Sweet

Inspirational song: A Spoonful of Sugar (Mary Poppins)

How empty was my life before I found cleaning videos on YouTube. There is nothing finer than watching stuff get steamed or pressure washed. I turned my neighbor on to these videos after we watched the Fellowship of the Ring. I showed her both Detail Geek and the Polish guy who cleans area rugs. I haven't heard confirmation that she kept watching after I left, but she seemed pretty invested Friday night. My money says she did watch more of them.

I went over to the kids' house, to try and entertain the baby while they sorted out stuff in the garage to get rid of, before they get a new couch and chair (the old ones went in the garage until they can dispose of them properly.) I just didn't have a whole lot of energy to keep up with a strong, squirmy baby. I made it about two hours, mostly with the Grump in her bouncy chair, feeding her peanut butter poofs while 101 Dalmatians played on the TV above her. But eventually she got cranky as nap time approached, and I couldn't hang on to her well enough to get her calmed to sleep. I had to turn her over to her parents, and I headed home to rest.

I had planned to meet with my son-in-law on Friday to discuss the character I am developing to play in a game he designed. We each needed to postpone. I had promised to pick up some cinnamon rolls from my favorite all gluten free bakery for us to snack on while we talked. Now that our make-up date is for Monday, and the bakery is closed on Mondays, I decided to make my own. I had a recipe I made myself, but I'm not sure where the notebook I wrote it in ended up. Instead I used the yeast dough recipe I found for jelly donuts (specifically the Hanukkah kind). The dough was really wet, and I ended up adding a bunch of extra flour to make it where I could roll it out. I've left them rising overnight, in the baking dish in the fridge. I have no idea whether this will actually work, but I feel like it has a chance. Will bake in the morning, and maybe make a toffee glaze to pour over the top. I'm totally going to let the Grumpus taste some, even if I have to carefully pick out the pecan pieces, so she and her three teeth can manage them.

Now I'm back to car detailing pictures. Best way to fall asleep, ever.

Staying Home

Inspirational song: Louisiana Saturday Night (Mel McDaniel)

Are Saturday nights still a thing? Do people still save up their entertainment opportunities for the weekends, now that time has no meaning? Technically it was movie night here, but while we have been on our mission to watch all Marvel movies (Infinity War this time), a lot of nights are movie nights. Long before large congregations of people became an unwise proposition, I had stopped going out on weekends. The bar and club scenes were never my style. I can't imagine wanting to do that now. 

Our baby came over to visit again. Her parents needed some time to clean house and we are always ready to step in and cuddle with our Grumpus. It was a good time, filled with baby jokes, snacks, naps, and bath time. (I may have let her eat a whole strawberry, and then needed to launder her pink-stained shirt after.) There isn't much new to report, other than the emergence of her third tooth and the expansion of the series of sounds she makes. Not necessarily new letters, but long combinations of the known ones. She seems a lot bigger all of a sudden, too. She's taller and sturdier. All that she is waiting on to be a legit toddler is to actually toddle across the floor under her own power.

Most of the camera work I did today was with video. There were only a few new stills of the cutest baby in all of Colorado.

Speak, Friend

Inspirational song: Misty Mountain Hop (Led Zeppelin)

Pretty sure it is a hard and fast rule among my people, that every year, sometimes more often than that, it is obligatory to review the major movie series in their entirety. This year of staying home has necessitated going through more of them than usual. The Mr and I are nearly through the Marvel movies. Infinity War is next. Last year, with T, we watched all of the Star Wars major releases, in time-line order. And this week, when T said he felt the need to start the Lord of the Ring movies, naturally we said yes. Heck, I immediately started asking what he wanted me to bring for dinner. (For the record, it was Frito pies.) For dessert, he crossed genres and made highly alcoholic butterbeer. Perhaps that should stand as a hint what series will follow in the spring.

It took me two full days of decompressing to crack open my laptop, and submit the last of my closing package. Hopefully it is complete, and I can get paid soon. If I hadn't needed so much time to rest, my commission would probably already be in my account. My own fault.

