Sheesh. My favorite prognosticator isn't thrilling me here.
I am crawling out from under the Crud; not 100% but definitely better. The weather is freakishly cold, (seriously - wind chill in the 20s this morning? In March?) but will of course swing to freakishly hot in a heartbeat, and still no rain. God, how we need rain. We had a brief shower yesterday - the Weatherbunnies wiggled their whiskers and tails and predicted Armageddon! Thunder and wind and rain, oh my! We actually got clouds, a lot of wind, and a brief, semi-decent shower. And today the fire danger flags fly once again. We are coming into brush fire season here in Paradise. That's the season that isn't Hurricane Season or Snowbird Season. Storms, fires, and Ohio Retirees in RVs - those are the true Florida seasons.
Murphy gave me some concern the last few days - he's not his bouncy little self. But, he's also the neurotic dog who will refuse to walk if a leaf is stuck to the hair on his paw, (no lie - he stops and holds the paw up delicately, and trembles). He started the last 3 or so days kinda sluggish and reluctant and unhappy, and ended them normally, so this morning I fought the urge to call in and schedule an emergency vet appointment. This evening he was fine. I think this freakishly cold weather is triggering a bit of arthritis in the nearly 9 year old (he turns 9 on the 24th) with bad knees. He is Suffering! He cannot endure the Pain! This evening he walked normally, and seemed fully recovered, and then he heard his fan club, the little girls up the street, and then he's Superdog, and pulled me toward them like a Clydesdale, so they can cuddle him and rub his tummy and tell him how precious he is! He appears to be okay. He's kinda like Woody Allen in a fur coat; which is disturbing enough when you think about it, but otherwise I think he's okay.
I think he needs another dog on a regular basis, to give him a shot from the Fountain of Doggy Youth, and remind him that he IS a dog. I may have to kidnap Dudley, for medicinal purposes. I'd love to have a puppy of our own, but my work hours make that impossible. But, if and when I am, ahem, free to deal with it, another baby may be in the offing. I want a baby, and Murphy needs a youthful doggy influence in his life.
And speaking of Medicinal Purposes - Girlchild has had yet another on the job injury. She has screwed up her back. I really hate to see this - as She Who Fucked Up Her Back at 19, while unloading trucks in delicate high heeled shoes (the glam life of high end designer retail), I am not happy that Girl made it 6 years past my record. But she's on light duty at work, and goes back to the worker's comp assigned doctor tomorrow. She's been hurting for a week, and it ain't getting better.
Knitting: I'm sorry I'm the world's most boring knitter. My current knitting therapy is an afghan from Patons Decor (yes, another one) in blues and creams and green. Not sure what I'll do with it. This is a damn springy yarn; I think you have to add about a 1/3 to the dimensions to take the bounce into account. I'm hoping this one will actually be human-sized. The last became a catghan. Not that he's not appreciative. He's delighted.