So Pedestrian

While I was walking Frankie this morning, I told myself I would write something in my blog today. So, now that I've met that minimum requirement, the rest of this is just fluff. 

It has been a nice couple of weeks to be a pedestrian with the cooler fall temperatures. The nemesis at this time of the year is the shortening supply of daylight. I walk Franker every morning and three or four evenings a week. I barely get home by six o'clock and now I practically have to be on the pavement by then to be back home by dark. Frank has a light on his collar that I switch on for the last block. In another week or so, it will be the last two or three blocks, then it will be daylight savings time and it will be pitch black by 5:30 p.m. with no walk. As if I don't already feel like I spend most of my time getting ready to go to the office, driving to the office, being in the office, and driving home. The lack of daylight for the brief waking hours that I'm at home will make it seem as it that schedule is more brutal. 

We are still in mayhem overdrive with the new boss, especially when a big issue came up that was totally mishandled and caused a lot of trouble. It was not his fault; he took bad advice from some of our other leadership. So, who mops up after a fiasco other than the little people who had nothing to do with the bad decisions. Just one more reason that offices suck. 

A couple of weeks ago, I had a garage sale. I was thinking of doing one this fall anyway, then a real estate agent in our subdivision organized one such that about 15% of the homeowners participated, which was a big traffic draw. I had so much stuff, mostly odds and ends of home decor, leftover wedding decor, and small pieces of furniture that I upcycled. (Some might say "ruined.") My boss knows that I collect (some may say "hoard") the large brown bags with handles that often contain her lunch when it is delivered. She was handing me one such bag when I commented, "these will really be perfect for my garage sale." Within 30 seconds, she was on-board with the garage sale and was all excited about her stuff that I would sell after she brought it to me. There was a witness to how I never asked her to participate, donate, attend, or play any part in it. The witness agreed that I had not invited, suggested, offered, or played any part in her assumptive clump-on to my garage sale. So, there I was, the nice, head-scratching schmuck, ferrying shipments of her crap to my house to price and display with my own. What is wrong with my life? 

Because it was a mostly outdoor, open-air setting and I wore a mask as did nearly every customer, I was not worried about Covid-19 exposure. The weather was cool and mostly cloudy. We had a lot of traffic and did just over $500 in sales, which was pretty good considering that we didn't have large items to sell. If it wouldn't have started raining at about 11:30 a.m., we would have done at least another $100. All of the remaining items (let's just say it was a trailer load) were immediately taken to a charity thrift shop. About half of what was left was mine and the rest was my boss's. After Mr. Wryly's cut (although I made the big sale of his items), I split the proceeds with Boss. I tried to keep track of what was being sold, but there were times that it was just too busy. 

That evening, when I was good and wiped out from getting up at 5:00 a.m. and standing on cold concrete for six hours earlier that day, we had dinner with Dan, Carlene, her parents, and her aunt in an actual restaurant. It was only the second time I've been in a restaurant since February. It was good; the tables were more than socially distanced and we were in a nook of the room that seemed private. We celebrated Dan's birthday. Hard to believe I have a 27-year-old son who has been married for over a year. 

So, anyway, back to my pedestrian lifestyle. Not only has the fall season brought the cooler temperatures and beautiful leaf colors, it has brought out the Halloween and fall harvest decorating. We have some amazing displays in our subdivision. My favorite non-lit display includes a skeleton scarecrow playing a banjo for a group of ghosts gathered around skeleton flamingos. If you look closely enough, you can also see skeletons sitting in chairs inside the windows of the house. My favorite lit display includes giant spiders crawling on the outside walls of a white two-story, one side lit in purple and the front of the house in eerie green. Soon, the lit display will be all that I will see, driving to the office in the morning and driving home. Boo! Hoo! Hoo!

What are my thoughts?

That is the pc phrase used in the office so that someone can impose their "thoughts" on you and pretend that they want to hear yours.

Believe me, when it comes to responding to that question at the office, you wouldn't want to hear my real thoughts.

So, I haven't posted in a while and blogger is all different. My thoughts about that? You don't want to know that either. Just a note to say that Franker is a new dog. He didn't have any bad behaviors that a little electro-shock therapy and a dog trainer couldn't fix. He is earning his keep as a beloved pal and pet. Most surprising is that Mr. W. really likes him, too. I was not prepared for that, but it does make the home life a lot less stressful. I think they have bonded over being together all day during the week, except for the five hours on Tuesday and Thursday that Franker goes to doggie day care. Mr. W. does drop-off and pick-up. He says he likes getting out of the house for any reason. He is likely to be working at home at least through the end of the year and probably longer. He is so lucky!!

I have to drag myself to the office every day. Because of Covid, we have to enter through a particular door that is located under a covered walkway in a courtyard. It is totally like the entry to a prison. There is a check-in desk where we have to submit a form to document that we are not experiencing symptoms that day and to write down our temperature. The guard at the desk will take your temperature, but I take mine at home. If my temperature is high, then I'm not making the effort to go to the office to be sent home. Stupid!

Soon, it will be dark in the morning and dark at night when I drive there and back. Like having no life at all during the week. Oh woe is me.

My office is a zoo because we have a new ultimate boss to whom my boss reports. We had a big event to welcome him last week and it was so much work to put that together. Now we have to figure out how he wants the office to run; his new fiefdom is like three or four times the size of his last one. We are going to have to provide him a lot more details about appointments and meetings to help him learn the players and the issues. It is going to make everything a lot more complicated.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for now. I hope I can sleep tonight but I usually can't on Sunday nights. And I think that really sucks.

Frankenstein

It's been just over a month with Frankie. He is turning out to be quite a challenge. In the second last sentence of my previous post, I mentioned how Frankie was safe out on our deck, unless he started chewing the wooden rails......  Well, three rails down about 36 left to go.

He didn't chew completely through them as that would really be a feat, but he gnawed a nice dent into each one of them. This happened on Mr. W's watch one afternoon while I was at work, and Mr. W was not happy!!

I walk him every morning and most evenings around our subdivision. Mr. W has taken him a few times to the park where he (Mr. W) prefers to walk. While a few miles a day of exercise would be enough for many dogs, it is not enough for Frankie. He is a canine Olympic athlete and an escape artist.  He slipped his collar one night in our back yard and ran away so fast, I thought there was no way we'd ever see him again; he was just a flash of white disappearing into the woods. I did not know one of the neighbors who lives across the common ground from us also feeds the deer. Frankie put on the brakes for his trash can lid tray of cracked corn and stale French bread. I was able to capture him while he was stuffing his face with baguette slices.

