Rouge

Red faced, garden watered, many more tomatoes to be picked. Will roast some and freeze for later, since my own tongue is raw from eating too many lately. Too many for me, anyway, which is not much. Took two bunches to work, all taken away, to my delight, and theirs. Everything looked so bedraggled when I got home, limp and desperate.

Short day, two of our regular surgeons for Friday are on vacation. Not at my best this week, making stupid, distracted mistakes. Nothing dangerous nor irrevocable, but very dumb. Got a burr ready in the morning for the second case. Brought supplies in the room, picked up the burr again. Scrubbed in, could not find the damn thing. It's not big, could be under something, wasn't. Hrn got another one, opened it. Finishing up, I crossed my arms, and felt, in the breast pocket of the scrub shirt under the gown the distinct sense of a burr package - still sterile, unopened. Poopie. Gave my surgeon a left glove for her right hand. And managed to forget to put the activator on the handpiece for the burr. "OH, you wanted to actually USE it?" Only took me a few seconds, such a doofus.

Cats chasing madly in the early hours. Galloping and galumphing about. Hard not to smile, which is an ideal way to wake up in the morning. Moby much more alert, the fur he'd been licking off has pretty much all grown back in the last three weeks. Yeah, I think he was bored and lonely, and now he has lots of entertainment. Last night he went to sniff Eleanor, and she batted him, he just looked at her. "Can I not just sniff without you reacting? Kids. Oh, well." Eleanor is going through her adjustment, mostly, now. Getting to know how we are, if she can trust us, if she really likes us. We remind ourselves how long it took Moby to decide we were ok. Maybe Moby is feeling a bit the same, "Oh, yeah, I was like this when I was a kit."

Working on an ABC of my work, utterly stuck on Q though.