Out of the Beehive

"We need to get out of the beehive and go back to the grove."

I saw that quote along with a plea for help finding the source to cite for it yesterday.  And I like it!  So of course, I followed the discussion that proceeded.  So far no source, but there are some intriguing thoughts in checking the leads that I want to explore a little deeper today into the symbolized industry of a beehive and contemplative peace of the Sacred Grove (or any grove of trees, really).  Getting ready for Church this morning I listened to a podcast from All In about living a more mindful LDS lifestyle.  Meditation and deeper mindfulness are things I'm trying to incorporate as I rebuild my life and, honestly, I haven't exactly figured out how to do either of them.  Yet.

This podcast took an interesting approach when the participants spoke about what can appear to be opposing commandments.  Yes, they are telling us to do different things but I think they might apply to different times in our lives, or maybe even different times during a single day, to provide us with a sense of balance.

"Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness;  For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. And inasmuch as men do good they shall in nowise lose their reward."  D&C 58:27-28

"Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God."  D&C 101:16

 Latter-day Saints often quote the phrase "anxiously engaged in a good cause" when speaking about the good things we do in the world:  missionary work, disaster relief, etc.  Indeed, our faith is a very active one.  We look at Jesus as our example of going about doing good.  We love the stories of His teaching and preaching and healing and blessing the people around him and strive to do the same ourselves.  But, I think, we tend to skip over the dozen-ish recorded times that he retreated from the crowds and busy-ness to be alone with Himself and pray... to be still and commune with His Father; to rest and be refreshed in quiet solitude.

If we are willing to look to Him to show us how to be busy, should we not also look to Him learn how to rest?

In the April 1967 Priesthood Session of General Conference, David O. McKay said, "I think we pay too little attention to the value of meditation, a principle of devotion. In our worship, there are two elements: One is spiritual communion arising from our own meditation; the other, instruction from others, particularly from those who have authority to guide and instruct us. Of the two, the more profitable introspectively is meditation."  Farther into the address, he continued, "Meditation is one of the most secret, most sacred doors through which we pass into the presence of the Lord."

That last sentence really caught my attention!

"Meditation is one of the most secret, most sacred doors through which we pass into the presence of the Lord."

Definitely, meditation is something I need to learn more about!

Thomas Wirthlin McConkie spoke to the power of meditation in an interview a couple of years ago.  He said his meditation practice had given him a greater understanding of and appreciation for the Atonement. The act of sitting perfectly still and purposefully quieting your mind will bring up hidden thoughts within you, most probably of what is painful in your life and it forces you to make friends with that pain and learn whatever it was supposed to teach you.  That takes away it's negative power and its sting.  And the process of doing it acquaints you with the Lord in a whole different way as it gives you a glimpse of how He sat in the depths of human suffering and that makes it a little more relatable.

I pondered on this idea especially during the opening hymn, Nearer My God to Thee, at Stake Conference this morning.  The third verse begins:

There let the way appear,

Steps unto heav’n;

All that thou sendest me,

In mercy giv’n;

Maybe meditation is a gift He's given us to process the horrible things that life throws at us and progress above the struggles.  Stake President, Tim Harrast, made an especially appropriate comment in his address.  He was talking about Matthew 11:28-30 as an invitation to join Him in doing His work... and His work is us!

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Reflections on a Sad and Lonely Man

** Names and identifying details have been changed to preserve the privacy of everyone involved. **

This is a cautionary tale of how to not live your life...

Last week the friend of a friend had a heart attack and died while he was in the midst of diabetes-related dialysis treatment.  Let's call the newly deceased John and our mutual friend Rachel.  Because John has very little family anywhere, and none within several hundred miles of where he lived, he'd asked Rachel to act on his behalf if he were ever too incapacitated to do it himself.  That was several years ago and until his sudden and unexpected death, she'd never been called on to make decisions of this import for him or anyone else.  And it's been hard!

She's had to negotiate to get the body released from the hospital, get the funeral home to cremate his body (his expressed wish) with only a weak promise of payment (no life insurance), cancel his apartment lease and utilities, and, today, clean out his few worldly belongings and put them in storage until his family can come and claim what they want.  Rachel told me John left behind one big basket of clothes and "they are dirty and not in good shape at all" so she's going to just throw them all away.  Later in our conversation, she added: "I think he had more socks than any other clothes."  Rachel listed a couch, love seat, bookcase, 4 end tables, a coffee table, 2 kitchen chairs, a folding table, a 3-drawer filing cabinet, an electric wheelchair, and a hospital bed as the rest of his possessions.  "That's it.  That's all he had in his life.  No papers.  No clutter.  No nothing."  For food, she said he had several packages of Ramen and a few Mom's Meals in the freezer.  (Mom's Meals are pre-packaged frozen meals delivered directly to elderly and disabled folks as one of the options they can choose from for community supports.)

On the one hand, I'm awestruck at the simplicity in which John survived.  Not having many possessions to care for is appealing in some ways.  At the same time, it makes me terribly sad that a life, any life, can be summed up this way.  And, yes, I am painfully aware of the implications it holds for me and the loneliness I often feel.

Rachel feels guilty for not being a better friend and spending more time with him and making sure he had food and nice things.  But John chose to let his disability isolate him.  He chose to keep his social circle very small.  And since the only picture I've ever seen has him glaring like he's about to snap the photo taker's head off... I can only surmise he spent a lot of time lonely and angry.  Loneliness can do that to you - you don't want people around you and at the same time resent them for not being there, for having lives of their own, for seeking happiness without you.  Loneliness can do a number on your emotional health that doesn't make sense unless you've personally experienced the depths of that dark sadness.

So my caution is this:  Take a moment to reflect on your life and how you want to be remembered.  Is a short list of temporal things in bad repair enough?  What legacy do you want to leave behind?

Bad Science

This has me irritated.  Maybe more than it should... I am really irritated that people still find the need to share as if this was gospel truth.  This article claiming that childhood vaccinations are the cause of not just autism, but pretty much every other horrible thing that can happen to your child, is based on bad science.  Really bad science, in my opinion.

Let me tell you why.

But first, if you are a parent it is YOUR responsibility to make decisions in your child's best interest.  You need to base those decisions on good information from both your pediatrician and your own research.  Be an informed consumer.  If you conclude that vaccines do more good than harm, then get your child vaccinated without guilt and second-guessing yourself.  If you decide to forgo them, that is also fully your right.  I AM NOT OFFERING MEDICAL ADVICE OR EVEN AN OPINION ABOUT WHAT YOU SHOULD CHOOSE TO DO.  That's up to you!  I am only explaining why I believe this article shouldn't be used to inform that choice and, hopefully, giving you some tools to spot bad science when you see it.

First, you're going to have to read the article for yourself. While you are, notice some things that should be red flags any time you are reading an article based on a scientific study.

