News of the Weird

1. It SNOWED!

A few inches even.

And then there was ice.

Then our infrastructure completely collapsed and everyone went sledding.

Well, the collapse of the infrastructure was a bit of an exaggeration... BUT I did try to go see a matinee movie on Saturday and the damn place was closed. CLOSED! Madness.

So we went to a little restaurant nearby on the off chance that it might be open- and lo and behold it was. Now I ask you. A tiny, locally-owned restaurant has enough supplies and employees who can get to work and bring out bread, make gumbo and pour large glasses of wine, but a ginormous movie theater - coughRegalCinemasHollywood27cough - can't scrounge up one person to turn on a projector and pour a Diet Coke? I mean, we even had our own cookies to smuggle in so we wouldn't have bothered them for snacks. Mercy.

Needless to say, after my wine and gumbo detour at 1:00 in the afternoon, I went home and was completely useless for the rest of the day. I did play with the dogs out in the snow. Elsie will root around in the snow. Then roll in the snow. Then run at top speed, stop short and shower Oliver in giant spray of snow. Oliver, however, will prance in the snow because his paws are cold. Then he will fling himself into the air and yelp when Elsie sprays him with snow. Then he will come and try to sit on my feet until I let him go back inside. Good times.

2. Blanche DuBois in Footie Pajamas

My niece started talking a lot more around Thanksgiving / Christmas. Cute little toddler-talk:

peeze (please)

again

bankit (blanket)

night-night

In the last couple of weeks though she's started stringing together more words but with a much more exaggerated Southern accent. Now, everyone in my family would sound like we have accents to anyone living anywhere else in the world, but compared to other Southerners, our accents are extremely mild. Somehow though (we think it must be one of her classmates or teachers) she's picked up this crazy drawl. It's like she's in some sort of Montessori preschool production of Streetcar:

Thee-uhs Du-ugh. My-y dawg. (This is Doug. My dog.)

Hay-elp (help)

Paynk (pink)

Puh-lay bawl? (Play ball?)

I babysat the other night and couldn't stop laughing. Totally hilarious.

3. Potato Bandit

Elsie is a bit of a thief. It's likely the herding dog in her. She mostly likes to steal socks or dish towels and usually ferrets them out through the dog door and then drops them into one of the holes in the yard. You know when she's stolen something because she tries not to be obvious and run through the house - but she's way too excited to be nonchalant and walk normally - so she does this quick little walk with tiny steps and rapid clicking of her toenails on the hardwood floors. Guests are often amazed when I have my back to her as she comes trotting through the living room, sock-in-mouth, and I loudly say "Elsie. Drop it." without ever turning around.

On Sunday I got up and made roasted red potatoes for a brunch later that morning. I came back from brunch and was talking to my mother on the phone when I heard an odd crunching noise coming from the bedroom. I went to check and there was Elsie, sprawled out on the floor with a raw red potato. She grasped it in her paws and nibbled it with her front teeth, then would ponder it briefly, turn it with her paws and continue nibbling. She finally noticed me staring at her, picked the potato up in her mouth and quickly trotted it outside, dropped it in a secure location and then came back in. I decided it wasn't worth putting on shoes and a coat to go out in the cold and chase down a half-eaten raw potato. I also reasoned that it couldn't have tasted all that great and therefore she wouldn't do it again.

Later that night I heard the same crunching noise and damn if she didn't have another whole potato. I went to the kitchen to see if she'd pulled the bag off the kitchen island and onto the floor, but the whole bag was gone. I turned on the outside light in the back and looked out into the snow-covered yard for signs of a mesh bag of red potatoes, but I didn't see anything. Not knowing how good it was for a 35-pound dog to eat at least part of two raw potatoes, I decided to take that one from her. She looked at me strangely, got up, trotted out the door and came back 30 seconds later with another brand new potato. Apparently there's a stash. And it's likely hidden in a hole under several socks and a dish towel. I took that one from her too and I'm going to check today and see if it's okay for her to eat raw potatoes. If so, I'll be tossing part of one into her bowl every now and then since she seems to enjoy it and it keeps her occupied for several minutes. Every time I think that dog can't get any more bizarre, she seems to find a way.

