Perhaps a better world is drawing near
To quote Jackson Browne, singer of the most depressing lyrics any of us have ever sung. But today I feel better. Maybe extend-release Wellbutrin is the way to go after all, raising the dose and changing the way you take it. yahoo. (don't we like the way ya-hoo has become yahoo, now that we all are so familiar with webspeak?) Anyway, today, in spite of the continuous rain, I feel better. I had to ride to work with Erdvilas, dropping him off at the place where they are fixing Linda's car (god help them, he wanted to witness the operation). He ranted and groaned ALL THE WAY in. I grasped the steering wheel harder and harder so that by time I got to Plattsburgh my knuckles were white. god, man, give it a break. We all hate Bush but some of us learn to control it. Anyway, I like the solitude of my ride to work and do not want to carpool. good to know, check.

Had a very pleasant time last night with a different group of people. Started off with Linda and Erdvilas (ok, not different people) who needed a ride home from Pbg. They gave me a quick drink while L and I sat in front of the fire, which was really nice, soothing and peaceful. I could do that for a long time. Then I rushed to feed the dogs and get to dinner reasonably (as opposed to fashionably) late. Had a nice time, good visit with people. They reported that the night before, they let their 12 year old black lab out in the evening and when she came back in she was really bouncy and energetic, wagging her tail. Ran into the living room, jumped on top of their company, licked and licked him, most unlike her (her name of course is Molly--as all black Labs are named). She was panting, seemed thirsty, so Emily called her into the brightly lit kitchen for a drink of water, where she turned out not to be black, or old, but chocolate and young and Tess. Turns out Tess has wanted to see the inside of that camp all summer long and leapt at the chance to get inside, I guess. Anyway, Molly wouldn't come inside until Tess went outside and Tess wouldn't go outside until Molly came inside so poor Emily, who knew Tess was mine, had to convince my dog to GO HOME.

And when I got home I found two very fat, very uncomfortable dogs loose in the living room. Tess was safely locked in her cage but Jackson and Chances had eaten at least 15 pounds of dog food (and this is not the cheap stuff, either). They were so fat they were grunting and groaning. Chances lay at my feet and whined, something she never does. I contemplated making her throw up, but it was raining and I didn't feel like going on vomit patrol in the dark so I let her suffer. This morning they were still very very fat. Jackson looks like a Sudanese refugee, he's so long and lanky but then there's this huge swollen belly. Tess had milk bones for breakfast, like eating circus peanuts to a human. I gave C & J each 3 small milk bones as a token gesture. If I had no dogs, what would I do for entertainment? Television is one dimensional and is based on other peoples' lives.

Tonight, wonder of wonders, I will dine alone at home. I can't wait. If I had a fireplace it would be nice but I'll cuddle up on my couch and watch mindless Law and Order reruns (although they're now showing CSI reruns at 7 & 8--oh goody!). And, for the Italians, the new series starring Joey Trebiani starts tonight. Got a terrible review in the Washington Post online but I'll give it a shot.

So Frances is now raining down on us. Tomorrow we're supposed to see some sun in the afternoon, and Saturday is supposed to be a nice September day. The trees are turning quickly. colors, that is. I think we'll have good color this year, lots of rain. I need to get out into the bushes and do lots of blackberry picking. The people last night said they had picked everything already but I wonder if they know my spots. I'll be disappointed if they do. They leave on Saturday and there will be more to the crop, but they've picked enough for 2 pies already.

Tomorrow and Saturday nights will be spent with Linda and Erdvilas, they leave on Monday. Jenica may come--hurray! Haven't seen her in a while, and we had such a great fall last year. I love September here, it's truly a wonderful time. I have to call the wood lady tonight to see when she can deliver another 4 cords for my Wood Olympics. I'll need to alert Martha so she can come be my judge.

So I'm killing a few minutes before quittin' time, watching the dogs at http://adirondackpetlodge.com, and the dog in, I think, the Gore Mtn. suite first stands facing one way, showing only its butt to the camera. Then it walks all the way across the room to the other side, standing just so that you can only see its butt. Then it walks back again to the original side, standing just so that you can only see its butt. Does it do this all day? I move on to the next suite, where there's a Rottweiler or something, standing under the camera the same way in reverse: so that you can only see the FRONT part of it's body, not its butt. But it's playing statue and does not walk across the room in reverse, which would complete the entertainment portion of my day. I'm easily entertained.

But the candy corn has to be the kind that has brown on the bottom, not yellow.

After reading Jenica's blog I rethought my plans for blog entry. I was thinking of revealing my darkness, the thoughts of my psychiatrist this morning, our plans for my immediate future. But now I'll keep that to myself--I can solve my problems, I have his help and support, and it's a project that he and I are working on together. I said I don't really care about anything anymore. There was only a brief while that I cared that I survived my accident, the rest of the time it didn't really matter to me. He said that one of my reasons for living had died, one of the sources of great joy in my life was gone. That's certainly true. Other people have spouses, children, etc., which give them reasons to keep on going. I have a sibling I adore, a mother I'm devoted to, nieces and a nephew I love dearly, sister and brother in law I treasure, and lots and lots of dedicated friends. But I have no one to devote my life to, no one to throw myself in front of a truck for. Henry wasn't that person for me (thank goodness, I hear you all saying), but he was an integral part of the conglomerate that makes up my reason for living. So now I'm on the plateau of blandness that is my life for now. I don't care about much. Sure, I love autumn, the leaves are turning and the trees are starting to be very pretty. I'm trying to see the beauty. I had a lovely time sitting on the dock with my dogs, laughing at the chair and its contents slowly sinking into the water. I can laugh at things, but my humor isn't what it used to be. Dr. Rubin says this is probably temporary. WELL LET'S HOPE SO--I used to be a very funny person! I'd hate to not be her again. I miss me.

So in spite of my weak attempt NOT to repeat Jenica's blog, there I went, being dark. Oops. Well, I spent an hour probing my psyche, what do you expect? It was interesting to hear my psychiatrist describe what I'm usually like, though, I loved that. He said there is usually a spark in me, an ability to find humor in all situations and to laugh, but that is missing right now. We're teetering on the brink of a major depression, but we have ways to avoid it, not to worry. So I went to the drug store to get my thyroid medicine and my cholesterol medicine, and there was candy corn. My version of Jenica's circus peanuts, it turns out. I bought a bag of candy corn, a can of mixed nuts (thank you Molly) and a can of Starbucks' double shot espresso. And back to work I went, to work at breakneck speed doing the work of all 3 people in my department, since one clerk is on vacation and the other is out today because her aunt died. Zippity do did I ever unpack and check in those 12 boxes of books.

And the car saga continues. For those of you who missed it, the dealer did indeed deliver my new car on Friday, as promised, but it was not the color I ordered. Whether this was intentional, or an accident (as claimed), we'll never know. I looked at the car for 2 hours (after sending the drivers back to NH, too late to take the car with them), trying to decided if I could stand the baby-shit brown interior. The exterior was a champagne color, really quite nice, that I would have liked ultimately, but I could NOT stand the interior. So I called the dealer and said I didn't want the car. They offered me $200 to keep it. TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS. Fie! I said. Not enough to make me keep that car. So I left it at a friend's house in Plattsburgh and they picked it up on Saturday. They are looking for the right color (Magnesium--a dark metallic gray, with gray interior, which does NOT show every single paw print) and are delivering a loaner car to me today. The drivers left NH at 8:15 this morning, it's now nearly 1 and they have not covered the 150 miles to get here yet. Give me a break. I have no idea what they'll "lend" me but I have to turn in the Prius today. Oops, wait, they just got here, with a 2004 Accord LX, navy blue. Wow, they must really feel bad. I called the head sales guy up yesterday and yelled at him because no one called me from Friday to Tuesday to tell me what was going on. So this is their way of soothing me. Expensive cars always make people feel better, apparently. This one costs $20,000. Big whoop.

Tonight I'm having dinner out for the 3rd night in a row, the 6th time in 8 days. I love all these people, and each night is a treat, visiting with them (not to mention the food), but I do need to get on with my life. Tonight is people renting the camp below my house, she's a little older than I am and he's quite a bit older. Ken will be there, Bill will, and another friend whose husband died this winter. I haven't seen her if a few weeks so that will be nice. Last night I ate with the cousins. Cousin John, after who knows how many glasses of vodka, while we were watching the news on the hostage-killing in Russia said (oh-so-wisely) "Saddam used to do that all the time when he was in power." To which his son said, "He didn't just go into schools and kill people." I kept my mouth shut, but it seemed there was a glimmer of hope that maybe son Johnny is not a staunch Bush supporter after all. Or maybe I'm dreaming. But I mean really: how do you get from Checynian terrorists to Saddam Hussein? And how did John get to be on a first-name basis with him, anyway? What's up with that? So then we watched Jeopardy, always fun to do with your relatives, and cruised on into Last Comic Standing, during which I went home. They're nice people, aside from John's insistence on making grandiose asshole statements about what should be done with camp. And dinner was very good.

