Category: writing woes

April Fool

This is probably the one day of the year I hate.  This is the day that glorifies all infantile people.   I don’t like pranksters and people that can only have fun at the expense of others.  Pranksters either have never had a prank pulled on them or feel that they have to continually one up the previous “joke”.  They don’t understand how humiliating and hurtful practical jokes can and are to the recipient of the practical joke.

I love to have fun as much as the next person, but mostly I only poke fun at myself.  Mitch and the dogs get a small dose of poking, but I would never intentionally hurt someone’s feelings for my pleasure.  I know too many people that have no sense of humor and the consequences of being the butt of the joke could be quote dire to the protagonist.  Now that might be funny.

I am holding out hope that I don’t get caught in an April Fool’s joke today, but I probably will.  Thank goodness it’s only one day long.

April Fool jokesters don’t realize that the biggest Fool is them.

Coming of Age

I think I’m finally becoming comfortable in my own skin.  It took me long enough.  In my younger days I wanted to be someone else.  I wanted to be what I wasn’t.  In school, I wanted to be liked and popular.  I wasn’t.  When my children were growing up, I tried to be the perfect mother.  I failed.  I always felt that I wasn’t enough.  Not smart enough, not pretty enough, not savvy enough.  I was always chasing windmills in my mind.  Always playing catch up and never getting even let alone ahead.  I watched everyone else and wished that I could be like them and inherit the innate gifts they possessed.  I didn’t realize that I had value and talent. 

The road to self-confidence and self-love has been long and arduous with serious setbacks along the way.  Growing up and growing wiser are not mutually synonymous.  There’s proof of that in the news every day.  There are moments I wish I could go back in time just to slap myself upside the head and tell me that I had so much potential and to not waste it.  But alas, there is no going back, just the road ahead to be the person I want to be.  I found that I am less afraid of the future and what it holds.  I meet each day with excitement for each new discovery.  There is so much I want to do and see.  My biggest fear is not what the future holds but if I will get to do all the things I want to do. 

As I’ve gotten older, maybe not wiser, I’ve gotten more and less tolerant.  More tolerant of different lifestyles and political views, I don’t care who lives with whom and what you want to do behind closed doors.  (As long as it’s not hurtful to others.)  Less tolerant of stupidity and cruelty, I will never understand or accept the cruel nature of some people and the need to inflict pain whether physical or mental upon another living being.  I’m harder on criminal actions now.  I believe in the death penalty.  I believe that anyone committing a crime with a weapon deserves the death penalty.  If you have a weapon in the commission of a crime, you obviously have no regard for human life, so you should get the same consideration in kind.  (Some may think that is an oxymoron, oh well.)

I have discovered that self-doubt in small doses is not a bad thing, listen to that little voice in the back of my head, but put it in perspective.  Jumping off a cliff is stupid, but not taking a chance on a relationship or a new experience because of fear that the outcome will not meet my expectation is far worse.  Fear of failure is normal, no one wants to fail, but trying is not failing, it’s just not succeeding.  This time.  Next time may be a huge success.  Never give up.

Today is my birthday and this is my birthday wish to everyone.  Never give up.  Always reach for the stars, you never know when you’ll reach one.

Daylight Savings Time

Daylight Savings Time is going to be the death of me.  This is a government plot to totally screw up everybody’s body clock and thus take over the world.  I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Friday night, the night before this madness took over.  The dogs are all out of sync, they don’t know whether it’s time to eat, go for a walk or bedtime. 

Mitch’s work schedule mandates that we go to bed very early in the evening in order to be up and bright eyed at 2:30 in the morning.  Now with Daylight Savings Time, I feel like I’m going to bed in the middle of the afternoon and by the time I finally fall asleep, it’s time to get up and start all over again, sans bright eyed.  I know, I’m whining, sorry.

