Tidbits
When the boys were here for Christmas, they played outside quite a bit. Molson was right along with them, too. The neighborhood dogs would show up to join in on the fun. There's one little dog that's obviously a mix, but we don't know his name. Cute as a bug and friendly, too. Youngest stepson took right up with him. Oldest SS liked him, too.
One day BZ comes in from work and had been outside with the boys and the dogs. He told me that the boys found the little dog's name on his collar. I was happy to hear that so we would have something to call him by. BZ said, yeah, it's Rabbits. I looked at him and said, Rabbits? Then it hit me...I think they saw "rabies" instead. :) We now call him Rabbits.
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So today is my last weekday of freedom. Feel sorry for me? If you're like my family, the answer is "hell no!" Don't blame you. I know I've got a wonderful job, but I still have to have SOMETHING to bitch about. :) I've got 40 pages left on the appeal. I got sidetracked yesterday...yes, by games...by other transcript requests. I'll be delivering those today and cashing the checks. That's the best part.
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BZ will be doing some traveling during this three-week term. His boss's boss told him yesterday that he wants him to travel next week...to the same location he'll be at the following week. Boss's boss was down here for the week while boss was away. Hopefully boss will not make him go both weeks. I'm not holding my breath though. Boss's boss is quite persistent and thinks he's always right...and funny and interesting. I've been a witness. :)
I know BZ can't help the timing, but I still get a burr up my butt when I think about it. Molson will be cooped up in the house from the time I leave until I get in from court, which can be pretty late sometimes. On average it will be about ten hours he'll be in the house. He's done it before and I know he can, but I just hate it for him. If I worry this much about a dog, can you imagine how I'd be with a child?!?!!
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My dad had his second knee replacement this week. The first one was not a pretty scene. The surgery went fine, but my dad was not himself afterwards. He claims it was the morphine. We claim it was all the alcohol. He was talking out of his head and was very hard to understand, thick-tongued.
This time it's not AS bad, but there's still some of that happening. I called this morning to see how he's doing. His wife answered the phone and told me that about 12:30 last night, he got out of bed with the rails up and walked out in the hallway asking where's the hospital. I could tell she finds the humor in that along with the astonishment that he got out of bed unassisted and walked.
(Sidenote here...my dad wanted pain medicine BEFORE ever going into the hospital and wanted it strong enough to knock him out for two weeks afterwards. Low threshold for pain? I think so.)
It worries me that my dad is so disoriented. He's not so bad once he gets home, but he still has some of it. We're all afraid it may be the beginning of more. My dad won't believe it and never will. Time will tell.
So on that happy note...
Have a good one, Girls!!