The First REAL Snow

The weatherman predicted snow last night, and I didn't know whetherto believe him or not. I did, however, peek out the window when I got up in the early morning hours, and sure enough, it was there. Not just the dusting that we've gotten now. Not feet (or many inches) deep either, but enough to call a real snow. I was sure Canon would be interested, and the evidence of it was little pawprints going back and forth.

Would Miss Caprice be interested enough to get her dainty feet wet? Morning play was a romp through the snow, chasing each other. That pesky Canon got rolled over in the snow by his big sister and didn't seem to mind a bit. He laid under her in the snow not seeming to mind a bit. Canon is used to being on the bottom with a strong female on top.

The play was followed by a snack-- snow!

I like to write about things that make me happy. This was one. On Sunday we hosted a brunch/poodle play date for our poodle friends, Jasper & Roxy and Mr. B. and their people, Nancy & Jeremy and Carmen and Mark. The south sun bathed us in warmth as we watched poodles play and ate.

I've always envied parents, who make friends through their children. We have made new friends through our children, even though they wear curly, furry coats. Roxy is, of course, Canon's sister, and Mr. B was in our puppy kindergarten class at Evi Fox's. All three pups have the same birthdate. The white ones are always thrilled when Mr. B walks into class, and he likewise. The three will also be in the novice obedience class together, as well. Caprice and Jasper formed a "friendship" before the pups were home.

Ahhhh. Dogs!

Night/Morning Reading

It's 1:30 a.m. I can't sleep. The dogs are stretched out between Michael and me, Caprice at my feet, Canon between our heads, feet almost in Michael's face, head at my pillow. He is breathing quickly and loudly. Is anything wrong? I pet him, kiss him, rub his tummy. He groans a bit, slows his breathing, but then goes back to his sleep panting. I wonder if the little wound at his nose is infected. Does he have a fever? I lie there, and lie there, and lie there...

Might as well get up for awhile, I reason. Actually my reason leads me to the kitchen to taste the pineapple cheesecake I have made for my poodle play group brunch in the morning. Back to bed. Still can't sleep. I pick up one of the books on my nightstand, Doug Koktavy's The Legacy of Beezer and Boomer, even though I know it will be a tear jerker, as it is about the author's experiences with the illness and death of his dogs. I cry as soon as I open the book and look at the introduction. I see Ana mentioned, and Julie. I smile thinking of them--just for a moment, because the tears are rolling. By now I am sniffling too, probably louder than Canon's breathing.

Up again for a Kleenex and a good blow. Why on earth did I think I could handle this? I'll write about it in my blog.

I feel my way to the office in the dark, so as not to wake Michael. (How could he be asleep with all this action?) Canon follows me. I sit on the floor and pet him for a short while before I move to the computer, he to seemingly quietly sleep on his pillow, although as I look at him, I see his chest quickly moving up and down. As I watch him, I think of how much I love this fuzzy, white creature, and tears fall again.

The urge to write about Beezer and Boomer is not as strong now. Maybe I'll wait to write more after I read more. If I can read more.

Why I don't like to bake

I enjoy cooking (while not exactly the cleaning up afterwards part), but avoid baking. I finally understand why, and it's pictured at the right.

This was the gluten-free version of Mexican wedding cookies, those rich, little snowballs made with butter and nuts and covered with powdered sugar. The recipe came from our last visit to the St. James Tea Room and the cookies were in our little favor bags that we took home. I faintly recall the chef saying something about if your cookies spread too much, chill the dough. I chilled it for about 10 minutes. (Hey, the oven had been preheating for quite awhile!) The cookies spread, looked unbaked, so I left them in the oven a few more minutes. Not only did we have spread, but overcooked! Darn, I'd been thinking about these cookies since I went gluten-free nine years ago. I thought I'd never taste them again. If I have to depend on my baking, I won't.

Anyway, I'm thinking that with baking, it's got to be near perfect-- there's no going back to fix. If I make a dish, a casserole, a dip, I can tweak it by adding a little salt or season, balancing flavors out. Baking is unforgiving, and I need all the room for forgiveness I can get!

Cream!

I just finishing a cup of Chai, topped with ample whipped cream. I enjoyed it-- enough to want to write about cream. When there's a container of whipping cream in the house, I abandon polite instincts to take a mouthful straight from the carton and hold it in my mouth to enjoy its creamy thickness. (Don't worry, guests, I'd never do this with your cream!) It's not really about the taste, but the texture. For me, the texture of cream gives me comfort- thick, sticking to the walls of my mouth and my tongue, rolling down my throat.

