Bad weather

Yesterday was icky snow, so I had my first experience driving in slippery conditions. I took Marcos home first, so I got some good advice (Marcos is from California, but he lived in Minnesota for awhile--I'll trust him) before I was on my own. Christine had already said I could stay with her if the roads got bad, but directions to her house from SCC don't have much in common with directions to her house from Marcos's house, especially after I made an unplanned turn onto Leighton in order to avoid rear-ending the giant black pickup in front of me at a stoplight. I had to navigate one of those insanely labyrinthine neighborhoods common to Lincoln before I could find 81st, and then I had to ask a lady shoveling her driveway in the early dark where I was in relation to Vine, Christine being a block north thereof. Fortunately I was still a little way north, and once I crossed Holdrege Christine called and directed me the rest of the way.

So then I had my first experience of an impromptu sleepover. Christine was a little hyper-hostessy, but we sat on the couch and watched movies until bedtime. I was thinking rom-com, but "A Walk to Remember" and "P.S. I Love You" are, it turns out, dramas. Hardcore dramas. Someone-special-dies dramas. Sigh. There were fun moments, I guess. And they're both based on books. Is that good?

I had a clean t-shirt and my Krav pants in the car, which made tolerable pajamas. I have a toothbrush in my backpack, I had leftover food in my backpack, Christine happened to have a charger compatible with my cellphone......and I slept like a rock until my phone and the alarm clock went off at seven.

And it's such a short drive to school that even leaving later than planned, I still made it to the parking lot before Conan got out of his truck. Nice.

No more barn

On Saturday I sold the ewes. I'm going to school full-time this winter, and I won't be able to supervise lambing the way I usually do. Originally, I hoped to time lambing for spring, but the fences weren't up in time to separate the ram, and he had his way, as usual. So they had to go.

Two of the ewe lambs have been gone about a month. Nora and Zora went to a happy home near Lincoln with an enthusiastic lady interested in handspinning and knitting their wool. She sent me some photos; they're much tamer now, and she's been brushing the burrs out of their wool. I'm entirely satisfied about them.

I had more trouble selling the others, though. Three different buyers vanished on me, responding to a couple of emails--even coming to see the sheep, in one case--before vanishing into thin air. I adjusted my prices. Then I readjusted them. No good.

Finally, last Thursday, someone emailed me asking if I was selling "sheeps," and for how much. I phoned the number in the email on Friday. The guy was Muslim, and any animals I sold him would clearly be slaughtered, but I expected that for Felix, and Letta had hurt herself trying to jump a fence. Slaughter might be the best I could hope for, if she sold at all. We set up a time on Saturday for Dana and his dad to come see my sheep.

The crowd that arrived on Saturday was not "Dana and his dad." Dana was there, yes, and so was another college-age guy, two middle-aged men, and a teenager named Muhammed. Felix and Letta were not going to satisfy this crowd. We all went out to the barn, with Doug following along to satisfy Dad's paranoia.

The bargaining process was long and complicated. One of the old men wanted Felix, while Dana and his dad were interested in Hina and Lizzie. Prices bounced back and forth, giving me my first taste of serious bargaining. To complicate matters, Bashir explained to me that the sheep were for a "donation," a charitable feast for which the animals were required to be staggered a year apart in age. Felix was six months old; Hina and Letta were two-year-olds; and Lizzie was somewhere near seven. Dana translated questions and offers, arguing in long volleys of foreign syllables, Arabic or Farsee or who knows what. I am not a scholar of Arabic.

Arrangements morphed swiftly. First they were taking two sheep; then they were taking three, but leaving one until Monday. Then they were going to put Hina and Felix in the SUV, and Lizzie in the trunk of the sedan. However, even hog-tied they wouldn't all fit, so they had to cut Felix's throat before they loaded him. Then they offered fifty for Letta, while they were at it. I fought them up to seventy, but her throat had to be cut, too.

Then one of the old men noticed the chickens. Would we sell chickens? Mom was willing to sell chickens. I started catching chickens. Another? I made Dana and Muhammed help me catch chickens. "We're buying all Anna's animals!" Dana joked.

They did, too. Almost. Oak is still here, wandering forlornly through the pasture. I watched him closely while we tied his ewes, wondering if he would fight, and he wondered, too, but he never did. His harim was kidnapped and slaughtered, and now he's alone, waiting to be sold.

Turkeys and Krav

The turkey chicks came this morning! Dad ordered them from Cackle Hatchery, and they're all heritage breeds, which means they're old-fashioned types in danger of dying out. Cackle Hatchery has photos of them--and ordering info--here. Eight of ours are the Red Bourbon breed, four are Black Spanish, and five are Blue Slate, though one or two of those might be Royal Palm. It's a little difficult to tell now.

We've put them in the pole-barn. Dad set up a dog run in there weeks ago, with tin sheets around the bottom to keep drafts out and chicks in. They don't work very well in either capacity, so the chicks are enclosed in the standard ring of flattened cardboard until they get too big the get through the chain-link. Yesterday Owen put a tarp over the top to keep the cats out, and removed the front of the run from where it's been serving as a gate in the larger stock-fence. So they're well established now, and I'm to check on them every hour or so today.



Last night was testing night at Krav. Mom took me, since Dad had a headache, and we got there in plenty of time. I think the taekwondo testing had been earlier in the day; the punching bags had all been moved to the edges of the mat so they no longer divided the room. Nearly everyone there was testing--I think one man, Pat, was there as an ordinary student, and everyone else was testing. Russ and Stacy were there, and Hannah, Laura, Jen, and a woman named Beth were all testing. I think I may have seen Beth last testing; she has red-gold hair in a ponytail and bangs, and is fairly high-level. There were two other people testing at my level: Stan, who partnered me; and a vaguely Asian guy built like a foothill whose name I haven't gotten yet. Mike had him do the chokes when we got to that part of the test.

I have no idea whether I passed or not. We'll find out next week whether I get my yellow sash or not. There was a depressing amount of stuff that was new, or that I hadn't done in far too long. Also Mike was testing us, after we finished with the focus mitts, and he's a bit intimidating, I guess. Very brisk. He teaches the Monday and Thursday classes, and he always starts us out with calisthenics, of which pushups are the mildest. Well, no--the jumping jacks are. I can do jumping jacks in my sleep, though I hope I never do.


Current plan of action says I'm going to Chicago with Mom and Grandma Jane. Tuesday night after Krav Dad lectured me the entire way home on how dangerous Chicago is, how evil people are, why he didn't want me to go, et cetera. Thanks, Dad. I put up with it, though, because I was only getting it because he was letting me go. Anyway, the plan is to leave around my birthday, and I think we'll stay a couple of days before Mom and I take the train home. We're drawing up a shopping list. *g*

There is one threat to my going, though: Lark's in heat. I need to be here to supervise the situation. If she doesn't go back to normal by the time we leave, I won't be able to go, because I'm abandoning her. It's to be the first time I've traveled without her since I got her, too. She's trained to think that "packing" means "road trip," not "abandonment." Well, puppy, I'm used to both meanings; you can learn 'em too.

