Needle Noses

A modern miracle of ... something.

It's Australia Day here. Because I landed on the 31st of December and had only two free days before I had to play stepmum, I hadn't bothered with resolutions. I think I'll work on them between Australia Day and my birthday (31 Jan). One resolution will be to blog weekly instead of weakly. I also have to get caught up on other people's blogs.

Okay. One down. Blog more often.

~~~
Just a short note today. I'd like to announce that we have had a miracle in our house. Mark's toast still comes out normal--no Jesus or Mary. The same goes for our tortillas. No, this miracle is about Omo, and I believe it has something to do with the magic of the Australian Open.

Omo grew ersatz testicles. I have no idea how a dog gets a tennis ball wedged in between his hams. I go nuts if my undie tag is tickling my back. What you can't see (and what cracked me up) is that it's not on the blanket. The ball is wedged in. Tamale?

Did she find the tennis ball to uncomfy for her hard noggin and just nudge it away without a care in the world for how her bedmate would feel? Don't feel too sorry for Omo. I took heaps of photos, but I deleted most after I looked at them. It seems the fuzzy ball was making the lipstick come out.

I'm okay with talking about anything, really. You name it. I can even post about anything. Photograph anything. There is just something about the doggy lipstick that brings out the puritanical censor in me. This is a lipstick-free blog.

And by the way, see that "bed"? It's just a single comfortor. They insist on coming in to the sleep-out when I'm on the computer. I got tired of dragging their proper beds. They'll sleep on that flat thing over the bean bag and foam bed, too. So yes, they have better beds. They just "suffer" while I'm awake. I know where they sneak off to when I'm asleep. I see the pits in the furniture. Feel thee not sorry. Feel thee scorn!

What happens to the other bedding when the dogs are playing Internet police with me? Don't worry about waste. Not with my crew.

And maybe I just answered the question about the tennis ball.

~~~

Go back to the first photo.

My dad and stepmom gave my stepkids the Journey to the Center of the Earth (3-D) DVD for Christmas. While they and Mark were watching, I came in with my camera to take a photo:

 

If you notice, this photo has different dimensions as the previous three. Why? Because I didn't notice with the lights off, that the way A was sitting in his jammies led to what we are calling the "Where's Wally"-gate (Aus. for Waldo) thanks to the flash.

The kids were writing thank-you notes to my parents, and I provided the photos. When I looked through the thumnails, I looked down and called out to A. "A! Come here and tell me if there's anything in this photo that isn't right." He did and started to laugh. Okay. What to do. Crop. I could see the buttons at the bottom and just Mark's legs. I hit the crop button and asked A to let me know when the photo became family-friendly. Maybe I should have shown Omo the same respect. Nah. I spared the lipstick, but he gets the tennis ball post.

Someone has dual citizenship

And look who surprised me.

That man who won't smile is Mat. He's Tamale's foster dad. Tamale still goes nuts when she sees him. I think he feeds her cotton candy (fairy floss) and liver treats when he sits for her. She. Loves. Him! Brooke won't like this photo, but we were laughing. No one looks good laughing. Doubt me?

Brooke and Mat gave me heaps of iconic Aussie foods. When I moved to Australia, we lived in Kensington, Victoria. Our house was less than one kilometer from the Four 'n' Twenty meat pie company. Some days you could smell the "meat". Yes, I am using quotation marks for a reason.

I thought the ceremony was going to be boring and spared people. It wasn't. It was short and very entertaining. I'm sorry that I didn't make a bigger fuss. More pictures to come. If you're on Facebook (tiiiiimmmeeee suckaaaggge), there'll be an album sooner than here. Stay tuned.

Oh, see the dress? Eight dollaridoos at Lifeline! I may be a citizen, but I still do what I can to avoid the sweatshops.

Whoops

I meant to post this here.

Can I foster gay memoirists?

He's not a greyhound, but he's leggy and skinny.

And he's my cousin, so I will make him an honorary greyhound. He's also a boy, so I'm sure he toots up a storm.

Apologies for not visiting lately. The dreaded strep put me behind in uni assignments, I had to -- dare I say it -- restructure priorities. Eeek.

But I'm free now. Don't get comfy, dogs. You'll be snapped up and exploited online very soon. Oh, yes. Be afraid.

The dogs win and the puppies play

I'm still on a break, but I got this link in an email. Be sure to watch the video.

The Night the Dogs Won

I am taking mini study breaks and scoping out some grey pups on a puppy cam. It's puppy p()rn. I have no shame. Look, I am at my computer.

He's not sitting on a greyhound. That's a UWD. We have one, too.

I saw another human, but it had tissue in hand. Hm. Do puppies poo in the US, too? Metinx.

 

Mom is camera shy, because she hasn't gone down to her pre-litter weight, and feels all yucky about it. She's a blondie like Wacky Guacamole. Blondes put more pressure on themselves. Silly things.

And this puppy seeks the comfort and protection of a man's bum. It's not a wise puppy yet.

Back to work. I set my watch and am only allowed to view them when I'm in my free-to-play time. I bet this post will remind the couple not to visit the dogs in anything leather and studded.

