BlackPugKnits

Dear Online Dating Guys

2011-12-24T14:09:00.000-08:00

First -- one more picture of you posing with a gun and a dead animal, or kissing a fish, and I will go nuts. I'm not sure why so many of you do this; I'm in Idaho, so maybe that's it, and men in say, Seattle, don't do this. I'm also unclear what it shows, because it certainly doesn't show you're a good provider. A picture of you and a cart full of groceries in the Safeway parking lot is a bigger turn on. By the way, it's not just me, it's ALL OF US WOMEN! I bet even Sarah Palin would agree. It's just not a turn on.

Secondly -- what is it with the photos of you and some hot young thing? Is that your daughter? Ex wife? Or who? Tell her to put some clothes on! And if there's a group photo, could you please make it obvious which of the five overweight shirtless guys is you and your "athletic and toned" self? Appreciate it!

Thirdly -- Take down the picture of your motorcycle when you've sold it. I ride my own bike, and it's really disappointing to find that you don't actually ride. This goes for all of your other toys that fill your profile. And in general, what is posting a pictorial archive of all your toys saying? That you want someone to like you for your toys? Don't complain when that's what you get!

Fourth -- what is up with the scenic photos? NatGeo has a website I can look at any time for free! Put your smiling, hatless head shot in your profile, not the rain forest.

Fifth -- I realize the holidays are busy and there are commitments and family and plans and so forth. Don't get mad at me for not wanting to squeeze in a non-specific date with you during the holidays and add to the stress. And DO NOT profess to me that you wish I could come over so you could snuggle with me "late tonight" -- because what I just heard you say is, "You don't rate taking part in my plans, but hey I'd be happy to have you in bed tonight, but could you be gone before breakfast." Besides, one of you has known me for a number of years, and by now you should know the likelihood of me making a scene and passing out in the eggnog is ZERO.

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Skipping the Halloween post, Bugsy has acupuncture

2011-12-09T17:32:00.000-08:00

Bugsy had his first acupuncture treatment today. Let's step into the way back machine for this story, shall we?

Bugsy's a rescue. When I got him, most of his teeth were black, rotted and loose, so they had to be pulled. Life was good, and yes, he can eat -- everyone knows pugs don't chew their food. A friend of mine, who suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, started letting Bugsy lick her hands, which turned into him chewing on her fingers (he doesn't do thumbs for some reason). This was an effective warm, moist massage for her, relieving pain for a few days, and it became Bugsy's favorite game. Or obsession. Then she moved away. This game makes me nuts, because if he gets to chew someone's fingers, he stares at my hands for the rest of the day. Oddly, he really prefers to chew the fingers of people with RA. Apparently if you have Reynaud's Syndrome like I do, you're nothing to him.

So life went along with rescue pugs coming and going, and me heading to the gym and Chester getting in to trouble. Last New Year's Eve (technically New Year's Day), Bugsy had a little too much libation or something at the pug party I didn't know he attended, and he managed to fall out of bed at 3am and dislocate his hip. And pee all over himself, then when I righted him, he puked all over my dirty laundry. I managed to pop his hip back in and as soon as possible we went to the vet for a course of prednisone and crate rest for him, and a nice Merlot for me.

About a week ago, I noticed Bugsy was losing some of the action in his hind end. Specifically, it was hard for him to hike his leg, and his brain wouldn't accept the fact that he could pee with all four feet on the ground. Chester noticed at the same time I did, and immediately assumed dominance, which was interesting and sad, but so far he has been a benevolent ruler. I made an appointment with a veterinary acupuncturist, and another with Bugsy's vet.

We all donned sweaters and headed to the vet's office. Interestingly, my two don't stare at the exit door. They stare at the door the vet comes through. Even more interesting, Chester, who is deaf, was able to follow where the vet was, and at one point did face the exit door because the vet was in the hallway. Dr. Frank examined Bugsy and said again, prednisone and crate rest for a couple of week until Bugsy could get his acupuncture (the acupuncture vet is pretty busy!).

Today was the day, so there's a picture of Bugs with an acupuncture needle sticking out of his head. Notice there's no one in the picture holding him down or anything, which is pretty impressive, considering he had over a dozen needles stuck all down his back and legs like a furry hedgehog! In order to get him to hold still, like a fool I let him chew my fingers, and he's not pleased that I stopped to take a photo. The veterinarian was amazed at the muscle tone on my babies, as well as their stellar weights (Bugsy is 19.7 pounds, Chester is a little less).

Then again, Bugs tends to look nonplussed whenever I take his photo!

The vet said he'd be tired, but he seems to be his normal self (well, as normal as you can be when you're on prednisone and every second thought is "I'm hungry!"

Hey, Chester has his own presence on Facebook -- he is a "public figure." This is the first place that I post pictures of his antics: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chester/259589137395803

Komen 5K Is In The Books; You Should See What I Won / I Can't Make this Shit Up / Chester Runs Trails / Bonus Root Vegetable Photo

2011-09-30T14:25:00.000-07:00

OK, technically I didn't win anything. I didn't even do so well, because the previous day was my birthday and I stayed up way too late. Then, because I knew I had to get up for a race (the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5K), I couldn't sleep. I did achieve my goal, which was finish in under 45 minutes, no puking.

It feels good in your hand!

So, on my birthday, I went to the designated location to pick up my race number. There they also give you a goody bag with your t-shirt (if there is one, some races give finisher shirts at the end), your race number and timing chip, race info, advertising, and sometimes little items like a water bottle or what-have-you. My bag seemed a little weighty, so I pulled out a little box and was quite suprised at what I found in it! --->

Yee-haw! Now that's some kind of birthday present! At first glance, since my mind resides happily in the gutter, I really, honestly thought that it vibrated. But no, it's just a flashlight -- push the rubber nipple button at the top to turn it on (I discovered this later because the batteries weren't installed). Woo, light show!

The flashlight is brushed aluminum and weighted; as I told one friend, it feels good in your hand. And I will admit it that yes, I measured it about 2 seconds after I took it out of the box -- it's a full 6" of tee-riffic design that says, "Time Warner" on the side. That evening, I showed it to my running buddies and one of them handed it to a bartender and she asked him, "This is 10 inches, right?" He turned red and refused to answer. Sadly, no one else that I know got one of these, so happy birthday to me! However did they KNOW? (I still haven't found how to make it vibrate, they've hidden that switch really well). I'm going to keep this in my nightstand drawer!

Oh, my hungover friend and I finished the 5K in 30:53, no stopping, no puking: not bad for a pair of old sickos.

I Can NOT Make This Shit Up
Really, it's true. If I made it up, it wouldn't be nearly as hilarious. Following closely on the heels of my 5K (later that same day), I went out to a sports bar to watch Sunday football with my friends. After joking around about my flashlight, one of my friends left for the ladies room. On general anti-stereoptype principles, I don't go to the bathroom in pairs, but this time I thought, "You know, that's a good idea," so I got up and followed her.

Already ensconced in the stall next to mine was a Loud Talker going on and on about her new "invention" and how great it is, she'll sell millions of them, boulder-something blah, blah, blah. She was so loud I'm sure she could be heard to the front doors of the bar. I finished and came out of the stall and washed my hands and because I am Miss Friendly, and was dying to know the answer, I turned to her and said conversationally, "So JUST WHAT IS THE INVENTION?"

This overweight woman lifts up her shirt and flashes me. I realize with complete horror she's not wearing a bra, and I'm not holding beads that I could throw at her and then run. Then my friend comes out from her stall and she gets an eyeful.

The woman has two nylon straps about 3/4 wide (think dog collar) cinched around the base of her boobs! She whips one collar off, causing her breast to sag mightily and launches in to a loud sales pitch: "I've had three kids, and with these Boulder Holders (NOTE: or whatever she called them -- my mind blocked it out), it's like a really inexpensive boob job!" She refastens the other strap and pulls her top down: now one nipple is pointed like a torpedo straight at my eye while her other breast is aimed at points south, and she's noticeably horribly off-kilter. At least her shirt is on. Not for long! By now I'm thinking this woman must go to Sturgis annually, as she refastens her second boob collar and tells my friend all about how this is a "boob job for women who can't afford one" -- to which my friend responds, "I paid for my boob job!" and quickly hauls me out of the bathroom. Thank God for fast thinking friends!

Upon retelling this to everyone at our table, my male buddy says to me, "You should beat her to the patent office!" But I'm really unsure how the infomercial would look. And "Boulder Holder"? How about "Snuggie Two"?

Yes, this really happened. I have a witness (and I will now ALWAYS go to the bathroom in pairs). I can't make this shit up.

Chester's Trail Run
On Wednesday evenings, a group of people go run local trails. I am trying to slow my pace down, so I decided to bring Chester, who can run a 10-minute-mile to Bakery By the Lake. Well, apparently Chester is a townie. Mr. City Dog just wouldn't run. He did do a fast walk, but he was at the far end of his leash, behind me so it looked like I was dragging him. Maybe he thought I was taking him into the deep woods to chop off his head, but seriously, he hasn't made me angry with his antics in quite some time.

Angry Chester halfway there

At the halfway point, there was a lovely view of Hayden Lake, so I had Chester get up on a bench so I could take a picture. His body language says it all in the picture. He's "suffering" -- and he would not look at me, no matter what I did, so really, he was angry. But when we encountered other trail users, he turned on the Precious Moments/Mommy is Torturing Me face and I swear people thought I was some mean dog abuser. But he can RUN! Little faker!

Hoping to stave of retaliation, I let him sleep on the bed that night. And at around 3am I think he had a flashback because he uttered a single shrieking screech that woke me out of a sound REM sleep. And then I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got to hear him snore for the next four hours.

Bonus Root Vegetable photo:

And now, for your bonus photo, a picture of an actual carrot I grew. I think he has to pee.

It also happens to be the only carrot I grew. I don't think I'll be planting carrots next year.

The last of the Airlickers.

2011-09-30T11:47:00.000-07:00

I'm going nuts. Chester has invented the fifth elemental bending art, Airlicking, the kinetic ability to slurp the air mindlessly for no apparent reason (he even does this with a bone between his paws!). He may have learned this from the Sky Bison, I do not know. I suspect Ches is trying to drive me crazy with the constant "slorp, slorp, mm-hmm, slorp, slorp.... buurrrp, slorp," coming from behind me. And the stinker is deaf, so he can't hear himself!

How did we test Chester for deafness? One day in the kitchen, he was standing facing away from Bugsy and me. I reached into the treat bag and handed Bugsy a treat which he ate in lip-smacking pug fashion. Chester did not budge. The only conclusion possible is he didn't hear the transaction happening behind him.

Not for children, or faint-of-heart adults (graphic? photos)
Yeah, more online dating thrills have been had. Like the guy who keeps signing his messages to me, "Hef". Really? He wants me to think of him as a wrinkled old pervert? Apparently he does; when we met I had to actually say to him, "I'm sorry, I'm NOT going to have sex with you for the simple reason that we JUST MET!" I bet even old Hugh Hefner at least has to buy dinner and a Viagra before he gets a hot blonde in bed with him, and the guy I met certainly didn't have Hef's money.

However, I suspect the "nothing ventured nothing gained" attitude is pretty prevalent in online dating circles. For instance, I had another match who never seemed to want to meet for realsies. It turned out we go to the same gym, and one day after I worked out, I got a text, "Are you wearing a white baseball hat?" I happened to be wearing such a thing, and told him I was, and after that, THEN he wanted to meet in person. Apparently spandex will do that. I actually did agree to meet him, and he seemed OK. Then yesterday, I get this picture, which shot everything all to heck and made Hef look tame:

The only thing I could do was... talk to one of my guy friends. I love my guy friends, let me tell you! This sort of texting would not cross their minds. Or if it did, it would stay in their minds. My friend helped me compose this response: "Did you send that to me inadvertently, or was it meant for your Playgirl audition, in which case I am not impressed, as Playgirl is a fail." Additionally, he said I shouldn't text anything further -- let the guy stew in his stupidity.

Twenty minutes later I get an excuse -- "You can't really see anything!" Then I got an "I'm sorry if I offended you." This morning he wants to know if I want to go out to dinner tonight.

Um, no, actually, I don't any more. Maybe last week. (Besides, the temptation to say, "I'd like to eat at Dangerous Dog," our local hotdog/sausage establishment while bursting out laughing is just too high.)

Yeah, here's the somewhat graphic photo so that I can honestly tell guys, "Send me a picture of your privates and it ends up on the Internet." Grr.

Following close on the heels of that trauma is another picture from a guy who has already been pictured in this blog. I had told him to not send me full frontal pics, so he's "learned" and has a towel draped over his anatomy. But most important to me, is the fact that I can't see the toilet in the picture, so he learned THAT lesson! Or he's moved to a smaller bathroom.

Some more tales of the Chester: CDA Pugathlon

2011-08-13T18:56:00.000-07:00

Last month, we had the Coeur d'Alene Ironman here. Today, we had the Coeur d'Alene Triathlon. Both require a higher level of insanity than I actually have: I don't swim. This is different than "can't swim" and no amount of cajoling or conning me regarding wetsuits is going to make me swim. The pugs got in on the act with a 3-event 4-leg Pugathlon. For those of you that don't follow pug sports, today's Pugathlon was a Run/Eat/Run (home)/Nap event. Most pug "athlons" consist of locomotion, eating and sleeping events.

The Run:
1/2 mile to Bakery By the Lake.
We left the garage and turned onto 11th street, with Bugsy and Chester neck-and-neck. They were really pacing themselves well at a fast walk until we got two blocks in and then Chester eliminated himself. This actually isn't the same as being disqualified (or DQed to use lingo), but as their coach, I was chagrined at the early stop and at Bugsy's choice to continue! I thought it was bad strategy on his part, and I was right -- we went exactly 100 more feet and then down he went into his puggy squat.

After finding a trash bin en route, Chester took the lead with Bugsy overtaking him from time to time until we got near the public library. Chester turned on the gas like some Kenyan marathoner and started his push to the finish. Across the street we went at a good lope, then up the sidewalk, then back across the same street and down the sidewalk, with Bugsy trailing behind me as I cursed the shoes I was wearing (they were all wrong: minimalist AND slip on!). Chester skidded to a stop at the outdoor tables and flung himself into a chair, parked. Nice split time of 8 minutes! And he wasn't even winded!

The Eat:
Consume one Bakery By The Lake dog biscuit.
I went inside the bakery and purchased two dog biscuits (and picked up a chocolate ganache cake for a party). Since Chester won the first half of the run, he got his cookie first, then Bugsy got his. Of course Chester snatched the cookie out of my hand and immediately choked on it, making that embarassing "gak!" sound and spitting it out as other customers looked on in horror. Bugsy's strategy here was to chew his cookie, which worked pretty well for him, but was not enough to beat Chester's choke-and-swallow method. Chester won again and rudely stood around trying to get at Bugsy's crumbs. He was assessed a 5 second penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct. Even so, time to complete: gone in 60 seconds.

(Photo: This was taken outside Dangerous Dog, our new local hot dog and sausage emporium. That's part of Ironpug 2012, but it seemed to fit with this blog entry. Yes, the person they are looking at is holding an andouille sausage.)

The Run #2:
Back home.
Well, not a run, of course -- more of a drag. Too much sniffing the scenery, this leg took 12 minutes with the coach shouting inspiration in the form of, "Come ON you heathens! I have OTHER THINGS TO DO TODAY!". I won because I arrived first.

The Nap:
At the shop
After a ride on the scooter to work, Bugsy passed out on his side on the floor, with Chester cleverly taking the dog bed. Unfortunately, Ches kept getting up to greet customers. Greet customers? I mean flirt with the ladies. This leg was won easily in 2 hours by Bugsy, napper supreme.

Overall, Chester won Coeur d'Alene Pugathlon 2011. Bugsy put up a valiant effort, however he keeps forgetting he's competing in an event, which interferes with his success. At least he was a finisher!

Next time: A ride to work, and the latest place I found Chester.

Even more online dating tips for middle-aged guys!
Don't cajole the location of your date's house out of her, then show up unnanounced on your bicycle while she's out pruning the roses and waiting to go on a bike ride with another friend. And for future reference, WEAR A SHIRT! Or bring one with you, AND PUT IT ON. Exceptions can be made for Brad Pitt and Matthew McConaughey, but you're not either of them, now ARE YOU?

Chester: I can't take him anywhere. And even more online dating tips!

2011-06-24T10:14:00.000-07:00

I got to thinking the other day that since I only post when Chester has been bad, that perhaps people are thinking I'm setting these things up. I assure you I am not. If I was, believe me, I'd set Bugsy up as well for twice the stories! Right now we're in a lull after five days ago.

Recently I've been having problems with the handlebars on my brand new Cannondale. No one can seem to get them to be set straight, and after 2 trips to the place that sold me the bike, I vowed never to go there again. So it's been to a couple of other places, oddly enough the last one being my ex-husband's new sister-in-law. I asked her if that would be a problem and she said no, had her guy fix my bars for free, so I bought some swag there and so far all is good.

This bike problem necessitated the removal of the dog-crate-for-groceries from the car. And guess who was too forgetful and lazy to put it back it? Me! Until I went to Costco.

The space heater that Costco blasts at you constantly was out of stock, so I bought a block of cheddar and an 18-pack of eggs. I took my meager purchases (under $15!) out to the car and had to go back in the store. When I came back out, this scene of destruction greeted me:

Allow me to explain what you're looking at! A severely dented, yet unpierced block of Bannon medium cheddar is at left. It has jaw and teeth prints and claw marks all over it, and I assume it was Chester's first target. Failing to poke a hole in the cheese wrapper, he turned his attention to the styrofoam container of eggs.

And he ate four of them. He carefully spat out the styrofoam (it's been 5 days, take my word for it). The first two eggs were probably just the delicious insides, and the second pair went down shell and all after Bugsy took notice of the goings-on. Please note, Bugsy was not involved, based on the lack of an egg-faced grin.

For dessert, Chester had a salad. Grass, two pansies, a viola, seed pods from a muscari, and some rugosa rose petals. So yeah, now the grocery crate is back in the car.

More Useful Online Dating Tips for Middle-Aged Men: A Useful Compendium
Cutesy profile names are really annoying. Hotstud4U, SaveryMorsel (yeah, apparently there's a story in that name, but it's so annoying I don't want to get involved by asking), or "buffalo" anything. Even if you went to Colorado State. It's the first thing we see, usually above your picture.

Secondly, could you please comb your hair? And stop trying so hard to impersonate John Lennon! And what the heck is that thing on your chin? A spider web? Drool?

Thirdly: all that work you're doing pursuing us will go right out the window when we join you one evening and you proceed to get completely plastered and forget you're not that 20-something frat boy you once were. At 50+ years of age, a drunk man trying to be funny by harassing the waitress just... isn't. Neither is trying to toss popcorn down your friends' date's shirt, even if she started it. And you do realize that your male friend and his date are a couple of mooches, right? Every time we've been out with them, you pick up the tab. He's got a great job, he can pay for himself and his date! Grabbing the tab for another couple is generous once, but it screams "gullible" after that, especially when they're bragging about how many gin-and-tonics they've consumed out of your wallet.

Fourth: No. Just no. I imagine the first meeting with me looking around furtively, "Hi. Um, could you please put on this hat? Thanks." I realize this is your vocation, however you have to have some sort of disguise you put on for everyday living, right? RIGHT? Maybe you could include a picture of you in disguise in your profile! (I still want to meet Elvis' profile writer, because he didn't write it himself. I have a resume that needs a lot of work.)

More Online Dating Tips for Middle-Aged Men

2011-05-28T08:54:00.000-07:00

Just a quickie public service here, some more online dating tips for middle-aged guys. Next time, a really interesting Chester revelation, I just need some photos.

OK, online dating guys, when you select your username, perhaps put some thought into it and don't choose something like "HarleyRidinSOB" or "CaptainAragorn" or "TOADinCDA", even if "TOAD" stands for "Triumph Owners And Drivers" (and especially if it's a "group you used to belong to "but don't any more").

Secondly, how idiotic are you to have you with your arm around some woman as your main photo? Or ANY photo? Is that your ex-wife? Current girlfriend? Ex girlfriend? Woman next door? Heaven forbid it's your daughter -- you really let her be photographed dressed like... like... Lady Gaga! It says a lot about you, a lot that you don't want women you might date to think.

Thirdly, human beings universally look better when they are smiling. With one exception: those gag teeth. Especially if you're in Idaho, like I am -- I've seen people whose actual teeth look like that. So if you're not in full, obvious Halloween costume, leave that picture out. And actually, leave the Halloween costume picture out, it doesn't show your fun side, it shows you looking stupid.

Fourth: Leave off the "looking for a kind-hearted woman". Wow, do you guys all steal that from each other, or what? Every woman who is dating online thinks she's kind-hearted (even if she's not). I mean, what woman is going to read that and think, "Oh, that doesn't describe me, I'm a black hearted Grinch." DUH.

Fifth: The reason why you're not getting past the second date is because you refer to them as "meetings" and on meeting #1 you mention you live with your mother. In HER house. And of course you are looking for a woman just like her. Unfortunately, she was a WWII developing nation war bride who didn't even speak English (and who may not even now, I don't know), who put your father's shoes on for him every day of her life. Being an isolated "domestic" in the US was probably a lot better than her fate if she'd stayed in India, however, I don't think that subjugation was necessarily out of love, it was probably all she knew how to do! And hearing about it actually made me want to cry. Good luck finding a woman like that in this day and age. I'd suggest what they call a "mail order bride," except to me, that's borderline sexual slavery and 100% icky.

My tally so far:
Mr. Nudist
An Elvis impersonator (er "tribute artist") -- I didn't actually meet him, thank God.
A 35 year old who is proud of the fact his friends call him "a porn star"
Mr. Meeting
Mr. Sell this engagement ring on eBay for me, willya, oh and happy Valentine's Day today!
Mr. Talk sexual innuendo but act completely SHOCKED at a farewell peck on the cheek.
Gym Guy -- yes, you're interrupting my workout. Do you have no sense of smell? Go away.

Chester wants table service

2011-05-13T14:49:00.000-07:00

Mondays are my day off, and it was nice enough to take the pugs for a walk. They have learned to turn left (North) out of the front gate, which is the way to Bakery By the Lake. BBtL has dog biscuits, and giant Napoleons as big as a dinner plates. So, for grins I let Bugsy lead. Unfortunately, Bugsy only goes straight and gets sidetracked easily, and he got completely confused several blocks up. I let Chester take over.

Chester, who walks at a brisk pace of about 4mph, crossed the street, cut diagonally through an apartment parking lot (glancing at a pink plastic tricycle parked on the lawn), marched across another intersection and came to a bank of juniper shrubs: his sign to turn left. He did so and spotted a surveyer's stake in the corner of a yard. He gave a quick sniff and continued on. (NOTE: On leash! They're both on leash!) We walked several blocks to where the street jogs at a new highrise. Chester is a very visual dog, so he noticed the change from "old residential" to "modern" and started to run. He crossed the last street, went up a short flight of stairs, jogged across the patio and jumped in a chair. We'd arrived at Bakery By the Lake, and he was ready for his cookie! (Note: For you locals, the picture above was taken at Icon, but it amounts to the same thing)

A few years back, my town started allowing sidewalk seating. It's hugely popular, especially in the summer -- the people watching is prime. It seems that all the sidewalk restaurants have standardized to the same metal chairs and tables as Bakery By the Lake. It's now difficult for me to walk Chester, because he thinks if he gets in one of the chairs, I will walk through a door and return with a dog cookie. This is quite a spectacle, us walking 20 feet, the dog jumping on an empty chair, me pulling him off. When he sits there he looks for all the world like he's waiting for table service. Which, actually, is exactly what he's doing.

Who said pugs are untrainable?!

Bugsy realizes he is a dog, therefore no chairs for him. He politely sits at my feet, begging.

After BBtL, I wanted lunch. We walked a few more blocks to the main street and I found a place called Scratch that I've been wanting to try. Of course Chester ended up on the chair opposite me. He was a little disappointed when the cute waitress who brought water and petted him was replaced by a waiter. He was similarly chagrined when I wouldn't let him order. Instead, I ordered myself an elk burger with fries. And as you can see, he is not happy about it and is trying to give me the old stinkeye. He and Bugsy did get half a fry and a tiny little nibble of elk.
(By way of explanation, Chester sat there staring at me with disgust the entire time. He did not try to climb on the table, which was rather amazing)

Not Chester related: Online dating
I confess, I'm enrolled in an online dating site. This is because I'm in a women-oriented industry, plus I'm really busy. The stories I could tell would curl your hair (if it's already curly, the stories would give you dreadlocks). So far I've been "matched" with an Elvis impersonator, now called an "Elvis Tribute Artist," a Ph.D whom I found out is a nudist (something he would want me to share in: no thanks), a 35 year old who showed up at my work and wanted to be "friends with benefits" again no thanks. There was the guy that seemed promising until he burst into tears in the ski lodge bar, and proceeded to get so drunk I confiscated his keys... WAIT! That last guy should be a blog post by itself! It got worse.

My advice to anyone (male or female) engaging in online dating: Use Google. Or Bing or Yahoo or whatever -- do a search on the person's name, and if that doesn't turn up anything and you've gotten their real email address, search that. And women, especially, get to know your online court records database! Do you really want to get in a car with a guy who has a DUI? Or date a sex offender?

But I digress. The real advice I want to dispense is about men's profile pictures. Come on, guys -- first of all, it should be current, and secondly, please have a female review it. If she bursts out laughing, DO OVER. Thirdly, the bathroom self portrait is just icky. And the x-rated one is beyond belief -- women aren't admiring what you want us to be looking at, we're noticing that the seat is up on the toilet in the background. Dammit.

Mr. American Gothic there really makes me wonder: did he do that on purpose? I don't think so, because he changed his main profile picture to one that's equally bad, but is not a representation of famous artwork as far as I can tell. Yet, it's still scary to see Pyewacket draped around a man's neck (OK, so it's just a black cat, but you know what I mean). And what is that Mona Lisa smile about?

You do have to give him props for not wearing a hat in the photos, as so many guys without hair tend to do, probably because they like the look of shock on a woman's face when they show up in person. .

In fact, that's my next piece of advice, and it's for men and women: try to post pictures of how you actually look now. Or maybe a year ago. I know I was shocked when the Ph.D showed up and had a lot less hair than in his corporate mug shot (he walked in and I was looking past him, trying to see if my date was coming in the door behind him!).

This corporate mug shot at right is one of my matches from the first time I tried online dating. The picture he had back then must have been from in High School; I remember emailing him and commenting that he must have a picture of Dorian Gray in his attic. He replied that he he really looked as young as he did in his picture, but I never found out in person (and I immediately blocked him). This is a new (current?) picture and he says he's 55 but looks 45. Any believers out there? Send me all your money!

One of the things about me is that I do not have a poker face. So the look I end up with is of shock and astonishment, not awe. And if you're bald and only wear hats in your photos, it's a sign you're not comfortable with your own appearance, which is a fault, not a feature. And smiling in your picture improves it 100%, even if you think you smile like a dork (or the Mona Lisa, as the case may be).

And everyone: after your first contact, pop the other person an innocuous email so they can move on -- either, "I enjoyed meeting you but I didn't feel any chemistry. Good luck in your search" or "I enjoyed meeting you, we should get together again sometime soon" (which then requires followup called "an actual date"). Feel free to use my handy phrases, no attribution necessary. It's just a polite human being to human being thing. Polite is good, it's how we can all get along.

I know, I know...

2011-04-27T22:28:00.000-07:00

I've won the battle, but I know I'm going to lose the war. Just let me have my moment. Please.

Chester's hat arrived in the mail today! I got it from a gal on etsy, it was on clearance. I put it on him and Bugsy immediately sniffed him as if to say, "Did you know, you look like a DORK?" Bugsy, whom I never talk about because he's such a Good Dog, has really dodged a bullet on this one (he has lapses from time to time), because there is no way this hat is going to fit on his gigantic noggin. Did you know, his vet and I once had a moment of silence for Bugsy's mother? True story.

I feel that in some small way, I have had my revenge on Mr. Sour-Cream-Protein-Bar-Headphones-AntBait Eater. A tiny way. Chester just stood there with his tail down (I had to kind of get under him for this first shot because he wouldn't lift his head up to glare at me). He is one sad panda, for certain.

Ches stood there for quite a while, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. I let him stand there for about a minute or so until he started to take matters into his own paws -- he thought he could get that thing off. Come to think of it, any dog that can open the glove box in a Scion xB probably can remove a knitted hat from his own head. That may be some future research there.

Eventually (because I really wanted to post these pictures and go to bed), I took the hat off him. And Chester looked at me in such a way that I know, I know -- I am so doomed. He really gave me the stinkeye. I had my two minutes of fun and won this little battle, but I am really, really in for it. When I least expect it. As they said on Monty Python, "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Which about sums it up.

I think I need to inspect his crate latch for defects.

And on the 5th day, he rested

2011-04-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

OK, a friend of mine has suggested a dog crate for the car. FOR THE GROCERIES.

There's something else you should know about Chester: during the afternoon, around 3pm, he starts licking the air. Since I can't ask him why he does this, I theorize he's starting to look forward to dinner. But I don't know this for a fact, because sometimes he licks the air in the car on the way to work (maybe he's looking forward to going to work?) and sometimes he just does it for no reason I can discern.

The day after the glove box/protein bar thing, I was standing behind the counter at my shop. I heard Chester performing his neurotic air-licking, but then I heard crunching sounds. He had removed my iPod earbuds from my purse and was chewing on them WHILE I WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE!

Friday, he managed to fish out the homemade ant bait strip comprised of honey and Borax from under the refrigerator and licked that off (it was less than 1/2 teaspoon, so he was fine). But still! And how he got it boggles my mind, because I pushed it back under the fridge.

