The Christmas Covid Tale Continues! Part 2

 

Here's my IV buddy. Carrie had bought him for me when I had the hysterectomy. He is the perfect size and thickness for resting my hand against. He is perfect for sleeping with when I am on my opposite side, so there is a pillow under my hand but not something so thick it makes my arm fall asleep. 

He is perfect. First thing I asked Geoff to throw in the overnight bag for me. 

Thank you forever Carrie for this little guy.

The medication they put me on comes in 5 doses, once a day. Got the Friday night bit taken care of late as mentioned in the last entry. I had the insomnia, got Saturday's dose around 3pm which was a far more reasonable time. 

As everyone knows, there is a lot going on in hospitals. This entire floor was converted to single rooms, used to be two beds per room. It was very private (nice) and isolating (also nice). 

I watched about 90 hours of North Woods Law (not exaggerating) because it was something I'd never seen before, and looking at all the New Hampshire places I'd been made me smile. 

Up until Saturday I didn't have a lot of energy to communicate with people. At home I didn't feel like typing or talking. My sister was auntie 20 questions and got all up into information mode, which became just even more exhausting to me. No I don't know my O2. No I don't have a cough. No I .... ohmygosh leave me alone.

Once I got to the urgent care and then shipped to the hospital, she channeled that energy, thankfully, and took up the family helm. She used Facebook to not just communicate with my friends, but hers, an email list, and the Guster fan group. Which then turned into 900 emails/comments/questions. Everyone wanted to know about symptoms, about my Oxygen levels, was I coughing? Wheezing? Able to breathe okay? Too many requests for specific details. I had to waive off two friends who were just going bonkers with questions and I was not about to post specific answers to their questions on Facebook.

Yes I'm fine, I said. 

To be honest I felt more like a Victorian dowager lady lounging around on the settee, in the room (seriously, room for 20 visitors and no visitors allowed) taking tea and talking about the poets while wearing our best up-do hair styles and our nicest paisley dresses. 

I'm welcoming of the new company and introduce the ladies who had not yet met. Tea service and little sandwiches, perfect. And nothing tastes weird or off. And yes, Yeats, what is going on with that man?

Mornings started early, between 4am and 5am. Vitals and meds in pill form, and then I could order breakfast at 7 so I'd either be wide awake or try and snooze more. I was across from the nurse's station, a lot of chaos sometimes, a lot of alarms, but the vent above the bed blowing in the air conditioning was very loud so it drowned out a lot of things. 

Getting that wee pre-breakfast snoozle was always nice. 

Doctor visits and evaluations, wear the O2 monitor and walk around. That's where things got fun. Resting O2 was about 93% but when getting up to walk it would drop way below 90 and my pulse would shoot up to 140 from resting 74. 

So not so good, Al. They instructed me that if I needed to go to the bathroom, call for the nurse to be there first (I didn't always because waiting to go pee or poop in my life can be a challenge). I napped a lot on Saturday, making up for that Friday night insomnia. 

Food was okay - still couldn't taste much and was glad Doug packed some snacks because I was actually hungry at this point. Saltines and apples, a little granola, had a milk and 3 peanut butter containers left over from breakfast so I had a nice peanut butter apple snack with my granola in a bowl with the milk. The nurses were impressed with my snacking. We talked about my blood sugar, which was skyrocketing because of the meds, and timing food and snacks with blood screens. And I told them that the cafeteria needed to not send up ice cream to the diabetic patient even if it is a nice treat that fit in the X amount of carbs allowed. 

Do not tease and tempt me with this tiny blue bunny chocolate ice cream hoodsie cup size container.

The nursing staff were very good. We had some fun. I always have fun in the hospital because I'm a weirdo. On Sunday morning my nurse was very nervous because she was going to get her vaccine for Covid, and I asked why she was nervous. "I just am, this is so unknown," she replied. 

"You come in here every single day and work with patients who are dying, cannot breathe, I'd be more terrified to come in here to work than get the shot!" 

She agreed and said something about how she needed "his strength" to get through. 

"Do you pray?" I asked her.

"Yes, but it is hard right now, so hard." 

"Stop moving, let's pray," I said. She was stunned and did that with me. Later she came back and said she felt so good going in for the shot, that she appreciated the prayer. 

That night, 4 people died on our floor. 

She came in around 8pm to set up my IV and was frazzled and apologetic, "I'm so sorry I left you a lot today," she said. But no, I said, I was going to buzz around 9 and ask about the IV but I could tell it was rough out there. It's noisy. You all are in it. I can wait. They can't.

"A 51 year old man told me "I am going home to Jesus, Miss Rosa. I'm going home to Jesus." And I told him to just stay here with me, and he could not." 

She told me she hadn't eaten since the vaccine. She had to go do paperwork for the county and would have a snack. I didn't see her again during my stay but I'm thinking of her. 

My doctor had ordered a second chest X-ray to see how things were. Nothing was getting worse, which is a good thing, but instead of sending me home after the third dose of the meds they wanted to keep me for the full ride of 5. Infectious diseases said that if the lungs were looking amazing they'd opt to end the treatment. I was okay with them keeping me and let's do all 5. Why not. Here's to Sunday and Monday night in bed. 

The IV line they had put in back at Urgent Care on Friday morning had stopped working. She hooked me up to the medication that night and my arm started to swell. Poor Nurse Rosa, running around trying to get someone to come redo the IV. She found a woman to come up and she put in a nice fresh line, perfect. She went to do the last step and blood came shooting out all over so all 3 of us started to laugh. But then she stopped and was upset. 

"Oh this is not funny," she gasps, "Please forgive me, please forgive me!" 

But it was funny. It was funny to me. It was all okay, and just a little weirdness with the way the line went in and didn't flush right. But I told her there's nothing to forgive about, just a lot to be thankful for. We went back to laughing and the meds started flowing into the IV, and I gave thanks for the skill and knowledge of these amazing women.

Watched a lot of Football on Sunday night, hit the hay and was out cold by about 11:30. 

Monday was a blur, check ins with the doctors on call, more good conversations with nurses. I don't think anyone died on Monday but I could be wrong. The chaplain's office called me Monday night right as I was going to watch Monday Night Football. Bhati and I had a great talk, "I came on Friday and I'm just now hearing from the Chaplains? What's up with that?" He sighed, "oh, so busy, Chris. So busy. We're making phone calls instead of coming to rooms because of Covid Protocols. We're only coming to rooms if someone needs an in person, you know. They are asking, or they are close." 

I got it. We talked about swimming in this tank right now, about the holy spirit, and the faith many show, the faith they fear to show, the faith they lack. 

"For me, I know what I believe as a Christian. That's religion. But Chaplaincy is about love, not about religion, so you have to know a lot about history and faith but more than everything you have to be full of compassion, empathy, love. No amount of religious teaching will fill that gap. People need love right now. And it may change their lives and outcomes."

He said "so where did you get your chaplaincy certification?" I laughed. "Oh no honey, I do technical support for a living. But it is a lot of the same principles. Love them, they need your help when they break the Content Management System." 

We prayed together, he prayed for me, I prayed for him. He offered me a job. I told him that right now I needed to make tech support money but that a future opportunity would be welcome.

Tuesday was slated for discharge day, so I got up, packed and ready. Final dose of the IV administered at about noon. Ate lunch while it ran. Bag packed. Ready to go. So ready to go.

The big ready to go thing for me was the fact I wanted a shower. They couldn't allow me to shower because of the IV line and because everyone is at risk of falling and they don't have someone who can CNA there and help. I understood. But Jaysus, did I want a shower by about Sunday morning. Here we were on Tuesday, and I've got a hat on, a hoodie over it, and I asked the nurse if she could smell my armpits because I could not, but oh did I bet they were rank nasty. 

Doug picked me up, we went towards the house and decided to go pick up my prescriptions from the clinic near the house. Unfortunately, they were sent to Gaithersburg, even though we ironed everything out and I had the electronic signature info handy to show they should be there. We opted to come home, and now here we find ourselves needing to go out and pick up the order now that it is all ironed out. 

I do not wish to go out, but this needs must do. Doug and Geoff both still have the Covid. Doug is exceptionally cranky, so it is difficult being with him a bit. I thought he just needed food last night but his cranky pants are still on. 

It could be worse, I guess. He did make a nice Christmas dinner for us last night, and it was lovely even though small and I couldn't taste a lot. Him just making that for us really touched my heart. 

Alright. To the pharmacy. I think I have one other observational experience to round out this series of posts. Watch for that next update.

It's a Christmas Covid Tale! Part 1

 First, no dog. 

Dog's human has changed her mind. And it is probably for the best since we just had a week of adventure. It would have been nice to have a dog handy for some love and cuddles, but, better that we did not.

