Little Bits of Good News

Several wonderful things happened. First, the folks at my ISP got me into Dr. G's web site again, and second, it turns out I was more intelligent than I gave myself credit for. Not only did I save all the passwords in a password protected file on my hard drive, but I also saved it in a non password protected file on my external hard drive. I also found a legal work-around for my squirrely program. Not ideal, but definitely legal. Woo-hoo! I'm back in business, Baby!!!

Lemme tell you, that external hard drive was the very best purchase I ever made since the purchase of the computer itself.

THEN, I opened a drawer in my desk, which I rarely open and there were my WordPerfect disks. I was able to reinstall WordPerfect after all (though, oddly enough, installing it appears to have erased the Password file. Guru said he had saved all the old files, but apparently he saved all the OLD files, before I created the Password file. But, since I'd already made a copy of it in a NON-WordPerfect format, I didn't lose anything. But I have Word Perfect back again. Color me happy.

Another good thing to report is that the miles to nowhere is producing results. When I first got the treadmill, my average top speed was 2.0 mph and when I was feeling sluggish, I dropped it down to 1.8. The average speed is now 2.3. Once I hit that, I leave it there for the whole time I'm on the machine, a time which is now extending from 5-10 min at a time to 10-15 min at a time. And, I hate to admit it, but I really feel better once I finish.

Starting anything like this is always a big adjustment, but apparently I'm getting into the groove and I'm exercising more than I have since my bike accident. I wish I could say that the eating was getting into the groove too, but baby steps, right?

Another good thing: we had our first really good webcam conference with Tom, Laurel and Brianna

(that's Walt's sister in back, and Laurel to the left)

Tom got his audio fixed and we could chat very well...and we almost got to hear Brianna cry, but we ended the chat before that happened. I know that looking at us on the screen right now doesn't mean a thing to her, but I hope that if we keep up regular chats, we won't just be the "distant grandparents" and at least we'll look somewhat familiar to her,between visits, as she grows up.

We are going to drive down to Santa Barbara on Thursday, so we'll have the weekend to visit with the new family, and with Walt's mother.

While we're gone, Ashley is going to move into our house with her (how many?) dogs and take care of our dogs (plus Russell). We decided this was easier than moving Russell to a new foster home. The dogs should be thrilled to have Ashley, whom they love, around. I did promise her I would clean up, though, so I have my work cut out for me between now and then. It will also give Ashley a chance to assess Russell's readiness for going back to adoption events at Petco.

I'm slowly getting Russell's trust back. Food is an amazing lure. Russell is desperate for a taste of anything I eat (I discovered last night he'll even try to steal red wine out of my glass!). After my mistake in trying to catch and cage him when he came to get a treat a week or so ago, he's been very leery of coming near me if I'm standing up, though he immediately leaps into my lap whenever I sit down.

But last night and today he actually did come and take a treat out of my hands, keeping as far away from me as possible while doing so. He also will let Walt pet him now and doesn't bark all the time whenever Walt comes into the room (though he did bark nonstop at my sweatshirt on a chair yesterday all the time I was on the treadmill!)

I'm thinking that maybe by next Saturday he will be ready to go up for adoption. He's going to make some family a really nice pet.

I came across some pictures of Bissell today and remembered how tempted I was to adopt him, and how sad it was to have him leave, but how glad I was that he'd found a good home. People always ask me how I can bear to watch these dogs go away. Actually, it's easy. I look at some of Russell's bad habits (like I did some of Bissell's bad habits)

and know that I don't have to work all that hard to break them of the habit because it will soon be someone else's problem. I get the best of these puppies, all the love they have to give. I get to feed them and cuddle them and laugh at their antics. And then when problems come up, I give them to the next family to deal with.

It's kind of how I plan to treat Brianna!!!

Dogs - Weight - Memes

No, this is not about a "dog weight meme." It starts with the sad/happy news that Bissell has a forever home. This one was difficult for me. He was the first puppy that I've been "that" close to suggesting we adopt, which is surprising even to me, since I didn't particularly like him when I first brought him home. He was "ok," but he was replacing Chunk, whom I loved so much (but would never have thought of adopting). But Bissell really grew on me and the longer he was here, the more I started to wonder if we could, possibly adopt him.

