Dragonfly Wars

I CAN FLY!

2012-02-03T17:23:00.008-07:00

Bridge to Zip-lining Course, Tongass National Rainforest, Alaska.

OK, I can't really fly, but compared to where I was a few weeks ago, walking without a limp, without pain, and without distress feels like flying. I'm free, not weighted down by a foot made heavy by numbness or a leg cramped into a permanent charlie-horse.

It all started with a sprained ankle in May 2011, keeping me from running the Bolder Boulder as planned. Next came lots of nights out with the puppy, lots of bending to play and pick things up, and no time to work out or swim. Just the daily grind.

I don't know how my body could have gone from there to where I was the first week of December: Barely able to walk, using a walker (albeit a very nice cherry-red one) borrowed from a coworker, desperate for surgery. I may never know, but at least, through the magic of magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), I was able to see that the pain wasn't all in my head.

Those of you who regularly read this blog will have seen the MRI picture I posted back in August clearly showing the cyst pressing against the nerves exiting my spinal cord at L4-L5 (lower lower back; actually the most common place for people to have trouble). I also had a bulging disk right below it (L5-S1) that was also compromising the spinal canal.

I wish I knew how the cyst developed -- that is, could I have done something to prevent it? Even today I worry that it might come back, which I have been told is a possibility. Apparently, synovial fluid can leak out of the facet joints in the back and become calcified (here's a link to more back-related terminology: http://www.my-spine.com/terminology-for-ct-scans-and-mri-scans-lumbar-region.html).

I'm going to physical therapy now and working to strengthen my hips and core so that there is less strain on my lower back. But I was in quite good condition before the puppy came and before the sprained ankle, and that didn't stop things from going downhill fast.

Anyway... I tried various other treatments before deciding on surgery: physical therapy, two corticosteroid injections into the spinal canal (lumbar epidurals), rest, pain-killers, massage, meditation, and even standing at my desk instead of sitting. The first lumbar epidural seemed to work for a good couple of weeks, but then I was back to square one. The second shot had no effect. Pain killers -- well, they're not what they're cracked up to be. They hardly even took the edge off, and I was taking the max. dose per day. From July through the first week of December, I was on painkillers and still in so much pain I could barely function.

So, in late October or early November, I asked my neurosurgeon (Dr. Alexander Mason) for help. He had walked me through the other alternatives, and it was clear to him that I'd done everything I could, that I was absolutely "miserable" (his word), and that surgery was truly in order. Unfortunately, I had to wait until 14 December. But that gave me time to set things up for Gem at Dog Days Training Center, where he stayed from 10 December through 10 January, and finish up tasks at work before I passed things off to a very helpful, hardworking, and gracious coworker.

On 14 December, my husband, Bear, and I went with much anticipation to the Minimally Invasive Spine Institute in Lafayette, Colorado, ready to have this ordeal over with. I was less scared of surgery than I was of having to live with the pain.

Here's a pretty good animation of what happened during my surgery (not exactly, of course): http://www.spine-health.com/video/laminectomy-back-surgery-spinal-stenosis-video. The surgical staff removed the spinous process (the protective bone that protrudes from the spine), parts of the bone and joint, the cyst, and some synovial fluid that was leaking from the joint (the PA told me this fluid has a similar look and consistency as ear wax), and shaved off the bulging disk. All through an incision no longer than my ring finger.

The funniest thing that happened that day was just after surgery, when I was in the recovery room: At one point, I thought I heard myself snoring, and I heard the nurses around me, but I knew I couldn't talk, so I started signing to them (!) -- spelling out in sign language: "Sorry for the snoring." One nurse was quite surprised, asking another person "Is she hearing impaired?" I have been talking to myself by spelling in sign language for years (I learned a bit of sign language when I worked at a school for mentally disabled children when I was 14), but it's funny that that would be the way I would try to communicate after surgery. I guess you just can't keep me from talking, even if you have a tube down my throat. (My mother would find this very funny because she says that as a toddler, once I began talking, it was almost impossible to get me to stop [or, as she put it, "she never ceases"].)

Recovering from surgery was difficult. I was lucky enough to have good benefits and could stay home for six weeks in order to recover and gain strength. Here's one thing I learned: We truly take for granted being able to lie down. Once you take your back out of the equation, being able to lie down is a Herculean task. I had to get Bear to help me, and now every time I lie down I am grateful that I can do it easily and by myself.

After a couple of weeks, I was feeling well enough to start weaning myself off of pain meds. I wanted to stop cold-turkey but knew that wasn't wise. Yet even slowing things down led to horrible withdrawal symptoms. I'd been on pain meds since July; that's over 5 months. The worst withdrawal symptom was restless leg syndrome. Not the kind that happens in your sleep and might bother your partner. We're talking full body restlessness with an incessant need to walk or kick your legs, pounding your feet into the floor. And that was accompanied by hot-flashes, anxiety, and insomnia.

I can understand why some people with a physical dependence on opioid painkillers might become psychologically dependent as well, even addicted. I'll never look down my nose at anyone struggling with this problem. After the pain and inability to walk without a severe limp, this was the most difficult physical challenge I have ever been through. It took a good two to three weeks before the withdrawal symptoms subsided. Now my goal is to never take another pain pill again; I hope my back holds out. I also want to say thanks to Maia Szalavitz for setting my mind at ease about the difference between addiction and physical dependence. [And thanks also to Luis Carlos Montalván and his book Until Tuesday for inspiring me to feel grateful and write this post.]

These days, I have almost no pain, just some twinges when I turn wrong or step down too hard. These days, walking is like flying -- a swift, smooth motion, head held high, shoulders broad. I am myself again, for the most part. Soon, I'll be able to start swimming, and then running. I'm hoping I'll be able to do a 5K sometime this summer. And maybe the doctor will clear me for zip-lining (again) and sky-diving so that I can do what I've always dreamed of doing -- really FLY.

Good-bye Blue Aroo

2011-12-07T18:45:00.001-07:00

Blue Aroo came into our lives on 10 June 2009 and passed away on 2 December 2011. He was a sweet and sparky dog - truly one of a kind. I didn't think any dog other than Buddy could become so completely a part of my heart. Blue amazed me with both his quiet gentleness and his joie de vivre.

I like to imagine that, now that he is no longer tethered to Earth, Blue is a comet racing across the sky, his wild blue eyes and goofy smile shining as his body makes an arc past stars and planets.

Quick post with links - Dragonflies Can "Literally" Be Scared to Death

2011-10-31T16:57:00.000-06:00

LiveScience is amazing — follow them for great science stories!

Here's one that caught my eye today: "Dragonflies are Literally Scared to Death of Fish." It picks up on science presented in the November 2011 issue of the journal Ecology: "The deadly effects of 'nonlethal' predators."

Both are drawn from a press release from the University of Toronto as well as an article on Futurity.org with a beautiful (stock) photo of a dragonfly.

I am particularly interested in a line from the Futurity.org article, "The findings could apply to all organisms facing any amount of stress — the experiment could be used as a model for future studies on the lethal effects of stress."

Mostly, this study leaped to my attention because it ties into my theme for this blog, as noted in my first post, "... it also relates to the conflicts inside a person, between fear and beauty, ignorance and acceptance."

This post is a dash-off in between doing several chores & as promised, it's short. I'll come back to expand on the topic soon.

Raising a Puppy - Successes!

2011-10-05T21:02:00.000-06:00

Just a quick post. Things are going great with Gem! Amazing! We've been going to class out at Dog Days Training Center in Berthoud, and Gemmie's going to be boarding out there again while I am in Minneapolis at my company's annual meeting. I'm looking forward to seeing what else he can learn.

For now: No biting when we're walking! The corrective collar (called a "good dog collar" although I have nicknamed it the "bad dog collar") has really made a difference, as had the training I have received. I know how to catch Gem at the beginning of negative behavior and "nip it in the bud" rather than react once he's in full "red zone" (well, maybe "orange zone" is a better description) mode.

Gem and I are developing a much healthier relationship. I no longer feel afraid and out of control. He gets to feel successful often and consistently disciplined. We're establishing a pattern and a routine, and we're going on longer walks to new places because I have the confidence that I can handle whatever comes up. We're trusting each other, and enjoying each other.

Next on the list: Getting him to GIVE me whatever he has in his mouth the first time I ask for it. His favorite, big ticket item: plastic bags. Oh, and my nightgown...

Raising a Puppy - Boarding School

2011-09-08T17:57:00.003-06:00

You can't always do things on your own. Even if you want to. Even if you think you can because you've done it before. And when it comes to raising a puppy, there is no such thing as "done it before." No puppy is alike—not even the same breed of puppy, not even the same litter of puppies. Gem is not going to be like Buddy, though he does show some Buddy-like traits. Gem is Gem, which equals quite a handful. Even after neutering, Gem continued to jump up on me, bite me hard enough to leave large bruises (he's now 50 pounds at 6-months old) and rip my clothes. I'm having some back problems that may turn out to be somewhat debilitating (I hate that word, but couldn't think of a better one). Rather than cry and be scared of my dog, I talked to my vet. The vet, Nancy Bureau, recommended Laurie Buffington of Dog Days Training Center in Berthoud, Colorado. This is a board-and-train operation—kind of like boarding school, but for dogs.

Husband Bear and I drove out there last Saturday and met with Buffington and some of the dogs "on staff" as well as a couple in training. Gemmie clearly showed his ability to get revved up and his inability to calm down. He likes to dominate other dogs and won't back down when "the play" gets too rough. Thus, the phone call yesterday: Gemmie had started to play with a [Boston] bull-terrier and when the terrier warned him off, he didn't listen—I bet he didn't even understand the cue. He jumped right back in and the terrier bit him hard, leaving puncture wounds on his front leg. The trainer moved in to stop the fight, and so Gem bit her (not on purpose, but just because he was operating blindly at that point).

Both are fine (if you discount the fact that Gemmie has to wear a "cone of shame" for a few days), and Gem seems just as happy and playful as ever.

What we are trying to do by having Gem board with an expert trainer is to have her see him for who he is ("in living color") in different circumstances so that she can develop a training program for us. Already she has told us she thinks Gem is "too much dog" for me and she's worried he needs more of a firm hand and consistent discipline than I can provide.

