Bittersweet

Because today's workout was to be aerobic only I eschewed the gym and took my best old hiking, jogging, and therapy buddy and squirrel chaser extraordinaire for a hike in Northwest Park in Windsor, CT.

This picture was taken about 4 years ago.  My boy is grayer now, but then so am I.

But it used to be that I would say "want to go for a DRIVE, Jesse?" And he'd leap up, tail wagging.  The tail still wags, but leap is a slower maneuver.  So is getting into the backseat of the car.  I had to give him a leg up.  He still yodels as loudly as before, making the people we pass laugh hysterically.  And his jump from the car is still pretty spry.

But we used to take the harder trails.  He would run ahead, and traverse the path following scents.  And he would turn to look over his shoulder with an expression that clearly said "Can't you go faster than that?"  I didn't take him nearly as often as I should, work and 3 bad knee injuries got in the way, but I could have done it more often than I did.

Today our roles were reversed, just a little.  We did one of his favorite trails, the bog and Braille trail, but I slowed my step to match his,.  I could see he wasn't up to swinging over to the wetland forest and rainbow reservoir trails as we have so many times before.  We took an easier path, and then sat beneath a tree in the meadow.

Now, he did have a busy day yesterday, and he doesn't rebound as fast as he used to (but then, neither do I, and I can hear his deep voice saying to me, yeah mom, if you were a dog you'd be dead by now!), so that explains a lot.

And while I miss the puppy he was I adore the grand old dog he is.  Funny, people loving, always expecting the best in the people he meets and seeing me as I should be, not necessarily as I am.

 So we will go for walks in the woods until he makes it clear he'd rather stay home.  And I will happily match my pace to his.

What are they thinking?

As I sat in my bathroom shaving my legs the mysterious lady in black

sauntered into the room, jumped into the window and shot me a puzzled look from her bright golden eyes.  "What the heck do you think you're doing?" she seemed to say as she watched me carefully removing my hair.

You know, I do wonder what they think of the things we do.

We are pathetically lacking in hair, a protection from the elements.  So what do we do? Scrape it off, put on these ugly drapery things, fuss about having nothing to wear, rush out and come back with bags of more ugly woven things to cover our pathetic hairlessness.  If we would only let it grow, our hair might work, although based on the look from my lady in black she doubts it.

We are truly pathetic hunters.  We let perfectly good protein in the form of mice and bugs wander unharmed and come back with still more bags filled with meat and green things wrapped in plastic.  If we did capture the things on our own why didn't we eat them where we caught them rather than running the risk of a bigger hairless thing taking them from us while we carved them up or removed the leaves and wrapped thin in that clear stretchy stuff on weird trays?

And getting a drink of water is a large, drawn out process for us when there are plenty of pools to drink from throughout the lair.

As she sits beside me, on my white knitting, I know the mysterious lady in black has concluded that I, at least, am a hopeless case.

The "Smart" Life - or -The Future Is Bleak

I happened to overhear a discussion on technology and the digital life.  The speakers were earnestly discussing the advances in "smart phones", "smart workout equipment", and "smart cars" that could drive themselves and avoid accidents.

Wouldn't it be great, they mused, if your "smart" devices could someday communicate your needs to each other, a technologically integrated approach to life.

Now that caught my fancy, because I did study SciFi and Science (an integrated approach to learning) in college and I began to think of the possibilities.  No more angst riding out the traffic jams on the Tappan Zee bridge:

Sit back, play Tetris and leave the driving to Google.

I already know the advantages to a smart elliptical:

I can set for Cardio, Fat Burn or Total Exhaustion.  And a smart fridge?  That provides useful information and tracks my food?

Cool.

But wait: what if my smart elliptical orders the smart phone to call the fridge and refuse access to dessert because I didn't burn enough calories?  Or what if the smart car refuses to start because walking is healthier?

And that fridge that suggests menus based on the contents?  I can just hear it's little robotic voice saying "your choices today are wilted lettuce salad with desiccated cucumber or Cap'n Crunch and spoiled milk."

Maybe I'm not quite ready for the technologically integrated life,  in fact, it sounds a little dystopian to me.

Visiting Knitting Heaven

Sick of a white baby sweater for a friend (yes, it is washable) and a white lacey bolero for my mom and suffering from something akin to Snow Blindness I took myself off to heaven?

Also  known as my largest and bestest LYS.  Okay, I'm not from New England, so unlike a lot of my neighbors my local area des extend further than a 10 mile radius.  I'd seen a pattern for a blanket,

Mountain Laurel Counterpane Blanket by Kim Brody Salazar.

Lovely hexagons  of flowers and lace assembled into a rectangle.  If I bought a number of harmonious colors I could knit a motif when snow blindness struck.

 Cascade 220 Superwash and Plymouth Encore were both on sale for the last day of the 40th Anniversary Sale.  I loaded my sister and boon traveling buddy into a car and off we went.  I knew the largest selection of sale yarns are in the warehouse, so I went straight back there.

After about 2 hours of dithering I finally settled on bluish-greens and purples for the blanket.  And a kit for a gradient I'm not sure what:

That should cure the snow blindness.