Dexter, the Herald of the Morn

Dexter gets up early.

Maybe he is still on Mountain Time. He signals the moment when all good dogs would like to go out. Sophie and Tucker immediately want to be released from the bedroom to join him. This is my signal to nudge my husband Glenn and sleepily add my voice to the morning alarm. "Let those dogs out!"

If I was feeling kind and generous, I would have let them out myself, especially since I know, I will soon be up. Guess I wasn't feeling generous. Now, we both are sitting at the dining room table working on our laptops. All three dogs are back asleep at least until a dog across the river trumpets out their morning alarm and sends them off barking.

Mornings at the Russian River are somewhat like mornings in Mill Valley. The sky is clouded with a high fog. You can hear the birds are they squawk and chirp. The air is as still as a whisper. In the far distance I can hear Hwy 116 and people heading off to work. The luxury of hearing them versus being in the same hurry up mode is something it takes me a few days to embrace.

The coffee aroma fills the house. Plans for the day will include a walk somewhere. The direction and the intensity are still a mystery.

After the busyness of the time leading up to Wine Wars, I am finding it harder than usual to just relax. I suppose by Friday, I might be getting there. Of course we will be heading back to reality on Saturday.

Glenn's father will be finding out tomorrow whether or not they will be doing open heart surgery on the 31st. He has developed a bad infection in his leg ( the result of a brace that was made for him). I know he is very nervous about the prospect of surgery. But he, like many people, is somewhat fatalistic about medical things. He has his doctors and he doesn't believe in 2nd opinions. After calling on hundreds of Doctors when I was a pharmaceutical representative for Merck, I came away with the sure knowledge, none of them are Gods. After living through my own cancer, I became convinced 2nd opinions are a necessity about a course of treatment that is a life or death choice. Despite our encouragement to do so, Glenn's Dad will not even entertain the idea of passing his case to anyone else for an opinion. This is.... frustrating and scary.

As we sit here in the Russian River, we are thinking of him. We are thinking about our clients. I am thinking about the upcoming walk.... and so you see, relaxation is somewhat of a challenge.

Somehow though...we will do it! I hear Glenn chomping on his Cheerios. This must be my cue to pour another cup of coffee, sit out on the deck, and watch as morning brightens the sky while the river drifts slowly towards the sea.