The Gathering, x|y style

Hey, The Typist here...

It's been several days since we got back, and some folks (read: Andrew) have been bugging me to post about the Generation x|y Gathering that we had last week at Mount Sequoyah. The upshot is, it was great, especially for a first-year effort, and we all want it to happen again next year. Got good constructive feedback on the evaluation forms, too, so I'm sure next time it'll be even better.

As for pics, turns out one of the settings on my camera got bumped to "wrong" in my laptop bag, so I don't have very many good ones. But look! It's a few of us in the Bishop's Cottage, which housed our guest speakers. There's Cub's Uncle B on the mandolin, Tim Keel in the middle of the couch, and Marcia on the right (no, she's not asleep, she's just closing her eyes in amazement at what she's hearing).


And, wait... what's at the bottom of the frame?

Those, my blogfriends, are Doug Pagitt's toes.

I probably wouldn't have mentioned Doug Pagitt's big, long toes except for the story that Benjamin shares here. So, here I am, typing on and on about Doug's toes. Which, by the way, are not any more follically challenged than average toes, just so you know.

More thorough reports are available elsewhere on the blogosphere. But I'm the only one with a pic of Doug Pagitt's toes. So far, anyway.

Our weekend

The Typist is back now, so I can tell you about my weekend.

We didn't really get left... because Aunt Cathy came over!!!

We LOVE Aunt Cathy. She gives us belly rubs and takes us for morning walks and lets us sleep on the thumb-havers' bed with her. The Boy even stayed up on top of the bed this time, instead of going underneath it like usual.

The Alpha and The Typist are back now, and we got to go to Petco (Wonders Untold!) tonight. We got a new ball because we chewed a hole in the old one, and The Boy got a special new thing to go around his neck. It's all pinchy -- I know because they had me try it on, too. But when he has that pinchy thing on, The Boy all of a sudden really wants to go everywhere The Alpha goes. Should make for a different feel to our next walk.

Oh, The Typist wanted to say something about where she went, but it's getting to be her bedtime, so she'll get back to you later.

Proclamation

We, the dogs, would like you to know that we Aren't Getting Left.

We're just sayin'.

--Cub & Angus

Grease bunny

The Typist here again.

I promise, this is a dog blog.

There are no plans to turn it into a car blog.

Just because this is the third post about a car within the past 10 days is no cause for alarm.

After this one, I'm finished with car blogging. Note that I haven't even made a "car blogging" label.



Today,

after my church nerd meeting,

I came home and changed out of my church nerd outfit,

jacked up my car,

and changed my oil.

At last, my apprenticeship is complete; I know how to do it without asking anyone.

I had to take a break because somebody had the filter wrench in his brand new car (why?), but when the brand new car returned I resumed my labors, now with an assistant to hand things to me.



He took pictures instead.



But really, after that he prepped the fuel filter and handed it to me, which was quite helpful.

At some point before kindergarten, I started wanting to be a mechanic when I grew up. It didn't work out that way. But when it's not too hot out, I do enjoy some basic maintenance. (In the summer, I become a real weenie about things.)

So, today I got to play mechanic. And my hair only got caught under the wheels of the floor creeper a couple of times.

After I finished, the dogs got to ride around the block with me to make sure all was well, because dogs LOVE rides, even if they are very short ones.

(See, this is a dog blog.)

Farewell, good and faithful Saturn

This, I think, was its good side.



Especially when you start looking a little harder from other angles.


Yes, that's Bondo showing through on the front. And it's showing through a we're-not-going-to-keep-it-too-much-longer home-done paint job from July 2004.



Which started to flake off quite impressively at some point in 2006.



Yes, those are machine screws, washers, and rubber grommets above the door. Because it's kind of hard to drive when the plastic trim around your door keeps falling down and hitting you. (Or rattling so loud you can't drown it out with the radio.)



No, that's not in "recline" position. That's a broken seat. Actually, it's the second broken driver's seat -- you'll notice if you look closely that it doesn't quite match the rest of the interior. Online junkyards are handy inventions.

