This is the World In Which We Live Now

SUMMARY: COVID-19? Normal reality? Somewhere in between?

Just a day in the life of... during lockdown... Monday, April 6, 2020

UPDATES APRIL 9, 11:30AM PDT: Added a bit more to the puzzle-doing and a related photo.

• 2 AM -- Poof! Awake! Why why why?  Don't need to visit the Little Human Mom's Room. No extraneous noises that I can  hear. Suddenly the sheets are scratchy, the pillow is lumpy. My shoulder hurts when I roll over. I roll back.
  
  This is not abnormal for me. I wish it were. Should not have stayed awake past 11, reading the Captive Prince books for the 3rd time in 3 weeks, where I dozed off twice with the Kindle and light still on, then slept for real--for a little while. Until 2.

• 7 AM -- Oh! Apparently sleep returned at some point! But NOW why awake?  I feel a little chilly: Darn it, electric mattress pad turned off at some point.
  
  It's nice that it does that after a certain number of hours, because I'd prefer that neither it nor my bedroom furniture catch fire. BUT if I turn it on early to prewarm my flannel-clad bed, then if I forget to reset it when I snuggle into bed, this happens sometime during the night or early morning.   No choice now: I rise and release the boys from their crates.

• 7:15ish -- Neither dog dashed downstairs immediately; instead, THEY are now  curled up on my body-warmed section of bedding. THEY don't care that it's Monday. So I have made my daily weigh-in and recorded it in my FitBit, chosen clothing (turtleneck and  warm fleece. And jeans, because always jeans), dressed, and taken care of The Usual Related Activities.

• 7:30ish -- Down to the kitchen, open the door to the back porch for the dogs. Gray skies and rain. I remind Zorro that he needs to get off the porch to Go Pee. Chip is self-monitored
  
• (Except yesterday afternoon when I heard this weird noise like Chip chewing softly on something unusual. Dashed around the corner of my desk and somedog had marked one of the cardboard boxes sitting there with Things To Do in it.  I still don't know for sure who it was  who Done the Deed, because he licks to clean it up so I have no way of knowing who left it there to be cleaned up, and I never catch either of them actually Doing It, and so I don't know whether I heard him peeing or licking. So there was some time mopping the carpet and box, applying Nature's Miracle, and so on. )
  
• Put the doggie door in: The door is clean and dry, unlike yesterday morning when it was covered with rainwater, on both sides, go figure, as it's resting closer to horizontal than vertical, but it gave me an excuse to clean the glass then.
  
• Stride confidently but carefully on my new-ish knee to the driveway in the rain to fetch the daily paper. 

• I always wonder--it's covered in plastic, which supposedly can hold COVID virus for up to 3 days, and moisture and chill encourage it, so how much decontamination must I do on the bag if it has been sitting in the rain for probably 3 hours?  This is the world in which we live now.

•  7:45ish -- What for breakfast? The Chef personally selects a prime cut of whole wheat sourdough from her personal freezer, places it into the high-tech defrosting/warming/browning device (yes! all in one device!), carefully spreads choice fruit puree from the cooling box, and pours a chilled glass of milk from only Happy Cows in California. Served at a private table. And A Baby's Arm Holding an Apple. Or, actually, only the apple.
  
  Eat breakfast, read some of the paper, start scrolling through Facebook on my Portable Time-Wasting Device, catch myself after not too long, and set it down.

• 8:30ish -- I have a 9:15 phone meeting w/client manager; I've been anticipating for the last couple of weeks that, despite earlier reassurances about renewing me, they don't have the work for me that they thought they did. So, anyway, for the client: download, read, and distribute emails or respond to them, check Slack for everyone's work statuses on the teams there, do a wee bit of work.

• 9:15 -- Meeting. Yep. 2 week's notice that contract is ending. One manager thinks there might be work there somewhere else, but nothing so far. My company is also looking for something for me. I REALLY wouldn't mind a couple of weeks off, even if it's unpaid.  But I also really need the income. With my company and my position, this is complicated. Might address in another post.

• With the current employment environment--higher than during the Great Depression in some places, and unemployment organization overwhelmed with applications, no idea whether a job exists anywhere for me.  This is the world in which we live now. 

• 9:25-11: Read client team's agenda for 11:00 meeting, more email, phone call, start this blog post, I dunno, work & leisure intertwined.

• 11:00-11:35 -- WebEx team video meeting. Status, what we're working on, what our plans are, and so on. Actually well organized and efficient, with 2 or 3 instances where some funny comment got us all laughing. Important in these not-really-end times.

• 11:10 -- OMD forgot to feed the dogs around 10! Chip gives me a gentle nudge, I pet him for a bit while continuing in the meeting.

• 11:35 to 1:15 -- Who the heck knows? Chat w/some people at client or at my company via Slack or email.  Feed the poor patient dogs.

• Start reviewing a website with a free How To Become An API Writer course, in writing, not dumb videos, which is exactly the kind of document that I wanted to write for my last project for the client but it turned into something else. This is billable in some form or other, because that's what I'm working on for the client AND for my company.
  
