See Dozer. Dozer is a stuffed dog. See Dozer drink. Dozer is having a martini at my father's house. See children. See children smile. The children are my nephew Jack, Sarah and Becky. See children unfazed by boozy dog. Dozer is friendly. "Hit me again, bartender," says Dozer.
Yesterday the girls and I attended a show at the local library of Celtic music, storytelling and dancing. Sort of a mini Family Von Trapp -- a jolly bearded fellow, his wisp o' a wife and their kids, an 11-year-old girl who danced beautifully and an 8-year-old boy who played a drum but looked like he wished he was almost anywhere else. I learned a lot, including the difference between Irish and Scots bagpipes (apparently playing the Irish version must be done in a seated position while also doing the chicken dance with one arm) as well as the dances themselves. I never knew the fingers above the heads were meant to symbolize a stag's horns; I always figured they were just trying to look like snooty ballet dancers or something. Whereas in the Irish version, nothing moves above the waist for some reason of misplaced modesty, perhaps. Becky wants the group to come play at her birthday in February, but these clowns don't even have a web page, it seems.
Ben is in New Jersey emptying out his mother's house, which will finally be sold next month. Except for a fridge cleanout, the house has been in suspended animation since she entered the Alzheimer's place in April 2007. She lived there for 35 years, and needless to say, she is a pack rat. It's a large job and a sad one for Ben, but fortunately he has cousins and family friends who are helping. So I'm a single mom this week until Friday, whe I get to drive with the girls for six hours over rush hour to reunite the family in time for a bar mitzvah on Saturday. On the bright side, I slept so soundly last night I couldn't believe it. It was the absence of snoring from my bed partner, I think. I feel so rested today that I may have to look into some heavy-duty earplugs for use after he gets back.