Put a dog on the square and I'm there

Continuing with what may be a partial canine takeover of this blog:

One of the things I love to do is wander around looking for dogs.

Correction: I don't always wander around but when I do, I enjoy coming across dogs.

For cheap entertainment I attest that it cannot be beat.

Invariably when I do meet a pooch, I will stop and ask the owner if I may take the pet's picture.

I've never been refused.

Why I don't tell them of my websites and put the pictures up so maybe the owners will buy them, I'll never know.

Perhaps I should add that to my To Do list which is already approximately seventy-eight miles long.

At any rate when Audrey and I were wandering in Knoxville's charming Market Square last Saturday, she spotted a busker with a canine companion.

At first my daughter thought the dog was a Spaniel -- most likely because of its ears -- but something told her there was room for doubt.

Turns out he was is a Dachshund and Border Collie mix.

We learned that from his owner, the busker, a personable young fellow who appears to have gotten lost in a time warp while making a turn at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury circa 1968.

Be that as it may, the puppy's name is Pups. His provenance explains the curly ears, the long body, the stubby legs, and the piercing gaze.

Before happening upon Pups and his master, we visited Rococo Boutique where, If I'd wanted to, I could have bought myself a crown.

Or some beribboned, tarted-up Mason jars.

But I didn't and then we met Pups, and after making his acquaintance and his picture, we drifted into bliss.

Where via the window display, we were encouraged to drape ourselves in plumage -- scarves and jewels -- in order to attract mates.

After that pleasant experience, we met Jody.

Jody is a Blue Merle Australian Shepherd puppy, six months old. 

And she was very happy to be in Market Square on a mild Saturday in March.

Her adoring master rescued Jody from a bad situation. 

The visit to the square was Jody's maiden voyage into mainstream human and canine society with a kind and compassionate minder at the end of her leash.

She was visibly enthused.

And so am I, and I hope you are too.

That is all for now.

=0=0=0=

Happy Fridog ~ Happy Easter

=0=0=0=

Cursed be the amenities that blind

I guess I'm about to out myself as a most ungrateful traveler.

So be it.

But if Hilton Hotels -- in collusion with someone called Peter Thomas Roth -- is attempting to put the amen back into amenities, they need to face facts: 

Quasi-Epic Fail. And then! Unexpected Redemption.

What is she going on about now, you may be thinking.

Allow me to elaborate.

Naturally when you're unpacking your stuff in the hotel en suite bath, you notice the freebies that have been artfully arranged on a little tray near the sink.

Actually we'd been checked into our room for quite awhile before I spotted something in particular and was moved to investigate.

The three-by-one-inch box -- which weighed less than nothing -- read: Deluxe Grooming Kit.

What have we here, I mused. Air? With which to groom oneself?

I opened the box. Cellophane peeked out. I tugged. It crackled.

At that point I was obliged to fetch my cheaters because I could not actually make out what was encased in the clear wrapping.

The items were that small.

Oh.

Two cotton circles; two cotton swabs; one tiny tooth-flossing device; and an infinitesimal emery board.

In other words: A sho-nuff Deluxe Grooming Kit.

For a gerbil.

You could shine up his little coat with the two cotton circles, swab his tiny ears with the ersatz Q-tips, scrape his itsy-bitsy fangs with the flossing device, and file down his claws with the miniature emery board.

Only, I am gerbil-less. Javier would laugh me out of the room if I attempted to groom him with these things.

What I do have is a memory of when words still meant what they were meant to mean. As in, the word DELUXE.

When I was a kid, the word DELUXE tacked onto something meant bigger, better, more impressive.

Like, if you ordered a DELUXE hamburger? That bad boy was likely to be as big as your head. And have a heap of pickles on it.

That's because the word has a meaning, a definition: "particularly elegant and luxurious; sumptuous."

Sumptuous. Two Q-tips, two cotton circles, a piece of plastic and a scrap of sandpaper?

