Gone To The Dogs Year End Reflection

How would the dogs sum up this year? The residents, Mick, Maddie and Kobe might say it was the year of the remedial fosters.

Kobe would say - young, wet behind the ears, whippersnappers. Don't know their nose from their tail. Don't mess with me pups. I may be old, I may be nearly toothless.....but I am the bark of authority in this house. If I'm not napping, that is.

Maddie would, and did, growl and snap at Pete and Sidney. Leave that ball alone - Its Mine! Don't sniff my butt - It's Mine! Don't crowd me, I'm The Princess around here. She nearly plucked Pete's whiskers a time or two. He must have left instructions for Sidney, or there is an urban legend about Maddie that all fosters hear about before arriving. She's cute, she's small, but she's a real bitch.

Mickey takes it all in stride. More goofy pointers - all right! Another foster - who cares. A new butt brother - about time. Whatever they don't know, makes me look like a genius.

And they, being Pete and Sidney have learned a lot. From stairs to house manners, from not knowing a treat if it bounced off their nose to Liver Treats! OMG Liver treats. From not knowing what a crate was, to learning the joys of snoozing in the sun. From learning the invisible fence, to learning that forever homes are even better than foster homes.

It's been, and continues to be a doggy-dog world here. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

New Year's Resolutions

I had a friend write me today, and say " here's hoping that any problems in 2009 last only as long a New Year's resolution that was made after a bottle of good Chardonnay (or a Margarita out of Styrofoam)." I like the way she thinks!

Got me thinking. I've never been a big fan of New Year's Celebrations. But the last two years gatherings have been absolutely delightful! Perhaps that is because Reno was in charge of all the plans. What a treat to fly out there, just show up and look pretty. No other responsibilities. It was a vacation with parties involved. New people, new places, some new clothes, new roads traveled. The only think missing were the dogs.

This year we are both here and I'm missing the anticipation, the romance, the fun. Not that we'll sit here like two bumps on a log. It will be what we make of it. So I know there will be laughter, warm fuzzy's and other good stuff! Plus the dogs to snuggle in with when we get home.

So as far as resolutions - which I suck at keeping: I resolve to laugh as much, if not more than I did this year. Foster at least 1 or 2 pointers. I plan to buy more fruits and veggies (yes, I'm going to try to eat them too). Sometimes I do better at buying than eating. I plan to stop and smell the roses, and pet the dogs. I hope to treat my faith like I do the potato chips and cheese. Something I can't resist, and won't hesitate to share.

Now I could go on and on. Like many of us we can make a list a mile long of what we plan to do. I believe I'll keep it simple. I'll laugh, live, love. Just like the dogs have taught me too.

Hiking

Reno and I took advantage of warm weather today and went hiking. Since we hope to get the lard out more in the weeks ahead today's walk was literally a step in the right direction.

Here are a few givens. Men are genetically wired to throw rock over bridges onto the ice below. In that same fashion, men are also genetically wired to spit off bridges, buildings, and other high places. You can't stop them and they can't help themselves.

Since I have a few oddities of my own I'll fess up too. I cannot take a long hike (especially in the cold) without needing a potty break. Long hikes rarely offer facilities when you need them. And I personally HATE tinkling in the outdoors. No matter how rural the setting, I am just sure someone can see me. Honestly, I make Reno turn his back. That is just way to personal. And sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. So I did. Thank you, I felt much better.

We did see some wildlife, a few hawks, had a rooster pheasant explode into motion just ahead of us. Luckily, I'd already tinkled by then. And we had a wild turkey jump into flight about 4 feet from us too. Scared the bejeebers out of me. Followed a flock of turkeys down the trail for a while too. Pretty darned cool.

Now the chicken sh*t in me was not thrilled with scrambling over the hill and down to the edge of the river. Read more man-rock heaving. The muddy Mo is not user friendly (to jumpers or those of fall in accidentally) so I don't like messing with her. But Reno morphed into all boy and chucked a few rocks that are going to float on ice slabs all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. He was a happy camper.

Nope we didn't take any dogs with us. They aren't allowed at the refuge we hiked at. They sure would have had a muddy ball though. There are a few questions I have in closing. Why do the animals crap on the path? They have the whole park to use and yet they choose the walking path. Why didn't God give animals a way to leap into flight without making so much noise? Between the turkey and the pheasant I about had a heart attack. Or maybe that's it. The element of surprise and the time it takes the heart to begin beating again gives the animal the time to skidaddle. That must be it.

Captions

If Sidney was described by captions he would read: "Plays well by himself. Prone to being a slug. Caution, has 5 reverse gears. Subject to spurts of excitement, causing him to shake, wiggle and shimmy. Eats poop. Hates getting into cars. Stubborn. Has a highly sensitive nose. Slightly timid, but highly trainable."

If Mickey was described he would read: "Consummate pet therapy dog. Highly talented dufus. Butterfly hunter. Holds the family record for chewing the most holes in blankets. Expert at attempting to stare squirrels down from tree's. Handsome bed hog. Has a highly sensitive nose."

And Kobe's description: "A face only a Mother could love. Has a highly sensitive nose, but can't remember where it is. Aged, but lovable. Warning, when excited, loses footing and scrambles on kitchen floor. Barks until fed. Has a happy soul. Not embarrassed by peeing on his front legs. Extremely camera shy".

Maddie's captions would read: "Where's the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball. Adorable when newly groomed. Excellent watch dog. Lounges on back with toys in mouth. Bed hog. Has a highly sensitive nose that always knows where the ball is. Licks paws habitually. Occasionally counter surfs. Is a brat when caught counter surfing.

Reno's caption - "Sleeps well through TV programs, but instantly alert when a commercial comes on. Has a highly sensitive nose. Thus finding puddles and piles intolerably offensive. Has a sense of humor as fine tuned as his nose. Never hesitates to lift Kobe and carry him up or down stairs as necessary. Hard working, loves fishing, hunting and NE football (not!) Knowledgeable. Organized. Patient. Prone to taking the last Cinnamon Santa. A real sweetheart."

Me - "Crazy dog lady. Short attention span. Mathematically inept. Able to laugh and cry at the exact same time, although it makes breathing difficult. Amusing. Prone to spending too much time on the net. Creative, but somewhat less than organized. Talented designer, and cook. Semi directionally challenged. Less sensitive nose, would not have made a good bird dog. Laughs outloud. Grateful and faith filled".

Yeppers, this sum us up to a "t", or a "c" for caption!

Creatures of Habit

We are. for many reasons, creatures of habit. Even Sidney is. He was totally content using his crate at night, and when we went out. Until we moved it to put the Christmas tree up. Now, the only time he goes willingly into it is for his morning and evening meals. Until we moved his crate he'd race willing in for whatever treat I offered. Now, it like stuffing a pointer through the eye of a needle. I believe I could toss a t-bone in there and he would not be swayed. I am curious to see how he responds when we move his crate back to his original place.

In the meantime, this stubborn steak of his has given us the opportunity to see how he does in the house loose, when we go out, or to bed. Well, I tested him at night time. He does very well, unless there is a bunny under the bird feeder in the middle of the night. Then he wants to go out in the worst way!! Only one of us hears him at night, so guess who has night duty?

Without naming names, it was the other of us who left him loose in the house when we went to work yesterday. Nothing got chewed, ripped, torn, destroyed or otherwise damaged. He is pretty much a slug most of the day - he learned that from the other dogs who have honed that to a fine skill.

They are creatures of habit, theirs and well as ours. His stubbornness challenged us to see how he does unsupervised. And he does very well. No, he has not won the battle of the crate, but he has crossed another hurdle which makes him even more adoptable. As if his adorable, quirky, silly Sid-ness wasn't enough already.

Possible Explanations

Take one lemon and white pointer, approximately 2 yrs old, suffering from cabin fever. Give him an hour outside on a 55 degree day. Add the remains of several inches of snow -so basically a wet yard. Suffice it to say he had fun.

Possible explanation of what he did include: Spring training for the NY Yankees - with today's drill being sliding into home. Fire safety awareness - with today's drill being - stop, drop and roll. Canine mud wrestling. He's entered the political arena - you guessed it, today's drill being mud slinging. He went to the Salon today and decided he'd rather be liver and white. He was suddenly overcome by the urge to make snow angels, except there was no snow.

He is filthy as only a young, exuberant, see me run, I'm a Spaz, pointer can be. And, we're on our way out. So by the time bath time arrives, his name will be mud - as in dried mud. Oh happy day.

Shhhhhh.......quiet.

After all the gifts are wrapped, and unwrapped. After dinners are served and dishes washed. After all the desserts baked and consumed. After family arrives and departs. After all the emotion and commotion. After all the kids have come and gone, dogs have been in and out, after all the celebration. Take a deep breath and be silent.

Silent like the night so long ago. Silent in peace, in reverence, in hope. Quiet in our contentment, and in our gratitude.

And in this peaceful moment experience the joy of the season.

Merry Christmas from our house to yours.

The Day Before The Day Before

Or, I'm not stopping until I get that last gift. And, I'm only going to one store to do it. Not counting the grocery store.

Oh, and before I forget - do not be alarmed by the big red stains on the driveway. More on that later.

