A Cranky Ol' Lady Goes a'Blogging

Somebody's coming!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Tue, 01 May 2012 07:19:00 +0000

My younger son T is almost here, having driven from Phoenix in a day and a half (takes me two-and-a-half days). He's starting a new phase in his life, graduate student life at U of O in Eugene, in September. Rah! I'm proud.

I took Charly to the vet for middling concerns (incomplete mention in previous post). (1) Seems like stools are too often too soft. Vet digs into her ass for poop with a long, skinny spoon. Stool test phase 1: positive for Giardia. Powder on food daily for 5 days. It's all that shared water in dog park, not to mention the puddles. More results in about a week for tests that take longer. (2) Why always yellowish eye-goober balls & off/on red lower eye membranes? Yellow or green means bacterial infection. Eye drops (antibacterial) twice daily. (3) About to leave, vet says "Oh! What's this under her neck? Staph infection." Wha...? I hadn't even noticed the pink spots, which are partly hidden by her collar, and of course how often do I peer under her neck? This also blamed on dog park. Washing, & ointment twice daily for 10 days. It's already much better after two days treatment.

Yoga update. After Julie's help in last Thursday's class, I tried headstand on my own at home Sunday, along with an hour of other poses. Voila! No problem at all getting up. Of course, Terry was anticipating a flop like last week, so he was ultra-careful, poised on all sides to break my fall. I surprised him. He said that I'm well on my way with headstand. Yes, of course I am.

T is here! A week from today, I'll be off on a car trip of my own. I'm glad he'll be here so I don't have to worry about somebody breaking in while I'm gone. Meantime, we can enjoy a week of each other's company.

Doggone bone!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 00:16:00 +0000

Charly has gained nearly 10 lbs in the past four months, weighing now 62 lbs. That's quite enough growing, thank you! The vet says she's just right, ribs not visible but easily felt when touched. She eats grass and trims the neighbors' shrubs through the fence, which isn't that good for her, but she lives. And I must be feeding & exercising her properly, so I can quit fretting over grain/nograin, etc. I'll stick with kibble that gets its fiber from veggies, not grain, and a dollop of canned something on top for flavor, and raw bones with scraps of flesh on them for occasional excitement. Here she is with her latest -- lamb femur, fresh-frozen -- YUM. The routine is to chew on it a while, then bury it, then dig it up and "please can I bring it into the house?" At which point, loyal dog servant that I am, I sigh and wash it off, give it back to her, and within 15 minutes she wants to take it outside again, at which point I give in, let her out, and don't let her bring it inside again. Right now, she's whining at the back door with the bone in her mouth, confident I'll give in. No...

It's dicey going to dog park these days, as the weather switches frantically from sun to rain to sun to rain. Yesterday we got caught in a downpour on the way home on foot, windy too, Charly, wild-eyed, begging for shelter, eyeing my raincoat.

Level 2 Iyengar yoga is definitely more challenging than level 1. I come home drained and have the most impressive gigantic poops the next day. Lots of twists, sitting on feet, inversions, hip/thigh rotations. I'm going twice a week to two different instructors, one (Julie) who is relentlessly positive, encouraging, helpful, and the other (Terry) who cannot holdback little sighs of frustration as I demonstrate my sorry attempts at headstand and handstand, hinting (I cannot help but imagine) that maybe I shouldn't be in level 2 yet. Since the helpful one is the 30-year owner of the studio and has the most experience, I think I'll trust her assessment more (and will surely improve enough for the other instructor to relax). I probably didn't do this right. First, I did a makeup for a missed class in Julie's level 2. After, she approached me after class and encouraged me to move on up. I did so when the next sequence of classes started, also signing up for Terry's level 2 but without talking to him first. I had enjoyed his teaching style & his personality in a level 1-2 class, designed to let those who are uncertain see what it's like to move up. I should have consulted him first. Instead I just trusted Julie's approval and went for it, assuming they'd all be on the same page. Awkward. But hey, if it keeps feeling awkward, I'll just switch to one of Julie's other level 2 classes in place of Terry's. I like to sample different instructors, but maybe this time it's better to stick with one.

New grandbaby, Iris Ann!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 01:11:00 +0000

The beautiful Iris Ann arrived April 5th! I swiped these pics from her facebook page. So far I haven't managed to take any pictures myself. I'm too busy a'lookin' and a'grinnin'. I'd almost forgotten what a wee baby-grub feels like in the arms.

In two weeks, she gained an inch in length and a pound. Man, what a wild head of hair. When she's awake & looking all around, it's so exciting imagining her experience, her transition from spaceship mama into the world of light and touch and sound and smell. I look forward to many years watching Iris and Henry grow up together. Jason & Leanne make such beautiful babies!

A taste of summer

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 00:57:00 +0000

It's weird how the seasons progress in Portland. The daily temperatures creep along (40's, 50's, high 50's), then BOOM, 80's! That lasted two days. Blazing sunshine, shorts, sunglasses, a mad dash to the coast for a three-hour beach walk at the north end of Cape Meares (maybe 4-5 miles) with Charly doing it several times over in circles. Today, back to clouds, drizzle, and hi-50's/low-60's again expected to last the week. Oh! I see a sun picture for next Monday on the week's forecast. Can't count on it staying that way though.

