How to Create a Monster

Our Little Dog will be 10 in December of this year. She is smarter than we think.
Much smarter.
Much, much smarter.

We have always enjoyed letting her out when we go sit on the front porch. She enjoys lying in the yard, in the shade, watching the runners run by, the strollers stroll by, even the occasional dog.

Over the past year or two, when we are ready to go in, and we call her name, she does not come. We can call, "Come!" She doesn't come. She either continues to survey the scenery, or rolls her head back towards us and lazily gazes over as if it say, "Did you say something?"

I attributed it to her age. Felt she was getting a little ornery as she becomes an old woman.

So I bought treats.

Little did I know it was all her original plan.

Bacon Beggin' Treats. If she comes on the first call, she gets a treat.

Now she comes a-runnin'.

When we finish up a walk, she gets quite peppy as we walk up the front walk. Puts on her "treat face." Sometimes (ok, usually) I give in and give her a treat. But, just once a day.

Now, when we are inside, she LOOKS AT ME. ALL DAY LONG. Just -- LOOKS AT ME.

Yesterday, she began to give her signs for needing to go out, a bit more frequently.

Now our pattern is, and has been, one good walk in the morning. Quickie to tee-tee at noon. Medium walk at 4pm. Good walk between 7 and 9, depending on what we are watching on TV. Quickie to tee-tee before we go to bed.

Holy moly. Now she wants to walk at 8am. 9am. 10:30. Noon. She is getting addicted to these treats, and does not understand I will only give her ONE a DAY.

A friend asked me the perfect question: Who is training whom?

Hooray

DH comes home today: HOORAY. It has been a long 8 days without him.

One would think that our schedule/non-schedule of his working days, nights, off, days, nights, off... would prepare me for any absences. It does not. In fact, I am finding that the longer we have this ridiculous schedule, the harder it is on me, psychologically, mentally, and physically. I hear things. I hide things from the presupposed intruder. Every morning I have to un-hide them -- if I can find them. Pocketbook. iPod. Laptop. Cameras.

Every little sound, each little creak and pop in this 75 year old house jerks me to a sitting position in the bed as I listen, round-eyed, with my thumb poised over the "9" on the telephone. If LD clears her nasal passages, (dogs' way of ensuring they can catch a new smell), I am out of the bed on my bare feet, ready to fight or flee.

Sometimes, unable to go back to sleep, I gravitate to this luminous monster to play games of solitaire or write on The Book. I wrote a LOT this week.

I wake up in the morning exhausted and cranky.

Plus, I miss him. I miss his smile, his music, his asking how I am, his appreciation for any old thing I cook for him. His cuddling the cats. His working on my car, which is sometimes the only way he can tell me he loves me. The way he disappears to a remote TV when a race is on. His vehement retorts when some conservative makes predictably ridiculous assertions about the war, the economy, the Poor (they don't even GET that whole subject, but don't get me started.) His unfailing optimism. His unerring way of doing The Right Thing. His ability to see the Big Picture when some tiny mishap sets me off. I miss him.

I sent an email to my DMIL this morning with this line: I have never missed him so much. He can leave his drawers on the rug all week long for all I care; I won’t say a word.

He won't be happy at all that I have published his drawers for all the world to see. See? Isn't that sweet? Ah, I miss him.

Sorry Dave

Much as I love Dave Ramsey, I have to disagree with him here. He recently sent the following letter to those of us who subscribe to his emails.

The Math Doesn’t Work
Let’s say you currently drive a vehicle worth $10,000 that gets 15 miles/gallon. There’s this $25,000 hybrid you’re thinking about buying that gets 25 miles/gallon. That’s a $15,000 price difference just to get 10 more miles a gallon. If you drive 100 miles a week, that’s about a $10 difference a week.
So that would be about $40 extra you’re spending a month in gas if you stuck with the current car. A monthly car payment is MUCH more than that! To get your money back at current gas prices, it would take you almost 29 years to save $15,000 in gasoline!

