This week’s 10 on
Tuesday Thursday topic is: 10 Everyday things that make you happy
(Carole is responsible for 10 on Tuesday topics. I think about giving up. On the other hand, it’s a Thursday in July and I’m really hating the weather, so it’s good for me to remember why I like summer.)
1. Sam (I almost made him items 1 through 10. But then I remembered that a) sometimes it’s his interactions with others that makes me happy and b) sometimes he does sleep, which does make me happy in itself (and besides, he’s cute when he sleeps). Sam just makes me happy, every day. (Except maybe right now, when he’s got the knitting ….I think we’ll go outside and water the plants…/#anotherpostbitesthedust)
2. Ned (I could almost leave him off. But he slept through
the two! three!! night(s), so he gets a pass. For today.) (He was sleeping, hugging the skein like a teddy bear. (Of course he woke when I came back with the camera.) But who can blame him for hugging yarn?)
3. Nickie (She has emerged from hiding and gone directly into playing chase with Sam. We think she was waiting for Ned to prove it was safe.)
Sunflowers Hibiscus Basil Tomatoes Butternut Squash Black-eyed Susans volunteers Gardening makes me happy
(I’m still working on getting a slide show to work. It shouldn’t be this hard. Just sayin’)
5. Yarn (I did think of posting 10 different pix of yarn. But that was almost as much cheating as using Sam. Or Gardening.)
6. Knitting (I still knit!)
Note on the center photo: I blame Purlewe for the colors.
7. Programmable Coffee Maker (and Dude who programs it)
8. Creeks for cooling off (otherwise we would not have found objects in the woods on this hothot day. (Taken yesterday; today is better.)
Well, no, there is no actual water in this photo. Sam was too engrossed with the ball to pose properly in the creek. The ball was washed down during a storm. I don’t know how it landed up there on the path – you know, other than another dog found it first, and left it for Sam to play with. Sam did leave it in the bushes – for another day.
9. Books (in all their various forms)
10. Taking Pictures
Even if the pix are so bad I won’t show them to you (and that is pretty bad. I put some awful pix up!) taking the pictures makes me happy.
11. Dude (He makes me happy all the time. This is the picture of him on my phone.)
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…
I count, as one of my Great and Defining Life Experiences, that moment in Iceland (10 years ago), when I had crawled up under the lip of a glacier. The day was freezing cold and it was snowing. It was November 2001. There was about 8ish hours of daylight – grey and cloudy.
I was in this dark cold space, with million year old water dripping on my head, and suddenly I understood on some visceral level what global warming meant: the space I was in was created by water runoff – runoff from the glacier drips. That huge ginormous chunk of ice was melting – despite the cold, despite the snow; it was continuing to shrink.
A few years later and I’d go to Antarctica. Something about these very cold, very old places gets to me. I can feel it now even as I type.
My entire reason for being in Iceland in 2001 was to check out the possibility of driving the Ring Road. (National Geographic Traveler had an article in 1994 that started this all. I’m still trying to locate it in hard copy.) Ten years later, Dude is making it happen.
Note the first: Plants and gardening couldn’t have arranged to be on a “normal” schedule this year? This two weeks early is killing me.
Note the second: I wavered for about a millisecond on the “what yarn to bring to Iceland” question. Franklin reminds me that there is yarn in grocery stores.
Note the third: We can also blame Clara. I think there’s still has room. (Don’t quote me on that.)
On a housekeeping note – I’m trying to figure out the posting from iPad and links to Facebook and Twitter. (Updates are slow due to that missing FIOS router which is arriving today.)
(Aside: I’ve been writing this post for almost a week (not that the writing is any good, mind you) and there are no relevant pix (wrong for stories, but tactically correct).)
The important thing to remember is that Ned was trying to be good. (I, on the other hand, was trying to be quick and efficient.) (And I was neither.)
Paint Story, Part 1:
I cleared out the master bedroom in order to paint the walls. Dude helped with the furniture and we left the large dresser in the middle of the room. The plan was to paint the walls, then remove the carpet – so the carpet was acting as the drop cloth.
