Tag Archives: silliness

Child of Velociraptor

This is my "velociraptor"

Ever since I read Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park and saw the movie, I sensed a kinship between Velociraptors and Basenjis, like maybe they shared a common immediate ancestor. Not exactly, of course, but on some philosophical level. There’s the scene at the end of the movie when the ‘raptor attacks the T. rex — without even pausing to take a breath and think maybe it would be a bad idea.

When I walk out the front door with my current “mini-raptor” I have to make sure I have a good grip on the handle of the flexi-leash and my thumb on the brake. There’s always the chance that one of these might be driving by…

This is his "T. rex"

A Recipe for Beandog Food

Who you calling Beandog?

My soon-to-be-five-year-old Puppy is a vegetarian, for those of you who don’t already know. He has allergies to a lot of the meat products, and some of the plant products, in regular dog food. He’s also allergic to Central Texas, as are many of us humans who live here. So, anyway, he’s on a vegetarian diet. But it’s a drab, boring looking dog food. Obviously, he doesn’t care about such things, because he never, ever turned up his nose at the drab, boring looking stuff. But I’ve always been one of those people who likes to add a little something extra to my dog’s food — mainly, I guess, so I won’t get so bored fixing the same old stuff the same old way day after day.

Originally, the breeder, Susan, suggested I cook a pot of rice and mix in some velveeta cheese product. Yum. He loved that stuff. But it seemed like I was cooking ALL THE TIME — FOR THE DOG. I don’t even cook for myself if I can help it.

Then I saw a segment on the Rachael Ray show about dog nutrition, and about how much sugar and calories there are in the dog treats that we all tend to give our dogs way too many of. The vet that was talking suggested using things like black beans and chick peas instead. And that gave me an idea. I figured I could mix a can of black beans with a can of chick peas and add a little to the Puppy’s food every day for a little extra protein and some flavoring, and it has made us all happy. It’s easy to fix, and he certainly likes eating it, judging by the hysterics he has while I’m mixing his bowl of food every day, and by how shiny his coat is.

So here’s what I do. I open cans of black beans, chick peas, and green peas. I drain all of the black bean juice into a measuring cup and add enough from the other cans to make about a cup of liquid. Then I finish draining the two cans of peas into the sink. I put the black beans in a flat-bottomed bowl and mash them, to thicken the mixture, then I stir in the chick peas and green peas. I divide the mixture into two or three containers and put a couple of them in the freezer and one in the refrigerator. When I fix his food I put a few spoonfuls in his bowl and microwave for a few seconds to take the chill off. Then I mix in his dry food and his allergy medicine. And since I tend to name everything… Beandog Food. Which makes the Puppy a Beandog. As well as a Basenji. Which means he’s odd, as well as crazy. Just how I likes ‘em.

Nest-building in Basenjis

A not-so-scientific study.

I sometimes wonder about the effects of domestication on dog behavior. I mean to say I wonder idly — not seriously. Because seriously, sometimes dogs are so funny, I wouldn’t want to change them. Mine have always been invaluable boredom-alleviators, as well as entertainers and anti-depressants. Speculating on why they do the things they do provides me with hours of amusement. Reading a book on dog behavior by some expert would just spoil the whole exercise.

Take nest-building. The Old Guy, of course, was Chief High Nest-Builder and Blanket Wrestler. He would scrunch his blanket all over the living room floor in an effort to get it wadded to his exacting specifications. I never knew where he would end up — I always had to just go out of my way as much as necessary not to disturb him when I left the room.

Now it’s The Puppy’s turn. He used to be satisfied with his blanket folded neatly on the floor next to the sofa — truthfully, he used to be satisfied with curling up on the carpet, but the end of winter was pretty chilly here, so I thought he might like a little more insulation. (And, yes, I may be the only person on the planet with basenjis who don’t live on my furniture. When I moved in with my dad and brother, the dogs had to learn a whole new set of rules — The Puppy, of course, grew up as a floor dog.) After months of curling himself up neatly on the folded blanket, said Puppy one day started channeling The Old Guy. He wasn’t happy with a merely rumpled blanket. He had to get it all the way into a tight little wadded-up bundle. Which got me wondering — do dogs in their “natural state” go to such extremes? You would think that beyond a certain amount of “fluffing,” the return on energy expended would bottom out. But I don’t know. Or maybe I’ve just had some especially particular nest fluffers. Or maybe the domestication process — all that selective breeding for being nice to people and not eating them and all — sort of shorted out a few circuits and now they just don’t know when they’re “finished” with their nest. I wonder if I could get funding to do a study. Hmm.

The Old Guy in his "bankee"

When even laughing makes you sweat…

This is the time of year when I would like nothing better than to be able to live on a nothing-but-ice-cream diet. I was reading an article on The Blogess this morning, and had one of those laughing melt-downs. You know, where you start out with everything kind of contained with just some shoulder jiggling, and then you’re wheezing and snorting and shrieking and making sobbing sounds and the tears are running down your face and you about wet your pants. One of those. I had forgotten how funny her articles are. I can’t read them every day.

