Your turn #1

If you have any questions you would like to ask us, post them here as a comment, and I'll do my best to answer them.
Please be nice!

hug your hounds

Fun Monday # I can't remember

This week's Fun Monday host is IT Guy

Here is what he came up with:

I need YOU (yes, the wonderful YOU!) to pick 5 memorable lines from 5
different movies (if you could tell us which character said it and to whom,
would be a bonus)...and tell us to WHOM (who in the people in your life) you
could have said those lines.

Problem is, my memory is kaput, and I don't watch many movies at home. I do go to our fantastic little independent theater here in Paducah, Maiden Alley Cinema regularly. Last night we saw The Kite Runner, which was oh such a powerful movie. I do not usually see troubling movies of this ilk, as I am way too sensitive and suggestible. That movie will haunt me for the rest of my life. I walked out of The Machinist last year, and years ago from The Exorcist. I left the house in 1990 something, when my husband and son were watching the video of Platoon, and the soldiers shot the little old Vietnamese couple. Still have nightmares from that one. Didn't leave soon enough.

But with the help of the Internet, here is my list:

1. My favorite is when Kathy Bates' character in Fried Green Tomatoes rams her car into the car of the rude teenagers who are trying to steal her parking spot. The say, "We're younger and faster" She replies, after bashing into the car, "I'm older and I have more insurance." I love that line. Go writer Fannie Flagg! To sum up the benefits of being a 50 + year old woman in seven words! Awesome. I won't have an opportunity to use this line. But I love it.


2. "In the name of God, do your duty." Atticus Finch's closing argument in To Kill A Mockingbird. Ahhhhh Gregory Peck! Ahhhhhhhh Harper Lee. Does it get any better? Nah. To the politicians in this country. All of them.


3. "Outta order? I'll show you outta order! " Al Pacino, as Lt. Col. Frank Slade in Scent Of A Woman. I'll use this some day.


4. "Ray, people will come, Ray. They'll come to Iowa for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around," you'll say. "It's only twenty dollars per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack." James Earl Jones as Terrence Mann in Field of Dreams. We get so hung up with buying this and buying that, having this and having that. But in this grand, wealthy country, it is money we have, and peace we lack.


5. "In his final words tonight, the Judge said that we can be "the terror of the world." I don’t think we want to be that. I think we would prefer to be the encouragement of the world: the proof that at last man is worthy to be free." Raymond Massey as Abraham Lincoln in Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940), during a debate with opposing candidate Judge Stephen Douglas. To the current administration, and those that would have us impose our ways on other people by force.

Click HERE to see the list of other Fun Monday participants.

hug your movie watchin' hounds

Peace

Normally, I hate the spring forward time change. Oh I enjoy the longer days, yes I do, but being more of a night person I do not do well losing that morning hour of sleep. This morning, after such a long, cold, gray and miserable winter, waking to glorious bright Sunshine forcing her way through our bedroom blinds was splendid. Splendid.



Peace reigns in our home. Lindy Loo is done. Swede William would like to convince her otherwise, but she is immediate and resolute in shunning his advances. Gone is the crate from the TV room. Banished are the constant worries of an accidental meeting of more than the minds of the would be lovers. At last the two sweet hearts can romp together in the yard and run off their extra energy. If and when the exhausted William ever wakes up. He is sleeping soundly, oblivious of Lindy Loo's whereabouts, for the first time in three weeks. Ah, sweet peace.





And last night's performance of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues was magical. The writer's words are so powerfully crafted, that amateur readers from all walks of life don't diminish the intensity, electricity or potency of a single syllable. The part I read is relatively new piece, and unlike the rest of the monologues which are based on interviews of over 200 women, my reading was written by the author based on her own experience. Here is the introduction:

• Intro — I Was There In The Room This piece was performed for some time without any mention of birth. This was a bizarre omission. But, then again, a male journalist recently asked "What's the connection?" Our author, Eve Ensler, was present for the birth of her granddaughter. She was in awe of vaginas before that moment, she's in deep worship now.

I felt a huge responsibility to do her words justice. My part was the next to last, and as I congratulated the other readers on their jobs well done, I got more and more nervous. I kept reading over my part backstage and praying that I would get it right. And then I was on stage, blinded, and the words took over.



I was the Raffle Chair for the reception after the performance. I got two surprising gifts as I drew the tickets and shouted out the winning numbers. We had just awesome donations this year, and I think we raised a bunch of money for the women's shelter. Bill was tired and had left after the performance. But as I was drawing a ticket, I looked out into the crowd and he was back. Seeing him made me feel unexpectedly loved. That is a nice way to feel.



