Well, so, although otherwise spectacularly well behaved, Dora dislikes being left in her crate in the daytime, when people have to go for example to the doctor. Dora: 1/Curtain: 0. She had managed to pull down and bend the spring rod, and pull part of the curtain through the bars of her crate so that she could rip into it. Guess I'll be ordering window film for that window, which looks out onto the untidy back porch and could really use some covering. She pulled in the edge of the pet cover on the couch next to the crate, too, but . . . it's a pet cover. Still, now I know to flip it up out of reach next time I have to leave her crated during the day.
"I am a dog and have no original sin."
This is my view of her for most of the day. We go out in the morning to throw the ball and run wild in the yard, then we walk around the loop road, about a quarter-mile. After an hour or so indoors, we go out again to throw the ball and run wild. In the early afternoon, we take a real walk, about an hour, usually about two miles, and we come back and throw the ball and run wild some more. Generally we take a short nighttime walk, up and down the street, or up the street and around the corner, just to get our last burst of energy out of our system before crate time.
But all day, in between those outoor intervals: this. If I get up, she gets up with me and accompanies me to the sink, to the washing machine, to get the mail, whatever. Then she lies back down again. All of this works for me. Among other things, I'm getting in my vaunted daily ten thousand steps, which I certainly was struggling even to come close to before. And so far we both sleep well.
I did have a brief follow-up on some lab work this morning: all good, though as always we're keeping an eye on my thyroid. It's a little enlarged, and I have some low-thyroid symptoms: dry skin, hair fallout, cold all the time, weight gain and difficulty losing said weight. Everything tests in the normal range, but as we all should know by now, when it comes to your thyroid, you can be technically "normal" and still have symptoms. I didn't feel like getting stuck today for a full thyroid panel, so we didn't do that, but we always have a conversation about it. I follow a number of nutritionists who recommend various nutrients and foods for thyroid support; mostly they recommend that you EAT, because undereating, which most of us are tempted to do when our weight creeps up, stresses your thyroid and is therefore counterproductive. They also recommend managing your stress levels and getting enough sleep. Lately I've had more good sleep nights than bad, so go me on that score.
And having the dog has certainly made me more active than I was –– I was kind of not leaving the house much, which over the long term wasn't going to be good for either my physical or my mental health. Living with her, my day is composed of intervals, exercise and work, out of the house and in, which helps with focus and cuts down on the amount of time I might spend scrolling social media out of isolation and boredom.
I also don't have so much time to think about what I'm wearing, which is probably good, though I do want to continue to be mindful about that.
Today I felt like trousers, for the first time in I don't know when.
Items bought new a long time ago comprise the core of this outfit: the funky shark-bite tunic, which I think I last wore during my 100-day challenge, over a pair of thick ponte-knit skinny jeans, which I think are Faded Glory –– a years-gone-by clearance-rack impulse buy at Walmart, out of which I have gotten many times the nine-dollar investment I sunk into them, in terms of wear. Though they read as black in this light, they are actually a nice dark charcoal gray, a less-harsh dark-neutral alternative for me. The only thing I don't like about them is the relatively low rise –– that's how old they are –– but they have been very forgiving as my weight has gone up and down, and they're insanely soft and comfortable.
The highs and lows today cover a wide range: 40s in the morning, 70s in the afternoon. Yesterday I found myself stripping off half the layers I'd started out in, so that by my second Dora walk of the afternoon, I was down to the Pact dress over a cropped tee, with bare legs. It's good weather for a pair of skinny jeans, with a top layer that I can lose as the day warms up.
Today the top layer was my duster-length secondhand gray/oatmeal cardigan. At this writing I've already taken it off, but it was the right weight for mid-morning when I went out to the doctor. Birk Madeiras with no socks.
I've culled most of my (thrifted) trousers, because they had just ceased to fit me, or rather I had ceased to fit them. But these I anticipate hanging onto until they fall apart. And as much as I enjoy wearing dresses, it sure is nice to wear something different today. I think what I've had to say about top-and-bottom outfits still pertains: in general, I find one piece easier. But . . . this is why I don't make hard-and-fast rules about clothes.
Anyway, I like this outfit. I'm very happy to be wearing it. So far I've brushed puppy-paw mud off my trousers and wiped it off my shoes –– yesterday I oiled the leather uppers of these shoes with avocado oil, and said puppy followed me around for the next hour trying to lick it off. I had not thought of avocado oil as a substance attractive to dogs, but evidently it is. Today I'm comfortable in changing temps, and as casual as if I were still wearing my pajamas, but I'm not wearing my pajamas. I look as though I tried a little.
This too of course is important for mental health.
Meanwhile, our camellia tree is coming gradually into bloom behind the house:
It's not all the way there yet, but the blossom-blizzard is coming.