“Yes, I missed you too. But I’ve been busy.”

Busy? Doing what?

“Believing.”

Oh, come on! You know better than that.

“True, but hope springs eternal and all that jazz.”

What did your mother tell you?

“Love many, trust few and always paddle your own canoe. But I don’t think that was her original work,  you know.”

Doesn’t matter – it was still important to learn. You’ve obviously remembered it. Now, tell me why you actually cannot seem to make it part of you.

“Well, Blog, it goes like this. I found what I believed to be commonality with someone – someones – and ultimately found out that while there is commonality, there is also perhaps too great a difference for me to be safe in that setting.”

Tell me what you mean. You’re being a bit vague and general.

“I cannot. You know me well, Blog, and you know that my world is based on confidentiality. Even though I may feel betrayed by someone or something or – I still maintain. It is essential to who I am and what I am that I never betray others or a confidence. You know that.”

I do, but I sense this is troubling you somehow.

“It is, Blog, it is. It amazes me sometimes, the amount of trust placed in me, and how naive that must make me appear – so that the very people who are trusting me and my integrity feel like it is okay to wipe their muddy boots on any part of my person they can reach.”

Again, you’re vague. Give me an example.

“Okay. Let’s take an example from my work world. Often, I need to pay certain costs and expenses for attorneys I contract to, right? The fastest, most secure way to accomplish these things is if I use their plastic. They give me their numbers – ALL the numbers – and I make the necessary charges. And safeguard their numbers almost more carefully than I do my own.

“And then they can stiff me on a bill for my time and services, or make me wait an interminable amount of time, or short pay me and tell me about their trip here, their new purchase there, or whatever. And still I’m sitting on those credit card numbers while my bills are going unpaid, both payables and receivables.

“They trust, Blog, that I would never reach the point of simply transferring the applicable amount from their plastic to my account.”

Well, I do see your quandary. You are trust-worthy – to a fault sometimes. But I sense that this is bothering you on a deeper scale than the silly of your contract attorneys. What is it really?

“Well, we can take this further into my personal life, but I’m not going to be more specific, because I cannot. But, it happens to me there too, with a different currency: my time and caring. I invest that in people, who I believe are making a balancing investment in me or the relationship. I give my confidences, and receive them. Like I give my time, skill and experience, and expect to be paid for it to the attorneys. Do you see?

“I’m certain that during the course of the relationship, intentions are good all around – that there is a mutual belief in the mutuality of the investment. But there comes a moment where that changes, and oddly enough, I’m not the one who ever walks away. I don’t jump to conclusions, make assumptions or judgments; I always know that there are things I don’t know that contribute to any given moment or action or words or feelings. Maybe it is from a life spent seeking all the evidence – good and bad – to prepare cases for trial. I don’t see in black and white, and I know that I’m never hearing the whole story – ever.

“I don’t seem to be able to find people who have the same systemic knowledge and understanding that it takes a LONG time talking about the same topic in a person’s life to get ALL the facts and the whole story in sequence. You have to investigate, repeat, investigate, discuss, investigate, repeat – over and over – because no one ever tells the whole story, no matter how many words they use. People take a long time to admit they could have been wrong, or could have acted in a way that was less than appropriate for the circumstances. In fact, they will often edit the story to paint themselves in the best possible light, no matter what the consequence. They also spend a lot of time justifying things – and most of that turns out to be so much window-dressing and unnecessary. But it seems to be universal.

“I know I do it too; there are lots of things going on in my life – and I keep them in boxes. Sometimes the boxes have items in them with similar characteristics – some stupid family thing will happen at or near the same time a friend or work thing does – and my response to each of them is so similar that if I haven’t shared ALL the circumstances with EVERYbody I’m dealing with or talking to, they can be confused or take things personally that have no direct bearing on them or anything they are involved in. This is frustrating.

“Then I discover I’m not involved in a co-equal investment scheme after all. I always seem to choose folks who need me more than I need them and give them what they need. Where it gets bad is when I have a need. At that moment, I become – meaningless. Of course, they still trust that I won’t betray their confidence. But I can generally tell mine isn’t being respected and is being bantered about; that’s pretty unsettling.”

You do have a problem, my dear Blogger. What do you plan to do about this?

