Life is returning to normal for me, or as normal as I know how to make it in August. I'm back at work after two weeks off, I'm back at my house by myself with my dogs. We're into our routine where the girls wake before I do and sit up, staring at me until I make a movement indicating I'll be getting up soon, then Tess gets on the floor and peeks at me with her head wedged next to the bureau by the bed, staring and trying to lick my face. I still have to let them out one at a time. When I got back from Rhode Island, having separated Tess from Chances for a week, it took Tess about 15 minutes to take Chances off for a quick walk to bring her up to date on the events of the week. They came back soon enough, though, sufficiently bonded and pleased.

I had a really nice time in Rhode Island but it's a confusing thing, re-defining a family that was once a family of five and is now a family of 3. We're all working it out, and we love each other very much. More important, we truly enjoy each other's company and make each other laugh a lot--to me this is crucial. So we laughed a lot, and enjoyed the ocean and did some things together and just spent time with each other. It was good, settling into our new roles as a three-woman group. We had Champlin's lobster rolls at our beach picnic and watched, white-knuckled, as children "played" in the surf. We swam at Molly's (Cyclone) Beach, where Mark says spam-sucking trailer trash go. We sat in the sand and watched the surf and lazed in the hazy sun at the town beach, our perennial favorite. We had breakfast at Jim's Dock, sitting on a deck just above the water while admiring the new high-speed Block Island ferry and a huge pleasure boat, sipping coffee endlessly and enjoying being together outside. We went to Mystic Aquarium and were able to identify the kind of frogs that are visiting Liza's pond (green frogs) and watched the sea lion show, where Rider, Coco, Surfer and Tabor performed great tricks and feats. We counted the frogs in Liza's pond at least twice a day and conjectured endlessly what happened to the little one's left hind foot. We were stalked by a snorting buck every, every single night (thanks to Chances, he never made it to the house). I slept in my favorite place, the gazebo in the woods. We watched South Park the movie and laughed and laughed, Unca Fucker, and blamed it on Canada. Thanks to Molly I was reunited with Talking Heads, and listened to them all the way home, volume turned up loud loud loud, singing at the top of my lungs (sugar on my tongue). We looked at so many pictures of us three children as cute young kids, at my father's generation as not-so-cute teenagers, my grandparent's house, my father, other ancesters--an endless list of people and places. Then we went to Walmart and made many, many copies of pictures so that now Molly and I have lots of pictures of our past and our family's past. This is nice.

And now I'm here, picking up my life where I left off. I tried to organize a slumber party in the boat house this weekend, the kernel of which was planted last year, but two of the lead characters aren't able to do it now so I think the deal's off. Ken and I were reunited Monday night over whiskey and a really nice visit. He stopped by last night to make dinner plans but I can't do it. I think Tess has mange (yes, mange--the sort of thing dogs owned by spam-sucking trailer trash, SSTT, have) so I have to take all three to the vet tonight and spend a lot of money getting them injected with Ivemectrin to kill the parasites. They get this from foxes who rub against bushes that they then rub against. It happened once before. Anyway, Ken got a $50 gift certificate at a restaurant in Wilmington for his 90th birthday celebration 2 weeks ago, so we're going there for dinner Sunday night. We're both excited to do that--he thinks we'll spend the entire amount. I think that's his goal, to eat and drink it all up. We'll see. I'm glad because we're going there in the evening, and I won't be spending all afternoon at Sunday dinner. Bill can't come because school starts this weekend.

And Saturday the Conservationists are meeting at Sonci. I used to get really nervous about this but now it's more of a chore. I haven't met my obligations to this group as well as I should have (what else is new). I'm working on the newsletter but so slowly, writing articles that are remotely interesting.

I like Jenica's description of her trip to the eye doctor and I can totally relate. It's great to have your eyes checked. I hate going but go every year because I get a free exam and free pair of glasses too. This year they talked me into bifocals rather than the trifocals I really need, these to help me with my work at the computer. So now I can't see far away but can work more comfortably at my desk. I use last year's glasses, all scratched, for driving and watching tv. A drag. I made an appointment with a chiropractor for next week, after talking to a friend who's doing his internship in chiropractic school about my carpal tunnel and neck trouble. The next day I go to Burlington for a bone density test, whatever that entails. It seems my medical things are continual, appointment after appointment. Guess that's what happens when you hit 50.

I cry less these days, but I find myself crying at odd times, and crying hard. The thoughts that Molly evoked in her description of Henry's cabin made me cry. Picturing the cabin, the garden, the pond and environs, made me think of my brother and his frame of mind when he was there. He just loved being there and I really enjoyed seeing him there. He couldn't walk past the garden without bending over to pull something out, pick something, or just take a look--the same way our father did. I thought about my family for about half of my trip home from Rhode Island, crying and thinking, missing people and wondering why some people do things that they do. I'm fiercely protective of myself and don't want to be hurt by anyone anymore. I feel myself reacting to things people do and by attitudes that I perceive are directed toward me and I get upset. I try not to let these things bother me but I want to be clear and strong and understood by people in my family, and I don't always feel that happens. It's something I work on and I feel great pressure about--pressure that comes from myself, granted, but pressure nevertheless.

And so today it's cloudy and fairly warm, a good day to be at work. It rained a little this morning. Supposed to be 60 tonight so it'll be a good night to spend in the boat house. When I get home from the vet--which might be as late as 8:00, I'll head down there, I hope, and sit on the porch to read. Let's see who's in camp.