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!

Friday Five: What Are You...

A quick-and-simple Friday Five from Reverendmother at RevGalBlogPals. The Typist and I are doing a tandem play again, since y'all seem to like that!

What Are You...

1. Wearing
Typist: It's casual Friday, so my favorite jeans and red t-shirt. Still barefoot 'cause I haven't left the house yet.
Cub: My usual collar with the sun-moon-stars pattern woven into it. (The Boy and I recommend Bison Designs for the stylish hound who wants something a little more special than your average collar. My pattern appears to be discontinued, but The Boy wears Black Thorn.)

2. Pondering
T: Whether I'm ready to submit my answers to the questions asked of those willing to be considered for our General Conference delegation.
C: What's going on in the front yard. I am monitoring the perimeter via the dining room and guest room windows, alternately.

3. Reading
T: The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne (hmm, potential future RevGals book discussion?).
C: RevGalPetPals blogs from Molly, Littlemankitty, Whistle (although he hasn't blogged in a long time, so I've been keeping up with Fish's broken leg at St. Casserole's place), and Tiria.

4. Dreaming
T: Nothing in particular, but I'm reminded of this great story, song, and slideshow from TFIA.
C: Chasing bunnies. Chasing squirrels. Chasing The Boy.

5. Eating
T: Nothing so far this morning, but I am drinking some nifty coffee I got as a thank-you gift for leading a blogging workshop!
C: Had my chow, and one of my peanut-butter-covered pills, and I think the other one's coming soon.

Bicycles: not usually a dog's friend...

...but on May 5 and 6, bicycles will be my Aunt Pinky's friend, so I guess that will have to do.

See, Aunt Pinky has this nasty thing called MS. (That's why it took her so long to paint my picture, because she wasn't feeling well.) Lots of thumb-havers are trying to get rid of MS, but it takes a lot of work and money. So, to help, The Alpha is riding in the MS 150. That means he's been spending lots of time pedaling on that bike that doesn't go anywhere and also he can't play with his dogs while he's riding it. Dogs need lots of attention, you know.

One cool thing is that The Alpha has a special bandana to wear. Aunt Pinky and Friend Regina, who has MS too, wrote special messages on it for him. Usually I'm the one who wears bandanas, so I hope he will let me borrow it after his ride is over.

If anybody wants to help The Alpha (and Aunt Pinky and Friend Regina, too), here's the spot.

It's a beautiful day...

...but we haven't been allowed to spend much time out in it.

Early this morning The Alpha went outside and sprinkled some stuff in the yard, and he doesn't want us messing around in whatever it is. Well, if he didn't want dogs messing around in his stuff, why did he sprinkle it all over the yard? Which is exactly where dogs like to be? Especially on sunny days?

Such a mystery.
Maybe if I were a bloodhound, I could solve it.
But I'm a German Shedder.
I think I'll just go take a nap in the corner.

Friday Five: Surprised by Joy

Jesus said to them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him, "No."He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. (John 21:5-7)

Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30:5b)

From Songbird over at RevGalBlogPals:
This week I've been watching parents of the young people slain at Virginia Tech trying to make meaning out of the lives of their lost children, and each one seems to begin by focusing on something joyful about that child. It's a gift that most humans have brains wired to respond in that way. For some of us it can be harder to work our way out of dark places, but I believe joy remains the key. It is the spirit of resurrection.
Tell us about five people, places, or things that have brought surprising, healing joy into your life.

It's another tandem play this week from The Typist and The Best Dog Ever:

Typist: Gotta say The Alpha right off the bat! He stuck with me through four years of dating while at separate colleges, and freshman year was definitely no picnic. He still brings joy every day.
Cub: I agree. He's lots of fun and knows how to wrassle like a dog.

T: Music, of course. Some Wednesday nights when I head to church, I'm already completely drained. But when I get home at bedtime after back-to-back rehearsals, I just can't calm down and go to sleep right away because the music lingers within me.
C: The Boy. Yes, it's surprising, because I didn't want him to stay when he first showed up, and he can still sometimes be a nuisance, but he keeps me playful.

T: Both dogs! They are gifts from God. Cub came into my life at an especially rough time, and raising her from a pup was exactly what I needed to do that summer.
C: Aw, thanks... You give me joy, too, because even though you make me go to the vet a whole lot, you do take really good care of me. Sometimes you think I've forgotten the whole being abandoned thing, but I haven't. I know I've got a great thing going here!

T: BlogPals. I know some of them in person, and knew some of them before blogging. But there are also those I've never actually met that have blossomed into very real friendships all the same. Case in point: Zorra has provided great support via email as we've dealt with some of Cub's recent mystery maladies.
C: Hip surgery. It was really, really horrible and I was really, really angry afterwards. But then after a few weeks, I realized I could roll over on my back again without it hurting! It brought me a lot of joy that day, and still does.

T: Our amazing and wonderful niece M, who was recently accepted to her first-choice graduate school. I love that she's become more like a sister to me as we've both grown up (I was nine when she was born - yes, I'm the baby of my family, closer in age to much of the next generation than to my own siblings).
C: People coming over. Jessica came last night, and that was fun! Who's next?

Belated Easter photos

Just two pictures. We haven't been that up on things lately. (Well, except some of the furniture.)

This picture shows what the thumb-havers had for breakfast on Easter. I'm supposed to tell you that no, there wasn't any ham. (I think I'm missing out on a joke or something.)


And this one was supposed to be some kind of artsy shot of us dogs, with the curtains blowing in the wind and everything. But really, we were just wondering why somebody else was out there using our sidewalk.

Friday Five: Dental Edition

Well, at first we weren't going to play, but then I remembered I have a hole where my toof used to be, so The Typist and I are playing together this week. From Cheesehead and Reverendmother at RevGalBlogPals:

1. Are you a regular patron of dentists' offices? Or, do you go
a) faithfully, as long as you have insurance, or
b) every few years or so, whether you need it or not, or
c) dentist? what is this "dentist" thing you speak of?

Typist: a) and I'm due to go this month but haven't made the appointment.
Cub: well, it's rolled in with my vet trips, so I guess I should answer c).

2. Whatever became of your wisdom teeth?

T: Cut out when I was 15, before they could move around and mess with my newly-straightened other teeth. Plus: I got to live off milkshakes for a week. Minus: I couldn't open my mouth as wide as I wanted to when I hollered for the football and basketball teams the following year of high school (this, for a cheerleader, was a stumbling block. Yes, I was a cheerleader. You got a problem with that? There's a "most spirited" trophy from that year somewhere in the attic.).
C: I have no idea what she just said.

