THE TROUBLE WITH MOTHER NATURE

When my son was one he quit eating meat.
Rather than get into one of those no-win power struggles with him, I looked for alternate sources of protein. Peanut Butter. Cheese. Stuff like that.

Peanut butter is full of sugar, which makes it really yummy. Cheese is often not cheese but "processed cheese food". Yuk. So I joined the new and innovative South Suburban Food Co-op.

Every week I called people and got their orders. In turn, I had access to high quality organic and locally grown produce. It was great. And then the kids got bigger,and I went to work, and they went to school, and all their lives, and my husband and I went on with ours and somehow, the food co-op dropped out of our lives for a really, really, really long time. I knew they were still around.

And then, they moved into a storefront around the corner from the Gallery where I play around, and BINGO they were back in my life.

(I'm getting to the point, honest.)

So I went in a couple of times but they're really pricey unless you belong and if you belong you have to donate time and I know how that goes because the Gallery is a co-op and I can print on three fingers the names of the people who actually CONTRIBUTE time without being dragged screaming and crying into the building.

But you know..... I just kinda....went in one day to get some crackers because I was at the Gallery and felt sick, and....I joined the Food Co-op.
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photo by Bradley Cross

This is the Ann Arbor Art Fair some year recently. Maybe last year. I did not go but the photo will explain to you WHY I did not go, why I no longer participate in outdoor festivities involving tents, art, food or me.

I have lost, over the years that I was doing art fairs, 4 tents. One did not belong to me, but had been loaned to me and it was totally destroyed one night when the water from a tornadic storm piled up in the top and collapsed the tent, crushing the aluminum legs like someone had stepped on a spider.

One tent blew away in Evanston, Illinois.

One tent had a hole ripped in the apex of the roof by a "freak" wind.

One just gave up, like I did.

One art fair I did in May in Illinois I nearly froze to death. It rained all day and the wind blew, and my daughter's car got a flat. My daughter has no temper at all, she is almost impossible to annoy to the point of real, serious anger, but she slogged back through that cold and watery parking lot swearing like a sailor, mad as I have ever seen her, having discovered her flat tire.

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Ok. So today I got up at 4, had the dogs fed by 5, settled in again by 6. Took a shower, thought I'd ride my bike to the Farmer's Market and put in my 5 hours for the month.

Then I looked at the sky.

Ok, so I don't ride the bike.

Look at the above photo again. That is pretty much what the day was like, sitting outside under a tent with no walls in the pouring rain with the wind coming from my back, soaked feet and no socks. Maybe 3 people stopped who didn't already belong to the Food Co-op. All we were supposed to do was offer a sample (they all got soggy) a brochure (limp and spottled with rain) and directions to the actual storefront (down the street and around the corner).

By 10:30 I was terminally cold. My core Temp had probably dropped to about 32 degrees. My feet (my fault I know, shoulda wore my Muck Boots) were blocks of ice. The back of my neck was stiff, sore, cold, annoyed....I  had to pee desperately, the rain working with my BP meds to make me suddenly....nevermind.

I was the only one there who had ever sat out like this before. The others were neophytes at what weather can do to you when you are sitting still.  They were unaware, originally, that they needed weights on the tent, altho we really didn't as it turned out.

I kept thinking

Didn't I quit doing this for just this reason???

We hauled stuff back at 10:45. A solid meal, two glasses of wine, socks and fuzzy slippers later, I am starting to warm up.

Ask me how soon I am doing this again....

SATURDAY WITH CESAR MILLAN (Not for real)

Saturday Natl Geo channel ran a whole day of nothing but Cesar Millan, the "Dog whisperer"--who in the past I have disliked. Not the man but his methods. I watched off and on most of the day, not having had the channel before so I had only read of him and read his book, not seen him. He is, it is true, very charismatic, and he has a nice sense of humor and an ego as big as all outdoors. But that's ok, he needs that ego to do what he does and do it well, and he does it well.

                         This is MY couch. Go sit in that chair over there.


And as I watched I began to get a feel for what happens with him. He understands intuitively that the dogs MUST BELIEVE that he means what he says. That when he body blocks them and puts out his hand, he really means it. And they understand the language not because he hisses at them, but because like any good trainer, he is absolutely, 100%, completely consistent.

And I also noticed something that I learned working for the Vet. When you are handling fractious dogs, or upset or excited dogs, you must FOCUS entirely on that dog and be aware of every move, every nuance of his behavior and body language. Let your concentration waver, and you get bitten. Millan rarely allows his attention to wander and when he does, he has trouble.