I don't usually go to the coast on the weekend, and as expected the beach was more peopled than I like. Even so, it's less crowded than most other places, allowing me to let Charly run again and again, between leash-ups. Finally we met a couple with a dog and no kiddos who were happy to let their young springer spaniel play with Charly. Mostly, though, she gets her thrills running full speed in all directions, chasing birds, cavorting in sand, and chasing everything blown by the wind. Crazy how good it makes me feel to watch her blazing around. Pure, unadulterated joy.

There's always something special to play with. Last time, it was a sponge. This time a tennis ball, and OMG what an amazing treasure -- a plastic gas can!

This time I carried some water and discouraged her from drinking seawater. Only two spurting diarrhea episodes, better than our last trip. I was startled to notice that I went three hours without a pee. Ah, so convenient. Visit Safeway bathroom in Tillamook coming & going, no trips up the dune.

Dragging myself back

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 07:48:00 +0000

Aah, here I am, back again to rebuild the habit of writing here. Somebody misses me! Awww. :) Let's just say I'm emerging from hibernation. Spring is coming. The rain is warming a bit. I'm appropriately grumpy, still feeling the effects of a fall last Saturday while hiking the Salmon River Trail with Charly. I tried, and failed, to cross a small but rushing rivulet balancing on rocks. The crash was so sudden that when I instinctively broke my fall by catching myself with one hand on a rock, the sly rock practically broke my pinky by spreading it away from my ring finger, which persuaded me to go ahead and fall on my ass, the half roll smacking my head and bending my glasses. I'm left with a very sore hand at the pinky knuckle and a mild headache, but no serious injury. That was almost a week ago. The swelling has gone down, but the knuckle is still very touchy, not helped by Charly stepping on it when she joined me on the sofa tonight. The upside is I can still do yoga, though I skipped Monday's class. Thursday's class was okay. I'd practiced at home Tuesday and Wednesday to see if I could, and it felt so good I'm resolved to finally, after over a year of Iyengar classes, do it regularly at home as well. Level 2 is more challenging and more satisfying, plus I learned a pose that just might help my knees. Must do it daily.

It's late. Gotta push Charly over and get some sleep. I'll be back.

Feeling heroic

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 00:25:00 +0000

Yesterday concluded my second week of the winter quarter's yoga classes. I've switched from two evening classes a week to one evening and one mid-morning class a week. I'm feeling heroic because I've actually made it to my 10 am yoga class two weeks in a row. Remember, I normally am barely out of bed yet at that hour and need a couple of hours to drink three cups of coffee, eat something, feed Charly, forget everybody's pills until noon at least, and then decide what to do that day. In class at 10 am, I feel like a statue that's in the early stages of coming to life, blinking, moving awkwardly, testing. Balancing poses are a cruel joke. Ardha chandrasana at 10:30 am? You have to be kidding! No? As for eating at least two hours before class... Well, I ate a banana on the way in the car. I was fine. Burp.

Oregon and Washington are drowning, washing away in spots. I can't recall the last time I saw the sun & am grateful to live atop a hill.

Here's Charly posing with her shoe. Yes, HER shoe, not mine. She knows the difference. She loves to stuff her nose inside, inhaling deeply over and over. I expect one day to be out walking her and see her leap upon the shoe's former owner who donated it to GoodWill. (Wait, she does that to everybody.)

One of these days I'll have to learn how to arise at 6 am so that I can cope with grandson Henry spending the night. We are starting with him staying here a couple of hours this Saturday, progressing to overnights, and then him moving in for a few days when his new sister arrives. It will be weird and fun, possibly stressful at first, for both of us, adapting.

Doggy day care rocks!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 22:17:00 +0000

Charly is spending a few hours with somebody besides me. Now I'm at home marveling in the peaceful solitude that has become so rare. I can practice on the whistle to my heart's content without distraction. However, I've spent the first part of my vacation watching Charly on the Dogs Dig It webcam. I am surprised there's not more running around playing. No, everybody's strolling around so calmly I'm a bit disappointed. Oh well. Practice!

"Whooooo-whoooooo!"

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 21:57:00 +0000

I woke up extra early this morning (three alarms set at 7:30, 7:45, and 8:00 am) so I could feed Charly, let her out, shower, maybe even nibble something, kennel Charly and leave by 9:00 am to get to J's house by 9:30. It was 29 F ('ing)! I almost called to say maybe it's too cold to be walking around outside at Saturday Market downtown and then go to see the steam engine (Oregon Pacific Railroad) puff and roar and toot, carrying a load of people up and down a small section of track. Henry is train obsessed, and his face said "Awesome!!!" I'm glad I soldiered up and wore many layers and didn't complain. It was fun, and I really have to stop being such a wuss about cold weather. It's perfect weather, i.e. NOT RAINING.

