SunWolf Lightfoot

Being a Mom

2010-10-28T13:58:00.003-04:00

Dear Sometimes-But-Not-Always-Elusive-Offspring,

So, now you are engaged. To a lovely girl we love as if she were our own. And someday you will have little EOs of your own.

When I was pregnant with you, I did not know whether you would be a boy or a girl. I couldn’t explain why, but I did not want to know. All I knew is that I was carrying a baby. My little miracle. And I loved you from the moment I knew you existed. I sang to you, and played the piano for you, and ate lobster for you (ok, that part was for me), and did everything I could do to make sure you were healthy.

I knew Dad wanted a boy (although he would have been happy with a girl), but at the time, I thought I wanted a girl. I believed I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy. I had heard so many stories about how boys were always getting hurt (breaking bones, getting into scraps, you know what I mean). How they were so messy. And they played with toy guns (it's true!). But I figured, having been a girl, I would know all about girls. So I made pretty little dresses in preparation.

Then you were born. A little “bundle of boy” as Dad called you. I’m not sure but that I may have had a momentary pang of … should I call it “disappointment” … at the knowledge that I was not to have my little girl after all. But if I had that feeling, it was nothing more than a fleeting pang, because I adored you totally and completely from the start. I cried when you were one day old, and then three days old and at various intervals thereafter, at first because you were no longer a physical part of me, but then because each day you were closer to leaving me. I cried because there was no Earthly way that anyone could ever love me nearly as much as I love you. I cried because I would have to go to work and leave you with a care taker. Without a second thought, I gave the little dresses I had made to a friend who had a little girl, and I went out to find the most adorable boy outfits to dress you in.

Every day brought new wonders for us all. I have such clear memories of those first three years: how you always ran to the door to meet us when we came home from work. I remember the silly faces you made. And “b’zim” was your word for anything that flew (bird, plane, butterfly, leaf). Even now, the cry of the “b’zim” bird always means spring is in the air. I remember picking up two water pistols one day and filling them up so that I could get out of the car with “pistols blazing” when you came to meet us after work one summer day (ok, moms sometimes play with toy guns, too). The Homeric battle that ensued, with you chasing me around outside the house with the big red water pistol, and me still in my business suit with the little blue one, will stay with me and make me smile forever. As will all those nights three-year-old-you made me play Patsy Cline’s “Crazy for Crying” and the Phantom of the Opera over and over when you went to bed.

I remember your first day of school, your trip to Poland, your disappointment when Hamid could not stay with us and how well you handled that. You were always a leader even in grade school. And such a clown: “Mom, what does a car do when it’s sleepy? It goes to the roadbed.” And yes, I do remember the bumps and bruises and the broken bones, the disappointments and the broken hearts (yours and others). I remember every Halloween costume you wore, every cardboard and tape creation you designed, every play I saw you in, every song I've heard you sing. Your accomplishments astound me, from your high grades, to your acting, your singing, your art, your achievement of Eagle Scout, Master’s Degree, PhD, physics as your chosen field…your kindness and sense of humor.

The hardest day of my life was the day we left you at school in Scotland and had to come home to the empty nest. But, of course, I know that is the way it should be.
I just want you to know that I am so glad that you turned out to be who you are. I love having my boy. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that you and Hattie will experience the same feelings some day. Thank you for being my sometimes Elusive Offspring. I love you!

Birthday Shenanigans

2010-06-16T13:44:00.001-04:00

My favorite husband had a birthday recently. For three months, I’ve been asking him what he would like for his birthday, but he always says: “Oh, I don’t need anything, just some time off to do the things I like to do” like fishing, golfing, hiking, you know, guy things. It seems we have reached that stage in life where, if we want something, we go out and get it.

So the day came closer and closer and finally I decided what I would do. I would buy him a really nice bottle of Scotch whisky. And some Tequila (because he’s been making margaritas to go with the yummy dinners he makes on his new grill). And then I stopped and picked up some stunning dark chocolate delights (to go with the Scotch…chocolate is fantastic with Scotch). And I made a pretty card. I said I’d take him out to dinner at my favorite, expensive French Restaurant in Old Town. IF he could get off work, that is (he’s part of a government task force on the BP oilspill so you know he’s a busy camper).

I arranged everything on his chair for him to see when he came in the door. He calls: can’t quite get away from the office. Scratch dinner out. He’ll bring home steaks to put on his new exciting grill. Great! I’ll make the shrooms and salad. Then he calls again. Nope. Doesn’t have time to grill either. He’ll bring home sushi. Wow! It’s his BD and he’s bringing home the sushi. He didn’t want me to go out and do anything because he just didn’t have any certainty about timing (queue the vision of a beautifully coifed and dressed, patient wife sitting at a stunningly set table with lit candles and fantastic dinner … souflee, maybe?... and no husband).

He then calls from the sushi restaurant. He says he’s next to the ABC store and thinks he’ll just pop in for some more Scotch and some Tequila. Why don’t you just come home, I ask. But I’m next door. Aw, don’t bother, I say, it’s your birthday. No big deal, says my husband, I’m right here. But why don’t you wait until I can come with you because I’D like to participate in choosing for once. Actually, I don’t care because I trust his judgment, but I said it really passionately, hoping he would believe I’ve been feeling left out of the process. Oh, he says, I’ll just go in and look around.

Some time later, he walks in the door, sushi bag in one hand, unmistakable black ABC bag in the other. He takes one look at his chair and says: “Oh! I see!” I told him he’s the doofiest doof I know! After I relayed this story to a colleague, he told me that what it says is that I know my husband’s likes very well. I got him something he wanted.

Happy BD, favorite husband.

The Nightmare Is Over

2009-11-10T12:58:00.002-05:00

Our refinance ordeal is finally over. What should have been a slam-dunk and should have taken only three weeks from start to finish, actually took eight months and ultimately required a letter to the CEO (something I have not done since I was in my twenties). I think I can safely say that the delay was not caused by us, but was caused by the bank (and, to be charitable, maybe even confusion on their part as to new rules brought about by the current economic crisis).

I won’t name the bank because I am very forgiving (and because in the end we got a really good deal…4.5% fixed, zero points and almost no other closing costs). Still, the eight-month delay cost us a total of about $10,000 and we could not refinance the higher interest loan used for the elusive one’s university education while the house refinance was pending. After five months, my favorite husband got so frustrated that he wanted to dump the whole thing and go somewhere else, which is probably what the bank wanted us to do, but I absolutely refused to give up that rate. So, persistence paid off and we closed on the deal last week. This should result in a savings of about $1300 per month…which also goes a long way toward making me so forgiving.

Now I have a plan to use that savings to pay off our other bills. I wrote up the plan a few months ago, but could not implement it until now. I think it’s going to be really nice to get rid of our debt. We hemorrhaged money this summer. There have been so many unexpected events since March, each costing between $500 and $1500…starting with the sad loss of Wolfie, going on to medical costs, two replaced clutches and a replaced motor mount, dental (OMG don’t get me started on that!), helping the elusive one get back to Scotland for his Masters’ Degree. My plan now is to cut costs and pay off the debt. It’s been a very stressful year, which explains, in part, my absence.

But I feel more like myself again. The stress is starting to let up quite a bit and I’m feeling really creative again, playing the piano, stitching, painting, reading…I hope the stars are properly aligned now for a new leaf on life. Now that the nightmare is over.

The Future Is Here

2009-10-27T22:30:00.004-04:00

When I was coming home from work yesterday, I really wished I had a camera at my fingertips. As I was passing the new (well, relatively new) WWII Memorial, I saw one of our mounted police sitting astride a beautiful Morgan, as still as a statue...looking intently at his Blackberry.

I wish my own Blackberry had a camera on it! I decided against the Curve (which has a camera) in favor of the World Edition (which does NOT have a camera) because I wanted to be able to use it in Scotland when the Elusive Offspring graduated in June. I didn't mind not having a camera in the Blackberry then, because I always had my little Cybershot with me. But for everyday life, I don't carry the camera.

I can't wait until Apple decides to open up its iPhone to all providers. As soon as the iPhone is available on Verizon, I'm switching! Until then...I'll suffer through without a built in camera. Sigh. I do have an iPod Touch, which my wonderful son gave me when he got it for free as a perk for buying a new MacBook Pro for his graduate work. I love it. It doesn't have a camera either, but it lets me read books from my Kindle (great for waiting in the doctor's office), and I can watch movies on it (that was wonderful when I flew out to LA recently).

Technology is a wonderful thing.

Daily's Lost Companion

2009-08-12T09:41:00.001-04:00

I didn’t mean to be cruel. It just happened. Daily was at the back door, yowling at Kira and my favorite husband, who were in the back yard playing with a ball. I was in the front of the house, in the living room, listening to his howling, and it sounded like “lemmeout”…so I sort of made the same sound. He ignored me. He knew very well I was mocking him. We went on like this for a few minutes, but then I ramped it up a bit, into the real thing. I am actually quite good at making a variety of cat sounds. Been doing it since I was 8 or 9. I can fool dogs, cats and people. This time, I made the same howl that Wolfie used to do when he went into the basement (don’t know why he used to do this, but he did). Suddenly, Daily came running into the living room, meowing expectantly, responsively. He stood in the middle of the rug and looked here and there, with huge, concerned eyes – and it was clear to me that he was positive that he would find his long lost buddy, Wolfie. My heart broke.

Cesar Millan says that dogs (and I would add cats and all animals) live in the now. I believe that. For two weeks after we had to euthanize Wolfie, Daily frantically looked for him, everywhere. Whenever we opened a door to leave, he tried desperately to escape the house because he was certain that Wolfie was out there and all he had to do was go out and find him. But then, after a few weeks, he settled down and seemed to be moving on. He and Kira have gotten pretty close.

But when Daily ran into the living room the other day, expecting to see Wolfie almost five months later, I realized that, although animals live in the now, they don’t forget. Wolfie may be gone, but he's not forgotten. I cannot help but wonder what Daily would have done if he had found Wolfie in the living room.

Finished Book Nine

2009-08-06T22:49:00.003-04:00

I just finished the last Sookie Stackhouse novel (number 9)...ok. So, in the nine books, we have met vampires, shifters and were-folk, witches, fairies, an ectoplasmic recreation, and even a maenad. I can't help but wonder what's next, ghosts? Or will she just stick to the (in)human aspect of Sookie's relationships with the various men, vampires, weres, and shifters in her life? These are important questions that will only be answered when Sookie 10 comes out. When will that be? Let me find out...

OK, May 2010. Time to turn to something new. Been thinking about reading Gone With The Wind again. I still have a bunch of the old-fashioned print books hanging around the house (as much as I love my pony the Kindle, I love print books more). Barbara Pym... have her first book...that would be a good one to read. And the elusive one has a copy of C.S. Lewis' "Screwtape Letters." It actually looks like a quick read...maybe I'll start with that.

So...that's what I'm going to do now. Start a new book.

Finished Project

2009-08-04T22:29:00.003-04:00

This is a photo of my stitched, but not yet framed project, "Arabella Reborn," a Michael Boren design, in the original Fraises du Bois pink! It is a lot prettier in person than it is in this photo. I'll frame it when I finish stitching the companion piece, "Daphne Reborn," which I have only just started. I did Arabella Reborn in two full days. Maybe if I spend this next weekend stitching, I might also finish "Daphne." Somehow I doubt I will have the time, but I'll try. I also want to finish stitching a couple of other projects this year. I'll try to photo and post them as I complete them.

There But For The Grace Of God

2009-08-03T22:03:00.000-04:00

Saturday night we (my favorite husband, the elusive son and I) went out to eat at our favorite sushi restaurant (Shiki Sushi in Ballston Commons) and then to see a movie (Star Trek, which the EO had not seen yet). It was a wonderful family-time evening, and on the way home, the sky was crackling in preparation for yet another beautiful thunderstorm.

The night became disturbing when, nearing Lee Highway, we saw a man in the median of the road. He had fallen and could not get up…in fact he started crawling. He had no shoes on. It was clear that he was either very drunk or very weak/ill. Either way, we could not leave him, so we stopped in hopes of helping him. When we got to him, we could tell that he had been drinking, heavily. We got him on his feet, and it became obvious that he was in no shape to continue his journey on foot (or knee).

He looked to me to be in his sixties…but he could have been younger. I just could not tell in the dark. Then again, I don’t know if I’m a good judge of age. He was dressed in clean, decent athletic clothing, and had a very nice pair of glasses on, and we did not feel like he was homeless, so we asked him what his address was. “Four one four,” he said, and then repeated: “Four one four.” But no street address. “Should we look at your license to see where you live?” I asked him, and he said that his wallet had been stolen…and in fact, he did not seem to have a wallet on him. No identification at all. But finally, we got the name of his street and we put him in our car. Yes, we put him in our car. That’s a real iffy thing to do, I realize. I mean, who was this guy and what were we going to do with him if we didn’t find his home? We didn’t want to take him to the police. They would put him in jail and then he would have that on his record. And we could not leave him there in the median…it was about to storm. He could have been hit by a car, or struck by lightning, or he could have fallen again and ended up in a gutter and drowned. It could happen.

We drove around looking for the 400 block of his road. It didn’t make sense, because we were in the 4000 block, which made me believe he probably meant 4014, not 414. Thank goodness that was correct, and at last we got him to 4014, where it turns out he lived in a basement apartment. It was quite dark by then, and, leaving me in the car, H and EO walked him (one on each side) to his apartment. It was so dark and late, I was afraid someone would think they were burglers and shoot them or something (yes, I’m a worrier…worrier, I say, not a warrior). As they passed the man’s car, they found his wallet, keys, a half eaten hotdog and I think they said an empty Vodka bottle (but could not find his shoes). They took these things and the man into the apartment and helped him into bed. Then then came back to the car and we went home.

I hope the man stayed in bed. I hope it was his apartment (haha). In the morning, he would have absolutely no recollection of what had happened the night before. Which is fine by me.

Kindle Time

2009-07-29T21:26:00.004-04:00

I have not done much writing lately. Earlier in the year, I was so busy with a pesky case that I hardly wanted to look at a computer, much less write anything. But we settled that case, and less than a week after the settlement was filed, my favorite husband and I went to Scotland for the elusive offspring's graduation from St Andrews. We leased a flat on North Street for a week and what a good idea that was! We were able to entertain EO's friends and their parents, as well as lecturers. We were able to prepare our own meals, clean our clothing, spread out and stage EO's move from one flat to another (he is continuing next year, getting his Masters Degree). I didn't have access to a computer for writing, although I actually had time to write. Instead, I spent my down time reading books on my wonderful Kindle. I find that I have been reading so much more since I got the Kindle. It's so easy to carry from place to place, and when you finish one book, you can immediately start another one, without going to the bookstore. I am still reading physical paper books as well. But I have become very attached to the Kindle. In the last three months, I have read all but one of the Sookie Stackhouse novels as well as a few other books (to remain nameless for now). I should be starting that last one tonight. Next on my list is Anthony Trollope's "Claverings" and then Dennis Lehane's "The Given Day."

So ... we are back from Scotland (photos to follow...eventually), EO is home for a while longer, and I have time to get back to writing again. The house is looking quite nice, now that the wonderful Sara comes to clean it every two weeks, and we keep it so much neater now. I have about 12-15 boxes to go through...mostly paper. They are all stacked in the hallway for now because we are using the "project room" as a guest room (a friend of EO's from the UK is visiting right now). The project room actually looks very nice, too, with everything tucked away in pretty cabinets, behind doors. It seems like I have a couple of bags to take to Good Will every week or so. Who knew you could collect SO much stuff!

Yes, there is time to write now. And yet, it's not easy! I have so many things to write about, but I just can't seem to get going with it.

For now, I'll start my return with this rambling entry. Little by little, I'll get focused and back on track.

Horoscope

2009-07-22T23:05:00.002-04:00

My horoscope for today says:

Do you remember how you spent the day yesterday? Write it down and give it a good look – this is a portrait of your life. A realization will come out of this exercise that improves your tomorrows.

OK, so here goes…

I got up early, made the bed and got ready for work. I made sure the house was neat and surfaces uncluttered so my wonderful cleaning lady could have an easier time of cleaning the house. I got to work a little earlier than usual and spent the day clearing out files, organizing papers, catching up on ministerial stuff. It was not a difficult day, but I was glad when it was over. Went home and let the dog out, said hi and bye to my son and his friend from the UK, and went to a friend’s house to play with beads (make jewelry) and have dinner. At around 8:00, I went home, ran into a neighbor and talked for half an hour, spend another half an hour talking to my son and his friends and laughing at the dog’s antics. Then they left and I went into the house to clean the kitchen, empty the dishwasher, relax, stitch, and watch a couple of NCIS episodes, with the cat and dog very relaxed at my feet. A hot bubble bath and a couple of chapters of Sookie Stackhouse novel #8, and to bed by midnight. It was a good day. But was it a portrait of my life? Possibly. But it sounds awfully droll.

So what is the realization that comes out of this exercise to improve my tomorrows? Well, I’d say it is perhaps the thought that I’ve had a long time: I’d love to retire early, spend my days in creativity, and maybe start a business along the way. Ain’t gonna happen any time soon. Too many debts to pay off at this point in my life. But maybe it’s a goal.

Hiatus

2009-05-07T21:49:00.003-04:00

It's been a really long time since I have had time to write. Every once in a while I have one of those years where I spend a lot of time in the office...this seems to be one of those years. This week, I have been getting in at 6:30 a.m. and leaving at 6 p.m., and even then bringing stuff home with me. I'm getting really tired of this particular case. It is a lot of work, and stress. I'm ok with that, but I would like a break. I should not complain because I went on a stitching weekend a few weeks ago and had a wonderful time. I started and finished one piece, and completed another one too.

But that's about it for my free time. I just hope this case settles before we go to Scotland for the Elusive One's graduation.

Speaking of EO, today is his birthday. He's pretty happy today. Not just because it's his birthday, but because he is finished with classes etc. He defended his disseration today (hope that went well). And the best news was that he has been accepted to a postgraduate degree program...in Scotland. Yippee! I foresee more visits to Scotland in the future!

So, it may take me a while to write again. I'll try.

Fox Mating Season

2009-04-12T11:26:00.003-04:00

OK, so I know that there are people who actually get up at 4 in the morning to go to work during the week. And there are even people who get up at 4 in the morning on weekends. But I'm usually sleeping soundly, deep in dreams, at 4 a.m. on any given day.

Not last night. Imagine waking to the ungodly sound of a fox, screaming its little mating call right under your window. It is a VERY loud sound, and you might even mistake it for a cat using up its ninth life. But, it's a fox. Making the sound only another fox in search of a mate could enjoy. It echoed through the quiet morning air. Heart pounding, I looked out of our second floor bedroom window to see if I could spot it. Couldn't. But it sounded SO CLOSE. So I stood at the top of the stairs, and it was even louder. I crept down the stairs (each step squeaking loudly) and peered out the window on the front door. The sound was coming from less than five feet away. That fox was on my front porch, which is a big wraparound porch six steps up. Making its God-awful sound. When I tried to peek through the front window at him, he saw the movement and ran down to the walkway below the porch, where he stayed a few moments, then, cheeky thing, he ran back up onto the front porch and started again. Eventually, I had to speak to my favorite husband, who wanted to go outside and suggest to the fox (with a shoe perhaps?) that he might want to take his love sickness elsewhere. When he heard my voice, the fox trotted away, and we didn't hear him again. He was a handsome fellow, very golden, and the size of a very large cat. By now, I was wide awake. I finally got to sleep around 5:00.

I wonder if Daily's heart was pounding? He'd been attacked by a couple of foxes in his early life before we got him. Survived both attacks. I'll bet he knew exactly what that sound was, and was glad to be safe inside. Imagine being a homeless person asleep in the park down below, waking to that sound. I think that's where the term "primal fear" comes from. Fortunately, it was not a wolf.

Beautiful Weekend

2009-04-04T14:59:00.003-04:00

What a beautiful weekend we are having here in gorgeous Northern Virginia. It's about 65 degrees outside, but the wind is blowing like crazy. The sky is as clear as can be. People are out running, riding bikes, walking dogs, doing stuff.

This morning I went to Woodlawn to pick up the piece I had entered in the needlepoint exhibit, and on the drive down GW Parkway, I saw one of the bald eagles (was it Alex or Belle?) dive down into the Potomac and come up with a fish in its talons that my husband would have been proud to catch. It was very large. And then it took off down the river toward Alexandria (which made me think it had to be either Alex or Belle). It was a fantastic sight. I know of the nest near my house (which I really don't think is being used except as a stopping point), and the now-famous one just south of Alexandria. But then, further south on GW Parkway, I saw a bunch of photographers with giant telephoto lenses checking out yet a third nest. I didn't see any eagles, but I don't think there would have been three photographers if there had not been eagles.

It is so damned exciting, having all these eagles! Bald eagles, flying over the nation's capitol...imagine that! And as I turned onto Spout Run on my return drive home, I saw a huge golden raptor flying across the road. I don't know what it was. It was SO big. At first I thought it was one of the bald eagles, but it was the wrong color: all golden. I don't think it was a red tail either, because it was a lot lighter than any red tailed hawk I've seen. Are they a different color here than they are in Texas?

This is so thrilling! So many raptors, so little time to see them!

Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint. It's supposed to be beautiful again. I hope that we will be able to sit outside on the front porch and enjoy the weather while we paint our watercolors. And wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the eagles or a hawk flew by just for us?

Some Updates

2009-03-31T21:45:00.003-04:00

First update is in regards to Wolfie: Daily is beside himself with grief. I have never seen a cat so depressed and lethargic. The first couple of days, he tried desperately to escape the house. I think he was absolutely certain he would find Wolfie outside somewhere. Then he gave that up and commenced wandering from room to room plaintively calling. Those two cats have been together every day for the past 6 or 7 years. And now Daily is miserably lonely. That makes me very sad.

How is Kira handling it? She doesn't seem to care one way or another. It's like she's the princess and it's all about her. What's one cat more or less? But that may not be fair. She keeps checking on Daily. She licks him on the head and lightly nibbles him with her front teeth. So, maybe I'm not reading her right. Maybe she really does miss Wolfie. It just doesn't show the same way.

Second update is regarding Kira. When we got her a year ago, she had major physical and psychological issues. For the first three months, we had to clean up after her every single day, sometimes twice a day. It was like she didn't know how to use the outdoors for her bathroom needs. Now, she is so meticulous that she uses the same part of the yard every day. And she will come to us and sit in front of us and look us in the eyes when she needs to go outside. She is very smart. When we got her, she weighed 58 pounds, and her lips were white and the lower ones hung down significantly. Now, she weighs 63 pounds...it doesn't seem like a huge weight gain and it certainly isn't (the vet thinks she should weigh about 90 pounds), but there have been other changes. We feed her four cups of food a day, the amount called for to feed a 90 pound dog...she eats it all, but to no avail. She simply has a super fast metabolism (for which I am jealous). However, she is now more muscular, and much stronger, and her lips are back in place and the right color. Her coat is beautiful. She holds her head up and wags her tail often. She is definitely OUR dog now. We have cleared up the nightly barking and whining (actually, I think the cats helped her with that by keeping her company). She comes immediately when called. She gets a lot of exercise, and does not spend all her time racing from front door to back door and barking at everyone who passes. When we are all home together, she goes to her cushion in the living room, and stays there content just to be with us. What a beautiful dog. And probably the gentlest dog I have ever known. The other day, I put my whole hand in her mouth and she just licked me. I would NEVER have dreamed of doing that with Ziggy. If I had, I would not be playing the piano any more. So, Kira has made herself very much a part of our lives. She is amazing.

Third update: my bald eagles. I believe that the bald eagles I saw in the nest near our house at the end of last year moved away and started building a nest south of Alexandria in December or January. The nest has been empty. And now it is probably a little late in the season for any eagles to move into it. Occasionally, I see a big beautiful bald eagle flying overhead, but I am not so sure it is one of the two I saw on the nest at the end of last year. This morning, on the drive in, I looked up at the big nest and thought I saw the outline of an eagle. Yes, traffic was thick, but I could not help but look again, and there she was, perched on the side of the nest, as big and beautiful a bald eagle as she should be. What is it about those birds??? I absolutely love them. I don't know if she was checking the nest out as a possible new aerie...but wouldn't it be NICE???

Fourth update: the continuing saga of "Operation Project Room." It is so much easier to move around that room now. It is actually a pleasant place to spend time, on the computer, playing with beads, painting water colors, looking out the window at all the "city wildlife" (squirrels, birds, chipmunks, occasional hawks and eagles, foxes, and even a couple of times a deer or two!). I like it. Of course, I still have about eight file boxes to go through, but I'm not feeling so stressed about the paperwork now.

And now I find myself reading and playing the piano. Right now, I am reading Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dynamiter" in paper format (not on the pony). I didn't even know he had written such a book. But I am enjoying it, even with the rather dense writing.
I'm also playing the piano again. I had it tuned last week, and now that the house is staying clean (with Sara's care), I feel like playing. I'm still working on the Handel Sarabande and today picked up my copy of the Moonlight Sonata. I'd like to relearn that. Interestingly, the first time I played it, I did a MUCH better job than the next four or five times. That's strange.

Ok, so I'm really rambling. I'll quit now.

Quality of Life

2009-03-29T16:58:00.002-04:00

Girl from Texas left a comment on my March 26 entry, saying that there was such a thing as quality of living, and that it was a very important variable in the decision as to when to euthanize a pet.

It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.

What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.

I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?

I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.

I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.

I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.

And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.

Wolfie

2009-03-29T16:47:00.004-04:00

Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot
July 6, 1994 -- March 26, 2009

Remind me, please, why we have animals?

2009-03-26T14:45:00.000-04:00

I need to be reminded of what they add to our lives…other than pain of loss, which is what I am feeling right now. I am very sad.

Yesterday, when I got home, and immediately after letting Kira out to do her business, I saw (rather than heard) Wolfie struggling in the kitchen. He was crouched down, with his neck stretched out, and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was desperately struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and called our vet’s office to say I was watching a cat suffocate before my eyes. “Bring him in.” Usually, he meows during the drive to and from the vet, but yesterday night he couldn’t get enough air to say anything. As soon as I got him in, they took him back and started him on oxygen, which eased his breathing somewhat.

Wolfie has had asthma for the past 8 or 9 years. They suggested steroids when it started, but my research on steroids made me VERY suspect. If steroids are bad for humans, why would they be any better for cats? They weaken the kidneys and are bad for the heart. He would have to be given a pill every morning and every evening, and he absolutely HATES pills. Daily is a dream when it comes to pills, but Wolfie (as sweet as he is), fights every inch of the way. Imagine forcing a pill down that cat’s throat every day for the past 8 years…

Well, the asthma caught up with him yesterday. The vet immediately started him on oxygen and gave him albuterol and steroids and antibiotics. They wanted to keep him for observation, so I went back to see him, and when I petted him he leaned back into my hand, and looked so much more comfortable with the oxygen, which the technician was holding up to his face. Then they called me at 9:00 p.m. and said he really needed to be watched during the night and could we take him to a 24-hour facility (about 20 miles away). We paid our $300 there and took him to the emergency clinic, where they immediately put him in an oxygen cage. The vet told us that the x-ray of his chest showed a collapsed lung, and that he has a heart murmur, as well as a secondary infection along with the asthma.

But this is what is so difficult for us right now: when we were kids, vets didn’t do all these heroics to save family pets. They just said: “well, it’s time to let him go.” But now, vets have their own form of “Hippocratic oath” and will try to do anything to save an animal, regardless of the long-range outcome. This vet was really good when it came to trying to save Wolfie. She said, keep him on oxygen for three days, let the antibiotics take effect on the secondary infection, let the steroids help get rid of the asthma, and see if he doesn’t come around. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Can we inflate the collapsed lung, I ask. Well, no, it would be too dangerous. Then she adds that what actually looks like a collapsed lung may be pneumonia (which is not really as common in cats as you might think). Or, it may be blockage due to the asthma. Will he be able to come off of the oxygen in a couple of days? Well, we hope so. Will we be able to get rid of the asthma with the steroids? That is the plan and the hope. How much to leave him over night? $1500! (OMG) Three days? $4500 (Triple OMG). What happens after three days if he is not able to get off of the oxygen? We can reassess the options then.

