(Aside from some edits to the original piece that I will hopefully make to look less cosmetically pathetic, here are thoughts inexplicably left out, including a really obvious bit.)
My nerdy windmill obsession is derived, of course, from Don Quixote. I explained to my sister all about "tilting at windmills," and the two layers of the famous scene featuring the would-be knight and the topic of that day. Good stuff.
I didn't mention a single dog! And there were lots!
The first and foremost was Jack. Jack is a goofy German short-haired pointer. He's pretty awesome (although he can sometimes be a handful, and by "sometimes" I mean nearly all the time he is awake). He made the whole trip with us.
In Stoutland there were a few more dogs! I had a chance to reunite with Jill, a wonderful little beagle (not lost in a transporter accident by Scotty) who loves to kiss kiss kiss (and lap-snuggle), and Chewy, a black Lab who was a wee puppy when I last saw him. Not so small anymore! And slightly less bitey! When he was small he had the habit of taking his name very literally, and he took to this talent very liberally. Now in mature mode, he does that only playfully, and I imagine he's great fun to have around on a regular basis, very companionable.
(That's our nickname for her!)
(Chewy doesn't require anything more.)
There were a few more dogs, including Fiona (a running mate of Chewy's) and a neighbor's dog who spends more time there than at home.
But for a time, I was in doggy heaven. Now with more goats!