Monday, January 12, 2015


Today the doorbell rang at 4:30AM. When Jim came back upstairs after dealing with the door I asked who? what? He told me, “It was the security guard. Dustin left the garage door open last night.” “What a jackass,” I said. I didn’t mean Dustin. I meant the guard. Seriously? 4:30AM? That’s your company’s policy? It’s two and a half hours before daylight and you think it’s a good idea to ring a damn doorbell and wake people up? 4:30 isn’t exactly prime robbery and rapery time. I think we were gonna be okay until one of us left for work.

• The phone-as-a-hotspot thing is a boon for someone who doesn’t work in an office. I’m online! Wherever I go! Mostly! (Don't forget I live in Northern Nevada where in some places because it's so remote we actually use carrier pigeons.)

• Usually I keep Soph’s coat really short. Yorkies have hair not fur and I don’t want her hair to get tangled and matted. But when I took her in to be groomed this weekend I told Brandi to keep her long and just trim around her eyes and paws. She looks like a lil’ ewok when her hair starts getting long. It’s a fun change, and now Dustin won’t see her with the short, short cut and say in his special, reserved-for-dogs-under-7-pounds-voice, “Sophelia where did your hair go? Who made you look so ugly?

• On the afternoon of January 5th I got to pet a live raccoon. He was on a leash and when I reached out to touch his surprisingly soft coat he came up on his hind legs and put his charmingly creepy raccoon hands on my knees. “Oh, I’m so sorry! He’s getting your nice slacks dirty,” the handler said and pulled him back. “My pants look better with raccoon handprints on them,” I told her. And then I texted Jim, “I got to pet a raccoon. This is going to be a good year.”

• On Saturday while I was at yoga training Jim and Katelynn spent the day up at Heavenly in South Lake skiing in what little snow we’ve got right now. Just the two of them, a little daddy/daughter date. Lucky Katelynn. Still, as an adult, daddy/daughter dates are the best. Even if it’s just down to Sonic to get a soda I relish the time that I get my pa to myself. Cute as can be, these two had a great day:

I recognize the relationship that Jim has with his adult daughter. It’s like what I’ve got with my dad, which is a good, good thing. We love having Katelynn and her husband over whenever we can. My dad (and my mom!) feel that way too, especially now that they have a son-in-law they respect and know adores their daughter. We see that in Nathaniel. He adores Katelynn and has her very best interests in mind. He’ll protect her from distress in any way he can. We love that. Katelynn trusts her dad. As a daughter with a dad I love and respect and admire and trust and all the good things, I love seeing Jim and Katelynn get to enjoy that same fulfilling relationship.

• Saturday evening we spent with Jim’s other adult kid. Dustin turned on a documentary about Ed Templeton, an influential skater and artist—in fact, there’s some of his work printed permanently on Dustin’s body. Both Jim and I were enraptured. Skate language is basically not English and I love learning about that world. Saturday night my dreams were about Ed Templeton and his wife, Deanna, and then all day Sunday I had the song “Mr. Templeton” in my head and I was thinking about the rat in Charlotte’s Web.

• During the documentary Jim and Dustin sprawled on the sectional and I lay spread eagle on the fluffy shag rug on the floor. I wore my long puffy down coat, yoga clothes from earlier in the day, and my gray Sorel boots. I looked like a cartoon. For Christmas Jim got me the cutest snow boots in the history of Ever and sometimes I have to wear them around the house because the weather is too nice for snow gear and the boots are too perfect to just gather dust in my closet.

• Whenever I finish an audiobook and the recording says, “Audible hopes you have enjoyed this presentation,” I reply, “I have! I really have! Thank you!”

• I admit this with a certain amount of shame . . . I say kill all the coyotes, hawks, and owls. I am a vegetarian because I love animals. The animal that made me this way is my small dog Sophie. I love her more than anything else not human and more than nearly all humans. There are coyotes behind our house. There are hawks that fly over the yard. I sometimes hear owls at night. And I hate all of them. My creature is tiny enough to be stolen by those big predator birds and nasty coyotes. That happens around here. I like my critter more than I want them saved. I know how bad that sounds, but she is my person. 

I suddenly love beets. I credit my spiralizer. This super simple recipe in particular. Now I’m trying to learn more ways to prepare beets. I so far prefer the golden beets merely for the fact that they don’t stain my hands. (No, I'm not going to wear gloves.) When we stopped by Whole Foods after yoga yesterday to stock up on beets—and Halo Top!—Jim put the root vegetables in our cart and asked me what they taste like. “The ground,” I replied. That night Dustin took a bite of my beet dinner and said, “It tastes like dirt.” Yes, I agree. But sophisticated dirt.

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