A few last minute holiday thots. First of all. Man, are we blessed! A huge thank you to the Big Guy upstairs for that. Secondly, wow, are we going to eat like royalty the next couple days. Again - thanks Big Guy!

Thirdly, I know money's been tight this year. I can tell because I've only made one car bow this season. You know, those big flying bows people decide at the last minute they need for the car they just bought someone. The same ones that make my hands cramp unmercifully to make. What amuses me is that someone will buy a $20,000 gift and then fuss over a $20 bow. Really, I can make a bow as cool as that Lexus! Don't cheap out now.

In a really random thot that came to me while in line at the grocery store.....is a woman's hair cut that is short in front and very long in back a mullet too? Or is that just a man thing?

And lastly, about the stain on the driveway. Truthfully, if it wasn't on top of fresh snow it would not be so obvious. And maybe, by the time Reno gets home tonight, one of the dogs will help me hide the evidence. It might look like a gruesome accident happened, but truly it is Cocktail Sauce splattered on the driveway. Nope, it was not intentional. That bottle was a jumper. It knew there was shrimp in the other bag and it made a last ditch effort to escape. Wow! Was I surprised! And, holy crap, does flying sauce go far!

Okay - now that I've got these thots on paper (in a manner of speaking). I can go back and finish unloading the groceries. I only hope all the goodies cooperate and no more food flies like you know what hitting the fan.

Knowledge of Self

Okay - I have to admit something. I generally get the blues a couple days before holidays. The holiday isn't even here yet, and I'm sad it's over. I have a blue day, and then, as quick as it comes, the sadness is gone again.

In some way's working in retail exacerbates this. We shop for the next Christmas season two weeks into January. We start Spring in January, Fall in June, Christmas in August. We are always racing ahead to the next season. Granted racing from Christmas to Spring seems mighty tempting right now.

We push so hard to get through the busy season that it's a let down when the big day arrives. Add to that a dose of reality that the dollar didn't stretch very far, the "family" we long for may not be the one we actually have, the dream gift we always wanted may not ever materialize. I know, it's not like me to look at life less than optimistically.

I should be wrapping, crafting, baking, shoveling, working on the scarf I'm making for Christmas (maybe for Christmas next year, that is). There are a few more cards to be written too.

I do have to believe I'm not alone in these feelings. I'd like to get it all done - but it isn't going to happen. I know tomorrow I'll feel perkier, more in the spirit.

Today isn't forever. The blues will pass. They always do.

Emergency Blankets

On this first day of winter, one needs to consider safety precautions. With temps going down to -10 tonight it's time for wool sweaters, mittens, Dr. Denton's, boots, mufflers, and hats to mention a few. It wouldn't hurt to have an emergency blanket either.

Some would consider an emergency blanket the type of item to keep in your car during the winter. And some of you would be right. I have one in my car right now.

I gave Reno an emergency blanket tonight in fact. This one is for use in our bedroom. He seems to have trouble maintaining his share of the blankets. I don't know if this has been a life long issue, or a recent development. I, on the other hand, am an expert on blanket retention. I always have enough blankets, plus a dog or two to provide extra insulation.

Last night, during the night, I found myself unbearably warm suddenly (read hot flash). First I peeled the top blanket off, then the second blanket and finally I crawl on top of all the blankets thus pinning them. Reno found himself unbearable cold suddenly. However, no amount of tugging yielded any covers. Hmmmm......gosh I feel bad for him.

So tonight I gave him an extra blanket. An emergency blanket, if you will. If for some odd reason his share of the covers slips from his grasp, he has an extra. How someone who is the master of the remote can't hold onto blankets boggles my mind. It's a simple grasp and hold technique.

But, since I have a generous nature he has a Plan "B". And "B" would be for Blanket.

Fond Memories

What are your fondest memories of the Christmas Season? Yes, this is an interactive blog. Feel free to respond.

My fondest memories of childhood involved wrapping presents with my Mother. We would set up a card table in my bedroom and just wrap, wrap, wrap. I learned how to tie bows during those sessions. Perhaps that was my first lesson in becoming a florist. I have no doubt I've tied 10,000+ bows during my life time. Every one with skills I learned from my Mom.

My other fondest memories are from my kids childhood. I loved to nurse the kids by the gentle light of the Christmas tree. No other lights on - just the twinkle of the tree lights and a precious newborn in my arms. That was the only time those middle of the night feedings were a welcome interruption.

We also read a book every Christmas season by the title of "The Life and Times of Santa Claus". We would start right after Thanksgiving thinking we had all kinds of time to get it read. It never failed we were scrambling right up until Christmas Eve to get all the chapters read. I loved reading to the kids. Those were the best times.

I do recall a time when two of the dogs knocked over the Christmas tree. I believe it was Mickey and Fancy. They got to rough housing and a canine butt body checked the tree. It came crashing down. You never saw two dogs with such guilty looks on their faces. They steered way clear of the tree after that incident.

So what were your favorite memories? This would be a good week to ponder and share them.

Random Holiday Thots

We went to a Christmas party last night. It was either our first annual or second annual (depending on which one of us you ask) visit to this party. I maintain (because I am a woman, hence always right) it was our second annual. Reno claims otherwise. I won't bore you with his version. The host and hostess always dress up for this party. She in her Mrs. Claus dress with fishnets and heels, and he in a red blazer, Christmas tie, and white beard. The guest book is in the bathroom. Eventually everyone ends up there anyway. Every room of the house decked out for Christmas, right down to the window treatments and bedding. Even the dogs were decorated with season collars, hats and antlers. Well, one dog had his hat on. The other dog who reportedly had antlers at one point didn't have them when we arrived. That might explain the main floor toilet overflowing. Little Herbie Husker the dachshund just might not have been antler material. My guess is his antlers resembled the ones in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Thus the need to destroy (or flush) the evidence.

Good news is we finally have gifts under the tree. The two gifts that arrived in November when we had Reno's surprise party were placed there yesterday. Heck, I didn't even know they were in the house!

Growing up gifts were never put under the tree until after the kids went to bed on Christmas Eve. After all, Santa brought the gifts. I can remember snooping - yes, I was that kind of child. Mom would have sacks of wrapped presents in her room. Now, in my defense I didn't actually open anything. I just needed reassurance I'd be getting something.

Even now it's hard to break that tradition and put gifts under the tree early. Perhaps I need to practice, practice, practice. Sometimes we just have to do a new thing until it feels comfortable.

And speaking of gifts under the tree - it must be time to get cracking on the wrapping. The day of celebration draws near. Perhaps in wrapping and giving gifts we can learn to unwrap our love and faith. Which, of course, is the reason for the season.

Gifts

Call them co-worker gifts, associate gifts, doorman gifts, gifts for teachers, hair dressers, no doubt some folks give gifts to their chauffeur's. I don't fall into any of those categories. Heck, no one gives their florist a gift for the holidays. No, not griping, just a random (but true) observation.

As a boss, I do give a few gifts to my employees. No, not all expense paid trips to exotic places, no furs, cars, or Prada bags. Unless I find one at the thrift store that is. I do have an employee who has a bunny. She loves her bunny like I love my dogs. So my gift this year is treats for Truffles the bunny. I know she probably doesn't splurge on Truffles, so I'm excited to help with that. I had no clue what bunnies like, so I went to an outside consultant. This bunny consultant (who is also sort of my sister-in-law) gave me all the dirt on bunny extravagances. If in doubt go directly to an expert!

I also hope to get a gift made to take up to the vet clinic staff. I'm certain it's not necessary. After all, I've bought my vet a house and will put his kids through college. Still a small token would be nice. I'm thinking of making a garland of edibles for the birds in their yards. Similar to pine cone bird feeders, without the pine cone, peanut butter and bird seed. Somewhere I read of stringing popcorn, grapes, cranberries and raisins. That's the plan. If you'd like to come over a night this weekend and help make them the door will be open, a fire going in the fireplace, and we'll open some wine. Who knows, maybe Martha Stewart will swing by with some nifty tip on making them. Lord, I hope she brings her staff along so we can drink while they work.

On a personal note (like all of these aren't personal notes) I did receive a gift from another business we are affiliated with. It is a gift certificate for a hair cut at a local salon. I think it's a darling idea, although maybe they are trying to tell me something.

Still, it's the thought that counts - and basically we could all stand to be more thoughtful of others. At Christmas, and every day of the year, gift thanks (yes, I did mean gift-thanks) to those who share your life. And don't forget your florist.

No Thank You - I"m Okay

Ever notice how often we turn down help? Maybe it's a Mom thing. We're used to getting by on our own. Even when our hands and plates are clearly full. Just like a Mom will keep plugging away when they don't feel good. If they don't do it - who will? Of course, there are some who go to bed for a week with the teeniest of colds, aches and pains. They usually aren't the Mom's of the world.

I was observing a young Mother at the grocery store today. She had three young kids and a cart full of groceries. Add coats, hats, gloves and a crying toddler. I remember those days of trying to get through a store without a child crying or merchandise being broken.

As she made her way out to her car, I asked if I could help her in any way get her groceries loaded. The sad part is most people would be (and perhaps we should be) leery of a stranger approaching them in a parking lot. Hopefully, I did not present an obvious risk. Her response was quite like mine would have been. No thank you - I'm Okay.

