It might be raining

but we are playing the meanest game of Find It.

If I see one more super cute baby animal

I am going to go into loving spasms of ecstasy and end up writhing straight into a black hole of tiny adorable oblivion.



These little dudes were under the tall pine tree. You know the one by the far end of the pond? No, not the cool one holding up the boulders with it's roots, the one right before that. Yeah. That one. They have a nice little shelter that has been dug out. I'm not sure their mother is still with them so I check on them every now and again just to make sure they're okay. If they show any signs of illness or starvation, you know I am taping their little tails to their back legs and taking them to the wildlife center. These people don't even know what I am capable of. The tail taping thing isn't a joke, I guess they can't spray you with their tail kept down. Works for me. These little guys know all about it too. When they see me, they get all nervous and one of them turns his wee little ass towards me with his itty-bitty tail straight in the air. Oh man. I can hardly stand it... so endearing. Then Jim comes over and everything goes to shit once he starts looking around for the attention getting baby prey. Also, he is not afraid of skunks and has been sprayed more times than I would like to admit. He was sprayed in the same night, by the same skunk, four times in a row. Back to back spray fest. It was one of the worst nights of my life. I now keep a bottle of skunk off on reserves. That shit just isn't funny. It's even less funny when it's about 2 in the morning and the only reason you are out is because you feel guilty for how much you have been away that day so you might as well take the dogs (who are not showing signs of being tired) to the local field to stroll around and show them you love them. In my face. Or more specifically, Jim's.

This no camera thing is getting stupid. I'm going to empty the pictures onto my desktop in a folder labeled "hoping for the best" and if I lose them all I don't care. Baby animals are aching for their chance with the lens. There are baby turtles all over the pond, baby skunks, baby birds, baby everything everywhere and I'm sitting here worried about losing a picture or two.

I found a job. It's going to take away from my time with nature but some things must be sacrificed up for sanity's sake. I think I am really going to enjoy this anyway...

The Snapper Delux!

Guess where I was today? That's right! The bogs! We were coming around the third bog area when what do I spy with my little eye? This dude gal-umping across the path from the smaller murky (and now slightly creepy) little pond under the trees by the entrance.



I have spotted him in the pond opposite of where Jimmy kills and Tabbie swims but apparently he gets around. I saw him and grabbed Jim because that is a sure fire vet visit. After trapping the dogs in the car, I went back where my mom was yelling to grab a stick and lets see if we can get him to bite through it. I was so in. Lucky you, I also grabbed my phone.

Side Note: No seriously, I have been keeping my camera in my car. The fucking day I take it out, I get what would have been a fantastic shot of this guy. I shit you not. I'm not amazed anymore. But still.

I tried and tried to get him to bite through the stick but the best I could get out of him was a very menacing stance and long drawn out pissed off hiss by poking him gently in his tender underside. He wasn't about to bite the stick but when you think about it, I bet he knows what a stick is. He was probably hoping I'd try rubbing his underbelly with my hand. Then I bet he would have tried breaking something. What a guy.

They were wrong about you Jimmy!

Today is obviously a procrastination day. But I give myself kudos for keeping my snarky comments toward my sister to myself (this is hard work for me, believe it), cleaning up a bit, flipping the compost pile and taking the dogs for a run/hunt at the bogs even though it is raining. I am that dog owner that even I dislike at times. Mostly when it's raining.

Tabitha and The James are two totally different dogs. He is a solid pillar of a dog that couldn't care less about what I am saying. She is a shipwreck, constantly in code red, focusing on me with rapt attention to the point where it can be unsettling. It's really helping with training though. I raised both dogs totally different. Jim got the semi knowledgeable exposed to anything and everything training. Tabitha got the pretty dog training savvy approach with limited exposure. Jim was raised in the crowded vibration of Boston where everything is a walk, bus ride or train ride away, everyone wants to meet your new puppy and dog socials are everywhere. Tabitha was raised in Phoenix where community is very lacking, nothing is walking distance and due to that you just use your car and ignore the bus system. Add to that the summer where no one/nothing goes outside for any reason (because they will quite literally drop dead from the heat) and you have some limited general public socializing time but tons of indoor training time. Also, when you use different techniques, everything changes. Jimmy will work for treats. Tabitha will do anything for a toy (this is the method I am sticking with as it's heavenly). So these two animals in my house are quite unlike one another. However, it is in ways that pretty much kick ass no matter how you cut it.

