I know I've used the Groucho Marx quote "Outside of a dog, books are man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read," before. It's just a brilliant quote. And then, it's also the inspiration for the title of a book I'm going to review.


Bethany got me this book for Christmas. At first I was like, "meh" because I don't tend to like nonfiction. But the subject matter is definitely relevant to my interests, so I gave it a shot.

Overall, this is DEFINITELY worth reading, especially (or perhaps, particularly) if you have a dog. Part of what made this feel less clinical was the fact that I could read something and be like, "Oh, (insertnamehere) does this!" I also like that Horowitz debunks the wolf-pack explanation that's been defacto since about the 60's or 70's. She uses fresh, recent and credible research (her own and others') to uncover why dogs do what they do and how we can understand them better.

The key word of the whole thing is "umwelt," which luckily I've dealt with before in lit (my major wasn't totally useless! I felt all excited because I UNDERSTOOD SCIENCE. This is a big deal to people like me. HOORAY, SELF!). But basically, Horowitz breaks down how dogs experience the world.

Most of it was stuff I knew--dogs are olfactory creatures, they are dependent on attention, etc.--but it was the depth to which she explained these things that was interesting. Like, how dogs can smell age. I had NO idea, but apparently this is fact and what makes them good trackers; they can smell decay, so they track the scent of decay.

Anyway, it's very clinical and definitely scientific (it reads like a long research paper). At least, in my mind it was super sciencey. To someone who does science all the time, it's probably simple. Despite its jargon and analytic tone, it's accessible. I mean, I got it. So you can, too. And anyone with a dog will appreciate the inside look at their best friends. So do I recommend it? Yes. To anyone with a dog. If you're dogless, not only am I deeply sorry, but you probably won't find the motivation to read this in its entirety.


Also, this:

I already kind of rec'd this in my last post, but this book was SO good. I couldn't put it down. I finished it within 24 hours, finishing it in the wee hours. It was amazing. The Bronte family is just fascinating. This is a fact-based, fictionalized account of how the publication of Jane Eyre affected the Bronte family--most particularly Charlotte but it does mention her father, Anne, Emily and Branwell at length, which is great. Diminutive Charlotte and nearly-mad Emily always tend to take the spotlight (plus their books are the most famous), but the insight into the other members of the Bronte family was really interesting.

Do you have to have read Jane Eyre? Not necessarily, but it CERTAINLY helps. The author tends to switch tenses and scenes a lot, so one minute Charlotte is nursing her ill father and the next Jane is in Lowood. So it helps to know the story (having read The Professor and Wuthering Heights would be helpful too). Anyway, anyone who likes Jane Eyre and the Bronte family should DEFINITELY read this book.



That's all. How boring am I becoming? I'm literally on countdown for school to start. CAN'T WAIT.


And that's sad.


Oh, here's this:

EVERYDAY I'M SHUFFLING.

Whew!

So, the Halloween thing was really fun, but if any of you have ever tried to post something for 31 days, you know it's a little exhausting. And harder than I thought it would be to come up with interesting content.

It'll be nice to just be able to blog about regular boring old Mary stuff again. But I really wanted to do that, mostly to prove to myself that I could actually start and finish something. It IS possible. Not probable, but possible.

Here's just a little update about what my life's looked like in the last month:

-They started work on our house! Finally! The flood only happened in August, and now we're finally getting some work underway. Demo was kind of disastrous. But that's the nature of DEMOLITION, I suppose. Anyway, when they were ripping out the tile and the cabinets the mold was unbelievable. And whoever laid the tile in the house before, for some WEIRD reason, put a whole layer of felt beneath the tile. So it got soaking wet in the flood, and it was pretty much, by the time they ripped it out, a layer of sopping mold underneath our floors. And the mold behind and under the cabinets was rampant and disgusting--climbing up the walls and stuff. That, coupled with the obvious dust of destroying tile and drywall and whatnot, have been HELL for my asthma. I sort of sound like I have a perpetual smoker's cough.