From all of our subdivision walking, I have reconnected with neighbors that I haven't seen for years. When I used to walk my dear departed Shilo, we didn't get very far because of his heart condition. Frankie has more than enough energy to do every side street and cul-de-sac. There was one part of our main street that I have avoided for years because of a crazy family with a mom that I didn't want to get into a conversation with. No matter how benign it would start, it would end with  TMI and overwhelming drama. No thanks!

Coming across neighbors who live on that part of the street, I learned that Whacko Mom and her cast of characters moved almost two years ago! No longer did I have to shun her former cul-de-sac.

Because he is so slippery, Frankie has to wear a harness to walk. Getting him into it is like hog-tying a calf, and you can only imagine how many calves I have hog-tied in my lifetime. Once on the leash, he walks pretty well, except for when he sees a chipmunk, rabbit, or squirrel. Moose does not like squirrel!!! He goes utterly psycho when he sees one. When we walk under tree branches, he looks straight up, hoping to spot one while I pray that he doesn't.

When we encounter wildlife, it is hard to hold him back and so much hysterical barking! Not fun, except maybe for the creature that scampers away leaving a frustrated 45-lb. hound behind. When encountering other dogs, he usually does a lunge and a few barks, but not always. I am not exaggerating when I say that my right hand--around which I roll the leash--is always swollen.

As he is still working from home, Mr. W spends more time with Franker than I do. After I walk him (Frankie) and leave for the office, Mr. W says he crashes on the couch and generally sleeps most of the day, except for when he is chewing on the deck. At night, after our walk, he cools down and rests for a short time, then he converts into Frankenstein, the Monster Dog, to terrorize me, his toys, other objects in his path, and the house in general. It is quite a show of strength. and agility as it usually ends with me chasing him around the basement waving a threatening paint stirrer.

"Where's my stick?" is my warning when the flying around and aggressive barking (Frankie) keeps escalating. The stick doesn't exactly put an end to the bad behavior but it makes me feel better to give him a whack or two on the rear. If I can get that close to him.

Dish towels and potholders beware; they are on his hit list. Irish Spring soap from the new shower; my best tube of conditioner in the old shower; tissues and dental floss from my dressing room trash can; he has a route. Stuffed animal toys eviscerated throughout the house. He is so joyful while chewing them open and pulling the stuffing out. I found poor kitty's eyeball in the couch cushions. 

Mr. W took him to a nearby dog park twice. The first time, he was the only dog, so it was hard to tell how he would do with other dogs. The second time, there were two female dogs from the same family, one larger than Frankie and one smaller. The larger one, Mr. W said, was aggressive toward him, but he was not toward either of them.

I am grateful that he is interested in helping find a solution to settling Frankfort down by providing more exercise opportunities. Yesterday, Mr. W came home from his home improvement store, tool store, golf store, and Quick Trip route, and reported that he'd found another dog park in the area, bigger and better than the first one. Last evening we loaded the Frankster in the car and took him over there.

That was my first time at a dog park: a large fenced-in field with dogs and lots of miscellaneous stuff underfoot, such as grass, dust, "mud," shredded tennis balls, Frisbee flakes, bits of rope, etc. There was a field for dogs under 25 pounds and one for those over 25 pounds. In Frank's field, there were three dogs close to his size and one, his owner admitted, who was under 25 pounds but wanted to run with the big dogs. Franker got right into the fray and it was interesting watching him running.

"Wow, he runs fast!" I commented to Mr. W. 

"He's the fastest one out there," Mr. W concurred, as if we were proud parents.

The other dog parents were friendly. One, of course, was the dog park know-it-all. How it operates through the city, what the traffic is like, and so forth. Pointing to the farthest corner, she said, "The only bad thing is there is a big mud puddle out there and it smells so bad because it has poop in it.  My dog got in it last time and I had to take her to the creek to wash her off before I could take her home. The creek is that way," she pointed to a wooded area beyond the fence. 

For the 30 minutes Frankie and friends had run in circles, they had not gone near that corner of the dog park. They were panting and nosing each other out of the water bowls, then Frankie collapsed on his side in a pile of dust, with his tongue hanging so far out of his mouth it was nearly flat on the ground.

"Hah, hah, dust bath!" laughed dog park know-it-all. 

"I think we've had enough," I said to Mr. W. "Let's hook him up and go." I felt it had been a successful first-time, and we had avoided the mud 'n' poop puddle.

Mr. W was stunned. "We just got here. He'll revive and want to play some more."'

Actually, Mr. W had a captive audience and he wanted to talk some more.

I don't have to tell you where the revival led to, do I?

Less than five minutes later I was standing near the cesspool puddle trying to call Frankie out of it.  Another dog came to me and almost knocked me over, transferring a generous amount of slime to my pants. Frankie was a disgusting bio-hazard mess.

Shortly, we were hiking down the side of a muddy hill to wash him off in the creek. Then, of course, I had to administer a real bath when we got home. He wasn't overjoyed by it, but he tolerated it fine. (Frankie)

"This was preventable," I hissed to Mr. W.  "If we would have left when I asked."

I never thought I would say this, but we are going to give doggie day care a try. (It costs more per hour than I used to make for a whole night of babysitting kids when I was a teenager.)  If he can go a couple of times a week to wear himself out, that would be a big help for me to not come home from the miserable office to a wild dog. Also, Mr W has called for information from dog trainers in the area who can potentially train him and us.

I am surprised that Mr. W likes him and is willing to spend some money on the Frankie Project. He is a good dog; we just need to learn how to kill his spirit.

And there is no office for dogs to do that.

Frankly

So, my dogless days are over as I adopted a pooch last Wednesday. I had asked Carlene's mom--who is a volunteer dog-walker at the shelter in her county--to keep an eye out for a beagle or beagle mix for me, except not a puppy. Due to C-19, she is not currently working at the shelter, but she asked the paid staff to let her know of any beagle activity.

Last Tuesday I was swamped at the office when I received a text from her with attractive pictures:  beagle just surrendered by owner, about 40 pounds, long legs, and a year old. That was a few years younger than I was thinking, but with the dog shortage, I felt I had to consider changing that parameter for this prospect. His name is Frankie and he was so handsome in the pictures. I also received a photo of his "surrender report" that indicated the reason he was let go was due to another dog in the household that didn't like him.

