Wagered a hundy
I took the Steelers gave six
New Vittorias?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Greyfriars’ Bobby: A True Story
This is the sixth and last tag I've made for Karla's Puppy Love tag swap. I'll be packaging them up and sending them out this weekend! I've covered all different interpretations of puppy love and this last one is homage to the loyalty and love between a dog and its owner. I found this wonderfully heart-wrenching true story of Bobby and typed it out and made a little book. The cover shows the statue erected in honor of Bobby. I hand-stitched the book binding and included a cross charm (appropriate, as you'll read below).
And the story . . .
More than a hundred years ago, the great city of Edinburgh in Scotland was a busy, bustling place. The narrow, bumpy streets were filled with horse-drawn carriages, carts and wagons.
To this city every Wednesday morning came a farmer named Mr. Grey. And at his side, trotting along on short legs that moved so fast they seemed to twinkle, was Bobby. Bobby was Mr. Grey’s Skye Terrier — a small, intelligent, short-tailed kind of dog whose bright eyes and stubby legs were nearly covered by his long, flowing hair.
Mr. Grey would spend the morning at market. When the time-gun — a signal cannon that was fired at one o’clock — went off, Mr. Grey and Bobby would head for a small restaurant called Traill’s Dining Room, which was not far from Greyfriars’ Church. There, Mr. Grey and Bobby would have lunch. Lunch was always the same for the little dog — a crisp bun. Mr. Traill, who owned the restaurant, soon came to know the little dog well.
One Wednesday, the farmer and his dog did not appear at the restaurant. Several days passed. Then, one day as the time-gun sounded the hour of one o’clock, Mr. Traill was startled to see a small, thin bedraggled-looking dog standing in his doorway. It was Bobby, and he was all alone.
“Why, I believe he’s hungry,” Mr. Traill said to himself. “He’s come for a bun, same as always. But where is his master?” He took a bun and held it out to the dog. “Is that it, laddie? Are you hungry?”
Bobby took the bun, and with the quick, happy sort of skip that a hungry dog often makes when given a bit of food, turned and trotted from the restaurant. Mr. Traill watched him go, wondering what had happened. Was the little dog lost? Had something happened to his master, the farmer Grey?
Next day, at the same hour, Bobby came to the restaurant again. The kindly Mr. Traill quickly gave another bun to the hungry animal. Again, Bobby took it in his mouth and trotted off.
Overcome with curiosity, Mr. Traill followed him. With Traill close behind him, Bobby made his way to Greyfriars’ churchyard. There, near a grave that looked to Mr. Traill as if it were new, the dog lay down and began to eat his bun.
With a lump rising in his throat, Mr. Traill walked over and peered down at the simple grave marker. It bore the name of old Grey — Bobby’s master. Traill realized, now, why the dog looked so thin and uncared for. His master was dead, and little Bobby had been staying here, night and day, beside the grave. Only the terrible pangs of hunger had finally driven him to search for food. Perhaps the sound of the time-gun had reminded him of Traill’s Dining Room and the buns he had gotten there.
Traill bent over the little dog. “Come away, laddie,” he urged in a low, gentle voice. “It’s no use — your master’s gone. I’ll take care of you.” Bobby wagged his tail. But he did not budge. The man could not make him leave the grave. After a time, sadly shaking his head, Traill left.
Each day after that, always at the hour of one, Bobby came to beg for a bun, which Traill never failed to give him. The man told others about the faithful little Skye Terrier who would not leave his master’s grave. Soon, most of the people in the city of Edinburgh knew of the dog.
Many people tried to coax Bobby away from the grave. But he refused to leave. Then some of Mr. Grey’s relatives took the little dog away from the cemetery and tried to give him a home. But Bobby escaped, and returned to the grave! After a time, some of
the citizens of Edinburgh raised money to have a shelter built beside the grave. Now Bobby could take refuge from rain and snow, without leaving the graveside.
For fourteen years the little dog stayed beside his master’s grave. He became so much a part of the cemetery that he was known as Greyfriars’ Bobby. Visitors to the cemetery would see his small, gray form curled on the grass beside Grey’s grave.
Then, one morning, someone noticed that Bobby lay in a stiff, unmoving position. The little Skye Terrier was dead.
Greyfriars’ Bobby was buried next to Mr. Grey’s grave. At last, the faithful dog, who had waited so long, was with his master again.
