Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Misty eyed

Last night a blogger friend had to let a wonderful, sweet, lovable sheltie-girl named Misty go free.  Though we all knew Misty was having some health issues, she’d rallied lately…and we hoped with all our hearts that she’d see another spring.  But it wasn’t to be.

I didn’t go online this morning like I usually do, to visit  blogs while I eat my breakfast; maybe I knew that things might not be going well in Misty’s world…or maybe I was just extra busy.  So it was at work that I began to wonder how Misty was doing, checked Sara’s blog and immediately began to cry.

I never got to meet Misty in person, but she will always have a small part of my heart.  I’m glad she got to go on that great vacation with her brother Oreo (the sheltie-maniac) and her folks this past summer, to spend time along the ocean, sniff the beautiful hydrangeas, take a boat ride.

I’ll always remember the tricks she did, especially the circus elephant, and the way she ran with Oreo through the agility courses Sara set up in the back yard.  I remember someone telling Sara that Misty was a distraction to Oreo when he was in training, and that she should be put inside.  Well maybe she was a distraction but I’m glad now that she got to run and jump as much as she wanted to.

And all this thinking about the beautiful blue merle Misty-girl makes me think about how the world has changed with social networking; how most of us would never have met Misty and her family, would never have laughed out loud at video clips of her trying to do figure eights between her Mom’s legs, or sigh with her in contentment when she found a sunny spot in the yard.  Most of us would never have delighted in her attempts to figure out the latest game or trick, or smiled at her patience when her crazy brother Oreo jumped over her and then back again trying to win a treat if we hadn’t had been lucky enough to be able to read Sara’s blog.

And when the news isn’t so happy, when it makes your heart break and the tears run down your cheeks at work, you might be tempted, for an instant, to withdraw from this blogger world…because you just  become so attached, and being attached leaves you open to feeling such sadness.  But as another blog friend Ellen has said…if you work or live or play in the dog world you’re going to get your heart broken…the more dogs you know, the more dogs you’re going to miss someday.  She’s right.  But she’s also right when she reminds us that it’s all worth it.

So…Misty-girl.  I’m going to miss you.  So much.   I can’t even begin to imagine how your Mom and Dad are feeling tonight.  And poor little Oreo must be so confused.  But even though I’m getting all misty-eyed again,   I have to say that you were worth it.  I’d get to know you all over again if I could.  Even knowing that we’d all have to say goodbye too soon.

Be happy Misty.  Go find Munchkin.  None of us will ever forget you.  And thanks to your Mom for sharing you with us.  Sweet girl.


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Purple memories

Today is the 2 year anniversary of the death of a young woman, killed when a tire flew off of a truck and smashed through the windshield of her car.  She was driving on the beltway near Washington DC, on her way to a doctor’s appointment because she was pregnant with her first child.  She and her unborn child were killed instantly.

Channing’s mother Tracy has become a friend of mine; she’s someone I never would have met if it weren’t for our common tragedy.  A couple of days ago Tracy emailed to remind us all of the anniversary coming up and to ask us to wear purple, Channings favorite color, in her honor today.

All day long Channing has been on my mind.  And as the TV and radio celebrate the 50th anniversary of Kennedy’s inaugural it occurred to me that two years ago was President Obama’s inaugural.  And that Channing was driving in Washington DC on that historic day.  That she died on that historic day.  Somehow that made the loss worse, though I don’t know why.  To die on a day of such excitement and expectation seems so wrong.  Of course it all seems so wrong.

All day long today I noticed other people wearing purple.  People who didn’t know Channing’s story, people that don’t even know my story.  And each time I caught a glimpse of purple I thought of her, and the waste of potential that is her loss.

Tonight I’ll be emailing Channing’s mom, offering her my condolences, and knowing it isn’t enough.  Knowing that nothing will ever  be enough.

Here’s to Channing’s family today.  May they be comforted that we haven’t forgotten her, and that her spirit lives with us all.


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An evening with 7th graders

Sometimes I am just so privileged.  Tonight I got to spend a couple of hours in the company of amazing musicians, some of whom are barely teenagers.

The community band I play with did a joint concert with 150 of the county’s finest youngsters, all in 7th grade.  Both of our groups had been snowed out for scheduled Christmas concerts, so we quickly pulled together some holiday generic music and …as they say…made sure the show went on.

The two 7th grade bands played before us.  And as I sat in the audience it was as if I was transported back to a time when I was 12 or 13, playing in a concert band, looking out at the bright lights trying to find my parents in the audience.  Tonight as I watched the kids playing it was as if I could see into the past and pick out my best friend playing trumpet, the guy always goofing off in the trombone section, the oboe player a year older than me.

It struck me that these kids looked just like we looked more than 40 years ago.  Tonight, sitting there in the dark listening to the music, I thought about how very little school bands and kids have changed.  Hairstyles may be different, but in their black and white outfits these kids looked just like we did in the late 60’s.

Tonight there were  150 kids up there playing their hearts out just like we did years ago.  And here we were in the audience getting ready to play our own hearts out; in wrinkled clothes we’d worn all day at work, our glasses smudged, our faces showing a bit of wear, but still, playing our hearts out.

And I wonder what those 7th graders thought as they listened to us.  Do they know how soon they too will be middle aged musicians playing in a community band?  Could they guess that they will turn around and suddenly they’ll be watching 7th graders performing and remembering it all as if it were yesterday?  Probably not.  We didn’t.

On my drive home under a full moon I thought about the continuity of life.  How there will always be 7th graders playing for their parents.  Long after I can’t make a sound with my clarinet there will be kids picking up an instrument  for the first time.  And long after I’m gone there will still be auditoriums packed with people, standing room only like we had tonight, letting those kids know how truly special they are.

