Entry #44

Entry #44

Saturday, February 18

11:00 a.m. Noah and I were supposed to be at the Montgomery County Shelter, helping wash dogs in preparation for transport back east, but there was a major storm here last night, so everything is postponed.

Having grown up in Ohio, I’ve experienced my share of varying weather patterns, but I don’t recall storms being as intense as they are in Texas. At about 5:00 this morning, we heard an enormous BOOM!, causing both Izzie and Noah to clamber to our beds (Aidan slept right through it). David looked outside and saw a tree floating in our swimming pool (moved to the patio below). I guess lightning must’ve struck dangerously close to our house.

5:00 p.m. We just returned from an Operation Pets Alive adoption event at the local PetCo and brought home a puppy. (I might as well have a tattoo of the word sucker written in large, ornate letters across my forehead.) Granted, we’re fostering him, but still...He’s a Newfoundland, or a Newfie mix (as you can see from the photo below—he made himself comfortable on Noah's shag carpet-covered longboard), and is unbelievably sweet and adorable. Having grown up with a Newfoundland, I fell instantly in love. Holding him for three hours didn’t hurt either.

The dogs we initially watched made me very thankful that Izzie is as good-natured and socialized as she is. One dog, Tank, seemed mellow and affectionate until a yellow lab walked by, prompting him to growl and bark ferociously.

Tank has obviously had a rough life. He has a big, beautiful head, but his body is scrawny—he could use another 20 pounds on his bony frame.

Another dog, also quite sweet with humans, is a Pitt Bull named Hook. He was given this name after being found with a metal hook in his neck and had to be operated on to remove it. Heartbreaking.

The third dog, a feral Pitt mix was terrified of people and aggressive towards other animals. This trio of dogs, needless to say, was not considered easily adoptible.

I took Tank for a walk after he sprayed a toy display in the store. He marked ten different spots over the course of a five minute walk, obviously feeling the need to spread his unique “Scent by Tank” around the parking lot.

When the event was over, we walked the puppy home. Izzie played with him for hours, until both settled into tired heaps. Seems they’re a compatible duo.

Sunday, February 19

11:00 a.m. It’s late morning on a Sunday and the weather is GLORIOUS. Oddly, there was not a soul to be found outside, except for some lawn people working on our neighbor’s yard. Where are our neighbors? Since the street was completely empty, I sat in the middle of our cul-de-sac, soaking up the rays with Izzie and the puppy.

3:00 p.m. Still not a sign of humans today, on the most beautiful day I’ve seen since arriving here six months ago. Where are the people here? David and I sat in the sun for a bit, but the puppy’s black fur seemed to be getting too warm, so we moved to the shade and sat for the first time on the benches in the center of the cul-de-sac. What an odd place for benches. Had anyone in the area been outside, we would’ve felt like we were on display, but instead it just felt odd, two old, splintering benches perched atop a tiny circlet of public space. We stayed there about fifteen minutes then went back inside.

Monday, February 20

8:00 a.m. Happy Presidents’ Day! Once again, ours is the only house on the street without a large American flag staked in the front lawn. It's not that we're unpatriotic; we just don't own a flag. We might need to invest in one soon, however, since we're starting to look suspicious, not having decorated for Christmas or Thanksgiving or Halloween or Valentine's Day or the NFL playoffs.

Our next-door-neighbor collects flags. So far I’ve seen her display about a dozen different designs. Today she has two flags in front of her house: a springtime flower and an American flag.

The Woodlands Civic Association has created an entire page devoted to “American Flag Etiquette” (albeit, with incorrect grammar and punctuation, as you will see in the following paragraph):

It has comes to our attention, the Woodlands Civic Association, that there are some houses that are displaying the American flag incorrectly. So to insure the proper display of our American Flag, the Woodland’s newsletter has included some of the rules for your benefit. You may also inquire on additional rules on the Internet.

There are more than 14 rules concerning flag positioning/placement that are so tedious, I actually couldn't get through the list without my eyes glazing over. I can only imagine that the person who compiled this list did so while sitting up ramrod (or rather, flag pole) straight with his/her pressed shirt buttoned up to the very top, each hair slicked (or bobby-pinned) in place, shoes shined, belt buckle polished, undergarments bleached and ironed.

