recycle the materials in that area. I think I made four trips with just blocks and rocks. I made countless dozens of trips with dirt loads, and when the sun dropped so low that the dig site became shaded and chilly, I worked for awhile behind the house. I started multiple projects because I was having so much fun and just plain wanted to keep going.

Sunday night, I woke around 2 am in extreme pain, and knew that I overdid things. My back muscles spasmed angrily and I had to go upstairs to find ibuprofen. Sleep evaded me the rest of the night and Monday was an exercise in futility, me against my protesting body. Andy had a similar experience about a month ago, and he picked up the chores he knew I couldn't perform in my physical state. On Tuesday I rested, accepting temporary convalescence, as well most of Wednesday. I felt 90% better by Wednesday afternoon, so I decided to vacuum the parrot rooms. I was on my rump on the ground in the blue room, merrily moving the shop vac hose to suck up the expensive organic pellets that the parrots gleefully toss from their bowls, and I twisted to get the hose under Pickles' cage. The ensuing back spasm was like a crack of lightning across a cloudless night sky. I collapsed in pain and actually screamed. I could not stand. The best I could do was crawl, turn off the shop vac, and continued to crawl into the neighboring room where I hoped to find my cell phone. I texted HELP to Andy, then dragged myself into the armchair and got the heated back pad turned on. Andy rushed in from outside and I told him what happened. I had the fresh water bowls for all ten parrots neatly filled on the kitchen island. Andy changed water bowls, handed out more pellets to be imminently discarded, and turned off lights in the bird rooms. I cursed myself heartily. Hours later, I was able to hobble into the shower, and back to the guest bedroom bed. Morning held little relief but I wanted to hold the 11:30 am appointment to pick up the new RAV4. I forced myself to move slowly in everything I did. I made arrangements for a friend to come over next week to clean the bird rooms. Clearly this back of mine is demanding more than a day or two of rest and it will claw that rest out of me however it deems appropriate.

I was able to drive my 4Runner to the Toyota dealership. Andy followed me in his 4Runner, scheduled for service that day. We got all the paperwork done, hats handed out, and enjoyed a delicious lunch at Skinny's Barbeque in Muscatine. I drove the RAV4 home, all smiles, and I intentionally continued to practice self kindness and reserved movements for the rest of the day. Today, Friday, I felt 98% better when I woke up. I did the bird chores, fed the dogs, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, then forced myself to sit and not do anything further. After coffee, I did go out to the new RAV4 and put on the few decals I ordered for it in November. I drove it to a few spots for pictures, found the button for the heated seat, and smiled a lot. I resisted, and continue to resist, the little voice in my head nagging, "Move the Dakota dog crates into the new car." No, I will not wield those large crates into there today! It's time to change the water bowls in the parrot cages and enjoy another half hour sitting against the heat pad! Whatever energy and daylight remains afterwards will be spent scooping the day's dog poop in the yard. Then, if I don't need to take another dose of ibuprofen, I am going to enjoy a glass of wine while sitting near the propane fire box on the deck.

Merry Christmas!