<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:14:48.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To say nothing of the dogs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>111</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6440784362575579460</id><published>2009-10-25T16:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T16:57:18.095-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More relatives and lots of music.</title><content type='html'>So what happened next, Carolyn?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny you should ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove through Indiana to General Butler State Park in Kentucky. Again, we arrived after dark. This was not the plan. No one who drives an RV will say this is a good idea. It happens pretty much every time for us. I'm practiced at calling RV parks and saying, "We'll be arriving late . . . is that okay?" They're all really nice about it. But no one comes in after us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before we got to the park, we went to Erin's house. Erin is Ross's niece. Her husband Robbie was in South Carolina -- but we got to visit with her, her cute kid Ethan, her sister Tara, along with Tara's cute kid Maddie, and their mom, Diana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between Erin's house and General Butler, we drove on the craziest, windiest road in Kentucky. We had split up again -- this time Jane Honda and I were following. Ross and I have radios, so we can communicate . . . I kept telling him I thought 25 mph was plenty fast. Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another adventure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met all the same relatives for dinner the next night -- plus Mike, Tara's husband. What a nice bunch of people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our next stop was James Powell's house -- Ross's brother-in-law. We stayed in Renfro Valley, Kentucky, that night. No more adventures. (But don't get complacent. Just sayin'.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to Ross's mom's house in the far northeast Tennesee. We didn't have reservations anywhere, because Butler, Tennessee, isn't near anything -- certainly not an RV park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plan was to park in her front yard. (Seems a little odd, doesn't it?  Yeah. Hold that thought.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We unhitched Jane at the bottom of her hill. I'm following Ross. (Feeling a sense of forboding yet? Hearing some horror movie music here?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He radioed me: "I see a stake in the neighbor's yard. But I'm going in." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stake was not a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wet ground however . . . was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my dismay, as I watched the back wheels spin in the mud, getting deeper in the mud. I didn't even see the left front tire sink up to the hubcap. Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news was that it took only 45 minutes for the guy to come and winch us out. And it was only about $150. Have I mentioned our personal connection to the economic stimulus program? We drive down the road throwing twenties out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AFter that, we parked on the street. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it was a pleasant few days in Butler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next came the musical portion of our trip. First Nashville and the Grand Ole Opry. Not as corny as it sounds. Even though we're not that into country music. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Memphis. We stayed at the Graceland RV Park, just behind the Heartbreak Hotel. Seriously. The Jungle Room isn't as tacky as it sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited Beale Street to listen to blues music. That was definitely as fun as it sounds. I could go back there real soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally drove out of the rain in Oklahoma, on our way to Ross's brother Jack's house in Lawton. Which is where we are now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should mention that da boyz have been real troopers through all of this. They are good with being left in the RV when we go out. They were even fine with being left in Jane Honda when we make quick trips to the store or go out to eat when the RV was in the shop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is a good thing, since we bought this RV for them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6440784362575579460?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6440784362575579460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6440784362575579460' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6440784362575579460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6440784362575579460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/10/more-relatives-and-lots-of-music.html' title='More relatives and lots of music.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4519944188717365473</id><published>2009-10-24T18:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T18:42:25.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aaah. That's better.</title><content type='html'>I left you hanging with that last post, didn't I? All gloom and doom and more than a dash of self-pity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my batteries are recharged (pun intended) and life is better now that we finally got out of Montana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left Montana a couple of weeks ago . . . but I still get shivers thinking about how much that state tried to get us to stay. Bad luck and bad weather made us wonder if we should just tuck our tails between our legs and turn back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nice people in Missoula fixed our coolant leak and put in a new alternator -- but it took a couple days and we got the RV back at 5 p.m. We had to race to get to Bozeman. We unhitched Jane Honda and I drove, too, so we could go faster. With a tow car, you're not supposed to exceed 65 mph. We got to the nice RV park very late. It was freezing cold (remember, bad weather) with snow on the ground. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw a couple of deer on our way out, in the dark, early next morning. We felt pretty confident we were finally over the hump. And we made it all the way to lunch! We stopped for half an hour at the Glendive Pizza Pit (not as glamorous as it sounds). When we got back to the RV, the alternator clearly wasn't working like it should. I got on Google and my cell phone and found a place one exit behind us that said they could help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our new alternator was bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four hours and several hundred dollars later (alternators are more expensive in Glendive than in Missoula), we were racing to Bismarck. Again, Jane Honda, the dogs and I were in the lead. Ross and Destiny were close behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got there around midnight. Ross was setting up in the dark when  something else went wonky with our electricity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember my previous posts?  &lt;i&gt;4. There's something else weird wrong with our electrical system, so the coach battery isn't working either. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, even before that . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;After a couple of hours of sitting around, playing on the computer, watching TV . . . the lights started to fade and the heat went off. The outlets weren't affected, though. Weird, huh? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, that was still going on. But until then, it was a minor inconvenience compared to alternators going out. So we were used to using battery-operated lanterns at night and a space heater. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we were in Bismarck at midnight and the whole electrical system seemed to go kaflooey. Ross tried all kinds of things to restart the "new and improved" invertor/convertor, but nothing worked. We ended up shoving a long extension cord through the window to operate the space heater. And we slept just fine under our two sleeping bags. (You have to admit, Ross is prepared for just about anything!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, October 8, we met our friend Dale Ahlquist in Aberdeen, South Dakota, around lunchtime. We were now officially back on schedule! Woohoo! We drove to Dale's house in Minnesota and had a wonderful time seeing his family again. We parked the big rig right in his cul-de-sac -- and that extension cord came in handy again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I had delegated a research project to my brother in Racine. Find us someone who can repair RV electrical systems! And he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to Racine on October 9 -- our birthday -- and dropped Destiny off for another round of repairs. Randy graciously let us stay at his house and we took full advantage of his washer and dryer, among other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was great to see the family. I even went out with a friend from high school. We connected again on Facebook after mumblemumble years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They finally cured Destiny of her electrical woes. It was an installation error with the new system. Now everything is running perfectly. Pretty much. At least with the new inverter/converter. We've had some small issues. The new macerator stopped working a couple days ago. Turns out the ground wire came loose. The water pump also stopped. Again, I think it was another loose connection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bouncing along all these roads does tend to shake things up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4519944188717365473?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4519944188717365473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4519944188717365473' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4519944188717365473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4519944188717365473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/10/aaah-thats-better.html' title='Aaah. That&apos;s better.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8105522344056304695</id><published>2009-10-05T19:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T19:04:26.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I admit that I am powerless.</title><content type='html'>When you hit bottom, there's no place to go but up. We're now at 3,200 feet here in Missoula. I guess that means things are looking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bottom? Yesterday, we found ourselves at the side of a country road with a dead RV, a dead tow car and no cell service. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross can explain better than I what happened, but here's how I understand it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. We had a coolant leak, causing the RV to overheat.&lt;br /&gt;2. The leak shorted out the alternator, so the chassis batteries weren't getting charged.&lt;br /&gt;3. Because the batteries were dead, we couldn't start the generator.&lt;br /&gt;4. There's something else weird wrong with our electrical system, so the coach battery isn't working either. (Don't know why, yet.)&lt;br /&gt;5. I accidentally left the fan on in the car all day while it was being towed, so its battery died, too. (Lesson #2: learned.)&lt;br /&gt;6. There's perfectly good cell service in St. Regis, Montana -- but not three miles away at Exit 37.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross thought he was going to have to walk those three miles back to St. Regis -- but, fortunately, the only car we saw on that road we pulled off on, stopped to jump-start the Honda. That's when things started looking better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We called the RV towing service we signed up for and they sent out Sam, who got the generator started on Destiny. Then we made a little caravan to Missoula with me and the dogs in front in the Honda, Ross driving Destiny in the middle, and Sam the tow truck guy in the back -- for moral support. And he came from Missoula anyway. We did need him along the way, so thank goodness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed overnight at Jellystone RV Park. Yes. Really. It's not as glamorous as it sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The RV towing people found us a repair place and they're working on Destiny now. We're staying at the La Quinta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to spend all day working -- first at a restaurant with wi-fi and now here at the hotel. So at least I got some stuff done!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8105522344056304695?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8105522344056304695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8105522344056304695' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8105522344056304695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8105522344056304695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-admit-that-i-am-powerless.html' title='I admit that I am powerless.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3444937495955608787</id><published>2009-10-03T19:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T19:40:24.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing is ever easy.</title><content type='html'>My friend Martha says I've used up all my sympathy points, but -- because I brag about the fun parts -- I ought to be honest about the difficulties of this trip, too. Don't you think so? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one should be surprised that getting ready to leave was exhausting. I have no one to blame but myself for that. I've been collecting things (books, wine and other fun stuff) forever. And I put off the inevitable for too long. Packing (and tossing out and giving away) took waaaaaaay too long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As mentioned before, we had our RV fixed up. You kind of hope after all that time and money everything would be perfect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we were ready to go at 10 a.m. That's only an hour late, which is pretty good for us. (Don't remind me. I know we had an extra 24 hours.) When Ross tried to start the engine, it wouldn't go. Dead battery. I guess neither of us heard we were supposed to turn off the inverter when not plugged into "shore power." (D'oh!) We had to call AAA, so we didn't leave until noon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, we pulled into our RV park, unhitched Jane (Jane Honda. Get it?), and settled in. After a couple of hours of sitting around, playing on the computer, watching TV . . . the lights started to fade and the heat went off. The outlets weren't affected, though. Weird, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today, Ross had to call a guy to come out and see if he could see what was wrong. That meant Ross didn't come with the rest of us this morning and left after lunch to come back to meet the guy. So, he missed out on some of the fun. Plus, the guy was just as confused as we were. So it's still not fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not huge -- since, we still have computer access and we have lanterns. But it's another awkward thing to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're figuring it out as we go along. Sometimes stuff catches us by surprise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3444937495955608787?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3444937495955608787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3444937495955608787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3444937495955608787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3444937495955608787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/10/nothing-is-ever-easy.html' title='Nothing is ever easy.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3084379477576768077</id><published>2009-10-01T20:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T20:53:08.954-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still here.</title><content type='html'>Just couldn't get it all done in order to leave this morning. In fact, we're still not completely there -- but we will be by about 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. So . . . a day late and a peso short, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked up Destiny on Monday, with all her new equipment and facelift and everything and parked her in a storage lot. On Tuesday, Ross braved driving her through the narrow streets of Wallingford and parked in front of our neighbor's house where there's a Y in the road and it's a bit wider. (Lola graciously moved her car around the corner for a couple of days.) So now we have our &lt;i&gt;next &lt;/i&gt;home parked by our &lt;i&gt;current &lt;/i&gt;home. That makes moving stuff a little bit easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also have a storage pod parked in back. If you're not familiar with them, it's a pretty cool idea. It's a big box they bring to your door. You can put anything you want in it -- furniture, boxes, whatever. Keep it as long as you want. Call them when you want them to pick it up and they'll bring it to their warehouse and store it until you call and say, "Bring it back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had it for months, it seems. They're coming to get it on Saturday. They say you don't even have to be careful about balancing the load. They pick it up from the top or something. Which is great. Because we loaded all the books first. Piled to the ceiling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These last few days, we've had all of these omigosh! moments. Omigosh, I have to cancel Comcast! Will we still have the same email address? Omigosh, I need to transfer our phone number to Vonage. Will they let us keep it? Omigosh, I have to change our address with everyone. How does that work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we've remembered most of the important stuff. If not, they'll have to forgive us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3084379477576768077?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3084379477576768077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3084379477576768077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3084379477576768077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3084379477576768077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/10/still-here.html' title='Still here.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4228586926874119325</id><published>2009-09-29T00:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T00:19:25.429-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mail.</title><content type='html'>Mail has been my life and my livelihood since . . . who can count that high. Today I scared myself by turning in the wackiest change-of-address ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year, when we started this Mexico experiment, I had a heck of a time adding our names to the "Do Not Mail" list. I don't know if I've publicly confessed this before. It felt really disloyal and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next step was to go to a Web site called "Catalog Choice." Every catalog I got, I went online and said, "Don't mail this to me anymore." It was strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the weirdest was signing up for Earth Class Mail. I am forwarding all our mail to a new address: 93 S. Jackson St., #13711, Seattle, WA 98104. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a real address, but not really. I don't live there, but it's now my mailing address. They'll get my mail, scan it and email me the scan. If I don't care about it, I'll tell them to recycle it. If I want to know what's in the envelope, I'll tell them to open and scan it. If I want it sent to me, I'll have to figure out where they can send it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of sorting your mail over the recycle bin, you do it online. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole process started a while ago. Hardly anybody mails me anything really interesting anymore. My Mom is online. So is the rest of my family. I've already asked every biller with the technology to send my bills straight to my bank, where I handle them online. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I owe a lot to the US Postal Service and now I'm pulling the last rug out from under them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4228586926874119325?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4228586926874119325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4228586926874119325' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4228586926874119325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4228586926874119325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/09/mail.html' title='Mail.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-213424558887263886</id><published>2009-09-27T13:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T14:10:23.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting ready to get ready.</title><content type='html'>Since you last heard from me, we've been (1) enjoying Seattle's most spectacular summer ever and (2) fixing up the house to sell it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's really about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer was so wonderful that we really didn't get to the whole house thing until far too late. But we finally did get the place pretty enough to list it a week and a half ago. There have already been three open houses and another one is coming up in an hour. There's nothing really to do but wait for that one hour to pass . . . so I thought it was the right time to relaunch this wacky blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destiny, our RV and home for the month of October, has been in the shop for weeks and weeks. She needed some extensive body work. The other stuff required ordering parts. And since we weren't going to go on the road until October 1, the deadline for getting her back slipped out to tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means we haven't had her available for loading yet. We'll be doing that Tuesday and Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. That's pretty insane. We (and by "we," I mean Ross) are going to be tired before we start. But we have a lovely itinerary planned across these United States. We'll be visiting family and friends along the way. We'll be taking our time. And that will be a little different, too, from many of our past trips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll be hauling the Honda behind us. They say that doesn't make an enormous difference in how you drive -- except you can never, ever back up without unhitching the car first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, the dogs will be riding with us -- soaking up the scenery, napping in the sunshine, chatting up the people at the rest stops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sure hope the house sells quickly!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-213424558887263886?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/213424558887263886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=213424558887263886' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/213424558887263886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/213424558887263886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/09/getting-ready-to-get-ready.html' title='Getting ready to get ready.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2680235311468970609</id><published>2009-04-26T19:08:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T19:25:19.921-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot and sunny. Must be Mexico!</title><content type='html'>We got in, courtesy of Continental Airlines, quite late last night. The airport was pretty empty and the people who were there were wearing surgical masks. They call them tapabocas (mouth-covers). Learned that in the &lt;em&gt;New York Times&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always have a little guessing game about what won't be working when we get here. It takes a couple days to work all the kinks out. This time, Anna (the cleaning woman who hides from me) had forgotten (?) to clean the main bathroom and Ross's study. Dust and cucarachas everywhere. Yuk. But the rest of the house looks pretty good. Kind of a strange choice she made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, no hot water this morning. We'd run out of LPG. That's easily solved, except that it's impossible to relight the pilot on the water heater. I hope Ross figures it out by tomorrow. I don't want another chilly shower. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we had no food in the house, we walked up to Casa de Waffle this morning for breakfast. No, I don't eat the waffles. Then we took the long way home, walking up to the town square before coming back. I got a blister, but it could have been worse if Ross hadn't thought to lend me his socks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting used to being 5000 feet above sea level is tougher than it sounds, so I needed an after-breakfast nap after all that walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch, we went grocery shopping. We had a few things on our list that we couldn't find at our usual grocery store, so we went to Walmart. (Don't judge me!) And, as we were wandering the aisles, Ross noticed a kid with a Wallingford Wurst Festival T-shirt. That's our Seattle neighborhood annual sausage festival. The whole family was with him -- and they live within a mile of us in Seattle. Crazy, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagine they're happy to be soaking up some sunshine, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2680235311468970609?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2680235311468970609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2680235311468970609' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2680235311468970609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2680235311468970609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/hot-and-sunny-must-be-mexico.html' title='Hot and sunny. Must be Mexico!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1860713419261845077</id><published>2009-04-06T23:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T23:53:45.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home.</title><content type='html'>In case you wondered, all four of us made it home safe and sound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still haven't uploaded pics, but that's the next thing to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to visit with Karin, Mike and Corey in Eugene on Saturday. We pulled into Seattle on a sunny, warm Sunday. (Wait . . . Seattle? Warm in April??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was all filing taxes and back to work and two-walks-per-day normality today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still sunny!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1860713419261845077?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1860713419261845077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1860713419261845077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1860713419261845077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1860713419261845077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/home.html' title='Home.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2083128876642180854</id><published>2009-04-03T19:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T20:56:51.144-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hiking.</title><content type='html'>We took da boyz on a two-hour walk today in Patrick's Point State Park. They weren't allowed on the trails or on the beach . . . so we stuck to the roads. (Discrimination against fuzzy people with tails!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to have photos to share soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The walk seemed to wear them out completely. We haven't seen them since we got back nearly five hours ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross is about to start cooking dinner, so that might rouse them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of cooking. I've shared the cooking duties a bit more than usual. My first dinner was black bean burritos and, if I do say so, they were maaahvelous. Last night, I made "tuna hot dish" from the same RV cookbook and it was, if not a complete disaster, generously you could give it a 4 out of 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why an RV cookbook? I'm not sure. Maybe these recipes use fewer ingredients. They give you shopping lists for three day of meals. I didn't quite realize that you can be a little trapped in a big vehicle like this. You pull into the RV campground and get all attached, then realize you don't have ketchup. Now what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why our next purchase is going to be a car we can tow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we're going to sell the Prius. &gt;sniff!&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reason one is that it can't be towed unless all four wheels are off the ground. Reason two is that they don't sell them in Mexico, so we're pretty certain they don't know how to service them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're thinking about a Honda Fit or a Smartcar. Does anyone know anything about either of these?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2083128876642180854?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2083128876642180854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2083128876642180854' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2083128876642180854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2083128876642180854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/hiking.html' title='Hiking.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8449501207728271959</id><published>2009-04-02T23:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T00:08:46.075-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cruising.</title><content type='html'>We spent today on the road and arrived in late afternoon on the northern coast of California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw some very pretty countryside along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This adventure has reminded me of going on a cruise . . . it helps to enjoy the days at sea as much as the shore excursions. The dogs do! I think they really like being on the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike a cruise, we don't have a room steward to clean up after us. But I'm learning to clean up pretty quickly. With such a small space -- and with everything needing to be put away before you get moving -- you can't let things pile up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, a shore excursion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8449501207728271959?