• There's no link back to the original study just the landing page of the publishing journal.  You should be asking yourself why. We'll get to that in a moment.
• The supporting studies that are, oddly, linked are old.  They are dated 2006 and 2007.  This is 2018.  Ten plus years will most likely have seen the findings in those studies obseleted many times over.  There are a few exceptions but generally, you should base your decisions on research that's not older than five years.
• The author notes that the scientists conducting the study showed correlation.  And she hints that they recognize correlation is not necessarily causation.  Just hints at it with a single weakly worded sentence.  Correlation means they observed a relationship between the variable (vaccines) and a result (an illness).  Causation means they proved that the variable caused a specific result.  This article wants you to believe these scientists proved something they did not.

So... you're feeling some skepticism?  Good!  It's time to look a little deeper.  The lead scientist's name is given and you know the topic.  Google it.  Google knows everything!

Go ahead.  Google "Anthony Mawson vaccine study."  Dig through all those hits.  See where the Journal of Translational Sciences, the publisher of the study's findings, has retracted it?  When a peer-reviewed scientific journal retracts an article, it's a big deal.  That's not a decision they come to lightly.  It's an embarrassment to them so there has to be a very good reason.  Except...  You knew that was coming, didn't you?  The Journal of Translational Sciences isn't a respected scientific journal.  See the OAT at the top?  It stands for Open Access Text.  And if you dig deep enough, you see that oatext.com hosts a vast number of journals that you can pay to publish your study.  They give the reviewers 20% off the top, even.  You've heard the term "pay to play" on the evening news usually in regards to a government contract?  This is what it looks like in medical research.  And even they retracted this study!

If you do find one of the copies of the original study that still shows up now and then (because someone downloaded a PDF copy when it was still available and has posted it somewhere again) and start reading there are more problems.  John Q. Average probably doesn't know what a "cross-sectional sample" is in a scientific study so they may not pick up that what Dr. Mawson goes on to describe after those words is the survey of a "convenience sample."  Convenience samples do not have the same validity because all they can tell you is the opinion of a group of people who choose to answer your survey questions.  Think about who is going to choose to participate in any survey... only people interested in the topic (unless they are paid and there was no compensation involved in this particular survey) and ask yourself if that method provides a true representation of the entire population you are studying, in this case the American general public.  Sometimes it might.  This is called generalization.  Not being generalized is a big technical flaw in a study.  Big.  Huge.

And consider the survey itself.  He selected a bit more than 600 homeschooling mothers in 4 states and asked them if their children were vaccinated (not at all, partially, and fully were the choices) and what health problems those children experienced.  No records review to see if their memory was correct.  No independent assessment of the children's health conditions.  No control group.  Faulty data collection method, poorly constructed survey questions, no substantiation.  There are also several issues with bias ranging from Dr. Mawson's role as an outspoken advocate for the anti-vaccine movement, funding from anti-vaccine groups to do the study, and using the same parents he surveyed to promote and disseminate information from it. Bias is a bad thing in scientific research because it can lead you to swing results to a pre-determined conclusion. If you're cherrypicking for the answer you want, is it really research?

Vaccines are a subject where I have no expertise so I can't offer you an opinion about whether or not they are a good thing.  And that's not the point I'm trying to make anyway.  What I hope you've learned from my dissection of Dr. Mawson's study is how to spot bad science in the future whether it's descriptive journalism in the popular media or seeking out a scientific journal and reading the published study findings.  Good research and the truly awful exist side-by-side and are shared widely and quickly with today's technology.

In a world where everyone sells themselves as an expert, be a skeptic.  Ask questions and read critically.  Use your mind instead of your emotions even when it's an emotional topic.  Make sure you've got good information as the basis for your choice.  Google is your friend - look up words you don't know.  Consider both sides of the argument fairly.

And then...

Make your choice.

(And for goodness sake, when you find bad science DON'T SPREAD THE TRASH FARTHER by posting it on Facebook!)

What I Love About Winter

Accuweather's 10-day forecast for Mount Savage, MD
on Dec 30, 2017

Has your skin turned blue... are you frozen through and through?  Oh, baby, it's cold outside! But I'm trying to stay positive this chilly night before New Year’s Eve and find some things to make winter seem more like an old friend than such an evil intruder throwing a wrench into whatever I have planned.

What I love most about winter:

Sweats are fashionable

Hot cocoa

Crockpots full of simmering soup

Guessing at animal footprints after fresh snowfall

A crackling fire in the fireplace

Fuzzy socks

Little kids stuffed into puffy coats 'til they can barely walk
Snuggly puppies
Electric blanket (or electric mattress pad so it's warm from below)
Ice cold water from the tap
Chicken pot pie
Fluffy bathrobes
Hot spiced cider
Looking at seed catalogs & dreaming of spring gardens
Watching kids sled down a hillside
Colorful birds flitting about in bare tree branches
Lasagna
The way falling snow makes it look like you're inside a snowglobe
Catching snowflakes on your tongue
Steaming bowls of chili
Being covered in the afghan you're crocheting
Daydreaming about a Hawaiian vacation
Dogs with crazy sweaters
Slathering butter on bread right from the oven
Videos of dogs learning to walk in their new booties
Binge watching Hallmark movies
Rolling the "r" when you say brrrrr...
Cute boots (and cute hats and mittens and scarves, too)
All kinds of apple desserts
Fondling the Christmas decorations as  you  put them away


And probably my very favorite... Complaining about the cold!

Life Goes On

There are times in your life when those words are exactly the truth you don't want to hear. While there are other times we mourn something or someone lost, I bet you, like me, think first of those excruciatingly and exquisitely painful first days after a loved one has passed away. You feel so much like something inside of you is gone. Irreplaceable and irrecoverable.  Yet, the world keeps turning on its trip around the sun. Grass grows. People go on about their business. And one day you find yourself awestruck that... life goes on.

Photo credit to her Daddy, Rory Feek.

I had that experience this morning. It was this simple picture of a little girl with a great big smile shared on the Joey+Rory Facebook page. She reminded me, in this moment her Daddy captured and shared with the world, of another little girl with an equally infectious smile and zest for living.  But it was his caption that while he could usually see more of her Momma today he saw himself that made me catch my breath.  The little girl in the photo is Indy. The other girl, the only child of a couple I knew in Georgia, is Kaydee. Most often when I see a picture of Kaydee, I think she looks like her Daddy but every now and again her expression is purely a reflection of her Mother. There was one just this past week that kept me staring and remembering the ultimate kindness, generosity, and cheerful words of a friend gone before we ever got to know each other nearly well enough.

