So I think I need to backtrack to Thursday, May 26th, in the not so late afternoon: I’m leaving Atlantic Nursery in Freeport, heading to Home Depot, and listening to NPR. The guest that day was John Bradshaw, the author of Dog Sense: How the New Science of Dog Behavior Can Make You A Better Friend to Your Pet (a new behavior guidebook.) The topic was The New Science of Understanding Dog Behavior.
Sounds interesting. I was thinking that I would buy his book if I had a dog. It might also make a nice gift. It sounded like a good book. I haven’t leafed through it yet so I’m not sure. I put it on my list of books to check out the next time I am in the bookstore.
So why am I mentioning this? Because of that image in my head — an image I just quite can’t shake. It’s a bit creepy. It was something he said. He was talking and, if I remember correctly, he was talking about training dogs for the military.
“I would actually much rather have a dog ahead of me than another human being because it’s another set of senses — and particularly the olfactory sense. These dogs are trained to find and then indicate all manners of things. In that particular instance, it would presumably be explosives and ammunitions and guns and so on.”
He spoke of how conservationists are now using dogs to monitor the population of very rare animals. And then he said it, “So dogs are, you know, their noses are so valuable to us . . .” And there you have it. An image in my head that I cannot erase: A cute wet, juicy dog nose on a platter, maybe with a sprig of mint to be served as a delicacy. Creepy, huh?!?
Help me . . .
A busy Memorial Day Weekend. Lots of omelettes were made, the deck railing was primed, the gazebo is up, Rachel surprised us, and Janet arrived. Ended up with a friend and family filled bbq ending with a dose of South Park — which, by the way, was Janet’s first time (watching South Park, that is.)
Not too hot. Not too sunny today. Spent hours in the garden — digging, clipping, thinking, planting. Always amazed at how long it takes to do so little. I guess that’s what happens when you can’t make up your mind. Might still move some things around but had to get some planting done today.
I find it’s easier to work in patches. Still so much to do. Took an Aleve this afternoon and now I’m ready to get back into the dirt!
Gone is “Tell me about yourself — eh, not so much.”
Whatever happened to ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DELETE THIS? Do you think there is any way I can get this post back? I was correcting a word in the post and hit update. Then I decided to change something else but I must have hit something and the cursor went to the title and as I updated it I noticed it. So I went back to my posts and found the one with no title and went to click on it but my finger slipped and the cursor went to TRASH!!!!
I tried to stop it. There was no warning. Nothing . . . it is gone. Oh well, the title was the best part anyway!!!!
Just words on a page — so why did I feel like Steven Ezra came over and cleaned out my closets while I was on the phone in another room?
Not in the mood to write now. Too traumatized!
UPDATE: Found it in my trash but when I tried to restore it it came back with an error. Then when I looked again it was gone — not in the trash but on the blog. Ah, all is well. Still, I’m not feeling like writing much today. I think I’ll shred . . . papers, that is!
Soaking wet. No, I’m not at the Arctic Monkeys concert — no rain last night but sweat pouring down my face, burning my eyes, couldn’t see a thing — so crowded. hot, sticky. Luckily, Rachel had the same hot sweaty issues that I have so we walked out of the crowd and sat by a tree while Hannah and Drew made their way in and around the crowd.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, sweat — breaking out in a sweat, stress sweat. Drew gave me the ultimatum this morning, “It’s the iPhone or no phone,” he roared in my face. Maybe it’s because, this morning, I didn’t make him eggs, and I didn’t chop up any veggies for his cottage cheese. He made his own breakfast — a milkshake. Maybe that’s why he was such a tyrant.
My AT&T contract is up for renewal on June 1oth. I mentioned to Drew that my phone is falling apart. It’s not reading my SIM card. The screen is messed up. I sometimes joke about getting an iPhone because I’m the only one in the family who can’t check emails at all times. I can’t check the weather report or just browse the web, for that matter. I’m beginning to feel left out. I could be writing my blog on the train, at the dinner table, or in the lady’s room at the theater.
I don’t know what to do. Hannah thinks I should get one. Steven Ezra doesn’t. Carol and Cheryl have iPhones. And that makes me want one. Whenever I’m with Hannah she shows me the apps she has downloaded. I love the weather app (warmer than yesterday.) She showed me something on her phone yesterday. Sorry to say I can’t remember what it was but I did say “When I get an iPhone I want that app!” So sad.
I could wait for the iPhone 5 to come out. I don’t know. I’ll have to think. How would my girls feel if I had the 5 and they had the 4. Would I be a cool mom?
Tomorrow I’ll be sure to make Drew some eggs and toast.
This morning my honey and I had a conversation. It started with a question from me to Drew: “How does this whole Kindle, Nook thing work? Can you buy a book for the Kindle and read it on a Nook?”
“I have a Droid with Nook software. You can download. . . . .” A half hour later, my head spinning, I lovingly interrupted Drew and said probably the only thing that would get him to pay attention and stop chatting: “Are you ready for breakfast? Do you want eggs?”
If the conversation were reversed and Drew asked me the Nook/Kindle question — which would never happen — I would respond in one of three ways: a.) yes, b.) no, c.) not sure. Simple and to the point. Maybe not enough information for some people but it would work for me.
So, anyway, the mention of food stopped him for the moment. I can’t hear much with the exhaust fan over the stove loudly sucking up any hint of smoke and smells. (Sometimes I turn the fan off just so the house can fill up with the aroma of home cooking — imagine baking an apple pie and having the whole neighborhood inhaling the scent while the house smells of . . . nothing!) So I tended to the eggs and toast and Drew read the paper.
But when I sat back down with my morning milkshake, Drew continued, “You know about Apple’s subscription service . . ” Me says, “Books?” He says, “No, music.”
I love him but he needs someone to talk WITH. You know, conversation — which implies two ways.
Weather report today: No surprise — We are off to the city tonight for an outdoor concert at Summerstage in Central Park — Arctic Monkeys. Not only do I get to stand for the entire concert but there is a 50% chance that I will be standing in the pouring rain. Thunderstorms predicted!
Okay Little Monsters — you know who you are — where have you all been hiding all these years and why have you decided to come out now?
I feel like I’m reading, watching, and listening to Lady Gaga 24/7. What has happened? Where did she come from? And why is she everywhere? As long as she stays out of my dreams I should be okay.
Every time Drew turns on the tv there is a gagathon on and, it seems, we keep seeing the same part over and over again. Too much chatting on her part — but the crowd goes wild.
This morning over breakfast I said to Drew, “Why didn’t we push our girls to jump around on stage? Ga is only 25 and look at her. She sings, she dances, she plays dress up. I think the girls would have loved that.” So, as usual, we, the parents, are to blame.
Where did she come up with the name Gaga? Babytalk, maybe? The meat dress, the mask-like makeup, and now what — starting to look so normal — so soon.
I hear she has 10 million twitter followers. That’s way more followers than I have. Wow! Maybe I need to dress differently.
Hey, wait a second, it’s Monday night. Ga will be at Union Square Best Buy tonight for an album signing. Better go put on my raincoat (yes, the ugly green one) and my walking shoes and head out to the LIRR. I can still make it.