Sunday
I did go to the reading, though I didn't stay long. When I opened the door to leave the house both dogs dashed out and began prancing and leaping all over the driveway, inspiring me to invite them to join me for a brief trip downtown. When he realized we were not going for a walk but for a ride in the car, Jeepies slunk back to the house and stood stock still with his face about two inches from the door, pointedly ignoring my pleas of "C'mon, it'll be fun!" I don't blame him for being suspicious; usually the only time he rides in the car is when he's going to the vet's.
Tater has a long (though not recent) history of fun things happening when we go somewhere together, though, so he jumped into the back seat with great enthusiasm, which he maintained until we got to the venue, at which point he hunkered down with both front feet braced against the door frame and refused to get out of the car. I'd only brought him because I thought he would enjoy seeing our old friend, Beautiful Hands Man, who's known him since the day I brought him home as a puppy and has been missing the weekly visits we used to have, before I moved across town and out of his path homeward after his regular Sunday night gig. Next to Mr. A, this is the person Tater most idolizes in all the world.
(Tater is rolling around on his back on the carpet next to my desk right now, yelping and making wolverine noises and gnashing his teeth like a crazy goofball. He performs this spectacle for a few minutes every night around this time, possibly as a way to let me know he's ready for his dinner. Both dogs have been freaking out a bit since Mr. A left yesterday – wanting to be right next to me all the time, and running to the door every time a car drives by.
Also: Isn't it great how dogs communicate so well without using any words? When Tater doesn't want to do something, he has this psychic thing he does that feels like a mental wall of iron coming down between his mind and mine, so that I know no amount of begging and cajoling will induce him to change his mind. Interestingly, he doesn't use this tactic when we're at the vet or doing some other unpleasant task that is really non-negotiable. He seems to understand very well when something is optional, and only resists when he knows it's possible I might give in.)
So the Taterman stayed in the car and I went to the reading, which was nothing special, at least during the time I was there. Having a bored, impatient dog in the car gave me a good excuse to just say hi to everyone, have a bite to eat and get outta there. I spent the rest of the evening reading the last few chapters of Crime and Punishment and starting the introduction to the Brothers Karamazov, which will be my next big read. I also have a copy of War and Peace lying around somewhere that I may pick up at some point. Nothing like a little light reading when the weather outside turns frightful.
Today, though, it's still beautiful – warm and clear, with that low golden light that you get when the sun starts approaching its lowest point in the sky. I spent the day in Petaluma: breakfast at my favorite Armenian cafe, then some pre-holiday shopping along the main drag downtown, and groceries on the way home. Tonight for dinner I will be treating myself to toasted cracked-wheat sourdough bread with fresh-ground honey-roasted peanut butter and a big glass of milk – something Mr. A insists is "not dinner," but which I love to indulge myself in every once in awhile when he's not around. Lest anyone suspect him of being a food nazi I will also mention that he thoughtfully left me two boxes of Trader Joe's Classic Macaroni & White Cheddar, plus a can (yes!) of Kraft Easy Cheese, which he knows is a guilty pleasure of mine that is SO extremely guilty I don't even buy it for myself anymore, ever.
I also bought about ten thousand dollars worth of fresh vegetables, seaweed chips, flax seed oil, yoga magazines and other healthy stuff, so don't worry – all does not go directly to hell around here in the food department as soon as he turns his back (she said, through a mouth full of dark chocolate and hazelnuts).
Tater has a long (though not recent) history of fun things happening when we go somewhere together, though, so he jumped into the back seat with great enthusiasm, which he maintained until we got to the venue, at which point he hunkered down with both front feet braced against the door frame and refused to get out of the car. I'd only brought him because I thought he would enjoy seeing our old friend, Beautiful Hands Man, who's known him since the day I brought him home as a puppy and has been missing the weekly visits we used to have, before I moved across town and out of his path homeward after his regular Sunday night gig. Next to Mr. A, this is the person Tater most idolizes in all the world.
(Tater is rolling around on his back on the carpet next to my desk right now, yelping and making wolverine noises and gnashing his teeth like a crazy goofball. He performs this spectacle for a few minutes every night around this time, possibly as a way to let me know he's ready for his dinner. Both dogs have been freaking out a bit since Mr. A left yesterday – wanting to be right next to me all the time, and running to the door every time a car drives by.
Also: Isn't it great how dogs communicate so well without using any words? When Tater doesn't want to do something, he has this psychic thing he does that feels like a mental wall of iron coming down between his mind and mine, so that I know no amount of begging and cajoling will induce him to change his mind. Interestingly, he doesn't use this tactic when we're at the vet or doing some other unpleasant task that is really non-negotiable. He seems to understand very well when something is optional, and only resists when he knows it's possible I might give in.)
So the Taterman stayed in the car and I went to the reading, which was nothing special, at least during the time I was there. Having a bored, impatient dog in the car gave me a good excuse to just say hi to everyone, have a bite to eat and get outta there. I spent the rest of the evening reading the last few chapters of Crime and Punishment and starting the introduction to the Brothers Karamazov, which will be my next big read. I also have a copy of War and Peace lying around somewhere that I may pick up at some point. Nothing like a little light reading when the weather outside turns frightful.
Today, though, it's still beautiful – warm and clear, with that low golden light that you get when the sun starts approaching its lowest point in the sky. I spent the day in Petaluma: breakfast at my favorite Armenian cafe, then some pre-holiday shopping along the main drag downtown, and groceries on the way home. Tonight for dinner I will be treating myself to toasted cracked-wheat sourdough bread with fresh-ground honey-roasted peanut butter and a big glass of milk – something Mr. A insists is "not dinner," but which I love to indulge myself in every once in awhile when he's not around. Lest anyone suspect him of being a food nazi I will also mention that he thoughtfully left me two boxes of Trader Joe's Classic Macaroni & White Cheddar, plus a can (yes!) of Kraft Easy Cheese, which he knows is a guilty pleasure of mine that is SO extremely guilty I don't even buy it for myself anymore, ever.
I also bought about ten thousand dollars worth of fresh vegetables, seaweed chips, flax seed oil, yoga magazines and other healthy stuff, so don't worry – all does not go directly to hell around here in the food department as soon as he turns his back (she said, through a mouth full of dark chocolate and hazelnuts).
2 Comments:
Even though I no longer drink cow's milk--I stopped out of squeamishness once I started to lactate (how could I produce my own milk and yet drink the milk of another mammal?)--just the thought of you sitting down to that the bread and peanut butter with the big cold glass of milk made my mouth water.
Tina! Your wrote about my two favorite things..Dogs and Food!
And what is it with that Kraft Easy Cheese??? My mom in Orem sends me one of those every year in my Xmas box along with a box of Ritz crackers. It is my most disgusting guilty pleasure much to the horror of my girlfriend!
Do you think it's some kind of Mormon hangover from our previous lives? Like having a vestigual(sp?) tail?
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