Ahhhh! This is why I live in Colorado. Today, the high temperature was 74, so I took the motorcycle to work. I didn't get out of work early enough to drive anywhere except home, but it was nice to be on the bike again.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon with my siblings and thier S.O.s (and JR & Stacey and Paden). I got to meet my brother's girlfriend's Akita. Such a sweet dog. Towards the end of the evening, we were playing Guitar Hero, a Wii game that's played on a guitar-like controller. Jenn persuaded me to try it, and after an initial frustration with it, I started to get better and started to like it. It's a very good thing that I don't own a Wii. That would get way too addictive.
Also, on Friday, I led a group tour of my project for a group called Women In Design. It's an appropriate fit, since so many of the key people on the project are women. Anyway, I'm told it was a good tour. That's good, 'cause I was tired of talking by the end. The building itself is pretty darn impressive. They just poured the 31st level last weekend. Almost to the top!
And I am REALLY looking forward to the long weekend.
Life is good.
PS - While looking for a site that shows what an Akita looks like, I found this site, which has stories about the history of the Akita, two of which are particularly touching:
First was the story of Hachi-Ko, one of the most revered Japanese Akitas of all time. He was born in 1923 and was owned by Professor Eizaburo Ueno of Tokyo. Professor Ueno lived near the Shibuya Train Station in a suburb of the city and commuted to work every day on the train. Hachi-Ko accompanied his master to and from the station each day. On May 25, 1925, when the dog was 18 months old, he waited for his master's arrival on the four o'clock train. But he waited in vain; Professor Ueno had suffered a fatal stroke at work. Hachi-Ko continued to wait for his master's return. He traveled to and from the station each day for the next nine years. He allowed the professor's relatives to care for him, but he never gave up the vigil at the station for his master. His vigil became world renowned, and shortly after his death, a bronze statue was erected at the train station in his honor.
However, just as the breed was stabilizing in its native land, World War II pushed the Akita to the brink of extinction. Early in the war the dogs suffered from lack of nutritious food. Then many were killed to be eaten by the starving populace, and their pelts were used as clothing. Finally, the government ordered all remaining dogs to be killed on sight to prevent the spread of disease. The only way concerned owners could save their beloved Akitas was to turn them loose in the most remote mountain areas. There the breed's hardiness and keen hunting instincts helped them survive the war years.