This morning did not get off to a good start. To begin with, Philip got me up about an earlier than expected. Thus I was up before Grandma. She was still in bed when I called Syd to ask if she was coming. She wasn't, having work today, so I went back and had breakfast. We seem to have gotten an extra paper, too, but that's only weird. It was later, after Grandma had gotten up, that there were real problems: she went into the bathroom and started having a spurting nosebleed. Philip got her back to bed with a roll of toilet paper to blot her nose, and I cleaned up the bathroom and started making phone calls. Summit Home Health Care told me to call the doctor, as he had to tell them before they could do anything. So, as instructed, I left a message. Then Grandma had me call Syd, and she and Ralph came over while I was getting dressed. They kicked me out to walk to the dog, and when I got back at nine-fifteen Philip had taken Grandma to the emergency room.

There followed a quiet afternoon of taking phone calls, and reading (or computing) in between. There was a call from Carole, Uncle Chuck, and Linda from the home nurse supply place, which last came just as I heard them getting into the garage. Grandma was very unsteady, so we got her to her room, and then fed her, and then she went to bed. Later in the afternoon she called a conference; its conclusion was that we'll continue here until next week. I had wondered if this would happen, back when I was beginning to get into going-home mode. Oh well. At least now I have a chance at going to the barbecue tomorrow night.

It was nice and cool when we larked; down on the road I even wondered if I would want a sweater, but I knew I'd warm up. I did, but not much--it was comfortably cool the entire time. The trail was pretty busy. We ran into the Serious Conversation couple at the beginning of the trail, then went without meeting anyone until the turn under the trees just before the pond. There we ran into about five young men/older teens. One was carrying a guitar case. The happily conversing knot reformed into a polite single file to let me pass; come to think of it, it was rather as if the teacher had come in. Hm. I got clear of them and stopped to whistle for Lark; her arrival was signaled by a startled shout behind me before she came tearing down the path. I wish very much I'd seen it when she erupted from the underbrush right next to someone. I can imagine it, but I wish I'd seen it. With our company reunited we advanced to deal with the couple ahead of us, (presumably dating) teenagers. The boy was bent over something, a cellphone, perhaps, as he walked along; the girl accompanied him silently. I don't think they noticed us once: we never passed them, as they passed our turnoff before I had to modify my pace to stay behind, and they never looked back. Probably they attributed my whistle to the boys. After those two we saw no one, but we could hear the boys' rowdy conversation all the way to the Heller Center, where it sounded as though they were in the summer house-thingy-building. I did not stay to investigate, as it was very nearly full dark.

After we got home I wrestled with the computer for a bit, then gave up on the agonizingly slow internet and went to make a float. Philip caught me on my way to the kitchen and dragged me down to the sitting room to, he said, exercise. There was a four-minute song, and we were to exercise until the end of the song. We started with pushups, standing up and raising our arms after each one. I think we made it to fifteen, with Philip waiting as I lagged. After that was crunches, touching elbows to opposite knees until my abs were jelly. Finally, to fill the time until the song ended, we did bridges. This is Philip's name for getting into the pushup stance and going down on elbows, with forearms planted on the floor. I think he interlaced his fingers, but I just made fists. I gritted my teeth and held it until the song ended, when I collapsed. Lark was so worried that the traditional post-torment snuggle ended with her on my stomach. She can just about deal with pushups and situps, those being more or less familiar, but anything else is most worrisome.

After that we made floats and watched Castle episode 3, which had for its theme teenagers in (or making) trouble. The downfall of our high-school mastermind was pretty lame. I'm still trying to determine whether it was so on purpose--he was a pretty obnoxious kid.

I finished Candide after that; the ending was pretty good--rather better than anything I'd expected. Started Waverley, then went to bed.

Husky/Sheltie

Bleh. Zombie blobs. I spent most of the dream waiting for everybody to be dead at the end. I think most of us were still alive when I woke up, though. It was all kinda weird, anyway....

We went for a walk about nine this morning. It was much too hot. We met one person, a man, with a familiar husky-sheltie in tow. Oh, and a man on a bicycle. Otherwise all sightings were at a distance. I think I should've gotten a boonie hat while I was at the army surplus. The hat I'm borrowing from the Seamans is nice, a good, natural color that doesn't jump out, but I'm gonna have to give it back eventually. Also boonie hats are crushable, so when I'm not wearing it it can just go in my pocket like everything else. I'll just carry a red scarf or something in my pocket in case I need to be visible for, say, a medical helicopter. Spellcheck, by the way, acknowledges "boonies" but not "boonie." Pft.

After I got home and recharged, Grandma had me do the kitchen floor. That was okay. Then I had to do the greenhouse. Geh. It is impossible to get the dog hair out of there enough to even half ignore it while scrubbing. I want my vacuum! 

Sid came just as I was starting in the greenhouse to discuss me looking after Maddy while they're gone. I have to go give her a little canned catfood and make sure she's alive Friday night, Saturday morning and evening, and Sunday morning. Well, sure, I can do that. For ten bucks. Seems reasonable. A day.  .........!!!!  Sid said if I felt like it was too much, I could go over there and read or something to keep her company a little. ............I'm getting my revenge by sending her pictures of adorable Craigslist dogs. Or expressing my gratitude, I don't know. I'm sending her ads, anyway.

Incidentally, I have got to remember that the clothing biases are completely different here. B would wince at the brown army t-shirt with the hemmed BDU shorts. Sid and Grandma say I look cute. -_-; Well, thanks, but.....it's very disconcerting. Not least because that's definitely not how it's designed to look. Not that I expect to look intimidating, but.....how about utilitarian?

Started Mistress to an Age before lunch. Finished the first chapter, plus all the prefaces, by the time Grandma said it was lunchtime.

There are six ads for Rottweiler puppies in the newspaper, plus one for a brindle male Rottweiler/mastiff puppy (tail docked) for....wait for it....$500. Plus various puppies and mixes (there were rottie/bloodhounds posted today) on Craigslist. Dad should come out here for a month or so. I'm sure Rick knows somebody he could stay with.

Jinn came by with some shopping commissions from the Sunshine Market and a negative review of the place. "It's overrated," she said, giving us a bag of cherries, cartons of blueberries and blackberries, and some lobster tails. Lark was delighted to see her. On a related note, I need to start letting her out more during the day. Actually, she's tied out right now, but that's due to trouble on the other end: some kibble got caught in her throat, and by the time she coughed it up, her gag reflex was thoroughly engaged an she couldn't stop throwing up. It improved somewhat after I put her out, but she's still retching a little, occasionally. It's raining now, though, so I'd better go let her in.

Grandma's wandering around without her cane. I think I'm going to have a heart attack.

It's four-thirty and raining buckets. With wind. And big fat drops. The windows are all shut and I can still smell the rain.

Dinner was the lobster tails. They were delicious. Grandma boiled them and served them with melted butter, and they were great. Note to self: when interested in a guy, try the Lobster Test: does he mind paying an arm and a leg? (You can skip this one. Split the cost or buy them yourself for dinner at home.) Do either of you mind watching the sort of messy eating lobster entails? How resourceful is he in figuring out how to eat the stupid things? I look forward to such an excuse. Lobster has a purpose! Yay! (Besides the physical and intellectual workout, of course.)

We larked a little after seven. The rain had mostly stopped, confining itself to a sporadic misting drizzle. It was cool out, and I wore a hoodie and my boots--which, naturally, turned out to be useless against tall wet grass. What astonished me was that the creek was running. Not all the way to the crossing, but there were signs--dried foam--and runnels, from earlier. Higher up it was going strong. It was noisy up at the culvert, where crossing the rocks was like walking over a symphony of water, possibly by Stravinsky. It began to rain as we came back up the Heller road, leaving me unsurprised that we met no one until Eagle Rock. A woman from the big house on the Circle was coming down from getting the mail. Lark was suspicious, but she wriggled up once we got closer. We cleared off when she almost pawed the woman's skirt. I went over later, after putting out the trash, to ask her if she wanted her trash hauled out; she was weeding the marigolds, and explained, through a thick accent, that her husband took it out every day--I'm not sure where: the noun was too accented. The people living there are widely said to be the parents of the Pole on the hill; nobody talks to them much, but Maria is thought to do for them. Possibly. It feels like a victory, though: contact made! I've been eyeing her for a while, you see.....

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.

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.)

Tension? Kinda.

First: Owen is trying to get a dog. An Irish setter. He wants a setter because he's been reading Jim Kjelgaard's Red series, which of course stars Irish setters.
Issues: He hasn't convinced Dad yet.
He has to earn the money.
Doug is worried that he's falling in love with something simply because of a book, which while perfectly acceptable in a seven-year-old is a bit much for a twelve-year-old.
While Mom and I think he has quite a good chance as long as he doesn't muff it, he is constantly falling into fits of pessimism as regards both his ability to raise enough money and his capacity for convincing Dad to let him get one.
I, while willing to support him until he either changes his mind or gets the dog, am getting sick of his paranoid dramas. If I say anything he doesn't like, he just goes, "Ha, I knew it. You actually don't want me to get a dog." I haven't lost it yet, but it is annoying. Little manipulator.


I think that about covers that.

Second: Dad is upset/tense about something.
Issues: No one knows what.
No one could do anything about it if they did.
Therefore no one is going to worry about it any more than they can help.

Third: Grandma Jane is in the hospital.
Issues: No one knows how strong she'll be after she heals.
No one knows whether she'll be strong enough to stay in her house.
No one knows what she's willing to do in the way of living with someone or similar.
Basically, no one knows what's going to happen, and we all have to live with that.


More generally, Mom once again is going to Colorado and hasn't yet decided who she's taking. I would adore to go again, whatever attendant circumstances, but only if Owen's staying home again. :\ As aforesaid, I have had enough--in only, what a week? Uh-oh. Anyway, wish me luck there. Actually, I'd like to stay there with Grandma Jane, keep her company and help where I can, but with her deteriorated condition I think what I can do isn't enough. I am finally putting some effort into learning to drive now, but if she can't drive at all I would have to be good enough to be driving, in the city, from the get-go. My present skill level? Practicing changing gears in an empty parking lot. I don't think we're there yet, sorry.

Awright! So Mom's going to CO to visit Grandma for her break, right? Well, she decided that I'm coming too. More importantly, it's just me. Well, and my dog. But the point is that Owen isn't. How cool is that? Of course, it's possible that she figured that if she stuck the three (four with Lark) of us together for a prolonged period again, the would be blood spatters on the windshield. Which is possible. But Yaaaaay! Of course, I'm going to be bored out of my mind with no one to talk to by about noon Wednesday, but it will be worth it. Besides, there's always Mom, Grandma, Lark, Trina, Sid, and possibly, to a certain extent, Phil. :d Besides the option of trying to catch the boys online, of course.

So on Friday Mom's going to head for Colorado. It looks like Doug's going with her, too, as insurance against flat tires and stuff. No way will she get one if someone's along who can change tires. This is always a big arghh, since I'll have to milk for him, and both of the people I can actually talk to will be gone, if only for the weekend. Still, I expect Grandma will be glad to have Mom, and it's possible that Mom will be glad to have Doug.

Paksennarion is following her Duke against the Honeycat, after that personage's troops killed a bunch of the Duke's soldiers, including one of Paks' best friends. Well, two, I guess. I suppose so. In between being on the comp I'm rereading The Unknown Ajax, which is Heyer.

I don't think Rip's leg is as bad as it was. The sheep and goats are all making free of the garden. It gets extremely irritating after a while. I was kinda surprised that Val didn't take exception to being shoved out like that, but he put up with it. It's gonna be a bit of a pain training a ram like that all over again with Tag, but it'll be worth it for the genetic variety and the reduction of the shearing ordeal.

Luffy has almost beaten Rob Lucci, and now his crew are having to fight off Marine Captains and Commanders. All the best fighters are always the weirdos. Fighting my way through 308. The computer has frozen up at least once, and we keep getting interrupted.

NICO ROBIN'S HANDCUFFS ARE OFF!

Episode 300 is on the list of my favorites. The first half is all Zoro, and he has a new technique. It's like 119 in Arabasta, only better. Total ownage. Just finished 301, which ends with Robin slapping Spandam with six arms at once. Sogeking has a star moment, fulfilling all the dramatic yearnings of his soul. And Merry is on the way. Luffy is fighting Lucci in Gear Second, and the Buster Call has begun. Ah--in case I never mentioned it, all of CP9 has had its collective behind kicked through three or four walls. Most of the members are dead, or seem to be. I hope Kaku isn't: he was the nicest.

Paksennarion has survived her first battle, and I'm on chapter 11.

Mom is talking to Philip right now. Grandma Jane is in the hospital from a stroke. It seems to have been pretty minor, as strokes go, and they're going to keep her in hospital for a few days.

The chat engine on OPseries.com is causing my punctuation to degenerate. *sigh*