Sunday, December 31, 2017
If you've been here a while, you know Pat and Ann. They help people and rescue dogs. The former is their nature; the latter came their way their first winter in Wisconsin, twenty years ago. Pat realized half a dozen huskies kenneled behind a barn he passed going to work actually were abandoned, no humans left.
A veterinary friend helped him free the dogs and move them to a kennel erected at Pat and Ann's old farm. The huskies had several more good years, though never socialized. The last year they presented their saviors a litter of pups, one of whom survived. Fluke became a house dog, and has been gone only a few years now.
All the dogs in the house learn their place in the pack. Some go to the outdoor kennel, which has become an eight pack unit with insulated dog houses and heated water bowls. Let's just say they failed at living in the house, though some Malmutes, huskies and Samoyeds only came in to say hello and gratefully return to Wisconsin winters outdoors.
Probably my best group portrait of some house residents. Back left, Shotzy, back right, Chica. Front left, Sawyer, front right, Freija. Shotz and Chica are border collie mix. Sawyer is a shaved to the scalp golden, Freija is a husky mix.
For the last ten years Pat and Ann own a commercial kennel and grooming business. Shotz was boarded there, and abandoned by her owner. Freija was found along a road several years ago, injured and pregnant. She was rescued by the ASPCA, but failed several adoption attempts. Saved by Pat and Ann.
Sawyer is a golden retriever with textbook ADHAD to an elevated degree. He has flunked out of three aide dog schools. According to Pat, he is brilliant and unfocused. The last school that sent him back was Cadaver Dog school. He could find them, call for assistance, then leave to chase a butterfly.
Chica is an ASPCA reject. Pat and Ann occasionally fostered for them. Chica was returned from her adoptions. Ann says "she's a border collie; what do they expect?" Of course she herds anything that moves.
Here we have Henry, Sawyer and Freija. Henry is a full bore Springer. Another "what did they expect?" story. An old couple owned a Springer from their younger days. He grew old and sedentary; they thought they'd get him a companion. They forgot their old guy was strong and on the go in his younger days. They couldn't handle the new pup. Henry is probably five or six now, and I make sure I am fastened to something when he comes by.
Here are Chica, who you're already met, and Shikera, a Yorkipoo. She's likable, but I've never grasped the attraction. Shikera also was not reclaimed from boarding. All these dogs are in constant re-training, through no fault of their own. In the picture with Henry, Pat is giving a hand signal to one or the other of the dogs.
The dogs earn their place in the home and the pack through good behavior. It is their misfortune the original owners acquired them for the wrong reason. It is their great good fortune Pat and Ann will see them through to the end, or find them a suitable adoptive family.
Pat and Ann used to say to the dogs, five hundred dollars and you're gone. Do you remember the beautiful silver husky, maybe five years ago? He had osteoarthritis at a young age, broke a hind leg that did not knit well. Eventually it was amputated. Pat or Ann helped him up and down the steps for another year or two. The ledger pages apparently disintegrate at five hundred dollars.
If you take in an animal, the responsibility is until death do you part.
Shikera spent the week with Laura, on the sofa, while Laura and Pat watched (or re-watched) Pat's extensive collection of everything cinema.
Miscellaneous left over dog pictures. I never had a head on opportunity with Henry; always in motion unless commanded to sit. I never got in front of him. He is fifty pounds of muscle and steel, waiting to be sent on a job.
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Cutting, pinning, ironing, sewing. That's all it takes. This will go to Jan this week, for quilting on Friday.
I sewed all the long rows to their lavender headers and footers. Laura pinned and sewed all the rest. I ironed a lot, and that's really tiring. Last picture is Kay, folding the fabric that will be the back of the quilt.
So, who sees the one block that is a sewing mistake in the first picture. I saw it as soon as I looked at the picture, and went to tell Laura. But, she had already spotted and fixed it.