No more TREATS for everything [no treats as bribes]. She says (and I believe her) that Gem is such a smart guy that he has figured out how to manipulate me into giving him a reward. He's not learning to do the behavior because I want him to do the behavior; he's learning it to get what he wants (treats). Ouch. Not what I intended, but clear in retrospect.

I'm going to have to get Gem to do what I want by expecting him to do so, by setting him up to succeed in ways that don't require treating. I'm also getting rid of the play-pen (he's about out-grown it anyway, and Buffington says it gives him too much freedom) and getting him a larger crate. When he's being out of control, he goes in the crate. At night, he sleeps in the crate.

He's not a cuddle bug like Buddy was. He gets different messages from snuggling on the couch or sleeping in the bedroom than Buddy did. He learns he is "top dog"—maybe even more top dog than we humans.

When we got Blue Aroo, we knew that huskies would push boundaries and try to take over as alpha. We decided we would never allow Blue to get on the bed or the couch or to precede us through a doorway. Blue has never challenged our "alpha" roles; he has settled right in as "beta."

So, why did we not do this with Gem? Oh, because he's a golden retriever! A sweet, cuddly, dependable, gentle golden retriever! The buzzer goes off here: WRONG answer! Many golden retrievers these days are coming out more assertive/aggressive than in the past. People trying to breed for gentleness are ending up with not-so-gentle ~~alpha~~ ["high drive"] dogs [see this "Retrieverman's Weblog" post for example]. Gem comes from a show/hunting line; I should have known he would have a strong play/work drive with dominance issues, but I let the wool get pulled over my eyes when I met his mom: so sweet and calm... I also thought since the breeder did have some therapy dogs in her lines of goldens, Gem might pick up those qualities like Buddy had. Knowing what I know now... if I had it do over again, I might have looked elsewhere for a pup. [Not that it was AT ALL the breeder's fault — but read this article by ABC Golden Retrievers on "How to Choose a Reputable Breeder."]

Where does that leave Gem? Well, still at the boarding school until next week, when we meet with Laurie Buffington and get schooled ourselves, with lots of homework. Gem will come home with us and we'll do our best to "step up" and be the dog "guardians" or owners or masters or whatever you want to call it that he needs.

And I'll keep you posted.

[[Note: Edits added in brackets and strike-throughs 9 Sept.]]

Raising a Puppy - 5 months old!

2011-08-13T11:16:00.006-06:00

We made it! Gem is now 5 months old, has almost all his adult teeth, and has stopped biting and tearing my clothes (for the most part). There's a mutual trust growing between us, and I'm enjoying his company in a way that I couldn't have imagined a month ago.

I've been off blogging for a bit because of severe back and leg pain. Playing with Gem, chasing him around in the grass, and him jumping up at me exacerbated a problem I didn't know I had: a cyst on the left facet joint of my spinal vertebra at the L4-L5 region (lower back). The cyst is 6 mm and is causing, in doctor terms, "mass effect" and "moderate to several spinal canal narrowing." Basically, it's a big ole pea-sized growth that's pressing on the nerves in that area of the spinal cord. And yes, it is very painful. The doctors always have you do the pain scale, 1 to 10, with 10 being passing out from the pain... well, mine's been moving around from a 4 to an 8 but mostly a 7 to 8 with the pain at some points just making me bawl like a child. (Addendum: Here's what a normal lumbar MRI looks like: http://www.flickr.com/photos/neckandback/5260905034/.)

But, the good news is, this has helped me figure out how to raise Gem without trying to get him exhausted every day. I think that's part of why he was biting me so much. And I've had to seek out help -- after three tries, I have found the right doggie daycare for him, and I have promise from the neighbor to teach him to play proper fetch (chasing a ball across a field and bringing it back -- not just the simple toss of a toy in the living room).

Blue, our older husky mix, has finally decided the puppy is OK to be around now. Truly, there has been some kind of "aura change" -- Gem has a more peaceful persona. This doesn't mean calm, exactly... he is still very puppy-ish and loves to jump and play and bite Blue's tail.

Next Friday, I'll be having a "procedure" done on my back -- basically, the doctor will stick a big needle into the cyst, pull out any liquid, and then poke lots of holes in the cyst to see if it will collapse on itself. Then, she'll give me a steroid injection (aka lumbar epidural). The hope of being without pain after almost three months is fantastic! It has really raised my spirits.

So back to Gem... The three doggie daycare facilities I looked at were Dog City, Camp Bow Wow, and Arapahoe Animal Hospital Daycare.

Dog City, I hear, is under new management. Their Web site looks great - I thought, wow, this is the one! I called and set up a tour. When I got there, the lobby was empty; in a minute, someone came to the front desk but stopped me mid-sentence when she realized the puppies in the next room (who had otherwise been unsupervised) had made a poop mess that needed to be cleaned up. So, I waited. Five minutes, and then she was on the phone. Five more minutes. Finally, I just gave up and walked out. I was still OK with the place -- you know, sometimes people are just really busy. But, as I was walking out of the lobby and back to my car, I unknowingly stepped in a pile of dog poo, and didn't realize it until I was part way home -- that I had now gotten poo all over the floor of the driver's area. That capped it ... a place that is that poorly kept can't be good for your dog.

Next, Camp Bow Wow. I had hired a "personal trainer" for Gem, to help me out with his aggressive biting. Gigi Moss was recommended to me by my vet (Nancy Bureau at Alpine Hospital for Animals). Gigi was very helpful, and when I learned she taught her obedience classes at Camp Bow Wow, I figured it would be a good place for Gem. It is a very large, clean facility, with indoor and outdoor play areas, and staff on hand to keep a good eye on the dogs. And, of course, Camp Bow Wow offers the "camper cam," whereby folks can keep an eye on their dogs via the Web. That's good and bad -- the first time I watched, I was worried about Gem because he seemed to be playing too rough and jumping up and nipping the staff person. I called and told them they could give him time outs, and then he disappeared off camera -- off all the cameras. But the people there do a pretty good job, and eventually Gem's behavior improved. Yet, Gem was placed with the small dogs in a small fenced-off portion of a larger warehouse -- rarely were there any other puppies there -- so I don't think he was releasing the energy he needed to release, and when he came home, he seemed more agitated. (Addendum: The nice thing about Camp Bow Wow, though, is that advanced reservations are not required; that means I can run Gem in there anytime during the week if I need to.)

So, I had a look at Arapahoe Animal Hospital's daycare facility. I don't use this vet, but my aunt does, and before her, my grandmother (and I when I was a teenager and in college). The place has a good reputation, and the wife of one of the vets is a highly regarded breeder of champion golden retrievers (Becky Hayes, Redog Golden Retrievers).

At AAH's daycare, the dogs are mostly outdoors in play areas shaded by trees, with mini pup pools, dirt, some grass, and some faux grass. It seems lots of puppies go there -- Gem often has two or three other dogs his age to play with, plus some older dogs. When he comes home, he is usually very dirty and wet, but, also pretty tired. He goes right to sleep, so I can get on with my day (aka, go back to work; he's doing half days right now).

Daycare at AAH has two more advantages: One, they're open seven days a week, with folks on staff every day, and even a vet available for emergencies. Two: They cost less than the other doggie daycare facilities.

Daycare and boarding is going to become very helpful to me next week, when I have the minor surgery/shot/whatever you want to call it. I'm not sure we'll actually board Gem, but it's nice to have it as a possibility.

I want to say a couple more things about what has worked for us. In my third post in this series, I talked about getting Gem a crate and a playpen. I just have to say -- the playpen has been the best thing ever. He sleeps in there now, with plenty of space to move around and to have a bowl of water, his bed, and bare tile floor (which is what be prefers). It's right in front of our sliding glass doors, so he has natural light and can look outside if he's awake. And if I want, I can go in there and sit with him.

Another thing: He's house-trained now, so we can have him wandering about with us when we are able to keep an eye on him. It's fun just sitting in the living room playing fetch, or hiding around the corner and having him come racing down the stairs to find me.

So, at 5 months, Gem has become a pleasure, though still an scamp and sometimes a pain. But mostly, lovey and fun to play with. As I've said before: It does get better!

Raising a Puppy - A few pictures

2011-07-01T15:56:00.000-06:00

Gem's growing up!
Find more pictures on my Flickr page.

Raising a Puppy - Ticket for Dog at Large

2011-06-29T12:16:00.002-06:00

Neighbors Complain Because Dogs Having Too Much Fun

Gem now has a criminal record — Today we received his first ticket for "dog at large." We were playing in our usual location when an animal control officer arrived. Lucky for our play group, only three of us were on-site at the time.

We were as pleasant as we could be with the officer, who was clearly "just doing her job" and treated us with respect and a sense of humor. There was no point in arguing — what we were doing was wrong — that is, if you go by the letter of the law.

In my opinion, allowing dogs to play in a fenced-in field that no one is using at 7:30 in the morning shouldn't be illegal. We dog "guardians" (Boulder uses this label, rather than "owner") ensure the field is left in pristine condition; we keep it cleaner than do the young little league players and their families. A single-use field paid for and maintained by the city (but note the several sponsor banners that help pay for the various leagues to play) is rather a waste of resources.

But, I get it. If lots of dogs came, if it were truly allowed to be a dog park, it would start looking ragged, as do most of the dog parks in the area.

What bothers me is that the animal control officer advised us that "we have been getting a lot of complaints..." and "one person's dog, which was on a leash, was chomped on by a dog off-leash in this field." I'd like to know who was doing the complaining and where in relation to the field they live. This isn't so I can be vindictive or retaliate in some way. I just would like to be able to wrap my head around exactly what was the problem. If we were making too much noise, that's something I would understand. The field seems far enough away from residences that this shouldn't be a problem, but I remember working night shift and trying to get to sleep in the early morning. It's difficult.

I've never seen dogs get in a fight in the field and never heard about a dog getting bitten. And I've never seen a dog ON leash in the field, so I'm not sure how the leashed dog could have been attacked by some unnamed vicious dog during our morning play sessions. And really, that doesn't matter. Clearly, someone was upset by something that happened, but didn't take the time to talk to people about it — or, fabricated the story to justify making the complaint.

