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.

And this is goodbye

Today we took Brodie on her last car ride, to the vet. For. 

You know. 

This picture is from last night - Doug and I have been taking turns sleeping on the couch. Last night was horrible for her. And for me. 

She just cried and cried. And so did I.

The past couple of months, I've shared her story. 

It is a story of decline. In June, she was able to jump up on the couch and look out the window, sit with me while I did tech support. 

In past days, not being able to lift her head or stand up at all. Peeing while on her bed, distressed about it (because she knows you are not supposed to pee inside). Unable to eat, but hungry. So thirsty, but only able to sit up for a little while and lick the water. 

Last night I was holding her and a bowl of water, and she threw her anvil head around, spilling the water everywhere. All over me, the rug, her bed, herself. Everywhere. Such a small amount of water, but she managed to send it to all points within reach. 

I admit, this was about the most frustrated I got with her. I let her slip out of my lap, onto her wet bed and I went in the bathroom to cry.

It was time. 

Doug was of the mindset that she was going to pass soon. And he wanted for her to do that here, at home, with us. The way our county works, if you bring your dog to the vet, you can't go in. They come out to meet you, take your pet inside. Your pet gets shots, checkup, whatever. 

I had called the vet to ask about this and if we could be inside with her and they said no. They gave me the names and numbers of two companies that do in-home visits, but this afternoon it was clear. Doug and I decided we just wanted to go to their office. 

We had Geoff say goodbye before he left for work. Part of me thought we could go one more day to get to Saturday, and call one of the at-home companies. but. 

It was time. 

Not being allowed to go inside with your pet, it is hardly a fair set up, but "due to these uncertain times..." it is the rule of the county. 

I feel I cannot be too mad. 

I have a friend who was forbidden to be at her papa's side as he died in a Boston hospital a few months ago. He did not have Covid - he died of brain cancer. But the fact that she was not allowed to be with him in his hospice situation, that they took his phone away so she could not call and do evening prayers with him, I know.

 I know. I had a place I could turn my loved one over to, with confidence and no fear.

There are people with people who have suffered amazing indignities and loneliness in the past few months. Things that outweigh and out matter. 

I know.

We told her we were going for a ride. 

Doug picked her up and I brought her dog bed to the car. We settled in. She seemed unconcerned. It wasn't for quite a bit before she noticed we were in the car, and lifted her head. 

Going for a ride was always a top 5 favorite thing for her. But she was oblivious to what we were doing for the first ten minutes until she noticed... car! She sat up, looking around. Excited.

I told Doug to roll the windows down, and I held her up and showed her outside. It gave me so much joy to see her interested in what was happening.

She sniffed a lot, and hard. I couldn't quite scoot over to stick her head out the window, but this girl always did love a car ride. 

At the vet, they met us in the parking lot. Part of me wanted to take a picture of the beautiful vet tech just holding her in his arms with confidence, and the look on her face of being ... unbothered. I kissed her. I told her she was amazing and brave. The girl told me she would be right there, and that Brodie would know she was cared for, and loved. I believed her.

While I felt confident handing Brodie over to my vet's office and their beautiful and capable staff it fucking sucked whole ass and I'm shook to the core that for the first time since 1994, I have no dog.

I have no dog.

To me, this is unreal. 

We started with Missy with a trade for a cat, and while we had Missy we obtained Kinger. Missy had to be put to sleep, and then Kinger was alone. so the kids begged for a friend for him, so we got Jack. Kinger was hit by a car,  and then Jack was alone. The kids felt Jack now needed a friend so we got Brodie. Aaron and Michelle separated, and we ended up with Gonzo.

So at that point, we had three dogs at once. And today, today we have none. 

It is so weird. 

I want to write a lot about her. I feel like Jack was always the best dog I ever had, and Gonzo was the smartest, but Brodie, I want to tell her story and remember her always as the sweetest thing.

I may need a little time. 

A lot of time.

Pictured here - me and Brodie,  June 2006. Right after we got her. I still have that T-shirt. 

A Trip to Richmond

Doug and I decided to go away for the weekend. 

We both took vacation days today, we both needed some time, we both needed to not work, and we both needed to ignore work and do something fun. 

We had planned on going away Saturday through today but the forecast for Saturday was a washout, and we decided to just go on Sunday and come back today. And I didn't want to leave poor Geoff in charge of poor Brodie for the better part of three days. So one overnight would be alright.

We decided to go down to Richmond, VA. 

Doug had gone there while he was doing a contract job after getting laid off from his first job here in the DC area. He said Richmond was cool. We had planned on going there a few other times, but he got laid off, we needed to save money, Brodie got sick, and then pandemic. So this was a long time coming.

Like going to West Virginia, Virginia has some laid back rules about travel. Maryland/DC/Virginia are all like one big state, travelling from our house to the Eastern Shore or down the Charlottesville area, or out to Frostburg, we have a big area where travel is allowed without having to do quarantine upon arrival.  

