Rich has been under the weather for the last three weeks, and currently he's taking a nap... after all, he's been awake all of 2 hours after a full night's sleep, so he's due. I'd think he had narcolepsy except this is the way he always used to be on weekends while he worked.

Boring, boring, boring.

(I wrote that yesterday, and today he says he feels better. He only had one nap. Of course, he isn't going to do it now, since oh joy oh joy, FOOTBALL is on! LORD I hate this time of year! It used to be just weekends and Monday nights in season, now it's also Thursdays, Fridays, some Wednesdays, and three or four months more. I repeat: Boring, boring, boring.)

Anyway, now that it looks like we might actually be able to do stuff again (as long as it doesn't collide with Football) we can't, because you need a machete to cut through the so- called "air." I heard the newsheads refer to it as having taste and texture. Visibility is 1/2 mile on a good day, and the sky looks overcast, but it's just smoke. Might as well live in LA.

Rich's illness and my painful shoulders (I gave in and took a couple of pain pills today. Ibuprofen does strange things to me, but last night was really bad and I twisted the right arm badly today. Ow ow ow.) have had me feeling my mortality the last few days. I begin to think that my automatic assumption that I'll get all better one day is wrong. It's possible that painfree is as far out of reach as wrinkle-free. Maybe I really can't get strong enough to walk to Paradise Glacier or to the top of Lassen, or back up the Mist Trail with ease. It's highly likely I'll never have my feet looking normal again. I've accepted the crepe-y arms and the cellulite and the gray hair, but it's tough to think I'll never lose the double chin.

It didn't help to look at the Park District flyer where they were advertising Senior Drop-ins (day care) starting at age 55. Grumble. I want to shout, "we're young, we're young!" but you know, we really aren't.

Well, nevertheless, I'm going to keep on with the Tai Chi and walking (if I can ever push through the air) and trying, anyway. And I'm still assuming I can get the house better. I rearranged the living room yesterday and it's easier for the two of us to watch TV. (As if I WANTED to watch football!)

The pet update: Crombie was playing with her mouse Tuesday and Rich, sickie, was unable to concentrate on keeping track of Sailor. The dog couldn't resist, and took the mouse and pretty much ate it up.
I was playing with her with the laser pointer while the dog was sleeping. I just couldn't resist and put the red dot on the dog's back. POUNCE! This woke him up in a hurry and Crombie decided she wanted to be in the Kit Mahal box. Later, he was chasing her and she turned on him, all pointy bits, and he started looking in the corner, obviously trying to find Fitch, who was more fun for him.
She entices him, sauntering in front of him till he can't resist. She lets him chase her through the house but eventually ends up at the KM where she dashes into the box and then ambushes him through the porthole.
Earlier this week, when Crombie had her checkup, it took all three of us to hold her down to take her temperature, and she yowled at such a volume you guys probably heard her... it certainly sounded like the thermometer was red-hot, to hear her tell it.

Monica and Mark have decided to keep the other kittie they've been fostering, Shamu. This gives me four grandkitties, one granddog, and I refuse to count the grandreptiles.

One thing I did this week was go to another meeting, learn how to ask for an IEP (Individual Education Plan) and type up a nice request for Sam's foster care provider to sign. I even mailed it to the special ed supervisor of the school district. The idea is, inelegantly, to goose the system. Everyone wants the best for Sam, but the paperwork needs to be done.
I also talked to the foster-care provider about Sam's upcoming birthday and decided what I'll be getting.
The actual visit with Sam was just a walk over to the neighborhood library where we played with the computer and Sam read a little. Tonight there was supposed to be a school meeting but they postponed it because of the weather. The foster-care provider called me to tell me this, which I was happy about. We're obviously working together.