Inane Chatter

1. Both dogs are pretty good in the car.  It helps that it’s only a three-hour drive.
2. Roxy can’t be trusted off her leash when there’s no fence.
3. Riley can.
4. Except when Roxy takes off.  Then he goes with her and loses his hearing.
5. Roxy is great in the house and with other dogs, mostly because she’s totally indifferent to everybody.
6. Riley is a challenge in the house.  Not the greatest houseguest.
7. That’s putting it politely.  He was nervous and Mabel (the resident dog) thought he was challenging her authority (he probably was).
8. Then he peed on the sliding glass door.  From the outside (small miracles).  In front of everyone.

John and I went to visit his parents this weekend.  Normally, we wouldn’t have brought the dogs, but I forgot about this trip until last weekend, and by then, the kennel was fully booked.  So it was either stay home with the dogs (we can’t use a pet-sitter anymore) and have John go by himself (the point of the trip was so  he (and his brother, coming from Connecticut) could help his dad do some car stuff) or figure out how to handle the complications of bringing the dogs.

Complication #1: John’s parents have a dog who, the one time they met, didn’t get along all that well with Riley.  We think it might be because they first sniffed each other out in the kitchen, Riley’s territory, and not somewhere slightly more neutral, like the yard.

Complication #2: No fence.  They have an invisible fence, and while Mabel has a collar and is trained to it, our dogs are not.

Complication #3: We needed a secure place to lock Roxy up if we all went out so she’d be separated from the other dogs and unable to hurt herself if she were to have a seizure.

Complication #4: Is it really okay if we bring the dogs?  I don’t want to force our animals into anyone else’s household.

All of these issues have solutions (say hello in the yard, keep them on their leashes, use Mabel’s old crate, be direct and ask the question), and after I talked with my mother-in-law, I felt better about most of them, so we decided to try it (obviously).  We’re not in any hurry to do it again, but at least we know it’s possible.  I think Mabel was happy to see us go.    I know Roxy and Riley are happy to be back home.

Update: Apparently, Roxy was SO happy to be home she went into convulsions.  Just one seizure, it’s been about two and half weeks since the last one, and I’m relieved she waited until we got home to do it.  I can only imagine having to deal with this on the side of the road with a frantic Riley.  She’s in the last stages of getting back to normal right now.

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?)

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:

\

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!

I don’t make smart food choices when I’m traveling.  See yesterday’s post for exhibit A.  I bought a custard-filled muffin and a cookie.  And that was not an isolated incident.  Now that I’m home (Ahem.  I’m home now.), with access to a fridge and cabinets and a Wegman’s, all I want to eat is fruit.  And vegetables.  Salads and turkey sandwiches.  This used to happen to me in the Navy, too, when I got back from being at sea for a stretch.  Fresh food disappeared fast, and we didn’t get supplies all that often.  I’d come home craving leafy green stuff.  SO not normal for me.  But it’ll be great if I can keep it up.

Keeping myself up today is something else.  I’m not nearly as tired as I was the last time I had to get up at 3:30 for a 6am flight (and I’m pretty sure that’s due to getting close to seven hours of sleep last night), but I can feel sleepiness rolling in.  I don’t think I have more than two hours left before I’m unconscious.  Hopefully John will get home before then.  Both so I can see him and so we can eat.  I’m hungry and I’m pretty sure I missed lunch today.  I had breakfast in Chicago while waiting for my connection (bagel, banana, iced vanilla chai – best drink ever), and that’s the last thing I remember eating.  8-ish.  I’m gonna have an apple while I wait.

For real.  It was sunny all day long (I was able to run outside this morning), but I spent some time working in my hotel room after I got back from work today, and now that I’m ready to go out and explore, it’s raining again.  Like pouring down rain.  Lots of water is falling from the sky, really fast.  So I’ve given up and ordered food to be delivered.  It’s my last night, but I’m doing a repeat of my trip home from North Carolina and getting up at 3:30 in the morning so I can make it to the airport on time for my stupidly early flight home.  So I’m okay with staying in.