Wow! Smack me in the face! OK, so, now we have a 15-year-old cat, with a collapsed lung, heart murmur, severe asthma, and an inability to breathe without oxygen. If we clear up the asthma, how long will do we think that will last? Unknown. So, in other words, I could come home someday and see him gasping like a fish again, or worse, find a poor little cat body with a horrific look on its face from suffocating to death. Do we leave him there, in the comfort of an oxygen cage for however long it takes, or do we take him home and try to administer an albuterol inhaler when he has trouble breathing? Well, no, you can’t take the albuterol home because it causes stress on the heart and he needs to be monitored.

In the end, we left him over night, at a negotiated much-reduced cost. This morning at 5:00, the vet tried to take him off of the oxygen for 30 minutes, and he went into breathing distress. H and I discussed the situation. Feeling like total and complete heels, we decided it was time to let him go. We phoned the emergency vet with our decision. But when H got to the emergency clinic (I simply could not accompany him, after my experience with Ziggy last March), they had Wolfie in the crate, ready to be brought home to face another day. I think they did not want to be the ones to put him to sleep…sending us a clear message of their displeasure with us, maybe? H called me when he got to the house and said Woofums was in terrible distress. Kira and Daily were very upset…they knew Wolfie was in bad shape. H said he understood what I had felt yesterday. It brought tears to his eyes. In fact, I have tears in mine right now with the memory. So he took Wolfie to our regular vet to do the sad final deed. He says that by the time he got there, Wolfie was laying on his side with his head (wet from Kira’s administrations) against the side of the carrier, struggling. The vet took one look at him and said he looked much worse than he had yesterday, before the oxygen. Personally, I think the oxygen may have helped him in the short run, but it created a dependency that made him worse in the long run.

We could have done what the emergency vet suggested: we could have spent a lot of money keeping him going in an oxygen cage for a week or so (ka-ching, ka-ching), in the hopes that we would clear up the infection, might clear up the asthma (not likely, considering that he has had it at least 8 years), perhaps address the heart murmur, maybe clear the collapsed lung (if it is pneumonia). And then who knows how long he would live after all that, my geriatric little cat?

This morning, when we were discussing all the “options,” I told H that I just could not make the decision, and would he please make it for me (you know what decision I was talking about, of course). He said “will you still love me after I do?” Heck, I think I love him even more for having done it and keeping me from having to say the obvious. I mean, I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted HIM to take responsibility for but could not bring myself to cast the deciding vote. What a wimp I am. H did it.

So, my sweet tomato-snatching Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot (named by my Elusive Offspring, and you will recognize my blog name) is gone now. At lunch, my friend Janet and I toasted our cats and their ability to give us years of great pleasure, ending with the sharp pain of loss. I enjoyed my 15 years of the Wolfman. I hope he’s breathing easy and chasing butterflies in that great kitty heaven above.

Excellent Artsy Weekend

2009-03-23T16:58:00.008-04:00

Last week was a rough one at work. On one of the days, I came in early to get ready for an early meeting, went to that meeting and went back to my office to start to send an e-mail to the team, while I was doing that someone called and I started an e-mail related to the call, while I was doing that someone came into my office and I started yet another e-mail...answered phone calls, went to discuss options with people in my cases. Those three e-mails, all started before 11:00 in the morning, did not get sent until around 1:30, at which time I was able to get lunch. The day was like that. Needless to say, I was SO ready for my weekend, and it did not disappoint.

Saturday, I went to the movie theater with my friend Janet to see the High Def showing of the Met's matinee performance of La Sonambula, a Bellini bel canto opera. I had never seen (or heard) it before, so it was a new experience for me. The music was beautiful, but the story was quite a bit more melodramatic than the usual opera. It did not turn me off, of course. I still enjoyed it immensely. Natalie Dessay and Juan Diego Florez played the leading roles, and they are both beautiful people with beautiful voices.

After the opera, Janet and I went to dinner and talked about music, books, poetry, stitching, art, trips to foreign lands, and had a very nice time. The opera started at 1:00 in the afternoon and we were finished with dinner by 6:00, so I got home early enough to tell my favorite husband there was still time to go out and get my copy of the Twilight DVD... hehehehe. Which we did. Good man. And then we settled in to watch it. We each got a beverage of choice -- H had Scotch, of course, and I had something called "blueberry tea" which my friend Mary taught me to make. There is no blueberry in this concoction. There is hot tea (I use chai tea) and a shot of amareto and a shot of Cointreau...and it's very yummy. And air popped popcorn. Lights out. OK, so it's a movie about teenage love, with vampires in it. When it was finished, H says to me: "Well, it was not as stupid as you led me to believe. It was actually rather good." Hah! I led him to believe it was stupid??? I don't THINK so! I don't think I ever said it was stupid. Maybe my elusive offspring told him that. Maybe he got the idea from listening to me and my friends acting sheepish about enjoying the books and the movie, um, multiple times. I mean, I did manage to see it four times in the theater, but that's because different friends needed someone to go with them, and I'm such an amenable friend. OK, so it was a good Saturday night.

Sunday, I had breakfast with my friend Nancy, while H played golf with Steve. Then I went with Janet to hear a wonderful piano recital by Olga Kern. She was amazing! She started the first half with a Haydn sonata and the Brahms variations on a theme from Paganini (lots of composers played with that theme...Rachmaninoff and Liszt included).
After he intermission, she was supposed to start with Chopin, but she said "There will be a slight change in the program. I think that no piano concert can be complete without Rachmaninoff so I will be playing the Second Sonata." Slight change??? Wow! I was so excited. I almost thought she had been listening to me during the intermission when I said to Janet that I was sorry that there was no Rachmaninoff on the agenda (my all time favorite composer, with Beethoven almost neck and neck). I was delighted with the change. Of course, I love Chopin, too, but given the choice, Rachmaninoff would always win for me. The audience did not seem disappointed either. Clearly, she loves Rachmaninoff, too. She played with such passion...I think there was one point where she was almost in tears herself. Cool! Then she ended with Liszt's Rhapsodie Espagnole (which also includes the Paganini theme). She did three encores...first, she played "Sparkle" (I think the composer may be Chen Yi), which I had never heard before. Then she played a Rachmaninoff piano/cello sonata with the president of the Washington Performing Arts Society (he appears to be a cellist, and a rather good one at that), and then she finished with another of my favorites, since I was a kid: the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 (another Liszt). That was a real crowd pleaser...of course.

Very powerful and impressive. I'm not trying to be sexist when I say that I rarely hear women play with such strength...although our seats were on the wrong side of the piano and we could not see her hands as she played (and her fingers FLEW), I waited to see her hands. They are not long, elegant fingers. She has muscular hands and fingers and I would liken her hands to those of a farm girl more than a model. Very strong. Very controlled. I am always impressed by someone who can play Liszt...supposedly, each of his hands spanned twelve piano keys! I don't know if that's true, but I can barely get nine. Stupid short fingers. If you look at a photo of Liszt, you can see that he has very long fingers.

Back to Olga Kern. She's not only extremely talented (the first woman to win the Van Cliburn Competition in 30 years), but she is beautiful. She came onto the stage wearing a strapless form-fitting teal gown that flared like a flamenco dress below the knees. What a flat stomach! Arghhh. (OK I'm jealous of a woman who can play the piano like that, and LOOK so damned gorgeous at the same time). After the intermission, she surprised us by coming onto the stage in a golden ensemble, again very form fitting, with bits of ostrich feathers here and there on the long tight skirt. It was beautiful. Granted, I would have been impressed JUST to hear her...but I'm glad I got to see her, too.

OK, so I was obviously more impressed by the piano recital than the opera...but that happens. I have not been able to stop thinking about it.

We went out to dinner after the concert, and I got home somewhere between 8 and 8:30...at which point I immediately went back to reading "The Green Years" (the A.H. Cronin book my friend Tracy recommended). I had a hard time putting it down to go to sleep, and when I woke this morning at 6:00, I decided I just had to finish it before I went to work. Took me about 45 minutes. It was a good book. It put me in mind of Angela's Ashes, but I liked it so much better because the character was not completely down all the time. I don't expect to ever read Angela's Ashes again, but I could see myself reading The Green Years again some day. But first, I have SO many other books on my reading list.

I'm in the mood for Liszt...I think I will play "Totentanz." On the iPod, silly, not on the piano. Sigh...

Working and Playing

2009-03-16T22:59:00.002-04:00

I have been really working hard at the office lately. It's very stressful, and yet satisfying. That seems strange to me, a sort of dichotomy. I have a settlement/technical conference tomorrow, so I decided to get in VERY early this morning so I could go through documents and filings to be really prepared, and I think I am. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. I'd really like to achieve a settlement in this case. It's been a difficult one, with aggressive personalities and clashing ideas. Still, it really should settle.

But, in addition to working full days (and some evenings and weekends as well), I have managed to fit in a lot of reading, stitching, piano playing and socializing. I can't believe how many books I have read since I got my pony (Kindle). On the Kindle, I read all three "Dexter" books (about the serial killer who only kills serial killers). I liked the first book, felt lukewarm about the second, and really didn't care for the third. On the other hand, I absolutely love the television series (on Showtime). I also finished three more Alexander Kent (Bolitho) novels, and a book called "Beat the Reaper" by Josh Bazell. That last book was all right. I think it had a lot more potential than it actually realized (this one was a book about a mob hitman who became a doctor to try to hide from his past, unsuccessfully, I might add). I will admit that it was very humorous, with a clever turn of phrase. After all that blood and gore, I decided I needed something a lot more gentle. So I read Anne of Green Gables, and I am currently reading Anne of Avonlea. All that on the Kindle. But of course, the Kindle has not taken me away from the beloved paper books. I read a couple of Alexander Kent novels and Life With Father (Clarence Day), which I've read a couple of times and absolutely love. It's worth reading many times over. I am currently reading a very good book by A.H. Cronin, called The Green Years, recommended by my best friend Tracy. The interesting thing is that I now find myself reading two books at the same time...one on the Kindle and one in paper. It is wonderful to escape into another world.

I've also been stitching some nice needlepoint pieces. I will photograph some and post them soon. I usually stitch in the evening, while watching television...Chuck or CSI or some such. Which is interesting. Although I'm focusing on the stitching, I nevertheless enjoy the show. If a few weeks later a show is repeated, I usually find myself thinking, oh, I haven't seen this one yet...that's because I probably haven't seen it...I listened to it while stitching. So it's a new experience for me to actually watch it.

Then, last week, I sat down at the piano and started playing again. I was inspired by Blue Keys to start playing. I have not played in years and, wow, my poor fingers know it! Once upon a time, I was very good. But now, I find myself stumbling around over the keyboard, hitting the wrong keys, timing off, fingering off. And forget theory! Still, I am enjoying my little bit of time at the piano. Right now, I am re-learning Handel's Sarabande...it's so dramatic for a baroque piece. I need to get the piano tuned soon.

All this and my project room, too. My back is really sore from moving boxes and reorganizing...

So, my life is very rich right now. But please excuse me while I return to The Green Years for a half an hour before going to bed.

My Interview with RunningMyMassOff

2009-03-08T00:05:00.003-05:00

About a month ago, RunningMyMassOff sent me some questions to "interview me" and finally I am posting my answers. Being interviewed like this is very interesting. If you'd like me to interview you, just ask, and I'll think up some questions for you. Then you can post the questions and answers on your blog...in the meantime, here are RMMO's questions and my answers.

1. What has been the biggest challenge/obstacle in your life and what did you do to overcome it?
The biggest challenge…probably deciding what I want to be when I grow up… this is an ongoing problem. I really love what I do. I am probably exactly where I should be…a government litigator. I worked for two different large law firms and ultimately left. I did not like their politics of doing business. The interesting billing schemes (and yes, I mean schemes). The egos. The sleaze factor. The social deviates (my favorite husband’s term). Although I took a giant pay cut to return to the government, I knew I really was going where I belonged…as a public interest lawyer. I like winning cases, but I really feel successful when my cases settle, without the need for costly litigation. After all is said and done, though, I think I would love to retire early (or to be more realistic I should say retire late, now that the economy has tanked so badly, and my investments with it) and spend my time in creative endeavors, especially painting little watercolors (I like miniatures). And designing needlework. And art jewelry. Creative stuff.

2. What has been the favorite performance you've seen (opera, symphony, musical, play, etc.) and why did it make such an impact on you?
I would have to say that my favorite performance (and this is going to sound corny) would be any performance by my son, whether singing or acting, and although he was really good in so many plays, my all time favorite is the time he played/sang the part of the Major General in his high school’s production of Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Pirates of Penzance.” I know I’m his mom and I’m biased, but he really was probably the handsomest Major General in the history of the musical…I mean, the Major General is supposed to be an old grey-bearded guy, but not this time. The elusive one was quite striking with his curly ginger hair and deep sideburns, and what a lovely voice. I absolutely love to hear him sing. Of course, I enjoy other performances, too…plays, operas, musicals, movies…I like entertainment. And I like to be entertained. Today, I went with my friend Janet to see a simulcast of the Met's production of "Madama Butterfly" and it was absolutely beautiful. I love Puccini. I think I have probably said that before...

3. If you were to select a novel/series in which you could be a character (either an existing character or a new one), what novel/series would it be and why?
It would definitely have to be a Jane Austen book, and probably Emma or Elizabeth Bennett. Emma had a lively mind, and was terribly bored, I think, and therefore spent her time trying to play matchmaker. Because she succeeded at it one time, she was sure she could match anyone anywhere, and almost messed up her own future. Elizabeth Bennett was a great character because she was so feisty, and at the same time very self-possessed. Of course, I would want to be a character with lots of money, because if I had to live back then, I really wouldn't want to spend my time on the day-to-day necessities of life. On the other hand, I would not want to live then. Without the internet? Without cellphones (or any phones for that matter). Without cars and airplanes? Or even bicycles at that point! Without CDs or iPods??? Or radios or television (see, I really do like to be entertained). No electricity. No air conditioning! Yikes, I think I will stay right here and now…

4. What do you miss most about living in Texas?
I miss my family very much. The warm weather. The slower, more relaxed atmosphere (living in the DC area can be rough), but I have to admit that to me it feels even more relaxed in LA! The ability to get out and do stuff. Horses and western riding. Houston. The proud Texas history. Yet, even as I say that, I believe that I am no longer a Texan. I have been away so long that I don’t think I would be comfortable living in Texas any more. I love living here now. I have Potomac fever and it’s never gone away.

5. If you could choose any dream vacation (money not an issue), where would you go, who would you take with you, and what would you do?
This is a difficult one. If money were no object, my dream vacation would be to take several months and visit lots of countries, starting with Scotland, England and Ireland, then France and Germany and Spain and Italy. I would love to take a cruise of the fiords in Norway. I'd bring my little paint set with me everywhere, and my wonderful digital camera. There were no digital cameras in Jane Austen's time.

So, those are my answers to the interview. Remember, if you want to be interviewed, let me know, and I'll come up with some questions. It may take me a little while, but be patient.

Operation: Project Room/Guest Room

2009-03-03T18:19:00.003-05:00

I know it's been a long time since I have written. The week after Valentine's Day, I got very sick with some sort of sinus infection/flu/cold thingy and completely LOST four and a half entire days. I mean LOST those days entirely, and the infection/whatever actually lasted about a week, making it hard to accomplish anything. Then I got very involved in trying to reclaim the "project room/guest room" from the disaster it had become. For some time now I have called it the "explosion room." It's the place I would throw stuff to get it out of the way when people came over for a visit, or when the cleaning lady came (I always told her to ignore that room), or any other number of things would cause me to make a mess of that room. And when my sister (Girl from Texas) came for Christmas, I stuck her in that room...how awful of me! She, nice person that she is, never complained. But now things will be different! She will have a very nice accommodation.

Last Thursday, my favorite husband took me to Ikea, where we found two wonderful white bookshelves, with glass doors, both six feet tall and so roomy. All of my projects have been organized neatly in those bookshelves. We are talking about a lot of different kinds of project, from memory books to painting to beading to knitting to needlepointing and sewing, and any number of fun creative activities to entertain an active mind. I still have about a dozen boxes of papers and stuff to go through, and that will happen slowly over time, but I filled three boxes and two bags with stuff for Good Will, shredded some paperwork (but not enough), organized projects that can be finished quickly, and cleaned my desk, which makes me want to spend more time in this room!

Today, Sara, my cleaning lady, came. I love my cleaning lady. I told her today that I love to see her because she always makes me feel so good about my space. I think she should get a cleaning lady for HER house. Then she will know just how happy she makes people. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I'm waxing poetic...you'd think I'd overdosed on caffeine the way I am going on right now, but it is simply that I am in a good mood because the house is really coming together. For the first time in at least eight years (since we started renovating this old house of ours).

The next post will be my answers to an interview I got from "Running My Mass Off" a few weeks ago. I started answering the questions, but have not finished yet. Stay tuned. This interviewing thing is fun.

Gotta go. Must start going through some more boxes...and finishing some of these pending projects.

Menopausal Tourette Syndrome

2009-02-09T22:04:00.006-05:00

It's been a long time. I have been complaining that my time has not been my own lately. Every weekend has been taken up with doing stuff for other people. Even when I thought I was going to have my day off this past Friday, it turns out that I ended up with a new case and spent 3 hours on the computer, working from home...longer, actually, counting the time I worked OFF the computer.

So I have decided I have "Menopausal Tourettes." I'll explain. Friends of mine, who are ahead of me in the process of life, have warned me of what to expect. They tell me: "Oh, just you wait for the hot flashes (or power surges as one friend says)." Another says "You're going to LOVE the night sweats" (said with acidic sarcasm). Your hair will fall out (my hair is fine, thank you very much). Your skin will dry up (I am grateful for good moisturizers). You'll gain weight, they say (I weigh the same as I have for three years now, and I would STILL like to lose 30 pounds). But no one, absolutely NO ONE, told me about this problem of what I call "Menopausal Tourette Syndrome."

A week ago, I was at a board meeting...it was just a needlepoint guild board meeting, for goodness sake. Nothing of mind boggling importance. Just a needlepoint board meeting. Needlepoint, get it? Until May, I am Secretary (I have held other positions on the board as well). At this meeting, for some reason, every item we talked about caused major contentious discussions among us. It was ridiculous. Very annoying. I was exhausted. Finally, as people left, we were down to three of us, including the president (a friend), at whose house we were meeting. We started discussing some issue, and one thing led to another and I was trying to make a point and the president kept interrupting me, and finally she said: "No more discussion. I've decided the issue and what I say goes" (or something to that effect).

Now, I'm usually a very calm, easy-going person, with lots of patience. But that response made me see red. I rage inside when people talk over me or refuse to allow me to finish a thought. I looked at her and said calmly (but not easy-goingly): "F... You." Nothing more. Menopausal Tourettes. I was actually quite mortified! Where the F did that come from!!! But she stood up and pointed at the door and said: "Leave this house!" At which point, I stood up and put everything in my bag to leave. "I don't like that language," she says. Now, do I simply apologize to her for using offensive language? No. Of course not. Instead, I say, "It's just a F-ing word." Oops. Before she can say anything, my other friend says..."sit down, both of you." "No," I say, "the hostess has asked me to leave, as is her right. I'm leaving." Eventually, everyone calms down and we end up sitting at the table, finishing the discussion. I was physically and mentally drained. The nice thing about this friend is that she is very forgiving and when we were finished with the meeting I looked at her and grinned and said "Now, may I give you a hug?" She laughed, we hugged and all was good. That was about 10 days ago. Tonight I saw her and you'd never guess anything had happened.

What I really love is this: as I said, I was mortified by my outburst, and I didn't want to tell my husband what I had said to her. I felt so ashamed! That lasted about an hour after I got home. Then I told him. Sheepishly. What do you think he did? He burst out laughing and said "I'm surprised it's taken you this long!" He freakin' laughed! I was very surprised by that response. So, later, I told my Elusive Offspring (who was home on break until this past Saturday) and his friend. Do you know what their response was? They burst out laughing. What is it about men, I wondered, that they burst out laughing at the idea of my saying "F you" to someone. Well, they say, it's funny to them because men always do that to each other. Do you know, I think that's true. The other funny thing to them is: "it's the last thing I expected you to tell us that you said."

But see? I've always had this reputation as a gracious southern lady, always saying nice things to people, never showing annoyance or frustration. I've always been the mediator, bringing people together. But now what? Menopausal tourettes. Dragon lady with flaming red hair. Oh, the shame of it all!

Inauguration Woes

2009-01-16T23:21:00.005-05:00

I love Washington DC. It is a beautiful city. I love the monuments and the river and the military and even the tourists. But I can say that having witnessed the preparations for the Inauguration, I am happy that the Powers That Be decided to give a holiday to federal workers in the immediate area. The past two weeks, and especially the past week, have been a nightmare as far as getting out of the city is concerned. Normally, I can get home in 30 minutes, from office garage to my house, and a little over half of that time is in the city. Lately, however, it has taken me 30 minutes just to get from the office garage to the Potomac River, and then another 15-20 minutes to get home from there. Sometimes longer. For people who live in Virginia, all the main bridges will be closed to regular traffic on Inauguration Day, which means you could not get to work by car. And with 2-4 million people expected for the various Inauguration events, you can bet Metro will be too crowded and in demand to get to work that way. Same for buses, cabs, limos. And so, as you can see, I am glad to be off on Tuesday. And of course, Monday is also a holiday (MLK Day).

Only, my sister (Girl from Texas) will be here with her friend to witness this historic event. They want to go downtown for it. It will be bitterly cold (although not as cold as it was for Reagan's 1985 Inauguration), there will be more people than ever in history (if the predictions are to be believed), there probably won't be quite enough porta-potties, and there will be no easy way in or out of the city. People will be competing for the warmth of the museums (I know how those museums crowd up on the Forth of July, and that's usually attended by substantially fewer people than a million). So. I don't want to go. I told her I hoped she didn't mind if I stayed home in the warmth of my house and watched everything in high definition on my nice big screen TV (last year's Christmas gift to ourselves), and drink champagne and pop popcorn, and then maybe go outside later to watch any fireworks there might be...if there are any (I seem to remember fireworks for Elder Bush). My favorite husband says he will go along because he doesn't want to leave them to fend for themselves. He knows the city quite well. And if and when they want to get home, he will be able to show them the way. It's a three to six mile walk from our house, depending on whether they can cross Teddy Roosevelt Bridge or Memorial Bridge.

I'll be very interested to see if we get the predicted crowds...

Squirrely Story

2009-01-13T11:09:00.003-05:00

I cannot resist posting this funny story that my favorite husband found on the Diesel Truck Resource website some time ago. I think it is wonderful.

Biker vs. Squirrel
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect...

I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an on coming car, a brown, furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and it must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves. Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt!

I was pretty sure the scream was Squirrel for "Bonzai!" or maybe "Die, you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular... He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Twisted Evil. Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of my throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved, not improved at all.

His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can have only one result.

Torque.

This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well... I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration, I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle...my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time, the squirrel decided I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.

As the face plate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.

Now picture a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large, puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.

Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black-and-chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade into your police car.

I heard screams.

This time they weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really...Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street aiming a riot gun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.

That was one thing. The other?

Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car...but it was all his.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.

Holiday Haitus

2009-01-10T22:51:00.003-05:00

Gosh! I can't believe how long it has been since I have updated my blog or even read my favorite blogs. December was a crazy month for me, with the end of year office crazies, and my sister visiting for Christmas (yippee!), and the elusive offspring home for Christmas (double yippee!), and all the preparations and parties, and then suddenly the new year is on us, and I'm trying to get back into the swing of it all. There is so much I want to write about, but I will not do all of it. I'll get back into writing slowly. I want to read everyone else's blogs first.

I will say that I did indeed get my "pony"...the Kindle. And I have already downloaded so many books and finished reading a couple, too. My enthusiasm for the Kindle is responsible for at least two of my colleagues' getting it for Christmas, too! And they love it as well. All of us agree that it will not replace our physical books (who could ever give up paper books??), but it is a very nice little supplement.

On Being Well Read

2008-12-07T21:34:00.002-05:00

The Elusive Offspring put this list on his LJ, with the comment that the average person has read only 6 of the "to 100" books printed. He says to highlight the ones you've read, and italicize the ones you plan to read. I'm going to try this...

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible (some of it)
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 1984 - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman (Golden Compass, etc.)
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (all 36 plays, most sonnets)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot (can't remember!)
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh (Guess the miniseries doesn't count)
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins (My copy is on a shelf, not read yet)
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom (I read Just One More Day)
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

I'm fascinated more by what I have NOT read than what I have read...for example, Ulysses and Jude the Obscure! What the--!
Right now, I am reading all of the Alexander Kent "Bolitho" series. Why? Heaven knows. Probably because they are easier to understand than the Patrick O'Neil series, of which I have managed to get through three. After I finish with the 27 Bolitho books (all checked out from the library), I have a pile of other books to read, including The Other Boleyn Girl and Daughter of Fortune...and did I mention that I REALLY, REALLY want a Kindle for Christmas?

The Eagle Has Landed (in a nest)

2008-12-03T23:33:00.003-05:00

I don't know why this gives me such an unbelievable thrill, but this morning on my drive to work, I saw a huge bald eagle soaring overhead. I'm lucky I didn't wreck the car in my excitement. I love birds of prey, but especially bald eagles. It was so big! Then it flew into the top of a tree, onto a gigantic nest. Yes, there is a giant eagle's nest right there along the Potomac. The neat thing was seeing our national bird, and then across the river, seeing the great landmarks of DC. Naw. Forget the landmarks...it's all about the eagle. A truly is a beautiful creature. Damn!

A Great Sense of Well Being

2008-11-26T22:59:00.004-05:00

Usually, every year when we get our cost-of-living raise, I immediately put it in Thrift Savings. That way, I never had it, and I don’t miss it. This year, with my Thrift Savings depleted more than I could have imagined, I have decided not to put my COL into TSP. Instead, I am planning to spend it on something that makes me feel REALLY good. I hired someone to clean my house. Someone I have seen around for two decades. She has worked for four neighbors who have lived in this neighborhood longer than we have. She remembers when the elusive offspring (yes, him) was a baby.

She came yesterday and brought her sister with her. Her plan is a good one: This week, focus on a deep cleaning of the first floor, which suffers from 7 years of construction dust. Next week, clean the first floor and deep clean the second and third floors. It’s a good plan, but I’m not sure how it will work out. I have a project room that I call “the explosion.” It’s where I dump stuff I don’t want anyone to see (and it’s a terrible mess). I am working on cleaning it out, organizing everything. But it is by no means ready for a maid. The master bedroom WAS ready, but I’m in the process of going through my closets and drawers trying to get rid of stuff. Also, I’ve started to gather Christmas presents in that room. I think I may have her hold off on the Explosion room and the master bedroom.

But it is amazing how good I feel about the first floor right now. It took both of them four hours to clean the living room, the dining room, the family room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. This house is a hundred years old, but not large. It’s just the right size as far as I am concerned. At least it will be when I have finished clearing out all the rooms of 24 years of accumulation. The downstairs looks fantastic. S and her sister scrubbed the kitchen, including walls and ceilings and shelves so that it literally sparkles! Wow! And all the wooden surfaces shine. After they left, I sat down in the living room and looked at the floors. Not a speck of dust, or dog fur to be found. The antique light fixture in the living room is beautiful again!

