Sunday, June 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Miles to go...
Thinking puppies all day today...
Caprice has become such a wonderful partner and companion!
So many things to do and learn, but I'm moving slowly.
Caprice has become such a wonderful partner and companion!
So many things to do and learn, but I'm moving slowly.
- Research raw feeding more
- Learn how to personalize my blog
- Learn Photoshop, Dreamweaver, and everything else I haven't taken the time to learn
- Learn to use my new Bamboo
- Start my papercrafts
- Clean, clean, clean
- Work on training Caprice
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Right Time?
There are lots of things to write about. Perhaps the most important- 7 puppies born to Cloe and Myles today! Don't know if there's a puppy for me there yet. In the back of my mind I think there won't be a puppy as wonderful as Rondo. Does that mean it's not time yet?
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day
Father's Day. You know what that means- thinking about my father. It's been eight years now. I'm afraid I'm forgetting some about him. His voice isn't as clear in my head. The pictures aren't as clear.
What do I remember the most about my father? That he was generous. He liked to see us happy and have things. He loved his swimming pool. I think is kept him both busy and rested. He seemed to especially enjoy it when his friend Moe Haas came over. They chatted, gossiped, swam, and slept in the sun.
He shared my love for dogs (or I shared his). I remember him crying with me when I came over after having to put my Triska to sleep. From my mother I got sympathy. From my father I got really caring.
When I came over to visit on Sundays, he was often Llying on the couch watching golf. Perhaps he was munching on popcorn, his favorite snack. I remember the yellow popcorn bowl, either sitting on the coffee table near the couch or on the bar when he was done with it. He liked to share his popcorn with everyone, including the dog.
Another food I associate with my father is chocolate-- those big Hershey bars he kept in the bar. He could almost eat a whole one by himself. And chocolate ice cream. I don't remember him every getting anything but chocolate at Baskin-Robins. The farthest he strayed was maybe chocolate brownie.
Many of the memories are vague. Going to his store with him on weekends while he worked. Traveling with him to visit customers. His visits to my grandmother almost every day. He was a model for a good son, which I think rubbed off on my brother.
That doesn't bother me, bother me... There were things we did and that others did that bothered him, but he didn't make a big deal about anything in front of us.
One of my favorite memories is when I was in ninth grade and planned on meeting my "boyfriend" at the University. I and my friend Janice told our parents that we had to work on a geology project at the UNM library. Janice's parents took us and mine picked us up at the appointed time. It wasn't until we got home that my father confronted me with the fact that the library wasn't open on Saturday nights. Although I was grounded, I thought he was a class act, and, smarter than I was.
I'm sorry I didn't visit you today, dad, but know I miss you very much.
What do I remember the most about my father? That he was generous. He liked to see us happy and have things. He loved his swimming pool. I think is kept him both busy and rested. He seemed to especially enjoy it when his friend Moe Haas came over. They chatted, gossiped, swam, and slept in the sun.
He shared my love for dogs (or I shared his). I remember him crying with me when I came over after having to put my Triska to sleep. From my mother I got sympathy. From my father I got really caring.
When I came over to visit on Sundays, he was often Llying on the couch watching golf. Perhaps he was munching on popcorn, his favorite snack. I remember the yellow popcorn bowl, either sitting on the coffee table near the couch or on the bar when he was done with it. He liked to share his popcorn with everyone, including the dog.
Another food I associate with my father is chocolate-- those big Hershey bars he kept in the bar. He could almost eat a whole one by himself. And chocolate ice cream. I don't remember him every getting anything but chocolate at Baskin-Robins. The farthest he strayed was maybe chocolate brownie.
Many of the memories are vague. Going to his store with him on weekends while he worked. Traveling with him to visit customers. His visits to my grandmother almost every day. He was a model for a good son, which I think rubbed off on my brother.
That doesn't bother me, bother me... There were things we did and that others did that bothered him, but he didn't make a big deal about anything in front of us.
One of my favorite memories is when I was in ninth grade and planned on meeting my "boyfriend" at the University. I and my friend Janice told our parents that we had to work on a geology project at the UNM library. Janice's parents took us and mine picked us up at the appointed time. It wasn't until we got home that my father confronted me with the fact that the library wasn't open on Saturday nights. Although I was grounded, I thought he was a class act, and, smarter than I was.
I'm sorry I didn't visit you today, dad, but know I miss you very much.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
What is that Love?
What is that overflowing love that I feel when Caprice comes running to me? That happiness that a little black poodle follows me from room to room? That warmth I feel when I bend to pet and cuddle her? She's totally mine? She forgives all and seems happy with whatever I give her. I love her joyful dance when we ask, "Do you want to go for a walk?" I smile when she takes a mouthful of dog food and carries it over to a pillow to munch on.
I guess I'm just one of those people who lives for the love of a dog (or two), and I can't find anything wrong with that.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Dogs in My Life: My Childhood in Dogs
It's time to get to one of the important things in my life- my dogs. Gary Paulsen wrote My Life in Dog Years. I'm more concerned about the dogs in the years of my life. Small distinction, but an introduction, at any rate. These are my pre-poodle dogs, as I remember them, but the memories are fading...
