Patrice made an appearance

Patrice is back in Florida for a short time. She's here to attend her son's wedding in Key West, and then to babysit for her grandson in Orlando, while the newlyweds honeymoon in Costa Rica.

The gracious Pat Benjamin had a simple but sophisticated luncheon the other day in her gorgeous Seminole Heights home so that a bunch of us could get to see Patrice all at once since her Tampa time is limited. It was wonderful to hear about Patrice's life in Macedonia, and also to hear from a bunch of women who have visited her there. She'll likely be extending her Peace Corps time there for a few months, perhaps through next Spring, so I can still dream about a visit.

The people, the house, the food, the art -- it's really refreshing to take a break like that in the middle of a work day.

5 movies; 1 book

We got a lot accomplished over this three day weekend.
Oh, I did some laundry and cooking and Mark did some work in the yard and the pool. We went into Dunedin for dinner and stopped by Starbucks more than once.
But mostly, we watched movies and we read.
I read Stephen White's new Alan Gregory mystery, Dead Time. I have given up on most of the mystery series I was once addicted to, but I can't let go of either of the Kellermans, nor of this series, which is very reminiscent of Jonathan Kellerman's Alex Delaware series. I couldn't tell you anything about the stories that are the focus of each book, but the ongoing stories of the friends and family surrounding Gregory are good ones, and I'm always glad to get back to these characters.
We watched three DVDs from the library.
Gray Matters was very light and silly, pretty much a waste of time except for the nice NY scenery.
Gone Baby Gone was very good, story and acting, and quite true to the book. I wonder if the rest of the series (I love the Angie and Patrick stories by Dennis Lehane) will turn up on film one of these days.
Elizabeth The Golden Age was another good Elizabeth story with Cate Blanchet, Clive Owen, Geoffrey Rush. I just love these fancy British historical stories, so full of melodrama and insanity.
We tried to watch Knocked Up on HBO. I don't quite get why anyone who's made it beyond middle school would watch this kind of thing, nor why A. O. Scott gave it a good review. We did not make it more than halfway through.
Best film of the weekend, no competition, was the new HBO movie, Recount. Superb acting and writing and quite a drama even though we know all this stuff. Still shocking, disturbing, amazing.
And here we go again....

Pretty Runs Out

She's different in person.
Last night we listened to Pretty Runs Out, the new Amanda Shaw album we picked up at Tropical Heatwave last week. It's a lot of country pop and a little of her great fiddling.
In person she was wild, playing her fiddle with incredible energy and joy, flying around the stage. Backed up by the wonderful, middle-aged Cute Boys (did I mention Amanda is only 17?) the music was exhilerating, impossible to stay still while listening.
She sang a few songs, including the title song of the new album. But mostly she played.
The album is mostly Amanda singing. She has a good voice, it's just very much pop and a lot less interesting than her playing. Oh well, maybe we'll donate it to the end of the year record and book sale at WMNF.

We had a Heatwave!

Last weekend was Tropical Heatwave, WMNF's annual festival where you can hear dozens of bands and dance a lot.

My absolute favorite this year was Amanda Shaw and the Cute Boys -- here's a tiny taste.

We saw a bunch of other bands -- these guys are The Blue Vipers of Brooklyn and they normally play in the subway. They were fun but played too much of the music my grandmother used to sing for my taste.

And here's Graham Parker. He was great though I'm not a fan of the Cuban Club Cantina as a venue.

When we tired of the crowds we walked down to 7th Avenue in Ybor City and had some crepes for dessert.

A good night in Tampa.

Bad Boy Dylan -- the first, and disgusting, reason

Last week, while we were out in the yard, I saw Dylan eat dog poop.

It was a pretty morning, warm and clear, and I was inhaling the sweet, humid air, watching dogs roam and sniff, not really thinking about the day, sipping my cooling coffee.

And then Dylan did the most disgusting thing a dog can do.

It wasn't his own, in fact I am pretty sure it was Sarah's, a dog who was visiting us while her parents were away, but that's not the point. He ATE poop. I saw the first gobble, screamed at him to stop, and he quickly grabbed another mouthful before I could reach him. Furious and disgusted, I grabbed him and took him inside, breathing shallowly, I covered his face with soap so he could spend all morning trying to lick it off. I couldn't bring myself to stick a finger in his mouth but I did stick a soapy rag in there. YUCK!

It took a few days for me to feel good about cuddling him, but I was beginning to melt.

Then, I read this. Dooce's dog does it too!

OK, I know dogs do this, I've had dogs do it before. (But not Dylan, at least not that I knew about.) What struck me about Dooce's post is how she completely nailed my feeling about it. I cannot bring myself to think of him in quite the same way. I certainly cannot bring myself to kiss him on the mouth (something I normally do daily, and I don't want to hear what you think about that).

I know in time this memory will receed (though writing about it is not the fastest way to make sure of that). And I love Dylan as much as ever, in spite of the poop, in spite of his bad doggy behavior this morning. And I hope/know that Coco will grow into a wonderful clean mouthed dog that Dooce can love as much as she loves Chuck, and as much as I love Daisy, Marley, and of course, Dylan.

Bad Boy Dylan -- the second reason

When we heard him barking we looked at each other in panic. We began walking fast, then sort of running, then really running. Each of us with a dog on a leash.

We left the house as usual in the dawn with three dogs, but Dylan, prissy boy that he can be, did not appreciate the light drizzle and refused to budge out of the driveway. Annoyed at his stubborness which he'd been exhibiting more and more lately, I just took off his leash. And left him standing at the front door, under cover, while Mark and I took our walk with Daisy and Marley. Dylan could wait all by himself till we got back.

We walked briskly since it was raining and the dogs needed to do their thing so we could get to work. Once Daisy and Marley took care of business we turned back, short for a walk but Dylan was outside on his own.

Mark was nervous. I was confident. I was wrong.

So we heard the barking and my first thought was he's just standing in front of the door getting annoyed with us, but then I saw the jogger.

And I saw a small dog at her heels. And it looked like Dylan. That's when we started running.

Then the barking got louder and turned into a chorus. Someone else was walking her dogs, and like a good dog parent and a good neighbor, hers were both on leashes. But there was Dylan, leaving the heels of the jogger and running across the street to confront the leashed dogs. Fortunately the good dog parent waited with Dylan until we got there. I tried to think of an excuse but nothing came to me. Just said "sorry" and "thanks" and leashed the bad boy.

And thought about how easy it would have been to open the front door and let him go in, instead of trying to punish him by having him stand alone, outside, until we returned.

But I have been angry at Dylan, who I must say is the cutest, sweetest (usually), smartest dog. He's more like a baby to me than a dog. Now Daisy, there's a dog, a big dog. And Marley, he's small like Dylan, but he's all dog. Not Dylan. Dylan is much closer to human. Most of the time.

(Stay tuned for the first reason....)

Gorgeous Bride, Groom with Style

East Side Bride, another wedding blog, has noticed my beautiful kids!