Hunkered down at Greenberg Pass

School opened 2 hours late today.  Luckily, someone from the school called to tell me.  I don't know why I didn't check my email for closings or turn on the radio.  I mean just LOOK at it:

Then the wind kicked up and the snow started drifting--3 flakes high in some places!  Steve called once he got to work.
"Did you make it okay?"
"Only got stuck twice."
"Whew.  I was worried you'd have to resort to cannibalism."
"Resort?"

I don't feel much safer inside.  We have a bit of an infestation.  I came into the kitchen the other day to find THIS on my fridge.


Judging from the lurid colors, they're toxic, so I'm keeping my distance.  Best not to try to clean it up, I think.

I observed Ben's class yesterday.  I swear I was ready to go become a Montessori kindergarten teacher.  They were so flippin' cute.  They were all just beavering away on their mats on the floor, working alone or in groups and just BUSY.  Adorable.  Periodically, one or two would come check me out.  They're so physical, these random kids who don't know me, climbing into my lap.  Heidi and Logan came up and announced that they could each touch their noses with their tongues.  And showed me, of course.  I told them I could, too, and showed them.  AND one-upped them by wiggling my ears.  Heidi pointed out that I could only touch the bottom of my nose, while she could touch the tip of hers.  "Well, sure, I can only TOUCH my nose w/my tongue, I can't PICK it."  Hey!  Great idea Ms. Deana! Right up the nostril it went.  "Well, that will free up a lot of time for you, I imagine.  Now you won't have to waste all that time picking your nose w/your fingers and then eating your boogers.  Very efficient."  Logan marveled that such a very cool person came in such an uncool package.  "Heidi thinks I should be her boyfriend," he confided, "because we can both touch our noses with our tongues." Marriages have been based on less, my friend.  Heidi piped up, "I'm the only one in my family that can do it!"  Logan said, "I'm the only one in MY family, too!"  "See," Heidi pointed out, "that's why he should be my boyfriend!"  "I'm afraid you're stuck, Logan," I told him.  "At least Heidi's nice, too.  No one else is going to want a couple of circus freaks like you."  Heidi got right up in my face, "WHAT? Circus freaks?!"  She loved it.  She chanted, "Come see the fabulous circus freaks!" while striking a variety of poses.  All the while, she was wearing green track pants cuffed over her knees, purple socks, and red clogs.  Too small, stained, but clearly beloved Tshirt.  Very Junie B. Jones.  I'm going to have to work on Ben's nose touching, b/c I really want her for a daughter in law.

Overheard at the Salon

My hair stylist is not chatty.  When I first started going to her, I felt like I should try to make chit chat b/c that's what one does at the salon.  But she'd answer any direct questions and let it drop.  Just like I would.  Bless her.  So I can sit in silence and read or think or...eavesdrop.

The stylist next to us was chatting with her client:

"I remember the first time I shampooed a comb-over.  I wasn't really paying attention when he came in and I just started to shampoo him.  And it was like all his hair just washed off!  There was just this long swirl of hair in the sink!  I nearly screamed, I didn't know what happened for like a second. Like, I'd washed his hair off!"

She went on, describing how she'd had to hold this long, thin hank of hair to shampoo it.  She mimed the odd little washing-a-sock-in-the-sink motion it too.  But I was just so taken with that moment of My God What Have I Done? horror as the hair washed off his scalp.

My dad sported that comb-over far longer than he should have.  He'd stick a base ball cap on when outside and sometimes the combed-over part would go straight down, reaching his shoulder, like he had considered becoming a hippie, but couldn't quite commit.  How does a barber keep from saying, "Look.  Homer. You aren't fooling anyone.  Let me trim it off.  Geez."  Eventually he did, bless him.  There was a girl in one of my grad school classes that had the I Do Not Care To Attract Men super short fauxhawky haircut and a long, braided rattail.  How I longed to creep up behind her and snip it off.  It would have been one of those random acts of kindness she no doubt supported on her bumper.