I did get to see a little bit of Duluth.  I found a jogging path that goes right along the lake, and I ran across Duluth’s aerial lift bridge (while it was down, of course).

So that was neat.  I guess.  I’m sorry.  I have NO enthusiasm for this town and I’m going to stop apologizing for it.  I don’t have to like every place I go.  I do feel like I did my part in supporting local businesses, though.  Today, anyway.  I had breakfast at the New London Cafe, which was adorably cute.  (Yes, you read that right.  It wasn’t just adorable, not just cute, but adorably cute.)  I wish I’d been able to get there for lunch, but I didn’t have enough time.  I liked them so much that I just went to their website and sent them a message.  ‘Cause I’m nice like that.  On my way home from work, I stopped at this used bookstore I’d been driving by every day.  I tried to resist, but I failed.  And come on – how could I not check it out?  It’s a pretty good little store with crazy-low prices, made even lower by the girl who rang me up.  According to the signs, I should have been paying between $1 and $2 for each of the two books I was buying, but she said she’s allowed to do her own pricing and she was WAY too excited about that.  She was clearly still in high school, very young, and she’s working there for free, and then she only charged me $1.08.  For both books.  She said it was accurate, so I didn’t complain.  And then she said I had to go this bakery just down the street ’cause at the end of the day, they sell cookies and muffins and things at a major discount.  She didn’t have to tell me twice.  They had a poppy seed muffin, which is good enough for me, but it was filled with custard, and that makes it heavenly.    So I got one (and a cookie) for the jaw-droppingly low price of 93 cents.  How do these places stay in business?  Does it cost that little to live here?  My breakfast (two eggs over easy on toast) was only $3.03.  I think I may have overstated when I said I supported local businesses today.

I was so excited.  I actually walked to dinner tonight.  I guess technically I walked to dinner last night, too, but only to the lobby.  Tonight, I walked four whole blocks.  Outside!  And I stayed dry!  Seriously, though, a guy at work said they’ve only had two sunny days in the last two weeks, possibly more.  Of course, the weather could be more like it is at home – dry (John says our lawn is dying), humid, and HOT.  I can’t say I’m really looking forward to that weather.  But I’ll be HOME.

Dinner was really good.  Better than last night.  I went to Va Bene.  My waiter was great, and my table had the BEST view.  I was right at the lakeside edge of their back deck.  Still inside, but with an uninterrupted view of Lake Superior and all the sailboats.  Really nice.  If you ever find yourself in Duluth, I can recommend that restaurant.  The forecast says it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow (it said that about today, too, but I’m still hopeful), so tomorrow evening I may venture farther afield (further afield?  They both look really weird to me right now.).

The early bedtime followed by early exercise worked for me last night and today, so that’s my plan for tonight and tomorrow, too.  See ya!

I had dinner tonight in the hotel restaurant (actually very good and decently priced) because it was chilly out and I’m lazy.  Also, I’m aiming for a ridiculously early bedtime tonight and I didn’t want to have to go far for dinner.  Anyway, on my way back to my room, I headed for the bathrooms in the lobby to throw some trash away.  I went in that bathroom earlier tonight (I had one of those sneezing fits that just won’t quit – I hate those), and when I pushed open the door this time and reached towards the trash can, I thought “this looks different from earlier – “  When I reached that point in the thought, I snatched my hand back, jumped about three feet in the air, and threw myself back out the door.  Of the men’s bathroom.  Luckily for me, no one was in there and no one was in the hallway just outside the door to see me come flying out.

I still haven’t tried very hard to like Duluth.  At least the sun came out today.  If it’s still shining tomorrow, and more importantly, if I get enough sleep tonight and exercise tomorrow morning, I’ll try again.  I’m so done with traveling.  It’s hard to care.  I want to try, I want to see what’s great about Duluth (I’m sure there are great things), but only half-heartedly.  Traveling alone loses its appeal (it had appeal?) after the first five weeks.

