I have a dog again so I want to be a better owner. I read Cesar Millan's Be The Pack Leader and I'm trying to put his philosophy into practice. This means I'm working on being more decisive and confident in myself.
Sometimes I remind myself of things I've experienced or value in myself to help build up my confidence. Things such as:
white water rafting
skiing
stand up paddle boarding
snow shoeing
para sailing
golfing
public speaking
traveling alone
I have sense of humor and patience
I'm smart
I can use tools
I'm an awesome cook and baker
I'm strong
It's an ongoing list and seeing it in print is inspiring. Make your own.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Happy Tails
We caved. We got a dog. Two years ago our dog, Molly died and we didn't want another dog. Although we all missed the presence of a dog not having one gave us a lot of freedom. Also our children are older, one in college the other finishing high school and I work part time. We reasoned it wasn't fair to leave a dog alone most of the day.
But we would torture ourselves by cruising the Internet researching breeds and then looking at dogs on rescue sights, We'd fall in love but our sanity would return and we'd decide the time wasn't right. Our youngest accused us of being cruel.
Then enter my mother-in-law. She volunteered to babysit the dog a few days a week while I was at work and when we go away. She was serious. She requested we get a smaller dog. We were in total agreement. Portable was what we were going for.
Rescuing a dog from the pound has changed since the early eighties. I got a dog from the pound then. I filled out a brief form, plunked down a modest fee and I had myself a dog. Not so anymore. Dogs in foster homes, anyway, seem to require a vigorous screening process. Don't have a fence. Rejected. Gone for a few hours during the day. Nope. Plan to put the dog in a crate. Move on sister we ain't interested.
My husband quickly grew frustrated. It turns out you can visit some pounds, fill out a lengthy form, fork over a not so modest fee and leave with a new best friend. That's what they did a month ago. Now we have a Pomeranian mix fur ball (the kids named him Tommy) in the family.
But we would torture ourselves by cruising the Internet researching breeds and then looking at dogs on rescue sights, We'd fall in love but our sanity would return and we'd decide the time wasn't right. Our youngest accused us of being cruel.
Then enter my mother-in-law. She volunteered to babysit the dog a few days a week while I was at work and when we go away. She was serious. She requested we get a smaller dog. We were in total agreement. Portable was what we were going for.
Rescuing a dog from the pound has changed since the early eighties. I got a dog from the pound then. I filled out a brief form, plunked down a modest fee and I had myself a dog. Not so anymore. Dogs in foster homes, anyway, seem to require a vigorous screening process. Don't have a fence. Rejected. Gone for a few hours during the day. Nope. Plan to put the dog in a crate. Move on sister we ain't interested.
My husband quickly grew frustrated. It turns out you can visit some pounds, fill out a lengthy form, fork over a not so modest fee and leave with a new best friend. That's what they did a month ago. Now we have a Pomeranian mix fur ball (the kids named him Tommy) in the family.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Exercise Observation
I stated previously I love to exercise. I had been a dedicated morning workout person until just before Thanksgiving. Note the past tense. A few things happened that got me out of the habit and I've been working to get back into my routine. I'm not trying to shift blame to anyone or anything; I just lost my resolve I guess. But that brings me to my observation....
Why is it smoking or drinking or drugs, all addictive behaviors, are habits that are so hard to break? Even caffeine or nail biting are tough habits to control. Did you ever hear of anyone having to go to rehab to kick an exercise habit? In a flash that good for habit is gone. There are no painful withdrawal symptoms. All of a sudden you realize you're out of the routine. And getting back into it is not a piece of cake. Falling off the wagon is easy --getting back on not so.
Anyway, I'm trying to get back into the early morning workouts. If I don't do it in the morning the chances are extremely-very-100% high I'm not doing it the any other time during the day. I may promise myself I will but I don't.
Why is it smoking or drinking or drugs, all addictive behaviors, are habits that are so hard to break? Even caffeine or nail biting are tough habits to control. Did you ever hear of anyone having to go to rehab to kick an exercise habit? In a flash that good for habit is gone. There are no painful withdrawal symptoms. All of a sudden you realize you're out of the routine. And getting back into it is not a piece of cake. Falling off the wagon is easy --getting back on not so.