Just wear a mask, and be a good human.

Upon arrival in Richmond the first thing we did was head to the American Civil War Museum. 

We walked around the riverfront area where Browns Island is, and thought about going out on the walk to the other side of the James River, but it was hot and as you can tell by that picture very beautifully sunny. 

Neither of us were prepared for full-on hot sun (me for hydration, DWG for sunburn and a hat). So we poked around a bit, noted that there are kayaks for rent and hell if that wouldn't have been a good thing to do with a dry bag and sunscreen. 

Next visit for sure! 

The museum was really great. A wonderful walk through year by year, campaign by campaign, with side trips of what Juneteenth, field medicine,  and what being a POW was all about. From McClellan getting replaced to Sherman's march to the sea, and all the way to Appomattox and the terms of surrender, it was a multimedia experience with wonderful displays. Not too much, not too long, not too overwhelming, very aware of the Black experiences, as well as the Union and Confederate experiences. 

Walking out I felt like... Jesus what a fucking waste and a mess and how the holy hell does this happen. And are we up against it again? We spent a good amount of time there, feeling feelings and having thoughts of course influenced by what's happening in our world today. 

"Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground. Mother Earth will swallow you. Lay your body down."

After the museum we did some more walking around the riverfront, but it was still too early to check into the hotel. We drove around and found Poe's Pub down at the Libby Hill Park area. We were ready for some food and water, and beer. Our waitress was delightful. They had Austin Powers on TV. We soaked in the relaxation, and had the best fried oysters we've ever had. Not just because we were hungry. It was a really nice break.

By the time we finished up there, it was check-in time to the hotel. Doug had found us a nice hotel room at  The Berkeley Hotel, in the Shockoe/Capitol district area of the city. We went up, parked, had a nap and headed back out for on-foot exploration. Walking out of the hotel, we headed down to the Canal Walk, and South 14th street, looked at the river, watched kayakers and talked to a fisherman on the bridge. 

I pointed out he had something on the line, he said "that's okay, I'm mostly just out here to enjoy the weather."

Can't blame you, friend. 

We walked around the Main Street Station area, looking for an interesting bar or foodrinkery but nothing grabbed us. So we  headed up Main back towards our hotel. I was feeling kind of beat, ready for some water and a rest. So many places were closed, permanently and because it was Sunday. We were going to go to one place to watch hockey and have late snack and drinks but ... no hockey on the TV. Only Baseball. So we bailed. Fuck that shit, baseball. Pfth. 

We ended up at City Dog which was right on the block as our hotel. Enjoyed water, some beers, hot dogs, the Islanders vs. Flyers, and some great Emo music on the loudspeakers. Wild. Lovely and attentive staff, good conversation with the other patrons about hockey and Paul Giamatti in the VW commercial he's in lately. 

This morning we got up pretty much on time, knowing that we had parked on the street where it was 2 hour parking from 8am to 6pm. Doug figured we had to move the car by 10am to be legal for that 8am to 10am 2 hour period. 

He met the traffic enforcement officer who was literally sitting outside the hotel door, smoking a butt and playing with his phone. Doug said something about being just on time and the guy said he wasn't in a hurry to start working, that the car could stay there until noon.

"Seriously? You're okay with that?" Doug asked.

"Which car is yours? Where you headed?" he asked. Doug said that we were still getting cleaned up, check out was noon, and that we were probably going to grab breakfast next door. 

"Okay yeah, you got my word,  man. You're all set until noon. You do your thing." 

We were all dressed and ready to head out of the area for adventure but knowing we had time, we were happy to take our time, and just walk out and go to Sam Miller's next door to the hotel for breakfast. A place I would rather do dinner at (they weren't open Sunday night) from the looks of the menu and the establishment, but we had tiny but wonderful breakfast sandwiches and another tremendously lovely waitress. 

I didn't get her name but we talked a lot about "getting away," which she knew we were doing. "Where you from?" she asked. I guess they do a big tourist business so she was happy to have customers, and we looked touristy. We told her where we were from and how we just wanted to get away, that we were bored of the couch and living room. 

She said she totally understood, and last month she took herself to Portland, Oregon because her plane ticket was under $150 round trip so she couldn't pass it up. She went from Portland to Bend, and up to the coast to Cannon Beach. She was impressed with our Oregon knowledge, so thank you semester in Oregon in 1988 and Aaron in Astoria. 

We told her about Aaron and asked if she went to Astoria but she didn't make it there. We told her to be sure if she's ever there again to find him. We recommend.

She had a big tattoo on her right arm that said "This too shall pass" which made me smile. I asked her if she knew about OK Go and their wonderful song and two different videos (Rube Goldberg and Marching Band) for the song of the same name. I wrote it down for her and she said she'd for sure check it out. 