I'm typing during the Fellowship of the Ring. I haven't actually seen this one in many years. I'd rather pay attention than write. I'm done now.

Pain in the Butt

Inspirational song: Heart of Glass (Blondie)

Results from yesterday's MRI came in pretty quickly. I had a message from my rheumatologist on the portal by early afternoon. Apparently sometime late last year, I partially tore the gluteus minimus tendon, and there is associated bursitis. Well, I guess that is better than learning of damage to the bones, which would be harder to rehab? She wants me to do physical therapy, but I think this means making a detour through my primary care doctor for the actual referral. Insurance is just so much fun. Until that is sorted out, ice and rest appear to be the recommendation of Dr Google.

Rest I'm good at. Ice is not my favorite, but I will tolerate it. I spent most of today decompressing from how anxious the condo sale made me. Basically, I was a worthless slug today, and I have zero guilt over it. I'll be better behaved tomorrow, I have to assume. It is acceptable to ditch responsibility for only so long.

I do not own tonight's image. The website that does own it is named on the picture. I looked up where the gluteus minimus tendon is, and sure enough, that is exactly where it has been hurting for the last five or six months. Wish I could remember an incident that caused a tear. I don't. But as my daughter reminded me, repetitive motion from my unstable, hypermobile joints could have been enough to do it. As they say often over on disability Twitter, gosh, bodies are awesome.

And It's Gone

Inspirational song: Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (Elton John)

Cursed to the end. The condo buyers had their final walk through at 8 this morning. By 10 after, I was getting texts. The garage door was refusing to raise. I had to pull Mr S-P out of the hot tub and send him to Boulder to set the tension on the door opener to basically zero, so it would raise. While there, he got the final utility meter reading and picked up our lock box. I held my breath and waited for the emails to come through saying that the buyers had finished their closing. Mid-morning, the documents came through. It's done! The sale is final!

We waited a few more hours for the net profits to hit our bank account. When it did, I got a text from the Mr saying he could count on one finger how many times he had that much money in his checking account. He made a few jokes about running off to be wildly irresponsible with it, but then tonight over our game table, he handed me a piece of paper with the payoff amount for this house. He will make that wire transfer first thing in the morning, and to quote Garth Brooks, we shall be free! 

I still need to turn in the rest of my paperwork before I see my commission from it. I did as much as I could focus on today. My concentration is spotty thanks to this latest inflamed joint, but I'm pushing through it. I went for an MRI across town at 7 this evening, through the snowstorm that dropped on us like a hammer. Lying still on a hard table inside a tube, with my arms over my head, made me extra stiff and achy, and by the time I got home, I had no intention of cracking open the laptop to finish filing. Tomorrow is soon enough.

It wasn't until I was in the MRI, getting blasted by science (as a friend called it), that it really started to hit me that it is all done. What a relief!

Nearly There

Inspirational song: Come On Get Happy (The Partridge Family)

Oh, happy day! We signed our names over and over this morning, each time getting closer to the moment when the condo is passed along to the next owners. By lunchtime tomorrow, we should be free of it, out from under the mortgage for it, and soon thereafter, out from under the mortgage for our actual residence too. Buying real estate during the dips works, yo. 

The title agent I chose to sell our own property was a very good friend from Rotary. It was lovely to see her since the group has been only meeting on Zoom for nearly a year, so we haven't had a conversation over lunch in all that time. I usually shared a table with her and the mortgage broker (now retired) who brought me into the club in the first place. Oddly enough, as we were sitting in the car, about to leave, that very mortgage broker (retired) walked up to the door of the title agency. We called out and got her attention, and visited with her for a few minutes. I am brimming with joy over seeing two of my best Tuesday lunch dates in person one after another. It makes it feel like a real life is still out there, just waiting to spring back for us all.

