What is “normal”? I will define it as a routine, something that’s beginning to feel comfortable and predictable.
We’ve been in Teresita’s rancho now for two weeks. Only recently have I ventured outside. I marvel at the grass. I end up eating it… Greens in my diet never hurt.
The first night we were here….was scary. The bedroom is not insulated. The wind whipped through there as if we were hanging out in a barn. A barn actually might have been warmer…We all were challenged on keeping warm. And stepping out—without shoes--onto a floor that’s almost as old as the dirt beneath it is even a challenge …
Since then, the Handlers have learned how to dress in record speeds. And sleeping with a wool cap on is a must. My ears get pretty cold at night but I’ve been finding some sweet spots between the Handlers to burrow down into.
The geranium got nipped last Saturday as the temperature dropped to 23 deg F. This was unacceptable. The travel brochures never mentioned it got THAT cold.
The sunrises are incredible thanks to the Chilean volcano continuing to spew volcanic ash.
Last night’s flights out of Montevideo and across the river in Buenos Aires were grounded again (just like they were the previous Friday when the Handler’s friend Bill was scheduled to leave out of Buenos Aires to Houston—instead he could have stayed with us an extra day!).
Ricky has been bolder on exploring the outside. Me…I just stress by the door.
They have these huge beasts near the house. They look fierce!
But mostly….we felines sleep:
If I’m lucky, I manage to sleep near someone:
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