Dog Whisperer meets Ghost Whisperer

Check your local listings Friday, March 30th, when Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan makes a guest appearance on CBS's "Ghost Whisperer" starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. The show airs at 8:00 p.m. Eastern.

Since "Dog Whisperer" usually airs the same night, at the same time, 8:00 p.m. Eastern time, on the National Geographic Channel, the National Geographic people have graciously decided to run Dog Whisperer at 9:00 p.m. that night.

For information on March 30th episode of "Ghost Whisperer", follow this link. There's also a video preview.

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ghost_whisperer/

Hail Cesar!!!!

frank mueller day, march 9, 2007

Wish I'd been able to login here before midnight last night and do this post, but alas, I was at my brother Frank's retirement party and so this post will have to contain today's date instead.







The reason I'm concerned? Yesterday, March 9, 2007 was "Frank Mueller Day" in the tiny town of Northborough, Massachusetts.

Above, here, is my brother, Frank, our cousin LouAnn, and me (I'm the baby). Frank, 14 years old when I was born, is not only my brother, but also my godfather. LouAnn, my godmother. This photo was taken in 1960, the year that Mook (see previous post) gave birth to me.

Frank retired from the Northborough Police Department in December, 2006. The party honoring his career was last night, and it was one of the best events I've ever attended. Very well done. A lot of laughter, and a brief shedding of tears.



Frank was given a number of awards, by the town, surrounding towns, fire departments, and even the State of Massachusetts.

My brother is the true definition of "hero." Having self-enlisted in the US Army in the mid-1960s, Frank served in Vietnam on a one-year tour of duty as an MP. Tales of his experience there were never-before-heard until last night. I remember vividly his homecoming from Vietnam, myself having been pulled out of my second-grade classroom to drive to Logan Airport with my folks. My teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, tearful herself, practically jumping up and down at the news of his return home. After that, Frank worked 7 years as a New Jersey State trooper -- a job he qualified for after being accepted into the police academy literally two days after he stepped off the airplane from Vietnam in 1968. He began his career as a trooper with only a few weeks of training, a reportedly unprecedented career move. To his 30 years of service with Northborough, a job he also secured in only a couple of days, and which he accepted in favor of the Southborough Police Department's offer, which came on the same day, only minutes after he'd already accepted the job with Northborough.

Early in his career in "Jersey", as a very young man, Frank was one of hundreds of officers who participated in taking back control of Rahway State Prison from the inmates who had rioted and took over the facility.

Frank was responsible for a number of interesting well-known arrests in the Worcester County (Massachusetts) area, including the infamous "Honeymoon Bandit" -- a man who would "crash" weddings throughout Worcester county and make off with baskets of gift envelopes. Frank was the officer who nabbed the guy, making front-page news headlines for the arrest.

Frank also saved a man from a burning car, twice. The man was so drunk, he crawled back inside the car after Frank dragged him out! Frank was given a medal of honor for saving the man's life.

The stories of Frank's heroism and dedication to "the department" are numerous and inspirational. I am honored to be related to this man, and thrilled to have been part of the celebration of his career.

In his personal life, Frank won several body-building titles in the 1980s and 1990s, rivaling the likes of "Arnold" and others. Frank's four children, (my nieces and nephew) pictured here, are beautiful and a source of pride in and of themselves.

On to bigger and better things -- what will it be next? One can only imagine, and dream.

mook turns 87

When she was a little girl, my mother's siblings called her "Mook". This is because she couldn't pronounce the word "milk," and it came out "mook." The name stuck. All the cousins call her Aunty Mook. Her sisters still call her Mook.

Mook turned 87 today.

Recently, we were at a family gathering at a local restaurant. I helped Mook into the ladies room. It was one of these fully-automated restrooms, the kind with motion-detectors on everything -- sinks, toilet, paper towel holder.

Poor Mook was completely lost. "How do I flush the toilet?" "You don't," I replied, "it flushes itself when you stand up."

Turning on the sink was a feat in itself. Even computer geek me couldn't get the motion detector to turn the water on.

Once Mook's hands were wet, it was another challenge to get the paper towels to come out of the electronic holder. Again, no matter how many hand-passes across its little red sensor, I couldn't hit it just right for those towels to come streaming out. I finally did it.

When we visited the restroom a second time that night, we went through the entire process all over again. It doesn't help that Mook is nearly 100% blind to begin with.

Here are just a few of the things that have been invented or changed since Mook's birth in 1920:

• The tumble dryer


• Refrigerator/freezers for home use


• Hairdryers


• Television


• Color Television


• Video-tape recorder


• Digital video recorder


• The Walkman


• Portable cassette player/recorder


• Cathode-ray tube


• Computers


• MS-DOS


• Electric typewriters


• Liquid Paper (aka "White Out")


• Cordless telephone


• Mobile telephones (1947!!)


