Winter into spring: little gold stars of forsythia appearing.
I'd forgotten I'd planted crocus in this planter with thyme:
It's warmish today, warm enough to be out in a sweater but not a coat. My mother told me yesterday on the phone that it had been warm and raining in Memphis, so I was expecting that weather to show up here today –– as indeed it has.
I need to touch the translation today, plus look again at the developing novel, which hasn't been developing much in the last five days or so. I woke up in the conviction that I need to cut one whole character arc: not the character per se, but the rabbit trail I've gone down with that character, which I think pulls energy away from what's emerging as the center of the story. It's a hard decision to make, because I like writing this character: she's a lot more complex and sympathetic seen on her own, with her private thoughts more revealed. In interactions with other characters she's rather unpleasant, and I have to decide whether to let her just be that way, or else figure out some other way to make her a little more human and vulnerable. Of course, the value in writing a whole story arc that I'm going to axe is that now I do know something of her backstory, which I hope will shape her without necessarily intruding in an obvious way into the story.
Dora and I also need to get out and walk, though I think we'll take it in a more low-key way today. Yesterday we succeeded in getting about two-thirds of the way down one direction of the greenway trail, and it was all right, not great, but all right. She was increasingly anxious, as I could see by her body language: ears pinned back, body tense, trotting faster and faster. There were some loud cars and trucks with trailers on the street; we passed various people without incident, but she was obviously taking stock of them; a big dog barked at us from a backyard, which scared her.
At that point it was becoming obvious that even with her daily dose of Trazodone, and with gradually increasing, over some days, the distance we go on the same path where we're likely to encounter lots of triggers and stimuli, her anxiety level was going up and not coming back down. Not far past the yard with the big barking dog, I decided to turn back. Quit while you're ahead: always a good motto. We were ahead, or at least we were progressing just fine without incident, until we reached the last street crossing before our house. We had the stop sign our way; cars on the cross street had the right-of-way. I had made Dora sit, and we were waiting to cross, while across the street a tall girl (late teens, early 20s) was approaching the corner, following the cross street, on rollerblades. I wanted to let her go past and get on down the street, because I figured she might be kind of triggering.
Then a truck stopped at the intersection for no reason. People do this, I guess under the impression that they're being nice. They stop for no actually legal reason, and then if you don't cross in front of them, they start gesturing at you like you're the idiot, holding them up, wasting their valuable time. One lady a week or so ago actually honked at me, which flustered me so much that all in a startle and a tangle I dragged Dora across the street, then fumed the rest of the way home. Just keep driving, lady, like the traffic laws say, and let the people with dogs take care of themselves.
Anyway, this truck stopped, even though he had the right-of-way and I didn't, and did the gesturing thing, like he was going to be polite, dammit, and I was going to appreciate it. Again I was flustered, and my hands were too full of leash and treat bag for me to gesture back, so I did cross, angling across the street to try to avoid the girl on the rollerblades.
And . . . we didn't give her a wide enough berth to suit Dora. The rollerblades made the girl look really tall, and maybe she was wearing a helmet, too, I can't remember. She was moving in a way that obviously looked threatening, since it's not the way human beings generally moved. Dora, who had had enough of everything, positively roared at her and had to be dragged away and mollified the rest of the way home.
She has a loud bark at the best of times, but this particular bark, when she's somewhere in the stratosphere above her emotional threshold, is scary, a real full-throated bellow. I don't know that she would ever actually hurt a person –– when push comes to shove, she's generally submissive and scared –– but she can sure sound as though she would hurt a person. Once the crisis was past, she came down again fast enough and was her cheerful tail-wagging self, but for an instant her entire personality was a flashing neon Beware-of-Dog sign. I didn't see the girl's reaction; I was too busy being mortified, and too occupied with getting my dog back under control, to notice anything else.
So our walk today will be a lot more low-key. No more greenway for the time being –– we can walk around the neighborhood where it's quiet and we won't run into so many people or cars. OR we can just throw balls in the backyard, which she loves. Part of the reason why walking is stressful, I think, is that she really wants to be running. I generally preface a walk by throwing the ball for her a few times, so that she has a chance to burn off some of her drive for speed. That generally works well, whether I want to walk with her or have her calm down indoors. In fact, she's perfectly happy as long as she's had several hard rounds of fetch daily, with or without any kind of walk. Now, for example, having run around outside, then chewed her big bone, she's passed out on her bed at my feet, a charming companion who never gave anybody a moment's trouble in her life.
Checking the wardrobe spreadsheet to see what I haven't been wearing . . .
It's hard to see this ensemble very clearly: secondhand short-sleeved bamboo swing dress, which I definitely haven't worn very much yet. That will no doubt change as we move into warmer weather, however. Put my thrifted royal-blue cotton ragg-knit sweater over it for a layer of light warmth, plus secondhand striped bamboo/cotton leggings. A very secondhand/thrifted outfit today! Wearing my Xero barefoot sandals (not secondhand) currently, though my feet are kind of cold.
This is maybe not my favorite outfit; something about it feel indefinably off to me, though I don't quite know what it is. This sense could of course be utterly subjective and mood-driven. My anxiety has been bad lately, and I know that that warps my perception of everything in my world.
On the other hand, blue makes me feel about as good as I'm going to feel. It's never a bad choice. And aside from my chilly feet, which I'm going to go do something about (hello, socks), and aside from my naturally dubious expression, I am blissfully comfortable.
Also: just realizing that this is the date with all the twos in it.