Buffalo Pictures

At last:

Buffalo Wedding

Cynics Like Me

It's reassuring to know that I am not alone in the way I see certain things.  For instance, last night I went to the Mission for dinner, and there were no fewer than 20 people lined up at the four corners of 16th and Valencia waving signs and screaming at pedestrians and drivers alike to "Vote no on 8!"  Now I happen to agree with their view, but couldn't help but wonder if there was a place in the entire universe where they were less likely to find a single person who didn't agree with them.  Maybe the corner of 18th and Castro.  But seriously, this is the Mission.  The political spectrum runs from 'extremely liberal' to 'ridiculously liberal.'  But I did not say a word; it was a person behind me waiting for the light to change so we could cross who said to one of them, "Do you really think anyone around here is voting yes on 8?"  And bless her heart, the protestor said with the utmost chipperness, "I sure hope not!", which I think means she interpreted the person's comment as pointing out how great the residents of this corner of the city are, rather than how pointless her protest was.  That's because she's a better person than I am, but at least my fellow pedestrian is right there with me.

 

The other example is an amazing story told to me by one La Lauderia last night over Pakwan.  She happens to have a very common last name, and an extended family who shares a summer home.  Someone in the family started an email thread about what fun thing they might buy for the summer house as a group this year.  Suggestions included a croquet set and a canoe.  Then suddenly, a cousin responded with a note suggesting an ivory Swedish shoehorn (sorry if I'm remembering this wrong, and thanks for giving me fodder for a blog post, LL!), which he indicated was available at a shop down the street from his house.  There was a day of silence on the email thread, during which my friend assumed the cousin had just been drunk and sent out a random email.  Then an uncle, father of said cousin, sent out an email telling everyone to disregard that last email and to delete the cousin's email from the thread, because (of course) they were emailing the wrong person the entire time.  I have to say, I like 'wrong Shawn's' approach to the problem, and am going to use him as my inspiration.  Which means I'm currently racking my brain for ideas of what to send back to the email I received a few days ago reminding me my article for the church newsletter is overdue. 

UPDATED!

LL was kind enough to foward me the exact wrong cousin email, and it's pretty rad:
How about a Swedish made shoe horn? While I like the idea of canoe, kayak and bicycles i think one finely made Swedish shoe horn will serve us all for years - if not generations - to come. There is a beautiful Walrus Tusk horn available at my local Jeweler for $775.00 so if everyone is on board I'll make the purchase tomorrow.

This is exactly how I feel (except for the cubs part)

Yay, embedding works!

Birthday Genius!

It was Satchel's 2nd birthday on Saturday.  And I'm not saying he's a genius, but read this story and you make the call.

 

On Friday night he was frantically unpacking his toy box (as he does every time I attempt to clean up the million dog toys he insists on scattering around my living and dining rooms).  He gets to a point where he can't reach the bottom row of toys in the toy box, and he begins communicating his displeasure.  First he touches his nose against my leg, looks me in the eyes, and sighs really loudly.  If that fails, he begins his quiet sobs, escalating to full crying and growling.  I was responsive at level 1, and began taking toys out one by one to see which one was so urgently required, and if he did not take the toy I would put it back in the box.  Easter chicken?  No.  Tire rope?  Not even an glance.  But then, I pulled out a plush birthday cake with the words "Birthday Boy" written across the top, a gift for his first half birthday from his Philly girlfriend at the dog store.  He snatched it out my hands and ran across the room to begin wrestling with it.  I'm not suggesting he can read or knows when his birthday is, but I can honestly say he had not played with that toy in months.  It's never been one of his favorites.

 

Must be the poodle half.