The Boys

For years I've loved dogs. Most importantly I've loved Golden Retrievers.  There's something about Goldens that just sets my heart to pitter pat.  They're beautiful dogs to me. 

I drove all the way to Bellingham to meet two new Goldens - oh and to see my friends Paul and Suzanna - but don't tell them, I really went up to see the boys.

Meet Oggy and Rowen

Now which one's which? Um the one on the left is Rowan. Now wait, that's Oggy. Rowan has a scar on his now so the one on the right is Rowan. Or is that Oggy.  Gah! All I know is there's a plastic bone sitting between them.

These two boys were delightful. They're about 18 months and still very much puppy.

When I arrived at the boys house on Friday evening, Oggy was being grounded. Apparently he decided that while he was left in this beautiful house all day he'd chew up the wall.

Yes, you read that correctly, he chewed up the wall.  Paul and Suzanna were furious with him and scolded him to no end. All night Paul kept telling Oggy he was going to the pound in the morning.  We knew he'd never do that to sweet Oggy.  It is a good thing they're so darn cute though, or he may have.  Meanwhile Rowan just sat with his gorgeous innocent looking face.

This morning I was nursing a wee hang-over when Paul took the dogs out back for the morning, um, "meditation" well say.

He came back in shaking his head and said, "I'll be damned." I pressed for more information than an "I'll be damned."  Turns out poop does not lie.  ROWAN had paint chips and wood in his - um - meditation materials.  Paul just shook his head and laughed at how he chastised poor Oggy over night and it turns out Rowan was the chewer.  Although Oggy wasn't completely innocent since there were paint chips in his mouth when they discovered their new all decor.

Oh and Oggy thinks he's a lap dog.  I sat on the couch and within seconds he was sitting on my lap and almost asleep.  I melted and wanted to smuggle him out of the house and into the waiting car outside.

These two boys are certainly a handful, but such beautiful and good dogs.  They fight and play with each other all ... the... time...so darn cute.

And as I was leaving, both of them stared out the window begging me to take them.  If only Pookie would understand, and if only they didn't shed so much, and if only I would have let them ride in Sparky.

85 to 65 in 24 hours

I've been told I am not allowed to complain about Seattle's "cool" weather considering how half the nation is boiling. 

However, being from Seattle, I'm going to at least comment that it baffles the mind that we've yet to see a summer that lasts longer than two days.  Yesterday Sparky's thermometer read 85 around 5pm.  Today, at about 7:30am it read 62.  And we have thunder! Crazy Seattle weather. Of which I wouldn't trade anything for it. 

They say nothings more beautiful than Seattle on a sunny day.

Its possible that it's true.

Let's see, what's happened since the last blog entry.

The DadUnit is still in the hospital and is not doing overly well. We had problems with his blood sugar crashing last week, concerns his blood pressure was too low and he's  not eating that much.  The MomUnit, understandably, is concerned. She put the call out to us kids and is allowing us to make the decision is we want to come see the DadUnit or not.  She's concerned about crying wolf that these may be his final days, but she'd hate herself if she didn't. I think she made the right call. Even if the DadUnit lives for another 10 years, I see nothing wrong with his kids spending more time with him.

I leave for Tucson Aug 4.

Yesterday was the monthly PhotoGods outing. I chose Seattle skyline at sunset as this months theme.  I learned I'm not patient when it comes to the sun going down.  But when it goes down in Seattle, it does take it's time.

This week will be full of a whole lot of lunch dates, coffee dates, and a trip to Bellingham to end the week.  Yesterday was half way through this 100 day break. Can you believe it? I'm on the downward slope back to work.

Ho - SPIT - Al

When I was in the 4th grade, I couldn't spell "hospital" for the life of me.  My reading/writing teacher, Mrs. Butts (Yes her  name was Mrs. Butts.  As 4th graders, with 4th grade humor we found her name amusing to say the least. Even more amusing to us was when we discovered our other teacher's name, Mr. Holstein, really mean cow) used to work with me on spelling hospital.  It wasn't like it was the only word I had issues with, it was just one that stuck in my mind.  Kinda like bad 80's songs, but I digress.

Mrs. Butts broke the word out for me:

Ho

Spit

Al

And since my dad's name is "Al" it did the trick.  So even to this day when I spell "hospital" I say, "HO - SPIT - AL".  Its a dark, winding maze in my brain.

The DadUnit is in the ho-spit-al again.  His back has really been bothering him, and he's been in significant pain.  Finally today he couldn't get out of bed, and the MomUnit(with her back problems) couldn't get him out of bed.

The MomUnit dialed 911 and her favorite firemen came to her rescue again.

After an X-ray and then an MRI it was determined that the DadUnit's L3 vertebrae is fractured. The doc says he really couldn't say what caused the fracture, but made an educated guess that brittle bones and a tired joint is what did the fracturing.

I called the MomUnit tonight to see how she was. She sounded exhausted. And no big surprise, but she is.  They just got back from a driving trip to Washington and then Montana. The MomUnit doing all the driving of their huge truck and 5th wheel, as well as taking care of the DadUnit and his 2YO tantrums.  She has a right to be exhausted. I'm tired just thinking about it.

I love my dad. I do. But him being in the ho-spit-al is, in a way, a blessing for the MomUnit.  While she hates to see her husband in pain and in a sterile room, she won't have to care for him 24X7 while he's being cared for by experts.  She won't have to get up 3 times a night to help him to the bathroom. She won't have to worry nonstop that he may fall getting out of the chair to go get a glass of water. 