I think not. Hilton and Peter Thomas Roth need to get the shame out of their game.

As in, if you cannot be literate, at least be honest.

Deluxe Grooming Kit? Before you call it that, it had better contain some Chanel bath luxuries, Lancome skin care products, and Redken hair potions. For starters.

Then there was the Deluxe Shower Cap. The plastic gloves ladies at the school cafeteria wear to plop wilted salad on your plate are more substantial than this item.

I'll show you a DELUXE Shower Cap. Click here. Or here. Or here.

Those are deluxe shower caps. Let's say what we mean and mean what we say.

I don't care if the Hilton does not provide me with a deluxe shower cap. I can't sleep on that, or eat it, after all. But don't give me a piece of thin clear plastic edged with a scrap of elastic and call it a deluxe anything.

I am just saying.

Don't forget the Quick Fix Deluxe Mending Kit. More deluxe! How much deluxe can one woman be expected to stand?

Although the teensy scissors broke as I was extricating them from the deluxe packaging, I imagine if you were in a bind, the four colors of thread already attached to their own needles would be most appreciated. Two dress-shirt-type buttons are included, and two pins -- one straight, one safety.

Somebody thought of everything. Somebody who is obsessed with the word "deluxe."

I didn't need a mending kit however, and I ignored all of the other items provided for my toilette while I was comfortably ensconced at the Knoxville Hilton.

I had, after all, brought my own body wash, pouf, shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, hand lotion, et cetera. The kinds I'm used to.

But as we were checking out of our room to go home, I grabbed all the freebies and threw them into my overnight case.

Because, why not. Free is free, deluxe or faux-luxe.

So then as I was taking pictures of these things today -- strictly for your enjoyment, enlightenment, and entertainment -- I noticed how good these Peter Thomas Roth soaps smelled. 

Sort of a fresh, sweet, green-tea fragrance. Very nice.

My soul, thought I. I do believe I will test drive this here Moisture Infusion Facial Bar and this Massaging Bar For Bath.

Even though that last item reminds me of a Quija Board.

So in the shower, I washed my face with that bar of soap. And I love it. It is now in my soapbox.

And that massaging bar! The little nubs! Wonderful. Get you some. Only seventeen dollars for three bars.

Then I used the Mega-Rich Body Lotion -- there was that wonderful aroma again -- and even swished with the Non-Irritating Mouth Wash.

I am soft, I smell good, and now I want to go back to the Hilton and demand a whole second set because if only I'd swiped all the goodies the first day, they would've left me more the second day.

But I didn't. Having scoffed at the Deluxe Grooming Kit that wasn't any such thing, I became a Peter Thomas Roth snob.

And cut off my nose to spite my own face.

Today I went to the hairdressers and he washes and conditions my hair so I didn't get a chance to sample the PTR Mega-Rich Shampoo and Mega-Rich Conditioner.

Maybe I'll just stash them in my train case so next time I go out of town -- which I sincerely hope is not for, like, at least a year -- that will be two less things I have to think about.

But the housekeeper noticed I'd opened the Deluxe Grooming Kit and she left me a second one.

Erica has a friend with a pet gerbil, name of Spunky or Spanky or Sparky or something. The gerbil I mean. I know her friend's name but I have trouble with the gerbil's name.

He's getting that PTR DGK with my blessings. Give his little tongue a rest.

=0=0=0=

Happy Wednesday

=0=0=0=

Gifts bearing gifts

Children are gifts. And then they keep giving you gifts. 

It's pretty cool how that works. A self-fulfilling prophecy, as it were.

My four kids are very thoughtful of me. And I am grateful for them. Nothing new here.

But since Audrey was not with me on my actual birthday a few weeks ago, in addition to some nice things she and her sibs arranged for me to enjoy on the day, she had a gift to give me on her birthday.

Well, to be exact, on the day before her birthday. And it was more than one gift.