Anyway, we started going to the bogs and at first Jim ran amok here and there in the grass looking for land creatures to kill. Tabitha has always just wanted to play with her ball and I am so okay with that. We practice training while Jim practices the art of stealth. Poorly at that. After a while I felt bad for him and showed him frogs and sometimes I would egg him on and convince him he needed to find them and kill them. Every last one. All frogs must die. Well, I got all cocky the other day and said, "He's not fast enough. He'll never catch one." and followed it up with a mighty scream of HURRY JIM! GET THOSE FROGS!

I was so asking for it. That was the day he figured out he was moving to fast and they were jumping out once he had past by. The next thing you know, he's moving super slow and really focusing and then smashing a huge frog to death with his muzzle. I don't know if I have told you, but Jim does not kill things by putting them in his mouth. No no, biting gets you in trouble and he takes this rule very seriously. First he catches it by scooping it towards him with his feet and giving it one good pound with his muzzle. Then he holds the broken little creature under his paws and proceeds to crush them to death by essentially head butting them with the front of his tight lipped muzzle. It's brutal to say the least and I cringe every time I watch him but end up cheering in the end because he's always so proud of his victory.

Frogs pop. Did you know that? Apparently, one good whack can make their to tight body burst wide open. Jim is a frog popping machine. It makes our bog trips a little less exciting and a little more exciting. For once he's doing something and wagging his tail the entire time. Total 100% bliss. When I consider that, I can handle the fact that the frog population is going to suffer this year. A happy Jim is a happy JH. So long as I have one dog that will sit and stay, the other can murder away. It's a fair trade.

Working out is painful good for you OR Lopsided flirtatious belly

For the longest time I refused to work out. Well hold on. When I was in school I worked out. In the morning I ran as hard as I could until I didn't think I would be able to run back without collapsing and then I turned back for home. I did this stairmaster thing for about 20 minutes and then I would swim 50 laps minimum. It was excessive but it was either that or get in even more trouble in school. A tired student is a good student. ADHD paired with OCD keeps you in bad ass shape. You could have bounced a quarter off my ass like a perfectly made bed.

Then I stopped working out and instead took jobs like landscaping the grounds of an entire family apartment site (biking back and forth to said place of employment), grooming dogs (which is pretty physical work all said and done) or walking dogs (speaks for itself and when you add all the flights of stairs it becomes a fabulous work out). So the need to torture myself prior to starting the day waned and I just killed myself during the day instead. I have always found that preferable as there is usually a check involved.

Once in AZ for the summer months I had to do something. I hate hate hate lifting weights. It doesn't make me feel good at all. My brain can't even appreciate it. So I started looking for something that I could do that would pacify my head and give my body a nice tough going over. I chose pilates. I am repulsed by the idea of gyms (I won't get into it) so I tried DVD after DVD with not much success. They were either way to easy or just plain boring. There was the one where you did a little dance routine on your pilates ball. I can't help but wonder if it was a good workout but I couldn't get past how ridiculous I felt using my ass to "dance" and swing my hips on this huge rubber ball to this super corny tropical wonderland music. I don't want to pretend I suddenly found shame, I'm just saying.

Then I convinced Mr. F to get a pilates ball and work out with me. I have to give him credit. Working out on a pilates ball has to feel just as gay as riding around town on a bicycle built for two. But being the good sport he is, he agrees and we run out to get a pilates ball so he can join me in my quest for fitness. Well doesn't the one he chooses come with a DVD? Enter Lynda Leene. She's attractive and cheerful and does the type of workout that makes you feel like you are not quite struggling even though I still can't finish a couple of the sets. It's a full body work out and you're in just enough pain the next day that you know it's working, but not enough to make you want to stop. And I saw improvement in two weeks. Beat that. You can't. Add ten pound weights to the whole thing and it's unbeatable get ready for swim suit season wholesome fun. Add Mr. F who is agreeing that it's a great work out. This is coming from a guy who is in peak physical condition and uses his home gym daily regardless of how he feels. So pilates is the way to go for several logical reasons. Works for me.

