Well hello remarkably stress-free weekend! I've missed you! I haven't seen the likes of you around these parts in so long! No grading! Very little class planning which can certainly be put off until tomorrow morning! Only two days of work next week! I am a happy happy girl!

Yesterday was a near perfect day. I drove over with Basho, across this wide handsome state, to see Frances and Jeff. Me and Frances and Buddy and Basho walked down to the river, the Deep River. We slipped and slid our way up and down a muddy embankment, although Basho never once lost his footing even when he slammed his rock-hard skull into my face and bloodied my lip (earlier in the day he'd run straight into my shin where I now sport a bruise the shape and size of his head--he is destructo dog). Frances showed me a secret grave (Elizabeth Bowden? Was that her name? 1872-1946). Basho has not looked so happy and joyful and content in ages. I decided I must get myself into such a place and soon, too. I imagine what it would be like to wake up in the morning and to walk outside my front door and then to be able to just keep on walking, over my pasture, down the dirt and grass road, through the woods, down to the river. Basho jumped in every bit of water he could find and little old Buddy even followed him into the pond. The two of them crack me up when they're together. Basho is about 10 times as big as Buddy (well, ok, maybe 5 times) but Buddy is the boss of their operation. Bash is the hired gun. Bash does Buddy's dirty work.

Later we sat around a heater and drank beers and ate pizza while Basho used all his dubious charms on Frances's and Jeff's friend PHunt trying to finagle just a bite of pizza for himself. He did not succeed. Jeff regaled us with stories from his wild youth involving joy rides and bras and private moments with parentus-interruptus. I have not giggled so much since, well, Thursday night's marathon M.A.S.H. session at the bar with Frances and Scott.

Basho slipped out of the house and out of the fenced yard out into freedom a few too many times for my liking (and after such tales of fast trucks and dead dogs!), but he came back fairly agreeably each time. Damned pup has absolutely no fear of the highway and he nearly had me fainting dead away, what with his running straight out into the path of a fast-moving fat-cat SUV. We made the acquaintance of a collarless dog (who looked well-fed and cared for, actually) who seemed to have taken up residence in the barn. I was sorely tempted to bring him on home with us, though I know I can't. I don't have the luxury of taking in strays, do I. Someday, my friends, I will live in the country and I will have room and freedom enough to invite in all the dogs and all the cats too. That is all I ask from life.

At the end of the night Basho and Buddy climbed into the truck with me and Bash rested his wayward head on my lap and Buddy rested his wayward head on Basho and thus we drove the quiet roads all the way home. Buddy's staying with us until Tuesday or Wednesday and we could not be happier to have him, and by we, I mean me and Basho but most of all Harold. Because Buddy likes it when Harold grooms him. Nobody else in this house will stand for such death grip licking anymore. But old Buddy's a clean palate and Harold looks at him like he's sizing him up, like he's got his work cut out for him, like a starving man confronted with a side of beef.

You know what I'm going to do today? I'm going to do arts and crafts. I'm going to go the craft store even. And I'm going to take the pups down to the lake in the afternoon because we missed the early morning bus already and I don't like to go during the mid-morning. And I'm going to start the deep cleaning of this deeply dirty stinkpot house because I am having guests! In just a few days!

Oh boy. No more exclamation points. I promise.