End of summer

I know that scientifically the last day of summer is September 21st, but everyone knows that it really ends on Labor Day weekend. Today is the last day of August and tomorrow is Labor Day, and when this weekend ends, summer ends.

Of course, we'll still have lots of warm days. Every day this coming week it's supposed to be in the low 80s. Between 80 and 83, but no hotter, and in the low to mid 50s at night. In other words, perfect weather. The kind you dream about all year, but only get little bits of here and there (if you live most places, that is). Everything is still madly green, with only the tiniest indications that the season might be changing. A few yellow leaves here and there. Nothing much. But the hummingbirds are going. We had a lot of rain this past week, multiple heavy thunderstorms, and I think a lot of little birds just decided it was time to leave. Usually they're here for another week or two, so I'll keep my feeders up and keep watching for them, but hummer season is almost over.

To make me feel better, the magpies have come down from the mountains and are back in the neighborhood. Squawk, squawk, squawk. So happy to hear them. I need to put out the suet I bought them last spring and then forgot about.

This has been quite a week. I think what's really been blowing my mind is Teen A's conversion into Mr. High School. Last year, when he was at TEC halftime, he hardly seemed aware of his regular school. It was just a place he had to go for a few hours every morning, sit through boring math and language arts and history, and then he could zip off to TEC where his real life was taking place.

This year, after dropping TEC, he has fully embraced the life of a high school senior. While Teen B has always done this, he doesn't have a group of friends to hang out with. Teen A suddenly has a whole crowd of friends, and with them he is doing everything that high school seniors traditionally do. On Thursday, he left right before dinner and came back a few hours later with his face painted. He'd been to the football game! That's the first high school game either kid has ever attended. Then he went to bed, because he was getting up at 4 am to go to "Senior Sunrise" (in which the seniors hang out on the football field and watch the sun come up, and then eat snacks). Why 4 am, when the sun was going to rise at 6:30? Oh, he had to pick people up and "do something." I set my alarm and got him up. Then I reset it for 5 am, to get Teen B up, but he decided to skip the "Sunrise" and sleep in until 7:30. No buddies to meet up with, so it's not as much fun. 

Teen A came home that day with the Prius decorated in classic high school texts, such as "Honk for the Senior!" Teen B later rubbed off everything except the word "Senior." Sigh. Interactions between the two of them are getting worse and worse and I don't know what to do about it.

But Teen B can surprise me too. I think it was Friday he said to me, "Can I drop Astronomy and take Culinary 2 instead?" He's taking Culinary 1 this semester. Astronomy is a 1-semester class that he's signed up to take next semester. My first reaction was "No!" because I think of him as a science guy, so of course he should take science. But then I thought, what the heck? If he's enjoying Culinary 1, let him take Culinary 2. So I said sure, if you want to. We'll see what he ends up doing. The key (for me) is to stay flexible, follow their lead instead of dictating their choices.

This weekend, the "fun" is continuing. Saturday morning Teen A got up at 2 am (I set my alarm, but he actually got himself up) in order to meet his buddies to climb Longs Peak (the closest 14er to us). We had gone shopping the night before to buy energy bars and other such supplies, and he'd actually gone to bed very early (he was tired from the previous day's activities). I had read that it typically takes 13 hours to do Longs Peak, but he was home again by 12:30. Considering that we're about an hour from the trailhead, plus he had to pick up and drop off friends, maybe he started the hike around 3:30 and finished around 11? So, only 7 and a half hours on the trail? Something like that. I asked him if they made it to the summit and he said no, but almost. I don't know what that means (I've never had the slightest desire to attempt Longs Peak). 

Today, because classic teenagers never rest, he and his buddies are off on a camping trip! Thursday night (after the football game), he came in our bedroom and said, out of nowhere, "Where's a place to camp that's free?" Huh? After extended arguments between me and Rocket Boy about whether Forest Service campgrounds are free (they're not), and whether it's OK to just pitch a tent any old place (it's not), Rocket Boy suggested the cabin. And so, that's where the kids are off to today. I stayed out of the preparations, but Rocket Boy got very involved, digging out piles of our old camping gear and offering endless pieces of advice. I can foresee SO many problems with this expedition -- but guess what? There's no cell phone service anywhere near the cabin, so Teen A and his friends will just have to cope by themselves.

I'm imagining the boys' (I assume they're all boys, but I don't know that) reactions when they see the inside of the cabin (because despite their plan to camp out, I'm betting they're going to go inside to at least look around -- Teen A brought the key with him). Rocket Boy's old toys are still spread out on the floor: the castle, the auto body shop and parking garage. My dollhouse stuff is on shelves on one wall. And then there's Clifford's collection of antlers, high up over the door. It's a pretty crazy place.

I feel so relaxed, having Teen A gone for at least a day. No chance of any sibling knock-down drag-out fights while he's gone. The house is peaceful. I'm going to try to get Teen B to do some homework with me, and maybe we'll do something fun, like go to a movie. Or maybe we won't. Whatever we do, it will be fine. I expect to sleep well tonight.

*** 

In my August reading post, published a couple of days ago, I said I was sure I wasn't going to read any more books this month. Well, I was wrong. I went to the main library yesterday to get my first few books for September, and (as usual) saw something else on a shelf that looked good, so I got it too and read it immediately. The book was It. Goes. So. Fast.: The Year of No Do-Overs by Mary Louise Kelly, who is a journalist for NPR, and it's supposedly about her elder son's last year of high school, kind of a memoir about the last stages of motherhood. The book looked great and I zoomed through it. And it was awful! So disappointing. I looked for other reviews of the book, to find out whether others had the same reaction, and many did. Most people's issue with it was her incredible "privilege" or "white privilege," as some people called it, which she seems to have almost no awareness of. For example, her sons attend a private school in Washington, DC. She never names it, but she does say it's one of three schools on Cathedral Close, so I looked that up and discovered their school is St. Alban's. Which costs $58,000 a year for high school. She does say that her husband makes more than she does, and I looked him up, and he's a high-powered lawyer, so he probably makes several hundred thousand dollars a year, and she makes whatever she makes, and they live in a big house close to the British consulate and the South African consulate, and and and. 

Even when she goes shopping, she mentions that the "eager shop assistant" comes to her dressing room and offers to bring her "some gorgeous new dresses" to try on. Do you know how long it's been since I've tried on clothes in a store where the employees actually check on you and offer to help? I'm not sure, but I'm going to say it's been 30 years. When I was in my early 30s I used to shop at Leaf & Petal, in Palo Alto, when I was home, and I think the employees did come to the dressing room and offer to bring alternative outfits. OK, so I have experienced that. But not for a LONG time.

