| older posts | categories & tags | photos | send me an email |
In my Google Reader I keep seeing Palin as Paris. This makes me think two things:
1. I think I'm on to something there. Right?
2. What does it say about me that my feeds are more likely to be about fame whores than politicos?
Um, don't answer that second one, mmkay?
My house came with a garage sitting backwards on the corner of the lot. Like a good American, I moved in and promptly filled the garage with a bunch of stuff I use occasionally--coolers, shovels, wheelbarrows, bicycles, fasteners, odd pieces of wood, tools, snow tires, etc., and parked my car in the driveway. Well I am here to tell you that when you have to drive to work in the morning with the windshield wipers going so you can see out in September, a painful future of window-scraping awaits you (on days when you are too lazy to get out of bed early enough to ride the bus). So last night I used some of those tools and fasteners to hang miscellaneous garage-items on the walls, placed others in handily hung cabinets (thanks Pop!) and stacked a few more around the perimeter. Then I opened the big door and drove the car inside. In the fourteen years this car has been a part of my family, it has never had a garage space. But it does now! Spoiled in its old age.
And just in case you were missing any mention of the puppy, he was not a good garage-cleaning helper. This may come as a shock, but I assure you that it is true. Don't worry, later in the evening he got to play with his David and chew on his Leah and go on a big walk where he got stickers in his foot.
Early mornings around these parts are starting to feel a little like fall. At 6:05 am when I let the dog out this morning, the long tufts of grass that seriously need a shearing were just a wee bit crunchy on top. The air smelled crisp and I had a sudden craving for pumpkin pie.
Little Lebowski, on the other hand, wouldn't come down the porch steps under his own steam* and had a look on his face like "you have got to be kidding, I'm going back to bed." Puppy's first brrrrr! As soon as the leaves start falling, I'm sure he'll be over it.
*That dog is getting too heavy for pick-ups. Ouch!
You may be amazed to learn that puppies are a great deal of work. Who knew? The (not as little as he used to be) guy has been living with me for almost two months now, and I am only just returning to the internet. Sorry y'all. But really. Could you resist this face? 
Obviously I could not. (FYI, that picture was taken the day he came home. He's bigger now. But still irresistable!) Anyhoot, would you like to know some stuff about him? When I first met him, a very sweet little girl handed me a wiggling mass of puppydog. As I took him from her arms, he crawled up me and proceeded to lick me all over my face. I was done. Love at first sight and all that jazz. This dog is mine!
The Story of His Name
The following is a faked-up transcript between me and my mother during his first nap at my house:
Mom: Does he seem upset that he has left his mother and his family and everything he ever knew behind?
Me: Nope. He tried to eat some snapdragons and now he's napping in the flowerbed.
Mom: So he wasn't at all troubled with leaving his family with a total stranger, going on a second big car ride in one day, and arriving in a totally new and strange place?
Me: Nope.
Mom: He's such a dude.
Me: Maybe I should name him Lebowski!
end scene
(Also, his favorite substance on planet earth? Grass. Additionally, he would enjoy it greatly if someone would let him try that stuff in beer bottles already. He's getting sick of trying to knock them over to get to the goods inside.)
The Story of How He Isn't Allowed on the Furniture:
Yeah, this dog isn't at all spoiled (in this photo from a couple weeks ago it should be obvious that he is very sleepy and also the same color as the sofa).
The Story of How He Never Misbehaves:
Honestly, potty training has gone very smoothly. His accidents are few and far between, and already he is sleeping uncrated on the floor of my bedroom. (His options: floor, super comfy giant dog bed he treats as a chew toy but does not ever sleep on, super comfy upholstered chair that he treats as a chew toy but does not ever sleep on.) He's never had an accident in the bedroom.
Even though I am totally biased and think that there is no better puppy anywhere ever, I will share that his poop doesn't smell like roses (nor does his gas). Also, he snores. But most importantly, his teeth are SHARP. The People all say puppies grow out of the biting thing, but jeepers cats, man, he can be vicious when he is hyper and wants to play. Those nips of love HURT. We start kindergarten this week. Hopefully professional help will either reassure me that this is normal or teach me some better training methods. Or both.