3. Favorite thing to eat that's BAAAAAD for your teeth.

T: Probably caramels. Or maybe vanilla taffy from the state fair. (But most certainly NOT Oreos. They look like instant cavity when you're finished chewing them, which creeps me out so much that I don't eat them at all.)
C: Bones. Real bones. And they don't let me have them any more.

4. Ever had oral surgery? Commiserate with me.

T: Nothing beyond the wisdom teeth experience.
C: Oh, that's what it was called when I took a nap at the vet and woke up with a hole where my toof used to be!

5. "I'd rather have a root canal than _________________."

T: Um, go to my high school class reunion, I think.
C: Have my temperature taken. From what I understand, they would let me take another nap at the vet for the root canal. They take my temperature when I'm awake, and in a very impolite way.

Bonus: Does your dentist recommend Trident?

T: Hmm, I've never checked to see.
C: Dogs aren't very good at the whole concept of chewing gum.

I have a big new word!

This evening The Alpha and The Typist have been saying this big new word about me.

Hypothyroidism.

From what I can tell, I think it means I'll be taking another pill.

But they seem pretty happy about it. They don't seem to be all worried anymore. And they're putting "no" in front of other words like ultrasound and biopsy, which also appears to be good.

And when I get pills, I also get peanut butter, so that works out pretty well.

Why I'm a United Methodist

Well, Andrew linked to it last night and apparently people have been reading it, so I'll go ahead and give you an obvious route to my commentary on why I'm a United Methodist.

Yes, the Cub girl shares the photo accompanying the column. Just so you know, that photo appears by special request of the managing editor. Robin Russell is a woman of impeccable taste.

Maundy Thursday - not Easter yet!

When you spend Wednesday evening working on Easter music, it's kind of hard to get into the whole contemplative Maundy Thursday groove. My current earworm is a band/choir extravaganza we're using to kick off both services Sunday morning, in which both of us girls singing lead have to try really hard not to lay on any pop-star-esque sap, yet still convey joy and wonder and all that jazz.

But tonight comes first. I'm just sayin'...

Rides, but at a price.

Friday I got to go on a ride with The Typist, and today I got to go on another ride with The Alpha!

But they were both the kind with needles at the other end. Friday there was just one needle, but today there were four needles, which I know because that's how many paws I have (I learned that from another blog buddy, but I can't remember who).

Besides all the needles there was also some tickling of my tummy, and they put an uncomfortable thing in a very impolite place, and then did some talking with The Alpha. Then the lady vet asked to see my teeth.

So I showed her.

I did a really good job showing her my teeth. She didn't think she needed to see them any more.

And then The Alpha had to stand at the counter and rub one of those sticks on a piece of paper before we could leave. And then we went home.

Taking my blog back

Yeah, it's Cub back again. The Typist gets all reflective and stuff sometimes and I just have to let her do her thing, but she's done now.

Today is my birfday!
(I have no idea what that means, besides that The Boy and I got to have Frosty Paws after supper.) They sang at me and everything.

I'm seven.
(I don't know what that means, either.)

After I finished my Frosty Paws and The Boy finished his, we licked each other's Frosty Paws cups to make sure nobody missed anything. Turns out we are very good at eating Frosty Paws.

Of course, what else would you expect from Very Good Dogs?

Church fatigue

Went on a little Google hunt this evening. First, church fatigue. Results were mostly stuff about people visiting too many European cathedrals in the same vacation...sounded more like architecture fatigue to me.

Then I tried "church fatigue" -- in quotes -- and found this post from a guy in France I've never read before. He touches on what I'm feeling lately in his opening paragraph:

“Every church member who loves the church will also be deeply pained by it. This does not, however, call for discarding the church, but for reforming and renewing it.” This quote so reflects my thinking about the Church at the moment that I thought I’d share it with you. It comes from Transforming Mission by D. J. Bosch.

Thing is, I'm totally on board with reforming and renewing. But I feel like I have few reliable companions in the effort, at least within my own local community of faith.

When I was on church staff, we studied church growth patterns and discovered we were a textbook case of many churches our size -- stuck at a plateau. And, for various reasons, we're still stuck there. From my angle, one of the reasons we're stuck is that people keep discarding our congregation (I realize the textbook above posits a pretty solid theory as to why this happens, but the fact remains: it happens). I've seen a lot of people come and go at my local church, which bothers me. It also bothers me that I've let that very thing bother me for years...the going, especially.

My view leaves me bitter, and thus less able to be a reformer, a renewer, a co-creator with God.

There are inspired and dedicated people in our congregation working hard at effective mission and ministry. On my better days, I believe I'm one of them, and I see the difference we're making in the name of Christ. On my worse days, I make a mental list of families who've transferred to larger congregations in other suburbs (and where we live, there are plenty from which to choose while still remaining in the UMC). And on my absolute worst days, I wonder if I could back off and be one of those people who devotes just an hour a week to Christianity and thinks that's more than enough.

Where am I tonight? Well, I guess I'm somewhere between worse and worst. But more than anything, I'm just so flippin' tired.

So, I'd better go get some sleep, because I certainly won't get it tomorrow... Wednesdays are rehearsal nights, after all, and Easter's coming.

Please, Lord, let Easter be coming. Within me.

Friday Five: Rivers in the Desert

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19, NRSV

From Songbird over at RevGalBlogPals:
As we near the end of the long journey toward Easter, a busy time for pastors and layfolk alike, I ponder the words of Isaiah and the relief and refreshment of a river in the desert.

For this Friday Five, name five practices, activities, people or _____ (feel free to fill in something I may be forgetting) that for you are rivers in the desert.

The Typist here, playing alone today. (Unless Cub's at the vet, she pretty much lives in the "river..." and I pray her desert days are few and far between!)

So, my rivers in the desert:

1. The Alpha. I can hardly believe I've known him for half my life now. And been married to him for a third of my life. He's such a blessing.

2. Both dogs. Cub and Angus (aka The Boy) are basically comfort and happiness covered in fur (which they shed all over the house with reckless abandon, but that's beside the point).

3. RevGals. There's something precious about clicking on any of our huge list of blogs and enjoying a pleasant distraction (Mindy, her Weinermobile sighting, and the hilarious lead-in story), finding a need for prayer (a round of diagnostic tests for Elastigirl's the worrier), or receiving a prompt for spiritual reflection (Cheesehead's meditation on John 12:1-8)... and honestly, it doesn't matter which one of those it is. The connection is what matters.

4. Going out to eat. It's a frivolity, yes, but one that can feed me in multiple ways... allows a little break from the ordinary and the opportunity for face-to-face conversation. And it's less of a frivolity when viewed in the context of "table fellowship." I've taken a dip in this river more often than usual this week.

