Friday, November 30, 2007
He loves to lay on the table, a gift from a dear friend, because it allows him to see through the glass in the door and watch us busy with our inside lives.
He had grown so much already and - look at those delicate paws - he has so much more growing to do. His head just gets darker and darker and his once pristine belly is getting a dark mohawk of fur. How I love that crazed beasty...
It's been a couple of rough days, as night shift always is, what with work and home...the creature demands so much attention and time. I had no idea, being a cat person. He simply has to go out-out-out. I wonder if his long legs ache to stretch out. Thankfully, Trooper can run and takes him out often for that exhausting trek.
Amusingly, he's like a furry toddler. He will throw a tantrum when he's over-tired. Racing around, snapping, snatching up shoes while looking you right in the eye...I have learned to look for it and not be irked. We spend rather a lot of time together so we're learning...
And it's nice, those 5am walks where you can feel the stillness of the world and see the stars with sleepy eyes. We've a golden, sweet life, really. I need to remember that when my frustrations grow.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Buy some Columbian coffee today. Tomorrow. And next week. Support the guy giving Chavez the finger.
""...Uribe had invited Chavez in August to help broker a deal with the FARC guerrillas, who are sympathetic to the Venezuelan leader's socialist ideals.
The rebels are holding 46 high-profile hostages, including three American defense contractors and French-Colombian politician Ingrid Betancourt. It is offering to release the prisoners in exchange for the freeing of all imprisoned rebels.""
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
This dog is so smart - amazingly so. He has already learned about 5 different commands (in German). He kennels without concern or fear and hardly makes a sound at bedtime.
He is also very clear about when he needs to go out - just the shortest whimpery sound. Tonight was the real test as we had to take my father back to Houston and meet out of town friends there for a few hours. He kenneled all that time and didn't make a mess! We were just CERTAIN he'd have to relieve himself before we could get home.
As for the cats...they have learned when he is kenneled they have the run of the house again. Maximus is actually staying in the same room with the dog but on-high - just in case, I suppose. Jonesy has been in the same room but in hiding, taking it slow but thus far the bravest and first to venture out. Poor wee Doodlebug is taking the longest to reveal herself. Still, for hardly 24 hours? They are all doing so well that I have great hopes.
Ranger is a fantastic beasty. I just wish I could run - he needs that. Trooper says in time - doesn't want to have him taking a bad twist on the leash and tumbling them over each other. A bit more training at heeling - "Foose" - and they can be running buddies.
Tomorrow...the holiday rundown. What a day...this chef is tuckered...
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
If you could have seen Trooper's face....
So, that evening he hit the net and looked at one shelter after another. And that's when he saw Ranger. The very next day we went to see the fellow and he fell in love with him. The photo doesn't do him justice at all.
Ranger is at least a Belgian Malinois with perhaps a bit of something else tucked in there. Hard to know for certain, of course. And he's young enough to learn to leave the cats alone - I hope. I worry most about that but he seems quite smart so we're hoping we can work it out.
I haven't seen Trooper so happy. He has wanted a dog for a very long time and was kindly deferring it due to the cats. But if you'd seen the shelter...sigh...not a single run, no play, just a concrete cell...even if I'd had any qualms I could not have fielded them after seeing that place. One knows a county does what it can with what it is given but...surely someone could donate some fencing to allow them a bit more room...
Alright - so there's that. And now the general house cleaning to remove all dog temptations and the holiday dinner hostessing. Ranger is going to be spoiled rotten, I'm afraid...let's hope the application is approved and we can fetch him soon. When we left the shelter, Ranger was trying to come with us and I saw Trooper swipe away a tear - "He wants to come with us now..."
Sigh...what a softy.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
There are a lot of reasons this day means a great deal to me but - there is no need for balloons and ribbons - just quiet acceptance that there are those who did what had to be done.
I love this photo of Trooper's grandpa - V-Day timeframe near the Danube. He did what had to be done with a sort of "fine, next?" alacrity that the country boys had. They'd been hungry and poor. This wasn't so bad, in the grand scheme of things.
I am so sorry I did not know him when he was in fine form. But you could see it in his eyes - that young man with the devilish smile.
And the flowers...