Now he's back to being pretty good; he wants his allowance back. This photo is from a hike we went on yesterday.

I Give Up. Again.

2011-04-11T21:37:00.000-07:00

EDITED TUESDAY TO ADD:
This morning before work, I got my hair cut. I cleverly put my lunch in a Rubbermaid snap-top container, and put my knitting bag and zipped closed purse in the back of the Scion. Again, I leashed Chester to the seat to NO AVAIL as this time he OPENED THE GLOVE COMPARTMENT and removed and ate my emergency protein bar.

I am thinking I have to revisit this, and perhaps put the food up front and leash Chester in the way-back of the car.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Original story from Monday:

OK, I have to bypass the burglary story for this one that happened today. Chester out-clevered me yet again. Pride goeth before a fall, and I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with a Chester "solution" that was an utter fail.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Lately, I've been purchasing navel oranges from Costco in the one-ton size. Well, I was out. And I was out of string cheese, which is another thing I get from Costco by the gross. Chester and Bugsy enjoy orange pieces. So I put the box of oranges and the bag of string cheese in the way back of the Scion. I took my emergency dog leash (a martingale show lead), tied it around the fastened front seat belt (it's fastened because if Chester and Bugsy are on the seat, the car beeps endlessly) and slipped the business end over Chester's head.

Next I went to the real grocery store and bought some frozen fish, a small plastic container of sour cream, and some crackers. I set the bags on the passenger side floor, assuming things would be fine because there was no permeable packaging, and of course Chester was chained to the seat. Reassured, in I went to Joann fabrics to buy a paintbrush. When Chester's in the car, I don't browse, I'm shopper on a mission. I had to wait while the little old lady in front of me at checkout tried to return a clearance item and the employee explained to her the fine print says clearance is another word for "not returnable".

When I got to the car... well... there was THIS. Actually worse, but you get the idea. Chester had the sour cream up on the seat and was licking for all he was worth. It was almost like he was having a lick seizure because he did not hear me start to scream cuss words at him. Neat-as-you-please, he'd removed the lid, punctured the plastic film, and peeled it back halfway. And his face was covered in the stuff.

Oh, and don't buy what he's selling in that picture -- Mr. Sad Doggie. NO WAY, I DON'T THINK SO.

I had to stop at the hardware store where I relayed my tale and then brought the culprit in. They all thought he was so cute, and tried to give him a cookie! Happily, the manager handed me a paper towel and I cleaned the cretin up. I reestablished everything in the back of the car and headed home. Before even an hour had passed, the gas was coming out of him in noxious clouds. Even Bugsy wondered about it and changed positions on the sofa. And it's still coming. I can hardly wait until tomorrow's "walkies".

Sigh. Despite Chester's efforts to train me, I doubt I will learn.

The Big Swim

2010-08-13T07:40:00.000-07:00

OK -- this is an old draft that I just found, so I'm publishing it. Additions are prefaced with ETA (Edited To Add)

The other evening, it was quite warm out, so I took the troops down to the lake for a little swim. As far as I'm concerned, they can spend the rest of their summer hot! This is the look I got from Chester. It is obvious what he is thinking: "If only I didn't have pug dentition, I'd kill you now. Instead, I bide my time." (ETA: Oh, my, and by virtue of the fact that this is an old post that I'm just now adding to, he DID bide his time.)

And the normally-sad-looking, yet perpetually happy Erwin, "Do dat again, and I keeeel you, beyotch!"

Bugsy expressed his displeasure by sticking his tongue out at me. And yes, for the rest of the summer, they did not go swimming.

I went and saw the movie "Inception" and saw a trailer for a movie coming out about the founders of Facebook, called "The Social Network." I am curious to see if a lot of people will want to go see such a film that, at the beginning might be interesting, but ends up with a lot of 1970's style excess. I'll pass on that one. Am I getting old? I'd really rather see "Tron," which comes out in December.

Thoughts on hypocrisy

It bothers me.

In the early 1990's, I had a long commute, so I listened to Dr. Laura. She seemed to have some common sense at the time, until she said something that bothered me. Dr. Laura went on a huge rant against Calvin Klein for his use of skinny, heroin chic looking, scantily clad young models in his ads. She was going to boycott Klein. At the time, I didn't really care, I just thought, "Hooray for doing what you believe in." Not two weeks later, she comes on the air and says she wore Calvin Klein pantyhose to some conference because.... that was the only company that made the color hose she liked!

Whoa Nelly! So she couldn't even stick to principle with something that simple! I mean, go to the conference without hose and when people ask, tell them why. Or wear a color that isn't exactly perfect, but is made by someone else!

But nope, she couldn't even do that. So I stopped listening to her, because what was she like with the big things.

Well, now I know I haven't missed anything! I saw the headlines about her today using the "n" word repeatedly in some interview. How someone in this day and age who claims to be intelligent can use that word when they know it's so offensive and loaded is beyond me. Especially someone who belongs to another minority group that doesn't like pejoratives applied to them! C'mon, Dr, Laura, use your big words! Right after you stop being a hypocrite.

Next up: A Burglar? Or Chester?

Chester The Pug Cow

2010-07-28T07:25:00.000-07:00

Chester is a cow. Well, more like a goat in that he eats anything, but the other day it was really amusing to turn and see three little pug-cows cropping grass on the slope in my back yard. Grass is delicious, as Chester has informed Erwin and Bugsy, especially the long stems, because that way, you don't have to bend so far or put your muzzle down and sniff the dirt below. Not that Chester minds dirt -- I've seen him eat that, too.

When we moved to the front yard, I got the camera. And yeah, that's Exasperated Me talking in the background.

Chester's Tiananmen Square

2010-05-12T14:36:00.000-07:00

I went on a little road trip with the pugs this weekend, to Seattle. While there, I took the fearsome foursome to the Marymoor Park Dog Training Area in Redmond. It's a grand name for a place that is actually a huge off-leash area; very few dogs are being trained there. Mine are well trained -- I am the woman commanding, "Pugs! Pugs! Ignore me completely! Good dogs!"

So the park consists of a 10 foot or so wide gravel path, and it was full of people and dogs taking in a lovely Sunday. Chester wasn't finding anything lovely about it, he would walk a ways and then hop as he held a front foot in the air, then walk, and hop with his other foot up -- the big baby and his sensitive toes! I could tell Chester would have rather been at a sidewalk cafe trying to bum a croissant from a blonde.

My attention turned to Erwin and Maddie who were on leash, until someone yelled, "Someone get that pug!"

I looked around to see the maintenance truck slowly making its way down the path towards Chester, who was staring it down. When a pug says "Make me a pancake," he means something entirely different than what is about to happen. I started pulling Erwin and Maddie towards Chester, who by now was holding a foot up again, but this time in a "stop!" gesture. In a way, it looked like that famous 1989 Tiananmen Square photo.

When Ches was certain the maintenance man had come to a full stop, he walked over to the passenger door to try to bum a ride. He even tapped on the door, but the humorless passenger was, well, humorless and simply glared. I picked Chester up, he grunted, and I apologized to the closed truck window. Everyone else just laughed.

The rest of the trip was uneventful except for the carrot incident. Another time.

Yoo, hoo! Attention potential love interests!

2010-02-27T11:04:00.000-08:00

The "I'll knit you some socks because I think you're hot" program has been summarily discontinued.

I can not knit you socks if you call me each night and want to talk for two hours. I really can't. When the heck do you think I knit? Yarn store owners don't get much knitting done on the job, really they don't. Just ask a few of them.

So, from now on, guys -- you only get socks if I consider you a true friend. That seems to work best for me. And trust me, you would rather be my great good friend than my boyfriend. I have three pugs for starters. And I play Death Soccer. And I push 135 pounds on the hip adduction machine at my gym. Scary stuff!

Another Maddie story

2010-02-02T20:53:00.000-08:00

Two days ago, I was wearing brown and wanted to wear a particular pair of brown shoes. I found one shoe and spent a good half hour clomping around the house in one shoe and one slipper as I fruitlessly searched for the mate.

As I was searching, I pondered one of life's mysteries: how in the heck can a woman, living alone in a 1700 square foot house MISPLACE A SHOE? I ended up vacuuming as I searched, thinking that doing a chore might hasten the finding, to no avail. The second shoe was nowhere.

Eventually I wore other lesser shoes and went about my day thinking the shoe was with the missing sock someplace in the 5th dimension.

Well, I found my shoe this evening.

Maddie had absconded with my shoe! At least now I know she's a shoe sneak, and it's a way better habit than the one my very first pug had. Beijing stole underpants and stockpiled them under the bed where he would chew on them at his leisure. Ah, pugs.

Good thing I decided to muck out the pug stalls! The shoe seems unharmed (as in "not chewed on"). Of course you should see the dollar bill she managed to get her little velvety muzzle on. I'm pretty sure I can take all the pieces to the bank and get a new one, but do I really want to explain?

The Regularly Scheduled Post has been Preempted

2010-01-29T16:43:00.001-08:00

I was going to post a tale about Wee Erwin, however it was preempted by this creature at left:

This is Madeline. Maddie for short, Mad Max more commonly. She's a puppy mill survivor/foster pug, and in this photo she's foaming at the mouth for the simple reason that she scrounged up Erwin's pill after he spat it out. It didn't taste so good, and me being evil and all, I had to photograph her.

Maddie is making up for her lost puppyhood by putting everything in her mouth. If someone adopts her from me, I promise to write their kids notes when she eats their homework, because I wouldn't put it past her.

In fact, Mad Max is Chester's protege. Those of you that know Chester from my previous posts are probably groaning. Yeah. Me too, which leads to today's tale.

Chester has been a proper brat of late, showing Erwin just how to marke the kitchen trash can. Chester, being a good 7 pounds bigger than Erwin, also has a bigger bladder, and I am considering buying a stock in Scott Towels, except that their stock will tank the day Chester dies, due to the lost demand for their product.

I'm tired of the smell of bleach, so today Chester and Erwin got to wear belly bands. For those of you that have well-behaved dogs, or no dogs at all, a belly band holds a sanitary napkin and fits around a boy dog's unmentionables like a little doggie diaper. Chester cringed when I put it on him this morning and ran upstairs to look up something on the computer (or check my friends' status on Facebook).

I left Chester, Erwin and Maddie penned in the kitchen and returned to find that Maddie had freed her bossman from his discomfort and engaged in a little paper shredding as well. "What? Me? No way did I do dat."

I really, really need to find a home for her. Soon.

In other news, I played pickup soccer at The Kroc Community Center last night. It was mostly young guys -- high school and up, but I was not the oldest person there. I was the oldest woman, but there were only 4-5 women total. I thought I'd be sore the next day from all the running, but apparently the strength training took care of that. Instead, I am completely wiped out and exhausted. And the dry air around here gave me a raging case of exercise-induced asthma. Yes, there really is such a thing. Ugh, double ugh. Even so, I did get asked to play on a league team, not because of my athletic prowess (heck, I have vertigo!), but because I'm a warm female body who is likely to show up at games. Roger that! LOL! I am so hoping I acclimate and don't end up with another coughing fit.

I did talk to one of the 19 year old kid at the desk and we were chatting about the Wii. Apparently I totally rock in snowball fight, because his best score is 6 less than mine. Score one for the old lady with purple hair!

Dating advice for middle aged men.

2010-01-24T11:21:00.000-08:00

First off, this isn't a pug story, but there is a pug bit at the end. This is, however, a true story and don't feel bad about laughing because in truth, after my ego shook off being "dumped" in record time, I laughed really hard. After having a male houseguest who had romantic intentions towards me (HEY NOW! I have a guest room, and my bedroom door has a lock!), I am doing this as a public service for you fellows out there.

Guys, if you are in your 40's and you plan to be dating, here are some things NOT TO DO, especially if you are interested in a strong woman. You can take my advice or leave it, but if you leave it, that woman and everyone she knows will think you are a complete, clueless dumbshit, and no one wants that: in your 40's you do not want to be burning these bridges; you need all the friends of the opposite sex you can get. (That last bit goes for everyone, really)

First of all, realize that strong women have their own lives and you should appreciate that they are making time for you because generally their lives are pretty full. By consenting to have you visit or date you, it doesn't mean they want to immediately marry you and have your children. Chill out!

1. Be aware that by age 40 if you've only lived with one woman for 4 years and your longest committed relationship is with your 10-year-old male Boston Terrier, you have raised a HUGE red flag. In this case, really pay attention to #2, #3 and #4.

2. Do not, under any circumstances, send the woman naked pictures of yourself! Control yourself! Especially if you are flexing in the picture, because you will always have to flex when you are around her. Besides, women know anyways. When a desire to send pix strikes you, take a cold shower instead unless you want that picture to be passed around and critiqued and laughed at by at least 30 people.

2a. If you have friended her via Facebook or other social networking, at least look through her posted pictures and her profile. If she has a blog, that picture you couldn't help sending may end up there.

3. When you actually get to the date, don't talk incessantly about yourself. You should at least know at the end that her dog's name is Chester and her motorcycle is a red Suzuki.

4. Don't talk about all your ex-girlfriends, and KEEP IT TO YOURSELF that at age 47, the youngest you will date is a 34 year old.

5. Don't tell stories about how when you were drunk and partying you did... whatever. That's all fine for back when you were a 20-something, but it's really unattractive at your age. Really... Unattractive.

6. If, because of your fear of commitment (which she already knows you have), you "kick her to the curb" within 24 hours, be MAN ENOUGH to look her in the eye while doing so. And when she says, "Could you at least look me in the eye, please" don't get all snippy. Even dumping by saying, "It's not you, it's me" while being completely transparent, is a little better because you are at least showing a little regard for another human being's ego.

6a. Believe me, if you have a list of what's "wrong" with her that you feel will help her "grow" as a person, she has a list of your flaws that's twice as long, and she's being really kind for not telling you, which means she is on a way higher level of personal growth than you ever will be. Just keep it to yourself, a little self control never hurt anyone. The self control thing should be your mantra.

7. When leaving after kicking her to the curb, DO NOT NOT NOT ask for a hug, and do not ask if you can call her sometime. That just screams "I am a clueless dumbshit!" See the part about self control and your new mantra.

8. Do not deliberately leave her a "gift" of one of your old, cologne-soaked t-shirts, unless there is a note attached that says, "I know you love gardening, and this is a great deer repellant."

8a. When she texts you with "Hey, you left one of your t-shirts behind, how can I get it back to you?" understand that she REALLY thinks you are a complete moron and is having a little fun trying to see just how stupid you actually are.

Trust me, the shirt was put out in the alley trash can as soon as she found it (um, in my case after photographing it). Do not confirm your stupidity with the following text-message reply: "That is for you."

For you pug fans, I did just think of something that I know will make you say, "I love that little Erwin, despite his yappy piddly neuroses!" During this guy's visit, I was upstairs getting out some guest towels when a pug fight broke out between Bugsy and Erwin. I came charging back down the stairs to find that the guy stuck his hand between two fighting dogs, yet another sign of moronism, and Erwin nailed him. YAY WEE!

Year 22

2009-12-15T12:14:00.000-08:00

Yes, 22 years of pug photos with Santa. Each year has been different, and fun in its own way (sometimes it was only fun years later). This year, Bugs stood and wagged and wagged his tail, while Chester was fascinated by Santa's beard. Erwin didn't have a clue, and was looking around the mall to see if there was someplace good to pee. Santa declared the pugs better than 99% of the kids he gets. Chester is looking like a majestic walrus there in front, and Erwin just looks SO serious.

Afterwards, the pugs had to be dragged off Santa's lap. I think they were in velour heaven, the little dudes, and Wee was snug as a pug in a rug there in Santa's armpit. As we walked back down the hall, a squeal came from Radio Shack, and it was the manager who insisted I bring them in. Bugsy got to chew on her fingers. Then, on the way home, we had a minor miracle: they all sat nicely in the back seat of the car. It was truly weird -- I think a first.

Holy smokes, it's been a while!

2009-11-25T07:12:00.000-08:00

I have been remiss. Largely because I like to post pictures, and my camera broke (I dropped it, bummer).

But this is too good to pass up! It's a Chester story. Sort of.

First of all, I have to explain I took in a foster girl who came from a local puppy mill. The "breeder" lives in a trailer and meets puppy buyers at her mother's nicer home, so no one is the wiser. This girl is a year old and was the product of an accidental breeding (although this "breeder" produces so many $800 puppies with congenital liver shunts, you'd think all her breedings were accidental, but I digress). Anyhow, Madeline is a 24 pound girl whose owners could no longer cope with her because she is afraid of everything.

The pug pack here has transformed her, and she is less afraid, but still afraid of people and of being picked up. So of course I pick her up ALL THE TIME. She has become quite dominant, and she picks on Erwin just like Sasha did. Poor little Napoleon.

So day Monday I put all the pugs in the kitchen and went off to do errands. When I came home, the baby gate was on the floor and Erwin was nowhere. When I found him (on the sofa), he had a "There's Something About Mary" hairdo. In the canine world, this means someone had been doing his hair with spit, and when I looked, sure enough, he had bite marks on his ear. Maddie had gone after him. Poor Erwin's ear was just oozing and he had a bump not unlike cauliflower ear. I cleaned him up and instilled some ear meds, but his ear was just oozing goo.

The next morning I called my vet. I love them -- they got me in right away, and sure enough, Erwin's ear is cut and infected. They had to shave part of his hair so his ear can dry out, so he has meds. On the way home, I managed to run over a small bit of road debris which made a heck of a thump, and when I got into town, I noticed that people outside would look at my car as I drove by. Not a good sign. Not at all. Especially since I had to be at work.

I pull up to the house and realize that sure enough, my back tire is getting flat, really fast. So I grab Wee, yelling "Come on! Hurry! I'm losing air!" Of course the more I panic, the more like a brick he becomes, but he's only 16 pounds of hilarity, so that was one brick I picked up and RAN into the house. Luckily, I had already put Maddie in the crate, so I left Erwin and Bugsy in the kitchen and started hollering for Chester.

Chester did not respond. I couldn't find him and time was a-wastin'. So I made the executive decision to drive on a flat the 5 miles to Les Schwab -- it was faster than putting the spare on. The entire way, I wondered where the heck Chester was, and resigned myself to probably using a whole roll of paper towels, a bottle of Tilex, doing laundry and vacuuming when I got home in the evening. That's usually how it is when Chester is loose.

Lucky for me, Les Schwab is a block from my shop, and I wasn't late. It took them about an hour to put on a new tire (the old tire wasn't fixable. When I do something, I do it all the way). A friend dropped in and offered to watch the store while I went and got my car. After she left, I felt really alone because Bugsy wasn't there, so I put the "back in a minute" sign on and drove home to get him. Bugsy was waiting and I'm sure if he'd had opposable thumbs, he would have been ready at the door.

I called Chester, but no joy -- I had this idea I could hear snoring coming from upstairs, but I was afraid to look, so Bugsy and I headed to work.

When I got home, I had to holler for Chester again and sure enough, he had been upstairs. Alone. In my office. All day. Oh, the humanity. I didn't go look. In fact, I didn't go look until the next morning, afraid of the Hurricane Katrina like destruction.

But there was no destruction. None at all. Not even a pee spot. Nothing. The wastebasket wasn't even tipped over! This is completely remarkable, and worth a blog post. Of course, do I entertain the thought that perhaps Chester is growing up now that he's 8 years old? NOT EVEN! But it is a momentous occasion, and I marked the calendar.

Cesar and Ilusion Millan Foundation Photo Contest

2009-09-14T15:02:00.001-07:00

If you can, please vote for Chester! The picture I entered is the big version of the profile pic, Chester sticking out his tongue. If only you knew Chester...

Cesar and Ilusion Millan Foundation Photo Contest

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That day always comes too soon

2009-08-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

Marley and Boomer after I first got her in 2001.

Marley was euthanized today and is with Boomer at the Rainbow bridge. Marley will be cremated and her ashes will join Boomer, who was her best pal for many years -- they were always the little old couple. I no longer have someone sassing me that it's time for dinner, or breakfast, or "I would like you to carry me back upstairs again" or "I went out. I may have peed, or I might not have. Either way I went out and came in so I would like a treat." My little old lady who loved to ride motorcycles, scooters, parties and dining out is gone, and there will never be another one like her. Ever. She was cool.

This photo was taken of Marley today. She was happy to be on my lap, but that was it. Whatever took her came on quickly. She had a pleasant day at the shop yesterday, eating treats and yapping, but then she threw up. At 3am she peed on the bed (because Chester had somehow shoved her out of her bed), and when I put her in the bathroom, she threw up more and kept trying to get between the toilet and the wall, pressing her head on the wall. This morning, she was uninterested in food. For those that don't know pugs, when a pug is uninterested in food, it's a medical emergency.

I took her to the vet and left her because they were super busy, and around 2pm, the vet called and said it could be liver failure, it could be a tumor, we could do blood tests and all that. We determined it was best to let her go instead of doing all that so we scheduled for 5pm. About 15 minutes later he called again said I should come right away because she was fading, so I went and held her on my lap while she went to sleep very peacefully. Chester sniffed her a few times, and actually seemed concerned. Then he decided it was more fun to sniff the vet, but he was quite subdued on the car ride home.

I miss her. She was just a constant in my life for 8 years. I knew she was old, and decrepit, and that this day would come, but it's still very hard for me. I likely will close House of Marley -- I don't have the time, nor the motivation any more. And just who the heck is going to moan me awake every morning at the crack of dawn?

Of rescued pugs: a Wee tale

2009-08-05T19:44:00.000-07:00

The nice thing about living up the street from a small public beach is that in the evenings, the neighbors all go down for a swim. Some even bring their dogs even though it's posted "no dogs" -- it's after hoursI decided to do The Walk with the pugs (per the Dog Whisperer), and by the time we'd gone the long way around the block, I figured they were pretty warm and perhaps willing to go in the water.

This was the first time I'd taken Erwin to the beach, and it was his first time seeing a person with some of those floaty "noodle" toys emerge from the water. She was a large woman, and I watched Wee tense up,

But he didn't bark. He didn't move. Just stood there like the man and watched. When she came closer and cooed at him, then let him stand there and lick her hand, he decided everything that comes out of the lake is WONDERFUL! She had come just to see him, and after we had chatted a bit and she turned to go back out, Erwin tried to follow.

Michael Phelps he is not. He's not even Erwin Phelps. He's just the Wee, who got a little nervous and got splashy which made him more frantic. Luckily another woman in water shoes waded out and assisted him by putting a hand under his belly. Then he thought he was Michael Phelps, but got DQ'd by me reeling him in on the leash.

The poor little dude had to be practically dragged away -- he wanted to play with his mermaid. Next summer.

Treadmilling

2009-07-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

I was able to teach THIS DOG to walk on a treadmill in under 5 minutes.

And yes, that is his front leg through his collar. Don't ask me how. Ask him.

Before I go brag about how I am The Pug Whisperer, I must tell the whole story. NOTE: No one was harmed, although I have some weird bruises.

The treadmill training was brought by Cesar Milan (The Dog Whisperer) in the vain hope that if I tire Chester out he won't wander around the yard eating turds, raspberries, grass clippings, etc. To Cesar's credit, he has a disclaimer to consult a professional, but I am a DIY kind of gal.

It took me about 15 minutes total to train Chester, Bugsy and Erwin to walk on the treadmill out in the garage. Not bad. I felt very pleased and Pug Whisperer-ish. It was a little hot out so I put Erwin back in the house and went out with Bugsy. Unfortunately, Chester shot out of the house too, thinking Bugsy shouldn't get all the treats, so the three of us went into the garage.

Then I got the bright idea to show the two doggies that their pack leader also walked on the treadmill. Why? Who knows -- they were already willing to walk on it. I suspect it was a large case of smugness and showing off for a canine (read: easily amused) audience. So as I'm walking on the treadmill, Bugsy jumps on and proceeds to walk next to me. "Well, this is remarkable," I think, "We're walking together! Cool!"

Malcontent Chester decided to nip at Bugsy. This is how he asserts dominance and is his idea of foreplay. It precedes dominance mounting, so I am watching him to see if it progresses. Clearly, Chester has no clue about the laws of physics or the laws of unintended consequences. On the other hand, I do, so I try to shoo him away. Obviously, Chester does not think I am his pack leader and blissfully ignores me.

The biting caused Bugsy to lose concentration momentarily so Chester made his move and suddenly there were THREE of us on a moving treadmill with me trying to shove Chester off. As I fell, Chester shot off the back of the machine, crashing butt first into a parked motorcycle, with Bugsy close behind and me right behind him yelling, "Bugsy! DOWN! DOWN!" in the hopes he will go under the motorcycle and not get crushed between me and the bike. At the same time, I'm trying to push Bugsy under the bike and flailing at the emergency stop cord but I couldn't grab it in time.

When Chester hit, he screeched (he is a big baby) but managed to wriggle out of the way. Bugsy was trying to climb out from between the bike and the end of the treadmill, but every time I tried to move off him, the treadmill would shove me back into the bike. I kept hoping Bugs was UNDER and not between me and the bike. All I could think of to do as the belt was scraping along my butt was to do an arch with my shoulders on the unmoving side rail of the treadmill, reach over and unplug the machine.

My ponytail is intact. My pants are intact. Chester is traumatized but OK, Bugsy is OK and has motorcycle chain wax in his fur. Erwin was exhausted, since he had finished treadmilling. Marley slept through it all.

Some days I have back pain so badly I can barely move. I wonder why that could be?

The next day, Chester was back on the treadmill. Bugsy, too. No mollycoddling here. And actually, he and Bugsy do the best on the thing (SEPARATELY!). And I always have that rip cord around my wrist as I straddle the pugs. No more walking together with Bugsy on the machine! On to teaching Marley how to treadmill.

I still aspire to be The Pug Whisperer, but to date I've only made it to Crazy Pug Lady of Coeur d'Alene.

The Fruit King

2009-07-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

It's sum, sum, summertime and I should have fruits a'plenty.

But I don't. I have to buy my fruit at the store like everyone else, because I have a Chester.

Chester, King of the Fruits, eats the strawberries as soon as they emerge. They're supposed to be everbearing, for which he is grateful. Me? I have no idea. Then Ches moved on to the green blueberries, so I got bupkis there, and now he's busy in the raspberries on a daily basis. He's such a heathen, he eats the green ones, and stands there with a thoughtful expression on his face, "Mmm, piquant."

So I have no fruit. He hasn't discovered the three cute bunches of Gewurtztraminer yet. Tiny little green beads so far. Since I've never so much as given him a grocery store grape (grapes are bad for dogs in a mighty big way), I'm hoping he doesn't really know what they are. Keep your fingers crossed.

Oh, and there would be pictures, but there's no fruit to take pictures OF.

When the Apprentice Surpasses the Master

2009-06-11T11:51:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, a woman who reads this blog came by my shop. She asked where Bugsy and Erwin were, and I said, "Oh, they're at home." She asked, "Loose in the house?" and I crowed, "Yes. Those two are totally good dogs, not like Chester at all."

Then I arrived home to this:

"This" is what happens when you brag about your "good" dogs. You arrive home to... something.

Before I get into the explanation of that bit of evidence, I must say: Chester has an alibi -- he was with me and Marley all day, five miles away at the shop. Nope, this was the doing of the Wee apprentice, Erwin, and his pal Bugsy who apparently took notes on Chester's parkour escapades around the house and decided to have one of their own. Bugsy is NOT blameless in all this, -- was in on it, too. Don't ask how I know.

Erwin, all 16 pounds of enthusiasm, managed (with Bugsy) to retrieve and eat almost an entire cantaloupe. Not a dinky little melon, either -- this baby was from Costco. Judging from how covered in cataloupe his face and paws were, I'm thinking Erwin was large and in charge on this one. But I don't know. Bugsy does know how to pop a tennis ball, and he did have some on his paws. He didn't look like he'd taken up residence inside the melon, like Wee did (as you can see by the photo there on the left). By weighing the leftover bit and a "sister" melon of similar size, I think they got about 3 pounds of fruit (rind and all).

The only things that I know for certain are that the floor was sticky and I had to mop it, and that Chester didn't do it (for once).

The vet said to expect diarrhea (after he stopped laughing) but luckily, it didn't happen. However, there may be canteloupes springing up in the back yard. Fertilized canteloupe, if you know what I mean. Just for grins, here are the two heathens as I attempted to get them to pose next to the sister melon. Wee wasn't buying what I was selling.

In other news of the ridiculous pugs that I call my own, Marley was outside and something bad happened to her. I was weeding and am only guilty of noting that she wasn't in distress, and SPRINTING in to the house to get the camera. Of course then I got the stink eye from her.

What happened is she was out doing her "dog stuff" which means she is sniffing around the yard. Besides sleeping and eating, sniffing around is one of her favorite activities.

When I looked up, she had her head stuck in the "bucket" and Chester was briskly trotting away.

Marley is a bit top heavy, so what I think happened was she was sniffing the bucket, and Chester decided to dominance mount her, knocking her in. Then he beat a hasty retreat. For her part, Marley just thought, "Who turned out the lights?" and started blundering around blindly while I raced for the camera. After that single picture was taken, I removed the bucket from her head (which she could have easily done herself with a shake or a paw, it was NOT stuck) and got the stink eye because she knew I took her picture. It's embarassing for an elderly, retired supermodel and official shop dog to be caught this way. Poor dear. After a treat, all was well.

Heavens, it has been a while!

2009-05-25T13:07:00.000-07:00

One guess as to who this is:

I know, I'm not keeping up. Chester has been up to no good, but then he's supremely the best dog ever, Bugsy is very very good, but has been bad, and Erwin is... Erwin. And Marley lives to go to the shop with me where she has attempted to train me, but I'm a slow learner. She walks into the kitchenette and expects a treat. She doesn't always get one, and it degenerates into the war of the wills, with her making a single "YARK!" every 2 minutes until either I cave in, or she forgets what she was talking about. We're running 50/50.

