Phrases we don't say often enough*

1. Sure, go ahead and put hot fudge on it
2. It was kind of expensive, but I'm worth it
3. I'll tell you how old I am when you tell me how much you make
4. You're right - I am pretty!
5. I'm sorry, I'll start listening when your conversation starts to interest me
6. Not only "no", but "hell no"!
7. Why don't you just take a picture of my chest?
8. Could you talk a little more about me?
9. Yes, I do already have a pair of shoes almost exactly like these. What's your point?
10. It's my birthday, who's buying?

*Taken from a birthday card I received from a great friend this morning --- does she know me, or what??

So, though I tried to ignore that yet another year has passed in my ever-so-exciting life, the truth came out and I am just going to enjoy and revel in the attention, not to mention the gifts =)

What's bugging me at the moment

1. the sound of flip-flops in the office - I know that they are trendy, but come on, this is the office for crying out loud
2. smelly bike couriers in the elevator - I realize that sweating is part of the job, but deoderant is widely available and a shower once in a while wouldn't kill you (and might just save the rest of us)
3. the fact that a plane ticket to Montreal costs over $700.00 round trip --- WTF???
4. that it is sunny outside and I am stuck in the office; I swear the beach is calling my name
5. wifebeaters as fashion --- gee, thanks Eminem, without you I would never have been exposed to the wonders of male body hair in obscure places

I am sure there will be more as the day progresses

How to make a grown man blush

Tell him that the beautiful court reporter from his examination for discovery thinks that he is better looking than Justin Timberlake, whom she met on set whilst portraying, what else, a court reporter.

This made him blush almost as much as when I told him last year that he is much better looking than Ben Affleck (not such a great feat as far as I am concerned).

hee hee

Boyz in the 'hood

I had breakfast/lunch this afternoon at Zen with the girls and 3 young men walked in, wearing matching ear bling, t-shirts - The Killers, Trailer Park Boys combat, Golds Gym - and one of them carrying a Gucci man-purse. All three on the cell phones. They had also obviously recently been waxed above the eyes.

I AM NOT JUDGING.

It simply amused me to no end.

Best 5 bucks I've spent in a while

Bought myself a bunch of massive white peonies, my most favourite flower in the world.

Who says you can't buy happiness????

My Granny

This post is kind of coming out of left field, and is a result of a conversation I just had with a co-worker. Follow the segue:

me: hey, check out my "stigmata"

her: huh??? what the hell???

me: stabbed myself last week in the middle of my hand catching a pencil

her: you know, scientifically speaking they would had to bang the nails through his wrists, not his hands and another thing, we are missing a few days between Good Friday and Easter Sunday if it took three days to go on the cross, die and resurrect

me: yup, I know and he was also probably born in August, not December --- when they were trying to convert the world to Christianity they took some poetic license to draw the crowds, so to speak

her: someone went to Sunday School

me: sort of, but my granny went to Mass every day and if you were on her "list", you were golden. In fact, Oprah did a story on her a few years ago, after she died

her: really? that's cool

me: yup, and my dad still can't watch it. I'll send you the link

here's the link: http://www.oprah.com/rys/journeys/rys_journeys_20000515.jhtml

Happy long weekend!!!

A tale of 3 (bad) dates

Date 1

A friend from back east had a friend moved here and was convinced that we would be a "great match". I trusted her so agreed to go out on a date with the guy. Like her husband, this guy is/was a broker. He picked me up (late) and said that he was taking me to a "real swanky place" (not bad looking, tall, good clothes). We went to the Salmon House on the Hill. I am very, very allergic to all seafood, fish included. I also find this particular restaurant to be very overrated, outdated and pretentious. However, I was keeping an open mind. This guy talked nonstop for 3 hours about himself, how great he was, how much money he makes, how many women he had dated, etc., etc., etc. I drank (couldn't eat anything, so what the hell). He didn't even notice, I don't think, that I didn't eat anything, though managed to get through most of a bottle of (very yummy) red wine. Seriously, it was the only thing keeping me sane.

We did not have a second date, though he did call and reportedly told my friend that he thought I was great.

Moral: Money/financial success do not equal class/style/personality

Date 2

A co-worker's fiancee's friend was "perfect for me" she said, so she set it up for the 4 of us to go to a movie and dinner on evening after work. Here's how it played out:

Him: Francophobe from Montreal, lower east side
Me: Anglophone from Montreal, west side

Him: huge chip on his shoulder
Me: don't give a rat's ass

Him: showed up wearing gold velour
Me: 'nuff said

Moral: Just because 2 people hail from the same province does not mean that they are going to be a love match.

