Violet-watch, Day 3: Keiko has begun to creep around downstairs while the dog is present. I think she got tired of being cooped up in two rooms upstairs. She has taken to hissing and spitting and puffing up if Violet gets too close or evinces a little too much interest. This has the desired effect on the dog who now slinks away or goes and lies down in order to gaze at the cats in a very baffled way from afar. I'm very happy since I was afraid Keiko would not stand up for herself. While I was out this evening, John advised me, both cats hung out in various parts of the living room while Violet spent some time with him watching the Packers game. I am cautiously optimistic. Also, the Packers won.
And where was I? Classes started tonight, and Wuthering Heights Community College lived up to its nickname. We had fog, howling winds, and if it was as much as 50 degrees Fahrenheit up there I'm a monkey's uncle. Class was good, though. I believe I will like Philosophy 103 very much indeed as it is all methodology and arguments, not the history of philosophy or any mucking about with theory. The professor's accent is a confusing mix of Scottish and Albanian. Well, that's my first conclusion, anyway. I kept hearing him say, "We cannut haf a Russian argument bezed on a Russianal premises." Many seconds later I would realize he was saying rational argument, irrational premises. It made for an interesting lecture, I'll say that.
Let me leave you with a stellar client story. A family I work with a lot recently went to Europe for a couple of weeks. Their surname is European, and I know they think highly of their ties with the mother country although they are thoroughly, multi-generationally American. At the last minute I had to organize private transportation for them at the airport for their last night in Europe even though we had deliberately decided on an airport hotel instead of one downtown because it had a free shuttle service. This meant a great deal of faxing and phoning and speaking to several layers of hotel management since the concierge had gone home for the evening. In speaking to the wife confirming the arrangements (two limos, one for them, one for their 15 pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage) she mentioned having been on a private tour of the local countryside. They saw many interesting little villages, apparently, and had a pleasant day frolicking among the quaint natives, eating tasty cheeses, and buying antiques.
"But do you know what?" she said with genuine astonishment. "Not one of them spoke English!"
Some days I'm embarrassed to be an American.
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