Welcome, Allegra!

caywood-- We are filled with excitement and joy because our friend, Allegra, is visiting! Background: Allegra and Anisa met during their salad days in college, when their dorm rooms were within shouting distance across the hallway. These were the days when dorm phone calls were made in phone booths (where irritating people with no respect for the environment would leave on the phone booth's light after leaving the booth. Why? Can you tell me that? Do they only think of theselves?), Wifi was but a glimmer in your father's eye, and meals were had in the regular ol' campus dining hall.

How things have changed.

But what hasn't changed is Allegra's complete and total kick-ass awesomeness as a friend. We love Aleegra and are so excited she is here. O Allegra, you complete us.

Also visiting: A new friend! Seneca, the friendly and supersmart border collie from down the road. Seneca is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in thermodynamics, and in his spare time constructs challenging puzzles for keeping the human mind sharp. Cuddling and loveable, Seneca also shows amazing emotional intelligence. He shows respect for his elders (Bella) and for those of other species (Ruby). Yay, Seneca!

Notice to all other friends: Come visit Caywood before our special guests leave! You are most welcome to join the fun.

Wisteria & Friends

caywood-- Walked out the front door this morning and-- surprise!-- the wisteria was blooming! Thanks, Jay, for planting it! It is delightful!

Other new bloomers in the garden include:
-- Sweet peas. At last! I thought you guys were supposed to be partial to a our cool English springtime, not our hot steamy summer? Guess I'm wrong!
-- Foxglove. Ditto the above.
-- Gladiola. First one. Yay!

These signs of life are most welcome after a period of neglect (high weeds), followed by a period of guilt-driven and overzealous weeding (yanking everything). We're still learning!

Notice: You have been pre-approved as the lucky recipient of some yellow squash. If we discover you are traveling within a 50-mile radius of Caywood, we are locking you in to the contract, er, prize package.

Rural Cocktail Report

between here and there—Faithful friends know we keep vigil over the reader board at Rascal’s, a local watering hole, because the weekly special and the weekend entertainment listings often combine to read as a one item from a gruesome menu. Such felicitous pairings have teamed to create “Stroganoff Cats” and “Pork Chops Phizz.”

After three years of knowing Rascal’s only as a nodding acquaintance at 55 (okay, 65) mph, we were given occasion to understand our neighbor better: Our pal Nhu orchestrated a rural (dive) bar crawl, and put Rascal’s at the top of her list. Here’s the short report on last weekend’s fun.

Rascal’s: What’s not to love in a place that has a bar carpeted with a carpet whose shag is at least 2 inches long, and whose color is sort of Hawaiian-Punch-meets-fiberglass-insulation-and-is-left-to-fade-in-the-sun-for a-few-weeks?

Rascal’s also had the following going for it
--The bar maid was super nice (“Thanks for stopping in, now,” as we left)
--The French fries (two kinds! a packaged chip alternative a bit like a potato-y Cheeto without the cheese dust, and the “authentic” hot, fried, potato kind) were delicious
--The metal music was loud
--White table cloths in the music/restaurant/lounge area
--Summer salad bar!

Not going for it
--Bunker-like atmosphere of the entry way pervades the establishment
--Hostile stares from the regulars
--Someone not happy about “their” stool being occupied by one of us, probably me

All in all, Nhu and I agreed we’d definitely go to Rascal’s again, which caused Kit and Karen to cringe in confusion and horror. Perhaps differing opinions of the place resulted from the fact that Nhu and I were sitting at the corner of the bar and were thus shielded from some of the stare-downs that K and K had to endure. Or, maybe it’s just because we love French fries and salad bars THAT much.

Next stop was the new (opened during our tenure at Caywood, and thus is nothing but an upstart) miniature golf place in Tburg. Now no one was less enthused about this place than me when it first opened-- shameful greenfield development! Light pollution! Sprawl!—but now I’m a total convert! I loved the landscaping choices, was challenged by the difficulty of the course, and loved the nets they provided for fishing one’s errant golf ball from the ponds and fountains. The soundtrack was somehow bearable for its appropriateness to the setting--Casey Kasem's Top 100 Countdown of the Best Songs of All Time-- and our enjoyment of it was enhanced by Kit's sharing of this gem. Liz and Pete had joined us here on bicycle and a merry putting party we made, delaying many a putter behind us. Can we help it if we arrived at precisely the right time, when there was but one other party on the green? We also finished just in the nick of time, as lightning was forking from the sky and the heavens opened. No alcohol served here so we pushed on to Barangus.

I’ve been admiring Barangus ever since we moved here. If not for the bull on the roof then for the lovely job they did painting the place a while back—cobalt blue with orange pinstripes. We steeled ourselves for once again being viewed as outcasts and burst on in.