I wonder if the complaint was made just based on the fact that we were violating an ordinance, regardless of the circumstances. Some people get so caught up in rules that they forget common courtesy. I know it can create anxiety and feel risky to talk to people about their dogs, but why not give it a try rather than "calling the cops" as the first course of action?

I'd love to find some stats to back this up (research project?): It seems to me that folks who complain about dogs have the highest incidence of requested anonymity. People like to judge and complain but not confront and explain. Especially in Boulder.

Gem is about to turn 4 months old and get the last of his puppy shots. Once he gets those, he'll be free to go to the real dog parks around the city. I'll miss the group of dogs we've made friends with, but I'm sure we'll find new friends. It's kind of ironic though, that in a city like Boulder that encourages alternative transportation and local parks, we'll have to drive at least 4 miles round trip just to go where it's legal to have a dog off-leash.

Raising a Puppy - Week 8+

2011-06-26T21:53:00.002-06:00

With a little help from my friends...
I've been off writing a bit because of back and hip pain — doc says I have sciatica, most likely caused by, say, about 2 months of chasing a little puppy around. I'm trying to take it a little easier, and am also getting some help from my friends — our morning play group, my friend Karina stepping in to "babysit," and advice from a local dog trainer.

First, the morning play group: Here we have Gem, Misha, Ellie, and Kavik, the four regulars at our neighborhood pre-workday play group. The oldest dog is about three, I think, and of course, Gem is the youngest (he was born 7 March 2011, so he's over 3 1/2 months old now). These guys play really well together, but usually pair off Misha with Ellie and Gem with Kavik.

Kavik and Gem seem to have a special bond — I think it has something to do with the fact that Kavik is such a nice dog and Gem has a fascination for pulling on his incredibly fluffy white fur.

They have a great time wrestling and running and generally wearing each other out.

Gem especially likes to pull on Kavik's tail, and sometimes I wonder at the big dog's patience.

Second: My friend Karina loves dogs — we met while walking our golden retrievers several years ago. Since then, both our big guys have passed on, so now Karina has stepped in as "Auntie." Yesterday was Bear's and my 1st anniversary (we got married in Vancouver last year), so Karina helped us out by taking care of Gem. Everyone had a good time and I learned I need to stop worrying so much about whether Gem will be OK and whether he might be too rough... I'm not the "be all and end all" for Gem.

I was worried about leaving Gem alone with Karina because he has been biting — hard. I have some rather impressive bruises to prove it, and lots of torn clothing. I've been quite exasperated with this behavior, so I called in a specialist: Gigi Moss of Boulder, recommended by my vet and by word of mouth. Gigi came out to my house today and gave me some great advice. One: I do not need to try to assume an "alpha" role with Gem and fight with him physically. Prying things from his mouth and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, or "clocking him one" as his breeder advised (which I did not do) will only serve to intensify his out-of-control feelings/behavior. If he's biting and pulling, "biting" and pulling back will not elicit the desired response, which is to get him to let go, to stop biting. He has to be "interrupted" — given something else he'd rather have in his mouth (and accompany that by saying "get it" or some other command that he will begin to associate with the redirect). I'll have to start carrying an arsenal of sticks and treats and toys — things that I know will catch his attention.

Gigi also explained that adult dogs will not discipline a puppy with force. At this age, they won't force him down or swat him or otherwise punish him. A well-balanced adult dog that has had enough of a puppy may say so with a growl, but the greater "punishment" is that it will simply get up and walk away.

The worst (and best) thing you can do to an attention-seeking puppy is to deny it attention! Pulling and yelling and pushing and begging and getting all wound up works great if you want the puppy to pull, bark, push, beg, and get more wound up. Of course, when you're out on a walk, you can't simply drop the leash and leave your pup, but you can redirect the behavior and, if nothing else, tie the leash to a tree and turn your back for a minute.

Caveat: I'm writing quickly and putting what I gathered from Gigi today in my own words, so any factual errors or misstatements are all mine. Gigi had more hints that I'll take more time to put into action and cover here in greater detail. Gem, Bear, and I will be meeting with her again in a couple of weeks to check in and learn some other skills.

The best thing about working with a trainer: Having another human to talk to. Reading is great; taking your dog to socialization classes is great — but sometimes you need the one-on-one discussion time to reinforce what you know, to ask questions, and to develop the specific skills you need to nurture a healthy, mutually enjoyable relationship with your pup.

Today I have a true sense of a bright future for me and Gem.

Raising a Puppy - Week 6 addendum

2011-06-13T22:20:00.001-06:00

Just when you think you have everything right...

I'm coming to learn that raising a puppy is sometimes about taking two steps forward and one step back. Today was one of those days when I felt like we were sliding backward. Little pup has been nippy all day, and I have the torn shorts to prove it. Holding him down until he takes a deep breath is getting harder, because he's getting bigger and stronger. So, I have to come up with an alternate plan. That requires that I remember everything I have in my arsenal. One easy tool that's easy to forget when I have a puppy jumping on me: While he has no idea what "no" and "stop!" mean, he will sit on command. He will high-five and go down all the way. Next time he becomes a whirling dervish or a little Tasmanian devil, I will try using my commands. Right now I'm not feeling very confident, but we'll see. I have also been trying to redirect his attention to a toy or a stick, but currently this approach only has about a 25% success rate.

Speaking of confidence (or lack thereof): I'm reading Cesar Millan's book, Cesar's Way, right now. I've also watched several seasons of his television show, "The Dog Whisperer." Comparing how I'm doing with what Cesar says leaves me feeling very pale to the task. Every interaction I have with Gem I'm thinking, "Calm-assertive energy; I have to have calm-assertive energy." Then I'm thinking, "But I'm freakin' frustrated! How can I have calm-assertive energy when I'm so frustrated?" Can you be frustrated and calm-assertive? I'm working on it. I'll let you know.

And yes, Cesar Millan readers, I am remembering his other mantra: "Exercise, discipline, and affection, in that order." This puppy gets up to an hour of play and walk time in the morning and up to two hours of play and walk time in the evening, along with a midday break with brushing or exercise depending on his energy level. Sometimes I wonder if I'm giving him too much exercise. Discipline: When I get bored with exercise alone, we work on training. Until those things are done, it's actually difficult to give the puppy affection because his energy level is too high. That doesn't mean I don't encourage him and pat him when he does things right — especially when we retrieves the toy we are playing with. Affection and play and exercise kind of go hand in hand, but foremost is play and exercise.

If you read my last post, you'll know that one thing I am not doing according to the Cesar Millan plan is waiting to feed the puppy until after he has had some exercise. I know when Gem grows up, I will have to feed him after exercise in order to avoid bloat (a highly dangerous and often fatal condition that you can learn more about by following the link), but for now, it's better to feed him first.

These ups and downs are natural, but that doesn't mean they're easy. It's hard on everyone in the household, and that in turn adds to the stress. But when I find myself questioning whether getting this puppy was a bad idea, I realize I wouldn't want to be doing anything else. I would just rather I were doing it better — and that Gem would be, well, more of a gem and less of a fire brand. To think I almost named him Sparky...

Raising a Puppy - Week 6

2011-06-13T17:30:00.000-06:00

It does get better... It does get better...

But how do you get to "better"? Lots of patience, energy, time, and consistency. And — now this sounds easy, but it's not always — you've got to pay attention. Just as much as you need the puppy to pay attention to you, you've got to pay attention to it.

I'm learning Gem's "moods" and mannerisms and how to interpret them. So far, I'm pretty clear on how he acts when he needs to "go to the bathroom" (starts nosing around the living room) so that we haven't had an accident in the house for a couple of weeks.

That down, I now need to pay attention to how tired he is. A tired puppy is a lot like a tired toddler — cranky and downright ornery. Gem snaps and jumps and even sometimes growls and bites when he's tired. My goal is to put him down for the night or for a nap before that happens, but sometimes I'm stuck outside with him trying to figure out how to get him back to the house. For now, carrying him is OK, but I'd rather lure him in with some tasty treats (make him follow his nose, as Cesar Millan recommends). Lesson: Always carry a handful of tiny but attractive puppy treats [list of favorites to come].

Also very important: Is he hungry? Have you ever noticed a young pup jumping up on its canine mom, grabbing her fur, and generally being a nuisance when it wants to nurse? Translate that to 3-mo-old puppy behavior and you have torn clothing and a frustrated human. I'm making it a priority to see that Gem has eaten a proper amount of breakfast or dinner before we head out on a walk. This makes life a lot nicer and easier for both of us.

What do I mean by "a proper amount"? Well, Gem sort of does what I call "drive-by eating" — he'll grab some food and then move on to play or go outside or fall back asleep. I have to set the bowl back in front of him (after making him sit-stay); usually, he eats all or almost all the food on the second go. Regarding quantity: I give him about one and a quarter cups of kibble at each meal (incl. lunch, which he'll get for another month or so), with some white rice and either a dollop of plain Greek yogurt or a tablespoon of canned puppy food on top to get him interested. He doesn't always eat all the food, but sometimes he licks the bowl clean (at which point I give him a little more). It's important for his growth and my peace of mind to see to it that he does eat a reasonable amount. When he gets older, I am sure I will have the opposite problem...

The good stuff: Gem is called "well-adjusted" in his puppy socialization class. He can go through the little agility tunnels all by himself (such a good boy!), and he learned to go up and down the stairs with almost no fear and very few treats. Gem is intrepid: He goes boldly forward into, say, McGuckins (a Boulder hardware store), and walks about calmly, but with keen interest in all the smells. He does not jump on people who want to pet him, nor does he shy away; he approaches with tail wagging. Gem is getting used to all kinds of activity: We have bikers, skateboarders, runners, and children going by our place all the time. Dogs and their owners pass by, and Gem will sit calmly and watch, or go say hi if I tell him he can. The best of the good stuff: I can pet him and brush him and even trim his nails while he chews quietly on a rawhide or even just lies back in the grass, gently nibbling it and stretching to show me his little tummy.

Raising a Puppy - Week 5

2011-06-07T16:39:00.000-06:00

This has been a very active week. I've been working on keeping Gem's mind challenged and his body ... exhausted ... OK, well not exhausted, but busy enough that when it's time to sleep, he SLEEPS. And yes! We have done it - he has slept through the night five out of the last 7 nights.

On a more basic level, Gem's new sleep pattern involves a learning curve on my part and a growth curve on his: (1) I learned that it's best not to give the puppy anything to eat or drink after about 7 p.m. so that he is more likely not to need to go out for several hours; (2) according to the vet, puppies Gem's age (3 months now!) can only go for about three to four hours at night before needing to pee, but Gem's little body seems to be getting used to things; he's down and out around 9 p.m. and of late has not been getting us up until about 5:30 or 6 a.m. (except this morning, of course).

Another reason for this is psychological: Gem overnights in his playpen now, with more room to stretch out so he is less likely to "object" when he tries to move around. This is one mobile puppy; when he's "sleeping" he often gets up and moves around, making about a 360 in his playpen over the course of a couple of hours.

Gem still remains in his crate when I am at work; it's safer for him and for the house (he may someday figure out how to jump out of the playpen). I make sure he gets out for a walk midday and then again as soon as I get home.

Firsts this week: Gem and I got to jump in the creek and play around this weekend because it has been so much warmer lately. Also, Gem enjoys "helping" me water the plants on the deck and then splashing around a bit in his wading pool, which until this point we have kept dry. The vet warned me that until he is a little older, Gem cannot be left alone in his little pool even with just a couple of inches of water. Puppies don't have the best memories... sometimes they just forget what they're doing and fall asleep. The vet also noted that he should not go swimming until (A) he has had all his shots and (B) he can be trusted to not fall asleep or otherwise lose his swimming concentration.

Another first (of the not-so-good kind): Gem is starting to growl when we try to take an especially tasty chew-treat out of his mouth. This cannot be tolerated! I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pried the treat from his mouth. Now, whenever he gets a treat, I "practice" taking it away from him, then giving it back, and taking it away, so he gets used to the idea that giving up something isn't so bad. As well, while he is eating, I put my hand in his bowl, take the bowl away, and so forth, so it is crystal clear who controls his food.

Overall, little Gem has grown much sweeter. I can snuggle and kiss him (after exercise & discipline/training of course) a lot more, and no worries about being bitten. Oh the scent of fluffy puppy fur!

Raising a Puppy - Videos

2011-05-30T18:49:00.000-06:00

30 May: Gem's acting debut - a speaking role with closeup: http://www.youtube.com/user/keasmus?feature=mhee#p/u/0/poLmbAElnJY

30 May: Gem's marine training is in progress: http://www.youtube.com/user/keasmus?feature=mhee#p/u/1/UDJQY2lXAz8

30 May: Gem's wild pool party: http://www.youtube.com/user/keasmus?feature=mhee#p/u/2/puh-jehIM6I

21 May: Gem never stops: http://www.youtube.com/user/keasmus?feature=mhee#p/u/3/t-01ay3e2gw

Raising a Puppy - Week 4

2011-05-28T10:50:00.002-06:00

Quite a week it has been. So many ups and downs, but by the end of the week, more up than down.
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, Gemmie seemed to escalate from "puppy play-biting" up to aggressive, hard biting. I stopped letting passersby pet him, and worried that with Gem I'd bit off more than I could chew.
I don't bruise easily, so the two big bruises Gem left on my arm on Monday illustrate what to me was an unheard-of power for such a little pup. On Tuesday, I was to the point of sending him back to the breeder for (1) a weekend off and (2) remedial training/socialization with his sister and mother and the other goldens there.
But sending him away didn't feel right, so my husband, Bear, and I decided to redouble our efforts. We'd tried the "yipping" and "growling" suggested by books, Websites, and by the vet, but that did not cause Gem to stop or to loosen his grip. So, we moved to a stronger method, one used by Cesar Millan on his show, The Dog Whisperer. As soon as Gem started to bite one of us, we would yell "no" and then push him down to the ground, holding him on his side until he stopped struggling and let out a breath of relaxation.
It's hard, and I bet it looks scary and mean. But the puppy is not being hurt and, more importantly, neither is the human. I say more important, because in the long run, a puppy's well-being is measured by how well he interacts with others — especially other dogs and humans. An aggressive, undisciplined dog is an unhappy dog. Such behavior would not be tolerated in a pack, and fitting into the pack (family, neighborhood) is of great importance for a well-balanced dog.
And it works! Gem has not bitten me since Wednesday morning — that is, he has not bitten me for long! He is seemingly 10 times more gentle now than he was a week ago. I can caress his face and not fear being bitten. In fact, he seems to be enjoying the softer attention much more now.
As anyone raising a puppy knows, this fight isn't over. It will require consistent, calm discipline. But it's empowering to both human and dog to know it is something that can be handled and overcome.
Speaking of empowering to the human — last night I learned something about myself and about Gem that my sleep-deprived over-worrying was not letting me see. Gem is a good dog. I am a good trainer. We work well together.
We went to our first puppy socialization class at the local humane society. Gem was the biggest pup there and I was worried he'd be overbearing and aggressive. Not so. He was gentle and calm and he was the first pup to display the classic play bow. It was interesting to note that other folks in the class did not know what that meant.
What made me most proud of Gem, though, was when the trainer asked to use him to help the more shy pups. The class was made up of two very small corgis (wow are they cute; they look like little long-eared guinea pigs!) and two under-socialized humane society adoptees. First, the trainer separated the larger adoptees from the very shy corgis, then had Gem lie down and stay while the corgis came up to him. They were praised whenever they came near, and they were able to learn that this big dog with the strange waiving appendage (when had they seen a tail before?) was not a threat and that they were safe. A great confidence builder.
After a while, Gem was moved to the other side of the room with the larger pups. He initiated play and they had a good time. One of the pups, Lucy, was having a harder time, because she was afraid of humans as well. So, while Gem played, I enticed Lucy to me with treats until she turned and allowed me to pet her bottom. Soon, she'll be more relaxed around everyone.
Gem is promoted to the 12- to 18-week-old puppy group next week, and so is Lucy and the other bigger pup. I'm looking forward to seeing them get to know each other more and having Gem help work out their "issues" (hah! and mine!). Also, it will be nice to have Gem be around a larger bunch of pups to see how it is for him to be the small one.
Another cool thing: They had a little tunnel in the training room, and I got Gem to go through it on the first try! I'm thinking for sure this guy and I will really enjoy agility training when the time comes.
And one last benefit — nothing's better after a long day than a tired puppy...

Repost - Poem to A Friend

2011-05-21T12:08:00.000-06:00

Life doesn't need to come all at once.

There is no disappointment in not achieving things

Exactly as planned

As you think it is supposed to be.

Sometimes life's problems come from our own striving

Our own imagining of how it should go

Rather than stepping back

Being quiet

Accepting what IS at this moment

What is good in this moment

Even if it is but the smallest detail.

It's hard when the rush of life comes at you like a stormy sea

To stop and see it all as continuity

Each drop linked to each drop

Even to the quiet and stillness of the deep.

I originally posted this on 26 December 2010, in prep for the New Year. Having just read it again, I thought it was pretty good, and something to focus on each day, so I'm posting it again. The picture was taken far up the Skagway River in Alaska.

Raising a Puppy - Week 3

2011-05-21T09:17:00.002-06:00

Week three, but it seems like months. I love this little pup, but oh the work! Last night I was up at midnight and 4 a.m. to take him out; my husband was stuck with the 5:30 cries. The vet (Nancy Bureau at Alpine Hospital for Animals — Buddy's vet all his life) says that until Gem is 12 weeks old, he will need to go out at least twice per night. From 12 to 16 weeks, he'll only have to go out once per night. And I'm sure he will sleep; last night I had to carry a sleep-drugged puppy out into the dark. Then he went right back to sleep after peeing.
In case I didn't mention it before, we are crate-training (Gem's is a Pet Gear collapsible crate). It's the best way to ensure that a dog is safe during the night and that he does not pee or poop inside the house. Dogs, even little puppies, will not soil their own little territories, unless left with no other choice after hours of neglect. Gem also has a "play pen," which I highly recommend. This is where he goes to wind down after a walk or after play — he tends to get bite-y when he's tired, and the playpen helps to keep me safe from some very painful nipping. It also helps him settle before I put him in his crate and head off to work.
Speaking of nipping — all puppies "play bite," but for some, this can get out of control, especially when the pup is tired or hungry, and I have the bruises and tiny cuts to prove it (I don't think on a younger person the puppy would actually break the skin, but skin that grows more delicate as we age runs in my family). I asked the vet how to make Gem stop. Her advice: (1) put him down to sleep before he gets tired enough to bite; (2) make sure he has eaten his breakfast/lunch/dinner; and (3) correct him with loud yips and growls when he is biting, just like a big dog would. Sounds easy. But then she notes that a puppy his age will need to be corrected a hundred times or more before he gets it. It feels like I've already done that... but the idea is consistency — I can't let it pass even once. Glad I have nice neighbors who understand puppy training! This site has even more great information, with videos, of how to stop the puppy from biting.
What else did I learn while at the vet?
To help the puppy want to be in his crate and/or playpen, give all treats there (unless you are training) and give no affection while and right after you remove him from the crate or playpen.
Food: Puppies can have two or three mini-carrots if they like them. Gem chomps them down — this meets his desire to chew (and a cool carrot can be soothing to a teething pup) and is healthy in moderation. Gem also likes frozen green beans; encouraging this will help later in life because most golden retrievers have a tendency to be very food oriented and to gain weight if not managed carefully.
I also learned that I should feed Gem three times per day, as much as he will eat. Puppies tend to graze — they grab a few pieces of kibble, then go off to play, then come back, repeat, until they are full, or until five minutes have passed. Once five minutes have passed, the food bowl can be removed. I always throw a handful of kibble into his playpen or crate when he's going to spend some time there.
Unfortunately, Gem is a hardcore dirt eater. Nothing better than soil, as far as he is concerned. Dr. Bureau recommends having something even tastier with me to "bribe" him with (cooked, cubed chicken works; I freeze it to make it a little harder to eat up) so that he lets go of the dirt and takes that instead. She does caution, however, that this will take up to 100 corrections before he stops the behavior.
About places to go and ways to play: Dr. Bureau recommends no dog parks or places where dogs congregate outdoors until Gem is at least four months old. He can go to the pet store or the local hardware store — places that have been cleaned up after pet visits. And when we're out, Gem is allowed to play with big dogs, but no puppies I don't know, in case they have not been vaccinated yet. The exception is when he goes to socialization/play class at the local humane society, because they require health records before a puppy can join in.
Finally, even though he is a golden retriever, born for swimming, he cannot yet go swimming. Dr. Bureau explained that puppies have a very short attention span and can drown. I could just picture Gem out in the water, paddling about, and then, distracted or sleepy, forgetting what he was doing and sinking like a rock. She says that really can happen.