  Glad that I pointed it out to my client's writing team, because there are a couple of experienced writers who don't know the first thing about APIs or programming or documentation for such, and w/out my specifically suggesting it to them, they've already started working their way through it. I expect that they and my client will be enriched by it. So, I'm not the one who wrote it, but I am the one who typed the  link to it (big win for me! Yay! Gold star! Not real gold, though--).

• My mail-order fudge arrived! As did a mail order prescription in a plastic bag. 

• Mailman delivered to my front porch barehanded (well, gloves wouldn't have mattered), but did he disinfect his hands before handling it here or at the PO? Fudge is in a cardboard box, and I have my little spray bottle of alcohol ready; spray the whole  thing down, cardboard as well as the plastic tape holding it closed, because cardboard can hold the virus for possibly 3 hours or longer.   This is the world in which we live now. 

• Had lunch. Half can of spicy bean soup, hot for a cold wet day, combined with a big mug of hot chocolate. Hit the appropriate spot. Down side: Now I want a nap.
• 
  
• 1:15 -- Fudge package has been sitting now for about an hour and alcohol has dried.  I extract my 4 containers with different flavors of fudge (these folks do a PHENOMENAL job!). My order included a free flavor-of-the month, peanut butter banana, which I'd have never chosen on  my own, so I pull it out for a taste test... quarter of a pound later, yep, it's as phenomenal as all the other flavors! Shouldn't be reading paper & eating fudge at the same time.
  
  
• 1:31 -- Call vet to give him status of the lump on Chip's shoulder from a week ago. Looking good to me (so far diagnosis is simply a fluid-filled bruise, which he aspirated, tested blood & checked for cancer indications, and it all looks fine).

• 1:32 -- Bring this blog up to this hour.
  
  
• 1:45 -- OMG I really need a nap. Guess I'd better let work know that I'm taking another break. The day is gray and rainy; I try to survive by turning on every light in sight, but it's just not working for me today. 

• thru 4:00 -- oops, lost track of my time, so the rest of the day  is rough guesses. In bed, reading some, napping some, occasionally getting checked by the dogs, which wakes me some each time. Still, it's relaxing. I know that I'm really ready for sleep when I slip under the covers, put my head down, and everything immediately seems perfectly comfortable and safely enclosing.
  
  Fitbit tells me afterwards that I slept 1 hr 41 mins during that time, which is great, because last night I slept less than 5 hours.

• Thru 10:00 PM -- Some things that happened--
• I thought the yard guy wasn't going to be coming during the COVID lockdown after I paid him through May and said he should stay home if he felt more comfortable doing that; he skipped 2 weeks but showed up today with one or 2 assistants. So, while he was working out front, I went out back and started scooping poops. Seems like only a day or 2since I was out there, BUT there were little deposits everywhere! So my time sense was failing me again. It has been raining for a couple of days, so most of them were wet and heavy and partially melted into the grass, so it took a while. (I know you wanted to know all this.)  Finished just as he came through the gate. 

• We said hi, how are you, I'm good, from across the yard, and I went back inside. This is the world in which we live now.\

• After he left, I decided to go for a walk. (Walked yesterday in the rain with my brolly and barely a soul to be seen.)  Rain stopped much earlier, and things had started to dry out. It's about 6:30 and joggers are everywhere! My side of the street, the other side of the street, the middle of the street--   and I start wondering: 

• If  virus is detectable for up to three hours in aerosols (exhales), then is it safe for me to walk back to the house at all? Well, I'm not going to wait 3 hours, and anyway more people would be coming-- and there is a slight breeze for dispersal. So I go back home, a shorter walk than planned.  This is the world in which we live now.

• I did take a few photos while out. Posted a couple on Facebook. Probably spent a bunch of time on Facebook, too. 

• Ate more fudge. Way more fudge. It is really really really good, and so smooth! Until very recent years, I could eat sugar with impunity--that is, with no detectable symptoms--but in the last, I dunno, 3-4 years, my body starts feeling wonky. Can't describe it exactly, but it happens when I've had too much sugar. So: My body starts feeling wonky.

• I manage to have something small (because not that hungry now) vaguely healthy for supper--finish the rest of the soup, and some nuts?-- with a glass of cold milk, and now the milk is gone! 

• So am I going to go to the store? Scary! Am I going to order & pay extra to have it delivered? Expensive, plus will still have to clean things as they come into the house! How long do I want to go w/out milk? That means no oatmeal or other cereals in the  morning. And nothing to drink with fudge! Crisis!  This is the world in which we live now.

• Did a bunch of puzzles in the paper. Every other Sunday, they have the usual puzzles plus a bonus entire section with more puzzles. Crosswords are my main thing. For years I avoided cryptograms--did them as a kid but then they seemed like too much work. But a year or so ago, I did one out of desperation, and Lo! it wasn't too hard and didn't take too long. (The ones in the paper aren't all that challenging and give one letter for you. I typically finish them in 5-8 minutes, with maybe a max of 15 on occasion. If it's more than that, I do quit because it then *does* feel like work.)
  
  UPDATE April 9: The San Jose Mercury News, because it has hardly enough to fill the daily Sports section, has instead been filling another whole page with just puzzles! Sports have stopped. All sports. Tennis, football, hockey, golf, at high school, college, pro levels. All of it. This is the world in which we live now.
  Doing puzzles to avoid doing actual work or anything here at home that needs doing. Today is a day in which my stress level is high, can't concentrate, can't make even smaller decisions for the most part, feel completely incapable of functioning. 