• Push-button telephone


• The modem


• The microchip


• Remote control devices


• Commercial (passenger) airplanes


• Jet engine


• Liquid-fueled rockets


• The helicopter


• Radar


• Doppler Radar


• Hi-fi/stereo sound equipment


• The jukebox


• The dynamic loudspeaker


• The car radio


• Frequency modulation (FM radio)


• The transistor


• Stereo recordings


• The drive-in movie theater


• 3-D movies


• Polariod photography


• The photocopier


• Adhesive tape


• The Band-Aid


• Bubble gum


• Pez candy


• Barbie dolls


• Cabbage Patch kids


• The ball-point pen


• The aqualung scuba-diving tank


• The lie-detector


• Insulin


• Penicillin


• Tetracycline


• Oral contraceptives


• Traffic signals


• Frozen food


• Cake mix


• McDonald's


• Spiral-bound notebooks


• Nylon


• Teflon


• Neoprene


• Velcro


• Contact lenses


• Aerosol spray cans


• Canned beer


• Credit cards


• ATM machines


• Post-It notes


• The Segway human transporter

a fresh start

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, February for me is goal-setting month. I don't do New Year's Resolutions, I make changes in February, after all the New Year's people have dropped out of the gym and so-forth.

I can already feel spring in the air. Mom's birthday is in about 10 days, and that means the start of spring. I can hardly wait!

Last night, I learned that all the tip-toeing around I do in the morning so as not to disturb Gil while he's sleeping isn't necessary, according to him. I try to keep the dogs quiet, and do as little as possible each day while he sleeps in a bit. Well, he said he doesn't really care about the noise, it doesn't disturb him that much.

So, today, I took the dogs for a morning jog. We didn't even make a whole lot of noise, since I carry the kennel leads in my pocket, so I just went outside to put the leads on the dogs. We just went up around the corner and back, and I actually had them run. Hobie and I are both pretty much out-of-shape after sitting around all these weeks, and Hobie's nails are long, so I didn't want to overdo it.

Overnight, we had indigestion, and so I decided this morning that we are no longer going to eat late at night. Our lifestyle really sucks. One thing we can change is what time of the evening we eat. We will feel better, and will probably lose weight, too.

After my run this morning, I washed the dishes, and then went to the gym for the first time. Met Myriam there, and we laughed, learning how to use the treadmills together, and then swam about 8 or 10 laps in the pool. It was actually pretty good. I am not a gym-person, but I may actually keep doing this from time to time. It wasn't crowded, and it was actually much more enjoyable than I would've thought. The bathroom was disgusting, but I simply won't use it. I only live 5 minutes away anyway.

The reward at the end was getting a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee. Mmmmmm! My favorite. DD is right next door to the gym. There's nothing like an iced coffee on a sunny, spring morning. And no donuts or anything to offset the wonderful work I did exercising!

hector meets riley!

Took the dogs for a very short walk this morning. Man, they are climbing the walls with cabin fever. This weather is ridiculous. Hey, whatdya want? It's February in New England! It was ok enough to walk for a few minutes.

I tried to get them to walk about the back yard -- no go. They both stood at the top of the stairs on the deck and just looked at me as if to say, "Are you nuts, lady? We want a walk!"

My trusty kennel leads in my jacket pockets, I went back into the house, and brought the dogs out the front door for a stroll up the lane. Hector, loose, brought "Toy" with him (pictured above) and bounded down the steps. At the end of the driveway, he stopped, "Toy" in mouth, did a classic "point" stance, and ran up the road like a car in a drag race, dropped Toy partway down the lane, and started sniffing like the hound he is.

Hobie, wearing a blue kennel lead, and me, walking calmly behind the hound. The kennel lead had looped over Hobie's ear, so that his ear was being flattened under the collar part of the lead. Wearing big overstuffed gloves, it's not easy to put a leash on a dog. I fixed his ear, and moved on.

They sniffed and peed on everything in sight, and we went up to the cottage for a look around. The plow guy had piled the snow so high, the three of us couldn't safely approach the door. I will have to shovel there later.

Across from the cottage is where a new dog, Riley, lives. Hobie met Riley on a walk a few weeks ago, when Hector was recuperating from his foot injury. They smelled Riley today before they saw him.

I had picked up Hector's toy, which he had once again abandoned in favor of sniffing. I spotted Riley up by his house. Hobie spotted him visually next, and then Hector spied Riley.