But I knew that if we were to adopt him, (a) we could no longer foster puppies, and (b) I'd eventually regret it.

Ashley said she had two really good applications for him and had to choose from between them. The family who adopted him lives in the Sacramento area and they have a 7 year old Whippet. I've often wondered if Bissell had some Whippet in him. He was getting so tall and lanky and he had that built-for-speed body shape of a Whippet. Watching him "whip" around here chasing Lizzie did nothing to change that opinion.

I didn't get to meet the family, because Walt had the car and I asked Ashley to come and pick him up, rather than bring him to Petco myself. She offered to take me with her, but I decided to say my goodbye to Bissell here at home. There was a tear or two, but I know there will be new puppies. In fact, Ashley offered me a puppy that needs a home, but since my friend Mary will be here for a visit next week and then Walt and I are going to Santa Barbara again, I told her I'd prefer to wait until after we return from the next (last) baby shower.

My little puppy is now settling in to a new home. I missed him when I went to sleep last night--no puppy on my feet or climbing up onto my shoulder to pat my face before going to sleep, but I'm very happy that he has a new home.

The second subject of this entry is a book meme which I may actually have done before, but I read it again in Alan's book blog and I thought it would be an interesting way to give you a taste for James Lipton's book, "Inside Inside." The instructions are simple: Take a book, go to page 123, look for the 5th sentence and copy the next three sentences. So here is an excerpt from Lipton's book:

Of all the classical arts, dance is the most frankly erotic--when it chooses to be, and sometimes when it doesn't. I tried to describe the dance's sensual roots in my novel 'Mirrors,' asking, what is a classical pas de deux, in Swan Lake or The Sleeping Beauty or Giselle or Jerome Robbins' Afternoon of a Faun, but 'he basic configuration of dance and life: one male, one female, squared off face to face, one on one.

And here I was at the barre, in tights, constrained only by a dance belt, executing a grand plie in second position behind an exquisite eighteen year old danseuse in an identical inviting position.

Dancing is only one of Lipton's talents, which include acting, directing, producing, TV hosting, song writing, being a pilot, and, for a brief time, a pimp in Paris, among many other things. He's also married to Miss Scarlet...the real Miss Scarlet, the picture on the card in the game Clue.

Reading in the Observation Car on the train

And finally, here she goes again, folks. I think this is the third or fourth time that I've decided to deal seriously with weight in this journal. Stick around long enough and you discover how I live my life in circles. If I had known how this journal was going to be around, would have named it something like "YoYo Living."

So here's the deal. First of all my family, for some reason, wants to make sure I'm around for a long time and, having been reading all of my complaints about being dragged to the gym occasionally, they have decided to buy me a treadmill for my birthday. At first I protested that it was too much for all of them who are struggling financially, but Ned is adamant and I'm starting to get excited about it, for all sorts of reasons. Mostly that I won't have to actually dress for the gym; I won't feel self-conscious standing next to a jogging 80 year old when I'm plodding along at my own pace; I won't worry about accidentally bumping into Dr. G and not living up to his critique; but most of all, with a treadmill here in house, I will use it every day. It will become a constructive reason to procrastinate doing anything else in the house.

The need to get more exercise has become more important now that I've decided to go with the women's group to France and Italy next year. It will give me a year and a half to get to the point where I can walk down the driveway to pick up the newspaper without getting winded. I'm really excited about the trip, especially now that Jeri has decided she wants to come too. She's figuring out if she can do it, but I'm very hopeful. Charlotte's 3 daughters are coming, all of whom are good friends of Jeri's. The trip is already turning into something exciting.

Here's the rough itinerary:

day 1 - leave from US
day 2, 3 and 4 in Paris
day 5 in Provence
day 6, 7 and 8 in Nice
day 9 zip to Italy (doesn't specify method) and drive to Cinque Terre
day 10 in Santa Margherita Ligure (Cinque Terre)
day 11, 12 and 13 in Florence and nearby areas.
day 14 fly home

At the same time that I'm wanting to get in shape for the trip, Peach is talking about going back on Weight Watchers, not going to meetings, but using the materials she (and I) already have and forming our own support group. We'll check in with each other each Friday and compare notes and weights.