I got Gem a little swimming pool, but for now we're playing in it dry. The vet advises that just like a small child, Gem should not be left unsupervised in even two inches of water. But Gem seems to be having a great time in the empty pool, as you can see from his wild-eyed friskiness.
Gem was born on 7 March 2011; he's now 11 weeks old. One more week, and I should be able to sleep for more than 3-4 hours at a time. Please, please, please let it be true!

Raising a Puppy - Week 2.1

2011-05-15T21:17:00.000-06:00

Some hours of the day, this is all I hope for... Gem to fall asleep. But I have learned something: Gem doesn't need to play so hard in order to fall asleep (case in point: too many toys in this picture). In fact, playing too hard makes it harder for him to wind down. When he gets fussy and toothy (boy, it hurts when he nips!), it means he's tired, but too tired to just lie down and rest. He needs my help - so now I have taken to giving him "time outs." It seems to be working.

I also just switched his food. Either the probiotic meds are taking effect (he had giardia) and his tummy feels better or the new food is somehow making him calmer. Tonight was the first night I could just sit with him without having to tug on a toy or hide my hands so he wouldn't bite them.

I'll let you know, after I give it further consideration, and it seems like that really is what made the difference, what I changed his food from & to. It could be, too, that he is starting to settle in more.

In any case, I am very much looking forward to our first "puppy socialization class" at the humane society on Friday. And even though I trained Buddy up well and know a fair amount about dogs and training in general, I'm looking forward to getting in some puppy kindergarten classes. There's nothing like being with a group of folks who can bounce ideas off each other, create a positive learning environment for both pups and humans, and get advice they didn't even know they needed.

Until then... sweet dreams.

Raising a Puppy - Week 2

2011-05-11T19:40:00.000-06:00

It does get better. It does get better. It does get better... Slowly, over the course of the second week, the puppy stops smelling like spoiled milk and more like soft, sweet, fuzziness. And then he bites you...

Gem is one active guy - and no signs of fear! He meets other dogs head on (well, with the appropriate deference, more like side to the head on [What, don't you watch The Dog Whisperer? You'd understand what I mean if you did.]). He's very observant and is not troubled by new situations. In fact, my nickname for him is "Intrepid One."

I've been taking lots of pictures and getting very little sleep. In fact, I should be sleeping now rather than writing this post. I can hardly wait until Gem sleeps through the night... Right now his little bladder is just too small to wait 8 hours, or even 6, or 5... oooppppppppssssssssss I just fell asleep......

Here are a few shots of the little monster, I mean, darling - depending on time of day - the earlier in the day, the sweeter he is; by bedtime, he's like a toddler, fighting sleep with every ounce of energy. He bites and fights but when I put him down in his crate, he whines for a bit and then is sound asleep.

This series of photos is titled "this guy never stops." Until he hits the wall, he doesn't. He has places to go, things to dig up, and balls to kill. Oh, and the occasional pot to stick his head in.

Raising a Puppy - Week 1

2011-05-05T10:31:00.000-06:00

Gem! I adopted Gem (or Farm Fresh Buns in the Oven's Gem Lake [formal name; mom's name is Buns]) from Beckett Ranch in Lyons, Colorado, on 1 May 2011. He was born on 7 March 2011, so that makes him a little over 8 weeks old. This puppy caught my eye because he makes eye contact and seems to like to "pose" for pictures.

Like any puppy, he's quite a handful. Or many hands full... For the first three days, I was so sleep deprived I even fell asleep just inside the front door after taking him out for a potty break in the middle of the night. Today is the first day I've felt awake enough to write.

This is really hard. I do not recommend that you get a puppy unless you are prepared for it to be much harder than you think. Separation anxiety is the most difficult thing to battle here, and Blue Aroo, our 13-year-old husky mix, is finding the puppy's crying & barking very trying. He sees it as a distress call, which it is, and he panics and/or comes to us to fix the problem. I'm hoping we can work this out by treating Blue the same as usual, except doing things like feeding him turkey while puppy is nearby and puppy gets nothing, etc., to reinforce that he is alpha and all is OK.

The easiest thing so far has been potty training, with just two accidents in the house that were my fault because I wasn't paying attention. Gem has figured out how to ask at the door to go out. Next (when he stops trying to eat it), I will hang a bell on the doorknob for him to ring when he needs out.

Like Buddy before him, Gem seems to prefer sleeping spread out on the tile floor or with his head up on something. He also moves around a lot, waking up for a couple of seconds, turning around, and going back to sleep. I just wish he would be OK with sleeping peacefully in his crate or in his playpen.

I should probably be sleeping now to catch up on rest I'm missing in the middle of the night. Twice up and outside. This is when I really miss having a yard, but, on the other hand, I wouldn't leave him out in the yard unsupervised, and we have a park-like lawn right outside our deck's fence. Gem is doing well; I have to just remember to breathe and sleep when I can.

I took this week off; I'm not sure how going back into the office next week will work. I'll keep you updated!

The Great Outdoors

2011-03-20T22:17:00.007-06:00

As I was hiking this morning along the Marshall Mesa trail south of Boulder, Colorado, I thought about how much I enjoy being outdoors. In fact, I thought, if I could live my entire life outdoors, I would be happy.

Probably that is an exaggeration, but not too far from the core truth: I find a satisfaction and peace when I am outside that I do not feel when indoors. I have already told Bear (my husband) that if I have the choice of where to die (when the time comes), I would like him to wheel my cot out under the cottonwood tree where I can watch the leaves glint in the sun and listen to the wind rustle the branches.

I have had the good fortune of growing up and living in some of the most beautiful places in the United States: northern California and Boulder, Colorado. As I look back, I'm amazed at how much time I spent outside. I realize as I am typing this that it's a bit of a cliché, but nonetheless true: we didn't have a lot of money, but we were rich in environment.

My family played, picnicked, and hiked along creeks surrounding the Boulder area (catching crawdads with my brothers in Skunk Creek); visited Petrified Forest National Park; and stood in the center of the Four Corners, where New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and Utah come together — all before I was 8 years old.

In California, I spent hours outside catching ladybugs, swinging on the gymnasium rings in the school playground, riding bikes, playing cars with my brothers, running through the sprinklers, and generally just having a good time.

By the time I was ten, we were living in Eureka, California, way up north in the land of the giant redwoods, amongst which we camped and hiked when we had a chance to get out of town. In town, there was plenty of adventure; I rode my bike everywhere, or I'd walk, fishing pole in hand, down to the wharf to catch little flat fish that were no good for eating but still provided some satisfaction in the catching.

Our family spent a lot of time at the beach, especially Clam Beach (where we'd dig for clams then take them home, shuck them, and make great chowder) and Agate Beach (where I collected agates and made wax candles in the sand).

In Sebastopol, California, where we moved when I was 11, we had apple groves, and my friend and I spent many an afternoon seated high up on the piled tree stakes eating the biggest apples we'd ever seen, the juice running down our wrists. I bought my first little Brownie camera when I was 12, and walked everywhere, taking pictures. A creek behind our apartment building was a source of endless fun, and we'd come home happy in the afternoon scratched up from raiding the raspberry bushes that grew near its banks.

Near Sebastopol is Bodega Bay. Now, it's a tourist/resort town, all built up and expensive. But when I was 12, it was paradise visiting one of my mother's friends there, staying in her little house, walking to the strawberry fields and picking bunches with which to make jam, and walking just a little further over some grassy dunes to the beach to play in the sand and sea.

We also had great adventures swimming in the Eel River and the Russian River and lots of fun digging holes and creating forts in the sand at Goat Rock Beach, where the Russian River meets the sea.

At 14, we'd moved to Walnut Creek, California. There, I bought a used ten-speed, and I was everywhere. I'd gotten a volunteer job at a school 4 or 5 miles from home and rode there every Saturday. I rode my bike to school and even further to summer school. When we lived in Novato, California, for a short time, I even raced the bus to school (and often won). Also in Novato, my younger brother and I would take hikes into the nearby hills, where once we saw a deer and thought that was one of the most impressive things ever.

By 16, I'd moved again, back to Boulder to live with my grandmother and aunt. And so draws the circle round. That was 1979; in the last 32 years, I've had many, many more outdoor adventures, by bike, by foot, and, during my honeymoon last year, by ship, zipline, and helicopter. One of my favorite sounds is of hiking boots on a trail; one of my favorite sights is that of hawks circling on thermals overhead. And then there's the cottonwood tree; as soon as the weather warms a bit more, I'll be out there in the evenings, watching as the moon passes over. And soon I'll add chapters to this blog to tell about more of my favorite places.

Addendum: I'm about to read the book Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder. I had this in mind as I wrote parts of this post — I'll give you a book report when I'm done!

I'm taking a class - here's my first lesson

2011-03-17T22:06:00.002-06:00

I'm taking a class on writing a memoir. We have to describe a family object in 200 words or less. Here's my take, and, believe me, I had trouble keeping it under the word count; in fact, it is exactly 200 words and could be much more.

I'm looking at a large, yellow Pyrex bowl, the last of a set of different colored nesting bowls. It's a buttery, lemon-pie kind of yellow, and the inside is white, smooth and shiny like a polished shell, with traces of fine gray scratches from whisks and spoons going around and around on the bottom.

The bowl nicely reflects the light, and I can see my hands through it when I hold it up to the bulb. It is pleasing to look at and to hold. Its heft is solid; on the kitchen scale, it weighs 3.41 pounds.

Somehow it reminds me of the belly of a pregnant woman. Round, warm, something people are drawn to rub. It is a vestige of my childhood.