What I really wanted to post about

Rescuing a pug (or any dog, for that matter) is really fun because you get to discover things about them. Odd little behaviors, like the way Bugsy "kills" a tennis ball -- I have to put that on YouTube and I'll link it here. Or the way Chester's tail had been pulled by a little kid, so he's sensitive and one day chased his tail and caught it. Or how both of them will stand on the table at the cafe, humiliating me.

So the other day I made a discovery about Wee Erwin. It makes me doubt his claim that he is actually a pug. Either that or he's a really good pug in that he's a supreme hedonist. You see, Erwin likes a little foot massage. Seriously. He likes you to handle and gently massage his feet, and it will put him to sleep. I have a witness. I would try to video that, however I'm fairly sure it won't work. Or Wee will prove me wrong. Who knows.

When I mow the lawn, Erwin follows me around to make sure I'm OK. The other pugs just hang out, so only Wee gets greenfeet. It's hysterical.

Parkour Chester

2009-04-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

It's a long story.

It started out with a missing knitting needle point protector -- those rubber doo-dads you put on your knitting needle points to keep the stitches from slipping off during transport. Well, I found the point protector. In the yard. I have photos (people are clamoring for them).

I know to whom it belongs, and they will NOT be getting it back.

The good news is, it means Chester has digestive motility. But for how long?

I left the boy pugs home today for 5 hours. Belly bands were placed on Chester and Wee Erwin . Unfortunately, as I was at work, I recalled that I hadn't properly barricaded the chair at the dining room table. Sure enough, when I got home, Chester the Traceur had performed some sort of Parkour event that included removing all my knitting needles from the tall latte mug they were in atop a low bookcase without disturbing the mug. He managed to get on top of EVERYTHING in the living room. I can see right now how he envisioned his path -- I wish I'd had the Webcam on. There was one loss: an African violet was uprooted and flung on the floor.

Oh, and there was poo consumption. Not just ANY poo consumption, though, as in he didn't just produce or find a turd. Nope, he got at my jacket, that had the forgotten ziplock bag of poo in the pocket. The jacket was hanging on a coat rack, and I would have paid good money to see how that was done.

On to a nicer subject (and a nicer dog!)
I am quite glad I kept the Bugs. He is such a nice boy. He has his moments, because after all he is a dog, but 99 and 44/100ths of the time, he's a darling. The other day he had The Best Day Ever. We got up, had breakfast, then home for a brief nap while I worked on the computer. Then we hiked on the nature trail and went down to the lake where Bugs ambled in and stuck his head under water and came up with a rock. Wee got brave and got his toes wet, but Chester stayed back on dry land giving the "are you nuts?" look to the rest of us.

Back home we went, and then I took Bugsy with me to do errands. He got nicely blow-dried in the milk crate on the back of my scooter. Bugsy truly loves riding the scooter. I know this because, well, he showed me earlier this spring when I was trying to start the darn thing. He jumped up, sat on the seat and, um, was excited. In a boy sort of way.

During our ride, I stopped at Bella Rose for lunch, and Bugsy saved the outdoor table for us and was rewarded with a couple of Tim's potato chips (I don't like 'em) while I had a sandwich. Then it was back to the shop where he had a brief nap, then home for another walk and some dinner. Then TV time with mom because it wasn't Dog Whisperer night. On DW night (Friday), they all have to stay in their dog beds while I fantasize about actually being their pack leader. Marley laughs at me.

Sasha
She was adopted by a veterinarian in Seattle, who used to be my neighbor here. He'd had pugs. When they came to get Sash, I showed him Chester's dried-out hairball. He was mightily impressed.

Oddly, even though Sasha wasn't a bad dog or a running amok dog or anything, the dynamic (as DW would say, the energy) has changed around here and things are much more peaceful and relaxed. Well, as much as they can be with a Parkour dog who eats poop. Thank God he's not a licker. I like the low energy bunch.

Sewer saga
Runaround. Builder blames excavator. So I have no reimbursement of my $5500 I spent to have it fixed, and now I have a $450 lawyer bill because the builder wouldn't return my calls. That can be taken care of through small claims court, but not the big one as the limit is $5000.

Love life
I was pictured in the Spokane paper (the Spokesman Review) on April 12 in an article about my shop. So I decided to email the link to the guy in Florida. The guy in Florida? He was my boyfriend 26 years ago, and a while back, he contacted my mother (yikes), who gave him my sister's phone number, and my sister passed HIS number on to me. So I called him. And we talk now and then. But he's in Florida and I'm in Idaho and I have several pugs, including one Chester, plus a giant yarn-and-fiber explosion, so it's best that I not live with another human being. Not that we were having phone sex or anything but every time I talk to the guy I have stupid happy daydreams that annoy me -- he sent me a picture and he's plenty cute.

Someone I know once said the ideal living situation would be a duplex. You have your half and he has his half, and when you're sick of each other, you just "go home". I kind of like that idea.

Tomorrow, Chester gets the crate.

For the love of PETE!

2009-03-11T18:46:00.000-07:00

So I'm pondering the state of affairs that is my sewer. Well not so much the sewer, as it was fixed, but the fact that I'm out a large pile of money that was supposed to go to other stuff. The builder's insurance sloughed responsibility to the backhoe guy, and his insurance which is supposedly Maryland somethingorother.

The other day, I tried to run that down and got noplace. So today, I got the bright idea of looking the guy up on the Web. There's a site called Mantra or something that has business information and there was the address for Kus Co Backhoe. I put it in Google Maps, and lo and behold, there's an actual view of the guy's decrepit garage, and a SIDE VIEW which shows a sign "Excavating, call 555-1212" and a backhoe sitting in the weeds. I decide to look the guy up on the Idaho Department of Occupational Licensing web site, and discover

HIS IDAHO LICENSE EXPIRED JANUARY 2007!

He was not a duly licensed excavator/backhoe operator when he dug the holes for my foundation and creamed the sewer line without mentioning it! FOR THE LOVE OF PETE! Insurance? I bet there isn't any.

Tomorrow, I am going to call the builder's insurance adjuster and tell her this and offer to settle for $500 more than I paid the plumbers, and I will say that will cover the cost of cleanup and fixing my irrigation and patio. Should be interesting.

In the meantime, Sasha was placed and returned. I violated my one simple rule -- never place a pug out-of-area. They were out of area, but had a rescued pug and the other rescue loved them. I checked. After a couple-hour road trip to Montana, apparently Sasha was "too hyper" and the husband needed quiet because he worked from home, so they brought her back. She dominance-mounted their pug, which alarmed them, even though the description of Sasha says that 1. she's young and 2. she wants to be dominant. I don't know what they thought all that meant. And who doesn't want to run amok after a road trip, for heaven's sake?

So Sasha came back. Bugsy was happy, as was Chester. She's their cuddle buddy. She's so very hyper she's lying in a dog bed staring at me across the room. Pretty hyper. She did the pug run yesterday, but I was chasing her around.

The more I know people, the better I like the pugs, even Admiral Barky Erwin.

This Can't Be Good, & The Saga Continues

2009-02-19T08:53:00.000-08:00

First, the Story of Mr. Bad Dog Chester

I changed the routine tonight and after I went to work, I came home, fed the pugs, then went to knit with a bunch of women for an entire hour-and-a-half.

Stupid me, I should have CRATED Chester, but no, I just put a belly band on him like I always do when I'm going out for a little bit: Friday morning coffee with friends, grocery shopping on Saturday, etc. There hasn't been a problem (after I gated off the stairs and made sure my bedroom door was shut).

I came home to a Crappapalooza. It was everywhere. From everyone's butt. All FIVE OF THEM. My first thought was, "Hey, Chester didn't eat any of these turds, what a good dog!"
Well, I soon discovered why he didn't eat any turds. He was already full. He looks like Octo-mom when she was pregnant. Chester got the lid off the dog food bin, even though it was secured (hah) by a bungee cord. The bin was tipped over, but there was still a little food in the bottom. Sasha's got a belly full, Bugsy got into the act and is slinking around like he was a bad dog looking fondly at toilets as though he could drink from them, Wee is acting self righteous and doesn't look very bloated, Marley is acting confused and the water dish is completely empty (and will stay that way because I'm not going to have a pug explode in the middle of the night).

Oh, did I mention that at some point during the baccanal Chester and Wee had a piddling contest? Yeah, the pads in the belly bands were sopping wet.

Everyone is sleeping in crates tonight. And I keep telling myself: It might be funny tomorrow. It might be funny tomorrow. It might be funny tomorrow.

It's Tomorrow and it's still not funny, but it is becoming vaguely amusing.

Pugs are stubborn. And cute. So people think this means they are stupid, which is not true. They make all kinds of connections that you wouldn't think about. The connections mine are making are that they are thirsty and there is water in the house. Shasha bashed her way in to the shower to see if there was any water on the shower floor. Bugsy keeps standing on his hind legs gazing longingly into the toilets ("If only I could reach! If only!"). Chester licks the water dribbles from the other pugs, and all three of them just STARE at me when I get a drink of water.

Speaking of Sewage (the second saga)

The builder has apparently turned the matter over to his insurance, saying his excavator must have dug it up, but then not taking responsibility for checking (even though he new they were excavating near the sewer). His excuse? The sewer pipes are so old that the excavator hit it and dug it up without even knowing it, and then the sandy soil backfilled so they didn't see a problem. I'm not totally buying it, given the length that was missing.

I course then the builder starts stringing me along about the insurance. Last week he said was supposed to speak with the adjuster Tuesday (2 days ago). Well, yesterday he says, "Oh, you haven't heard from the adjuster?" Then he starts getting pissy -- "I'm not going to ride their ass." Great. Today he's "nice" again and says he called the agent who is going to call the underwriter (which is the same line he gave me a week ago).

Normally, being the wimp that I am, I would have bought all this BS and held off on sending in a complaint to the Idaho Department of Occupational Licenses. Actually, I did hold off on sending it months ago, but it was procrastination because I had no idea where to even begin. That actually turned out to be a good thing, because I added the whole sewer chronology to the saga, and sent the complaint off on Valentine's Day. Heh. Love ya! I hope your license gets yanked! I even quoted some nitpicky bits of Idaho code that he's clearly violating.

I Met With an Attorney

2009-02-02T20:02:00.000-08:00

And I just don't have a prayer of getting my money back.
The builder is claiming he hooked in to existing pipe and had no way of knowing there was a section missing. Which to me is BS because when they excavated for the new foundation, they had to expose all that. The lawyer says that if the person digging for the foundation didn't say, "Hey, I dug up some pipe here" to the builder, the builder is off the hook.

Great, huh?

But I did make a complaint with the Idaho Department of Occupational Licenses. It seems that builderman is in violation of a couple of things in the Idaho code: not responding within the specified time frame to my certified letter asking him to complete the work, and not including his license number in his advertising, contracts, letterhead and business cards. So I made sure to point those things out in my complaint.

I swear, if I didn't have bad karma, I would have NO KARMA AT ALL. With the temps now rising above freezing, my back yard is starting to smell. That's another thrill the universe decided to throw at me.

Sewage Update

2009-01-22T18:12:00.000-08:00

So, the plumbers came back the following day. And after telling me dire things like "we will need to destroy your garage to dig down 14 feet and cap off the old sewer connection which is directly under the building" and so forth, we settled on them bringing in a Kubota to dig up my yard until they found the other end of the pipe.

Which they did. The driver of the diggy-thingy was a master! But when he made one too-big plops splattering brown, um, "mud", I fled to the shop with the five pugs. A few hours later they called and had cleaned out the pipe and hooked me up.

The insurance adjuster came out several days later, but all he saw was Kubota tracks and dirt. I faxed him the bills, which, happily, were "only" around $5500.00. I say happily because they were at $10,500 and going up. And my lawyer has sent a nasty letter to the builder, who finally emailed me back saying he wanted $10,000 before he would do any warranty work on my house! Ha! I just had to laugh at that. As IF.

It is with great sadness

And not a lot of suprise: my homeowners won't cover the loss. I got the letter yesterday. However, it includes the sentence the "loss involves improper installation of waste to sewer line." So that will help against the builder. I actually got ahold of him and he is trying to blame the plumber and the city. Whatever. He was the general. Wee here gives the builder the stinkeye for me.

Meanwhile, I have some Chester stories. Unfortunately, I was not able to get video, but I will keep trying. He has figured out how to get the lid off the dog food container (the large one). Last night, as I was a mere 4 feet away, he put on his invisibility cloak and put his mouth on the bottom corner of the bin's lid. Then he pried it up and knocked it off, and then stood on his hind legs (who thought his trick, "Twirl, ballerina, twirl!" was a good thing to teach him?) and tipped the bin over. The bin is nearly empty; when full, he can't tip it. Of course when it fell over, I grabbed it and yelled, "De-NIED!" and put it all back together. He was shocked that his invisibility cloak didn't seem to work. Later, he gave two halfhearted attempts to knock it over again, but you could tell his heart wasn't in his work. Here he is that evening he was so cold. He's in my sweater and you can see the top of his bean peeking out.

Today, Chester decided he didn't want to come to the shop. I knew what he was thinking: 1. it's too cold to go to the car and 2. I can wreak havoc in the house and 3. that includes that dog food bin that's now full!

So I put a belly band on him in case he pees, and put the bungee cord on the dog food bin. He did not get put in "dog jail" with Wee and Sasha, though. They love dog jail. In the morning, I say, "It's time for dog jail!" and they run into the laundry room. Something about a heated floor, I think...

Marley is quite incontinent these days. She has to potty at least every three hours, and often she will pee while asleep. So she sleeps with towels, doggie pants, whatever, and I do a lot of laundry and sink-bathing. Poor dear. Then tonight, her jerk mom just gave her kibble without water in it, and she choked and keeled over on the floor requiring mom to do doggie Heimlich. Afterwards, she was right as rain, and bad mom put water in her food, vowing never to forget again. Poor little dear.

Once again, Wee expresses how I feel these days: exhausted. Actually, he is completely blissed out, but for me it expresses TIREDNESS! No one is going to adopt that guy. It's too bad -- he's super cute. And widdly, and licky and barky.

The Latest in a Crappy Saga.

2009-01-12T19:16:00.000-08:00

There is no amount of chocolate in the world that will help me feel better about what happened today. For fans of Chester, it did not involve him, for once.

Yesterday I went outside to find a sort of sinkhole by the corner of the foundation of my house. I thought that since we had a lot of snow, runoff was coming down and pooling by the foundation, so I dug a better path through the icy nasty snow for the water. As I was doing this, I stepped on what looked to be solid ground and slurped into the sinkhole up to my knee.

Luckily, my shoe stayed on, and I was wearing handknit wool socks, which insulate even when wet! And they do! Of course that ruined my plans for the day, so I went in and did laundry. Later, I went back out and smelled detergent outside. I checked my basement and there was a leak, but no broken pipe -- it just looked like a fitting had cracked or something. So today (Monday) I called the plumbers, thinking it was just a bad connection in my basement.

I was so... very... wrong...

Backstory (scroll down to skip)
Once upon a time, I was interested in a property. I had it inspected, and the inspection was OK. It turns out the boilerplate in the inspection contract says the inspector is "not an expert", (so why even hire one), but I digress. The "foundation" had 8 feet entirely missing, and even intact was not enough to support what was there (it was merely what they call a sill). So the shack had to be torn down and a house built, by a duly licensed and insured, recommended, contractor. And so it was.

After my apartment lease was up the end of March, the builder said I could move in. Then he disappeared to Boise (on a bender, I found later). So I moved in. Four days later as I was in the yard scooping pug turds, a city inspector came by and asked what I was doing there. After telling him I was "Scooping pug turds, duh?" he said I couldn't be there. I said in true Idaho fashion, "Um, this is MY property. You get off it!" The next day, Mr. CDA Code Enforcement came and said, "I have to evict you, and I can arrest you if you don't go."

It turns out the builder never got an occupancy permit. In fact, much of the things weren't even inspected! So Mr. CDA Code Enforcement interceded for me because the builder would not answer my calls. He threatened builderman with a revoking of his license, which got builderman's attention. So I packed up Chester and Marley and moved into a hotel, despite builderman's offer (made to Code Enforcement) for me to come live with him out in the sticks (shudder).

Slowly, the things that stopped the permit were corrected, albeit poorly and after 2 weeks of hotel life, the house was pronounced occupy-able. During my hotel stay, I discovered that Chester thinks "hotel" equates to "shacking up with Marley" with shameless humping upon her in the lobby and elevator and God-knows-where else -- every six feet he'd be on her grunting like a giant tortoise in rut.

Eventually I moved back to my house and noticed things like some of the wood trim isn't, um, varnished, and the dishwasher is installed wrong, so if you leave dishes in it, they grow mold. There's no master bathroom (it was a master powder room), and the niche for my TV doesn't fit with my actual TV, and the fireplace isn't finished and the door handles are upside down, the pocket doors are missing parts and on and on. Stuff from minor to major to completely idiotic: light blue touch up paint used to touch up WHITE walls. Oh, but the touch up guy had a warrant for his arrest, so he wasn't able to come back and fix it.

Today
NOTE: Blogger uploaded the first picture sideways. Inconceivable.

These days, the builder REALLY isn't answering my calls. I was able to "hide" my number and he'd pick up, but even that doesn't seem to work any more. So I go about living my life until the sinkhole incident yesterday.

Today, the plumbers came and inspected, and called in more plumbers and said to me, "Uh oh!" and explained to me that: my house is connected to the 4-inch pipe that ostensibly goes to the elderly clay sewer pipe, which goes to the sewer. In reality, my house IS connected to the 4" pipe, which then runs along the side of my house for 5 feet and then... stops. It's broken there.

Now, most insurance companies would say, "Oh, the pipe's broken. That's normal wear and tear. It's old. We're not covering it. It could be Tree Roots."

Being the drama queen that I am, my situation is more... dramatic. You see, in my case, there is NO OTHER END OF THE PIPE! There is no pipe in my yard! It was probably annihilated during construction of my garage/shop, or the house, but the trench was filled back in WITHOUT ATTACHING TO THE SEWER! That I have been paying for, BTW.

So the upshot is that yesterday I was sucked down in a SINKHOLE OF ICY SEWAGE! Of my own making! The thrill of a lifetime! Less immediately bad, but dreadful nonetheless is that I have unknowingly sent sewage out into the side yard for 9 months. Oh, joy of joys. It's now a fertile place, I am sure.

The plumbers want 10 grand to trench through my back yard and connect me to the sewer, AND cap off where the old house was connected. They assure me they know what they're doing, have done this A Lot and will do it right, for $10,000 US.

Meanwhile, my lawyer has been contacted and a homeowner's claim has been filed. My lawyer gave me some interesting tips, so Mr. CDA Code Enforcement dude will be phoned tomorrow, because he is actually part of the CDA police. I'm of the opinion that this is CRIMINAL. At the very least, it's pretty shitty. I'm sure Code Enforcer will remember me. Hah.

You know what? When you can't use the pot, you really, really need to go. The plumber did say, "Oh, go ahead and do laundry -- it will just go out into the hole." Same with showering. He didn't want me sending crap into the hole, though. Happily, my sister is/was a real 1960's hippy, and she once told me, "If it's yellow, let it mellow," so that's all kinds of helpful! (If it's brown, flush it down won't be happnin'). AND -- the other good thing is that the basement is unfinished, and I HAVE a basement, otherwise I may have come into my kitchen to find the sink backed up and full of sewage. But I didn't! I just stepped in it! UP TO MY KNEE! And my wool sock still kept my foot warm! And my shoe wasn't lost! And no pugs fell in!

Oh, and because of my needle felting, I'm up on my tetanus, so any bad tetanus-causing bugs in the sinkhole will be sent packing by my happy immune system.

Ironically, the pugs can still use their potty. In the yard.

I hope you all are now saying, "Wow, my life is certainly a lot better than hers!" and are feeling good. If so, I will feel like I have done a service.

Next post: Pug CSI again. The dishwasher caper. And maybe a photo of Chester helping me blog. He is completely IN my buttoned-up cardigan snoring away like some 8-week-old puppy.

I can't resist! Here is Pensive Wee:

Merry Christmas to ME!

2008-12-25T13:07:00.000-08:00

I was awakened by Chester. Chester barfing. All I could say was, "Dude, it's CHRISTMAS!" but he didn't stop. Luckily it was just, just spit? And on his blanket, not mine.

Gaseous Emissions
Yesterday, I kept Chester crated at home all day, the poor guy. But I was SO HAPPY when I got home because I knew he hadn’t eaten a turd! So overjoyed, you just don’t know. What a thing to take joy out of, but such is my life with him. Anyhow, I proceeded to let everyone outside to go potty, and Chester wanders over on top of the deep snow to take a dump. And then he turns around and GRABS A LOG! And he ate it as I was screaming, “NO! STOP!” and trying to throw snowballs at him. I managed to leap into the knee deep snow and grab his neck before he ate all of it, but still. My joy bubble was burst in one fell swoop.

I took comfort in the fact that Wednesday was a new day. And so did Chester – Marley dropped a turd in the kitchen and guess who cleaned it up? Well, it wasn’t me.

That explains his gas.

Seriously.

Sunday I thought, “I have got to call the vet – Chester really stinks”. Then I found the mark on the floor where he’d cleaned. He was exuding the smell of crap from every fiber of his being.

So – not only is tomorrow a new day, but a whole NEW YEAR! Chester Fecal NONConsumption is my resolution. CFNc
“So what New Year’s Resolution did you make for 2009?”
“To stop my dog from eating shit.”

A Sasha story

2008-12-24T08:03:00.001-08:00

When the snow lets up, sometime this spring, I think Sasha may have a great home. I hope. In the meantime, here's a little story about the Diva-to-rival-Marley.

This morning, Wee flung himself on me to wake me up. This is always funny because he's so... so... Wee that he gets high centered and teeters on my side (I was lying on my side). Once he sees my eyes open, the tongue comes out. Wee is definitely juicy. He has a lot of spit and wants to use it to wash my face.

After several seconds of slurping, I got up. Four pugs came with me; a headcount revealed that Sasha was missing. Living with the Marvelous Vanishing Marley has taught me that black pugs can disappear in the most amazing ways. Marley's latest vanishing act is to stand quietly directly behind you. Sasha can disappear into a dark leather club chair with ease, and that was where I looked, but she wasn't there.

So the fantastic four went outside to potty in the frozen yard while I called for Sasha with no luck. Then I got a brilliant idea! I got a little scoop of kibble, and her dish. I stood where I could see most of my downstairs and poured the food from a height into the metal dish so it would clink, and lo and behold, there on my bed was a fast moving lump; Sasha. She stuck her head out from under the covers with the most hilarious expression on her face that I had to laugh. I hadn't noticed that lump because the rest of the comforter was lumpy. Miss Diva did not want to go out in the cold and potty, but she was going to get up for breakfast!

Girl's club:
Sometimes, you just want a warm body, and if it's your protege, well, so much the better. These two lie together fairly often (as I type, they're on the memory foam bed). I was surprised to find them in the crate together. I love how Marley holds her back feet. She is feeling very good lately, probably due to the Adequan arthritis shot. She gets another one this weekend.

They all have various ways of keeping warm. Wee has to sit on me, Chester ambles around licking the floor -- no, wait! That's something else! I am thinking of knitting him a ski mask. And tips on pattern sources (except that one from 1960 with the clowns, which is just horrifying) please let me know!

Bugsy has his own way of keeping warm. Do not try this at home, folks. Bugsy is a trained heat-seeking professional who sleeps on the fireplace hearth while the fireplace is on. Here he is completely misusing a heating pad. And worse, I'm letting him do it, but that's because I'm supervising.

Knitting
I'm currently working on a shop project that I'm going to make into kits. Hopefully this hat will be on display at the shop, but it may be displayed around town on my head. I like it. It's the Midnight Sun Tam. I love color knitting as it's easy, but not as mindless as stockinette.

2008-12-18T12:07:00.000-08:00

My horrifying discovery regarding the non-removable sofa cushions was proceeded by Chester projectile vomiting on the leather couch. And it ran down the arm, but I thought it would be OK as I could simply remove the seat and clean and disinfect.

Nope.

While I was mopping, I was phoning the vet (gotta love any phone that isn't attached to a wall!).

Out in the snowstorm we went, and made it to the vet by taking main surface streets, and maxing out at 25mph in four wheel drive. My weird dog immediately perked up when he got to the vets, so I had to convince them that he really was sick. It's Chester's home away from home I guess, and he loves everyone that works there. I keep saying, "Well, wanna take him home overnight? Huh? Huh?"

So the vet says perhaps Chester is having motility issues -- his stomach has stretched out so much from the giant hairball that it's not squeezing things out the bottom properly. We talked about that for a bit, and I asked, "I wondered about his big stomach -- I'm thinking he doesn't feel full after he eats." The vet agreed. Chester's stomach is like a balloon that's been overfilled and then deflated, so it hasn't shrunk back to normal size. He has a broken tummy! A pug with stomach atrophy is totally pathetic.

Chester is now getting Regulan (metaclopromide), which hopefully will help move things right along. In fact, the vet said he was up himself all night vomiting, so perhaps he would take a Regulan as well. LOL! Gotta love the vets. I also found out that the vet that did the surgery is off the rest of the week, and Chester's regular vet will be in, so if Chester has another problem, I will know to bring the hairball with me.

Yeah, his regular vet missed out on the hairball. I know he'll want to see it for real.

On the way home, I managed to get the pickup stuck 2 doors from my house. I high centered on a pile of snow, so Chester was forced to slog home in his blue sweater. At least he's smart enough that he followed my tracks, but I had to SHOVE him into house. I then gathered my snow shovel and with the help of some neighbors, dug my car out. Of course this means I'll be stuck here for a while, but I'm within walking distance of a grocery store, so I'm not terribly worried.

Horrifying Discovery

2008-12-18T11:59:00.000-08:00

I just made a horrifying discovery. The seat cushions on my sofa are not removable.

More on that later. I have a pug story about someone else for now.

Many people tell me they want to be reincarnated as one of my pugs. I am very flattered that everyone thinks my pugs have it so good, but the other day, something happened and I feel I should publicly warn people NOT to come back as one of mine.

I was vacuuming for the second time that day -- it was Monday, my day off, and Chester was coming home, so I really wanted to make sure there wasn't any pug hair on the floor. My efforts are essentially futile, even vacuuming twice in one day.

Anyhow, I was using just the tube to suck up some dust bunnies from under the sofa. The vacuum was running, and I was standing there moving furniture with one hand when I heard that sound that means you've sucked up the rug fringe or the draperies or something. I wasn't near either thing, so I stood there for a moment. I looked down, and there was something stuck in the vacuum -- Marley's ear. She was standing below me and I must have been waving the hose around. Poor little thing -- she didn't yelp or anything, just stood there like this was an everyday occurance. I immediately shut the vacuum off and gave her a cookie, but it's things like this that make me want to warn people away!

Meanwhile today has not been going so well. Over the past 24 hours we have had record snowfall, and so I've been mopping puddles and shoveling pathways all day. And then there's Chester, but that story is getting more elaborate, so it will be a separate post. And I'll have snow photos.

Chester's Surgery quickie

2008-12-12T14:03:00.000-08:00

As of 1pm Pacific Standard Time, Chester was done with surgery and had come through it quite well. A new record was set: he gave birth to a 1.5lb (.68kg) hairball. The tech was completely grossed out. Photos will be forthcoming after I go and take pictures of the thing later today.

Apparently it was fully stuck to his stomach. And it was so large that when they started making the incision, his stomach started coming up and out right away.

Poor Chester. The other day when he was in for a pre-op exam, they weighed him at 19 pounds. Normally he's 23 pounds. So he now weighs 17.5 pounds and his stomach is completely empty and stretched out like a worn out balloon. That makes him only 2.5 pounds heavier than Wee (Erwin). When the drugs wear off, Chester's going to be HUNGRY! Good thing he's going to be hospitalized, so that I have time to clear the decks of dust bunnies.

UPDATE:
Animals are completely remarkable. Really. I stopped by the vet to visit the hairball, and they thought I meant Chester. Well, he was apparently OUT going potty a mere five hours after his surgery. While I was standing there waiting for them to bring me the actual hairball, guess who walked by? Yes. Chester. How incredible is that? Then he nearly fell over. Good drugs.

So, this hairball was similar to the first one, but not as flat. It had a smashed in area, which was unusual. Still, you could completely make out where it was clogging his pyloric valve (the exit valve, which is that protrusion at the bottom). The arrow in the picture below points to a piece of celery. That piece of celery is TWO WEEKS OLD, and was in some turkey soup I made for him. Cooked celery, not raw; a normal dog would have digested it. You can see other pieces of celery here and there as well. There's also a piece of red yarn, but it doesn't show in the photo. The vet told me this hairball was completely stuck to the inside of Chester's stomach, and he had to pry the stomach away. I asked if he ever videotaped things like this and he said he didn't but if he'd only known, he would have. Darn. I should have said something. I will start Chester on Laxatone(?) or mineral oil as a regular daily part of his diet now that his stomach is blissfully empty and clean. Hopefully it will grease the skids, as it were, so nothing sticks.

I also had 10" of my hair cut off. Maybe that will help, but who knows, the vast majority of the hairball was compressed pug hair.

The vet brought out some cage muzzles to show me and I just laughed at him. Those won't fit on a pug. Since I'm completely at my wits end about this, I will be looking for a pet psychic or something to find out why Chester does this and to communicate to him how bad it is. Yeah, I'm grasping at straws.

