Morning Walk

I'm starting to love mornings. Perhaps it's the solitude. Perhaps it's because I get to wake up and get my brain warmed up in silence. I like sunrises over sunsets, I love to watch the world wake up, I love the first tones of morning birdsong.

Okay. That's all the poetic musing I can muster for now.

I was up by 7 today. Even though I do have a hard time waking up, once I'm finally (mostly) conscious, I do appreciate the chance to start my day quietly.

So I did my devotions and wrote a bit (I got a new notebook yesterday!). Sasha was stirring just past 8, so I got dressed and headed down to get her up.

I've been trying to walk the dogs more often. Sad as it is, they don't go for walks nearly as often as they need to (as evidenced by Hershey perking up and getting excited when the very word is uttered). I took Sasha on a couple walks between the time we got her and around the time she turned 5 months, but only now have I actually made the effort to get her outside. For a while I was reluctant to take both of the dogs at once, though I did feel bad when Hershey missed out. But now that we found his old harness, it's easier.

Still, I debated about whether I should get Hershey up and take them together, or do Sasha first and get Hershey later. Eventually I had to admit to myself that the chances of me taking Hershey later were slim. My motivation level kind of dwindles as the day goes on.

So I slipped into the girls' room (and had to capture Sasha before she jumped on Heather's face) and called for Hershey to get up. He was curled up next to Allenna and looked determined to stay there. Then I asked if he wanted to go on a walk. He shot up faster than I thought possible and hurried out of the room, even skipping his ritualistic morning stretch.

I told him to wait while I ran Sasha outside. She was almost ready to go back in when we heard a noise in the yard next door. Some little black terrier was yapping at us. I don't think I've seen him before. Sasha growled a bit, gave a little bark, and eventually ran back to the house.

Hershey was still pacing around excitedly, and Sasha has somehow learned the difference between me getting ready to leave and me getting ready to take her walking. It can't be how Hershey acts, because when we're leaving he automatically assumes he's coming with us, so he's just as excited.

So I had two dogs in my face while I got my boots on.

Suddenly, Hershey wasn't so excited. One, he had just realized that she was coming with us. Two, he was going to have to wear that nasty head harness. Believe me, if I didn't have to, I wouldn't subject him to the great humiliation, but we've tried going without it and he pulls like he has a dog sled behind him and the 5 other dogs are sitting inside.

I finally got the dogs settled and sitting at the door waiting for me to open it. Hershey hung back while Sasha kept inching forward. I opened the door and stepped out, Sasha on my heels. Hershey wouldn't move.

Dejected is the only word to describe how he looked: head down, ears drooping, eyes pitiful. But I gave the leash a tug and he slowly came out.

Then commenced a round of "Who's following whom?" I'm sure it wasn't me.

We got to the end of the road and saw another dog and owner wandering through the park. It was the neighbor who tried to help our Dexter dilemma, along with his old golden retriever. I pulled up the dogs and had them sit, because if they were walking it would have only been after the poor old dog. Hershey whined and Sasha barked a little. Then they were gone and we were on our way.

Sasha may not have learned to follow me when we're walking, but one thing she has learned to do without fail: sit when I stop moving. And I stopped quite a bit to get the blood flowing again in my hand. Much more of this and my left arm will soon be as strong as my right. (I walk Sasha on the left and Hershey on the right.)

Hershey trotted along beautifully, if a little ahead of me. Sasha dug in and tried to pull the entire time. She also tried to set the pace at a run, though I managed to hold her down to a quick walk. Through the park, around the corner, and back across the park to home again was all we did (I'm still not brave enough to wander the neighborhood alone, even if I have Hershey the tough-looking dog). Even so, I had worked up a sweat by the time we got home, and my shoulder is aching.

I offered the dogs some food, but they wanted to go out, so I put them in the kennel. Here's the thing. Sasha, being the socialite that she is, hates being alone in the kennel. If Hershey isn't with her, it's hard to get her in, and she won't stay for long. Hershey, on the other hand, refuses to go in the kennel if Sasha's there. However, he makes an exception in the morning, so they sat out there while I wrote most of this.

Now, while they're fairly calm, I think I ride the exercise bike for a bit and do some more writing. Too bad I can't write and ride at the same time.