Do I need to mention that this car only had one owner its entire 15-year life? And that he drove it without air conditioning for the last six years? And that nobody really knows how many miles are on it, because the odometer broke about 7 years ago? We're guessing a quarter million or so, though.

This car may well still have some birdseed in it from our wedding in 1996.

This car survived a 60 mile-per-hour slide down a rain-soaked Interstate median, backwards, in a torrential downpour, and turned out no worse for the experience (well, a little water got in under the door, but it dried). Had its inhabitants known everything would be okay at the end of that unintentional detour, they would've treated it more like the free roller-coaster ride it was.

This car has gone off-road through a rest area in an ice storm and delivered its passengers safely to the family Christmas gathering.

On Thursday morning, this car went to Local High School's automotive technology program. It was driven away under its own power. We were happy about that. The Alpha received a nice letter stating, "This vehicle will be put to good use training the students." We think it's the best ending this little car could ask for.

Listening to Car Talk on NPR this morning, we heard a theory put forth: you can get an idea of how dedicated and faithful a prospective mate will be over the long haul by looking at how long he will hold onto a car.

I've obviously got no worries there.

Friday Five: Big Event Edition

From Songbird over at RevGals:
Did you know that the major purpose for forming a non-profit, RevGalBlogPals, Inc., was to be able to attract grant support for a large scale RevGalBlogPal meetup? My dream from the beginning has been attracting financial support that would allow as many of our bloggers to be together as possible.
RGBP, Inc. now has a planning committee, and we are in the early stages of planning the RevGalBlogPal Big Event. What, When, Where and Who are all on the table at the moment. In that spirit, I bring you the Big Event Friday Five.

The Typist here, playing alone today, as Cub likely wouldn't be making such a trip:

1. What would the meeting be like? (Continuing Ed? Retreat? Outside Speakers? Interest Groups? Workshops? Hot Stone Massages? Pedicures? Glorified Slumber Party?) Somewhere between retreat and glorified slumber party. Outside speaker sounds interesting, but what outside speaker would "get" RGBP?

2. When in 2008 might you be able to attend? January? Shortly after Easter? Summer? Fall? Some other time? January and Fall are the most likely. (Late May and early June would be impossible for most of the United Methodists...plus there's General Conference in April...I'm just sayin'...)

3. Where would your dream meeting location be? (Urban Hotel? Rural Retreat Center? New England Camp? Southwestern Fantasy Hotel? Far away from civilization? Nearby Outlets or Really Great Thrift Stores?) Always, always looking for an excuse to go to New Mexico. But whatever the location, as long as we have free wi-fi, I'm not picky. UPDATE: It would be great if Southwest flies there, too.

4. Who would make a great keynote speaker? (That's if #1 leads us in that direction.) Hmmm... again, who'd "get" us enough to make it worthwhile? Maybe Real Live Preacher?

5. Did I leave out something you want to suggest? Can't think of anything, but it's early here.

A Confession

Hello... The Typist here, with a confession to make.

I'm not sure which is the proper thing to confess:

a) that I think I got this twinge in my shoulder because I'm aging and not in the best shape ever, or

2) that it may have come from overdoing it in yoga (and yoga, by the way, is NOT a competition, not even with yourself -- no, certainly not), or

iii) that it might also have something to do with the fact that last night, after I got home from yoga, I turned two cartwheels in my living room just to prove to myself that a 31-year-old woman can still do a cartwheel just fine, thankyouverymuch.

Opinions, anyone?

I'm off to choir, and then band, neither of which should mess with my rotator cuff. (Although you never know sometimes.)

Two-for-one

The Alpha met this puppy dog during a water break on his big long bike ride.

He found out that this particular pup is half German Shepherd, half Australian Cattle Dog.

So, if by some bit of weirdness, The Boy and I melded into one dog all together instead of two different dogs apart, there's a good chance we'd look something like this. (Note: we're not going to try to find out. Thanks to the magic of veterinary medicine, it's doubly impossible, and besides -- eww, eww, eww!!!!)

Cute puppy and all, but I'm fine with the way things are.

