A Real Howlabaloo

The quiet pastoral area where we live wasn’t so quiet last night. Every dog in the neighborhood, and from the sound of it, there’s at least 36, had a full moon party last night. It seems unfair that those rascals can now sleep all day and the rest of us have to pretend we’re rested. I must give our dogs credit- they knew what was good for them and didn't participate. However...

In other countryside news, Annie (the black lab) had another encounter with the chickens last evening. The chickens are free-range and spend every afternoon out of the pen. Since Annie's rampage when the chicks were small, our dogs have lived peacefully with the chickens. We have 2 roosters and trust me, you don’t have to train them to have cock fights, that’s what they do. They were getting into it and Annie just couldn’t resist the temptation to jump into the fray and she had one of the roosters in her mouth when Jim came riding to the rescue on his tractor. He’d been mowing, and the tractor patrol put the petal to the metal and separated rooster and lab. They both survived. Now I know why roosters have a whole bunch of feathers- it’s protection.Somber local news is that the man who I think of as the patriarch of our neighborhood died yesterday. He had a stroke and moved to the best neighborhood of all, but his many children & grandchildren, who all live around here, will miss him a lot. We are expecting at least a dozen people at our house tomorrow for a cook-out and “family fun day” and the funeral is during that time. We’ve decided that he would rather us celebrate family and love and look out for his widow on a daily basis than cancel everything to wear black for him. I hope that’s the right decision. I truly want to show my respect to the family. Any thoughts?

Hope you experience fullness & joy in your life this weekend. I saw this photo yesterday and it made me smile and reminded me of one of my sister’s sayings, “whatever blows your skirt up.” I think that’s supposed to mean “whatever makes you happy”.

Squall Line Vol. 7 – Who Needs Reality TV When There’s Reality?

Hurt. Indignation. Humor. Sagacity.
It took me 5 days to process this incident and gain some perspective on it. (FYI, sagacity can be defined as discernment.) This is a true story but the names have been changed to protect the kooky innocent. For this story, I’m going to give this neighbor the nickname of Mercurial Mable. You’ll understand why in a minute.

A sheriff’s officer showed up at my house the other day. He explained that my neighbor had called about the fact that her missing dog was last seen at my house and wanted to know what I knew about that. Her black lab puppy, named Obama since they got him on election day, loves to visit our 2 labrador retrievers. I told the deputy I was aware the dog was missing and had been looking for him myself. In fact, I had called my neighbor and spoken to Mr. Mable to offer to make signs or help in the search effort.

After the officer left, I wondered if I could have misinterpreted that conversation, but it sounded as if Mable had called the sheriff’s office to accuse me of harming or stealing her dog. Surely that couldn’t be; this is someone I have friendly talks with several times a week! I figured I would simply call her and be sure there wasn’t a problem. Bad idea.

When she answered the phone and I expressed my concern for Obama, she WENT OFF like a fireworks display. (Except this one was all smoke and noise - nothin' pretty about it.) I listened in stunned silence to her anger and venom. Yes, she’d called “The Law” on me because her dog had been last seen at my house. How could I hurt her and her husband like this by harming their dog? And on and on she went. When I would try to say something she would yell “I’M NOT FINISHED TALKING!” And when she had exhausted her rant, she hung up on me.

I couldn’t believe it! I was upset. I couldn’t find any humor in the episode.

Mable’s husband called that night and spoke to my husband to report the happy news that Obama had been found. He had been hanging out at someone’s home 2 miles through the woods on another road. My husband felt that the call was meant as an apology. And we are really happy Obama is back where he belongs. He’s very appealing but he can really stir up trouble. (Double meaning intended.)

Who needs to watch reality TV? I mean really? Give me happy endings and a meaningful script, but I can tune into my own neighbors for strife and drama.

By the next day, I started seeing some humor as my husband teased me by calling me a dog-snatcher.

Very quickly I made the conscious decision to forgive Mable. It’s a good thing I learned years ago that forgiveness is an act of the will – my emotions don’t always line up right away. It helps when I rationalize her behavior by wondering if she’s on some medication that makes her crazy, or maybe she was furious with someone else and I unwittingly wandered into the line of fire. Regardless of the reason, common sense tells me that if you know there’s a wasp nest in a tree, don’t mess with that tree or you’re going to get stung.

And you know that thought (in my 25 random things post) I had to run for public office? Forget it. My skin is not thick enough to be chewed up and spit back out.

If you have a squall, feel free to link up to the Squall Line. Please link the exact post below. It doesn't have to be a post from today!

To Tell the Truth

What do you do when someone says, “Okay, I’m a direct person and I need to know if you have a problem with this. I’m asking you to tell me how you really feel.” Do you tell the truth?

I was posed a question today by a neighbor over a really minor issue and asked to “be honest”. She feeds our dogs hotdogs and then calls to complain when they go up there and set up camp in her flowerbed (where it’s cooler) to wait for the next weenie to come out handout. So when she asked today if I have a problem with her feeding them, I (thought I) diplomatically said, “It would be better if you don’t do that.” You’d have thought I’d told her to go take a walk on the wild side by her outraged response. I mean she was mad. She loudly proclaimed she is sorry to have us as neighbors and ought to build a big old fence between us. (That would be a feat of engineering!)

My thought is “why did you ask if you didn’t want to know?” What was I supposed to do, lie?

People are interesting. I am reminded that I really hate confrontation. I was certainly not looking for it. Such a minor issue, any way you crack it. Maybe that’s why she has high blood pressure, ya think? I thought I’d feel better if I let myself rant in print. I’m not sure that I do.

Meet the source of this bone of contention. They are fondly known as "the girls."

Jo’s Legacy

It hit me this week that my baby will be moving out in 3 months. People have asked me what I will do with an empty nest and I have just laughed and said, “I’m pretty sure I won’t be bored.” Now I realize that flip answers won’t cover the absence my heart will feel.

Tonight I found comfort in reading the words of an old friend who loved my Cupcake deeply. I found her legacy recorded on the website of the college Cupcake will be attending. Concidence? I don’t think so. The Curto Collection is a wonderfully written history, but it is a reminder to me that love is eternal. Jo Curto has moved to heaven, so I have not visited with her in quite some time. She writes, “Until I quietly slip away while explaining the “s” form of the verb and join those others who loved TCC in that Great Classroom in the sky, I will continue to count my blessings, not the least of which is the opportunity to feel needed and to belong.” I feel like I have visited with her tonight after reading her papers online. I bet she would have written an addicitive blog had she had that opportunity.

Jo was the kind of neighbor you dream of having. Her door was always open but she was never intrusive. She would watch our kids in a pinch with no notice. She was intelligent, funny, kind, strong and altogether fascinating. She was the one who entertained our older children when Cupcake was born and then brought them in to meet their new sister. She became “Nana Jo” to Cupcake - I had always loved the name “Nana” and she happily went along with that. Of course I knew she had her docotoral degree, was a professor and a published author, yet she was very unassuming and never wanted to talk about herself. I am not surprised now to learn that she was a prolific author as well as mentor to many budding writers.

Her writing has reached through time and space to comfort and encourage. I am reassured to know that as Cupcake moves away, she will be living in the shadow of Jo’s legacy. Jo describes the college saying, “TCC is not its publications, not its programs, not its technology, not its buildings, but its heart and soul are the people, from administrators with awesome responsibilities to young people with faith that TCC will help them overcome fears and doubts, realize their dreams, and meet their needs.” Thanks for everything, Jo.

Junkyard Dogs

I’m one of those people who doesn’t exercise by choice. Granted, I’ve always done it, but for me, it’s like brushing my teeth. Do it because you have to or you’ll pay a terrible price. With the marvelous invention of the iPod, I had actually come to enjoy my somewhat daily run. Okay - I walk as much I run, but I’m out there, so what’s the diff. That is, until my neighbor started keeping his dogs outside. There are 3 rat terrors (is that supposed to be terrier?) that come after me daily. These little monsters are junkyard dogs. (They are mean and they live in what has come to be a junkyard, but that’s a story for another day.) They are little, but vicious. Now it’s interesting to note that I run with 3 big dogs that do not serve as any deterrent at all. Builderman and I have 2 black labs that could not terrorize a flea. I am also accompanied by a boxer who has adopted me. He is muscular and keeps grown men trembling in their trucks and using their cell phones to call for assistance when thy come to our house - and he’s not my dog! (Belongs to yet another neighbor.) For some reason, he's also afraid of these junkyard dogs. They nip and yip and gnash their teeth and carry on like nobody’s business. They definitely bite, as Cupcake lost a chunk of her shoe one day.

Now I usually like dogs just fine. But these dogs are asking for it. Builderman gave me some pepper spray for Christmas. (He’s the ever-practical gift buyer.) I now run prepared for battle. I have yet to spray one of the suckers as they are so fast. I think I need the kind of spray that shoots like a firehose. I now have great sympathy for all of the mailmen, meter readers and other friendly folks who would rather keep the flesh on their legs intact than pretend like they like your dog. A few bad ones can make all the rest look really bad. Kinda like people. I’m going to keep on running.