• Pondering: It has now been 6 days without driving anywhere (back then, it was to the vet and get a few groceries). It was 9 days before that (groceries and Farmer's Market). And I think 10 days before that. I'd rather have it be more more more days w/out breathing other people's air or touching things that other people touch.  This is the world in which we live now.

• 10:00 -- Agreed with dogs that it's time for bed. But-- OMG, did I give them dinner?  I struggle to remember and can't, and I see that I didn't give Chip his mealtime medication. So I give them each about 1/3 of a meal and figure it won't kill them to have extra or to have a little too little this evening.

• 10:20 -- We are all tucked into our beds and crates. I read some but again doze off while reading, then eventually put that away and turn out the light, and it feels like reasonable sleep. Hope so, since the last couple of nights have been iffy. But I did get that nap in the afternoon--.
  
• Update next morning: 6 hrs 47 min sleep per Fitbit. Pretty good, for me.

Related images--

Walked in the rain the previous day. No one around.

Zorro with newspaper in its plastic bag

Who just stole my warm spot on my bed??

Chip resenting having his photo taken with the shaved spot from his shoulder-lump work.

UPDATE APR 9: Sports section with normal half page of puzzles plus
a whole 'nother page because there ain't no sports nowhere nohow!

Context Is Everything

SUMMARY: Even newspaper-fetching dogs really don't generalize well

One thing that I've heard trainers say repeatedly through the years is that dogs do not generalize well. Maybe he sits perfectly every time you say "Sit" in the kitchen, but not when you move to the living room. So you practice in the living room and then he'll sit there or in the kitchen, but not when you go into the bedroom. So you practice there until he gets it, but he won't sit out on the back porch. So you practice all those places until he's good at it, but then he won't do it when out in the yard.  Then maybe he sits on command in the yard every morning when you got outside to practice, but not if the wind is blowing. Or the neighbor is using a leaf blower. Or you're wearing sunglasses and a hat. So you practice all these things, but then won't sit in the same place in the same yard after dark.

It's not surprising that he won't then sit on command when he goes to the park or into a stranger's house.

In agility, dogs might go over your PVC jumps with no problems, but the first time that they encounter solid wood-winged jumps at the Nationals, they don't know what to do. Or your weave poles are plain white, and the first time they encounter striped ones, they pop out left and right. (Or the poles are randomly striped. Or one leans slightly to the left.) Or the first time they run on dirt. Or the first time you go to a particular new site. Or when the judge wears a big floppy hat.

Dogs DO place an amazing emphasis on context; this is why you have to practice everything that's important to you everywhere every time under every circumstance that you can think of before you can claim that the dog really understands the command independent of the context in which it's uttered. (Oh, by the way, does you dog understand the command when someone else gives it?) As you do something a thousand, 2 thousand times in dozens of different places and circumstances, the dog gets better and better at generalizing -- meaning this human noise means the same thing no matter what the rest of the world looks, smells, or sounds like.

Which brings me to this.

Every morning for almost 9 years, Boost has gone out to the end of the driveway and brought in the newspaper. Rain or wind or shine; dark or light; plastic bags or uncovered paper; gigantic ad-filled sunday edition or 20-page Tuesday edition; at the very end of the driveway, up towards the cars, over under the shrub, closer to the sidewalk; squirrels or cats (a momentary distraction only); garbage trucks or neighbors (of some concern, but not too terrifying any more). Doesn't matter.

First thing in the morning, I let the dogs out back. Then, if I don't immediately go to the front door after she comes in, she sits in the front hall and waits for me. SOOOO predictable.

As I approach the front door, she's dancing and barking with excitement. I stand in the front doorway and send her with "Go get the newspaper!" and she blasts out of the house, down the steps, around the corner, down the driveway, finds the paper and comes happily back, carries the paper all the way into the kitchen, drops it on the dog bed next to my chair, and waits for her treat. Sometimes for various reasons I step all the way out on the porch as she heads down the driveway and close the door behind me. When she comes back with the paper, she holds it until I open the door and then proceeds as normal.

Boost DIVES for the paper, her rear feet in the air and her tail flying forward at the abrupt pounce!

She is perfect at it and she loves it.

Sure, we're out of town from time to time, so maybe 20 times a year she doesn't actually go out and get the newspaper, but over all, I calculate that she has done this about 3,100 times in her life.

The other morning, for the first time in many years, I got dressed and took the dogs for a walk immediately after I got up--no breakfast, no newspaper fetch.  On the way home from the walk, as we arrived at our driveway, the paper was still sitting there. I unclipped her leash and said, "Get the newspaper!" Mass confusion--she darted this way and that, trying to figure out what it was that I wanted her to do or get.

So I called her back to me and we walked to the top of the driveway near the house, and I again said, "Get the newspaper!" I tried not to laugh--she was SO eager to get SOMETHING but she just simply did not understand WHAT I was asking. She headed towards the paper a couple of times and then veered away again, bouncing back and forth in that frenzied demonstration of "come on come on come on me want job me want do job ME NOT UNDERSTAND JOB!"

