My dog had to go to the hospital recently.

No, not Edgar Von WauWau. He is not mine. He's a rescue for whom I am temporarily responsible.

My Lab, Tyler, my first-born son, the dog no one will ever be allowed to adopt.

This is because he was not eating, throwing up and limp - energy wise.

So he's back in rare form, right? Eating garbage and cat turds with the best of 'em.

Today, after a whole week hiatus, he came to work with me and didn't miss a beat. He ate a whole box of chocolates while I was at Lowe's.

Now he's drooling on the carpet behind me farting up a storm and it's pissing rain outside (again) so I can't even take him for a walk.

Hope he can hold it. Hope I can stand it.

Speaking of rain:
I was going to buy the windows to install in the shed to create the look and feel (and environment) I had envisioned for the thing. A potting shed should not look like and afterthought, after all, but like something inviting that makes you want to go out in it and smoke pot. But I digress.
I did not buy the windows. I realized that I was envisioning the whole project as if I could set up saw horses outside and create the frames and all with a skill saw and such.
Am I smoking crack? It's going to rain, piss, storm, pour and otherwise percipitate all weekend.
One image, conjured amid the 1,000s of feet of lumber at Lowe's, of the dining room full of sawdust and I had put the project on hold for a while. It should be good enough that the dogs are getting an a/c unit and a dog door.

An addition to my loss list:
Christine Spindler, Marky and Stout -- gone to San Diego for a new job opportunity and to find out by comparison exactly how cheap it is to live in Texas.
Mike Weisert -- moving back to San Jose to be with Lauren. Not even gone yet and I'm sad.
Frank -- Living and climbing in NYC. Avoid the old stone buildings. People threaten to arrest you when you climb old stone buildings.

Giving my race a bad reputation:
Germans. You can't blame yourself for not loving 'em. They do it to themselves. I know. I am one. They are so damned serious and focused all the time. And effective. And driven. And always, always working. Luckily I suffer from a spilt personality disorder. I am an American as well. But then someone, someone who works for our new owners, doesn't get my humor and I am reminded. Germans do not laugh at the office. They take nothing lightly. And they rarely disobey the order of the way things ought to be. Sometimes I think I'm tired because I have had to retrain major parts of my personality to not believe that there is always a way that things ought to be. Other times, I actually remember that I injested wheat. But again, I digress. Never ever try to make friends with a German co-worker via humor. It will not pump them up.

"Sting" ing criticism: OK, so the Police Concert was expensive, a bit over-hyped and somewhat predictable (set lists posted all over the Internet), but why the nasty, hateful critiques? No, they were not perfect -- that's for studios and recording sessions and production additions. No, they were not as good as they were in the early 80s -- that's for current bands with current hits on current tours. No -- they were not good. They were greatness. It was great that you could see their expressions when they flubbed the notes. It was great that they slowed things down, changed a few keys, made their songs their own. It was great that they played all their hits, took us down memory lane and seemed to be getting along. Lots of mistakes were made. They were mellow older guys and they were playing 25-30 year old songs. It's what everyone should have expected. Want a great, current, energetic rock show? Go see someone else!

I did the stupidest thing ever this week:
On Monday Night, I spent hours making the filling for Chicken Pot Pie. Then I topped it with biscuit dough and popped it in the oven. I then went off to do a few other things, got tired and went to bed. The next morning: Charcoal Brickets. A wonder I didn't burn the whole house down.

Tyler, btw., thought they tasted just fine.