A Dog Named Dudley

Gentle Readers, meet Dudley! This is my new guy, who arrived at dinnertime on 25 May, courtesy of our local golden retriever rescue group. He's absolutely fantastic-he knows several commands, walks very well on leash, is very mild mannered, and best of all, ignores the cats. What a treat it will be to train a dog that wants to repeat something over and over, and over, and over...

Mr. Big has only had to reprimand him a few times, on Thursday, and then again late Friday, when we were sitting on the patio, enjoying a warm, pitch black, summer evening. Cuddly Dudley (to be known as CD) has tried twice to initiate play, and Mr. Big is not quite sure what to make of that, but since he loved to wrestle with his Pupgirl, and has been streaking across the yard on his own looking for someone to wrestle with, I think it's just a matter of time. Mr. Big doesn't have good dog-reading skills, so he's probably a little unsure of what CD is saying.

And cuddly he is. The first night he jumped into bed with me. The third night he started off bedtime laying next to me, head on my chest, with those big, brown, puppy eyes just gazing at me. The fluffsters were invited to sleep with me, but never wanted to. Too hot! Pupgirl would jump on the bed about 5 a.m. and wait for me to get up, but that was the closest we got to sleeping together. May I add she was not averse to sleeping on my bed when I wasn't in her way by being in it already.

Meet Kevin!

I volunteered with the Delta Society evaluations today. All day--17 teams. It's super fun and exhausting. Usually I'm just the flapper and arguer, occasionally the bumper. But today I got to do 5 hands-on exams! I'm so excited! I loved it even more.

But meet the latest Delta Society Pet Partner: Kevin Bacon. You would not believe how adorable this miniature pot-bellied pig was. He has his own Facebook page, so if you want to learn more about, meet him there, where he is listed as Kevin Pig. He's fabulous, and will be a great therapy pig.

The Return of the Rutabaga

For many years now, as I have dawdled in the produce section of the grocer's, I have pondered why manufacturer's have decided to offer us wimpy-wristed chefs pre-cut butternut squash (Good idea, it's one hard squash to cut), pre-cut onions (Okay, they make some people cry and the weepers don't know the secret, which is to keep them cold), and pre-cut apples (Seriously? How hard it sit to bit into an apple?). But no one offered me a pre-cut rutabaga, other wise known as the vegetable you chop with a hatchet.

I've used a rutabaga exactly once since I moved to Old Town, because even at my strongest in my 20s, I barely could cut it. MoM used to make us rutabagas when I was young, and I remember liking it, and I wanted to add a new veg or two into the diet. Where oh where was my pre-cut rutabaga?  

Then, Sunday, while once again dawdling in the produce section, it hit me, like a granny purse upside the head: microwave it first briefly to soften it, then chop it, dice it, julienne it, do whatever you want because the microwave should make it soft. Hastily, I snatched an innocent-looking rutabaga and hustled to the check-out line, where the clerk didn't recognize it at all. Hmm, I wonder how long that rutabaga was sitting there? Good thing it's a root veg.

Yes, Gentle Readers, the microwave trick works! Rutabaga zapped, chopped, boiled, mashed, and consumed with gusto. The mashed rutabaga was shy and wouldn't cooperate with the camera, so you will have to trust me that it was delicious in all its sunset orange glory.

I am love with the rutabaga.

Yarn + Tea = Bliss

Las Tres Yarnistas, a.k.a., M, T, and me, all piled into the E for a road trip to one of my favorite not-so-local yarn stores in the suburbs of the Metropolis, the Fiber Factory, yesterday. I had a gift certificate, the only thing that made the day even more fun. Free yarn! Except that, of course, I couldn't buy just what my gift certificate could afford, I had to buy more (but just one more skein more, really). I fell in love with the most wonderful yarn, Mirasol Nuna in aquamarine, which I knew would be perfect for a crocheted shawl I've had my eye on for several months. I immediately started working with it when I got home, and oh my word, is it delightful! It's delicious! It's de-lovely!

But I realized that I may have been mistaken in thinking the pattern would work well with just one color. I think it will need the contrasting colors the sample had. What? Stop crocheting in mid-shawl? Perish the thought! Onto the Interweb went I, only to confront horror.  Apparently many of my usual online fiber suppliers do not carry Mirasol, and those that do are Out Of It.  What?!?!?

