It's Halloween!

It's Halloween! Miss Boogie says,

               "Gimme the candy!"

Oh! Joe! (Banana Joe)

Miss Boogie just had to post, today. She's so excited about Banana Joe's win, Best in Show, at  Wesminister!

What a handsome dog!

After all her years of struggling to gain Affenpinscher Recognition, "I am not at all a terrier. I am not at all a poodle mix!" Miss Boogie is over the moon with joy.

She is not simply elated that such a handsome dog won, but also that Joe's handler, Ernesto Lara, recognized and spoke so eloquently of the Affenpinscher's innate character and comic wit. 

“This isn’t a breed you train. He’s like a human. You befriend him.” said Lara. “He knows when it’s showtime.”  

 “Like any comedian, when he’s in a situation, he doesn’t think it’s funny,” Lara said. “Once you live with one, you know that’s the standard. They need a comic seriousness.”  

Well, yes, as if any underdog group didn't develop a comic sensibility!  (Just ask the Moms.)

Miss Boogie thrilled at Judge Michael Dougherty's remarks about Banana Joe's  physique. 

 “He has the muscle tone of a big dog,” said Dougherty.

At last! Miss Boogie can hear the crumbling of the "wimpy" stereotypes. At last the recognition for generations of courageous ratting!

"Oh, Joe! My hero!"

What's this? While I've been faithfully typing up Miss Boogie's post someone has booked a flight on my credit card to the Netherlands! Miss Boogie!

P.S. Thanks to the New York Times for the wonderful quotes.

Birthday Poem

For the Mom.

Roses are red.
Dahlias are black.
It's your 65th birthday.
Now, make me a snack.

love, Miss Boogie

 

Round on both ends, Hi in the middle

     This is a wonderful time of year for Miss Boogie, watching her favorite team and enjoying a few sips of brew.
     "Miss Boogie! You haven't been drinking from my glass have you?"

     The Mom really shouldn't put her glass on the floor. Better be cute.

     "Aren't you clever, Miss Boogie! Okay, have a sip."

 Go Bucks!

Ukelele Song

 Miss Boogie has never been fond of winter. That’s putting it mildly.

 Suppose you had to plow through knee or chest or nose deep snow several times a day just to, well—modesty prevents discussion—only to return to the house a walking snowball.

It's humiliating to be grabbed up, dunked in a sink of warm water and blown dry on high speed. Avoiding static fur buzz is tough enough just having the furnace on.

You can imagine Miss Boogie’s joy in spending this past January in Florida!  Smack dab on the beach.

While they were there, Miss Boogie and the Mom visited the Mom's friend, Kat Archer. (Miss Boogie thought Kat was a funny name for a person until she found out it was short for Katherine.) Katherine is a singer-songwriter from St. Augustine. Miss Boogie loved Kat’s "Ukelele Song" so much she helped Kat do a special video.

Love and kisses from the beach,

Miss Boogie

You can find more amazing Katherine Archer music at www.katherinearcher.com.

Miss Boogie's Valentine

 

     "Miss Boogie!"

 

     

 

     "I guess in my haste to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day, some of the candies must have fallen out and rolled under the sofa."

 

 

 

Happy Holidays

Miss Boogie says, "Though you are not the bodhisattva Shariputra, you should rise and dance!"  Throughout the Holidays and the New Year!

Best to all,
Miss Boogie

Miss Boogie at Auction

(Miss Boogie apologizes that it has been so long since her last post. The Mom misplaced the notebook. "Miss Boogie, have you seen the notebook?")

Miss Boogie went to her very first auction, today, in Shipshewana, Indiana. For those of you unfamiliar with Hoosier geography, Shipshewana (Miss Boogie just loves to say it, “Ship-she-wana. Ship-she-wana.”) is in northern Indiana near the Michigan border, in the heart of Amish country.

Miss Boogie had never seen so many horses. The mares had foaled. Frisky foals were tearing around the fields in tandem with the mares, kicking up their heels and rearing stallion-like on their hind legs. Each one seemed to be saying, “I am faster than the wind. I am faster than you. I am having the most fun.” Miss Boogie dubbed them honorary Boogies because they exuded such Boogitude. 

Photo Mom took from the car window.