The Loneliest Number

Imagine my surprise when I turned on my computer this morning to discover that today is Lost Sock Memorial Day.

Totally makes me feel better about the fact that I have on two different brown trouser socks today.

Originally I blamed it on it being Monday and me being lazy and a poor housekeeper.

Turns out I'm just doing my part to celebrate one of our lesser-known holidays.

My guess is that the majority of my lost socks are probably the result of being herded into and then buried in the back yard by the Evil Genius.

Perhaps that is what has happened to all lost socks.

If so, I plan to market her as the "Great Pumpkin" of Lost Sock Memorial Day and use the money to pay for a dog psychologist.

And of course, more socks.

Happy Monday!



Credit to The Pigeon Club of NYC for the image. Don't know what the heck lost socks have to do with Pigeon appreciation, but it is a cute picture. Unless... maybe there are sock-stealing pigeons in New York? Elsie may have competition...

Not Just Any 'Ole Friday

Yesterday was Responsible Dog Owner Day according to my Google iPage (and you know how much I love to consult it for All Things Useful and Important).

Tomorrow is the Tennessee-Florida game.

So (in case you were wondering) that makes today Somewhat Irresponsible Dog Owner / Dear God You Know How Much The World Despises Those Web-Footed Swamp-Sucking Cretins So Could You PleasePleasePlease Find It Within Your Power To Make My Boys In Orange Play Well Enough To Win Or At Least Well Enough Not To Suck As Much As They Did Last Week Day.

And to celebrate this auspicious occasion. I give you (once again) dogs in festive orange outfits:



Elsie and Oliver ask that you send help and/or let them know when it's basketball season.

Go Vols!

What I Learned This Summer - Part One. Or....

The Official Moment Wherein:

• My boss goes on vacation
• I can see the light at the end of the home renovation tunnel
• It's only 7 more days until the start of college football
• I recently went to see Julie and Julia so I'm reminded that I should be posting something on my blog so that Nora Ephron will one day find me interesting enough to turn into a movie...

No? Ok, moving on...

So, I've been negligent. But with good reason. Kinda. I've spent most of the summer thinking about what I'd like to be when I grow up, should that moment ever happen. And, when I haven't been doing that, I've been painting and wandering through Lowe Depot and obsessively reading about college football. It's been, like, the least girlie summer in history. But I have learned a lot. So, if anyone out there still remembers me, I give you Part One of the Top Five Lessons from the Summer of 2009:


1. I Suck at Balance:


Mostly I suck at balancing the different areas of my life. I'm always letting one of them consume my time and energy and in doing so let the others sit over in the corner and collect dust. And dog hair. Lots and lots of dog hair. I've always known that I do this, but never before this summer have I realized so clearly how dysfunctional I am about it.

The aforementioned home renovation tunnel prevents me from seeking paid help for my condition so until Dr. Phil starts penning an advice column in This Old House magazine, I'm kind of on my own to figure out how to fix it.

I also physically suck at balance. Startled out of bed a couple of weeks ago - by the producers of the dog hair that's collecting on the areas of my life I can't keep balanced - I stumbled into the living room to assess the identity of the person that must've been trying to break into the house and murder us all to warrant all the frantic damn barking. Turned out it was only a stray dog running loose on our street and in the process of my stumbling I clumsily ran one of my toes directly into the dog gate, breaking it slightly.

Points for irony: knowing that it wasn't an important enough toe (second-to-last on the left foot - a.k.a. the Little Piggy Who Had None) or a severe enough break to warrant a visit to the doctor, I just taped it. But I didn't have any medical tape handy for myself, so I swiped some from the other first aid kit in the house. The dog first aid kit. If one of them sprains a paw running through the house because I've woken them up at 2am over something stupid, then maybe I'll feel badly about it.

More points for irony AND bonus humiliation points: the next day I actually had a doctor's appointment. HOWEVER, let's just say that feet were not her area of specialty but that she did have an opportunity get a good look at my feet and asked what I had done. I told her and she said not to bother seeing a doctor whose area of specialty included feet because "unless you broke it off altogether, all they're going to do is tape it." She offered to re-tape the toe for me but said it looked like I had done a good job. I neglected to mention it was thanks to the dogs' first aid kit.