5. Yoga. In January, a dear church friend who is a newly-certified instructor began offering yoga sessions. Sometimes it's difficult to mentally take "this hour just for you," as she says, but even if I'm not totally into it, it helps me get a sense of renewal. (An example of not being totally into it: this week, during the meditation that ends the hour, she was leading us through a scene at a lake. In the scene, a flock of geese landed among tree stumps sticking up out of the water. One of the members of my imagined flock was he who we know as our Goose... The Boy, Angus. Our Australian Cattle Dog, who in real life occasionally does think he can fly, descended with the Canada Geese and perched uncertainly on a tree stump, giving his little honk-like whine that led to us adding Goose to his list of nicknames. It was difficult to not burst out laughing in the midst of my relaxing meditation, but at the same time, the visual was so perfect!)

Friday Five: Whatcha doin'?

From Reverend Mother at RevGalBlogPals:
Well friends, this is one of those weeks when I simply must work today, which is normally my day off. I know, I know. We may tut-tut all we want, but the fact is, some weeks are like that. So, this week's F5 is simple. Name five things you plan to do today.

The Typist and I are playing together today. Here's what we're doin':

Typist: Work from home. Friday is my telecommuting day.
Cub: Nap on my couch. Did you know I have my own couch?

Typist: Pick up a refill of one of Cub's prescriptions.
Cub: Hang out in the backyard while The Typist is gone.

Typist: Greet friend Doc, who is coming in from out of town later.
Cub: Doc? Coming over? Dogs LOVE Doc! I'll lick him as long as he'll let me!

Typist: Recommend a friend for the Peace Corps. Just submitted it online!
Cub: Chase The Boy. It's a daily discipline.

Typist: Go to a concert... I hope. I haven't bought the tickets yet, and it doesn't start until past my bedtime.
Cub: Patrol the perimeter.

Bonus: If today is about "have-to" for you as well, share up to five things you'd like to be doing today.

Typist: I'm pretty happy with today for what it is, but I always like the opportunity to have lunch with a friend. Which probably won't happen today.
Cub: You know, I haven't gone for a swim in a while. That would be fun!

Living my Friday Five

So, yeah, The Typist here again. After I played the Friday Five last week, guess what I did?

• Friday night I had Item 5. (Ever the practical one, I made sure I had short fingernails first. You don't want sauce getting trapped under your nails.)
• Saturday morning at 10 a.m. I indulged in Item 1. (Highlight in the self-care department... I actually signed up for a membership!)
• Saturday for lunch I finished of what was left of my stock of Item 3. (Australian Cheddar, to commemorate the heritage of The Boy.)
• Saturday afternoon at 3 I had Item 2. (The Alpha only held his ears for about 4 of the songs -- including the trash can number which was flippin' sweet! He agreed, but thought it was still too loud.) And I might get to have it again this Friday!
• Sunday night I enjoyed Item 4. (An introduction to a lovely variety known as Bootlegger, thanks to a gift from the friend who joined us Friday night for Item 5.)

In summary, Yay! Cool weekend. Wheee!

I close this post with a note that will please Cub...
Coming up this weekend: Doc.
Dogs. LOVE. Doc.

Friday Five: Matters of Taste

The Typist here, playing along with Songbird over at RevGalBlogPals:

My mother loved figs.
I only like them in a Newton.
It's all a matter of taste.

Name five things you like a lot that some close relative or significant other did/does not like. This could be food, movies, hobbies, music, sports or whatever springs to mind.

1. Getting massages. The Alpha has never had a professional massage, and doesn't really care to try one.

2. Live music. His ears are so sensitive that he has to take earplugs to pretty much any live venue (except church). When I convinced him to see Trout Fishing in America last year, I had a blast while he had a headache. He does enjoy music, as long as he can control the volume on the CD player.

3. Gourmet cheeses. When I buy a bit of extra-special cheese from Whole Paycheck, he pretty much never wants a taste of it. And when he does accept a bite, he's seldom impressed.

4. Beer. Qualifying statement: I pride myself in being a beer snob. I refuse most domestic lagers, even if someone else is paying, because if you can see through it, chances are it's not worth the calories it contains. I've even played with homebrewing, and wound up with a nice little nut-brown ale. The Alpha appreciates a medium-bodied ale for including in his latest chili recipe, but never for drinking.

5. Ribs. I absolutely love a good slab of ribs, but he thinks they're too much trouble. So, he finishes his chopped beef sandwich and spends the rest of his time at the table grinning at me while I gnaw on bones. Thankfully, he thinks it's cute.

Weekend Dose of Cuteness

Okay, so it's actually last weekend's cuteness. But we're showing it off to you this weekend.


Here's The Boy letting puppy Jolene win.
He let her win a lot. In fact, he's pretty big on letting everybody win. Such a good sport at being bottom-of-the-pack, that Boy. I just wanna contribute something to the team, he says.

Friday Five: Artsy Craftsy

The Typist here, playing the Friday Five from Reverend Mother over at RevGalBlogPals:

During Lent here at Suburban Presbyterian Church, we are exploring the creative and liturgical arts, with classes and speakers dealing with storytelling, iconography, dance, visual art, writing, and so on. The theme is "A Beautiful Thing," inspired by the story of the woman anointing Jesus and his declaration that "She has done a beautiful thing for me." (Mark 14, NIV) We are working on the notion that everything we do can be considered a beautiful thing--a creative offering to God--whether it's gardening or scrapbooking or accounting or sorting clothes at the clothes closet or child-rearing. And so:

1. Would you call yourself "creative"? Yep. Why or why not? I let my dog have a blog, don't I? ...but seriously, folks, I find expression and satisfaction in music, dance, writing, and my newest crafty pursuit, knitting.
2. Share a creative or artistic pursuit you currently do that you'd like to develop further. I'm keenly aware that the more I sing, the more I can do with my voice, so I plan to keep that up. Being in the worship band (in addition to choir, which I've always done) has given me opportunities that I wouldn't have had otherwise. Plus, it's lots of fun and there's great collaboration and flexibility in how we do things.
3. Share a creative or artistic pursuit you have never done but would like to try. Well, a few months ago I would've said knitting, but now I'm doing that. Probably playing violin, though I know I wouldn't be able to get far with all of my other commitments in the way.
4. Complete this sentence: "I am in awe of people who can play musical instruments well, especially guitar, violin, and piano. I don't have the discipline to do that."
5. Share about a person who has encouraged your creativity, who has "called you to your best self." (I'm pretty sure that's from the Gospel of Oprah.) My dear sweet bandmate Julie, who has an absolutely amazing voice and has served as a mentor to me not only in singing, but also in other crafty-type pursuits like texturing my dining room walls.

Play time with a new kid...

Yesterday we got to meet Jolene.


She's already bigger than she is in this picture.

She came over to play. She's brand-new, and kinda stupid. Puppies can be that way. I used to be stupid, too.