Rhodesian Ridgeback, a brace of terriers, and a Lab

   This morning's walk was pretty crowded, with all three of the boys along. What remains of the snow is icy in spots, which made for interesting terrain. It was sunny, though, and after awhile I had to take off my jacket. We ran into three dogs at the head of the trail, near the road; the Rhodesian Ridgeback was nice, but the terriers--leashed--were a bit hostile. We made the full circuit, in under an hour, and met a nice black Lab on the way back, with a teenager and a middle-aged woman who was probably his mom.

  At home it was time to work on food. We were committed to contributing rolls and some veggies to Syd and Ralph's Thanksgiving dinner; Mom made rolls while I cut green beans and Philip baked squash. At noon we went over with the food, that being the opening of the house. It was really nice to see the Seamans again. Isaac and Sydney appeared eventually, and the goofing off began right there. My feet are sore. X_X The food was good, though. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing (not as good as Mom's), salad, and various pies. Various nice relatives. Mom and Philip had a nice chat with a well-turned-out blonde with nice cheekbones. Helen from southern Colorado may have been Isaac's grandma. I'm none too clear on various relationships. Oh and Dylan was there. The hair is no longer purple, but the front is blonde. He enjoyed New Moon. I'd actually been wondering if he was into Twilight, and there you go. Oh, well. Apparently Bella's with the werewolf in this one. I'd no idea there was anything approaching a love triangle. Interesting.

   The rest of the day was spent with a food-and-exercise hangover. Read some Campion. We watched Men in Black after the football game, which I tried to sleep through. Oh, and there was an ep of Hogan's Heroes on TV before Phil started trying to watch the game. In the end he gave up, and they listened to it on the radio while playing Monopoly. By that time I had a headache, though, and nobody tried to get me to play.

Busy day! We started out herding, of course, with the crew (in theory) me and Owen. In the end we were both given jobs, which we were supposed to do while herding. Save us all from trying to do regular chores with Dad around! So I was stuck trying to pick up trash and supervise the herd simultaneously, and Owen wasn't even supposed to pretend that he was herding, so far as I could tell. Sigh. So we went in from herding, took a break, and then I mashed tomatoes for Mom, who is trying to stay ahead of the garden without much success. She hasn't drowned yet in tomato sauce, at any rate. Following such indoor kitchen-based activities (there was cabbage beet relish, too) we all had some comp time, except Doug, who had gone with Dad to get a clothes dryer from Terry-at-work. While I was at Della, and therefore in an ideal position for phone answering, there was a call from a man in Adams who had a washer he wanted Dad to fix. He was willing to deliver it, and would deliver it in fifteen minutes. Did we have anyone here to help unload? I cast a panicky look at Peter and said we did. When he came, in an aged pickup with "Mayflower Honey" on the doors, he was accompanied by a grandson perhaps my age. They made short work of the dryer, I took Mr. Brewster's name and number, and they left. All very efficient.

Next the boys and I had to go pick up the pasture. Gah. They mostly sat around in a tree while I was out there, but after I went inside they seem to have accomplished something on their own accounts, which is good. They got on the computer while I waited around for Mom, and then she and I practiced my driving. I spent some time driving around the neighborhood, then she had me practice steering in the parking lot by the ballpark. It was a bit of a relief to actually get out and practice; I keep worrying that I'm just going to waste my permit and never actually learn. But maybe not.

By this time it was late afternoon, and I felt I could get away with going upstairs and reading. Mom has a new author for me, a rather good sci-fi writer named Connie Willis. The book was a novella, titled Uncharted Territories, and Mom wanted me to pay attention to Willis' backstory technique, which is very smooth. The story is fun, and I'm considering pursuing the author--except I still haven't gotten through Loretta Chase, even the books Mom wants me to read. Ack. And of course there's Diana Wynne Jones, but I've given up on getting through her in anything approaching an organized manner and am going to grab her books where and when I can. This decision was heavily influenced by the fact that Gere is the only branch with anything approaching a decent collection, and it's still pretty sad. Also I have to compete with the kids for 'em. Sigh. I may not finish reading her before I'm hunting her down for my kids.

Dad and Doug got home, after four, only to unload appliances and take off again after more. Then, when they got home for good, they had to start fixing things. The focus was on Mr. Brewster's washer, which was speedily healed; I'm still not sure if it was fixed by the time he phoned, or if Dad finished up while talking. Anyway, Dad was on the phone for quite a while, in that time discovering: Mr. Brewster is descended from the Governor Brewster of Plymouth Colony; he was very impressed with our professionalism (coughcoughchokeouch); his grandson had us pegged for homeschoolers right off; and he'll trade us a beehive for the washer repair. Ack!

Dad and Doug have replaced Mom's no-longer-functioning dryer, and they tried to put in a new washing machine but the new one didn't work. It was determined more economical to put the old one back. But we have a new dryer.

Owen is down with the flu. The germ has been making the rounds, starting with Mom, then going to Doug. Doug's symptoms have been reduced to a persistent cough, and Mom's entirely better, but Owen's in pretty bad shape. At least nobody's throwing up.

Dachshund

Made it to church in good time, parking as the Debe's were getting out of their car. The sermon was on the nature of Christianity, with emphasis on the three aspects: faith, love and hope. The text was from Colossians 1. I thought it was very good. There were two psalms sung, fewer than usual but both with familiar tunes. The service ended with Communion. I talked to Debe girls for a bit, and then I had to say goodbye to as many friends as I could find. I didn't find as many as I could have wished, Jenna, for instance, having left; but I ran into Tava, for one, and Mr. Marble. Ben's in Wyoming, though.

Came home, had lunch, did some blogging, did some packing.

It was nice out when we larked after dinner. We ran into three women and a dachshund at the bottom of the hill on the road; Lark was wary but well-behaved until the little guy put his forepaws up against my leg. I did not, I regret to say, grab her by the scruff of her neck and shake her, which is what I need to do. It might not improve her attitude, but it would certainly convey my opinion of her behavior. Fortunately we met no one after that, although it was a pretty near thing at the pond. We turned off onto the dike before we ran into the familiar pit bull and her master.

Bad Net this evening. Philip's having trouble too.

