Ours was low key and great. It was warm but not oppressive outside. Despite a late start, we took the dog to the woods for an hour. She jumped straight in every puddle and mud wallow she could find, so once home, she got a bath (bummer). David made ribs on the smoker grill, and I made salsa with my homegrown tomatoes. Mom and Phil came down after a trip to the farmer's market for corn and peaches, and Mom and I made a quick peach & blackberry pie. After a ribs & corn dinner that couldn't be beat, we had some pie & coffee.

They headed home around six, since it's nearly two hours' drive. I brushed the dog for about 30 minutes, took off a pound of hair at least, and finally just gave up. After a while, I get a static charge and all the hair starts sticking to me, it's nasty. I could probably brush her like that for hours and still get hands-full of loose hair. Labs are notorious for heavy shedding, and I'd guess that NC summers don't help.

After falling asleep on the couch a couple of times, I had my shower and now I'm headed for bed. A great day.

Yesterday I went to a funeral for a 20 year old girl, Dana. She was the daughter of one of my co-workers. One late evening last week, she lost control of her car on a winding country road and hit another car head-on. The police blame the wreck on excessive speed. She was air-lifted to the hospital in Chapel Hill. The driver of the other car died at our local hospital; her passenger (the driver's 46 year old son) had to be cut out of the car but survived. Dana was taken off of life support the following day. She was an organ donor, and saved five people's lives. A tiny silver lining. (This is likely not much consolation to the family of the woman she killed.)

In addition to her devastated mother, Dana also had a three year old son. He was heard at the funeral asking, "My mommy is in that box?" My friend is holding herself together solely for the little boy's sake. The whole thing is horrifying.

The funeral home was filled with her friends. Apparently, no one has ever told these kids about appropriate attire for solemn occasions. We had dirty ripped jeans, untucked shirts, (rather impressive) cleavage, and very short dresses. Some of the kids did make an effort to wear dark colors, a nice gesture. (Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to act in public.)

Other than that awfulness, the week has been good. David bought a smoker grill at the flea market last weekend. I did not realize what it was good for - it just seemed like an odd-looking grill. Turns out it's good for spare ribs, pork chops and everything else we've had for dinner this week. Yum. Another good reason I married that man.

I'm going to the women's meeting out in Moore County this morning, then going to see the in-laws afterward. It's supposed to be in the upper 90s all weekend, so any dog walking will be done early in the morning. We walked every day this week, averaging 2 miles each day. I have no plans for Sunday, other than to stay the heck out of the heat.

I have surplus fathers. My natural father (Dad) lives in Arizona, my first stepfather (Daddy) in New York, and my current stepfather (Pop)in North Carolina. We are all on good terms and they were all at our wedding. I consider myself rich beyond compare. As far as I know, none of them read this, so I can't skive off and wish them a generic happy father's day online - I have to pony up for the damn cards. (Heck, the postage alone!) Anyway, happy day to all you fathers out there, especially Dan. Hell, happy every day to you, Dan.

Today, we drove out to Pinehurst and took the in-laws out for lunch. Tomorrow, we're going to see my folks in Durham. We may stop at the state farmer's market for tomatoes and peaches. Yum.

That's pretty much the whole weekend, there. Zip, zip, zoom!

I'm trying something new - just eating well and getting out more. I walked 2 miles yesterday, 3 and 1 miles today. (I tried to go swimming but the lanes were full and the chlorine was too much to hang around in.) I'm still trying to be mindful of portion sizes, though not obsessively. I have been tracking my food on a website, but I'm leaving it alone for now. (It's surprising how much of a habit it is.)

After three failed attempts to get some help at Dick's Sporting Goods, we were at REI and spent a good 20 minutes with an employee who talked to me about kayaking, pulled down a boat so I could see how heavy it was, sit in it, and try out it on for size. He strongly encouraged me NOT to buy a kayak until I'd rented a few and decided for myself which one was a good fit for my skill level. And that is indeed my plan, once I get a chance. Lake Crabtree County Park near Raleigh (where I worked for a couple of months in 1999) has a boat rental concession. REI rents kayaks. The MWR has kayaks.

The Dick's story is great - I went twice and found no help, so I sent an email explaining that they'd missed out on a $300-$500 sale due to lack of sales help on the floor. I got a phone call from a manager at Dick's offering to help me himself and even give me a little discount for my trouble. So I went in there with David the next day, and? no help. I even called up front and told the cashier that we wanted to see kayaks and we were standing under the display, please send someone over. Nothing. We finally left, laughing at the absurdity. Compare and contrast with my REI experience, and it will be no surprise to me when Dick's files for bankruptcy.