And now I must dive into the world of collection development, since I'm doing a workshop on Monday for our member library directors and staff on adult collection development. No, that's not developing adults, it's developing adult collections in small public libraries with no real book budgets. And I have to explain to them why you DON'T keep every single book and video that someone hands you as a donation. They won't like that concept at all. Someone else is doing the part on development and maintenance of juvenile collections. I only have to kill an hour, then we'll do a joint portion. I've done this so many times in the last 20 years I just have to pull my thoughts together, make up some acronyms they can remember, and off I go. But the director decided she wants to get involved in it (WHAT?) so I have to at least have some notes and something to hand out, and an outline by tomorrow, when she wants to meet with us. Rats.

So when I did spell check of this, it wanted to correct "Jenica's" to "geniuses." That seems appropriate, don't you think?

It's a charmed life, and I can't complain. I'm back at work, not minding particularly (although it's time for me to start cataloging, and we all know that will lead to moans and groans, both from my body and my mind). I had a nice weekend, 3 days off to separate myself from Plattsburgh and reality. Friday night I had a late dinner with a favorite cousin, one who has been so nice to me over the past 9 years (NINE years!) since my ex-husband decided he didn't want to be married anymore. Bill, the cousin, has been a wonderful friend, source of support, lots of fun, and is really a nice, nice person. And when my brother died he was crushed, because he really admired my brother and it's been really hard for him to accept this loss but he's been so nice to me about it all. Anyway, Bill has a great, new wife and the cutest, happiest 2-year-old son in the family. So I had dinner with them at their camp and we had a nice visit. I got home sober and early, a nice change for me. I spent the night in the boat house, woke up to a disappointing morning but spent a long time lying in bed staring at the lake and the mountains anyway. Finally had to succumb to my full bladder and face the cousins in camp (in the kitchen: this will give you a clue as to who exactly was in camp). Saturday was supposed to be sunny and warm but was cloudy and cold instead, so I rebelled by staying in my living room and watching TV and doing nothing. I watched Richard Gere and Julia Roberts (Runaway Bride). Ken stopped by and agreed that it was a lousy day. Saturday night I went to Linda's for what was touted as a gourmet dinner. I had 4 invitations for dinner that night but had committed to Linda's, and was looking forward to this one too. We had 4 courses, with at least one bottle of wine for each course. There were 5 of us and I swear we drank at least 7 bottles of wine. It was fun to be with these people--they were friends of Linda's whom she had traveled in Europe with , renting villas in Tuscany one year and Provence another. They are great, lovely, funny, sweet and great company. They all really like each other and are very witty so I really enjoyed myself (not REALLY in the alcoholic sense, though I thoroughly enjoyed the wine). Dinner was also very, very good. Erdvilas was not so good. He does not like it when someone else gets attention, especially Linda's attention.

Sunday was sunny, though hazy, and I got up early enough to clean the living room and clear off the dinner table (miracle of miracles). Bill was gone for the weekend so I cooked Sunday dinner for Ken. I was all set to cook him massive quantities of shrimp, which were frozen and defrosting on the top of the stove while I took my shower. When I came down to check on their progress the bag was missing...gone and empty on the floor. Yes, my sweet Jackson, you are nothing if not resourceful. He ate at least a pound of shrimp, shells and all, and when I screamed "SHIT SHIT SHIT" at him he merely hung his head, put his ears back and wagged the tip of his tail. You can't really be angry at a 12 year old piece of shit dog you adopted, now can you? Anyway, luckily I had swordfish I'd inherited from the rich campers who wanted their freezer cleaned out by Ken, so I defrosted that and cooked it for him. He was happy enough. We had a nice, if subdued meal, which we ate in record time since we both, apparently, wanted to be doing other things. He was gone by 1:15, leaving me with plenty of time to head to camp to sit on the dock.

Just as I arrived at camp, so did a boatful of cousins and their kids. Bill and his wife Connie, their son Nicholas, plus Bill's sister's 3 kids all arrived to swim on our side of the lake. Just after that Bill's parents, brother (whom I haven't seen this year and like very much), sister and her husband all arrived. OK, too many people, but they're nice people. The other people left that morning. Johnny and Anne, brother and sister, set up folding chairs on the dock and looked just like their grandparents, sitting there surveying the world. Pretty funny. I had enough dock time with my dogs, then took a long nap in the boat house. Lucky girl, aren't I?

That night I went to Hot Dog Man for ice cream with Fred--the last night of the season, it closed the next day.

Yesterday was sunny and hot--YESYESYES. I got up early, sat on my deck and read for a while. The brown girls disappeared for three long hours, climbing the bluffs goodness knows how many times with goodness knows how many people. Lin came and we walked down to camp for a minute to retrieve her stuff from our book group gathering. She left and I went to the bog to get my dogs ("Do you own them?" people always ask me this, presumably because the dogs are not particularly happy to see me when I call them over to me. Yes, I do. "They're really nice dogs." Yes, they're very sociable.). So I took the brown girls to camp and we sat on the dock in the sun for a couple of hours. It was nice but a bit windy--rats! I missed the glassy morning, waiting for the dogs to return. I went for a swim, yes a swim. As I was standing in the water, the exhausted Tess (she and Chances were totally wiped out, leading me to believe they went to the top of the bluffs at least twice) crawled under my lounge chair, then stood up, knocking the chair and it's contents--my book, glasses, towel, shirt, soda, etc.--into the water. I watched the chair float while the book and everything else sort of sank. HONESTLY! THESE DOGS! Fortunately it was my book, not the library's, and only the edges got wet. It was The amazing adventures of Kavalier and Clay, which I'd just started reading again, having finished The mysteries of Pittsburgh that morning. I liked Pittsburgh very much. Anyway, again, I can't complain about my dogs, I encourage them to be goofy and idiosyncratic. She likes to lie under furniture and I don't keep her from doing it--it's just a strange thing to do on the dock, and really, she should know that you can't stand up under a chair.

Last night I went to dinner with Bill at some campers'--they're from California, small town in the Bay Area. Didn't know there were small towns in the Bay Area. Anyway, he's a children's author, she's a children's therapist. They're really nice and interesting and we had a very nice evening. I don't know them terribly well so it was fun to be with new people. Expanding the social circle. They met at camp as children, have been married a long time. Her brother owns the camp, it's just down the hill from my house. I've spent time with him before but have only dined with her one other time. Jackson adores them, visits their camp when he can. They think he should be their camp dog when they're in camp. I agree, offered to have him stay there any time. Let him eat THEIR shrimp.

And that brings me to the present. Got to work at 7:30, called my mother and had a nice talk with her. She wants to go to bed for 2 months and do nothing. It's hard to have nothing happen to you in the fall, after being a teacher for so many years. That plus having your wonderful son die is enough to send you to bed for a long time. I do feel lucky to have a job in the first place, but I also feel lucky because it gives my life focus and structure, helps me know what to expect from the day. That's very useful in the grieving process, I've found.

Later this week we're supposed to have Hurricane Frances visit us. Maybe 2" of rain. The reason we had such a wet and lousy (weather-wise) summer was that the jet stream got stalled, I heard this morning. They have to blame it on something. Tonight I'm having dinner with the cousins across the lake. What can I blame that on? Good manners, thank you mother.

It was 36 this morning--guess autumn is here at last. Very pretty morning but man is that cold. Jackson has taken off the last two mornings and will spend today again wandering the neighborhood. The weather is beautiful, sunny and clear, so who can blame him. He doesn't seem to get into much trouble.

My new car is supposed to be coming tomorrow. They'll deliver it to work. It's all pretty complicated, and yet simple. I'll sign all the paperwork when they deliver it, the salesman is setting up all the insurance stuff today, I think. I'll give them a check for the down payment,using the money I'll be getting from the insurance company (which I haven't received yet) and they'll hold the check until I tell them it's ok to cash it. Games, games games. I'm looking forward to having the whole thing settled. I enjoy driving the Toyota, but it does cost $2.50 a day, and I do need to get on with things. I want my own car.

Dinner last night with the Holts and some friends of theirs plus Ken. Friends of Annie's from medical school and their 2 kids. Their 15-year old daughter was hysterically funny, an anarchist who loves to argue about morality and the immorality of government, the uselessness of everything. She wants to live in a society that's based on morals--you know, like an Islamic nation. I tried, stupidly, to convince her that it would be hell for her as a woman, but she's 15 and reminded me of me at that age. The 2 kids go to a Friends school so have a unique outlook and education. She wanted to know what I like to read--she reads early Greeks, Spanish poetry in Spanish, plays, pretty much nothing published since around 1800. Needless to say we didn't have much literary discussion. Oh yeah, she has read Jorge Luis Borges. my god. The son sat next to Rush and looked at him the way Jackson looks at me when I eat food, just short of drooling. The kid adores Rush and hung on his every word. It was cute but even Rush got tired of it. "Rush, what do you think of.... Rush, what about.... Rush, do you know about..." All night long. Anyway we did have a nice evening. They're getting ready to start work on their garage, which is phase one of the building of their year-round house there.

