Let’s get this right out there: I am voting FOR Obama.
I try to keep politics out of this blog. But it’s too important this time. (And I am so tired of keeping my mouth shut.)
While I might (and that is one very giant might) be willing to consider and discuss actual issues there is one issue that is paramount:
I get to, every woman gets to, decide what happens to her own body.
Not you. Not your religion. Not your politics.** If you don’t get that; you don’t get my vote.
If you don’t get that; I don’t trust your judgment on any other issue.
What’s the next number in this sequence?
Two points if you can get it without google.
p.s. The photo and the question have nothing to do with each other.
Here’s all the update I can think of with respect to Sam*
1. The Contest ends next week. (That means that Diane, Liz, Linda, Bekah and Barb have all ready lost.)
x He is really fun to watch romp in the woods. He has an awareness, self-awareness, that there’s a log or a ledge that he hasn’t been able to “do” (jump over or high enough) before. And he’ll wait for everyone to leave or give him space, then he’ll line up to attempt it. He ducks his head and stares at the obstacle. Then he flies through the air. When he gets it, he’ll give a little leap and a spin and looks at me (probably because I’m cheering for him) and then he takes off to romp again.**
xToday, he ran 8 miles (plus). He’ll be 6 months old tomorrow.
He’s learning to catch treats and he can almost get onto the bed by himself.
He squeaks when he yawns. He barks at the neighbors.
**When he misses, he’ll usually try one or two more times. Deliberately, lining himself up for his the trick, waiting for no interference. But after a few tries, I can see him get tired. He’ll pick himself up, give his body a shake, and go off to play some more. I am unable to catalog all the places/logs/ledges/gullies he thinks he should be capable of flying over/on. I just see it when he’s trying a new trick.
Another month is gone. (Wow. Really? It’s been a month?)
Sam is delightful. (No change there.)
Also he brings us out for fabulous morning walks:
Fall really is coming.
I’ve had a birthday and an anniversary and been to NYC.
I’ve missed you.
Summer is over.***
For some people, it’s the start of school (which should be in the fine New England tradition of after Labor Day. The August 20 start is just weird.)
For others, it is Labor Day itself which signifies the End of Summer.
I know I haven’t been posting much lately, so here’s a few pix to make up for lack of frequency.
*** Also, today is one year from the onset of my Month of Chaos. Here’s hoping I’m coming out of my recent funk.
p.s. Sam is almost 5 months old and he weighs 40 pounds.
There is no joy in Mudville – little Sammie has grown out
And Ned is sitting on the toilet hoping someone will turn on the bathroom faucet for him. There is no toilet paper because Ned has not yet out-grown festooning the house with it. (He’s almost 4 years old; I’m not holding my breath. Toilet Paper is in the middle drawer facing you when you sit where you would need it.)
As I was going through the photos for yesterday, I thought (to myself) “Wow, Lucky is really going to have to get his game on if a wee 14 week old puppy can get Sam dirtier than a full grown year-old yellow lab.”
And Sam and Lucky went for their normal
walk romp in the woods.
I’m pretty sure Lucky is laughing at me.
Or empty the dishwasher. (Tough Choice!)
(A note on the contest:
a) not many entries, your chances of winning are good
b) I’m separating the pools – one for people who only see Sam on line and one for the
cheaters who see him in real life and are waiting to guess.
c) wrt Mom: I asked why she hadn’t guessed. She said it wasn’t fair; she could have a hat any time she asked. She’s right. Mom, if she guesses, will get a special prize.
d) I’ve no idea what that will be. Onward …
Sam has a new friend; her name is Geisha. Geisha is week younger than Sam and she will be an assistance dog* when she grows up.
This is Sam and Geisha’s first play date:
Geisha can’t go to work with her trainer-human till she’s 5 mo old, so she’s hanging out with Sam for a bit.
And they sleep. But I don’t have pictures of that. I’m exhausted too.
*I neglected to check anonymity issues with the human so this is all I can tell you at the moment.
I have a long-standing history here:
My mom tells stories of her childhood: once in a while, on a hot summer day, she and her older brother would be sent, across the blueberry fields, to buy ice cream for the family. Every one would get one pint and they would call it “dinner”.
In turn, every once in a while, Mom would take us kids out for ice cream sundaes – and call it lunch.
Sometimes, when we were driving some distance, we’d stop for ice cream on the way. My dad would get a dish of vanilla for the dog. (That’s, like, well before the current era of specialized doggie ice cream cups in the grocery store.)
Fast forward a few years, when we try to eat healthier and not gain weight – I haven’t been to an ice cream place in … years. (Not too many years – I think I’ve gone out once a summer? Maybe every other summer. I try to be good in public although I’m not opposed to consuming an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food. Dude is, however, opposed to my consuming the entire pint.)
Lisa came to dinner last night and suggested going out for ice cream. Uh, sure. We don’t do this often/ever. It’ll be o.k.
Dude actually had to search for local ice cream places.
We found Rita’s.
And the nice person behind the counter asked if we’d like a Puppy Cone. I was startled – stunned even. Puppy Cone? Really? I may have heard of this – but Aurora was a diabetic and ice cream was certainly forbidden on her diet. Was Sam too young? Would this create a bad habit? What about his (puppy) teeth? Dude mostly waited for me to puzzle this out but he was all for it and said “yes”.
Before I knew it, I was handed a tiny cone topped with a giant swirl of vanilla ice cream. Absolutely adorable.
And Sam thought so too. (What’s not to like? It’s softer than ice cubes but still cold. Tastes yummy. Mom is holding the cone part. No one/dog is trying to get it away.)
I am still enchanted with how gently he licked the cone – taking his time but getting every last bit. I am surprised at my own reaction to how much fun this was – and will be. I don’t have to be as careful with this dog as the last two. I’m not sure what we’re going to try next.
(Tech note: I’m playing with photo galleries here. (If you click through really fast, you can see his tongue move.) I took so many pix because I was trying to click the button to make it a movie. And once I figure out how to trim the video down, I’ll post it too.)
/sigh slideshow no worky. Working on it…