Pumpkin pie is nothing without the whipped cream. Those fancy drinks at Starbucks? Leaving out the whipped to save calories is molesting the drink. I sometimes buy the brand of yogurt that has the cream on top. I eat the cream and give the yogurt to the dogs. Think about your root beer or coke float. What is it that creates that lovely foam? Cream! How do I know that? Homemade floats at Einstein's. Half and half with coke. Ice milk can't offer the silky taste of ice cream.

One of my favorite rock groups in the 70's was Cream.

Cream and dream rhyme. That's no coincidence.

Our book group discussed A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian at our last meeting, not that tractors were the important part of the book. Basically this story about two sisters uniting to "help" their 84 year old father when he decides to marry a 30-something year old "floozie" who is looking for a husband so she can stay in the U.S. There are lots of themes- family relationships, immigrants, history, memories and perceptions, and, yes, even tractors.

I wondered how our discussion would go because our hostess's father, in the same age group as our "hero" was part of our discussion. According to his daughter, he, too, had a "floozie" in his life after his wife died. This was brought up, and I gladly noticed that M did not equate himself with the father in the book, as he shared some of his life, and his writing with us.

The book was a delight to read and discuss in this environment. It was our third "immigrant book," I think, dealing with atrocities in the characters' homelands, but this one was dealt with through humor-- a relief for us all.

All is Quiet

Wendy, Michael's daughter, and her labradoodles, Diamond and Nutmeg, left early Saturday morning and things are exceptionally quiet here now. It was nonstop running around here for over a week. Feeding time was a challenge, because of the dogs' individual needs. Diamond needs a different food, yet she's the one who will eat anything. Caprice and Canon like to nibble from time to time, but couldn't, because their food would be snarfed up by Diamond and Nutmeg.

Caprice, of course, is happy with the lack of activity, however, Canon got up this morning looking for his buddy, Diamond, and sat out on the grass waiting for her to join him. With Diamond here, he had nonstop playing all day long, rather than the morning and evening audiences Caprice gives him. Actually, I think Caprice was thrilled to deal with dogs that gave regard to her growls to stay of the bed or to leave her toys alone, since Canon never does. Nutmeg would balk at entering our bedroom with Caprice on her throne. Diamond was a bit braver.

Things are quieter, and admittedly easier. But I miss them.

Thanks

Of course, the list of things I'm thankful for, not necessarily in order of importance.

-Michael

-My family- That's the newest member on the left- Maxwell, my nephew Philip's and niece Crystal's new baby.

-My dogs

-All I have materially

-Friends

-The Internet- strange, but it's a source of communication and information, as well as the source of some friendships with people I like and respect

-Did I say my dogs?

-Health to to things and exist comfortably

-Being here in this place and this time

-My ability to think- however feeble that may be at times

-The ability to read and comprehend and form opinions

-Having a day to remind myself to be thankful!

Blank?

Damn! I had such a good idea of what to write about this morning-- something I was eager to develop. It's gone now!

Real Men Drink Tea on Their Birthdays

Michael's birthday this year just so happened to be the same day as the gluten-free tea at the St. James Tearoom, so guess where his birthday "dinner" was! We were lucky to have his daughter, Wendy with us, too. It wasn't the regular birthday dinner--sitting on a Victorian-style couch, sipping tea, eating little finger foods and talking with the ladies, but he was charming to all, and, I think enjoyed himself. Happy birthday, Michael.

The menu, just in case I want to remember:

Savories
served with English Breakfast Traditional Black Tea
King Edward's Smoked Turkey Salad
Queen Elizabeth's Asparagus Morsel
Queen Victoria's Fig and Brie
King Richard's Cranberry Refresher
Traditional Tea Sandwich:
Date Cream Cheese & Cucumber

Scones & Bread
served with Pumpkin Pie Scented Black Tea
Anne Boleyn's Fat Rascal with Cherry Preserves
St. James Traditional Cream Scone
with Lemon Curd and Clotted Cream

Sweets
served with Hesperides Golden Delight Scented Green Tea
Prince Phillip's Pumpkin Chai Pot de Crème
King George's Raspberry Chocolate Tart
Queen Margaret's Maple Walnut Crescent

Yum!!!!!

Cleaning Up

The washing machine is running and I'm crying. Doesn't go together, does it? (I think I mentioned crying in my last post. A trend?)

This is a special load. I am washing the sweats that I wore when, sitting on the floor of the vet's examination room, I held Rondo for the last time.

They've been sitting in a corner of my closet since March. Something couldn't let me wash away that living trace of him. I couldn't see it. I couldn't smell it, but he was there, and I remember that time. I have the box with his collar, his paw print, a piece of his fur, but there was a closer connection with this.

