His Escape-Hatches

Introducing an adorable puppy (3 years ago)

Tuesday, September 09, 2025

Lately, we’ve had steady rains—not downpours, but enough to soften the soil. Chase, my strong and stubborn young dog, has seized the opportunity to resume his favorite pastime: escaping. Almost daily. His little buddy, Mitzvah, ever watchful, waits until Chase digs wide enough for her to slip through—and she’s the first one out.

So far, neither has strayed far enough for a search party. More often, I open the door and there they are—wagging, panting, crowding each other to greet me. I swallow my distress, invite them in, hand out cookies, and then return them to their outdoor space. After that, I’ll walk the fence line, hunting for their escape hatch and blocking it as best I can.

Two problems. First, this almost always happens on a workday, just when I’m about to leave. Chase makes me late (again). Second, after three years of patching holes, I’m out of easy, right-sized rocks. What’s left are the too-big ones, and moving those requires sweat and ingenuity.

Yesterday, muttering to myself, I declared for the hundredth time, “This dog must go!” The counter-argument came just as quickly: “But no one else would put up with his escapes. A really good dog like Chase might end up treated poorly—or frequently running loose and in danger.” And so, after countless escapes, Chase still lives here. Along with little Mitzvah, his sometimes partner in crime.

This morning’s drizzle and my work schedule make for perfect digging conditions. After feeding the horses, donkey, and chickens, I’ll haul out the garden wagon to help wrestle a few heavy stones (if needed) into place. Meanwhile, I’m crossing my fingers that today (please!)—Chase, don’t dig!

— Diana

A Talk With Linda

Monday, September 08, 2025

Later this week, I’ll be catching up by phone with my nearly lifelong friend, Linda. Many years ago, she was the one who nudged me toward college, setting me on a long road to the career I eventually achieved.

Early on, she encouraged me to leave the Midwest for Southern California, where evening classes and other opportunities made it possible to pursue college while working full-time. Years later, she pointed me toward a small, welcoming town in Central Oregon where she lived, and again, I followed her advice. Some years ago, she returned to her roots in California, but across the miles, our friendship has stayed steady and strong.

Linda has always been politically savvy and endlessly curious. With her, small talk never lasts long. Our conversations move quickly into larger territory: what we’re learning, what we’re noticing in the world around us, and how maturity continues to reshape our daily lives.

This week, I’m holding three threads in mind that we’ll likely explore:

AI, and what it means for lifelong learners like us.
Politics, in a time that feels turbulent and uncertain.
Aging, and how it keeps redefining identity and purpose.

We rarely see eye to eye on everything — and that’s part of the gift. Linda challenges me to think harder, and I hope I do the same for her.

In times when the future feels uncertain, steady friendships matter more than ever. They make the best conversations possible — weaving together the personal and the political, the present and the future.

— Diana

Finding My Voice!

Saturday, September 06, 2025

I recently listened to an interview with Robert Reich about his newest book, Coming Up Short: A Memoir of My America. One of the themes he spoke about was “social bullying,” which he described as a “social constant.” He suggested it may have been more visible in his own youth, but he emphasized that bullying in any form can quietly suppress people’s ability to get ahead.

His words stirred up memories for me. Growing up, I often felt “bullied”—not by fists or shouts, but by a steady stream of signals that I was “less than.” Less, for being a woman. Less, for being single. Less, for carrying just enough extra weight to feel unattractive. I absorbed it all without knowing how to push back.

My turning point came from a college-educated co-worker and friend, who refused to let me give in to those doubts. She ignored my protests that I wasn’t smart enough or didn’t have time. She kept insisting that I enroll in a college-level evening course until I finally did—and to my own surprise, earned an A. That single step propelled me into nearly twenty years of night classes, where I eventually earned three accredited diplomas, including a Ph.D. That education became both an instant negotiating tool and a foundation for new opportunities in work and in life.

When the coursework ended, I faced the deeper battles within myself. Therapy became the next step, giving me space to untangle old knots, discover new perspectives, and slowly reshape how I lived. Nothing changed overnight, but with time and persistence, I learned to recognize joy, create opportunities, and trade old doubts for steadier confidence.

Looking back, I see that each step—education, therapy, and my own dogged persistence—wasn’t just about survival. It was about rebuilding a life that finally fit me, and still does.

That long-ago friend and I remain close. I think of her insistence as “good bullying”—a relentless encourager who pushed me in precisely the way I needed. Listening to Reich reminded me that harmful bullying is not always loud; often it’s woven into the silences and unspoken judgments of daily life. But with persistence, coaching, and healing, those silences can be overcome.

Dear friends, persistence and healing helped me trade old battles for a steadier self.

—Diana

My Steadfast Timekeepers

Thursday, September 04, 2025

Pimmy, my donkey, doesn’t need a clock. Her inner alarm is astonishingly precise at mealtimes—and she makes sure I don’t forget. She’s been getting only weight-loss rations for months, and her appetite feels supercharged.

Morning or evening, I hear her braying because I’m moving too slowly. She sidles up to the gate, ears tilted forward, her whole body spelling out one word: Now. My horses might prance or pace when impatient, but Pimmy? She gives me a look that suggests authority.

