May 28th, 2005

good mris pic

Productive morning

The last pan of lussekatter is in the oven, entirely out of season but filling the house with the smell of saffron. I hope puppies like saffron: kneading that much into dough is going to leave my hands slightly fragrant even after I shower and put on lotion and eat lunch and all of those useful things.

Mine aren't quite like the one in the picture. For one thing, they're not as pretty, rather more amorphous and sluglike. (I rolled them into the s-shapes, but they seem to have baked into figure-8-ish-blobs, with the lines of the s unclear.) For another, half of them have dried blueberries instead of raisins. This does not seem to me to be an obviously bad idea, but we'll see.

I also discovered that I can clean the downstairs bathroom in five minutes flat (it lacks a tub or shower), not counting the mopping, which is a separate chore to my way of thinking. This is useful information to have.

And I finished reading Desolation Island while working out, so I'll pick up something else, but I don't know what yet. Not the next O'Brian, as I don't have it on hand, and anyway I think it's probably better for me not to sink my brain too far into that world. Hmm. This is one of those times when I have too many good options rather than too few. We'll see.
formal

Pup-date

I want to say up-front: I'm posting this because many of you have clamored for information about our puppy search. I am not looking for advice on how to handle this situation; offering me advice, especially if you don't know much about our home, family, past pets, etc., is unlikely to go over very well. So if you're absolutely certain you know what we should do, great: you can be smug if it goes that way and shake your head and sigh to yourself if it does not.

So we went down to meet these puppies. When I'd talked to the breeder, she'd indicated that, of a litter of five, three were still available: two males and a female. We want a female, so we were going to keep an eye on this one. Well, when we arrived, one pup came trotting out of the kennel with a "something new to explore? let me at it!" air about her, and I thought, ohhhhh, I hope that's our girl. And in fact it was, and she was the little explorer, the daring one, the one who managed to untie the breeder's shoelaces and make the rocking chair rock by patting it with her little paw.

None of these pups was the kind you sometimes see from breeders who don't pay enough attention to intelligence or temperament: they were not incurious or afraid of their own shadows. When they approached the big new human people, they were clearly looking for an adventure rather than a protector. This seemed good to me. But the little brown one was the best.

We met the puppies' grown relations (mother, father, great-grandmother, aunt, cousin, half-sibling, and "no-good uncle," as markgritter describes him), and we played with them, and it was very clear which dog was the right dog for me.

But when I mentioned it, the breeder said she wasn't sure if she was keeping that one or one of the other females she'd said was available. And she was sure we could enjoy either dog. Well...the other little pup was a very nice puppy, but the world is full of very nice puppies. So we're waiting to find out what the breeder decides. If she's willing to let us have the little brown girl (and no, there was no ring), our choice will be extremely obvious. If she wants to keep her and offers us the silver, we'll have to think about how much it's worth to wait for another "exactly right" puppy or to bring a very nice, bright-eyed, good-tempered puppy into our home right now. I kind of thought we'd know today, whether we could expect a puppy in mid-July or not. But now I'm not sure. We'll have to see what happens and what we think of it with a little more time to think of it.

There will be pictures, but they're likely to go over in novel_gazing tomorrow or Monday.
tiredy

Week of May 22-28

I almost forgot to do this: one rejection this week. There, aren't you relieved?

Cub Foods currently has my animosity, because there were more wholly bad and disgusting strawberries in the four boxes I bought than I've ever had before. Ever. And the brown oozy strawberries (yes, they were oozy) were all in the middle. So the berry crisp used up all four boxes instead of the planned two, plus both pints of blackberries (as opposed to the expected zero blackberries), and it's a good thing I was planning on going to Byerly's tomorrow for a few last things anyway, because we're entirely out of blackberries and strawberries.

Tonight was going to be quiet but birthdayish for markgritter; we missed a party we'd have otherwise liked to attend in order to have quiet birthdaying. That didn't really happen: he put together another bookshelf for in the living room and hauled the old defunct CD racks downstairs and planted flowers, while I dusted and scrubbed and made the best crisp I could under the circumstances. Ah well. He'll be birthdayed again tomorrow.

For some reason, the bit in "The Producers" (you've all seen "The Producers," right?) where Franz Liebkind says, "You are ze audience. I am ze auzzor. I outrrrank you!" keeps popping into my head. I love that bit because it's so tempting for auzzors* writers to take that approach, and so wrong, and Mel Brooks is good enough at what he does to make me believe he understood both parts of that. But it makes me wonder what my subconscious is trying to correct.

It also occurred to me that amidst the larger batshit insanity in Orson Scott Card's latest...umm...thing, I was missing something small but alarming to marvel at: apparently conservatives like Adam Sandler movies and liberals don't? Really? Now, is it drinking your gin and tonica or smoking your marijuanica that's a heart-warming family value? What part of public urination with small children is considered patriotic? I begin to suspect that Card had smoked his marijuanica before writing that bit. Adam Sandler movies. My land. I feel like I really have to stick up for my staunch Republican family members to any liberals reading this (and I suspect there may be a few, somehow): argue with them all you like about social security or international policy or the environment, but do not blame them for Adam Sandler.

*I told you about the first box of author copies of my textbooks that arrived, right? The label on the box said, "arthur copies." And I went, "Arthur...oh, wait, I'm the arthur!"