Bless you, Grandpa - for going, for coming home, and for raising the boy into the man I love.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
So, allow me to drop a plug for the man and the very nice studio - if you are ever in Austin and need to get that edge removed, please see Tom @ Austin BodyWorks. He is a slight thing and you would not think he had the strength to manage someone like the Trooper (who had to see him to get through academy's physical torment). But that man has muscles like the Hulk hiding beneath that easy exterior.
Like magic...he senses those sticking points, can feel the blockages in the fibers, and addresses them with no nonsense. Worth EVERY CENT. If you've a hitch in your giddyup, I hope you'll consider a visit.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
It's a heavy burden, I'd think, to take someone without decades of skills and try in a few short months make them capable of staying alive on their own. He says the kid is like a robot - he may not be great at paperwork but you show him one time how to do something and he has it pegged. Unfortunately, ours is a very tough paperwork location - a lot of it and a boss who demands it be done right the first time.
How can you distill that knowledge into a handful of days and instill it in someone who hasn't known...well, things that a soldier knows, intimately? It takes a great deal of patience, thought, and a desire to never attend their funeral.
We were laughing with another couple over Halloween farewells - he's now SWAT and was once another acronym. Sharp, that one, and quiet. She laughed and said that he was always testing her, play fighting...as does my own. Pressure points and house clearing and backing with cover. Games but games that have meaning. Because you do not know...
With another couple the other night, Trooper was declaring that his recruit had no idea how easy they had it - the constant mantra amongst the force. With pure deadpan, his friend says, "Hard? Hard?! We couldn't even use acronyms! One guy ordered tea with lunch and got smacked!" Still, it is true that they appear to have been more than kind with the last bunch. I figure they needed warm bodies for the border and anything was better than nothing.
Still, this one is his. And the fellow will know his shit or he will not be cleared. That's it. Because there is no way in hell we want his photo on the wall at Academy. Not if what he does now can prevent it. He may be green and pliable now. We'll see what April brings.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
A London Symphony is what ought to be played at my funeral but this - Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis is sheer romance, faultless love, desperate desire, unending devotion...it is God.
Bless anyone capable of making such sounds in the world. And bless that man for putting them all in a row...I needed that beauty just now...
Monday, November 05, 2007
While we're at it - a cosmic wedgie to anyone who doesn't use that lovely improved shoulder to allow faster traffic to pass. That means you, gravel trucks AKA Bane of My Existence.
I'd like to thank all the parents who thought that sending your kids out without even a haphazard attempt at a costume to accost the neighborhood was a reasonable option. I taunted them. Openly. In front of their friends.
A thank you to ye olde video channel for the trip in the wayback machine to Who's Next. And Quadrophenia. Like I didn't feel old enough already. I miss Keith...crazy fucker...still best drummer born - thank goodness we still have Neil Peart.
With that, goodnight.
P.S. Gratuitous drumming - hardcore sexy
Friday, November 02, 2007
So goes a favorite book that twists and turns people until their images - what they project - become truly what they are. And on this night, when facades fall with whispery soft tones...I remember...
I used to gather myths, used to know every hero and misstep on their path to fame - and infamy. For me, those ancient tales held kernels of truths and finding another tome made clear all that I knew. Heh...all that I knew...you see, that amuses me because I know very little, indeed, that is of use in the everyday world. Rather than an education, I gathered about me ghosts of the long-dead and their stories. I placed a veneer over the world that made it...palatable.
Arthurian tradition? Badon, I knew. Rhiannon? She bore men against her will as punishment - the torture cleaned up, I am certain, by those romantic Frenchmen. Cretien...Gwynn? Enchanted...held up one night. Poor Hypatia - brought down bloody because she knew two plus two and where the moon would rise. Yes, all these things I could relate but ask me not where that Civil War blood fell. Nor a thing about the proper place for a comma. And a percentage is still limited to slices of a pie.
Sometimes those echoes of a past far gone were deafening and modern marvels were put to good use to back them down. And sometimes ancient tortures, if the mood struck. If the moon was right. Years and years lost to that drowning out - the drowning. Even now, it is rare for those things to rise and press against the surface, to break through and come known again. Forgotten for so very long...
But once a year I give it ear. Anything can be staved off, you see. Anything. As long as you can give it time...later, later. So, the last remaining Waterford goblet and a toast to things...forgotten. Misplaced. Negated. Refused.
Olly Olly Oxen Free!