(One more silly story - a new sporting goods/outfitter place opened up last year, Gander Mountain. Apparently lesbians prefer the Gander Mountain store - it seems they don't care for Dick's.)

I have been less successful in finding new meetings, but I have a line on a couple of women's meetings in Aberdeen that might be good. It's an hour drive one way, but it's worth a try. (I once walked about ten miles to go to a keg party - a 60 minute drive doesn't seem that far in comparison.)

I forge ahead.

HA HA HA HA HA! THE ARMY LAUGHS AT YOUR PUNY PLANS AND DESIGNS!

Ahem. So David's not deploying in July, but probably next January or February. Unless that changes, too. Man, that Army, it's such a kidder.

I am back to "stuck" on the education/career thing. There are one or two things I am interested in, but they're fulltime programs, i.e., I would need to quit work and go to school full time. The economy is so crappy these days, and things would be very tight indeed without my salary. I dunno.

However, I am still on, full speed ahead, to have more damn fun. I'm going to rent a kayak from the MWR facility on post to see if I enjoy solo kayaking, before I buy one. (Renting a kayak, paddle, life vest and helmet is about $15 per weekend. Love that MWR.) I am going to the mountains this summer. I am taking the dog to the woods. I am knitting every day.


This post brought to you by the desire to get the pornographic butterfly pea flower off the front page. Geez.

This morning, in an effort to have more fun, I took Dolly to Ft Bragg to one of our old hiking spots. It's the typical piney sandhills landscape. I did see a new flower - the butterfly pea.
.
(photo yanked from Vanderbilt University.)
Pea flowers are pretty showy, but this one is about 2" long, and quite eye-catching. I didn't have my field guide, so I wrote down as much description as I could, and figured it out when I got home. (You might be glad to know that it doesn't resemble genitalia quite so much in person as it does in this photo.)

Later on our walk, I saw a warbler that I couldn't identify, so I did the same thing. Turns out it was a pine warbler.
(photo yanked from Outdoor Alabama.)
Lovely!

We walked for nearly two hours. Dolly got into the puddles and ponds, which are all nasty in the extreme, so she got a bath (bummer!) when we got home. Then I had a bath (yay!). I went out to see the in-laws, and on the way back, I stopped in an outfitter store, to discuss kayaks with the staff. I won't get one until I've done more research, but I am doing the research. I am also researching training and education options, but have made no decisions yet. I don't want to make a rash decision and have more student loan debt to show for it.

My apologies to those of you who have been reading this type of crap from me periodically. Here it goes again.

So, I went to a retreat this past weekend. I like this one because it isn't woowoo or overly religious. Among other things, the leader suggested that you think about how long people in your family tend to live (87-91), subtract your age (47) from that to get an idea of how long you have left (@40 years), and decide if what you are doing now is what you want to be doing for the rest of that time.

NO.

Last week I found out that the Department of Defense has a program for spouses of active duty military for career advancement, which will reimburse up to $6K in tuition for degrees or certification towards "portable" career training. I have registered; I just need to call them to find out what constitutes "portable."

I faffed around online earlier tonight and took one of those "career aptitude" tests. I scored highest for Industrial Art (pause here for raucous laughter from my old shop teacher), Outdoors (duh), and Writing. Anyway, I'm thinking Graphic Design or Tech Writing. (Hey Don, how's the field these days? Brutal, I'm guessing.)

My lowest scores are for clerical work (i.e., my current job) and sales. Oh, yes. I need to make some kind of positive change lest I go utterly batshit.

Another thing this retreat leader (remember her?) mentioned is this: for alkies, in order to stay sober, we have to find something that gets us high, or else we will go back to drinking. (She also told me point blank, when I mentioned having RA, that I had to reduce the stress in my life somehow, or I wouldn't be asymptomatic for much longer.)

In about six weeks, I will have been sober 23 years, just shy of half my life. I'm down to one or two meetings a week, and I don't especially like the ones I go to - they're just better than the others I've tried. I am restless, irritable, and discontent. I've lived in NC for 11 years and I still complain about it. I'll never leave: if nothing else, I have to stay put until Doris dies, and honey, only the good die young.