“That’s just it, Blog. I don’t have a plan. I have never had a plan that fixes this; it’s a life-long problem. Every alternative I contemplate involves a fundamental, and totally unacceptable, change in my core personality. I’m not capable of making that fundamental, core, change. To do so would be to reduce my level of integrity to the commonality I experience. I cannot do that.”

So? Where do you go from here?

“I think I go back to accepting that I am what I am, based in my fundamental belief in the necessity of being trust-worthy – that I remain a person who would not betray a trust. I can’t change that.

“It is kind of too bad, really, too. Because I’ve been trusted with confidences, and schemes and intentions – things I’ve actually seen played out – I could betray those, and cause other people to feel what I am feeling, but worse in some ways. IF I were mean-spirited, or a vengeful person, I could just let it all out – trickle the confidences in the ‘right’ ears, you know? and watch the fall-out.”

That’s SO not like you, Blogger – what’s making you think that way? I’ve never even heard you consider that in your deepest, most hidden then deleted, drafts.

“Maybe this time, the hurt goes deeper than usual, Blog. I’m not sure why though, because I’ve been expecting this moment for months. I’ve seen the signs, so to speak.

“Coffee, dogs, yarn – these are the things that never let me down, and don’t expect me to not betray them when they’ve betrayed me on some level.  That is all.”

In any group of people, you will find conversations happening – about common interests, uncommon interests, people mutually known, people known to some but not all, and sometimes, a person known to only one of the participants. Frequently, people will share an overall opinion of the subject matter; at other times they will disagree. There will be as many points of view as there are participants in the conversation.

These things have a shape, a form, a pattern they follow: Introduce a topic – usually in the form of a question. Someone responds, others join in, each shares their views on the subject matter, there may be disagreement, there may be agreement, and the subject changes.

What happens to take THIS conversational model and turn it into ‘gossip’?  Well let me tell ya. A member of the group of people sees a way to advance themselves with another group of people, or a way to hurt someone. They repeat, typically out of context and with malicious intent, words that WERE conversation, but now because of the intent of the REPEATER, are gossip.

Do you know who gets hurt? Really? The people who had the original CONVERSATION with no malicious intent. How can you tell there was NO MALICIOUS INTENT?  Well, gosh, they didn’t intend for any of their conversation to be conveyed to the subject of the conversation, they ENDED the conversation and moved on.  BUT, they are now labeled as ‘gossips’. You know what? The label is affixed to the WRONG people. The person who SHARED those words is the gossip.

Imagine this:  You and several of your friends are talking about a party to which some of you were invited, and some were not. Why some were not is not the issue – people have mutual friends who are not friends with other people. I’m related to some people my sister is not, okay? The course of the party is discussed, shared, some people query serving roast beast for dinner, when chicken would have been less expensive and more traditional for the event. The subject changes to favorite recipes for roast beef and roast chicken.

One of the participants, for reasons known ONLY TO THEMSELVES, takes the conversation back to the person giving the party with a “They were talking about you and think you’re a bad host because you served roast beef ” – obviously forgetting to mention their own participation (yes, listening is NOT a spectator sport) and with the intent to cause trouble between the host and members of the conversation group.

Do you see the problem here?  NOW, people who were simply sharing information about things they did and what happened and moving on are labelled, branded, ostracized, evil, hurtful, hateful … and they simply had a conversation. There was no intent of harm – even if the conversation became heated over one or two thinking there should have been a vegan main course offered – INTENT people.  Intent is the key.

WHAT ABOUT THE INTENT OF THE PERSON WHO SHARED, OUT OF CONTEXT, AN INNOCENT CONVERSATION with the intent to do harm. This, my friends is THE time to shoot the messenger.

How many of you have been involved in a tussle with someone and gone to other friends to be angry and hurt, and received sympathy, empathy, and shared outrage? As in:  OMG, I cannot believe how frustrating it can be talking to XXXX. I know XXXX’s heart is in the right place but why can’t XXXX see what is happening?

Other friends may have the same opinion of your mutual friend on this particular point. They join in and share their frustration. Perhaps, they arrive at a method of coping and letting the friend be the way the friend is, or find a way of presenting their argument OR some people may not have the experience and step in to defend and defuse the person you are frustrated by. The POINT is you are conversing.