What does 'meme' mean?

I was bum sniffed by Brih-jhay (oh so fwahnsh for Bridget) and her 5 Crazy Greys. I'm getting settled into this 4 classes and 2.5 days of work thing. I wonder how moms do it, because I'm going nuts with just the Manboy and our own menagerie of mange.

I'm going to cheat, because I have an assignment due soon. Instead of taging others, I'd just love for you to pick a section and give me your own five or what not. Do more. Do them all. But if you put them in the comments, we can all see what nutters you are.

What was I doing 10 years ago? 1997. I was about to start my second year of teaching 4th grade maths in
Dallas. I think I was just breaking up with the ex. Could be 1998. Obviously it was a memorable break-up. I was most influenced by that first class of kids.

Five snacks i enjoy:
1. Kiwis with skin on.
2. Pretzel sticks. Mmmm salt. Nom nom nom nom.
3. PB&J sammies. J would be raspberry or abbiecots. Before long runs when I wasn’t gimpy and limpy, I’d load up on a sammy of PB, Nutella, and Mallowfluff. I could run for hours and never need refuelling.
4. Ice cream and homemade fudge sauce. Mmmmm nom nom nom nom.
5. Chewy Sweethearts. Nom nom nom nom ... chewy. Nom!

Five songs I know all the lyrics to:
I wanna be like you (Junglebook) is probably the only one I could sing without musical accompaniment. No, Fifty-Nifty (state song) I could do without help. With help, I could sing Proper Cup of Coffee by Trout Fishing in America, Our House (Madness), and too many Adam Ant (and Adam and the Ant) songs. Haircut 100’s hits (aaaaaaall two!). Too many from the 80s. Sigh.

Five things I would do if you were a millionaire:
First I think you have to define 'millionaire'. One million? Doesn't go far in Queensland. Multi? I'll just define what I'd do with one million dollars AFTER I buy a death laser.

Pay off the mortgage, fix up yard for dogs. Okay, I have no money left. Aaaaah Australia. Let's pretend I don't live in the most expensive country per capita and keep on spending.
Get a yurt far away from the city and add a few more dogs as fosters.
Build a chook house and raise chooks by yurt.
Get a composting toilet.

If I had more than a million, I could go beyond. Set up a fund and use the interest to be able to give here and there. Realistically, I know that it goes fast. Too fast.

Five bad habits? Just five?!? I’d have to include burping loudly, too. My hubby would say I toot too much, too, but he, too, toots too much. Procrastinating. Slumping. Not putting things away when I’m done. Interrupting (I get too excited).

Five things I like doing:
Reading, knitting, spinning (drop spindle), playing on the computer (Internet, Facebook, blogs but not games), playing with my critters (dogs, cats, manboy).

Five things I would never wear again:
Leg warmers, day-glo anything, anything gold/silver/bronze like belts or shoes, anything with big shoulder pads, yoke skirts.

Five favourite toys:
Stretch Armstrong, … I can’t remember any toys I liked a lot. I usually played with my critters. Used to play Hardy Boys & Nancy Drew with my dog. Also used to eat saltines in a tree in my black leotard and tights and white go go boots. Might need to add those to never wear again. Nah. I should bring that back.

Now, to study. I'll be a better blogger when I get settled. Right now I'm focusing on reading other people's blogs and not getting too behind.

Oh, and bad habits? Not mailing things. I have a few envelopes here and all I have to do is deliver them to the post office. I just don't. I'm lazy. Gyeong and Kirsty, I do have cards!

Okay, tell me your stuff!

Omo and Tamale's first B&B stay

We had the hairless kids last week. Nice to have warm bodies that don't add to the dust bunny ranch a casa CasHew. Tamale and Omo love it when the kids come. They pet, rub, play, and sometimes smell a bit whiffy. The cats aren't so sure about the kids for the same reason. Laissez faire is not yet in the kids' mindset.

We wanted to do something different this time. No sand island. These Victorian children will think Queensland has nothing else to offer them for nature. How about...

The Mary Valley?

Fine, but we've planned this last minute. I'm not going to dump the dogs on Brooke or Kirsty. The dogs would love to go to Camp Brooke or Camp Kirsty. They'd come back with dog hickeys, new smells and bad habits, and we'll just sink lower in their opinions. I couldn't do it to Brooke or Kirsty. Not again. They'll know (instead of just think) I'm a complete flake.

"I'm not going if the dogs can't go."

Me make 'um ultimatum!

Mark surfed the net for places to stay with the only search option being the Sunshine Coast Hinterland and "dog friendly".

I can tell you that "dog friendly" is not as it seems:
"Sure, bring the dogs, but they must stay outside or in your car."
"You can have dogs, but they have to stay in a shed."

Yeesh. What is "dog dastardly"? I can bring the dogs and keep them in the car? That would make me a PASSER BY! Greyhounds aren't really blessed in the Rubinesque genes. These are lean dogs. Lean means a percentage body fat that would send me into an orgasmic tizzy. Fat is the body's down ski jacket. Keep the Greybabies outside? In the car? In a shed? I'm traveling with my dogs, because I love them.

