Life Wins Again

In the eternal battle for control, that is. I keep laboring under the mistaken impression that I have some sort of influence over what happens to me. Things would be easier if I could just accept the randomness of chance and stop trying to get anything to work out in accordance with my plans. What is that saying? "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."

Much has been happening here, little of it what I wanted/planned for/expected. The "volunteer" job I've been working full time since November (and which I had come to love) has come to an end. It is not being replaced by a paid job, for reasons over which I have no control. I am of two minds about this. I am very disappointed, because I loved the job and I was good at it, and I am sort of relieved, because with all the other stuff that's been happening, I'm not sure how it would have worked out had I not unexpectedly found myself back at home. I've spent much of the past couple of weeks scraping the accumulated filth of the past eight months off the various surfaces in my house, becoming reacquainted with my kitchen, and trying to locate the 700 pairs of missing white socks that must be around here somewhere.

Kozmo, the dog from the last post, is staying permanently (quell shock). Unfortunately, he seems to have some sort of lingering respiratory infection that we just cannot get rid of. After four courses of two different antibiotics, we're pretty sure it's not bacterial. After a chest x-ray, it doesn't seem to be anything serious, like pneumonia or lung cancer. And yet the amount of doggy snot is truly amazing. We're working on the assumption it is viral, but he's had it for at least a month, it doesn't seem to be improving, and the other dogs haven't gotten it. Weird.

Sophie (our Newfoundland) is facing a far worse health problem. She has cancer. There is a large tumor in her mouth which is growing by the day. After consulting three vets, we have determined the only treatment is to remove half her lower jaw, which might or might not cure her. After long consideration, we have opted not to do this and are planning to keep her as comfortable as possible for as long as possible and then let her go. We are only expecting to have a couple of weeks with her. After losing Sam suddenly in May, we are at least happy to have some warning this time.

The kids are more or less back to school, to my great relief. Between doctor visits, shopping, instrument repairs, arranging for transportation, and registration for school and all the various and sundry ancillary activities, I have been moving at a quick trot for the past couple of weeks, my ATM card is smoking, and I've run out of checks. I'd love to know how they can call it a "free" public education.

And our 15th wedding anniversary is fast approaching. We have plans for celebrating it that are supposed to take us out of town--alone--for a few days. Alas, the plans were made BEFORE we knew that the kids' schedules would create something of a perfect storm on the exact days we are planning to be gone. We are currently in negotiations to determine whether we can still manage to get away.

So there you have it. My life in a nutshell. There has been knitting, too, but since my camera cable has gone missing and every member of my family insists they have never used it, touched it, or even seen it, you will have to take my word for that.

Once More Into the Abyss

How long did you think it would be before another dog came to stay?

This is Kosmo. He came today. He's a Shepherd-Husky mix (we think). Young, male, docile. He gets along fine with Sophie and Heidi, and he loves to cuddle with my boys. He ended up in a local shelter as a stray and was pulled by a rescue group after he was put on the "euthansia list". For three months, he's been boarding in kennels because the rescue could not find a foster home for him. So now he's staying with us while he waits (cough, cough) for his permanent home.

My boys keep asking me how long I'm going to pretend that we're just fostering him.

All Is Well

Thank you to all those who have emailed or left messages.

All is well.

I am just super busy.

More soon!

Ouch

Today was sort of a perfect storm at work.

You know how you have days were stuff just goes wrong? And then there are days when people are mean to you? And sometimes you have days where you mess up? Have you ever had all those days at once?

I have.

Today.

It sucked.

I came home and realized, in telling the KH about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, there wasn't one moment all day when I wasn't suffering.

That's a bad day.

So I had a big glass of wine and hugged my family. Family is good. They have to love you, even on the bad days. Wine is good, too. Can you tell?

I guess some days are just like that...even in Australia.

Goodbye, Sam

Those of you who have been visiting this blog for a while probably remember this day. It was the day Sam came to stay with us as a temporary foster dog.

