Monthly Archives: May 2006

Where is Casper?

I joined a Bunco group, and our first meeting was Thursday night. For those who don’t know, Bunco is a dice game that is usually played with a group of 12. I think it’s bridge for the 21st century. Yes, I’m officially an old lady.

It turns out that I’m a successful old lady though. We planned to play six rounds, and the person who won the most rounds was to get a prize. I won my first round and my second and my third and my fourth, and oh my gosh, I started to think I had a chance at winning every round. I am REALLY good at rolling dice.

And that’s when the ghosts showed up. We were short two players, so we had ghost players fill in (really just an empty chair, or at least it appeared that way). We switched partners each round, so almost everyone had a ghost partner at some point. The ghost would sit across from you, and when his turn came, you rolled for him.

The ghost I had in the fifth round must have been really bad because we lost the round. I glared at the empty chair across from me. In the sixth round, I got stuck with the other ghost, and he was even worse! I don’t know why those ghosts had it in for me, but I ended up missing out on the prize, which went to a woman who won five of the six rounds. Maybe the ghosts knew that I planned to keep the prize — a Cheesecake Factory gift certificate — all to myself. You only live once, right?

Bridging the language barrier

I took a dog training class Sunday where I learned how to properly walk a dog. Inspired, I came home and decided we would finally teach Abe the proper way to walk on a leash. Generally, we let Abe’s nose guide him, so he walks in a series of loops and swirls, and Greg and I have to dance around each other to avoid becoming tangled. We also have to feel embarassed every time we meet a well-behaved dog, a dog that calmly heels next to its owner while Abe strains against the leash, drools, and whimpers, dragging us toward the well-behaved dog.

We will tolerate that embarassment no longer.

Abe took to the training like a natural. We have had to correct him a few times during each walk, but for the most part, he stays right at our heels. But the training couldn’t be that easy. There had to be a problem. And there is.

Sometimes we get tired of having Abe at our heels and want to give him the freedom to sniff around. On our first walk, Greg got Abe’s attention and said, “Release!” in a happy voice. Abe stared, dumbfounded.

“Release!” Greg said again, shooing Abe with his hands. Abe remained still. He watched Greg with a slightly furrowed brow, his tongue dangling from his mouth.

I knew I had to step in. During the training class, I learned that dogs mainly communicated with body language. Most dogs need a long time to learn verbal commands, but they can almost instantly understand physical commands.

“Abe,” I said, “Release!” As I said this, I curled the top half of my body inward and tucked my arms to my chest. Then, I threw my arms outward as if I were about to welcome my soldier husband home from war. Abe took off. Success!

But not really success because in the past three days Abe still hasn’t learned the word “release.” He may never learn it because he already learned the body language. Greg and I will forever have to communicate with him in sweeping gestures, as though we are exuberant cheerleaders encouraging our dog on to victory. Instead of us being embarassed by Abe … well, can dogs be embarassed?

Stop, drop, and roll, Kitty!

Last night I tried a new pizza recipe. It was a potato pizza, and instead of cheese, the recipe called for cream. This made the potatoes taste a little au gratin. The problem with using cream instead of cheese is that it spills. One side of our crust was a little low, and the cream started dripping onto the bottom of our oven, which caused the house to get smoky, which caused the fire alarms to go off. Greg and I ran around the house throwing open windows. Winston made a beeline for the couch and quickly slid underneath.

Apparently Winston missed the fire video where they warn you not to try to hide from the fire. So if you should happen to be driving down the street and see a house in flames, with two people frantically shoving a heavy, green couch and a struggling furball out the door, well, you know what’s going on.