EEE

Eagles: I so often wonder how we would view eagles if Ben Franklin had gotten his way with installing turkeys as our national bird. I don't think we'd eat them (an eagducken doesn't sound so good), but I don't think they'd be so revered, either. I like to see eagles in the wild, but I also love hawks and herons and flamingos. (Damn. I need to do this A to Z challenge all about birds, obviously). And turkeys, too, come to think of it. And unlike turkeys, eagles mostly eat carrion: we condemn vultures for this, but in the beloved eagle, we just pretend they only eat fresh fish and defend freedom in their spare time. (Apparently I have eagle angst. Hm).

Easter: He is risen indeed. Well, not yet, because it's Maundy Thursday, but pretty soon...I really loved the drama of this holiday in our little Lutheran church. On Good Friday, we strip the alter bare, in acknowledgement of the solemnity of the crucifixion, and we sing sad, mournful songs. On Sunday, the white cloths come out (which I think my family donated after my Grandpa Art died), and the festivities begin. I no longer worship with this or any congregation, but the many years I did left several moving memories behind, and this is one of them. Easter also meant the annual cousins' Easter Egg Hunt, in which the girl cousin and boy cousin who found the most eggs each won a prize. I was at a clear advantage, as I was the eldest of the second round of girl cousins, and Dawn, Jess, Kristen, and Logan never really had much of a chance. There is something thrilling about a search for colorful hardboiled eggs when 10 other kids you've known your whole life are trying to beat you to them. In related news, at least once a year (usually around now) Shaun and I try to watch Jesus Christ Superstar, because we both love it so.

Ether: Did you know that the use of ether as an anaesthetic during childbirth first came into popularity with Queen Victoria, who was knocked out with it in 1853 for the birth of her 8th child, and recommended it? Of course this led to the medicalization of childbirth, and, well, I can't get into all of that here. But the idea of a queen setting such a trend is ... unsettling to me.

May your eagles, Easters, and ether all be administered in appropriate ways, gentle readers. And may the eggs in your basket always outnumber your cousins'.

Doggone it.

These goofy dogs act like litter mates. They're almost exactly the same age (each just over 1 year) and though they have very different personalities, when they're together they just want to tear each other into bits. Figuratively speaking, I mean.

They're so damn cute.

A story with no discernible moral (and sadly, no photos).

About three miles before V, Seven, and I arrived at the in-laws lake home today, V cried from the backseat "I spilled! Oh!" I glanced back to see a large puddle (nearly a pool) of chocolate milk, rapidly moving toward our white dog. For some insane reason, I travel without a full sized bath towel in the front seat, so there was nothing I could do. V was upset, though, and not just because she'd lost the last cup (or more) of her chocolate milk. "Aaah!" What now? "He's DRINKING IT!" Good. Maybe he'll soak less of it into his tail that way.

But as we got out of the car, it was clear that a full half of the dog's fur was chocolatey down to the skin. Now, at our house, I probably would've toweled him off and called it good, but, you know, the in-laws might notice a chocolate milk coating on their carpet and sofa, and their two dogs would certainly notice Seven's new hairdo.

What to do? There was no choice: get V to don her swimsuit, and then toss the dog in after her. He promptly ran out, but I caught him, we washed him, and now he's all fluffy, lake-scented dogginess, with just a hint of chocolate. Yum, yum.

Happy end of summer, y'all.

Something fishy (not suitable for mealtimes. Or anytime, really)

Minnesota, with more coastline than Florida & Hawaii combined, is full of wholesome outdoorsy goodness. We enjoy the weather with outdoor meals, splashing in the clear waters, and fishing for sport and food.

 And sometimes Mother Nature sends a little reminder of how things really are. Right into our idyllic vacation.

 All three of the kids were fascinated, and Jess and I tried hard to hide our complete disgust. Royal nastiness, this.

We still took the time to photograph it, though, so I could share it with all of you. Aren't you glad I'm always thinking of the blog?

