Inane Chatter

First, some background.  John has several hobbies,  but they mostly fall into three categories: cars, computers, and music.  This latest project combines two of the three.  You know, I shouldn’t call this his latest project.  He’s had a variation of this going on since we lived in our first apartment in DC ten years ago, but, as with many hobbies, he only picks it up every once in a while.  He recently installed some recording software on the computer in the basement, and now he has a whole studio down there.  We recorded possibly the most laid back recording of “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out” so he could mess around with the program.  It turned out okay, so here it is.

It’s not perfect, so please don’t judge too harshly.  The more we listen to it, the more we both hear things we’d change if we were to do it over.  I think that could go on forever, though (you’re always your harshest critic), so we decided to leave it as is.  There are plenty of things we like about it, too, particularly the end.

Some notes:

1. I don’t think it sounds like me.  I think it sounds like Mindy.  She wasn’t here, though, so I’m pretty certain it was me.
2. Where did that accent come from?
3. If I listen to it one way, I think I sound like I’m trying too hard.  I know I wasn’t trying very hard at all, and when I think about that, I think I should re-record it and try harder so I can sound better.  But then I probably would sound like I’m trying too hard and this is a never-ending circle so cut it out already.
4. I really like harmonizing with myself.    It’s fun.

If you like it, we might take requests.

I don’t think this is the right time of day for me.  I tend to post in the evenings, but exactly when varies from right after I get home to right before I go to sleep.  Right now, when I’m looking at the clock and calculating how many hours of sleep I can get and trying to decide if that’s going to be enough and will I be exhausted tomorrow or will I hear my alarm and reset it because I’m too tired to run – right now is when I shouldn’t be writing.  I get anxious about getting enough sleep, and feeling like I need to post something before I go to bed makes it worse.  It’s not a high level of anxiety or anything, nothing like when I was traveling, but there’s something left undone and I won’t feel better until it’s done and even when it’s done, if I did it late (like now), I won’t feel enough better because, well, now it’s late.  And later means less sleep.  And for some reason, I can’t be laid back about how much sleep I get.  Solution?  (I’m into solutions lately.)  Post earlier.  Before dinner.  Or get ready for bed and post from there.  That’s worked for me a couple of times.  Which leads me to…why am I not doing that now?

We had some mechanical difficulties today.  Woke up to find the A/C not working anymore, so I called the company who last serviced it and they sent out a technician.  We had an easy problem to fix, luckily, so the A/C was back on by early afternoon and I finished the day working from home.  Love doing that.  Then, I asked John to stop on the way home to pick up dinner (Subway), but I’d forgotten about his weird car issue.  He bought the sandwiches, but couldn’t get home because his car wouldn’t start.  I picked him up, we ate dinner and dodged anonymous phone calls (Iowa keeps calling, but they never leave a message.), and then we headed back to Subway to see if his car would start.  It did, I guess because it had been an hour or two.  John thinks (and I agree, whatever that’s worth) that it’s a temperature issue.  The car will start when it’s been sitting for a while (overnight or the whole work day for sure, and, like tonight, even just for a couple of hours), but if you drive it for 20 minutes or more and then stop just for a couple of minutes, it won’t start until it’s cooled down.  Sometimes it helps to top off the gas tank, but that doesn’t always work.  If he’s only driven it for a couple of minutes (like to the gas station or to Starbucks), it’ll start even after another quick stop.  It’s weird, and if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have asked him to pick up dinner.  Maybe that’s the lesson: don’t ask John to pick up dinner.  He’ll like that one.  Even if it doesn’t actually solve the car problem.

Why does there have to be a lesson?  Why is Roxy incapable of backing up?  Why do birds suddenly appear?  Why ask why?  Drink Bud Dry.

