no house calls

Readers may or may not remember the fundraising movie I attended last week. As described it was a mixture of truly awful horror films featuring evil cats and dogs, edited for maximum amusement. Some popular scenes included a mutant puppet - allegedly a radioactive cat - biting a fatal chunk out of George Kennedy's ankle.

My personal favorite was a demonic Alsatian puppy who eventually convinced his owners to worship him. See below.

But even though I spent the evening seated next to a nice doctor who is attractive in a nerdy way, I never cottoned on that he had chosen the seat next to me on purpose. That is, until the movie was over. Since it was well after midnight and I had to go to work in the morning, I hastily said my goodbyes and headed for my car. It was then that I realized that he was following me.

Did I mention that the nice nerdy doctor is also my doctor friend's ex-husband?

Although he didn't mention it, the current rumor is that Nerdy Doctor's current relationship with the Other Woman (the woman he allegedly left my friend for, although I think there's more to it) isn't working out. So perhaps the rumor is true. I didn't ask him.

Besides being inept at recognizing a pass, another reason I didn't engage Nerdy Doctor is that another, more established romantic situation has been occupying my thoughts during the past week.

Even though I'm unsure why the climate changed, I chose to avoid any attempt at armchair analysis. Instead I responded to the situation by relying on my intuition. And my intuition is telling me to treat him with compassion and empathy; to let him breathe.

You see, his happiness is what is most important to me. But I am still finding the situation difficult to write about.

(Reading this over, I realize it may be a tad convoluted. If it is, apologies. But I'm still stopping for now.)

an end to canine land mines in New Hampshire

I think we're all in agreement that, if you have a pet, your house will never be 100% clean. In addition to hair on furniture, you have the canine footprint/barf problem and the feline hairball/barf problem.This is why I never go from bedroom to coffee maker barefoot early in the morning. And when I have company, I tend to worry about litter box smells (especially since I lost about 75% of my own sense of smell due to meningitis).

And occasionally your beloved cat or dog wil crap where they shouldn't, either because you forgot to take them out or because they're annoyed with you.  I had a beagle once who became enraged when I evicted him from the bedroom for one evening, replacing him with my first husband. Bright and early the next morning, the beagle snuck into my bedroom and took a tremendous dump on the carpet. Since he never slipped up before, I'm convinced this was a symbolic shit on my ill-treatment of him (in his opinion).

But I digress. I spotted this article in the New York Times and decided it was too funny not to share. I mean, would it kill anyone to pick up after a neighbor's dog now and then? Are we so terrified of our neighbors that we can't politely ask repeat offenders to shape up?

Tracing Unscooped Dog Waste Back to the Culprit

Canine DNA is now being used to identify the culprits who fail to clean up after their pets, an offense that Deborah Violette, for one, is committed to eradicating at the apartment complex she manages.

Everyone who owns a dog in her complex, Timberwood Commons in Lebanon, N.H., must submit a sample of its DNA.

The swab is sent to BioPet Vet Lab, a company that enters it into a worldwide database. If Ms. Violette finds an unscooped pile, she can take a sample, mail it to Knoxville and use a DNA match to identify the offending owner.

Called PooPrints, the system costs $29.99 for the swabbing kit, $10 for a vial to hold the samples and $50 to analyze them, which usually takes a week or two. The company says that about two dozen apartment complexes around the country have signed up for the service.

“It’s kind of like the F.B.I., but on a much smaller scale,” said Eric Mayer, director of franchise development for BioPet Vet Lab, which makes the kits.

bad timing

After eating a rather large slice of cinnamon cream cake from Corner Bakery, I returned to my desk and spotted a new e-mail.  

It was UPS informing me that the lingerie I ordered last week - some Cosabella pink separates with brown lace trim - had just been shipped.

I think this is what they call working at cross purposes.  

Note: Those who indulge in some Corner Bakery cinnamon cream cake should never look at the caloric content. 

just add me to the compost heap, okay?

Being a claustrophobic type, I have never liked the idea of a traditional graveyard burial. Besides not liking the thought of being enclosed in a box, dead or alive, I don't like the prospect of gradual decay. And caskets can cost an awful lot of money. I wouldn't feel right sticking a relative with a four-figure bill for a pricey box when a cheap one would do. Crematoriums even allow cardboard boxes for cheapskate tree-huggers.

However, after reading a history of the early Vikings, I was intrigued by their ship burials. Although I should point out that on a personal level they aren't any more attractive to me than a graveyard. I'm afraid those burials at sea didn't happen nearly as often as most of us think.

The most famous example of an exhumed ship burial, The Oseberg ship, suggests that back when they were still heathens, they were much more creative with how they packed up their ancestors. 

Ship burials had some similarities to Egyptian tombs, but there are some major differences as well. For example, the Oseberg ship contained more than the usual collection of stuff you might need in the next life - household goods, pots, pans, even a wooden cart. (If you didn't get buried with household items, it could cause you to be homeless in the next life - it didn't mean you actually liked cooking.) It also contained the remains of two women instead of just one. And the skeletons were of vastly different ages. Some historians guess that the cheaply dressed, younger woman might have been interred against her will so the important, older woman would have a maid in the afterlife. 

The Yuk Factor really kicked in when I read about the final additions to the burial ship - 14 horses, three dogs and an oxen. These animals weren't simply slaughtered and added to the grave goods; they were literally diced up before being added to the mix.

Since the weather would have had to be above freezing in order to dig the grave, one can only think that the whole area got pretty damn putrid before they covered it all up. I hope clothespins had been invented by then.

tired brain x 2

Looking at today's calendar, it appears I have two more lengthy and boring conference calls today. Damn.