In true Cesar Millan style, I used no words. I made Hobie follow me. Hector bolted, at first, towards Riley. Riley stood like a soldier, but ears forward and wagging his tail, very much the calm and assertive, yet friendly, dog. Riley made no sounds. Very interesting. He is a silent dog. Hector slowed, and they greeted. Then they play-bowed and started romping together in the snow. I called Hector's name a couple of times, but not showing any upset or panic. I kept walking, Toy in hand, Hobie in the other, towards home.

Once we got closer to our house, Hector said his goodbyes to Riley, and followed us home. We walked a few more minutes, abandoning Toy at various intervals, me picking Toy up and enticing Hector with it: "Got your toy!! I've got Toy! Where's Toy?"

Hobie's feet started to bother him from the cold, and that was the signal to head indoors and have breakfast.

an anniversary, of sorts

This day marks 19 years that I've been clean and sober. February 8, 1988 is my A.A. "birthday" or "anniversary."

It's very strange mentioning this, since it seems like another lifetime and a different person who went through all that. The idea of having a drink, getting drunk, taking drugs, is just completely foreign to me now. I even stay away from prescription and over-the-counter medication as much as possible. An extra cup of coffee can ruin my day! Booze? I wouldn't even consider drinking today.

I have most certainly moved on. I haven't attended an AA meeting in about 6 years. The last time I went to one was around my anniversary when Hobie was just over a year old. I had been having a really hard time at work, and decided I needed something. So, on a Sunday morning, I went to the open meeting at the big Mass. Electric building out on Route 9. It's a wonderful meeting -- they always have free Dunkin' Donuts donuts and coffee.

But this date of February 8th is a bittersweet one.

On my very first AA anniversary, February 8, 1989, my dear friend Bob died, apparently due to the use and abuse of drugs and alcohol. The circumstances of his death are not clear, but everyone in our circle of friends believed it was suicide. My ex-husband shared an apartment with Bob at the time, and found Bob dead in his bedroom that morning -- the morning of my first AA anniversary. Being newly clean and sober, his death devastated me. Why had I been given a second chance? Why me? Why had Bob died? Why him?

Here's Bob, on the left (he's the guy who looks like Steve Perry, the lead-singer of Journey). I'm the bride. Ex-husband is the guy w/the glasses.

Whenever we'd tell Bob that he looked like Steve Perry, he'd always reply, "I don't look like that f***in' guy!!" lol. I still think of Bob today whenever I hear a song by Journey or AC/DC. He loved music, and so did I. We had such great times together, playing records (yes, vinyl record albums) late into the night.

One of my most vivid memories of Bob is the time I had taken a vacation day from work. I was not married to the guy with the glasses yet. In fact, I was living across the hall from him and Bob, with my boyfriend at the time. Halfway through the day, I heard music coming from their apartment, and I realized Bob was home, too. I called him and he said he had taken a day off, too, and was trying to figure out the lyrics to a song on the brand-new Fleetwood Mac album "Tusk". The song was "Sara". He asked me to come over and help him figure it out. We played that song 1,000 times that day, with pen and paper, figuring out each word that Stevie Nicks baaaaah-ed in her barnyard-animal-noises way.

Sara, you're the poet in my heart,

Never change,

Never stop,

And now it's gone,

It doesn't matter what for,

But when you build your house,

Then call me. Home.

To this day, whenever I hear that song, I know that Bob is sending me a special hello from wherever he is. And yes, I sing along, and smile, and know every single word.

In the movie, "It's A Wonderful Life", Clarence the Angel says something about each person touching our lives in so many ways. Bob breezed in and out of my life quickly. He was there in 1979, and he was gone in 1989. Ten very brief years of friendship. We were like a family, me, Bob and my then-husband. Bob lived with us on-and-off for most of our brief marriage. He was like a teenage son to us, and was always a troubled soul. He would come to our doorstep in the middle of the night, having tried to live on his own and failed... and we would always take him in. Months later, some kind of fight or argument would occur (just like a family), and away he'd go. Only to return a few months after that.

In 1983, Bob returned to our house and brought with him a little friend. A black Labrador Retriever puppy whom he had named "Timba." Bob had brought the little pup out into the woods for a walk, and was trying to think of a name for her. He looked up at the trees, thought of trees falling and someone saying "timberrrrrr!!" and came up with the name Timba (with an "a" on the end, not with a New England accent!).

Husband-at-the-time wouldn't let the dog in the house. He had been brought up in a "dogs live outside" family. I loved that dog, and would sneak her in the house when husb wasn't home. I would take Timba for long, long walks every morning. All of the neighborhood dogs would follow us. We'd walk all the way from our house in Princeton to the Holden town line and back again. I looked like the Pied Piper with all those dogs! We'd drop them off at their homes on the return walk. We lived way out in the woods, and leash laws were a concept of the future in 1983 in central Mass.