We're not here to make friends. We're here to WIN.

I think dog obedience class should be a reality show. Let's pretend it is, shall we? 

Episode 1: Meet the contestants.  Our  six finalists gather at the Frederick Petsmart.  Waiting for them, in the ring, is Diane the Dog Lady.  She's clearly been sent in from Central Casting.  "Hi, yeah, we need a Dog Trainer-type.  Janet Renoish.  She'll need her own costume--polo tucked into high-waisted pleated khakis, very practical shoes.  Pocket full of liver.  Her motivation is a deep-seated antipathy toward mankind.  Great.  See you then."
 Outside the ring, confusion and chaos take hold.  The dogs, by definition ill-mannered and untrained, are lunging about trying to sniff one another.  The owners are pretending that the dogs have the slightest clue what "sit" means.  One poor woman is lugging four kids in addition to a 30 lb mange-ridden mongrel.  She keeps murmuring "My husband is in Seattle.  I won't usually have the kids" in an appologetic, yet hopeful way.  The owners of a teacup yorkie pup are smug because they can hold their dog in one hand.  A gangly yellow lab adolescent tries to make contact with the mutt.  Their excited sniffs start to head toward nips.  Their owners haul them apart.  An elderly man with a big gorgeous sheltie is in the ring, going over his vet papers with Diane the Dog Lady.  She glances up from the papers and looks at the chaos out side the ring.  A look of disgust flits across her face.  "You can come into the ring (with an implied DUH), you don't have to stand out there."   Mutterings of "sorry"  "didn't know if we had to come in one at a time" and nervous titters. (you know who has nervous titters?  First time pole dancers.)

The owners find seats and try to control their dogs.  The sheltie barks a LOT.  A straggling couple comes in with their young beagle.  She is clearly terrified.  Then another couple comes in with that girl dog from Benji.  No one kicks her or offers her a pudding cup.  Diane instructs the gathering to go around the room, introducing the dogs and telling one funny thing about the dog.  She has no interest in the people's names and does not suggest that they be revealed.  Zoe is a 6 month old yellow lab. She...they are at a loss for something funny.  Diane is annoyed.  "Does she take things from the counter?  Does she run and play?"  Come ON people.  "Um, she slides on the floors when she runs."  "Oh, and she crashes !" Diane loves this image.  "Um, well, she doesn't get hurt or anything..."  You poeple dont' know how to tell a good dog story.  Next!  Sebastian is a 6 month old Yorkie.  His ears are each as big as his head.  He looks like Yoda and is the size of a shoe.  Their funny anecdote is drowned out by the barking sheltie.  Sophie is a 6 month old beagle.  She is about to turn inside out in her desire to GET OUT of there.  Her owners found her in the middle of the dining room table today.  Fredo is a year and a half old, probably.  He's a resuce mutt.  He steals things and runs off.  His owner seems desperate to assert that he WILL drop it if you tell him!  He's a Good Boy!  Oh, and he's a huge spaz and falls down all the time.  Cookie is a 5 month old Maltese.  We don't know if she does anything funny b/c we are SO distracted by how cute Fredo is.  And what a Good Boy he is.  Huck is a 9 month old Shetland Sheepdog.  He is the 3rd Sheltie that his owners have had.  Neither of the other two ever had obedience.  Huck has been dubbed the Hound from Hades (Cerberus?) and sent to class.  He has one up ear and one down ear and just looks Smart.  But his barking is annoying.  Diane's perfect standard poodle, Blaze, is snoozing in his crate.  Actually he's faking it so that he can look SO laid back and then come in and mop up the ring.

Diane starts the owners by having them massage the dogs.  Blaze comes out so that she can show us what she means.  He sits, starting lovingly at Diane, while she rubs his face and head and gradually his body. Very peaceful.  Zoe keeps jumping up.  Sebastian can be massaged in about 20 seconds.  Sophie shakes.  Fredo flops on his back for a belly rub instead.  Cookie piddles.  Huck barks insistently at his owner.  Timmy is going to drown if that old man doesn't get off his ass and get to the well.