I repeated the command several times and finally she saw paper, identified paper, picked up paper, ran up steps toward door--dropped paper halfway there and waited for me to open the door and let her in. The paper stayed on the front step.

 I knew immediately what had happened: We had practiced doing this 3,100 times with exactly the same situation: She's in the house, I step out through the door, then I send her from there. No wonder she does *that* perfectly. But we've never practiced sending her from other places at other times of the day or with me in different locations.

Dog brains are so strange. Good thing they're cute.

Miscellany Again

SUMMARY: Vibrating collar, newspaper fetching, face plants, Border Collies, excellent agility dogs.

My new vibrating collar arrived yesterday; I was so excited! Plugged it in for its 12-hour charge, tried to turn it on this morning, and it doesn't work per the instructions. Half an hour of trying to figure it out, then 20 minutes on the phone with support, and they're going to have to send me a replacement. Sigh. At least I'm getting a new one, but I so wanted to be able to play with it this weekend?

[break]

Y'all probably know that Boost gets the paper from the driveway for me every morning. She loves it; so excited to charge out there, pounce on it (sometimes sliding and a little ripping, but I don't mind), grab it, and come running back in. Sometimes I get the Excited Bark before she goes out.

The other morning, as she was running back up the driveway, a squirrel ran right in front of her and off across the lawn! I saw those ears go up, the tail come up (the "wow, now THIS is REALLY INTERESTING" look) and she veered from her path about a meter or so (in this context, saying "about 2 feet" or "about a yard" both seemed to be ambiguous, hurray for metric), with me thinking, "uh oh", then she veered back in and continued running up the steps to deliver the paper! You go, Border Collie!

Tika was never that kind of dog.

[break]

Speaking of Border Collies--Boost sometimes likes to sleep in her crate in the bedroom. I think when the nights are warmer, she goes there. She hasn't slept in it for a while, but the last two nights, she's gone right in there. Last night, as I climbed into bed, she stuck her head out, stepped out stretching, and I said, "Oh, look, a Border Collie!", trying to be funny, but she completely misunderstood: Went into alarm barking, looking around and at the door in particular. Took a while to convince her that SHE was the border collie I was talking about!

[break]

Last night in class, I did a faceplant. Not doing actual agility, no, of course not. I had just snapped the leash back onto Boost to leave her at the sidelines, turned and stepped away, and somehow a loop of the leash caught my foot and slammed me face forward onto the ground. I've never had this happen before. Usually you *trip* over something--your foot catches and releases as you flail, trying to catch yourself. Nope, it was as if my foot had been suddenly nailed to the ground and the centripetal force slammed me down before I could even get my arms out. Hit my forehead, cheek, nose, glasses, chin, shoulders, hips. A little stunning but on the face of it (ha) almost undoubtedly less painful than landing on my knees or having my arms extended trying to catch myself. I'm quite proud of myself for being able to use centripetal in a sentence.

[break]

Both dogs did great in class last night. Tika and I seemed to be communicating very well. Boost had one little sequence where she knocked 3 bars in a row and we stopped and regrouped. Mostly bars did not come down. And at the end, a tricky run with a couple of back-side-front-cross funny things we didn't get through, and I decided that was enough practicing failures and stopped that quickly. But mostly all really nice, including Boost sending to the weaves 10 feet on the far side of the dogwalk from me.

More false hope for actual Qs in the future.

[break]
No agility again this weekend. I'm looking forward to it.

New Member

SUMMARY: A brief bio.

I've been a member of The Bay Team since not long after I started agility lessons, without ever really intending to become an active member (ha! we know how that turned out!). I joined SMART when that club formed, although I consider myself more a supporting member. I attend several other clubs' events regularly but never joined; finally decided that I really ought to join more of them both as a sign of general support and to keep up on the news.

So I joined more clubs (aren't we lucky to have so many with members located nearby?). And one asked for a photo and a new member bio. Well, I hardly think I'm new to most of their members, but OK, I'll indulge:

My obedience instructor suggested agility to me as I was running out of other things to try with my smart and energetic rescue Squirrelhünd, Remington (competitive obedience, tracking, tricks). I fell in love with the sport from the instant that I saw the brilliantly colored obstacles on the emerald green lawn with dogs doing unbelievable feats before my very eyes. I signed up for classes at Power Paws Agility (except back then, in 1995, they hadn't come up with that name yet). My instructors finally convinced me to try a competition, and I did, at a mudful NADAC trial in January 1996 in San Martin. And we got some Qs and some ribbons! And you know what happened next: More agility, and more and more and more! I had to keep my day job as a technical writer to pay for the agility entry fees, the agility training, the agility shoes, the agility videos, the agility gear bags, the agility team shirts, the agility canopy, the agility obstacles for the yard, the agility minivan MUTT MVR, and, of course, the agility house Taj Mutthall in San Jose.

I've competed with four very different dogs and we've earned Qs in NADAC, ASCA, CPE, and USDAA. My second dog, Jake the Semidachshund, earned Championships in all four, but now there are so many trials available that I've concentrated on USDAA with some CPE; my third dog, Tika the rescue Craussie, has Championships in both of those. My fourth dog, Boost the nonrescue Border Collie (littermate to locals Bette, Beck, and Derby and Top Ten dog Gina (sibling envy? what sibling envy?))--well, let's say that she loves to do agility, or any other active and interesting job. She particularly excels at bringing in the newspaper every morning so I don't have to step outside no matter the weather.

