Checking in while they still let me. Today my 84-year-old neighbor called me across the street from the home office to hide a bottle of vitamins from his wife. They have six dogs, one of which bit me. Business has been slow. 2017 started hard, but it's been 37 days since our last contract. We're going to send the boss to Manhattan in the fall to spend time with her sister, who's been trapped in the care of her toddler grandchildren, an unlikely predicament for the former owner of the best Japanese restaurant in Anchorage. The boss works hard so she gets her perks whether business is good or bad: a trip a year, 18 holes of golf a week and all the cigarettes she can smoke. Our 15-year-old blind miniature dachshund is dying, 15 months after his brother broke our hearts with his departure. 2500 mg valproic acid makes it easier to let it happen.