martinimade

Over the long weekend, we went on an outing to the Berkshires. 

Balls were thrown around and hit.

Beverages were consumed.

As was a patriotic jello mold made by the Diva and her grandmother.

Also, romping.

(I swear there is a dog in there.)

Then, on the way back, exhaustion set in.

As it does.

(Just a note: we're going to the Allegheny College Reunion Weekend this, um, weekend. I'll be signing books on Saturday at the Campus Center from 1-3, if you should like to have one signed. I hope to escape the weekend without having to wear the dang Gator costume again. But if the money is right...)

(Also: please don't rob my house. Thanks.)

I love this prompt so much that I'm just going to steal it, with one additon -- you can't be digging the hole for a body.

Go.

* Parenting at Bedtime is Whack-a-Mole.

* This sounds about right. It does get easier, tho.

* On depression and stay-at-home moms.

* This is brilliant.

* Now that I have this list, I need never leave the house again.

* You might find something you want here, in addition to something from me. (Personally, I'm all about Charlie Daniels' fiddle....)

* I hate 'em, too, Jennifer Ouellette.

* And I thought *I* was the only one the Obama campaign was stalking. Hrumph.

From the local almost daily, on getting a dog.

"Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson, stolen from today's Writer's Almanac

Given that I am now a woman of a certain age, I find that trips to the eye doctor are much less fun. Yesterday, after said doctor made a snarky but kind* comment that my current wonky vision has less to do with my contact lenses and more to do with my occupation and advancing age, I left with a prescription that is doing its best to balance said issues and my remarkably astigmatic right eyeball. The result isn't ideal. I mean, I can see, mostly, but can't find a way to work at the computer with my contacts in without constantly moving my head up and down in order to find just the right spot where everything is clear. 

Feh, I say. 

I might just have to switch over to glasses all the time until my vision gets worse, at which point I'll just do the contacts and reading glasses thing. Or not. Arg,

Rather than stew in my irritation, I gave up and went for a walk in the woods with Lucy.

She was pondering the meaning of life when I said her name, thereby destroying her concentration. Now we will never know.

Corgis aren't really water dogs but this particular one seems determined to fling herself into any available stream, puddle or damp leaf pile. 

The phlox are in bloom. The dog is short.

While she's perky here, currently she is sacked out under my desk. I appear to have broken her ...

* I like the guy. Really.

I don't have a great exercise for today, mostly because I've spent it running around greater Oneonta dealing with various appointments for various mammals both big and small. But I do have a small story to tell you.

As I mentioned last week, the kids' school will be closing in June. Still heartbroken but we are Making Do. The Featureless Saint was talking to the Boy a couple of nights ago about it. The conversation went someting like this:

Boy: Is Center Street closing?

FS: Yes. [long pause] You'll still have to go to school, you know. Just a different one.

Boy: Maybe Hogwarts? 

Scene.

And, no, the Boy won't be going to Hogwarts. He's not 11 yet.

* Thorgi!

* Cow shoes.

* You are someone's Tim Gunn.

* For the graduates.

* Pictures of people running.

* There is no journalist alive who hasn't thought of doing this.

* Word.

* I am both attracted and repelled by bioart.

There has been knitting going on:

This is another LaLa's Simple Shawl out of handspun. Once I get my teeth into a pattern, I can't seem to stop chewing. Also, I needed something that required little thought.

Speaking of teeth, 

The monkey has seen better days.

Ah, puppies. Ah, the chewing. No monkey (or shoe or table leg or tile floor) is safe.

Goodbye, monkey. You were enjoyed while you lasted.

"Progress is not an illusion, it happens, but it is slow and invariably disappointing."

-- George Orwell