Ugh, that’s depressing.  I swear, I’m just tired.  And brain-dead.

I am not in the mood to appreciate Duluth.  I got to my hotel last night right around midnight (central time, so it felt like 1am).  I was a little lucky getting in, though.  The rental car counter closes at 11:30, and that’s when my flight was supposed to land, so I thought I was going to have to take a cab to the hotel, then a cab to work (since the rental car counter doesn’t open again until 7:30 in the morning, which was when I was supposed to be at work), then a cab to the airport to pick up the car after work.  I wasn’t looking forward to that.  Fortunately, my flight landed ten minutes early and the rental car counter is less than 10 feet from the baggage carousel.  The one baggage carousel.  Duluth is tiny.  So, lucky me, I got my rental car.  Small yay.  Anyway, midnight at the check-in desk and thankfully, no one else was in the lobby, ’cause the check-in guy took it upon himself to bellow my room number to the space at large rather than just point to where he wrote it down for me like most hotels.  It was 1am before I could turn off my light, and all I wanted to do was sleep for hours and hours, but 1) it wasn’t dark in my room, and 2) I had to get up 5:45 to get to work on time.  Why wasn’t it dark in my room?  Because the Holiday Inn in downtown Duluth doesn’t believe in blackout curtains.  All I had were sheers, and my room faced the bright green Holiday Inn sign.  Still, I was tired, so I didn’t notice as much as I might have on a normal night.  5:45 came too early, but I made it to work okay and then through the day without falling over.  The day itself could have been better (I forgot to buy candy to bribe my students, so they were less enthusiastic than I was used to, and the lights in the room we were in were either too bright to see the projector screen or too dark to keep anyone awake), but it went well enough.  I headed back to my room thinking I might take a walk down the lakefront to find dinner, but it was raining, so that idea went out the window.  Speaking of the window, I was going to change clothes, but I saw a rope dangling from an upper floor.  I took a closer look and found a guy on one of those window-washing platforms about three feet down and three feet to the right of my window.  I could see him, and if he looked to his right, he could see into my room.  Not okay when I only have sheers on my windows.  On top of that, about 30 seconds after I noticed him, he started drilling into the wall outside my room.  SO loud.  I was on the phone with John, and he could hear it, too.  That eventually stopped (around six), but when I called the front desk to ask about it, they said it’ll be going on all week.  Shortly after that, the fire alarm went off.  The front desk made an announcement asking us to stay in our rooms while they investigate to find out if it’s a false alarm.  The alarm went off again, and then I heard the announcement of the false alarm.  Except that then the alarm went off again.  And again.  And again.  All in all, it went off about six times before I gave up and found a new hotel.  So now I’m somewhere else, in a hotel that has a really nice lobby and really nice employees (the check-in guy was great – upgraded my room while keeping me on the rate I’m supposed to be on for work) and HEAVY CURTAINS ON THE WINDOWS.  I never knew how important that was to me until the last few weeks.  In NC, the hotel only had sheers, but it wasn’t downtown or anything, so it got fairly dark at night.  In RI, the B&B had shutters that didn’t completely block out the light, but they were so cute and I was so relaxed that, while I would have preferred a darker room, it didn’t really bother me.  When I don’t have to wake up to an alarm clock, I enjoy waking up to sunlight streaming in my window.  But for work?  While traveling?  I want a dark room and real curtains.  Especially when there are men working outside my window.

Anyway, Duluth is not winning me over.  I’m sure it’s fine, and maybe I’ll like it better when the sun is shining and I’ve had a good night’s sleep, but I’m not seeing its charm at the moment.

At least we were wearing good walking shoes.

John and I were out the door at 6:30 Saturday morning ’cause the night before (after we got mildly sunburned from walking around all day), I had a brilliant idea.  I wanted to do the whole cliff walk and then walk back along Bellevue (about 3.5 miles each way), but neither of us wanted to do it in the sun or the heat, so why not get up before the sunshine gets so intense?  Smart, right?  Sure.  It was early, but we managed.  The first part was great: gentle sunlight, not many people out, temperature in the 60s, paved path.