Around December 13, Sunday, I got a bit nauseous and had a slight fever. I thought I caught a stomach bug. Took Monday and Tuesday off. Wednesday felt better, Thursday I felt much better, but I still felt slightly off. Doug ordered Chinese food, because a good miso soup or Hot & Sour always makes for better feels. 

One sip, one spoonful, and I almost died. It was horrible. The taste was just nasty, salty, greasy. Tried some fried rice. How can you go bad with fried rice? 

Oh man no. Equally bad. 

And then I realized I could not smell the shrimp curry. At All. Super bad sign when you were looking forward to super spicy feel good foods that always cure all.

A big symptom of Covid is the loss of taste and smell. My smell was off for sure, but the taste was tasting, and just not tasting right. I ate saltine crackers, and they were perfect. Safe food.

Doug had no problem smelling the swell smells of chinese food. I forced myself to eat an egg roll (awful) and went to bed. Geoff came home about an hour later saying they sent him home sick. He was dizzy, head achey, just felt horrible. 

Great kids, guess what I think is happening here.... We caught the Covid. 

I went online to schedule a test. Nothing available until the following Tuesday, 12/22. Geoff dragged his feet and didn't get a test scheduled until Wednesday. 

I pretty much went to sleep Thursday, 16 plus hours. Called into meetings on Friday but told my manager I was basically down for the count. More fun trying to eat food. Doug ordered pizza and all I could eat was the crust. I had some slices of cheddar cheese which tasted like plastic but they were harmless. Slept most of the weekend, fighting a headache and fever. 

Fever for me is anything over 99. My temperature is usually 97.7 about (a good classic rock radio band) and so if I get to 99 you know we're in toasty sound. Temps were flipping between low 99 to up to 102. Chills, sweats, sleep, inability to stay awake for longer than 90 minutes. 

Got my test done, got the results the following afternoon, and it was positive. Telehealth called me to check in and we talked about the headache. They wanted me seen in person so we went up to Gaithersburg, on Thursday. Doug had to wait in the car and I was in the Urgent Care for hours. They ended up checking my O2 (about 95%, a little low but not jaw dropping) and they gave me a prescription for the headache and some antibiotics. 

The following day (mind you, it is Christmas Day) and they had me test my oxygen again. It was 90. The cough had arrived, the headache was better but not gone. They wanted me back at Gaithersburg. 

And then they transferred me to the hospital by my house. In my neighborhood. A great place, but, not like anyone could come visit and hang out with me. At least Doug could come by with a bag of stuff for me (laptop, charger, book, snacks, changes of clothing, the good stuff you need when you are in isolation. 

We got me started on a covid medication  by IV that they can only administer in hospital. It causes a bit of insomnia, and I was up until 6am. Got a 90 minute nap later in the morning. 

Christmas in the Covid Isolation Ward begins. 

I'll update more tomorrow. It is getting late, and not to give the ending away but I'm indeed home. And will share the rest of our tale tomorrow. 

End of Year Dog?

We have talked to several dog rescue agencies, well, Doug has. He has been on the hunt. 

Shelters and organizations mostly. We do not have a fully fenced yard, so we are shot down immediately. Even though we don't plan on ever taking a new dog out without a leash "it is our policy" is what we run into. 

Recently, he has discovered rehoming sites where people who cannot care for their dogs for whatever reason (no time! my aunt was the owner and she died! etc etc) and has been looking for a new friend there instead. 

He figures, we have the time, even if the yard is not fully fenced, these people who are getting rid of their dog obviously should not be so picky. Right?

We had thought about no dog until after we move in March (or ... February, if we find the right place) but Doug may have found the buddy for us. And he is only a few miles away, instead of Richmond or Philadelphia. 

We are going to go visit with him on Saturday. 

He is a small dog (should make whoever we rent from happy?) and he is 10, so we may not get 14 years out of him but we'll get a goodly sum, I think. Especially with our track record.

I almost burst into tears thinking about what it may be like to have a dog in the house with us again. I was in the kitchen baking tonight, and I thought "oh I wish I had a dog to just clean up that blob of cream cheese I just pflorrrffed onto the floor. Ah me. I guess I shall have to clean it up." We'll see what happens. 

I'll keep you posted.

Speaking of keeping you posted, C - my only reader that I know is really out there - I have updates about My Left Boob. C, I'll talk to you in person before I blog. But it isn't anything to worry about! So don't panic if you are reading this right now. It's all good. 

Also, for anyone who is reading this who isn't my girl C - yesterday was her birthday. And if we were near each other I'd shower her with a lovely lunch and exciting time together doing something. But my brain does not work, and I'm far away, so instead I'll just wish her love and a happy early birthday, looking forward to next year. 

Next year where maybe we can do something. 

Anyway. The dog's name is Phineas. so if you want to think of him, and what life may be like with a dog named Phineas in my house, send me good vibes for Saturday.  

The Thanks Post for 2020

We had Thanksgiving, here in the USA. 

2020 has been a weird year. This year I knew Jess was not coming down to hang with us (I am pretty sure in 28 years, this is the first Thanksgiving we've ever had not as a foursome). 

Doug invited his aunt and cousin to join us even though I didn't want anyone in our house. I wanted it to just be us. If Jess couldn't be here, well then no one can be here. 

He felt it was alright. So they came. We had a lovely dinner. I did all our shopping super far in advance and the turkey was pre-brined which I didn't read on the label. It was probably the best turkey we've ever had. 

I took Doug's aunt on a short walk because she's got some vein and circulation issues that cause her to need a walk. Two blocks and that was far enough for her. She's 80, so I was proud of her for getting where we did, and she thanked me for dragging her out. It made me feel like I'm some sort of athletic rock star here, just to bring her safely up to our little free library (and Pokestop!) and around the block. I told her it was all downhill back to the house. She was very relieved and said it was the longest walk she's had in a while. She usually walks around the dining room. I encouraged her to get a fitbit or something, and see how many steps it is around the block. Or up to the corner and back. And then break that each day by 10 steps. Seeing as I don't even like to go outside anymore, I'm not exactly the one to take advice from. 

But she seemed really happy for me to give her that encouragement.

The Day After Thanksgiving was pie for breakfast day. 

Pictured is a mess pile of my sour cream apple pie and my coffee with whipped cream and cinnamon and cocoa powder on top. 

It doesn't count for sugar, carbs, whatever. It's the day after Thanksgiving. And I didn't have a slice the night before so it's all good. We're good. 

Sour cream apple pie is actually a pretty bomb ass thing to make. Freaking delicious. 

We took a long walk yesterday. Doug wanted to "walk off the sugar" and made me and Geoff get in the car to take a walk at the C&O Canal. The parking areas we usually go to were closed and filled with construction vehicles so we drove further towards the city and ended up at a spot at the intersection of Clara Barton and Chain Bridge. It was a good place to park, and while there were a lot of people on the tow path, we went off the path an into the woods to walk closer to the Potomac. 

We sat by the river and enjoyed the spot. I've driven above here a million times on the GW Parkway, that's in the picture above, where the sun is about to come down on the overpass. I always wondered how to get down here, and now I know. 

We met some good dogs.

It was a 3 mile round trip walk. Felt good and we had a lot of fun.

Today was another beautiful day but I mostly hovered indoors. My house is so nice and clean from having company that I'm greatly enjoying being up in here. 

We are starting to think about our move, looking at listings and things and starting to think about life. I still have books I was thinking of unpacking but those are going to stay put. 

Happy to be here and dreading the move deeply. I am tempted to contact my property manager and say "are they really sure they want to sell? I mean, reallllllyyyyy?" 

I know I am feeling selfish. But I'm happy. I'm here and settled and looking around my living room and my plants, and my books and just feeling like I don't want to let this go. 

Not yet. 

I'm thankful for this spot. This neighborhood and the people we've gotten to know. For Pat and Tony & Betsy. For the Pokestop up the street that gets me out most days just to hit the spinner. For the closeness of the Metro that I have not ridden since March, but knowing it is there. For how easy it is for Geoff to get to classes when he needs to get to classes in person. For the ease of access to the Beltway, even if the Beltway is a shit show most days. For how I only have a few miles if I want to drive into DC, to my office or to anywhere else. 

I'm happy here. I'm not in love with here. But this building and the surrounding area, I'm cool with it. Very cool. Content. And that's half the battle in being thankful. To recognize what brings you calm and comfort. It isn't perfect but it is good. It is better than all the alternatives. It is safe. I'm safe. 

And for all of that, I'm truly thankful. 

Sleepy Bitch Disease

 Jess tweeted that they needed to have a COVID test, someone at their brand new job had the 'rona. They got called on Saturday and learned they needed to go in and get tested. 