Daylight Savings Time started in World War I in order to conserve energy, but in adding more light to end of the day we sacrifice the early morning light.  In fact most farmers are against Daylight Savings Time and I’m with them.  I get up very early every day, albeit our schedule demands it, but I’m also an early riser naturally.  I figure that if someone wants more daylight hours, get up an hour earlier.  Why can’t the world change just for me?  Now I’m really whining, sorry.  But I’m the one here suffering from massive fatigue and sleep deprivation, so I get to complain.  Mitch is not the least bit out of sync; he can sleep through a nuclear blast.  Notice that now I’m getting cranky on top of the fatigue.

I see a trip to Walmart for some over the counter sleeping pills in my future.

The Great Snowmaggedon of 2013

Thursday the weather forecasters finally got it right.  We have been in a severe drought since last June, so there hasn’t been much for them to talk about.  It has been so bad that the mere suggestion of the possibility of precipitation has brought a flurry (no pun intended) of continuous weather reports.  Our weather forecasters were downright giddy throughout the day having successfully predicting the Great Snowmageddon of 2013.  It was touted as the biggest single day snowfall in decades.

They started predicting that the storm would arrive at midnight on Wednesday dropping one to two inches an hour.  We got up at 2:30 am and looked outside, no snow, what a disappointment.  We figured the weathermen got it wrong, again.  We would probably just get a dusting.  Well the snowflakes didn’t start to fall until about 7:00 am on Thursday long after we had been up and at work.  It snowed with a vengeance for about 5 hours coming down fast and furious. 

People were getting their cars stuck in the middle of the roads or sliding off the roads into ditches and just leaving their cars where they got stuck, causing huge traffic jams and wrecks.  It was as if a lot of people that have lived here for years had forgotten how to drive in the snow.  People over-estimated their ability and under-estimated the conditions.  It made for spectacular news coverage.  Nothing like a massive blizzard to give the media something to talk about.  The media had reporters out on the roadways taking pictures of snarled traffic throughout the city, interviewing stranded travelers and pretty much making nuisances of themselves, as usual.

We ended up with about nine inches of snow and in the process making tow trucks, body shops and car dealers very happy.  Business is booming for them.

Oh and Orso thinks the snow is pretty awesome!

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An Early Morning Hike

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Bright and early this morning before anyone else was about the dogs and I went hiking. 

The place is a great place for the dogs to run off an extra large amount of pent up energy.

These were taken with my Canon using my new EF-S 10-22mm zoom lens.

 

Who or What is Out There?

I’m beginning to think that the simple act of walking the dogs at 4:30 in the morning is anything but solitary.  It seems every morning we run into some wandering critter.  I’m used to watching out for raccoons, opossums and deer.  On a few occasions, the dogs have heard or smelled something; I don’t know what, but something.  I never saw anything, but there have been a couple of times that the hair on the back of my neck has stood on end and my heartbeat started racing, but nothing concrete.  Just a feeling of trepidation or uneasiness.  Call it intuition, but I didn’t stick around to find out if I was just being silly.

The walk started off normally, Charlie walking back and forth, crossing behind me then getting the leash all tangled up in search of the exact right tree or bush to pee on, making me crazy.  I think he does this on purpose knowing how much I hate it and how much he hates being on the leash.  Charlie would much prefer to range loose chasing after whatever is out there.  Oh and his really favorite thing to do is to roll in something stinky and nasty, causing me to have to bathe him before I can get ready for work.  Those are the reasons the dogs now walk on a leash.  Sorry I digress.

The morning was cold with clear skies and a light breeze. The stars were twinkling and there was no moon, so it was pretty dark with shadows cast from the porch light glow of a few houses behind me.  I felt something, a presence, so I looked first at the dogs to check their behavior, but they acted as though nothing was out of place.  Then I scanned the darkness around us and listened intently for some sound that didn’t fit.  At first I didn’t see or hear anything unusual, but on a second sweep I noticed a shadowy shape up on the top of the hill.  It looked like a person just standing up on the hill not moving, just standing very still. 

I felt very naked in the predawn darkness, not knowing who or what it was.  I didn’t even know if the shape was facing toward me or away.  Was he looking at me or some other direction?  I reached back into my memory and tried to remember if the shape had always been there and I have just not noticed it before, but I couldn’t remember ever seeing it before.  I didn’t want to call out to the shape, one if it was a person and it was looking away, I didn’t want to call attention to us and two if it was looking at us, I didn’t want to antagonize it.  I stood frozen in one spot trying to get a better look at the form.  I still couldn’t get a better look and I had no intention of getting closer.  I looked down at the dogs but they were oblivious.  Maybe they hadn’t smelled him or maybe he didn’t smell.  I realized that I had been holding my breath and slowly let it out.