Yes, we can juggle groceries, cranky kids, carts and cars. Sometimes though we don't have to. And then, I hope we/you/me can be open to helping hands that suddenly present themselves.

The Best

I made the best soup the other day. In fact, it was the best soup I have ever, ever made. Probably the best I will ever make. I can say that because I always have a Ziploc bag in the freezer with little dabs of left overs and soup fixin's. I'll never have that exact combination of fixins again. It was so good the Soup Nazi would have saluted me. It was a treat because so many times when I cook I end up thinking - that was good, but I'd do this different next time. Or it was tasty, but not quite perfect. This soup was the cat's meow.

I also made the worst Bourbon Balls the other day. Now, I know, you are wondering how bad could a bourbon ball be? Anything with sugar, bourbon and chocolate couldn't be that bad. I'm not exactly sure what I did wrong, or didn't do right, but they refuse to roll into balls. The flavor is good, if you don't mind hacking them out of the bowl.

Funny how in the same week, day, or even moment we can both do our absolute best and our absolute worst. Cooking is like that, people are like that, life is like that.

Perhaps part of that is attitude. Choosing to find the good in things. Although no amount of attitude would make those bourbon balls do their thing. That is where you just have to laugh at the outcome. Sometimes you get the best, sometimes the worst. The end result is purely a matter of choice. I believe I'll have the best, thank you very much.

Dog Presents

Let me say this - I have not gotten into the habit of buying Christmas presents for the dogs. I must not be that far over the top for the dogs More likely the money just doesn't stretch that far. They do have ornaments on the tree, and I need to start adding one for each foster we have. I'll get Pete and Sidney's done this week.

Mickey is my pet therapy dog. He gets a present each year from the gal's at the hospital we do our visit at. They love us, we love them, pet therapy is a win-win situation. One year we got picture frames that have dog paws on them. Kobe's picture is in that one back when he was doing therapy work. Another year they had coasters made with each dog's photo on them. Very cool gifts.

Yesterday they had Mickey's gift waiting for him when we arrived. He received a Christmas stocking. Visualize a plush stocking with a soft musical dog head at the top. Functional and entertaining. The ears flap up and down as the song plays. The lyrics say "I get so excited (about holiday gifts) my ears go flippity-flop, I get so excited I think my head is going to pop."

We played the song for Mickey at the hospital. He's a pretty cool dude during his visits so I believe professional decorum hid his real excitement. I played it for all the dogs later that evening. Maddie took Mickey's laid back approach to it, Sidney cowered a little and was highly skeptical. Kobe thought it would make a wonderful chew toy! Kobe got the message from the lyrics.

May you be so excited your ear's go flippity flop. I love that thought! Most of us go through the holidays missing that kind of excitement. Dog understand the logic, in fact live with that exuberance.

So my wish for you is this. May you have friends who love you with gifts just like Mickey received. And may you be so excited your ears go flippity flop.

Winter Thots

No, I'm not a rocket scientist. But here are some simple winter driving rules.

1. In case no one ever told you - slow down.
2. In case you just plain forgot - slow down.
3. In case you are just an idiot - slow down.
4. Watch out for the other guy who has not read rules 1-4.

Also - parents - put a hat on that child!! I must be getting old. When I see small kids without hats and gloves, in 10 degree weather, a crabby, nosey person emerges from me with an incredible urge to chastise someone for not dressing kids right for the weather. Now, I understand 'tweens and teens wouldn't be caught dead in a hat, heck most adults won't wear them. But those little ears, heads and hands count on you to dress them right and keep them warm! As I say, I must be getting old - I wear a hat, and gloves, and I go slowwwww in the snow. My Mom would be proud of me.

My apologies to Mickey today too. He and I did our weekly pet therapy visit. I think he would have tolerated the walk in and out better if there was just snow. But there was a heavy layer of salt on the sidewalks and parking garage. Half way to the building, and then again half way to the car he all but quit walking because his paws hurt! Dogs don't understand if you cross the distance faster (in direct contrast to rules 1-4 above!) your paws will quit hurting sooner. It's rather embarrassing to carry a dog who could run in the field for miles. Unless, of course, his paws hurt. I ended up picking him up and carrying him part of the way. Not good for my back, but good for picking up the pace. Poor dude!

In other words..... It's time to go slow Joe. Just put on a hat Pat. The salt stops the slick Mick. It's time to beat feet Pete. Try not to skid Sid. And watch out for the other guy Di.

Warm

Warm fuzzies. Snug as a bug in a rug. Toasty warm. Warm feelings. Warm smile. Warm words. Warm beverages. Warm clothing. Warm chocolate chip cookies!! Warm up the car! All tucked in warm and cozy.

It's easy to figure out why warmth is on my mind lately. We've been hovering in the +5 to -7 degree temp's since Sunday. Today is bringing 3-4 inches of snow. You know the phrase "blanket of snow"? That's just wrong!

Warm is many things. It's a feeling we get from some people. They just exude warmth by their personality, their actions, their compassion. Others are cold to the core. Brrrr.....

I was marveling at the dogs this morning. I love how they curl up in a ball, nose all tucked in. They generate more heat than a heating pad that way. I know I can crawl under the covers (multiple layers!) and still be cold. They just roll up and become little canine toaster ovens. Better yet, they don't mind a cold hand on their warm belly like Reno does!! Or myself, for that matter.

Here's another favorite one......spread the warmth. Ohhh, imagine if we all did that today? Kinda makes you warm just thinking about it.

Get Your Hands Off My.......

Let's begin with, I was married for 18 years, then I was divorced for 10 years. Now I'm somewhere in between married and divorced - I'm a significant other. I've learned a lot about myself over the years. Now Reno and I are learning about each other. This week I discovered we don't share well.

I bought a bag of Cinnamon Santa's. I think they may be my favorite seasonal candy. Dot's are good all around candies. But when there are seasonal goodies - oh baby watch out. I got a bag of the Santa's and brought them home. Reno discovered them. He likes them as much as I do. I may be biased, but I think he eats them faster than I do. Of course, I have had several people say I am the slowest eater in the world. I get three bites to a Santa, and Reno gets two. This may factor in. Suffice it to say the first bag absolutely vanished and I don't think I got my share. Again - I may be biased, but I think the women of the world will take my side.

We decided we each need our own bag. That way we don't have to share, can consume at our own pace and there will be no - you ate more - comments made. Sounds like a great idea. So I bought us each a bag. Should be end of story, but No!

A new competitiveness has been exposed. I got the candy on Thursday. Both bags are on the counter. Neither of us has been willing to rip open their bag. Bizarre as it seems, this way we both have the same amount! Strange as it seems, it's a battle of will power. I have been tempted to take a marker and write "His Bag" and "Her Bag". And then rip open his and have a couple. But that could get ugly.

I may have to get a bag for my desk at work. That way I'd have some for now and some for later. Either way this little delectable has brought self-knowledge. I've learned I can be competitive and nit-picking (hard to believe, I know). Over the year's I've learned a thing or two. I won't hesitate to say "Get Your Hand's Off My........Cinnamon Santa's". Funny how candy can unleash the child within. In fact, I just bet his bag has more than mine. So not fair.

All Decked Out

Here's the deal - I have always said I'm the "crazy dog lady" in the family. I can live with that title, in fact, I'm rather proud of it.

People ask - how many dogs do you have - I reply, only four. To some that is an astonishing amount of canine residents. To me, it's just the right number. But this blog is not about me. It's about Sidney.

Our dogs are house dogs, bed dogs, sofa dogs, snuggle pups, resident dogs, foster dogs. We do draw the line at dressing them up. For example, a Halloween bandanna is as far as I will go. And for Christmas, Mick wears some jingle bells tied to his leash with a scrap a holiday fabric. No reindeer antlers - I just can't do it. I understand others can and do. If it works for them, that's just peachy.

You can imagine my surprise to find that Reno took an extra set of Christmas lights and decorated Sidney's crate with them. My, he looks so festive!!!! I've never decorated a crate before. Well, except to put some "caution 50th birthday in progress" ribbon on Sid's crate. It seems we have started a new tradition with Sidney. He's getting privileges the residents never have. I hope there is not a mutiny for that.

Where does that leave us? Well, Sid is all decked out for the holidays. And there is a crazy dog man in residence here with this crazy dog lady. How cool is that?

Baby It's Cold Outside

Or a tale of two days. Or, give me your huddled masses.

Yesterday, we worked outside without coats. Shopped for a Christmas tree, visited the Bohemian National Cemetery in Omaha (no, we're not even Bohemian). Sometimes you just have to visit places you've driven by a thousand times though. We also hung some Christmas lights, played fetch, moved some patio pots inside, scooped some poop, etc. etc. etc. It was a sunny 58 degrees. Not too shabby.

This morning it's 18 degrees, winds 25 mph from the north, snowing like crazy. I sent the dogs out to do their business and they finished in record time. I looked out the door for them and there they were. Three pointers and a springer hugging each other like your huddled masses on Ellis Island.