Diane has had Enough of the barking.  She tells the man to keep him busy.  When he does, the dog is, in fact, quiet. Huck is clearly bored out of his mind.  He barks at Fredo.  Fredo barks back.  Sophie joins in.  All three are told to take a lap to calm down.  It's clearly all Huck's fault   HE's the trouble maker.  Fredo just was telling him to shut up so that the rest of them can learn.  Sophie was sticking up for Fredo b/c she's sweet on him.  The lap calms Huck b/c he IS bored.  It wires Fredo b/c everywhere he turns one of his Children are in the store and he wants to go to them.  Sophie had no idea what was going on, anyway.

Huck has to take several laps.  His owner, embarrassed, suggests he should just go home.  Oh, how Diane longs to slap him.  People, man.  I swear.  "He (you) NEEDS this class.  he (you) cannot learn without it.  It's okay, he's a good dog and very smart.  but he (you) needs training."  The class learns about clicking and treating and Blaze shows off some more.  He's lucky he's the biggest dog.  But if the others all gang up, they can totally kick his poofter ass.  Diane goes around the ring showing how she can get all the dogs to sit by holding a treat over their heads. Zoe, the lab, sits beautifully.  She is a lab, she would say the Gettysburg Address in Swahili if it got her a treat.  Sebastian sits for a sec and pops up.  Sophie piddles.  Diane is SO annoyed that her people only get one paper towel to clean up.  "You aren't paying for them.  Use a lot.  I spent hours cleaning this mat today."  Fredo sits and then immediately flops on his back.  Cookie dances around and then sits.  Huck, could not care less about her stupid treats but is more than happy to sit or do any other tricks she could think of.  Please.  just give him a JOB.

Diane hands out homework with air of someone who knows that the dogs would do the homework, if only they weren't owned by stupid, stupid people.  Oh, how she hates people.  Class is dismissed.  The chaos resumes.  Fredo piddles.

Next week on Petsmart Dog School:  Sit!

And in extra footage you get form the website, we see that Fredo gets an injury.  He was outside playing, running for a stick, when he suddenly started yelping and crying.  We can't figure out why.  he has a vet appt. tonight.

In the "Lucky You're Cute" department...

Seems the kids have been whispering in Fredo's ear.  "If you cuddle up against her and sigh happily, she'll let you get away with pretty much anything."   Boy is a THIEF.  It's 10:30 am and so far he has snatched from the countertops, tables, and bedrooms: a plastic cup, a plastic horse, a slipper, the tub of butter, a piece of toast, a book, socks, a stuffed bunny, and some paper towel.  His drive to chew hard plastic caused me to get him a cow hoof (Have you seen these macabre build-your-own-Frankencritter bin racks in pet shops?  You can get snouts, ears, hooves, penises, tendons...I mean, ew.).  The hoof was magic for a while, just the right texture,  but I think he really enjoys the grab and go.  I don't chase him and he gives it up easily enough, but geez, dog, leave it!

But oh, so cute.  I mean, just look how sweet:





The extra kid in there is Allie.  She's staying with us until Thursday.  It's kind of odd, her mom called and asked if we could keep her for 5 days.  I suggested that that is a long time for the girls to get a long and could we split the time with someone else.  She found someone, so we just have her Mon-Thurs.  I don't mind at all, I just have trouble imagining calling up someone I only know casually, handing over my kid through e-mail, and never calling to be sure she was there and fine.  Odd.  She totally owes me now, though, and I'm going to the Carribean.  But I'll call, I swear.

Apparently there CAN be too much They Might Be Giants.

Lily, from the back of the van this evening:  When I was in music class, I played the trumpet (note: there is no music class.).  My friends all played tubas.  But one played the violin and one played the balalaika.

Me, a bit stunned:  The balalaika?