Also, his former owner reported that he was housebroken which, if true, was a big plus

The shelter workers told Carlene's mom that he was very friendly. Between his looks and other desirable qualities, he would go fast!  Was I interested?  Call now!!

So, I called and told the director I would take him if they could hold him so that I could pick him up the next day. I realize that was probably more of a commitment than I should have made, but I had the last of my vacation days to take on Friday and today to give me a four-day stretch to hang with a new dog. The time was right.

Frankie is quite a comical dog. He has lengthy snow-white legs; they were calling him a "tall beagle" at the shelter. He likely has some beagle in him, but I think he has more foxhound in his DNA. He weighs 45 pounds, not 40, which pushed that parameter as well. I had said I would take him, so after spending some time with him at the shelter, I put a leash on it and packed him into the back seat of my car. He came with a box of worldly possessions:  an expensive "Kong" harness, a mega leash, dog dishes that look like they could have come from Pottery Barn, some toys, and a bottle of Burt's Bees oatmeal dog shampoo. He was an upscale dog accustomed to designer labels.

Carlene's mom came to meet him and see him drive off with me. I walked him on the lawn of the shelter for her to take some photos, and he took a big poop for us. That was a good thing to get behind us before a 45-minute drive in rush hour traffic.

I was worried that he would try to jump into the front seat with me, but he was very good in the car. I had brought a squeaky orange Lamb Chop (yes, who remembers Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop?) for him, which he played with throughout the drive. No problem. Mr. W couldn't come with me because it was his first night of summer league golf. (YAY!)  I was concerned that Mr. W would think that Frankie was a bad choice because of his size and age.

Actually, Mr. W likes him. He took the Frankster walking on a local trail one afternoon last week and he noticed that a lot more people said "hello" to him, mostly women, than normal. Frankie is a chick magnet!

Frankie truly is very housebroken. He goes to a door to let us know when he needs to go out. For a treat, he will sit, shake, and lay down. He takes the treat softly; all of which his previous owner obviously taught him. Now, we need to break him of jumping on people, counters, tables, and furniture. With his long legs, he can seriously launch his body onto numerous tall surfaces. He is so strong and enthusiastic, I think it's going to take a taser!

Also, he is still a puppy and wants to chew, chew, chew. Have to make sure that he can't get into trash cans, laundry, or shoes. Basically, keep the doors to the bedrooms closed. This will be an ongoing battle. Besides shredding poor Lamb Chop into pieces, he chewed the heel off Carlene's sandal when she and Dan came to visit Mr. W for Father's Day. When he is quiet, better look to see what he's doing! 

He loves our second story deck on which he can oversee the yard. He is safe out there and can't destroy anything (unless he starts chewing the wooden rails), so he will be overseeing the yard quite a bit in the future. That's my new dog, Frankie, 45 pounds of trouble!

Dog Shortage

I can't believe it's been more than a month since I last posted. Where have I been? Not doing anything productive, I can guarantee that. 

Our master bathroom remodel is finally finished. No more giant-footed workers tramping in and out of the house during the week days, showing up at 7:30 a.m. to start ruining the carpeting on the steps. That drove me crazy!  No way to put a drop cloth on the stairs, though, without creating a trip hazard.

The bathroom looks good. The decoratively tiled and expanded shower with partial glass enclosure,  a bench, a rain head, and a hand-held shower wand is a huge aesthetic upgrade over the previous utilitarian shower stall with the plastic sliding door that refused to stay on the track. The snow-white soaker tub with its gleaming decorative tile surround looks a lot more inviting than the faded fiberglass built-in jetted tub that it replaced. The sleeker, taller new toilet, is also good. And the new tile floor, as well.  All good. 

No baths have been taken in the new tub so far. I am a shower person. I took my first shower in the new, improved shower with five different types of coordinating tile and the modern fixtures. I knew that having a rain head would mean less water pressure compared to the skinny old basic shower head. Well, so much for the good old shower days when I could easily get my thick mop of hair completely wet, then completely rinse out the shampoo and conditioner. Gentle rain does not do that. I am not coordinated enough to work the wand and wash my hair at the same time, I kept the wand in the holder at approximate chest level and did my best to bend over to lather, rinse, condition, rinse.

The larger area also took longer to warm up. That will not be a problem during the summer months, but I think it's going to be noticeable during the fall and winter.

Finally, to keep the shower mold-free and prevent soap scum from accumulating, we are supposed to squeegee the glass and tile to remove the water film at the end of a shower. That takes longer than you think when you are contorting your wet, chilly, naked and vulnerable body to work the squeegee.

My conclusion is that this new bathroom is perfect.... for the next owners of this house. After we upgrade the vanity lights, get a new vanity top, and install new fixtures to match those in the shower and tub, it should have enough "wow" factor to attract them.

As far as I'm concerned, I will probably continue to shower in the hall bathroom. It has the basic compact shower head that provides the water pressure I need and prefer. Until we started using it while the master bath was out of commission, it had probably been used less than 100 times in 30 years.  Dan took tub baths when he was little, but when he started showering, he preferred the one in the master bathroom. So, it is like a new shower to me and no squeegeeing! 

Now that the bathroom is done, I can get a new dog. With previously mentioned workers in and out of the house, plus the wrinkle that Mr. W lacks the skill to close doors, I didn't want to go off to the office and worry that my new dog was escaping through the open doors.

Although Mr.W will be working at home for at least the rest of the summer and his presence will remain a hazard, I am ready for my new shelter dog. Except...... good luck finding one. The shelters are full of cats and pit bull mixes, but few family dogs are available. The main shelter system has been doing curbside adoptions and it has been very popular in these days of the pandemic. When folks have to stay at home, it is a good time to have a dog for companionship and entertainment. The demand for dogs has cleaned out the shelters and made the available stock of those being owner surrendered or imported from other areas very low.

When a dog becomes available, it is posted on their website (at random times throughout the day) and if you are interested and are the first caller, you can make an appointment to meet the dog.  A $50 deposit is required to secure the appointment. If the dog has other appointments already, you are put on a waiting list in case the appointments ahead of you do not adopt the dog.

I am looking for a 4-5 year-old dog, no more than 40 lbs. (preferably about 30 lbs.), that is a beagle mix. Of the five dogs I've had, the two that were mixes were the healthiest (least expensive) and the three pure-bred beagles (from shelters) had more issues and medical expenses. I just love the breed; they are so good-natured, loveable, and cute! 