I slacked for a little while and just got back into the whole fitness regime. I ache. Today I figured I would cheat on Lynda and just do a little yoga. 40 minutes later I realize yoga is just a fucking hard as pilates and the reason I thought it was easier is because I am simply working out different muscle groups. Now that I am finished I also realize I worked them just as hard as I have been working on the other "resting" ones. I know I should feel great about this. I know I should be all oooo a work out I can do when I take a breather from Lynda pleasantly kicking my ass. I am. Kind of. But it hurts damn it. I would rather just wake up for the rest of my life looking like a bomb shell without having to do anything to maintain said bombness. Although, if I am going to torture myself in the name of physical perfection, it would be super great to have someone here with me to listen to my pussy comments and whining noises while holding the warrior 3 pose and focusing on my breathing. I don't want to brag, but I am getting great at the one where your hands are at heart center and while standing on one foot, you bring your other leg up as far as you can over your back without falling over. Bring it.


I feel like this would be a good time and I might make it a goal

I'm off to flip the compost pile and hopefully not have that one last physical exertion rip my arms off my body. Thank you yoga. Thank you Lynda. Thank you body for showing me who is boss. And it's not pastries. Pastries are boss next week when my bitchiness will reign supreme over everything regardless of how much I pound on myself.

Growing is healthy

My mom is constantly talking about starting a garden. She has been for a very long time now. Along the side of the house that gets the most sun. Wouldn't it be wonderful to grow our own food? Then we wouldn't have to worry about eating who knows what from places like Mexico and Chile. And gardening is therapeutic, did you know that? With produce being so expensive it really only makes sense don't you think? And so on and so forth...

Doesn't she go out to the side yard the other day and weed a rectangular patch, forcing me to take her kind of seriously. Then there were all these vegetables waiting on the back deck to be placed in the ground and the belief system became even more steady. Next thing you know, there are clouds in the sky and she has a sad face on talking about wanting to plant the vegetables before it rains. I got the shovel and ho to till the land while she followed behind me planting the veggies.



I ended up lending her a hand with the planting since running about half naked in the sun while playing with the dogs was less fun with her sweating, working all hard and what not. Besides, she was so pumped about the whole thing, the idea of working in this new growth system was infectious. We gardened for about five hours. We got to experience some fun stuff during that time starting with some serious mother daughter bonding. An incredibly beautiful black swallowtail butterfly paid us a visit.
Cut worms and grubs (gives a whole new meaning to the word "grubby" eh?) were thrown into a coffee cup of doom and later emptied into the bird feeder of doom. This little female cowbird came down and bee bopped around the freshly turned earth caring very little she had two humans near her. There were moments that I swear, my mom could have reached out and touched her and got nothing but a relaxed good day to you friend or something equally as cheerful. We threw some worms to her for her amicable spirit. You can't beat a nonchalant wild bird attitude.

Today I went off to good old Lowes and picked up a soaker hose and some Liquid Fence as the rabbits here are not fucking around. Here's the fabulous finished product:

Front view!


Back view!


Here's what our happy little garden doth grow: broccoli, Big Boy Tomatoes, Better Boy Tomatoes, Pink Girl Tomatoes, cucumbers, chives, green onions, basil, chocolate peppers, freckles romain lettuce, rosemary, parsley, Ambrosia Mellon.

Once the rain stops, the liquid fence will be liberally applied. We're not fucking around either. There are people out there who are not fucking around waaaaay more seriously than we are. I looked up how to deter rabbits. One chick swears by barbed wire, saying that once you see blood and hair all over it you can take it down and not worry about rabbits for a long time. A dude wrote in saying that lead poisoning was the way to go and followed that up with a rabbit stew recipe, which got me thinking. I still need to practice my snaring technique.

Perception

If I took all my angers and hurts, every single life issue, trials and tribulations, all of my celebrations and happiest moments of my entire existence, and handed them to someone else, they wouldn't mean even half as much as they mean to me. They might not mean anything at all. Not because they don't care, but because it isn't theirs. They simply don't know.

Isn't that wild? I can't even wrap my head around it.