Jolene kept getting too close to my hip, which I didn't like. But she and The Boy became fast friends, and they played and played all over the back yard (but especially in the monkey grass), and The Alpha says she's going to come over again, so I might as well play, too.


I hope she doesn't get bigger than me. Because I won't like that one bit.


She went home all covered in The Boy's slobber. They played hard.

Sooo hungry!

Remember the thing about breakfast being delayed? Well, now it seems to be delayed all the time. The Alpha used to feed us before he left for work, but now we have to wait a little longer, until The Typist leaves for work. The Boy puts on his best so hungry look, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. I think it has to do with one of my peanut-buttery pills that I get way early in the morning. Also, they quit giving me one of my other pills, but that's fine with me. Three is plenty. It's about as high as I can count, anyhow.

We do get fed, the same amount as before and everything. It's just later than it used to be, and this concerns The Boy very much. Me, I just take a nap while I wait.

Breakfast delayed!

Well, yesterday started off confusing. They fed The Boy, and not me. I looked at them with my best puppy-dog eyes, and they seemed sympathetic, but still didn't give me any food.

Then, after The Alpha left for work, The Typist and I left The Boy all alone and went for a ride in the car. I rode shotgun, but with my special harness on that hooks into the seat belt, of course. From the beginning it was obvious we were heading vetwards. And, sure enough, we got there. I think it's plenty just to get there and then walk back out the door and go for another ride, but The Typist never seems to feel that way.

How are you today, Cub? asked the nice lady. Asymptomatic, said The Typist. Which was funny to the thumb-havers.

So, I had to sit on a flat thing while they looked at some numbers, which they seemed to like (wow, just under 50! still svelte!). Then the nice lady took me back to the little room where they poke me with a needle. Which really wasn't too terrible, and didn't take very long. The Typist barely had time to do even a row of knitting when they brought me back out and said how good I was. Because I am.

Then The Typist and the nice lady talked some more, and The Typist handed her plastic card to the nice lady, and then the nice lady remembered I hadn't had any breakfast and came around the counter with three treats!!!

And when I got home I had to take my pill and wait another very long time between the pill and breakfast. But I did finally get fed. And this time it was The Boy giving the sad puppy-dog look and not having anything put in his bowl.

They weren't looking...

...so I danced around the living room with The Boy, while the thumb-havers were eating supper and couldn't go staring at us. I don't mind having observers when we play chase -- it's kinda neat to have a cheering section -- but with the dancey-wrestling-type stuff it's a little embarrassing when you get caught. So, we only do that when they're not looking.

Then, later, I took a nap on the couch while The Boy took a nap on the floor and The Alpha watched the flickering box and The Typist played with her sticks and yarn. I had a really great dream-chase. I think they know, somehow, because they were looking at me with the whole isn't she cute expression. Well, I am cute, so that's fine with me.

Friday Five: American Idols

From Songbird over at RevGalBlogPals:
Yes, it's true. I've been watching Season Six of American Idol with my daughter, our first time dipping into this particular well of pop culture. In the spirit of believing you can do anything, as the auditioners so clearly do, please fill in the following five blanks.

Seeing as how I don't get into singing except the occasional howl or bark along with "Happy Birthday," The Typist has played on her own today. She would like everyone to know that she has never watched more than five minutes of said television program. She confesses that she is a TV snob, and is unaware of when said program regularly airs. (Also, I think it bugs her that she's too old to try out. Or so she's heard.)

1) If I could sing like anyone, it would be Natalie Maines.
2) I would love to sing the song "Godspeed" by Radney Foster. Oh, wait, I did sing that for my friend's baby's baptism.
3) It would be really cool to sing at a recording studio.
4) If I could sing a dream duet it would be with this question is too hard! (Actually, so was number two.) One of my dream careers is backup singer, so I've dreamed of backing lots of artists. Maybe Billy Joel, or Don Henley, or a quartet with the Dixie Chicks.
5) If I could sing on a TV or radio show, it would be Austin City Limits.

The Typist says she has to get ready for "work" now. Yeah, whatever that is. Just looks like a bunch more typing to me.

Hic (hic) ups.

This afternoon I started in with some hiccups. I used to get those a lot when I was a puppy, but I hadn't had them in so long I kinda forgot what they were.

Just as I was getting used to having them again, The Alpha hollered, "CUB!!"

I looked up. What is it you want, dear Alpha? Is there a perimeter to patrol?

"Good girl!" he said. Because I am.

And then I noticed the hiccups weren't there anymore.

Darndest thing.

This Thing that's Not for Dogs

The Typist is helping get some people together at some place, for some thing, and I'm probably not going. I think it would be of very little interest to dogs, unless there's time scheduled for belly rubs.



It's in May, in Fayetteville. I like Fayetteville, but I haven't been there in a long time. Last time I went, The Alpha let me chase squirrels around this place he called college.

Because all the DogPals are doing it...

I just had to know my title. Zorra's is better. It contains "Goosnargh on the Carpet," which I'm sure The Boy must have done at some point.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Venerable Lady Dogblogger the Ebullient of Puddleston St Droop Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

The Typist says I'm definitely Ebullient. I think I'm past the Puddleston stage, though, and I'm a little confused about the St Droop thing. My ears are very pointy. Molly, are you sure this one isn't yours?

Badda Bing Badda Boom Friday Five

from the RevGals:
It's been a very full, busy week. Here's the F5, short and sweet. The questions are simple, the answers unlimited. Go!

Who... Miss Julie and Miss Claire

What... Lunch and hanging around

When... Earlier today

Where... My house

Why... Miss Julie needed to sing something with The Typist, and brought little Miss Claire, who needed to eat soup and cuddle up on my couch and watch a movie because she'd been to the doctor (The Typist said it's like the vet for people -- I like to cuddle up on my couch after I go to the vet, too, so I don't blame her one bit).

Bonus: How... Very politely -- well, except for that one time I got a little too excited and jumped up and licked Miss Julie in the eye. Miss Julie and Miss Claire love me and The Boy, so it's always nice to see them.

Perching, accessorizing

Yes, The Boy has taken up his perch again. As you can see, I remain unamused. The thumb-havers think it's hilarious, of course. Here's a wider shot for context:

There's The Typist next to us. See those sticks and the orange stuff in her lap? She's been playing with these sticks -- not chewing on them, mind you, and they look great for that -- nearly every day for weeks now. At some point she decided she was finished playing with the orange stuff, which she called homework, and tied it around my neck and called it my scarf.



I don't care what it's called, I'm a big fan of wearing stuff around my neck. So it's pretty nifty, especially because orange is a color I can see better, and it's nice and long so I can look down at it. I'm not allowed to wear it outside because I get sticks tangled up in it (wait a minute... it's okay when The Typist tangles her sticks up in it, but not when I tangle up mine? I don't get it), but I'm thrilled with wearing it around the house.

