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!

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.