Starting today I'll be taking in dogs for training. Not just any training, mind you, I'm going to take dogs in and start them on stock... all without ever leaving my house. Oh yes, this will be a good way to take out the potential for danger and injury for your dog.
I will start by teaching a stop using the back door method. When I recall a dog to come inside I'll slam the door shut in their faces while screaming "Lie DOWN!". When they hit the deck I'll toss a cookie through the doggie door. This, of course, will become less effective as the dogs learn they can come through the doggie door, so this will need to be implemented at a young age.
Next they'll learn to call off. This will be taught on a long line, and I'll teach them to call off from chasing Zippy. I mean, he's white. Mostly. And silly, and he doesn't notice when other dogs harrass him anyway. So, recall will be taught from chasing the Small Dog. I can see as to where this might be a problem considering that Zippy doesn't really run very often, but I assure you, my skeptical future employers, that I'll find a way around that. Even Small Dog runs for dinner.
The next part of the Inner-City Sheepdog Training Program is teaching flanks. I'll start them off in the back yard on a long line, and then progress to free lungeing with treats thrown at an intermittent reinforcement schedule to reinforce directions. From there we will progress to flanking around the house. I'll use a chuck-it and big strong man (big strong man TBD) to reinforce the flanks out of sight. This should open the dogs up nicely, and give nice *square* flanks.
Driving might be a bit tricky, but for this we'll make use of the long sidewalk in front of my house, and a remote-controlled car. I'll teach the dogs to follow along behind a remote-controlled car, and will keep them on a long line so as to ensure their safety while adjacent to our slightly busy street. I can, of course, stand on the porch for this exercise. Additionally, I will smear peanut butter on the spoiler of the car to reinforce rapt following of said car.
Finally they'll complete the starting portion of their training with some beginner shedding. I'll start them out with a couch cushion setup. It's important to have cushions that neither cling or swirl, and I'll have to set them on different sides of the living room to make sure there's enough room to call the dog through. When the dog gets proficient at cushion shedding, we'll move on to shedding the dogs that live in the house. If they can shed the Crazies... they can shed ANYTHING.
Should the neighbor's duck get loose again I'll utilize him to introduce the dog to different stock.
After all of this, your dog should return to you sufficiently started to do anything you need him to do. For this amazing service I will charge $1800 per month, per dog, and they must bring their own food. You, the owner, must supply sufficient cookies to cement these methods. I am intending to implement an online training follow up course, entitled "Training your dog on look backs using items you have in your own home".
Please email me for more information. I'm eager to get started, and I'm sure your sheepdog is too! Annnnnnd.... if you act now I'll throw in one free week of look back training too!
This message has been brought to you in jest and does not seriously reflect the true thoughts or methods of the author. Disclaimer: Please, do not try this at home
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Becoming the Statistic
This past Friday I was laid off from the job I've held for right at 10 years. Earlier this year we took pay cuts (ouch) and now... the ultimate pay cut. I hope the very best for the company, but man does this ever hurt. Even when you know it might be coming it still hurts when it happens, right? In some ways it's a relief that I no longer have that axe hanging over my head. It will be a bigger relief if I get a paycheck for the last two weeks.
Someone in my family is in a similar situation. This person's company has instituted 30% pay cuts and put a freeze on overtime. You don't really have many options when your pay disappears (or your job for that matter) and you don't have another job lined up. Almost everyone I know has been negatively impacted with regards to income and job security. It's heart breaking, and scary.
I'm going today to sign up with a temporary/staffing agency in hopes to fill in the gaps while I find a permanent place to land. Unemployment Insurance will help but it won't be enough to live on. I've finally had some positive response otherwise, so I'm crossing my fingers there. But in the meantime I'm treating this as the desperate situation that it is.
So the dogs aren't getting a whole lot of work right now. I'd had visions at one point of trying to get my dogs qualified for the finals this year - as it's in VA, which is practically in my back yard. Now I'm just having hopes of surviving and keeping a roof over my head. Oh, and that's not to mention the snow and rain and mud and muck! It's been an icky winter so far, and I'm pretty much over it. I still have Moon, but she's such a good sweet girl that she's really not much trouble at all. I've not particularly felt like blogging much - there's not been much to say, or in the case of where there is much to say not much I CAN say. I'm just hoping and praying that it gets better for all of us - and soon.
Someone in my family is in a similar situation. This person's company has instituted 30% pay cuts and put a freeze on overtime. You don't really have many options when your pay disappears (or your job for that matter) and you don't have another job lined up. Almost everyone I know has been negatively impacted with regards to income and job security. It's heart breaking, and scary.
I'm going today to sign up with a temporary/staffing agency in hopes to fill in the gaps while I find a permanent place to land. Unemployment Insurance will help but it won't be enough to live on. I've finally had some positive response otherwise, so I'm crossing my fingers there. But in the meantime I'm treating this as the desperate situation that it is.
So the dogs aren't getting a whole lot of work right now. I'd had visions at one point of trying to get my dogs qualified for the finals this year - as it's in VA, which is practically in my back yard. Now I'm just having hopes of surviving and keeping a roof over my head. Oh, and that's not to mention the snow and rain and mud and muck! It's been an icky winter so far, and I'm pretty much over it. I still have Moon, but she's such a good sweet girl that she's really not much trouble at all. I've not particularly felt like blogging much - there's not been much to say, or in the case of where there is much to say not much I CAN say. I'm just hoping and praying that it gets better for all of us - and soon.
