Random thoughts....1%

Tonight is an evening for random thoughts.

Thought 1: I came home this evening to the grackles. For some reason, they fly in groups at this time of the year. They land in fields creating a blanket of dark, chattering birds. Then they take off....they were flying over the house and I could hear their wings beating. It sounded like something out of a bad movie. What makes them fly in such large groups?

Thought 2: One in 100 US adults is currently behind bars according to an article in the New York Times. Good Gravy! I mentioned this article to co-workers....one pointed out the sad point that 5:100 should probably be behind bars.....There is always a realist in the group. It all seems like such a waste. Where are we going wrong? According to the article, violent crimes have dropped in the past 20 years. Somehow, it doesn't feel that way. Perhaps, the connectivity of our current society (through TV/Internet) is making the violence more visible.

Thought 3: Dogs can be the best medicine for what ails us. That is not a news flash, but when all seems topsy turvy in the world, they are always there with their smiles. These are fast dirty pictures from this evening (after the birds flew over), but .....tell me that dogs don't really smile!

Hug your hounds and your humans!

The Unexpected Journey

I find "blogging" interesting in many different ways. I read very amusing blogs where people have created anonymity by using altered names. I read blogs that have all identifying features listed. I am not certain who reads my blog. I created this is an outlet. I fear it will be somewhat bipolar -- the dogs and my photography are my fun side. The rest of my life is far too serious.

There are times when I want to write about life -- however, I do live in a small town where EVERYONE is related (seriously). Although it is easy to poke fun at the place in which one resides, I do love living here. It would be a great town to raise kids. No GPS or other surveillance needed because, from what I hear at parties, everyone knows what everyone else's children are doing. It is a community where people take care of their own. The sense of caring is far greater than I ever found in the Big City.

Writing about my family....well, I have a private family. One just doesn't do THAT – air dirty laundry. However, today, for some reason, I feel compelled. I found a journal that I started but didn't continue 18 months ago. It was the start of our current journey. Perhaps the failure to continue that journal is why I started the blog.

August 6, 2006

The e-mail was a simple one. “Because of reduced lung function, Dr. Kidd ordered a chest x-ray. It showed a lump. He has ordered another test that will be done this week.” (Note that my parent’s e-mailed me this information….)

A lump on a chest x-ray. The benign sounding interpretation of my non-medical parents was like a stone dropping into still waters….disturbing what had been a smooth surface far from where it broke the surface.

The diagnostics continued. A CT scan was done – it showed that lump. A 2.7 cm non-calcified speculated mass in the left upper lobe with associated hilar lymphadenopathy. Non-specific pulmonary nodules scattered here and there. My partners tried to reassure me – it was all just “pulmonary snot.” Not the dreaded metastatic disease that I feared. It couldn’t be. My father is young. He had an odd smattering of medical problems. A cardiac arrhythmia that had required ablation and subsequently dissolved into a-fib. A complete cardiac evaluation several years prior had shown a preserved EF with clean coronary arteries. Yes, my father had a good heart, a strong heart that I expected to beat for the 90 plus years that both of his parents had lived. His sister is 89. He is only 69. He has that neuropathy that no-one could decipher. He is not a diabetic. Had that been the first rumbling of the under-tow? A paraneoplastic syndrome that was manifesting years before the cancer?

Dad was next sent to a pulmonologist to continue the evaluation. I was feeling frustrated. The path to diagnosis seemed to be taking forever, although I knew that this was the course that many of the patients coming to me took. Meet the pulmonologist, set up more tests (a PET scan). I could have facilitated the work – gotten the answer within a week instead of the evaluation that dragged into a nearly 3 week period. My partners reassured me that it wouldn’t make any difference. I knew that, the under-tow was lurking in those seemingly still waters, threatening to take away my father.

The PET scan was performed. As anticipated, that lump – that evil 2.7 cm spiculated lesion - lit up, as did that hilar node. However, the under tow was gaining strength. An L3 vertebral body had “intense metabolic activity, concerning for metastatic disease giving the above findings.” How could this be? My father was asymptomatic. How could this be? He had been a life long non-smoker, grown up in a house of life long non-smokers. This was not right. This was not fair. But how many times have I told my patients, wondering at some lot that they have been given, that “life has no guarantees; it is not fair?”

I was able to go to my parent’s town for my father’s visit with his medical oncologist. I didn’t tell him that I worked in the field, initially….that came out later. Dad’s oncologist was kind enough to ask if I agreed with the recommended regimen. I told him, “I am here as a daughter….I am too emotionally involved to make a recommendation.” I wonder what he sees when he looks at us. My father, a man of few words, with twitching feet because it hurts to sit on hard surfaces. My mother, palpably anxious, but hiding her tears. Me – a colleague trying not to be sucked under by the force that was growing about my family—smiling, making small talk about the burden of Medicare, wanting to ask him to take extra special care of this man who is my father, wanting to tell him that I expected no miracles – that I knew the power of the current and that there was only a trial and error, moving through regimens, hoping that this uncontrolled growth of cells would be polite enough to respond.

I know too well the journey that my family has begun. This is not the journey that we have chosen, but one we take out of necessity. At this point, there is no other path. I try not to tell my parents too much about this road. I know the path is not lit, that changes in direction can occur without warning. I want them to have hope, not realize that for too many, the path is far shorter than one anticipates. Part of me hates that Dad has to take chemo. He is asymptomatic now, but so often, chemo invokes symptoms.