The Alpha mentioned The Boy getting one, too, but The Typist says she's done with homework and isn't making any scarfs for dogs, and that this one only just happened to fit me. Besides, the stuff she's got on the sticks right now looks way too fluffy for The Boy, or any boy for that matter.

Too busy for blogging?!?

Apparently, The Typist has other things on her mind this week. Work, and stuff, and looking at college essays for human kids, and knitting. And stuff. There are even dog pictures waiting to be loaded off the camera, but she hasn't done it.

So, a quick run-down: The Typist has been back in town so long we've forgotten she ever left; Been getting nice regular walks; I gave in and started chewing on my fake bone; The Alpha built a new dog door for the winter weather; The Boy accidentally got shut out of the bedroom last night (and I wasn't going to tell them either, so he finally spoke up about it); and The Boy seems to be interested in learning to climb ladders, with encouragement from The Alpha. (Don't encourage him, says The Typist. But nobody listens.)

Thursday's Highlight Reel

Another really good day at Congress on Evangelism!

• Filming the re-enactments posted here.
• Hearing (and typing 3 pages of notes on) a really inspiring talk on relational evangelism and the Life Journal practice from my plane ride buddy, Bishop Wills (see also re-enactments).
• Enjoying a lovely MethoBlogger meetup dinner/conversation with several folks considering becoming bloggers themselves.
• Carrying on a wide-ranging after-dinner conversation at the Red Parrot, in which we brainstormed and dreamed on the future of the Methoblog, solved all the church's problems, uploaded some video, accidentally offered up choice quotes for gavin's use at an undetermined point in the future, distracted Jay and Beth while they finished their worship bulletins for this Sunday, and celebrated Holy Communion together.

Tomorrow most of us have to miss the end of the Congress to either hit the long road home or get to the airport. But we're really glad we had this time together (it would've taken far, far longer to get to know each other this well by clicking "add comment").

G'night!

Field Reporting from The Typist

Well, it's been a neat day at Congress on Evangelism! There are at least 9 MethoBloggers at this meetup: Reverend Mommy and RevAbi, who are graciously sharing their room with me; John the Methodist, who has asked us to consider participating in the MethoBlogger profile series; Beth, Gavin, Jonathon, Jay, Susan, and me. And if any of those links don't work, sorry, but I'm too tired to check them all. Several of those are also RevGals, and some more are thinking about joining.

There are some videos of Gavin and Jonathon up on Reverend Mommy's site, if you want a workshop sampling. I arrived late, in the middle of Reverend Mommy and Jay's first workshop, because yesterday a bolt went missing off the plane I was supposed to be riding, and the next available flight was this morning. Interestingly, on this flight I wasn't supposed to be on, I wound up sitting next to Bishop Wills. I hope I didn't talk too much about blogging and digital community stuff. I managed to get my knitting homework done and he did some journaling, so I know I didn't talk non-stop.

Tonight most of the MethoBloggers wound up having dinner together, and four of us had Lazy River Time after that. Yes, our hotel has an indoor Lazy River, enclosed for the winter, complete with tubes for floating and a waterfall bridge. (The pirate ship is in the outdoor area, so we didn't get to play on that.)

Okay. Tired. Gotta get up and do more in the morning. G'Night.

Resolutions, past and future

Happy New Year! I seem to have done pretty well on most of my resolutions from last year. I'm still svelte, and shiny in the sun, and I've gotten really good at catching The Boy when we play chase. Got into a bit of trouble with keep on chewin', though, as was detailed in the saga of the cracked toof.

The Typist says she's not doing resolutions this year. Even the vague ones don't seem to work well for her. But I think I did so well with last year's, I'll just keep them -- well, except for the one about chewing. Need to see if the fake bone things they got for me to chew are actually any good... and I doubt it. I'm a bit of a chew-snob.

Expect to hear more directly from The Typist this week, reporting from her Methoblogger and RevGals meetups!

Friday Five: Dream a Little Dream

The Typist here, playing this week's Friday Five (although I'm sure the other owner of this blog dreams frequently of chasing squirrels and bunnies).

"In the Last Days," God says,"I will pour out my Spirit on every kind of people: Your sons will prophesy,also your daughters; Your young men will see visions, your old men dream dreams. When the time comes, I'll pour out my Spirit On those who serve me, men and women both, and they'll prophesy."(Acts 2:17-18, The Message)

On this final Friday of 2006, it seems appropriate to speak of dreams. A very important dream about a lighthouse played a role in my journey towards ordained ministry, and mine last night were vivid and included a flying church. Please feel as untethered yourself in responding to this Friday Five. Tell us all about:

1) a dream you remember from childhood: See answer to #3.

2) a recurring or significant dream: One of my mother's hobbies was stained glass. More than a decade after her death, I had my one and only dream of her thus far. In it, she was showing me a large multi-paneled stained glass window, and one of the upper corner panels was clear glass. She didn't say anything, but gestured at that one, and I got the distinct impression it was for me to finish. (Hoping it was a metaphor, as I have no plans to take up that hobby... but soon after, I felt called to a much more active role in the life of the church, and I know she sorely missed being active in church during her illness.)

3) a nightmare: As a small child, I had such a vivid dream that the amusement park in our hometown had burned, that I convinced my big sister to drive me there that morning to check on it, even though it was closed that day.

4) a favorite daydream: That I can one day become a full-time philanthropist.

5) a dream for the New Year: That I will become more open to that particular life change I find especially terrifying. Tried getting there this year, and it didn't happen.

First New Blogger Post!

Here we are on the New Blogger. Don't want to jinx it, but hey, that didn't seem like it was too difficult.

We had a great Christmas, yes we did. The Boy and I got a new Squirrely to share (we've already broken one of the squeakers, but now it sounds like crunching bones, so that's good, too), and we each got one of these fake bones that the thumb-havers want us to chew on instead of real bones. Something about not cracking another molar. I've eschewed mine thus far. But I think it's buried in the chow bin right now, so maybe when it comes out of there it'll smell better.

The Typist is making noise about more travel. I hope she hides her suitcase from The Boy, because he's pretty neurotic when it comes to that sort of thing. Not wanting to Get Left and all.

She says she's going to get to see some of our blog friends, though: Reverend Mommy, Rev Abi, and John the Methodist, to name just a few. Wish I could go, but she tells me that Molly and Amie and their thumb-havers won't be there, anyway, so I wouldn't have much fun. Better to just stay here and hang out with The Alpha so he doesn't get lonely.

2006: Year of the Best Lazy Christmas Tree Ever

The red box of ornaments sat on the fireplace hearth for, oh, 3 weeks at least.