Monday, January 18, 2010
International Shedding Clinic
This past Saturday I went with Julie and met up with Robin and Dan at an International Shedding clinic with Tommy Wilson. I was fortunate to be able to go audit, and had an absolute ball. I always watch International Sheds at trials on the edge of my seat, and it was nice to be able to begin to have some sort of understanding without the pressures of a trial situation. Shoot, if I'm truly honest it was nice to not have the pressures of trying to do it with my dog but to be able to watch and learn.
I usually manage to take a few things home from a clinic, somehow only being able to absorb a small number of things at one time. Here are the four things I took home from this one:
- Watch the sheep you want to keep, but don't look at the ones you want to let go
- Sometimes you do what you have to do to save it, even if it means losing a couple of points
- If you turn the ones back you want to let go too many times they'll not want to go
- If you turn the ones back you want to keep very assertively they'll think twice about trying to go next time
It was a fun time, and since the Small Dog was one of the chosen three who got to go, he had a blast of a time. Dan King kindly took the two pictures in this post, thanks Dan!
Monday, January 11, 2010
An Afternoon in the Life of a Crazy
I loaded up the CrazyMobile with six dogs yesterday - my five plus Robin's Moon who happens to be hanging out at Chez Crazy for a little while (not permanently). We went out to Julie's to work a little and to play a little.
We took two nice walks - and nevermind the fact that it's stupid cold outside the border collies, excepting Moon, all decided to take a swim in the frigid creek. Not just once, but twice. Man was it cold, but the dogs were happy to get out.
Zippy was not thrilled to be taken on a walk, but my vet wants to see him maintain the muscle mass in his back end, or possibly increase it. Speaking of Zippy - turns out he has a Grade 4 heart murmur. I need to get him scheduled to go in and take an X-Ray, and start him on some meds. He's just sixteen, and finally starting to show his age some. It absolutely breaks my heart, but on the other hand I've been blessed with almost five years with him now and I'm grateful for each day. Well, that is except for the days maybe where he's "One Papillon Free to a Good Home".
Ginger got to come into the big pasture with me while Julie and I worked on pulling some of the unpalatable parts of the round bale she'd just gotten off of the bale. While we did this Ginger wandered around obvlivious to the fact that Kelly and Spottie were out there working. Ginger is oblivious to sheep as Zippy is oblivious to chickens.
I worked Linc a bit - and practiced staying relaxed but firm. It worked pretty well, and he managed to stay relaxed. I used him to sort Crazy Red out of the group, and then to sort sheep later for the puppies. I didn't see any crashing into the sheep on inside flanks, and I was very pleased that he seemed to be listening just right. I think it would be fair to say we BOTH had good attitudes. Mark the day down.
After that I got to see some puppy working (yay puppies!) and then Nick got recruited to push the sheep off of the feed bunks while Julie put out feed. He pushed the ducks off of the feed too - which always makes him happy as he loves him some ducks. I then took him behind the barn with me to collect eggs where he got attacked by one of Julie's housemate's Velociraptors. I told him to "get em up" - which to Julie's dismay only resulted in closed-mouthed lungeing. Oh yeah, Velociraptors of the world shall quake at our feet. NOT! So much for that. I'd hoped he might teach them a lesson. Guess not.
Finally around 4:30 we put dogs up and went to pick up about 35,000 bales of hay. No, not really. Actually it was 35 bales of hay that the hay guy threw down to me as I loaded them on the trailer. Julie supervised. Activity points baby! We wound up putting them up in the dark as we realized when we got back that we had JUST enough daylight for that second dog walk. I'll admit that when we got to the last bale (we had to carry it a ways, toss it over the fence, and then stack it in the barn) I was pretty wiped out. Good work - a nice start to this week's plan to start losing weight, making healthier choices, and so on. Too bad it won't count as the week starts on Tuesday.
Our reward? After the hay stacking (Julie did most of the stacking part) a stop at Cracker Barrel for pancakes. YUM! So really living in the city and not having my own sheep means I have to work harder to get my dogs work, and work harder to get MYSELF work. But it's worth it.
After all of that I went home and washed off Nick's neck. Why? That's because Nick had apparently amused himself by rolling in cat pee while I helped Julie with hay. Bad dog. I then fed dogs, and hung out with my feet up just waiting for bed time. I must have gotten lazy recently as the work took much more of a toll on me as it should. But man is it ever rewarding.
Photo by Dan King
We took two nice walks - and nevermind the fact that it's stupid cold outside the border collies, excepting Moon, all decided to take a swim in the frigid creek. Not just once, but twice. Man was it cold, but the dogs were happy to get out.
Zippy was not thrilled to be taken on a walk, but my vet wants to see him maintain the muscle mass in his back end, or possibly increase it. Speaking of Zippy - turns out he has a Grade 4 heart murmur. I need to get him scheduled to go in and take an X-Ray, and start him on some meds. He's just sixteen, and finally starting to show his age some. It absolutely breaks my heart, but on the other hand I've been blessed with almost five years with him now and I'm grateful for each day. Well, that is except for the days maybe where he's "One Papillon Free to a Good Home".
Ginger got to come into the big pasture with me while Julie and I worked on pulling some of the unpalatable parts of the round bale she'd just gotten off of the bale. While we did this Ginger wandered around obvlivious to the fact that Kelly and Spottie were out there working. Ginger is oblivious to sheep as Zippy is oblivious to chickens.
