Today should have been a celebration — I am 99.9% of the way done with the work project that has consumed so much of my energy and brain for the last few months. But it was more like waking up from an obsessed dream and discovering that the laundry was piled high, the dishes filled the sink, the dust bunnies had become more like dust wolves, and things were in a general state of chaos. I didn’t feel happy, I felt overwhelmed.

I watched the dog rolling in the grass and tried to remind myself that life is about the small pleasures. Then, when I put my head back down to the computer, she went and rolled in the wet sandy dirt. Her white coat turned gray and black, and I had to laugh. I swear she smiled at me. There’s meaning there somewhere — be happy with the dirt, too? But I’m not sure what it was except that in that moment, we both felt happy despite the messy house and work to do.

I’m going to aspire to a better balance as my life changes. A little house effort every day to avoid the misery of chaos. Tomorrow I think I’ll try to balance studying for summer midterms with cleaning the house. A little of each, and a little writing. Could be a good day!

I hope that Jack Johnson won’t think this is copyright infringement. I definitely had no evil intent but every time I hear that song, it makes me think of this angel. Until I get to the last line about sharing souls, that is, and then I just think, no, how weird would that be, to share souls with my dog. Not that hers isn’t a perfect soul, but if we shared it there would be too much thinking about squirrels and basketballs and naps.

Basketball practice last night made me so glad not to have to endure it myself.

I think coaching must be a really tough job. Finding the right balance between encouraging the early-learners and pushing the competent is an art. I don’t think this coach has mastered it, but I think he’s trying to find it and that alone is worth commending. But still…I don’t know whether it was a drill or a scrimmage or what but for some endless eternity, they were all on the floor, all looking like they were playing, while pretty much three kids passed the ball to each other, took a shot, took it out, and started over. The other six mingled. At relatively high-speed.

Took R to his first basketball practice last night. Young people–even at his advanced age–are so painfully cute sometimes. Watching them stumble over each other, miss baskets, lope down the court only to get to the end and look around with a lost, “what now?” expression…it dazzled me. There were a couple kids there who knew how to play, and a couple kids with energy, and one boy who just fit inside his body really well so that every move was graceful, but the majority of them were adorably bad.

I talked with a mom, randomly, she was simply the one who had thought to bring a book and I commented on it, and she was a foster mom for a while. Her son (the graceful one) is adopted. I’ve thought about becoming a foster parent for such a long time, but it scares me. The coincidence, though, made me wonder whether I should view it as a message from the universe, answering my question of yesterday.

The basketball game with the dog isn’t working out quite as well as it did the first few days, because Zelda has decided that she likes to swim. She won’t even wait for us to get to the ball anymore: if it’s in the water, she hurls herself in after it. Once she reaches it, she drags it to the stairs and then waits. If we don’t throw it, the current created by the pump will slowly drag it away from the steps and into deeper water. She lets it get a foot or two away, and then her muscles start to bunch and her legs tremble and then…Splash! She’s back in the water. She spent more time in the pool today than I did.

The new water game uses the basketball. People get points every time we successfully throw the ball out of the pool and manage to get it to roll under the patio table. The dog tries to block it, of course. We lose points every time Zelda jumps into the water to retrieve the ball because we haven’t passed it back out to her quickly enough.

While at Costco yesterday, I spotted a present for the dog and without even looking at the price threw it into my cart. ($19.99, as it turned out.)

Now usually when I get home, the dog and I have a certain routine. I walk in the door and she goes insane, mostly trying to jump into my arms so she can get to my face. I wave her off to the bedroom, saying “Bed, Zelda, bed.” She races in, bounces onto the bed, and I come close enough that she can put her paws on my chest and nuzzle my face. She hasn’t fully greeted me until she’s had her chance to bump her head under my chin. If I’m loaded down with stuff, as sometimes happens, I go into the kitchen and unload while she weaves her way around my feet, shaking with excitement, and then we do the bed routine.

So imagine my surprise yesterday when I come in, unload, and then look around for the dog. She was nowhere to be seen. She’d gone out to the garage and was trying to get into the trunk of the car. Okay, I had brought steak home–but the steak was in the kitchen already. So what did she want in the trunk?

There wasn’t much left in there. Hmm, but there was her present–boxed, I might add. I pulled it out and she went crazy, jumping up, trying to get it, licking it. She did not even care that I was there. She whimpered with excitement.

I could understand this if the present was a dog treat. If it had smelled like beef jerky. If there was something about it that said dog. But this was none of the above. So I’ve decided that the dog is psychic.

At least she is when it comes to a new BASKETBALL! I took it out of its box, took it outside, and oh, she was happy, happy, happy. And after several silent weeks in the backyard, where she never really barked at all, she’s back to making furious amounts of noise as she tries to get the ball wherever it is she thinks it belongs.