.....Black tri Aussie.....

Today was, for the most part, quiet. Philip and I got to church in good time (Psalm 148--waaaaaah!) and didn't really stay to talk afterwards. The sermon was still on the first couple of verses of Colossians, analyzing the second part of Paul's greeting: Grace and peace be unto you, in the name of God and the Lord Jesus Christ. I was interested to learn that this was a melding of Greek and Jewish greetings into something peculiarly Christian.

Once we got home things were pretty slow. I read Black Sheep, Philip napped, Grandma did the same. We had salmon again for lunch, with more lemon in the rice this time. It all came out well. I started Densha Otoko, a sweet seinen romance based on a series of threads on 2ch, the Japanese forum equivalent to English 4chan. An Akibahara otaku met a nice girl on a train and broke his lurking habits to ask for advice on the forums. The people on the forum talked him through the first phone call, the first date, the first visit to her house.....I understand they talked the couple all the way through to the wedding and beyond, although I haven't gotten that far yet. It's very sweet and cute, and very funny. I believe there's a novel, a manga, an anime, and a movie. One has to wonder what the original Train Man thinks of it all; hopefully his marriage is still going strong, anyway.

Philip left a bit after dinner, after rendering some small assistance in the ordering of my Aussie book. I think Grandma and I are going to try to do some dog training. Two birds with one stone: get Grandma into the sunshine, develop some of that underused canine intellect, and exercise the dog. Oops, that's three. There will probably be more. This occurred to me a bit before dinner, when Grandma and I had been playing a sort of cross between catch and volleyball: two people throw the ball back and forth, and the dog tries to knock it out of the air. This game grew out of simply playing gargantuan exercise ball with the dog: it's not scary, see you can herd it, see, try and move it with your paws. By the end she was knocking it down and hustling it into the corner where I keep my backpack and books. This was the red ball, about the size of a beach ball.

I've also been listening to Pandora a lot lately. I was trying to get the channels on my account to reflect the ones on Doug's. I ended up getting jazz and anime music. Doug gave me his account info, but I'm discovering that his channels don't necessarily deliver the music I want either. I've gotten several YoKan favorites; the first paragraph of this post was written to "Rise" by Origa; but I wasn't quite looking for Gorillaz and Coldplay. Oh, well. I'm good. Besides, if I really want the nice shoujo ones, I can ask Owen for his......

Now, Densha Otoko or The Curse of Chalion? Considering I'm supposed to aim for ten-thirty tonight, Densha Otoko seems a better choice. I've only got about twelve chapters to go, and I think they're pretty short.

EDIT: Omigosh, he showed her the thread! He ended up showing her the thread! In the last chapter! And it still had a happy ending! ......I think they'd been officially together, as opposed to dating, about a week by then......Is good manga! And historical proof that nerds can get girls too! Er....that nerds can become cool and get girls, actually.....

SECOND EDIT: Whoa. There are two shounens and a shoujo version, besides the seinen. I wish I thought the original 2ch poster got paid for this story.

A Doberman, a Shiba, and a Dane

Philip asked if I was ready to go to the store right after I'd had breakfast, still sitting at the table, head on arms, in my bathrobe. "I'll go get dressed," I mumbled. He took the time, while I did so, to eat breakfast himself. I was still ready before he was. We went to Walmart, got my watch pin replaced, some gel pads for my boots, more socks, and the latest Shojo Beat. While we were at the jewelry counter for my watch, Philip said casually, "While we're here we could get an engagement ring." "That would be a good idea," the lady at the counter said, promptly. "And did you have a particular girl in mind?" I enquired. "Oh, I just thought I'd get the ring first and then get a girl to go with it." I suggested the girl might like to help choose it. "Ah, I'll just find a girl who matches it." The clerk said, "My husband picked out my ring and hm, three of our houses by himself." I asked what she'd thought about this. "Eh, it was fine. He knew what he was doing." So much for support.

We went to the library, too, where they were having a sale. The only thing I found was Terry Pratchett's Strata, proof that libraries are insane. Every Discworld fan needs to know how he got started with this! Sheesh. They appear to have sold a lot of other crucial books too. There were hardly any Lois Bujolds, the only copy of Cordelia's Honor being down in Fountain. All the new Sharing Knife books are either checked out or reserved, too. I ended up with Warrior's Apprentice, The Curse of Chalion, and a couple of Heyers I've been craving lately. I looked for Hartnagle's All About Aussies, but its absence was no tragedy, as Grandma has decided I need to buy it online, using her credit card and paying her back. *wide grin* Abebooks has a copy at a reasonable price.

After lunch and Beat (with Pocky), I took Lark and Phil up the way we went yesterday to see that nice Dane. The humans were all inside, but when I rang the doorbell the man let Gabby out. He was in the middle of something, though, and after a bit Phil puts the dogs back in and we headed home. It was nice and cool, with clouds, so I was in slightly better shape for commandoing across the hillside to the road behind our house. The new gel pads are a definite improvement, although still with a tendency to shift which I'll have to work on--it may be solvable without use of glue.

We got home and Phil promptly hijacked the monitor cable. We ended up watching Blast from the Past, on his laptop via the terebi. It's......pretty good. The plot....heh/geh/keh. It starts in the sixties. This fairly wealthy genius has built the mother of all fallout shelters in his backyard. He and his very pregnant wife hunker down after a television address from President Kennedy. An airplane crashes in the back yard, convincing Mr. Webber that the bomb has hit--to do him justice, there were flames coming down the hatches. Closing the door was justified. Setting the time-lock for thirty-five years.....well, as far as he knew it was justified. His wife didn't entirely agree. Fast forward thirty-five years. Their son, Adam, is well-educated, well-mannered, well.....built. A very nice boy, in fact, albeit thirty-five. His father, having reconnoitred topside, has come to the conclusion that all the survivors are messed up one way or another, and there's no reason whatever to come out for another ten years. There is, however, the little matter of supplies. For one thing, Adam's mother is nearly out of alcohol--currently a staple, given her underground existence and her husband's well-worn tapes of "The Honeymooners." So Adam is sent topside  to bring back supplies--and, hopefully, a nice girl, from Pasadena if possible. Buying supplies was easy, once he'd sold one or two of his father's old baseball cards and found a nice girl to help drive U-Hauls and rent lockers. Getting it all back to the shelter was harder, especially considering he'd promptly gotten lost, in the first place, and in the second place, the nice girl, being not entirely nice, refused to believe she'd fallen for a guy who, while looking exactly her type, reminded her like a lost puppy. It all.........works out. Of course. Mostly. I do wonder if Adam's mother ever took the butcher knife to her husband, when for example she learned there'd never been any nuclear attack--something her bunker-building husband never came to believe.

After dinner Phil and I went to see the new Pixar movie, UP. It was pretty good. Not great, but good. Hmmmm......a good family movie. I think my favorite bits were the dogs, and after that Carl's wife.....a character with live appearances only in the prologue. This story takes place largely after her death, you see. Anyway. Come to think of it, the only other major female character is the bird--Kevin. Yeah. But it's a fun movie, and I was happy to take the chance to dress up; Sid gave me a really nice black top that I've been wanting to wear with the red skirt. It was perfect. It doesn't even have many white dog hairs on it, now that Lark's finally assimilated the fact that I have once more returned to her life. Which reminds me--the dogs really impressed me. Not just the characterization, which was terrific, but the animation. The expressions, conveyed perfectly through caricatured canine bodies. The textures, so that I knew exactly what it would feel like to touch one of those lolling pink tongues. Heck, even the voices, through the special collars that communicated the dogs' thoughts, simultaneously permitting them to communicate both verbally and physically, without the disruption of moving mouths. Alpha, the scary Doberman, sounded like, when the collar was working properly, Toy Story's Zurg. So.....it was fun. It was good. It wasn't great.