So, there you go, one lesson down and four to go. Hope you've had a good summer too.

My Valentine

A couple of years ago I went on a casual search for a possible second dog. I wanted a young - but not a puppy - male dog that would be a little larger than Elsie and not as crafty. My wish was granted. He was listed on Petfinder as a year-old St. Bernard / Border Collie mix, which is technically what Elsie is, so I wanted to see what he looked like. Just like Elsie. And he was adorably named Oliver. It all just fit too well.

It turns out that he's actually some sort of hound with a beautiful collie coat (ergo his nickname - The Pimped-Out Hound), but the rest is exactly what I asked for. He has grown to be several pounds larger than Elsie and to say that he is not as crafty is, well, a bit of an understatement. His other nicknames are Bubbles (after the character on Absolutely Fabulous) or Five Second Delay. Here he is on vacation in the mountains lying with his head off the dog bed.

But he is very pretty.

He doesn't so much lap water from the bowl like most dogs, but instead plunges his whole snout in and chomps at the water often resulting terrible sputtering after he's inhaled half the bowl. He is afraid of the stopwatch on 60 Minutes and has what I refer to as "boundary issues." For example:

If you allow him to sleep at the FOOT of the bed, you are guaranteed to wake up at some point to this on the next pillow:

"Oh. Hello there. Were you trying to sleep?"

If you allow him on the END of the couch, you are guaranteed this:

"Oh. Hello there. Were you trying to read? Watch television? Not inhale dog breath?"


If you try to get him to move over to said end of couch, you get this:

"What did you say? For me to lay my head on your shoulder and drool? No? Why not?"

Have I mentioned that he's pretty?

But while Elsie's first reaction to a new toy is to try to dismantle it and then stash the evidence in a hole in the yard, Oliver's is one of complete amazement and joy:



And while Elsie's mantra is likely "I'm surrounded by morons." Or, "Do I have to do everything around here?" Oliver's is most certainly and simply "I love, love." He would spend his day asleep in your lap - all 45 pounds of him - rather than eat. He will try to kiss you square in the mouth if you're not quick enough to block him. Here he is on the same vacation in the mountains enjoying the lap and love of my friend Amanda.


And that is why even though we only know he was born in February, I'm pretty sure his actual birthday is Valentine's Day.

So Oliver, while my cynical self has always considered this holiday to be insipid at best, for you, I make an exception. Happy Birthday.

From the Archives

I've started a new post, but so far it sucks and I've yet to come up with anything else.

But then my iGoogle page says today is National Dress Your Pet Day. Don't know whose brilliant idea that was, but I think it's safe to say it was not the creation of my favorite on-line canine.

Generally speaking, I'm not a big fan of the idea myself - but you know - sometimes it's really necessary:

Judging by the looks on their faces, I think it's safe to say you won't be getting a "Happy Dress Your Pet Day" card from Elsie or Oliver either.

You Say It's Your Birthday

Well, actually she can't. But she would if she could. She would be sure to let us all know.

This week-ish was my dog Elsie's birthday. She's a rescue dog so we don't quite know what day she was born, but it was sometime the during the first two weeks of November 2002.

I adopted Elsie and my other dog, Oliver, through Petfinder.com. For me to go to a dog adoption fair or the humane society would result in me in a giant pile of weeping and/or the Jetta Who-Will-Not-Be-Named full of dogs to take home. Petfinder is a godsend.

Elsie and her two siblings were listed as St. Bernard mix puppies named Winkin', Blinkin' and Nod (blecccch). I was looking for a large, laid-back, easy-going dog. And they were so cute you just wanted to die. Am I right?

So even though she looked more like she was part werewolf or badger than St. Bernard it was still a nobrainer. She came home with me right before Christmas, was named Elsinore (for the castle in Hamlet) and immediate made herself at home:

She was pictured there next to the last stuffed animal ever to be seen in tact in her presence - including a Winnie-the-Pooh ca. Sears 1971 that I'd had since birth. Yeah. It's a really good thing she's cute.

