Welcome friends...thanks for coming by. We're seeking beauty in all of creation... in our faith and our families; our art and our music; our crafts and kitchens, and even in our own backyard. We'll share a poem or a recipe, a picture or a memory; maybe a dream of how we wish our life could be. And though we acknowledge that the world can be harsh, we're keeping it pleasant in our little corner; endeavoring to keep the words from the Book of all Books: ...Whatsoever things are lovely; think on these things.

I so enjoy hearing from you...so leave me a comment; it'll make my day!

Photo: Bee and thistle: Taken high in the Cascade Mountains where there is a bee buzzing on every thistle. by Debora Rorvig

Showing posts with label koda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label koda. Show all posts

Thursday, June 27, 2013

My Personal Plea for Chained Dogs- I Beg You To Read This!

I am reposting this piece (and will continue to do so occasionally) to remind folks not to chain their dogs...



As by now, you are aware, we had to say goodbye to our beloved dog because of an incident precipitated by Leash Agression.

Yesterday I called our trainer, Jennifer, to tell her the news. She too, was saddened by this incident. Koda was so bright and personable, she could have been a wonderful dog. Jennifer was very kind and consoling, assuring me that we had done everything in our power to retrain Koda. We discussed the role that the psychology of her past had played in the incident. One of Koda's former owners, a young man, used to take her to work on the night shift at a cement plant and tie her up ourside. It is likely that he unwittingly caused her much psychological damage in doing this.

Jennifer told me that in her experience, more than 90% of the dogs she deals with who have issues, have been affected by human treatment. I find this appalling. Power comes with responsibility. We as humans have a great responsibility to the creatures on this planet. Our everyday decisions impact their individual destinies, and ultimately their survival as a species.

Eons ago, the wild canine species, for some reason, agreed to domestication. Probably of necessity and later out of affection. Think of all of the other wild animals who have not submitted to human will. But cats and dogs, horses, and a few others have willingly come under our subjugation. There is no turning back to wildness for them, nowhere to go. Now they are utterly dependent upon man for their existence. In return for this dependence, they are mistreated and abandoned at our whim; treated as an object for our amusement...discarded when they are no longer wanted. Our shelters are bursting at the seams and animals are being euthanized at a rate that would shame Auschwitz. Perhaps it is we, and not the canine who are animals!

I am posting this excerpt from Life on Chain by Margaret LaTour,  http://www.spdrdogs.org/pdf/Life%20on%20a%20Chain.pdf ,  in an effort to educate people about the horrible practice of chaining dogs, and the effect it has upon them. Please take the time to read this article, then educate your family, your friends, and your co-workers about it. Please do this for me...and for Koda.





Why is a Chain Abusive?


Dogs are social animals, needing to be with their human families.       Being chained outside isolates them and denies them this basic need. The dog quickly becomes neglected and its intellect must find other   outlets – for instance, digging, chewing, barking, nervous pacing,     and aggression, all for which the dog will be punished.


The behavior of the chained dog is a result of fear. S/he is exposed to danger, real or imagined, and cannot run away or defend. This   dog lives in a world of terror. The dog can see its outer territory -  
the house, other parts of the yard – and cannot defend it. This drives them to intensify defense of the small area they occupy, the perimeter of the chain. Many people have been bitten by a chained dog.


The chained dog receives little or no positive, loving attention. What they do get from people is teasing, taunting, poisoning, thrown rocks, and more terror. Since the chained dog is exposed to whatever comes by, s/he becomes, in the words of Dennis Fetko, Ph.D., “defensively aggressive. The chain/tether also promotes attack by triggering an opposition reflex (thigmotaxis).”