You see, besides the huge grins and amazing spirit these girls have in common, Indy and Kaydee both lost their Mothers to breast cancer in the last year. I don't know a whole lot about the kind of cancer that took Joey Feek but the one that stole away Kaydee's sweet Momma is an insidious and stealthy killer for which there is no cure. Her cancer was one that masquerades as a host of other diseases making it easy to overlook and misdiagnose. One of the Atlanta television stations recently did a feature story on Inflammatory Breast Cancer that explains there's no lump or tumor to show up on a mammogram, only a reddish patch that looks a lot like a heat rash and the grim truth, that while treatment can slow it down, this cancer kills 100% of the time.

While we mourn the loss of their Mommas and marvel at the resiliency and acceptance of little girls like Indy and Kaydee, we find that truly life goes on.

With or without you, life goes on.

Note to self:  Choose to participate. Accept what is, work to fix what needs fixing, find your zest... Find your smile. Do it every single day.

5 Minutes You'll Never Get Back

Last night as we were getting settled in bed Gizmo decided he needed to snuggle. He may be all sorts of wonderful but a snuggle dog Gizmo is not... He just doesn't have that soft, squishy, comfortable-to-cuddle-on-your-lap kind of body and he doesn't usually even try but every now and then he decides you are in desperate need of a dose of his kind of lovin' and heaven help you, there's not a darn thing you can do about it. You will be Gizzered!

Gizmo, November 11, 2016

Last night was my lucky night...

He took a mighty leap at my side and ended up clinging for dear life with his front legs wrapped over the top of my head and the rest of his body hanging down past my shoulder. His embrace felt more like being trapped in the clenches of a love sick baboon than something pleasant, but I love my little dude so I endured it. Jack was sound asleep and snoring by my other knee already folded into as neat a little ball as a 100-lb Doberman can get which is, actually, surprisingly compact. And in that moment, for no apparent reason whatsoever, I got the giggles. Like out of control, could not stop, shrieking-at-the-top-of-my-lungs kind of giggles proving once again that I am awfully easy to keep entertained. Anyway, I laughed so hard there were tears running down my face. I was gasping for breath and probably turning blue from lack of oxygen. I laughed so hard I almost threw up. Lightning was so worried! He kept stomping round and round and over the top of me, crushing a lung in the process, and sniffing at my face. His expression was utter confusion about what was wrong with me. I guess I don't indulge in a good hard laugh often enough... I guess that needs to change!

Jack, November 11, 2016

After I finally got myself under control, and Gizmo off of me, I decided I was hungry and deserved a snack for surviving such a most excellent workout. I've been very good and didn't even buy any easy-grab-and-snack-junky stuff on the last grocery run so I had to resort to one of my Mom's standby munchies: buttered saltines. Yeah, I know. Ew! Could there be a food that tastes more like cardboard? And butter "just greases it up so it slides better," as she used to say. My Mom buttered everything. Everything. Even pepperoni pizza. But I digress... We were snacking on crackers (which I don't even like except with chili and then it's more like I have a little chili with my bowl of crushed up crackers) and Lightning burps like a third grader in a school yard contest. I swear if he knew how, that was a burp where he could have got the whole alphabet out. He looked as surprised by it as I was!

Lightning, November 11, 2016

To celebrate his utter lack of good manners and top the evening off, I took on the challenge of getting all 3 boys to howl at the moon with me. Not an easy fete! It's like they know howling is a talent that they missed the heavenly line up to get for this lifetime so it takes some serious effort to get an "owoooooo" going. And they still sound more like strangling goats than anything... Is it sad that I have a better howl than my dog? True story!

If you're still reading you've either laughed with me at least once or I just succeeded in wasting 5 minutes of your life that you've got no chance of ever getting back.  Either way...

Thanks for sharing in my bit of ridiculousness!!

Lightning's Recovery

With a past misdiagnosis as allergies (from the Banfield in Kennesaw's Petsmart) resulting in feeding him daily antihistamines in vain for nearly a year while my sweet Lightning-bug suffered with pretty severe Entropion (inward turned eyelids) top and bottom on both eyes, he finally got the right diagnosis for his problem and had corrective surgery for it the morning of March 4th. Clay Leathers at New Hope Animal Hospital is our vet now and I like him so much I'd go to him if he'd see me! Before the surgery Lightning's eyelashes were rubbing on his eyeballs and causing a lot of irritation, swelling, tears and pain. To greatly simplify Dr. Leathers explanation: the procedure involves cutting a half moon shaped piece of skin from around the eye and then suturing it to force the eyelid into the correct position.

Lightning's got pain medication, an ointment to help with the itch and swelling while his eyes heal and an antibiotic that the pharmacy had me shaking my head over.  Who writes those drug information sheets they staple to your bag?  The pharmacist was chatty and bragging about how all that information is so helpful and they are happy to offer that level of 'personalized service' to their customers... After I gave my boy the first dose, I sat down and read it.  Adverse reactions I'm supposed to watch for: vaginal irritation and discharge.  I couldn't help but think to myself, "Now THAT would be a much bigger problem than a drug reaction for HIM!"  So much for 'personalized,' huh?

This is him (cropped out of a group photo with Jack and Gizmo) a few months ago when he was on Benadryl.  You can see there's something wrong...  It almost makes my eyes hurt to look at this again.

And this is a few days before the surgery when he'd had the ointment put in his eyes for a couple of weeks so Dr. Leathers could gage how much correction was needed.  He looks so stoic... sad but resigned to this is how things are.  Dogs have such good attitudes!


Recovery is going well, I think.

Day 1:  His eyes are open and clear but they still look mightily irritated and sore. There are 4 stitches above and (if I'm counting right - the suture is the same color as his fur) 5 below each eye. Just like Dr. Leathers indicated would be the case, his upper lids appear almost normal because gravity pulls them down and close to the eye while the bottom lid seems to sag just a little. The sagging is due to being inflamed and as he heals it will go away. Lightning is resting comfortably. He's ravenously hungry and sweet and cuddly today - it's rainy and yucky so it's a good day to curl up in the bed and do some reading anyway! And he's mostly stopped fighting the e-collar (although he's not yet figured out that big thing around his head means he needs a much wider turning radius to keep it from catching on the door frames, steps... my backside).

Day 2:  Scabs are forming around his sutures and they look a little crusty and weepy, which is normal for my experience having stitches and from everything I read about this kind of surgery beforehand, so I'm leaving it be.  Lightning is spending more time out of the e-collar... only putting it on him for a bit when he gets insistent about rubbing his face.  His energy level is up and he's running and playing with Jack and Gizmo and looking happier than he's seemed in a long time!

Day 3:  There's no visible difference from yesterday but his demeanor, energy level and patience with Jacky squirming and slurping on his face for attention are much better!  He finally got to spend the majority of the day out of the cone...