John and I decided recently that we need to set aside one or two nights a month for each of us to be able to have whatever we want for dinner with no regard for each other’s feelings on the matter.  I could eat Indian food every night.  He could eat Mediterranean food every night.  He likes Indian, and I like Mediterranean, but we both rarely feel like having the other’s favorite.  So.  Once or twice a month, we’ll agree to disagree.  I’ll order Indian, he’ll order Mediterranean, and we’ll eat our different favorite ethnic meals together and watch a movie.  Problem (that of craving a favorite food but rarely getting to eat it unless one of us is out of town) solved.

Why am I bringing this up tonight? You’d think it’s because that’s tonight’s plan for dinner, but you’d be wrong.  Tonight, we’re having breakfast for dinner.

It’s hard to prioritize sometimes.

A somewhat blurry picture of the stage at Wolf Trap, right before we got in trouble for taking pictures.

Last night, John wanted a pretzel.  They don’t allow food or drinks in the pavilion (only on the lawn, which is where we wanted to be, but I waited too long to buy tickets, and we were forced to sit in actual SEATS with backs and arms and everything), so he didn’t have time to finish his giant pretzel.  That’s where my purse came into play.  It’s my summer purse, and I’ve hardly used it, so it was basically empty.  Unusual for me.  Wallet, phone, keys – that’s it.  Plenty of room for a half of a giant salt-covered pretzel.  I’m a criminal.  I run red lights and I smuggle food into theaters.  And when I got up this morning, I had to turn my purse inside out and upside down to get all the salt out.  For the record, he appreciates me.

Today, we took Step One in the Cancel the Cable Already! Plan.  Actually, we took Step 1 a few days ago when we ordered the Roku.  It arrived today, we set it up, we’ve tested it out, and tonight we’re going to watch a movie.  How exactly does this help us in the Cancel the Cable Already! Plan?  Um…I won’t be DVRing movies from Comcast anymore.  It doesn’t help with current TV, either.  Really, I think it’s a mindset change.  We have a Roku!  Next step is to put together a nice-looking, unobtrusive computer that can live near the TV and provide the link to the internet.  Soon.

Speaking of the internet, we had to go to our local Comcast office this morning to pick up a new modem.  That fixed our connection problem.  I’m so relieved.  I didn’t want to have to wait until Monday night for a technician to show up (or not show up) and then tell us they can’t fix our problem (which is what they were saying on the phone last night).

A little housekeeping, figuratively speaking: Roxy had four seizures in 15 minutes Thursday night (late, of course).  The vet probably considers that one seizure.  She hasn’t had any since then, so technically, I think it doesn’t count as a cluster.  She desperately needed a bath after that, so I brushed 2 tons of hair of her (the furminator is awesome), and then gave her a bath on the deck this afternoon.  She’s all clean and sparkly now.

Some literal housekeeping: I helped John sort and clean out a big part of the basement today.  We boxed up all of our inventory books and stacked them in a corner, got rid of some trash, put a few more things aside for donation, and rearranged the whole east side, giving the band more room in their corner and making it easier for John to get to his weight bench.  More importantly, John used the shop vac to get rid of a lot of dust and a TON of dog hair.  The basement looks a whole lot better, unfinished as it is, when it’s not coated in dog hair.  I could say that about everything, I think.  Except dogs.

Today was not a bad day.  It was just like every other day this week, though, with a breakneck pace and no actual work that got done.  By me, anyway.  Other people might be having better luck.  And I get it, kind of.  I’m managing a process now, and I have other people (will someday have other people – that’s part of what we’ve been having meetings about this week) who have to do the stuff that needs to get done, so I’m not as hands on as I’m used to being, but deadlines are looming and I feel like I need to say I’ve accomplished something!  I’m a little worn out.  A little frazzled.  A little (a lot) in need of extra hours in the day with no meetings.  Except who wants more hours at work?  Also, who wants to keep talking about work once they’re at home?  Not me.