I prepared my parents for what I thought would be the inevitable. The oncologist said those words "this is treatable but not curable." Our journey has been longer than anticipated. My father has been traveling his road for 19 months . The cancer initially responded to chemotherapy but Dad tolerated the chemo very poorly requiring transfusions of both blood and platelets. Now, he has been on a chemo holiday for about 8 months. At each look, the cancer has grown more. My partners tell me that Dad obviously has an "indolent cancer." I have seen these indolent cancers do their thing: they lurk and then suddenly wreak havoc. It doesn't always happen that way, but ..... my life is filled with a dread of the inevitable.

I do not know how much longer the journey will continue. We have already been blessed beyond expectations. However, despite the fact that there is only slow disease growth on scans, the cancer is taking it’s toll. My father is no longer active. My mother has learned to be active despite his inactivity of her life mate. They were high school sweethearts – I don’t think either one of them had a serious relationship outside of their coupling. I fear the gap that my father’s death will create. The best thing that I have done through this whole thing is be there to listen. The 2nd best thing: I gave them a dog. Emma is the clown that this serious situation needed.

Hug your hounds. Love your humans. Sorry for the word spew. It's been one of those weeks. And it is only Tuesday.

Fun Monday #5

Mariposa has asked us to share a) the origin of our blog name and b) our favorite/most common dish. I am assuming that she knows that the most common dish in the house is NOT the most favorite dish.

The origin of Ragracers......About 9 years ago (has it been THAT long?), I obtained my first whippet. I have always loved dogs. Because of my educational path, I had not gotten a dog (being a responsible person) even though I had always said that I would grow up and have two English Sheepdogs to lay by the fireplace. When I decided that I had delayed gratification and that it was time to get a dog, I chose the whippet rather than the English Sheepdog realizing that the athletic dog would better fit my lifestyle.

Although my first two whippets were obtained with only the goal of having a pet that would jog with me, I became hooked on racing them after about a year of whippet ownership. If one researches whippet racing, one will find that back in the early 19th century, it was called rag racing. Rather than chase a lure as we do today, the dogs were enticed down the field by having a person at the other end wave a rag. Since I live with a bunch of rag racers, that is my blog name. Now, the sympathy play (grin). The most common dish in my house:
Anyone want to take me home? Feed me real food? Yup. That's it. Pretty convenient. Somewhere in my life, I think at age 10, I decided that peanut butter is a core food group. That has persisted into my adult life. The peanut butter on bagel kick is VERY convenient -- once prepared, I can eat it on the road (there really aren't a lot of sit down meals in my house). Since moving to Smalltown TX I have had to made some adjustments. There are no bagel shops here (insert horror scream; we did just get a Starbucks, although I have never needed that sort of caffeine boost in my life). I have found that these whole wheat bagels are the least card-board like of any bagel that I can buy....but the advantages of living in Smalltown TX far outweigh the insult to my gustatory sensibilities (BTW, I am one of those vegetarians living smack dab in the middle of ranch country. I don't publicize that a whole lot. When my eating preferences do come out, I get some interesting responses: "You do eat chicken, right?" Oh, yeah....chicken, that OTHER vegetable group!).

Anyway, for those of you who might want a fun recipe:

TOFU CHILI

1 lg. onion, chopped
1 cup diced celery
1 lg. Clove garlic, minced
1 can (28 oz.) tomatoes
1 can (8 oz.) tomato sauce
1 Tbsp. chili powder
1 tsp. cumin
½ tsp. oregano
½ tsp. thyme
salt & pepper to taste
1 tofu (20 oz.) cubed
2 cans (16 oz). red kidney beans, drained
Spray a 4 quart sauce pan with nonstick cooking spray. Saute onion, celery and garlic until tender. Stir in all other ingredients, cover & simmer for an hour.

This is a fun recipe, but rarely made.....

Thanks for stopping by. Go enjoy the others having fun this week.

1. Tracey 2. Yummy 3. ellen b 4. Cynthia 5. Rachel 6. Jenni 7. Gabriel 8. mamalang 9. Our Happy Happenings 10. Jan 11. Alison 12. Nekked Lizard Man 13. janet 14. Linda 15. Lisa 16. carrie 17. Ivana 18. Sayre 19. Michelle 20. Heather 21. Irish Coffehouse 22. SwampAngel65

23. My4kids 24. min 25. rotten correspondent 26. abby 27. Kaytabug 28. Aoj & The Lurchers 29. Hootin' Anni 30. BS 31. chrisb 32. Celeste 33. Tien 34. Maria 35. Sauntering Soul 36. mem 37. Jientje/Heaveninbelgium 38. lisa's chaos 39. Karina 40. Peter 41. Sandy 42. Gattina 43. IamwhoIam 44. Monica

45. nikki 46. Swampy 47. Willowtree 48. David 49. Ann 50. Joy T. 51. jill 52. Robinella 53. Pamela 54. Lana G! 55. faye 56. Robin (PENSIEVE) :) LOVE IT 57. Arkansas Songbird 58. ari_1965 59. Tiggerlane 60. Amanda 61. Junebug 62. Kim 63. Jo Beaufoix 64. You're next!

Those Special Kitties

I jog.

I jog for many reasons. Health, fitness, the fitness of my dogs, AND sanity maintenance . When I don't run, the world, which is pretty danged depressing at baseline becomes over-whelming. Sometimes, life in the "Bucket List Inducement Field" sucks. The jogging helps me process that frustration. When I don't run, I tend to succumb to viral illnesses....I have a theory for that effect, but that's for another post.

