Nearly everyone is on vacation in this office, so it's total chaos. I don't know what to do first, so I took a break to work on my blog. Let everything else fall apart!

This was my anniversary weekend. 28 years! My God, there are times when my wedding day seems close enough to touch, smell, feel. The fact that half the people in my wedding pictures have passed away (Mom, Nana, Emery, Uncle Ben) makes me feel both sad and nostalgic. It's a long time, and a very long time to be maritally attached to one person.

Poor Dan. Bugsy took a bite of his toes this weekend when he dared to try to pass by him when he was gobbling on a bone. Snaps had already taken a different bone away from the Bugster a bit earlier in the evening, so to make it up to him, I gave Bugsy a replacement. I guess our blind pooch was feeling very proprietary about the new bone, because when Dan tried to walk past him to go to the bathroom, Bugsy attacked, leaving Dan with two very bloody toes. I had to remind him to keep pressure on the wounds, because Dan left several large drops of blood on the kitchen floor--quite the mess. We got the blood stopped, but as always, it distresses me greatly when Bugsy takes two steps backward and attacks a family member this way. I question our decision to keep him.

Given how quickly July 30 crept up on me, I didn't have a card ready for yesterday, and felt guilty when I got downstairs to find that Dan had one propped up on the kitchen table for me when I woke up yesterday. It was a beautiful pink and white card, too, with a heartfelt poem inside. Dan wrote some mushy additions, like he always does. As always, he did it up right. We already chosen to give each other the flat screen for the computer as our mutual gift this year, and it was a great decision--I love it.

Brad's gift took me aback. He usually gives us a gift certificate or money to eat out somewhere. This year, he bought our present at Things Remembered--a redwood memory box. We can put a picture inside the top, and anything we want inside the black velvet interior. It's so lovely, and so deserving of truly beautiful treasures! I really have to ponder what I'm going to put in there. I feel as if I should place my beating heart inside, or something equally precious.

Dan and I went for an early celebration brunch at the 56th Fighter Group. We haven't been there in a long time, and I'd forgotten their excellent array of fine food, everything from white fish to lox to fresh Belgium waffles to ravioli to roast beef to. . .well, you get the idea. All this against a backdrop of stunning blue skies with planes taking off and landing. It was very romantic. not to mention filling. I took little tastes of nearly everything.

We had to stop off at Cosco right afterward, and for some reason, Dan wasn't feeling well. (PS - We weren't able to snag one lousy handicapped parking spot; they were all taken!) He thought it might be his blood sugar, so I raced through the shopping while he rested on a sofa. He was limping badly after Bugsy's assault on his foot, too.

We've also had a serious bug problem at home, these gnatlike, flying insects that are attracted to our lights, land on our skin and tickle us. They don't bite, but they're very annoying and the large number of them is giving us all heebie jeebies. We've hung up those sticky (but non-poisonous) strips (we don't want to risk getting the dogs sick). The huge amounts of bugs stuck to the strip makes me nauseous! I can't imagine where they're all coming from, but I fear we might have a nest of them inside the house, and that makes me queasy. I don't want to have to call in an exterminator, but we just might have to. I really worry about the dogs with the strong poisons they would probably have to use.

Tonight is open house at our gym, and they're giving away free food! Yummy. I'm going right after work. I hope it's wraps or something equally delicious. I'll let you know.

Love, Robin

In the past couple of days, a man was killed on Sunrise Highway because an elderly man, going the wrong way, struck him. Several other people were embroiled in this accident, some injured, but the man who caused it claims he doesn't remember the incident. One of my co-workers tells me the elderly man's son was told BY a cop only 12 hours previously that his father should NOT be driving, that the man is clearly senile and had gotten into an minor accident earlier that afternoon. If the man's son had listened to that cop, a 33 year old man would be alive today.

There are thousands of car and other accidents every day. Some people die, some walk away.

My sister-in-law was supposed to board a plane that crashed, killing every one of the passengers and crew. She missed the flight. The night an earthquake interrupted a World Series game in California several years ago, that same sister-in-law was supposed to have been on a bridge that collapsed, but a last-minute phone call kept her in the office and perhaps saved her life.

What about all the people who were supposed to be at the World Trade Center on 9/11, but for one reason or another, didn't end up there that horrific day? Three weeks earlier, I'd attended a Dark Shadows convention at the WTC, and don't think I don't get chills just thinking about how only a matter of days separated me from that mass murder.

