Posts (page 2)
My book lists are in Judith-years rather than calendar-years. Here's year 35 in random order (thanks, LibraryThing!). Of the 83 books, 62 of these books were checked out from the library, one was a reread, and several were gifts. 44 by women, 39 by men, mostly Americans & Brits, more fiction than nonfiction, no poetry listed because I tend to read poems a few at a time rather than cover to cover. The list only counts completed books, even though the half-finished monolith of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell should count for more.
Don't Get Too Comfortable : The Indignities of Coach Class, The Torments of Low Thread Count, The Never- Ending Quest fo by 
Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tus by 
In Cole Valley this morning, in front of Cole Hardware, we met a small boy and his dog.
You can pet him if you'd like, he said. I did, and asked what kind of dog he was. A Jack Russell Terrier, the boy said, his name is Vito. My dog is a Jack Russell Terrier too, I said, his name is Lyle.
We sometimes call him Vito Vito The Doggie Torpedo, he said, bashfully. I sometimes call him Lyle Lyle Crocodile, I said, and we smiled at each other and went our separate ways.
Every single time I sit down on the couch to eat, Lyle gives me the big dog eyes and then brings over all of his toys, one by one, and lays them at my feet.
This seems to be either a gesture of "Hello? Do we not share things in this household? I would like some food, would you like my squeaky duck?" or "Ho ho! I will distract the human with the rope toy and steal the food for myself!"
In either case, perfectly absurd and amusing.
Lyle approves my last post.
How did you meet your current, or most recent, significant other?
My current significant other's name is Lyle. We met at the SPCA. He's swell.
Squeaky Lamb has floppy legs, but Squeaky Duck has a better squeak.
Lyle loves big dogs, isn't sure about little dogs and has no idea what to make of cats. Kind of like me.
Our vet's name is Dr Borat. He did not mention Pamela Anderson once.
It is very exhausting to be a dog and you must spend a lot of time lounging dramatically all over your person.
I am ready to quit my job and spend my entire day taking walks with Lyle and then napping with him on the couch and occasionally playing with the squeaky duck.
I've been thinking about getting a dog for a long time now. And I've always been very very clear about the sorts of dogs I like and the sorts of dogs I don't like.
Likes: Big dogs! Smart dogs! Mellow dogs! Smooth soft dogs!
Dislikes: Little dogs! Fluffy or wiry dogs! Hyper dogs!
I've taken a million "breed selector" tests and always wound up with the dog I most wanted, a greyhound. And while I thought it would be reasonable to go to the pound and look at some mutts, I never imagined falling for, say, a Jack Russell Terrier. Who is small. And not very mellow. And wiry. And coming home with me on Tuesday.
Everyone's all about the advent calendars, but I always had a soft spot for clicktoaddtitle. I'd always hoped Leslie and Michael would get to rounds four through seven at some point. That unfinished work has all the hallmarks of everything I knew about Leslie: smart, funny, obnoxious, playful and utterly memorable.
The dog people called this morning and said that they really think this dog shouldn't be in the city and needs a multi-dog house with a yard. I'm sad.
