We're home!

It was a long journey but a fun one. Dayton took a nasty spill in his first race and did several barrel rolls. He came off with a pulled whip muscle so didn't get to race again. It was disappointing but we still had a good time visiting with all the race folk.

We got home last Thursday night and, on Friday morning, Wayde and I drove into San Francisco to pick up our new puppy: Aragon aus dem Gnomenhain. His call name is Rogie, after Rogie Vachon. Let's hope he's small and quick, just like his namesake.



Besides our hopes that he'll offer the North American gene pool some fresh blood, he's already helped me improve myself. His breeders don't speak English (although their daughter does) so I've been corresponding with them in German. For their sake as well as my own, I hope I'm getting better!

He's a beautiful little guy and, after getting over the time difference, is settling into the routine of the house like he was born to it!

Today's entry will be my last one for a while. Tomorrow morning (bright and early), I'm off to Ohio for the NOTRA and WRA National race meets.

Wish us luck!

Wednesday is quickly becoming my favourite day of the week. Why? Well, because that's "food day" in the newspaper world!

Today's NY Times had an interesting article on an artisanal cheesemaker in Connecticut. The next time I'm out that way (hopefully next year), I will have to check them out.

The Sacbee had a good article on heirloom beans today as well. The recipes were kind of ho-hum looking but the article itself was informative. Plus, it included links on where to buy heirloom beans on the Internet.

I'd seen some beans at the farmer's market last weekend but passed them by. There were cranberry beans, still in the pod, and also some shelled beans of unknown type (they weren't labelled and I didn't ask). Maybe next time ...

To keep with the food theme of the day, I made bread, which I will bake tomorrow. The Spawn came home from school with a newfound appreciation for homemade sourdough. As near as I can reckon, she shared her sandwich (sliced chicken breast, sliced tomato, Gruyere cheese, and pesto mayonnaise on homemade spelt sourdough) with someone. That someone thought it was great and so, all of a sudden, homemade brown bread is not the social life killer she'd claimed it to be only yesterday.

Who knew?