When S and her sister left yesterday, I hugged them and said they had made me feel fantastic. After the mess made by the first round of remodeling, I had given up trying to keep it under control. Then it just got away from me. And then it was just too overwhelming to contemplate. S has systems. She tackled the job with true gusto! I did a few things downstairs to help (and to make sure they understood how I would like things done), and then I got out of their hair and went upstairs to sort. I could hear them downstairs, talking (mostly in Spanish, a very little of which I understood, but didn’t care), and every once in a while I could hear S laugh. She has the most delightful laugh I have ever heard. I am serious about that! Every time she laughed, I smiled.

Kira wandered around them, even while they vacuumed, unconcerned (although some time I will tell the story about her and the stick). They absolutely loved Kira. Everyone loves Kira.

Anyway, I have two feelings. When I am downstairs in my beautiful, clean, well arranged first floor, I am unbelievably serene. When I am upstairs amidst the mess I have made in my efforts to get this house under control, I am depressed. I want to get to where I have that sense of well-being everywhere in my house. It will happen.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It is probably my favorite holiday of the year. It's all about family, friends, fun and food. My sister says she even likes it better than her birthday. I agree. I like it better than her birthday, too. (hehehe)

OK, Happy Thanksgiving!

All I Want For Christmas

2008-11-20T16:09:00.002-05:00

There is only one thing I want for Christmas and it’s very expensive. No, not world peace…I’ve wished for that every year and never gotten it, so I have no expectations of world peace for Christmas. No, it’s not diamonds. Or a big fancy house. Or a different job. I like my life. BUT…I want one thing for Christmas. And, as I mentioned, it’s expensive.

It’s a Kindle…you know, the electronic book reader by Amazon.com. It is $350! And I want it. I love the idea of being able to carry many books at once. I will still want my classic hard books (like all my Jane Austen books, and my poetry, and all the special first editions, etc.). I will certainly still want to hold an actual book in my hands (although the Kindle FEELS like a real book). But this would be for all those paperback books I read and then have to donate to Good Will or find a friend who would like to read them or leave them in the office kitchen for anyone who wants them, all because I don’t have room on my bookshelf. I save my bookshelf space for books I love. A Kindle will hold 150 books! And as it gets full, you can put the books on a ScanDisk or on your computer and then turn around and put more books on the Kindle. I can get every Anthony Trollope book, short story, poem ever published in one download for under $5! How great is that! Same for Mark Twain. I’d still have my hard copies, but I could carry them with me on the Kindle when I travel. I already have a list of books I want to get for it. I really, really want a Kindle. I don’t want anything else. Well, I want world peace, but you know how that goes. Just a little ol’ Kindle.

I told my husband that, if I didn’t get a Kindle for Christmas, it would be the saddest, most disappointing Christmas since I didn’t get that pony.

Do you think I was a little … um … unsubtle?

Justice for All

2008-11-19T10:15:00.003-05:00

The Texas State Bar did something very clever. Last year, they sponsored a YouTube contest and invited entries with the theme of justice for all. My favorite video is called “Like Justice for Chocolate” and it is amazing. You should watch this 3-minute video.

The last sentence says it all: “It’s easy to make the wrong choice when you don’t understand what you’re giving up.” Beautifully said.

A Day of Culture

2008-11-16T08:25:00.007-05:00

What a day I had Saturday! Leaving my favorite husband at home to do guy things (of course, he likes culture, too, but this was a "Girl's Day Out"), I got to Janet's at 9:30 a.m. and we immediately went to the Strathmore Museum for the Miniatures Collectors' opening. I am astounded by the ability of some artists to create such tiny, intricate paintings. And, of course, once again, I indulged myself by purchasing a beautiful little watercolor...by the same artist whose painting I bought last year! I now have five miniature paintings, collected over the last 18 years. One man who was there when the place opened has collected 200 (yes, 200!) of these paintings over the last 15 years. Janet bought a watercolor of two gray cats sunning themselves. It wasn't one of those "cutesy" paintings you see of cats. It was a beautiful study of light and shadow, with fantastic technique. If she hadn't bought it, I would have. I may have to try my own hand at painting my cats.

Anyway, we left Strathmore by noon and had a light lunch at a vegetarian Chinese restaurant in Rockville, and then headed to the Kennedy Center to hear a young new pianist from Russia, Daria Rabotkina, who is currently pursuing a doctorate from Eastman School of Music. She was very impressive, playing some extremely powerful pieces by Miaskovsky, Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev, and Tchaikovsky. The theme of the performance was the Dies Irae theme that appears in so many classical pieces (including the Liszt Totentanz and Mahler Symphony No. 2, among others). We had great seats overlooking the keyboard, nice and close. I am coming dangerously close to writing a critique, which I don't want to do, but suffice to say she was extremely powerful (oh, yes, I already said that). Of course, these kinds of pieces always impress.

We left the Kennedy Center and drove to a favorite needlework store near Mount Vernon (long drive, but fun). When we left the store, there had been a storm and the sky was gorgeous. Driving up George Washington Parkway (one of my very favorite drives), we saw the most stunningly perfect rainbow over the Potomac. It was a complete arc, and you could discern all of the colors, including purple. I really should keep a camera with me at all times. I don't know what our fascination with rainbows is, but it really got to me. I felt giddy as a child over it!

The drive to Baltimore took longer than usual, but we got there in plenty of time for our 6:30 reservation at our favorite Afghan restaurant, Helmand's. I promise not to write a review, but I do have to say the pumpkin dish was positively mouthwatering.

And then it was to the Lyric Opera House to see the Baltimore Opera Company's production of Bellini's "Norma." I love going to see an opera I have not seen before. It's great to listen to opera, but so much more fun to watch it performed. It's kind of like "collecting" performances, much like Janet's bird-watching ("birding" they call it) expeditions, where they collect bird sightings. It's more cerebral than tangible.

We got out around 11:30, it took us another 20 minutes just to get out of the garage, and then about 30 minutes to get to her house. I didn't get to bed until 1:30 a.m. It was a most excellent day. I feel very cultured. For now.

And So It Begins

2008-11-14T11:50:00.000-05:00

This morning, on my drive in, there was a man standing in the drizzle very near my office, with a sign: “Hungry. Please Help.” I didn’t have much time before the light changed, but I did have time to grab a couple of dollars worth of my parking quarters to give him. As I handed him the coins, I got a good look at him. He was probably late 20s, early 30s. Clean (in other words, new to the streets). Articulate (he spoke to me in complete sentences). Polite and grateful (clearly, he hasn’t had to deal with enough rude, uncaring people to turn bitter yet). The light changed before I could talk to him, but I wondered what brought him to this corner of Mass Avenue and Second Street. I could speculate, but why? It’s enough to know that there are more people out on the corners again.

About 15 years ago, there was a guy I saw every night on my drive home. If the light stopped me, I always gave him a little money (usually quarters, sometimes a dollar). If there weren’t a lot of cars behind me, sometimes we talked while I waited for the light. I found out that he had been an anesthesiologist, and had hit hard times. He’d had an accident (he walked with an honest limp), medical bills had piled up, he lost his job because he couldn’t work for a while, then he lost his home and everything else. He was a really nice guy. Chris was his name. He never smelled of alcohol either. I remember that over the months he started standing straighter, wearing cleaner clothing, looking hopeful. He still limped, but he looked great. Then one day he came up to my window and asked me to wish him luck because he was going on an interview that afternoon. And then I never saw him again.

I have no idea whether he got the job, or moved to another corner, or another city, or what happened to him. But I like to think he got that job and got back on his feet again.

A colleague of mine said he suspected Chris “put on a limp” to take advantage of others’ kindness, asking for money he really didn’t need. My colleague thought I was being naïve to “fall for the scam.” But I don’t agree. Why would anyone want to stand on a corner, in bad weather and nice, for everyone to look at, while they ask for money, unless they really had to do it? And really, what’s a few quarters here and there? I spend FIVE quarters on a regular cup of coffee every morning (Starbuck’s coffee is even more). I can do without a cup of coffee to give quarters to someone in need. I like to think that the quarters people gave Chris allowed him to get cleaned up and back to work again. Although I know that not all people in need will get back on their feet, isn’t it worth it to try to help when we can? I choose not to second guess the motivation of a man standing on a corner in the drizzle with a sign that says “Hungry. Please Help.” I choose to forego that first cup of coffee.

I Want To Be A Cool Septuagenarian

2008-11-13T14:19:00.001-05:00

The other night I was listening to a local radio station that plays current music, and they played a phone conversation with their “favorite listener.” She was a 70-something. With her funny, raspy voice she said: “I went to the store to buy Linkin Park CD and the sales clerk asked me if I wanted the ‘clean version’ or the ‘dirty version.’ What’s that all about?” The announcer said the “dirty version” had bad language on it. Cool Septuagenarian says: “Oh, like I’ve never heard that before!” And everyone laughs. Announcer says: “Itunes often gives you the option to buy the dirty or clean version and I usually go for the clean version.” Cool Septuagenarian says: “Well, that’s what I did.”

I love this 70-something Linkin Park fan! What else does she like??? Cold Play? Goo Goo Dolls? Cake? I wanna be a Cool Septuagenarian!

But not yet.

Civic Duty

2008-11-04T10:58:00.000-05:00

Saturday morning, H and I stood in line at the Arlington Courthouse, along with hundreds of other people, to cast our vote. The polls opened at 8:30 a.m., and we were in line by 8:40 a.m. There were hundreds of people in line before us, some of whom started the line before 6 a.m. It took us an hour and a half just to get into the building, and then another hour and a half once we were in to get to the polling machines. We were fortunate, as we got to the back of the line, to meet a really nice couple in front of us and we spent the entire time talking to them. Carl and Karen are a 30-something African-American couple, and he is Navy. His charm and incredibly quick wit made the time seem to go by much faster. He didn’t say exactly what his job was (except to say that if he told us he’d have to kill us…yeah, you know that old excuse), but he has met almost the entire cast of characters in this election drama, and it was fun to hear/see him imitate Cheney, McCain, Rumsfeld, Powell, and others. He was not disrespectful of them, just funny.

The people in line were very patient, and the poll workers were very pleasant and helpful. In all, there was an air of excitement about this election that I have never seen. When we got into the voting room, there were four electronic machines and three paper voting stations. All four of us chose the paper ballot. Then, when we left, H and I went back outside to check on the line. It was even longer than when we started, and the wait estimate was four hours. Talk about dedication! We think the line was so long because the Courthouse was the only place you could vote early, and Saturday was the last day to do so. On Election Day, there are many polling places, so I’m not sure the lines will be very bad. We’ll find out later.

I imagine that I will be up late tonight, waiting to see the results.

Bummed Out By Too Many Friends In Crisis

2008-10-29T22:28:00.006-04:00

I'm feeling really weighted down now. Not because of politics (the worst will be over by Tuesday, I hope), but by friends in crisis. The husband of one friend (Lea) fell and broke his back while I was in LA three weeks ago, and after a nine-hour session in surgery, they expected to have him sitting the following day. But he is not doing well. He is in and out of consciousness, his temperature spikes (they have him in a very cold room covered by just a towel), his lungs have filled with fluid that must be suctioned out every day (causing him a great deal of stress), he is on oxygen (he has pneumonia), he has to be turned often (and even so, has bedsores...my mother would be furious if this had happened on her watch). Before he was intubated, he was incoherent; now he couldn't talk if he wanted. And my friend is all he has. No family whatsoever. She is a former nurse and she has been a wonderful advocate for him. But it has been extremely difficult for them both. They are both very athletic, riding bicycles, sailing, kayaking. And he simply is not getting better. It is awful.

My friend, Mary, has been having trouble at the office and she is really depressed. I wish I could help her, but there is nothing I can do, except listen. My friend, JJ, has breast cancer. I have known for at least five months. And I have yet to send the card (and a little gift) I bought for her some time ago. She is undergoing chemo and I know she could use the moral support. Janet's mom has been in and out of he hospital, and in an assisted living home, for almost a year. All I can do for her is sit and listen to the difficulties of having to fly to and from Alabama every couple of weeks ($500/flight) to handle her affairs. She can't keep up with the medical bills. I have no idea what is going on with my painting buddy, Betty, because I have not called her in over a month, and she no longer has an internet hookup. She is morbidly overweight and has diabetes and trouble getting around. She suffers from depression.

I seem to be paralyzed with an inability to cope. I don't believe that I, myself, am depressed. Just overwhelmed by it all. I had such a good time in LA, not thinking about anything weighty. I had a wonderful time in Pennsylvania this weekend, too. Then I returned to this.

Well, I know one thing I can do. Right now, I am going to sign off, get up from this computer, find that card for JJ, wrap the little gift, put it in a box, and address it. At least I will have done that much. Then maybe I'll call Betty tomorrow evening.

3000 Miles

2008-10-19T22:49:00.003-04:00

Yesterday morning, I was in California. Last night, I was 3000 miles away in Arlington, Virginia. As we got out of the car in front of the house, that little fact really hit me. I had traveled 3000 miles in less than five hours. Two hundred years ago, it would have take three months to travel by horse-drawn wagon, and several days to go by train (well, that part has not changed). If you drive 500 miles a day, it would take six days to drive that distance...of course, when we drive from here to Houston (1500 miles), we usually go 700 miles per day. What an amazing thing. Five hours. Coast to coast.

This country is really wonderful. Lately, with all the politics, and the polls showing "red" states and "blue" states, I have found myself thinking about the different people in each state. New Yorkers are different from people anywhere else in the country (especially New York City New Yorkers). Texans are different, as are Californians. Washingtonians (of the DC variety) are unique, too. Hawaiians. Alaskans. All completely different from other states. It's like living on a continent of dozens of different countries. But it is the sum of the whole that makes this country great. It isn't just one state. It is all of them together. We are all Americans. OK, so now I am getting gushy. But it's that beautiful flight that does it to me. Every single time. I always have to sit by the window, so I can see the quilt patched fields, the snow-covered mountains in Colorado, the unbelievably stunning Grand Canyon, and the hills of California.

I had a great time in California. We did all the things I said we would do. And tomorrow, it's back to work for me. Vacation's over.

Hatemongering

2008-10-13T12:51:00.004-04:00

I know that I said I would not think about politics while I am here in beautiful California having a wonderful vacation, but I cannot get away from news of what is going on. I am flabbergasted by the Palin/McCain campaign. If I were still a Republican, I'd be ashamed to my core. Heck, I'm NOT a Republican and I'm ashamed for them. What are they thinking??? I recognize that not ALL Republicans agree with the hatemongering that is going on right now, but why don't they speak up about it? What does it mean that McCain's poll numbers have gone up (on the Yahoo.com page), if just a minuscule amount? I understand that the experts say that negative campaigning works (what does that say about people?), but I don't understand how this kind of despicable behavior can bring positive results for a campaign.

What happened to the McCain of 2000? Were we wrong to think he was a decent man then? Does he ever sit back and wonder how it all got so out of hand? Or does he really even care? He has no control over his followers...maybe he doesn't want to have control. Maybe he secretly likes the reaction of the crowds. Does he go back into quiet rooms and say "Wow, that was great!" or does he say "This is terrible"? Somehow, watching his complete lack of control, I don't think it is the latter. I think he believes that the continued hate rallies will give him what he wants.

Actually, my greatest fear is a terrorist attack before the elections. And it wouldn't be a foreign attack. It would be a domestic attack (probably by one of these crazy followers)...but we wouldn't know that until after Palin/McCain got elected and then it would be too late for us.

It is unbelievable that I could be so terrified now. What happened?

My next post will be more positive. Despite the above, I really am having a good time here.

The Elusive Offspring's New Toy, and a Trip to LA

2008-10-09T20:09:00.005-04:00

Following in his father's footsteps, the Elusive Offspring has a new toy...a 1989 Honda CBR 600 F-K (I like that last label). Fortunately, his dad's bike has more power...but not too much. H has a 650 Honda Nighthawk. Clearly, I am too generous with these two (hehe). Anyway, here is the bearded elusive one with the new acquisition on the streets of St Andrews:

I am leaving for LA tomorrow to visit my best friend, Tracy. I will be in gorgeous Marina del Ray for one glorious week. I will TRY not to think of politics, or my office (I busted my behind to finish drafting a filing today, which I will have to file the day I return to the office). But next week will be a true vacation. We are going to walk, shop, swim, eat healthy meals in and fancy meals out, drink wine both in and out, hang out in the hot tub, see movies, visit Catalina Island or Santa Barbara for one day, and generally pretend for one week that we are wealthy. I'm not going to think of the economic crisis because this is trip a great bargain... my airline ticket cost me only $5 because I cashed in my frequent flyer miles with the thought that the airline company may ultimately discontinue those in the wake of the economic crisis. I am staying at Tracy's place, so I don't have to pay for a hotel. And I'm not even taking annual leave, because Monday is a holiday, Friday is my regular day off, and Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday I am using my three TOAs, or (Time Off (for good behavior) Awards). I am feeling very smug.

I am taking a stunning stitching project and my paints, for those times when Tracy is working on her scripts or meeting with A&E or ABC or one of the other major production companies...and she does, indeed, have several meetings scheduled for next week. Go Tracy!

Tracy will let me use her computer from time to time, so I may be able to keep up with my blogosphere...

Bored Now

2008-10-07T23:31:00.001-04:00

Saw the second Presidential debate.

Can we vote already?????
Palease! Getting really tire of this.

The Debate

2008-10-02T23:54:00.010-04:00

So. I watched the debate. And to answer my question from my last post, no, she didn't wear her hair down during the debate...the only earpieces we could see were the ones over her ears...meaning her eyeglasses. So I think my concern about another Rovian tactic has been calmed. I think the McCain camp did a good job preparing her. I think she did do a good job redeeming herself after those terrible one-on-one interviews, but it really sounded very rehearsed to me. She didn't really answer the questions, and there was not much real substance to what she said, but I am certain that she appealed to her base. She has reaffirmed their faith in her.

On the other hand, I think Joe Biden did a great job answering the questions that were put to him and correcting the record on what she said. I wonder what impact this debate will have on the undecideds...

Palin's New Hair Style

2008-09-29T14:21:00.002-04:00

I notice that Palin has a new hair style, one that covers her ears... just in time for this week's coming debate... could it be that she will wear a wire so that someone more knowledgable can feed her the correct answers?

Hmmmm, I wonder...

I Want A Bailout

2008-09-29T00:06:00.004-04:00

Yes, I believe a bailout is in order. For me. I have been very good with my finances. Certainly, I have more debt than I want to have, because I have an elusive offspring living his elusive life at university in Scotland. It's expensive. But I have not missed any bill payments, and I have only been late one day on one credit card in the last decade...and that was because I was out of the country when the bill came due. But I think I should get a bailout. I won't be greedy. I don't need $700 billion. I don't need a million either. Heck, I don't even need $100k. I mean, of course a million or $100K would be nice, but really, I think $50,000 would do nicely. It would pay off my credit cards, the rest of the BAT (big-ass-truck) and the last of the elusive offspring's tuition. All that would remain would be the mortgage. I can handle that. And the the income that was freed up by the bailout would allow me to invest further in the economy. I'd be happy to invest. It would be nice. I could invest in new clothes. A new computer would be nice. I'd like a maid service. Bailing me out would help create jobs. I wouldn't mind investing in jewelry...yes, I could invest very nicely.

Why shouldn't the government go directly to the people who have the debt and bail them out? I mean, it makes sense to me. Why bail out the banks and Wall Street when you can go directly to the little guy?

I want a bailout.

Silly Treadmill Cats

2008-09-23T10:02:00.004-04:00

OK, so yesterday's video was just too depressing. Let's have a funny one now.

The amazing thing is that neither of these cats was forced to walk on the treadmill. They wanted to walk on it. They kept coming back to it. It was a challenge to them. Silly kitties.

Palin's Savage Killing of Wolves

2008-09-22T11:41:00.003-04:00

I don't think I have to say anything other than this sort of thing upsets me more than her stand on abortion (especially in cases of incest and rape), her vindictiveness to those who oppose her, her stand on the war in Iraq, her inexperience, need I say more? And it's not just because of my blog name. I am not necessarily anti-hunting per se. That other stuff is political. This is outrageous. Completely and utterly outrageous. My blood boils.

Political Hypocrisy

2008-09-16T11:16:00.008-04:00

I have been wanting to write about how I feel about this year's election, but it is just so damned depressing that I can't seem to write my feelings. I am so frustrated with the Palin/McCain ticket. I don't know what happened to McCain since 2000, but he's not at all the same guy. Not that I would have voted for him if he WAS the same guy...just that I wouldn't be so terrified as I am now if he were to get elected. His "maverick" and thoughtless choice of Palin as his running mate is a slap in the face, and a good example of a total lack of judgement. It was his first opportunity to show some sound decision-making and leadership, and he chose Hockey Mom. I wonder if he had any idea that she would upstage him so thoroughly. When you see them these days, you begin to wonder which one of them is the candidate and which one is the running mate. Which is why I call them Palin/McCain.

I get really tired of the hypocrisy. A few years ago, a knee-jerk Republican colleague said she did not like Bill Clinton...that she could never vote for a man who cheated on his wife (of course, she is married to a man who cheated on his first and second wife, but forget that because he's not the president...thank goodness). And yet, this year she will vote for a man who not only cheated on his wife, but left her because she was disfigured in a terrible car accident (he has admitted this was probably a mistake), only to immediately turn around and marry a multi-millionaire that he called a very nasty name in front of reporters. Lovely man. But for many years now, I have thought it my bound duty and my husband's to get out and cancel this colleague's vote and her husband's... In fact, every time I finalize my vote, I feel very smug about it, knowing that I have done my bound duty.

Anyway, I am including here wonderful piece makes me very glad that I left the Republican party to become a Democrat way back when. But I am such a luddite that I can't figure out how to attach it without making it PART of my entry. So, here it is in its entirety.

Subject: Different outlooks

If you're a minority and you're selected for a job over more qualified candidates you're a "token hire."
If you're a conservative and you're selected for a job over more qualified candidates you're a "game changer."

Black teen pregnancies? A "crisis" in black America.
White teen pregnancies? A "blessed event."

If you grow up in Hawaii you're "exotic."
Grow up in Alaska eating moose burgers, you're the quintessential "American story."

Similarly, if you name your kid Barack you're "unpatriotic."
Name your kid Track, you're "colorful."

If you spend 3 years as a community organizer growing your organization from a staff of 1 to 13 and your budget from $70,000 to $400,000, then become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new African American voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, then spend nearly 8 more years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, becoming chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, then spend nearly 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of nearly 13 million people, sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you are woefully inexperienced.

If you spend 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, then spend 20 months as the governor of a state with 650,000 people, then you've got the most executive experience of anyone on either ticket, are the Commander in Chief of the Alaska military and are well qualified to lead the nation should you be called upon to do so because your state is the closest state to Russia.

If you are a Democratic male candidate who is popular with millions of people you are an "arrogant celebrity".
If you are a popular Republican female candidate you are "energizing the base".

If you are a younger male candidate who thinks for himself and makes his own decisions you are "presumptuous".
If you are an older male candidate who makes last minute decisions you refuse to explain, you are a "shoot from the hip" maverick.

If you are a candidate with a Harvard law degree you are "an elitist-out of touch" with the real America.
if you are a legacy (dad and granddad were admirals) graduate of Annapolis, with multiple disciplinary infractions
you are a hero.

If you manage a multi-million dollar nationwide campaign, you are an "empty suit."
If you are a part time mayor of a town of 7000 people, you are an "experienced executive."

If you go to a south side Chicago church, your beliefs are "extremist."
If you believe in creationism and don't believe global warming is man made, you are "strongly principled."

If you kill an endangered species (Polar bears) or shoot wolves from an airplane, you're an excellent hunter.
If you have an abortion (even in cases of incest and rape and the mother's health) you’re not a Christian but a murderer.

If you teach abstinence only in sex education, you get teen parents.
If you teach responsible age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.

Post Script to "Everyone in my Family is OK"

2008-09-15T11:17:00.003-04:00

Finally, yesterday afternoon I talked to my brother. He and my mom are fine. They are without power and a part of their fence blew away, but they are ok. There was no water damage. My brother says he tried to reach me several times, but was unable to because of phone problems. He said at one point his cell phone died and he had to charge it in his truck. I asked if he had tried using Mom’s cellphone. No, it wasn’t charged. It wasn’t charged? Why not? She never uses it, so they didn’t bother to charge it.

See what I mean? Dumb and dumber…

Everyone in my Family is OK

2008-09-14T12:41:00.003-04:00

I have heard from everyone except my mom and brother. But one of my sisters got a voice mail from my brother saying they were ok, but were having phone trouble. The sister and brother in law in Galveston had some water damage and debris, but things are looking up. Their power is back on, but the fresh water situation is not good. Fortunately, they prepared by putting aside a lot of potable water before hand. It turns out they are on higher ground than I realized before. My other sister and brother-in-law had tree damage, and their power went out, but they are ok, too. And my sister (Girl from Texas) is fine. Her house withstood the storm, and her power came back yesterday. She went through the storm alone.

Everyone in my family is ok.

Officially Worried Now

2008-09-12T12:18:00.003-04:00

I'm getting really worried about my family in Houston. One of my husband's sisters lives in Galveston with her husband and a menagerie of animals. They won't leave because of the animals. I think they should just pack all the damned animals into their truck and leave. Worry later. Go. Just go. Now. This is going to be really bad for Galveston. The west part of the island is already flooded and the surge hasn't gotten there yet. The surge is projected to be 20-30 feet depending on location.

My sister (Girl From Texas) is probably going to be ok, but I am worried about her, too. I can no longer call anyone there using my cellphone because there is too much cell traffic now.

I'm worried about my mom and brother because of their proximity to the San Jacinto River, which will flood when 12 inches of water fall in less than 12 hours. And the water will have no where to go (because of Ike) except into the neighborhoods, including theirs. I have the Weather Channel on, and can't get any work done. Jim Cantore has stressed that there will be record flooding from Ike. He repeated that for emphasis.

I have a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.

Yikes, it's Ike

2008-09-11T22:49:00.003-04:00

My family lives in Houston, and I'm a bit concerned. My sister will probably be high and dry in her 1920s duplex, which is in a higher part of Houston (if you can imagine flat Houston having a "higher" area). But my brother and mom live in an area that floods. And they are not leaving. They plan to stay. I suggested that they should make sure they have plenty of fresh water and food that doesn't have to be cooked. My brother told me they would "make their own water" which does not mean what you think it means. It means they have a water filter. An electric water filter. They have an electric stove, too. I think my brother believes they will sit out the storm watching television and popping popcorn. In an electric microwave oven.

Sometimes I think my mom and brother are Dumb and Dumber. I gave them these nicknames a few weeks ago, when my brother started talking politics. He said that Obama didn't want to allow offshore drilling and that would ruin business for petroleum landmen in Texas. I thought he was joking...but he wasn't. "Not allowing offshore drilling will ruin business for landmen? Huh?" If anything, I would think Texas landmen would want drilling to occur on land, not offshore, so they could get the leases and drilling rights to the oil. I really don't understand him. He thinks Obama is going to raise everyone's taxes because he saw it on a McCain ad. He thinks Obama is a secret muslim because he heard it from someone. He doesn't read the newspapers. I can't even write what my mother thinks. Thus, the nicknames. Then, when my sister told me about some other dumb thing my brother said, I told her about the nicknames. She laughed. Later that night, she called me and said: "OK, so, which one is Dumb and which one is Dumber?"

You probably think I dislike my mom and brother. To the contrary, I love them very much. You might think that I am rude to them. I'm not. Well, maybe sometimes, when they say really stupid things. I have told my brother that he owes it to the rest of the country to educate himself before making ridiculous pronouncements. In the alternative, he and my mom should do everyone a favor and stay home on election day. Sometimes, they are more than a bit frustrating. The thing that bothers me most is that they may be representative of the majority of this country. Terrifying thought.

Anyway, I'll update the Ike situation later. And the dumbness situation too, maybe.