Fate.

Is it a real entity? Does it play the major role in our lives? Are we really in control, or is there Something Bigger Than All of Us controlling what happens to us every day?

When we don't board a plane that crashes, does that mean we've been Saved For Something Special, or were we just Damned Lucky?

If we were on the road with the senile man who drove the wrong way on the highway, what does it mean? That we were meant to fight for our life that day, but not die? Die like the 33 year old man did? Get the scare of our lives when we saw that car heading head-on for us?

What the fuck does it all mean?

In 1977, I met Dan at a coffee house sponsored by a Jewish philanthropic organization. My mother pushed me to go. His mother pushed him to go. What if one of us had defied our mothers and done something else that night? Would we have met anyway, another place, a different time? Or would we have never met and ended up married to alternate people? Were we MEANT to meet and mate? Set up by Powers Beyond Our Control?

Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

I don't have any answers for this dilemma, mind you, just more questions. It does give one a lot to think about. It's scary, too. When Brad got his license, I said, "I know you're a good driver, a little heavy on the pedal, but a good driver. It isn't YOU I worry about, it's other nuts on the road--people who drink and drive, take drugs and drive, or just get really pissed off and drive. All it takes is one unfortunate encounter with someone like that and you could lose your life. It just makes me want to wrap you in a cocoon and never let you near the rest of the people in this crazy world!"

And keep him out of fate's cruel, nasty, mysterious hands.

Love, Robin

You can only imagine how much I feared for my four year old son when he was diagnosed diabetic. He was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance only eight months after we first found out; a serious low blood sugar reaction rendered him unconscious. As knowledgeable as I was, I fell apart, unable to find the blood testing monitor, the Glucagon, or my brain. Dan was babbling on the phone with the 911 operator, unable to remember our address. It would have been funny if our five year old son's life wasn't at stake.

Brad is 23 now, very much in control of his own diabetic health. He's joined a gym, is watching his food intake carefully and yells at me when I bring bad food into the house--this from the child who lived to eat as much of them as he could get away with, both pre and post diabetes.

Diabetes is very tricky. Exercise can lower blood sugars drastically, and continues to do so long after you have exercised. So with Brad not only going to the gym, but frequently playing long, exhausting games of basketball with his friends, his blood sugars have been sinking to dangerously low levels. This worries me. Granted, I have backed out of dealing with his diabetes for the most part, but old habits die hard; on weekends, when he tends to sleep late, I test his blood sugar while he sleeps. I've found his readings as low as 48 on a few occasions, which is excessively low. Then Mom springs into action, bringing up orange juice and peanut butter crackers to the rescue.

I know Brad doesn't like my worrywart tendencies, but when I watched him go into convulsions, then lapse into unconsciousness 18 years ago, I vowed that would never happen again on MY watch. It's so hard--he still lives under our roof, and last night, knowing he was out playing basketball, after going to the gym, I worried it was going to be too much. I think uneasily of the kids who go out to play baseball or football with their parents in the stands, who suddenly fall down and die after getting hit with a ball in the chest or for no apparent reason at all. Brad COULD have such a severe insulin reaction, he might die in his sleep. I realize that's a fearful mother's conjuring, but it's a real enough possibility that I feel I must do everything I can to forestall it.

And so I do.

Love, Robin (who is a mother first, everything else second)

Saturday:

Dropped Bugsy off at Purrrrfect Paws at 8 AM for his grooming. When I lifted him into Dan's backseat and asked him to move over, he attacked and bit my tit. That hurt!

Off to Petco to purchase an expensive ($9 per bottle) shampoo the groomer recommended for the rash running along Snaps' spine.

Had breakfast at the buffet in Levittown. Ate mostly OK, just a couple of semi-bad items. Buffets are hard. There are too many choices, most of them evil!

Dan and I went to the gym for a lengthy workout. The pool was delightful, the jacuzzi even better. I do love toning up my body and making it healthier. I've never been vain, but if my body looks more svelte to those who have to view me, so much the better, right?

To Wal-Mart to buy a few things for the house, returned to the groomer's about 12:30 to pick up Bugsy, who looked mighty handsome with his new cut and "Dozy Dog" bandana. The cost: $50, including tip. What I usually pay for a haircut: $5.25, plus tip.

It poured as we were driving home, one of several sudden downpours from blackened skies that plagued us all weekend. Sunday was mostly shower-free, but Saturday had to be a pain in the ass for those holding block parties or garage sales, with the perpetually-gray skies and abrupt monsoons.