Now, I have a few dogs. ALL of them love these morning jogs except for the sick old man Darby. He prefers to stay at home under a blanket, and given his problems, he deserves it. I always have a hard time leaving one or two behind.....those brown eyes staring at me with their tails wagging (or in the case of Mati, helicoptering.....). How can one leave one behind (and when I do, I hear the howls of disappointment).

How to run with all these dogs? Well, having whippets apparently induces some sort of cognitive disorder in all of their servants....we come up with similar ideas. I decided, as so artfully told by Patience, that I would attach their leashes to a belt around my waist. That way, I could have hands free running. Tada!

Now, as Patience experience tells, this sort of a get up is prone to sudden changes in velocity on the part of the walker or, in my case, jogger. I have learned to scan the horizon, looking for squirrels and bunnies that my prompt this sudden change spatial orientation. During RoadKill season (early spring) I scout out all the recent kills on my way home so that I can navigate around them on the following morning run. Nothing like having a whippet scoop up fresh (or not so fresh) road kill. The whippets tend not to want to release it, and I have this absolute phobia about touching dead wildlife. I run early in the morning, before most of the creatures are stirring to try to minimize the chances that I will become air-borne (or roadside ditch decorations).

Recently, I have not been jogging. I injured my heel (likely during one of those sudden changes in velocity during which I try to put on the brakes before I assume the horizontal airborne position). This had all sorts of fall-out. I got sick. I became depressed (see paragraph 1). Once I am off the running circuit, it's hard to get back into it because the mornings are COLD right now (or at least cold for these parts).

This week has been a good week. I am getting my groove back. I ran every morning except for Tuesday. The viral haze is beginning to lift, although the allergic cloud still has a full grip (being in my head is not fun; I am praying that those allergy shots will soon start doing more than giving me big goose eggs on my extremities once a week).

Wednesday, I took out all five runners (Charlie, Reilly, Hudi, Mati and Gabi). Having read Patience's experience, I know better than to take out SEVEN dogs. I only take five! I was feeling good. (If I am really tired I take 4 dogs). Sometimes, in my running zone, I ponder....I ponder all sorts of things....the serious....the mundane....my mind goes lots of places....that's part of what helps my sanity maintenance. I think about work. I pound out the frustrations of work. I think about nothing, too. During that thinking period I have calculated that I have more whippet weight attached to my waist than I have body weight. The dogs outweigh me by about 40 pounds when all 5 run with me.

Anyone who owns whippets will also tell you (and this may be a reflection of the group cognitive disorder), that whippets DO NOT OBEY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS. Nope. They are a very special breed. Put a whippet in bed with you, , and this sweet 32 pound of flesh suddenly weighs 150 pounds. They can not be budged once they hit a human bed. If said whippet falls asleep on top of you, it weighs 250 pounds. Put a whippet on a leash attached to your belt, said whippet can drag at LEAST 3 times it's weight in dead weight. Not selling you a bridge across the dessert on that one. I have 170 pounds of whippet attached to my waist during my jog; therefore, I have a force capable of pulling 510 pounds of dry weight somewhat permanently attached to my waist. If you didn't go read the link at Patience's site, I do think you should be beginning to understand what my morning jobs are occasionally like: sudden changes in velocity to a speed much faster than I can run, which then induces the change in orientation (from vertical to horizontal), which then occasionally induces the change in my appearance.

Wednesday morning, I was having a good run. The heel that had sidelined me for 3 weeks wasn't hurting that much, the weather was cool but not cold, the dogs were behaving. Then, before I spotted it, one of those SPECIAL KITTIES wanders out of the field. Dang it all. Nope. I am not talking about kitties that ride the short bus....I'm talking about those special kitties.....you know, the black ones with the white stripe.

The dogs start pulling. Remember that calculation?? They can pull 500 pounds and I weigh...well, less than THAT. I dig in my heels, leaning back, feeling the jarring force crush my knees, and my heel that was hurting suddenly screams obscenities at the rest of my body. The danged "kitty", on being confronted with 5 suddenly insane whippets doesn't turn around. It danged well starts waddling towards us. Great. A special kitty with rabies! Why else would a "special kitty" (SK) come TOWARDS 5 insane whippets? I am screaming "back, back!" The SK(unk) keeps coming toward us. We are slowly creeping toward the SK as my less than 500 pound frame is being unwilling dragged towards the SK(unk) which is now "wagging" it's tail. I am suddenly wondering if using my pepper spray will have any sort of deterrent effect on the SK(unk). Probably not -- spraying noxious material on a noxious animal, just means noxious. Might cause it to run at me and bite me....I am now totally convinced that it is rabid.

I summon all of my alpha bitch authority and scream "BAD DAWGS". My crew is momentarily stunned (Gabi "jeez, I think mom is really mad; maybe I should pay attention for 10 seconds"; Hudi "I never heard her sound like that; Please, please don't be mad"; Mati "momma, I love you, I love you, I'm sorry"). In that stunned instant, I manage to pull the dogs towards the Elks lodge, which, unfortunately, is a path straight into a ditch.

Now, I would have chosen another path, but I had also looked up to see a large pick up truck heading straight for us. I think he had seen the "special kitty" and didn't want to hit that with his truck (stinks them up for days) so was going to hit the crazy woman with 5 whippets -- one trip to car wash would probably remove the blood from the grill work.