Day 4:  We're done with that oversized Elizabethan thing!  Yay!!  He's enjoying the freedom and I have to admit I'm liking not getting it jammed in my bum every few steps, too.  Lightning is walking around in wide-eyed wonder at all the things he can see now.  He's sweet and playful and all day I've only heard one minor warning growl when he thought Gizmo was going to swoop in and get his treat.  So nice to have more play and less grrrrrr!

Days 5-7:  He's still looking at things like he's seeing them for the first time and can hardly take it all in fast enough.  It makes my heart glad to see him so much happier...  We went on a little Momma/Doggie date.  He loves to be in the car and he LOVES the chicken nuggets from McDonald's $1 menu so the date was a huge success!

Day 8:  The stitches are more visible today so the swelling must be going down some.  And they have nice clean scabs.  Sadly those scabs itch and Lightning is rubbing his face a lot again.  Stopping him as much as I can and keeping a close watch on him but I think he's healed enough that they will be okay unless he gets really vigorous about it.  His eyes are also starting to lose some of their bloodshot look.  Happy, affectionate and handsome!  How did I get to be such a lucky doggie momma?

Day 9-13:  Each day the incisions look just a little bit better.  If I'd actually taken a photo every morning, as I'd intended in the beginning, you'd see the change is almost imperceptible day-to-day but looking back from now to day 5 is a huge difference!  I'm so glad we had this procedure done!!  He looks so much happier about life, too!

Day 14:  The medicine is all done and the stitches are out!  Sadly, a few hours later, right at the end of the work day, I see the incision is opening up.  A quick call to the vet and email him this picture and sure enough... back in the cone and fasting tonight and he has a 7:30 am appointment tomorrow.  No sleeping in for this boy.  Or me.

My poor lil' "coney dog!"

A House of God

Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing,

and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting,

a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory,

a house of order, a house of God;

D&C 109:8

This is the scripture I'm using as a guide in managing my home during my 2015 rebuilding year and beyond.  It was revelation given to commence building the Kirtland Temple in late 1832/early 1833.  And since home is the only place on earth that can be considered as sacred as the Temple, I think it's good pretty darned good advice for making home into sacred ground.

The Kirtland Temple, Kirtland Ohio USA
Photo courtesy of Russ' Photo Journal.  View more pictures here:
http://russ-photojournal.blogspot.com/2010/07/kirtland-temple.html

I've been thinking a lot about what the phrase "home as sacred ground" means.  Some days I will just read through this verse and see which words catch my attention and other times I'll follow those thoughts and see if they lead me to personal inspiration about how to apply the advice.  One thing that got my attention early on in that thought process was that all of keywords are verbs; they direct the reader to take an action.

Organize, Prepare, Establish, Pray,

Fast, Faith, Learn, Glory, Order

But how do you do this?

From the footnotes in my scriptures, study notes jotted in the margins from past religion classes and Sunday School, more study now, prayer, and lots of thought I've come up with the following list of specific actions I can take in my own home.

• Manage finances to meet current needs and plan for the future.  Work to free myself from being a slave to debt.
• Magnify my Church callings within the home.  Show respect for those called to authority positions, do my Visiting Teaching, welcome my Visiting and Home Teachers into my home as treasured guests, hold Family Home Evening, hold family prayer and scripture study.  (Those last 3 need some tweaking since it's just me... but you get the idea.)
• Keep a clean and orderly house.
• Come and go in the name of the Lord.  Pray for peace and safety for guests and family.
• Have uplifted hands always.  Go about doing good and looking for ways to help my fellow man.
• Cease lustful desires.  Learn to be happy with what I've got, because it's really quite a lot!
• Stock my home with good books and other media.  Refuse to let the bad stuff in.
• Have food storage on hand as we've been asked to do for decades now.
• Get to know my neighbors better and seek ways to serve them.  Let my actions teach them the gospel.
• Read from the scriptures daily.
• Display pictures of the Savior, Temples and scripture quotes in each room of my home as visual reminders of what I hold most important.
• Play uplifting music.
• Pay tithes and offerings.
• Pray over everything.
• Be a good citizen.  Be involved in the community.  Make my values known.  Make them count.
• Attend Church and Temple services.

In some ways that seems like a daunting "To Do" list doesn't it?  And, yet, in others it's just plain common sense for any Christian who is truly living what they believe... things we should all be doing already.

Maybe that's the problem.  These are all things that sound good and right and worthwhile.  But it is just so hard to fit everything in with jobs and family and everyone having a different schedule and there's never enough money to satisfy what everyone thinks they need.  And pretty soon all that stuff that sounded so good on Sunday isn't getting done in the hubbub of daily life.

Guilty, here.  2013 and 2014 saw my finances spiral out of control.  Yes, I had "help" digging that pit but it's still a deep hole that I allowed myself into by placing trust in the wrong person.  And I haven't done a real good job with those other things in any recent time frame, either.  It's way past time for me to get myself together and get it done.  And trust me... if I can do it, so can you!!

And I'm going to do it!  No more excuses here.

Join me in the challenge?

Welcome To My Home

I wrote a short poem today.  Well, actually bits and pieces of it have been floating around in my head for a couple of weeks, but today is the day I got all the parts down on paper and decided it said what I wanted it to say.  And actually I'm kind of proud of it!  One of my great grandfathers was a superb poet and I always wanted to have inherited a latent poetry gene...  Maybe I got lucky and that wish came true?

Welcome To My Home

Welcome to my humble little home!

It’s not fancy, just some sticks and stone.

It’s known poverty and a bit of wealth,

And sheltered me through sickness and in health.

I've filled it with thoughts and people and things I love

As I begged for God’s blessings from above.

I’ve tried to learn from the bad to simply enjoy the good

And found it’s not about could, or should, or would…

But taking whatsoever I do have and sharing,

That is the best way to show my caring.

So come on in - you're fine just as you are

Friends always welcome from both near and far!!

My plan is to print it in a pretty font and put it in a $1 store frame that I've decorated with flowers and ribbons and such to make a rectangular wreath for my front door.  I think it's the perfect accompaniment to my 2015 goals, don't you?

2015: The Year of ME

Does it seem a little early for the New Year's Resolution/goal setting blog posts to begin?  Yeah, probably.  Guess, I'm just a little out of sync...

I posted this a day or so ago on Facebook, both to my own page and the blog page, as my personal theme for 2015.  Then I started thinking about how it might be taken as a threat and added a little extra explanation.

Photo credit to  https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheMotivatedType

In the coming year, I am going to continue to tell my story.  There are people who may not like how they are portrayed.  I'm still going to tell my story... MY story.  And if anyone is worried about their part in it then maybe they should have treated me better when they had the chance.  I'm not going to lie just so they can feel good about themselves or skip over events that are very formative to who I want to become.  A lot of horrible things happened in 2013 and 2014 and I learned so much.  While some of it is completely unexpected, I feel like God is going to use it somehow.  Really curious about how... But if telling it can help even one other person, then my story needs to be told.

