Memes and other crap

MEME

Well, I've been tagged again. And I notice that Sloop keeps checking, so I'd better hold up my end of the deal...

Top 5 Childhood Memories

1. Laying in my room every night, watching the light cast on my ceiling from Mr. Butcher's driveway below. Mister Butcher, for some reason, would go out to his garage every night at about the same time (9-ish). On his way out, he'd turn on the area light, then go on back. He was old, so he walked slow and worked methodically, at least as far as I could see. I'd see him head out there, and then head back to his house about 10 minutes later, and the light would go out. Strangely, something about that routine made everything seem alright.
   
2. Laying in my other room (other side of the house), watching the searchlight on Rocky Butte swing around every night until it hypnotized me into slumber.
   
3. Spy Club with my friend, Aaron. Huge GI Joe geeks, we would pretend that we were powerful and skilled covert operatives. Attempting to fashion weapons out of common household items, agreeing on who was to be deemed good and evil, and relentlessy torchering Aaron's little brother, we (at least felt like we) owned the neighborhood.
   
4. Getting caught shoplifting. Actually, getting caught after shoplifting. As a kid, I was a little bit of a klepto. Once, I somehow managed to secret away a pack of dominoes from Fred Meyer's. Later, my mom saw me playing with it and asked where I'd acquired it. I tried to offer a good lie, but she wasn't biting, and I couldn't hold up in my youth to her scrutiny. She drug me back to the store, where I had to hand the dominoes to the horrified cashier, as I blubbered away and bawled to the point that I couldn't blurt out my pre-scripted admission and apology. My mom promised if she ever caught me with stolen items again, she'd send me straight to JDH. And I believed her...
   
5. The death of my dog. As a kid, I had a dobie named Abraham, who looked alot like my current dog, except with boy parts and a bobbed tail and redder fur. He was bought, I'm pretty sure, to be my step-dad's dog, but there was no mistaking that he was mine. We were fast friends, and we were inseparable. But he got some sort of cancer, and eventually one night my mom had to take him for one last trip to the vet. The kind he wouldn't be returning from. I remember standing out on my front lawn, crying and staring at the stars, asking God why my friend was being taken away. It was sad, but it's one of those things I won't be forgetting. It's the one thing that almost kept me from taking on the new pup...

Now I'm s'posed to tag 5 people. Mak, OC, Betsy, Denise, and JLowe, you're up...

OTHER CRAP

Haven't done much writing lately. What gives? A combination of not much to write about, and no real desire to write besides. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the fatigue of my new gym routine. Whatever it is, I just haven't felt like boring anyone with bad writing.

I'm guessing it will be reasonable to expect a bit of a slow-down for the next few weeks. Need to spend time with my pregnant Missus and my duties getting stuff ready. Not to say there'll be whole weeks with no writing. In fact, my hope is that when I do write, it'll be better than some of the drivel I put out when I'm pressing to just post anything (more my M.O. at the Metroblog, to be completely honest). So, by all means, keep checking back. Just don't be too shocked if I've taken the day off.

Speaking of, today was a beautiful Saturday. Went to the gym. Had some coffee. Spent time at another famous Halo competition with work buddies. Did some housework. And went to a lovely housewarming party.

By far, the best part of the day (sorry boys) was the party, where I got to hang out with a few of my favorite work friends.

There was CW and BT (not necessarily in that order...)


There was Hozay...


And, most importantly, there was The Missus (note the preggers-ness of her tummy!)...


A great day to be out and about.

Tomorrow, the river!

Catch ya later.

I love my puppy

I mean, really, how could you not love this face?

Must be summer...

Although some of us were, perhaps, fooled by the un-winterly warmth of February into thinking it couldn't get any hotter, or maybe there were some of us who believed the eventual March showers brought upon us a blotting out of the sun making February a brief "All Summer In a Day"-ish spell in a long, wet year, we now see the truth. The typical, hot, long Portland Summer has returned.

