Since the layoffs happened at a client's office, I've been trying to figure out how to get from the train to the client's office without having to bother Doyle. I usually try to catch a ride from Doyle or a coworker of his, on their way to work. Given the said coworker was laid off, I need to come up with a different solution.

Wanting to inconvenience people as little as possible, I figure I can walk or bike from the train station. Walking would take too long, yet biking requires a cumbersome-on-a-train bike.

Think.

Think.

Think.

I emailed Beth to ask her opinion of her scooter. With her glowing review, I decided to purchase a Xootr. It arrived a couple nights ago, so I took it out for a spin.

I couldn't think of a better reason to go out on a scooter than to walk the dog. No way could I manage two dogs, but one dog might be okay. I leashed up Annie, hopped on the the scooter and off we went.

After the first tug, Annie seemed to understand I was on a scooter and moving quickly. She ran in front of me, running as fast as I was scooting, sometimes a little faster tugging the leash and pulling me along, sometimes more slowly but not enough for me to catch up very much. We zipped down to the corner lickety split, turned around, and zipped back to the house.

High on Annie's success, I unleashed her in the house, then clipped Bella in for my next scoot. We turned left in front of the house and started moving. Instead of intelligently running out, way out, in front of the scooter, Bella decided to zig in front of me, fewer than three feet in front of the front wheel. I lurched on the handbrake, stopping quickly while accidently yanking the dog back.
Okay, that was just one misstep. We tried again. I started moving on the scooter again. Bella decided to zag, all of two feet in front of me. I stopped again, and tried again.

After maybe 80 feet, I decided that, yes, Annie gets it, but Bella? Hell no. That dog does NOT understand scooter and get the heck out of the way dog!

Bad dog, Bella! Bad dog!

This morning's velocity workout was three rounds of

75 box jumps
75 burpees
75 squats

but not how you think.

In groups of three people (which worked out well, as there were only three of us at the 7am class this morning), one person would rest while another person did twenty lunges. While the lunging person was counting to 20 lunges, the third person would do as many of the current exercise (box jumps, burpees or squats) as possible. When the lunger was done with 20 lunges, we all switched to the next exercise and continued the counting. The 75 of each exercise was cumulative for the three of us.

I have to admit to going more quickly or more slowly so as to minimize the exercises I didn't want to do, which was pretty much the burpees.

I find it odd the number of people who express condolences to me for another coworker being laid off. Sure, I figured out the company was going to have layoffs a few hours before the company did have layoffs last week, which resulted in a slightly awkward situation for me. Sure, I worked closely with one of the people laid off, but giving me condolences on HIS losing HIS job?

Makes no sense to me.

I talked to Dad today. If nothing else, I have to say that buying that house in Indiana was worth the expense in the increased amount of time I've spent with Dad. I can't imagine any other reason I would have for heading back to Indiana every other month or so. That sounds bad. I like visiting him, I like when he visits me, but neither of us seem to find the time. The house has motivated me to visit frequently, which makes the house the bonus part of seeing Dad.

During our conversation, Dad commented on some event that happened a long while ago, then referenced it a watershed moment in his life: when his father died. He mentioned it casually, but it broke the flow of the conversation for me.

I've been having dreams of loss frequently as of late. In the first one I had, Dad had died. I had cried the inconsolable, sobbing wracks of loss in my dream, with whole body shakes. I recall Kris trying to console me, and being completely unable to do so. I woke up crying. Only a call to Dad later that day alleviated my sorrow.

The next up to die in my dreams was Kris. That one resulted in a waking cry fest so bad that even Kris, fully alive, warm and next to me in bed, had troubles calming me.

I've had other dreams of loss since, but none as bad as those first two. Sure, the dogs died one at a time, but that's a mixed blessing sometimes.

So, when Dad mentioned his dad dying, an event had happened fifteen years ago, the memories of loss from these dreams overwhelmed me. I changed the subject quickly and asked just how he made it through the death of his dad, because I'm fairly sure his death is going to crush me, as would Mom's death or Chris' or BJ's or Kris'. Sure, Dad's had time to recover/heal from his dad's death, but making it past the point where one can start to heal, I'm not sure I can make it that far.

Dad told me that, you know what, he's had a good life. That he'd rather I celebrated his life when he was gone, rather than mourn its loss. That he'd rather I remember him happy instead of remembering him through the pain of loss.

I promised to do my best, but that, yeah, it's still going to hurt like hell.