A dog's life

I haven't forgotten my Napa photos promise. The problem is that it's SO much easier to upload pictures to Facebook and write commentary there; it's hard to motivate myself to post the same pictures here. If you know me in real life, you can find me in that crazy land of endless Scrabble games and voyeurism.

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Our harnesses came today!

I ordered one that goes around my waist. Basically, it's a climbing harness without the leg loops. It has a water bottle holster and a small bag on the back. The bag fits my iPod and the *ahem* doggie bags. I can attach the leash at the side, front or back. After doing so much work to teach her that I'm the one in front, I was happy to find an option that let me put her to the side. (Sounds so authoritarian, huh? Well, you had to find out sooner or later what I was really like. Dad--no need for comments from the peanut gallery!.

The harness for Muttola is a Ruff wear hiking harness. It has a handle in the back that allows you to lift the dog over rocks or up ladders. Lots of people seem to use it when their dogs are old and have strokes or whatever. She seemed happy when I was putting it on her, but I think it was just the up close attention. When we left the house to walk down the steps, she paused on every third step and looked at me. I could hear her groaning inside, "The indiginity! How could you! What IS this thing?" It took three times as long as usual for her to believe she could actually pee in the thing.

For our run tomorrow, I think I'll see how it goes with her regular collar and train her toward the harness.

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Since I've now officially crossed the line (having shopped for items for to wear together with a dog), I can bore you with one more dog story.

Our dog has begun to try to be the boss of the dog park, or at least the big sister. If a puppy is getting picked on, she breaks up the pack. She is adept at a loud, startling puppy take down, and only has to do it once per pup. When we got to the dog park yesterday, only one dog remained. Let's call the dog Duchess. Duchess didn't get up when we came in, didn't run toward the mutt, in fact, she just sat with her front legs crossed and stared Muttola down. With this dog...

*this photo was NOT taken at our dog park . . .

Muttola stopped twenty feet away and then slowly circled her. Eventually they did the sniffing bit and then Duchess sat back down and continued to rule her domain.

That dog left and it was just us for a couple minutes. We saw a guy coming toward the park with his dog lunging ahead in eager tugs. As they came to the gate, Muttola did something I'd never seen her do before. She lay down, crossed her front legs, and watched the gate. The new dog, Brainless, did the same nervous circle that Muttola had done. When Muttola stood up for the sniffy sniffs, she didn't even have to bother with a puppy take down. Done and done with the stare of the Duchess!

So THAT's what it was!

On Tuesday morning I woke up and it felt like I'd slept on my right arm so long that the whole shoulder had gone to sleep. When I moved, it felt like I had toxic sludge moving up and down my arm and back. Yuck. I went climbing that night anyway. Had no issues with strength and felt like the exercise would help clear out my arm.

However, every night since then, the pain wakes me in the middle of the night and the sludge shifts and attacks unexpectedly throughout the day and it's been miserable.

I still went running with the dog Tuesday and Thursday mornings. (I've been meaning to post about the running thing. Angie mentioned podrunner.com and I downloaded his interval training "First Day to 5k" and have been using it every other day ever since. I take the dog and the 'run' only takes 10 minutes more than walking her would. The sad truth is that running has nothing to do with wanting to be healthy or whatever, it's purely a desire to get the nice lean build that most runners have. Yup. Vanity is a much bigger motivator for me than health. Sad, but true. It also might relate to a quick prayer a month ago or so, "Jesus, you've got to change my mind so I get in shape. I just don't care, but I'm starting to hate how I look." Totally tangential post, the ways God uses our crazy minds to motivate us.)

Anyway, my Dad was still here as I pouted around full of toxic doses of pain, "Did you consult your doctor?" he asked in concern.

"Dad, I live with one!"

I suspect Jrex thought it was a bit in my head and I was being a little over dramatic. Since that would be the first time in our marriage I've EVER dramatized, I don't know why he might suspect such a thing.

Saturday morning, I called one of my best friends. She's a massage therapist and asked me a different set of questions:

"Have you been doing anything on a regular basis that might have added up to the point where you suddenly felt the pain? Especially a new activity?"

Hmm...like running with a dog who likes to think she's The Great Squirrel Hunter of All Time and has to chase after each bugger she sees until she yanks up short on the end of the leash? Do you mean that sort of pulling for 30 minutes every other day?

After her diagnosis, Jrex did a series of muscle strength tests to figure out what I'd damaged. Looks like it's the top of my right shoulder (the deltoid, to be precise). I spent much of yesterday afternoon looking for a hands-free leash system and a good harness for the dog. I now know far more than I ever wanted about weird sports like skijoring and the Iditarod, but still haven't found one I'm ready to buy. She's a weird shape and has a very pointy chest-bone. Most harnesses look uncomfortable for her build.

