Sundry things

Another day of snow is predicted tomorrow.  Surprisingly, it started about the time the weather prognosticators said it would; between 4:00 and 8:00 p.m.  Here in Sleepy Valley, it started at 7:55 p.m.  Made it by 5 minutes!  Tomorrow they are calling for blizzard like conditions.  Oh.joy.

Extreme weather frightens me.  I can handle rain and snow when it comes in ‘normal’ amounts.  But blizzards, hurricanes, heavy downpours, etc. really scare me.  I’ve no idea why and no idea how to not have that be the case.  Perhaps it is my catastrophic thinking, which I suspect is part of the OCD thingy.  So a blizzard means the roof will/may fall in.  A heavy deluge of rain means the basement will/may get flooded.  Of course, none of these things have ever happened to me in any home I’ve owned, but there is always the chance.  I guess one could call these thoughts, ‘intrusive’ so I should battle them the same way – with dismissing them and prayer. But it is really hard.

The better part of the day was spent baking various breads:  rye, corn and honey oatmeal.  The freezer is now stocked up.  I also am working on a baby blanket for my young niece who is expecting in July.  I will probably make a sweater and matching cap too.

The Princess, aka ‘the dog,’ continues to provide many moments of laughter, especially watching her delicately place her paws in the snow.  Curiosity often gets the better of her, so she’ll step into a pile in order to sniff a patch of whatever.  But she’ll stand still and lift one paw, oh so gentile like.  But then get her in the house and in a playful mood…presto chango…she literally bounces up and down!  Her favorite thing to do is race me down the stairs from the second floor, run from the foyer into the living room leaping over the arm of the rocking chair and bouncing off the seat.  It is positively hilarious watching her try to gain purchase on the foyer rug which slips and slides under her racing feet!  Then if she hits the kitchen floor at full tilt, she’s luck if she makes the corner without taking down the kitchen chairs or crashing into the wall!  Then back to the living room with me chasing behind her, where she turns and jumps into the air trying to grab me.  We have a grand time! I really enjoy trying to get her stuffed animals away from her.  We play soccer with them in the living room; I kick it out from under her, she dives after it to rip it to shreds, wash.rinse.repeat.  Curiously (and thankfully) the stuffed toys are the only things she shreds.

We are mindful of her breeding and lack of knowledge about her background, thus do not want to encourage any negative behaviour.  It appears a towel was used to teach her to grab hold and pull, locking her jaw, and shaking her head.  So we do not play with her that way.  A couple times while playing she has inadvertently grabbed my hand or forearm in her mouth and I can feel her teeth, but she automatically relaxes.  It’s less than like a puppy nip.  It is like she knows it is not the right thing to do to the hand that feeds her.  Nonetheless, we are ever mindful of ‘what’ she is and keep discipline at the forefront of everything, as Cesar Millan says in his books.  (H/T: s-p).

On deck for tomorrow:

• sweep up/wipe down kitchen floor
• laundry
• bathrooms
• prep for a trip
• shovel/shovel/shovel

By your prayers!

Prolonged Coughing & Procrastination

Here I sit, nearly a month after writing my last entry wondering what to write about.  Many thoughts have come into my mind tagged with ‘I should blog about that’ followed quickly by ‘What I have to say is not important.’  Really, in the scheme of things and life, going on chirping about current events, railing against idiot TV evangelists or whatnot it a waste of cyberspace and energy.

Is there something more productive I could do with the blog?  I don’t know.  Many bloggers are very creative.  I especially love reading Miss Tilney at Dove and Pomegranates.  Sadly my creative juices lean more towards cleaning out and organizing not writing.  Suggestions and ponderings are welcome.

In the meantime, I am happy to say that five days on an antibiotic the size of a horse pill, cough medicine with codeine, a cough suppressant (pill form), and inhaler my cough, which has been around for 14 or so days, has begun to subside.  I no longer sound like I am hacking up a lung every time I take a breath to say a word.  Though everyone has enjoyed my forced silence!  Is it possible to pull a rib muscle or strain the diaphragm with too much coughing?  At least that is better too.  Two nights straight of good sleep has helped too.