Anyway, after I got myself back under a semblance of control, I was soggy — all the usual soggy places. I’ll spare you the details. Obviously, being post-menopausal does not guarantee no more hot flashes. Or it could be my trying-to-save-on-the-electric-bill thermostat setting and the house being 81 degrees. Whatever. Bring on the ice cream.

Actually, I think ice cream makers are making more of an effort to include more food groups in their flavors these days. For instance, I recently found a flavor called “Peanut Butter Panic,” that is just bonkers good. Of course it has a serving of dairy. Then there is the protein food group represented by the peanuts in the peanut butter. And of course there’s the chocolate food group. All you need to do is throw on some frozen peas, maybe some blueberries and some All-Bran or something, and you’ve got a complete meal in one bowl of cold, creamy goodness!

Drinking hot (ish) coffee this morning

I have gone through phases in my adult life with and without caffeine. I’ve come to the conclusion that some caffeine is required, since I’m basically a morning person but am frequently a groggy morning person. And I like coffee. I even like the decaf kind. With a caveat… I like it to taste like ice cream. And I usually like it ice cold.

I started keeping my coffee in the refrigerator earlier this summer when I would sit at my computer on a typical, muggy, central Texas summer morning (even the A/C didn’t prevent all perception of mugginess), drinking my freshly dripped coffee, and I would start sweating buckets. Seriously. Buckets. Because hot weather plus hot coffee equals hot flash equals buckets of sweat. Buckets. What am I — stupid? I thought. Put the frakking coffee over some frakking ice. Then I came up with the brilliant idea that I could make my own coffee, separately from my brother’s normal coffee, and I could have flavors! like caramel truffle and chocolate velvet. My brother doesn’t like his coffee to taste like ice cream, so he isn’t interested in sharing my flavored coffee. So I make my own pot of coffee and pour it into a bottle to keep in the fridge. Then every morning I can pour some in a tumbler and add some sweetener and half and half, and have a nice, cold pick-me-up to start my day with.

Only this morning it was chilly. So I put my cold coffee in a mug and microwaved it hot. But adding the half and half cooled it off to almost room temperature. I’m running the furnace, after all. It’s not like it’s 53 degrees in here. And I’m not fond of hot beverages unless I actually need to drink something hot to get warm.

I’m about to make a point with this. Wait for it…

I was reading Havi Brooks’s recent post over at The Fluent Self blog about being your own, authentic self, dammit, and not apologizing to anyone about it. And I thought about my cold coffee habit and my flavored, ice-cream-tasting coffee habit, and how my brother always sneers at flavored coffee (and the people who drink it, I fear), and I thought, you know, this is me, dammit. Yeah, maybe I have a few screws loose, but they are not in the area of coffee drinking. Ever since I started drinking my coffee cold in the mornings, I have fewer hot flashes all day. So there. Dammit.

Now that's a hybrid vehicle

It's all about entitlement

It's all about entitlement

This here is Trigger. At the moment he belongs to Kelso Mules in Murray, Kentucky. They were kind enough to let me borrow the picture and edit in the parking sign that my friend took a picture of in Austin. The minute I saw this picture of Trigger, I knew he was the one I wanted to star in my little comedy. I don’t know how many of those signs there are around Austin, or other places, but I think it would be great fun to hitch a nice looking mule like ol’ Trigger to every one of them.

Trigger is for sale, by the way, and the Kelso Mules folks have other nice mules for sale. I wish I could afford one. I might even ride it once in a while.

It's the small things

I can’t tell you how nice it was yesterday to be able to put the dogs out in their yard and not have to run right back out and bring them in. As rough as this summer has been with the prolonged triple digit heat wave and the drought, I got spoiled. My dogs love heat, and although I worried about the Old Guy being more stressed by it and brought the boys in for frequent cooling-off breaks in the air conditioning, I was able to put them back out as soon as they started bugging me were comfortable again. Rain is a whole other country. And we have gotten some rain this past week.

As I’ve said before, Basenjis don’t like wet things, like grass. They hate to get their feet wet, they don’t like raindrops falling on their head, none of that stuff. So we all have to stay in the house, except for those essential trips outside for potty breaks (which, of course, are more frequent for the Old Guy). Fortunately, the rainfall was fairly light and broken up with occasional lulls, so I was able to take him out long enough to do all the required business (no trail of turds around the house this time), with only a couple of bladder accidents when the rain’s timing was bad.

I was hoping that the long dry spell had somehow dispelled the Puppy’s traumatic association with wet grass, which I have no idea how or where he got. If it wasn’t so maddening, it would be comical. He’s absolutely petrified of walking in wet grass. Like it’s gonna jump up and bite him. I don’t know if I’m ready to give him credit for being able to make the connection between wet weather and his itchy-skin fungus breakouts (which, of course, are aggravated by almost any change in weather conditions, especially changes to damp), but it’s possible, I suppose, that he’s thinking, “NOOOOOS! If I goes out in wets grasses and gets my feets wet, boogie monsters will try to eats my skins off!”

Heavy sigh. I wonder how long he could actually “hold it” if I didn’t drag him out into the yard and stand there looking daggers at him until he pees. Who could not love one of these dogs? Seriously. Because you are so bowled over ecstatic by those fleeting moments when they’re good!