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8449501207728271959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8449501207728271959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8449501207728271959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8449501207728271959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/cruising.html' title='Cruising.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6362771160906916283</id><published>2009-04-01T22:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T23:03:34.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're officially defensive. Drivers, that is.</title><content type='html'>We passed! In fact, Frank said he thought he could train Ross to drive a tanker in about a week. I need some practice before I get that kind of praise. But I did fine.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We'll get certificates to prove we have the ability to get from point A to point B without endangering life and limb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I want to do this full time. It really is pretty cool. We're forced to simplify our lives a little. (Although we can always find ways to complicate things . . . just like I can always find ways to add calories to whatever I eat.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we head up to the coast of California, near Trinidad Bay, and hang out there for a day or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6362771160906916283?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6362771160906916283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6362771160906916283' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6362771160906916283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6362771160906916283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/04/were-officially-defensive-drivers-that.html' title='We&apos;re officially defensive. Drivers, that is.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2391785027001284670</id><published>2009-03-31T20:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T20:59:22.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Masters of our Destiny.</title><content type='html'>Well, that wasn't so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our first lesson today. Our last lesson is tomorrow. Frank, our instructor, was sweet. We both did well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad to have had the opportunity to learn to brake and make turns in a controlled environment -- and after that I drove through some windy hill country on a two-lane road, through a small town (only driving over one curb -- oops!) and on the freeway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am MUCH more confident now that I can deal with this huge thing. And it was fun! I backed up around orange cones . . . and didn't knock any of them over. Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da boyz were so confident in my abilities, in fact, that they fell asleep while I was driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2391785027001284670?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2391785027001284670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2391785027001284670' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2391785027001284670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2391785027001284670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/03/masters-of-our-destiny.html' title='Masters of our Destiny.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2131972630178748718</id><published>2009-03-29T12:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T13:01:17.934-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Destiny on vacation.</title><content type='html'>We've been spending the last month fixing up the RV and getting ready to take her on a real road trip. And now we're finally doing it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're on our way to RV driving school in northern California. In case you're wondering how we're driving it without knowing how . . . that's not exactly what driving school is about. You don't need a special license or anything. Everyone we've talked to and every book we've read (you can imagine how many of those) says anyone who can drive can figure out how to maneuver an RV (even a big one like ours) pretty quickly, and get comfortable in just a few hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, in fact, Ross has done great. He confesses to driving over a few curbs in Phoenix when we first picked her up -- but I was driving the rental car in front of him and didn't see it happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is more like taking a defensive driving class. And I'm not willing to get behind the wheel until I'm in a big parking lot with nothing to hit and a professional trainer sitting next to me. Just a complete lack of confidence. This thing is HUGE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is more of a safety thing than a necessity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started out yesterday about an hour and a half late. (Hey, this is our first trip with the dogs. It took some real effort to load everything without our escape artists running loose.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da boyz figured out how to get comfortable quickly. Bob settled on my lap and Slick found an upholstered chair to curl up in. So, while the wheels were moving, it really was like a big version of our Mexico road trip in the Tundra. They enjoy being with us all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped at a Walmart along the way for some supplies -- mostly food. We decided to experiment with leaving the dogs alone. They were calm when we got back and nothing had been chewed, so it looks like we're going to be able to handle it if we go out to eat or something. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made dinner on our little stove last night. Everything is sort of Barbie-size. We have a double sink, but each side barely holds a plate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating with dogs in the RV is a bit of a challenge because the dinette table is a lot more accessible than our dining room table at home. The benches allow them to jump up next to us. They really don't know how to stay off furniture. But we finally persuaded them to stay on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we all managed to find our own space on the queen-size bed to settle in. It helped that da boyz were exhausted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we're staying at the RV park on the Rogue River in Grants Pass, Oregon. The RV is backed up right to the river. I'm hoping it warms up a little this afternoon so we can take a walk along it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2131972630178748718?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2131972630178748718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2131972630178748718' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2131972630178748718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2131972630178748718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/03/destiny-on-vacation.html' title='Destiny on vacation.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6685356387494170857</id><published>2009-02-22T08:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T08:24:13.151-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On the road.</title><content type='html'>We're about to leave Chowchilla, California. We picked up "Our Destiny" on Friday and have been getting to know her ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things aren't working . . . but it's likely because we don't understand everything yet. There was a lot of documentation of appliances, etc., but nothing about running the actual motor home. We're figuring out things as we go. We have an appointment to get it completely checked out in Seattle on Monday, along with an orientation. We're really looking forward to having some mysteries resolved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're meeting Karin, Mike and Corey in Eugene tonight. I'll write again soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6685356387494170857?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6685356387494170857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6685356387494170857' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6685356387494170857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6685356387494170857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-road.html' title='On the road.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4987241186426456602</id><published>2009-02-15T20:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T20:54:40.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We bought an RV on eBay!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZjTixX96sI/AAAAAAAAALU/6e7pBIt9sYY/s1600-h/coachman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZjTixX96sI/AAAAAAAAALU/6e7pBIt9sYY/s320/coachman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303221155551636162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woohoo! We won! We won!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We won the right to spend thousands of dollars on this 1997 RV. We need to go to Phoenix to pick it up . . . but such a deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4987241186426456602?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4987241186426456602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4987241186426456602' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4987241186426456602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4987241186426456602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-bought-rv-on-ebay.html' title='We bought an RV on eBay!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZjTixX96sI/AAAAAAAAALU/6e7pBIt9sYY/s72-c/coachman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1895162304819644709</id><published>2009-02-15T14:18:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T15:46:20.326-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Coo-ba Libre</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZiNAX8bGBI/AAAAAAAAALM/ZFyc5GvgRGo/s1600-h/Belafontecalypso.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZiNAX8bGBI/AAAAAAAAALM/ZFyc5GvgRGo/s320/Belafontecalypso.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303143598795724818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Ross and I went RV shopping. All the RVs for sale in the whole world are in Fife, Washington -- between here and Tacoma on I-5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way there, we stopped at a chain restaurant called Bahama Breeze. They were playing calypso music, which reminded me of Harry Belafonte, which reminded me of our music "system" when I was a kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to call that particular piece of furniture. It had a big radio that squealed between stations. We typically heard this squawk on Sunday mornings, while Daddy was tuning in Dr. DeHaan on the Radio Bible Class from Grand Rapids, Michigan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We called it "The Radio," but I'm pretty sure there was also a record player in it. The records my parents played included Harry Belafonte (Day-O, aka The Banana Boat Song), Victor Borge (phonetic punctuation) and The Nutcracker Suite. I still have this particular one. I stole it when I got my own record player that could play LPs -- and took it with me to college and beyond. When I was small, I'd dance around the house to the music all year long. I had no idea it was meant to be a Christmas thing. I think I had a little girl crush on the beautiful blonde woman on the album cover. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What other records did my parents own? I don't remember. Maybe a sibling can help me out with this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cabinet that held these wonders was huge (or, anyway, it's huge in my memory). If I had been naughty and was told to stand in the corner, the corner made by The Radio and the wall was the one I stood in. So that means it was taller than I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Radio was a symbol of both delight and terror. Yeah, I'm exaggerating again. I was embarrassed by having to stand in the corner, but not terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The music we heard yesterday also reminded me of Lucy and Desi. We recently watched The Long, Long Trailer and it's still very funny. He's very Coo-ban. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings us back to to the whole RV shopping trip. We learned a few things. I learned how much I dislike being sold. It's a little distressing to realize how much I prefer to buy things from people I like. I wish I could be more rational than that. Better yet is buying from no one in particular -- by which I mean "on the Internet." So we're putting in a bid on an RV on eBay today. If it works, we'll get a much better deal, without the aggravation of working with a salesperson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best of all would be not having to go halfway to Coo-ba to pick it up. But that's a trade-off I'm willing to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish us luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1895162304819644709?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1895162304819644709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1895162304819644709' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1895162304819644709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1895162304819644709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/coo-ba-libre.html' title='Coo-ba Libre'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SZiNAX8bGBI/AAAAAAAAALM/ZFyc5GvgRGo/s72-c/Belafontecalypso.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1461914831844520505</id><published>2009-01-31T14:41:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T15:21:59.110-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You've got to have friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SYS_w-g3IQI/AAAAAAAAAK0/a-a3w5vxj3o/s1600-h/I+heart+my+friends.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297569909830000898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SYS_w-g3IQI/AAAAAAAAAK0/a-a3w5vxj3o/s320/I+heart+my+friends.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My lonely post has been top of the list for toooooooo long. I get it. I just haven't had a whole lot more to say. And Ross is gone again. He left on Monday and won't be back for another week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The good news is that he will be bringing both his parents back to their home before he returns. His dad has been through a course of radiation and will be allowed back home. And his mom is lucid and gaining weight and strength. They say she can leave the nursing home late next week. Ross will get her settled in and come back here on Saturday or Sunday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's pretty great -- and surprising -- that they've both made such a recovery.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When last I wrote . . . I told you about ordering pizza for the Friday night group. Well, they deserve better than that. So I cooked! (I wasn't entirely sure my cooking would be better than Pizza Hut, but I was willing to try.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I don't get Friday's off, I needed something I could make ahead. I was in the mood for black bean soup and I found a &lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/dave-lieberman/black-bean-soup-recipe/index.html"&gt;great recipe &lt;/a&gt;online, along with complementary &lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/dave-lieberman/spicy-cornbread-muffins-recipe/index.html"&gt;cornbread muffins&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I made the soup on Wednesday. Fortunately, we have a practically empty fridge downstairs to store it in. I had to make the muffins when I got home for work . . . and I had a meeting that ended pretty late, so I was in the middle of preparations when the first people arrived. Roupen and Shirley began setting the table immediately. (I was worried about doing that the night before, because I thought the dogs would pull everything on the floor.) Todd and Linda came next and finished making the muffins. Anita brought a salad. Donna brought something else. Others came with dessert offerings. Peter and Kristy came all the way from Argentina!! (They just got back after being gone several months.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a more than full house. We kept adding place settings until no more place settings could be added. There were 14 of us! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think everyone had enough to eat. We were on seconds when we ran out of soup. One lonely, little muffin was my breakfast this morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were dog adventures, too. Soup was spilled and I got a snarl when I pulled a dog away from the clean-up. The door didn't completely latch after I said goodbye to one guest and Slick got out long enough to snarl at a nice dog in our front yard. (I had the presence of mind to yell, "Do you want a cookie?" and he came running back in.) The dog's owners couldn't have been more gracious. I couldn't have been more mortified.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In short, a wacky time was had by all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think we'll have to do it again next week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo is by Kevin Dooley. Found on Flickr Creative Commons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1461914831844520505?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1461914831844520505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1461914831844520505' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1461914831844520505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1461914831844520505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/01/youve-got-to-have-friends.html' title='You&apos;ve got to have friends'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SYS_w-g3IQI/AAAAAAAAAK0/a-a3w5vxj3o/s72-c/I+heart+my+friends.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1958746841182277255</id><published>2009-01-09T23:55:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T00:16:51.856-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I was a little lonely.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWg9KBWjalI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/V9hJ3XZHMKI/s1600-h/lonely.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289545004717664850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWg9KBWjalI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/V9hJ3XZHMKI/s320/lonely.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross is gone. He's in Tennessee right now to help his parents, who are both ill. He left on Wednesday to visit a client in Atlanta. Since he was partway there, he just went up to Tennessee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't do very well when he's gone. I stay up too late. I'm not very productive. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But tonight our Friday night group rallied round -- even though our chef wasn't here. Ross was cooking for his dad and the nephew who has been taking care of the house while Ross's parents were in the hospital.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ordered pizza and made a salad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We talked about a lot of stuff. I think I did most of the talking. When I'm alone here, I talk to myself too much. I hope I got most of it out of my system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first night Ross was gone, we had a weird wind storm. Storm may be an exaggeration, but it was definitely eerie -- like Halloween should be. Clouds scudding across a night sky. That sort of thing. I also could have sworn I heard footsteps IN THE HOUSE! This seriously got my heart pounding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night, no wind. But a very quiet house. And then . . . FOOTSTEPS! I start talking (to the dogs, of course) hoping to let whoever it is know there's someone here. Hoping they'd leave. Yikes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight, I'm busily preparing for the arrival of the group and when I see Slick jump from a chair, he sets it rocking and I hear . . . what sounds exactly like footsteps, unless you know it's the rocking chair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The photo is from Flickr Creative Commons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1958746841182277255?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1958746841182277255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1958746841182277255' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1958746841182277255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1958746841182277255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-was-little-lonely.html' title='I was a little lonely.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWg9KBWjalI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/V9hJ3XZHMKI/s72-c/lonely.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8152627829995358668</id><published>2009-01-04T10:11:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T10:28:03.477-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Taste in books</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWDjbKffBaI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2rxhk_lhdjg/s1600-h/secret+ingredients.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287476018345346466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWDjbKffBaI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2rxhk_lhdjg/s320/secret+ingredients.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love books about food. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have read quite a few backstage at the restaurant books, like &lt;em&gt;Kitchen Confidential&lt;/em&gt;, by Bourdain and &lt;em&gt;Heat&lt;/em&gt; by Buford. I like Ruth Reichl's memoirs about being a restaurant critic -- especially &lt;em&gt;Garlic and Sapphires. &lt;/em&gt;I've also read any number of wine books. Yes, wine is food. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, of course, cookbooks make great reading. I confess I like the ones with pictures most. But the &lt;em&gt;Best Recipe &lt;/em&gt;books that are heavy on explanation are the most helpful for cooking, if you really want to go so far as to try making the recipes you read.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross bought me a terrific book for Christmas. It's &lt;em&gt;Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink.&lt;/em&gt; (By the way, I'm using my new gecko bookmark in it -- thanks, Nita and Ted!) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, da boyz like food books, too, and ate the cover while I was out the other day. Very upsetting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross and I have spent a couple days now picking books to keep and packing them up for the move to Mexico. We're keeping more than any two people can read in a lifetime. But choosing (or chewing) books isn't always about logic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8152627829995358668?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8152627829995358668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8152627829995358668' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8152627829995358668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8152627829995358668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2009/01/taste-in-books.html' title='Taste in books'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SWDjbKffBaI/AAAAAAAAAKA/2rxhk_lhdjg/s72-c/secret+ingredients.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6944171558584345398</id><published>2008-12-31T19:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T19:33:27.934-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye year.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SVwcns3xuMI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/qEE26JS2fPw/s1600-h/snow+and+moon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286131531011700930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SVwcns3xuMI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/qEE26JS2fPw/s320/snow+and+moon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What a wacky couple of weeks it's been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First, it snows. Then it snows a lot more. We STILL have some piles of it in the 'hood. Snow meant some short days at work, because I didn't want to be stuck in the dark trying to get home. I've never seen roads like this. Until now, anywhere I've been that gets a foot of snow that lasts a week also has snowplows.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've also had two short weeks at work. Three days last week and three days this week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You'd think that would mean I wouldn't get much done. But with no one else there, the days seemed a lot longer. I even filed today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also had company -- my big brother and my niece's family. That was delightful. And it made the same long days go by very quickly at home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should probably reflect on the year 2008 at this point. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year, we took a risk and lived in Mexico for three months. We learned a lot about what we want and don't want our lives there to be like. We also learned how much our boyz enjoy traveling . . . which led us to consider the whole RV idea. And that idea has not left our heads.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We also took a spectacular vacation in Croatia, Albania and Greece. While we were out of the country, the U.S. financial system verged on collapse. Ross and I are still standing. But we may not be taking any more spectacular vacations for awhile!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll also remember 2008 for the presidential election. I don't remember any phenomenon quite like it. The idea that we weren't choosing between Dull and Duller this time was really electrifying. I got addicted to some political web sites, when for the past several elections I've been avoiding that stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the business world, 2008 turned out to be a nightmare. That's what I read about all day long.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For me, however, this year was a good one. I hope it was for you. I wish you an even better year in 2009 -- and may all your resolutions come true!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The photo is from Flickr creative coomons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6944171558584345398?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6944171558584345398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6944171558584345398' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6944171558584345398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6944171558584345398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/goodbye-year.html' title='Goodbye year.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SVwcns3xuMI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/qEE26JS2fPw/s72-c/snow+and+moon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7103105034628566651</id><published>2008-12-18T20:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T20:37:42.887-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blizzard!</title><content type='html'>Okay . . . I'm exaggerating. But just a little. It snowed. All. Day. Long. Crazy, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross had a "procedure" this morning and I had to be there to take him home. So at 7 a.m. we drove to Fremont in the snow. Then we came home around 9:30 in the snow. The office was open, so I drove downtown in the snow. I wasn't very happy about the accumulation, so I drove back home at lunchtime in the snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's done snowing here for a little while. But it looks like snow for Racine tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother arrives here tomorrow. We'll have a nice white, wintry welcome for him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news: I'm very sad to say that I'm coming down with a terrible cold. Bleh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7103105034628566651?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7103105034628566651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7103105034628566651' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7103105034628566651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7103105034628566651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/blizzard.html' title='Blizzard!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6823642996327483573</id><published>2008-12-14T23:20:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T23:51:28.976-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fingerless mittens</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUXslGFZYJI/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZVcraqFeo88/s1600-h/075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279886260194336914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUXslGFZYJI/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZVcraqFeo88/s320/075.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought I invented this. But I looked it up and lots of web sites showed up. So that's deeply disappointing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last week I was very cold at work. Mostly my hands were freezing. I drank coffee all morning and tea all afternoon, just to have a hot mug of something to hold on to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tried everything. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mouse pad has a wrist rest. It feels like someone stuck it in the freezer for a week. So I thought about putting it in the microwave . . . but, on second thought, that seemed like a bad idea. Carcinogens? Fire alarms? Forget it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read about a heated mouse. That, at least, would keep fingers warm. But I didn't order it and lost track of the site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I complained to Holly the receptionist about my problem and she said, "Fingerless gloves!" But that seemed a little restrictive. Typing is my livelihood, after all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know some people who wear leg warmers on their arms. (Yes, Zoompop, I'm talkin' about you.) But my arms were fine. It was my wrists and hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mom used to sew wristbands into my new jackets for winter -- and that was wonderful. (Thanks, Mom!) So that provided some inspiration.