Melicious Details

But how deep is it really?

During my month of traveling all over the place, we visited Agra, India, home of the Taj Mahal.  Since you no doubt already know exactly what the Taj Mahal looks like, I am posting two photos of other things you will see in Agra.

I loved the colors and fabrics of the beautiful saris worn by the Indian women, despite the fact that they highlighted my lack of taste and elegance while wearing traveling clothes purchased at REI. I won't be posting any photos of those.

But this sign!  Our Indian guide blamed it on the British.

He hates that the buttons on the remote are so small.

Whenever Tango sees or hears dogs on TV, he always go over to watch.  But the other night, when The (Insert Brand Name of Dog Food Here) Dog Championship was on, he took TV watching to a whole new level.

As you can see, he created the optimal viewing solution by climbing up on the table and making himself comfortable.  In this photo, he is helping judge "Evan" the Pharoh Hound.

But he was really not impressed with the Standard Poodle.

Tango stayed on the table for over an hour, watching all of the different breeds parade around the ring. I am hoping he noticed that show dogs are able to walk on a leash without making ridiculous high pitched growling noises or lunging/snarling at every dog they saw, which would be an excellent example for him to follow.

Teddi Times Four

When you don't have any children, you can turn one of the bedrooms in your house into something else.  Like a yoga studio, which is (really, I swear) why these walls are mirrored. Now that Teddi is almost completely blind, she often walks directly into a corner.  It's too bad she can't see the special effect she's created.

I know. I know. I KNOW.

Many (OK, like maybe 4) of my readers have been asking when? am I ever? ever? going to blog again?? 

First I have some good excuses about why I haven't:  I was traveling all over the place.  Then it was the holidays.  Then it was after the holidays. 

When I started doing this blogging thing, I had do idea the kind of commitment I was getting myself into. It did not occur to me that people would be actually reading it, and then wanting me to write more of it. Frequently.  So my New Year's resolution (which I have until the end of this month to declare, right?) is to be more regular.  And write more regularly. 

Speaking of my readers, two of them are named Desiree.  Seriously, I bet none of you can say you have TWO Desirees in your life.  The first and older Desiree, soon to be a Park Ranger, and also known as the Deadly Dwarf, has been my friend and co-conspirator in several Silicon Valley companies since...well, if the HP150 means anything to you, you know how long it's been.  The other Desiree is my niece, my first little girl niece, who use to sit on my lap and ask me to put "yipstick" on her.  She's now grown up and - is this cool, or what? - has her own blog where she too writes about her dog! And her life. And clearly we both just need to get focused and write more often.

He was big and ugly...

and he walked right next to my chair on the patio this afternoon, on his way to migrate straight through the back door and out the front.  I took the photo with my iphone, which I just happened to have in my hand, and waited till he got by the dog's water dish for scale.  I had to stand back though, because any second he was going to leap up, wrap several hairy legs around my ankle and sink his fangs in to me.

Making My Ears Hurt

It's that time of year when people talk about punkins.  I heard someone say it on the radio the other day and realized not only has punkin season begun, but it will soon be followed by Febawary.  Then I heard a woman say she thought Obama might be an A-rab (which made me want to ask her if she ate Eye-talian food).  This got me to thinking about all the college-educated native English speakers who scratch my chalkboard when they say something ridiculous like "Is that siren a fire engine or an amba-lance?" 

Irregardless, alls I want is a whole nother punkin.

How can you be in the mood for swimming after reading this?

Taken at Westin Hotel, Princeville, Kauai.  Photo credit:  Montanya.

Campaigning Hawaiian Style

We just returned from a week with our friends at their home in Hanalei on the island of Kauai.  If you've never been to Hanalei, you should go, I promise you will love it.  And if you have been there, you know Hanalei is in one of the most remote area of the state, on the north shore of the island, not far from where the road literally ends at Ha'ena beach.

Not reading the paper or watching the news was one of the highlights of the trip.  I was tired of hearing about John and Sarah and Barack and Joe, so happily spent a few days in a haze induced by sunshine, seawater, mai tais and the view of Bali Hai.  But it turned out not to be possible to completely escape the elections.

The campaign for Mayor of Kauai (who knew each island had it's own mayor?) was in full swing.  We found this out when we drove about 10 miles to Kilauea on the only road going south.  It's called the Kuhio Highway but do not picture anything like Highway 101 because it's a two lane road bordered by lush trees, bougainvillea and taro fields.  As we got close to town, we saw several groups of people along the side of the road.  Everyone was relaxed, sitting in beach chairs or standing in the shade of the large umbrellas they had set up.  At first I thought they might be waiting for a parade, but no, they were holding signs - the kind every political candidate prints up with their name in big letters.

One candidate's supporters were on one side of the road, while friends of the opposition were a bit farther down, on the other side.  And what exactly were they doing?  Smiling and waving at every car that drove by.  No yelling or name calling, no impersonations or finger pointing.  Just people supporting their candidates, in the most charming and civilized way.

Most Bizarre Conversation Ever.

I was in my yoga class yesterday and a woman I don't really know came up to me and said "Did I just see you walking down the street with a turtle?"

I stared at her, thinking, did she just say turtle?  Does she mean Turtle, the guy on Entourage?  Or those chocolate covered nut and caramel candies called turtles?  Or maybe she meant those little green turtles that my mom use to buy me when I was a kid until my Dad decided they would give me salmonella?  

Needing to clarify, I said,  "A turtle?"

The woman said yes.  She held her hands up in the shape of a dinner plate.  "A turtle.  A large one."

I tried to form a mental image of a woman walking a large turtle. "Was it on a leash?" 

"No", she said. (The fact that neither of us has started cracking up at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation is astounding.)  "It was just walking next to her.  So it wasn't you?"

"Um. No. It wasn't me." 

And then I had to go sit on my mat and meditate all of that out of my brain.

Breaking my own rule.

This blog is either about everything or nothing, depending on how you look at it.  But I did decide there were a few topics I wouldn't write about. Like politics.  Or religion.  Scientology is not a religion, so no problem there.  I also try to carefully balance myself on the fine line that separates honesty and oversharing.

So on to the off limits topic of politics:  I really like this point of view regarding the marketing blunders of the McCain campaign.