Yesterday, someone asked me what we were doing for Valentine’s Day. My response:

“We’re going to go stand in a muddy field in the rain so Scott can watch me take dead birds out of my dog’s mouth. You?”

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After the classroom experience on Tuesday, I am now in the market for a 10-13 year old child. Must be literate and interested in learning about new things. If anybody hears of one on the market for a reasonable asking price, please let me know. I just don’t want to make my own from scratch.

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To pick up nowhere near where I left off…

Back in December, I made a rash commitment to give a presentation (otherwise known as the Dog and Braille Show) to a class of Junior High students. It’s next week.

I knew not what I did. Their teacher recruited me when I was innocently sitting in the park. At the time, the date seemed a long time in the future and hence not worrisome. Now, with it looming, I’m wondering what on Earth to do with a classroom full of Junior High kids.


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Here it is two weeks later and I’m reporting in. But these days, that’s about my operating speed. Oh, well.

We spent the weekend of June 27-29 in San Diego for a wedding and then a couple of days of R&R, returning on Sunday evening. As well as the wedding, the weekend encompassed brunch (which impressively occurred at 8:30am—less unch than br, in my book) with the happy couple and the rest of the out-of-towners the morning after the wedding, a trip to the Zoo, the beach at sunset, a couple of dips in the hotel pool and a leisurely soak in the hot tub, some wandering around Old town San Diego, lunch with wonderful, fresh tortillas and my second experience of what I declare to be the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.

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There is a woodpecker nest in one of our dead walnut trees. There was a nest there one of the first years we had the house (one of our reasons for keeping the dead trees, along with the fact that they make great posts from which to suspend a hammock and that it costs an arm and a leg to have mature dead trees removed) but I don’t think there’s been a nest there for several years.

We have a lot of woodpeckers around, in part because the giant Valley Oak in our yard is a granary tree where birds and squirrels store their winter caches of treasure. There was one –or several, who knows—who used to sit and peck futily on the gutter drainpipe. You’d think it would have noticed its efforts were ineffective, but it kept it up and came back for more. Presumably, this is not the woodpecker who’s reproduced in our dead walnut tree.

I heard a woodpecker over there pecking on the tree the other day, and today, Scott spotted an adult hanging around a hole in the trunk. A little while ago, I heard this amazing little sound—a tiny, high-pitched Woody Woodpecker chuckle. It was like Woody on helium.

Scott has spotted a little mouth just inside the hole. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a good telephoto lens for the camera, so no detailed pictures.

Update by Scott:
I've uploaded the best two shots I took on Flickr. I think they turned out ok despite extreme cropping.

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Now that's cross-genre.


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How flattering! And what skillful salesmanship.

'
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Oh, man... I've been the victim of a scam? Better reply to this quick.


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Well, that's OK, then...


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Not sure what it is, but it could be fun at the right parties.


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Nope. "Triple bagger"? Can't go there.


Mr.David J Bennett Cf: My Humbly Request 12/20/2007 14 KB

Already humble enough, thanks.


reversion metaphor de fend 11:43 AM 28 KB

Analogy, counter-argument...



Kennith Fish you can have a 7-inches longPenis, how to archive? read more here iqpw6lfxfftf24mry7q 6:28 PM 6 KB

Not only can I have a penis, but I can archive it?


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An offer you can't refuse!
Cthulhu needs you to work from home!


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Do you trust the Bat Department, or should you use Detect Magic??


kod@satyam.com Make a giant out of your dwarv! Sun 9:19 AM 10 KB

Is that in Ver. 4.0?



Cathryn Samuel wombat 2:05 PM 12 KB

They bite, you know.

Today, I miss the ocean.

What I’m less sure about is whether missing the ocean means wanting to be near the beach, breathing in salty, ozone-washed air, splashing in the waves or listening to them wash and crash on the shore or if, today, it’s something a lot more primal than that: longing to return to the sea; to submerge, shedding feet for fins and lungs for gills.

I’ll let you know if I figure it out.

You know how you always think of just exactly the right thing to say after it’s way too late to say it -- usually long after the fact? Well, *I* usually miss the opportunities for smart come-backs, anyway. There’s a lot of time to think up these things later while I’m walking home down El Camino or on buses or trains, though.

But every so often, my mouth falls open and something comes out which takes me by surprise.

This morning, I was at the vet’s office to get Justin’s nails trimmed. It was absolutely bucketing rain outside at the time. Justin and I were both soaked.

The following conversation ensued:

Receptionist: “You’re not walking, are you??”
Me: “Uh, yes. It’s how I get places.”
Receptionist: “But it’s pouring out there!”
Me: “Yeah, but I don’t have a lot of options.”
Receptionist: “Is your husband at work?”

I opened my mouth with the intention of simply saying “Yes, he is.” What I heard myself saying, instead, was:

“Yes, well, he tried quitting so he could chauffer me around, but we got tired of foraging for nuts and berries and road kill just isn’t what it used to be.”