Living life on a chain is also dangerous. I recently grief counseled a man who had tied up his 11 month old female German Shepherd in his yard and went into his house. Thirty minutes later, he found his dog hanged to death on the other side of the fence. Another 14-month old female German Shepherd was brought to the Bellevue Humane Society for attempting the same maneuver. Besides this danger, there is the very real chance of attack from stray dogs,
coyotes, or raccoons. The chained dog cannot get away. Also, physical injury can result from the chain or rope itself— neck injury, injury to the trachea or larynx, or to the teeth from chewing on the    chain. Herniated disks can occur from pulling against the tension.     


The chained dog always remains exposed to the whims of people      outside. A person intent on robbing the house or hurting its occupants is aided by the chain. Also, a person who intends to         
injure the dog has no obstacle. Dogs belong in homes with their        families. Any applicant coming through SPDR{Seattle Purebred        Dog Rescue} applying for a dog that will be chained is denied.       

These are just a few reasons why.
 
 
 



Friday, October 21, 2011

A Thank-you, A Halloween Song, and a Hopeful Heart

I've been saving this picture from the Lynden Fair to share with you this month. I know Halloween isn't for a 10 days, but the kids at school are really getting excited, and their enthusiasm is contagious! Now I'm not the biggest fan of witches and goblins, but I've gotta say; this handmade rug is pretty darn cute. It would be so darling on the porch next to the pumpkins and cornstalks! It reminds me of a song we used to sing in elementary school: 

One little, two little, three little witches,
Fly over haystacks, fly over ditches,
Slide down moon beams without any hitches,
Hey ho Hallowe'en's here!

Horned owl's hooting, it's time to go riding,
Deep in the shadows are black cats hiding,
With gay little goblins, sliding, gliding,
Hey ho Hallowe'en's here!

Stand on your head with a lopsided wiggle,
Tickle your little black cats till they giggle,
Swish through clouds with a higgedy, piggle,
Hey ho Hallowe'en's here!




Thanks to you all for your kind thoughts, prayers, and words of encouragement over the past couple of weeks. I felt your prayers, truly! We've moved from tears to sighs over our Koda, and can now laugh about her antics and the fun times we've had. My wound is healing.

I'm about halfway through knitting my 'doggin hat'; the new one I'm making - hoping and believing that I'll be wearing it with a new canine companion. Today a co-worker told me she needs to give her 9-month-old purebred black lab away. She hasn't the time to really take care of him. So we are going over on Sunday for a visit to meet him. Kind of a blind date. Maybe this is the one for us.

In the meantime, please send up some prayers for Koda. The lady who now has her can only keep her for a limited time. She's looking for a nice big farm with pastures to run in-where Koda will never again be chained, or even on a leash. It has to be that way for my girl. She won't survive in any other setting. So please join me in praying that she'll find just the right place. I think God cares about these things, don't you?

Hope you have a beautiful autumn weekend!


From Peanuts...The Great Pumpkin




Friday, October 14, 2011

The Significance of A Lost Hat

Something happened last weekend on our trip to Fort Ebey. At the time it seemed fairly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but now it has taken on great meaning to me. I lost my stocking cap. My favorite hand-knitted, Red-Heart, wheat-colored, with little flecks of blue and red and yellow hat. I must have dropped it along the trails as we hiked down to the beach. It was very hot that day and I was sweating. I took off my jacket and wrapped it about my waist and tucked the cap into a pocket. It was only when we returned to camp that I noticed it was missing. But I was far to weary to retrace our steps that day. The next day I took a shortcut down to the beach and searched high and low among the driftwood and kelp. But it wasn't there. It was probably somewhere along the grassy bluff, or maybe a gust of wind had blown it into the water. I hated to leave without it, but it was time to go.

You see, this hat was my 'doggin' hat. The one I alway wore when out with Koda in cool weather. I thought it's nubby texture and wheat colors matched her beautiful golden coat and her rugged beauty. I know you might think me silly to have coordinated my hat to my dog, but it somehow made me feel cozy inside and well-just happy. We were a pair, she and I, and it felt good to look the part.