Life on the High Seas

2008-09-01T15:02:00.003-04:00

Well, ok, so it's not really the high seas. But when our anniversary came around two weeks ago, H asked me what I wanted. I said "Let's not get each other something. Let's get something for US together. Or for the house." We both liked that idea, but a couple of days later, H says he's gotten something for us and he hopes I like it. He won't tell me what it is, but it's for us. The morning of our anniversary, I hear him outside banging on the BAT (big-assed truck) and I look out to see him putting the racks on it (we use them for such things as sheetrock and two-by-fours and the like, you know, for the house. But I knew he wasn't getting something for the house). I went outside and walked up to him and said "Just tell me it's not kayaks..." He knows I'm not ready for a kayak just yet. I love canoeing but I'm just not ready for a kayak. Someday. Not yet. "No, it's a canoe. We're going to pick it up now."

Yippee! A canoe! One of our first dates was a canoe ride on Summerville Lake in Texas. That was a lot of years ago! And I absolutely loved it. Then, throughout the years, we'd occasionally go canoeing with the elusive one. Then, he and the elusive one did a 10-day canoe trip in Canada, complete with backpacks, tents, and portage experience. We always wanted our own canoe, but there were other things that took the money then.

He found this one on Craig's list...a 14-foot Mad River Canoe. A little heavy...about 80 pounds. But not expensive. We picked up the canoe, went to lunch, then headed out to Mason Neck for our very first ride in our new canoe. We were only out on the water about 45 minutes to an hour. We saw several osprey and a bald eagle (being chased by a gull!), And you know the sound the eagle makes in the movies? It sounds so cool in real life! The water was calm, but I was very tired when we pulled the canoe out of the water. Despite the sunblock, I got a little too much sun...not a good idea for a red head. But I absolutely loved it. I expected my arms to be sore, but it was my neck that ached. I still loved it. I wanted to go out again the next day, but we already had plans.

So, this morning, we drove up to River Bend, above Great Falls. We paddled up river for about an hour, even trying our ability against some tough water. We decided to portage at one point...I'm not going to want to do too much of that with this canoe. Dang! It's heavy and awkward.
Then we came back down river. It took half the time. I worked much harder this week. I need to find a really strong sunblock, and a wide-brimmed hat. I've been using a painter's hat and it's not protecting my face well enough.

I feel great! I love this canoe! Can't wait for next weekend. Somebody suggested Burke Lake. I could go back to River Bend again and again, it's so beautiful. Maybe I'm ready for a kayak after all!

If I Weren't Laughing I'd Be Crying...

2008-08-26T17:06:00.003-04:00

We have been without one of our bathrooms since two days before Christmas last year. On December 23, we got up early to do a little straightening and cleaning before my sister arrived at 11:30 in the morning, and the EO arrived at 8:00 that night. So, I made beds and organized while H cleaned the second floor bathroom. He did a right thorough job on the bathtub. It sparkled! He went downstairs ahead of me, and when he got to the kitchen, I heard him say "We've got a problem." And when I got there, I saw water pouring out of the ceiling fan in the kitchen. Yikes!

I wanted to call the plumber. No, says my favorite husband, it's going to require pulling out the ceiling or maybe the upstairs floor to fix it. It's that 80-100 year old cast iron plumbing, rusting or corroding, or something like that. It's going to take a lot of work to replace it, he says. Luckily, it had nothing to do with the commode, so at least that worked, but not the sink or the tub. He suggested we wait until we can ]\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\0 (that was Wolfie, writing his own thing--translate "feed me"--as he walked across the keyboard, the little bum). OK, so H figured we could just replace the bathroom rather than tearing it up and putting it back together. A nice idea. We've been wanting to redo that bathroom for several years now. Fine, I said. We'll try to do it in February. Ok, then, maybe March. If not March, then April. Should I just call a plumber? "No," my husband says,"I'll do the work. It will save us money." But then we went to Scotland in June. So maybe July? Well, not July. Now, we started thinking about maybe waiting until the EO graduates next year. But that would mean...no second floor bathroom for another year!

The thing is, I'm a bath person, not a shower person. I believe in long luxurious bubble baths in a comfortable sloping tub. A glass of wine now and then. Some nice smelly candles. A good book. Now, the only other full bathroom in this house has the most ridiculous little bathtub in the world, obviously created by a designer who had never taken a bath in his or her life...preferring that splashy thing called a shower, I suppose. For eight months, I have used that awful bathtub. For eight months, I have longed for my comfy tub. I am proud to say I have never complained. Until now.

But now, my sister-in-law and her husband and two girls are coming to visit in September. We are very excited abou the visit, but it's going to be rough with all six of us using the same bathroom for the week. So, last week, in my sweetest voice, I suggested that perhaps now would be a good time to get a plumber to come out and tell us if we can just patch it up and use it for another year or so. To my surprise, H said he'd call the plumber.

The plumber came on Sunday. As they went upstairs, I heard my husband telling him to let him know when he needed the kitchen ceiling cut, and my husband would do that job...he's very particular about how things are done. The plumber agreed and started surveying the problem. Luckily, in this old house of ours, this bathtub has an access area that is easily reached from above the tub. The poor plumber was practically hanging upside down in the access area surveying... H and I went downstairs to leave him to his work. Before long, the plumber comes downstairs, looking for H. "Is it really bad?" I asked. "No, I think it's a lot simpler than you realize." "Really???" I was excited! Maybe we won't have to tear out the kitchen ceiling after all.

For eight months, I have been without my beloved comfy tub. For eight months, I have been using that ridiculous thing upstairs. It turns out that our flood was caused by my husband's exuberance cleaning the tub two days before Christmas. The water went up into the overflow (the very old gasket needs replacement) and poured down into the ceiling over the kitchen. The bill to find out this delightful "I told you so" nugget? $142. That and a tube of Goop silicone caulking. The plumber said that it would take an awful lot of corrosion or rust to get through those thick old cast iron pipes. And there was none.

And no, I haven't used the free "I told you so." I never do...even though I've had quite a few opportunities to do so. But telling stories about my favorite husband is much more fun than telling him "I told you so." It's more fun to fall back on the all-knowing smile and arched eyebrows than to say "I told you so." And I have so many stories to tell!

So, it looks like we can wait until after the EO graduates to remodel our upstairs bathroom. But I promise that the next tub that goes into that bathroom must meet my strict specifications. Even if it means climbing in to each and every model in my socked feet to try it out!

Back In The Saddle Again

2008-08-21T21:07:00.002-04:00

I had a rather rough week...no, make that TWO weeks. Yes, I enjoyed the Olympics, especially Michael Phelps' sweep of gold medals. And the gymnastics. Beach Volleyball. Basketball! Track and Field. Diving...hey I could go on, but you get the idea.

I used the Olympics to try to bring myself into a state of relaxation during the two weeks I worked on a particularly difficult case. I worked on my days off, in the evenings, and on weekend days (sometimes at the office and sometimes at home). But in the end, it was a good thing. The case has been resolved. Settled. It was a hard-won settlement. But we did it. My co-counsel is a true gentleman, with a silver tongue. I'm a bit bullheaded when it comes to trying to do the right thing. It's the red hair. We actually made a really good team, me with the quick snap-backs, and him smoothing everything over. At one point, I told him I really liked this "good cop, bad cop" thing we had going. He says "And we can reverse roles now and then if you want." "Sure!" I said "I'd like to be the bad cop every once in a while, too!"

Of course, I was the bad cop, something I have never really done before. Normally, I'm the sweet southern-style lady, winning 'em over with a smile and sweet voice. But for some reason, this time, I just got angry with the outrageous behavior of our opponents. In the end, we settled. And we got everything we wanted. But it wasn't easy. Still, it was worth all the work.

So, I'm trying to get back to normal. Back to blogging. I have the piano tuner coming over tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to some music. I plan to do absolutely NOTHING tomorrow. Well, obviously, I'll get up and have breakfast. I'll do that. And I'll probably turn on the TV to watch the basketball game. I'll do that, too. But I have no set plans. Finally! A real day off.

Olympic Fever

2008-08-11T00:05:00.006-04:00

It may be a while before I get back to my blog...I am SO wrapped up in the Summer Olympics right now. Is it just me, or does it seem like the coverage is SO much better this year than ever before? Is it because Beijing is 12 hours earlier? Who knows?

Last week, I worked long hours at the office, and even on my day off. It's another one of those nasty cases (they seem to be coming along more and more often, probably because everyone expects the administration to change and the free ride to end but enough politics). I had planned to help my friend Dorothy move on Friday, but had to work instead. H and I were able to help her on Saturday, along with some other friends and movers. We were all exhausted. We started at 8 in the morning and finished by 2:30 in the afternoon. H and I went home and I showered and took a 20 minute nap, then started watching Olympic events. I like to work on things while I watch TV (review documents, do a little needlepoint, some knitting, paperwork, etc.) but I found it a little difficult to do much of anything but watch the action. If it hadn't been for the commercials, I wouldn't have accomplished anything.

I'm a big Michael Phelps fan, and he has not disappointed! The 400 meter was exciting, especially when he was a full body length ahead of the next swimmer at the end, and breaking his own world record to boot. Fantastic! Then we watched the basketball game between the US and China this morning. Loved that, too! And the gymnastics. But I was SO worried about the men's relay event tonight. The announcers kept talking about how there was no way the Americans would beat the French in this relay. And even until the last few seconds, I didn't believe it would happen. But, Damn! They did it! This time, I found myself sitting on the edge of the sofa. Then standing in front of the sofa. Then in front of the television. If I'd gotten any closer I would have been in the water with them!

So. Here it is. I'm just going to be so busy this week, between the job and the Olympics that it may be a while before I write again.

Dumpster Riding

2008-08-07T21:23:00.002-04:00

No, that's not a typo. I know you've heard of dumpster diving. This is different. Well, it involves dumpster diving, but it's not the point. Tuesday night, I went out to dinner with some friends (we celebrate our summer birthdays together every year), and Donna told us her tale. A week ago, she wrote out some checks to pay bills and put them in their envelopes, then put the stack on her table to take to the mailbox when she left for work. She remembered that it was recycle day at her townhouse complex, so she gathered her newspapers and piled them on the table, too. You know where this is going. When she grabbed the papers to take them out, she accidentally grabbed the outgoing mail, too. And she didn't realize her mistake until she had lifted the dumpster lid and thrown everything in. Oops.

She decided she simply had to go dumpster diving for those lost bills, so she went into the house, changed from her workclothes, found a nice chair to climb on, and went back out to the dumpster. Using the chair, she was able to get into the dumpster, which was basically empty except for her papers, the bills, and about an inch of water. Yuckky! She got the wet envelopes and tossed them out of the dumpster onto the ground, and suddenly felt a bump as the big rock that kept the dumpster from rolling fell out of place, and the dumpster started rolling. As in rolling toward a hill. Just as her life began to pass before her eyes with the thought that the dumpster was going to tumble down the hill with her in it, she remembered that the complex had put chains on the dumpsters because of previous problems with dented cars. She says she could only pray the chain held. And it did.

Now she had to figure out how to get out of the dumpster. The chair was on the outside, she was on the inside, and there was nothing to stand on...and on top of that, she had to hold the lid up, too. No one in sight to help. Eventually, my former ballerina friend managed to get one leg up over the side of the dumpster and squirm the rest of the way out. Unharmed. Wet and covered with yukky stuff, but unharmed.

Anyway, Donna is almost a germ-freak. Not quite Howard Hughes, but very aware of cleanliness. When we go out to eat, the first thing she does is go to the ladies room to wash her hands. And she doesn't like to touch public door handles with her bare hands. OK, so now, she is standing next to the dumpster, covered with dumpster muck, and holding a pile of gooey envelopes in her bare hand. Her bare hands, I tell you! What does she do about it? Well, she goes into her townhouse, spreads the envelopes on the table and dries them with a hair drier. Only then does she take her shower, clean everything up and get ready for work again. My friend Donna is a very organized clean person. Once she tossed those dry, albeit suspect, envelopes in the mail, I'm sure there was nothing left to tell the tale of her dumpster ride.

She says she hopes no one got it all on video on their cell phone. I said I hope they did! I'm going to be on the lookout, checking Youtube! But my advice to Donna? Two words:

Online banking.

Red Letter Weekend

2008-08-04T21:40:00.004-04:00

The elusive offspring called Friday, Saturday and Sunday. If I didn't know that he was calling to make sure he didn't miss wishing me happy BD (yes, I'm a Leo), I'd have worried that something was wrong. It's great to see how stimulated he is working in the Physics department. If you want to know exactly what he is doing...well, I can't say. Not that it's secret. It's just that I don't understand it. Something about one substance acting as both a conductor and an insulator depending on temperature. Is this what "superconductivity" is all about? He says all he needs is a pen and paper to do his job. He's doing mathematics and theoretical physics and all that interesting stuff. Interesting stuff to physicists like the EO and his physicist flatmate, the Irish-lilting James. And interesting to my favorite husband, who took thermodynamics in college. The only thing I know about thermodyamics is that if you put a kettle of water on the gas stove and turn up the fire, you can make a nice cup of tea in about one minute. Mmmm. That sounds like a nice idea right now.

Another Tomato Caper

2008-07-30T18:20:00.003-04:00

Every day when I get home from work, I am always afraid to find out what might be waiting for me. For the first two months, Kira had an accident on the tile floor every other day (and believe me, it's not fun to clean up after a dog, especially one the size of Kira). We knew she didn't have parasites (the vet already confirmed that), so we thought maybe she had colitus or irritable bowel or something like that. We tried every type of canned dog food known to man, and every type of dry food, or combination thereof. When we got back from Scotland, Kira decided on her own that she wanted only dry food, and only once a day, in the evening. She would not eat in the morning. And we started doing something that a friend recommended: we put one tablespoon of unsweetened coconut on top of her food every night. It binds with the yukky stuff inside the gut and takes it out with the rest of the ... stuff. She LOVES that coconut! She wants me to put it in the palm of my hand so she can lick it up. When I open the fridge, she hurries over to stick her nose in and touch the bag of coconut. Sure enough, it looked like we had cleared up the problems with her innards. Then after the three wonderful uneventful weeks, she did that gross thing that Ziggy used to do...she found the "kitty treats" in the litter box. Ewe! Next day, boy did we have a clean-up job! But now we have gone for two weeks without incident. We put the kitty litter box in the basement, and Kira can't get through the kitty door to go down there. It frustrates her to no end that the cats can go through that little door and she can't. The cats, of course, realize this, and torment her with the cruelty that only cats can show.

Tonight I came home, and as I always do, peered into the kitchen with trepidation. Imagine how delighted I was to see that there was no Kira accident on the kitchen floor. Yippee! But wait! What on earth was that bowl doing upside down in a corner. And what was that lump under the bowl? No, no, nothing like that. Please! But, if you recall my Tomato Tale from May, you won't be surprised to hear that under the bowl was the tomato I had left on the counter the night before. A tomato on the floor! Was Wolfie up to his old tricks again? Or had Kira decided to look for treats on the counter and knocked the bowl over in the process? I picked everything up and put it in the sink to be washed, then left the room. No sooner had I stepped into the living room than I heard a noise in the kitchen. I ran back in to find Wolfie, on the counter, holding the tomato by the stem in his teeth. Up to his old tricks again.

So I ask you, what is more interesting, a coconut-eating dog or a tomato-eating cat?

Keeping in Touch with the Elusive Offspring

2008-07-29T22:56:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, I really have to work hard to keep in touch with EO. When he's bored, and has nothing to do, or when all the other students have gone on holiday leaving him behind, he has been known to call home every night. But when all his friends are around him, and he's working, and sleeping until 2 in the afternoon, his poor mum becomes a bit of a potted plant (I didn't say I become potted...just a potted plant).

So, this past Saturday I called him at 9:00 a.m. my time and 2:00 p.m. his time. I got my cellphone and pressed the speed dial for Thom UK. The phone rang that special UK ring "burrrrt-burrrrt." "Hullo?" a male voice answers. In my sweetest, all-knowing mother's voice, I say: "Are you asleep, sleepy?" A hesitant response comes back "Uh, no," and then "Who are you trying to reach?" Oops! Not the elusive offspring I was looking for. "Oh! I must have the wrong number! Sorry." The male voice on the other side says it again "Who are you trying to call?" This time, my response is a little sheepish: "Thomas." "He's asleep" comes the answer. "Oh, who am I talking to?" "James." (It sounds more like "Jems" when he says it). One of my son's flatmates...from Ireland. And my synapses start to malfunction immediately. What the heck is James doing with Thomas' cellphone (or "mobile" if you are in the UK)? Luckily, James saves me from saying something stupid, like "What the heck are you doing with Thomas' cellphone?" by telling me I should call him on his mobile and wake him. Ah, I had called the flat's land-line.

I should have said "Sure! Nice to talk to you, James." But no. I start asking him stupid questions about how he's doing and what he's up to. He's a really nice guy and he put up with all my questions and I believe he even gave back as good as he got. Eventually, I said I should probably call the sleepy one and we hung up.

Honestly, I'm not stalking my son's flatmate! Mrs. Robinson I'm not! But I have to admit that when he speaks with that lilting Northern Ireland accent of his, it's ... well... seductive.

So, I then called and woke the sleepy one. Last week, he started his internship with one of his professors or lecturers or someone in his department. It appears to be more than a 40-hour a week job, this internship. Sadly, the department did not have the budget for paying him (although there were funds for graduate students), so the potted plant is now footing his rent and bringing lunch to work (thus saving bucks and calories). The EO sounds very satisfied with this summer internship...sort of makes it all worth while, you know, eating home-made sandwiches and soup and all.

Eventually, I'll get ahold of him again and find out just what he's working on. Maybe I'll call the flat's phone number again (as opposed to EO's mobile) and maybe James will answer again...

Just kidding!

How We Spent Our Summer Solstice

2008-07-23T21:56:00.008-04:00

This year, Summer Solstice (June 21) landed on a Saturday...and we were in St Andrews for it. What better place to be at the height of summer? The sun sets around 11 p.m., but leaves a wonderful glow on the horizon, until it comes up again by 4 or 4:30 in the morning. A number of times during our visit, I awoke around 4:30 a.m. and looked out the window to see people walking down the street as if it were already 8:00 in the morning. I mean, where do you go at 4:30 in the morning? The pubs close by 1:00 a.m. and nothing opens until who knows when.

OK, so on the Summer Solstice, we went to the pub where the elusive offspring works as a "bar man." Over here, we call them "bartender." In old western movies, they used to call them "bar keep." I just call him "Thomas." My favorite husband calls him "Mr. President." Ok, bad joke (but that's what H would say when EO was a baby, and people would ask "what do you call him, Tom or Tommy or Thomas"). Back to the story. My son's friends are delightful, all 45 of them. Every time we'd see any of them in town, they would invite us to join them, or they would come join us. When the pub closed on this fine Summer Solstice night at 1:00 in the morning, and my son had to stay behind to help clean up, his friends urged us to come along with them to the sand under the castle ruins and EO could catch up with us later. There on the sand, they built a bonfire (two competing bonfires, actually) and sat around playing guitars and singing and drinking beer and whisky. I was very glad for the fire, because it was cold. But the cold didn't stop two girls from stripping down to their underwear and jumping into the 50-degree water -- what's that in celsius, 9 or 10 degrees? They didn't stay in the water very long, and luckily there was that warm fire waiting for them. Not to be outdone, a guy did the same thing...I was more than a little worried about him because he was quite drunk already and I was afraid he'd fall on the rocks. Fortunately, no one got hurt.

I sat on a cold hard rock with Alice and thought that this tradition of making a bonfire and welcoming the sun on the summer solstice must be hundreds of years old. And St Andrews students have done it, year after year, for decades, centuries. St Andrews University was founded around 1410...and St Andrews castle was built a couple hundred years before that! 800 years ago.

I managed to take a photo of what it looks like at the darkest point of the longest day of the year in St Andrews, Scotland. You have to stand really still for the camera to capture. Even so, this does not really capture it. The smell of the bonfire, the sound of the ocean, the singing, the cold air, the little bit of wind blowing across the sand. What an appropriate way to celebrate Summer Solstice in the land of the druids.

A little post-script: H and I left around 3 or 3:30 a.m., leaving EO to sing with his friends. Most everyone else left around 5:30 a.m., after the sun was well up. EO crashed at a friend's flat and we didn't see him until around 11 a.m. The impressive thing was that everyone brought plastic bags to carry out all the beer and whisky bottles and trash. And later on in the day, all that was left was ash from the bonfires mixed into the sand. This must be why no one ever complains about these little bonfire events.

Testosterone

2008-07-21T21:29:00.010-04:00

My favorite husband has discovered the joy of BBCAmerica...or more importantly, Top Gear. In case you have never seen Top Gear, it's sort of like Motor Week, on steroids (testosterone). H first saw this wonderful show while we were visiting the elusive offspring in St Andrews. The hosts of Top Gear are three guys, of varying ages, discussing various cars (usually super-cars like Lamborghinis or Ferarris or Porsches, with the occasional BMW and Mercedes thrown in) and they even get to test drive these cars on a race track. Of course, there's another guy, the faceless (helmeted) Stig, a former Formula One driver who takes over where the three hosts leave off. He really makes those cars sing! I wish I could be driving them! No, no, wait, this is about my favorite husband: he wishes HE could be driving them. The neat thing is that Top Gear brings in guest drivers...like Helen Mirin and Dr Who (David Tennant or Bertie Crouch) and his assistant (Billie Piper)...and for the record, Dr Who was soundly beaten by his assistant. They also do such neat things as pit a Range Rover against England's top tank, the Challenger II. That was fun...you can watch it on YouTube:

In another episode, they pitted a Lotus Exige against an Apache helicoptor. This is on YouTube, too.

Anyway, when we get home from work and finish making dinner, we sit down to eat and watch the telly, as they say in the UK. And our choice of entertainment, after the nightly news, is BBC. It used to be that H would skip from channel to channel...never really finding something he wanted to watch. Or he'd say, "What channel is that XYZ show on?" or "Where do I find the ZYX movie?" You get the idea...I'm usually the channeler. But not now. Now, he grabs the remote as soon as we sit down and puts it on Channel 114 (the only station he knows now), and then sets aside the remote until Top Gear is finished...he'll even leave it longer, hoping against hope that there is yet another episode following. He doesn't mind watching the reruns either, even when they come on two hours later!

This weekend, we discovered a funny Brittish sitcom called Spaced...There was a six-episode marathon on Sunday while H varnished the new pocket doors in the dining room and I did paperwork. I love the quirkiness of this Brittish "Chuck" meets "Friends" sitcom. My husband, however, kept asking me questions while he had his back to the television, varnishing the doors: "So, is this a science fiction?" "No, it's just a show about a couple who have to act like they are married to share a flat together." Obviously, the alcohol in the varnish was having some sort of effect on H because he then asked "Are they time travelers?" Still varnishing with his back to the television. "No, that was Dr. Who. These guys are just a bunch of strange people in a flat in England." Finally, he got up and watched it with me for a little while. There was a wonderful scene where three of the characters (all grown men...I think) suddenly start finger-shooting each other in slow motion, complete with slo-mo sounds...bullets, grenades, splats, drawn-out "no-o-o-o-s. " They are slowly falling backwards and sideways as they get hit by the imaginary bullets, and eventually they all end up on the floor, not moving; then suddenly they get up and head out the door together, off to the pub. For some reason, that scene made me laugh so hard I could hardly breathe and I almost lost a contact lense from the tears in my eyes. Heaven only knows why was it so funny to me! My favorite husband gives me a goofy look and says "Men are all just big kids, aren't they?"

Well, yes, they are. While I know that H would love to have one of those Top Gear fast cars, secretly, he'd probably like the Apache helicoptor or Challenger II tank even better! So, these days I leave the remote next to his chair...this is a man who is really in touch with his inner little boy.

Malfunctioning Synapses

2008-07-17T23:06:00.003-04:00

We have a bunch of twenty-somethings working in my section at my agency (both technical and legal). I really like them all, but find myself talking to two of them more than the others. We sometimes just sit and talk about things: life, work, family...you know, stuff. I never really thought of the difference in our ages until recently.

For example, last year, I was talking to Maryanne about a friend of hers who was having a baby. She said the friend had gotten a sonogram. I said a sonogram was my son's first baby picture and she turned to me, incredulously: "They had sonograms back then?" Imagine my surprise at hearing that phrase "back then" so soon in my life! I laughed out loud and answered: "Why, yes, we did. We even had cars back then." We both laughed, but I think she was a bit embarassed. I, on the other hand, thought the whole thing was funny... until a couple of days later.

Barely had I recovered from the "back then" experience when my co-counsel on one of my cases told me about the training session he had attended the week before. He had been bored because they had stuck him at a table with a bunch of old guys. "Old guys?" I asked, "How old were they?" "You know, forties and fifties," he said. "Wow!" I said, "That old!" He got all goofy and tried to back pedal. I can't remember what he said, but I laughed because he was digging the hole deeper. I told him to just keep it up because someday he, too, would be on the receiving end.

I think he likes to come into my office to talk because he knows he will make me laugh. Although he's three years older than EO, he sort of reminds me of my son. This morning he was in my office telling me the reasons he liked working for the government as opposed to a law firm. "First," he said, "you can have a life away from the office." "And B," he added, "you get far more experience sooner than you would at a law firm." He was right, of course, but I laughed out loud and asked him if he had seen "Home Alone." First and B. He understood and laughed, which leads me to the title of this blog. Malfunctioning synapses. Obviously, judging by the fact that AK is a very bright young attorney, I knew he was merely suffering from malfunctioning synapses, something I, myself have experienced.

To put him at ease, I told him about my own synapse malfunction two nights ago, when my favorite husband and I were flipping through channels and he stopped on a bicycle race. You know the one. The scenery was fantastic. "Where is this?" I ask. "It's the Tour de France," my favorite husband answers. "The Tour de France is in Finland this year?" I ask. "No, it's in France." Looking at the clock in the corner of the screne, I wonder: "Why are they using a Finnish clock?" No sooner were the words spoken than I realized my mistake. The "Finnish" clock only had one "n" in it. You know, finish? As in finishing time? Duh!

Does this mean I'm getting old? Surely not! After all, anyone's synapses can malfunction at any time. Right?

The Analyst's Couch

2008-07-16T23:15:00.007-04:00

Yesterday I saw a bumper sticker that said: "Embarassing my children: a full-time job." I like the sentiment expressed by that bumper sticker. But my motto is this: "I have to give my son something to talk about when he is on the analyst's couch."

When the elusive offspring was 16 or 17, he said to me: "Mom, I want to dye my hair blue." "Sure!" I said, "where can we get the dye?" We bought bought the dye and his girlfriend came over and we made an afternoon of it. When we were finished, his normally ginger hair was the most lovely midnight blue. I loved it! My favorite husband, of course, hated it. As I watched EO drive away with his girlfriend, it suddenly hit me that I'd blown it. If my son was making a rebellious statement, a bid for teenage freedom, I did exactly the wrong thing. I should have said: "No, don't do it. I forbid it," or something more parental than "Yes, let's!" That way, when he's an adult and needs to blame his parents for his woes, he could tell the analyst: "My mother wouldn't let me dye my hair blue." But no, I wasn't thinking quite correctly. Instead, I found myself taking photos of my blue-haired son and keeping them in my office to amuse and shock colleagues (the military types were especially distressed by the idea of a blue-haired son). Two weeks later, the hair was turning a sickly green, and we refreshed the dye. Then two weeks after that, when it started looking yukky again, I asked EO if he wanted to do it again. "Naw, this is too much work. I'm going to let it go back." For which I really was grateful. It took a while to get the blue out of the bathtub, and I still have a formerly cream-colored towel that is now splotchy blue (not my doing) and can't be left out when we have company.

