Prayer List

I was working on a blog about my weekend, but so many things have happened these last few days that I felt that I had to create this post instead.

Today I am starting my own prayer list. I've prayed for people (and myself) during tough times before. But in the last few days, it just seems that every phone call, or email, or text message has brought a new concern for someone else. So whatever your beliefs, if you could, please take a moment for the people below.  Even if you don't believe in prayer, I know they will appreciate your care and concern.

Tommy has found out that he has cancer. It seems to be in it's early stages, which is good, but it is inoperable and he is going to have to endure a long period of intense radiation treatments.

Martha has endured a lot of health issues. She is older and has survived a broken hip and knee replacement in the past year. But now she is very sick and confused and no one is sure why.

Ma Bugs is older too, but has been so sharp and active, even with severe arthritis. Last night she had a stroke.

Kim is having her second baby. Tests are showing a problem with the baby's heart rate, so they are going to do a c-section today.

Amy has recently lost her father-in-law and is struggling with multiple issues with her mother-in-law.

It seems that once I started this, I could just go on and on.

So here is my list. If you have a moment, please put these people in your thoughts and prayers. If you would like to add to the list, please feel free to post in my comments, and I will add them to mine.

Jeannie

Quick update ... Gracie Suellen Gray was born at 4:16 PM today. Mom and baby are happy and healthy.

Saying Goodbye

Today a story made me cry. I won't do the story justice, but I feel the need to share it. I wish that I knew that nothing like this would ever happen again. I'm heart broken to know that it will.

The first of September, fourteen pit bulls were rescued. They were found in a wooded area, chained to trees, with fires intentionally set around them.  There were other signs that this was an area used to train dogs for fighting and that the fires were set to cover up the operation.

Somehow there was not enough evidence to prevent returning all but two of the dogs to the owner.  Perhaps I am wrong, and I pray that I am, but my fury over this is almost overwhelming. The article about the return states that the authorities are monitoring the living situation of the returned dogs. I truly hope they are.

One of the dogs who was not returned was Jefferson. Isn't he handsome? Who wouldn't want him? He looks you straight in the eye. He knows what his place is in the world.

After a few weeks in the shelter, Jefferson became very sick. He had trouble breathing and tests revealed kidney failure. Initial diagnosis was incurable cancer. Jefferson stopped eating. He knew.

There was a major push to find Jefferson a foster home. The goal was to let him know the joy of a home and a couch and a loving family before it was too late.

Today it became clear that he didn't have that time, and Jefferson was put to sleep.

I never met Jefferson, but he touched me today. His story hurt my heart. Today he went to sleep surrounded by people from Birmingham Jefferson County Animal Control who had fallen in love with him. They had fostered him in his last days. In the end, he knew security and love.

Tonight I am grateful for those who open their hearts in these situations. I cannot fathom the heartbreak that they face on a daily basis.

Rest in peace, Jefferson. You were a good dog.

Heaven goes by favor; if it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.  - Mark Twain

Progress isn't made by early risers. It's made by lazy men trying to find easier ways to do something.- Robert Heinlein

There are hours that are not supposed to be associated with getting up for the day. Going to bed, yes. Getting up, no. Today my day started at 3:30 AM. Now I do realize that there are people who get up at 5:00 AM, and a few that even get up at 4:00 AM. But 3:30 is just wrong. There was a time that 3:30 was a time that I came home after a really good night. But it is not a time that I want to get up.
So after a trip to the airport, a flight to NY, a drive to Parsippany and back to NY, and a flight back to Birmingham ... I am again home. It was a good day, but it was a long day. So I will say bonne nuit a tous.

Jeannie

Boo Who?

Another Halloween with no Trick Or Treaters ... boo. Six years here, and I have not had a single Trick Or Treater. Every year I am ready. Tootsie Pops and coloring books.  And every year, I put the coloring books away and I eat the Tootsie Pops. I've bought other candy, but I like Tootsie Pops.













So here's are some images of what you missed, by not Trick Or Treating on Creekstone.

Did you say treat?

Yep, I'm the sheriff and I'm in charge, but I don't need a badge and gun.

Oh Lord, will this night ever end?

No seriously, did someone say treat?

Happy Halloween!!

Jeannie

Gettin' Nekkid - Doggy haircuts

I love my dogs. If you have met me, you know that. You don't have to know me well, just say hello and I will start telling you about them.  As my friends will attest (yes, I'm talking about you, Terry and JB), I talk about them incessantly.

Personally, I think they are adorable. I also love that they don't shed. But there is a disadvantage to no shedding. If it doesn't shed, it grows and grows and grows. That leaves you a few options. Do nothing and let it mat into a disgusting mess (not a real option), comb and brush and groom every day (yeah, I'm not really up for that either), or whack it all off every month or so.

Most people who have a maltese or poodle like to keep them in specific cuts. There are at least six haircuts that are specified for poodles. I, on the other hand, have no patience for any of them. I prefer to just shave them nekkid.

