Welcome to my kitchen

A while ago, I realized I was serious enough about bread baking to stop diddling around with the 3-packs of yeast from the grocery store, or even the small jars for a small fortune. So I pulled up my big girl pants, and ordered "A Pound Of Yeast". It's in my freezer, and I use it regularly, and I guess that makes me "A Baker". Even though I always said "I can't bake". So, join me on my journey, and let's see what that pound of yeast makes, and where we go next....

Monday, September 5, 2011

Happy Birth-A-Versary Lulu !!

So, another slight digression from food, because, three years ago today, the little gray fuzz bomb I eventually named Lulu came into my life.  September 5, 2008.  The day I got….Goobered.

While, as we’ve established, Lulu’s older sister Rosie is a Princess (with a capital “P”, please), Lulu is not.  I think I’d had her home for a day or two, and just looked at her and said out loud, “you’re just a little Goober aren’t you”.  And she is.  A Goober, that is.

Stubborn…..willful…..obstinate.  Yeah, those’d all describe my Lulu.  Silly, goofy, playful, devoted.  Yeah, those’d all be my Lulu as well.  A Princess, she’s not.  If she were a real kid (instead of a fur kid), she’d be the one with the skinned knees, and the snotty nose, and the ripped shirt and the mud stains, and the dead frog in her pocket and the tangled hair.  But she’d also be the one bringing Mazzie the bouquet of dandelions and weeds and maybe flowers purloined from the neighbor’s gardens, just to show Mazzie how much she loved her.

A Goober.

Here she is when she was “new”.  She was skinny…really skinny.

And timid.  So shy.  Scared.  I think she was totally overwhelmed by the new environs and experiences, for the first two days I had her, I didn’t think she was capable of barking.

That soon changed, as did her shyness and the whole "skinny" thing.  She’s pretty chubby now, and certainly has no problem whatsoever making herself heard and seen and known.  She’s become pretty pushy my Lulu has.

“In your face” would be a good descriptor.  What is she ?  Well, unlike her sister, I’m not so sure.  Looking at Rosie, it’s clear she’s mostly, if not all Bichon.  Lulu, she’s got a lot of Shih Tzu in her, but she’s got somethin’ else as well.  What….who knows?  Terrier of some ilk, probably.  And something that gives her HUMONGOUS feets !  She’s got feets that could register on the Richter scale when she gets to running.  From the Shih Tzu she gets the stubborn attitude (they’re amongst the hardest breeds to train and housebreak, and *I* can certainly speak to the latter….LULU !).  She’s also got the Shih Tzu coat (long and silky, with a downy undercoat), the pushed in nose and under bite and the big, googly eyes.  And she knows how to work those eyes.  Downcast and coy one moment, looking up at me through her lashes, blinky and looking all innocent the next second, and then sort of shifty and guilty….all in the space of about a minute.

And then there’s that sweet and loving look….gets me every time….

Lulu also came from the Long Beach, California animal shelter, operated jointly by the City of Long Beach and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, Los Angeles (SpcaLA).  All the dogs I’ve ever had have been rescues.  It’s just something I believe in and am committed to.  I had just lost my special baby dog Snickers….and Rosie was lonely.  I thought she’d be happy being the only child, but not so much.  So off I went to the shelter, and there was Lulu.  Only at that time she was called “Twinkie”.  Mental note, first thing up, change the dog’s name.

She’d been a stray, and when I found her, they were still holding her for someone to claim her.  She had another 4 days in “jail” before I could meet her and adopt her.  First thing the morning she was available, I was at the door to the shelter (work….?  Work can wait, I’m gettin’ a dog).  The workers brought her to me, and they put her in my arms.  I was wearing a sweater with a scoop neck, and she took that pushed in little snout and jammed it right into my chest and proceeded to lick her way up my neck and into my face.  Which she still does every time I come home.

So of course, I was smitten.  Brought Rosie in to meet her, they got along OK, signed the papers, cut the check and home she came after the little puppy hysterectomy.

Yes, she gets along quite well with Rosie,

‘though Rosie sometimes (most times) looks totally exasperated with her.  Rosie’s just far, far too cool to be bothered with Goobers.

Yes.  The stuffy, squeekie toys sleep in bed with us, thanks for askin’.

I had the hardest time naming her.  All of my other dogs had literally named themselves.  With Lulu I was going on the third night at home and she still didn’t have a name.  I finally was holding her in my lap, and just looked at her and said “Tell me your name, little girl”.  And Lulu came to me.

And so Lulu she is.  Well and a Goober.

You doubt that, check out this position.  I can’t decide if she looks like a mongoose or a snake…

I finally decided she was the "Mon-Goober".

Yes, those are little slimy doggie nose smears all over the front window.  They both like to hang out on the back of that couch to monitor the comings and goings on the little street.  Yes, I should clean my window more often....thanks fer noticing !

And then there’s this…..

…Road kill Goober aka Flat Goober.  It’s how she lays on the floor, especially when it’s hot.

And her wuvs her Bwoo Mousie her duz….

When she’s bad (often), instead of getting smacked (which doesn’t work and is cruel) or yelled at (which REALLY doesn’t work….), she gets spritzed with water from a spray bottle.  Which frequently leads to... 

….Madder Than a Wet Goober.  Lulu most certainly does NOT like to be wet.

And yes, she got subjected to the Dodger Dog hat…

….and the Santa Hat.

She’s silly, she’s intense, she’s over-the-top affectionate, she’s never far from my side if I’m home, she’s a brat and a Goober, and she still takes that little pug nose and pushes it into my neck to lick me as though she’ll never be able to give me a kiss ever again.  She talks and mumbles and grumbles under her breath when I make her stop barking (because she’s *got* to have the last word).  I love her for all those things, and for how she walks around the house with the squeekie toy hanging from her chops, biting down and squeeeeeking and pushing the toy into me and Rosie while simultaneously squeeeeking it.   Drives Rosie nutz, makes me smile.

Lulu.  She’s one of a kind, as they all are.  I’m so glad she was there at the shelter when I needed her.

Back to food and/or baking tomorrow or the next day !  And you’re probably safe from doggie posts until next July !  Thanks for putting up with me.  And for understanding how deeply and profoundly I love my Rosie and my Lulu.

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