She told me that she would have hugged me if it weren't for Covid-19, and how she just shouldn't. I told her I considered that a hug. It was a really lovely time. 

We headed over to the Poe Museum, which Doug had checked into, and Trip Advisor listed that it was open on Mondays. But. It was not. We couldn't walk around the grounds and just look at the property, everything was chained up.

This image is from one of the signs out front, the windows were all boarded up, protected, probably due to the recent riots in Richmond. 

There were so many lovely pieces painted on the signs, but this one really struck me. 

I loved it. I felt it. I needed it. 

The entire area around the Poe Museum was messed up, so many broken windows. A rather depressed area in the first place but my heart was broken for all of the businesses and first floor apartments that had suffered the wrath of the city. 

Because the museum was closed, we decided to go over to the Hollywood Cemetery. 

When Doug was in Richmond last, he came here to walk. Similar to Boston's Mount Auburn Cemetery, it is a garden and tree-rich property with wonderful wandering roads through all the sections. 

There is an enormous CSA (Confederate States of America) soldiers' section with a huge pyramid to their memory. There is a good map, and a beautiful area called the Presidents' Circle where Presidents Tyler and Monroe are buried. Somewhere on the property, not sure where, Jefferson Davis is also buried. I saw information on how "three presidents" were buried here. Not sure I count Jefferson Davis as a president but some documentation does. 

The view of the James River is outstanding, and we sheltered under some trees as a small passing shower visited upon us there. 

The Iron Dog is a feature, guarding the grave of a small girl who died in 1862 but I don't know much more of the history of the dog or the girl. I decided that when I die I want a good dog statue by my grave, protecting me.

After we left the cemetery, we decided to drive over to the Robert E. Lee monument, which is kind of a mess right now, as an understatement of what it is. A focal point for protests in the past several years, I cannot believe it is still standing where it is. 

I'm not a fan of anything "Confederate" in this the year of our lord 2020. It all needs to be taken down. No one will forget who Robert E. Lee is if this statue isn't there. History does not disappear, is not erased, does not vanish. 

But people who have been subjugated and victimized by what other people think is a reminder of "their heritage" every day, there's no need for it. 

I would write a lot more eloquently about my thinking here but I just can't right now. 

It is just time to let it all go and if letting it go means taking these statues down, putting them into museums or storage or whatever, and getting them out of the faces of people who for hundreds of years feel this is a big "fuck you" to them - let's just do that.

When we moved here, I told Doug I was not comfortable moving into a town where Robert E. Lee road/highway/street/avenue or Jefferson Davis road/highway/street/avenue were the main drags. I am barely comfortable living here in the south. I for sure didn't want to live somewhere that I'd have to give someone directions to my house that included "turn left on Jefferson Davis and then merge onto Lee Highway." 

No. 

And standing here today in front of this, the graffitti speaks to years of pain and anger, all arching back to this man, that war, those days, the days before him, and the years since. 

He's no hero. Not to me. I don't feel bad for him for the choices he made with his career in the US Army and how he had to make the horrible choice to leave and come back to Virginia to join the Confederacy to fight for his state. 

He had the chance. He could have said no. But he did not.

I spent a great deal of time thinking about how horribly broken our country was, what it went through, what we're now going through, and how horribly broken we still are. And are things better or no. No.

Richmond, it's a nice city with some serious beauty and wonderful people, but overall, the South is not for me. The longer I'm here, the more I am convinced. 

All that said, I loved my weekend away. I loved not working today. I am dreading actually working tomorrow. but it is what it is. I'm happy to have a job and for the next 4 days will do the hell out of it. 

Augusting

 

It's hard being Brodie, but, Brodie is still being. 

Days go by and I'm still amazed that she's with us and hasn't started exhibiting full signs of shut-down. 

She is hungry. Very hungry. But won't eat her own dog food most of the time. We cook her some people food, she always gets a little ground beef and we put grease on her kibble to make it more appealing but I find she just ignores it. 

She loves to (as seen here) shove her face into plastic containers like yogurt, peanut butter, or sour cream. And she loves salty nuts so I give her almonds when I have snack. 

I made myself breakfast today and she dragged herself over to me with a look of absolute desperation on her face. I said to Doug that it is ridiculous how hungry she is, but won't eat her own food. 

I took her dish down from the box it has been sitting on (we put the food and water up on boxes so she didn't have to bend over and fall face first into them). I took out a scoop of dog food that had bacon grease on it and she wolfed it out of my hands while laying on her side. 

Ah. Standing to eat is part of the problem. I see. 

I scooped out some more and she ate. Doug went and got me a tablespoon, and I fed her from the spoon until half the dish was gone. She ate like she hadn't eaten for days, and truth is, pretty much, she hadn't. 