AND also at the same time, Ned's sister-in-law has started "The Biggest Loser" group, a bunch of people who have each put in $20 and at the end of six months, the one who loses the most gets all the money. I've joined that group too. Maybe I can earn money to help with expenses on the trip.

So it appears that all the stars are in alignment and that once again, this is the time to see if I can do it again, like I did for the Australia trip.

And yes, I realize this is like deja vu for those of you who have been reading this journal for years, but...hey!...my readership always goes up when I start writing about weight, so it seems inevitable that I'll do it again.

Don't cry...

I can't remember where I first read it, but sometime within the past six months. An absolutely wonderful quote, which I add to my signature on the internet, whenever I add a signature (which I don't usually).

Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened.

Isn't that a wonderful way to look at life?

It is a given that we won't make it out of this life without loss, disappointment, pain, etc. But somehow it brings such peace to look at it from this point of view.

I think about Paul and David and I try not to grieve their loss, but to celebrate the fact that we had them throughout their childhood and were able to watch them grow into men, and especially now to periodically get messages from people who knew them, telling me what a difference they made in their lives.

How can you not smile because they lived and made a difference in their part of the world?

How can I not smile, remembering the Lawsuit years, instead of grieving the ending of the band before they had their shot at stardom?

I think about the friendships I've lost, whether through death or "attrition," those people who leave your immediate circle and move on. There is a lot of temptation to grieve what is no more, but how much better to smile at the memories.

How can I not smile when I think about all the things that Gilbert and I did? How can I not smile when I remember "MQA" nights with Lynn and Rosemarie, when we would have dinner, and then sit around for hours trying to solve the problems of our worlds. How can I not smile when I remember the progressive dinners we had at The Secretariat and the closeness Melody and I had? How can I not smile when I remember all the fun Peggy and I had here and in Australia? How can I not smile when I think of the jobs that I loved and lost and the friendships that were part of those jobs, now gone as well?

So much better than crying or being bitter because those things are no longer part of my life.

How can I not smile when I think of all the puppies we've had, some of whom have grown to adults and now live with their own families, some of whom didn't make it, but who died in a loving environment.

How can I not smile when I think of all the years and all the foreigners who passed through our house, almost all of whom have now disappeared from contact. What fun we had with parties, and English lessons, and trips to see the sights of California. It would be easy to grieve the fact that we no longer have contact with most of them, but it's much more peaceful to smile, remembering all the high points, and forgetting the bad points.

How can I not smile when I look at our children -- at the adults they have become -- instead of feeling sad about our empty nest and how seldom we see them now that they have their own lives.

When good things end, even if they end badly, how much better to dwell on the good parts and tuck the bad parts away (after awhile...sometimes you have to deal with the bad stuff). Nothing is going to change the status quo, so why not revel in the good stuff?

---

The one problem with keeping mid-age puppies for a longer time is that they feel that this is home, they start to settle in and start getting into mischief.

Bissell is really feeling his oats, now that he's been here (is it only two?) weeks.

He loves clearing things off of the table between our chairs (which means I now have an excuse to have to clean the table).

He's a terrible beggar at the kitchen table. Sheila and Lizzie sit and watch me intently, hoping I'll feed them. Even Chunk learned to sit patient and watch. But not Bissell. Bissell is a whirling dervish leaping and leaping and leaping, trying to beg for food (we are having "discussions" about that!)

But the flip side of that is that he's getting the idea about going out on his own for purposes of elimination. He even went out in the rain today, which was very nice. I haven't really found any puddles since he's been here, though Walt did discover a hidden cache of poop in the living room. But we may have ended that. One can only hope.

He and Lizzie have become great friends and nighttime is their time to race back and forth from back door to living room and back again. It's such fun watching Bissell run, kind of like a gazelle.

Tonight I swept up a huge pile of styrofoam that he'd torn into bits all over the room, scattered with pieces of a magazine he'd torn up. I left it all in a big pile while I went to get a dustpan. All of a sudden I heard this "whoosh." Just like a little kid jumping into a pile of autumn leaves, Bissell had slid across the floor right through the pile of garbage I'd just swept up.

I was sorry to have missed seeing it. He's a funny little dog. I'm sure his new family will love him. Soon. Please.