No biggie - Geoff has been tested twice, if someone who has been in the same building with you has it, you go get tested.

Later on, they posted "Bad news, tested positive for sleepy bitch disease." 

Which.

I interpreted as tested positive for Covid-19.  Because Jess would, of course, call it something like sleepy bitch disease. 

Jess didn't post anything else, nothing. So I thought oh shit - they are not feeling well. I sat here worrying. So today I couldn't stand it any longer, and I called and asked what happens next. Are you feeling okay? Do you want to get retested? Can you call Dr. E (our family practitioner) and get tested? Do you need anything. What are Liz & Ashleigh going to do - they are supposed to be headed back from their Thanksgiving retreat to Ohio. Can they come in the apartment? Do they have to go somewhere else? Oh my God, do you need anything I can have 10 people at the back porch with groceries and mom-level care within the hour. 

"Mah," says Jess. I tested positive for sleepy bitch disease, not covid." 

"Oh," I pondered, "so....that's just normal you. Sleepy Bitch, okay I get it. You've had terminal sleepy bitch disease your whole life." 

"Exactly."

They laughed hysterically at me. Deservedly so. The fact I'd read "sleepy bitch disease" as Covid. Of course. Of course, your mom is going to read that as you got the 'rona. Because people are sleepy. They don't feel good. All the time. Yes. Okay. 

We laughed, they were thankful that I was worried and concerned. Jess' insurance doesn't kick in until the end of January, so right now they are waiting for the bridge of Mass Health to kick in on December 1st  (this is a new job they started at the end of October) so I was worried about expenses. Paying for treatment if treatment is needed. No need to worry. Test is covered by her company. No worries for the most part. Most likely 99.999% not the Rona. 

Jess had talked to their manager (who, by they way, was at the same testing station they were at on Saturday).  The manager said that if they don't have each of their results tonight, they don't have to go to work tomorrow and won't have to eat a vacation or sick day, which is good since Jess has only earned one vacation day so far and it would suck to give it up because they don't have test results. 

We had a fun chat. I was quite relieved to know that sleepy bitch disease is not the same as Coronavirus. The only thing Jess has is a terminal case of sarcasm. 

Jess' friend Molly has the 'rona, so I dropped her a line today. I'm momming all over that, worried about my girl there and always concerned about the children even when I can't be right there to help. 

Not much else is going on - I have some boob news but will save that for a non-Sleepy Bitch Disease update. 

My boss is on furlough next week, which sucks because I can't even reach out to him to ask a question. Furlough is the worst. It isn't like on Vacation where if I feel I am justified I can ask and he'd be kind enough to give me a reply. 

Furlough is like he's dead to me. And there is a lot he does that I don't know how to do. So tomorrow morning I'm in need of stuff he normally would have done for meetings, and I'm lost. Luckily we have a colleague in another department who knows how to do the things he does, so I'm going to ask for a little guidance and tet myself looking like I know what I'm doing. 

That's about the update from here.

The Delmarva

We live far from the ocean. I don't think in my heart of hearts I truly appreciated where I lived, until I couldn't drive 15 minutes, grab a coffee, and go park at the beach. "Oh, but you live near the Potomac River, certainly there are nice places to go to hang out there?" Some people have said to me.

Meh. Not really. Not places that I feel are my style, or affordable. 

It takes about a half hour, maybe a little more, just to get to Annapolis from here. Which isn't the ocean, but it is a lot like Newburyport and I like it. It's a good place to visit.

I often suggest we take little trips over to Annapolis, and Doug will "meh" it off. Traffic, too many people, nowhere to park, etc etc. And now in the pandemic times, too many people is not the kind of thing either of us want to deal with. 

So we head west into the mountains instead, where the state and national parks have a lot more space. I like the mountains and all. So it's nice to go there. But. It isn't the ocean. And I do miss the ocean.

We were supposed to take a trip to Williamsburg, VA on Saturday for my birthday, but I wasn't in the mood. Pandemic. We should stay home. We shouldn't be going places. And, after the boob prodding, my body is sore, and I'm a little bit cranky, and I just didn't want to do. 

Doug had also looked at things to do and places to stay, and Williamsburg was looking pretty underwhelming. A lot of restaurants are closed, the tourist things that one would like to do are kind of not open. I had wanted to go see my friend who is now working at William and Mary, but then again, I wasn't feeling very social. I would want to have a visit in better spirits. 

This pandemic, yo. This pandemic. Got me feeling beat. My turn to Meh.

Doug suggested a day trip over to the ocean, because he pays attention to things that might make me happier, or at least happy. 

I thought we'd be going to Annapolis or maybe just over the bridge to the direct other side of the bay. 

We'd been to Easton and St. Michaels, and to Cambridge, and down to Salisbury.  That always seemed like the farthest I'd want to go for a day trip. 

But that isn't the ocean, he says. That's the Chesapeake Bay. He meant the ocean. He meant Ocean City, MD. 

"Dude, that is far," was my reply. 

"Yeah, but this is the time to go! It's going to be a beautiful day, it is off season, so hopefully not a lot of people will be there, and it's the ocean." And it is only a little further east than Salisbury so. 

Okay. I guess.

We got up early (for us) had coffee, and were out the door at 9:30, made it there after noon. 

The parking lot at the south end of town was sparsely occupied. Not sure where to start, we sat and looked at the inlet and the jetty across the way, enjoying the light on the water. 

We walked up into the Boardwalk area, admired the roller coaster and the ferris wheel, both still and silent. 

Some places were open, it had a feel of off-season and not pandemic times. 

People seem to really like the French Fry vendors and the lines were long. Lots of your usual T-shirts and sassy tourist things, half of them open, half closed. I can just imagine some girl named Becky coming home with that face piercing, but no this time of year. We passed on getting me some soft serve ice cream, but let it be known I'm happy to know there is soft serve to be found, seeing as there isn't any near where we live. 

Beachfront inns and hotels on the boardwalk were mostly closed, a couple of people were in the condos overlooking the beach, smoking on their balconies and people watching. In my head I was wondering if those were air b&b rentals of if they own them, and actually live there year round or on weekends or something. I had a twinge of envy looking out onto the beach and knowing that sunrises are probably spectacular.

We walked up a ways, playing pokemon and just enjoying the day. We found a place to have lunch but they had a very limited menu. Two cocktails and some wings, and our turn to people watch while sitting out socially distanced on the patio. 

Lots of dogs, perfectly still ocean, no waves. Metal detectorists looking for that treasure, dude bros throwing the football, some with their shirts off, children climbing all over the walls and the play sculptures along the sand. 

It was gorgeous. I really wanted for us to be staying in a hotel and not have to budge, and just walk further up the boardwalk to continue this kind of relaxing time. But I knew we'd be having to drive home, and it gets dark early these days.

Ocean City comes across as a far less desperate boardwalk than Atlantic City. There were wonderful restaurant patios everywhere, most closed, so I could imagine an early summer day here. 

Atlantic City doesn't have all this boardwalk eatery action because they want your ass in the casinos. But this is the place to be. Relaxed, eating, drinking, and just looking at those two gorgeous golden retrievers walking this way.

Hello, ladies. 

On our way back to the car, it seemed more people were coming out to enjoy the end of the day. Saw a lot of kids with soccer or sports shirts from their towns, a lot of local towns not far, so kind of a good thing to do if you live nearby. Wait until off season, and come down and enjoy the end of a warm day on the beach, before it gets too cold and dreary. Lots of families on bikes, lots more dogs. 

And there was a Jeep beach drive, which in theory we could have joined because now we have a Jeep and it can probably drive on the beach. But we just watched and enjoyed.  Probably 50 or so Jeeps, with a police escort. It wasn't dark yet but a few were decked out with lights that made them look like a rolling rave. And one had a Christmas tree on top. 

Bye, Ocean City. See you later. 

When it was time to go, Doug suggested we drive further north, go up to the end to Rehoboth Beach. 

We pulled off a couple times to walk among the dunes, and got to enjoy a really nice sunset behind us, shining on the people with their cars on the beach (always freaks me out when people do this), spaced far apart with fishing poles and children and puppies. 

The only thing missing that I would have loved were bonfires. No one had a bonfire. Not sure if that's against the law or what, but it would have made the scene. 

I didn't take any pictures at Rehoboth, this one is from one of the pull offs between Dewey Beach and Bethany Beach, I think. By the time we got to Rehoboth, the sun was pretty much set, people were still playing on the beach, the boardwalk is different, and it is much more food focused than tourist t-shirt focused. I think if we head back maybe this is the better place to spend a weekend. I really liked it, liked the vibe, liked the beach. I was sad to leave but it was time. 

It was dark. 

