I had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend! My friend, Dorothy, and I went to visit KJ (another stitching friend) in Chesapeake, MD. KJ and her husband, Bob, have a beautiful house that makes you feel like you are at an elegant retreat, which is what KJ says she wanted us to feel. No kidding! It was like going to a five-star B&B, but to be with a friend. She has two guest rooms -- actually, the one I stayed in is KJ’s stitching room, but it’s so beautifully appointed that you feel like a truly valued visitor. She had fresh flowers in both rooms, and baskets of products in the bathrooms (anything you could possibly ever need). In the evening, she’d sneak up to our rooms while we were still stitching and turn on a small light and the radio (low volume), and she’d leave a cold water of Perrier on the side table, with Lindor chocolates in a beautiful little bowl.
The food was superlative. Her husband likes to cook and he prepared fantastic meals for us. We got there at 9 a.m. and he started us with a breakfast of French toast to die for. After we had stitched for a few hours, he took us out to lunch for clam chowder in Deale. For dinner (very late), he fixed a delicious dinner of steak, potatoes and asparagus. Dorothy and I helped prepare dinner on Sunday. It took us three hours to prepare the ingredients and only 20 minutes to cook it! We had the best Cajun jambalaya I’ve ever tasted, and Bob did his best Justin Wilson imitation while we worked in the kitchen! I’ve never eaten collard greens with such wonderful flavor. And for dessert, we had peaches marinated in peach schnopps and covered with Hagendaas Ice Cream. Wow! I was certain that I had gained 5 pounds over the weekend; and yet, when I weighed myself this morning, I had not gained an ounce.
While we were fixing the dinner goodies, I tried my hand at preparing Margaritas, using their new Margarita machine. It was one of those trial and error things, so I made several batches…and wouldn’t you know that each batch got better than the last? Hmmm, maybe WE got better! Yummy!
KJ’s priest joined us for dinner Sunday night and when we sat down at the table, he proceeded to tell us about one of his parishioners, a detective, who was called to a house where they’d found the owner face down in the tub, covered with Cheerios. “Oh my gosh, really?” Of course I believed him…he’s a priest for goodness sakes…but THEN he says “Yes, they are now on the trail of a cereal killer.” Moan! Groan! I couldn’t believe I fell for that!!! All those Margaritas must have addled my brain, because I'm SURE I heard that one before. I could not resist: “Now that’s just plain corny.” Then things really deteriorated after that.
H was invited to come for the weekend, but he wanted to stay home and finish the dining room. I would have loved to have him there with us, but he certainly gets more done when I'm not there. He and Bob have a lot in common. No, H is not a gourmet cook. But they both like motorcycles, and they both do major house remodeling jobs. I’ve always said there is nothing as sexy as a man who can both practice law and build a house (my favorite husband, for example). Well, Bob and KJ are both rocket scientists. So, Bob is a rocket scientist who can build a house AND cook a gourmet meal. Anyway, H agreed to come pick me up Sunday so we could all go to lunch together.
Yesterday morning, while KJ was off doing something and Bob was reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee, I asked him if he ever sat back and thought how good life was, with his beautiful wife, beautiful house, and two beautiful dogs. He smiled at me and gave me a knowing nod. Life is very good. I’m hoping that KJ will come to my house in July or August so that I can return the hospitality.
And life is very good for me, too! When we got home and I walked into the house, I saw that the dining room is finished! Most of the furniture was back in place and all we had to do was put the piano back where it belongs. No easy feat! A neighbor came over and helped us move it. Then we put the rugs down … and do you think we ate dinner in that new dining room? No way! The day was so gorgeous that we ate outside on the porch and the breeze carried the scent of my roses up to us.
Life is very good indeed! Tomorrow I will call the piano tuner. I'm in a very good mood right now.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I Dreamed of Ziggy Last Night
Last night, I dreamed that Ziggy came home to us. In the dream, I didn't know where he had been, but I was so happy to see him. I was worried that he wouldn't like Kira, that he would be jealous, and perhaps attack her. But he didn't. He was fine with her, and she was fine with him. The cats were not in this dream. Both of the dogs came to me as I sat on the sofa, Ziggy with his big beautiful expressive eyes, and Kira standing tall with her long fur and paddle feet. I remember thinking how nice it was to have them both there, and wondering how on earth our house would handle TWO German Shepherd dogs. And then I woke up.
Sure enough, Ziggy is still gone. But Kira is still here. There's only one German Shepherd dog in this house. Tonight, she was so content to sleep on her bed in the living room with us, while we ate our dinner and watched Ramsey's Nightmare Kitchens on the BBCAmerica channel. We love that potty-mouthed Ramsey.
Sure enough, Ziggy is still gone. But Kira is still here. There's only one German Shepherd dog in this house. Tonight, she was so content to sleep on her bed in the living room with us, while we ate our dinner and watched Ramsey's Nightmare Kitchens on the BBCAmerica channel. We love that potty-mouthed Ramsey.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Invasion of the Caps and Gowns
Yesterday morning, I went into DC to have coffee with a friend who lives on the Hill. Even though the sky was a little overcast, it was a gorgeous temperate day, great for tourists and locals alike. I noticed that a lot of roads were closed. I didn’t know why they were closed, but it didn’t matter to me because the route I took into DC was not affected by closures. My friend and I hadn't seen each other for months, so we sat in the back garden of a cosy little coffee house on H Street and caught up with the events of our lives. We talked about living in the Washington area and what we want to do with our old houses. She lives in a fantastic 110-year-old brick townhouse with large gracious rooms and high ceilings. I live in a 100-year-old American foursquare with a big wrap-around porch and the smell of old shellac. Some people cannot tolerate the idea of living in an old house, but we both love our old houses. We love DC, too, even though when it comes to traffic, DC is the second worst location in the country, after LA. Well, traffic be damned, we love it here.