An Aussie, a Shiba Inu, and a Great Dane

Today is a good day. Having spent the morning waiting for my elder brother to show up, we gave up and went for a walk at one-fifteen. We started on our usual trail through the Heller estate, pausing at the head of the creek to discover water striders and tadpoles in the pools of the rocks. I'm going to investigate those tadpoles more: they had external gills, and were patterned. Anyway, at the meeting of the trails I took the most direct one into the houses, a house actually being visible from the rock under the tree. Shortly after getting onto the sidewalk in that well-off cul-de-sac, Lark stopped and stared into a yard. I looked, and there was a big merle Aussie dozing in the shade under a bush. We waited a moment, and the dog lifted his head and looked round. Seeing Lark, he decided that we required attention, and came over. He was much bigger than she is, between a Lab and a Golden, and very fluffy too. His fur stuck out like the winter fur of a Katahdin lamb. It was blue merle, a sort of light gray with patches almost black, and he had copper and white points, just like Lark. They greeted one another, Lark wary and the stranger interested, and he paused to sniff at me a moment before returning to investigating this pretty young thing on his sidewalk. In the end he darted away, in an oddly playful movement, before giving up and returning to his contemplation of slow death by fluff in the heat. We moved on. I was relieved to find, almost immediately, a familiar-looking main road. Determined to remember names, I checked the street sign: Rockhurst Boulevard. Right. We headed uphill. A strange music began to tease me: clearly aimed at children, it seemed about to settle into one tune after another, without ever doing so. The source came into sight. It was an ice cream truck. It struck me, unfamiliar, like a horse and carriage downtown: those still exist? I quickly went on to merely regretting that I didn't bring money to walk the dog, and resolving to do so in future. Five bucks, say. We pursued our parallel courses in opposite directions, however, and we proceeded without incident, past various familiar points, until we were a block away from the turn to the downhill road. A couple of people were chatting in a driveway across the street, and there was a little brown dog with black highlights (looked rather like this) barking at us. I didn't pay much attention to this, but I was watching them, and so I saw when a beautiful gray Dane moved cautiously out of hiding behind a shrub. The man told them to stay, and reassured me. "Yes, but can I come over there?" He said this was fine, and I did. The little dog--a Shiba Inu named, appropriately, Wolfie--followed protocols, sniffing tails, et cetera. It was when this was finished, and the beautiful gray-and-white Dane was still standing cautiously at the corner of the garage, that things got interesting. The Shiba started snarling at Lark. Her first coherent thought--and this took a few seconds--was to scramble into my arms. I think this was when the man's grown daughters--two, probably in their thirties--appeared, looking rather like backup in the way they stood by the Dane, but speaking as such not at all. They joined the man in calling Wolfie a dip, and laughingly remarking on Lark's taking refuge in my arms. We talked, more or less, for a bit, while the dogs settled down, and then I put Lark down again, crouching around her to cover her back. The little dog circled us interestedly, and I kept a hand at his shoulder to ward him off. He disliked this, turning his head back to my hand, his lip beginning to curl. I didn't stop to think, grabbing and twisting his collar, lifting his forequarters as he tried to reach my hand. One of his people came and got him, and I stood up and reached for Lark, who had scrambled on my back and was rather tangled with my backpack. I think it was at this point that the Great Dane, Gabby, got up the courage to come examine Lark, as I juggled her, trying to avoid too many claws in my arms, with little success. While the other people discussed Cesar Milan dictates and explained Wolfie's history as a stray and tendency to hunt small animals, Lark tried to climb my shoulder and I talked, as I could, to Gabby. She was really a beautiful dog. I don't know what a show judge would have said--possibly not much--but she was lovely. I tore myself away eventually--still carrying Lark--and headed down the block. It was cooling down, and clouds were coming up. I still didn't want to go down Stanton. Having reached the dorm parking lot via the slope from the road, I decided to cut across country to the road/driveway belonging to the really big house with the expensive dog runs and the German Shepherds. This was not, at that precise moment, an attraction, because I was cutting along the shoulder of the hill in what was, possibly, in one sense or another, their backyard. I ended up chickening out and following the line of barbed-wire fence, literally run into the ground in spots, up the slope. My legs protested. I compromised by going sideways before the grade got bad, dodging through some scrub oak with a minimal attempt at stealth which Lark completely ignored. I ended up joining the road at precisely the point we usually leave it. We went inside through the greenhouse, though I could still see the Vic from the backyard. Phil was on the couch with his laptop.

I was at the computer typing when the phone rang. It was a lady from church, Bev Kettelson, asking if we needed any food. She had been making beef stew for the disabled son of the neighbor lady who'd had a stroke, and Grandma had occurred to her. It was wonderful, the way she talked--not, as in Lee's case, any New York accent or similar, but her conversational style. I collected fragments about her eight grandchildren, the neighbors' nine homeschooled kids, her three semi-vegetarian daughters, and her husband. To give her credit, this was all connected to something she'd asked me, but.....actually, she doesn't need credit. She was great, and when her husband (also very nice, although making an impression more with certain sailing terminology) appeared, it was with three fair-sized containers of beef stew designed for the freezer, semolina bread (from the bakery), whole wheat spice bars, and two kinds of pound cake. Nobody exaggerated when they told me this lady likes cooking.

After dinner Philip went off to find a public television showing the Nuggets game and I settled down with A Civil Campaign. The ending's good as a Heyer, if.....different. Heh. There was a minor disturbance when Lark objected to a couple of loose dogs--a husky and what may have been a young viszla, something in that type--wandering around outside the house. They eventually went away, but by that time she had fully discovered the benefits of the balcony, something I've been intermittently attempting to introduce to her.

Schnoodle

Died getting up this morning. Washed my hair last night, and this morning we thought Cheryl was coming to do her thing again. Early. Well, turns out that with the dose changes, this was no longer the case. Urgh. We did have another nurse coming, but Diane wasn't due until two. I walked Lark before she came, going from a Heller trail up the side of the treasure shoulder and coming down behind Grandma's house. Valuable exploration, but those slopes nearly killed me. I could feel my calf muscles threatening mutiny when I was going down. Fortunately we all held out until the bottom, though, surviving to collapse on Grandma's bed. Possibly the thought that I had a working cell with me assisted morale, i.e. I'd be able to call someone therefore it is unnecessary. I was also racing the clock, with Diane due at two. I got home seven minutes before, having chosen my route straight down the slope with that in mind.

Jinn came over to chat a bit, bringing a loaf of bread. We finished the last loaf yesterday. It's a good thing Phil's coming tomorrow.

Marilyn, a friend of Grandma's brought dinner over. There's a nice salad with raspberries on it, dressing included, and a casserole. "I made chicken," she said, "in case anyone here doesn't like tuna. So it's chicken with wild--no, not wild--brown rice. Is that good?" We assured her that it was great, but I couldn't help thinking of the two or three remaining bags in the freezer of that identical meal. She didn't stay long, having an eighth-grade graduation to attend, but on her way out she mentioned that she had a dog waiting for her in the car, and I immediately asked it I could come meet it. It turned out to be she, a poodle/schnauzer cross, a little over a year old and very sweet. She--Molly--had a little car seat strapped in the back seat which let her look out the window without standing up, and as excited as she was, she never once got out of it. I was very impressed. She made little whining noises, wriggling in place, somewhat disadvantaged in her lack of length to wriggle. Her hair was black and curly, cut a bit long about the head, and she looked pretty poodly. All in all I was very glad to meet her. 

The wind came up during dinner, which while sharing a couple of ingredients was not at all like the last one, and there were a few drops of rain. Nothing came of it, however. After dinner I spent some time trying to find a movie Trina'd mentioned which was supposed to be on TV, but eventually I gave up and went online. The only version I found there was subtitled in Malay and had terrible sound quality. I gave up.

Reasons to learn proper typing: the ability to continue with the sentence when someone's head is blocking your view of the keyboard.

Lee called about eight-forty-five to say Mary-Ann, our Friday physical therapist, can't make it tomorrow, having been picked for jury duty. So, yeah, no morning rush. How nice. But Grandma has to be sure to do her exercises. Speaking of exercises, though, have I mentioned Diane's going to bring a Wii next time for balance exercises? And they're gonna make me do it too......meep. 