We won't even discuss her beach house on Nantucket. Of course, Rocket Boy and I own a cabin in the mountains. But we didn't buy it! It's ours by accident! And there's no way I could hole up there to work on a book, because I can't breathe up there, I don't know how to turn on the water, there's no heat source except for a wood stove that would suffocate me... (hmm, the lady doth protest too much methinks?)

And then there's the fact that supposedly this is a book about devoting herself to her elder son, since it's his senior year, but all the interesting parts of the book are about her career and we hardly hear anything about her son.  

But what actually bothered me the most about the book was that it seemed deceitful. Near the end she reveals that her husband requested that they separate (they divorced later that year, after the book was finished). She says

Things have been difficult for a long time, and we both bear blame for this...

But where was that "difficulty" in the rest of the book? Early on, when she talks to him about deciding to write this book, she says, "Nick eyes me coolly." But that's the only bit of conflict I noticed. And yet, at the same time, I kept thinking (before getting to the separation part), where's her husband in all this? At one point she writes about a big storm and how she woke up at 3 am and went to find her younger son trying to take care of their dog, who is scared by the thunder. And later she goes back to "my own bed." And I kept thinking, where is your husband? Was he on a business trip? If so, why not say that? Do they sleep in separate bedrooms? If so, why not mention that? If something like this happened in my house, both Rocket Boy and I would have been awakened by the storm, and we both would have gone to help the kid, or if only one of us went, the other would have told the other all about it afterwards. But Mary Louise Kelly seems to be operating entirely on her own. And that seemed weird. 

This is not a book about my marriage. That's a story for a different day, a different book entirely.

But the thing is, a book about her kids growing up and leaving home IS a book about her marriage. It's a book about a family, and she completely omits the part about how the couple who run the family are falling apart. It might have made the book sadder, but it would have been honest. I think if she couldn't have written that part, she shouldn't have written the whole book. Which might have been the best idea.

*** 

OK, enough of that. Time to face the week ahead. It's a short week, because the kids get both Monday and Tuesday off. Teen A will stagger in at some point tomorrow (we hope) and I know he wants to do homework on Tuesday. I'm also taking the Baby Kitty in that day to have his nails trimmed.

Wednesday the kids go back to school (for a little while -- Teen A has only one class that day and Teen B has only two), and Sillers has a vet appointment. And then Thursday and Friday and the week will end.

Saturday is the famous Martin Acres Pancake Breakfast ($10 for a single, often underdone, pancake, and maybe a glass of orange juice if they haven't run out yet -- it's a fundraiser, lol). We never miss that. 

And that's what's scheduled. But in addition, since it will be September, I have all sorts of plans. I want to start working on my novel again every weekday. I want to do some pruning, since it's compost pickup week, and I haven't pruned anything since... June?... May? I want to start cleaning for the book group, who are coming here on the 10th (the following week, but it's going to take a long time to get the living room clean). Of course, unfortunately, I still feel like crap. It was another week of yuck. Still Covid? Just a reaction to the drug? I simply do not know. I see my doctor in a few weeks, but unfortunately the appointment was put off until, I think, the 18th. Maybe I'll feel better by then. Maybe not. 

Anyway, I think I'll try to do all this stuff in September, but I'll also try to cut myself a little slack. It's good to be ambitious and make plans, but when you're an old lady, like me, you have to be kind to yourself too. We'll see how it goes. 

Reading post: August

It's almost the end of August, and I know I'm not going to finish any more books before midnight on Sunday (I'm on page 173 of 636 of my current book and it's going slowly). So I'd say it's time for a reading post. I read a lot this month, perhaps mainly due to Covid. I had no energy to do anything but read!

The books I drew from my "Briefly Noted" envelopes this month were The Great Displacement, a "survey" of places in the USA that are being destroyed by climate change, and Termush, a Danish novella described as "hypnotic."

• The Great Displacement: Climate Change and the Next American Migration by Jake Bittle (2023). So, this was a somewhat interesting book, although I didn't learn a lot from it. I already knew about the fires in California and how Arizona uses a lot more water than it should. I knew less about flooding on the East Coast. In the last chapter, Bittle talks about what's REALLY going to mess up the world: not fires or floods, but heat. That should have been highlighted, not stuck in the back. All through the book I kept thinking about how I would have written it differently. But it's still worth reading, even though he talks about the progress we're making on reversing climate change -- ha ha, this was written & published before Trump won reelection... oh well. Guess we're screwed.
  
  
• Termush by Sven Holm, translated from the Danish by Sylvia Clayton (1967/2024). This was a really odd little masterpiece. Only 105 pages, in 31 short chapters, it tells the story of some rich people who paid a lot of money to be able to hole up in a fancy hotel that's been made into a bomb shelter. Because the nuclear holocaust has happened and the rest of the world is toast. What could go wrong? What couldn't? In the last chapter, when the hotel guests are now fleeing in a yacht into the Atlantic Ocean (I assume the hotel was on the coast of Denmark), the narrator notes: "They are having trouble with the engine." Ha ha, of course they are. Even though you think you know all this already, the novella does bring it home. If we get into a nuclear tit for tat, there will be NO ESCAPE. We are all doomed, even rich people. Even Elon Musk.

Best books of the 21st century so far

In August I planned to read some more books off the New York Times list by authors with last names beginning with the letter M. There were five books in that category that interested me, but I had trouble getting a hold of most of them. I wanted to read Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, but it was always out. I wanted to read The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai, ditto. I wanted to read Hurricane Season by Fernanda Melchor, but even THAT was checked out. So I read a few things I hadn't planned to.

The Return: Fathers, Sons, and the Land in Between by Hisham Matar (2016). This one I did want to read, and it did not disappoint. Matar's father, an outspoken critic of the Qaddafi dictatorship, was kidnapped in 1990 and held in a Libyan prison for many years, probably dying there. This memoir details Matar's attempts to find out what happened to his father. One of the blurbs on the back of the book says it "reads as easily as a thriller"; another says it's "structurally thrilling" -- well, no. It's fairly slow. But it's interesting. I didn't know much about Libya before I read it, and I would have liked even more background than Matar provides, but I know a lot more now. And just thinking about what this must have been like, to have one's country upended like this, one's relatives imprisoned... It's unimaginable and thought-provoking.