            "Come?" What does that mean? Come out here and get me.

He may be speaking into the camera, but his eyes are often on the dog, or sliding toward the dog every few seconds. It only take a moment for a frustrated or angry dog to detect that you have weakened. It's what they do. It is hardwired in them to notice minute changes in prey, or an enemy, or a rival, whichever one you happen to be at that moment.

So Millan combines total consistency with something that cannot be taught: timing.
My timing in dog training has a lag to it that is deadly. He is right on target probably because he is watching more carefully, or is much better at it. Every GOOD trainer has better timing than you do as far as rewards and corrections go. The dog must understand what behavior is being corrected and what the right behavior is. It doesn't help if you take one away and offer no substitute.
This I understand intellectually, but my mind has trouble getting the correction going fast enough. My big dogs are trained but sloppy.The Bassets continue to pretty much do their own thing and the few really really annoying things they do they continue to do because I do not correct them consistently. Conley is the worst, by far, constantly challenging me in sweet, Bassety, passive-aggressive ways for ownership of the house.

YOU! iN THE HOUSE! open this door right now. Want to see what I did to the screen? BWAAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I found myself kind of liking the guy. If he just didn't make some of the physical moves look so easy, as if anyone can do them. Despite the disclaimer about consulting a Pro and not doing what you see Cesar do, it is tempting to think that your aggressive, resource-guarding, dominant intact male  is going to respond to you throwing him on his side and holding him there, the way he would if an Alpha male with muscle tone did it.

           Check out that fang before you try an Alpha roll on your dog.

FUN AT FIVE A.M.

It is about 5. It is not quite light but MNature is working on it. The dogs have eaten and Llewis wants out. I have forgotten that Conley is still in his crate and of course, Nigel is stuck.

 

I flip on the back light, open the door for Llewis who steps out just as a garbage bag with mouldy grass (my decorative grass from the front) begins to move down the sidewalk at a walking pace. Attached to the front of it is a large probably female possum. I am not sure whether her tail is caught or a leg, but she and the bag shuffle down the sidewalk, Llewis following curiously behind a few paces back, making no effort to catch up, obviously puzzled, not willing to let it go but unsure about whether this was something he wanted to tangle with. I followed behind Llewis, calling Llewis softly, "Llewis Llewis come get a treat baby, TREAT TREAT, llewis..." The possum is headed for the sheds that abut Sara's property. As Possum reaches the shed, Llewis turns back and comes with me into the house. Wow, enough excitement for HIM!

 

 

I get a leash and the flashlight (once I had to carry a baby possum by the tail and drop it over the fence, not gonna do THAT to an adult) and go out and make a cursory check around the sheds-- no possum. I have seen them go over the 6ft fence so I know she can, and I have seen them go under it, through holes you would think would make a snake shriek, with no problem so I assume she is in Sara's yard.

 

I come back and let the dogs out-- Conley now included, and I am laughing about the sight it must have been---possum and bag, dog, old lady---when the barking starts.

It is a low-key, early-morning curious bark. A WTF? bark. Oh shit, I missed the possum.

I went out and called the dogs in and they came. Apparently hunting genes are not high on their list from the genetic pool. (Their Mother would be appalled).

I go back out and sure enough, the rather large possum is between a piece of wood and the shed, little beady eyeballs fixed on me with no affect whatsoever.

I left her there.She'll leave altho I bet she has a nest back there someplace. (I have also found children Possums IN the sheds.) (Possum Day Care?)

(Photo from Google)

 

Possums are not my favorite critters even though I adored Walt Kelly's "Pogo" comic strip. Pogo really wasn't much like the Possums I have met in the backyard, and there have been a few.

 

The dogs seemed willing to leave the Possum pretty much alone. I am not sure what Conley would do if he caught it out, in the middle of the yard. Of all the dogs and all the Possums I have only had two dogs who really WANTED it, one was Zelda altho she learned fast (from me) to back off: and probably either Belgian when young and, most notably, Nigel. Nigel would have never come in, never quit harrassing the Possum. I would have had to carry him in bodily, snarking and growling threats. But.

Not this time. He slept through it all.

 

I don't know where the Possum is. I am giving her plenty of time to amble off to another yard.

I have a sign on the back door POSSUM IN YARD: DOGS STAY IN in case I am in the bathroom and John gets up and decides to let them out.