Maybe I'm moving on. I miss my sweet, brown boy. I'll always remember our short time together, but it's time to wear the clothes while I'm playing with Caprice and Canon, to have some good times. To keep the bittersweet memories and to make new ones.

Coffee Time

Debbie, Julie, Carol, Janie, Laura

For the past 4 or 5 years I've looked forward to my weekly visits to Starbucks (during the school year) to meet with some of my teacher friends. It started when I was still teaching at Humphrey, with Julie, Carol, and Debbie. The group's composition changes because of schedules and new invitations. Julie had to stop coming when she moved to North Star, as a result of its earlier schedule. My sister-in-law Shari joined us from time to time. This year Delora has joined us. Others as their schedules permit, or if they happen to run into us there. Coffee time has continued through my first retirement, my two years at North Star, and right into my second retirement.

I remember our first coffee when I started retirement (#1). I cried when Carol and Janie left to go to school because I felt so lonely. When I went back to work, I arranged my schedule so I could still meet for coffee on my workday. Now I can sleep later, but meeting the girls for coffee time is more important. I don't mind getting up to see these friendly faces. To tell the truth, I don't even like coffee that much, but I do like seeing my friends in the morning.

Today's coffee was "special." Julie has just gone on medical leave to have surgery for breast cancer. She's scared. We're scared. But today reminded us how strong our bond is. We will all be together again.

Not thinkin' much...

Poodle-Centric Saturday

Canon had a big day and at this moment is sleeping soundly.

First we had puppy class. I was dreading class, as we hadn't practiced. I practically have to wrestle him into a down, and we hadn't practiced recall on a long lead. The worry was unwarranted. We didn't do the down and recall in class today. Canon did, however, do something unexpected. He threw up. I don't know whether it was the exercise- hearing a loud noise and examining the object, or just that he wasn't feeling well. All I know is when I looked behind me there was a pile or undigested dog food. Oh, well, there are worse things to clean up.

His day wasn't over. The Enchanted Poodle Club held its meeting at Bow Bow Blues, a dog store with a nice fenced in area. At least 14 poodles, mostly standards ran loose and played the whole time, without incident. It was a joy to watch! Canon and Roxy, who should have been tired from class, didn't let up for a moment. They played with big dogs. They played with each other. I got to meet some wonderful poodles, who were more interested in my attention that my own dog.

Canon met a girl! Minnie is a silver pup, about a month younger than Canon and Roxy, who will be 5 months in another week. The three pups seemed to enjoy each others' company. Minnie is a marvel, the way she jumps in the air and enjoys herself, holding her own with the big dogs.

I've always wanted a poodle ranch, where dozens of poodles play. This is the closest I've gotten to it!

We ambled and dawdled...

...instead of dashed at today's Doggie Dash and Dawdle sponsored by NMAHA. It was Canon's first big social event and I was very proud of both Canon and Caprice who seemed to enjoy their outing, but maintained very respectable behavior for the most part. Their favorite part seemed to be meeting other poodles near the Enchanted Poodle Club's booth.

They turned especially joyful when they met their friends Jasper and Roxy (Canon's sister). It was obvious the four dogs knew each other by the tail wagging, jumping, and rolling around andplaying done by Canon and Roxy (and I got a nice kiss from Jasper).

In the end, we passed on the official 2 mile walk. By the time it came around, our two pups had strolled and done much visiting, so we took a very limited dawdle up the road and back.

Canon was much admired and both were repeatedly praised for their looks and good behavior. On the way out the visited with Louie Lobo, which Canon took in his easy going way and which Caprice was not thrilled with. It was an encouraging day. My dogs are great, and I'm not the only one who thinks so!

Balance

I just finished making dinner- pasta with butternut squash, onion, garlic, a little Parmesan cheese, toasted pinon nuts, and salt and pepper. I was tempted to add some red pepper and some goat cheese to make it creamy, but decided enough was enough. The flavors were already balanced. While I was eating I chose this as my inspiration for my writing tonight, but I'm really not talking about my cooking.

Balance was always been a guiding force in my teaching. Balance in the types of activities- sitting and active, speaking, writing, reading, listening. I chose to include each of Gardner's multiple intelligences- artistic, movement, verbal, mathematical...

So, the meal made me wonder if there is balance in my life. Maybe it's not there. I spend so much of my time at my computer. Free choice reading is usually mysteries with female detectives. So much of my time is spent with my dogs, caring for my dogs, talking about my dogs.