The start of the Cliff Walk

There was a bird doing a Batman impression right at the beginning.  Looked kind of freaky.  Was he warning us of something?  Maybe the trail was out.  Or a storm was coming!  Or maybe we should have been on the lookout for an angry mob of birds who think they’re Batman.  Hard to say.  Maybe he was just drying his wings after his dawn swim.

Maybe we stumbled on the super secret "Welcoming the Day" ritual of this particular type of bird.

We continued on to the Forty Steps and took a few pictures of the rocky coastline…

Forty Steps from a distance. Makes you wonder why they were put there. It's cool and everything, but did they ever serve a purpose? They used to be a gathering place for the servants and workers from the mansions, but that doesn't explain why there are steps there in the first place.

Close-up. Duh.

Shortly after that, the freaky bird came back with more warnings.

If the bird really wanted to warn us, it should have learned English. Would that have been so hard? We certainly didn't get the message.

Then the paved path went away.  Still not bad, packed dirt and the occasional line of large flat rocks.  Then there were the parts where there was no path.  Just rocks.  And not flat ones, either.

Inside the fence was private property. We had to become part mountain goat to finish the cliff walk, and I don't even think we were halfway at this point.

I didn’t take any more pictures after that; I needed both hands.  John took a whole series of the place we think is Hammersmith Farm (where Jackie O grew up), but we don’t have any more of the walk itself.

Probably (possibly, anyway) Hammersmith Farm

Not too long after that (and after a scramble across more rocks that turned out not be necessary – we missed the path), we found ourselves back on level ground, where Ocean Drive starts and Bellevue ends.  We were 3.5 miles from where we started with no alternative but to walk back.  At least it was shady.  And we could see the front side of some of the mansions.  I didn’t take any mansion pictures, but I can’t resist topiary.

Camels on a desert safari across a perfectly maintained, beautifully green lawn.

Our early morning adventure ended after more than three hours and over seven miles with quick showers and then breakfast at The Franklin Spa on Spring Street.  (By the time we cleaned up, we had missed breakfast at the inn.)  The Franklin Spa does breakfast really well.  I recommend it if you’re ever in Newport.  In fact, I recommend every restaurant we went to and every park, walk, or other activity we did.

On Friday, when we were in between appointments to see retail space, we joined the crowd on Ocean Drive to see the start of the Newport Bermuda Race.  John took some great pictures and I took some so-so ones.

Looking all professional. (Don't burst my bubble if that's not what professional photographers look like.)

One of mine. Hazy, not that interesting. But still - sailboats! Racing! And a helicopter!

I really like the color in this one of John's. And the dog is cute.

John plays with depth of field and proves that I was actually there (blurry, but there).

Don't know who these people are, but I love this picture. How does he do it?

More sailboats, courtesy of John.

And that’s enough.

I’m in the cafe (I’ve typed “face” instead of “cafe” three times now) of a Borders at Providence Place Mall.  (Really nice mall, by the wall.)  John’s flight left almost an hour ago, and mine (for Duluth) doesn’t leave for another three hours, so rather than return the rental car and sit around in the airport, I figured I’d find a place with free wi-fi (not free at the airport) and hang out for a while.  Doing this.

Now I’m hungry and I need to call Dad (Happy Father’s Day, Dad!), so I’m gonna pack up my laptop.  It’ll be midnight or later before I make it to my hotel in Duluth, so this’ll be it for today.  Actually, I’ll be in Chicago for a couple or three hours, so if they have free wi-fi, I may be online again.  I’m sure you’ll manage either way. 

