Day (and-a-half) Tripper

I've been on a trip for the last three days. And I haven't gone anywhere.

Suffice to say that even though my doctor thinks I need to mellow out a bit more, this last drug he prescribed for me isn't the answer. While I wouldn't exactly call my state of mind mellow, catatonic comes close.

Even Marilee, last night on a cheap date at Costco, said I wasn't being Bob. She caught me more than once just staring off into space. Now, while we do enjoy watching people at Costco, it's far more fun watching Marilee watch people. Intent stares at other people is one thing. And I don't know if while I was staring off if she looked to see where I was looking, but even I have caught myself staring for minutes at a time. At nothing in particular.

I haven't been into work for a day-and-a-half. I was off on a service call to Rowley on the other side of the lake when catatonic happened. Heading out via highway 201, I caught myself turning around at highway 202. BTW, it's the only place in Utah where two state highways only a number apart intersect. [There's the old Bob showing up]

But turning around didn't happen. Highway 202 then intersects with Interstate 80 after a mile or so, and that leg of I-80 back towards I-215 is a hell of a long drive when you're having second thoughts about driving any distance.

Weird feeling, having this particular drug coursing through my veins. Not that it's particularly powerful, but that it's now the second additional anti-depressant that's affected me in a negative way. And the side-effects (at least the reported side effects) don't help matters. Agitated and sweating are in there - while catatonic isn't listed, I awoke to a pool of sweat a la "wet spot" at least twice since Sunday, but I also erupted at my old boss Monday afternoon just before I turned around and went home. And since when is agitated helpful as a side effect for an anti-depressant?

I've got a breakfast meeting to go to this morning and will see how that goes. Stay tuned...

Dominance

Right now. Get your mind out of the gutter.

The pecking order has been established, at least in the canine realm. Princess is the boss.

But Bambi is still fighting that, tooth and nail. No real fisticuffs yet, but there have been a few, uh, discussions.

Before Snickers left us - someday I'll write about Snickers - she and Bambi would do that disgusting dominance two-step. First Snickers would pee, then Bambi on top of that, then Snickers would circle around and repeat the process. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Now with Bambi and Princess, Princess is first. Then comes Bambi. Then... but there's no "then". Even when Bambi goes first, Princess doesn't even care.

Literally, she doesn't give a rat's ass.

(Strangely, no, there's no picture to show. You're welcome.)

Don't Click There!

Not yet, anyway.

It's likely that just above bob's bs up there at the top, there's a "Next Blog" link. Don't click it. But if you must, bookmark or save as a favorite this blog. Really.

You'll want to come back since if you don't save it now, you might not find it again.

Really. It's worth it.

What Tree Is This?

There's a tree in the backyard that doesn't do anything. Sure, in Autumn it drops its leaves, stark contrast to the Winter white (artsy fartsy) Spring brings out the new growth, Summer it just sits there. No fruit, no flowers, no nothing.

Yes, for all you Utah readers, I could snap off a branch or twig and take it to Western Garden and have them ID it, but someone out there's got to know what this is.

I even have gone to the Arbor Day's website and used their What Tree Is That program to no avail.

We've discussed cutting it down to get something else planted that does something other than....

OK, so it does do something, and maybe reason enough to keep it - it produces oxygen.

In this day and age, that's something worth considering...

Selective Hearing

If you google for the phrase "selective hearing", you'll find lots of references to a condition where someone says one thing and the listener hears something completely different. But in my opinion, that's not real selective hearing - rather, it's when someone says something, and chooses not to hear anything at all.

Case in point - calling for Bambi or Princess to come in and they ignore you completely. But call them for dinner, cheese or cookies and they come running.

Guys, I'm afraid, have this same problem. We choose not to hear certain things. The speaker may as well be speaking a foreign language. If we don't care to hear something of a particular subject, it's in one ear and out the other. With no filtering in between.

I mentioned this to Marilee this evening, and she wholeheartedly agreed, though I was only talking about the dogs. She mentioned that guys were like that as well.

"Do women have that problem?"

"No, we hear everything."

Guys, we have been warned.

Ye Olde Watering Hole

It hit a hundred degrees today. Not so much a scorcher, since the humidity was rather high.

Marilee and I enjoyed the air conditioning indoors, while Bambi and Princess insisted on cooking their insides yet again outdoors.

After returning from outside, Princess went over to the mega-waterer we got last year; it is ingenious since you're not always filling a water dish. But the drawback is that it makes Mom and Dad lazy as far as keeping the thing filled.

There was no sound coming from her massive tongue-lapping, and I realized why - the damn thing was empty again. After pulling the bottle off the thing, and heading to the faucet to fill it up, I returned to the scene below.


Yes, she gave me a look.

The Look

My family (of California and Nevada) has a genetic predisposition to look over their glasses when prompted to do so by a comment or activity which warrants it. Even I have this behavior, and, yes, everyone in my family wears glasses.

I've used this look on Marilee, Taylor, and Jenn and Chris. Having not "grown up" in a family environment of those who wear glasses - Marilee wears glasses only for reading - they didn't know that's just something I do. And it was effective.

My Dad, in an earlier life, was a high-school teacher. Even then, in the '30's, there were goof-offs in the classes he taught. When one of these miscreants would start acting out, he'd stop the lesson and dead quiet would envelop the room. Over his glasses he would stare at the perpetrator. Effective even then.

We're not talking a sidelong glance. Not with raised eyebrows. You know the look. "It's not what you said, it's how you looked when you said it."