OK, now for the grossness. Squeamish? How can you be, if you're reading this, you probably have pugs or some kind of canine! Come on, just look at the pictures! You know you want to. There are two photos. One of the hairball, and another with part of it pulled apart so you can see that it's all compacted hair. The vet suggested I put a Christmas bow on the hairball and leave it at my ex-'s place with a note, "Merry Christmas, miss ya, love ya!" Ha! My vet is awesome.

Hairball II, the Sequel

2008-12-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

Chester has been trying to throw up for the past few days, so I made a vet appointment, using my quantity discount: Wee Man/Erwin got a microchip, Marley got some adequan for her arthritis which is really acting up, and Chester got an x-ray.

Poor dude only weighs 19 pounds. He usually weighs in over 20 pounds because he's big. He has 2 separate hairballs this time, so for $700 I can have them removed next Friday. Sigh.

Meanwhile, Erwin topped the scales at around 15 pounds, and Marley just sat there hunched over in pain. I want every pug in the WORLD to weigh just 15 pounds. It's the best size EVER! Bugsy outweighs the little dude by 10 pounds, at 25 pounds.

I had an idea! To defray his vet expenses, Chester has a kidney for sale.

It's not Christmas until someone craps in the mall.

2008-12-01T20:11:00.000-08:00

My sister emails me that her boyfriend has told her to "pack for three days, the weather is like it is here at home." She's being taken on a surprise trip. One of my best friends emails me from New York City's garment district, the tease. I, on the other hand, am spending the holidays cleaning up pug turds.

No, it's not really like that! I mean, it is true—Marley did poop in the mall, but the old lady was quite het up after her visit with Santa.

Yes, I took five pugs to sit on Santa's lap. Thank heavens for my BF, who brought her little pug and her husband, which meant extra hands. I told Santa three of mine had been good dogs (Marley, Bugsy and Sasha) and two were very bad (Erwin, and Chester). I also told him Erwin and Sasha wanted forever homes for Christmas.

Erwin and Marley, being the eldest got Santa's lap. Erwin is a lap sitting FOOL, and Marley is a practiced hand at this, so they both settled in. Chester acted up, refusing to sit, and Sasha just froze because she's a good little girl. Bugsy looked a little grumpy, probably because he had to wear a sweater, but he stayed put as I took all leashes except Sasha's. Santa held her leash because I am officially too old to engage in a merry chase through the mall after a wild thing. Been there, done that in my 20's, thankyouverymuch.

My photo setup technique is to dive on the floor under the camera. This year, I did something with Chester that served me well—I've been making him wait for his dog food, and I say "Look at me!" and when he does, he can eat. So guess who looks at me when I say "Look at me!" It was amazing. The other pugs look when I say their names, except Marley who feigns complete deafness. But when Marley accidentally looks, I cry out, "Takethepicturetakethepicturetakethepicture!" and the camera gal was on top of it. After five tries we got it, but boy, Bugsy just looks angry, doesn't he? Santa looks awfully serious, too!

Santa said that the pugs were better behaved than most of the kids he sees. Hah. I had to pry Wee Man and Marley off his lap—they were pretty happy up there. Marley was so overcome by the thrill of it all that she pooped as we made our way out of the mall. After 21 years of mall pooping after Santa by SOMEONE, I know to wear pants with pockets, and have a baggie in my pocket. Yes! I now have pug photos with Santa for every year since 1987.

New Wee video
Admiral Barky, AKA YapMaster Slim, AKA Wee Man is still barking at nothing. Well, it's something to him—he particularly enjoys barking at his shadow or the TV or whatever suits his fancy at the time. Right now, he's barking at me, thinking that I will let him sit on my lap. He has learned about the steps up to the bed, and I caught him in mid-leg-hike on my new pillow. I screamed, "What the HELL ARE YOU THINKING?" which stopped anything from coming out, and now my room is baby-gated off. It's good, because if he didn't pee on the bed, he would just lie there and bark, which means, "Come back to bed!" or "That shadow is out to get me!" or "I forgot how to get off the bed, Ma!"

I digress. The other day at the shop, Wee Man's previous owners came to "visit" him. Apparently they were driving by and saw him sunning himself. So they wanted to bring the son by to say goodbye to Erwin. Not that they cared about what Erwin thought, the poor dear. So he was feeling a little out of sorts and disappeared into the back room.

Homemade soup
None of the pugs are settling down like they normally do, probably because I am making turkey soup out of the Thanskgiving carcass. Bugsy has assumed a position (looking much like the position in the photo with Santa) under the stove. And he just belched. Lovely. High class. Erudite.

Admiral Barky

2008-11-12T12:31:00.001-08:00

I'm fostering a pug for Second Chance Pet Rescue. His name is Erwin, but who names a pug ERWIN? I can never remember it, so I usually call him Emmett, or Admiral Barky, since he is a watchdog extraordinaire. In fact, he barks at his own shadow sometimes. AB does something funny, so I made a little video of it, as I've never seen a pug do this exact thing (oh, and the snoring in the background is Marley herself):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBUy4Zdt_F8

Admiral Barky is often confined to the brig, because he's still a marker. The other boys, giants by comparision, are disgusted by the presence of the small man. Actually, Bugsy wants to play with him, but there's the little matter of the surgery AB had, so he's not really feeling like he wants to play.

Seven little-known things about me

Corrine Neissner pinged me to do this.
1. I have a master's degree in software engineering
2. I have terrible spatial relations ability, so it's hard for me to sew because I just can not see how the pattern shapes should go together.
3. I had guinea pigs growing up because my dad wasn't allergic to them.
4. I like boy dogs better, and Marley is my first girl dog.
5. I can play the piano (not very well, though).
6. I am afraid of heights.
7. Black olives are disgusting to me -- they taste metallic.

Shop dog Bugsy.

Bugsy's Road Trip, One thing Chester is Not Allergic To, Marley's Big Day

2008-10-27T18:44:00.001-07:00

I'm not blogging much. This is because just prior to the economy going blooey (well, so says the news), I decided to open up a yarn shop (www.cdayarnandfiber.com).

Opening a retail store, I've discovered, is a huge undertaking. There are lots of things you have to think about from how to lay out your store so people have a good experience and don't take things out without paying, to what kind of shopping bags you'll have and everything in between. Not to mention, what sort of yarn will you carry? Oh, and what kind of Internet connection, and machinery will you have.

So, in the yarn display department, I took a trip to Seattle to go to IKEA. Of course I packed all the pugs in the car, which was easier going than it was coming back. I bought a lot of stuff at IKEA -- my pal and I were there all day, and three IKEA guys loaded up my pickup. I thought I'd have to strap the pugs to the roof, but luckily I put their dog beds on top of everything in the back and they had a perfect perch. Of course Marley didn't care, she had to be on my lap the entire time. But I got pictures just by holding the camera up facing backwards, and some of them even turned out!

When we got back, I did a little rearranging of the living room to expose the lovely unfinished fireplace. I was cold so I turned the gas on, and Bugsy came and sat next to me. So began Bugsy's winter career as a fire lizard. That dog loves the warm. In fact, I told him he was going to catch is fur on fire one day, but he just laughed and sprayed me with snot. Sometimes, I can find him up there when the fireplace isn't even on -- he's ever hopeful, like all pugs.

Chester is Not Allergic To:

Bee stings. How amazing is that? He was with me one evening at the shop and all of a sudden he had some sort of spaz attack like pugs do. I didn't think anything about it, because of the way he roots around in plastic bags and stuff. As I was working, I looked at him, sitting with his back to the wall looking rather droopy. He was doing that pug meditation thing where he was physically there but he wasn't present. Or so I thought.

After a bit, I was finished and said, "Let's go home!" Well, he trots to the door and I see one of his lips is swollen. He tried to eat a half-dead hornet that was on the windowsill (I found it in the middle of the floor). So that explained the spaz attack and the meditations. Ever the good pug mother, of course I immediately got the camera and took his picture (I'll post it later), then drove him to the grocery store nearby and bought some Benadryl and cheese and gave him one there in the car. A few hours later, I gave him another and he slept through the night and was fine the next day. He likes the idea of cheese in the car, but that's another post.

Having had a pug go into anaphylactic shock not once but twice from his shots, I know what that looks like, and I am totally stunned and amazed that it didn't happen to Chester. A bit of good karma for him, I suppose.

Bugsy Announcement, Doggie Dip, What to Call +2 Pugs, and A Bit of Irony

2008-08-27T15:10:00.000-07:00

First off, apparently because of Chester, my vets are in-the-know about the dangers of Xylitol for dogs. He's doing his part for dogs in the area, I guess. If your dog eats sugarless gum, you have to take them to the vet right away.

Bugsy's Big Announcement

Bugsy has lost 8 pounds since he came here to the pug spa. Bugsy is a a whole different dog, and it's funny to see his personality emerge.

He has also found a home.

Doggie Dip

So the boy pugs got weighed at the vets when I took Bugsy in for his shots, which were overlooked during his neutering. During the visit, I made them weigh Chester, who at 24 pounds weighs only one pound less than Bugsy. It's all in his turgid stomach.

Everyone had to be current on their shots to go to the Doggie Dip -- the Spokane area outdoor city pools are closing for the season, so they let dogs go swimming. I brought Boomer's life jacket, which was novel for one and all -- they'd never seen such a thing. It came in handy, though, because I put Bugsy in the pool at about the third step down, and he froze, just like Boomer. He would have sunk straight to the bottom except the life jacket kept him floating, and he just floated there, bobbing like a cork for a couple of seconds, utterly confused.

When he regained his wits, he turned and swam the 18" back to the steps and high-tailed it out of the pool. He spent the rest of the time with a tennis ball someone had brought. That's part of the joys of adopting a rescued pug: little things like this emerge. Bugsy is a fiend for tennis balls.

Mr. Manly Chester, on the other hand, freaked out completely, and swam immediately to the railing where he managed to wedge himself between it and the side of the pool. Like some furry limpet, he desperately clung to the side of the pool, and the lifeguard and I had to pry the pathetic animal loose with the handy grab-handle on his life jacket.

I have a pair of large pug wimps.

Marley got set onto the second step so only her legs got wet, and she was had none of that, thank you very much. She promptly hopped out and said to me, "You said this was a pool party, not swimming lessons! There are no cabana boys! Where's my fluffy towel? Ugh!" I'm just lucky she didn't pee in the pool in disgust. Later, she wanted to know where the cocktail weenies were, and how a girl was supposed to get an appletini around there. I told her she was having no appletini, and the cocktail weenies were fawn and lived with her. She stomped off to flirt with the male lifeguard.

What to Call More than Two Pugs

How about a "party of pugs"? I think that's appropriate, because when I haul the three around, it's like I've brought the party. I think that phrase suits groups of pugs very well. You heard it here first, folks. (Stephen Colbert, eat your heart out).

Speaking of which, maybe for rescue, I'll have a pug Halloween Party here at the house. The theme of course will be politics. That's pretty scary!

Marley

She is currently getting shots once a week of adequan. This is because she had blood in her urine, and a UTI that didn't clear up. She had an ultrasound (complete with a Brazilian), and it showed some thickening of her bladder wall. I have to give the shots, and I stick her right in her bacon area. She doesn't mind because I put her on the kitchen counter with an open bag of treats, so she spends all her time trying to put her face in the bag and hardly flinches.

The treatment is adequan, which happens to be an arthritis drug. So guess who is feeling fine? Yep, she is peppy and actually chewed on a bone the other day. I took a video of her chomping it, but she thinks she's not glamourous so I'll have to sneak it on to YouTube when she's not looking.

Irony

I love it when something is ironic. For instance, in 2007, a bunch of Anarchists crashed Spokane's Fourth of July celebration and protested various things and scuffled with the police. The definition of anarchy! This year, they applied for a permit to protest at the celebration. An anarchist, applying for a permit? Oh, how ironic.

So my sister went to Denver. She reports back to me that protesters at the Democratic National Convention had to also apply for permits, and were assigned specific protest locations. Some protesters got there a day early, and spent the night in a fenced-off area under sodium arc lights. The area was ironically nicknamed... "The Freedom Cage."

Oh brother.

Darn Goats in the House! and Retirement Announcement

2008-08-09T09:26:00.000-07:00

(Yes, he lies like this a lot. Not the full pugfrog, but a Chester version)

On Friday the 8th, I brought the mail in and happily noticed the new issue of Interweave Knits had arrived. Mother Nature called right then, so I went in to the "reading room" and found a seat. Before I could even open my magazine, Marley started barking her tattle bark. I hung up with Mother Nature and went to see what was going on in the living room, thinking perhaps she just wanted me to lift her down from the sofa.

In the approximately 60 seconds I was in the bathroom, Chester had gotten into my purse. Stupid me, answering nature instead of putting my purse up on some high shelf somewhere. He ate the brand new package of sugarless gum. Again. I grabbed him and hauled him upstairs to force feed him hydrogen peroxide, which is said to make dogs throw up. (I have since learned that about a teaspoon of table salt will work much better)

As George Bernard Shaw said, "...never wrestle with a pig. You get dirty and besides, the pig likes it." In this case, both of us got dirty and neither of us liked it much. It was also unsuccessful. I don't think goats throw up during daytime hours. Only at 2am on the bed.

Off to the emergency vet we went (ca-ching!), where they injected Ches with something that worked to make him barf. A hapless vet tech got to sort through the vomit, and said to me, "Was it fruit flavored gum?" I told her I thought it was, but didn't really know since I didn't get any! Chester got to spend the night, and Marley was worried when I came home without him. The next morning hen I retrieved the goatpug, he was still angry with me about the hydrogen peroxide, but 24 hours cured that. Both Bugsy and Marley checked him out carefully at the door.
About that gum
I was at the store where they were starting to display Halloween goods! So at the checkstand, I saw this new flavor of Orbit called "Fresca Sangria". I wondered why it wasn't with the Halloween goods, since is one of those unfortunately named products: "fresh bleeding". Like trying to sell Chevy Novas in Mexico, where "Nova" translated to "no va" which means no go.

Apparently the gum is quite good (according to you-know-who), and so are the wrappers. I can't comment, not having had any.

And why did this happen?
I went to Friday knitting and a friend of mine was there. Her son and Chester have some sort of psychic link whereby the kid is at the ER the same time Chester is at the ER vet. It's really, really weird. So we were sitting there and I asked her, "So how's your son?" Well, the son was just fine and so was Chester. I was relieved. It was Marley's turn to run up the vet bill, then Bugsy again, and then Chester.

The world is now slightly off kilter because Chester changed the order of things. Marley's big vet expense is coming next week when she has to have an ultrasound because she's showing a little blood in her urine, and it's not a UTI.

I text-messaged my friend from the waiting room at the ER vet and wrote: WATCH YOUR KID!

Guess what? Within 5 days, her little boy tripped, fell and gashed open his chin resulting in at trip to the ER and 3 stitches. Apparently, she had not mentioned my text message to her husband, who was with Chester's little buddy at the time of the injury. I told her to let him in on this next time.

Announcing a Retirement
Marley has retired. She will no longer be modeling for her fashion house. It's the end of an era. It was a shocker to me, but on August 14, she was in a dog fashion show and would NOT sashay down the dogwalk! Instead, she stood there and said, “No. In fact, HELL no. It’s hot out here! You didn’t pay me enough for this gig! There are no M&Ms in a Kosta Boda Crystal dish in my dressing room and where's the ice water. I’m so mad I may throw a cell phone at you!” She stalled for so long she was ignominiously snatched up by the event organizer while I laughed and Tux wondered what the heck was going on. You just have to laugh when you have pugs. So she has retired. I realized at the fashion show signups that neither Chester nor Bugsy would fit the Hawaiian shirt I'd brought so I had even paired her with Tuxie, the cutest little gray-faced black pug rescue belonging to JL, thinking they'd be a shoo in as crowd favorite. Unfortunately, Marley just had to put her foot down. And not lift it again, and move forward for the photographer who was lying in the middle of the street. Maybe she had a flashback to the fashion show in California, which was similar heat and dressing room-wise.

This means several things for the House of Marley:
1. I will have to use a mannequin. That sucks totally.
2. I will have to use Chester and Bugsy. One of them will have to be a cross-dresser (Boomer was so good for this, I still miss that kid.)
3. The clothes will be getting larger. If I have to fit Chester and Bugsy, they’d better. I can call it "Bugs' Big and Tall."

Knitting
I finished a sweater for my sister. She loved it, and went on and on about how fantastic it was until I had to interrupt to ask, "But does it FIT?" Yes, it does, so she won't be sending it back to me. The sweater is for her trip to Europe because she was telling me what clothes she was bringing and the words "gray" and "black" were mentioned far too often. I asked her if she knew of this thing called "color"? Apparently she didn't. The sweater is a pink that will go with gray and black, and can be worn alone or over other things. It's made from Rowan Purelife Cotton, which is a really neat yarn. It's dyed with a natural dye: Brazilwood.

Note: the sweater isn't striped. I got the photo from my Flickr pictures, and it seems to have gotten a bit of a moire pattern on the bottom. It's not really like that.

I'm participating in the Ravelympics on Ravelry. I may have bitten off more than I can chew there, though. I'm still grumpy about Chester's vet trip and sad about Marley's retirement and it's going to be really hot, and I don't feel like knitting. I should be happy, though, because I finally sold the bathtub that was sitting in my bedroom, and the crummy flooring in the garage. Whee. I guess that money goes to... Chester's vet!

Arbor of DOOM!

2008-07-24T19:17:00.000-07:00

A little over one week ago, I was setting this up and dropped the entire thing, fully assembled, on my left ankle.

My left ankle is my "bad" ankle, having crashed while motorcycling on the left side and sliding along the pavement with my bike lying on top of my ankle as I tried to shove it off with my right foot (yes, I actually had the presence of mind to do that while sliding along!)

I didn't think I needed to see a doctor, because even if it's broken, it's not "broken" -- it's just a stress fracture, so they'll take x-rays and tell me to stay off it. Why pay for something so obvious.

But -- it still hurts and swells up (if I don't stay off of it). I can't spend weeks sitting on the sofa, even knitting -- I will go bonkers. So I'm at a loss.

Of course that makes the next harrowing adventure tale even MORE harrowing!

Chester Learns to Ride The Scooter
I got the bright idea to cheer Chester up (from his depression over the Interloper) by taking Chester to lunch. Unfortunately, I didn't want to walk there with my bad ankle. The most comfortable vehicle for me and my ankle is my scooter, since it's automatic transmission, so I decided it was time for Big C to learn to ride.

Right off the bat, I figured out Chester can't sit on my lap. In order to have a big enough lap to accomodate his round rump, I'd have to scoot back on the seat, and then I can't get my feet around the fenders and down to the ground. That's a problem. So Chester had to ride on the seat behind me.

Chester wears a harness and has a heavy-duty leather leash, so I harnessed him up and actually tied him to my waist. I told him to SIT, which he did, for about 100 feet and then there was weight at my side and Chester was dangling from his harness, looking completely nonplussed about the fact that he wasn't on the seat any more. His hind feet were on the floorboards, and we were going "test ride" slow, so he wasn't in danger.

I came to a complete stop and hoisted him back onto the seat while telling him, "THAT is why we STAY PUT!" After that, he did and we rode the remaining 7 blocks to Le Piastre, a lovely little bistro on the east end of town.

Chester is a delightful luncheon companion, listening to all my tales of the day and never interjecting boring stories about his life. He watches me raptly the entire time.

For that, he got a scrambled egg and I had a yummy crab melt sandwich. The trip home was uneventful except for numerous onlookers squealing about Chester and his pugmanly cuteness.

Bugsy report
Bugsy is pugmanly cute as well. And so polite and nice, I just can not believe no one has applied to adopt him. I think he and Chester are starting to like each other, but we're still having dominance wars. Chester's idea of playing is to give love bites all over his playmate. He still hasn't figured out this really does not make anyone want to play with him, so it falls to me to chase Chester in the yard (not so easy now that I have a bum ankle).

But I digress. Today, I put Bugsy on the second! notch of his collar! When I got him, we could hardly get the collar on. I was happy when the collar went on easily, and totally stoked that I got to tighten it a whole notch!

He really is a goat!

2008-07-14T08:54:00.000-07:00

Chester has discovered the joys of the mulching mower. In fact, lately, he spends most of his time "grazing" by nibbling at the grass and trying to consume the little mulchy bits.

Unfortunately, this morning after our walk, he discovered the pile of cleanings from under the mower. I had gone inside to aim Bugsy at the water dish, and when I came back out, Chester had vanished. There he was, at the side of the house, and when I called him, he turned and looked at me with a green mulch clod hanging out of his mouth. All I had to do was say, "A-hem!" and he spat it out.

For some reason, my little pug-goat doesn't vomit after eating mulch clods, so I guess he just likes them. Chester is inexplicable.

The other evening, Chester gave me "the look of death" because Bugsy was sitting on my lap. The look says, "Remove the interloper now." Pugs, like people, don't automatically like everyone they meet, and this is true with Chester and Bugsy. Bugsy likes Chester just fine, but it's not true the other way around. Even Marley isn't in love with the big lump, she prefers to cuddle with Chester. I'm sure Chester feels his position as "top dog" is being challenged. The boys get along just fine, but it's not best friendship. Chester IS starting to come around since I instituted the pug boys morning sneak fitness walk.

People keep asking if I'm going to keep Bugsy, but if I get looks like this from Chester, why would I do that to either of them? Although... Bugsy is no trouble at all, and I did notice this morning that he and Chester were sleeping together on my bed. Hmmm. NO!

Chipmunk sighting and other wildlife news
I saw a chipmunk. I knew there were squirrels around, but when I heard a chirping sound and turned to look, there was a 'munk on my front steps. I'm not sure where he lives.

Meanwhile, Rumple seems to be un-rumpling. I'm finding his/her downy feathers around the yard, and when I see Rumple, he looks like he's not so extremely messy. Rumple hasn't come around for a couple of days. I'm not sure why.

I got a new top-fill hummingbird feeder, and the little buzzy birds are ecstatic. My previous two feeders suffered fatal flaws: feeder #1 doesn't allow anything out unless it's totally full, and feeder #2 was leaky, despite me caulking every possible orifice with bathroom caulk. Plus #2 was green --what's up with that?!

Unfortunately, feeder #3 has a fatal flaw: the bottle part is somewhat flexible plastic. So, if you hold it too tightly while trying to get the annoying plastic lid screwed back down, the syrup squirts out the holes like a lovely champagne fountain popular at hummingbird weddings. I've converted it to a bottom-fill, and it is OK for now. Knock wood.

Bugsy
I finally got a photo of Bugs and Ches together so that you can see how much smaller Chester's head is. I had to crop the picture, and if you own a pugboy, you know why. Chester is performing an unspeakable act.

When Bugs first came to foster care, the vet tech barely got his collar around his neck. Now, Bugsy is able to pull his head out if he doesn't want to go! It's a combination of weight loss and the use of the Furminator. He was covered in lots of dead hair. Still, I'm afraid to weigh him in case he hasn't lost any weight. He was able to make it on our walk this morning without having to stop and rest more than once. He's still pretty loud, though, but he just loves going for walks. That boy is very sociable.

I have learned that Bugsy will amuse himself in the yard from time to time. This involves the hunt for rocks. My yard HAS no rocks -- it's all sand, save for a few here and there. Whenever I hear Bugs making happy chewing sounds, I know he's found a rock, which I have to confiscated. I toss them over the fence into the vacant house' side yard, which is gravel and weeds.

Meanwhile, Bugsy is teaching Chester new bad habits. Bugsy likes my chair for the simple reason that he can sit or stand on it and see out the front window. Watching the world is one of Bugs' favorite hobbies. Not to be outdone, as you can see, Chester has learned to share the chair. And more -- since there really isn't good viewing for two behemoths, Chester daintily jumps to the table under the window and stands up there, leaving the chair to Bugsy. So far he hasn't knocked the Aloe Vera off, but I moved it to the far side of the table just in case.

I'm hoping Bugsy won't learn this trick
Chester's acting up again. I went someplace (most likely the grocery store) and returned to find my knitting strewn all over the place. My knitting bag was half-crammed under the couch, but the energy bar within was safe because the bag was ZIPPED CLOSED! Yes, the naked monkey learns eventually. Is the perpetrator sorry? No, not really. What a faker!

It has been a long while since I've been treated to rampant destruction, and I'm happy to report that no wastebaskets were overturned (perhaps because he is too lazy to run upstairs and find one that's overturnable.)

A stupid story
Yesterday, I pulled a brand new bra out of the drawer. I went out, did errands, played with the pugs, everything. Then in the evening I was in the back yard pulling weeds and I heard a sound like heavy paper scraping against fabric. Since I was bent over, I had a good view of my cleavage, so I looked and lo and behold, there was a tag, still on my bra in between "the girls". That bra provides good separation. And something else, as you can see by the tag.

Next time: Chester learns to ride the scooter: a harrowing adventure tale!

Disrespecting the pug fence

2008-07-01T18:33:00.000-07:00

Sometime this month I am due to have my fence put in. I hope it is sooner, rather than later, because Mr. Bugsy is disrespecting my pug fence.

No other pugs do this, even Chester, but the biggest one has figured out how to escape.

Unfortunately, my fencing is lame and quite escapable, but usually the pugs are polite enough to remain behind the 14" or so high wire stuff sold as "garden fencing". Chester just jumps over it at will, so I concocted a "steeplechase" affair with 2 sets of fencing parallel to each other. At that point, Chester was contained, but as I was in the front yard today pulling weeds, who should I see but 33-pound Bugsy trotting towards me, followed 3 minutes later by Chester.

So disrespectful! Even Marley agrees, since she was stuck in the back yard by herself.

It's really a house now
I mowed my lawn for the first time on Friday! It came to me that this is the first lawn I've owned by myself. I've always had a condo or townhouse, or a husband, and the other house I owned by myself didn't have a lawn at all -- it had weeds.

I hung up the house numbers today. I also managed to get wood glue in my hair. Whoopee! At least now I won't have to field questions from pizza delivery drivers about whether it's really 713 or not.

I also cleaned the kitchen somewhat, so it feels more like home. Now I just have to get to those things I see every day but don't "see". Like the bathtub in my bedroom. Or the boxes neatly stacked where a bathtub SHOULD be. The builder is ignoring me again, so tomorrow I begin to write up my complaint.

I'm back: Blue Jay, Foster pug Bugsy, Chester & Marley

2008-06-22T07:56:00.001-07:00

I've been so busy -- repairing stuff that the builder screwed up, trying to get him to come finish (still no master bathroom), etc. Based on the last time I spoke to him, I think I've figured out what's going on -- he needs to start the next project to pay for the previous project because he does SOMETHING with the money that doesn't involve paying subcontractors. The house painters (who weren't that great!) are going to put a lien on my house for their pay, and the cement company already has. I'm not sure how that all works given the builder is the one that contracted these people, not me. All I know is I'm not planning on selling any time soon, nor am I planning on getting a loan.

I'm tired of dealing with contractors! They never do it right, I swear. The landscapers hooked the back yard lawn sprinklers up with the flower beds, which is bad; you never water your lawn for as long as you run drip irrigation. They also didn't pull out a stump they were supposed to remove, saying "It started growning again and it will make a nice little shade tree". What? They want $230 from me, and I said, come finish the contract by pulling the stump and I'll give you the check and I haven't heard from them again!

There's another contractor in the future, though: fencing. I wonder how that will get screwed up. I did find some little 3 foot high fencing at Home Depot, so I put that up out back, and the neighbor across the street promptly backed into it! I don't know how she got out of her garage when the previous place was here -- maybe that's why they're so grateful I'm here, so they can back onto my property without dropping off a 2 foot ledge.

Concrete block supports are my solution.

This is the SECOND neighbor woman I've had that backs over my property! But if that's the worst of it, I'm shouldn't complain.

Blue Jay Report
At least I'm enjoying the wildlife. I have TWO blue jays that come by and look at me through the windows. One is rumply, like he's moulting, so I call that one Rumplestiltskin. The other one is smaller and smooth, and I've decided that one is a girl (largely because she doesn't have the big white eyebrows that Rumple has). I feed them peanuts and we have a routine: the look at me, I bring the peanuts out, they wait until I get 8 feet away and then they fly over to the tree and wait. I put the peanuts on the railing (so I can watch from my desk) and they fly in and get them. Blue jays make a variety of noises, it's pretty interesting.

Foster Pugsy, Bugsy
I picked him up yesterday, and his owner actually cried, which was a good sign. She got him from a guy that totally neglected him, and then she had him for 2 years. She improved his life greatly, but he's now "benignly neglected" -- long toenails, he smells, he's NOT NEUTERED, needs a dental, and was being fed the same thing Chester was! Bugsy is SUPER friendly and he really wants to play, but Chester is not buying what he's selling. Poor guy. Bugsy is cute, and has a huge forehead and big ears. To me, he looks like King Kong.

So on to ranting about the dog food: I asked the woman what he ate, and she says, "Oh, it's Purina" and I naively say, oh, "O.N.E.?" Nope -- it's that Moist n' Meaty fake burger stuff that comes in cellophane packets! She goes on to explain that Bugsy has no teeth, so he needs soft food.

If anyone out there is feeding their dog that as their diet, PLEASE! STOP! It's cheaper if you just throw some Cheez-Its and sugar on the floor. No, don't do that either! Switch to an actual dog food! The second ingredient in that is "high fructose corn syrup". No way should that be part of a dog's diet. Heck, it should be a limited part of a human diet! No wonder Bugsy is overweight. He's even bigger than Chester, who is a big boy himself.