One more thing: note the bandanna. (I think it might be John Deere.) Even at such a young age, it's obvious the dog has style.

Waiting for the fur to drop

It was about this time last year that we experienced a major coat-blowing by The Boy (file photo at left). Such is the way of his breed.

We were in Home State to watch Amazing Niece graduate from college, staying the weekend with They Who Love Their Granddogs, when we noticed. So we took him out on the back porch and gave him a good all-over rumpling of the fur.

And it did fly in the wind.
And it did land on the porch.
And it was of such volume that we had to sweep it off the porch.
And yea, verily, it kept coming.


This year, we have nobody graduating from college to necessitate a road trip. And we're wondering if we will notice that the coat-blowing has begun. Last night he wallered in the middle of the living room and worked up a nice-sized wad of fur, which he left on the carpet for all to admire. Tonight I went over him with the lint roller (hey, it doesn't seem to bother him -- that attachment they sell for vacuum cleaners would certainly send him running... or peeing... maybe both at the same time).

We're watching. And we hope if we catch it, there will be a good breeze in the backyard for the fur-rumpling hour.

Friday Five: Potato, Po-tah-to Edition

From Reverendmother over at RevGalBlogPals:

There are two types of people in the world, morning people and night owls. Or Red Sox fans and Yankees fans. Or boxers and briefs. Or people who divide the world into two types of people and those who don't. Let your preferences be known here. And if you're feeling verbose, defend your choices!

We're continuing our tandem play tradition today. This one should be interesting...

1. Mac? or PC?
Typist: Because of equipment available to me through college and jobs over the years, I've demonstrated an ability to straddle the fence on this one... and those Mac commercials are really cute... but when it gets down to actually spending my own money, it's a PC all the way.
Cub: Does Mac mean macaroni? Because I like macaroni. Does PC mean PoppyCub? Because I get called that quite a bit. How 'bout if someone said, "Hey, PoppyCub, come here! There's some macaroni on the floor!" I'd like that.

2. Pizza: Chicago style luscious hearty goodness, or New York floppy and flaccid?
Typist: Chicago style. Haven't been there in years, and Real Live Preacher just reported on his trip, so now I'm craving me some Giordano's.
Cub: There are reasons I'm named Cub, and one of them has to do with Chicago. So I should probably say Chicago. But the truth is, any pizza = good, if it gets within my reach at all. (Which almost never happens.)

3. Brownies/fudge containing nuts:
a) Good. I like the variation in texture.
b) An abomination unto the Lord. The nuts take up valuable chocolate space.
[or a response of your choosing]
Typist: I don't use the phrase "abomination unto the Lord" very often (even though it's fun to say!), but this may well be one of the cases. Nothing against nuts, mind you -- they're tasty on their own, and they won't stop me from eating a homemade brownie -- but when I make 'em myself, nuts don't enter the picture.
Cub: Brownies are Not For Poppies. So I sit this one out.

4. Do you hang your toilet paper so that the "tail" hangs flush with the wall, or over the top of the roll like normal people do?
Typist: This is one of the few ways in which I could be classified as "normal."
Cub: I'm pleading "no thumbs" on this one. (Besides, on the rare occasions I have a need for toilet paper, it usually means I haven't done something quite right on my own, so I'm generally not fond of it.)

5. Toothpaste: Do you squeeze the tube wantonly in the middle, or squeeze from the bottom and flatten as you go just like the tube instructs?
Typist: Back in the Days of Metal Tubes, I was diligent about squeezing from the bottom. But now it doesn't so much matter, does it?
Cub: This is another "no thumbs" one. But I just want to say that I don't like having my teef brushed. Even if the toothpaste tastes like beef. The Boy loves having his teef brushed because of that, but I know it's just a trick.

Bonus: Share your favorite either/or.
Typist: The Alpha and I will forever disagree on whether the syncopation in the last line of "Ode to Joy" is really supposed to be there. I got my way for our wedding postlude, but only because our organist was my friend and a fellow Beethoven purist. As a hymn at church, we do it his way because it's more singable. And I reserve the right to not like it.
Cub: Back when I did crate training, I maintained that "crate" meant "go to that corner of the living room." Then the thumb-havers moved the black wire thing I sat in when I went to that corner, and they expected me to go to the new place where it was when they said "crate!" Silliness. But I eventually started doing it just to make them happy.