Then, someone shares your rant and rave and release of frustration with your mutual friend. WHO GETS HURT? and by whom, really?

So, for all the sanctimonious out there among you, my readers – get this through your heads:  YOU and I have talked about mutual friends and shared joys, sorrows, frustrations, giggles and whatnot. YOU have said things to me about my friends that are your right to say, but if they EVER got back to the friend you were talking about? That person would be justifiably HURT and ANGRY. YOU trust me not to repeat your words, but to let you express yourself in a conversation, right? As I have trusted you. I will not betray your right to say whatever you want, I just won’t spread it around to let it do something other than what you intended. You intended to say your piece, express your opinion, and do that in a place where you believe it is safe to do so – my friendship.

Betray that! go ahead, be my guest. I have not done so, YOU have. Which of us is the jerk? Which of us is the gossip?

Think about it. I have, over coffee, with my dogs, and being kept from my yarnie pursuits by trying to figure out how to respond to the betrayal of trust.

That is all … for now.

This is about living … and a song that I keep coming back to, over and over, lately is this:

It’s the message in the song, not the artist – though I have nothing against Tim McGraw, trust me. It is the message – that it shouldn’t take facing death to live life to its fullest.

I know I certainly do not do this; I want to, I do. But I’m in a space of low spirits, enervation and just having a hard time getting ON with it, if you know what I mean. So much to do – and who cares, it will still be there tomorrow, and if I don’t do it no one will notice, care or be damaged by it, so … pfft.

There are a million and one excuses, but mostly it is apathy, I think. I need a motivator. Right now not much seems to motivate.

I think I’ll have some more coffee, while I’m waiting to be motivated.

That is all – for now.

Ten and one-half months after beginning, so now the end approaches. I should be dancing on table tops. What I’m really doing is trying not to cry.

Why cry, you ask. Well, because it has been a long, emotionally draining nearly a year … and I’m exhausted by it all. The first half of the journey saw me out in public with plates in place TWO DAYS after having all my teeth removed. And I never stopped smiling. It was empowering. The last six months? not so much. I’ve worn/used the plates for probably 36 total hours since January. I’ve kind of been trapped in my house by not being able to wear them and that isn’t good. Eating has been an adventure.

The surgeon and dentist have been amazing at helping me by making short-term use adaptations to the plates, to permit me to go do public function things – appear in court for trials, stuff like that. But only for a few hours at a time. Heck, the grandson thinks I look weird with the plates in now, he’s so used to seeing me without them.

None of this is to say I’m not oh-so-forever-grateful for this process. But, like many good things, there has been a price to pay.

In the last few months, I’ve been laid off from my job, but unable to go out and get another because of the denture journey. VERY hard to apply for a job with the dentures in, and say ‘oh, by the way, I’ll be undergoing another series of appointments with the oral surgeon over the next 3 months and will need time off for that and recovery time, okay?’ when you’re interviewing. Better, really, to just wait. So money’s been a real problem.

Now, I see the future coming at me, and if it is going to punch me dead in the face, I hope it lets me take the dentures out first. I don’t want to have to go through this again for a while.

When I started on this journey, I thought it would be over by the end of March. The change to the path in January – getting the locators in the bottom plate – extended the terminal point. I knew back in September when it began that April was a critical time for me – when the job would likely melt into nothingness and I also anticipated an upward swing in the legal job market at that time. I was right about that – jobs DID open up that I was qualified for and could have gotten. That market has been gradually slowing down again.

Now? I’ve been working, actually, throughout the period from lay off to now, but doing contract work, not an ‘employee’s’ job. Contract work can be exciting, and this has been, but it carries with it uncertainty – there is no guarantee about the day you’ll be paid, as there is when you’re employed and your pay check is due to be deposited on the last business day of the month, for example. Uncertainty continues … and I’m getting a bit old for this, you know?

So, all in all, good news that it is over, but badness in that the timing is stinky. One thing IS certain though: The journey will have been worth it, but I will be glad when it is over.

My coffee has brewed, there is work to be done, and yarn awaits me on the other side of that drafted complaint. It is Friday, the end of the week. And I will be here, in full grin, next Friday!

