GRILLING TIME

Last fall I put my much maligned and rusted grill out on the curb for the trash.

The other day I decided I had to have a new grill, and since Menard's was having a grand opening I went and picked up (well it weighs 85 pounds. I didn't actually pick it up,other people did.) a new gas grill, a little fancier than the one I had and hopefully with an ignition that worked. I really hate lighting propane with a match
(photo from google)

The grill is right outside the back door. Everything was great. Mr.Husband put the whole thing together while I stayed far away. Everything was fine until we came to the nice rubber hose that carries the gas from the cannister to the ignition and Mr.Husband and I stood  and stared at it in horror , at exactly the kind of thing that the almost a year old puppy Doc LOVES TO CHEW.

       (I would NEVER chew a garden hose.Look what I found!)

He is a hose dog.
He chewed our garden hose into pieces. Little pieces. This new hose, was not a garden hose, and the consequences of his chewing it were enormous. (kaboom). (He would only do it once.)

Consequently the grill now stands proudly behind an old ex-pen. Like many things in our home, it looks a little weird, but we sleep better.

So now I am grilling everything. We had burgers the other day and chicken.(a little dry).

The dogs stay in the house while I am cooking. (No, hubbie does not cook. Or Grill. That the man of the house always grills is a myth.)

The garden hose, which we had to buy since ours was in chunks all over the yard, is in one of those plastic hose containers and that, being plastic and another chewable, is in a metal dog crate.

(If you have too many crates and want ideas on how to utilize them, ask me.)

It's going to be a bit awkward but perhaps the hose will make it through the summer.

BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

                                Me? I would NEVER!

THE HAIRCUT 2

No photos.
Not because the hair is awful, but because I hate having my photo taken.
I got in and lovely Kelly laughed, said that when the phone rang that early she thought "I'll bet that's Beverly..."
She was laughing when I got there.
She took her scissors and went to work, cut it all, didn't yell at me for taking the stripping blade from my dog tack and doing the bangs myself the night before.
And when she got done, it was GREAT! It was exactly as I wanted. It looked as if I had stuck my head in a blender. This is precisely the effect I work for.

 

                     Beaver tree, along the Mississippii river.

The less I have to do with my hair the happier I am. My idea is that one should not have to spend more than maybe three minutes a day playing with your hair.
I use a brush, the gel, and my hands. Done.

I grew up with looong, looong, loong hair. As a child I had long braids. Once my Mother cut it and had a perm done and i looked like a poodle, and even she accepted that this was true.
As a teenager I cut it all off very short (about 1") It was right after
Jean Seberg (remember her?) played in the movie  "BREATHLESS" and everyone was getting their heads shorn

Check the hair. My Mother was crushed. She wanted a girl. She got me.

 

Then I let my hair grow when I got into High school. And grow. And grow. It was down to my ...uh...it was very long. And it stayed that way a long time.

This was High School and beginning College, and my Father was frantic to have me cut it. Only Beatniks had long hair. His own daughter, out of sight at school, was wearing not only long hair but solid black: thigh-high lace-up Capezio black boots, black jeans, black turtlenecks and a cape that I had made for me.

I made a small fortune renting out my Saks, CPS and Marshall Field's wardrobe to the freshmen pledges on the floor.

 

I posed nude for a series of photographs done by a woman I knew. she assured me no one would ever see them because no one came to the exhibits.

Three weeks later my brother, in Medical School there, called me:

 

"Nice photos" he said. I made him promise and he did. My parents never knew.

 

I'm not sure when i cut my hair again. It may have been when I began working with special ed kids. It might have been when I began working with children in a state mental institution. It might have been when I began working for my Vet. I really don't remember,but it was long for my daughter's wedding.

 

During the time I worked at the state mental facility. The kids grabbed my long hair,so I cut it.

This was not the photo I wanted but it won't let me delete it. This is our first Basset,Warf.

 

This was my hair. It got better and longer and then I cut it all off and spiked it and I have never looked back. It is now silver and coarse and does not look good long. It looks stringy.  It's too bad, I loved my long, dark hair. Now I have big, dark dogs instead.

 

THE HAIRCUT

NO PHOTOS

(At least not of the hair.)

Yesterday I got my haircut and foiled with the hairdresser I have had for many years, since my original one had a near fatal aneurysm and had to stop cutting hair.
About every 6 months I go get my hair cut when I am sick of the white cloud on my head.
I always get the same cut: about an inch long all over and spikey.

This time.
Ohhh, this time I picked a photo out of a magazine of a different haircut and took it with. It required a much different look. Never mind that the woman in the photo was maybe 19yrs old and weighed 37 pounds. ("MAYBE if I get MY hair cut like that, I will look like her!!")  I won't admit to that line of thinking but I bet it was in there someplace.