Our New Car!

We got a new car today! The Alpha brought it home, and he already took us for a RIDE.


Here's The Boy sitting between The Typist's car and our car. He's a little blurry 'cause he's so excited.



And here we are in our car. We decided we don't really like this spot in the back. We'd rather be in the back seat. The Boy got tired of it and jumped out the window, and The Alpha made a big deal about it getting scratched or something. Whatever. It's our car. We don't care if it has a toenail mark or two.

Here's how we know it's really our car:

Can you see it? All that fur clinging to the bumper? That's our fur.

And we don't care what The Alpha thinks. That's our car.

Because Molly asked...

Yesterday when us RevGalPetPals were playing Friday Five with the RevGalBlogPals, my friend Molly came over and asked me what color my bandanna was. (Today we are spelling bandanna with double n's near the end. Tomorrow, who can say?)

So, The Typist took this picture of me with my wardrobe:


Here are the contents of my bandanna drawer. I can't count very high, but I am told there are 16 bandannas, plus one scarf. Maybe two scarves, really, but the Belgian lace one in the middle is shaped like a bandanna. I wear it for special occasions like weddings. (I was a flower-dog once.)

Right now I'm wearing the one that's right next to me in the picture -- it has kissy-prints all over it. The Boy borrowed that plaid one sitting between the stripes and the Stars and Stripes.

A bunch of these bandannas were gifts. (Somebody loves her granddogs! and somebody else loves her dog-niece!)

Some of the older ones have a corner or two chewed off because I was a baby and I didn't know that you aren't supposed to eat your bandanna. Banana, yes. Bandanna, no.

Yes, some of them are wrinkled. The Typist wants you to know that she does many, many things for me, but ironing is not one of them.

The Alpha is out on his adventure today, and he is wearing one more bandanna.

I hope he lets me wear it later.

Friday Five: It's My Party

Over at RevGalBlogPals, because it's Songbird's birthday, she says: I hate to say it, but over the years I've been to too many parties where I, or the birthday child, has felt much like the chorus of Lesley Gore's old tune. I am therefore not the biggest fan of birthday parties. For this Friday, tell us these five things about parties, birthday or otherwise.

Tandem play again from Cub and the Typist:

1) Would you rather be the host or the guest?
Typist: Guest, because I have some friends who can't come to my house because of two four-footed furries who own the place.
Cub: Guest, because it means I get to go for a RIDE!

2) When you are hosting, do you clean everything up the minute the guests go home? Will you accept help with the dishes?
Typist: I do a cursory clean-up, handling the things that I wouldn't want to wake up and face the next morning.
Cub: I lick my bowl clean every day; party days are no different.

3) If you had the wherewithal, and I guess I mean more than money, to throw a great theme party, what would the theme be?
Typist: This one's easy. It would be College Girls' Weekend. I'd fly all three of the Girls in to somewhere nifty, maybe Santa Fe, stay in a posh B&B, and we'd do whatever we pleased the whole time!
Cub: Theme party? How about the standard Everybody Loves Cub theme?

4) What's the worst time you ever had at a party?
Typist: There are any number of extended family gatherings from my childhood that involve teasing by cousins that I'd just as soon forget (and probably have succeeded in forgetting some of them).
Cub: A couple of occasions involving toddler-sized thumb-havers have been less than pleasant. Some of those little rugrats have no idea how to respect a dog. Now that The Boy's around, we curl up on the couch together for our mutual protection any time one comes over.

5) And to end on a brighter note, what was the best?
Typist: New Year's Eve 1999/2000. R & K hosted at their new house, hooked up the disco ball to the ceiling fan, turned up the music, The Alpha and I gave tango lessons to the Eagles' Hell Freezes Over version of Hotel California, and everybody had a blast!
Cub: Any occasion where I get to wear a bandana and greet thumb-havers as they come in the front door to pet me!