I worked Linc a bit - and practiced staying relaxed but firm. It worked pretty well, and he managed to stay relaxed. I used him to sort Crazy Red out of the group, and then to sort sheep later for the puppies. I didn't see any crashing into the sheep on inside flanks, and I was very pleased that he seemed to be listening just right. I think it would be fair to say we BOTH had good attitudes. Mark the day down.
After that I got to see some puppy working (yay puppies!) and then Nick got recruited to push the sheep off of the feed bunks while Julie put out feed. He pushed the ducks off of the feed too - which always makes him happy as he loves him some ducks. I then took him behind the barn with me to collect eggs where he got attacked by one of Julie's housemate's Velociraptors. I told him to "get em up" - which to Julie's dismay only resulted in closed-mouthed lungeing. Oh yeah, Velociraptors of the world shall quake at our feet. NOT! So much for that. I'd hoped he might teach them a lesson. Guess not.
Finally around 4:30 we put dogs up and went to pick up about 35,000 bales of hay. No, not really. Actually it was 35 bales of hay that the hay guy threw down to me as I loaded them on the trailer. Julie supervised. Activity points baby! We wound up putting them up in the dark as we realized when we got back that we had JUST enough daylight for that second dog walk. I'll admit that when we got to the last bale (we had to carry it a ways, toss it over the fence, and then stack it in the barn) I was pretty wiped out. Good work - a nice start to this week's plan to start losing weight, making healthier choices, and so on. Too bad it won't count as the week starts on Tuesday.
Our reward? After the hay stacking (Julie did most of the stacking part) a stop at Cracker Barrel for pancakes. YUM! So really living in the city and not having my own sheep means I have to work harder to get my dogs work, and work harder to get MYSELF work. But it's worth it.
After all of that I went home and washed off Nick's neck. Why? That's because Nick had apparently amused himself by rolling in cat pee while I helped Julie with hay. Bad dog. I then fed dogs, and hung out with my feet up just waiting for bed time. I must have gotten lazy recently as the work took much more of a toll on me as it should. But man is it ever rewarding.
Photo by Dan King
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Growing Pains
This dog working thing is so fluid. It's intuitive, in the moment, and it changes from one second to the next. I'm not a big fan of changes. I like rules, schedules, and I like for things to be as they are and stay as they are forever Amen. So sometimes when I think I have a particular issue with a dog worked out and it pops back up I just don't know what to do. When the picture changes I struggle just a little sometimes.
I farm-sat for Mary and Tony over Christmas. I had a ball, the dogs had a ball, and while farm-sitting is always hard work (anyone need a good farm-sitter?) I always have fun. I worked the dogs a little while I was there, but unfortunately being over the holidays I didn't have as much free time as I would have liked.
Anyway, one day out there Robin commented that it didn't seem like Linc and I were having much fun. Turns out she was right. He was being a little hard-head, and in response I was cranking on him. The tougher I'd get the tougher he'd get, and it was like watching a modern day sword-fight except with sheep, dogs, and one seriously pissed off human.
So with Robin's help I relaxed. I helped my dog relax. Suddenly we were working together as a team again. That begs the question - does he get tough because I get tough, or do I get tough because he does? Do we feed on each other - is it like a spontaneous combustion? Did he *already* know I was stressed and it just became one big head butting match? I realize that I am under considerable stress otherwise, and I'm sure that it must be eeking out and leaching into my dog working. I noticed Nick reacting strongly to me the other day at Mary's, and I'm sure some of it is simply a response to the turmoil that has nothing to do with them at all. These dogs, they read me well. I can only hope to become a fraction as skilled in reading them!
Every time I think I have my relationship with Linc figured out it seems like I've set myself up for another growing pain. I think I have it all figured out, and then I realize I'm having a lapse. I'll realize I have my shoulders up around my ears, and I'm running around the field shrieking like a banshee and looking like I have no neck. I'm like the neckless bandit of dog working. Not pretty. So thankfully Robin and Julie gently remind me to relax, and next thing I know the whole picture changes.
These growing pains are hard. But they're worth it I think. Linc is going to make me a better trainer and handler even if it kills us both.
I farm-sat for Mary and Tony over Christmas. I had a ball, the dogs had a ball, and while farm-sitting is always hard work (anyone need a good farm-sitter?) I always have fun. I worked the dogs a little while I was there, but unfortunately being over the holidays I didn't have as much free time as I would have liked.
Anyway, one day out there Robin commented that it didn't seem like Linc and I were having much fun. Turns out she was right. He was being a little hard-head, and in response I was cranking on him. The tougher I'd get the tougher he'd get, and it was like watching a modern day sword-fight except with sheep, dogs, and one seriously pissed off human.
So with Robin's help I relaxed. I helped my dog relax. Suddenly we were working together as a team again. That begs the question - does he get tough because I get tough, or do I get tough because he does? Do we feed on each other - is it like a spontaneous combustion? Did he *already* know I was stressed and it just became one big head butting match? I realize that I am under considerable stress otherwise, and I'm sure that it must be eeking out and leaching into my dog working. I noticed Nick reacting strongly to me the other day at Mary's, and I'm sure some of it is simply a response to the turmoil that has nothing to do with them at all. These dogs, they read me well. I can only hope to become a fraction as skilled in reading them!