Sleeping is also something Elsie doesn't do a lot of so I often feel the need to document it when it happens. She's also not particularly "laid back" or "easy going" as I had hoped when I found her. Whatever trace of St. Bernard blood can be seen in her coloring, coat and her stocky proportions, but it turns out that her brain is aaaaallllll Border Collie.

Most of her time is now spent - since, as you might imagine, there's a bit of a shortage of sheep in East Nashville - trying to herd her toys, my socks, or my dishtowels out through the dog door in the laundry room and into the back yard.

She's completely insane and barks like you're trying to decapitate her at the slightest imbalance in her universe. If you're hanging out at my house and decide to get up to get something from the kitchen and don't wait to go all together as a group - you should be prepared to be herded promptly back to your seat.

She's hilarious and has the most expressive face of any animal - or most people, for that matter - that I've ever seen. I joke that she is a perpetual teenager as I swear she rolls her eyes at me.

She's very chatty and spends the first few minutes when I get home rambling on in Chewbacca-y noises about, I'm assuming, all that has gone on during the day. If in English, I assume it would be something like "Oliver sucks! People walked through the alley at 10:27am without my permission! I found a new sock! I put it in my favorite hole in the yard at 11:43am! I tackled Oliver and wrestled for 2.3 mintues! I hate squirrels! I took a nap for 4.7 minutes! I rolled around in dead leaves! The mailman came back! Again! I really hate the mailman! I'm hungry! I want peanut butter and string cheese for dinner!"

She's smart as a whip. Most recently she recently she figured out how to open a shut - and locked - dog door. She used to have to ride in the car in one of those dog car harness things. Until she figured out how to unlatch the seat belts. She also once reasoned how to get a toy ball of the top shelf of a 7ft tall bookcase. I could go on and on...

She's a good example for me with her good and not-so-good qualities. When I am in too much of a hurry to get something done. Too sure that I'm right. Too eager to tell someone else what to do. Or too absent-minded and not watching for wolves.

She's extremely dedicated. Her job starts promptly at 6:00 am. I have yet to figure out what that job is, but I know it starts at 6:00 am. It also does not observe daylight savings time.

She's also very dedicated to me. As I am to her. In dog years this birthday makes her older than me. Something I'm sure she has already figured out and takes great joy in because she thinks it makes her even more in charge.

So Elsie, for your sixth year I promise to do a better job of taking you for walks and keeping your busy mind occupied. I promise to pay closer attention when you're airing your grievances and telling me all that Oliver has done to offend you. I promise to take more time and be more patient. And I promise to do a better job watching for wolves.

Happy Birthday

Summer Lovin' Week 4

"On Holiday"

Just as a little preamble - I do love the way the British say things so much better - what mouthy Yank came up with the word "vacation" anyway? Bah! Send it to the dust bin!

Anyway... Sadly, I was not the one "on holiday" this weekend. But the Tennessee sales tax was.

And before you put your hand on your hip, wag your finger in the air, and say "oh don't you go participating in the 'sales tax holiday' after you chastised Hilary and PawPaw for wanting to have a 'gas tax holiday'!" let me say that it is SO. NOT. THE. SAME. THING. I won't go into too much of a rant since I'm supposed to be using my time for these posts to put happy thoughts into the universe and onto the interwebs. BUT I will just say that a nine-point-freakin'-seven-five-percent-sales-tax on clothes and a slightly less obscene tax ON FOOD is regressive and an abomination. However, a tax on a non-renewable fuel source that is also a major pollutant should be taxed even more than it is now for those reason and whole variety of others. Granted, that tax money should be going toward public transportation and to mitigate the pollution created by gasoline-burning engines instead of going toward - oh I don't know - BUILDING MORE ROADS. But enough...

