Creek Jots ~ Early December 2012
â–¶ Some of you who don’t do Facebook or Twitter have been grateful to find information about Doug Thompson’s status here, and since many of you live beyond the reach of local papers, I’ll point you to a piece about Doug that was published yesterday in Dan Casey’s column in the Roanoke Times.
â–¶ I think one day this week I’ll give the chainsaw a light workout with my new thumb. There are some fallen branches to cut into stove length, and some small locusts felled by the power company on my neighbor’s land, and he’s said it was okay for me to take them. Functionally, the hand is coming along: I’m typing this and NOT dictating anymore, at least not constantly. But there is some nerve damage–sensory only–that makes the top of my thumb feel like it’s about half-way out from under a heavy dose of Novacaine. It’s numb, but it’s a burning numbness, if that makes any sense–a new “feature” of Thumb 2.0
â–¶ I’m enjoying the Netflix access to the TV series, Doc Martin, only early into the first season. The story is ostensibly from an English port town of Port Wenn, inÂ real life, theÂ villageÂ of Port Isaac, Cornwall. I found it easily in Google Earth and have gone in Street View down the narrow passageways through the picturesque hillside town and felt like I somewhat knew my way around.
â–¶ Gandy is occupied, while I’m typing, by nibbling away thread-at-a-time at a stuffed-toy carcass. Once she breaches the hull and starts gleefully ripping out theÂ nylon stuffing, I’ll usually just toss the thing (bought for not much at the local thrift store) in the trash. But sometimes, I really need her to have an object of attention other than me. So I’ll take scissors and eviscerate the beast, and give the dog the empty shell. She’s working on one now.
â–¶ Said mutt is in puppy detention just now. At a most inconvenient time for stopping what I was doing to run intervene, the VDOT Volvo road scrapper came by while Herself was free-ranging. By the time I reached the door, there she was cavorting with the wide load like it was her friend Jessie come to play. Round and round we went. The driver was both tolerant and amused. Me, not so much.