This is for the birds...er...dogs...

I never thought about it starting my job, but going into people's homes is very intrusive.
No, not for them.
For me.
Because my leg, and my bag, and sometimes, even my dignity gets invaded upon by the creatures that live in these homes.

The dogs.

And I am a lover of canines, I even have had one live with me (oh Ray, how we miss your stench), but the tale of the dogs has gotten a bit out of hand.

First of all, I have to keep their names straight. THE DOG'S NAMES, not my patients.
And I only have to do this because I usually need it first, DOWN JACK!
NO HUMPING DJ! BAD! GIVE ME MY THERMOMETER JOJO...HERE! NOW!

I never thought I would have to plan my outfits around other people's animals, but if it's raining, and I'm going to see the leg humper, dark pants it is! But if I go to Mr X's house and the big dog is out, light pants for sure, the hair will show less. Not to mention the crotch sniffers, the ferocious barkers AS I LEAVE the house, the underfooters (oops, ARF!) and the giant dog crate night stand dwellers.

WHAT? REALLY?

Yes. It's true, all of it true.
It's comforting and reassuring to know that people out there are truly insane about their animals, it's natural, it's normal, it's therapeutic, it's all in a day's work.





*all dogs names have been changes...

*phot of Ray by Xavy

Wednesday Bright Spots

I've got a few little rays of sunshine today.
Take a peak.



This strawberry is waiting for me to pounce on it.
Today? Tomorrow? Only time will tell.
If I weren't eating my strawberries one-by-one I would have made some jam.
But they don't even make it into the kitchen.



Good Morning sunflowers pointing toward the sun (me).



There are some yummy little veggies poking up in this garden that I toil over day in and out.
Just look at all the of the work I have done putting up fences and climbing thingies to keep everything safe and sprouting.
Why are you laughing?



Big cup of tea, Granny style.
I enjoyed it with a delicious piece of homemade whole wheat bread that I meant to snap a picture of but, well... I ate it already.




My boy gets a lot of treats because he is just so good!
(Do you think I am talking about Eric?)
Yesterday I said to myself "You (I?) have to get some more treats today because you (I?) are running out."
And then my-self that realized that I won't be getting a paycheck for a while said "Make the treats!"
So I did. And guess what? He loves them!
Drake or Eric?

and happy house smells like syrup

Packing for the Vineyard.
More like, shuffling items from the Stowe bag to the Vineyard bag.

(Not a complaint. Trust me. That. Is. Not. A. Complaint.)

Never mind that I have a stash of my clothes and some for my offspring on-island.
The packing urge has hit - Vera (Bradley) is busting at her seams.

Only bright colors are allowed in the bag.
A new rule I made up this evening.

Also, I'm wondering if Finn will survive or if I should pawn him off on someone.
I've asked him if he'll be okay without me and he just flapped his finns.

(Does that mean yes or no?)

Also, I'm wondering why Happy House smells like syrup.
I arrived apres dinner and the smell is unmistakeably sweetened.

What happens around here when I leave this place???

The thick summer air smells sweet and sticky. And if you think sticky doesn't smell, you should come sample the air at Happy House. Free samples.

Smells like syrup.

(Not a complaint. Trust me.)

Dear Butter,

One week ago, we met in an open field.
You let me bite you.
Twice.

My mom cried.
Defeated.
She thought I was a hopeless case.

But your mom,
she believed in me.
She knew I could do it.

So we mingled.
And we played.
You let me bite you again.

But now you are my friend.
I will follow you
and watch what you do.

I had forgotten how to be a pet,
and how to play.
You believed in me, too.



I'll try not to bite you again.

Love,
Drake

Actually, it's all about me.

I'm sure she didn't do much until she was four anyway.

So really, when I think about Erin,

I think about me.

Because when I think about me, I want to think about Erin.

She is all of the below.

She is love, generosity.

She is heart, laughter, ears.

One time, I was having car trouble in college. Serious trouble, like the power steering stopped, and I could hardly turn the wheel. And I was on the highway. And then I got to a lot, and stopped. And the hood started smoking.

So I called Erin.

My mechanic. My calm.

I call her for happy things, too.

She is however I am feeling. She takes me on as her own. She lets me go on her honeymoon and pinch her baby's cheeks. Her bed is always made for me. And like a true little sister, I love being wherever she is.