Yesterday Maddie chased the Frisbee and Sidney chased Maddie who was chasing the Frisbee. A couple times Sidney got the Frisbee first. Talk about doggie bliss. Sidney bounced through the yard with joyful exuberance. He doesn't get the concept to chasing and catching mid-air. But he gets the thrill of retrieving it. Well, except for returning it for another throw.

Today they raced for the couch, the recliner, the bed and the blanket by the heater vent. I suspect they won't poke their noses outside for even a second unless nature calls. I mean really calls.

You gotta love Nebraska weather. One day gorgeous, the next day grueling. Never ever boring. Often entertaining. Just like living in a doggy-dog world.

Got Milk?

I need to find out which advertising agency does the Got Milk? commercials. If you have a contact at that agency please send me their name. I believe Kobe could be the new poster dog for their promotion.

You may be wondering where I got this wild idea. Actually Kobe did it himself. Not bad for an old arthritic dog. My boys are prone to breaking wind on a regular basis. And Kobe is uniquely qualified. Add to his wind skills he has that funky bottom lip from an old kicking injury. I believe that droopy lip may make him rich beyond our dreams. He may require his own agent - I'll volunteer for that position. I promise not to be a psycho Mom agent who robs the child blind. In fact all the proceeds from his commercials will go right to Pointer Rescue.

Kobe was eating breakfast this morning. He regular kibble, and yogurt. Something startled him and he looked up momentarily. There was that glorious bottom lip covered in yogurt. If that doesn't say "Got Milk" promotion quality I don't know what does.

So lets sign him up and get him the publicity he deserves. From rescue dog to celebrity - that's my boy.

Mission Accomplished

Four years ago, and one semester, my second son left for college. Okay, left is a relative term. He left for freshman year leaving behind a bedroom full of his stuff. He came home between freshman/sophomore years and set up another bedroom in the basement and then left behind a second room of his stuff. Not to mention the fish tank in the garage which he's been going to take with him for over two years now.

I am proud to say he sent me a text today telling me he is officially done! Done as in done with all his classes. Done as in ready to graduate. Those of you who have kids in college know that not everything they say is the complete truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Basically, it's better we don't know. But, I know this is true because the college has already had him sign papers on repayment of his school loans. And I have no doubt whatsoever that the financial aid office staff is having a rip roaring party today. Every one of those women who helped him with the financial aid process has no doubt wanted to hang him at sun down more than once.

Come to think of it, I've wanted to do that myself. The time he called to say he'd been thrown out of the dorms comes to mind. Followed immediately by the time he admitting to taping a conversation with the Dean of Students (without the Deans approval or knowledge) regarding said expulsion. Now that I think of it, the local police in that small college town will have trouble writing their quota of citations without him in school there. Or perhaps they will all attend his graduation ceremony in May since they know him so well.

Not that it's all been harrowing escapades during his college career. Those are just the ones I know about. He played soccer all through college and some of his soccer bud's are like second sons to me.

And while I'm doing the happy dance for his accomplishment I have to say he is the first child in my family, including my siblings and all of their kids, to reach this goal. I'm danged proud of him. His next goal is Grad school in the Fall for his MBA. Of course he brought that up when I said as soon as you finish school you have to start paying your own car insurance.

Sign me - One Proud Mom of a College Graduate

Meaning

What does it mean to you? I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Don't be mean. I didn't mean that. What I meant to say is..... So many ways to use this word.

With the holiday season upon us - meaning - becomes really important. We make a special effort during this time of year to honor what has meaning to us. What a shame we don't do that on a daily basis. Imagine if we honored our spouses, kids, friends, family, work that way. Doing this to the best of our ability, every day. Imagine if we just tried to do this.

As I write about meaning, the dogs are all around me. Mick and Sidney are laying in the sun in the spare bedroom. Maddie and Kobe are laying in the hallway, close enough to keep an eye on me. I mean the world to them, and they to me.

My favorite holiday music by Trans-Siberian Orchestra is playing. I love Christmas music - it has special meaning. Reno loves eggnog - it has special Christmas meaning to him. If we have some here it means I have to be really fast if I want to get some. The ornaments, the tree, the traditions - there's that special meaning stuff again. Secret Santa's, special cards, treats and goodies. It means Christmas is upon us.

Which brings me to the question. What has meaning in your life??? And how will you honor that? Do your actions reflect the love you feel, do you find time to celebrate, to pray, to care, to act. If I left today - is there anything you meant to tell me??

I think, therefore, - meaning requires action. Take action today - it may mean the world to you.

Random Thots - Shoes

I did something today that the youth of the world will probably think is archaic. I polished my shoes. Strange, but true. I can remember my Father polishing his shoes. I was fascinated by the cans of polish with their neat little lids that twisted off. Reno has a shoe shine box - and it's pretty cool. It has brushes, several cans of polish, special clothes for rubbing with. Just like my Father's shoe shine kit. It takes me right back. While my shoes don't look brand new, they do look tons better. And I felt some pride in cleaning them up.

Speaking of shoes. We went out for a business dinner last night and I wore heels. I had to buy some because I am truly shoe challenged. I am of an age where comfort almost always comes first. However, sometimes a woman wants a pretty shoe. Pretty does not equal comfortable. Orthopedic does not equal pretty. I didn't have anything suitable for cold weather dress shoes. So on my lunch break I ran out and got a pair. I invested about what one would expect for a pair of shoes I might wear 2-3 times max. If I had been able to find some at a consignment shop I would have. They passed muster and were not terribly uncomfortable, not bad for a dress shoe. Until today that is. Today my shins hurt like an aging sedentary athlete who ran a marathon. They hurt like a son of a gun. If shins could scream, mine would scream bloody murder. Did I mention they hurt?? Ahhh, the price we pay to look pretty. I'm so glad I only dress up a couple times a year.

So there you have it, no pain, no gain, no pretty feet dining out. And, if all else fails polish, polish, polish. Sometimes the old ways still work, and it is satisfying to invest yourself in a better presentation.

Home

The voice mail on our home answering machine said the following "I don't know why you own a home, you are never there". No, "Hi, this is ______. " No, "sorry I missed you this is ____give me a call when you have a second". Certainly not, "Hi honey, it's ______, call me". Even in it's brevity it's a rather telling message.

Truth is we spend a lot of time here. We start and end the day here. In fact, our hearts are always here, and our minds/body/spirits call it a place of rest. Our favorite things are here, and our most treasured memories are here. The dogs are here. When our kids visit, our home takes on new meaning, is filled with extra love and a multitude of warm fuzzies. Naturally work (for some of us), and other responsibilities, requires us to leave it, but we always come back.

It's not shelter magazine pretty, or a mansion in any way shape or form. It's simple, it has dog fur in it, on it, and around it. There may be some dishes needing to be washed, mail to be dealt with, dusting to be done. The family room tends to be really cold in the winter months, and the upstairs hot in the summer months. But it's home.

So, while last night we weren't physically home, in reality part of us is always home. And we are darned blessed to have it. Last nights message really wasn't about owning a home, or even being there, or not being there as the case may be.

But, it made me pause to appreciate our home. And to give thanks for it. All in all - that's a very good thing.

Annual Christmas Letter

This morning I was sitting in a doctor's office while my girlfriend was having a colonoscopy. Suddenly I was inspired to write this first annual Christmas letter. I know receiving letters like this can be as fun as a colonoscopy or other mildly invasive procedure.

It's been a big year for us. Big as in blessings, even though thus far we did not win the lottery, receive our doctorate, be promoted to president, travel on our dream vacation, or have 3 kids in college carrying 4.0 gpa's.

Reno did come out of semi-retirement and join the work world again. He'll be the first to tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be. But it pays the bills - which is a very good thing. I miss having him home to clean, do laundry and cook. That was fun while it lasted and I know I could adapt easily to that lifestyle again if need be. I begged for the opportunity to go into semi-retirement, but he just laughed. Go figure.

During this year I did see the stuff in the garage get shifted enough to make room for my truck during the cold months, and then during the summer the stuff kind of slid back into the parking spot. It's that ebb and flow of life I think. We have neighbors (the garage dwellers) who drink cheap beer and socialize in their garages, though for some reason they never invite us to join them. Oh wait, maybe that's because I'm the crazy dog lady in the circle. Personally, I'd rather not have a spotless garage, own dogs, drink good beer and entertain in our home rather than in the garage. Frankly they don't own dogs, so they are suspect anyway.

We've fostered two dogs this year. Neither of which had lived inside before. Sure is fun to see them learn the comforts (and rules) of life inside. Okay, I think it's fun - Reno probably doesn't think it's quite as fun as I do, but he indulges me on the dogs, just like I indulge him on the stuff in the garage. Pete was adopted in June and moved to New York City. I visited him in October. He is living the life of Riley, what a lucky dog. Sidney is still in our foster care. We are happy to share our sofa with him, until his forever sofa becomes available.

Over the summer we did a little bbq-ing, drank a little wine and enjoyed a visit from Reno's kids. Later in the year we celebrated our 50th birthdays. He is quick to tell me we have 100 years of life experience between us. Oh goodie. Can't we just double our pleasure, double our fun?

We haven't lost all the money in our IRA accounts, we haven't lost our minds, or lost weight. Two out of three ain't bad. And while we don't have our tree up, or our shopping done (or maybe not even begun), we have been blessed by employment, health, dogs, kids, family and friends.