In the country, men are, if nothing else, helpful after forcing your off the road. The pick up slows down, "Ma'am, what are you doing in the ditch? Do you need help." I cheerfully call back, "oh, I'm fine -- just trying to avoid the skunk! (and your 2 ton truck)". No problem.

Oh, no problem....I'm standing in a ditch. The five whippets had somehow managed to a do a rapid macreme trick on the way into the ditch so I can't move because the leashes are knotted around my body. Think mummified by leashes. It had rained the previous weekend. The ditch had about 6 inches of 40 degree water standing in it.

However, I was a) still vertical and b) not sprayed with Ode' de Special Kitty. The two ton pick up had scared the kitty into the opposite ditch. Really, I was just fine!A Special Kitty (SKunk)

Can anyone tell me if pepper spray will work on skunks?

Round Robin Photo Challenge

This is my first time to participate in the Round Robin Photo Challenge. The challenge this week is SHOES. We are being asked to photograph what it's like to walk in our shoes.

Well, my first picture was taken about 2.5 years ago. Running is one of my past-times, and dogs that run is a 2nd source of stress relief. Baby Hudi curled around my running shoe about sums it up! When she was a young pup, she loved my shoes (and later my socks; that pup has a tendency to un-pack suitcases with socks!).
Here are two more views of some of the "shoes" in my life:
And a black and white version:
I hope you all have enjoyed a picture of my "shoes". Go enjoy the rest of the participants!

Cars, dogs and laugh therapy

Anyone who involved in dogs suddenly finds that their choice in vehicle is dictated by their passion for dogs. When I got my first whippet Darby, I had a JUST purchased a two door Honda Civic (replacing my 10 year old Toyota Corolla ). I loved the Civic, too, but rapidly found that it was NOT a dog friendly car. The car looked something like this, except it was white. I could assemble a crate in the back seat, but that meant putting the crate in the back and then assembling it. That was fine when it was only Darby, but a year later, Charlie came, and two years after that Reilly.

I was at a place in my life when I couldn't afford to get a new car, just because I had 3 dogs. It may not look like it, but FOUR unassembled crates can fit into the trunk of a two door Honda Civic. Bag containing racing gear could be stuffed beside the crates. I looked something like a circus act with what seemed to be an impossible number of dogs spilling out of the car when we arrived at race meets, but it worked for us. Sort of. I became a 5 dog family while owning the Civic, but dog number 5 (Hudi) tipped us over the edge. Despite the fact that I always considered mini-vans the vehicle for soccer moms (no offense, I hope), I traded in the Honda Civic (only 5 years old) and purchased a Toyota Sienna. It seemed like the right thing to do.

I have always been "one with my car" (it's a state of mind thing). I loved my Toyota Corolla. It as a hatchback with a sun roof. It took me to beaches and up and down the California coast. When I couldn't sleep because my crazy neighbor was drunk and screaming through the walls, I would drive 101 with the sun roof down as an escape. I owned that car for 10 years -- I drove across the US (actually moved from Texas to CA and back again. I had 183,000 miles (with limited service; I was a broke student all those years!). I didn't even realize that it was driving badly until I purchased the Civic. The Honda Civic: t was new, sleek and white. I loved it, too; I never loved it as much as my Toyota Corolla, though (the first always has a special place). Packing for race meets made the Civic a pain. Although I could get 4 crates into the trunk, they were heavy and that process frequently left me with muscle strain and skinned knuckles.

The Sienna and has served us well. We have gone on multiple trips, and in 3.5 years have logged 75,000 miles. The van and I have NEVER bonded, though. Perhaps, it is that soccer mom image that I can't get out of my head. Perhaps, it is the fact that although I have owned this STUPID vehicle for 3 years, I still can't seem to get a grip on the turning radius. Something about sitting over the wheels -- I have turned that van into the side of concrete pillars several times in the below building parking area at the hospital. I hate those scratches. Also, although it is a van, it has proven to be a little bit cramped. I thought there would be so much more room, but there really isn't; especially since I have decided that the dogs deserve 400 rather than 300 sized crates....yup, a mini-van is MINI.

I have been reluctant to get a second vehicle. It seems a waste : having one business vehicle and one "Dog" vehicle. However, as my disenchantment with the van grows, I have finally realized that I should get a "work" car and leave the van as a dog car. I won't have to spend so much time in it. I am also hoping to have a "greener" vehicle (hybrid?). This morning, I started looking at the Toyota Prius. Looking online, not in person. I HATE car shopping with a passion. The question: could I get a crate or two in the hatchback. I would like for my work vehicle to be dog able....perhaps not for the whole groups but for a few dogs....see, having dogs means totally changing ones outlook on everything.

While doing my research, I found the following video. It is a 10 minute video, but certainly worth it if you have the time. Sorry, this may be offensive to owners of chihauhas. If I get a Prius, it won't be a blue one!


Having found this, my car research turned into a session of laugh therapy. I had never heard of Jeff Dunham, but he is a funny guy. All this while looking for information on a Toyota Prius. Isn't the internet age, great?

A time past....

Suzzanne over at Bizzyville posted a picture of her parents circa 1960.

Trying to recover/save old family slides has become a pet project of mine (that I haven't worked on for about 4 months. Here is a picture of my parents (married 50 years last December; high school sweethearts and everything....). I think this was taken about 1955. Check out the wall paper in the back!

Fun Monday #4 . Signs/things that make you smile.

SayreSmile is hosting this week's Fun Monday. "Every day as I go to work I see things around me that make me laugh. Usually, these are in the forms of signs. So take your camera with you as you go about your business and take a picture of the things that make you laugh along the way."