Happy Birthday sweet Erin.

this one, above

today I'm thinking about my sister-

this one

above-

when I think of her, I envision

outstretched arms-

a full smile

a warm "HI"

and an automatic

"what can I do??"

attitude-

automatic.

how many people have an

automatic

"what can I do??"

attitude...

answer that.

I love this little red head.

on her birthday, I get to celebrate

that she is mine...

When Two Become One.

Happy Birthday EMAH.

Sometimes it feels like our families aren't two different, but one. And the same.

And that makes me happy. It gives me great joy.

I love you today. And I love love love the times that are to come.

Thanks for all you do for me.

I'll Take Mine WITH Seeds. Please.

Where did seeded watermelons go?

It is now summer. Today. Finally.

Everyone knows that Summer & Watermelon go together like....

like...

Fine, I'll say it even though you were all thinking it:

Twigs & Berries.

(that was for all you brothers who DON'T read this blog).

Anyway. Why can't I find them?

Watermelons with seeds!

Seeded watermelons!

The seeds were always the best part.

If you find one, tell me.

I'm just a Stoweaway up here at GrannyCamp

but I do know a few wee ones I'd like to spit seeds with

(at).

Dear Mushy Brown Bananas,

Dear M.B. Bananas,

While you gave me angst for a few days --- not 'cause I didn't know WHAT to do with you ----
just that I didn't have the TIME ---- I'd like to let you know that it is official.

I won.

I saw your big, brown bruises and smelled your distinct smell whafting from the fruit basket.

In all its glory I saw it. And smelled it.



And I won. The best of you is in those muffins up there.

P.S. And oh, 'cause I know you're wondering? Yes. Those are chocolate chips.

The Golden Rule

I've been thinking about the Golden Rule,
and how I want to use it in my classroom.

Because sometimes,
first graders can be mean.

And to teach the GR I have to live the GR. Yes?

So when I am out running, and another exerciser passes by,
I wave.
Or pant,
Hel-lo.
Breathe.
Sometimes I am running and they are running.
And sometimes I am running and they are biking.
Other times I am running and wishing they couldn't see me running,
So what then?
Must I?

And what if the other person avoids eye contact?

Should you wave at cars coming towards you that give you a generous amount of room?
And flip off the ones who try to brush you with their side mirrors? (Heavens, no! Right?)

Here's the real kicker.
Say you're walking down the hallway. Just you and another grown-up.
You make your eyes look busy until just the moment you say hello.
Because you have to.
Say hello.
But say, you are walking back in the opposite direction not long after that,
because maybe you were just doing a quick errand because maybe your job is boring sometimes and maybe you were just going to photocopy one page because you had 5 minutes to spare.
AND you pass that SAME PERSON in the hallway AGAIN.
Do you say hello?
Or say something silly like "Well, hello again" or "We meet again".
Maybe first time "hello" second time "smile".
But don't SAY "smile". Right?

Are there rules? Should I know them?
Did I miss that day of first grade?
Should I miss that day of first grade?

Broken Wings and Things...Like Hope.

Back in the day when I used to wear shorts (that's for you T) and dated a cute guy with long hair and earrings (that's for you D: sometimes I miss the long hair, but not the earrings), I had the unique opportunity to set up Plover Exclosures.

Plover Exclosures. Try saying that 10 times fast.

Called exclosures because they exclude predators - but keep the good guys inside.

And my first time doing it I witnessed the best acting I've seen in all my life. The actress happened to be a tiny sand-colored bird.

The Plover Mama we'd been monitoring had finally laid eggs. We had to move quickly (four of us rangers) to set up fencing in just the right way, so as to allow Mama the freedom to come and go without allowing her predators to do the same.

The exclosure had to be set up in record time. If Mama Bird was off her eggs for too long they may sizzle in the sun, or she may abandon them all together.

Once the exclosure was installed, we were to watch Mama B through binoculars while hearts pounded. Will she or won't she go back to her eggs?

If Mama Bird didn't return to her nest the exclosure would be removed.

OH! The pressure!

***

The moment we arrived Mama Bird began her Oscar performance.

Her distraction displays - or efforts to make us all believe that she had a severely broken wing were instinctual, incredible, and borderline unbelievable.