Loldogs again

Lee and Carole this morning. Ran out of cereal.....Took Lark out while Carole was helping Grandma shower. We went up past the Heller buildings, up the slope back there. Mornings are too hot! We got back and then Sid came over to chat with Grandma. She told me the website her brother posts his pictures to. Here's the junior group shot. The man scrapped every single shot with Lark in it.

Reading Beelzebub and listening to Franz. :D Then read Abara.

Cheryl, the INR nurse, called while I was watching FLCL. She made an appointment for Friday at 8 a.m. (I expect Philip'll be conked on the couch) to check Grandma's bloodwork again, and she told me to lower the Coumadin dose to seven milligrams. Also Grandma can take extra-strength Tylenol for pain, twice a day if necessary.

Ah, that's wrong. She called back, after the doctor called, to say that the Coumadin is seven and a half mg six days a week and five mg the seventh day. The doc arbitrarily designated Wednesday. And somebody tells me, after I've been feeding her salad for nearly two weeks now, that dark greens interfere with her Coumadin. Thanks, folks.

Finished FLCL about nine-fifteen. It was good, but something went wrong somewhere, because I never got high. It's exactly the right sort of anime for a high, but.....guess not. Strange. Just as well, I suppose, but still.....

Rereading Komarr.

One beagle, a lab, and an indeterminate

Two nurses simultaneously this morning: Cheryl, the INR nurse; and Lee, the physical therapist. Apparently Grandma's shoulder has been hurting her, and the nurses think it's because she tore her rotator cuff muscle in her shoulder when she fell. Lee says they can't be sure without an MRI, but as it won't impede her function as long as it doesn't hurt (read: no more baby aspirin, they're changing it) and rehab is outrageous (that's a quote) there's not really much point doing surgery. Okay. And Lee has been preparing Grandma to go up and down stairs with the cane.

Looks like rain again. Gave Lark a very short walk just before lunch, which was salmon sandwiches. Pretty good.

Diane came and had Grandma practice using the cane around the house, carrying dishes to the sink and stuff. She says I'm spoiling Grandma, helping her dress and stuff. I think the woman's trying to put me out of a job.

Walked Lark maybe one-thirty? Actually she had a very short walk about eleven-thirty, but it was maybe ten minutes. Tch. So I took her out again while Grandma was napping, and we had a good long walk along my favorite Heller trail. We saw a few people on the trail. There was a man heading briskly into the trees with two dogs at his heels. One was probably a Lab and the other was a medium dog with handsome brown fur with black highlights. I don't know what breed, and I didn't get a chance to ask. We met a woman with an elderly and overweight beagle as he was sniffing about under the tree where the trails from the houses meet. After them there was no one for some time, until Lark alerted me to the presence of a human by flattening her ears and wriggling up to an older man some distance past the pond, on the way back. He was nice, giving me no reason to decry her lack of discrimination. We were almost to the main trail when a man on a bike passed us. Lark was on the trail ahead, at a narrow point through the brush, so I was concentrating on coaxing her off the trail to me as he passed. There were a lot of people up above the Heller house, their cars all parked around it. I think they've been surveying. We didn't run into any of them. There was an SUV that came up behind us on our way out, but I don't think the elderly gentleman driving it was with them. For one thing, he had Florida plates.

Did some laundry, helped Grandma change her sheets, neatened up the kitchen. Bizarre as it is, I really am learning some of the stuff B was talking about, Mom. E.g.: Always cut your sandwich in half. It's more graceful eating it that way. Also, the purpose of a dishwasher is to get dirty dishes out of sight, thus neatening the kitchen. Hm.

It's seven-thirty. I am about to die. My legs have been complaining all day about their treatment yesterday, beginning in the morning with a little tendon or something in the side of my right foot and spreading to my calves (very bad) and a little in my thighs. Meanwhile the dog is asking me to play with her. HOW DO YOU THINK THIS HAPPENED TO ME??! Too much time playing chase with a larky little beggar like that! So my bed is unfolded and I am simply delaying falling asleep, because if I wake up at five tomorrow (and, oddly, I have been waking before the alarm) the only thing there will be to do is go for a walk. Which is not my idea of a good way to wake up. A good way to get hit by a car, a good way to trip and break your nose, a good way to walk off a cliff. Not a good way to wake up.

Two goldens, four mixes, and a Bichon(?)

Well, having slept in this morning, I had just finished breakfast and was down on the couch lying on Philip's legs when the phone rang. Sid wanted to know if I wanted to go on a walk down on the bike path behind the new strip mall. "Let me get dressed," I said. Some fifteen minutes later (she'd said it would take her that long) Lark and I were in Sid's driveway, waiting for her to locate her biking gloves.

It was a long walk. We left about nine-thirty, and got back at noon. We met six dogs: a "Hawaiian mutt", female; a Saint Bernard mix who looked like a gigantic teddy bear, male, older; a golden some distance away; a poodle mix that was, I think, pretty young; and a white mix, larger than and about twice as heavy as Lark, which might have had some beagle in her distant ancestry. 

Phil, have done the last grocery shopping, left shortly after I got home, while Grandma and I were making her lunch sammich. For dessert I made Ensure smoothies with yogurt and bananas, both at their last prayers. They were pretty good.

I spent some time on the comp, took a nap from three to four (a recharge I was grateful for later), cleaned up the kitchen, and then, having been invited by Sid to come over later while her daughters' families were there, I went next door.

Rough census: Sid's brother, three daughters, three husbands, two grandsons, three granddaughters. It was......full. Lark freaked as soon as she encountered the youngest granddaughter. "What is this? Too small! Too gentle! I dunno and I don't want to! Mom, this is scary! Pick me up! Help!" She spilled my lemonade. I set my drink down, picked her up, and explained to the (impressively gentle) little girl that my dog wasn't used to small children and was freaking out.

This was emphatically not the case with Isaac. Eight-year-old little boy about sums him up. I had a hot dog for dinner, and I guarantee you not one of those calories remains with me now. I think I strained something in my foot, chasing that kid. He pulled out all the stops, too. Steal something,  call me fat (for example), and in general make himself obnoxious. It was great. Any brother (although this is more Amen than sibling) withdrawal I was suffering is gone. Actually, make that little boy withdrawal. He was a lot more energetic than my brothers, and I'll do them the credit to say that their techniques are a lot more advanced. He has a little sister, too, considered acceptable by Lark, possibly because she's five but probably because she's more assertive and noisy than the youngest. Beautifuls couldn't handle a human acting like a particularly mild kitten.

The little girl in the middle, besides leaving me with what may have been her name, didn't make too much impression. I think she was Kaley, but....yeah. Oh well. They all would have liked Lark, if they could have. :D The latter grandson was somewhere around my age, had dyed the last inch of his nearly shoulder-length (brown) hair a sort of lavender, and was dressed all in black. The black hoodie had (candy?) unicorns on the front, and his very long, baggy, black pants had purple straps on them, with touches of studs. Pretty impressive. His name's Dylan (spelled however) and he spent most of the time on what might have been a cellphone. Could've been an mp3 player. It was orange. He also took a discussion of Goths in good part. One of the little girls said, right out, "Dylan's a goth." "I see that," I said. "He even wears black to school," she continued. "Well," I pointed out, "where else are you gonna wear your clothes if not school?" "The mall," Dylan said. "Oh. That's right. People go to malls. Okay." He never really did any chasing, and when I asked if her could run in those pants he said he couldn't really run at all. He dealt with the little kids pretty well, though, and when we were waiting for ice cream and I was holding Lark up away from the girls I caught him petting her. So, yeah, he was pretty nice. The only manga he reads are Chibi Vampire and Vampire Knight, though. Gamer, not manga addict. Sigh. He was nice, though. 

Isaac and his sister left first, and then it started raining, so I came home. Grandma had eaten about six, when I came home to set her dinner out, and when I got home for good she was watching Antiques Roadshow. Sid suggested that she hasn't really been feeling social, and I think this is possible. Hm. Is this something I should worry about?

Pit bull

We just got home from church. We had Psalm 133 again, the one psalm I've seen so far to, despite mangled words and a different tune, be set to a familiar tune. I believe the Scottish Psalter's rendition goes, "Behold how good a thing it is when brothers..." uh, no more by memory, but basically, brothers dwelling in unity is a good thing, not unlike ointment running down Aaron's beard onto his clothes or dew on Mount Hermon. So, it was nice singing a familiar tune, but I didn't really get my voice right. 

Sermon was Part 2 on Colossians 1:1,2, this time discussing the meaning behind Paul's greeting. A condensation would be "you're saints, God's people; faithful, believers; and brothers, as members of my family, the church." I didn't fall asleep--took some notes. We stopped to talk to some people afterwards. One lady, Mrs. Marble, had just with her family joined the church. They're living in a hotel right now, having just moved down from Wasilla, Alaska to be near the son in the Air Force Academy. Three sons and a daughter were visible today, but I understand there are more. Talking to her was fun--she told me that when they saw me behind Philip, they started making bets on sister/"special other". She had her money on sister, because of the way Phil walked in front. Heh. She did ask, uncertainly, was I a younger sister? Bwaha. Anyway, she suggested we come see them, and I'd like to. I also got to talk to Mrs. Boonzaijer and Mrs. Reese. I like 'em both. I saw Tava, but we didn't run into each other.

I got to wear the dress Sid gave me for the first time. It's a lovely chocolate brown, made of some delightfully smooth fabric. It's cut flatteringly, too. There's a matching jacket, but I decided against wearing it, and Grandma gave me the run of her scarf drawer for some color to break up the brown. I went with a sort of reddish amber scarf on my head, but there are several others I'd like to wear with this dress. Having decided on the scarf with me, Grandma thought of a jacket in her closet, which Aunt Ann had given her and which was much too small for her-- the sleeves were a little short even for me. It turned out to be of metallic gold thread interwoven with a gray base. It went very well with the dress, and was quite warm enough. It wasn't much help at the end, though--it began to rain as we were coming home, and I didn't even put it on when we got home. The rain is still coming down in sheets, and it began to thunder as we were eating lunch. The effect, from inside the greenhouse, is rather like going through one of those aquarium tunnels, where one is surrounded by water and fish.

Once the rain stopped, about four o'clock, Lark and I moved out. We went up the treasure-hill and around through the houses to the mountain road again. This time, however, we met someone at the top of the road: an uneasy older gentleman with a chocolate-colored pit bull. He got a good grip on her when he saw us, explaining that while she was very well-behaved most of the time, she was something of a dominatrix, making a lot of noise when asserting herself, and besides he didn't always know what she would do, having gotten her from the pound over a year ago. So they went on ahead, his dog shooting ahead of him when he let her off the lead. We followed circumspectly. I do rather wonder what he thought when we didn't pass them--duh--and he didn't meet us coming back up, either. Probably that we had gone back early; but in point of fact we did our usual dropping-off-a-cliff trick, going down the steep but fairly easy slope.

After dinner Phil had a movie for me to watch: Shaun and the Dead. If Gordon Freeman worked in an electronics store and was trying to protect multiple people, you'd be pretty close. Nice slow zombies, of course, and you have to take the head out, but.....yeah.

Now going off to read Angel Wars and similar until I get in the shower. I hope Trina's been on. Haven't seen her all day. Maybe too much family action.....the collegiate sibs are still home, I believe.

Loldogs

Everybody slept in. I believe Lark enjoyed it, but as I was not under the covers, having fallen asleep waiting for Grandma to get out of the bathroom, I was not warm. I ended up taking a shower after breakfast, and washing my hair.

Grandma started making a do-list at breakfast. T_T Philip vacuumed all the carpets, and I mopped the kitchen and greenhouse floors. Next we're running errands: taking the dishes back to their owners, for one. Meanwhile, clouds have moved in after this morning's sun, and all in all it looks like rain. I wonder if we'll get soaked again...?

Well, we took the dishes back. Norma didn't seem to be home, so we left hers on her (covered) porch; Joan was too far across town, so we gave hers to Jinn; and Philip found Jinn's condos relying on Google Maps and instinct alone. Jinn was happy to see us, and invited us in. She has a very nice kitchen, as far as decorating-induced mood goes. I asked her about bridge, and she says they're happy to come over as soon as Grandma's ready. Need to talk to Grandma about that. There's also a luncheon in, I think, early June they want her for. Noted. Jinn showed me over her house, saying that while she preferred the country it wasn't bad once you got used to it. Discussing the sort of place she'd like to have (a small acreage, with chickens, ducks, and geese), I asked, "No goats?" She conceded a couple of goats, and told me a story about her dad. Apparently he was in the habit of buying things from auctions a reselling them. One purchase, brought home in the stock rack, was a small herd of goats. He brought them home and released them in the backyard, where Jinn's mother had hung out her wash. Oops. "Did she kill him?" I asked. "I thought for a minute she was going to," Jinn admitted.

Then we went to a liquor store, Philip having a yen for a beer he had, hitherto, only found at the Yard House. Here, having seen a sign at the door forbidding "children between the ages of 12 and 20", and a sign over the beer cooler saying that because of rising shoplifting in the economic downturn (no, really) purses longer than six inches had to stay in the car. Well, you know my purse. A foot if it's an inch. So, having found his beer, Philip handed me his keys and told me to head out to the car. Passing three employees and nearly bumping into two others (one at the inner door, one at the outer), I made it into the parking lot, where rain was falling heavily. I tried to unlock the car. None of the keys on the ring worked. I tried every single one, including the obvious house keys. I was still standing in the rain, trying keys, when Philip came out. He, of course, unlocked the door, no problem. "I think it would have ben more efficient if I'd just  checked out with you," I said.

We also went to K-mart, the vacuum cleaner needing a new filter. I had been thinking about hats lately, so this sounded good. I didn't find one for rain shedding, but I did find a nice one for just, you know, nice, which had been my other goal. It's tan, with neutral beads on a thong around the brim. I liked the blue one better, since it would have gone nicely with one of my skirts, but unfortunately its beads were anything but neutral and too likely to clash. So I got the safe one. *sigh*

Philip and I made salmon (him) and lemon rice (me) for dinner. Grandma's stove is....difficult. The settings are degrees of temperature, like an oven. Fortunately Grandma was nearby and awake, so I could just ask her. It all came out pretty well. Philip emphasized the salmon's Norwegian origin, which seemed to matter to Grandma too. This conveys nothing whatsoever to me.

Lark didn't get her walk until after dinner. Philip and I were both full, and his basketball game (Nuggets vs. Lakers) was on, but we managed a good long walk, making it home before full dark. We met no one, despite various interesting post-rain tracks in the sand of the trail. Drat.

Philip is watching the game now, at 9:25. I've been on icanhasahotdog.com, hence the goggies. I admit, there's a lot more variety there than one encounters on Heller walks. Now considering when to get into the shower, tomorrow morning being church. :s

Hey, cool. Clicking on 'em enlarges 'em.

A pictures post. Grandma wanted me to send some pictures of wildflowers to Robin, and while it's doubtful that this will be accomplished I do have some pictures for here. Philip helped me take them this afternoon.

see more dog and puppy pictures

Bichon Frise

Well, I managed to get up a few minutes after seven (read "under five"), stagger into Grandma's room, and crash on her bed to say good morning. Lark got her morning pettins there, since it took awhile for Grandma to get up too. Which was nice. People who get up too quickly are unkind to Larks. Anyway, by the time Grandma was finished in the bathroom, and I had the coffee going, Lark was ready to go out. As I passed the sitting-room I noticed Philip on the couch, which is something of an improvement over last week, when I noticed his car first.

After a morning of nurses, followed by lunch, Philip and I went grocery shopping. (Pocky = great. King Soopers has it.) We came home to find Carole in possession of the phone, directing Laurie here. She made it, eventually, and gave Grandma her haircut.

Philip and I went out on The Walk as Carole was about to give Grandma her shower. It was about three-thirty, and the clouds were heavy. It started to rain shortly after we got into the Heller estate, and intensified as we neared the crossroads by the rock. We met someone as we passed the pond: two older girls, a round redhead and a tall dark blonde, walking a Bichon. We exchanged compliments and passed on. It was raining pretty heavily as we reached the tree and rock, and we spent awhile sheltering under the tree. I was fairly dry, having worn my bomber jacket and camos, but Philip was soaked long before we got home. Philip decided to keep along the trail, but as the rain fell faster we stopped and sat under another tree. It was not dry, but we stayed for several minutes before going on, in the direction of home. As we passed the water on the other side, the girls with the dog came back along the far side, one calling out that it was a nice day for a walk. I agreed, and we kept on for home. When we got there Philip's shirt was dripping, my jacket was heavy with water, and Lark still had enough energy for towel wrestling.

Dinner was bisonburgers, produced by Philip, and really very good. After dinner we're going to go see Star Trek.

Well, it's just after midnight, and we're back from seeing a very fun movie. First off: all the young crew are pretty cute. Kirk is hot. Spock, not quite so much--I enjoyed Nimoy in his cameo more. But Scotty was hilarious and Chekhov just plain cute. Not attractive: more the sort you'd want to, um, foster, than date, precisely. He gave the overpowering impression of immaturity. Enterprise was shiny new in the middlish-beginning, but by the end I already felt sorry for the poor ship. What do they put it through, for all those years of episodes? Speaking of the show, I asked Philip if Shatner's Kirk got beaten up quite so much. It would be difficult for this to be the case: from his first appearance as a young man, right through the climax, people are punching him, throttling him, and throwing him against hard surfaces. Not that he's weak: he just....ends up in these....situations. I mean, he got Spock to throttle him on purpose, he very effectively provoked those cadets in the bar, and....okay, the Romulan throttling him wasn't really his fault. Or the other Romulans on the planet drill. Or the wildlife on the snowy star Scotty was stationed on. I kept waiting for bigger fish in that bit. Only two, I'm afraid. Philip elbowed me fairly consistently, even though I was mostly whispering, and I made the gentleman next to me laugh at least twice. I did swallow quite a few remarks, especially the ones that couldn't be expressed concisely. I still got a fair number of elbows in the side.

I need to embark on the process of getting to bed--beginning with telling Trina I went to see it. 

Two Goldendoodles

Everybody slept in 'til eight. It's cooler today, more like yesterday, when it was nice and cool until we were ready to hike, than preceding days.

We had lunch early so Grandma could take her nap. It rained the entire time we were at the table and then some. Amazing. Anyway, Grandma got a good nap, and then Diane came about one-thirty and did arm exercises with her. After she left we did some neatening up, and then the Rector came about three. I must confess to some enjoyment of having a rector visit, but he's something of a disappointment--he wouldn't even pet Lark, and when I told her to give up, he said it was fine, he'd just ignore her.........THIS MAN THINKS HE CAN IGNORE MY DOG??? Clearly he possesses a heart of stone.

Amazingly, the cool weather has held. Lark and I need to hurry up and take our walk, but I don't know how long the Rector will be here and she'll need help getting back up from the sitting-room. To top it off, I was getting the water-can for the palm down there when the doorbell rang, and if Grandma wants to see him in the sitting-room I'm not coming in with a watering-can.

Oh, help, he's interrogating Grandma about me. He's also the first person to have gotten my age right, drat him. >.> :s 

And I just realized I left the dust-rag down there. Kill me now. I'm sorry, Grandma.

I don't think she noticed, though. I doubt he did, but it's the principle of the thing.

I got punched in the stomach by a Goldendoodle. We finally got out on our walk at about four-forty, the weather holding cool and cloudy, with occasional spatters of rain. I, for a wonder, calculated my clothing right, it being pleasantly cool with a sweater on. The air nibbled gently at my face, pretending it was about to bite through my clothes but never doing so. We took the short loop around the pond and back, Lark tearing off as if by unclipping her leash I had lit a fuse. I was wondering, as we neared the end of the trail, if we weren't going to meet [i]anyone[/i] (a waste of a Heller hike, as far as I'm concerned--I need at least one dog a day!) when I heard jingling. Hopefully collars, but maybe just a bike. Lark was off in the brush, and I wondered if I'd be able to keep her out of the way of whoever impended. I caught a glimpse through the branches that suggested someone on a bike, then came clear of the trees into the creek bed and saw the surge of dogs. He wasn't on a bike, he was just tall. I called Lark, hoping I could catch her collar, but as Lark decided she needed to investigate the man called, "It's okay, they're friendly!" Well, I should hope so if you're walking them off-leash, but I gave up and watched as two dogs lolloped forward: one enormous, one Lark's size but stockier, both covered in short curls the color of pale sand. It was about then that the big one got me a full-body hit with his nose. "Oof," I gasped. "Right in the stomach!" "Are you okay?" the man asked. I reassured him, Lark having trained me in the reflexive stomach tense, and we watched the dogs swirl about. "Are they Labradoodles?" "Goldendoodles." "They're cute!" Lark was rather hard-pressed by the pair, and I picked her up. They continued on their way, and I carried her until they were out of sight......making this the third day in a row. The other two days were on Stanton, though, and this is the first day we've been here that she made it home still high. 

I had to fix dinner myself for once, never mind that it was a glorious parade of leftovers. I heard Father Paul asking Grandma if I could cook: why, yes, a little, but why cook when there's so much that needs eating up? So it was chicken and rice, set out to thaw before Lark and I went out; herb salad, which has gallantly sustained us through several meals and two rounds of sandwiches; watermelon chunks, which accompanied pork chops from the wonderful woman who gave us disposable dishes; reheated cornbread and a dinner roll; and Grandma had some blackberry (not blueberry--Grandma figured out what the stuff is) cobbler for dessert. I let Lark out during the sitting-while-Grandma-finishes-up period, and when I went to suggest she come in, the brat whirled away in a clear invitation to play. I did. Note: on a cool day, do not come back in under three hours or the dog won't stop. Wuuuuurrgh......

After dinner Grandma watched an English episode of Antiques Roadshow and I finished Cousin Kate. When it was over she had me get her into PJs and read two (admittedly short) chapters of The View From the Folding Chairs. That done I had to go look "bailiff" up in the dictionary, that being what Michala Miller is and neither of us knowing what it meant in her case. Having ascertained that she was someone who kept order in courtrooms, I was discovering that the dictionary didn't have "assinego" (Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, someone being rude, "An assinego may tutor thee," also quoted when Vincent is being rude about Claude teaching Hugo not to speak Yorkshire in The Unknown Ajax) when the phone rang. Doug was asking if there was anything more I needed in Care Package Mk. II, the first having been mailed already. It was nice talking. Heck, it's nice talking to anyone at home, or even typing. Even Philip razzing me is a nice brotherly pastime. *prays he'll miss this "detail".....unhappily doubts it* He hasn't been very bad, anyway.

Now for an hour or so pretending I'm going to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. Hey, maybe I will. Be nice, anyway.

Two Golden Retrievers, a spaniel and a pit bull

So, having gotten myself to sleep by about 11:15, I woke up at a quarter to seven this morning to discover that my alarm clock had reset a couple of hours ago. I reset everything, including the alarm, and dozed off until Lark scratched at the front door and we went and got the paper. It was seven when we got back in, and I gave up. I got dressed and made coffee, and as Grandma seems to be still asleep, Lark and I had some cuddle time. ......Grandma woke up about eight. Wow.

Lee and Karen came by this morning. Lee had Grandma practice using her cane, and Karen set up a telemonitoring system that takes Grandma's vitals and sends them to an office somewhere that decides whether or not to worry about them. Karen left about eleven-thirty, and then we had lunch off leftover chicken pasta casserole from Joan night before last. I love that stuff.

We left on our walk about 1:10, with Grandma asleep and one goal in mind. I wanted to see if, from the Heller estate, one could reach the dirt road that we took down the mountain yesterday. So we started on the Heller walk, taking the trail that loops around a tiny pond until it branched, a hundred yards or so past the water. There is a large rock at the branching, with a tree opposite it on he far side of the path. I stopped here to distribute fluids (I had decided that if Lark and I were going to be going on walks this long I would have to carry water) and here another hiker passed us. He had been trying to avoid us ever since we first glimpsed one another out in the open, but unfortunately for him the path he had taken looped around a hill and rejoined the trail shortly after we passed. He gave up and passed us--going by on the far side of the tree--and giving me an opportunity to make sure that it was a man, because he had long, thick hair, of a very light brown or a dark blonde, and was not particularly muscular. If it makes him feel any better I will say that once I got a decent look I was pretty sure he was male. The close-up just confirmed it. I called Lark away from him, he looked so uncomfortable. Possibly he had been hoping for a completely solitary hike. He shouldn't have picked that trail. Anyway, we took the branch leading southeast, my goal being the well-off neighborhoods that lined the valley on the far side of the mountains behind Magpie Hill. I found them, eventually, and we wandered through, now both tired, and with Lark leashed once more. A golden cocker spaniel barked at us from behind the corner of his house. I think he was tied up back there, so that he could just get his head around the corner. We stopped at a park and I offered Lark water again. She took a few swallows and then knocked over the tupperware with her leash. Lovely. We continued uphill, me wondering if I had enough water to get us home if it was still a long way, and Lark wondering how much farther before she could flop on the nearest cool surface. Fortunately, as I was wondering whether to take a downhill road through an apartment complex or investigate a "No Outlet" area that looked rather like the cul-de-sac I had found my road from, a nice youngish lady came out of the apartment complex with an extremely large, somewhat overweight and middle-aged Golden Retriever and a sleek white pit bull with brown patches on his head. I asked if there was an outdoor spigot (not that she had seen) and we exchanged compliments on our dogs. I asked about the road I was looking for, and she told me the cul-de-sac I had been eyeing was the place. I followed her in that direction, Lark hiding behind me whenever the middle-aged gallant made advances. We encountered a lady with a well-grown Golden puppy carrying a stuffed frog (I think. You know how it is with plushies) who made cheerfully swaggering advances toward me. I petted him while Lark investigated something else, enjoying the privileges of those with only one leash to hold. If it comes to that, the pit bull was probably stronger, though, and her Golden was about as easy to restrain as a horse. Anyway, the woman with the two dogs pointed me in the right direction, I thanked her, and the rest of the trip was about the same as yesterday, except for the human variety. There was a well-muscled young man apparently loading an expensive-looking (I draw this conclusion from my glimpse of the interior, which was of the two-seater cockpit variety) silver sports car, with an unfamiliar form of rap thumping from its speakers. The best moment was as we trudged down Stanton, though. A series of cars had whipped by, and Lark was looking increasingly miserable. I offered my arm for her leg up, if interested, and she gave me the look that says, "Oh, I'd love to but I just don't have the energy to get up there!" Right. -_-;; So I crouched and picked her up. As I was straightening another car went by, and I had a very good view of the driver's face. His mouth was open. :o I carried her about twenty yards or so, and set her down at the end of Jackie Adcock's driveway to offer water. She conveyed that water would be all very well in the kitchen at home. Otherwise, no thank you. I poured it back into her Nalgene and we walked on. We got home at a quarter to three.

......And I fell asleep on Grandma's bed. Oops.

Dinner was provided by Carol, I think her name was: a largeish lady undergoing treatment for cancer and consequently eating out most of the time. Tonight's dinner was at the Black-eyed Pea; it was roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans. Speaking as someone who hasn't had to cook a meal the whole time I've been here, it was great. She provided vegetables, drinks, even dessert. She even brought plastic utensils. Speaking as someone who listened to Ruth Reichl from Cortland to Colorado Springs, it was pretty bad. The roast beef tasted odd, the green beans tasted like they'd been cooked with the beef, and the dessert was blueberry cobbler of unmitigated sweetness and uncomfortably crunchy seeds. The mashed potatoes were the best part, followed by the white rolls. To top it all off, Carol even made me glad we hadn't gone out with them as she had suggested by joking that I would probably have preferred a hamburger and fries by now. I am perfectly capable of enjoying a decent meal, thank you, and, so far, preferably home-cooked. Grrrr.

As Grandma was finishing up with dinner (she barely touched her meat) and after I had read a delightfully short chapter of The View From the Folding Chairs, Madeline-the-cat appeared, once more out of bounds. This is the signal for me to put my sandals on and call Lark, and we charge out to chase Maddy back where she belongs. Lark really enjoys it, and I always get to chat for a bit with the Seamans, as the cat only comes out when they do--in this case, as they had dinner. They were down to drinks when we came, and we had a nice talk about various things. I came back just in time to help Grandma get her pajamas on, and she's just gone to bed, having reiterated her position on the beneficial qualities of going to bed before eleven. Yes, ma'am. I'm workin' on it, ma'am. Kinda. She also asked if I showered on a particular day, which had the effect of reassuring me about waking her up at night while I'm in the bathroom. It was when I mentioned this that she mentioned earlier bedtimes. Mwerf.

Yummy updates and rereads. Shower now. Nighty night.

(Until Death Do Us Part; Kiss ni Hayaku; rereads: Kirai; Kare Kano.)

Should I do a post an update, or stick to a post a day?

Doberman Pinscher

Well, I went to bed rather later last night than.....scheduled, with the result that I jumped out of bed as soon as the alarm went off, pumped with adrenaline at the knowledge that I would sleep in if I didn't. I am now feeling miserably sleep-deprived....hopefully I can snatch some sleep before I walk Lark, because otherwise I will be death on toast.

Lark and I went over to chat with the Seamans for a bit, standing in the driveway in bare feet. They have sharp gravel, but it was nice talking. Ralph is, wonder of wonders, being careful with his shoulder--he says he doesn't want to have to do the surgery again. How surprisingly sensible.

Lark has been enjoying my discovery that I can just let her out and usually see her from the greenhouse. Supervised unsupervision for the win. :p

I'm reading a webcomic titled "Alien Dice". It's not particularly original, the accompanying writing is so stylistically awful that I mostly just read the comic, and the occasional flashes of greatness in the art are all that keeps me going. I'm also rereading The Corinthian, and, because it's finally completed, finishing Houkago Hokenshitsu-- After School Nightmare--Setona Mizushiro's most harrowing work, as far as I'm concerned. Diamond Head was pretty angsty too, a bit worse than my favorite so far, Shoujo Ningyo, Doll Girl. 

Well, Philip called just before lunch to check up on us, and then Grandma's hairdresser called to try to find out how to reach Grandma. I told her that Grandma's home now, and I believe she made an appointment to cut Grandma's hair here. Then while Grandma was still on the phone Linda, the occupational therapist, rang the doorbell. She was talking to Grandma when Carole showed up. :D It was kinda funny. Carole is a tallish (which is to say, taller than me, though maybe not that much) woman with brown hair cut to her shoulders, currently wearing a bright t-shirt and a long denim jumper with sunflowers embroidered on the front. Not quite as impressive as Lee's blue and green coordination, but rather nice.

We went for our walk while Grandma was in the shower, about one-thirty, perhaps, and got back close to three-thirty. We went by the Seamans' first, and spent some time chatting while Lark and Madeline played Pop goes the Weasel through the house. It was pretty funny--whenver Lark retreated, which wasn't often, Maddy advanced unobtrusively. Sid told me to come by on our way back as she had some clothes I might like, and then we went up to the top of the ridge, with Lark leading the way a great deal of the time. I asserted myself occasionally, as for instance when she went in entirely the wrong vertical direction, or took a path under very low branches. But it was pretty well up to her all the way to the top. Once up we followed the trail along the ridge, as usual not bothering with finding the Treasure. We followed the trail to its end in a wealthy neighborhood where I leashed Lark and tried to keep her off lawns and well-mulched flowerbeds. As we went through a young Doberman ran out on its lawn and barked at us. A human followed it to the door, and it did not come out in the street. They were the only visible life as we went along the loosely-defined block--we had come out into a cul-de-sac--and found a road that seemed to go in the right direction. It looked like a dead end, but closer inspection discovered the red dirt road I had seen from the ridge, leading down to the dormitory parking lot. It was posted--"University of Colorado Property. NO TRESPASSING. Violators Will Be Prosecuted."--but it went where I wanted to go and it looked like nothing else did. It went down the mountain in three stretches, zig-zag-zig, and after periodic consideration of the slopes we ended up just going off the road at the end of the first zig. It was fairly easy ground for all its near-verticality, and I maintained control until the last six feet, which were landscaped and steep. These were easily traversed with that run where you just try to move your feet fast enough to keep up with your body, and we made it to the parking lot. I'm considering stopping going through there. There are too many young people, and a lot of the guys look at me. Compliment or not, it's unnerving. This problem extends along Stanton as we walk home, with Lark exhausted and me worrying about getting a drink for her. I'm going to have to carry water if we keep this up, which I intend to. We made it to Sid's, where she supplied water, and then a fairly large heap of clothing. The best part was the fabrics. She finds the most amazing fabrics. So we chatted awhile, and then she escorted me home with an armful of clothes, a book set in WWII Japan, and a potted palm that had been in Grandma's sitting room and is now there once again. Anyway, she and Grandma chatted for awhile--apparently she has some hope of a new medication that may help her pain go away and possibly even let her hike again, which is relevant to my interests. She was here almost an hour, I think, and shortly after she left Harriet appeared with pork chops, roasted veggies, and watermelon chunks--all in disposable dishes. Wonderful woman.

Dinner was easy to prepare: thank you, Harriet. I went out twice, during the sitting-after-dinner and the sitting-after-dessert periods, to herd--to assist Lark in herding Sid's Maddy-cat back to her. Maddy seems to have an unfortunate interest in the bank along the road behind the house, and she went too far along it both times. Lark was delighted to remedy the situation.

Well, having gotten out of the shower just at eleven, I am now headed for bed. Please, keep me from going back to Cousin Kate......No fear, I'm too tired.

 

Coyote

Mom and Grandma just called me into the greenhouse to watch a fat, healthy coyote go through the backyard! He was very handsome, and not at all shy. Lark, who was tied out, didn't even notice him from where she was lying in the shade of the garden. Silly dog. He saw me coming into the greenhouse with my glasses and trotted away into the Seamans' back yard.

Karen, the nurse, came for Grandma's INR almost an hour late, and after she left Mom and I went to the library. I got some Heyers, a Pratchett, and the last Bujold omnibus, Miles in Love. I've read the books in it, but there's a short story included which is otherwise unavailable. We also found Dick Francis' autobiography, which I'm going to read aloud to Grandma.

Mum left about ten-thirty or so. I spent some time on the comp, finishing "Two Lumps", and when Grandma got up from her nap we had leftover corn chowder for lunch. Once Grandma went down for her nap, Lark and I went for our walk. We were out about half an hour, going up toward the Treasure, sheering off along the side of the ridge, and heading down to the dorm parking lot once we got past the barbed-wire boundary fence. From the parking lots we went along Stanton home. One advantage to dog-walking in Colorado is that little black dogs wear out faster than girls in white T-shirts. *evil grin* So, yes, I'm beat when we get back, but she's more beat. Bweheheheh. One.....is it a downside?.....point about going past the dorms is that there are a lot of younger people going along the road there. Intimidating but not necessarily bad, I guess. I got some points today, though--a young guy who snapped his eyes away when I looked up. Muahaha. It's interesting not being the self-conscious tongue-tied one, even if there's no actual interaction.

Once we got home Lark and I went and camped with Miles in Love at the bottom of the garage stairs. It's a very effective method of recovery, and I got sidetracked into the denouement of A Civil Campaign while looking for the beginning of the short story.

The physical therapy lady is here. She's a sturdy-looking lady named Lee, currently engaged in energetic discussion of Grandma's chances of recovery with Grandma. 

.....Whoa, that was awhile ago. Grandma and I just finished dinner, which was a sort of chicken noodle casserole kindly supplied by a bridge friend named Joan. The best of the meal was the after-dinner show, though. :3 It was getting dark, and about to rain, when deer started coming through! First it was just one with six-inch antlers off to the left of the greenhouse. He was followed by several more through there, until Grandma sent me to see if there were any visible from the studio. There was one right there by the balcony, on the patch of lawn between the steps and the driveway! He spooked like a lamb when I came through the door, but I froze and he decided I wasn't an imminent threat. He looked about a little more, flicking his ears like a sheep, before walking off along the path to the mailbox. The show ended with seven young bucks grazing on the lower lawn.

......Mum just called. That was at eight-twenty, and it's eight thirty-five now. In the meantime I helped Grandma get into her PJ's--which, while slightly less embarrassing than I anticipated, is still a bit--and clipped her toenails. Which is something of a relief, because it needed doing.

I finished "Winterfair Gifts", the short story about Miles' wedding. Is very good. I very much recommend it to you stay-at-homes who can't because the cheapskate library won't get it. *evil grin* Make that cruel. *cruel grin*

Schnauzer/spaniel

Mom got me up in good time to get ready for church, since I don't shower in the mornings. I did have some ironing to do, but in the end it was Philip who delayed us--not enough for me to be obnoxious about it, sadly. We arrived in good time, and I was glad to find that the first psalm had a very simple tune, easy for me to follow. Philip claims that they're all hard for him. The sermon was about the Epistle to the Colossians, focusing on the debate over its authorship. Apparently there's a theory prevailing that the actual author was merely an obscure disciple of Paul, rather than Paul himself. Pastor Reese presented the evidence for--slightly different style, mainly--and evidence against: of course the style's different, one's style changes throughout one's life and besides he had a lot of different scribes, and this was a cooperation with Timothy, and does one really want to trust the opinion of someone who doesn't even blink at the idea of forging a letter from Paul? By a follower of his teachings? No. Anyway, I stayed awake very well once I started taking notes, and all in all it wasn't bad. As soon as we were dismissed the little kids stampeded, though. :p

The Home Health Care lady came a bit after we got home, and she talked to Mom while I computerized. As I'm going to have to be fairly close to Grandma whenever she's not firmly established, say, in bed, I'd better take this opportunity while I can. And Mom told Philip over lunch that I have algebra, so unless I stow it in the car when Mom leaves this may be a problem. She told 'im three lessons a week. Gurk.

I'm reading a new webcomic. Two Lumps, found on Keenspot, is about two cats. If you wanna know more, besides the main point which is that it's hilarious, go to twolumps.net. So there.

Philip is talking about going on a trip with Luke this summer. Luke may take a little persuasion, and he's not sure where to yet, but I expect he'll do it. Besides, Luke wants to visit Front Sight again before they shut down or change owners or whatever. The business is in receivership, whatever that's supposed to convey, and Mad Dog is crowing because he hates the guy in charge. Okay. I admit, it's pretty funny the way Phil tells it. Anyway, wherever they go, Philip wants to know if Doug would be interested in going. Possibly it goes without saying that I'm interested.

Lark and I went out about three or so. We took the shorter loop 'round the pond on the Heller trail, encountering a nice older couple on the far side of the tiny pond. The lady had a cute little (that means medium, for most people) grey dog on a lead, and she asked right off if Lark was an Australian Shepherd. She was very admiring of Lark's coloring, and kindly warned me to be careful, hiking alone. Her husband smiled and didn't say much, but I liked his face. Lark was rather intimidated by the little dog, a Schnauzer/spaniel mix named Tucker: he was very interested in her, and it worried her rather. She did not, however, go so far as to climb all the way up when I let her put her forepaws on my arm. I did rather get the impression she was thinking about it, though--perhaps she was too tired to do it unnecessarily. We were both beat long before we reached the main trail, at which point we were overtaken by a tersely polite gentleman on a bicycle. He passed us and went off on the road, where he had a much easier time of it than on the trail we had been followed, which was very narrow, and followed a creek bottom toward the end. Not terrain I should wish to ride a bicycle on.

Philip left for Golden right before dinner, which was chicken and rice, courtesy of Norma, and followed by English toffee ice cream. Nom! After dinner Grandma had me read out loud: The View From the Folding Chairs, by Michala Miller. Apparently Micky Miller was a neighbor when Grandma lived in Walden, and used to play with Chuck, Grandma's younger brother. Grandma says she was rather older than they--it sounds to me something like Doug and me with the Amen boys, but perhaps that's a bit off. After I finished the chapter she told us about her memory of the CCC, the Civilian Conservation Corps, created to supply jobs during the last Depression. She was eleven, and had pneumonia, and the only doctor in town, who was not a GP but an osteopath, had to borrow antibiotics from the CCC camp.

Awright!! New Shi ga Futari no Wakatsu Made chap! Mamoru finally shows up! And hey, what do you know.....looks like Haruka has some friends.

Rest of the evening spent reading "Two Lumps" and The Black Moth, fiddling with my Pandora channels (a depressing occupation), and trying to figure out what nameless outdoor menace Lark is barking at. I shall now proceed to shower and bed. Probably. Soon.

Rottweiler

I'm having to write this Sunday, as the Mac was down all Saturday afternoon. >.> (Doug's translation)

Philip got in about twelve-thirty and crashed on the couch, which was vacant while Mom slept in Grandma's room. I didn't even realize he was here until I let Lark out about six and saw the Vic.

We brought Grandma home in the morning, after rather more time than I expected spent packing up and doing paperwork for the nurse. I didn't see Rocker again, but I wouldn't have been able to give him much attention so oh well.  I spent a lot of time riding the elevator, as Grandma was on the third floor and I made a lot of trips between her room and the car, carrying clothes, potted flowers, and books. We made it out about nine-thirty, having spent about an hour waiting, on Mom's part, for the nurse to bring the papers. We got home just as Norma, one of Grandma's neighbors, showed up with a pan of lemon bars, part of the conspiracy to fatten Grandma up. I'm afraid they're going to succeed better with me. She stayed and chatted awhile; Lark was very well-behaved, refraining from jumping and licking.

While Grandma napped Mom and I went shopping for groceries. We went to King Soopers because Philip said they had the best chance of carrying Starbucks ice cream. They didn't, but there was a coupon for it on our receipt, so we'll have to try again.

After lunch, kindly supplied by Jinn (leading member of the aforementioned conspiracy), we watched the Preakness Stakes on Grandma's TV. It was much better quality than the Derby we watched a few years ago, and there was lots of footage of the beautiful horses. I was hoping for Mine That Bird, the winner of the Derby; unfortunately, he made his bid too late, and came in second to Rachel Alexandra, the first filly to win the Preakness since Nellie Morse, eighty-five years ago. Good for her, but no Triple Crown again this year. :/

It was late afternoon by the time Lark got her walk. We went down on the Heller Center trail, taking a side-trail off the main road. It turned out to lead past a very small pond, the probable home of the heron Mom and I saw when we first drove in. We passed a group of boys on that trail; the youngest was primarily interested in Lark, remarking the first time we passed, "That's the same dog as ours!" The second time we were on the same trail passing each other, and he got a much better look as he brought up the rear of his group: "I don't think that's a Bernese." "No," I said softly, "She's an Aussie." I feel better about that exchange than those toward the front of the cavalcade. The first boy apologized when Lark bumped his nose on his leg, which was nice of him, and I really wish I had been able to say something along the lines of "It's okay." And I really wish I had thought to tell the boy who shrieked and drew back when we came past not to be a wimp. He annoyed me, and I only thought of anything but ignoring him when they had been gone a full minute. Oh well. Such are the trials of human interaction. 

The trials of canine interaction were, in this case, a lack thereof, and came as we were heading back along the main trail. I heard voices when I had almost reached the turn where the trail goes uphill, and I turned around to see a gloriously enormous Rottweiler come bounding out of that side-trail. His master called him back, and the second time I saw him he was coming out with two people. They went along the under-construction actual road, and were well along it when the dog spotted Lark and began to sheer in our direction. I hoped he would come talk to us, but his master called him back without seeing what he was going toward, and I didn't get to meet him. As the two people with him were college-age boys carrying their shirts, my disappointment is mixed with a little relief.

The evening ended with me rereading Heyer, in particular Powder and Patch. It's one of her earlier novels, a Georgian, and while it's not quite up to her later standard I had forgotten just how entertaining it is. It also left me with the strong desire to read The Masqueraders, ever my favorite of her heroine-in-disguise stories. When Philip and Mom finally finished War of the Worlds on Phil's laptop via the TV, I got the monitor cable back and managed to check the manga.  There were several good updates. :3

Golden Retriever

Well, having left home at six this morning, we made it to Grandma's house at three CST, an hour early for our appointment at the Center, which was for three Mountain time. So we had forty-five minutes to, uh, recruit our strength, and then we went to see Grandma and learn procedures. 

She is very, very thin. Really thin. It's scary. She looks like she could just break. With preventing this in view, the therapist demonstrated what we should do when Grandma uses the stairs, what exercises I should have her do every day until the home therapy people come and tell me something completely different, and what I should prevent her doing. (Crossing her legs and otherwise turning in her left leg. The ball of her leg bone threatens to pop out of the socket if she puts too much stress on it, like letting that knee cross her midline.) I made mental notes and fortunately have printed notes for the exercises, because I know I wouldn't be able to forget those.

I also got to meet the therapy dog Mom told me about, because Brynn, the therapist abovementioned, is his handler. Rocker is a very mellow pale Golden Retriever, and it is fortunate he adores being petted, because that's his job: quietly and mellowly letting people pet him. He stayed with us all through his handler's talks, so I had the opportunity to pet him very thoroughly. He seemed to appreciate my Lark-honed Canine Massage™ technique--he ended up keeling over, half on my lap, and (still mellowly) asking for a tummy rub. And he doesn't precisely ask: nothing so aggressive. No, Rocker presents himself and hopes. When he saw Mom sitting in Grandma's room, he immediately went up to her and laid his head in her lap. He was approaching me hopefully every time I reencountered him: oh, it's that nice girl who does the thorough scratches. Will she pet me more?

Mom and I were discussing the probable cost of a dog specially bred and trained to behave like a comatose sheep. A Web search produced this paragraph, from the Susquehanna Service Dogs site:

The fee for purchasing one of our service or hearing dogs is $5,000. Clients may apply for a need-based scholarship. The actual cost is $20,000 to train and place each service dog or hearing dog. Because of many generous individuals and businesses providing in-kind services, we can provide these dogs at a cost of $11,000. The additional funding and the scholarships come from individuals, groups, contributions, corporations, and fundraising.

Right. Something like that. And Mum figures the cost would be more if it's a center, as opposed to a needy individual. Meep.

A couple of Grandma's friends came to her room while Mom and I were there. The first was a lady from her church, the wife of the organist who played at Mom's wedding. Shortly after her arrival came Jinn, a very old friend of Grandma's who is a joy to observe. Jinn has a round, brown, wrinkled face, and is short and very thin. She makes me think of a wren, and she's about as lively as a little bird. She and the ladies from church are all set to completely relieve me of any cooking duties short of managing leftovers, for which I am very thankful. Jinn also told me that if I ever wanted to go somewhere, while Grandma was napping, say, I should just call her. It's very nice of her, and while I'll try not to abuse her kindness it's nice to know I have the option.

Lark, o most wonderful of dogs, slept most of the way, drooled only slightly, and was in general very well-behaved. She was very glad to arrive, however, and settled in quickly. I'm afraid she hasn't had a walk today, though, so hopefully I'll be able to take her out tomorrow. First, though, we're going to get Grandma Jane from the Center and bring her home; around noon Jinn is coming over; and Philip is coming over, as some point undisclosed. Which is to say some time tomorrow.

And now I am very tired, having gotten up at five this morning, and so I will now begin to prepare for bed at the radical hour of 9:15 CST (eight here, if you wondered.)

Well, Snowflake, after days of looking as though she was about to pop any moment, finally gave birth yesterday to two beautiful healthy kids. Male and female, they're both white all over, with ears that can't seem to decide which parent to follow. We've very nearly chosen the names: Hail for the doe and Typhoon for the buck, taking the theme from Snowflake's name as Weather. Owen suggested Tsunami for the doe, but Sue and Ty....I don't think so.

No pictures so far, but I'll try to get some taken and posted.