I live in SmallTown America (make that Small Town East Texas), and there isn't a LOT to see between home and work. That lack of distance between home and work is part of the reason that I moved here. Traffic jams occur at 7:30 am as parents take children to school and 12 noon on Sundays. That's it!

I wanted to take a picture of the Statue of Liberty person. Every tax season, some poor soul (probably earning minimum wage) dresses as the Statue of Liberty and frantically waves at people as they pass the Tax Service Place. These people dressed as the Statue look happy. Tax season starts January 1 and ends 4/15 which corresponds to the season for most inclimate weather. I consider them Brave Souls. Not a job I would want. Unfortunately, I missed the Statue when I went out Saturday (I was feeling allergic and didn't want to wait for them to come back from their potty break). Maybe next year. Although the Statue makes me smile, she does not make me want to take my taxes there.

So, I cheated just a little. On Fun Monday, not my taxes.

The following is outside of town about 5 miles and near the liquor store (NOT that I think there is a link..... I live in a dry county, by the way). This makes me smile every time I see it. I took pictures driving into town from the Big City.
"Ahhh," you say. "Tractors. Why, that is to be expected. She lives in SmallTown East Texas, after all."
But wait.....they multiplied!
There are at least 50 if not 100 rusted tractors, all facing the same direction. (I always get nervous when I stop for pictures of this so I never get a good count. For some reason, I figure the person owning all these tractors also owns a lot of guns. OK. Chances are the guns would be rusted, too, but I am not going to risk my life counting tractors.)
You think, "well, they need to have a junkyard for tractors, this is it!." Nope. The person who owns these tractors considers this some sort of museum for tractors, and is quite proud of them (or that's the story that my realtor told me 4 years, ago. Did I mention that I am gullible? Did I mention that is is only 1/2 mile from the liquor store?). However, despite the "museum" there is no sign declaring such and really, no explanation at all. If it is a junkyard for tractors it is a very neat one.

OK. An oddity on the way to SmallTown East Texas. But there is more.

A mere 1/4 mile down the road, this:

Yup. That's a plane, about to taxi onto the highway.

Please keep in mind that you have NOT YET REACHED THE LIQUOR store. I have lived in SmallTown East Texas for almost 4 years. Interestingly (or not), there used to be two planes. When I first moved , I figured that the Smiths were about to enter into a competition with the Jones' -- if the Jone's had a tractor collection well by Dog the Smiths were going to have an airplane collection! Seemed like a good explanation to me. The Realtor who explained the tractors failed to give me an explanation of the planes so I made this one up on my own. After moving here, I learned a much juicier story.

The plane is parked in front of an abandoned gas station. Behind that is a grass landing strip. The person who owned the strip was operating a flight school for, uhhhh, drug runners (big grin!). I assume he was also running drugs, himself, but I AM gullible.

Life was good for the SmallTown Flight School until the IRS caught wind. Now, how would the IRS catch wind of a flight school giving flying lessons to would be thugs?

The way the story goes.....(And this is a story. I would check it out on Urban Legends, but I live in the country so this is a Rural Legend. I am unaware of a corresponding web site to insure veracity.) Reportedly, the IRS caught wind because the the "Flight School" owner was deducting the cost of the plane for "religious purposes". I imagine that having a guy that owns a plane that looks like the one pictured teach you how to land and take off on a grass strip might be good for inducing religion even in the most skeptical of types (Gawd, please don't let me die, NOW!!!); however, this guy claimed he was holding religious services in the plane. (The Church of the Drug Runner??) I live in the Buckle of the Bible Belt. Anyone around here can tell you a plane THAT size ain' big enough for no religious service or revival. Amen.

There are a few other things in town that make me smile -- the two way streets that become One Way without warning (except at the intersection; the traffic planners obviously imbibed at the Liquor Store before the planning meeting). However, I think I am probably way beyond my word count for this FM.

Go enjoy the others that are participating.


As an aside, do you think the owner of the Flight School used the Statue of Liberty Tax Service to do his taxes? (See how nicely I tied that all together?....everything is related in Small Town East Texas. Really everything is related.).

Bad decisions...

Yesterday, my decision was a bad one. I packed the van and took the hounds to a location where intermittent thunderstorms were predicted. The racing happened (much to my surprise), sans storms, but my virus laden body just didn’t handle the experience well. Today, we are staying home. Yesterday, I blame the poor decision making on the anti-histamines. Of course, today when we stayed home there was no rain, but I still have not warmed up from yesterday.

I think that, by now, this viral thing should have run its course. However, I am a person whose immune system has gone wacky with age. I am allergic to EVERYTHING (or it feels that way). Expeditions into the great outdoors, even when everything is brown, wear me out and leave me itchy on congested. I think that the increased allergen exposure probably did me....or I am hoping that was the problem. I am taking shots for the allergies. Those can take months to kick in (OK, I have been doing them for months, but I still have hope).

The gang had a good, although muddy, time.

Reilly, after his single run. As he ages (he just had b-day #6), his cramping which I had controlled by diet seems to be getting worse, so he gets just one or two runs. He loves it, and the dirty boy that he is, he maximized his chance at getting dirty.

Hudi: Despite running 4 times she stayed relatively clean (Gabi ran only once because of her broken tail (sigh; another story) and Mati seemed to be off in the wet slime so a scratched her after two runs. You can see a little mud on the top of her head....but nothing like her brother Reilly.
Because of the rain (it didn't storm, but it was raining) I didn't get the camera out for action shots. I miss taking action shots.....