She would dive bomb our heads (we were giants to her, and numbers were most definitely in our favor). Once she got our attention she'd throw herself on the ground and drag her wing behind her body.

Her antics continued: wing dragging and stumbling and desperately trying to lead the 4 of us away from her nest. She chirped madly the entire time.

"Take me, take me, TAKE ME! " came her heartfelt cry, "Leave my babies and take me".

And I realize now, she did this all to preserve Hope.

Hope was encased in eggshells and rested in her tiny clutch of eggs. Hope was cradled by a mound of sand. Hope was hidden so precariously within the huge tire tracks of over-sand-vehicles near the high water mark of this majestic south shore beach.

(Tire tracks never make good nurseries, Mama Bird. But tonight, I forgive you.)

In the name of Hope, I forgive you.

***

I recounted this story to a colleague today for the first time in about 7 years. Together we marveled (as we often do) about the incredible experiences and great fortunes we've had working in and for the natural world.

But with this Mama Bird story now fresh in my mind, I find I'm wondering what my distraction display will look like when it comes time to protect my nest.

I have no wing to drag. I have no fight song to chirp (except for "Hail to the Victors" however, that just doesn't seem to cut it).

But, I do know that if challenged -

I will offer up myself in order to preserve Hope.

My Hope.

For My babies.

Because some days, it is this Hope (My Hope For Them),

that is the only thing keeping me going.

once there was a chooch, and he loved his t...

and his t loved him...

and they were happy...

Berrystraw Cakeshort

I love strawberries.
We have some growing and Eric says I can eat them all.
This is because he doesn't think there will be that many
and getting strawberry plants was my idea.
I wonder if that means he plans on eating all the
onions,
beans,
peas,
carrots,
tomatoes,
and peppers.
Because those were his idea.

I better share my strawberries.

Crab Walk

THEY HAD CUT THE POND. WHICH MEANT WE HAD TO WALK THE BOAT.

THROUGH THE SLIME AND MUCK AND GRASSES AND BARNACLES.

IT WAS A TEST OF BRI'S WILL POWER. I SHOUTED WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT AND TOLD HIM PEOPLE PAY GOOD MONEY AT SPAS TO BE WRAPPED IN THIS STUFF. AND WE WERE GETTING IT FOR FREE.

GOOD THING WE DIDN'T SEE ANY CRABS.

AND BRI DIDN'T LIVE UP TO HIS NICKNAME.

Already there.

Today I ran the last 2 miles of my 4 mile run with a 18-pack bud light box tucked under my arm.
It was just too big to pass by.

Actually, that's not entirely true.

The first time I saw it I ran right by it. It was on a steep uphill and I trudged by slowly and got about 20 ft in front of it.

But during those 20 ft a nagging, sinking, heavy feeling took over and so, (not wanting to spend the rest of my run with this feeling) I circled back for the box.

Darn you tree hugger heart of mine.

I tucked it under my sweaty left arm and pretended it was part of my running ensemble.

What?

Doesn't everyone run with an empty Budlight case under their arm?

Okay, I'll admit it. It was awkward. The rest of my run just felt - a little trashy.

But, the minute I picked it up it reminded me of a funny moment shared by a bus-load of Vineyard-Bound weekend warriors.

***

Memorial Day 2010.

We hop aboard the Palmer Ave bus and quickly notice that it is packed.

PACKED!

Somehow, we'd all managed to park in Palmer Ave, which was technically "full" already due to heavy weekend visitation. The rest were parking miles closer to the Bourne Bridge, but we had all outwitted, outsmarted and outplayed the masses and tucked ourselves in to the "regular" lot.

Sometimes it really is all about survival of the fittest.

Dogs outnumbered people, coolers were heavy and awkward, golf clubs are never easy, overstuffed duffles seemed to be strewn in every corner of the bus, and each child aboard the bus just wanted to stretch their legs. My two children included in that last observation.

Also, did I mention the dogs? And not all of them get along in such tight spaces.

Dec, Nonie, Dame and I found a nook and settled in.

With only 13 minutes left until our ferry set sail, it was not surprising that our bus remained stationary.

Why get to the ferry on time? That would be way, way, way too relaxing and predictable.

These bus driver like to wait until the absolute last minute to take off through Falmouth - keeping the busload of eager passengers wondering:

Will we make it?