I must find some joy in my life: if not at work, then in recreation. I must find some kind of community with other people, if only to find people who will call me on my bullshit. I must make some changes, or I may very well drink. And for us, to drink is to die.

Oh, how I wish I had been here.



Come on, get happy.

We went to Columbia, South Carolina for the weekend. We drove down on Friday, spent Saturday, and came back Sunday after going to SC's only national park, Congaree. It was pretty there, and we did a pile of antiquing, though we didn't find much to buy. I think we spent a total of $10 - I got a book and he got something for less than $5. We did contribute to the economy in a big way at restaurants. I got the hotel room ultra cheap through Expedia and Tripadvisor.com. (I love Tripadvisor - I used it to find a good hotel in Paris, too. They have traveler reviews of various places, and the little details can tell you a lot. It's way better than picking a hotel in a place I've never been, and hoping for the best.)

Saturday morning we went out for breakfast, then walked on the Riverfront park, as it was much too early for antique stores. Columbia is just below the fall line, where the Saluda and Broad Rivers meet to form the Congaree River. They have made good use of some riverfront for a lovely long park similar to the C&O Canal Park in the DC area. We walked out until we'd used half our time, then turned and walked back, then headed to the nearby Vista neighborhood to shop. There are a number of antique stores there, and we found plenty to keep us occupied.

The national park was great - it's a swampy area, no surprise there, as most of South Carolina is lowland and the bulk of that is marshy or swampy. The park has a boardwalk trail that loops through the woods - it's less than three miles, but that's all we had time for. Where most national parks have a board noting Fire Danger, Congaree has a board to forecast Mosquito Activity. It was mild to moderate on Sunday. Luckily for us, they sell citronella wipes in the visitor center. I can vouch for them: I got a single bite, and normally I'd have been eaten alive. Even David had trouble, and normally they don't bother him at all. But the park is very pretty and the birdsong and frog chorus was wonderful.

The drive back home was less wonderful, punctuated by intermittent downpours and resulting traffic snarls on I-95. After crawling about 2 miles towards one accident site, we got off the highway in Florence and had some lunch, and by the time we returned, traffic was cleared up.

Normally, we would have gone to the Memorial Day event downtown, but we had too much to do. We went to the storage facility and cleared out one of Doris & Wally's units. We took the towels and linens out to give to animal shelters, got a few things that we could use, and consolidated the rest into the larger unit. We need to hold a big yard sale this summer to unload some of their belongings. I don't know if David's training schedule will permit him to do this, or if it will have to wait until after he deploys. Either way, we have to do something - it's been in storage for a year and a half, and that is just preposterous.

Afterwards, I took a box out to Pinehurst for Wally. His phone wasn't working, so I figured I was in for a good two hours at the Verizon store. Once I got to the apartment, I had a look at his phone: it was merely turned off. So I showed him how to turn it back on, and made sure the sound was on, then I called Verizon and got his password changed to something he will remember, so perhaps he can retrieve his voicemail. I took them out to run some errands and have some ice cream, then came home. Wally is starting to notice some loss of his abilities, primarily strength but also memory, and it's very distressing. Doris is okay for a little while, but after an hour or so is not easily able to follow or join the conversation. Being around them makes me depressed about growing old myself. It ain't pretty, folks. Plan ahead.

Well, I looked at joining a nearby gym (the one where I tried to kill myself on the elliptical), but in the end I decided to go with the YMCA, since they have a pool. It's farther away, and I'll have to plan ahead better. Still, there's no contract - I can give them 30 days notice and that's it - and the price is 1/3 less than the other place, so it's good. I look forward to swimming tomorrow.

I have not taken Dolly out every day: I missed Thursday and Sunday last week. Still, we are getting out much more this season. I have lots of aches & pains, but I just stretch my legs and keep going. A little ibuprofen before bed so I don't wince tomorrow, and everything's fine.

We are trying to get away for Memorial Day weekend, but can't make plans because of some foolishness at David's company. I'll keep my fingers crossed, and hope for a getaway. The following weekend, I'm going to a women's retreat on the coast. I went last year and really enjoyed it.

The laundry room remains organized, happily. The catbox is still an issue, but I clean it every day, and I have placed a small dish of white vinegar at the other end of the room to help counteract the odor. It seems to help. Thanks, Heloise.

