My M.S. Memory

I meant to write this on May 9, but I never got around to it.  I was sorry to read that Maurice Wild Thing Sendak died the day before, since he was a part of my teaching career.  I rarely cry when a celebrity passes, and didn't at this news either.  The tears came when I saw this cartoon in the newspaper the next morning. 

One of my M.S. memories was having a group of gifted students (4th grade, I think) act out Where the Wild Things Are and create accompanying "music" with rhythm instruments.  The image I remember was of Hannah Kunkle (could have been a different Kunkle- that I remember at all is amazing) wearing a fur coat and fedora-type hat and stomping around.  I had a picture of that for many years, but cleaned out my pictures recently.  Drat!

Chicken Soup with Rice used to be popular with kindergarten teachers.

Maurice once, Maurice twice

Reminds me of chicken soup with rice.

May

In May I think it truly best

to be a robin lightly dressed

concocting soup inside my nest

Mix it once, mix it twice,

mix that Chicken soup with rice.

March 2012 AKC - Canon Sunday

Stoked by the success of the ASCA runs, we also ran at the SDOC (Sandia Dog Obedience Club) agility trials March 16-18.  Sunday, the 18th was incredibly windy and dusty, but we qualified in this jumpers' run for our novice title.  However,  it makes a good excuse for this silly run in standard which follows!

Note:  This post was begun on March 13.  Instead of being a perfectionist and waiting till I get it right, I'm publishing today.

Canon wishes Caprice a happy birthday

Today is Caprice's sixth birthday, and I'm very glad to have her here and well after a couple of frightening brushes of her Addison's disease, skin and digestive problems.  She is my beautiful girl- a little skittish, not much of a player, and sometimes aloof, but mine.

I remember when I flew to Las Vegas to pick her up.  I cried when I saw her.  I had been missing a poodle so much since my Persi had to leave, and I was ready for a puppy to love. I remember her toe nails painted pink, and how small she was. 

Caprice grew up to be a beautiful girl.  We called her my Las Vegas showgirl.  She was also my wild girl, leaping over the couch, all over the place.

A couple months with Caprice's energy, and we decided she needed someone besides us to play with, a brother poodle, Rondo.  That's another story, but part of her story as well.

I'm saving the Addison's disease story for another day, so I can get this published...and have something else to write about...

We ran!

Note:  This post was started on March 11, 2012, but never finished.  I decided to put a little more into it and publish.

Approximately a year and a half ago (maybe closer to two?) Canon and I started agility lessons along with his sister Roxy and her "mom" Nancy. It was hard for us. The sport requires good body sense and spatial skills, visual memory, problem solving, as well as a bit of athleticism from the human. The dog needs to pay attention to his human, understand body language, and focus. I don't know if I have any of those qualities, and Canon is working on them.

Roxy, and our other classmates, Will and Grace, were doing great. A year ago Will and Grace were ready to compete. Roxy was ready. We were not. Last summer Canon and I were improving, but weren't there yet. I committed to agility trials in September. Then I broke my elbow at the end of August. No agility practice for four months. It was almost a relief, but a disappointment, as well.
Something happened during our "vacation."  I got a bit better at reading courses and Canon got a lot better about following me, so I thought it was time.  It was!  On March 10th and 11th, we entered the ASCA (Australian Shepherd Cub of America) agility trials.  We weren't perfect, but did well enough to earn a Novice Jumper's title, as well as qualifying in two standard runs.  Eight runs, four first places.  I love novice.  We had no competition in our 24 inch height class, and it was easy.  We only had to contend with a few missteps from me and a bit of craziness from Canon (related to my missteps.)  We even had a visitor in the ring, an escaped putty,  and had to run again. 

A lot of sitting, those two days, but a lot of satisfaction as well.

Pinning for what reason?

There always seems to be new things to distract me.  The latest, Pinterest.  As best as I can describe it, Pinterest enables one to collect pictures (and their links) from around the internet.  Like poodles?  Pin a picture of your favorite on your board.  Recipe for croissants?  Pin the picture, which will eventually link back to the site with the recipe.