I met with my union lawyer yesterday morning. This is action on my grievance against my director. My hearing is the 21st, so it's finally coming to pass. The lawyer is really good, I was impressed. He asked questions, got background, listened to my version of what happened, and really seemed to understand me. Told me what to mention, how to enhance my story, what we would be trying to do, and what might happen as a result of the arbitrator's decision. Basically we can't lose--she wrote a letter of reprimand without due process. Only an arbitrator has the authority to approve that. The arbitrator will either tell her she has to start all over again, or, maybe after determining that the letter she's written has no merit, turn the hearing into a hearing on the case itself. There won't be any disciplinary action as a result, just a letter in my file at worst, and the letter she has now has stuff in it that she has no proof of, just wandering accusations. He's going to subpoena Julie because there's one paragraph where she accuses me of trying to undermine the assessment process we were working on at the time by talking to Julie a lot and calling her on the phone. Julie will deny this, since it's not true. The letter is just a rambling bunch of crud.

Got a phone message last night from "Kathy." Want to join us for dinner? Took me a while to figure out it was Kathy Perry and that they are in camp. So much for my plans for having a quiet weekend in camp by myself. Surprise! Friday night I'm having dinner across the lake with Bill and Connie. Saturday I guess I'm going to the Holt's. Linda wants me to have dinner with her one night while her friends the gourmet cooks are there this weekend. eat eat eat. Not a way to lose weight.

Now on to catalog books for Willsboro. We were supposed to do a workshop of collection development on Tuesday but no one signed up to come so it's been postponed . YES! This means I might be able to go back to the chiropractor after all. I'm trying to go every week. I have muscle spasms that he's working on, plus other stuff. It's coming along. I also have to do a big adult book order today and tomorrow. Haven't been keeping up on that, am sort of out of the loop on what's hot these days. Get with it, lady!

You have a Lost Soul. No one is really sure what
that can always mean, because it can be defined
in many ways. As Legend goes, lost souls were
the spirits of passed away people who are
neither in heaven nor hell. They walk the
earth, brooding mysteriously, always appearing
when you expect it least. So hence, if you have
a Lost Soul, then you are probably very
insecure and shy. Stuck in your own little box,
you watch the world fly by as a loner. You dont
know your place. You seemingly dont have a
place in society or an interest. You are a very
capricious person, and are confused and
frustrated about where you belong. You crave
for the sense and feeling of home-but have not
obtained it yet.

What Kind of SOUL do you posses? (For Girls only) Incredible Anime Pictures!
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It all comes back to me now
After a nice, healing weekend of doing nothing much but sleeping, I had a bit of a mental setback on the way to work this morning. Reality check about my accident. It suddenly occurred to me that yes, really bad things could have happened to me. I could have died. So I start to cry. And though I've been saying and thinking that it was fortunate there wasn't a telephone pole or the river or a tree next to where I went off the road, now I'm really concentrating on that, and I know I want to live, I don't want to die. Lucky thing, huh. I don't confront danger seriously, and I don't worry about myself--Molly's blog reminded me of that. What's the point in worrying about yourself? This is truly convoluted: you SHOULD worry about yourself, it's the only thing you really have control over. I haven't been afraid to drive since my accident, but I have relieved the whole thing, remembered what it was like to roll over, the vision of the ground coming up on the left side and everything in the car flying all over the place. I don't remember being upside down, but that was a fraction of a second, then I was right-side up with a WHAM! So today I cried about something that was not the death of my brother--for the first time since April, so that was sort of refreshing. And I know how strongly I feel about surviving, which I did know before, but it's always good to affirm these things.

For those of us who travel a lot, our cars are like houses on wheels. I cleaned out the Prius over the weekend--it's not my home, just an apartment I'm renting. I had started to move in, and I don't want to do that. Plus, now that I know that things can become projectiles, I'm even more careful about what's in the car. Removed the bottles of wine I bought for Sunday dinner. Removed the wire dog cage I had in the back. But I like this apartment, it's got wall-to-wall carpeting, big screen TV, central air conditioning, electric heat and a good sound system.

I had a nice weekend, if you call recuperating a nice thing. I slept a lot, but Saturday night I went to the boat house and sat on the porch in candlelight, doing crossword puzzles for a long time, sipping Jenica's tequila. That was really nice. Sunday night I did the same thing, but I read Mysteries of Pittsburgh instead. It was ungodly hot and humid all weekend. Sunday morning the brown girls and I hung out on the dock in the semi-sun, enjoying ourselves immensely. In the afternoon I was home for a bit and it was 80 outside and 80 inside. Then it rained and after 2 hours the temperature had dropped 10 degrees. Amazing. The lake is a lot quieter now, not as many people there and it seems that almost everyone who has a jet-ski has gone home. yahoo!

And now I'm back at work, just got a call from the car salesman wanting to know if the deal is still on and what's up. Yes, it's still on, I'm waiting for the insurance company to send money (call home, send money). Let's get this thing going, shall we?

Friday afternoon and I'm tired. I've been answering the phone at home and at work all week. Well, at home it's mostly voice mail messages that I don't really answer. So much concern! At times like this I really am reminded that I have a lot of good people who know me and care about me. Calls last night from friends I've had here for many years. Calls today from member library directors who wanted to make sure I'm ok. Same thing yesterday. What nice people.

Book group met last night, all agreed we really did NOT like the book, sappy sweet romance, totally unrealistic. That's not why they didn't like it, but I realized that I don't like unrealistic books. You'd think that would mean I would read non-fiction, but no, I still prefer fiction. Next book is Michael Chabon's Mysteries of Pittsburgh. Turns out only the Lake Placid Library owns it, eveyone else either never bought it or threw it away. oops. Guess I'll have to buy it. We had a nice time last night, spent a lot of time talking about relationships, marriage, priorities. Sitting on the boat house porch in the evening, watching the moon rise as it got dark and we visited by candlelight. What a great place that really is. And what nice people are in that group. We really have fun together and I just love being part of a group like that.

Today I was late for work because all three dogs decided to check out the neighborhood for 45 min. or so. Ratful dogs. Tess came home with a huge wild apple in her mouth. Apparently Chances thought it was ok for her to carry it home, but she took it away from her in the living room and promptly ate it. slurp slurp.

I find myself feeling very sad as I drive these days. I wish I could tell my brother about my accident, and I wish he could comfort and console me. I'm not afraid to drive, but I'm very sad about it all. I bought a new car yesterday but am not at all excited. I think this is my 7th new car, maybe my 8th. I played 3 dealers off each other and settled for one in NH, never met the salesman only talked to him on the phone. They'll deliver the car on a flatbed, waiving the delivery charge (that was the dealbreaker, I told him). I have to do nothing, not even go to DMV to register it. I did the financing online and over the phone. They don't even have my signature yet. My insurance company is getting the title to my car in the mail, will cut a check to Honda Finance and give me the difference between the value of the car and what I owe (yes, I owe less than it's worth, a rare situation in my life). When it's all straightened out, hopefully mid-week, I can get my new car and get on with my life.

I'm still sore but am improving. I went to the chiropractor on Tuesday, have another appointment on Tuesday. He cracked my neck and I swore in surprise. Must learn to control that. Worked on my pressure points, told me I have problems with sacro-iliac (no shit--I can't sit comfortably for more than 1/2 an hour), my neck, shoulder and of course my carpal tunnel. Let's see what he can do.

It's supposed to rain all weekend. I can watch Bend it Like Beckham, Matchstick Men, The Triplets of Bellville (a friend told me the other night that Jackson is just like the dog in that one so I have to check it out). I should read and, god help me, straighten my house a bit. I can't mow my lawn if it rains.

You are the Aqua Marine Mermaid. You are pure and
brave. Strong and True. Your best freind is
your seahorse, your steed. You have fought many
battles in your own life and in the sea. No
matter what challenge you overcome it.
Congratulations there are very few of you.
Would you rate my quiz for I am brave too?

What kind of mermaid are you? (Gorgeous Pics)
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Of course it's no surprise that my best friend is my steed, and my steed is a seahorse. We had seahorses when we were kids, my sister and I. If we couldn't have real horses, my father thought we should try them instead. He was cute in that way.

Um...Dorian Gray? What the fuck is that? I guess I'll have to read that. And what, exactly is a dandy? It figures that I'd be something that a) no one has read and b) doesn't sound anything like me or anything about me. But oh well.