Is there any balance? When I "create" a dish rather than follow a recipe, I think of a balance of tastes and ingredients. Visually, I think I look for balance in shape, color and weight, which may be why I have so much trouble hanging pictures in my house. Do Michael and I balance each other-- he, the talker, me the listener? Caprice and Canon, black and white.

I'm now on a balance hunt. What is balanced? Where can I add balance? And ultimately-- how important is that balance?

Give me my daylight!

This is very simple. I like my daylight. I like the sun. The end of daylight savings time messes with my life. The dogs get up an hour earlier and want to be fed at 4. Michael, too!) I twiddle my thumbs figuring out what to do when it turns dark. No good TV yet. Too early for me to sit and read. I can't run out in the dark and pick up the day's dog poop. I should have planned for earlier. I don't want to go anywhere.

Be prepared for six months of whining...

Flags

This is a video of the Tibetan prayer flags at the Bone Cancer Dogs Angel Ceremony. There's no action, nothing amusing or terrifically interesting, but meaningful to me or someone who was there. Rondo's name is somewhere after 2 minutes.

Halloween with the Old Farts- apologies to my friends

We've spent the last few Halloweens with our friends, Becky (devil) and John (green hat). We don't do a lot of crazy stuff, but celebrate a tradition of half-assed costumes and an activity.

I dress minimally (costume-wise, not amount of clothing). Michael always suprises me with something clever, but simple. This year he clipped a yellow flashing light on his fly and called himself a flasher. Becky, probably enjoys the costumes the most. My favorite is her granny on the back costume, which this year, she said, had a hole in it.

Our first year of celebration we went to a Haunted House, standing in line forever to get in. One year we carved pumpkins. This year we dressed up and went to see Dracula, The Musical, a campy melodrama where we could hiss and boo and cheer.

We rarely stay up late. We don't get into trouble, and don't even trick or treat, but it's nice to have a comfortable, easy tradition to share with friends--even if we're home and in bed by 10.

Snow, snow, go away/Mini Memory

I am not a fan of snow. I don't ski; I don't like to slide around; I don't like the grey skies, and I especially don't like to be cold. It looks nice. The beauty of a day where the sun shines on clean, sparkling snow is unique. Fresh snow tastes good. It was even fascinating today to watch the big flakes floating down. But snow is a symbol for winter and I just don't like winter. It speaks to me of hibernation and death, things slowing down and stopping, COLD. Let someone else praise the snow. I'll think tropical.

Snow reminds me of December 2006. My mother died right before Christmas. While we were going through this, the Fed-Ex delivery man slipped on my front walk, which I had been unable to clear entirely. The fear of a lawsuit was, of course, in my mind, especially since the man's wife came to our door while I was away, hoping my insurance company would help, since Carlos couldn't work and workman's comp was minimal. Michael talked me into taking the food left at my mother's house to the family. Because of timing and workman's comp issues, Carlos had to wait a week before surgery and the casting of his leg. This was not going to be a good Christmas for his family. I'm so glad we went to meet these very nice people. Everyone is not litigious. People can even be kind to each other in trying circumstances.

I still hate snow.

Big Dog Parents

One of the many things I came home from the BCD Reunion with is an extra-special place in my heart for big dog owners. The commitment it takes to handle a pair of tall, heavy dogs is more than one might think- feeding them, making them comfortable, exercising them. Add special needs, and it is amazing the work these people put in.

There were two pairs of extra large dogs at the reunion. One was Molly and Dozer, the Great Danes cared for by Cindy and Will. Dozer is a tripawd, seen here resting his backside on Cindy's lap at the U of Wisconsin Veterinary School. I watched Cindy and Will blow up an air mattress for their dogs to rest on, wipe drools, get them in and out of the car, feed them with homemade food they carted from home, exercise them, and most of all, love them. I can't think of any more of an inspiration than these people. How could Dozer not be my hero when I see this giant of a dog making his way on three legs. Gentle giant has true meaning here.

Karen and Adrian, from Colorado, brought their mastiffs, Theo and Olivia, again, friendly, gentle dogs. It amazes me that these people commit to these large breeds, who have an increased probability of developing bone cancer. Karen's and Adrian's Albion, indeed, succumbed to the disease. I believe Theo and Olivia are cancer free right now.

I have always been committed to my dogs, but these people really show committment and love. I have the ultimate respect for them for this.

Flags, Wine and Helium

They don't go together. Not really, but they do signify the end of this reunion for me.