I've spent the day learning how to pin and access my and others' pin boards.  Basically, this is like cutting out pictures and putting them on a bulletin board.  What I haven't figured out is why I'm doing this.  If I didn't collect the pictures before, why now?  And a bigger question:  Why are people looking at what I've pinned?  And why on the earth are they "repinning" my pictures?    I hate to say this, but...

What's the point?

I am here...

I just haven't gotten it together yet.

Sweets for...Me!

This year I decided that I should be able to have an assortment of gluten-free Christmas cookies, after buying myself yet another gluten-free cookbook-- Gluten Free Christmas Cookies.  I've tried four recipes now, and have about worn myself out.  (I'm not a baker). 

I made pecan praline meringues and thumbprint cookies last week.  The meringues were wonderful.  Yesterday, while it was snowing, I made choclate crinkle cookies, hoping they would be like my grandmother's cookies (not!) and my very first cut-out sugar cookies.

Time consuming.   I resorted to little dog bones after trying a couple of poodles, made with a cookie cutter send by my friend, Ana.  Sorry, Canon, I didn't do you justice.  Caprice ended up blue and broken.  Both dogs have been eaten. 

Not works of art, but somehow, it was satisfying to finish them.  I learned not to roll cookies too thin, and that royal icing really doesn't taste too good right out of the bowl.

Maybe it's not so important to have so many Christmas cookies for two people.  (I can't take them elsewhere.)  Next year, I'll downsize.

Doggie Envy

Just for the record, I'm going to start off by saying I know I can't handle more than two dogs.  Caprice and Canon are quite enough to love, thank you.  But that doesn't mean I can't envy someone who gets another dog.

I went with my friend, Nancy to pick up her miniature poodle Gidgette, who was arriving on the plane yesterday.  The anticipation of getting another little furry body to love is one thing, but her arrival was something else.  She is absolutely adorable.  She was crying and her tiny body was shaking when Nancy first got her out of her crate, but she seemed to get more comfortable quickly as we got to the car and headed for home.  Once we stopped for her to relieve herself, she became perkier.

She must have bonded with Nancy on that ride, because when we got to Nancy's house and Nancy went to get the other dogs, she stood at the car window, whining for her.

The first meeting of dogs was frenzied, with a lot of barking, tail wagging, and some stay-away teeth-showing on Gidgette's part.  None of the dogs was quite sure what to do.  The bigger dogs wanted to play, but didn't know how to handle the little one.  The little one was used to bigger dogs, but wasn't familiar with these.  We spent some time in the house, in the backyard, and on a walk, trying to figure out how to get everyone to calm down.

Although I hated to, I left, because Nancy needed time alone with her new pack.   It was wild and wonderful.  Something I was able to enjoy vicariously and leave it like that.  Envy doesn't mean you have to have the same thing, but have the capacity to enjoy it anyway.  I can't wait to see how this develops. 

Sunrise

I am not an early riser.  The sunrise may be breathtaking.  Rising early may give one a sense of accomplishment.  I guess those things aren't important to me, as 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. is early enough for me.  Some days, even later is better.  This morning, however, I had to take Michael to the airport at 5:00 a.m., wondering, as we drove, if I would be able to stay awake enough to drive home.

As I drove home, I did appreciate the silhouette of the Sandias against the sky as it lightened, that glimpse of sunlight waiting to make its appearance.  As I drove east on Academy, I felt like I was in an unfamiliar place.  All I saw was dark punctuated with lights that looked like a mansion ahead, or a huge building.  It was actually the streetlights at Wyoming, transformed for a few moments.

I enjoyed my experience, but that's enough.  When I returned home, I crawled into bed for another hour. The dogs didn't complain and just cuddled up.  That's the time I appreciate the most.

I supposed I'll never totally forget those I loved..  I think of my father, or mother, or a dog at an odd moment.  And then there are the things that are the reminders of these loved ones.  This week I had a couple of reminders of my father.