Sorry, pal. I am hard pressed to find a hybrid that gets 25 mpg. The folks behind fueleconomy.gov recently recalculated mpg rates to account for cold starts, use of AC and other factors, to come up with more realistic mpg figure. The newer, REDUCED mpg rate for a 2007 Toyota Prius is 48 city, 45 hwy, average altogether, 46.

I drive a car worth $2,332 that gets 23 mpg in-town. An old, cranky diesel Mercedes Benz. I have 303,000 miles to date. And they say she has only used half her miles.

According to his own scheme, if I drive 100 miles a week, that's TWO gallons a week in a Prius. Of gasoline, not higher-priced diesel. I don't. I drive about 200 miles a week, so I would buy 4.5 gallons a week instead of almost 10. Bottom line, I would spend less than half what I do now, on fuel, rather than saving the paltry $10 a week he cites. Now, I fill up every 2.5 weeks and spend about $65. Multiply that out to make it a 3 week run, and it would $78. In a Prius, I would fill up every 3 weeks and spend $42, a savings of about $36. Annual savings = $504 (52 weeks / 3 week fillups = 14*$36 savings).

Of course Dave is right. I would save the equivalent of 1 1/2 car payments a year by switching to a hybrid -- *IF* saving money were my only motivator. IF our air were not a concern. IF I were not sickened by our gluttony and profligate use of a non-renewable resource.

You see, my own interpretation of the Bible (yes, you can do this. You don't have to listen to the preachers. Let God speak to your own heart. He does, if you will listen...) is that in Genesis, when God gave us "dominion over all the earth," it does not mean we are empowered to be the reckless consumers of all we want. It means we are trusted to be the wise and careful stewards of His gift to us. Today, we are not.

So...IF I were to buy a hybrid car, it wouldn't necessarily be only for economic reasons. It would be because I long to be a careful and responsible user of what has been so freely given to us.

BUT...I am not buying a new car. I don't need a car payment. I agree with his general theories on all that.

But, Dave, if you are laying out a scenario to make a point, please please use realistic figures to make the point. Hybrids don't get 25 miles a gallon. Do your homework first. Otherwise you might lose some of your audience.

There is an old Beatles' song that says,

"I once had a girl /or should I say/ she once had me..." (Norwegian Wood/The Bird Has Flown, Rubber Soul, 1965).

I think of this song often in regard to our pets.

"I once had a cat, or should I say, she once had me."

Evidence:

Back to Camp

LO and I had a lovely morning getting ready for her return to camp. Idle chatter revealed how woefully behind the times I really am. I don't mind, really; I should be behind the times. It's age-appropriate. I am at this unfortunate age where I learn a word that is in, and just as I'm getting used to saying it, it's out and I totally embarrass her. So I have dropped the whole effort. Now I just use words from the dictionary.

You, however, might not be a Nana, so here are a few words I learned:

sozzum. Use this term for anything that is very cool. Contraction for "that's so awesome." Awesome is out. Sozzum is in.

smarticle. LO heard this word and took it as her own. As in, "I'm so smarticle." She thinks this is a hoot, as anyone who thinks 'smarticle' is a word, isn't very smarticle at all.

Yah. This is the new 'yeah,' but it's used as a stamp of approval, not as a reply to a question. I say something with which you agree, you let out a "yah."

Shah. Closely related to 'yah.' Originally used as, 'sure.' Now it's 'shah.'

She gave me a hand pulling weeds -- not really weeds, but mint, out of the front garden. I keep just a bit for filler and aroma, but it tends to take over, so every week or so, we have a mint-pull. As we walked away, she said a flea had bitten her. "Fleas look so harmless. They are so tiny. You'd never imagine they are in for your blood. And mosquitoes. Wow. They are so graceful, so airy, they look like this harmless insect, like the ballerinas of the insect world, and they are just blood-thirsty creatures. You'd never know."

She keeps me smiling. . . um, most of the time.

Ooo La La

With LO safely esconced away at Music Camp, DH asked me to find a B&B nearby for a few days of relaxation.

We selected one only 2 blocks away from her camp, (though she never knew we were there), a grand home built in 1847 and thoroughly modernized inside.