[A year after Bobby died, the philanthropist Baroness Burdett Coutts had a statue and fountain erected to commemorate the dog. Several books and films have been based on Bobby's life, including Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Atkinson and the films Greyfriars Bobby (1961, Walt Disney Productions) and The Adventures of Greyfriars Bobby (2006).]
And the story . . .More than a hundred years ago, the great city of Edinburgh in Scotland was a busy, bustling place. The narrow, bumpy streets were filled with horse-drawn carriages, carts and wagons.
To this city every Wednesday morning came a farmer named Mr. Grey. And at his side, trotting along on short legs that moved so fast they seemed to twinkle, was Bobby. Bobby was Mr. Grey’s Skye Terrier — a small, intelligent, short-tailed kind of dog whose bright eyes and stubby legs were nearly covered by his long, flowing hair.
Mr. Grey would spend the morning at market. When the time-gun — a signal cannon that was fired at one o’clock — went off, Mr. Grey and Bobby would head for a small restaurant called Traill’s Dining Room, which was not far from Greyfriars’ Church. There, Mr. Grey and Bobby would have lunch. Lunch was always the same for the little dog — a crisp bun. Mr. Traill, who owned the restaurant, soon came to know the little dog well.
One Wednesday, the farmer and his dog did not appear at the restaurant. Several days passed. Then, one day as the time-gun sounded the hour of one o’clock, Mr. Traill was startled to see a small, thin bedraggled-looking dog standing in his doorway. It was Bobby, and he was all alone.
“Why, I believe he’s hungry,” Mr. Traill said to himself. “He’s come for a bun, same as always. But where is his master?” He took a bun and held it out to the dog. “Is that it, laddie? Are you hungry?”
Bobby took the bun, and with the quick, happy sort of skip that a hungry dog often makes when given a bit of food, turned and trotted from the restaurant. Mr. Traill watched him go, wondering what had happened. Was the little dog lost? Had something happened to his master, the farmer Grey?
Next day, at the same hour, Bobby came to the restaurant again. The kindly Mr. Traill quickly gave another bun to the hungry animal. Again, Bobby took it in his mouth and trotted off.
Overcome with curiosity, Mr. Traill followed him. With Traill close behind him, Bobby made his way to Greyfriars’ churchyard. There, near a grave that looked to Mr. Traill as if it were new, the dog lay down and began to eat his bun.
With a lump rising in his throat, Mr. Traill walked over and peered down at the simple grave marker. It bore the name of old Grey — Bobby’s master. Traill realized, now, why the dog looked so thin and uncared for. His master was dead, and little Bobby had been staying here, night and day, beside the grave. Only the terrible pangs of hunger had finally driven him to search for food. Perhaps the sound of the time-gun had reminded him of Traill’s Dining Room and the buns he had gotten there.
Traill bent over the little dog. “Come away, laddie,” he urged in a low, gentle voice. “It’s no use — your master’s gone. I’ll take care of you.” Bobby wagged his tail. But he did not budge. The man could not make him leave the grave. After a time, sadly shaking his head, Traill left.
Each day after that, always at the hour of one, Bobby came to beg for a bun, which Traill never failed to give him. The man told others about the faithful little Skye Terrier who would not leave his master’s grave. Soon, most of the people in the city of Edinburgh knew of the dog.
Many people tried to coax Bobby away from the grave. But he refused to leave. Then some of Mr. Grey’s relatives took the little dog away from the cemetery and tried to give him a home. But Bobby escaped, and returned to the grave! After a time, some of
the citizens of Edinburgh raised money to have a shelter built beside the grave. Now Bobby could take refuge from rain and snow, without leaving the graveside.
For fourteen years the little dog stayed beside his master’s grave. He became so much a part of the cemetery that he was known as Greyfriars’ Bobby. Visitors to the cemetery would see his small, gray form curled on the grass beside Grey’s grave.
Then, one morning, someone noticed that Bobby lay in a stiff, unmoving position. The little Skye Terrier was dead.
Greyfriars’ Bobby was buried next to Mr. Grey’s grave. At last, the faithful dog, who had waited so long, was with his master again.