A Mercy: A Novel by Toni Morrison (2008). For some reason I had the idea that this book made it onto the list simply because it was by the great Toni Morrison, not because it was any good. But it is good. It's set in the late 1600s, in what was to become the USA, and the characters include Black and white and Native people. I read somewhere that it's "Beloved lite" but it isn't lite. It's creepy. It's maybe Beloved distilled, because it's very short, only 167 pages. There's a lot packed in those pages. In some ways the characters seem like archetypes and in other ways they seem very human. I will confess that I misunderstood who the book was addressed to, finally figured it out in the next to last chapter, and then had to go back and reread sections to be sure I'd understood it. I probably won't read this again, but it is a masterful book.

Runaway by Alice Munro (2004). OK, this one I actively did NOT want to read, because of the revelations about how Munro's husband molested her youngest daughter and yet she stayed with him. But the library had it, so... And it is so good. Some of the 8 stories are better than others, but oh man. Munro at her finest. The title story is horrible -- I was sorry I read it. I'm trying to forget it. That goat. But some of the others. The one that broke my heart was "Trespasses," about adoption, among other things. There's a 3-part sequence of stories all about the same character, as she ages, and the third story in that group, "Silence," was so creepy, because it's about a mother whose daughter ghosts her, permanently (as Munro's youngest daughter did her, when Munro refused to believe or support her). 

You know, we always have the idea that there is this reason or that reason and we keep trying to find out reasons. And I could tell you plenty about what I've done wrong. But I think the reason may be something not so easily dug out. Something like purity in her nature. Yes. Some fineness and strictness and purity, some rock-hard honesty in her. 

To me, this read like the worst kind of self-deception. "It's not me, it's her -- her purity." No, Alice, it was you. It was your husband and then it was you, supporting him in his crimes.

I'm sort of glad I read this, simply because it helped me to understand Munro better. And it cannot be denied -- she was a wonderful, wonderful writer. But the betrayal of her daughter... All her writing career she wrote about betrayals, and then to do that... I wonder what her legacy will be, in the end. What will people think of her work in 50 years, 100 years? I don't know.

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee (2010). This is the other book that I really wanted to read, and it was checked out too, but I requested it and it came fairly quickly. It's long, detailed -- but man, so interesting. Mukherjee calls it a biography of cancer, but it's really a history of the scientists who researched cancer and the doctors who tried to develop cures for same. The most interesting aspect is the fact that they didn't work together -- in fact, they basically ignored each other. The doctors went roaring ahead with possible "cures" without understanding anything about how cancer worked, and the scientists gradually figured out how it worked, but the doctors ignored their results. It sounds as though now they're finally working in tandem, but hmm, you kind of have to wonder if anything important is still being ignored. Apparently an updated version of the book is due out later this year, with "four all new chapters" detailing what's happened since 2010, so I will definitely want to read that.

So I've now read 51 of the books on the list of the top 100. I've reached my goal of reading 50, so I guess I'll set a new goal: 60! I'm very pleased with my progress. I think I will read almost all the books on the list that interest me by the end of the year.

 

Other reading

I started the month off by reading Original Sin: President Biden's Decline, Its Cover-up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson, for which I'd been on hold for a few months. Wow, what a terrible story and how awful to have to relive it from this new perspective. But it should be read. We need to know this story. Rocket Boy read it too -- I thought it was very important for him to read, because he really liked Biden and did not think he should have stepped down after the debate. (His opinion changed after he finished the book.)

 

Then I read a mystery, the last one Eleanor Taylor Bland published, called A Dark and Deadly Deception. When you look at lists of her books, there's one more, but it apparently was never actually published, and then she died. This book ends with an evil character plotting revenge on Bland's detective, Marti McAllister, so clearly there was supposed to be another book. I'm so sorry this one was the last. It wasn't her best mystery, but it was good, and I really enjoyed the whole series. I had to request this from the Longmont library. I wonder if anyone besides me is still reading her books.

 

Because I was home with Covid and couldn't go to the library, I searched the to-be-read piles by my bed for my next book: How Do You Live? by Genzaburo Yoshino, translated from the Japanese by Bruno Navasky, originally published in 1937. My cousin Marina gave me this book when we were there last summer. I put it aside, figuring the perfect time to read it would arise at some point. It's an odd book, the inspiration for Hayao Miyazaki's last Studio Ghibli film, "The Boy and the Heron" (the Japanese title is, in fact, "How Do You Live?"). But the book isn't anything like the film. It's essentially a philosophy textbook for teenagers, giving them advice on how best to live their lives, and the main character in the film is reading it -- that's the connection. Apparently the book was important to Miyazaki when he was young (he was born in 1941). I liked it, kind of. It's not really a novel, but it offers a lot of good advice. And, amusingly, it turns out that Teen B is going to have to read this, or part of this, in Language Arts this year. How convenient of me to have just read it!

 

Still at home, still without access to the library, I pulled another book off the piles: Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor (originally published in 1971). I think I found this in a little free library. A really sweet, sad book. It's about an old woman (around 80?) who goes to live in a hotel in London, which must have been the British equivalent of assisted living, sort of. She meets a young man, a writer, who uses her as the inspiration for a novel he's writing about old people. And the book just goes through her last year, showing what she and the other old people have to deal with. A quote, from the musings of one of them: 

"It was hard work being old. It was like being a baby, in reverse. Every day for an infant means some new little thing learned; every day for the old means some little thing lost. Names slip away, dates mean nothing, sequences become muddled, and faces blurred. Both infancy and age are tiring times."

Elizabeth Taylor died of cancer in her 60s (this was her last book), so she never actually experienced what she was writing about, but it seemed accurate nonetheless. I liked this and am going to keep it.

 

The last book I finished was one I had hoped would last forever. Secrets of the Blue Bungalow: More True Tales of Family Life in the Outer, Outer, Outer, Outer Excelsior by Kevin Fisher-Paulson. It's his third and last book, because he died of cancer last year. I read it very slowly, over several months, just a couple of entries per night, and only on nights when I needed some comfort. Wednesday was kind of a bad day around here and I needed more comfort than usual -- so I finished the book. Darn. I might just have to start over again at the beginning -- or maybe I'll read How We Keep Spinning again first (not the triplets book, that one is too sad) and then come back to this one. 