Photo credit to the blog at FreePeople.com

The explanation I added talked a little about the New Beginnings program held each year for the Young Women in my Church where girls turning 12 are introduced to the program and the goals and achievements of the teens already participating are showcased. Impressive goals achieved in addition to school, extracurricular activities and often a part-time job. (You can satisfy your curiosity and learn more HERE.)  And that's what I want to do. Use the idea of New Beginnings to set some big goals and focus on fixing what's broken in me... trusting that every ending is followed by a new beginning.

Epic endings deserve equally epic beginnings.  And with that said 2015 is going to be the year I rebuild me!

In order of importance, but not likely achievement, here's what I want next year to look like:

• I have a date set to get me back to the Temple.
• I have my own home that is clean, safe and comfortable.
• Food in the cupboard has replaced worry about the next meal.
• I have a way to support myself.
• I have a reliable vehicle.
• My debts are being appropriately addressed.
• I have access to quality medical and dental care.
• My dogs are healthy and happy and have food and adequate veterinary care.
• I'm able to pay back, pay forward and offer meaningful service as was offered me in my need.
• I'm gardening and crafting and collecting antique silver again.
• I'm drawing and writing and making cooking an adventure again.
• I'm entertaining in my home and going places to meet new people again.
• I'm involved in my community.

Photo credit: Rose Hill Design Studio on Etsy

It goes back to my deep need for stability and security.  I'm not a person that thrives on the edge... Adventures are wonderful as long as there is a safe haven to come home to afterward.  I've come to realize just how much I need that to feel like I can relax and be happy.  It's doing the simple things in life that I know to be right.  Right for me.

And who better to do that for me than ME?

The Fry Cutter Incident

Since Derek and I are in the midst of splitting but are still sharing the house this may seem a little like sour pickles to be posting stuff about him.  Oh well... I can live with that.  Besides I want to preserve these memories as much as a reminder of how miserable he made me sometimes so I don't ever make this mistake again as for the comic relief that a life stranger than fiction can sometimes provide.

A couple of nights ago we had an incident involving a french fry cutter.

You know I'm a die-hard Idahoan in my heart and nothing but fresh cut potatoes make real french fries... those over-processed garbage things from the freezer aisle are not real.  They are plastic fries.  And we do not eat plastic at my house.

Mine isn't this fancy but it works the same way.  It's
just a $10 "As Seen on TV" jobbie from Walmart.
The cutter pictured is from Rawsie.

A little before bedtime Derek poked his head in my office and asked me where the fry cutter was.  I went down and pulled it out of the cupboard because that was just easier than trying to explain...  Never thinking that he needed remedial fry cutting lessons, I went upstairs and did my thing and got ready for bed.

Around 2 am some loud banging from the kitchen woke me up.  Followed by a little cussing...  While I was still trying to decide if I should get up and see what he was doing or let it go, he came and poked his head in my door and said "I broke the fry cutter."

I was incredulous and asked "how?"  I don't know if he answered or not since even in my half asleep state I was thinking "how the H. E. Double-Toothpicks does one break a fry cutter?" but I followed him back down to the kitchen to see what mess he'd left for me this time.

Sure enough.  Remedial lessons should have been given.

The insanely obvious take it out of the box, set it on the counter, lift the top, put your potato inside and push the top down... I guess was somewhat less than obvious to him.  He took the whole thing apart.  Even parts I didn't know came apart!  And then jammed the top down over the base an inch farther than it should go and without the blade inside.  And it was stuck together.  I mean stuck!!

I tried pulling it apart and wedging a knife between the parts to get some leverage to wiggle them apart.  A table knife, not a sharp one.  I may be reckless but I'm not stupid!  Before I could get any movement, he took it away from me.  Just grabbed it out of my hands... same as the time he grabbed the new breaker thingy out of my hands and electrocuted himself on the breaker box because he took too much of it apart and touched an exposed wire.

Heaven forbid that I might know just the tiniest bit about what I'm doing...

Anyway, he still couldn't get it apart.  And he started wailing about the lack of assembly instructions on the side of the box.  I was miffed because he grabbed it out of my hands.  And he was angry and frustrated because he wanted fries and couldn't make them.

Yes, I said "couldn't."

Go ahead.  Roll your eyes.  I did as I said I'd just cut them with a knife and figure out the cutter in the morning.  So he hands me a big butcher knife.  The biggest one out of the drawer.  Like I'm gonna clean up potatoes and slice them into french fries with a gargantuan knife meant to hack a side of beef into all those different cuts?  Right...

I asked for a smaller knife.  And he handed me the next one down.  Again, too big for the job.  But... I took it and did what I needed to.  Nicked my thumb and it bled all over the kitchen.  I wrapped a clean dishcloth around it and cut his fries and then went and put a bandaid on my owie and crawled back in bed.

No thank you was proffered.  No inquiry if the cut was bad enough to need attention.  Nothing.  How rude, right?

The next morning it took me less than 10 minutes to work the fry cutter pieces apart.  It really didn't need all the cussing and pounding and wailing in the night.  So, yes I am going to refer to him as "dumber than a fry cutter" from here on out.  Maybe only in my imagination, but still!

Coffee, Science and Judgment

August 1, 2014

Photo credit: http://kristentorrestoro.myadventures.org/?
filename=a-cup-of-coffee-and-air-miles

I’ve never fancied myself as a scientifically minded person, but I do like to know how stuff works.  And when I really want to know I will ask questions of every person who I think might have some possible insight.  I will ask and ask and ask, probably to the point of making an annoyance of myself.  That’s how I found out why coffee makes ibuprofen work better for my knee pain.

When I’m hurting badly and ibuprofen and/or acetaminophen just don’t touch it on their own, taking 800 mg (4 tablets) of ibuprofen with a mug of coffee brings the pain down to a bearable level.  Yes, I do know 800 mg is more than the recommended dose on the over-the-counter label but it’s less than you get with 1 prescription Advil.  And since I don’t do it every day my nurse friends tell me it’s a pretty safe dose.  For years now I’ve known that it worked but I didn’t know why.  And the “why” part bugged me.

Many years ago I worked with a man who had a prescription from his dentist for a cup of coffee every morning with whatever painkiller he was taking for otherwise untreatable tooth/jaw pain.  I rolled my eyes and thought he just liked coffee and needed the prescription to excuse it and keep his Temple Recommend so his wife wouldn’t kill him.  (He was, and I presume still is, LDS and drinking coffee is against the dietary code for Mormons in much the same way that Jews don’t eat pork.  As I understand it, the reasons are a little different but that a dietary code exists is similar.  For Mormons it’s a test of obedience while Jews are avoiding contact with an ‘unclean,’ and therefore harmful, substance -- for example, fat, naturally high sodium content, parasites and other diseases that would be readily transmittable because our body chemistry is so similar to swine that medical science can, today, use their organs for transplants in humans.)  I really didn’t give it much more thought until several years and a couple of jobs later when I found myself with a raging headache and a full afternoon of flashy PowerPoint presentations in a dark room ahead of me.  My boss handed me a couple of Advil and sternly told me to go get a cup of coffee and put my head down for 15 minutes.  Her persuasive powers finally prevailed…  And my headache went away.

