What's in a Name...

Rye is a cereal grain that is hardy and tolerant of frost and drought.  It is, therefore, often grown when and where other cereal grains fail.  Its resiliency and hardiness are characteristics derived from the strength of its root system and its efficiency...rye typically uses 20 to 30 percent less water than wheat.

The purposes for which rye is cultivated are broad.  Its most recognizable end use is bread, though rye bread has traditionally been considered less "luxurious" than its cousin, wheat bread.  It is the bread of the people...utilitarian.  The grain is also cultivated to feed grazing animals and to benefit the environment by reducing erosion, promoting water retention in soil, and reducing the need for and use of herbicides.  (http://www.gramene.org/species/secale/rye_intro.html).

The Oxford English Dictionary simply says that rye is "a wheatlike cereal plant that tolerates poor soils and low temperatures."

Of course, rye is also sometimes used to make a spirit known as rye whiskey.  It is rumored to be deliciously intoxicating and the near forgotten traditional preference of persons of discriminating palate.

Our Rye is not named after whiskey, nor is she necessarily named after a wheat-like grain.  However, we hope that she is as unique as her name and will endeavor to instill resilience, sturdiness, and a hint of deeply rooted traditional charm in this little girl as she grows.

rye (the grain)

Rye (the Pilmer)

So... this happened

The (over)Stimulation Station

We call this the (over)Stimulation Station.  It came with a Ritalin prescription.

Here is a Rye's Eye view...

(I had this dream in college one time after an all-nighter...of the non-studying sort).

I Just Like this Picture

I took this photo with my phone, using one of those polaroid apps.  Nothing particularly special...just another cute shot of baby Rye.  These things pretty much take themselves...

On another note, it looks like the little girl has her first bug.   Nothing terribly alarming...but, stand by for stories of all-night consoling laced with projectile vomit. 

Rye's first journey in the Yuppie-Mobile

I used to laugh at all the attractive young parents wheeling their little treasures around the park in these things.  Now I am one...well, I'm wheeling my little treasure around, at least.  I hardly feel young or attractive after two and a half weeks at home on an infant's schedule.

Ellie and Rye

Meet Ellie.  This is her looking disinterested and unaffected:

We adopted her in January, 2009 shortly after losing Marley, who had followed me for thirteen years from San Angelo to Lubbock and ultimately to Denver.  She's about two-and-a-half years old and still adjusting to civilization.  We don't know where she was or what she did before we got her, but we've extrapolated that none of it was leash related.

With all that said, she has a very sweet and gentle disposition and has not given us a reason to worry about her adjustment to Rye.

She's been interested and curious about Rye, but not overly rambunctious around her, which has been nice.  She has managed to sneak in a lick to the face or two...which seems to be about all she is interested in.

I set my camera up and staked out a position like a National Geographic photographer trying to capture the mating ritual of a shy spider monkey to get the shot below...

Three More Days...

I've been off work for two weeks now and will be going back on Monday.  That means I have three more (working) days of stickin' it to tha man.  In the meantime, this is what I did instead of going to work this morning.

Ordinarily, I would not post such an unflattering photo of myself on the internet, but the sheer cuteness on the other side of the equation more than compensates for my bedraggled appearance.  Plus, looking like a disheveled mess is something the man won't stand for.  So take that, man!