I took a nap when we arrived home (I napped both days, no apologies!)

at 3 PM, I drove to my appointment at Theresa's to use up the last of the certificates we'd won months ago at the temple auction--manicure, pedicure and haircut with blowdry. The owner herself cut my hair, deftly and beautifully, blowing it into poofy prettyness. I thought I looked almost actress-like! (Shirley Maclaine, anyone?)

I soaked my feet in a swirling red whirlpool for quite a while, reading a magazine, then a sweetheart named Jean thoroughly massaged, exfoliated, de-callused, de-cuticled and triple-polished my feet and toes. She had to be about 75 years old, her birthday the following day. She told me about her two dead husbands, one dead boyfriend, three kids and grandkids. She seemed lonely when she said most guys she meets can get much younger women than her. Not with as much character, I thought, looking at her lined, workworn but still lovely face. She polished my nails, too, in the same nondescript color I'd chosen for my toenails. I gave her a $10 tip, not only because she worked on me for so long, but also because I felt sorry for her. I gave the shop's owner a $5 tip for my haircut. I was there for well over three hours, but it was really fun!

Dan and I ate dinner at Cafe Uno. I had chicken parm, my usual, and I feel it was a full, busy and enjoyable day all around.

Sunday:

Dan, Mike and I went to see PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN'S CHEST. Dan and I hadn't seen the first part, but it was a spirited, high-action, heavy-on-the special effects flick. I nearly fell asleep a couple of times, rare for me, so perhaps it wasn't as engrossing as I thought, but Dan actually DID fall asleep more than once, mainly because he had low blood sugar. Mike got him a small soda to bring his glucose back up.

Another mid-afternoon nap for me!

We took Brad and Ali out to dinner at Corner Galley. Mike joined us. We had a great time, although Dan got stuck with a pretty big bill for four people. Now that Brad sees how much is taken from his paycheck for taxes and such, I suspect he's going to leech on for eat-out meals as often as possible. To his credit, he did bring home Italian ices for Dan and me last night, which he didn't have to do. Sugar-free chocolate mousse for me--yum!

The only bad thing about weekends is that work weeks are two and a half times longer!

I'm off to the gym tonight for a short workout. Nancy and I did manage to take a walk this morning. The humidity that has plagued us for so long is GONE, at long last, and I pray it will stay gone!

We washed Snaps with that spray on shampoo stuff. I don't see much difference in his rash, but maybe it will take a few days.

Dan went for a sonogram this morning. The cyst on his liver is still there, and Dr. Jacob wants him to go for an MRI. I hope he has better luck doing it than I did. I couldn't take being inside that thing even with 10 milligrams of valium inside me!

Later, dudes. It's almost time to leave. Hurray!

Love, Robin

He just missed his mommy, that's all!

Snaps and Bugsy began barking as soon as they heard my car pull up in front of the house. Those two can actually hear the difference in car engines, I swear! They were going wild behind the screen door, sparking me to grab my suitcase and pocketbook from my car and run up the driveway and front steps to get to them as fast as I could. Being the natural klutz I am, I stumbled and fell, striking my knee against the concrete step. I didn't pay the pain much mind; I pulled the door open and descended upon my joyously barking fur-children.

The first thing I did was demand, "Who wants to go for a walkie??" Barking, they followed me eagerly out the back door. Bugsy didn't hesitate in dashing down the steps to pee gushingly into the dry dirt below. I was astounded to see how many large branches had fallen off the trees in my backyard during the storm; the ground was littered with them. In certain areas, entire trees fell down, so it must have been a bad one.

Just to make sure both dogs were "empty", I leashed them up (no problem at all!), walked them around the yard and down near the folks behind us. Bugsy took a dump directly underneath and INTO a low-to-the-ground plant in the corner of my neighbor's yard. It was impossible to scoop it up, and I was forced to leave most of it behind there. I felt bad, but there was little else for me to do. I was SO grateful Bugsy seemed like his old self again, and even Dan said he was totally different from the nasty pooch he'd been earlier in the day when neither he nor Brad was able to get him to go downstairs on the deck or hook him up to the leash. Then again, that's not good--Bugsy has to behave with Brad when Dan and I go away, and with Dan and Brad when I need to go somewhere!

How did we end up with this odd, moody little dog?

Love, Robin