Every year the reunion honors the dogs that have passed in the preceeding year, but this year all 600+ that were part of the group since its beginnings five years ago, those gone as well as the survivors were honored by having their names posted on Tibetan prayer flags and having their names read. Each person read the names listed on the flag he or she held. That one little name, Rondo, was so difficult to read without tears, which then continued for the other dogs on my list. The flags were strung together and mounted on two poles, so we could look at them all. This was our second visual reminder of the number of dogs who have gone through this group. The names were also posted on a banner that hung in our meeting room.

The end of the Bone Cancer Dogs reunion. Did I end it with tears? With sneaking out so I didn't have to say goodbyes? I had to end a serious day with the sillies to restore balance. Nothing profound. Nothing I'm proud of, but different than I've played the rest of this weekend. Finished the bottle of wine (there was only a little) and sucked in a little helium for entertainment.

Of Meetings and Tears

It's late, and I don't know how to describe my feelings about my time in Madison so far. It seemed odd meeting people I knew only through the Internet, but somehow, it's fairly easy. Some have turned out how I envisioned them, others not, but it's an interesting experience. There are dogs here as well as people- mastiffs, sheepdogs, great danes, and more. Much of of conversation centers around dogs, but that's OK. Starting points are always OK. It was hard for me to see the tripawds, because it reminded me of Rondo's struggle. I envy these creatures, who are especially beautiful to me, because I know wha love and commitment they "stand" on. I felt my eyes getting moist every time I looked at one.

This morning we toured the University of Wisconsin's Veterinary Teaching Hospital. The University is amazing to me, because it's obvious how much the place is spread out. I almost feel like a hick, someone used to a vet's office with four examination rooms, and then seeing these facilities. Dr. Ruthanne Chun talked to us about bone cancer and its treatment. I wondered why records aren't kept about the incidence of OS in breeds, and geographically. I still wonder about environmental causes, but this wasn't mentioned at all. I toy with the idea of attempting to gather that information, although I don't have a clue of how to start, or if that's in my reach. On the other hand, researchers focus on finding out how cancer works, and how to slow it down, or kill it. Is my interest more of a curiosity? If environmental causes were discovered, could/would we do anything about them?

Notable to me (and probably all of us) this evening was the tribute/memorial to the dogs of the attendees. I wept when there was nothing to weep at during the photos of the previous four Bone Cancer Dogs reunions. Then I found myself looking for Rondo's photos. It had been a long time since I sent them, and I didn't remember all of them. I wish I had taken more! Photos of Rondo having fun, rather than posing for me. Photos of Rondo and Caprice playing. Photos of Rondo biting my hair, or laying on top of one of us on the bed. All those moments missed.

Canon and Caprice are helping me move past my grief, I thought, but it's certainly all here tonight. An e-mail from Karen tells of a poodle being strangled after her collar caught on the tooth of her playmate. My tears haven't stopped for a half hour, and I'm pretty sure it's not all because of the death of a poodle I never knew. I grieved for a long time for my father. This seems harder. More reminders?

Why am I in the airport, heading for Madison?

I'm sitting in the Denver airport right now, waiting for my plane to Madison, WI, for the Bone Cancer Dogs reunion. This trip started out the same as usual, getting things together and packing the day before, ironing clothes at the last minute, up relatively late with little sleep. Out of bed at 4:30 and driving to the airport, I didn't have the time or wit to think about where I'm going.

Not until we were approaching Denver did I think about all of this. My initial reaction, upon seeing snow on the ground over the mountains as we made our approach over the mountains, was that I forgot the appropriate shoes for walking around and in inclement weather. Oh well, my walking shoes, while not attractive, will do. Then I got around to the real stuff. Susan W. was on my plane. That reminded me that she knows Louanne, who bought a painting from her. Louanne is the veterinarian's tech. She helped take care of Rondo and was there when he died. Now the tears are forming in my eyes. That's one of the reasons I'm on my way to Madison-- to pay tribute to my boy, and meet the people who supported me during and after the battle. How's that for a connection? Does that mean anything?

I am questioning myself. I decided to do this way back in May, when I was still raw from Rondo's death. I do want to meet everyone, but now I'm wondering if I'm extending my grief by making this trip. Suddenly the feeling of commitment to the Bone Cancer Dogs group is waivering. Should I move on--enjoying Caprice and Canon and leaving the tears behind? I don't know the answer to that question yet. I have to wait, but I also have to be in this moment, this reunion. Maybe the answers are here.

Canon Goes to School

Canon attended his first session of puppy kindergarten today- 3 standard poodles, 3 German shepherds, 3 king cavalier spaniels and two Australian shepherds. Guess who, in my opinion, was the most difficult kid in class? Mr. Canon, so interested in the other dogs and people, had absolutely no interest in the treats I had brought to bribe him into obedience. Suddenly sit had no meaning. Forget following the treat from his nose to my face. Not interested!