The Tennessee Tax Free Weekend is a fairly new thing. I had been going with my mom to Atlanta to visit friends and family for the weekends of the Georgia sales tax holiday. And yes, saving sales tax really does not warrant a trip to Atlanta BUT there are always lots of additional sales and such on those weekends AND Atlanta has stores we don't have. The Container Store. Crate and Barrel. A pretty good outlet mall. Nordstroms. Ikea. The Container Store. AND if you already have people there you want to visit and its too damn hot to do anything with them outside, what are you going to do? Go to the new aquarium? That would be nice, yes, but let's compare both activities. Both crowded. Both cost money. The aquarium would be educational, yes, but I already know enough about jellyfish to satisfy me for a while. On the other hand. Stackable laundry baskets? Cute boxes - with label holders on the ends - that would contain my VHS collection of Northern Exposure episodes? A bookcase with a name I can't pronounce that I could assemble myself? Tell me more!

I take it all very seriously. Make a list of things I need. A list of things I want. A pre-determined amount of money and an estimate of what can be spent on the "need" versus the "want" lists. I don't buy shirts I only sort-of like just because it's a really good bargain, but I leave room for the serendipitous lamp or bowl or little tan Kenneth Cole mules (that I'm still wearing four years later and get compliments on every time I do - btw). It's like a hunting trip - lots of preparation and game plans but with the thrill of the unexpected. Only no cammo or firearms or bloodshed. Well, usually no bloodshed. There was the time my step-father decided at the last minute to go with us and then asked if we could spend the afternoon at a used bookstore...

So, finally Tennessee legislators got a clue and started a Tax Free Weekend for us. Not quite as exciting. But good. No outlet mall or Nordstroms, but Macy's proved pleasant and profitable. No Ikea, or Crate and Barrel, or Container Store, but a good time can always be had at Target. And with my ongoing lack of funds and a lack of living room ceiling, anything more would not have been feasible. We did well though. Here's my haul. (Hey, get me - posting pictures of my stuff like the preppy bloggers do. Someone stop me before I get something monogrammed... )

Jones New York classic black dress pants that will from this point forward be worn at least once a week. Not an enormous bargain but I've finally come to the conclusion that I have to spend good money on pants. Clinton and Stacy would be so proud.

Nine West black shirt. You can't really tell, but it has cute little pleats. And I normally hate the way I look in buttoned down shirts so this was quite the find on multiple levels.

Liz Claiborne shirt, but in green. In the picture this color is cute, but in person it was not. So I got it in a much-cuter, grass green, but no picture of it exists in cyberspace for some reason. I promptly wore it the next day to work with dark wash jeans and cute, black, rounded toe flats.

(If I had added "black patent leather headband" or "kate spade hobo bag" to that sentence you would have had permission to come and smack me around with something that stinks of patchouli.)

Target was equally exciting but less photogenic so I won't post any pictures of the hairbrush, thank you notes (God help me, they were pink), or string cheese. But the dogs did get their annual back-to-school collars.

Oliver's

Elsie's

(And hell if I didn't notice until now how preppy they are too. What is wrong with me! Don't worry though, pigs will fly before I put my dogs in sweaters or rhinestone collars. Well, as a joke / photo op, but not seriously. Elsie would smother me in my sleep. Oliver on the other hand would probably enjoy a little something sparkly...)

So there you go... another summer adventure has come and gone. We plotted, we scoped, we stalked, we pounced and we left triumphant. And nothing had to be strapped grotesquely to the hood of the car. Or monogrammed.

Summer Lovin' Week 2

The Dog Days

It got really hot this weekend. Like 90-degrees by 10 in the morning hot. So hot I decided that it was worth it to brave my cute-but-spidery detached garage to drag out the kiddie pool as well as waste a bit of water filling it up for the dogs. Nothing makes you forget that your back is dripping sweat into your underwear faster than watching your two endearing, but neurotic, dogs slowly recall that they love water and that they will in fact not get a bath in the purple tub so they can go ahead and stop barking at it.

They couldn't figure out how to both get in at the same time so Elsie would jump in, splash about, and then jump out and take off running so fast with excitement that her back end would try to go faster than her front end and almost flip herself over. She would then circle the pool as Oliver would leap awkwardly - and with much gusto - into the middle and run in circles, making a whirlpool full of all sorts of waves and splashes. That he would then try to bite. He would then leap out of the pool - with equal awkward gusto - snorting and gasping as he tried to get the water out of his nose, leaving it free for Elsie to get back in. This went on and on for about an hour until they and the water were disgustingly muddy and I could sense my neighbors thinking that I had better not leave that disgusting mud pit in the middle of the yard and infest us all with West Nile.