Every time I think I have my relationship with Linc figured out it seems like I've set myself up for another growing pain. I think I have it all figured out, and then I realize I'm having a lapse. I'll realize I have my shoulders up around my ears, and I'm running around the field shrieking like a banshee and looking like I have no neck. I'm like the neckless bandit of dog working. Not pretty. So thankfully Robin and Julie gently remind me to relax, and next thing I know the whole picture changes.
These growing pains are hard. But they're worth it I think. Linc is going to make me a better trainer and handler even if it kills us both.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Road Rage Redux
Evidently somewhere along the line in the last few weeks I made this blog post and never published it. Oopsie! This might just be rantings of a mad woman (er, uh, as if any of my posts are anything but) but reading after the fact I found it amusing. Here it is:
Road Rage
It's hard to road rage someone when that someone is a cop in front of you sitting through the green left turn arrow. Doesn't he know that the green arrow only stays green for approximately five seconds? Doesn't he know it's stupid hard to turn on the green yield at this particular stop light? So, what, I'm reduced to sitting back there fluttering my hands and just HOPING he'll look up since I'm sure as spitting not going to honk my horn at a cop? Who beeps their horn at a cop? Not me in my way-past-due-for-inspection minivan. But really, he's standing between me and "The Baconator". That's two gigantor beef patties and enough bacon to send me into cardiac arrest with one bite. He wants to get between me and THAT? Not advisable.
Is road rage a verb? I don't think so, but it should be. I will admit that road-raging someone isn't terribly effective when you're driving a mini-van full of dog crates. It surely takes some of the sting out of it. Well, then there's the fact that the CrazyMobile doesn't have much get up and go - and it's hard to tailgate when you can't keep up. Oh, but I can cuss them out in their rear-view mirror like it's nobody's business. Then there's the fact that I don't speed. This is, of course, is an obstacle to be overcome in the act of road raging. But I win extra road-rage points for intent.
Just like sheep can read the dog's intent, so should other drivers on the road get MY intent. It's hot, mad, angry, and more than a little crazy. If I could keep up I'd kick their bad-driver behinds. But for those two seconds at the stoplight I'm all UP in their tail pipes. For those two seconds I'm a badass. That's those moments right before I push the gas pedal and the engine just rattles a little louder.
Road Rage
It's hard to road rage someone when that someone is a cop in front of you sitting through the green left turn arrow. Doesn't he know that the green arrow only stays green for approximately five seconds? Doesn't he know it's stupid hard to turn on the green yield at this particular stop light? So, what, I'm reduced to sitting back there fluttering my hands and just HOPING he'll look up since I'm sure as spitting not going to honk my horn at a cop? Who beeps their horn at a cop? Not me in my way-past-due-for-inspection minivan. But really, he's standing between me and "The Baconator". That's two gigantor beef patties and enough bacon to send me into cardiac arrest with one bite. He wants to get between me and THAT? Not advisable.
Is road rage a verb? I don't think so, but it should be. I will admit that road-raging someone isn't terribly effective when you're driving a mini-van full of dog crates. It surely takes some of the sting out of it. Well, then there's the fact that the CrazyMobile doesn't have much get up and go - and it's hard to tailgate when you can't keep up. Oh, but I can cuss them out in their rear-view mirror like it's nobody's business. Then there's the fact that I don't speed. This is, of course, is an obstacle to be overcome in the act of road raging. But I win extra road-rage points for intent.
Just like sheep can read the dog's intent, so should other drivers on the road get MY intent. It's hot, mad, angry, and more than a little crazy. If I could keep up I'd kick their bad-driver behinds. But for those two seconds at the stoplight I'm all UP in their tail pipes. For those two seconds I'm a badass. That's those moments right before I push the gas pedal and the engine just rattles a little louder.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Training Linc
I suppose this is my dog blog most of the time, but here lately I haven't had much dog-blogging to do. We're in a bit of a holding pattern here, the dogs and I, since I'm limited as to how much work I can get my dogs at the moment. I've got limited mobility, limited fundage, and I can't do any trials right now. But, I figure I can't ONLY talk about farting in colors and whatever other stupid stuff that strikes my fancy, so maybe I'll actually talk about training a dog for a change.
So. Nick's rocking right along. Not much to talk about there - I absolutely adore and depend on him. I think everyone should have a first dog like him. He's been so good for me - and he keeps my shoulder blades warm at night too. Nick believes in yes ma'am moments. He has opinions but he's open to my input, unless I'm REALLY wrong. Sometimes even then. But he believes in yes ma'am moments.
Linc is interesting. Linc doesn't believe in yes ma'am moments. He believes in "tell me why I should listen to you" moments, "make me" moments, and sometimes in "please make it clearer because I just don't get it" moments. I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, and not always fast to know where his head is some days. Linc is complicated. He's complex. He's stunning to watch. He has a shiny coat.
At the Water Cress SDT he was weird about walking straight in on the sheep - and I've seen that since. So two weekends ago we tried just letting him figure it out. Linc has a tendency to ratchet up when I correct him, so Robin and I worked on letting him know when he was where I wanted him, and otherwise leaving him alone (more or less ignoring some of the silliness). So last weekend he demonstrated that he had remembered how to bring the sheep - how to run out enthusiastically, how to walk in, and how to bring them.
So then I had to remind him he needed to stop. We'd moved on to some driving, and while tooling along I'd try to stop him. Of course I would - he was starting to slip around (ok, not slipping, more like careening) and I was trying to manage him with a stop. He wasn't listening, I was riding him, and next thing I knew he'd be blowing into the sheep on the side. Robin explained that I needed to make it clear what I wanted (not nagging for sure, which I was doing) and clear up the grey areas.
This time we used corrections when he tried to slip around the sides of the sheep (instead of my nagging him to lie down and correcting him BADLY and ineffectively as he was already committed to finding a sheep to hang off of), and talked nicely to him as he began to fall in behind the sheep. 'Lo and behold as I made this clear to him he began to soften. He was *getting it*. He was not only getting it, but he was taking corrections nicely (as opposed to butting heads with me), understanding what I wanted, and we both got to go home happy and pleased with ourselves. He finally got to the point where he wasn't testing the edges, he just was happy to sit back there and drive the sheep. A soft word from me had him adjusting. When we left Robin's last weekend I had another dog that believed in yes ma'am moments - even if only for that day.
I wonder, sometimes, if dogs sit around and discuss me like we do them. I can hear Linc right now:
That human. She just has the suckiest timing, and it makes me want to choke her. Since I can't choke her I just hang off of some sheep every now and then. It makes her SO mad! I just don't understand her. If she'd LISTEN to me. If she'd just be more clear maybe we'd mesh better. She does feed me. She picks up the poop a lot. I thought for a while she was eating it, but I've figured out that she's putting it in some bag as she goes along. As far as humans go she doesn't suck the most, but sometimes she REALLY makes me crazy. I have to work hard to figure her out sometimes. She's complicated. She does have shiny hair.
Yeah, thanks buddy.
So. Nick's rocking right along. Not much to talk about there - I absolutely adore and depend on him. I think everyone should have a first dog like him. He's been so good for me - and he keeps my shoulder blades warm at night too. Nick believes in yes ma'am moments. He has opinions but he's open to my input, unless I'm REALLY wrong. Sometimes even then. But he believes in yes ma'am moments.
Linc is interesting. Linc doesn't believe in yes ma'am moments. He believes in "tell me why I should listen to you" moments, "make me" moments, and sometimes in "please make it clearer because I just don't get it" moments. I'm a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, and not always fast to know where his head is some days. Linc is complicated. He's complex. He's stunning to watch. He has a shiny coat.
At the Water Cress SDT he was weird about walking straight in on the sheep - and I've seen that since. So two weekends ago we tried just letting him figure it out. Linc has a tendency to ratchet up when I correct him, so Robin and I worked on letting him know when he was where I wanted him, and otherwise leaving him alone (more or less ignoring some of the silliness). So last weekend he demonstrated that he had remembered how to bring the sheep - how to run out enthusiastically, how to walk in, and how to bring them.
So then I had to remind him he needed to stop. We'd moved on to some driving, and while tooling along I'd try to stop him. Of course I would - he was starting to slip around (ok, not slipping, more like careening) and I was trying to manage him with a stop. He wasn't listening, I was riding him, and next thing I knew he'd be blowing into the sheep on the side. Robin explained that I needed to make it clear what I wanted (not nagging for sure, which I was doing) and clear up the grey areas.
This time we used corrections when he tried to slip around the sides of the sheep (instead of my nagging him to lie down and correcting him BADLY and ineffectively as he was already committed to finding a sheep to hang off of), and talked nicely to him as he began to fall in behind the sheep. 'Lo and behold as I made this clear to him he began to soften. He was *getting it*. He was not only getting it, but he was taking corrections nicely (as opposed to butting heads with me), understanding what I wanted, and we both got to go home happy and pleased with ourselves. He finally got to the point where he wasn't testing the edges, he just was happy to sit back there and drive the sheep. A soft word from me had him adjusting. When we left Robin's last weekend I had another dog that believed in yes ma'am moments - even if only for that day.
I wonder, sometimes, if dogs sit around and discuss me like we do them. I can hear Linc right now:
That human. She just has the suckiest timing, and it makes me want to choke her. Since I can't choke her I just hang off of some sheep every now and then. It makes her SO mad! I just don't understand her. If she'd LISTEN to me. If she'd just be more clear maybe we'd mesh better. She does feed me. She picks up the poop a lot. I thought for a while she was eating it, but I've figured out that she's putting it in some bag as she goes along. As far as humans go she doesn't suck the most, but sometimes she REALLY makes me crazy. I have to work hard to figure her out sometimes. She's complicated. She does have shiny hair.
Yeah, thanks buddy.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Bah Humbug
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I actually said some of the things I think. I mean, truly, I often do. But sometimes for the sake of good old southern tact I hold back. It's the right thing to do. So here's what I really think about the holidays this year. If you're full of Christmas cheer you should probably stop reading now.
For starters, this ornament swap thing I have to go to every year? It's my idea of HELL. I respect that my step-mother is making a tradition (and I go because it's important to her). I go because I know it matters to her, but as a matter of personal things I would choose to go to this *type* of activity is not one I'd ever choose. So, on principle I have to gripe about this.
I don't do social gatherings really unless dogs and sheep (or seriously good food) is involved. None of the above is really involved in this thing. It's a bunch of people (mostly family) at my Dad's house and these types of gatherings I find very stressful.