Dog Walks and Family History

Thursdays always seem like a long day. It's not like I do a lot of physical work; it's just that I'm used to being home most of the day with the dogs, doing chores and writing (or at least pretending to be busy). And it's not even that I get up any earlier on Thursdays than any other day except Sunday.

I was up at 7(ish...) to do my devotions and start getting ready before I had to get Sasha up. I try (not very hard, usually) to get her out of bed early on Thursdays so she has a chance to run around and eat before it's back in the crate for 6 hours.

Of course, today she decided she didn't want to eat. She's either sick or going through some sort of reverse growth spurt. I don't know. Also, she picks up on the ritual we all go through before we leave the house and was repeatedly putting herself in her crate and waiting for us to leave.

So she went to her crate without breakfast. Not my problem.

We dropped the girls off at co-op, and then Mom and I headed out to a city about 15 minutes from there to do some errands. Normally we sit at the church until it's time for the classes we teach; I'm glad I could skip that today.

Back to the church for a little sitting around and chatting until physical science. We had an experiment involving a bottle rocket, but it failed. Twice. I was sad.

Then off to routes. Wonder of wonders, the papers were already printed and waiting for us! At 12! Still, we weren't done until around 3. Then we got the girls and headed home.

The dogs were acting antsy, so I decided to take them on a walk. Before his head harness, we had a regular harness for Hershey that somewhat kept him from pulling. I decided to use it on Sasha, since it was too small for Hershey and he needed the head harness.

It was just a quick trot around the park, but man was it tiresome. Both dogs were tugging to be in the lead. The harness kind of worked for Sasha (she wasn't choking and gasping for breath, and she didn't spend half the time rolling around on the ground trying to get something off her nose) but she really needs to be taught to heel and let me lead. Maybe with some practice....

Then I sat down to check stuff on the computer and write this post. However, I got distracted when I saw ancestry.com was offering free viewing of the 1930 census! Excitement ensued, and I started searching relatives.

I learned that I am 1/8 Danish. Dad's always talked about how we had Danish in us, but I never learned which ancestor(s) were Danish. Now I know. My great-grandpa's wife was born in Denmark. That made my youngest sister happy. (She's taking German at the co-op.) Now to find the Native Americans somewhere in the family tree....

Oh, Look! Another Pointless Post. Oops.

People.

Something big has happened.

I mean HUGE!

It'll blow your socks off.

Okay, so maybe it's not that big to you, but it's big to me: my sister got a blog.

No, not the sister that's a writer. The one that doesn't write at all. The one who doesn't even really like reading. Folks, this is nigh unto a miracle.

Okay, I'll stop picking on her. I'm just happy, and a wee bit excited. Welcome to Blogsphere, Puffin Muffin!

I have nothing else to say.

No. Really. Right now I ought to be editing. I started a group on facebook to post my superhero story. I said I would post twice a week. It's been a week and I haven't added any new scenes. My friends are threatening to pull out the pitchforks and torches. (Well, maybe they haven't, but that's the vibe I'm getting.) I made a promise to post at least one scene today. I haven't done it yet, and I have about an hour before I have to get ready for church.

Aaaaand now my sister wants to watch Lost. I think I'll sneak upstairs to work. I haven't spent quiet time in my room in forever because of Sasha. Who, by the way, is acting strangely angelic lately. I think she's sick.

Yup. I'm done.

Wow. That was sadly brief.

Warning: This Post is Pointless.

Uhg. Nothing to say.

And yes. I'm a day late. Again.

....

Okay, it's official: I'll take a full grown dog over a puppy any day. I know, I'm an idiot, but this puppy really is testing - and destroying - my mental and emotional fortitude. It's not all her fault. She's actually mellowed out a bit since her arrival. Maybe it's because I'm taking her on walks now. (Okay, I've taken her on two in the last week.) Maybe she's just giving me the silent treatment because I made her wear the head harness we got Hershey a couple years ago. Without it, she pulls and almost suffocates herself in her eagerness to explore. With it, she pouts and glares at me.