Last summer found me in the basement of my rental home, just beginning to step into the blogosphere, and lamenting the heat outside. Already, I expect general similarities between last summer and this one. Inside, check. On my computer, check. Basement, check (moved the office down to make room for the nursery). Blogging, check. Lamenting heat, here we go.

Man, it's hot outside. I know, as a typical Portlander, I'm a wuss about heat. My friend CW just got back from Vegas, where she reports temperatures as high as 116 degrees. What we have here is hot, but 116 degrees is hideous.

Despite our relative good fortune, I complain, because that's how God has wired me in this regard. This summer is superior to last in the sense that now we have central air, where last summer consisted of sleepless, ineffective-fan-using nights. And I've been able to reclaim my grill, which allows me to pump more heat into the atmosphere if I'm not quite miserable enough with the sweat rolling from my man-busoms.

The good thing about hot summers is that they force me back to the gym. Not only because I come to the realization that I'd be cooler without the seven inches of fat blanketing my entire person, but also because I remember that my gym is air conditioned, and thus avoiding it is foolish.

It's with that in mind that I started this year's annual fitness regimen yesterday. Got up, got dressed, and hauled my lazy butt to the gym for a short re-introductory workout. Nothing intense. Nothing hard. Just a reminder to my joints of what it feels like when I move them. I made it in this morning at 5 am, after dropping my wife off at work. So, with two days under my belt, I proclaim success in re-establishing the trend.

Before we got our dog, before we bought our house, there seemed to be more room in the schedule for working out. Now I've noticed that there's never enough time after work, and I've found it increasingly difficult to get away for a lunch hour. Which means I have to carve time from the unused early-morning bank that has, to this point, worked rather well for sleeping.

Ugh.

Along with all of this exercise, I've decided to re-instute culinary discipline in my life. Having tried two diets in the past year or so, and having had various degrees of success and satisfaction with each, I've opted to go back to the "Blood Type Diet" that helped me lose 40 pounds in my last effort. So, last night I had one last go at chocolate chip cookies and candy, and today I've eaten all sorts of healthy stuff that my body wishes to reject. Of course, this must mean I'm winning.

So, the heat outside, from which I'm cowering in fear, serves both positive and negative purposes. Besides helping my peaches on my peach tree to ripen, and helping my tomatoes to grow, the sun inspires me to lose weight so I can stop pitting out every shirt I wear within 20 minutes. But it also puts me in a sour mood, as I think about how I should be outside, and would be but-for the intense discomfort of the sweat drops in my eyes.

I hate this conflict.

Catch ya later.

Don't forget...

If you don't see anything new here, you can also see if I've got something new up over at the Portland Metroblog (link to the right ------> )

Ding, dong, the witch is dead!

Not a literal witch. Just the life-sucking, schedule-hogging witch of a case that I was handling that's kept me so silent of late. For those who don't know me well enough to engage me in friendly chit-chat, I've been tied up for the last couple of weeks doing major prep work on a big trial.

Big in the sense that it was a pretty serious case, and big in the sense that it was about two steps above anything I'd handled before. Or maybe three.

This case had been eating my free time. As you may have noticed, I posted the other day during a break in my work on a Saturday. Anyone who follows my Metblogs (link to the right) would see that, as I've been posting various pictures of Portland, several are near the downtown courthouse or (in the case of the 92nd/Holgate mural picture) on the way out to my office in Gresham. Out and about, lately, has meant, out, on my way in.

Anyway, as is typical in trial work, tons of time, sweat, preparation, late night pre-sleep plotting, early morning musing over how best to approach certain things, after work tapping away at my laptop preparing various arguments and questions, calling in witnesses to discuss what they can say, and all that sort of stuff was rewarded by defendants who decided to plea the case out at the last minute.

Which isn't to say I'm upset. I'm not. We got a good result in a not-so-straightforward case.

But, as I was telling my friends last night as they tried to get me out to the office softball game, God knows who has prepared and who hasn't, and He knows when you're just pretending to prepare, and if you goof off, He punishes you.

So, I stayed home to work on my trial.

