Wednesday, February 26, 2020

I was wide awake around midnight and let the dogs out briefly before deciding to sit awhile and read or knit. A quick glance at my cellphone showed thoughts of Zoe Pearl, in her article for The New Yorker, where she’s into “virtual imagery that would make [her] run faster on the elliptical”.

She’s into fantasies intended to motivate ongoing endurance. Several of them made me laugh out loud. There’s one that’s my favorite: “If I run a mile in less than ten minutes, my therapist appears and tells me that I’m her favorite patient and she wishes I were her daughter.”

That fantasy is a very deep wish of folks in therapy and finding the process good and useful. The same deep wish also is a lingering left-over for those who, in the past and over time, have discussed deeply-held feelings with talented therapists. I was fortunate to have spent years talking with a therapist who helped me reshape some mental kinks.

Zoe Pearl’s fantasy, of being her therapist’s favorite patient and wishing Zoe were her daughter, seems familiar to me as an old shoe. That’s a want that’s never fallen to the past or been discarded. It’s deep and I don’t try reaching for it, but can remember and understand the author. I laughed and appreciated.

The whole essay is clever and entertaining. Pearl comes up with assorted fantasies–mental motivations–that keep her “going and doing more” on the boring elliptical. Here’s a link to her ideas: https://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/virtual-imagery-that-would-actually-make-me-run-faster-on-the-elliptical

Dear Friends: I love the courageous and talented, able to say “how it is, who they are”. Diana

Tuesday, February 25, 2020

I am living with a now-unpleasant septic tank site and constant feelings of yukiness. Unhappily, I’ve stared at a septic tank overflowed and surrounded by gunk. I’ve peered deeply into a just-pumped chasm and seen water dripping in from the house-side, from nowhere easily identifiable. My guide, the pump guy, advised me to change toilet flappers, and also, because of a possible clog in the system, seek help from an expert with drain field experience.

So, without having ever dreamed of this, I went shopping for toilet flappers. Those already in the toilet tanks looked okay, seemed to perform correctly, but the septic-pump guy insisted that, even if a flapper looks good, it could be leaking, helping to overfill the septic. So, there I went, not only to shop for flappers–but to install them, and easily (thanks again, YouTube!). What’s worst is finding someone who’s available before the chasm fills again to check for a possible clog.

There’s also a concern about this septic’s location. For instance, the home’s previous owners long ago dug a space for it atop a steep hill. They reinforced tank and hillside by stacking lava rocks high and up against the tank wall. The hilltop location and rocky support don’t seem up to code, but upon my purchasing this home, the combo passed inspection without a mention of code violation.

It’s interesting to consider the amount of much water one might use and how. These days, I’m cautious about flushing a toilet, avoid using clothes-washing and dish-washing machines, and can’t brush away a tendency to “remember the septic!” while brushing my teeth.

Today, hopefully, the tank will remain unfilled while I’m away at my part-time job. Horrors, if those new flappers haven’t stopped the constant leaking that was coming from the septic’s house-side.

Dear Friends: Oh, for those good old, unconcerning days of living with a city sewer system! Diana

Monday, February 24, 2020

I enjoy loading my four dogs and taking them to run freely, especially in large areas with water holes. It’s barely possible to capture all the dogs at once as I managed in the above photo, although a couple submerged in water are nearly out of sight. As I walk along, they’re always in my vicinity. They’re active, curious, but rarely all together long enough for my camera to focus, finger to press the shutter.

With my big camera handy, it’s capable of grabbing terrific action shots. The best can reveal much about an animal. A good action shot helps to clarify an animal’s physical build, which determines how it moves.

As an example, here’s Ranger, in a full-out double gallop with both rear legs reaching under his body. Those rear feet touching the ground ahead of his front legs will maintain or increase speed. In this photo, his tail’s position clues us that he’s in the process of changing direction.

Now, here’s little Louie. He’s a low profile at only twenty-five pounds, and doing a stretching-out mode of running. Louie’s short legs don’t lend themselves to double-runs, unless he’s motivated, and then they’re very capable.

