Another Day, Another Brick In The Wall

The sun is finally out and it's looking like we'll see the upside of 60 degrees for the first time in days. Back from a run with Camden the Wonder Dog who's clearly a dog but not so wonderful. He's in worse shape than I am, if that's possible. I've started leaving him home for all but the shortest runs.

Today's run: 3 miles bookended by 10 minutes of walking as warm-up and cool-down. 6 strides mixed into the last mile - 20 seconds of acceleration followed by 60 seconds of easy jogging. A short bike ride will round out this afternoon's festivities...unless the forecasted T-storms roll in.

Water Skiing In the WInter

Thanks to what happens when a really cranky Mother Nature meets a really stupid dog, my runs with Camden the Wonder Dog have turned into painfully slow attempts at injury-avoidance. Most of our snow melted last weekend, leaving behind a nice, icy sheen on the roads. And of course we've now had MORE snow to hide the ice.

Thus I resemble more water skier than runner as CtWD tows me hither and yon, back and forth across the road from a pile of deer scat to some disgusting frozen road kill. Tomorrow I'm adopting a new strategy. I'll take him out for a 2 mile warm-up walk/run, then stash his furry ass in the kitchen as I go back out for the main event.

He won't be happy but he's gonna like it even less if I fall and break a wrist.

Say! There Are Bubbles From That Hole In The Ice!

Well, the lake iced over last night. So I can't take Camden the Freakin' Wonder Dog in the back yard any more, at least not until spring. He's sufficiently stupid to run down the hill, across the dock and onto the ice where he'd frolic and play...until the ice gave way and he found himself swimming in water only a miniscule degree above absolute zero.

And, heartless bastard that I am, I'd feel absolutely no compunction to rescue the IQ-challenged hound from his own folly. So to avoid y'all laying a huge guilt trip on me, I'm doing the next best thing and banning his sorry ass from the back yard until one of the following events happens: summer arrives, the ice melts, he grows some semblance of a doggie IQ, global warming becomes a fact, or The Goracle volunteers to serve as CtWD's own personal lifeguard.

If he's right about global warming it shouldn't be a very time consuming job.

Camden the Poison Ivy Dog

Grrr. The season's first poison ivy blisters have raised their ugly head, confined to one forearm so far. I'm blaming Camden the Wonder Dog.

A neighbor, familiar with my struggles to turn CtWD into a running partner, lent me a so-called pinch collar. I tried it out this morning and it worked like a charm, much to Tri-Daughter #3's consternation! Instantly he became a well-behaved dog, though it'll take me a few weeks to get my running stride back now that I'm no longer being yanked hither and yon from one putrid pile of 'yech!' to another.

I've always been a believer in the "a little pain goes a long way..." school of dog training.

I had to plant my foot in his ass yesterday to get him off the porch and chasing squirrels away from the bird feeders. He turned and looked at me with a "Hey! What'dja do THAT for, anyway?" look, sauntered across the yard and hocked up something disgusting. Probably that area rug I've been missing.

A Target-Rich Environment!

Let's see...geese...sticks...cats...which should I chase first? Oh what the hell, let's just run around and see what kinda trouble I can create!

Wait...geese...sticks...cats...hey! That's a Golden Retriever triathlon! Where's his finishers' medal?

Can Dogs Get Hypothermic?

The ice melted, oh, yesterday. CtWD chased that damn stick about 40 times. It sailed further from shore with each throw, to no avail. He kept bringing it back.

And no wetsuit either. He's a way better open-water swimmer than I am, always with a grin on his face. I'm more inclined to facial expressions bespeaking, oh, let's call it panic.

Life On the Couch

Tornado warnings, driving rain squalls, thunder, lightening, power flickering off and on...nature's pretty loud today, even for the two bald eagles lingering on a snagged log 100 yards off-shore.

Eagles. Birds of prey. Raptors. Hunters. The neighborhood's kitties better look out. There's some new sheriffs in town.

Too wet and dangerous, I'm telling myself, for a run with CtWD. I'd hate to be a lightening rod attached with a metal chain to a big, wet, goofy, four-footed electrode. It'd be just my luck to have my fuzz buzzed while CtWD continues merrily down the road, ears flopping, completely unscathed.

Time for a Spanish red...wine. And a fire in the fireplace. And a movie...classic Alfred Hitchcock, I'm thinking. Something with Grace Kelly..."Dial 'M' For Murder."

I should probably do some work to prepare for my upcoming week with clients. I hope they like Spanish reds and Hitchcock blonds too.