I decided that the smartest decision, maybe not the bravest choice, but definitely the safest option was to make ourselves scarce.  I quickly turned the dogs around and walked very briskly back the way we came.  I kept looking back over my shoulder all the way home making sure that we weren’t being followed.

I was totally unnerved by the time we made it back home, expecting any minute to have the bogeyman jump out of the underbrush and scare the bejesus out of me.  Then when nothing happened, I berated myself for being such a sissy. 

Tomorrow I’ll be paying more attention to my surroundings on the walk and check to see if the shape is still there or if it is someplace else.

It’s a Jungle Out There

Our predawn walk today was almost like a trip to the zoo.  Lions and tigers and bears oh my.  Well not quite lions and tigers and bears, but plenty of other wild animals crossed our path this morning.  I almost felt like Marlin Perkins. 

No sooner than we started off up the hill from the house did we run across a small herd of deer mingling in the neighbor’s yard.  Orso lunged forward with an extremely loud woof, startling the deer causing them to bolt and run up over the hill beyond us.  After I put my shoulder back in the socket we resumed our walk.  I had my fingers crossed inside my mittens that we were now going to be animal free.  Not so.  You would think that I would be used to being wrong all the time.

As we topped the hill and started down there was a very large opossum sauntering across the road without a care in the world.  Stupid opossum.  Both dogs charged down the hill toward the opossum with a five foot one and a half inch boat anchor in tow, me.  It took about fifteen steps before I could regain control and halt the charge, because now the opossum has seen the charging dogs and decided to play possum and faint.  Really stupid animal.  Just what I need, an unconscious wild animal, two dogs ready to eat the unconscious wild animal and with my luck the wild animal would wake up and decide to fight back.  With much tugging and pulling and a few choice words spoken softly so as not to rouse the sleeping opossum and the neighbors, I finally pulled them past the critter and moved on. 

We ran across no more animals on the way to the dam so I was becoming hopeful we would not see anything else.  Well almost right this time, but not quite.  At the dam, to the left of us was the lake and to the right is a park area complete with a shelter house, picnic table and grill.  Below the dam is a nice greenway that we take the dogs to and let them run and work off pent up energy.  Well this morning at the base of one of the two large Sycamore trees was a large raccoon hugging the base of the tree frozen and making no movement just watching us very alertly.  Luckily for me the wind was blowing across us from the left to the right, masking the raccoon’s scent.  The dogs had no idea that fifteen feet from us this raccoon was waiting and watching, ready to scurry up the tree if the need should arise.  As we walked past, I turned back and saw the raccoon walk across the road to the lake and disappear in the dark. 

Maybe I need to make a standing appointment with my chiropractor.

It’s Time to Start Writing Again

I realized the other day that I hadn’t been writing since AJ died.  I had nothing to say.  Nothing funny or witty came to mind; I just felt this empty loss.  I guess I needed the time to get past his death.  I still miss him, but now I know that it was for the best for him.  No more pain.  I’m just sorry that I didn’t clue into his pain sooner.  That makes me sad that I didn’t see the signs, the growing rib cage, the slowing down and most of all not picking up on his refusal to eat with the usual gusto he had exhibited in the past.  Does that make me a bad pet owner?  I hope not.  But I hope that I will be a more aware pet owner for Charlie and Orso.

When a member of the family dies all you feel at first is the sorrow and pain of the loss of a dear loved one.  All of their faults are forgotten.  I could only think of how much I loved him, what a devoted dog he was and that I would never get to see or pet him again.  AJ wasn’t perfect, far from it in reality. 