Since the article about my accident was in the paper my phone rang like crazy last night. I was out, went to dinner with great friends, plus Bill and Ken. I stopped by Ken's house on my way home and at last he was there. Unfortunately he heard of my accident from someone else before I had a chance to tell him--I hated for that to happen, seemed so unfair. Anyway, we had a drink together, I told him all the details, then said he knew more about it than anyone else. He took my face in his hands, kissed me on the lips and told me how much I mean to him. I felt better but still felt I had betrayed him by not making more of an effort to get in touch with him on Mond. or Tues. Oh well. Lin called me at the camp where I was having dinner--Jamie had called her to see how I was. Not knowing it would be in the paper, I hadn't told her about it yet. She was really worried (the paper said I complained of head pain--don't we all). He also called his parents, who called my mother. Since I hadn't told her the car rolled all the way over, she got upset. I called her at 7 this morning and reassured her. I said I was really lucky and that the car held up well. She said that SHE was really lucky. I can't disagree with that. We're all lucky, aren't we. This whole thing has been scary, sobering, emotional and I guess really awful for me, sinking in slowly. I got a call from (get this, Molly) Ricky Santor, voice from the past--daughter of the man who used to care for our grandfather. She wanted me to know that she has an extra bedroom and if I needed to move in with her she would take care of me. Now THAT is a nice person making a nice offer. We talk once every 2 or 3 years. I went to her mother's funeral a couple of years ago and see her in the grocery store every now and then. It was really sweet of her to call and we talked a long time. So today I feel lousy, am very sore and can barely turn my head. But the hunt for the perfect car at the perfect price continues. I have a lead on yet another dealer, a mega-dealer in New Hampshire that delivers cars to your doorstep and reputedly has prices that can't be beat. I have to call them today.

Jackson is on the prowl again. I heard reports from people last night that he showed up at a dinner party at the camp down the hill. They have a long porch and they were merrily eating dinner when they heard CLUMP, CLUMP, CLUMP as he mounted the stairs, then CLIP, CLIP, CLIP as the trotted across the porch, then his face appeared in the doorway. He'd been to the camp a couple of weeks ago when this woman's sister was staying there, scaring her 16 year old son as he scavenged outside the window at midnight, making Tom think he was a bear. My friend was one of the dinner guests and knew Jackson, so his presence was explained. Ah, the neighborhood dogs. He took off last night at midnight again, so I'm sure he went back down there. He's certainly cheerful these days, now that there are more people at the foot of the hill. New people come in to Ken's camp this weekend, can't wait till they meet him. They're very nice people, I've known them for several years but they've yet to meet Jackson.

Still warm but a bit hazy today. Humid. Where was this weather when my family was here? Today and tomorrow are due to be in the 80's. Of course Saturday it's supposed to rain. Linda and Erdvilas come on Saturday (time to put my drinking hat on). That will keep me entertained for the next two weeks. It's pug time!

Oscar Wilde: The Portrait of Dorian Gray. You are a
horror novel from the world of dandies, rich
pretty boys, art and aesthetics, and
intellectual debates between ethical people and
decadent pleasure-seekers. You value beauty and
pleasure but realize their dangers, as well.

Which literature classic are you?
brought to you by

So it's 3 in the afternoon and so far today I've been a busy girl. I found out I'm really 5'2", not 5'1". YAHOO! This is unbelievably cool for me. When you're this short every inch counts. I also got weighed and was extremely disappointed--too disappointed to report on that. I've gained weight this summer and must make a concerted effort to lose weight in the coming weeks. After that I had a bone density test done. They run a machine over your pelvis, back & forth about 50 times, then they do the same to your left hip. This is my baseline. There's evidence that use of Depo Provera contributes to a loss of bone density, and I used DP for treatment of endometriosis for nearly 2 years in 1982, but maybe that will prove to be inconsequential. I eat a lot of calcium pills every day so I'm thinking my bones are just fine.

After the bone thing I went to the Honda dealer in Burlington (since I was in B'ton already). Talked to the salesman who sold me my 1995 Civic (as opposed to the one who sold my my '02 Civic, who's been sending me cards and notes ever since, but whom I never really liked. Now Jay, Mr. 1995, I LIKE him, he's young and cute). Don't have to test drive the car because it's essentially the same vehicle as my other one. He gave me a good price. I said I'd think about it.

Came back to Plattsburgh, went to the Auto Barn to retrieve contents of trunk of my car. Met up with insurance adjustor there. He reported that they're totalling my car. There are tufts of grass and mud sticking out of the roof of my car. It is very depressing to look at it, even more depressing to clean it out. He advises me to "remove all personal contents of the car" as they will be moving it to a non-storage facility on Friday. This means, presumably, it will be crushed. The frame has been bent and it cannot be saved. I take out all I want from it, leave the facility in tears. My brother died, I wrecked my car. I feel little emotion these days. One therapist I had told me that people in the mental health field view all single occupant accidents as potential suicides. Mine was NOT, really NOT an attempted suicide. Rather, it was sloppy driving due to inattentiveness. I looked away from the road and looked back to discover my right tires were on the gravel shoulder. Slammed on the brakes and did a 180, then rolled over (but only once, I believe). Anyway, that car is history.

Went to the Honda dealer in Plattsburgh, played the game of "The Automaster gave me this price, what can you do?" Well, we certainly don't want you buying your car from them. They quoted me a price that's $50 higher. What the fuck is that about? So then I said I didn't like the tires that come with the car and I want Hakapalitas, what kind of deal can they give me on those? "Nothing is free," she laughs. Screw you, I want to say. I get a discount of $40 per tire, plus some other nebulous deal. And a lecture on what they must do with the tires that come with the car, which I tune out completely. I do not want to buy a car from this woman, but I will if it works out. I like Jay better, he's much more professional and sells BMW's, Land Rovers and Mercedes Benz's as well. He gave me no crap about maybe he couldn't get me the color I wanted (Magnesium). She said it might be hard to get the color I wanted, until I told her about The Automaster. Then all of a sudden it wasn't so hard to find one.

Now I'm at work, eating up the end of the day by blogging. The union strife is on fire but I missed most of it this morning. Board agrees (apparently) to our approval of their proposal (did they forget that it was THEIR proposal?). Details to follow. This does not really satisfy the members. I'm sick of it all, glad I wasn't here this morning when everyone was tooling around the building like pull-toys on wheels.

It's a beautiful day. I played with the touch-screen computer in my rented Toy Car all the way to Burlington and back. I now know how to program the radio stations (you can put stations in different categories and run through screen after screen of category--Inform, R & B, Jazz, Rock, etc. If only we had 6 stations in each category, which is the number you can pre-program) and am very good at setting the temperature, volume and changing tracks on CD's from the steering wheel. Starting it is tricky, there's a lag while the battery decides what is the ideal time to charge enough to turn over the engine. I can't imagine that this battery would function at -30 degrees, but this car is a lot of fun.

Encounter number 2 with kind, cute young guy came yesterday at the car rental place. I went to pick up my chaeap but not cheapest car and it wasn't there, so the guy, feeling sorry for me for what I'd been through ("If I'd just rolled my car a few hours ago I sure wouldn't be in as good shape as you are right now"), decided to give me a free upgrade and gave me a 2004 Toyota Prius. It's a hybrid, half electric and half gasoline engine. What a great toy. It looks really wierd and thus is hard to find, waiting list of several months to buy one. It's a 4-door, has plenty of room. Has a small screen on the dash, like Kristen's car, but this one has a number of displayable screens. What displays most of the time is an energy monitor, so you can tell which source of energy is being use and when the battery is being charged. The engine is so quiet you can't tell if it's running or not, and when it idles it's noiseless, running off the battery. To start it you push a button on the dashboard. The key is a 1 X 2 inch rectangle, inserted into the dash, the gearshift a knob on the dashboard. You have 3 choices, Drive, Reverse (which makes the car beep like a construction vehicle the entire time it's in reverse) and "B", which which I am not yet familiar. Park is a button on the dashboard. The display on the dash is about 1.5" high, just below the windshield, and everything is digital. On the steering column are buttons to set the temperature of the interior, a button to select the track of the CD player, volume controls of the stereo and a button for the air-conditioner. This car is way cool and if I could have 2 cars this would be one of them. It wouldn't be good for winter, though, because you couldn't rock it when it got stuck in the snow, as it inevitably would when I drove it in my driveway. Plus I think they cost at least $23,000. Out of my range. The power of this machine is most impressive and the soundlessness of it mind-boggling. It drives like a dream. So my accident wasn't all bad.

I went to see my car last night, to collect my goods. There were Diet Coke cans all over the back seat and floor. They were projectiles, having come loose from the 2 cartons they were in. Why wasn't I hit in the head with one? Dumb luck. Most of them were empty. Lots of my CD's were broken. Why wasn't I cut with one of them, projectiles that they became? Dumb luck. Ken's boots were fine, and are now ready for me to mail to LL Bean. The change I had collected in my cup holders was scattered all over the car. My long-lost ATM card had been deposited neatly in the door, along with my prescription sunglasses, whew! The car looks horrible and the body shop guy has declared it totalled. If the adjuster agrees I have to buy a new car. Then I'll have to decided whether to buy a new car or talk to cousin Cameron about getting a late model car with low mileage. Either way it will cost me money I do not have. But, as everyone (EVERYONE) has told me: I'm lucky. Now, really, folks, if I were lucky I'd be driving a 2002 silver Honda Civic in need of an oil change with Hakapalita tires on it.