Yup. I hold the status of "mom" in her mind: controlling, demanding, and less patient than all the rest of the household members, minus the cat. (No, Mom, I'm not suggesting anything about you. I love you!) I also clean up all of her messes, feed her, wash her, put her to bed and tuck her in (ie, give her Mr. Teddy and pull down the towels over her crate), get up early to take care of her, and beat her when she's not playing nice with the other kids. And somehow my brother thinks he deserves her more than I do. Right. After all the effort I've put in, I'm not giving her away.

Sorry. I'm rambling and Melody is reading over my shoulder so I can't concentrate. 'Spose it's time to practice my writing-in-any-and-all-conditions.

A friend of mine recently wrote me into a story of hers. Yeah. I'm a daredevil who travels the world. According to her, I fought bulls in Spain, climbed the Eiffel Tower, and got a window seat for my gypsy wagon from an Arabian prince. My alter ego is way more exciting than myself.

The real me has spent a lot of time lately plotting my story. Yeah, not the important one I've been working on for three years. No, not that one. Why on earth would I be working on that one?

Help. I'm going crazy and myself is the one driving the bus. And I don't have a passport, and one cannot reenter the US of A without one. So I'm stuck.

Okay. I really am just spouting nonsense. Pain. But hey, I'm blogging twice a week, and that's better than I've done in a while. However, I think I'll stop now.

Oh! We got snow! Yeah, deadly snow. I wanted it, but not like this.

Okay. Now I'll go.

Dexter (and YELLOW!)

WARNING: excess links below. Only click if you need to waste some time. They're really not all that grand.

For starters, let me just state that I have recently developed an obsession with the color yellow. (Okay, so maybe "obsession" is a little too strong a word, but a more accurate synonym escapes me. And yes, when I informed my mom of this last week, she, too, gave me a funny look. "Yellow?") Maybe it's because I'm feeling a bit sunshine-deprived (although we have had some fairly sunny days of late). But it's such a happy color! (Yellow Brick Road, anyone?) Yellow is summer and laughter and flowers and lemons! (Okay, so I don't really like lemons, but they're still bright and perky.) Stick a yellow bandana on a puppy and instantly it's like "Hey! I'm a friendly guy. Come give me kisses!"(Which is probably why my dog does not wear yellow.)

Yeah, yellow is traditionally the color of cowards, but I think that's totally unfair. To me, it's more like happiness.

*cough*

Okay, I'm done.

My real reason for coming here was to relate the adventure I had yesterday. (I know, I was supposed to post yesterday. Things happened and I eventually didn't have the time. I'm sorry. But I'm here now.)

It was probably about 2 or a little later when Hershey started going berserk about something outside. Like high-pitched whining, yapping, and eventually all-out barking. Sasha didn't know what to think and was pacing back and forth whimpering.

I finally noticed and went to see what was going on. There was a dog pacing in the road in front of our house. Mom and Wes had just pulled in and were calling the dog over to them. I hurried outside (barefoot, of course).

The dog was a bit timid and trotted back and forth around Mom, Wes, and the car. I coaxed him over to me and got ahold of his collar.

He didn't have any tags or any other form of identification. Just a collar. (Green camo, if you're wondering.) He seemed friendly enough, so I started petting him. He was a pit bull, about the same height as Hershey, white except for patches on his face and ears and a couple spots on his tail.

Wes said he'd never seen the dog before, and the rest of us agreed. Living so close to the "park", we see a lot of dogs walk by. So we started wondering what to do.

Long story short, we got an extra leash, I took Mom's shoes and got my coat, and Wes and I headed off to ask some people if they'd ever seen the dog.

We didn't knock on many doors. Most people weren't very pleasant and told us to just take the dog to the shelter and be done with it. Fine. If your dog gets out, I'll do that.

We found one guy who was nice enough. He thought the dog looked familiar but said it wasn't from his street. ("They have a black dog. They have a beagle. They don't have any dogs. He has a cat....") He eventually shrugged and said his neighbor (who has a golden retriever) knew who had what dogs and could help us, but he wasn't home. So we gave him Mom's number and our address and headed down the street to a house he had indicated. (The lady there didn't want to talk. I think she was mad about me making her dog bark. She's the kind of person who wouldn't buy coupons.)

We were heading home when the friendly guy's neighbor pulled in, so we went to talk to him. He said he'd seen the dog running loose a while ago and that a boy had come and got it, and he pointed in the direction he thought he'd seen them go. It was a general location, but Wes and I weren't going to lead a strange dog down all of it. (Oh. At one point a couple drove by. We'd been watching for someone driving along looking for their dog, and as these people were smiling and staring at us we did the same to them. They drove on by without a word. I felt like an idiot.)