Puppy love

It's a little amazing to me how quickly he just became a part of our family; we were three, and now we're four. He's woven in to V's imaginary stories, he's a part of our morning/afternoon/evening routine, and when we're away, we all miss him. Life is too short to not share it with a dog, for me anyway.

Sweet Seven, we're so glad you're here!

Gus the toad

Will, V and I rescued a toad from a window well in Fargo today. We brought him home, named him Gus, and let him go in the garden. But first we took some pictures. (Thanks to Charlotte for the inspiration).

 As a girl growing up in Hendrum, I played with toads and frogs as soon as I could walk. My daughter and nephew, however, have many more forms of entertainment available to them. This was, as far as I can recall, their first toad.

 "You touch him." "No, you go ahead."

 "His belly is squishy, but his back is rough," V said with genuine wonder when she finally worked up the courage to let me place him in her hands. I don't know how it is that I've raised a child with so little toad experience in her first five years.

Gus, to his credit, was very patient. And now he's free.

Holiday Weekend in Nine Photos

Seven recovers nicely, it turns out.

After a week, Seven got to take his silly cone collar off, and his eye is so much better. We still don't know if he has vision in that eye, but since it's finally considerably smaller than a tennis ball, and it isn't hurting him, we are happy dog owners. Someone recently pointed out that his breed is the best, because it's the two swears: bichon/shih tzu. For some reason I find this completely delightful.

 We're still working on the finer points of housetraining, and he likes to bark a lot at our neighbor's three dogs (who bark at him even more). But he is so soft, and every so often he comes over, and rubs against my shin with his goofy face, and we feel pretty lucky to have such a sweet addition to our family.

How could anyone not love that fluffy face? Awwww...

What we're enjoying right now....

 Backyard wildlife.

 Visiting the in-laws.

Soft pupdog cuddling.

Hope your June is going beautifully.

My kind of sculpture

The shelter where we went to adopt Seven is a working ranch, with all kinds of fauna. And as we drove in, it was pretty clear that if my crazy neighbor Kathy and I lived on a farm together, this would be the kind of place we'd have.

 Most notable, aside from the turkeys, llamas, dogs, peacocks, ducks, geese, and cats, were the mannequin heads.

 Atop the fence posts, with silk flower accoutrement.

And the occasional farmyard diorama.

 One of the members of the board has a beauty school, and donates heads each season. I'm so jealous. And I love how they look after enduring the Northern Minnesota winters.

 I love a girl with an Ankh earring....

Or a fella with a head full of blooms.
I was so grateful they let me take photos, because they are really hard to describe effectively. Now, who knows where I can get myself some mannequin heads?

Ebony and Ivory

Seven meeting Rocket for the first time.

Thanks for all your happy responses to Seven! Some of you had questions about him, and since he's all I want to talk about lately, I'm more than happy to do another post.

We found Seven through Petfinder.com, a lovely way to yank your own heartstrings. I have read more than enough student essays on puppy mills to convince me of the importance of pet adoption, but we've also had our share of less than perfect pets through adoption. I do recommend pet adoption, though, to anyone considering pet ownership.  There are so damn many dogs (and cats, and bunnies....) waiting.

We didn't have a name chosen when we went to pick him up, but we had fun on the drive home: V liked Milk, Coconut, and Vanilla (but she may have just needed a snack). I loved Umlaut and Dr. Nutbucket (any pet name that begins with "Dr." or "Mr." is automatically funnier). Shaun was unimpressed, until I mentioned numbers. Eleven? Five? (I liked Five, because V is, of course, a roman numeral....) I said we could name him Nine, after Roger Maris. And it came to us, clearly, as a family, that this little dog should be named Seven. It's a Seinfeld reference, and also V was born on the seventh of September. And it's a lucky number. And Mickey Mantle's. And none of us hated it (though I cried a little to lose Dr. Nutbucket).

Aside from his eye, Seven is healthy (knock on wood!), though he does sometimes make funny little hiccup/burp noises when he sleeps. It's just about the cutest sound ever.

The rumors you have heard are true.

