Barley vs Food Bag

So who won? You be the judge:

Coffee shop or your living room?

Following on the heels of my last post about the woman who drove me so crazy at the dog park (I've seen her since then around the neighborhood, and she's crossed the street every time to avoid Barley, who has never been anything but nice to her dog. But I digress.), I'm continuing with a shamelessly self-indulgent "something that drives me crazy" post.

I was at Caribou near the end of the school year a few weeks ago, trying to grade students' final exam essays and working on my own homework. A woman came in the front door, passed by the counter without buying a thing and sat down in the chair next to me. She was talking on the phone the entire time, and her conversation only got louder when she sat down. I've blurred out her face, but mere words couldn't describe how close she was sitting. I should have taken video, too, to capture her voice. It resonated through the whole building.

I would have said something, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Heaven only knows how the poor person on the other end of that conversation felt! He or she was probably sitting quietly at a coffee shop across town. I sat there for at least another half hour, trying my best to get work done; her conversation continued and got louder, but she never purchased a thing.

Won't you NOT be my neighbor?

After a week of rain that made everything ridiculously muddy, Barley and I finally visited our local dog park again yesterday. As we were approaching, I saw one of our least-favorite neighbors: a woman who can only be described as a mean and nasty version of Manjula. She saw Barley and me approaching and yelled, "Don't come in! We're leaving!" Her very sweet, yet completely unsocialized, white labradoodle, Elliot, ran toward us. We waited outside the gate while poor Elliot strained to sniff at Barley.

Mean Manjula said in her heavy Indian accent, "I'm very sorry, but we don't play with other dogs anymore. He was bitten the last time we were here.

"Oh, Barley doesn't bite." He and Elliot had met before when we were out on a walk, so I was sure she'd be fine with the two of them playing.

"That is what the last woman said," Mean Manjula said. "And she lied."

And with that, the two of them darted for the door at the other end of the dog park (in case Barley lunged at Elliot on the way out, I suppose), but then she refused to leave. Mean Manjula stood on the other side of the fence going on and on about this other dog and how nasty and out of control it was. "He was literally running circles around his owner." At a dog park? Imagine! The whole time, I was trying desperately not to snap at her.

I wonder after run-ins like this if I'm too protective and naive about Barley. He does play rough sometimes, and he may have gotten Elliot dirty or even a little bloody. Was I wrong to get so defensive and angry at Mean Manjula? Is it wrong that I'm plotting and preparing for our eventual next run-in?

The dog mornings of summer

I've been slowly easing into my very first professional summer vacation. I took my third (and final, I hope) standardized test, entertained a good friend from college (I miss you already, Andrea!), and have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to convince myself that I'm not bored already by starting countless little "homemaker" projects. If you're in the market for a decoupaged flower pot or some homemade pickles, let me know.

Still, with all the craziness, the best part of my summer has been the luxury of spending a few extra minutes every morning with a warm doggie snuggled next to me. When we first saw Barley in the shelter, he was snuggled next to his sister, letting her sleep directly on top of him:

He's taken to sleeping the same way with me, his head tucked under mine and that same puppy smile on his furry face.

Last day of school

Today was our last day of school. I think this conversation sums up the year perfectly:

Student (who skipped twice this week and is going to fail the semester): "I had to come to class today. I just knew you was gonna do somethin' crazy."

Me: "You mean, 'I knew you were going to do something crazy.'"

Student: "See what I'm talkin' 'bout?"

"The good wife's guide"

I've seen this jewel from the past before, but was reminded of it when a former coworker sent it to me as part of a larger email. It's pretty funny...I mean, helpful:

Someone should update it and write a "Good Husband's Guide." Hmm.... That may be forthcoming.

Crime, Punishment and Typos

Matt and I visited the National Museum of Crime and Punishment in D.C. last night. We've done the Smithsonian thing dozens of times, so we're branching out into the lesser-known museums. This particular museum is offering $6 tickets for local residents this summer. It was worth $6, but I wouldn't suggest paying the everyday price of nearly $20.

While the museum was light on actual artifacts, it was heavy on cheesy photo opportunities:


My personal highlight of the museum was the opportunity it provided for some classic Matt one-liners:

"I think I could live in jail. Think of all the reading you'd get done. Do prisoners have access to the Internet?"

"I could be in the mob. I wouldn't be one of the killers though. I'd be the brains behind the operation."

Unfortunately, my overall enjoyment of the museum was marred by the overwhelming amount of typos and grammatical errors. Some, such as commas outside quotation marks and misplaced hypens, were mildly irritating, but others, such as misspellings, flubbed punctuation and missing words, were inexcusable for a national museum. Because nearly every sign had at least one error (sadly, that's not hyperbole), these are just a few of the worst errors:

Bonnie, of Bonnie and Clyde, was like Shirley Temple, not Shirley temple.

How closed quotation marks became a capital O with an accent is beyond me.

We both had to read this middle paragraph three times to understand it.

I don't think that's a question?

Spell check doesn't catch everything, and I doubt Nick Nolte was locked up because of his car's potty mouth.

If only

Every weekend, our Washington Post delivery includes all sorts of reading supplements: Parade magazine, the Washington Post Magazine, a few television guides, and the list goes on. Sadly, however, it took "America's Finest News Source" to bring me the headline that I only wish were included in one of my standard weekend reads:

The Twins...brought to you by LG?

A friend of ours was in Korea not long ago. While he was there, he saw the Twins play. No, not those Twins. The Korean baseball team with the same name and somewhat-copyright-infringing logo.

These guys may not be Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau, but I think I'd still be a fan of the "LG Twins" if I lived in Korea:

...even if they do think cheerleaders are a necessary element of baseball: