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...

School Memories- Pinon Canyon Camp

Today I went to an Assistance League training session at the YWCA Pinon Canyon Camp in Tijeras.  It brought back memories of Kevin and me taking our classes there a couple of times for a beginning of the year activity.  I think we spent 2 or 3 nights there, learning about the environment from their trainers, enjoying the area, learning to work together. 

I especially remember the bunk rooms- decidedly uncomfortable, cooking and cleaning up in the kitchen with a group of kids, the parent pot luck dinner, singing along with Jeff Burrows, learning to use a compass, and bringing home a tub of earthworms each year for our own mini-composter.  Those worms lasted a year, until I stored them in the garage one hot summer, and the worms crawled out and died.

It makes me want to sort through my pictures, where I know I have pictures of at least one of our trips, so I guess I'll do that now...Voila!

Doggy Etiquette

I am no Emily Post of the doggy set. My dogs are as likely as any to bark at a passers-by or to jump up on a visitor or anyone who has a kind word for them. I am happy to have almost anyone's dog jump up on me and give me big, slobbery kisses. But I do have some expectations of people and their dogs.

It would be nice to think that we are all good dog handlers and that all dogs are trained well, but most of us know better.  Think of all that forewarned, forearmed stuff.  Case in point:  Don't get close to strange dogs (may work for people, too) when you don't know how they'll react.  When we walk, I give other dogs and their walkers wide berth.  Mine tend to get crazy and bark a lot, scaring others.  (I told you I'm not the expert!)  and who knows about the other dogs.   The park where I walk Caprice and Canon has some narrow walks along the drainage ditch, which we call "dog alley."  There's really no roon for two-way traffic, without pushing someone on the edge of the ditch.  When we come to one of these alleys, I watch for walkers coming the other way.  If someone enters from the other direction, I circle back with my dogs and wait. 

Others, trusting me, I guess, are not so thoughtful.  They forge into the alley, leaving me to backtrack, or try to handle my dogs (sometimes I can, and sometimes, I can't, depending on space, preparation, and my dogs' frenzy.)  The other day I couldn't.  The space was small; the grass was wet; I had to turn at a funny angle.  Result:  my dogs got very close to the little black dog coming towards us, close enough to possibly scare mom and dog, and I ended up twisted in the leashes and on the ground.  "That's your problem," you might say.  It certainly is, but I still think some common sense and consideration by others is called for.  Manners can make walking the dogs a bit easier for whimps like me.

Memories of HP

Harry Potter and I have not had a lot to do with each other for a long time now.  If the truth be known, I never finished The Deadly Hallows and I'm wayyy behind on the movies.  But I still have  a strong affection for him, and the big opening of the last movie has brought a wave of nostalgia to me.

I vaguely remember reading about Harry in 1997.  I was so intrigued after reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone that I ordered a paperback copy Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone from Amazon.uk, thinking it was a sequel.   It was actually a matter of changing the title for American audiences-- something about a sorcerer being more intriguing.  I enjoyed comparing the two- really a matter of changing a few spellings and Britishisms.  The original illustrator was not Mary GrandPre, as well.

I closely followed the sequels, looking forward to the delivery of each, but my greatest joy and memories of HP were sharing the first two books with my students.

Reading aloud was always a favorite thing for me to do with students.  Favorite enough to base my dissertation on reading aloud.  HP was one of the most memorable read-alouds.  The books are long, have flowing descriptions, and varied characters.  They invite taking on the voices of the characters.  I had a bit of difficulty keeping my characters straight.  Sometimes Hagrid would change accent and voice (I wasn't very good with the accents); I would mix up my characters, but there always seemed to be life in them, no matter what the voice rendition.  J.K. Rowling's writing was a teacher's dream.  What wonderful examples of descriptive writing, showing, not telling.  I fell in love with the book all over again when reading it aloud, and I believe my students were right there with me.

I usually do not reread- not time, but for Harry, I might make an exception.  Or there's always a movie marathon.  By the time I get through them, Hallows #2 may be available!

Simple things

Sometimes we underestimate the simple things that can make us happy.  For me today it was running with Canon in an agility fun match, no matter how clunky I was or how hot it was, having lunch out with Michael, and finishing it off with frozen yogurt at Menchies.

It's probably been about ten years since I had ice cream at an ice cream place (other than the plain stuff at Souper Salad.  It was a thrill for me to get to taste yogurts and serve my own today.  No get-your-yogurt-and-run for me.  I sat there and savored every bit.  A new favorite.  A refound happiness.

Breaking the rules with grace

Creativity means learning where the rules exist, and them breakiing them!  Saying, "It's better this way."  But you have to know the rules in order to break them with any grace.  

                   -Alan Arkin in an interview in New Mexico Magazine, 6/11

This resonated with me when I read it in the hospital waiting room the other day.  I like the image of breaking the rules with grace.  This fits in with my idea of education or learning:  a basic foundation will serve you well as a platform for creating.  It probably is my platform for learning, why I want the facts and procedures first, before I run with it and create my own learning.

Michael sometimes makes fun of me for being so concerned about the rules and the "right way" of doing things.  I guess I'd just like to do everything with grace!

Justice?

Two posts in one day!  Since I sat down to write, I might as well...

 

 

Do I recap the Casey Anthony case?  An early 20's mother, who, it seems, did away with her 2-year-old daughter three years ago.  Lots of evidence, including not reporting her daughter was missing for a month, points to her guilt.  I, as well as most people, it seems, believe she is  guilty.  Today she was was acquited, most likely because the prosecution did not make its case.

Many are saddened, disheartened by the verdict, and feel that Caylee did not get justice.  Caylee did not get justice three years ago when she was murdered.  The justice of today is not about Caylee, but about the rest of us not getting the satisfaction of a heinous misdeed being punished.  It may be a travesty of justice, but not for the little girl...for our own need for revenge.   (Do I sound like the Barbara that supports the death penalty?)

 

 

Too harsh for people who are heartbroken over a senseless death?  Maybe.  But the dead never really get justice.

Catfish

We watched a very strange movie last night, Catfish, one of those Netflix choices that made me wonder how I picked it.  It's a documentary about a Facebook relationship based on lies, and how one young man (who happened to be a documentary maker) traced down the truth.  Truth is a funny word to use with this movie, because the film itself seems partially faked.  Neverthelss, I watched the whole, thing, wondering what the truth actually was.  I did like the explanation of the movie's title:

Cod, explains to one character near the end of the movie,  are kept in tanks with catfish – the catfish nip at the cod’s fins, keeping them sharp, alert… keeping them on their toes, so to speak.

Is the movie explaining itself?  Warning us?  Justifying the deceit of the woman who claims she is other than what she is, who has created a cyberlife for herself?

Catfish has stuck with me because of its uniqueness and because it leaves questions in my mind.  Just what I like in a movie.

 

A "Not the 4th" Picture...

,,,but a memory.  I'm guessing I was 5,6,7, making Nancy 3,4,5.   I think the sailor dresses (there's the patriotic part of this for you) may have been brought to us by our grandparents.  Somehow I think they were quite crisp.  I kind of remember my braids being pulled real tight.  We even look like we might have gotten along, but I don't know that for sure.

I was looking at a file of family pictures.  Most brought tears to my eyes because they were of my parents.  As I leafed through them, I could see mom and dad and their friends and family age.  Sometimes I just miss having parents.  Miss  moments we had and could have had.  Today was one of those days.

Crazy Proud

I titled this entry because I am both.  We had our second Show Obedience class today, and Mr. Canon did pretty well.  Did he down easily?  No.  Did he sit up easily?  No.  He did heel well, and he went right over the jumps and back to me.  Even went after a toy, which he doesn't usually do in classes.  Am I proud of him doing what he should do?  Yes.  Am I crazy for driving across town with Nancy for two dog classes on Wednesdays?  YES.  Am I glad to do it?  Right!

The Dark and The Light

"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

The battle between dark and light fascinates me.  I'm not sure whether it came from my reading of fantasy,  or whether my love of fantasy built up this interest.  After I read the Martin Luther King, Jr. , posting on Facebook, I was brought back to the idea of this struggle.  It's not just a fantasy issue, but a part of our everyday lives, expecially in terms of what is going on in our world today.  I thiI nk that there are times when it's hard to distinguish the dark from the light. The celebration of a death- is that light...or dark? Do we have control over either?  When will the lightness overcome the dark?  Morning, for sure, but it seems we need more.