The guys we have working here are AWESOME. They've been working with us on housey stuff for years--since before we moved into this house. They're really dedicated and they've been busting their butts trying to get everything done in a correct and timely manner. So far: cabinets are mostly in, tile has been laid (but not grouted), and they're hoping to start painting tomorrow. When it's all done, I'll post before and after pics. It'll be super nice when it's all finished.


-I don't know how many people know this, but about 6 months ago I decided I was like 98% sure that I wanted to teach high school English--preferably 11th and 12th grade Brit lit and AP lit (ha ha, like we get a choice). I fought against the idea of being a teacher FOREVER because, as those of you who knew me in my high school days well remember, I was quite the anti-establishment, anti-school girl. Ooooooh the irony of it all. But anyway, for reasons I probably won't get into right now but I promise will come up again later, I really feel like this is where I'm being pulled right now. Which is totally cool with me.

So here's the weird part.

I'm in this education class that requires us to have 15 hours of service-learning, which means we have to go shadow and semi-participate in a classroom. Luckily, my AMAZING 9th and 10th grade English teacher heard about this and literally just offered to let me come and hang out in her classroom, coming and going as I pleased. I was super nervous, because just driving around my alma mater is enough to give me a near panic attack just because of how much I abhorred the place. However, it is going SURPRISINGLY well! I get to shadow a couple of 10th grade English classes (reliving the entire time, btw, certain assigments and projects and books that I had to work on when I took the class six years ago), and a couple of the AP language and lit classes. It has been AMAZING.

I've been struggling over "what to do when I grow up" since I was like 13. No lie. And I have been in just about every field that it is possible for me to work in (journalism, creative writing, accounting...the list goes on), and none of it really felt right. It always felt like the whole square peg in a round hole thing. And for some reason I can't quite explain, sitting in the classroom and viewing it from a TOTALLY different adult perspective...it just seems right. I really hope everything works out for it, because it's the ONLY profession I've considered yet that makes me excited. Everything else was like, "meh, if it pays the rent." Well, teaching will barely pay the rent but I've always been of the mentality that I'd rather be poor and happy than rich and otherwise. Ideally, I'd like to be rich AND happy, but how many people do you know who've managed to pull that off?


-Bixby is doing well. He's a good boy. His little personality is developing and I'm learning more and more how to deal with him (relationships with dogs are like relationships with people; it takes time to figure out how to respond to each one differently). I was so used to dealing with Sassy and all her little nuances, probably just because she'd always been a fixture since I was five. It's taken me longer to bond and figure out exactly what Bix is all about. But I love him to death. He's a LOT more easygoing than Sassy was. Sassy only liked you on her terms or when you had food. Bixby loves you all the time--no matter what. He's a lot more easygoing (I can dress him up, throw him in a bicycle basket, take him for car rides...Sassy didn't put up with any of that unless there was a copious amount of food involved) and smoochy than Sassy was. He loves to cuddle and kiss and be held, but he's not needy. I mean, he is, in that "I'm still a puppy/baby, look at me" way. But I think once he matures and mellows out, he'll be a great balance of cuddly and laid back. Plus, one gets used to having dogs following you around all the time. It's nice to have someone to do that again.

I am enjoying him very much.


-School is going well. I'm actually really enjoying this semester. It's just enough work that I'm kept quite busy, but not so much that I'm swamped. I really feel like I can put forth my best efforts in papers and such, which always makes me feel more accomplished. I've been reading a lot. Or re-reading. I read Wuthering Heights for the fifth or sixth time (can't remember, but WHO CARES, it's so good!), Jane Eyre for the fourth time, Hamlet for the third time. I think what makes great literature great is that it is timeless, throughout generations and lifetimes. I can read Jane Eyre three times and every time I read it, something else sticks out to me. Like, before, when I read I was really stricken by gender roles and how progressive, really, Bronte (through Jane) was when it came to feminism. This time around I was able to notice more of the idea of foreignness or "the other." It's just interesting to me. Which I guess is why I'm a lit major.

