Crazy Dream #11........

Night before last, I had one of those crazy dreams that make me wonder, "How in the world can my brain make that stuff UP?"

I dreamed I went to visit Sweet Girl in Florida. Only we took a little side trip, a weekend jaunt to ....... France. Because clearly a trans-Atlantic voyage is a good thing to do over a weekend.

We were riding this little tram thingie, and it pulled into a station along the border. The border of WHAT I'm not sure, but we had to wait there for a while. In the tram station (because it wasn't a TRAIN, it was a TRAM), there was a gift shop. And it had a swimming pool.

We went for a swim in the pool, and there was a chair floating in the pool. It was a chair sort of like this one:

But the cushion was one of those loose ones. When I jumped in the pool, the cushion flew out of the chair, into the window of the gift shop, where it proceeded to do a great deal of damage.

This was no ordinary souvenir shop. It had a lot of expensive, high-end knick-knacks, but its specialty was .....

That's right, crystal door knobs. A whole store full of them.

Don't laugh. Have you DONE a Google search for images of crystal door knobs lately? Go ahead.... I'll wait here.

Naturally I proceeded to fill up a basket with a lot of souvenirs (oddly enough, I wasn't wet from my little swim), but mostly a nice selection of crystal door knobs. But I couldn't get any of the hoity-toity cashiers to wait on me. They were all painfully thin, wore black slacks, and had major attitudes. But they spoke perfect English. Probably Southern English, but that detail escapes my memory.

I was about to go into a snit and put all the doorknobs and other knick-knacks back on the shelves, when FINALLY one of the snooty girls deigned to wait on me. She rang up all my purchases, but before she gave me the total, she said, "Now about the chair cushion.... What happened?"

I proceeded to tell her the story about the cushion flying through the window, and she nodded sympathetically, but she said, "Well, come on in the office and see if you can contact someone at your insurance agency."

I tried to explain to her that it was 8:00 PM on a Sunday night back in the States, and there was no way I could get anyone from the insurance company on the phone. It was too late to deny any responsibility for the flying swimming pool cushion, so I was at a loss as to what to do. Did anyone else catch on to the fact that if it was mid-afternoon in France, it was more likely 8:00 AM in the States? I'm backward even in my dreams.

And then I woke up. I don't know if they arrested me for the damage to the store (none of which was visible as I shopped for doorknobs), or more importantly, how much all the doorknobs cost.

You may now return to your lives filled with normalcy. None lurking here.

#35 - Go to a UGA Baseball Game......

I would have bet my next paycheck that tonight's item for the 50 Things to Do list would NOT happen. It rained here today ... all day ... buckets and buckets and buckets and buckets of rain. I called the stadium to make sure the game was still on for tonight, and I was almost disappointed that it was. It's just a tad cold, and I could easily have piled up in the recliner and played Mario. I had planned a completely different blog topic for tonight, and I almost went ahead and wrote it at school today because I was just that sure that the game tonight wouldn't happen.

The 50 Things to Do police might question whether tonight even counts for my list. It was a UGA baseball game against Alabama, but it doesn't count as a conference game, and it wasn't played at the UGA field. That was one of the reasons we went to this particular game - it was played at Coolray Field, home of the Gwinnett Braves, the AAA farm club for Atlanta. The stadium is only three years old, and it is a beautiful field. It is actually closer for us to drive there than to go all the way to campus in the other direction. We still plan to go to a game at Foley Field, where UGA home games are played, but it will have to be warmer. And probably not on a school night.

Dawgs led 4-0 after the first inning and 6-0 after three. Then I jinxed them by asking if there's a run rule in college ball, and Bama scored three quick runs. We left because it was either raining lightly or misting heavily, and it was still 6-3 when we got home. I'm listening to the last inning (I hope) on the computer even as I type this.

I think there were just as many Bama fans - if not more - than Dawg fans. What's up with THAT? I am pretty sure all the students weren't in their dorms studying, and it isn't THAT far to drive.