Date 3

A dear friend whom I adore sent me an email that read something like this:

"Finn --- was at a party over the weekend and met this great guy that would be so totally perfect for you. We're going to Rodney's Friday, you have to come meet us."

Everyone tells me that you have to put yourself out there, so I went (again to an restaurant that could kill me, see a trend????). I was running late so I called to tell him that I was enroute. I am so sorry, I am so very, very sorry, were the first words out of his mouth. I should have turned and ran way. I didn't. My friend apologized to me throughout the evening; I made sure to drink very expensive cocktails on his tab. The guy was obnoxious, loud, a braggart; in short, a classic buffoon.
Over brunch the next day I asked my friend the key question: what in heaven's name made you think this guy would be so totally perfect for me????

I must have been drunker than I though, was the (sheepish) reply.

Moral: if friends offer to set you up with someone they met at a party, make sure to ask how many cocktails they had had prior to arriving at their conclusion

There you have it, my most recent dating experience in the city of Vancouver.

Voting

Maggie and I cast our vote last night. Won't tell you who for, 'cause that's kind of like asking a woman her weight, but in the end I was not wooed by a pretty face.

The whole election/voting thing got me to thinking about how much I like voting and all the happy memories I have that revolve around campaigns, elections and the like. Don't get me wrong --- I am so very not political and it is an area a steer clear of in arguments because I firmly believe in only participating in arguments I feel confident in winning and I don't know enough about politics to do that. However, I have been involved in a way in municipal, provincial and federal politics ever since I was a wee child.

My mum (and dad, I guess, but he wasn't home much when I was young, so I really just remember this stuff about my mum) was involved with the Liberal Party and would take us with her enumerating and canvassing. We wold also go to the polls with her and "help" the voters. We would also car pool older voters and others who couldn't get to the polls on their own. Looking back it seems of odd that it was my mother, who honestly doesn't not strike me as being particularly politically aware, who instilled the importance of voting in us.

Growing up in Quebec during the whole FLQ thing and subsequent PQ reign of M. Levesque made me quite aware that politics was very much a part of our lives. I proudly wore my "Non Merci" button on my school uniform in 1980 and firmly believed (still do) that "My Canada Includes Quebec". When I got old enough to vote, I did, in addition to working at the polling stations and driving people around. Perhaps my most memorable experience was during the referendum concerning the Constitution/Charlottetown Accord in 1992:

I was back living with my parents, briefly, and they lived down the street from Pierre Trudeau, hence he was in our riding. (aside: my dog Seamus and I would see Mr. Trudeau pretty much every morning on our walk and he would tip his hat, say good morning and pat Seamus each time. If for no other reason, I feel he was a great man and cried when he died) I was a volunteer and was manning the "check in desk" at the poll, verifying everyone's ID against the voter list. When I arrived in the morning there were tons of cameras and reporters surrounding the entrance of the polling station. "That's weird" I thought to myself as I entered. Why they were there became clear about 5 minutes later. The first voter through the doors and presenting his ID for verification? PET himself. I calmly checked his name against the voter list and off he went to cast his ballot.

Anyway, all this to say that I am glad I voted, feel strongly that everyone should as it is a privilege and a responsibility and am grateful that my mum got us so involved at such a young age and in such a positive way.

seduction by accent

Feeling rather more ambitious than usual when I got home last night, I decided to make the trek down to Edgemont Village with the mutt. I was also rather motivated, I must admit, by the thought of indulging in my new favourite treat: the blackberry-peach scone at Starbucks. The hike up Mount Royal, stroll down Mosquito Creek, hike back up Mosquito Creek and walk back down Mount Royal were going to be enough of a workout to justify the empty calories of the scone.* There was also, the added bonus of walking by the firehall with the cute firemen not once, but twice, but I digress .....

So, off we went. Maggie had a great time running down the creek, swimming, frolicking, chasing sticks, etc. Got to Starbucks and settled in at an outside table with my decaf Americano (it was after 7, after all) and my yummy and much anticipated scone and cracked my new Vanity Fair. However, I was soon distracted by a lovely voice coming from behind me; male, with the most wonderful, soft and lilting Irish accent. I am an absolute sucker for an Irish accent. I virtually melt. I sat and listened for a while with images of Gabriel Byrne, Liam Neeson and Colin Farrell (not the obnoxious Colin Farrell, but the lovely Home at the End of the World Colin Farrell) floating in my head (the voice was behind me, so I couldn't see the face). I was actually smiling to myself as I listened, not so much for content (quite mundane, actually) but for the sound.

