Tuesday, September 29, 2015

super bloody moon

After getting caught up in all of the excitement about this magical doomsday moon, SB and I hiked to the hills over Tai Tam reservoir to behold the autumn lunar event. We began having misgivings hours before when we observed the not-unusual cover of haze (pollution) and gathering clouds but decided to go ahead because...well, because we didn't exactly have anything better to do. By the time that it was dark, the cloud cover all but obscured any sight of the moon. Well, darn.

SB's eldest sister had no better luck from her location in Pittsburgh, where there was also cloud cover. SB's brother has been in a month-long snit and was not contacted. His ire is directed at the eldest sister but we all feel the effects of his wrath (he takes after their father in this regard). My sister was useless; her child is a year and a half old but she still has pregnancy brain and can't be counted on to add one and one together, much less draw a curtain and look out the window to observe the moon. SB's youngest sister was our last hope. She reported that she saw the moon, and that was all. As she aspires to be a journalist, we had greater expectations from her. At least a description of the colour would have been nice...

Meanwhile, everyone waiting on their roofs for the end of the world were thwarted, yet again, as they are thwarted every time the end of the world or apocalypse, whatever, is predicted. Pastor Hagee and all of his cohorts quickly rushed to clarify that when they said end of times blood moon, they didn't mean this particular one, sorry if you misunderstood. But please keep sending in your donations, heh, heh.

All was not for naught, because I saw my first porcupine after years of finding evidence of them. It rushed past us, looking very large, probably due to being in full plumage or bristlage or however you refer to porcupines that have their quills puffed out. I assume that it was passing us in flight from the furbabies who were prancing ahead in the dark. Did you know that rustling porcupine quills sound not too dissimilar to a snake rattle? So I learned one new thing that evening.

Friday, September 25, 2015

desperately devoted

Tippytoes has a bit of a problem. I don't know how it came about exactly but one day, seemingly out of the blue, she cast her eyes in my direction and suddenly realized that she loved me. I mean, really, really loved me. It was like in those romantic fictions, when the character is suddenly struck by Cupid's arrow. The next thing that I knew, she was frantically licking me to the point that I had to wear knee socks for several weeks until she finally calmed down. A year later, she is still desperately attached to me but without the full on psychosis. Now instead of showing me her love with a tongue bath, she usually settles for throwing herself on top of me or rolling belly up before me, usually while I am trying to step around her. I love her, though. How can I not when she has such good taste? I meant that figuratively, by the way.

SB and I recently took a short trip to San Francisco to attend a wedding and visit my nephew. It was the first time that both of us left the dogs and I was a stress ball about it, but our dog sitter reported that all was well aside from Tip not eating very well. When SB and I returned, we were not too surprised that both dogs threw themselves at us in a frenzy of excitement. Elsie raced back and forth, hauling over her most beloved toys to offer as tribute, while Tippy flailed about like a fish and made weird, crying noises. After having our flight delayed by eight hours and all of our luggage lost (how do you not load all of the luggage when the plane is at the gate for eight hours?!) it was a very pleasurable homecoming.

After returning from my first day back at the office, I was greeted with only slightly less enthusiasm from Tippy. Unfortunately, I was exhausted and promptly went to bed, leaving her apparently dissatisfied with the amount of cuddling that I had imparted. At some point during my deep slumber, I felt a thump on the mattress and suddenly, there was my dog. The bed is a lovely teak framed canopy that is high from the floor. I cannot touch the floor with my short legs when I sit at the edge of the bed. I was impressed by how Tippy managed to leap onto the bed, though she will not be allowed to repeat her performance.

While I was delirious with fatigue, Tippy was able to take advantage and lick me frantically, like she used to a year ago. At some point I had to pull her from where she was latched onto my armpit and suckling. Because she's a weirdo like that. Then she proceeded to lick my face and managed to stick her tongue in my mouth as I was grumbling at her to stop. Now, I adore my dog as much as any other crazy dog lover, but I am not a fan of being french kissed by a canine. There are those people who are down with receiving wet, slobbery face kisses, but I am not one of them.

My best friend is one. Not only does she kiss her dog, but I once saw her sharing breakfast with it, as in both of them licking the same cereal spoon together. All I can say about that is it's a good thing that she is a gorgeous redhead with a rocking body because it means that her husband is too busy staring at her boobs to notice that she's making out with a chihuahua. Me, I don't have huge boobs so I guess that I'm better off being normal.