One of the raffle prizes was a lovely simple diamond necklace. There were three little diamonds on a simple chain; one of those past, present, and future designs. I put a bunch of my tickets in that bag, and as I called out the number of the winning ticket, oh! I thought it was mine. NO! I groaned, I had only missed it by one number. But then as the actual winner pressed forward from the crowd, I got a much bigger thrill. It was Sam I Am's new friend. She looked beautiful, just beautiful. She looked down and didn't meet my eyes. I wanted with every ounce of myself to embrace her, but of course I couldn't. One of the shelter's staff members smilingly met my eyes with the smallest of nods and I struggled to regain my composure. I wanted to sing and shout and cry and do a happy dance and yell WA-HOOOOOOOOO and thank all that is good in the World. I was beyond exhausted, and instantly I wasn't.

It will be Spring soon. It will be warm and green and new, and there will be old dogs lounging and baking, and friends sitting on the porch and flowers in pots, and work to do and far away friends to visit and dogs to run and husbands to come home to and life is so very good.





Hug your hounds

A gift, a tag, and a newspaper story

I got a most wonderful gift in the mail yesterday. It was from Mama Pajama and Fat Charlie's litter brother Breezy, and Lindy Loo's litter brother Topper and their kind Mom, Sandy. As most of you dear readers know by now (ad nauseatum) I am in the throes of writing a book about a dog. I was having a cell phone conversation with Sandy while walking my dogs and it must have been a cold, gray day (imagine that) and I must have been just a wee bit discouraged, because I think I said something to the effect of, "I have no idea why I ever thought I could write a novel." Sandy, being a kind and generous and supportive soul sent me this gift. (It was beautifully wrapped in gorgeous paper and ribbon, but I tore into it before I got my camera.)

Oh the inspiration! Oh the resources! Oh the gratitude! I love Mary Stewart's writing and I had not read The Ivy Tree, so I can't wait to dive in. And The Writer's Kit is perfect! Thank you, Sandy.

This works perfectly with the tag from the mom of the delightful Wire Fox Terrier, Gus, which is:

Rules:

1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.

2. Open it to page 123.

3. Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.

4. Then invite 5 friends to do the same.

I have two books going. I'm almost finished with ON BENDED KNEES, the True Story of the Night Rider Tobacco War in Kentucky and Tennessee by Bill Cunningham.

• His brew was sold to captains, passengers and crews of passing Cumberland River packets aw well as other good customers within that area. These diversified businesses allowed Bennett to pay the hillbillies gold dollars for their leaf, an extra enticement in those hard pressed days. His progeny matched his material wealth, having six children by his first wife who had died and another offspring by his second spouse. By any standard of the day, Henry Bennett was affluent and well-to-do. Physically, he stood only five feet six inches tall, a proud, brash and abrasive sort who strutted about with the brag and bravado of a bantam rooster.

And I've had a sneak preview of the aforementioned The Ivy Tree.

• "You can take it how you like. I've assured you that no one will be harmed by what I'm doing, but I don't expect you to believe me. Why should you? I can only beg you to keep out of what doesn't concern you... at least until you see wrong being done." He said, all at once sounding very tired, "I don't understand you."

So that's the gift and the tag. If you would like to participate in this tag, consider yourself tagged - you're it!

The newspaper story? I read tonight in Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues. This amazing play has raised over $50,000,000 around the world to help end violence against women and girls. The stupid ridiculous blizzard that whooped down into western KY last night won't help.

Got to RUN. I'm LATE for our last rehearsal.

hug your hounds, your mothers, your daughters, your aunts, and your nieces!

A Stellar Soul

Sam I Am has started his career as a Therapy Dog. It is high time. He has quietly been doing wonderful work unofficially with his friends and neighbors. This community is the result of an Artist Relocation Program, sponsored by the City of Paducah. It has won big deal National Awards. People moved here from all over the country, leaving family, long time friends, home, and security nets to rehab crumbling old homes. It was, for everyone who came, at times overwhelming.

And there was Sam I Am. I knew better than to flatter myself thinking that our neighbors were coming to see us. Oh, certainly Bill's pasta had a hand in the steady stream of visitors arriving at supper time. But sooner than later, the guest would be sitting on our kitchen love seat, Sammy next to them, with his head in the visitor's chest and a paw gently resting on the lap.

He started his official visits at the hospital. The physical rehab floor. Sammy shows his innate gifts by waggingly walking into a room with four people: a nurse, two family members, and the patient. He greets each, and then glues himself to the patient. I don't know how he knows. The patient in one room was sitting in a chair, and his wife was sitting on the bed. Sam went to the chair, and nudged his pointy nose under the hand. He knows.

Today we visited at the women's shelter. We entered a room where Sam had never been. The therapist introduced us to Sam's new friend, who was newly arrived from the Rape Crisis Center. She was weeping, quietly. The therapist left the room, which surprised me.