Rapidly followed by this day, when he became a permanent part of our family.

And he quickly became a beloved member of the pack.

He was never the healthiest dog. He came to us with a crushed pelvis and mostly missing teeth, but he never seemed to notice. He was perfectly happy to hop around on three legs and gum his rawhides, and his tail may have wagged in a wacky circle, but he never stopped wagging it.

He was the dog everyone wanted on a sick day, or a sad day, or a sleepy day.

We always figured he'd make a great therapy dog, because just being around him made everyone feel better.

Even people who don't like dogs, liked Sam.

But the past few weeks, he'd been a little...off. And then something happened to his tongue that required surgery. We were never quite sure what it was. For a few days after that surgery, he seemed like his old perky self. And then he wasn't. He was tired. He lost weight. He wouldn't eat. And yesterday, all he wanted to do was put his head in my lap. Last night, his nose started bleeding and wouldn't stop. The KH took him to the emergency vet late last night and he confirmed our fears. Sam was bleeding internally and there was a large amount of fluid around his heart. I woke the kids and the other dogs and we all went to the vet in the middle of the night to say goodbye to one of our own. Everyone had the chance to pet him and talk to him and give him a last kiss, and through it all, Sam wagged his funny tail and seemed to smile at us all. Then I put my hand on his head and he closed his eyes, and a few seconds later, he was gone. Quietly. Peacefully. With his whole pack around. We didn't have him as long as we would have liked, but we loved him, and in the end, that's what mattered.

Goodbye, Sam. We'll always love you.

Hair Trauma Drama

Okay, so it's not that bad. I just couldn't resist a nice bit of alliteration.

I got my hair cut today. This is always a mildly distressing experience for me, but was an even more serious prospect than usual today, since I have been unable to get an appointment with my usual stylist for the past three months and had to go to someone else. She's been cutting my husband's hair for years, and she's great with a crew cut, but that's not really the look I'm going for, ya know? It's not that I don't trust her, it's just that past experience has taught me that I do not communicate well with hair stylists. Somehow, whatever I say comes across as, "Yes, please chop off as much as possible, and while you're at it, make it look like I crossed paths with a rabid dog on my way home."

So I was nervous about the whole thing, but I couldn't take one more day of pulling my hair back into a pony tail to keep it out of my face while I'm working and I didn't have a better option.

I tried to explain my usual style to her, but I guess it wasn't that easy to decipher from the grown-out mess on my head. There was a lot of snipping and combing and snipping and blow-drying and snipping some more. Quite a bit more snipping than I'm really comfortable with, to tell you the truth, and only my over-developed sense of courtesy--and the fact that the woman had a pair of razor sharp scissors to my head--kept me from screaming, "Stop with the snipping already! It's short enough! What are you DOING back there anyway?!"

And then, although I clearly asked her to dry it so the ends curled under, every time I looked up, she was drying the ends with a distinct outward flip. A lot of flip. Enough flip to skateboard off of. But, hey, at least she was done with the scissors, and flip washes out.

The end result is significantly shorter, poofier, and more...uh...helmet-like than I was going for--although that last will probably change after I wash it and do my usual sleep-on-it-wet-as-a-styling-technique routine.

I think I'm more or less okay with it, though. At least the pony tail is gone.

Progress

On the knitting front, at least.

Warm and Fuzzy (Summer Solstice) is blocking! I finished it last night around midnight and left it soaking in a warm bath overnight.

As I expected (and planned for), the alpaca grew like crazy in length when it hit water. The yarn also softened up nicely and became delightfully drapey.

The end result is a wrap-like sweater that falls below the hip on me--and looks much better on me than on Bertha.

The design is fun to knit, with almost no finishing. I did add a few details that weren't in the original, like these purl stripes on the cuffs, hem, and collar.

It's almost dry now, and I did a little test try-on. It fits perfectly! I'll be taking it to work with me tomorrow, but I'll try to get modeled shots next weekend.

Now, back to that BSJ.