Word Inspiration

I look for inspiration for my writing in the little things. Most of the time it's there in front of me. Other times I have to go looking for it. Tonight I was catching up on my blog reading after being gone for a few days for my sister's wedding (more to come on this subject later), and I saw this awesome tool Amy found and posted on her blog. I had to try it out myself. What you see are the results of my first Wordle. I can see myself using this as a tool for inspiration in the future. Try Wordle. You'll like it.

Intestinal Fortitude

My Junior year in college I went on a cruise with 11 other girls to the Bahamas. It was a five-day, four-night cruise, full of the typical cruise-like behavior: drinking, over eating, drinking, sunbathing, drinking, flirting with boys, drinking, drinking and more drinking. You find out a lot about each other living in close quarters, even if it is just for a few days. One of the girls, Sharon*, who eagerly partook in the festive behavior throughout the week refused to go to go "number two" all week while we shared a bathroom. She called it "poop fear." I called it impressively painful.

I realized this weekend, as we walked the girls among hundreds of visitors to the Ocmulgee National Monument for the Ocmulgee Indian Celebration, Roxy may have the same poop fear that Sharon suffered from. In a dog, I think this is an admirable quality. It doesn't force me to walk around with a smelly bag, looking for a trash can. She politely holds it until we get home. When we travel, it's not an issue. She potties on a leash perfectly. But she has a sixth sense of knowing that there are 1000 people around watching her every move and she prefers to be more lady like.

And boy, were they watching our every move. The fall weather (anything under 85 degrees is considered fall in Georgia) had everyone outside, looking for something to do, so the festival was very crowded. Seka and Roxy were pretty much the only dogs there, and certainly the largest. We walked among the vendors, carefully keeping their noses and mouths away from the beautiful fur pelts that were on display. We really couldn't go more than about four or five steps without someone asking to pet them and as proud parents, we were certainly happy to show them off.

There were beautiful costumes, horses covered in tribal war paint, lovely beaded jewelry and amazing pottery on display. I guess I didn't think about the other Native American-oriented things that would be a part of the day, like drums and black power rifles, both of which were present and both of which almost ruined Roxy's day right from the start. But she pulled it together and was a big girl. Treats help calm your nerves when the thunder gods are chasing you.

Both girls enjoyed all the attention they received. Seka stood quietly and received her petting in true greyhound fashion. Roxy was a bit over stimulated at first. Even while sitting to receive her love, she whined a little. She got used to all the strangers loving on her pretty quickly, and after a little while she started seeking out love herself. I'm telling you, the girl's got a sixth sense. She could tell who was going to bend down and give her attention just by looking at them. She would suddenly sit down and wait for the approaching person, who I wasn't even looking at, to come up and ask me to pet her. It was really funny.

Seka proved that she does not suffer from poop fear. We couldn't even get out of the car before she was marking on everything. However, she did hold her poop until we got to the burial mound, so she could show everyone just how big and gross it could be. I've threatened her with getting a vest that has pockets on it to make her hold her own poop bags until we can find a trash can, but I don't think they make them with pockets big enough.

To end the day on a sweet note, we took the girls for an ice cream. They were so tired, they barely made it out of the car, but as soon as they got a whiff of the waffle cones, they got their second wind.

Maybe it was the four hours we spent out in the sun. Maybe it was lactose intolerance. Or maybe it was just the fact she was in the comfort of her own back yard, but as soon as we made it home, Roxy's display intestinal fortitude was over. It reminded me of Sharon when we stepped off the plane in Atlanta and she went running, no sprinting, to the ladies restroom. So much for her no public pooping rule.

*names have been changed to protect the constipated.

Ode to Opposable Thumbs

Oh, the appendages I dream of.
Flexible falanges of fate.
The key to unlock the secrets of the cookie jar.
My glass no longer able to hold hostage the bottom-dwellers.
Finger-licking,
Thumb-sucking,
Goodness.