There was a box of peppermint tea together with keepy-glass jars of sour cherry jam and Vietnamese cinnamon. I like simple pleasures and Audrey knows it.

In addition there was a charming purple journal -- I love and collect journals -- with fleurs-de-lis on every page.

The adorable teapot was a birthday gift to me from my mother. I think it's time for a spot of tea and toast with sour cherry cooked-in-cauldron jam on top.

Maybe I'll write a poem in my journal while I sip and munch.

Audrey presented her gifts to me last Thursday when I arrived in Knoxville and had settled in at Andrew's apartment.

That was after she'd worked hard most of the week, had a less-than-awesome Thursday at the office, then rushed home, made spaghetti for all of us and brought the meal to Andrew's crib piping hot, ready for the table.

It took a lot of effort. And it was so delicious. A gift.

We were there to celebrate her and she served us. That's how she is.

I bought this wee gift for myself -- a creation of Primitives by Kathy in Lancaster, Pennsylvania -- at a shop in Market Square appropriately named bliss:

Meanwhile what did Andrew do? He gave up his bed for me on Thursday and slept on his couch. He even gave up Rambo, who lay beside me all through the night.

In addition to taking Audrey and me out to a luscious dinner on Friday evening when his own birthday was only a week away, my son filled my car with gas before I left to come back home yesterday.

Naturally he would not let me reimburse him. That's how he is.

Her father and I treated Audrey to two nights at the Hilton in downtown Knoxville, so that we girls could walk around and see the sights and eat a lot and relax a little and do some shopping and take some pictures, including the Official Birthday Portrait:

Our room had a stunning view of the Tennessee River and all of our comforts were seen to. 

I love staying in hotels so maybe it was a selfish treat but Audrey had a great time too. I promise.

For example she enjoyed breakfasts and snacks in the concierge lounge, and knocking around Knoxville which is having a chilly start to spring.

As always she posed patiently and proved once more that she embodies the concept of photogenic.

I think she's got such an interesting face.

Later she was obliged to spend some time on the phone as various friends and relatives began calling to wish her a happy birthday.

Let me be clear: I do not take credit either for the two marvelous children featured in this post or for their two sisters, who are equally wonderful.

They are gifts from the Lord.

And although their father is responsible for the majority of their good qualities, in my saner moments I like to believe each of them got something worthwhile from me too.

If you have children, tell me how great they are. Brag on them shamelessly like I do. I want to read about it.

=0=0=0=

Happy Monday ~ Happy Week

=0=0=0= 

Felicitations on the anniversary of your birth, Audrey

Oh hai. I am Jenny's granddog.

She brought me this shamrock scarf and made me pose this morning even before I'd been given an opportunity to go outside and check my messages.

Hence the doleful expression suffusing my soulful visage.

Andrew has gone on a coffee run and Mamaw is thinking about putting on her makeup.

She and Audrey have an appointment at Mimi's Cafe for the first of two birthday parties planned for today.

For dinner  this evening Andrew is squiring the ladies to dinner at Lakeside Tavern.

I did not merit an invitation to either bash. Javier got left out in the cold too.

Perhaps I will be offered at least a crumb of birthday cake. If so it's more than Javier will see. Never mind that we would both derive great pleasure from said experience.

So good Friday to you and here's hoping your day involves more celebrating than mine is likely to contain.

Signing off, I am Rambo.

=0=0=0=

Happy Fridog ~ Happy Weekend

=0=0=0=

And now a word from our local Chihuahua

O hai.

My mom sed 4 me 2 tell u she's busy gettin' ready 2 go 2 Knox-someplace 4 Audrey's birthday an' that's why she does not have time 2 write anything 4 u.

I think she's gonna leave me here with Dad an' I hope he mixes my kibble with hot water an' lets it get all soft the same way Mom does.

I don't gots many teef left.

Also keep my space heater set on HI cuz it's gettin' cold again.

That is all 4 now.

=0=0=0=

I've-Been-Happier Wednesdog

=0=0=0=