OK, so I have no idea why I decided to drive home down Constitution Avenue afterwards. I certainly knew better! On any given day, there are droves of tourists strolling around gawking at the monuments and buildings. You can always tell the tourists by the way they dress, and the way they wander into traffic, walking out into the middle of the street to take photos of the Capitol Building and other uniquely DC sights. And the bus herds! They gather about the Mall and the Museums, holding up traffic, blocking your view of the street, jockeying for a space to park and wait for their tours to return. As annoying as all of this can be, I really enjoy watching the tourists in DC…so long as they don’t interfere too much with my commute. Now the buses …they are another thing…
Anyway, yesterday was different from the usual tourist-filled weekend day in DC. I astutely noticed this as I struggled down Constitution, from the Hill to the Potomac. In addition to the usual tourists, all along the way, there were waves of people, nicely dressed, crossing the streets, trying to flag down the limited (and insufficient) number of taxis. Sprinkled here and there were the graduates, wearing their gowns (and medals around their necks), holding their mortar boards, flanked by proud parents and other relatives. Some of the graduates looked a little like deer in the headlights, while others exuded confidence and promise. Some of the parents gawked at the monuments and buildings like tourists, but mostly they carried their graduate’s stuff. I remember how often I felt like a pack mule when the elusive offspring lived here, before going away to his elusive university life. “Here, Mom, would you hold this for me?” And darned if I wasn’t happy to hold whatever awkward or heavy thing he handed me. Proud, even.
Driving down Constitution Avenue yesterday at noon, I felt … well, nostalgic.
OK, so I have no idea why I decided to drive home down Constitution Avenue afterwards. I certainly knew better! On any given day, there are droves of tourists strolling around gawking at the monuments and buildings. You can always tell the tourists by the way they dress, and the way they wander into traffic, walking out into the middle of the street to take photos of the Capitol Building and other uniquely DC sights. And the bus herds! They gather about the Mall and the Museums, holding up traffic, blocking your view of the street, jockeying for a space to park and wait for their tours to return. As annoying as all of this can be, I really enjoy watching the tourists in DC…so long as they don’t interfere too much with my commute. Now the buses …they are another thing…
Anyway, yesterday was different from the usual tourist-filled weekend day in DC. I astutely noticed this as I struggled down Constitution, from the Hill to the Potomac. In addition to the usual tourists, all along the way, there were waves of people, nicely dressed, crossing the streets, trying to flag down the limited (and insufficient) number of taxis. Sprinkled here and there were the graduates, wearing their gowns (and medals around their necks), holding their mortar boards, flanked by proud parents and other relatives. Some of the graduates looked a little like deer in the headlights, while others exuded confidence and promise. Some of the parents gawked at the monuments and buildings like tourists, but mostly they carried their graduate’s stuff. I remember how often I felt like a pack mule when the elusive offspring lived here, before going away to his elusive university life. “Here, Mom, would you hold this for me?” And darned if I wasn’t happy to hold whatever awkward or heavy thing he handed me. Proud, even.
Driving down Constitution Avenue yesterday at noon, I felt … well, nostalgic.
Friday, May 16, 2008
This Whole Primary Process Depresses Me
I had not intended to discuss politics in my blog. Politics depress me enough without writing about them. But, yesterday, I received an e-mail from a friend (the sister of my best friend), addressed to me and a few other friends, and I can't get the whole incident out of my mind. It was a very angry e-mail, but it was not by any means directed at me. Instead, she directed her rage against mysogysm in this country and a general lack of outcry when media commentators have used gender slurs against Clinton. She is especially angry with the DNC for not protesting this treatment of Clinton.
I totally agree with her on that point, but where I don't agree is how she turned her rage on Obama, as if his existence created the mysogyny problem. Between all the angry comments about Obama, what she was really saying was that, if racist slurs had been made, the offending commentator would be fired, but not if sexist slurs were made. Don Imus was her example (not a particularly good example, because his remarks were both racist AND sexist). She and her two sisters have at various times threatened (if Obama wins) to: 1) not vote at all; 2) write in Hillary's name; or 3) vote for McCain. I agree with her that there would probably be more outcry over a racist remark than a sexist one.
Personally, I like both of the Democratic candidates, and at the same time I have my concerns about them. At any given time I might be disappointed with one or the other, but not enough to make me angry, like my friends. I have seen both candidates suffer at the hands of the other's campaign. I have heard both racist and sexist comments against them. I'm very aware of the microscopic examination each has endured. Did she or did she not? Is he or is he not? And I wonder, can anyone stand up to such scrutiny? It's hard for either of them to really focus on the issues, because in actuality, they have very similar stands. Obviously, they are not exactly the same on the issues, but in essence, they are very close. After all, they are both Democrats. The internet is that wonderful thing that allows you to check out their websites at any time of the day or night.
But here's what got me in trouble. My friends (the sisters) know I was once a Republican, a "personal failing" they tried to ignore for the most part in those days long ago. Then I became an Independent, and that lasted a decade. But now, I freely admit that I became so disillusioned by the Republican party that I am now a Democrat. OK, so whether you think that's a failing or not, I am now of the same party as my friend and her sisters. After yesterday's e-mail exchange, I wonder if I am of the same party after all.
I have received many angry e-mail messages from friends during this primary process (for and against both candidates). I have not responded to them because ...well, maybe I thought I was taking the moral high-ground by not getting into it, but really because it's more difficult to write an argument than to speak it. Maybe I knew subconsciously that what happened yesterday would in fact happen if I responded. I knew better than to get these particular friends started. But for some stupid reason or another unknown to me, I responded to this last one. In essence, I said that, as a Democrat, I intended to vote Democratic in November, whether for Obama or Clinton. And I added: Not everyone who supports Obama is a mysogynist and not everyone who supports Clinton is a racist. This only unleashed a tirade from my best friend, basically, an attack on me for not sharing her opinion (something distressingly familiar to what I used to endure way back when I was a dreaded Republican).
After a couple more misguided e-mails on both our parts (probably arguing across each other), I cut the exchange short saying that I believe friendships will be lost over this election, and I don't want ours to be among them. But what I started thinking about was this: My reaction was to my friend's Clinton-supporter aggression toward Obama, a reaction I also have when Obama supporters turn their agression on Clinton. We're not talking about Republicans here...we are talking about Democrats against Democrats. Somehow, we have become like the Republican party I left long ago inthat we are no longer a unified party. In my opinion, it has put the Dems in a real position of weakness, and that is the shame of it.