So from our house to yours we wish you a wonderful holiday season. May your life include richness beyond measure, enough money to pay the bills, some pets to teach us about unconditional love and family/good friends to love us. Just like we do you!

Have a Merry and a Happy!

Keys

How many keys do you carry on your key ring?? Are there any that you really don't need?

We often carry about things we don't really need. From keys, to attitudes, to worries. We just find it difficult to let go. I'll be the first to raise my hand in agreement on that one. I tend to carry some past hurts, some future worries, so unrealistic expectations. Perhaps we all do.

I have a key on my key ring that goes to a door in my house. I keep thinking I need to take it off my key ring. Why? Well because the locks have been changed and that key fit's nothing - absolutely nothing in my house. And yet, I find it difficult to remove it and just pitch it. Now, all that said, I also have a little dish that has some odds and ends keys that I no longer even know where they belong to. At least I used to know what the key on my ring belonged to. That's a step up and something to be proud of.

My goal this week is to pitch out that key. I need keys to the car, the house, the store. I need keys to my beloveds heart. I wouldn't mind having some keys to wisdom, or to Warren Buffett's bank account. Those may, or may not come with time.

The key thing is to keep what we need and dispose of what we don't. Otherwise we carry more weight than we really need. The key is to remain open and optimistic. The key is to have faith and to believe. So take a look at those keys. Pitch those you don't need and travel lightly.

Crates

I am a firm believer in the value of crate training a dog. I own both the wire crates, and the plastic ones. I've seen in magazines the ones that look like real furniture. Wow! They are gorgeous. If I had a talented carpenter in the family I'd ask them to build us one.

Of course, since I live by the piling system, crates do serve more than one purpose. They have been a place for me to stack laundry, lay my delicate "do not dry" items out to, you know, dry. Crates make a coffee table of sorts also.

We took ours a step further and made a little bar out of it when we had the big 50th birthday celebration for Reno in November. We needed a place to put all the wine glasses and a couple bottles of scotch. So a cookie sheet became our "shelf" so to speak on the crate, and within easy reach. But after the party, those items just kinda stayed on Sidney's crate. Really, as a foster dog he has it all, a dry bar complete with two bottles of really good single malt scotch.

I don't know what got into Sidney during the night last night. But about 4:30am I heard a commotion. Even in my sleep I can identify crate noises so part of me knew it was not an intruder or anything. Perhaps he was high jumping, or trying to chase a bunny, or was exorcising a demon of some kind. But he make enough motion to tip over a bottle of scotch and take down a glass off the serving tray. Maybe he was just tired of smelling the Scotch and was hell bent to have a sip. Really, I was going to get up and investigate, but at that point silence prevailed (Sid was probably afraid to move at that point) and I drifted back to sleep.

So I have to say the party must really be over. The little scotch bar on the crate was disassembled this morning. Sid's valiant effort to taste the yummy failed to come to fruition. And his crate is just his crate once again. Until, of course, it is reinvented.

Mom would you.....

There is almost no way to respond to a question that begins with "Mom would you...." except to say yes. Well, at least when they were young, and now that they are older. During those teen years, the no's came way more than the yes'.

My oldest son called the other day. He and some buddies are going camping for several days. You don't have to tell me they are crazy to camp/hunt in this weather. I know it. He began with the camping part and then said the other guys Mom's are fixing this and this for them to take and would I make something too. It's not like these guys are boy scouts. They are young adults, will full time jobs and other responsibilities. I guess, however, you are never to old to sucker you Mom into cooking for you. There was no way on earth I could say no to that question.

One Mom made chili, the other made pasta salad. Ok - I have to ask who eats pasta salad in the winter (much less takes it camping)?? That one seems really bizarre - but I may be a habitually seasonal eater. Not to be outdone, I made a huge pot of chicken and chorizo gumbo. I believe I made enough to feed an army. They will love it. Personally, I thought it was going to put hair on my chest.

Maybe these boys are smarter than your average bear. After all, none live at home, but they can still finagle a hot meal from dear old Mom. Maybe Mom's just need to be needed and this request fills that need. In that case they are pure genius.

Either way they get a good meal, or two, or three. I'm happy to cook, and delighted it's not me camping out. I guess it's all good. Hopefully as good as the gumbo.

A Little Bit of Fruitcake......

Jimmy Buffett sang about it....you know, a little bit of fruitcake in every one of us. So true. It must be a coming of age thing. I hit 50, and I ended up with fruitcake in my refrigerator. And we were even eating it. Perhaps a 1/2" slice, split between the two of us, every 12 days or so. At this rate the fruitcake will last until Easter. Or so we thought.

We were celebrating getting through another week tonight. We keep our expectations low so we can do just this - celebrate. We were enjoying a fire, wine, and a little fruitcake before we started the grill for dinner. Now, many people joke that no one really eats fruitcake. But I can prove otherwise. I was loading the CD player with Christmas music. Reno was tending the fireplace. So who ate the fruitcake?? Well, when I heard NO NO BAD DOG I knew we had a culprit. Mickey, dufus at heart, helped himself to the slice of fruitcake on the table. I can't really be mad at him because we provided the opportunity and then turned our backs. True, he should have known better. Maybe he did. Perhaps he had been waiting for this moment for all his born days.

Imagine this, liver and white pointer singing under his breath a happy little Jimmy Buffet tune. And there on the plate, like a gift to the Gods, lies the fruitcake he's been humming about. Could he? Nay, should he? Leave the plate unscathed?? Nahhh.

Such a moment may never, ever repeat itself. It was a Carpe Fruitcake moment in the canine world. And Mickey seized the fruitcake. Who could blame him, after all, there's a little bit of fruitcake in everyone of us.

Christmas Shopping

As a dog lover I should be easy to shop for. I'm wondering if I'm too old to write to Santa Claus with my wish list. On the off chance Santa still likes me here I go......

Dear Santa -

I have some tough requests and some easy ones. And before I get too far with those, yes, Santa, I've been very, very good this year. Well, when I wasn't being bad I was good.

The hard questions first. I'd like a forever home for Sidney. He's a good boy and will make someone a wonderful pet. Yes, we love him, but we love him enough to let him go to his own home someday.

I'd like Kobe to not pee inside all the time. He's an old boy, really, really old. So we forgive him when it happens. It sure would be nice if his last years were chock full of simple pleasures and very low pain for him.

I'd like one of those t-shirts from http://www.alpha-bitch.net/. It's about time I got the respect due me.

I'd like a Pointer Rescue calendar, or two, or three. Our previous foster dog Pete is in several of them, plus a whole lot of other gorgeous pointers. One for my office and for the kitchen would be terrific.

I'd like a years worth of poop scooping from one of the local Doo-doo Removal Services.

I'd like one more chance to kiss the two dogs of ours that crossed the bridge last year. I miss them so much.

I'd like 3-5 acres of fenced yard in the mountains, by a lake, near the ocean for the dogs to run on. Yes, I realize this might be a hard one to fit in your sleigh.

I'd like it if once a week the dogs would let me sleep in until 8am.

I'd like it if animals weren't ever starved, abused and homeless. Perhaps your gentle kindness will rub off on people and they will learn to treat animals better.

Now Santa, I realize I've asked for a lot, and that you are not God. But I also believe that you are a dog lover too. I don't think you don't eat all those cookies left for you - I'm sure you share them with the resident pets.

If, perchance, I'm too old for you to bring me anything - that's okay too. Sharing my life with the dogs is gift enough for me.

Merry Christmas Santa - Love, Nancy

Purses

Purses - They come in all shapes and sizes. I've had suede purses with fringe (ok, I was about 10 yrs old), beaded purses, leather purses, straw purses, summer bags, little tiny purses to take to the bar, fabric purses too. Is it just me, or are the purses in the stores today just hideous?????

There was a local news story about a woman who had 102 designer purses stolen from her home. How can she find 102 purses she likes and I can't find one???? Frankly, I've carried diaper bags smaller than the purses in fashion today. One could carry a 20 lb turkey in one of them. Or fit in a small pony. Or pack a tent in one. I have enough trouble finding my driver's license, my favorite lipstick and my debit card in the purse I have. If I had one that could fit in a German tank I'd never make it through a check out line.

I want a breezy, easy to carry purse. I don't want to have to hoist it over my shoulder like an anchor for an ocean going vessel. I'd like a nice soft leather purse. Not a slick and shiny pseudo animal skin pretending to be ugly leather. I'd like it to be functional, stylish and not the size of a small suitcase.

Ok, ok, ok......maybe I'm not runway material or fashion forward. I don't need a bag big enough to use to run away from home. It needs to be easy to handle, secure, and able to handle the weather. It needs to hold a check book, or two, and some odds and ends which may include a bag for doggie doodoo. Also a few Kleenex, some receipts I may never need or be able to find again. Some business cards, drivers license, 2-3 lipsticks, a couple pens and perhaps a cough drop. That's all I need and want...... And I'd like it to be cute as well as functional. I'm not asking too much, am I????

Gifts

It's that time of year - we tend to speed up, in an effort to get everything done, rather than slow down to enjoy the moment.