Here are a few pictures to document the fact that we were indeed there. Hello, chins! And you'll just have to wait until tomorrow night to read about another one of my bizarre dreams.

Dear Mom......

Dear Mom:

You might wonder how I'm typing this message on YOUR blog, since I don't have opposable thumbs and all. Ever since you taught me to dance for cheese, though, I've been learning other tricks while you weren't looking. I figure there's a filet mignon in there somewhere, if I can just find the right trick.

This blog post isn't about tricks, though. It's about disappointment. Make that disappointmentS. Plural.

Almost every day you and Dad get me all excited about going to the park. You make this huge production about changing into your tennis shoes, while I stand there with one of my front paws in the air, wondering if this is one of those times I'll get to go. You deliberately drag out your motions, taking your own sweet time, finally wandering downstairs in the direction of the shelf where you keep my leash.

I see you reach for it, and I almost can't contain my excitement, wondering where this adventure will take us. Will I get to meet some new playmates? Will there be cheese? Filet mignon? A cat I can chase?

Then, being the mistress of torture that you are, you make me SIT and BE STILL while you put my collar on. Do you realize just how difficult this is? I'm about to pee on myself, Libby is already barking her glee from the backyard, and I have to SIT? and BE STILL?

Finally, after a drive of almost a mile and half, we get to the park. Oh, the beautiful lake. How I love to swim in it. I chase Libby down the path, looking for whatever fun we came for.

And all we do is walk. And walk. And walk. Sometimes I use my superior directional capabilities and try to lead you back to the car, sure you and Dad have made a mistake in this little outing. But no, you continue to walk AWAY from the car, and I have no choice but to go along, because you two are sure to get lost on your own.

And we walk.

And walk.

And walk.

By the time you FINALLY make your pitiful way back to our vehicle, my little legs are just about worn out, my tongue is lolling, and all I want is a sip of Dad's beer. Add that to my growing list of disappointments.

Then there's the basement. When you head toward the basement door, I get so excited that I lose traction on the hardwood floors (add THOSE to the list too, by the way) and my feet slip out from under me, which apparently is a source of great entertainment for you and dad. I get all worked up because I think maybe, just maybe, you're headed to open that great big door, the one that makes all the noise, and I can grab the rope and hang on for dear life while you take me on a mini-roller coaster ride up in the air.

But no.

More often than not, you're going to put clothes in the washer. Or the dryer. Or take them out. Or search futilely for something that should be in the toolbox but isn't.

And now you have this machine down there. It doesn't do anything useful that I can determine. It makes no noise, it produces no food, and I can't even lie down in your lap while you're on it.

I should have known that all that cheese would come with a big old long string attached.

It's tough being a dog.

Love,

Gus

My New Torture Machine......

My new elliptical arrived today. I have yet to do more than 22 seconds on it, but it appears to work beautifully. The old one developed a grinding noise that grew progressively worse, and then when we moved it to take it to be repaired (we thought), we found a pile of very fine rubber shavings underneath it. We talked to a couple of salespeople who told us what we had was basically crap, and it would be less expensive to buy a new one than to repair the old one. Nice sales pitch.

Whatever.

Anyway, the new machine arrived today, and Hubby insisted we put it in the basement. Apparently he doesn't like the way it looks to have an elliptical machine in the living room. All manner of other CRAP can sit in the living room, but not the elliptical. Whatever. So there goes watching television while I work out.

That's not a huge problem, because I can watch movies on my iPad or my portable DVD player. I just have to watch SOMETHING while I'm on it, though, because otherwise those minutes tick..... off..... very..... slowly.........

Before my old elliptical bit the dust, I had developed an excellent routine of getting on the thing EVERY SINGLE MORNING and working out for 30 minutes. I'm going to try to get back into that routine, and then Hubby and I will continue to walk some afternoons.

