We Have Company.

Meet Donner, one of the nicest young dogs you will ever have the pleasure to encounter.

Donner is Ralph and Trixie’s houseguest for the next few days.

Of course, being seasoned Saint Bernards, Ralph and Trixie were expecting a big slumber party. Being an active dog in the prime of his life, Donner was expecting more on the line of sex, drugs and rock and roll.

Donner is coping.

Perhaps I Spoke Too Quickly.

I didn't mean to insinuate that Max and Spike have brains of papier-mâché. I really didn’t!

Now Max, please don’t hurt me. (At least don’t scar my elbows!)

May Day! May Day!

I read today that scientists are racing to construct a cat-level brain.

I looked over at Max and Spike: do you think the scientists are using papier-mâché?

Notes From a Busy Weekend, Part Two.

Saturday was filled with a baby shower. I know, you’re thinking to yourself, “Why, in the name of all that is holy, would Mac be invited to a baby shower?” I thought the same thing. But Alix and Jarren are friends: people I am proud to call friends. And they are having a baby. And I was invited, so of course, I went.

Oh, and this was my kind of party. Noon to 3, with a barbecue following. I didn’t have to stay up to some ungodly hour, like 10PM. And there was a full bar.

And the Huntington’s and the Seal’s were incredibly welcoming and friendly.

Sigh!

Notes From a Busy Weekend - Part One!

On Friday night, Richard and I went to see a performance by the Columbia Gorge Sinfonietta. In the 23 years I’ve lived in Hood River, this was only the second time I had gone to one of their concerts. The first time was a good twenty years ago, and they were called the Mid-Columbia Sinfonietta. I was surprised by how good they were. I was struck by remembrances from my school year’s band classes. A couple of time I thought, “That could be me up there!”

Then I remembered my utter and absolute lack of musical talent.

Sigh!

Happy Earth Day

It Ain’t Easy Having Sexy Elbows.

While on my recent vacation to the Old South, it was pointed out to me, by one of my beloved sisters, that my elbows were an abomination. My elbows were totally gross. My elbows could kill a bull elephant at 20 paces. I won’t mention the sister by her given name, so let’s just call her the Elbow Policeperson. (It’s a code name: no one will figure out who she is.)

Well, the Elbow Policeperson spent the entire time we were in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida and Georgia rubbing lotion on my elbows. She made it her personal goal to make sure my elbows were ‘pretty’ before I returned to Oregon. She made me promise that I would continue to pour gallons of lotion on my elbows daily and get one of those pumice stone when I returned home.

Afraid to offend the Elbow Policeperson, (she would drop everything, fly out to Hood River and beat the crap out of me it she thought I wasn’t following her directive), I did as she requested. (Does it damage my Macho-Index if the pumice stone I bought was called ‘Ms Softskin’?) I have followed a demanding regimen of lotion and pumice; softening my elbows and then ripping the poor unsuspecting skin off the bend in my arm. And the Elbow Policeperson was right. They are frickin’ beautiful now.

I walk down the street, and total strangers stop me and ask to cuddle with my elbows. I am barely able to fend off the appreciative throng. It is becoming a nuisance.

I took pictures of my elbows and was going to post them with this entry. But then I realized that would make my blog one of those age-restricted websites. When you tried to read my fascinating ruminations, you would first have to agree to one of those annoying precursors:

“You are about to enter a site with adult content. If you are not of the legal age in the jurisdiction from which you are entering the World Wide Web, please hit the “RETURN” button. If you are an old depraved fart and want to continue on to this offensive website, feel free to hit the “I AM A PERVERT” button.”

It's a bitch being an elbow god!