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YOUNG PUPS AND OLD POOPS
13 June 2006
The plan had been for Ashley to bring me another "old" puppy this morning. We think it's "Greta" (who is now called something else), who needs a home for a week "or so." I was looking forward to having her back again.
BUT this morning Kimba is "walking weird." It's not consistent, but she's kind of holding her hindquarters off to the side when she walks "that way." If you can, imagine a dog trying to walk forward while her back end is tilted at about a 45° angle.
Sheila is, at the same time, acting oddly toward her. It's like Kimba has taken another turn closer to the end of her life, and Sheila is priming herself to take over, which means she is somewhat short-tempered when it comes to Kimba. Oh, no attacks again, but given what has gone on in the past, I don't want to risk adding another dog to the mix. If it was a newborn, that would be fine, but one that is an older, active puppy just sounds like it's asking for trouble, so, sadly, I had to ask Ashley not to bring Greta back again.
Today it's a "come down" day, a day to decompress after all the events of the weekend. I was up at 5 this morning, unable to sleep any longer and wanting to work on photos and post-Vloggercon stuff. By late morning, I was really feeling sleepy and decided to take a nap.
I was very groggy when I woke up and then sat up with a start to double check the clock. I had an appointment at the high school at 1:30, to finally get Jose's transcript notarized and had this horrible fear that after all my angst about it, I had slept through the appointment, but no, I woke up in time, but had to rush to get down to the high school before the notary arrived.
It was obviously Yearbook Day, as there were clumps of people all over campus looking at books, and people parked on the walls hunched over, with pen poised above paper, wondering what deathless prose they would leave as a final comment on the year. I wondered how many of them would write "2 good 2 B 4-got-10" or something like that.
I remembered that we never had a "yearbook day" the year I graduated from high school. I was the editor that year and because I came from the most apathetic class in the history of the school, my "staff" consisted of my one friend and myself. We had to do all the work ourselves, and consequently, missed nearly every printer's deadline, so the books were not delivered until two weeks after graduation ("Failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on our part" was obviously the motto of the printing company!). There were sixty in my graduating class and I drove around San Francisco hand-delivering every single one of those books to the graduated seniors. But we never got to giggle at photos together and write deathless prose in each other's books.
A frantic looking girl stopped me.
"Can I borrow a dollar?" she asked.
I smiled at that. "Borrow?" I thought She obviously meant "can you give me a dollar." She said she had to catch the bus and had no money. I was feeling generous, so I handed her a dollar and she dashed off without asking my name, giving me her name, or asking where she could return the dollar she had just "borrowed." (Of course I hadn't expected that she would when I gave her the dollar.)
The office has moved from the little hole in the wall it was when when David graduated. It is now this big new-ish building with lots more offices. I was directed to the counseling office, where I was to meet with the registrar and the notary I had hired to come and witness her signature.
The registrar could not have been less pleasant. She grumbled for me to have a seat out in the hall and when she let us into her office, she didn't make eye contact at all and everything seemed to irritate her. They needed her identification? grumble-grumble, as she handed over her driver's license. "You want me to sign it?" she asked, sarcastically. I tried to make a light comment, but it went ignored.
This was her job, and I couldn't understand the degree of distaste she obviously had for this 5 minute intrusion into her day.
We had earlier spoken by telephone about how the sealed envelope she sent me should have been proof enough that this was a valid transcript and after all the notary work had been done, I showed her the envelope with "transcript" written on the outside and explained that it was not clear from that that I should not have opened the envelope. When she realized they had left off the sticker which was supposed to advise me of that fact, she did soften a bit and I actually got a glimmer of a smile on her face.
At least it's over. Step one. My plan had been to go from the high school to the office of the Secretariat of State, Step two. But because of my nap, I was dressed in grubbies and sandals and didn't feel like walking into a fancy Sacramento governmental business office, so I've put off Step Two until tomorrow, when I have a doctor's appointment and can drive in afterwards. Maybe.
At least the project is one more step (and $20 more) toward completion. I suspect that the hardest part lies ahead of me, finding a translator and getting the apostile from the Consulate in Los Angeles.
PHOTO OF THE DAY
The View from our table on Fisherman's Wharf