One ornament (purchased in honor of The Boy's arrival to the pack last year) came out of the box and made its way onto the tree, but only because it defies description and had to be shown to a certain visiting niece late on the night of December 5.

Yes, that's a wide-eyed goose.

Running.

With a tomato strapped to its back.

No, we don't know why. But it does capture the spirit of The Boy quite well.

A nice little cross received as a gift landed there, too, but besides that and the pre-lit niftiness, the tree remained bare.

Until The Typist decided that the stack of Christmas cards on the kitchen counter had to go somewhere else, and she and The Alpha nestled them in the branches of the tree. It's as crafty as she gets these days -- no, wait, she started knitting lessons the other night -- and we're all quite pleased with it:

There's even a card from a Blog Friend on there:

Oh, and The Typist and I joined RevGalBlogPals today. It's about time. We've played plenty of Friday Fives and all.

Merry Christmas!

The Alphabet Meme

Mindy gave The Typist my letter, F, over the weekend, and we are just now getting to it. The delay is not my fault; I have plenty of time on my paws. Somebody's been flitting around to activities not involving dogs, though.

So, finally... 10 things I love that begin with F:

1) Food. My food, The Boy's food, thumb-haver food...although I don't get much of that.

2) Friends! Friends who come over. I like to hear "coming over." Because that usually leads to friends.

3) Family. Our pack is really really the best pack to have.

4) Fall. The tan in my coat looks really, really pretty when the leaves start to turn. Plus, fall air smells especially good.

5) Fetch. Actually, I don't so much fetch as I do capture, then taunt the thumb-haver that wants me to bring it back. But Fetch starts with F.

6) Football. It's a nubby football that screams when I bite it. The Alpha doesn't let me have it very often because it screams when I bite it.

7) "Free puppy": a phrase we all know has no truth to it, but somehow it got me to where I am anyway.

8) Fast chases around the living room with The Boy.

9) F is the letter that starts off my last name. So I like F.

10) Flowery bandanna that I got for Easter one year.

The Typist says no more posts until we switch to the new Blogger, so who knows when that'll be.

Friday Five on a Saturday: Yuletide Favorites

From the RevGals:
For this mid-December Friday Five, let's explore some Yuletide favorites.

1) It's a Wonderful Life--Is it? Do you remember seeing it for the first time?
Eh, honestly? I'm bored by nearly everything filmed in black and white. (But no, I do not want Ted Turner to colorize it; I'll just have a nap in front of it instead, thankyouverymuch.) I love b&w photography, though; go figure.

2) Miracle on 34th Street--old version or new?
How 'bout neither?

3) Do you have a favorite incarnation of Mr. Scrooge?
Either Bill Murray or Statler the Muppet.

4) Why should it be a problem for an elf to be a dentist? I've been watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for years now, and I still don't get it.
Elfin food groups are not conducive to good dental care; most of them would rather live in blissful denial, feasting on candy canes, cotton candy, candy corn, and syrup.

5) Who's the scariest character in Christmas specials/movies?
The Bumble
The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, Muppet Version
That Mean Magician Who Tries to Melt Frosty
Your Nomination
This is a tough one. I kinda like Will Smama's Osmond insinuation, but of the four above, I'd have to say the Muppet Ghost.

Wow, The Typist isn't a heretic, either!

Turns out she and all her blog-friends so far aren't as bad as they were afraid they might be.

You scored as Chalcedon compliant. You are Chalcedon compliant. Congratulations, you're not a heretic. You believe that Jesus is truly God and truly man and like us in every respect, apart from sin. Officially approved in 451. Chalcedon compliant 83% Pelagianism 67% Modalism 50% Monophysitism 50% Apollanarian 42% Arianism 33% Gnosticism 33% Nestorianism 25% Adoptionist 25% Monarchianism 17% Albigensianism 17% Docetism 8% Socinianism 0% Donatism 0% Are you a heretic? created with QuizFarm.com

Fa-la-la-la-la, La Friday Five

From RevGalBlogPals... seems I can't give just one answer to each of these this time around:

1. A favorite 'secular' Christmas song.
The Christmas Song ("Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."). I liked it even more when I learned that it was written during a summer heat wave in an effort to think about winter, with the hope of cooling off through the power of suggestion.
Another favorite: Christmastime is Here, from the Charlie Brown special. I got to sing it at two parties last year -- one as official entertainment, the other an impromptu with a jazz pianist friend!

2. Christmas song that chokes you up (maybe even in spite of yourself--the cheesier the better)
What Sweeter Music by John Rutter. Except I'm not allowed to get choked up if I'm in the choir that's singing it.
Also, the last verse of Once In Royal David's City, but a different last verse than the one brought up by Quotidian Grace:
Not in that poor, lowly stable with the oxen standing by
We shall see him, but in heaven, set at God's right hand on high.
Where, like stars, his children crowned
All in white shall wait around.

3. Christmas song that makes you want to stuff your ears with chestnuts roasted on an open fire.
Santa Baby (with apologies to Songbird for dissing her answer to #1, but really... it's just creepy, folks...).
Also, Jolly Old St. Nicholas, for its blatant bring me stuff message.

4. The Twelve Days of Christmas: is there *any* redeeming value to that song? Discuss.
Yes, I think there is. While not on my personal top 10 list, it's easier to sing if it can be acted out with gusto (especially the Lords a'Leaping part).

5. A favorite Christmas album
I spend so much time rehearsing music for Christmas that I seldom buy a Christmas album just for listening to. But Barenaked Holidays (from the Barenaked Ladies, of course) is a pretty good one in our collection, as is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's big popular release from a few years back.

Snowy and blurry

We get excited when it snows, The Boy and I do. It all comes from snow only happening every once in a long while.

Today the thumb-havers made us stay inside when they went to work, but when they got back, it had started snowing and we got to go out and play!

We went round and round the yard. You can see here that I really streamlined myself, to make a well-furred machine totally determined to Get The Boy. Which I did, a few seconds later.

We both got a little blurry with all the nifty cold air and cold white stuff and action! I couldn't even chew on a stick slow enough for the camera to get the whole stick.

The Boy couldn't even stop being blurry for The Alpha to pet him.

See? Or, can you?

We sure had fun! (Molly, I remember what you mean about the snow now, even though we don't get as much as you do!)

Abandoned. (okay, not really.)

Yeah, we had different thumb-havers this weekend. The Typist and The Alpha took luggage into the garage -- and we all know The Boy knows what a suitcase means, and he tried to go with them, but wasn't allowed. Pretty soon, though, a back-up set of thumb-havers arrived and stayed with us a couple of nights, but they slept in that other room that we only hang out in when we're defending the perimeter from people who think they have a right to use our sidewalk or something. Anyhow, here's a picture Aunt Lidna took:

The Boy is either shy or itchy in this picture. My bet is on itchy, because he really needed a bath.