John and I drove through parts of Rhode Island we’ve never seen before on our way to and from Providence this afternoon.  We fell in love with Bristol and Barrington (those two towns just rose to the top of where we think we want to live) and, in an entirely different (much more rural and remote) way, with Little Compton.  The main problem we foresee with Little Compton (assuming we could work from home and/or a nearby storefront) is finding where to buy groceries.  We didn’t see a single grocery store in that town or the one just north of it.  There were a couple of very small markets (one seasonal and one that seemed to only carry milk and bread), but that was it.  Where do these people buy food?

The other day (which must have been yesterday, but feels like weeks ago already), John found a for-sale listing for retail space with an apartment above it just off Thames Street, and he took me by it on the way to work.  This morning, we decided to drop in to the real estate agency just to find out how much it’s going for.  We still want to own a used bookstore, and one way to keep costs down would be to own the building and live above the store, so it seems worthwhile to look into it.  We met an agent who understood what we were trying to do.  She didn’t try to push the expensive places on us or anything, and she wasn’t really pushing us to buy at all.  All we wanted to do was get an idea of space and see what’s available, what we might be able to afford, and if we might be happy living in an apartment again.  The short answer to that last one is probably not, not with dogs and not if we have any plans to add future family members.  But the experiment was successful.  We saw two places, both on the same street.  One had a smaller retail space (though nice), no yard at all, but two floors of living space above and a roof deck.  The apartment would need a lot of work to be nice, but it’s doable.  The second place was better.  There was more retail space, more interesting retail space (corners and turns, alcoves, a fireplace, etc), a little studio apartment behind the retail space with a back entrance that can connect to the upstairs apartment, a fenced in yard/patio (small, but cute), and upstairs was really nice.  Cathedral ceiling in the front room, with space for a table and a living area, a bay window, a (small) fireplace in the middle of the room, open on two sides, a breakfast area, a counter high enough for bar stools, and a completely redone kitchen (very nice), all new counters, cabinets (some with glass doors), appliances, etc.  The bedroom was fine, and the bathroom had a big whirlpool tub and two sinks.  There was another half-bath that was nice, too.  In short, it was a TOTALLY VERY AWESOME COOL building, and if John and I didn’t have two dogs and if we weren’t thinking about kids someday, we would reallyreallyreallyreally want this place.

But we do have dogs, and we do want kids, so I think we’ll rethink the whole living above a store thing and start looking at normal houses and renting retail space.  It’s not like this is going to happen immediately or anything.  John needs to finish his masters, we need jobs wherever it is we’d be going (or at least John would need a job), and we’ll need to figure out how we can sell our house without losing our shirts.  And, you know, our money. 

We got up early this morning (5-ish) to run in the fog (which was really cool), and then John drove me to work on his way to spend the day visiting houses he used to live in and old high school haunts.  Work was not bad, and the day didn’t go nearly as slow as expected, mainly because I had a very lively class.  Lots of good-natured heckling.  I’ll take that over a zombie class any day.

Once we got back to Newport (work was in Narragansett – and I’m done for the week! Yay!), we went for a walk, planning on going to the Redwood Library to look around.  Got distracted by the giant stone tower thing in Touro Park, and John said he remembered a plaque or sign or something saying it was built by vikings or something, but we couldn’t find the sign.  On our way back up to the library, we passed the Newport Tower Museum.  We were looking at the pictures and posters in the window, and I noticed a guy on the inside coming towards that window.  Before I knew it, he’d bounced outside to come talk to us.  It’s his museum, and he’s done research and written books on that tower, all while trying to figure out who really built it.  Apparently, there are a bunch of theories, but most don’t hold water (according to him).  Anyway, he took us back over to it and pointed out all kinds of interesting things about it.  Long story short: he got us interested in it and we’re going to visit his museum tomorrow and let him tell us all the stuff he found out.  And probably end up buying his book (or books).  It really was cool, and the guy was SO enthusiastic.