Everyone brings an ornament. Numbers are drawn and then the sneaky Santa game is played with Christmas tree ornaments (I call this part multiple layers of hell). First off, it pisses me off when someone steals what I have, unless I hate it. Then it's OK. Hey, it's my hell, I can make my own rules. I don't like to steal from the others because it's not nice. See? Bound by my own conventions, but it's still hell. I'm expected to make nicey-nice when what I really want to do is single-handedly wipe out the fruitcake plate, which of course I eventually do because apparently I'm the only one there who likes fruitcake. While this should make me happy the guilt that follows plummets me into another kind of guilt-ridden hell.
I seriously wait until the first person leaves and I'm hot on their heels. Hell. Normal people just cannot possibly love these types of things.
So at the personal hell party I was discussing the logistics of getting my Christmas tree into my living room this year with another resident of this personal hell. As I am without big strong man I now have to depend on someone coming over to help me not only lug the 9' tree in there but also help me put it up and somehow get the topper on. Julie has offered to come help because she's way too good to me. However, I'm thinking the only way Julie and I are getting that topper on is if she stands on my shoulders. I draw the line at shoulder stands. I gave up shoulder stands when I graduated high school. That is unless you're talking about the sexy shirtless guy who plays Jacob in the "New Moon" movie. I might would relent for him.
At any rate, I lamented to her (another resident of hell) that I couldn't see going through all that trouble just to put up a tree that won't have a single present under it. Her comment? That I should wrap empty boxes so it would LOOK like there's presents.
Uh... hello? Who does that? I'm going to be the bigger woman and say that I want real presents under the tree dammit. Yeah, that's right. I'm not wrapping stupid empty boxes to go under the tree. What, is that like some sort of perpetual exercise in disappointment EVERY DAY? I can't imagine walking in there every day to be like, "Oh. They're empty." I mean, seriously, she even suggested I could write an "E" on the bottom of the empties so I'd know which was which. I almost choked on the stupid little cracker covered in some sort of unrecognizable but reasonably tasty dip.
While I'm at it, if I hear another Christmas song on the radio I'm going to claw my own ears off. And the movies? Everyone is all like "Ooooh! I LOVE all of those touching Christmas movies!" Gag me. I have crops to harvest on FarmVille. I don't have TIME for Christmas movies, and even if I did why would I want to sit around and snivel at all the Hallmark moments when I could be attending fun things like ornament swaps and white elephant parties?
Harbinger of Christmas Sneer = Me.
For starters, this ornament swap thing I have to go to every year? It's my idea of HELL. I respect that my step-mother is making a tradition (and I go because it's important to her). I go because I know it matters to her, but as a matter of personal things I would choose to go to this *type* of activity is not one I'd ever choose. So, on principle I have to gripe about this.
I don't do social gatherings really unless dogs and sheep (or seriously good food) is involved. None of the above is really involved in this thing. It's a bunch of people (mostly family) at my Dad's house and these types of gatherings I find very stressful.
Everyone brings an ornament. Numbers are drawn and then the sneaky Santa game is played with Christmas tree ornaments (I call this part multiple layers of hell). First off, it pisses me off when someone steals what I have, unless I hate it. Then it's OK. Hey, it's my hell, I can make my own rules. I don't like to steal from the others because it's not nice. See? Bound by my own conventions, but it's still hell. I'm expected to make nicey-nice when what I really want to do is single-handedly wipe out the fruitcake plate, which of course I eventually do because apparently I'm the only one there who likes fruitcake. While this should make me happy the guilt that follows plummets me into another kind of guilt-ridden hell.
I seriously wait until the first person leaves and I'm hot on their heels. Hell. Normal people just cannot possibly love these types of things.
So at the personal hell party I was discussing the logistics of getting my Christmas tree into my living room this year with another resident of this personal hell. As I am without big strong man I now have to depend on someone coming over to help me not only lug the 9' tree in there but also help me put it up and somehow get the topper on. Julie has offered to come help because she's way too good to me. However, I'm thinking the only way Julie and I are getting that topper on is if she stands on my shoulders. I draw the line at shoulder stands. I gave up shoulder stands when I graduated high school. That is unless you're talking about the sexy shirtless guy who plays Jacob in the "New Moon" movie. I might would relent for him.
At any rate, I lamented to her (another resident of hell) that I couldn't see going through all that trouble just to put up a tree that won't have a single present under it. Her comment? That I should wrap empty boxes so it would LOOK like there's presents.
Uh... hello? Who does that? I'm going to be the bigger woman and say that I want real presents under the tree dammit. Yeah, that's right. I'm not wrapping stupid empty boxes to go under the tree. What, is that like some sort of perpetual exercise in disappointment EVERY DAY? I can't imagine walking in there every day to be like, "Oh. They're empty." I mean, seriously, she even suggested I could write an "E" on the bottom of the empties so I'd know which was which. I almost choked on the stupid little cracker covered in some sort of unrecognizable but reasonably tasty dip.
While I'm at it, if I hear another Christmas song on the radio I'm going to claw my own ears off. And the movies? Everyone is all like "Ooooh! I LOVE all of those touching Christmas movies!" Gag me. I have crops to harvest on FarmVille. I don't have TIME for Christmas movies, and even if I did why would I want to sit around and snivel at all the Hallmark moments when I could be attending fun things like ornament swaps and white elephant parties?
Harbinger of Christmas Sneer = Me.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Of Cankles, Corn Fields, and Chicken Shows
I thought maybe some TurdiTude would make us all feel better. There. Much better.