John called to tell me he was  just leaving the office and to apologize for how late it is.  I’m feeling weak-willed because I have no energy and my head is pounding (and not just the part that’s still tender from my encounter with the window yesterday), so I asked him to be the voice of reason and say “No, we can’t order Chinese food.  We’re having ravioli or stir fry or something that’s already in the house and is relatively good for us.”  But since it’s so late, and neither of us wants to deal with cooking and cleaning up, he failed in his duty (as the voice of reason) and told me that if Chinese food is the only thing that will make me feel better, then that’s what we should have for dinner.  And I gave in.  Because I’m weak.  Our local Chinese place should hang our picture on the wall.  (This hasn’t been a good week for healthy dinners.)

John needed rescuing today.  His car has been doing this weird thing for the last few months.  If he stops somewhere briefly (an errand on the way home, coffee on the way to work, etc), he can’t start the car again unless he puts more gas in, even when the tank is nearly full.  One time he was able to start it after he waited about half an hour, but other times, that hasn’t worked.  Today, he called from the parking lot outside AutoZone (maybe it was Advanced Auto Parts – I can’t keep those stores straight), apologized because it was pouring down rain, and asked me to bring the full gas can.  It wasn’t raining at home yet (the wind had just picked up, but the rain hadn’t arrived), so I said of course I’ll go help him.  In the time it took me to put my shoes on (flip-flops, even), buckets of water started pouring from the sky.  I opened the garage door, grabbed a couple of towels, dashed to the car (in the driveway) to throw the towels and my wallet into the front seat, and was soaked.  I still had to dash to the garage for the gas can, and then to the back of the car to put it in the trunk, and then back to the front seat.  I was wet through and I pointed the garage door remote thing at the garage and – nothing.  Not working.  So I grabbed my keys, went back in through the front door, closed the garage door, and ran back to the car.  Buckets of water in high winds were coming out of the sky, and when I made it back to the car, I looked like a drowned rat.  Water was streaming from my hair to my feet.  John was only ten miles away (maybe seven or eight), and by the time I got there, it wasn’t raining anymore.  And John?  Barely damp.  If I had waited five minutes to come to his rescue, I could have stayed dry.  But he’s grateful.  That works for me.

I do want to tell some stories about this vacation, but that would involve adding pictures, and have I mentioned how draining it is to upload pictures to this site?  I don’t have that kind of energy.  Some people at work were giving me a hard time for coming back from vacation on a Thursday (why not take the rest of the week off and come back on Monday?), and while I see their point, it’s totally awesome to go back to work on a Thursday.  Two-day work week!  The weekend is right around the corner.  And as fun as that vacation was (it was totally fun), I’m very glad to be home.  I love my bed.  And my dogs.  And my kitchen.  Well, I don’t love my kitchen, but it’s bigger than what we were working with in Georgia.  Not that I spent much time in it.

Okay, maybe this is going to be a little bit of a vacation post.  I was reading The Bloggess just now, and of course I’m laughing hysterically at today’s post (that should totally go without saying), and I had a similar experience over the weekend, and then I started writing the story in my head, so here it is.

Background: My family (Mom, Dad, brother, sister, me, assorted spouses, and one almost 5-year-old) decided to stay in a cabin in the mountains in northwest Georgia for a few days.  In the mountains.  In the woods.  Not in a clearing in the woods.  In the woods.  With me?  Okay.  ‘Cause this will become important.  John and I were supposed to arrive just before midnight Friday night (fly into Atlanta, rent a car, drive an hour and a half), but our flight was delayed (a lot) and then, only about 7 miles from the place, the road was blocked by a police cruiser because the power company was removing a tree from the power lines.  After about 20 minutes of sitting there (no map, no Internet connection to find a map), I finally asked the cop if there was another way to get where we were going.  There was, of course, and we finally got to the house.  In the woods.  At about 2:30 in the morning.  Oh, after we pulled into the wrong driveway.  ‘Cause it was a gravel road that was more of a track up the mountain.  In the very deepest dark.  Because it was in the woods!  And the power was out.  Dad met us at the right driveway with a flashlight and helped us get inside (where there were no lights, because the power was out) and find our bedroom.  With a flashlight.  Because there was no power.  Being up the mountain meant we were using well water, which gets into the house via pump.  Which totally doesn’t work when there’s no power.  So, you know, no flushing.  And bottled water for brushing teeth and washing faces and hands.  NO POWER!  But we were ready to collapse into bed (a bed we never collapsed into again after that night – I promise I’m getting to the point) when the power came back on, and so did every light in the house.  Anyway, most of that background was not really necessary, but let’s just say it illustrates how tired and ready for bed we were the next night, having only gotten about 5 hours of sleep the night before.