[A year after Bobby died, the philanthropist Baroness Burdett Coutts had a statue and fountain erected to commemorate the dog. Several books and films have been based on Bobby's life, including Greyfriars Bobby by Eleanor Atkinson and the films Greyfriars Bobby (1961, Walt Disney Productions) and The Adventures of Greyfriars Bobby (2006).]
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Hey Mister Golden Deal...
Mongo is getting sick of writing about negative things. It's so easy to point out what's wrong, but what is right in the world goes largely unnoticed. Smug indifference sometimes needs to be tempered with cold hard truth.
After stopping by the shop today and chatting for a while with Boonen, "Doo Doo" Brown, Jello, and Alp d'Huez Mike, I put in a quick 25 on Ol' Lightnin'. I've been dragging a cold around with me for the past week, so my energy level and motivation are zero.
For some unknown reason, after I limped up the final climb into my driveway, I decided to change clothes and take a few runs in the backcountry on the fresh pow. I threw on my Vans and some jeans, mounted the Alva, and hit the slopes.
On the way back up the hill from one of my more technical runs...I met Hank. Though it was the first time we had officially met, Hank and I had seen each other dozens of times. Even exchanging a wave or a nod now and then. Until today, Hank was always on his front porch watching as I rolled by at high speed. I never knew whether he was shy, scared, or just unsociable. Today though, as I walked by his house, he rolled out to greet me.
On the way back up the hill from one of my more technical runs...I met Hank. Though it was the first time we had officially met, Hank and I had seen each other dozens of times. Even exchanging a wave or a nod now and then. Until today, Hank was always on his front porch watching as I rolled by at high speed. I never knew whether he was shy, scared, or just unsociable. Today though, as I walked by his house, he rolled out to greet me.
I have to be honest, I really didn't know what to expect. I was really just shocked he was approaching me. At first he asked me my name and why I wasn't wearing a helmet...then he asked if I'd ever been hurt and how fast I could get going. He then told me how much fun it looked like I was having every time he saw me go by... and how much he envied me. I was floored!
You see, what I haven't told you is this. I learned today that Hank is 86 years old and a Veteran of WWII. He was in the Pacific theatre and fought at Guadalcanal. Because of war injuries, he is paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a motorized wheelchair...and he envied me!
God bless you, Hank!...You deserve the perfect shred.
Mother
Last night when I checked my mailbox, it was stuffed with a package. Love that! (Bills don't come in squishy puffy envelopes or boxes wrapped in brown paper!).It was a gift from a past co-worker, Deborah. Our company has always been big on nicknames (it's a gift I have that doesn't go to waste in a creative work and home environment), and Deborah's nickname had been Mother. Now let me set the record straight that the name didn't come about because Deborah is a rotund, matronly woman, with an ample, snuggly bosom, a house full of little ones, and a wardrobe of floral shifts, aprons and "sensible" shoes.
Quite the contrary. Deborah is athletically slender, with that lightly freckled and weekend-at-the-lake tanned face that gets by with a light moisturizer and a swipe of lip gloss (at least that's how I think her make-up regime would be). Fashionable and spright, a ball of positive energy.
I think the nickname Mother came about because of her deeds. Always putting others first, giving of herself and her home. She is a mom (to two daughters), but sorta was mom to everyone she came in contact with at the office. You felt comfortable with her, conversations were effortless, smiles and laughter were always doled out in generous portions. She is one of those people who make you feel safe and nurtured . . . a mother.
We keep in touch via the annual Christmas letter, and I hear about her and her family via current co-workers who keep up with her more consistently via email and visits. Needless to say, when I saw the return address on the package, I was excited, curious, and I had to tinkle real badly, so I combined that little chore with opening the package (Mother would appreciate this . . . both the humor of it AND my mad skills at multi-tasking).
She sent me three vintage pillowcases, lovingly crafted tags she made (that will help build a growing collection I've started), and the most wonderful handwritten letter. Her words of praise and encouragement brought a rush of all those feelings again. How I felt in her presence. And reminded me why we call her Mother.
Oh, and by the way, she's younger than I am. So it makes calling her Mother even more fun!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
I Mean That In A Good Way
Mellow Johnny finishes 29th at the Tour Down Under. Though no Tour of California, this event did nothing to scare, or excite for that matter, those fans who are drinking the Armstrong Kool-Aid.