He also thinks it is funny to chew on pant legs, bath mats, jacket sleeves, jacket zippers, bath towels, furniture legs, furniture skirts, and pretty much anything else he can get in his mouth. Constant vigilence. I've let him have the peonies and supplied him with a never ending supply of puppy chew toys, tennis balls, frisbees, and his ultimate favorite pinecones.
Lebowski isn't at all shy, and loves to meet new people and dogs. If you want a doggie playdate just give us a call. His vet says he can go anywhere now that his immunizations are up to snuff! She also says he seems to have no nerve endings, but I think he's too enamored of the chew toys and the ladies cooing over him to be bothered with flinching when he gets his shots. Dude's got an image to maintain!
(We went camping last week:)
EEEEEEEEEE!!!! In just a few hours I get to go pick up Mr. Puppy. If the internet is very very lucky I will share a photo and some initial thoughts of him, but only if I can tear myself away. He still has no official name, but I have a whole list of considerations. My plan is to randomly call him with names off the list and see what he responds to best--basically to let him name himself.
Here's the list:
Scoresby
Charlie
Alfred
Hamilton
Mister (undoubtably he will frequently be called Mr. something-or-other)
Huston
Uncle Vanya
Moose
Señor Pawlo
Martin
I'll keep you posted, you know, while he's napping.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be thirty four, and I have to say I love life as a thirty-something. I'm the happiest and most secure I've been in years and really like the person I've grown up to be. And according to Wikipedia, I'm in good company with other July 29th babies: Clara Bow, Jean Baudrillard, Tim Gunn, and Ted Mosby! My day will begin with a call from South Africa, then off to work where in the middle of the day the best volunteer ever (a woman I call "Mom") is taking me to lunch. Indian? French? Thai? How to pick? Then dinner with the P's, maybe some hangout time with Mammacita (chilling on my patio with her last week on her birthday was so grand, I kinda want to repeat the experience!). Maybe I should call and ask her if she wants to come.
Speaking of Alisha, the pAAin don't hurt pAArty, this year's AA Extravaganza, was super big fun Saturday night. The mood was just right, and with few exceptions the guests kept it crazy but not too drunk. The overall mix of guests was random, glorious, and peppered with lots of folks from out of town. The food was delish and comedic, and a lot more people enjoy the Swayze than we could ever have hoped. I stayed up talking with Darrin and Holly until 7:30 in the a.m. when they folded and went to bed. I called them wussies and put the food away before collapsing myself. While talking all night with interesting people is incredibly enjoyable, it certainly isn't something I hope to do many more times in my life. I'm still feeling a bit discombobulated.*
I better pull it together, because my life is turning topsy turvy on Friday when Mister Puppy (name still to be determined) moves in. This week I need to finish puppy-proofing and make some final decisions about The Rules. Hopefully I can start out his life with me well rested and ready to become a lot more patient. I know that raising him is going to be hard, but I can't imagine anything more rewarding than a friendly, jovial dog waiting at home.
*note to self, in the future spend lots more time with Darrin and Holly because they are all of the awesome.
I have quite a stash. In fact, I have so much yarn stuffed into odd corners I'm not even sure what all is there or what I had intended to make with most of it. This is particularly sad since I just moved. This weekend I finished a couple pairs of socks and a sweater that I've been ignoring, not realizing that there was only about 2 hours of work left. Tadum. I also realize that I have a couple of unfinished gifts that I really need to finish up--Mammacita's Special Day socks that turned out ridiculously small and need to essentially be re-knit, and some hand-sewing affixing a knit-bit to my Pop's birthday gift. From February. La la la. I also started work on cutting teeshirt strips to make a ball for the Mason-Dixon Dizzy Rug. My intent is to make a bunch of them as washable dog-bed covers. However, I think my rotary cutter needs a new blade, actually knitting is way more fun than cutting and winding, and I'm getting a blister on my thumb. Basically, the chances of me working through the eight garbage bags full of old teeshirts I freecycled a year ago any time soon is slim. Poor puppy won't get his cool beds right away. Whatev.
Anyway, the point of this post is that even though I have plenty of stuff to work on, much of which is surely fascinating, it has come to my attention that I must make this out of some bulky weight kitchen cotton from Elmore-Pisgah as soon as is humanly possible. Duh.