After my sad parting with Koda this week, I'm glad I left the hat back there. Right in the place where my friend and I had last walked happily together. This is the place I'll choose to leave my memories of her. Where shocks of golden grasses wave to the sun and where the ocean touches the horizon. That hat, somewhere along the trail, will be my tribute to my dear, dear canine friend.

And today, after having taken the past few days to grieve, I've decided to pick up my knitting needles and to make a new hat. I'll pick rich, happy colors as a symbol of good days to come, and of the time that once again, with a new canine companion I'll don my hiking boots and hat to walk the forest trails and the rugged Northwest beaches. Yes, I am still very sad. Yet I know that 'weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning.' So I'll take my time to knit that hat, knowing that as meticulously as I weave the yarn together into a beautiful and useful garment, so my Father is taking up the threads of my life and  binding up my ravelled heart-carefully  fashioning a life of beauty and meaning in me.

Thank you all for your kind words and thoughts.  It means more than you can imagine.




Thursday, October 13, 2011

What Happened

If you follow this blog at all, you'll know how much in love I am with my dog, Koda. We adopted Koda a year ago from a farm. There are many reasons too numerous to explain about why she couldn't stay on the farm. None of those reasons had to do with her temperment or character. So when we got Koda, we noticed a few things about her. First is her intelligence. We've been challenged to keep ahead of this girl! We enlisted the help of a trainer; not just any trainer but one who works with search and rescue dogs and bomb sniffing dogs. She says Koda's smart enough to do these jobs. But Koda has one piece of baggage; leash agression. Leash agression is a behavior that certain dogs adopt because for whatever the reason, they feel insecure when they are on a leash. It usually stems from past abuse or being chained up for long periods (which by the way, IS abuse.) Anyway, Koda knows  over 30 different commands, is loving and beautiful, and has brought my husband and I through some very difficult personal circumstances over the past year. She's been a Godsend to us, and really an angel. I love her as I would love my children. But she has been difficult to walk, because of the leash agression. Every time she sees another animal coming her way, she panics. She lunges, growls, barks, and really, just loses it. We have spent countless hours with our trainer trying to find ways to help her past her fears. Once when I walked her, we saw a dog, she barked and growled and lunged, and when they were past us she dropped to the ground shaking and whimpering, and didn't even want to walk back home. It was a full-on anxiety attack. It's heartbreaking. Living in town, we need to walk her for exercise. We run her in the back yard and play with her, hike with her and take her swimming, but practically speaking, if she is not to become a prisoner in our back yard, she needs to go walking. So a couple of days ago I took her for a short walk, just up the street, hoping that staying on familiar ground would be comforting to her. We were approached by another dog and she lost it. I was holding her leash very tight so she wouldn't get loose and run over to them. She was so frustrated that she turned and bit me very hard in the thigh. I finally got her home and put her in the kennel and examined the bite. It was large. She has never done this before, but the message I am taking from this is "Mom, I've tried my hardest to be everything you've asked me to be, but I just can't do these walks. I am just too frightened to do this anymore."
 And so with a broken heart I have to tell you that I called her former owner and asked her to take her back and try to find her a nice home in the country on a farm with lots of room to roam around.
My hubby and I feel absolutely crushed over this. We know that we have done the right thing for Koda and for us, but it is so painful. I cannot describe the emptiness I feel coming home and not seeing her bright smile and wagging tail to greet me...or to have her come and drop her ball in my lap with a rufff, as if to say "Come on Mom, let's play!"
Some might say that this was a vicious dog. She is not. She is coping with surroundings that she did not have control over the best way that she knows. And in her world it's acceptable. It's just another kind of behavior. She would never bite anyone unless she was tied up. We know that.
I will recover from the bite just fine, probably much sooner than my heart will heal.

We will get another dog someday, but there will never be another Koda.

