I'm restless on Monday nights. It's the first night that Andy is gone during the summer weeks and I don't like it. I feel like I have nothing important to do besides wash the dishes. And I get sick of reading sometimes. I know that sounds crazy, but trust me, I don't know too many people who read as much as I do and if I do anything too much I get sick of it. I often find myself forcing myself to brush my teeth or take a shower because I've grown sick of the monotony.
Let's see... what is something happy... don't you just love the cheap summer fruits? I had a huge fruit salad today and it was wonderful. All Andy and I have been eating is fruit salad or smoothies and either a quesadilla or a skillet pizza (the kind that is only mozz and tomatoes and basil -- what's it's name? and we make it in the skillet so we don't have to turn the oven on b/c it gets so hot). So just fruit and cheese, my favorites. And it makes me laugh at myself for how much this affects my mood.
Andy and I took the pups to the vet today and the doctor heard a murmur in Daphne's heart. I freaked out, but Andy was calm. In fact, the doctor asked me if I was okay because I "seemed upset." I was shocked that he took the time to notice and felt open enough to confront me. I wish more people were as sensitive to others' feelings as that doctor was to me. But then, he also told me Daphne was a little chubby, which is ridiculous, she looks great and runs like crazy every day. Andy isn't worried about the murmur because it's only 10% likely, the doc said, that it would be something serious that would kill her. But he also said that it is common for dogs who have this to just fall over dead, without any signs that a owner might notice (because they come so gradually). So I was told to check her resting heart rate to monitor the problem. I know that Daphne is only an animal, but she is our first pup as a family, and she has such a spunky and quirky personality; I've never met another dog like her. She's mostly a pain, but I love her so much.
Well, this is my 200th blog posting. That sounds kind of sad. I wouldn't even bother posting usually, but I have to leach myself sometimes and typing is a heck of a lot faster than writing in my journal. And I don't like writing in my journal because every time I do I think of people who use the verb "journaling" as in, "Oh, do you journal?" No I don't journal, I write in a journal you wierdo. And I don't like the word because freaky and-how-does-that-make-you-feel people suggest that people like me should write in journals. Writing in a blog has gotten a bad rap too, so I'll shut my trap now. It's time to give Daphne a belly rub and start back into my book.