(Because of a variety of circumstances, Lisa and I are taking a Figs break. But! For those who just started reading the blog, I'm going to reach deep into the wayback machine and toss up some old Figs for your enjoyment.)
“I know. Right?” The poodle said.
They called him Pierre The Piddler, Stainer of Carpets.
But in the deepest recesses of his doggy heart, he longer for something more dignified, like Thor or, even, Fluffy.
“But here we are,” P the P sighed. “One incident is all these people needed. And don’t even get me started on the fur pom-pons and polka dots. Do I comment on their accidents? No. No, I do not. Because I have standards.”
Then he lay down, covered his snout with his dainty paws, and dreamed of bunny-filled meadows and peanut butter trees.
Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.
* Mike Rowe: Undressed.
* Don't even know what to say about this.
* Sue Perkins on "soft balls." (NSFW) (Really.)
* I just happen to have a waffle maker and an intense curiosity.
* Wrong Mom.
* I suffer from Tsundoku.
* Big wigs.
* Love that dirty water.
* O. M. G.
Computer mice don't last long in this house. Not because the humans are especially hard on them but because Lucy likes to snatch them up and chomp them.
This wouldn't be a problem, mind, if the kids' computer, which is my very, very old Mac, could be operated without a mouse. It can't anymore because the touchpad packed it in at least three years ago.
It also woudn't be a problem if the kids used it someplace other than my office floor and/or could remember to put the mouse up on my desk when they were done with it. Lucy isn't a tall dog, nor is she a great jumper. The mouse would be safe.
And, yet. The last week saw me at Office Max buying yet another computer mouse.* I had something of an epiphany in the computer accessory aisle, when I snatched up the cheapest mouse and realized why it was so cheap. It still had a cord. A cord! Why did I not think of this earlier?
Lucy, of course, still tries to steal it.** But she can't get far -- and won't chomp on it if she can't take it to the dining room downstairs. Genius. I just wish I'd thought of it four mice ago.
*Yes, I did think about letting them both experience the natural consequences of forgetting to pick the mouse up. The Tween, however, needs a computer for her math homework and I am sure as heck not letting her use mine.
** In that picture, it's under her belly, which is where she'd dragged it before running out of cord.
I am not a lover of poetry in general, but the poets I love, I love deeply.
“And then Jack chopped down what was the world's last beanstalk, adding murder and ecological terrorism to the theft, enticement, and trespass charges already mentioned, and all the giant's children didn't have a daddy anymore. But he got away with it and lived happily ever after, without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done...which proves that you can be excused for just about anything if you are a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.”
-- Terry Pratchett, Hogfather.
Also: Here's my another mother runner recap for the Pgh Half Marathon. And, spoiler alert, I'll still be blogging over there on a regular basis. Woo! (Also, also: anyone local want to carpool to next year's Pgh Half?)
Sorry about the silence yesterday. The transition from badass mother runner back to working mom (who is in the middle of finals) has been hectic. At best. Until we reach stability* again, have a corgi, who is wearing a bandanna I picked up for her at the Pittsburgh Marathon Expo.
ARL Paws Over Pittsburgh does some good work, by the way. And the volunteers really don't mind someone talking their ears off about the wonder of corgis. Ask me how I know....
* (stable for this house, anyway)
Right. Home again and struggling to get Back On Top of Things. Until then, some other things. Many of them.
* Gluten intolerance isn't new.
Before I hit the long road home, this is what a mother runner of steel looks like at the end of a long, good day.
I may wear my medal everywhere for the next week. You have been warned.
More later. Now we drive.
"If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”
― Kathrine Switzer, 26.2: Marathon Stories
And this week's Martini Friday is live at another mother runner. Cider is involved.