Observations

Fecal Matter

Did he really post this picture here? Why did he do that? Why did he have to choose that title? Is he trying to gross us out? Why can’t all of his blog postings be wholesome family oriented pictures?

Now that we are dog owners (technically my son is the owner), I take seriously the various roles I have when walking the dog….

I can’t let him attack anybody
It is better I lose circulation in my arm then lose control of the dog
I try not to let him drink too much from the puddles and other assorted points where water collects along the path
As much as it depends on me, I try to only let him go to the bathroom in places where it is not too inappropriate. If he does a #2, whether inappropriate or not, I am responsible for cleaning it up.
Once I clean it up, it is my responsibility to get the bag and its contents to a trash can. Putting the bag weighed down with doggy doo on display because you are too dainty to carry it is not a compromise—it is an abdication of your responsibilities as a pet owner.

If you are not going to pick it up and dispose of it, then you need to get your dog fitted with a cork. Cleaning it up and leaving it this way is just a slight bit better than letting your dog go in a neighbors yard without picking it up at all. If you are too dainty to haul your dog’s deposits until a trash can presents itself, you should either choose a new path OR have your wife who is less squeamish in these matters walk with you. Would you change your babies diaper and expect someone else to clean up after you? Maybe you should get a little pouch for your dog to wear- his/her bag or two of debris can be stored there until you find a trash can. If you can’t talk on your cell phone, walk you dog and carry the poop simultaneously, then maybe you ought to consider walking a virtual dog who only creates virtual poop.

DIY Hail Protection

As my wife and I ran a couple of errands last night, we noticed the bank drive thrus and other related areas with overhangs were filled with parked cars. It didn’t take too much thinking to realize this was how many drivers attempted to provide hail protection for their cars that would not fit into their garages. O, if they were working, they just chose to park strategically.

Fortunately, no hail came along. Having heard multiple stories recently of cars being fixed after hail damage only to be hail damaged again, it is quite clear hail shows no favoritism. As I Skyped with a friend this morning, he jokingly suggested a product be created to defeat the affects of hail. A quick Amazon search showed a hail protection product (out of stock) that performed this task admirably. After suffering the disappointment of having a low-cost product already existing to prevent hail calamities, ideas for volcano, hurricane and sink hole protection were also rejected.

As I was in the last third of my walk today, I noticed how somebody used landscaping items to build their own hail protection system. Since we received no hail in our part of Texas, it could be said it worked perfectly. Somehow a moving blanket and bags of top soil (notice the one bag that slipped off the front) achieved the goal. Or, the minimum effort on the part of the homeowner gave them enough peace of mind to allow them to sleep well despite the thunder, wind and other possible weather perils the storm front potentially offered. And, if I knew 6 bags of top soil would guarantee me a great night sleep, I would make that purchase every time!

Life Mystery

Yesterday, both my daughter and my wife informed me the girls would not be having softball practice today. I thought that was a little odd. The coach is pretty hardcore about practicing. Even if the coach used running during practice time to remind the team not to make so many errors, she rarely gives up a practice UNLESS the weather is working against her.

As I show up at the regular “no practice” pickup time, my youngest daughter comes out without her books or anything. She let me know the reason practice was cancelled. It turns out one of the fathers of a girl on the team had committed suicide over the weekend. I won’t say I took this hard, but it certainly does make one wonder what brings a person to this point. Prior to last Saturday’s game, I believe the dad had attended nearly every game. We had talked quite a bit while watching our girls play.

He genuinely had a good heart. At one of the games, he bought a packet of M&Ms. He shared a few with me. He usually stood behind the bleachers and leaned on them. I was usually sitting on the second row from the top. He would just talk about his softball exploits, or his time with his daughter, or whatever other random thing a middle aged dad might think to say. He was probably less odd than me….but this still left plenty of room for him to my left. I wasn’t the only one he talked to–he seemed to enjoy being social as he roamed the back of the bleachers talking to whoever would listen or had a thought to share.

Just last Saturday I was talking to the mother of the girl. During the games I attended, the parents interacted and seemed to get along. There did seem to be some distance, but I never was bold enough to ask the specifics. Last Saturday, the mother was talking about shopping for groceries. In context, it was appropriate to ask who she buys them for. (I believe the specific point was with bananas.) She said, “I only buy for myself and my daughter.” It was at this point I was certain they were divorced, and they played nicely for the sake of their daughter.