He had severe separation anxiety issues that we could never overcome, even after ten years in a stable loving environment.  AJ was a consummate counter surfer, stealing and consuming multiple loaves of bread and many coffee cakes that were still in the baking dish.  How that glass pan survived multiple crashes to the floor is a testament to the strength of Pyrex.  He even broke into the pantry and ate his way through two loaves of bread, chocolate cake mix, taco shells, dry pasta and a bottle of Magic Shell in one scavenger attack.  He survived without getting sick, even though I would have felt some sense of justice if he had.

I can look back now and remember the carnage and mess and smile, but not then.  Mitch and I went through a period of trying everything we could think of to contain the dogs, with AJ as the ring leader, and keep the kitchen contents safe from theft and destruction.  The pantry doors will have to be replaced because of the scratches from AJ working to pull the doors open.  I can’t remember how many times AJ knocked over the trash can and dragged the bag out into the room and searched for something that might be tasty, leaving a nasty mess for us to clean up. 

AJ chewed his way through a pair of Mitch’s boots, a pair of my gloves, a pair of 360 ear muffs (my favorite ones of course) and a couple of my cookbooks over the years.  I don’t know if it was out of boredom or fear, but it was so frustrating on my part, looking at the destruction and the cost to repair or replace what was torn up.  We even tried kenneling him when we were gone.  There wasn’t a crate made that could hold him for long.  AJ had an uncanny ability for escape.  His nickname should have been Houdini.  First we tried a wire crate.  It took him maybe four hours to force the welds at the corners to pop and collapse the crate.  I’m only guessing at the four hours because that was how long I was gone.  After the failure of the wire crate we tried an airline crate, formed plastic with wire windows and door.  The door lasted three days before AJ had pushed against the hinge pins long and hard enough to bend the catches so the door would swing open.  Mitch tried to get creative and cut a door out of clear Lexan, drilled vent holes and hung it in place of the bent wire door.  That solution lasted one week.  Long enough for AJ to chew through the formed plastic base all the way across under the door, causing the door to just fall out.  Done, we were out of ideas on ways to lock up Houdini. 

What can you do with a dog that is that determined to be untethered with a myriad of phobias and bad habits?  The only option we had, love him and deal with the phobias and bad behavior on a day by day basis.  For all of the destruction and mayhem, I wouldn’t have missed one moment with AJ.

A Love Story

How do you write a love story without loss and tears?  I don’t know of any love story ever told where there is no loss, no tears.  This one is no different.

When I first looked into his soft brown eyes, I fell in love.  I felt an over whelming urge to stroke his head and keep him safe from all manner of threats.  I first met AJ, our black lab, on a hunting trip ten years ago, when I began a quest to find a hunting partner for our aging yellow lab, Buddy.

AJ was 2 years old at the time and afraid of just about everything that didn’t pertain to hunting.  He was and still is the most beautiful dog in the field I’ve ever seen.  He moved with grace and speed in search of the elusive scent of a pheasant.  He was truly alive and in his element in the field.  When he locked on the bird he would go on point and hold the bird until we could get set for the shot.  We didn’t deserve such a magnificent hunting dog.

We soon learned that when not in the field, AJ was terrified of most everything else.  He didn’t know how to go up or down stairs had never been inside and had no idea how to walk on tile or wood floors.  Mitch had to carry him down the steps the day we brought him home and I had to run a path of throw rugs and towels through the house in order to get him to go to the kitchen.  AJ suffered from severe separation anxiety to the point of mass destruction throughout the house when left alone.  Storms and fireworks would send him into a panic.  He would tremble and shake violently; the only relief would come from touch.  As long as he could touch me, he would find some comfort and sense of protection.

Looking in those soft hooded brown eyes, I always saw total trust and devotion.  AJ became my constant companion, looking to me before listening to anyone else, Mitch included.  Mitch constantly complained that he was chopped liver when I was around. 

AJ seemed ageless until this year.  He had an eternal youth about him, ready for a wrestling match or a game of tag with Orso and Charlie.  This year at twelve years he started feeling his age.  First it was his eyes, his peripheral vision starting to fail.  He struggled with dark rooms and doorways.  Going from the bright light of outside or another room to the dimmer room became a challenge.  Depth perception was the next to go.  AJ would linger at doorways not sure if the floor was really there.   He started becoming tired quickly not able to stand for very long, preferring to lay down on something soft. 