By the time that particular chapter ended, Bob owed me a lot of money in back rent and household expenses. I was the breadwinner of the household, putting spouse through college and working full-time and going to school myself. I made a deal with Bob. Give Timba to me, and you won't owe me a cent. He accepted the deal. I divorced the other guy and got "custody" of Timba. Bob and my ex got an apartment together. Everything had come full-circle. When I met the duo, they were sharing an apartment, and after 10 years of "Three's Company", there they were, bachelor roommies again. It would be in that apartment that my ex would find Bob, dead in his bed, having taken too many sleeping pills. The ex would live in that apartment for several more years, with Bob's cat (ex hated cats!), until he married again and moved away. Every so often, I or someone else in our circle of friends bumps into my ex. The last time I saw him was in a grocery store parking lot, literally two weeks after Timba died. How odd. There are no coincidences.

One of the best things that ever happened to me, was due to this person, Bob, being in my life for ten years. Timba became my best and most loyal friend. At her death in 2001, I had known her longer than most of the humans in my life. Timba was the inspiration for my avocation as an writer and author -- the stories I've written about her are the basis of the creation of my web site www.k2k9.com Here's Timba, in 1983, in the kitchen of my house in Princeton.

Bob, I will always be grateful to you for bringing Timba into my life. I know that the two of you are together right now, walking in the woods together, singing songs from the 80s, and remembering me.

I downloaded several different versions of "Sara" onto my iPod. I'll play them today, along with some AC/DC, Journey and REO Speedwagon. And I'll think of Bob, and smile and cry at the same time. Here's a picture of Bob and me, in 1982, in that other lifetime.

bowling with ben on his 1st birthday

getting back out there

The snowstorm that was supposed to hit overnight missed us, and the sun is shining and it's actually sort of warm outside, for a February morning.

Hector's foot is healed. He is putting all of his weight on it.

I decided to take both dogs for a walk, to start reaching towards our goal.

I did what Cesar recommends: visualize the walk from start to finish.

1) What kind of leash/collars am I using? Regular buckle collars and matching leashes. No choke collar, no Illusion collar, no skinny leash.

2) How long of a walk? 20 minutes, maximum.

3) The route: To the end of our dirt road, across the main road, up the next dirt road on the left, and back again. Skip the third dirt road on the right -- could be cats and ice. I'm not ready for that.

Everything went exactly as planned.

Hector was way out in front. Since this was his first walk in over 6 weeks, I didn't make a fuss about that. He needed to burn off that energy. So, instead, I looked at it as a job for him to burn off the energy. It would be neat to give him a pulling job like a sled, bike or cart. He would be really good at that.

To prevent myself from having a muscle-pain flare-up, I constantly checked the leashes, making sure there was no tension on the leash. So, even though Hector was out in front, the leash was slack and my shoulders were down and relaxed, not tense.

On our return trip, Hobie wanted to go up the third dirt road on the right. I leash corrected, Cesar-style, a couple of times, while using my old standby command "Not today" which Hobie knows means: we're not going that way today!! (of course!) and we went home.

I went into the fenced-in back yard, me first, and dropped the leashes after entering through the gate. Both dogs stood and waited for me to take the leashes off. Then, they play-bowed and romped around for a minute or two.

We went inside the house, and I washed the dishes while they laid down and rested. (Exercise, followed by discipline.) This is our daily routine, regardless of whether we walk or just go out into the yard. The exercise is always followed by my washing the dishes while they rest.

After they've rested, we do "yogurt time". This is so that I, as pack leader, can eat first without having to eat a whole meal. I eat several spoonfuls of plain yogurt, and then I give them each a spoonful in their doggie bowls. This is followed by dog food which I scoop out with my hands, hold in my hands prayer-like, and make each of them sit before putting the food from my hands into their bowls.

After that, I let them finish the cat's leftover food from last night. They each get half of whatever she did not eat. It is a job, actually, because they clean her bowl and get all the dried on cat food off!


Then, they each get a "chewy chew", which is a beef or chicken-flavored rawhide stick. They, of course, have to sit for the cat food as well as the chewy chews.

This is affection.

Exercise, discipline, affection!! Ta daaaaa!

february, spring is just around the corner

To me, February means springtime is not too far away. March is better.

My Mom's birthday is in March, and her birthday signals for me the official end of winter.

My thoughts now turn to opening our house on Cape Cod. I think about it constantly now. The days are getting longer, but not yet warm enough to turn the water back on or stay there overnight (no heat except for a fireplace in the living room).

2006 was special because we were able to wait to shut down the house due to the warm weather. Unfortunately, I jumped the gun and shut down after my last visit on November 29th. But we could've kept going there through the holidays and into the first week of January. If only we had known. And so, the place sits, empty and cold, waiting for the warmth of our hearts and sunshine.