I believe that this country suffers from both mysogyny AND racism (and a few other -isms and phobias as well), and sadly, they are not going away any time soon. What I focus on is this: setting mysogyny and racism aside, we have reached a fantastic point in history where we have both a white woman and a black man running for the office of president, and whichever one gets the nod as the Democratic candidate has a very real possibility of making it to that top position. That is, if the Democrats don't sabatoge their chances by doing what my friends threaten: either to stay home and not vote (ok by me because both Maryland and California tend to vote Democratic anyway) or to vote for McCain.
When all is said and done, I recognize that, in their own endearing way, my friends are probably making their displeasure with the process known by making such threats. Still, the whole experience of friend attacking friend has left me very unsettled. I may regret posting this entry as much as I regret having responded to my friend's e-mail in the first place. But here it is anyway.
PS-- Since writing this entry a couple of hours ago, I have gotten a phone call from my friend, who said she was calling me because it's much better to talk in person than by e-mail, and then we were all lovey-dovey-boo-hoo-I'm-so-sorry-and-you-know-I-love-you-more-than-my-luggage. So all is well with her. Then I tried to call her sister (my best friend), left her a message, and she called me back. The conversation was very stiff (she was on her way out to dinner with another friend), but I must assume all is well with her, too. So, no more politics. From now on, I will delete political e-mails and I will never respond to them any more. I promise. Yep, I promise.
I totally agree with her on that point, but where I don't agree is how she turned her rage on Obama, as if his existence created the mysogyny problem. Between all the angry comments about Obama, what she was really saying was that, if racist slurs had been made, the offending commentator would be fired, but not if sexist slurs were made. Don Imus was her example (not a particularly good example, because his remarks were both racist AND sexist). She and her two sisters have at various times threatened (if Obama wins) to: 1) not vote at all; 2) write in Hillary's name; or 3) vote for McCain. I agree with her that there would probably be more outcry over a racist remark than a sexist one.
Personally, I like both of the Democratic candidates, and at the same time I have my concerns about them. At any given time I might be disappointed with one or the other, but not enough to make me angry, like my friends. I have seen both candidates suffer at the hands of the other's campaign. I have heard both racist and sexist comments against them. I'm very aware of the microscopic examination each has endured. Did she or did she not? Is he or is he not? And I wonder, can anyone stand up to such scrutiny? It's hard for either of them to really focus on the issues, because in actuality, they have very similar stands. Obviously, they are not exactly the same on the issues, but in essence, they are very close. After all, they are both Democrats. The internet is that wonderful thing that allows you to check out their websites at any time of the day or night.
But here's what got me in trouble. My friends (the sisters) know I was once a Republican, a "personal failing" they tried to ignore for the most part in those days long ago. Then I became an Independent, and that lasted a decade. But now, I freely admit that I became so disillusioned by the Republican party that I am now a Democrat. OK, so whether you think that's a failing or not, I am now of the same party as my friend and her sisters. After yesterday's e-mail exchange, I wonder if I am of the same party after all.
I have received many angry e-mail messages from friends during this primary process (for and against both candidates). I have not responded to them because ...well, maybe I thought I was taking the moral high-ground by not getting into it, but really because it's more difficult to write an argument than to speak it. Maybe I knew subconsciously that what happened yesterday would in fact happen if I responded. I knew better than to get these particular friends started. But for some stupid reason or another unknown to me, I responded to this last one. In essence, I said that, as a Democrat, I intended to vote Democratic in November, whether for Obama or Clinton. And I added: Not everyone who supports Obama is a mysogynist and not everyone who supports Clinton is a racist. This only unleashed a tirade from my best friend, basically, an attack on me for not sharing her opinion (something distressingly familiar to what I used to endure way back when I was a dreaded Republican).
After a couple more misguided e-mails on both our parts (probably arguing across each other), I cut the exchange short saying that I believe friendships will be lost over this election, and I don't want ours to be among them. But what I started thinking about was this: My reaction was to my friend's Clinton-supporter aggression toward Obama, a reaction I also have when Obama supporters turn their agression on Clinton. We're not talking about Republicans here...we are talking about Democrats against Democrats. Somehow, we have become like the Republican party I left long ago inthat we are no longer a unified party. In my opinion, it has put the Dems in a real position of weakness, and that is the shame of it.
I believe that this country suffers from both mysogyny AND racism (and a few other -isms and phobias as well), and sadly, they are not going away any time soon. What I focus on is this: setting mysogyny and racism aside, we have reached a fantastic point in history where we have both a white woman and a black man running for the office of president, and whichever one gets the nod as the Democratic candidate has a very real possibility of making it to that top position. That is, if the Democrats don't sabatoge their chances by doing what my friends threaten: either to stay home and not vote (ok by me because both Maryland and California tend to vote Democratic anyway) or to vote for McCain.
When all is said and done, I recognize that, in their own endearing way, my friends are probably making their displeasure with the process known by making such threats. Still, the whole experience of friend attacking friend has left me very unsettled. I may regret posting this entry as much as I regret having responded to my friend's e-mail in the first place. But here it is anyway.
PS-- Since writing this entry a couple of hours ago, I have gotten a phone call from my friend, who said she was calling me because it's much better to talk in person than by e-mail, and then we were all lovey-dovey-boo-hoo-I'm-so-sorry-and-you-know-I-love-you-more-than-my-luggage. So all is well with her. Then I tried to call her sister (my best friend), left her a message, and she called me back. The conversation was very stiff (she was on her way out to dinner with another friend), but I must assume all is well with her, too. So, no more politics. From now on, I will delete political e-mails and I will never respond to them any more. I promise. Yep, I promise.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Doom and Gloom
For a couple of weeks, I have had this sense of foreboding...like those low rainclouds we've had lately. It comes and goes. Essentially, I still feel it, but it disappears when I am busy doing something creative or spending time with H or friends. My menagerie has the ability to keep me light-hearted. They are always doing something funny or endearing (and, sometimes something downright disgusting). But the cats and dog are not always with me to keep me up.