"Holy Crap! It's Raining Cats!"

Today's story needs some stage-setting. Every morning, Camden the Wonder Dog arrows out the front door in search of adventure and a good place to poop. His trajectory usually angles him toward a cluster of bird feeders in the yard's east-most corner.

Said corner frequently contains several marauding squirrels, though for some reason, not today.

Anchoring that corner is a large evergreen tree, some kind of cedar, I think. Birds hang out there, resting between sunflower seed buffets. Squirrels do too, though for some reason, not today.

And my neighbors to the west own a coal-black tomcat named Panther, a large, usually-friendly, mostly-outdoor kitty who yowls and howls, plunders and pillages, generally cutting a big, loud swath through the country life.

So today, CtWD is tearing across the yard as usual when I hear something rustling in the cedar tree. Thinking it's either a squirrel or some steroidal hulk of a bird, I glance over and see Panther, two-thirds of the way up the tree, frantically reversing course and trying to climb down.

Apparently he's a better climber-upper than a scooter-downer because he loses his grip, slides down a branch and lands SPLAT! in a snowbank, 6 inches in front of CtWD's pointy nose.

I'm not sure how to describe the look on CtWD's face. The closest I can come is something like a stunned "Holy Crap! It's raining cats!"

Before CtWD regathered his mojo, Panther scooted around the corner and over the neighbor's fence. Good thing for CtWD; Panther woulda clawed his nose off.

But since the incident, I've noticed CtWD paying MUCH closer attention to the tree and its occupants. He circles warily, checks out the ivy patch underneath and all the branches he can see. Manna from heaven may not happen again in his lifetime but if it does, he's gonna be READY!

I'll bet the squirrels weren't at their usual posts cuz they were all fighting for the merriment's ringside seats. And I'll bet they're still laughing...

As am I.

Hell Comes At You From the Northwest

I'm cocooning in the Great Suburban Outback today, busy rescheduling what was supposed to be a full slate of business meetings in Chicago.  Roads between here and there are sheets of ice.  One Interstate is closed completely in both directions; apparently black ice is making it difficult for trucks to surmount a very small hill.  

Winds of 40 MPH are driving wind chills well below zero.  I think the trains are running, but the nearest South Shore terminal is still 30 miles away and the GSO's roads are worse than Chicago's.  Blech.

So I'll pray the power stays on, make a pot of strong coffee, fire up the wireless internet and a fire in the fireplace.  Got some Miles Davis on the hi-fi.  Maybe I'll fire up Camden the Wonder Dog for a mid-morning run and try not to fall on my ass.

I wonder what Tr-Daughter #4 is doing in Arizona right now?  Hmmm.

I Read The News So You Won't Have To

Speaking from personal experience, sometimes life swings for your 'nads...and misses!  What a great feeling!

Here's what I had for dinner last night.  I made enough for several days of lunches and snacks.  Yummy!

My goodness.  Add Mom, Dad and a neighbor kid and you've got your own football team.  (Reportedly, Mom plans to breastfeed.  Now, it's true I'm a guy and the mechanics of such things occasionally escape me, but isn't she, like, a little short on breasts or something?)

New research says playing in a lotta dirt may be good for you.  They should come to my house and meet CtWD.  He'd happily play ringleader and show you the Outback's best dirt...mostly in my kitchen.

iPod Shuffle: "I Forget You Every Day" by Chris Whitley, from "Living With the Law."  Roots music with a Daniel Lanois patina.  And "I Need To Know" by Tom Petty, from "You're Gonna Get It!"  Great drum warm-up track.  And "Monday" by ALO, from "Roses & Clover."  A modest little effort that hardly sucks at all.  And "Fotzepolitic" by Cocteau Twins, from "Heaven Or Las Vegas."  Swirling, textured soundscapes.

How Cold Is It, VM?

I'm glad you asked.  Last evening, I soaked in the hot tub for a while...first time in a week I've been warm.  From the hot tub to the house is about 15 steps, mostly through 2 feet of drifted snow.  So, of course, when I opened the door and stepped inside, some snow accompanied me.  I was too busy heading for a hot shower to care...at the time.

Now as I write this, almost 18 hours later, the same snow sits there on my carpet, unmelted, unyielding, mocking me.  