I am feeling pretty good inside. Well, not in my right hip that is still inflamed (MRI tomorrow). But emotionally, I'm hopeful. The biggest financial stressor of the last six months is about to be resolved, as soon as the buyers sign in Boulder, a few hours from now. People I know are getting vaccinated. I even know people who have had both doses. I'll get it eventually, when they finally call my name. Daily case numbers are declining steeply, and daily death rates are easing down. Soon being out without a mask won't make me feel nervous or like a wretch when I forget to put it on fast enough. And I get to look forward to watching my two excessively silly girls grow up together. Of course I'm happy right now.

Ready or Not

Inspirational song: Estonia (Marillion)

Exactly twelve hours from when this writing begins, we will be signing away the condo. Today I compiled all of my documentation for the requested repairs and sent it to the buyer's agent. Receipts for cleaning and servicing, photos of repairs and replacement items, and two short video clips proving the garage door safety reverse works properly. Late last night they accepted our offer to comp them an extra $500 toward closing costs to make up for us not knowing the fireplace was cracked and warped. The Mr suspects they didn't try to negotiate us higher because their realtor clued them in that we didn't actually have to offer anything, since the deadline for inspection termination had passed. What we gave was more for our karma than anything.

I went over this evening to gather the last of the little items I had left for use during the time on the market, like the side table with masks and gloves, the soap and towels, and my signs. I ran the steam mop once more, even though most of the footprints throughout were theirs from Saturday (with their contractor who suggested he could fix the fireplace). It is as good as it is going to get. I whispered goodbye to it as I leaned in to shut off the light for the last time. I will go tomorrow morning to get my lock box after their final walk through, and it will be done. 

For all the stress it has been over the years, especially recently, it was a good place overall: a good place for my kids to live in, and a triumph for my spirit to have been able to own real estate inside the city of Boulder, considering how dirt poor we were when we left it two and a half decades ago. It served its purpose, and now I am happy to pass it to someone else.

Jam Packed

Inspirational song: Immigrant Song (Led Zeppelin)

As big days packed with fun go, this one was as full as we could handle it. Naturally that means that I overdid it, and am just hoping to make a dozen or so coherent sentences, so I can take a muscle relaxer and be done for the night.

Saoirse's last day of middle school was this afternoon. She needed to perform a set of tasks in order to graduate. I was very nervous about how she would do, especially since she has been extra squirrely for a week, leading me to Google how to tell whether a puppy is having her first heat. (Not sure we are there, but it might be close.) I am proud to report that despite lots of wiggling and teasing of the boys in class, when it came time to perform her tests, she was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect. Roscoe still had her beat today. But for all that she was going through hormonally, she outperformed our expectations. 

Ahead of the last class, I gave her a bath, which involved damaged old me picking up a 60 pound dog three times, the last time to return the already-wet puppy to the tub she had just escaped. She didn't appreciate getting clean, but she sure is soft and snuggly now. I had to go over her paws with a washcloth after she went out back, in the giant mud pit that is left between melting snow and a dog who runs his wheelchair over every struggling blade of grass, crushing the life from them. Other than that, I've managed to keep her clean for twelve hours. A new record, I think.

Today was Mr S-P's birthday (as well as his brother's). We have learned not to overwhelm him with parties and gifts, as per his wishes. However, the kids did come over and got quality daddy/grandpa time with him, including a walk around the neighborhood while puppy and I were at class. I made dinner while the baby kept him entertained. I made the mistake of baking both the cake and a bunch of sweet potatoes at the same time in my tiny oven. It meant that the part of the cake that was above the dish of sweet potatoes didn't cook right, and when I pulled it out to cool, we coined a new term, perfect for birthdays during the pandemic: depression cake. On my son-in-law's suggestion, once the cake was frosted, I filled in the sagging pit of despair with whipped cream and strawberries, making it the "pond of coping mechanisms."

Debris

Inspirational song: Fly Away (Lenny Kravitz)

Mr S-P went flying today. He has gained access to a small plane that is kept at the Boulder Airport, and he is trying to brush up on his skills that have gotten a little rusty over the years. I stayed home, taking it easy after cleaning the condo yesterday. 