So, on our first night in Scotland last month, my son says: "Well, I guess it's now or never," and he takes off his leather motorcycle jacket, at which point I immediately knew where this was going. "Please don't let it say Mom." He lifts his sleeve and reveals what is actually a very nicely done tattoo:

"SPQR" being the initials for ... if my Latin serves me and if I translate correctly ... the Senate of the People of Rome. He said he got it as a reminder of the effects of hubris. He said the great nation of Rome fell because of hubris, and the United States is often compared to Rome (even taking the eagle for its symbol, like Rome). I tried to be really disappointed in this new evidence of EO's independence, but I'm afraid my open fascination with the artwork betrayed me. Maybe it's because I was suddenly reminded of my own flirtation with the idea (when I was 20) of having a tiny rose tattooed on my ankle...that fantasy faded faster than a henna tattoo. I have no tattoos. As for the EO's tattoo, my husband reluctantly admitted the elegance of the tattoo and its meaning, but still hates it. Blue hair grows out. Tattoos don't. Howevr, I think if he is going to have a tattoo, this one is a rather nice one.

Back to the analyst's couch. Now, you won't thank me for this next story. But I'm going to tell it anyway. During that same 16th or 17th year, my blue-haired son and I were driving down Glebe Road and he suddenly said: "Oh! I just thought of The Game!" "Huh? The game?" And he explained it to me. The simplicity of it is just stunning. The Game is to think of The Game, nothing more, nothing less. Or maybe more importantly NOT to think of The Game. But once you know about The Game, you will find yourself suddenly thinking of it (here is where I take a bow for sharing this lovely little mind fart of a game with you). What triggered the thought for my son that day was the act of driving down Glebe Road (maybe because he was on Glebe Road when someone taught him about The Game, just as I was on Glebe Road when he taught me about The Game). And thus, what triggers The Game for me is, of course, Glebe Road. Who knows what will now trigger the thought for you?

It is a never-ending quest to find things for EO to tell the analyst when he is an adult needing to blame his woes on his parents. Last week, the day before he went back to St Andrews Scotland (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention he came here for two weeks after we went there for two weeks...four lovely weeks with the ever elusive one), I made him spend the whole day with me so we could share some quality mother-son time. In our four weeks together, I was sure I had seen him for only 2 hours and 15 minutes...he thinks I exaggerate the paucity of time together, so I'll inflate it to 2 hours and 45 minutes. While we were having lunch together, I looked at him and said seriously. "I want to say something to you. I know you will hate me for it." Expecting some grand parental pronouncement, he earnestly responded: "No, I won't, Mom." I hesitated, smiled, and said "Glebe." "Oh, man! I don't believe it! You made me think of The Game!" Well, not quite in those words.

Something for him to tell the analyst.

Recovering from Vacation

2008-07-08T22:23:00.003-04:00

The problem with going on a two-week vacation is that you really need another two-week vacation to recover from your two-week vacation...

We got back on June 25. That was a long time ago! But I have not had one moment to myself since we got back. It seems that every single one of my cases went bonkers while I was way. I know I'm a lawyer and I don't mean to say bad things about my profession, but I have to say that sometimes lawyers can be SO sleazy. In my absence, one slimeball tried to convince my supervisor (who was taking care of things while I was away) that we had agreed to something we would NEVER have agreed to. She was not fooled. And just today, other tried to do an end-run around us to get some outrageous agreement approved by the head of our section without my case team's input. Again, we were lucky that he knew what was going on and did not agree. I have never seen so much of this kind of behavior before. It's like everyone is taking a page out of the W Bush playbook and trying to ram their trash through before a new administration takes over. It is unbelievable what goes on in the last few months of an administration. I am proud to be a public interest lawyer, but it's not necessarily an easy job.

But enough about my case load. Kira is doing incredibly well! I can't believe she is the same dog! When we picked her up at the doggy hotel after our trip, she was very excited to see that we had not gotten rid of her. She has been extremely well-behaved. It's all so interesting. No longer is she eating the expensive venison canned dog food ($2.50 a pop!)...instead, she is eating very high-option dried dog food. It is really what she wants. Also, she no longer likes to eat anything in the morning. It just sits in the bowl until the evening. So, now she is eating three cups of dried food every night. She now weighs 65 pounds...we need to put another 15-20 pounds on her. And the best part is NO MORE ... well ... diarrhea. No more accidents on the kitchen floor. It's wonderful! Another thing is that she now brings her toys to us so we can play with her. She is really cute when she pounces on her ball, with her ears straight forward and her big paddle feet. She's not barking madly at people when they come in. She starts to bark, and stops when I tell her to stop...usually, anyway. We had a bunch of my colleagues over for hamburgers on Sunday, and Kira took it all in stride, like she was used to having so many people in the house. I've never had a dog attached to me like this. She's my shadow. I almost don't even need a leash for her now! Almost.

What a sweet beautiful dog. Well, I must leave. Before I started this post, I was reviewing and commenting on a 100-page settlement document that is woefully inadequate. Gotta get back to it. I have lots to write about, but it's going to take a while.

Perfect Day in Scotland

2008-06-15T13:51:00.002-04:00

While EO is at work, we are relaxing at his flat. He's letting me use his laptop to check e-mail and write on my blog. He'll be back in another hour or two, and we'll take it easy tonight. We've been living the night life here, that's for sure! The first night we ate at a cafe where a friend of his works, and took our time getting home. Night before last, we closed down the pub where the EO works as a barman (bartender) on Fridays. The live music was fantastic. Last night we almost did the same, but decided to come home sooner. Nevertheless, every night we've been getting to sleep around 2 a.m. Partly due to the interesting fact that, this far up north, the sun doesn't set until after 10 .m. (and even then, the sky glows), and it rises before 4 a.m.! It's really wonderful. Your body thinks it wants to stay up all night...then you crash.

Thus, it is another beautiful day in Scotland. We left nearly 100 degree weather in DC to come to St Andrews where the temperature is between 50 and 60 degrees. This is as gorgeous a place as I remember it, with dark blue skies over the ocean even when the sun is shining. Which is why I am not going to stay to write very much. I'm working on a little watercolor painting of the North Sea...as viewed from St Andrews castle and I want to get back to it. I've been letting it dry before I do more.

I wish I could have had this education abroad experience when I was a student. Must go! Must paint!

Very exciting

2008-06-10T23:21:00.002-04:00

So I will be out of pocket for two weeks. We'll be having fun in very cool Scotland (low 50s, as compared to the 102 degrees we had here the other day). I am taking my watercolor paints and hope to get lots of little paintings of St Andrews and maybe Inverness. A friend who lives close to Inverness has asked us to take a train up to see her for a couple of days, and we are all looking forward to doing so. She's a polymer artist. A true artist.

Here it is, 11:30 p.m., and we have to be at the airport by noon tomorrow...neither of us has started packing yet. We have both been totally overwhelmed at work and at home. But, I think I can get started now. I made a list (as I always do) a couple of weeks ago and it's a good way to get started.

Maybe I can borrow EO's computer at some point and get my blog fix... if not, well, I'll catch up in two weeks.

Anticipation

2008-06-07T23:02:00.002-04:00

H and I hit the ground running this morning. We have so much to do before we leave for Scotland. We had a nice unhealthy breakfast at McDonalds (an Egg McMuffin isn't THAT unhealthy, is it?), then he took me over to the church so I could do the flower arrangements for the altar, and we stopped at the pet specialty store to pick up several cases of dog food for Kira while she's at the Doggy Spa during our trip. All this by 10:30. Then while H got his hair cut, I finished writing the newsletter for my needlepoint guild and e-mailed it. Off we went to Staples so I could make copies of the newsletter for members who don't have e-mail. To the auto store. To REI for new little bottles for shampoo and such. To Starbucks for something cold to drink. To the groc for dinner fixings. Back home to get some stuff done here. It's now getting close to midnight, and I'm really tired. There is so much to do, and, despite all we did today, I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. Stressful. Add to that the stress from trying to get everything organized at my office.

The nice thing is this: I know that, when I get packed and we start out the door on our way to the airport, all the stress will lift. It's like magic. I won't even give a thought to the office. My friend, Dorothy, will stay at the house and take care of the kitties and plants and all, so I don't have to worry about any of that.

This trip to Scotland is really going to be a vacation. I'm taking my paints. I want to do some little paintings of the north sea, and St Andrews, and maybe try my hand at the architecture. I'm taking "The Kite Runner" for reading. And a couple of very small stitching pieces. I'll have my i-Pod for comfort. My camera for capturing the beauty of it all. Do I need my PDA? Not if I don't plan to give a thought to the office.

This is kind of a rambling stream-of-conscious entry... it really is time for a vacation.

Wind

2008-06-04T22:08:00.005-04:00

I'm trying to get everything organized at my office so that my life won't be crazy when I return from Scotland. But it seems that every case I have has blown up somehow, requiring meetings, and issue statements, and draft proposals. For three months, things have been relatively easy, with only an occasional frantic day. But this entire week has been awful. And it promises to get worse before it gets better. I can't wait to get out of the office for two weeks, far away, in another country: Scotland!

We had a wild storm today. It hit us at around 4:00 in the afternoon, with sideways rain and branches blowing across the streets, power outages and falling trees. When we got home from work, we discovered that four trees had gone down around our house. Not our trees, our neighbors' trees. A 150-year-old oak tree fell between two neighbors' houses, messing up the roof of one and the side of the other, but not crushing either. This is a giant grandfather of a tree, and it laid itself down right between the two houses.

Then my neighbor on the other side lost my all-time favorite cherry tree, one that I have watched grow as my son grew. I used to rock him as a baby and look out of the window at the blossoms on that tree. It was much smaller then, but it was absolutely beautiful. Every spring when it bloomed, I was transported back to those magical baby days. The wind pulled the tree up by its roots, and tossed it toward our wrap-around porch, but missed. We think there had to have been a microburst, not quite a tornado. The branches were covered with almost-ripe cherries, and some of them blew onto the porch. This same neighbor also lost another, smaller cherry tree, and a dogwood. In the front of his house, an old oak tree lost two very large branches. My neighbor pointed up into one of his remaining trees, and there in the branches was a roof shingle. We could not find where shingles were missing from our houses or any of the houses around us.

None of my own beloved oak trees (including the 250-year-old white oak) was damaged. Some windy pruning occurred, but nothing severe. The crepe myrtle we planted last year looks fine, as do all the dogwoods. And the roses and azaleas seem to be really enjoying all the rain.

We had another loud thunderstorm about an hour or so ago, but now there is just a steady rain. It makes a lovely, soothing noise.

Weddings and the Passage of Time

2008-06-02T22:27:00.004-04:00

H and I went to a friend's wedding on Saturday. The bride is a colleague of mine (she reminds me a little bit of my sister, Girl from Texas). It was a very intimate event held at an officers' club, and a very classy happening. Friday night, she had a small gathering at her high-rise condo in the Pentagon area, with the most spectacular view of the Washington Monument and the Capital from her balcony. It was sort of like a rehearsal dinner, but without the rehearsal. Just the dinner. We all sat around and talked and I got to know the groom a little better and decided that I like him very much. I think they are well suited. The wedding was equally close. The bride, her brothers, two law school friends, a couple of her colleagues (including myself, Lea and our supervisor) and our husbands, the groom and his three kids, two sisters and a colleague...not too many people. A very nice number.

Weddings are interesting to people who have been married for a while. When your child turns 21, you sort of forget that you were ever 21 yourself. But a wedding brings back the memories of the beginning. At the same time, a wedding slaps you in the face with the knowledge that you're NOT 21 any more. And yet, at this wedding, the bride was 40-something, and the groom at least 10 years older, but as I watched them take their vows, their faces filled with youthful anticipation, I was reminded once again that you don't really have to be 21 to be young. My father was fond of that old cliche "You are as young as you feel." So, the occasional wedding is a good reminder.

I don't know at what point during the ceremony H took my hand, but suddenly there it was, big and warm and very comfortable. Later, I overheard someone saying that they had seen my supervisor and her husband (same age as us) take one anothers' hands. And Lea and her husband were a little sweeter to one another.

So, what causes this sudden desire to touch each other? Is it a wish to be 21 years old again? Or at least to recapture the newness of it all, a time when everything was in front of us, a horizon of unknown potential and anticipation, before the mortgage, the career, kids, college tuition payments? Does it remind us to BE young?

The other day, the elusive offspring called. He is considering his options for the time after he graduates in June 2009. One thought is that he would take a 2-year visa and stay in the UK to work. Any work. Physics would be nice, but he says he'd even work as a mechanic just to get away from the academic world for a while. "You're getting a mighty expensive education for doing mechanics work," I said, and then suddenly I thought differently. "Actually, never mind. Now is the time to do that. Before you get the mortgage, the career, kids, and the pesky college tuition payments that go with having kids." He's only 21. His whole life is out there ahead of him. Certainly, I'd rather see him using his talents (singing, acting, his aptitude for science), but if he can support himself in the UK with whatever job he lands, well then, that's part of his life experience. I would have loved to have that experience.

And who knows? Someday, I might be standing at his wedding and reaching out for H's hand, reliving 21.

A Good Mood

2008-05-27T23:32:00.002-04:00

I had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend! My friend, Dorothy, and I went to visit KJ (another stitching friend) in Chesapeake, MD. KJ and her husband, Bob, have a beautiful house that makes you feel like you are at an elegant retreat, which is what KJ says she wanted us to feel. No kidding! It was like going to a five-star B&B, but to be with a friend. She has two guest rooms -- actually, the one I stayed in is KJ’s stitching room, but it’s so beautifully appointed that you feel like a truly valued visitor. She had fresh flowers in both rooms, and baskets of products in the bathrooms (anything you could possibly ever need). In the evening, she’d sneak up to our rooms while we were still stitching and turn on a small light and the radio (low volume), and she’d leave a cold water of Perrier on the side table, with Lindor chocolates in a beautiful little bowl.

The food was superlative. Her husband likes to cook and he prepared fantastic meals for us. We got there at 9 a.m. and he started us with a breakfast of French toast to die for. After we had stitched for a few hours, he took us out to lunch for clam chowder in Deale. For dinner (very late), he fixed a delicious dinner of steak, potatoes and asparagus. Dorothy and I helped prepare dinner on Sunday. It took us three hours to prepare the ingredients and only 20 minutes to cook it! We had the best Cajun jambalaya I’ve ever tasted, and Bob did his best Justin Wilson imitation while we worked in the kitchen! I’ve never eaten collard greens with such wonderful flavor. And for dessert, we had peaches marinated in peach schnopps and covered with Hagendaas Ice Cream. Wow! I was certain that I had gained 5 pounds over the weekend; and yet, when I weighed myself this morning, I had not gained an ounce.

While we were fixing the dinner goodies, I tried my hand at preparing Margaritas, using their new Margarita machine. It was one of those trial and error things, so I made several batches…and wouldn’t you know that each batch got better than the last? Hmmm, maybe WE got better! Yummy!

KJ’s priest joined us for dinner Sunday night and when we sat down at the table, he proceeded to tell us about one of his parishioners, a detective, who was called to a house where they’d found the owner face down in the tub, covered with Cheerios. “Oh my gosh, really?” Of course I believed him…he’s a priest for goodness sakes…but THEN he says “Yes, they are now on the trail of a cereal killer.” Moan! Groan! I couldn’t believe I fell for that!!! All those Margaritas must have addled my brain, because I'm SURE I heard that one before. I could not resist: “Now that’s just plain corny.” Then things really deteriorated after that.

H was invited to come for the weekend, but he wanted to stay home and finish the dining room. I would have loved to have him there with us, but he certainly gets more done when I'm not there. He and Bob have a lot in common. No, H is not a gourmet cook. But they both like motorcycles, and they both do major house remodeling jobs. I’ve always said there is nothing as sexy as a man who can both practice law and build a house (my favorite husband, for example). Well, Bob and KJ are both rocket scientists. So, Bob is a rocket scientist who can build a house AND cook a gourmet meal. Anyway, H agreed to come pick me up Sunday so we could all go to lunch together.

Yesterday morning, while KJ was off doing something and Bob was reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee, I asked him if he ever sat back and thought how good life was, with his beautiful wife, beautiful house, and two beautiful dogs. He smiled at me and gave me a knowing nod. Life is very good. I’m hoping that KJ will come to my house in July or August so that I can return the hospitality.

And life is very good for me, too! When we got home and I walked into the house, I saw that the dining room is finished! Most of the furniture was back in place and all we had to do was put the piano back where it belongs. No easy feat! A neighbor came over and helped us move it. Then we put the rugs down … and do you think we ate dinner in that new dining room? No way! The day was so gorgeous that we ate outside on the porch and the breeze carried the scent of my roses up to us.

Life is very good indeed! Tomorrow I will call the piano tuner. I'm in a very good mood right now.

I Dreamed of Ziggy Last Night

2008-05-24T00:15:00.002-04:00

Last night, I dreamed that Ziggy came home to us. In the dream, I didn't know where he had been, but I was so happy to see him. I was worried that he wouldn't like Kira, that he would be jealous, and perhaps attack her. But he didn't. He was fine with her, and she was fine with him. The cats were not in this dream. Both of the dogs came to me as I sat on the sofa, Ziggy with his big beautiful expressive eyes, and Kira standing tall with her long fur and paddle feet. I remember thinking how nice it was to have them both there, and wondering how on earth our house would handle TWO German Shepherd dogs. And then I woke up.

Sure enough, Ziggy is still gone. But Kira is still here. There's only one German Shepherd dog in this house. Tonight, she was so content to sleep on her bed in the living room with us, while we ate our dinner and watched Ramsey's Nightmare Kitchens on the BBCAmerica channel. We love that potty-mouthed Ramsey.

Invasion of the Caps and Gowns

2008-05-19T17:14:00.003-04:00

Yesterday morning, I went into DC to have coffee with a friend who lives on the Hill. Even though the sky was a little overcast, it was a gorgeous temperate day, great for tourists and locals alike. I noticed that a lot of roads were closed. I didn’t know why they were closed, but it didn’t matter to me because the route I took into DC was not affected by closures. My friend and I hadn't seen each other for months, so we sat in the back garden of a cosy little coffee house on H Street and caught up with the events of our lives. We talked about living in the Washington area and what we want to do with our old houses. She lives in a fantastic 110-year-old brick townhouse with large gracious rooms and high ceilings. I live in a 100-year-old American foursquare with a big wrap-around porch and the smell of old shellac. Some people cannot tolerate the idea of living in an old house, but we both love our old houses. We love DC, too, even though when it comes to traffic, DC is the second worst location in the country, after LA. Well, traffic be damned, we love it here.

OK, so I have no idea why I decided to drive home down Constitution Avenue afterwards. I certainly knew better! On any given day, there are droves of tourists strolling around gawking at the monuments and buildings. You can always tell the tourists by the way they dress, and the way they wander into traffic, walking out into the middle of the street to take photos of the Capitol Building and other uniquely DC sights. And the bus herds! They gather about the Mall and the Museums, holding up traffic, blocking your view of the street, jockeying for a space to park and wait for their tours to return. As annoying as all of this can be, I really enjoy watching the tourists in DC…so long as they don’t interfere too much with my commute. Now the buses …they are another thing…

Anyway, yesterday was different from the usual tourist-filled weekend day in DC. I astutely noticed this as I struggled down Constitution, from the Hill to the Potomac. In addition to the usual tourists, all along the way, there were waves of people, nicely dressed, crossing the streets, trying to flag down the limited (and insufficient) number of taxis. Sprinkled here and there were the graduates, wearing their gowns (and medals around their necks), holding their mortar boards, flanked by proud parents and other relatives. Some of the graduates looked a little like deer in the headlights, while others exuded confidence and promise. Some of the parents gawked at the monuments and buildings like tourists, but mostly they carried their graduate’s stuff. I remember how often I felt like a pack mule when the elusive offspring lived here, before going away to his elusive university life. “Here, Mom, would you hold this for me?” And darned if I wasn’t happy to hold whatever awkward or heavy thing he handed me. Proud, even.

Driving down Constitution Avenue yesterday at noon, I felt … well, nostalgic.

This Whole Primary Process Depresses Me

2008-05-16T14:04:00.010-04:00

I had not intended to discuss politics in my blog. Politics depress me enough without writing about them. But, yesterday, I received an e-mail from a friend (the sister of my best friend), addressed to me and a few other friends, and I can't get the whole incident out of my mind. It was a very angry e-mail, but it was not by any means directed at me. Instead, she directed her rage against mysogysm in this country and a general lack of outcry when media commentators have used gender slurs against Clinton. She is especially angry with the DNC for not protesting this treatment of Clinton.

I totally agree with her on that point, but where I don't agree is how she turned her rage on Obama, as if his existence created the mysogyny problem. Between all the angry comments about Obama, what she was really saying was that, if racist slurs had been made, the offending commentator would be fired, but not if sexist slurs were made. Don Imus was her example (not a particularly good example, because his remarks were both racist AND sexist). She and her two sisters have at various times threatened (if Obama wins) to: 1) not vote at all; 2) write in Hillary's name; or 3) vote for McCain. I agree with her that there would probably be more outcry over a racist remark than a sexist one.

Personally, I like both of the Democratic candidates, and at the same time I have my concerns about them. At any given time I might be disappointed with one or the other, but not enough to make me angry, like my friends. I have seen both candidates suffer at the hands of the other's campaign. I have heard both racist and sexist comments against them. I'm very aware of the microscopic examination each has endured. Did she or did she not? Is he or is he not? And I wonder, can anyone stand up to such scrutiny? It's hard for either of them to really focus on the issues, because in actuality, they have very similar stands. Obviously, they are not exactly the same on the issues, but in essence, they are very close. After all, they are both Democrats. The internet is that wonderful thing that allows you to check out their websites at any time of the day or night.

But here's what got me in trouble. My friends (the sisters) know I was once a Republican, a "personal failing" they tried to ignore for the most part in those days long ago. Then I became an Independent, and that lasted a decade. But now, I freely admit that I became so disillusioned by the Republican party that I am now a Democrat. OK, so whether you think that's a failing or not, I am now of the same party as my friend and her sisters. After yesterday's e-mail exchange, I wonder if I am of the same party after all.

I have received many angry e-mail messages from friends during this primary process (for and against both candidates). I have not responded to them because ...well, maybe I thought I was taking the moral high-ground by not getting into it, but really because it's more difficult to write an argument than to speak it. Maybe I knew subconsciously that what happened yesterday would in fact happen if I responded. I knew better than to get these particular friends started. But for some stupid reason or another unknown to me, I responded to this last one. In essence, I said that, as a Democrat, I intended to vote Democratic in November, whether for Obama or Clinton. And I added: Not everyone who supports Obama is a mysogynist and not everyone who supports Clinton is a racist. This only unleashed a tirade from my best friend, basically, an attack on me for not sharing her opinion (something distressingly familiar to what I used to endure way back when I was a dreaded Republican).

After a couple more misguided e-mails on both our parts (probably arguing across each other), I cut the exchange short saying that I believe friendships will be lost over this election, and I don't want ours to be among them. But what I started thinking about was this: My reaction was to my friend's Clinton-supporter aggression toward Obama, a reaction I also have when Obama supporters turn their agression on Clinton. We're not talking about Republicans here...we are talking about Democrats against Democrats. Somehow, we have become like the Republican party I left long ago inthat we are no longer a unified party. In my opinion, it has put the Dems in a real position of weakness, and that is the shame of it.

I believe that this country suffers from both mysogyny AND racism (and a few other -isms and phobias as well), and sadly, they are not going away any time soon. What I focus on is this: setting mysogyny and racism aside, we have reached a fantastic point in history where we have both a white woman and a black man running for the office of president, and whichever one gets the nod as the Democratic candidate has a very real possibility of making it to that top position. That is, if the Democrats don't sabatoge their chances by doing what my friends threaten: either to stay home and not vote (ok by me because both Maryland and California tend to vote Democratic anyway) or to vote for McCain.

When all is said and done, I recognize that, in their own endearing way, my friends are probably making their displeasure with the process known by making such threats. Still, the whole experience of friend attacking friend has left me very unsettled. I may regret posting this entry as much as I regret having responded to my friend's e-mail in the first place. But here it is anyway.

PS-- Since writing this entry a couple of hours ago, I have gotten a phone call from my friend, who said she was calling me because it's much better to talk in person than by e-mail, and then we were all lovey-dovey-boo-hoo-I'm-so-sorry-and-you-know-I-love-you-more-than-my-luggage. So all is well with her. Then I tried to call her sister (my best friend), left her a message, and she called me back. The conversation was very stiff (she was on her way out to dinner with another friend), but I must assume all is well with her, too. So, no more politics. From now on, I will delete political e-mails and I will never respond to them any more. I promise. Yep, I promise.

Doom and Gloom

2008-05-14T15:44:00.004-04:00

For a couple of weeks, I have had this sense of foreboding...like those low rainclouds we've had lately. It comes and goes. Essentially, I still feel it, but it disappears when I am busy doing something creative or spending time with H or friends. My menagerie has the ability to keep me light-hearted. They are always doing something funny or endearing (and, sometimes something downright disgusting). But the cats and dog are not always with me to keep me up.

I think the feeling of doom comes from a combination of things. POLITICS: this Primary process has gone on way too long. Next time, it should not start so early. The in-fighting among the democrats is depressing. THE WAR: My friend's son just went back to Iraq for his second tour...his first tour lasted four years. He's a great kid and I worry about him. GAS PRICES: for whatever reason the prices are skyrocketing, I hate to see people lose their businesses and jobs (and it's always the smaller businesses that get the worst end of the stick). Sadly, prices will continue to escalate. ECONOMICS: between the sub-prime mortgage fiasco and the greed of credit card companies, I think we have not begun to see the damage. There are so many more people who will be going bankrupt before all is said and done. Not everyone can tell a credit card company to take a hike when they pull another outrageous fee out of their hat. I felt extremely self-righteous when I told one credit card company to close my account and get lost after they raised my interest rate to 15.9%. When asked why, they told me it had nothing to do with my credit rating (which, I'm glad to say, is excellent). It was just a business decision affecting almost all of their customers. When they refused to lower it again, I told them what they could do with that credit card. I love my shredder. But not everyone can do that. More people SHOULD do that, but they don't. GLOBAL WARMING: Too depressing to talk about. I try to do my tiny little part by not driving too much (and luckily I live very close to where I work), by recycling everything I can possibly recycle. It's just too sad and gloomy. FRIENDS: my friend, Lea, just spent the night in the hospital last night when she experienced pressure in her chest. They kept her for observation. But as of today the good news is that it did not appear to be cardiac related. Personally, I think she is under a great deal of stress.

I have a really bad headache right now. I just got back from the dermatologist, who froze three tiny "pre-cancerous" areas on my forehead at the hairline. Throb, throb! Being a fair-skinned redhead can be a pain in the you-know-what. She says not to worry because I've done a good job keeping out of the sun and taking care of my skin but it's not easy. And if I'd done such a "good job" why do I have this "pre-cancerous" stuff, huh? What's that all about? She says "pre-cancerous" is benign. It just means I have to keep going in to see her every six months to check it out. What a headache.

The elusive offspring called this morning to say the album launch was successful. This is his acapella group's second album. I'm supposed to be getting a copy of it as a Mother's Day gift...but that may happen when we get to Scotland in June. He has his first exam this coming Saturday, then he has two more, all spaced out over 9 or 10 days. They all involve such things as multivariable calculus, and lasers, and the like. My singing physicist. Can't wait to see him. He always becomes less elusive when exams are looming (oh, that rhymes with my doom and gloom title!).

So, this seems to be a really rambling post, without any real purpose except to...well...ramble. I'm going to go cut some of my gorgeous roses (they have been so happy with all this rain). I'll just have to keep them from my little Morticia cat, Wolfie. There's nothing like walking in and finding all the rose heads laying on the table around the vase, and and all the stems sticking up out of the vase.

