Autumn Trips

This year our annual fall trip was often rescheduled as well as eventually shortened to one day from three. Things happen. Bad weather, SATs, work obligations. And since Liam's vacay's are contingent on ours, his stays were changed in accordance with our changes.
We did in fact go on our fall trip to Morristown NJ, home of George Washington's two winter stay, (1779-80) this past Sunday, October 11, 2009; so many Revolutionary War sites, George really did stay in many homes Our day trip was packed with history, pumpkins, lakes hills, hot cider and even some fall foliage.
Northern New Jersey is hilly, charming, stylish and the most historic place for the Revolutionary War history in the Northeast. I grew up summering on the Jersey shore. Never knew that Northern NJ resembled Switzerland, Michigan and Vermont and Canada! A wonderful area.
We could not leave Liam for such a long day, so we had booked him into his beloved pet motel, Best in Show. Paul and I set out early Saturday afternoon, Oct. 10, 2009 to drop him off. Liam knows he waits by our doorWe were due there in the morning-we paid for the day, but we rationalized our dawdling by saying to each other " Liam is enjoying quality time with his parents."
Liam has his travel bag and packed were some red Kong toys three greenies (these are like edible toothbrushes) his pillow and bed. He rents a deluxe room midway between Super 8 and the Hilton. The next level of rooms are called suites-for very rich dogs- the highest, the Presidential suite-there is only one and a great Dane usually resides there. These have a TV, with shows such as Animal Planet and the Dog Whisperer, classical music, ice cream treats, satin sheets.
Liam cried this time at our leaving which put me into a tailspin of grief and "Bad Mommy" syndrome
Saturday night was lonely without the little guy. We have a fake Liam who sits in his chair to fill the emotional and physical hole. The twin replacement Liam also scares us every single time we enter the room as we think it is him.
Sunday's trip departure time was early and with our wonderful friends and variety of activities, Liam was not in our thoughts; we are not that nutty to miss a dog so much.
Okay, I have an album with Liam's pix as well as current ones in the camera.
Our day trip ended Sunday evening and we were back home. Another night without Liam. I always ask Paul "What is Liam doing now?" he always replies "sleeping" This is what I have to hear and Paul obliges by supplying the answer I must have.
Liam had to stay over through Monday as it was Columbus Day, a staff Holiday and hotel was closed for pickups. I fantasize Liam is manning the desk; I envision him as having leadership qualities, like George Washington.
Paul returned to work Tuesday. I waited for the day to play out as I could not get Liam until late afternoon-he was getting a full spa exit treatment-bath , pedicure, teeth cleaning- Liam has very white teeth of which I am very proud. The staff says he always has his mouth open-guess he is showing them off.
I drove over to pick him up. As I take care of the paperwork and the checking of his suitcase, verifying all his belongings are inside, I puff with pride reading his report card with his photo-yes, he did well and yes, his mouth is open. The staff assures me that he has been a great guest. I hear his crazy bullet like footfalls and the whoosh of air as he shoots out from the back, I turn for my usual sloppy greeting, No. Nothing. What is this? I have waited all day to be loved by my dog. Rejected, Forgotten Rebuffed. Embarrassed.
So strange, No hello leap. No licking. Just looks past me, struts to the door, no backward glance and waits for me to open the door for his grand exit. At home at first he stood like a statue staring at me. Then he slept all night This cold paw treatment continued all night and into Wednesday morning.
The spell was broken when our housekeeper arrived. Liam went crazy with joy, licking and jumping on her. We had barely calmed down when a dear friend arrived for our play date.
Again all his pent up emotion came out. I had to take out the water guns to calm him. I did not arm all of us, one seemed to be enough.
My friend brought a baby seat for grandniece Kiera. I placed it on the couch, its intended delivery was Thursday. We left Liam with our lovely housekeeper. He helps with the chores.
We left for our outing in the wilderness in my friend's new roadster.
Later in the day when I returned, I found Liam sitting in the baby seat watching "General Hospital." He seemed to be saying that he was the "baby" of this house. He spent the rest of the evening guarding the baby seat
Today's semi nor'easter has brought him back to me. Guess when faced with driving rain and gale force winds, hanging with Mom wins. He also had a bone to pick with replacement Liam twin.
Liam confronts fake Liam give me that sweater!
Woof, woof

Snapshot from Starbucks

I love Starbucks. The interior colors excite me: greens- avocado, sage, lime tones, burnt sienna, yellow ochre, pumpkin, gold -all earth tones the procedures thrill me (I am a retired Fed) the teamwork and camaraderie mandated for the staff appeal to my social self as well as my first-born sense of management.
I go often. Probably almost every day.
I have a Starbucks story I would like to share in this week's blog. A snapshot because it is both the following meanings of the word:
snapshot
Function: noun
Date: 1890
1- a casual photograph made by an amateur (me) with a handheld camera (my Canon)

2-an impression or view of something brief or transitory- a snapshot of life (Starbucks visit)
from Merriam Webster Online

Starbucks stores have personalities. The mission statement and procedures for all Starbucks are the same. However, clientele, location, layout and staff impact upon the cultural vibes of each store, so each Starbucks' ambiance might feel different.

