Let’s say it began when my glasses disappeared. I didn’t lose them, they simply slithered off my lap and into the dark regions of Vik’s car. This, while Vik and I were killing time during the construction project down at the barn. Here are the men hard at work:

This is Gordon, viewed front on. Being silly:

And the result:

Sweet! But where were my glasses? After a thorough search of my purse, all jacket pockets, front seat and floor of Vik’s car, I determined that they’d slipped away at the Camas Country Store where we’d been buying a loaf of bread. Fine. Called them. Nope, closed at four. Open next on Tuesday morning.

I limp along with an old pair, circa last century, passing time while the clock slowly rolls along. The ATV broke. My tooth hurts. It rains.

Finally, Tuesday arrives and I phone the store. Something wrong with their phone? Only busy tone, for several hours. In frustration, I persuade Larry that it’s a nice day for a ride. We head for Camas. And now we’re back at the top of this blog.

My glasses are not at the store. Nothing to do but to go home and have lunch, maybe somewhere fun? I’ll have to start over, get a new pair. Yes, they’re prescription. At the intersection of Vogt and Highway 36, we stop to wait for a truck pulling a huge piece of farm machinery. His blinkers indicate a turn onto Vogt, so Larry obligingly moves forward a little and to the right to give him room for his turn.

Ooops. He wasn’t turning. He had all both blinkers on as a caution on the narrow road. Of course he couldn’t stop, and simply sliced off the front of our car.

No one hurt, an incredibly nice young man driving the rig, who helped us peel off the bumper and grate, picked up the glass, kept apologizing as if it were his fault, which of course it wasn’t. Just Larry being thoughtful, and, of course, biting himself in the butt for days after. How many days we don’t know yet, we’ll have to wait and see.

Okay, we can still drive it, have spoken to the insurance company, are waiting to hear from the repair shop. Just have to drive my car for awhile.

Which we did last evening. Because I had an appointment for a root canal this morning in Portland. I know. Ouch! Also the appointment for Covid shot #2 at noon, in Albany. I’d spoken to my pc doc, who said absolutely not. You can’t do both on the same day. So I thought I’d get the tooth fixed, then show up at the Expo for my shot and tell them I needed another appointment for the the second.

Vik called. GORDON FOUND MY GLASSES! They were hiding out in Vik’s car after all. Ha! I can see! I can read!

But the endodontist this morning said no. He thought the shot was more important than the tooth, that there’s a time constraint for shot#2, and it would be difficult to get another appointment, while I can come back and see him next week.

Seriously? Well, okay. Back to Albany. And he was certainly right, as this time the Expo was crowded, unruly, filled with old people who can’t quite move along in a line very well or get the documents all filled out in advance. Tries the patience, these old people.

So we both have our shots, hooray. We decide to just have lunch at home, and are turning into our driveway when:

The cows are back! And we get home to see them unload! Seventeen new yearlings, teen-agers of the bovine world. They’re so funny. Awkward, curious, pretty darn ugly, starting with dirty. Like they care.

They stumble out of the trailer and settle in. Some of them, Scott tells us, might have been here last year. Maybe so. At the moment they’re all having a nap down by the latest fallen tree.

Speaking of fallen trees, three more in the east forty. Here are a couple of candidates for the next to go, plus a rare selfie of your correspondent:

Now Larry has made Cincinnati chile for dinner, smells delicious. We’re tired, took our Tylenol, waiting. Waiting. We’re tough. We think. Will let you know next time. Wondering if I can get an emoji onto the blog. 🧐 Yes!