With Coffee, dogs and yarn!  That is all!

Lately, I’ve been seeing status posts and comments on Facebook that make me sad – for the people posting them. It is, therefore, time once again to post the epiphany and share it.

My epiphany came over time; or perhaps I just didn’t recognize it for what it was each time I met it. Maybe I was too busy wallowing in yesterday to see it and understand it.

Here it is, in all its simplicity:

NOW, this very moment, is THE ONLY moment we have.

It is ALL that matters, because it is all there is.

I first remember recognizing this startling discovery as an important bit of information on the day I grew up. I grew up by realizing that, as much as I was disappointed by my relationship with my mother, she wasn’t a bad mother: she was a HUMAN BEING who did the best she could with what she was dealt and her understanding at each and every moment of her life. I forgave myself for disappointing her. She didn’t need my forgiveness: she never asked for it, and it would have been the height of arrogance to forgive her for being human. I accepted myself for being human, too.

But that was not the moment of epiphany.

I also recognized this information on the day I realized my Dad wasn’t to blame for my ‘rotten’ childhood. The man had his problems, and I was affected by them. But he was just a person, human, flawed, with the capacity to love and the need to be loved. His Alzheimer’s stole the essence of him – his intellect. Whatever karma he was kicking around, he met it alone. That was humbling.

But that too was not the moment of epiphany.

I recognized this information during a period of being a failure as a parent in the eyes of my child. I don’t blame her for going through that period of viewing me as a failure, nor the fights and silences. I am kind of happy it happened in a way. It triggered growth and maturity for her. And it made me look with honest eyes at myself.

THAT was the moment of epiphany.

All those things make me who I am. I have learned every day whether I wanted to or not; I have become from all of the experiences of my past. I bring them with me every time I climb out of my bed in the morning. I take all the new with me to bed each night. Sometimes, I don’t sleep well as I process that day’s additions to my essential being. Other times, I sleep as though cradled in safety and warmth. It’s an iffy thing, this being human.

ALL I have is here and now. THIS moment, this day. All those things in my past are gone. I cannot change them. They can no longer change me. I did what I did. The consequence is right here, in this moment. No amount of talking about yesterday is going to make anything that happened go away. No dwelling on it is going to change a single thing I did. And, if I’m going to be really honest here, any attempt at explaining anything I did is only going to sound like I’m trying to justify or excuse myself. And there is NO ONE besides me that I have to justify or excuse myself to, really.

My parents, both loved and dead now, only contributed to who I am and what I remember about my childhood is colored, not by FACT or TRUTH, but by my own selfish perceptions and interpretations. Memory is always a little iffy as a resource for indignation and self-righteousness.

My siblings contributed to who I am and what I remember about my childhood. Frankly, there were a lot of us, so there are a lot of perceptions and interpretations of the exact same events. Fact? Truth? um, no.

My acquaintances? Friends? Ex-husbands? Children? Grandchildren? Co-workers? Associates? Um … they contribute to my experience, but are they responsible? pffft are they to ‘blame’? pffft, again, I say.

All observation is flawed as a method of recording events; as the observer cannot help but color their observation by interpreting through their own experience. Memory shares this flaw.

I cannot control the future. It is constantly moving, in transition, effected by the wings of a butterfly. I can prepare for it. It’s out of my hands though. Worry, blame, judgment, justification, rationalization, anxiety, stress — what good purpose do these serve?

What does this leave me?  Why, funny you should ask! It leaves me NOW, this moment in time … when I have a choice to be present in it and live it to its fullest. There is nothing else. Just now …

The sun is out right now; that is good. The dogs are sleeping; that is quiet. The bills are paid (for now); that is also good. People are dying – one now at a time, and this is also good, because they are LIVING THEIR MOMENTS, and we are all dying … one now at a time. That is the path we are all on. To fear it? to attempt to control it? to suffer anxiety about it? to dwell on the past and miss THIS moment? no.

With coffee, dogs and yarn! Life is good – in the now.

That is all!

I am especially not fond of people who adopt shelter dogs as gifts for young children, and then because they had no clue what they were doing, require the young child to GIVE UP THE DOG.

