Big Dude, Little Dog

As promised, heartwarming photos of dudes with Carson.

First, my uncle Dennis:



And a great one of Josh:



As he mentioned, Josh and I had a lovely visit, which involved some fine beers at Strange Brew, breakfast at a diner where there's Scripture on the back of the menu, and plenty of dog-related hijinks.


Here is Josh, settling down with his bunkmates. He woke up with at least two of Carson's toys in his bed.

We've decided that we're going to move to Paris to become garbagemen.... 8 weeks of vacation!

I think I might be in a codependent relationship.

With a Chihuahua, that is. He waits for me to come home at night, sleeps under my covers or around my neck, and just this evening followed me into the bathroom and camped out on the mat while I took a shower. It's getting quite intense.

In other Carson news, I'm going to begin posting my photo series, "Big Dude, Small Dog." I have a few shots of the little guy being held by men, and, well, I can't keep them to myself. Furthermore, any men who find themselves near me, a camera, and The Dude, would do well to smile and say cheese.

So, here are those inaugural photos (courtesy of Gil):

Here are Seth and Carson, engaged in a meeting of the minds.



Here, Chris has discovered how the Chihuahua is fully-poseable.


Not bad, right? Come Thanksgiving, I'll likely be able to trick my uncles and family friends into picking him up. Stay tuned.

Sooo.... I'm back in New Hampshire. I was going to post a lengthy treatise on the New York weekend's activities, but realized there are only so many ways you can write about eating, drinking, and sleeping before you start to seem like some kind of lazy, lushy glutton. I could also write about the magical land of Berlin, located in (The Interminable State of) Connecticut, where Mapquest took me needlessly on the drive home. I saw many strip malls (featuring Home Depot, Chile's, Panera Bread, Staples, etc.), Adult DVD and Video stores , and traffic lights. I also nearly ran over a hitchhiker (by accident).

The highlight of my return is the mysterious resurrection of my iPod (might have to rename it "Lazarus," from "The Pookah McPhellimey"....oh, I'm a nerdlinger. You'd better frickin' believe it.). Seriously. I don't know what happened, but I do know that I won't have to scan through a million radio stations playing James Blunt and Nickleback. And that makes me unimpeachably happy.

Sometime soon I'll give you denizens of the Interweb a rundown of my most recent trip the Russian and Turkish Baths, unless Claire beats me to it. At the moment, I find I'm in the throes of fighting off a nasty cold. I may enlist my mother and her laryngoscope to determine whether there are, in fact, hedgehogs living in my throat. Mean little hedgehogs with fiery spines. 'Til then, it's grapefruit juice, AirBorne, and lemons for me. All that Vitamin-C has the extra effect of activating my adamantium blood. Excellent.

Tomorrow, with any luck (and hedgehogs willing), I'll get cracking on a loaf of Bittman's slow-fermenting bread. Then, I'll put my oar in here. Stay tuned. Come on over if you'd like to be a guinea pig.

It's hard to say "leaf peeping" without giggling.

Well, we're neck-deep in "leaf peeping" season here in New England. It's not quite peak foliage yet, but we're getting there, so it's time to batten down the hatches and prepare for slow drivers, directions-seekers, and people who just want a Mich Light, but only after hearing what we have on tap (happened to me again yesterday). I'm not really complaining, as the "peepers" (giggle) keep the tips a-streaming in, but dear God. A Mich Light (or, heaven forfend, Ultra)? Listen to the voice of reason (me), and have an Otter Creek Stovepipe Porter. It's fucking brilliant, and you and I will respect each other in the morning. Sigh.

But, you can see why people are flooding across our borders to have a looksee. It's very pretty.


The highlight of yesterday's double shift was pouring my first real Black & Tan. Oh mercy me, it was fun. And... AND the dude (who's actually a chef) said it was the best Black & Tan he's ever had. Perfect halves, perfectly separated (looked like they were made of gelatin), perfect finger's width of head. I really outdid myself (such that I fucked up his second one... too much Guinness). I didn't take a picture, but there were witnesses. It was a thing of beauty.

In other news, today was Gus's first foray into the great outdoors. Observe his Gusness, surveying his new kingdom:




It was a trying week for Gussy. He was unceremoniously stuffed into a carrier (not the same one as before, mind you, but he still escaped it... should have named him Houdini) and brought to the vet on Monday. He got locked in the attic twice, and then I cruelly lured him outside to explore. Though, I turn my back for two seconds and he disappears into a crawlspace (I assume.. he may have just disapparated) under the porch. Oops. He eventually emerged, covered in dirt and cobwebs, only to find another crawlspace in our creepy cellar a few hours later. Needless to say, he's been quite intrepid in his exploration of the farm.

In other news, the "companion oven" in our bitchin' stove has a proofing setting. That means I can let bread dough rise in a warm, draught-free environment. Pretty hot, right? I've put it to the test and it's pretty awesome. Dad and I have agreed that we'll call the oven The Piano, after the wood-fired oven of Jacques Pepin's apprenticeship. It's quite a bit fancier, but given how we regard it, it seems appropriate.

So, if anyone comes up here peeping at leaves (teehee), stop on by. I've got loaves of Molasses Oatmeal Bread.

Drive courteously. It's the New Hampshire way?

Well, I made it.

I now officially reside in New Hampshire. Today, our house was approved for occupancy, which is handy, and the furnace man is currently hooking up our heat (thank GAWD). He doesn't have the grates to put over the ducts, though, so we won't have anything to prevent Gus from climbing into said ducts and cooking himself until tomorrow, which is not handy.

We arrived after a rather hellacious journey from New York. His Gus-ness did not take to being crated behind the passenger seat. After spending the first ten minutes of the ride howling piteously he escaped from the top-load door of the carrier and proceeded to run around the car, wailing. We were in the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, and I tried not to swerve into the barriers on either side while trying to keep the panicked feline from crawling a) under the pedals, b) onto the dashboard, or c) up the side of my face. I managed to soothe him enough in my lap, and though he was panting (mouth open, tongue lolling... a very scary face indeed) and cat hair was flying all around the interior of the car, we were not dead from a horrific wreck. Every time I got him calm, he'd freak out again and attempt escape through a cracked window or pace around the back.

Oh, also he scraped his belly in the escape, so he bled on my jeans.

After getting out of the city (I preferred my chances of chasing him down in a rest area rather than on a city street), I pulled over and resecured Gus in the carrier (I used his discarded collar to tied down the lid... that'll teach him). He continued with the yeowling for some time, but eventually fixed me with a baleful stare and settled into a stupor.

The kicker, of course, is that within an hour of arriving in his new environs, Gus climbed into a heating duct and went for a little jaunt and had to be coaxed out, sooty-pawed, with treats.

What would such a trip be without a little adventure?

Here's the man himself, peering out from the safety of my comforter. He's already succeeded in scaring the hell out of the Chihuahua. Now, if I could just convince him to eat or drink something.



I'll post more pictures soon (I have some from the weekend's activities). I'm a bit overwhelmed with new-job and new-house stuff.