Now I know I've become one of those dog people.

It's HOT

All Together Now
Work picked up again this week, but it's been great. We've had a whole week to brainstorm and work on theme and image solutions for an upcoming show. We have 4 really solid concepts and I'm excited for Tuesday's presentation.

In my job at Science Devices International, my design director constantly made remarks about how I wasn't acting like a senior designer. She wanted me to go off into my cube and come out with The Solution. I've realized that my style is much more collaborative. This week has been perfect. I've had three other people involved who each came up with great concepts. Once I started putting the pieces together, I got other ideas to further what they'd begun. In the end, it's to the entire department's credit, not mine. I like it better that way; plus, the client gets much better options.

On-line hook-up attempts
When we moved here and decided to share a car, it really limited my ability to climb. If I have the car, that means I also have to walk the dog, so I can't head to the gym after work. If I don't have the car, then I have to ride 1-2 miles from the train station to the gym. For over a year, I was ok with not climbing. I waited and hoped that Jrex might decide he'd like nothing better than climbing with me (thus far, nope). Going to Yosemite changed all that. As I watched groups of women with wiry arms pulling gear out of their cars, when I looked up at the most amazing cliffs I've ever seen, while I played around on the rocks every where we hiked, I realized how profoundly I miss it. I discovered that if I don't climb outside while living in California, I will regret it the rest of my life. I try to live without those kinds of regrets, so, I posted an ad on Craigslist so I can meet up with some strangers. Crazy!

I said I was out of shape for climbing, but when I was in shape was doing 5.10's. I've only had three responses, one woman and two men. I did specify that I was married and in my 30's (lest anyone get funny notions). They all sound like great potential partners. The woman is also out of shape and was climbing at a similar level when she was in shape so she's my first choice. She had to cancel on me tonight, but that's fine--it was 106 degrees when I rode my bike to the train--I'd rather just stay home tonight. We've got another time scheduled for next week.

When all the on-line community stuff started happening, before I was a part of it, I thought anyone with an on-line life was a loner. Like they couldn't handle the real world. What I've discovered instead is that it's made my circle much wider than ever before. Since 10th grade, I've been comfortable going up to strangers to start a conversation. This is just a different format.

More fun than I expected.

"I love it! This so fun!!"

My mother-in-law turns to me, her face glistening with water, shirt and pants drenched and clinging to her. We're climbing stone stairs next to a waterfall in Yosemite. The 'mist trail' is turning out to be more of a 'rain-storm'. Each time the wind blows, we're soaked with another wave of freezing cold water. We're climbing steep walls of the river carved canyon on man-made stairs of boulders and rocks, all drenched with water.

Mom K keeps laughing. She's using one of the trekking poles we brought for her and Dad; she's mostly steady on her feet. She's 69, barely five feet tall and has the slightly bowed legs from being carried on other's backs until she was 8 (a maid carried her to school each day). I walk up behind her with my hands out, 'spotting' her in case she slips on the wet rocks. She only needs me once.

We finally get beyond the heavy spray and stake out a place in a patch of sun. I've been glancing back trying to spot Jrex and his Dad, but haven't seen them for a long time. While we wait for them, we try to dry off. She's still giggling, I'm laughing both with and at her. Her carefully blow-dried hair drips and curls around her sun visor as she wipes the water from her glasses. Neither of us have a dry item of clothing left, so we're just smearing big droplets into smaller ones. After a couple of minutes, she's ready to go on. I'm concerned about Jrex, worried something might have happened to Dad on the wet stones, so I insist we wait for them, "In case." She nods, "Of course. In case."

After ten minutes or so, Jrex strolls up with his Dad panting beside him. Dad sits down. His face is pasty beneath his sun-bronzed skin. He's been a heavy smoker all his life, and it's finally catching up with him. After drinks of water and photos of the waterfall, we trudge up more steps. At the next break (20 steps later), Dad K wants to turn around and go back down. We can almost see the top, but he's done. Mom K, contrary to any cultural norm that I'm aware of, wants to keep going up. We start to divide up the food so Mom and I can eat something at the top. Jrex insists on going back down with Dad, "in case". As we're digging through the backpack and discussing what I can fit in my pockets and small camera bag, Dad K interjects with disgust, "OK. I go up."

Fifteen minutes later, we make it. After eating, photographing, napping, taking a potty break (great thing about Yosemite--public toilets everywhere! No digging holes or going in the woods), and smoking a couple cigarettes for the road, we head back down. On the way down, when we reach the wet steps, Mom K starts hopping down them like a rabbit. I laughed and told her she was crazy and she agreed!

All told, a three-mile hike took us 'only' five hours...

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As soon as I get the photos off of Jrex's computer, I'll post a select few. I went a little crazy with pictures. Dad and I didn't do competitive pics (though if I took one in a certain spot, he was quick to do the same). He didn't like how I off-centered people and took candid photos and he certainly didn't understand why I kept taking close-ups of rocks or tree bark. Actually, Jrex is the master of the super-macro mode and took some really beautiful bark pictures. He's got a great eye, he'd just rather BE where he is than document it.

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We're back 'home' though it doesn't feel like home. Not just cause the in-laws are still here, but Jrex and I are realizing more and more that we just aren't desert rats. The dry, brown, or artificial green of California isn't our scene. It just didn't feel like we were coming back to our place. Even the apartment just feels like a collection of our stuff, but not really our home. We have two more years here, which we'll enjoy, but it's not where we want to settle (despite all of Mom K's hints that it would be a good place for us).

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Still to come: I bonded a little too well with Jrex's niece.

The Morning: Movement

In the morning we met my brother at Golden Gardens (I keep calling it Golden Gate), it’s a beach/playground area on the Puget Sound. While I assisted Blonde Niece climb UP the tunnel slide (over and over and over), a woman came by to offer her a balloon. Apparently, she and the other 20 adults milling around next to the playground were waiting for their kids.

We’d noticed a banner reading “P2S —You did it!” and assumed it was for a graduation or birthday. Turns out, P2S stands for “Providence to Seattle”. A group of 20 college kids were due any minute after biking across the country. They’d started June 10 and rode every day except for stops to work on Habitat for Humanity projects. The whole ride was a fund and awareness raiser.

Blonde Niece finally decided she was ready to go build sand castles so we waddled briskly over to where OTRsis had set up camp. Eventually, my brother joined us and Blonde Niece proudly showed him her handiwork. All of a sudden we heard screams, shouts and yells—the bikers were coming! The approach to the beach involves a long downhill that gives a glimpse of the ocean, then parralels the beach for 500 yards before turning back into the long parking lot. As we turned to watch the bikes streaming down the hill, we started sniffling. The raw exultation called for a response and all we could do was tear up!

The screaming bikers swept into the area where their parents were gathered, then turned and attacked the beach. They rode to the water’s edge, dropped the bikes, then piled into the sea surrounded by and filled with screams and cheers. Even my bro got a little watery.

He's Got Game

Last night I “commissioned” a piano piece.

After I made dinner I asked Jrex to improv something based on “Taking Muttola for a walk”. He muttered, “This is more of a [k.’s Jrex] assignment.” [k, author of Harmless Drudge is married to an extraordinary composer/musician] Fortunately for me—Jrex isn’t so bad himself.

He created a piece that I think a select few would find hilarious: that privileged club of houseguests who’ve taken it upon themselves to try to walk the Mutt. It was full of the flippity-flop of her ears as she trots along, a few swift descents as she runs toward a squirrel; the ploop ploop of poopilage and the constant interruptions of plinks as she marks every bush that she sees. He used his left hand to represent himself and his right as the mutt. I know one isn’t supposed to laugh out loud at concerts, but, ahem, I’ve never been good at all those social niceties…

By the way, if you have any interest at all in grammar, you should check out Harmless Drudge’s site. She works for the dictionary and has just finished a masterpiece of the grammar family reunion complete with graphics!

So far no broken bones

This is the view as I bike into work in the morning.

My supervisor worries about me driving in the dark to catch the train at night. That's not the real concern. Far more worrisome is my klutz factor. On the way home Thursday I managed to hit the lip of a handicap curb wrong. Let's just say that the rest of the ride to the train station the song in my head was, "Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again."

We Interrupt

...the regularly scheduled blog post for this update. While in the middle of switching to blogger beta, with links and formatting incomplete, two things happened. One: I finally went to the neighborhood pool and sampled the Menlo Masters. At the moment I'm thinking I'll join and swim 3x a week. We'll see how long that ambition lasts!! Also I got a contract job for a drug company. It's certainly nothing I'd want to do full time, but 25-35 hours of work/wk from home sounds great right now! I can continue (ha! Start is more like it) doing Flash tutorials, walking the dog, and now swimming.

It was gratifying at the end of the practice when the coach said, "Well, OTRgirl, you survived your first practice, congratulations!" and the woman I'd shared the lane with turned and gasped, "That was your FIRST one?" I guess she's been doing this for a while. Granted, she's petite and in her 50's or 60's so it wasn't particularly impressive that I was (barely) able to keep up with her, but it still felt good.