They're napping.

It's been a harrowing morning.....

THE DEVIL'S SPAWN

Yesterday was kind of a bad day. I was feeling very down about losing Cooper, and I was impatient about not knowing when a puppy would be available. Nigel was very active which meant up and down off the bed and wanting to go outside. My leg was bothering me from falling off the bicycle. It was raining. It was grey.
I called my sister=in-law, Alice, the one who was hit by the car but she was going out to PT.
The mailman brought me a beautiful pendant to work with and I was very excited. I wrote the sender and said the pendant was exquisite before I took it out of the little plastic bag.
Whuh oh.
There are minute chips where the pliers dug into the stone while doing the wirework, it is unmistakable, and it means that I cannot put the price tag on it that I need to. How do you put your name and reputation on something that is damaged before you even touch it?
So I called Pat and she said to contact the seller so I did, but reluctantly.

And then I told John, I have to get out of here.

So I went to Target.

And I looked at a cute little purse (I almost never carry one) and I discovered that in order to buy nice clothes I have to become pregnant again because that's all that is going to fit. Or lose weight. Trying, I am trying. Really.

And I turned around in the aisle and there they were.......the spawn of the Devil: Cell Phones.

Smart phones.

Now I should explain about my phone. It is called the "Tundra". It is made for construction workers and is heavily encased in rubber. It would be a dog toy under any other circumstances but I bought it especially because I kept dropping the damn Razor.

But I didn't want one from Target so I drove over to the cell phone store and I knew I didn't have the money for a hot iPhone. I bought a cheapie. A "smart" phone but a cheapie.

I know from nothing about these damn phones.

This is my new phone. DS for short: Devil's Spawn. It is a Motorola. (And don't do that hissing noise my husband made just because it isn't what HE has.)

I had to ask Reggie, the salesman, how to turn it on. When I got home I had to ask John how to answer it.

I am trying to get my email on it. BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH.
I tried to download some free apps. BWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH.
I tried writing to someone but my fingers are approximately the size of spatulas compared to the keyboard and just entering a password took --seriously now-- 40 minutes.

I tried to put Cooper's pretty face on it as wallpaper but all I got was his nose. It is a handsome nose to be sure, but not quite what I had in mind.

Here it is turned on. This is about as far as i have gotten. I miss my Tundra. You turned it on and it was on. It didn't "go to sleep". Especially when I flung it on the seat of the car because a cop was passing.

Also.

Here is the worst part:

I no longer have my "Margaritaville" ring tone.

And.
I found out that MY idea of 3/4 Cup of cereal is not Weight Watcher's idea of 3/4 of a Cup of cereal. They want me to MEASURE it! Shit. And here I thought I had finally found something. I did wonder why the box only lasted half a day.....

Well it is almost daylight. Time to see if there is any wine in the fridge.

THIS IS THE WAY THINGS HAPPEN

Yesterday I bought a bicycle. I rode it around the block a few times and then later repeated the performance. The second time some a-hole yelled at me, just a nasty, changing neighborhood comment which I ignored, but which made me wish I had had a K-9 officer trotting along with me.
Today it is raining.
When I got up a started a laundry consisting of my clothes.
Then:
I dropped the little do-hickey that holds the window shade up and couldn't find it. Got the flashlight. Discovered a disgusting mess under my work table so I pulled everthing out and cleaned up under there. I took the dustpan full of crap to the kitchen and learned the bin was full so I took it out and put in a new liner and in doing so pulled out the bin and found all sorts of dirt behind it. I got the broom and swept that spot but there was a stickly spot on the floor and the dirt stuck to it.
So I took the rug out and shook it and then swept but there were also two glops of raspberry on the floor that now had hair and dirt stuck in them.
I got out the Swiffer thing and the pad was filthy so I got under the sink to find a new one and discovered that nothing was where it was supposed to be and so I pulled everything out and cleaned under the sink and put stuff back where it belonged but the Swiffer pads weren't under there anyway, they were over by the Swiffer.
I put a new pad on and set the old one on the counter for the moment and saw that the counter was dirty. I cleared everything off the counter and washed and bleached it and dried it and put it back and put the new pad on the Swiffer and did the kitchen floor. I let it dry and then put the rugs back.

I heard that the washing machine had stopped so I started moving stuff to the dryer and discovered that the little credit card wallet john gave me yesterday had gone through the laundry with all my credit cards and membership cards and medicare card in it.

