Sunday, March 31, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
Friends, in an effort to be proactive regarding the ultimate demise of Google Reader, I persuaded Momma to do the Feedly thing yesterday. But we are now having some mental anguish.
Do you see this screen shot? It's my Google Reader and on the left hand side it has a list of all of my feeds.
But now look at my Feedly. Under My Feedlist it not only has a little subset of my feeds, but the contents of the list itself seem to change somewhat whimsically. Not to mention, I have no use for that stupid financial section and would like very much for it to go away.
I know that it imported my feeds because the unread item count is correct. I am looking for help from some alert and savvy reader who can tell me how to get my full list of subscriptions back in the margin.
And now, let me ask for your sympathy and support regarding the foolish images clogging up our flashy beast. Images of things other than yours truly.
First, this turkey atop our garage. That is newsworthy because?
And this shocking and heartbreaking photo of my momma putting the love on none other than Porky Pig Nephew Oliver. Bad enough I had to suffer through three days of him living in my house, but to see this and have to smell his stinkiness all over momma after being abandoned for hours, well, it is almost too much to bear.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Two posts in one week? With any luck, Momma will soon be back to helping me read blogs.
One can only hope.
Plus I need her to get on the stick and move my blog list out of Google Reader before it vanishes (paws down to Google on that one).
Driving around town often feels to yours truly like a carnival ride and I confess to sometimes getting a bit woozy from all the bumps and bounces.
That, my friends, is due to the numerous potholes which are opened up every winter by the aggressive plowing and chemical application, all in the name of keeping the roads safe for motorists.
Check out this (rather conservative and poorly patched) crater at the end of our street.
Just yesterday, Momma had the Pea-Mobile in the car hospital for yet another repair on the suspension. She claims it is due to potholes. Personally, since the repairs are always in the rear area, I am of the belief that the vehicle suffered structural damage from all those years with a 200 pound load in the dog compartment.
Even the sidewalks aren't safe now that our town has purchased a new monster sidewalk plow.
|Maybe we should go a different route. This looks just right for making momma fall on her face.|
This one is particularly vexing. No ordinary pothole, rather, the plows popped the top right off the protective covering of a hole leading to places unknown (where no doubt there are vicious creatures waiting to bitey the faces of doggies who linger too long).
|I think I smell Australia.|
But I doubt you tuned in to see how our local DPW will be keeping busy over the summer.
Quite a stir from my previous post.
Momma took this shockingly blurry photo of the helpful sign on blue man #4. Since I doubt you can read it, let me fill you in.
It seems our library is running a "spot the whale" program to encourage reading (something of which I wholeheartedly approve). To which end they have placed the blue men with whales about town, along with fact sheets regarding whales.
This didn't exactly get me fired up to run out and grab a copy of Moby Dick, but I applaud their efforts.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Momma: Hey Dex! Let's try out that new walkie technique your teacher, Miss Lisa, recommended.
Me: You mean the Leash Dragon? No thanks.
Momma: Why not?
Me: Well, just think about it.
Momma: Oh Dex, what an imagination you have. Come on, it's an exercise to give you more freedom on walkies whilst simultaneously increasing your momma awareness.
Me: The only freedom I'll have is an increased awareness that I can outrun you when the dragon swoops in.
Momma: Please, Pea, for me?
Me: I love it when you call me Pea. It makes me feel all squishy inside. But the answer is still no.
Momma: I'll take that as a yes.
Me: Hey momma! Pay attention! My leash is draggin' in the dirt and.... oh.... I see.
Dragon. Draggin'. The two words were so much alike.
Momma: They were. They still are, though years have rolled over their heads.
Me: And I suppose now you expect me to say something like "Well, Momma, if you conscientiously feel that it is your duty to Leash Dragon me, I cannot blame you for acting on that conviction."
Momma: Well, yes, that's the idea.
