The last day of freedom...

Today is my last day of freedom before I begin working again. After four months off, I am ready to work. But I am already missing my freedom a little bit, and dreading what promises to be an awful Hwy 26 and 217 laced commute.

What would I like to do with my last day? Lay in bed and read my Bill Clinton autobiography. Snuggle with Franz. Walk Buddy a bunch and play with him. Walk around Hoyt Arboretum and try to reconnect with nature a little bit before I start driving and choking the life out of the trees with my car's exhaust. Maybe watch Criminal Intent before it's time to go back to bed to sleep.

What am I going to be doing? Laundry... lots and lots of laundry. It seems to pile up so quickly, and the washer and dryer are small (by necessity) so you just have to take little bites out of it at a time. And then more grocery shopping. And we have to fix the toilet today or else I might lose my mind. The stupid thing runs every time you flush it. Something about a floating thingy that isn't floating right.

Yesterday I got my hair cut and colored. I am happy with the haircut, but not really the color. It came out too dark. But it at least answers the question about whether or not I need to continue to take the long drive to go back to that hairstylist again. The little woman I have remembered so fondly all these long months of my exile from the working world forgot who I was completely and didn't remember me or my color until I had been in her chair for about a half an hour.

I also got my car serviced this weekend, so the Buddy-mobile should be good to go to return to its former job as the Sherry-mobile.

The best part about yesterday was that I got to go to the Rose Garden arena for the first time. We went to see my very first hockey game. Of course, I was about 45 minutes late (thanks to the aforementioned forgetful hairdresser). But I got to see the last 2 periods. There were some truly spectacular fights, one of which happened when I went out to get a bite of food. The cheers and screams from inside the arena were almost deafening, so I turned to look at the monitors. There were these two men on the screen... each had grabbed a hold of the others' shirt and was just pummeling the other. It was sad, scary, funny and a little horrifying all at the same time. I was thinking about what Franz had told me earlier, "When the gloves come off, the refs don't get in the middle to stop them." I think that refs even stop boxing matches sometimes. I guess if you really want to beat on someone, you should go into hockey.

There was one fight where a whole bunch of players on both teams got thrown out. They announced each players' name and how long he was going to be out for. "Joe Blow of Portland gets two minutes for tripping, Jack Schmoe of Seattle gets five minutes for fighting, etc." Then I had an epiphany. The music group "Five for Fighting"... I always thought that meant that there were five guys in a band and that if you wanted to fight with them they were telling you ahead of time that there were a lot of them, so maybe you shouldn't bother. Like, "If you pick on one of us, you are going to have five of us for fighting." But now I think they maybe just named their band at a hockey game. I suppose I could get online and research this further. But, well, this is my last day of freedom. And I really don't care to find out that badly.

Well, that is about all. Buddy woke me up extra early this morning to go for his first walk. I am starting to think that maybe his restlessness is related to the miniature earthquakes they say we are having. I don't feel them, but they say that maybe the animals can. He does seem extra needy and whiny the last two days or so. But, he has finally settled down to go to sleep for now. So I think I will head back to bed myself.

Love to all,

Sherry