I assumed it was the caffeine giving the painkiller a boost.  So, being Mormon myself, I tried to replicate the effect with other beverages.  I tried hot chocolate, Dr. Pepper, energy drinks, even caffeinated bottled water.  It didn’t work.  I got the energy bump but there was absolutely no effect on pain.

Ten years of asking everyone I met with any sort of science background and Googling it nigh to death… and I finally have my answer.  I met someone who knew and the patience to explain it in terms I understand.   FINALLY I know how it works!!

Caffeine is a nervous system stimulant.  That’s why you wake up or get the little energy bump from consuming it.  But caffeine is not the only stimulant in coffee.  The oil of the coffee bean contains bioflavonoids that specifically stimulate blood flow.  More blood, and consequently more of the painkilling and anti-inflammatory compounds in the ibuprofen, is delivered to the site of pain.  And that’s what gives the relief.

I really kind of love logical, tidy, simple answers like that!

The physician who explained this to me cautioned that the increase in blood flow is generally considered medically insignificant.  And, like any medication, the effect (pain relief in this case) doesn’t happen for every person who tries it.  But there is a growing body of documentation that for a certain segment of the population it is effective so maybe it’s more significant that medicine recognizes today.  And that is good enough for me.  There’s no guilt about having the occasional mug of coffee now that I know there is sound scientific reasoning behind my claim that it’s doing something positive in my body.  And I guess if I end up needing a prescription to justify it I can get past feeling so utterly silly asking…

Funny how sometimes it takes years for God to show you that your rash judgment of someone was way off base isn’t it?  Maybe that co-worker from years ago liked the pain relief more than the coffee.  I shouldn’t have assumed anything about his habits or motives.  I would do well to love more and judge less!

It's a Good Day

Today has been filled so many good little things!  I just feel the need to share my gratitude for these tiny blessings...

Derek's mom loaned me her car for the weekend while she's out of town attending JazzFest in New Orleans.  Freedom.  Independence.  IT. NEVER. FELT. SO. GOOD.  Plus it's a pretty cool car!  She drives a 2011 (I think) black Chevy Cruze.  I like the way it handles.  I like it a lot.  I actually told Derek I could get used to having a little sedan like this instead of another SUV... which has been my stated preference for ease in hauling dogs around when we can get stable enough to replace my vehicle.  But now I'm thinking I can crowd them into the backseat and they'll be just fine.

I went to pay the note on his car earlier in the afternoon.  The nearest branch of the bank that holds the note is inside a Kroger not terribly far from the house.  They were doing Customer Appreciation Day so I got hor d'oeuvres (aka over-cooked chicken nuggets from the store's deli and nibbles from a fresh veggie tray) and a bright blue frosted cupcake.  Hey!  That's meat, vegetables and dessert... that counts as a FREE lunch!!

And while I was inside Kroger I remembered to pick up the garlic that I forgot when we grocery shopped earlier in the week and need because it is one of the absolute necessary and key ingredients in the marinade for the Cambodian Chicken Skewers I'm planning on making for dinner tomorrow.  And it was on sale so I got 2 with the thought I'll have at least one full head to break apart and plant in the garden and then hopefully we can be "garlic self-sufficient" starting this fall.

When I came out of the store, I found $1 in the parking lot.  Woohoo!  Mad money!!

Thinking they're crappy but will do the job I need it to I stopped at the Dollar General by my house and got a broom.  Last time I noticed they were $2.  But now the same brooms cost even less... today it was priced at $1.75.

Ace Hardware shares their parking lot (for now, but they're moving when the new building is finished) so I walked over there to look at their plants and picked out a 4-pack of really good looking 'Beefsteak' tomatoes.  When I got home I noticed there's 5 plants in the plastic tray.  Score!!  Now I just need to get me outside and get a spot to plant them prepared.  I think I'm already just a little on the late side for getting a garden in but it should be ok since the growing season is quite long.

A nice man at Church has offered me strawberry starts from his garden.  I'm hoping to go get them Monday afternoon... but while I was looking at plants I noticed the strawberries there.  Holy moly!  6 scraggly little plants are priced at $3.99.  Getting pretty much all I can use for FREE... major SCORE!!

Considering all the doom and gloom of my recent past, I think today isn't just good, "IT'S GGGRRREEEAAATTTTTT!!"  (I bet you thought that in the voice of Tony Tiger... of Frosted Flakes fame.  Yes, I blatantly and unashamedly stole that quote... sorry Kellogg's.)

Even the Laundry

Photo credit: Womanhood with Purpose Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/womanhoodwithpurpose/posts
/672428669502707

There's a Facebook group that I follow called A Farm Wife where the administrator posts each day something she calls "Celebrating the Daily Ordinary" where a little thing we may be taking for granted is called out with gratitude.  One day it might be indoor plumbing, or that we have vacuums (instead of having to tie straw to a stick to sweep out our kitchen) or readily available electricity coming into our homes to power lights, appliances and entertaining toys.  You know, the things it's easy to overlook because they are just part of the everyday ordinary stuff of life.

Laundry needs to be celebrated, too!  Did you know that taking care of the laundry is even something God asks of His people?  Take a look at Exodus 19:10-11.

"And the Lord said unto Moses, Go unto the people, and sanctify them to day and to morrow, and let them wash their clothes,

And be ready against the third day: for the third day the Lord will come down in the sight of all the people upon mount Sinai."

I think it's interesting that Moses was asked to tell the people to sanctify themselves (cleanse the inner man) AND to wash their clothes (cleanse the outer man as well) in preparation for meeting the Lord.  In Church, and sometimes just in life generally, we spend a lot of time talking about the status of the inner man and about how concerned God is with the condition of our heart... as in how well we loved and cared for our fellow man... but we shy away from discussions about taking care of ourselves feeling like that is being selfish and unGodly.

But... if you take a literal look at the Lord's words in Mark 12:29-30 when He was asked about the greatest of all the commandments, He says:

"And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.

And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these."

Love thy neighbour AS THYSELF.

Part of loving yourself is taking care of your body, your home, your clothing... whatever your physical surroundings may be.  And God just told us that it's important to Him.  Very very important!

As a child I was taught a song to remind me not only about when to do them but that they were important details to take care of each week:

Saturday is a special day.

It's the day we get ready for Sunday:

We clean the house, and we shop at the store

So we won't have to work until Monday.