I've watched the sport and my own skills change. I'm delighted (in retrospect) how I went from huddling in a dark corner many years ago, cursing the dog gods and myself because we couldn't get even the easiest gambles, to thrilling about Tika's position as the #2 Gambling dog in USDAA Performance 22" for the year 2011. Having great instructors and, yes, sigh, practicing really helped with that.

Tika turns 11, Boost turns 7, and I turn [mumblety-mum] at the end of January; and I'm still shaping up my thoughts on what's next for all of us. I know that photography fits in there somewhere, and hiking, and yeah, sure, someday I'll get back to that budding fiction-writing career that I abandoned 16 years ago for the slings and arrows of dogwalk contacts.

I blog about all this at TajMutthall.org.

Get the Leo!

 SUMMARY: Useful tricks.

I'm liking this "get it" thing. The more things I think to teach my dog to get, the more their little furminds grok the concept of "woman want me bring sumthing. me find something bring."

This is not too hard for Boost, but challenging for Tika who really gets the concept of picking something up but tends to drop it immediately and come to me for a reward. Getting it to me might take several iterations of pick it up, drop it one foot closer, pick it up, drop it one foot closer, etc.

Boost does "get the newspaper" every morning and she hardly ever stops to tear the plastic bag apart in the driveway anymore, except saturday when there were free samples of Honey Fiber Oat Sugar Pretend Healthy Cereal and a granola bar entombed in the bag as well. I had to go out and stand two inches from the paper and say "get the newspaper!" which was a lot more work than just getting it myself, but it was an entertaining situation and not actually raining at that moment, so it was OK.

"Get the xxxx" comes in useful when a dog-related entertainment product ("toy") needs to be retrieved from wayyyy under a table so I can vacuum.

They both "get your dish!" at mealtime most meals these days. The usual routine is (and all of this takes about 20 seconds combined and is mostly going on simultaneously):

1. Boost runs into the kitchen where the dishes [usually] are. 
2. Tika runs into the kitchen. 
3. Boost gets excited watching Tika grab a dish,  and runs out to the deck where I'm waiting, to be able to watch Tika come through the door.
4. Tika brings her dish to the other side of the doggie door, drops it, and comes out without it. 
5. Meanwhile I tell Boost "get your dish!" again, and she barks once, runs into the kitchen, gets her dish, and either (a) brings it to the doggie door, drops it, hops through, and sticks her head back through to get it, (b) brings it through the doggie door and drops it at a full run so it rolls or bounces off somewhere random, or (c) brings it right to me, drops it at my feet, and if I don't IMMEDIATELY THIS MINUTE pick it up and fill it with food, she immediately picks it up and throws it at my feet, loudly. 
6. Meanwhile, I've been telling Tika again, "Get your dish!", and she whines and yelps and spins and goes through the dog door and back out and then when i tell her AGAIn, she goes in, runs into the kitchen (but the bowl isn't there because she dropped it by the dog door), she runs back out, where I tell her for the 12th time, "TEEEEEka, GET. YOUR. DISH!"
7. Whereupon Boost thinks, "oh,  fer cryin'... gah..." leaps through the dog door, grabs Tika's dish,  brings it out, throws it at my feet, and Tika grabs it, drops it immediately back at my feet, and looks at the food bin expectantly, mission having been accomplished as requested.

Sometimes actually everyone does everything right the first time, with only a little bit of yapping and spinning and "GET YOUR DISH" repeatology.

Anyway, then  I often, using the food from the dishes, fill up their Buster Cubes or their Leos. (Turquoise and blue tubular things center bottom:)

Leos are quieter than Buster Cubes, so I mostly use them now.

There's a routine to this, too:

1. I say to the dogs, "Oooh, a Leo!" and like that, several times while filling them. 
2. Tika gets her Leo in the dining room where the floor heater vent is covered to prevent food from dropping into the ductwork and the dogs pawing at the heater vent for the next 2 months. I say, "Here's your Leo!"
3. Boost gets hers in the office. I say, "Here's Boost's Leo!" All of this verbiage is to try to put a name to the object.
4. When Tika's stops rapidly dispensing treats, she takes it out to the back lawn, finishes it, and leaves it there.
5. Boost leaves hers wherever it was in the office when she got the last bits out.

Sometimes they vanish. I also bought a purple one later "as an emergency backup" (but really because it was purple).  So one day last week I couldn't find the blue one. This should not be so hard; the office is not  that big and it's downstairs from the rest of the house, so it's not likely to roll upstairs. Sure, there are a couple of boxes and furnitures, but I looked everywhere. The renter even came down and helped me look. Nowhere to be found.

So I used the purple emergency backup Leo. That worked for a couple of days, then the next time I went looking for it, there was the blue one in the middle of the floor but the purple one was nowhere to be found. (And believe me, I looked, as it was now obvious that it had to be here SOMEWHERE nearby.) Nothing.

The next day I came looking, and the blue AND purple ones were lying in the middle of the floor.

But that's not what I came here to tell you about.

