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This morning I took my husband to the airport.  This afternoon I took Kyle to Penn Square Mall.  And after that, I took the dogs for their walk.  But to be perfectly honest, I did very little of the actual ‘taking’ on any of these trips, unless you count the return trip from the airport when I took myself home.  If left to my own drive, none of these trips would have made it out of ‘park’.        


I have very little horsepower right now, probably because I’m weighed down by sadness.  It’s hard to believe that this five-week Beijing trip that I’ve dreaded for so long has officially begun.  Thirty-four days before I see my husband’s smiling face again.  I know that soon the dogs and I will settle into our routine.  But for now, I feel lopsided, like I’m hobbling along without my better half.


I just want to stay home and mope.  I’ve had little desire to write or to do anything the least bit productive.  So until Kyle called, I just sat in a chair and read, another one of those Tudor historical fiction books that I’m so enamored with of late, that allows me to escape to a place where wife’s heads are loped off for no good reason.  A trip to Henry’s court always has a way of putting my own woes into perspective. 


No woes from Kyle today.  For whatever reason, he was in a great mood, but he certainly noticed I was cranky.  He called me on my moodiness pretty quick, which may have worked to dissipate my edginess.  He was so appreciative that I stopped moping long enough to help him select some new dress clothes for tonight’s BSU Banquet.  New clothes have a way of making a person feel as though their putting their best foot forward. 


And I guess I put my own best feet forward when I grabbed a couple of dog leashes for a daily walk around the park that I could no longer postpone.  The poodles rewarded me with many displays of appreciation–including circus pirouettes from Maddie and a big lick on my neck from Max who was standing almost eyeball to eyeball with me, two hind legs planted on the floor and both front paws planted on my chest.  The poodles didn’t seem to notice my crankiness or the fact that I was slowing down their poodle parade with my dead weight.  Instead, I received a lot of poodle smiles that seemed to say, “Atta Girl.”  “Good Poodle Mommy.”  Even at my best, I am dragged up and down Mesta Park sidewalks full speed ahead, two poodle top knots fast.


Tomorrow, I’ll make myself get up and go again.  But today, I’m having my own little pity party.   What sounds good is a warm lazy river and an inner tube; or perhaps a margarita on the rocks while floating in the tube, if the river were shallow enough.  No place to go and all day to get there.  But instead, I’m writing.  Because Kyle told me I should.  And without any drive, I know its pure drivel.   But who cares?  Tomorrow, I can always hit ‘delete.’