Thank goodness the rain has stopped. 

After monsoon like down pouring for the past week.  

Half of Freyja's softball games canceled.  

Rolf walking around making pronouncements of deep hatred of the rain and irrational threats to move to central Mexico. 

Today I'm volunteering at Potluck in the park, and I lack proper rain gear, being too vain, or too cheap to invest in such things. 

I had visions of being less prepared than the folks I was there to serve, having to borrow a tarp, or scarf.

When it rains I typically wear a 30 year old black beret and a woolen, thrift-store sweater, looking like a zaftig, middle aged Kurt Cobain. 

I haven't owned a proper coat since the vintage things I used to wear in the 80's.  
My mother often buys me coats, great matronly things that are always ill fitting, too big in the shoulders and waist, too snug around the hips. 

I look like a boxy gnome.  

The intention is good, noble and kind, but no thank you.    

Earlier in the week the clod from my doctor's office phone to say "your blood counts are low! like super bad, cancer patient low, Caitlyn wants to see you."  Naturally I was stunned and angry, but I know the doctor will make her news more palatable and gentle.  

It was a strange week with people angry about the weather and curt in grocery lines.  

On Wednesday Ripley was at his dog daycare, hanging out in the office, due to his fragility and neediness, when someone opened the door between the office and the exercise room, and a pack of dogs ran into the office and over Ripley.  He got a gash on his head and quit a bit of fur ripped out and couldn't walk for a day or two, but he appears to be recovering.   When Rolf brought him home he was in shock.  Lifting his head weakly and letting out a tiny bark, over and over.

I felt, several times this week,  like crawling under a rock.  

On Thursday, at the end of this cruddy week, I received and e-mail that was so flattering, and so kind that I wept in the car, as I read it on my phone.  

The executive director of a professional organization I don't even belong to, I should but don't, sent me a note and two job announcements at Western Oregon University.  

People are as kind and thoughtful as they are nasty and thoughtless.  

There is no way I can move to Monmouth, but to be considered to even apply felt huge.

in case you are still looking  for other career possibilities, here are some openings.   I thought of you for the Equity Specialist position.  

Mark brought me home a stack of books yesterday, and I fully intended to start on a collection of Sherman Alexie stories, but then I just read Entertainment Weekly instead, because I am getting weird in my old age.  

We watched a couple of forgettable movies this week and are re-watching The Shield, my fondness for cop drama never wanes.  Every evening the cat comes to watch TV with us, nudging Mark with her head for a long time, before finally settling down.