The Mediocrity of Movies

I used to see a lot more movies than I do these days. For a while there, I was a movie junkie. I'd go to the theatre to see anything that appealed. I used to love the temptation of the popcorn-infused air, sitting down in a cool, dark theatre and just losing myself in the movie. Granted, if I didn't like it, I wasn't exactly quiet about it afterwards but I still enjoyed the movie-going experience. Many times, I enjoyed the movie.

These days, I still love the movie-going experience. It's just that…well…the movies just don't seem to be what they used to be.

Saying that, I probably sound like one of those crotchety old ladies who sit there and say "things ain't what they used to be." Although, for the record, I never use the word "ain't." Also, while we're on the subject, I will never, ever say, "where you at?" I hear that far too much in person and on the television and, let me tell you, the secret English teacher inside me wants to grab the utterer by the ear and give it a good tweak. That is NOT proper English and no amount of repeating it will make it so.

I digress. What I'm saying about movies is, well, that…mostly these days, they seem to suck. I find that I'm rewatching old favourites because most of the newer ones I've watched just aren't…good.

I know it's not just me. My family and friends are all finding the same thing. These days, if someone asks me if a film is good or not, most of the time the highest praise I can give it is, "it didn't completely suck."

There are some exceptions. I enjoyed "Inception," this summer. It was interesting. I think I liked it even though it's the type of movie that makes you feel like you have a perpetual expression of "Huh?" on your face. My inner 'geek' enjoyed "Scott Pilgrim vs. The World." But I couldn't say it was actually good. Aside from that, well, I can say that there hasn't been a movie in a while that has captured me and made me want to rewatch it again and again. Thinking back, the last movie that completely enchanted me was "Across the Universe," which I still contest was brilliant in its creativity, casting and level of enjoyability.

Yet…I haven't seen anything remotely that entertaining in quite a while, not at the multiplex and not on DVD. Well, not new on DVD anyway.

I just don't feel like they're making good movies anymore. Most of the time what Hollywood thinks is good is not what we, the paying moviegoers, think is good. The top grossing film of the year/summer was "Toy Story 3." I have no doubt it was good. I liked the other Toy Story movies but when it came out, I didn't feel like sitting in a theatre filled with kids and I never did find a time to go. That's my fault. I know. However, not everyone likes animated movies so even if that is the best movie to come along in a while, try convincing someone who doesn't like 'cartoons' that it's worth a watch.

Yet the other top ten movies of the year include "Twilight Saga: Eclipse" which has a built in audience and given the base material, stand little chance of actually being good. It also includes "Iron Man 2" which I admit, I enjoyed but it lacked the comedy and humanity of the first movie.

For the most part, when I see a film these days I feel like there's always a 'but'. As in, "it was a good film…but…"

It may be just me but I think when Hollywood has resorted to either remaking "classics," like "The Karate Kid," or Americanizing foreign movies that really didn't need it ("Let the Right One in" and "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo") or, gasp, making movies based on board games: "Battleship," "Candy Land," and a variety of other Hasbro-themed upcomers- I don't think it is just me.

I will say, however, that of all the 'board game' movies, I wouldn't be surprised if "Battleship," at least, is decent. It's going to be directed by Peter Berg who is the creator behind the fabulous TV show, Friday Night Lights. I think that has to be one of the best shows on TV. It's one of the most poignant and realistic ones too. He manages to take a one minute scene and do more in that than most do in ten minutes.

TV, in my opinion, is the new 'Hollywood.' That's where the creative minds are, the storytelling, acting, direction and all the other nuances that go into making a TV show something to which it's worth committing. While there are duds, there are actually good shows, shows you can talk about with people the next day and spend a while discussing. I think with the economy being what it is, people are staying home to watch their large 'small' screens because they can't afford to see it on the movie screen. The smart people in Hollywood know this. They're the ones looking for the next TV phenomenon. The non-smart people in Hollywood are making movies like "Knight and Day," and "MacGruber."

I guess the point of this blog is that I feel like Hollywood has stopped seeking greatness and has embraced mediocrity. Even the Oscars this year…I thought "The Hurt Locker," was a good film but it wasn't the type of movie you want to put in your DVD collection and watch on rainy days the way you might do with "The Godfather," "American Beauty," or even "Forrest Gump." It wasn't a mediocre movie by any standards but it also wasn't Hollywood.