And I decided to have it foiled.
I was thinking of six or seven broad dark stripes...and then this fabulous cut.

That was last night.
*********************************************************

This morning at 8:30 I called the hairdresser and left a frantic message: I have to have you whack this off! It isn't me. I look like Hans Brinker in the THE SILVER SKATE! (Nevermind that she is far too young to have ever heard of Hans Brinker.)

So I have an appointment in awhile and I dutifully washed the goop that was holding it together out and now I REALLY look like Hans Brinker.

No photos of the hair. Absolutely not. I am bad enough just normally there is no way I am sharing a bad-decision haircut.

Here are some others to relieve the monotony of my blather:

The Spiderwort in my garden that came from our house in Des moines.

 

                                                     the way that Llewis

                                                                runs.

Conley discovering that somewhere someone is grilling outside.

                                      ten months old.

EARLY RISING

Sometimes I could sleep for hours longer than I do and other times I need no sleep at all.
1:30 a.m.
It is hot and stuffy. I have a fan on but it is still hot and stuffy. I wake up because Doc is shuffling around in his crate, shoving the pad to one side so he can sleep on the cool plastic and wear the hair off his hock and the inside of one back leg.

(Warning: Photos have no relevance to the text of the blog at all.)

So I thought I would see if he would settle down loose in the room.I put up the gate and opened the crate and he stepped out.
Now, Doc will not get on the bed. I don't know why, but he won't.
He wanted to cuddle.
He wanted to sit in my lap.
He did not want to get on the bed.

I put him away and let Conley out who climbed instantly onto the bed and took my back and was asleep before I had laid down.

 

I turned out the light, closed my eyes and..................

 

I turned on the light and sat up.

Clearly, I was not destined to go back to sleep. Whatever important, massive problem-solving solution had been spinning in my brain 45 minutes earlier had circled the drain and vanished. I was stuck, wide awake.

 

 

I let Doc out of his crate again and gave him a chewie (Made in America unlike every single one at PETSMUCK WHICH COME FROM CHINA--hear me!!)

I found some really cool articles inthe NYTimes that I actually had time to read since it was 2 in the morning. Sustainable farming with horses, was my favorite.

I read the police blotter for town, not usually terrifying but getting worse. Three gunshots reports. Lots of drugs. Adults-- 30 yrs old dealing drugs, what a waste.
I bought a trash book off Amazon (nevermind it has dogs in it.)
I looked at beads.

Doc chewed and Conley slept and along about 9a.m. I will fall into a
stupor. What a day it's going to be.

                           (As long as I get breakfast....)

PHOTOGRAPHS,PHOTOGRAPHERS, SNAPSHOT TAKERS

I have a really nice hand-me-down Canon eos REBEL. There is a zoom lens that attaches and/or I can photograph a close up of a ladybug.
For years, I considered myself a fair to middling amateur photographer.

I don't know how old I was when I got my Brownie camera. The first photo I ever took was of my mother standing to the side of our green, two-tone Chevvy, wearing a coat and a plaid hat made for her by Nina Neal. Every Lady must have a Milliner,you know.
It is the one and only photo in that little yellow book of Kodak Prints.

It was the first and almost the last human being I photographed. From then on the books filled with dogs, horses, and other dogs and other horses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you notice a pattern? Search tho you may for our family album, you are destined to fail. Page after page after page, album after album, full of dogs, dog shows, and horses, kitties, horse shows, and the rare humanoid family member. A daughter here, a son there (holding a dog) my Brother (holding a dog) my husband (festooned with dogs....

 

But at the Nationals I saw that what I do is whimisical snapshooting,not photography.

What Joe Roundy does is PHOTOGRAPHY. He understands that camera, and he knows about lighting and speeds and white balance. 

 

I know it all exists. So do Wolverines, but I have never seen one.

Mathematics exists, but on some other planet. I do not understand my camera. It works independently of me. Now and then out of 500 snaps, I get a good photograph, but there is aworld of difference bewteen what I do and what Joe Roundy does. I wish he had gotten some shots of Doc at the Nationals: mine were lousy.

 

                  One of my better efforts. It was all accidental.

Another accidentally good photo

 

One of my all-time favorites, but a snapshot, not a photograph.

Mitchell was an amazing study.

 

 

...and so I said to her, well if THAT'S the way you're going to be,

I'll just have Club without you next time!!

MORE AT THE NATIONALS

We are home, of course.
Back in the groove, Doc spending all day outside with Llewis. Today is Tuesday and so we will be going to the Gallery. I need to put my jewelry back in place.

This first morning we were at the Nationals they had Agility. My problem with these photos is that, other than Lynn Sharkey, I don't know who people were.