Starbucks Mission Statement
To inspire and nurture the human spirit-one person, one cup, and one neighborhood at a time. That one person-me, one cup- grande non-fat latte, and one neighborhood-my New Hyde Park Starbucks.
I am ready to be inspired and nurtured.

Some Starbucks are perfect for sitting with your purchase, others are for commuters on the way to somewhere else. Some are great for people watching, for working on a laptop, for meeting a client, for conducting a job interview. Starbucks are in supermarkets, in Barnes and Nobles, in highway rest stations, in kiosks in big cities.

My everyday Starbucks does not have many chairs. The clientele is on the go; eating while running out the door with a tray of amazingly diverse drinks for hospital staff of any one of hundreds of hospitals or medical offices for which New Hyde Park is known. Snagging a table is an art here. Those who do are riveted to laptops, blackberries or conducting business. No intense curling up with a latte here and no eye contact once seated.
I never expect to sit and read the paper and drink my latte at this location. A big impediment and probably an intended one, is that there are only five small round bistro-like tables, which ideally should have two chairs each for a total of ten-five tables with two chairs. This way there would be two chairs per table. There are only eight chairs, so two tables have one chair. Often when groups are meeting for business, several tables will be rendered chairless.
People will stand at chairless tables waiting for a seat. Most people are not affected by the stander; the stander is ignored by those seated. The chairless one then consumes his/her items standing alone, head down into cup, too ashamed to look at fellow customers.

Starbuck's Snapshot - Summer 2009

I enter my everyday Starbuck's with the urge to get the NY Times and sit with my latte. It is Wednesday and dining section is ripe with recipes, lush with wine recommendations and vibrant food pictures. I am determined to change this Starbucks' culture and be a relaxer/drinker, reader in the midst of business meetings, texters, bloggers, and commuters. I scope out the scene. Only one of the five tables is occupied. If I had a book I would put it on a table to claim it, or if I had a coat or a laptop I would plop it down, but I do not have any belongings other than my wallet and bb. I will not part with them to lay claim to a spot. I get on line, only one person in front of me. The door opens, a man enters, then another, each one claims a table; one by using a book, the other by hooking his cane across a table and chair. Suddenly I am in danger of having no spot-only two remaining. My turn to place my order, I take a quick look back to the entrance, a mother and child have entered. Mother has put some item down on a chairless table, and has joined the line. I am okay, still one table with two chairs. Get my latte and NY Times. Oh no! The young boy has commandeered the two tables and has sprawled across the two remaining chairs. He has reserved a table for his mother AND a table for himself! A violation of Starbucks' code. I am sunk. I am now a stander. Mother is busy with the ordering. I am standing, thinking of how to get the boy to surrender one table and chair, when he announces "These tables are for my mother and me." How did a young boy get so confident and use proper grammar? When is school beginning? Not soon enough. Another couple arrives to sit- Boy again announces: "these tables/chairs are saved." The couple looks at each other quizzically. I want to jump up and say. "Where are the Starbucks police?" Having Starbucks police is my own idea and a suggestion I have been meaning to send to Corporate Headquarters. The Starbucks police would be empowered to evict those who use Starbucks as a hangout and buy nothing, to reprimand those who use chairs for their belongings preventing folks from sitting; they would have the authority to oust folks after 2 hours of sitting with the same drink (BTW I would be ousted)
Finally the mother returns. She is appalled by her son's takeover. She sternly tells boy. "We are not eating here, I made that clear, pack up all your stuff, get your feet off the chairs, rearrange, the furniture." He whines, defiant,but is discouraged by our looks of obvious alliance with his mother. I almost feel sorry for boy-his loss of power and dominance is so quick and so complete. They leave. Boy looks back at us all the way to the car. Sulking.
I move to the coveted window seat. All adults sit. Bliss.

