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From Hell-oween to Thors-day.... - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
captainsblog
captainsblog
From Hell-oween to Thors-day....
Yeah. Still busy. Haven't gotten a word in here since two Saturdays ago. We've had ups and downs- of temperatures, client experiences (me), medical experiences (Eleanor) and events in the world at large.

Last Sunday began the final stretch of an annual Thing at the gym I go to called Hell Week. Show up five times in eight days and earn a t-shirt. And they do mean earn, John Houseman stylee, because these are not the ordinary ones. The first day, the 24th, included 23 straight minutes of rowing. I passed on that one. I did get the Inclines of Death on the treadmill one day, a full-out Tornado on the 29th (you rotate nine times between three stations over the course of an hour), and left potentially the worst for the last day, Halloween itself (coming late on a day I'd been up for an early Rochester court appearance): you pick your exercises from cards in trick-or-treat buckets, and do what they say. For the second straight year, I lucked out on these, getting all treats (still decent sets of exercise but nothing ridiculous) until my final pull in the final minutes was the dreaded "31 burpees" card. I could have come up short since time was called, but by then it was a mission, and I finished the damn things. Now to just hope the dog doesn't eat the shirt.

More about her later.

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Monday ended with the second-to-last of these Hells (I think that was Burpees Over a Vat of Boiling Oil Day;), but before that it was errands with and for Eleanor. Her car had popped a check engine code- one just generic enough to be kinda scary:

IMG_3397

On a Smart car, that could be anything from a brake failure to a speck of dust on the rear-view mirror, so I brought it first thing Monday and hoped for the best. That turned out to be "a three-day wait for a valve." We wondered where an electric car even HAS valves, and it turned out to be in the air conditioning system. They offered a loaner, but since that would have likely involved a Mercedes-branded tank, I passed and got a shuttle ride home- more or less in time to take Eleanor for her second post-op checkup. Doc was pleased with progress but didn't offer much of new horizons for her- walks, bike rides, any significant climbing or standing was still out, unless she wanted to go back to work the next week. He did, more or less, approve her to drive, so she took that first step Thursday when her car was finally ready and we went back for it.

First, though, I took her to a Buddhist meeting Wednesday night- and headed to a nearby cafe to take a crack at this year's NaNo effort. I've begun it maybe four or five times, and finished two 50,000 word short novels on two of them. This idea came weeks ago, re-germinated the night before (31 burpees will do that), and I wondered if it had 500 words in it, much less 100 times that.



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That was my first-night venue, and it proved to produce about 650 words. I haven't been back to it, after hitting my first conundrum around that mark and being kinda busy since, but it may yet come. My last effort died in the early days, only to roar back in 10,000 word bursts in the final week, so we'll see.

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I still need to do a full update on Entertaining Things, but we spent much of the next two nights catching up on and eventually finishing season two of Stranger Things. We loved every aspect of it- the writing, acting (especially the amazing kids), and constant homages to earlier works. One we'd heard of was Spielberg/Columbus's 80s movie The Goonies, so Eleanor picked that up for us to watch Saturday night.

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Yesterday, then, the clock moved allegedly back, the animals continued to bitch at the new earlier time, and other than the Bills being off, it was a usual fall Sunday around here. Eleanor went to chant, and I took Ebony to the parp! This time, though, I brought something "to go" with us:

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Puppy's become quite the picky eater in this, her 15th year. I've resorted to mixing her kibble with wet food just to make sure she gets enough nutrition (it also keeps the cat from eating and then horking her leftovers), but I drew the line when she turned her nose up at the treats we bought for her- Milkbone-ish ones after the rawhidier brand got recalled. No, dog, I am done putting peanut butter on your treats. So that's how I branded its box, and we weren't even out of the parking lot before Diesel, one of our Sunday morning regulars, laid claim to the entire stash:

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Of course, as soon as his Daddy gave him one out of the box, Ebony suddenly wanted one, too.

The hour turned rainy- a Golden puppy tried to play with all three of the grumpy old dogs in our group and wound up rolling in mud halfway to his collar- and we left a little early. That is, until a cute little poodle tried escaping the airlock front gate when we were all going out. I picked her up- no resistance, and she was tagged and even had a GPS sensor on her- and we headed back in to a far corner to find her daddy, hanging out with his buddies, oblivious to Ella having almost gotten away.

This whole experience, or possibly me and Mommy leaving her alone in the house for two whole hours, was so stimulating, Ebony decided while we were out that she needed some plastic in her diet:

Hanger

I ultimately found a good chunk of that hanger top, on the sofa and uneaten, but she still made the point about her dissatisfaction with The Help in this place.

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We ended the weekend at the latest Thor movie- rollicking fun- and today I had the first of my four straight early court appearances this week. I got my own car serviced, and a fun movie by last night's director now awaits.




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