Mongo still predicts MJ will "not" start Le Tour. Some mysterious injury, or the old birth of my child out of wedlock excuse, will allow him to fade away after a disastrous and embarrassing Giro.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Echo Of A Solitary Siren
"Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something."
(Henry David Thoreau)
Hawaii Lifestyle Portrait
A family from Alaska visited Hawaii and had a lifestyle portrait taken. The boys enjoyed taking photos of each other with my camera!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Homecoming 2009
This weekend we had so much to look forward to. Harleigh's Homecoming game and dance. A manageable amount of chores for Mamma G. All in all, a relaxing weekend with much accomplished and downtime around the fireplace, walking the dog, and stealing an hour or two here or there to watch TV, read a book, and catch up on gabbing.For Homecoming this year, we decided an early birthday present was in order. We had Synett, a local hairstylist and makeup artist, come to the house and do Harleigh's hair and makeup for the dance. What a wonderful experience. We will most definitely use her for prom.
Trader Joe's Wine Bags
When checking out at Trader Joe's this past week (a store I don't often frequent except to buy my face soap, flowers and the best banana chips you can buy), I commented to the check-out dude how much I liked the wine bags. Take a bunch, he said. And so I took about 5. I'm sure there's a project in the making with these lovely bags. At the very least, next time I bring a bottle of wine as a hostess gift, I'm sure I could trick this bag out, covering the store name, and make a lovely presentation.
Fenton Find and Other Sweet Things
At the Goodwill yesterday I scored three vintage pillowcases and this umbrella candy bowl. I'll spray paint the umbrella handle since it's a little discolored; a perfect dish for a baby or bridal shower!Then I came across this hobnail tankard (it's really too big to be called a mug). I turned it over and it's stamped Fenton. A piece of Fenton for $1.50! This particular stamping is probably dating the piece to the 1970's. I can use it as a vase (and can turn it so you can't see the handle). I love the scallop design.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Hall Of Famer
Mongo's blogger profile tops the mystical, 3000 hit plateau.
When contacted about this historic achievement Mongo said, "What's a plateau?"
Thanks to all..."Keep on keepin' on!"
Bringing Smug To The People
It wasn't that long ago that douchiness in cycling was contained to a few small groups.First of all, there are the actual "Pros". These guys are coddled prima donnas living the rockstar lifestyle....but they deserve it. In order to be at the elite level, you have to eat like an anorexic supermodel and train year round as if your life depends on it. I'm cool with a little European snobbery every now and then.
Secondly, we have the triathletes. With their inappropriately short bibs, single purpose bikes, over developed abs, and disdain for drafting...they're just weird. Most are reluctant to engage with you if you run across one, but it always feels good to pick one off.
Finally, the most consistent source of my disdain...the weekend warrior on a pro level ride. These guys come out once a week, usually in groups of three or four, wearing their corporate kits, not riding very fast, and talking like they're on a recovery ride from a double century the day before.
This brings me to my point...
The Powertap hub is starting to become fairly common among serious cyclists. And by common, I mean one large just for the hub and computer. Now anyone rockin' a PT has the potential to up his or her D.Q. (Douche Quotient)
There are virtually limitless "zones" in which one can be training, and the excuses for bad performance are endless. You can actually say things like, "I'm not supposed to exceed 300 watts today." Then you get to go home and keep track of it all using fun, colorful, graphs.
Disclaimer...This does not include Shady Brady and Alp d'Huez Mike.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Puppy Love Tag Swap — Tag 4: Lady and the Tramp AND Tag 5: Just a pretty tag
With the addition of these two tags, I'm up to 5, with just one more to go (will finish it this weekend!).
Tag 4 takes the puppy love theme literally . . . love between two canines. And who better to represent that than Lady and the Tramp in their famous spaghetti-eating scene. I used a piece of red gingham scrapbook paper to look like a tablecloth at an Italian restaurant. The bell with hearts was a nice find; it's like the bell that people often use to train dogs.
And the leather lace trim at the top of the picture ties into leather dog toys and rawhides.
Tag 5 really has no theme. The only reference to puppy love is the collie charm. I was just really jonesin' to create a tag using certain items I had on hand that I knew would come together nicely.
Tag 4 takes the puppy love theme literally . . . love between two canines. And who better to represent that than Lady and the Tramp in their famous spaghetti-eating scene. I used a piece of red gingham scrapbook paper to look like a tablecloth at an Italian restaurant. The bell with hearts was a nice find; it's like the bell that people often use to train dogs.