Driving from Rehoboth to the west, it's pretty dark. The landscape of Delaware changes fast from beach resort to farmland, and it is dark. Two lane roads, no lights. Farm houses in the distance and the occasional drive-through Christmas light display at a church or a park. It felt like it took forever. I remember once we went to Baltimore from Atlantic City, and had taken the Cape May/Lewes Ferry, and drove through this area, but it was daytime and corn for miles. Night is a whole different thing. 

When we finally got near Denton, it felt like we were starting to kind of get back to civilisation. 

We got gas right before Kent Narrows, and decided to get some dinner since we didn't have a decent lunch. 

Doug pulled off 50 and into an area that is probably completely out of control in the summer. 

We picked the first thing we saw, The Fisherman's Inn. I know my cousin Craig likes a place down there, and will drive over from Baltimore to go hang out, but I couldn't remember the name of it for the life of me (turns out, it is The Jetty, after he texted me back this morning. Duly noted). 

I took this picture for Untappd, the beer check-in app I use, and I liked the glowing fish out of focus in the background. 

We had this entire dining area to ourselves. There is a little train that goes around on a track up above the tables, it is really cute. There was a dad that carried his kid around the restaurant, obviously so mom could eat a meal in peace, and they were following the train as it came around the rooms of the restaurant. I think the little boy had to be about 15 months old at the very most, with his pacifier in his mouth, pointing up at the train when it came through the hole into the room, watching as it came all around. The dad apologized to us, but honey, I have lived this life. You're good, friend. You are good. 

Then they left to walk along under the track into the next area. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually they didn't come back in. Mom must have finished dinner. Time to go.

Dinner was great, it was a really nice place to be, a little more expensive than I would have liked to pay but hell, it was my birthday weekend, right? No expense. 

We got home at 9pm. All told a good day trip, and I have all my mental notes for a possible overnight one day in the Future Times when I'll feel more like going and being and participating in the world. If that time comes again to our culture. When we can all enjoy some Shenanigans, in all forms. 

My Boob

Yesterday was my 54rd birthday. Holy shit, I'm 54.

In pure me style, I scheduled myself a breast biopsy ... on my birthday. Of course. Like you do. 

Why? Well. In February, I had a mammogram, there was calcification. They asked me to come back in 60 days, but I wasn't wanting to go into any medical facility during the whole (gestures at everything) pandemic year. 

I finally went back in early November, and there was more calcification. They used terms like "dense" and "thready" and they said they wanted to do a breast biopsy. 

I agreed and made the appointment. They wanted to do it that week, but it's a weird time at work, and asking for time off on short notice isn't kind to the team. I had already planned on taking off my birthday and the day after (my "early birthday") so I decided I'd schedule the appointment for 11/20. 

Unfortunately, they only do them on Tuesdays and Thursdays so it would have to be 11/19, Thursday, my actual birthday. How lovely. Really, it was no big deal to do so. We were not planning anything fun, a trip or anything. The latest rise in COVID-19 cases spoke of us staying put and not going anywhere. Doug did not take any time off, so I figured I may as well just do it. Get it over with. RCJ said I should show up with a sash and a tiara on. It's my birthday. I'm the princess. 

When I checked myself in for the procedure, the girl at the desk said "Can you confirm your name and birthdate, oh wait whaaaaat?!" It was actually delightful.  She was of course reading my birthdate was that day. I laughed and confirmed. 

"Why would you do this to yourself on your birthday? On this blessed day!" 

"I already had a day off, and, I figured it's my birthday so God will be kind to me. Or, if 2020 is going to be peak 2020 and things don't go kindly, I'll have a hell of a story to share." 

I then made her sing happy birthday to me. Which she did.

When I was brought into the procedure room, the doctor, nurse, and radiology tech all noted my birthday. I asked them to sing to me. I then told them they were the masked singer(s) and they thought it was a riot. 

So far, so fun. 

The process was easy enough. They talked me through everything they were doing while I was flat on my belly on a table where my tiny, pathetic, little left breast hung down and they could do their thing. 

"There's going to be a little pressure" says the doctor. I broke into "Under Pressure" by Bowie and Queen, and they cracked up. 

"You should have a sound system in here and people can submit a playlist before they come in to get probed. I could make a really good one." They thought that was a great idea. "We used to have music playing in here, and we should go back to that. It's a good idea!"

Lidocaine, me swearing and apologizing, needle insertion, pushing, picture taking noises, them soft talking, needle moving, more talking. About a half hour later, they were done. My neck and shoulders hurt more than my breast. The nurse spent some time rubbing my neck before I got up off the table. I thanked her and told her that I used to treat myself to a massage at my friend Sue's therapy spa for my birthday (which made me miss Sue and the spa). She said that she was happy to fill that gap. Not the same but the kindness was palpable.

They gave me discharge instructions. Explained that I would be really sore later. Not right away, but later. They weren't kidding. They encouraged me to wear a sports bra to bed. I laughed and said I didn't even really know where any of my regular bras were, I hadn't worn them since March. And for sure I didn't have a sports bra in my possession. I wore a tank top to bed, it was the closest thing I had.

In the middle of the night, after Geoff had finished watching TV and gone to bed, I woke up and everything really hurt. More Tylenol and an ice pack. Doug had gone into the other bedroom at some point, so he wasn't there to hear me complaining and tossing about. 

I fell back asleep around 6am, wishing I had some sleeping pills or something that would have gotten me through the night. I told RCJ this morning that it hurt all the way to my spine, like.... how deep did you folks gotta dig to get a little something something. Ack. 

Doug and I were going to go to Williamsburg tomorrow, spend a night at a nice hotel. But I'm feeling with the uptick in COVID-19 nonsense that I'm not at all interested in being somewhere other than my house, as much as I do really wish I was staying somewhere and enjoying time away. It isn't worth it.

There is a lot of "Covid Thanksgiving instead of Funeral Christmas" stuff floating around on the internet, and I'm all in agreement. Stay home. Be safe. See how things are doing in 4 weeks. Then figure something out. 

And then, go somewhere. Later.

So, while I didn't get to have a nice few days at a hotel, travel somewhere, do something, thinking of our past when we'd go somewhere like Montreal for my birthday, I'm happy to be home and safe. 

Will know more about my boob on Monday I think. And am hoping for that birthday nothingburger, and not the "boy do I have a story to tell about turning 54."

Here's to the nothingburger.

The Day Before November

"We were brown and tall, Jew and small, freckled fat, bucktooth flat

black and broken, short and Christian, with teeth and hair in every direction.
We were 20 different ways on how to pitch or catch a ball,

but the day before November was the best day of the fall."
-Vance Gilbert

I would like to share this video of my friend Vance Gilbert singing a song. Go watch. 

Welcome back. I hope you liked it. It is in my head and I wanted to share this gem with you, in this world that is not friendly and not fun, and Halloween not being what Vance sings about here anymore anyway. It makes me sad. But such is our lives anymore. And what a story to tell. As only Vance sometimes can.

It is Halloween night. 

I'm drinking red wine, which is not my favorite. I prefer Pinot Grigio. But it is a kind thing because we are transportation challenged and Geoff ordered beer and wine online, and this was what they had. So I'm not complaining at all because he was thoughtful. 

Thoughtful is outstanding. 

I've been working really hard at trying to fix the monkey's breakfast that a "designer" made of Aaron's website (it's not that bad but I'm super stumped on a few very key elements like how to edit the navigation and how to change the header photos. My head hurts from this, so I gave up for the night and we settled in for dinner and looking out the window. 

Our county is "strongly advising" against door to door trick or treating, or Trunk or Treating, or any contact children would make with a neighbor's front door. 

We thought for certain at least one kid would come a-knocking but no one did. 

We watched a hoard of 15 kids and 10 parents walk down the road, everyone was dressed up, everyone was laughing, but I think they were going to another house down the road with more kids and more parents and making the best of what this all is, together. Without visiting upon folk like us. 

Initially it made me mad, but then I felt like .... okay. They've made an arrangement with friends, they're doing something when folks should do nothing, but they are doing so with their own knowledge and plans. 

I can't be mad. I went to Oregon and all that, right?

But, I missed them. I wanted kids to come to the door or at least down the bottom step and yell. I was willing to chuck some treats into open bags. 

I thought about making a chute to send things down. I thought about decorating and putting something on Nextdoor to let people know we'd be here and we had a sanitary plan. But I had no energy going into this. No heart. No execution. 

I miss the children. I really love when the kids come around. It was kind of a drudgery when I had to do it as a parent, but now? I love it. 

I love saying "you can take more than one." I love the creativity of the costumes. I love getting to know some of the kids and knowing who they are in the neighborhood. 

And this year, without Brodie, there is no barking or surprise for when people ring the bell. 