Round Babies vs. Pointy Babies

Walt came in last night holding Bissell in his arms. The puppy was cuddled up under his chin.

"You know," he started. "Bissell is very sweet, and he's cuddly and he's hardly any trouble at all...." he paused

"...but you miss Chunk," I easily finished his sentence because I was feeling the same way.

What's not to like about Bissell? He's the perfect puppy. He is quiet, affectionate, plays well with Lizzie. Other than tearing up a magazine (which I let him do), he hasn't gotten into any mischief. He is about half housebroken and his accidents in the house are minor and very easy to pick up (compared to Chunk's copious applesauce-textured piles!)

He cuddles in my lap when I sit in my recliner, just like Chunk used to and at night he curls up on my feet and sleeps all night, not waking until I wake up.

But I miss Chunk too.

What was there about that silly little girl? We both agree we have no desire to own the adult Chunk but, pain in the butt that she was, there was something special about that little puppy.

I was rubbing Bissell's head last night, as he buried his head in my armpit, the way Chunk used to and I thought about Kimba and wondered if the reason I can't warm up to Bissell is the same reason I never warmed up to Kimba.

It's something about the round softness of most babies of most species. I remember seeing a baby rhino in the Perth zoo and thinking how cute it was. Rhinos are not, by any stretch of the imagination, "cute" but something about this round little big-eyed baby who was just cute. She was so similar to her mother, who was not in the least cute, but the softened edge to the baby made her somehow...different.

There was that same round softness to Chunk.

See the difference? Chunk's eyes are round, her nose is round, her whole face is round, compared to the more elongated, pointed look of Bissell.

I guess it's the "roundness" that appeals to me.

It's not that I don't like Bissell. As I said, what's not to like? He's very endearing. It's just that there are some puppies who crawl into your heart and stay there. Bissell will stay his time here with and then move on and I won't feel any great loss.

But I do feel the loss of Chunk.

It's really funny how you just click with some dogs, just like you click with some people. It's like when Lizzie arrived here, with the name "Happy." I knew from the moment she bounded through the door and leaped up on me (which she hasn't stopped doing since) that we were going to keep this dog.

She must have known it, too, because within the first hour she ran away. She'd never been here before and I didn't have a prayer of her coming back. I drove all over the place, Walt rode his bike all over. We finally came back to the house to contact Ashley and let her know that we had lost the new dog.

That's about when Lizzie came running up the driveway. I guess she figured she knew a good thing when she saw it and, somehow, she found her way back.

Chunk won't find her way back. She is in a great home. And I don't want her back. But I miss that little thing around here. It's just not the same with Bissell.

Thirty-Four More Days!

I ordered my copy from Amazon months ago -- did you?

Now there are only 34 more days left before the release of Schuyler's Monster, Rob Rummel-Hudson's book about his daughter, Schuyler, who suffers from Congenital Bilateral Perisylvian Syndrome (CBPS), an incurable condition which prevents her from speaking.

Things are getting exciting for Rob now. I received a publicity release from his publisher (St. Martin's Press) this afternoon, with all the publicity surrounding the release of the book. How I wish I were either in New York or Texas so I could attend some of these events.

Rob also says that the February issue of Good Housekeeping has a long-ish article with a full page photo of Schuyler. I can hardly wait till tomorrow when I will rush out and get a copy.

I rarely use a term like "blessed," but "blessed" is what I feel to have "known" Schuyler since her birth. I wrote about her a year ago, when some threats were made on her life. If you read Rob's entry for today, you'll know why I feel "blessed" to have Schuyler in my "imaginary life."

I don't know what life has in store for this amazing little "mute cyborg" (as Rob calls her in his book), but there is something very special about this child and I hope that I am going to be able to continue to share in her life, from afar, as she begins to expand her horizons.

(both photos have been "stolen" from Rob's Flickr site, with apologizes to the photographer, but I suspect he won't mind)

---

Bissell is expanding his horizons too. I heard what I assumed was Lizzie playing with Sheila this afternoon. It went on for some time, the sounds of "mouth wrestling." But then I realized Sheila was asleep on my foot. I stood up and looked out into the family room, and there was Bissell, playing happily with Lizzie. That made me feel so good, because he was so nervous around the other two when he got here.

