These days, it feels like I'm losing my grip. Sometimes I don't see her until night time, bed time, just enough time to say goodnight. In the mornings, she's got zero period, so she's out the door before sometimes I'm out of bed. Her math topics are starting to get away from me... I remember quadratics, but ask me to do that now, I have to do research. I know my history, world and US, enough so that I can always provide her with more context. But her English class is asking her to read books that I don't remember if I ever read them. Did I read Night by Elie Wiesel? Maybe not...
When it comes to her music, forget it. She left both me and her mama in the dust years ago. Her mom and I never studied music, never really picked up an instrument. But this is where it seems that she's going. Certificate of Merit on the piano. Playing Carnegie Hall in NY earlier this month. She has her own flute students, and she's making real money teaching.
This is what it feels like to start losing your grip on that little baby girl you held so close and threw around so easily. That had such a hard time reading three pages of Dick and Jane on the floor of her room. The loosening of the grip is just so barely evident now. I really have to be conscious to feel it, it happens so slowly. But I want to experience it, I want to realize when it's happening. Because I don't want to wonder, some day, She's gone... when and how did that happen. It's happening... Right. Now. Embrace it.
We were playing around with Google Translate after doing a few lessons of Duolingo. After lessons, Harold likes to put in different, funny phrases and then listen to how they sound in lots of different languages. It can be belly-laugh material!
Here's what Harold dropped in there today:
Donald Trump is a big poopy head, he wants to build a wall and says the mexicans will pay for it though they haven't yet and he is letting the russians trick him and so there using him as a puppet still his lawyer is going to jail even though he said he would take a bullet for Trump he was going against him.
We packed up in the morning Friday, Rita was really deep into the thick of planning the meals, Rob was wrapping up work while watching the weather reports and road conditions on Highway 4.
Reports came in that the Colletts might not be coming up that day due to car trouble, possibly something about their ride not playing nicely with tire chains. Soon after, Rob saw that Highway 4 was closed by Caltrans near Cabbage Patch, which is about halfway between Arnold and Bear Valley. A plan B was quickly put into place with Rob calling around hotels and motels in the foothills of Highway 4.
Starting in Murphys, there was nothing that would allow a dog. Moving to Angels Camp, turns out it's a smaller town than what Rob originally thought. Over to Sonora and Jamestown and we hit pay dirt. A motel between those two towns had a room, for pretty cheap, which would allow Lyra to stay there too, for only a $10 extra fee. Rob booked it on the first call, and we were still on track for getting out of town for the weekend.
We left at about 2pm and headed south, over Pacheco Pass, and then turned north toward Gustine on a series of two lane blacktop roads. We stopped at Oakdale's Tractor Supply store for a bag of food for the pup (we'd forgotten in in the whirlwind of getting Archer ready to go to the Berry's). Thirty miles later, we pulled into the Country Inn Sonora, right on Highway 108/Highway 49.
The place was pretty nice, especially for the price. Jimtown is in the foothills, so there are a lot of hills around. Our room, though on the third floor, was accessible via car; we just drove up the hill around back and parked squarely in front of our room. That made unloading and refactoring our rooftop load a lot easier.
Dinner at Morelia Mexican Restaurant (to go, we ate in room with another ton of single use plastic waste that housed all the salsa, soup(!), salad, etc) was good, and Penny really liked the little old west town feel of historic downtown Jamestown. We'll need to go explore it again tomorrow before we leave. Cross our fingers that Highway 4 opens up just long enough for us to scoot up the hill!
According to Strava, I was comfortably past my running distance goal of 400 miles for all of 2018. I show a total of just over 412 miles, which is great, and just a little more than last year.
I've had that same 400 mile goal for two years now, and it seems comfortable enough. The stretch goal for my running aspirations is in the weekly. There, I have a weekly goal of 12 miles, which I sometimes hit. It's not physically difficult, but usually amounts to an issue of time: Do I have the time to do it this week?
If I were to hit my 12 mile week for the entire year, then assuming 52 weeks a year, I would hit about 624 miles in a year.
But again, 400 miles for the year is comfortable, and very much doable. So congrats to me!
I started the trailer demo yesterday. Though cloud bursts interrupted the work occasionally, I was able to easily bust out the rotted wood deck. Since dark threatened to come quickly, cleanup was the next order of business. Circular saw in hand, I cut up all the boards into bite size pieces and stacked them at the top of the driveway, next to the tree. If I get time tomorrow (which I doubt), I'll pull the trailer out and clean the channels and see what I can do about the screws, which are no doubt seized.
How do I feel about it? It's always good to get your hands dirty and get that physical sense of accomplishment.