Last year it was so nice, I was out barefoot. One of the real benefits of living in the DC area is the late October weather.

When we lived in Massachusetts, we only had one house where we got a goodly amount of Halloweeners. Here, we get a great turn out, and this year is just sad. 

Here's a photo of me from last halloween. I didn't dress up for 2019 the way I did when we were in Boston, and the first year in DC when we dressed as Bob's Burgers. 

I wore this shirt again today, and I wanted to show it to people coming up on the porch as an everlasting reminder. But it is not to be. 

Next year, I guess. I hope. I truly hope. 

Trivia Night

 My sister has a friend who is in a band (I guess I'm friends with him too now?) and during the pandemic he has been hosting trivia nights on Zoom on Tuesdays. He has partnered with a friend in England who does the same questions the next day, only earlier on our calendar. 

Tuesday nights at 9pm I'm pretty toasty and done for the day, and 4pm GMT on Wednesdays is while I am still working. I have not gone every week, probably once a month, and I always have a great time. 

The questions are a lot of pop culture or deep pop content, like tonight we went into the 70s into things like Super Dave and when Albert Brooks was a ventriloquist. 

It's always a laugh riot, and I should make myself do these things. I should target the time, and set myself apart from the things and just go. 

It is hard though. I am sick of sitting in front of a computer and working, so now I'm sitting in front of a computer and playing. One week I continued to do helpdesk tickets while playing and someone asked if I was googling answers because the reflection in my glasses was a big white screen - and I was trying to fix something, so I wasn't even paying attention to the questions at that point. 

I feel like I need to just learn how to not work.

Trivia night is a good way to do that, and I was playing D&D with a bunch of people but that fell apart at the end of the summer. We have gone literally 6 weeks without playing and I miss that. I felt like our story was really developing. And I kind of wish I knew how to DM because I'd ask if I could take the game, but, then I wouldn't be able to play my awesome character. 

Knowing how to disconnect and do other things is important.

I have not been using social media nearly as much as I used to. It used to be fun, but now it is just toxic and not a lot of fun. I started reading more. I finished one good book written by my friend Jim and started another that I was not sure I'd enjoy and had put off, but I am almost done with it, and can't wait to keep reading (like why am I writing this right now? I could be reading!) 

Taking myself away from the social medias and focusing on other things is important. I'm finding that my heart is lighter, and books are there, and if I need to be in front of a computer, well I have projects I can be working on like Aaron's website and all. 

Tonight's trivia night was fun. Let's put a pin in it for next Tuesday, shall we? and I'll promise to play. 

Goodbye to the Essie

Today, we said goodbye to the VW. The "Essie Mobile." 

When my aunt Esther died, my cousin Joe sold us her car. Shortly after we moved here, we found ourselves in need of two new cars. 

The Lincoln had been sideswiped, knocking the side view mirrors off, and our Chevy Blazer was on its last legs. 

Neither vehicle would pass Maryland state inspection. 

Doug sold the Blazer, got the Pontiac. And Joe didn't have a need for this car,  so after my aunt's funeral, we went over his place and bought it from him, then traded the Lincoln in for cash. 

The Essie was a good car - just what Geoff needed for driving to work every day. Small and zippy. Good mileage. Not a looker but a doer. Sturdy. 

I always like the unique sound of a VW door closing. It is firm and solid. Not flimsy like some other car doors. 

And I had a soft spot for the Essie. Having my aunt's rosary beads, which used to dangle from the rear view mirror relocated into the driver's side door made me feel like she was with us in the car, guiding and guarding.

We recently noted a heavy smell of exhaust coming into the car, we had the tailpipe replaced and another part of the exhaust patched. But that only fixed things for a little while. 

As Geoff was the primary driver of this car, he never complained. The car went. He got to work, and if the exhaust was annoying he rolled the windows down for fresh air. 

The check engine light was on, the car didn't have the usual pep. It backfired on me when I was driving it to the market. And the exhaust stink was a bit much.

On Monday I took the car to the guy who had fixed the tailpipe for us, and he said the catalytic converter was shot. Replacing it, and the exhaust parts it would require would run about $1200 without the labor. 

"Chris," he says, "The car is maybe worth $600 and I'd recommend not doing this replacement and just letting it go." 

So we decided to do just that. We went out and bought a used Jeep Liberty which we're going to pick up on Wednesday. And we sold the VW for parts to a local shop. 

We got about 300 bucks for her. I felt a little sad, but a parts car isn't like selling a car that is going to go to auction and make another family happy. The parts are going elsewhere. 

Everything except the catalytic converter, I guess. 

While the mechanic was going over the car, taking photos of the VIN and the odometer, and the engine. I stood off to the side watching, playing Pokemon. 

A cardinal flew into the tree beside me and chirped loudly at me over and over again. He  was very vocal, very loud. And I had to laugh because of course it did. I haven't seen a cardinal for months, but here we were. Visited by a talisman. The concept of a cardinal as a visit from a loved one looking over you hit on me. Oh hello. You are not happy with me selling your car, Essie? Or are you happy that we had it. We still have you. You're still with us. 

He sat in the only tree in the parking area that had converted to the fall colors. His bright red body stood out among the orange leaves. He held quite the conversation. I'm still not sure if I was chastised or told it was okay. Either way, he took off and we signed the paperwork to transfer the title.

Essie will still be with us.  The rosary beads will go into the new Jeep to keep us company. And I hope this new ride does Geoff well for his needs. Up the highway and back. 

And he can probably fit a kayak on this one, so that should make him very happy. Kayaks don't fit on VW Passats.

I'm your vehicle baby, I'll take you anywhere you want to go

"I'm your vehicle woman, by now I'm sure you know that I love you, 

I need you, I want you, I've got to have you child. Great God in heaven you know I love you."

-Ides of March "Vehicle"  

Flashing you back to the 70s, this song is stuck in my head right now, for a lot of good reasons. First off, it's an absolute banger. I never knew the name of the band until I went to find the link, and I watched about 6 versions before picking this one of a much older ensemble, I think this is from 2014 maybe, compared to their 1970 version. Second, that horn section. Shut up anyone who can't get behind this. And finally. It's a banger. 

Doug and I are looking for a new car right now to replace the VW. And we may have to replace the Pontiac too. 

For long time readers, you know that the VW Passat was sold to us on the cheap by my cousin when my aunt died. We call it the Essie Mobile in honor of her. It has been having some exhaust issues, and the catalytic converter is dying. We had someone at a local shop weld the pipe in place to the converter last year, and since our state has rules like "you don't have to have it inspected again ever" this is no big issue. The car has run fine.

But the pipe and the converter are no longer friends, and we find ourselves with an exhaust leak into the car, power and acceleration issues, and a check engine light. The estimate on the catalytic converter was 1200.00, and KBB says value of the car is about 700 bucks. 

Ha. 

Looked up the Pontiac on KBB too and trade in value on that isn't even 300.00 so I'm dying laughing. Oh, cars. 

Anyway, Doug and I have very different opinions on car shopping. I've drawn the line on him buying any more cars from some guy at his house. We lucked out with the Lincoln that we got from the guy in NH who was dying. I would like for us to go to a dealership and buy a used car from a dealership. 

Dealerships are required to make sure the vehicle passes inspection (you only gotta do it once!) without it costing the buyer any money. So that's on them. I like that. Second, I'm willing to take out a loan, but Doug has his life-long "I'm never getting a loan because a bank is not going to get a fucking penny out of me in interest." But. We could get a 0% financing loan - and the bank would very much not get a fucking penny out of him. 

We have a good amount of money in the bank, so we could put a decent down payment on a car, and pay a small monthly payment but pay it off faster the way I've been paying bills. But he's vetoed that and wants to buy a car outright. 

Add to the fact that I want a hatchback if we get another dog, because I didn't like having the dog ride in the back seat and fall all over the place when we took turns. It wasn't fair to any of our dogs once we didn't have a hatchback. So I told him he better buy one. When we have to replace the Pontiac, if he wants some sort of another pimpmobile, he can get a pimpmobile. 

And, I've gotten spoiled with having the rental car in Oregon, and a rental car now while we're shopping, and I want bluetooth. Living in Radio Jail is the worst, and being able to listen to all the stuff I want to (mostly Guster related) 

And, I would like a car made in this millennium. Not partying like Prince wanted us to in 1999. 

He asked me how much I thought we should spend. Knowing that a new subaru would be like 45,000 dollars, and that's just insane, and knowing what I kind of want, I told him I was prepared to put down 8000 and get a loan for the rest for a car made 2016 or later. Like, a 20,000 car. 

He clutched his heart like he was Fred Sandford and he was going to join is wife in heaven. 