The pack’s female is Osix. Her interesting rear leg action supports double-running. Osix isn’t one that I photograph to capture in action. She’s so doggone cute that it’s inviting to focus on coloring and prettiness. She blends so well in many different backgrounds.

When the subject is speed, this pack’s piece de resistance is Miles–a “blue” Border Collie (with the dilute gene). He’s a great mover–lithe, fast, smooth, always in action. In one instant he’s “right there”, and in another has evaporated. This is a fun shot, and an example of how busy he can keep my eye, camera, and shutter finger.

Now, we’re at the beginning of training these four to walk together on a lead with me, and through the neighborhood. There’s no reason that I should consider it enough to walk my horses and goats. These dogs need going, too, and so, it’ll happen.

Dear Friends: I’ve long wanted to get them walking together on a leash, and it’s time. Diana

Sunday, February 23, 2020

After days of almost constant busyness, yesterday I slipped toward motionless. After taking the horses across the road to John’s pasture, and en route home, I discovered that my septic tank has sprung a leak. Judging from a standing puddle, it’s a sizeable hole. I found the problem site by following (kind description) a scent.

Well, fixing the septic won’t be easy or inexpensive, and the possibilities sapped most of my energy. Shortly later, and more disheartening, the voting tabulations came in from Las Vegas. It seems to me that Bernie’s “change all” enthusiasms are overly optimistic. I needed comfort from smells and politics, so clicked off the tube. I picked up rags and a can of dust-off, and roamed and cleaned throughout the afternoon.

What’s good is knowing that a stretch of time may ease bruising. This morning, my challenges feel less bombastic. I’ll face whatever’s ahead to repair my damaged septic.

Dear Friends: Owning a home is a mixed-bag of rewards and challenges. Diana

Saturday, February 22, 2020

My neighbor, Frank, said that he creates smoothies for his dogs, by combining banana, non-fat yogurt, and peanut butter. After blending everything, he pours the smoothie into small cups, tops them with dog-treats, and freezes the cups. Frank says his dogs tear into their cups, always loving every lick and chew.

I borrowed his idea, and after collecting the ingredients, hurried home and dumped all into a blender. I found carry-out paper cups and used scissors to reduce them for individual portions. The header photo shows my outcomes. They were rock-hard frozen, would my dogs recognize them as treats?

The dogs didn’t hesitate and immediately figured out how to get their noses into the cups. They went nuts, and later, carried into the house torn cup papers to lick. So cool, and today, I’ll create more pup-smoothies.

In late morning, I led the horses down the road to a neighbor’s pasture. On my way home and drawn to the rocky steep hill belonging to another neighbor, I climbed piles of lava rock. I wanted to reach the highest spot and here’s the challenge.

The worthwhile payoff was a view of my horses grazing (photo cropped to bring closer the horses.)

The day only had begun. Next, I allowed my goats to join me for an outing. For the first time, they were loose. I wondered if they’d follow me around on the property. In this photo and just out of the gate, they’re nibbling fallen juniper needles.

Gradually, I moved toward a higher spot where there grew lots of grass. Although not at all in a hurry, they continued drifting my way, always exploring.

Finally, after the goats were re-penned, and the horses collected, brought home and fed, I felt worn out and ready early for bed. Of course I awakened early, and so, began writing in a journal. By putting thoughts into a new pretty, hard-bound book, I’ll be forced to handwrite, an almost-lost skill after years of non-use. It’s become that writing by hand feels awkward, looks like scribble, and hopefully, practicing will improve action and readability.

Dear Friends: A fine day, of varied activities, yielded insights and offered fun. Diana

Friday, February 21, 2020

I drove across town in heavy traffic yesterday evening to attend a beginning knitting class. Found myself sitting with two other learners. They were confidently knitting with skills way ahead of my own pitiful status. Our instructor turned out to be a young woman who’s fun and can knit up a storm. Her needles click rapidly and her fingers guide yarn that flies.

She sat beside me, “Show me how you knit.” I poked my needle into the yarn and started to make a wrap. She shook her head, “That’s wrong,” and reached for my materials. “Here, I’ll show you how.” I watched and wondered if she might be showing me a wrong way.

“Are you sure?” I had to be resistant, for I’d spent hours watching YouTube for a handle on how to wrap a knit stitch.