Now on to discussions of cankles, corn fields, and chicken shows. Ever been to a chicken show? Nope, neither have I. Julie had mentioned last week she was going down to work dogs with Kelly (something about a corn field) and did I want to go? All I had to do was show up with my dogs at her house, and oh yeah, stop by a chicken show with her. Sure, I'm a dog-working ho, I can do that. Bribery works for a reason.
I was having images in my head of chickens being paraded around a ring on a leash and collar. Imagine my dismay that they actually just line chickens up in cages (one per cage) and you walk around... and look at them. I was wooed into doing this based on the idea that there wouldn't be much to look at. Oh but no. They were having a sale outside so the cankle and I wobbled around with Julie and looked at it all. Actually the chickens were all gorgeous - and there were even some big old badass gigantor chickens that will eat your children. Seriously. There were turkeys, rabbits, ducks, some chickens with floofy heads, rat terrier puppies... lots of things to look at at this chicken show thing.
On the way out Julie decided to buy a trio - two hens and a rooster. The dude she bought them from was stuffing them in a box when one of the hens made a jailbreak. She came flapping and squawking past my head and I might have let out a noise. So OK birds flapping and squawking past my head freak me out. This guy about 10 cars down on the other side of the path actually snatched her out of mid air! Julie went to retrieve the hen while the seller basically looked at me accusingly, like, why didn't I catch her? I mean, really, had he ever seen me trying to play softball he'd understand why not. The interesting thing, to me, was that when the hen was flying ALL of the other birds were *screaming*. It was like the silence of the lambs... except not. When the guy caught her it was like turning off the light switch.
I had fun, actually. Who would have known a chicken show could bring such excitement? However, my cankle was a bit unhappy by the time we left.
So we met Kelly out to work her sheep in a recently mowed (mowed? eh, whatever they do to make the corn go away) corn field. It was a beautiful place, and I'm always up for new places and new sheep to work my dogs on. Nick was his normal self - albeit there were a few exciting moments, and he got some good work in. Linc... Linc didn't have his listening ears on at first. It took me some time to get ahold of him, but after that he was working really nicely. It was a good experience in a new place - and I had a ball. Poor doughnut was terrorized though... she (he?) took a swim, and then decided to lay down on Linc. Linc didn't send her swimming though. Then... of course... both of my dogs managed to get into the pond that they weren't supposed to. Oopsie! Oh, and I almost forgot. I managed to more or less throw myself down some stairs and almost turned my ankle again. Duh.
Needless to say by the end of the day after walking around a chicken show and trudging around an uneven stubbly corn field my ankle was a very angry cankle. It's healing, but it's slow. The swelling had gone down before this past weekend, but I spent most of Sunday with it propped up. This of course gave me opportunity to watch lots of movies and just generally be a slug all day.
Now on to discussions of cankles, corn fields, and chicken shows. Ever been to a chicken show? Nope, neither have I. Julie had mentioned last week she was going down to work dogs with Kelly (something about a corn field) and did I want to go? All I had to do was show up with my dogs at her house, and oh yeah, stop by a chicken show with her. Sure, I'm a dog-working ho, I can do that. Bribery works for a reason.
I was having images in my head of chickens being paraded around a ring on a leash and collar. Imagine my dismay that they actually just line chickens up in cages (one per cage) and you walk around... and look at them. I was wooed into doing this based on the idea that there wouldn't be much to look at. Oh but no. They were having a sale outside so the cankle and I wobbled around with Julie and looked at it all. Actually the chickens were all gorgeous - and there were even some big old badass gigantor chickens that will eat your children. Seriously. There were turkeys, rabbits, ducks, some chickens with floofy heads, rat terrier puppies... lots of things to look at at this chicken show thing.
On the way out Julie decided to buy a trio - two hens and a rooster. The dude she bought them from was stuffing them in a box when one of the hens made a jailbreak. She came flapping and squawking past my head and I might have let out a noise. So OK birds flapping and squawking past my head freak me out. This guy about 10 cars down on the other side of the path actually snatched her out of mid air! Julie went to retrieve the hen while the seller basically looked at me accusingly, like, why didn't I catch her? I mean, really, had he ever seen me trying to play softball he'd understand why not. The interesting thing, to me, was that when the hen was flying ALL of the other birds were *screaming*. It was like the silence of the lambs... except not. When the guy caught her it was like turning off the light switch.
I had fun, actually. Who would have known a chicken show could bring such excitement? However, my cankle was a bit unhappy by the time we left.
So we met Kelly out to work her sheep in a recently mowed (mowed? eh, whatever they do to make the corn go away) corn field. It was a beautiful place, and I'm always up for new places and new sheep to work my dogs on. Nick was his normal self - albeit there were a few exciting moments, and he got some good work in. Linc... Linc didn't have his listening ears on at first. It took me some time to get ahold of him, but after that he was working really nicely. It was a good experience in a new place - and I had a ball. Poor doughnut was terrorized though... she (he?) took a swim, and then decided to lay down on Linc. Linc didn't send her swimming though. Then... of course... both of my dogs managed to get into the pond that they weren't supposed to. Oopsie! Oh, and I almost forgot. I managed to more or less throw myself down some stairs and almost turned my ankle again. Duh.
Needless to say by the end of the day after walking around a chicken show and trudging around an uneven stubbly corn field my ankle was a very angry cankle. It's healing, but it's slow. The swelling had gone down before this past weekend, but I spent most of Sunday with it propped up. This of course gave me opportunity to watch lots of movies and just generally be a slug all day.