So I'm sore today but not as sore as I expected to be. Have been shovelling Motrin 800's into my mouth as often as I can. Went to the chiropractor for scheduled appointment this morning. He cracked my neck, told me my sacro-iliac joints are messed up (yes, I knew that), I have carpal tunnel (yes, I knew that) and that my shoulders are tight (yes, I knew that) but that he'll be happy to help me with all of these things. It's the sacro-iliac I'm looking forward to fixing, and the neck problem I have when I'm at work. I can't sit comfortably for more than 1/2 an hour, which makes the drive to RI really nasty. He can make that better. My neck already feels better, so maybe I can catalog something boring this afternoon.

Sunny and warm this afternoon, as it's supposed to be all week. I'm really only interested in what it's supposed to be like Saturday (80 and sunny). And I really hate to look forward to the future like that, makes me feel as if I'm wishing my life away. I had the best night last night, totally validated my favorite way of spending an evening: encased in a comforter on the couch with 2 dogs (the smallest one in a constant quest for the best position under the comforter, nudging me and the other dog to make room) while watching tv and doing crossword puzzle after crossword puzzle. It was curative. I need a wider couch, though, that one's not good for 2 dogs and a human. Chances refuses to budge an inch for Tess and Tess does not give up easily. Tonight I need to mow the lawn. Blech.

DECEMBER:Loyal and generous. [Sexy]. Patriotic. Active in [games] and interactions. Impatient and hasty. [Ambitious]. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. [Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention]. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. [Changing personality]. Not egoistic. [Take high pride in oneself]. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

I couldn't use the strike feature so I put all the ones that don't apply in brackets. Sure, I'm patriotic, but not like the Bush family. I love my country but not because it's America, I love it because of all it allows me to have and to be, and because of where I live--guess I love the countryside as much as anything else. And am I really logical? I really question that one. My influence in organizations is something I always marvel at, but people do what I suggest and follow my lead, consistently.

I had such a good, positive thing going on this morning. Got organized, ready for work, left early, making good time, zipping right along and WHAM! hit the gravel along the shoulder, lost control of the car, spun 180 degrees, rolled the car down an embankment and ended up in a ditch on someone's lawn. Squealing tires, rolling in slow motion, blown out windows, debris all over the place, seatbelt bruise, headache & goose egg, bruised collarbone, ambulance ride to emergency room--the whole bit. I don't know if the car is totalled, but this is truly not what I need to have happen in my life right now. I can't tell you how many people have told me how lucky I am so far today. Yes, I'm lucky I wasn't hurt, or killed ( you should see the car). But no, I'm not lucky this happened to me. I need my car and I can't afford to buy a new one. Now I have to get a rental car (the insurance company gives me $25 a day for a rental: know what that gets you? shit! that's what), go to where my car's been towed and collect the amazing amount of shit that was in it and was tumbled all over the place when it rolled. 48 cans of Diet Coke, Ken's LL Bean boots that I promised to mail to be repaired, my soy milk, my Hawkeye Conservationists papers to work on today, my ATM card that I just found this morning in the car, my CD's, which were strewn all over the lawn when they flew out the rear window after it was smashed. There's really something fundamentally depressing about looking at your car after you've been in an accident in it. Especially when the damage is this severe.

But my weekend was nice, let's focus on that! Yesterday was a perfect early fall day. 40 in the morning when I got up, but warm sun made a big difference. At noon I went down to camp to sun on the dock with the brown girls. They loved it, I loved it. The lake was glassy but there were a few inconsiderate boats wanting to come oh-so-close to the dock to check it out. I left in late afternoon to get ready for a night out with Ken and the girls decided to go up the bluffs with some very fat strangers (Sorry about my dogs--"Oh no, thank you for them, it was great to have them along." Well, they do that once in a while, just follow people up the trail. "We loved having them with us." OK. duh). Anyway, Ken and I went to Steinhoff's and had a really nice meal and great visit, using up the $50 gift certificate he got. He was tickled to go out and not have to pay for it and the restaurant was quiet enough that we could actually converse.

Saturday I spent with fellow lakers--Executive Board meeting in the morning, annual meeting in the afternoon. It poured in the morning but was sort of sunny in the afternoon. The tax assessor was our guest speaker and he really is a nice man who defends his job and decisions very well. The group was nice to him but did want some very specific answers. It went well but was, unfortunately a small group. Ken said he was glad he wasn't there because he would have picked a fight with him.

And now I'm at work, having spent 2 1/2 hours in the emergency room this morning and half ana hour on the phone with the insurance company, then more time catching up with email and trying to get myself to a point where I can actually concentrate on my job. And now I have to take time to get the rental car, then get out to the repair place to get to my car. But I have no one to blame but myself. The state trooper was an absolute dream and came to the hospital (to give me my ticket for Speed Not Reasonable and Prudent--since I put a digger in someone's lawn; if you damage someone's property you automatically get a ticket in this state), telling me that if this happens again, take my foot off the gas and DO NOT apply the brake. And of course telling me that I'm very lucky. But DO NOT apply the brake. Foot off gas, no brake. Yes officer. Good advice.

Ah, the end of the week. Hard to believe I've been back at work for only 5 days, it seems as if I never left. I've spent the week cataloging and weeding, both rewarding activities, if repetitious and a bit mundane. The weeding is a bit cheery: there's light at the end of the fiction tunnel, as I'm in the SCH's. The cataloging is not as cheery, as the demand keeps increasing and the material continues to amaze me. This week's batch wasn't so bad: children's books. Plenty of SpongeBob SquarePants stuff, which goes really quickly. Infinitely preferrable to old videos, especially when one considers that children will actually WANT to read these books.

I dreamed that Tom Cruise was hot for my body last night. Now what was THAT all about? I hadn't seen anything about Tom Cruise, nor had I seen him on any show or in any movie. Nor do I particularly fancy Tom Cruise. I love the human brain, especially when it's "at rest" (not that it ever rests). Anyway we were working in tandem to reach the top of some building (impossible heights) and he was carrying me up the wall. What, am I climbing the walls here? A metaphor? The past two days are the first of this week that I have felt remotely normal and relaxed, actually enjoying myself and feeling happy to be at home with my dogs. Yes, they need more than I give them right now, but they're loving and sweet and relatively content with our routine. Tess' bout with faux mange is a reaction to ragweed, according to the vet (did I already cover this?). She's taking Prednisone for a month. I rushed them all to the vet on Wednesday, carefully isolating Tess from others in the waiting room. Mange, for the unitiated, is a disgusting and highly contagious skin parasite that pets of spam-sucking trailer trash and wild animals get. My dogs had it once before, got it from a wild animal in the woods, apparently, since I am NOT SSTT. If it had been mange it would have meant a series of injections of an insecticide over a period of 9 weeks for all three dogs. Is this better or worse? A month of steroids for what will now become Super Dog, what may become an annual event (an will occur during each Summer Olympics, too). She's still scratching but not as much, I guess. Everyone here is suffering from sinus problems. The goldenrod is in full bloom and so, apparently is the ragweed. Personally I think people confuse the two.

This weekend the shoreowners' association meets at our camp. My cousins/former in-laws were kind and cleaned it in preparation (I'm the offical hostess, as I am the secretary and chairperson of the Hospitality Committee, and volunteered the site, as I do each August). What they found was mountains of garbage, a filthy living room and a dispan full of water and dirty dishes. The last people there just walked out and left it that way. What is wrong with people? What were they thinking? Anyway, my Saturday afternoon will be spent in the presence of other laker people, a group I enjoy being part of and am happy to count as my friends. It's supposed to rain, so at least I won't feel cheated out of a nice summer afternoon. And Sunday dinner is being postponed to an actual dinner hour, in the evening, so that Ken and I can use a gift certificate for a nice restaurant he was given for his 90th birthday celebration. He's eager to see if we can eat and drink up the whole $50 worth. I said the drinking part will be easy but eating that much will be harder for the two of us.

Today is warm and sunny, hard to be indoors where it's cold and flourescently lit. I turned on the small heater at my feet this morning--I'm just so tired of being cold all day in the air-conditioning that blows on my cubicle all day every day. The vent is just above my head, and since I'm stationary during much of the day, it really sucks. No, it blows.

I overheard some of the board's Executive Committee meeting with their attorney last night. What I heard was this: the union's behavior was REPREHENSIBLE. huh? Not sure what we did that was so bad, but am sure the attorney needed to justify her fees. We had written a letter to the board members directly, explaining our stand and our feelings, and this was referred to as a POISON PEN LETTER. again, huh? Just warming them up for my grievance hearing, which is coming up soon. I meet with my union attorney in two weeks, oh boy I can hardly wait.

I bought a small can of nuts this morning at the drug store when I went to pick up my prescription, thank you dear sister. "Just try buying a can like this the next time you're hungry and at a rest stop or convenience store--it's much better than junk food and fills you right up." Yes, older sisters are very helpful and wise. And I really enjoyed watching her pick up her can each night as we watched a movie, eating a nut or two until all that was left were the peanuts. They promise the can includes "not more than 50% peanuts." How do you suppose they measure that? Suppose they come across a bunch of peanuts that weigh less than the average? Then you get more.