“Positive!” She continued knitting to show me, and proved her point by turning the knitted stitches to both sides, revealing accurate knits. That revealed my occasional dyslexia, for I’d reversed what YouTube demonstrated.

My heart sank, “I’ve been working on a neck-warmer project, have completed fourteen rows of knit and purl stitches. I’ve been making those stitches wrong!”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, we all make mistakes. Bring the project in, we’ll fix everything.” I sighed in relief, and she said, “Sometimes you’ll notice an incorrectible mistake, or a series of them, and will want to avoid unraveling your work. Just keep on. Decide that yours are ‘creative stitches’, and call the work an original pattern.'”

I’m going to enjoy this class. Next week, we’ll tackle problems with my neck-warmer.

At that same time in the shop, a separate group consisted of fifteen or twenty experienced knitters. They sat in a circle chatting quietly, needles flying. Those knitters were comfortable, busy, engaged, and productive. They probably were a knitting club. Someday, maybe I’ll be skilled and confident enough to join the group.

I left the class with firm goals: learn the basics, carve out time to practice regularly, and get up-to-speed enough to needle with those more advanced.

Dear Friends: Already I’m creating: new stitches! In an original, unique pattern! Diana

Thursday, February 20, 2020

Yesterday, while leading the horses, I suddenly felt a resistance against the shortest lead rope. Turning, there was Pimmy, stopped, eyeing something suspicious. I looked up in time to see several deer fleeing ahead of our approach. Meanwhile, unlike Pimmy, both horses seemed only slightly interested in those deer. I tugged on Pimmy’s lead rope, until finally, she started moving in unhappy jerk-steps.

Sometimes that’s what it’s like to walk with my two horses and the donkey. The horses move along, usually nicely, and mostly, so does Pimmy–unless she decides to balk. Then for me, the game becomes one of, “let’s keep going” to the horses, and tugs to keep Pimmy moving. Frustrating enough that I fantasize turning loose the donkey and letting her follow us.

No dice, because she follows weirdly. Maybe she’ll walk 20 or 30 feet behind, or mosey over to the other side of the road–pausing to graze, or she’ll walk ahead in the street’s middle, leading us by 20 or 30 feet. No worries that she’ll not stay near the horses, but street-weavings are dangerous. I’m too burdened with the horses to control or easily catch loose-Pimmy. Knowing where we’re headed, she prefers traveling on her own.

I created that independent little monster during years of horseback riding. Pimmy always followed loosely on trails, wouldn’t leave her horses for anything, but sometimes fell behind to graze on something delicious. I’d holler for her and pause to wait–often rewarding, for not much is cuter than seeing a donkey cantering to catch up. Its hooves, set differently from a horse’s, make its hurries a little stiffer but capable.

Pimmy is a hoot, and now, she’s training me, to lead two ways simultaneously. I must move along the horses while pulling on an oft-reluctant follower. This process is wearing, has me muttering in irritation through our distance. But payoffs are perfect, we arrive safely at destinations.

Dear Friends: The biggest and best payoffs: these animals keeping me strong and afoot. Diana

Wednesday, February 19, 2020

On a gloomy morning, this casual capture provided a photo that I enjoy. The snap both recreates memories of that real-time sighting, not intended to become much of anything. This picture represents one of photography’s most lovely elements, it’s the surprise of falling “in like” with an intended throw-away.

It’s been an inspirational image, something to do with how its lines interact–with one another and earth below, foliage and sky above. In fact, it offers so much that I’ve tried to draw it. I’ve been only partially successful, seem able to capture the idea. But as my friend, critic, and mentor, Janet, points out, some of my trees are sitting atop the fence and forcing me back to the drawing board.

Posting my drawing requires incredible chutzpah, most likely driven by thrills on seeing my image, that it at least resembles the original. After many years of not touching an artist’s tool, I’ve begun to revisit the activity of creating drawings. Who knows why all of a sudden? Perhaps it’s because some of Janet’s admirable artistic intelligence and skills have helped to reinvigorate my imagination.

At the very least, during many sleepless midnight hours, an alert mind (and a good photo) can force the eye to focus on all it should be able to see. This can create a vision that inspires the hand to start moving.