Expect some book/story/play reviews here sometime in the future. And if you're really good, I might even illustrate them for you. =)


-I just want you all to know that the upcoming holiday season will not be met with the same fervent enthusiasm as Halloween here in the Sea of Snark. I went into a store today, nearly vomitted to discover that 90% of the merchandise was Christmas-related, heard that god-awful, obnioux Mariah Carey "All I Want for Christmas Is You" song, and decided that today, November 2nd, I am officially done with it all.


-Someone, presumably at UCF, sideswept my car and ran off. Jackass. They dented and scraped the side pretty bad, so now I look like your stereotypical bad woman driver. I have no idea how much it'll cost to fix it. That coupled with all the body work from previous scrapes and boo-boo's ought to be a hefty little sum. JOY.


-This is the last point. I rescued a dog the other day. I was driving along Chapman and saw him just lying there on the side of the road. I turned around (illegally, I'm pretty sure) and drove back to him. I couldn't just keep driving. My heart was already broken for him. So I go back and park the car, taking my mace just in case its rabid or something, and go to see him. He was, what looked to me, like a boxer-pitt bull mix. He was SUPER thirsty and drooly, but not injured as far as I could tell. So I gave him some water (luckily I had a bucket in my trunk...I have NO IDEA WHY, but who cares. It was PERFECT!) and decided to try and take him home. It was late, and all the animal shelters were closed; I didn't want to just leave him on the side of the road where he'd almost certainly get hit by a car. On the other hand, I knew I couldn't do anything with him once I got home. Our garage is full (literally) with construction stuff, our back porch has massive holes in the screen, our yard isn't fenced, and I sure as hell wasn't bringing a strange dog into the house where he could potentially hurt the other dogs. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I probably wasn't. But I tried to get him into my car. The poor thing was EXHAUSTED. He could barely stand. I had to entice him with my dinner to come closer to me and the car and then I hoisted him (all like 100 lbs of him...oy.) inside. I got him home, let him out, and gave him some more water. I tried to get him to come close to me, but once he'd rested and had some water, he was pretty insistent on NOT coming anywhere near me. I tried to get a leash around his neck. Forget it. He bolted. And I mean, that dog could RUN. So I sat there in my driveway calling out to this dog (I kept alternating between calling him "Pup" and "Bob." My neighbors all kept looking at me funny), trying to get him not to run back up to the main road. I brought out some expired lunch meat we had in the fridge and gave it all to him. He ate it pretty voraciously. He was so scared of people, and his neck and torso were all scarred. I'm pretty sure he was abused pretty badly. Anyway, my parents got in late and were NOT too pleased with my new acquisition. We all decided that the best thing to do was to just let him roam free. If he was still there in the morning, we'd call animal control. Otherwise, he'd just be off and maybe someone with the property to contain him would keep him.

Oh, he was totally still there in the morning, patrolling our yard. All the neighbors freaked out and kept saying they were going to call Animal Control. I looked up the Humane Society and SPCA, but they don't accept stray dogs. So then it was like, "Okay. If someone is going to call Animal Control for this guy, it might as well be me." So we called and they came out, got him, and carted him off. The people confirmed my suspicions and said he was exhibiting classic abused dog behavior.

I have no idea what happened to him. I hope they were able to get him checked out by a vet and started into some rehabilition program for abused pitt bulls. There are a LOT of them in the area because pitt bulls are so often mistreated and misjudged. Hopefully someone came by and got him and, with a lot of work and training, he'll be adoptable. He was a cute little dog. Just so sad...

It's not exactly the way I wanted it to work out, but these acts of "heroicism" are never as easy in person as they are on paper. Rescuing stray dogs to no apparent avail; the promise not to abandon old friends and lovers even though it happens anyway; random acts of kindness that go unrewarded or worse, are met with aversion...it's no wonder people think that heroics and good deeds are dead.

For my part, I think I'll continue performing them in whatever small ways I can. After all, if everything was easy, life would be terribly boring. :)

Pug off.

I absolutely cannot help but post pics of pugs dressed up. They are the most hideous little breed of dog out there, and this fact is exacerbated when they're bedecked in costume.







I have no idea what this one is supposed to be, but LOOK AT ITS FACE. AWWW!!!

