Avoidance technique
There's not really much going on but if I don't do this I'll have to:
**Edit and make changes in the Lost Items Policy
**Write up minutes from meeting in Saranac Lake that happened about a month ago
**Put together a book order that equals exactly $2000 because that's all I have left to spend until January
**Continue my work in editing records in which the first words searched are A, An and The.

Does any of this sound remotely interesting? Actually the last one is very relaxing and rewarding, but after an hour or so I start to not care, my eyes get bleary, I focus more on the music I'm listening to, and I get really frustrated by the number of awful records our member libraries have put in the data base over the years. So I'll do that for a while until I've steeled myself to do my real work.

Life is settling into a winter routine here. The snow has pretty much melted, but I'm having a fire every night so must wrassle with the firewood piles. They're not covered adequately, and since it's been precipitating for the past week or so much of the wood is soaked and thus will not ignite. I crawl under the tarp, stepping on uneven and rolling pieces of firewood. So far I've only landed no my ass once, but I'm figuring that number will change soon enough. I tread very carefully, but it's a balancing act at best. I am finding, though, that most of the wood I bought in May is dry enough to burn--YESYESYES this is very exciting. What was last stacked, the stuff I got in September has a very doubtful future for the Burning Season of 2006-2007. I don't expect it to be dry enough but will probably have to use it at the end of the winter, totally gunking up my chimney until all I get is smoke pouring out of the stove when I open it--no heat, no flame, just smoke. I've had the chimney cleaned (and have the bounced check to prove it) and am off to a flying start so far.

I met a dog named Atticus recently. Not at all like his namesake, this dog is untrustworthy, bordering on vicious. The guy adopted him from a pound, and the first time he walked him the dog ripped another person's jeans in an attack. Well, for me that would have been a clear message that the dog needed to go back to the pound (I will not have a dog that bites--the last time I did, he went to sleep at the vet's and never woke up). Kevin wants this dog, however, and his method for dealing with aggression is to have the dog take a Time Out. Fred described it to me after Atticus bit Fred's ankle (no broken skin, thanks to socks and shoes). Kevin picks up the dog (who must weigh close to 70 pounds) and carries him to a spot away from the action, laying him down gently. He tells the dog he's in a Time Out and Atticus lies there until he's told it's ok to get up. The owner doubtless learned this from a trainer, and Fred said it seems to work. I only met the dog briefly and was told he was "nervous," so I backed away immediately. He's not a particularly attractive dog, with a stub tail and pointed snout (most likely a cross between German shepherd and Rottweiler, is my guess. Well there's no accounting for taste in pets--otherwise why would there be teacup poodles and chihuahuas).

And it's only Tuesday. Last night we had a board meeting, attended by the bored. It ended in record time for me, since they went into Executive Session at 4:50. I didn't wait for the outcome, I wanted to get home. I need to take Tess to the vet but didn't get home early enough for that last night, and Weds. is dinner with Ken, which I can't postpone because Thursday night I'm having my hair highlighted. All this sounds as if my life is complicated, but it's really incredibly mundane and simple. I may make an appointment in Westport for Saturday morning (now, should that be "for Saturday morning in Westport?" which phrase goes first?) but that would mean missing out on more than 2 hours worth of the day. I'm embarrassed to admit that I have yet to finish closing the boat house, and Saturday is THE DAY I must do that. Come on, baby get your ass down there and do the 3 or 4 things that need to be done. As I've said, it wouldn't be closing the boat house unless it's 40 degrees and wet outside. My excuse last weekend was that the driveway was too slippery with snow for me to get back up it once I got down there (maybe true, maybe not) and I had to go to a reception for Bill in Plattsburgh, having been assigned the Designated Driver for Ken. Those are semi-valid excuses but they reek of procrastination.

The reception for Bill was very impressive--they've named an area in the Student Center after him--the William D. Laundry Suite, and the dedication was Sat. at 2:00. Ken got lots of attention and had his picture taken by a huge number of photographers. I stood in the background, sort of like an aide, with my hands behind my back. At one point during the speeches Ken started swaying a little bit and I wondered if he were going to sleep or about to collapse because he can't stand still for that long. Anyway it involved a lot of walking--a lot of walking, and walking with Ken is much like walking with an 18-month old, slow and methodical. Ken, it turns out, had been looking forward to a meal at Friendly's (grossout restaurant) so that's what we did at 3:30. Yucka pucka.

That would have sufficed, but when I got home Fred called and wanted to go out for our final outing of the season. I said I wouldn't be able to eat anything until 6, so then we went to a pub-type place in Wilmington where they serve alcohol and have ok food. As always, we enjoyed each other's company and had a nice time. Lots of laughter, good for the soul. He left Hawkeye Sunday night for his winter home in Plattsburgh, with great sadness and mourning.

So now what? I like playing with the data base so I'll probably do that first. The Lost Item Policy beckons, though, and it won't be long before the director asks for that. Be responsible, dear, be responsible.