(p.s. Please, please, even if you mean well, do not send me advice on how I might have 'fixed' Koda. We spent thousands of dollars on training and I've read hundreds of books and articles on the subject. We know all of the techniques. Tried most of them. The ones we didn't try were electric collars and beatings. We just couldn't do that to our friend.)


I love that smile.





Koda, in Native American terms means 'friend'. I will miss you, my friend.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Gettin' On Down the Road In Style

Koda's not quite ready to stay in hotels. We're not ready to give up vacations. The solution...our new Kodahome. This way we can travel comfortably with our furry friend and pull our little boat. Next year it's Yellowstone or bust!


There was a vintage RV rally in Lynden this weekend. I love, love, love vintage trailers. Even though we're not ready to buy one, we stopped to have a look. What fun!
This one had a definite 'Jetson's theme.' It's circa 1961.
Folks take this seriously. It's not enough to have a vintage trailer. One must have the matching automobile, bicycle, and every other vintage accessory one can imagine. Love the old car.
Adorable. The striped awnings are so cute.
This is a 1954 tent trailer.
I really like these little pastel colored trailers.
Teardrops are cute, but Kelly and I agree, we couldn't sleep in one. Too confining.
The back of them opens up to become a full service kitchen. Very nifty. But you've gotta have good weather for these units...or a nice canopy and some great outdoor clothing.
Pile the kids into the old station wagon and off you go. Play the license plate game, I spy, Beetle safety, and if things get too rowdy threaten to pull the car over if they don't straighten up. Remember?
A slice of vintage Americana. Love it!


Thursday, September 1, 2011

Koda

Koda's spending the night at the veterinary hospital...she ate something disagreeable and they're keeping an eye on her tummy. They want to be sure it passes through her digestive tract OK. Words cannot express how much I miss her tonight. She became a part of our pack on Halloween 2010 and she's changed our lives forever. Kelly and I are both head over heels in love with this dog. She's my child, my friend, companion, commiserator, playmate, walking partner, and more. I hate it that she's spending the night alone. Just hate it! I'm sure she's gonna be just fine, and I'm mighty glad to have such a great doggy doctor (and the money it takes to pay him) but I want my sweet Koda dog here...tail a-waggin', goofy smile, and all!




Wednesday, August 3, 2011

My Town at 8 p.m: In 2064 Steps

Lynden is known for it's Dutch heritage, tree-lined Main Street, abundance of churches, and meticulously groomed yards.

According to my pedometer I walked 2064 steps this evening. Didn't take the camera...all you bloggers know why! Walking with a camera means dilly dallying...stopping here, wandering over there. Tonights walk was about exercise...sorta.

So without pictures, save one I took this afternoon, I'll try to paint a word picture of what I saw in 2064 steps.

I head toward the City Park, just a few blocks from my house. Underneath a canopy of old growth firs and maple trees, Fishtrap Creek meanders through the center of the park. A pair of towhead girls of Dutch descent I guess-twins--maybe 3 years old; are wading in the creek with dad. They spot a fish and squeal, reaching in vain with chubby hands to catch the slippery thing. One goes kerplunk on the slippery rocks and then the other...and now daddy has to carry both crying toddlers to the shore. One the other side of the creek a family is eating cake and singing 'Happy Birthday' while the birthday girl opens her Barbie Town House and uncle shows off his new yellow lab puppy. I'd like to stop and pet that dog, but I don't.

Moving on I pass a pair of muscle-bound teenage boys, clad only in running shorts and Nikes. They're having a chin-up contest on the bars. Preening, hoping that some girls will happen by and notice that they are buff. Too bad, it's just me; I'm 55 and though I notice; I'm not too impressed with their pecs.

I'm now in the darkest part of the park, and wonder if it's wise to be walking here alone at dusk. But this is Lynden...where people return lost wallets and stop when you cross the street-where the neighbors help you fix your car; and practically the whole town is related, or a relative of a relative. It's not Mayberry RFD, but it's pretty darn close.