HAHAHAHA!   I'M INSIDE!  I'M ON YOUR CARPET WAITING TO FREEZE YOU ALL OVER AGAIN!  YOU CAN'T MELT ME!  YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME!  I OWN YOU!  I CONTROL YOUR FATE!  THE FRIGID DRAFT UNDER YOUR DOOR GIVES ME STRENGTH!  YOU AND YOUR GLOBAL WARMING NONSENSE!  YOU PUNY LITTLE WUSS!  HAHAHAHAH! 

Camden the Wonder Dog's gonna be surprised when he gets hit with a snowball IN THE KITCHEN!

That's how cold it is, thanks for asking.

Canada's Revenge

I hate geese.  When they're not fouling the waters and shores with bacteria-laden fecal material, they're acting like freakin' terrorists and going after airliners.

They missed this time.  A cool-under-pressure pilot saved the day, conferring on us a belated Christmas miracle.  I'm still getting my revenge, though.  Next Thanksgiving's table is gonna be groaning under the weight of roasted honkers with all the trimmings.

C'mon Camden the Wonder Dog!  Let's go a-hunting!  OK, you hunt.  I'll supervise.

But WHY Can't I Sniff Your Crotch?

Why?  Why?  Why?

E-L-E-V-A-T-I-O-N!

Let's see...some Camden the Wonder Dog musings from The Great Suburban Outback, where hell has, indeed, frozen over.

CtWD went flying outdoors a few minutes ago for his morning dump.  So far so good.  Unfortunately for him,  there are certain, er, practical difficulties involved in pooping in two feet of snow when your ass is only a foot-and-a-half from the ground.  Yeow!

His facial expression was as close to "WHAT THE HELL???" as these things ever get. Yesterday he tried the easy way: pooping on the plowed driveway.  I hit him with a snowball.  Pow!  Splat!

Uh-Oh! Taking On Water, Cap'n!

I dunno what CoachKaryn thinks of snow-shoveling as training (especially now that she's decamped for warmer climes where the only thing she shovels off her driveway is big giant bugs) but I'm feeling muscles I haven't used in a while.  Of course I'm listing noticeably to the right, much like a Liberty Ship after a U-Boat torpedo run. That shouldn't be much of a problem, should it?

Maybe a long hot tub soak'll fix things.

There's a large hawk (Red-tailed??) strafing my bird feeder patrons.  So far the chickadees & morning doves have escaped BEING the buffet, at least that I've witnessed.  Life in The Great Suburban Outback sure is fraught with peril.

Oh yeah, watching Camden the Wonder Dog plow through two feet of snow is pretty funny.  When he's not blasting through the woods like his ass is on fire, he's chasing each shovel-full of snow as I throw it.  

And about those shovels-full landing right between his ears?  Coincidence!  Really!  And that time my shovel smacked him upside his fuzzy head?  Completely accidental, I swear!  Life in the GSO needs comic relief, too.

Now CtWD is off to the doggie park with Tri-Daughter #3. Someone's having lots of fun this winter and I'm pretty sure it's the damn dog among us.

Cats Rule!

Some stupid dog named Marley is sucking up all the pet lovin' these days.  I think cats deserve equal time.  So meet "Dewey the Small Town Library Cat..."  I think he'd whack 'ol Marley right on the schnazola.

CtWD Dumps On The Outback

Hahahahaha. It doesn't get any better than shoveling the driveway and dumping each shovel-full right on Camden the Wonder Dog's pointy, empty head. He never figured it out.

Great aerobic exercise AND comic relief. Life is good...

iPod Shuffle: "You Can Leave Your Hat On" by Etta James, from "Burnin' Down the House." Smokin' version of the Randy Newman tune.

No More Political Ads! Yay!

I got up this morning, fired up the coffee pot and took Camden the Wonder Dog for a run.  If the run's much longer than 4 miles (like today) he poops out long before I do and I end up dragging his sorry ass all the way home.  He sleeps the rest of the day though, uninterested even in chasing the cat.

Then I polished off the coffee and some eggs and turkey bacon and, leaving CtWD recovering at home, I perpetuated that Great American Tradition; waiting in line, bellying up to that silvery machine, thinking about what I want to do for a moment, pressing the lever and a couple of buttons, checking everything over to make sure I did it right...yep, it feels darn GOOD to fill your tank with $2.18/gallon gas and have change left over from a $50.

Next, I used some of that gas to drive over to our Village Hall polling place, where I cast my "make up your mind at the last possible minute and pull the lever" vote.  Whatever happens during the next 4 years, it's partially my fault.  I admit it.  I'm saving you the trouble of reminding me.

The Furry Missile Himself