The office softball team split their double-header, so all was not lost.

And my preparation was rewarded by a nice victory (though not the form I'd prepared for), as opposed to a grueling disembowling from the vindictive trial gods trying to teach me the importance of having my act together.

So, now, my evenings are freer. I can pop in more. I finally washed my dog today, and took her for a long-awaited walk. I'm going to do dishes and laundry tomorrow. Apparently, I've been scheduled to drive up to Ikea on Saturday.

Fun, fun, fun!

Anyway, I'm glad to be back. As I never take requests for blog discussion items, how 'bout this:

What, if anything, do you want to hear The Pieman's perspective on?

If I refuse to answer, I'll give you a rational basis for my decision.

Oh, and for Denise:

UPDATE ON PIE-BABY
I can't recall the last time I advised of the current state of pregnant affairs. So, here goes.

The Missus is now about 6 months in. She's got a delightful little tummy that, if I can ever sneak a picture of, will make it's way here for your enjoyment. Inside, our soon-to-be Pie-girl (her name will be "Stella") has started moving and kicking, but nothing that I can feel yet. I've started the habit of talking to the baby when I get up in the morning and/or when I go to bed at night. I'm getting very excited, as is my wife. Doctors expect her to pop out right around November 1st, so it's possible she could be a Halloween baby and share her birthday with our puppy. Everything's going swimmingly, and we're all quite happy.

Now that that business is done, I'm off to a softball game with the other team I play with. I'm happy to be able to go out there without having to consider whether I'm interfering with trial-prep time tomorrow for. Sweet relief.

Anyway, catch ya later.

Hi ho, hi ho

It's off to work I go.

Actually, already there. In case you're wondering at my remarkable lack of blathering of late, I've been wicked busy working on a case I'm taking to trial next week. So free time has been at a premium, and spent more with my wife and dog than with you.

Sad, but true.

Right now, I'm in my office, taking a short break from my business to pop in and give you some of my recently-promised opinionations.

LONDON BOMBINGS
This is sad. Very sad.

It makes me look back to the fairly recent past, to the history of terrorist actions that really mattered to us, and in viewing those I see where this may lead.

In September, 2001, we were attacked on four fronts by terrorists in our homeland. Two planes were steered into the twin towers of the World Trade Center, one pierced the Pentagon, and a fourth was, fortunately, brought down by brave passengers in a field in Pennsylvania, where it did little damage except the catastrophic devouring of the lives of the men and women on board.

That attack galvanized us to war. To wars, in fact. That attack led us to spring into Afghanistan, in the name of taking down a terrorist-harboring regime and searching out the people who'd done this to us. It led us into springing into action at home, taking a long, suspicious look at many aspects of our own citizenry as we eroded some of our freedoms in the name of protecting the greater good. And, right or wrong, it led us into Iraq, where the anti-terrorist fervor and fear of the next big thing was leveraged to bring our collective will to bear on extending ourselves in a siege upon old enemies.

It's clear that the 9/11-inspired war on terror has resulted in a mixed bag. On the good side, we've apparently created some form of pseudo-democracy in Afghanistan and Iraq, although both governments are not yet truly able to carry their own weight. We've clamped down hard on known terrorists, and knocked the wind out of the sails of many others, by creating an atmosphere that, although not entirely capable of stopping them, inhibits them to a large degree. We've escaped another attack on our soil. And Saddam Hussein and his evil regime are being held to task for their misdeeds.

On the bad side, America is divided on many fronts, as we continue to battle with eachother not just in terms of what wars we should be fighting as we battle terror, but also how they should be fought. People tear at eachother's idealogical throats, both sides finding different ways to smear the other with the label of "unpatriotic," which has replaced the age-old "C" word (not communist, thinking much more crass) as the ultimate disparagement. Men and women are dying on foreign soil at the hands of some of the very people they are trying to help, and at the hands of others who would attack their own countrymen simply to kill two or three of us.

And governments that have helped us have paid a price as well.