I was washing my face in the bathroom when I heard a very loud, somewhat shocked “JESUS CHRIST!” from the bedroom.  I came running and found John standing about three feet away from the foot of the bed, kinda pointing towards the pillow.  “There’s a scorpion.  IN the bed.”  “Can’t be.  Scorpions don’t live in Georgia, they live in Texas and New Mexico and deserts and stuff.”  “Zannah, it was a scorpion.  Go look.”  “Um, no.”  He twitched the covers a little and I saw something scurry under his pillow.  I got a little closer and saw it come out from under the pillow and go upside down under the mattress.  Kinda looked like a scorpion to me, but I wasn’t about to get close enough to really look.  Besides, it couldn’t be.  Either way, though, I didn’t want it in the bed.  John was pretty freaked out, and I wasn’t brave enough to get it, so I ran upstairs and grabbed Corey before he disappeared into his room.  Normally, I’m the one who finds the big ugly bug, and I’m the one who completely freaks out.  John walks into the situation knowing what to expect (I’ve already shrieked about the bug), so he’s usually able to handle it fairly calmly.  This time,  he was the one who found it after nearly LAYING DOWN ON TOP OF IT, so I think he was well within his rights to be a little less than rational.  Anyway, big brother came down, we both grabbed shoes, and I helped him lift up the mattress so he could WHACK the damn thing dead.  And then he put it in a plastic bag to show every person who came to the house over the next few days.  ‘Cause he’s a boy.  Thanks, Cor, for killing the scorpion!  After Corey left (with the scorpion, which he left on the table for everyone to find at breakfast), John and I discussed whether or not we’d be able to sleep in that bed.  I was actually fairly okay with it, I think because I’m not the one who found it, whereas all those other times I have been the one surprised by the spider or the centipede, I can’t sleep because of all the creepy-crawly nightmares.  According to John, that kind of inconsistency is one of my most endearing (or is that infuriating?) qualities.  Anyway, we did a thorough search of the room and the bed, checked all of the blankets, all of the sheets, took the pillows out of the pillowcases so we could shake them out, lifted up the mattress again, looked under the bed with the flashlight, then checked the drooping fabric underneath the box spring just in case they were nesting (isn’t that something you’ve heard of?  A nest of scorpions?  Maybe that’s vipers…), and when we didn’t find anything, we decided it was time to go to bed.  Gingerly.  And without much sleep.  Every night after that, we did the same bed check.

After the scorpion IN THE BED, the spiderwebs that apparently only took 10 minutes to string up across every doorway and sidewalk, and the millipede on the wall over our bed the last night (I called Dad to rescue us from that one), John and I have decided that although we like the idea of having a house in the woods, the woods will totally have to keep their distance.  Nature (the buggy part, at least) is not for me.

(I counted six, which I totally (seven) put in on purpose.  For reals.  Think I can go higher next time?)

John and I took the dogs for a walk this evening, and while we were out, we bumped into a couple with their small son (between 2 and 3, I think).  We slowed down to let him say hi to the dogs, and as I reeled Roxy in, his mother said not to worry about her, they have a big labradoodle at home.  The kid said, “Yeah, I have a big waterdoodle at home,” and he walked right up to Roxy and wrapped his arms around her neck in a gentle hug.  Then he planted a big kiss right on the tip of her nose and toddled off.  Seriously cute.  He wasn’t even a little bit afraid of a dog as tall as he was.  He didn’t seem to notice Riley, who was probably closer in size to his waterdoodle.