Up too late watching my Hurricanes lose to the Penguins by one. Feh. Now I'll have to listen to my boss tell me why they're going to lose this round, again. He's a longtime Panthers football fan, so he is practiced at anticipating failure. He told me that the Canes would lose against the Bruins, but they won. Hah!

So I have continued to walk Dolly each day, between 1.5-2.5 miles. I went to the gym one afternoon and about killed myself by working on the elliptical at the same rate and pace that I used to do back when I was going to the gym three times a week (oh, about five years ago). Not a good idea. That's what happens when I listen to disco on the elliptical: Dance (Disco Heat) comes on and pretty soon I'm doing 6 miles per hour. Easy does it!

I have found my first sponsor on Facebook. Apparently, she is drinking again. Hey, if she can drink successfully, more power to her. It's pretty weird for me to read her posts about cocktails, though, since she taught me everything I know about AA. It doesn't make me want to drink, though. Screw that. I know better.

I'm PMSing and had an attack of cleaning and rearranging. It's quite alarming. Luckily, David is out at training all week, so I can turn the laundry room upside down for a few days without getting in his way. I have to have it back in order before he comes home, though, because he is going to have lots of laundry to do.

I bought some Closetmaid cabinets to store things, but they are shallow, only about 10" deep, so I will use those for miscellaneous stuff currently spilling all over the laundry room. The stash is in tubs, large ziploc bags, and tote bags; and all these are up on shelves. I still have more work to do to organize, but I made a good head start on it, at least.

In related news, holy crow do I have a lot of yarn. Loose yarn, yarn that is assigned to a project, and unfinished objects (UFOs) galore. Shocking amounts, especially the UFOs. I'm fickle, and I get about halfway into things, get bored and/or frustrated, and start something else. I have, in bags and with instructions & needles, 3 pairs of socks, 2 hats, 2 sweaters, a shawl, a scarf, and some other things that escape me right now. I have the yarn and patterns packed together for at least a dozen other projects, but haven't started those yet. Well, to misquote the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, yarn will get me through times of no money better than money will get me through times of no yarn.

And I am up too late and must take my sore butt to bed.

ohmigod y'all, this dog is wearing me to a nub.

I walked him another 4 miles yesterday, and took him out to play a little last night. (He will play Tug, thank God.) At one a.m., we had a big thunderstorm. Dolly woke me up, panting at the side of the bed, and then Kingston started barking in his crate, out in the living room. I staggered from my bed and went out to see if I couldn't settle them both down. Dolly needed to go out - Kingston needed some company. So after Dolly went out in the driving rain to piddle, I got a blanket and laid on the couch, speaking to the dogs in low tones, and got them settled down. We all drowsed off eventually. I got up at 2:30 and went back to bed. Five a.m. came a little early this morning, but I gamely got up and had some coffee before taking the dogs out for 2.5 miles. (In case you are playing along, that brings us to 16.5 miles walked since Monday afternoon.) Then I had some more coffee to get going at work.

We found out yesterday that his momma is not coming to get him today, but we hope to be rid of him give him back on Saturday. At this point, it's The Ransom of Red Chief - lady, please take this dog back. Today at lunch, I let him out in the yard to piddle and sniff. He's a puppy and he wants to play, so he harasses Dolly - nipping her flanks and biting her tail. She keeps looking at me like, "Mom, send this one back." I actually put him back in his crate a little early so I could play fetch with her. He won't let her bring the toy back to me to be thrown again.

One good thing about this week: I know that I can do better. If I can walk Blockhead four miles a day, I can damn well walk Dolly for two miles most days. We both need the exercise. And walking her is such a pleasure when I'm not riding herd on a rascal.

Mother's Day weekend is coming. We're going to see the in-laws tomorrow, and my mom on Sunday. Yay, Mom! Happy Mother's Day to all the rest of you Mothers out there, too.

The festival was wonderful. There were lots of vendors selling fleece, yarn, notions, and gifts. There were lots of sheep, alpacas, llamas, angora bunnies, goats and border collies. There were people - probably in the 30,000 range. Fewer than last year, due partly to the economy but also to the forecasted rain. (Got it on Sunday but not on Saturday.) There were even some internet knitting celebrities - the folks who created Ravelry were there. Amanda and I got our photo taken with Casey, the guy who wrote the code for that amazing, astonishing site. We saw two young knitting designers, Laura Chau, a.k.a. Cosmicpluto from Toronto, and Ysolda Teague, from Scotland. I've been reading their blogs and knitting their designs for a couple of years, so that was a little thrill. We got to hang out and have lunch with our friends Vicki and Emily (and her husband, Michael). We ate some lamb, and crabcakes the size of softballs. (A lotta crabs died to make those things - they were too big.)

