Grandsons and sports

Kegan, four-and-a-half, had his first Little League practice, and as the picture shows, he was deadly serious about it. He's a bit small for his age but he makes up for it in determination. His dad says he was really dialed in to what he was doing while the other kids were goofing off.  That's okay--I remember the days his dad used to stand and watch a soccer ball roll by him. But good for Kegan.

And Jacob got his soccer outfit yesterday. Nothing would do but he put it on immediately when he came in from school.

And this is how Jacob starts his school day Sophie insists on going out to the porch even before they arrive. Not sure how I'll explain to her that there is no school tomorrow. That's sort of how my days go--dogs and puppies and Jacob. This morning it was errands; tomorrow morning the grocery store plus I have to take my car in--the top is not going back down as it should. I never seem to get a block of time to write, but I did manage 1400 words this afternoon and may get another bit done tonight. The novel hasn't quite taken off in my mind yet, but the idea is to get that first draft down on paper.
A lovely day--high of 82--made it hard not to sneak out to the front porch with a book. I have a rather "deep" book to review: True Confessions: Feminist Professors Tell Stories Out of School. Got to dig into it.
And to think I worried about retirement, afraid I'd wake up in the morning and wonder what I could do with my day! I am now a big fan of retirement and wondering how I ever found time to work.
Ooops. Just ended the day with a water disaster. I was at the dining table in the back room, three feet from the back door, keeping an eye on Jacob and Sophie in the back yard--but not close enough. He turned the hose on her, then brought a muddy, sopping wet puppy in the house. Confession: I lost my temper. Jacob said I hurt his feelings. Well, forgive me, but I had to towel the puppy (who is still damp) and mop the floor. Now all is quiet--Jacob and family have gone home, Scooby's in his bed, and Sophie is definitely winding down, poor damp thing. Some days I'm more ready for sleep than others.

Kitchen mistakes--and successes

Tonight I decided to do some heavy duty cooking--make potato salad for tomorrow night, fix a lamb patty and beets and greens for my dinner. Central Market sells lamb patties that have mint and feta mixed in--delicious, but one patty is huge. I halve them and freeze, and sometimes even a half is too much. But tonight I ate the whole thing--I mean, the whole half. The beets on the other hand were a problem--not exactly a disaster, but...My habit it to boil them, then slide off the outer peel, slice, and reheat with the greens, which cook down quickly. Well, I boiled those beets and boiled them and boiled them some more and still couldn't stick a fork in them. Finally decided I'd let them simmer while I ate lamb and leftover summer squash casserole. When I finally went back to them, they peeled and sliced easily--at last.
Made a potato salad with lemon juice and oil, no mayo. The Bookish Frogs, a group of friends of TCU Press, had a potluck supper recently and my friend Sue Winter brought this--I loved it. Some of my friends don't like mayonnaise (which I consider a travesty, but there's no accounting for friends) and some are gluten free--this would be perfect for them. So now I have a head start on tomorrow's dinner, beets to nibble on all week--I may pickle some--and have had a good dinner.
Sophie and I marked a milestone of sorts today: I began to leave her out without being out there every minute. Freed both of us. I do small chores, then go back to check. Since I keep a leash on her--only way I can catch her until I can teach her to come, which she isn't inclined to learn yet--I have to check frequently to make sure she isn't hung up on something, but so far she's been fine. This morning I sat at the back room table reading the paper while she and Scooby played. I left the door open, and when Scoob tired of her he came in. I tried the same thing this evening, just before dark--but he came in right away, as if to say, "Enough is enough." Sophie has also--knock on wood since it's only nine--had an accident-free day. I think this makes four days. It may come from my not watching like a hawk to see if she pees and poops. Sort of the same principle that I'm doing better on my weight now that I'm not so focused on it.
Wywy is still with us. Sunned himself by the back door this afternoon and then yowled like he wanted food. In my excitement to get him food, I left the door open and panicked for fear he'd gone outside. But he moves so slowly I figured I'd find him if he did, and this evening, while I haven't seen him, I've noticed that he's eaten some, so I guess he's safely in his closet in the house.
Whew! In the midst of all that I actually did some work editing a young-adult manuscript, by another author, for my publisher. Got all mixed up with "Search and replace" in Word but the managing editor was able to guide me through it. I get along pretty well with Word, but someitmes it seems determined to make my life difficult. This time, if I center the chapter title, it goes back and centers the last lines of the previous chapter; if I fix that, it left justifies the chapter title. Go figure! And I searched for and replaced double spaces--many people still double space after a period as we were taught years ago in school, but it doesn't work today with new printing technology. Today it deleted two spaces from all the first-line indents--fixing that line by line would have taken forever and the thought had me tearing my hair, but that's what the editor showed me how to fix.