Here are a few snooze-worthy examples:

·       When the flag is suspended over a sidewalk from a rope extending from a house to a pole at the edge of the sidewalk, the flag should be hoisted out, union first, from the building.

·       When the flag is displayed on a car, the staff shall be fixed firmly to the chassis or clamped to the right fender.

·       When hung in a window, place the blue union in the upper left, as viewed from the street.

10:00 a.m. Training a puppy is a bit like having a newborn, except newborns don’t play tug-of-war and run all over the house, then squat and pee in a corner. The first night, Toby (now renamed Teddy by my sister’s family, who will be adopting him) slept the entire night with Aidan, while Izzie slept with me (or rather, on top of me. I think she was feeling a bit clingy.).

I was waiting for Teddy to be placed in the nearby crate, but it never happened. Regardless, he did sleep through the night (with Aidan), which was miraculous.

Last night, Teddy slept with us, again through the entire night. Hallelujah! Plus he seems to be learning the meaning of “go potty,” as he’s been relieving himself outside (I take him out about a zillion times a day thus far, just to be on the safe side). He’s learned sit, and also knows where we keep the food and treats. Very smart little pooch.

Izzie’s been a great teacher in terms of socializing, but she also acts like the older sibling who’s rediscovering all the toys she had absolutely no interest in before the arrival of her baby brother. Whatever Teddy seems to be chewing on is exactly what Izzie wants. The prized toy of the moment is a decapitated stuffed dog. Izzie was carrying the little head in her mouth, which is the size of a ping-pong ball. How the two pups managed to play tug-of-war with this micro-toy is beyond me. Seems the ears helped.

11:30 a.m. A man just came to the door carrying a massive chainsaw. Remember the movie Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Okay, the thought was fleeting, especially when I remembered the fallen tree out back. I'm just glad I can now dispel the negative connotation of Texans bearing chain saws (and live to tell the tale).

My next-door-neighbor recently created his own "Texas chainsaw massacre" in his front yard, hacking away at countless tree branches and making an enormous mess. I think he was mighty proud of himself, kind of like a boy with his first hammer, pounding nails into just about anything. “Thank God for chain saws!” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. His wife was not pleased.

1:30 p.m. Mardi Gras is tomorrow, and I’m told it’s a big event around here, only I can’t find much of anything going on. I did a Google search and all I could find in The Woodlands was “Mardi Gras Madness at Camp Bow Wow" (a doggie daycare facility), an Annual Mardi Gras Progressive Dinner Parade at the local Alzheimer’s Independent Living Facility and a party at a local wine bar (not exactly a family-friendly event). There’s got to be more going outside The Bubble.

5:00 p.m. Noah just discovered why our street always has large American flags in front of every house on flag-appropriate holidays. There’s actually flag delivery service here! Noah noticed someone in a flat-bed truck gathering up all the flags. No wonder we haven’t seen any neighbors putting up flags—they have someone doing it for them. Not only do people not mow their own lawns, they don’t even stake their own flags. 

Tuesday, February 21

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Papa Bob

10:00 a.m. It’s Fat Tuesday, so one would expect there to be some jazzy stuff going on around here. Seems The Woodlands doesn’t partake in Mardi Gras festivities. Businesses are fully focused on Easter, even though there’s still St. Patrick’s Day, Leap Day, Purim, International Earth Day, and April Fool’s Day to celebrate before then. Our neighbor has already strewn an array of oversize plastic Easter eggs across her front lawn.