Of course Bugs won't eat the dog food served here (Orijen), but being a pug, he thought the better of that this morning when I put some canned chicken in with the kibble. And being a pug, he had NO PROBLEM cleaning his bowl -- he's only missing his lower incisors, and unless a pug has jaw pain, I have yet to see their eating affected by missing teeth!

Monday morning is his "date with destiny" -- neuter, dental (his breath smells like what comes out of his butt), and an evaluation for entropion and stenotic nares. This dog is loud. A lot. You know that loud Briggs and Stratton panting? This dog does it when he walks across the living room. Hopefully weight loss will help, but he may have too small an air intake. Mo' money, mo' money.

An Adventure with Bugsy
As I was driving home with the dog (AC on full blast which STILL didn't calm the breathing), I went past a playfield and looked over and there was a guy lying by the side of the road, and some women standing over him. The guy's motor scooter was lying on its side in the street, so I whipped the truck around and called 911.

What was odd was the 911 guy really, really wanted to know if the guy was wearing a helmet. Idaho doesn't have a helmet law, so I couldn't understand why the operator was so keen to know. I didn't see one, so I looked, and there wasn't one, which satisfied the operator.

I asked one of the women what happened, and she said she didn't know, she just saw him there and pulled up. I thought she'd hit him, but she said no. So I went over and could SMELL the alcohol (I told 911 "alcohol is a factor here"). I stood the scooter up and took the guy's keys, because he was mumbling something about being OK and wanting to go home. He was lying on the ground, totally wasted, with a skinned knee and a badly broken ankle, and if he'd put his considerable weight on that leg, he would have destroyed it.

Based on the scratch in the roadway, he missed the turn onto the side street and slid, ending up on the grass on the side of the road. We all made him lie there, and finally we heard sirens. He managed to slur, "Uh, is that for me?" and we said yes. I don't think he was happy, but I don't think he'll remember today.

No fewer than FOUR cops showed up, plus EMT, PLUS a fire truck! I think it was a slow day in CDA (and they're warming up for Ironman today). I handed the cop the guy's keys and told him the guy was wasted and had some injuries. Cop #2 starts asking the guy questions, starting with "Can I see your ID?" The guy is so drunk, he gets his wallet out and hands the cop a VISA! The cop says, "We don't take VISA" and we all had to turn away because we were laughing so hard.

The EMTs cut the guy's shoe and sock off, iced his ankle, splinted his leg, and loaded him onto a stretcher. Then it took FOUR of them to lift the stretcher onto the gurney, and I thought they were going to drop the guy. Cop #1 remarks to me that it's amazing that little 50cc scooter could carry the guy. After a brief moment of, "That cop just made a JOKE!" I said it's a good thing he was that big and the scooter was only a 50cc, otherwise he could have been going faster and the crash may have been worse.

Only June 21 and the scooter guy has RUINED his entire summer. Two teenage boys were there and I felt the need to mention to them all the money this just cost the scooter guy: ticket, lawyer, medical -- surgery for the ankle, and the teens said, "And he's got to go to court!" So I said, "This is why you don't drink and drive." They agreed.

So poor little Bugsy had to wait in the car while all this transpired, but he was a good dog.

Chester and Marley
Great Goofballs think alike. When I'm at my office desk, the pugs refuse to lie in their office bed. Sometimes Chester will lie in the guest chair, but I always feel badly for Marley because she lies on the rug. She doesn't complain or anything, but you know us pug moms. So I was at the fabric store and I found some fabrics and some batting to make her a nice blankie.

I set the fabric bag on the floor, and Chester promptly decided it was his new bed. I didn't get to making this thing for Marley, and then the next morning, the bag was still there and some one else decided it was a bed. I now have to keep the blankie up on a table or else the two of them wll try to nest in it. Since it's being quilted, it's pinned, so nesting is a bad idea. I know what it is they love: it's Minkee. Micro-plush. Whatever. Somehow they figure out where the stuff is and they try to lie on it. This shouldn't surprise me as Chester has made beds out of bags of fabric or yarn before. I just wish that the little recipient wouldn't try to help me pin-baste, which she did, lying smack in the middle of the thing. I felt bad having to remove her from something that's going to be hers.

Ex-husband news
I emailed him for the last name of the local handyman. No response. After a couple of weeks, I call, leave a message, "Please let me know what the phone number of the handyman is." No response. So this morning, I call after turning off my Caller ID (just like I have to do with the builder), and ex-husband answers the phone. I identify myself and say, "I'd like the phone number of so-and-so," and after a long pause, the ex says, "Uh, it's a bad time to talk now." Then he hangs up. WTF is that? So I wait a few hours and call back, but he doesn't answer -- it goes straight to voice mail. So I leave a message asking now for the DAMN phone number, and if he can't talk, he can just email it to me.

Well, he emails me that he doesn't want to do me any "favors" because I "stole" money from him after the divorce decree was signed, which is a big fat lie. Any checks I wrote on the joint account were written prior to the date of the decree. I have no control over if the recipient cashes them on the date or if they wait until Friday to go to the bank, but I damn sure wrote those and distributed those checks before court because I KNEW he would be pissy, so I covered my butt, even though that was an extremely stressful time for me, having to put Boomer down and school and all. You live with someone for 10 years, you get to know them.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize he'd wait 6-7 months to be so pissy or that he'd be passive-aggressive about it. He has killfiled all my email addresses and won't answer the phone when I call. But he sends me a text message at the caucus we both attended (and that was weird). And when we were at the same party at my friend's house, he picked Marley up and held her, and I didn't say anything. Because I am a grownup!

But I can't resist this bit of immaturity because I'm tired and sick of the world: motorcycling reader of this blog, (you know who you are) point him here (again) why don't you?

Final Occupancy

2008-05-15T06:31:00.000-07:00

I got the final permits, finally!

(Um, by way of explanation, this post has been sitting in "Drafts" since May 15. I thought I'd publish it, even though it's old, because I have the ongoing builder saga -- even though it's now the end of June, I'm still having to deal with the freak/alcoholic/pathological liar. Oh, and Ironman is happening soon...)

Unfortunately, it doesn't mean the house is finished. There's still part of my granite countertop missing, the kitchen cabinets aren't trimmed and there's no master bathroom bathing facilities. And there's the painters, who have inhaled too many fumes and thing "first thing in the morning" is 10am.

The painters. Hum. I didn't hire them. I found one peeing in my back yard as I cam out of the garage. That was a surprise. I said, "Well, HELLO THERE!" and he looked totally embarassed. I noticed he was facing my house; I HOPE he wasn't whizzing on my freshly painted siding.

Then they tried to get away with putting plastic on my windows for 10 days, which besides being bad for humans within is also bad for the windows (it gets warm and humid under the plastic). I started taking plastic down and voila, the painters showed up and one of them yelled at me. I suspect builderman has already paid them, and that's why they weren't fired. So the trim still isn't done, and my gutters are encased in plastic.

But -- the landscapers that I hired came when they said they would! That's different.

Stellar's Jay
I heard a blue jay the other day! Technically, they're not blue jays, but that's what everyone calls them. I used to have one visit when I lived in Washington. He would look in my windows and determine what room I was in, then fly to the window, grab the sill, and peck at the glass until threw him some peanuts. The neighbor behind me was an ass (he dumped his yard waste over the fence into my yard), so I always enjoyed watching Mr. Jay hide the peanuts under the neighbor's shingles.

Anyhow, the Stellar's Jays here in what they call "the interior" (as opposed to "the coast") look a little different -- they have white eyebrows. After I heard the jay, I went to the store and bought raw peanuts. The trick is to buy them in the bulk food section where they are $1.79/pound or whatever, instead of the bird seed aisle where they come in bags that work out to $3/pound.

I put some of the peanuts on the deck railing and it didn't take long! He or she comes back for all of them -- I may have to go to Costco and price peanuts.

Marley Tale
Last week she started getting me up at 3am, desperate to go outside and pee. This went on for a couple of days until she couldn't roust me and she peed on the bed, and I started thinking, she wants to pee a lot. What makes you want to pee a lot? Of course the first thing I think of is that she's now diabetic, but then I had a second thought: Urinary Tract Infection! So I got her in to the vet that day, and yes, she has a UTI.

Chester has been humping Marley every day in the late afternoon, and I asked the vet, "Does the UTI make her smell attractive to Chester?" You never know with him. The vet said it could be that Chester's efforts caused the UTI through too much friction. We will never now, because thankfully the pugs can't talk, but since the antibiotics, he's not going at Marley quite as much.

Although they did accompany me to the dump and he thought he could put on a performance for he woman at the entrance. "Do you think I'm sexy, bay-bee? Grunt, uff, grunt."

I used to live less than a mile away from the local bakery/coffeeshop where Friday morning knitting happened, but now I live a little over a mile. I figured Chester would be up for the walk, which he was, and Marley rode in her stroller like some canine Cleopatra. After we got to our sidewalk table, suddenly, "YAP!" Oh dear, I wasn't paying attention to her, I was eating a scone and she wasn't getting any. Chester, the mooch, succesfully begged off the guy at the next table and got to lick out his soup bowl! I had to wipe his clam chowder mustache off for him.

After we got home, Chester was exhausted, as he should have been (and what I wanted), but so was Marley! Oh, tough life getting wheeled to-and-fro while being shaded by a canopy.

Knitting
I try to get a little knitting in during the evenings, but I've been doing things like cleaning up the builder's mess and installing light fixtures, and changing light switches so that the first one is the one you use the most often. Most of these things are simple, but they require hand strength or tools I don't have, so I am a bit sore, and covered with bruises in really odd places.

I did finish a sweater, and am working on sweater #2 and curtain number 1 for the north window (a small window).

I could not stop laughing
The builder invited himself over today, so I was watching out my front window, contemplating how I could best hide from him, when I saw movement across the street. A small buck-nekkid person was running around the front yard, free as a bird, trying to climb into the neighbor's boat, then tiptoeing around on the grass. It was hysterical -- a bathtime escapee! I went and corralled him and took him to the door and I could barely say anything because I was laughing so hard: "Hi, I found this little garden gnome in your front yard." His mother probably couldn't understand me through the giggling. I know that the mom never lets her little kids out in the front yard without her, much less without clothes, so I'm thinking she was giving kid #1 a bath when kid #2 left. I don't think he'll do it again because it didn't look like he was having much fun towards the end there all by himself.

Happily for me, the builder never showed up, thank heavens, and he'll be merrily drunk all weekend on his boat. Whee. I think I'll hook up my icemaker. I found the installation kit in a box of builder trash they left by my fireplace. Lovely.

Temporary Occupancy, good for 5 months!

2008-05-05T19:28:00.000-07:00

I got it Friday! A different inspector came out, and he didn't realize he was supposed to nitpick everything to death (the previous inspector decided on his 3rd visit that the space below the deck railing was too high -- 4.25" instead of 4", so we had to nail up furring strips all around). Builderman expected me to throw my arms around him and kiss him, I'm positive, but instead, I ducked left, grabbed my cell phone and called my BFF to announce the happy news. I then spent the entire weekend doing absolutely nothing. It was glorious.

Unfortunately, the permit is TEMPORARY (5 months), so I still have to be nice to my builder until the real CofO happens. Grrr. I'm busy taking pictures of all the mistakes before I fix them so that I can make a complaint with the department of licensing.

Today, I called Rejuvenation and ordered the parts to my medicine cabinet that the idiot builder lost. The woman was really nice, and I told her the story of the sink in the master bathroom being put in backwards. We had a laugh over it and she said if she had a prize for the worst builder, I'd win. So then I said in hushed tones, "Well, to tell you the truth, he also installed my medicine cabinet upside down." We both cracked up, because it really is funny in a weird sort of way.

So during my last hotel stint (I checked out, then in, then out, then in -- it was exhausting), I got an upgrade to a fancy room. And I got a little help with my knitting:

Friday, the painters came and sealed all my windows with plastic. Then they left. For a long time. They finally showed up today at 3pm, but didn't do much, so the plastic remains. It's creepy.

We're spending time up on the deck, but I'm not sure if we'll be able to do that tomorrow, because the painters claim they'll be back. The pugs love the deck, and Chester really enjoys running back and forth like a maniac when the barn swallows fly too close. That is one habit foster dog Dobby taught him, and it's one habit I wish he hadn't picked up. More about his other bad habits further down.

Today (Monday) began rather eventfully when Marley decided not the chew her food, and choked on it. I always supervise feeding because sometimes the first one done will rudely take over a smaller pugperson's dish (with us it was usually Chester taking Boomer's food -- Marley gives the what-for if someone messes with her food). So, I heard a tiny cough and looked down at her in time to see her topple over sideways like a tipped cow.

I grabbed her around her waist and hoisted her up, head down. I gave a couple squeezes under her ribs and a little shake and boy did a big clod of food come out. I whacked her between her shoulder blades (still holding her upside down) and more food came out. Her tongue was black from lack of air. After all the food got out and her tongue turned pink again, she ate the rest of it like nothing ever happened! All Before Coffee.

I had a landscaper come out and look over my yard. He's going to send a bid for a lawn, sprinkler system, drip irrigation for flower beds and a small paver patio out back with steps up to the garage. The flower beds will be prepped for planting, but I'll do the planting. He looked around and said, "Your yard will be nicer than anyone else's around here when you get done, do you want that?" Way to endear yourself to me! I held my tongue, though and didn't say, "Now hie thee to a dentist and get something done with your teeth, like replace the missing ones!"

Chester's bad habits

Can you believe a dog with such a happy smile could actually be... Chester the Molester? I really have never liked the fact that "Chester" and "Molester" rhyme, but if the shoe fits... In the early evenings I will go out in the back yard and plant some minor little plants. While I'm digging, I'll hear a noise not unlike the mating sounds of a giant tortoise, and there will be neutered Chester humping away on spayed Marley for all he's worth! I get him to stop, turn my back and GRUNT! He's at it again! Continuously! Then he stands there and pants from his exertions. He's a perv.

Then there's this other thing. The peeing thing. Not just peeing, but peeing ON MARLEY. He has to over-mark where she's gone, but he often doesn't wait, so I've trained him (kind of) by yelling, "Chester! Wait for it! Wait for it!... OK." Somtimes it's her fault she's gotten peed on, because he will be piddling and she'll stick her head under to sniff at something on the ground. But the other day, she just looked so pathetic, and somewhat like the athletes in the Gatorade "Is it in you" commercials, what with the yellow pee streaming down her face and getting in her eyes. She sported a golden tear below her left eye. Still, I'm pretty sure it was her own fault she got pee in her eyes, and then she got hosed off in the kitchen sink which didn't make improve her disposition at all. Of course she got a treat for her suffering, but she shunned me the rest of the morning. Poor bedraggled wee mite.

Chester's Good Habits

He is really, for all his piddling, disobedient, wastebasket dumping, climbing on things behavior, a very good boy, especially when travelling. Despite me telling about all the bad things he does, he's actually really quiet and laid back, and he loves me to death. He cuddles with me at night and then he goes and sleeps on his pillow. He comes when he's called a lot of the time, too. He's a very dear boy. I think he knows I saved him from "the itch".

Both pugs now are very attached to me. I like to believe it's not really being needy as much as it's "We have to watch her closely because we don't want to miss another adventure." Those two just love hotels. They take to elevators like they've lived in a New York high-rise all their lives, and of course Chester has mastered the revolving door. Now if only he would stop trying to hump Marley constantly... Of course when I'm messing around in the front yard, I baby-gate the two up on the porch. They hate that, and I think I even heard Marley say, "I don't like jail." in an odd tone of voice.

On Sunday, we went to lunch and there were many little dogs. After begging for quiche, I took them to the dog park where Marley completely ignored the other dogs and wandered off sniffing (she is a bloodhound in a pugsuit). Chester ambled around sniffing butts at every opportunity, but eschewed playing with the other dogs. Happily, both of them were completely exhausted when we got home.

If I wasn't laughing, I'd be sobbing. Hysterically.

2008-04-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

I FINALLY managed to get one of the builder's employees sent out to install my range hood. Here's the result.

Yeah, the cabinet door won't open now.

The builder was supposed to come out today. He called a half hour before he was supposed to show and said he had another project that had to have an engineering inspection, so he was working on that and couldn't come out to work on my house.

I told him I had to have a FINAL inspection, which was probably a bit more important, and he hung up on me. Calling him back, I told him he was on the hook for my hotel bill, and he told me I should just live in my house and no one would know. I told him I wouldn't do that and he had a bizarre temper tantrum, saying over and over again "You are wrong, you are wrong, you are wrong" every time I tried to speak. He threatened to put a lien on my house and then he hung up on me and called the Sheriff trying to say I was residing in my house illegally. The sheriff deputy called me and she was really rude, so I told her I wasn't to talk to her.

I wonder if nonopening cabinets fall under an "implied warranty of habitability"? I did discover that Idaho doesn't really have any contractor licensing requirements other than a name and a fee. Neat, huh? So I emailed my senator and gave him a page full.

OK, since you've read this far, I must reward you all with a large number of photos showing Chester getting used to hotel life. He started out all polite and "can I do this" and ended up splayed all over everywhere. At least he didn't poop in the lobby like Marley did, but all the humping he was attempting was appalling. It's not that kind of a hotel!

So at first, they're quite polite.

Then someone gets really comfy watching TV.

Then he eventually decides the pillows are the best.

And like the guy that he is, he hogs the remote! You should have seen the look I got when I tried to take it from him.

More pillow means more comfortable, right? He's using two here.

Ahhh, perfect.

Did I say sideways? How about upside down?

2008-04-25T17:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since I moved to a hotel. Inspection was supposed to be today, because that day-and-a-half of work my builder had left to do should have been done by now. But it's not. And he didn't tell me there would be no inspection until late this afternoon, when he tried to tell me that all the inspectors were out sick and they were all backed up in that part of city government. I was out with the dogs all day keeping them from getting in the way. Grrr.

So I called the builder and again he wouldn't answer. So I left a message that I was going to call the code inspector (I strongly implied I was RETURNING the inspector's call), and I was going to check back in to the hotel. I also said that I wasn't sure if he knew he would be billed for my hotel stay.

I haven't heard back from the builder, but I have some calls in to a glass place (to get me tempered glass for a window that requires it), and I have to buy a 2x4 to replace a railing (a railing has to be able to fit an average person's hand, and my railing will fit only the largest of NBA players. Can do. I already caulked the bathtub this morning, so what's a railing? It will be an ugly railing, but it will be the right size. A friend of mine volunteered her very handy beau to help and so on Monday I'll have him fix the inside bannister. Or perhaps this weekend I'll trundle over to a building supply place and see if they don't have prefab parts. A bannister has to turn into the wall at the ends so that when you're fleeing a fire or something, your fuzzy bathrobe doesn't get caught and you perish.

At least I have a front walk now -- the cement guys came right out after I started calling around asking for bids. One of them that I called was the place my builder was talking to, and so they came out that day. I got their card. I got the plumber's card (he has a pug, and I sold him on the Furminator by allowing him to try mine on Chester). I know who does the heating and air, and first thing on Monday, I'm going to be at the building department asking for the list of unfinished items that they made (but that builderman won't let anyone see).

What else? Oh, after hounding the guy for days and days, I still don't have any idea what color my bedroom was painted. When I selected paint colors, the builder took the paint chips, never to be seen again. I need to do some touchup.

The master bath is on hold, largely because the sink faucet that I think would be the best is on backorder (but today it was on sale!). Also, I have to figure out how to get rid of the Arial 905 Steam Shower, or find a handyman/builder who can come up with a way to make it work. I wish when I'd sent it back the first time, I'd just gotten a refund like I asked for, but the builder took matters in to his own hands and had them send a new one. So it sits there, dusty, in my master bedroom. Hooray. Not.

Meanwhile, Marley must have been smelling pretty fragrant (read: Marley was filthy), because Chester would not stop, um, mounting her. In the hotel room, in the elevator, in the lobby, here at the house. He was a man on a mission. So she had a bath and hopefully she isn't so rank. She did poop not once, but twice in the hotel lobby, which I find hilarious. She's also been really, really sassy. I think she likes it when a male hotel guest says, "Oh, she's just beautiful" about her when we come off the elevator. That and all the plumbers that were flirting with her. She eats that all up.

Everything Went Sideways in a Hurry

2008-04-18T19:03:00.001-07:00

Amazing how fast things can go wrong.

I'm blogging from a hotel lobby.

That's the story for the day--I think if I didn't have bad karma, I would have no karma at all.

When we last left, I was living in my unfinished house and had a chat with the city inspector. Well, I got a call from my builder (amazing that he called me), who says that a code enforcement officer from the city is going to call me, and I should just tell him I'm "not living in the house, but you're still living there." Huh? Oh, lie to the code guy. Not. I'm too old to play games like that, but it was interesting that the builder never came out and said I should lie--he danced around it.
I went to knitting as usual, and the code guy left a message. I liked his message, largely because he said he thought he had a solution, so I called him back. His idea was that they get started with an inspection right away and I move into a hotel at the builder's expense. I'd had that same idea last night, so I told him he was brilliant. He said he'd call the builder and get back to me. Turns out I was also brilliant in not lying to the code guy, as he has the power to arrest to enforce code. Whee. Getting arrested is not in the list of 1000 things to do before you die, I'm certain.

{Ugh, the hotel lobby pianist is playing a selection of gross tunes. "I love you just the way you are..." blech}

Anyhow, so the code inspector (Scott) calls me back and I met him at the library. Too bad he's married -- he was cute! Resembling the guy on CSI actually, and interestingly he was a former Las Vegas cop. So he has news for me which is, the builder will let me move in with him at his house way out of town in the boondocks. AIIIIIIEEEEEE!

I told him I really would not go for that. Then the accumulation of a crappy week hit and my eyes got drippy. Dang. I did manage to say that I would just go to a hotel, that's what credit cards are for (that and Chester's vet bills), and if the builder wouldn't pay me back, then I'd just take it off of his last invoice.

So I came 7 blocks away and got a room for me and the pugs at the Coeur d'Alene Resort (in the old part, which is not fancy-schmancy).

I brought my digital camera (and I can go back to my house any time to get stuff if I want to). I have some great pictures of Chester relaxing at the hotel. He seems to know what hotel rooms are for when you're with your black beloved, and he keeps humping Marley. He had contained it to the room, but he did try to hump her in the lobby!

The hotel has an automatic revolving door, and I made a video of that (just ignore where I drop Marley on the ground and curse). Chester has that door figured out. He also really enjoys the elevator, which is mirrored on three sides above the handrail. That means there are FOUR MOMS in the elevator, and he can't decide which one to look at. I tried to video that, but it didn't work out. I'll upload those and edit this post later.

EDITED TO ADD:
(Please note, this was hard to do as I was holding my purse, the camera and Marley. Usually Chester isn't so hesitant, but I think he was worried about me)

I had some things go right today!

2008-04-17T16:33:00.000-07:00

I moved in to my house at some point recently. I'm not sure when it was -- a week ago? I haven't hung a calendar yet because I don't know where I want my desk. And because I can't find my calendars. I'm just happy I can find clean underwear in the wreckage.

Despite my builder saying over and over that the house would be done by March 31, and then when that date passed, by April 6, and despite the fact that around April 3 the builder disappeared on a trip to Boise, the house isn't ready. I do have all functioning toilets, and heat, and a shower, but no cooking (microwave and Papa John's are my friends). There's no Certificate of Occupancy, so I'm a squatter. Hah. Truly.

Chester has only peed in the house twice, in the same spot (kitchen), and he peed on the kraft paper that was on the floor because the yard is a mud pit. Marley pooped in the living room once. So the house is initiated in that regard.

Today I got up, went to UHaul, rented a trailer and picked up my last motorcycle from the apartment. That was thing #1 that went right. Now I'm completely out of the apartment. On April 16, I was at the apartment cleaning and realized it was the anniversary of the schmuck's asking for a divorce. I also was a little sad because the apartment was Boomer's last residence, but he did come with me to the house.

I managed to get in a trip to the dump, too, with Chester and Marley, and Chester did NOT jump out of the truck, but I did tell the lady who worked there that he peed in the kitchen and I thought about throwing him in to the pit. She wasn't buying my tale of woe because behind me, Chester was all puckered up to do a "woo woo", but he wasn't making a single sound. So he looked extra cute trying to blow the woman kisses.

When I got home, I found my bedroom curtains had arrived, and they exactly match the bedroom walls. That was amazing, and the next thing that went right.

Then it all went downhill. I was surprised by some city inspector dude while I was out in my back yard cleaning up pug turds. I thought he was there to turn on the natural gas or put a tag on it, but apparently not -- some other thing had to be done first, that my builder didn't schedule. Inspector man was completely horrified that I was living here, because they have to inspect to make sure all my smoke alarms are working, yadda yadda, house is just NOT SAFE. I must look like a complete imbecile because he told me several times that I really can't live here. So I said, "Well, I really can't live in my pickup truck now, can I?" And yet that didn't slow him down, and he said he'd have to have someone come back and tag the house. As IF! But they let people live in the house that was here, when it should have been condemned. Oh, the irony. That little encounter totally stressed out my afternoon, and all concentration went out the window.

Meanwhile, the heating company came back and did whatever test it was so that inspector man can come back and then heating company will hook up the gas to my range. Whee. Then I can have soup! And maybe someday someone will come install my range hood and the remaining part of the countertop. Wouldn't that be great?

The other thing that went right for me was the installation of a deadbolt on the front door. It throws like butter! Very smooth. My tip for getting the bolt and the hole to line up is to liberally coat the end of the bolt with lipstick, close the door, and throw the bolt, stamping the lipstick on the door jamb so you know where to put the hole.

Chester and the Fearsome Tail

2008-04-05T22:01:00.001-07:00

Chester got a new dog toy, a toy dog. He was happily playing with it and then decided the tail was "terror tail"!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Adx_hAbQM58

Meanwhile, Chester got grounded for climbing up on the kitchen counter. Photos of the destruction (this time there was breakage) shortly. After that, he again lulled me into a sense of complacency and whizzed on the couch. Well, actually a lap quilt on the back of the couch, but there was overspray.

Oh, and did I mention he peed on the front of a sweater I was knitting?

Yeah, he's so grounded. For life.

St. Patrick's Day Parade

2008-03-06T15:47:00.001-08:00

Before I talk about the parade, I must take you back in time about a week. That's the time I bought (on sale) some glitter-covered Leprechaun hats. The hats were hermetically sealed in cellophane bags, largely because glitter is forever and a premature release results in sparkly green bits permanently embedded in the carpet.

Stupid me, I figured a non-food item would be safe on a chair while I went out with friends for a few hours. I came back and found out how wrong I was. Chester looked guilty and yet sparkly at the same time, what with the green glitter in his eyebrows. I had forgotten that when Chester was young, he was fed Moist n'Meaty dog food, and even came with a box of the noxious red fake-burger stuff. Mn'M comes in cellophane packages and Chester remembers them well, which isn't surprising since the first ingredient is the same one found in Red Vines: high fructose corn syrup. It really isn't a mystery to me why he's allergic to everything, but I digress.

Luckily the loss was limited to one crunched up hat.

The night before the parade, I was up late making Chester a denim-lined raincoat so that it wouldn't rain on us. Marley wore a little shamrock dress with a new metallic green collar, but she went without a coat since she was in the Popemobile.

For the last 3 years, Inland Northwest Pug Rescue has participated in the Spokane St. Patrick's Day parade. This year, the weather guessers were predicting cold and maybe snow, so the turnout was really measly. Extremely so. Luckily a couple of other people were there, so I didn't have to parade with just Marley and Chester. The luck o'the Irish was with us because it didn't rain or snow on us at all. Once again we got to line up a ways ahead of the Army of DachshundS so we didn't look bad with just 4 pugs--Chester and his three bitches. Those "little long dog" people are serious! They even have a float.

We lined up behind a group of veterans, one of whom was a ringer for Morgan Freeman. Christian Slater (yes, really) was in town filming a movie, and they did a chase scene with him running through the parade floats, which explained why the parade would stop now and then.

For a long time at the start of the parade, Marley wasn't participating at all. She was lying in her carriage so no one could see her, until we got down the hill to downtown, and the crowd saw us and started cheering loudly. That made her sit up so she could gaze upon her public. The other black pug's mom said her pug, Coco, acts the way Marley does, perking up when the pug dress gets put on, and seeing her public. The other little pug was a fawn girl, and no one could tell how she felt about the parade since she was just a hyperactive spaz the whole time.

Chester stuck with the older black ladies, and at one point, he and Coco walked shoulder to shoulder, with the same gait. It was so cute to see their little butts (um, something only a pug owner would understand).

Of course as always, the pugs were a huge hit, especially with the kids.

Flooring Debacle
(Note: bamboo flooring from another place will be installed at my house starting tomorrow, thank heavens)

I used the Lumber Liquidators product review feature to submit a product review to Lumber Liquidators. When you're done it asks if you want to blog your review, so I had it sent here. I don't think it will show up on their site even though their software made me take out the profanity (I said it was crap flooring).

When I bought the flooring, it didn't say "Odd lot" or "rustic" or "irregular" or "created by drunken elves on Friday afternoon" or anything like that. It was just on sale. Well, Homey don't buy rustic, and. They now have the following paragraph: Natural Odd Lot Item Sold As Is. This item is discounted because it did not pass our product inspection. It may have defects including, but not limited to: splits, misgrading, unfinished areas, rough finish and mismilling. No returns, no cancellation...

Since that disclaimer wasn't there at the time, I feel justified in whining, complaining and having Chester fart in their general direction as I leave snide reviews on their website.

Dreadful, beyond odd
By A Dissatisfied Customer from Spokane, WA

1 out of 5
Cons: NOT ADVERTISED as ODD LOT when I purchased it, not all same species, bad all around. Checkboxes: Reqs sanding filling, Requires refinishing, Difficult To Install, Unattractive Finish, Irregular width, Prone to warping

Best Uses: Outhouse, Outdoors where not seen, Barnyard, Garage, Outhouse.