I'd like to challenge you. Why? Because I can. Because I will challenge myself in just the same way. A friend and I were discussing the holidays recently. How we feel less inclined to decorate, to buy scads of gifts etc, etc, etc. It seems the older I get the more difficult it is to give really meaningful gifts. And the less I am willing to give easy insignificant gifts. It is a gift giving dilemma during a commerce driven holiday. It is totally confusing. We are bombarded with sales and promotions, shell shocked by the current economic situation and it's Christmas time.

Even in tight times we can give the gift of our self. Sadly, it is easier to give the gift of a object or thing, than to give of our self.

So, this is our challenge: give a gift of your self. A gift of time, words of kindness, laughter. Write a love letter (to your spouse, your kids, a friend, heck, even perhaps your boss), write a thank you letter. Find the time and patience to sit down and share something with someone. Sure it's easier to give things, but do we really need more things?

And I ask this - let me know, if you will, this gift you give and the experience of doing it. Rather like the Gift of the Magi - we need to give in order to receive.

Snooze Alarms

From approximately 4am on, the quality of my sleep is dictated by snooze alarms. There are three of them. One is Reno's. You may have heard it. It's the one that could stop traffic on the Panama Canal. Then there is mine, which is my favorite country music radio station. Then there is the Kobe alarm. That one is merely the sound of him getting up from his bed. It tells me I'd better beat feet or Whizzer (aka Kobe) will be drizzling a puddle by the front door. Sorry, I forgot to mention this blog may be graphic. It doesn't matter what time Kobe wakes up, I hear him.

Normally, I don't hear Reno's alarm. Mostly, I think, because my mind knows I don't have to respond to it. This morning, his mind didn't respond to it either. Isn't it funny the levels of consciousness (or unconsciousness) one experiences during the blare of an alarm clock. The first few times he hit snooze I took it in stride. It was probably the 9th or 10th time that I became aware of the thoughts in my head. It was that if I heard that freakin alarm one more time I'd tell him I was going to rip the alarm cord from the wall and tie it around.....well, you get my gist. Thankfully, during sleep, or the valiant attempt to sleep, the body doesn't leap up to do what the mind suggests. It wouldn't have been pretty.

We had a wonderful discussion about this series of events this morning over coffee. He maintains the blaring alarm intrusions were all part of a bad dream. And that he doesn't remember hitting the snooze button over and over. I distinctly remember wanting to alter his consciousness and told him next time I won't hold back. He may think I'm joking, but I think not.

Love means (so they say) never having to say I'm Sorry. It does not mean you never have to say "I'm Sorry I Didn't Hear My Alarm". I promised to help him with that. Isn't he a lucky guy?

Fostering Thots

There comes a point in the process of fostering when a dog ceases to be a separate entity and is just one of the pack.

Perhaps it is a behavior thing and the dog just meshes with the resident dogs. There aren't any major behavior or health issues, he's just one of the gang. I think that's a good thing and what we want for our fosters.

I've done this enough to know it doesn't always work out this way. We had one that was male aggressive, so he presented a very stressful fostering experience. Others foster homes report chewing issues, resource guarding, puppies running amok, training issues. That just goes with the territory. Mine have all had a penchant for running with lingerie and chewing up socks, but still not a big deal.

This is not to say they were perfect in any way shape or form. Buddy was an escape artist, Kobe was homely and emaciated (until you saw how much heart he has), Bo had eye problems, Jackson was male aggressive, Pete and Sidney had never lived inside before. They are rather like children, you take what you get and love them anyway.

Sidney has been with us long enough that he is just one of the gang. Sometimes when you say "oh, he's a foster dog" you can explain away a plethora of issues that you are working on. Sometimes, like with Sidney, you forget he's not a permanent resident.

And we know, someone will be so lucky to adopt him and call him their own. Until that day comes he'll be just one of our pups, in our hearts, hogging our sofa.

Takes You Right Back

If I was to hazard a guess, it's been 27 years since I've baked cranberry bread. But there is a loaf in the oven right now.

My Grandmother used to bake this for us long ago - probably 27 yrs ago. It was a Grandma thing - not so much as a Mom thing. But some things take you right back and this was one of them.

At the store I work at we sell the cutest little ceramic loaf pans with holiday designs on them. When we are busy I go up and sack. I sack, rather than run a register, because there is not enough Prozac in the world to make a cashier out of me. But, baby, I can sack with the best of them. Plus, that gives me a chance to visit with our customers.

I once worked in a store where my work station was right outside the public rest rooms. When there was a line I got to chat with many people. I can initiate and hold a 2 minute conversation with anyone about anything. Who would guess those skills would come into play later in life? Suffice it to say I've sacked a bunch of these little pans and cooking/baking is a universal topic. Wrapping and the topic of baking naturally led me to cranberry bread which brought back thoughts of my Grandmother. And before the customer was out the door I knew I'd be buying fresh cranberries.

Funny how chance encounters, random comments and distant memories will take you right back. Funny how good that bread smells right now. I'll bet the taste will take me back too. Sometimes looking back can be a nurturing thing.

Post Turkey Day Thots

First of all - did you see a Pointer won Best In Show at the dog show on TV yesterday? I believe it's been about 25 years since the pointers kicked some doggy butt at this show. They were due for a win. Kudos to Holly for making this happen. Was she a beauty or what?

Secondly - wow, I finally got around to having my slice of pie. It was for breakfast this morning. We had two desserts to choose from last evening. Pumpkin pie, and chocolate dipped strawberries. The berries did it for me. Even though I was pleasantly full, I did have room for a couple strawberries.

As the cook - if I couldn't nibble during preparation I'd be in big trouble. I could also get dinner on the table a lot faster. But that is the best part of serving turkey dinner. A little nibble while the bird is being carved (ok, many little nibbles). A nibble of the dressing. Look someone has to taste it for quality control purposes. Licking the beaters after you mash the potatoes. Someone has to do this stuff, it might just as well be me. Then, of course, I nibble more during clean up. No wonder there was no room for pie! Even though the table was laden with yummy foods, it was nothing compared to the blessings that laden our hearts and lives.

We did get outside yesterday to hang our tree ornaments. I believe I have the worlds largest collection of second-hand slightly damaged commercial tree ornaments. From a distance one doesn't see the cracks, scuffs, holes or hot glue repairs on these ornaments. When you think about it, who doesn't have some cracks, scuffs, or holes? Like the saying goes - "we are strongest in our broken places". These beauties were all destined for the pitch pile. Instead they have had some TLC and hang under the canopy of the tree in our front yard. Eventually the tree will have lights on it. Pretty cool.

We did take down our Halloween flag and put up our Christmas flag. Yes, I know I still have a pumpkin on the front porch. It's days are numbered, but dang I still like it.

So many traditions at hand. So many blessings to enjoy. Dogs, dinner, graces, ornaments, signs of the seasons. Life is good.

You Only Live Once

I can say this with absolute certainty. I would not have made it as a pioneer woman. My scrawny decaying carcass would be found belly glued to the ground paralysed with fear right outside of town. So perhaps this gives you the idea that I opt for safety over danger every chance I get. Cautious, careful, not exactly risk taking. So we know I'm not the female version of Indiana Jones.

But - and there is always a but......you only live once. I had the opportunity yesterday, while decorating at the museum (which originally was a railroad station), to go up to the attic. Now, I don't really have any fond memories of attics in my life experience. There was that attic at home. Mom used to have to really, really nag my Dad to go up there. Maybe he didn't like attics either. Attics are just ugly, dark, scary crawl spaces you store stuff you don't need, but can't part with.

So, did I want to go up in an attic? Here is where we apply the "you only live once" motto. So I said yes. Distance from said museum floor to ceiling is 45'. Yes, 45 feet. And the attic is on top of that. Hmmmmm, no elevator either. There were two normal flights of steps. Not so bad I could handle that. The rest of the way up was nearly straight up on what was basically ladders. I got part way up and said....I don't think I can do this. Granted I had lots of encouragement that said yes I could. The next flight involved more cursing and yet more encouragement. The only reason I didn't turn back was because I'd have to go down alone - and that didn't sound like anything I could do either. Yes, I made it up to the top, to the crawl space of catwalks over the ceiling. I wasn't so thrilled with that area either. But, in retrospect, it was pretty cool. We even went one flight further which gave us access to the roof. I viewed the roof and the spectacular view of the city from the safety of the ladder. I didn't want to risk letting go of the death grip I had on the ladder. Again this would be a good time to say thanks to my coworkers who kept me going. It was pretty awesome.

Going down was easier, mostly I think because each step meant if I fell it was a shorter distance than before. And let me tell you, today my thigh's are a tad bit sore from that climb. All in all, I'm delighted I applied the "you only live once" motto. Life offers amazing opportunities, and attics can be one of them.

Thanks Giving

Thanks Giving - Response Ability - Human Nature - Animal Magnetism - Mother Nature - Mutual Funds

What do all these words have in common? Or what if we just mix them up? Mutual Giving, Thanks ability, Giving Nature, Mother Ability. A mishmash of words rambling through my head, or perhaps I've been hitting the sauce already today. I think not.

But, I do think that we are mutually responsible to give thanks for our ability to respond to humans, mother nature, and animals. We are uniquely funded to feel grateful. On this day we celebrate just that.