"Know when you're in over your head. At some point we all lose it. For me, it was probably the afternoon that Aidan got his head stuck in a staircase, but each of us gets to give up at some point."

"Twenty years ago, I was one of those "Why-can't-that-mother-keep-her-child-quiet-on-the-airplane" people. Time has humbled me."

"Next time you see a child screaming while throwing a bowl of spaghetti at Olive Garden, do not assume that the father/mother is a failure. Assume that she/he is doing their best. And when you yourself are the parent sitting on the curb watching your son and the Chief of Police argue, remember the words of Oscar Wilde, "We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." 

I wish they'd publish one more book of his columns. Blue Bungalow only goes until the end of 2020 and I know he wrote until just before he died in September 2024. I know if they did do another, it would be a sad book, all about him getting cancer and whatnot. But I'd still buy it and read it, absolutely.

 

Next month

In September I will try to read two more books from my "Briefly Noted" envelopes and a few more from the NY Times list, focusing on books whose authors' last names begin with "N-O-P." There are two or three that interest me, and if I can't get those, I could always try for some of the books I missed this month. But first I must read the next book group book (we meet on Sep. 10th, here), and then whatever else I find that strikes my interest. 

Oh, and I'll try to finish No Ordinary Time, my 3rd FDR book, which I worked on this month (that's the book I'm on page 173 of) but did not complete. It would be good if I had time to get to at least one more president this year.

Late August

We're having a break from the heat, and oh, it is so greatly appreciated! It's cloudy -- foggy, even, up on the mountains -- and cool, and just nice. Of course, cloudy days tend to make me depressed, so after a few more days of this, I may not feel so great. But for now I'm enjoying it.

This was kind of a rough week. It started out well, though, with Back to School Night on Monday. I just love getting to see the kids' classrooms, meeting their teachers. I started out in the Culinary classroom (Rocket Boy went to Physics), but then both kids have 2nd period off, so we went to the Culinary class again, so that Rocket Boy could see it. They redid the kitchen part over the summer and it's SO nice. I'd love to cook in there. (Except, of course, that I don't love to cook.) 

Then I went to Pottery, which was interesting, while RB went to Band, and then we both went to Teen B's Senior Lit class, followed by Teen A's Life Management class. Then we split up again, Rocket Boy going to Geology and me going to Teen A's Senior Lit class, and then I went to Algebra 2 and he went to Statistics. When it was over, I was tired! All that up and down stairs and running around. That building is a maze! (The school is celebrating its 150th anniversary this year, so...) The second floor in particular is nuts. But so is the first floor. And the third floor has sections that don't connect, so you have to go outside and run around the courtyard (or rather, the walkway two floors above the courtyard) to get to a different entrance. You would think I would have gotten the hang of this school by now, but I haven't. And Rocket Boy of course was a student there, but they've changed things and added on, and he couldn't figure out what was going on either. Well. He did better than I did. Anyway, it was fun.

After that, we walked over to the Teahouse and had a belated anniversary dinner. Teen A joined us, but Teen B just asked us to bring him a Rainforest Iced Tea, which we did. Rocket Boy and I both had the saag paneer, which was different from the last time I had it, Teen A had Korean pan noodles, and he also had dessert (apple strudel). I wanted dessert but was too full, so I just enjoyed watching Teen A munch.

I should have taken my shot that night, but thought I was too full and might get sick, so I waited until Tuesday morning after the kids had gone to school. Big mistake! I will never do that again. The shot made me so tired that I went back to bed and slept for four and a half hours. And even then I had trouble getting up and functioning. I slept a full 7 hours Tuesday night too. 

But I think I am just tired, it's not just the shot. I think it must still be Covid, honestly. My stomach is much more upset than normal, I'm tired all the time, and going for walks is an ordeal. I accomplished basically nothing this week, just lay in bed and read. Cooking was awful too. Tuesday I made crepes, as I'd been planning to do since before I got sick, and they were a disaster. Rocket Boy had to take over and fry them, because I kept messing them up. Wednesday we had fried pizza sandwiches, which are very easy, and Thursday we had frozen pizza, because I was too tired to stand up and cook. Friday I made squash tacos, which are kind of a pain, and I complained and swore all through the process.

Now I've had two nights off (we went to the Taj last night and got Culver's takeout today), so tomorrow is the start of a new week and I am going to try to do better. But I'm also going to try to think of easy things to make. It's going to be very pleasant all week -- high 70s, maybe 80 one day, lots of clouds and rain. So I could even make a casserole one night. Easy stuff.

We have one more week of August and then we move into September. In September I'm hoping to pull myself together and start getting more things done. For example, I'd like to go back to doing at least one political thing each week. I want to work on the files. And I want to start writing again, especially working on my novel. The one I'm working on now (or was, before summer started) takes place in November, so I'd like to get the draft done by the end of November. Then maybe start the December novel, which is also kind of bumping around in my head. But to do any of that I will have to have a little more energy. I'm hoping that the cooler weather, kids back to school, recovery from Covid... all of that will combine to kick me into gear. Maybe.

I see my doctor in September -- the 12th, I think it is -- and I'm going to ask her if maybe I can drop down a dose of the Mounjaro, from 10 to 7.5 mg. That's what people do when they're done losing weight, to facilitate maintenance. I'm not done losing weight, at least I hope I'm not, but I'm done feeling this bad. I'll see what my A1c is this time and what she thinks about all this.

Rocket Boy has lots of energy -- he has clearly put Covid behind him. He's started working on cleaning up the patio, which really needs attention. He's been washing bikes and things, in preparation for giving them away. He actually managed to get rid of our old bathroom vanity & sink (for free on craigslist). Multiple people were interested in it. Next will be the old child/youth bikes that are too small for everyone.

If I could dredge up some energy from somewhere, maybe I could go back to doing yardwork every day. I haven't done any since early summer. They keep yelling at homeowners to get rid of their junipers. I was going to work on that five days a week all summer. I think maybe I did it twice?

I should finish this up, since I can't think of anything very interesting to write about. Homework calls, and then maybe it won't be too late for a walk. And then we need to start the shower parade.

Oh, something else we did this week -- actually this afternoon -- was attend the grand opening of the new Hillside School building, up in Gunbarrel. They outgrew their old building and moved into this one. And now I heard they might move again, into yet a larger building. We toured the new building -- it seemed very nice. Each place that school moves to is nicer than the place before it. 