So we started back for home, numb and out of ideas. Wes went inside to talk to Mom and I sat outside with the dog, who was now licking my face, all shyness gone.

Then I heard shouting. It sounded like the same name over and over, along with the occasional whistle. It was coming from the direction opposite of which we'd been told the dog probably belonged, but I called Mom outside. She'd been on the phone with the Humane Society asking if any missing dogs had been reported.

Mom agreed we should go looking for whoever was shouting, so we hopped in the car, me in the back with the dog.

They were standing at the end of a dead end road just past the Inconvenience Store shouting and whistling: an older woman and three kids. Mom asked if they were looking for a dog. They saw him in the backseat and nodded, looking unhappy. (They'd been shouting "Dexter", not "Samson" as I'd guessed.) The woman undid the leash and they all headed for the house, she giving me a curt "thank you" over her shoulder. We headed home, me feeling satisfied. Good deed for the week: check. (Haha.) Now I'm even more determined to teach our dogs to come when called and to stay nearby at all times. Somehow....

Take Time to Smile

(Note: While I am posting this on Saturday, techinically most of it was written on Friday. It's just that facebook was down so I couldn't get one of the links I needed.)

(My aunt posted this on facebook today, and I just love it.)

In a land of perpetual gray, sunshine looks quite alien. There isn't even any white snow to offset the varying shades of gray: gray-yellow grass, bare gray trees, heavy gray clouds.

Yesterday on routes, I had settled in for anther gray day. The upside was learning to deliver in yet another new car. This time, it's a manual: hence, all Mom can do is drive and shove the occasional paper into a tube. (Not that I ever ask her to help, anyway, but now she can't even reach out to stop papers from sliding off the dash.)

A little more than half-way through, there was a change. What's this? Sunshine...?

Yes, I got teary-eyed. Sunshine! And look! A patch of blue sky in the distance.

And then I turned around and realized the entire sky in that direction was pretty much all blue.

How I had missed it before, I don't know. As I said, "I was too busy looking at the gray; I didn't even notice the blue." Mom commented on how philosophical that was.

Yes, I suppose it is a bit philosophical, and strangely suitable. Just a few days ago, Dad posted this link on facebook. (Well, kind of. The thing he posted didn't actually have a link, but this is the same story. Google is amazing like like that.) To quote the story, "In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? If so, do we stop to appreciate it?"

I've noticed I tend to focus on the negative things in life. I'm more inclined to the pessimistic, glass-half-empty, guilty-until-proven-innocent perspective. Hence I no longer color outside the lines. I don't sing out loud in the middle of everyday life when other people are looking on. (Well, not normally. Sometimes my family will hear me burst into song.) I get lost in my own little world and the next thing I know, I'm whacking someone in the face as I put on my coat or I've failed to greet the visitors or I come off as a proud snot or awkward social outcast.

That's what this blog is about: enjoying my life by finding beauty in everything. But that hasn't come up a lot on here, has it? Most of the time I hurry along with my head down or my thoughts wandering. Too often I forget to pause, take a breath, look around, and smile. I miss the little things that make me smile and bring sunshine on the darkest days.

(Ironically, rain really makes me happy. I'm hoping for rain for my birthday.)

On Saturday:

I was up early for routes, as Heather had yet again gone to a friend's house. The moon, maybe three-quarters full, hung low in the sky. I'd forgot my glasses, so it wasn't very clear, but I could tell it was beautiful. The clouds had cleared and I could see the stars. The sunshine that appeared as we were finishing was breathtaking in it's simplicity.

Now the sky is a brilliant blue, with puffy clouds drifting along. It was a frosty morning, but now that the sun is well up (it's just past 11), there's birdsong.

I'm noticing all this because it's the first time any of this but the frost has occurred in at least a week. It's a change. And I've recently made an effort to become more aware of my surroundings. But how long will it take for me to drift back into life and ignore these little things that, for the moment, make me "feel all warm and fuzzy", and my youth pastor would say?

When it's not an appropriate time, will I make time - even three seconds - to pay attention?