But I challenge you to find your gratitude every day. Day in day out, when it's a bad day when it's a good day. I urge you to respond, to reach out, to open up. Nurture, foster, listen, learn. And laugh, don't forget the laughter. Do all this and surely love will follow.

Juggling...... Thank You Very Much

I may not know how to juggle, but I gave it my best shot today.

I had made a batch of satin balls for Sidney. Satin balls are high calorie meat balls full of eggs, oat meal, hamburger, cream cheese, milk, peanut butter, and wheat germ. If that doesn't help a dog put on weight I don't know what will.

So.......I have a pan of satin balls, about 24 or so, that I am moving from the garage freezer to the kitchen freezer. I open the door, hit the edge of the pan on the corner of the freezer door and find myself juggling 24 meat balls. I'm thinking, if these hit the floor all four dogs will think the heavens opened up just for them! The pan hangs precipitously, almost sliding to the point of no return, I'm reaching as far as I can the other way towards the counter trying to grab the other cookie sheet to catch them if they fall. It was a moment worthy of Carol Burnett. I snag the other pan, clap it underneath, securing the meat balls in the equivalent of a cookie sheet sandwich. Phhfeewww - feeding frenzy narrowly averted.

Now, the dogs might not find that breathtaking save to be worth a rats pa toot. But in the realm of close calls it was a worthy rescue. I'm thankful I could do that. Just as I am thankful for the dogs, for the opportunity to foster, for the roof over our heads and the food on our table.

I'm thankful for you who read my blogs and share my life. I'm thankful that all those years ago I bought a little ball of lab fur named Abby. She began this journey into dogs, and the dream to save just one. And yes, I'm thankful it didn't rain meatballs today. Although it would have been great fodder for America's Funniest Home Video - Juggling Meatballs edition.

Glitter Glitter Everywhere

I know I've got glitter on my face. On my clothes, my shoes, my - well most everything. And no, I don't put it there intentionally. We joke it's be cause we have such glamorous jobs. But that is just a joke. Anyone who handles any product decorated with glitter ends up taking some home. It will stick to your skin for months - and yes, I do shower every day. Still the glitter sticks. I know I've been working too much when the dogs have glitter on them just from me loving up on them.

All that said, we began hanging ornaments on the tree at the Durham today. I admit to being guilty of something (besides wearing copious amounts of glitter). I tend to see the individual steps of the process and not the big picture. Day One - wire the ornaments, stop wiring to watch tree being hauled in, wire more ornaments. Day Two - hang ornaments, hang more ornaments, replace a few burnt out bulbs, hang more ornaments, have lunch, hang more ornaments. Day Three - hang more ornaments, look for holes what need more ornaments, hang more ornaments.

What I sometimes neglect to see is the beauty of the overall project. The majesty of it. The magic of it. Aren't we all like that to some degree? We complete the project, but fail to enjoy the process.

Tomorrow is Day Three. I plan to wear my glitter as a badge. A badge that says I helped make magic. I helped decorate a whopper of a tree. I'm going to rest my manager side, my designer side, my employee side. I'm going to let my delighted child side see the magic, to feel the joy, to celebrate the process. And she, this adorable child in me, will be sparkling with life that is brighter than any glitter made.

Big Tree's

This week finds me supervising decorating a large tree. Actually, when you add up all the people involved it takes about 30+ (if not more) people all year to pull this off. You see, it's not your basic Christmas tree.

By big tree's I mean really big trees. This year's tree, a 50' blue spruce is stunning. It was cut today from a residential home owner's yard. Transported across town on a flat bed truck, and hauled inside one of our local museum's. From there it was suspended by a cable from the ceiling, the trunk hanging in a large trough. As I write, it has been fire proofed and is being lit. Hundreds of lights will adorn it.

Tomorrow we begin the task of putting hundreds of ornaments (and a flock of cardinals) on it. A crew of about 12, using two cherry pickers will work all day Tuesday and Wednesday to finish the project. I generally figure after decorating this tree, any others I do this season will be a piece of cake.

I mention this project for a couple reasons. First of all this tree is as big as the heart of the season. It is a symbol of team work, dedication, celebration. It represents magic and history. It takes a noble tree that grew silently for years and puts it on display for the city to see. For years it housed birds and squirrels and graced the environment. Now it will hold lights, ornaments and hopes for the season.

Friday night there will be a ceremony to light this tree. At a time when we need hope and symbols of good things - I trust this tree will help fill the bill. Once it was just a seedling, now it holds the seeds of a joyful holiday season.

Toasty Warm

I don't know how they do it. Well, I do, but at the same time I don't. I'm referring to dogs curled up in a ball to sleep. They are so warm! Here it's November, I've got two layers on, it was 52 degrees today and I'm still chilly.

Ever stopped to snuggle with a dog all curled up? It's like a four legged hot water bottle. An electric blanket with legs, a bed buddy with fur. Plus they smell yummy too. It must be a toasty warm smell. Whatever it is, I dig it.

Sidney was all tucked into a ball when I paused to love up on him. It was awesome. I did recently treat myself to a hot stone massage. That too was phenomenal. But snuggling a toasty warm dog is right up there with a hot stone massage in my book.

If I could, in this order......have a good glass of wine (maybe two), a hot stone massage, and then melt in next to a warm sleepy dog I'd have it all. Well, I'd better invite Reno too, wouldn't want him to miss out on the ultimate bliss.

Oh yes, doggy heaven.

Thankful Is As Thankful Does

Okay, so maybe I'm paraphrasing Forest Gump. I don't think he'd mind.

Of the three pointers pulled from a rural Oklahoma this summer - two have found their forever homes. As I understand it, all three originated from a local breeder who resided very close to the shelter they ended up in. All three endured sweltering heat, and bitter cold in a metal, four run shelter.

Two went into foster care on the East Coast. Sidney stayed here in the Midwest. The other two have been adopted, and with Sidney, we trust it's just a matter of time. Time passes all to quickly, and all too slowly. We are always racing ahead. Or looking back. Sometimes simultaneously.

It's countdown to Thanksgiving week. Normally, I feed 20-25 of my siblings and extended family dinner. This year none of them will be attending - honestly, I've never given them food poisoning. For various and sundry reasons they aren't coming, and while part of me is sad, another part of me sees infinite possibilities here.

Our table will feed my four most favorite people in the world, and no doubt there will be 5 dogs and possibly a bearded dragon in the front room. We will all be able to sit down at the same time, at the same table.

It may take me all week to count my blessings. Thankful is a process, a life choice. Thankful is what allows us to open up to new things, good things, and find the beauty in old things, familiar things. Thankful is as thankful does.

And gratitude allows us to wait in peace for good things to unfold. Just like it did for the other two Oklahoma dogs - just like it will for Sidney.

Vet's

I love my veterinarian. I love all of them at the practice. They are good people. I love when my vet sits down on the floor to examine my dog.

I have a few requests though. I think, since I am a really regular client, that when I walk in it should be like the scene from Cheer's when Norm walks in the bar......they should all pause and say "Nancy!" and then carry on.

I think there should be a handicapped parking space just for clients with old handicapped dogs as well as the handicapped clients.

I think there should be a punch card for people in rescue who bring animals in for spays/neuters. I suggested this once at the front desk and they laughed at me. Imagine that.

I think a little rub off card giving you 10%, 25%, or 50% off that days services would be a hoot.

I think I should probably have an exam room bearing my name on it as the main benefactor.

I often wonder if they think I'm nuts, or if they like to see me coming. I wonder if I go a whole month without visiting (like this will ever happen) will they call to see if I'm okay? I wonder if I can trade my labor to pay my bill? So many options here!

I do miss that they don't do overnight emergency care anymore. I hate going to strangers who charge up the wazoo when you have an after hours emergency. You are vulnerable enough in that situation without the added expense.

Ahhh, yes. I have a special relationship with my vet's. God bless them. I believe I'll send them a copy of this blog - maybe that punch card will arrive with my Christmas card - wouldn't that be a happy event.

Note To Self

Don't you love those things that cause you to say - Note to Self - because sometimes the Self really needs a reminder (or two or three) about what we can, can't or just plain shouldn't do.

This mornings reminder is - Self (and I say that lovingly), what the hell were you thinking??? I gave Prince Kobe a bath this morning. Usually baths are done outdoors. But it was too cold and he really needed one. So, my independent, I can do it, not so intelligent self said no sweat pet, I can do this. And I did.

But the truth is - I just can't (and shouldn't!) lift 50 lbs of dog anymore. Just like I can't (and shouldn't) lift those 35 lb bags of dog food anymore. And yet I still do.

I lifted him in, bathed him, comforted him and then realized he's the one dog of mine that can't get out of the tub on his own. The others are all to willing to scramble out. Kobe is not willing or able to do that!! Fifty+ pounds of wet dog adds up. And my back is yelling at me because of it.

Of course, I realize a little later today I will be lifting him in and out of the truck as we visit the vet. It falls under the "you gotta do what you gotta do" for your beloved pets.

Of course, the Note To Self following all of this is - take two Advil, and a little ice on the back won't hurt either.......