So when I saw a photo on Twitter of airplane parts on a Colorado soccer field, right about the time he was up in the air, I immediately started chasing down details, in a tiny bit of a panic. It was a bit of a relief to learn the parts were from the housing of a passenger jet engine, not a tiny private plane. But the much (MUCH) bigger relief was to learn that as of tonight, there have been zero reports of injuries, either from the people on the plane that lost an engine, or over several miles of Broomfield where the debris landed.

The first photos I had seen were giant chunks of the plane that had landed on the soccer field at Broomfield Commons. This is a place I know well. My BFF lived right next to it. Every time I came back to Colorado from wherever we were stationed, I stayed with her. She and her family sold that house a few years ago, and moved out of state, but they still know people in the neighborhood. So I screenshotted a map and showed my family how close it was to their old place. Mr S-P looked at what I had circled on the map, and realized that the biggest bit of debris, a big circle off the front of the engine called a "nacelle," landed just a couple of blocks from another of our friends. He texted her to see whether she saw anything, and found that she had been in her basement, completely unaware that the sky was falling all around her.

Nearly Out

Inspirational song: We Gotta Get Out of This Place (The Animals)

After decades of moving around every one to three years, I can say with absolute authority, the last week before you vacate a house for the last time is the worst. There is nothing like the feeling of seeing the finish line approaching, but being very aware of the hurdles yet to clear before you can cross it. I am starting to realize the same dread applies when it's trying to get loose from a property where you never lived, which has sat clean and empty for six months. I never imagined it would be so hard to escape, yet here I am.

We went to the condo for the penultimate cleaning and repair session. While I finished cleaning the windows and screens, and swept and steam mopped the floors, Mr S-P replaced weather stripping on the front door, put a filter cartridge in the bathroom vent, and patched the drywall in the garage that has been damaged since we bought the place ten years ago. There really isn't much left, but I am not going to declare us done until I cross-check the list of contracted repairs, and send the relevant receipts to the buyers. While I'm doing that, I need to go through my required paperwork, and make sure my file at the office is complete, save for the closing documents. (I've put that last one off for lack of mental spoons.)

The buyers are going by in the morning with a contractor who has raised their hopes about repairing the fireplace. I have my doubts he can work a miracle, but I'm keeping my negative energy away from their transaction. I just wonder what sort of concession they will expect from us on this. I've made an offer, which technically I didn't have to provide at all, and waiting to hear their response is just about killing me. I just want the next four days to go quickly, so I can get to the good part of turning over the key and watching my bank account recover a bit.

Sorry, the only pictures for today were documenting that we indeed replaced the vent cartridge, and where the backups were placed. My camera was busy being our radio for the duration of our work.

Bent

Inspirational song: Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning (Willie Nelson)

Even though there is a long-standing Red River rivalry between Oklahoma and Texas, at times like this week, my heart goes out to all the folks in the area, no matter which side of Lake Texoma they live on. I've spent years acclimating to the cold. My house is well-insulated. I generally don't worry about my pipes freezing. Can't say the same about the people across the old country who are struggling with record cold. It sounds like power is being restored to much of Texas now, but there will be weeks, maybe months, of recovery yet to come. Good luck, cousins to the south. You've been through the wringer with this.

I got to see my favorite doctor today. I check in with her every three months, and the last time was via zoom. I like being with her in person much more. We continued our conversation about hypermobility that I started last time, and as we chatted, she walked around me, hyper-extending my elbows, checking to see how far my pinkies bent back (and she probably noticed I didn't yelp when she did), and moving other things. I volunteered showing my double-jointed knees and touching my thumbs to my forearms. I think if I had been barefoot, I could have flattened the heels of my hands on the floor when I bent over. As it was, only 90% of my hands were palming the floor. The result of this exercise was she now says she is comfortable confirming hypermobility. However, she does not diagnose Ehlers-Danlos (apparently that is the realm of geneticists?), but I'm not worried about that. Mostly I wanted the diagnosis I got, so that when things go wonky I can just say, "oh, yeah, that's a thing that happens," and not waste time and money chasing down mysteries that regular doctors can't solve. That said, she is interested in imaging my hip that just won't stop hurting, the one the doctor at Tinker AFB told me in 2002 "just goes out." Putting all of the above together might finally explain what he meant by that. 

