Day (not) at the beach

So this morning they told me, sure, we can get you to the clinic, but, well, the storm was in South Carolina, and it may well be moving up the coast. So, gosh, you know, they might not actually be able to get me back home later.

Uh, yeah. No thanks.

So, I stayed home. Tough decision!

It was a nice day. There was even some sun in the mid-afternoon. I got some stuff done, ran some errands.

Mags was happy to hang out.


I went to Target in the morning. Got nothing very exciting. Well, except Jumbones. Including teeny-tiny ones for Little Maxine. And giganamous ones for Miss Mags. I gave Maggie one when I got home, the really huge Pedigree one (an Enormabone? Gargantubone? Something like that). She ate half and then spent the next hour trying to find exactly the right place to hide it.

I managed to go see my therapist early and then decided I wanted a latte (and an excuse to finish turning the heel on my Tolerance Sock), so I went to the Starbucks, and pulled up my usual spot at the bar. I like to watch the goings on from my perch up there. And I opened up my latest copy of Annals of Contemporary Psychiatry (so I could pretend I was working) and set about my task. I got through the heel. It looks better. I actually decreased more than the pattern called for and then increased back up again, which I'm hoping will help with the perpetual problem I always have of the sock bagging at the ankle. And it looks way better than the last time I tried the heel.

And then I got picked up by the cops.

So there I am, knitting at the bar, minding my own business, when some dude walks in (and as any psychiatrist knows, minding your own business is always the single most dangerous thing to do, especially when some dude is around. Worse is when there are two dudes. Whoa. Always leads to trouble!). And the next thing you know, there he is, sitting next to me, with a big ol' white mocha, trying to make conversation. With his little radio on his shoulder and his shiny badge and a shinier Glock. And he was smooth. Asked me what I was making, if I had any other hobbies, commented that he hadn't seen me there before (so lame)...didn't ask what I did, or why I was sitting at Starbucks at 3:30 in the afternoon on a Thursday (although we'd already established that I had a job, because I commented on how glad I was not to be there), but after bringing up the bizarre behavior of one of the other customers, asked me if I was a "professional people watcher." Which, by this time I'd stopped being quite as, "hmm, yeah, denied," and started laughing. And I said, "yeah, actually, that's pretty close to what I do."

We had a fairly nice conversation. He's a hostage negotiator, apparently. Given the way he worked me up, I can totally see that. We don't exactly live in NYC, so he says he uses his skills mostly talking down suicides. We swapped a couple of war stories. And then one of his squad walks in, who comes on over, and also starts chatting me up. The first officer asks for one of his blank cards so he can give me his number, um, because he might need a shrink (he gave me his cell). The other guy is all, well, what if she wants to call me instead?

Somehow I ended up with both of their numbers. I think that's sort of funny.

Then I got home, and my crappy $10 bike, which my parents had sent, was waiting on my front porch. So I spent an hour or so trying to reassemble it, with only moderate success. The mosquitoes were swarming so badly, I finally gave up.

Sparrow called me shortly thereafter and asked if I could go rescue Little Maxine (she's on call). Max hung out with us for a while, and then promptly went outside and started trying to dig under the gate.

Did I mention on Monday how she successfully escaped from our yard?

So, given that she was an elopement risk, I attempted to lure her with tiny little Jumbones. The first one, she just stole out of my hand as I stuck it out the dog door. But then I got smarter, and I lured her inside before taking the bone even out of the bag. And then I shut the dog door behind her.

She was sad.

She got over it.

Maxinie, enjoying her teenie-weenie Jumbone (can that tiny thing still be called a Jumbone?). I think she was trying to share it with Giant Loofah Dog.


"Wow, Giant Loofah Dog! These are great!!"