Credit for above pics.



From Gala Darling's coverage of the Tompkins Square Park Halloween Dog Parade. SO CUTE.



And finally, I recently discovered the "Buzzkill" meme. Funny stuff.

Hope you're having a good week!

ACCURATE.

That is all.

Pug life.

Still not sure what Mr. Bix is doing for his first Halloween! Although these are pretty darn cute.

I made a picture!

I feel like, if he could, Bixby would spend his entire life perched atop my head.


I also heard that George Lucas modelled the Ewoks after pugs.

While I don't see the resemblance, I do think that the Ewok Theme fits Bixby quite well. So does the Jawa theme.

If you know what I'm talking about, Hi. Welcome to having no life. *_~


In other news, I went to the doctor today and my foot isn't any worse. But it isn't any better. So I think I'm going to need to quit work. Being on my feet all the time does not allow for the bone to heal. In the x-rays (I SHOULD UPLOAD THOSE OMG), you can see that the bones are trying to heal but aren't getting ample opportunity to do so. This makes me angry. I didn't save up nearly as much as I'd hoped. Oh well. I suppose all things happen for a reason. Besides which, learning to say "no" for my own sake and learning how to be dependent and stop with my Superwoman Mentality are always things I need more practice with.

I dislike being so self-aware. Alas.



I'm trying to come up with a little mini-vacation plan before school starts which at this point entails me going down to Fort Myers with Bethany. I hope it works out! I also hope my foot gets better before school starts (the doctor said it will probably take about 12 weeks though...blah!), especially because this was the first year I was able to get into the much-desired ballroom dancing class. And dancing will be difficult with a broken foot. FIGURES.

I'm also dreading the holidays already. Don't ask me why--I just hate the Christmas season. I realize how Scroogey/Grinchy that sounds. I just get really depressed and feel like I'm being pulled in too many directions. I'm formulating multiple plans of escape for the month of December, probably none of which will work because of familial obligations. But still. One of them involves just spending the entire holiday season volunteering to bring it to other people who actually want it. I like this plan, since I think that kind of encapsulates what Christmas is supposed to be all about. Also since "crawl into a hole until February" is not healthy nor feasible.



Otherwise, things are the same here with me. When I'm not at work, I'm watching birds, the internet and reading. The same things I always do. And I'm happy to do them. :)

"Pugs are the pets of nobility, snobs, and old maids."

I guess I'm all of the above. *_~


I haven't written in a few days, in part due to hectic work schedules, but in other part due to some exciting news.

Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have the honor of introducing to you...Bixby.



Now, in my sordid fantasies, Bixby was a cream-colored female French bulldog. Well, Frenchies run anywhere from $1500 to $3000. I just don't have that money. And even if I did, I should probably be spending it on, y'know, an APARTMENT and not puppies.

Enter a breeder my mom located who was selling pug pups for EXTREMELY affordable prices. Now, it's always been Michael who wanted a pug. He and my mom have been looking at pug puppies for a couple of weeks now, and I was just "meh" about it. Even though it's been almost a year since I lost Sassy, that wound STILL hurts and I wasn't quite ready to get a new puppy.

The thing is, Bix was ready for me.

Everything lined up really quickly and smoothly and it felt like one of those things where the stars just aligned at the right time and everything fell together perfectly. My mom went and saw Bix's litter, and right away, out of the five puppies there, he walked right up, made eye contact, and sat IN HER PURSE. He's like, "Yeah, I'm ready to go home with you now." She didn't bring him home that night, but she did come home and ask if I wanted to go see him. I said no.

I know, right?

I just...I didn't feel ready. I felt like there would be too many comparisons to Sassy and he wasn't, after all, female, blonde, or French (now I sound like a frat douche, lol). I really had my heart set on another female. Stupidly. My mom gave me 15 minutes to decide, because she had told the breeder she'd be by Tuesday morning to pick him up. She's like, "You can either say yes and we'll go or say no and I'll call and tell them to sell him." So I thought.