As a side note, they checked my height as well as weight today. Weight reflected months of stress eating over the holidays. Yeah, whatever. Height, though... Am I old enough to already have lost 7/8 of an inch? It read 5' 6 1/8". That was humbling. Older daughter teased me that soon Valerie will be taller than me. I guess I always wished I were shorter, back when I was younger and feeling self-conscious about wearing heels when my dates weren't very tall. Now I mostly wear Chucks or Vans, and I don't care who is taller than I am. It's about to be everyone, at this rate.

Accursed

Inspirational song: I Want to Break Free (Queen)

The Cursed Condo strikes again. We hired a chimney sweep to clear another item on our inspection resolution punch list. We arrived this morning, Saoirse in tow, and had a chance to get inside and look around before they arrived. The Mr needed to run to the hardware store for a tiny part to fix the garage door once and for all, leaving me and the puppy to wait for the chimney sweep. There has been the same pile of wood stacked in the fireplace for ages, I think since the tenant before the last one. I started pulling it out, shaking off some black soot crumbs as I did.

The guys arrived, and laid down a blanket to protect the floor. They set up a light, and immediately said oh, this fireplace is damaged. Probably not usable again. Did I still want to go ahead with the cleaning? I said yes, I'd rather they did the job, as I was required to have it by contract. They explained the damage to me. Someone built too big of a fire, I assume more than once, and it warped out the steel reflector sides and cracked the masonry back and base. Once I could see it with light, it was clear as day how bad it was.

I had no idea it was like this. I'm not sure I would have known what I was looking at without a professional explanation. I think I know which tenant did this. My daughter had to have it cleaned while she was living there and we were out of state, when the HOA sent notices around to get it done. No one told her of damage. The tenants who followed were younger, three kids economizing by sharing sharing place. They seemed like the type who would try to save money on utilities by heating the whole house with the fireplace. 

So now that I know about this problem, it has become a material fact. Before I even left the condo I wrote the buyer's realtor, letting them know what we discovered. If they demand another concession, even though we are past inspection objection and resolution, we aren't even going to fight it. We just want this to end. 

Seated

Inspirational song: Antmusic (Adam and the Ants)

Generally our family tries to do the right thing for the planet. We recycle. We use only LED lights. We set the thermostat a few degrees toward the low side. And we are spending big bucks to install solar panels on the house as soon as the rig is designed (professionally). But there is one line I have been dragged across in the past, against my will, and I have firmly placed myself back on the less environmentally conscious side. I dislike cloth diapers. In fact, dislike is such a lukewarm term, considering my past experience with them. I hated using them on my own babies. They smelled horrible, they were a pain to wash properly, and they trapped moisture next to skin, leaving rashes. But back in those days, I was pushed into using them both by my hippie husband and by our meager bank balances. The few times I got to use disposable diapers on the kids were such a huge relief to me. 

Now my daughter is experimenting with them on her own accord. I am trying not to influence her one way or another. It's a personal family choice, and they have to do what they feel is best for them. But I've told them I just don't have the energy to deal with them when the baby is here. That's the God's honest truth. While they were visiting today, they learned another one of the drawbacks to cloth diapers: leaks. That poor kid had two complete outfit changes and a bath while she was here. Conveniently, they were here to do laundry, while they wait for their (new!) dryer to be repaired. There were clothing options.

I spent a lot of time watching that baby like a hawk, thinking that any second she would let go and stand under her own power. I took long videos, imagining I would capture an actual first step. No such luck. Baby is strong and advancing her balance, but as yet, no early walking.