The snow seems to have subsided so I guess I shall don my winter-wear and fire up the snow thrower/blower (which is correct?).  Procrastination.must.stop.   Glad we didn’t get the 3 feet (or whatever) our nation’s capital got.  I wonder if Pat Robertson is going to have anything to say about the inordinate amount of snow Washington, D.C. has gotten this winter as being God’s punishment/wrath/whatever on the President and his liberal Dems?  Geesh.

At the suggestion of my spiritual father, I have begun to read St. Symeon the New Theologian’s Discourses.

Yesterday marked 3 months ago Mom fell asleep in the Lord.  It is hard to believe that much time has passed already.  February 12 she would have turned 76.  Memory eternal!

Speak for yourself Pat

“It may be a blessing in disguise. … Something happened a long time ago in Haiti, and people might not want to talk about it. Haitians were originally under the heel of the French. You know, Napoleon the third, or whatever. And they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, we will serve you if you will get us free from the French. True story. And so, the devil said, okay it’s a deal. Ever since they have been cursed by one thing after the other.” –Pat Robertson, on the earthquake in Haiti that destroyed the capital and killed tens of thousands of people, Jan. 13, 2010

Star Tribune Letter to the Editor:

Dear Pat Robertson,

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll. You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract. Best, Satan

(Written by: Lily Coyle, Minneapolis)

Vet visit

Okay folks!  Someone should have given me a head’s up on the cost of one little ‘wellness visit’ at the vets!  GeezOhMAN!!! That aside, Tevi is as healthy as can be expected for a dog who was so severely neglected.

She weighed in at 43.3 pounds, stands at 18 inches to the shoulder, has clean ears, and the heart and digestive tract sound good.  Because she was just spayed at the ripe old age of 6 and 1/2 years, she is at higher risk for mammary cancer.  So belly rubs are important to keep an eye out for lumps.

Her back teeth are worn down from her gnawing on rocks or a cage or something.  Unfortunately, we can do nothing to reverse that.

The vet said we can reverse a lot with better nutrition.  She now gets a bit of olive oil in her food to help with the dry skin.  Her haunches have no fur on them and the skin is toughened from lying on concrete or hard surfaces for so long.  Hopefully that will grow back with better food.  She also gets 50 mg of Benadryl to help her stop licking her paws and elbows.  She has licked an open sore on her right front paw.  Tevi fits right in with the family!  She’s OCD too!

We’ve had her for 6 days so far and she is settling in okay.  Her face doesn’t look quite so sad.  She’s found her spot on the couch for snoozing.  We’re working on a daily routine for morning and evening food, walks, etc.

On the days when I work, when I get home she goes out, then I feed her, then we play for a good 20 minutes or so.  She is rather perky at that time and likes to chase a tennis ball around the living room with me ‘pretending’ to steal it.  Her tail is up and she bounces around like Tigger.  It’s hilarious!

She is a love bug and likes to snuggle.  She stays in her bed all night long.  We really couldn’t ask for a better dog.  It will be interesting to see her personality continue to emerge and what she will be like.

Thanks to those commentors for all the suggestions, especially Cesar Milan’s website and books.   I am planning a trip to the library to look for his books.

Congrats! It’s a girl!

After a two hour ‘home visit,’ we were approved to bring Hazel home today at 5:30 p.m.  It’s easier to have a kid!  Geesh!  We received a great deal of instruction during the home visit and then again when we picked her up.  We had to sign an agreement stating we would not sell, trade or give her away.

The car ride home was uneventful except for Hazel’s desire to be in the front seat.  She was alert to the sights and sounds but fairly calm.  She was very quick to jump out of the car when we got into the garage and then just as quick to get into the house.  I walked her through the first floor of the house to familiarize her with the rooms.  She sniffed everything.  She swilled down ALOT of water.

The shelter gave us some of her favorite toys.  She grabbed a leopard spotted squeaky bone, took it into the living room and bounced around with it from room to room!  We were so surprised!  We hadn’t seen that side of her before.