Last night, my daughter made both my wife and I promise we would never end our lives in such a sudden way. We assured her we would not. The mystery of why someone would end their life in such an immediate way puts me at quite a loss. Relationships are not always as smooth as you would like. Finances can also be a source of frustration. I have found that no matter how badly things may go the only consistent comfort comes from knowing God put you on this planet for a purpose. If you are still asking that question, then God still has a purpose to reveal to you. When hope dies, the heart often follows.

Triple Red

When you are a double red donor, it does take longer than giving whole blood. A double red donation involves having the blood pumped from your body. The blood is put thru a centrifuge. The centrifuge removes the red blood cells. What is left, minus the white blood cells, are put back into your body. (Note the “Return” on the image.)

Prior to the trip my son and I are taking next week, I wanted to get my “Give Blood” card punched. The closet Carter Blood Care office is not open on Thursday and Friday, so Monday was the day. When I called they offered me an appointment OR a “come right in and take your chances no one will get there ahead of you.” I did not even get the chance to sit down and wait when I arrived. After reading the literature, they moved me right into the pre-screening room.

This is the room where you can lie (or tell the truth) before being told they won’t be able to take your blood today. The person helping me today was very nice. She did, however, admit to having a vein fetish since she starting working there. She claims she could not go into social settings or spend time with loved ones without trying to see if they had good veins for giving blood. (When giving blood, these veins are typically on the inner elbow.) My two cups of coffee made my blood pressure higher than I wanted. I was not disqualified yet. After she confirmed my blood was “thick” enough for a double red donation (instead of giving every 8 weeks, double red donors give every 16 weeks. They give “double” the amount of red blood cells given by whole blood donors. ) Since it has been over 4 months since I had given blood, the pre-screening questions had changed a little. They are now digging into Zika and whether you may have had contact. They are also tracking whether people have had an endoscopy within the past few months. (The screener had no good explanation why they are doing this. She said neither a “yes” or “no” answer here would throw an error code and prevent you from giving. Answering wrong to the HIV questions, would keep you from donating on that day….or ever.) It was also new for the screener to stay in the room while I answered the questions. Apparently, an “efficiency expert” (she literally told me they had been evaluated to make them run better.) had told them too much time was being wasted by potential donors waiting on staff. Today, things kept moving very nicely.

As I moved to my donor station, I met the nurse (not exactly sure of her official medical designation) who would be “taking care of me”. (In restaurants now, the waitress often says, “My name is Peaches. I will be taking care of you.” The nurse did offer me a drink, but I don’t see the waitress taking my blood….unless I had a really rare type of blood and I was part of some criminal organizations plans to acquire massive amounts of my blood type.) Her name was “Duchess”. While she played nice with me during the entire donation, I don’t think we ever really clicked. It may have been me jokingly offering to give a “triple red” (they don’t do this. It was an obvious attempt on my end to inject humor into a relationship that was not salvageable.) OR her getting irritated with her supervisor looking over her shoulder and “causing” her to make mistakes as she set everything up for my donation OR incessant rambling as I couldn’t help but comment on every part of the double red process. Whatever it was, she outwardly smiled while counting the minutes until I would be gone. (I teased her as the equipment adding 2 minutes to the time of my donation. It started saying I would be done at 10:34. When I was done, it was at 10:36. She didn’t even like the tangent I had about a GPS giving you a certain time when you will get to your destination. As you speed along, the GPS predicts you will get there more quickly. When you make potty/gas/food stops, the goal is to still get to your destination ahead of the first time predicted by the GPS–no time to eat outside of the car.) After the needle was removed, she elevated the donor bed, and she had me spewed into the snack area.

The final stop when they are convinced you are capable of walking under your own strength is the snack bar. I felt obligated to have a Gatorade and some chex mix. (I did grab a bag of peanut butter cookies for my oldest daughter – actions speak louder than words when your kids are teenagers.) The receptionist is never uncomfortable asking multiple times if you are ready to schedule you next appointment. (Next double red would be 16 weeks or sometime last half of August) I kindly refused based on some excuse about, “Tough to schedule anything with school starting up around then.”

While I am glad I give blood, today made me a little gladder. I felt treated like a customer who is there voluntarily to do something I am not getting paid for. Despite the fact Duchess and I didn’t click, I felt “fast-tracked” to the donor station. Although there were easier things to get done and marked off my list today, this is always one I can mark off knowing my list isn’t all about me.