Border collie/pointer, Golden, dachshund, Aussie

We did the Incline first thing. It did not get off to a good start; we parked at an extreme distance, up in the residential area. It was a long walk. On the way we met another woman/dog pair headed that way. The dog was a Border collie/ pointer cross, his body leaning toward pointer and his coat an interesting patchwork of black and white, as if it couldn't decided whether to be solid or speckled, and had compromised. They were the first of many climbers--it was sunny and warm, and a lot of people were doing the climb. We leapfrogged with a young woman from Louisiana who'd been in Colorado for two weeks and was beginning her high-altitude exercise regimen with an attempt at the Incline, having more or less recovered from giving birth a few weeks ago. She made it all the way up. Oh, and a man passed us on his way down with a Golden and this tiny dachshund with really short legs. The Golden was doing fine, and the dachshund was keeping up, in a game hopping scramble. I hope it was carried up, because I have no idea how that dog could have gotten up some of those steps. We made it up in an hour and thirty-one minutes, eleven minutes more than last time, which miffed Phil rather. We sat in the shade at the top for awhile, cooling off, and then headed down the trail. That was when my feet began to hurt, that trail being by no stretch of the imagination flat, level, or even smooth. In most areas your feet are on slopes which run down to the gully in the center of the path. One foot began to drop broad hints about pulled muscles. We kept going. The End Was In Sight--no, not by a long shot; but we were aware of its presence. We passed a number of people, going both up and down. Going up was the older couple with the Aussie. She was big, with easily twenty pounds or more on Lark (although more pounds than she should have, for her inches), and she was a beautiful black tri, with a wide white collar over the back of her neck. She was lovely. She was also shortly to overheat, as her coat was considerably thicker than Lark's--almost winter weight. I hope they didn't go far. We had quite a ways to go yet: down the trail to the parking lot, down from there to the road, along the road to the uphill branch that led to the car. We stopped on the way at the Iron Spring, where, every few seconds, water spurts out of a hose from a structure like a glorified wellhead. Of greater interest to me was the creek; Lark and I scrambled carefully down to the water, and Lark, after cautious consideration, walked into the water. It was, for the most part, only a couple of inches deep, but the current was very fast. She cooled her paws all the same, which was what I'd had in mind. We climbed back up to the pavement and rested. Philip got a Nalgene out of the pack--I think all the good water was gone, excluding the dog water--and got some of the water from the spring.  It was really strong and tasted fairly awful. It wouldn't have been so bad, though, if the minerals hadn't stuck to my tongue. Glech. After that we continued, more or less refreshed, up to the car, and thence to Boonzaijer's. Rosie from church was manning the counter and took our order: and eclair each for me and Grandma, and the last fruit croissandwich for Philip. It was rather like the fruit cups, with the same fruit and cream, but the pastry base was an enormous croissant, the top dusted with powdered sugar. It looked delicious. Philip confirmed this estimate. We ate at the bakery and then went to King Sooper's for a few things--Grandma had called us at Boonzaijer's to say she was out of Vaseline, and I already had a small shopping list. We didn't take long, and then rejoined Lark in the car with a SoBe for me and a Gatorade for Phil. Then we went home. And crashed. I'm pretty sure Phil went to sleep, but I had computing to do and didn't really want to take a nap.

At about five o'clock Philip and I went out to dinner. We started at Trinity Brewery, a lively little place with a Colorado atmosphere and an emphasis on the drinks. The waiting was pretty informal, with a get-your-own-plate principle, but they were impressively green, with (main point) a bin for food scraps, labeled "scraps for the piggies." We asked about it, and the waitress told us that the scraps go to a farm, but tend to end up with the chickens, as pigs don't discriminate and are like to eat a toothpick. We sat at a table with high bar stools, and Philip had a beer ("Drinkable") and I had a root beer. It was mild and not very fizzy, with some resemblance to a cream soda, but I liked it. We had sliders to eat, which are basically mini hamburgers. Those were very good. Philip, who seemed to look on the evening as an exercise in criticism, made me rate the place. Three or four stars.

Shuga's was next, a nice little cafe on Cascade. We ate outside, ordering a cup each of the spicy shrimp soup, and Philip had a cocktail--I don't recall the name, unfortunately. The soup was good, not too spicy, but by the time I'd gotten half way through mine the inside of my mouth had had enough. We talked more than we ate there, but it was a nice place, with a comfortable atmosphere. Three or four stars.

After Shuga's we went to Amanda's Fonda, a Mexican-style family restaurant with a lot of business. We waited perhaps an hour for a table, until Philip went and collared a waitress--we were served immediately. The outside eating area was on a large porch on the far side from the road; it was well-guarded from mosquitoes by torches, a very real necessity, as a creek ran just below. The sound was a pleasant undercurrent to the conversation and music. We ordered the seafood enchiladas, and shared; they weren't bad, but I can think of better uses for seafood. We left once Philip finished his grande margarita, which he'd bought at the bar at the beginning of our wait. I had a few sips, at intervals, and liked it; the initial flavor, of citrus, gradually giving way in your mouth to a mildly alcoholic taste, was a pleasant effect. Three stars.

The plan for the fourth stop was an Irish pub-style restaurant downtown. We found the place, only to discover that, at ten o'clock on a Saturday night, they were carding everyone at the door. We kept walking, and ended up at Josh & Jon's ice cream parlor. There was a chalk board next to the line, where lots of people had left messages--there was one, "Call Cameron for a good time--719-337-0075"--it was pretty fun to look at. We ordered a butter pecan sundae, with hot fudge, whipped cream, and two cherries, to share. It was really good. Sarah Debenedittis says we should have gotten Yellow Cake, though--she says the ice cream tastes exactly like cake. The butter pecan was good, all the same. Afterwards we walked around a bit more, as my legs grew increasingly mutinous, and it was a relief to sit down when we reached the car and went home.

Castle, episode 6. Mystery: jewel theft. Personal: Cinderella comes to the ball. Funfunfun.

Golden Retriever, sheltie

Had to get up and get moving, because Philip had assigned housework before the bridge ladies came. I'd vacuumed upstairs and was starting on the bathroom when Stephanie appeared unexpectedly. By the time I was waiting for Syd to come for the lark, Lee was here too--albeit expected. 

It was a pretty good walk. We ran first of all into Jackson and his lady, followed shortly by the woman I'd met just before the second snake; she was accompanied by a man who might have been her husband. The next meeting was under the trees; a(n older) teenager with his sheltie stopped to engage in wary conversation with Lark. After that it was just us. When we got home I came over to Syd's to get some library books; I'd given them to her to take back, but as Philip was retreating into town while the bridge group was here, I took advantage of the opportunity to go to the library. Syd and I decided I might as well take the books back while I was at it. While I was there Syd had a video for me to watch, and then I showed her and Ralph the wedding video. They were pretty appreciative. Then Phil called and said we were leaving in ten minutes. I came home to find him sitting outside.

The library was pretty busy. Beguilement is still not available at East branch, so I found another Loretta Chase and sat down. It wasn't bad, but my favorite is still Mr. Impossible. I think I need to read more Carsington books, though--so far I've only seen two of the brothers catch it, and I know there are at least two more with their own books. Anyway, we ended up checking out and going home for lunch. (Philip had an Ian Banks.)

Larked after dinner. It was pretty cool out, and we weren't the only ones out. The Serious Discussion couple ran into us at the curve by the pond. Lark seemed unusually uncertain about greeting them, though. She was less uncertain about charging off into the scrub on the far side of the creek; there was one very impressive bound straight into the air at one point, as she tried to get a better look at her quarry. Unlike the doe earlier, this quarry turned around. The next I knew of it, Lark was charging out of the scrub, pursued by a coyote. It saw me and did an impressive about-face; Lark promptly did the same and started to chase it. I used the Voice. She came back, without having gotten very far. Possibly she is beginning to take coyotes seriously, although I somehow doubt it. Sigh. After that we didn't meet anyone until passing the couple on their way back, near the gate.

