lady

We had a overweight, poorly trained springer spaniel when I was growing up. Ironically, she was named “Lady” although there was nothing lady-like about her. She was nice enough, but she lived in a kennel my Dad had built against the back wall of our brick house. The condition of the kennel is for another post. Suffice to say if you saw it, you would not be surprised to hear that my Dad grew up on a farm. The kennel, affixed to a 1958 split-level in suburban Chicago, looked like some kind of pig sty apropos to southern Indiana. But, as I said, that is for a later day.

Today’s topic is the dog show in which I entered Lady. I really, really wanted Lady to be Lassie, but other than the first two letters of their respective names, there were no similarities. None at all.

And I wasn’t dumb. Even at age 10, I was astute enough to realize that Lady had no chance in the obedience contest, nor in the looks contest (reference “untrained” and “overweight” in the first paragraph). The dog show, however, had a costume competition. Perfect. Lady was compliant enough so if I fashioned a costume, I knew she’d go along. The question remained . . . what would an award-winning costume look like?

Now I must digress to tell you that no one in my family, save perhaps one sister who did not live at home, had any sewing ability whatsoever. In fact, one had a hard time finding scissors in our house and when found, they were always dull to the point of uselessness.

I let the whole costume issue go to ’til the last minute, when I knew desperation would bring a good idea, which it did.

On the morning of the dog show I removed my 16 year-old sister’s blue and white, two-piece bathing suit from our room while she slept. Then, with my Dad’s assistance, I worked Lady into the suit. The bottoms were particularly troublesome, but we managed. My Dad then dropped us at the dog show.

I don’t remember him sticking around for the show. Apparently he had some pride. Sadly we only received a “participant” ribbon, but it was the only ribbon I’d ever gotten for anything so I was pleased. That is until I got home and faced my sister.

DMV – part II

I’ve posted a lot today but know you are anxious to hear how my trip to the DMV went. It was a highly successful venture. For $12.75 I can now drive legally.

The only hitch was when I was filling out the application and came to “weight.” As my pen descended into the square, I seriously considered lying. Not by a lot, but shaving 4 or so pounds off because I was thinking that the last time I got my license I weighed less. This moral tussle caused me pause. What would I lie? To save myself from the disapproval of the woman at the DMV counter? As if she was going to look at my old license on file, compare it to the new application and think less of me?

Before I started flossing regularly, I regularly lied. After awhile I merely shaded the truth. One time she asked how often I flossed, and I replied, “Not as often as I’d like.” Really. I said that. Not, “Not as often as I should” or “Not as often as you think I should.” So not only was I trying to pull the wool over on the flossing issue but was trying to make myself out to be well-intentioned.

The interesting thing about this phenomena is that I don’t lie about anything else. For whatever reason, dental hygienists and DMV personnel seem to bring it out in me.