everybody's working for the weekend This is going to be more of a catch-up entry than one about any topic in particular, because I'm boring like that. Today Joe and I went to Crate and Barrel to work on our registry list. There was some nice stuff there, and like some sort of Supermarket Sweep-type dream come true to walk through that entire store, figure out what stuff we liked, and put it on our list with the little laser bar code scanner. Of course, we're not going to get all that stuff as gifts--we were advised to overshoot the number of guests by a good number so that people would have a wide assortment to choose from--but dude, it was cool all the same. We spent three hours in the store and then were ready to collapse. Now maybe Joe's mom can stop hounding us. (Ha! I kid! But not really.) Our latest trip to the pet store yielded yet another lesson in How to Most Quickly Spoil Your Dog. Well, not really--we don't get her that many toys, and reign in how many treat's she's getting per day--but everyone who visits us seems to bring by a new dog toy for The Coop, and hang it if we're both not a little guilty of feeding her an eensy weensy morsel of people food once in a while (yes, away from the table, and not chocolate). We just got her some more rawhide chews (dog goes through them like water), an ID tag, and this new thing called the Gentle Leader, recommended for use to train dogs that pull at their leashes. See, it looks like a muzzle, but she can still open her mouth and eat and all that good stuff while it's on. What it's does, see, is steer the dog around by the head instead of the neck while on the leash, so that they don't fucking choke to death while they're tugging at the leash, eager to go smell some fine dog butt on that Schnauzer strolling by on the sidewalk. Also, since dogs have the natural inclination to tug against resistance, the Gentle Leader provides pressure on the back of the head when the dog tugs, instead of the front of the neck--therefore, instead of pulling at the leash harder, the dog pushes back, and stays close to you. It seems to be working pretty well so far, but she doesn't much like having the Gentle Leader on yet, and spends many minutes pawing at her face and shaking her head around like some sort of unbroken filly. (Gentle Leader sounds like some sort of Cult Master, doesn't it? Like, "When should we kill ourselves to join the alien spacecraft hiding behind Hale-Bopp? Let's ask Gentle Leader!") Did I tell you the story of how Cooper totally tried to rape me? Yeah, so I was lying on the couch, and she was resting at my feet, gnawing on something or other, when all of a sudden, she walks up the couch and continues up the armrest, walking all over my head. I open my mouth to scream, "Hey!" or "Stop that!" but before I can even enunciate, she's turned around again to lick my face, and sticks her dog tongue into my mouth. MICHELLE Gah! Harrassment! JOE (In other room) What's going on? MICHELLE Cooper tried to get lucky! She Frenched me! She slipped me the tongue! JOE Just like Wellesley, huh? I'm almost done with my newest book, Word Freak, by Stefan Fatsis. It's a non-fiction book about the world of competitive Scabble playing, and as boring as that might sound, it's actually riveting. (It was also a natural extension for me after finishing Bee Season.) I highly recommend Word Freak to anyone who a.) enjoys non-fiction, and b.) can understand the idea of being mesmerized by the beauty of words, language, and the hidden mathematics therein. (Coleen, I'm looking at you--another book recommendation from someone who has all too much time on her hands these days.) One thing this book has made me realize is that, despite what I had through previously, I am a truly horrible Scrabble player. The second thing is, in reading about how these Scrabble champions obsessively memorize word lists, construct elaborate mnemonics to help them anagram, and lose all sense of personal hygiene and social conduct when in preparation for a tournament, is that being some strange Scrabble savant is not unlike being a first or second year medical student. xo Michelle |
Sunday . January 12 . 2003 . 11:26pm |
everybody's working for the weekend This is going to be more of a catch-up entry than one about any topic in particular, because I'm boring like that. Today Joe and I went to Crate and Barrel to work on our registry list. There was some nice stuff there, and like some sort of Supermarket Sweep-type dream come true to walk through that entire store, figure out what stuff we liked, and put it on our list with the little laser bar code scanner. Of course, we're not going to get all that stuff as gifts--we were advised to overshoot the number of guests by a good number so that people would have a wide assortment to choose from--but dude, it was cool all the same. We spent three hours in the store and then were ready to collapse. Now maybe Joe's mom can stop hounding us. (Ha! I kid! But not really.) Our latest trip to the pet store yielded yet another lesson in How to Most Quickly Spoil Your Dog. Well, not really--we don't get her that many toys, and reign in how many treat's she's getting per day--but everyone who visits us seems to bring by a new dog toy for The Coop, and hang it if we're both not a little guilty of feeding her an eensy weensy morsel of people food once in a while (yes, away from the table, and not chocolate). We just got her some more rawhide chews (dog goes through them like water), an ID tag, and this new thing called the Gentle Leader, recommended for use to train dogs that pull at their leashes. See, it looks like a muzzle, but she can still open her mouth and eat and all that good stuff while it's on. What it's does, see, is steer the dog around by the head instead of the neck while on the leash, so that they don't fucking choke to death while they're tugging at the leash, eager to go smell some fine dog butt on that Schnauzer strolling by on the sidewalk. Also, since dogs have the natural inclination to tug against resistance, the Gentle Leader provides pressure on the back of the head when the dog tugs, instead of the front of the neck--therefore, instead of pulling at the leash harder, the dog pushes back, and stays close to you. It seems to be working pretty well so far, but she doesn't much like having the Gentle Leader on yet, and spends many minutes pawing at her face and shaking her head around like some sort of unbroken filly. (Gentle Leader sounds like some sort of Cult Master, doesn't it? Like, "When should we kill ourselves to join the alien spacecraft hiding behind Hale-Bopp? Let's ask Gentle Leader!") Did I tell you the story of how Cooper totally tried to rape me? Yeah, so I was lying on the couch, and she was resting at my feet, gnawing on something or other, when all of a sudden, she walks up the couch and continues up the armrest, walking all over my head. I open my mouth to scream, "Hey!" or "Stop that!" but before I can even enunciate, she's turned around again to lick my face, and sticks her dog tongue into my mouth. MICHELLE Gah! Harrassment! JOE (In other room) What's going on? MICHELLE Cooper tried to get lucky! She Frenched me! She slipped me the tongue! JOE Just like Wellesley, huh? I'm almost done with my newest book, Word Freak, by Stefan Fatsis. It's a non-fiction book about the world of competitive Scabble playing, and as boring as that might sound, it's actually riveting. (It was also a natural extension for me after finishing Bee Season.) I highly recommend Word Freak to anyone who a.) enjoys non-fiction, and b.) can understand the idea of being mesmerized by the beauty of words, language, and the hidden mathematics therein. (Coleen, I'm looking at you--another book recommendation from someone who has all too much time on her hands these days.) One thing this book has made me realize is that, despite what I had through previously, I am a truly horrible Scrabble player. The second thing is, in reading about how these Scrabble champions obsessively memorize word lists, construct elaborate mnemonics to help them anagram, and lose all sense of personal hygiene and social conduct when in preparation for a tournament, is that being some strange Scrabble savant is not unlike being a first or second year medical student. xo Michelle |