Or, won't we?

Just when we were all certain no other human, dog or unnecessary piece of luggage could fit on the bus, two male twenty somethings hopped on board. Both with large duffles, both in flip flops and shades (the second was preppier than the first) - one lugged a surfboard and the other had a golf bag. A case of beer wedged under his arm.

They awkwardly stepped forward hoping no one would call them out (for making us miss/almost miss our ferry). They were also clearly hoping the impossible would happen: elbow room would somehow appear....

And in true Vineyard form, it did.

A loud shout came from the back of the bus:

"We got room for that beer right here!"

and then another:

"I can slide that beer between the emergency door and this stair railing!".

and, not to be outdone (a 60-ish year old male said):

"My father doesn't need his seat, bring that case my way..."

To which, a thunderous roar of laughter erupted through the bus.

Even the elderly father smiled.

Dec and Nonie broke out in laughter, though they had no idea what they (or we) were all laughing about.

My mood quickly changed from anxious and time conscious to relaxed and ready to savor my precious on-Island time. It really seemed like most of those on the bus followed suit.

Even though we hadn't gotten to the ferry terminal yet -

and hadn't even laid eyes on the Island....

In many ways - we'd already made it to the Vineyard.

STRA TEEG ICK PLA AN

That's "strategic plan" for you lay people.

And I just got out of a 3-hour strategic planning SESSION. Don't even TRY to hide your jealousy. I can smell it from here.

Maybe if you're nice, I'll show you my notes some day. Maybe.

***

I promise (insist, actually) that upon exiting the session this evening, I had no intention of blogging about strategic planning. In fact, writing wasn't really on the docket at all.

But then, I hung up the phone after speaking with Bri en route to the Riv, and realized I had just heard him describe his (very) well thought out, and creative PLANNED STRATEGY for making it to a ferry tomorrow evening. Impressive I tell you.

Just call him to hear for yourself. But don't use the term "strategic plan" - you may confuse him, he's a lay person.

His strategic plan involves trains, park & rides, carpools, and lots more "we'll do anything to avoid sitting in I-95 traffic on a summer Friday" kind of innovation.

***

So, I hung up with Bri and started ruminating on planned strategies.

You know, strategic plans.

Do I have a strategic plan? Do you?

Let me think about this.

***

Not saying I have a strategic plan for my weekend @ Happy House, but if I did it might just include (in NO particular order):

Being comfortable. Starting with my 18-year old lacrosse pants.

Gulp:

Figuring out what this thing is all about:

Tending to my flowers, getting dirt stuck under my nails (no better candy for my soul).

And, of course, singing

"old crow watches HUNG RILY" at least twice (cause once is never enough):

Eating one meal with Dec's favorite graduation present.

He exclaimed, "just what I always wanted!" upon opening it.

(Really Dec, have you even seen one of these before yesterday?)

Regardless, I have to give it a whirl:

Handing over the paint tubs to the kids and hope they laugh as much as they did during their paint parade:

For the record, I'll also eat an ice cream of some sort. I just didn't have a good photog of that.

Finally, what is a weekend without inserting

a little swing in places it has never been before?

'Cause after all,

One thing I won't do this weekend, is sit in traffic....

And neither will Bri.

(tell the island i miss her)

Save me, too

I suppose it was no surprise to me when I looked in the mirror tonight and saw a zit on my chin.

Because when I tried to corral 25 kindergarten students on the last day of school aka "Fun Day" with their parents lurking in the not-so-far-outskirts it did not go quite as smoothly as I had planned. If I had planned for 24(which I did), instead of 25 (which I didn't), on the one-of-the-last-days-of-school (which I did), instead of the last (which I didn't) it could have gone better.
But, alas...

Get to work. Blah, blah, blah.

By the time I picked up the pooch I was feeling ready for a walk. This was set back a few minutes when the gal informed me "face eater" showed up at daycare today.

"TAKE NO PRISONERS" he mouthed, right into another dog.
Chomp!
What's a gal to do? I cried, of course!
But, but... but. He's so... good.
Right?
Emotions were high.
There are people, he will learn, it's the hormones, don't give up, make it work.
We walked. A man came up behind us.
Heart raced.... please don't have a dog.
No dogs allowed.
Oh. We're gone.
Another place.
Dog.
Turn around.
Dog.
Cut across the field.
Phew.
Now I am the threat. Dog, dodge, dog, panic, dog, HELP!