I think the feeling of doom comes from a combination of things. POLITICS: this Primary process has gone on way too long. Next time, it should not start so early. The in-fighting among the democrats is depressing. THE WAR: My friend's son just went back to Iraq for his second tour...his first tour lasted four years. He's a great kid and I worry about him. GAS PRICES: for whatever reason the prices are skyrocketing, I hate to see people lose their businesses and jobs (and it's always the smaller businesses that get the worst end of the stick). Sadly, prices will continue to escalate. ECONOMICS: between the sub-prime mortgage fiasco and the greed of credit card companies, I think we have not begun to see the damage. There are so many more people who will be going bankrupt before all is said and done. Not everyone can tell a credit card company to take a hike when they pull another outrageous fee out of their hat. I felt extremely self-righteous when I told one credit card company to close my account and get lost after they raised my interest rate to 15.9%. When asked why, they told me it had nothing to do with my credit rating (which, I'm glad to say, is excellent). It was just a business decision affecting almost all of their customers. When they refused to lower it again, I told them what they could do with that credit card. I love my shredder. But not everyone can do that. More people SHOULD do that, but they don't. GLOBAL WARMING: Too depressing to talk about. I try to do my tiny little part by not driving too much (and luckily I live very close to where I work), by recycling everything I can possibly recycle. It's just too sad and gloomy. FRIENDS: my friend, Lea, just spent the night in the hospital last night when she experienced pressure in her chest. They kept her for observation. But as of today the good news is that it did not appear to be cardiac related. Personally, I think she is under a great deal of stress.
I have a really bad headache right now. I just got back from the dermatologist, who froze three tiny "pre-cancerous" areas on my forehead at the hairline. Throb, throb! Being a fair-skinned redhead can be a pain in the you-know-what. She says not to worry because I've done a good job keeping out of the sun and taking care of my skin but it's not easy. And if I'd done such a "good job" why do I have this "pre-cancerous" stuff, huh? What's that all about? She says "pre-cancerous" is benign. It just means I have to keep going in to see her every six months to check it out. What a headache.
The elusive offspring called this morning to say the album launch was successful. This is his acapella group's second album. I'm supposed to be getting a copy of it as a Mother's Day gift...but that may happen when we get to Scotland in June. He has his first exam this coming Saturday, then he has two more, all spaced out over 9 or 10 days. They all involve such things as multivariable calculus, and lasers, and the like. My singing physicist. Can't wait to see him. He always becomes less elusive when exams are looming (oh, that rhymes with my doom and gloom title!).
So, this seems to be a really rambling post, without any real purpose except to...well...ramble. I'm going to go cut some of my gorgeous roses (they have been so happy with all this rain). I'll just have to keep them from my little Morticia cat, Wolfie. There's nothing like walking in and finding all the rose heads laying on the table around the vase, and and all the stems sticking up out of the vase.
I think the feeling of doom comes from a combination of things. POLITICS: this Primary process has gone on way too long. Next time, it should not start so early. The in-fighting among the democrats is depressing. THE WAR: My friend's son just went back to Iraq for his second tour...his first tour lasted four years. He's a great kid and I worry about him. GAS PRICES: for whatever reason the prices are skyrocketing, I hate to see people lose their businesses and jobs (and it's always the smaller businesses that get the worst end of the stick). Sadly, prices will continue to escalate. ECONOMICS: between the sub-prime mortgage fiasco and the greed of credit card companies, I think we have not begun to see the damage. There are so many more people who will be going bankrupt before all is said and done. Not everyone can tell a credit card company to take a hike when they pull another outrageous fee out of their hat. I felt extremely self-righteous when I told one credit card company to close my account and get lost after they raised my interest rate to 15.9%. When asked why, they told me it had nothing to do with my credit rating (which, I'm glad to say, is excellent). It was just a business decision affecting almost all of their customers. When they refused to lower it again, I told them what they could do with that credit card. I love my shredder. But not everyone can do that. More people SHOULD do that, but they don't. GLOBAL WARMING: Too depressing to talk about. I try to do my tiny little part by not driving too much (and luckily I live very close to where I work), by recycling everything I can possibly recycle. It's just too sad and gloomy. FRIENDS: my friend, Lea, just spent the night in the hospital last night when she experienced pressure in her chest. They kept her for observation. But as of today the good news is that it did not appear to be cardiac related. Personally, I think she is under a great deal of stress.
I have a really bad headache right now. I just got back from the dermatologist, who froze three tiny "pre-cancerous" areas on my forehead at the hairline. Throb, throb! Being a fair-skinned redhead can be a pain in the you-know-what. She says not to worry because I've done a good job keeping out of the sun and taking care of my skin but it's not easy. And if I'd done such a "good job" why do I have this "pre-cancerous" stuff, huh? What's that all about? She says "pre-cancerous" is benign. It just means I have to keep going in to see her every six months to check it out. What a headache.
The elusive offspring called this morning to say the album launch was successful. This is his acapella group's second album. I'm supposed to be getting a copy of it as a Mother's Day gift...but that may happen when we get to Scotland in June. He has his first exam this coming Saturday, then he has two more, all spaced out over 9 or 10 days. They all involve such things as multivariable calculus, and lasers, and the like. My singing physicist. Can't wait to see him. He always becomes less elusive when exams are looming (oh, that rhymes with my doom and gloom title!).
So, this seems to be a really rambling post, without any real purpose except to...well...ramble. I'm going to go cut some of my gorgeous roses (they have been so happy with all this rain). I'll just have to keep them from my little Morticia cat, Wolfie. There's nothing like walking in and finding all the rose heads laying on the table around the vase, and and all the stems sticking up out of the vase.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Sweet Dog
We'd really like to get Kira on a dry-food diet. Mostly because the vet says the dry food is healthier for her and really keeps her teeth clean. Also I don't trust canned food after all the news last year about contamination found in so many brands of dog food and cat food, leading to illness and in some cases death of pets. But we want to get more weight on that dog. So we are in a tough spot.
She's a little bit of a brat, too. She loves the canned food, and will deign eat the kibbles if they are covered with canned food. So, yesterday afternoon, I tried an experiment and dropped about a dozen kibbles in Kira's bowl to see if she would eat them. She sniffed them and looked back at me with disappointment...clearly not intending to eat those dried up things.
But the cats zoomed right in on them. "Hey," I said to Kira, "That's YOUR dinner. The cats are going to eat it up." I swear that dog knew what I was saying. She immediately stuck her head in and started lifting out kibbles and eating them. She was so gentle! Both cats' heads were in the bowl, and she just worked around them. Then when there were just two kibbles left, she moved Wolfie away by just moving her head and she finished the two kibbles off. I wish I'd had a camera with me at the time. She is very sweet.
I wish I had my camera right now! Daily is doing his thing with one of my blouses. When the soft afghan is not available, I guess he just has to make do with what's around. He's wierd.
Must go. A friend is stopping by this evening.
She's a little bit of a brat, too. She loves the canned food, and will deign eat the kibbles if they are covered with canned food. So, yesterday afternoon, I tried an experiment and dropped about a dozen kibbles in Kira's bowl to see if she would eat them. She sniffed them and looked back at me with disappointment...clearly not intending to eat those dried up things.
But the cats zoomed right in on them. "Hey," I said to Kira, "That's YOUR dinner. The cats are going to eat it up." I swear that dog knew what I was saying. She immediately stuck her head in and started lifting out kibbles and eating them. She was so gentle! Both cats' heads were in the bowl, and she just worked around them. Then when there were just two kibbles left, she moved Wolfie away by just moving her head and she finished the two kibbles off. I wish I'd had a camera with me at the time. She is very sweet.
I wish I had my camera right now! Daily is doing his thing with one of my blouses. When the soft afghan is not available, I guess he just has to make do with what's around. He's wierd.
Must go. A friend is stopping by this evening.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Rain, rain and more rain
It's been raining steadily since 3:00 yesterday afternoon. The basement has a shim of water on the concrete (which is why I call it the dungeon), but luckily, no flooding. There is a crack in the floor where the water came bubbling UP yesterday, but it went straight into the drain. Thank goodness we are on a hill. Kira seems to be completely unafraid of rain or thunder. Ziggy hated thunder storms, or any loud noises. He really hated to go outside in the rain, but he liked to play in water (especially a running sprinkler hose). Kira, on the other hand, is perfectly willing to be in the rain. In fact, she is perfectly willing to lay down in the wet grass in the rain. I like the rain, too. I just want to keep warm in it.
This reminds me of a story. In 2002, I took my mom to Scotland. It does indeed rain a lot in Scotland, and I really love it. It smells wonderful. It feels wonderful. It makes me want to PAINT. Anyway, enough of that. Back to the story. A friend of mine joined us in Edinburgh and went out to the Western Highlands with us, specifically Fort William. One afternoon, we left the B&B to walk around the pedestrian mall and visit the shops. There was a slight mist in the air; I wouldn't even call it a drizzle. Less than 15 minutes into the walk, my mom (who was wearing one of those ridiculous clear plastic things on her head, in addition to holding an umbrella the size of New Jersey) turned to me in exasperation: "Please call me a taxi. I want to go back to the B&B. I have to get out of this pouring rain."
So we sent her back to the very comfy B&B, where the host and hostess graciously served her tea and cakes in front of the fireplace in a beautifully appointed solarium (yes, even in Scotland, they have solariums). Of course, my friend and I had a wonderful time, stopping in every pub so that we could try a different kind of scotch in each one. In Scotland, there are hundreds of yummy varieties, because it is, after all, Scotland. I brought home a little sample bottle of each one we tried so my favorite husband (who had stayed home with the then-not-so-elusive offspring) could share in the experience. Another thing we were able to do was listen to live music in smokey pubs...kilted musicians singing and playing bagpipes. Mom would not have tolerated the smokey atmosphere and loud music. Oooch, but it was lovely!
I think my love of Scotland started when I was very young, long before I ever saw the country, and I'm sure it has to do with race memory. I especially love the ruggedness of the Western Highlands. I'm not really so far removed from my Scottish heritage, only a few generations back. Of course, I believe my family clan (Scott) was a lowland clan, and judging by the way I love the Scottish sheep, there were probably some sheep thieves back there somewhere. But I still absolutely love the highlands.
Someday, I'd like to do a really thorough research into that part of my family tree. Separate the passed-down stories from reality. At any rate, I can't wait to get back there in June! I can smell it now!
Ok, so we took Kira in and weighed her yesterday. What a disappointment to find out we have only put THREE pounds on her!!! She eats now. But she's still not putting on the pounds the way I had hoped. We have at least 15 pounds to go. At a minimum. You can still feel her spine and hipbones, but not as sharply as when we got her. People aren't looking at us as if we are abusing her. I think that's because her coat is getting so lush. Obviously the food is doing a good job of shining and thickening her coat. Scarey thought: is it the thicker coat that gives her more weight? Right after we got her, the vet confirmed that she does NOT have worms. On the other hand, maybe I should be glad she's putting it on slowly, because it is a healthier way to do it.
This reminds me of a story. In 2002, I took my mom to Scotland. It does indeed rain a lot in Scotland, and I really love it. It smells wonderful. It feels wonderful. It makes me want to PAINT. Anyway, enough of that. Back to the story. A friend of mine joined us in Edinburgh and went out to the Western Highlands with us, specifically Fort William. One afternoon, we left the B&B to walk around the pedestrian mall and visit the shops. There was a slight mist in the air; I wouldn't even call it a drizzle. Less than 15 minutes into the walk, my mom (who was wearing one of those ridiculous clear plastic things on her head, in addition to holding an umbrella the size of New Jersey) turned to me in exasperation: "Please call me a taxi. I want to go back to the B&B. I have to get out of this pouring rain."