I was in Italy when the Madrid train bombings occurred. I recall the intense reaction in Europe, and I recall watching the elections in Spain swing far from the expected as people reactedto what had occurred in exactly the way it is assumed the terrorists wanted. They threw out the current government, elected a new, pacifist regime, and shortly after Spain announced its impending withdrawal.

Of course, the US and Britain used the Madrid bombings as a rallying opportunity. A further justification for action. And the capital provided by that event has helped in the pursuit of the War on Terror, as America's collective recollection of our seething anger has faded in the 4 years since the WTC was brought down.

Now, England has joined the club. Britain is used to terrorist acts, but these seem to have a different feel to them. Whereas classic British terrorism revolves around a home-grown idealogical rivalry based, at least nominally, on the oppression in various places of certain "Christian" groups (I'm probably over-simplifying, here), this new terrorism is meant to strike at all British people, simply to shock them into inaction or withdrawal.

I'm willing to bet that a very frank national discussion will be held there, and a flurry of diplomacy between the US and Britain will ensue as we try to keep them in the war, even as their people start to question whether the outcome in Iraq and elsewhere is worth the price paid at home.

Whatever the outcome, this much is clear to me: the war on terror must be fought. It will either be fought on our soil or someone else's. It is being fought on both right now. What is key is to ensure that we don't create new terrorists while destroying the old ones. American (and British) goodwill must be dolled out in equal or greater doses than American vengeance. People must understand that we are only doing what is necessary for our good and the good of all others, but at the same time we truly care about those we're fighting among, and will do everything we can to improve their lives while we are with them.

I am Pollyanna.

By the way, am I the only one to notice each attack consisted of four targets? What, if anything, does that mean?

BLAZERS COACH
I was shocked to hear that the Blazers were able to lure Nate McMillan away from Seattle. Of course, deep pockets will do that for you.

At first, I didn't know what to think. Wasn't this the same old problem over again? We'd just rid ourselves of a "players' coach", a former player who'd taken the next step, and struggled along the way, in Mo Cheeks. Nate McMillan is another former guard who is known to identify with players and to work well with them.

This same concern was why I was convinced that, as likeable as he is, Terry Porter wasn't going to be our next coach. Nor should he be. Terry, in my opinion, still needs to develop. I'd personally like to see him as an assistant on our bench.

I have to admit I was hoping the McMillan deal would fall through so that we'd get Marc Iavaroni. Although he doesn't have NBA head-coaching experience, his reputation as a teacher, and the fact he's always approached the game from a coaching standpoint and not a player standpoint, were both important plusses to me. And coming from the Spurs speaks highly of him.

Anyway, when I first heard about McMillan, I was puzzled. It didn't help that I've been in a conference all week, and was unable to really gather any details. But last night and today, I've reflected on the hire and I like it.

Sure, McMillan has been up and down as a coach. I look, though, at what he did last year with a difficult roster, and it's clear that something clicked. Maybe it was just in him; maybe it was between him and his squad. Whatever. It's clear that this guy can coach.

Further, although he's an ex-player, having someone who's known as a tough disciplinarian is a plus with our current squad. I look forward to seeing how Zach and Darius, my least favorite players, react. Either we'll see a whole-sale turnaround in one or both of them, or the implosion will be spectacular and provide me with great fodder for future posts.

Either way, there's definitely reason to be excited about the coming season.

Now, it remains to be seen what changes are made on the roster. Damon's gone. Shareef's gone. Van Exel will be gone. With this hire, it looks like Patterson will be salvaged, meaning (in my opinion) that Derek Anderson will be dumped under the new CBA's amnesty provision. So, our team basically looks like this:

C: Przybilla; Ratliff; Ha
PF: Randolph
SF: Patterson; Miles; Khryapa
SG: Outlaw; Webster; Monya
PG: Telfair; Jack

Once at a log-jam at PF, we now clearly need to pick one up. I'm in favor of bringing in Brian Grant for the vet's minimum as a back-up, if all pans out and the Lakers waive him. But we'll need another warm body there for the inevitable break-down of Randolph in the early-to-mid season and the late-season break-down in Grant. And we could use some experience at the PG to help our back-court players develop.