Before the pool party came to end Elsie got to where she would lie down in the water and rest her head on the edge (pictured above). Oliver could never quite get the hang of not biting the water and sucking it up his nose, but he still managed to enjoy himself. Here are the rest of the photos from our canine adventure.

The spinning hound.

Oliver circling inside the pool. Elsie circling outside the pool.
You can see that one of his ears has flipped backwards in all the fervor.

Elsie telling (biting) Oliver to wait his turn.

Hope your weekend was as amusing - or at least not as hot!

Round One. Day One. Who's in Your Bracket?

Like there aren't enough March Madness blog posts being sent out into the universe today...

But how many involve two heathen dogs?

My attempts at an office pool haven't gone over all that well (C? M? Are you paying attention? I'm talking about you.) So instead I've resorted to my housemates. It's a struggle finding ways to keep them entertained in the evenings anyway, so last night we played a little game of "Pick Which Teams You Think Will Win" aka "Pick Which Hand the Doggie Crack String Cheese is in."

And so I bring you:

Gert's NCAA Basketball Mostly Canine Tournament Pool!


Elsie:
Elsie's strategy was to be fast, decisive and straight to the point in selecting her teams / pieces of string cheese. In (what could be) her words: "I like UCLA's speed and UNC's quick-thinking but you have to like a team whose mascot is the devil so I'm going with Duke NOW SERIOUSLY I'VE GOT THINGS TO DO SO JUST GIMME ALL THE CHEESE AND NO ONE GETS HURT."



Oliver:
His plan of action was to ponder the options carefully and try to minimize distractions. His thoughts on this year's tournament: "I like birds so I think I'll pick Kansas. HEY IS THAT SOMETHING SPARKLY UNDER THE CHAIR!?! I would like to pick Memphis, but I'm afraid of cats. Maybe Stanford. They have a tree. Trees are nice. HEY ELSIE ATE MY STRING CHEESE!" (When all was said and done, Oliver actually picked Belmont. And then went to take a nap.)


Gertrude:
Her method involved studying the predictions of professionals from ESPN.com and CBS Sportsline.com and analysing team records. But, despite a sudden craving for a cheese sandwich, she ultimately just went with her gut instincts. "Georgia's really on a hot streak right now and I think Western Kentucky could surprise some people.... and oh yeah... TENNESSEE'S GOING TO WIN IT ALL! GO VOLS! GO VOLS! GO VOLS! "

It will be interesting to see what happens.

Loser buys more string cheese.

Week in Review - a Postscript

Saturday - My Karma has a Pretty Quick Turnaround
A gorgeous day - chilly and windy but sunny - and I spent a good chunk of it outside walking one of my dogs (trying to walk them both at the same time - while comical to watch - is not a lot of fun for me). Now I am sick with a cold. Further proving my theory that exercise is bad for you.

Sunday - Brief Rally in the Name of "Literature"
Not even a Sudafed stupor could keep me from Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy (Part 1). But apparently the much-referenced Mr. Darcy wet shirt scene from Bridget Jones, the Edge of Reason (the book, NOT the movie) is not until next week.

Badgers? We Don't Need no Stinkin' Badgers!

Unless they taste like chicken!*

GO VOLS!!

BEAT WISCONSIN!!

*Or treats, or socks, or paper from the recycling bin.

Also, you'll notice that they are not posed together for the photo because whichever one happened to have the tshirt on tried to choke and/or pull the other one around the room by the scarf.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! and once again GO VOLS!

Happy All Saints Day

"Look, don't you think we're saintly?
No? Really?
Surely you must be mistaken."

Last night was a typical Halloween. A few trick-or-treaters, lots of dog barking and too much left-over Halloween candy. My jack-o-lanterns ended up being fairly cute. (A happy-faced round orange pumpkin stacked on top of a sad-faced white pumpkin). If I had a functioning camera at the moment, I would have taken a picture of them. Early on in the evening I had to put the dogs outside so that they could join the chorus of other barking dogs on my block / annoy my neighbors instead of just me.