So we sent her back to the very comfy B&B, where the host and hostess graciously served her tea and cakes in front of the fireplace in a beautifully appointed solarium (yes, even in Scotland, they have solariums). Of course, my friend and I had a wonderful time, stopping in every pub so that we could try a different kind of scotch in each one. In Scotland, there are hundreds of yummy varieties, because it is, after all, Scotland. I brought home a little sample bottle of each one we tried so my favorite husband (who had stayed home with the then-not-so-elusive offspring) could share in the experience. Another thing we were able to do was listen to live music in smokey pubs...kilted musicians singing and playing bagpipes. Mom would not have tolerated the smokey atmosphere and loud music. Oooch, but it was lovely!
I think my love of Scotland started when I was very young, long before I ever saw the country, and I'm sure it has to do with race memory. I especially love the ruggedness of the Western Highlands. I'm not really so far removed from my Scottish heritage, only a few generations back. Of course, I believe my family clan (Scott) was a lowland clan, and judging by the way I love the Scottish sheep, there were probably some sheep thieves back there somewhere. But I still absolutely love the highlands.
Someday, I'd like to do a really thorough research into that part of my family tree. Separate the passed-down stories from reality. At any rate, I can't wait to get back there in June! I can smell it now!
Ok, so we took Kira in and weighed her yesterday. What a disappointment to find out we have only put THREE pounds on her!!! She eats now. But she's still not putting on the pounds the way I had hoped. We have at least 15 pounds to go. At a minimum. You can still feel her spine and hipbones, but not as sharply as when we got her. People aren't looking at us as if we are abusing her. I think that's because her coat is getting so lush. Obviously the food is doing a good job of shining and thickening her coat. Scarey thought: is it the thicker coat that gives her more weight? Right after we got her, the vet confirmed that she does NOT have worms. On the other hand, maybe I should be glad she's putting it on slowly, because it is a healthier way to do it.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Slight Setback
This is my day to work from home. All was well for the morning, but I decided to go out at 12:30 to check out a new needlepoint store not far from me and pick up lunch, too. Thank goodness I put Kira and the cats in the family room. When I got back, there was a familiar aroma, one I had hoped not to smell any more. Yep, she did the deed. In the family room. On the tile. She pooped AND peed. And the pee soaked the bottom of a box, one of about 10 I have piled in the room waiting for me to finish going through the old papers. One of the disadvantages of being a lawyer is that you never want to throw anything away. It's an affliction they give you when you go to law school. Or you get it when you see what happens when people don't have necessary documents -- even a simple 2-inch by 2-inch piece of paper that shows you paid off a $7000 loan, which is from my own experience, of course, and a whole story on its own.
Anyway, I spent an hour cleaning the floor, and emptied the contents of the box; yikes, they were photos! Combined the photos into another box. I did all this without showing any anger or impatience, but with a real air of martyrdom. And Kira knew. She has been very subdued.
So, I'm going to knock off work now and go through papers. I have a vanilla candle burning to help get rid of that lovely stinky odor. I wonder why she didn't do it outside. Maybe it's because we have had solid rain for a day. Maybe she didn't want to stand out in the rain and do it.
Anyway, I spent an hour cleaning the floor, and emptied the contents of the box; yikes, they were photos! Combined the photos into another box. I did all this without showing any anger or impatience, but with a real air of martyrdom. And Kira knew. She has been very subdued.
So, I'm going to knock off work now and go through papers. I have a vanilla candle burning to help get rid of that lovely stinky odor. I wonder why she didn't do it outside. Maybe it's because we have had solid rain for a day. Maybe she didn't want to stand out in the rain and do it.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Tomato Tale (or Circular Reasoning)
During the spring last year, I decided to take a day off from work. A mental health day, as it were. Like it has been this spring, the weather was gorgeous, and I left the front door open so that Ziggy could look out and watch for the Truck God. Every once in a while he would stand up and turn around in a circle several times and then lay down again and look outside. It's like he thought if he spun around enough, H would come home in the truck. But this was before noon, and he had some waiting to do.
I went back through the kitchen to open windows in the family room to allow a nice cross-breeze to come through the house, and as I walked through the kitchen, I saw that the three tomatoes I had left in a bowl on the counter were not in the bowl any more. They were positioned around the bowl. "Why did H take these tomatoes out of the bowl," I wondered, and I put them back into the bowl.
Suddenly I remembered that I had left the door to our bedroom open. A few years ago I knitted a VERY soft afghan that I leave on the foot of our bed. Daily loves that afghan. He stands on top of it, holding part of it in his teeth, and turns around and around, with his eyes crossed and all four feet making biscuits on the afghan, twisting the part that he has in his mouth. "Awwww," a friend said when I told her about this phenomenon, "he thinks it's his mommy." No. Not quite. He thinks it's a little girl kitty. Trust me. I know. Every once in a while I'll hear the sound of him jumping off the bed (Whump!) and I know where he's been and what he's been up to. Sure enough, he trots down the stairs, flops onto the rug in the living room and looks so self-satisfied that you'd expect him to light up a cigarette!
So on this fine day I that I chose to stay home, I forgot to close the bedroom door. That had to be remedied! I ran past the dog, spinning at the door waiting for the Truck God, and up the stairs to find Daily, standing on top of the bed, with a part of the soft afghan twisted up in his teeth, looking cross-eyed at me. I scooped him up, rearranged the afghan nicely on the bed again, and took him out of the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind me.
Down the stairs we went, past the dog spinning in the door waiting for the Truck God. I dropped Daily on the floor in the living room and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, and what did I see? The tomatoes...OUT of the bowl again. Huh??? I looked around. No one there. So I put the tomatoes back in the bowl, started the tea kettle, and went back past the spinning dog to the living room, where Daily was smoking his imaginary cigarette. At which point I heard a noise in the kitchen.
Aha! I raced past the spinning dog and smoking cat into the kitchen to find Wolfie, standing on top of the kitchen counter, lifting the tomatoes out of the bowl by their stems! He turned to look at me, with one of the tomatoes still in his teeth! What the!!!
