Dog Bites Can

Yesterday morning I came home early from Copper with Piper the Dog. I had a riding lesson I did not want to miss. Laurence and the boys remained in the mountains to ski for a few more hours before returning for their piano lessons late in the afternoon.

I drove straight to the barn and parked. I did look around for horses before letting Piper out of the van but I did not look for the resident peacock. I turned to get her leash and heard the most god-awful racket. I turned and there was my dog barking and jumping in the air as the peacock, clucking away like you wouldn't believe, flew over her head to the roof of the barn. I couldn't believe how large a bird a peacock is with his wings extended. He came within inches of smacking Piper (deservedly) in the head with his claws. She didn't care. She was pretty impressed with herself. The bird continued complaining loudly for another fifteen minutes.

Needless to say, back in the van went the dog. After my lesson (which went well, thank you very much) I drove to lunch with a couple of other people. (If you must know we went to Subway, I had turkey on wheat.) I had driven my van and when I got back in there was a very odd smell. Piper was doing her best to look nonchalant which was a dead giveaway. I went to the back of the van and looked through the stuff I'd brought back from Copper. There it was, the half eaten can of dog food I'd packed under everything in the laundry basket (my favorite way to pack going back and forth from the mountains) so Piper wouldn't get it sitting right next to the basket. She did a pretty good job keeping everything in the basket tidy, if the smell and can hadn't been right there I wouldn't have realized her thievery.

Very little was left in the can and truly I was not too upset with her. I know her well enough to know what she is capable of and should have stowed the food better. What horrified me was the condition of the can. It had holes punctured in it everywhere. I grabbed Piper and immediately looked at her gums and in her mouth and her tongue. No cuts or blood anywhere. I could not believe it. She should have been shredded. She did not even attempt to eat the kibble in the zip-loc bag.

Someone seeing the can remarked, "Good thing it wasn't an arm." I was horrified all over again. It is unbelievable what damage a dog can do with their teeth.

I scolded Piper and told her how lucky she was not to be injured. She yawned and remained unrepentant.

Dance Recital

Sunday was the dance recital of my four-year-old goddaughter. This was her very first performance ever. Let me just say right away she was completely adorable. With her red-striped dress with a flared skirt and pill box hat (my husband said it reminded him of a cigarette-girl uniform) and her hair pulled back in a very curly pony tail she hardly needed her dimples to make you just look at her and say, "Isn't she just the cutest little thing ever!"

This was also my first exposure to dance recitals. (For all of you who cannot believe my friend dragged me to her daughter's dance recital, let me tell you, I volunteered. I volunteered despite the fact that I have been attending my own children's piano recitals for ten years. I had a good idea what I was in for.) The recital was staged at Denver University's Newman Center, a very nice place for a recital. Luckily, my friend got good seats for us a few rows back from the stage and in the center. If it weren't for the woman with the large head in front of me, it would have been perfect. (OK, I need to say this, the woman several seats over from me was a complete boor. The first dancers are on the stage, lovely pre-teen girls, smiling and balleting away and this woman stands halfway up and is wildly waving her arms at her husband who now has to squeeze past us and who knows how many other people, to get to his seat. Then, not one minute later, she does it again! I could not believe it, I don't even know who she was waving at the second time because I was so annoyed. And it is not like they didn't know where their seats were, it was printed on the tickets they needed to get into the performance. Jerks. I feel a little better now.)

The next performers were the two and three-year-old set. I'm not sure this age group should stage public performances. Not that they weren't cute and all, they were, but really, their arms barely reach over their heads and they were always a movement or two behind their teachers who helpfully stood to each side and also danced. This I found very useful and reminiscent of the sign-language interpreters used at public speeches. By watching the teachers and then the students you could see what it was they were trying to achieve. Watching these little ones, half of whom looked confused and one or two more about to cry, I couldn't help but think that perhaps waiting a year or two before putting them onstage might be the kind thing to do.

A few groups later the four-year-olds came on. My little goddaughter looked very happy and relaxed (as did most of this group, in stark contrast to the younger girls). She looked out at the audience and spotted her mother. Her face lit up and she stopped dancing and gave a big wave. Of course, all of us waved right back. She then returned her attention to her teacher/interpreter and danced. Quite well I'd say. Certainly better than most of the others. I'm pretty sure she has star potential.

Her group made a second appearance toward the end of the recital. They looked just as cute as before. In between were various types of dancing groups. Some of the children appeared in several dances, each requiring a different costume. I couldn't help but try to calculate how much money that added up to. Predictably all the dancers were girls except for two boys. The boys danced quite well. I realized that perhaps this was because they were the only boys. If you are going to stand out you really need to work hard to not embarrass yourself. Of particular note were the five teenage ballerinas. They were very graceful and serene. It was quite soothing to watch them. The show stopper came at the very end with the various age groups tapping away and enjoying themselves hugely. It made me want to take lessons immediately (which may have been the point.)

After the hour and a half (!) of dancing we met up with my goddaughter in the lobby. We took lots of pictures of her and gave her flowers and she seemed very happy. Only six months till her next recital.