Our room had a private, shaded deck and a huge bathroom with an Olympic-sized whirlpool tub and a shower with all sorts of jets and showerheads. Plenty of hot water. There was another guest the first night, but last night we had the run of the place.

A masseuse came yesterday and worked away all our tension. Other than the hard work of the massage, we mostly lazed away, chatted, read, took walks, and of course DH practiced his violin.

Yummy breakfasts were accompanied by the latest WSJ, hot off the presses -- divine.

Last night we walked to a small commerce area 4 or 5 blocks from the B&B and ate at a Thai restaurant. I had a great baked tofu covered with bean sprouts, baby corn, sugar snaps, and shiitake mushrooms. DH had glass noodles with shrimp. We enjoyed a leisurely stroll back "home" and I took a long, hot bath.

It was heaven.

We took just a few pics this morning at breakfast.

Music Camp

LO is away at Music Camp. She calls every morning to check in.
Today she called from breakfast at the Dining Hall. Yesterday she had loaned her phone charger to her roommate, so was unable to call me first thing. She got a gf to return to the dorm between classes so she could check in at about 10am.
I called her Monday night (very un-cool) as I was really missing her and wanted to know how things were going. She was in the dorm hall with many others. Music was playing loudly and girls were chattering away everywhere. She had to raise her voice to talk to me. I had to repeat everything I said to her; she could not hear the first time.
Lights-out is at 11:30. (Last year it was 10:30, but this year she is a big 8th grader.) I asked what time her first class is in the mornings. It's at 8am but breakfast is at 7 so she has to get up at 6:20. When I told DH about this and fretted about her getting tired, he broadly grinned and said, "She'll be fine. This is great."
There is an event every evening to gather all the students together. Monday night they had the faculty concert. Last night they had a movie. One of the nights they will have a dance. She thrives on this stuff.
The girl beside her in the flute section has the same birthday. They have pretty much hung out together so far this week.
She has 5 other friends on her hall. This morning when she called, she reported she was sitting at breakfast with 5 gf's and 1 boy.
I asked about the music. She said it is extremely hard. At first she did not think she would be able to play it, but is surprised at the progress she is making. "This is good," she mused. "When I get back to school, I will be a person who can play this hard music."
I am proud of her perspective.

Dinner Guests

Every night when we eat dinner, the whole family flocks to the table: LO, DH, myself, curly cat, Long-Haired cat, and Little Dog. The kitties gravitate to their bowls on the Pet Mat, and as we sample our fare, they crunch away. It is pretty comical. LD of course is under the table, waiting for any little morsel to fall her way.

She does not realize she is a vegetarian dog. On occasion we will collect the orts from our plates and scrape them into her bowl. She loves potatoes. She gobbles up the imitation meat. But the green beans, she lines up beside her bowl on the floor. This indicates, "I have TOLD you: I do not care for green beans."

But they are not guests; they are family. We find it hilarious that at dinner hour, our guests come every night. We do not see tiny watches strapped to their tiny feet, but they know it is time.

Shakespeare Had It Right

The Repubs make me laugh, but it is a bitter chortle. Their noise and pretense is so tiresome. Can't they see their Decider has failed? Could they not see what an idiot he is the first time he could not say the word, "nuclear" ? Or the second time? --Or the 110th? Hey, W, it's nook-lee-ar. Not noo-kyah-lar.
Pretense is a facade to cover a fear of inadequacy, and the Repubs have always had it, but now in megadoses. I have to confess if we lose this election, it will be our own faults. W has handed it to us on a silver platter.
My Honors English teacher in high school (had her every year) had us line up outside her office twice a week so we could come in individually and recite our memory passages. I never thought I would need them as an adult. Oddly enough, they have often come in handy. Here's one that applies today.
Shakespeare did not know McCain; he wasn't born til a year or two after the Bard passed away. But he knew of his bluster:

"It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

ROI

We did not have a basket outside with us, so we pulled out our shirttails and filled them up, like kangaroo pouches.

As we were coming up the back stairs, he said, "Nature's Bounty."