First obedience class

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 00:18:00 +0000

I came home so frazzled I ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream with a beer. There was good and bad. It's a small class, just four dogs & four people. That was good. I cannot imagine how jittery I'd have been with a crowd. The teacher was a substitute (thank god) who talked like a rushing babbling creek overflowing it's banks and running under tent flaps. I felt like a moron, frozen in place, waiting for a signal (okay we'll start the exercise now) that had apparently slipped by me unnoticed. I was not processing information. Right after hearing the instruction not to give a voice command more than once, I'd set about repeating one, couldn't stop myself. Charly did better than I did. Am I senile or what?

Her assistant, a tall young smiling soft-spoken guy, was a lot better at communicating. He was observant, unhurried, helpful, noticed my confusion, and cleared it up gracefully. I had trouble remembering sequences. They use methods a bit like circus tricks in the effort to avoid ever saying "no" to a dog, positive reinforcement only. It will probably be good for me to develop that skill, but I'll be slow at it.

We did a bunch of stuff Charly already knows (sit, down, stand, come) and "watch" (call her name & if she doesn't turn, put the treat at her nose and direct her nose by moving the treat), which we didn't know. The class was nearly over before we got to loose-leash walking. For the exercise on training the dog to walk on a loose leash, I was instructed to hold the leash at my left hip with my right hand, a treat in my left hand, and reward Charly any time she stood at my left on a loose leash, to move a step or two and reward her again if she was still there, not to move at all otherwise. First of all, I have short arms and am fat. My right hand just barely reaches to my left hip and the position kind of binds me up. Then, since my treats are always in my right pocket, I have to switch that around, which requires also switching my cell phone to the right pocket. She also has a favorite way to fold and grip the leash. By the time I have addressed all these issues and listened to the instructor's stream of chatter on sundry subjects, the exercise is basically over. Then we did a related one, having the dog sit for a treat about every two feet to keep his/her attention, constantly changing direction. By the time we got it almost figured out, it was over. Off we went, to practice from a homework sheet.

Gee, I can hardly wait 'til next Thursday :(

Today, more brilliant sunshine & blue sky! I took Charly to dog park using the leash & prong collar, and every time she pulled I just stopped & backed up & voiced a negative sound. When she didn't pull, I praised her. She was doing pretty well until we got almost to dog park & met a pup on a leash. The usual frenzy ensued, including the now almost standard outcome of me tangling with her rapidly spinning body and falling over. So embarrassing! And after all that, there was no one in dog park.

Jumps-a-lot

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 23:37:00 +0000

I finally got my little bucket lined with compostable bag for collection of dog poop for composting. It's already half full (2-gallon bucket) (maybe 5 days' worth). Princess Poops-a-lot is prolific. It's been well over a week without rain and with lots of sunshine. Phenomenal, but chilly, frosting the fallen leaves the LawnMasters guys forgot to collect. Cold dry dog poop is such a joy to pick up. It's the small things that really matter.

Tonight is our first dog obedience class. Today Charly joyfully knocked down a small girl (maybe 4 years old) in our local dog park. She wasn't hurt, just scared, crying. Stupid mothers. I shouted, scolded, then spanked Charly when she tried to jump on the girl again while she was down, and Charly looked all wide-eyed innocence at me. Can it be she can't distinguish a child her size from a dog her size? Charly and I packed our bags and left for home. She didn't get a walk yesterday and was even more wildly springy than usual. I've been lax on leash training lately, and preparing for obedience class by not using the prong collar lately (not permitted there), so she's taking advantage and wearing out my left arm. I keep thinking obedience classes are my savior, but it will probably take weeks to even get to training at that level. We'll see what happens tonight.

I went to a friend's place Tuesday night for dinner and some music practice (my first time in decades trying to play with anyone else). It (trying to play together) was stressful, but I loved it and want more. Next time we will delay the drinking of wine and whiskey until after practice, which should improve at least my whistling. She had also invited Charly, to my surprise & gratitude, and by golly the dog was perfectly sweet, polite, and responsive to behavior advice. Charly didn't even jump up on her. As she's in a wheelchair, maybe she was low enough already that Charly didn't feel the need to self-elevate. Contrasting this with her abominable behavior today, I'm confused. At home, she even jumps on me when I try to do a yoga pose, though we are working on that. Perhaps my friend just has a knowing way with dogs.

I'm trying to imagine Newt Gingrich as president, wondering if I will have to do what I've been threatening to do for years -- move to Canada.

Family time

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 07:05:00 +0000

Perfect turkey!

Son T flew in for a week's visit, and we gathered with son J & family & friends for the giant turkey extravaganza, awesome spread. It was a good week, good to feel family as a good thing -- a break with the past. A new baby is coming in April, a sister for Henry. Sweet!