My New Office

A week or two ago I decided that the playroom in the basement, which the boys no longer use, would make a great office for myself. My desk sat in an open space at the bottom of the stairs from the first floor. Also sharing the space is our second fridge and a tread mill (which really does get used, if sporadically.) Shelves and an armoir (in which I keep office stuff) contributed to the claustrophobia. Taking over the playroom would almost double my space.

My idea to put nothing in my new office that I did not want permanently (like the barn red old wood shelves) was quickly dashed for two reasons. The first was everything would not fit in my old office space and the second was I actually needed the shelf space and it wouldn't be until after New Years before I could even think of shopping for new stuff. So now began the giant puzzle of moving furniture from the toy room (an air hockey table, a different set of barn red shelving, various toys and games) to my space and vice versa. And of course, shelves and desks and cabinets cannot be moved with stuff in or on them. My basement looked like everything had exploded, paper and notebooks and dismantled air hockey table parts and books and toys and various semi completed projects everywhere. Mostly on the floor. (Remember, moving everything, so no available surface areas except the floor and the occasional chair.) Only the guest room and bath were spared and only because my sister and her children arrive the day after Christmas (Yay!) and would need them.

I have finally arrived at the point where I have most of the stuff I need in my office actually in my office. Everything else is in the space it will live in. Except the stuff I just remembered that is sitting outside the guest room. Oh, and a bookshelf with the small tv and dvd player. And another small cabinet that I can't decide about. And there might be some other stuff I threw in the storage room. I guess I'll be moving all that later today.

Anyway, when that part is done I feel Phase One will have been completed. Phase Two then begins. Phase Two means going through all the boxes of paper and things that I have stacked in their respective spaces. All the items on the floor (and occasional chair) I just threw into boxes and laundry baskets to sort out later. The bad news is I have a double digit number of boxes and baskets in my office, the good news is I only have to go through it one container at a time. I'm also expecting to get rid of a lot of stuff in Phase Two. (Some stuff has already gone to Goodwill and been thrown out, but that was just the screamingly obvious. Toys for the 5-9 year old crowd (boys are now 13 and 15), books I read and hated, old zoo magazines I was going to read.) Now I have to really look at everything. (If anyone has a good way to tackle this part of the project I'm open to ideas. The main idea is to keep the office functional while sorting through chaos. Leave a comment. Please!!) This phase could take anywhere from a few weeks to several years.

Phase Three will be more fun. The room needs painting due to lots of scuff marks on the walls and a few holes where some pictures hung. Then I have some pictures to get framed and hung and a dog bed (for Piper, of course) to get and a comfy chair for the corner, shelves to replace the red monstrosity and who knows what all. I'll see when I get there.

For those of you who would like to see pictures of this mess, you will be disappointed. I do have some pride.

Later.

Thanksgiving 2010

We traveled to my parents’ house in Rhode Island for Thanksgiving this year. We flew Southwest and had an extremely uneventful journey.

We picked up the boys at school on Tuesday and headed for the airport. It would have been close, but our flight was conveniently delayed about forty minutes and we had plenty of time to eat and get through security. Security (and I know you all are hoping for a story here) took about five minutes. Very few people in the line in late afternoon and they had extra workers. Walked right through. None of us were selected for the super special security and simply had to go through the regular machines. I did get a slight pat down due to my bulky sweater, but the woman could not have been more polite. My hair got a quick check, too. No drama, nothing. A bit of a let down after watching the news.

We made up most of our delay time in the air and landed in Boston only a few minutes behind. And let me say something to Southwest here. Ditch your boarding process. I like having an assigned seat, I don’t mind sitting with my family, who cares if your system is more efficient than anyone else’s (or maybe you just think it is, it did not seem a whole lot faster to me.) Points though for having a bit of leg room. I did have a center seat, but since I could move my legs it wasn’t too bad. (Also had a good seat mate. It turns out she had lived in Washington, DC a year or two ago and it was good to compare notes. Happily, my favorite restaurant, El Tamarindo, is still there and the salsa is just as good as ever.)

Actual Thanksgiving dinner was awesome, turkey was good, lots of gravy and stuffing, green bean casserole (yes, the kind made with cream of mushroom soup and those canned onion ring thingees, yum, yum) and much more. My brothers were there with their wives and kids (two each) so it was a nice size gathering.

To those who love a good fight, no drama. I pat myself on the back for this because, really, I had to exercise great restraint when it turned out that my first-grade niece, Katie, not only loves the dark turkey meat (I'm used to having it mostly to myself), but also thinks that banana cream pie is the best dessert ever. The fact that I did not pull rank and snag the last piece for myself instead of allowing her and Harrison (my traitorous son) to eat it speaks volumes. (I am not a dessert person and only like banana cream pie and chocolate pie (which my mother did not make) which just highlights more of my self-sacrificing nature.)

Our return trip was a touch less grueling because we drove back to Newton, MA and stayed overnight with Laurence's brother, Ed, and his family. The next day we flew out of Logan in the early afternoon (again no lines in security) and made it home on time. Our trusty dog, Piper, was delighted to see us and proceeded to whine and yip and tell us all about her time with Karen (our friend who housesits while we're away) and the Goldens (Karen's two golden retrievers, Naia and Finn.) It's good to be welcomed home.