Video Thursday

The Gift

For three days solid it has been raining here in paradise, you know, the Sunshine State, Florida. And three times a day, for those three days, I have been trying to get my dogs out to do their doody. Now Sasha isn't too much of a problem. It seems that one of her previous owners had trained her to take a poop, and pee in the shower. The only thing is that sometimes she gets confused, and takes a crap just outside the shower on the bathroom floor. She also has taken a dump here in my office, but I attribute that to Mark taking one of his lengthy showers, causing Sasha to search out an alternative site.

Chandler is another story. He will try to hold his bladder, and crapper as long as possible. That said, he still needs to go out. What I do is keep one eye on the swimming pool through the window. If I see that no rain is falling, disturbing the pool surface, I will quickly grab Chandler, and we will make a run for the church down the block. The church being his preferred pooping place. This morning I decided that we could make it all the way around the block because the pavement was dry, even though the sky was still a leaden gray. It obviously hadn't rained in the last hour, so on we went, past the corner where Chandler likes to stop and pee. Past drunken Mikes house, where Chandler always stops to smell something. Not sure what he's smelling, but it must be good, he spends an inordinate amount of time there. We were almost at the point of no return when a light rain started. I decided to turn around and go back the way we came. Chandler must have sensed what was coming, because he immediately squatted in the nearest patch of grass, and took a gigantic crap. So we beat the rain. We managed to crap, pick up the crap in one of our little green bags, and make it all the way home just before the skies opened up again.

Lane Cake

It's Sunday, and the day is gray. Outside rain is dotting the swimming pool with little concentric circles, and inside I am laid back in my recliner while football flickers across the gigantic television screen. Off in the kitchen I can hear Mark banging around, with the various gadgets he uses to create his masterpieces, whirring, and grinding away. The first football game of the day is almost over, and I can now smell something wonderful coming from that kitchen. By the time the second game of the day starts, Mark is over in the dining room smearing icing on a layer cake.
"What kind of cake did ya make?" I ask.
"It's called a Lane Cake. It has a filling of pecans, raisins, and a full cup of bourbon."

By the time the Chicago Bears game on Sunday Night Football starts, half the Lane Cake is gone, and I now have a craving for a cocktail. And some of you wonder why I keep Mark around.

Puppy Chow

Right now I feel as though I have a thousand cuts on my legs. Saturday morning, Barb from Abandoned Pet Rescue, brought two adorable puppies over to the house for me to baby sit. It was for less than an hour, but in that time Maverick, and Rembrandt managed to not only slice and dice my legs, but they terrorized Sasha, and made mad friends with Chandler. Sasha's problem was that they jumped up on the bed, and Sasha considers the bed to be her territory. She was not happy. Chandler on the other hand, loved playing with the two little midgets. They are a miniature poodle/rat terrier mix, and Chandler outweighs them by about eighty five pounds, but that didn't matter. The two little females ran circles around Chandler. It became love when one of them clawed her way up my leg, and onto the arm of my chair so that she could lick Chandler's ear. He loves to be touched, and it doesn't matter by who or what or where on his body he's touched. Eventually I had to move the party outside because it was getting much too rowdy.

The reason I had the puppies is that we were taking them to the Jet Blue employee health fair at the airport. I like doing these meet and greet events, where we take some of the dogs from the shelter, and try to entice folks to adopt them. Because nothing says adopt me like cute puppies being led around by some old guy in shorts with bloody, scratched up legs.

Photo Friday

What's wrong with this photo?

Vacation, Chicago 1998 

Video Thursday

I Can't Sleep Doc

I like documentaries. Ever since my eyes started failing me I read less and less, so documentaries are the easy way to learn. The only problem is that I tend to fall asleep at some point. Yesterday morning I was watching a documentary about Steve Bartman, and the Chicago Cubs. Bartman is the poor sap that the Cubs fans blamed for the playoff meltdown in 2003. But that's not the point, the point is I fell asleep. About one hour into the movie, I fell asleep waking up only to see the credits rolling by while drool rolled down my chin. I have also fallen asleep to Michael Moore movies on many occasions, but the worst was that Al Gore documentary called An Inconvenient Truth. I was unconscious thirty seconds into it as Al's twangy, monotonous narration droned on, and on.

My favorite documentary director is of course Ken Burns. I record his docs, and watch them in thirty minute increments so as not to miss something by falling asleep. Just last night I finished watching his newest production called Prohibition. Piggybacking that on top of the HBO show, Boardwalk Empire, made it doubly interesting. The only problem was not that I was falling asleep, but that it made me want to drink. Seeing all that booze being smashed up, and all that beer flowing in the streets made me want to suck down a vodka cocktail. So I did. In fact during each segment of the movie I watched, I knocked down two or three cocktails. I didn't fall asleep this time, and I think I saw the whole thing. As for having a buzz while watching it, well, it was kind of like that gimmick they used to have in the movie theaters back in the 1970's called Sensurround.