And I figured, you know what. I've been secretly wishing for a new puppy since Christmas. Even if he IS a boy, here's the deal. That differentiates him enough from Sassy to the point where I wouldn't CONSTANTLY be comparing the two of them. That's not fair to him, and it's not fair to me either, because as much as I want her back, it's never gonna happen. I can search the world twice over and I would never get another dog with Sassy's exact personality. And then I decided...that's okay. I loved Sassy, and all her snotty little moments, but I was (and am) ready to move forward and establish a new relationship with someone else. I will still miss her. I probably always will. And if provoked, I could cry for her at any minute. But it won't do any good to cry, because she's not coming back. I had sixteen really good years with her, and if I could repeat the experience, I would.

And if I could have a NEW experience, I decided I was ready.

So I said yes.

And the minute we walked in, Bix looked up at me with these eyes that look JUST like Sassy's, and I held him and he kissed me and it was love at first sight. And it FELT right.

A very wise and dear friend of mine told me something when Sassy died that I haven't forgotten, and means SO much to me in light of recent events. He told me that Sassy loved me, even in her little moods, and I took really good care of her throughout her whole life, wheelchair included. And he said that if she had the chance, she'd do it all over again with me. And if she knew some other dog had the same chance, she'd want him to take it.

And I believe that.

So here's to Bixby, the Wonder Pug, who will hopefully share many happy years with me.




"So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!"
-Dr. Suess

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.

Oh man, yesterday was one of those days where I feel like everything happened and then I wonder why it can't all be spread out over a number of days. Alas, it seems that eventfulness likes to happen all at once instead of evenly. Kind of like when you hit the 57 on the ketchup bottle in desperation only to receive a veritable deluge of ketchup.

ANYWAY.

First of all I had an interview at a mall store that shall remain unnamed.

See what I did there?

It's so silly. They take their job SO SERIOUSLY and, I kid you not, described the store as "the leading emporium in the lingerie and brasierre industry." I was struggling to keep it together. One moment, please: BRASIERRE??? Nobody under the age of 150 SAYS that. It's a BRA. We all call them bras. Also, I didn't realize applying for the job would mean that my ultimate goal was not to make money, but rather to become, exact words, a "bra expert." There are many things I wouldn't mind becoming an expert on. Women's underthings are not one of them.

If I was a sixteen year old guy, perhaps my thoughts would be different.

Then someone got arrested in my front yard. It was highly exciting. My mom and I sneakily watched the whole thing for about an hour and a half through half-shut blinds. Apparently, this kid came in on a bicycle with the intent to burglarize cars and houses. The police apprehended his backpack, which was full of tools to do so (a crowbar, screwdrivers, wire cutters, etc.), and he tried to convince the police that the tools were so he could fix his bike. Liar. So they arrested him. Apparently there's been a rash of young guys breaking in and stealing stuff in this area. Naturally, this pumped my already high level of paranoia into the realm of ridiculousness. ALAS: BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. Even though sleeping with mace in my bed is probably not safe for me. DOES NOT MATTER. The weird thing is that the police were on their hands and knees in our lawn searching for something. Regrettably, we never found out what they were looking for. At first we theorized that he was in a drug ring and had thrown his stash in our yard (my mom: "We can't let the dogs out! What if they eat pot? OR COCAINE???" Millie always acts high, it's no big deal.). We never figured it out, so I'm very curious.


Also, there were two detectives on the scene. I'd just like to point out that detectives in real life look NOTHING like Sherlock Holmes. Unless Watson was lying and Holmes was actually morbidly obese with a penchant for pleated-front khakis. I doubt this very highly.


Detectives in real life DO NOT EQUAL Sherlock BAMF Holmes, who's knocking over a table and then will blame Watson for it. No lie. That's CANON (The Adventure of the Reigate Squire. One of my favs because there's a bitchy little man who hates Holmes and Holmes is all like, BITCH PLZ, and fakes sick and blames Watson for knocking stuff over. READ IT.).