There was a long silence. Then she said “Oh, I see…”
. I *think* she got the point. Either way, I felt quite self-satisfied. It was one of those rare moments when the words happen to come out the way they would if I planned what I was about to say. What I wouldn’t give for more of those. I doubt it would much improve my ability to communicate, but at least I’d keep myself amused while I suffered the inanity.

On Tuesday evening, I did this totally amazing thing; something I’ve done only once before in my life. I exercised my right to vote by secret ballot-- Yep. That cornerstone of modern democracy-- taken for granted by most (property-owning) men (and later women) in this country since 1892 (with the exception of wierd practices like caucuses.) Heck, Ugandans voted by secret ballot 13 years before I could.

Most people in America take this so much for granted that they’ve probably never given it a second thought. While they may have thought long and hard about the efficacy of electronic voting, discussed the issue of voter fraud, pondered the concept of free and fair elections and joked about hanging chads, I imagine few have ever doubted that they would be able to cast a ballot without having, by necessity, to reveal their choices to total strangers and trust said strangers to complete the ballot according to their wishes. That idea would appall most voters in tiny, developing nations. But I and millions of other blind and disabled Americans have had to do exactly that until very recently.

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I wish I could stop coughing. I’ve been sick for a week. Last week, I was much worse—I ran a fever from Wednesday through Saturday and a couple of those days I couldn’t even pry myself out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time. Going as far as the bathroom was exhausting. Thank goodness, no gastro-intestinal involvement, but even so it’s about the sickest I’ve been while unhospitalized in many a year. I don’t think I’ve cancelled client appointments for anything short of hospitalization except once for a migraine. I cancelled appointments three days last week.

Sigh, groan, bitch whine.

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Oops. Must go. The Beagle has landed.

There is a form for everything. There is a three-page form I must submit in order to get other people to agree that my dog is a Golden Retriever. (You should see the one to claim that the sky is blue.)

I was just by the vet’s to pick up the last of the pieces of paper I need in order to send off the forms to the AKC ( American Kennel Club ) to get a registration number for Justin. We need a number in order for me to enter him into our first obedience trials in February.

He will be registered under the AKC’s “Indefinite Listing Privilege” (ILP) program; the mechanism provided so dogs of AKC-registerible breeds without “papers” can enter competition and performance events such as agility and obedience trials and hunt tests. The dogs must be neutered and are, of course, not eligible to show in the conformation ring.

You fill out a form with all the dog’s vital stats, where you got the dog and why you believe it to be of the breed you specify. You accompany the form with two photos, front and side views and a piece of paper from the vet which verifies that your dog is no longer possessed of reproductive organs. Then (for a modest fee, of course) they will look and say “Yep. Looks like a Golden Retriever (or whatever breed you claim the dog to be) to us” and give you a number to use on entry forms for AKC-sponsored events.

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I clearly remember being 7 or so and trying to calculate whether or not I’d still be alive in the year 2000. I decided that I probably would.

Oddly, while 2008 still doesn’t sound so much like a date as a model number, I’m finding it a lot easier to accept that it’s 2008 than to accept that it’s January. You’d think the lousy weather would be persuasive, but it just doesn’t feel like January. There wasn’t enough 2007 to fill up the time between last January and now.

We had a very congenial celebration with Mona, William, Rick and Martha... only we toasted the new year on Central Time and were safely home by 10:45. Quite efficient, and just as fun, really.

I was thinking earlier today that the whole New Year’s Eve thing just loses its magical properties after you’ve done it 30 or 40 times. It was really cool back when I thought January 1 was somehow different than December 31. Now that I think of the one as Monday and the next as Tuesday, well, it just doesn’t pack the same punch.

I was a little surprised and more than a little amused to hear a similar sentiment from the 20-something checkout guy at Best Buy this afternoon, however. It didn’t sound like he was going to have a particularly exciting evening, and he sounded equally nonplussed by the prospect.

We were there to buy a replacement stereo tuner since ours died a quiet death at home surrounded by its family shortly before Christmas. I commented that we’d probably spend the evening putting together the sound system and he said that yes, maybe we could watch a movie to celebrate. Maybe there’s hope for America, yet. But when you start out a little jaded and cheerfully cynical, where do you go from there?

It’s not that I don’t hope for a great year this year or that I don’t wish everyone I know a happy, healthy and successful twelve months. I most certainly do. (Happy New Year, everyone!)

I think it’s just that “2008” doesn’t even sound like a year. R…

AliMed eNews Buy a Case of Electrodes, Get a Case! 10:18 AM 44 KB

That should suffice for all my electrode needs!
Muuhahaa! It lives! It lives, Igor! It lives!


MIKE PAUL URGENT IS NEDEED IF YOUR NOT dead Sun 11:37 PM 9 KB

And if I am?


sphering wrongness mulierosity Wed 11/7 10 KB

I think Justin exhibits some mulierosity from time to time. Then, again, so do I.


TeamWork Newsletter How to handle negative vibes at work Tue 10:06 PM 15 KB

Like dude, just go with the flow-- all professional-like, y'know.

Francisco C. Stewart Stick to your date Tue 6:51 PM 12 KB

Eww. Last time that happened...