After that, though, we decided to put off the Redwood Library until tomorrow, and we headed down to Thames Street to the Brick Alley Pub for dinner.  Very good, just like we remembered, and then we walked.  And walked.  And walked.  Just because.  It felt like forever, and we both wanted to turn around and head back to our inn, but for some reason we kept going.  And when we finally turned around, it felt like we’d never get back.  Of course, we did, eventually, and I just mapped it.  It was only 2.5 miles.  So we’re wimps.  It’s not even that late, but we’re both really tired.  John says that’s because it’s been 40 hours since we got up this morning.  He’s probably right.

Go check out Curiosity.  She’s hilarious on the subject of her hearing loss (which I’m very sorry to hear about, but am delighted to read a post about).  (Does that make me insensitive?)

It should go without saying, since I link to practically all of her posts, but The Bloggess is one of the funniest people on the Internet.  Truly and consistently funny.  She made me laugh at almost every sentence of her post today, so, you know, go read.  And laugh.  I’m going to put my walked-out feet up and go to bed.

My run was too short this morning (I needed to make sure I’d have plenty of time to find the place I’m working at this week), but it was really nice.  Right around 60 degrees and overcast, with a breeze, so it was nice and cool, and I headed to the Cliff Walk to run.  Until I got there, I hadn’t noticed the ocean sounds, and then all of a sudden, I was looking down at a beach (waves and sand and everything!) and I could hear the surf hitting the rocks at the base of the cliff.  SO pleasant.  So it was a nice run.

On my way back from work, I drove in the way we used to come in, came down Broadway and around Washington Square, and then across Division Street to see our old apartment.  Looks exactly the same, even after nine years.  It could use a coat of paint, but I think it needed that when we lived there.  I climbed the stairs to my room (did I mention I’m on the 3rd floor of a bed and breakfast?), changed clothes, and went out for a walk.  I found myself on Spring Street (the wine store is still there, but I couldn’t find the breakfast place) and I got stopped by some guy on the sidewalk who asked me about my shirt.  I really need to stop wearing this one in public.  It says “Ask me about sustainability” across the front.  People do.  But this guy wouldn’t stop talking.  Forty-five minutes later, I continued my walk.  I ended up at The Black Pearl (the tavern side) for dinner, where I had one of the most delicious dishes I have ever eaten.  Scallops with bacon, mushrooms, and cream.  I don’t ever need to eat again.  I’m full up.  No more food needed.  After that, I was really glad I was walking.  And going uphill.  Exercise is good.  And when I made it to the top of the hill, my shirt (the “ask me about” part, anyway) prompted a couple to ask me for directions to The Red Parrot.  It was nice to be able to help them out.   (It helps that it’s kinda hard to miss AND I had just walked past it.)

Anyway, I’m back in my room and I want to go to bed.  The biggest decision I have to make is where I’m going to run tomorrow.

Where am I?

I won’t really make you guess, although I could start a weekly contest.  Guess where Zannah is this week and win a prize!

I’m going to keep this short since I have to work tomorrow morning and it’s already later than I’m comfortable with, but I have to say I’m glad I’m here.  I caught my first glimpse of the bridge and I felt like I was home.  Seems a little ridiculous to feel that strongly about a place I only spent six months in, and that was  nine years ago, but we were very happy here.

I had an okay dinner at a new pasta place just around the corner from Bellevue.  It’s right next to Dunkin Donuts, where I’ll most likely be picking up breakfast in the morning.  Tomorrow, anyway.  Hopefully after that, I can delay leaving long enough to manage breakfast here.  I am staying at a bed and breakfast.

Good night!

I’m home (yay), and I’m so glad, ’cause if I have to be this tired, I prefer to be home to deal with it.  My flight left Raleigh-Durham at 6:10 this morning.  Which meant I had to be at the airport at 5am.  Which means I had to have already returned my rental car, and that means I had to leave my hotel by 4:30.  So I got up at 3:30.  AM.  The very definition of the middle of the night.  And because I’m not all that bright, I didn’t go to bed until almost 10 last night.  I slept like a rock who didn’t want to wake up when the alarm went off.  But the low-level anxiety I always feel about getting to the airport on time forced me to be alert enough to make sure I didn’t leave anything in the hotel, drive to the airport (which was only 5 exits away), and return the car.  Once I got to the terminal, though, I started to fade.  I got an iced vanilla chai (my favorite) and a croissant at Starbucks and read my book until boarding.  Fun fact about Raleigh-Durham International: there’s a used bookstore right next to the Starbucks!  Great idea for an airport concourse.