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I remembered, when I got cold on our trip, my sweetie bought me a very nice hoodie in Dubrovnik that has little thumbholes in the sleeves. I incorporated that into my design.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I put all those ideas together (except the heated mouse and the coffee) and I got the incredibly original invention in the picture which has already been invented by many other people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before I realized how many other people were already doing this, I was thinking about starting a business (if I could just think of the clever name). I figured out about how much I'd have to charge. Let's see . . . at my hourly rate . . . that's about $594/pair. Plus materials . . . $594.72. Oh, don't forget shipping and handling. We're up to $598.22.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Any takers? If you need them before the weekend, I'll need to add a $50 rush charge.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6823642996327483573?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6823642996327483573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6823642996327483573' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6823642996327483573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6823642996327483573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/fingerless-mittens.html' title='Fingerless mittens'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUXslGFZYJI/AAAAAAAAAJw/ZVcraqFeo88/s72-c/075.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3682709818140656909</id><published>2008-12-14T10:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:13:08.527-06:00</updated><title type='text'>HO-HO-SNOW!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUUwerpzmAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/sR9_-Q-dKHw/s1600-h/072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279679441834055682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUUwerpzmAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/sR9_-Q-dKHw/s320/072.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got a nice accumulation of snow last night. The dogs seem to LOVE it. I assumed it would keep them from smelling stuff, but apparently it isolates and highlights the new smells. Mmm-mm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So we had a very fun walk this morning, checking it all out. Thank goodness my new shoes seem to be very "grippy." Falling on my butt is no doubt entertaining for those watching, but I hate it more than almost anything I can think of.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a photo of Ross's truck under the snow. (Is the house across the street &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; that color?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3682709818140656909?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3682709818140656909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3682709818140656909' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3682709818140656909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3682709818140656909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/ho-ho-snow.html' title='HO-HO-SNOW!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SUUwerpzmAI/AAAAAAAAAJo/sR9_-Q-dKHw/s72-c/072.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4781924349874160442</id><published>2008-12-12T19:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T19:11:57.827-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Grinch.</title><content type='html'>I hate to admit how much I don't like company holiday parties. I don't really like parties much at all, except the ones I give. I'm shy and awkward. There. I said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our company party is tonight. We've gotten so young and hip where I work that the party doesn't start till 8:30. Cracks me up. That's about when I start thinking it's time to go to bed. I'm sure all the young hipsters won't show up till at least 9. That's when I get out of my chair and go upstairs to get ready for bed. The music and dancing will probably start at 9:30. That's just about when I drift off to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go and show my face. Then all the young hipsters can feel young and hip and superior in comparison. I'll be the one yawning in the corner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4781924349874160442?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4781924349874160442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4781924349874160442' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4781924349874160442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4781924349874160442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/grinch.html' title='Grinch.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2928201461752200709</id><published>2008-12-03T19:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T19:32:28.636-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I lived.</title><content type='html'>I met several people today. I have the business cards to prove it. This is an interesting conference. Several very, very big companies are represented, but there are only a few hundred people -- so it feels pretty exclusive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a long day. I'm pretty sure I'll be writing about the whole thing on the Hacker blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, at the end of the conference, I rent a car and go up to Racine. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's started to snow -- so what started as a green conference will end as a white one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2928201461752200709?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2928201461752200709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2928201461752200709' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2928201461752200709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2928201461752200709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-lived.html' title='I lived.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4587026587239186737</id><published>2008-12-02T19:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T20:05:42.146-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Chi-town.</title><content type='html'>Does anyone but me remember when Chicago was called Chi-town (pronounced Shytown)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I lived pretty close to Chicago, I never got terribly familiar with it. I visited it most when I was in my twenties, living in Madison. I stayed close to Michigan Avenue (the Miracle Mile) during those days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I'm staying in the theater district. &lt;em&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/em&gt; is playing next door. (Tagline: "Nobody puts Baby in a corner.") When I was in my twenties, &lt;em&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/em&gt; was a Patrick Swayze/Jennifer Grey movie. &lt;em&gt;Wicked &lt;/em&gt;is playing down the block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's chilly here, but not awful. I walked eight blocks from my hotel to the opening reception for the conference and wasn't in any real pain -- even though I didn't wear a hat. It's true: it's cooler near the lake. And breezier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reception was all about networking -- and I'm proud to say I met several people and stayed for well over an hour. Tomorrow's sessions are punctuated every couple of hours with networking breaks. I hope to live through it. (Argh.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4587026587239186737?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4587026587239186737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4587026587239186737' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4587026587239186737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4587026587239186737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/12/chi-town.html' title='Chi-town.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2946958460237697839</id><published>2008-11-30T09:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T10:08:33.307-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The most wonderful time.</title><content type='html'>Everything is as we left it here -- except the dogs are being extra affectionate.  (They like us, the really like us!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We missed them an awful lot, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the rest of our time in Ajijic was really nice. We went to a matinee one day for &lt;em&gt;The Last Legion.&lt;/em&gt; I'd never heard of it. I don't know if it's still playing here. It started out pretty bad, but I liked it by the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Pedro's Gourmet for Thanksgiving dinner with our new neighbors, Ron and Kathy. On Friday we went out with our good friend, Claudette. She keeps us updated on all the local news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's now officially time to start thinking about Christmas. We're going to a Christmas concert at Benaroya Hall tonight. It's the choir from Seattle Pacific University. I'm very excited about it. It reminds me of going to hear my sisters sing in the Park High School choir. Best memories ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that it's the season, do you have any Christmas wishes I should know about?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2946958460237697839?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2946958460237697839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2946958460237697839' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2946958460237697839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2946958460237697839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/most-wonderful-time.html' title='The most wonderful time.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4028441916349909372</id><published>2008-11-27T09:50:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T11:55:16.631-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's different this time.</title><content type='html'>Every time we come to Ajijic, we go through a mental list of what's changed and what hasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, it seems quieter -- even though it's festival time. St. Andrew is the patron saint of Ajijic and his feast day is November 30. The festival leads up to the big day. The fireworks at 5:30 a.m. don't even wake me. The ones at night go off for maybe two minutes. The mariachis parade past -- they don't set up camp nearby for an all-nighter like they have in the past. The action seems much more focused on the plaza this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of it is that it's chillier than it was the last few times we were here for Thanksgiving -- so all our windows are closed. At least the ones that &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The egrets are gone!  No jub-jub birds discussing politics all day long -- at first I thought the Obama win must have left them speechless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real reason is that "they" destroyed the neighborhood trees the birds hung out in. I honestly don't know who "they" are. It was two trees on two different properties. The one we can see wasn't cut down -- just de-limbed. So it's quite ugly. If you want to cut down a tree, you need to pay for a permit, even if it's in your yard. I think "they" thought they could get away with not getting a permit this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure the birds just moved someplace else, but I imagine they were stressed out by it. Even though they bothered me, I feel bad for them. I also feel bad about the trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lake has gotten very full. VERY full. If you've been here, you might remember the park with all the picnic tables to the west of the Ajijic dock. It's now flooded up to the top of the benches. They have sand bags placed around the park . . . but they haven't quite done the trick. On the other side of the dock, the water comes pretty close to the doorways of the houses and businesses. You used to be able to park there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked along the lake for several blocks west of the dock. The soccer field is complete drowned -- you can only see the top couple of feet of the fence behind the goals. A tennis court looks more like a fence around a fish farm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading a history of Lake Chapala -- and apparently up until the 1950s it flooded fairly regularly. So I guess this is a sign of returning health.  I'm just glad our house is a block or two away from the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon, we're planning to take a walk to the lake near our house. I'll try to take some pictures and upload them when we get back to Seattle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4028441916349909372?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4028441916349909372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4028441916349909372' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4028441916349909372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4028441916349909372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/whats-different-this-time.html' title='What&apos;s different this time.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3923968502057437981</id><published>2008-11-24T14:52:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T15:11:21.098-06:00</updated><title type='text'>That was a heavy toothbrush!</title><content type='html'>I didn't need much more than a toothbrush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But (as you can tell) I brought a computer . . . and my e-book reader . . . and my iPod . . . and a couple of books . . . and some magazines. Heaven forbid that I get bored! My backpack probably weighed 30 pounds, but it was all I needed to bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just about everything here at Casa Gecko was in working order, except we were out of gas (so no hot water and no oven or stove) and our satellite TV wasn't functioning.  That's really not much, considering the usual running around it takes to get the Internet going or the phones working or fix a crack in a ceiling or whatever we find.  The place was clean, too, since Ana has been continuing to come here every week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, we haven't been gone &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No mangoes on the tree yet. The bananas are gone. The limones are still coming. They are a year-round treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajijic has its own Walmart now. We had to go check it out. It's not that big a deal, really. I was expecting something outrageously big, but it's about the same as the average Fred Meyer in Seattle. Which is big. And it's about the same size (I think) as Soriana -- the Mexican Fred Meyer -- just down the road. They've had a recent facelift and it's much more attractive than Walmart. Walmart is probably three or four kilometers closer to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't shop at Walmart in the States, because they have such a bad reputation in their dealings with labor. But (totally hypocritically) I shop at Sam's Club because they have really great stuff and it's cheap. And I'm afraid if Walmart were more convenient than the places I normally go to, I'd probably be tempted. It's easy to be a Walmart snob when they're out in the middle of nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To balance out our Walmart trip, we stopped at a little store on our street yesterday to buy some onions, potatoes, chiles, etc. We spent $1.35 there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've spent more for a replacement brush for my fancy electric toothbrush!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3923968502057437981?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3923968502057437981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3923968502057437981' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3923968502057437981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3923968502057437981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/that-was-heavy-toothbrush.html' title='That was a heavy toothbrush!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4895680393090663440</id><published>2008-11-20T22:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T22:22:40.847-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Toothbrush.</title><content type='html'>Ross called me at work today to ask whether I'd be checking any bags at the airport tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I figured I could get everything in my carry-on and backpack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, for the rest of the day, during free moments (usually in the ladies' room), I'd think . . . what do I need to pack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, it occurred to me that I had brought my electric toothbrush back to Seattle from Casa Gecko in August.  Yep. That's what I need to pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to obnoxiously remind people about my upcoming vacations, just to make them jealous. That got a little old. Now I can brag that I don't even have to pack!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4895680393090663440?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4895680393090663440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4895680393090663440' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4895680393090663440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4895680393090663440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/toothbrush.html' title='Toothbrush.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5503563046113205316</id><published>2008-11-13T22:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:29:50.416-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel plans.</title><content type='html'>Haven't gone away in awhile. Ross went to Sacramento last week. But I've stayed home for months now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week Friday, we return to Mexico. I wonder why I've thought not at all of Casa Gecko since we left. How completely it has left my mind. I focused hard on being here in Seattle with all my heart. And it worked. Now I feel a little guilty -- like I have mistreated a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll be there for a week. We've been in touch with one or two people who will be there at the same time. We have reservations at &lt;a href="http://www.pedrosgourmet.com/business/pedrosgourmetmenu.htm"&gt;Pedro's Gourmet Restaurant &lt;/a&gt;for Thanksgiving dinner. Just $15 per person -- beat that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the first week of December, I'll be attending a &lt;a href="http://www.goodandgreen.biz/"&gt;conference &lt;/a&gt;in Chicago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. That's cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But better than that, I'll be spending the weekend in Racine! I haven't been back there by myself since well before I got marrried. I'm thinking the summer of 1993. Maybe. I'll miss Ross, natch, but I'm kind of excited about the chance to relax with Mom and Dad and visit with my sibs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the plans. What about you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5503563046113205316?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5503563046113205316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5503563046113205316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5503563046113205316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5503563046113205316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/travel-plans.html' title='Travel plans.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8029846359564658980</id><published>2008-11-13T00:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:22:59.709-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's new with you?</title><content type='html'>I haven't had much to say . . . but some people have been saying they're a little tired of coming here and seeing sweet potato chips. I have to admit it was quite some time ago that I devoured the last chip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't have much to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We elected a new president since then. But I'm pretty sure you knew that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things got very busy at work. Now it's slowed back down to a reasonable speed. But that's not terribly interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da boyz got excited yesterday morning when two off-leash dogs came running down the street. Slick got so riled, in fact, that he slipped out of his harness and attacked the small dog. I'm pretty sure the little dog is okay. She managed to get her teeth into Slick's paw -- and he totally deserved that and worse. The owner was apologetic that his dogs were off leash. But the whole story is just embarrassing and I don't want to talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I participated in an all-day paddling clinic for dragon boating a week or so ago. Ross bought me a really cool new paddle -- just in time for the clinic. So that was cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross is finishing up a series of Sunday School classes on "Signs, Symbols and Mysteries of the Church" this coming Sunday. And that's awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh . . . and I was a guest speaker at a UW Executive MBA class on direct marketing on Friday. I enjoyed it immensely. It's a lot easier holding the attention of a class full of people who are getting graded than conference attenders.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8029846359564658980?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8029846359564658980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8029846359564658980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8029846359564658980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8029846359564658980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/11/whats-new-with-you.html' title='What&apos;s new with you?'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7201018052555465877</id><published>2008-10-25T20:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T20:18:28.428-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aren't they beautiful?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SQPC1K604fI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DC3r0t-QA9k/s1600-h/009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261263008418816498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SQPC1K604fI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DC3r0t-QA9k/s320/009.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are sweet potato chips Ross made for our friends last night. He also whipped up a blue cheese and honey dip that was completely addictive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Plus there was a comforting, filling, beef chili and fresh corn pudding. Oh. And pumpkin pie with real whipped cream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what you miss when you're not here on Friday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You also miss the warm fellowship and sometimes warmer discussions of friends who are also family. Don't get us started on Sarah Palin. Or teachers' salaries. Or epistemology. Or whatever got us all riled up last night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love our Friday nights. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today we went to RV school. We signed up for this when we thought we'd be a lot closer to buying an RV about now. It was still helpful and interesting. We'll get there, but it may be a few months later than we thought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7201018052555465877?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7201018052555465877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7201018052555465877' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7201018052555465877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7201018052555465877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/aren.html' title='Aren&apos;t they beautiful?'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SQPC1K604fI/AAAAAAAAAJg/DC3r0t-QA9k/s72-c/009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8278488067974773904</id><published>2008-10-18T23:07:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T23:27:48.511-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My civics lesson.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SPq28u9iWDI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dREAWQyjNmk/s1600-h/obama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258716669423015986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SPq28u9iWDI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dREAWQyjNmk/s320/obama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I finished jury duty Wednesday, so now I'm free to say anything I want about the case.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was quite interesting and it couldn't have been any easier. So all that dread about jury duty was totally wasted. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told you that I wasn't on a jury for a trial, but for an inquest. An inquest is an investigation, in a way -- but the investigating is done. They present all the witnesses and evidence to us, and the jury comes to a decision about the facts of the case. Any time a police officer is involved in a death, there's an inquest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This inquest was about a state trooper who had to shoot a man on the freeway last Christmas Day. The man got out of the car he was riding in, started pounding on the car behind his, ran onto the freeway, stopped traffic, took off his belt and waved it around hitting cars. His pants fell down. (People who called 911 said he was exposing himself, but that didn't seem to be the point -- he just appeared angry.) The first police officer on the scene shot him in the back with his tazer, but it didn't have any effect except maybe to enrage the man, who then charged the officer. They got into a scuffle where the man seemed to get the upper hand -- he grabbed the officer around the chest and hit him with his fist. The officer managed to break free, pulled his gun and shouted at the man to stop. Instead, the man charged him again and the officer shot and killed him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were a number of witnesses. We listened to half a dozen of them with very similar stories. The Department of Transportation cameras were turned on -- so we even saw video of the whole thing. It was all very, very thorough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After we were dismissed, I looked up the story online and realized that what you'd read about it wouldn't be totally accurate. Keep that in mind when you read the newspaper!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got my absentee ballot and voted today. So I'm feeling all civic duty-ish and self-congratulatory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please vote!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8278488067974773904?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8278488067974773904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8278488067974773904' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8278488067974773904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8278488067974773904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-civics-lesson.html' title='My civics lesson.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SPq28u9iWDI/AAAAAAAAAJY/dREAWQyjNmk/s72-c/obama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3404172529101052452</id><published>2008-10-13T23:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T23:07:56.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jury duty.</title><content type='html'>I can't really say anything. I'm on jury duty. I'll have to get back to you in a week when they let me talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say this much. I'm on an inquest jury, not a criminal or civil trial jury. That seems a lot better to me. I don't have to decide whether someone is guilty. Whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing that turns our life upside down is getting our hardwood floors refinished. We spent the weekend emptying out the living and dining rooms. It was nice to know it was possible to do in a weekend. (Although a lot of work.) Now I don't want to unpack it all.  Can we just ship everything to Mexico?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3404172529101052452?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3404172529101052452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3404172529101052452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3404172529101052452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3404172529101052452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/jury-duty.html' title='Jury duty.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6323107958744528944</id><published>2008-10-05T20:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T20:51:10.276-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Odds and ends.</title><content type='html'>Ross left on an overnight business trip this afternoon, so I'm doing a few odd jobs today. Like catch up with you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to dragon boat practice yesterday morning, and -- since it's been nearly a month -- I'm very, very sore today.  I take comfort that my soreness is all in my torso and not my shoulders.  That means I must be doing it right.  (Although I got a massage yesterday afternoon that focused on my neck and shoulders, so maybe that has something to do with my lack of soreness there.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to have a follow-up meeting with our realtor yesterday, but he canceled. He's done that a lot. I don't know if that means he's not excited or it's just (bad?) luck. I know we're not that excited right now. We keep thinking this is a bad time to sell -- but then we think, "Is it just going to get worse?" I'm quite sure that we won't be putting the house on the market until after the beginning of the year -- maybe spring or summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross started teaching a new class this morning on &lt;em&gt;Signs, Symbols and Mysteries of Christianity&lt;/em&gt;. He showed a lot of photos he took on our vacation, since we went to a lot of Roman ruins with many Christian symbols on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's everything about my odd weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6323107958744528944?