Should be an interesting month or two.

WHAT'S IN MY POCKETS?
That was actually a joke. However, since you asked, today I have a wallet, my inhaler, some keys, $2.75, my MP3 player, my cell phone, and a digital camera.

I've spent too too much time on this post. Hope to hear what, if anything, you have to say.

Catch ya later.

Le Blogue is one year old today!

I'd do a greatest hits post or something, but I've been absolutely swamped this week. Just needed to toot my own horn.




Come back tomorrow for something original, including (perhaps) discussion on the new Blazers coach, the horrific bombing in London, and a look at whatever is in my pockets at that particular moment.

Indeed, this is the stuff that a year of quality blogging is made of...

Thank God for coffee

Despite the fact that I'm not supposed to drink it...


without it, I would've been useless all day.

I'm actually that dumb

So, the long-ass post I thought was scooped up into the ether?

Still here. Just the wrong time-stamp.

In the interest of academic honesty, I usually change the time-stamps on my posts to the time I actually post them, as opposed to the time I start writing.

I started the long-ass post at 11:-something AM. I went to change the post to noon, which is when I was posting, and accidentally didn't switch the AM to PM.

Lame, I know. Anyway, it's below.

Happy Fourth of July!

Crap (aka It's Independence Day! Join in the American Dream!)

Ugh. I just wrote a HUUUUUGE long post about the State of the Union and my general feelings on the direction of our nation.

Of course, I forgot my own rule and didn't copy the text before publishing.

Needless to say, the whole thing's gone into the ether.

I hate the internet. And I love it. What confusion.

I would just summarize what I said, but that runs the risk of not only making me sound "glib" (to borrow a word from Tom Cruise), but also may make it unclear how conflicted I am so that people might just light into me for what I've stated (or more for what I stated in a post they can't read, thus not allowing them to see the thoughts I've set forth that inform them of my angst).

In celebration of our nation, I ask you, therefore, to answer these questions, in the hopes of causing some sort of ruckus as we exercise our franchise.

1. Political affiliation (not to be confused with how you feel about our current administration)
2. Who you voted for last time (not to be confused with current political affiliation)
3. In respectful and thoughtful terms, how do you feel about our current national government?
4. In respectful and thoughtful terms, how do you feel about our current military situation?
5. If you were president, what would be the first 3 things you would do to change things for the better?

I, of course, will wait to see your responses before answering any of these...

Excercising my rights

To celebrate Independence Day, I'm going to exercise my free speech rights. So you're aware, there's nothing in particular that happened today to prompt this post. I haven't really thought it out, so it may not make sense when it's done. My only goal here is to reflect on our country and to do so publicly in celebration of my freedom to do so.

Laying the cards on the table: I'm a Christian Republican white male who voted for George Bush.

I supported going to war in Afghanistan. After 9/11, going after the terrorists on their turf (and regime change in terrorist-friendly Afghanistan) sounded good to me. I'll never forget the morning we all spent in shock in the Marion County DA's Office, huddling around TV's to see the devastation in New York, DC, and Pennsylvania and wishing we could cancel our court appearances for the day.

I supported going to war in Iraq. Primarily due to the evidence presented to the UN by Colin Powell, universally-respected Secretary of State, coupled with one of the better speeches George Bush has ever given explaining why going to war was necessary.

I'm glad we've ousted Saddam.

I have many friends in the military, and I support them all.

All that said, I'm sickened by our president and tired of our war.

President Bush is, I believe, a good man. A man in touch with his principles who honestly believes that he's doing the right thing. I believe all of that.

That said, I question his decision-making process, I question those advising him, and I wonder if he's got the wherewithal (entirely misspelled, I know) to lead this country at home and abroad.

At home, the economy continues to stagger towards a long-promised recovery. Oil prices increase with no real apparent action from our government to address them, despite the fact that they impact our whole economy. Class warfare continues. Noone is seeking a middle ground from which to guide a consensus of our country (the country of both the reds and blues) somewhere where the majority of us want to go.