I got my second wind (sort of) once I got on the plane, and I had a pleasant conversation with the guy sitting next to me for about half the flight, mostly about TV shows.

Him: Did you watch Lost?

Me: Yeah.  Do you think about that every time you get on a plane?

Him: Yup.  And we’re in the tail section.  We’re doomed.

From there we covered The Unusuals (should never have been canceled), which led to Firefly (tragically canceled), which led to everything Nathan Fillion has ever been in, which led to Castle, which is his new favorite show now that Lost is over.  And I may have to agree.  I love Castle.  Anyway, he was a nice guy, and it was a pleasant flight.

My third wind (I napped a little on the plane) got me home and to the dry cleaners, and then through my run and my shower, but when I tried to leave the house (around 1:30) to get my car inspected and renew the dogs’ licenses, I had to turn the car around and go back home (I made that decision at the bottom of the hill – not far from the house).  I napped for an hour (and woke up feeling like seven more would be a good idea) and then took care of the dogs and the licenses.  Now I’m home, fighting to stay awake so I’ll sleep normally tonight.  Looks like I don’t get a fourth wind.  But this is helping.

No, that doesn’t have the same ring to it.  Besides, it’d be more accurate to say I drove around Duke and went to the Sarah P. Duke Gardens.  Which were gorgeous.  And huge.  I think I’d need three full days, with nothing else going on, to get through the whole place.  And a map.  I got lost in one section and still didn’t manage to see that whole part.  Some of it is landscaped and manicured and tidily beautiful.  Some of it (the part I got lost in) looks more like wilderness, like you’re out hiking on a trail far from anywhere, and not mere yards away from a main road crossing Duke’s campus.  Everything is labeled, and there are areas with signs that talk about endangered plant life.  Very educational.  I’d come back here (to Durham) just to explore the gardens a little more.  I guess I could have done that this evening, but I’m leaving ridiculously early tomorrow morning, and I feel better knowing I’m mostly packed already.  I need to leave the hotel around 4:30 tomorrow morning, maybe a little earlier, so I think staying in tonight was a good call to make.

Pictures?  Okay.

While I was lost (but before I knew I was lost), I went over that bridge, down some stone steps, and then nearly ran into a tree. But I got a nice picture out of it.

These steps. I didn't take a picture of the tree I almost ran into.

How awesome is that? There were benches everywhere, in all sorts of wonderful nooks and crannies, and if I lived anywhere near here, I'd spend lots of lazy afternoons reading in the shade.

I half-expected to see swans glide across this pond.

This little cottage (not accurate, but sounds nicer than shelter) overlooks the pond.

Seriously?  I want this place in my backyard.  Then there was the manicured part. With paths…

…and families.

Bridges…

…and a bride.

And flowers…

Lots of flowers.  And I didn’t even see a third of the place.

Or Durham.  Or Chapel Hill.  Or wherever the hell I am.  It’s not any better where I live, but I know my way around there.  I found dinner, I found Kroger, and I found my way back to my hotel.  I haven’t yet found where I can run around here, but that can wait until tomorrow.  I’ll start out in the hotel fitness center and then ask people who live around here.  When I meet them.  Which will happen in class tomorrow.

It’s entirely too quiet here, so I’m going to turn on the radio, read my book, and try to settle down and sleep.  The class I’m teaching tomorrow has a focus I haven’t really taught yet, so I’m not as comfortable with it.  Meaning I’m not as relaxed as I’d like to be.  A bath may be in my future.  Once I find a radio station I like.