Fun Monday #3

Here's the assignment from Crown Princess for this week:
Music plays a vital role in most of our lives. It is everywhere. I want to hear the ONE song that is you. The song that whenever it is heard, you smile. I am not looking for the soundtrack of your life, just that one song. Your friends hear it and think of you. You can post the video, the lyrics, the wav file. However you want to post it is great.

At first, I was at a loss.... Today, while trying to find something that wouldn't tax a flu ravaged body (yeah, that vaccine didn't get it this year....), I found the song. I was introduced to the Indigo Girls by someone who took my heart and didn't quite give it back(OK, I did give my heart to him, but it felt like it was stolen). In hindsight, I should have known better than to have trusted. Regardless, this song makes me both laugh and cry. For me it carries the emotion of that love, the love lost, but also hope for a life's path that isn't straight. The chorus of this song says it for me: " up on the watershed standing at the fork in the road, you can stand there and agonize till your agony's your heaviest load. You'll never fly as the crow flies get used to a country mile. When you're learning to face the path at your pace every choice is worth your while." It's true -- the agony of indecision can be the most burdensome. My life has not followed the path that I planned, but in the end, I think that what I do now is my calling.

I found this picture montage on YouTube with the song as background music. These aren't my pictures...






Watershed

thought i knew my mind
like the back of my hand
the gold and the rainbow
but nothing panned out as i planned
and they say only milk and honey's
gonna make your soul satisfied
well i better learn how to swim
cause the crossing is chilly and wide

twisted guardrails on the highway
broken glass on the cement
a ghost of someone's tragedy
how recklessly my time has been spent
they say that it's never too late
but you don't, you don't get any younger
well i better learn how to starve the emptiness
and feed the hunger

up on the watershed
standing at the fork in the road
you can stand there and agonize
till your agony's your heaviest load
you'll never fly as the crow flies
get used to a country mile
when you're learning to face
the path at your pace
every choice is worth your while

and there's always retrospect
(when you're looking back)
to light a clearer path
every five years or so i look back on my life
and i have a good laugh
you start at the top
go full circle round
catch a breeze
take a spill
but ending up where i started again
makes me wanna stand still

up on the watershed
standing at the fork in the road
you can stand there and agonize
till your agony's your heaviest load
you'll never fly as the crow flies
get used to a country mile
when you're learning to face
the path at your pace
every choice is worth your while

stepping on a crack
breaking up and looking back
til every tree limb overhead just seems to sit and wait
til every step you take becomes a twist of fate

up on the watershed
standing at the fork in the road
you can stand there and agonize
till your agony's your heaviest load
you'll never fly as the crow flies
get used to a country mile
when you're learning to face
the path at your pace
every choice is worth your while

up on the watershed
standing at the fork in the road
you can stand there and agonize
till your agony's your heaviest load
you'll never fly as the crow flies
get used to a country mile
when you're learning to face
the path at your pace
every choice is worth your while

and when you're learning to face
the path at your pace
every choice is worth your while

words and music by emily saliers
copyright 1990 godhap music (bmi)

Don't forget to find out what the other Fun Monday posters find in their CD players

Another idea for those felines...

see more cute puppies and funny loldog pictures

Felonious felines.....

Our friends the Whippet Waggle in Paducah, KY are apparently under siege. It was all started, of course, by the &*(^&*!!$% cat, who used the computer to FALSIFY a photo, making it appear that our dear Patience had fallen under his spell. Crafty little critter.....gotta admit that, BUT this is the last straw.

Now, the Wayward Whippets here in TX are HORRIFIED by this latest development (In case you didn't follow the links, that dang ditsy dinsky cat, under the cover of a purse, smuggled into a PRIVATE party and video taped the thing. Not that there is anything horrific on the tape. It's principle here, people, PRINCIPLE.).

Now, we don't want our brethren and sisters to the north to think that they can't handle this troublesome FELINE, but, we are here to offer our services. We got on line and checked out the map:


View Larger Map

However, we anticipate a few problems.
1. Even though we are a van ready group, we haven't yet figured out how to make it go without the Servant. As you can see in this picture, Charlie gets SO excited that he is prone to pop out the top, but.....we may need the servant. And she is still ever so under the weather with the flu thing. Just not her usual self at all. We anticipate that when she is over the flu, she will have to go back to work. She works a lot. We think she should work less, but it's hard for her to get away, and that is a whole 'nuther topic.

2. Cost of gas. The Human Servant is always complaining that she has to work because "no one else is paying for kibble around here." Well, she does have a point on that one.

3. The Human Servant has told us that some of us (REILLY!) are a little over-zealous in our cat removal techniques and that brining such services to a community that probably still has a population of cats might create some sort of fall out with the neighbors. Apparently, some people actually LIKE cats. Our Servant used to have one -- we never did quite understand that attraction, but we like to humor our servant because she is good to us.

Hmmmm.....Well, right now we seem to be in a little planning impasse. Maybe we can terrorize ditsy dinsky from afar...YEAH!Yeah, we could start a letter writing campaign and muck with that Kandinsky's limited feline brain.....but, there is something about not using the US Post for terrorist tactics or something, right? Hmmmmm.

Those kitty's are so danged crafty.....thinking, thinking, thinking......Kandinsky, beware...

Gabi, appointed scribe for Wayward Whippets.

It's all about me.

Hey, Gang. It's me Gabi, the Girl Goober, reporting.