She worries about him, and I worry about her.  In a weird way, the ho-spit-al will be a vacation for mom. And she deserves it.  The DadUnit will recover, though we don't know for sure if that recovery includes a surgery or not, but either way, he'll have to stay until he's better. 

Sweet Sixteen

That's right! PookieSnackenBurger is Sweet Sixteen.

My wittle puddy tat turned 16 today. He got a little tuna a a tweat this morning too. He's a wittle spoiled. I thought for his birthday I'd outline some of personality, we'll call them "quirks".

He was such a sweet little kitten when I brought him home.  He had this ring around his neck of grey hair, that disappeared rather quickly.  Now he's mostly black. In the right sun he has a dark, chocolate color to his fur.  As a kitten he was COVERED in fleas when I brought him home. Blueberry and I sat and picked off 30+ fleas off this little kittens body.  Shortly after he got a flea dip at the V-E-T. Then after that I found this mouse stuff that you work into their fur to help kill the eggs. To this day if you even reach for a bottle of anything that looks like mousse he's gone.

He's very mouthy too. He talks like its no body's business.  He and I have great conversations daily.  I swear he knows the answer to world peace, but since I don't speak cat I can't translate.  He wasn't always mouthy.  After we moved into an apartment on our own with no other cats, then he suddenly found his voice. And there's no mute button.

He likes to "help" me too. Whenever I'm in the office working on whatever, he has to sit on the desk between me and the keyboard.  Oddly enough as I type that sentence he isn't in here. He must be taking one of his MANY naps of today.

He's always been a very clean kitty.  If he's not mouthing off, or running from the mousse can, or "helping" me, or napping, or eating, then he's likely taking a bath.  He has a bad habit of needing to take a bath at night now as he lays next to me in bed. Argh. 

At the end of the day, I love all his quirks. Every single on of them. He's given me many hours of laughter at his "issues" and his "looks" he gives me.  He's gone by many names too.  DJ, Pookie, Poop-N-Snack, Snacken-Poop, Big Blast Beast of Burden, El Gatito Bonito, El Gatito Gordo - and most recently Bubba.

Happy Birthday Pookie!

biddi-biddi-biddi

In May 1987, Captain William Anthony "Buck" Rogers, a NASA pilot who commands Ranger 3, launched a space shuttle.  The story goes on to say that due to a life support malfunction, he's suspended in space for 504 years. He's later awaken to find Earth in the year 2481. 

Oh Buck Rogers, how I loved that show.  It ran from 1979 - 1981, short lived, but it was the most extreme story telling my 10 year old mind had seen.

On March 8, 1979, we woke to another sunny day in southern California.  There was an electricity in the air though. Excitement could be felt as we sat and ate our breakfast cereal. 

At 6:30 Grandma Spaid grabbed the camera and said to me, "Let's go!" in a way only Grandma Spaid could. (God I miss her.) She grabbed he Polaroid camera - (which was all the rage in 1979. I mean photos that developed right in front of your eyes. So cool! So we thought.) We walked pass a house next to us and stood on the corner of J-3 and 10th Street East.

At 6:45 we saw this:

According to my grandmother's impeccable documentation on any photo, we saw this at 6:55:

Then at 7am, we stood and looked up in wonder at the sight that was before us.  I remember it being quiet and a whole lot of "ooo's" and "ahhhh's" going on.

Once it passed, we walked the short distance to our house.  We sat at the table and looked at the pictures and talked about how totally rad it was to see something so space agey in front of us.  We speculated on whether it'd actually make it to space. 

I don't remember how long after, this viewing, but I was in school.  We were all gathered in the cafeteria to witness it via television the landing of the Space Shuttle Discovery at Edward's AFB.  The principle was standing by the very small TV and he was saying, "Any minute we should hear the sonic boom."  He no sooner said "boom" and the cafeteria was rattled with a sonic boom so loud it scared the pee out of most of us.  Living by the AFB we were used to hearing sonic booms, but we weren't expecting that thunderous sound. 

As everyone knows, it landed safely and the Space Shuttle program went on to build several more. Some were lost to tragedy, but all of them helped to further our mission in space.  Buck Rogers would be proud!

Happy 4th of July

This morning instead of sleeping in I figured I'd get out in the sunshine and enjoy it a bit.  So Sparky, my camera and I headed out to go see the Vietnam War Traveling Dignity Wall.  I had gone there a couple of years ago - like 10 - and remember thinking how amazing, and sad, it was to see all those names of men and women who lost there lives to fight for freedom (though some would argue that the Vietnam war wasn't about any freedom for us.)

I took that photo of the little boy in 2001.  And today while I was there I was thinking, that child would be 10 years old today.  Weird how time flies.

See that blue sky? A strange sight on the 4th of July in Seattle.

I spent about 45 minutes there walking up and down the platform and reading as many names in each section as I could.  I thought about who they might have been and what their lives would have been like. And then I thought about what the lives of their loved ones had been like.  Sad, and unnecessary is all I could think.

This guy was standing in the spot when I got there and was standing in that spot when I left.  I so wanted to talk to him and ask him about his story, but I felt like I would be intruding on his "moment". 

As I sit here in the evening listening to the fireworks going off in the not so far distance I'm so thankful that so many men and women were, and are, brave enough to fight for my freedoms.  For my freedom to go and pay my respects for their ultimate sacrifice.

Sparky had to be part of the celebration too.  God I love that car!