I stopped by Alli's house on Sunday (actually, her owner owns the house) to find out how the awards ceremony went, and while there Elaine (the owner of Alli and the house) gave me mine (my award, not my ceremony). One half was a T-shirt courtesy of the Orlando Science Center. On the front it says Pet Fair 2008, and on the back STAFF. I get the feeling it wasn't made just for me. But it's free so I don't mind. The other half was a family membership to the Science Center. Supposedly they have all kinds of neat stuff there, like an observatory, a huge movie theater, and exhibits featuring biological, archaeological, paleontological, geological, anagogical, and purely logical phenomena. That's good because I'm a bit of a science geek. For example, H2O = water. Not bad, huh? I also know that the universe probably started with a big kaboom, that the ingredients for life (before they were living) got together in a big soup bowl - sort of like what happens with a recipe except that there was no recipe-maker - which then fit themselves together like a jigsaw puzzle except that there was no puzzlemaker nor anyone to do the fitting, and, voila!, they (which was now an it) came to life. That is, it started moving about of its own accord or otherwise behaving in ways that seemed to indicate it was somehow different from the heretofore seen objects in the material world except that there was no one to do the seeing. As my kids used to say, "It was a accident."
I also know that this accident has led to the intellectually compelling conclusion that we are too. It's pretty simple: you can't start with an accident and end up with a plan. Well, you could but the universe can't because it doesn't have one. This is the truth and we must teach it to our children. It's called evolution. I've always wondered why, if it's true, it didn't imprint its truth on our minds without this annoying, and rather lengthy, religious interim (which shows no signs of going away) but that's probably because I'm not evolved enough.
I also know that the correct name for the mother-of-all-waves is "tumamis", and that a highly endowed male wave who goes about capsizing ships and charming the froth off all the female waves is called a "rogue." As you can see I'm pretty conversant in a variety of areas, so the folks at the Science Center will probably be glad to see me stop by. I'd even be willing to do a little pro-bono tour guiding.
Oh. I got distracted. Well, while Elaine's telling me how suitably modest the mayor was in receiving his award, I'm sitting on the floor trying to wrestle a soft toy ball away from her snarling silkie terrier. I'd tear it away and throw it down the hall. He takes off after it and brings it back. Over and over again. He never got tired. Every now and then Alli, jealous of the attention, barks her way in, turns her rear end toward me and looks back at me as though expecting something. I finally figured out she wanted her back scratched. She never tired of that, either. At one point I stood up holding the ball in my left hand with the silkie terrier hanging on, snarling, his hind feet barely on the ground while I'm conversing with Elaine.
Alli seems to be recovering nicely. The only thing still unknown is the pit bull's fate. There was a hearing but the judge has yet to render his decision. So I'll get back to you when he does.