Yes, the bowl holds warmth. That's probably why it makes such a good bread bowl, cradling yeasty dough as it rises round against a dish towel cover. I remember getting to pull back the towel and punch the dough down with my fist. Wumph!

I guess I love this bowl, which my mother has passed on to me. I'm amazed that it's one of the few things that traveled through my childhood unbroken, un-lost, unsullied with sadness.

Well, I've gone and done it...

2011-03-17T08:09:00.000-06:00

Wrote a post for the Scientific American guest blog: Social Media for Science: Geological Perspective. Be gentle dear readers!

Lillie Henrietta Ibser Asmus

2011-01-27T20:39:00.013-07:00

Tomorrow marks the 8th anniversary of my grandmother's death. Lillie Henrietta Ibser was born the oldest daughter to an immigrant Czech (Bohemian) family on 4 March 1906. She died of old age in Boulder, Colorado, USA, on 28 January 2003. Lillie was a remarkable woman, and I fear this post, written in haste to mark the anniversary, won't do her justice.

A little family history:

Henry Ibser, my grandmother's father, was an orphan who was raised by the family Novak in Prague. The family is believed to have been grocers because one of his tasks was to wash radishes in the Moldau River and hurry home before the radishes freezed. He had no shoes, so he would wrap his feet in newspapers. The Novaks also had a son named Yindrik (Henry). When his adoptive mother was dying, she called for Yindrik, and they brought her biological son, but she was calling for the adopted son, and this would have been the last time she could have told him who he was. Henry, who played the violin quite well, emigrated to the United States at the age of 14.

Lillie Vitek went to a convent school in Prague. She came to the United States with her aunt (whose married name was Masar) during her teens, much to the ire of the rest of her family, who cut off all contact. She married and gave birth to my grandmother, her first child, when she was 18.

Grandma said that when she was a little girl, one day she and her mother were walking by a convent, and her mother said, “I would rather you were six feet under than in a place like that.”

Grandma’s mother and father met when he attended a church where she was singing and, the story goes, she winked at him. Henry made work first as an itinerant Methodist preacher and then as an encyclopedia salesman.

Though he preached the gospel, Henry Ibser was quite grim. His children (six of them: Lillie, Henry, Gertrude, Ruth, Rose, and Homer) were not allowed to play games, dance, or engage in any other "frivolity." Thus, my grandmother grew up in a cheerless home of literally all work and no play. Even learning the violin was a forced task.

Grandma broke with her family when, as a young lady, she argued with her father about African Americans. Again, even though he preached the gospel, Henry Ibser was a hateful bigot. Grandmother did not agree with his bigotry, and after an argument over race, she was asked to leave and never come back.

She remained closest with her youngest brother, Homer Ibser. Homer crossed the family by marrying a Japanese woman, so in a way, they became orphans unto themselves.

My grandmother attended college in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her desire was to study biology, but her father felt that was not appropriate for a young woman, so she compromised and studied botany and fine art. For most of her life, Lillie was an accomplished artist using block prints as her preferred medium.

Lillie met my grandfather, Ernest Asmus, when she was about 29 years old. He was a farm boy; she, a city girl. He was ready for adventure, and proposed a honeymoon trip of bicycling through Europe. This was in 1935, shortly before the beginning of WWII there. Lillie had never ridden a bicycle before, but they did it — took a ship to Liverpool, England, outfitted their two bicycles, and began a three-month ride.

This is a story I wish I could've gotten down on paper before Grandma died. Quite an odyssey it must have been! I just have a couple of anecdotes that come to mind quite often. First, as they were bicycling through France, they stopped at a farm and asked to fill their water bottles. With water. The farm family was aghast — "Water? Why would you want to drink water? We have wine or milk." So, they drank milk (remember, Lillie grew up in a strict Methodist household). Another anecdote: My grandfather and grandmother spent some time camped outside a Dutch family's house, which was on a dike. During WWII, that dike was bombed and destroyed. The family contacted my grandparents, who were able to send them much-needed supplies. My aunt still receives letters and small gifts from that family all these years on.

The most remarkable thing about my grandmother, I think, is her recovery from a stroke at 58 and her accompanying spirit of adventure. She had a stroke after losing a job at the University of Colorado in 1964, and her left side, speech, and ability to hand-write were all affected. But she powered through, spending much time after this typing letters and walking everywhere she could.

After her stroke, my grandmother found work as a housekeeper and caretaker for a fairly well-known cellist, Cornelius Van Vliet, who lived in Boulder, Colorado. When he died, Mr. Van Vliet left my grandmother $10,000, which in the early 1970s was an incredible amount of money. Grandma was able to pay off the mortgage on her house and use the rest of the money for travel, as called for in the bequest.

Lillie's first trip was to Bhutan in 1975. She was a member of the first American tourist party allowed into the country, and made the trek around the mountain kingdom with renowned mountaineer Tenzing Norgay. I had the pleasure of talking with her many times about this trip, and an article I wrote about the adventure was published in the 28 June 1992 issue of the Boulder Daily Camera. I also wrote about the trip in an earlier blog post.

Grandma completed another trek in the Scottish Hebrides in 1980 and took other trips, mostly to the UK. More stories I wish I could have recorded!

I lived with my grandmother when I was seven and again when I was 17, when I moved to Colorado from California to finish high school. Without my grandmother's influence on my life, I'm not sure where I would be today.

I helped take care of my grandmother during the last years of her life. The hardest part wasn't that she was nearly blind or nearly deaf or nearly crippled with arthritis — it was that she no longer knew who I was. Instead, I was "that girl who lives in the back" (the back bedroom), and she did not like me very much.

When it became too hard for my aunt and me to take care of Grandma on our own, we moved her to a local nursing home. Grandma actually blossomed there. For one thing, her main nurse (CNA) was a young man from Bhutan! She loved him (once even hinting to me that if she were younger she would marry him). Yes, she even liked me better, though still did not really know me.

Three days before my grandmother died, a nurse phoned to tell us to "come quickly." Something had changed — grandma was alert, happy, and talking. For much of the time prior, she had been sinking farther and farther away.

When I got to the nursing home, grandma recognized me and told me she loved me. What a gift! Another gift: I got to sit next to her, holding her hand, when, three days later, she took her last breaths.

After she died, the Bhutanese and Nepalese members of the staff came quietly into her room, bowed a Namaste, and parted in peace. I crawled into the narrow bed and lay beside my dear abuelita (which was my nickname for her) just as I had when she was at home and awakened terrified that she was dying. Then, I lay next to her to comfort her; this night, I lay next to her to comfort me.

True to her nature, that of living outside of other's expectations, my grandmother insisted that her body be donated to science. I know that's a great thing to do, but it has always been hard for me. Even when I wasn't living with her, I always knew where she was. For once, I would no longer know. I hope she has been a helpful teacher, and I hope she rests somewhere in peace.

We did have a memorial service for Grandma. I spoke at the service and then played the song, "There's a Hero," because that's what Grandma was to me. The lyrics say, "There's amazing strength in a willing hand; there are victories that you never planned." Grandma was willing to take care of me when no one else would. And if I had one thing to say to Grandma's spirit, it would be what the song says, "Go on and trust yourself — you can ride the wind."

They sell crayons in the hotel lobby

2011-01-13T20:27:00.002-07:00

They sell crayons in the hotel lobby. Just a 16-pack, but that's something, anyway.

Robert Krulwich said tonight in his Science Online 2011 keynote (this about Radio Lab and radio in general), "When I give you the words, you get the brush." That is the "magic of radio" — words are actually richer without pictures; everyone gets to paint his or her own story.

If I were at home, I'd have the watercolors and crayons out and the BIG sheet of paper across on the kitchen table. Ready.

Actually, I'd probably "paint" with torn up scraps of paper and magazines, because that's my way. But the point is...

I am trying to express what I got out of tonight's keynote talk. A sense of bubbling over. Of playfulness. A desire to paint with words, knowing I will never, ever get them on the canvas right. When I level my brush at the blank canvas, the words jumble and hang askew.

No, I did not have any of the fancy bourbon at the reception tonight. I had PEOPLE and WORDS. Engaging discussions, a fantastic lecture. People as interested (or more so) as I am in the topic at hand.

Suffice for now that I tack down a few of notes:

Krulwich spoke about the music, the sound, of life, of our lives, kind of in a generational way. What sounds surrounded you when you were young, growing, and now older (whatever age that means)? From thirteen on for me is the sound of my powder-blue portable Smith Corona typewriter. Clack - stick - clack clack - stick - more clacks - ping! Zing.... back to the start of the next line. I typed and typed and typed - I loved the feel of the keys, the sound, the way words came out onto the paper. I so wanted to BE A WRITER.

What other sounds surrounded me? Whirr.... ten-speed, twelve-speed, 18-speed narrow bike tires against the road, Verdi's Four Seasons in my head as a racked up the miles.

Purr purring amplified against my ear. Flick flash. My mother lighting a cigarette with her plastic Bic lighter. Metallic crumpling - smash, skitter, smash - against the cement floor of the garage - my little brother flattening aluminum cans to trade in at the grocery store. Silence, silence, holding my own breath in so I could hear — because hearing somehow made the dreaded awfulness somehow safer? I'm holding my breath right now.

Whoosh! The gas heater coming on in the middle of the night, the whispers of my brothers and me talking about "what to do" as we sat in our pajamas in front of it.

Clank - reverb - the sound of a locker slamming shut and swinging open again. The barely imperceptible swish of paper falling, swaying, drifting to the ground. I can almost hear the scratch of my mother's pen on the legal pad, the sound of her ripping three letters *snap* from the tablet, one for each of us. I crumpled it. I threw it away.

Sigh. Reel it in - back to some happy sounds, shall we? My first record player - Petula Clark! Then came disco... Disco Inferno. And YES. Yes.

Seong Min playing Chopin's Scherzo #3. The scratch swish of my jeans against the dusty church floor underneath the grand piano where she played. Sneaking in - the push and pop of the lever-release door handle.

Mother singing "Oh what a beautiful morning," and "I feel pretty, oh so pretty..."

Scott telling stories, always making me laugh. Robbie and the plinky sorting and clicking of Legos.