Watched Silence of the Lambs. I guess it was pretty good, but I don't deal with creeps very well.

Episode 6 of Castle: "Always Buy Retail." Mystery: occult. Personal: ex-wife trouble.

Brace of German Shepherds

Quiet morning. Philip went off to get the car serviced and stuff, and then I think he has to take Grandma for her INR. I put off Lark's walk because I thought we were doing the Incline, but I'm not sure when it's going to happen. It's a nice cool day, though, so if it turns out we're not doing the Incline I can just take her out. We might want to beware the kid on the motorbike who's been buzzing around outside for the past two hours or so, though.

Well, it had warmed up quite a bit by the time I found out Philip had done the Incline without me. In the meantime Lark was bouncing off the walls. At three-thirty the sun went behind a cloud, and I seized the moment and took her out. It was nice and cool, too, with a few drops of a rain and a little thunder. That had quit by the time we were almost to the pond, where I met a man with two extremely handsome German Shepherds in hand. Lark came running to me when she saw them (from a safe distance) and growled a very little and one as she tried to convince me to pick her up. I didn't, but the attempt put her head a couple of inches higher than theirs, so she was satisfied to leave it at that until we went on. After that the sun came out, and by the time we got home it was hot again.

Philip and I were talking on the couch, and the conversation, through circuitous routes, ended on Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Philip decided that I should watch an episode, and he picked "Our Mrs. Reynolds," episode eight, I believe. I think I like Richard Castle better, if we're talking Nathan Fillion, but it's pretty fun. Especially when you have the XKCD skateboard comics to remember while watching.

After dinner I fell asleep and didn't wake 'till ten. -_-; We cleaned up the kitchen and watched Castle 5, the resurrected case, "A Chill Runs Through Her Veins." They were lucky--the case was only five years old. I think Poirot's was forty.

After that I read the Mary Higgins Clark which has been lying around. Two Little Girls In Blue is suspense, and not much else. The writing is serviceable, with occasional sentences that make you stop and reconstruct them. The suspense is effective, and would make a good distraction if you were waiting somewhere and had nothing else to read; otherwise it's pretty pointless. Also there were too many characters, given a momentary voice and then abandoned, except for a page of two later on. Very few characters were permitted much development. It's pretty much a plot-driven book, with little support from the other elements.

It was ten when we larked, and pretty hot. We met no one on the first leg, but early in the second leg there was a teenager and his.....man, I don't know. Grandma? I didn't get a very good look. They remained within earshot behind us for most of the second leg. The boy sounded like he was talking a mile a minute, but I'm not sure what about. Maybe the weather--Lark and I were broiled by the time we got back.

After lunch Philip had me work on the SAT. I finished that practice test, and he totaled my score, although I don't think he scored the essay, which I finished. Oh, right--gotta post that for Mom. I think, besides that, my score was 1150, though. Not counting the essay. I took half-an-hour to write it, without referring to my last attempt (and going in a somewhat different direction). My arm was cramping before I finished.

About four we left to go to the church barbecue at Bear Creek. We took nearly an hour getting there, having an inadequate idea which of the various roads claiming to be a part of Bear Creek Park actually led to the park facilities. We found it eventually, however, and I played volleyball with some of the other kids/young adults (in the more literal sense) until it was time to eat. Rachel and Liz Debenedittis and several people I didn't know were on my side, with Sarah and Abby, Elise Mann, Matt, and some more people I don't know on the other team. Ben stood at the net and hit from either side--'libero' playing taken to a new extreme. I was getting fairly decent by the time we quit. We ate at six, I think, sitting with Abby, Ben, Matt, and Rachel opposite, and I think Josh Mann on Philip's far side. After dinner I watched everybody play Frisbee until it was time to go at seven. There should have been plenty of time to walk the dog before dark, but it started raining, and then thundering, so we went along the road almost to the trail and then turned back. I'm beginning to hate thunder, especially when I'm outside.

Philip and I then proceeded to spend at least an hour wrestling with the math problems on the SAT practice test that I missed. It was pretty interesting. There was one that he missed, and a few that he said I didn't need to learn just then, sometimes because I was just getting there in algebra and sometimes because he just didn't want to mess with it.

After that we did what he calls calisthenics, the same program as last night. I did better,  but crunches are.....geh. Abs + crunches = jelly, for lack of a better description.

Then we got floats and watched episode 4 of Castle, which was the politicians one. "Hell Hath No Fury" is the episode name--possibly because the murder was arranged/accompliced by the guy's wife, with assistance from his campaign manager, who did the deed for her.

Then I read some Waverley, started Wickford Point, and went to bed.

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.

*ded* Managed, amazingly, to get out at more or less the usual time--possibly because Cheerios don't require as much chewing as frosted shredded wheat. Stephanie, Carole's successor, arrived as Lark and I were heading out, and then Syd called to talk to me about Isaac. I'm afraid she was pretty unhappy about the way he was acting on our walk the other day. -_-; She wanted to tell me if I ever want her to intervene, I'm to tell her, but otherwise she'll let me deal with it. Which is a relief, because I can deal with him, but not her dealing with him. Anyway, after we finished talking I had to go be introduced to Stephanie, and then we larked. It wasn't too hot. I was sweating pretty profusely when we got home, though--I think it was just humid. Hm. Stephanie was still here but Philip hadn't come yet; I wandered off to computer-land.

Philip called to say he'd get here eventually, and tomorrow morning we're doing to do the Incline and then leaving for Nebraska. Sheesh. And then I started packing.

Father Paul came by this afternoon, and said goodbye to me before he left. I have to say, that was not someone I expected to get a hug from, but oh well. I let him get away with it, anyway.

Went over to the Seamans' before dinner to tell 'em I was leaving. Now those are people I like to get hugs from. Er. Ahem. Syd promptly went over to talk to Grandma (taking a glass of wine along to drink) and I followed her, after talking to Ralph for a bit. When I came back Syd said she'd been thinking about it, and she'd like to come along when we do the Incline and see how she felt doing that. So I'm to call her in the morning and see if she wants to come. Although unfortunately she doesn't want to do it with us. What's with all these people who don't stick together on a hike?

Larked after dinner. It was pretty nice out, albeit a bit buggy, and we only ran into one person. He was standing at the edge of the pond, and he told me he'd seen a turtle there earlier and was hoping to glimpse it again. Sounds like a good cause to me....

Whew. Just managed to get up on time, then lost time calling Lark, when of course she was playing with Isaac. Also there was no paper. And my dress needed a lot of ironing. In the end, I was dressed but not combed or shod when Liz rang the doorbell--fortunately a bit early. She talked to Grandma while I finished getting ready, and then Syd and Syd brought Lark home, as she'd been playing over there. The kids were going home, so Lark had to come home too.