I'm hoping that Hollywood starts to get better. I'd love to be able to describe a movie as "awesome" again. I'd even settle for, "it was good!

Instead, we simply have, "It was ok." "It was watchable." "It didn't completely suck."

High praise indeed.

Happy Thursday!

Cartwheel like No One is Watching...

I did a cartwheel in my back yard today.

This may sound like an odd thing to say or, for a 35 year old woman, even an odd thing to do. Yet it was a beautiful day outside, the grass was clear and appealing and I suddenly had an urge to do a cartwheel. I've had the urge before but usually don't give in. Today, I did.

I have never been graceful at acrobatics and today proved no exception but in a simple flip of the body, memories of childhood returned. There was a time when girls couldn't resist turning cartwheels whenever there was enough grass. It used to be something my friends and I just did. It was a natural reaction to clean grass on a summer's day.

Then I began to think harder. When, exactly, did we stop turning cartwheels? When was that magical line in life created that made us stop just going with our instincts to do backyard gymnastics and made us start questioning whether we should do them?

I can't even remember how old I was. I just know that it happened one day. It was most likely the same time that standing still, closing my eyes and just spinning to see what would happen stopped.

As a child, I always loved gymnastics. It probably began with a somewhat bad biography-film of Nadia Comaneci, the Romanian gymnastics darling of the late seventies. I used to want to be Nadia. I wanted to walk and twirl on the balance beam, to do a flip on the thin strip of covered wood and land gracefully without falling to the floor.

I tried. I was in gymnastics at school. I never did very well but I enjoyed it. It didn't really help that we had one of those stereotyped gym teachers who liked the 'pretty' girls and since I didn't qualify, he gave me no extra time at all. My biggest problem was fear. I couldn't get past the idea of what could happen if I landed wrong or if I fell. I could never do what the best athletes do- not worry about the consequences, to just do it.

Yet I still believed that I could. If I worked hard enough. If I got books from the library. If I watched the gymnastics on television. If I just worked hard enough, I could do it. I could do anything.

This belief stayed with me long past my gymnastics phase. I was a ballerina at one time, believing that I would someday dance en pointe, gracefully lifted into the air by my partner. There was always something, some passion that would ignite me to want to become something. Another time, I wanted to be in the theatre, hoofing it up, singing and dancing on stage.

I never remember anyone killing my childish dreams of gymnastics glory by saying I couldn't do it. I don't remember my parents laughing at me and saying that it was stupid to want to be a gymnast. Now I look back, I have a feeling that, instead, they smiled benignly and let me live out the dream until I got tired of it, which I inevitably did. My parents, instead, lived through years of my hiding in my room, dancing and pretending I was going to audition for "Cats". I tried to hide it but I'm sure they knew.

Through my life, there have always been dreams. As a child, they were dreams of the future. Nothing was unattainable. I still turned cartwheels as if no one was watching.

Then…I started thinking people were watching. That they would think I was stupid. That I was making an idiot of myself. I think, perhaps, that is when I stopped turning cartwheels.

I didn't stopped dreaming about the future but my dreams became tainted with a side of reality. I started the awful process of worrying what people think. This, as anyone who worries too much about what others think knows this leads to an unpleasant low level of self-esteem.

It doesn't matter though, whether you worry about what others think just a little or you worry about it a lot, you worry about it and it allows self-doubt to creep it. In can be as simple as someone noticing your coworker got half an inch snipped off her hair whereas you just had four inches cut off and you coloured it and no one noticed at all or it can be a downward spiral of feeling like you'll never be good enough for anything, that everything is a waste of time because you're just not good enough.

It all begins with that tiny, insignificant moment in life where you do something and instead of being uninhibited with the carefree airs of youth, you stop and wonder if someone is watching.

It all starts there. It's the moment where you stop doing cartwheels because they're not very good cartwheels and someone else with you is doing them better or you stop because you don't see what the point of doing cartwheels is or you stop because someone tells you to and you listen.

Once that moment hits, it's no longer to turn cartwheels as you did before. It's as though it's become something other than harmless fun.