There is still sunshine some days here in Portland, though the mud never gets a chance to dry. Only one thing is bothering me: I'm not writing (except here). No poems. So does that mean I'm over that, or is it just a hiatus. I had planned to apply to Lesley University's low residency MFA program. Am I getting scared, or do I no longer want to? I can't tell. I'm puzzled. I don't even remember when the next deadline for applications is... March?

My kitchen table is piled high with the type of mail that is not quite throwaway and should be filed away, but my filing system is only half-organized. It's been at least a month since I've been able to eat there. No problem. I eat at my computer desk, or out. How long can this go on? Am I hoping I'll die before I have to deal with stuff? No!

Actually I lied above. More than one thing bothers me. Mail and muddy paws lead the list. Even with the Paw Plunger I get fed up with washing paws. I also cringe at poop pickup (and the green pet compost place is slow to arrange pickup, had to call them and push)... AND their price has gone up from $4.95 to $6.45 per week! Today I went around the yard pushing dirt back into holes. Apparently Charly found that interesting, as much of it is out again.

I took Charly to a new (to us) dog park in North Clackamas Park. It's fully fenced and much larger than the close one we walk to and feels nicer as its woodsy all around. Charly played hard with three larger dogs near her age, but one of them, a doberman, had an aggressive mouth and bit at her legs, neck, etc., just hard enough to penetrate skin and start a tiny bit of blood seepage here and there. I was ambivalent at first, not sure where the boundary should be exactly, as Charly doesn't object but just goes at it harder (though without biting any holes), but the sight of blood did it for me. Next time I see that dog, we are leaving immediately. It may be a case of not staying with his litter long enough to learn bite inhibition.

Poop solution!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 06:30:00 +0000

After my last post, it occurred to me to search the internet for a poop service. If it's anywhere, it's in Portland, and by golly it is! Green Pet Compost Co., hallelujah. For almost $5/week, they give you a bucket and some compostable bags and pick up the poop you've collected weekly. For significantly more $, they'll even come and pick up the poop from the yard themselves. I signed up and am awaiting a call. I'm too proud to pay somebody to pick it up from the yard, but yay for somebody driving it away. I just can't live with myself any longer (back of hand to forehead, lashes quivering) sending several pounds of dog poop a week to the landfill in plastic bags. I've read they can break open and squirt poop on the garbage collectors when they (the plastic bags) get smushed in the truck's gaping maw, and they don't get much chance to decompose while buried in a landfill.

I also found instructions for building your own poop composter at home, but really, as wet as it is all nine months of rainy season, I can't see how that would work very well re drainage into soil. Besides, I'm loath to dig a garbage-can size hole in the mud and could probably procrastinate on that for many months.

Gee, I'm sorry I have no poop photo to accompany this post. It's raining outside (and dark).

Countdown

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 23:22:00 +0000

Only three or four more days (depending how you count it) of cone! I wish I could say the same about rain. Man, it's really coming down today, soaking the dog poop I kept postponing picking up. Rained-on dog poop is so disgusting. And so heavy. Now that we can add food scraps to yard debris for composting, they only pick up garbage every two weeks (composting & recycling weekly). My garbage can is very heavy with mostly dog poop, most of which would be a lot lighter if it ever got a chance to dry out. There must be some way to recycle dog poop, but I don't know one. Maybe I could burn it for fuel and get a compost stove or water heater. Do such things exist? Fume stink control? Nah, I doubt it exists. I think Charly poops excessively. Maybe she's not digesting efficiently.

I took Charly to the vet Monday to have them check her incision and to get some sort of sedative to reduce her activity level. Maybe I should have left her home. She got so excited about everything there that by the time we were ready to leave she had started to bleed a little. They patched her up with some skin glue and sent me home with pills. They work! She is noticeably calmer and takes more naps. That's a relief, but I am getting so fed up with this cone business that I can hardly stand to wait. I need a sedative too. Cone bashing is no fun on my end. The novelty has worn off. Charly copes pretty well, has even learned to scratch her butt with the cone, though sometimes she gets the angle wrong and I have to help her out.

I am bored, staying home too much out of sympathy for Charly's plight. I feel Charly'd out. But she's still cute, and she now weighs 43.6 lbs.

Pampering the conehead

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 05:15:00 +0000

Being spayed was nothing compared to the agony of recovery! Ten days with a cone on the head? No scratching the ears, no licking the paws, no chew toys cuz they just slide out of the cone, no running, no jumping... what's a bitch to do?

I feel so sorry for her. I invite her for long snuggles beside me on the sofa. (She tries climbing into my lap, but those days are gone.) I was nibbling on some garlic naan & shared it with her. Bad choice. Later, when I was eating a miniature marionberry pie from Mehri's Cafe, she threw a whining fit to share that also (no way!), destroying my concentration on the frenetic ending of a Swedish murder/detective novel (The Cruel Stars of the Night by Kjell Eriksson), female cop trapped in the basement of a burning house by the grown-up insane patricidal daughter of a pedantic asshole associate professor Petrarch expert. I didn't give in. Nor did I lose my temper. But I did scold, pinch her neck skin, and then ignore her.

