After watching a good four hours of Battlestar Galactica (watching it from the beginning, bought the DVDs), I turned on some random Law and Order SVU episode that tivo had recorded. Having seen every episode of L&OSVU except maybe two or three from the last season (and many of those episodes more than once), I was able to describe the whole plot from the first 30 seconds of the show. Kris was unsurprised.

A short bit into the show, which started with a dog chasing down a suspect, then finding another body (dead, of course), the officer with the dog called out to the other officers, "Detectives! You're going to want to see this. She (the dog) found a body."

This sentence immediately started me off on my "you're going to want to see this" rant (and how this show actually got it right). I can't stand television or movie dialog where one character says something like, "Captain, you're going to want to see this." If I were the captain, I would immediately shoot back, "Don't tell me I'm 'going to want to see this,' just tell me what the frack I'm going to see when I walk over there. Then I'll decide if I want to see "this." But don't tell me to come over to look. Idiot."

Kris laughed, then started talking about the dog, and other shows he had seen about work dogs. I cut him off and told him my dog stories.

When I was in junior high, we lived down the street from the Herrings. In particular, Officer Bob Herring, who we referred to as Ossifer Herring. He had a K-9 dog (crap, I can't recall her name), who was incredibly well trained. Dad tells the story of when Bob showed the dog his gun, pointed to the gun and said, "Mine." then set the gun on the floor. The dog went up to the gun, pulled it under herself, and sat on it. It was Bob's gun, and no one else was going to get it.

Another story of that dog was of when it was chasing an armed suspect. Said suspect had a gun and was running away when the dog was released. He had thrown away the gun and thrown his hands up just as the dog was leaping at the suspect, presumably for the throat. Mid-air, she heard Bob's call to stop, and managed to twist in the air mid-leap. Instead of killing the man, she merely knocked him over.

There were other dog stories (what was that dog's name?), but I'm blanking on them now. It was a big dog, not one I think I'd want, but definitely a very well trained dog.

Kris managed to finish his working dog story by describing a K-9 dog that lived at the officer's house, with two kids like five and three. The K-9 dog knew he was a pet when he was home, but the officer had to be very careful about what words he used around the dog. Sure, he was a pet, but he was also an animal trained to kill. When guests came over, people unknown to the dog, the officer had to be more careful, as the dog was typically fairly protective of the kids.

His other story, and the one he enjoyed more was about a shepherd who had three border collies. One was the dominant work dog. The shepherd gave his command to her, and she directed the other two (in dog-speak!) to execute the command. Kris said they were amazing to watch.

Yeah, watching. Time to turn off the television and do some work.

Whoo! Megan had her baby this morning! Mirabelle Margaret Smith! WhoO! Mark sounded tired on the phone. He hadn't realized that Kyle had sent an email to the team already.

And the floodgates open. The baby flood begins.

Yay, Mark and Megan! Way to be first!

Oh thank goodness.

Mike called me this morning early to talk. We had been discussing taking on a new contract, but with a difficult client, the last few days. This morning's conversation was a continuation of that discussion. I'm willing to do the work, but I was worried about the stress level of dealing with the client.

Mike slept on it last night, and agreed. We didn't need to add to our stress level. We don't need this client. The contract will not lead to other exciting opportunities (or even un-exciting ones), based on the client's personality.

After I hung up the phone, I must have had a big smile on my face. Kris saw me and started singing, "Ding dong! The witch is dead! Which ol' witch? The wicked witch! Ding, dong, the wicked witch is dead!"

Of course, that song is now stuck in my head.

As I drove up to my house today around lunch, I noticed an older woman stooped near the lemon tree in my front yard. It's a short lemon tree that produces good lemons: if they ripen on the tree, the lemons are fairly sweet, and make great lemonade.

As I turned into my driveway, she stood up quickly, two or three lemons clutched to her chest in a clearly guilty pose.

I chuckled, to myself, thinking, "Yeah, lady, that's my lemon tree you're stealing from," and sat in the car for 20 seconds or so after I parked the car, giving her plenty of time to get away.

Need to check: did she actually take the lemons, or did she waste them by leaving them on the ground near the tree.

I wonder how the avocado tree in the front yard is going to go over when it starts producing. And does anyone steal from the tree two doors down? It has lots of lemons in it, too.

Today after work, Mike stopped by the office with Maeryn and Liza. We were going to talk about dealing with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (though not naming her gives her more power, so fine, Sandie) over dinner. When Mike arrived, he realized there were no diapers in the baby-bag with which to change Maeryn, and decided to head to Target to pick some up.

Figuring it would be a short jaunt, and dinner would quickly follow, I agreed to go, and off the four of us went.

After about an hour with Liza and Maeryn in tow, wandering upstairs and downstairs, from tolietries to toys, girl's clothes to art work, outdoor equipment to shoes, we decided to finally go get food. Liza and I were both hungry, with Miss Cranky-Pants and her little friend, too, paying a short visit.

Into the elevator we all tromped, with Liza excited to push the down button. "Press the one, Liza," Mike instructed, then asked her, "How high can you count?"

Liza looked up at us.

"How high can you count?" he prompted again.

She didn't say anything.

I tried. "How high can you count? I can count to, uh, one billion!"

In her dryest, so-very-close-to-adult-sarcastic voice, Liza responded, "Oh, Kitt. I am sooooo amazed."

The elevator doors opened, and she turned to skip out of the elevator. Mike burst out laughing, "Ha! You've just been dissed by a three year old!"