And the leather lace trim at the top of the picture ties into leather dog toys and rawhides.
Tag 5 really has no theme. The only reference to puppy love is the collie charm. I was just really jonesin' to create a tag using certain items I had on hand that I knew would come together nicely.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Swimming Through Apologies
“You said I was special because I was chosen
Was I the runt of the litter or the alpha male?
You spread your love equally with no distinctions made
Why couldn't you understand my special needs and fears?
You captivated me with fantasy while I manufactured my reality
Where were you when I started hiding in my mind?
You raised me with crisis and instability as playmates
What was the life you intended for me?”
Was I the runt of the litter or the alpha male?
You spread your love equally with no distinctions made
Why couldn't you understand my special needs and fears?
You captivated me with fantasy while I manufactured my reality
Where were you when I started hiding in my mind?
You raised me with crisis and instability as playmates
What was the life you intended for me?”
Puppy Love Tag Swap — Tag 3: Dear Diary . . .
My third tag (see two posts below for links to the swap I'm participating in) is made from the cover of an old diary I bought at a flea market a year or two ago. What speaks of puppy love better than the one place we young girls knew we could retreat to and pour out our hearts.I ripped the cover off, leaving the jagged edge intact (as opposed to cutting it to a clean edge). I glued on a piece of white satin ribbon, tying it at the bottom with a diary key and a heart-shaped locket. For the "vase" I used part of the plastic vial that those eyeglass repair kits come in. Added a piece of lace, some off-white silk roses, and glued the whole thing on to look like a wall pocket vase.
For the reverse side, there's a red heart covering the end of the ribbon where it wraps around from the front. And then some scrapbooking buttons add to the vintage feel.
I hope Velma would be OK with me using her diary to make this tag!
Puppy Love Tag Swap — Tag 2: Tru Luv
Here is tag number two for Karla's Puppy Love Tag Swap. My first tag had more of an elementary school slant. This one is a teen kind of puppy love. The tag is covered in a pink canvas that mimics the blue canvas 3-ring binders we used way back when. I found a Puppy Love 45 rpm record as well as an old Tiger Beat magazine on ebay and adhered pix of those. At the bottom of the flower power ribbon is a puppy lock, reminiscent of the locks we used on our lockers. The jewel-centered silk flower is just for fun.On the back I wrote stuff, just like we did all over our binders. The floral paper covers the backs of the record and magazine (that overlap the edge of the tag).
This tag took me back to middle and high school days and all the crushes I had on boys who never even knew I existed. And this list included celebrities like Donny Osmond and David Cassidy (to whom I sent a Holly Hobbie birthday card and truly expected a reply).
Look At Me...Look At Me
In the spirit of the "Hollywood Years" of his brief retirement, when MJ was nailing actresses and singers and looking in the mirror a lot, he has decided to adopt what he believes is a local orphan with glandular problems.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Ihilani Resort Wedding: Aja & Ryan
We photographed the wedding reception of Ryan and Aja at the Ihilani Resort, Ko Olina, in late December. It was an afternoon filled with laughter, surprises, great food, song and dance.
Puppy Love Tag Swap — Tag 1: "Check yes or no"
I have been beside myself with this tag swap that Karla over at Karla's Cottage is doing. The theme is Puppy Love. It has been a blast making the tags. There are set parameters, there is a deadline (and the timeline is manageable), crafting them takes an evening or two at the most, and I have all the supplies on hand; in other words, it's been an easy project to jump right into, and there is nothing daunting about it. I will share my tags as I finish them.
Tag 1: "Check yes or no"
This tag is inspired by the crushes we all had in elementary school. Side one of the tag is covered in a page from a dictionary that has the definition for "puppy love." Over that I put a small picture of a page from a yearbook where I put a heart around one of the little boys (the crushee) something we always did in our own yearbooks.
The card slips into a glassine sleeve, and in the sleeve is a piece of pink notebook paper which has the note which was passed in class. I added a velvet ribbon which holds a pencil for checking the appropriate box.
The back side of the card is a school library check-out card. The hole in the card has a reinforcement around it (it's a bit hidden by the tack I used to hang the tag for picture taking). I added the flowers for embellishment.
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