I am afraid, still, to walk the dogs together. At the Cape, I have no choice because we can't fence in our yard. So, I have to walk them, on leash. It will be a challenge, since I've now gone months without walking them together, due to Hector's foot injury and my not feeling well on most days.

We live within one minute's walking distance of one of the most beautiful beaches on Cape Cod. Dogs are allowed, yet there is a strictly-enforced leash law. The irony: you can bring your dog to the beach, but you can't let him run loose. And if you have more than one dog, then you really have to have control over them. Everyone and their brother brings their dogs to "our" beach. Try controlling 170 pounds of male, excited dog when you're only 5 feet tall and they've got at least 20 pounds on ya. It just ain't gonna happen. So, I end up leaving Hector at home, and taking Hobie to the beach. Hector is somewhat afraid of water, and doesn't require as much activity as Hobie does. Still, it makes me sad that I can't handle them confidently enough to enjoy the beach together. (Notice that the dogs are loose in the photo above, snapped during "off-season" when nobody was around.)

February is my goal-setting month. I don't do New Year's resolutions. I do February resolutions! Goal #1 is to start walking the dogs on leash, on long walks, again. Hector's foot is still bothering him a little, so it's not time yet. But by the end of March, we have to get back to that, or I will lack the confidence I need when we return to the beach.

Here are photos of Hobie, taken during a visit to our beach, after Thanksgiving.

hector goes to the office!

Hector had his follow-up appointment with the new vet today (because of a foot injury sustained when he jumped the stone wall). Rather than drive back and forth from home to work, then home, then all the way back to the vet which is practically next door to work, I decided to take Hector to the office with me this morning. He spent three hours at work with me, and it was delightful.

First, on the way there, we had to take an alternate route due to construction on the regular road. My dogs know the various routes, so this threw him for a loop. He started doing his little "talking" thing when I turned up the different road.

Lo and behold, a half a mile down the road, there is a flock of wild turkeys -- about a dozen of them to be exact. Now, if I had had both dogs in the car, Hobie would have started getting all anxious and antsy about the birds. He starts making noises and sometimes will try to lunge, although that has gotten tons better since I learned to stay silent and not fixate on the distraction myself! (Thank you Cesar Millan!) Hector truly lived in the moment. Yes, he was curious, but he just looked at the birds ( I had to drive by them really slowly because they may have crossed the road), and then he lingered looking at them after we drove past, and then turned his head forward and enjoyed the rest of the ride.

At the office, everyone was falling all over themselves patting him and paying attention to him. He went straight into my office! He hadn't been there in months, but he knew the drill! He attended our daily sales administration meeting, and it was really funny because we all hate that meeting and after a few minutes he wanted to leave but the door was closed. Mike said, "I know how you feel Hector" to which I replied, "He's picking up on all of our energy. He's saying get me outta here!"

We left a little early for the vet appt, and when we drove in there was a dog in the parking lot. Not wanting the confrontation (I am a chicken!) I went for a little drive. But when I brought him back, there were two dogs in the waiting room. He was a perfect gentleman. Again, everyone was fawning over him and saying how well-behaved and handsome he was.

Another patient had a 17 year old dog. I said to him, "It's nice having an old dog around" -- at that precise moment, the vet came out into the waiting room, and he goes, "My wife says that to me all the time!" We were all cracking up!

my family

On Christmas Eve, I visited my Mom's house, and while I was plugging in her mini Christmas trees, she opened a drawer and there were 100 photos that I'd never seen before. I asked if I could borrow them and scan them (Nick later gave me 100 more to add to the pile!). I've scanned them all, and here are some choice cuts. Enjoy!

happy birthday, hobie!

I couldn't close up shop for the night without posting happy birthday wishes to my favorite K9 himself, The Hobester!

While I don't really know the specific day of Hobie's birth (like I know Hector's was September 4, 2001 -- exactly one week before "9/11")... I do know that Hobie is my Millennium Dog. He was born in January, 2000, but came into my life 4 months later, in May of 2000. The photo here is the first one I ever snapped of Hobie, and we've been partners ever since. Here is a scan of the receipt from Petco -- our first excursion by car, which we did only a few moments after our love-at-first-sight meeting! The toys in the photo are the ones I bought at Petco that day!



Since I usually travel during the week of Christmas/New Year's annually, I started choosing a day shortly after my return to the States as Hobie's "official" birthday. So, when he was a year old, I returned home from my annual trip on January 2nd or 3rd, and decided a few days later that his birthday should always be celebrated on January 6th.

Here we are 7 years later. It seems hard to believe that my little Hobie is 7 years old. 49 in dog years, which means he is now older than me.

