Friday, December 20, 2013
No one can resist this sweet little face:
And no one can resist *this* sweet little face:
And yet, the two of them are resisting each other mightily. The black dog is my Shasta. The curly little mop is MIL Pat's dog Koshi. And so far their interactions have consisted primarily of growling at each other with the occasional barking and snapping bout.
We were really hoping they were going to be good little buddies for each other. But they are like two boxers in their corners, Shasta curled up next to me, Koshi curled up with Pat. They ignore each other until one of us gets up. Then there is posturing and raised hackles. They are, however, so little, that the two of us and DH can only giggle at their antics.
But if we take them for a walk? They're just fine. Shasta is a good walker, game for 5 miles without tiring in the least. Koshi isn't used to that kind of exercise, so I can't take them for a long enough walk to wear them both out. But they do great as long as they are on the leashes.
I'm hoping that by next week they might consider playing with each other. Dumb dogs!
Thursday, December 19, 2013
This is my hero:
This is Ernestine Shepherd. She is a runner and body builder.
She is also 77 years old.
And she was a pudgy couch potato until she was 50.
My mother is younger than Ernestine, and my mother is a frail old woman who is unlikely to live out the year. Now, genetics plays a role in how well we do as we age, but how we live is also a huge factor.
When I grow up, I want to be Ernestine.
Saturday, December 07, 2013
Wow, I got a new insight today, thanks to my Spark Activity Tracker. We had a bit of an ice storm last night, just enough to turn all the sidewalks into skating rinks. I took the dog out walking on our usual routine path. It's .75 miles long and I average 1600 steps walking it. But the ice meant that I had to be much more cautious, and take smaller steps. So what is usually 1600 steps turned into 2200!
Friday, December 06, 2013
My stepfather died yesterday evening. We had a house full of people when my sister called, and I just sort of fell to the floor. Everyone was wonderful and kind and stuck around to see it they could help, but of course there is nothing to be done, really.
Mom doesn't want anyone to come to Montana at this time. There will not be a funeral. Instead, she wants us to come next summer and have a memorial for him that is a picnic and family gathering. It's what he wanted.
My sister said that she had left Mom at dialysis and gone up to see Carey, and that even though his stats weren't changed, she could suddenly tell that something was wrong. She rushed back to get Mom from dialysis, and they got back to the hospital just 15 minutes before he died.
I'm feeling sad and in shock and kind of ... not numb, but like the world is all being muffled through cotton wadding. Like I can't quite move forward. I have a huge amount of work I need to get through in the next two days, but I can't really get myself started on anything.
I am glad that I got the Christmas lights up outside yesterday before all this happened. I can't imagine trying to do it today.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
I went to bed last night, absolutely decided that I wasn't going to run in the Turkey Dash this morning. I went to bed late, and I didn5k.'t set an alarm.
I woke up at 7:00 and thought, "Oh, no. Not happening." I went back to sleep.
I woke up again at 8:00 and thought, "Well...."
I texted my buddy and asked her what she was going to do. She was sitting on the couch, trying to decide. So I typed, "Hey, it's an hour of being cold, but then a whole day of feeling smug."
And so I went and did the 5k. I was slow as all get-out, finishing in an appalling 47 minutes. But I did it. At this point I have 10,000+ steps on my Spark Tracker for the day.
I am also absolutely stuffed full of delicious Thanksgiving dinner, and about ready to fall asleep.
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