He said he could do better, still make me almost happy (probably not the bluetooth part) and spend a fraction of what I thought we should spend.

While I for sure respect the no bank's gonna get a fucking penny out of me philosophy, I really feel like we're getting too old for this shit, and I'm a pretty princess who deserves bluetooth, and a hatchback for her yet non-existent dog. 

So we will see what we end up with. He's deep in his research and is looking at dealerships (thank goodness). He may have found something for his price that meets what I'm hoping for and we'll maybe go see it tomorrow afternoon. 

More to come. I am sure.

Emmily

 

I keep thinking about Emmily. 

When we met six years ago at the wedding we hit it off great. As usual, as Jess often observes, I have a tendency to set fire to children, and Emm was no different. 

Within minutes Aaron was trying to reel her in while I just encouraged shenanigans and hilarity. Classic.

Going out there to visit, it was right after her 12th birthday, and what a joy it was to visit with her and spend time again. She opted to ride with us everywhere (to give us directions to places that we knew how to get to), and she told us all kinds of great stuff about her friends, and music she likes, and just talking to us about life. 

She told me that she's kind of lonely, and not going to school in person is hard but she's doing the best she can. 

And being the Big Sister to a newborn, there is a lot of pressure on her to help out. She rises to that challenge, and she does an amazing job. The baby responds so well to her, and she sings BTS songs to him and dances with him, and he absolutely loves it. But I could feel it, she is kind of isolated, and at 12 you need your people. 

I bought her this sweatshirt as a gift - taught her about the Maryland State Flag and how wacky it is. She loved it. When we went out to dinner that night, she wore it just to show it to me. 

Emmily wants to go to medical school and also minor in dance. I can imagine a Doctor or Physician's Assistant grooving into an exam room, beautiful red hair flying and great moves - right before asking "so why are we here today?" 

We were riding in the car over the Astoria-Megler bridge on the way to the boat, looking out the window at the Columbia river. She told me it was boring living there, and I thought how can you look out the window at this, looking east up river at the ships, the sky, the mountains, the beauty of it all, and then looking west to the Pacific, where a storm was out there, but not yet over here. 

I told her to be thankful when she can, to look at these things and realize she's actually in the thick of gorgeousness. There is nothing boring about where she lives, just where she feels. Don't blame the scenery if she feels bored. 

I'd love for her to come visit. I'll show her some of the most boring scenery she'll ever imagine and she'll go back west and suddenly awaken to the truth that it spectacular there. 

Kidding, she'll probably still think everything is boring. 

I made dinner tonight, and she loves spicy food. When we were at a restaurant she had ramen with extra spice. The chef even told the waitress to ask her if she was certain she wanted that amount of spice. And she did. We sat there, I watched her smile and sweat through the soup. And she was exceptionally proud of how she loved this soup. Tonight's dinner would have made her super happy. I'll have to remember how I made it and serve it up for her. Sweating through my own dinner it put a smile on my face. 

She's a good egg, and when Aaron said he'd give us the friends & family discount, she was surprised "oh! He called you family!" 

yes. And you are too.

The weird dreams of this week

A few times since returning from Oregon, I've had dreams about water travel. 

I dreamed that I worked on Aaron's boat, that I was the tour guide while he drove the boat. Six people were in the salon with me, and I was telling them stories about the Columbia River and history like I really knew what I was talking about. Everyone was looking out the windows, and hanging on my stories. I was taking photos with a tablet device, so I could automatically upload them to social media during the tour.

Get this: I'm such a nerd, you guys, that even in my dream I gave people photo release forms at the beginning of the cruise and made sure those who didn't want their pictures included in social media were protected from having their images shared. 

How weird is that detail? 

At the end of the cruise, back at the dock, Aaron and I helped people disembark and the smiling passengers shook Aaron's hand, and they hugged me. Catch that fact - people... hugged me. 

I dreamed about a world where I could get hugs from strangers without thinking about "this person is closer than 6 feet, this person is touching me, none of us are wearing masks." 

Aaron and I were talking the other day and he said he would love it if I was the tour guide. Long time readers of this blog know that Aaron and I throw a good party. We plan really fun things. I really do bet we'd have one hell of a great tour with him cruising up the river, and me telling stories. 

Upon waking, I wondered if I truly hate my job. I mean, I love my job. But if I'm dreaming about other jobs where I think I'd have more fun, or I'd be happier, that's telling. Even a job that would probably pay a pittance of what I earn now. 

A lot of my co-workers have relocated to other spots. My boss moved to Vermont. One co-worker is staying in his mom's condo on the Eastern shore, because she can't Air BnB it and so he's paying rent to her to keep the place from going into foreclosure. Someone asked me if I would move to Astoria and work from there. I have been fantasy shopping for house rentals - nothing is available in my price range with 1.5 baths. Gotta have that second shitter, yo. 

It's a tempting prospect. I could work my job, and then do tours in the afternoon out there (long after East Coast Hours are over) or weekends. 

Huh. Hmmmm.... yeah. 

I've had a rough couple weeks. The first week back from vacation was alright. Last week was an epic shit-show and I made a terrible mistake of something, I avoided people who wanted to ask me questions, I found out one of my very favorite people in the "building" (we're not in the building, and who knows when we ever would be) gave his notice, and twice last week he postponed having a little time with me. 

It was an emotional week for sure, but not an "I'm going to quit my job because this is the most worst." 

Last night I had a dream where we are in a car, Doug is driving, and there are people in the car with us, and the car is driving on the water. So kind of like a boat. Jess was in the front seat, I was in the back, and the other people in the car were identified as new next door neighbors to a house we'd just moved into. 

I have no idea where we were going but they were talking very hatefully about homosexuality and trans people. I was calling them out on it, Doug was trying to keep the car steady, and Jess was incredibly uncomfortable. 

I woke up from that very angry that I couldn't get them to shut up and stop being so cruel. There's no reason for it - it's no skin off your rosy nose if someone's whatever they are. Just let them be. 

The vehicles on the water thing is very interesting to me. It seems to imply journeymaking, having a destination somewhere. The social aspect of being in a vessel with people outside of my family (and even Jess, who does not want to travel or have us come up to visit because we're in a pandemic and all that) means I probably am longing for people and company. 

But in one dream the people were all fantastic, and in the next they were horrid. It is a true fact, well known across the nations.

In another dream, no cars, no boats no water, we were moving into a new house. Strangely, the house was an old colonial, so it couldn't be an Oregon house. No such thing there, really. 

It was similar to the brown house we lost to bankofassholica years ago, but more modern. There was a giant hearth in the dining room, and the dining room bled into the living room - no walls separating them. So you could look from the dining table straight forward to the giant double windows in the livingroom. Doug was setting up a flat screen TV against the wall of the staircase going up to the second floor. 

I was setting the dining table for dinner, and walking back to the kitchen which was on the other side of the hearth. The hearth was central - you could walk to the left or right, and get to the kitchen either way. To the right was a nice wall of windows looking at the yard. On the left, if you went that way, there was a butler's pantry you'd have to walk through, with lots of storage and shelves and it made me think a little of the kitchens in places like the mansions of Newport, RI, only much smaller. 

The hearth had two openings, which was super cool, I've always liked that look. In the kitchen, the walls were all grey, white and black tile. There was a six burner gas stove, double-door fridge from Sub Zero, giant butchers block in the center, ample counter space. 

Jess' friends from high school came down a second set of stairs into the kitchen, Byron (Jess and Byron aren't really friends anymore since Byron dumped her best friend/his fiancé a while back) and Nick. They both did Shakespeare camp with Jess back in 2010. I like both of them (even if Byron flaked out on Molly, but ... she dodged a bullet there I think). They were doing a reenactment of some Monty Python sketches, and I was laughing pretty hard. 

The wall of windows by the hearth had a sliding glass door out to the garden, it was wide open. There were two dogs coming in and out - no screen to stop them. I didn't get a good look at them but they were happy.

We have to move in March, and I guess I'm also fantasizing about houses. And dogs. And again, people I have not seen in a long time, people I love and miss. 

My mind is doing interesting things and going interesting places without me. 

Oh, Technology...

I bought myself a new personal computer. I got an HP laptop, as I couldn't justify getting a Mac. 650.00 vs. 2100.00, it was a no brainer for me financially. 

Set the whole thing up and was super excited to download the pictures off my camera from not just my past vacation, but a couple trips we took to West Virginia and the Shenandoah valley. 

I said to myself "you should drag that folder into drop box..." but I figured I wanted to buy photoshop, install it the next day, and then work over the pictures... and then I'd upload everything to drop box. 

Windows updates needed to run, so I set them up and went to bed. It was late. So I just let it run and figured out I'd have a fun time in the morning.