Brrr

Inspirational song: Memory (Cats)

Everybody on the news is talking about this "generational cold snap" and here all I can think about is exclaiming "snow in Southtown?!" as if it were scandalous. Okay, not really stuck on The Year Without a Santa Claus, but the video clips of snow in Texas do make me think that. They keep referencing the winter of 1989 as the last time it was this cold, this far south. I was living in Oklahoma at the time, in the house I grew up in, having come home from college to have my first daughter. I remember that cold snap. My temporary bedroom was in the original farm house section of our place, in the part built in 1908. (I wasn't using my upstairs childhood room, on account of being hugely pregnant and then having a newborn, and wanting to avoid stairs.) That house was not what one could call well-insulated. It was as drafty as a barn, and heated with gas floor furnaces. I tried to be brave in front of all my high school friends, having just gotten accustomed to Colorado winters, and they were not amused at me insisting single digit temperatures weren't so bad. Yes, I clearly remember that cold snap.

I have a few things I need to get around to when the temperatures pop above freezing again. We have a few repairs left at the condo to finish before closing. It's hard to patch a hole in drywall in an unheated garage when it is this cold. Also, if I don't get that dog a bath soon, I'm gonna have to stop snuggling with her. I guess dogs go through stinky teenage hormonal funk too. I've never raised a girl puppy through this age before.

The kids pulled out the electric blankets they had in storage, and let the baby experience one today. Word is she took to it like a champ. My older daughter has said for years that her dog Sheba knows how to punch the button to turn on her heated throw blanket. I bet it will be less than a week before the grandbaby does the same.

Kill the Wabbit

Inspirational song: Fox on the Run (Sweet)

Yesterday I mentioned how my grandbaby is teething, and is having periods of unrest over it. She is not the only girl in the family struggling to control her mouth these days. Saoirse has gone from puppy with teeth growing in to teenager with the deep need to chew everything to bits. This weekend she ripped the Deadpool toy off of the back of his unicorn, and tore him to pieces, ate the rainbow mane off of another unicorn, and shredded a fox cat toy. I know it is a phase, and she will probably only be in it a few months, although it is possible it will last a year or more. I've been generous with the pork hide twists, because I'd rather go through bags of those than start losing shoes or furniture. I bought a giant bag of beef rawhides barely bigger than a cigarette, back when she was a little puppy. I should have given her more of them when they were the right size for her, because now I have tons left. I gave her a few yesterday, and she went through them too fast. She swallowed too big a piece, and started gagging on it. I don't think she will get any more of the little ones.

The second to last intermediate training class was today. Three dogs, including mine, were squirrely and had trouble focusing until near the end of class, and the fourth--Roscoe--was totally on point. Before we left the store, I took her over to pick out what I thought would be a brilliant solution to her chewing needs. They had a section with toys made of "real firehose." That sounds tough, right? I got a rabbit and a fox the same deep red as the Deadpool and the cat toy she killed on Saturday.

I gave her both toys when we got home. She turned her nose up at the fox, but the lighter, higher squeaker in the rabbit caught her attention. We went off and watched the next in our Marvel movies in timeline order series (we are up to Guardians of the Galaxy 2), and didn't think much about why she wasn't between us on the bed during the movie. The Mr got up to let all the dogs go out for a potty break, and when he came back, he tossed the rabbit on the bed. One torn ear and both legs gone, in about three hours. Wow. I can't decide whether to declare the firehose material insufficient, or just right, because she obviously enjoyed the process of destroying it. Good thing they were buy-one-get-one-50%-off.

Grandpa Day

Inspirational song: O-O-H Child (The Five Stairsteps)

Nope. Baby had way too much energy. She had to spend most of the day with her grandpa. I tried keeping up in the morning, but by noon I was used up. When she napped, I napped. When she woke, I was blissfully unaware. I tried holding her a few times, tried to convince her to pay attention to Wall-E on my TV. Didn't work. I did not have the grandma ju-ju today.

More's the pity that I didn't have enough go juice. That baby is growing and developing so fast, and it is still fun, even if it was hard for this old woman to keep pace. We got more of the maniacal laughter. I saw a full two seconds of standing without holding that involved a partial squat and stand. Unfortunately, she also is waist-deep in teething. She had some cranky pain for part of the day. Still glad she was here.