The Fiber Factory is closed today and tomorrow, so I will have to wait on pins and needles until Tuesday to call up there to see if they have Nuna in seashell and flax, or maybe cool blue as a back up contrasting color option. Please, please, please, keep your fingers and hooks crossed that they do.

What made the day even more fun is that right around the corner is a fantastic little cafe and coffee shop, The Bungalow,  where we had lunch. They serve loose leaf tea--good loose leaf tea! They serve good food--they made the Waldorf Chicken Salad from scratch after I ordered it! They have a lovely atmosphere, located in a 1906 remodeled bungalow, where they feed and caffeinate people and offer yoga classes. The hippie in me was so envious we don't have such a quaint place here. Leash and Latte Nights--even Mr. Big could enjoy a place like that. I recommend it highly, and will return the next time I can afford to drive a couple of hundred miles just for yarn.

See, isn't it lovely?

More Roses

Mr. Big and I went back to the park on Easter Sunday so I could take more photos. I love the park on major holidays like this. Families start setting up their spot to picnic before 7 a.m., when I arrived. Blankets, chairs, chaise longues, huge coolers full of food, tables, grills, tents--this year, everybody had a tent. They eat and play and talk and laugh--a wonderful way to celebrate the holiday. One family already had staked out what I'd consider the prime spot: between the rose garden and duck pond.

Many of my rose photos did not come out well. My camera is just a small point and shoot, and I have new contact lenses with a stronger bifocal, and my eyes have not adjusted to them yet. Between these two, fuzziness rules the days right now. I'm not sure why blogger insists on turning the horizontal photos during the upload process, but I've loaded, deleted and reloaded photos so many times, I'm giving up. Turn your head sideways to view some photos.

In Full Bloom

My local rose garden, happily just one and half miles from my house, so I enjoy it frequently. These photos are from 7 a.m. this morning, with the garden half lit by sunlight and half still in shade. There were already two people there taking photographs--I'm sure theirs came out much better with their fancy camera. By the time I left, a half dozen more people were enjoying the fragrant, early morning coolness and stupendous beauty. I have four rosebushes in my yard, but I'd love to have even more.

More Evidence the Universe is Rocking, and, Mr. Big Meets One of His Own

Still don't believe that my winning the NCAA pool (a whopping $60! And no, I didn't spend it all in one place; I bought me a hula hoop--see below--and lunch.) is an indication that universal vortices are spinning out of control, that black holes may imminently suck up the Milky Way, that Big Changes May Be Coming?

I was able to trim both front paws--both!!--of Stripey Girl, at one time, the other night. At one time! Both! At one time! Usually I can only manage 1 or 2 toes, at most, before she hisses, spits, and flees.

If that is not a sign, I don't know what is.

What craziness I'll do for my dog:

Sunday, I had just pulled out of the parking lot at the park when I spied a small SUV driving past, with a beautiful, spakling white Samoyed hanging out the front passenger window, going in the opposite direction. "Hold on!" I yelled, and turned Big Red around to follow it, T and dogs grabbing the sides of the car to hold on as I hurtled after the SUV. I pulled in behind that car, jumped out, and said "Excuse me? I saw your Sammy, and had to show you what's in the back of my car..." She turned, her beautiful Samoyed turned, and I opened the back window. The two Sammies took one look at each other and went leaping for each other. Mr. Big stood on the back gate, tail wagging at super canine speed. Her dog dragged her across the driving lanes to my car and tried to leap into the back (but couldn't). The two of them thrust their heads into each others' fur, sniffing like mad, tails almost wagging completely off. No barking, no growling, not a sound, just huge smiles, dancing eyes, and excited tails whirling at 90 mph.

I refuse to believe anyone who tells me that a dog can't recognize its own breed. This was not his normal reaction by my dog to a dog. This is way he always reacts when he meets another Samoyed. So even though they may not look at themselves in the mirror, or evince any evidence that they recognize self in a human way, clearly, my dog knows one of his own kind when he sees him or her. And it makes him happy.

(By the way, it turns out I'd met this Samoyed before on the river walk, two or three times, when I was helping J train for her 3-day cancer walk. We cover such long distances that Mr. Big never walks these with me, as his back left leg can't take that stress. I didn't recognize the human at all, though. Who looks at the human when there's a beautiful dog to look at?)