The following morning, the PC was asleep, and would not come out of sleep mode no matter what I tried. Called support for the laptop, and they wanted me to ship it back for factory reset. 

But. 

I'll lose all my photos. I specifically took great photos of Aaron's boat for him, for his website and marketing materials. The tech and I discussed it and he told me to take it to Best Buy and see if they can get the photos off the hard drive. 

If they can, great. If they can't.... they're lost and gone forever. Either way. 

It has to go back. I'll get it replaced or reset. And fingers are crossed that my date with a Geek at Best Buy on Monday night will get good results. 

On top of everything with the personal computer, my work (Mac) keyboard decided it wanted to just start flinging extra letters out while I type like a monkey throws poop. It is a known issue, covered under our agreement with Apple, so it gets fixed. 

Me: Hey IT guy what do I do?
IT guy: go to apple, they'll ship it out and get it fixed. Do you have a computer that you can work on in the meantime?
Me [looking at my dead brand new laptop]: Well, not really. I'll tell you a funny story...

IT guy tried his best to walk me through getting it to wake up and ended up saying the same thing as the person who helped me from HP. 

So I didn't have a computer. Doug had bought us a computer last year for us to share, but since he's been working from home, that's the computer he uses. I was out of luck. 

IT guy hooked me up with a loaner and I went to pick it up yesterday. It was weird going back down to the office. The neighborhood was kind of a mess, lots of weeds, no one cleaning up the sidewalks. It was a ghost town, no dogs at the dog park, and just a feeling of drab abandonment. 

I miss the office. I love working at home, but seeing the building and knowing how many wonderful people I know who I haven't seen in forever, it bummed me out. 

Waiting for the Mac to come back hopefully next week. I'll return the PC right after I get used to using it, and then ship my HP laptop off for some love and care to get that back eventually. 

sigh. 

That's about it for an update. Nothing really important going on other than the possibility of losing all those photos. I'm happy I have the day off on Monday. Doug does not, but the weather is supposed to be awful, so I'm going to be happy to just hang out and maybe read. 

Washington to Washington to Washington

A Warning: Long and epic post to follow. 

So we did it. We went on vacation. I had my reservations about doing this, no pun intended. I was worried about being on a plane, being near other people, and bringing my East Coast body to a very stable West Coast county. I was worried about the baby. I was worried about entering their house. I think though, everything is alright. And we're alright. And they're alright. That's how I feel.

We flew out super early in the morning on Friday (September 18). Flying back in time is nice, and we landed at a time where we'd be relatively awake, alert, alive on the East Coast, so it worked well for the West. 

Doug had flown us into Seattle, even though it is over 3 hours from Aaron's. It was 200 dollars cheaper to fly there than to Portland. And we could enjoy a scenic drive. They were expecting us around dinner time, so we had time to burn. It was before noon, so let's explore. 

We drove kind of west and north and west, dancing over Puget Sound's bridges, and headed towards Harstine island where Doug saw signs for Jarrell Cove State Park. 

Doug followed the signs. 

We got out, took a stroll in the drizzle, enjoyed the beautiful green trees, the green water, the low tide. People thought we worked there and asked us questions. 

We must look the part? 

The island that the park is on has its fair share of beautiful views, and really fancy gated communities with soaring iron gates and barbed wires. I thought it weird to see how much high-tech and sharp protection these communities had put into place. 

I wondered what exactly they were protecting themselves from. What kind of predators. What is it like being this wealthy, this close to Seattle? [read more after the break]

West Coast Yes Please

Last night my husband talked to his mom, and she told us she didn't want us to come help her with the move to the condo, yet. She waved us off while telling us how much stuff there is to do. 

She closed in August. she's been measuring, looking at things, astonished that the furniture she wants which is hand made will take 6 weeks to build (Ohio Amish). Had she just, I don't know, taken a tape measure and measured the space back in oh, July, like I told her to, she'd have furniture being delivered now. 

She's complaining about how many things need to be done, but our willing hearts and hands I guess aren't the ones she wants right now. 

The first time she did this, Doug and I were frustrated with her, but we are over it. She's doing things at her pace. She has time to do it. She doesn't have to be out of her house for a closing or anything, so .... more power to her.  I don't like being at her beck and call. I think it is ridiculous for us to not come up there now, and do all the cleaning; to have Doug help with things in the yard at the original house. 

There is a lot that can be done. But whatever.

The issue is, her indecision messes up our planning. We canceled a trip up there in August, now we are canceling September. Doug is not even planning ahead for October. We can go up there alone for a weekend or some shit, when she is ready.

Doug just booked us flights to Seattle on a Friday morning, 

The plan pretty much is to rent an RV/Camper Van in Seattle and then make our way down to Vegas to arrive 8 days later, return the van, spend a night there, and fly home on the Monday following. 

His fantasy trip that I wrote about a couple weeks ago is now slightly different. I've never been to Seattle, we'll hopefully see Aaron and the new baby, and many friends and vistas along the way. 

We are going to have a blast and a half. 

I love vacation planning Doug. Even if we just go away for the weekend, I love him plotting and picking things to do and places to see. Basically we gotta go see the baby. After that, everything is whatever until we get to Vegas. 

My cousin and his wife live near Salem, OR. I would love to see them. We went to college in Ashland, OR so I'd kind of like to possibly visit there. I have a friend in Reno, NV and I'd really love to see him. 

Aside from that, show me mountains, big skies, and stars, and let's hope we don't have to drive around some big fires along the way. 

And wish me luck for when it is my turn to drive the camper van.

And that's why, your honor, I had to kill him

(There is a lot of me swearing in this post. If that kind of writing does not delight you, dear friend, move along).  

In my last entry I mentioned that I got mad at Doug and at my mom. 

I'll start with Doug. 

We got home from the vet and he did his flurry of de-Brodifying the living room. That didn't bother me. I fully understood the why. I even appreciated it. 

I got mad about the stuff getting put on the porch. 

We discussed his thoughts and my opinions. He said for now that's where it is all going. Dejected,  I took my sad ass to the bedroom and laid down, sheets over my body, fan on to drown out noise. Perchance to dream?

The day before all this happened, he had broken the blinds on his side of the bedroom. He had set them in the corner to fix later. Which I presume would be, based on previous experience with him, November. 

No. 

He picks right then. Literally right then, while I am attempting to hide from him and all manner of things. 

A piece had fallen off of the holder doohickey up in the window frame, so he had to find it. Which entailed moving his side table.

Oh, and he found it but now. Hmmmm. It's kind of a mess over here, isn't it? It hasn't been cleaned in a while. So let's pick now to clean it!

Now. Let's rummage around for tape for 20 minutes and then ask Chris (who is now playing with her phone because why not) where the good tape is. 

It is in the basement on the shelf in the laundry room where all the tools, glue, tape, things belong. Always look there first because if I find stuff like that all around the house, that's where it goes when I find it. 

He comes back with tape. 

Instead of taking the tape, the broken piece, and the blinds out into the back porch where I usually work, and getting out of my fucking space, he sits on the floor. Makes all the noise pulling the tape apart, futzing with the tape, making noise with the blinds, muttering under his breath. 

I got up and went to the guest room. 

The blind repair didn't go too well, but the blind is in place and cannot be pulled up or down, lest the same thing happens. 

He comes in to tell me that like I intend on going in and pulling the blinds up and down. I look like I want to fucking do that right now. Don't I?  

My sister and her husband fight a lot more than Doug and I ever do. So when I'm mad about something Doug is doing, has done, will do, might do, it is extremely rare. But my sister always will say in the midst of her fights with Ronnie, "And that's why, your honor, I had to kill him." Sometimes when they are in the midst of something I will yell that and they will both laugh. 

And that's why.... your honor.... 

He then tells me that we've gotten to the "Cloves and Tom Collins Mix" level of groceries, that he is going to the store. 

He went to Aldi, and did bring me back a monkey that is solar powered so it swings by its tail. 

I think that he just wanted to be with me and not be alone, but unfortunately I am a cranky baby and needed to be alone and thus got to murdery levels with him. And I don't recognize that is what he wanted. And I'm sorry that I was mad and didn't make space for his feelings and the manner in which he attempted to communicate them to me. 

While he was at the market, I called my mom to let her know we let Brodie go. 

"Good, it's about time." 

Oh okay. Thanks. "I'm sorry" would have been nice. 

"Oh, yeah I'm sorry. She was a good dog. How old was she?" 

14 and a half, I said with a sigh. 

"Good long life. You didn't tell me when it would be good to call Doug's phone to test if calls go through."

Backtrack to Wednesday, I was having some sort of problem with my phone, where folks calling me would get some recording after a couple of rings. They'd hang up, try again, the call would go through. No big deal.