I'm using cartwheels as a metaphor, of course. But you knew that. I think what I'm trying to say is that there was a time in life where the sky was the limit, that dreams were never impossible and that it was still possible to be anything. I was lucky enough to have parents who never quelled my dreams but let me find my way to them. They aided me as best they could but mostly, they let me live out the journey from conception to realization (whether actual realization or the realization that the dream was nice but it wasn't really for me).

Yet I let the self-doubt creep in when I turned that final cartwheel. I cared too much what people thought and I let it drive me. I still believe that dreams are possible but as adults, it's harder to remember that than it is as a child when reality has fewer boundaries and there are less obstacles to overcome.

I've still tried to follow my dreams as an adult but it's harder to drop everything and change direction when you have responsibilities. I'm trying to make my dreams of becoming a bestselling writer come true. If I was still the wide-eyed, believing child I was, I wouldn't doubt that it was going to happen. I'd still be sitting in the corner, scribbling stories about snails on scraps of paper, writing stories about how the sheep got its fleece and knowing that it was only a matter of time before I was doing book signings and admiring the thousands of copies of my book I saw in stores every day.

As an adult, I wish to be that hopeful, that the scars of reality and piles of rejections haven't made me wonder what I'm doing with my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm still trying. I still want that dream. Being a writer is one of the few dreams in my life that has stayed with me without changing since I was a child. It's just that nowadays, I realize that there's no magic wand to wave, that things don't just happen. I have to make them happen. I can't sit and wait for someone to find my work and say, "by golly! What an undiscovered talent! I wish to make you a bestselling author."

Though I admit, that would be rather nice, wouldn't it? Things like that only happen in fiction, I think. If they happen in reality, they don't seem to happen to me.

Yet, I haven't given up on dreaming. I am trying to work my way back across the obstacle course that sprang up when I started caring what other people thought, the day I stopped turning cartwheels.

So, today, I did a cartwheel. I don't care if anyone saw me. I don't care if it was more of a pathetic kick and spin than a genuine cartwheel. It was the way I always did them.

For a split second, it was a return to the days of my youth where I didn't care what people thought. I did what I wanted to do because I felt like it. There were no voices in my head telling me that it wasn't a good cartwheel, that it was a silly thing to do.

And then I realized that this was the matter precisely: There were no voices in my head telling me not to do it.

It just proved that all along, the voice that has held me back has been the one that has spoken loudest has been mine all along and I chose to listen.

I can't promise I won't still hear it but I can promise that I will try not to pay as much attention to it. If I forget, I'll just go turn a cartwheel. If it's raining, I'll close my eyes and just dance or spin until I get so tired, I'll flop down on the floor and pant like a puppy that has played too much. If it's snowing, I'll make a snow angel in the snow, kicking my legs until the snow is a flattened, diamond surface beneath my feet.

Or, if it's every day, I'll follow my dreams as if they can come true.

Happy Thursday.

Pea Eating Dogs...

Today was one of those super busy days that whizzed by so fast that I almost didn't remember to look at the clock. This is always a good thing. It also seems that the next week or so will continue to be like this, a fact for which I rejoice. There's nothing worse than having to try to find something to do at work. I can always find something but it never feels like it's something that matters. I like to matter in my job, no matter how insignificant the work is that I do.

As usual though, I did have time to run home for lunch. It's sort of a mandatory thing given that I have puppies that need to go outside to do their business. I love to go home at lunch for this reason too. Sookie has made it her habit to greet me with lots of excitement and kisses as soon as she's freed from the crate. Rory, of course, runs straight for the backdoor. I still can't figure out if she just wants to start her rabbit-sniffing immediately or she has a small bladder. Given that she wakes me up almost nightly at 4 a.m. to go out, I think it might be the latter. She doesn't stay out long enough on the chillier mornings for it to be more than a quick piddle in the garden.

If you don't know what a piddle is, you can look it up in a British slang dictionary. It's also know as a tiddle or a wee. Yes, we have odd slang. I find it endearing.

Anyway, in addition to be greeting with an adorable amount of enthusiasm from Sookie Sue today, I also made an alarming discovery that my dogs love peas. Not just like them, they actually fought over them.

