A Blind Dog and Her Llama.

Sophie was a huge squirrel fan and TV watcher and barking at golfers off the balcony years ago. She’s losing her vision to cataracts. She’s eleven and a half, which is young for that, but it’s happening.

She always adored playing fetch with her stuffed toys. It was a longstanding ritual. I’d come home from work and the first thing she did was bring me a toy to throw. I’m not sure when she stopped doing that, but gradually fetch just stopped being our ritual. She’d still pick up a toy and toss it around, but fetch was no longer a thing.

The day before yesterday I noticed Sophie exploring the basket where I stash the gazillion toys when I clean the floor. She found a toy and pulled it out of the basket. I hadn’t really been paying attention. This morning I realized that she’d pulled out her llama and took it to her favorite dog bed, so she could nap with it.

I’m So Over This: Saturday Edition.

I am fine, I’m still getting paid and I’m healthy and all in all, I’m incredibly fortunate. But I’m so fucking over this.

I have been doing fairly well with walking regularly, meaning 4-5 times a week, barring early conference calls. In fact, when I go back to work, if I ever go back to work, I need to adjust my hours so I can get a couple of miles in the morning. It truly makes me feel 30% less stressed throughout the day.

This was to be my shirt for the Star Wars 5k that will not happen. I came across it the other day while looking for yoga pants, and felt a wave of deep sadness. It’s such a small thing in the vast sea of awful, but dammit. I really wanted to wear this shirt for a picture with Chewbacca.

I alternate between the gritted-teeth “I’M FINE!!!” and actually feeling normal for a bit, then I go to Publix and don’t feel fine or normal at all. I had a decades long habit of popping into Publix on my way home from work to pick up a day or two’s worth of meal ideas, and now that’s simply not possible. Publix is now limiting access to the store; we have to line up outside and a person is let in as one comes out.

I’ve realized that for the foreseeable future I’m going to have to plan out a week or more’s worth of meals, order online, and pick up my groceries. Again, it’s a small thing and lots of people already shopped a week or so at a time, it’s not a major hardship, so I don’t want to sound like such a whiner, but yeah, I’m whining a bit.

I’m sitting at a ergonomically dubious desk in my home office for hours, doing a job I still dislike, and by mid afternoon I’m not sore, exactly, but I just feel…weird, physically and mentally. I’m very, very lucky to still have an income, and I know it, but this is hard. It’s not so much the job, or even working from home, but it’s the lack of normalcy in my non-working hours that is draining me mentally and emotionally.

So, what’s good right now? My daughter found a u-pick blueberry farm in Clermont, where u-can’t-pick right now, but you can order online and make a pickup appointment and they bring them to your car.

2 lbs. of blueberries is a lot of berries, even when they’re absolutely huge. In addition to just eating them, I’ve made two loaves of lemon blueberry bread, and I think today the last of this load may go into blueberry cobbler. That sounds easy and comfort-food-y.

Southern Hill Farms also has peaches. Another trip to Clermont may be in order.
Lemon Blueberry Loaf – it’s a good, basic recipe, though not as lemony as I’d expected.

So, enough whining from me, I know why people read this: HOW ARE THE DOGS???

After months of no issues, Sophie’s intestinal woes are back. I picked up metronidazole over a week ago, it has done nothing. I’m pretty sure she’s fully blind now, and I swear she’s depressed about it. She sleeps a lot. Her appetite is still good and when I can persuade her to go outside she enjoys a leisurely sniff of all the things, but yeah, this is hard.

My poor girl.

Gidget is fine, but in dire need of grooming. I’m questioning her alleged Chihuahua – Yorkie heritage; she’s starting to look like an Ewok. I can give her a bath and trim her face and “sanitary region” a bit myself, but yeah, she’ll be in dire need of professional help in another month.

What’s tiny and fluffy and smells like a musty old rug??

We’re all hanging in through this weird, weird time. I hope you all are too.