Coffee and scone complete, I got up to leave and came face to face with the voice: a pimply-faced adolescent. Sigh ....... another dream crushed.



*Welcome to another facet of my really exciting life: I have the need to justify pretty much everything that goes in my mouth, red wine excepted. Have done therapy and am much better, thanks.

Books

Old books are like old friends --- reliable and dependable and comfortable. You know what you're gonna get and can pick and choose who you spend time with depending on your mood. I have had friends comment that I should just take books out of the library, seeing as how I go through them like water. However, I like owning books, good books, books that I can come back to again and again and again. They are a comfort of sorts for me.

I also love recommending books that I love and having other people love them, too. Now I also have my trashy books --- British Chick Lit, mainly. These are books that I get form the bargain tables or school fairs and charity sales. Books that don't require a lot of attention or thought. Brain porn, if you will. Not just any brain porn though. I am actually quite picky about the trash that I read. Sue Grafton of the alphabetized Kinsey Milhone novels is a favourite, as are Wendy Holden and Jill Mansell. I am new to Stephanie Plumb, female bounty hunter, but what I read thus far has been very entertaining. Books in this category are not as "precious" and they sort of rotate on and off the shelves, with the older ones finding their way back to charity sales and the like.

My father is a great source of "quality" reading material --- he is constantly buying books and will lend them out, providing you sign the book loaning book. I am serious. He actually has one. I tend to borrow 10 to 12 on each visit home and return the ones from the previous visit. This makes my luggage a tad heavy, but is well worth it. Books from my last trip home include: The Kite Runner, The Piano Tuner and The Bookseller of Kabal. All three excellent reads.

I got to thinking about this when I grabbed "Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters" and "Seymour an Introduction", two short stories by J.D. Salinger, off my bookshelf in my mad dash to leave the house this morning. I haven't read this book in years and got thoroughly engrossed on the bus this a.m. Say what you will about Catcher in the Rye, but Salinger was a phenomenal writer. He probably still is, but he hasn't published anything in over 50 years.

Wouldn't it be cool if J.D. Salinger had a Blog?

The glory of crushes

The subject of first tv/movie crushes came up at work yesterday. Sarah-Jill Miller (Gimme a Break), Nancy McKeon (Facts of Life) and Valerie Bertinelli (One Day at a Time) were the objects of desire for the boys. River Phoenix (Stand by Me) and Jordan Knight (New Kids on the Block) were "da bomb" for the girls (yes, there is a slight age variable to factor in here).

I will disclose mine later.

This got me to thinking about crushes in general.

My current tv crush is certainly no secret. This blog has had more than one entry devoted to him. No more needs to be said on that topic (well, for now anyway).

Other current tv/movie crushes: Colin Firth (Mr. Darcy, sigh), Patrick Dempsey (golly, but he grew up well), Johnny Depp (like, duh)

I currently have a few other "crushes" in my life --- one of my co-worker's best friends, for instance. He is totally married with kids, but no matter. It is a purely non-sexual crush and I have even told him. He was amused (I think). As far as I am concerned, it is perfectly healthy and acceptable to have these non-sexual crushes; they add a certain excitement and pleasure to your day and harm no one. I have no desire to be a homewrecker and despise those who do. As long as everyone is up-front, where's the harm??

I saw a former crush the other day. I say former, because he now gives me the heebie-jeebies. This guy, we'll call him "Bob" (so not his real name), is a client of someone I used to work for. Tall, handsome, well dressed (Prada, baby), educated, successful, great family, smelled really good, etc. Charm exuded from his pores and I would swoon when he came to the office. Well not literally as I was most often seated at my desk, but you get the general idea. Anyway, Bob's matter took up a great deal of our time so he was at the office a lot and called a lot. Those around me would know when it was Bob on the phone as my face would quickly turn the colour of a ripe tomato. Bob's appeal was not lost on the rest of the ladies in the office and his arrivals could be felt reverberating throughout. My desk would suddenly become "the" spot to be in the office. Bob because a bit of a legend. However, Bob began to tarnish as I learned more about him outside the professional realm. Seems he was/is a well-know player in town and while this should not have come as a huge surprise -- young, single, attractive, rich, rich, rich, in a town where available men are few and far between, it did. I liked my version of him: nice family kind of guy. I know, I know, I must some day visit reality. So, my crush came crashing down to earth. Saw him yesterday entering our building. That crush is sooooooo over.






