Don’t cry for me Argentina, the truth is
I’m house sitting out in the closest thing Anchorage has to a suburb. It’s not actually a suburb, but it is a small town situated in a valley about fifteen miles from here. People who can’t deal with Anchorage’s crowded-ness (and you’d have to know Anchorage to know why that’s funny) go out there. And people who think the pseudo-suburb is too crowded go out to The Valley (all caps, and not at all the same thing as this valley, which is a little valley of the sort you get when mountains rise up on either side of a stream).
Speaking of mountains rising up on either side of a stream, this house has an unobstructed view of said stream, and there aren’t any houses on the opposite side of the valley. It’s rough spending all day looking out at trees and streams and bunnies and birds. And now you know why my internet time is limited: I can hang out at that house, and enjoy the isolation and, you know, general lack of neighbors six feet away, or I can come into town where I do have internet but my “view” is also my neighbor’s siding.
Yeah. Not so much.
Another benefit of this house? The dog likes long walks every day. I’m reasonably fit, I suppose, for me, but let me tell you: walking a dog up and down 45 degree slopes all day? Sheesh. You people paying gym memberships to do the stair stepper really need to cut that out and buy a mountain. There’s no way your electronic equipment can compare to the burn you get from sliding up and down a gravel hill.
Fortunately for me, the house also has a jacuzzi tub to die for. I admit it: I’m currently cheating on the dictionary with this tub. It’s big enough to swim in, practically. And deep. And has water jets. And a hot water supply that’s 1) hot and 2) can fill up the whole tub. I take everything back I ever said about marrying the first man who will buy me a boat: I want a jacuzzi tub.
The house even comes complete with a cat, and she’s very sweet. Unfortunately, she’s also a real cat, unlike Pookie. Pookie, as you know, refuses to have anything to do with this “hunting” thing, and if an insect happens to come in the house she’ll come get me so we can huddle together on top of the book case until someone rescues us. Anything bigger than an insect? Pookie would die of fright. This cat, however, hunts. And likes to show off her hunting skills by leaving me shrews in the living room. Isn’t she sweet? At least she’s neat about it and the problem is nothing a broom and dustpan can’t solve.
Anyway. So now you know where I am. I just don’t want you to think I’m somehow suffering from internet deprivation. I mean, I am, but I have a jacuzzi tub and a mountain view to console me. I think I’ll be all right for the next couple of weeks, you know?
Something to keep you from missing me while I’m gone
I generally leave the bathroom door cracked while I’m taking a bath, because if I don’t, Tweedledumb spends the entire time yowling outside the door.
Usually, he just sleeps on the bathmat. Whatever.
Tonight? He jumped up on the tub, looked at me, and attempted to climb on my stomach.
Did he not see the water in the tub? Did he think I really wanted a cat crawling around on my nekkid stomach?
Yowling or no, if he’s going to keep trying to join me in the tub I’m going to start shutting the door.
And on that note, I won’t be posting much for the next two or three weeks on account of having other things to do with what little computer time I’ll have.
I just figured it would be easier for some of you (*cough* Mayhem *cough*) to deal with withdrawal (heh. How I flatter myself) if I made the last post a dreaded cat post.
C’mon now. You aren’t really going to miss the cat posts. We both know that. Maybe when I come back I’ll have something intelligent to say.
Miracles can happen. The movies tell me so, and I believe everything I see on TV.
Typical Dressage Test
A enter working trot, haunches left.
X transition to a walk, take six steps, halt, back up three steps, halt parked out behind.
Proceed working trot, haunches right.
C spook left.
E oval left, 18.8 meters by 22 meters.
Between K and A pick up the counter canter, trot, and pick up the correct lead.
F break to the trot.
Between F and B gallop.
B drunken oval, 14 x 28 meters, gradually collecting the gallop.
Between B and M spook left, halt, back 12 steps, proceed in walk-jog.
H - general vicinity of X - F jig, jag, and jog on a long rein. Show a marked difference in stride, including four jog steps, six jigs, an extended walk, a collected walk, and a Western Pleasure peanut-rolling amble through the country side.
F bolt.
A zigzag down centerline.
C halt with horse’s nose in judge’s lap.
Interesting
On the cover of a magazine: “100 back-to-school decorating tips for your home or restaurant.”
Oh, goody! And I was just wondering what I was going to do to update the looks in all those restaurants I have hanging around, now that it’s fall and all! Weren’t you?
Snort.
Seriously: I had no idea that the home- and restaurant- decorating markets overlapped to such an extent, much less that there was such a thing as “back to school” decor (unless you count the dross of platic wrappings and size tags that get torn off school supplies and left on the floor).
I have nothing to say.
Just thought I’d let you know.