Who's a geek?

So I went to the library at the local university the other evening to get a book that wasn’t available at either of the local public libraries. I went after 5 p. m. so I could park in a lot and not have to pay (like in the Visitors Parking Garage) and not get a ticket, since school is out and most of the lots are mostly empty.

It didn’t take me long to get the book. I knew what floor it was on and had the call number written down because I had looked it up on line a few weeks ago. And I wasn’t parked that far from the library so didn’t have to walk clear across campus in the scorching heat. Everything was fine, until I got hit with this huge wall of nostalgia. It nearly flattened me. I practically moaned out loud.

I blew it. I blew it so bad. I blew it in so many ways I can’t even begin to enumerate.

I love being on a campus, would love a reason to spend every day working there, walking around all the different buildings, soaking up all the scholoarly vibes. I should have gone back to graduate school. Got a doctorate. Become a professor. Or something. Anything for the chance to work and spend my days on a college campus.

Anyway — the book. Just a Geek, by Wil Wheaton. I’d seen it on his blog and got curious enough to go looking for it. It took me all of about eight hours to read, although some of the blog excerpts I’d already read, so could skim through those at warp nine.

Oh. Yeah. That Wil Wheaton. Who played Wesley Crusher on Star Trek The Next Generation — a geeky kid played by (apparently) an authentically geeky kid who grew into a geeky adult and wrote a book about it all. I found it highly entertaining, engaging, and something I could relate to… almost too much.

Wil had a demon he named “Prove To Everyone That Quitting Star Trek Wasn’t A Mistake,” and as I got to know the two of them through the pages of his book, I noticed someone I’d been ignoring for years, sitting a little behind me, drumming her fingers — “I Never Should Have Left The Zoo.” Oh, brother.

When I first started working at the Fort Worth Zoo I walked around thinking all day, “Pinch me. Make sure I’m not dreaming. Make sure I’m awake, because I don’t want to miss a single nanosecond of this.” And I returned to that theme frequently for the entire three years eight months I worked there. So why did I leave? Along with the considerable philosophical differences I had with a few co-workers and with the individuals who ran the place, I had a plan to finish my Master’s degree and rule the world. I was going to be a SCIENTIST!

The assistant director of the zoo laughed at me when he heard me say that. Laughed. At me.

I, of course, had no idea that getting a Master’s degree wouldn’t make me a scientist. In fact, a Master’s degree doesn’t really make you qualified for a lot of better jobs than a Bachelor’s degree does. It just makes you overqualified for a lot more.

So it might be a little like what Wil Wheaton went through trying to find acting jobs in the post Star Trek phase. Having a hard time finding a good fit as a “journeyman” as opposed to an “apprentice,” but not quite to the level of “master” (which for me would be that PhD)where you can write your own ticket, as it were. But-oh-well.

I did have to kind of laugh at Wil when he said in the book how scary it was to contemplate a complete career redirect in his mid twenties! I changed career paths at thirty, and again at forty, and now in my fifties I’m still not sure I’m grown up enough to decide what I want to do with my life! But to Wil Wheaton, if he should read this — I really enjoyed your book, think you should keep writing, hope you keep getting acting jobs because you enjoy that, and I plan to watch you on Leverage this week. Dude.

How I Handle Hot Weather (and Hot Flashes)

  1. Stay inside in the air conditioning. And you might be surprised how cool 78 – 80 degrees feels when it’s 105 outside.
  2. Keep plenty of popsicles on hand. I believe I’ve mentioned this before. If you can find one of those little gadgets that you can fill with your own juice or whatever, make your own popsicles in any flavor you want.
  3. Paper plates — or suitable substitute. Keep some handy for fanning wherever you go.
  4. Keep a damp washrag in a sandwich bag on the top shelf of the fridge. OMG does this feel good on the face after walking the dogs in the scorching sun! Hold it against your throat where you can feel your pulse, and you can cool off the blood going to your brain. Get a fresh washrag daily — really, people, I shouldn’t have to tell you this.
  5. Drink plenty of cold fluids. Beer is okay only up to a point. Same for cola and anything else with caffeine or alcohol, which are both diuretics. When you are already sweating your ass off, you don’t need to be losing more water out the kidneys.
  6. Cool showers. In fact, I think I’m going to go take one now.

“Professional” blogging experts all say that lists make great content. Just thought I’d try it.

The Importance of Popsicles

Computer use causes hot flashes. I’m sure a properly conducted scientific study would turn up a direct correlation between amount of time spent in front of a computer and number of hot flashes experienced in a given time frame by women of a certain age (of which I am one). So. I always have a paper plate handy — for fanning — and a stock of popsicles in the freezer for an instant cool-down.

This is has been particularly necessary this summer with the scorching heat we’ve been experiencing in this area. I have actually had to bring my heat-loving dogs inside for several air-conditioning breaks every day or I honestly think the Old Guy would melt. And he loves being outside more than food. So it’s saying a lot that he tries to force his way out the gate and runs for the door as soon as I get his leash attached.

What I’m saying is that I may post updates a little less frequently. And they’ll be short.