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| We have an announcement to make!
(my parents always said that when they were pregnant, and yes it's a little annoying)
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| I'm not sure, but I think we might be proud parents of a dog... or a small pony, I'm not sure which. If you've ever read the Mitford series, by Jan Karon then you'll know his name "Barnabas" is no mistake. The dog is bigger than a Pontiac.
He was (is?) my parents dog, but they are moving to Guatemala, and after mom nearly gave him away to some guy in LA, we tearfully eloquently begged them to let us have the dog instead, because well...we love him. The thing is, we weren't supposed to officially make the transfer until next January, but we've been babysitting him for the last month and a half and I think he's here to stay. Thus, I introduce you to the newest but not smallest member of our family (he outweighs me by at least 5 lbs). Barnabas.
He is a super cool dog. He follows Jamie around, up cliffs, down hills, under rocks and pretty much everywhere else but up trees. He even naps at Jamie's feet while Jamie is using the bathroom. Gross. But somehow it makes me feel better to know that my ever moving son has a personal body guard who can leap over small trees and snap firewood in half like it's brittle wishbone. So just in case any of you were thinking of carting Jamie off for ransom...don't. Just don't. In fact, I would not recommend rough housing or play fighting with my kids either unless Barnabas has approved of you first. His daddy is a police dog and he takes the family business very seriously.
Really, we have no complaints and the adjustment has gone beautifully. He comes when called, doesn't chew on furniture or bark unnecessarily . He eats his food with manners and his only vices are sneaking onto the carpeting (which he's not allowed on), and running up to the main house to play with his brother Max. It's kind of problematic when your dog can open any door in the house as good as if he were human. He sticks to us like glue until he realizes we are leaving somewhere and then he just lets himself out the back door and goes to his brother's house. It is far more annoying than it may sound. Sunday, Jim had to go to work which left me and my non-morning self to somehow whip everyone into ship shape for church. After I finally headed down the driveway, ten minutes late, makeup half applied and shoes in hand, I noticed Barnabas down the street. Of course he pleaded ignorance at my repeated orders to go home, and he looked equally askance at my request to at least follow the car back, so I ended up leaving the car idling with the kids, and I running Barnabas home again. Grrr... Just what I wanted, another person in the house to take care of.
But how can you be mad at that adorable face? I certainly can't.
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| Just in case you thought I was crazy for not liking movies, I'll put your heart at ease and assure you that I am at least fair, I hold an equally cavalier attitude about TV shows (albeit for entirely different reasons). The Washington Times recently published an article about not finishing books you don't like. "We should treat books a little more like we treat TV channels" it maintains. And while I understand what they're getting at, I'm afraid I have to respectfully disagree. The list of TV show's I've stopped watching is close in number to the amount of TV shows I love that get canceled, which unfortunately belongs to a fairly long list. I typically have no qualms dropping a show that has taken a turn for the worse (ie, whereas a book has to be utterly wretched in order for me not to finish it. Because with a book, you have a sort of understood contract with the author to answer *the question* even if its not to my satisfaction, or even if I don't like it. With a TV series there are no such grand allusions. And generally after the first season it becomes a frantic race to see how many tricks and twists they can throw at a dwindling audience in hopes of keeping them interested (note the "generally" because there are exceptions for sure). Some of this is not the producers fault. Actors have babies, quit, get roles in movies, die, and generally just wreck a different kind of havoc on a plotline than entirely fictional characters do. But still, as much as I practically idolize characterization I like to at least have enough plot so that hope and optimism still dangle out in front of me like a carrot. To know that even when I am annoyed by a particularly poor speciman of writing, at least it will lead you on a path to a finish line (at least we hope). TV however, tramples on my sensibilities. And I do promise that if Jim and Pam break up, I will stop watching The Office (at least I'll try). I don't care if it has to happen or not.
I do still watch an ample amount of TV. I even watched one of my top three hated disney channel shows today. Wizards of Waverly Place. Mostly because it was a breezy 110 degrees today and I didn't have the willpower to move my sluggish bones off the couch to change the channel. We did however manage to muster the energy to go outside every hour and douse ourselves in the hose in an attempt to survive (We don't have the ac hooked up).
I should only speak for myself however, because Jamie and Charlie had seemingly endless amounts of energy. And I finally got some video of Charlie walking...even though I had to bribe him with food to walk towards me and not the direction of the dog.
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| In an otherwise blissful marriage Jim does have one major teeny problem with me. I don't like movies.
At least not in comparison to the other things I love like books, and reading (not to be confused with books), and food (and eating too for that matter). It's not that I think movies sinful, or stupid, but I either can't get into the story at all and somehow remain detached and unexcited, or the movie plays me like a fiddle and I am tossed too and fro, from the edge of hysteria to heartfelt grief. Will she live? Will the human race survive?!?! Jim always expects me to know the answers to those questions and I never do. Thus, he finds movies relaxing and entertaining, whereas I always feel like I just survived a bucking rodeo bronco, or am so sad I feel like my dog just died. Consequently I prefer the intricacies and nuances of book reading, where at least if it gets too tense I have something tangible to grip and go white knuckled on, and I can put it down for a second and gasp "no he didn't just do that". For some reason Jim doesn't completely understand my need to pause a movie and just hyperventilate at the screen for a second before continuing.
Last night, at the invitation of Mrs. Smith, we went with them to Balboa park where one of the worlds largest outdoor organs lives. They have a summer concert series and this was their "Silent Film Night", presented with live organ music. It's like a typical Music-In-The-Park community thing, except with an old b&w silent movie, and a 4,500 pipe organ playing a soundtrack along with the movie. All of which is a respected art form. Who knew? I certainly didn't until last night, but now I'm a lifelong fan. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard during a movie. You'd think with all the evolved movie making technology, that comedies these days would be substantially better than their Charlie Chaplin forefathers, and sometimes they are, but last night as I was wiping tears from my eyes and clutching my overused laughing muscles, I was shocked to uncover an entire new genre of enjoyable movies.
Can't wait to go again next year, and if you live anywhere near us, you're welcome to join us. We'll hopefully be packing a wine and cheese picnic with all the works.
taken with Jim's phone
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| Wicked is playing here in San Diego and Jim got us tickets for our anniversary (along with a lovely weekend away from the kids in a fabulous hotel). The show was incredible...but shocking. Somehow, and I'm not sure how, I didn't know the Elphaba was good. In my mind, (and this mind you is after listening to the soundtrack dozens of times in the last few months) Elphaba was an outcast of sorts (true) and that there was some morally complicated dilemma (also true) that resulted in her going off the deep end and becoming the wicked witch of the west we are all familiar with (NOT true). Truly, I sat in my theatre seat in astonishment. But in a way, it made the musical all that more entertaining, since it didn't hit me like a bolt of lightening till the very end.  
Loved it.
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