I get to the grocery store and bee-line to the chip aisle. As chip-people go, I am not one. It just seemed right. The stress! Oh, and 2 for $4 Tootsie Rolls?
Well... I am my mother's daughter.

Drive home finds me thinking,
so maybe he's just not my dog. I tried,
he bit.
There will be others.

When we get there
he is perfect.
He always is.
Ah, yes, my dog.

Talk with Eric my mouth blurts "If he needs to be saved,
I want us to be the ones to do it."
What is that?
Ah yes, I am my mother's daughter.

I want to be the one who saves him.
His story,
he is telling it.
It is so sad.

I want to be the one who saves him.

Like Papa Does

In an effort not to waste we have started to do some things "like papa".

I have not taken it so far that I reuse my paper napkins, but you may find a half a yogurt in the fridge, or a slightly eaten banana sitting on the counter waiting for the next person to come along with half an appetite.

Sometimes we'll mix our cereals to create a medley of flavors and textures. A symphony for the mouth.

But the way the Xave KNOWS how to be like papa is when we eat our morning cereal.

"Hello Papa, we are about to eat our breakfast and I just wanted to let you know that we will eat it ALL UP."

We've mixed it up a little though. FIRST we drink all the milk, then get to the soggy O's.
Oh well.

We try.

Mary Mary Quite Contrary

How does your garden grow?

There is one more thing

There is ONE more thing you should know



My sister-in-law, Kara, is a maker and a baker... from scratch (me not so much).

SEE(fig. 1)

and guess what ?

it was

scrumpdeli-icious

SEE (below fig. 2)

And my brother-in-law (the groom) enjoyed it too.

and so did everyone else

SEE (fig.3)

Ibetthereisacleanplateinthekitchennow!

A Few Things You Should Know.

My sister is a triathlete.
(Her training secret is chocolate milk.)

Nonie doesn't charge much to mow the lawn.
(And she enjoys the steeps).

There is a big day coming up this week and we'll be wrinkle-free for it. Hoo Ra.

(When it comes to ironing...I am my father's daughter.)

My mother made me "talk to the hand" during her race on Sunday.
And I had lots to say.

this was our big night out at pearl jam with K and D...


we had a blast....


i think bri couldn't focus based on the loudness of the music, but he was having fun too....

we call this
"shoulders in the ears"
it's the pose that says,
"i'm nervous, but my inner diva won't let me sit this one out"

she was, i don't have to tell you,
the best one in the spring concert.
belting out
"i DO not like them, sam i am"
(yes, green eggs and ham can be set to music and performed by 40 kinders and 1st graders fairly nicely)
it was another magical evening
in this,
the year of magic...

ps-
i have met drake
i have watched him with his
mini-cousins
i have walked him at length
i have decided he is good
through and through.
piper too ate a couple of faces,
non??

The things I'd sooner forget.

I'd sooner forget that just hours ago "my" dog held another dog's stomach firmly between his teeth.

And that moments after that he held a different dog's mouth EVEN MORE firmly between his teeth.

I'd sooner forget that I cried because I felt helpless and disappointed.

And that when I called the dog lady she said "you don't have to adopt him".

I'd sooner forget the wild look on his face, as if he'd been in that situation before. But with no one to pull him off.

And that he has a story to tell. About being alone, and sick. About wandering and fighting. Defending and attacking.

I'd sooner forget this feeling of frustration. With a dog. I want to give him unconditional love.

And stop calling him "face eater".

But if it looks like a duck...
and bites like a duck...

Photo Essay - Deadly Medley - Four Parts

"I like big butts"

"On the road again"

"Put me in coach..."

"Life is a highway..."

deeohgee

Meet the newest dog in your life.
His name is Drake.
He is VERY handsome.







See?

He likes to rest and work and rest.




Sometimes he likes dogs,
(he's the cute one on the right)



and sometimes he tries to eat their faces off
(haven't been able to capture this shot yet).

Sometimes he is naughty and only sits when we give him pup-peroni.



But then I think about him being alone in the woods at night in Tennessee.
And I feel like I should cut him a break from time to time.



The

End.