I didn't buy much yarn this year: one skein on the first day, and seven on Sunday. But of those, three are dark gray alpaca, 575 yards of dk weight, and so soft and wonderful I may just keep them in a basket next to the bed and pat them everyday. I hope to make a sweater for myself. (I wasn't the only person who fell down hard in the alpaca booth - this would be a good time to invest in lint roller company stocks.) As usual, Amanda and I had a great time. We'll be there again next year.

When I got home, I got to meet our houseguest, Kingston. He's a six month old Rottweiler pup, sixty pounds of boundless enthusiasm and teeth. We are taking care of him for the week, and he has some bad habits. So he stays in his crate when he's in the house, and I have been walking him a lot to try and work off some of that energy. We did 2 miles on Monday, 5 yesterday, and 4 today. Dolly is pretty sure I've lost my mind. My butt hurts. But the dog is not a retriever, so I can't exercise him by throwing a ball - he just looks at it. He'd like to herd Dolly around the yard; she objects. He'd like to herd me; I am not letting that beast get the upper hand for even a second. So, walking. This morning's walk was much worse than previous ones, so tonight he wore his prong collar. God bless the person who thought that up: it was like walking a whole new dog. He tried pulling on it but thought better of it right away. I was even able to hold him still to take away the chicken bones he found in the street. It's a miracle - I heard angels singing. (Or it could have been the Beach Boys, who knows.)

Time for a much-need shower and bed. All this fresh air and sunshine's gonna kill me.

This weekend, I went a little nuts in the gardening department: a dozen Wave petunias, some herbs, some zinnias and dahlias, a couple of marigolds to go in with the tomatoes (keeps the pests down). We worked on the yard both days, but in small doses - it's been hot, and I wilt in the heat like a candy bar on the dashboard. I got the planters done, David prepped a garden bed for me, I put four of the petunias in, he mowed the grass. We have more weeds than grass, and are talking about what to do next to improve the front yard. I think it's too late to fool with grass seed - it's about to be hot and dry for the next few months. We're going to solicit advice on the matter before proceeding. I entertained some notion about going out to plant some more flowers at dusk, but the mosquitoes are already out in force. Not gonna happen.

Our local landfill has screened compost - a pickup-truck load for $10. That's on my to-do list, because that is damn cheap and the yard needs it desperately. The dirt around this house is mostly sand, so there's not much for the plants to eat. Some organic matter would improve the situation a lot.

I read the most interesting article on obesity and calories recently. The blog Junkfood Science discusses it in detail - it's really worth reading. The gist is that during World War II, volunteers took part in an experiment to study starvation. The doctors in the study restricted the men's caloric intake to 1600 calories per day. The men lost 25% of their body weight, and became depressed, obsessed with food, and some even mutilated themselves. Some couldn't maintain the experiment and started binge-eating. (Sound familiar yet, ladies?) Once they were done with the experiment, the men ate over 4000 calories per day, ballooned in weight, then settled back down to the weight they were at before the study. The body knows what weight it is supposed to be.

I was surprised by the calorie level. Anyone who has ever spent any time reading about diets and worrying about her weight will tell you without hesitation that 1,600 calories is all anyone should eat in a day, and some will even say they will gain weight on that calorie level. (I quote a co-worker, "My butt would be as big as a barn door if I ate 1,600 calories per day.") Many weight loss plans counsel eating as few as 1,200 calories per day. FYI: the basic caloric count for a healthy adult is commonly listed at 2,500 calories per day.

The part that I found utterly fascinating was the reaction of the men to deprivation. All classic anorexia/bulimia symptoms. When the body is deprived of food, people go nuts. They obsessed about food, they thought about to the exclusion of personal relationships and even sex. And then I realized that my relationship with food has changed utterly. I think about food all the time. I keep an online journal of everything I eat. I weigh and measure my food so I can adhere to portion sizes. I cut the fat off my steak to give to David. I reach for a cookie and draw back my hand thinking, Oh, I can't afford to eat that. I see other women looking at cheese and crackers who say, "I don't want to be bad." BAD. And I realized that I know the number of calories in an ounce of cheese (100) and a single fricking cracker (20).