You might be wondering why I had peas at lunch. If you know me, you'll know that it's not abnormal that I eat odd things at lunch. I tend to eat leftovers. Last year, I made fresh peas with mint for dinner. I had a lot left. They make a decent lunch along with a twice-baked potato. I had a lot of peas left and I couldn't eat them all. Rory, as usual, was trying to see what I was eating. Whatever I am eating seems to be fascinating for the pups. They're very good and don't try to snatch or jump up at me. More than anything, they just want to smell what I have. Their smelling is our seeing, I believe. Once they've smelled a sample, they decide if it's worth looking adorable for in order to try to secure a taste.

This happened today with the peas. Remembering that I've seen peas in canned dog food (in that 'country stew' flavour that they make, I think), I figured it wouldn't do any harm to let them try it.

Well, let's just say, one pea wasn't enough. They just kept wanting more. They actually tried to snatch each others peas.

I found this fascinating. You just don't think "dogs" and "peas" in the same sentence. Well, not the kind of peas you eat, anyway.

It endears my dogs to me. As a Brit, I think it's in our blood to eat peas. They're just a staple. When in doubt, make peas. We eat them frozen. We eat them fresh. We even eat them mushy. We like pea soup. We like pea salad. We just like our peas.

I actually have two friends that don't like peas. I've never understood this. Peas are the most inoffensive vegetable I can think of, honestly. They're tiny. They're cute. They don't have a huge flavour but one that just enhances a meal.

I suppose everyone's different, I suppose. Taste buds differ. This is why I don't like sour cream or tarragon. I really want to like tarragon. I keep trying. I just don't like it. Sour cream, on the other hand, is just not going to happen.

Sometimes it's not about taste, it's about texture. I'd love to like shrimp and scallops. Yet I can't get past that feel in my mouth when I eat one. I just can't do it. I've tried. I like the flavour of shrimp but just can't deal with the texture. I have friends who can't eat fruits with teeny seeds, like strawberries and figs. Now me, I love the seeds. I find figs to be one of the most perfect fruits ever. They're sweet but tangy, firm but soft and have a delicious crunch. I have friends who can't eat peaches 'cause they're 'furry'. I enjoy the furriness of the peach far more than the nakedness of a tangerine.

I think I should top talking about fruit. If you didn't know I was talking about fruit, that might be a bit of a risqué paragraph if you had the mind of a 15 year old boy which, honestly, most of us do at times.

Anyway, this babbling is all a result of the fact that my dogs seem to love peas. It surprised me. It surprises me more that both dogs liked peas. Normally, it's Rory who's my little 'goat' and Sookie is my picky eater. Rory likes blueberries, peaches, strawberries, apple and peas. She's also been known to enjoy a bit of cabbage and cucumber. I find it cute. I never give her too much, just a taste. She lets me know if she likes it.

If you're still reading, I appreciate you staying with me. I've decided recently that I have the capability to babble about anything in writing. It may not be completely factual but I do aim for entertaining. Hence the fact that I can take a single, teeny event like my dogs eating peas and turning it into a blog.

I'm not sure if this is a skill or a problem. Oh well. At least I'm writing…right?

Happy Wednesday!

The Dachshunds Bill of Rights.

I have dachshunds. If you read my blog regularly, you'll know this. If you stumbled upon it, well...welcome.

The reason I'm stating again that I have dachshunds is that having been around a lot of dogs in my life, these long little dogs are a breed unto themselves. If you're thinking of getting a dachshund, there are certain things you should know. Many of these things you can find online or in books that talk about the personality and temperament of the breed. However, there are some things you won't learn unless you either get your own dachshund or you talk to someone who has one.

The thing with dachshunds is that they're stubborn. This you will read everywhere. What you won't read is the Dachshund Bill of Rights that I'm about to give you. I should say this is the "Dachshunds 'Expected' Bill of Rights" in that you don't HAVE to agree with it. Just know that the dachshund in question will do what he/she wants to do anyway so you might as well know what you're in for.

THE DACHSHUND BILL OF RIGHTS

1. Dachshunds do not like to be cold. Most of all, dachshunds do not like a cold nose. If his/her nose is cold, he/she will find the most convenient source of heat from which to warm the nose in question. This often means you. They especially like it if you're in a bathrobe or under a blanket. It is their right to usurp said blanket or bathrobe.