Hah. I felt better afterwards. I had to order some replacement flooring, and LL was not the place to do it -- they told me I could get bamboo within 2 weeks, and when I called 4 days later they said, "Oh, it's being milled now, so that's two weeks from when it's done, so that would be April." The jerks. So I ordered from ifloor.com and they had it at my house within 5 days, because the woman I dealt with had a clue, and checked one of their retail stores for stock, and then sent it from Seattle. The LL guys won't take the floor back and say, that's the problem with buying floor off the web, so "Sell it on Craig's List". I was kind of astonished since it was their website, but whatever.

Knitting
I tried a new yarn from http://www.elann.com/ -- superwash bamboo. It's wool and bamboo and it's nice to knit with. Very soft with a gleam from the bamboo. I finished a sweater, but I think it's too small. Actually I haven't tried it on yet. I always think about it after I'm in my pajamas.

Valentine's "I Love You": a Right Way and a Wrong Way

2008-02-24T11:58:00.000-08:00

Goodies like chocolate, roses, a card, dinner out, or effusive tail-wagging are all the right way to say "I love you" on Valentine's Day. The wrong way is to vomit on your mother's head at 1am. Chester, this means YOU!

He awoke, sat up and prepared to throw up (you all know that sound), but luckily I had read the newspaper in bed and was able to get it under him before anything came out. Sadly, no hairball flew out of his gullet, but he did give it the old college try. Then he settled down for a bit and just as I was falling back asleep, he tried to throw up again (and there went the sports section). After two episodes, the rule is you sleep in the kitchen, which is where I installed Chester and went back to bed.

House news
I got a call from Builderman that THE FLOORING ON THE MAIN FLOOR IS ALL BAD! Aiiiiieeeeeee! I immediately swing into action trying to find the damn email receipt (across 3, count 'em, 3 computers). Find it, pop off a detailed email to Lumber Liquidators customer service and wait. Then Builderman calls back from the job site, "Oh, the flooring is all usable, we checked another box. That must be a bad box." Gee, thanks for the panic (I call it a Friday afternoon box).

Well, it turned out it really was a Friday afternoon load of flooring. The boxes are all clearly stamped "irregular," which is not what I ordered lo these many months ago. So I had to order more floor (bamboo this time) and arrange to get these taken back or eliminated via Craig's List. Argh.

That means progress on the house has stopped until the new flooring arrives maybe next week. The kitchen appliances are all there (AJMadison.com) and I love my refrigerator, truly I do. The bamboo floor in the upstairs is mostly installed by now and it is AWESOME! The vanities for the master bath and the powder room are there (and the upstairs bath because Builderman ordered a cabinet even though I told him about 10 times not to).

The subway tile in the upstairs bathroom is installed around the tub, and the little blue glass accent tiles to arrived from Costco.com. Yes, Costco sells tile! I just ordered some tumbled marble for the fireplace, left, but I'll hire someone else to do my fireplace. Don't tell. Because of the bad flooring, I decided on 2" hex tiles for the laundry room and powder room off the kitchen; those should be arriving today. I had originally wanted tile or some other flooring there, but builderman wanted to do the whole thing in wood. After the flooring was bad, he changed his tune, so I took the opportunity to pay extra and have floor heat installed in the powder room. That way, when I'm gone and have to confine the pugs to the kitchen, they can lie on the memory foam bed on the heated powder room floor.

The garage door opener guy will be by to install my opener, as soon as there is electricity to the garage. Doh! I told them I wanted power out there and finally asked WHY they were running extension cords from the house to the garage. Well now, I guess I'm glad I asked after I was told they hadn't planned on putting power out there. I bit my tongue, but I say that builder has the worst memory on the PLANET. (He drinks too much. Aw heck, call it what it is: he's an alcoholic). And I wish I had Xanax, but at least I have hair dye, so the gray hairs he gives me won't be too obvious.

My Product Recommendations:

Land's End Thermotek fleece -- these are on clearance at local Sears stores, originally retail for $24.50 and are now at least 30% off.
Lightweight and anti-static, they're suitable to wear indoors and will be just fine for spring. I have 5 of them now and the very best thing of all: these things don't hold pug hair! Yes, you read right. I can now go out incognito! Disclaimer: I'm sure you'd get some pug hair stuck in it if you rolled around with your pugs or rubbed them all over you, but for normal activities, these things are great.

Archer Farms (loose leaf) White Tea with Blueberry. Very blueberry tasting. You get it at Target.

Chocoperfection chocolate bars. Expensive as all get out at $3 each, but they're sugar free and yet taste like actual chocolate with really good smooth mouth feel. An additional benefit (drawback?) is they are completely full of fiber, so really if you eat a whole bar, you're going to have, um, digestive issues. Really. Digestive issue experiences leave vivid memories, which helps me not snarf an entire bar down, This also saves money because a bar will last a 3-4 days. Yeah, the memories are that vivid. Thank God pugs can't talk, because I'm sure they were traumatized by the whole experience...

Seapoint Farms Wasabi Edemame. Crunchy edemames that will actually clear your sinuses. I found this at a health food store (when I was seeking Chocoperfection)

Knitpicks Harmony Double Point needles. Very nice and well priced.

Speaking of trauma: A Marley story
I had her in for a dental last Thursday after I pried her jaws open to see what her teeth looked like. Gah! Her breath was horrid and her teeth were the reason why—it looked the the Okefenokee swamp in there. We were both upset by the whole experience. So off she went and had to have 3 teeth pulled out. The vet tech says they kind of fell out, and they left all of Marley's worn down teeth in because those would have required digging out, and they do help keep her tongue in.

When I brought her in, I also let Chester tag along. He loves going to the vet, but why, I have no idea. I really wanted the vet to just lay eyes on Chester to prove to him that yes, for a small portion of time, Chester looks like a normal pug with fur and everything! The vet was most pleased and even palpated Chester's tum, pronouncing that Chester's latest hairball is merely the size of Rhode Island. Since the Great Hairball of 2006 was the size of Alaska, that's a good sign. The vet mentioned that Chester's vomiting may be caused by the hairball shifting and blocking his pyloric valve, which makes Chester feel like barfing.

Meanwhile, Marley's worn incisors don't seem to bother her and missing a few more teeth doesn't matter to her either because she never chews. Right now she's on cough drops (yeah, cough meds in pill form for dogs) and some antibiotics because she was really honking like a goose after the intubation. In fact, she woke me up a couple of times at 2am with that cough, but it was better than being awakened by Chester attempting to puke...

Knitting
When life gives you felted (handknit) socks, make a sock rabbit! This rabbit was formerly a pair of unfortunate socks that felted, even though they were made of superwash (machine washable) yarn, and I never put them in the dryer. They felted anyways, as did another pair, so I actually have 2 sock bunnies. Since I am living in an apartment and most of my crafty stuff is in storage, I had to stuff this particular bunny with leftover fleece scraps from House of Marley. I was going to put dryer lint in it, but then decided that might make Chester think it was edible, so I didn't. Someday I may write a pattern. In the meantime, here is my tip: the best rabbit eyes for this size rabbit are La Petite #735 3/8" buttons.

Next time: Green glitter.

He just can't help himself!

2008-02-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

I brushed this animal with the Furminator today and he actually shed. I cleaned the hair out of the tool and placed the hair neatly on the floor to be photographed. As I reached for the camera, He Who Must Not Obey just could not resist the pile, so I had to hold him by the scruff of the neck and took a picture of him instead of the little hair pile. (And then I fished the hair out of his mouth) Just what is this creature thinking? Other than, "Yum, fur tastes good!" He's not telling.

I got a humorous email about divorce from a friend. She added that she hoped it wouldn't offend me, having been through a divorce myself and all. Well, it didn't offend me, but it reminded me of... a pug story!

About a month ago I went to the vet to pick up Chester's meds (both he and Marley are low thyroid so they take pills every day). With great concern, the receptionist says to me, "How are you doing? Are you OK?" I looked at her and said, "Well, I'm doing good, but you know, I really still miss Boomer because he was such a sunny, happy goofball." She says, "Oh, I meant your divorce! Well, now I KNOW you're doing OK -- you're over him!" It was a good laugh all around. When I donated some clothes to the women's shelter, I told the woman I had been on the "divorce diet" -- I lost 180 pounds of ugly fat, and now I don't have to look at him any more. Hah.

Valentine's Day
Target has several pug cards (check the card section and the Valentine's Day section), and there are some funny ones from Avanti, one of which looks like Chester cuddling with one of his bitches. He's got a new bitch, Ashley, around here. She's a mixed yellow lab and something.

I know he loves me best because sometimes at night, he stretches out on his pillow reaching out to touch me with his paws. He promptly goes back to sleep with his feet on my face. Of course I think feet face is much better than what happened a few nights ago. I woke up and couldn't breathe. When I came to, I realized it was because I was only getting methane, not oxygen, because Chester had spun around and plonked his butt right about on my nose, so my face was under his tail, and boy was he gassy. Ugh. At least my nose wasn't touching his butt.

Caucusing in Idaho and Pantsing the Mannequin

2008-02-05T20:49:00.000-08:00

I don't like to talk about religion or politics here at the blog table, but I do have to briefly mention something. I live in North Idaho. For the rest of the world, those two words conjure up neonazis and it's hard to convince people that we're not really like that. The media didn't help, either. We're also a "red" state, although my part of the state used to be blue up until 10 years ago. Now we have a toe-tapping bathroom lurking senator. It's tough to be known for that, but you know, voter apathy is what helps these kinds of people get elected -- not enough votes for a challenger, and sometimes they can't even field a good challenger. But I digress.

Tonight I attended my county's Super Tuesday Democratic caucus, held at the community college gym. I was wavering on whether or not to go because it snowed again today, but I finally decided I didn't want someone else choosing my candidate for me, so I'd better go just in case. The gym was packed to capacity! Despite cold, snow, wind and general yuck, there was a line to get in, and lots of people were commenting that it was nice to know there were so many like-minded folks out there, of all ages. It was fun -- like cheering for your team, and everyone is so friendly in these parts, so you chat with the people sitting next to you on the bleachers, and it was pretty obvious which candidate had a lot of support.

After the initial vote, it went like this: Joe Biden (yes, there was a Biden table) - zero; Hillary Clinton 209 or so, John Edwards 39, undecided 95 and Barack Obama 900+. Yeah, the young black guy had 4.5 times the votes as the next highest candidate, a woman! In north Idaho!

Each candidate needed 15% of the total votes to get a delegate, so Edwards was out. Then there were going to be impassioned speeches to convince the Edwards and undecided voters (and other waffles) to change candidates. I'm stubborn and knew I wasn't going to change, and wasn't up for hearing impassioned speeches since I was sitting on the steps, so I came home. I did make some good progress on a sock I'm knitting during the whole thing.

Pantsing the Mannequin
Yesterday I stopped by Kohls to see what they had on sale and possibly find a pair of jeans. My favorite jeans keep falling down, so I was hoping to find one size smaller. No luck. In fact, there wasn't even shelf space for my size!

I really didn't want to shop in Juniors for glitter leg faded butt-crack jeans, so I decided to investigate the three mannequins at the front and center Vera Wang display. Surreptitiously I went behind them and pulled the waistbands out hoping to see a size tag (and some shiny mannequin butt). Eureka! One size smaller! On all three of the darn things! But not on the rack. Geez Louise!

So I had to go to the office, and they sent me a woman with a wrench. She unbolted plastic woman #1, undid her pants and yanked them down. I grabbed the jeans and pulled them off the mannequin and went immediately to the checkout. I figured it would be too humilitating to go try them on and find they were too small, so I would just bring them home and then return them if it was a no-go. Besides, the helpful woman had just broken the mannequin's arm off, so it was time for me to go. It turned out the jeans fit great! The only drawback is the denim is a little thin, unlike my normal Levis. I may have to go back and take the pants off the rest of the mannequins.

House progress
Painting is done and they are working on the trim. The appliances are scheduled to be delivered sometime after Wednesday February 6. The kitchen cabinets are in, and some have to be redone because they look inside like I made them. I told the builder and he agreed they were bad. My good friends know how I am with power tools, so when they read this, they will nod sagely and agree it was good to make the builder fix them.

Marley
She had a bath today and now smells like a Fairy Princess instead of a moldy potato. Chester cuddled with her in the smallest dog bed in the house (they're still there, Yin/Yang-ing). It's nice of him to keep her warm with his fat. He is chubby and very soft. I may drag him in to the vet just to show Doc C. that yes, Chester can look good!

Chester's hair will probably start going south around St. Patrick's Day. He usually looks OK for the parade in Spokane, but after that, it's completely downhill.

It's snowing. So I'm knitting and Chester is being bad.

2008-01-22T10:29:00.000-08:00

It has been snowing here for over 24 hours straight. This is really unusual for this area -- usually we get a few hours of snow then it stops. It's the perfect (snow) storm! I'm glad it's snow and not rain. I can deal with snow. This snow is heavy and wet, so it's a pain to shovel. Why am I shoveling when I live in an apartment? Because I'm making paths for Marley. The snow is perfect for making things so I took a plastic container out and made some snow bricks to line Marley's paths. Her eyesight isn't that great, and I'm convinced she gets snow blind when everything is white, so she gets lost and it's pathetic to watch her try to navigate through snow and ice. I would have made more bricks, but my "inner pugmom" called me in because my toes were getting cold, and my hat and sweater were getting wet. I made myself a cup of Archer Farms White Tea with Blueberry. You get it at Target, and it's really good.

After shoveling paths for Marley, Sadie (Chester's GF) came by. I let him out and immediately ran in to get the camera. The snow is as deep as Chester is tall, but he desperately wanted to run after Sadie, who teased him by running up to him then running off. The game ended when all the dogs decided it would be more fun in my apartment. A couple of wet and cold pugs are an entirely different thing than two wet pugs and a wet golden retriever!

Bad Karma and Bad Chester
Last week I started experiencing some bad karma. Saturday, I woke up and went to let the pugs out and my heavy gas barbecue was lying on its face. I thought "What kind of weird vandalism is that?" but there were no tracks in the snow. Then I was caught with a large gust of icy cold wind. The wind had blown my barbecue over! The plastic barbecue sauce holder broke, but I don't ever use it, so no problem there. I'm always amazed at just what air can do.

So I righted the barbecue and went on with my day. Later, Chester had to go out, so I supervised from the door. I turned my back for 2 seconds to close my laptop and looked back and saw he had eaten a frozen Marley turd. "Fudgsicle, mom!" I made him come inside and he did his usual penitent look.

Later that evening, I was sitting on the couch with the heathen when he started to make those sounds. Pug owners know the sounds. The "I'm gonna explode!" sounds. He then barfed, but I managed to shove a quilt under his front so at least he didn't puke on my new couch. But still, I had a mess that I knew contained Marley turd. Ugh. Let me just say there was a lot of bleach and Lysol and hand washing going on.

After my busy evening, I was plumb tired so I went to bed. I put on my pjs and thought, "Shoot, it smells like dog pee, where did Chester go?" Just then, my flannel jammie pants stuck to my leg. Aieeeee! Chester had peed on my pajamas! And he missed and nailed my brand new memory foam pillow! Or he had good aim... There was another spot on the comforter, so I had to strip the bed. I only partially remade it (just my side) and went to sleep.

The next morning, I marveled at the fact that my mattress was still pristine white despite living with Chester and other pugs for years now. I went into the laundry room to begin the laundry and returned and the Fat Fink had gone and whizzed on the mattress! Blotting and bleach removed the stain and I rotated the mattress so the area was on the side I don't sleep on. Unfortunately, the next day I got the bright idea to drip vanilla extract on the spot, and now there are some brown spots on the mattress.

I needed some good karma! Bigtime! So I emailed my friend and had her remind me to go to the women's shelter with the bags of too-big clothes I'd been accumulating in my garage. Until they were open, I stayed away from driving, glassware and sharp knives. After my donation, I think my karma began to improve.

Dog Laundry Day
Perhaps the Chester behavior was caused by my doing the dog laundry. See how these poor dogs have no snuggly blankets on their beds? Only wool mats. Poor dears. Pugs actually do have some instincts, which are largely related to eating and comfort, and they knew that the wool pads would be warm, so they both plonked on them. What goofy creatures they are. And I'm sure Chester held this suffering in his pea-brain until it was time to whiz on my bed.

Knitting
I'm designing an overly complicated mitten right now. I bought a full-length down coat from Lands End on sale/clearance. Only one color was on sale, a berry purpley pink, but I didn't care, since it was warm and $50 off. I've gotten several positive comments on the coat, though, and I was asked if I made my hat when I was at Target. The woman was a knitter and we got to chatting -- she had said to her friend, "That woman knit her hat!" and her friend said, "No, she bought it, nobody knits any more." Hah! I had just finished a hat and some mittens, and was wearing the mittens, but they didn't match the coat.

I managed to complete a sweater and adapt it to make the pugs each a coordinating one (the photo at the beginning of the blog shows them in their sweaters). Just in the nick of time, I'm thinking.

On the right is a hat and mittens set, from 2 different books by 2 different people. The hat is from "Hats On!" by Charlene Schurch, and the mittens are from "Marvelous Mittens" by Anna Zilboorg. It's a Turkish pattern. These mittens always get comments. The fact that they're "stranded" (2 colors with one not in use carried behind), makes them double thick. The fact that I knit them on much smaller needles than I'd normally use for this yarn also makes them dense, so they're warm. Best of all, they're superwash, so if need be, I can put them in the washing machine.
I was going to start knitting some "transitional weather" items, for cool spring days, but with this weather, I'm starting a turtleneck!

Do Not Tip The Concierge by Peeing on the Bed

2007-12-29T10:08:00.000-08:00

It started the other day. Chester was out in the snow and refused to even acknowledge me when I called him to come. So I marched over to where he was and ruthlessly grabbed him by the scruff, turned him around and marched him home yelling at him all the way. He slunk in the apartment and went to his bed, casting me those Chester looks out of his wall-eye.

I forgot yet again with whom I was dealing.

So last night, around 12:30, when I went in to bed, there was pee. Very neatly on my side of the bed. Yeah, I have one side, the pugs have the other. It wasn't on their side. It's just Chester's way of tipping me. After all my revolving door concierge service I've provided, that is the thanks I get.

This morning when I got up and went to put on my fuzzy pink bathrobe, which had also been on the bed, well, you guessed it. He had peed on that as well.

Chester's hair is growing in! At last! Some hair until it all falls out again! He feels like a puppy. And he's rather happy that he doesn't have to wear a sweater in the house. Marley doesn't care one way or another -- Chester still gives off enough body heat to suit her fine. He doesn't seem to mind either, because he doesn't move when she tells him "Hey! Shove over!" as you can see here. Notice that he hasn't even budged.

Knitting
I knit a hat last night while Chester was off peeing on my bed. It's the Norwegian Earflap hat from Hats On! by Charlotte Schurch. Knitters, if you don't have this book, get it now -- mine is dated 1999, so they may stop printing it and you'll be sorry. It will sit quietly on your shelf until you need it, honest.

I knit this particular hat once before when I just learned to knit, but the yarn has mohair in it, and I'm convinced that mohair makes me itch. I have a panne velvet lining all made for the itchy hat, but it's not sewn in. Hence I felt it would be easier to just knit a new hat. (No, I really don't think that way -- it was just an excuse to buy more yarn, which by way of justification was on a 25% off sale.). This hat has many cool things going for it: nifty short row earflaps that make themselves automatically, and a hem that knits up so you don't sew it and really cool top decreases. Also, the pattern is easy with no long floats to fiddle with. This one is made out of Sublime Cashmere Merino Silk Aran or something like that, which I believe means it's machine washable. I love that yarn, it's like buttah. I love my new hat, which I haven't blocked, and probably won't because I am wearing it right now.

In another bit of news, the Happy Sock Yarn Fairy interceded on my behalf with the sock gremlins, resulting in a Christmas Eve return of the second ball of sock yarn. I have finally figured out that my self patterning sock yarn is all to be made into "quick socks" which means plain foot and 2x2 rib leg. That way I can save my analysis paralysis for the handpainted sock yarns and yet still manage to make new pairs of socks.

The builder's Christmas present socks are almost completed. I'm sort of hoping that I can imbue them with the "boyfriend sweater curse" and cure him of having the hots for me. He's just not my type whatsoever, and I really don't want to have to knit him an entire sweater to make him "dump" me.

Meanwhile, I am suffering from second mitten syndrome. I have several singletons which is completely idiotic. What happens is I start knitting the thing and say to myself, "I don't like this" (for whatever reason) so I finish it or rip it out and then start something I think I'll like better. Like the hat. I even have a pair of mittens that are complete, but true to my problem, only one of them is lined!

Mittengate
OK, here's my previously-mentioned true story of intrigue (and copyright). I've learned the hard way that if you write something down that could be construed as a pattern, don't be giving it to a yarn store owner unless it's all neatly typeset (you know what I mean) and says "copyright" and "for personal use only" all over it. Heck, even that is no guarantee: one of our LYS is making photocopies of a hugely popular pattern from a small merino house and selling it with some other company's yarn. In the mind of the yarn shop owner, it's OK, because the merino house didn't respond to their inquiries for kits which then needed ASAP. Besides, the pattern was only available as a kit with merino house yarn (it has since been added to the merino house website as a pattern for just $5).

You'd think that whomever comes up with a novel and swell pattern would be able to profit from it, right?

Just the other day, I was loaning a pal a mitten book and when a different LYS owner saw the book and I said, "It's out of print" the LYS owner responded with, "Great! That means we can copy the patterns and teach classes!" I was on my way out the door and like a complete chicken didn't say anything. This same person seems to think that if you change a pattern by 10%, it's a new pattern, and she charged a friend of mine 50 cents for a photocopy of a pattern that I'd written -- an easy lacy scarf.

Ahem! I knew there was a reason why I closely guard my House of Marley sweater patterns, some of which I've even written down with charts and everything.

All this thing about mittens happened after I'd taught a class on basic mittens with a lining. I was inspired to write my own pattern by some articles in a knitting magazine, plus I didn't happen to know of a mitten pattern other than something out of a book (Knitter's Handy Guide to Patterns by Ann Budd is really awesome and everyknitter should have it.). I spent hours writing that stupid pattern for the class. I spent more hours testing it. A happy byproduct: I discovered a great way to get all your students to attend all the class sessions is to only give them a page of the pattern at a time.

The class was hugely popular (it had 6 students when I specified a max of 4), and since people only knit mittens after it actually snows, there's demand for more mitten classes.

Meanwhile the LYS owner approached me to teach a mitten class December 21. It wasn't much notice, and I was kind of blindsided by the query. I asked how many people and they said "four". Fine. Then she said, "It's a family." OK, whatever. And then "Can you teach the second session on December 24?" Well, no, the students will need a week to complete their "homework" and besides, it was Christmas Eve. Unbeknownst to me, the "family" was her and her sons and husband (and a fiance, making five, not four, as I discovered later). Two days later, a third party overheard the LYS owner telling another one of her teachers that if I couldn't teach the entire mitten class, they would just get my pattern from me and the other teacher could teach the rest of the class.

Why do I put up with this? Because I thought it would be nice to have a little extra money. But have I mentioned I haven't gotten paid for teaching the first class? And that the LYS owner kept trying to get me to agree to be paid in a gift certificate, not money. Yes, I am that stupid. Or even more so: I'm supposed to teach this class again starting January 21.

So there you have it, Mittengate! Next time, everyone will be required to have the Knitter's Handy Book of Patterns. Fooey.

Ending on a happy note, these are an actual pair of completed mittens. They are part of a set with a matching hat made out of Zitron. They were machine washable up until the time I put in an angora lining. But what price hand warmth, I ask?

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-24T14:44:00.001-08:00

The most commonly used letter in the English language

2007-12-23T14:13:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of Rathdrum Mountain taken in "my" back yard here at the apartments.

I am convinced, without even Googling, that the most common letter in the English alphabet is the letter "e". I am certain of this fact after the "e" key on my laptop (which was always loose) fell off permanently. I haven't even paid off the laptop! You never know how much you use the letter "e" until you don't have it. Luckily one of my friends has offered me a loaner, and school's out for the semester. I still have to back up my machine (a lot like pulling teeth), but then I can send my Dell in for a fix.

Other strange things are going on in these parts -- my yarn gremlins returned some yarn to me, but took another ball of sock yarn as a replacement. Unfortunately, I'd already knit the first sock with the other ball of that yarn, so I'm second-sockless.

I know what some of you may be thinking, and Chester did not eat the yarn. He only eats yarn footzles (the little trimmings at the end). He has developed another new bad habit, though: peeing on Marley's head. I am starting to hold her partially responsible, because she just stands there and continues to sniff while Chester pees on her ear. He also pees over her pee spot before she's finished, which causes him to pee on her back leg. Twice one morning I had to put her in the sink and hose her head off! I just gave her a bath the other day. She's clean and sassy and feelin' groovy, so she leaped off the bed this morning, scaring me half to death as she took a header into my bookshelf. Luckily, the shelf she smashed her face into was full of winter sweaters, so she wasn't hurt, only sheepish. Hah! Later in the day, I watched in horror as Chester tried to pee on Sadie while she was peeing. Bad dog!

Chester has taken to either pining for his girlfriends or staring at his reflection. I think it's a combination of both, and found him behind the vertical blinds moaning softly. He also continues to sit in front of the heat vent, so he's drying his skin out, but I ordered a giant bottle of salmon oil which should help. Santa gave him an early Christmas present in the form of fur, which is slowly growing back and is at puppy length right now. Sadly, the Krampus is coming since Chester was naughty all year, and Chester be getting a Christmas bath for his bad behavior. (That's from my Austrian heritage side. You think Santa is scary? Hum. Krampus is way more terrifying!)

Both of the pugs have cleverly figured out that when they come inside, they get a treat (a piece of kibble). So they like to go out. And come back in. Then go out again, ad infinitum. Marley is particularly annoying with this. Pugs really aren't dumb, but you have to know what motivates them. In my case, both are highly motivated by food so out and in they go.

For those of you clamoring for a pic of the house, here's the front (so far). The big blank spot below the main floor window is the basement and it's framed for a window already, so someday I will add that and the house won't look so weird. Any suggestions for camoflage are appreciated. Trees or shrubs are out because there will be a window there, and who wants to block an east window? Not me! There is now a blue tarp over the entire front (oh how very north Idaho of me) so they can run a heater and put down some really crazy cool epoxy on the upstairs deck. The deck was my friend JL's idea, but she can't remember that, so I'm insisting she take credit. So she does. The deck will be lovely for coffee, croissants and knitting in the mornings. And maybe I'll even stock up on some Mardi Gras beads because it will be perfect for flinging them at hapless Ironman triathletes or polar bear swim participants going by. Whatever. "Show me your spandex!"

My latest knitting obsession is mittens, since yarn gremlins are stealing my sock yarn and all my mittens are filthy dirty. I like mittens. I like to line them with angora. Or alpaca, or whatever. I taught a class at my LYS in knitting mittens, which was fun, and I'm slated to teach it again. Unfortunately, during the first class, I wrote and made copies of an original pattern, and now I think I'm going to have to use a pattern in a book (and require all the students to have the book). So, the Stupid Mitten Debacle will be next time.

Chester Gets Into It

2007-12-09T10:01:00.000-08:00

Chester, who wears a house sweater during these cold days, decided to make sure I'd really emptied the bag of dog food. He began by getting the empty bag off the counter, while Marley "tattled." Actually in this case, she was talking to Chester, telling him if he didn't share, she'd let me know. Do click on this photo, it will take you to a video of this episode since I had the camera handy. Or click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9kJV3OcX2c

I know that Chester is in need of some training. Duh! He won't come when I call unless he wants to (isn't that just like a pug?), so he runs off to Sadie's apartment now and then. I really don't like chasing after him in the freezing cold, wearing my pink bathrobe and flannel jammies. Just the other day he led me in a merry chase around the building, pooping here and there along the way (it was really strange). Indoors, he will amble off when I'm in the middle of something and I catch him looking for dust bunnies or licking the carpet. Something has to be done, because from time to time he has hair breath (he smells like the back end of a hair dryer)

Well, girlfriend number 3, Brazzle the pit bull, and her sidekick Duce, the "Toy Poo-tese" have um, shock collars. The owner says they work great, and it doesn't seem to phase either of her dogs. BUT WAIT! I really don't want to shock my dear tender pug into obeying. I am really susceptible to static all winter long and I don't like it, I can't imagine doing something like that (or worse) to my puggy's neck. Besides, he's kind of hairless there, which might be extra painful or something.

So I did a Web search, and found that they make "pager" collars that vibrate or beep. Wahoo! Chester now has a pager, and bitches! And the pager hasn't made a whit of difference, but kibble in my pocket and cold weather seems to work to get him to come back to the apartment.

His favorite places are in front of the heat vent (I finally put a dog bed in front of it, and sometimes you can even find Marley in it), or by the slider, waiting for his girlfriends. Actually, I think he's just admiring his reflection, because he usually sits there after dark. He's not terribly aware of what he looks like, so when he reviews his YouTube videos, he tries to sniff the screen whenever there's a pug butt shot.

Both pugs went to the vet for a T-4 test (thyroid) and for Chester to have his abdomen palpated. Boy did he moan and groan about that; the vet said, "He sure feels doughy." Yeah, my worst fears are realized; he's growing another hairball. As you can see, though, he's still eating (and pooping) regularly, so there's no big concern unless he starts having repeated diarrhea or vomiting.

