Oakley Goes to Day Care

     7 a.m. 7 a.m. Behavioral assessment at 7 a.m. 

     My sinuses beat steadily to that chant this morning. I had to have him at the day care center at 7 a.m. 

     2:30. 3:18. 4:45. Up at 5:30. Oakley banged his treat ball with his nose as I slammed down my coffee. Out of here with an ample time cushion in case of bad traffic by the two high schools passed en route. 

     Pulled up in front of the building. The owner met us, took the paperwork, his snack as he wagged his tail and laid at my feet. "What do I do now?" I asked when I handed over his leash.

     "Go home," she said with a smile. Calmly, he lead her through the door to the trainer's office.

      Home I went. A good, productive, if entirely too quiet day. Some rest for this cold, yes. The high traffic areas have been tidied. Energy work session went well. 

     4 p.m. 4 p.m...he'll be home to fill the void at 4 p.m.

      

 

Monday Night Thoughts

   Giving The Spouse his space to watch some shows that I don't care for.    
    Met my goal of applying for three writing jobs. Be interesting to see what shakes out. As I think about rewriting my resume, let's see...tractor pulls, dream interpretation, food....no porn. Yet.
     Tired. Oakley has a nasty ear infection. Located deep in the canal, it's making him crabby. Even the gentle ointment makes him whip his head around. I understand my mother better.
     Tired. Long walk this morning. Long day today.
      Oakley has school tomorrow and his day care debut on Wednesday.
      See you tomorrow, Gentle Readers.

Tuesday, 9/6

   Yes. It's Tuesday.  The first Tuesday of the month, so the small city I live near tests its sirens. Even though it's expected, I still jump until I remember that the day is just another Tuesday.
    Today's tests may set off an additional wave of paranoia. We're just days out from the tenth anniversary of 9/11. The media and government have relentlessly pounded on it since 9/12/01.
     We are in two unwinnable wars.
     We have caused countless deaths.
      Can we make it stop, please?

An Open Letter to the Forest Preserve People

Dear Forest Preserve People,

I really don't mind paying taxes to preserve nature. It created joy to see that my dollars had gone to upgrade the old scout camp into a lovely new campground with such great trails along the river.

However, yesterday, as I walked my dog at one of the older preserves--actually, the two conjoined by a network of trails--I noticed a sad lack of trail markers. Especially sad since the trails had to be rerouted due to erosion along the creek. I had walked our now deceased dog there numerous times several years ago to his joy, and wanted our new dog to have the same. What was planned as a two mile mom-and-pup hike turned into a five mile mommy--doggie death march in the 85-degree-plus heat coupled with the outrageous humidity.

As I said, I don't mind my taxes going to preserve nature. However, would it kill you to put up a few more directional signs? And maybe a few more trash cans at the ex-scout camp so that I can pitch dog poop in a timely manner?

Thank you,


Fran

Getting My Hair Back

    Half blond, half medium-dark brown, liberal sprinkling of grey. Too long roots. They stared back at me as I stared at them in the glare of the salon's overhead lights.
     The stylist began painting the color around my hairline. The blond had been something that I wanted to do some years ago, just to see what I'd look like. Not bad. Gratifying to have heads turn, but a pain in terms of upkeep. Every six weeks or look really trashy.
     When all was said and done, I looked like myself again. Not like some bombshell wanna-be. But back to the color that I knew from school pictures, perhaps a few stubborn greys sprinkled throughout.
     Process for 30 minutes, shampoo, cut, blow dry. Good look in the mirror. Youthful, as in full of life and vitality, but not desperately clinging to the fantasy of what I wanted to look like 20 or so years ago. Maybe punch up the lipstick color a bit. Perhaps tone down the red tones with a light dusting of powder. But not bad. Not bad at all.

So Much for That

   So I'll try again with the wheatfree experiment. Last Monday brought the moist, rich carrot cake in a pool of caramel sauce. Thursday, fried shrimp at the Chinese buffet.
    I didn't really notice a difference on the wheatless days. Perhaps I shall try again.

And Now for Something Completely Different

     As Oakley walked me at the forest preserve this morning, one of the workers called to me. "Hey! How's your day going?"

     "Pretty good so far. And you?"

     "Fantastic! By the way, you look fantastic, too!"

       I thanked him.  Always nice to start the day with a compliment, and even better that the weight started moving. 

       What's different? I'm experimenting with backing off on wheat and grains. Most of what's been lost is water. I'm still having a little bread or rice every few days, but mostly getting carbs from sweet or red potatoes, and some really yummy (but pricy) teff tortillas. I'm experimenting with gluten free recipes that involve almond and flax (made some pretty good muffins the other day). 

     So we continue. I snuck in a little baguette with dinner on Sunday. But no other wheaty delights since then. No adverse reactions occurred.

      However the research I've done indicates that there's a tie between gluten issues and thyroid problems. Some people have dramatic symptoms, such as severe cramping and diarrhea. Others (likely me included) retain water and just feel "off."

      Is this the key to helping me feel "on?" Could be. My sister crashed and burned with the wheat thing a few years ago. I will give it another week and see what happens.