I would consider another type of small to medium-size breed or mix, as long as it wasn't one that was very athletic and absolutely required a fenced yard for exercise, because we don't have a fenced yard. The new dog, like its predecessors, will be walked and will go out in the yard (supervised) on a tether. It will spend most of its time indoors being treated like a king or queen, when I am home. 

Anyway, I have been looking for over a week and still no new dog or prospects.  I did have an appointment with a shelter dog last week that was described as a "pointer mix" but she definitely had some pit bull in her and I had to pass. She is off the website now; I hope she attracted a good owner.

So, who would have predicted a dog shortage?  I'm happy that deserving dogs are getting homes (and I'm not going to think of how many of them will be dumped when families can resume their pre-pandemic busy lives), but I miss the old days when I could go to the shelter, find a good one, clip it to my leash, and walk out with it. Such a crazy year.

I long for the good ole pre-pandemic dog days of summer.... WOOF!

Day 14

Final day of self-quarantine and all is well. Looks like we dodged the bullet this time. The only bad news is that I have to work in the office tomorrow, and likely for the rest of the week. UHG!

About mid-way through, when the symptoms of the virus were most likely to appear, there was definitely some anxiety. Around that time, I got a call from the doctor on staff at the office. She asked questions and I asked questions. She said usually the first sign of infection is overwhelming fatigue coupled with a lack of appetite. I can attest that lack of appetite has not been experienced by me or Mr. W. Not for one moment!

Dan and Carlene would have come over yesterday to see me for Mother's Day, but I told them not to, just in case. I received handmade cards from each of them in the mail, both in the same envelope.  Dan drew a Corona beer bottle with a "Happy Mother's Day" label for the cover of his card, while Carlene chose flowers as her theme. If that isn't a representation of the stereotypical difference between a male and female, I don't know what is.

Inside his card, Dan wrote that he was sorry I didn't make it to the beach this year, but he was happy I was safe. And he signed it:  Love, Dan W. Wryly.

He has always signed his name like that on cards and it always makes me laugh.

Among words to wish me a happy Mother's Day, Carlene wrote: "Thank you for having such a wonderful son who treats me like a queen!"

It was a great gift to read that. Keep up the good work, Dan W. Wryly!  Make her laugh, too!

1,999 Pieces

I misreported the number of pieces in the large puzzle that I completed. While it was a 2,000 piecer, there was one piece missing. ARGHHH!  Don't ask how a puzzle that had not previously been assembled had a piece missing, but just know that Mr. W was involved.

In my continuing effort not to do anything productive, I went on-line and ordered two 1,000-piece puzzles for me and several large-piece "memory-care" puzzles to drop off at my mom's home. Like every other care center in the country, visitors are not allowed. My brothers and I have not seen her since the middle of March. One positive employee case of the virus was reported about two weeks ago, but there has not been another yet. Tick, tick, it's a time bomb.

Steph is afraid that she will not remember us when can see her again, and that very possibly will be the reality. What can we do about that? It is out of our control.

Her home emails a daily newsletter that lists their menu and activities for the day along with photos of residents. Yesterday, my mom and several members of her community made the cover. It looked like they were playing social-distance dominoes. She was also in a photo earlier in the week, working on a puzzle. Last week, someone from the home texted me a video clip of an employee dancing with my mom and she was actually smiling as if she were experiencing a few moments of fun. Who knew it would take a pandemic activity to coax a smile out of her?

Today is Day 5 of a suggested 14-day quarantine for me. One of my bosses may have the virus and I had minor exposure to him on Tuesday as it was my day for office coverage for my department. He wasn't feeling well when he came into the office, so I don't understand why he was there. His symptoms were headache and no appetite, but he had no respiratory symptoms (that he disclosed). He said he hadn't felt like eating for two days. DUH! If you don't feel well, stay home!

He felt worse on Wednesday morning, so he consulted one of our staff medical doctors  She told him to self-quarantine for 14 days, but that he didn't have enough symptoms for the almighty test. I contacted her about having brief exposure to him on Tuesday and she suggested self-Q for me. Thanks, (Dumb) Male Boss! Staff doctor said if I needed to go into the office, I could do so by wiping down my office (for myself) and wearing a mask and gloves outside of my office (to protect others). I was scheduled to be office coverage yesterday, but one of my co-workers did it, and I will reassess the situation this weekend. 

Yesterday, I checked with DMB and he said he was feeling better, whatever that means. A mask and gloves might not be enough to protect him from me next time I see him, provided I get that opportunity. Update: I just learned that our staff doctor got an appointment for him to be tested this morning and we should get the result next week.

At the office, we have been informed that, starting yesterday, we will all take one day off each half-month pay period to proportionately cut our pay by approximately 10%. I think that is more than fair. There are also furloughs and lay-offs coming. I don't think either of those things will happen to me, but my hours could be further reduced. Who knows? I cannot worry about everything at one time. First worries first. 

Finally, yesterday, our bathroom project budged its first inch since the last time I posted as it was on hold for a bogus building inspection. We learned that the paperwork that was submitted had to be shuffled around to four people in the county office, and each one of them held it on their desk for 48 hours before touching it because that is their virus protocol. Gee, you think those documents could have been scanned and sent electronically for more safety and efficiency?  Hell no, taxpayers love paying for the salaries and benefits of inefficient and antiquated government employees. We wouldn't have it any other way! 

Anyway, the long-awaited inspector showed up yesterday. He walked up the stairs to the bathroom and spent less than three minutes inspecting the holes in the floor and walls to issue the permission to proceed with the work. I had no contact with him and I have not touched anything in that bathroom for weeks. 

This means my New Dog is probably at least a month away, and I am getting antsy. All of this time at home that I could be teaching a dog the ropes around here! That's what a lot of people are doing during this stay-at-home period:  introducing a pet to their household. Our largest animal shelter system is actually out of dogs! They have been conducting curbside adoptions and apparently very successfully. An available dog shows up on their internet site and it's gone by the next morning. Someone drives up and sweeps it away!

Unfortunately, on the other paw, with the economy in a such a plummet, there will be owners who cannot afford to keep their pets and will eventually surrender them. How sad is that? Pets can be such comforts and loneliness preventers at all times, and especially during stressful times. Yes, there are expenses associated with having one, but a healthy companion pet costs a lot less than therapy.