Samuel Colt patented the revolver on February 25 sometime ago. Don’t you think that would be cause for celebration in Texas? Yellowstone became the first National Park on February 29, 1972. That’s definitely worth some fireworks or chocolate buffalos, don’t you think? Did you know that March 1 is National Pig Day? March 2 is Old Stuff Day. March 8 is Popcorn Lover’s Day, one I'll definitely need to celebrate. Who makes up these wacky holidays anyhow? I’m still working towards my Guiness Book of World’s Records record for highest pot of popcorn popped. So far, this is my personal best:

4:30 p.m. I set out a bunch of snacks for the kids, since I have to go to a writing class soon. Among those snacks was sliced turkey for Aidan. Little did I know that the puppy has a particular fondness for turkey. I walked upstairs and heard Noah saying, “Mom, Teddy keeps climbing on the table.” He quickly learned how to get onto the chair, then onto the table, and repeated this acrobatic feat five times before Noah finally put the turkey on the floor, pushed the chairs all the way in, and called it a day. At full height, Teddy will probably be able to lick food right off the table. The command “off” will be a must, especially around Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, February 22

10:00 p.m. On the way to my writing class, I put on my turning signal, with hopes of getting onto the right lane to enter the freeway, only no one would let me  in. Finally, a woman gave me the “thumbs up,” for which I raised my hand in thanks, expecting she’d let me go in front of her. Instead, she shook her head vigorously, as if to say, “What an idiot. Who do you think you are wanting to get in now?” So that thumbs up was not really saying, “Go ahead,” but “Good going, suckah! People turn into lame meanies behind the wheel, even seemingly innocent middle-aged women. Changing lanes is nary impossible.

En route, I drove next to an 18-wheeler with a couple of decals printed on the door. One had a cross with the message, “In Loving Memory of Mom.” The way this was printed reminded me of sailors with heart-shaped "Mom" arm tattoos. After all, truckers can be mama’s boys, too.

It’s been very warm and humid outside, and the fountains are going once again. I saw a brilliant design that I haven’t seen before on my way to class—a dandelion. Misty trails of water gave it a magical effect.

During class, we had an interesting writing exercise. We were asked to discuss “an issue” that was important to us, and intersperse both our opinion and facts on the matter. One student discussed her shock at the way her 11-year-old son’s essay was graded—instantaneously—by a computer! He didn’t really even know how to type, but was required to do so in order to complete an online writing assignment. Despite the fact that, according to his mom, it was a charming and very age-appropriate piece, the resulting grade was poor because he didn’t use more “sophisticated language.”

“He sounded like an eleven-year-old boy!” said his mom, exasperated. How can a piece of electronic equipment put a grade on something that's inherently subjective? I can understand how a computer could grade a math or science problem, but a random essay? Sure, it makes life easier for an overwhelmed teacher, but what is this actually teaching? 

During break, I noticed a poster for an upcoming speaker, a poet named Christian Wiman. How challenging would it be for a man to grow up with a name that sounds like “Christian Women”? What if he was an atheist? Another religion altogether? True, his name is probably pronounced “Christian Why-Man?” but at first glance, I thought otherwise. He must’ve really appreciated Johnny Cash’s song, “A Man Named Sue.”

 Thursday, February 23

1:30 p.m. Just last week I was wearing a parka, hat and gloves, and today it’s 84 degrees with 91 percent humidity. Because it’s so hot and muggy, Izzie’s taken to going in the swimming pool, only as deep as the second step. She just stands there and smiles, as if to say, “Aaaaaahhh.” I put Teddy on the first step and he looked pretty darn pleased with himself. Newfies are water dogs—they even have webbed feet—so Teddy was a natural. When he got out, however, he looked like a scrawny, bedraggled mutt. Both he and Izzie proceeded to run around the muddy, mucky yard, so baths were definitely in order. They now smell and look much more presentable, and Teddy’s now back to his fluffball self.

8:30 p.m. I’d read on Huffington Post this morning that while Newt Gingrich is giving up desserts for Lent, his wife, Callista, is giving up “her opinion.” By the look of this picture, it seems like Mrs. Gingrich is trying to project a definite opinion about something through her eyes. Or perhaps she’s casting a spell.

Another interesting article today featured a woman in England who’s eaten nothing but cheese pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the last 31 years. Only now are her doctors telling her that this “monotonous diet” could kill her. The article sites a related story, that of Jonathan McGowan, another Brit who, for the past 30 years, has refused to eat any meat except roadkill. This man should move to Texas. He’d be fat and happy, and the streets would look much cleaner. Today alone he could’ve had a fresh skunk, a squirrel, and some other unidenfiable meaty bits strewn across three lanes. Delish.