Should We Bark At Him?

After watching my son run the Oklahoma City Marathon, the departure from Oklahoma City and 3+ hour drive had to occur. While grateful to my wife for shouldering the driving, there is very little about being a passenger during a car ride that makes you feel athletic. Sometimes I will read while riding, but my desire and comprehension was off today. So, the only thing that would really cure what was ailing me was a walk down my familiar path once we got home.

Everything was fine until I got to the bridge. Some young “ruffians” (not really, but they certainly did not seem to want to give up much of the bridge to an old man who goes out dressed THAT way) barely navigated their bikes past me before I got to the other side. And, on the other side were the collie-like twin dogs that have been voted mostly likely to “bark the fear out of you”–especially if you are walking a dog of your own. Their barking then starts a chain reaction for the next few yards.

Today, I passed their house with no leash or reason to carry one. While the dogs seemed to be relaxing, I was almost positive I heard one of the dogs say out of the corner of my ear, “Should we bark at him?” As an active believer in encouraging my imagination to stretch itself whenever possible, I explored the possibilities of whether one of them actually said this before assuming I heard things incorrectly. Once I “killed” the imagination and accepted the most logical reality, I tried to see if the ruffians were nearby playing, “Let’s see if my ventriloquist routine can get the old man.” If it was not the ruffians, the other reality is one I am choosing to only embrace in a positive way–there is a positive way, right?

Little Bit Late

As we started the day, we knew it would be a busy one. My daughters had a softball game at 10. And, following this, we were heading up to Oklahoma City for one night to see my youngest son run in a marathon. (His first and last….?) While I like to stay a little busy, I like to do it mainly in one place with all of my “things” nearby. My wife says, “It will be good for you to stretch yourself.” My retort of, “I am getting to old to become too limber.”, goes unsaid.

The day did start pleasantly. No alarm (but I don’t generally sleep in), and no dress code, so t-shirts were welcome. While we were supposed to give ourselves 40 minutes to get to their game, by the time we were loaded up, had removed my work over-worked wife from the guest list, and snacks were all packed, we were off only a few minutes late. The sky was gorgeous. The morning air was pleasant. And, the “low tire pressure” light came on.

In some cars and households, this would be written off as an anomaly. Were I you, I would probably have done the same thing. While I may be getting old, I don’t quickly forget the previous times this light has visited an otherwise “nice” day. There was the post cruise drive home from Houston. Where shortly after leaving the boat, the tire decided it wanted to take its vacation right then. There was the drive up to Ohio where after fighting a crazy night of rain, we were grateful for a cloudy but “sprinkley” morning. The light came on with me behind the wheel. My wife said, “It is probably okay.” but the pothole said, “Not so quick.” Despite the delays caused by these issues, AAA was there both times.

As I am running late and seeking wisdom on the issue, I opt to check the tires and avoid the possible scolding for being late. I pull into the QT (I avoid getting a drink now–I will hope to get one after dropping my daughters off.) and am grateful the hose seems to have all the right parts to fill my tires. I pull each of the hubcaps off prior to using the gauge previously tucked away in my glove compartment. (When tires are not your friend, the gauge is.) I would love NOT to tear the hubcaps off, but the gauge and air hose will not seal correctly if I don’t. All tires checked out but one…it was at 29 PSI…not the recommended mid 30’s. A couple quick burst of air and a confirmation from the gauge told me I was good.

Am I overly paranoid for even stopping and checking it out? Maybe. Are we the victims of our own past and forever held fully or partially captive by our past experiences? In my case, definitely. Am I glad I didn’t ramble on to my daughters endlessly about the dash light and all that was going on in my head prior to stopping? Yes. Let them play their game and let me be the adult trying to look out for them as long as I can

Other Side Of The Leash

Prior to our house becoming a “dog” house, my sympathy for leash bearers with bipeds trailing behind them was not great. I thought, “Poor doggie. He is locked up all day. He just wants a little time to be free and do what God made him to do.” As I continue to give our dog walks (I told my son I am Plan B or C. He is Plan A.), I do notice more dog habits and how the relationship of those on both ends of the leash might possibly be misunderstood.