And then, finally, I came *this* close to my #1 fantasy being played out. After all the excitement, my mom and I took the dogs for a walk (having realized that there probably WEREN'T random hazardous drugs laying around in our grass...). As we're walking, we spot, up by the entrace of the neighborhood, a little dog dashing across the road and going into random people's yards. It was tiny, and it was getting progressively close to Chapman Road, so I ran up to go intercept it before it got smished in traffic. So I'm running (like a retard, btw) and it disappears into someone's backyard. I start whistling and calling for it and it peeps its little head around the corner. I carefully approach it the way you're supposed to approach an unfamiliar dog (not meeting its eyes directly, hand outstretched, palm upwards, speaking softly, etc.) and its little eyes lit up. I could see it was a female Shih Tzu, probably like 3-4 years old, freshly groomed. Once I realized she was freshly groomed, I knew my little fantasy was over. People don't just LOSE $2000 purebred dogs who've been groomed meticulously in the last week. They just don't. So she sees me and approaches all happy and starts kissing my hand. SUCH a sweetie. I get into position to pick her up, scanning her for any injuries (she was collar-less, so I wanted to make sure she wasn't some very fortunate stray), and she totally let me. So then I figured she was definitely tame, and definitely belonged to people. She was SO happy to see me though! It was adorable. And the whole time I'm holding her, she's giving me little kisses. I almost DIED of cuteness. So my Mom and I start knocking door to door to figure out who she belonged to. Turns out it's some neighbor up at the front of the 'hood that I never talk to. He was all like, "AWW! THANK YOU! I didn't even know she was out!" He was really happy and really relieved. So even though my sick little fantasy didn't play out, I was happy. Because he was happy.


It kind of looked like this. Cute, y/y??

Now I figure I've committed my good deed involving a dog. The laws of Karma indicate that something similar must now occur to me in reciprocation.

I'M WAITING, KARMA.

HOLD THE PHONE.

STOP.

STOP EVERYTHING. OBSERVE:



Robert Downey Jr. and Bixby in the same picture and that funny guy from The Hangover but that's not relevant right now.

Robert. Downey. Jr. AND BIXBY. In the SAME. Picture.


My life might just be complete now.



You may resume your scheduled programming. Carry on.

Lazy.

No, I don't wear stuff like that to bed, either.
But I did stay in all day today. I kind of got dressed. Sort of. No makeup. Didn't get in my car.

It was highly boring.

I hate days like this except for when I'm sick. Today, the carpets were cleaned and my Mom had to get her flat tire fixed, so I stayed here while the guy did the carpets. What a pain in the ass, by the way. Having to move all your furniture so the carpets can be cleaned. NOT COOL.

Anyway.

Also, resolving debt and starting a diet during the same week? I don't recommend it.

I've filed 6 job applications. I've pretty much said on there that yes, I have loads of retail experience and I'm willing to work forever during the summer, but once school starts I'll probably screw them over. Either I'll get hired by someone or I won't. I hope I do, just because if I don't have to work I fear there will be many more jammy-clad do-nothing days in my future.

That isn't HEALTHY.

Luckily I'm going out with Bethany tomorrow. I pretty much can't wait.

I promise I'm not actually feeling as mopey as this post sounds.

Also, I'm in love.



I'm setting up a Paypal account so that friends can donate money to my Buy Bixby Fund when they're feeling generous for Christmas and my birthday. Yes. I would like a cream-colored French Bulldog (female) who I will name Bixby and call "Bix," like the awesome dinosaur in Dinotopia.

WHATEVER, DINOTOPIA WAS AN AWESOME BOOK AND SO WHAT IF BIX CAN WRITE AND USE A TELESCOPE.

Oh!
I've just remembered why I started writing in the first place!
BOOK REVIEW

An excellent and most perceptive friend of mine gave me this book for Christmas. I started to read it and then school took over my life and I was too busy reading nonsense like Caleb Williams to finish. I picked it up (and finished!) it yesterday.

If you are intrigued by the character of Irene Adler ("A Scandal in Bohemia" and cause of the famous quote/opening line, "To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the Woman."), then this Holmes pastiche would be RIGHT up your alley. I loved Douglas's descriptions and characterisation Irene. She felt really spot-on, like if Doyle (Doily) had taken more time and interest in, y'know, WOMEN, then he probably would've written her this way. Douglas's Adler is vibrant, flamboyant, fearless and painfully clever. She plays upon the opera singer aspect (which is ACD's fault), and Irene's bohemian lifestyle. She just seems like a really cool chick.