This morning it was literally freezing outside at breakfast time. I was still in my bathrobe. Yard is still wet from last week's rain. Tika's turquoise Leo is sitting out in the middle of the back lawn. We have already achieved "Get your dish!" with a minimum of brouhaha. So, what the heck, I grab Tika's collar, point her at the deck stairs, and say "Get the Leo!" She runs down the stairs, looks around (there were no other dog-related entertainment products in sight, which helped),  spies the Leo in the lawn, run to it, grabs it, and brings it all the way back up to me without dropping it or being reminded even once!

That is SO COOL!

Now if only they were ready for the "get my AT&T Uverse network password which I put somewhere safe last month, but not sure where that might be! GET IT!"

Whether the Weather is Fair or--

SUMMARY: Whether the weather is not--

Whether the weather is cold or whether the weather is hot,
Whether the weather is fair or whether the weather is not,
Whatever the weather, we weather the weather, whether we like it or not.
(Anonymous?)

(Great, now NEITHER spelling of weather/whether looks right any more! At least it doesn't throw in wether to really snarl my brain.)

The situation right now per radar on Accuweather.com (which has an "animate" button so you can see the rain as it moves). I have this window up all the time in foul weather. Where I am: About halfway between the dot representing San Jose and the grid line below it. (The color scale at the bottom tells heaviness of rain.) It's moving eastward and I'm about to be hit by another heavy mass of water falling from sky. In addition, wind has been howling--gusts up to 50 MPH (80 KPH) they say (I've seen only 30 so far). And coldish--mid-40s (4.5-ish C).

According to Weatherbug, my part of town has had 2" (5cm) of rain already today. (Not sure what their "today" is.) I love weatherbug because they provide lots more info when you go digging around PLUS they use all kinds of independent tracking stations, so you can pick the exact one you want to use. Or you can set up your own and get connected! (Detailed instructions on what equipment you need is somewhere on the site--it's not cheap stuff but not out of the realm of normal people.)

It's weather like this in which I REALLY REALLY love having a Border Collie who will run out to the end of the driveway and bring in my newspaper. Works great as long as she doesn't pick it up by the wrong end of the plastic bag so the paper falls out. So far this week she's done a fine job. My hero! Won't go out back to potty until desperate, but will go get the paper. Whatta girl!

Waiting for a break--it'll come eventually--to take the Merle Girls out for a walk at least. Thinking we're all going to be out of condition for this weekend's trial.

Meantime, I must start going through list of roofers to try to figure out why a doorframe is leaking that shouldn't be leaking. Curse you, Red Weather.

Rain. And Phone Books.

SUMMARY: Boost does some surprising fetching and is surprised by water from the sky.

It last rained in San Jose on March 15. Yesterday's forecast called for rain last night and this morning. An agility friend posted on her web site, "I wonder what rain feels like?" Anticipation lay low, humming, in the background of all conversations in the valley. Rain. At last.

Every morning, Boost fetches the newspaper for me from the driveway. Today, she woke me at 5:30 demanding to go out (drat, are we not over this yet? And it was going so well--). The ground was dry. Another wet forecast turning out to be all wet?

Since I was getting up at 6:00 anyway to go for an early hiking adventure, I opened the front door to see whether the paper yet sat in its plastic rain-bag at the end of my driveway. Nothing was there. But Boost burst past me, down the sidewalk, and skidded to a halt next to a dark, hulking, plastic-wrapped shape near the roses, and began to work at grabbing it. --What on earth--?

I walked out to the sidewalk, and discovered that the Phonebook Fairy had left the new phonebook for me, carelessly wrapped in plastic so that one end was protected from potential rain but the other end lay completely exposed. And dry. Boost was wrestling enthusiastically, trying to find some pages to grab, as the whole thing was, shall i say, a wee bit larger than even the usual Sunday-supplemented Saturday paper. I hurriedly aligned the phone book with the spine towards her, to prevent having the entire M section ripped out with a too-effusive effort to Get That Newspaper.

I didn't think she could actually manage it, but with several bits of assistance and several drops and re-pick-ups, she managed to get that whole huge thing into the house and deliver it to where she always delivers the paper. Quite an entertainment for her mom early in the morning.

As I gave her some thanks-for-fetching treats, the sky opened. How grateful was I now for being wakened early and also having the dog run out the front door without permission? Had she done neither of those things, I'd now have a sopping wet gigantic blob of former phonebook.

A few minutes later, Tika put up a big racket about Something Dangerous In The Front Yard. I peered out the door, and sure enough, the paper itself had arrived. So I fetched Boost, lined her up, said, "Ready....Get The Paper!" and released her. She blasted down the steps to the sidewalk--and skidded to a halt. She jerked her head and body left and right. She ran to one side. She stepped back. She looked at the roses like she might be about to spook. She started to wuff a "Danger! Unknown danger!" wuff, when I realized what was happening: She hadn't been rained on in 7 and a half months.

So I had to run out into the rain to reassure her, run with her down to the paper at the end of the driveway, and then follow her as quickly as I could as she dashed back inside, plastic-bagged paper grasped firmly in her jaws. OK, so now **I'M** wet, but at least the phone book is dry.


(I'll try to get my hike photos up soon. No dogs this time, though.)