Fuck that. I am definitely casting off going to try to let go of this BS diet mindset. (Forty years of cultural training is not easily turned around.) I can be healthy at whatever size I am. I am not a dress size, and I am not Bad when I want to eat something delicious.

(Feminist rant #13-c redacted for length and so I might be able to get some sleep tonight, instead of staying up til the wee hours typing away like a madwoman. I blame the goddamn patriarchy. You are welcome.)

No, really. But it's been a crazy week.

After my cousin went home to NY, my aunt's dog began getting sick - so much so that we took him to the emergency vet on Saturday. Turns out that knucklehead ate an inedible item, which had to be removed via surgery. He was one miserable beast for a couple of days, and gave us quite a scare. He'll be in recovery for a couple of weeks yet, but he came home on Tuesday and has been processing food as God intended, so he should be just fine. He will never again get a toy smaller than his head.

Yesterday my local vet cleared him for travel, and my aunt headed back to NY today. She is without question the world's best houseguest. Lucky for me, I have a fenced-in yard, so when she's in the area, she stays here. (I also take care of the dog while she goes to see other relatives in the area. He's a peach, and he and Dolly have a grand time together.) I offered to build her a little apartment in the back, but she has stuff to get back to, so off she went.

I got a welcome phone call today - my father called me from Tucson. I hadn't heard a peep from him in over two months. He and his wife moved back there from Oregon in February, and it took them a while to find a place, get in there, unpack, etc. I'm glad the move went well. (They are both alive - I heard his wife in the background - so that means the move went reasonably well.)

Another great milestone this week was the one year anniversary of one of my pigeons. I gave her a chip at tonight's meeting. She is an inspiration to me. I doubt I could have gotten through the things she's endured this year.

This weekend is a big SCA event, so that's our plan for Saturday. We had thoughts of camping overnight, but probably won't stay - it's only an hour from here. Gotta feed the dog, you know. Sunday I will go and see the in-laws, who are doing just fine. The weather is supposed to be grand, and perhaps they will be up for another trip to the botanical garden.

That's the report.

...hence the silence. I'm still walking dogs, working, knitting. My folks are coming over for Easter (now that we've assured my dad that, yes, he can watch Tiger play in the Masters Tournament).

My stepson has gotten his sorry behind in a pile of trouble from which we cannot (and probably should not) rescue him. Sixteen years old = dirt-dumb and arrogant into the bargain. Yay. I can't get into it much, except to say it's legal trouble that will follow him all the days of his life. Honestly, talking to a teenager is like talking to a dog. "Blah blah blah blah Kid blah blah blah." How my parents allowed me to live to 18 is beyond me.

My cousin is home by now. She will have further treatment at home, and return to see the surgeon in a couple of months. Modern medicine, properly applied, is pretty damn impressive.

I tried to get a little extra time in at work so I could go to Good Friday services, but we don't have them at our church, just Maundy Thursday tomorrow night. That gives me some space to be late or stretch my lunch, or just leave early on Friday. It's nice to have a week where I don't have to take some kind of leave. Or visit any hospitals. I'm getting to hate those places.

My cousin, who is six months older than me and was like a sister when we were kids, had a tumor removed from her brain today. It was in a "difficult" place, but the neurosurgeon operated this morning, and she's doing well. She still has a little aphasia, but it's too early to know if that will improve or not. I did not go today, as there are plenty of people there already. ONe really does not need a crowd in the frickin' ICU. (Also, I've spent enough time in the neuro ICU and will be glad never to step foot in it again. Those people are rock stars, and they have my everlasting gratitude.) My cousin should be in the step-down unit tomorrow, and I will drive up and see her then.

For those who are wondering, my in-laws are not in Carthage, NC, scene of yesterday's massacre. They are in a town about 10 miles away. My boss was born and raised in Carthage, baptized at the First Baptist Church, and his whole family is just rocked. His mom knew some of the victims, and the murders touch everyone in town in some way. The perp is some crazy old redneck, apparently looking to shoot his old lady and go out in a blaze of glory. The cop on duty deprived him of his desired ending, and just stopped his sorry ass with one well-placed shot. Good shooting, officer. (I blame the patriarchy.)