We got to church in time--just before the announcements began, in fact. Pretty close. Pastor Reese gave a sermon on Mortification, as the last in the series on Sanctification. It was unprepared but still good, largely based on Romans 8 and John Owen. Liz liked that Owen was named for him. :p We stayed quite a while after the service, partly so everyone could chat but mostly, I think, because Mr. Debenedittis is an elder or something and had to help close up. There was one window stuck, because the rope had been derailed and then jammed in the pulley, and everyone stood around watching Ben try to get it loose with a screwdriver while the elders/deacons offered assistance and their families offered suggestions. It was pretty funny--and I think everyone restrained themselves, more or less. I mean, we kibitzed and heckled, but nicely.

After church Liz took me to the Debes' for lunch. Shawn and Matt Stickel were there too, but a bit more familiar with the ground, as Matt is dating, or engaged to, or something, Rachel Debenedittis, and Shawn is his dad. Actually, I think they're just dating but everyone expects them to marry, including the two of them, and it's pretty freely discussed. It's all pretty nice, although at this rate when Abby, and possibly Sarah, are dating, their elder sisters will not be nice. Er, they'll be mean, but probably nicely. Oh, and besides more or less getting the order of birth down, I found out that Abby is younger than me, which was a shock. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that all her sisters are older than me, and she's a lot like them, so I assumed she was older too? They all explained it to me as the youngest trying to keep up, which does make sense, and is at the same time somewhat related to my version above presented. Anyway, we all had lunch (after they fixed it, in which process guests are not permitted) and then everybody sat and talked for awhile. And then I got scolded for trying to help clear the table, and they drafted Mr. Debenedittis, who had hitherto been sitting and talking. For which I was razzed. Sorry-! But, again, nicely. Gah. This entire family is nice, I don't know if I can handle it. Anyway, Liz took me home about three-fifteen, to my immense regret, but I knew I had to leave sometime.......That actually sounds a lot like the larger situation here, too. Hm.

And then I spent some time on the computer and it occurred to me that I could probably try for a job at, say, sheep! magazine after I graduate, thus combining the interests. Hm.

Then I spent a couple of hours reading One Foot In the Grave, a mystery by Peter Dickinson set in a nursing home. I did this outside, while Lark wandered about as she pleased and I whistled periodically to indicate that, should she be within earshot and so inclined, her return would be perfectly acceptable. Then I went inside, read some more, had something to eat, and went out to look for her. It was rather an adventure, in spite of worrying, because I've never had a real excuse to be out in the dark before. There were too many deer to count, but few enough to categorize: the doe, when it was still light enough to identify her as the sick one (unless there are rather a lot of does in bad shape about), now recovering; the buck, above me on the hill, who observed (and listened to) me calmly until I came too close, at which point he began to move away. I've noticed that even if you can't see the antlers, you can still identify a buck by the way he holds his head, balancing. It was becoming very dark when I surprised rather a herd, making them flee, one by one and then all of them, out of a thick stand of brush, dark blurs bounding through the darkness. I came to the house that overlooks the Heller road, from the balcony of which a large dog barks at us. I came down its driveway to Eagle Rock, still calling every minute or so. I had not been on the road long when Lark came bustling up, wriggling about, for once my pleasure in seeing her equal to hers in seeing me.  Grandma told me she'd dropped by the house, without coming in, then gone to find me. I'd been considering ringing doorbells--it was, after all, only nine o'clock. There was enough light to see wherever I put my feet, but little beyond.

She wanders up to me now, diffidently, wondering if she's exhausted her credit for petting; I hold a hand out, and she comes to stand next to me as I rub her side. I'm getting a headache.

Larked late, but it was pretty cool out, so we survived. It was a quiet walk, much more peaceful than last night's dream, in which, besides various other hikers, we met several deer and some moose. Which Lark tried to chase--with what degree of success I have forgotten. I think my subconscious is having trouble remembering where it is, though-- CO home or NE home, as the numbers are labeled in my cell.

Spent most of the day reading, pretty much until dinner, although some laundry got done. I think. During dinner Isaac called to invite me over, and after dinner I did so. Played with him and Sydney for a bit, then sat through dinner with them. I had some grapes to occupy myself, or I probably would have had a second dinner. -_-; 

After dinner, and some discussion of who would go on Lark's walk, I came home to put my boots on and found a message from Liz Debenedittis to call her. So I did, and gave her directions (which sounded coherent to me--I hope so), and then Syd (senior), Isaac, and I went on a hike with Lark. Isaac was pretty obnoxious, I think because he was still mad about Sydney monopolizing me. I have yet to find a balance between them. Sigh. I need to learn how to do this. I think his other problem, somewhat, is that he wants to have fun with me the way he did the first time we played. Experiences, however, are impossible to replicate, and he's having a hard time trying. And since, as I think he sees it, that first time was me chasing him for being obnoxious, the best way to have it happen again is to be obnoxious. It's not working. Sigh. It is making his friend and his grandma mad at him, which makes him sulky and more obnoxious. Sigh. In the end it was very nearly full dark when we got home. We saw a doe and a buck when we were almost to the gate, and had a lovely view of the buck as he leapt the fence. Very nice.

I'm beginning to get into going-home mode. Sigh--I'll miss everyone here.

Bloodhound puppy, golden, Boston bull terrier

Dreamed Lark successfully put up the ewe lambs and two unfamiliar goats. Despite the animals all looking more or less right, it was a pretty unrealistic dream. Everyone went where I wanted them to. Also the ewe lambs looked about the same as when I left, which shouldn't be right.

Lee came early and took Grandma outside, which is becoming the norm. I don't think Philip got up until she left, and I know he never ate breakfast. Lunatic.

