Stella’s eight now, with white on her eyes and muzzle, but she’s been orchestrating my existence since she was just a tiny squirrel only 8 weeks old. In those first days, her ears could not even hold their own weight yet, but even then she had the wiles and guile to bend others to her will, which usually involved snax and belly worship. I have to work to be the top dog, but Stella, she just is.
This was a lazy morning shot, taken to see how my new boyfriend, the Sigma 50mm asskicking portrait-honcho lens, handles himself wide open (which, in this case, is f1.4…HAWT!). Even though I got the white balance all wrong according to my photography teacher, just CHECK OUT THAT BOKEH. And don’t be fooled by Stella’s expression. She may look like a dog of a certain age in thoughtful repose, but you can see what’s really on her mind: THIS BELLY’S NOT GONNA PET ITSELF, HUMAN.
My assignment this week is portraits, portraits, and more portraits. So c’mon over and lemme take your picture…
During my family’s Thanksgiving in Kansas City, we fit six large adults and eight mostly small mutts on one super-sized sectional couch for a trypto-coma viewing of Wedding Crashers.
The dogs were little aces on the trip; the pee-to-joy ration was well worth it. And as you see, they’re part of my lap’s landscape.
So if I have to say what I’m thankful for, it’s them, and everyone else on that ship of a sectional.
Little Lemmy rides on daddy, double-fisting a biscuit and lollipop:
One bite of dinner, a little lick of dessert. Sounds like the day most Americans have planned, between the football and the doorbusters.
The mutts and I are headed down to Kansas City to join the larger family for another thanksgiving/birthday celebration (because THE FUN, SHE JUST WON’T QUIT). The three local dogs are already grappling with my parent’s three chihuahuas. Once Stella and Archie hit town, we’ll witness a perfect storm of inappropriate pissing.
“We have gallons of enzymatic pee spray,” my brave sister said. “And a carpet steamer. So come on down!” We should all be so warmly welcomed. Here’s hoping Black Friday is good to you and yours, with fetching leftovers and plenty of pee spray.
Of course we know better than to leave our purse on the floor around here:
Doh!
That’s an entire pack of Sweet Mint gum and a Tangerine lipbalm from Whole Foods in Omaha. All gone.
And we should know better than to leave the kitchen garbage on the back porch because we don’t feel like taking it all the way to the alley (although we do that all the time). But we don’t usually let the dogs out while it’s back there.
To the victor go the spoils. Well played, Stella the Destroyer:
Kudos to your thickset hench-thug, as well:
Secure your valuables, people. And for god’s sake, take the trash all the way out.
It’s 99 degrees today and I’m draped across my office chair, feeling like a stunned mullet. And that’s inside, where the air is conditioned to an arctic degree. But the heat has a hold on us all; it pierces walls, dews brows, saps drive. I haven’t recovered from my trip out for lunch and Stella, oh Stella! The poor pup is stretched out on the hardwood looking like someone shot her dead:
I feel like a hummingbird today, circling the surface of a thousand things, unable to stop and settle into any one of them. It may be the 40 cups of tea I’ve had already, or perhaps it’s the many and various times I woke up last night to scrawl now-unreadable ideas for the white paper I’m writing. So let me flit…. (more…)
Why, yes, I am posting a Backstreet Boys video. It’s been that kind of week. But this bird’s got rhythm, and there’s something about his high kicks that just made the sun come out in my grey neighborhood. No lie! It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiney day, thanks to Snowball here.
I’m still recovering from my trip, and a possible swine flu infection. Or perhaps it’s the fact that I gone out every night but two in the past two weeks. (Me! A homebody so dedicated my couch has a me-shaped dent!) But really, has anyone sneezed in the last 5 days and not felt those fear-darts of inevitable infection inside? IT’S THE PLAGUE, the reptile part of my brain tells me, every time I get sniffly or fevered or nap-happy. Of course, that’s the same center of brain activity that lights up when people watch Glenn Beck or brandish Tea’d Off signs, so I try to keep reptilian conclusion-jumping to a minimum here at Casa Rudder. And videos like these help, speaking as they do to the higher brain functions of awww and adorbs. More cute, less Newt!
Luckily, a squadron of young misses with mops is here to bring order to the homestead. I came back to the same mess I left behind, with more dust and fewer ants (deadly poison, hurrah!), and it’s become quite clear that I need more minions. Perhaps I can find an enterprising young person who will help me paint the rooms that need painting and price the junk that’s been gathering in the corner, waiting for a wasted weekend of exchanging crap for cash. (Let it be a load on someone else’s soul, I figure. I’m almost ready to give up and haul it to Goodwill, though, which is my usual lazyass default.)
Got a broke nephew or underemployed offspring? Let me know in comments. Ten bucks an hour, paid in cash. I’ll even supply pizza on the final day, if there’s been any sort of attention to detail AT ALL. Anyone considered, and I’d be willing to host a visitor, if you’re itching to see Lincoln. This ain’t a bad time to visit, what with the better weather and all the trees in ridiculous bloom:
Yes, that’s taken from my front porch. I think it’s a Red Bud, although perhaps the Subtle Father could weigh in with the proper make and model?
PS: Upon 8th viewing of the video, it occurs to me that Snowball’s leg action reminds me of the extravagant back kicks Stella does when she’s peed on some other dog’s pee. It’s an in-your-face fandango of top doggery; very West Side Story cut-a-bitch. I’ll try and capture it on video for your delectation.