I sure do miss my little Sweetie-Pie; he would have loved having me at home so much to hang with him, or so I would like to believe. 

While the largest shelter system has no dogs at this time, there is another shelter that is overloaded with needy canines. They rescue strays in urban areas and there is never a shortage of those animals. Many are large dogs with pit bull DNA that are physically and emotionally mangled from their former lives of scraping by on the streets. They are a harder sell to potential adoptive owners.

Of course, that would be the type of dog I want this time. Not a large pit bull mix because I don't have the strength to handle a dog like that, but maybe a smaller one. Mainly, an older dog that has had a hard life and has been waiting a long time to go home and be loved.

Mr. W doesn't understand why I don't want a puppy. I adore puppies, but I don't want one. I would rather have an older, more settled dog. Our first dog was a puppy when we adopted him, so I've had the experience of raising one. Two of our subsequent dogs were each about 18 months old when adopted, including the most recent one, so they still had a lot of puppy in them. (Both had been abused so I've had experience overcoming that issue.) The other two dogs were each about four years old. That was a good age. Not so crazy energetic and not so much chewing, except one of them had a penchant for swallowing socks.....

We don't a have fenced-in yard, so that means I'll be walking New Dog and training him/her to go outside on a tether. So he/she can't be a dog that needs to do a lot of outdoor running. More like a couch potato dog that enjoys walks and can adapt to being limited in the yard. We have a completely enclosed small deck on our main level that New Dog could also hang out on for some outdoor time.

Finally, finally, Dan and Carlene are doing fine. Dan is no longer taking care of Covid patients. The good news is that our health care system is not particularly overloaded with Covid patients, but due to anticipating that situation coupled with the consequences of the contagiousness of the virus, the census in the children's hospital is very low. That has led to cut-backs in staffing. 

As Dan bluntly explained, "Mom, kids are not in school going to gym class or playing sports and getting injured. And they're not getting other illnesses from each other. So we don't have enough patients. That's why we have to get our hours cut."  Each of them lost a shift this past week, taking them from three 12-hour shifts to two. 

Thankfully, they live frugally and should not have financial issues. If I wasn't happy enough that they got married last year, I am even happier about it now. For one, their year of wedding planning did not result in a cancellation like so many engaged couples are currently facing. At the time, we didn't know how fortunate they were to be able to spend nearly $30k to have the day they wanted, Wryly says dryly.

Mostly, though, I am happy they are living through this unprecedented time together and can rely on each other. One year ago, Dan was living in an apartment with two other single guys. Because it is all about me, just think how worried I would be about him if that was his living situation now. In lieu of that, he is living with the love of his life, and she with hers, and they are on track for an extremely memorable first year. 

To think my biggest "problem" last year at this time was finding Dress A. What a forehead-smacker. I didn't know how good I had it. 

So, that is the update here. Mr. W is on the patio whacking golf balls into a giant net with a target that flaps around. Earlier this morning, we had some lovely birds landing in our trees but the golf-whacking scares them away. About a month ago, I spotted a pair of bluebirds (not jays) that seemed to be scoping out the tree nearest our kitchen window for a nest. "Forget it," Mrs. Bluebird chirped to the Mr. "This location is too noisy. And look at the nut down there, swinging that stick."

I saw them this morning in a tree in the common ground, so maybe they will settle in that area. Also seeing a lot of cardinals in those trees. They are so beautiful, but also a reminder of no baseball. Don't get me started.

Always something....  My new puzzles are scheduled to be delivered today.  My spring of living unproductively continues.

Easter Q

So it is Easter Sunday unlike any other in our lifetime. I attended Mass via the internet in my jammies. No worries about what to wear to church was the big advantage.

It's been two weeks of working from home along with Mr. W, although I have gone into the office a couple of times each week. There are some things I can't do from home, like get a break from Mr. W! Starting this week and for the rest of the month, there's a schedule by which I will take turns with my two co-workers to provide a few hours of office coverage for our boss each day. 

I believe the risk of exposure at the office is low because the building is fairly empty and my end of the floor where my office is located is nearly deserted. I wash my hands until they are raw and then coat them with an anti-bacterial wipe to touch stuff. The cleaning service still comes and are supposedly focusing on the public areas. 

There is just not enough to do to keep me busy with office work for 40 hours a week at this time, whether I'm at home or at the office. One large event and one large project that I coordinate at this time of the year have been cancelled, along with numerous smaller events and meetings. One of my current assignments is keeping the list of cancellations up-to-date.

I do feel somewhat guilty that I'll be collecting a paycheck for not working full-boat, but the same situation exists for my co-workers and my boss, so what can I do about it? I have to believe that we are going to be facing a lay-off and/or a furlough in the month of May as I don't see how our revenue source--that depends on gathering and donations--is going to be sufficient to keep all of our home office employees on the payroll.   

So far, with extra idle time spent at home, I have managed to do only two productive things. One is that I painted the tiny linen closet in our master bathroom and two is that I painted the doorframes and the two doors in the master bathroom. This effort was to get these jobs done ahead of the new tile floor that will be laid in the near future. I could splatter and drip as much paint on the ugly wood sub-floor as I wanted. 

Although it does expose our house to extra people, we decided to move forward with the bathroom remodel as scheduled. Mr. W removed the original toilet and demolished the shower a couple of weeks ago. What a mess! The tile guy came for a couple of days last week to frame out some areas, and the plumber did some plumbing on Thursday for which he had a permit. However, it was learned that a building permit is also required for our 50 square feet of remodel, which was not previously required of our contractor for jobs of similar size. Screech! Now the job is on hold until that is settled.

On the unproductive side, I have completed a 500-piece and a 2,000-piece puzzle! Did I do puzzles before this coronavirus crisis?  NO!

Have I cleaned out any closets (except for the one I had to paint)? NO!

Have I reorganized the kitchen cabinets? NO!  Drawers of clothing in the bedrooms?  NO!

Have I made any masks on my Grandma's old sewing machine? NO!

Have I organized my personal files; recorded my e-accounts and passwords in one place; and/or thrown away outdated paperwork? NO!

Have I cooked hearty meals for me and Mr. W? NO!

Have I baked even one batch of cookies to put in the freezer? NO!

I've done a lot of bad TV, snacking, and two puzzles that I found in a cabinet that I was planning to clean out. I am worthless!