And that's my story about a spinning dog named Ziggy, a smoking cat named Daily, and a little four-legged chef named Wolfie. EO may be gone, but there is never a dull moment in our household.
I went back through the kitchen to open windows in the family room to allow a nice cross-breeze to come through the house, and as I walked through the kitchen, I saw that the three tomatoes I had left in a bowl on the counter were not in the bowl any more. They were positioned around the bowl. "Why did H take these tomatoes out of the bowl," I wondered, and I put them back into the bowl.
Suddenly I remembered that I had left the door to our bedroom open. A few years ago I knitted a VERY soft afghan that I leave on the foot of our bed. Daily loves that afghan. He stands on top of it, holding part of it in his teeth, and turns around and around, with his eyes crossed and all four feet making biscuits on the afghan, twisting the part that he has in his mouth. "Awwww," a friend said when I told her about this phenomenon, "he thinks it's his mommy." No. Not quite. He thinks it's a little girl kitty. Trust me. I know. Every once in a while I'll hear the sound of him jumping off the bed (Whump!) and I know where he's been and what he's been up to. Sure enough, he trots down the stairs, flops onto the rug in the living room and looks so self-satisfied that you'd expect him to light up a cigarette!
So on this fine day I that I chose to stay home, I forgot to close the bedroom door. That had to be remedied! I ran past the dog, spinning at the door waiting for the Truck God, and up the stairs to find Daily, standing on top of the bed, with a part of the soft afghan twisted up in his teeth, looking cross-eyed at me. I scooped him up, rearranged the afghan nicely on the bed again, and took him out of the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind me.
Down the stairs we went, past the dog spinning in the door waiting for the Truck God. I dropped Daily on the floor in the living room and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, and what did I see? The tomatoes...OUT of the bowl again. Huh??? I looked around. No one there. So I put the tomatoes back in the bowl, started the tea kettle, and went back past the spinning dog to the living room, where Daily was smoking his imaginary cigarette. At which point I heard a noise in the kitchen.
Aha! I raced past the spinning dog and smoking cat into the kitchen to find Wolfie, standing on top of the kitchen counter, lifting the tomatoes out of the bowl by their stems! He turned to look at me, with one of the tomatoes still in his teeth! What the!!!
And that's my story about a spinning dog named Ziggy, a smoking cat named Daily, and a little four-legged chef named Wolfie. EO may be gone, but there is never a dull moment in our household.
This n That
EO has a little bit of a hangover today... I just talked to him. He's very subdued, but it's clear he is looking forward to our visit. Me, too! I love Scotland! (Oh, and I love EO, too, of course.)
The other night when I got home from work, the weather was fantastic. So I poured a glass of wine and took Kira out onto our big wraparound porch and opened the mail. We live on a cul-de-sac that leads into a bike path, and as a result we have more bike and foot traffic than most places. I can’t begin to count all the people who walk their dogs up the street. Kira barked at the first dog that walked by and I shushed her. She “boofed” at the next dog. When the third one went by, she was quiet. I told her what a good girl she was. She was quiet with the next three or four dogs. I was so proud of her. Then a neighbor said hi to me as she walked by, and Kira started barking. So we still need to work on it. But it's great that my vision has come true: Me, sitting on the front porch drinking a glass of wine after a day at work, and my faithful companion, Kira, sitting next to me.
In conjunction with trying to be the calm and assertive pack leader recommended by Cesar Millan, I have also been reading a book called “The Dog Bible” which says you should ignore the bad behavior and reward the good behavior. It seems to work very well for some things. For example, she used to get overly excited when I came home from work, barking and wining, rearing up and putting her paws on me. I like that she is happy to see me (in fact, I love that she's happy to see me), but I don’t want her leaping up on me or knocking me over. I want her to understand that I will pay attention to her after I have put down my bags down and brought in the mail. So, I’ve started ignoring her until she becomes calm and still. I’ve even turned my back to her when she starts to leap up, which she seems to understand. It must be some sort of doggy language. Then as soon as she has relaxed (which happens quickly now), I turn and give her lots of hugs and kisses. She loves hugs and kisses; she is female, after all. And she is SO smart (she is female, after all). In only three days she had figured it all out. Now she waits politely while I put my things down…AND while I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. Then I come downstairs again and greet her and we go outside so she can do her business. She is very attached to me. I’ve never had a dog of my own, and it’s so gratifying that she’s mine. I don't know what I did to deserve such devotion from a dog.
Daily is trying to make a break for it these days. I opened the door yesterday to let Kira out to do her business, and Daily scooted right under her legs and out the door. I didn't realise it right away. Of course, he's such a goof: he meowed the moment he went out, so, although I did not SEE him go out (because he was under Kira), I heard him. It's like Sadie (long gone now) used to do when she did something naughty. I would not know that she had taken small articles of clothing out of the laundry basket (yes, I'm talking about those) and put them in places of her own choosing, like under the sofa. But when I looked at her, she'd make this loud "meow" as if to say "Nothing." It was an unmistakable meow. And I'd know immediately that I needed to look around to see what she had done. It looks like Daily has the same vocal affliction. So I captured him, brought him back inside the house, and gave him a severe dose of corporal cuddling as recommended by those clever engineers on youtube:
I also call it his "Daily abuse." My little Wolfie cat is a naughty boy as well. He's my little devil cat. I have a magnificent rose garden in front of the house, and I have to be very careful about bringing in cuttings. Like Morticia on the Adamms Family, Wolfie likes to bite the heads off of long-stemmed roses and just leave the stems and thorns. He is a master at redecorating.
Maybe tomorrow I'll tell the Tomato Tale.