The mares were sleek brown with dark manes and tails. They trotted so fast pulling the buggies along the side of the highway, Miss Boogie nearly missed them. Miss Boogie loved the Amish girls in their white caps and long skirts riding their bicycles barefoot with their shoes stacked in baskets on the back. She could not figure out why they were riding barefoot, but thought they, like the foals, might just be so happy that it’s finally spring.

After seeing the horses and buggies and the white-capped, barefoot girls, Miss Boogie could have retired for the day, but the best was yet to come—fresh rhubarb pie.

As for the auction itself, Miss Boogie thought it was a lot of squawking and gawking, crowing and crowding—not unlike a cattle stampede—noisy and dangerous. There were six auctioneers singing, “libididdy, libi diddy, libidediddy,” or some such foreign language all at once. Miss Boogie couldn’t sort out any of the words and never saw anyone bid. There were merely random nose scratches, head shakes, and an occasional cough. There were only two other canines present, the first being a small black poodle inside a baby cage underneath a dealer’s table. At least she was safe from trampling if humiliated by the cage. Second was a chihuahua crushed in one arm of its overzealous person, clinging upside-down for dear life, while the human tore through a stack of linens with the other.

Miss Boogie’s people seemed happy. They bought old berry baskets, wicker furniture, and a bunch of old flowerpots on sticks. The Mom bid on a small terrier statue and got it. Miss Boogie thought she had excellent taste.

Miss Boogie could not understand why some old junk was so cheap and some old junk was so expensive. You just couldn’t predict. A tin, only moderately rusted, Easter Bunny from about 1950 sold for $65, while an entire chest of silver plate flatware sold for $25. A pair of pink flamingo yard birds on stilts, just like the ones the Moms have in the garage, sold for $95 each. 

And some guy from Chicago bought 19 raggedy old punk dolls—knock-em-over-three-throws-for-a-quarter—from a long ago forgotten carnival for $45 each. Miss Boogie was stupefied until the Mom’s friend showed her a listing from the internet of similarly forgotten and battered punk dolls selling for $235 each. That guy had just made $190 times 19! Miss Boogie desperately needed a calculator.

That was when Miss Boogie stopped looking for pie crumbs on the floor and started to pay attention.

By the way, Miss Boogie wants to mention how attractive she thought all the Amish gentlemen were in their black hats and beards.

Splish Splash

 Miss Boogie has had the vapors. She claims the wretched summer heat is the reason she has not written. Indeed, she has swooned and fainted as any good Virginia lady might.


   That is, until she recently was inspired by the oldies but goodies station and the neighbor's "pool."

   Miss Boogie says she will get back to you as soon as the weather cools down.

Diary of an Artist's Retreat, Part III

Miss Boogie, Minimalist

  As Miss Boogie reported last week, an artist’s retreat is anything but peaceful. The Mom seems to be in some sort of creative frenzy. Not only is she storming ahead on her screenplay, but also she is painting furiously. Which is altogether new for the Mom, at least in Miss Boogie’s lifetime. It seems the Mom painted in college in the remote past, but hasn’t really painted since.

  The Mom has been using Miss Boogie as a model to refresh her technique. The Mom has decided to paint Miss Boogie in the style of some of her favorite painters. Since last week, the Mom has painted Miss Boogie in the style of Picasso,

Miss Boogie in the style of Picasso

 Miro,

Miss Boogie in the style of Miro

Modigliani,

Miss Boogie in the style of Modigliani

and Mondrian.

sketch for Miss Boogie Sleeping in the Sun in the style of Mondrian

So far Miss Boogie's favorite style is early nieceling.

Miss Boogie, Early Nieceling

Diary of an Artist's Retreat, Part II

    Miss Boogie loves being an artist-in-residence, though technically the Mom is the artist. Miss Boogie must sit in all those tiring poses while the Mom sketches her. Miss Boogie says, "It is more difficult being a Muse than one might imagine."

After she worked all day, the Mom took Miss Boogie into Coloma to Easy Street. It’s a very nice bar and grill on the main street near the movie theater. (Boogie noticed that the movie theater will give you popcorn for 50 cents, if you bring your own bucket. She hopes to go back there before the residency is up. She is looking for a bucket.) They, Easy Street not the movie theater, have Bell’s on tap. It is Berrien County. 