Sweet Dog

2008-05-13T17:33:00.002-04:00

We'd really like to get Kira on a dry-food diet. Mostly because the vet says the dry food is healthier for her and really keeps her teeth clean. Also I don't trust canned food after all the news last year about contamination found in so many brands of dog food and cat food, leading to illness and in some cases death of pets. But we want to get more weight on that dog. So we are in a tough spot.

She's a little bit of a brat, too. She loves the canned food, and will deign eat the kibbles if they are covered with canned food. So, yesterday afternoon, I tried an experiment and dropped about a dozen kibbles in Kira's bowl to see if she would eat them. She sniffed them and looked back at me with disappointment...clearly not intending to eat those dried up things.

But the cats zoomed right in on them. "Hey," I said to Kira, "That's YOUR dinner. The cats are going to eat it up." I swear that dog knew what I was saying. She immediately stuck her head in and started lifting out kibbles and eating them. She was so gentle! Both cats' heads were in the bowl, and she just worked around them. Then when there were just two kibbles left, she moved Wolfie away by just moving her head and she finished the two kibbles off. I wish I'd had a camera with me at the time. She is very sweet.

I wish I had my camera right now! Daily is doing his thing with one of my blouses. When the soft afghan is not available, I guess he just has to make do with what's around. He's wierd.

Must go. A friend is stopping by this evening.

Rain, rain and more rain

2008-05-12T16:15:00.003-04:00

It's been raining steadily since 3:00 yesterday afternoon. The basement has a shim of water on the concrete (which is why I call it the dungeon), but luckily, no flooding. There is a crack in the floor where the water came bubbling UP yesterday, but it went straight into the drain. Thank goodness we are on a hill. Kira seems to be completely unafraid of rain or thunder. Ziggy hated thunder storms, or any loud noises. He really hated to go outside in the rain, but he liked to play in water (especially a running sprinkler hose). Kira, on the other hand, is perfectly willing to be in the rain. In fact, she is perfectly willing to lay down in the wet grass in the rain. I like the rain, too. I just want to keep warm in it.

This reminds me of a story. In 2002, I took my mom to Scotland. It does indeed rain a lot in Scotland, and I really love it. It smells wonderful. It feels wonderful. It makes me want to PAINT. Anyway, enough of that. Back to the story. A friend of mine joined us in Edinburgh and went out to the Western Highlands with us, specifically Fort William. One afternoon, we left the B&B to walk around the pedestrian mall and visit the shops. There was a slight mist in the air; I wouldn't even call it a drizzle. Less than 15 minutes into the walk, my mom (who was wearing one of those ridiculous clear plastic things on her head, in addition to holding an umbrella the size of New Jersey) turned to me in exasperation: "Please call me a taxi. I want to go back to the B&B. I have to get out of this pouring rain."

So we sent her back to the very comfy B&B, where the host and hostess graciously served her tea and cakes in front of the fireplace in a beautifully appointed solarium (yes, even in Scotland, they have solariums). Of course, my friend and I had a wonderful time, stopping in every pub so that we could try a different kind of scotch in each one. In Scotland, there are hundreds of yummy varieties, because it is, after all, Scotland. I brought home a little sample bottle of each one we tried so my favorite husband (who had stayed home with the then-not-so-elusive offspring) could share in the experience. Another thing we were able to do was listen to live music in smokey pubs...kilted musicians singing and playing bagpipes. Mom would not have tolerated the smokey atmosphere and loud music. Oooch, but it was lovely!

I think my love of Scotland started when I was very young, long before I ever saw the country, and I'm sure it has to do with race memory. I especially love the ruggedness of the Western Highlands. I'm not really so far removed from my Scottish heritage, only a few generations back. Of course, I believe my family clan (Scott) was a lowland clan, and judging by the way I love the Scottish sheep, there were probably some sheep thieves back there somewhere. But I still absolutely love the highlands.

Someday, I'd like to do a really thorough research into that part of my family tree. Separate the passed-down stories from reality. At any rate, I can't wait to get back there in June! I can smell it now!

Ok, so we took Kira in and weighed her yesterday. What a disappointment to find out we have only put THREE pounds on her!!! She eats now. But she's still not putting on the pounds the way I had hoped. We have at least 15 pounds to go. At a minimum. You can still feel her spine and hipbones, but not as sharply as when we got her. People aren't looking at us as if we are abusing her. I think that's because her coat is getting so lush. Obviously the food is doing a good job of shining and thickening her coat. Scarey thought: is it the thicker coat that gives her more weight? Right after we got her, the vet confirmed that she does NOT have worms. On the other hand, maybe I should be glad she's putting it on slowly, because it is a healthier way to do it.

Slight Setback

2008-05-09T15:21:00.005-04:00

This is my day to work from home. All was well for the morning, but I decided to go out at 12:30 to check out a new needlepoint store not far from me and pick up lunch, too. Thank goodness I put Kira and the cats in the family room. When I got back, there was a familiar aroma, one I had hoped not to smell any more. Yep, she did the deed. In the family room. On the tile. She pooped AND peed. And the pee soaked the bottom of a box, one of about 10 I have piled in the room waiting for me to finish going through the old papers. One of the disadvantages of being a lawyer is that you never want to throw anything away. It's an affliction they give you when you go to law school. Or you get it when you see what happens when people don't have necessary documents -- even a simple 2-inch by 2-inch piece of paper that shows you paid off a $7000 loan, which is from my own experience, of course, and a whole story on its own.

Anyway, I spent an hour cleaning the floor, and emptied the contents of the box; yikes, they were photos! Combined the photos into another box. I did all this without showing any anger or impatience, but with a real air of martyrdom. And Kira knew. She has been very subdued.

So, I'm going to knock off work now and go through papers. I have a vanilla candle burning to help get rid of that lovely stinky odor. I wonder why she didn't do it outside. Maybe it's because we have had solid rain for a day. Maybe she didn't want to stand out in the rain and do it.

Tomato Tale (or Circular Reasoning)

2008-05-08T22:43:00.000-04:00

During the spring last year, I decided to take a day off from work. A mental health day, as it were. Like it has been this spring, the weather was gorgeous, and I left the front door open so that Ziggy could look out and watch for the Truck God. Every once in a while he would stand up and turn around in a circle several times and then lay down again and look outside. It's like he thought if he spun around enough, H would come home in the truck. But this was before noon, and he had some waiting to do.

I went back through the kitchen to open windows in the family room to allow a nice cross-breeze to come through the house, and as I walked through the kitchen, I saw that the three tomatoes I had left in a bowl on the counter were not in the bowl any more. They were positioned around the bowl. "Why did H take these tomatoes out of the bowl," I wondered, and I put them back into the bowl.

Suddenly I remembered that I had left the door to our bedroom open. A few years ago I knitted a VERY soft afghan that I leave on the foot of our bed. Daily loves that afghan. He stands on top of it, holding part of it in his teeth, and turns around and around, with his eyes crossed and all four feet making biscuits on the afghan, twisting the part that he has in his mouth. "Awwww," a friend said when I told her about this phenomenon, "he thinks it's his mommy." No. Not quite. He thinks it's a little girl kitty. Trust me. I know. Every once in a while I'll hear the sound of him jumping off the bed (Whump!) and I know where he's been and what he's been up to. Sure enough, he trots down the stairs, flops onto the rug in the living room and looks so self-satisfied that you'd expect him to light up a cigarette!

So on this fine day I that I chose to stay home, I forgot to close the bedroom door. That had to be remedied! I ran past the dog, spinning at the door waiting for the Truck God, and up the stairs to find Daily, standing on top of the bed, with a part of the soft afghan twisted up in his teeth, looking cross-eyed at me. I scooped him up, rearranged the afghan nicely on the bed again, and took him out of the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind me.

Down the stairs we went, past the dog spinning in the door waiting for the Truck God. I dropped Daily on the floor in the living room and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea, and what did I see? The tomatoes...OUT of the bowl again. Huh??? I looked around. No one there. So I put the tomatoes back in the bowl, started the tea kettle, and went back past the spinning dog to the living room, where Daily was smoking his imaginary cigarette. At which point I heard a noise in the kitchen.

Aha! I raced past the spinning dog and smoking cat into the kitchen to find Wolfie, standing on top of the kitchen counter, lifting the tomatoes out of the bowl by their stems! He turned to look at me, with one of the tomatoes still in his teeth! What the!!!

And that's my story about a spinning dog named Ziggy, a smoking cat named Daily, and a little four-legged chef named Wolfie. EO may be gone, but there is never a dull moment in our household.

This n That

2008-05-08T12:46:00.002-04:00

EO has a little bit of a hangover today... I just talked to him. He's very subdued, but it's clear he is looking forward to our visit. Me, too! I love Scotland! (Oh, and I love EO, too, of course.)

The other night when I got home from work, the weather was fantastic. So I poured a glass of wine and took Kira out onto our big wraparound porch and opened the mail. We live on a cul-de-sac that leads into a bike path, and as a result we have more bike and foot traffic than most places. I can’t begin to count all the people who walk their dogs up the street. Kira barked at the first dog that walked by and I shushed her. She “boofed” at the next dog. When the third one went by, she was quiet. I told her what a good girl she was. She was quiet with the next three or four dogs. I was so proud of her. Then a neighbor said hi to me as she walked by, and Kira started barking. So we still need to work on it. But it's great that my vision has come true: Me, sitting on the front porch drinking a glass of wine after a day at work, and my faithful companion, Kira, sitting next to me.

In conjunction with trying to be the calm and assertive pack leader recommended by Cesar Millan, I have also been reading a book called “The Dog Bible” which says you should ignore the bad behavior and reward the good behavior. It seems to work very well for some things. For example, she used to get overly excited when I came home from work, barking and wining, rearing up and putting her paws on me. I like that she is happy to see me (in fact, I love that she's happy to see me), but I don’t want her leaping up on me or knocking me over. I want her to understand that I will pay attention to her after I have put down my bags down and brought in the mail. So, I’ve started ignoring her until she becomes calm and still. I’ve even turned my back to her when she starts to leap up, which she seems to understand. It must be some sort of doggy language. Then as soon as she has relaxed (which happens quickly now), I turn and give her lots of hugs and kisses. She loves hugs and kisses; she is female, after all. And she is SO smart (she is female, after all). In only three days she had figured it all out. Now she waits politely while I put my things down…AND while I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. Then I come downstairs again and greet her and we go outside so she can do her business. She is very attached to me. I’ve never had a dog of my own, and it’s so gratifying that she’s mine. I don't know what I did to deserve such devotion from a dog.

Daily is trying to make a break for it these days. I opened the door yesterday to let Kira out to do her business, and Daily scooted right under her legs and out the door. I didn't realise it right away. Of course, he's such a goof: he meowed the moment he went out, so, although I did not SEE him go out (because he was under Kira), I heard him. It's like Sadie (long gone now) used to do when she did something naughty. I would not know that she had taken small articles of clothing out of the laundry basket (yes, I'm talking about those) and put them in places of her own choosing, like under the sofa. But when I looked at her, she'd make this loud "meow" as if to say "Nothing." It was an unmistakable meow. And I'd know immediately that I needed to look around to see what she had done. It looks like Daily has the same vocal affliction. So I captured him, brought him back inside the house, and gave him a severe dose of corporal cuddling as recommended by those clever engineers on youtube:

I also call it his "Daily abuse." My little Wolfie cat is a naughty boy as well. He's my little devil cat. I have a magnificent rose garden in front of the house, and I have to be very careful about bringing in cuttings. Like Morticia on the Adamms Family, Wolfie likes to bite the heads off of long-stemmed roses and just leave the stems and thorns. He is a master at redecorating.

Maybe tomorrow I'll tell the Tomato Tale.

Birthday bonfire

2008-05-07T21:19:00.006-04:00

We just got off the phone with the quite enebriated and not-so-elusive 21-year-old offspring. It is 2:00 a.m. in Scotland and he and 20 of his closest friends have built a bonfire on the shore of the North Sea in honor of his BD. They brought their own bottles of Scotch and beer to help celebrate the event. His experience up until now has been far more interesting than mine was. My entire school experience was in Texas. That's not to say Texas isn't interesting, because Texas is wonderful. But the EO is not just out of Virginia for his education; he's out of the country. And his education is certainly more than academic, I'd say. I once told him that he should cherish these years at university...they are the years he will spend the rest of his life trying to recapture. Lucky EO.

Happy Birthday Elusive Offspring

2008-05-06T23:02:00.004-04:00

On the eve of the elusive offspring's 21st birthday, I find myself thinking about what I was doing 21 years ago at this time. Well, I was drugged and working hard to help the little guy to make an appearance. It's hard to believe the six-foot-two ginger-head was once a mere nine pounds. My cats weigh more than that! Once he got here, my life was completely devoted to him. Day and night. We were lucky that he was such an easy-going baby. I'd rock him to sleep every night at 7:00, singing stuff like "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and "If I Had a Hammer" and "Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley" and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone"...all such lovely happy songs for a baby, right? But hey, I knew the words.

He started sleeping through the night at three months. It was a bit scarey the morning we awoke at 7:00 and I looked at H and said "Oh, I didn't wake up when you took care of the baby last night." He looked at me "I thought YOU took care of him." And we both rushed to the bassinette to make sure he was allright, and there he was, doing the wake-up stretch. From then on, he slept from 7 at night to 7 in the morning and we loved it. Of course, when he reached three or four, he wanted to go to bed later and get up earlier. Why is it that they get up so early when they are young, but when they reach the teen years (and the elusive university life years), they can sleep through thunder storms and vacuum cleaners ... until three in the afternoon?

The kid turned out pretty good, if you ask me. Of course, I'm his mom. But, I like the person he has become. He has exceeded any expectations I had when I looked at the baby and wondered what kind of man he would be. He's intelligent, kind and thoughtful, talented, caring, and a very interesting person. Not to mention movie-star attractive...hehehe. Mom's can say that but other people have said it, too.

So, happy birthday, elusive offspring. It's a good thing I now have a dog to keep me busy now.

A Crate Success

2008-04-29T22:25:00.003-04:00

As I already mentioned, we have been leaving Kira out of her crate at night and she has stopped the wolf howling. Today, I took a chance and left her out of her crate while I went to work. I was away for 9 hours, and when I returned everything was as I left it. But Kira was so calm and happy. I took her outside and she did her business. All of it. No more accidents in the house. For most of her life, she has spent most of her waking hours in a crate, and for that reason, we are currently leaving the crate in place, with the door open in case she wants to go into it for security. But I believe she will eventually be completely free of it.

We still need to get more weight on her. We have held off weighing her because of the disappointment from the last weigh-in, when she had LOST two pounds. I am hopeful that she has put on four or five pounds since then. She's still bony, but not as frighteningly skeletal as she was before. H makes me laugh. He has started feeding her with a fork! Well, at least he did it for a couple of meals. I have not personally observed this phenomenon, but I can imagine it... And the image is delightful. He says he doesn't intend to make a habit of it, but it seemed to help her when he did it. It may take her a while, but she does eat her entire meal, usually leaving one or two kibbles for the cats. Ziggy used to inhale his meal as if he was never going to eat again. Not so with Kira. She grazes.

So, we continue to progress. I hope we don't lose ground when we leave her at the kennel during our trip to Europe to visit our elusive offspring living his elusive university life. But that's a month and a half away. Much more progress can be made before then...

Back in Town

2008-04-27T17:52:00.003-04:00

I just got back from a four-day "Stitching" retreat, where I had a blast: stitching (needlepoint), walking in the country, shopping, drinking scotch, and generally having a relaxing fun time. I completed one very intricate project and and made good progress on another. While I was gone, Kira made even more progress. You may be surprised to hear that she is currently sleeping on the floor next to me as I write this...upstairs. As in upstairs where only the cats are allowed. As in upstairs, where I never wanted to have a dog ... taboo for dog fur and dog dribble (but not cats). Yep, she's upstairs with me. She ... earned the priviledge. She is wonderfully devoted to ME. Not the truck god. Me. I love it. And it feels really nice having her up here with me. I earned it too.

Another great bit of progress is that H left her out of her crate during the night and while he went on little errands this weekend. He actually just left the crate open and allowed her to make the decision as to whether she wanted to be in it or not. She stayed out of it and slept with the cats. Is that funny? He did, however, keep her in the tiled family room/kitchen area and she was comfortable enough that she did not howl or jump on the doors. That REALLY feels great. We will leave her out of the crate tonight, too, but not while we are at work this week. We'll get there, though, I'm sure.

She communicates in ways Ziggy never did. Sometimes she just comes up to you and looks you squarely in the face and it's like she telepathically (is that even a word?) lets you know what she wants. I THINK it's the same look every time, but maybe there are subtle differences. Sometimes she wants out to do her business. Sometimes she wants you to uncover her dish so she can finish her meal ... she is a very slow eater and we have to cover her dish so that cats don't become blimps. They REALLY like her food. Sometimes she wants to go for a walk. But she is not demanding about it.

I have had (and loved) many cats, but I have never had a dog until Ziggy. I loved Ziggy very much and I miss him, but this feeling I have for Kira is different. Kira has reached me in a way Ziggy did not. It's the same way that Daily and I connected. There is a sort of bond between us that I never thought I'd have with a dog. Me and a dog? And a dog that gets along so well with my beloved cats? It's a wonderful thing!

Another Reason Why H is my Favorite Husband

2008-04-22T12:13:00.005-04:00

I married a really nice guy, worthy of being anyone's favorite husband, but lucky for me, he's mine. Among the myriad reasons he should be anyone's favorite is this thoughtful thing he did while I was in Houston: Knowing that I like to do the Washington Post Sudoku puzzle every day, H saved every one of them for me so I could do them when I returned. They were neatly stacked on the dishwasher when I came home last Sunday. And now when I sit on the front porch with my glass of wine and Kira beside me in the evenings, waiting for H to come home (I get home before he does), I have a nice pile of Sudokus that I can work through. The easy ones go really fast, which is good because sometimes I work for days on the hard ones. I really love the Samari Sudoku in the Sunday comic section. I have saved every one of those since they started a couple of years ago. I photocopy that one, enlarging it for easier reading, and keep the original. Anyway, H is a nice hub.

I'm nice to him, too, you know. This weekend, I did not prevent him from buying a used motorcycle. I don't like the idea of it, but hey, it seems to be a midlife crisis...wait a minute! He already had a midlife crisis when he bought the BAT (big assed truck), a 2500 Dodge Ram. I remember thinking that a new truck was better than a new red-head. So, what's this motorcycle all about? Can it be yet ANOTHER mid-life crisis? Is that possible? Well, I'll say this: I'd better be HIS favorite wife! (Of course, he's only had one wife: me)

OK, here's the story about the motorcycle. He and my son plan to do a "Long Way Around" kind of tour after the elusive offspring graduates from his elusive university life next year. They won't go as far as Ewan McGregor's and Charlie Boorman's world tour; they will probably just travel Scotland, England and France. But they want to do it on motorcycles. So they are getting some riding hours in ahead of time, making me quite nervous, as I value both of them very much. Originally, I had thought to do the tour with them, but I don't think I'm going to have time to practice enough riding to feel comfortable. So then I thought maybe my sister and I could be their support wagon, but that would be boring, just following them around. Now, I have a new idea. My sister and I could meet up with the guys every third day. Let them do their riding and camping out thing and we could do the tourist thing. We'll see what happens as they start finalizing their plans.

I can't believe I embedded two URL sites in this post. Cool.

Life is Good

2008-04-18T09:42:00.004-04:00

I wish I could bring Kira to work with me. I’d have to bring her cushy bed, so she could sleep on the floor near me, without hurting her boney body. Daily would have to come, too, because he is my familiar and he must be with me always. He would need his litter box, of course. And I should not leave Wolfie out of the equation, so he would have to come, too. I’d need a big bowl of water for them, because desicated pets are never a good thing. I'd need some treats and a toy or two. A nice selection of teas for me and a good kettle to boil the water. Music, you have to have good music when you work. A comfy cosy afghan for when it gets too cold.

Well, heck, I’d need the truck to bring all this stuff in! Why can’t I just work from home every day? My work-at-home day is my very favorite day. I dress any old way. I make a pot of tea and bring it to the computer. I play music at any volume I wish. I open the window shades and have a nice view of the back yard while I work. The cats climb on the desk to look out the window or on the extra chair to sleep. I have fresh vegetables in the fridge for a much healthier lunch than I get at the office.

I notice that I get so much more work done when I work from home. No one comes to my office to bother me. I get fewer calls. One of the days during the week before I went to Houston, I had a specific project I needed to finish, a list of issues in my new case. I figured it would take me 30 minutes to an hour to get it done. So I started. Just as I was getting into the swing of it, I got a phone call about another case with what was supposed to be a quick question. I thought I could stop everything and get the answer, but while I was looking on line for the documents that would give me the answer, an e-mail popped up that required my immediate attention, so I dropped everything to take care of that, at which point there was a knock at my door…my supervisor needed something, and supervisors take precedence. This went on all day, until, by the end of the day, I had at least 8 things to do and nothing had been completed. I have not even mentioned the friends who stopped by to chat … some of them have more difficulty leaving than others. Anyway, by 4:30, I realized that my heightened state of frustration would keep me from accomplishing anything. So I just left everything undone on my desk and went home. The next morning, I got up early and got into the office by 6:30 a.m. I managed to finish the issues list by 7:00. Then I turned to each of the other items and finished them one by one. Fate was with me and I had no major interruptions to prevent me from doing the work. By the end of the day I managed to finish everything that had piled up the previous day, and got ahead of the eight-ball by writing up my case profiles (a tedious job we have to do every week or two) drafting discovery in another case, organizing my files, and putting everything in order for my week away from the office. Dang, that felt good! My desk was so clean it looked like I had no work to do. Hmmm, better rethink that!

As a result of accomplishing all that work, I didn’t give a thought to any of my cases while I was in Houston. Big mistake. I am now swamped. Forget having completed all that stuff before I left. The work piled up again. But, I really can't complain. I do love being a litigator. It is all I ever wanted to do. What’s nice about it is that no case is ever quite the same. Each one is fresh. Sure, you do the usual discovery and motions and briefs, but the details are always different. So much of this can be done from home that I do well away from the office.

And that brings me full circle to the idea of being at home, working, with the cats and Kira nearby, and a nice cup of tea. Which is what I am doing now...well, WAS doing before I interrupted myself to write this post. Now, back to work. Life is good.

Irresistible

2008-04-17T22:46:00.004-04:00

A friend sent this to me...if you love cats, you will really love this. I laughed so hard that the guy in the office next to mine had to come over and see if I was all right!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHXBL6bzAR4

Anyway, you gotta love a guy that loves cats! And this one REALLY understands them!

Even if you don't love cats, this is worth watching.

Progress (Part II)

2008-04-17T12:50:00.005-04:00

My favorite husband and I talked last night about how Kira is coming along. Wait, before I go on, let me explain about the reference to "my favorite husband." Whenever I say that, people often ask "how many husbands have you had?" ... which appears to be the obvious conclusion. Or is it? Well, let me say that I've only had one husband: Out of all the husbands there are in the world, H is my favorite one. He just happens to be mine. It's so simple. The English language is a wonderful thing.

OK, so back to the conversation we had about how far Kira has come in the last three and a half weeks. Here are some mile stones.

1. She comes instantly when called. We can let her go off leash when we are in the back yard. I've also let her off leash in the unfenced park that all my neighbors use as a dog park. But I’m not quite ready to leave her off leash when we are far away from the house.

2. She is not a wild child any more. She no longer runs through the house between the front door and back door, barking madly. She is very calm with us and loves to stretch out on her bed in the living room when we are there. When we are outside, she doesn’t instigate other dogs into a frenzy like she did her two brothers at Karen’s house. She barks and plays, but she's not crazy and wild. Following Caesar's Way, we give her lots of affection when she is in a calm state of mind. And it’s a good thing that she is almost always calm now because it’s impossible to keep your hands off of her. She is an absolutely beautiful, loving dog, with silky fur that must be touched.

3. She doesn’t wolf-sing all night. She sings for about a minute before she sleeps at night. I like that, because her singing is very pretty,but I confess I don’t want to hear it all night. I got an e-mail from Karen who says that Kira always howled when she wanted to be in the same room with her. Kira does seem to be learning that, even if we are out of her sight, we are still her pack.

4. She does not get on the furniture. Well, we had one funny incident early on when H scared her by clapping his hands at naughty Wolfie (who was about to knock over the Easter cactus), and Kira flew onto the sofa next to me and curled up into a ball as small as Daily, all within two seconds time. I got her off the sofa and put her on her bed and she realized no one was mad at her. I really wonder what happened to Kira before Karen got her. There was another incident right before I went to Houston. I had gone upstairs to take a call from my sister. H was out of the room, too. I don't know what happened, but suddenly we heard a terrible racket and raced down stairs to see a frightening sight: one of my Tiffany-style lamps was moments away from hitting the hardwood floor. Kira was sitting nervously on her bed. The lamp was propped half against my sheet-covered loom and half against the sofa, barely holding on. Certain items (loom, piano) are still covered with sheets in the living room because we are not quite finished with the dining room rennovation project. Anyway, I have no idea how Kira managed to knock the lamp over, but I think she may have scared herself off the furniture for now. So I call this a milestone.

5. We can now brush her. The first time we tried to brush her, she got so nervous that she peed…thank goodness she was in the back yard at the time. NOT brushing her is not really an option because she has longer fur that must be groomed. At the same time, I don’t want to frighten her. So we have been very careful to use the soft side of the brush and at the same time use our free hand to stroke her. It's funny to see a big GSD so afraid of it, when my little Wolfie Devil-Cat will grab the brush in his two front paws and hold it in place so that he can rub his face all over it. If you even say the word "brush," Wolfie comes running. I do think Kira might actually like it now. She particularly loves to have her face stroked. I give her face massages. Again, I wonder what happened in her previous life before Karen. Did someone try to use her as a show dog in her early life? I understand that show dogs must constantly be brushed. And she is so boney that it must have hurt her. Anyway, I consider it a milestone that she now likes being brushed.

6. She does her business outside now, and this week, she has been very good about going in the morning and in the evening. We have not had any accidents for a week. I really expect her to figure out this aspect of life very quickly. She is an incredibly smart dog. And I don’t blame her for any of the accidents. Although I’m glad we have a tiled family room and kitchen, I think it has caused a bit of confusion for her. At Karen’s, she used the tiny townhouse back yard, which was entirely paved/bricked, and Karen said Kira didn't like to go while on a walk. So, we think she thought she was supposed to use the tiled area in the house. Thank goodness for this milestone.

7. We think we have broken her of the habit of getting up on her back legs to push open a door. It is frustrating that we now have scratches on two of the doors in the kitchen. They are not horrendous scratches, but it bothers us that the house has managed to go for a hundred years without dog scratches on the doors, until now. She still manages to push open the door from the kitchen to the family room to let the cats out (we close them into the family room while she eats because they REALLY like her food). I think she uses her nose to open the door now, because she's quiet about it.

8. It’s SO easy to clip her claws! She is such a princess! Technically, Karen accomplished this milestone with her, but I just wanted to include it in the great Kira accomplishments.

9. She is great with kids and adults, and other dogs. Where Ziggy was unbelievably dominant around other dogs, Kira is willing to be everybody’s friend and loves playing. She is intimidated by some dogs. Ziggy was completely fearless; no dog or person ever scared him. He was very confident, but not mean in the least. He was aloof, but willing to meet people. Kira is a total kid magnet. She loves the attention. I think that the elusive offspring is going to find her to be a “chick magnet” too, if he ever returns from his elusive university life.

10. She smiles now, that big smile that is so typical of German Shepherd dogs. And she does the puppy ears when I lean down to hug her. That is one of my all-time favorite things. I love to see those giant (and I mean GIANT) pointed ears go down over her neck like a puppy, and her big grin, with tongue hanging out. Damn, that’s sweet!