I got the clothes in the dryer and emptied out the soaked wallet and laid everything on top of my currently inkless printer to dry.

And here I am and it is not even 8 o'clock in the morning....

And now John has looked in all the same places I looked for the little gizmo that holds my shade up (which is now held by a bobby-pin) and been as unable as I to find it.

Thus begins my Saturday.................................................

DOING THE SENSIBLE THING

First off I want to change the default font on this computer. Can anyone tell me how to do it so it stays changed?

Secondly yesterday we tried an experiement with Nigel. Well no. I tried an experiment with Nigel since John was gone. I put a good belly band on Nigel and fastened it with straps to a harness on the sides so he could not pull it off and I let him loose in the house.

Now I have a fabulous diaper thing that Val Brewer made for him and it fits but when I put it on him he freezes. My dogs, un-used to clothing of any kind, find this idea terrifying. He is getting better about it, but he still needs a pad in there to catch the dribbling urine.

So I put this on him and of course, he slept all day. I did all the dog laundry and I steam-cleaned the rugs. And my house smelled GORGEOUS. CLEAN. And so I took the belly band off to change the pad and OH MY GOODNESS!!!! A wall of ammonia and a doggie crotch the color of our local fire chief's SUV. Little bumplettes everywhere that the pad, soaking and dripping with urine, had been.

Oops.

And Nigel....well poor Nigel did not smell gorgeous or clean.

So I got out the doggie dry shampoo (I just ordered a gallon) and the Gold Bond powder and I went to work while he whimpered and squirmed. I think I got all the urine off. Then I dried him, kind of gently I hope, and then I poured on the Gold Bond (those people must make a fortune just from Drool members)  and left him to air out. The pad went in the outside garbage and the belly band into the washing machine.

Clearly I need to acclimate him to this slowly. And to change the pads every hour or so which may make it more trouble than steam cleaning the rugs.

He seemed very relieved (no pun intended) to have his naked self back.

And after all that housework I went to my WWatchers meeting and had gained a pound.

Sometimes I hate everything.

THINGS

When the kids left home our water bill dropped dramatically, and it stayed a pittance for a long time. Then Nigel went down in the rear.
The other day John pointed to the water bill, his mouth working soundlessly, eyeballs red and bulging.
I in turn pointed to Nigel, enscounced on my bed, which is covered with thick, waterproof padding, and to his pen which is likewise covered with padding and to the bottles of enzymatic cleaner, odor killers, dry shampoos and towels.
Every morning I get up and the very first thing I do is to start the dog laundry.
Today I have at least three loads because I am also washing the comforter and blanket and sheet from my bed, all of which are covered with the waterproof stuff and a comforter and pads to prevent urine leakage.
Also all the pads from the living room (couch and John's chair) need to be washed and later, all the pads from Nigel's pen need to be washed. Ok, four loads.

And someday I will get to my clothes, and John's clothes one of these days... maybe next week.

Meanwhile, the robins are back. This has nothing to do with laundry. The robins build a nest in a faux nest-box hung on the eaves of the building in back of the house which is falling down. (The other building, not the back of the house.) The squirrels also nested in that building for awhile, driving the birds out but the floor to the squirrel playground fell last winter and now they are gone and the robins back, which I much prefer.

The above photo shows what it looks like now, with the paranoid robin on the nest, but soon there will be eggs-- maybe already, and then a nest of hideously ugly baby birds which grow into cute baby birds of which, inevitably, one will fall to the ground at the feet of an otherwise oblivious Basset who suddenly finds himself confronted with Manna from Heaven-- not only a snack, but a LIVE SNACK.

Baby birds are harder to rescue from the dogs than baby squirrels, which were also always falling out of the damn nest. Plus, the baby robins do not bite as hard as a baby squirrel, altho the parents are usually more difficult. I have never had a Mother squirrel attack, altho they raise holy hell, but I have been dive-bombed by robins.

This adds a note of nature to our little corner of the world, not counting the Coyote I have seen trotting down our street three times now, early in the morning, always alone, always going the same direction, once carrying a rabbit. (The rabbit was not a voluntary passenger, I do not think.)

This means i go out with the dogs the first thing, or the first couple of times if it is still dark or dawnish the second time. Usually they sleep until around 8 or 9 after they have gotten me up to feed them at between 5 and 6 in the morning.
Life goes on, Basset-style.

(Photo from Google)