The instructor, Evi Fox, thinks that I have a stubborn one, one who needs a strong leader. We're moving straight to the prong collar tomorrow. I'm glad I didn't wait until he was older to start puppy class. We need to get to work!

Evi is not a fan of walking your dog out in public where there are other dogs, sometimes uncontrolled. She pointed out to Nancy and me that white dogs are a predator's delight, easy to see and look like sheep. She pointed out to the small dog owners that little dogs look like toys to big dogs. Not going to change my mind, but something to remember...

The good news is that Canon showed his good nature and social skills, and got along with everyone. He did well on the ride to and from in the back seat with his sister, Roxy. We'll work on the rest.

The Sunny Side

Caprice and I just returned from our walk through the park. It's a beautiful New Mexican autumn day- a slight tinge of cool with the warmth, sun shining, blue, clear sky. The grass was a crisp green; the trees, still with leaves, had that same crispness. I took my sunglasses off. The grass was now a faded green; the trees were faded as well. My glasses didn't need to be rose colored to view my surroundings in a positive light. The very point that I needed sunglasses meant that the sun was shining and the world was well. Take one analogy as needed.

Speaking of Conflict...

The interrelatedness of everything we see, think, do! This shouldn't be a surprise-we're constantly making connections.

This afternoon, in the nick of time, I finished The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao for our book group discussion tonight. (Yes, once in awhile I take a break from poodles, computer, TV, and coffee, to read, and sometimes I even read something intellectual. Oscar is the story of a young man searching for love- not unusual, but make that an obese young man who has never had sex. How could that be intellectual? you say. Make the hero a Dominican man whose family has a fuku, or curse placed upon it. Make it partially take place in the Dominican Republic during the reign of terror during the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo.

I didn't love the book, which won a Pulitzer prize, but I did learn about this period in the history of this little island nation. I was horrified by the violent scenes, which my guess is, were not just fiction. I felt no attachment to the hero, or actually to anyone in the book. It made me wonder, and think. Conflict. The corruption of power, and perhaps macho.

Now back to another mystery book.

Conflict

Two posts today, and the more I think about it, I can relate them easily. With the dogs this morning, we saw "play" conflict, for the most part. Later on, we saw the real thing-- for no good reason.

After poodle play time today, Michael and I went for a ritual Starbucks visit, as we do many Sundays. As we walked around the little strip mall, we heard shouting. Apparently a passerby told a man who stopped along the fire lane that he wasn't supposed to be there. This resulted in a lot of yelling by the driver, punctuated with a lot of f****** this and that. He actually got out of the car and continued to yell obscenities and insults at the passerby.

This fit right in with a conversation we had about following the rules. We often break little rules- because they're inconvenient, or we think they're silly, or we think we're above them. When the driver was reminded he was breaking the rules, he went ballistic. Aren't rules supposed to help us avoid conflict or problems? Why are some people insulted when reminded that they're not following the rules?

Michael sometimes talks about the "outlaw" or "lawless" mentality that sometimes occurs in this part of the country. Is it only here? Is it a male thing? A societal thing? Is it the end of civility. I often wonder how human behavior evolves. Or has it always been this way?

If It's Sunday, There Must be Poodles

One of my greatest doggie joys is watching my dogs play and enjoy themselves. They do that best on Sunday mornings when my friend Nancy (we met because we both adopted our white pups from the same litter) brings her poodles Jasper and Roxy to play. They all mix it up some, but it's appears to us that the big poodles prefer playing with each other and the pups prefer each other. There's running, jumping, squealing, and wrestling among the preferred activities.

Canon and Jasper have a little thing going-- Canon teases, Jasper retaliates, and then we have a yelping pup--but it doesn't last long. Today I especially enjoyed watching Caprice leap in the air when playing with Jasper, and her standing quietly, stalking him before she attacked.

Yes, I love watching my dogs anytime. Since they're my "babies," I watch them sleep, eat, and play, and I'm filled with warm thoughts and happiness. The poodle free-for-all, though, is my favorite.

Just to Keep Track

Michelle with Canon at 5 wk. and Michelle with Canon at 15 wk. Both have changed!

Ms. Hyde

It surprised me when I realized what was happening. Then I found myself thinking about it. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down my face while I looked at a cute dog blog. Depression? Moodiness? At a loss? I don't know what to call it. I just know it doesn't feel good. I can still shower my dogs with love, but I don't love anything else. People disappoint me. I don't know what I'm expecting, but I know it's not there. I want to be with people (sort of), but I can't handle their personalities. Are they self-centered and selfish, or is it really me? I don't know which came first.