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6323107958744528944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6323107958744528944' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6323107958744528944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6323107958744528944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/10/odds-and-ends.html' title='Odds and ends.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-322920436057343836</id><published>2008-09-30T20:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T20:26:34.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Bob.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SOLRv26VMdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0SvjFMiTEYU/s1600-h/DSCF9867.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251990735591649746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SOLRv26VMdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0SvjFMiTEYU/s320/DSCF9867.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we were gone, Bob had a run-in with a rose bush. He captured a thorn in his neck, and developed an abcess. Ouch! Looked like a goiter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross took him to the vet today and had it drained. Da boyz are afraid of the vet. But, apparently, Bob was very brave. Slick cried like a girl. I expect they'll both sleep well tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-322920436057343836?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/322920436057343836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=322920436057343836' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/322920436057343836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/322920436057343836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/poor-bob.html' title='Poor Bob.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SOLRv26VMdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/0SvjFMiTEYU/s72-c/DSCF9867.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1633215087606060547</id><published>2008-09-25T10:08:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T11:04:51.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The rest of the story.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNuvkrYGZ9I/AAAAAAAAAI0/Ya_TfApdUfU/s1600-h/007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249982835284404178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNuvkrYGZ9I/AAAAAAAAAI0/Ya_TfApdUfU/s320/007.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I didn't have access to the Internet until now and I didn't do a good job of writing down what we did every day, but here are the installments I did write . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dubrovnik, the first time.&lt;/strong&gt; (September 14.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So now we’re in Dubrovnik. That’s also in Croatia. But you knew that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went through about five kilometers of Bosnia-Herzegovina. (They have a little patch of land that gets them to the coast.) But we’re now safely back in the Croatian heartland. Well, the heartland is probably up near Zagreb somewhere. But here we are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were on a bus all day. So far, not much in the way of actual cruising for a cruise vacation. Our whole group is starting to chant, “where’s the boat?” But tomorrow is another bus ride. We don’t even get to see Dubrovnik yet, until later in the cruise. And Dubrovnik looks very cool. From the high-walled outside anyway. You know, we went all over Tuscany looking at these medieval cities . . . but they seem to be much better preserved here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent some time in a beautiful little walled city called Trogir today. It’s very complete. Yes, some of the outside towers are gone, but what a lot of other old stuff was saved. Gorgeous.&lt;br /&gt;It was hot and sunny up until this afternoon. Then it turned rainy and windy. Fortunately, I overpacked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other confusing thing is that we’re staying in the Hotel Argentina tonight. Thought that was on a whole different continent. Hmmm. It’s beautiful, but no Internet access. So I can’t really recommend it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Editorial comment: I didn't overpack. It got a little chilly in places and I used all the clothes I brought. I had forgotten how much we wanted to get on the boat . . . now we're very happy to be off of it. It was a little uncomfortable.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hvar&lt;/strong&gt;. (September 16.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today – Tuesday? – we were in Hvar, the town, on the island of Hvar. I’d like to come back here some day. Even found a hotel . . . the Villa Nora. Sweet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNuy1AFZmDI/AAAAAAAAAI8/yO7iH0dc5rQ/s1600-h/089.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249986414255904818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNuy1AFZmDI/AAAAAAAAAI8/yO7iH0dc5rQ/s320/089.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The town was wonderfully picturesque. We walked up and down the old town. It’s a Venetian era city. That’s kind of interesting because this area used to be known as Illyrium . . . and it was where Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night takes place. We saw Twelfth Night this summer in Seattle with our friends Todd and Linda. I didn’t even know Seattle had a free Shakespeare in the park tradition. But it does. And we finally took advantage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the afternoon sailing/motoring to Sibonek. I love looking at the sea and scenery as it passes, so I was out on deck for many hours. It was great. It did get kind of chilly once the sun started going down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Editorial comment: Those Illyrians were everywhere! Why haven't I heard of them? They sound like lovely, peaceful people. I'm embarrassed by my ignorance. Also . . . Hvar is my favorite. I'm going back.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One medieval town after another.&lt;/strong&gt; (September 20.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven’t been keeping up with this journal . . . so my memories are a bit faded already. Last time I wrote was about Hvar – which I still think is my favorite so far. But we also visited Sibonek and Dubrovnik after that. Dubrovnik is especially appealing at night, when the crowds die down a bit and the whole town is lit up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNu0DTWy2oI/AAAAAAAAAJE/1C9Hqm2kpig/s1600-h/Montenegro-Kotor+239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249987759458933378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNu0DTWy2oI/AAAAAAAAAJE/1C9Hqm2kpig/s320/Montenegro-Kotor+239.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today we’re in Kotor, Montenegro – our first time out of Croatia except for a few kilometers of Bosnia along the road. I’m going to say that Ross and I summitted Montenegro from now on, because we climbed up to the ruined fortress. It must be a mile up. It took an hour to climb. They say there are 1400 steps. It took 45 minutes to get down. It was harder to climb, but scarier coming down. My knees may never forgive me. Thank goodness it wasn’t an overly hot day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ve been doing a lot of fortress climbing. Yesterday we walked around the top of the walls of Dubrovnik. That involved plenty of steps. I believe it’s close to two kilometers of walking. We also canoed in Krka National Park earlier in the week. So this is a much more physically challenging vacation than most cruises we’ve gone on. I’m hoping it means I won’t go home five pounds heavier. But I’ve also been eating a lot of French fries, so I’m not holding my breath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Editorial comment: I'm still eating the French fries -- and the climbing part of the trip is officially over. Although we did get to the top of the Acropolis today.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ithaka&lt;/strong&gt;. (September 23.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We’re on the Greek island of Ithaka today. Not too many remnants of Odysseus around – but they talk about him a lot. I didn’t realize that many Greek islands around here (Ionian?) were devastated by a 1953 earthquake. So there isn’t much old around here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past two days we’ve been in Albania. It’s pretty sad there. The whole country is hoping to win the lottery. The most memorable thing about Albania is the garbage. They seem to just throw their trash out the window. The second most memorable thing is that they want to become a tourist destination. So they’re building a kajillion hotels—and they’re all empty or in the middle of construction. We kept saying to each other, “Pick up the garbage first, then invite people to come!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross and I did a little kayaking yesterday. In Albania. Huh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Up to the present. &lt;/strong&gt;(Now.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So yesterday we went to Delphi and saw the navel of the world. (Ross noted that the world has an outie.) Climbed to the top there, too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then we cruised through the Corinthian canal which was finished in the late 1800s. Before that, they'd unload everything from the boats and cart the boats across the isthmus. I feel like I learned about that in Latin class. Or maybe in Sunday School.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning, we landed in Athens and today we "did" the Acropolis, visited the Plaka (old town) and just hung out at the hotel all afternoon. Tomorrow we leave the hotel at 3 a.m. to catch a plane to Frankfurt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1633215087606060547?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1633215087606060547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1633215087606060547' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1633215087606060547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1633215087606060547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/rest-of-story.html' title='The rest of the story.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SNuvkrYGZ9I/AAAAAAAAAI0/Ya_TfApdUfU/s72-c/007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6542152042594228415</id><published>2008-09-13T11:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T11:43:49.185-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Split!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMvtWLVC51I/AAAAAAAAAIs/UWofwftiOm0/s1600-h/030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245547156257040210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMvtWLVC51I/AAAAAAAAAIs/UWofwftiOm0/s320/030.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It feels like we’ve been gone for weeks. We left on Wednesday for Croatia. Stopped in Chicago and Frankfurt. Met up with our friends there and then flew to Split. Slept on the plane . . . so showered and went to dinner when we landed.&lt;br /&gt;The next day we went out to see &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diocletian"&gt;Diocletian’s &lt;/a&gt;palace for a couple of hours on our own. That’s not quite as strange as it sounds, because the palace is really downtown Split. Met the rest of the boat people who came in early and had dinner at the hotel.&lt;br /&gt;This morning we took a 15-minute bus ride to an archeological site – the city of Salona, where we saw a lot of Roman era mausoleums and walls. This afternoon we had the tour of Diocletian’s palace.&lt;br /&gt;Okay . . . now that I’m done with the itinerary, I can move on. If I don’t get that down in writing immediately, I forget everything.&lt;br /&gt;Split is an industrial town, but we’re staying by the beach and we’re only a 15-minute walk from downtown (which is built into the 1700-year-old palace walls). The hotel and beach, complete with gorgeous palm trees, plus the heat and humidity, make me feel like I’m in a tropical paradise. The downtown, with all the high-end boutiques built into the ancient walls make me feel like I’m in Siena. They’re trying to make Split into a tourist destination – and it’s working for me. A lot of the rest of the area is kind of Soviet looking . . . but if you could live and work in Diocletian’s Palace, I think it’d be a cool place to live.&lt;br /&gt;We’ve done our share of walking today. I brought only two pairs of shoes and one of them started giving me blisters yesterday – so I’m glad the other pair worked for me today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6542152042594228415?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6542152042594228415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6542152042594228415' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6542152042594228415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6542152042594228415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/lets-split.html' title='Let&apos;s Split!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMvtWLVC51I/AAAAAAAAAIs/UWofwftiOm0/s72-c/030.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7574447474590492087</id><published>2008-09-06T21:07:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T21:30:43.988-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Under water.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMM3ghTpY4I/AAAAAAAAAIA/30womfVWVRU/s1600-h/under+water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243095423025505154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMM3ghTpY4I/AAAAAAAAAIA/30womfVWVRU/s320/under+water.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today was the first day of the first-ever Annual Seattle Dragon Boat Festival. My team managed to come in first in our first race. After that . . . it's hard telling how well we did because it's all about the time you make, not your place at the finish line. We raced in two 200-hundred-meter races and one 500-meter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was the 1,000-meter race. It wasn't a "real" race. It was billed as an exhibition race. While there were 21 teams, only 12 would be in the 1,000-meter race. Our team was one of the twelve. Ouch. Who wants to paddle for -- I don't know -- 5 or 6 minutes if you're really good and 7 if you're not so much?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our team found a clever way not to paddle for the full thousand meters. Overturn the boat at about 200 meters! Wow, we're smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not a swimmer. I hope I didn't panic a whole lot (although I know I panicked a little). My PFD (personal floatation device, the thing formerly known as a "life preserver") did its job and kept my head above water. Oh, I went all the way under, I'll have you know. But getting to the surface was no problem. Getting to the boat and hanging onto my paddle made a lot of sense -- and I did that without much thinking. There were rescue boats close by. I knew that and it helped. I lost a shoe . . . but it floated (!) and someone rescued it. Since I was a known non-swimmer, I got to be the second one into the rescue boat. And it was a nice warm day and the water was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I had brought a change of clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, other than the inconvenience and embarrassment, it was probably easier than actually paddling my heart out for six or seven minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How'd it happen? We got hit by a wave. If this had been a practice, we probably wouldn't have been oriented in a direction where a wave would broadside us. We'd angle into the waves or maybe go into them head on. I know for a fact we've practiced in much rougher water and didn't have even a close call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have at least three more races tomorrow. Call me crazy, but I'll be there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7574447474590492087?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7574447474590492087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7574447474590492087' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7574447474590492087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7574447474590492087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/under-water.html' title='Under water.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMM3ghTpY4I/AAAAAAAAAIA/30womfVWVRU/s72-c/under+water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4023506539792872751</id><published>2008-09-04T22:33:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T10:47:34.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy birthday, Daddy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMCouzCkI1I/AAAAAAAAAH4/WqqHUM_Rb8I/s1600-h/candles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242375488187671378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMCouzCkI1I/AAAAAAAAAH4/WqqHUM_Rb8I/s320/candles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my dad's 96th birthday. He told me all my life that my job was to keep him young in his old age. I have been claiming success for a long time now, and this year is no exception. I’m very proud of my accomplishment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is also the day my dad is saying goodbye to his sister, Ethel. Her funeral is this afternoon. She was 93 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My very earliest memory involves my Aunt Ethel. Here’s how I “remember” it – and if anyone else has a clearer memory of the occasion, chime right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were at my Grandma and Grandpa Hansen’s house, in the living room. My “toy” was going to be Aunt Ethel’s purse. (I was an explorer back then. Had to rummage through everything. Famous for overturning wastebaskets. My dog-faced children take after me.) I was a toddler – meaning, not so steady on my feet. Aunt Ethel’s purse outbalanced me and I sat down flat on my butt. Everyone looked at me, probably to see if I’d cry – and instead I came out with my mother’s favorite expression, “Oh happy day!” They all laughed. I was delighted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A star is born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here we are. Instead of this post being about Daddy, it’s all about me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4023506539792872751?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4023506539792872751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4023506539792872751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4023506539792872751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4023506539792872751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/happy-birthday-daddy_04.html' title='Happy birthday, Daddy!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SMCouzCkI1I/AAAAAAAAAH4/WqqHUM_Rb8I/s72-c/candles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1308137190289920074</id><published>2008-09-03T23:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T23:24:36.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Books and food.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SL9iqkyzSxI/AAAAAAAAAHo/U_BexucI5sg/s1600-h/Heat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SL9iqkyzSxI/AAAAAAAAAHo/U_BexucI5sg/s320/Heat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242016974853327634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I like reading about food almost as much as I like eating.  I’ve been talking about a book I finished last week to just about anyone who’ll listen, so I thought I’d recommend it here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s &lt;em&gt;Heat &lt;/em&gt;by Bill Buford, a memoir from a guy in his forties who’s been writing for the &lt;em&gt;New Yorker &lt;/em&gt;and decides to learn how to cook by apprenticing himself to a famous New York chef (who’s originally from Seattle, by the way).  The subtitle is &lt;strong&gt;An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read books by listening to them – so this one will forever remind me of learning how to ride the bus in Seattle, my new way of commuting.  The author has a wonderful, self-deprecating sense of humor that tickled me.  I tried hard not to laugh out loud while riding public transportation.  He writes like he’s a joke, but he must have taken this very seriously, because he was taken very seriously by the people around him.  (Apparently, once you cut up a carrot or chop an onion a thousand times, you get pretty good at it.)  He ends up going to Italy several times to get more training – including training as a butcher, which seems like it may be going a little too far, if you ask me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you like cooking, eating, reading and laughing, I can recommend this book.  Especially the audio version thereof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have  you read any good books lately?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1308137190289920074?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1308137190289920074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1308137190289920074' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1308137190289920074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1308137190289920074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/books-and-food.html' title='Books and food.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SL9iqkyzSxI/AAAAAAAAAHo/U_BexucI5sg/s72-c/Heat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4272800213453379152</id><published>2008-09-02T21:50:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T21:54:40.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Agreement signed.</title><content type='html'>The realtor just left and we have signed some kind of pre-agreement.  So we really are seriously going to sell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The adventure ahead is just so enticing that I can't be sad for the things we'll be leaving behind. But the people we'll miss is a whole different story. Which is why we're making plans for how we'll come back to Seattle and the rest of the country on a regular basis.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daydreaming is now about the RV as much as it is about Casa Gecko. I hope that's not a sign that I'm never satisfied . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4272800213453379152?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4272800213453379152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4272800213453379152' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4272800213453379152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4272800213453379152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/agreement-signed.html' title='Agreement signed.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7879605247624057332</id><published>2008-09-01T20:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T20:46:39.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLyXLbk8q9I/AAAAAAAAAHg/smOGTyOYOlM/s1600-h/dog+cookies+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLyXLbk8q9I/AAAAAAAAAHg/smOGTyOYOlM/s320/dog+cookies+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241230288989498322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross worked very hard today . . . he cut down a tree in our front yard and cleaned up all the dead plants up on our roof deck. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made dog cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He and I also brought five big bags of stuff to Goodwill. I must be 200 pounds lighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nephew Rick expressed skepticism about us fitting our Seattle house into a motor home. And all I want to say is . . . but you should see my closet!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand the question, though. One answer is that we both have electronic books. Plus, we had a LOT of bookshelves put into Casa Gecko. So whatever books we don't give away, we'll bring south and leave there.  The piano (and piano books) will go to Mexico, too. Furniture will be sold or given away. Except desks and the futon will be moved to Mexico. Oh, and the big TV and the DVDs go to Mexico. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yup. That's going to be one big moving van, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7879605247624057332?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7879605247624057332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7879605247624057332' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7879605247624057332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7879605247624057332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/09/cookies.html' title='Cookies!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLyXLbk8q9I/AAAAAAAAAHg/smOGTyOYOlM/s72-c/dog+cookies+001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7967939457340207719</id><published>2008-08-31T15:39:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T15:59:40.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Downsizing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLsB-LN0FPI/AAAAAAAAAHY/ekkNcHLzkrc/s1600-h/Hurricane+33T.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240784759049950450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLsB-LN0FPI/AAAAAAAAAHY/ekkNcHLzkrc/s320/Hurricane+33T.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We've talked to a realtor. So I guess this means we're serious. And we're seriously considering getting a motor home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is our way of tapering off from having two houses. We'll have one in Mexico and one on wheels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couple of reasons. One, we had a great time on our road trips to Mexico and back. The dogs seemed to have as much fun as we did -- and we didn't have to worry about them being left behind, wondering where we were. Two, we're going to want to come back to the States a lot. We talked about renting apartments for a month or two at a time -- but then you have to plan way ahead and find one that will take dogs. This way we'll be able to be much more flexible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend we went to the RV show and looked through dozens of motor homes. I talked Ross into considering a bigger one than he was thinking about. It wasn't that much more expensive, and it has a lot more to offer. We won't be able to buy it until we sell this house because we don't want to go into debt -- so that gives us a few more months to think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally finished unpacking. I had packed nearly everything I have (clothes and bathroom things) in boxes so Todd and Linda wouldn't have to work around my stuff. I've been living on what we brought back from Mexico for the last month. While I unpacked, I took the opportunity to throw things away and set clothes aside for Goodwill.  I have two large Hefty bags ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see that Ross has a large box of books to get rid of, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks like 2009 will be a very different year for us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7967939457340207719?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7967939457340207719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7967939457340207719' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7967939457340207719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7967939457340207719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/downsizing.html' title='Downsizing'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLsB-LN0FPI/AAAAAAAAAHY/ekkNcHLzkrc/s72-c/Hurricane+33T.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4370058866044846336</id><published>2008-08-25T21:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T22:12:05.359-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrate Life!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLNxuqtoTII/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9zZ7kKQDcFk/s1600-h/029.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLNxuqtoTII/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9zZ7kKQDcFk/s320/029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238655838115613826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this picture at Saturday's Celebrate Life! Dragon Boat Festival. (By the way, did you know you can click on these photos to make them bigger?) Ross and I paddled in three races with the Steele Dragons. It was a gorgeous day. And our team barely came in second to last in our division. Oh well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so sure we'd do great this year, since I spent all winter practicing and I was so obviously the worst paddler last year. But -- surprise! -- I guess it's not all about me after all!  Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cool thing is that Ross has decided to try going out with my regular team, &lt;a href="http://www.clubsake.com/VintageSake.html"&gt;Vintage Sake&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4370058866044846336?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4370058866044846336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4370058866044846336' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4370058866044846336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4370058866044846336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/celebrate-life.html' title='Celebrate Life!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SLNxuqtoTII/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9zZ7kKQDcFk/s72-c/029.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2161049032059229060</id><published>2008-08-19T00:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T00:26:08.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer's over.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKpZUX0H9HI/AAAAAAAAAHI/HVcMq2XSacU/s1600-h/grey+sky.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKpZUX0H9HI/AAAAAAAAAHI/HVcMq2XSacU/s320/grey+sky.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236095723296519282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yup. Those three nice weeks of Seattle summer have come to an end. I was out on the water tonight with the Steele Dragons (Anita's volunteer team for the Celebrate Life! Festival) -- and it was cold and dark and threatening to drizzle. But it was good to paddle. (The photo is from Flickr -- not mine.