A Pain In the Gas

I tried to fill up my truck with gas this morning. One wouldn't think it would be that difficult. After all, gas prices are down. It doesn't cost an arm and a leg, the dreaded sticker shock at the pump has subsided.

I practically danced into the station in anticipation of the $1.73 per gallon price. First pump I stopped at didn't want to play my game. The screen where you press the payment buttons had an error message that would not go away. The help button wouldn't provide any help. So I went to drive to the next set of pumps. That one had bags over the handles. No help there. I wish I could put bags over my handles..... So I pulled into the third row and begin pumping. Except it was pumping in slow motion. If it was pumping at all. It took over two minutes to pump 1/2 a gallon of gas. Crikey, didn't they know I was already late for work? Did the God's of gas pump karma have to frown on me today?

Frustrated I quit pumping, and of course, it would not give me a receipt. So I walked inside for my receipt for $1.20. I mentioned their pump issues and then drove to the next station down the road. There the pump did everything it should, except I pressed the wrong button and was pumping the $1.83 per gallon gas instead of the $1.73 per gallon gas. That would not do!

Why do you suppose it was such a pain in the gas today? Truthfully, I don't know. A lesson in patience? Maybe. A lesson in futility, definitely. Bad car-ma? Beats me. All told I got about 6 gallons of gas. Maybe tomorrow I'll try again. Like they say if at first you don't succeed. Try, try again. Gas should not be this tough.

Cookies From Heaven

It's Tuesday - which means I have to clean up the yard. You might call it poo-doo day. So many interesting things to take in while on poo-doo.

It was a frozen poo-doo day, with Fall well in hand. The sun was out, thankfully. The yard dry, mercifully. The wind was biting though. The bald cypress is almost completely bald. A few pansies who made it through the summer heat are putting out their last hurrah.

On windy days my yard collects many things. All the trash cans from the circle usually, plus papers, bags and other silly things. Just the other day a small ghost blew in from someones Halloween decorations. I try to pick up odds and ends to keep the dogs from doing it for me.

Today must have been a red letter day for Sidney. I was scooping poo and looked up to see Sidney snarf something up and start chowing it. I immediately checked into it. And truthfully, it must be the day the heavens will open up and rain cookies from on high. Because Sidney was chowing on a sugar cookie with M&M's. Helloooo? Where do cookies like this come from? So many thoughts blew through my mind. How did it get there? Why couldn't it be a cookie without any chocolate in it? Will the cookie make him sick? Were there more? Will there be a dozen with macadamia nuts with my name on them? Who has the milk?

Now I know it's unlikely it fell from the sky. Probably it means someone cut through my yard. Do I mind they cut through my yard - yep. What kind of person could be be so careless to lose a cookie along the way? Why couldn't it have been an Omaha Steaks truck with the back door open? No, no, I get a random trespasser with loose cookies.

Sidney didn't mind at all. He likes it here. A warm crate, roof over the head, loving hands to pet him.....and cookies falling from the sky. Life is good.

Good Dog Mom - Bad Dog Mom

Let me preface this with - honestly, we weren't drinking, honestly. Maybe we should have been.

I try to be a good dog Mom. However, once in a while I do mess up. Proof that I am human. Also I want you to know sometimes I am embarrassed to share some of the things I do share in blogs. But I figure, if I struggle with it, someone else might too. If I flounder and blunder - I'm guessing I'm not alone. If I'm clueless - well, you get my drift.

Here is the deal. We were going out Saturday evening. Reno opened the car door for me and turned to go to his side of the car. And he sees that we forgot to let Maddie inside. Yikes, we don't usually do that. So he puts her inside only to find I'd forgotten to crate Sidney on my way out. Or, he had forgotten to crate Sidney on his way out - but I digress. So Maddie is in, Sidney is crated...out we go.

We arrive home 2 1/2 hours later and low and behold we discover Kobe was outside too!! Holy crap batman - how did we do that? And dang - did I/we feel horrible. We never leave dogs out when we are not home, at least not intentionally! Plus it was cold, making me feel extra guilty.

Suffice it to say we will be counting noses more carefully before going out. And, Kobe? He's just fine. I'm sure he barked rather indignantly at the door off and on all of those hours he was out alone. Just as I am certain his bed by the register vent in our bedroom was a sight for sore eyes and cold paws that night. He's forgiven me for leaving him out - and I've learned a valuable lesson. Count those noses.

So Thankful

We are so thankful this year we are having three thanksgiving dinners. Proof yet again, I may be certifiable.

The first was the beginning of this month when all of Reno's family was in town. How could we not prepare one then? The second one is a another tradition - having my son and his college friends over for a turkey dinner before semester breaks and they all head home for Thanksgiving with their families. Maybe I just like feeding college students. Is there a more appreciative bunch of eaters in the world? I don't think so. Plus one of the roommates insists I make the best gravy in the whole world. Right up there with his Grandmother's. Pretty heady compliment there I tell you. We are preparing that feast today. This will be the last year I'll be able to do this dinner. My son will be done with classes in December and walking for his diploma in May with his two roommates. My only regret is I didn't begin this tradition their freshman year.

The third dinner will be on Thanksgiving proper. We'll feed my family of origin. I'm wondering if I'll be turkey'd out by then.

Today's feast is already easier than the first. For example the fridge door has been fixed which eliminates the anxiety of it perhaps coming off in my hand whenever I'd cautiously open it. The turkey I bought is an uncooked one - amen to that. Thus, I will have a place for stuffing. So that surprise won't completely freak me like the last turkey did. Always a good thing not to freak out the cook.

Maybe by the last dinner I'll be ready to try a complete new menu for Thanksgiving day. While I love the traditional recipes, I also enjoy trying new ones. I could go completely wild, but that might freak out the guests.

If it sounds like a lot of cooking - you are right. But I love feeding people. And all the blessings we have, big and little, two footed and four footed, family and friends, blessings of old and new ones on the horizon give us reason to give thanks. Some people would drink to that - I believe I'll cook.

Dog Tags

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. But, the way to my heart has always been through my dogs.... (well, and diamonds). So any gift for my dogs is a gift of love.

A girl friend of mine gave me an excellent gift - for the dogs of course. And what better gift for a pet than an I.D. tag. This version is a bit unusual. It does not have the dogs name, address or phone number on it. It provides identification of another kind.

Her wisdom says it all. I now have four heart shaped (Husker Red, of course) tags for the dogs that say "I Rescued A Human".

Amen to that concept. She has often said her dog did the rescuing and not the other way around. Every time they greet us at the door, snuggle with us at night, wag their tail in joy, love us unconditionally, dance with pleasure for their food - they rescue us again.

We may think they are dependent on us, but in fact it is the other way around. How awesome to have been rescued in this way. How perfect to give the honor back to them by way of these I.D. tags.

Crabby Pants

Since owning it is the first step, let me stand and say I have my crabby pants on. It doesn't happen very often. And if I wasn't already crabby, being crabby would really P!ss me off.

What really torques me off is when I'm crabby and can't quite put my finger on what set it off. I know the actions involved, but my reactions are go way back to some other incident. Except I can't pin down the other incident. Crabby is a chain reaction sort of thing.

Add to this outbreak of crabbiness the need to dress for a funeral. No matter what you put on when you are crabby - it's just not going to look right. Not that it really matters what I wear to a sad event. As long as it's clean and appropriate it will be fine. But I guess I'm angry that my closet doesn't present more options today. Stupid closet.

Crabby is an out of control feeling - and really, who digs that feeling? I believe that I'll take a deep breath. Close my eyes.....inhale......exhale.....and release some of that crabbiness. When it comes to the big picture, this little fit of irritation doesn't even make the radar. I'm going to take off my crabby pants now...... thanks for sharing my rant.

Picking It Up

There is a lot to be said about dog poop. For one, it's a stinky subject. And, shoveling it is definitely not my favorite thing to do. It is part and parcel, or would that be part and pile, of owning pets. Poop happens - consistently.

Some times of the year it's easier clean up. Oh.......... this might be a good time to say, if you are offended by discussions such as this, it might be a good time to see if you have any pertinent Spam in your junk mail box begging for your attention.

As I was saying, some times of the year it's easier to clean up. I love it when the sun bakes it (yes, I'm really admitting this) so it is easy to scoop up. Wet weather makes the process even less appealing. Face it, no one likes soggy poop. All these random thots wandered through my mind as I scooped recycled dog food this morning. Mind you, we had 1 1/2 inches of rain this week.

What some people don't realize is how visually taxing yard clean up can be this time of year. My eyes are exhausted! There are literally a zillion leaves in the yard, in various colors and stages of decay. A brown leaf, curling and dying, can look more like poop that one might imagine. I have a pattern I follow to scan the yard for piles. Yes, I am crazy - no need to remind me. All the fallen leaves definitely clutter the visual poop pattern as I walk the yard. Like radar in an air show - the pattern was really full.

If nothing else, perhaps this blog will give you new respect for those who make their living cleaning up dog do-do. It's not the no brainer job we think it is. When I hit the lottery, perhaps I'll hire one of those companies. Until then, I'll keep picking it up and sharing my thoughts with you.

Poop happens. Without poop, there would be no dogs. Without dogs, life would stink like a really big pile of you-know-what.