Abroad, we are spurned by most of the world. We're distrusted by many, reviled by most. We've developed a cavalier attitude that alienates both our friends and enemies. We're isolationist while thrusting ourselves on others, which are, in my view, incompatible stands.

In Iraq, we're fighting the new Vietnam, unable to tell the difference between our friends and our enemies, who emerge in clusters from amongst our friends to kill us and any of their country-men who get in the way.

We are stuck.

First, before I get flamed as some unpatriotic pinko, let me say this. I agree with the lefties, who I don't consider myself one of, who say that the power of our country comes from our freedom to take place in debate, to raise our opinion in the marketplace of ideas. To be patriotic is to participate, not to sit back and watch. To be American is to raise your voice.

I support our troops. I support my friends in Iraq and other areas of the Middle East. I care about how they are equipped. I want them to be given the tools to succeed. I want them to come home alive, and to be honored for their sacrifice when they do. I'm proud to know each of them.

But this war is a problem.

Having said that I supported going in, and I supported the toppling of Saddam, I understand that wanting out of the war isn't realistic. I want our country out. I don't want any more lives lost. I don't want any more money spent in a situation that often appears hopeless (although things like successful free elections in Iraq are amazing when they come along).

I believe, however, that supporting going in requires me to have the gumption to support doing what it takes to accomplish the objectives set forth in gaining my support. There was the objective of ridding Iraq of WMD. That objective was, depending on your viewpoint, the result of intentional deception or simple misinterpretation of data. Either way, it wasn't the only objective. The other stated objectives were to remove a tyrant who was a terrorist-friendly head of state, and who was a terrorist to his own people, and also to liberate a people from oppression and create an oasis of self-rule in a land of despots. At the time these objectives were stated, there was nigh-universal support from everyone.

Certainly there was from me. And I cheered as American troops went in. And I cheered as Saddam was captured.

I've stopped cheering. It's been a long time since I've been happy about this war. However, having been in the group of Americans who cheered our entry, I owe it to our country, our troops, and Iraqis to push for the best possible resolution, the safety of our troops, and the independence of the Iraqi people.

What is the best possible resolution? Sadly, I don't know. I don't think it's a unilateral pull-out, leaving a vacuum of power and hostile, emboldened insurgents free to impose their will through violence and terror. I don't think its allowing under-equipped, under-manned forces to twist as we try to figure out what to do. Beyond these thoughts, I'm not sure what to think.

I think that we went in too quickly. Hindsight is 20/20, of course. But it's clear that our leaders didn't have an adequate plan for the weeks, months, and years after the battle charge.

Had such a plan been laid out, I have to think that our "Coalition of the Many" would be stronger and more cohesive, and our standing on the world stage would be more solid than it is now.

The political capital we're spending in Iraq, I believe, will not be understood until it is lacking in some future, greater context. We will pay for not laying a complete foundation and bringing others along. We'll wish we'd taken more time, made more complete plans, and worked to include others.

Now we live in a country set apart from the rest of the world. We listen to a president repeat the same jokes, the same catchphrases, and the same stump speeches he was spinning two years ago. We have a president who can't acknowledge fault and who therefore appears disingenuous. We have a country that feels like its leaders aren't listening. We have a bunch of people arguing among themselves because there's no leadership giving us a unified direction. At least, one that makes sense.

I'm glad 2008 offers a new choice on my side of the aisle. I hope that my party will actually consider who they put up there. I want a leader with a moral mandate, a social conscious, an idea of our country in the world context, a true compassion for the poor and a desire to address the issues of poverty here and abroad (I applaud the US/UK-led effort to cancel third-world debt), and an eloquent voice that speaks honestly and frankly with our people. I wish those people existed in government. Unfortunately, our system seems to nurture and cultivate salesmen with no true goals but the placating of their stockholders, and with no clear direction but whatever makes the arrow on the polls go up.