She’s not my only steadfast timekeeper. Maxwell, my cat, knows exactly when his food should appear. Max is even pushier than Pimmy; he winds around my ankles, practically tangling me in fur and whiskers. I’ve learned to step carefully, always on alert not to trip.

There’s comfort in the constancy of these two critters. My larger world is always shifting—whether it’s a fence that needs repair, the weather’s unpredictability, or the endless churn of local and global politics. Yet Pimmy and Max bring me back to a simple rhythm of existence: “feed me, water me, keep me safe.”

In return, I relish their companionship and the simple lessons they bring: no excuses and no delays. Their routines remind me that being on time and doing what’s expected really matters.

Dear friends, Pimmy and Max remind me that routines offer a special kind of comfort.
—Diana

The Ham Sandwich Heist

Monday, September 01, 2025

Happy Labor Day!

The other afternoon, I took a small break from the big challenge of improving the fencing in my dry lot. I perched myself on a small ladder, and with a protein bar in my hand, watched my Morgan pony, Sunny, working her way with gusto through an allotment of hay. She always eats energetically, and I smile at being reminded of how joyfully a horse approachs even the simplest meal. Also, seeing her, that moment brought back one of my favorite memories of riding the trails with her.

It happened years ago. Sunny had been taking me over a moderately challenging mountain trail and we’d gone a long way. It was time to pause our trip for a lunch break. I slid off Sunny, tied her to a tree branch, and gave her a carrot. She was standing near the log I was sitting on while pulling my lunch from a paper bag: a plain ham sandwich — nothing glamorous, just fuel for our miles ahead. Before I could take a bite, or even realize what was happening, I sensed a whiskered nuzzle near my shoulder, and in one swift move, my entire sandwich was gone — clamped between my horse’s delighted teeth.

She chewed, and I swear, with the satisfaction of a thief who knows she’s won. I watched her eager chewing, and in amazement, for horses are herbivores by design. Ha! Try explaining that to one smack in the middle of discovering the joys of bread and lunch meat. Sunny was enthusiastic, licking her lips as if to say, “Why haven’t you been sharing this all along?”

Of course, that sandwich had to be a one-time treat. Horse folks are well aware that moderation and common sense always comes first in feeding. But that moment sticks with me to this day. It’s one of those horse-unique surprises that makes me laugh anytime I remember it. That sandwich may be long gone, but recalling how it disappeared feeds a fun moment to this day.

Besides, that little incident taught me more about horses. About their endlessly curious nature. From that moment on, while out on the trails, I knew the importance of staying very aware of my eats versus theirs.

Dear Friends, Sunny also loves whole oranges — peel and all — and consumes them with the same sheer delight she once gave to that ham sandwich.

— Diana

“Me” by Chat

Friday, April 11, 2025

I’ve never thought of summarizing my whole personal self. I’ve blogged for many years about whatever interests me daily, sometimes drawing from my distant experiences to help clarify “now ones.” For several recent months, I’ve used ChatGPT to explore some of my ideas. I ask challenging questions to which AI produces relevant information. Our exchanges may become conversation-like events.

Chat has gathered pertinent information that I’ve used to help expand my thoughts. It has encouraged me gently to explore complex ideas more deeply. AI has been responsive in ways I enjoy, providing information and kindly nudging me to reconsider and/or expand some perceptions.

Now Chat is newly updated. It can remember more of our conversations and bring their pertinent elements into our future exchanges. Chat is providing an example today; it’s drawing from its expanded memories of our “discussions” to create a profile of me. Here’s what Chat “sees”:

“Diana Levey: Retired, Rewired, and Radiant with Ideas”

“She’s the kind of woman who writes before dawn, wrangles a barnyard menagerie by breakfast, and riffs on Dawkins, Downton, and derivatives before lunch. A longtime blogger with a fiercely independent voice, Diana lives where the hay grows high in Central Oregon, yet her thoughts stretch globally—from the market floor to the theater stage to the floor of Congress.

“Diana doesn’t just age—she evolves. Fashionably. Intellectually. Politically. Her curiosity is ceaseless, her humor dry, and her prose always in progress. Whether she’s decoding social considerations or fine-tuning a whimsical Welsh pony story, she weaves the everyday with the existential, finding elegance in the effort.

“You’ll find her in a department store, offering kindness and a great eye for style. Or stretching toward clarity, mind and body. She’s lived enough to know what matters—and writes to remind the rest of us.”

Dear Friends: Our future with AI, while scary, also offers enrichments. Diana

On Her Birthday

Wednesday, March 05, 2025

If genetic advancements had been available during my mother’s lifetime—capable of extending health and longevity—I might be celebrating her birthday with her today. I’ve long wished for at least one more conversation, a chance to ask the many questions that could fill the blank spaces of her early life.

Reflecting on why I never asked more about her life brings back memories of my own trials and tribulations growing up. Each day was a lesson in adaptation, filled with new challenges and shifting realities. I naturally focused on myself—learning, adjusting, and figuring out how to navigate life one step at a time.