I am not sure whether we get more baby time tomorrow. If so, I will need to be a little more aggressive with my own pain management, and maybe zip out to the grocery store for some Anbesol. 

Kid

Inspirational song: Life in a Northern Town (The Dream Academy)

A Boulder journalist I follow posted a Colorado weather bingo card this morning. By the time I saw it over my second cup of coffee, we had already managed to tick off a few boxes, based on our conversation and who we are. We had already said, "we need the moisture," based on how little snow we have gotten so far this winter, we have often compared our temperature to another location, I frequently take photos of "dogs/tiny humans in snow," and as a general rule, my husband is "that one guy in shorts" no matter the weather. This evening we had a discussion about Kyle Clark's basement (the fire itself, not the firewood supply -- if you know, you know), and to finish off a bingo, I screenshotted the weather app just now. I love it when it gets cold like this, but I like it more when there is a ton of snow. For once, I'm jealous of predicted snow totals where my parents live in Oklahoma. We are supposed to get maybe four inches over days. They might get three times that.

My baby came by for a visit when her mommy got off of work. They wanted to meet our guest before she left this evening. Sometime in the last week, the baby has jumped miles forward in her communication skills. She is suddenly making more vowel and consonant sounds, and she's copying the things we are saying to her. Wednesday her daddy filmed her laughing in response to him, both of them making funny, sarcastic noises and faces. We have each replayed that video multiple times. It sounds like a movie villain laugh. Who doesn't love that?

Grumpus looks a lot less like a baby and a lot more like a kid now. She was a beautiful infant, but she is an absolutely riveting toddler. I'm utterly fascinated with her. Every interaction is a chance to teach her new things, and she is the smartest little sponge. She soaks up all the new information, and reveals aspects that we aren't even aware we are teaching. Man, this is fun! Lately, I get so wrapped up in taking videos of her that I forget to take still pictures to share of her. I have to go begging for them. Thankfully, she loves being in front of a camera lens.

One On One

Inspirational song: Blue (Da Ba Dee) (Eiffel 65)

A week and a half ago, Saoirse and I missed class. It was totally my fault, not hers. Today we had our make-up session. It was one-on-one with the instructor, and in the confined space, I was able to work her off-leash. Not sure whether it was the focused attention or the feeling of being respected enough not to use a leash, but she did remarkably well. She did exactly what she was asked, and handled distractions like a pro. I was so proud. I made use of my time with the instructor too, touching on topics we would never have gotten to with three or four other puppies in the room. I have a path and a plan on how to teach her a skill I decided we really needed for the future. Time will tell whether I can follow instructions well enough to get there with her.

The guest we thought we would have yesterday came late tonight. We are mostly providing free hotel space for an acquaintance of the Mr's. This person was traveling up through the mountains, and needed a place to stay before heading farther north to home. We stayed up even later, talking. I wish I had the energy of a younger person, because I am about ready to conk out after a long day of cooking, cleaning, and training. And honestly, I didn't do as much as I should have. Still, I was enjoying the conversation, until my body and brain conspired to propel me to bed.

I just hope I haven't made myself so tired that I won't be able to sleep. Yes, this is possible. It happens a lot. I'm worried it is going to happen now.

Get It Done

Inspirational song: Breathe (Pink Floyd)

Please, oh elusive Muse, please let this post flow quickly. I need to be asleep sooner than later. We had to be in Boulder right about the time I normally hurl myself out of bed. (I wake earlier, but rarely try to stumble around before 8.) Among all of the asks on the inspection objection list, the Buyers insisted the furnace be cleaned and serviced. We met the HVAC guy at the condo a few minutes after 8. It took a whole lot longer to clean than I expected, but it felt like we got our money's worth, and at least now it is done. 