For some reason, Michal was talking about how hard it was for him to steam open an envelope without damaging it.  That was one of my father's teases.  He'd write, "Steamed open by mistake" on some of the letters I received when I lived in their house.  Nothing big.  Just something that told me he loved me.  (My eyes are even tearing up remembering this.)

I played bridge with my Assistance League group yesterday.  Another reminder.  My father loved bridge, and played every Monday (I think) night for as long as I can remember.  I remember some of the people he played with, first in the little den right next to our bedroom, then, the the family room when it was added to the house.  Izzy, Leo, Nate Steinberg,...I think of the package of Oreos he'd often provide for snacks, along with popcorn, or something my mother would make.  There were grumbles when someone's partner made a wrong bid or play.

Dad was good at bridge.  He remembered cards and was a good strategist, neither trait inherited by me.

Maybe I like bridge because it reminds me of him.

Ghosts of Halloween Past

Halloween is tomorrow.  This is not thrilling to me.  I must be the Scrooge of Halloween.  I don't like running to the door every minute or so while trying to watch something on TV or finish something in the kitchen, listening to my dogs bark and get excited.  I don't enjoy oohing and aahing at the kids' costumes.  I don't like parents who hold their teeny children out to get candy, when I know full well who's going to eat the candy.  I don't like the kids who haven't even learned to say, "Trick or treat," and just hold their bags out for me to pour the candy in.  I don't like the kids who evaluate the loot and complain if I don't have candy they like.  I don't appreciate kids who can't even say thank you, but turn immediately and leave.

And yet, Halloween was fun as a kid.  We even extended our Halloween to include the night before, Beggars' Night.  I remember walking around with friends, but for the most part, I can't tell you which friends.  I don't remember any specific costumes, but I do remember having to wear a coat over/under my costume if it was cold.  I do remember that getting a popcorn ball was a good deal.  I remember the Beckley's Halloween parties in their garage.  Bales of hay for decorations were a big deal, too.  My memories of Halloween are slim, but I did enjoy it.

What happened?

Being a teacher and having Halloween parties with wild, greedy children?  Being on the giving end, rather than the receiving end?  Being damn lazy?

BOO HUMBUG!!!

All iz well- 3 Idiots

What does "All iz well" have to do with the Bollywood movie 3 Idiots?  It is the film's mantra, but is also how I feel about the movie.  This long, silly movie about the search for a former college friend takes many twists and subplots.  You name the motif, it's there.  Three musketeers.  Check.  Hateful professor.  Check.  Rival classmates.  Check.  Hate/love relationship.  Check.  Findling a long lost love.  Check.  Learning to do what you love, rather than what your parents want of you.  Check.  Genius bad boy makes good.  Among these "chapters" are Bollywood production numbers.  I loved it and am glad that the title didn't scare me away from it.

For a review, see http://lapiskamay.wordpress.com/2011/03/24/3-idiots-film-review/ .

Back in the Saddle

This handsome young man and I went back to school today after a seven week hiatus and this is something to celebrate for lots of reasons. 

First, my cast is off and I feel like going to class!  Not having my dog classes which fill up so much of my time has been hard on us both.  Canon gets to socialize and work, where he's been leading an undisciplined life for the past month and a half.  I expected wildness and willfulness, but Mr. Canon did a good job.  We' had to make a few adaptations- mostly off-leash since I can't correct him with his collar, and we haven't done what the other dogs have, but I'm proud of my boy.

Evi gave him the dreaded ear pinch to make him pick up the dumbell today.  It was hard mto watch, but nowhere near as awful as I expected it to be.  We have a lot of homework to do there.

Ultimately, it was nice to have a job for me to do and a place for us to go.  Being homebound isn't all it's cracked up to be, unless it's a cold, snowy day.

I'm happier than I've been in awhile, and I hope Canon is, too...

I can...

