Saturday, January 11, 2003
Stan and I were travelling and had to get a motel. I'm not exactly sure where we were, but I'm suspecting it was near Lincoln, NE. We found one motel, but the desk clerk, a woman with a semi-beehive hairdo who was around 50 (but she looked more than 9 years older than me) kept staring at me, watching me. It was like we were already in the motel room, but she still could see us from the desk. Weird. Then there were other people coming into our room. The room was filled with single beds, and I'm not sure exactly where Stan staked out his bed to be, but I realized I would probably not get to sleep next to him. There were all these other women coming into our room...I didn't like the thought of sharing it. Then I realized one of the women was someone I used to know from a job I had in Fort Collins, Blair. I said hi to her and asked her what she was doing out here (in Lincoln, NE, I assume), 9 hours from Fort Collins. She said she was on her way on a trip out west. I asked her what she meant by west, whether she meant west coast or Colorado. I forgot what she said.
Posted by Ann on 01/11/03@12:26 PM CST ..::Link::..
Tuesday, January 7, 2003
Let me just preface this by saying I love both my two dogs.
Stan and I were discussing this last night. Tim's favorite dog of ours is Hieronymus. He's just crazy about that pug. My mom loves Hieronymus too, and even my dad, 'The Man Who Hates Dogs,' likes Hieronymus. People who come to visit us love Hieronymus. Plato is another story. He's more aggressive toward strangers, so we don't let him near someone unless they know him or have been in the same room with him for about an hour. Plato is perceived by 'outsiders' (i.e., anyone except Stan and I) as 'The Bad Boy.' Maybe it's just because he's smarter and can outwit humans? Hieronymus is perceived as 'The Good Dog,' a roly poly sweet little ball of pug. Hieronymus can do no wrong. Plato is perceived as mischievous and temperamental, high strung and vicious. My dad hates Plato with a passion. The thing that these 'outsiders' do not see is how incredibly sweet Plato is. There is never a better dog to snuggle with when feeling depressed. He will love you to death and let you hold him forever (or until the doorbell rings). They don't see the nasty side of Hieronymus, aka 'Pug.' They don't have to deal with Pug's unrelenting desire to start licking Plato in the nasty places when Plato is just sitting on the futon with me, sleeping or minding his own business. Hieronymus is 90% of the time the instigator in what we have called their 'weiner games.' They don't see how snarly and bitey Pug is at the vets, or even when we try to clip his nails. While Stan can hold Plato in a relaxed position while I clip his nails, we literally have to strap Pug down with a towel over his head while his little head is spinning and growling inside of it. Back when Pug was young, we put him on our bed one morning and he shat on it. We were scared to do the same with Plato, but when I took Plato to bed one night when he was still a puppy, he just slept. He knew a bed was to sleep on, not to shit on. And when they both had a case of diarrhea this past fall, Plato would tell me when he had to go out. Pug would just shit wherever he pleased.
If everyone could see it from my and Stan's perspective, they might be willing to change their mind about who's 'The Good Dog.'
Posted by Ann on 01/07/03@11:44 AM CST ..::Link::..
DREAM - Boots and Dogs
I was with Stan and we were walking around in a department store like JC Penney's or something similar. We found the shoe section, and I spotted some turquoise miniboots. I say, 'I've always wanted boots like these!' Some looked like they were faux snakeskin print. Stan sits down in a chair, sort of away from where I'm standing. It's rather crowded, and a young women sits down near me. I wonder why Stan doesn't want to sit near me, so I say, 'Stan?' to get his attention. He ignores me. I realize he's ignoring me, like he's mad at me for some reason, so I madly scream 'STAN!' outloudly and wake him up out of a sound sleep, freaked out.
Stan and I were coming 'home' to our place of residence, which was not our house but some rented studio apartment with minimal furniture, very nice hardwood floors and not much else. I don't know what we were talking about, but I was saying that it's better to pay money to rent someplace nice rather than to let someone give you a place to stay for free because they'll always want something from you in return. I think Lamya was in our place and she was saying that they wanted to get a dog, and she think she wanted to get a wolfhound. I told her that they only lived like 7 years, and that was just too short a time to get so attached to a dog so large. There was a deck outside, and our dogs were outside on it. They heard someone coming and they started to act very submissive, rolling on the ground with their bellies in the air (which is NOT how our dogs act). I looked outside and saw it was some women who were caring for the dogs...then I realized they were at a kennel, and so was I, essentially, probably in the deluxe cage.
Posted by Ann on 01/07/03@09:38 AM CST ..::Link::..
Sunday, January 5, 2003
Thanks for telling me, Stan, that the link was broken. Evidentally the online magazine took the link down because he's not listed on the index in their front page either. Who knows why. Anyway, because my "Mail" program is sometimes fortunately retarded and doesn't always delete email older than a day (like it's supposed to), I was able to rescue it from my nervenet mailing list that I had tossed a few days earlier. Without further ado: [more]