My first tv/movie crush? Donnie Osmond and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

You can shoot stupid people, can't you??

I had a rather amusing little Maggie tale to recount this morning, but then I got these two emails and changed my tack:

"Our dog recently was surprised by our toddler, and bit him on the head (no blood drawn)(don't know about you, but if a kid climbed on me when I was sleeping, I would probably wake up swinging). I know our dog well, and I am positive that this was simply a natural reaction to being surprised from a deep sleep, and was in no way mean-spirited. That said, a toddler is a toddler, and I can't help but conclude that this may very well happen again. We are not interested in testing this. So. We are looking to find our dog a new home.

Hank is a 2 year old pure bred Chesapeake bay retriever (papers available). He is an awesome dog and we love him a lot. We are very upset and disappointed to come to this conclusion, but aside from our own baby, we have a lot of friends with little kids and simply can't risk having this happen again.

Hank needs an owner who can give him the time, respect, and guidance he needs to continue to be a great dog. He needs a lot of exercise- we have a dog walker for him everyday during the week so that he gets at least one good hike per day. As Micki will attest, Hank is a large, dominant dog and he needs an owner who tells him who's boss. He also needs a lot of love and attention. If Hank gets these 2 things, with steady exercise, he will be the happy galoot that we know and love."

and this one:

"I know of a miniature Schnauzer that needs a home by the end of May. Her name is Sophie, she was 2 on Christmas Eve, she is spayed, went to puppy training, and is an all around great little dog. The problem is she apparently barks when the owner's kids are playing etc..., I mentioned to the owner a possible solution (pennies in a can) which she said started to work, but she said the family had already made up their minds to give up the dog. She also did bite at the owner once when the owner attempted to "discipline" her when the owner was on the phone and Sophie was getting into something. The owner said that Sophie was very remorseful and that nothing like that had ever happened before or since. She gets along well with other dogs and is good with children."

This kind of stupidity makes me very, very angry (using my Marvin the Martian voice as I type this). Pets are not disposable. Period. Full stop. Bringing a pet of any kind, bird, fish, cat, dog, snake, is a huge responsibility and FOR LIFE.

Hank has stayed at my house. He is a lovely, lovely dog, just HUGE!!!! I don't know Sophie, but if the worst things she does is bark when the kids are playing, then I am sure she is great too. She's a terrier for God's sake!!!! They bark. Most dogs do (Maggie excepted).

Pets are family and as much as we would like to give away members of our family at times, we don't. Getting a pet is a major life decision not to be entered into lightly.

This is how Maggie came to be in my life --- her first family had researched her and wanted a puppy from two specific parents, Canadian Champion Super Dogs (I do not recommend this). They got her at 8 weeks and brought her home. 2 weeks later the dad left. Mum now had a 16 month old, a 6 year old and a 12 year old and a 10 week old, very active (she's from circus stock) golden retriever. The two older children hated the dog and blamed her for their dad leaving. The mum had too much on her plate and needed to find a new home for the dog. The kids wanted the dog gone. I saw her for 2 minutes and knew that I had to have her. The mum was very clear with her children when they told her to get rid of the dog and she told them that they would not be allowed to have any other kind of pet, ever. When I went to pick her up, the kids were, like, "bye Breezy (her old name). Mum, where's my bike?" If that had been me and my mum was giving away my dog, I would have been apoplectic. The bastard husband was pissed that they were getting rid of the dog and insisted that I pay him $500 for her. I did, and gladly. That was almost 6 years ago and I honestly can't imagine life without her.

As far as I am concerned, these people should be put on a list a people who are never, ever, ever allowed to have another pet for as long as they live.

Thanks, better now.

clichee

Ran a lunchtime errand at London Drugs. Surveyed my purchases when I got to the cash:

Tampons
Super-Strength Motrin
Thick, dark chocolate Caramilk
Jane Magazine

I have become yet another clichee =)

Ungrateful Brat

My friend Jocelyn left today to go home to Calgary. She has been visiting since last Saturday as she had some legal/medical crap to do in Vancouver, and will be back again early June for more of the same. Aside from my father, Jocelyn is probably Maggie's favourite person on the planet ---- Joc stayed with us for a few months back when Maggie was a puppy and they forged an unbreakable bond. Also, Joc's arrival generally means that we are going to do lots of fun stuff that includes the Princess, like trips to Oregon, runs at the beach, long sleep-ins after mum goes to the office. You know, fun stuff that requires a car and I don't have one.