I explained to Sam's new friend that I was not a therapist. Sammy was the one who would be listening to her, and I showed her his bright yellow certified therapy dog tag. I explained that dogs have a miraculous capability of listening, and taking in pain and sorrow, and giving back love. I said that dogs were incapable of judging, and that I believe that dogs are our constant example of unconditional love. I told her also, that dogs, unhampered by spoken language, can hear unspoken words perfectly, and that whatever she wanted to say or not say was just fine.

I took Sam I Am's coat off, and watched him do magic. His new friend softly stroked his head. "He's so soft," she whispered. Her tears dropped onto Sam's head and she rubbed them off. At first she was a bit tentative; her hands kept returning to her face, covering her mouth, wiping the tears in vain. More just kept coming.

Sammy looked at me for reassurance, worry in his eyes thick as storm clouds. I pulled out some little treats and put them in front of his new friend. She gave him one treat, and another, until they were gone. Sam did not look to me for more, he leaned into her. She kept stroking his head and quietly weeping.

After a bit, Sam looked at me for help. There was an upholstered bench in the room. I asked Sam's new friend if she would mind sitting on the bench, because I thought that Sam wanted to get closer. She moved to the bench, leaving her wad of tissues behind. She sat on the bench, and I prayed to Sam. I didn't need to. Sammy hopped up next to her, gently sat and by lifting a paw in a "please" gesture, asked permission to lay in her lap. She patted her leg, and Sam softly placed his head and one paw on her thigh. "I miss my dog," she cried.

They sat like that for, well, I have no idea how much time passed. Twice Sam looked up backwards and lifted his nose to her face. "He gives nose kisses," I explained. "And I want you to know, that Sam I Am kisses are rare indeed."

"He sure is beautiful," she smiled. Sammy nudged her hand which had stopped stroking him for a nanosecond. She laughed. "Can you believe it? I haven't been able to stop crying since I got here. I wasn't allowed to cry, and since I got here I can't stop. But he's got me smiling."

As we were leaving she gave me a hug and said, "Thank you. Thank you for bringing your beautiful dog. Thank you."

"No," I said.

"Thank you."

Hug your blessed hounds

Better

It was glorious today. Seventy, clear sun, warm breezes. Heaven.

Good for the soul and the psyche too. Canine, human.

We walked right after our oatmeal, even Mama Pajama went all the way to the River. Then I put the boy dogs in the van. It was so nice that the girl dogs could go in and out of the house with the kitchen door open. No worries of wandering Romeos getting to Lindy Available Loo. Not with Delia, Mama Pajama, Luciano, and Maria to sound the "furriner" alarm and Bill right there. So the girls and Luciano (he's really one of the girls in that Broke Back Mountain kind of way, and prefers their company) got some peace and quiet and sun and relaxation, and the boys got to run.

And run they did. There is no dog alive who appreciates a run more than Fat Charlie. Could he possibly be turning eleven in June? He smiles and grins and wags and chases the younger ones and wags and smiles and grins and tells me what a great good servant I am. (That was nice to hear today.) And Very Old Dog had a lovely good time. He galloped a bit! I held my breath. He trotted around and around and finally flopped on the ground and rolled in the grass and worshipped the sun. And Swede William got to run off some frustration, and Sam I Am got to outrun everyone else. After he did twelve weave poles perfectly and did the chute. I made up a trick which seemed to work. I put yummy treats inside the chute showing the path out, and he figured how to open the way with his nose down.

Then I worked the rest of the afternoon outside. Alternating Swede William and Lindy Loo in the yard, and explaining to Swede William in no uncertain terms, that when it was his turn inside, in a comfy crate full of chewgars and peanut butter filled kongs, he could and would be quiet. And he was. Good boy.

Oh how a little warmth and sunshine can calm a troubled soul.

hug your hounds

The Best Laid Plans

It is a gloriously gorgeous day in Western Kentucky. Finally. Sunny. Mid fifties. Light breeze. And I'm letting it go to waste. I should be shot.



First I must admit a bit of folly on my part which turned into embarrassment and mortification. There is a wonderful blogging group called Dogs With Blogs. It is huge, with 812 blogs listed, and for the most part the blogs are maintained by the dogs themselves, with the humans acting only as secretaries or editors. Many - most - of the kind "folks" who comment on my stories are dogs who belong to this group. Each month, members of the group nominate and vote on blogs worthy of the Awesome Blog Award. This is what the Awesome Blog Award looks like:



Well, I thought it was pretty funny/cool/coincidental/remarkable/whatever that the Awesome Blog Award sported a whippet! Clearly not a greyhound, even, but a lovely whippet. So, in a fit of mammoth idiocy, I posted on the nomination forum that I thought the dog on the award looked exactly like Lindy Loo's daddy:
And I said, "OK, I am not nominating myself, but..."