Lark did not get a walk this morning. At least, not a normal walk. First she had a ride in the car, where, despite the availability of food all morning, she did not get sick. At all. Then she had a walk--a long one, up a hill along the road from where we parked. Then we had to climb the horribly steep trail up to the stairs. At that point, I sat down--Philip had pretty much left us behind on the trail, and waited for us at the steps. There were, again, a lot of people climbing, although it was rather hotter than Saturday at first, with the sun coming and going. I think we were past the false summit before it began to rain. There was a guy climbing with a couple of kids--Oliver, a dog-lover with lots of energy, and Grace, with less attention to spare as she worked her way up. She really did well, considering how overweight she is--I'd say there's hope for her yet. Quite a lot, really, if she can finish the Incline on her first try. The young woman with the bloodhound puppy was doing it again--what with Lark, Zeus, and a young Golden, it looked rather like a puppy play date on the slope above us. Lark was having lots of fun, as I'd finally let her off the leash. I'd been wondering if Phil would approve, but when he suggested it I quit worrying about it. The view, as omitted in the last post on this subject, was great; I could even see our hill, and figure out approximately where the house was. At one point there was an enormous curtain of cloud obscuring it, though; I wonder if it corresponded with the rain at noon, which Grandma told us about. By the time we made the false summit Phil was pushing me pretty persistently, and then he came up with a system: go thirty steps, rest ten seconds. Okay. We'd done maybe half a dozen of these when there were about four more steps, at which point we dropped the system. There's a lovely flat space with lots of rocks and things to sit on at the top; we sat for awhile, admiring the view, having a drink (Philip had refused all water until the top), giving the dog a drink, and cheering Grace on. Oliver did twenty pushups, but they weren't very deep. It made me think of Grandma's story of taking Doug on the Cog Railway: once at the top, she warned him of altitude sickness, and he promptly went to the edge of the pavement and started doing pushups. Gah. We all took the trail down, in installments as one group or another left separately, and it was quite a while down the trail before my legs were anywhere near as tired as the first time. My left, while sore, was never rubbery--a relief. It began to rain more heavily on the trail, and after a bit of that Lark started giving me pathetic looks--"I don't like this, make it stop, c'mon Mom, there's stuff hitting my head!" She was alright otherwise, but we were both pretty wet by the time (after an interminable trek past various now-empty parking) we made it to the car. I toweled her off a bit with the sweater Grandma had suggested I bring, and which had hitherto served no useful purpose. But Lark lay down on it, and tried to go to sleep. (Unsuccessfully, as she slid about on the vinyl seat, but the effort was there and I appreciated it.) She came wide awake as we got to Boonzaijer's, though, and it dawned on her that Philip and I were getting out of the car and--worse--she wasn't. We went in and got fruit tarts, which are delicious confections of cream in a pastry shell with strawberry, kiwi, orange, and grape slices on top. I looked out at the parking lot as we ate, and there was that little pointed face at the window, waiting for us to come back. We did so shortly, with a slice of Belgian double chocolate mousse cake for Grandma; Lark was delighted to see me. She calmed down before we got home, though. The light was red for our turn onto Nevada, and as we sat there, watching the arrow, hail began to ping onto the windshield, closely followed by huge drops of rain. We--eventually--pulled into the driveway in a downpour. Philip ducked out of the car and dashed for the door. I tried to open my door so Lark could follow while I collected my stuff. It wouldn't open--the rear passenger doors on the Vic open only from the outside. Philip came dashing back to open it, and I let Lark out to follow him, then reached for my hat and backpack. When I got out of the car, Lark was waiting, in the pouring rain (which she detests), for me to come too. I was touched.

Followed lunch, dry clothes, and conversations. My muscles, while a bit tired, are not yet seriously complaining. 

Nap......

Philip went back to Golden after dinner--something to do with work. 

Started Wuthering Heights after the comp shut down. Got two chapters in and switched to Moliere. Grandma has a Heritage volume with Tartuffe and The Would-be Gentleman--much more fun than Bronte, and with great illustrations. And I am glad to say I can now disagree with Napoleon's summary of Tartuffe--"A third-rate comedy"--with a more informed opinion.

15 pushups, 20 situps, 5 elbow-to-knees (Lark always gets worried at this point), and three arabesque stretches.

Golden Retriever, pughuahua?

Finished Three Came Home last night. Oops. Hadn't meant to do that. Oh well.....

Spent some time petting the cat, whose people should be returning today. Maybe I should call Brook and ask when.... 

Larked in good time, with the air still nice and cool. Met an elderly lady and her elderly Golden at the gate--Lark growled at him for coming too close to me.....this really is not good. Oh, and we saw a weasel; which is to say, Lark saw it and jumped, and then a couple seconds later I saw it about fifteen feet up a tree. Heh. It was a sort of reddish brown, with a pale grey underside. Yay new wildlife! Anyway, he looked pretty much like the top picture on this page. Although I have to say I don't think I've ever heard that version of "Pop! goes the weasel" before.....

Ah, and there was some sort of big truck, of the utilities variety, at the Heller Center. We were almost to the trail when he drove out, and I grabbed Lark's collar and got us there while the driver waited. Mm. Met another older lady out on the trail, then didn't see anyone until we got home. And we keep coming home when it's (objectively) still cool out, so no swamp cooler....

Quiet afternoon. Found an Ogden Nash collection and Kate Greenaway's Language of Flowers, printed in 1879 but all the young ladies in the illustrations are wearing Regency styles. Also it vindicates my side of the argument about flower languages: Mom says authors just make it all up as they go, with which I disagree. And here's this. Muahaha.

Philip got in as I was getting the mail while hoping the rice would dry out a bit. Last night's was some of the worst fried rice I have ever produced. Sigh. We ate it, though. With watermelon afterwards. I was about to take Lark out afterwards when Syd got home and came over, with a couple of granddaughters in tow--I assume they'd come with their mother to get Syd and Ralph from the airport. Lark, who was already excited about going for a walk, absolutely exploded. It was like when you blow up a balloon and then let it loose to zip around. Lol. Oh, and I got paid.....too much, but I'm not going to complain.

After that we larked. Philip had a movie scheduled close to eight, but we had plenty of time--I think it was about seven when we got home. In the meantime, it began to rain lightly shortly after we got out. We met a couple people--more than on a hot day--a woman with a dog, which looked very much like a cross between a pug and a chihuahua. Lark was a bit aggressive--he yelped, I grabbed her, they departed, I gave her a talking-to. For all the difference it's likely to make. Geh. Later there was a young guy out jogging, too--pretty cute, in a bland kind of way. It rained the entire time we were out.

We got home and Philip told me I ad to be ready to go in fifteen minutes. We were going to see Moon, which was only showing downtown and therefore required time to get there. Philip, please note, got into the shower only after I got home, and could reasonably be expected to use the bathroom. I ended up getting dressed in the studio, as soon as he was firmly in the shower.

Moon is suspense and sci-fi, with some mystery and a bit of psychological, I guess. Not my thing on so many levels, but I suppose it was a good movie. Pretty open-ended, but at the same time it doesn't feel like the answers to those questions would really fit. He goes back to Earth, and that's it? Well, no, but that's a story for another day--maybe. For our imaginations, maybe.

We got home about ten, and Philip promptly hooked the laptop up to the TV for another episode of Castle. I think the plot was a bit better in this one; in the last one, with our mystery writer tagging along with the cop the entire point of the plot was that it be something a mystery writer could predict, and therefore, it follows, a reader too. At least if you've read as many of the greats as I have, the writers who created these plots and cliches. Anyway, episode 2 was a bit less predictable, and our novelist shines slightly less in the revelation of plot points; this one took him by surprise, too. We are, however, discovering more about our lovely cop, although I object rather to having it laid out clearly for more obtuse viewers on Castle's laptop, as it is likewise revealed about the character in his new series, the ostensible reason for his tagging along behind Beckett on her cases. Besides the Mayor's being a fan, anyway--the man has fans everywhere, and uses them to a disgusting but expediting degree.

Incline tomorrow--so not prepared in any way, shape, or form.....