I want to ride my bike home from school a couple of days a week too, and I plan to continue going to zumba class, at least on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

That could make Tuesday and Thursday pretty crazy, though. I could potentially work out on the elliptical for 30 minutes, ride my bike home from school (because those are Hubby's two golf days when he plays early, so it's convenient for him to drop me at school), then go to zumba at 6:30.Three different forms of exercise on those two days of the week alone.

Combine that with the weekend bicycle rides that will start in just a few weeks, plus the occasional weekend 5K runs that I would like to do.

Why don't I look like Twiggy?

Some Observations from Last Week......

Here are just a few observations from last week. Not to be confused with musings or random thoughts.

• If it pours down rain on a Friday and half the school population chooses not to come to school, it will NOT be the half you WISH would stay home. (I know I've said it before right here on this blog, but it has been proven yet again.)
• If they ask you which arm is better for them to take blood out of, you have a 50% chance of getting it right. Why can't you?
• If the perky little college student conducting a tour apologizes for the country music playing in the workout room, it's probably futile to explain to her who Fleetwood Mac is.
• If you have Hubby drop you and your bicycle off at school with the idea of riding the bike home, it's a good idea to pack cycling PANTS along with the jersey and sports bra and sandals.
• If a college gymnast (NOT one of ours) falls on the first tumbling pass of her floor routine and has to be carried off the floor, they will reward her with a score of .05. Come on, people, that's just WRONG. A zero would be better than a .05.
• If your foot hurts to walk on it, odds are it isn't going to feel any better for you to RUN on it.
• If you drive two hours to see your great-nephew and take your camera in with you, it would make a lot more sense if you actually TOOK some pictures.
• If you only make sugar-free pudding so you can put Cool-Whip on top of it, why don't you just eat Cool-Whip by itself?
• If you use a fool-proof automatic bread machine, you can still have an abysmal bread failure.
• An abysmal bread failure is still okay if you dip it in olive oil and spices and wash it down with a glass of wine.

Summer Camp for Grown-Ups.......

I would like to propose a summer camp for grown-ups. I don't want to RUN it, I want to GO to it. I want it to have some of the same features of the summer camp I went to as a child, but I'd like to see some improvements also.

Three meals a day, cooked by someone else, with the resulting clean-up also done by someone else.

Someone else to come in and clean the cabins.

Several bars strategically placed throughout the camp.

Air conditioning in the cabins.

Private bathrooms.

Hammocks strung between shade trees.

A huge pool for swimming, and a pool with a current that would run around the perimeter of the whole camp, so campers could just float.

A hot tub. Preferably near one of the bars.

Soothing music.

Massages upon request, no appointment needed, as many times a day as you want.

A section of beach with chaise lounges just for reading.

An arts and crafts center, where I MIGHT learn to knit.

Individual Nintendo Wii centers for each individual camper. Never mind about waiting my turn.

Nintendo Wii coaches to get us through the tough levels.

Poker tables with a never-ending supply of chips. That we could cash in for real money at the end of the week.

Personal hairdressers, make-up artists, manicurists/pedicurists, and wardrobe experts.

No bugs or snakes or sunburn.

King-sized beds in the cabins.

Maybe with the right sponsors we can get this idea to catch on.

Friday Night Blog Fog......

Sometimes during the day at school, when I have a few moments of down time, I go ahead and plan my blog post in my head for that night. Sometimes I even write it while I'm still at school and schedule it to post that evening. Shhhhhhh........

I typically have more than my fair share of down time on Fridays, since some of our students apparently think we are on a four-day schedule and they just don't show up on Fridays. Some of these are the very same ones who will beg for extra time to work at the end of the semester. Remind me to post a picture of my "you've got to be KIDDING me" face.

Tonight, though, I got nothing.

No words of wisdom, no witty exchanges with students, no humorous text messages, no emails from co-workers.

On the other hand, I don't have anything to complain about, any physical ailments, anyone to be angry at, impending deadlines, or major frustrations.

So I guess it must have been a pretty good week.