Not so cool is Good Night, Mr. Holmes's narrator, Penelope Huxleigh, who I feel is a contrived female version of Watson. She even has a moustache. I'm so kidding. But she is very much the Watson to Irene's Holmes, and I guess I just found it bothersome. Thankfully, she's original enough that I didn't get a Mary-Sue feeling from her (THANK GOD), but she was a terribly uninteresting narrator, which is problematic since you're seeing the story unfold from HER perspective.

Also. If you want more Holmes and Watson, don't bother. I think they're in an impressive four or five chapters total (out of 35 + epilogue).

What's neat about this story is it's a grand and elaborate set up for the "Scandal in Bohemia" case. That one is one of my favorites (mostly, admittedly, because of The Woman), so it was really neat the way Douglas creates a whole story line (or two or three or five) to reach that penultimate moment when Adler, in disguise and following Holmes, yells goodnight to him. That was quite clever.

OH ALSO. She mentions Bram Stoker and Oscar Wilde is kind of a major character.<3333
The way she describes him is PERFECT. Observe!
"You pour [tea] with the rhythm of a villanelle," said a deep, musical voice at my elbow. My elbow! I looked down to find a large young man half-reclining on the carpet, gazing up at me like a spaniel through wings of long brown hair.
"I beg your pardon?" said I.
"And well you should for wasting the poetry of your pouring on this callow mob. You should pour only for a chosen, appreciative few."
"Indeed." As a parson's daughter I had found that word an adequate response to almost any situation.
"Quite right to keep your own counsel, prim nymph of the afternoon libation, as utterly, utterly cool as a marble chessboard, mute as a concealed pain."
"Would you like a cup of tea, is that it?"
Long pale hands fanned into ten eloquently separate fingers--an overblown flower losing its petals. Everything about my admirer drooped--his shoulder-length hair, his soft velvet tie, the green carnation in his lapel and most of all, his expression.
"I seek ambrosia," he whispered.
"I a very sorry. I'm not serving any of that. Perhaps the punch table--"
"Cruel spite of ancient rites. I withdraw, but my admiration remains."
With that, the odd young an rose--which took some time as he, like Redbeard, towered over six feet when standing--and ebbed into the murmuring clusters.

DROOPY! And mad props for the green carnation reference.

So, overall. Interesting? Yes. Do you need to be a Holmes fanatic to get it? Decidedly not. A story about Sherlock Holmes? Not in the least.

Overall, I'd give it like, 4 stars. Five perhaps, except that I was deluded into thinking it was a Sherlock Holmes story. It's not. Apart from that though, it's still a really quick-paced and interesting read.

Yay! Now I feel like I accomplished something! Jammies and all! Thank you, blogging, for giving me a false sense of purpose.

Millie vs. The Squirrel

Okay, so I'm an armchair ornithologist (among other things). I adore birds and bird feeding. So I have a window feeder that I've had up for about seven months and only JUST recently had birds starting coming to it. It's migration/mating season, so bird traffic is pretty heavy.

Well, this morning, I had a very humorous series of events take place that I managed to get on camera and wanted to share with you.


Exhibit A: the now crooked window feeder


Exhibit B: The Squirrel who discovered my feeder was a magical wellspring of seeds and deliciousness (the way he's holding his paw worries me...I hope he didn't injure it. He might just be holding some seed or something).


Exhibit C: Michael's usually completely useless dog, Millie. Millie is something of a space cadet. She whimpers at the sight of anything coming towards her, gets scared of her toys and blankets, and will literally spend 20-30 minutes at a time staring off into space. She also counts out all her pieces of food before she eats them. I wish I was making this stuff up, but I'm not quite that creative.

So The Squirrel notices the bird feeder is full of seeds and wow, there's a window sill right there for him to sit on. Millie happened to notice and went BANANAS over the fact that there is a bushy-tailed rodent sitting on HER window (and by her, I mean mine).