We have a new dog.  We've named him Seven.

 He's a bichon-shih-tzu cross, and will be one year old on June 25th. We got him from a rescue, who got him from a puppy mill. He's housetrained, and kinda quiet, and he is completely in love with V.

 An hour before we picked him up, he got bitten in the eye by another dog. These photos are from day one and two; by day three, he was an unholy mess (I have photos, but you don't want to see them). $160 worth of dog medications later, his eye is getting better, and hopefully he'll get to have his funny cone-shaped collar removed by the end of the week.

 A warm bundle of fluffy love at my feet? Oh, mercy, I've missed this.

V reads to Seven, and Seven loves V. I hope they have many years of adventures together.

Our Little Zoo

I have an affinity for peacocks. You do what you will with that information: I just like them.

And the peacocks at our zoo are fairly tame, letting us take close ups before indignantly walking away, or glaring at us until we're shamed into leaving them be. 

 The photo above made me contemplate what peacock must taste like. Is that wrong?

 Two of the most interesting subjects at the zoo, above.

This is the meerkat sentinel. He was very, very observant. And a little twitchy.

The llama's dental issues concerned Shaun. I told him all llamas look like that, but I was totally bullshitting. I don't know anything about llamas.

The peahens hang out on the playground equipment. I'm sure they're irritated when excited 5 year olds want to go down the slide with them. I imagine that when the zoo closes, they  do carefully choreographed dances using the chain ladders.

Is it just zoos in North Dakota that have prairie dog exhibits? I hope not.

If not for their creepy eyes, I would totally want a baby goat to come and live with us. So cute! Of course they grow into bigger goats who can eat the laundry off the line, so it's probably for the best.

Our sunny days have been rare so far, but this was a good one.

List #14: Animals I would tend if I had the resources/wherewithall*

9. Octopus (octopi?) They are the coolest invertebrates.
8. Peacocks. Duh.
7. Turkey vultures. I don't know why. I just like them.
6. Tortoises. True story: my dad once brought home a rather large snapping turtle for my sister and I and the neighborhood kids to play with. For a little while. Then we let him go. What kind of a parent lets their kids play with a snapping turtle? That's right. Mine.
5. Sugar gliders: ohfercute. SERIOUSLY.
4. Penguins. I picked the Argentinian penguins because I just watched The Motorcycle Diaries not too long ago (it has nothing to do with penguins...). And March of the Penguins made me cry.
3. A murder of crows, oh, harbingers of death, oh feathered apes. What's not to love?
2. Koi. Did you know they can live OVER 200 YEARS? Jesus. Really, you shouldn't get a pet that several generations of your family will be obligated to care for long after you die. Or should you? Hm...
1. Tasmanian devils. A carnivorous marsupial that can crush its enemy's skull? Yes please.

* despite recently watching episode 40 of Hoarders. Sweet holy moses.

Rocket loves Shaun

I love dogs. Love, love, love, love, love them. My whole life, I've had beloved dogs: Toosk, Josh & Cookie, Toosk II & Zoe Johnson, Zuul & Egon....I love how they smell, how they show devotion, how they play fetch. I love dogs.

But ever since Egon, we've been a pet-free home.  And I don't like it. But, I mean, I understand the positives, too: During the school year, I work all the damn time, and though Shaun likes dogs okay, he does not have the love love love that I do for them.  It's much easier not having to train a dog, or clean up during the training, or being home every 4 hours or finding someone else who can be.  But man, I miss having a furball curled up behind my knees (besides Shaun, I mean). I miss slobbery dog kisses and playing tug with rope toys.

Enter Rocket: my sister's family's sweet dog. He looks like an ewok, hardly ever barks, and is a loving ball of chewing fur. And having a dog nephew is almost the best of both worlds: we get to love him up whenever we're at Jess', and we aren't responsible for his training, grooming, or chewing. And once in awhile, when we're lucky, he comes to visit at our house. And snuggles in behind my knees. Ah. It's not as good as my own sweet pupdog, but it's a whole lot better than nothin'.