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.

For the first time this summer I had the "Yeah, this is it" feeling, sitting on the dock yesterday with my dogs, reading a book in the sun. It was windy, not the perfect dock day, but it was nice, the waves lapping against the rocks. Tess likes sitting on my lap while I sit in my green telescope chair, which makes it hard to read, but I like having a dog who likes me that much. She also can see much better than Chances can, so she barks and barks at sailboats that are far away, then continues to bark at them as they get closer...and closer...and closer. Apparently she doesn't understand how they can move without making the noise that powerboats make.

I've been staying in the boat house, have camp to myself but don't use main camp at all and am enjoying it immensely. I use my house, the shower at camp, the porch of the boat house--all of it as much or as little as I want, with a schedule that I want. It's grand. I had a meeting of the Hawkeye Conservationists Sat. afternoon that was ok, only lasted 2 hours. Yesterday evening was Ken's big 90th birthday celebration, a huge party at Fred's camp. It should have been a big, happy occasion for me, but I was on shaky ground before I got there, having been embraced and consoled by a friend before going down there, thus reminded that my dear wonderful brother died. When I got there I was faced with more wonderful caring people who wanted me to know how sorry they were that my brother died, then Jim and Keela showed up, and somehow seeing Jim just really was too much for me. We hugged hard and I cried a lot. Poor Ken. He looked at me and said "You've been crying, haven't you." He hates it when I cry. I have great friends, though, who took great care of me there. Anyway, the party was nice and I think not EVERYONE noticed I was crying like a fool. After that I went home and napped before going to the boat house for the night. Stood in the moonlight for a long time talking to Elsa (she tried to talk me into going skinnydipping with her but it was cold, too cold for me even if the water is warm). The motor isn't working but she's working on getting it fixed before the meeting on Saturday. Not my problem, I haven't even used it yet. As Jenica points out, it's not MY boat, it's CAMP'S boat.

So today I'm working in the morning (if you can call this work) and going to Placid in the afternoon to pick up my new glasses, then home to do whatever I feel like doing. Planting the last of the geraniums in the cemetery on the way home. Sitting on the dock if I want to. Then I have 2 weeks off. All I have to do is solve some union problems next week before I go to Rhode Island, put out a few fires hopefully. But my sister is coming this week and I get to be with her for a while, and Anna as well. And I'll get to see the Eldreds, probably my favorite cousins. They are really wonderful people and Cam is so caring and warm. Hopefully they'll spend the night.

The dogs have NOT been behaving well. They had a brief spell of being good but the other day they were delivered to me in a van by someone who was trying to drive down the road but couldn't because the dogs wouldn't move from in front of the van. Honestly! Yesterday the girls disappeared for 1.5 hours from the house and camp home soaking wet. Saturday they disappeared and Elsa discovered Tess playing with a Great Pyranees being walked down the road on a leash. It never ends. Jackson has been staying at the house by himself and seems quite happy with the arrangement. I love having 2 dogs with me and not listening to his incessant barking because he's not happy with what's going on or he IS happy with what's going on. It's a good arrangement.

I just had 2 days off, which felt great.  I got to spend time, relaxing time with my mother and Mark.  We laughed, we got organized, we worked in the cemetery, we hung out at camp.  It was really nice.  Just before they left we posed on the porch at camp and took our own picture, the three of us.  Who knows how it will turn out: our heads might be cut off, it was really hard to look through the viewfinder of the camera, propped up on a stool on the dinner table.  Funny, though.  Cousin Elsa finally made her son outrageously happy by getting gas to put in the motor boat, so he zoomed around the lake a few times, taking me for a nice ride, along with my 2 dogs (who did NOT think riding in a motor boat was a really cool thing to do).  He reminded me so much of myself, finding great solace and peace in flying around the lake in an old tin boat with a semi-fast motor, alone in the world, leaving a wake behind me.  I loved doing that, loved the perspective you get of the shore from the water.  I know that's one of the great things about fly-fishing, that you're in the water, participating in a totally different way.

I slept in Dockside, the small cabin that sits on the shore just at the water's edge.  The dogs adjust well to that and Chances trots right on down there at night when it's time for bed.  I love that cabin with its nest-like property.  It's small, built of wood that's aged beautifully, and has doors that open up to the world of the lake.  In the early morning the dogs bark agressively at the mergansers who are close to shore, making the ducks quack quack quack indignantly (yes, Jenica, they're still pooping on the dock, but only on the very end now).  I don't think they have a clue what they're barking at, but they sure do have a good time.

I woke at 2:00 last night and stared into the darkness, total darkness of the lake and mountains just beyond my bed.  I contemplated being bipolar, and the distinction between my personality and my mental illness.  This is something I often think of.  Where does one begin and the other end?  Is there any difference between the two?  It's complicated because I want people to always remember that I'm bipolar when they observe my behavior--it's queer behavior, and I can only do so much to control it.  I'm pumped full of chemicals and my brain has been altered a lot, but my neurons will always fire in a different pattern.  Then again, I want to be treated the same as everyone else because I don't want to be "different," I've struggled all my life with being a strange person that no one ever understood.  Well, no one does understand me and no one ever will (the only one who comes close is my psychiatrist, and that will probably always be true).  Maybe that's a good thing in life, to hold the key to yourself.  I don't know, it's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it.  Being intelligent is a lot of work.  Being bipolar is twelve times more work--you always struggle to keep your behavior under control, to monitor what you say, how you say it, what you do, what you think, how you feel.  You will never know what it feels like to be normal, to have normal emotions or feelings, to behave normally or even the way other peoplel do.  That's one of the most difficult things I face every day: what do other people feel?  How is it for normal people?

On a brighter note, my family (what's left of it) is preparing to gather soon.  This is a good thing, a wonderful thing I'm looking forward to.  I decided not to go to Rhode Island on Monday, as I had thought I might.  I have too much to do here, and too many people to see here, so I will stay at home for part of my vacation and take advantage of what the Adirondacks has to offer me.  There is a party for Ken on Sunday evening, celebrating his 90th birthday.  It will be really nice, even if his son from Penn. is planning to come (we don't like Carl, he's never around and doesn't really understand Ken or his lifestyle).  Saturday afternoon will be spent with the Hawkeye Conservationists, first a presentation by the director of the Adirondack Council, then a meeting then a social hour.  I have to make something with blueberries to take to the group.  Martha Stewart has a nice recipe for blueberry shortbread in this month's issue of her magazine and I think I'll try it.  Must take advantage of her while we still can.

And now I should move along to the data base training module that I'm supposed to be working on.  I've put it off for months and am supposed to have it finished before I leave for vacation.  Since tomorrow's my last day it's time to be productive.  My thoughts are with the people in the Midwest, hoping the visit to the doctor tomorrow will bring some resolution to this and maybe even some new information and/or treatment.  It must be so hard not knowing what sort of day you're going to have each morning when you get up.  I hope things improve for Kristen--you're in my thoughts all the time.

Now that I've completed cataloging an entire set of Jackie Chan's earlier works (in Cantonese with American subtitles) for the Schroon Lake library I can take some time off and blog.  I'm excited that there are so many bloggers covering the Democratic convention.  I think this is really revolutionary in the media in America right now, and a grand way for us to keep up with what's happening.  I want to take a television down to camp, where my mother and her friend are visiting for a few days, to hear the speeches.  Liza doesn't want a tv there but Mark is interested so I'm not sure how it will go.  Mostly I want to hear the keynote speech and I'd like to hear Kerry's acceptance speech on Wednesday.  Since we may go to Potsdam either of those days it's unlikely I'll hear them both anyway so the point is probably mute (as they say here).

I'm off for two days, tomorrow and Weds.  This feels quite strange, having time off in the middle of the week.  I was busy today, getting ready to be gone, plus reminding myself that I'm scheduled to be on vacation for two weeks starting a week from today.  Who knows what my plans will be, though.  Doesn't look as if I'll be flying to Cleveland so I'm thinking of other options.  Stay here and build my deck with Ken.  Go to Rhode Island for a few days before the Rogers meeting.  I'd fly to Cleveland and meet my friend Priscilla there but I don't have a flight back scheduled until mid-August so there I'd be, sans transportation home.

Jenica set me up for a great weekend with her friends.  Thursday she and Drew arrived during the day, I saw them for just a minute.  Friday night I had dinner with camp friends, Bill and Ken, a nice time since their sons were there.  One son is in music school, learning how to be an opera singer; the other is doing his chiropractic internship and is a fountain of information about the human body.  We had a really nice evening.  Saturday I hung out at home a bit and went to camp in the afternoon to mingle with the young 'uns.  They're really a nice group of people and I completely enjoy being with them.  It got really windy on the dock, so in spite of the warm sun it was very cold.  The water is warm, 75 degrees supposedly, so Sarahanne and I swam (my first of the season, she said without embarrassment).  Tess is quite the swimmer and jumps off the dock with glee.  I went home to mow the lawn, was interrupted by the people I dined with Friday night, who arrived to stack the 3.5 cords of wood I had.  YAHOO!  This was a fantastic help to me and we set up a chain to get it done.  It took about 1.5 hours, even with that many people doing it.  Imagine how long it would have taken lowly me.  Now it's all done and is grand to see.  After they left I finished mowing the lawn--my outdoor domestic chores are done, except for weeding, which I barely started doing.  I did a tiny bit of indoor cleaning but the dogs did more paper shredding and other messing up to keep up with whatever paltry attempts I made at cleaning.