When I finally let them in they were all riled up, what with having to run laps around the back yard to protect our land from various very scary elementary school students. So riled up in fact that they managed to wage a fairly impressive campaign of shock and awe in only about 15 minutes before they collapsed in exhaustion on the floor. It included, but was not limited to,

• knocking over my Diet Coke


• stealing and shredding the wet paper towels I used to clean up the Diet Coke


• leaping onto the ottoman in the getaway process of stealing the wet paper towels


• knocking a stack of magazines off the ottoman


• stealing and shredding a couple of the subscription reply cards that fell out of the stack of magazines


• growling and snapping at each other over who got the better subscription reply card / larger portion of wet paper towels


• jumping onto the couch with Diet Coke Paws


• yanking the laptop power cord out of the wall


• pulling the compost pail off the counter


• digging out a chunk of pumpkin from the compost pail


• racing out the dog door with treasured chunk of pumpkin so that I wouldn't take it away from them


• eating part of the chunk of pumpkin


• dropping the pumpkin left-overs in the hole in the yard for safe keeping


• coming back inside only to yak chewed-up pumpkin on the kitchen floor (and perhaps rethink the logic of the last four activities).
  

Two seconds later they were asleep in the living room and every time I got up to do something or laugh aloud at something on the TV, they'd open an eye or stick up an ear like "Hey, pipe down! We're sleepin' here!"

Today though is All Saints Day which makes Sunday, well, All Saints Sunday. It’s one of my very favorite days of the year. Why? Well, I just happened to have a list:

1. I dig Holy Days with such blatant Pagan origins/aspects.


2. I really like the concept of saints and celebrating people who have died.


3. It has the pomp and circumstance of a Christmas or Easter service without having to fight anyone for a parking space at the mall or cooking any large animals.
   
4. I get to sing one of my favorite hymns (you have to love a hymn that talks about having tea). And, in looking for the “correct” version of the lyrics online (surprisingly challenging) I came across an Episcopal blog with the lyrics and other cool posts that I’m going to have to revisit.


5. Numbers 1 & 2 really make the fundamentalists twitch so really, it’s a win-win-win situation.

So next my plan was to go on and on about something terribly profound, I'm sure, but there's a basket of leftover Halloween candy calling my name...

Cast of Characters

I don't know that much more needs to be said about me - at least for the time being - than what's in the "About Me" section already. And Lord knows I don't feel compelled to post a picture of myself... so let's move on, shall we...

I share my home - a very small 1930's cottage - with two lunatic canines. And while I'm not the kind of dog owner that refers to herself as their "mommy," I'm sure I talk about my dogs, Elsie and Oliver, as though they're my children way more than my friends with actual children appreciate.

But I will have to say that living with my two dogs - as much as I do love them - IS a lot like living with two teenagers. Elsie spends a good bit of her day telling me all that I've done incorrectly, ratting out Oliver, bossing Oliver around, rolling her eyes (I swear she does this) and looking at you like you're stupid. Oliver, on the other hand, is a bit thick-headed, smells bad, just wants to sleep on the couch, is always hungry, makes a big mess when he eats and pretends he can't hear me when I call his name. Their differences in personality make for some good entertainment and I guess I'm just lucky they can't drive - although I'm convinced Elsie would try if given enough time in the car unsupervised. Here's a little more about them:

Name: Elsinore (Elsie)
Breed: Part Border Collie
Nicknames: Elsifur, Devil Dog, Frog Dog, Evil Genius, Town Crier, Wooly Dog
Hobbies: Herding (kids, cats, socks, whatever); Tricking Oliver out of his toy, treat, bed, chair, etc.
Life Goal: World Domination

Name: Oliver
Breed: Some sort of hound but with a long silky coat and big collar of white fur (and so the first of his nicknames).
Nicknames: Pimped-Out Hound, Pony Boy, Bubbles, Archie Bunker, Five-Second-Delay, Squirrel Whisperer
Hobbies: Napping in the old green armchair; Trying to get stuff back from Elsie
Life Goal: Overcome Fear of the Stopwatch on "60 Minutes"