I am the self appointed scribe of this motley crew of whippets. Actually, I'm a self appointed Queen B of this bunch. Dogs do it much better than humans: we don't hold a grudge, we believe in unconditional love, and we don't do elections (you humans and your elections are CRAZY).

Our servant is under the weather. She has the "flu." She did take the vaccine. Apparently, this year that vaccine didn't work, and she is testimony to that fact. Muscle aches and pains, lethargy, sore throat, stuffed up nose, inability to think and blog: that's my servant at the moment.

Enough about her. It's about me!

Now, if you noticed in our introduction, I am the middle whippet of this gang. Although middle children have been known to have "issues" I have overcome all of them with the simple outlook on life, "it's about moi." I'm a benevolent queen, but I AM the queen, and the others don't forget that. I'll write about them some other time....maybe. But today, I have chosen to write about me. (You guys don't really want to know about the others, do you??)

I was born about 3 1/2 years ago in the PNW. My mom Nosey told me that I was an extra Special Girl, and she picked me as her favorite. That's probably what has allowed me to do so well in life. Unfortunately, Nosey forgot to tell her servant that I was the one who was supposed to stay (she assumed that the Servant would be able to tell that I was the Special One, but the Servant, being only human, didn't get the message). The human servant chose my brother Griz (the boy Goober). Among my list of attributes is adaptability. My current servant had fallen in love with me through pictures, and even though she lived a long way from Nosey's servant, she flew all the way to PNW to pick me up. I could tell immediately she was smitten with me, and that I would be able to have my way with her. Nosey told me it looked like a good deal, so I packed my belongings (actually, at that stage, I had no belongings!) and moved to Texas.

When I came here, there were only 3 other whippets:
1. Darby -- obviously the leader of the pack. I started loving on him immediately, realizing takeover would require either his cooperation or his defeat. Since dogs do things better than humans, I chose the cooperation approach. It worked.
2. Charlie -- what can I say? I love the dufus, even if he did run into me and break my back knee at the tender age of 4 months (my human nearly died of a heart attack!). The human servant says that if whippets could wear white shirts and carry slide rules, then Charlie would be the whippet doing it. Now, I am not real certain what that means....but here's a picture of him (OK, we had our fun with Photoshop on that one). He is just a klutz, breaking both other whippets and our servant (he got her nose, once). However, he is a GOOD HEARTED klutz, and the good heart is what counts.
3. Reilly -- weird. Totally. More about that later. Maybe.

When I was still a young whipper snapper of a pup, Darby got sick. Apparently his liver failed from a bug in his ascending Cole and Jive is (I have no clue what that means; I have heard the servant talk about it). He had to have a surgery to make the diagnosis, and the also discovered that he had severe cirrhosis. The vet doesn't know what caused the cirrhosis, but the servant has said that it must be from using his licker too much. Needless to say, I have tried to moderate the use of mine. When Darby got sick, he told me that I should assume the Queen B position. They thought he was going to die within a few months. He didn't. Now, 3 years later that ol' vet has diagnosed with with even more maladies, but like the Energizer Bunny, he just keeps on ticking. I let him pretend to be Top Dog, occasionally, just because he was so kind about letting me become dictator, errrr, ahhh -- leader. But the reality is that I CHOOSE to let him be leader. Occasionally. When it suits ME.

Life here has been pretty good. I grew up to be the Girl Goober, and my brother Griz, left in the PNW, grew up to be the Boy Goober (our servants didn't talk about it, but both of us were being called "Goober" as a nick name. Once they realized we were both being called Goober, they added 'boy' and 'girl'). Thankfully, as the Girl Goober, I am not required to wear goggles like my blood brother Griz.















We go on lots of trips when the servant gets tired from her regular job and can get the time off. The main problem with traveling is finding hotels that will let us stay. Now, I don't want to get on a soap box, but for equal opportunity nation, there is a heck of a lot of species discrimination in the US. Now that Hudi and Mati have joined the family, the servant gets really stressed because usually she can't smuggle all of us into a hotel room. We do a lot of sleeping on the road. People think that the servant is crazy, but it's a good form of crazy.

I told the servant that we need to get one of these:








However, she told me that I was going to get one of these:













Now, remember, adaptability is among one of my many endearing traits, but this is getting a little old. Last year, she got me the zero turn mower and tried to make it "fun" by creating a magazine cover with the gift. I was NOT amused. Seriously, what is a Queen B Whippet Girl going to do with a zero turn mower? Thankfully, the servant is the one that uses it ALL the time in the summer. I only got on it once for the picture. But then, if my "gift" of a zero turn mower is not something that I use, what is this about getting "me" a tractor? Hmmmmm????

The servant told me that we will need a tractor because in April we will take possession of this (after the cows leave):
Now, I'm not real clear how this will impact my life, but when I figure it out, I'll let y'all know!

Respectfully submitted,
Gabi, the Girl Goober & scribe extraordinaire

Fun Monday #2; The Bucket List

I'm type A and I think I am going to fail this one. Oh, well.

Tiggerlane at the Neophyte Blogger has asked us to give a Bucket list:
"Have you heard of The Bucket List? Well, that's what I want from you! Make a list of things you want to do before you die. It must be at least five items - and you can make it as long as you desire. Photos are optional. And let's hear about some of the wackiest, most bizarre to-do's on your Bucket List!"

I signed up as soon as I saw this assignment, thinking, "oh, a piece of cake!" Not. Perhaps, as for most of my life, I am taking things too seriously....ahhh, stop taking things so seriously!