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross left today for Sacramento.  He's back on Wednesday.  Maybe &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;accounts for the dreariness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da boyz managed on their own till I got home at 8:15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been keeping up with this blog because work has been cRAzY!  I'm so far behind I can't imagine catching up. It's clear that out of sight is out of mind.  Now that they can see me, I'm late with all the projects they have for me. The best thing for me now is to go to bed and rest up, because tomorrow is another wacky day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2161049032059229060?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2161049032059229060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2161049032059229060' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2161049032059229060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2161049032059229060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/summers-over.html' title='Summer&apos;s over.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKpZUX0H9HI/AAAAAAAAAHI/HVcMq2XSacU/s72-c/grey+sky.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3282708650745345317</id><published>2008-08-16T20:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T20:39:34.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Recipes to die for.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKeBFsHSPOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/u5oJR7F0x8I/s1600-h/henbane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKeBFsHSPOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/u5oJR7F0x8I/s320/henbane.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235295026582535394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Read this in &lt;em&gt;The Week&lt;/em&gt;, one of my two favorite magazines, for August 15:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;British celebrity chef Antony Worrall Thompson said in a magazine article that “the weed henbane is great in salads.” Thompson later said he had confused henbane with a different plant that does not cause convulsions, vomiting, and death.&lt;/blockquote&gt;Think what he really wanted in his salad was rue?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3282708650745345317?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.theweekdaily.com/article/index/87884/3/3/Starfish_Skinny-dipping' title='Recipes to die for.'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3282708650745345317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3282708650745345317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3282708650745345317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3282708650745345317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/recipes-to-die-for.html' title='Recipes to die for.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SKeBFsHSPOI/AAAAAAAAAHA/u5oJR7F0x8I/s72-c/henbane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6663010429470081997</id><published>2008-08-06T22:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T22:50:19.944-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer fun.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJpw41IN5YI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Cmd3PRWur1c/s1600-h/dragon2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJpw41IN5YI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Cmd3PRWur1c/s320/dragon2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231618038780781954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing better than the three weeks of summer we get here in Seattle.  It was a perfect day today.  Highs were in the mid-80s, but you could always catch a breeze.  I had that lunch with a coworker that I mentioned yesterday . . . and we sat outdoors.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I went to my first dragon boat practice in three months.  It is an exercise in public humiliation for me.  But it feels so good when I stop.  The "endolphins" are what make me do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, it's a cheap way to get out on the water on a beautiful day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6663010429470081997?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6663010429470081997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6663010429470081997' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6663010429470081997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6663010429470081997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/summer-fun.html' title='Summer fun.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJpw41IN5YI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Cmd3PRWur1c/s72-c/dragon2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4686842602831048033</id><published>2008-08-05T22:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T23:04:58.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ya load sixteen tons and whaddya get?</title><content type='html'>This working thing cuts right through the middle of your day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm exhausted! No siesta today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that it's fun to get to go to a new work space.  And I like the &lt;em&gt;idea &lt;/em&gt;of working downtown, but I haven't had a chance to get out at all.  It's energizing to be in a different place.  Still just settling in.  Tomorrow I'm going out to lunch with a coworker, so that will feel a little more like I'm actually in Seattle.  Do you know that I haven't even looked at my car yet?  Ross says he saw it in the driveway, so I know it's here somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross got a lot of unpacking done.  I haven't been at all productive at home.  I'm just hoping I have enough work clothes available to make it through the week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4686842602831048033?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4686842602831048033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4686842602831048033' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4686842602831048033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4686842602831048033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/ya-load-sixteen-tons-and-whaddya-get.html' title='Ya load sixteen tons and whaddya get?'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6508606761291872054</id><published>2008-08-04T21:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T22:07:59.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to school.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJfD89DRYqI/AAAAAAAAAGo/YE8jENiO0-0/s1600-h/backtoschool3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJfD89DRYqI/AAAAAAAAAGo/YE8jENiO0-0/s320/backtoschool3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230864944161972898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was like freshman year of high school.  I'm in a new school . . . and I only know half my classmates.  (Where's my homeroom?  Is this French 101?)  Plus, I took the bus.  At least in high school, you know the stop where you should get off.  And you don't have to ask how to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could at least tell I had been missed.  I started meetings at around 9:30 and by noon had more work than I could possibly get done by the deadlines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Welcome back.  You're late."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure I'm going to have dreams about going to my final exams and realizing I hadn't attended class the whole semester.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6508606761291872054?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6508606761291872054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6508606761291872054' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6508606761291872054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6508606761291872054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/back-to-school.html' title='Back to school.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SJfD89DRYqI/AAAAAAAAAGo/YE8jENiO0-0/s72-c/backtoschool3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4508919809202169866</id><published>2008-08-03T20:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T20:29:32.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sea level.</title><content type='html'>We made it back! We arrived around 4:30 p.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we started in Montana, cut through the panhandle of Idaho and took the long tour of the great state of Washington.  We saw lots of wonderful scenery.  I think Western Washington is the prettiest part of the world.  In August.  In the sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house looks lighter and brighter than I remember it.  Possibly it's that August sunshine effect.  Or maybe it's that some our stuff is still hidden in closets.  Todd and Linda took great care of the place.  My mail was even sorted!  It took me 15 minutes to look through it.  Normally, after being gone a couple of weeks, it takes three days.  What a wonderful thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs are resting between bouts of sniffing everything.  I can imagine them thinking, "This place looks familiar, but it sure smells different.  Is that &lt;em&gt;cat&lt;/em&gt;?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing a little laundry so I'll have something appropriate to wear to work tomorrow.  Hmmm.  Real clothes, not stretchy yoga pants.  Real shoes, not flip-flops.  Makeup.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I remember why I want to work at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be seeing most of the folks who read this blog in real life soon -- so I don't know if I'll keep writing.  If I do, I won't be hurt if you don't want to check in on it anymore.  As long as we continue to check in with each other, I'm fine with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4508919809202169866?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4508919809202169866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4508919809202169866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4508919809202169866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4508919809202169866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/sea-level.html' title='Sea level.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3551903338668185390</id><published>2008-08-02T20:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T20:41:12.341-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe more than a mile high.</title><content type='html'>This was the fastest, easiest day yet.  We're in Bozeman.  It's probably a very nice city.  It's a university town, isn't it?  But we're at a Best Western just off the freeway . . . so we don't know.  That's okay.  Just happy to be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took I-25 to I-90 . . . so we really must be on the home stretch.  I-90 starts (or ends?) in Seattle.  We saw the beginning of I-94 during the drive today.  I'm sentimental. I waved to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wyoming, from I-25 anyway, is more interesting than, say, Kansas . . . but stick it between Colorado and Montana and it suffers by comparison. Most of it looks completely uninhabited.  I always heard that Montana had the lowest population density of any state -- but, along our route, it's got farmland anyway.  Wyoming had not much.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was very fun were (was?) the silhouettes.  In Mexico, there's a (relatively) common billboard that's a cutout of an ENORMOUS bull.  You see it at the top of a hill from miles away and think . . . whoa!  That's big.  In Wyoming, we saw a buffalo.  (Um-hmmmm.) Then a cowboy on a horse. (Huh!)  Then the Indian on a horse. (Awww.) Then a jackalope. (Hahahhaha!)  Then a triceratops. (HAH!) A state with very few people and a big sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm done with parentheses for this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, we'll be home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3551903338668185390?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3551903338668185390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3551903338668185390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3551903338668185390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3551903338668185390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/maybe-more-than-mile-high.html' title='Maybe more than a mile high.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5955779168544333299</id><published>2008-08-01T22:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T22:41:09.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mile high.</title><content type='html'>We're in a Sheraton in Denver now.  We started a little late.  We drove north from Las Cruces through Albuquerque (ugly) to Santa Fe (looks kinda new) and then took a detour up through Taos.  Neither of us had been there.  What a pretty drive.  Pretty town, too.  You have to really like beige.  Okay, that was sarcastic Carolyn.  Down, girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sheraton is probably nicer than last night's hotel . . . but it's HUGE.  The hotel last night felt a little homier.  And, of course, we got to know the waiter guy quite well.  The woman who brought room service tonight was very nice as well -- but she didn't come to our room three times because our power was out.  She used to have a dog.  A boxer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs were great again today.  It's amazing how riding in the truck all day wears them out as much as it does us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far we've been through nine states . . . Colorado, New Mexico, a tiny corner of Texas, Chihuahua, Aguascalientes, Jalisco, Zacatecas, Durango and Zaragoza -- not necessarily in that order.  I've never been to Wyoming or Montana.  That's tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5955779168544333299?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5955779168544333299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5955779168544333299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5955779168544333299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5955779168544333299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/08/mile-high.html' title='Mile high.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-232648350869633343</id><published>2008-07-31T21:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T21:38:11.979-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the USA.</title><content type='html'>We are now in the Best Western in Las Cruces, New Mexico.  Watching &lt;em&gt;Burn Notice&lt;/em&gt; on the USA Network.  Funny thing.  We have Canadian satellite TV in Mexico . . . and Canadian satellite TV doesn't have USA Network.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got an even later start this morning -- and got a little lost getting out of Torreon.  We didn't arrive here until 6:30.  Except we got an hour back because we're now on Mountain Time.  It was really 5:30.  Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We barely stopped on the way, so there's not a lot to say about the drive.  We moved into desert.  We drove through Chihuahua.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took about an hour to get through the line in customs -- but once we hit the front of the line, we got though in a minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hotel is only about 45 minutes from the border.  They have a restaurant attached (Tres Amigos) and the hotel is dog friendly . . . so, who could resist?  They're really, really dog friendly.  I already don't like the barky little dogs next door.  I'm not complaining.  Honest!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were here about a minute and it started pouring.  We were here about 20 minutes and heard thunder.  After 30 minutes, we lost power.  But at least they have windows that open, or we'd cook.  Ross had to go to the restaurant to order dinner, because the phone didn't work.  The poor waiter guy had to come here twice for clarification, because the phone didn't work.  About a minute after he brought our salads, the power came back.  Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da boyz are SO good at traveling.  And sitting in a truck all day seems to make them as tired as it does us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, Denver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-232648350869633343?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/232648350869633343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=232648350869633343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/232648350869633343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/232648350869633343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/back-in-usa.html' title='Back in the USA.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2895011554814285965</id><published>2008-07-30T16:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T16:43:03.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On the road.</title><content type='html'>We got to the Torreon Marriott in record time -- about two and a half hours sooner than Streets and Trips said it would take.  They didn't know about the new toll road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started out just 15 minutes later than intended -- 6:15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went past (but not exactly "through") Zapotlanejo, Racine's sister city,right after leaving Guadalajara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, the scenery is even more beautiful than when we came down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went through a city, Aguascalientes, that was much more modern than the cities we're used to.  And all the countryside is very clean -- no trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The toll roads are amazing.  You can go very, very fast.  There aren't that many other people on them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross made us breakfast and lunch.  Egg salad sandwiches.  (We had a lot of eggs left yesterday.)  At lunch time, he just pulled over to the side of the road and got the stuff out of the cooler and started making sandwiches.  The Green Angels stopped to see if we were okay.  So they're not a myth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Marriott is beautiful.  A little hard to find.  It's also expensive.  It was the only hotel in town that said they'd take dogs.  So I guess it's reasonable when you divide the bill by four.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2895011554814285965?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2895011554814285965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2895011554814285965' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2895011554814285965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2895011554814285965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/on-road.html' title='On the road.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1214757025269148521</id><published>2008-07-29T18:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T18:22:02.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Packing.</title><content type='html'>Packing up for the return trip is a lot easier than packing for the stay here.  We're leaving a ton of stuff.  I'm bring back some clothes that I never wore because it was too hot for them here.  I keep thinking . . . should I just leave them?  But I may need them in Seattle.  I guess.  And we're driving, so no one will charge me $15 for my extra bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll be taking off early-early tomorrow.  I hope I get a connection tomorrow night.  We're staying at a Marriott (I think) in Torreone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1214757025269148521?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1214757025269148521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1214757025269148521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1214757025269148521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1214757025269148521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/packing.html' title='Packing.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-242443824825842335</id><published>2008-07-27T09:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T10:01:55.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Restaurant Number 4.</title><content type='html'>We have a very trendy new restaurant in town.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means we all have something new to talk about!  Whoohoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, since most of the English-speakers here are Canadian, we've had more conversations about Restaurant Number 4 than about Barack Obama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like every other restaurant here, it's indoor/outdoor.  Other than that, you could see it thriving in New York or San Francisco.  (Oh, if only those cities had better weather!)  It's really gorgeous.  The piano bar provides elegant, live background music.  The linens are linen, not paper.  The avocado tree in the courtyard is dripping with fruit.  The booths in the back are lined in velvet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's more, the food is fantastic.  It's elegant Italian.  Very yummy.  And I dare you to get a better filet mignon anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one has a problem with any of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversations are about the prices.  They are higher than anywhere else in Ajijic.  Shocking!  They're not New York prices, or even Seattle prices.  But some vocal people have a problem with paying $10 for a plate of pasta.  Even if it is handmade pasta with prawns the size of your fist.  Served by a very well-trained waitstaff.  (It seems like you get two waiters per customer.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway . . . it's kind of amusing how seriously these folks take this.  I guess it's upsetting to have a restaurant in town that you feel you can't afford.  But does that mean the restaurant should lower its prices for you?  If the prices are too high for everyone, they'll go out of business.  No need to take it personally.  But some people are furious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, it seems like there are plenty of people going there and enjoying it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trendy part: It has a unisex bathroom.  I haven't run into this in Seattle.  Only on &lt;em&gt;Ally McBeal&lt;/em&gt;.  I was washing my hands and a guy walked in . . . looked at me . . . looked confused . . . I had to say, "Yes, you're in the right place."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-242443824825842335?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/242443824825842335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=242443824825842335' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/242443824825842335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/242443824825842335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/restaurant-number-4.html' title='Restaurant Number 4.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-9030280256456654954</id><published>2008-07-25T11:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T12:02:00.134-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brownout.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIoFd041AcI/AAAAAAAAAGI/IsjAjQH9AFQ/s1600-h/lightning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIoFd041AcI/AAAAAAAAAGI/IsjAjQH9AFQ/s320/lightning.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226996327488225730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't take this picture.  (Like you might have thought I did! Ha!)  I found it on Flickr.  It was taken in Cypress in 2006, but it looks a lot like what happened here last night.  I didn't know light could hurt your eyes when you had them closed!  I could still count to five before the thunder, but the noise was almost painful as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't completely lose power . . . but what happened was odd.  When we got up, half the outlets had no electricity, the other half were on half power.  For some things that might as well be none.  It all came back an hour ago -- before I had to start worrying about the stuff in the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the whole thing made Ross very unhappy because he's cooking for several guests tonight.  The stove and oven are gas (propane, actually), but he has a lot of power tools in the kitchen, not just his workshop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-9030280256456654954?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9030280256456654954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=9030280256456654954' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9030280256456654954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9030280256456654954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/brownout.html' title='Brownout.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIoFd041AcI/AAAAAAAAAGI/IsjAjQH9AFQ/s72-c/lightning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-817925843491200560</id><published>2008-07-23T16:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T18:08:45.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being green.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIe5uBahfXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/tzVkpH9-zBA/s1600-h/DSC_0017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIe5uBahfXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/tzVkpH9-zBA/s320/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226350092891553138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't normally talk about work on this blog . . . but today we got an article in &lt;em&gt;The New York Times&lt;/em&gt;!  This is a big deal for us.  It's about the Green Marketing Coalition we started. I've been getting some phone calls and emails. Not an overwhelming amount. But still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I give you the link to it, I have to warn you that they mock us a little.  Direct mail and the environment don't go together in people's minds.  This just shows we're trying to do our part and lots of others aren't.  So there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs think it's pretty cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/23/business/media/23adco.html?_r=1&amp;amp;ref=media&amp;amp;oref=slogin"&gt;here &lt;/a&gt;it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-817925843491200560?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/817925843491200560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=817925843491200560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/817925843491200560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/817925843491200560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/being-green.html' title='Being green.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SIe5uBahfXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/tzVkpH9-zBA/s72-c/DSC_0017.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7822726815529728395</id><published>2008-07-20T21:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T22:02:51.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Los Restaurantes</title><content type='html'>I've been doing a little math in my head. Yes, Randy, I'm probably going to need your help again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They tell me about 2,000 to 3,000 gringos live here in Ajijic/Chapala. And I know for a fact we have close to 100 restaurants that cater to Norte Americanos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask me how I know this. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's because they list them all at &lt;a href="http://www.ajijiccityguide.com/"&gt;AjijicCityGuide.com&lt;/a&gt; -- your source for everything that's happening here. Except the weather. I gave you that link already. And I, being a complete geek, have created my own (updated) Excel spreadsheet, complete with hours of operation. So this morning, when Ross asks, "What's open for breakfast on Sunday?" I can answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooooooo anyway. This morning, breakfast for the two of us (including coffee) cost $6 at Restaurant Jardin Plaza -- a nice, very popular place, right on the square. I feel kinda cheap leaving only a $2 tip, but what do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do these 100 -- give or take -- restaurants make it? Say the average couple eats out ten times a week. That's 20 meals. Say the average meal is $10. That's $200 per week per couple -- or $100 per week per person. If there are 3,000 people spending $100 a week, that's $300,000 a week. I think that averages out to about $150,000/year per restaurant, gross. Now take out the cost of the food, rent and labor . . . and how in the world does that pencil?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They must make it up on the drinks. When coffee isn't already included, of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7822726815529728395?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7822726815529728395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7822726815529728395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7822726815529728395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7822726815529728395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/los-restaurantes.html' title='Los Restaurantes'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3672886494324318582</id><published>2008-07-17T10:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T10:10:25.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Roomba.</title><content type='html'>One thing about a house with tile floors . . . when it needs cleaning you should be able to just hose it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, as I was getting all my ingredients together for the dogs' dinner, the oatmeal container went flying.  I'm lazy and didn't want to sweep it up.  So I went to the closet for the vacuum cleaner.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I returned, both dogs were cleaning up for me!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm going to start calling Bob "Hoover" and Slick "Roomba."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3672886494324318582?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3672886494324318582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3672886494324318582' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3672886494324318582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3672886494324318582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/roomba.html' title='Roomba.