Anyway, I'm trying to get back into the early morning workouts. If I don't do it in the morning the chances are extremely-very-100% high I'm not doing it the any other time during the day. I may promise myself I will but I don't.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Proud Parent
I'm so proud of my youngest daughter. She participated in a horse show this morning and did really, really well.
She's been in school shows at the county barn where she's taken lessons for the past seven (?) years. She has won ribbons in her events, first place ribbons through sixth place and even sometimes no ribbon at all. Once she even won reserve champion of the overall show. Today's show was a little different for us.
This show was held at a private barn where she's had a few lessons. It was much smaller and very low key but winning or placing in the events earns the riders points towards competing in larger competitions. I don't understand all of it but this was a step up from the county school shows.
My daughter rode in five classes in her division, she won three 1st place ribbons, one 2nd place and one 4th place as well as division champion.
Yep I'm proud of my daughter.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Excavation
I've had an on-going project over the last few months of trying to organize my desk. I started by gathering up everything on the top of it and carrying the mass to the dining room table. I've been slowly sorting through it, putting recipes in binders, filing tidbits of information and throwing a lot of it away.
The advantage of the project being dragged out over months is some of the stuff that gets unearthed I can't remember why I thought I needed it or it's out of date. Those I just toss in recycling.
The disadvantage of it going on so long is now there is another mound on my desk to deal with.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
It's That Time Again
It's getting warm, the sun is shining stronger and the birds are singing. What does this mean? It means GOLF SEASON!!!!!!!!
I love golf.
I'm not good at it. Not awful either, but not good. What I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm. Or so I'd like to think.
Today I went down to Town Hall, to the Rec Dept. and re-upped my membership at the town course.
Our town course is a nine hole job. It's narrow, has ball-eating trees and sometimes requires wearing a helmet. But it's my course.
My husband belongs to an 18 hole golf club. Tee times are required there. Not at my course, it's first come first served.
Over the years I've learned some of the tricks of the course. Not just the strategy of the course itself but the first come first served part.
Timing.
Don't even consider a weekend. It goes without saying it's crowded but this course attracts a lot of golfers like me; the less than stellar players. The helmet comes in handy on these days. Remember I said it's narrow.
Early mornings the older men like to play. Tuesday morning is the women's league; avoid Tuesdays. Other mornings mosey on over around ten the wait shouldn't be too long.
Afternoons are avoided too because that's when the hot-shot Tiger Woods wanna-be kids like to play. They don't have a lot of patience with moms playing golf. Although some can be intimidated if you do some good warm up stretches and practice swings.
Arrange a four-some ahead of time.
You can get away with a three-some but if it's busy with just two players you run the risk of having a couple of guys join up with you. I'm not against meeting new people but I've had a little trouble with men that aren't my husband feeling they can be free with the golf tips. Avoid this by bringing a foursome.
Course management
I'll leave that up to the pros. Okay, okay here's my insight on how to manage this course. It's simple try not to go down the hills on 2, 7 and 8. Oh and watch out for the ball-eating trees on 6.
Let 'er rip!
I love golf.
I'm not good at it. Not awful either, but not good. What I lack in talent I make up for in enthusiasm. Or so I'd like to think.
Today I went down to Town Hall, to the Rec Dept. and re-upped my membership at the town course.
Our town course is a nine hole job. It's narrow, has ball-eating trees and sometimes requires wearing a helmet. But it's my course.
My husband belongs to an 18 hole golf club. Tee times are required there. Not at my course, it's first come first served.
Over the years I've learned some of the tricks of the course. Not just the strategy of the course itself but the first come first served part.
Timing.
Don't even consider a weekend. It goes without saying it's crowded but this course attracts a lot of golfers like me; the less than stellar players. The helmet comes in handy on these days. Remember I said it's narrow.
Early mornings the older men like to play. Tuesday morning is the women's league; avoid Tuesdays. Other mornings mosey on over around ten the wait shouldn't be too long.