Lethargic days, giving in to muddy kitchen floor, giving up vacuuming, slow to do laundry until no more underpants, hardly any food in the house. Hard to even whistle as much as I need to until I get my new and better instrument, but I manage to get to yoga classes. I'm basically lazy & pleased to live alone & at my own pace. Rainy days are upon us. Upside is, I love my warm long-sleeved cotton t-shirts and the floor length sleeping t-shirt I just got from Deva and my down comforter. Sleepy bear.

Life in a mud pie

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 20:43:00 +0000

Oh yeah, she's getting longer. And notice the wadded rags on the counter? Foot wipers right next to clean dishes. A quick potty trip can be pretty clean, but if she runs around chasing crows or squirrels or cats, or if she digs (yes, she digs), the mud load repeats have me mumbling to myself about exchanging her for a cat while delivering creative curses in a fake happy voice hoping she isn't offended. I love being able to call her assorted types of "bitch" guilt free. Apparently I should have watered the back yard at least twice this summer, as I lost grass cover in some parts of the yard while gaining it in the areas previously bare (in the shade of trees). Damn.

Today I googled for some classier and less aggravating way to deal with mud. I found three: boots, microfiber glove, and the "paw plunger." The microfiber glove claims to hold 600% (6X?) of its weight in mud and has six fingers (two thumbs) so it can be used on either hand as well as either side. Tempting, though it's hard to judge not knowing how much the glove weighs) but nowhere on the website is the price stated, and the order online button goes nowhere. I didn't feel like calling. The boots were tempting, then not so much after I found the paw plunger. It's basically a large barrel-shaped coffee mug with brushy bristles inside. You fill it with warm water and plunge the paw in/out a couple of times. Cool. I ordered it (a little over $40 with shipping, outrageous, but at this point I could be tempted to pay even more).

Still having the occasional sunshiney day to keep me sane here (but not enough to dry out the mud). Me and Charly take up to two-hour walks when it's nice out. She can't go to dog park these days, which is driving both of us up the wall. A week ago Sunday she coughed-honked all day. Monday she was supposed to be spayed. Instead, she was sent home with antibiotics, a diagnosis of "possible" kennel cough, and restrictions on socializing for at least two weeks. Spaying is postponed to this coming Thursday. I hope she heals fast. Meanwhile, the cough disappeared practically overnight. Never did she have a moment of looking or acting sick. She became more energetic every day from lack of exercise. At least on the road trip the car ride put her to sleep. At home she's climbing the walls. These days I truly wish we could at least jog together, but my jogging ability is comparable to her level of reading comprehension.

Dogsitting

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 23:25:00 +0000

The Charly I miss!

Yes, I feel like I'm dogsitting my own dog. She's not supposed to socialize for another week or so, even though she's not coughing or sneezing at all any longer. All those dog park calories burned up every day make for a much happier and more peaceful Charly. Today she wants in/out/in/out/in/out/in/out, and though I try to say no to the outs, what if she really does need to pee, and she pees inside and it's all my fault? And to the ins because she makes a lot of noise barking (I taught her to "speak" to get in but if it doesn't work she's assaulting the door with ever-increasing desperation), and I'm trying to do something important like listen to Fresh Air on NPR because Terry Gross is doing a long interview with Tom Waits about his new album, and why the hell can't Charly just lie around for a change!? And then, with Charly complaining outside the door, the mailman knocks loudly (and so Charly escalates) to have me sign for a threatening letter from the IRS, and then I have to call him back because I kept his pen, missing hugely significant interview highlights, I'm sure, and I know I can listen to it later by merely clicking on the "listen" button, but goddam it I want to listen RIGHT NOW!

Sigh. I finally took Charly for a walk, and any minute now I'm off to a restorative yoga class, which is guaranteed to return me to a state of serenity. (The teacher always warns to be careful driving home after a restorative class.)

I'll be back!

Reflections on Portal music camp

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sun, 30 Oct 2011 21:59:00 +0000

That was a loooong road trip! I've been home a week now, but I still have unpacked luggage and a general reluctance to do anything much. I did manage to make it to one yoga class and a couple of walks with Charly. It's muddy-paw season, and my kitchen floor is muddied, as are my bed sheets. I'm belatedly geared up now to meet Charly at the door with a damp towel. I can't quite get motivated to mop the floor or wash the sheets. If I do make it to the washer any time soon, it will be with an armload of dirty underpants.

The upside is I'm still playing my whistle, making The Arran Boat sound a little more like a tune every day. I still can't quite play it from memory, but I'm getting closer. Now I'm craving a $200 Burke brass D whistle, waiting for payday to take the plunge. I hope it isn't premature. No, no, I'm sure I'll carry on with this and that it'll be way more fun than the alto recorder was all those years. Will Harmon (my twice-daily teacher in Portal) drilled into me the importance of developing my ear and playing from memory, leaving me eager to become adept at doing so. Going to Kells tonight to practice listening closely.