Going for it
--Horseshoe bar
--Handsome varnished wood tables and stools
--Many a mixed metaphor dart game
--All-Star Family Band (not a permanent fixture)
--Friendly drunk person (possibly a permanent fixture)
--Tab: $18 for 6 people including one mixed drink—WHAT?!

Not going for it
--No shag carpet along the bar
--Only liquid nourishment

All agreed that Barangus definitely rates a return visit. However, I will not let my guard down. While we could always be assured of a hostile reception (except for the super nice bar maid) at Rascal’s, Barangus could be lulling us into a feeling of welcome that is conditional... contingent on the All-Star Family Band being there, or the drunk lady at the bar. I like to know what I’m getting into. Racal’s is a known quantity, while Barangus keeps a person guessing.

Best not to sit with your back to the door.

Biscuit v. Bacon

caywood-- Bella saw me fumbling around with a chicken carcass in the kitchen the other day, and came over to be ready in case I dropped it on the floor.

Given that a) the carcass was a key component of this week's meal plan, b) I wasn't being successful extracting any leftover meat from the bone, and c) chicken bones are BAD for dogs, there was no chicken-flavored treat in the stars for Bella. A doggy biscuit was offered in consolation. She took it politely, then set it on the floor and laid down about 6 feet away from it. You don't have to be an animal communicator to know she was thinking, "If I were at Grandma and Pap Pap's house, I'd be chewing on a piece of bacon right now."

The biscuit stayed there the rest of the afternoon.

Old Dog Learns New Trick

Caywood-- Bella has just returned from an extended vacation with her grandparents in Pennsylvania where, in addition to non-stop love, attention, and positive reinforcement, she was treated to A/C, numerous opportunities to pursue her third favorite hobby (following the riding mower), visits from all her friends and extended family, and bedtime stories every night.

Is it any wonder she’s been laying around on the plank floor (cooler there) sighing heavily since her return?

No, because grandparents are a hard act to follow.

In an effort to lift the spirits of our bored brown-eyed friend-- and provide a measure of entertainment for both of us-- I invited Bella along on the short jaunt over to Wagner Vineyards to fetch a bottle of Reserve Red for dinner. Soon we were meandering down the tree-lined lane, admiring the shade the mature leaves and vines of summer provide. Or, one of us admired. One of us was just hot, thank you very much. Bella’s pace is always sedate, but we were not even at the farmer’s house before she lagged 25 yards behind. My cheerful chattering elicited not a single wag. Stumbling upon a staff meeting of the Caywood Area Rabbit Retinue’s Organizing Team (CARR-OT) did nothing to perk Bella up-- bunnies previously converged in the middle of the lane scattered right and left without a notice from our hangdog hound. Only then did I remember that Bella had taken a mile-long walk this morning with Karen. How many miles does your average 12 year old dog usually walk each day?

I vowed that if the farmer was in his field when we got there, I would ask if Bella could stay with him while I ran my errand. However, the farm machines were still when we got there and no one was about. Onward Bella trudged.

We reached the halfway mark as we turned onto the dirt road leading to Wagner’s. Here, Bella started her patented serpentine maneuver (usually reserved for climbing the steep Amish stairway) on the extremely gentle slope through the vineyard, and I knew I needed to take action. There was one spot of shade ahead, near the ditch and but a few hundred yards from the winery. I tied her to a tree, encouraged her to rest in the cool grass, and reassured her several times before I trotted off to make my purchase.

Ten minutes later, I was bounding back down the road. But wait, isn’t this the spot I tied Bella? Bella! Be-lllllllllllllllllllllla! BELLA? Where was she? Had she headed toward the cool water in the ditch and hung herself? My poor old puppy! Why had I taken her on this death march? I crashed through the brush following the line… and came up empty-handed.

She’d managed to sever the supposedly-reinforced nylon of the leash.

After more calling and more exploration of the poison-ivy filled reaches of the ditch, after heading home because I decided she’d go that way but then doubting myself and doubling back, I saw a dot growing on the rise of the road. Make that two dots. Someone walking a dog? Is it? Could it be? I could make out a taaaaaan looking dog. Yes, definitely tan. On a short leash. And are those white mittens? Yes, the dog’s paws were definitely white. Yes! That was her!

Phil, Bella’s rescuer, handed her off at me saying she had been found wandering around at the (wait for it) Ginny Lee restaurant. Undoubtedly pursuing her first-and second-favorite hobbies: scavenging for food and garbage.

Who knows how she managed to escape her not-at-all-worn-out superstrong leash so quickly? Bella alone knows the answer to that. Yeah, baby. She's still got a trick or two tucked in those mittens of hers. Now who you callin' old?

California Knows How to Party

Silverlake-- That's right.