If you take away a dog's chair...or, the dangers of HGTV

This morning's rude awakening.

Now, Mom doesn't watch TV (even on the treadmill), but that whole HGTV-like deal about every part of your home being perfect all the time has, rather unfortunately, seeped into our own home. It could be severe nesting syndrome, it could be the grim cold, but all I know is how it's affecting me.

To wit:

If you take away a dog's chair, he'll find a couch to sleep on
(preferably newly upholstered, although I could have done without having to move the just-cleaned carpet put on there in the vain hopes I would find it to be an obstacle);
if you take away a dog's couch, he'll find a bed to sleep on;
if you bother the dog by ironing nearby, he'll find another bed;
if you annoy the dog by vacuuming within twenty feet of said bed, he'll find yet another bed;
when the sun moves from that spot, he'll find...
a sunny couch to sleep on.

And when you move him from the couch...
he'll make you take him for a walk.

If I'm looking a bit devilish, it's because this photo was taken
preparatory to yet another unceremonius upheaval.

Yappy dachshund gets owner kicked off JetBlue plane

A good night's sleep before travel always is advisable.

Maybe he thought Florida would be too hot. Maybe he just wanted to stay home. Or maybe, this little beastie simply was woken up too early.
Scene: Today's 6 a.m. JetBlue flight from Logan to West Palm. Plane is packed. Woman gets on with wire-haired dachshund, scoots it under her seat.
Dog yips.
Dog yaps.
Dog won't stop.
Flight attendants step in, tell the owner that the dog has to stop barking.
Well, if she holds the pup, that will control the barking, the owner says.
When that didn't work, and the dog continued its yippity-yap, the owner was told she'd have to get off the plane. No way, she says, she paid for the seat and paid for the dog, too.
Next step: state troopers, the attendants say. Bring 'em on, the owner says.
So they do. And finally, she, and her barky little beast, deplane.

Tucker travel tip: give your pups a new chew toy, bone or juicy porterhouse steak if you'd like them to settle down. And don't forget the full-size bed.

Castaway, Boston version: I've gone native

When it's the closest thing you've seen to a stick in months...

Remember Tom Hanks in Castaway? After he crashes, we see his first clumsy attempts at survival. Then, we next see him amazingly buff and skilled, in the way that one becomes when one is, let's face it, stuck in some situation in which there is nothing to do but make the best of it.  

Well, it appears that I've finally accepted the fact that Mom and Dad are never going to retire and move to Florida...which means I've become a true New Englander.

So pass me another icicle, and this time make it a big one.

... the instinct is to chomp.

Get me out of here! Or, good reasons to love winter

Time's up for winter.

One thing about those hardy New Englanders: they love to complain about the weather.

With good reason, I might add.

They'll talk about moving to Florida or some other completely improbably place, sure, but they won't do it.

Because in the next breath, which they might hold until our first really warm day, in, say, July, they'll say: "I love the change of seasons." Unless they only mean the one day that mud season (spring to most of you) changes to summer, I can't think of a more disingenuous statement.

All I can say is: being a South Carolinian by birth, saved from certain tragedy by being shipped up to the lovely Commonwealth of Massachusetts and most particularly, my seemingly never-ending selection of choice sleeping spots, you've gotta take the bad with the good.

Right now, I'm going to betake myself up into guest bedroom #1, then slither down into my cozy armchair in the living room before being served my next meal. Bulking up on calories is one way to get through winter, and I'm doing my part.

This is just to say II

I highly recommend Great Hill Blue--and Mom's quiches.

That I have saved you the trouble
of making those quiches
about which you were so anxious

the folks at Great Hill Blue
would be pleased
I enjoyed their cheese

forgive me
I was hungry
and you were careless.

Super Bowl commercials: a dark and scary night

If only I had slept through the Super Bowl, I wouldn't
be having nightmares now.

Really! Does almost every commercial have to be so frightening and dark? I was happy to see that the adorable puppy-Clydesdale bromance return, but it turned into a nightmare! That early spot turned out to apparently set a trend for terrifying, dark, disturbing ads.

Here's how warped things have gotten:
Budweiser vp Brian Perkins told People magazine:
"Lost Dog" is a heartwarming tale about how true friends always have your back."
Heartwarming? A puppy becomes lost and is threatened by a terrifying wolf? But wait, there's more. Perkins also said: "It's a storyline that people of all walks of life can relate to." 
Hmm.. let's see. Anytime I'm frightened, a bunch of burly Clydesdales, or facsimiles thereof, will come to my rescue? Or maybe a evil-eyed lion surrounded by a tribe of completely scary silver-clad robot chesspeople? Oh, wait. That was the halftime show.
Used to be, the only harm these ads did was to make you groan with how stupid they were. Now, you need body armor, not to mention earplugs and a blindfold.

Better yet, I should have slept through the whole thing.