Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Disney Lied....

I think I mentioned in some previous post that our building management subscribes to daily news video feeds in each of the elevators. Each corner contains a small monitor that gives me something to stare at during the daily triskaidekaphobic trip to the 16th (15th) floor. Usually I learn something relevant about the weather in Riga, Latvia, the cost of a rickshaw ride in Bangladesh, or who got voted off American Idol this week.

Today I learned that historians have determined that Cinderella's slipper was probably made from fur, and not glass as was previously reported in the Happily Ever After News Tribune.

Well, damn.

I have QUESTIONS about this, people! This is upsetting! First off, when the PETA peeps get wind of this, are they going to go out and throw fake blood on pre-schoolers at Hollywood Video?

Are we going to further learn that the fabled pumpkin really was an eggplant?

Other fairy tales are now left wide open for questioning. Jack and the Corn Stalk? What about all the rumors of the additional dwarves known as Blinky, Stinky, and Moe? What if Rapunzel had Jessica Simpson extensions?

And who are these historians anyway? Can't they find something just a titch more productive to think about? "Verre" vs "Vair" (French for glass and fur) isn't exactly rocket science. I looked it up in two minutes on Wikipedia, for cryin' out loud. Probably this was study funded by the Latvian government.

One thing I am sure of, with no further research required, is that if Cinderella had fur slippers, she absolutely positively DID NOT own a 7 month old whippet puppy.









Monday, April 28, 2008

Home Sweet Home

A normal person would tell the story of a week at a dog show by talking about, say, dogs. Not sure where that person's blog is, but it isn't here.

Some highlights of last week, in no particular order.

Wining. In my whippet show world, "whine" is what ones dog ought not do when crated; "bouquet" means the flowers on the judge's table. "Nose" is on the end of the dog's face and should be fully pigmented. "Dry" is what you do to wet feet before allowing the dog on the bed in the host hotel. "Sweet" describes darling puppies in the 6-9 month bitch class. Imagine my shock on Monday when 14 of us from Alaska to Massachusetts to Florida hired a limo and toured several Willamette Valley wineries. Apparently these words have a whole different meaning to the non-dog world! Who knew? The inner diva doesn’t even order Gewurtztraminer in a restaurant because she can't pronounce it, but we all had a lovely time, made new friends, and brought home some fabulous wine. (And no, Pete, I didn't pick it out by the label...)

Bucket B1tch (BB). You notice I use the "1" for the "i" here, but I didn't above describing dogs. Somehow its socially acceptable in my world to refer to a female dog as a bitch without second thought. But describing a human as such still feels somewhat declasse and distasteful. However, in my world, the term "Bucket B1tch" IS a compliment. The subject of said praise is the assistant to a professional handler (PH). PH gets all dressed up and presents the dog in the ring, and the BB gets to pick up poop, bathe, groom, and be at PH's beck and call generally. When Linda, my good friend and PH for my own dogs in years past found herself in the ring with a problem named Horace, yours truly came to the rescue. Wearing my BB suit and cape, along with three inch heels, I spring into action true diva style and dashed through the hotel, across the parking lot and over a tall motor home in a single bound to Linda's travel trailer. I scream for Steve, her husband, to bring me the show bag - the PH needs HER squeaky toy. Steve quickly locates said squeaky for me, and I sprint back to the ring just in time for Linda to do her final set up with Horace. She gets his attention with the squeaky and makes the cut in the class. Mission accomplished! Power to the Bucket B1tch!

Busy Bee. If you haven't seen the movie "Best in Show", go rent it. Then you'll understand why Linda rejected the first white rat squeaky I borrowed for Horace. PH's and dogs both like routine. Upset the routine and results could be catastrophic. Go Find Busy Bee!

Two Left Shoes. Another “Best in Show” reference. The nice saleswoman at the Macy’s across the parking lot brought me two left sandals to try on. Only at a dog show could this be so totally hilarious. Janet and I laughed so hard we nearly peed our pants. Macy’s staff thinks we’re nutzo. There’s a fine line between a hobby and a mental illness.

A Good Year for Victoria’s Secret. Under pressure of a week long national level competition, alcohol becomes one of the basic food groups, along with chips, cold pastries, cold sandwiches and ring bait. One hopes that the ring bait is actually edible by human standards, but I’m sure that there are PH and BB’s out there that have existed for days on Rollover and Charlie Bears. Since aforementioned travel trailers don’t usually come with wine cellars as optional equipment, the storage of said alcohol requires some planning. It also requires padding in transit. Nary an eye is batted at the announcement that “reds are in the underwear drawer, and whites are with the socks”.

Lexus, anyone? It may be a sign that I’ve turned too much into a city girl. Tuesday morning I exited Starbucks to discover that I’d left the van engine running in the parking lot. A couple of nanoseconds of complete confusion and disbelief click through my brain. Then the light dawns. This is not our car! Some OTHER idiot has left the engine running in a white Lexus minivan whilst picking up their triple tall, extra hot, two pump vanilla soy no-foam latte. For a moment, I debate leaving the keys to Janet’s Honda Odyssey for them and taking off in the Lexus. Unfotunately, I didn’t have time to take measurements to make sure all the dog crates would fit.