Until a few months ago, I took them to the groomer regularly. She knew that I liked them really short and they always came out looking quite handsome. But two dogs at the groomer adds up to about $80 a visit. So one day I said to myself, "Self, you can buy some nice clippers for that amount of money and then save that $80 a visit."

So I went on a search for  "good" clippers. I had no idea there were so many options. Finally, I settled on these and put in my order.  They have them in pink too for $25 more, but I thought that was frivolous.

Wahl Arco SE

I have to say that my respect for groomers increased substantially each time that I picked these clippers up. I am sure that if I had four hands, or at least three, it would be easier, but I don't think it would be better. 

After putting it off for about a week longer than I should, I decided today had to be haircut day. I mean, look at these guys. That was not going to get any better. 

Unlike when it is time for a bath, they have not learned the signs for a haircut yet. So catching the first one is not that hard. After laying out garbage bags to catch all of the hair, I decided to do Sam first. 

He was unimpressed. 

Things were going ok until he got away.  That is Sam hiding. If he doesn't look at you, you can't see him.

Then it was this one's turn. Roscoe had seen what was happening to his brother and decided to hide right off the bat. If his bed is far enough behind a chair, you can't see him either. 

Although it is a pain to do, there is also this real sense of satisfaction to this.  You just turn that thing on and zip that hair off. 

Right up until you get the the legs. Legs are hard. They have way too many nooks and crannies to curve around. 

Oh and the dogs are seriously unhappy when that thing gets next to their boy parts. They do not trust me one little bit there.

And then there is the mess.  It gets everywhere. Up your nose, all over your clothes and under every piece of furniture.

But aren't they cute when it's done?  Ok, so I won't think about grooming as a new career. 

 At least it is sweater season, so no one can really tell.

Jeannie

Out of Proportion - On Cooking Soup

My mom was a wonderful cook. She had no idea what oregano or basil were ... salt, pepper, garlic powder and chili powder were about as far as she ever got. But she could make some fabulous meals.

Unfortunately, she had no patience for teaching. None.

My father was the exact opposite. The first time that I walked in and told him I had a flat tire, his response was "Well, I guess you better go change it." It was the first time that my pitiful look got me no where with him. So by the time I turned 17, I could change a tire, check the oil, and fix a stuck choke on the carburetor of a 1974 Nova Hatchback.

Mine didn't come with the guy or the fancy wheels, but that was pretty much my car.

So all of this is my way of saying that I was a southern woman who could not cook.  Worse than not being able to cook, I was a walking disaster in the kitchen. I was mainly known for bleeding in the kitchen. If I walked in and picked up a knife, a good supply of band-aids needed to be in the house.

But a few years ago I moved back to Birmingham and decided that I was going to learn. I have a nice house, with a pretty kitchen and all of the utensils and appliances. (My nephew is the Director of Design for Viking Appliances, so I have some really fancy, schmancy mixers and cookware. Wouldn't you think someone could cook if you saw that in their kitchen?)

Viking Professional Mixer

With time and practice I have gotten better, although I will never reach the standards of my friend, Katie. My cooking has grown from disaster, to edible, to not bad, to pretty good. The two biggest drawbacks to my cooking continue to be the same drawbacks that I have in other parts of my life. My failure to read through and follow all of the directions, and my belief that more is always better. 

Last night, as the house got chilly, it seemed like a good time for soup. Now I always thought that vegetable soup came from a red can with Campbell's on the front, but Katie taught me how yummy homemade veggie soup could be. So I trekked the two blocks to my local Western Supermarket and hit the frozen foods aisle. (I still don't like knives very much. I've stopped cutting myself, but I still have flashbacks.) Happily I found a big bag of veggies labeled soup vegetables. Convenient, huh? Except you know that more is better thing? Yeah ... I like corn, so I bought an extra little bag of that. Oh, and there didn't look like there was enough okra in it. I'm southern and love my okra. So I bought a bag of that. And although there were lots of butter beans and grean beans and peas, into everyone's life a little edamame should fall, don't you agree? And seriously, there were no potatoes. I mean, there were, but I really like potatoes. So off to the produce section where, for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to buy a five pound bag of golden potatoes.  Add a box of chicken broth and some cans of diced tomatoes (just in case one wasn't enough) and a can of tomato sauce (cause -- you got it -- I like tomatoes) and I'm off to cook.

I was already too late to have this for dinner, so I threw it all in the crock pot. Well, I tried to throw it all into the crock pot. Alas, where's the soup? I had to bang the top down to get it to close. There really was chicken broth and a large can of diced tomatoes down there, but basically that is a lot of veggies. And I still had a five pound bag of potatoes!

So after letting it cook all night, it was beginning to resemble soup, but it was still not quite right ... and there was the potato problem.

So this morning I transferred everything into a big

pot on the stove and started to add stuff (yeah, I know). You will be happy to know I did not add the entire bag of potatoes, but I did make a dent in the bag, and I added another big can of diced tomatoes. Then, heaven help me, I started playing in the spice rack. More salt and pepper, that's safe ... A little garlic powder, still with things Mom knew. Basil and oregano, nope, Mom never went down that road. Cumin? I have no idea what made me throw that in there.  But isn't it pretty?