It was looking like I'd be home with the dogs. That's fine. A weekend of couches and scotch fingers. Partay!

Until Mark found Lagoon Pocket Bed and Breakfast. For $10 extra a night, the dogs stay with you. IN THE ROOM! Oh what a concept. Doubt me you do. Check out my photo of the dogs and kids setting up for a game of Perudo you will.

As you can see, the dogs settled in nicely. We packed up the pink doona and the fleecy blankets and that was all it took for Omo and Tamale to settle in.

Suzannah and James, the hosts, even offered towels for the dogs' paws. We brought those ourselves and didn't need extra, but how is that for dog friendly? It's even dog owner friendly.

Lagoon Pocket is just outside of Gympie (~7 km?). If you need to go to Gympie for food stuffs or an extra manpad for a dog with a leaky willy, it's a quick drive. If you want to think you're miles away from any town, Lagoon Pocket is zigzagged away enough that you feel well and truly away from it all.

What is there to do? Oh anything you want in the Mary Valley area. You can ride the Rattler, taste cheese, hike nature trails in State forests, and pack on the pounds at the various eateries. What if you want to stay close and just enjoy the B&B?

By all means do!

Guest accommodation is one of three rooms, each with its own veranda. James and Suzannah do not run a cheesy B&B. The towels are plush, the beds comfy, the sheets perfect, and the brekky wonderful! Where to start?

There are 5 cows on the property (I think to the left is Cream). These big, sloppy dogs (Tamale's opinion, not mine) take up one paddock leaving the rest for canine exploration. Keep in mind that the fences are for cows, not dogs. They are not escape proof if you're not watching the hounds. After walking the perimeter with Tamale and Omo, I felt comfortable letting them off their lead. With 2 adults and 2 kids, we had the gaps covered. Tamale looked at a few gaps and tried her best commando maneuver, but a quick "NO!" was all it took. Like I said, you know your own dog. The roads were pretty much free of hoons and bogans, so the furkids also enjoyed walks along the street under the stars. If you want the greyhound to get some exercise, it'll happen. Don't you worry about it.

Tamale is a hyper doofus in the mornings when it's cool. I planned on keeping her on the lead. After the novelty of the cool country air wore off (does it ever?), I thought to let her off leash in the larger paddocks. The very ones she sniffed and marked all the night before. What could go wrong?  I was heading out to the paddock when she decided that the crowded L-shaped garden area was the ideal place to run around. By crowded, I mean in terms of a running track. It had chairs set up for a nice snack in the garden. There were posts for the passion fruit vines. Not at all crowded if one is meandering. Crowded if one has decided one's life depends on the sprint of the century.

We were almost at the fence to the paddock. Just couldn't take it anymore. MUST. RUN. LIKE. FOOL! All was fine until she went THROUGH the wire for the passion fruit. This area was cruised several times by the dogs. The wire is not thin. I could see it across the garden. Tamale ran through it and nothing happened. Having grown up on cartoons, I expected her to fall into slices. Nope. I think she ran through the gap between the wires knowingly. They barely jiggled. My heart? More than jiggled. Infarcted. Honestly, I have more treacherous items in my back yard if she were to break into a sprint. No yard is perfectly safe. Next time I'd just get her all the way into the paddock before I take her off her lead. This was my first time travelling with the furkids. I have my own lessons to learn.

I think Suzannah worked in a vet clinic in the UK (don't quote me on that) and is very dog savvy. If you're worried about a bump or bruise, she's there to offer you her expertise. Bad segue. Tamale did NOT need Suzannah's attention.

James has his own area of expertise: BREKKY! No cheap brekky here. We had eggs, sausage, bacon, tomato AFTER getting started with a sweet pineapple quarter. Want cereal? Got that, too.

We're going back. My mom is coming and I'm booking us in for November. Tamale gave it 5 Crotch Sniffs, but Omo only gave it 4.5 because the front of the guest house had gravel and his delicate pads couldn't take it. I don't think that should count, but he's been watching the Movie Show and thinks it is more credible to not give anything a perfect rating. Whatever. Teens!

If you want to travel with your dog and stay where a dog is truly welcome, then Lagoon Pocket will be perfect for you.

I'd go on forever, but Tamale has dropped a sulfur bomb. My life depends on my leaving the room NOW!

I'll leave you with a photo of Tamale doing what she does best when off leash.

Fun with technology

There's this:

and then there's this: Please excuse the lame editing. I was having more fun and doing this all for ME and not really concerned about the audience. I guess that means I have a lot in common with that guy who made Water World. The green feather thing was a present to the cats from my nieces and nephews in the U.S. I am so grateful to them for their thoughtfulness and feel guilty that Omo made it so slobbery and slimey that Peppa would no longer play with it. It was fun while it lasted. It couldn't even be a dog toy. Omo wanted to eat it. I do not want green feathers in his poop!

**intermission**

I don't have time right now to post about Omo or Donny OZmond, but I did find this clip from YouTube. It's a perfect example of how deep these guys can sleep. Blaze is one dead-to-the-world dog in classic cockroach position. To be that exposed and that relaxed, you know that Blaze is in a wonderful "forever home." Blaze!