Quick Post

Oh, if I only had the energy and wit to post today!

Today would have been my mother's 86th birthday...

War and Peace

Not All Happy Endings

Ellen was someone I didn't see often growing up, but our families were friends, and so we were, too. We entertained each other at my grandparents' house at Passover, and at family visits. After we grew up, we ran into each other once in awhile. Since we were both teachers, we always had something to talk about. One of those onces was at a party where I introduced her to an ex-boyfriend of mine (not one that I minded being an ex). The next thing I knew they were getting married. Not a good idea, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. The short marriage brought Ellen what she wanted most-- a child. Her husband, not at all child oriented, agreed to adopting a child. When the marriage ended, Ellen still had what was important to her, her son. I heard stories about the son from time to time. He was wild. Ellen's mother, who they lived with for a time, was afraid of him. And then I didn't hear anything about Ellen for a couple of years.

Last spring, Ellen disappeared. She didn't come to school. Her dogs were left alone. Her car was found in another apartment complex. Her son was a suspect in her disappearance, but he had an alibi. He was in jail. Last Friday Ellen was found- buried in the Jemez mountains, murdered by her son's wife and friends because she had turned her son in for stealing from her.

Not a close friend, but her life touched mine. It's violence too close. Tragic. Creepy.

Do I offer my condolences to people I've not had contact with for 20 years? Do I keep her memory to myself?

Godspeed, Ellen. Goodbye.

Repository of Memories

I feel so much joy when I look at my two poodles playing together, sleeping, sitting near me, but tonight I have tears streaming down my face. Several dogs in the Yahoo Bone Cancer Dogs group have died, and their people have posted lists of what they remember the most about their pups. This took me back to my 10 things I remembered and loved about Rondo. I added to it, but some of those memories are gone now, and perhaps I feel like I've short changed my boy. That's part of the reason I'm blogging- to preserve thoughts and memories. For whom, I don't know, since I certainly don't have (or want) wide readership. As far as I know, Julie is my only reader, and that's fine. So every time I think I have nothing to say, I want to remember, that this is a place for memories.

One of Today's Memories:

When I'm in the office, Canon often sleeps under or beside my desk. He was sleeping there when I went across the street to check the mail. As I was heading for the front gate, I heard an unbelievable amount of squealing/crying coming inside from Canon. I ran back to the office. Canon, who had been sleeping along the front of the desk, had become wedged in the opening. Where he used to be small enough to slip through the opening, he's now big enough to be a tight fit. I would guess it scared him, as his cries scared me. It was fairly easy to slip him out, and now all is well in his world.

Deep and Shallow

I really only follow one blog- that of a family I know where the father is preparing for a bone marrow/stem cell transplant. They have very kindly chosen to share the experience with friends and well-wishers. What can I write that won't seem frivolous next to that?

I am looking at two weeks as the only human in my household. This is both a refreshing breather and a time facing an empty space here. Right now the pups are sleeping, so this is truly a breather. I love them dearly, but it's a relief to not be worrying about peeing, carpets, food, exercise, sore legs, attention, and the rest of the gamut for awhile. Sleep is refreshing- not only when one is the sleeper, but also when others are. does that make me the sleepee?

Weathered Thoughts

Summer disappeared today. Since I live in New Mexico, I know that we probably still have a month of warm weather left after we get past that rainy stuff. As Michael says, "It's State Fair time. Of course it's raining."

When I was working, I always wanted to see the Weather Channel in the morning so I'd know how to dress. Some days now, it's surprises, and it doesn't matter what I wear.

The rain and wet lawn don't bother Canon at all. I don't even think he feels the rain through his fuzzy puppy coat. His only problem was when Caprice was chasing him. Several times his wet paws took him sliding down the cement outside and tile inside. Caprice doesn't care for wet, but the cooler weather made her more energetic and interested in chasing Canon. How did he escape? More wet. He jumped into the middle of the small kiddie pool. No way Caprice would come there, and he already knows it.

If it's September, it must be time for...

Green Chile!

One of the things that makes me feel especially New Mexican is picking up my roasted green chile from Farmers Market, bagging it, and stuffing the freezer. A year ago I bought a freezer to put in the garage, and at the moment, the main contents are the baggies full of the 70lb of roasted chiles we picked up today. We peeled and tasted a few, still warm from roasting. Definitely the way to have your green vegetables! The temptation was there to have a green chile and mayonnaise sandwich, as I used to as a kid. The house smelled of their crisp, smokey scent all day as the bags of chile laid all over the kitchen counter cooling and awaiting their trip to the freezer. I felt accomplished as I stowed the last bags away.