Last night we went for a walk down at Ambleside Beach (I generally avoid Ambleside, but Joc's mum was here as well and I figured it wouldn't be too bad on a Monday night). We got to the end of the dog beach and Joc wanted to take a postcard perfect shot of a crave standing in silhouette on a rock at high tide. So, I put the mutt on leash and Jean (Joc's mum) and I waited while Joc went to get the shot. Well, you would have thought I was jamming hot pokers into the dog's eyes she carried on so much!!! The whining and crying and pulling and more whining and crying --- all because Joc went further down the beach and she had to stay and wait with me. Her mother. The person who provides for her. Rescued her from the negligent family. Lets her sleep on the duvet, not to mention the hand-built down couch. Feeds her organic chicken and lamb. Hires and pays for the lovely walkers who take her out each and every day while I am toiling away at the office. Sat up with her for 3 nights when she had kennel cough and sounded like she swallowed a bull frog Gets up at 6 a.m. every moring for a 45 mionute run in the woods and again when I get home at night, after that long day toiling away at the office. Mon Dieu!!

Joc got the shot, came back and Maggie was appeased.

Brat.

Right of out a friggin movie

We were sitting on the patio at Nevermind Friday night, enjoying a few cocktails and the mild spring night when a long, white stretch limo drove past us on 4th Ave and turned on to Blenheim. Right, grad season, we thought. Then the driver got out, opened the trunk and pulled out a couple of long-boards. Then a bunch of attractive skater guys got out, then a really attractive skater girl. They had a very obvious look of having enjoyed some "wacky tobaccy" quite recently; it was quite a scene.

The story we concocted as to what was going on:

Obviously they were sponsored skaters who had just wrapped up producing their new video game, based on them, at Electronic Arts. Their movie had debuted at Sundance and they were touring to promote it. Disciples of Tony Hawk.

The real story as told to us by the super cute boy in the Adidas jacket (yes, far too young for this old broad, but anyway):

They had been down at the beach, got a call from their bud the limo driver who had just dropped a bunch of kids off at their grad downtown and did they want to cruise around for a while. He picked them out, wouldn't let them smoke in the car, brought them to Spanish Banks where they, like, smoked a huge chonger man, and then dropped them off for some food. The hot girl was just some babe they had picked up in the beach, she's from Bermuda and they are all, like, hot for her, but really want to hang with her for the summer, so are hanging back and playing it cool.

We told him our story. He was like, cool --- I'm going to use that one for sure tonight.

We went home.

Prom

Tomorrow is Kentucky Derby Day, which means it is also the day for my highschool's senior prom. I did not attend my senior prom and now I want to. Not my senior prom way back in 1980 something, but a senior prom NOW, with most of my insecurities behind me and with the ability to actually enjoy such an event and, let's face it, it's the perfect occassion to wear a fancy dress and maybe even a tiara .....

I attended an all-girls boarding school outside Boston, Ma. for grades 9 through 12. Throughout most of highschool I was what can possibly be described as a cool geek. I was friends with all the "cool" girls, though I did not always feel comfortable hanging out with them "en masse". I was also rather bookish and I tended to prefer being by myself or with just 1 or 2 friends rather than a big crowd. That being said, my crowd decided quite early in our senior year that Proms were "stupid" and that we were far too cool to actually attend.

This, however, did not keep us from trying on loads of fru-fru dresses (think Boston, mid-80's, Gunne Sax and the like) --- kind of like Muriel's Wedding, now that I think about it. Anyway, I had a falling out, can't remember over what, with my two closest friends who were anti-prom along with me, and in "retribution" they attended the prom, leaving me by myself back at the dorm. Yes, I cried and then ate a pint of Haagen-Daz and a good portion of a Sara Lee Pound Cake (sometimes you just have to give in to the stereotype).

Now I wish that I had gone to prom. I never got to wear the fru-fru dress, get a corsage from some guy I hardly knew (all girls school) and eat rubber chicken at the Copley Plaza Hotel and get a cheesy picture taken and go to the Cape for the after party breakfast and all that fun stuff.

So, I have been thinking --- there must be othe people like that out there that want to either (a) go to a prom, (b) do the prom thing over again because it was such a disaster the first time 'round or (c) peaked in highschool and are longing to relive the best night of their lives.

