(From 11/20/06)
This past week has been a progression of practical cul-de-sacs. Or one big Gordian Knot. I work on a project for an hour or so and then hit a dead end. So I turn around and try something else. After this happens a few too many times, I seek any kind of distraction to drag my weary mind away from the unfinishable task-at-hand. Everything I touch turns to mold.
Notices arrive in the mail warning me to straighten up affairs-- financial and logistical-- I've had no idea were so out of kilter: packages mailed and delivered by mistake, important phone calls recorded on my answering machine during the fifteen minutes I'd stepped out the door, and malfunctioning Web links causing my computer to crash.
Today every phone conversation suffered the intrusion of canine vocalise-- Maggie's polyphonic overtone-textured (sultry) bark predominated.
Geordie chose a shorter Fred Astaire-sized midrange tune, similar to the classic "Night and Day" which Cole Porter composed for the vocally limited actor for The Gay Divorcee, in case anyone who reads this gives a rip. . .
Only in retrospect can I think of this in terms of music. At the time, it reminded-- and not pleasantly-- of two toddlers vying with anyone who would usurp their mother's undivided attention. My only choice was to apologize to the caller and leave the room. The farther away from the kitchen the better.
My own kids never got away with what these canids do. Dogs are infinitely better at playing dumb than children. But then again, it's not as if I'm preparing Maggie and Geordie to live on their own either.
"Can't you train them not to do this?" asks Larry, irritated.
Apparently not. Certainly I have tried. By teaching Maggie, the more serious student of the two, to bark on cue, I have occasionally successfully commanded her to be quiet. The results are uneven.
For two weeks, I was able to silence Geordie by commanding him to bark. This really appealed to his rebellious streak. I would shout, "Speak" and mum was the word. Then, as was inevitable, he caught onto the ruse and reassumed his "evil ways."
I tried to do something novel: tidy up the house. Another cul-de-sac. And once I'm pretty deep into it, it's a Gordian Knot and I give up. Seems I cannot get past my chronic lack of organization, which prevents me from doing a profound cleaning of the house. (Why should I care anyway? It always finds a way to mess itself up again anyway.)
Saturday was Larry's birthday, and he received a cake from JaCiva's, Portland purveyors of ultra-rich confections and cakes. We share the evening and Indian food with some friends followed by the rich cake, the leftovers of which Larry polished off without delay.
Today, which is a Monday, Geordie-- I presume-- fished the chocolate-scented box out of the recycling bin to savor the bits or chocolate-- hardly enough for more than a lick. It ended up in the family room under the footrest that serves as his lair.
But the weather is perfect again and will no doubt cloud over, so off we go to our trail. Geordie easily clears a fallen log that stands eighteen inches high. Maggie tries and slips but persists, lands on the log and jumps off, exultant.
Limbered up, she succeeds on her first attempt as we return from that fork of the trail. She has been "Queen of the Cairn," having scaled a large granite rock, a mini-Everest jutting out and upward. More surefooted than ever!
Geordie, of course, is Air Geord-an again:
I know that tomorrow is bound to be overcast and that a perfunctory walk around the 'hood will end up on the docket.
Holy Terrier Dogs Cairn Wall Calendar
$19.99
Holy Terrier Dogs Wall Calendar
$19.99
This past week has been a progression of practical cul-de-sacs. Or one big Gordian Knot. I work on a project for an hour or so and then hit a dead end. So I turn around and try something else. After this happens a few too many times, I seek any kind of distraction to drag my weary mind away from the unfinishable task-at-hand. Everything I touch turns to mold.
Notices arrive in the mail warning me to straighten up affairs-- financial and logistical-- I've had no idea were so out of kilter: packages mailed and delivered by mistake, important phone calls recorded on my answering machine during the fifteen minutes I'd stepped out the door, and malfunctioning Web links causing my computer to crash.
Today every phone conversation suffered the intrusion of canine vocalise-- Maggie's polyphonic overtone-textured (sultry) bark predominated.
Geordie chose a shorter Fred Astaire-sized midrange tune, similar to the classic "Night and Day" which Cole Porter composed for the vocally limited actor for The Gay Divorcee, in case anyone who reads this gives a rip. . .
Only in retrospect can I think of this in terms of music. At the time, it reminded-- and not pleasantly-- of two toddlers vying with anyone who would usurp their mother's undivided attention. My only choice was to apologize to the caller and leave the room. The farther away from the kitchen the better.
My own kids never got away with what these canids do. Dogs are infinitely better at playing dumb than children. But then again, it's not as if I'm preparing Maggie and Geordie to live on their own either.
"Can't you train them not to do this?" asks Larry, irritated.
Apparently not. Certainly I have tried. By teaching Maggie, the more serious student of the two, to bark on cue, I have occasionally successfully commanded her to be quiet. The results are uneven.
For two weeks, I was able to silence Geordie by commanding him to bark. This really appealed to his rebellious streak. I would shout, "Speak" and mum was the word. Then, as was inevitable, he caught onto the ruse and reassumed his "evil ways."
I tried to do something novel: tidy up the house. Another cul-de-sac. And once I'm pretty deep into it, it's a Gordian Knot and I give up. Seems I cannot get past my chronic lack of organization, which prevents me from doing a profound cleaning of the house. (Why should I care anyway? It always finds a way to mess itself up again anyway.)
Saturday was Larry's birthday, and he received a cake from JaCiva's, Portland purveyors of ultra-rich confections and cakes. We share the evening and Indian food with some friends followed by the rich cake, the leftovers of which Larry polished off without delay.
Today, which is a Monday, Geordie-- I presume-- fished the chocolate-scented box out of the recycling bin to savor the bits or chocolate-- hardly enough for more than a lick. It ended up in the family room under the footrest that serves as his lair.
But the weather is perfect again and will no doubt cloud over, so off we go to our trail. Geordie easily clears a fallen log that stands eighteen inches high. Maggie tries and slips but persists, lands on the log and jumps off, exultant.
I wish I had brought my camera!
Limbered up, she succeeds on her first attempt as we return from that fork of the trail. She has been "Queen of the Cairn," having scaled a large granite rock, a mini-Everest jutting out and upward. More surefooted than ever!
Geordie, of course, is Air Geord-an again:
A group of boys played atop the steep side at the start of the sale. Geordie navigated his way to the pinnacle, but then it was time to go home.
Maggie jumped into the car first. She couldn't have done this nine months ago before she started taking Tahitian Noni Canine Essentials.
Maggie jumped into the car first. She couldn't have done this nine months ago before she started taking Tahitian Noni Canine Essentials.
Holy Terrier Dogs Cairn Wall Calendar
$19.99
Holy Terrier Dogs Wall Calendar
$19.99
and several other designs!
Until we next check in,
Jill, Mag, Geord
Until we next check in,
Jill, Mag, Geord
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