My knee is a little bit less swollen today. That’s a plus.
I don’t think I slept great, but I also didn’t sleep poorly. Dreams confuse me. I know, you’d think dreaming was a new concept I just invented or experienced for the first time, and of course it isn’t, but I get hung up on this stuff. I hate dreaming. Some people like it. Some people LOVE it. Some people analyze it. I just think it’s annoying crap, and it confuses me more often than not.
Up at 6:40 with the boy. Berry Veggie down the gullet. Out to the garden we go!
The garden doesn’t look any different: tiny everything, like I’m growing for elves. Smurfs. Annoyingly-Tiny Smurf: he’d be my main customer, but he’d be disappointed in the quality. I should have paid more attention. I’ll get you, my pretty. (It IS still pretty. And it’s not like we don’t get vegetables. Or legumes. Or fruit, since that’s technically what a tomato is.) I fertilized a bit. The dogs did their business. It was my day to telecommute, and telecommute I did. Mostly phone calls and emails with a bit of document work, but the great thing about phone calls is they allow time for play: see “mute” button.
So I’ll skip the work descriptions. Liam and I went to Bella Bru as Angie was heading to the office. I had my usual: lemon poppy seed muffin, large mocha, and I got Liam a blueberry muffin and he washed that down with some watered down Berry Veggie. (Naked Juice, can I get paid to advertise for you? I’ll wear a t-shirt. You aren’t reading this. Dang.) A bit of fetching happened. I picked up dog poo in the yard—I filled a big bag with the dried goods. It’s not something we do often. It’s so much better in the rainy season, when the poo just goes away instead of drying out and lingering. Although Elba loves to eat it. And we’re still trying to figure out how the doves play into this grand game, but how’s that relevant? It’s not.
I just opened more windows because it’s gorgeous out. (We’re looking at the fewest triple-digit-degree days since 1982 this summer—only 5 so far, when on average we’d be at 27. Take that, Midwest!) I’m drinking a meritage from Mondavi.
Liam napped and lunchtime came and I didn’t have much to munch for lunch, so I caught up on yesterday’s blog as a break from the work day. I made a PB&J with a different J, which was blackberry, and as much as I like blackberries right off the bush, I don’t dig the blackberry jelly: it’s kinda seedy, and that’s just troublesome to me. It’s the same reason I don’t really like raspberries, period: those damn seeds. Like chewing on aluminum foil, if you ask me. But I needed food so I ate that down and there wasn’t much else so I filled my belly with water. I haven’t been burning the Calories I normally would, anyway. (Have I mentioned my knee?)
Liam didn’t nap but 2 hours and the work day started winding down so we headed to Whole Foods for some…foods. Things were bought. (I don’t only buy organic.) I ate almonds on the way home while Liam ate a banana. I have a plan for breakfast tomorrow—at least sorta.
I may have mentioned I’ve been in a funk lately, and today was especially funky, but that’s okay, ‘cause you make it through those days. You do, I do. You hope everyone does. For me, part of the funk is surely the lack of running and biking, but when Angie got home I went to the gym for the legless swim.
I swam about 45 minutes with the pull buoy between my legs the whole time. Anyone who knows what they’re doing in a pool probably either figures out I’m injured or thinks I’m a complete idiot for doing an entire workout with a pull buoy. I don’t know or care how far I went—the point was to get some cardio and release chemicals into my body that make me feel better. Mission accomplished. I wondered if the hot tub, steam room, and sauna (anti-ice) are bad for my swollen knee whilst I indulged in their warm goodness and I noticed no changes in my knee. It was good to get a workout in.
I got home and pulled a game-change for dinner. I was supposed to cook steaks and what-nots tonight, but I’d made a bunch of pesto earlier in the week and I was at Whole Foods and pesto pizza sounded SO good, so I bought some dough (I can just buy blobs of ready-made dough, then toss that all up and around and spread it out and have an essentially fresh crust without having to go through the effort of the home-made knead and wait and rise and wait) and some pepperoni and then eyed the beer section.
Happy anniversary, Stone Brewing Company! 15 years! And I’ve been drinking you for 11 years now, and you’re simply the best. The Anniversary Ale is out now, and it’s a 10.2% alcohol beast of a beer: an Imperial Black IPA.
“That’s a kick to the palate!” –Angie Golaski
I’m getting ahead of myself. I sat the beer out to warm up a bit and made the pizza. I went out to the garden and pulled a green onion and picked some purple beans for a salad. Salad included those things plus mixed greens plus shaved carrot plus multiple cheeses and sliced pepperoni and croutons and Italian dressing in my bowl. I ate half the pizza, which amounted to four slices. I thought about taking a picture the whole time, but I probably would have eaten that too, so I skipped it. I drank my beer. It was good. One must be careful with such a brew—buzzes can be imparted.
Baby in bed.
Sex (of course not).
Ew.
HA!
And here I am. The meritage. The PC. You. But you’re in the future. Opi slinks behind me toward her food. I can hear Romo crunching away on his. These are our cats. I folded clothes today. I put mine away, but no one else’s. No towels, either—they’re just folded and waiting. I talked to my sister. I was perplexed by an aunt of mine, but that’s nothing new—I just don’t get her. And no, it’s none of you, if you’re reading this.
So good night, good aunts. I don’t suspect you check out these posts, but I’ll wish you well, regardless. (And if you do read these, that sex thing really was a joke. That DOES NOT happen here.) You’re all such wonderful women. And you have a nice brother, too. I hope the times find you well.
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