Solution? Am thinking of maybe arranging some sort of benefit prom for a yet-to-be-decided charity .....

Coffee

I have a long and bumpy relationship with coffee. It all began in the mid-70's after my parents' trip to France. When they got back to Montreal, there was a subtle shift in the workings of the Casey household: salad was served after dinner, lots of strong chevre appeared on the cheese plate and the coffee started getting stronger and stronger and was served with warned milk, usually "en bolle". Oh, yeah, and lots and lots and lots of red wine was consumed together with the DuMauriers, though the latter were present long before the trip across the pond. So, at the tender age of 8 I developed a taste for the bean, insisting on the warm milk and passing on the sugar (still can't stand sweet drinks).

When I was away at boarding school, the "cool kids" hung out at the local Howard Johnsons and smoked cigarettes and drank cup after cup after cup of bad coffee. Funny thing --- we were terribly restricted in our activities at school, like we couldn't go off campus after 7 p.m. or get in to cars without very specific instructions or go to the movies during the week or even watch television during the week, but we were allowed to smoke, on campus, off campus, in the butt room, on the front porch of the dorms. At a buck a pack in those days (I am severely dating myself) why not?? Weird. Anyway, I couldn't tolerate the weak crap they passed off as coffee, so I started drinking espresso with lots of milk, this in the day waaaaay before Starbucks and other establishments of its ilk. This got me some flack, but whatever.

When I first moved to Vancouver I got a job as a "barrista" at Starbucks --- good hours, great benefits and all the coffee I could handle. Got all my friends hooked, too, and they blame for their addiction to this day. Sometime in my mid-20's I developed a stress induced ulcer and the doctor advised that I give up, among other things, drinking coffee. I did my level best, switched to herbal teas (YUCK!!!!!), drank lots of water, etc. Got the ulcer under control and chucked the flowers. I have managed to successfully quit smoking and stop drinking diet coke, but a girl's gotta have a vice, right?

Anyway, the reason for this little tale of my relationship with the bean? My friend Jocelyn is here visiting from Calgary (more on that another time). When she told me she was coming out, I informed her that the new rate at Casa Casey was a pound or two of Oso Negro Coffee, available at select locations, namely Nelson, Golden and Field, British Columbia. I made my first pot of Oso Negro this morning. Pure and utter HEAVEN!!! Super strong and not the least bit bitter. Yummy. I have even brought some of the precious beans to my regular Starbucks guy (he often shoots me freebies) and will hear his verdict demain.

Puppy in the house!!

Maggie and I looked after a friend's 4 month old puppy this weekend, Kenai. Too. Much. Fun. It did, however, cure me of my desire to get a new puppy (financial considerations aside). At least temporarily.

This was Kenai's first time away from home and his first experience with "big boy walks", ie no leash, running around free in the woods, playing with all sorts of other dogs, etc. Negotiating the 157 stairs down in to the trails was really quite a feat, being all bottom heavy and everything, and the mud puddles were irresistible (resulting in his first hose-down). Our regular 40 minute walk turned into a two hour affair ---- Kenai isn't quite as speedy as Maggie and everyone and their dog had to stop and play with the puppy (I made sure they gave at least some attention to the Princess as her nose was getting a little out of joint). Judging by most of the reactions to this little bundle of cuteness, people just can't resist a golden retriever puppy.

He ran around like a lunatic, fell over himself repeatedly, took mini rests along the way, barked at Maggie when she wasn't paying sufficient attention to him or his need to play with her, tumbled down the side of the ravine (he's fine). I got most of it on video so that his 'parents" can see what he did on his weekend away.

At the end of the walks he was tuckered and the two goldens lay side by each, legs splayed out in front, Kenai the miniature image of Maggie, for hours.

The rest of the weekend went as follows: where Maggie went, Kenai went. What Maggie did, Kenai did. Kenai's favourite toy? Maggie's tail. Man, she's a patient dog!!!! He slept in his crate at the foot of my bed and, contrary to his mother;'s warning that he is an early riser, didn't make a sound until 8 both mornings. Which is a very good thing 'cause Maggie is seriously not a morning kind of girl.


End note: boy do boy puppies have to pee a lot!!!! I am so used to Maggie the camel who is able to go over 24 hours without peeing, that we had a few "accidents" on the kitchen floor when my reflexes were a little sub-par. Oh well, at least it was on the tile floor.