Listics

Kennel-up is one of the best suggestions a dog can take. Brandy arrived on our doorstep with that one instruction burned in. The rest of her instruction set was missing. I think when she demonstrated that she was more interested in field mice than pheasants, the Nimrod who owned her gave up on interaction. After she came to live with us, she took almost a year to be willing to look either of us in the eye. She was a troubled doggie. Kennel-up is still her best trick. We can be far afield and if I ask her to kennel-up she’ll turn her arthritic shuffle back to the barnyard and usually beat me to the chain link enclosure she calls home. She’ll stand just inside the kennel, tail wagging slowly, a droll look in her eye as if to suggest she could use a fresh bucket of water and she wouldn’t mind if I scooped up the poop. I’ll usually follow those suggestions.

Molly is 15 weeks old today and she’s a zoomer. We have thickets and hedges that she dodges and races through finding improbable entry points and speeding straight through like the roadrunner into a coyote-painted tunnel on the face of a cliff. Lesser beings would tangle and sprawl and bounce off the bushes. Molly zooms through, breaking the sound barrier at ground level. She’s a puppy speed racer gunning it through the brush… Go Speed Racer! She’ll pause to stalk the cat. Patient cat, ready to roll over and lick the pup after she’s been run down.

And when play time is over, and we have to rest, Molly knows to retire to her crate or her pen in the kitchen when I ask if she’d like to kennel-up.

Smart puppy.

“Je t’embrasse…”

Now that’s the stuff of lingua franca.

If you’re not on the blogroll at Worthwhile, it doesn’t mean we don’t love you! We’re still building and rearranging, Halley teases. Right now they have the blog roll divvied up into several categories, including Political (the a-list guys - from Kos and Marshall through Jarvis to Sullivan and Reynolds), Tech (techie people incl Shelley, Bricklin, Doc, and the Gnomenator, and tech pundits incl Doc - whoa! a twofer! - a Gillmor, and Foley… and mirabile firehose: Slashdot!), the Classics (incl. Rageboy, Joi, Scoop Winer, and - wait! I’m starting to see some names that should be in other categories and some names that already are…). Wonkette and Dave Barry seem well placed in the Funny section, and - hold it! newsflash… the Onion is NOT A BLOG, but it is funny so arguably you could put it in this category, especially if you weren’t too strict about just what you were including in your blog roll). Now about About Work… this section has a lot to offer, very Worthwhile I’d say. Jeneane and Miz Liz are the names I recognize here. But bopping out to Curt Rosengren’s “Occupational Adventure” I’m tickled to find something attention grabbing, by a new (to me) author.

One of the things that happens in this world o’ blogs is we tend to spiral inward, becoming ever more internally referential and ultimately fit only for conversation with the microphones we seem to be looking at in our own navels. It’s nice to be introduced to different voices.

Halley says one may write her an email explaining just why one deserves a spot on the blogroll. I have done so, and in fact, so enamored am I of my own voice that I have reprinted it below…

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TCP is so 80s it may be obsolete today.

Blog voices rising about the genocide… Jeneane Sessum, Jim Moore’s coverage - broad and deep, Mike Golby, Doc Searls.

Harvey Manfredjensendenfressenbrenner quotes Mark Steyn, tackling the Monica problem:

“Look, we understand that a politician with legal difficulties has to say things like ‘inappropriate encounter.’ And, if you want to write a memoir in dead pol-speak, that’s OK, we’ll pay you 20,000 bucks. But for 10 mil do us a favor and lay off the ‘I had an inappropriate encounter’ stuff. Shoot for more of ‘the shaft of light from the dying sun through the Oval Office window caught the swell of her bosom as she slid the extra-large pepperoni across the desk. I knew it was wrong. I’d penciled in that evening for bringing peace to Northern Ireland, but what the hell, the two sides of that troubled island’s sectarian conflict were separated by as deep a divide as the plunging cleavage now beckoning from her low-cut angora sweater. Ulster could wait.’” . . .

And check the imprimatur…