My friend Judy did some research and I think I'm going to try papaya on him as it contains an enzyme that maybe will break down some of the hair wad. One of my neighbors is in pharmacy school and she suggested that stuff that people take to clean out before a colonoscopy. Unfortunately, Chester's hairball is a compact wad, so I'm not sure if I can flush it out. It has to be dissolved. Right now he's on his monthly detox so he's getting homemade turkey soup for a few days (and nothing else).

When I made the soup, Marley spent the entire afternoon randomly yapping. Translated, she was saying, "I want some soup." In the early stages, it was hard to convince her it was just turkey water and not yet soup.

The soup came from the carcass of the turkey breast I made on Thanksgiving. I had a nice time with the pugs and plenty of leftovers. Each pug got a slice of turkey and some gravy, which then put Chester into a "turkey coma." He spent the evening groaning and cuddling with me. The next morning, he stood up and promptly barfed on my bed. What a guy.

The Furminator
I went to Seattle for a party at the home of one of my best friends. It was very fun and great to see everyone. She also gave me a great tip: a Furminator. It's a dog comb/stripping tool, and it gets that nasty dead undercoat off Marley like you would not believe! It works so well you can actually touch her and not come away coated with black hair.

Upon arriving at my friend's house, Marley did what she always does when we go there -- pooped in the middle of the kitchen. My friend and I have decided that's how Marley says, "I love you, Auntie!" Whatever works, right? While Marley was busy marking the kitchen, Chester vanished into the guest room of "the poodles". The poodles, being normal canids, get free choice of food, and they had a large quantity of it in their dish since two of the poodles are large. I knew Chester could eat fast, but it's amazing how he can suck when he hears you coming. Truly amazing. That night, he and Marley managed to replace all the air in the room with methane, so I didn't sleep very well.

The party was great fun. I'm not sure how much fun the pugs had it, as they were all relegated to the "pug room" when they'd really rather be mingling with the 90 or so people that were there. Imagine the begging! Dear heavens, it's for Chester's own safety that he's sequestered with a sign on the door that says, "Don't feed the pugs!"

When I was coming home from my friend's house, Snoqualmie Pass was closed unless you had chains. I had chains with me, but I have Renaud's Syndrome, so I didn't want to get out of my pickup in a snowstorm and chain up. Instead I spent my time shopping (Trader Joe's, everyone go to their website and suggest they open a store in Coeur d'Alene or Post Falls! Please!). I bought chocolate covered soybeans (an acquired taste, but once you get used to them, they're addictive). I also bought some gluten-free gingersnaps thinking that when I ate them I could actually share them with Chester and Marley. Unfortunately for them I ate the entire bag over 3 days and didn't share.

While I was shopping, I came across the Humane Society of Seattle/King County's pet photos with Santa! They stopped doing that a few years back because it was too expensive, so I had to start taking the pugs to the mall, which was truly a hassle. Well, the HS is back! The photos are in front of a green screen, so they can add a background of your choosing! Neato! I have photos going back to 1987, and I have memories of good times when I get the pictures out and decorate with them. There's a story behind each photo, and a sad story in between years sometimes when one pug isn't in the photo any more.

Eventually the pass was opened to all-wheel-drive vehicles, so we continued home.

Yarn Gremlins
I have yarn gremlins! They take yarn and hide it. Or they eat it, or something. They're particularly fond of sock yarn. I just know I bought a 100g ball of sock yarn from Harmony a while back. I am sure I put it in the knitting basket in the living room, but now that yarn is nowhere to be found! Then, I had some other sock yarn that I had wound into a center pull ball, and now that has disappeared. I found its friend, which is still in the skein, but I sure would like both of them. I can't even blame Chester on this as he's uninterested in raw yarn (knitted objects are another thing entirely).

Meanwhile, I finished an actual sweater. It's in the sewing-up stage. I had to make shorter sleeves because I used a discontinued yarn from my stash and there wasn't enough for long sleeves. But do make a note -- I actually used yarn from my stash! While you are noting things, make sure you note that sock yarn doesn't count as stash. One of my friends is trying to expand that to lace yarn as well, but I'm not a believer, largely because I have a lot more sock yarn than I have lace yarn.

Speaking of socks, I've finished a few more pairs. I call them "quickie" socks because if I just make a plain sock, I can get them done rather quickly. I also managed to finish lining a pair of mittens with Louisa Harding Kimono Angora. Nice and warm!

House progress
It's progressing! And maybe I'll tell you about the argument I had with the builder. I call it the "Front Door Debacle." Why he thought the woman with Renaud's Syndrome (he knows this) would want a feezing cold metal door is beyond me. Why he didn't ask what kind of door I wanted is also a mystery. It remains to be seen if he's going to remember to paint the exterior the correct color (and how they can paint in 20 degree weather is beyond me, but he insists there is paint that will work in cold temps). Needless to say, the house is up. It's roofed and sided. The electrician was there. The windows are even in. It's going to be really neat -- and very different than what was there before.

First kiss! And a Sign of the Apocalypse?

2007-11-05T09:58:00.000-08:00

The other evening, Sadie came by the slider. I let Chester and Marley out, of course, and Chester actually chased Sadie around for a while. I suspect Sadie was feeling really happy since her mom was home from a vacation. It was really cute to watch Chester and hear his grunty noises as he ran after "his" blonde. As we were getting ready to go back inside (the moms were freezing), Sadie went up to Chester and LICKED HIS FACE! Several times! A kiss! He was stunned for a bit, then he licked back a little. It was cute. Then he'd had enough and we went in. Since then, when she goes outside, she first checks my slider to see if Chester can come out. (This is a picture of them, see how coy she looks?)

Marley doesn't seem to care. She may be relieved.

My friend Ami takes wonderful photographs, and here are her recent pictures of Chester: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sourcherries/sets/72157601822783462/

She kindly had a print made of one of them, and it's on my fridge. The other morning I walked in (before coffee, mind you) and looked at it and thought, "That pug in the postcard really looks like Chester." Doh!

Sign of the Apocalypse

Marley is not a clingy pug. If you let her out, she wanders off, sniffing, oblivious to everything else. That's what she was doing when I first met her; she didn't give a whit about me or the other pugs around, she was off sniffing. Not exactly social. Boomer was the social one and it was always cute to watch the old people wandering around doing their "dog stuff" together.

It follows that Marley isn't exactly what you'd call cuddly, either. Our sleeping arrangements consist of her at the far corner of the bed on her down comforter, with Chester sleeping mashed up against me, under the covers until he farts so much he can't breathe. The other night, when Marley left her microfiber-covered down blanket and came up to the head of the bed where Chester normally is, I thought the world was going to end the next morning. Especially when Chester looked at Marley and went to where she normally sleeps. And that's how it was all night, she slept next to me.

The world didn't end, and the next night things were back to normal.

You all are probably wondering...

2007-10-26T14:13:00.000-07:00

Just what has Chester been up to?

Well, I made the mistake of tossing a box of Pasta Barilla lasagna noodles in the box with the canned goods when I moved. Actually, that wasn't the mistake, the mistake was forgetting that I had done this.

Yes, Chester had his WAY with the box of pasta. He even said to himself, "Boy, these sure are dry—I'd better get a sip of water." I know this because there were noodle crumbs in the water dish, as well as glued to the underside of his lips. Oh, and don't think he really looks penitent in the picture. That's an act. He's being his same old bad dog self, but now it cheers me up. He's lost a lot of hair again and it's been almost a year since the hairball removal. He hasn't had any more seizures, but he still goes around a licks the carpeting, so he is consuming hair. Luckily he hasn't been able to get any of my long hair from the bathroom wastebasket. Knock wood!

Chester is also being helpful around the apartment. As you can see here, he is helping me with the laundry and bedmaking. Chez says, "As you can see, I have made it into a bed, so on to the next chore, you!"

Chester has not one, but THREE girlfriends now; Marley, of course, plus Sadie the golden retriever upstairs (his blonde girlfriend), and Brazzle the pit bull (his bodybuilder girlfriend). He also thinks Sadie's owner is pretty nice too, and sometimes runs right past Sadie and up the stairs to check for Sadie's mom.

The doggie relationships aren't one-sided on Chester's part, let me tell you. His girlfriends actually come calling! They show up on the grass beyond my patio (I have my patio ex-penned off), and they look in the sliding glass door to see if Chester can come out. It's hysterical. He trots around like he's all that. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks he's the building manager the way he checks on everyone and everything.

Marley is overcoming her depression that Boomer is gone. She enjoys reading my email with me from her spot on my lap and going outside to do her "dog stuff" which involves a lot of sniffing around. She also likes going for short walks and longer rides in the pug stroller, and she can get pretty insistent about going on an excursion when she sees that the weather is nice. We've been having a nice fall, so she gets a walk/ride almost every day.

Knitting
I finished a vest. I don't like the yarn, Silke-Tweed, but I do like the color (just like denim) and how the front of the vest looks. So there's that. I'm working on another vest, and of course socks. Always socks. I read somewhere that sock yarn doesn't count as part of your yarn stash, for which I am grateful! I'm also teaching 6 people to knit mittens, which is rather... interesting.

The little house
There's a foundation there now and framing will start next week! The garage builders are supposed to be there to pour the slab for my pole/steel building that will be the garage. I can't wait; my new upstairs neighbors are noisy (lots of thumping around, like a herd of wildebeests) and they toss cigarette butts overboard from their deck. I hope my builder get on it; that way I can vacate my storage unit and that will save me some money each month.

I have to save money because next semester, I'm going to become a full time student at North Idaho College. Yes, I'm adding to my Bachelor's and Master's degrees, and now I'm going for... an Associate's degree! If I think I'm confused now, I just have to wait until next term. Perhaps in the future, I'll go for a PhD just to annoy my friends. Luckily, I get out of having to take any more math, my weakness, but apparently I have to take speech! Sigh. I can test out of "Beginning Windows" and "keyboarding" plus I can probably test out of English grammar. I hope so, as that will save me time that I can spend taking more electives! School is really different when you're, um, older, because you're actually interested in the subject matter, unlike when you were younger and you just wanted to get on with grownup life.

I want to thank everyone again who gave me condolences on the loss of Boomer. It meant a lot. My vet sent me a nice bouquet and a condolence card signed by everyone who works at the clinic. They all loved Boomer, because he was such a nice boy. He didn't howl or bark or bite, he just wagged his tail a lot no matter what you had to do to him. The goofball. In the picture, the flowers are on top of the box of Boomer's ashes. When Marley dies, she will go in with Boomer, as they were the "little old people." I had a hard time unloading the last batch of pictures from my camera, because there were some of Boomer's last day, so I did a move and left the vicinity while my laptop did its work. I'm glad I have lots of pictures of Boomer, but I miss him as my House of Marley male model! Chester just doesn't have the modeling chops of Boomer and Marley.

I will reopen House of Marley totally. Someday. Right now all my stuff is in the storage unit, and I just don't want to rummage around in there for fabric and thread, etc.

It's final

2007-10-11T14:44:00.000-07:00

I'm finally divorced. The threats of jail and of leaving me penniless are over with; because of them I had to settle. So I'm consoling myself with chocolate, and the knowledge that I have really awesome friends one and all. I'm also feeling a bit sorry for my ex-husband, who is probably angry at what little I did get in the settlement. Now I have to convince my builder to please come back (he got a nastygram from husband's attorney).

I mourn the loss of Boomer more than the loss of my marriage. I think Marley is also feeling the pain of loss, too. Chester doesn't cuddle with her like Boomer did, so she's a bit lonely. Boomer and Marley truly were the little old people, and I believe they were sweeties. Of course if you asked her how she felt while Boomer was alive, she would have denied it, but I think she'd agree now, so I give her extra love and cuddling. The way she is, though, if you ask her how she feels about me cuddling her, she'd probably say, "It's icky."

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes about Boomer. He definitely is in a better place, but I still miss him terribly. He was a sunny, happy little dude.

With A Heavy Heart, I Said Goodbye To My Buddy.

2007-10-06T11:30:00.000-07:00

When last I wrote, my little house had to be torn down since the foundation was inadequate to support the house that was there (8 feet of foundation were missing; the home inspector failed to mention that). My house that I lived in was sold, and due to a clerical error, I had about 10 days to find a place to live that would take me and the pugs, and then I had to move out by September 19. I managed to find a small 2-bedroom apartment that took pets, and moved in September 15 after I lied and said I only had 2 pugs. No one will rent to you if you have 3 dogs. Most of my stuff is in a storage unit, and unfortunately, the movers put most of the House of Marley inventory in the back and on the bottom, so I've had to close shop.

During the packing and moving, I started having fainting spells when I stood up, so I had to go to the doctor, and she adjusted the dose of one of my meds, which helped a little. I lost 10 more pounds during the move. Whee.

Boomer really loved the apartment because it's carpeted and of course a single story, so he was easily able to get around. Marley really enjoys the new "pug TV" in the form of a sliding glass door with a view out the back. Chester really loves the fact that I'm slow to unpack, and that's a story for another time.

I'm convinced that STBX' attorney won't let him negotiate a settlement, so on my birthday, I got to have a court hearing, and a midterm. Then my attorney and I met with their side, and still, there is no good faith negotiating. STBX wants it all. And even if I get half the house, he wants a part of the money that I get. I'll probably end up in bankruptcy court, but on the bright side, I did pretty well on that midterm!

STBX has decided to file a complaint against me for contempt of court, because I used the joint account to pay to have the little house torn down. Oddly, the bank called him to ask if he made the charge, and he didn't put a hold on it -- when I called the bank, they said the charge went through. STBX attorney was really rude during our meeting, and he can't seem to look anyone in the eye. It's creepy. When I complained that STBX has the checkbooks and won't let me access them, STBX said I could just use the credit cards associated with the accounts. I told him my apartments only take checks, and his lawyer said, "Why don't you start spending your OWN money?" Like I have any. I had a large, venting hissy fit right then and there. I'm in school for heaven's sake, so I can get a job that pays more than $5 and hour, but it's not like once you've been out of the computer industry for 10 years, you can just go back. I can just see the job interview: "You have a large gap in your employment history. Were you in a coma?"

I stupidly thought I was married until we got old and died. In fact, I used to tell STBX that I didn't want him to predecease me, and becaue of my heart problems and so forth, I thought I'd pass away first. I also thought we were financially secure; we had IRAs and STBX and I were going to get a reverse mortgage on our house. Now that's all gone. It's quite daunting and scary.

On top of all this, Boomer couldn't keep food down. At first I thought it was solid food, so I went and bought him a lot of baby food which he loved (and wores on his chin). Chester tried to clean Boomer's chin and Boomer attacked him. Unfortunately, after a few days, Boomer couldn't even keep that down. He was at the vet overnight because he was dehydrated, and they were hopeful this was just Irritable Bowel Syndrome. But even after steroids and antibiotics he'd still throw up. So he was going to starve to death or choke to death on vomit. The vet thought he'd keep Boomer another night, but I decided to bring him home. The next morning, Boomer felt really good, so I canceled his final vet appointment (the vet was going to come to the apartment). Unfortunately, despite a great Friday morning, Boomer started vomiting again. This morning, I sent my little Baby Boomer Old Man Puppy Boy to the rainbow bridge.

His passing was ultra peaceful, but I've lost the pug that gave kisses. The pug that wanted to be on my lap or somehow touching me all the time. The pug who hoped I could make him feel better. I guess I did, in a way. They asked if I wanted to keep his sweater, but I said no. He wore it last Christmas in the photos with Santa. I didn't want to see it, or his blanket I made him. Now I feel ill and very quite depressed.

Boom was still alert and happy, except when he was vomiting. He'd lick on Chester and Marley and just the other day, he played tug of war with Chester and Boomer's toy duck, Roger. Chester let him win, like always.

Oddly, Wednesday morning before I took Boomer to the vet for overnight, Marley didn't yap for her breakfast because she saw I was tending to Boomer. Instead, she came and inspected Boomer carefully. She knew. In fact, after he died, she came in and inspected him carefully again. I wish we could have fixd him, but he was so decrepit. Damn. He was still so full of love and pug spit, and gave kisses until he went away. He was the best boy ever. He always came when called, didn't potty in the house, didn't run away, loved everyone and was gracious with every foster pug I ever had. He was afraid of heights and loud noises. He was truly a wonderful little dog.

It's enough to make me want to stay in bed with the covers over my head. I can't though, I have another court date on October 9th both for the divorce and for contempt of court charges the STBX has brought. Plus there's one more midterm, and assignments to read and complete, papers to write, rent to pay.

I really wish Boomer had been able to stay.

A Boomer report, and Chester story!

2007-09-10T07:40:00.000-07:00

Saturday's News of Old Man Puppy Boy
When I went in to the vet Saturday morning, I got the little guy to eat some and then he started moaning, which he does sometimes to indicate he has to go out. It was a nice sunny day, so they unhooked Boomer from his IV and let me take him out to sit on the grass. I picked a nice spot, and sitting on the grass is something Boomer really loves to do. In fact he loved it so much he got a... well... red rocket? Pink lipstick? Erection?
We are not sure why he was feeling better, because he only had an exploratory surgery, he wasn't "repaired" in any way. The vet has seen that happen before, though, where an animal improves. I decided that Boomer's intestines just needed some air and a massage.

After my visit, I went right to the grocery store for a roasted chicken and some vegetables to make chicken soup for Boomer. I read on an IBS (irritable bowel syndrom) group that fennel, peppermint, chamomile and ginger are good for your digestion, so I picked up some all-natural chamomile tea and some peppermint tea. The peppermint I grow is recovering from neglect so there isn't enough of it yet to make tea. I did put some fennel in the soup, but will save the tea for when Boomer comes home.

While making the soup, Marley installed herself in the kitchen on a small rug where she could see the stove. She loves homemade soup, too, and knows when I roast a chicken there will be soup the next day. She made it clear she wanted soup through repeated yapping.

When I went back to the vet in the afternoon, I gave Boomer some soup and he just loved it. He looked quite bright eyed and he wanted to come home, but the vet and I thought it was best he stay, so I left the soup with the vet and joked that he could eat it except that it had dog tongue in it. You can see Boomer eating some of the prescription dog food here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nfXVnGGe7k

A Chester Tale
NOTE: This event has been reenacted. No people or animals were harmed during the taking of these photos.

The other night I was cold, so I decided to take a bath. I confined Chester to the bathroom with me for his own safety. I sunk down into the tub and heard grunting (Chester is a talker) so I peeped up over the edge of the tub and saw Chester standing in the shower. He just stood and stared at me, and after a minute or so, he clawed on the open shower door like he wanted out. So I told him he could come out because the door was open, but instead he just sat and stared at me.

I sunk down into the tub again and waited, then peeped over the edge to see Chester still sitting in the shower. I cut my bath short and asked if he needed to go potty and got a definite "yes" response as he barrelled down the stairs. I let him out and did he ever go pee. So I think he was trying to use the shower door as the door to outside and play charades to get me to let him out. Poor guy, I think he thinks I'm dumb and hard to train!

Why I think Chester does NOT have separation anxiety
I was outside with the pugs yesterday putting a load of stuff into my pickup truck for a run to my storage unit. I left the kitchen door open, told them to stay (Marley was sitting in the sun, so she really wasn't going anywhere) and I went down the alley to get some tomatoes from my neighbor. I'll miss that. It is an annual thing -- he plants a lot of tomatoes and lets the neighborhood ladies pick them.

I kept looking over my shoulder expecting Chester to appear. He didn't. When I got back home, Marley hadn't budged, but Chester was nowhere, so I called. I whistled. I yelled, worried that he'd gone looking for me around the garage. Nope. He came rocketing out of the house!

Given a choice between anxiously finding me or having a hootenanny overturning a wastebasket in the house, Chester chooses the wastebasket! He doesn't have separation anxiety, he has separation mischief!

Who says dogs don't have facial expressions?
This series of pictures was taken because Chester was doing something funny or cute. Of course he immediately stopped doing whatever it was when I turned the camera on, but I tried anyways. Another funny thing in these pictures is how motionless Boomer is! He freezes on the spot when the camera comes out.

Monday's late news: Boomer is home!
He's peeing on his own and walking. But he looks terrible. He drinks a lot of water (and soup), and he burps a lot as though he were going to throw up. You pug owners know that pugs burp fairly often, usually right in your face. Well, Boomer gets a concerned look on his face when this happens and starts licking like it was a wet burp. He also sat up a couple of times last night and panted, which means he's in pain for some reason.

Even better!
The biopsy results came back, and Boomer's angry intestines are great and cancer-free. So the thinking is that Boomer had a foreign body that has passed. Of course this means I get to perform the great poo hunt, because I want to know what the heck he ate. I do know tonight I gave him some baby food that was refrigerated, and when he stopped eating he stood and shivered! I picked up his dish and set him outside in the sun and all was well. Poor dude -- I'll be sure to warm his meals in the microwave until he's back to normal. He's still wet burping, and sometimes bubbles come out his nose. Too bad I can't explain the Neti pot concept to him.

Knitted scarf
I just made an Iris Schreier/Artyarns scarf out of Noro Tidiori. Believe it or not, all the yarn is the same colorway! I don't think I'd use that yarn for garments, because it had about 4 knots in each ball (I used 4 balls). I left the knots in, and you can't tell since it's all garter stitch! I talked to a friend who made one of these scarves in a different color, and she said the yarn was knotty and she just left the knots in as well. So there you go. I really like how the scarf turned out; I added the dangles.

I also finished a little vest out of Sirdar Snuggly Baby Bamboo, and gave that to a friend to try on her little boy. That yarn knits up quite nicely, is machine washable, and hopefully has enough wool in it so that it doesn't overdrape. Bamboo is pretty drapey. I'm currently working on a vest for myself, which I'm hoping to finish before my court date so I can wear it to court. I figure it may actually happen since I changed the back to be stockinette stitch (so that's done) plus it doesn't have sleeves, and the pattern is interesting.

Boomer is ailing (UPDATE at bottom)

2007-09-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, the story about Chester has been put on the back burner, as I have some distressing news about my Old Man Puppy Boy.

I don't write about Boomer much because he's very laid back and very good: he doesn't potty in the house, he doesn't climb on stuff, he comes when he's called and he doesn't bark much. Boomie is 11 years old and is getting decrepit. Prematurely, I think. He has a bad spine and bad hips, but he's not in pain, and he INSISTS on walking instead of riding in the doggie stroller. Sometimes I humor him for a little ways. When I was planning my remodel of the little house I bought, I planned on a main floor master so I wouldn't have to carry Boomer up and down the stairs. I was also planning the landscaping so that he'd have a shady patch of grass to lie in (he loves that).

The other thing about Boomer is he's a total flirt. He knows the difference between women and men, and he likes blonde women, which is funny because I'm not blonde and never have been. Boomer's a chick magnet, too, and in the salad days of his youth, I let my single male friends walk him to meet girls. Many a phone number was gathered under false pretenses. One of the saddest days of Boomer's life was when they instituted parking permits in my neighborhood, and the college girls could no longer park here. He loved to follow them down the sidewalk until they turned and said, "Oh, you're so CUTE!" For a while, he thought his name was "Cute".

The other night, Boomer started throwing up. I didn't think much about it, but the next afternoon, when I tried to feed Boomer some chicken, and he refused, I knew he was sick. A pug that refuses people food is a sick pug. So off we went to the vet.

Boomer was installed in our private cage at the vet (the one that says "Chester" over it and has gold leaf detailing and velvet curtains) and IVed and x-rayed. The x-rays were rather vague, so yesterday I took Boomer to Spokane to get an ultrasound, and it was determined that he has a blockage of some sort.

In my mind, I thought "Well, I guess he's going to have surgery to remove a hairball." In the vet's mind was a thought that didn't even occur to me: "This dog is 11 years old and his spine and hips look awful, should we put him through this?" I hate it when reality intrudes into my world. I was able to take Boomer home for the night and he slept on the bed with me while the other 2 heathens got crated. Today at noon, Boomer is going to have surgery. If the blockage turns out to be a tumor, they won't wake my old man puppy boy up.

Just what I need. I feel like I jinxed him, because the apartment I have to move in to (now that I have no house) will only take 2 pets. Ahem. So I planned on "pet-sitting" one of them. STBX suggested I just tell them about Marley and Chester, because I'm most likely to be heard screaming "Chester, NO!" and not screaming "Boomer" because Boomer never does anything wrong. So maybe Boomer is trying to "help" me. Not very realistic, but still, I can't help but think...

So please -- think good thoughts for Boomer, who is the best dog ever.

UPDATE! UPDATE!

Thanks everyone for the Boomer thoughts! An hour and a half after the scheduled surgery time, I couldn't stand it so I called the vet. The receptionist said Dr. L was just finishing up with Boomer's surgery. "Finishing?" I asked. "As in closing up?" The receptionist said, "Yes." Needing clarification, I added, "As in, not removing Boomer from life support?" and she said, "Yes! He did really well! The doctor is going to want to call you." So Boomer didn't have a tumor. but that's all I know. The vet hasn't called me yet. Hopefully, Boomer won't have to stay the weekend, because he will do better here at home. But HOORAY! He's not dead! And I may have sold a sofa and a loveseat to cover the ultrasound bill. Whew.

The Little House that Was, News

2007-08-24T15:17:00.000-07:00

So, the mousie infested house is no more. It had dead birds in the wall, a dead cat in the crawl space, and no actual foundation, only a footer. There were other things too, like the rot beneath the walls, lack of insulation, the roof that was caving in, and the walls that were bowing out. So here's before:

This is the view "during" -- one of the guys is releasing the chain that was holding the side walls together (there are supports, too, but those were iffy):

Here's the YouTube movie of the action! I can't believe I caught it, and did such a nice job of panning. I am most pleased with myself.

And this is the aftermath:

Neighbors keep walking by and telling the crew how happy they are that the little house is gone. Instead of hitting everyone up for $5 each to help me pay for all this, the guys are telling people that the new house will be painted the same awful color, with high visibility green trim.

I have some new Chester stories (he plays charades!), and some knitting pics for next time.

Today's bad day really began yesterday (a Chester story)...

2007-08-07T18:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had to return a faucet that was the wrong finish. Since it was my feeding time and I was in the neighborhood, I stopped by the natural foods store for a sandwich before I trekked to Spokane. I only found one sandwich that didn't have "veg-anaise" on it (I don't like mayonnaise, so veg-anaise doesn't particularly thrill me, either), My choice was a hummus, sprouts, avocado, tomato and mustard on really grainy brown bread. The sandwich wasn't terribly large, so that was an added plus. It was truly delicious.

Unfortunately, the hummus was really garlicky, and I was about to have to deal with a hapless clerk to make my return. So I stopped in at 7-11 and bought some Orbitz sugarless gum. I proceeded to stuff my face with gum, and I think during my shopping trip, I consumed about 5-6 sticks of the stuff.

After completing my errands, I returned home and put my purse on the cabinet in my room.

Fast forward to early morning: Marley got off her chaise lounge. I got up from bed and put her back, but she got off again, so I sleepily realized she was going to pee with or without me so I got out of bed. I let the pugs out and fed them breakfast, then we came back up so I could take a shower. Halfway through my shower, Boomer joined Chester in the dog bed, and after a bit, Chester got up and walked off. I figured he didn't want to share a bed, so he was just going to the other dog bed in the laundry room.

Well, I was wrong.

Instead, Chester went into my room and over to the cabinet. Standing on his hind tippy-toes, he pulled on the doily, dropping things around him until my purse hit him on the head (at least I hope it hit him in the head). He stopped before my Fiestaware bud vase toppled off and turned his attention to my partially-zipped-up purse.

When I came in after my shower, I found purse contents and discovered that he'd managed to open my purse. I was alarmed when I saw the package of gum and only 2 wrappers. I grabbed the gum package and checked to see if it had one ingredient in particular: xylitol. Xylitol can be deadly to dogs because their system thinks xylitol is sugar, so it makes insulin, but the insulin doesn't bind to the xylitol like it does to sugar. So all the loose insulin binds to the dog's blood sugar, and then more insulin gets produced and on and on until the dog gets lethargic and his or her liver finally fails. There was the dreaded ingredient in tiny print, so I stood there and immediately dialed my vet. After I told them I was completely unable to make Chester throw up (he just burps no matter how much hydrogen peroxide I give him) they told me to bring him in right away.

By the time most pet owners see their dog acting listless, it's too late, but I'd practically caught Mr. Bad Dog Chester in the act.

The first thing my vet asked was, "Are you sure he ate all the gum?" I nearly died laughing! A pug, not finishing something to eat? Hah! They made Chester throw up several times (and apparently a good amount of dust bunny came out), and he is spending the night with a glucose IV.

What a dog. Boomer and Marley had a great day because they got all the attention. I took them in their stroller and we went to the coffee shop where Boomer got to French kiss a friend of mine. We met a couple who had a Brussels Griffon, and I think in my old age when I'm unable to lift a pug, a Brussels will be the dog I get.

Knitting News

I'm working on a mitered scarf (and Iris Schrier of Artyarns pattern) out of Noro Tidiori, and I'm also attempting to enroll in North Idaho College, which starts August 27. I'd like to get a paralegal certificate so I can get a J-O-B after the divorce, and I'm hoping they'll let me enroll. I talked to admissions and apparently even if you graduated from college a bazillion years ago, they still want a transcript! So I'm a bit behind their deadline. Everyone make a note of this: always do your best in school, or it may haunt you someday.

I also knit a fantastic pug sweater with beads for House of Marley. It's a bright teal wool, very nice.

And -- in order to help pay Chester's vet bill (the vet suggested I get health insurance for Chester as it would probably be worth the money), I will be teaching a class in how to make a felted Chester. Personally I think Chester should teach the class and pay for his own bills, and I did try to trade him for that delightful Brussels (named Eddie), but after Eddie's mom heard the tale of Chester she refused. I can't say I blame her. In the mean time, I did sell a felted Chester to a friend, but she thinks I didn't charge her enough.