I was having a problem making outgoing calls. Ring, disconnect. Ring, disconnect, Ring, success.  She calls my sister who texts me to let me know that mom is having a hard time reaching me. I call (have to call twice) and talk to her about whatever it was she wanted to talk about. She told me about what was happening and I told her maybe we can test with Doug's phone on Friday. 

I'm thinking to myself, oh Jesus. I do not fucking care about the phone right now. I do not give two shits if calls are going through, or if you have to rough it and make a second call. I JUST PUT MY DOG TO SLEEP FOR FUCKING FUCK'S SAKE I DO NOT WANT TO PLAY TECH SUPPORT RIGHT NOW! 

I didn't say that to her in quite those harsh of terms, but I did say that it wasn't a priority for me to test things right then, so we could try later. 

She called me on Saturday to let me know that after we'd gotten off the phone the night before, she immediately went to tell her neighbor Ernie that we put Brodie down. First, she tells people my business, so I literally don't tell her anything. But she knew about this for a month or so and kept asking me when we were going to put her down. 

"When we are ready," was my reply. "As long as she can pee and poop outside, as long as she is eating and drinking, and as long as she isn't in pain, then it isn't time." Time came on really fast. We went from Wednesday to Friday and the decision to do so was unanimous. 

"Ernie said you kept her alive too long, and you should have done this sooner, so he said good. It was about time." 

What I should have said was Fuck him, and fucking stay out of my decisions to do things. You weren't on this walk with her, either of you, so keep my name out of your mouths. And my dog's. And shut up. Forever. 

I don't have a "and that's why, your honor..." for my mom. It's annoying to not have been supported by my mom right now when I needed it. Friends and acquaintances on Facebook were unbelievably supportive and loving. I got over 600 posts with pictures of friends' pets (or ducks, or squirrels, or small children who are like small pets). 

It's all been exhausting.

Greetings from the Sad Couch

Hello readers, all three of you. It is Monday, Labor Day weekend. I knew my heart would be broken, and I'd be mopey and sad. So I've ruined everything for everyone on earth by just wanting to sit here on the couch or tidy things up and then getting mad because people are in my way.

That's an exaggeration. I haven't ruined everything for everyone but I certainly have been pathetic, and I know that is allowed. Folks don't have to tell me. This is the fifth dog-related heartbreak I've done. I'll be okay. 

But for right now.

I've burst into tears over dumb ass things (keep reading). And I've slept a lot. 

Friday was, obviously, hard. I cried throughout the evening and sat on my bed. I got mad at Doug and my mom, that's an entry of itself. 

I don't remember dinner. 

When we got home, Doug spent time tidying up all of the Brodie things, cleaned out her dog food bin (it was all 3 dogs' dog food bin at one point, we've had this rubbermaid container since the Brown House, so ... 13 years? )

He packaged up the leashes, washed and dried the dishes and bowls, ziplocked the cookies, cleaned the brushes, the nail clippers, the collars, the harness that she had been wearing for two months that really helped us help her. He packed up the dog bed, which I had washed just on Thursday after a rough night on Wednesday. 

I should have been thankful and appreciative. But I was a bitch about it all. Not about the swiftness that he went through cleaning everything up with, but... 

He put all of the items in the back porch. 

I didn't want them on the back porch, where I work all day, sitting there and looking at me. I also didn't want them on the back porch because things get a musty back there if you're not vigilant. I should know - I work back there every day.

I cried a lot and told him not to do that. 

I wanted to give away the fresh bag of dog food I bought 2 weeks ago (optimistic on my part), and the dog cookies. I wanted to throw her dog bed away but he wanted to keep it, saying "we might need it." No, I said. Another dog isn't going to want to sleep on her 3 year old flattened dog bed, I'd like to give a new dog its own fresh, lovely bed if a new dog comes to my house. 

"Well maybe we'll buy the same style and we can have covers to switch back and forth?" He is sometimes cheap and practical. So, I lost that battle. 

Geoff just moved all of the items into the basement for me so I don't have to look at them whille tryiinig to focus on work tomorrow. It is cool and dry down there, and we can just deal with things later on.  

I don't remember much from Saturday, either. It wasn't a lost day because I was drunk or anything - I just literally don't remember what I did. I remember Doug making burgers on the grill, and he asked me to make coleslaw. That's literally the only thing I remember fully from Saturday.

I think one thing I tried doing was cleaning in the living room. Doug decided to flop on the couch in the middle of everything where I wanted to put Guster on YoutubeTV and just clean and clean. Flopping in the living room to read turns into taking a nap. And so I knew I wasn't going to be able to do all the things I wanted to do at the volume I wanted to do it. 

Fuck it whatever I'll just go and lie down too. 

Yesterday, Geoff was aching to go out somewhere and use some of the pent up energy he has. Doug suggested we go to the Maryland side of the Great Falls, to Olmsted Island. He and I had gone there before, I think it was literally right before the pandemic. We had parked to the south at the Old Angler's Inn and walked up to the Visitors' Center and the overlook, about 3 miles each way. We came back in the dark and sat at the patio at OAI, had some overpriced (very) appetizers and two beers to congratulate ourselves on a 6 mile walk. 

Sure, okay. Yeah. Let's go back. We parked at the visitors' center instead of OAI because we didn't want a six mile round trip hike this time.

We got out of the car and I realized I didn't have my mask in my pants pocket. 

I had decided not to bring my purse, which is usually where the mask safely lives.  I had pulled the mask out, and thought it went into my pocket. 

It was nowhere in the car, and not on my person. 

I started crying, like fuck - the one thing I actually need and I don't have it. I looked around the very crowded parking lot and the very crowded trail and knew that I'd want a face covering. 

Doug offered to cut his bandana in half, he was being very kind and supportive and laughing like baby, it's okay. In his very Doug way.

It was not okay. I was not okay. I just started bawling.  This was not funny. I should just stay here at the car. You guys go. I suck. I am the worst. How can I let this happen when literally on the way out the door I shoulded to Geoff "do you have a mask or bandana?" 

We rummaged about in the car and found a pair of clean gym socks (I knew they were clean because they were balled the way I do them when I fold laundry) which Geoff must have left in the trunk at some point back when he was going to the gym regularly (March?). Doug found a long piece of rope (about 6 feet) that we use to tie the trunk closed sometimes if there's a need. He wrapped the rope behind my head and tied the sock to my face, laughing and smiling like "there you go babe! All set!" I tucked the length of the rope into my pocket and we went for our walk. 

I felt like a complete tool. 

Crap on a cracker, I've got a fucking sock tied to my face. Then, I realized how many people did not have face coverings on, were not practicing any kind of social distancing, and I started to get angry at them. 

I tied a gym sock to my face you shit heels and you can't wear a mask? The fuck is wrong with you all! 

I think my eyes may have told that story, especially to the asshole in the Baltimore Ravens disgusting purple ugly nylon golf shirt who walked past me without a mask on an snickered. Every other person in his family had one on, but not him, not ole Natty Boh Old Bay stink boy. Fuck you, ya motherfucker. 

As you can tell, your humble narrator was having a moment. 

The overlook was lovely, too crowded, we didn't spend long. I did volunteer to take a picture for a couple who were trying to selfie with their baby. 

The thing I do.

Doug and Geoff walked further down trail to the north end trailhead of Billy Goat Trail. Geoff said he'd like to take that sometime. I told him he needs to be prepared and in good shape, with plenty of water. 

Geoff seemed to really enjoy going here, which made me happy in the end, sock tied to my dumb stupid face and all. 

I kind of feel like we should drop him off there, and let him walk to Lock 7 near Glen Echo while we sit at the Irish Inn and wait. What's a 7 mile walk for him? He'd love it. It's flat. He can just go and go. 

He ran up a side trail into the woods just to see where it went while Doug and I were resting back at the visitor center. He came back with a smile on his face, said it reminded him so much of Boy Scouts and being out in the woods with the Troop. 

I didn't take pictures at the overlook or on the boardwalk there, which I did last time we went. The Great Falls trail to the island is really cool, and the overlook is neat. I did like seeing this lock boat sitting, ignored and neglected, it made me think of an old song by Brooks Williams called "Inland Sailor." 

Not exactly the ocean journey he sings of for this boat normally pulled by towpath mules, but seeing all the grass grown up about it, I couldn't help but take my mind there. 

Today I did some house cleaning, still working on the living room, which for months was basically Brodie's room. Vacuuming, dusting, moving around places where there was a dog bed, and other obstacles. Will tackle my coffee table and table where the mail lands, which has been neglected for a few months. Will sweep where I moved a bookshelf. May move into the dining room which Geoff has kind of claimed as his for school and homework.  For sure will load and run the dishwasher. 

Celebrating Labor Day like a boss.