Knee Surgery Is Done

SUMMARY: The last 24 hours--or less--

Tuesday evening, 7:00: Meet with my friend Karey, who is quite the knee-surgery veteran, to borrow her automated knee-icing machine (some inventions are truly mahvelous--and simple--and I'd have never imagined such a thing if she hadn't mentioned it earlier and offered to let me borrow it). She throws in a dinner of Thanksgiving "leftovers", which turn out to be a really lovely casserole made with layers of turkey and broccoli and potatos, smothered in cheese and baked. VERY tasty. Would never have known they were leftovers (which are supposed to be eaten out of tupperware containers and barely warmed over). Karey and Dan have lots of helpful hints.

My three dogs mingle with their three dogs with various levels of enthusiasm or antipathy. Inyo the retired Terv (well,OK, he hasn't retired from Tervhood) mostly hung out in the background, except when he came by periodically to show that he still remembers how to do the Shake and High 5 that I started teaching him while waiting for agility class Lo those many years ago. I just happen to have treats in my pocket for just such dog-behavior emergencies. He's not entirely convinced at first that a piece of puppy kibble is really what one would call a treat, but he eventually accepts it and periodically comes back for more.

The other dogs think this is a good idea and pretty soon I have thousands of dogs doing rights and lefts upon various commands (mostly rights and lefts but not guaranteed to match with what action the dogs actually take).

I am very stressed about the surgery although I know that there's no real reason to be. My knee, contrarily, is feeling absolutely wonderful and isn't swollen at all. Except for that catching thing that it started last week, which is happening more and more and more, to the point where I think that I don't even really want to walk, to avoid the chance that I might have to endure another of those sharp sudden spikes of pain. I will be very happy if the doctor can fix that. And whatever else needs fixing.

I head home after 10:00, picking up tons of ice for the ice machine on the way home. I decide that I'm too tired to start getting everything prepped for Surgery Day and crawl into bed with my security electric mattress pad (like a security blanket, only warmer) and then read for a while--everyone dies, makes me feel particularly encouraged), then fall asleep sometime after midnight.

Wednesday, 6:00 a.m.: I'm awake. Why why why? I lie in bed quietly for a while, checking to see whether maybe I have some sleep molecules left to take me away again. No such luck. Get up around 6:30.

I've had Boost back in her crate the last 2 nights, after not bothering most of the time for a few weeks. Of course she likes being on the bed because the other dogs are there, but she has to take the middle position to avoid the other 2 dogs, who hold down the two far corners of the bed. Which means that, as she adjusts her position or rolls over during the night, she always rolls over in my direction rather than towards the other dogs, which means that when *I* roll over, suddenly there's a dog where I want to be. So I jab my knees into where I want to put them, which makes Boost jump up, and then usually she jumps off the bed and wanders aimlessly around the room, which makes me nervous, so then I have to insist that she come back onto the bed and get her settled into position again in the middle of the bed. Repeat a couple of hours later.

So two nights ago I was just too tired and stressy to deal with that, so I suggested that she get into her crate (where she has slept most of the previous 18 months) and zipped her in. I think we both slept much better that way.

Wednesday, 7:00 a.m.: Boost fetches the newspaper for me from the end of the driveway. But--dang--I'm not allowed to have any food or drink, not even sips of water or mints or anything--after midnight before the surgery, so no reading the paper with breakfast! What ever shall I do?

I shall go through my to-do list to prep for my anticipated restrictions after surgery:

• Finish laundry and haul most of it back upstairs to my bedroom.
• Clear the boxes of xmas ornaments out of the hallway and off to one side in the living room. At least the tree is set up and has lights on it.
• Put away all the random stuff sitting around in the kitchen and various other places that might be in the way.
• Set up a "nest" in the living room, which is on the same level as the kitchen (bathroom & office are down 5 steps; bedroom is up 12), with laptop computer, books, crossword puzzles, lightweight down comforter, extra pillow, stuff like that.
• Make sure I've moved plenty of cold drinks from the garage (down 5 steps) into the fridge.

Also assembled everything I need to take with me, or imagine I might need, if I end up having to wait a long time ahead of time in the waiting room or a long time afterwards in the recovery room. Plus I want to be prepared for blogging!

• Notepad and paper, pens, digital snapshot camera.
• Novel I'm in the process of reading; crossword puzzle book.
• Kaiser card and photo ID, and $20 just in case--I don't know, but just in case anyway.
• Glasses case for my glasses and inhaler for my occasional lightweight asthma, requested by Kaiser that I bring with me.
• Crutches.
• Icing machine.

Mom and Dad's Chauffeur Service dropping me off in the morning.

I'm now fully IDed.

Self-portrait with cute little surgical cap and gown.

9:15 a.m.: I am showered, packed, dressed "in loose-fitting, comfortable clothing, no jewelery", and parents are here to pick me up right on the dot. My check-in time is 9:45 and it's only a 15 minute drive there, usually.

9:30 a.m.: Mom and I go in while Dad parks the car. No line at the check-in, so I register and sit down. They call me in to get started before Dad has even reappeared from the parking lot. They go over a lot of the same questions that they asked me in pre-Op (hearing aid? diabetes? allergies to meds? screaming panic attacks at the sight of doctors in cute little surgical caps? etc.).