I just had my first bowl and I must say ... that ain't bad stuff. Now to find 42 of my closest friends to eat it with me. 

This morning my friend Bill, who is living in Italy, sent me a great looking recipe for stuffed pepper soup. It says it just feeds ten. Maybe I can follow those instructions.  Who am I kidding?

Jeannie

Sam I Am

Meet Sam.

One of the boys. AKA Sam I Am, Sammy, Sam Sam, Chunky Monkey. Previously know as Whistler.

About four years ago, I got an email from a dog trainer that I had worked with. This was the email. Honest .... after all these years, I've kept it. I know, I'm weird.


I have a client who is looking for a new home for her male miniature poodle, "Whistler".  He is black/grey approx. 5 yrs. old and neutered.  The owner called me for training in March '07 because he had growled & nipped at their housekeeper when she tried to take a tissue away from him and did the same with family members if they tried to move him from his resting spot (on chair, couch, or bed, etc.).  Her 10 y.o. son antagonizes Whistler (pokes at him, gets in his face) and so Whistler has nipped/bitten him on four occassions.  Her 13 yr. old teenage daughter spoils and babys him - which is part of the problem. He does some guarding of bones, chews, etc.,  and so I would work free of charge with his adopter and take them through my leadership and resource guarding protocol/training - which has very good results.  Keep reading...!

 

I feel sad about this - at the time we were training, they had a deposit on a golden retriever puppy and were thinking about getting rid of him then.  It felt as if they were already "replacing" him.  I found him to be very charming and he responded very well to my firm, calm, leadership energy. I was able to move him off his spot on his chair with no problems.  He was very trainable and loved working for treat rewards and I found him a lot fun to work with - very intelligent. I think he would do completely great with an owner who would not spoil him, but be a good, firm, fair leader for him.  I would love to take him myself if I didn't already have 3 dogs - which is my husband's current limit (not to mention any board and train dogs that are here for training!). 

 

She told me today that she hasn't been able to find a home for him and that she'll most likely put him down if I don't get any leads.  If she takes him to a shelter, they'll have to put him down because of the bite history - they can't adopt him out for liability reasons.  There are some dogs that I would recommend euthanasia for if I think the aggression is not rehabilitatable, but this dog is SO NOT one of those dogs. 

 

Let me know if you or anyone you know would be interested.  I don't normally send out these kinds of announcements, it's just that this little guy really made an impression on me.  I remember telling my husband about him back in March - saying how cool he was... 

Now if you are a dog lover, or even if you're not, you've probably seen email after email from folks trying to find homes for fabulous dogs that, for no fault of their own, are in tough situations. I read them and my heart breaks. I immediately start contemplating whether I can take another one, or who I know who might just love a dog like that. But Whistler's story just stuck with me. I found myself checking on his status and trying to sell the idea of him to anyone that I thought might possibly be a good fit.  The problem was that one word "bite". Everyone ran from the idea of a dog that already had a bad history. 

After about a month, I let them know I would take him. I magnanimously said "If I can break him of biting, I will find him a home. If I can't, we will figure out what comes next." Don't I sound all rescuer like?

So Sam came to Creekstone. This was day one. Doesn't he look relaxed? Poor puddin'. He was fat still is), and wearing a turquoise sweater with sequins (that went away in the first two minutes). 

He was clearly so confused. He had only known one family and now he was in a strange house with new people and an annoying little white dog. 

 Every time something would happen that made him feel unsure, he would run to his crate, lie down and lick his lips.

The trainer explained that dogs would lick their lips to sooth themselves. There was a lotta lip licking going on.

I didn't really like the name Whistler, and half of my face was paralyzed (another story) and saying Whistler was not the easiest thing in the world for me. 

My father was suffering with Alzheimer's Disease disease at the time and really couldn't hang on to names. But as I was growing up, he had always called me Sam. I don't know why. I'm sure he didn't know why. But he called me Sam, and it was a name he could remember. So Whistler became Sam. Whistler had a bad reputation. Sam had no reputation.

I would love to say that I did something miraculous with Sam and changed a bad dog to a good dog. Honestly, Sam was just a good dog looking for a place to be good. We had a couple of rocky spots in that first week. But correction was a simple "we don't do that here". Yeah, I know he didn't understand those words, but I promise, that and an occasional "NO" was all that I did. No dog whispering needed. 

Roscoe liked him right off.   And Roscoe grew on Sam.

After a couple of weeks, I was having a glass of wine with some friends and one of them reminded me that I had said that I would find Sam a home if I could break him from biting. 

I sheepishly said "I did. He lives here now."

Knowing me well, they all started to laugh. No one had doubted that once Sam got here, he would never go anywhere else.

Sheesh ...

So now I have two boys. They are as different in personality as they are in color. Sam is sweet and loving and hates to be in trouble. (Roscoe .... he's another story.) I find it funny that all of the people who were afraid to take Whistler now would love to have Sam. But that isn't happening. He has found his forever home. And my life is better for it. 

Looking for a good dog? Try one that other people don't want. You might just find your own Sam.