He got one, too, as soon as The Alpha and The Typist got home. For some reason, I was able to avoid the same torture by lying casually in the middle of the bedroom floor. Apparently, if I don't make a big deal about it by hiding, they forget to give me a bath. Then again, maybe I didn't need one; it's only been a day since his bath and The Boy is already getting his stink back. He has a natural talent for that. (Why can't he have some other natural talent?, The Typist wants to know.) My natural talent is shedding... I'm a German Shedder, after all.

The Boy swears that the next time the suitcase comes out, he will not get left. (Apparently he has some sort of plan, though I can't imagine it would be very involved, with his thought process. My guess is it's something along the lines of see suitcase, run for back door.) Like it's any sort of struggle being here without them -- heck, we get pampered either way -- but he has definite preferences for our regular thumb-havers. He won't even go outside to pee for Grandma.

RevGals' Friday Five: Giving Thanks

From RevGalBlogPals: It's that time of year. In the U.S., college students will be on their way home, traffic on the highways will be at its highest point, cooking and baking will ensue. But before the gorging and napping begins, let's take a moment to give thanks. Please tell us five things or people for which you are thankful this year.

The Typist and I are both going to play! Here goes:

DogBlogger: I'm thankful for The Typist and The Alpha. They took me in when I was a wee pup with missing fur, and they helped me grow my fur back and everything. Also, they're still very nice to have around. I have a feeling I wouldn't be allowed in this house if it weren't for them.
The Typist: I'm thankful for my PoppyGirl! She's truly been a blessing, and as my own very first dog, she taught me how amazing, smart, loving, and all-around wonderful pups can be.

DB: Aw, shucks...
TT: Don't mention it, SweetieGirl. Poppy kisses?
DB: Poppy kisses!!!

DB: I'm also thankful for The Boy. I wasn't too sure about him when he arrived on the scene, but he's proven to be entertaining, willing to share, and I still get the same amount of food as before he was around, which is comforting.
TT: I'm very thankful for The Alpha. He's also entertaining and willing to share. I'm especially thankful he shares my whole life with me.

DB: Hmm, number 3... I'm thankful for a sunny yard. I love lying out in the sun with my coat shining and getting all warm and toasty.
TT: I'm thankful for friends and family (two- and four-footed), especially friends who have become our in-town family and church family, like Mid-Life Rookie and her family.

DB: I'm thankful for walks and rides! Even when the rides get too long sometimes, because it usually means good stuff at the other end.
TT: I'm thankful that life, though it has its frustrations, is really pretty darn easy and good for us.

DB: And last on this short list, I'm thankful for everyone who comes through the front door to see me! I'm always so glad to have guests!
TT: I'm thankful for music and the great people and things it has brought into my life.

"S" is for Strangekitty

On our double-u-ay-ell-kay this evening, The Boy and I saw a really fluffy kitty! We wanted to go chase it, but The Alpha held us back. We pulled and pulled, and I noticed that the black fluffy kitty didn't quite look like the other neighborhood kitties -- it had a really fluffy tail, and some white stripey fur all the way down its back and tail, too.

So, the fluffy kitty ran away from us and behind some trees. The Alpha seemed pretty pleased that the kitty ran away, but I'm still thinking about what fun it would've been to run up and sniff that kitty. (You never really get a good sense of something until you've given it a good sniff.)

RevGals' Friday Five: What's Red and Blue and Purple All Over?

I can't see very many colors, but The Typist can, so she decided she wanted to play the Friday Five this week. So, here it is.

Those of us who are in the United States have just been through quite a topsy-turvy election. During the campaign we heard a fair amount about red states and blue states, when in fact most of us live in some shade of purple. And so... a lighter look at those confounding colors:

1. Favorite red food:
Strawberries.

2. Tell us about the bluest body of water you've ever seen in person.
When we took our Kenai Fjords National Park glacier cruise from Seward, Alaska, we saw some blue, blue spots near the mouths of Resurrection Bay and Aialik Bay, and at the toe of Northwestern Glacier, that were amazing beyond anything words or camera could capture. (We were too agog to be even a little worried about the icebergs bumping against the hull of our boat.)

3. It's movie rental time: Blue Planet, The Color Purple, or Crimson Tide?
Don't think I've ever seen Blue Planet, but I do remember liking Crimson Tide pretty well, even though it's been at least a decade since I've seen it.

4. What has you seeing red these days?
Lots of stuff! Injustice and stupidity are right there at the top, though.

5. What or who picks you up when you're feeling blue?
The Whats: The right CD for the mood I'm in; sweet and/or fatty foods; and the shirking of responsibility, even if it's just a tiny bit.
The Whos: The Alpha, The Best Dog Ever, and her goofy sidekick, The Boy, of course! Also, assorted BlogPals (RevGal and otherwise).

"Wild and Unruly"

So The Alpha and The Typist were watching their favorite girl band on VH1 Storytellers the other night. We were all on the couch together, and we overheard The Typist comment that she likes the lyric "I want to grow something wild and unruly."

That's when The Boy grumbled to me, "Every time I try to grow something wild and unruly, she tells me, 'Boy, put that thing away!'"

I think I know what he was talking about, but I just pretended I didn't hear him.

Why doesn't he get it? WHY?

Okay, I realize he wasn't around here when he was a tiny pup, so he didn't get all the benefit of growing up with The Alpha and The Typist like I did. But, you'd think, after all this time, that The Boy would've figured out the "down" command. He hasn't.

They attempt to teach him the same way they taught me... with voice, hand signals, physical guidance on positioning, praise, ear rubs, toys, even treats on occasion. But first off, he seems to like sitting way better. And second, he apparently thinks "down" is the same as "are you a bellydawg?" because he rolls over on his back half the time.

I can hear The Alpha still working with him in the living room. There are more "Good boy"s than there were a few minutes ago. So, maybe there's finally some hope. He's smart, The Boy is; he just doesn't seem to apply himself very well.

Any ideas, Internet?

Oh, my...

Check out what I got when I tried this trick I saw over at Zorra's blog:

dogblogger -- [adjective]: Extremely flatulent 'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

The Typist says it's actually more true of just about everyone in the house but me. I'm kinda glad that word isn't in my vocabulary, because I'm not sure if I want to know.

Snoozy day

Today has been a day of not doing much so far.

This picture is actually from an evening a while back, but you get the idea.

I'm so darn cute when I'm all curled up for a nap!

Nothing like a good wrassle!

Last night The Typist held onto The Boy's collar and made him sit and stay in the kitchen while I got to do something very special: wrasslin' with The Alpha!