Years spent with our pets are precious -- and filled some of life's greatest pleasures, challenges and lessons.

I love Hobie more than words can describe. He is the coolest dog on the planet.

Happy Birthday, Hobes!!

Love,
K2 ("Mommy")

zonkaraz

Hundreds of graying hippies descended upon WPI's Alden Hall last night, New Year's Eve, 2006, to witness the reunion concert of Worcester's own Zonkaraz, a band of locally-famous rock musicians whose jam sessions have been compared to the Dead, and who really brought the house down, closing 2006 in style.

New Year's Eve 2006 marked the 25th anniversary of Worcester's "First Night" celebrations.

Gil was mentioned in the Telegram & Gazette as having recorded Zonkaraz over the years, and had been in contact with Joanne (Barnard) List by email recently, in anticipation of her return from sunny Florida to perform to the standing-room-only crowd. I think Gil was really happy he went. Gil got to talk to Joanne, Ricky Porter, Paul Vuona, John Webster and Walter Crockett. I got introduced to everybody (I had met Walter and Joanne before, but not the others, although I'd always gone to see their various post-Zonkaraz bands in Worcester).

The only difference between today and 1970 were CELL PHONES. Everyone had them and were snapping photos left & right. Of COURSE I started it! Being one of the younger ones in the crowd (lol). Cell phone photos aren't great, and I took this home and enhanced it, but too much white light on the faces. In any case, here it is, to capture a moment in time:




Before the show, we stopped at the Boynton for a bite to eat, and the place was packed. We looked over at the bar, and there were two empty seats, and who is sitting right there but our next door neighbors Tom and Alana!! We shoulda car-pooled! Then, we arrive at the show, and who is standing right next to us but Liz (the woman who designed k2k9.com!) and her hubby Donald. Turns out Lizzie had designed the First Night 25th-Anniversary buttons that gained all of us entry into the various venues around town.

The concert itself was magic. The band was tight, and the guys played like they'd still been jamming together all these years. The entire crowd was on its feet, dancing. I looked around from time to time, and remember seeing these very people at the local bars, doing the same thing, only then they had brown hair, or in some cases, HAIR. They all looked familiar. It was the same group of people, reunited in an attempt to recapture the good ol' days.

And recapture them, we did.

Joanne blew everyone away. Having never seen Joanne perform in person, despite the fact that I have heard her recordings thousands of times, I was mesmerized and delighted. Joanne has soul. A consummate performer. Not to mention she can really belt out a tune. Despite now being a grandmother, Joanne has still "got it". She's ageless, and her voice is as strong and confident as ever. Visiting with her backstage, Joanne remarked as she ran off to prepare for Zonkaraz's second set, "This is young woman's work!" I was surprised to hear her say that, she had made it look so easy.

walkin' the dog

Today, I walked Hobie around the block. Hector can't go on long walks because of his paw injury. Gil tells me Hector was very unhappy being left behind -- he "howled like a wolf", baying and lowing at the absence of his pack.

Hobie and I had the lucky streak of being able to practice greeting other dogs. This is something I can rarely do successfully when I have both Hobie and Hector on leash. Mainly because they will pull me down on the ground, but also they scare other dog owners. They are just so excited to greet other dogs -- not aggressive, just excited.

I counted the number of dogs we encountered this morning. Seven. First was Billy, who is a regular playmate of Hobie and Hector. No big deal there. Next, we met up with Shannon's brother-in-law and his three dogs. This was great. I blocked Hobie by standing between him and the other dogs. I was calm and gentle, didn't use loud vocal commands, just quiet and as few words as possible. The man asked if his dogs could say hello. "Sure, definitely!" I replied. His three dogs were unruly, barking, growling carrying on (except for the little female she was very sweet -- I think Hobie has a crush on her!). Hobie was an exemplary student.

Onward and upward. We walked by Oscar's house -- where, predictably, Oscar proceeded to bark, bark, bark, bark, bark until we passed in both directions. After Oscar's house, at the end of the dirt road is Alana's sister's house -- she has a really friendly Border Collie. We didn't get to greet him, as he had turned his back and was apparently avoiding us. But that's ok, that, too is an exercise in dog behavior.