Big brown mix with black shading again

Up a bit late. The cat was glad to see me. Had to spray some ants--Syd left the can out, with the request to use it if necessary. There were more this afternoon, this time focussing on the food dish rather than the counter. Sprayed those too. Syd's coming home tomorrow--and everything's still alive....(To "everything's" Spellcheck says: "Are you sure about that?" Yes, thank you.)

An uneventful morning walk. It was sunny out, although not, technically, hot, and nobody else was out. Phooey. I'd been hoping for the lady and the Golden, at least. I like 'em. Lark disapproves of Jackson, though. "Get away from her!" she says when I pet him. Sigh. I'm not sure whether to call this an advance in our relationship or not, but either way I disapprove. Gonna have to figure out what to do about it--she can't just tell me not to pet other dogs; I mean, she talks to other people.....I'm sorry, dear, petting is not an exclusive part of a relationship any more than conversation. Live with it.

Ended up not getting on the comp 'til after three, with one thing and another. I regretted the delay once I got on--Doug had been on all morning, talking into thin air. Oops. He seems to be into Russian Novelists at the moment: having cut a swathe through Solzhenitsyn, he's now reading Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. None of these names are acknowledged as legit by Spellcheck--so helpful....

Clouded up by dinnertime, with rain threatening by the time we larked. We met the iPod-bearing jogger with the big brown mix again; he doesn't leash his dog, but always reaches for his collar when he sees us. Last time we ran into him, we were in his blind spot, coming down the creek bed as he came down the main path; he stopped and grabbed for his (obediently heeling) dog as soon as he was aware. I think I disapprove of earbuds while out: there's so much else to pay attention to, and in the end it's rather a liability. Perhaps a sturdy man in good shape, accompanied by a large dog, doesn't need to be quite so alert as a woman whose dog is as petite as she is, but it's always good to be aware of what's going on around you. We also met the Asian/Caucasian couple, who I begin to suspect go on walks for Serious Discussions. That's what it's always sounded like as I approach, although I'm glad to say not too serious. It may just be the natural tendency of his voice to sound like he's talking about something important, though. I don't know. I have every expectation that this will remain the case, nor would I want it otherwise. One family's problems are enough.

Reading Three Came Home. I wasn't at all sure I wanted to read a prison camp book just now, but Keith has a terrific style of her own, amusing and serious in turns, and very sympathetic. I can't find Mom's other recommendation, Christ Stopped at Eboli, but I did find Wuthering Heights. It's on the table for consideration, while I read Three Came Home. I am not at all sure I want to start reading the darker/crazier English classics--Grandma and I were talking about Thomas Hardy at dinner--but I've been thinking about it, and will no doubt continue to do so. A book about three men making sheep's eyes at an ice queen fails to attract me, large supporting cast of actual sheep notwithstanding.

15 pushups, form improving; 16 situps, having realized how pointless it is to continue after my abs have quit and left all the work to back and (somehow) shoulders; 5 standing elbow-to-knees; 3......a bit like an arabesque but I'm holding the outstretched leg at the ankle. All of which are no doubt very good for me, but they don't seem to do much for the Incline-afflicted muscles. Hm.

Well, I wasn't as sore this morning as I had expected. I did not, for one thing, want to scream until I actually stood up. And it was only really bad when I took stairs. Yeowch. Nonetheless, I bestirred myself, since Philip gave me fifteen minutes (from the middle of breakfast) to use the bathroom before he needed it. I was finished in plenty of time and heading over to the Seamans' before he was out of bed. Maddie was extremely glad to see me, the door to the master bedroom having blown shut again, this time with her outside. Her food, water, and litterbox are all in the master bathroom. You see the problem. She wolfed her gooshyfood, then galloped 'round to check if I'd opened the door yet. I had, and she ran for the litterbox.

That taken care of, I came home to find Philip getting into the shower. We got out the door at nine-thirty precisely, and made it to church with a couple of minutes to spare. The preacher was a guest, an enthusiastic man with a neat white beard, with "Christ is the King" as his topic. The text was from I Corinthians, with points from throughout the Scriptures. The sermon didn't really have much in the way of a planned outline that I could hear, and there certainly wasn't one on the back of the bulletin, but it wasn't a bad sermon. And one of the psalms was to a tune I knew, which happens about once every two weeks if I'm very lucky.

Afterwards Mrs. Kleinbeart had some questions about homeschooling, having done some with her children, and then I went and talked to Jenna while Philip chatted with a girl I don't know. They were plotting a fourteener once I leave. Sigh. Oh, and the camping trip is cancelled. Logistical difficulties, apparently. And Philip is planning to take me home the first week in August. Sigh. Well, I suppose I have a lot to catch up on.....including Lark's relationship with the stock. Will her increased obedience level go straight down the tubes with the first glimpse she catches of an airbrained ewe lamb? We'll see.

I decided it was time to go for a walk around two, precisely timed for the rain to start once we were fairly out. I decided to keep going, as it wasn't very heavy; it wasn't until the rain began more heavily, and Lark began giving me looks expressive of the opinion that this was stupid, why didn't I do something about this stuff hitting her on the head, that we turned back. In good time; for the thunder became serious as we headed for home, and once there was a crack of lightning directly above me that seriously scared me. We went for home at a smart pace, with a pause at the gate as I waited for some thunder to subside before I touched the metal. I have no idea if this precaution was actually worth anything or not; I was, however, quite certain that I did not wish to touch a tall metal gate, at all. It was a compromise. We reached the house with no mishaps, at least, and Lark submitted to toweling with slightly more docility than usual, which is to say she didn't gnaw on me very much. I hung my clothes up to dry and sat down with Maurois' Disraeli. It's extremely absorbing, and leads me to wonder if any of Maurois' other biographies are available in English.

Philip left for Golden while Grandma and I were having dessert, after suggesting some rather convoluted plans for the schedule next week. I think he said something about coming down Wednesday for both mental and physical torments, namely, the Incline and some SAT math. He would then go back to Golden on Friday, coming back....I'm not sure when. Before Wednesday again, I imagine.

Finished Disraeli before bed.

15 pushups, about 16 situps. Decided there was no point continuing after my abs quit--I'm not doing this just to bust my back and (somehow) shoulders.....

Husky, bloodhound puppy

Spent some time petting Maddie this morning. I think she's getting pretty bored and lonely over there.

It was nice and cool out, with a stiff breeze and intermittent clouds over the sun when we started out on our walk. By the time we made it to the trailhead, the sun was out for good and we were too low to catch the breeze. Sob. It was pretty hot. We met an older couple with a red husky; I'm not sure, but I'd say the husky was pretty old too. It had a white face anyway, so that was no help, but its pelt seemed a bit faded, and its movements cautious. I don't know. No adventures this morning, anyway, for which I am grateful. And Philip was there when we got home.