Across the railroad tracks, I walk through the 'industrial section' of town. Industrial, in Lynden means a couple of berry processing plants and the milk plant. Though well-past the dinner hour, things are hoppin'.  Hair-netted forklift drivers are scooping up pallets of fragrant berries and whisking them into the plant where more people with hairnets are unloading them.Trucks are coming and going-delivering milk and berries. I think that I live in the 'land of milk and honey!'  One of the large cinder block buildings has been tagged with graffiti. "Not here," I think. "Perhaps it's only wannabes. After all, its hard to be too tough in a little one-horse-town that rolls up the sidewalks Sunday and who's police department know almost every soul." Still... I decide to be a bit more cautious about where I walk alone at dusk.

Back toward town I ramble, down past the Senior Center. Adelia's car is there. She's learning to play bridge. Adelia is a good friend. She only weighs 100 pounds, so tiny is she, but her heart is as big as all outdoors. She's a first rate sign language interpreter for deaf children...and she's a first rate friend. We're going out for lunch this week and I think maybe I'll go in and say hello and firm up our lunch date; but decide against it. Adelia's only 60, but many of her Senior Center friends are pretty old. I daren't interrupt the bridge game and cause a stir among the old folks!

Just down the way, the 3rd Christian Reformed Church has a garden I want to see; out by their parking lot.  Zucchini, corn, potatoes, leeks, greens of every kind and beans are growing in profusion. The sign says 5 Loaves Farm...after the Bible story of Jesus feeding the multitude with only 5 loaves and 2 fishes.
How very wonderful! I decide to come back another day with my camera and a notepad.

Down the alley a block or so an older man is working on a beat-up car. He looks pretty rough himself-unshaven and too thin. As I pass he stops working to say a polite, "hello." I wonder if 5 Loaves Farm might give him some fresh vegetables...I hope so.

Summer in the Northwest means longer days. It's 69 degrees and close to eight o'clock but still light outside. The sky's a moody greyish-blue and the clouds are tinged with mauve. I'm so intently studying the color of those clouds that I trip on a crack in the sidewalk. I catch myself and look about to see if anybody saw and might be laughing; but no one's watching. I marvel at my own egocentricity...always thinking someone's watching when usually nobody cares. The guy across the street is too busy weeding his geraniums to even look up. He's smarter than me, I think. I usually go out at noon and sweat in the mid-day sun. He waits for the evening shade. Then I notice the Comcast van sitting in the driveway. I've been mad at Comcast for awhile. My computer's running slower since they switched to X-finity. Just thinking about it makes me almost dislike that guy until I think about the fact that he's home working in the yard at 8 o'clock after working all day long and putting up with cranky customers like me who act as though it's his fault that their computers don't load pictures like they used to.

I've reached North Park Street, just a few blocks from home. North Park, not so long ago, was a horse pasture. The pasture was neatly subdivided, sold and built into a neighborhood of fancy homes with stone facades where neatly trimmed emerald greens partition off one postage-stamp yard from another. I myself preferred the quack grass with barbed-wire fences and Welsh ponies. Quite a few of the new homes are for sale; an indication that our little corner of the country has not escaped the recession unscathed. So even though the driveways of these lovely homes are line with Beemers and SUV's, I'm not so sure but what behind those double mahogany doors with beveled-glass windows; there isn't someone sitting in their HGTV designer kitchen with head in hands, wondering how to pay for it all. We know many folks who gambled that the 'bubble' would never burst and lost their businesses, homes and cars. It's been sad to see; but here's hoping that Americans will be the wiser because of it.

