Sorry. It was a hell of a week, work-wise and lack of sleep-wise. I came home wiped out and unable to string words together. Murphy isn't helping.
Murphy's not doing so hot. He's bright-eyed and doesn't seem to be in any pain or anything, but it's pretty clear he isn't hearing very well, and I'm not even sure how much he can see. My daughter came over for a few minutes this evening - we were splitting a bag of chia seeds and she was picking up her half. (We are both all about the healthy diet this month.) Murphy didn't hear the door open, didn't hear us talking, and even when he came around the corner from the office, he just stood there, looking at me, oblivious to the new person in the room until she got his attention - it took a few tries of speaking to him.
When he finally realized she was there he got very excited, hopped around, rooed, and looked very alert and much more like his old self. But yeah, he's slowing down tremendously.
And (if you've stuck around this blog, you know poop is a regular topic) the other end is still not doing so great. He's not having accidents, he's eating with enthusiasm, he's not vomiting, so he's not in any sort of crisis, but he's just...not doing so great. I re-started the prednisolone, which always brings things back into balance, but this time it's not working. I'm giving it another 24 hours to work its wonders before I call the vet and see if we need a change of meds this time. All the pred is doing is giving him a severe case of old man bladder that makes him wake me up in the middle of the night.
3 a.m. pee calls on top of a very challenging and tiring work week = no blogging energy.
Work is...good. Challenging, crazy (development always is) but I still love the people and love the Boss Man. He's a RIOT, and incredibly supportive. I told him I was preparing to embark on a much needed series of home improvement projects, and was hesitant to start because we had so much going on, and I am tired just thinking about how to manage it all. He just said briskly, "You'll be a project manager managing two job sites - you'll go back and forth between here and there. You can handle it." Seriously. That's my boss of not quite three months yet, telling me I can bug out during the day to deal with contractors at my house as needed. He also was concerned about my dogs when we had our after hours meeting with the city - "Did you get home to give them a relief trip?"
Still pinching self. It's a relaxed and supportive environment like that that makes the crazy of the job so worth it.
Remember when this was a knitting blog, so very, very long ago?
I bought yarn this weekend, on the last day of the WEBS anniversary sale. Other than small amounts of practical stuff for baby things, it was the first yarn I'd bought since I'd left Asheville - I realized this when I pulled up my account and it had my Asheville address. I bought some Cotton Supreme in bright red, and Cascade 220 Superwash Sport in Westpoint Blue Heather, enough for two sweaters for ME.
I don't have a firm plan for the cotton yet, but the wool is going to become Hey Girl. The yarn is heathery blue, and that sweater looks very wearable, and of course she had me at top down, minimal finishing. (I'm doing the more fitted yellow version.)
I realized this week, when I was stressing out at work and having work-related dreams before being rudely awakened by a dog that had to pee, that I'd fallen off the wagon on several healthy habits. I'd gotten too distracted for affirmations and meditation, and it'd been many weeks since I'd touched knitting needles. Knitting IS one of my forms of meditation. That's why I gravitate toward simple, well constructed designs. I don't ever, ever want to be frustrated by my knitting. I have my work life for whatthefuckery and frustration (also laughter and camaraderie, but yeah, there's a lot of swearing involved). I am always amused by people on Ravelry who are all about seeking "new challenges" in their knitting. I suspect that if they walked a moon in my moccasins - well, they wouldn't make it a moon. They'd be eaten by an alligator in the first week.
So it's a new month, and at the end of the month I turn 55. I don't feel old, but objectively, I know I'm no kid anymore, and I can't afford to be half-assed about taking care of myself. I'm making time to cook, making time to walk, and somehow, some way, I will make time to knit, at least a few rows here and there. And blog. Every day in June? Not bloody likely. 3x a week is a realistic goal.