This teaches way too many bad lessons: 1) grown-ups cannot be trusted; 2) animals are disposable; 3) grown-ups cannot be trusted; 4) animals are disposable and 5) rather than behave responsibly and give the dog the time and care it needs, you get rid of it.

So, my granddaughter was given a shelter dog about 6 weeks ago by her quasi-grandmother – Mrs. Know-it-All. (The relationships make a soap opera look lame; just go with it here.) They, on the spur of the moment, went to the animal shelter and adopted a 14 month old high-energy male Shepherd-ish mix – Meet Blaze. Mind you, there is a nippy yippy chihuahua already in residence. They bring the dog home, and my granddaughter immediately leaves the dog home there and goes to dad’s for visitation.

Bonding commences with the quasi-grandfather, Mr. Know-it-All, who proceeds to take a shelter dog and play slap face with it; thinking it is funny when the large teeth of the dog are learning that human flesh is a toy. Oh, and there is a chihuahua in residence that will fit in Blaze’s mouth quite easily. Mom and step-dad try, I guess, but Mr. Know-it-All isn’t going to listen to anyone. Mrs. Know-it-All is already freaking out because her chihuahua will fit in the mouth of the dog SHE adopted.

A week passes and Blaze is getting a million mixed signals; Blaze comes to my house for visitation with the granddaughter – who leaves immediately to spend time with her dad, leaving her dog here, with me, Abby and Chewie. Bonding happens with???? Abby and Chewie take one look at Blaze and puppy license is REVOKED NOW. Abby routinely sits on Blaze’s head, pinning him to the floor. A Newf can do that to a Shepherd-ish adolescent, you know! Chewie’s Akita puts Blaze’s Shepherd into check and keeps him there. But, Blaze is able to learn, and is a nice dog, really. After some evaluation and learning about the dog so I can advise, Blaze went home.

Not a full week passes and suddenly Mrs. Know-it-All is blowing my cellphone up with text messages begging me to take the dog. Excuse me?? In the course of six texts and two phone calls, there are 12 different reasons why she cannot keep Blaze at her house. Um – you are an adult who made a decision and now you’re bailing on the gift without enough time passing for the dog to even find all the good places to sniff in the yard? Sorry, not my problem. Conversation ends.

I ask my son to put my dog pen back up in the back yard, ’cause I KNOW what’s coming. As much as I do not want another dog, especially a dog I did not choose, I’m going to end up with another dog. My son put up the dog pen.

Two more weeks pass, and even though I’ve said ‘no’ emphatically, and Mrs. Know-it-All has even sent my son text messages about how evil and mean I am and how much it will hurt my granddaughter if I don’t take the dog SHE adopted for her as a gift, etc., etc. – Mrs. Know-it-All starts the text messages again.  Begging me to take Blaze again. There are new and different reasons this time. But the bottom line is this: no one there understands that SHELTER DOGS ARE BROKEN, and if you adopt a Shelter dog who is only 14 months old, you are adopting a BROKEN ADOLESCENT dog, and if you adopt a broken 14 month old adolescent Shepherd-ish dog? It is going to be a high-energy dog that needs LOTS of action and training and time to learn the rules. That was Monday.

Blaze moved in on Saturday.  Chewie’s duck was disemboweled immediately. That duck has lived through a Golden/Akita playing tug games for four years; this doesn’t bode well.

Yes, that is the word sucker on my forehead. Really. I accept it; it is who I am. But I am angry – yes, angry – that adults treat kids and animals this way.

There is humor in this situation: I am now the owner of the ABC dogs – Abby, Blaze and Chewie. This can be fun. They can scramble and become BAC – blood alcohol content can rise from the consumption of potables to cope. And if your BAC gets too high, you should call a CAB to bring you home to the ABC dogs safely. If I acquire two more dogs, say Osiris and Nefertiti, I have BACON. Bacon is good, yes?

I’ve never known a dog like Blaze, that’s for sure. My yarn is at risk and in fact, he’s already destroyed yarn that doesn’t belong to me. Fortunately, there is some spare to replace what he destroyed. Not satisfied with that, he got my precious in-progress shawl. Losing custody of that before he could damage it, he went into my bedroom and took a completed shawl off my dresser and drug it. Fortunately for him, it is not damaged.