10:00 a.m. (est; I'm not wearing my watch): I'm on a bed in the pre-op area, dressed only in my undies, one of those nice cloth gowns that tie in back, a cute little surgical cap for my hair, two disposable surgical booties, and one sock. They bring in all my stuff and send my parents home. They guess that I'll be done and ready to go home probably before 1:00.

Nurse has trouble getting the vein in the back of my hand to straighten out for the IV connector. She explains kindly what she's doing and why, apologizing repeatedly for the pain. I ask her whether most patients eventually give in to the torture and tell where the treasure is buried. She laughs and says she's never heard that line before. Maybe she's just being polite.

My doctor, Mr. Automata in our intial meeting, breezes in with a cheery and human-looking smile. We converse briefly about the right knee being the right knee, or the correct knee being the correct knee. He sent me email yesterday in response to a question of mine, saying "I'm looking forward to tomorrow." All of this is confirming that people go to medical school primarily for the joy of being able to legally poke other people repeatedly with sharp objects. When I mention his message, he says he always looks forward to the chance to make people's pain go away. It's a good line. Would probably hold up in court.

The nurse finishes pinning both the back and the front of my left handage and brisks herself away in search of substances to inject into the tubes and thereby into my circulatory system.

The anaesthesiologist, a very nice man, comes by and we have a brief discussion about the right leg being the right leg, etc., and then progress to a longer discussion about epidural (spinal) numbing or general anaesthesia. I really don't want to do the latter. It's scary, because you lose control of your body and your ability to respond to what it's telling you and so on. The doctor tells me that he has the same reaction, hates losing that mental control, but when he's had surgery, he had general, and he strongly recommends that for a variety of reasons. Epidural has small but slight risk of damaging nerves. More painful before and after. Recovery can take hours. More side effects likely. Sure, it's a commonly used procedure where they want the patient to be aware, as in birth deliveries, but they don't often use it there for knee surgery. General has its risks, too, but I'm a very low risk patient and he has no reservations at all about recommending the general for me. He gradually convinces me. He says that it's a bit of a phobia, wanting to avoid that general anaesthesia, and he'll give me something nice IV (valium-equivalent) to help me feel better about the decision. And about the surgery. And about life, the universe, and everything.

They are kind enough to have me read and sign all the various releases and disclaimers BEFORE they give me the "what-the-heck-life-is-beautiful" drug. I've had no time at all in which I needed to have novels or crossword puzzle books, although I do manage to snap a couple of photos (and nurse takes photo of me in the bed).

10:30 a.m., more or less: I feel great! A little distanced from the world, but just hunky-dory happy, calm, and peaceful. Everything's going to be just fine, yessirree. They wheel me into the operating room and I wiggle myself from the card onto the table with a little guidance. Dozens of people are bustling around doing whatever it is that people bustle around doing in operating rooms. Maybe if I ever watched TV (ER?) I'd know.

In the recovery room. With cap off.

Recovery room. Is it me or the camera that's a little wee bit skewed at the moment?

Apparently one of the things they do while bustling around is wrap my leg in surgical gauze and ace bandages, because I'm now lying there in the recovery room, opening my eyes (when did they close?), with my knee all bundled up. I suppose that some of the bustling also involved surgery, but you couldn't tell by me. I feel just the same as I did 30 subjective seconds ago while I was moving onto the table in the operating room--awake, comfortable, calm. The clock says, I think--

Blood-oxygen monitor. No sharp pointy things involved.

Post-surgery meal: Bread and water.

Noon-ish? Various very nice people ask how I'm doing, feed me some Vicodin, water, and graham crackers, call my parents, check my various status indicators, read me my instructions for the next few days, have me sign a release stating that I acknowledge still being alive after the surgery, and so on. Dad is there before they're even done with all that, and I get into my clothing and take a couple of steps into the wheelchair (so I didn't need the snacks I packed, the novel, the crutches, or the ice machine--I'll put that on at home). They wheel me out to the curb, dad drives me home and settles me in.

At home now--my view from my sofa nest. Finished putting lights on yesterday. Decorations are still in boxes.

You can see my three loving guard dogs hanging around my sofa nest (Jake left, Tika bottom, Boost by tree), and some boxes of tree decor, just waiting.

The icing machine. Looks like a cooler--well, I guess it is, with a motor and a hose and a thing that wraps around my leg and conveys ice-cold water automagically.

My sofa nest.

1:45ish Dad is gone, I'm here in my couch nest, the ice machine running. The surgical dressing is so thick that I can barely feel any coolness, but I'll just leave it on, letting it do its job. Leg feels fine, but the instruction sheet says "marcaine (a type of pain medication) was placed in your knee after the surgery, which will significantly reduce your discomfort during he first night. When this wears off, you may feel increased discomfort." Something to look forward to. And to discover whether "increased discomfort" is a euphemism for "bring on the morphine now, by the truckload please."

I feel no nausea, maybe a teeny bit of light headedness when standing (but that could've been from lack of food, too), and right now I'm feeling a teeny bit headachey (could be from lack of food, lack of sleep, aftereffects of anaesthesia, or just random headachability.

I think I'll have more food, see whether I can xfer this to my real computer to post on my blog, and maybe take a nap.