I got a little teary during the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Before we left, Teen B asked me why we were going (Teen A didn't want to come, even though he was the former student). I said, well, when Teen A was in fourth grade, he couldn't read. Hillside saved our lives (with a little help from Aunt Nancy). Hmm, he said.

The last first day of school

Yep, we've now had it. The last first day of school. Of course, there's the first day of second semester still ahead, and then the first day of college, perhaps, but I still think this was the real last first day. And I was sick with Covid and couldn't really appreciate it. But it happened, it's over, and now the semester is underway.

I was so sorry not to be able to do lots of fun things that last week before school started. I wanted us to go out for ice cream at lots of places, go see "Freakier Friday," go do SOMETHING fun before summer ended. (Note that "us" would have mostly meant me and Teen B; Teen A was off with friends.) Instead we stayed home and I spent a lot of time in bed. Or just sitting still, playing with my phone. I did some reading, but it was hard to concentrate. My head hurt, my eyes hurt.

But you know, I'm not sure the kids (i.e., Teen B) were so disappointed. They don't really want to do stuff with their mom. And a few ice cream excursions would not have made up for the fact that we didn't do anything special all summer. So it may not have been the tragedy I thought it was. That's good to remember.

We had an earthquake on Friday morning, the second day of school. OK, not a REAL earthquake -- this is Colorado, not California. An emotional earthquake. Teen A came home from TEC at lunchtime to announce that he had dropped OUT of TEC, and would now be going to regular high school fulltime. Taking physics. He is really serious about this college thing!

Of course, I'm not 100% sure he would have done this if they hadn't cancelled internships for the fall. What he was initially expecting to do was have an internship as an electrician, but at the end of the year they announced that nobody could have an internship until winter term. So he was going to spend another semester in the "Mod" -- the modular-housing assembly building that he worked in all last semester. I thought the Mod was really cool, but apparently he had gotten tired of it. "It's the same thing, over and over," he told me. "So boring." I thought, hmm, sounds like most jobs. Sounds like probably whatever job you end up getting even if you go to college. But I didn't say that. 

I was impressed at his initiative. Thursday night he asked me who his counselor was. This is a complicated question, because his old counselor had left the school and his new counselor was on maternity leave. They sent out an email explaining which remaining counselor was covering for which group of the maternity leave counselor's students, but I couldn't remember who it was. "Check your email," I said. Amazingly enough, he did, and he must have sent the counselor an email that night, because he met with him Friday at lunchtime and set all this up.  

So now this means that he and Teen B will drive to school every day together -- if they don't want to take the bus. Which they probably won't want to. The bus is FREE, and much more ecofriendly. But they won a parking place in the senior lot in the lottery -- lots of people didn't -- and I paid $50 for it -- so I guess they're going to drive every day. It's fine. We walked to school all through elementary, they took the school bus all through middle school (when they weren't home during the pandemic), and they took the city bus through the first three years of high school (well, Teen B did, and Teen A took it in the mornings). So I guess it's OK if they drive, this one last year.

I keep thinking I'm done with Covid, but I'm not, quite. That is, I feel much better -- my head has cleared -- but I'm still having intestinal problems, and I'm still shaky. The shakiness was weird. When I started going for walks again, on Wednesday, I couldn't believe how hard it was to control my legs. We just did a little walk that night, maybe half a mile (I didn't bring my phone), and then went a little bit farther on Thursday (just .65 mile). I skipped Friday, because we went out to eat, but yesterday I did a normal walk, 1.48 miles, and I was really feeling it when I got home. I had the energy to walk that far, but my legs couldn't keep up. I lost a couple of pounds during the week of illness, and I keep having diarrhea (and one episode of vomiting), so I'm probably undernourished or something. Dehydrated? Even though Covid is a respiratory illness, and I certainly had the congestion and all that, I don't have a lingering cough and I never felt short of breath. So that's good.

What was really hard about the week was keeping up with the responsibilities of home life. Every morning I would work on chores, but I did not have the energy to do very much. I would do one thing -- start a load of laundry, put away the clean dishes, feed the cats -- and then go back to bed and rest, for a long time. In the evening, trying to finish up (put away the clean laundry, load the dishwasher, feed the cats) was so so hard. Because my head hurt, I couldn't bend down to clean the litter boxes. I lost my sense of smell, so that helped, but they looked worse and worse. Finally I pointed this out to Rocket Boy (who hates hates hates cleaning the litter boxes) and so he did it, once. (They normally get cleaned every 2 days.) Yesterday I finally cleaned them myself, for the second time in over a week. Poor cats.

And I could not even deal with the THOUGHT of dinner, much less stand up for the amount of time it would take to cook it. I handed it over to Rocket Boy, who recovered much faster than I did. But he struggled with this. I think he did salmon, rice, and broccoli for three nights, then he got a pizza, and then he was out of ideas. "No one likes what I cook!" he complained. "Nobody likes pot pie, nobody likes French onion soup..." It was in the 90s -- I thought he could have thought of something other than pot pie. But he had no ideas. Sigh. This week I will cook. I didn't eat any of his dinners, too nauseated -- I'd have a yogurt, maybe -- so it will be good for me to cook and eat some real food.

Yesterday, before going to the grocery store for the first time in 9 days, I filled a compost bag with the contents of the vegetable and fruit crispers -- stuff I'd bought right before I got sick. (I did this while Rocket Boy was working in the yard, so he didn't have to watch.) A whole clamshell of beautiful red strawberries, completely covered in mold. Cabbage, lettuce, parsley, green onions. Other stuff. Oh well. Start again tomorrow.

I realized yesterday that I was missing my mother so much during this time. It's not that I wanted her here to do things for me -- no no no no no. I wanted to be able to call her on the phone and say, "I'm sick and the litter boxes need cleaning and Rocket Boy can't think of anything to have for dinner! I threw up in a wastebasket and my stomach hurts and I have diarrhea and my legs shake when I walk!" And she would have been so sympathetic. She would have said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," and she would have sounded like she meant it. And after I'd complained a little more, I would think of something that was funny about it, and we would laugh together, and pretty soon we'd be hysterical. That was me and my mother, and I miss it SO MUCH. I do not have anyone in my life who can be so so sorry -- and then laugh with me. I will probably never have someone like that again. All I can do is remember my mother, recreate a call with her in my mind. That works, if I remember to do it. I forgot, last week, just remembered yesterday. I should have been talking to her in my head all week. That would have helped.