2. Dachshunds will sleep on the bed with you. It is their right. It is also their right to burrow under the covers. Do not try and stop them. They get rather crabby if you prevent them from burrowing. They will then use you as a source of heat. They also like to lie horizontally across the bed. If you do not have enough room, your dachshund will not care.

3. Dachshunds are the master of the pitiful whine. They also have enormous sad eyes. If you give in once, you will always give in. They want you to give in. This is why they end up sitting up on the couch and sleeping in your bed. They also manage to make you feel guilty for punishing them, even if they deserved it.

4. If you let your dachshund up on the couch, it is his or her right to take up as much room as they want. If you get up for a moment from the couch, you will return to find your dachshund has stolen your spot but still somehow managed to occupy his/her old one. They are long-bodied dogs and they know how to use that to their advantage.

5. Dachshunds are always hungry. You can feed them and feed them and they will still want more. Be careful not to overfeed them. They will try anything once but they may not like it. This does not mean you shouldn't offer them the same food in future. They might have changed their mind. Also, though you know you shouldn't give them 'people food', they want it. Badly. They especially love sausages, bacon, chicken and anything from the meat family. However, they have also been known to enjoy fruits. And vegetables. Also, dachshunds might look small but when they stand up on their back legs, they have quite a height. This means they will try to steal from your table. Beware.

6. Dachshunds dig. You can try to stop them. You can try to make them a digging spot. You can try to encourage them to dig somewhere else so it isn't so visible. This will not work. Dachshunds will dig where they want to dig. You can try to stop them but the minute you turn your back, they will dig a hole. Soon, you will have lots of little holes in your lawn. Fight back if you like but after a while, you'll realize that it's better in your lawn than under your dianthus, roses, marigolds or tomatoes. Dachshunds do not care what is above their digging spot. They like to dig.

7. Dachshunds like to collect things. They will find rocks and sticks from places you never imagined. They will collect piles of them around the holes they have dug. When you go to mow your lawn, you will find their collection. Beware. This habit is not good for lawn mowers.

8. Dachshunds are scent-hounds. They can smell extremely well. When they catch the scent of a squirrel or rabbit, nothing else in the world matters. They will hunt and track that scent until they are dragged away from it. If you are walking your dachshund and they scent a bunny or squirrel, you will know it. The leash will go tight and you will have to hold on. If they actually see a bunny or squirrel, you will need to hold on very tightly. Dachshunds also do not understands that birds can fly and squirrels can climb trees. Thus, they, too, will attempt to fly or climb trees. Both will end in a very dismayed dog who would be content to stand there until the squirrel or bird came back.

9. Dachshunds like to go for walks to smell things. They don't really know the meaning of the word exercise. That is just something that is a by-product of smelling. If you take them for a walk, they will let you know when they're tired by simply sitting down. You might have to accidentally drag them before you realize they're done. Dragging a dog in public is not good. If your dachshund has really had enough, you may have to carry him or her for the duration of the walk. The dachshund will then sit comfortable in your arms as you attempt to arrange his/her long body for comfort. However, if they smell something, they will then wriggle and you MUST put them down.

10. Dachshunds don't understand boundaries of any kind. This may be a physical boundary such as a fence or human-enforced boundary such as, 'don't steal food from the table.' They see both types of boundaries as a challenge. If a dachshund smells 'something' on the other side of the fence, they will somehow manage to fit through the tiniest hole or gap in order to try to get that 'something'. Make sure your fence is dachshund proof. Once they find a hole, they will use it until you stop them. For human-enforced boundaries...good luck with that. Dachshunds tend to be willing to endure the punishment in order to reap the benefits of the crime. When it comes time for punishment, see #3.

In exchange for following this bill of rights, you will receive love, kisses, cuddles and devotion from your dachshund. Unless they don't feel like giving it to you. Or they smell a squirrel.

Just kidding. They're the best dogs in the world, in my opinion. Each one has a very specific personality but it's worth every minute. I think every breed has its quirks and every human is drawn to a certain breed. It's just my luck I get drawn to a stubborn quirky one.

Or maybe it's not luck at all.

Runaway Sookie!