Blaze will be given the time to find the good places to sniff. He’s just found the dog cave in my office and is snoozing there. Abby let him have it; she’s under the kitchen table. Chewie is in Zulu’s old spot in front of my lateral file cabinet. All is quiet – for now. Blaze spent the nights free Saturday and Sunday – before he found my yarn and my closet (he pulled a shoe, also, I’ve just discovered) and my hand knit shawls. His crate is now set up and he will be spending time either in the crate, in the pen, in the yard or behind the gate in the kitchen – unless he is under my wide-awake eye, until he learns what is his, and what’s not.

Oh, and that mouthing biting thing Mr. Know-it-All taught him? WHO in their right mind would teach a prey-driven high energy dog that human flesh is a bite-able toy, eh? In a house with small people in it? Fortunately, I think Blaze will not like biting his lips much longer when his mouth tries to close around my body parts. I have opposable thumbs and am quick. Abby’s mouth fits around Blaze’s head; his mouth doesn’t fit around hers. HE will lose.

The thing is, I would never have chosen to have a Shepherd-ish dog – ever. They are too high-energy for my life style. But here I am, with Blaze. I’m not really set up for a high-energy adolescent right now. I think I better get set up for a high-energy adolescent right quick! I had plans for what my next dog would be. This isn’t what I planned. Now, though, I have to turn a Blaze into a calm dog. Quite a challenge, I think.

My yarn is at risk; if he goes for my coffee cup? it’s war!

That is all, for now.

Friday, April 22, 2011 was an interesting day to live in St. Louis, MO – we had tornadoes come crashing through and lots of rain and thunder and lightning everywhere. National news reported the damage to our airport – and it is damaged: closed down, flights diverted – it is a mess. I live very close to the airport. Homes have been destroyed, not many injuries or fatalities, but a lot of significant property damage.

That’s the background, mostly.

I’ve written before about my neurotic dogs and their amazing ability to predict storms long before I get a severe weather alert from The Weather Channel on my Blackberry or in my email. (I don’t have TV, so I don’t watch the news, etc.) Chewie will go from guarding the perimeters to clinging to me like a barnacle; he vibrates, he shakes, his eyes get wild and glassy. When he starts this behavior, I take ibuprofen to ward off the headache, and prepare to endure having 6 legs and a tail for however long it takes. Abby stays closer than normal. Sometimes it is like having 10 legs and two tails. They are neurotic, but they are mine. In the face of neurotic dogs and storm conditions, I get calmer. I have to. Can you imagine if I freaked out too?

You will also know, if you’re a visitor here, that I have dental issues, and have had oral surgery to remove all my teeth and am undergoing continuing treatment to my bones to enable me to have boney structures and wear my dentures. During the healing process, I can’t wear my dentures often or for long periods. 10 pm is NOT a time I typically anticipate having to speak clearly and have long put the dentures back in their little house. You also know that this is NOT a topic to make light of with me. I joke to keep from weeping.

The stage is now set.

So, 4/22/2011, I am going about my normal routines trying to maintain normal for the neurotics in my house. I’ve turned off the computer because it is flicking on and off with power surges. I have to protect it; it is how I make my living. I have fully charged the Blackberry, so I’m getting every 3 minute alerts about what I can see and hear with the weather. I live with Chewie – I knew how bad this was going to be LONG before the systems developed that slammed the airport 4 blocks from my home. Can I care? sure. Can I do anything about it? no. So I set myself up to knit to DVDs in the livingroom, where the dogs can reach me easily. I also am hungry, so I’ve been preparing pasta for dinner. As I am fixing my dinner plate, reaching over 150 pounds of dog standing between me and anything else I try to touch beside them, as close as I can tell, is when that tornado swooped down 4 blocks from my home. I was not aware of it inside my house.

My younger brother, having been at a friend’s house swilling whatever hops/barley combination he was consuming, went home shortly before 10 pm and caught the news. He saw devastation 4 blocks from my home and figured maybe he should call and check. He found out I was alive, and proceeded to make fun of me about my unclear speech. Rather than get into it, I hung up. I turned off the phone. He tried to call back, ultimately leaving me voicemail … where he took a new tack, this time advising me that if I get blown away, I won’t need ruby slippers to make it back to land.