Yesterday, trying to catch up, I spent time with each of my boys, separately. In the morning, Teen B reluctantly agreed to go with me to the credit union and the grocery store, because I was not sure I could do it on my own. He does not like going to the store with me, and yet we almost always have a good time. We discuss what we see on the shelves, he makes fun of me. I buy him ridiculous things that he does not need. We laugh. 

And then in the afternoon, Teen A and I went shopping for school supplies. Teen B claimed to only need a composition notebook and one folder, so I said he didn't have to come. But Teen A needed a fancy graphing calculator for Algebra 2, plus various other items, so I made him come with me. We went to Office Depot and just had a grand old time. Both boys enjoy making fun of me, and I admit I sometimes act a little more decrepit than is absolutely necessary, to inspire them. "Mom! Can you walk any slower?" is a common complaint. Also "eat any slower," "do [fill in the blank] any slower." Teen A tried to get me to buy silly things for Teen B, such as a purple folder (I got him an orange one), a teal notebook (I got him a black one), and a sparkly pink pen (I passed). We made fun of the pencils. When we were done, he suggested Jamba Juice, so we went there. A really nice outing.

I think the most important piece of advice I ever got from my parent support group is "the relationship comes first." Don't worry about making sure your kids do everything right. Put your relationship with them first, whatever that ends up meaning. Stay on good terms. Let them know you love them more than you care about them doing something or other. I think I have probably the best relationship with my kids that it's possible to have. It's certainly better than the relationship I had with my mother at this age, although I think she did the best she could. Teenage boys are easier than girls, I think. I mean, not that mine are easy, but there isn't the drama. And they don't identify with me in the way teenage girls identify with their mothers (and are consequently horrified by them). My boys enjoy making fun of me -- they don't think, euw, why does she look like that.

OK, good enough. Onward with the week ahead. Back to School night on Monday, and then a regular full week of classes. I hope I have the strength to do what I need to do. It's going to be in the 90s every day; 95 on Wednesday, 96 on Thursday. One foot in front of the other. We'll get through it.

Covid, revisited

I can't believe we all have Covid again. The last time was in May of 2022, right before the kids graduated from middle school. Just like that time, Teen A got sick first and passed it on to the rest of us. I didn't even realize he was sick at first (this time), just thought he had allergies. He does NOT like to "give in" to sickness; he powers through as if nothing were happening. Anyway, after a week or more of Teen A coughing and sneezing, Rocket Boy came down with it. This was maybe Wednesday? And he said, "I think I have Covid." "Why would you think that?" I wanted to know. "I just do," he said. "It feels different from a regular cold." So he took a test (we still had some in the linen closet, probably expired but he doesn't believe in expiration dates). And it was positive, in fact, very positive. A very dark line. Oh, shit.

We weren't really sure what you're supposed to do about Covid, in 2025. Are you supposed to quarantine? For how long? Does it really matter? Should we bother wearing masks, since apparently only N95 masks are really that effective, and we don't have any, just stupid little Target masks? We still have a lot of cloth masks, because Sillers likes to carry them around, but they're all dirty and anyway, I don't think they work. But are they better than nothing? Who knows?

Rocket Boy called his doctor's office and they handed him over to a triage nurse who got him a telehealth appointment with his doctor an hour later. He and Dr. Johnson decided he did not need Paxlovid. "Well, you're 70, but you're pretty healthy, except for the lymphedema," I heard Dr. Johnson musing. I wanted to call out, "No, he's not!" but I knew that would annoy him. So I accepted the inevitable. 

Thursday he was very sick, spent a lot of time in bed sniffling. That's MY bed, the very small bed that we share, so I got full exposure. We had planned to go on a college tour of Metro State on Friday, the four of us, and RB still seemed to think he could go. "No, you are NOT going," I told him, firmly. "You are very sick with Covid. You stay home and rest." I went to the grocery store that day and stocked up on things like eggs and bananas. Wish I'd done a little more shopping, but oh well.

Of course, Teen A almost certainly has Covid too, but he's had it for a long time, so I decided he was past the official quarantine period (which is 5 days, apparently). And I was still hoping that Teen B and I weren't going to get it, so I ignored the fact that we were in the pre-symptomatic stage (which is an extremely contagious time, apparently) and the three of us went to Denver on Friday. We took the Prius v, because it has better air conditioning than my car, and Teen A drove, very well. He still likes to speed, but he is much better about keeping a safe distance behind other cars, since his accident. 

Metro State is on the Auraria Campus, one of three colleges that share the space (the other two are CU-Denver and a community college). Rocket Boy went there for a year, in the early 80s, I think, and he also taught there for a couple of semesters at one point, so I was really sorry he wasn't with us. We parked in the 7th Street garage, as we had been directed, and put in the code we had been given for free parking (just like at CSU). There was a young woman there, ready to direct us, but it turned out she was from CU-Denver and wanted to direct us to the wrong place. When I told her we were supposed to go to the Jordan Student Success Center she said, "Oh! I don't even know where that is!" so we had to find it on our own. Fortunately, we could see it from the garage.

Metro State doesn't have a huge fancy auditorium for college tours to begin in, but that seemed appropriate, since it's a lower-cost school. Instead, we were directed to a simple room with chairs that had been set up. At CSU we could have had coffee or tea, at CU-Boulder we were offered water, but at Metro we could have water, tea, hot chocolate, and snacks! Little packages of oreos, candy, things like that. There were also flavored syrups. I dispensed some cold water for myself and added some raspberry syrup, managing to spill it all over the counter (and there were no napkins to clean it up). Still, I thought it was a nice touch, the snacks and all.

Unlike at the other schools, there were only a few people on this tour. I think when we finally got started walking, we totalled 20, including some small children. Maybe 8 prospective students in all. But it was 92 degrees outside, and I don't think Metro attracts a lot of out of state students, so it makes sense. One of the last people to arrive was -- surprise! -- a friend of Teen A's, one I hadn't met before. I didn't meet him on Friday, either, because he disappeared right at the end of the tour. The mystery of Teen A's social life.

Before the tour, a nice young Latina woman gave a presentation. At the other schools, I think someone in charge of admissions was the speaker, but at Metro we were addressed by a counselor -- who was also a recent graduate. She mentioned that she had been a first-generation college student and also a first-generation high school graduate! -- so it was a different vibe. In general, I liked the vibe better than at the other schools, especially snotty CU. I was pleased to know that this college exists, with its 55% students of color and almost 60% first-generation college students. She told us that Colorado residents with at least a 2.0 average are automatically admitted to Metro, so that was a plus (for Teen A). Yes, weirdly enough, Teen A has suddenly gotten interested in going to college. He wants to go to Metro and study aviation science. I don't know where this came from -- a friend? I don't question it, I just go along with it.