Let me preface this by saying that I work in the Bucket-List-Inducement Field (oncology). Interestingly, although I have the "honor" of telling people, "Sir, it's time for you to working on that bucket list", I rarely see people turn around and change their lives. Obviously, at times, the person is too ill from the cancer to make like a bucket, but often, I believe people just want to be, without adding the stress of finishing goals that were not attainable when they were healthy to those precious months before they die. There are the requests: living to see someone graduate, marry, etc. but but big trips and dropping out of planes usually does not happen.

My father was diagnosed with metastatic non-small cell lung cancer 19 months ago. That's a disease whose median survival is less than one year. In my world this was very rude on multiple fronts 1) Dad was a life long non-smoker who grew up in a house of non-smokers, 2) he lived the healthy life before it was fashionable to do so, and 2) I work in the field of oncology so it is NOT supposed to happen to my family (If only that sort of magical thinking worked. It doesn't. I know.) Interestingly, except for the stress and depression that I see in my mother (my parents were high school sweethearts/life long partners), I have seen no bucket-list like behavior -- if anything, there retirement travels were curtailed because the chemotherapy left him feeling so drained, and now, the cancer itself just saps him of most good energy.

I guess this is my way of saying that I want to try to live my life so that I don't have a BL, because often times, it is too late by the time you know that you need to activate it.

That being said....
1. I want to swim in the nude in a large WARM body of water. I have always found water very relaxing....but I am very conservative so skinny dipping was never on my list of activities. Perhaps the Carribean (although I don't see how I would get my whippets down there).






2. I would like to rent a house on the beach (with my hounds)....






3. I would like to have travel time -- no place exotic (I am quite boring and conservative; therefore, my failure to fulfill the request of this FM). Once again, I would only want to travel if I could be with my hounds. Six dogs in a van gets close, but they are used to it. People think I am a little crazy for the trips that I already take. Usually, those trips are with the goal of making a race meet. If I was on my Bucket List time, I would hope to be able to travel to see friends and the country stopping for photos along the way.....however, only if I could take the hounds. Right now, the pursuit of kibble money hampers my travel plans.




4. I would install a fountain so I could hear water flowing. (There seems to be a water theme, here).

5. I just don't know.....I would like to change my personality, lose the angst that haunts me, be less of a shy person, find my soul-mate, etc. etc. But that is something that I am always trying to overcome.

What can I say? I am boring. I have no desire to hurdle my body through space and time. I find extreme discomfort when I move out of the known.... I am shy so throwing myself in the path of a celebrity has absolutely no interest for me (and is one of those angst inducing activities). I do hope that when it comes time, there isn't a Bucket List. That time is just too late.

So...

Hug your hounds....

AND

Empty your buckets!
Addendum: I always hate when I think of something AFTER writing it or that something that I have written will be mis-interpreted.
In no way do I want people to think that smokers deserve or have "earned" lung cancer if they are unfortunate enough to get it. Cancer is something that NO ONE deserves, no matter what their life style. We do know that certain cancers have cigarette/tobacco exposure as significant risk factors.
Lung cancer is uncommon in non-smokers, but is becoming more common. I believe that is a testament to the toxic environment in which we live. Ahhh, another list item: plant more trees!

Old dogs, revisited

Patience has been posting about her VOD (very old dog) which has led me to think about my guy. I don't have a very old dog -- but I do have a middle aged bordering on old dog with MMP (multiple medical problems). Darby was diagnosed with cirrhosis at age 5 (all that licker), and a heart murmur at age 7. Seven also brought spinal stenosis that has caused atrophy of his back leg. As eluded to in yesterday's post, he is old before his time.

Patience's old dog has had a rough week. Darby seems to be having a bad time, too. Perhaps, the stars are out of alignment and all old whippets are a bit "off" for this moon. Darby is lamer than usual, although seems not to be in pain. I read Laurie's post about her dog's last year, and sat here bawling (I think that is good for the soul, though). Recently, Darby has developed episodes of pure confusion. I hope that doesn't mean that his ticker is worse. However, 3 years ago when he was diagnosed with liver failure/chirrhosis, I thought he would be dead in 6 months. Eighteen months ago, I was agonizing over The Decision. But his eyes told me that is wasn't time. And he was right. The past few months have been very good. Rimadyl is miracle drug.

Today was warm. Darby went out and had a good roll in the hay. I love watching him enjoy things like that. I am confident the sun felt good on his bones. I would have joined him -- however, the evil allergies would have made me miserable, so I stayed inside in my filtered environment (please let the allergy shots work!).

Darby has taught me so much -- about unconditional love, about living despite the odds. I hope that Darby's recent slowness is just a blip on the radar screen and not a sign of the next decline. It is not my place to know whether this will prove to be a blip or a trend. It is my place to hug my hound, and be thankful for his very graceful presence in my life.

Stress buster for the day

I enjoy taking pictures. I keep telling myself that I want to do a better job of photography, learn how to do macros. This is this weekends attempt.

The post on my deck (and evidence of the need for carpet on the deck to prevent splinters).
My old dog....not a macro, but Darby was enjoying the sun. He is only 8.5 years old, but has multiple medical problems so has "aged early" as many of us do:
Dog parts. EEeewwww a nose:
Gabi's eye (many in the show world lament on her lack of pigmentation. I think the partial pigmentation gives her eyes character).
Hudi's eye:



So, that's my Saturday, with a little work on the side.