The A Frame

 

The weave poles

 

Almost all the dogs were enthusiastic to a fault, but now and again there would be a "thinker":

 

You know, this looks pretty high to me. Are you sure?

 

WOW! I can really see a long ways from here! I bet that's my Van over there with my bed and chewies in it....

I have never liked the weave poles. Tell me again why I need to do this....

 

Then the sky clouded up and I got cold and because it took me forever to get from point A to point B, I began the long limp back to the hotel.

 

Later on that morning, Doc went off with Lisa Leffingwell to get ready to show.

 

 

That's my boy.

 

DOC AT THE NATIONALS

We are at the Nationals in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. I just had Doc out for a walk and was informed that others are finding ticks on their dogs that have been Frontlined,as has Doc. Hmmmm....

Weather has been a mix of good and ugly.
Photographs are few and far between, the light in the Ballroom is hideous even under the best circumstances.

Doc has been fabulous. Thursday he won 2nd place in 9-12 puppydog Sweeps, and Friday he won 2ndplace in 9-12 puppydogs, both times handled by Lisa Leffingwell, his breeder.

Doc being letter perfect for Lisa in 9-12 Sweeps

He was so good. I was blown away.

Doc in Sweeps. The camera seemed to be shakey...

Couldn't have been my nerves.

 

I did get some decent shots of Lynn Sharkey's dog in Agility-- about the only good shots I have for the entire weekend:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What has BabyDoc learned from this experience?

 

1. Some bitches smell better than others and it is a smell he knows he should understand because it makes his teeth chatter,

but he cannot quite make out what it is. The Big Males seem quite agitated about this smell.

He is hoping someone will explain it to him.

 

2. Despite his age (9mos) he is really a BIG BOY and can be relied upon to protect me when someone walks past in the hallways. No more of the excited puppy yaps, these are BIGBOY barks.

 

3. There is some reason that BIGBOYS lift their legs. He is not sure why they do this or what the benefit is, but apparently in order to be a BIGBOY he has to do it, too, so he does. He is a little rocky but knows that soon he will be lifting with the best of them.

 

4. Draggin MomPerson and her cane down the stairs is frowned upon.

 

5.Laying flat in the elevator does not make it stop and for some reason makes other people in the elevator laugh. No more laying flat trying to make it stop.BIGBOYS stand up and take it.

 

6.Even though he is now Officially a BIGBOY, there are many males who are definitely BIGGERBOYS, and it is unwise to stare or otherwise seem to be challenging them especially when one comes nose to nose upon opening a door.

 

A NONY MOUSE

Because of an unprecedented amount of spam I am no longer going to read anonymous comments  but will delete them. Please, if you have something to say I want to hear it, but sign with a name. It doesn't have to be your own. If Queen Victoria sends me a comment I will read it, but if ANONYMOUS does, it goes directly into the trash. Sorry.

GETTING READY

Tomorrow Doc and I leave for the Belgian Nationals. Boy, it's been a long time!
I have made special arrangements with his Groomer to meet us at 6:30 in the morning to get him groomed, and he's a mess! Meanwhile, while Doc is getting primped, I will come home, pick up Nigel and deliver him for boarding.
And then.
I load the Van.

              Remember this? This is my entry in the Nationals.
                   What do you think? Has he got a chance?

I have to load the Van tomorrow. I cannot leave all my stuff  in it overnight. Because I am also selling jewelry, I have all that to take. Not only the jewelry itself but tools in case something needs to be fixed or shortened.

         Ribbons for the Belgian pendants by Peggy Hamlin.

                                  Several necklaces

                 Some bracelets (This is one of my favorites.)

And then of course is the dog and all his Stuff: brushes, nail clippers, show leads and collars, bait (in a cooler): the new dryer (Oh what an unpleasant surprise for the boy) the potions and magic that go into making him look even more handsome than usual.

From this

 

 

 

To something resembling a show dog.

And of course, the worst blow for Doc is that we are leaving behind his buddy, his pal, his protector, his "sheep" that he herds.....

 

 

Sweet (usually) Tolerant (often) happy Llewis. Who stays at home with Conley and John. The three boys.

 

And we will be off, in search of the elusive points. Our hearts in our throats and our sweaty palms, we will watch someone else show Doc,much better than I ever could and maybe, just maybe, Doc will learn that it's ok to poop while on a leash.....

 

Off we go.

SPRING?

Is it?
Is it here?
My lilies are up. The violets and dandelions are out. The trees have leaves and best of all, I have the windows open.

"Where're those damn dogs?"

 

The Sandhills came through several weeks ago.

 

Art studios are starting to open.

 

Flowers

 

 

 

 

We are sitting in the sun. It is spring.