I liked our tour guide too, a bouncy young woman in mismatched tennis shoes (one orange, one green), with very long legs in short shorts. She was a music major and had a lot of stage presence, but not in an obnoxious way. Just very pleasant. She dragged us all over the campus in the heat, sweeping us back into air-conditioned buildings as quickly as possible. I forgot to take any pictures until the very end (this shows mainly our parking garage, as we were walking back towards it), but I think it's an attractive campus. Urban, not green and gorgeous like CU and CSU, but still nice. I wish I'd gotten a picture of the great view of the Denver skyline that you get at one point. I was just too hot. I even forgot to use my walking app, but it's fine. We walked enough.

I don't think Teen B was very impressed with Metro. He wants to go to CU, and our tours of CSU and Metro have not changed his mind. I just hope he can get in -- I'm not sure he can. I still think the plan to go to a community college for a year or two and then transfer is a good one. But we'll see. And as for Teen A, he was all in for Metro, asking me when he could apply and how could he get there on the bus, etc. 

On our way home, we went to Starbucks (for Teen B) and Jamba Juice (Teen A and I got smoothies -- I shared mine with Rocket Boy later). And that was all I wanted for dinner. I think Rocket Boy, when he finally got up, had leftover mac & cheese. I don't know what the others had. I took a nap.

And Saturday morning I woke up with a sore throat, so -- hello, Covid. I spent the day quietly, reading chapters of my latest library book interspersed with household chores. I did two loads of laundry, ran the dishwasher, cleaned the litter boxes. That kind of stuff. For dinner we got takeout from the Nepalese restaurant near us. They have good food, but for a moment I wasn't sure I should eat anything, and I couldn't quite finish my rice. 

Today, all I've had to eat is a piece of coffee cake from Starbucks, and I am most definitely not hungry. But yes, we went to Starbucks. I felt so guilty about it, too. I tried to get Rocket Boy to go instead, but Teen B refused to go with Rocket Boy ("He always tries to order a Florentine and they don't know what it is!") (in my experience, Rocket Boy always orders a "decaf chai," but same problem, since they don't have it), so to keep the peace, I went. I was going to wear a mask, but I hate masks, so I didn't even do that. I thought, oh well, the people who work at Starbucks are young, they won't get that sick. And at least I'm not coughing or sneezing yet. But it was a bad call.

So anyway, what a way to end our not very fun summer vacation! I'll need to quarantine at least until Thursday, so that means no trips to ice cream parlors, etc. Oh well. Back to School night is the 18th, and we SHOULD be healthy and able to attend by then.  

Of course, Teen B is sick now too, and that means he should not be going to Picture Day on Tuesday. But I'm going to let him go anyway, assuming he feels up to it. Probably at least a quarter of the students also have Covid, since it's surging in Colorado and Teen A has probably been dispersing it across his wide social network over the past two weeks.  

In the meantime, I'm going to go sit in the living room, read a book from the piles by my bed (NOT a new book from the library, because I am NOT going to the library this week), and watch my beautiful hummingbirds. And maybe take a nap.

Today is our 23rd wedding anniversary -- and we're not going out. In sickness and in health, as my sister says. Maybe next year. 

 

Welcome, August

And so now it is August. Month of heat and dryness (sometimes thunderstorms, too). Month of summer vacation ending (twins go back to school on the 14th!), but summer continuing. The nights are getting longer, though, and sunset is coming earlier -- 8:12 tonight (7:33 by the end of the month). I have to be sure I get out the door for my walk before 8 pm, or else I get stuck walking in the dark. 

It's funny how our neighborhood feels less safe as the sun goes down. Mountain lions and bears start to roam (though I think mostly later at night.) We don't have a LOT of homeless people in our park, but there are some, and they start gathering as the sun sinks lower. I've never been hassled by any of them, but they still make me nervous. It's different if Rocket Boy goes with me, but he usually doesn't -- he prefers to go swimming. And Teen B hasn't gone on a walk all summer.

There are also kitties here and there. I took a picture of these two on a recent walk because I thought they were so cute, with their matching rainbow collars.

The walks have been paying off for me, in terms of weight loss. I haven't done a Mounjaro report since the beginning of July, so it is time for another.

• July 1, 2024: 251.4
•  
• Jan. 1, 2025: 228.8
•  
• July 1, 2025: 217.8
• August 1, 2025: 214.8 

The weight continues to come off, little bit by little bit, a few pounds a month. I figure I just have a few more months to lose, and then it'll stop, because I don't get as much exercise in the winter, and at some point Mounjaro stops working as a weight-loss drug, usually after about a year and a half. It'll still help lower my blood sugar, but I won't keep losing weight. There's a feeling of urgency, then, like OMG, must lose as much weight as possible before it stops working! But I know I can't do that. I can't diet. It would be nice if I got below 200 pounds, but if I don't, I won't. I'm really happy with my weight as it is, even though I'm still large. 

This week, Teen B and I went shopping for clothes for him, and we started at Kohl's, because that used to be a good place to find inexpensive clothes (and it would be a change from Target). He tried on at least a dozen pairs of shorts, but didn't find anything he liked, so we ended up at Target after all. But while we were at Kohl's, I made him wait while I tried on a few things. I picked out a couple of tops and a pair of pants in size 1X (I've been wearing mostly 2X for a long time). The pants fit, but didn't look good, and the tops fit higher up, but were tight around my stomach. I can't seem to lose that bulge. So that was a little disappointing, but oh well.

I'm still feeling totally crummy on this dose, though. This week, in addition to the nausea and fatigue, I've been feeling like my blood sugar is too low. Not sure what's going on. I'm shaky and keep almost falling over, things like that. But if I eat too much I get sick. Something to ask my doctor about when I see her in a month. 

We visited another college this week -- CU, on Tuesday morning -- just me and Rocket Boy and Teen B, since Teen A had toured it last year and thus wasn't interested. Since it's just down the street, we took the bus (which Rocket Boy almost missed, because he was primping). Teen B and Rocket Boy thought I was having us get off at the wrong stop, but I was right. It's the stop I used to get off at when I was teaching and when I was a research assistant. We walked over to the new CASE building and took the elevator to the fourth floor. There was a large balcony/deck with a buffalo statue which most people took pictures of while standing next to it. Teen B refused to stand next to the buffalo, so I took a picture of it all on its lonesome.