Falling into a routine

After two-and-a-half weeks with the new pup, my days have fallen into a routine--not a good routine, mind you, just a routine. In the morning I feed the cat, take the pup out until she pees, then lock her in the bathroom while I take Scooby out and feed him, Then back to the bathroom to brush my teeth, gather my towel, hairbrush and comb and the pup and proceed to the kitchen, where I feed her, wash dishes left from the night before--usually a wine glass and a water glass-and wash my hair. Towel my wet hair and comb it back to dry. The trick here is to get the pup back outside to poop without disturbing the older dog--some days it works, some days it doesn't.
Then on to the office, where Sophie, full of energy, runs amuck, chewing on everything but her numerous toys, and I spend a lot of time refocusing her attention. Aftr an hour or so, she runs out of steam and naps. My clue to hop up, make the bed, water the plants, etc. When she wakes, it's time to take her out again, and then depending on my day return to the office or put her in her crate so I can run errands.
Lunch and dinner provide similar juggling acts--take care of cat, older dog, and pup without letting them cross paths because they don't do well together. I'm hoping that will change when Sophie is older and not quite so full of energy--but, omigosh, does she have energy. I bless the days that Jacob and Jordan come and let her run wild in the backyard.
Am I writing? Well, not much. But I have finally, with lots of help from a friend, ordered bookmarks, and by myself I designed a flyer for the signings that will also do as an "If you're oiut of town, here's how to order" flyer. I'm keeping up with emails, writing blogs, including a few guest blogs, and generally trying to be professional about life. I've 2,000 words on a new novel, and every morning I think I'll get back to it, but it's like the weather forecasts: they keep telling us that in three or four days the temperature will go down into the upper 90s, but when the time comes, it never does. And now Hurricane Don is not only going to miss us, it's not much of a hurricane anymore.
I know my days will change and grow easier as Sophie grows older but right now I just keep reminding myself what it was like to have a new baby in the house. Except new babies didn't chew everything in sight (including my hands and feet) with sharp little teeth. Tonight, she destroyed the handle of a wicker basket, which I quickly took away because those little slivers could get in her lungs.
Sophie is truly an amazing, loving little creature--but she's not a placid dog. I said I wanted a dog with spirit, and oh boy, did I get her!

Tell me again why I wanted a puppy

I remember when I had newborn babies--I was tired all the time. Well, a nine-week-old puppy is like a newborn baby, only I'm forty years older and, yes, I'm tired all the time. Waking up is hard.
First of all, you simply can't train a puppy this young. For certain things,  you can train yourself--like taking her outside every hour. But there are complications there: I cannot take her in the front yard until she's four months old and has had her final parvo shots. Parvo is rampant this year, maybe because of heat and drought, so I'm doing all the protective things--spraying my shoes after going to a pet store, etc. A friend came to pick me  up for lunch one day and before I invited him in I asked, "Have you been to a public park? A dog park?" He looked at me solemnly and said, "Never in my life."
I can take her out in the back yard because my dog is innoculated and it's been long enough since I had the stray lab back there. That works really well--she poops and pees, as long as Scooby isn't out there. If he is, she gets so interested in him she forgets what she went out there for. And I can't take her at night--I'd lose a black puppy in the dark space on the side of my house. One night I tried a leash. I really went prepared for this--leash, flashlight, squeaky toy to which she will come. But she's so little, she just pulled her head out of her collar. There went that experiment.
I have heard of something called Puplight--a collar that has a bright light on the front, slanted so that it doesn't bother either pup or owner but still throws a good bit of light. I think I'll get one--but it's too soon.
Sophie was supposedly trained to a litter box filled with feline pine. She acts like she never saw it, never heard of it, hasn't a clue what to do with it. I did put those puppy pads down today, and I've had just a bit of luck with those. That may get better. Meantime I'm pulling up rugs in the places where she stays most.
A puppy playpen was recommended, so I bought one--not cheap. She barked and yelped and hated it for four and a half days and then discovered how to climb out. I did figure out a neat way to keep her in the kitchen today, using sections of the playpen, but only if I'm in there cooking. And she will stay happily in the bathroom while I shower, put on make-up, etc. But she definitely does not want to be out of human company.
I hate to crate her all the time--and she's too young really to understand that a crate is her nest. She does wet in it occasionally. But that's where I leave her when I go out--and her yelps follow me down the driveway.
Meantime Scooby, my Aussie, is scared of her and almost refuses to come in the house, even in this heat; the cat hates her. One thing Sophie has learned--she ducks when she sees the cat.
Jordan and Jacob have come many afternoons to play with both dogs, and they are a godsend. But I spend much of my time juggling animals, feeding, cleaning up messes, etc. On a good note, I've lost two pounds. Another good note: Jacob seems to have bonded with Scooby. I expected him to be friends with the pup, but she's too frenetic for him.
I know Sophie will turn into a good dog--she understands "NO" and "STAY" already and she's affectionate and loves human company, but there's a lot of training ahead of us. I think I'll feel better when she's four months, I can begin real training, and I can take her in the front yard.
Meantime, understand why I'm tired?
I'm happy to add a PS: Sophie had a visitor tonight--a ten-year-old girl who played with her all evening while my class met. They both had a good time, and tonight I have one tired placid pup. The girl's mom took a cute picture of Sami holding Sophie, but Sophie is so black all she looks like is a bundle of black--no darting eyes, cute face, etc.