We hadn't wrassled like that in ages. Probably not since The Boy came to live here. There was crouching, there was play posturing (The Alpha looks kinda funny with his butt up in the air like that, what with no tail on it), there was faking back and getting caught for a doggy noogie. It was great! Eventually The Typist had to let The Boy loose again, and he totally tried to horn in on my wrassle, but that's okay because we were pretting much finished anyway.

It's nice to know The Alpha still likes playing with his Poppy Girl.

Bath? No bath.

But The Boy certainly got a shampoo and rinse today, even though I didn't. I kept expecting to have to take my turn, but I didn't have to. I guess my nose really does know -- I always thought he got stinkier quicker than me. I'm not sure if it's because of his breed or because he's a boy, though. Boys of any species seem to get stinky quick.

Anyway, he's cleaner and softer now (but his coat is still not as soft as mine). And he smells all clean (which I'm sure won't last if we spend any time in the backyard this evening).

And I think maybe it's time to chase him around the room again (The Typist says there's a country song about that, but I have no idea what she's talking about).

Shockingly normal.

Life has been ever-so-typical this week. That's why I have nothing to blog about lately. It did rain a bit the other day and we had to stay inside while the thumb-havers were at work, but that just meant a nice cushy couch for napping, and that The Alpha came home at lunch to give us an outside break.

Oh, yesterday The Boy got in trouble for chewing a branch off a shrubbery that The Alpha planted. I guess, technically, we both got in trouble -- the chewed-off branch was shaken in both our directions, with "no" happening behind it -- but I know who actually did it.

I'm an enigma... what's an enigma?

Yeah, so The Alpha did some mmm-hmm-ing into the telephone after it rang this morning, then he left and came back with... more prescriptions for me! I'm one pill-popping poppy. Or one druggy doggy. Or a prodigiously prescribed pooch. It's a good thing I don't mind when a finger full of peanut butter has something hidden in it.

Rumor has it I may even start eating prescription chow. My liver's giving them fits. They are mystified because I act fine, yet they don't like what the vet says after I get needles stuck in me. They've also mentioned it'd be great if I'd get a job so I could pull a little more of my own weight around here. (I'm thinking maybe a Cafe Press product line?)

Okay, off to chase The Boy some more. It's a lovely day, but even sunbeams can grow tiresome after a few hours.

Trapped at the vet...

Okay, I'm home now. But this morning I wasn't. I had to go get more needles stuck in me. At least they fed me between stickings, because I wasn't allowed to have breakfast when The Boy was. Instead, The Alpha got me all excited by telling me I was gonna get to go for a RIDE, then he didn't take me when he left. After what seemed like forever, The Typist put The Boy outside all alone (poor The Boy -- but he did get an extra-big treat for his trouble), and we girls went out to the car. For a ride with needles at the other end. Oh, well, I like rides anyway, and I got one after the needles, too, which is how I'm back home!

Upon my return, The Boy sniffed me carefully. All over. Several times. He knows what the vet smells like.

He was right!

The Boy was totally right about getting left! We never even saw the suitcase... I think The Typist snuck it out to the car while The Alpha took me and The Boy for a w-a-l-k. Because today when they came back, they rolled it on in from the garage like nothing unusual had happened.

We did enjoy the company of Aunt Jessica and Winston, which meant not just two, but three dogs with Aunt Jess on the people bed! (Even if Winston is a little tiny thing, he still counts. Especially because even at one-quarter The Boy's size, he can freak out said Boy quite a bit.)

He knows.

The Boy (new file photo at right) is suspicious.

When The Alpha left after supper, The Boy tried to go with him. Snaked past him out the back door and into the garage. It was only after a few seconds with the door shut on him in the darkness that he would come back in, away from the car.

"Aw, you know there's a trip coming, don't you?"

Why yes, he does.

Odd. We haven't seen a suitcase, or any Getting Ready of Things, but there's been talk. Not that he can understand fully, by any means, but The Boy knows.

I know that if we get left, it'll be with somebody nifty like Aunt Jessica or Aunt KitCat, so I'm not too concerned. The Boy, however, still has Issues. Poor The Boy.

I thought that was what they wanted.

Darned if you do, darned if you don't, I say.

A couple of days ago, The Alpha was out in the back yard washing something other than me, and he left the bottle of soap outside. Naturally, The Boy decided to play with it. I noticed it smelled pretty interesting, kinda like how we smell after they make us take baths. So, I decided to lie down in the goo that came out of it, just to make them happy.

Well, it didn't make them happy. In fact, it confused them, and The Typist spent a lot of time brushing the spots on my shoulders that were sticky from the good-smelling goo. Also, it took them a while to figure out what the goo was -- but tonight The Alpha found the bottle in the yard and solved the mystery.

So, they want me to smell good... but only if I agree to go about it their way. I say we have a new mystery there.

A creek!

So we went for a RIDE just now (two rides, actually -- one there, and one back), and at the other end there were all these cool woodsy trails and a creek! The Boy and I waded in the creek while the thumb-havers tried not to get too wet themselves. (And they're still forgetting to bring the camera to capture our antics. Silly thumb-havers.)

The Boy seemed to like the water much better when he could go in on his own terms. Not like at the city pool. He even took a drink or two.

We got nice and dusty/filthy after we got out of the water. Fun!

Mmmm, denim!

Jefferson, who lived with us when I was a puppy, came over this evening. It had been quite a while since we'd seen him, so I was very excited. I squeaked and fell down on his feet. A couple of times.

His blue jeans are really yummy to lick. I don't know why. He doesn't have any animals living with him or anything that would make his denim especially lickable. They're just that special, I suppose.

The toys are back in town!

Okay, well, back in my realm, otherwise known as the floor. They'd been confiscated when I came home all groggy a while back. But we had another (another!) trip to the vet this afternoon, and when I came home we got our toys back! I'm having fun keeping them away from The Boy already.

I heard something else about "two weeks," and judging from the warning I got from the heeler in Houston last time, I'm pretty much Eee Ex Pee Eee See Tee-ing to have to go back. (Yes, more spelling. They still don't know that I know, but I know! I do.)

St. Francis had a day

Yesterday was the Feast Day of St. Francis. He's my special unseen buddy who loves animals.

When I was a tiny puppy, Aunt Lidna gave me a medal with his picture on it to wear with my other tags. I wore out the hole where it fit on my collar, so the thumb-havers had to glue it to the back of another tag to keep it on me! This morning The Typist made me sit so she could look at it, and it's gone. It must've fallen off in the yard somewhere. That's okay, though. St. Francis and I are tight, so it doesn't matter where the medal is.

The Typist sometimes mentions getting me and The Boy blessed, but when we go to church we mainly just get petted. That's okay, too. The Typist says we're pretty well blessed all the time, anyway.