Secret Agent Man. Thursday evening after hanging out in the travel trailer drinking eating dinner we attempt to return to our room at the hotel. However, in addition to a whippet convention, the hotel is now hosting a small army of Men In Black. Note: there is nothing more sobering than having to explain to the Secret Service that you simply want to go to bed. Agent J in the lobby lets us through to the corridor to our room, where Agent K scowls until I politely explain that he can either let us go to our room, or I can puke on his nicely polished MIB shoes. Actually, I didn’t really have to use words, I just waved at our door and he nodded us through. I think he got the picture though. I peaked out again about an hour later, and he was still there. Another note: Those guys don’t smile much. They do talk in their walkie-talkies to each other: “Two Whippets coming” “Two Whippets confirmed”. Bet the nice secret agent men never got to say that before! Here’s another photo…my friend Karen, my friend Phoebe’s dog Nellie, and reason for the all the fuss.


Sunday, April 27, 2008

Stay Tuned...

While the Valley River Inn has made a fine substitute for home for the past week, it is time this morning to pack and go home. As usual, post National Specialty, I will be perfectly content to NEVER SEE ANOTHER WHIPPET besides my own for at least a day. Maybe two.

So this morning we pack up the troops and head back up I5 to home and family. But there are fabulous stories to be told.
  • We're Wining!
  • Bucket B1tch
  • That's Not Busy Bee!
  • Two Left Shoes
  • The Merlot is in my Underwear Drawer
  • Anyone want a Lexus?
  • Hey Sequet Serrrvice Dude, Thas My Room

There's probably more, but I gotta go pack! Stay tuned....

J

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Tara











Sunday, April 20, 2008

Partly Cloudy, With a Chance of Snow, Sleet, Hail...

...and quite possibly the locusts again. The weather in Eugene so far rivals that in the Puget Sound Convergence Zone. The PSCZ provides the backdrop for the success of such clothing retailers as REI, Eddie Bauer, Helly Hansen, the North Face and is the official birthplace of GoreTex.

I need my GoreTex here and I didn't bring it. Silly me. I came to Eugene with a bag of Nordstrom shoes, my capri pants and my straightening iron. All of which can be tossed right out the door of the Valley River Inn into the swirling iceburg filled waters of the Willamette River.

The inner diva is outraged. She wasn't planning on needing 39 layers of fleece and a sub-zero class parka to take a puppy out to potty at 2am. Since said puppy is coming from Saginaw, Minnesota, said puppy probably is going to think the Willamette Valley is balmy at 15 degrees and want to frolic in the spring air at 2am. She won't be the least bit fazed by the sideways sleet. It is so hard to be fabulous when you're freezing your a$$ off.

Oh well.

6:32 pm Sunday. Sideways hail. I advise Beans that peeing is over-rated. Sistah, you don't REALLY want to go out there...fortunately she is J's problem.

6:40 pm. They're still out there. Beans can't find the perfect pee spot, and J won't give up trying to make her. Boys are SO much easier. They pee on the first available tree and you're done.

Patience, here is your booth. It is EMPTY. Beans is SO disappointed. She wanted more sock-monkey panties. You can't tell but the sign says "Patience". Safe travels here, and see you tomorrow!








Neither Snow nor Rain nor Heat nor Gloom of Night



Will stop us from getting to Eugene for the Specialty. Although we saw all of the above except "gloom of night". I'm pretty sure there may have been locusts and tornadoes as well.




At any rate, we survived the trip down and are now happily esconced in our hotel room. "We" are yours truly, my friend Janet, and Janet's whippet Becca, or as I call her, "Beans".

This is a lovely location, and there's a river walk on the Willamette River right outside our door.



Friday, April 18, 2008

Who's That Girl?

Cough, cough, wheeze, wheeze.

Whining...
Since no one wants to buy my lungs, I guess I just have to live with the friggin' things. I have to leave for the Whippet National Specialty in Oregon tomorrow, and the only things in my suitcase are Stan and LJ.

I prefer "self-indulgent" to "superficial".
But I am feeling better finally, and I managed the important things. I got my hair and nails done and I bought new shoes. So even if I'm turning a peculiar shade of blue from lack of oxygen, at least I feel pretty. The inner diva jumps for joy before she keels over gasping for air.

Twelve Step Program
And, to top it all off, literally, I completed my blonde recovery program. If I were a Simpson sister, I traded Jessica for Ashlee. Two-tone red/brunette. If it weren't so striking, I'd be a candidate for witness protection, it's so different.

I love it.

Beth, get well!

Thursday, April 17, 2008

For Sale: Lungs

Cheap. Two asthmatic human lungs. Function well except when inhaling anything remotely like mold. May do better in a warm, dry climate. Possess an amazing ability to turn any tiny cold, flu bug, toothache or stubbed toe into a raging upper respiratory infection, often accompanied by 102 degree fever. They don’t play well with weak lower backs, as all the resultant coughing will throw the back out. Recently have expressed a profound dislike of airline travel (although they were much happier in Bend, Oregon this week). U-haul. Buyer must show proof of prescriptions for Albuterol, Pulmicort, and magic spiked cough syrup. Interested parties may leave comment.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Dab Airplades...

I'm sorry I'm not up to playing today - caught a nasty respiratory infection on the way home from Maryland. On the bright side, I have good drugs!

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Speaking of Quotes...

I think this may be a favorite...

"It is a beautiful thing to give trust back to a dog."

J

Friday, April 4, 2008

Adventures In Business Class...

Sorry, haven't had a chance to get on-line and post while I've been on the road. Or the skies. Or whatever the h-e double toothpicks you call it when one is travelling by air. I get to go home via Cleveland. Hopefully I don't get stuck there in a thunderstorm.

I'll try to provide an update this weekend. I have GOOD stories. I've been in Baltimore...another big city with great shoes.

J
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Jenn and the City

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