For me the music camp was a great success, though I was too shy to make the most of the good company all around me. Fortunately I had my cousin for company, and my silly dog. One-on-one lessons were ideal, and Will is one of the nicest people I've ever met and a font of information, encouragement, and advice. Our conversations will stay with me, as will the music. I'll definitely want to go back next year. I'd enjoy it more without the javelinas eyeing Charly and her wanting to play with them.

My hell, preparing for a trip

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 02:18:00 +0000

My head aches with the tension of oncoming decisions about what to take: which shoes? which pants? which shirts? how much warm stuff vs cool stuff? which shoes/boots? books? I already checked out two audiobooks from the library. Must gather camera stuff & computer stuff, my paltry collection of whistles and music, binoculars, bird book, hat... Shit I really should throw out half my clothes (again) and just take everything I have. Nice thing about driving instead of flying is I can take just about everything (don't forget the dog, her wire crate, food, toys... This must be awfully boring for anyone to read. Sorry.

Dog park was empty today when we arrived, so we waited around and by golly others trickled in. A thoroughly muscly and ballsy pit bull, quite nice even with the head of a grizzly bear, named Tibu, short for the Spanish word for shark. Then a young playful black & white collie-ish dog named Rupert who likes to grab neck skin. His owner has only been here four months, has seen nothing yet in the rain department, moved here from Phoenix like me. Then yet another pit bull, Nellie, female gray brindle, only slightly short tempered, leashed when she gets nippy. Charly was kept very busy and came home thoroughly worn out, sleepy, and happy.

Ah, the joy of running multiple loads of laundry. :(
Maybe alcohol would help?

And no, Hooly, the dog parks here have no sign with rules listed. The fenced one I go to has a lovely sign encouraging owners to talk to each other and determine if play styles are compatible. And pick up poo ("It's your doody"). That's it. We talk, and we watch, and we discuss, and we take care, and from now on I'll just leave when a small child arrives.

I'm still enjoying the cool weather and clouds. Rain is intermittent and usually light. Maybe I'll make it here. Ask me in February.

Yep, still happy

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 07:10:00 +0000

Dog park was so relaxing today (Thursday). Only one dog, a young male weimeraner (egad, how does one spell that?), gray with yellow eyes and very playful. Despite the size difference, he and Charly were perfect play buddies, and his owner was good about nixing Charly's attempts to jump on her. No kids, no yappers, no cone-head. No sun either, but what a beautiful day.

Best of all, I just took a large basket of underpants and socks out of the clothes dryer. Last night I had to wear yoga pants with nothing under them, fearing a seam ripping, but it didn't happen. Now I'm set for another few weeks of clean panties.

Visited my medical doc today for sundry changes in prescriptions & itchy neck & flu shot. I like this doc very much, which is a relief. I despised, eventually, my doc in Phoenix.

Mailed off my last procrastinated thing today and gave Charly a bath, pushing the limit by using the hair dryer, and forgetting about the monthly flea treatment. I think she enjoyed it, though she'd hate to admit it.

Another wild day at dog park

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 06:09:00 +0000

There is no end to surprises at dog park. It started out as an average day, arriving to meet a woman with an old grouchy dog and two tiny yappy ones. Sigh. But then Michael arrived with Gretchen, and all was well. Charly and Gretchen palled around growlingly until, who'd a' thunk it, here comes another gigantic dog, this time an English mastiff only a year or two old and looking much older. Charly was worried at first, but the mastiff was so mellow they eventually got friendly. Then came a very tall brown male (intact) doberman with an enormous plastic cone on his head. I thought Charly would have a breakdown. Not only was she, for the first time, the tiniest dog in dog park, but she lost it when cone-head galloped around confident that everyone would want to play with him as he bashed us (dogs and people) right and left with his cone. She got brave enough to bark at him and kept that up until we left. That was simply all she could do. Cone-head's owner was a lovable old geezer who explained that the dog had had eye surgery because a lower lid was turned inward, lashes poking the eyeball. The doc was able to flip the eyelid out and hold it in place with a few small stitches, but the first time it didn't hold and had to be repeated. So the dog had been coned for about three weeks. Both of them are going nuts, and he brought the dog to the park to run off steam. At this point, a gushing mom arrived with a big fat grey mama dog that looked like a pig, and a small boy. The pig dog was leashed because she was not fond of other dogs and also wanted to protect the pup, Charly, from them. Charly of course treated the small boy as a pup exactly her size, and I could not quite keep up with all this. The boy was brave, crying and then recovering and laughing. His mom kept assuring me it was okay. His worst move was to run around, which Charly interpreted as an invitation to play. I finally left, stressed and exhausted. Charly, of course, had a great time.

The rest of the day was devoted to finishing up four small but endlessly procrastinated projects that involved filling in confusing forms regarding financial stuff and sending off Charly's AKC registration and her microchip registration. Why do I postpone everything, like I've been postponing laundry for about three weeks? I've finally run out of underpants and will have to go buy some tomorrow or do the goddam laundry!