She was very attentive to the hubster’s preparation of dinner!  Her eyebrows were tweaking left and right while the nose was going up and down, hoping for a crumb to fall from the pan.  While I poured drinks, the hubster took her outside where she did her ‘duty.’  Before we sat down to eat, I took her to the living room.  Hubster put a chair across the entrance way.  I gave her a treat and there she sat, quiet as a mouse while we ate.  She even laid down!

While I cleaned up the kitchen, the hubster sat down to watch PTI and guess who jumped up next to him on the couch?!  Yup!  She curled herself into a little ball and now is snoring away like a buzz saw!

I can see where work needs to be done.  First is to teach her to not pull on the lead.  She is really, really strong and I have a hard time holding her back.  So walking to heel will be on deck for lesson #1.  Also, teaching her to ’stay.’  She’s pretty trainable so I expect her to pick things up quickly.

Day one…  )

Eeeny, meanie…I pick you!

Let me introduce you to Hazel who we hope will come to live with us soon.

We met her today at Animals in Distress, a no-kill shelter in the area. We were given a book of photos and descriptions of pooches and picked three or four dogs we were interested in.  We then spoke to one of the vet handlers and clearly explained we’ve never owned a dog before and wanted an older, especially calmer, type dog.  She said, “Let me introduce you to Hazel.”  I was quite reluctant because her breed is a cousin to the pit bull breed.

What a sweetie pie she is!  She appears to be an English Staffordshire Terrier/Boxer mix, is small of stature weighing in at under 40 pounds, is about 5 or 6 years old and is a couch potato. She’s been there since August.  As other visitors came in to the shelter welcome center (where they have an in ground hot tub used for therapy purposes for the dogs!), Hazel’s nose twitched, ears perked, and eyes glanced but she was more interested in the snuggling going on than any person or dog that happened to stroll in.  I have never encountered such a placid, friendly, well-behaved dog.  She responded to commands given, knows her name and barely twitched when I (deliberately) squeezed her paw.

We spent a good hour or more with her at the shelter and she, literally, jumped up on the couch and snuggled right under the hubster’s arm.  She responded to my whispers in her ear with a wet kiss on my nose! When it was time for our visit to end, she did not want to leave.  The handler said, “I’ve never seen Hazel react this way to any other people who have met her.”

I asked why no one else has adopted her, especially with such a sweet disposition.  The handler said, “As soon as someone sees the words ‘pit bull’ they don’t even want to meet her.  But she is nothing like any pit bull you may have ever met.”  Too true!

We put in an application to adopt Hazel.  The next step is a ‘home visitation’ by a shelter volunteer so they can see where Hazel will live.  Hopefully we’ll get approved.

Eeny Meeny Miney Moe

Today we visiting a local no-kill shelter to see if there was a dog there for us. Oh.my.goodness. I never saw so many pit bulls in all my life. All barking at the same time. Some jumping up and down like they had springs in their hind legs. Brindle coats. Blonde coats. Black coats. Females who has clearly been bred multiple times. Males who had clearly been abused and used for fighting. One little guy could hardly open his left eye. Another was ripping a towel into tiny pieces. They all made my heart race out of fear and blood boil from outrage.

We visited with a couple cute dogs. One was a hound/terrier mix. Right size. Very interested in every little smell he came across. Interesting mix of black and brown and reddish spotted fur. Pulled on the lease too much for my strength and had absolutely no interest in visiting with people. Not something we want. We would prefer a dog who is social and will do well with kids and other dogs (there are many in the neighborhood).

Another dog we looked at was a Rottweiler/Shepherd mix. He was HUGE though he did not look that way in the photo we glanced at. He had no training at all. Was not neutered. The shelter helper got growled at and when the dog tried to bite him, I said, “No thanks!”

There was a female lab mix who had been in the shelter since March. She was unenthusiastic. Not interested in smelling our hand or saying hi. She seemed to just be depressed – if a dog can be that. I felt sorry for her.

I’ve never owned a dog before so whatever we come home with needs to be something that will not be challenging (like a pit bull) or need expert training.

