heavy

Yago and I started working out together in the mornings twice a week.  The apartment complex has been kind enough to provide a personal trainer for group sessions a few times a week.  It has been fun working out together and starting our day with a good workout.  I think the trainer finds us mildly amusing at 0600 too, so that helps.

I've been doing cursory searches for work but haven't found much.  Mickity suggested a virtual assistant and it may be something I look in to eventually.  If I could just get the darned reserve slot here I'd be satisfied but it doesn't look promising.  No one is motivated to do the required paperwork.  In the meantime I'm kind of dog-sitting for another goldendoodle.  I declined an offer for pay and instead decided to take it out in trade.  They dog-sat Rana Saturday while we hiked a trail along the coast of Rhode Island.  That worked out really well for us.

Little Ralphie keeps getting bigger, it's starting to make me sad.  He's so adorable in the clothes we picked out while school shopping, he still wears whatever I grab for him.  Schmitty, not so much anymore.  My time is so limited, it's almost heartbreaking.  It makes me wonder if I'd entertain the thought of getting pregnant again if Yago hadn't had a vasectomy.  I don't think so but ...maybe? Certainly not when I'm screaming toward 40, right?  I love doting on them even though I know that doesn't make for very productive or independent adults.  It's just that I can still comb Ralphie's hair and do things like that for him without being pushed away.  I've got a couple more years, tops, then it's over.  Schmitty's sprouting hair and pimples like no one's business.  He does still let me kiss him good night though, for that I'm thankful.