Things aren't all coming up roses just yet. Here are things we would like to accomplish with her:

1. We’d like to put some more weight on her. Ideally, at her height, she should weigh close to 80 pounds. She's only 58-60 pounds right now. We plan to take her in and weigh her soon, but we don't want to be disappointed again. It’s hard to get her to eat. It’s never the same any two meals in a row. No two breakfasts or dinners are the same. Karen suggested that we try using some low-fat peanut butter (apparently low fat is necessary because dogs don't do well with fat; they need protein). So, we will continue to be as patient as we can. I give her little bits of cheese and egg sometimes. And I have discovered some treats that she likes. She is such a spoiled little brat. What I'd REALLY like in the long run is to get her on the dry food exclusively. It's so much better for her teeth and regularity. The frustrating thing is that the cats are sneaking her food (even at the same time she is eating, which tells you how sweet she is with the cats), and the cats are getting fatter and Kira is still skinny!

2. We’d like to know for certain that she will do her business outside in the morning and at night before bedtime, so we can get her out of the crate. Karen said she would wake her at midnight or one in the morning to go outside. We’d like not to have that. I feel like we are making great headway on this issue. No more about bathroom habits, please.

3. She still wants to put her paws on us when we are seated. It’s cute, but it just ain’t right. For one thing, you don’t want muddy paw prints on your nice clothing. For another, it’s a form of “domination.” Also, she can scratch you accidentally. This is a very hard habit to break.

4. I’d like to completely break her of the habit of jumping up on us when we are standing. We are doing well with this by taking a step forward and bumping into her as she jumps up. It throws her off balance and she doesn't like that. We have gone a good way toward breaking this habit. I think she would do well with some agility training. We could both use it!

5. I'd like to have control over her barking. But then, this is a universal desire when it comes to most German Shepherd dogs. I don't mind if she barks once or twice when someone comes to the door, but I'd like her to stop when I tell her to. She barks so much when she is at the dog park, too. It's like she thinks it is part of the play process...maybe it is. Heck if I know. I have absolutely no idea how to stop the barking.

Almost ten years ago, my friend Patti (suburbanlife-patti) suggested that we really needed a dog. She suggested this many times. My response was always "No, no, no, I'm sure we don't need one of those. We have cats. I'm a cat person." Then came Ziggy, and my life changed. As I explained in an earlier post, we "rescued" him, and I figured he would probably be the only dog we ever had. It would be good for the then-not-so elusive offspring to have a dog. And the hub really needed a companion to go and do guy things with on weekends. But I really didn't think I needed a dog. I had my cats; they go so well with books and music and tea, right? Hah! I have discovered that you just gotta have both! Cats and dogs really DO go together. That's all there is to it!

I know this is another long post. I seem to do that. But it may be the last one for a while, because I'm going to have a very busy weekend. I'm taking a needlepoint workshop and probably won't even touch the computer during that time. Instead, I'm going to be turbo-stitching, trying to finish as much of the project as I can before the end of the weekend. If I figure out how to do it, I'll try to post a photo of the project. It's a really pretty design.

Spring in DC

2008-04-16T12:34:00.003-04:00

Texas has some of the most beautiful and varied land in the country, all in one giant state. It takes a whole day to drive from the tip of the west end of the state to the east border. You have orchids in the Big Thicket and bluebonnets in the hills around Austin. There’s the Colorado River and the Davis Mountains. There’s the Rio Grande and Big Bend. The rugged land around San Angelo and the tropical land around Houston. Roses in Tyler. Cactus in Midland. Jackrabbits, windmills, oil, cattle, horses (yeah!), silicon technology (yes, even in Texas). Boots, don’t forget the boots! Pick-up trucks. Coors. I could go on. Texas is unique. I loved it when I lived there, and I love going back to visit.

So now that I have waxed poetic on Texas, let me tell you something about the area where I live. I drive home from work every day past the nation’s Capitol, down Constitution Avenue, past all the beautiful federal buildings, and the Washington Monument, and the White House. Last week, the cherry trees were bursting with pink blossoms that fall off the branches like snow. To the left, I pass the Viet Nam Memorial, the Jefferson Memorial (so gorgeous when viewed through cherry blossoms), and the Lincoln Memorial (sparkling white in the sunlight). To the right is the Kennedy Center and that infamous Watergate. Then I cross the Potomac River, and if I stay on Route 50 I pass the Iwo Jima Memorial on the left, and that is always quite a sight, crowded with tourists right now. But if I take the GW Memorial Parkway, I have the Potomac River to one side, with all the crew teams out on the water. And bald eagles! They are making a strong comeback. Sometimes they swoop down across the road in front of the car (scarey), and there is no mistaking that reddish body with the white head and tail feathers. We have red-tailed hawks here just as we do in Houston, and I've seen a couple of golden eagles when heading out Route 66 toward West Virginia. They are so much bigger than red-tailed hawks. And buzzards (yikes, they are HUGE). Cormorants, we have those, too. Some foxes hang out in the big park near us, deer, too. I have been taking this drive for more years than I want to admit, and I never, ever tire of it. I think I live in one of the most beautiful areas in the world.

After law school, we came to the area thinking we would have our “Washington year.” Every lawyer should have a “Washington year.” But we got Potomac fever and our “year” became “years.” Many years. We bought a house, our elusive offspring was born here and attended school here, and now lives his elusive university life in Scotland. I love this area as much as Texas. But when I go to LA to visit my friend Tracy, I love California, too! And New Mexico. And Wyoming. Connecticut. Maine. America the Beautiful.

That’s enough of that. I’m in a strange mood today. It’s spring and spring makes me giddy.

Progress (Part I)

2008-04-15T20:15:00.000-04:00

I mentioned before that Kira is a nurturer. For example, the first day I met her, she carefully licked some scratches on my wrist, and there was another time early on when she licked a neighbor’s broken thumb. Little Nurse Kira…please, I’m not being sexist…Little Doctor Kira just doesn’t work. Anyway, it turns out that she is also a bit of a champion for the little guy. Last night, the hub took her to the dog park while I went to a meeting, and of course she had a great time playing with all the other dogs. He told me that at one point there was a larger dog that got a little too rough and too dominant with a smaller dog, and the smaller one started yipping. Kira immediately went over and put her body between the two dogs to separate them. Apparently it was very obvious to the people in the park, because they commented on how she was protecting the little dog. I wish I had seen it! Little Officer Kira, the peace keeper.

Yet, the other day, she wasn’t quite the kind and loving creature we know her to be. She scared Daily into a hedgehog when she got a little rambunctious. He ran through the room and she reached out with her big paw to hold him down, and poor Daily instantly became twice his normal size, fur sticking out everywhere, and he shot upstairs like a rocket. He had to be coaxed back down to us. Of course, the next minute, both Kira and Daily were sitting next to each other at my feet so I could pet them both. I don’t want Kira to be jealous of Daily, but Daily is my best little buddy, my muse, my familiar (please don’t burn me at the stake). He doesn’t get to leave the house like Kira does, but he gets to climb on the bed with us and Kira doesn’t. Kira may only weigh 60 pounds, but she is huge. I think she is as tall as an Irish Wolfhound. I love her, but I don’t want her in bed with us.

We took her to the park again this evening, and she's really fun to watch. She barks a lot, but it's not aggressive. That's how she riled up her brothers at Karen's house, but it doesn't work the same at the park. I'm hoping she will figure that out and stop barking so much. Actually, she seemed to do it less as time went by. H noticed that her back legs seem to be getting stronger. And when you feel her shoulders, you can tell there is no real muscle on the bones. Boy. That makes me feel bad. We think getting her out of the crate as much as we can is building her muscles. I wish we could get her out of the crate permanently. It’s just taking time and patience. She is actually still attached to the thing, but little by little she is letting us know that she wants to stay out of it. I know that the crate is not a bad thing for dogs. I think it can be an excellent tool. But at the same time, I’d really like the family room and kitchen to be her “crate.”

She is so thin. It’s not like we starve her. We have given her every type of canned food known to man (and dog). We add cheese to her meals. We’ve given her egg yokes on top. I've given her rice. We even mixed some pats of butter in her food (yum, she loved that!). Like most German Shepherds, she loves cheese. Ziggy would have done anything for cheese…he was the ultimate cheesehound. I hope more than anything that we see weight gain the next time we put her on the scale. We were so distressed when we found out she weighed 58 pounds last time we took her in. What to do!

I'm hoping that the more we take her out to play and exercise, the hungrier she will get. I don't like having to explain to people that we are not starving her. This morning, I stayed in the kitchen and encouraged her to eat. When she finished the bowl, I told her what a good girl she was. But she has not eaten her entire dinner tonight. We will be patient. I think she will eat it, but it will probably take all evening.

I love this dog. She is similar to Ziggy, and diffrent from Ziggy. She has not replaced Ziggy, but she has filled the hole. I'm glad that, while I was in Houston, she bonded with H. As time goes by, she seems to understand that this is it: we are her pack now. I think I'll send Karen an e-mail giving her an update on Kira's progress.

Home again

2008-04-14T12:39:00.011-04:00

I just got back from a trip to Houston, where we celebrated my Mom's 80th birthday. It was in the 70s and 80s every day, with none of the usual Houston humidity. It was absolutely beautiful weather, and the bluebonnets were out everywhere. Landing at Houston Intercontinental is so easy...the runways are very long. You get to spend a lot of time looking out of the window at the ground. Flying over Lake Houston. Checking out all the new construction in Kingwood. Wondering if that big area really IS Humble. And then you seem to hover over the runway forever before touching down. It is very unlike National Airport, where the runways are the shortest in the country. I can't begin to count the number of rough landings I have experienced at National, and then the intercom comes on and you can hear the laughter in the cockpit as the captain says "welcome to the nation's Capitol from your all-Houston crew," as if the fact they are not from DC explains WHY the landing was so rough. Well, they need not worry. It doesn't matter where the crew hails from...landings at National are simply rough. It's the nature of the airport. And, actually, I don't really mind. I love taking-off and landing.

OK, OK, more information than I needed to share. So, I spent the first part of my trip with my sister... I still don't know how to add a URL address but she's that Girl From Texas. We had a great time, getting a mani-pedi, watching movies (I'm too embarassed to write just how many we watched), stitching, eating out, shopping. She has a cockatoo named Muzetta, named after the character in La Boheme (yes, La Boheme is both my sister's and my favorite opera). This bird is funny. My sister's phone rings and Muzetta says "hello?" If she hears us laughing, she imitates us. You can watch her pretending she is doing the things that we are doing. She bobs her head, flips up the feathers on her head, ruffles her tail...well, um, maybe she's not really imitating us, because we don't have feathers on our heads... she's cute.

But Muzetta hates me. She wants to bite me. Me! I'm the one who plays the Cong game with her (she tosses the Cong and I retrieve it, of course). I'm the one who talks to her: she says "mumble mumble good bird?" and I say "No you are not a good bird." And I whistle at her. But I think she hates me because my sister and I sound so much alike that it confuses her. Or maybe she just doesn't like my red hair. Every time I walked by her cage when she was outside of it, she would lean out as far as she could with her beak opened, ready to bite me if she could only reach me (her wings are clipped, so she can't fly to me). And then, she pretends to be biting me. Seriously! She hits her beak against the floor or the bar four or five times in succession and then looks at me as if to say "that could be you." Sheesh! She hates me.

Then my brother comes over and get this. Muzetta does her little raptor walk to him, works her way up his leg (luckily he wears jeans), using her beak and claws, works her way up his shirt to his chest, then puts her head down on his chest, all lovey-dovey! What's that all about! (Ok, never mind, I know, he's a guy and she's a girl) But HE doesn't play the Cong game with her. He doesn't talk to her or whistle at her. He just looks at her. She loves him.

OK, so my sister has a tiny Himalayan cat named Mimi (yes, also after the character in La Boheme). But Mimi hates me, too! Well, I think she hates everyone. You have to imagine this tiny cat (maybe 7 pounds?), shaved in a plushy "lion cut" and with a puff of dark fur on the tip of her tail, and an attitude the size of a 700-pound tiger! If you walk past her, she hisses at you. If you stand near her, she hisses at you. If you LOOK at her from across the room, she hisses at you. The funny thing about Mimi is that she also gets confused between me and my sister! She forgets that I'm me and not my sister. She comes up to me and rubs against my leg, then looks up and realizes her mistake, and growls at me and swipes at my leg, as if it's MY fault. Sheesh! Mimi hates me.

Lest you think all of my sister's animals are psychotic, she has one other little cat, a Persian named Seamus ... Seamus Heany MacCool, to be precise. She named him partially after the Irish poet and partially after the Irish folk hero Fionn McCoul, but changed the spelling to make him unique. Seamus loves me. He makes up for those other two. He is such a love bug! He does this thing...well, I have to call it a Love Attack, and it goes like this: I was sleeping, or trying to sleep, when something soft and furry launched itself at my neck. It was Seamus...but he was not trying to kill me...at least I don't THINK he was trying to kill me. He just flopped across my neck and squirmed until he was a close as he could get under my chin, and then he rested his head on my face, half burying my eyes and nose, purring like crazy and patting my face with his soft feet. And he does the squinchy eye thing, kitty kisses. He adores my sister. When she works on the computer, he carefully places himself in a position across her arms. He likes to cover whatever papers she is currently working on. Anyway, that's Seamus. Enough about my sister's animals.

On Friday, we met my two brothers at Starbuck's in Kingwood. Mom didn't know we were coming. So when we walked into her house, all she could do was stare at us with her mouth open. She was so funny! She almost cried...or maybe she did. I was so focused on her hand. "Is that meat you're holding in your fist?" I asked. "Yes," she answers as she hugs my younger brother, "I was hungry." My younger brother says "Oh, good, that's good to know. I wondered what was going to be on the back of my shirt." So, the rest of the day, we teased Mom about her "fist meat." We checked to make sure she had plenty of "fist meat" in her fridge.

This came up again the next morning when we awoke to hot air blowing down on us from the vents. 70-something degrees outside and she had the heater on! A house full of people, and she had the heater on. Everyone was sitting around, very hot and uncomfortable, trying to figure out what to do. So I say: "Mom, did you run out of fist meat?" "What?" she says. I ask: "Are you planning to have Offspring Stew for lunch?" "What?" she says. I try to elucidate further: "Well, Mom, you're cooking your kids and I wondered why." At which point, she allowed that it was probably too warm in the house and we should turn off the heater. I brought her a sweater.

For her birthday, I got her a set of three cordless-phones. I got it all set up and taught her how to answer the phone. She wanted to hear how the message machine would sound, so my younger brother called her from the cell phone. There we are, all standing around the kitchen watching my younger brother on his cell phone and my mom holding the cordless phone, but not answering it. Then the message machine beeps and my brother starts this plaintive cry in an almost-Elvis-like voice: "Answer the phone, Mama! Please, Mama! Answer the phone! Mama, I'm begging you!" And my mom stands there with the phone in her hand, watching us all laugh at my pitiful weeping brother. "Mama, please, answer the phone! Don't just stand there looking at it, Mama, answer it, please! It's me! Ple-he-he-hease! Don't leave me here, waiting!" Finally, she presses the answer button, and my brother says in his sweetest voice, "Happy Birthday, Mama, happy birthday." Periodically throughout the day, we played that message and laughed every time as if it was the first. Yes, my little brother is very funny, and very charming.

The best part of the whole trip was the Monopoly game between the brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces. It was a noisy and rowdy game, where a bunch of 20-somethings, and 40-somethings, and 50-somethings acted like school children. This game went on for several hours, during which time we broke for dinner at Outback Steakhouse. For a time, we were kids again. I looked around at my siblings and their kids and my mom, and it hit me that it was much like the birthday celebration my husband's family threw for me in 1993, when my father was still alive. Almost all of us were there, my family and my husband's family, and I remember thinking that it was a day I would remember forever. It was one of those rare occasions where everyone was together, having a great time. Little did I know then that my father would be gone in a year. There is a wonderful saying "Live each day as if it were your last, live each day as if it were your first."

Well, this is enough for one day. By the way, Kira was very happy when I got home. She was so satisfied, having her pack together again. But Daily was even happier...he would not let me out of his sight. When I woke this morning, he was curled up in my arm, purring like crazy. I love that funny little cat.

My Clever Husband

2008-04-05T11:37:00.004-04:00

Kira has had quite a few issues we've been trying to resolve. We have worked out the most major ones, and as a result some of the smaller ones worked themselves out. For example, her freneticism is gone, replaced by a very responsive and relaxed dog ....WHEN we are home and physically with her. She absolutely loves to be with us. And we love to have her with us. She is very social with other dogs, and does not rile them up. She plays very nicely. She walks on leash beautifully. And she comes immediately when called.

She does, however, still wolf-howl when separated from us. She is still in her crate...and not because I want her there. I'd love for her to be OUT of the crate. But she puts herself into it, which tells me she is comfortable there. Also, one of the other issues is that she still has problems pooping appropriately. That means: outside. We have had several accidents since we got her (thank goodness for tile floors). But we are being very diligent and reading the signals very well. I think we will have that issue resolved within the week.

As for the howling, it is something we need to clear up. Although we think it is really rather a sweet and pretty sound, guests might not agree with us. Neighbors might not agree with us. And I think it's a symptom that she is "off-balance" to use Caesar's term.

OK, so here is what the clever hub did. We have a set of portable monitor/intercoms that we used when EO was a teenager. We don't really use them any more. When you want to talk to someone, there is a button you push that makes a beep, or a prolonged tone if you hold it down. The volume control can make that beep really loud. So two nights ago, H put one of the monitors on top of Kira's crate and the other one next to our bed. When we put Kira in her crate (or she put herself in her crate), and we turned out all the lights and went to bed, she started her singing. As soon as she started, H pressed the beep button. He did this every time she howled. She is not stupid. She figured out very quickly that the beep happened when she howled. Within ten minutes, she was quiet, and we had a wonderfully restful sleep Thursday night. Last night, we did the same thing. I think it took less time for her to settle down.

Here's the interesting thing. We are not so sure that it is necessarily sound avoidance training. Sure, she knows that the sound goes away when she stops howling. But we actually think there is a certain amount of comfort to her. This is a strange thing, but we think she sings herself into a sleep mode, and the beeping speeds up the process.

Why do wolves howl? I did a little research, and there's a whole wolf psychology to the howl, which I won't get into here. The pack howls together. They also howl when they get separated, and they wait for a responsive howl. Maybe the beeping is the equivalent of another wolf responding to her. And maybe, just maybe, that is all she needs. Of course, we have only done this two nights. That's not enough to make any of these broad conclusions. Yet, I suspect that our success will continue and she will eventually stop wolf-howling every night. She just needs reassurance that we are her pack and will always be her pack. She needs to know that we always come home to her.

That wolf howl thing is positively primal...to every living creature, including domestic housecats. For example, when I was doing my research, I listened to a few examples on the internet. Poor Daily went nuts! He kept looking out the window, breathing rapidly, and then toward the stairs with huge eyes, finally leaping off the desk to check downstairs. Even ten minutes after I had played the wolf howl, Daily was slinking around the house, looking for the singer. Remember, this is Daily, the cat who never met a dog he didn't like. Wolves must be a different matter. Of course, he WAS practically feral once once upon a time (a story for another time). He would know the dangers. Anyway, it's been a little while since I did that wolf research, and Daily's little kitty psyche is still messed up. Amusing as he is, I feel bad about rocking his foundation. He always felt safe in this house. I hope he feels better soon. Poor little thing. Not! He's the toughest little cat I have ever met. He just happens to know the difference between dog and wolf. And even though many humans think Kira looks like a Wolf, Daily knows the difference. He's fine.

OK, so I'm off to see the Met's simulcast of La Boheme ... fun!

Skinny Kira, protective Kira

2008-04-01T23:19:00.005-04:00

Kira met our vet last night. We are a little concerned about how thin she is. When Karen took her to the vet at the beginning of March in preparation for adopting her out, Kira weighed in at 60 pounds and we knew this was too thin for a dog her size. We have been trying to put weight on her. For some reason, we thought we had succeeded in putting a couple of pounds on her during the week and a half since we got her.

But we could not have been more wrong! Last night, even after eating, she weighed 58 lb! OMG, we were shocked. We have been following the regime Karen set up: half kibbles, half canned food both morning and night for a total of 3 1/2 cups of food. She never eats the entire morning meal, and it takes her a while to get through the evening meal, so I don't think she is going hungry. Although we prefer to feed her dry food only (because, among other benefits, it keeps her teeth cleaner), we asked the vet if we should give her MORE canned food to try to beef her up a bit. He liked that idea and said we should try a whole can of food at night and a half a can in the morning along with kibbles. He wants us to try to get another ten pounds on her, at least, and says that fifteen pounds would look even better. A review of her earlier vet records (Karen gave a copy to us when we got Kira) shows that she had a tapeworm when Karen got her. Because I had forgotten to bring the fecal sample, he suggested that we go ahead and give her a round of worming treatment just to be safe. Tonight, we took the sample in.

Tonight, I put a whole can of food on her kibbles, along with the worm treatment. She ate it, but very slowly, over a span of about an hour and a half. She'd go in and take a delicate ladylike bite and come back out to us, go in and lick the fluid and come back out to us, and this continued for a while until only four or five kibbles were left, and the cats finished those off in short order. We've stopped giving the cats their midnight snacks because they have been getting some of Kira's leftovers. AND they think nothing of sticking their heads into Kira's bowl WHILE she is eating!!! We have to lock them away until she finishes her meal. I have so many stories about my hedonistic cats, but I'll try to fit them into the dog stories as best I can, because, after all, this is intended to be a dog blog, not a cat blog. But, I have to warn you, I really cannot resist telling stories about the cats. They are very funny cats. Especially Daily. Ok, that comes later on. Back to Kira.

She really is SUCH a princess. When she met our neighbor's 120 pound Malamute for the first time, and he came around to do the usual tail sniffing thing, she just sat her little boney butt down on the ground. "No, no, we're not having any of that," was her attitude.

This evening, when I got home from work and we went out for a good walk, we went down to the little wooded park at the end of the street and met several neighbors and their dogs and kids. All the dogs were off leash, playing with balls and frisbees and running around like children. As Kira and I came up, everyone quickly pulled their dogs in. Let me put it the way H puts it: if a 150-pound Golden Retriever comes bounding up off leash, people say "Awww, isn't it cute?" but when a 60-pound German Shepherd comes into the crowd ON leash, some people say "Oh my God an attack dog."

Now I know that GSDs are often used for guarding (there is the Schutzhund aspect, of course, with the attack training, which I would never have for a family dog), and there is the association of the police dog. Those things might cause people to be frightened. But people who are most afraid of GSDs are people who don't know dogs at all, and my personal feeling is that GSDs look so much like wolves that those people's race memory and caveman instinct takes over, and that's where the automatic fear comes from. That's what I believe, anyway, that it is a fear born of instinct even more than association with police dogs and guard dogs.

OK, so I digress. Back to the story of tonight. As Kira and I came up to the group of doggy people with their dogs suddenly kept close, both of us were smiling (yes, Kira has a lovely smile). One of the ladies starts to realize that there is no aggression in Kira, and she asks: "Is she friendly?" "She's amazingly friendly," I responded, and everyone came over to Ooooo and Aaaaa over her. "Oh, she's so pretty." "She's so sweet." "She's so soft." "She's so good." Before you know it, all the dogs are off leash again, and Kira is right out there with everyone. She had so much fun! She ran all over the place, trying to herd a short black dog (no one knows what it is!), but the little dog could turn tighter than she could, and she got lots of exercise trying the round everyone up into a circle. You know the German Shepherd thing: first I put everyone in a circle and then I guard the perimeter. But she certainly had fun trying! Then Cocoa was playing with her frisbee and Kira interfered and got taught a good lesson for it. Lots of snarling and snapping, and Kira was mortified! As I said, she is a princess and apparently is not used to such treatment. After all, she was the boss at her old house. Karen's other two dogs (German Shepherd mixes, both rescue dogs) did as Kira instructed. She could rile them up with a bark. But this new world is totally different for her. I don't think she has ever had so much exercise! I keep hoping it makes her hungry.

She did something very interesting at the beginning of the walk. I started to go into the park at the extreme end of the path, a very secluded area. It was quite light, and I was very comfortable going that way. But as I started down the path, Kira began to bump her head against my thigh. When I didn't stop, she moved in front of me and stopped my progress, the way seeing eye dogs do. I thought it was an odd behavior, but I went around her and kept going. Then she started leaping up onto her hind legs in front of me and hitting me with her shoulder. This time, I stopped and thought "Well, I'm not going to fight this." Obviously she didn't want to go that way. So I turned around and went into the park at a different location, and that's where all the people were. I don't know why she didn't want to go that other way, but I was not going to question her. I think there is at least one homeless person living in a dense area of the park...not that homeless people are per se dangerous. Last year, Ziggy flushed a guy out and actually growled at him (we know of only two times that Ziggy growled at a person and that was one of the times). There have been a couple of attacks on women in this park, but they were quite a few years ago and in the dark. Did Kira know something? Or did she just not like going that way because of the sound of traffic on the other side of the wall? Of course, I'll never know what it was, because I didn't go against her instincts. What really surprised me is that H said she did the same basic thing to him last night in the same area. She does not like that entrance for some reason. We won't go that way. I think I'll trust her.

Ziggy and the truck god

2008-03-30T14:55:00.003-04:00

I don't want to compare Kira and Ziggy in a way that says one is or was better than the other, but I compare them to note that they are very different. I love the differences. One of the most noticeable differences is the way they are (were, in Ziggy's case) about the truck. Ziggy loved the truck. He could not get enough of it. Kira likes riding in the truck, too, but it's just a ride for her, just a means of getting someplace new. For Ziggy, it was all about the truck. It must be a guy thing. Even after a long drive, if you came home and made him get out of the truck, Zig would sit by the door waiting to get back in. He absolutely adored the truck and the truck god. Ziggy examined every single move H made, cocking his head left and right, trying to figure every thing out. When H put the key in the ignition, Ziggy watched intently. Whenever he buckled the seatbelt or rolled down a window, Ziggy watched his hand closely. And every gear change was of great interest. One day I told H to keep an eye out, because Ziggy was learning how to drive the truck. Someday Zig would just take the keys and drive himself to the dog store, the doggy park, and back home again. At least I HOPE he'd drive himself home again. You know guys and their trucks...they can just go and go and go. As I mentioned before, Ziggy would have been happy to just stay in the truck all day. ..put him in it in the morning, leave him all day with the windows wide open so he could take in all the scents, and come get him at night, and he'd be happy as a clam. Of course, we'd never do that, but he would have loved it.

Kira, on the other hand, gets into the truck, happy with the knowledge that we are GOING someplace. And she is just as happy to get out when we arrive at our destination. Yesterday, before I went to Lea's for our walk, H put Kira in the truck and lowered the window a little for her while I gathered my purse and coat. H stood on the porch talking to me, and before I could get out of the house, Kira had jumped out of the window and up onto the porch. You have to understand that this is a Dodge Ram 2500 pick-em-up truck! Humongus! The bottom of the window is at my eye level! And the window was only half opened when Kira jumped out! A lesson to us: never open the windows more than about two inches for her. Yikes! Scarey!

Right now, she is downstairs whining and whining because I am up here writing on my blog and she is down there. H is working on a project that requires him to come and go from the house. Kira wants us all to be downstairs in the living room with her. When we are there, she is so relaxed and happy on her comfy bed. It makes it very hard to write in my blog because the computer is upstairs. But I don't want her upstairs. Not yet...she is not quite trustworthy yet. She still doesn't get it about pooping on the grass. In her other home, she used the paved patio in the postage stamp back yard. We have had three accidents on our tile floor in the family room. It could have been worse: she could have used the new Persian rug. And really, she is a little bit of a brat. She really wants to be in her crate at night (it's her security blanket), but when she hears us upstairs, she starts her "woof woof wooooooooo" wolf howl. It's very soft, and actually rather sweet, if that makes any sense. You can't get mad at her. But I'd like to have a little more control over that. I'd like to be able to say "Quiet" or "Settle" or some other cue and have her stop making the noise. I know it can be done, but I don't know how to do it. I'm sure we are doing things wrong right and left. And still, she is a wonderful dog. We are very patient with her, and we believe everything will work out in time.