I went to camp for dinner with Jen & friends, then stayed for a game of Trivial Pursuit.  They are good, very good.  It's fun to compare their depth and breadth of knowledge with mine.  I've certainly lost a lot of pieces of information over the years.  Anyway, they are all very intelligent, charming and witty and we laughed a lot.  I really enjoyed myself.  And they are wonderful to my dogs, incredibly tolerant and loving, which scores total huge points.  Sunday morning the dogs escaped and went straight to camp.  Jackson and Chances returned to me, but those guys thought it was Jackson they saw swimming in circles in front of the next camp down so they gamely paddled out to rescue him.  It was the neighbors' yellow Lab, known for his swimming disorder and insane behavior, but I thought it was so sweet of them to go to such lengths to rescue my dog.  Tess spent the morning with them, swimming and visiting.  They treat her much better than I do, apparently.

I had Sunday dinner with Bill, Ken, and a Plattsburgh State graduate who was visiting from Long Island.  He felt like taking a long ride on his BMW motorcycle so he came up for a night.  I've spent time with him before so it was a nice, companionable visit.  He loved Chances and wanted to take her home with him but Ken thought that since he had no helmet for her it wouldn't be appropriate for her to ride on his bike.  I do have wonderful dogs, this is true.  They are very, very sweet.

Sunday afternoon I returned to camp, made Liza's and Mark's beds and spent a little time on the boat house porch, reading and listening to the water lapping.  Dozed a bit, then they arrived.  Liza isn't feeling too well but is happy to be in the Adirondacks.  Jenica returned from her trip to Burlington to deliver Tamara and Jonathan to their plane and had dinner with us, then left for home.  I stayed to visit with Liza and Mark, then went home myself.  The lake was like glass.  The mergansers who had taken up residence on the dock weren't there last night, though they were there when Jenica and friends were staying in the boat house.  Elsa says as soon as Ben puts in their float the ducks will move over there.  She's right.  The heron spends plenty of time in our bay.  The lilies aren't in bloom but seem to be doing ok.  Jim put a new toilet in main camp, at last.  Life goes on.

FOR A DANCER 
Keep a fire burning in your eye
Pay attention to the open sky
You never know what will be coming down
I don't remember losing track of you
You were always dancing in and out of view
I must've always thought you'd be around
Always keeping things real by playing the clown
Now you're nowhere to be found 

I don't know what happens when people die
Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try
It's like a song playing right in my ear
That I can't singI can't help listening 
I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round
Crying as they ease you down
'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing
Dancing our sorrow away(Right on dancing)
No matter what fate chooses to play
(There's nothing you can do about it anyway) 
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone

 Keep a fire for the human race
And let your prayers go drifting into space
You never know will be coming down
Perhaps a better world is drawing near
And just as easily, it could all disappear
Along with whatever meaning you might have found
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around
(The world keeps turning around and around)
Go on and make a joyful sound

 Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive and the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive but you'll never know 

(c) 1974 SWALLOW TURN MUSIC

Well no one can accuse Jackson Browne of being too perky, now can they.  I took out the Late for the Sky CD yesterday to listen to something different on the way home from work.  I was doing fine until the song After the Deluge came on.  I always loved that song and it never made me cry before, but something about it really got to me.  Maybe it's because I feel life on the planet is so tenuous in general these days.  I've felt that way since I was 8 years old, so maybe I'm just getting more and more cautious about the future, or maybe I'm just resigned to thinking that there may just not BE a future after all.  I don't know.  Anway, certainly Jackson Browne has nice music, but certainly it is sad, tragic, depressing--especially that stuff from the '70's, when his wife committed suicide.  So today on the way to work I listened to early Springsteen, a big improvement mood-wise.

We're having a heat wave, not a tropical heat wave, just an Adirondack version of one.  Temps in the 80's and humid.  Jenica is here and went swimming yesterday.  Reported that it felt great and she can't believe I haven't been in yet.  She's right, it would have made sense for me to have been in by now but I haven't been motivated, I haven't spent that much time at camp, and the weekends haven't been that nice.  I stayed at camp on Weds. night--it was warm, it was my last chance to be in the boat house for a while, and it just seemed like a nice thing to be able to do.  It was nice, very peaceful.

Busy week for my social life.  Book group met Weds. night but I had forgotten that and set something up with Ken so had to skip it.  The book wasn't that good and it turned out that no one really liked it, although according to Lin they had a good discussion (we always do).  I had a nice evening with Ken but it was hot at his house, even sitting on his porch.  Last night I did pretty much nothing.  Stopped by camp for a minute to see Jenica before she and Drew left for Burlington to pick up Tamara.  I was watching tv when Sarahanne and John came to my house, desperate in their search for camp.  I was impressed that they knew to find my house.  It was good to see them.  I sent them on their way (I hope).  The dogs were so thrilled to see them, I always think it's funny to watch their reaction to the arrival of people, especially in the dark of night.  First suspicion, but then always joy and great excitement.

Too much excitement, though, when I finally went to bed at 2 it turned out that Chances had peed a huge puddle in the middle of the bed.  Man was I mad.  I smacked her, which I never, ever do.  She hid under the table in shame (not pain, I would never hit a dog hard enough to hurt her).  I had to change the bed, soak the futon with the odor/stain remover, cover it all with towels then try to get to sleep smelling the alcohol of that.  She even peed on the pillow but did manage to miss the comforter this time, luckily.  Honestly, I don't know what it is with this dog.  This morning Jackson pushed the door to the bedroom open so Chances got into the kitchen, got the new jar of peanut butter off the counter and managed to eat HALF of it before I got up to take it away from her.  Burp.  At least her coat should be shiny and her cholesterol low.

I had my performance characteristics done by the director (with whom I'm in the middle of a grievance right now, dragging on since November).  She did a good job of saying nice and positive things about me.  She searched for negative things, could only come up with "you could make better use of a calendar"--a huge flaw in herself, and "sometimes when you work on a project you do it too quickly and don't think it through all the way," not true of me really but definitely true of her.  I disputed neither of these, figuring I was getting of lightly, as she could accuse me of all the things she has in the past (the things I've filed my grievance about).  This document goes in my personnel file and will be good fodder for the grievance, since she says such good things about me that contradict the memo she wrote that I'm grieving.  Let's hope she retires in February, as she's told countless people outside our building that she's planning to.

And now I have 1.5 hours until the weekend.  Must stop to get food for Liza and Mark's dinner Sunday night, plus something for them to eat on Monday, then home quickly before going to dinner with the people I had dinner with earlier in the week.  Tomorrow morning I hope to mow the lawn.  No, really.

My life is rated NC-17.
What is your life rated?

Well that's pretty tame, if you ask me.

It's finally summer here, without being extreme. Sunny, warm and very nice. I took the dogs to the vet on Monday night--took the boy on Saturday for $100 to pronounce him healthy and wise. He's cured of whatever his problem was and is just fine. Monday was girls' night and the two behaved very well. Chances has lost 9 pounds, much to the delight of all in the office. Tess only weighs 45 pounds, which surprised me. She was the belle of the ball. I saw my friends the Guckers there, whom I haven't seen in a few years. The joy of going to the Keeseville office is that you never know who you might see there. It was a real joy to see them, we used to spend a lot of time together and Robin was a great source of support and love during my dark, dark days in the mid-90's. I waited for their appointment to end--their young golden retriever has what might be giardia (beaver fever) from drinking out of streams while they've been hiking in the wilderness. Who knew dogs could get this? Anyway, we went out for dinner afterwards and had a really nice time. So good to see them again.

I've done review of performance characteristics for both of my staff members with the director--we sit in her office, the staff member, the director and I and I review what I've already told them and what I've written about them. It seems pretty stupid and repetitious to mee but I asked them about it afterwards and they liked it so I guess that's the format that works. Today I get my performance characteristcs done by the director (like having your palm read by an evil prophesisit), which makes me extremely nervous. She's not to be trusted so I'm prepared for the worst. This is the first time we've ever done anything like this at the library so it's all uncharted territory and could go either way. I only said GOOD things about my staff, hoping to set a good example, and have checked with other supervisors--they did the same.

Last night I went to the cemetery to see Henry's headstone. I thought it would be very emotional and a deep experience for me but it really meant very little. It's just his name in stone. I dug a spot for them to put it permanently and will call them today telling them that. It's just sitting on the grass by the big monument right now. I also, finally, planted all the geraniums (22 of them) that I've had at the house. The blossoms have been rotting from all the rain we've had and the plants look pretty scrawny so it's not exactly a beautiful showing for the crowd that will show up in August. Maybe Mark and Liza can jazz it up next week. I took Chances and Tess and the ran and ran and ran. Boy did they run--as far away as they could in that cemetery, which is pretty far in that place.