I doubt we’ll go back to that shelter. I am sure the helpers and employees were doing the best that they could to care for the dogs but there were so many of them, it was impossible to give each dog the time they needed.

I told the hubster that I think I want to try and find a place to adopt a dog that has a calmer atmosphere in which to visit with whatever dog draws our attention. Or perhaps find a rescue center.

Musings On Tradition

Written by guest blogger:  The Hubster

The musical Fiddler on the Roof opens with the wonderful song, Tradition.  Tevia, with support from his family, extols the many virtues of tradition.  It is the foundation of community, family, and individual life.  Those familiar with Fiddler know that the rest of the story details the gradual dismantling of tradition and the resulting heartbreak for Tevia and others.  I can relate.

Five months shy of my 50^th birthday, I am squarely in mid-life.  This is not entirely a bad thing.  I have lived long enough to have learned a few things, and in our youth-obsessed culture I am not old enough to be completely irrelevant.  I am fortunate to still be married to the same wonderful woman.  Together we have weathered the inevitable ups and downs of 25 years together.  Financial advisors tell me I’m in my peak earning years.  I never had dominating financial goals and find myself amazed at our relatively solid financial footing.  Our two children have grown to productive and responsible adults, each living on their own and independent.  I have friends on whom I can depend and I am a friend on whom others can depend.  Crisis hardly seems the correct descriptor for my mid-life.

Yet, as of late I’ve been feeling a certain kinship with Tevia whose life becomes more and more unsettled with each passing scene.  Like Tevia, tradition has given me a sense of stability, a certain comfort in the midst of an otherwise always changing world.  Like the seasons, the regular rhythms of family life provide dependability to an otherwise unpredictable life.  That dependability has been the foundation upon which my confidence to explore life’s possibilities is built.  Think of the young toddler at the beach who ventures forth from their parent’s grasp to put a toe in the water.  They proceed cautiously; frequently looking back to make sure Mom is still there, occasionally running back to Dad’s arms for reassurance before venturing again to the water’s edge.  Tradition has been like that for me.  To say it another way, the knowledge that some things are steadfast and unchanging enables me to embrace the change and growth a full and meaningful life offers.

Again, like Tevia, I have been acutely aware that my beloved and dependable traditions are disappearing.  Some have changed because of the natural, even desirable changes in family life.  Children grow up, move away, and start lives of their own.  Even if we could all be together on Christmas morning it would be inappropriate to make the “kids” dutifully sit at the top of the stairs in their pajamas so that I could take their picture before they came downstairs to presents under the tree.  Some traditions are age-specific and so far there are no grandchildren to introduce to this part of family lore.

Some changes are understandable, but not desirable.  Thanksgiving with extended family at my brother’s house simply is not the same when my still mobile father is present at the encourage of my now home-bound 91-year old mother who will not make that trip again.  We adapt and adjust, but with mixed feelings.

Other change may be inevitable, but at least for me is still unwelcome.  I recall with great fondness Christmas Eve services with the family; the shared experiences with my wife and two children reverently singing Silent Night and holding candles aloft.  Now, because of distance and membership in two different churches, I sing alone.

And then there is change that is full of grief.  Death takes a loved one and the rhythm of tradition is altered forever.  With my Mother-in-law’s death this is the first holiday season my wife and I have experienced with all of our parents living.  Not all grief comes from physical death.  For years, my friend from college-days and our families would gather over the New Years holiday, from year-to-year alternating homes.  That friend is now recently divorced and rebuilding his life.  In this case tradition is an unpleasant reminder of what is no more and our New Years gatherings are just one more casualty in this death of a different kind.

As traditions erode, Tevia and I are left looking for some solid ground on which to stand.  Neither of us is too happy about it.  I resonate with Tevia’s regular arguments with God.  “On the one hand…” says Tevia.  The traditions have served us well for generations.  They are good and right.  They are necessary.  “On the other hand…” he reasons.  It is a new day.  Things change.  We must change with them.  On the one hand… on the other hand… Tevia’s singing my song.

Maybe that is the best definition a mid-life crisis. I’m stuck between the “hands.”