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2979123935416915923</id><published>2008-07-14T18:12:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T18:27:53.878-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Another vet visit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHvgzlwUtSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/3kEiHDYrJ4U/s1600-h/001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHvgzlwUtSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/3kEiHDYrJ4U/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223015369778967842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought Slick to another vet this morning. He had a rough weekend. He got a cortisone shot today -- so we're hoping that fixes things. The vet thinks it's just a muscle spasm, not a spine problem. I'd kind of like to see an x-ray -- but Dr. Aguilar says it's not necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of da boyz have lost weight on my meatloaf diet. I measure it out quite strictly. They needed to lose a couple of pounds, but now I think it's time for "maintenance" as they say in Weight Watchers.  That means . . . more cookies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross is starting to work on the plans for our trip back.  Can you believe it?  Just three more weeks.  We'll be taking a different route north than the one we came down on -- and taking a little longer, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also have to figure out what to do with Casa Gecko while we're gone.  We don't really want to rent it out.  Too bad there's no one we know here who temporarily needs a place to stay while they're looking for a permanent place.  (But I guess that's unrealistic.)  We're going to talk to a management company that will pay our bills.  And maybe we'll need to come back a couple times to see how it's going here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2979123935416915923?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2979123935416915923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2979123935416915923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2979123935416915923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2979123935416915923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/another-vet-visit.html' title='Another vet visit.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHvgzlwUtSI/AAAAAAAAAF4/3kEiHDYrJ4U/s72-c/001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5103374149614686460</id><published>2008-07-13T20:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T20:54:25.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nancy Who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222679394991065682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHqvPSIxylI/AAAAAAAAAFo/EMp5F-1aFBE/s320/Nancydrew.jpg" border="0" /&gt;It isn't a mystery that I loved Nancy Drew as a kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, Nita, and I were just talking about White's Bookstore, where much of my collection was bought.  I remember the great consternation when the price of a hardcover Nancy Drew (the yellow spines) went from $1 to $1.25.  Talk about inflation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year they came out with a Nancy Drew movie.  It took me until today to see it because (naturally) I waited till it came out on video.  (You've heard me rant about U.S. movie theaters enough already.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a cute movie, but it wasn't Nancy Drew.  Neither was the TV series I watched when I was a teenager.  This Nancy was an obsessive-compulsive smarty-pants who couldn't make friends at her new school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the book, Nancy was excellent in everything she attempted -- ballet, acting, playing the bagpipes, whatever -- but not obnoxious, and she never, ever went to school.  Oh, she had her detractors.  Occasionally, other girls might be jealous -- but they always turned out to be bad guys.  Most people thought Nancy was pretty swell and they wanted to be her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did anyone else see this movie?  Didja like it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5103374149614686460?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5103374149614686460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5103374149614686460' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5103374149614686460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5103374149614686460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/nancy-who.html' title='Nancy Who?'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHqvPSIxylI/AAAAAAAAAFo/EMp5F-1aFBE/s72-c/Nancydrew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3280112134370958913</id><published>2008-07-12T16:14:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T16:34:52.825-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lupita's chicken.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHkfWwh4arI/AAAAAAAAAFY/AA58Lbi-rqk/s1600-h/Lupita+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222239718757395122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHkfWwh4arI/AAAAAAAAAFY/AA58Lbi-rqk/s320/Lupita+002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Everyone (well, nearly everyone) tells you not to be too adventurous about food in Mexico. Having gotten &lt;em&gt;turista&lt;/em&gt; a few times my own self, I understand the sentiment. But what's the point of being in Mexico if you're going to eat like an American?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating Lupita's is not exactly daring in these parts. Her roasted chicken is highly recommended by the Canadians and Americans we've met. Plus, everyone standing in line in front of us today was clearly Mexicano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you wouldn't see this process in the states. The roaster is outdoors. The sauce container is a plastic garbage can. The end of the big rotisserie skewer is resting on the dirty concrete as chickens are being pinned on them, just about three feet away from us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It cost about $7 for a chicken, which I think is more than you pay for a roasted chicken at Costco nowadays -- but I'm guessing this one didn't have salt water injected into it. Plus, for some reason, we got a chicken and a half. A sale, maybe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHkiVjDDZiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/wByePem5bCc/s1600-h/Lupita+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222242996493444642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHkiVjDDZiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/wByePem5bCc/s320/Lupita+001.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This photo is a little blurry, but I was trying to be sly and look a little less like a tourist, so I shot from the hip (literally) and didn't focus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the chicken was as good as I'd hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week, I promise I'm going to try the roasted corn from the woman who shows up around 3 p.m. at the end of our block.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3280112134370958913?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3280112134370958913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3280112134370958913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3280112134370958913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3280112134370958913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/lupitas-chicken.html' title='Lupita&apos;s chicken.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHkfWwh4arI/AAAAAAAAAFY/AA58Lbi-rqk/s72-c/Lupita+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7657695612093946080</id><published>2008-07-10T13:04:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T13:50:58.560-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The rainy season.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHZZsMHNuHI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9gCEnyBVqu4/s1600-h/rainy+season.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221459433683269746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHZZsMHNuHI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9gCEnyBVqu4/s320/rainy+season.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've listened to me brag about living in Mexico for more than, oh, half a minute, you've heard me talk about how the weather is always beautiful and spring-like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past two months, we've experienced many, many more seasons than just spring. I don't feel bad about this. After all, this is why we came down here before rashly selling our home in Seattle. We needed to see what it was &lt;em&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;like here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived, we quickly learned it was &lt;strong&gt;palmetto bug season&lt;/strong&gt;. Palmetto bugs look like overgrown cockroaches. Like cockroaches, they're a little horrifying and they move really, really fast. They respond best to a great big stomp of the shoe -- which was nice, because by the time we got the big cans of Raid, palmetto bug season was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next came &lt;strong&gt;dust season&lt;/strong&gt;. The Spanish word for dust is "polvo." This is a handy word to know if you're going to communicate with your housekeeper. It also helps at the grocery store. "Polvo de horno" . . . dust of the oven . . . baking powder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we had &lt;strong&gt;construction season&lt;/strong&gt;. This is like a plague of locusts, only it's a lot of workers crawling all over your house, creating lots and lots of polvo. Yes, these two seasons generally overlap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just on the heels of construction, we had &lt;strong&gt;mosquito/bobo season&lt;/strong&gt;. Bobos are harmless, but annoying, mosquito lookalikes. We saw billions of them. We knew a couple of them were actually mosquitoes, because we got the bites to prove it. Fortunately, mosquito season seems to last about as long as palmetto bug season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thunderstorm season &lt;/strong&gt;came next. John and Anita were here for this one. Very, very loud and dramatic. I thought it would continue for our entire time here -- but it seems to be over. (Unless I'm sleeping through them.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Housefly season&lt;/strong&gt; came upon us and lasted long enough for us to buy flyswatters. Between us, Ross and I killed seven or eight flies in one afternoon. Now they seem to be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're now about a week into the &lt;strong&gt;rainy season&lt;/strong&gt;. We're having an unusual one. The average rainfall for July is nine inches. As of today, the 10th, we've had 8.59 inches. We've had 2.08 inches in the last 24 hours. Ross went out this morning and said the streets were like rivers. Yesterday he went upstairs to the studio and one of the drains was plugged and we had several inches sitting up there. He immediately dubbed it &lt;em&gt;Lake Mirador&lt;/em&gt;. Fortunately, nothing leaked into the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's now been raining long enough for me to learn the Spanish word for it: lluvia. Our cute little &lt;a href="http://www.chapalaweather.net/"&gt;Lake Chapala Weather website &lt;/a&gt;is now saying: "Stop the lluvia -- no mas, por favor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What could possibly be next? I'm quite sure there's no fire season here . . . unless one of the volcanoes erupts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7657695612093946080?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7657695612093946080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7657695612093946080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7657695612093946080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7657695612093946080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/rainy-season.html' title='The rainy season.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHZZsMHNuHI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9gCEnyBVqu4/s72-c/rainy+season.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7188797064334678525</id><published>2008-07-09T11:13:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T11:31:14.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thar be dragons.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHTj9FOXlCI/AAAAAAAAAFA/UdIwUZmNxu4/s1600-h/Dragon+boat+in+parade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221048506543215650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHTj9FOXlCI/AAAAAAAAAFA/UdIwUZmNxu4/s320/Dragon+boat+in+parade.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I promised Brother-in-Law Ted's dragon boat photos when I got them -- and they turned out great! Isn't this a colorful float? Doesn't it make you want to get out on the water and paddle?&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know if this were the Vintage Sake team in the parade, they'd be air-paddling. Dena would be coaching us from the front. (I'd be frantically hiding from her in the back.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If this sounds tempting to you (not the hiding . . . the paddling!), and you'll be in Seattle in August, you can join Anita's team, the Steele Dragons for the Celebrate Life Festival.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHTluuv3euI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Iddoxplkkfo/s1600-h/dragon+boat+festival+in+parade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221050459014789858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHTluuv3euI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Iddoxplkkfo/s320/dragon+boat+festival+in+parade.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Or, if you're in Racine this week, you could check out the &lt;a href="http://www.midwestdragonboatfestival.com/"&gt;Great Midwest Dragon Boat Festival&lt;/a&gt;! According to their website, it was voted the #1 event in Racine County! (Better than last week's parade? Wow.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7188797064334678525?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7188797064334678525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7188797064334678525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7188797064334678525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7188797064334678525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/thar-be-dragons.html' title='Thar be dragons.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHTj9FOXlCI/AAAAAAAAAFA/UdIwUZmNxu4/s72-c/Dragon+boat+in+parade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8072942951417835139</id><published>2008-07-08T15:29:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T15:54:01.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules of the road.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHPTOA2b1pI/AAAAAAAAAE4/9AbP4TLlYHw/s1600-h/yield.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220748630752482962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHPTOA2b1pI/AAAAAAAAAE4/9AbP4TLlYHw/s320/yield.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to my family this weekend about driving in Mexico and realized it's a bit different from what we're used to in the US of A. Let me 'splain you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In El Norte, driving is an &lt;em&gt;individual &lt;/em&gt;sport. He who ends up in the front of the line, wins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Mexico, driving is a &lt;em&gt;team &lt;/em&gt;sport. Let's all keep moving the best we can. If it means some people will be driving on the shoulder, so be it. Avoid hitting each other. If everyone makes it to our respective destinations in one piece, we all win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This distinction -- team vs. individual -- gives us the most confusing aspect of Mexican driving for the Norte Americano/a: the use of signals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the U.S. (except Texas), we "signal our intentions." In an individual sport, however, signals give too much information to the enemy -- so Texans don't use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Mexico, we use signals to tell others what they can safely do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means, what Americans would call a "left turn signal" means "it's now safe to pass me on the left." If it actually meant I was going to turn, I'd already be in the left-hand lane. (Yes, I'd be driving in the lane with all the cars coming toward us.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I've gotten bad information from the driver in front of me and I'm passing -- but you're hurtling toward me at 90 kph -- &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; are expected to head for the shoulder so that I can safely pass the slowpoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What Americans call "hazard lights" are also used differently here, i.e., defensively. In the U.S., you turn those on when you're parked someplace unexpected and potentially dangerous. You've had a flat and you're on the side of a two-lane highway, for example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Mexico, hazard lights are more of an &lt;em&gt;offensive &lt;/em&gt;tool, used while driving. It means, "I'm coming up on something going very slow, or stopped. Don't you rear-end me! I'm signalling you -- so it'll be your fault if you do!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An arm waving out the drivers' side window usually means much the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many rules of the road are considered suggestions here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speed limits? Just don't get caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passing on the right? No problema.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop sign? Slow down and proceed with caution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, I like the more relaxed approach here in Mexico. It seems to keep everyone moving with a lot less tension. But, philosophically, it may be too fatalistic. Probably a little of both styles would work best in the long run.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8072942951417835139?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8072942951417835139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8072942951417835139' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8072942951417835139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8072942951417835139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/rules-of-road.html' title='Rules of the road.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHPTOA2b1pI/AAAAAAAAAE4/9AbP4TLlYHw/s72-c/yield.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8317354531884645100</id><published>2008-07-07T20:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T20:38:49.059-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Walk this way.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHLD7B31_MI/AAAAAAAAAEw/KgjSseJ0Z1c/s1600-h/Lake+Chapala+without+lirios.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHLD7B31_MI/AAAAAAAAAEw/KgjSseJ0Z1c/s320/Lake+Chapala+without+lirios.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220450336958184642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went for a walk today.  That was one of the things I meant to do every day once I got down here -- and this is probably the fourth or fifth time I've done it.  Take a look at that gorgeous photo.  The Lake Chapala area is a beautiful place to walk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took that picture several weeks ago.  Today it was overcast and threatening and very hot and extremely humid.  I tend to brag about the weather here, but today was nothing to brag about.  It was the worst of all possible summer weather scenarios.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a little guilty walking without the boys -- they love it so much and I hate walking with them.  They just make it so hard when we meet other dogs.  Maybe I can find a time when all smart dogs are taking a siesta.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have about four more weeks here.  Let's see if I can pick up the pace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8317354531884645100?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8317354531884645100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8317354531884645100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8317354531884645100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8317354531884645100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/walk-this-way.html' title='Walk this way.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SHLD7B31_MI/AAAAAAAAAEw/KgjSseJ0Z1c/s72-c/Lake+Chapala+without+lirios.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8111437967943317595</id><published>2008-07-05T16:23:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T16:42:21.495-05:00</updated><title type='text'>4th of July Parade</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_o_77OzlI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rry02rvk6h0/s1600-h/Fourth+of+July+009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_o_77OzlI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rry02rvk6h0/s320/Fourth+of+July+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219646678261222994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_pi6izT6I/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y6QIKxLoHTI/s1600-h/Fourth+of+July+011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_pi6izT6I/AAAAAAAAAEg/Y6QIKxLoHTI/s320/Fourth+of+July+011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219647279185743778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;According to &lt;em&gt;USA Today&lt;/em&gt;, the second biggest 4th of July parade is in Racine, Wisconsin.  (The biggest is in Washington, D.C.)  I don't remember how long it's been since I've gone.  But this year, my sisters and I made it.  My sister, Elaine, had a friend save us a prime section of sidewalk along the route.  It was great!  Many parts of it were exactly as I remember.  The differences:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  I don't remember anyone drinking beer at 8 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;2.  No one was selling helium balloons.&lt;br /&gt;3.  No one was selling ice cream bars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_pjU3ng4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/zlnpiU8B36E/s1600-h/Fourth+of+July+022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_pjU3ng4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/zlnpiU8B36E/s320/Fourth+of+July+022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219647286252372866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One of the cool parts of the parade for us was the section from Zapotlanejo, Racine's new sister city -- that happens to be in Jalisco state, near Guadalajara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another highlight was the Dragon Boat Team float -- but my camera battery had died by then, so I don't have a photo yet.  (Brother-in-law Ted is going to send me one.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the parade, we had burgers at my brother's house.  When it got dark, my sister, Anita, and I braved the world famous Wisconsin mosquitoes and went to the lakefront to watch the fireworks.  Not quite a spectacular a production as watching the Seattle show from John's penthouse deck, but very nice . . . and the getaway was a lot faster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8111437967943317595?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8111437967943317595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8111437967943317595' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8111437967943317595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8111437967943317595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/4th-of-july-parade.html' title='4th of July Parade'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SG_o_77OzlI/AAAAAAAAAEY/rry02rvk6h0/s72-c/Fourth+of+July+009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4964629281730113512</id><published>2008-07-01T14:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T14:49:54.944-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chestertonian Twins</title><content type='html'>Great photo from the American Chesterton Society Conference.  They linked to my blog, so now I'm returning the favor!  (Just click on the title of this post to go there.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4964629281730113512?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://americanchestertonsociety.blogspot.com/2008/06/chestertonian-twins.html' title='Chestertonian Twins'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4964629281730113512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4964629281730113512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4964629281730113512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4964629281730113512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/chestertonian-twins.html' title='Chestertonian Twins'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8583048203592679665</id><published>2008-07-01T08:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T09:09:29.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Foreign movies.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGo39YaXq4I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/-qfN6G3trRQ/s1600-h/cinemaslago70px.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGo39YaXq4I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/-qfN6G3trRQ/s320/cinemaslago70px.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218044645926742914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the movies again last night.  We saw &lt;em&gt;Hulk: El Hombre Increible&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like &lt;em&gt;Indiana Jones&lt;/em&gt;, this one was in English and subtitled in Spanish.  Except for when The Hulk was in Brazil and it was in Portuguese, subtitled in Spanish.  Or when he moved up to Guatemala and Chiapas, when it was in Spanish with no subtitles at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew you needed to be such a linguistic master to watch such a silly movie.  (I think we got the idea without knowing exactly what was said.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, we stumbled into karaoke night at one of our neighborhood restaurants.  I will leave you with the line that is still running in my head this morning, from the last song we heard, because it's exactly how I feel about you:  "You are so beeeYOOOOOOOOOOOOteeful, and I have loved you dearly.  More dearly than the spoken word can tell."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8583048203592679665?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8583048203592679665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8583048203592679665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8583048203592679665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8583048203592679665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/07/foreign-movies.html' title='Foreign movies.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGo39YaXq4I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/-qfN6G3trRQ/s72-c/cinemaslago70px.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2629805130058786967</id><published>2008-06-30T08:12:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T12:31:33.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No (r)egrets.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGjdlWJCBGI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ob-_ivmio7o/s1600-h/001a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGjdlWJCBGI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ob-_ivmio7o/s320/001a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217663801977078882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a lot of strange wildlife around here. If you look up Lake Chapala in Wikipedia, you're told this is a critical habitat for migratory birds, such as White Pelicans.  I've never seen a pelican here -- but maybe this is just a quick stop on a long migration and I've missed it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we have are egrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Egrets are lovely.  They look quite elegant standing alone, ankle deep in water -- or in graceful flight.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're a bit like the silent movie stars who had voices like nails scratching a blackboard.  Once you hear them, they never really look the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross asked Chuy what they were, and he said the locals call them "dog birds."  And I don't think he meant "dog" in a good way.  They're big.  They end up sitting together in one large tree in a neighborhood and talking.  All.  The.  Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photo here is too small to see them clearly -- but that's definitely their neighborhood tree, as seen from our terrace. I'm sure it's quite a mess below it. (If you're really, really interested, you can click on the photo to enlarge it.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We call them the Jub-Jub Birds. The basic philosophy of the Jub-Jub is: "Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub.  Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub. Jub."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a tonal language. As long as the tone sounds off-key and irritating, you're doing it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversations are long and wearisome.  They tend to have cocktail parties long into the night.  (You may recall an early post of mine describing a bird that was telling the same knock-knock joke all night.  That was written before I had learned the subtleties of the Jub-Jub language.  She'd actually been telling the same joke for weeks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every fifteen minutes or so, someone at the party starts moving the conversation on a little too quickly.  Many of his fellows become indignant.  Some of them haven't quite gotten the earlier point and would have liked a little more explanation.  Things become tense.  Then the screaming starts.  At first, silly me, I thought it was a whole different kind of a fight.  I thought it was cats.  But it's too loud and violent -- and lasts too long -- for a mere cat fight.  When they're only slightly offended, it sounds like a cat with a terrible hairball. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which makes you wonder why they're called &lt;em&gt;dog&lt;/em&gt; birds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2629805130058786967?