He's eating better, too. After Sheila lashed out at him, he was very nervous about eating, even with me riding herd on the other two (who are really quite respective of individual bowls, but the unspoken rule is that if you walk away, the food is up for grabs, and Bissell didn't know that). But now he eats well. He also goes out side -- some of the time, so I don't have big puddles as often as with Chunk, who was the doggie equivalent of a Betsy Wetsy doll.

I also decided not to cage him at night. This little guy is literally glued to my body and even if he's sound asleep in my chair, if I move, he moves. So last night I just took him into the living room with me when I went to sleep. He slept on my feet all night and we both felt better for it.

I don't know how long this little guy is going to be here and, truth to tell, he hasn't grabbed my heart the way Chunk did, but he's very sweet and he'll make someone a lovely puppy, when the right person comes along.

Taking Mike Huckabee's Picture

I tried to get a photo of Mike Huckabee today and it was extremely frustrating. I had to take an article down to the newspaper office and Walt showed up in this huge black van and said he was coming with me. At some point we stopped, near Ellen and Shelly's house. Huckabee was there, talking to a woman and I thought how cool it would be to have a picture of homophobic Huckabee in front of the town's best known lesbians.

But as I tried to surreptitiously get my camera, more and more people kept coming to hear what he was saying. He was in rare form. He even pulled out a guitar and did a Johnny Cash impression.

I was trying to figure out how to turn off the flash so that he wouldn't know I was taking his picture, but even though I'd done it a number of times, in my haste to try to get it turned off, I couldn't remember which buttons to push.

I finally took a few photos, but every single time I went to take a picture, someone walked right in front of me, so all I got were pictures of half of his face or the top of his head.

He didn't seem to mind, though. He just went on talking and talking and talking, as the crowd kept getting larger. He talked so much he woke me up and I discovered I was sitting in the recliner, with Bissell in my lap like Chunk always was, and Mike Huckabee was the guest on Face the Nation. (I also remembered that just about the time I went to sleep, there was a bit about Johnny Cash on the Sunday Morning show.)

Dreams are very strange.

It's not surprising I was having weird dreams early on a Sunday morning. After our marathon floor cleaning session and the heavy Chinese meal, I had pretty much passed out in the recliner while watching something on television. It was midnight when I woke up and staggered into the couch.

So when I woke up, wide awake, and it was still dark, I wasn't upset because I had obviously had a lot of sleep. I checked the clock, without my glasses on, and saw that it was only 5 a.m. But I was wide awake, so I got up, and took Bissell (whom I had left out of the cage, since he was sleeping so soundly in the recliner) outside, hoping he'd pee (he didn't).

I came back inside and settled down to watch the Biography program about Anne Landers, which was an hour show I had recorded earlier in the week (fascinating lady, by the way!). Bissell happily snoozed in my lap. When the show was over, I checked the clock and, to my amazement saw that it was only 4:30. I don't know how I'd thought it was 5 and hour and a half earlier!

I think that, even though I was getting it in broken up segments, I probably had more sleep last night than usual--but it was a weird night.

Bissell is a funny little dog. Very skittish, especially after being attacked by Sheila last night. He only wants to live in a lap. If he can't have mine, he'll take Walt's. By 9:30 a.m. he still hadn't peed since he took off across the kitchen trailing urine behind him. I've taken him outside several times, but he only wants me to pick him up so he doesn't have to put his little paws on that cold concrete or the wet grass.

He also wouldn't eat breakfast, which is not surprising given how painful it was for him the last time.

I tried taking him into the laundry room with me and closing the door, but he was still too nervous.

He didn't eat until mid-day, when we distracted the older dogs in the living room. We eventually found a big pee puddle on the newly washed floor (sigh) (he also left some nicely formed piles, which are NOT the consistency of applesauce, which I very much appreciated!), so at least all his systems are working

He seems to have "nested." He found an old magazine, tore it into shreds at my feet, curled into a ball on top of the pieces, and has been sleeping there ever since, unless I move, when he follows me. When the other dogs come near his little nest, he barks a warning bark and they go away.

He may be little, but he seems to be fierce. Already my protector!