Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


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Wednesday, May 04, 2005  

Capt. Jack will not be confined. There will be no mutinies while he’s on watch. He is the Captain around here, Big Champion, and that’s that.

BD had to go to the Dr. yesterday, sans mama, btw, and he put CJ in the doghouse/pen with new escape prevention bars across the top. When he got home, around the house dashed cutelittlenewbabypuppy, tail wagging, so glad to see Daddy. BD put him back in the pen to see just how he got out, but by then CJ had decided to flop. Last night he again put naughtylittlecritter in the pen but when I went out this morning to get him, (he did not serenade us at all in the night - I slept from 9 to 5:30!!) the pen was empty and - kata-thump kata-thump - look who’s playing in the Big Front Yard. Yep - Captain Jack does what he wants around here.

Thank god for Aunt Socks, then - who baby-sits him like the most tender of nursemaids. He comes in the house licked clean as a whistle, and she is ready for endless face chewings and mouth holdings. The cutest part of all is when she begins to utter these tender low growls while she plays with CJ. KA-THUMP. Down jumps Aunt Priss to break up the fun and insist that everybody follow her - back to wherever she was. The two aunts have never really settled on who was alpha in this pack-lett. IkeTheDog was the only BossDog they ever could agree upon and with him gone, the baton would be swapped off between them based on the outcome of secret dog rituals. Sometimes Aunt Socks would roll Aunt Priss on her back and other times Aunt Priss would steal food from Aunt Socks’ bowl. In the end, the Captain will take the helm; just not yet, while he’s still a cutelittlebabypuppy/rottenlittlebratnuisance.

At the moment, Aunt Priss is up in the BigBed while the play puppies are outside doing doggish stuff. Time to get serious about house breaking and also, it looks like rain is on the way but it hasn’t gotten here yet. Best not waste good outdoor playtime.

I’m coming to terms with my peri-homesickness, thanks to C yesterday and to some really bratty BD crap last night. (nothing like getting pissed off to chase away the blues) I was driving home in the evening twilight and up ahead was Mr.JustHadAHeartAttack striding purposefully (not a gentle stroll, you know) a good mile from home. It wasn’t the distance that made me blink, so much as the stride - fast, brisk, BD’s characteristic mile eating lope - and the getting-a-lot-heavier-than-10-lbs. dog in he was carrying. Now - I know the advice and paperwork and booklets and leaflets and pamphlets and print-outs with which the medical establishment bombards heart patients has to be generic - BUT - each and every one of them says "BE CAREFUL NOT TO DO TOO MUCH FOR 6 WEEKS!!!! BECAUSE.. you may feel well, but you aren’t. Your heart is swollen and stretched and just because you don’t feel pain or shortness of breath doesn’t mean you aren’t putting too much strain on it. And don’t lift anything over 10 lbs!"

Exactly the sort of information .999999999999999999999999999999999% of men will ignore and 100% of my man will even scoff at.

I picked him up - or rather I moved into the passenger seat and held CJ while he drove us the mile home and when I got there, there were chairs in the front yard. T had been by to visit. T is our oldest friend down here. T’s daughter graduates from college on Saturday. BD plans to drive to Harrisonburg to attend. (where is the shrieking smiley face when I need it?) Of course, since I plan to use the car to drive to MSW (at least, to Jen’s house) and be gone till at least Sunday night, he now decides to drive me to Jen’s and come pick me up on Sunday (Like hell he will) because he wants the car to go to Harrisonburg on Saturday.

Three 200+ mile round trips in 3 days. What an idiot.

Of course I can fight with him about this - thus ensuring I will head off to MSW in tears. I may still have to do that, too, onnacounta he’s a Haile and Hailes don’t really get sick. They are too smart to ever really get sick and it is doctors are who make you sick with their pills and chemicals and diets. Even Hailes who are doctors think this. But I did wring the most reluctant promise from him that before he actually did drive 700 miles in 3 days, he would call the cardiologist and ask if it was okay. Naively, I am calling it a promise. What he said was "We’ll see . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . what he says."

Okay - 2 weeks of good behavior. I would say - that’s twice the good behavior 33 years of togetherness should have lead me to expect.

I must dash off early today. We both have appointments this morning - lawyerly stuff and then of course, today is Wednesday - and we all know what that means.

No fiber news. No puppy photos. I got tied up with a new salesman from Recorded Books, a company I thoroughly love - and if you like books on tape do look at their Modern Scholar tapes - my goodness they are my all time favorite of anything in the audio format - so I never got to the 1-hour photo place. I will try to do better today.

posted by Bess | 7:14 AM