Is it funny? No.

Attempts at humor fueled by chemicals tend to not be funny. Attempts at humor which pick on a person’s most sensitive issues are not funny. Blaming the person so picked on for not finding humor is cowardly and bullying.

Love you too, kid brother of mine. Thanks for your concern; my house is standing, my dogs are fine, and so am I. Our relationship is not fairing equally well. You, of all people, should know better. I have confided in you these fears and upsets and embarrassments over the years; you’ve taken me for my procedures and follow-ups. YOU KNOW this is forbidden territory.

Storm damage indeed.

My coffee, my dogs, my yarn and I survived 4/22/2011 mostly intact.

That is all.

One of my major pet peeves is how often “conversation” is really a mask for telling someone else how to DO something because it is the way “I” do it, which of course is the ONLY way it should be done.

Example: I don’t give my dogs treats while they are out walking. Why? Mostly, I forget, but mainly because I want them to WALK while we’re out, not eat, you know? And No, I do NOT take treats with me to the park, or lake, or wherever. Why? Same reasons: we’re not there for a picnic, we’re there for a walk, a run, a swim, etc. We’ll have dinner when we get home, thanks.

SO, I’ve owned a lot of dogs over the years, you know? and gosh, my dogs don’t refuse to MOVE if they don’t get their little treat for taking four consecutive steps without bolting down the street, lunging at the kid riding by on his bike, or yapping their heads off at the grass. I really am NOT going to start carrying treats on walks. STOP TELLING ME WHEN IT WOULD BE APPROPRIATE TO GIVE MY DOG A TREAT, okay?  Thanks!

Example: I knit. Yes, I do, really. I buy yarn to feed the machine. I know WHERE to buy yarn, really, I do. And, I know where to buy the ‘crack’ yarn that feeds my stash and addiction. I gotta tell ya, it is NOT MICHAELS; it is NOT HOBBY LOBBY – they don’t stock Manos del Uruguay or Malabrigo, I PROMISE.*

SO, If I encounter a snag in a plan and appeal on a social site to friends who share my addiction and knowledge, to share their opinions and advice ’cause a plan isn’t coming together, and I’m using Malabrigo silk/wool blend yarn – you sending me a link to Michael’s to find contrasting yarn is just … meaningless and I pat myself on the back for understanding that you’re just trying to help, but posting links to RedHeart SuperSaver acrylic bulky to knit up with my precious silk/wool blend DK weight hand spun kettle dyed yarn is … annoying! yes, annoying.

Example:  I drink coffee (I know, that’s a great surprising news flash to most of you). I’ve been drinking my beverage of choice for many, many years now. My luxury budget each month pays for my coffee to be delivered to my home. Yep, I’m a boxed coffee kind of gal! I’ve had the same account, in good standing, with my purveyor of fine coffee for 17 years, people. I’ve owned a coffee pot of one kind or another for more years than that.

I know how to brew coffee, okay?  Thanks. I know how to grind beans; measure the grounds; place the filter in the machine; place the grounds in the machine in the filter; fill the machine with water; turn on the machine; be patient and inhale whilst brewing happens. I do occasionally omit one of these steps, but you’re supposed to run water through without grounds to clean the machine, right? **

The POINT is, I can do. I have been doing … just fine, without step-by-step assistance and advice that is a neverendingonandon. Gotta say right here, right now: EVEN IF your way is better, if you keep pushing at me? I’m going to dig my heels in right here, and not MOVE until you give me a treat. I’m going to grab my silk/wool blend yarn and hug it until big box stores close their doors; and I’m NOT GOING ANYWHERE without MY coffee, made my way! Got it?

Now, please note: I do NOT tell you how to do things. I don’t. IF you ask me, I will tell you one time what I think. I ALWAYS end this with something like “your mileage may vary”, “you are a grup”***, “only you can know what works for  you”, etc. I do NOT beat dead horses, nor do I assume that you’ve been unable to survive without me, really.

I’ll make you a deal: You take over all responsibility for my life, including but not limited to all fiscal issues of support, okay? I’ll gladly hand over decision making rights to you about every little thing I do, after you’ve been there supporting me for 30 years, which is how long I’ve been self-supporting and self-sufficient.