We brush our clothes and we shine our shoes

And we call it our get the work done day.

Then we trim our nails and we shampoo our hair

So we can be ready for Sunday.

(words and music by Rita Robinson, 1920-2011)

We always sang it 'wash our clothes' instead of brush them but the point is, we got things done during the week, and especially on Saturday, to be ready to spend Sunday - our Sabbath - with the Lord.  Isn't it wonderful to think about all our mundane daily tasks this way?  Doesn't it help to elevate them and give the things we do in the home a more proper importance?  We are doing them to prepare for our time communing with the Lord and being refreshed and re-energized by Him.

Something to think about... celebrate the ordinary daily things in life.  And do them, even the laundry, with enthusiasm!

Oh Martha...

Martha, Martha, Martha...

(I bet in your mind you said that like the old Brady Bunch lament of Marsha, Marsha, Marsha... I know I did!)

Thanks to 5MinutesforMom.com for the image/
screenshot of Martha Stewart's interview segment.
You can listen to it here, if you'd like.

Dear Martha,

I'm a blogger.  Of sorts.  Not a very famous one, but I do write and share blog posts all the same.  And you're right...  I'm not a trained editor.  I'm just an average person trying to make my way in the world as best I can.  I claim no special expertise in anything but being me.

I don't have the privilege of hiring expert decorators when I furnish my home.  I pick out the furniture and paint and accessories myself because they are things I like.  Usually a room comes together in layers over a long period of time not in a matter of days like a professional would do it.  And mostly I think I do a pretty decent job.  My colors match, or anyway coordinate, pretty good.  The furniture is comfortable and usually the decorations come with interesting stories.  It's enough that my family and friends and I are happy to be in the room.  And for me that's the point of having it - sharing it with other people who are just as real and average as me.  None of us care, truthfully, that the decor will never be featured in Better Homes & Gardens or on an HGTV segment.

And I don't have formal training as a chef from some hoity toity culinary institute.  While I sort of covet those amazing knife skills I'd gain with that kind of training, I wouldn't trade the lessons in running a kitchen I received from my mom to get them.  And I've never poisoned anyone with what I've fed them!  In fact, I get a lot of compliments on my cooking.  Lots of my average people family and friends seem to think I cook quite well.  And on those occasions when I don't?  Well, they have no problems telling me that either.  You see, the test kitchen that's meaningful to me is my own family dinner table.

And you know what?  The last art class I took was [a deep departure from my Business major] Fashion Illustration in college probably a good 20 years ago.  So I guess it's safe to say I have no real expertise with arts and crafts either.  But mind blowingly... I do them!  And quite often successfully enough that I want to share a picture, sans any training in photography, as sort of a brag about it with my friends.

I also did not attend Divinity School, so I can't claim any special religious expertise beyond daily communion with my Father in Heaven and time spent in the scriptures.  I have no degree in Psychology so advice and commentary on the human condition fall outside my realm of expertise, too.

And to go even further, I have no special training in writing.  Sure, I got good grades in my public school English classes (composition and grammar and sentence structure were part of basic English back in the day) but that's pretty much where it ended.  I just happen to like words.  I like how they feel rolling off my tongue, or I guess fingertips since I'm sitting here typing this out.

I guess this leaves me pretty unqualified to write a blog where such topics are discussed!  But I do it anyway.

And I'm not going to stop.

Doing and writing and sharing about my life make me happy.  It keeps me sane.  Or maybe I should say, it keeps me less insane.  Blogging is my therapy; my release from everything that would become a demon to torment my nights.  And if that's not ok with you Martha, I can live with it.

There was a time when I looked at you as a role model; someone to emulate and study because of your own uncommon rise to success.  You were a fashion model and then a stock broker by trade, correct?  Ironic how that worked out...  I don't seem to remember reading where you found the expertise to start your catering business or to build it into the empire that is Martha Stewart Living.  Where did you get to be an expert about decorating or cooking or crafting or how to compose an enticing photo?  When did you get the training to be an editor or social media guru?  I'm wondering if perhaps you're no expert either?

And that's an oddly comforting thought.

Blackjack, Second of His Name

Realizing that I've mentioned it but never actually properly introduced the newest member of our family...  how about we fix that?  Meet Blackjack!

Jack for short.

Jack and a few toys (in varying stages of being shredded).

Or sometimes Jacky.  Or Jackjack.  And he's Jack-a-Lacka-Wing-Wong (in a goofy sort of sing-song voice) when I'm being silly...

He's a black and tan Doberman Pinscher who was being sold at bargain basement clearance price on eBay.  The breeder was ready to breed another of their dogs and needed the pen where this little guy was living.   He was the last puppy left from a previous litter and he had to go.  So they cut his price in half and put his picture on eBay where Derek found it and as they say, the rest is history.

Our little Jack is a name-sake for the dog Derek's family had when he was a child, another large black and tan Doberman.  And though his sister says we 'have to' get his ears done to keep the name, I think it's stuck on him by now.  With the floppy ears she says he looks like a hound... and she sings Elvis to him:  "You ain't nuttin' but a hound dawg!"

Jack is a good-natured little guy who loves to cuddle and kiss.  Kisses can be a dangerous proposition, though.  He still isn't convinced that teeth are not a part of kissing.

We feel pretty lucky to have him since he's such a perfect fit personality-wise with our other boys.  He jumps in and plays along with them, and fights his way to the front of the treats line, like he doesn't realize he's only about 1/3 their size yet.  Just give him a few months and he'll catch up.

And just like the others, he will eat anything I give him!  ANYTHING!!  Bananas, peanut butter and pumpkin puree are the currently favored treats. Somehow to me that stuff doesn't sound very dog-like but the drool streaming out their mouths would convince you they find it to be pretty darned tasty bites.

He sounds like a mooing cow when he moans in his sleep!  He's outgrown it now, but Lightning did that as a baby and I L.O.V.E.D. it so much!  So that Jack does it, too... well, it just melts my heart.

Today, Jack discovered that he fits into places the bigger dogs don't anymore.  He crawled under the futon downstairs and started nipping at feet as Thunder and Lightning and Gizmo would dart up to play with him.  One time he caught Thunder's back foot and so he stepped up onto the futon and then Jack nipped his opposite front foot and he put it up on the ottoman... with the next nip, Thunder shot straight up in the air and straddled the space in between the futon and ottoman.  It was so funny!!

We met Jack's parents when we picked him up and estimate he's going to be another huge dog based on their sizes.  And researching some other stuff Derek uncovered an interesting factoid about these very large Dobermans that neither of us knew before.  When a male's weight exceeds 100 pounds, he's referred to as a Warlock.  These Warlocks came into being in the 1970's in Europe when Dobermans' were just coming into fashion as guard dogs and there wasn't enough breeding stock to meet the demand for puppies.  Some were bred with Great Danes... and today's big boys are a throwback to those Dobie/Dane bloodlines.