...touch my nose with my left hand-
        I have to bend my head a bit,
        but it's still good,
...pull up my pants with two hands,
...tie my own shoes,
...carry two dog dishes at the same time.

             I am SUPERWOMAN!

Joint Analogies

I know there are some analogies or metaphors here somewhere.  Maybe they'll reveal themselves.

The cast came off my arm two days ago.  What a relief to not carry that cast around, to not clunk against furniture and doorways, to not have to carefully tape a garbage bag over my arm to shower or bathe.  No incision scar rbbing against plastic.  I have all my fingers to use now.  BUT, the elbow still doesn't work.  This is not unusual after my arm has been in forced at a 90 degree angle for six weeks, but it is frustrating. i can straighten the elbow to almost 45 degrees.  I work and work at bending the elbow more, so I could rub lotion on my other arm or blow dry my hair.  It feels like I've made progress, but when I look at my elbow, I still see that 90 degree bend.  I'm nowhere near scratching my nose, unless I try bending my head down to my hand (not easy!).

Here's where the metaphoric stuff comes in.   I look at my arm, know how it used to work, how it should work, but it just doesn't for no apparent reason, even discounting the pain.  It's kind of like when your phone or some appliance stops working.  You either get someone to fix it, or throw it away and buy a new one.  Not an option. I look at my hand longingly and will it to scratch my nose, to button my blouse.  Not yet. 

That discrepancy between knowing how my body should work, and how it's actually working is tough to digest.  I do think of the people who have lost limbs or the use of their limbs permanentlt, and can't even think how I would deal with that and be able to make the physical and mental adaptations necessary to go on to having a happy, productive life.  I suppose some never do.

I'm expecting to get past this.  I make my tiny steps towards moving that arm, waiting the six weeks until my doctor's appointment, when the PA will suggest my next steps.  I'm anxious, and suppose I will be for awhile. 

Sounds a bit like other roadbocks in life.  Doesn't it?

This morning...

... I woke up to sunshine...


                and this...

and this...

Not bad after a cloudy, rainy day yesterday!

My latest excuse for not keeping up with my blog

Pain and Poetry

It's been two weeks now.
A walk in the park.  Two dogs. ???
Elbow looks kind of funny and hurts like hell.
Lying on the grass in the park.
Paramedics.  Ambulance. 
8 hours in the emergency room.
 Splint. 
Surgery 4 days later. 
Wires.
 Percocet. 
Swelling. 
Sleeping. 
Helpless.
Still hurts-

 maybe not

like hell,

but a lot.

Staples out in two more days.

 Cast? 

Then what?

Wet

Yes, this a picture of nothing but wet pavement and grass, but that's a good thing.  It's our first real rain of the summer.  Not a downpour.  Not for long.  It's drying up already.  But it's RAIN!!!

The "Orchard"

I picked our five peaches last week (really, four, one was on the ground, pecked by birds).  I'd guess that having only five peaches on the tree, enabled them to get big.  I was as proud as if I had something to do with it.  When you've spent most of your life NOT growing edibles, every little bit is a thrill.

Learning that Stuck

Sometimes we look back and wonder what we learned in our school years and of what use it is to us.  There are skills we've acquired that can't be attributed to one time or place- math skills, reading and writing skills-- those that have been built upon (and eroded).  And then there's a body of knowledge- most of it lost, I would think, and relatively useless.  Knowing Akhenaten was married to Nefertiti, has never really served me well, although I enjoy knowing this. My familiarity with Greek and Roman mythology helps me understand literary references.

One thing that I am guessing has stuck with many people, is the ability to name the clouds- nimbus, cumulus, cumulonimbus. cirrus, stratus.  I don't know why.  Perhaps because we look at them every day-because the sky and weather affect us, because we all are weather forecasters.  Perhaps because the names are fun to say.  We feel very "scientific" being able to identify clouds.  Cloud gazing inspires the creative part of us as well as the scientific.  I've been thinking about clouds the past few days because I keep hoping they're going to give us much awaited rain.  So I'm going to keep on watching them, and naming...