Nothing like a shot of those big ole bat ears fully unfurled to make a girl feel better.
There's a lot of stuff going on in my life that I can't talk about yet, but could really use some prayers or good vibes, or whatever. I've not sent in any trial entries for the next few months - so for the moment I'm just holding what I've got.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
She Falls Softly
I think maybe the title to this should probably be "she falls like a ton of bricks and makes the ground shake" but that's a lot longer and not nearly as kind to my poor self-esteem. For some reason or another here lately I've had a string of stupid falls resulting in either humiliation or pain, but mostly just pain.
A few weeks ago I opened my front door into my face. I was seriously opening the HECK out of the door. I was bringing in the groceries, and somehow managed to crack the storm-door right into my face - managing to crank it right into my nose and left eye. I fell into the house, and laid on the floor for a while moaning. I actually almost passed out, but not quite. I couldn't stay long though as I had brought home dinner also, and didn't want it to get cold. Sandy wanted to know if I'd concussed myself. Probably.
Later that night I had taken off my glasses (I wear contacts during the day and glasses at night) and was rubbing my swollen nose. I was walking back from the garbage cans in the dark, with my glasses off, and somehow I managed to fall over a bush. This would be the same bush that I've walked around almost every day for the last seven years. Anyway, I landed sort of tee peed over the bush with my behind in the air... butt crack all flashing for anyone with night goggles to see as my shirt was part-ways over my head and I was wearing low rise jeans (which are only made for skinny teenaged girls wearing cute thongs and sporting tattoos of butterflies over their cracks - none of which applies to me). I was face down with my face inches from my concrete stoop. I thought, "I sure hope nobody is watching tonight". That didn't hurt but I sure did feel stupid.
Then this past weekend at the trial I managed to fall out of Robin's camper. Twice. That's right. Normal people would maybe fall out once, but oh no. Twice. The first time I didn't hurt myself, I only felt stupid. The second time I had puppies in my arms and it was like puppy popcorn. I turned over my ankle - and it is still swollen up now. In fact... I have a cankle. That's when you can't tell your calf from your ankle. I don't think it's broken, and I know this because of my surperior armchair doctoring skills. Oh yeah, I'll probably be banned from the campers of all triallers... destined to only stand on the ground and look in longingly. After all, who wants a chick falling out of their camper on a regular basis?
In response to my own personal stupidity and misery I ate two pieces of cake yesterday. After tonight with Pam I will have indulged in bacon cheese fry debauchery multiple times this week. I have upped my quota of F Bombs for the week. If F Bombs were gas I could drive for a month without having to fill up. I've had orange fire shoot out of my eye sockets more than once in the last week, and watched four episodes of Grey's Anatomy back to back last night. I road-raged two different people on my three mile drive home from work yesterday.
I think a donut would make me feel better. Eh, make that a dozen donuts spread out over two days. That, and not hurting myself for a few weeks. Yes, I'd like a hiatus from stupid accidents until at least December. I don't think that's asking too much.
A few weeks ago I opened my front door into my face. I was seriously opening the HECK out of the door. I was bringing in the groceries, and somehow managed to crack the storm-door right into my face - managing to crank it right into my nose and left eye. I fell into the house, and laid on the floor for a while moaning. I actually almost passed out, but not quite. I couldn't stay long though as I had brought home dinner also, and didn't want it to get cold. Sandy wanted to know if I'd concussed myself. Probably.
Later that night I had taken off my glasses (I wear contacts during the day and glasses at night) and was rubbing my swollen nose. I was walking back from the garbage cans in the dark, with my glasses off, and somehow I managed to fall over a bush. This would be the same bush that I've walked around almost every day for the last seven years. Anyway, I landed sort of tee peed over the bush with my behind in the air... butt crack all flashing for anyone with night goggles to see as my shirt was part-ways over my head and I was wearing low rise jeans (which are only made for skinny teenaged girls wearing cute thongs and sporting tattoos of butterflies over their cracks - none of which applies to me). I was face down with my face inches from my concrete stoop. I thought, "I sure hope nobody is watching tonight". That didn't hurt but I sure did feel stupid.
Then this past weekend at the trial I managed to fall out of Robin's camper. Twice. That's right. Normal people would maybe fall out once, but oh no. Twice. The first time I didn't hurt myself, I only felt stupid. The second time I had puppies in my arms and it was like puppy popcorn. I turned over my ankle - and it is still swollen up now. In fact... I have a cankle. That's when you can't tell your calf from your ankle. I don't think it's broken, and I know this because of my surperior armchair doctoring skills. Oh yeah, I'll probably be banned from the campers of all triallers... destined to only stand on the ground and look in longingly. After all, who wants a chick falling out of their camper on a regular basis?
In response to my own personal stupidity and misery I ate two pieces of cake yesterday. After tonight with Pam I will have indulged in bacon cheese fry debauchery multiple times this week. I have upped my quota of F Bombs for the week. If F Bombs were gas I could drive for a month without having to fill up. I've had orange fire shoot out of my eye sockets more than once in the last week, and watched four episodes of Grey's Anatomy back to back last night. I road-raged two different people on my three mile drive home from work yesterday.
I think a donut would make me feel better. Eh, make that a dozen donuts spread out over two days. That, and not hurting myself for a few weeks. Yes, I'd like a hiatus from stupid accidents until at least December. I don't think that's asking too much.
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