He comes sneaking up, and she's LIVID, whining and crying and scratching the glass.





Of course, he wasn't deterred by her at all. Isn't he cute?!?





This is pretty much what she's been doing for the rest of the day. Silly Millie.

Anyway, just thought I'd share. :)

You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear.

Some of you have been asking how Sherman is doing.







He's doing really well! Getting bigger, which is really good. I still think he's only about 2 months old, which is about the age when they SHOULD be taken from their mothers and sold in pet shops. But I've taught him how to drink from a bottle and eat fruit and play with his various toys ("toys" here meaning "empty paper towel rolls"). So he's doing well! Once he's fully grown, I'll take some more pics, although I doubt he'll ever be a MASSIVE guinea pig (which, as was so eloquently pointed out to me by a friend, are neither pigs nor are they from Guinea).



RANDOM USELESS TRIVIA QUESTION!

You win absolutely nothing if you get it right, except for the knowledge that you are STELLAR.

My home has a flight of seventeen steps just like what other fictional residence?
a) Pemberly (Pride and Prejudice)
b) 221 b Baker Street (Sherlock Holmes)
c) Gateshead (Jane Eyre)
d) No. 4 Privet Drive (Harry Potter)

Sweet dreams are made of these.

Hey there, bloggity blogworld.

Recently, I have been been indulging in a very sick and vivid fantasy. Hang on to your purity rings, kids.

This little fantasy of mine begins with me driving down the road on my way home from work or school, probably singing lousily to pop music (indulging another fantasy WITHIN a fantasy...I told you this was sick) as I am wont to do when driving. So I'm just minding my own business, and the roads are pretty clear (because minimal traffic in Orlando is CLEARLY the stuff of fantasies. If I can't have it in real life, it's happening in my daydreams, dammit!). Just driving...la la la...and then, a ways up ahead on the side of the road I spot something. Why, it looks like an animal. I slow down a bit and as I get closer I realize that it is INDEED an animal. And a really cute one. With a limp. I slow down and pull over and get out to inspect said animal and it turns out to be an Old English Bulldog with a hurt paw. I am overwhelmed with the cuteness and sympathy for the situation and upon realizing the dog is both friendly and rabies-free, I do my best to either lift it (if it's not too heavy, but those suckers can weigh a lot) or assist it back to my car, and I put it in the front seat. Right next to me. Where Sassy used to sit. Only she's not upset about this at all, because she knows I take good care of injured animals. ANYWAY.

Since I'm close to home I decide to go there (for those of my local readers, I imagine this taking place on Chapman Road, which has both good grassy side parts for the dog to walk on and close proximity to my home). And I get out and bring it in and Millie and ChiChi are like, "Whoa, wtf?" and my mom is all aww-ing over it. So we take it to the vet to get it checked out. And he tells us that he seems healthy apart from the injured paw (I haven't decided yet if this is like the old "thorn in the paw" trick or a hurt bone or tendon. IT DOESN'T MATTER. I just love coddling hurt animals), and seems to be about 3-4 years old. We bring him home to care for him and decide that we should probably put out "FOUND DOG" signs, just in case this is someone's dog. Besides, if someone had found Sassy I would've wanted them to at least make an effort.

So for one week I am incredibly hesitant about getting close to the dog. I just change its bandages and feed it and don't cuddle it even though I want to really really bad. And I probably cry a lot during this week. And nobody responds to the "FOUND DOG" posters and adverts. Enter week two of trying to find its home. Nobody responds. I'm starting to get hopeful at this point, because the dog is so sweet and nice and potty-trained (this is MY fantasy, okay?) and gets along with Millie and Cheech. And so then FINALLY it ends up that no one responds and I can keep him. And I name him either Shakespeare or Jasper (because "Jazz/Jazzy" is the CUTEST nickname EVER). And he sleeps in my room, on the floor so as not to messy my sheets, and we live happily ever after.



This is my deep and sordid fantasy. The purity ring comment was clearly a joke.