The sound of a whip just before it hits you...

Hearing your little brother cry but not remembering whether you did too.

Oh, here we go again.

Let's bring it to the present day. Santana. India Arie AND Santana. Nothing more to say here.

(And this, friends, is the essence of "Dragonfly Wars" as I tried to explain to Steve Silberman tonight. Please see my first post...)

Poem to a Friend

2011-01-05T17:47:00.001-07:00

Painted Passerine

Little bird —

Hope in one eye,

Mischief in the other,

Mocks the rainbow

And laughs at the wind:

Cheeky, brave, and free.

May such cheer hold you

Aloft, awing,

Like this little bird,

Unbound by life's travails.

(inspired by pictures of Gouldian finches)

Fresh Start

2011-01-01T11:15:00.003-07:00

Remember when we saw the world for the first time?

Happy 2011!

Preparing for the New Year

2010-12-26T12:40:00.000-07:00

On New Year's Eve 2009, I wrote this poem:

Today I am happy
Contentment soaks my body like oxygen
I hear Maya Angelou say "And still I rise"
And I lean back into my chair
Appreciative.

I hope that all of you have many occasions to feel this way now and throughout the coming year.

I ask your indulgence as I offer a few more bits of poetry written by me in 2009-2010:

3 Jan. (haiku):
Sun trifles with Earth
a fitful novice lover
clouds drift to part them

8 Feb. (when we actually had snow):
Fat fluffy snowflakes swirling
make dogs happy, twirling,
dipping, plowing, faces down,
white masks shine up, eyes bright

19 Feb. (upon the illness of a friend's pet):
A season cannot contain a pet's love
nor a lifetime diminish it
These tender spirits intertwine our lives
like dancing, breezy candle flames

13 Apr. (haiku):
Little plum blossoms
hold on on tight while April's winds
clear off winter's dead

27 Nov. (haiku challenge, word: abandon):
fog, wind, sand, driftwood
deep abandoned childhood
sorrow settles here

5 Oct. (on turmoil):
Perhaps this is my challenge
to accept without caveat
that which is
to release, seek peace, not resist
powerlessness
I bow

Last night, to a friend:
Life doesn't need to come all at once.
There is no disappointment in not achieving things
Exactly as planned
As you think it is supposed to be.
Sometimes life's problems come from our own striving
Our own imagining of how it should go
Rather than stepping back
Being quiet
Accepting what IS at this moment
What is good in this moment
Even if it is but the smallest detail.
It's hard when the rush of life comes at you like a stormy sea
To stop and see it all as continuity
Each drop linked to each drop
Even to the quiet and stillness of the deep.

Time to start blogging again

2010-11-12T09:18:00.002-07:00

Just registered for #scio11 — ScienceOnline2011 and am thinking about where I am in terms of my own blog. I don't think I've ever really decided if this is a completely personal blog, or part science & part personal, or something else. I started with an explanation of the title: Dragonfly Wars. My most detailed post came on 27 March, discussing a New Scientist article: "Food, not flab, is the real killer," by Andy Coghlan. This post combined science and personal experience. Another post I am particularly proud of is my 4 April entry, "Branding Bhutan — or the story of a 'Trek through Time'." This post again combined science (in particular, an article in the 19 Feb. 2010 Science magazine, "Improbable partners aim to bring biotechnology to Himalayan Kingdom") and personal experience — that of my grandmother's trek in Bhutan with Tenzing Norgay back in 1975.

After that, the blog has become a little more personal, while still touching on topics of interest to a wider audience. "Sugar: I've cut it out" (28 April) is my take on how to cut sugar out of a person's diet. I have yet to go into greater detail as to how that has helped me in several arenas to become a more balanced person. An 8 August post, "Cleaning up," reacted to the book Nickled and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich, going off on tangents about my life as a maid, a housekeeper, and a group-home counselor. I'm also proud of this entry, but don't know if anyone has read it — maybe the picture of a dirty mop at the top of the story puts people off.

The "myth" that only your mother reads your blog is really a myth — I'm pretty sure my mother has never looked at it. But I know my father has. His favorite entry is from 26 May: "Thankful, Part I." I guess dads like to know their kids are happy. I haven't gotten to "Thankful, Part II" yet, but it'll come.

My saddest and most personal entry is "Memorial to Buddy, a good dog." This post got the most "reads" and comments. Buddy was a golden retriever whom I had the pleasure of calling my "best friend" for almost 10 years. He died suddenly (of a burst hemagiosarcoma I didn't even know he had [stoic to the last]) on 11 June 2009. Conversely, another of my favorite entries is about our other dog, Blue Aroo, whom we adopted from the MaxFund Shelter in Denver in 10 June 2009.

I tried doing the "What I linked to on Twitter this Week" thing I saw other blogs doing (particularly "Highly Allochthonous") but have found that that takes up a lot of time I don't have — and those who read my tweets (@Colo_kea) are far greater in number than who might actually look at my blog anyway.

My most recent post was for Blog Action Day 2010. I kinda took the lazy way out (or maybe not lazy exactly — I showed off what I do best with water, and that's as a photographer, not as a scientist). The post is called "Water shots." I announced once on Twitter a while back that water was my favorite thing in the whole world, and I meant it. Of course, the best of the best is a golden retriever and water at the same time.

So now — this is a nice summary of the blog so far. What's next? Do I dive into the more personal, or do I stay above that fine line? My professional expertise is as a journalist, editor, social media manager, former community college instructor, and former 9-year sheriff's department employee. I'm no scientist; I just work for a science organization and read a lot of science blogs. My skill set includes amateur Web design (see my current Web site, which will transition soon to become keagiles.com to be consistent with my chosen married name; see also the Web site I built for my brother's bookstore, Applegarth Books) — no bells and whistles on these, but I do like the images and design elements. That leads to my other amateur calling — that of a digital photographer. I've sold a couple of photos but haven't put much effort into getting them "out there." Another artifact of the "not enough time" syndrome.

I think that's enough of summarizing myself. You can always get more from LinkedIn for Twitter or even from my profile on this blog. That's not what this post is about. This post is asking you, the reader, what you'd like to see here. It's also helping me to get my thoughts together regarding what I want to write here and what I'm bringing to the table at ScienceOnline 2011. Comments? Appreciated.

Water Shots

2010-10-15T06:00:00.027-06:00

I've decided to take part in Blog Action Day 2010 because it's about water. Just so happens, water is my favorite thing. It's everywhere. You can't do much without it. In fact, you can't do anything without it. It's our life's blood, more a part of us than the air we breathe.

I'm no hydrologist, but I do love a good picture of water. Here are a few water shots as tribute to what is good and beautiful and vital to us all. (Note: Pictures copyright keasmus; if you want to use one, just let me know.)

You can see the veins of this leaf magnified in the water drops.

Water cushioned in a geranium leaf.

A cup of raspberry.

Water drops caught in a spider web.


Water frozen on a dandelion.

Water reflections in glacial silt, Skagway River, Alaska, USA.

The cool blue water of Glacier Bay, Alaska, USA.

Glacier Bay, Alaska, USA.

Snake River, Idaho, USA.

South Boulder Creek with golden retriever.

Of Note • Colo_kea on Twitter 2–8 Oct. 2010

2010-10-10T15:50:00.001-06:00

Following the example of some of my fellow tweeps & bloggers (including Chris Rowan, Anne Jefferson, and Brian Romans), I've decided to start logging here the sites and articles of interest that I link to on Twitter from my nom de plume (hee hee – get it?) Colo_kea.

New Scientist: Honeybee disappearance mystery may be solved
http://www.newscientist.com/blogs/shortsharpscience/2010/10/jessica-hamzelou-reporter-norm.html

Hilarious pictures: Who's really your best friend?
http://www.hilarious-pictures.com/files/picture/watermarked/50097473.jpg

Physorg_com: Adobe shares surge on Microsoft acquisition report
http://www.physorg.com/news205690867.html

Wired Science: Exclusive: First Autistic Presidential Appointee Speaks Out (via Lynne Soraya)
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2010/10/exclusive-ari-neeman-qa/all/1

ESRI: New podcast explains how GIS can be used to assist green building
http://www.esri.com/news/podcasts/podcasts.html#user_pyke (opens podcast)

Boulder Daily Camera: Survey: Boulder fourth-most educated in nation
http://www.dailycamera.com/news/ci_16272555

Wall Street Journal: In Boulder, Colo., Bring Your Dog (via
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703859204575526401618847176.html?KEYWORDS=boulder+co#

Associated Press/Google: George Clooney in Southern Sudan over war worries (via Ann Curry)
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jKqAvXCf1iergGVoN2HN65Ba5EdgD9IM9D000?docId=D9IM9D000

Ann Curry from UN Security Council Hearing in south Sudan
http://ping.fm/p/kGUcv

The Guardian: The Lay Scientist: Why I spoofed science journalism, and how to fix it
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/the-lay-scientist/2010/sep/28/science-journalism-spoof

Schneier on Security: Monitoring Employees' Online Behavior
http://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2010/10/monitoring_empl.html

Tucson Citizen.com: Wry Heat blog: Saguaro National Park and Climate Change
http://tucsoncitizen.com/wryheat/2010/10/04/saguaro-national-park-and-climate-change/

BBC News: Why companies watch your every Facebook, YouTube, Twitter move (via Chris Rowan)
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-11450923

Guardian.co.uk: Malaria threatens 2 million in Pakistan as floodwaters turn stagnant (via Anne Jefferson)
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/oct/03/pakistan-malaria-floods

Cleaning Up

2010-08-08T12:58:00.000-06:00

Have you read the book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in America by Barbara Ehrenreich? If not, I highly recommend you do so. I think about that book every time I go out to eat, every time I stay in a hotel, and whenever I clean my house, and so will you when you're done.

Such a time came yesterday, when I made a more thorough attack on the upstairs bathroom than usual. The gloves were ON, and I was scrubbing every corner, even the ceiling.

There's a lot more to cleaning than making things look clean. I know — I used to be a maid in a hotel. All that mattered was how quickly we got in and out of the room. Our cleaning rags were the guests' used towels, and we almost never got into the corners with those towels or the vacuum. This part of Nickel and Dimed is right on; maids have to hurry because their supervisor has to meet a strict budget and the best way to keep the budget in line is to cut housekeeping hours.