Last, a tough yoga class with lots of strenuous standing spraddle-legged with one-knee-bending poses, being constantly reminded to lift my pubic bone. Whew. I grabbed the largest Burgerville burger on the way home and added awesome Trader Joe's ridge-cut salt-and-pepper potato chips and a Ninkasi Total Domination beer.

And so it goes. Backdoor moth photos added for absolutely no reason. Enjoy!

Feeling happy?

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 07:02:00 +0000

Jolly old me! This week's iMac dashboard weather forecast is a solid week of raindrops, but today the sun came out anyhow, defiant. I rushed Charly to the dog park, which was teeming with folks, enough to scare off Michael who has Gretchen, Charly's best friend. (He has some kind of anxiety disorder.) There were two families consisting of five people and maybe six dogs: one family of two with three chihuahuas, one old grouchy dog, and a German shepherd/schnauzer puppy; a mom with young boy-child and some kind of large spotted hound or bird dog; and a guy just leaving with a golden retriever. All but the latter were clustered at the picnic table, so of course Charly was all over all of them. The little boy cried, as did a couple of chihuahuas, and Charly was jumping on everyone, then jumping on the table licking faces, and I was yelling, and everybody was insisting it was okay, and the puppy hid under the table, and a bee stung the boy's hand making him cry again, and finally a "real" dog arrived, Chaco, another of Charly's favorite dogs, and I called Chaco's person by the wrong name as she looked so much like her partner who'd been there last time, and then a new woman came with two dogs, a golden and a golden/Burmese something that looked just like a border collie but wasn't (a puller, not a herder). There was a lot of running, and Chaco and Charly threw each other down like wrestlers, and the tiny dog people left, as did the mom/boy/dog combo. Whew! Very active day. Day? Actually about an hour, felt like a day. Charly slept most of the rest of the day & I went to see "The Help." Good film.

I forgot to practice on my pennywhistle. Darn.

And I keep forgetting to take my camera to dog park, or when I remember to take it, I forget to use it.

After yoga class last night, the instructor made my day by telling me my poses are looking very nice. Wow. She's the head honcho. I felt so good that she'd even noticed and that she went out of her way to let me know I'm doing well. Maybe I'll be able to move up to level 2 classes next term.

Sunday morning Charly and I will take off on our trip to Arizona, hoping for good weather. We'll stop briefly in Phoenix, then onward to Portal for the music camp, where we'll share a room with cousin Hooly and enjoy classes and sessions and workshops. I've barely begun to play the pennywhistle & Hooly is already pretty darn good on mandolin. I'll feel like a cretin among pros but will laugh and enjoy. What it will be like traveling with Charly I cannot predict, just hoping all goes well. She's slowly becoming more or less civilized. Her kangaroo tendencies, however, are still strong.

I am feeling strangely happy lately.

Charly moves on up at dog park

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 23:24:00 +0000

A daily visit to dog park has become our ritual. Charly's best friend is a female German shepherd about three years old. They mouth-duel harmlessly, growling, when not running back and forth. Today we were joined by Bella, a St. Bernard -- big as a house. The two bigger dogs tended to romp off & leave Charly behind, and she was intimidated either by the two giant dogs together or just the new, larger one. So she alternated between chasing after them and dashing away from them... UNTIL suddenly everything changed. Bella went off to one end of the enclosure by herself. Charly watched, crept closer, and jumped at her. Bella is a sweetie, not an aggressive hair on her. Charly got braver, began to bark at her until Bella cringed a little, looking nonplussed. Charly rocketed through the air and crashed against Bella (like she used to do to me), followed by more barking, becoming confident in her new-found power to intimidate. That established, Charly and Bella shared some kisses (and slime) and both seemed happy. Charly lost her fear, showed her stuff, climbed the social ladder, and made a new friend. The three of us dog-people, hanging out at or on the picnic table, felt like we'd been treated to a delightful and dramatic demonstration of canine psychology.

I'm back!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 23:29:00 +0000

My apologies to my many (haha) fans. I seem to have dropped the habit of writing, though I constantly run through my head what I'd write here if I were writing here.

So, T didn't buy a motorcycle after all, and boy did I heave a relieved sigh, even though I ended up spending lots more than anticipated to get him a car. I can see it as saving on hospital bills? Maybe.

I've slowly come around to being sterner with Charly. Gotta civilize this bitch! She just keeps getting taller and crazier. I'm fighting my own internal battle against a deep reluctance to take on the role of boss. No, I will not say pack leader, because two is not a pack and we are not wolves anyhow. I'm learning that one cannot just decide to be kinda sorta bossy. One either is or isn't. I am coming to terms with the power of prongs as I struggle to use them correctly. I'm armed with the puppy book by the monks of New Skete, reinforced by periodic scoldings from cousin Hooly when I waffle, and instead of reading it I'm studying one bit at a time.

Charly (after one shocking day of flying through the air on leash and being jerked back to reality) is near perfect in the back yard. Once or twice daily we have a brief session in the back yard and then go around the block, where the challenge is to keep her mind on me in the face of barking dogs, lolling cats, dawdling crows, noisy trucks, nattering children, and friendly people with or without a dog on leash. My temper was sorely challenged by the evaporation of any response to "sit"! Don't get angry, I repeated silently, just tap or push down her butt and praise her until she transfers the info to the new setting.