Well...the weekend is almost gone...again. I hate that it goes so fast but I know I'm not the only one who feels that way.

As a whole, the weekend was quite nice. There were moments of stress and panic but, for the most part, things went well.

Weather-wise, it was mostly a beautiful weekend. We had a bit of rain on Saturday morning. It was enough rain to send the garage-salers under shelter but it lasted maybe ten minutes at most. When it was done...it was done. The sun came out, the ground swallowed the fallen precipitation and it was as if it never happened.

Sadly, my garden is not happy about this. My garden is thirsty. I water it bi-nightly with a hose/watering can but it's not enough. It's crying out for a rain that doesn't want to fall. When it does fall, the ground is so dehydrated that there's not enough moisture to satiate it.

We still wait for our rain, even with the meager shower we got yesterday.

Still, as far as garage sale-ing goes, it was a pretty good morning. I didn't buy too much but I did manage to score a set of four salad plates, new in the box ($1) and a set of four dinner plates, new in the box ($2) by designer Tracy Porter. I estimate I got at least $50 worth of plates there. They're also really pretty so I will use them rather than e-Bay them. I was pleased, to say the least. I also got a garden gnome ($2), a Julia Childs cookbook ($.25) and some Avon pumpkin spice bubble bath from my Avon-Lady-Who-Is-Also-My-Next-Door-Neighbour. All in all, it was a good garage sale day.

As a whole, though, the day was not as relaxing as I'd have liked.

I was woken up by Ms. Rory Wrigglebottom at 4 a.m. She needed to go out. I humoured her. We went back to bed. At our normal weekday 6:03 a.m. wakeup, Rory woke me again. I ignored her until 6:45 a.m.

By this time, she'd progress from gently nudging me with her face to full-on, sitting on my head and bathing my ear with her tongue. This meant she really needed to go out. I finally sighed and let her and Sookie outside. Since this tends to happen every weekend, I've got into the habit of cracking open the back door, letting the pups out and then going back to bed to doze until they're ready to a) come back to bed or b) to have me get up with them at a reasonable hour.

This didn't happen. Instead, I went back to bed, as normal. Then I heard Rory yipping. Normally, it's Sookie who yips so I was a little surprised. I gave her a few minutes to settle down. Still she yipped. Concerned, I got up to see if she was ok.

Well, it turned out that Ms. Sookie had found her way under the garden gate and was running in the road, trying to find squirrels. Needless to say, I was no longer sleepy. I threw on some clothes and went to try to catch her. By this time, she was quietly waiting by the gate, ready to come in.

I was furious but also relieved. I knew, deep down, that all she wanted was a bit more freedom but I couldn't help being upset that she'd 'run away.' Also, I was relieved that no cars had come down the street.

After that, I spent quite some time securing the gap under the gate so a repeat escape wouldn't be feasible.

Silly Captain Monkeypants.

I came home from garage sale-ing, let the pups out only to hear Rory barking. Again.

Yep. Sookie was out. Again.

This time, I was both furious and upset. I managed to catch her and bring her in, much to the bemusement of the neighbours.

Why is it that it's so upsetting to have a scene like this witnessed? To my neighbours, it was an amusing scene of escaped dog. To me, it was a completely relieved scene of me managing to coax my dog to safety before one of the many bargain-hunting garage sale-ers didn't see her in the road.

Needless to say, I went to Lowe's, bought a few paving stones and finally succeeded in securing the escape routes.

It was not a fun day. I'm just glad Sookie is fine. I'm sure I over-reacted but, at the same time, she's a sheltered pup who doesn't know the danger of a high-speed motorist.

Sunday was better. There were no escape attempts. In my efforts to try to entertain Sookie in case she was trying to escape out of boredom, I took her to the local state park. She, Rory and I walked 2 miles around a pretty lake on a beautiful autumnal day. It doesn't get much better than that.

I think the walk worked. Since then, the pups have been fighting sleepiness. I think that tonight, they might sleep well. I know I will.

It's been a busy weekend. As always, it wasn't quite what I planned. But I can't complain.

It was still a weekend.

Happy Monday!