On the one hand life is pretty good.  Things have been accomplished, goals reached, and the future is full of possibility.  On the other hand much of the foundation on which this life is built has shifted and no longer feels certain.  I’m not opposed to testing the waters of newness and potential but what do I run back to when the waves are larger than expected and the undertow more fierce than anticipated?

So, as I near my 50^th birthday I seek to find some new ground to stand on.  It need not be completely different ground.  I’m not interested in those stereotypical expressions of mid-life – sports car, toupee, new relationship, etc.  Those seem to be more about reclaiming some sort of lost youth than about finding something meaningful and productive for the future.

No, my new ground will be built on the values and principles that undergirded the old traditions I now long for.  Family still matters and my wife continues as the central part of my family.  We will find a new way together.  Relationships with my children will look different from those Christmas mornings when they eagerly sat at the top of the steps and playfully rolled their eyes and indulged their father with yet another picture.  But those relationships are no less important and my new ground will build new traditions with them.  Faith undergirds all things for me.  God is unchanging, but my understanding of God is ever-evolving.  I will find new ways to live out my faith with meaning.  I value being physically active and participating in much of what life has to offer.  My ability to do this can no longer be taken for granted.  My new foundation will need to be more intentional about this.  I have always, and will continue to seek to make a difference in my part of the world.  My vocational and volunteer choices are fueled by this desire and it will continue to be prominent in my emerging sense of self and my world.  There is still much to do; still much I can do.

I don’t know what the new traditions will look like.  That is the thing about traditions.  They don’t become traditions until you find yourself doing them over and over again.  I’m off to a decent start… we’ve decided to get a dog!

I think we’ll name him Tevia…

Written by guest blogger:  The Hubster

“The weather outside is frightful…

…and the fire inside, delightful.”  Methinks the quote is wrong, but you get the general sense of things.

The blizzard of the year has finally arrived, 14 hours late, but it has arrived nonetheless.  Prognosticators say 6 to 8 inches.  Those one hour south of us have 10 inches.  Delaware has declared a state of emergency and Virginia is blanketed with 18 inches or more.  Fun!  More is prognosticated for Christmas Day.  Yipee!  I just hope church isn’t cancelled.  I hate when that happens.

Like the delightful Margaret, pet of Miss Tilney, living within a short 15 minute walk of the church would be nice.  Back in the day, I did so and we walked frequently.  Alas, no more.

With the frightful weather and the delightful fire, cooking was the order of the day.  Lovely smells are emanating from the general direction of the kitchen.  A batch of minestrone soup has been completed, divided into lovely small portions, and put up in the freezer for future consumption.  A batch of tomato sauce with sausages is now simmering on the stove and will receive the same treatment as the minestrone soup.

Once the dinner dishes are cleaned up, if energy and desire prevail, a large batch of Italian Pizzelles will be made.  A labor intensive and time consuming endeavor but the fruit of the labor, as well as the sound of contented sighing following the first bite, is well worth it.  I use Grandmom Rosie’s very old electric pizzelle iron whose thermostat no longer works very well.  Regulated heat is not necessarily the term I would use to describe how it cooks.  Thus the iron gets blazing hot and smokes awfully much.  A cracked window and occasional pulling out of the plug from the electric socket is required to keep the pizzelles from coming out an unsightly deep brown (iow, burnt!).

I am resisting the need to purchase a new pizzelle iron.  I prefer Grandmom Rosie’s pizzelles iron to the new fangled ones that make them in one big round waffle.  Hers make one large waffle that has scores to break the waffle into 4 small fans.

I also prefer her recipe which requires only oil…absolutely no margarine or butter.  And anise seed crushed between the palms…not anise oil, for flavoring.  The recipe makes the the pizzelles thin and crisp,not thick and chewy, with a slight hint of anise flavor.

The cook, is of course, entitled to taste test one…hmmm…perhaps two with frozen yogurt on top.

Have started reading Delaney’s book Shannon.  It is excellent.  I shall post about it after I get a little further into it.

New Book Delivered!

“Shannon” by Frank Delaney, author of “Ireland.”

I LOVED that book. I’m hoping this one is as good. I’ll keep you posted.