Antoine daimler how many d[grees do you have? need another one?JECT Sun 6:45 PM 7 KB

Wow-- appealing not to the college drop-outs, but the PhDs and MAs... that's bold marketing!


Lois Blount You shall let it dwell darkly. 12:41 AM 5 KB

Poetry.


Olivia Tidwell pretend cloture squeak 3:14 AM 11 KB

this sounds like a very strange game. Or perhaps a British breakfast object.


And my favorite for this time:

Part B Mythbuster Easy Steps Toward Better Office Hygiene Thu 11/15 22 KB

Uh... Yeah. Speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Puzzle has taken to napping in Justin’s crate. He usually hangs out in the top of the cat tree (nice and safe from Spaniels). He hates his own cat carrier, of course.

But Justin is racked out on our bed and Puzzle is contentedly curled up in his crate.

Go figure.

Someone asked my mother what she was going to do for Thanksgiving. Her reply:

"I'm going to eat my Hungry Man(tm) turkey dinner and talk to my dog."


Thing is, I'm not sure if I'm horrified or amused.

Friday evening, I blatantly violated three of the fundamental tenets of guide dog handling and was duly punished for my sins.

These three things were drilled into me, as they have been drilled, pounded and otherwise firmly instilled into just about every dog guide handler out there for the past seventy-odd years.

1. Trust your dog
2. Never step in front of your dog—not ever.
3. Do not hurry your dog in the street.

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This week, I'm in San Antonio at the International Working dog Breeding Association (IWDBA) conference. This is the same conference last held in Melbourne in 2005. It was a lot easier to get to San Antonio, but, well, when I got here, I was in Texas.

So far the conference is interesting, as anticipated. While the focus of the organization is breeding, the goal of everyone here is to produce the best possible working dogs, so the subjects discussed tend to stray into kennel management, puppy development and the like in addition to straight-up genetics. Even the genetics is interesting, though, as they discuss the heritability of different traits including temperament, which is really rather fascinating.

My goal here is to further my efforts to set up a study to determine whether and how much of a positive role massage may play in enhancing the canine learning process in a working dog training program. This is something I’ve been tossing around for a while now, and I’m really hoping to get a proposal in to a couple of organizations in the next few months.

It’s been a little frustrating as I still have to corner a couple of people I really need to talk to in order to get info I need to design the study. I’ve had mild interest in seeing a proposal from a couple of people (prior to this conference) but I really need to sit down with one or two people and hash out some of the questions I have about the way things are done at the programs in question before I can properly establish methodology, select sample size, and even look at the feasibility of the logistics of the project in the first place. Everyone is awfully busy networking, though, and without being able to spot people across the room and corner them, it can be really tricky to get anybody’s attention when they have a moment free. But I’ve got three days left, and haven’t given up hope, yet.

Tomorrow is filled with more presentations and the conference banquet. Wednesday is “tour day.” We’ll be going out to tour the kennels and training facility the TSA operates here. Then we will all go to Sea World, where we will have a “backstage” tour. Only this is no ordinary backstage tour. Oh, no.

Most people on a backstage tour at Sea World might expect to pet dolphins, watch penguins being trained to walk backward or observe the hunting behavior of sharks.

Ah, but the “B” in IWDBA stands for “Breeding,” remember? So we will be attending a special presentation on… wait for it…




Artificial insemination of Beluga whales.

Just try and tell me you’re not jealous, now.

Since I seem to prefer to make embarrassing confessions in writing where half the people I know (and anybody I don’t) can read them, here goes. this is excruciatingly embarrassing; more embarrassing than keeping a blog, even.

For the last week I’ve been spending time here and there doing something I never, ever thought I’d do; something immature which I normally scoff at and associate with unimaginative teenage geeks… dweebs, even with no lives and remarkably little talent.

What is this horrendously humiliating, nerdly behavior?

I’ve been writing fan fiction.

There. I said it.

Oh, gods preserve me from the humiliation. I never thought I’d stoop this low; I really didn’t.

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Dmitri Beno Then silence returned to the stone arena and the crickets started on the next verse of their interminable, unchanging song. 5:30 AM 13 KB

This is why I read my Spam folder: for the literary content.

Due Maternity Maternity Skin Care Savings Fri 8/17 8 KB From Subject Received Size
What are we saving it for or from?

ha Philopoulos cerebror Thu 8:19 PM 11 KB

What can I possibly add to that?


Dr Ab Garlick BEST REGARDS Mon 2:49 PM 15 KB

Hate to see this guy's spice cabinet- Uregino, Cinmen, Numbegg?


god is good all the time ) Contact global Express Courier & Security Company Now. Fri 8/31 57 KB

Non-sequetor, or what?


Another religious experience:
rebecca williams Apostolic Greetings. Thu 11:10 AM 13 KB


SENATE HOUSE ATTN: Beneficiary /OFFICE OF THE SENATE HOUSE 1:31 PM 16 KB
Missed Civics class, I guess.


I think this one is the first time I've ever seen a spammer tell the truth:

Dennis R. Davis Not for oversmart people 11:49 AM 12 KB