|These cherry blossoms were in full bloom a few weeks ago, but are now almost gone. We'd missed them when we moved here last April.|
There's really nothing new to report. Life has been good; I only have blessedly petty gripes like 'the kids are so messy' and the 'dog is driving me crazy.' Speaking of the latter, at the moment she is curled up on her bed sleeping. Not that she needs any special reason to take a nap, but she is recovering from the procedure that ensures there will be no Willow Juniors. She has perked up considerably after a full evening and night of rest, and has been eating and drinking today; but is still not herself yet. I told Delaney this morning, "It's not that I want her to have more surgeries, but 'convalescent Willow' is really easy to have around." She chuckled knowingly. Willow is now eight months old, and a couple weeks ago -- after thinking we were in the clear (again) with housetraining -- we went through another rough patch. She sneaked off several times to pee on the laundry room floor or my bedroom closet, which was infuriating. She was also pushing our buttons in other ways, like getting into things she knows she shouldn't and tormenting Joey. What to blame it all on? Puppy adolescence? French bulldog stubbornness? The full moon? The dog hates me? Who knows. I really started to think that maybe she was not a good fit for our family, but I was outvoted in that regard. We tightened the reins on her and got her back under control (I think? So far she's made a liar of me every time I've said that.); and I've read that once dogs are altered, they are much less inclined to mark. Now if I could ever get her to mind me when I don't have a treat in my hand..
|Happiness is freshly-picked daffodils on my kitchen counter.|
40 is coming at me fast. I was in Walmart a few weeks ago buying beer in the self-checkout because it seemed to be the only line that was moving. I will never do that again. Here's why. As I had anticipated, the checkout person had to come over and approve my purchase. I had my ID at the ready, not because there's any doubt I'm over 21, but because I figured they'd have to punch in my birthdate. But that is not what happened. She scanned her card and waved off my proffered driver's license. Then the screen said, "Is the customer over 40 or under 40?" When she picked "over 40", I was like dang. I know it's funny, and I can laugh. Walmart is not in the business of flattery. The loud buzz alerting me to the fact that my middle-aged features are being recorded as I'm perusing the makeup aisle, as well as the person checking receipts by the door, should have told me that. Furthermore, as Tim pointed out, if she'd selected "under 40", she probably would have then had to enter my birthdate, and what Walmart employee has time for that? Still, no more self-checkout for alcohol at Walmart. No need for me to see what's happening on that screen!
A few days later, after I'd told my mom the story, I said, "It's funny how I thought I was over myself until that moment." I really thought I was OK with being 40-ish, but it turns out I was kind of in denial about it. Well, once again, it's time to get over myself.
I've got nothing else for you -- or maybe I'm just losing my focus again and thinking of whatever else I'm hoping to accomplish before whatever version of Joey (clingy? grouchy? cheerful? angry?) wakes up from his afternoon nap. I'll leave you with a 12-second video that might make you swoon; and a random assortment of pictures.
|The boys have both gotten 'daddy haircuts.' Finally! No more Dumb & Dumber.|
|Delaney loves all things Patriots; here she is reading the magazine that Grandma sent her, published by the Boston Globe after their latest Superbowl win.|