That is all! I have yarn, I need fresh coffee, and my dogs are snoring after gnawing on their raw bones at home.

*Mind you, I do shop Michaels, JoAnn’s, Hobby Lobby, and other big box type stores, and I’m not trashing them. This is about MALABRIGO, okay? LOL

** no, you’re supposed to run vinegar through first, then water to rinse. This removes the lime and calcium deposits, okay? LOL

*** Star Trek, Original series: Grown + Up = Grup to a group of children found alone on some planet somewhere encountered by the Enterprise during its mission to explore strange new planets, to seek out new life and new civilizations — to boldly go! Okay?

CH Mainsail's Blackbearie Express CGN - Gizmo

I’d like you, first of all, to meet the inspiration for this entry today:  Gizmo.  Giz is a 7 year old Newfoundland who lives in British Columbia with his people and a new pest, er, younger Newf pup named Rico.  This fellow is affectionately known variously as Giz, Gizzy, and Gizmo. I’ve been observing this dog through photos and videos posted by his doting people on FB and youtube for a couple years now. I consider his people friends and him a favorite dog to watch. His photo appears here with the kind permission of his people. Thank you!

Giz is, in so many ways, the epitome of Newf-dom. He is capable of, and has done with honor and distinction, much of what the Newfoundland is supposed to do: he’s a CH – that means he’s a handsome, well-built and well-moving boy who is very close to the breed standard for Newfoundlands. He is a carting dog, harkening back to one of the early occupations for this working breed. He’s a water rescue dog, also part of what the Newfoundland does to earn his place on the rug by your bed at night. But that’s not what this post is about.

This post is about the curiosity I feel when I see pictures like this one. There he sits, at the edge of the cove, looking out to sea. There are any number of photos like this posted regularly by the owners of Newfs on FB, but this is the one that struck me when I first saw it. My FIRST thought was: what does he see?* My SECOND thought was: what is he thinking?

Giz is often portrayed looking out over the water. It makes me wonder. Is there some ancestral memory in him that calls his gaze out to the horizon? What is he responding to? Is there some deep call in him, waiting for a ship to flounder out in that deeper water? Is he hearing the voices of his many ancestors who worked the ships in those and other waters? Or does he just want to go for a swim?

It is hard to look at this photo and not wonder what he is thinking. No one can convince me that there isn’t a thought process going on in there, or some response beyond the moment captured by the image.

There is almost a benediction offered by this Newf sitting on the shore, as if he is saying to the ships he cannot see: Go bravely and without fear, you who make your living on the deep water. We are here, we will save you if we can.

Giz, in an abstract way, makes me feel safer, just knowing that he’ll be on that shoreline – watching. I think it may be a connection to nature, to some more powerful force than the power of man. A knowing what the owners of many Newfs and other dogs know: with them in our lives, we’re a bit closer to that power and protected by and part of it.

May you have many more moments sitting on your shore, Giz – watching the ships that go sailing.

That is all!

*I was later advised that there were birds on the water he was watching.

I recently started a group on Facebook … Musical Memories … where several friends and I go back into our youth and childhood (and more recent times too) and post youtube videos of songs we liked or disliked or wherever we go on a stream of consciousness basis. It has sparked some interesting memories in all of us who play, and created some interesting bits of conversation. I’m happy I did it, and we’ll see how long that goes on.

I did mean to, really, I did, get my act together and post pictures of the works-in-progress in my knitting baskets. I did get them all organized, at least. But, I was seduced by the yarn and not so interested in photographing as I was in knitting. I’ll post as I make progress!

I’ve also spent the last week or so nursing a broken toe and cracked bone in my foot – that too has been a distraction from any productive writing. I would like to spend more time just sleeping it off, because we all know the body heals faster when we sleep. However, sleeping it off would be frowned on by the dogs, who would not get their regular potty times if I stayed in bed. So, I get up with the dogs, and let them out and in and out and in. So much for staying off my foot, eh?

Today has been an “out-of-body” day … where I’ve been really distracted from my surroundings. I’m not sure why, but I do know that coffee, dogs and yarn are here, waiting for me when I need them or they need me. I will at least pet the yarn on my way to bed!

that is all!