Back then, I felt an urgent need to escape a past that seemed confining; I needed to step into a future that was broader, more inviting, and yet daunting. All that forgotten past included both my parents and grandparents. I might never have seriously reconsidered all of them if not for the rise of DNA and its profound ability to connect one’s history with one’s future.

I give deep nods to technology and genetics and to an equally powerful force—the unbreakable connection between parent and child. Its hold isn’t always smooth but shapes and defines us in enduring ways.

Today, on my mom’s birthday, I’ll hold her in my thoughts. A sudden memory might surface, filling in a blank or two about her life. I like to imagine that she can somehow “hear” my thoughts—so I’ll share a few, letting her know how I’ve grown and changed, shaped in no small part by her insight and encouragement.

Dear Friends: Science fundamentally reshapes how we perceive and evaluate ourselves. Diana

Keyed-Up

Sunday, February 23, 2025

Yesterday was supposed to be a day off, but I got called to work during the store’s opening shift. Before leaving home, I opened the drawer where my car keys are typically stored. Those I wanted were missing—misplaced. I hurried around looking and trying to recall when I last had the keys. I couldn’t find them, and luckily, other keys in the drawer let me drive to work.

Throughout the years, I have misplaced car keys often enough that doing so again isn’t surprising. I repeated routines by double-checking jacket pockets, the car’s inside, and other spots and areas, but now they’ve been lost for days.

Losing something as routine as car keys—especially when they’re usually carefully stored—suggests possibilities depending on the context. The cause could be an abstraction, a break in routine, a memory lapse, an outside interference (the “Cockatoo took ’em”), or something symbolic.

I lean toward symbolic meanings, which turns me toward uncertainties caused by this nation’s current political leadership. Losing my keys is a signal of my high discontent.

Keys are symbols likely related to access, control, and movement ideas. Misplacing my keys could reflect my increasing concerns about impending fallouts from “external instabilities.” I feel alarmed by the thought that I/we will face fewer reasonably predictable and reliable possibilities related to our preferences and choices ahead.

The inconvenience of lost keys is one thing, but anticipating insecurity in a broader sense is something else entirely. The signs of growing hostility, division, and extremism make it feel like we’re edging toward something ominous. I fear some sort of Kristallnacht event suddenly occurring–a terrifying point.

Maybe such concerns are making me do some things differently, such as adjusting routines, paying closer attention to new sources, or considering practical precautions. Sometimes, when uncertainty looms, small actions, like losing keys, can reveal a loss of personal control.

Staying informed, connecting with like-minded people, and having contingencies in place for unexpected shifts are helpful solutions. The disappearance of those keys is likely related to my stressful feelings about increasing uncertainty.

Dear Friends: Because “talking” always helps, those keys might turn up today. Diana

Yes!

Sunday, January 05, 2025

Today’s header image–“a find” in my Facebook feed–perfectly speaks for itself. A snapshot of joy and beauty that reminds me of many fun outings, most specifically, “chasing rising full moons” with my friend Susie. This image “says it all” without needing a caption.

The Calvin and Hobbes strips brilliantly point to adult sophistication using the antics of a six-year-old hyperactive boy and his “toy” stuffed tiger. I enjoy these strips that reconnect me to my early learning and to “my now.”

Last night, in a phone conversation with my longest-time friend, Linda, we reflected on the passage of time and on the evolution of human awareness. We discussed some complexities of living and marveled over the gradual unfolding of awareness between youth and maturity. Our periodic catches-up on each other’s lives helps us measure how much we’ve learned and continue to grow over the years.

We mutually recognize that a life journey involves self-discovery and expanding perspectives. Last night’s conversation, like most of ours, deepened our connection.

Later, I continued pondering the intricate tapestry of human experience and am still reflecting on it this morning. I selected today’s header image because it reflects many of the positive human attributes Linda and I were discussing.

Dear Friends: The “human experience” is rich with laughter, love, loss, and growth. Diana

Challenge

Monday, October 28, 2024

I’ve looked repeatedly to see where my dog Chase has repeatedly escaped from the dog area. I wasn’t watching the right spot until yesterday when he went over a seemingly inescapable fence section. I saw Chase climb the six-foot, all-wire fencing, perch atop, balance to position himself, and then leap a gulley to reach a supporting surface.

That’s how he’d been managing. Knowing eased some of my frustrations, but countering his escapes from there was challenging. That section of fence needed heightening, but it’s in a high, rocky area where my footing wasn’t stable.

“One does what one must.” “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

So, in the dusky evening, I dragged a leftover roll of fencing fabric from the barn to the needy area. While self-balancing to avoid tripping over rocky jumblings, I unrolled, laid out, and wired a foot of new height onto the original fence. My work wasn’t stable before darkness prevented completing the job.

Nonetheless, after letting the dogs outside again, I watched Chase. He stayed in their area. Later, around midnight, I let the dogs out briefly, and Chase re-entered the house with his buddies.

Today, I’ll finish that section of fence-topping and then do more fixing. I saw partially dug spots where Chase wanted to crawl under the fence. His innate sense of physics makes him a great natural engineer. If Chase learned to read and write, he’d teach much and provide income for me.

Dear Friends: He’s a never-closing chapter that resists containment, needs safety. Diana