Dear Friends: Creating art costs little (at least in the beginning), and it’s a heady pastime. Diana

Tuesday, February 18, 2020

It’s nearly impossible to get a decent photo of Miles. Yesterday though, as I walked with the dogs he suddenly emerged from a nearby “brush cave” and slowed by the weeds. Of course, it’s a fuzzy image, but no kidding, I always must look for Miles. He’s fast, most often appears as a “sweeping glimpse”. Nonetheless, this fellow never loses track of his pack. After our outing trek has shifted toward the parking area, he totally disappears from sight, having dashed ahead, to the Jeep (left open for him), and is waiting in the passenger seat.

Often, there’s Osix, waiting, too. As we trek, she stays close to me, but likes to join Miles as a “first in the Jeep” once we’re pointed in its direction.

Ranger and little Louie stay near me throughout a trek. Ranger is a worrier, running ahead and out of sight but often hurrying back to check on me. Louie usually is visible, just plain cute, or pausing to roll in something putrid.

Yesterday, that outing was one of several. There’s no explaining (aside from having consumed a big lunch) why I became so active. Early that day, the horses and I walked the quarter-mile to our neighbor’s pasture where they stayed. Next, I walked to several neighbors’ to tap on their doors and ask for permissions to cross their properties while walking my goats. With solid “go-aheads”, I leashed the two and took them for long stroll.

Now, the piece de resistance. After letting the dogs go running and wearing themselves out, I did something I’ve long considered but never tried. I used a couple of tandem leads to connect the four dogs and somehow got them down to the street for a walk. For awhile, we were a jumbled-mess. They had to learn to walk together, as I sought the strength to keep control. (Sorry, no photos!)

Last night, during a few sleepless minutes, I decided it’s time to go horseback riding. It’s been too long since the horses, donkey, and dogs–all together, joined me for a play-outing.

Dear Friends: Psychedelics might not have offered more fun than yesterday’s outings. Diana

Monday, February 17, 2020

I’m creating a monster, or putting it more gently, a couple little goats have begun demanding that I take them for walks. Always, upon my routine approaches to our goat ‘n chicken pen, their greetings are noisy, and especially, when they see me bringing little tubs with grains and breadcrumbs. Now though, having joined me several times to stroll through the neighborhood, upon my approach they’re more excited, with greetings escalated to ear-splitting.

I’m learning anew these little characters and love recognizing their intelligence and alertness. As a hat-tip to their step-up in status, each sports a brand-new collar and I.D. tag.

As I dashed into the pet store for collars and tags, I stopped short upon sighting a gorgeous red Doberman with recently-trimmed and taped ears. I reached out to the friendly puppy. Oh, how I love Dobermans, especially red ones!

My all-time, most-loved canine companion, Bally, was a red Doberman. For many years, we were a team, she always beside me. I joined the local dog club, learned to show her in conformation classes, and for a couple of years we traveled the circuit. Our best win was a second-place, from a nationally-known judge who was a Doberman expert. I was in a group that joined him for dinner, and he told me that he loved Bally, but that we were out-shown by a very experienced handler. His reassurance about Bally’s conformation, although pleasing, ended my interest in showing her competitively. Instead, we worked on obedience and she earned a C.D. (Companion Dog) title.

Anyway, as I was loving that red pup, her owner muttered something. When I looked up–Surprise!–it’s my friend, Buzz! This puppy is his? “What are you doing with a Doberman puppy?”

“It’s our breed, she’s our forth Doberman.”

Well, who knew!

Buzz and I met as members of ham radio groups and stayed in touch. He’s a technology expert, and periodically, we meet over coffee to catch up with each other. We discuss whatever’s new in our lives, and also, the nuts and bolts of ham- and/or internet-related technologies.

We’ve begun planning to meet again. Maybe he’ll bring his puppy, and I’ll find some photos of Bally. We’ll exchange experiences with the breed, and what we like or maybe don’t like (referring to judges, dog breeders, and fears associated to the breed).

How fun, all this!

Dear Friends: Old pictures bring Bally alive again, almost as if she’s here beside me. Diana