Well don't they look alike?

Of course the forum moderator thought I most certainly was nominating myself, or maybe she was simply trying to alleviate a bit of my dogs' embarrassment at having such a dork for a servant, and next thing I knew this blog was nominated. I explained there had been a horrid mistake, that I did not mean to nominate myself. But it was too late, as the voting had started.

Needless to say, I came in L.A.S.T. in the votes. The dogs, having been bred for centuries to come in first, hate to come in last at anything, (I can't say it was great for my ego) and so they have been posting notices on some other dogs' blogs about putting me up for adoption and getting a new Servant. One which doesn't succumb to acts of imbecility, least of all not on large public forums. One which doesn't drop full cookie sheets of Simple Simon Bones and then start screaming NO DOGS NO DOGS GET OUT HOT HOT HOT NO DOGS. One which would maybe run the five to seven miles a day that this one plods along at a thumping walk, to get them all exercised. One which could find her way to a dog show occasionally or whoopee maybe even a Lure Trial, remember those?

And then, my local NPR station had kindly asked me to do live, on air fundraising again during the prime spot of A Prairie Home Companion. It is aired on Saturday evening and Sunday noon time, and not only was I given the honor of fundraising during the most popular show, I was given my choice of which. Trying to be a good supporter of public radio, I replied that I would take whichever day they needed me. I hadn't heard back and then yesterday, Bill said, "You haven't forgotten that we've been invited to dinner and to the symphony on Saturday, have you?" Well of course I had. I practically forget to pull my pants down before peeing and you want me to remember dinner? So I called the radio station thinking I had a fifty fifty chance. I could have been scheduled for Sunday's show and everything would be fine.

I was scheduled for Saturday's show, and why on Earth did I think it would be any different? I had to tell them I was letting them down. Great. So now I'm an imbecile, an idiot, and a letter downer duty shirker.

I actually entered two dog shows. I haven't shown Swede William or Lindy Loo or Emmett since August. There are four shows a half an hour south of Nashville on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. That's a three hour drive which is close for dog shows here. I am reading in The Vagina Monologues (a benefit for our women's shelter and a charity to end violence against women and girls world wide which has accomplished miracles but has so much more to do) on Saturday night, and the dress rehearsal is Friday, so I only entered Thursday and Sunday's shows. When you enter a show, you know your assigned time can be anywhere from 8 AM to 1 PM and you have no say in the matter. I was hoping for a late ring time. Three hour drive each way and late, tiring night on Saturday. Got my ring times in the mail. Eight thirty AM on Thursday. Eight AM on Sunday. Great.

And then the jewel in my crown. We have planned that Swede William would go to his favorite Aunt Heather's house and play with his best friend Emmett and hang out with Edgar and Baby Ben when Lindy Loo became Too Tempting for Words or Living With. Things were starting to get heated up and sweet kind Heather said, "Bring him on over." We were both looking forward to Emmett (Lindy Loo's litter brother) having Swede William to play with in their nice big yard, and giving Heather extra free time with Baby Ben. When Heather and Jason go away, Edgar and Emmett come stay here, and are sterling citizens and fit in just fine. I expect my dogs to be sterling citizens if they have sleepovers at other folks houses, and generally they are.

Swede William was not a sterling citizen. Despite Heather's best efforts (and my dogs adore her, make no mistake) Swede William would not go to sleep. He would not shut up. Luciano went and stayed with Heather a few years ago and had a great time. (And Luciano is special in his head!!!) But Swede William cried and screamed all night long. She put him in bed, he cried. She put him back in his crate, he wailed. She went downstairs on the couch finally after trying to call me at four in the morning because she thought he was being emotionally scarred. We don't have a phone in our bedroom, or I would have gone and got him right then and there.

I feel atrocious about the whole thing. Poor, poor, dear Heather! I would never ever have taken Swede William if I thought he would deprive her of a minute's sleep much less all night long. All NIGHT!!! I feel a moliminous amount of guilt. I retrieved him immediately when I got her phone call, which I doltishly answered with a cheery, "Was he a very good boy last night?"

Ah. I see that as I've been writing this, the sky has clouded over. At least I'm not wasting the perfectly good sunshine any more.


I don't have anything to wear to a symphony???? All of my dressy clothes have liver stains on the pockets from dog shows.




hug your hounds, mine deserve better.
Oh and go visit the blogs who won! The winner of the Awesome Blog Award is the very deserving Ruby at http://wonderruby.blogspot.com/ , and the Featured blog is the fantastic http://cubbygoesdigital.blogspot.com/ . You will see why we had no business in the embarrassing confusion.