Afternoons are avoided too because that's when the hot-shot Tiger Woods wanna-be kids like to play. They don't have a lot of patience with moms playing golf. Although some can be intimidated if you do some good warm up stretches and practice swings.
Arrange a four-some ahead of time.
You can get away with a three-some but if it's busy with just two players you run the risk of having a couple of guys join up with you. I'm not against meeting new people but I've had a little trouble with men that aren't my husband feeling they can be free with the golf tips. Avoid this by bringing a foursome.
Course management
I'll leave that up to the pros. Okay, okay here's my insight on how to manage this course. It's simple try not to go down the hills on 2, 7 and 8. Oh and watch out for the ball-eating trees on 6.
Let 'er rip!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Boy Was My Face Red
When I was a kid (Hey! It wasn't that long ago. All right maybe it was longer than I'd like to think about.) anyway, a regular column in a teen magazine was "Boy was my face red" . Girls wrote in with their embarrassing experiences. It was always one of our favorite columns. We'd read the entries and have a good laugh but be relieved nothing terrible had happened to us. Yeah right, it was only a matter of time.
In the town where I grew up there is a park on the edge of the downtown shopping district. It has a bandstand, playground, and a picturesque bridge over the little stream that leads to the pond.
A number of wild and domestic ducks called this pond home. People would come with their little kids to feed the ducks or fish in the pond. This was before they found out feeding the ducks in the pond caused a fatal bacteria growth in the stagnate water which killed most of the ducks and necessitated dredging the pond and attempting to improve the water flow. Anyway before all this happened the park could be a very busy place. Especially on one of the first days of spring.
I walked to the park with a friend. We were strolling around, checking out the guys and trying to look cool.
A group of boys was hanging out by the pond tormenting the ducks so we casually strolled to the vicinity and stood on the rocks around the pond's edge eyeing them. Remember I said we were trying to look cool. That ended with a splash as I lost my balance and fell into the pond. To make it even worse (How could it possibly be worse?), I expected the pond to be deeper than it was so when my feet hit the bottom I further stumbled and fell full length into the scummy water making a second, even larger splash.
Laughter erupted from the boys and "Boy was my face red".
I sqooshed home, my teeth chattering because although it was spring it was still nippy, especially if you were wet. To add insult to injury my friend refused to lend me her sweater even though I promised to wash it before returning it. I will never forget that day.
When I was a kid (Hey! It wasn't that long ago. All right maybe it was longer than I'd like to think about.) anyway, a regular column in a teen magazine was "Boy was my face red" . Girls wrote in with their embarrassing experiences. It was always one of our favorite columns. We'd read the entries and have a good laugh but be relieved nothing terrible had happened to us. Yeah right, it was only a matter of time.
In the town where I grew up there is a park on the edge of the downtown shopping district. It has a bandstand, playground, and a picturesque bridge over the little stream that leads to the pond.
A number of wild and domestic ducks called this pond home. People would come with their little kids to feed the ducks or fish in the pond. This was before they found out feeding the ducks in the pond caused a fatal bacteria growth in the stagnate water which killed most of the ducks and necessitated dredging the pond and attempting to improve the water flow. Anyway before all this happened the park could be a very busy place. Especially on one of the first days of spring.
I walked to the park with a friend. We were strolling around, checking out the guys and trying to look cool.
A group of boys was hanging out by the pond tormenting the ducks so we casually strolled to the vicinity and stood on the rocks around the pond's edge eyeing them. Remember I said we were trying to look cool. That ended with a splash as I lost my balance and fell into the pond. To make it even worse (How could it possibly be worse?), I expected the pond to be deeper than it was so when my feet hit the bottom I further stumbled and fell full length into the scummy water making a second, even larger splash.
Laughter erupted from the boys and "Boy was my face red".
I sqooshed home, my teeth chattering because although it was spring it was still nippy, especially if you were wet. To add insult to injury my friend refused to lend me her sweater even though I promised to wash it before returning it. I will never forget that day.
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