Near-Autumn Walks and Such

Today was a busy day at work. These are good days because not only do I feel like I'm actually doing something and serving a genuine, actual purpose but it also makes the day go by very quickly. It's nice to look at the clock and realize that a couple of hours have passed instead of, as on a normal day, glancing up very frequently and wondering why barely any time has passed.

In addition to it being a nice busy day, it's also another, cool autumn-day. Last night, I slept with my bedroom windows open and I woke up chilly under my light bedcovers. If I knew the coolness was going to stick around, I'd add another blanket to my bed but I know it's supposed to warm up again. Besides, I have two dachshunds on my bed who provide me with a little extra warmth so I really don't need it.

Of course, I'm aware that I'm actually the one providing the warmth to the dogs. I'm not that delusional that I think they're trying to do me a favour. This can be evidenced by Rory burrowing under the covers after having a little groan.

Rory groans a lot when she's sleeping. If you so much as touch her while she's in 'sleep-mode', she makes this rather adorable groaning sound. If she stirs in the night, she groans. If she's annoyed about being disturbed, she groans. You get the idea.

Thus, last night, I half-heard her groan in my own sleepy state and then I felt her try to find a way under the covers. She couldn't seem to find a way in and she started to get upset so I ended up lifting the covers up so she could warm up. Sookie, meanwhile, rather cutely just snuggles up with me so that we woke up almost nose to nose. There is a reason why I call her my 'teddy bear dog.'

Since it's cooled down, it means the weather is highly amenable to taking walks with the dogs. They've started actually responding to the word "Walk" and so when I say it, they sit by the door, waiting. They didn't used to do this. They used to hide. That was when I used to put on their adorable but rather fiddly and complex little pink harnesses. Now they're bigger, those harnesses don't fit and they have much more comfortable ones that require a mere slipping over the head and stepping into it in order to get it on.

We try to take our walk before Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer comes home from work. It's riskier to walk by his house on nice evenings. It's also harder to get away if he does entrap us in conversation because I can't necessarily use the, "I need to take the pups home because they need to drink water," excuse that I use when it gets hot.

Still, we haven't seen Larry in a while. Well, we haven't seen him to talk to him. We did walk and see him in his garden but, fortunately, he was engrossed in picking tomatoes and he didn't see us. It probably helps that I walk very quickly and I also try to remain very, very quiet so he doesn't hear us. I'd like to think the puppies know we're avoiding him because they certainly seem to walk faster.

For the most part, walking with the pups in the evenings is a pleasure. It's beautiful weather, I'm getting exercise and we can explore the neighbourhood. The only part that isn't so much of a pleasure is the squirrels. I can always tell when Rory and Sookie see a squirrel because suddenly, my arm feels as though it's trying to be disconnected from its socket and the leash goes very, very taut. I'm trying to teach the girls that they cannot, in fact, climb trees and follow the squirrel but they still attempt to do so until I remind them who's the boss by giving them a stern tug on their leash.

Squirrels are their new bunnies. We have quite a few around our back yard. Having discovered the source of the hickory nuts- which is a tree in Possibly-Joe's front yard- I'm no longer alarmed at finding hickory nuts around my house. The girls like to try to chew them but the nuts are so tough, they can't break the shell. The squirrels, however, have taken to sitting on the fence or up in the trees and chewing on the nuts. You can hear the "tchhk tchkk tchukk" of their teeth as they chomp the encasement for the nuts. It falls to the ground and leaves quite a mess, rather like a human who throws their trash all over the place and doesn't pick it up.The puppies have learned to recognize the "tchhk tchkk tchukk" sound. The minute they hear it, they go into obsessive-crack-junkie-mode and they attempt to locate the source. The squirrels are far craftier than the rabbits though. They can climb trees for one thing and they're also much quicker. The puppies have been thwarted on more than one occasion as they attempt to catch a squirrel for playtime.

There's no doubt about it, with the chill of the night air and the increased number of nut-harvesting squirrels, autumn is almost upon us. Give it a couple of weeks and we'll start calling the hot days "Indian Summer". For now, as summer is losing her hold and giving way to autumn, we're in that pleasant transition between seasons where you never know what each day will bring. While I'd rather it stayed cooler, there's something about not knowing which show itself tomorrow that's rather nice.

It's just nice to be surprised sometimes.