Lily: Yes.  But I played the trumpet.  I like trumpets better.

Steve: trumpets, tubas, violins, and a balalaika?  Those guys are going to ROCK.

a matter of perspective

Yesterday, Ben was rubbing Fredo's ears and said, happily, "You know, it's really not much work having a dog at all!" 

And I laughed and said, "Well yeah, because I feed him and walk him and clean up his poop."

Ben: right, I meant it's not a lot of work for ME.

As Fredo gets more comfortable with us, he becomes less perfect.  Still a pretty good boy, but WAY too focused on the smaller critters in the house.  The cats are his consuming interest and they HATE him. I feel badly that they spend all day hiding from him.  I'm having to keep rooms gated off.  He's starting to pull a lot on walks, so I need to get him used to his Gentle Leader harness (I think they should call it The Ghandi).  Vet. appt. today to check him out, I'm sure they'll tell me he's The Healthiest Dog Ever.  Except for the mange.

bah, Humbug

Valentines Day.  Please.  Has a holiday ever been a bigger pain in the butt?  Now don't get your knickers in a twist.  I swear, you get less negative reaction for saying "I hate Christmas."  or "I hate puppies."  People can at least see your reasoning there--Too commercial, too religious, too likely to piddle on the rug.  But if you don't like Valentine's Day?  Oh, well, clearly your heart was broken, nobody gives you candy, you're some kind of unredeemed grump (okay, that part's kinda true).

In college, my friends and I started Students Against Stupid Holidays.  The only thing we did was dress in black on Valentines day and wear a button with a heart in a red cross-out circle with the initials S.A.S.H. on it.  It made people LIVID.  Now, our school was heavily "greek"--a majority of students were in a sorority or fraternity.  We weren't.  The sororities took Valentines Day as a Sacred Holiday.  There was much pink and red and white, many flowers, much, much construction paper.  Like roaming packs of preschool teachers on hormone overload.  Of course, this was many (many) years ago and now I remember them all as looking and acting like the 09er cheerleaders on Veronica Mars, but I'm pretty certain I'm not far off.  They'd come up to where we were sitting in the dining hall and tell us we were poor sports.  Tell us we were just bitter. (Of COURSE we were bitter, Reagan was president [see, I told you it was a long time ago].)

Later, in grad school, a couple of us half-assedly wore our G.A.S.H. badges.  Grad school beats the cheerleader right out of you, so most people were with us, if they could even focus to see what we were up to.  And then, blessedly, I passed into the more-or-less grown up world, only associating with other people who really didn't care.
Then I had kids.  And I am SO gonna make my M.A.S.H. badge as soon as I clear away all the crap from slapping valentines together. 

The Tyranny of the Heart isn't as bad at my kids' school, thank heavens.  IF you bring cards, you must bring them for all, and you aren't required to bring them at all.  No party.  No cupcakes.  About 1/3 of the valentines are homemade.  It's so hard to find them in stores w/o licensed characters on them.  What happened to the puns?  Where is "I choo-choo-choooose you!"  and "Bee Mine"?  I have a collection of vintage valentines (AhHA!  you cry, SEE, she harbors a secret love of the holiday!!  But no, I have a collection of vintage cards of all sorts. Even communion cards, which does not make me a closet Catholic) and they're corny enough to make you squirm, which redeems them somewhat.  My kids aren't really into the cards.  They printed some out on the computer.  Ben used Star WArs valentines from a SomethingAwful.com photoshopping contest.  I, um, had to disallow a few of them.  But they're really funny.  Julianna got some wizardy Hair-E PotR things.  Mostly, they just want to be sure I remember that I HAVE to buy them candy today.  They just want me to stop at the corner store and let them pick something out. The Valentines Day shake-down.

So perhaps you will spend your stupid holiday dressed in red, reeking of roses, eating cheap chocolate from CVS, but I shall watch my new dog try to mate with the rocking horse.  And what is more romantic than unrequited love?