After the cemetery I went to visit the Camerons, who are renting Bill's camp (formerly Ken's camp). This is the man who took a course from Spaulding at Rockford College. They're here for 2 weeks, come every year and love to have Ken and me come as often as possible for dinner. I missed dinner (intentionally, wanted to get to the cemetery) but had a nice visit with them. We talked a lot about dog antics--not that many people you can spend an hour talking about that with, are there.

I didn't really have a good weekend, spent too much time sleeping. I always get nervous about that, take it as a sign of depression. I find no comfort when people say "you must have needed it," since I rarely do anything to exert myself. I don't get much sleep during the week, though. Saturday it poured and poured, but cleared up enough for us to sit around the camp fire at Linda's one last time before she left on Sunday. Then we had a nice dinner and of course the obligatory alcohol--whiskey, wine, scotch, rum. boom, boom, boom. All in moderation, thank god. Sunday we had a nice Sunday dinner with Fred and Joe (Ken's nephew, who travels all over the world with his job, much the way Henry used to but even more) so it was more festive than usual. Then I went home and slept all afternoon. This was after having slept most of the morning in the boat house, watching the mountains emerge from the morning haze. At least I stacked firewood for half an hour in the evening. Phil Cameron has offered the services of his two grown sons and himself to stack my 4 cords (now 3.5 cords) this weekend. Although I really, really hate to have people help me with things, I'm toying with the idea of asking for their help. It would be so simple and would take no time at all for them to do it. It just seems so lazy to have someone else stack your firewood--it's your responsibility, after all. And I truly HATE having people do things for me. Truly.

I thought my book group met tonight but just called Lin and she's sure it's next week. Whew! First of all, I haven't quite finished the book (Zadie Smith, White Teeth), second of all I've double-booked tonight and am due to cook for Ken so can't go to book group. He's all excited about tonight and has bought special food just for the occasion (ok, so it's only macaroni salad and baked beans, but for him to do that is really a big deal), so I can't cancel him. He's psyched. We're having hamburgers and will enjoy a touch of the creature before dinner. He's got this really good brandy that someone brought him. Maybe I'll buy him a bottle of good whiskey on my way home--he tried to go to the liquor store yesterday but was there too early and they weren't open yet.

So today I'll catalog some more videos--it's and endless stream for me. The member libraries take whatever donations they get to add to their collections, plus they buy the castoffs from the local video stores. It's really the biggest pile of junk and I can't believe what they call a collection, but they haven't asked my advice about collection development (yet) so I do what I do. The water temperature of Silver Lake is reported to be 75 degrees. There's no water in the beaver dam at the head of the lake, according to Phil--he was there on Monday and said it's just mud now, no water. Nature has a way of changing things.

Well, my map left out a couple of states (like, say NEW YORK) but all in all it's pretty typical that I've covered the East Coast and left a whole bunch of the Northwest unvisited. That's where I've always wanted to go. And Alaska. I have two more friends who are going there this summer. Well, that's good--someone should go there.

create your own

 
There certainly are some interesting places I HAVEN'T been to in this country, aren't there.  Some places I've always wanted to go.  Guess I've covered the Rust Belt pretty thoroughly, back and forth a few times even.
 
Heavy air here today, stuffy and muggy.  We had rain over the weekend.  Yesterday morning it was semi-sunny, thick haze over the lake, taking away the mountains until the haze burned off and they reappeared.  Sort of the way my consciousness reappeared, slowly.  I lay in bed in the boat house, staring out at the lake for a long time (while the brown girls stared at me from above, standing on the bed looking down at me as they do in the morning).  Little did I know that Tess had shredded half a box of kleenex on the porch in the wee hours.  If that's all she did I was lucky, though.  At home I've got all my shoes piled in the bathroom, which is shut off from her at night.  I've lost some precious shoes now to the little darling.
 
Saturday I had to go to Westport, which is a beautiful town on Lake Champlain, but the part I went to is not on the lake, it's on the highway.  Took Jackson to the vet, tried to give him back.  No luck.  That's ok, he's mine now.  He's healthy, a good weight, no heartworms, all shot up.  I'd just watched a Sharon Stone movie in which she gets executed, 4 vials of stuff go into her veins.  Jack got 4 vials of stuff shot into his veins too, only he didn't die, he perked right up and wagged his tail a lot.  Loved being the center of attention.
 
Saturday night was the final night of Linda's visit, this time.  She'll be back in 2 weeks.  We had our usual drinkathon.  Whiskey first, then wine, then scotch, then rum.  I can do that, especially since the last three were in moderation.  Just a shot of each,  to savor.  Apparently Erdvilas drinks like that at home too.  How a human could function is beyond me.  But then, I don't think he really does.  Sunday was Sunday dinner, 5 of us this week so it was festive and nice.  Spent the afternoon sleeping.  This is dangerously close to clinical depression, I'm afraid.  I'm keeping my psychiatrist's number at hand and think I may need to adjust my meds.  I'm just sleeping too much these days and have no interest in much of anything.   I did stack firewood for 1/2 an hour last night, though, which belies the depression theory.  Let's see what this week brings.  Tonight I hope to take the chocolates to the vet for their $100 conversation with David (each, that is--for $100 I get their company and good health for a year, I don't think that's bad at all, really).  I had a 2 p.m. appointment but had to cancel it because I can't take the afternoon off, too much to do.  Now I have to go and wait with the rest of the walk-ins.  Keeseville boogers, yuck.  We all sit in the waiting room and stare at each other, comparing pets and guts.  Sometimes it's entertaining but sometimes it's just really depressing because there are people who've never taken their pets to the vet at all.
 
Molly's been working hard on the program for Henry's memorial service.  Henry's memorial service.  God that sounds awful.  I guess it's the last thing we'll do about all this, together anyway.  I'm surprising myself by planning to read something.  I never have the strength to do that, but what I'm reading I really like and is something that is personal for me and seems to mesh with what I feel about Henry as well as some of my philosophy about humankind.  Since it's not a personal recollection about Henry, I think I can do it.  It's not a poem, sentimental or emotional, it's analytical.  Besides, it's Steinbeck.  That should make it ok to read.  We'll see how I do.  If I get to go first that should help a whole lot, too.  I spoke at Kox's memorial, rambled on a bit but did get to say some things about how much she meant to me as a child and how important she always was in my life.
 
And now it's time to do some more cataloging.  Children's books, adult books and then the bane of my professional existence: videos.

Just (proudly) finished cataloging the backlog of Saranac Lake's stuff. Books on tape and videos. The last one was a 1965 Sandra Dee, Bobby Darin video, which I had to do all original cataloging for, as no library among the 40,000 in the data base we use for cataloging confesses to owning it. My favorite subject heading in the whole bunch I just cataloged came from a recorded book: Jesus Christ--Drama. Isn't that appropriate for our lives these days. My father used to say Christ on a crutch! but that seems to take a long time to say when you're looking for an expletive. We used to try out Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, but that, too takes a long time to say. I was thinking this morning of two things my sister taught me when I was a child. You'll see the relevance in a moment. One was that, water does NOT come out of a hose faster if you put your finger over the end to make it spray harder. Oh I wanted to believe she was wrong about that, but she was seldom wrong about things of that nature. This came to me while I was filling the dogs' water bowl. The other was the meaning of the word shit ("Know what SHIT means?" no. "It means poop!" This conversation took place in the basement of 625 Rome Avenue, where Henry had his electric train set, where we had our television--black and white--set up, where we had "the pink shelves" full of canned goods that I took comfort would get us though survival in case of a nuclear attack, and where we kept some of our pet rats, also to where these pet rats would occasionall escape). This came to me as I was on my hands and knees cleaning up Jackson's diarrhea (to which I know I've referred to too much already in this blog lately) this morning at 7:30. If I cared more about this dog I'd be concerned but it seems my only real concern is that my house is starting to smell really bad. And yes, Kristen, you're right: dog shit smells at LEAST as bad, if not worse than cat shit. Hell, it's all bad. At least he has the good sense to poop on the vinyl floor and not the rug. I guess he gets points for trying. I noticed this morning that his tail and underpants are also green, adding to his charm, I guess.

I was awakened this morning by a pebble being dropped on my head by little Tess, who had found my stash of Sicily stones. Where she found them I'm not sure, but she has an uncanny ability to find things I don't want her to have. So boink! she dropped it from a standing height above me, hit me square on the forehead. Who could really mind waking up to that, when I love the way a dog's chin looks from below. You never really got the full effect of that with the dachshunds we had as children.

It's supposed to rain for the next 4 days. Guess this means I will NOT mow my lawn, but it will instead grow and grow while I wait. Some people mow their lawns BEFORE the grass is shin-height. At least I went to the dump this morning on my way to work. The dump man liked me, he said I had a good sense of humor. Nice to be appreciated by someone. Dump men are not easy to please, either.