The heartbreaking next stage of aging came rather suddenly with his sudden refusal to eat his usual diet of Science Diet dog food and carrots for snacks.  When he first starting to refuse carrots, I thought maybe the carrots were too hard, maybe he had a broken tooth.  But a quick inspection of his mouth revealed perfect teeth.  I even soaked his food longer to soften it more, but he just turned away and refused the food.  This from a dog that we had to put a rock in his dish in order to slow down the hoover vacuum force food inhalation.  He even turned away from pumpkin.  Now I was getting really worried.  I have never known a Labrador retriever to turn away from food.  Especially our dogs.

I was able to deal with the eyesight problems and I could rationalize the tired bones.  My brain understood that AJ was growing old and had lived a wonderfully long life, but my heart was breaking watching the rapid physical deterioration.  Not knowing how it would turn out, we took AJ with us on our hunting trip last weekend.  He seemed like the AJ I’ve always known doing what he was bred for, most alive in the field searching for the ever elusive scent of the bird.

Once we got back from the trip he became shakier in his stride and refused almost all food, even hamburger.  We took him to the vet for tests, hoping for the best and trying to prepare for the worst, but you never do.  The test results and X-rays showed a massive tumor the size of a football in his abdomen pressing against his ribs.  Considering the surgery was high risk with a very slim chance that the vet could even get it out and his age, we made the decision to have him put to sleep.  My head knows that this was for the best but my heart is broken, knowing that I will never know the absolute love and devotion from a dog ever again. 

AJ was special and has gone to a special place that only the great dogs can go to.

Our Sunday Hunt

While Saturday was cold and raw, Sunday was just brutal.  The high temperature for the day was at 4:30 in the morning when I took the dogs outside after they ate.  It went downhill from there.  By the time we got out of the car to start the morning hunt, the temperature had dropped to about twenty degrees with twenty-five mile an hour winds out of the northwest.  I seriously doubted our sanity.  I had on a turtleneck, button up shirt, insulated vest and an insulated field coat on top and pants and insulated over-pants on the bottom.  I also was wearing silk glove liners and insulated shooting gloves.  It wasn’t enough.  That wind just cut right through me.

Shaking my head at our insanity, I grabbed my camera and headed out with Mitch and the dogs.  Trying to catch a scent of any birds in this wind was going to be sheer luck on the dogs’ part.  AJ flushed the first bird which Mitch shot and AJ retrieved it with Orso in hot pursuit.  Maybe there would be birds in spite of the bitter conditions. 

As we rounded an out cropping of trees that opened up to a small field of knee high prairie grass.  I walked on the outer rim while Mitch walked along the tree line.  As I got to the middle of the field I noticed that all of the dogs were with me (sans gun) and Mitch was nowhere to be seen.  I thought to myself, what was the number one rule of hunting?  Stay with the dogs.  I hoped that the dogs wouldn’t find any birds, because I sure wasn’t going to kill a bird with my mind.  I kept calling the dogs back to me hoping to stall and Mitch would miraculously show up just as the dogs flushed some birds.  But no such luck.  Charlie flushed one into the tree line at the edge of the field and I found myself running to where the quail flew despite the fact that I only carried a camera.  Old habits.  Mitch finally showed up just as AJ flushed a small covey of about five quail.  Mitch shot two into the trees when a third one flew out over my head and as Mitch swung around for the shot I quickly dropped to the ground to avoid either being shot or slapped in the head with the gun barrel.  He got the bird, by the way.

So far the day was shaping up to be a very fruitful harvest.  The only drawback was the bitter cold.  I headed down into the draw to try to escape the wind, but by then my hands were too cold.  They hurt so bad even with the gloves on I was afraid that I could cause some permanent damage so I told Mitch that I was going to head back to the car and warm up.  Walking back to the car I heard a noise behind me so I turned to look back and there was AJ, who lives to hunt, walking along with me.  He had had enough too.

I think that AJ and I are the wiser of the bunch.  But that’s not saying much since we all went out there to begin with.