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2629805130058786967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2629805130058786967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2629805130058786967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2629805130058786967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/no-regrets.html' title='No (r)egrets.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGjdlWJCBGI/AAAAAAAAAEI/Ob-_ivmio7o/s72-c/001a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-951053026920644520</id><published>2008-06-29T12:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T13:20:39.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The last visitors.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGfOlhkR1WI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0hQIJQArpSg/s1600-h/010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGfOlhkR1WI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0hQIJQArpSg/s320/010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217365837393024354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGfOly8yqFI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Kvy9LoKp8MA/s1600-h/011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGfOly8yqFI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Kvy9LoKp8MA/s320/011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217365842059241554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back!  Our friends John and Anita have been here for the past week . . . so I've been busy.  We had a wonderful time with them and being with them reminds us of what we miss about Seattle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should have seen da boyz when John and Anita arrived!  They wagged and wiggled so hard, they practically turned themselves inside out.  Now we know they haven't forgotten any of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some fun adventures.  We went to Chapala for lunch one day and then continued east along the lake to a town called Mezcala.  We kept going on some pretty rough road but found the highway and a smooth ride home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited the town of Tequila again -- this time we took the VIP tour of Jose Cuervo and saw more of the grounds there.  Pretty amazingly gorgeous.  Reminded me of the grounds of some palaces we've seen in Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also ate at a few really terrific restaurants we have around here.  Plus, I cooked one night.  And Ross cooked another night.  Something got to John for a day -- very likely my dinner.  I seem to have that happen to me every time we're down here, but it hasn't so far this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, they're not really our last visitors.  Just the last ones we're planning to see before going back to Seattle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-951053026920644520?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/951053026920644520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=951053026920644520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/951053026920644520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/951053026920644520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/last-visitors.html' title='The last visitors.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SGfOlhkR1WI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0hQIJQArpSg/s72-c/010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-3352400866419070822</id><published>2008-06-22T11:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T11:42:14.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guadalajara! Guadalajara!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF59Qry6FMI/AAAAAAAAADY/Ee2R_uGLWSI/s1600-h/Gordon+and+Muriel+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF59Qry6FMI/AAAAAAAAADY/Ee2R_uGLWSI/s320/Gordon+and+Muriel+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214743144129238210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This fuzzy picture is of our friends, Muriel and Gordon, from San Miguel de Allende taken at a restaurant featured in the most recent &lt;em&gt;Gourmet&lt;/em&gt; magazine.  Look at page 86, and you'll see it's the same location.  Doesn't look very gourmet, does it?  I'm sure it's muy authentico, however.  (And extremely filling!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF5-RfjpdhI/AAAAAAAAADg/DJDP7oQlnxc/s1600-h/Gordon+and+Muriel+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF5-RfjpdhI/AAAAAAAAADg/DJDP7oQlnxc/s320/Gordon+and+Muriel+007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214744257535505938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The name of the restaurant is The Angry Sisters.  The sign says they've been angry since 1956.  I thought my sisters would appreciate that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF5_RNKHNzI/AAAAAAAAADo/StYmvxRkExI/s1600-h/Gordon+and+Muriel+008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF5_RNKHNzI/AAAAAAAAADo/StYmvxRkExI/s320/Gordon+and+Muriel+008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214745352108193586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There are now three Angry Sister restaurants around Guadalajara -- and one is right next to the one we went to.  Her sign seems to say that she's the truly angry one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF6ANs2yPbI/AAAAAAAAADw/gtqrlbiI65U/s1600-h/Gordon+and+Muriel+009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF6ANs2yPbI/AAAAAAAAADw/gtqrlbiI65U/s320/Gordon+and+Muriel+009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214746391409212850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We also went to the big mercado in Guadalajara -- which we never get tired of going to.  It's so  enormous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can find plenty to eat there, too.  One of the fondas is called El Vegetariano, but you'd never guess that by the menu:  chicken filet, chicken steak (?), grilled beef, etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-3352400866419070822?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/3352400866419070822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=3352400866419070822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3352400866419070822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/3352400866419070822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/guadalajara-guadalajara.html' title='Guadalajara! Guadalajara!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF59Qry6FMI/AAAAAAAAADY/Ee2R_uGLWSI/s72-c/Gordon+and+Muriel+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4808618515167701012</id><published>2008-06-22T10:56:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T11:22:03.204-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF56JjsUOiI/AAAAAAAAADQ/4S2wOP3V-oc/s1600-h/DSC_0054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF56JjsUOiI/AAAAAAAAADQ/4S2wOP3V-oc/s320/DSC_0054.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214739723160140322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I piqued more interest in Luz Azul Especial than in anything else with my last post! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, when we got gas, it cost $7.17 pesos per liter for regular.  According to the Internet exchange rate I looked up, that's $0.695677 in US dollars.  According to another site, there are 3.785011355034065 liters to a gallon.  (Why do these things go out to so many decimal points?)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, we're paying $2.633145344436033237005 per gallon.  If I understand simple math.  Which I'm not sure I do -- since this makes it look like we're paying a heck of a lot less than you all are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess everything really &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;is&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; cheaper in Mexico!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4808618515167701012?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4808618515167701012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4808618515167701012' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4808618515167701012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4808618515167701012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/gas.html' title='Gas.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SF56JjsUOiI/AAAAAAAAADQ/4S2wOP3V-oc/s72-c/DSC_0054.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8094445563478610590</id><published>2008-06-20T16:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T16:31:31.812-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comings and goings.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFwhCXZF6wI/AAAAAAAAADI/TMg527XFmG0/s1600-h/DSC_0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFwhCXZF6wI/AAAAAAAAADI/TMg527XFmG0/s320/DSC_0053.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214078793110907650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is our front gate.  (And our beautiful Lumina minivan, named Luz Azul.)  Our gate is always opening and closing.  So many people in and out, it barely seems like our home.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have half a dozen construction guys in and out of the gate, Monday through Saturday.  In at 8:30 a.m. and out around 6:30 or so.  Their base station is actually the garage.  I'm really, really hoping they'll be done this weekend.  They're at the quiet part of the job now . . . but we're still working around them.  And we can't feel easy letting da boyz out in the yard while they're here because they could accidentally leave the gate open and the dogs would run out in the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ana, the housekeeper, comes at 9 a.m., Monday through Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Armando and Javier, the gardeners, come three times a week, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fernando the plumber/electrician has been here fairly regularly -- to repair everything Jesus the plumber/electrician did wrong.  (Don't ask.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Antonio the carpenter has been in and out, measuring for bookshelves.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, a Telmex guy came by to replace the wiring to the house.  Free.  There was no warning, he just showed up at the gate.  It was very efficient.  He and his team were done in less than an hour, I'd guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We now have guests from San Miguel de Allende visiting -- and I'll bet they think we live in a madhouse.  It's true, but I didn't want word to get out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8094445563478610590?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8094445563478610590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8094445563478610590' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8094445563478610590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8094445563478610590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/comings-and-goings.html' title='Comings and goings.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFwhCXZF6wI/AAAAAAAAADI/TMg527XFmG0/s72-c/DSC_0053.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2417184689310617963</id><published>2008-06-16T21:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T21:29:16.919-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ross speaks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFchcWRFvjI/AAAAAAAAADA/daiiuduNYfQ/s1600-h/Ross+-+June+2008+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFchcWRFvjI/AAAAAAAAADA/daiiuduNYfQ/s320/Ross+-+June+2008+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212671864601951794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the best picture I got because Ross wouldn't let me use flash during his actual talk. My photos are terrible, but his talk was terrific! (This was taken while he was setting up.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He gave a great talk at the &lt;a href="http://www.chesterton.org/"&gt;American Chesterton Society &lt;/a&gt;annual conference about the Paradoxes of Christianity -- one of the chapters of Chesterton's book, &lt;em&gt;Orthodoxy&lt;/em&gt;. When he sends it to me, I'll post the speech here. Sooner or later, you'll also be able to order the CD from the Society's web site.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It really was a wonderful conference and we got to catch up with some old friends. We also got to acquaint ourselves better with Helen and Peter Andersen -- a couple from our church, University Presbyterian, in Seattle. They attend Ross's Sunday School class and we knew they had come to the Chesterton conference in the past, but we'd not gotten to know them in our own town. Funny how that works. Also, being in St. Paul, we got to meet a lot of people from Wisconsin. In fact, the Midwest Chesterton Society used to hold the annual conference in Milwaukee for many years -- so there were a lot of people from that area. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were people from Spain and someone from Norway -- so coming from Mexico wasn't that big a deal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The dogs were well taken care of while we were gone. And they were ecstatic to see us return. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2417184689310617963?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2417184689310617963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2417184689310617963' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2417184689310617963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2417184689310617963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/ross-speaks.html' title='Ross speaks.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFchcWRFvjI/AAAAAAAAADA/daiiuduNYfQ/s72-c/Ross+-+June+2008+009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5364799343576953893</id><published>2008-06-11T19:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T19:15:17.211-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Slick's doctor visit.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFBpI2n0emI/AAAAAAAAACs/9QNNM0pr4aY/s1600-h/004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210780369690065506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFBpI2n0emI/AAAAAAAAACs/9QNNM0pr4aY/s320/004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other morning we woke up when Slick screamed. He jumped off the bed and screamed again. He didn't seem able to really straighten out . . . and he couldn't sit. We brought him a baby aspirin in cream cheese. He managed to hobble downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We looked up vets in the phone book. Ross made a call. They opened at 9. We got everyone in their leashes and headed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By then, of course, he was fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor spoke excellent English. We all think it was a nasty muscle spasm. But what could cause that in an active dog? He's not overweight -- as the beautiful picture above shows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it happens again, the vet suggested an x-ray, in case it's a disc issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way . . . we're on our way to Minnesota in the morning for Ross's talk at the Chesterton conference.  Well, we'll probably take part in the rest of the conference as well.  But he's the highlight.  We'll be back on Sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5364799343576953893?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5364799343576953893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5364799343576953893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5364799343576953893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5364799343576953893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/slicks-doctor-visit.html' title='Slick&apos;s doctor visit.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SFBpI2n0emI/AAAAAAAAACs/9QNNM0pr4aY/s72-c/004.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4328152144984478494</id><published>2008-06-08T17:53:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T18:24:07.464-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty laundry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlvMd6gEI/AAAAAAAAACU/Y8xb9UkRZRE/s1600-h/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlvMd6gEI/AAAAAAAAACU/Y8xb9UkRZRE/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209650730435772482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This indoor/ outdoor living thing ain't all it's cracked up to be.  Wellllll . . . maybe it is &lt;br /&gt;-- but not when you're under construction during the rainy season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, do you know about bungalows?  We own a bungalow in Seattle, so I've looked it up.  The word bungalow has its origins in India.  A distinguishing feature of bungalows would be the eaves.  Eaves are helpful in places that have monsoons.  That's the kind of weather we've been having of an evening.  Beautiful, clear days and thunderstormy nights.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The overhangs we used to have?  They're being reconstructed in a more substantial, attractive style.  But, for the moment, they're absent.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had an absolute flood in the breezeway last night.  Water flowed under the door, bringing in dirt and debris.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm not actually complaining here.  We didn't drown, like the people in the car in Wisconsin.  And we don't even need to even clean it up, because Ana comes tomorrow.  It's just one of those surprising things that happens in a different place.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlv_RJZ7I/AAAAAAAAACc/gaiYeFEeSAI/s1600-h/005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlv_RJZ7I/AAAAAAAAACc/gaiYeFEeSAI/s320/005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209650744072431538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other weird thing about indoor/outdoor living here is that our laundry room is outside. If you look at the first photo I've posted here, the washer and dryer are on the second floor, over to the left, by the scaffolding.  Completely exposed to the elements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So . . . the laundry that was in the washer got full of dirt from the rainfall last night.  The guys completely clogged up the laundry sink (photo #2).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlwQxj6tI/AAAAAAAAACk/ywsgSX9UlVA/s1600-h/006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlwQxj6tI/AAAAAAAAACk/ywsgSX9UlVA/s320/006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209650748771789522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And I decided to put our two open boxes of Bounce (why two?  because we like it!) in the upstairs/outdoor fridge next to the washer to keep it dry (photo #3).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day here is a new adventure in everyday living!  (I'm gonna figure it all out if it kills me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4328152144984478494?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4328152144984478494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4328152144984478494' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4328152144984478494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4328152144984478494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/dirty-laundry.html' title='Dirty laundry.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SExlvMd6gEI/AAAAAAAAACU/Y8xb9UkRZRE/s72-c/002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4477739663615722353</id><published>2008-06-07T12:48:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T13:36:51.442-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErMl_2KhmI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Hk9DYOcR3-Q/s1600-h/more+bananas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209200872173241954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErMl_2KhmI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Hk9DYOcR3-Q/s320/more+bananas.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, did it rain last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think I'd be used to rain. After all, fifteen-plus years in Seattle . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this was, as my husband says, a toad-choker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First the sky turned a sickly grey-green. Then the wind came up in crazy gusts. Then we ran upstairs to close the banging windows and unplug all our precious electronics. Then it started to pour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't lose electricity, but we did lose our satellite service. So we played Tri-ominos. It's a little bit easier than dominos -- since you don't have to do all that adding in your head. Pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness da boyz are not at all fazed by thunder and lightning. I have a feeling that, for them, every day here is "Anything Can Happen Day." We get the &lt;em&gt;yeah, whatever&lt;/em&gt; reaction from them. Yesterday they came across a 2-inch dead lizard in the dining room. It was good for an intense sniff and then . . . &lt;em&gt;whatever. &lt;/em&gt;(I, on the other hand, asked Ross to please deal with it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way . . . I have gone back and added some photos to a few of my posts. (What is this, Carolyn? A scrapbook?) Anyway, if you're interested, you can go through and peek at them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this post is illustrated by a picture of our banana tree. You can see only one of about four bunches. Ross has already made two loaves of excellent banana bread. Did you know that banana trees are actually herbs? So my herb garden is bigger than we thought, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4575160-1");&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._initData();&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4477739663615722353?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4477739663615722353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4477739663615722353' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4477739663615722353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4477739663615722353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/rain.html' title='Rain.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErMl_2KhmI/AAAAAAAAAB8/Hk9DYOcR3-Q/s72-c/more+bananas.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-9064276800357257968</id><published>2008-06-05T17:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T18:46:34.898-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ladies who lunch.</title><content type='html'>I went to a ladies' lunch today. There were a dozen of us "of a certain age."  I was assured I wouldn't need a red hat.  Thank goodness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friend, Barbara, invited me.  She's one of the three people we know here.  (Yeah, that's kinda sad.  It happens when you're as introverted as we are.)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really enjoyed the people I met . . . but now I realize I got no phone numbers, made no dates, nothin'.  Isn't that embarrassing? Oh well.  One step at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-9064276800357257968?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9064276800357257968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=9064276800357257968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9064276800357257968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9064276800357257968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/ladies-who-lunch.html' title='Ladies who lunch.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-9223157941433414236</id><published>2008-06-04T22:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T22:30:27.169-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching my breath.</title><content type='html'>I hope we're getting more into the groove of living in a strange place, but sometimes it feels like one step forward and two steps back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm out of sorts because Ross left for Phoenix this morning.  He doesn't get home till tomorrow night.  So I'm here alone with my anxieties.  What's that noise?  Why is everything so loud?  There sure are a lot of people running around here.  Will I be in the way if I leave my office?  Will the dogs be in the way if I let them out in the yard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We didn't opt for the new garage, but we're giving the front of the house a facelift.  So there are workers and bricks and steel beams and roof tiles and rebar.  Oh my.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They work hard and they work long.  Their lunch break is hardly noticeable.  They seem very cheerful.  I want them to go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's just because I'm in a cranky mood.  What I really want is for them to get it done and done well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the other end of the spectrum is Ana.  She's our housekeeper.  She makes no noise.  I can't even tell if she's here.  I go looking for her and can't find her.  My guess is that she hides in the bathroom for hours.  I'm pretty sure Ross is happy with her, and he's usually pickier about housekeepers than I am.  But I can't tell that she cleans.  She &lt;em&gt;loves &lt;/em&gt;to organize.  My clothes get folded (if I wash them).  My toiletries are always neatly aligned. I still see a lot of dirt in the corners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.  Get ready for a happier post tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4575160-1");&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._initData();&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-9223157941433414236?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9223157941433414236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=9223157941433414236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9223157941433414236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9223157941433414236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/catching-my-breath.html' title='Catching my breath.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6022864232664645818</id><published>2008-06-01T08:37:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T19:03:49.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taste this!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEh9rntPJ_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/jOP2M6HtKqA/s1600-h/upstairs+herbs.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEh9rntPJ_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/jOP2M6HtKqA/s320/upstairs+herbs.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208551157400545266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished my so-called herb garden yesterday.  It's not &lt;em&gt;exactly &lt;/em&gt;a garden since it's in pots located on three different floors.  Downstairs is rosemary, basil and thyme.  On the terrace we have mint.  And upstairs I was planning to have cilantro, curly parsley and Italian parsley.  I was sure we saw Italian parsley at the nursery last weekend.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there was no Italian parsley.  After we got the mint, curly parsley and cilantro, I would still have an empty pot.  What to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a section of plants right in the middle of the herbs that looked very attractive.  It wasn't labeled.  So I tasted it.  Wow!  Was it spicy.  Peppery even.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Huh," I said. "Ross! Taste this!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't want to taste it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, really. Taste it!  It's good."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, okay. (Pause.)  Yep.  It's spicy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't know.  So he brought it to the desk and asked.  The woman there wrote down "Ruda," which we'd never heard of.  She mimed something about crumbling it up and putting it in her ear, which seemed ridiculous.  I'd tasted a leaf and it belonged in a sauce.  Taken internally.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home, Ross sounded pretty convinced I'd poisoned him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll look it up as soon as we get home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I didn't.  I started planting mint as soon as we got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ross looked it up in Wikipedia.  Ruda = Rue:  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When applied to the skin with sun exposure, the oil and leaves can cause blistering. Rue oil can cause severe stomach pain, vomiting and convulsions and may be fatal."&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rue"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;em&gt;now &lt;/em&gt;I know why rue means regret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what it looks like close-up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEh-gHtPKAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/uCYh73gVt7s/s1600-h/rue+close-up.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEh-gHtPKAI/AAAAAAAAAA0/uCYh73gVt7s/s320/rue+close-up.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208552059343677442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, we lived.  No blisters, no convulsions.  Nada.  But I planted it in a pot that the dogs can't easily get to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4575160-1");&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._initData();&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6022864232664645818?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6022864232664645818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6022864232664645818' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6022864232664645818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6022864232664645818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/06/taste-this.html' title='Taste this!'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEh9rntPJ_I/AAAAAAAAAAs/jOP2M6HtKqA/s72-c/upstairs+herbs.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-2385830911347149754</id><published>2008-05-31T17:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T22:16:54.637-05:00</updated><title type='text'>French-fried shrimp</title><content type='html'>When I was a little girl and my family would go out to eat, I'd always order "french-fried shrimp" whenever it was on the menu.  It must have been a pretty typical item in the early-mid '60s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It always came with french-fried potatoes and cocktail sauce.  I'd eat the potatoes first, then the shrimp.  Or maybe it was the other way around.  Anyway.  I didn't like to mix my food back then.  It seemed important.  