I'm thinking of going back to Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising series.  Children's books, yes, but a dramatic struggle between dark and light, and, of course, a happy ending, but not without costs.  And then I think about the Wrinkle in Time trilogy, and Dianna Wynne Jones, and...

Maybe it takes fantasy, and for me, right now, children's books to give us hope.

The Minority Voice

I've been watching the reports of Osama bin Laden's death for about a half hour now. What a strange state of affairs! Yes, this man was an enemy of our country who had a hand in orchestrating the death of many and unthinkable destruction. His acts perhaps precipitated our engagement in wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and even more deaths on all sides.

Yet, I have trouble with rejoicing over murder and death. What have we come to? Is it fear speaking? Our inability to defend ourselves and our country? Murder is a victory? Really-- is the world now a better place? IS justice served? I guess I still don't understand war... Or mankind...

Barbara Barely Blogs

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A Smile after a Rant and Rave Session

I got this message on Facebook today:

Cass Malloy posted on your Wall.
"Hi Ms Friedman,
Diana Wynne Jones passed away this morning. I wanted to say thank you for sharing her writing with us. DWJ was a huge part of my growing up and I'm going to miss her terribly."

This might have contributed to some of my tears and fears today, but it's also a wonderful memory of sharing books with children.

Golden- Smolden!

The golden years are a myth perpetuated by advertising and do-gooders.  The truth is I'm facing my mortality and it ain't great!

I've probably always been a pessimist, a kind of half-empty (or in this case 4/5 empty) kind of gal.  I seem to be in a perpetual state of mourning right now.  I see old people around and realize I'm one of them.  I'm realizing that getting up slowly from the floor is a need rather than a choice, that waking up with aches and pains is not a matter of a new mattress, that I'm probably not going to do that yoga pose again.

This has been going on awhile, but came to a head when I've been struggling with learning to handle Canon in agility.  At first my goofiness and inaccuracy could be attributed to being new at it.  Now I see the people I've been learning with growing and leaving me in the dust.  I am learning, but more slowly.  I have trouble thinking on my feet and remembering what kind of cross I'm going to make where, to call out an obstacle to my dog ahead of time.

This sucks!  I use that word rarely, but it seems to encapsulate my frustration.  I look at my bookshelves and see books I may not get around to reading in my lifetime.  I have dollars in the bank I may not spend.  There many be no more dogs in my future.

When am I going to get that kick that tells me to just do it, and get on with my life?

Another "Aren't My Dogs Wonderful?' Post

Today:  Caprice's birthday.  Wendy's Diamong and Nutmeg are still here, so I put up the tunnel, weave poles and a jump for the dogs.  They weren't interested in the weave poles and jump, but they all took their turns in the tunnel, Nutmeg, after some private lessons.

2 Year "Anniversary"

More tears today-- for a different reason.  Just thinking about this day has been bringing me to tears.   It’s a day to renew the beautiful memories of my boy Rondo.   One of my favorite things, although there are so many,  was when he came up to me a chewed on my hair a little bit, nuzzling my neck.  He followed me everywhere-- including to the bathroom.

  I remember our terrible fight against osteosarcoma.  Those are not the good memories.  But there were always smiles, as he retained his wonderful good nature.

We'll be celebrating Caprice's  fifth birthday in three days.   I love Caprice and Canon dearly, but will always have Rondo in my heart with the others I love and have loved.  My experience with him has changed me.  I’m more compassionate, have made some wonderful friends at BCD, and best of all, I remember that every day with my dogs and loved ones is a special one. 

Thank you, Rondo.

Tears

Yes, I shed a few more tears for our retiring veterinarian today.

This evening, however, I watched a 60 Minutes segment on homeless kids- kids living in cars, motels, with neighbors.  I watched them explain what it feels like to be hungry, how they use the Walmart bathroom to clean up before going to school.  A girl smiles as she tells how it embarrasses her when her father has to beg at the side of the road to help pay for their cheap motel room.

This is American, goddanmit!  Kids shouldn't have to go through being locked out of their own homes, their belongings being auctioned off.  (Not that their parents should have to go through this either.)

Got a good deal on a foreclosure house?  Just think about who used to live there and what happened to them.  These times suck.  This is something to cry about!

My vet is retiring.  My dogs will have someone new caring for them.  I can pay their bills.  I really ought to shed my tears for something else!