Anyway, my blog entries may be hit or miss for a while, until she understands that, even though we are not all together all the time, we are still a pack. She still has us. Forever.

More bonding

2008-03-29T22:14:00.003-04:00

I took the truck today. Kira and I went to Lea's house, where we all went walking around the neighborhood to get the two dogs used to each other. It seems to me that German Shepherds do very well with other German Shepherds. So Kira and Cherokee did great from the start. Of course, I think Kira gets along with anyone who is willing to get along with her. She's very easy going. Especially compared to Ziggy, who wanted to be top dog everywhere, even among other GSDs.

So after our walk, and a cup of coffee at Lea's house, we all got into the truck and went to Old Town to walk around. The girls did great in the back seat of the truck. We walked from one end of Alexandria to the other, and back again, stopping at the doggy store. Kira was not the lest interested in treats, but Cherokee got a nice share. We met other dogs and people and heard many loud sounds, from one large dog lunging at the fence of a garden we walked past (and all FOUR of us jumped in surprise) to a loud and continuous horn from the Cherry Blossom paddle boat as it left the wharf (only Lea jumped with that one). We had a great two hours of walking.

I dropped Lea and Cherokee off at their house and came home with the truck, when a couple of friends stopped by to see Kira. I want her to get used to people coming to the door. Of course, she barked quite a bit, and didn't really stop when I said it was ok. Eventually she stopped, of course. And it was a lot sooner than Ziggy would have stopped, so that is good. They while they visited and we shared photos and tea, Kira rested quietly on her bed in the same room with us, quite content.

But the day was not finished. At 5:30, we went to see Nancy and Steve and their new dog. Like Ziggy's loss did to us, they really could not stand the "beagle shaped hole" (to use EO's phrase) in their hearts, and they filled it with a lovely little dog today. Um, a lovely as yet unnamed dog. Maybe Mina, maybe Dolly. We don't know yet. They'll come up with something.

Kira was a little hyper for a while, until we cleverly thought to bring in her bed from the truck, and she got comfy on it and stayed there until we were ready to leave. I really think it hurts her boney body to lay on the hardwood floors. Also, at Karen's, she was used to staying on the furniture. We'll have to remember the portable bed trick in the future.

So, it has been a week since we brought her home. I see a great future ahead for us.

None Shall Pass

2008-03-28T23:00:00.002-04:00

I'm like the black knight in Monty Python's Holy Grail...if you come to my office, you can't leave without looking at photos of Kira.

She is a different dog, changing on a daily basis. She comes when you call her. She sits, she drops down. She gives you her paw. The last two days, I have taken her out into the back yard without the leash. Nervy of me, eh? But she is so very responsive to me when I call her. She started to go to the truck and I called her back. She came instantly. She responds to praise and love in a very rewarding manner. I'm working on her barking. She has started to bark when someone comes up to the house. Well, of course, she barks at the postman, because she does such a good job: he comes up onto the porch, she barks, and he leaves; every single time. Job well done! But I'm working on getting her to hush after I say it's ok. I don't mind one or two barks, but I'd like her to stop when I say "quiet" or "hush"... I haven't decided which one. But, no matter, both seem to be working. This girl is so smart. I'm going to have to come up with some mentally stimulating games for her really soon! She deserves it.

In the evening, after dinner, we have been sitting in the living room, quietly talking or reading, or even watching some television. She seems to really love that. On Tuesday, I suggested bringing her cushy bed into the living room so she won't have to put her boney body (we're trying to put more weight on her) on the hardwood floor and she took to it immediately, and has now stopped pacing. I don't think she has ever had so much quiet time. She has that German Shepherd herding instinct, and she's very happy when all of us are together in the same room, cats included. She wags her tail when she sees us. She doesn't come bounding up to us the way Ziggy would, but hey it's only been less than a week. We are getting the German Shepherd smile now...even other people have mentioned it. And one of my very favorite things is the "puppy ears." That's when she puts her ears down against her neck like a puppy and then drops her head down low, smiling. I know that is a submissive posture, but she is very happy when she does it. She seems very happy to be in a position of submission. Which is what my favorite Caesar Millan says: they don't want to have to be pack leader...they want someone else to take the job.

Tonight, both of the cats got onto her big soft bed and she whined about it. I told her it was her bed and she could chase them off of it. Not really expecting her to understand me, of course. But darned if she didn't just go over and lay down on the bed between them. Wolfie was sort of pushed off when she put her long body down, but Daily just took it in stride and shifted around a little the way he used to do with Ziggy. I really believed Daily would be sleeping with that dog sooner or later, but I didn't expect it SO soon. H took a couple of photos. When I get a chance, I'll post one.

Our happy family.

Kira, Smiling

2008-03-25T13:42:00.001-04:00

The Stinkiest Kid Around

2008-03-25T12:43:00.006-04:00

We got Ziggy in August 2001. Shortly thereafter, the 9/11 attacks rocked us to the core. I remember driving past the Pentagon on my way to work on that beautiful September morning and thinking of how much I enjoy my drive in to work...with my music, my Starbuck's coffee, a car I like to drive, and the beautiful GW Memorial Parkway. I was running a little late that day, after helping my son find some lost school work and dropping him off at school. Mine is not a long drive...probably 20-25 minutes from front door to office garage, not bad at all.

As I pulled into the parking garage in my building in DC, the guard asked me if I had heard about the "two cargo planes that crashed in New York." He didn't have any more information, and I had been listening to CDs instead of the radio, so I didn't know what he was talking about. So I parked and went into my office. When I turned on my computer to the home page, which was the New York Times, there was a photo of the first plane crashing into the first World Trade building. It was no cargo plane. Stunned, I called my husband, who told me all he knew and said he was trying to get more information. Suddenly, he said "Oh, my God, they've hit the Pentagon. We're at war." Overwhelmed with worry about my son, I said "I'm out of here! I'm going to get Thomas." Back then, I called my son "Thomas," before he became EO the elusive offspring, living his elusive life at university.

I shut off the computer and hurried to my car and got almost to the river before traffic stopped me. I was listening to the radio and watching all the people standing around outside with their cellphones to their ears and their faces to the beautiful skies, looking for the next plane. There were rumors that there were bombs at the State Department, and the World Bank, and that another plane was on its way. Driving along the Potomac, I could see not just black smoke, but huge orange flames over the Pentagon, well above the trees. It was a shocking experience. By the time I got to Teddy Roosevelt Bridge, it was full of cars, all leaving DC, and people were streaming across it on foot (the subways had been shut down). I did what so many other drivers were doing. I stopped and picked up as many people as I could take in my car and I drove them home. By the time I had done that, I realized that my son was probably safer at his school than anywhere. Later I found out that most of the students had gone to the library to watch the news and that most parents also left their kids at the school. Who would target a school, right? (Of course, we believed this before the DC sniper taught us otherwise.)

The world was eerily quiet when I got home after noon after delivering the people I had picked up. Ziggy was so happy to see me that early, but he sensed something was not quite right. The air traffic that usually goes down the Potomac and over my house was gone. The airports had been shut down. Every now and then a fighter jet flew overhead. Traffic noises were nil. The day was gorgeous. I had windows and doors open. I picked up my son and we sat with Ziggy on our wraparound porch and talked to neighbors making their way home. It would have been a perfect day but for the horror of the morning.

But this is not supposed to be about 9/11. It's supposed to be about Ziggy; it IS a dog blog, after all. And you are probably wondering why the title of this post is "The Stinkiest Kid Around." So, let me explain.

Shortly after 9/11, we started a major remodeling project on our hundred-year old house. We replaced trim on the outside and repainted all the German siding. We rebuilt the porch. And we turned the attic into a loft for our elusive offspring. Complete with full bath, two dormers, two roof windows, nice carpeting, and lots of room for stereo equipment, books, friends, you name it! Way more than any kid really deserves. But what the heck. Back then, he wasn't so elusive. When the contractors showed up, the not very aptly named Wolfie cat would slink upstairs and crawl under the sheets/blanket/bedspread on our bed and stay there from 7:00 a.m. until they left at 4:00 or 5:00. We always make the bed every morning, so it was very funny to see a lump in the middle of the bed, like some sort of deformity in the mattress. It didn't matter how warm it got, Wolfie stayed under the covers. Even in the winter, he stayed under the DOWN comforter. It's a good thing cats are really desert animals. Anyway, back to the dog part of this story. Ziggy, on the other hand, liked to greet the contractors when they came, and then he stayed downstairs in the back of the house. They all liked that dog. In fact, I think one of the guys would have taken him if he could have! But Ziggy was clearly our dog. And they were good to him.

I think I already mentioned that we don't have a fenced back yard. It was never a problem. Ziggy always came back when called, and if he started to go into a neighbor's back yard, I'd say "our yard, please," and he'd come back to me. But he was never let outside without one of us being close by.

One day, Ziggy got out. We think that when the new stove was delivered, one of the delivery guys let him out. Actually, we think someone kicked Ziggy or something because he didn't stick around the house. My son, who was in the 9th grade at the time, was at his high school about a mile away and, while changing classes with a friend, looked out the school window. "Hey!" says the friend, "doesn't that dog look a lot like Ziggy?" One look, and the elusive offspring says "It IS Ziggy!" And he went outside, called Zig, and walked him home and put him in the house. Then he called to tell me what had happened. I got weak at the knees at the thought of our car-stupid Ziggy crossing all those busy streets to get to my son's school. But then I had a different thought. Ziggy had never been to that school before. My son either rode his bike or walked to school when I didn't drive him. My thought came out as words: "Wow, you must be the stinkiest kid around!" Can't you just hear the "M-o-m" that brought on! But how else would Ziggy have found the school?

Anyway, we think someone kicked Ziggy because from that day on, he barked at everyone who came to the house, friend and foe alike. Well, actually, I don't think a foe ever came to the house. Or, if they did, I never knew about it, because they didn't stick around! What does a foe look like anyway?

Night and Day

2008-03-24T20:21:00.002-04:00

What an incredible difference! Saturday night, we didn't put her in her crate. We left her in closed into the family room/kitchen with the crate opened and she gave us lovely wolf howls all night. Her voice is not nearly as loud as Ziggy, so it was not annoying. It did, however, keep us from getting a good night's sleep. But that was Saturday night, and we had Sunday to recouperate. Last night, we put her in her crate, after she had another nice long walk with H. I was, of course, unbelievably tired from all the walks. It's like all that exercise simply whetted Kira's appetite for more exercise, but it beat me up! I'm not used to all that walking up and down hills, at a quick pace. This morning, I awoke with sore calves, sore shins, sore ankles and sore thighs...but my heart was anything but sore.

This morning, H got up at 5:30 to give her a long walk. He was delighted that, when he opened the crate and ignored her to feed the cats, he found her standing behind him wagging her tail at him. How gratifying is that! He lavished her with praise. Then he let Daily loose to come upstairs and snuggle with me while he walked Kira. Daily had to make sure he was still my main man. He was so cute, stretched out next to me, patting me with his little kitty paw, putting his face into my hand, holding my wrist, purring and chirping at me. Where did these great animals come from! And yes, Daily is still my "familiar." Anyway, I got up at 7:30 (sleepy me!) and Kira met me at the door, wagging her tail! I walked her for 20 minutes, and then put her back in her crate for the day. She was fine with that. She is used to longer crate time...Karen's commute was so long that Kira had to be crated from very early in the morning until quite late in the evening. I supposed she was crated at night, too. For the time being, she will have to be crated at night and while I am at work, but her time in the crate will be shorter. I am hoping to wean her from the crate in a few weeks. I don't think crating is a bad thing. But I'd like her to have the run of the kitchen and family room the way Ziggy did. As it is, I am so happy that we really do have more time to spend walking and bonding.

This evening, I got home by 5:00 (I love my 20 minute commute) and immediately took her for a walk. We stopped to greet every dog we met, whether she wanted to or not, and we met lots of people who wanted to pet her. Several people commented on how she looks like a wolf. Actually, I think she does, too. My cave wolf.

A couple of blocks away from the house, I stopped to talk to one little girl and her nanny. She was maybe 4 years old, couldn't keep her hands off Kira's head, and Kira loved it. What a lovely dog. The little girl...Rachel was her name...said "Sometime, you can bring your dog to my house for a sleepover." I melted.

While I was talking to yet another group of neighbors and dogs, H drove up in the truck and we climbed in and rode home. Kira is remarkably comfortable in the truck now, and eager to get into it, ready to migrate again. Actually, I think she is quite eager to go for a ride.

So we got home, had a glass of wine, sat in the living room with Kira and just talked to each other. Kira paced a little bit, then found a comfortable place on the dining room rug and lay down to listen to us talk. This is new for her, I think. There are no other dogs for her to rile up, and I guarantee the only rise she would get out of the cats would not be to her liking. Ziggy got lots of warning scratches in the beginning.

Then we decided to take her to the pet store again to get some canned food (Karen's routine gave her half canned food and half dry food) to see if we can get her to eat. She's a "drive by" eater. She goes into the kitchen, eats two or three kibbles, then comes back into the living room. Then she returns to the kitchen for a couple more kibbles and returns to us. This goes on and on. (Maybe she is making sure we aren't going to disappear on her?) Anyway, we thought we'd try the canned food thing. When we got home, we put half a can of food on her kibbles and she ... dare I say "wolfed"? ... it down. Maybe we'll get a good poop from her now. In the back yard, I hope, not the house!

I think Lea is right. I think she will be a different dog within the week. I'm planning to take Kira to Lea's house on Saturday, and we'll walk our German Shepherd girls together. I'd like to take her to the doggy park this week, too. And I want as many friends as possible to come over so she can learn to "discern." That's a word I have heard used many times regarding how GSDs decide who is friendly and who is not.

I am learning as much from this dog as she is learning from us.

Easter, our first full day together

2008-03-23T19:34:00.004-04:00

At the same time that we were signing the papers for Kira yesterday, my friend, Nancy, was going through the sad process of euthanizing her sweet beagle, Doobie. She and her family adopted Doobie a year and a half ago, knowing that Doobie was already probably 12, and in dire need of rescue, and probably not long for the world...the prognosis was that he might last another six months or so. The first time I saw Doobie, he looked deformed from malnutrition and probably abuse. He was so afraid that he would not come to anyone. Yet, he clearly WANTED to be loved and to meet people. Nancy and her family set about rehabilitating sweet Doobie and I watched an incredible transformation. The change was most obvious a couple of months ago when I came for a visit. As I came in the door, Doobie raced to greet me, all wiggles and happiness, with the most lovely healthy beagle body. He had many physical issues, including a problem with his renal system. Nancy took him to the vet. She fed him a special diet. She cooked rice and chicken broth for him and celebrated the way he would leap up onto his back feet and yodel for dinner. And it really did make him irresistable. My last memory of Doobie was of him in Nancy's lap, on his back with his head under her chin, ears flopped back, belly up, happy and so relaxed, waiting for his beer and the remote control. In one and a half years, Doobie went from an unwanted, abused senior dog to a beloved, happy member of a family.

We had Easter dinner with Nancy and her family. Despite her loss, she was ready to see more dogs in addition to her remaining little Valentine. So a friend brought two pugs and she asked us to bring Kira. We turned all the dogs loose in the huge fenced-in back yard and they ran and played like children. One of the pugs started grabbing sticks and racing around the yard and Kira raced after him. She may be fast and athletic, but she couldn't keep up with that pug for nuthin! They had us laughing so hard I thought my face would break. But what I loved the most was the way Kira would circle back to me periodically and brush her nose against my hand. She didn't quite want me to touch her necessarily, but she wanted reassurance. And when H called her, she came running all the way from the farthest fence (what a BEAUTIFUL lope!!!) to him...but didn't quite get to his hand. It took some coaxing. I honestly believe we will be able to go to the doggy park sometime this week, and that she will return to us when we call her.

She is slowly learning to trust us. This morning, we got up early, took her outside to see if she would do her business...she would not. We walked down to Starbucks and sat outside with her so that she would get used to people coming and going. She shook a bit, but I ignored the shaking and occasionally rubbed between her ears. I didn't want to encourage the imbalance. Sure enough, she got over the shaking, and people stopped to say how beautiful she was and to pat her. Then we walked home (up and down hills, again, sigh), and we made our breakfast. We took her into the truck (she now knows "up" means to get into the truck) to Pet Smart, where we all went into the store and got her a new tag with her name and our address on it. We took her to fill the truck with diesel. Then we went to see my friend Dorothy and her kids to introduce her to more people. We went home and she rested nicely in the back room until time to go to Nancy's. But before dinner, we picked up my niece, Kat. More people to introduce her to. Boy, is she getting socialized!

Around 5:30, we brought my niece back to the house and all had a cup of tea and relaxed for a while until time to drive Kat home. Kira is really getting to know this truck and the migration thing. When we got home, we invited her into the rest of the downstairs and she seemed to really like being with us. She lay down on the floor next to H and he petted her for quite while, even getting a sweet nibble from her. Ziggy used to do that. She learned that she is not allowed to get onto the furniture in this house (she ruled the furniture at Karen's house). We have the best cats in the world. They are totally, completely comfortable around her. I think Caesar Millan would be pleased with the calm energy that we are projecting. Of course, there is still so much to do with her, and I know I am making mistakes right and left, but I am just so happy with her. I'd like her to learn to pee and poop on command the way Ziggy used to do. But she is still just so off base.

I have noticed something interesting about her. Where you could speak firmly to Ziggy, and even raise your voice a little now and then to get his attention (because he didn't always hear you), you must be very gentle with this girl. Loud noises startle her right now. I do believe that this will not always be the case. We will see how things progress. I have not had to speak sharply to her, because she reacts very well to a noise I make to get her attention and to let her know when she is not allowed to do something. Like getting up on the furniture. She learns very fast. Here's a funny thing she does: she jumps up onto her crate to look out the windows! Her crate is at least 3 feet high. It's a little wierd to see her up there. We say "off" and she gets down. We are using that command for her to jump out of the truck, too.

There is so much to learn with her. Ziggy was completely different. First, he was unbelievably tough. He was a big, strong, protective male dog. He was completely unafraid. People, dogs, cars, cats. Except, he didn't like thunder or gunshots (from living in the country in Texas). Not that he heard gunshots where we live. But there was plenty of thunder. Ziggy responded almost instantly to commands, especially "come" and "wait." However, he often took his time sitting...I'd have to say "butt down, please." And then he would sit. Because he was so big and likely to knock you over getting to his dinner, I made him stay a respectable distance away while I prepared the bowl of food, then had him sit in front of the bowl until I released him...and, boy, did I love the way he would look up at me, waiting for the release. He was a sweetie. Sometimes, he had trouble remembering the first part, going a respectable distance away, and I'd say "excuse me." And he always woofed and went where he was supposed to be. I often said "excuse me" if he didn't do what he was told right away, and he always seemed to understand what I wanted. That's what I mean about how eerie it can be knowing that a dog understands what you mean. Well, Kira is learning quickly. Where Ziggy absolutely LOVED doggy treats as his reward, food does not seem to be an incentive for Kira at all. What seems to work for her is praise. How interesting.

I have so much to learn about her. So much to learn about myself. This becoming a dog person is quite wonderful, isn't it?

She's home, my beautiful new dog

2008-03-22T19:45:00.004-04:00

We met up with Karen at the Adoption Day at Pet Smart and signed all the papers. Then we put Kira in the truck and drove the hour plus to Potomac Overlook Park, where (as Caesar Millan suggests) we walked her for an hour up and down hills...I think I was the only exhausted one of the three of us. Kira was ready to keep walking. So we drove to our neighborhood, got her out of the truck, and walked another half hour through our own neighborhood and park.

The most wonderful thing is how she responded to the cats! Oh my gosh! We kept her outside with us in the back yard for about 20 minutes, talking to neighbors (all of whom thought she was SO pretty!) and then, in the Caesar Millan method (I hope!), we had her sit politely, then invited her into the house, and limited the introduction to one room...well, the equivalent of one room: our family room and kitchen. She sniffed the cats, they sniffed her, Daily rubbed against her (Daily never met a dog he didn't like...seriously), and pretty much ignored her. She pretty much ignored them too. She won't eat yet. She REALLY misses her mom. She's very confused. We have a very calm household compared to her last one. So far, she has been great. She still doesn't come when we call. She knows the commands, but she doesn't respond. That's ok. She'll get there. Food doesn't work as an incentive...however, like Ziggy, she loves cheese! So H and I gave her a few little nibbles. She has SUCH a sweet way of taking the cheese from your fingers. Where Ziggy would grab the cheese, and often get your fingers, then be very embarassed, Kira delicately removes the cheese. She is SUCH a lady.

Damn! I love this dog. I need to do what the cats are doing. I need to ignore her and let her get her bearings. But it is SO hard not to touch her soft fur and beautiful ears. I want to KISS her on the face. I absolutely LOVE this dog! She is So different from Ziggy that I don't feel like I am trying to replace him. She is simply a new member of the family. We just need to acclimate her to her new surroundings. I will say that she needs lots of those LONG and exhausting walks. I can see that I am going to lose weight just keeping her exercised. Isn't that great????

I am really excited about tomorrow, when we introduce her to the rest of the downstairs. I want her to be able to come into the living room and be with us. If I understand the book (Caesar's Way) correctly, we need to let her stay in her crate tonight (it's her safety blanket), and then tomorrow we can take her for another long walk in the neighborhood and then bring her back, invite her into the house again, and introduce her to another room. H wants to take her out and work with her on the obedience commands tomorrow. Just the basics. Come. Sit. Stay. Down. But I don't know what to use as an incentive. Karen says it took her two days before Kira would eat when she got her from the breeder. She also says it took a couple of days for Kira to poop. It is going to be interesting, getting this dog used to us. But I so love her already, I can't help but think all will be well. After all, the way she reacted to the cats was beyond belief. And the way she took cheese from our fingers was so gentle. She is a very good dog. We just need to understand how to deal with her.

I know Karen is missing her tonight. It's her first night without her beautiful long-legged Kira. I called her as soon as we got home and told her about Kira's reaction to the cats. And I thanked her for trusting us to give Kira a good home. And Kira is really missing Karen. Trying to figure out what is going on. I refuse to feel sorry for Kira, because I don't want that negative energy to enter into our new relationship. I want to project purely positive energy (I like that alliteration). I hope Caesar is correct that "dogs live in the now." If that is the case, then Kira will come around quickly. We just need to be patient, calm and assertive pack leaders.

I love Kira. Beautiful Kira. Smart, gentle Kira. I am SO happy tonight. Let's see how I feel tomorrow, after a night of Kira without her two big brothers and Karen...stuck with two cats and us. I hope Karen calls a friend and starts on the bottle of champagne we gave her. As for me, I am totally exhausted. I need to get to bed early tonight.

Happiness!

2008-03-22T13:35:00.002-04:00

I'm only here for a moment to report that I just got the call. Kira is ours! We are on our way to fill out the adoption papers and pick her up. First I spoke to the intake officer. Then Karen called me and we talked. She is happy and sad. I told her she could have visitation rights any time. And I'll keep her up to date.

OK, I'll say more later. But right now I must go. Yippeedoodles!

Cave Dogging (my story and I'm sticking to it!)

2008-03-22T10:24:00.004-04:00

Shortly after we got Ziggy, I figured out how wolves evolved into the domestic dogs of today. It was through a process I call "cave dogging" and it goes this way: Cave men and women instinctively knew about the dangers of predators, like bears, and big cats, and wolves, and they were extremely careful of them. That's how they had to live their lives.

But one day, things start to get really interesting for the cave man and woman. They see this one wolf lurking around; they know to stay inside the cave with the fire going and big clubs around just in case. After a while, they notice the wolf carrying off the bones they had thrown outside of the cave and they think: "Hey, that wolf just wanted our left overs. Nothing wrong with that. Kinda keeps the old homestead clean with the wolf taking away the bones. And maybe, just maybe, that wolf won't be hungry for us if he gets those mammoth bones." So they keep their little ones close by and watch the wolf closely, occasionally tossing out a bone or two, but never have any problems. And the wolf keeps the big cats and bears away. Not a bad arrangement for a bone now and then.

Time goes by and the cave man is now actually tossing meat-laden bones to the wolf. Not just garbage bones. Cave man and his woman are clever. They see that the wolf is grateful and never hunts the cave folk or their little ones. There's no NEED to hunt cave folk because Wolf is full of bone meat. (Hey, this is MY story, let me tell it MY way) Wolf starts hanging out more and waiting for a nice handout. Wolf isn't going to EAT the very source of those handouts. Remember, dogs (wolves) are SMART! Regarding cats, however, I'm sure that if I shrunk to Barbie size, my cats would think I was fair game--but this is a dog blog, so I'll focus on the wolf for now.

OK, so now we have a wolf hanging out around the cave quite often now, hoping for a nice meaty handout. One night, Cave Man notices that fine young wolf is now at the mouth of the cave. He starts to panic, but notices that that Wolf isn't doing anything. He's just curled up in a ball, very comfy and warm from the heat coming out of the cave. (remember this is MY story and I'm telling it my way)

A few nights later, Cave Man sees that Wolf has moved to a position just INSIDE of the mouth of the cave. Not threatening, just sleeping. Cave Man thinks, "hmmm, Wolf is ok there, kind of pretty, too, so I'll just keep my club, woman and kids close by and watch him." After Wolf chases a few predators away from the cave, Cave Man thinks it's a REALLY good arrangement and accepts it. Now and then, he even starts to toss some spare meat, choice cuts, to Wolf. (Oh, yeah, you might have noticed Cave Man said "ok"...this was the first human use of the term "OK" too)

A few weeks later, Cave Man sees that Wolf is even FURTHER into the cave...still a respectable distance away, but definitely IN the cave. Wolf is not threatening, still pretty, and Cave Man leaves him there, but always careful keeps his club, woman and kids at this side just in case.

One day, he wakes to find Wolf curled up by the fire, with his head on his paws, looking up at him with big brown eyes and articulating eyebrows (yes, YOU know that look). When Cave Man goes on his hunt that day, Wolf lopes along after him. Wolf even helps Cave Man bring down the game. Cave Man reaches out with a piece of the meat and Wolf actually takes it. Just the meat, not the hand. This was the first Wolf/dog to decide not to bite the hand that feeds him. Cave Man thinks this is an EXCELLENT arrangement.

After doing this for a while, one day Cave Man and his family wake up to find Wolf stretched out next to them, keeping them nice and warm with his body. And he is SO pretty and SO soft. And hey, the kids really like this Wolf. As time goes by, Wolf leaps around like a puppy, playing with the kids, fetching a stick, helping with the hunt, keeping them safe, warning them of danger with his barks. His howling, however, is a little nerve wracking, and oh, my gosh the shedding! Still, Cave Man could never give up this wonderful companion.

And then the day comes. One morning Cave Man wakes to discover that Wolf has climbed into bed with him and his woman. In fact, Wolf has snuggled BETWEEN Cave Man and his woman. And what do you think they do? They both turn and hug their Wolf, what else?

So, I figured the whole evolution process out by watching Ziggy with the taboo rug. First he would lay a respectable distance from it. Then he'd lay right next to it, barely touching it. Then one paw would be on the rug. Then two paws and his head, with those big brown eyes looking up at me and the articulating eyebrows. Who could get mad at that??? So you smile and think nothing of it. Ah, but cave dog thinks, hey if I can get my paws on this rug, what else can I do? Before you know it, he is curled up on the edge of the rug. And then at your feet. And then ON your feet ON the rug squarely in the middle of the room.

Yup, that's what I call cave dogging.