Oh dear me!

2007-07-26T11:39:00.000-07:00

"One of your friends, who has never even met me, felt so sorry for what you were saying about me that I was told to take a look at your blog."

Hah! I can not believe STBX, who said that, hasn't been reading my blog all along, but there you are. STBX was also asked not to tell me who that person was (gee, how mature to involve yourself in someone's divorce and ask to remain anonymous). I know who told him, and I also know that now that we're getting divorced, I really don't care what STBX thinks.

Now, instead of trying to keep me here by preventing me from getting a mortgage and forcing me to decimate my retirement account to get a place to live, STBX has changed his tune and wants me to move out. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen, because the retirement account would have been what I'd have used to actually fix my house foundation, put a normal working bathroom and a working kitchen in my house. Instead, I'm mortgageless and cashless and have to sit around and wait here in the same house with STBX until I get some kind of court-ordered divorce settlement, since it doesn't seem that mediation is going very well at all.

Gotta love your "friends," dontcha?

I did it!

2007-07-11T10:57:00.000-07:00

In all its teeny glory, 24'x24' with an enclosed back area that's 8'x18' for approximately 720 square feet of living space. The mousies think it's palatial, even though they've confined themselves to the kitchen drawers.

The wood floors under the really manky disgusting carpet were painted a lovely shade of Pepto Bismol pink. Someone should get a spanking for that. Especially for continuing it to the living room.

Everyone who sees this bathroom says the same thing I did when I first saw it: "That's the smallest bathtub I've ever seen!"

It really is. It's not even 4 feet long, and I'm pretty sure Chester would just laugh if I tried to give him a bath in it. It certainly wouldn't hold him for very long. And there's no way I could plonk all three in for simultaneous bathing. This bathroom is better suited to be a closet.

Then there was this peninsula between the kitchen and living room. It didn't have enough overhang to sit at, so it was just more counter space, I guess. I yanked the top off and discovered two things: one, the paneling is some sort of tongue and groove particle board that's fairly thick, and two, there is a light paperboard "wallpaper" underneath. I'm thinking that's vintage 1920's el-cheapo wall and wallpaper in one.

The other thing is that the living room ceiling is tiles that are also made from particle board. It's probably all hazardous to human health.

Chester and Boomer and Marley, Oh my!

2007-07-04T13:50:00.000-07:00

I never did see George. But I know someone's brother saw Lance and Mark Wahlberg of all people. A friend of mine saw a parade of yellow Ferraris go up 4th, who knows what that was about.

So, here's the winner and the second place guy. The winner is Ukrainian, and passed the second place guy on mile 24 of the marathon, then went to pull out a minute-long lead (I think). Man, that has got to be tough. But the winner looked spry and sprightly coming down to the finish.

Even though I didn't see GeorgeBradLanceMarkSamuelL, I did meet several pug owners while hauling Chester around town. Then I got a little depressed because I'm once again going to have to leave my prized garden and start over after the divorce. All my roses were in bloom and it was lovely.

Speaking of Chester, he's learned a new trick. Now when we go to Bella Rose, he jumps on the table as I come out the door. It's horrifying. Of course I always have the prized quiche, so it's hard to get Chester off the table. I'm learning. He's done this twice now to my complete embarassment. He also continues to "bury" bones in the house, and is shown here after sticking one between my bedpillows. If he stares at it, the bone will not move, and of course no one will notice it. As if anyone else even wanted the thing.

The second table standing event was on Chez' 5th birthday on July 3. I can't believe he's lived this long given the decrepit state of his immune system and his strange eating habits. I'm glad he has, though, because he makes me laugh. While we were at Bella Rose, we watched a parade in Chester's honor! Actually it was the annual Coeur d'Alene Fourth of July Kiddie Parade, held the day before the "main" parade. I now plan to attend with Chester each year, because it was a hoot to watch.

He had to go in for a dental last Friday because he broke a tooth. Bigtime. They had to dig it out, so Chester has stitches in his gums. He came home and was totally stoned out of his gourd, poor baby. I had to rescue him from the car when a huge windstorm blew in (and I was at the realtor's office). Major hail and rain and wind and lots of downed trees! In fact, IM didn't go out on the deck and put the sun umbrella down, so it snapped in two. He didn't care, I'm sure, as I was the one who bought the umbrella. IM was also lucky because 2 large tree limbs broke off our maple tree and landed right next to his car. Some people have all the luck.

I finally broke down and bought one of those baby carriage things for dogs so the old people can use it. The only drawbacks are the handle, which I don't think is long enough, and it could use better wheels. Other than those things, I'm loving it, as are the old people, who now get to come to Bella Rose with me and Chester. Of course Marley screeches when I leave to go get in line, that's because she's a fairy princess and can not have her entourage leave her for TWO SECONDS to get a coffee. Actually she may be putting in her order, or protesting the fact that she's stuck in a carriage with a smelly fawn boy.

Knitting
Sister socks completed. I knit one top down, the other toe up, both with heel flap heels. Bubble dot reverse socks are also done (they were done this way because I only had one skein of the Koigue). I started another sock out of Shibui (pink), but the pattern looked gross, so I decided to switch to something else that's working out OK so far. It seems to me that pink sock yarn (petal pink, not raging hot pink) screams to be knit into some sort of lacey pattern. I am not alone in my opinion.

Estonian Garden wrap out of Trenna that I bought from LittleKnits: finally completed and blocked and on display at my LYS so we can see what the recipient says of it when she comes knitting. If she notices it. Her shower is next Sunday, and I'm nervous. I hope she likes it. Heck, I hope she wears it at her wedding. Is it worthy?

Ethereal Fichu in Sea Silk: I don't like the edges. They look like heck. I ripped it out and started on the Scottish Thistle stole from some Anne I've had before that colorway was popular. I sure wish I knew what to do with that Sea Silk though. I'm thinking Evening in Eden?

I also got my Kauni rainbow yarn for another imaginary cardigan. The colors are not what you'd call "bright", but they're nice. It will look good on an adult. It's an adult rainbow. I also fished out a UFO tank from "Wick" and will be finishing that up right quick (no sleeves, you know). I hope I don't run out of yarn. I had to order more because several of the skeins were very knotty (5 -6 knots each), but I don't know where all the yarn is due to my impending divorce/move.

Divorce
The husband got a PO box a while back, and so the property tax assessment went to his PO box at the beginning of June, and he didn't say anything. I found out from others that the assessments were out, so I went to the county offices and discovered that our house assessed at greatly more than what his appraiser said our house is worth.

My husband won't say who referred him to that particular appraiser, but he paid 3x the going rate for a house appraisal. Interesting, huh? I'm 99.9% sure it was his attorney. STBX said he "didn't shop around."

STBX also refuses to sign a quitclaim deed on my little house, which was a lender requirement. So my loan (as my sole and separate property) fell through. I don't know what to do, but I have until the 10th to pay or lose my earnest money. I subsequently told him I'd block his attempt to protest the tax assessment (a higher assessment works in my favor). The fact is, STBX won't help me in any way shape or form, and I'm sure that's all attorney-driven. That's because the attorney doesn't have to live with me. Heh. Actually, living with me isn't so bad -- I keep to myself and certainly don't come home at 1am with a drunk buddy and turn the stereo on loud. IM did that last week, and I totally regret not calling the cops. Next time.

Meanwhile, STBX has purchased a little hand held tape recorder, like what you dictate notes into. We found out in court during the status conference that it's not illegal in Idaho to tape conversations without the other person's knowledge. So now I start every conversation with, "Are you taping this?" Court was a waste of time, all I did was sit there. Same with STBX. We did get a court date, get this, in OCTOBER! STBX' attorney didn't like that. He wanted NOVEMBER! And TWO DAYS! We are going to mediation on the 19th. I doubt that will help, but at least the attorneys won't be there, which may mean some progress. In my opinion, the STBX attorney is what the roadblock is.

I have decided not to move out because I don't want to make it seem like I've abandoned any interest in our house. Besides, where I'm at has air conditioning and a normal bathroom. It's getting hot around here, so the pugs ought to appreciate what I must suffer through.

Ironman Coeur d'Alene 2007

2007-06-24T18:43:00.000-07:00

The day before Ironman Sunday, I had the ubiquitous Chester with me while I was trying to take this picture. A gazillion people stopped to chat about and pet him, yet none asked why I was so weird as to A. Be packing a partially knitted sock in my purse, or B. Why I was photographing same at the Ironman finish line. It's probably for the best, because it's a long story.

Rumor (from LYS2) had it that not only was Lance Armstrong around here, but he's buddies with Matthew McConaughey, so Matthew was lurking. Matthew is friendly with George Clooney, who was apparently also around. It was totally true old Lance was about, as I know that the owner of Vertical Earth went mountain biking with him. It is also confirmed that as far as bicycling of any type goes, Lance is "an animal." Nothing new there, though.

So I spent most of my day-before-Ironman dragging poor Chester around as "bait" on my search for George Clooney. I think half the world laid hands on Chester, or talked to me about him. Unfortunately, it was fruitless and I decided it was such a nice day for golf (except still a little windy; the swimmers this morning had to fight super choppy waters). Don't think Chester wasn't handsomely rewarded for his efforts -- I stopped at Bella Rose and bought Chester a hard boiled egg. That was funny in itself.

Anyhow, it is confirmed that the famous peeps are staying south of here at a ranch that I refuse to publicize, because they don't treat their employees well, and apparently the developer of the ranch area (they're selling homesites that they call "homesteads") is a jerk.

It's super windy today (Sunday the 24th), as you can see by the flag on the kayak. I had to bring a sweater for Chester and he was still shivering, as was the little puglet who was behind us. She was being held by mom and both were wrapped in a blanket. The full rescue armada including scuba divers is out. And this year, they did something I haven't noticed before -- they started the elite group out in the water. First finisher took about an hour (they have to do 2 laps) judging from the amount of cheers. I will really miss this after the divorce, living in this neighborhood.

And now, in my continuing efforts to stalk George and bolstered by a cup of coffee, I am out again with my camera. I do this for you, my readers. So check back for more photos later or on Monday.

Will the Real Chester Please Stand Up?

2007-06-19T18:04:00.000-07:00

I was starting to think my dear Chester had become possessed by an angel, but I needn't have worried.

First, he opened a bag of sugar in the kitchen (a tiny bag, of the size that you get when you have a coupon for "free sugar"). He, Boomer and Marley shared and proceeded to make the kitchen floor sticky with a mixture of pug spit and granulated white sweetness.

When I came home, STBX said, "Yeah, that's why the kitchen floor is sticky." How adult of him to wipe up the floor.

I packed some cookbooks in a moving box in our walk in pantry and noticed that the box lid was on the floor. I just put it down to STBX checking the box to make sure I wasn't stealing his stuff. After I replaced the lid and had to go out. When I came back, STBX told me that he'd heard plastic crinkling. He ignored the sound for a while, but it was persistent. STBX checked the kitchen and caught Chester standing on his hind legs on the box, pawing at a bag of Costco snack mix on the counter.

Chester is nowadays eyeing his crate, which is next to the TV stand. When I confiscate Chester's chewies (he only gets them for a short while otherwise he devours them) they go on top of my TV. Chester is trying to judge the distance to see if he can reach them from atop his crate. What Chester may or may not have figured out is that he can't reach the chewies, and if he tries, the first thing that will come down with a loud crash is a small surround sound speaker.

Yesterday, Chester and I went to Bella Rose so that I could check out the Ironman triathletes that were all practicing in a major headwind and chop on the lake. Chester politely waited at the table while I got my quiche, and when I returned, he proceeded to climb ON THE TABLE so that he could eat.

He's gotten an idea that he's a goat.

I tried to give him another idea, with a single "Chester! Off!" He ignored me. Now "dog on outdoor cafe table" is an emergency, but I couldn't set the quiche down because Chester also is a pig, and he would have just grabbed a mouthful of quiche as I removd him from the table. So, flinging my purse down and balancing the quiche in one hand, I grabbed the back of Chester's harness like a handle and dumped him in the chair. Of course by then there was an audience, including three kids, so I turned to them and said, "A dog on the table is never a good thing." So much for witty repartee.

Rose Petal Jelly
Last week I went out and picked a bunch of my roses and made jelly out of the petals. Unfortunately for me, the recipe contains sugar which I'm supposed to cut back on, yet I'm a person who will eat jam or jelly right from the jar. So I've been handing it out to friends.

I also tried a sugar free recipe using Splenda, however it didn't set up like I wanted (although if you refrigerate it, that helps). It's also not as sweet as I'd like, and my neighbor tells me she always has to double the amount of Splenda.

Then I tried a recipe using yellow roses and it tastes different. Hard to describe, but not the same as the pink. I do love the pink, though -- the color, by the way, is all natural! I think that was the best part. BTW, the lumps in it are additional rose petals.
My kitchen assistants, as you can see, approved.

People tell me the jelly is really delicious on toasted English muffins, and that the best way to get a husband to eat and say he likes it is to just not tell them what it is. My STBX wasn't offered any. That's the breaks.

Knitting
I finally got a picture of a little sweater from a Phildar book. I made it out of Queensland Collection "Hyacinth", a cotton/rayon (maybe?). It's an interesting texture with little slubs here and there, and the color is really cute. I embellished the sweater with some I-cord and leaves.

I finally managed to take a picture of the sample sock for my stripe dying class that I taught a couple of months ago. I call it "Gaudet". It's very garish and ugly, but the folks at the LYS say people love to colors. Ugh. The orange stripe is orange Kool Aid with some brown dabbed in here and there as flecks.

Then there's the shop felted Chester with his sock yarn sweater. He has a friend, whom someone wanted me to make as a gift, but then she never came and bought it. I really need to bring the second one home (it has a hand-dyed yarn sweater). Meanwhile, one of the employees at the shop thinks I should teach a class becaue FC is so popular. Unfortunately, Felted Chesters take darn near forever to make, therefore they are not worth selling, nor would it be pleasant to teach. Heh. I am keeping all the Chesters for myself.

I am also making great progress on the Estonian Garden out of Trenna from Little Knits. I'm making the wrap for a friend who is getting married at the end of August. I thought her bridal shower was going to be on July 24, but just recently found out it's July 15. I have one more border to do, and it's a pain because instead of the nupps, I'm knitting in amber chips (she's a redhead and loves amber). The amber chips won't stay put, so I have to manually futz them into place. Not to mention having to thread the buggers on! I had an idea about it: I want to get the LYS to hang the finished object in the window like it's on display. My friend can oogle it and then be surprised when it's suddenly hers (and I hope delighted).

Divorce News
(especially for my friend JL, who thinks this is much jucier than Chester tales)
Henceforth, STBX shall now have a new acronym: IM, which stands for "Idiot Man". The other day I used the downstairs bathroom ("his" bathroom) and when I came out I mentioned that I was glad he got a toilet paper upgrade. Well, he says, I got it from the upstairs bathroom. That would be my bathroom. So he's using the toilet paper that I have to spend my time getting. Same with the laundry soap, and the lunch meat. No wonder he doesn't want to move out or have me move out -- I buy supplies for him!

This morning, I was blasted awake at 1am by loud stereo, coming from my own house. So I snuck downstairs and snuck down the hall (since I was in my t-shirt and underwear). There were feet and legs in the recliner that didn't belong to IM. That gave me a near heart attack, as I hadn't seen IM anywhere. So I turned and sprinted back upstairs and locked the bedroom door and almost called 911. Instead I dialed IM. "Oh, it's just me and my friend and we're listening to music," he said. Yeah, and drinking, which they'd probably done for quite some time, after he'd finished CATALOGING HIS CARTOONS ONTO DVDS! Oh yes, that's what the 44 year old IM spends his time doing while I mow the lawn (or shop for toilet paper).

I asked him politely to please turn it down, which didn't happen. So during a lull in the noise I went to the top of the stairs and yelled down, asking again. I got a "whatever" and then I think the party ended. Nothing like a bitchy upstairs tenant to ruin a party!

The lack of sleep is making me feel quite stressed and ill. I couldn't take a sleeping pill last night because the more you take these particular ones, the more you need the next time (higher dose), so I like to take time off from the pills, which also keeps me from running out of them!

IM is phoning realtors to shop for a "contingency house" in case he can't keep this one. Finally, a small bit of reality intruded into his brain! And if he thinks I don't know about his PO box, he's got another think coming. There will be more news on this next week, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, tomorrow is Ironman, and I have a post about that (as I do each year). There will be a sock photo...

It's all a learning experience

2007-06-11T14:04:00.000-07:00

I learned that if I go to Costco and buy their one-ton size of cherries and I eat a good number of them, I have about an hour and a half that I can work in the yard before I have to sprint inside.

I've also recently learned that if you give a pug too much mineral oil, said pug will not have an explosion of diarhhea as one might expect, but said pug will, um, leak mineral oil out their bum and leave oil spots on whatever they sit on. then you have to shampoo their hinder because no amount of wiping fixes the problem.

These are good things to know.

Chester
Last week we went to town and stopped at a store called Sweet Pea Home Furnishings. Chester loves to go out and about, and I love walking with him because he sets a fast-enough pace that I can lose weight! Besides, he's got this hysterical gait that makes everyone laugh when he's coming at them.

Well, Chester spied himself in a mirror that was on the floor leaning against a table. He didn't know what to make of it. I mean, how could there be another pug as handsome as he is? So he looked behind the mirror and ended up completely confused.

When then went to our LYS and the owner owner told me about some little monster toys they had at our Local Toy Shop. Our toy shop is really neat. Figpickles is a tiny place, but always full of people. I figured Chester would like to go, so off we went. There were some furry dancing marionettes in the window, and Chester stood on his hind legs for a better view. Their jerky movements fascinated him; I'm sure he wanted to run in and kill them. We went in and there was another thing made of wood ramps for marbles to roll down and around. Chester was fascinated by that, also. Then we got to the toy monsters, which are called "Little Uglys". Chester immediately put one in his mouth, so I told him I'd buy it for him (only right, since it had pugspit on it). We left and went home and now Chester is completely uninterested in his monster.

He's such a little boy.

Just yesterday I walked Chester to our favorite coffee shop where they have outdoor tables. As we came to the table, a construction guy's crated Lab went ballistic in the bed of the guy's truck. Chester ignored it. When we got to our table, there was a man with an Australian Shepherd at the next table. The Aussie and Chester saw each other. I told Chester "up" to get onto a chair and told him "I'll be right back" as I walked about 10 feet to the coffee shop door. Chester stood up on the chair, and the man with the Aussie turned to watch as I pointed the "finger of doom" at Chester and said, "Sit your butt down right now." The man laughed because it's common knowledge that no pug is going to obey someone 10 feet away. I mumbled something about "I'll share my quiche," and lo and behold, Chester SAT! I laughed, and said, "Ah! I have dominion over the beast!" and the guy laughed and I had to say, "No, really -- he sat!" The guy looked and was amazed.

So I went in and stood in line and got my coffee and Chester's quiche (ham and cheddar is his favorite; he despises the spinach quiche). Chester remained seated the entire time I was gone! I know this for a fact, because he has a high "awww, cute" factor and the employees were watching him. Chester got half of the quiche.

Chez is pretty easily trained, once he figures things out. It's the trying to get him to figure things out that's hard. Now if only Boomer would revisit the concept of "leave it". He keeps licking Chester incessantly and I'll tell Boomer to stop, which he now thinks means "stop for just a second". Finally Chester and Boomer had a dust-up over it (how stupid do you have to be to keep licking someone who is growling at you?). Chester was in the right, so Boomer got crated first, then Chester since neither of them stopped when I said "leave it. Finally it seems like he's licking Chester a bit less (sometimes he diverts to Marley, much to her disgust).

Now if I could get the dust bunnies to growl at Chester, maybe he'd get the idea not to lick them?

Knitting
A friend's 18-month old got sick and was hospitalized for about 6 days. Turned out he had salmonella, so I told her he has GOT to stop licking turtles and lizards, and choosing the eggs for her in the grocery store. She was not amused. While the wee boo was in the hospital, I knit what I now call "Domo Arigato Leftover Sock Yarn Roboto" for him. It's a pattern I made up and turns out to be a great use for all those stupid annoying wads of sock yarn I have left over. And it was the perfect size for a little kid (washable, too). When I visited the little guy in the hospital and handed him the robot, he took it and kissed it! Too cute! Another friend knit a pig, and now the little boy plays with both, making the robot ride the pig. If only his mother would send a picture.

I'm also finishing a pair of socks out of Regia Bamboo. That's not bad yarn at all. These are totally plain socks because I tired of the pattern-choosing analysis paralysis that inevitably happens to me. I commented on the Yarn Harlot's blog that I would finish the socks in honor of her birthday.

Divorce news
After making my realtor drag me around to every crummy house in town, I finally found one that although it was crummy, was in a great location and had great potential (and wood floors as it turns out). So I made an offer which was accepted (the STBX, the "S" now standing for "someday", will sign a quitclaim deed after the divorce). The STBX said he'd let me use the joint account to make the down payment. We have an court order not to spend large sums of money without written approval from the spouse.

Then STBX rushed to his lawyer, all excited, because now he thinks he has leverage, and he wanted to go on the annual vacation we take in July. So he and his lawyer drew up a really lame divorce offer. Really lame. In fact, they had a $1500 appraiser out who totally lowballed the house. but were "generously" going to give me half the low equity. I didn't even need to talk to my attorney, I simply told my husband I wasn't going to accept his offer because it wasn't fair and was a rip-off. He then had one of his tantrums and told me first that his lawyer had a precedent in a case "just like ours" so the wife got nothing, and secondly that "You are going to lose the little house, because I am not going to authorize the down payment from the joint account."

So essentially, he wants me to continue to live here?! There went his vaca, because we have an appointment with a mediator a week into the vacation. I just remained calm and told him I wasn't worried about it, which really set him off into a door-slamming event. Whee. I put the pugs in my room and left to go knitting with sane people.

I am pondering what to counter with. He never wanted me to work because then I wouldn't be available to go off and "have fun" with him. Of course his idea of fun and my idea didn't match up -- he wanted to go motorcycle racing and have me there to cook meals and provide moral support and then sleep alone in the motorhome in the driveway while he was up until 3am at some after party. Anything I counter with is going to cause another tantrum.

In the meantime, I made rose jelly. Too bad it's not on my diet; it's really delicious (next time!)

Good dog... Chester?

2007-05-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

I took Marley around on the scooter on Thursday, which to her is a perfect day. Sunny, warm, and she got treats at LYS #1 and got to run around on inspection in LYS #2. She particularly liked the spot by the window, under a table.

Today she repaid me by refusing to poop outside because it rained overnight and the grass was not to her bottom's liking. So she pooped just outside the office and when I started bellowing, "Marley! Bad GIRL!" she hid in the corner. I had to take her picture, and managed to capture what she really was thinking about me.

Poor Boomer is sort of housebound. He is under the influence of powerful anti-inflammatories and prednisone, because he woke up 2 nights in a row screaming due to arthritis pain. He's much happier now.

Friday, the weather was perfect to walk Chester to Bella Rose for my breakfast knitting with the ladies. We arrived a little early and I chose an outside table since it was nice and sunny. I installed Chester in a chair, where he proceeded to charm everyone at the other tables with his mere presence. I told Chester if he stayed, he could have some quiche.

When I went inside, I was last in a fairly long line which had me worried, because I'd hooked the leash around the chair arm. As I was standing there, I could see the yogurt, but I had told Chester I'd give him some quiche, so that's what I got. I could see Chester out the window, perched in the chair in the same place I'd left him. When I got out, everyone told me how good Chester was — he hadn't budged! So of course he got some quiche, and then he proceeded to charm the other knitting ladies with his Rasputin stare (he was really looking at their croissants)

Afterwards, we walked to LYS #1, which is owned by Chester's girlfriend. He recognizes her and is completely overjoyed, knowing that she'll give him cookies. He was not disappointed. After that we walked over to the attorney's office to sign some paperwork.

Divorce
STBX asked for the house and the joint account, plus all his "stuff". That was a little shocking, feeling that someone that you once loved has just served you with papers that would leave you homeless and penniless. I'm glad I have my own attorney! We filed a response requesting a 50/50 split of the house and joint account, however a mistake was made and it also showed that I requested one of STBX' vintage motorcycles. After he went to his attorney and read the response, he stormed in the door. I asked him what the matter was and he said, "You!" He was really upset that I wanted his motorcycle, and there was no convincing him that it was a mistake. Eventually he got over it after I told him it wasn't a decree, it was just a response, so it wasn't a court order. What really astonished me was he didn't even mention that I requested half of the house and joint account, but he was upset over what amounted to a clerical error!

I will be very happy when this is all over. I've been touring a lot of houses here in town and any house with character needs a full kitchen and bath reno. And each house is really weird in its own way. It's kind of fun, actually, but discouraging at the same time.

Knitting
I'm working on the Estonian Garden scarf and wrap (Fiber Trends pattern). I've already made the scarf, but the wrap is wider, so it's taking longer. That and last night as I was on the last 6 rows of the main part, I dropped a stitch and had to un-knit (tink) it back. Now I'm on the Lily of the Valley part where I'm adding amber chips. The wrap and is for a knitting friend of mine who will be getting married in August, and she's a redhead who loves amber. Her wedding colors are ivory and amber, so I'm using natural Schaefer Trenna that I got from Little Knits. It's very silky.

Other Fun Stuff
When the STBX announced he wanted a divorce, I promptly took the joint credit card and went and plunked down $50 to take a fused glass class at a shop in town. I'd been planning on taking the class, but procrastinated. An impending court order not to run up debt is a good motivator! (I did it before the STBX even filed for divorce). Today was class day, and the woman who came in after me turned to me first thing and said, "Oh, you're Chester's mom!" I laughed and remembered that she was sitting at an adjacent table at Bella Rose the day before. She then declared that she loved Chester. My standard response is "You don't live with him!" But he was so good yesterday he left quite an impression!

Fusing glass is another fun money-spending thing to do. At least it's cheaper than having a boat, right?

Sometimes, you just need your bunny

2007-05-07T17:12:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days where I just wanted a bunny. Puggies do well in their stead.

Friday, my attorney was served with my divorce papers. This spared me the stress, and I was quite grateful. We're now under an injunction to only spend money on necessary items (which unfortunately does't include yarn).

My latest disasters: STBX won't move out. When I say, "I could get a court order," he demands to know, "On what grounds?" I keep telling him, "We're getting divorced, so I really don't have to answer your questions, do I?" Then he says, "Why don't you move out?" STBX actually went and got a local paper and cut out three "for rent" ads that indicated "pets OK" (or nonrefundable deposit with pet, or pets negotiable blah blah), taped the ads on a piece of paper and handed it to me at about 10pm last night. Neato.

Today, the neighbor's pug escaped from their yard and came over. I had to call my neighbor and tell her they need to get a gate that is spring loaded and closes automatically, because the people that buy our house are 1. not going to be around like we are, and 2. won't know who that silly little pug is. Poor little pug guy, he's going to miss me and my pack.

As I was returning the pug from whence he came, my STBX decided to tag along and talk at me (I'm sure many of you know how that goes, being talked at—my mother used to do it to me all the time.). STBX says, "If it's a problem to rent because you have three dogs instead of just two, I will take care of Marley." Dear GOD! He wants to take my little GIRL? I understand that he probably hates me, but there are limits to what you should do to another human being no matter what. And does he not have any consideration for little old Boomer, who loves Marley and is half of the "little old people?" Besides, STBX's idea of caring for Missy Thing would be some lap time while treating her with junk food and giving her real meals whenever he thought about it. And forget about her pedicures and warm scented baths, or eye booger cleaning.

STBX's stupid suggestion caused me to burst into tears and scream, "Leave me alone! You will not take my little girl! You just go back where you came from and leave me be!" as I'm running down the alley carrying the neighbor's pug.

The next disaster: Chester is having diarrhea again, which was the start down the road to trichobezoar removal. I am fervently praying they don't have to go in him again (he doesn't look bloated, but he is having hair loss like he's got malnutrition again). So he's on a diet of prunes and vegetable oil for a bit to "grease the skids" as it were. I felt sorry for him tonight, so I gave him a half chicken breast that I'd pounded flat and cooked, and didn't want. That was quite the scene! He tore a big piece off and managed to regurgitate it onto the floor four times before he actually figured out to chew it enough so he could swallow. Ugh. I thought I was going to have to do the Heimlich maneuver or something on him.

The other thing: Chester is super gassy, so I am without a bedpug. Seriously—he has some major methane coming from his rump. He has also been behaving badly, like he thinks he's in charge, so he's been relegated to his crate. Marley does not like to sleep on my bed. She likes a 10-minute cuddle and then she prefers her microfiber/memory foam bed with her own down comforter. Boomer actually prefers his crate and goes into it himself if you tell him "It's time for night-night." So, no cuddling for me.

Yet another disaster: I can't get financing for a house until some sort of divorce settlement is worked out. The gossip going around is that STBX's lawyer is the "drag your feet type" which seems obvious to me, based on the volume of documents STBX has to take to his lawyer. Just today he took an entire file box of docs, probably to keep me from them. So another court order/subpeona will be in the offing.

And one more: On Cinco de Mayo, I was quite bored, so I asked STBX if he would like to go to the local eatery and have a margarita. He said, and I quote, "I think I can do that." I should have said, "Oh, don't bother," but instead we went and he orderd the Cuervo Gold $10 margarita. I paid for the margs and today my husband tells me, "I can't be friends with you. I just won't." So I said, "Oh, but you can be friends if I buy your drinks, huh?" And he says, "It was all I could do to go there with you." Yeah, right, buddy. I am such a chump.

After this divorce is over, I believe I will engage in a two-year period of hating all men on general principles.