Dan is working with COVID patients. He is not afraid or worried that he'll get the virus, but I am. He verifies that there is a shortage of PPE equipment at his hospital; he wears the same mask all week. How many pieces does a puzzle need to have to take my mind off THAT?

He is working with COVID patients because he is in the float pool and that's where they are needed at this time. Carlene works with cardiac critical care kids only, so she does not have direct COVID patient contact. 

Dan says he doesn't see how things can go back to "normal" after this initial wave of infections because the virus will continue to strike until there is effective prevention. It could be a long time before we can safely gather. And, if the shortage of medical equipment is a problem, just think of what it will take to produce enough preventative medicine or vaccine for the whole world.

Dan and Carlene prepared a big Easter dinner for themselves today and they dressed up as if they were going out to visit for the holiday. I am so happy they have each other. They are a beacon of light to me in this terrible situation.

So.... six feet apart; wash your hands; don't touch your face. Not even to wipe away the tears.
    

The Boogie Virus

After coming home from the office on Friday afternoon, I have not left the house all weekend. Except for the weirdness of not going to Mass, it wasn't all that different from many other cold weather weekends in the past few months.

As I habitually work to get errands done during the week to avoid crowded places on the weekend, I am very easily contained. But there is also a weirdness in knowing that going out could expose me to the virus and that could be very bad, even deadly. The boogie virus is out there.

The news coverage is a whole other virus. It is horrifying to hear the statistics and see the scenes in Italy, plus to comprehend the potential of our hot spots turning into that. Scary, scary, scary, but it has to be to get people on board with social distancing and staying home. Those college spring-breakers swamping the beaches in Florida were not watching the news to become informed about all this, plus the lack of medical protection supplies and equipment to save lives. Thankfully, they had a highly intelligent spokesman who told the country that he didn't give a shit about the virus or anyone else because he was there to PARTY!

A charming fellow who provided such a proud moment for his parents.

Dan and Carlene are doing fine, according to Dan. At the children's hospital, they are not seeing the cases that the adult hospital is handling, but they are exposed to patients and parents that could be infected. For my comfort, Dan has a little too much of the cavalier attitude of Spring Break Dude: that their age group does not make them vulnerable. All I can do is worry and hope they are taking every precaution.

When I left the office on Friday, the plan was for me to work in the office tomorrow, although if I felt strongly about it, I could work from home because I am over 60. Yes, I could play the senior citizen age card!  Many other coworkers (of all ages) had already started working remotely as of last Friday, making the population in the building sparse. My boss's preference was for me or the other support person to work in the office if possible, so I was going to take the first turn tomorrow. Today, Bossie emailed us to say we should work at home as our metro area is under a stay at home order. 

In that case, I have to go into the office tomorrow to pick up stuff I should have brought home on Friday. Mr. W is also working at home starting tomorrow and he is sitting across from me in the office being annoying right now. Who will survive?

I miss my little doggie so much. Coming home to a quiet house without a happy dog dance and a wagging tail is the worst. If it wasn't for this damn virus, I would have gone out this weekend to the animal shelter to be adopted by a new one. But, I didn't want to risk getting infected.

We were going to Florida for a week's vacation in the middle of April, but we canceled the condo and, very fortunately, received a full refund. With Mr. W's underlying conditions, we could not fly as planned (two year credit with SW) and I was against driving because what if we got down there and one or both of us got infected?  Also, I am against Mr. W's driving in general, which I have not kept a secret.

I was waiting to get a new dog until after vacation, but now that we are not going, I am holding off until this virus hopefully spares us and all of our family and friends. Everyone I  know, please stay healthy by doing all the stuff the CDC recommends, including staying at home as much as possible! Even if you have to be around annoying family members!  It could save your life and a lot of grief.

Don't let the boogie virus get you!!

Soup's Gone!

What in the heck is going on?  I feel like I'm hanging around waiting for the apocalypse. At least my hands will be clean.

I got the call a few hours ago that my mom's home is on lock-down. No visitors, likely for at least a month.  Oh well, she says we don't visit her anyway, which is not true.

I went to Walfart yesterday at about 11:00 a.m. and it was crowded, but there were still spaces on the lot so it could have been worse. The devastation among the grocery aisles was weird to see. In addition to the lack of hand sanitizer, disinfectant products and toilet paper, the soup aisle and the freezer section of pizzas were ravaged.

Soup?  It didn't even occur to me to buy that.  If I'm going to be quarantined for a month and possibly face the grim reaper should I contract the virus, then I want ice cream!  It was shocking to see that the ice cream section was fairly intact. What are people thinking?

I didn't have to wait for a self-checkout spot. While I was scanning, an old geezer--I would say about my age--violated my social distance to nod toward other scanners and jokingly comment, "I guess these people have never cleaned before."  He was referring to the numerous cleaning products stuffed in carts along with soup and frozen pizzas. 

There has been talk at my office about working from home. There are some things I can do from home because I can access my files and Outlook, but there are other things I can't, like wait hand-and-foot on Bossie. Don't get me started. My impending retirement is in jeopardy with the stock market being in shreds. Should have invested in hand sanitizer and soup. Who knew?

UHG, UHG, UHG.  Thank you, Wuhan, China. This all really sucks.

What is this going to look like in a week?  What is going to happen? 

Dogless

Last week was a sad one as we sent my beloved beagle over the rainbow bridge. With both Cushing's disease and heart failure, he functioned pretty well until the final two weeks when his appetite waned and he was not always keeping down what he did eat. On his last day, he sniffed and turned down a piece of bacon, if that gives an idea of how he was feeling.

It was so hard because he still had tail wags for me and wanted to be petted. For approximately the past six months, as I observed how his failing heart was taking a toll on his breathing, I spent a lot more time petting, hugging and talking to him. He had several spots throughout the house where he would "pose" and wait for me to notice him. I would get down on the floor (no easy feat for my old bones these days) and give him the worship he deserved. Even though I know it wasn't easy for him, he still faithfully followed me up and down the two flights of stairs in our house.

He was a loyal little trooper and I didn't want him to hang on for me when he was not feeling well. His vet, Dr. Andrea, cried along with me when she administered the chemicals that relaxed him and halted his trusty heart. Mr. W also shed a few tears. 

It was the right thing to do, but I miss him terribly. He was my baby; my sweetie-pie; my stinker-winker. It is the first time in 33 years that I don't have a dog to joyfully greet me after a long day at the office. Apparently, I'm addicted to unconditional love.