Saturday, December 16, 2017
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
The phone rang at 8 a.m., when I am barely considering being up. The kid was sick, and number nine to be sent home, before first bell. When I picked her up, she was wearing those stupid leggins. Possibly the fleece lined pair, otherwise, they're thin. A summer tee. The plaid blanket she received for her birthday. No coat. Less than twenty degrees out. Apparently delirious when she left, but was reprimanded for thin thinking, nevertheless.
Laura went back to bed until supper time, and so did I. In case I was catching something. After supper, Kay came over and, in her inimitable way, made my day.
She wants to make a quilt for her mother for Christmas. Math equals 25-12=13 days, if she gets up early to wrap it. Or, a day on the plane to Texas. Whatever. She thinks she and Laura can construct and quilt it in two evenings and one weekend. She might as well be a daughter of mine!
Today I started putting together the pinwheels. I'm not strong enough to rotary cut them, but I can sew them this far and then work on the cut pieces.
It is snowing something fierce, too. I have to get Laura after school to stop at her sponsor's house (academic year abroad) to get her paperwork signed. No, my steps are not shoveled, my car not cleared. I think I'll start at 2 to leave by 2:30. I need to engage a snow shoveler.
12:30. I have ninety minutes to sew some more blocks.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Our neighbor Cathy recognized my distress, and offered to organize it. Back when my girls were in school, every birthday was celebrated at a restaurant of their choice with friends of their choice. They thought it was really cool, and you know what this teen-age inept mother thought.
This is what Cathy did. But, wait, it gets better. And, keep an eye on the helium balloons that go missing.
The party. Edibles were East of Chicago pizza, which we highly recommend. It's almost as good as Laura's homemade. And, root beer and cherry coke. And, thank God, water. And, Laura's fab cheese cake. Gone, gone, gone. No pictures.
We (the young women) saw Coco in one theater, and the organizer and her grateful neighbor saw The Orient Express in the theater next door.
Orient ended fifteen or so minutes before Coco, and Cathy and I stood in the lobby looking for a current picture of Kenneth Branaugh. Well, Cathy was all over her phone; I was amused. He did come up looking OK, though.
Then, Coco began exiting. First, a hall of adults, moving quickly and looking backward, followed by such howling and wailing. Literally, a sound chamber of banshees. The Coco adults were gone before our six teens arrived, some supporting others.
Laura, Lexie and Meredith were holding up Anneka, Annie and Kayla, the howlers. That was so SAD, the three wailed in unison. Cathy and I had splitting sides and sore ribs, both from holding it in and losing our composure.
It was dark and it was snowing, and it was time to get back, so three teens with composure and two adults with some composure, herded the three sad-o's to our cars. I had Meredith, Anneka and Annie. Before the door was shut, Anneka swooped up the balloons from the floor. "They're still here," triumphant and recovered.
"How will you get a hole in it?" Annie's little voice. "Just like that!" Alvin's chipmunk voice rejoined. "Oh, My, God," pass it to me. Don't let any out. Three chipmunks travelling home. Grandma (Jo by now) in the front seat, ribs aching, eyes streaming, Bob Dylan, Everybody Must Get Stoned...
Say ON-A-Kuh. It makes the story even better.
Saturday, December 9, 2017
My Uncle, Henry Rolf. One of the few World War II pictures I have. Uncle Hank was Transportation Corps, and moved supplies in convoys, over the mountains. I think he posed this picture for his family, back home. This was in France.
You know, I'm thinking this was still stateside. Those boots are too new.
Friday, December 8, 2017
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Monday, December 4, 2017
Sunday, December 3, 2017
The phone needs replaced, and sooner rather than later. Saturday was the day. I had her research what she wanted. I relinquished my card first to buy out the remainder of her phone. That hurt. The young man came from the stock room with her heart’s desire. Oh, yes, and mine, too, as my old phone is out of contract, and I figured I might as well upgrade to a MotoZ. Oh, yes, and the Hasselblad, too.
Today was interview day. I’d told Laura she should be thinking of everything she might be asked and how she would answer it. The couple of times I checked in, she seemed quite prepared.