Music makes the magic continue.  And there’s a real comfort in that.


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Katie's adventure

Katie here.  Mom said I could tell you all about yesterday’s adventure.  You see my Dad was down in the basement…did you know there was STUFF under the FLOOR?…and he was making too much noise so I was telling him off.  A lot.  Finally my Mom said “lets go for an adventure”  And I said “REALLY? Can we GO NOW?”

I wasn’t sure where we were going.  I don’t think Mom was sure either.  But eventually we ended up in the town where she grew up.  That’s about an hour away and I was really good about not asking if we were there yet.

We parked near the public library where my Mom used to go all the time as a kid.  As usual she made me pose in front.  Geesh!

There was lots of traffic on the busy road in front.  That made me a little nervous as Mom and I haven’t practiced walking near noisy cars in a long time.  But I was OK as long as I could look back and see my Mom was still attached to me by her leash.

Right across the street was the church where my Mom and Dad got married.  Guess who had to sit around while Mom took more pictures?

We walked around the church block and found this house with a BIG red cat in the window.  Mom thought the cat was ceramic, but it started glaring at me when we got too close.  Can you see it?

Mom says she’s sorry, she has a new computer and no program on it to crop pictures…so you’ll have to use your imagination for awhile till she finds some software…

Anyway, after the big mean cat hissed at us…I mean after I took care of business with the big red cat …we headed back to the car, and since I wanted to practice my stair climbing we walked up the steps to the library and then down the ramp back to the car.  Just before the steps was a beautiful sculpture of two children reading.  Mom wanted me to sit next to them and smile for the camera.  But there was a pesky squeaky door at the top of the stairs that needed to be monitored by me.  Just to be sure.

I was a very good dog all the way home, another hour car ride.  I slept most of it, but I didn’t let on that I was asleep…so as not to give my Mom the satisfaction of thinking she wore me out.  I just nodded off with my head bobbing.

Mom says we might go on another adventure today.  Cause Dad’s not finished with his project under the floor.

Can we go NOW Mom?


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Wandering

Katie’s dad is doing something noisy in the basement while getting ready for an insulation contractor who is coming next week.  Katie’s not so good about remaining her normal rational self when there are strange noises coming from below her feet.  So we went on an adventure.

Katie will tell you about where we went and what we saw in another blog; what I wanted to share with you today is the happenstance of chance.  How sometimes just a bit of odd luck brings you to an interesting moment.

Because as Katie and I were wondering down a country road I happened to see this:

No matter that the temperature outside was 16 degrees F, the sky was gray, and there was a steady stream of cars going by only feet from her easel; here was a woman standing in a driveway of an abandoned home painting.

As soon as I could I turned around to go back.  As I approached her from the other direction I noticed the beautiful red barns across the road.  Obviously her inspiration.

I parked the car and walked back to her, letting her know I didn’t want to startle her, but could I please see what she was working on?  She giggled and said she wasn’t very good, had just started painting…but her work was very nice.  She was painting with oils, and I asked her how they worked in such cold weather.  She said it was a bit more difficult, the paint was a bit stiff, but that last weekend she had been painting out at Kensington (a park) when it was only 8 degrees.  EIGHT?  Are you kidding me?  You were out paining in 8 degree weather?  She talked about how the snow falling mixed in with the oil paints and caused some problems.  Yea. I bet!

Anyway I asked if I could take her picture, and she hesitantly said yes.  This is the first time I’ve ever asked a stranger if I could take their picture.  But I wanted this photo so bad.  She in her red beret, the gray day, the snow boots, the easel.

So here she is.

I left her after a bit more chatting.  Her feet were getting cold.  My ears were freezing.  Katie was waiting in the car.  Such an unexpected encounter –  I hope I meet her again somewhere.   I left with a smile on my face.

And I hope she was smiling too.


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Weekends with Katie

Last weekend Katie helped me pack up Christmas.

She wasn’t very comfortable with all these boxes on the sofa, especially since they made funny noises when I put ornaments in them.

But she was curious enough to come back and sit on the sofa and watch each time.  She didn’t, however, provide much advice about how to get all the ornaments packed away.

This weekend Katie helped me fill the bird feeders.

She thought this was a lot more fun.

Then we went out into the back yard to play.

That was the most fun of all.

She’s napping now.  All this work wears a Sheltie out.


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New photo challenge

Scott, over at his blog Views Infinitum, has challenged photographers to do a food photo shoot; to photograph food in a manner that makes your stomach growl with longing, your mouth water, your nose twitch in the hope of catching the scent.

I’ve taken pictures of food.  Usually when I’m somewhere eating something outside my comfort zone.  Like when I was in New York City eating Indian food at a neighborhood buffet.  I had no idea what anything was, but it all looked interesting.

Or the time I was eating at the American Indian museum in Washington DC.  I picked out several items, each from a different Indian tribe or region.  It didn’t necessarily go together, didn’t really make a meal, but it was all good!

Then again sometimes I take a picture of food as part of a story, eating a meal prepared by my brother…

…or breakfast at a diner with a friend.

But none of these photos look like a photo shoot that belongs in a food magazine.  So this is going to be a challenge.  Guess that’s why he calls it a “photo challenge” huh?

Anyone have any suggestions?


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Attention all Sheltie parents

For those of you with Shelties….Katie has been wondering what kind of food you’re feeding them, how much..and especially WHEN.  She gets a cup of her dry food about 12:30 in the afternoon…and she thinks it’s not nearly enough.  She is especially upset not to have anything first thing in the morning and just begs and begs.

So she’d like to know…is she being starved to death by an evil set of parents?  And how much should a 15″ (or so) Sheltie girl weigh anyway?