    The Mom and Miss Boogie sat at the bar. The Mom had an “Easy Street,” wheat and struck up a conversation with the bartender, Amanda. Turns out Amanda, who looks about 24, is 34 and has five kids. The oldest is 17. The Mom was flabbergasted. “Yup, that’s what the winters here will do to you.” Amanda said.

    Amanda had just planted a lilac bush in her yard. She said lilacs were her favorite, so there was an instant bond with the Mom. The smell of lilacs reminds Amanda of her grandmother. Amanda’s eleven-year-old daughter wants to know how soon the bush will be beautiful. “When God lets it have time to grow.” Amanda said. “Everything happens for a reason in its own time.” The Mom thought she heard Amanda’s grandmother, or maybe her own.

    Amanda had lots of great tips for spending time in Southwest Michigan, especially food tips. Her mother-in-law runs a restaurant in Keeler called Keeler’s Keg and Kitchen. They’re famous for their pizza, but Amanda says the Keeler Prime Sandwich, au jus, with green pepper (mango as they call them in Indiana) on a homemade roll is the best. The Mom took the challenge and wrote down the directions because the best Italian roast beef and mango ever is still at Art’s Pizza in Anderson, Indiana. 

 

Miss Boogie was licking her dainty lips over the Italian roast beef when she heard the best news of all.

    If you follow Friday Road south, out of Coloma, go under the freeway, about half a mile, next to the Contessa Winery, there’s a  chocolate shop (Vineyards Gourmet) with truffles and hand-dipped chocolates made from all the native fruits of Michigan and their newest creation, chocolate covered bacon! Miss Boogie’s tiny pink tongue was curled all the way over her tiny black nose, and she was in a tap dancing rapture that would make a Sufi swoon.

Diary of an Artist's Retreat

  

    Miss Boogie is fond of pie. 

    She has been on retreat with the 2^nd Mom at Blueberry View for not quite two days. Already they have found two bakeries. Miss Boogie has observed that there are certain necessities for the writer on retreat—baked goods, homemade soup and a bottle (perhaps two) of white wine. Miss Boogie volunteered to taste the baked goods to determine if they were fit for the Mom. The Mom trusts Miss Boogie’s palate. 

    Miss Boogie found Alinda’s pies at Bob’s Barn Farm Market and Bakery to be especially good. Alinda, though she goes by Lyn here because people are confused when she says, “Alinda.” They think she is saying, “a Linda,” which makes no sense if you think about it. It’s like “the Donald,” but nobody else would go by such a name. Oh, well, maybe “the” Moms. Anyway, Alinda specializes in pies from fruits native to Michigan. The Bob’s is located in a blueberry field, after all.

    Miss Boogie has already reviewed the cherry and blueberry. Tomorrow she will try the peach, and on Thursday she hopes to sample the pineapple upside-down pie. Though she doesn’t believe that pineapple is a native Michigan fruit, Miss Boogie trusts Alinda’s fine arts of pastry.

    Miss Boogie has also observed that as with other sports requiring stamina, carbo-loading and energy snacking are important in long-distance writing—novels, screenplays and anything with a deadline. The Mom bought a bag of apricot kipfels, at the Golden Brown Bakery in South Haven, that Miss Boogie keeps hiding, (“No, no!” Miss Boogie insists. “Write ‘moving.’”) in order to provide the Mom appropriate breaks in her long stretches of sitting at the computer. “Miss Boogie, where are the cookies?” 

Proper hydration is also essential for the writer. Miss Boogie makes certain the Mom has plenty of fluids.

 

Which is easy since they are in the heart of Michigan wine country.

    A mason jar of lilacs awaited Miss Boogie and the 2^nd  Mom when they arrived at Blueberry View Retreat. It was an omen. Lilacs are the Mom’s favorite flower. She misses them in Virginia. They have difficulty, as does nearly everyone, surviving the hot summers. Lilacs fill the spring countryside of Michigan, however, and the Mom had imagined gathering huge bouquets at the "midnight" florist.

In truth nearly everyone has several overloaded bushes in their yard and gladly let her have as many arms full as she liked.

    Miss Boogie is happy to report that the Mom is actually working. In the first two days she has written 18 scenes for her screenplay, made 5 new drawings, and carefully taken down dictation for 2 new Adventures of Miss Boogie.

    Whew. The Mom deserves a nap.