Swamp Things

I've become obsessed with Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. I liken my new found love to that of the excitement everyone else seemed to have for Harry Potter - a fever of which I never caught. I couldn't understand why the world was so crazed about some boy sorcerer. But the story of an 18 year old girl who falls in love with a vegan vampire while maintaining her relationship with her best friend who just happens to be a werewolf, now that's intriguing.

I've never read a fantasy book until this four-book series, but I can't but them down. Like reading under the covers until 2 a.m., can't put them down. Who cares that these books were originally written for teenagers? I've totally created my Team Edward shirt and I will be wearing it at midnight on November 21 when the movie opens alongside all the other adult women who love this book as much as I do. Oh - I've also discovered a few great podcasts as well. OK, obsessed is a bit of an understatement.

Maybe my girls realized my sudden fondness for monsters. After all, they are the ones most annoyed by my late night under-the-cover reading (Kev's snores the whole time). We've just started back on our training regimen in preparation for fall lure coursing. I walk both girls on a 1.5, 2 or 3 mile trek every evening. The varied distance helps me to see how well their stamina is building up. We only do the short route once a week and the long one twice. Most evenings we do 2.5.

We typically walk in the evening around 7-ish. It's around 85 degrees by then. Sure it's still a sauna outside, but at least the sun isn't beating down on you. I got the bright idea on Saturday morning to take the girls out at 9 a.m. It wasn't all that hot out and somewhat overcast. What I didn't plan for the weather phenomena where the sun rises as the day gets goes on, burning off the clouds, and increasing the temperature ten-fold. So here we are, 2 miles in, GBD is about to croak from heat stroke (drooling really isn't her best look), we've slowed to a snail's pace and I'm wondering how many phone calls to the house it's going to take to get Kev to wake up and come and get us in the car.

And then the girls uncharacteristically pull me to their sanctuary - our neighborhood pond. It's rather large, but my two girls ran toward it like they had been swimming in it for years. We found a somewhat safe edge for them to wade into - Seka just gets in enough to lay down, while Roxy walks in all the way up to her chest instead of laying down in the water. After a 10 minute soak, they emerged covered in pollen, muck, dirt, algae, and who knows what else. Needless to say we went straight home, being chased by a swarm of bloodsucking mosquitoes the whole way (half a mile or so), so the girls could get a good rinse off with the garden hose.

Now on every walk my two swamp monsters want to take a dip, no matter the temperature. I remind them that the swamp is there only for emergencies and maybe for their Halloween costumes if they want to go as the Swamp Thing. However, I think they both would make really cute vampires.

Osmosis

I like hanging out with people who are smarter and more talented than I am. They are always way more interesting. They read interesting things. They've traveled to interesting places. They have interesting hobbies. I often find that I leave social experiences with smart people with a list of things to read, places to visit or things to try entered into my iPhone.

I consider myself lucky. I'm by far the lowest on the totem pole when it comes to IQ scores amongst the people I hang out with. I'm just glad they find me interesting enough to keep around so I can benefit from their brains. I've always hoped that by being around a subject genius, some of it will rub off on me. Learning by osmosis can't be a bad thing, right?

So you can imagine the excitement I had when I received an invitation from Jen and Denise to come up to Newnan for an all girls weekend. Jen is the greyhound Yoda in my book and Denise is a full blown horse whisperer. So needless to say when it comes to being around a couple of experts on two of my favorite subjects, I really couldn't have been in better company. We were never strained for conversation - between greyhounds, horses and whether Robert Redford was hot or not, you can really cover plenty of hours of chatter between three women. We always had something to laugh at or discuss. And there was plenty to celebrate!

In attendance for the weekend were six bitches: Seka and Roxy; Katie and Reagan; Peanut and Limo (the greyhound wannabe). Despite the crummy weather (thanks, tropical storm Fay), the dogs all frolicked in the pasture at Summerwind Farm, enjoying the opportunity to get extra wet and dirty.















Even Lester, the stud, even shared in the dreary play, kicking up his heels and showing us what he was made of.