Back past Shannon's sister's house, and right before we get there, I see a dog I've never seen before. Hobie doesn't see it. It's loose. No owner in sight. I again positioned myself between Hobie and the other dog, who had by that time gone out-of-sight. I shortened Hobie's leash so he was right beside me, but kept it slack so as not to have any tension on the leash. New-dog, whose name I found out a few minutes later is Riley, was up on the porch of the house with his owner. When he spotted us, and Hobie spotted him (her?) Hobie perked up and I was not making eye contact with Riley or his owner, but I heard the woman say, "AHCK!" then, "No, Riley!" Well, of course Riley gave her the paw and came out to the road to greet us. Riley and Hobie were perfect gentlemen -- great body-language, ears up, tails up, happy faces, sniff, sniff, sniff. Riley's owner was unhappy that Riley had approached us. Riley wanted to follow us! I said, "C'mon Hobie, we're going home," at which point Riley fell in line and was going to join our pack! I saw what was happening and immediately made Hobie stop, resulting in Riley stopping. Riley's owner was able to grab Riley's collar and bring him back home. And Hobie and I went back to ours, where Hector was waiting, happy to see us. I took Hector outside in the back yard for a quick stroll, just me and Hector, and the new ball he got for Christmas.

photos

I stumbled across some really old photos over the holiday weekend.

The first set are old photos from my infancy and childhood, and they have to be scanned, so they won't be up here for a little while.

The set I'm going to post here are treasures I found this evening -- photos of Hobie when he was a young pup, me when I was thinner and had good hair.


Gil with Hobie when Hobie was just about 5 months old.





And here are some pics of our first grandson, Ben, on his first Christmas!





Ben & his dad, Dave

Ben meets Hobie & Hector, through the window!

virtual strangers

I find myself a part of a cultural phenomenon. It doesn't surprise me that I'm so "mainstream" -- I've always been into pop-culture. Check my 36-year addiction to the ABC soap All My Children, my obsession with the band Bon Jovi, and a slathering of other mainstream, pop icons and fads that I've gotten sucked into over this lifetime. (As I'm writing this, Gil yells upstairs to me to turn on Larry King Live because CNN is re-running Larry's recent interview with none other than the gorgeous, talented, mega-talented, oh, did I say gorgeous, Jon Bon Jovi!).

But the phenomenon I am writing about today is that of virtual relationships. I belong to several "groups" on the internet. A couple of dog-behavior groups, and a couple of fibromyalgia groups. The people on these groups, including me, go out of their way to help the other members of the group. Now, we group members, except for a select few, have never met by telephone, we've certainly never met in person.

We are virtual strangers.

All of this communicating is being done on the keyboard. Everybody out-doing each other, or trying to, in writing, advice-giving, spelling and humor. I cannot count the number of times I've presented to one of these groups with a problem, and someone from a different state... shit sometimes from foreign countries... will reach out with answers, suggestions, compassion and humor. Most times this advice is bandied about on the group itself, for "public" consumption, as long as you're a member of the group. But other times -- and this is the part that is most incredible -- other times people will email me privately. Virtual strangers, reaching out to little ol' me, spending their time thinking about my problem and writing to me about it.

Just this weekend, I received lengthy emails from at least four group members offering me advice, educating me, and assisting me with my various "issues". One guy helped me with some photos I was having trouble posting to k2k9.com. And two other ladies gave me some invaluable knowledge about more personal matters.

These groups are the support groups that I attended 20 years ago in person, only better. From the comfort and privacy of your own home, you are invited to attend the support group meeting. You can do it 24/7, and communicate with like-minded individuals from all over the world. The concept is mind-blowing, and it's taken off like a rocket. Two of the groups I belong to have over 2,000 members apiece.

And, just as with interpersonal relationships of any kind, whether it be family, friends, co-workers, the same dynamics come into play. People get offended and get into arguments. The moderator has to step in and put an end to it. Sometimes, people get so offended, they quit the group (I left one dog group for 2 months this fall, and have just recently returned. I used to do that frequently with the for-real groups back in the 80s! The more things change...) Sometimes, everybody works it out and things end up being rather humorous. Some of the groups have extremely strict rules, and some are all about fun, fun, fun.

Oh, and did you know that I'm Time Magazine's Person of the Year?

K2

Another Christmas behind us

Christmas 2006 wasn't bad. Did all my shopping online. Every bit of it. Didn't go to one store.

Got a new iPod to replace/upgrade my one that's only a year old. Between all the hard work Gil did (thank you, Sweetie!) and my own 2,000+ songs, there are a total of 5,300 songs on it, plus videos and I still have to load my 1600 photos and my Cesar Millan podcasts.

