About Location: Vermont, USA Navigation current Enjoying: In the Flesh: The Cultural Politics of Body Modification by Victoria Pitts: fairly self-explanatory, really"Since I spend my working days studying trends, many of which are downright disgusting, I feel it's my duty after work to encourage the trends I'd like to see catch on, like signaling before you change lanes, and chocolate cheesecake." --Connie Willis, Bellwether Archive
No one likes a girl who won't sober up
Why am I able to waste my energy to notice life being so beautiful?
He doesn't see the danger dawning
What in the world ever became of Sweet Jane?
Sister, it seems to me you're going to be fine Credits template concept & |
December 24, 2006Dogs love me 'cause I'm crazy sniffableAs an addendum to my last entry, I have to state that I bouldered at PetraCliffs Friday night, and not only was I the thankful recipient of some awesome beta, but a welcome, probably needed spot from complete strangers. Who were really nice.In a not-at-all coincidence considering Petra's fairly small, I got a chance to watch said strangers tackle El Dinero after I finished bouldering. One of them couldn't make the first two clips and gave it all up, and the other took a hella big fall trying to make the last two clips (#s 7 and 8 if you're keeping score). Seriously. Like 20 feet, easy. He'd taken all his slack (extra rope) to make the last clips, and his belayer was in the middle of the cave, rather than over in the doorway. In case you're wondering, the bombproof Jeanne and Lisa both belay in the doorway. Also, I done wore out my houseguest Saturday with two long walks in the fresh air and lots of chatter. Luka's mom dropped him off at 8am and we've been hanging out ever since. He watched me knit, checked out the landscaping in the backyard, tested the couch, armchair and foof for softness (foof wins!) and apparently howled when I stashed him in his crate so I could race to the store. The three eldest buns are taking this all in stride (read: sulking), but Scratch wasn't expecting a bull mastiff to come bounding down the stairs at him, and I think he had his very own come-to-Jesus moment there. Nuts. We're back to rabbits, aren't we? Fine. Let's just give in and go with it. Tung-Tung, the house alpha rabbit and general badass, is actually agitating to be let out of the office to come investigate the 130-lb phenomenon. This is a surprise to no one. We've long understood Tung-Tung's outlook is pretty much I have no teeth, and I have no balls. What's up. While generally it serves him well, I think I'll go ahead and intervene here, keeping the baby gate firmly in place with Luka on one side and bunnies on the other. As his mom perkily pointed out, every inch of bull mastiff jaw can generate 2000 pounds of pressure. I have no idea if she was shitting me or not, but I'm not about to ask Tung-Tung to don a crash helmet and find out. For starters, I'm not sure where I could get one custom-fitted this time of night. I think probably the most awesome thing about having a canine houseguest is the sighing. I love dog sighs. They're one of the most expressive forms of communication in the universe. In this case, Luka does most of his sighing when he settles down for a nap. And why shouldn't he? Luka's job is to be a dog, and he takes that job very seriously. This means that whenever I pop up to switch books or check on the rabbits or get the laptop, Luka has to pop up and accompany me on my errand, making sure that whatever evildoers are lurking in the house are soundly thwarted. When I finally sit myself down, Luka waits a minute before climbing up on the foof, looking out the window one last time (perimeter status = clean) and then collapsing with a big sigh into a napping ball of mastiff. Woman, his sigh says, looking after you is exhausting. Try not to be evildone for the next 20 minutes so I can get some shuteye. Then there's the mid-nap sigh: In another five minutes she's going to get up and start running around again, I just know it. Gawd. This is generally accompanied by a lift of the head and a baleful stare at me, as if it's my twitchy, unsettled energy that's preventing Luka from passing all the way out. And then there are the multiple sighs, which occur when he's curled up on the foof, all kinds of comfortable, but unable to shut his eyes, knowing that when he does, I'll be up and running around again. There had better be raw chicken for dinner, he thinks. Lots of raw chicken. Or maybe I just take him on too many walks. |