The traveling part of this trip was totally uneventful (aside from some turbulence during the flight), no talkative seatmates, and it was surprisingly easy to find my hotel, so I’ve got nothing good to share tonight.  But I’m wireless!  Yay!  Here’s to posting from bed!  Maybe tomorrow. 

There should be a name for the night before you go on a trip.  We’ve got Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve, Erev all kinds of things for Jewish holidays, and I think there should be a word for the night before other big events.  First Day of School Eve.  First Day of New Job Eve.  Wedding Eve.  And Traveling Eve.  Or maybe Trip Eve.  With subsets for Vacation Eve and Business Trip Eve.  There’s always so much to do, and I think those nights should be recognized.  Maybe it’ll catch on.

So I’m traveling tomorrow (I bet you’re totally surprised by that), and I’m not actually doing anything right now to prepare for the trip.  Except for laundry.  But I feel like I’m always doing laundry.  I have everything I need, so I can pack tomorrow and not worry about it for now.

In the meantime, I want to finish my book (it’s a hardcover, and I’d rather not carry it on the plane, but it’s good and I don’t want to start something else yet) and mope around with John for the evening.  We’ve decided that’s what we feel like doing.  Moping can be fun when you don’t have to do it alone.

My neighborhood was Grand Central Station for bunnies this morning.  I’d forgotten about that aspect of spring, so when I took the dogs for a run this morning (for the first time in more than two months, I think), I wasn’t prepared for their reaction.  Nearly got my arms yanked off.  Over and over and over again.

I am looking forward to tomorrow.  Very much.  I asked for the day off a couple of weeks ago, just because (and also because I thought I’d need the escape since I was convinced I would be less than a month from unemployment by this week), and earlier this week I thought about not taking the day off and just going to work anyway, but then my boss reminded me that this was meant to be an easy week for us trainers (to give us a break from all the stressful traveling) and I don’t have anything to do, so why not take it?  I saw her point.  So now I have plans for tomorrow.  Plans to run, to get a mani/pedi, to get my very first ever massage, and to buy a new suitcase.  Almost in that order.  I need a new suitcase…do I?  Well, yeah, I do.  The one I’ve been using (big, rectangular, purple, on wheels) is coming apart at the seams.  I have another rolling bag, but it’s more of a rolling duffel and I have to travel with some stuff for work that wouldn’t fit very well in that.  I could borrow John’s (and I will if I don’t find something pretty easily tomorrow), but eventually, I’ll need one of my own.  I’m putting too much thought into this.

Hamburgers tonight!

I bought a donut today.  The woman asked me if I wanted a receipt.  I said yes, and I think you know why.

I’m in the airport now, waiting for the plane to arrive.  It’s a day early (me going home, not the plane – I’m sure the plane will be right on time (Okay, no, it won’t, but it won’t be a day early.)), and because it’s work-related, I don’t think it’s a good idea if I go into why I get to go home early.  But it’s not bad news or anything.  So, you know, nothing to worry about.

I had the BEST airport food when I got here.  I know, crazy, right?  Well, it’s not really airport food any more than any other restaurant in an airport is airport food, but still.  UFood Grill.  I’ve never heard of it, but there’s one near my gate and I got my lunch there.  It was GOOD.  (I just checked locations and they do seem to be mostly located in airports, so I guess I was right to characterize it as airport food.)  I had the Chopstick Chicken Bowl, which is chicken, broccoli, and carrots in a teriyaki thai chili sauce, all over steamed brown rice.  Spicy.  And good.  And healthy!  (Not greasy, for real.  I watched them make it.)  What a surprise.

I’ll be home in less than three hours, and I get to stay home for a whole week.  More than that!  Yay!

A few links to keep you entertained while I fly home:

The dishwasher was cold.  She cracks me up.

Jess found a baby chicken cam (similar to the puppy cam from a few years ago).  Go!  Look!  Melt into a puddle from all the cutesy cuteness!  (And while you’re there, steal her recipes for homemade strawberry ice cream and arugula pesto.)