It’s the end of the weekend.  I hate that.  John and I were talking this morning about how the conventional life (9-5 jobs, living for the weekends, tiny suburban house with neighbors we don’t know right on top of us) isn’t really working for us.  We want something different (set our own hours, work for ourselves doing something we like, live further away from people), but what if something different doesn’t work?  So we’re talking about it.

It rained all night last night.  A welcome change, and really soothing to fall asleep to (several times, since I woke up a few times last night).  We woke up at 7 this morning to find it still pouring, so running was out of the question.  We found ourselves breakfasted and in the basement before 9am, and we spent a good hour making some donation and trash decisions.  We’re not done getting rid of the crap in the basement, not by a long shot, but we made a sizable dent.  (That looks weird.  Sizable.  Sizeable?  Still weird.)  Around 10:30, I went to Costco for Roxy’s medicine and then to Target (yeah, I know – again), and I was supposed to be home before noon so we could leave at noon to meet Erik and Margaret for lunch and a movie.  Well, you know how Target is.  I got sucked in, and it was almost noon when I got in the car to come home and get John.  So we were late.  I hate being late, but this time I can’t blame anyone by myself (sorry again, guys!).  It didn’t help that I got off the toll road going the wrong way on 7 and had to turn around and THEN wade through the normal traffic in the area.  Lunch (at Maggiano’s) was good, but it was more about catching up with E&M, who we hadn’t seen since mid-May, and that was much-needed and much fun.  After the movie (Knight and Day – the first half was funny and pretty entertaining.  The second half was okay, but less fun.), I bought a new wallet (a nice red, big, adult-type wallet to replace my falling-apart, overstuffed, tiny little wallet that gets lost in my purse and was meant to only hold the bare necessities but got drafted into full-time use because I don’t know why), and we came home, checked on the dogs (they’re fine), and did geeky website things together (I updated my Pages section.  See?).  Tomorrow might not be so productive, but you never know.

I’ve been feeling pretty tired lately.  I think I’ve been doing okay about getting to bed at a reasonable hour, but I’m rethinking my whole let’s-get-up-super-early-to-run-before-the-sun-comes-up-and-the-heat-gets-unbearable idea.  I still think it’s a good idea, but 5:15 is kinda early.  I usually wake up 20-30 minutes before my alarm goes off, whatever time it’s set to, and waking up in the 4am hour is disconcerting.  And TOO EARLY, even when I get to go back to sleep for a while.  This morning I got up with my alarm, sat on the edge of the bed for a couple of minutes (felt like a couple, but when I looked at the clock I saw it had been about ten), and then I stood up and looked at the bed for another few (probably closer to ten again) minutes, and THEN I reached for my workout clothes.  On the one hand, maybe I need all that extra time I’m giving myself by setting the alarm so early.  On the other hand, if I used all that extra time for sleeping, maybe I wouldn’t be such a zombie and I wouldn’t need the extra time.

I don’t like being a zombie.  It doesn’t last long, though.  Once I get back from my run, I’m wide awake and talking a mile a minute.  Just ask John, who generally isn’t ready for that yet.

For real.  We went this afternoon, and now there’s nothing left.  It’s all at our house.  Such a dangerous place for us to go.  “I need new running shorts.”  “Me, too, except I need running shirts.”  “Okay, let’s go to Target.”  “Hey, light bulbs!”  “That reminds me; we need a new lamp.”  “Weren’t we talking about getting an everyday tablecloth?”  “Hangers!  We’re out of hangers with clips!”  We managed NOT to buy a new vacuum cleaner, even though we need one.  We’ll give Target a chance to recover and restock and then we’ll be back for that.