The Pine Coning

I guess it's a hazard of living in the woods...

My poor Jeep got pineconed a few days ago when I was coming home one evening from some event.  I was almost to the house.  I was coming down the "S" turn on that little hill toward the end of our lane with the semi-blind driveways and root bumps in the asphalt where I always slow down to a mere creep when it happened.

Out of nowhere there was a loud sharp THWACK!!!

I jumped in my seat!  Instantly my heart was pounding!!  And my passenger-side mirror was shattered and smacked up against the window.  I had to go to the bathroom and it was all I could do to keep that dam from bursting...  It was so scary!  Derek was about 20 minutes behind me in his own car and I called him on the verge of tears I was so shaken and confused by what had just happened.  When he got home and looked at the damages and had walked back up the lane to see if there was any other debris, he said I'd come into contact with a dropping pine cone from one of the pine trees that line that particular curve.  Apparently my poor mirror hit it like a baseball bat.

Count on me to have such awesome timing!

A couple of days later I happened to look up when I was out in my own yard and this is what I saw directly over the spot where I park.

Isn't that just a beautiful disaster waiting to happen?  Well, it is beautiful but all things considered... YIKES!

Roscoe: A Sad Ending

I told a little fib.  Actually… some folks might call my deception kind of a whopper.  Sorry.  Whether my reasons are ultimately judged as good or bad, there was a reason for keeping it a secret.

A few weeks ago I talked about a Pit Bull puppy getting adopted from the Fulton County Animal Shelter.  That part is true.  But I purposely mislead everyone about where Jerry aka Tiger and more recently aka Gizmo actually lives.  Let me come clean:  Gizmo is ours.  And he is a joy!  A complete cuddle puppy who loves nothing more than naptime wrapped in my arms… and licking peanutbutter off a spoon.  That's pretty awesome stuff, too!  Gizmo should be the poster puppy for why you would consider a shelter adoption!!

The shelter's intake photo for Tycoon/Roscoe
taken appx August 10, 2013.

The same day we brought him home, we brought home another dog… a smallish 2-3 year old Rottweiler the shelter tagged as Tycoon.  Tycoon, or whatever his real name is, had an entire lifetime that was filled with mistreatment from all that we pieced together.  He was starved – you could lay fingers between his ribs – and had small open sores on his face and front paws.  We know he had broken toes at some point because his nails stick up in rather odd directions.  He was in such bad shape that the shelter’s vet wouldn't neuter him, a requirement for adoption, because she didn't feel like he would survive the anesthesia from the surgery so Tycoon came home with us as a foster dog to get healthy first.

For the first 3-4 days, I wanted nothing more than to send him back!  He velcroed himself to my leg and just made me crazy.  I couldn't take a step without tripping over him.  Literally!!  He was like a stone attached tightly to my ankle.  He just stoically sat there unwilling to even blink and completely oblivious to the danger he was putting both of us in if I fell!  He wouldn't take an independent step away from me unless… he saw an opportunity to hump the puppy… or poop on the floor.

Roscoe the evening of September 11, 2013

We were grateful that it seemed like his behavior mellowed as he observed and interacted with the other dogs.  It was almost like he watched them to learn how to be a dog.  He played very (almost uncomfortably) intensely but thinking lack of testosterone would make him a bit more docile, we started calling him Roscoe and made plans to complete the adoption following his surgery on September 12.  He'd put on enough weight, got a real shine to his coat and you could even see the beginnings of muscles rippling over his chest.  All in all - a pretty dramatic turn-around!

Sadly, however, Roscoe isn't going to remain part of family.

He came home from the neutering intent that he, and only he, could be the center of ALL attention and he was ready to violently enforce his new ‘rule.’  Within 24 hours, he'd been in several altercations with Thunder… and initially we thought Thunder was the instigator because of his posturing for dominance in the past... but the bloody gashes on Thunder looked more like defensive wounds and he was the one left crying.  Then he attacked Gizmo, unprovoked, while we watched.  A little bit later, he lunged and bit my arm as I reached past him to give one of the other dogs a treat - a near nightly custom on our way up to bed.  And then while Derek was getting everyone calmed down again…  Derek sat on the next to bottom step of the stairs and was petting Roscoe’s head and speaking to him softly.  Thunder walked up, sniffed at Roscoe from behind and sat down on Derek’s other side to get petted, too.  As soon as Derek reached to pat Thunder’s head with his other hand, Roscoe went crazy.  He was snarling, slobbering, and snapping in a frightful display... Somehow Derek got Thunder behind him and into the hall bathroom while pushing Roscoe back with his foot.  He got bit.  A nasty looking puncture on the bottom/side of his foot that we're still watching for infection.

My left forearm the evening of 9/13... my 'reward' for giving treats and a bit of band-aid
scum (1 of my 2 allergies - I will get a nasty weepy rash if I leave it on longer).
The main gash is fairly deep and bled steady for almost 12 hours.

Once Roscoe was leashed outside and the wounds were all cleaned and bandaged, we sat down to talk and made the very difficult decision to surrender Roscoe back to the shelter.  He presented a greater danger than we are prepared to take on...  It isn't fair for the other dogs to live in fear of when he's going to snap and attack them.  It isn't fair that we worry about coming home to a wounded, or dead, dog every time we leave the house.  It isn't fair to wonder when we are going to have an issue with animal control thinking our dogs are being abused because of his attacks.  It isn't fair to worry about him escaping the yard and hurting a neighbor's pet - or worse, their child.  And it surely isn't fair to live with the pain of being bitten repeatedly and not knowing when his bite would do significant damage to one of our own limbs.

With broken hearts and many tears we took him back to the shelter on Saturday morning.  We told them everything.  We told them about his initial behavior issues, his growing intensity as he got healthier, our hopes that neutering would calm him down, about his violence on returning home...  It just felt like the day couldn't get any worse.  And then a staff member at the shelter gave us a lecture saying that his behavior was all our fault; that we'd cared for him wrong and broke a commitment to give him a forever home no matter what.  Basically, she said we were terrible, horrible, evil people who had no business ever owning a pet.

Wow!  That hurts.

Even knowing it's absolutely not true, it still hurts.  I know what happened in my home.  I know how he was treated, loved and wanted.  But I guess offering the same treatment and a good measure of safety to our other pets and ourselves isn't enough in their eyes.  I'm sure when I get past being stunned, I'll get angry and complain to their director and whatever part of county government oversees the animal shelters in Atlanta.  But right now, I'm just grieving.

Will we try again for a 4th dog?  Oh yes... Derek has already searched out a breeder with a black and tan Doberman puppy, the last of the litter and available for a bargain price to free up their breeding pen.  May the Good Lord help me!!  Another puppy to potty train...