Abby gave the dogs a whole bag of toys and treats, including this indestructible ball, which unfortunately caused them to fight probably for the first time ever -- I mean the most aggressive I've ever seen them towards each other. And Hector even fought back. I asserted my pack leader-ness, along with my calm, assertiveness, and won that battle. Took the ball away temporarily. They'll get it back tomorrow. Here is a picture of the two idiots with a toy when they were puppies:

Yesterday found me going to help out with Mom, and that was the best part of Christmas 2006 by far. Mom has these little ceramic tabletop Christmas trees. You plug them in, and they light up. Mom's 86, and she can't get down on the floor to plug the suckers, in, so of course I did it for her. She had been storing the little trees in plastic grocery bags. While I was on the floor crawling around under the dusty veranda in the living room, trying to reach the wall socket, Mom stuffed the plastic grocery bags in a drawer inside the veranda. When she opened the drawer, it was stuffed to the brim with old black & white photographs, classic Polaroids that were peeling off their heavy cardboard backers and assorted other photographic treasures. After I was done crawling and plugging, I opened the drawer back up again. Astonished, I had stumbled upon 100 photographs I'd never seen in my life. The most important ones being of ME when I was 6 months old (the photos are date-stamped October of the year I was born, and there's a baby -- must be me!). They are all taken in the Chicago suburbs where we lived at the time -- recognizable by me today because we spent all of our vacations there when we were growing up. Peppered in are photos of my brothers, my parents, and the house at Lake Como in Wisconsin. I hollered to Mom, who by then was in the kitchen, "CAN I BORROW THESE?!" She said, "Whaaaa?" I carried the photos into the kitchen. "Can I borrow these? I have this machine Mom, it copies photos. It's called a scanner. I want to scan the photos and then I'll bring them all back to you." "You want to copy them." She said, understanding about the scanner. "Yes." "Yes." she said. Of all the "presents" I could've gotten this weekend for Christmas 2006, this was something I never asked for, never expected, never would have thought to ask for. The best kind of gift.

Bummer though, when I got home, I found out our scanner is broken. I ordered a replacement, but it won't arrive in time to scan the photos and put them on CDs for my two brothers whom I'm getting together with on Wednesday night. We always get together between Christmas and New Year's. Me, my brothers, Mom, and my 6 nieces and nephews. This year, we decided not to exchange gifts for the first time ever. I got Mom something, but that's it. Mom insists on giving everybody money, oh well what can ya do? This CD idea was to be a special gift from me to them, as the archivist, historian and genaeologist of the family. Ah well, I will just have to mail them the CDs later on.

Today was great -- worked on k2k9.com for hours and hours. Got a lot of great stuff written and posted. Then I cleaned the house in preparation for the kids and Ben, the only real little kid in our midst. Watched a couple of episodes of All My Children on DVR, and then everyone arrived and we opened presents and ate finger foods, including shrimp cocktail, cheese & crackers and deviled eggs.

When I was at Mom's yesterday, she told me she was making her famous deviled eggs to bring over to my sister-in-law's for Christmas appetizer. So, today when I was preparing our snacks, I realized I had to carry out this tradition. I know Mom's recipe for her famous deviled egg. In fact, we need to now call them Mook's Famous Deviled Eggs. (Mook is my mother's nickname -- it comes from when she was a little girl and couldn't say "milk". She said "mook" and it stuck -- people address her as Mook to this day.) Here is a picture of Mom, the first person to get a ride in my new car:

Christmas Traditions

I had a nice surprise tonight. My favorite movie of all time,
"It's A Wonderful Life" was on TV, but I didn't know it was
on, since it was on last week, too, and the network no longer shows the movie 1,000 times between Thanksgiving and Christmas!

Ever since I can remember, I have always wrapped Christmas presents while watching this movie. It is my one, and only, Christmas tradition. Last year, Christmas was different because Gil was home, and we did watch "It's A Wonderful Life" but I wrapped presents some other time. Tonight, by sheer coincidence, the movie was on, and I still had a few presents to wrap.

We had dinner, and afterwards I went upstairs to wrap the last remaining gifts. There was 45 minutes remaining to the movie -- the best 45 minutes, starting at the part where George Bailey tries to jump off the bridge and is saved by Clarence, the angel who needs to earn his wings. George Bailey declares to Clarence, "I wish I'd never been born", and Clarence grants his wish (to which "God", we think, gets a teensy bit angry). The remainder of the movie is spent watching George come to grips with the fact that he's never been born. As a result, Mr. Martini doesn't own the local bar, Mary is an old maid librarian, the old Granville house is unfit for habitation, and Harry Bailey has a gravestone in the cemetery having drowned because George wasn't there to save him. Harry was unable to save all the men in the war because George wasn't there to save Harry. The list goes on and on. This is about the point where we all start crying, and by the end of the movie we are blubbering idiots, as we read Clarence's note to George while a little bell rings on the Christmas tree. George's little daughter Zu-Zu declares, "Look Daddy! Teacher says, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings!"

The most important part of this tale is Clarence's note to George: "No man is a failure who has friends."

I finished wrapping the last present, just as the movie was ending. Wrapping my presents while watching my favorite movie is a tradition for me, and one I hope to do forever.

Merry Christmas
K2