Still Hot and Dry

On to Treatment Cycle 7
I went to the oncologist again today. She says I'm still responding well to the treatment - numbers coming down. Also had my Zometa treatment - about half an hour, given through my port. Their little machine to do the 'protime' test (tells how thick or thin the blood is with only a couple of drops of blood) wasn't working, so they had to take a small vial of blood from my arm. For some reason they won't do that test with the blood they take through the port. I was surprised to get a phone call already about the results already, and instructions on how to adjust my Coumadin dosage for the next two weeks.

Poor Midnight
Alyssa called earlier. When I told her that we had buried the cat on Friday night, she said, "Did she die?" DUH! No, I get my kicks burying live cats! When I was holding Midnight while Dominic dug the hole, I couldn't help thinking of the book someone gave me many years ago - something like 101 Things to Do with a Dead Cat. I wonder what ever became of that book.

When we were deciding where to dig the hole (it's been so dry that Dominic said digging was very hard), I noticed that there were a couple dozen black locust seedlings that needed to be mowed down, so I took care of that early Saturday morning. Other than that, it's been about a month since we mowed.

Knitting
I don't think I ever mentioned how much knitting I did in July - probably because I didn't do much. I only knit five scarves and one dishcloth. I also crocheted several of the hexagons for the bedspread, but mostly I read. Actually, my hands had gotten tired of needles and hooks, so I gave them a rest. I haven't done much yet this month either, but I did start a T-shirt style top for Alexis on Saturday night. It's in a sport weight, gray cotton. Her middle name is Starr, so I've worked six stars (three on the front and three on the back) in double seed stitch. I'll probably finish it tomorrow - things for six-year-olds go quickly.

Reading
Much of what I've been reading is Agatha Christie. They're all small books, mostly either Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple; however a couple of them were neither and they seemed to be more 'substantial' than the Poirot and Marple ones.

Probably the best book I read was one by Wallace Stegner that a friend brought to me while I was in hospital. I'd never read any of his works, but I think I will in the future. Perhaps I'll see what else the Mayfield library has by him when I go there tomorrow. It will be good to have one book that's worthwhile along with the 'fluff' I plan to check out.