Golden Retriever

Somehow it seems like the earlier I go to sleep the more weird dreams I have. Maybe I just remember more. 

My book came--All About Aussies, the blue edition. Aesthetically I prefer this one, but....the content of the red one is more exhaustive. Oh well. Collect 'em all, I guess. Oh, and I finished off the cereal, and it's only Wednesday. Bagels for breakfast for the next two mornings, I guess. 

Lee was here while I did math. They've got me solving for x now....took me a bit to figure out what they wanted, but I got there eventually.

Lark and I took the long way 'round, stopping first at the Heller dig. Michaela--no longer braids girl--ended up asking my age. -_-; The conversation went something like this: "She really likes this wilderness, doesn't she?" "Yeah--back home it's all cornfields." "Oh, so where're you from?" "Nebraska." "So what are you doing there?" "Uh--I'm a student." I knew where this was going. "Oh, really! What's your major?" "Um, I'm homeschooled." "Oh!" Something occurred to her. "Wait--how old are you?" I admitted that I was not quite sixteen. She was pretty surprised. The question now, though, is whether she tells anybody, or if I can continue with the others. Well, we'll see.

 

We continued along the path, seeing a couple of dog/walker pairs--a golden and a schnauzer, I think. It was otherwise uneventful until we hit the park on Rockhurst and a lady with a golden came in. He was a wondrously gargantuan dog. I think he weighed more than Baron. Besides that, he oozed personality. His lady had a green plastic ball thrower, rather like a clay pigeon thrower but designed to fit a tennis ball, and perhaps a little springier. He came to the park carrying it, with the ball in the cup--I don't think his mom had to touch the thing once, which I'm sure she was very happy about. His name was Zebulon, and while he was a bit curious about the little dog whose person was discussing him with his lady, his main interest was in the ball. It was pretty funny--when she threw it, Lark would go about half-way after him, and then you could see her think, "All right, I am not going that far away from Mom to try to wrestle a giant like that for his ball. No way." And she'd come trotting back to us. Eventually Zeb decided it was time to go home, which decision he demonstrated by picking up his ball and thrower and proudly carrying it to the corner, where he waited for his lady. She came, he sat in front of her until the street was clear, and then he trotted along for a block, his lady walking behind, until the next crossing, where he waited again. It was great.

We made it home around one-thirty, as rain began to fall in a desultory fashion. Carole was here, to clean house, and as Grandma just told me that she lived in Japan for a while I am contemplating going and asking questions.......Ah. Five years, in the eighties. Air Force base outside Tokyo. She used to watch Candy Candy and Sailor Moon. Her sons only watch the Cartoon Network anime, though. Pokemon and Bakugan and stuff. No adultswim.

I read the Breed History chapter to Grandma when we were having floats. She told me there had been two "little blue dogs" on the ranch in Walden when she was small, back in the thirties. (Will "the thirties" be to my kids what "the nineties" are to me?) There was Blue, and then when he was old there was Pups, a female who looks like one of the black-and-white photos in the History chapter. It's hard to tell, but the dog in the picture may have been a black tri. On the other hand, she could have been anything from black and white to red tri. Color photographs were one of the truly great inventions. Oh, well. I was telling Grandma about the later edition of All About Aussies, too; we came to the conclusion that I'm going to have to start a library of  Aussie info. Maybe I should buy Palika, too.

Evening spent at the Derbyshire Writers' Guild again. Cindy C. has spent productively the time I've been away. I'd like to edit for her--she's really good at imitating Heyer's voice, but sometimes her style breaks down and she needs someone to catch it. She could probably make some money off all the Heyer addicts who want new hits--she's still a modern author, and it shows, but you don't have to see it if you don't want to, and she's much better than some other Regency authors I've read. Otherwise, however, I'd like to see what else she can write, if she gets her own voice. She's not bad at plot, good at humor, good at characterization and voice. And she's certainly gotten good practice with the Regencies.