My belly is bigger ...

but so are my thighs and breasts and cheeks and heart.

The dog is leaving hair all over the house that sticks to my clothes and floats in my food. She's constantly navigating a world with shifting rules, cowering at something originating from her mind. It's spooky to watch. I lift up her chin and say, "You're a proud dog. You don't have to cower." And it actually makes a difference. She stops her cowering.

Sometimes my hearing aides die for about a day and then come back to life. It's as though they're telling me it's time for a break. They're not going to work today. They've had enough. I'm very forgiving, though. Or maybe it's just that I need them so much that I have to make amends and let them back into my life and my ears.