P.S. From Momma:
Leash dragging is, indeed, an exercise to provide a bit more freedom on walkies, allow the handler to practice verbal commands at a distance, and minimize the signals coming down the leash. First, let me point out that Dexter is five years old, a lab, has had many hours of training, and been on well over 1000 walks with me. Which is to say that we do not have issues with persistent pulling or crazies on our walks, but could use a tune up.
Attach a long line to your dog, hold the handle loosely in your hand and go (allowing the slack to drag along the ground). Minimize verbal commands. The idea is for your dog to know where you are. Give him or her a pat and a "good dog" whenever he or she returns to your side. Practice in an open area at first, with lots of changes in direction, starts, and stops. Don't look at your dog. Just go about your business.
We've been letting the leash drag on and off for a week or so to great effect. I am relying on voice commands to ask him to stop at street crossings, but letting the leash tell him when to move along or slow down. I still reel him in for close encounters, but overall, a big improvement. While he can feel the drag of the leash, it is a consistent pull, not directed at me.
I use a 20 foot, half inch, canvas leash. I also have a 50 footer for open spaces, but have found that to get quite heavy and bogged down. Our land speed is improved as well since when he pauses to snuffle I can walk right by him and should he still be snuffling when I reach the end of the 20 feet, I just keep going with a short jerk and we are away. I doubt I will ever have the confidence to go off leash, that's just not in my nature, but I am enjoying more relaxed walks and when I switch back to the six footer for our evening strolls, there is more loose leash than ever before.
Here's a very short video of Dex demonstrating his "wait."
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Momma: Well, Dex, it's been almost a week since Oliver went home. Do you miss him?
Momma: Wasn't it fun having him here? Does it kind of make you wish you had a brother or sister who lived here all the time?
Momma: Because, I think that Mango's half sister will be having a litter in the summer and...
Momma: OK! No need to yell. How about we go check on the bird feeders?
Momma: Hey Dex, what are you doing?
Me: I'm making a zoomie path so that we can play tennis ball.
Momma: Oh Dex, there's too much snow for tennis ball.
Me: No there isn't. Just throw along my runway and we'll be fine.
Momma: You know that won't work. I can't throw precisely enough and then you lose the ball and I have to slog through the deep snow to find it and it makes me tired.
Me: Big deal. You could use the exercise. Come on, let's go!
Momma: Hey! Are you implying I'm out of shape?
Me: Not at all. Just noting that your jeans are kind of full lately. Now hop to it.
Momma: I think my jeans are shrinking in the dryer.
Me: If you say so, now can we please play ball?
Momma: OK, but if I miss the path, I'm not going to get the ball for you.
Me: Um, this is kind of awkward, but I seem to have lost track of the ball.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Apparently I was misinformed regarding the parameters of a slumber party. While I thought it meant one night of romping and swapping stories followed by fond farewells in the morning, it seems that when it comes to my nephew Oliver, well, sort of like The Dog Who Came to Dinner because here it is Saturday and he is still in residence.
Momma lent him one of my old sports bras so that he could waddle along with us on walkies. Something of an intrusion if you ask me since he tends to slow us down.
|Nothing to see, move along.|
I feel it is my duty as a mature and dignified labradog to try and instruct him in proper lab comportment.
|Quick, momma, take the photo while he is holding still.|
But his gears are as loose as a pair of jeans on teenage boy and to my dismay he quickly loses focus and resorts to cracker dog behavior.
|Get a grip, buddy.|
He even engages in the occasional (and unexpected) burst of zoomie speed. As you can see, I am dumbfounded as to how he is able to obtain lift on his generous backsides.
|Slow down and stay in the lanes, please.|
To his credit, he is seeking my counsel more and more and as distasteful as it is, I put up with his attempts to show respect by licking my labralips.
|OK, OK, enough adulation. I need to go brush my teeth now.|
And it isn't all bad. In fact, I think I'm going to kind of miss him when he goes home. After all, I haven't had a good wrestling partner in some time and for brief spurts, he's actually fun.
Sure, why not? He is, after all, a labradog and while not the best labradog in the world (which would be yours truly), he has a certain endearing joie de vivre which is hard to ignore.