Vacation!! in These titles mean nothing.

It's Friday morning, about a quarter to eight and I'm home at the kitchen table. Gracie is at the door wanting in. So she can then be at the door wanting out. That's a dog for you.

The man came to get the bees last night. He brought his wife since he knew there would not be climbing involved They came after dark - they'd stopped to eat in Gunder. (I've never been to the Irish Shanti, but if any of you ever come to visit me, I'll take you there. We can order the Gunderburger without the bun.)

Jim went out to deal with him, I thought I'd done enough finding him and receiving him initially - including photos and PB entry. Jim said he sealed the bee box - there were more details but I wasn't listening very well. He also said the man teaches a beginning beekeeping course at the community college in Peosta. Isn't Peosta a lovely name? It and Gunder. Welcome to Iowa they say.

Back to me being on vacation. My job still feels tentative. I feel like I might quit -= I know I will eventually. I don't think they will get rid of me now, though they can kind of encourage me to go, if you know what I mean. They are busy, there are a lot of new people. I spent a lot of last week on a big job that was kind of fascinating. Sometimes fascination turns to something else.. and I'm not entirely sure about anything.... except....

I'm on vacation. I've worked forty hours this week. Three eleven! hour days and one seven hour day. That adds up to forty, kids. We had a nice picnic at noon. I was starved and should have eaten more. Right. Anyway I declined voluntary overtime for yesterday afternoon and today. So I'm on vacation!

Feels good. I came home and took a long nap. I had sodukus in bed with me and I spent some time looking through a 1998 scrapbook/journal. Then I got up and played on the computer and pretty much did nothing but what I wanted. I drank iced coffee and later sQueezed the wine box.

This morning I got up and washed dishes and took a bath. My fingernails are very clean. I'm going to help Jim do something - not much - and then I will be free to maybe see what the top of the kitchen table looks like.

Tonight there is another art opening at the Art Center in McGregor like the one we went to in May, the one where we were picked up by the poet and the artist and ended up in a well-lit bar. This one features Native American artists (I think Jim said, when I wasn't listening very well.)

The 1998 scrapbook/journal took me back. It was actually from September 1998 to April 1999.

I was 52 years old. I was working at my regular old old job and I was working twenty hours a week at night where I work now. I had two commutes. I had a husband and a household. I wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper. I glued stuff in a scrap book. Some I stapled. I occasionally used scotch tape.

Here's a column from February of 1999. It was getting to the end of my column writing days. The editor who liked me was close to retiring and the paper was eager to make changes - including getting rid of me. I was writing fairly well though - possible because I did not have a lot of time and I had to concentrate what I wanted to say in a short period of time. Concentrations is not a bad thing and I've always wanted to be busy.

This is the dog - gone column.

"Life begins when the kids leave home and the dog dies.

"That cynical bit of wisdom assumed the puppy you got when the kids were little dies of old age about the same time the children get launched on lives of their own. It implies that good times are ahead for mom and pop when they are free of various obligations.

"The saying doesn't explain how you get there.

" The kids part isn't as clear cut as it might seem. Kids don't necessarily move out. You might not even want them to. There's also the recently in creasing tendency for them to move back with dogs and kids of their own.

"Watching dogs get old and die is a fast forward film version in how life treats us all.

" As readers know our dogs are Stinky and the Husky. The Husky is up in years, fourteen seems to be the count. He's pretty much on his last legs. We've been spending time trying to decide how to usher him out of the world.

"Stinky is eight or nine, not young but not old either. He's been a good dog. He started out a mellow puppy, and The Husky taught him everything he knew. A lot was what not to do. No unauthorized chewing or digging, no chasing cars, no leaving the premises, no biting, no chasing the livestock. Don't eat the pizza off the table. Leave the neighbor's peacocks alone. Scary how negative a dog's ten commandments really are.

"If The Husky was an aristocrat, Stinky was a more down to earth dog. He battled raccoons and moles and the occasional alert possum. He patrolled the yard, making sure machinery and livestock were in their correct places. His deep-voiced bark greeted visitor and family member alike. We always figured he needed glasses.

"Stinky never had a bath (except in the creek) or a collar but he caught a lot of pizza crusts. We'd never had a dog who knew any trick at all, so when Stinky showed an ability to grab Cheetos out of the air, we were really impressed. Over the years, a wide variety of food items were tossed to Stinky, and he caught a high percentage of them in his alert and focused manner and mandibles of doom.

"He'd just had a theme song written for his 2000 presidential campaign. He promised to go walkies with world leaders. After they saw him practically turn himself inside out with delight doing his Stinky dance, they couldn't help agreeing to do the right thing. As for zippergate, Stinky never even had a prurient thought. Of course his dogsuit doesn't have any zippers, but as far as he's concerned an intern is that quick change of direction he makes when the pig he's putting in surprises him.

"As you may have guessed, Stinky is no longer int he present tense. He died the other night. It was a brief illness. He's spent Sunday on an extended set of dog walks and mouse hunts in several hay fields. He didn't feel at all good on Monday or Tuesday. He went on the second truck ride of his life to see the vet. It turned out his liver was worn out. A great liver was Stinky, he wore it out.

"Good dog that he was, he left me with column material. He left a practically empty bag of dog food. He left The Husky with an appointment with euthanasia. The Husky sleeps by the stair door. His coat is brushed to perfection. He is ready for a trip with Stinky to see if dogs really do go to heaven."