Friday, June 26, 1998

Willa 6/26/98
 
        Bob spent the night out at John's farm so that they could get up and go fishing in the morning without him having to drive out there at 5:00 a.m. So I took the opportunity to sleep in. He called at about 8:00 to say hello and tell me that they were getting ready to head out. When I hung up the phone and turned over to go back to sleep, Pyewacket was curled up on my pillow. So I drug her off the pillow and pulled her down next to me. She ended up with her head on the pillow, too, and we curled up and went back to sleep until almost 10:00, when Bob's mother called to wish him a happy birthday.

        We talked for a little while and I thanked her for coming over and feeding Pyewacket when we were out of town last weekend. She said that she went upstairs one day and laid down on our bed and Pye came and draped herself across her neck, like she does with Bob. She said she stayed there for about five minutes, then she walked on top of her down the length of her body and bit her foot.

        I spent a couple of hours playing around with Bryce again, and this time I saved something:

Click on the screenshot to see the full-size graphic.

        I'm somewhat limited in that I don't have the full package, just a demo, so I can't save anything and go back and edit or change it. I had to capture it by doing a screenshot, which is cheating, I suppose. Obviously, though, the purpose of a demo is to hook you and get you to buy the full product, and I may have to do that. It's pretty addictive. There aren't any help files, so I just have to figure it out on my own. The CD came with a magazine that has a tutorial of sorts, but it's probably more fun just playing around with it and discovering things as I need them.

        I had to take Pyewacket to the vet again this afternoon to have her eyes checked. He said they're better and I just need to keep putting the drops in through the weekend, then I can stop. She doesn't like them at all, I think they sting. She's usually very good about having medicinal things done to her, but she struggles a little when I come at her with the eyedrop bottle. And she cried pitifully in the car coming home. She had apparently had a hairball this morning. She hasn't had very many of those yet, so she doesn't seem to be used to them. She seemed to feel sort of yucky about it. So when I brought her back in the house I cuddled her a little bit and told her it was okay. She's such a sweet cat. Very affectionate and very expressive.

        I had decided this morning that I would try to take a road trip this afternoon. I didn't really have any place in particular in mind, but I packed a small cooler with a couple of cans of Diet Coke, some cheese and crackers, and a bottle of apple juice, got a book and the digital camera, and took off. After I got out on the road, I decided to head north to Parkville. There's a beautiful old college up there that was built in the 1800's, and every time I got by it I regret that I didn't bring my camera. So I wandered around the grounds for awhile, took some pictures, then looked for a place to have my snack. There's a pretty little park by the river, but there never seems to be anyone there, and I've never stopped there.

        I found out why there's never anyone there--there's no place to park. I finally found the entrance and drove in, and drove down the road through the park, which was plastered with "No Parking" signs. There were several places that appeared to be parking areas, but they were posted "No Parking," too. In order to sit in the park I would have had to park in a parking lot several blocks away and walk, and while that wouldn't have been unduly burdensome on a nicer day, it was around 95 degrees and sunny this afternoon and I decided not to subject myself to it. I brought my picnic home and ate it in the backyard.

        There are new reader photographs on Page 3 of the Photograph Album, and the pictures I took in Parkville are on Page 4, along with a new one of Pyewacket. Oh, and today is Bob's Birthday!

Copyright © 1998 Willa G. Cline