My next issue was, well, she doesn't have to really walk at heel so long as she isn't dragging me behind her. Today I faced up to and squashed my tendency to be happy if she doesn't actually pull but just feels the end of the leash. When this happens, she is of course out in front of me and not paying any attention to me. Repeated jerks have no effect but to make her neck sore and me feel guilty. I was dubious of the monks' approach, but it does actually work. Just make a negative sound (nyah, no, etc.) and a corrective snap (without getting angry) and immediately reverse direction. She doesn't particular enjoy her neck being jabbed, so she starts keeping an eye on my feet to anticipate changes, which means she has to stay where she can see them, beside me on the slack leash. And she's getting it. Amazing.

Now I'm going to be late for yoga if I don't get off and change clothes and go. But I'll be back sooner than you think.

The amazing prong collar!

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 21:31:00 +0000

I just took Charly for a short walk, about 10 blocks, wearing both harness and prong collar, starting out with the leash on the harness & planning to switch to the prong collar if necessary. It absolutely was NOT necessary! I can't believe this! She did not make even one try at pulling me. The only thing she did was try to stop and sniff things, and a little jerk was all it took to change her mind. This after only two short lessons, and after skipping a couple of days. It's like having a new dog.

Busy busy days, routines busted

noreply@blogger.com (Cranky Ol' Lady) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 18:52:00 +0000

Charly's on the horse medicine now, for coccidiosis. It's 12 mL daily for 3 days, 10 days off, then repeat 3 days, then a stool check. It's tasteless (yes, the vet actually tasted it!) (she tastes all the meds) (is dog taste like ours? can't be -- they eat poop). It's a lot of volume, takes about 6 squirts into her lip pocket to get it all into her, but she doesn't mind, seems to think it's a treat. She hasn't had any reaction to it, except maybe some loss of appetite, though that could be due to all the excitement around here.

My son T came home from ten months in Thailand on Sept. 1, is staying a couple of weeks with me before heading to Phoenix where he has part-time work awaiting him and oodles of friends. Charly has done a bit of floor piddling, due to being half scared of him and half in love with him (I call him her new toy), and also due to my attention being distracted a lot more than usual. Training has lapsed a bit in several areas.

Before T's arrival we had two short walks with the prong collar and short leash. Charly is not happy. I feel bad for her, but I can see that letting her wander around and sniff everywhere on the retractable leash contributes to her sense of running the show and works against her recognizing me as "in charge" of her. So, grudgingly, I've been won over to proper leash training. Our first time with prongs, I hadn't yet found info on how tight/loose it should be, so it was loose, but it still worked, preventing her from pulling. She did the two-legged dance a couple of times, was mad at me, refusing treats and not looking at me. The next day I removed a couple more links to get it snug, though it doesn't actually stay up behind her ears. Her neck is pretty much the same thickness down a ways. Also, I paid more attention to using the "snap" correctly, or I should say I tried to, as I'm not that good at it yet. I also started out with the leash attached to her harness and only switched to the prong collar after the first incident of pulling. When I switched back to the harness after she was doing okay, she kept doing okay until we got close to home. When she started the pulling, I immediately switched to the prong collar, which immediately changed her behavior. Still clearly resentful, but what can she do but frown and refuse my affections?

So we were making progress, but training has lapsed with all the busyness of having company. I find it hard to maintain normal routines with us shooting off here and there, including a long drive up to Bellevue WA, east of Seattle (3 hrs each way) to look at a motorcycle. I'm glad to report that Charly does great on car rides, harnessed in the back seat, mostly sleeping, happy to get out after 3 hours to walk around, pee, drink, but not at all interested in her midday meal.

Yes, T wants a used motorcycle (cheaper insurance & better gas mileage & besides it's one of those "always wanted" things) instead of a car. He rode motorbikes in Thailand (automatic transmission), loved it and has wanted a motorcycle for so long (and now regrets he wouldn't let me teach him stick shift when he first learned to drive, haha), and has done so much research, knows the exact model he wants, and found such a good deal... Yeah, I know all about the safety issues & stats, and yes I'm squeamish, but he's old enough to make his own decisions, but I'm still in control of the money and could refuse, etc., = ambivalence. The bike (Kawasaki 650) is at a Harley dealership, a trade-in, 2006 w/ very low mileage. He bargained the price down and we resisted salesman tricks to get us to buy on the spot and were able to put a hold on it with a refundable deposit and come home again to be really sure. T has signed up for a 3-day motorcycle safety class here in Portland next weekend to enable him to get a license, but will have the bike shipped to Phoenix rather than ride there, reluctant to take a long freeway drive right off the bat, cautious, which is good.

T goes for a run every morning while I sit on my ass, yoga classes suspended until Sept. 18 but that's no excuse. I could go to Bally's.