The dog wants a firm hand. It is his job to attempt to dictate the speed of the walk and the distraction along the way. If he sees and/or smells a squirrel, it is the job of the biped to prevent the dog from dragging him off the paved sidewalk and into the bushes. If a small child or a trusting adult, says, “What a beautiful dog! Can I pet him?”, it is the bipeds job to determine on whether this is presently or EVER a good idea. If in the case of our dog, the dog likes to walk with a “pull toy” in their mouth, it is the bipeds job to pick up the toy when it is dropped. Our choice, however, is whether we accommodate the dog’s side glance with mouth open as a valid invitation to “help” us carry the toy yet again. After playing the game multiple times within a 100 yard stretch, the toy seems to fit in our hands better than it fits in his mouth.

The biped wants to take a walk without the leash wearing calluses on their hands. When a standard leash is WAY to long to trust the quadruped with the range it permits, the leash is wrapped multiple times around the bipeds hand/wrist/arm/hand-of-other-arm. As the walking pace is set, there is a constant need to “encourage” the dog to not smell all scents to their source. On the occasion (these occasions are many) when the dog needs to relieve himself, the biped finds his leash tugging is ignored. The pause is brief unless the “little green bag” needs pulled out to gather the pieces of fertilizer awarded to the yard of one of our neighbors. The biped does feel varying levels of guilt as the quadruped attempts to outrun the leash. As the leash tightens on the dog’s neck, biped can walk/run faster to prevent the neck from being restricted OR they can choose not to look down and see the leash’s tauntness. (Alternatively, the collar could be swapped for more of a harness style. It would allow the tauntness of the leash to force the dog to turn to the side instead of being allowed to forge ahead while fighting for leash-restricted air.)

While we waited many years to get a dog and the accompanying leash, I have been surprised how the family has taken to the challenge. The walks may be shorter than the dog desires and less frequent than we believe appropriate. The quadruped may give us the more mature puppy dog eyes when we fail to properly attend to his needs in the time frame he prefers. The creature on the other side of the leash has become yet another instrument God has used to help us learn the lessons better experienced than read.

Damp Damage

In Texas, spring brings rains. While it is good to focus on the refilling of the water reservoirs, the excessive rains produce the inevitable flooding. And, my wife has found running after the dog when there is so much moisture in the air can be quite “dampening” to her clothing. Unfortunately, when the rains settle in for a week or so, the humidity and overall dampness elevates a couple of “normal” things to near life threatening.

Yesterday, as I was driving my daughters to school, I was grateful the rain had stopped…..if not completely stopped, just a light mist. It was so light I had turned off the windshield wiper. As I drove west on a 3 lane city street, I was in the far left lane. Right after clearing a set of train tracks, the road had a low spot. My lane was completely water free, but the car to the right of me had a different path. As he hit the low spot, my windshield was deluged with massive (when you are driving at 40 mph, any amount of water preventing safe visibility is WAY to much) amounts of water. I was trying to keep the car in my lane until I remembered where the windshield wiper switch was at. The girls gasps in the back seat elevated the pressure slightly. Instincts were still operating so what seemed like 5 seconds was likely only a fraction of one. The rapidly cleared windshield allowed the the “daughter delivery” to take place without incident. (This morning following another night of rain, I was in the middle lane. The driver in the far right lane hit the low spot again. Very temporary panic was almost immediately replaced with full windshield visibility. I think I have the reflex practically automated now–like the hand on hot surface. Old dogs can still learn new tricks!!)

Last nights grilling of hot dogs and hamburgers nearly turned into an event where I lost my face. After scraping the cooking service of the grill, I lowered the lid of the grill. I turned all 4 burners on and hit the “starter” button a couple of times. After hearing the clicking sound a couple of times without hearing the “whoosh-like” sound of the flames claiming all of the fuel within the closed grill, I thought maybe the propane tank was out of fuel. As I thought about this possibility briefly, I starting smelling propane leaking out of the cracks in the grill. Although the smell should have immediately caused me to run OR turn off the gas, I did not. Almost immediately thereafter while I was lost in my thoughts, the major WHOOSH engulfed the grill. Flames temporary claimed the propane in the storage area below the grill. My utterance of an “Uhhhhh”, the display of what could only have been a look of horror with mouth agape, and rapidly backing up 5 steps (one more step would have taken me into the pool) even caused my daughter to open the back door to check on me. Since she never worries about me on the grill, I can only guess my outdoor exclamation penetrated the walls of the house with little loss of volume. While still mentally regrouping, it was good to know the 911 call would have gone out quickly should this adventure have gone a different direction.

As the meat was loaned to the grill to be ravaged there, I willingly sacrificed the hairs on my arms to its consuming desire. In retrospect, the grill igniter or other components were a little damp to immediately perform their required function. This pitfall of humidity was a new experience BUT one not quickly forgotten.

Web Footed World

Lots of tadpoles were seen last spring when the pond overflowed the sidewalk. He appears to be a little old to have been born last year. He appears to still be in full possession of his “frog legs”.

These are not real Canadian geese. Our eccentric neighbor (I don’t know them, but if I did this, I would understand if people called me eccentric) has these 5 fake geese out in their front yard. I have not been able to confirm it, but my daughters claim they move them around every couple of days. There is also the possibility they are like the angels on Dr Who–they only move when people are not looking at them.

The toad sat innocently on the path. Some of the very small pre-tadpoles were swimming in the area. Since he was along the edge, I hope the bicycles will not find him. The only rationale for choosing this place is a preference for sidewalk over pond muck—OR, he and Mrs. Toad are spatting.

Quite the little flock of ducklings. Momma was just out of view. (The two colors of water are caused by “our” dirty water colliding with the water from another part of the subdivision.) In some parts of the world, alligators might find baby ducks a good appetizer. There are no such creatures in the area to single-handedly wipe out the whole flock (One other walker counted them and thought there were 10 of them) ….well, if there were, it would take multiple mouthfuls.

The turtle seems to be very suspicious of any photographers. I took this shot with the hopes of getting one from a little closer. He “freaked” when he heard the Iphone take its picture, so this was as good as it got. While not sure if he is a snapping turtle, his inclination to jump when hearing the snap of the camera seems to be pretty conclusive proof.

The slower of the pair was stuck being the photogenic one. The ditch that services the neighborhood during times of rain abundance is happy to play host to the ducks, cranes and whatever other fowl needs a Birdie B & B to relax at.

I will admit to not knowing my turtles very well. My first guess is this is a baby snapping turtle (he did not seem nearly as jumping when I took the picture.). His present size was nearly identical to the turtles people used to have as pets. Do people still have turtles as pets? I thought they had some type of virus or something. Regardless, he posed before the recent rain evidenced in the toads picture.

The Young Ones Swarm

While waiting for my daughter’s softball game to start, we could not help but pause and watch the t-ball kids play. It seems whether playing soccer or t-ball or probably any other sport when kids in the 4-5 age range are involved, they pose extra challenges to coaches, referees and the fans.

The coaching staff is not sitting on the bench. Every one of them is out there on the field trying to keep the kids focused on the ball….at least at the point where the batter’s bat impacts the ball off of the tee.
It is expected the base runners will jump up and down on the bases. They will also wave at their parents in the stands. They may leave the base as they become distracted. One thing they rarely if ever need to worry about is being tagged out. “Force” outs seem to the only way you will get out. (Unless you hit the ball and forget to run to first base….then they may get tagged out.)
The coach of the team at bat needs to be very careful while putting the ball on the tee. Unexpected enthusiasm could make his head look like a ball on a tee.
The umpire is really a coach with an asterisk. In the brief time we were watching, I saw him pick up a player and move him to another part of the field. Not sure why…?
No kids are on the bench. And, no kids are in the outfield. Almost every square meter of the infield has a kid kicking up his required cloud of dust.
From the kids perspectives, getting an out is not the goal. Being the first one of the swarm to pounce on the ball is enough. If you get the ball first and make an effort to chase the base runner to the bag, your parents will probably buy you a Happy Meal.
Little kids in uniforms are kind of like when a person wears the uniform of the armed forces. The military person always looks brave. The kid just looks cute. There are pony tails (it was co-ed), neon cleats and ill fitting gloves. The batting helmets may not fit snugly and wobble a bit. They are wearing uniforms that are similar to those of major league teams but shrunk to 1/4 of their previous size. It almost gives the kids a “midget” like look. It brings a smile to your face to watch them!

If I watched more of their games, I am sure I would have noticed more. Not only did watching bring a smile, but it also brought back memories of a coach I knew 10 or 15 years ago who got the privilege of feeling the pride of coaching his own kids. And, maybe that was the best part of my brief time Saturday as a tee ball fan.

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy