Wolves

Well, got up at six-thirty, after going to bed some time after midnight, in order to go to Denver to take Mom to the airport. I slept in the car the whole way, which helped. After dropping Mom at the airport, Philip and I went to Mimi's, where he had breakfast. This one was a lot nicer than the Springs one. I'd already eaten and was still full, so I had strawberry lemonade. Very strong stuff. Anyway, fortunately I'd brought a Mrs. Pollifax in my purse, so I read while he ate.

After breakfast we went to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. They have an incredible number of animal dioramas, from manatees, kangaroos, wolves and deer to entelodonts and some sort of antelope creature. That was the Nebraska Woodland diorama in the dinosaur exhibit. The entelodont wasn't as colorfully ugly as the Walking With Prehistoric Beasts version--it was more drab, and while still ugly, less menacing. Philip and I discussed it and decided the best place to attack, if you were fighting the thing with a knife, would be the eye. Philip suggested the nose, too, but he was thinking for off scaring it off than killing it. It made me think of the beast Lissar and the dogs killed the night she was searching for the lost child. They had some pretty good casts of dinosaur skeletons, plus a few dioramas. There was one of a couple of Stygimoloch fighting--a type of pachycephalosaur, so they were fighting like bighorn sheep. Oh, and they had a Diplodocus cast. Nice. :D

We got home about one-thirty or so. It promptly started to rain, and we composed a shopping list until it stopped. Then we went to King Soopers. Philip took me to the library, too, where the only one of the three Sharing Knife books there Thursday was Passage. Feh. Well, thanks, big brother. I just wish I'd thought of it about an hour earlier than I did....of course, then someone would be cursing me. Hm. I wonder if I care?

We got home from grocery shopping and crashed. Grandma had to wake us up to make dinner. Lark helped her with me by climbing onto my stomach. I was more or less awake, if not alive, in time to slice onions and pickles for the bisonburgers without cutting off a finger, anyway.

As soon as the dishes were in the dishwasher I started booting up for a lark. We left at maybe ten to eight, and made the entire circuit before dark. It was close, but we made it in at eight-thirty. It was really nice out, too, after that rain: the creek was running, higher up; the air was cool, and filled with the smell of wet earth and vegetation; and, oh, the mosquitoes were out. Oops. I don't think I have any bites, though.

So Lark and I got a good walk in, but I think after the amount of sleep we both got today we'll be awake kinda late. Uh-oh. Well, if we don't watch MiB II I have plenty to read.

Read Dave Barry Does Japan, which while not actually a total waste of the money then made me wonder why the heck I had Dave Barry but not Amy Steinberger's Japan Ai, which is much more in tune to my interests, besides having great drawings and a complete lack of humorous artistic license. Gonna have to work on that, I suppose.

Fifteen pushups with a break in the middle; twenty situps nonstop. Went to bed much too late, but at least I got to sleep quickly, even after the long nap.

Husky/Sheltie, golden, dachshund

Larked at ten to nine. It was much too hot by the time we got home. We met the Husky/sheltie again, though. Her mistress asked if Grandma had kicked me out early again. Yeah, kinda, except it isn't even early anymore. Legacy thought she had to protect her mistress from Lark. Yeesh, and my dog hasn't even realized I need protecting from anything. Possibly just as well......

Started a series I've had on the wishlist for months. Watashitachi no Shiawasena Jikan, Our Happy Hours, is a manga adaptation of a Korean novel, with Sahara Mizu in charge. I've always liked Sahara Mizu; her works leave me with an indescribable feeling, a sort of disturbed peace. This one is no exception. It's the story of a young woman who doesn't play the piano any more and a young man on death row. As they open up to each other, we learn their stories, feeling their pain as they feel one another's. And as they teach each other to find meaning in life again, these two people, who have both tried to commit suicide several times, learn to hope--and to fear. There's one more chapter untranslated in the series, and it'll probably be a couple weeks before they release it.

Sahara Mizu is the only mangaka whose multiple tragedies I'll read, knowing for certain that they are tragic. --What is that word?It's a strange word.....What are its parts, how do they fit together? Maybe it's Greek.... Excuse me a moment...........Hm. Apparently the unreadable Greek root meant "goat-song." Latin derived from it "tragaedia," which came to Old French as "tragedie." Should've seen that coming.

I was reading Hourou Musuko by the time the man came to work on the swamp cooler. Patrick is a middle-aged Japanese man, shorter than I am, and he said the cooler has a bearings problem, which he will fix tomorrow. Right. Okay.

Mike came by after three to talk to Grandma. She brought one of the watermelons Grandma likes, Dulcinea from Safeway. I balled it for a watermelon salad, like the other night's. Mom got here about five, in time for dinner, and there was enough time for me to take Lark for a quick run before that--with the result that I was extra hungry, of course. 

We larked again at eight. Saw a woman out biking, who passed us quickly. Lark followed her, though, and when she was getting out of sight at the bend in the end of the slope I started to jog. Just as well, too--she'd met up with a dog. He was this little, hilariously round black and red dachshund. His people were on the turnoff to Nevada, with a golden wondering if he wanted to come over too. In the end, the dachshund went back to them, and they talked the goldie into coming while I told Lark she didn't need to go over. We, again, didn't even go all the way along the first leg. It was really buggy, and I had to have us back before dark. There was a young red buck feeding in the willows on the way back. He watched us suspiciously, not bolting even when Lark galloped past. I love it when the deer just watch....

Fifteen pushups again, no breaks, urgh. Twenty situps--getting easier. I have to take a break after the pushups or I don't make any progress with the situps, though.

They were playing Dvorak's New World Symphony when I went to bed. I lay awake listening trying to figure out what it was--my first guess had been Dvorak, but then there was plenty of time for second-guessing before the ninth movement, which is the bit I know really well--and then I think as soon as it got to the ninth movement and I went, "Oh, so it was Dvorak," and relaxed, I went to sleep. Oh well.