Step 2030 finds me in front of my house. Koda is barking wildly at the front window. She doesn't recognize me; she thinks I'm a hotten-tot like that mongrel that passes by twice a day and gets her dander up. I stand on the sidewalk and throw up my hands...
"Really! Your gonna bark at ME?" 
"Ruh-ro!" she says with a sheepish look on her face as she greets me at the door. Kelly's watching Feherity on the golf channel and and Posie cat's snoozing on the sofa. I fall into the recliner, give Koda a pat and check my pedometer... 2064 steps.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Walking in the Woods on a Summer's Day

     Tuesday was warm and sunny...a perfect day in Lynden. Koda loves sunny days, but they make her very tired. So she went to Mama and asked a favor.
     "Can we go to the roods today?" she asked.
     "A walk in the woods would be nice and cool," replied Mama. "We'll take some water for you and some iced tea for me. You get your leash and I'll get my camera. We'll want to take some good pictures for our blogger friends to look at."
     "Ro-kay!" Koda replied, happily wagging her tail.
     When they got to Berthusen Park, Koda's nose was pressed up against the car window and she was barking with delight.
     "Ret's ro!" she yipped.

     So they set out on a trail beneath the old growth evergreens of Berthusen Park.
     "Koda," said mama, "This park was homesteaded by Hans and Lida Berthusen in 1883. That means that there might be trees here that are nearly 130 years old."
     "Dog- years or people years?" Koda asked.
     "That's people years, Koda. I guess they'd be about 700 dog-years old."
     "Roh, row!" exclaimed the pup.

     The air was cool in the woods. It smelled like cedar and ferns and other green things. The trail they followed was dappled with rays of sun that shone through the forest canopy.


     Koda, who'd been sniffing the trail intently suddenly started barking wildly. She raced toward a cedar tree pulling Mama along behind her. 
     "Rook, Rook," she wailed as she leapt toward the tree trunk. She tried her best to climb that old tree; but try as she might, she just kept sliding to the ground. Mama shielded her eyes as she gazed way up into the branches of the trees. There was a rustling on one of the limbs as a squirrel leapt from one branch to the next.
     "Oh yes Koda, I see the squirrel. No wonder you were so excited. But next time, please don't drag me through the ferns!"
     "Rorry Mama," Koda replied with chagrin. She didn't mean to disobey Mama; but sometimes she just got all aflutter when she saw another creature.
     "It's O.K. girlie-girl. Just wait a minute while I take a picture..."
     Mama has many special names for Koda; but girlie-girl is her favorite. It's what Grandpa Youngedyke used to call Mama's mother, Ruby. So when Koda hears Mama say 'girlie-girl', she knows that Mama isn't mad.


     "O.K., we got that picture, now let's get going my friend, we've got lots more to see. Hans and Lida left 236 acres to the city of Lynden back in 1944...and we've only gone a few yards!"


     Ever deeper they ventured into the woods. It was very still. The only sound was a robin calling "cheer up, cheer up, cheer up". 

     
 Some parts of the trail were very dark. It felt to Mama at the same time peaceful and eerie. Primeval. Once she thought she heard a rustling in the bushes behind them. She turned but saw nothing.There'd been talk from time to time of cougars prowling around these parts, so she picked up a stick, just in case. She knew though, that Koda would protect her from any creature, even if it cost her life. She looked down at the dear dog and silently prayed, "Lord, please never let it come to that."


      She shook off her gloomy thoughts and set about to look for interesting plants.
      "Look at the buttercups Koda. Aren't they much prettier here than in my garden?"
      Koda didn't answer. She was busy trying to catch a fly. Besides, she wasn't much interested in buttercups.



     Ferns were abundant in the woods.


     Delicate flowers bloomed from the forest floor.


     After walking for an hour or more, the trail led Koda and Mama back to the part of the park for picnics and children. They found a nice picnic bench for Mama to sit on while she poured a bowl of cold water for Koda and opened herself a bottle of iced tea.

     Koda lapped her water while Mama sipped her tea. Then they rested in the shade for a little while. Neither spoke. Good friends don't need to talk all that much to enjoy one another's company.
     When it was finally time to leave Koda said "Ranks Mama, for the walk and the water."
     "You're welcome girlie-girl," Mama replied.