The other night when I got home from work, the weather was fantastic. So I poured a glass of wine and took Kira out onto our big wraparound porch and opened the mail. We live on a cul-de-sac that leads into a bike path, and as a result we have more bike and foot traffic than most places. I can’t begin to count all the people who walk their dogs up the street. Kira barked at the first dog that walked by and I shushed her. She “boofed” at the next dog. When the third one went by, she was quiet. I told her what a good girl she was. She was quiet with the next three or four dogs. I was so proud of her. Then a neighbor said hi to me as she walked by, and Kira started barking. So we still need to work on it. But it's great that my vision has come true: Me, sitting on the front porch drinking a glass of wine after a day at work, and my faithful companion, Kira, sitting next to me.
In conjunction with trying to be the calm and assertive pack leader recommended by Cesar Millan, I have also been reading a book called “The Dog Bible” which says you should ignore the bad behavior and reward the good behavior. It seems to work very well for some things. For example, she used to get overly excited when I came home from work, barking and wining, rearing up and putting her paws on me. I like that she is happy to see me (in fact, I love that she's happy to see me), but I don’t want her leaping up on me or knocking me over. I want her to understand that I will pay attention to her after I have put down my bags down and brought in the mail. So, I’ve started ignoring her until she becomes calm and still. I’ve even turned my back to her when she starts to leap up, which she seems to understand. It must be some sort of doggy language. Then as soon as she has relaxed (which happens quickly now), I turn and give her lots of hugs and kisses. She loves hugs and kisses; she is female, after all. And she is SO smart (she is female, after all). In only three days she had figured it all out. Now she waits politely while I put my things down…AND while I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. Then I come downstairs again and greet her and we go outside so she can do her business. She is very attached to me. I’ve never had a dog of my own, and it’s so gratifying that she’s mine. I don't know what I did to deserve such devotion from a dog.
Daily is trying to make a break for it these days. I opened the door yesterday to let Kira out to do her business, and Daily scooted right under her legs and out the door. I didn't realise it right away. Of course, he's such a goof: he meowed the moment he went out, so, although I did not SEE him go out (because he was under Kira), I heard him. It's like Sadie (long gone now) used to do when she did something naughty. I would not know that she had taken small articles of clothing out of the laundry basket (yes, I'm talking about those) and put them in places of her own choosing, like under the sofa. But when I looked at her, she'd make this loud "meow" as if to say "Nothing." It was an unmistakable meow. And I'd know immediately that I needed to look around to see what she had done. It looks like Daily has the same vocal affliction. So I captured him, brought him back inside the house, and gave him a severe dose of corporal cuddling as recommended by those clever engineers on youtube:
I also call it his "Daily abuse." My little Wolfie cat is a naughty boy as well. He's my little devil cat. I have a magnificent rose garden in front of the house, and I have to be very careful about bringing in cuttings. Like Morticia on the Adamms Family, Wolfie likes to bite the heads off of long-stemmed roses and just leave the stems and thorns. He is a master at redecorating.
Maybe tomorrow I'll tell the Tomato Tale.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Birthday bonfire
We just got off the phone with the quite enebriated and not-so-elusive 21-year-old offspring. It is 2:00 a.m. in Scotland and he and 20 of his closest friends have built a bonfire on the shore of the North Sea in honor of his BD. They brought their own bottles of Scotch and beer to help celebrate the event. His experience up until now has been far more interesting than mine was. My entire school experience was in Texas. That's not to say Texas isn't interesting, because Texas is wonderful. But the EO is not just out of Virginia for his education; he's out of the country. And his education is certainly more than academic, I'd say. I once told him that he should cherish these years at university...they are the years he will spend the rest of his life trying to recapture. Lucky EO.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Happy Birthday Elusive Offspring
On the eve of the elusive offspring's 21st birthday, I find myself thinking about what I was doing 21 years ago at this time. Well, I was drugged and working hard to help the little guy to make an appearance. It's hard to believe the six-foot-two ginger-head was once a mere nine pounds. My cats weigh more than that! Once he got here, my life was completely devoted to him. Day and night. We were lucky that he was such an easy-going baby. I'd rock him to sleep every night at 7:00, singing stuff like "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and "If I Had a Hammer" and "Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley" and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone"...all such lovely happy songs for a baby, right? But hey, I knew the words.
He started sleeping through the night at three months. It was a bit scarey the morning we awoke at 7:00 and I looked at H and said "Oh, I didn't wake up when you took care of the baby last night." He looked at me "I thought YOU took care of him." And we both rushed to the bassinette to make sure he was allright, and there he was, doing the wake-up stretch. From then on, he slept from 7 at night to 7 in the morning and we loved it. Of course, when he reached three or four, he wanted to go to bed later and get up earlier. Why is it that they get up so early when they are young, but when they reach the teen years (and the elusive university life years), they can sleep through thunder storms and vacuum cleaners ... until three in the afternoon?
The kid turned out pretty good, if you ask me. Of course, I'm his mom. But, I like the person he has become. He has exceeded any expectations I had when I looked at the baby and wondered what kind of man he would be. He's intelligent, kind and thoughtful, talented, caring, and a very interesting person. Not to mention movie-star attractive...hehehe. Mom's can say that but other people have said it, too.
So, happy birthday, elusive offspring. It's a good thing I now have a dog to keep me busy now.
He started sleeping through the night at three months. It was a bit scarey the morning we awoke at 7:00 and I looked at H and said "Oh, I didn't wake up when you took care of the baby last night." He looked at me "I thought YOU took care of him." And we both rushed to the bassinette to make sure he was allright, and there he was, doing the wake-up stretch. From then on, he slept from 7 at night to 7 in the morning and we loved it. Of course, when he reached three or four, he wanted to go to bed later and get up earlier. Why is it that they get up so early when they are young, but when they reach the teen years (and the elusive university life years), they can sleep through thunder storms and vacuum cleaners ... until three in the afternoon?
The kid turned out pretty good, if you ask me. Of course, I'm his mom. But, I like the person he has become. He has exceeded any expectations I had when I looked at the baby and wondered what kind of man he would be. He's intelligent, kind and thoughtful, talented, caring, and a very interesting person. Not to mention movie-star attractive...hehehe. Mom's can say that but other people have said it, too.
So, happy birthday, elusive offspring. It's a good thing I now have a dog to keep me busy now.
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