It also seemed important to my Dad that I eat some shrimp with my fries and some fries with my shrimp.  He thought cleaning the plate in a circular fashion was weird &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; impolite.  I'm sure he's right.  I've never met an adult who eats that way.  Or if I have, I was only paying attention to my own plate, so I didn't notice.  He'd tell me that if I couldn't eat like a polite person, I couldn't order french-fried shrimp anymore.  That was a threat too horrible to bear.  So I mixed.  I'm sure I argued about it, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we found a place that serves shrimp and chips -- just like fish and chips -- with cocktail sauce.  It was the best ever.  There was another place here that had it as a special once -- they even called it "french-fried."  But I never saw it again.  This place has it on the regular menu.  I think it was priced for 1962, too.  Just $80 pesos -- about $7.50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4575160-1");&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._initData();&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-2385830911347149754?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/2385830911347149754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=2385830911347149754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2385830911347149754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/2385830911347149754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/french-fried-shrimp.html' title='French-fried shrimp'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4447315162193756436</id><published>2008-05-28T13:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T17:36:49.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone with the wind.</title><content type='html'>Ross took off for Houston this morning. The good news is he'll be home tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the dogs and I are hanging out, listening to the birds sing, wishing we could be outside enjoying the perfect weather. I have a lot of work going on . . . just taking a brain break here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross has done a ton of work around the house -- mostly involving drilling holes into concrete. He and Jack hung a ceiling fan in the dining room last week. Ross put up a knife rack and a utensil rack in the kitchen on Monday. He hung a pot rack yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've only pulled some stuff out of storage rooms and organized a little. We should be fully unpacked by the time we go back north. I'm kind of kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided against expanding the carport on this trip. It was too spendy for us right now. Maybe after we sell the Seattle house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even so, the improvements never end. Tomorrow a carpenter, Antonio Ramirez, is coming to tell us how much a roomful of bookshelves will cost. We'll be transforming the "sun room" into the "library."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gardeners have been working overtime taking out a big tree in the front yard, to make room for a mango tree. The old tree is a giant version of a schefflera -- I'm sure at some time in your life you've had one of these as a houseplant. This one was two-stories high, constantly dropped leaves and the roots broke up our walkway a little. So goodbye. Now we'll get a dwarf tree that'll drop fruit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");&lt;br /&gt;document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-4575160-1");&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._initData();&lt;br /&gt;pageTracker._trackPageview();&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4447315162193756436?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4447315162193756436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4447315162193756436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4447315162193756436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4447315162193756436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/gone-with-wind.html' title='Gone with the wind.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7535712468570929933</id><published>2008-05-26T18:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T19:13:19.201-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I know my life would look all right if I could see it on the silver screen.</title><content type='html'>When I was young and single, I went to a LOT of movies. The big weekends, like Christmas, Memorial Day and the 4th of July meant movies and lots of 'em. Ross and I went to plenty of movies, too . . . a long, long while ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We soured on the whole movie experience in recent years, and have done all our movie-watching months or even years after the release -- from the comfort of our living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we went to the matinee of the new Indiana Jones movie. I feel like a kid again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one thing, the prices were from the 1980s. It was two bucks a pop for the tickets. A muy grande bucket of popcorn (we could only get through half of it) and two diet Cokes cost about $5. Parking was free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Best thing? NO ONE TALKED! Not during the show. Not during the previews. Not even during the ads. No one's cell phone rang. No one's baby cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un. Be. Lievable. I could weep with happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the ads were all local and extremely entertaining. Half were in English with Spanish subtitles and half were in Spanish with English subtitles. All were quite well done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie itself was in English (i.e., not dubbed), with Spanish subtitles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our experience may be different in the evenings or on weekends. But matinees are okay by me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7535712468570929933?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7535712468570929933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7535712468570929933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7535712468570929933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7535712468570929933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-know-my-life-would-be-all-right-if-i.html' title='I know my life would look all right if I could see it on the silver screen.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6841578444251974829</id><published>2008-05-26T18:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T18:51:39.721-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog housekeeping.</title><content type='html'>Several people have emailed me saying they had trouble posting comments -- so I changed a couple of settings. I hope it helps. Do me a favor and try sending a comment. If you try and it fails, would you please tell me in an email?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus . . . if you're interested, it looks like you can subscribe to this blog and get notified in your email.  If you scroll all the way down to the bottom, there's a little "Subscribe to" thingie you can click.  When I do this, it shows up in an "RSS Feeds" Folder in Outlook.  I don't know what it looks like if you don't have Outlook.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6841578444251974829?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6841578444251974829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6841578444251974829' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6841578444251974829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6841578444251974829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-housekeeping.html' title='Blog housekeeping.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7188376163969423067</id><published>2008-05-24T15:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T19:10:40.425-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Herbivores.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiAJHtPKBI/AAAAAAAAAA8/q5g0zG9by3s/s1600-h/Herbs+070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiAJHtPKBI/AAAAAAAAAA8/q5g0zG9by3s/s320/Herbs+070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208553863229941778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, around this time, I plant my rooftop herb garden. I think my Dad puts in tomatoes around Memorial Day . . . so that probably explains my timing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, because we're in Mexico, I've been even more excited about the idea.  Possibly because it's a lot less likely that 90% of what I plant today will be dead by August. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to terms with my inability to take care of my herbs for four months in a row in Seattle.  I finally decided a couple of years ago that I'm going to spend a certain amount of money on herbs and pots and soil each year.  It's a pretty generous budget.  So generous I'm embarrassed to admit what it is in this public arena.  My feeling is, if they die, so be it.  It's a little self-indulgent, but so are the cut flowers we buy in the market each week.  They give us pleasure for a while and then they die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I'm wildly optimistic.  For one thing, the climate is awfully good for plants, even potted ones, at this time of year.  By the time I start getting lax about watering them, it'll be the rainy season.  For another thing, our gardeners water the potted plants we keep outside, as well as everything else the yard needs.  So once the rainy season is over, the herbs' new friends, Armando and Javier, will be taking better care of them than I ever would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just about spent my full budget today.  I bought three great big gorgeous pots and one smallish one.  I bought three extremely large bags of soil.  And I bought one bag of lava rock for drainage that I probably didn't need, once I looked in the bodega and saw that we had a bunch of broken roof tiles.  I also got three rosemary plants, two basil and one thyme.  The plants themselves were about $5. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a few pots around here I can rescue for more herbs.  So I'll probably expand my little garden this weekend or next without breaking my budget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we'll really be cookin'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7188376163969423067?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7188376163969423067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7188376163969423067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7188376163969423067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7188376163969423067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/herbivores.html' title='Herbivores.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiAJHtPKBI/AAAAAAAAAA8/q5g0zG9by3s/s72-c/Herbs+070.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-9069327534177504878</id><published>2008-05-24T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T15:30:21.225-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Estimates.</title><content type='html'>It's a three-day weekend, but I'm spending the morning in my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross has several men here to give us an estimate for some work. I'm keeping the dogs in here with me -- because Slick was annoying them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we're thinking about getting a little work done. A facelift for the carport. We have a two car carport with a single (extremely small) door. And now that we have two vehicles here, it would be nice to keep both of them off the street at night without a lot of dancing around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That sounds simple enough . . . but it involves moving the LP gas tank to another part of the yard and bringing the gas lines into the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is ever easy, is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-9069327534177504878?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9069327534177504878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=9069327534177504878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9069327534177504878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9069327534177504878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/estimates.html' title='Estimates.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-8810908657136410281</id><published>2008-05-22T22:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T19:14:17.241-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clean plate club.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiBG3tPKCI/AAAAAAAAABE/-C8U33kTETU/s1600-h/Dog+food.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiBG3tPKCI/AAAAAAAAABE/-C8U33kTETU/s320/Dog+food.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208554924086863906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard the expression, "We eat our own dog food"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's business jargon for "we practice what we preach."  We do what we tell our clients to do.  I think it suggests that if you make dog food, you should be willing to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made dog food.  I even tasted it.  It could use some salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can't get our normal dog food here.  We brought down a forty-pound bag . . . but that's not enough for three months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most dog food is made in China.  And most other dog food is made from stuff you wouldn't want to eat.  So I got a recipe out of a dog book and made meatloaf for da boyz. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little nervous.  But they seemed to like it even better than the usual kibble.  Woohoo! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next test is whether it agrees with their tummies.  It's been a few hours.  No one is begging to go outside.  So I think it'll be okay.  Normal procedure is to go half and half for awhile and then switch.  That's what we did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that we're completely weird about these guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-8810908657136410281?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/8810908657136410281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=8810908657136410281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8810908657136410281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/8810908657136410281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/clean-plate-club.html' title='Clean plate club.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SEiBG3tPKCI/AAAAAAAAABE/-C8U33kTETU/s72-c/Dog+food.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-7813458006543996908</id><published>2008-05-21T17:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T17:28:33.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mercado</title><content type='html'>I played hooky from work for a couple hours this morning and we went to the Wednesday market.  This is a very cool place where you can walk down one street for about two blocks and find almost anything you could possibly need.  For cheap.  My favorite is the polyester underwear.  I'm just amazed that it's there . . . not that I really want any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we bought some veggies and a Walkman for our neighbor the rap music fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross went over to him and explained how important it was to me that he turn down his music -- and he actually turned it off!  What a relief.  Then we felt a little guilty.  Hence the Walkman (or "portable CD player/radio").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's hoping that's a permanent solution.  At the price in the mercado, I could probably replace every boombox in this town.  My own little contribution to solving the noise pollution problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-7813458006543996908?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/7813458006543996908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=7813458006543996908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7813458006543996908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/7813458006543996908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/mercado.html' title='Mercado'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-6182079506839766549</id><published>2008-05-20T18:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T22:07:22.877-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sit down and have a pizza pie.</title><content type='html'>Took Jack and Bunny to the airport today . . . so we're on our own again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're looking forward to having some time to pull things together a bit more here at Casa Gecko. It's certainly livable -- but we've barely been able to go grocery shopping!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather seems to be cooling down a little. According to weather.com it only got up to 80 degrees today. And it's raining nearly every afternoon. It's plenty warm and sunny, just not ridiculously so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had dinner tonight at a new place -- an Argentinian restaurant called San Telmo. It must be Italian, too, because I had the best pizza ever. And I needed a doggie bag, so I can have some for lunch tomorrow. Yum! So if you come visit Ajijic (and, of course, you're invited!) make sure we bring you there for truly amazing pizza.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-6182079506839766549?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/6182079506839766549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=6182079506839766549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6182079506839766549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/6182079506839766549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/sit-down-and-have-pizza-pie.html' title='Sit down and have a pizza pie.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5518349496489142879</id><published>2008-05-19T21:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T21:31:20.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Running with the big dogs.</title><content type='html'>I took the dogs for a walk to the lake today.  We haven't been going for formal walks as much, because they've had so much exercise chasing us up and down stairs.  But for most of today we were alone (Ross took Jack and Bunny into Guadalajara and I sat at my desk), so we were bored and hadn't gotten much of a workout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lake is looking very different.  The plague of lirios (water hyacinth) seems to be entirely gone.  It also looks like they've filled in more land at the end of the street that goes down to the lake -- with just a little more sand it could be a beach.  Without the lirios, you can see small waves lap the shore.  I've never seen that here before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We read a report in one of the local magazines that Lake Chapala was recently tested and found to be safe for recreational use.  Now I can actually imagine it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, the dogs saw a horse and a cow in the two blocks between here and the lake.  Slick decided the horse was the biggest dog he ever saw and he didn't want to confront him.  The cow was further away, so no one got their backs up about seeing her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5518349496489142879?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5518349496489142879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5518349496489142879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5518349496489142879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5518349496489142879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/running-with-big-dogs.html' title='Running with the big dogs.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-1355477951894541161</id><published>2008-05-17T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T19:14:37.468-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simultaneous translation.</title><content type='html'>Today we were in Tequila.  Yes, we were bathing in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, we took Jack and Bunny to the town of Tequila.  We found a little distillery outside of town called Tres Mujeres that we had visited a couple of years ago.  We took a tour, entirely in Spanish.  Ross translated for us.  It turns out that the woman who showed us around was one of the the three women the place was named for.  She was delightful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found a place to have lunch -- and left as soon as the tour buses arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the Jose Cuervo factory.  The English-language tour was at 2 p.m. and we arrived just before 3.  So we let Ross translate for us again.  I'm sure he did an excellent job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also did a fine job of working things out when he was caught driving the wrong way on a one-way street.  (This was before we tasted any tequila -- and I talked him into making the turn against his better judgment.  So it really, really wasn't his fault.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dogs took great care of the house while we were out.  Nothing got chewed!  Yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-1355477951894541161?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/1355477951894541161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=1355477951894541161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1355477951894541161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/1355477951894541161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/simultaneous-translation.html' title='Simultaneous translation.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4895382394315166361</id><published>2008-05-16T22:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T13:30:30.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go fish.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErTsSJoVWI/AAAAAAAAACM/jmqvyDIrxTo/s1600-h/Fishing+030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209208676747335010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErTsSJoVWI/AAAAAAAAACM/jmqvyDIrxTo/s320/Fishing+030.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErSziRZPJI/AAAAAAAAACE/gdsQpTGOSCU/s1600-h/Fishing++041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209207701822323858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErSziRZPJI/AAAAAAAAACE/gdsQpTGOSCU/s320/Fishing++041.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ross and Jack went fishin'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew we lived so close to the white hot bass fishing center of the universe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They caught 92 fish (and threw them all back). They say that's an average of a fish caught every six minutes. Ross brought my camera, so I'll post a couple of the highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bunny and I had a couple of fun "girls' days" right here in Ajijic -- as soon as work was through anyway. We went out to eat. We went shopping. We watched a DVD. Tonight I cooked dinner in preparation for the reture of our heroes. It tasted pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. I hope I didn't poison anyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4895382394315166361?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4895382394315166361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4895382394315166361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4895382394315166361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4895382394315166361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/go-fish.html' title='Go fish.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XcvxABhA7Tg/SErTsSJoVWI/AAAAAAAAACM/jmqvyDIrxTo/s72-c/Fishing+030.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-5476812998554384351</id><published>2008-05-14T22:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T22:04:14.529-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time out of mind.</title><content type='html'>The time difference is kinda bugging me.  While I'm working, I have my mind on Seattle time . . . and it makes me a little crazy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit down around 7:30 or 8 a.m. and it's only 5:30 or 6 in Seattle.  I work and work and work -- by which I mean I read and I write.  The time just drags.  I'm on my third breakfast by the time people are starting to think about lunch in Seattle.  I need to get to the point where I'm only worried about what I've accomplished, rather than what's going on up north.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have more company. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ross's brother Jack and Jack's girlfriend Bunny arrived on Tuesday.  They're both a lot of fun, so it's kind of a pain that I'm working and not on vacation.  Ross and Jack are going fishing tomorrow.  I'm going to take a little time to go shopping with Bunny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack really likes the dogs -- and they like him -- so I won't be shocked if he gets a basenji when he goes back to Oklahoma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-5476812998554384351?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/5476812998554384351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=5476812998554384351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5476812998554384351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/5476812998554384351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/time-out-of-mind.html' title='Time out of mind.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-4337396721792834873</id><published>2008-05-12T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T16:39:11.272-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The end of the weekend guest story.</title><content type='html'>The guests left yesterday.  They were lovely -- only a bit ditzy.  The reason they didn't get here was that they left their house two hours late.  I can understand why they might not want to call us from there (I don't know what long distance charges are in Mexico) -- but I still think they could at least have sent an email.  But enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the embarrassing part.  They must think I'm the world's worst hostess.  Apparently, back when I signed up for this, I must have read something that told me as a host, I'm supposed to provide "a light breakfast."  They had to ask for it!  (I thought giving them a place to sleep was all I'd signed up for.)  The reason for my confusion is that it's possible to trade houses without the hosts even being there.  But even in that case, you're supposed to provide the fixin's for "a light breakfast." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets worse.  On the last day, they show me a flyer that the people who started this whole idea put together.  The guests are supposed to tip the hosts 200 pesos a night!  Oy.  I don't want money for this!  I'm reading this in absolute horror right in front of them, while they're drinking the coffee and eating the cereal I gave them.  Money?  Now I'm wondering . . . did I give them their money's worth?  Two hundred pesos is worth about $18.  Times three.  That's $54.  Too much to be a token and too little to be a business.  I have a friend who uses the word "mortified" a lot.  Now I know exactly what she means. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, they begged off paying for some reason.  (They spoke to Ross, not me.  They didn't have change, maybe?)  And they offered to let us stay at their place for free.  What a relief.  They must have had some idea how bad we would have felt taking their money.  They &lt;em&gt;did&lt;/em&gt; take us out to dinner on Saturday, and that was plenty of compensation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-4337396721792834873?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/4337396721792834873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=4337396721792834873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4337396721792834873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/4337396721792834873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/end-of-weekend-guest-story.html' title='The end of the weekend guest story.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7772293726112838207.post-9211528030462905093</id><published>2008-05-10T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T21:57:38.404-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day.</title><content type='html'>Mother's Day in this part of the world is May 10 -- no matter which day of the week it falls on.  And -- surprise! -- it starts at exactly midnight.  With artillery.  At least that's how it sounded to us.  The first three or four blasts incorporated themselves into my dream, but then I woke up.  I think I counted more than twenty . . . explosions.  Fireworks?  Whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I heard some wonderful singing -- four part harmonies.  I thought, "that's not some drunk."  Then I fell back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We learned that the tradition is to wake Mom up in the middle of the night with a professional serenade!  Isn't that thoughtful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere we went today there were flowers for sale -- and women walking down the street carrying bouquets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the day in Guadalajara looking for a couple of necessities -- and ending up with a lot of stuff.  How does that happen?  Shopping in ninety-plus degree heat must make us a little loco.   All I can say is that it's good to be home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day, Mom!  If I had a gun, I'd shoot it off in your honor.  But knowing how you feel about guns, I imagine you are more honored by the fact that I've never even held a gun, much less shot one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7772293726112838207-9211528030462905093?l=tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/feeds/9211528030462905093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7772293726112838207&amp;postID=9211528030462905093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9211528030462905093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7772293726112838207/posts/default/9211528030462905093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tosaynothingofthedogs.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day.'/><author><name>Carolyn Hansen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05397033646555646608</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