***

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Where's Deb


Where's Debbie? She should be out watching her garden growing on this lovely July day!




Hmmm, that's wierd...she's not helping Kelly prep the flowerbeds

for that load of bark. It was delivered last Thursday. That's not like her to let a gardening project sit for 3 days...especially on a sunny day.



There's a pile of books that would rival Mt. Fugi on her bedroom dresser. She must be planning to do some heavy reading. Shhh, if you peek at the titles you might get some insight into what that girl is all about! 'So Long Insecurities'...wow she must have issues...or maybe she's just trying to solve her 'girlfriends' problems...yeah, that's the ticket!


Here's a clue. A TV tray with an empty soup bowl, ice water with a straw, tissues, a cell phone and some scissors. Maybe she caught a cold.


Oh my goodness...I see some flip flops poking out from that snarl of tangled yarn on the recliner! We're getting closer....




Yup, that's her behind the tissue. She looks, well, how do you say it nicely...kinda puffy. And what's with the bandage on her hand?


Yes friends, this is Debbie, unplugged. Figuratively and literally. After 2 years of cowardly denial  careful deliberation, I finally took my nose doc's advice and had sinus surgery. He promised me that this is the end of nose drops, mucinex, cough drops, chewing gum to keep post nasal areas moving, carrying tissue in my purse, my car, my classroom, my bed, my bathroom, my suitcase, my pockets, cuffs, bra, and anywhere else I can stash it.
Had the surgery yesterday and according to my doc, it went perfectly. So for now I have  get to rest. No lifting, no bending. I'm just sittin' here with my yarn and some granny squares I started last summer, got bored of, and put away. (Note to self...write better directions when you postpone a project for another time. These instructions look like chicken scratch! Am I supposed to be chaining 3 here...or there?) I've made 4 attempts, but I think I've got it the next time.
Soup d'jour is Lipton Chicken Noodle, thanks to my master chef and nurse...Kelly. I didn't get to eat anything for 18 hours, and I've gotta say, Lipton soup never tasted so good; Four stars.
The doors are open and a soft summer breeze is moving throught the room. I'm listening to birds singing, Kelly's shovel scraping against the cement, and his transistor radio is playing 'Don't Go Breakin My Heart' - remember Elton John and Kiki D? It's happy and upbeat, which is just what I wanna hear today.
Koda's been running by the window chasing flies, barking at anyone who'll listen, and sipping ice water from her bowl. She's fussy about her water; prefers ice on sunny days...I can respect that. I do too!
I'll spare you the details of the surgery; but if you ever happen to have to have it, drop me a note and I'll fill you in on what to expect. There were a few surprises that nobody told me about. I'll leave it at that. But all in all, I'm doing just fine. Kelly is best caretaker in the world, I've got lots to keep me quietly occupied, and my doggy's sympathetic licks on my hands. I've got your fabulous blogs to entertain me. Most importantly, I have the Lord, who leadeth me beside the still waters. So it's good.
I'm told I'll be in pretty good shape by Tuesday, and fabulous shape in a few weeks.
I' gotta go. Gotta get back to those Granny Squares. Now does it say chain 3 then dc 2, or dc 2 then chain 3...?




Friday, April 8, 2011

Dilly-Dallying in the Daffodils

 Koda and I headed south today...we were bound for the tulip-less Tulip Festival. (They'll be here later this month.) We ate our treats; well actually she had treats; I had a  pb&j sandwich; and sang along to country music on the radio. Isn't that Taylor Swift song called 'Mean' catchy? I should listen to country lyrics more often! We visited the towns of Bow and LaConner,  drove out to Samish Island, and took to the beach at Padilla  Bay. (Those pictures and stories are for another day.)  
Used the 'fresco' feature on Photobucket to make this picture.

and the 'cross processing feature on this one.

This last photo is just me and my camera.

It was as fine a day as I could ask for!


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