I have noticed that any number of [non-fiction] books have a premise that would be perfect for a long article or a pamplet*, but which do not warrant an entire book. Not that that stops the pundits and analysts and socio-political commentators from writing them. In that vein, I present any number of my recent thoughts and occurrences that do not warrant an entire blog post but which are perfect for the blog equivalent of a not-book.
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We have been taking care of Elder Son's new dog while he is at Bonnaroo. Said dog is bigger (105 pounds) than our own two dogs put together (45 pounds + 55 pounds). This means we are buying twice the amount of dog food and cleaning up twice the amount of poop. This dog's name is, most appropriately, Moose. In the photo at left, he is standing on the floor with his paws on my chair. Notice how I am eye to eye with his collar. When he wants to get on the bed, he doesn't need to jump -- he just walks onto it. Happily, he is a big softie who wants nothing more than a head rub and to be told he is a good doggie. And to be fed.
He also drinks what seems to us to be an incredible amount of water. Smokey and I marvel at how frequently we find ourselves filling the water dish; Elder Son remarks, "Wow, I wonder what his medical term that was gobblety-gook to me rate is?"
Moose was a bed hog the first couple nights after Elder Son left. I would wake up at 3am and find him occupying the entire lower two-thirds of the bed. Then I would discover that moving a 105-pound inert mass of canine was not as easy as I might have hoped. But after rolling him out of his spot those two nights, he seemed to understand that his place was between Smokey and I, not in the place where I wanted my lower body to be.
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On Father's Day I saw several gifs and posts about things people were taught by their fathers. My dad was a very shy and insecure man not much given to being a father, although he tried. What he taught me was never to walk on ice with my hands in my pockets. Not exactly a life-altering lesson, but not a bad one, either. It has saved my butt -- and wrists and probably hip -- any number of times.
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I was out running errands one sunny day last week and saw four convertibles with their tops down. The next day was stormy and Younger Son reported he saw four accidents on his way here from Minneapolis, one of said accidents requiring an ambulance. Coincidence or enemy action? Hard to say, really.
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Haven't done the unconscious mutterings for a while. Time to re-start my tradition, albeit on a different day than before.
- Today :: is Monday. I wrote this yesterday.
- Lips :: that long to be kissed.
- Seethe :: rage.
- Desired :: under the elms.
- Patrol :: plane. A P3, to be exact.
- Nails :: long and red.
- Pastry :: chef.
- Jacket :: potatoes.
- Button :: -hole. The Lion Brand blog just posted a little tutorial on making buttonholes. I need to get on that, stat.
- Feel :: good.
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I think I mentioned I have been binge-watching House for the past few weeks. His character seems to me to be a medical version of Sherlock Holmes, right down to his affinities for music and drugs. (I realize that this similarity has probably been remarked upon years ago by TV reviewers, but I just noticed it. Never read any reviews of the show when it was new.) Imagine my delight when there was an exterior shot of his townhouse, showing its number: 221B.
Smokey was watching it with me last night and pointed out that the House character also has a lot of similarities to the Doc Martin character in that PBS series. Both are arrogant and abrasive, but other characters put up with them because of their life-saving brilliance.
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Smokey had an appointment last week with his ortho's physician assistant to get shots of rooster comb in his knees. This PA is the one who started and did much of the CPR that kept him alive when his heart stopped just before his knee surgery in March. He brought her a bouquet of flowers at this appointment. She was quite touched. I told him he should bring her flower at every appointment from now until the end of time. She is our hero.
* Does anyone besides the Jehovah's Witnesses write pamphlets any more? Save some trees! Bring back the pamphlet! I say.
Bouquet photo credit: anne arnould via photopin cc