I'm one of many voices that, though perhaps confused, is clear that we don't like where we are, where we're headed, or who's taking us there. I hope and pray that there's some rational force driving us to a peak and not a valley. I know I don't understand much, but I know just enough to have a funny sinking feeling in my tummy, and I don't think it was caused by the Fred Meyer's sushi I had for lunch.

I'm done rambling. Don't know if I made any clear points. Regardless, your input is welcome...

Catch ya later.

The stupid stuff that sets me off

Is it just me, or is this just plain dumb?

I don't get it

I see this every time I drove to the Fred Meyer's at 39th and Hawthorne, which has been my closest Fred Meyer's for a couple of years now, and thus demands much attention (I hate the produce at Safeway--always goes bad as soon as you get it home).

In case you couldn't tell, I took this picture of a sign belonging to an establishment widely known as "Jiffy Lube." You may have been there. I often go there myself. Not too often, just often enough.

Anyway, I noticed, as perhaps you did, that "CRAZEE" is spelled wrong. I couldn't help but wonder why.

Now, if the store were called "JiffEE Lube", it might make sense. Even "Jiffy LOOb" might explain it. Some doubling of vowels somewhere. But, no, that's not the case.

So why mis-spell "crazy," instead bastardizing it with the double-E treatment?

Ugh. I'm concerned for our future.

I'm even more concerned that something this dumb incenses me enough to inspire a post...

I know, I know

No recent posts can make people crabby. My bad.

What've I been up to? Mostly hanging out with my wife and my dog.

Ollie, my doberman, is now about 9 months old. Once upon a time, she looked like this:



Sadly, that's not the case anymore. I've tried getting her to sit snugly in my lap like she once did, but now she's a bit too big. Exhibit 1:



Anywho, this week, with fine weather and all, has provided several opportunities for me and my puppy to hang out.

The other day, we went to the nearby dog park. Ollie doesn't get off the leash much, as of yet, because I'm still getting her to the point where I can trust her to behave. However, no other dogs were around while we were walking around the park, so I cut her loose.



That was fun. She ran around free, and I sat on the ground. Eventually, she pooped herself out with the running, and she came over and flopped on the ground next to me. I was actually pretty proud of her.

Of course, behaving at an empty dog park is one thing. A few days ago, JLowe and his wife invited us over to barbecue some food up with them. Of course, we agreed. However, I decided to see if I could push the limits. JLowe is currently dog-sitting for his sister, so he's in possession of four glorious pugs right now. Ollie's practiced with as many as two dogs at a time; now, it was time to try her out with four.

JLowe, undaunted by courageous thoughts, essentially told me to bring it on. So, Ollie came over.

Unfortunately, with the blur of dogs running around chasing eachother, I don't have any pictures of the five of them to show you. The closest I have is JLowe petting Ollie as he chatted on his cell phone (I swear this isn't what it looks like...)



Last night (er, the 2nd, since it's now still night, but also morning...whatever), The Missus and I had the Schnack clan over. They have a new puppy, Hoss, who's a lab of some sort. Still really young, but boy, is he getting big. Anyway, we had them come over, and they brought Hoss. Thanks to the fun they had, not only did Ollie hang out in the back yard for 4 hours, locked out of the house, without a single complaint, but she was so tuckered out when he left that she flopped over and fell soundly asleep for the whole evening.

Because of this, of course, we're thinking of getting a new dog. Here's the picture of the one we're looking at:



He's a rottweiler/doberman mix, currently four months old. The good thing about getting him is another dog will probably help Ollie mellow out, and at least will keep her company so that, hopefully, she isn't so needy. The bad thing is that, with a kid coming, a new dog may not be the best idea. Opinions, my trusted readers?

Anyway, this last picture is cute. As I got home from church this morning, I saw Ollie sitting in the window, on the back of the couch, a la Garfield. She unperched before I could take the picture, but I still got a shot of her looking longingly out the window. This is, honestly, my favorite part about getting home (on the days when I get home before my wife)...



For all of her lunacy, I absolutely love my dog.

Catch ya later.