We are going on a vacation next month and after that, I'm going to adopt another new best buddy. I want an older, mixed breed, small to medium-sized dog. I'm sure when the time comes, there will be many to choose from, which is a heartbreak in itself.  So many great dogs, not enough homes.....

A week before putting my sweetie-pie down, our favorite newlyweds hit a bump in their happy married life: Carlene's car was stolen from where it was parked in front of their rented house. It was cold morning and she started it to warm it up, then she left it unlocked as she went back in the house to brush her teeth. When she came back out, she saw a guy jumping into it and he drove off, followed by the vehicle that he arrived in, driven by his accomplice. 

UHGG!!! Her car, her key ring that included keys to the house, and her purse drove off, likely never to be seen again. What a mess! At least her phone was not in the car. Most thankfully, she was not near the car at that moment to be physically hurt.

The local police predicted that the car will not be recovered. Dan and Carlene had their house locks changed immediately and spent part of the day cancelling credit and bank cards. No fun. The price of creating an opportunity for a criminal to do his business. 

It was a bad week followed by a sad week. I hope there are better days ahead this week.

Renovating My Brain for the Master Bath Remodel

First of all, I didn't make my blog post goal for two weeks ago because Dan and Carlene came over on Sunday for dinner and I was busy all day preparing for that plus getting the kitchen work started for another work week. That involves cooking some things in advance, making lunches, chopping salad fixings, etc. So that was my excuse to myself.

It was great to see D and C. They seem to be happily figuring out how to be married. It brings me great joy to hear how they take care of each other as they work their long hospital shifts and balance their coursework, with Carlene's being more difficult and time-consuming. Dan, however, uses some of his days off to make some extra money by teaching CPR classes all over the city. So they are both busy and their spare time is scarce. When they can spend a few hours with Mr. W and me, it truly is a treat.

Last weekend, Valentine's Day was also their five month anniversary. So hard to believe the wedding was that long ago! At this time last year, it seemed a long way off. 

I didn't make my blog post goal for last weekend either, and it was a three-day weekend due to having Presidents' Day off.  No excuses; I'm just a lazy slug. Next three-day weekend is Easter; nothing but miserable five-day work weeks until then. Today, the countdown is 312 days until potential retirement.....

Mr. W and I had an appointment at a plumbing supplies showroom on the holiday to pick out fixtures for our master bathroom. Slowly, painfully, we are putting the pieces together for this project. We have a contractor who was recommended by the tile store and he is the one who recommended this plumbing showroom. When we finally schedule the job, the contractor says it will take at least a month. That sounds just crazy to me because we are only talking about improving approximately 60 square feet of space. Apparently, this is the most expensive and labor-intensive square footage in the house. 

In this process I've come to believe that something is wrong with me because I don't understand how the master bathroom in a house is so important to people who are not me. I do not see it as a spa, a haven, a retreat, or anything particularly warm and fuzzy. It's a bathroom!!  Metal fixtures, cold tile, and a cold porcelain toilet. It's the room where I have to shower in order to go out into the cold, cruel world of the office. It's the room where I have to scrub and disinfect the fixtures and porcelain every week. It is not a retreat to me; it is a work chamber!

Further, I don't understand why people who are not me want huge shower spaces. How much room does one need to take a shower?  It is a bathroom, not a water park.

Nonetheless, I'm coming to accept that an updated master bath will make a difference when we are ready to sell this house in a few years. So, bring on the new fixtures, cold tile and porcelain stuff.  We're creating a haven......

Super Ground Hog Day

Yes, it is Super Bowl Sunday and I enjoy watching a good football game and, even more, the Dog and Puppy Bowls. Also, I like Ground Hog Day because there are no cards, gifts or special foods involved. Even better this year because it's on the weekend.

It was a long week at the office and there's another one coming up. A co-worker is on vacation so I will be doing her job as well as mine. Nothing new about that. She has five weeks of vacation, plus takes numerous sick days. When our bosses are not in the office for some reason, she also disappears for several hours on those days (shopping or day-dating as she is recently divorced). And, when she is there, her priority is her cell phone.

Always inspiring to work with someone who plays the system! Another reason I will not miss working in an office.

BFF reports that retirement is so great. I can only imagine. One month down, eleven to go. That sounds better than 333 days.....

Mr. Sandman Hates Me

Another weekend nearly over. Feels like I just left the office.

With the holiday last Monday, it was only a four-day workweek but it got off to a bad start when I couldn't fall asleep Monday night, which was like a Sunday night. I have been terrible at Sunday night sleep for my whole life! I can remember laying in the lower bunk bed in a room I shared with my three brothers when I was a kid, wide awake on Sunday nights.

It sucked then and it really sucks now. The older I get, the harder it is to function in sleep-deprived zombie mode. I have to double- and triple-check everything I do at work, and sometimes I still miss mistakes I've made.

One morning last week, I made a pot of coffee in the common kitchen on my floor. While it was brewing, I left my X university mom mug on the counter near the coffee machine and went back to my cell, I mean "office." About five minutes later, I returned for the pour, but my mug wasn't there. Hmmm.... Thinking someone else had it, I conducted a search of nearby offices, but no luck. Baffled, I returned to my cell to find it on my desk, filled with coffee, which was even more baffling.

Did I fill that mug with coffee and not remember? Was I that tired and forgetful? Sometimes I do everyday things on autopilot that I can't remember doing (like checking that the garage door is closed when I drive away in the morning), but this would have a been a new level of unconsciousness.

My next-cell-neighbor stopped at my door to ask a question. I answered foggily and he went back to his cell.

I tasted the coffee. It did not have the pink-packaged fake sugar in it. If I had poured that cup of joe, it would have been sweetened. This was a clue! Then, my neighbor returned and confessed: he put the coffee on my desk. To be nice. A man being "nice," who would have thought of that? But, when he realized it had confused me, he didn't say anything at first.

Thanks for gaslighting me, Neighbor, even if you didn't intend to do it.

It was a big relief! I nearly had myself convinced that I would be moving in with my mom in the near future. Now, one last thing, did I close the garage door that morning? 

Yesterday, I attended a lovely baby shower for a dear friend's daughter. Daughter looked great and I'm so happy she is becoming a mother, which in turn will make dear friend a grandmother. Of our small circle of first-job friends, she will be the first to obtain this status and she will rock it!