Philip napped straight through lunch, and then I embarked on the campaign to get him off the couch and into town for groceries. I was foiled--at least in the latter aim--by a phone call from Ben, who was doing the Incline and wondered if Philip wanted to come. Philip did, and asked if I wanted to come. I supposed so if Lark could come? I was fairly sure I was going to regret it, but by the time Ben said, no, no dogs in his car, I was kinda committed, mentally. So I went. Ben was driving, and besides Phil and me in the backseat there was Tom, his roommate, who wasn't going on the Incline but wanted to do some running on the trail. So off we went. The main point of the drive there, as far as I'm concerned, was when I spotted three bighorn sheep in a meadow at Glen Eyrie. We went by too fast for me to get an alert out, and I was still uncertain that they were indeed bighorns by the time we were past. So we went through Manitou, and eventually found Parking, and spent a minute or two wondering whether or not to wait for the impending storm to blow over or just go up. The ayes had it for "just go up." So we did. I was already having trouble long before we made it to the steps. Philip made me keep going. They decided I'd better set the pace, which meant, among other things, that we stopped pretty much whenever I decided to. This was nice. Anyway, Philip pushed me on, with Ben providing the voice of experience, and we climbed. And climbed. And climbed. Climbed quite a lot, really. Met some interesting people. We leapfrogged most of the way with a man in a red shirt who was trying for the second time that day. A woman with a beautiful bloodhound puppy running extremely elongated ovals around her passed us both coming and going. A girl--younger than me--with her dad were trying it for I think the fifth time, having made it so far only two-thirds of the way, a record they surpassed today. And there were some young men heading down at speed. Not very high speed, and sideways, but I was pretty irritated until the first one slipped. He didn't fall, but I felt a little better. Philip and I turned to head down when we were three-quarters of the way, leaving Ben to go the rest of the way and catch up to us later. Feh. We turned onto the trail, which connects with the stairs at about the two-thirds point, and took it down. Tom overtook us shortly, and Ben caught us with a good way left to go. My legs were pretty tired by then, with the left calf threatening to give way. I hoped I wouldn't need it for anything particularly serious, because if I needed to, for instance, break a fall, I was in trouble. Fortunately there were no crises for it to betray me in, and by the time we reached the bottom, it had more or less steadied. My feet were beginning to complain a bit, though. A light rain began up on the trail, and it was beginning to get serious when we made it to the car. The culverts were full by the time we got to Boonzaijer's for the Traditional Ben & Tom Post-Incline Dessert, a tradition Philip and I were happy to support. Having left home about noon, it was a bit after five when we got home. I was ready for a nap, but we still had the shopping to do. This was successfully navigated, as was the preparation of dinner. It remains to be seen if I can survive both the after-dinner movie and getting to bed; walking Lark is out of the question. I did manage to get over to feed the cat, though, and got the mail. Aren't you impressed?

Golden Retriever

Got out for the walk about nine-thirty, after spending some time with Maddie. Carole was here when I left--she and Grandma were headed for the doctor's office for another INR. It was pretty hot out, but there were some people out--ran into an older woman who walks alone about at the creek crossing. I stopped in front of the stand of scrub there to look back for Lark, who was just then coming past the woman, with a polite greeting in her walk. Then I heard a buzz behind me. I whirled so fast, I don't even remember doing it and was standing on the far side of the trail staring at the rattlesnake that had been curled in the shade behind me. Yikes! This time I remembered the "run and hope Lark follows" plan. It didn't work. I looked back to check and the dog was just sticking her nose into the brush where I'd been standing. "Lark!!" That worked. She came. Tell me that's not the exact reverse of what we thought would work--I came up with running because I was sure calling her would be useless. Guess not..... We ran into Jackson the Golden and his lady up in the trees, and since she was headed the way we'd been I warned her about the snake. She was shocked--she'd been going back and forth along the shady trail, and on her last pass Jackson has been sniffing around about where we'd found the snake. She'd thought he'd found a dead animal or something, and had called him away. Meep. Yay obedient dogs. Lark is still warning Jackson away from me, though.....ahem. I was talking to her when the lady from earlier caught up with us. She heard us say "snake", and stopped to ask about it. She'd heard me call Lark when she'd found the snake, and was a bit shaken to hear how close she'd been herself. Yeah. I did the rest of that hike on adrenaline, afraid to stop once we were on the winding, rocky half lest I learn more about the area I was in--such as what else was there. It's great terrain for snakes, you see. I felt better once we were back on the road, but Lark was beginning to drag pretty badly. I was still able to move briskly. Have I mentioned I'm doing a study on long pants when it's hot? Apparently they help. I have no idea why, but I have more energy left when wearing long pants than in shorts. Also I'm less certain that a snake would be able to inject me.....ahem. Long pants + summer = comfort. Somehow.

With any luck, she'll learn which animals to stay away from based on which ones I shriek at her for talking to......so far we have rattlesnakes and coyotes. It would probably cloud the issue a bit if she ever met the huge garter snake that lives in the rocks over the culvert, but I don't believe she's encountered him yet. It's a very retiring creature.

Spent the afternoon reading Three Men In a Boat, not yet feeling up to choosing something else off Grandma's shelf without a prior recommendation. Besides that, it's a lot of effort for a book one isn't sure one wants to read. Three Men In a Boat, however, is most definitely a book one wants to read. Humor takes its turn with Victorianly poetic descriptions of scenery and imaginative descriptions of local history--one of my (several) favorite parts is Jerome's plaint on the subject of living with lovers, segueing smoothly, if bitterly, into a contemplation of how it must have been for the people who had to live with Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn during their necking period, and how difficult is must have been to avoid them.  In general, it's rather difficult to remember that this is written in the nineteenth century, as to my ear it has a great deal in common with most of the really good English writing I've been exposed to. Now and then it rather smacks one, however, as when Jerome is wondering flippantly whether, in the year 2000, the willow china of the day will be set on the mantel as ornament. Well, as a matter of fact, I'm very much afraid so. I don't know about the Ramsgate souvenirs, though.

Messaged Mom for new reading material, then found a book on the shelf: The Literary Courtship, by Anna Fuller. How could I resist? It turned out to be a romance, written and set in the early 1900's, and taking place largely in Colorado Springs, complete with photographs. One, of Nevada Avenue, surprised me with its familiarity: the street is paved now, but Philip and I take it on the way home from church every Sunday. The story itself was sweet, simple, and pretty predictable, at least to the veteran of such novels. All in all, there were no surprises, but the writing was enjoyable and the narrating character sympathetic.

Fed the cat and watered the plants after dinner, then took Lark on her run. There appeared to be a gathering of the picnic or barbecue variety at the green house; what was less explicable was the man sitting in the car parked along the road. Nor was he explained; but he did warn me about continuing, saying I was likely to run into a bunch of boys playing Airsoft war out back, and that they might mistake me for one of them. I thanked him for the warning and acknowledged this possibility. I was wearing a white t-shirt, which was helpful, but I made sure to take off my hat. In the end I doubt they noticed me, being occupied in camping behind their cover and carrying on urgent discussions through their walkie-talkies. Spoiled kids.....We did meet, some way into the trail, a middle-aged couple. The woman paused to ask about Lark, and to tell me they'd run into a similar dog earlier. To my regret, we saw no sign of any other dogs, nor met anyone else.