She drank some water too and then went over to her dog bed and just passed out. That was probably the most taxing thing she could have done. 

Thinking now that our daily routine is going to be spoon feeding the dog. I never thought I'd be spoon feeding my dog. But here we are. 

For the rest of the year, my company is having us stay home and work from away. It's honestly the biggest gift I could have right now, to sit on the floor and spoon feed her. And I'll gladly do it until she just doesn't want to eat anymore. 

Nothing else is going on. Well, lots is but I'm not going to blog about it. I don't write about work. 

Guster is doing 2 shows at a drive in up in New Hampshire today, and I didn't go because I don't feel it is safe to travel out of state.  I'm looking at the pictures in the fan group on facebook, and I miss the band, I miss everyone. I miss live music. So I think I'm just going to put the computer away for the afternoon and not look at the barrage of updates coming from the fans. 

Rabbit, Rabbit

UPDATE: The baby arrived at 10:19pm last night so he is our little bunny for real. Welcome, Howard. Yes. Howard. Don't give him shit.

It is now August. 

I've been pretty happy with how often I am updating, and while there is literally nothing going on, thought I should usher in the month with the well wishing utterance of Rabbit, Rabbit. Allegedly it brings good luck to the family if that's the first thing you say on the first morning of the month. 

This morning, however, that is not what I said. My cel phone rang at 8:15am, as I'm on call for work, so my first utterance was "what the fresh hell is happening, so help me the CMS better not be down, sonofabitch." 

Sorry, Rabbits.

I spent about 2 hours working on the problem with one of my dev team members, and she saved the day. I literally knew I needed divine intervention on this particular one. We have an outsourced dev team, but a lot of times I have to explain things over and over and over - and they say "well we don't know if we want to do that.... perhaps we can load the site into a staging server and run a test..."

no, son. No you don't. Like seriously - I know exactly what you need to do and here's what it is, so please just do it and it doesn't have to be a whole big thing. 

I noticed she was live on slack and could not believe my luck. Reached out to her directly and she understood exactly what I was asking for her to do, and she did it. She was part of our Boston team, now she lives in Vermont, but she's literally the only person I can turn to who will know this legacy code. 

Thank God. Thank you, God. 

Finished the tech support emergency thanks to my amazing colleague and 3 cups of coffee. Then, I made chicken salad, set up some marinade for other chicken for tomorrow, answered helpdesk tickets that were left untouched since I took a half day off yesterday and Josh can only do so much with doing his job and backing me up. 

So my 4 hours off from yesterday, declared personal time, wiped away by this morning's shenanigans. 

That's okay. I'll figure out a way to make up for that.

While I got an early start for the day, Doug slept until 11. I thought about waking him up until I checked the forecast. It said we were supposed to get some serious thunderstorms in the afternoon, and I didn't want for us to be out somewhere and get stuck out in it.  

So I let him sleep. 

He never sleeps in so he obviously needed or wanted it. He's always the early riser, and my nature is to sleep until about 10am if I'm not disturbed. Sometimes that disappoints him, but I have told him he should just come in and wake me up if he wants to do something.

My best friend Aaron and his wife (from the wedding 6 years ago for people who are long term readers, all two of you) are having a baby right now. 

She went into the hospital on Thursday but was having contractions at home all day Wednesday. The doctor had her wait to come in until things were closer. 

They are still there. 

Things are very slowly progressing, and my heart is patiently waiting for updates over here. 

Earlier today, they'd given her an epidural, she was only 6 cm dilated, and in a great deal of pain. 

 

I asked him how he was holding up (since everyone ever asks about the mom I thought I'd ask my boy how he was, being his best man and all back then). 

"I'm holding up. slept on a vinyl couch for 2 nights, almost passed out from when they put in the epidural, but right now I'm rock solid."

This was good to hear. Gotta be rock solid right now. It'll be a long day or so, but. It'll be soon.

He texted me later in the day and said "Her cervix is stout." 

I've never heard that term for a cervix. What does that mean?

So I offered, "perhaps the doctor is just describing her cervix in terms of Pacific Northwest heartiness, or her Norwegian heritage... a stout cervix." 

We went back and forth about her cervix and I finally said "oh my God please do not tell her I'm making fun of her cervix." 

It is funny when someone is going through something you've went through, and you have feelings and advice. My labor with Jess was not progressing until they gave me a shot of a narcotic which helped me calm down, and then within a half hour (after 12 hours of nothing) I was able to get to the start pushing part. 

My hope is that they'll all be all set for August 1st for a birthday. I texted him last night when he updated me that August 1 is a great day to be born. 

So here's to our little rabbit rabbit. May they arrive soon. They're 3 hours behind us so there is plenty of time for this to still happen today. Perhaps they will be our sweet new little Rabbit Rabbit. 

Hoping for an update soon. 

And hey, if not ... August 2nd is a great day to be born too.