I covered the large dresser with plastic, stirred the paint. I left the room to find a screwdriver to remove the switch plates and light covers. I returned. The cats were sniffing around, checking it all out. (Ou! Different!) I had the gallon of paint (open) in place and I was fitting the paint roller onto the roller thing.
As I’m working on the roller with my back to the paint, Ned comes around the dresser. There is no room for him to pass, except to hop over the can of paint.
Problem: Ned does not hop; Ned does not jump. Ned is a wuss. He’d rather we lift him up. When I put my hand on his chest to get ready to lift and he puts his little paws out like he is Superman taking off to fly.
Problem: I am unconcerned because he is being very careful and patient. I figure I’ll pick him up as soon as that roller is on the unit.
Out of the corner of m eye, I see Ned’s front feet clear the paint can. His solution to being stuck in the corner is to have sniffed and gauged and to gingerly step over the open paint can.
Problem: he failed to account for that cat pooch. (It’s called the Greater Omentum and all cats have it.) (And, you know, it’s an understandable mistake for an inexperienced feline brain.)
So … Ned is stepping over the (open) paint can and his pooch drags through the wet paint. His little brain says “eewwww” and he rounds his back to lift the pouch higher. His forward momentum causes this to drop his rear end into the paint can.
And then there was a thought bubble that appeared over his head and it was “YUCK! JUMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
So he dropped his back knees in preparation to spring – further dipping his rear end into the paint - and he hopped. A perfect kitty hop – with his tail acting as ballast and dropping down, dragging completely through the paint.
I was quick and I snagged him – under his shoulders – and called for Dude. Who stopped what he was doing, stood up, came around a corner and was faced with me, holding a squirming unhappy cat, covered in paint from his mid-section down to the tip of his tail. I couldn’t see the extent of the damage at this point, but Dude could – the paint side was facing him. To his credit, without hesitation, Dude took him from me (and held him at arms length.)
And he looked at me and said “now what?”
We dropped Ned in the shower. Dude’s brand-new jeans are now paint splattered. Damage to the room – trivial. Damage to Ned – feline dignity.
Paint Story: part 2
I, on the other hand, in a moment of efficiency (I was waiting for dinner to cook – I had 20 minutes) decided that I’d do some (final) touch up on the trim. (Because I’d picked up a new better smaller paintbrush for this chore.) So I open the quart of paint. A new full quart of paint. And I dip in my brush and I finish the door frame and lower trim. I did a little of upper trim. And I was down, off the step stool. On the floor (which, by the way is bare wood. I’ve all ready pulled out the carpet – so it is no longer a drop cloth. But all I’m doing is a wee bit of touch up. With a tiny brush. Very carefully. Very slowly.
And then I drop the full quart of white paint. All over the floor. A 15 foot long path, 4 feet wide. A spectacular arc of white paint, everywhere. And two cats in the room watching me.
I win: Anything Ned can do, I can do better. Anything Ned can do, I can do more.
And that is why I didn’t blog Thursday (Friday was because of robots).
(By the way, I was covered in paint. Jeans (dog jeans – I don’t really care how stained they are, my top (eh – I liked that top but not a great loss), my birkenstocks (oh sad), my socks (I don’t think these are recoverable). I got most of the fingernails cleaned at red lights yesterday. My toes still have white paint as I type.)
A rookie team, with a rookie coach, built a Lego robot to do
some a bunch of stuff, competed at a Division Qualifier (at John Hopkins Applied Physics Lab) and won a slot into
the State Championship.
Also known as: Ten Things You Have To Do Before (insert holiday here) This Weekend
You know, Carole is thinking about a menu and cooking. (That’s not even on my radar screen.)
I hate having my picture taken. Hate it.
It’s much better to be on the other side of the camera.
So sometimes a friend asks if I’ll take a picture of their dogs.
Sure. I like dogs. I like taking pictures. I like you – that’s kind of a ‘win’ all around.
And then I hope for a warm dry day.
This little girl comes out
Oh thank goodness for digital and a sunny day: I took 400 pix of that dog in motion.