I had to skip out before the guy was done, thinking my botox appointment, which was on the other side of Boulder, would be super quick. Instead, I sat in the exam room for almost half an hour, waiting for my turn with the neurologist, and felt like an absolute heel as I raced back to the condo to pick up the Mr. I didn't mean to leave him for so long in a place with no furniture or wifi.

We thought we were going to have an overnight guest tonight, so rather than kicking back and watching the Senate trial on TV, I turned the sound up and set about trying to clean my dusty disaster of a spare room. By the time I was too tired to stand up or even breathe anymore, I had put away all but the load of laundry I just pulled from the dryer, I had uncovered and stripped the bed, getting the bedding in the washer, and I had filled a plastic grocery bag to bursting with craft debris, clothing price tags, and dust bunnies. It's the best that room has looked since the last time my older daughter was here, and that was so long ago, I don't dare admit to when she was actually here. I still need to clean other rooms, as this guest may come tomorrow instead, but I'm feeling remarkably productive. And tired. Mostly tired.

The Next National Moment

Inspirational song: Ramblin' Man (The Allman Brothers Band)

Once upon a time, life was too busy for entertainment. I worked too many hours, and had extensive obligations raising two daughters. I have significantly more time on my hands now to pay attention to common cultural events. I listen to some popular music, I watch the hottest Netflix series, I use current slang, and I understand a respectable portion of internet memes. I no longer feel like I'm in a pop culture black hole. 

Thus even if I didn't have a specific interest in this week's feed from DC, I would probably be watching anyway, too keep up with what the cool kids are talking about on Twitter. It started right before my weekly Rotary meeting was supposed to start, and I looked deep into myself, and knew I could never focus on the meeting, knowing this was going on. Instead of setting up the tripod for zoom, I raised the adjustable base on my bed, to make it more like a recliner, and settled in to watch the s-show.

Some of the speeches were really good. I'm specifically thinking of what a revelation the Representative from here is. His bearing and delivery were surprisingly flawless. I miss out being in his district by a distance so small, even I with my poor health could walk to it. (I remember going through the caucus process and county convention when he first got the nomination, when I had no idea who he was. He has impressed me at every moment since then.) Some of the speeches were, ah, not good. They will go down in history as some of the weirdest legal orations. I watched and read Twitter at the same time, wondering if everyone else was seeing this, or was I having a stroke. No stroke. No burnt toast smell. Just men rambling and reciting poems. I decided I needed chocolate to get through it, and ended up digging out one of the brownies I had saved in the freezer for emergencies. When it was all over, I flattened out the bed and napped until my brain recovered from absorbing the livestream of weird. At least there are tons of Americans who saw it the way I did. In that we all digitally looked at each other and asked, "What was that?"

Genuine Baby

Inspirational song: The Weight (The Band)

There is no way that hulking puppy only weighs 57 pounds. How is that possible? She is taller and longer than Elsa, and her head is distinctly chunkier. But then, while we were at the vet getting weighed (and moved up to the large-dog size of heartworm preventative), I asked the doc to take a look and make sure she wasn't too skinny for her size and age. They said she was fine, and made an aborted attempt to talk me out of a grain-free diet (she didn't push once I made it clear the diet is for me not Saoirse, since she rolls all over my bed and puts her mouth on me at least twice an hour). I made a bargain to let the dog have rice as a food topper sometimes, if the doc wouldn't try to guilt me any more than she already did.

We weren't expecting the Best Baby in Colorado to come by today, but nonetheless we got two hours with her this afternoon. She continues to impress us every day. This time, it was demonstrating that she understand that pressing piano keys makes noises. She stood there, next to the low notes, for over ten minutes, having a ball. When her blood sugar ran out and her energy got low, she snuggled up with grandpa, and snacked on a bottle until they both fell asleep. I sat quietly, playing on my phone. Athena started meowing, and just wouldn't stop. I wanted to call out to her not to sing the song of her people, because she was going to wake the baby. After about 90 seconds of Athena's opera about killing mousies, I looked up and saw two little blue eyes just staring at me. The baby didn't say anything, didn't move. Just stared at me, for the longest time. What a silly girl.