It is alive

Some sluggishness remains from the weekend and I have no real interest in conducting my study right now. I would rather go and frolic with the dog in wissahickon, throwing sticks out into the water for her to fetch, watching her splash down to shoulder depth and then paddle methodically out to the stick, losing sight of it, regaining recognition, then snatching it up in her mouth to paddle back to shore, hauling herself with her still-wintery coat out of the water, shaking off water if she feels she has the time, and then tirelessly barking, showing boundless enthusiasm for a repeat of this simple yet important game. she feels that this is her obligation, her job as dog, besides protection from mailmen, mail, and strangers in the house (whose feet she bites at if they move around too much or are too tall). she is doing me a service by getting this stick back to me that I keep losing. once done with swimming she carries the stick with her on the entire rest of the hike, only to drop it a few feet from the car before being quarantined to the "wet dog" area in the back. people love it. she gets constant attention from fellow hikers, meanderers, for her obvious devotion to carrying her stick.
and I smile at my fellow nature lovers, offer the usual anecdote about how she drops it before getting into the car, explain her old age, 77 in dog years, and everyone makes astounded noises and looks at the dog with respect. she then continues to limp along with her arthritis, the limp that the drunk russian guy on our block who was walking around with an american flag bandana last night always forgets exists, and he fusses over the dog with "what happened?"... "oh, arthritis? you have to give her MSM!" nice enough guy, just drunk. once he caught me in my gung fu uniform, wooden training sword in hand, on my way to my training spot, and quoted bruce lee to me, in his own interpretive way "bruce lee said, be like water." one of THOSE kinds of guys. the kind you never, ever, under any circumstances want to get caught in conversation with. especially when he is waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye...
a quote from F&L but still applicable to this situation.
to get back to my initial complaint, study fatigue is rampant, and I am anxious to be done. anxious to move on, find another job. something in my field that doesn't involve fucking doctors. I am starting to really dislike doctors, who don't want to have to do anything unless it is part of their job description. yeah, they're really busy, but they're the ones who decided to be doctors for fuck's sake. you thought this would be a cake walk?
but I will stop this rant while it is still in kid's shoes, as every cell in my body would rather not be at work now, and there's no need to take frustration out on doctors, nurses, work, this blog.
selah,
H