I look forward to being a grandmother, but I know it is not in Dan's and Carlene's plan for several years, as Carlene wants to complete her nurse practitioner schooling first. Carlene's mom is ready and hoping that a bundle of joy arrives sooner. As I would like to be retired before Baby Dan or Danielle is born, I admit that I am not ready.

340 days to go. That's 340 pots of coffee in zombie world.

Post Traumatic Dress Syndrome

The other day, I received a text from Carlene's mom. She joked that she is experiencing post traumatic stress syndrome because she is flashing back to this time last year when she was searching for a dress to wear to Dan's and Carlene's wedding. Oddly, I had been thinking about that myself as I spent a lot of time scouring the websites of major retailers looking for The Dress while I pedaled my recumbent bike and watched bad TV. That's how I found Dress B which is still hanging around, unworn.

It is hard to believe that Dan and Carlene have been married for over four months already! I commented to Carlene's mom that when I remind my mom that Dan does not have a girlfriend anymore because he has a wife, it is surreal.

The newlyweds seem to be doing well. As they generally work opposite shifts--days for her and nights for him--they often go several days a week without seeing each other. That could contribute to a happier marriage!

For five seemingly endless days last week, I looked forward to the three-day weekend that just flew by. Mr. W and I kept our appointment with the tile salesman on Saturday and selected an array of tile for our master bathroom. The next step is getting a bid from a tile installer from a list obtained from the tile salesman. He said they are all booked at least a month ahead with jobs, so it might take a while just to get an estimate.

Yesterday, I went through a couple of closets and packed three large bags with clothes that I had to be real about not wearing anymore. I went through some clothing that Dan left and packed another bag, but saved a few sentimental items--some baseball jerseys and a monogrammed jacket. Also, I packed two boxes of books and one box of miscellaneous stuff. Went out into the cold this afternoon to drop this shipment at the SVdP thrift shop in our area.

I have plenty of clothes left, but nothing to wear! After lounging around in sweats all weekend, I will experience post traumatic have-to-get-dressed syndrome tomorrow.......

On the Fence About Tile

Another week down and a new one begun. Profound.

Our master bathroom is in remodel suspension. Mr. W wanted it to be nearly complete by now, a DYI project for him, but I have failed to select the tile which has snowballed into other indecisions. What is known for certain is that an updated shower space is needed and an ugly old jetted tub was not needed. Mr. W did the demo on the tub and cut it into pieces using a very noisy saw. So, that area is down to a plywood floor and cement board on the wall. Very rustic.

The shower is still intact and he is anxious to demo it. He thought he had watched enough how-to- videos on how to install tile, however, Steph was consulted because he recently had his master bath remodeled. Steph suggested that an experienced tile installer would be worth the cost, because a DIY tile job generally looks like a DIY tile job. So, Mr. W is networking to find a genuine tile installer, not one with an on-line degree.

Then, there is me stuck in an indecisive funk. Mr. W says it is my responsibility to pick the tile. He is very aggravated that I haven't made any progress. There is a tile superstore in our area and I have wandered through it three times. I have the tile dust on my coat to prove it. So many choices! I have brought some samples home, but nothing seems right. Don't want to spend a fortune on the premise that we are not going to live here beyond a few more years. However, want to have something that we can enjoy--if that is the right word--and a look that will be attractive to potential buyers when the for-sale time comes.

We went to a different tile superstore yesterday and worked with a salesman who seemed know a thing or two about tile. We have an official appointment with him on Saturday, so another day of shopping for tile to enjoy, which is definitely not the right word...

BFF's last day on payroll was January 7th. She said, "everyone calls and says how great you are on your last day---I'm like 'hey, thanks for waiting 34 years to say something nice.'"

Very profound. She's in Florida now, sipping a giant margarita, not giving those former co-workers another thought. Freedom is great, she reports.

I hope to have the option to experience freedom someday. But first, the big tile decision and at least 354 more days of being under-appreciated. Baby steps.

Congrats BFF!

Just checking in to keep my New Years' resolution alive.

My BFF's last day of employment is Tuesday!! She has had an excellent career working for a utility company that is known for buying out its aging employees. She turned down several offers in the past, however, a tempting one was presented a couple of months ago and she said "yes." She was planning for retirement next year so this is one precious year of freedom sooner. I am happy for her in spite of my envy. Someone I know is escaping the tyranny of the office grind!!  There's hope!!

Run and don't look back!!!! That is my advice. Other than that, two full five-day weeks before the next holiday, MLK Day, and 361 more days until my potential retirement. Give me strength...

2020 - For Real?

Why it seems like it was just a few years ago we were celebrating that all the worlds' computers didn't crash when the New Year was 2000. How could 20 years have passed since Y2K?  Doesn't seem possible.

My only 2020 New Years' resolution, so far, is to start blogging again. Many excuses why I barely wrote for the past year, and particularly for the most recent six months. Tired all the time. Elderly dog waking me up in the wee hours every morning to go outside. Weekends go so fast... I feel like I walk out the office door on Friday afternoon and five minutes later, I'm walking back in on Monday morning. I'm chained to a computer for a long five days at work, plus I keep up with office emails and text messages on my phone all days and hours, so I haven't wanted to do anything extra that is digital. So very tired...... 

I will confess that I took a personal leave of absence from the food pantry in mid-August and I haven't been back yet. I need those couple of hours on Saturday morning to sleep.

Today, I undecorated the Christmas tree (several hundred ornaments that seem to multiply asexually in storage) and the house (not much). Mr. W took the tree down and I just finished vacuuming and putting the family room back the way it was before everything was shoved over to accommodate a seven-by-five fake tree in one corner.

I've been off work since Christmas Eve and not looking forward to going back tomorrow. The eight days off went fast. At least there are only two more days until the weekend. 

Christmas was OK; Dan and Carlene are doing great; my mom is doing about the same; and my dog's heart is failing so our time together will be coming to an end soon. He is not suffering yet, according to our vet, but when he starts to suffer, I will be sending him over the rainbow bridge. Boo-hoo!

Finally, it is not definite, but Mr. W says that it is very likely that I will be able to retire at the end of this year. I can't even wrap my brain around how joyful I will feel not to have to drag myself back into the office after the Christmas holidays in 365 days. Of course, it would have to be a leap year, so after counting today, I still have 365 left!

Happy 2020! This is one year that I hope flies by.