In which we have doodles in the snow

Last weekend saw a major snowfall for us--about 7 1/2 inches, which I realize is laughable to some of you, but it's a big deal for us. They haven't even cleared the parking places at Trader Joe's yet, THAT is how big a deal it is. Anyway, the we took the doodles out for a "winter funtime extravaganza" and this is the result--a shot of the pair of them looking furtive and a close-up of Deacon that ought to be captioned, "Oh, hai. I can has snow?"

Today is also the birthday of my very favorite woman in the world, my mother. The fact that I adore her is reason enough to mention her birthday here, but all of you have seen her work--she proofreads my manuscripts before they go out the door! Happy birthday, Mama!

In which the evil lurks within the heart of a goldendoodle AGAIN

Exhibit A: the suspect, who will be pleading Not Guilty.

Exhibit B: the carnage.

BAD DOG.

In which I muse on puppies

Exhausting--end of musing. I had forgotten HOW exhausting. The little miscreants have actually been pretty good about destruction, just the odd basket here and there that's been gnawed and, of course, my favorite table. It's our kitchen table and I bought it at an antiques store on Hildebrand in San Antonio. The ONE piece of furniture I would really prefer them not to put a tooth on. Anyway, it's nothing a little sanding and paint won't fix, and it doesn't bother me nearly as much as if they had gotten hold of my shoes. Emma the Yellow Wonder Dog NEVER touched shoes or clothes or books--in fact, her only destructive behavior was a section of drywall that she thought was rather tasty. It sounds bad to say your dog ate the wall, doesn't it?

But a bit of jalapeno juice changed her mind--on the advice of the vet, of course. Jalapeno juice doesn't FAZE these pups. They like it--in fact, I caught them licking off tabasco sauce and looking up expectantly for more, wagging their tails. We tried everything the vet suggested to no avail; I think they eventually got tired of chewing and have moved on to general stroppiness. Their favorite game is to pounce on each other and wrestle to the death, but we've had to put a stop to it because they were spayed and neutered last week. (Yes, while I was in DC because my husband said, "Hey, I'll be home anyway. Book the surgery and I'll take care of it." A lovely and masochistic offer that I think he deeply regretted.) Anyway, we've had to keep them separated so they won't inadvertently tear out each other's stitches, and it's KILLING them. We put them together for short periods when they're leashed, but they are desperate to play. The only safe place to let them hang out is the car. For reasons that defy explanation, they are always perfectly calm and loving to each other in the car--no barking, no pouncing, no whining. They will curl up together and groom one another and it gives us hope that ONE DAY they will be able to hang out just as nicely in the house. Maybe.

Also, I've been tinkering STILL with comments and I *think* they're fixed now...

In which I muse on things custom-made

I was pondering recently how impoverished our modern lives are compared to people in centuries past--specifically Victorians. (Occupational hazard, you might say.) Anyway, it occurred to me that much of what they considered commonplace, we would find luxurious: leather books, beeswax candles, servants, feather beds, bespoke clothing, and handmade shoes. Odd, isn't it, that perhaps even the rising merchant class could have afforded all those things which we now think of as indulgent? They would have scoffed at our cheap candles which burn poorly, our paperback books, our ill-fitting clothes off the rack. (We won't even discuss how galled the most modest of housekeepers would have been not to have a maid-of-all-work.) What a tremendous delight it is to us to have something made FOR us, crafted by someone who takes time and care with their materials and their technique to fashion something lasting and serviceable and beautiful.

The trouble is, where to FIND such things. Growing up in San Antonio, I occasionally had my shoes resoled by proper cobblers, gentlemen from Mexico who had grown up in the leather trade and could rebuild a shoe stitch by stitch. It was an ART and not a cheap one. I remember a pair of much-loved sandals whose soles I wore out. I could not bear to part with them, and my mother surprised me by taking them to one of these masters to be completely remade. He cut new soles and painstakingly stitched them into place, and when he finished, they were more beautiful than they had been new. (More expensive too, but things that are handmade and have someone's effort put into them DESERVE to be more costly.) Here, I have only a tired shoe repair shop where the proprietor lacks the skill to do anything more complicated than nail a tap to the sole. Three times I have taken him shoes that needed a new strap or a bit of stitching or a replacement button, and all three times he has passed the shoes back to me with a shrug and the excuse, "I don't know how to fix that." (Don't get me started on the death of the skilled professions and the state of our throwaway society. It makes me want to lie down with a cool cloth and rub some lavender on my temples.)

Anyway, the point I'm belaboring is that when we can, we ought to think about supporting those folks who are making the time and taking the effort to create things that will last, things that make our everyday activities a bit less mundane by giving us lovely tools. And of course, one of the best places to find such things is etsy, the marketplace for all things handmade. There are some truly gorgeous things there, and although my transactions have been few, there is something remarkably wonderful about connecting with the person who is actually handcrafting an item that will live in your home.

The pups are allowed out of their confinement as of Friday--rabies shot day!--so we can finally take them in public. In honor of the occasion, I have ordered collars from the etsy shop of The Mod Dog. (And let me just say, I was spoiled for choice. The proprietress, Kyra, uses the most fabulous ribbons to adorn her collars--many of them imported, all of them interesting.) She has been gracious and quick in her communications, and I have found that to be the case with the other sellers I have done business with as well. I cannot WAIT to see the dogs in their custom-made collars, and they will be even more delicious for being half the price I would have paid at a local dog boutique for similar but lesser collars. The moral? Go etsy, good people.

In which I need some help from the blogosphere

So the puppies are wonderful--really. Twenty pounds of warm, fabulous, fuzzy love. HOWEVER. The one behavior that we're having a bit of trouble redirecting is the occasional gnawing of furniture. Mercifully, most of what they nibble is supposed to look a bit battered (thank God for shabby chic!), but there are a few spots that they seem particularly smitten with. Tabasco was suggested to us, and I applied it LIBERALLY only to watch the dogs lick it off and sit back wagging their tails and waiting for the rest of the Bloody Mary, I presume. Anyway, the Tabasco was a complete joke and the bitter apple spray from the pet store has had only moderate success. Any tried and tested remedies?

In which love is like a warm puppy

I promise not to go too mad with the puppy pictures, but occasionally, a dose of something warm and fuzzy is just good for you.

In which you can almost smell the puppy breath

Chickens, this entry is just too cute, with plump puppy goodness baked right in. The chubby fellow on the right is Deacon, and the dainty little sweetheart on the left is his littermate, Sophie. (Sophie belongs to my parents but we plan to abscond with her on a regular basis.) Losing Emma the Yellow Wonder Dog was so difficult--not just because we missed her, but because having a dog makes us feel more of a family. So now we have double the doggie sweetness. Because of some fairly extensive allergy issues with Emma, we decided to go with a goldendoodle this time, half poodle, half golden retriever. We're hoping this will mean a lot less Claritin in the house...Sophie is very composed and poised, curious, and feminine while Deacon is the Matthew McConaughey of puppies--loves the sun, sleeps a lot, and always looks like he's blissing. We plan on buying him a teeny set of bongos.

Since puppies take up loads of time--and since I have to leave for BookExpo in a week and a half--posting for the rest of May will be a mixture of new entries and reposts from the old Blog A Go-Go, which is still getting so many hits I can't take it down yet! Glad folks are still poking around over there, and if you have a particular entry you'd like to see posted here so it doesn't get lost when I close the Blog A Go-Go, just holler. Have a gorgeous weekend!