What was for dinner tonight? Green chile cheese veggie burgers, with the new chiles, topped with guacomole, made with the new chiles. I'd been hoarding our last bag of chile from last year's crop- wouldn't let Michael use it, in case I wanted to make chile rellenos (gluten-free, of course!). Now they're in the fridge, up for grabs.

Bargain Box

Today was one of the days I volunteered for the Assistance League at their Thrift Store. I enjoy working there- getting to talk to people who are thrilled with their bargains, some who have unique plans for their treasures, some who are doing their best to make ends meet, some who come for the thrill of getting good deals.

Today was a little different because it was Tuesday. On Mondays the store is closed so that the committee can do heavy stocking and make new displays. Regular shoppers know that Tuesday is the day to find new stuff, and the store is definitely busy. Since it's the end of the summer season there were lots of bargains. Today there wasn't time to admire customers' purchases and chat. There was a lot of time at the cash register, ringing up and folding clothes, packing them into recycled grocery bags, and picking up the clothes and hangers shoppers had left around the store. The sales were certainly more impressive-- over four times what we take in on my usual Saturday shift, but there was no time to be a person and enjoy people. Now is that a metaphor for life?

Plants for Poodle?

Plant zero. Poodle one.
Is it a federal offense to destroy a poodle nest?

Givers and Takers

Several years ago I attending a week long personal development "camp." The group had been there a day, when we had to go around a circle and label each participant as either a "giver" or a "taker." I don't know who put the bad connotation on "taker," us or the seminar presenter, but it was certainly there. It was quite uncomfortable to label people based on an overall impression. In some cases, this determined relationships for the rest of the week.

I don't know if we see ourselves accurately as givers or takers. It's like the self-centered person not realizing he's self centered. We need to learn to give AND take, appropriately and graciously. Imposing one's own wants when one gives (i.e., "You should have this...), is not a gift! One who says, "I give and give, and get nothing back," is not really giving.

I've been thinking a lot about balance- in nature, in life, in what we do. This is part of it.

Wondering...

Why is it that self-centered people never realize that they're self-centered? Does that mean I'm self-centered? Is wondering about being self-centered self-centered? When we think about ourselves, how we appear to others, is that self-centered?

Sweet Sunday

Even though I'm no longer working, Sunday is a sweet day-- at least this one was. This is merely a catalog of what I did today, but a reminder of the joy of relaxation and simple pleasures.

Canon's sister, Roxy came to visit, so there was rough stuff--in miniature. Roxy was in unfamiliar surroundings at first, so Canon became the aggressor, but not for long. Once adjusted, things looked a lot like they did at home in Utah-- Canon on the bottom, tough girl on top. Puppy watching is a nice way to start the day.

Lunch was at El Pinto with Harriet and Steven, who were revisiting Albuquerque. I haven't seen Harriet for 11 years, since they moved away. This was another Facebook success. I found Harriet's daughter on FB and was able to connect to Harriet. We saw a couple of other people we knew at El Pinto. There's something satisfying about running into people you know at unexpected places.

Napping on the floor with Canon. Tres uncomfortable, but nice at the same time.

Who needs a life cycle?

My first grand-nephew was born Thursday night! How wonderful and how strange that my young nephew Philip now has a son. It of course reminds me of the Circle of Life, and I have to admit, I hate the idea. Puppies and babies are fine, but as I find myself at the other end (and end is exactly what I mean) of that circle, it doesn't make me happy in any way.

Losing my parents in 2001 and 2006 was, of course, hard. What seems to be hard for me now is knowing that I am the oldest in my immediate family-- next in line, so to speak. No wonder I'm afraid to go to a doctor. Michael went for a check-up recently and had a glimpse of his mortality. I am more than aware of it. Knowing I need to make arrangements for my demise-- will, plans for the dogs, and the unspeakable, death wishes.I'm sorry. I can't speak of the beauty of the life cycle.

It scares me shitless!

One Track Mind

I honestly don't want this to be an all dog blog, but my life is so full of dog right now!

There's what to feed them: Raw chicken bones great for the teeth, but it worries me, Caprice's adjustment to raw, especially. Kibble- Caprice is eating Canon's and none of her own, and Canon is more interested in Caprice's ID with chicken soup. I finally gave up and let each eat whatever. There may be hell to pay for that.

There's how they play-- or not: Canon chasing the ball. Zoomies. Barking.

Dog poop: It reminds me of the word scatomancy. I'm not telling fortunes, but do get a health report. Yes, I am crazy!

Sleeping arrangements: When is that crying going to stop?

And most of all there is love-- so much I could burst!