Prince (Valiant), the collie, was the first dog that was actually ours. My father got Prince from one of his customers. I remember feeding Prince Hill's canned horse meat, but don't remember much else, other than long hair, and swinging on our swing set with Prince around. My brother, Richard was young then. They said Prince's tail could knock him over. I remember being told that my parents thought Prince would be better going to a place with lots of land and that he went. I don't remember problems or what my parents were thinking. I have no recall of strong feelings . Big dog, few memories. Was it my age?
Nosey was a daschund pup from my friend Holly's dog, Schatze's litter. He was a sweet, sweet boy that I remember carrying around in a doll blanket. Nosey died young- run over. I do remember tears. I still have a fondness for daschunds, but have not considered another.
Dreidel, a mixed variety dog, from my uncle's dog, Marshmallow, was with us a very short time.
Another sweetie that didn't get a chance to grow up. I remember dropping her?/him? once. Soon after the pup began having tremors, which turned out to be a chorea, caused by distemper. I blamed myself for dropping the dog.
One more sweetheart, a boxer, Little Joe, named after Joe Cartwright from one of our favorite TV shows, Bonanza. A tough little boy, Joe had a talent for getting out of our backyard. He probably caused some other problems, too, because my mother didn't like him. I remember walking home from school when I was in fourth or fifth grade and seeing the dogcatcher about a block from house. I ran home, grabbed Joe, and locked myself in the bathroom. Yes, my mother had called (although she said technically she didn't- she had the maid call). I held my little boy in the bathroom and sang, "You are my Sunshine" to him until we were safe. I bore the scars from his little teeth and claws on my hands for years and years to remind me of that day of worrying about a pup and losing trust in my mother. Joe did eventually disappear. I can't remember if he was run over, too, or if my mother finally got her way.
Prince (Valiant), the collie, was the first dog that was actually ours. My father got Prince from one of his customers. I remember feeding Prince Hill's canned horse meat, but don't remember much else, other than long hair, and swinging on our swing set with Prince around. My brother, Richard was young then. They said Prince's tail could knock him over. I remember being told that my parents thought Prince would be better going to a place with lots of land and that he went. I don't remember problems or what my parents were thinking. I have no recall of strong feelings . Big dog, few memories. Was it my age?
Nosey was a daschund pup from my friend Holly's dog, Schatze's litter. He was a sweet, sweet boy that I remember carrying around in a doll blanket. Nosey died young- run over. I do remember tears. I still have a fondness for daschunds, but have not considered another.
Dreidel, a mixed variety dog, from my uncle's dog, Marshmallow, was with us a very short time.
Another sweetie that didn't get a chance to grow up. I remember dropping her?/him? once. Soon after the pup began having tremors, which turned out to be a chorea, caused by distemper. I blamed myself for dropping the dog.
One more sweetheart, a boxer, Little Joe, named after Joe Cartwright from one of our favorite TV shows, Bonanza. A tough little boy, Joe had a talent for getting out of our backyard. He probably caused some other problems, too, because my mother didn't like him. I remember walking home from school when I was in fourth or fifth grade and seeing the dogcatcher about a block from house. I ran home, grabbed Joe, and locked myself in the bathroom. Yes, my mother had called (although she said technically she didn't- she had the maid call). I held my little boy in the bathroom and sang, "You are my Sunshine" to him until we were safe. I bore the scars from his little teeth and claws on my hands for years and years to remind me of that day of worrying about a pup and losing trust in my mother. Joe did eventually disappear. I can't remember if he was run over, too, or if my mother finally got her way.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
What is the What
I finished reading What is the What last night. I'm surprised that something based on reality could capture my interest. Over 400 pages describing the trek of one the Lost Boys from Sudan through Ethiopia to Kenya, and finally to the US, and I still can hardly believe these things happen to people. I tend to kiss off the troubles of others in other places. (Strange for a bleeding heart!)
I didn't love some of the literary devices Eggers used, such as Valentino "talking" to people in his present life to tell his history, but found the book easy to read and involving.
Now that my book club book is out of the way, it's mysteries for me!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Wondering...
- Why I can think of so many things to write about when I'm not at the computer, but I can't when I'm sitting here
- When I'm going to build the courage to leave Caprice and go on a trip
- What happened to my verbal abilities
- If we're going to have a puppy
- When I'm going to learn to make the blog my own
Sunday, June 14, 2009
My First Posting
I want the discipline of writing daily, even if the writing is not disciplined. I want to write about...
- Dogs, especially poodles, especially my poodles
- Looking back at teaching now that I'm retired
- Reminiscences (is that a word?)
- Thoughts
Today is a special day--my little Rondo's third birthday. He's no longer here. Bone cancer took him in March after a seven month battle. So short of a time together. So much love for a long time...
Top Eleven Things I Remember (and Loved) About Rondo 
11- His soft, brown, barely curly, sometimes Rasta-ish hair
10- His tail always wagging
9- Falling down when he lifted his only rear leg to pee
8- His muddy nose when he was digging in the backyard
7- Picking him up in Ft. Sumner and holding him all the way home, wondering whether he was really a poodle
6- His little pink cast when he was a puppy
5- Running out to bark first thing in the morning
4- Plunking himself on top of us in bed and being perfectly content no matter how uncomfortable we were
3- Checking on me in the bathroom (and everywhere else)
2- Getting excited about his babble ball and chasing it all over
1- He loved me!
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