A Starbucks snapshot for a summer day.
Liam would love to meet some women at a Starbucksno seat needed-he would stand
Liam licks his lattes

Do not report us for animal abuse- he only licks the slightest hint of froth from the latte's foam, slurp
Woof, woof, Lick, lick

Liam has siblings

Hi all, this is Liam writing today. Every now and then my parents let me author a piece, which of course is only right as the blog bears my name. Many of you now are very familiar with how I came to live in New Hyde Park with my parents, Carol and Paul. I will refresh your memories as I think it has some relativity to my story.
I was adopted on New Year's Day, January 1, 2008 from North Shore Animal League. I was to be a retirement gift to my Mommy, Carol, from herself. How Leo of her, to gift herself! I understand, as I am a Leo also, born August 1, 2007. I knew my parents had no kids at home as they answered "no" to that question at the interview. If we three were a match, I would be going home to a two story house with a yard, doggie neighbors, Rosie and Shady, and a retired Mom and working Dad. Life was looking good after a scary start in Tennessee, my birthplace.
We were a match and the three of us went home, to bond, to play and to become a pack. I was informed that my new name would be Liam, in honor of Liam Neeson, a favorite of Mommy Carol. Sounded fine as the moniker NSAL had given me was Ernie, and I was no Ernie.
When we arrived home I was shown my crate, better than the one at NSAL. I was to use this little house -( my 1st night 1/01/08) until I was toilet trained. All good.
Then I heard these noises. My genes kicked in and I had the urge to chase. Seems that I was not going to be the only child, there were already five brothers and sisters in residence. These chirping, babbling, twittering, loving sounds were erupting from the den and out of the throats of five colorful creatures.
What, I have to share my parents!
I made secret plans to unlatch their cage and set them free.
I was introduced; it was all I could do to control my urge to leap and paw at themLater for that. There were two girls and three boys all with "k" names to go along with their being "keets," short for parakeets. The head bird seemed to be Kevin; he directed all the activities. The two girls were Kristin and Kelly These three were named after some people called "newbies" where Mommy Carol worked before retirement. I got the idea that newbies were pups like me, not fully grown yet. The other two boys were Killian (after a beer) and Kaysar ( named after a handsome " Big Brother" contestant). I was too short to reach their cage, but I would grow, North Shore said so; they classified me a basset hound/ lab, so I would be taller and soon be able to peer directly into the keet cage.
I was called little lab by folks and the vet. I was not getting taller, I was getting longer. Curiosity over my looks and growth patterns -horizontal instead of vertical-resulted in DNA testing which brought back a surprise- I was four dogs in one, neither a lab nor basset hound- 4 equal parts-2 big dogs, Irish setter/ dalmatian, and 2 small dogs, beagle/ dachshund.
My face got longer (Irish setter) , so my ears no longer look floppy ( Basset look begone) and my body elongated (dachshund). If I stand all on fours I am still a puppy size. But I can leap very high (dalmatian) and when standing on my hind legs I am very tall. My parents think it is funny to call me "sausage dog" invoking my 1/4 Doxie heritage
Liam at 6 months at 9 monthsand fully grown at 2 years
Now I am just a few months away from my 2nd adoption anniversary. While out on walks I notice the birds outside are very neutral in color compared to my sibling keets. I chase the wild birds. I am not sure what I would do if I caught one.
My parents fear that I will try to eat the keets and keep reminding me we are related.
I know to act as if I do not care about them. But I do. I want to play with my brothers and sisters. They have more toys than I do and seem to love looking in mirrors. It might be fun to carry them around or take them for rides on my back. I do jump at them, and last week actually pulled Kelly's tail. They run to the top perch when I stretch to reach them. The only window of opportunity is on Sunday when they are briefly on the floor for cage cleaning.
They dart about and are too quick for even a playful lick.
Several times this summer another relative was here. This one has a "K" name, but is not a "keet." Her name is Kiera, and she seems to be Mommy's grandniece, making me what? A cousin? I think I am more senior than she-she sits in a swing, a carriage or a car seat. No fun. A prisoner, not free like me. I am discouraged from licking her also.
I also have met the newbies. They are not pups; fully grown but younger than my parents.
I have adjusted to the keets, they do not come out, they have their own house. I have not given up the idea of playing with them.
Life is good. I am really the only child. The house is mine. I can sit anywhere sleep anywhere and have the whole backyard I have a retired doting Mom, and Father who comes home to play with me.
and I have a pack who reads about me each week in my blog, LiamLicks. Here are some fun pix of me enjoying my life.

Woof woof