I am taking care of my aunt's dog, Nigel. He's a peach, a very sweet boy. My cat has decided he's Public Enemy Number One and glares at him, hissing and spitting when he gets near. He knows "leave it" and makes no attempt to molest her, but she's very aggressive with him. This scares him, so he barks at her, a great deep WOOF. Life is somewhat noisier than usual these days. She will get over herself more as time passes. The dogs slept on the floor in the same room while Miss Cat got some lap time tonight, so it's getting better. The cat is 15, and I am more indulgent of her than I would be if she were not elderly.

Nigel is about 80 pounds of enthusiastic three year old Lab. He wears a Gentle Leader collar for his walks. This is a wonderful device, and makes all the difference. I took him out alone on Sunday afternoon, and found him to be pretty compliant on the leash. (Then I had to take Miss Whiny Jealousy Pants Dolly for her walk right afterwards.) So this morning, I bravely took them both out together, just for a half-mile loop. He was reasonably well-behaved. This afternoon, I took them both out again, for about two miles this time. We had some issues around his response to a pair of barking dogs behind a fence, but otherwise he was good. One thing is for sure: when I'm walking two dogs, there is no time for woolgathering or sightseeing. I am Walking Dogs, and that's all I'm doing, if only to avoid being made into a Maypole. I expect we will all sleep well tonight.

Mine, all mine. Mmm.

He does smile, honest. We forgot our camera, so we took those pictures at the end of the night after we got home and we were both tired and ready to get out of those clothes. We had fun at the ball, the people watching was pricelessly trashy, and I'm sure glad I don't drink anymore. Lordy.

Can we go to sleep now?

Very slight... Last week I spent a few days at my folks' house, helping out. I also went shopping for a dress, and found a lovely one at Nordstrom's. It had to be hemmed, but luckily they do that sort of thing on-site. The brigade formal ball is Thursday night. The brigade gets Friday off, I do not. Humph. Oh, well, we must suffer for beauty. I will make every effort to get some photos of us in our splendorousness. Dolly spent the weekend at Aunt Mary's house, and came home at least a pound heavier and feeling quite spoiled. David got back from his training on Friday night, and got a quiet weekend on his own until I returned with the dog Sunday evening. I got to see my cousin Cathy briefly on Saturday morning, under less than ideal circumstances, but I was glad for the privilege.

It was lovely out this afternoon after work. I took Dolly over to the golf course, where she promptly went straight into the ponds. She's a Lab, what can I do? So we walked around, and I tried to steer her away from confrontations with the Canada geese who think they own the place. Where's a terrier or a border collie when I need one? Dolly doesn't even woof at them.

Update: slight, as advertised.

David's gone to Virginia for a week, for training. He left around noon, and I've been hanging around the house, doing just about nothing. I finally shifted myself and colored my hair after supper. It was a cold and rainy day and a few hours to knit, read, and/or nap seemed like the perfect use for it.

Belk's department store is participating in the Cinderella Project this week. They collect unwanted formal dresses and accessories, and make them available to low income girls for their proms. My infamous teal bridesmaid dress is at the cleaners, and when it's done, I'll take it to the donation center. I mentioned it to the dry cleaner, who volunteered that she had a formal dress that had been left for cleaning more than two years earlier, and she wants me to take that one too. I also plan to take the shoes I bought for the wedding because OW were they uncomfortable. No need to hold on to those. Anyway, I hope someone finds a use for the dress. It was actually pretty flattering, despite my dislike of the color. I spoke to the bride today - she says she has the pictures on a CD. If I can get her to send the wedding pictures, I'll see if I can post one for your amusement. (I tried to talk her out of making all of old ladies wear strapless, floor-length satin teal gowns in DC in August, fer chrissakes, but she was set on it. No one ever needs to see that much upper arm flab, but we all grinned and bore it (bared it!) for her sake.)

I got to meet David's battalion captain last week, a lovely young woman in her thirties, who is dying on the vine here in Fayetteville. She would rather be in a larger city to have more to do. We talked dogs ( she has a Rottie pup) for a bit. I talked to her about the things I do by myself just because I can't get anyone to go along with me, and I mentioned kayaking. Her eyes lit up. I shall have to see about any possible kayaking trips this spring. The idea of having Nikki go kayaking with me also made David very happy, as it gets him entirely off the kayaking hook. Heh.

I'm using my photo of the Virginia piedmont as wallpaper, but I might have to change it out to something that doesn't make me sigh quite so much. I have got to get out to the damn mountains this spring. I just love them.