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Waiting for the Rain to Fall...

itIt's another beautiful autumn-like day out there again today. Last night, when I got home from work, we had the hope of a storm. The sky had clouded over, the wind had picked up and then, in the far distance, a rumbling of thunder.

I got excited about that. We haven't had rain in over three weeks. That is not an exaggeration. The ground is dry and cracked. The grass is yellow and brittle. My plants are all drooping even though I water them regularly. Every day I listen to Frank Marzullo and the Fox 19 Stormtracker Weather and hope he says we're going to have rain.

Yet, even when he does, it doesn't rain. I know that's not Frank's fault but I like blaming him anyway.

The storm last night was a storm. For a few moments, lightning whipped across the sky and we had some cracks of thunder that were so earsplitting and loud that Rory, usually unafraid of storms, whimpered and came running over to hide between my legs.

Then it began to rain and I went outside to let it fall on my face. It smelled as it always does after a long, dry period. The smell of dust floats up into the air, the asphalt from the road adds in its acrid odor and the whole world just starts to get wet.

Only in our case, then it stopped. We had maybe two minutes of rain altogether. It was if the storm came, decided it was bored and it just stopped.

I was disappointed. I think the puppies were too. In spite of their aversion to baths and, also, getting their paws wet, they have no problem frolicking in the rain. They usually come in, soaked and I have to grab them to towel them off so they don’t attempt to dry themselves on the carpet or, worse, the couch. Of course, as soon as they see the towel, it becomes less of a drying instrument and more of a tug-of-war toy.

So, we never got our rain. Instead, we got a couple of hours of searing heat and humidity before the evening air came and miraculously cooled everything down. Yesterday, it was 93 degrees. Today, it's 78 degrees. I'll take today's weather in a heartbeat, even if the rain never came.

Frank Marzullo said we might have rain Friday night and Saturday. I don’t mind the Friday night rain but Saturday is our neighbourhood's annual garage sale day and I was planning my tour of the sales to hunt for bargains. It's no fun if it's wet.

Still, I think we need rain more than I need more cut-price bargains. Yard sales are a little like having a couple in a grocery store. You don't really need the item you're looking at but since you have a coupon and you're saving so much money, it seems like a crime not to buy it. Never mind that the item will sit in your pantry for ages before you either have to throw it away or try it and realize that you don't like it. This is probably why I have umpteen packets of Lipton Rice and Sauce in my pantry. These days, I prefer to make my own rice rather than the packet mix but when I bought them, it seemed like a good idea.

Yard sales are the same sort of thing. I have several items that I got for less than a dollar that I now wonder what possessed me to buy them. I bought these little candleholder/mini urn things that I thought would look nice with some tapers in them. Well, tapers didn't fit and I couldn't get them to stand up in the holders even by melting the bottom of the candle and trying to use the wet wax as a glue in the candleholder. I finally gave up on the candles since they were so precariously balanced that every time I'd bump the table upon which they stood, they'd fall over.

The candleholders are now, slightly inexplicably, on top of my microwave, sans candles. This means they're also in front of my breadbin. This means every time I reach for my bread from the bin, I knock those stupid candleholders aside. Reason says I should just move them and I keep meaning to but it's just one of those things I never seem to either remember to do or get round to. If I hadn't felt compulsed to buy them for 25 cents at a yard sale, I wouldn't have this problem.

Thus, if I do end up going to the sales on Saturday, I must practice better restraint. Now I've lived in my house for over a year, I have less need for decoration and items to make my house look more cosy. It's quite full already. I really don't need any books although the lack of need will mean nothing if I come across a sale with a good book selection. Books are my biggest weakness. I know that I don't really need any more but I like to have books. Books are the friends that always have time for you, as long as you have time for them. They let you curl up with them and get lost in their pages and let the realities of life slip way for just a few minutes.

Still, maybe I'll make a pledge to only buy books that I really think would benefit my collection. Of course, if it rains, this might be a non-issue since books won't be for sale in the rain and, if they are, they'll turn into a sodden mass which makes them significantly less appealing.

But that's the coming weekend, not today. For now, Frank Marzullo says that it's supposed to be cool, sunny and lovely for the next couple of days.

As much as I want rain, I can live with that.