Global Warming - Yeah, Right

This is the view from the front door today.



It's a good day to stay inside and get some work done. Or battle cabin fever by working on a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle.



The real subject of this post, though, is my grandog. Our daughter was here with her puppy over Christmas break, and again last weekend. That little critter has more personality than any dog I've ever known. You can't look at her without smiling. Her name is Lucy, but she is also called Lucille and, occasionally, Lucifer.

She has several things that sort of define her personality. She's a thief, she's a jumper, and she's a runner. You don't want to leave anything, especially a sock, lying around on the floor, because she will steal it and run like the wind away from you. She's very sneaky about it. If she happens upon a pile of laundry, she'll look at you sideways, nonchalantly pick up a sock, turn around and walk a few steps, then streak out like lightning. She takes great sport in knowing that she will be pursued.

She jumps like a cat. She can scale things you would never believe her short little legs could get her onto. And when she wants down, she doesn't really jump or slide, she launches herself out into the air, reminiscent of the final scene in Thelma and Louise.

The running part isn't so fun. If she happens to get out without a leash, she will take off in any direction and you can't possibly catch her unless she stops because she runs at cheetah speed. Which almost stroked me out a few weeks ago when she got out and made a beeline across the street where our neighbors were backing both cars out of their driveway. I went chasing after her screaming at the top of my lungs and waving my arms. "LUCY! STOP!" I guess it was sufficiently maniacal that the neighbors heard it and both stopped, one of them inches from Lucy's body. When I came back in the house, I had to sit down because I couldn't feel my legs.

But one of the most striking things about her is that she bears a striking resemblance to this critter.





Which is why she's also sometimes referred to as Gizmo.

It's Not a Myth

Gee, you look away, have a wedding, a visit with your son and future daughter-in-law, do Christmas with them, then do the 'real' Christmas and New Year's, look back, and it's been three weeks since your last blog post.

So, there was this quaint little restaurant downtown that had soups, salads and sandwiches for lunch every day. They closed last October. Meantime, there is a small place at our regional airport, Woodring, that does okay, but not all that great. Here is the story of the new place.

I thought it was interesting. Jessica's friend from school was visiting for break, so we all went to have lunch. It was a madhouse. The place was packed. There was a long table, which was three square tables pushed together. There were two elderly women at the end, the three of us parked at the middle one, and there were three good ol' boys at the other end. The wait staff was frantic but trying to please everyone. Somehow, they managed to combine our ticket with the three guys at the next table. We all realized it (except the wait staff, which was understandable, given how busy they were). The guys kept making jokes about how we were going to pay for their lunch. We were having a good laugh about it.

But when it came time for the bill, they had to leave, and they took the entire check. They said "We're paying for ya'll," and they did. Which is good ol' boys being really sweet to women. But that's Oklahoma. So I guess there is such a thing as a free lunch.