Then we went inside and listened to a long presentation about how wonderful CU is. I'd say there were close to 150 people there. They didn't call out exactly where people were from, but the presenter asked people to raise their hands if they were from the eastern time zone, central time zone, pacific time zone, etc., and there were people from everywhere, and I think some internationals too. It was a weirdly foggy, humid day, and she asked the central time zone people to please take the weather home with them.

Then we broke up into six groups to tour the campus. Our tour guide was a creative writing major from southern California. She had a curvy body and was wearing bright pink shorts, so I kept thinking "follow the big pink butt." I wondered whether she had worn those shorts on purpose, because it was actually very helpful. The tour groups kept running into each other and I would get mixed up, but then think, "big pink butt," and there she'd be.

I just can't take CU seriously, having taught there. Apparently lots of people really want to go there, though. The presenter told us how many people apply, and it was some enormous number. She also said, very helpfully, that if you have any C's or D's or F's on your transcript, you need to EXPLAIN WHY in your personal statement. In other words, they don't want to accept anyone with grades like that and you'd better have a good explanation. Teen B has 2 C's (both in English) and 2 D's (both in social studies) on his transcript, and up until now I don't think he cared. Maybe now he'll care, but it's a little late. 

Even though CU is a smaller, more compact campus than CSU, we somehow walked much further on our tour. I still don't really understand how that was possible. We walked almost 3 miles! Uphill and downhill and all over. Then, when it was over, Rocket Boy suggested we go to Doug's Day Diner for a late lunch. Teen B just wanted to go home, so he jumped on a bus, but Rocket Boy and I walked to the restaurant (bringing our total for the day to 3.2 miles) and had lunch. And then we walked home, which was another .85 mile, so it was a good walking day.

I've given up on the idea of taking a short vacation at the end of the summer. However, I'm hoping we can do one more college tour this coming week, of Metropolitan State University in Denver. Teen B expressed mild interest. I don't think he wants to go there, but it would be good for him to see it, as a relatively inexpensive, relatively nearby option. Of course, it's going to be sooooo hot. Upper 90's all week, very August-like. I need to plan some cool meals, that don't involve cooking. Maybe we could eat out a lot.

I'm still trying to do at least one political task each week, but I'm struggling. Last week, as I had planned, I wrote a short letter to Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, thanking her for the great work she's been doing, standing up to the conservative members of the court. But this week was harder. I got so depressed every time I even thought about doing something political. Rocket Boy wanted to go to a protest on Saturday, but I was too depressed to go along (he ended up not going either -- he went on a tour of the Governor's mansion in Denver, but when he went by the protest later it seemed to be mostly over, so he just came on home). 

I did do one political thing this week -- it probably doesn't "count" -- but oh, who cares, if I say it counts, then it counts. I read a book: Original Sin: President Biden's Decline, Its Cover-up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson. Oh My God. What a depressing book. And yet, I think every Democrat needs to read it. It lays out, in excruciating detail, how Biden declined, physically and mentally, and how everyone lied about it, covered it up, pretended it wasn't happening, fiercely criticized anyone who mentioned it -- basically pulled a Woodrow Wilson on the nation. That wasn't supposed to be possible anymore, in this age of everything being revealed. And the right-wing media was certainly yelling about it. But the "mainstream media" basically protected Biden, because nobody wanted Trump to be elected again, and in doing so they ensured that Trump would be elected again. 

It was a huge failure on the part of people who are supposed to be nonpartisan, and of course on the part of people who are partisan -- the Democrats who supported Biden, his team. His team lied to him, gave him incorrect and incomplete information, because they didn't want to lose their own power -- they wanted him to stay in the game and win, even when it was obviously impossible, so that they could stay in the game. Jill Biden and Hunter Biden also lied to him and encouraged him. The authors imply that this was self-serving, too, although in Jill's case it may have been mainly done out of love. In Hunter's case, he knew he would have nothing left once his dad left power, and sure enough, apparently now he's homeless and has been disbarred (I didn't get that from the book, but from Wikipedia).

I've been really depressed for the last three days, reading that book. But I'm very glad I read it. It opened my eyes about a lot of things, and I hope it opens a lot of people's eyes. I'm as guilty of suppressing criticism of Biden as anyone. I remember watching Seth Meyers on "A Closer Look," as he pointed out how weird Biden looked at a concert when everyone else was swaying to the music and Biden was standing still, like a statue. Don't criticize Biden, I thought, don't give Trump ammunition. That's what everyone was saying, thinking. And look where it got us. Trump in office again, ruining the country. 

If everyone had been honest about Biden, if he just hadn't decided to run again, we could have had a normal primary and gotten an electable candidate, and Trump might not have won. The authors show how Kamala wasn't an intrinsically bad candidate, but she was in a very difficult situation because (a) she only had a few months to put together a whole campaign, and (b) she'd been loyally supporting Biden all along, so now she had to turn around and say, oh no, I lied, he really was incompetent and he made some very dumb decisions, and she couldn't do that, she didn't have time to carve out a new political space for herself. And of course she was a Black woman, but that wasn't the only issue.

I don't know what I'll do (politically) this coming week. Probably no standing outside with signs, in this heat, but I'll see. I need to keep looking for opportunities.

One thing I definitely need to do is refill the hummingbird feeders. The one that the hummers like best is almost empty! I should do that tonight. I also need to water all my flowers daily, because of the extreme heat.

Rocket Boy and I took a huge bag of old clothes to Goodwill today. Mostly the twins' clothes, mostly pants and shorts, but some shirts, and a few of my shirts that I decided to admit were too big. I'm kind of afraid of giving away clothes -- what if I get taken off this drug, what if I gain all the weight back -- but I think it's OK to get rid of a few. Otherwise the tiny closet gets too crowded. Rocket Boy unpacked another big box (he's got his old Montero full of boxes from St. Louis) and pulled out a whole lot of blankets and pillows, so we have to find a place for them. Ha ha.

My book group meets on Tuesday, and we have that trip to Metro to plan, and maybe Teen B and I will go to a movie, if we can think of anything to see. And I don't know what else. A lot of ice cream, maybe. The last full week of summer vacation!