Indiana and Dogs

Lucky, lucky Dirtbunny. She has to, I mean she gets to, spend next week in fabulous Indianapolis at a mandatory conference put on by the Teeny Tiny Government Entity. Some people were hoping that it would get canceled on the account of the economy, but no. So I will be gone next week. I got me my plane tickets. I got me my special soap and shampoo so I'm not stuck with hotel soap and shampoo (I'd pack towels and a pillow if I had space). I got me my safety cup (so I can drink the brown water that hotels call coffee without spilling). I got me my Ipod loaded with learn-to-speak-Italian stuff. I got me my knitting projects (or I will decide which ones to take). I have programmed the DVR to capture the Champions League, Bundesliga, Serie A, and La Liga matches that I would otherwise miss. I have started the laundry.

Aside from hotel conference room chairs, hotel conference lunch buffets, hotel conference "coffee," and fabulous speakers on fabulous topics, I get some forced socializing with the people I work with every damn day. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to that, because it's spring time, and spring time is when Dirtbunny's depression likes to hit the skids, so socializing seems like an impossible task. But I also get the following amazing perks:

One: I will not have to cook my own dinner. This means I won't be having anything good for dinner until I get back, but still.

Two: Beagle-free time. I love them, but it will be nice not to have Tiki clawing at my boobs and Kirby kicking me in the back all the time.

Here we have Mr. Don't-Touch-Me using the object of his scorn as a pillow...

...as he stretches out and demands a belly rub.

He has it rough, poor little dog.

[sleeping in The Man's spot, as usual]

No beagle time means no more daily trips to the vet to drop off Kirby, and then second daily trips to the vet to pick him up. He's done with his radiation. I took some photos of his "graduation" (gag!) on his last day. I wasn't going to post them because they are out of focus, but then I decided that they capture Kirby's special nature perfectly. So here he is coming out after his last day of cancer treatment:

[kinda happy, as you can tell by the prancing front foot, but also, what are you going to do to me now? Where's Bunny? Where am I? What's happening?]

[There you are Bunny. Can we go?]

[I said let's go! Why aren't we going yet?]

Yes, they gave him a bandana to wear. Don't ask me why. His side effects are supposed to kick in while I'm gone. While it might be comforting to be around when they are happening, because I would have the illusion of control over the whole thing, I have to say that there's an upside to not being there while he's suffering. Poor little guy. We are going to do a treatment dress rehearsal tomorrow, so The Man will know The Correct Way We Do Things Around Here (tm), but if he decides to do things his way, well, what I don't know won't hurt me.

The Bianconeri play the Calabrians (Reggina) tomorrow, but it is not being broadcast. Reggina is dead last in Serie A, so the Zebras actually have a shot, but I won't get to see it. Oh well. To soothe myself, here are some photos that make Bunny happy:

[Gigi speaking the international language of "Who? Me?" to a Hibernian he recently flattened]

[Capi looking like he's about to beat the crap out of that wanker, Iaquinta. I'm not sure what Capi is really doing, and Iaqunita probably needed to have the crap beaten out of him--he usually does--but somehow I doubt that this is actually what is depicted here. Still, a girl can dream.]

[Mr. January offering you a platter of prosciutto, because he works part-time in the deli, and if you would just spend your tourism dollars in Emilia-Romagna, you might just bump into him. Yeah. Right. Please note that the German word for "parmesan" includes the root "cheese." In other words, in German, "parmesan" is "parmesancheese." And you wonder why German words are so long.]

And here's ADP sharing an affectionate moment with his protege-slash-groupie, Sebastian Giovinco. ADP is not a large man. He's listed as 5'8", which means that maybe, MAYBE, he's 5'7 1/2" with his boots on. Look how tiny Little Sebastian is. He's fast though. When he learns to defend and to finish his shots, he's going to be a humdinger.