This was a weekend of celebration and the weather wasn't going to put a damper on our spirits, even if it did sideline our pool plans. Peanut's adoption papers were officially signed by Denise and Matt on Sunday. This was a long road for both Peanut and Denise, but this tough girl seems to be a perfect fit for as much time as Denise spends at the farm. Celebrations require cake in my book, so I decided to make peanut butter carrot cake cupcakes to mark this important occasion. I guess you can see that Martha Stewart isn't one of my closest friends, as her genius hasn't rubbed off on me as of yet, but I'm always willing to give it the old college try. And besides, the dogs don't usually complain about my cooking.

Even with the distractions of consuming junk food and watching cheesy horse movies, my girls and I took away the following tidbits of knowledge from the weekend:

• My girls really don't know their names. Just because they look at me when I say it in the house, it doesn't mean they know what to do when I use it. We must work on our recalls so they can enjoy off lead time like Katie and Reagan at the next 9 bitch weekend.
• Roxy isn't really a pack dog. All the other dogs stayed together as they explored the 12 fenced in acres. Roxy had her own plan as to what was fun. I guess if the hyena came, she would be lunch. We need to work on her confidence.
  
• I want to work my dogs more. My girls are smart, they just don't have the opportunity to use their brains as much as I would like for them to.
• I'm going to let Clyde (that's my horse) play at liberty more. Lester looked so happy running and bucking and playing in the rain. This is totally on the docket for this week. Although, Clyde is a really low-key horse, so if he bucked at all, I'd be totally shocked.
  
• Despite my best attempts, I'm horribly inconsistent with what I let my girls get away with at home and this also filters into their manners in other people's homes. So to prevent Seka's nose from exploring party goers' awesome fruity drinks when they aren't looking, we've got to make sure she doesn't do this at home.
• Roxy has some relaxing to do. But I love her spunk even more.
  
• Seka really is the fun police. But loves to have fun on her own terms and if we ever lose that green ball, she might go into DTs.

I spend a lot of time with my pups every day - all day long, most days. But it took a weekend with two super smart chicks and their super smart pups to bring a lot of this to the surface. So beyond all the laughs, fun, extra calories and Elizabeth Taylor's horrible jumping skills in National Velvet, I learned so much from these awesome ladies in just a short amount of time and I can't wait to do it again soon. Osmosis, it's a good thing.

Graveyard Shift

My paternal grandparents owned a huge farm (100 or so acres) in the mountains of North Carolina. My father and his five brothers and sisters all had a hand in helping to tend the crops grown and animals raised. While visiting during the summer I always loved being a part of farm life and hearing my dad's stories about growing up there. But I was always most excited to sneak off and visit a quiet place set back on the edge of my Paw Paw Pipe's land - our family graveyard.

Plots of hand-dug graves dating back to the turn of the century, all marked with modest, hand-carved headstones, worn smooth from years of ice, wind and rain, sit in silent little rows at the rise of the valley. The cemetery is maybe a half acre of land, fenced in so the cattle won't trample it flat. From it's lowest point you are surrounded by a humbling view of the Blue Ridge mountains. It's where my great grandparents, grandparents, two aunts who died as children (which always fascinated me growing up) and my father are buried.

My cousins (most of whom are pictured to the right) and I went up there a lot just to play or hang out. One time when I was six or seven we went up to the graveyard, stayed too long and it got dark. We weren't scared, but our lengthy absence absolutely scared our parents, who must have thought a bear had eaten all of us. My father, my uncle Jack and some other "men folk" came looking the Williams gaggle of kids on the back side of the property and eventually found us playing in the graveyard. Everyone got to ride back to the house in the pickup truck - except me. My father decided to walk me back home, in the dark, with a switch (all you southern kids know what that is) in one hand and a flashlight for himself in the other, all the while enduring my cries as I crawled under and over the barbed wire fences that were way more fun to manipulate just three hours prior. To this day, I'm not really sure which one of us got the worst punishment that night.

While driving home at 2 a.m., with a load of cement in the back of a borrowed Land Rover somehow reminded me of the cemetery. Maybe it was all the expressionless statues staring back at me in the review mirror? Maybe it was the late hour? In any case, Amy and I enjoyed an evening of fellowship and fundraising planning at Patti's house a couple of weeks ago while picking up several greyhound statues for those SEGA members who live in South Georgia.

These statues are a part of a fundraiser we do annually. They are a huge hit among our members, but can be a huge back ache to get delivered since Fed Ex does not ship giant blocks of cement. Part of the purchase price goes toward the rental of a U-Haul and gas to drive to the cement yard. This year our haul weighed more than 4,000 lbs! Despite some sore volunteer backs and some creative packing of vehicles as people picked up their new concrete tributes to their fur babies, SEGA made awesome money.

So, I purchased one statue for our home. I'm not sure what I will do with it yet. Maybe it will sit next to our pool? Maybe it will guard our front door? Or maybe I will leave a special request that one just like it be created for my place in our family graveyard in North Carolina. Certainly I can't be without a greyhound by my side for all eternity.

Meme Virgin

I read a lot of blogs. My Bloglines account is bursting at the seams with the number of subscriptions I have to various and sundry blogs - none of which include important or serious topics such as politics or business. From greyhounds to knitting and quilting, my blog addition provides two essentials for me: a sense of community and inspiration.

One interesting phenomenon that happens on every blog that I read, no matter the topic, is the meme. I had no idea what a meme was at first and until 10 minutes ago, with a little help from my friends at Wikipedia, I had no idea where the word came from. Here's what they say:

"A meme (pronounced /miːm/) is any learned feeling, thought or behavior. Examples include thoughts, ideas, theories, practices, habits, songs, dances and (controversially) moods. Memes propagate themselves and can move through the cultural sociosphere in a manner similar to the contagious behavior of a virus."

I've never been tagged for a meme. Most memes are about the author, not about their subjects and most of us greyhound bloggers, prefer to write about our dogs - not ourselves. But Denise tagged me for my first meme entitled, Six Unknown Things About You and unknowingly took my meme virginity.

Six Unknown Things About Me

1. I've Been to 49 of the 50 States: when I was 5 years old, my family drove from Georgia to Oregon, and back, on a six-week adventure where I got to see most of this country. Other family trips during my childhood allowed me to see most of the rest. Thanks to my husband and a couple of girl friends in New England I was able to check the rest off in the last few years. Kev and I are planning a cruise to Alaska in the next two years to make my list complete.
2. I Skinny Dip Regularly: well, it's in my own pool, but I find myself wanting to take a dip and really don't feel like going inside to find a suit. So, I just grab a towel, strip down and jump in. There's no doubt in my mind that my 60 year old, grumpy neighbor has caught an eye full, but if he has, he hasn't changed the way he treats me. So much for my womanly ways.
   
3. I Know More about Sports than Most Men: according to Kev, I scare most men with my knowledge of sports (football, basketball, and baseball). But I'm not one to play dumb in a social situation, so when I'm in a business meeting with a bunch of know-it-all men, I have to temper what I say - mention just enough to let the guys at the table know that I can easily keep up with them, but not so much that I make them feel dumb - which they all are. Oh, but let's be clear - I have no coordination, and I have never played a sport in my entire life. I guess you'd classify me as an athletic supporter.
   
4. I Love Reality TV: the trashier the better. Big Brother. America's Next Top Model. Survivor. Intervention. Locked Up Abroad. Deadliest Catch. Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? You name it, I watch it and I LOVE IT.
5. I Wanted to Be Crystal Gayle when I was Young: and really, who didn't? I grew my hair as long as I could until I was in the 6th grade. I really loved this picture of her that was on the inside of my favorite Crystal Gayle tape, of which I wore out singing, Don't it Make My Brown Eyes Blue at the top of my lungs much to the dismay of my parents and sister.

So now for the viral part of the meme: tagging other bloggers to keep it alive. So I choose to tag Patti, Zan, Amy, and Christie (who was Roxy's foster mom). Share your secrets with the world! Don't let the meme die!