After Target, I dropped John off at home and went to Wegman’s, where I bought out the produce section.  Oh!  Then I sliced my first whole cantaloupe.    I’m very proud of myself.  And I ate two slices immediately.  I think that’s all I’ll be eating for the next two days ’cause this cantaloupe is that fresh.  I need to learn more about picking them out.  But it’s so good!

I wore the dogs out today.  We went for a two-mile walk around mid-morning and they came inside acting like I’d asked them to run a marathon, and this evening I brought them to the block party where John’s band was playing.  Roxy laid down at the end of her leash and pretended we weren’t there, as usual, but Riley got a little nervous and spent the whole time trying to crawl into my lap.  While drooling.  He was mostly okay as long as I had my hands on him, but heaven forbid I let go so I could clap for the band (who did really well – John was awesome during “All Along the Watchtower”).

We’ve never really made a big deal out of the 4th of July.  I think we’re too lazy.  A couple or three years ago, we had some people over and played with sparklers, but that hardly took any effort.  Last year, we tagged along with other people’s plans and spent the afternoon at the pool and watched the fireworks in Falls Church (really good fireworks).  This year we had tentative plans to do that again, but then the band got a gig, and that ended up taking up pretty much the whole day.

Tomorrow will be all about trying to keep cool.  It’s supposed to get ridiculously hot, but I don’t have to do anything that’ll keep me outside.  I think I can safely skip running.

I bought wasp killer (and crabgrass killer – we’re don’t believe in nature in this house) and after rehearsal, John humored me by putting on long pants, a sweatshirt, safety glasses, and leather gloves, and then he went out in the dark, sprayed the hell out of the wasp nest, and sprinted around the side of the house when he saw something drop to the ground.  I think I freaked him out with my speculations about swarms of angry flying venomous insects.  But they’re dead!  He went back out after a couple of minutes with a flashlight to check out the carnage.  I’m thrilled they’re dead.  He feels kinda bad.

Today was the first day of my new job.  Same company, new boss, loads of new (and higher) responsibilities, and I think I’m in a little over my head.  It’s a good thing (right?), and I certainly won’t be bored.  The best part is the complete and utter lack of anything resembling travel.  Or even a commute.  I’ll have the occasional meeting in DC, and there may be a time in the fall when I have to spend a few days in a row down there, but the majority of my time will be spent in the office that’s only 20 minutes (max) from my house.  SO much better.

Enough about work.  I performed my adjunct-to-the-band duties tonight and put their set list together for them.  They’ve got a 4th of July gig nearby, and tonight was their last rehearsal before the big day.

Ricky Gervais is doing stand-up in the other room and I can’t concentrate anymore, so I’m off.

We have a wasp’s nest just outside the garage door.  A baby wasp’s nest.  A nest for baby wasps.  (Not really.  Actually, that, too.)  It looks like it’s just the beginning of a nest, so it’s still really small.  There were about five wasps crawling on it and I refused to get close enough to find out what kind of wasps they are.  I looked up how to get rid of them and that’s almost as scary as leaving them there.  Apparently, the first thing you’re supposed to do it go make sure you’re not allergic to wasp stings.  If you are, call an exterminator.  If you’re not, go buy a pressurized can of wasp killer/poison, wear multiple layers with long sleeves and long pants, tuck your pants into your shoes, tuck your sleeves into your gloves (wear gloves), and wear a hat and goggles.  Oh, and it’s suggested that your top layer be something non-permeable, like rubber.  Wait until dark and spray the hell out of the nest.  You’re also supposed to make sure you have an escape route just in case you don’t aim very well or the poison doesn’t act fast enough and you end up with a swarm of angry wasps chasing you.  I wish I were making this stuff up.  Just google it.  I want nothing to do with this.

In other news…am I fixed?  It looks like it on every browser and every computer I have access to, but I no longer trust that.  If it looks weird to you (no picture, tag line in the wrong place, etc), please let me know.  John found a way to make it work again, but it’s not the right way.  Of course, it is, it works, but we can find no earthly reason why it wasn’t working before.  I’ve compared my CSS file to the original one, before I tinkered with it, and we don’t see any differences. But hey, it works (I think), and I still might tinker with changing the look over the weekend.  This whole thing started because I wanted to change the picture, and I still want to do that, so we’ll see what happens.

So John is wonderful (I don’t say that enough), not only because he fixed my website, but also because he came home with flowers for me today.  He stopped to buy wasp killer, but the store didn’t have it.  Instead, he bought ice cream (for himself – I swore off ice cream when I quit eating pound cake) and flowers for me.  ‘Cause that’s what you do when they’re out of wasp killer.  Or that’s what you do when you know you can’t immediately kill the wasps that are threatening your wife.  I love flowers.

This is the second day in a row I’ve forgotten to pick up my dry cleaning.  And that’s kind of a problem this time, ’cause ALL of my work clothes are there.  What am I supposed to wear tomorrow?  I think I’ll have to wear what I wore yesterday or the day before again.  Not really a big deal since when I’m downtown, I never see the same people two days in a row.  But still.  How could I have forgotten again?  I wrote it down!

I know exactly how I forgot ’cause I do this every time I plan on stopping somewhere on my way home from work.  Whether it’s the pharmacy, the bank (which I also forgot about today – I remembered as I typed those words), the grocery store, or the dry cleaner’s, I have to tell myself over and over again just so I won’t go into auto-pilot mode and go straight home.  It rarely works, in part because I’m usually on the phone.  I’m talking to someone (today it was John, venting about work) and repeating my errands to myself isn’t as effective when I’m trying to have a coherent conversation.  So I find myself in the driveway.  Often, that’s when I remember the errand, and I just back right out and go.  Today, though, I was unloading groceries from the car (I didn’t start talking to John until after the Wegman’s stop) and letting the dogs out.  I sat down at the computer, remembered the dry cleaning, grabbed my keys, and looked at the clock.  Then I yelled a few not-nice things into the phone (still talking to John) because it was 7pm on the dot, and that’s when my dry cleaner closes.

What do I have to do?  Install dry-erase boards on my dashboard?  …  That’s not a bad idea.

Roxy is fine.  Thought I’d start with that, since that’s pretty much how John started a phone call to me late at night on the first Monday I was in Rhode Island.  That’s two weeks ago now.  John got home from work that night and everything was fine.  He went out to rehearsal at Will’s place just before seven and got back right around ten.  He said both dogs met him at the door, as usual, wagging their tails and looking stupidly happy, as usual.  But Roxy was soaking wet all around her neck.  And then he saw this:

And this:

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And lots more.  Those two pictures are of opposite corners of the first floor of our house.  There was blood EVERYwhere.  It was on the dishwasher, the blinds, the walls, all over the floor, the couch, and, of course, the dog.  Who was fine (and not really bleeding anymore).  John spent a couple of hours cleaning up, and then he brought Roxy upstairs to sleep and left Riley downstairs.  Roxy spent all of Tuesday at the vet, who didn’t have much to say.  She had a shallow gash along her shoulder, which apparently bleeds like a scalp wound would on a person.  As far as we can tell, Roxy had a seizure while John was a rehearsal and Riley did his crazy holding her down thing and in all the thrashing around, managed to scrape her shoulder.  Blood flew during the seizure, I’d imagine, and then Roxy did her recovery thing, which consists of her wandering aimlessly around the first floor, rubbing on everything and bumping into every hard surface.  This time, she tracked (and rubbed) blood all over everything within reach.

She really is fine.  John said she wasn’t bleeding anymore by the time he got her into the bathtub.  The vet didn’t even have to shave her.  We realized we can’t leave the two of them loose in the house when we’re not home after this, and so we can’t use the pet-sitting service anymore.  We can crate them while we’re at work or when we go out, but if we’re out of town, we can’t crate them all day and all night except for the three hours a day the pet-sitter is visiting.  Maybe if we had a house-sitter…  Luckily, the kennel had an opening (two – they have to be boarded in separate runs now, too) for the RI trip, so John left them there Wednesday morning and came to see me Wednesday night.

While I’m documenting seizures, she had that one Monday night two weeks ago (6/14), another short one the following Tuesday night (6/15), and she had one yesterday around noon (6/27).  Short, we were home, no big deal.  Every person who answers the phone at our vet’s office knows who we are.  I called this morning to update her file with yesterday’s seizure, and all I had to do was say just that: “This is Susannah, and I’m calling to update Roxy’s chart.”  They used to have to ask for my last name, my phone number, all that stuff, but not anymore.  On a positive note, two weeks ago she only had two seizures in a row, 24 hours apart instead of 12.  This time, she had one yesterday around noon and hadn’t had another one by the time I left for work this morning.  She seems to have broken the three-in-a-row-12-hours-apart pattern.  Yay!

Our do-nothing weekend was surprisingly productive.  We made it to the book sale and bought a ton of books, went to Home Depot on the way home, and then spent maybe half an hour re-potting my herbs, planting seeds in the little face pots, and hanging flowers from the front porch.  While we were out front, our neighbor came rushing over and gave us a pound cake!  We couldn’t imagine what for, but then she apologized for being so late with it and said it’s a thank you present for helping her husband and daughter shovel out the driveway and sidewalk last February.  I’d completely forgotten about that, at least partly because I didn’t help.  That was all John.  Such a good neighbor.  And SUCH a good pound cake.

Today, we slept in again (sleeping in is a beautiful thing) and then totally cleaned up our super messy bedroom.  Everything is put away, we got rid of some things, we dusted everywhere, and vacuumed the whole room, including under the bed.  I haven’t attacked my closet yet, but that’s coming soon.  And it’s not that scary.

Pound cake isn’t scary, either.  I want some.

I came thisclose to missing this year’s huge used book sale.  You know, the one that happens the last weekend in June every year?  The one I usually talk up to everyone I meet?  The one I usually invite people over for so they can be in town to go with me?  I forgot about it.  John and I were just going through the garage, looking for hazardous household waste to get rid of at the high school (the county has a contractor come by every couple of months for that sort of thing), and the book sale popped into my head.  I kinda shouted “Oh, shit.  The book sale!” as I ran for the computer to check the dates (yes, it’s that important to me), and from the garage I could hear John asking, “When is it?” with some concern.  Yeah, it’s this weekend.  Like right now.  So we’ve put everything else on hold (everything else equals, um, not really anything since we weren’t doing anything and hadn’t made any plans – that’s interesting.  Maybe subconsciously we knew the book sale was this weekend and deliberately left our schedule open.) and we’re going right now.  I’m not prepared (I usually have lists), but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we have and what I want.  Not having a list means I’ll browse more.  And that’s okay with me.

I thought something I had planned for July was actually happening in June, and I was getting John all annoyed about it because it would have happened tomorrow (Saturday), and I’d be gone for the whole day right after coming home for the first time in two weeks.  And while we were talking about it (two days ago), I realized it might actually be scheduled for a Saturday in July,  but I couldn’t be sure….  I checked, and yes, it’s not until July, and yes, I can’t tell one month from the next.  But that means we can both sleep away the whole weekend, and that kind of rest is something we could both really use.  John got in last Sunday night from Rhode Island and has worked almost nonstop since then.  His mother and youngest sister stayed a couple of nights earlier in the week (college visits), so when he got home from the airport, he spent a few hours furiously cleaning the house from top to bottom.  Several days later (now that I’m home to see it), it still looks good.  Having your mother come to stay is a powerful motivator.  I have the same reaction to visits from both sets of parents.

Anyway, we have deliberate plans to do nothing this weekend.  I could see myself going for an early morning run, but only if I happen to wake up early enough (’cause it’s HOT here).  We might try to get rid of some of the crap in the basement, but that might take too much effort.  I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.