When I was in college, for both undergrad (after that summer as hotel maid) and grad, I made my way by cleaning for professors at the university. It was a lot better than hotel work, because I could spend the time I needed to get things right. I liked putting in that extra effort — I mean, even if they're never going to lie on the floor of their bathroom and look up at the bottom of their pedestal sink, I have, and I've cleaned the dirt and muck that accumulates there until the porcelain sparkles again. And I've climbed a ladder to dust away cobwebs and shake down lost socks from vaulted ceilings and cross beams.

I liked being a housekeeper — as long as no one was home. Trying to clean with the professor or the family at home made me nervous. I didn't want to have to talk to anybody, and I certainly didn't want anyone to be in the same room where I was working.

I was housekeeper for a family of five (a law professor father and his four kids) for a couple of years. The father required that I wax the kitchen floor (Wax! Who does that anymore?) at least once a month. That involves stripping off the old wax, then cleaning, getting into grooves and shaving off stuck foodstuffs with a razor blade, and then painstakingly coating the floor in even mop rows of wax, trying not to overlap at the edges like you would if you were mowing the lawn. In the middle of that, without asking or warning, one or two of the boys would almost without fail come tramping in on the floor to cook ramen! They were hungry teenagers — but the question became — would I allow them to do this and mess up my floor (including probably getting noodles stuck in the wax) or did I risk making their dad angry by telling them to get out? They had no understanding of what I was trying to do. They had no respect for me — I couldn't believe it when the youngest (9) brought a friend home and in passing introduced me as "our help." I continue to wonder what became of those kids, brought up in such a way, having someone paid to come in and clean their rooms, their bathrooms, do their laundry, and all the rest, while they just went about their merry ways not even understanding the luxury of the situation or the damage it was doing to them.

I grew up having to do chores, and I think that's the right thing for all kids. Discipline, work, creativity, and plenty of play outside. Kids need consistent, patient discipline, and part of that is giving kids jobs to do, to be proud of, and to earn rewards for (10 cents a chore when I was young). Housework in and of itself is not as tedious and dull as some might think. It's a creative process; moving from dull to sparkling, from disorder to order, from grimy to beautiful.

I gave up maid work after earning my B.A. in psychology and went to work in a group home. The "residents," kids ages 12 to 17, were assigned to the home due to various crises in their families, or lack of families. One 12-year-old girl had been taken from her mother's house because her mother-slash-pimp had been selling her as a prostitute. 12 years old! My job, if I could, was to get her to at least smile and laugh a bit.

All the kids in the home had to do a certain amount of cleaning. But the the place had some senseless, archaic rules, one of which was that the kids weren't allowed to listen to music or play until all chores were completed. Well, at least on my shift, I turned that rule on its head. Who wants to clean without music? You do a half-assed job to get it done as quick as you can. But what if you have music? We did dance-sweeping and dance-mopping — the more you mop, the more you get to blast the music. On my Saturdays, the house was rocking AND sparkling. And people were smiling, even the 12 year old.

It's funny how I don't remember their names, but I remember each of their circumstances. I worked the night-shift there once in a while, and had to call the cops several times because a couple of the girls' pimps were outside their windows threatening them with violence and enticing them with drugs and money to come out and get back on the streets. Luckily, all windows and doors were chained shut. Not good for the fire code, but good for these girls. Some of the girls would have left quite willingly.

On night shift, another part of my job was to prep dinner for the next day. My specialty, if you can call it that, was quiche. You can make lots of servings out of a few government-issued blocks of cheese, eggs, flour, and lard. Add in some onion, spinach, maybe bacon or ham if you're lucky to have it, and you even have a pretty good meal. Thing is, I never got to see the kids eat the quiche, so now I think about it, I don't know if they even liked it! What if every dinner they knew I had cooked they would groan and shove the food to the side of the plate? I'll never know now.

I just hope I made a positive impact on some of their lives, at least in some small way.

How did I get here from Nickel and Dimed? Mostly this was just a free flow of ideas. It does follow a theme, in a way — I got paid more to clean those professors' houses than I did as a counselor in that group home. I joke that I once had a job where I got paid to play pool (with the kids, in the afternoons), but I didn't get paid much. And now those kids, many of them, are probably out there being nickel-and-dimed into a lack-luster existence when they deserve more.

I don't have a magic answer or moral to this story. I just wanted to tell it, and hope someone listens. For that 12-yr-old girl, and the thousands or millions out there like her. Maybe she's even your hotel maid — so next time you're away on business or vacation, try to remember to leave a good tip for the person who cleaned your room. You'll be helping her out, and you just might make her smile.

Memorial to Buddy, a Good Dog

2010-07-28T21:57:00.005-06:00

Buddy was a Good Dog — capital G, capital D. He wasn't the most clever or most talented, nor the "worst dog ever" (aka Marley). Certainly nothing to write a book about. But, he was my Buddy. We did stuff together.

Buddy's first swim was at the dog park at nine weeks old; his first "real walk" was at Bobolink Trail (he was so little, I had to carry him part of the way). He liked to play with his giant purple "Jolly Ball," and he enjoyed a good soak in the local canal. And, of course, retriever rolls.

Buddy grew up visiting my grandmother in the nursing home (that's another, important story) and graduated to working for the Boulder Community Hospital Canine Corps for a couple of years (he even earned a diploma). This story, Buddy's Hospital Hints, appeared in the canine corps newsletter.

We liked walking best, hanging out second best. Buddy's theme song was "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers — imagine those droopy golden retriever eyes and Buddy just waiting for me to come home from work, and you get the idea... "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone; I'm all alone when she's away..."

As a golden retriever, Buddy was very much the extrovert. He knew everyone in the neighborhood, and took plenty of time trying to convince everybody he met that he loved them more than anything else in the whole world. Imagine the dog in the movie "Up," with the classic line, "I have just met you and I love you." That was Buddy.

I promised Buddy once that we'd never live anywhere without snow. Have you ever seen a dog thoroughly enjoying snow? Rolling in it, running in it, shoveling his nose through it... it's an experience not to miss. If you don't have a dog, see if you can borrow your neighbor's golden retriever next winter.

Buddy died on 11 June 2010, one month before his 10th birthday, two weeks before Bear and I got married. True to his stoic golden retriever nature, he never told me he was sick, until he was so sick, he couldn't hide it anymore. He caught pneumonia, and two days later, I found out he had a burst hemagiosarcoma (tumor on his liver). The emergency vet told me Buddy would bleed out within the hour, but we did a body compress bandage, and he was happy and tail-waggy again, for about five hours (so Bear could get home to say good-bye), and then, as he slowly grew weary, we had him "put to sleep."

Buddy was a good dog. I'll miss him for the rest of my life. He knew my every move; each movement of my fingers, my eyes, my shoulders, meant something to him. Our walks together were like a dance; we were in rhythm with each other.

OK, except for when there was some really good sniff, or a cat or squirrel to chase, or another human to worship and sing to (yes, he "hummed" and sang a bit as he got older)...

But always, Buddy was my friend. In my heart, he will 'ever enjoy cool, bubbling waters, long, snowy days, plenty of humans and happy dogs to play with, and sunshine, lots of sunshine, now he's gone away.

Thankful, Part I

2010-05-26T21:35:00.003-06:00

I've been holding off on blogging, waiting until I have time to write the promised chocolate post (comparing various bars of dark chocolate).

I really will get to that, but for now, I have something more urgent...

Gratitude.

I'm thankful that this evening I got to swim outside and gaze up at the blue sky and watch the clouds form and fade. After the swim, I sat in the sauna and thanked God (the God of Jesus, the God of Mohamed, the God or good or good spirit that inspired Buddha ... whatever you want to call it) for all the good things in my life right now. Thanks that I can just sit here in this space and think "thanks." Thanks for Bear and Buddy and Blue Aroo. Thanks for the upcoming wedding and the dress and the rings... Thanks for the freedom and the means to be able to plan a fantastic honeymoon.

Beyond all that is an even deeper gratitude, one that can't be explained in a single blog post. It's a gratitude that comes from both struggle and privilege, from having looked into the face of evil more than once and flourished in spite of it, from simply being able to be thankful for everyday beauty, for what we call the "little things" (which add up to something bigger than all of us understand, I think).

I know I'm not expressing this as well as I'd like right now, but it's a start. And, as I sat in the sauna tonight with nothing to do but be grateful, I knew this post couldn't wait until I could make it perfect (whatever that means).

Hey - and thanks for reading this!

Sugar: I've cut it out.

2010-04-28T12:32:00.002-06:00

People have asked me how I've done it & what they can do to reduce sugar in their diets as well. It's really not that hard.

The first thing to do is to read labels. Did you know that a 6-oz. carton of Yoplait piña colada yogurt (Bear's favorite) has 21 grams of sugar? Naturally, six ounces of yogurt (in this case, Cascade Fresh fat-free plain yogurt) will contain about 10 grams of sugar. This is due to the presence of the milk sugar, lactose (see http://lowcarbdiets.about.com/od/whattoeat/a/yogurtcarbs.htm, and esp. info on how the live cultures break down the lactose). The additional sugars in the Yoplait yogurt (and other regular brands) are from two sources: the fruit and, yes, added sugar.

What about that fruit? Fruit is a natural source of sugar, so I've had to watch the types of fruit I eat as well, and what I combine them with. An apple a day is fine, as long as I pair it with some cheese or a few almonds. A banana is better with some peanut butter. According to a dietician I saw when I began this change (in reaction to learning that I am hypoglycemic), the best fruits are those with lots of seeds: raspberries, strawberries, and so forth.

Plain yogurt is so, well, plain... How can you stand to eat it? First, once you cut the sugar in your diet, things that seemed too bitter before aren't and, on the other hand, things that seemed fine before taste way too sweet. But that doesn't mean I like plain yogurt. I dress it up. Take six ounces of plain yogurt, add half a cup or more of those nice seeded berries, toss in some chopped walnuts, and, for added sweetness and texture, some UNSWEETENED coconut. Forget ice cream; this stuff is good!

How could you possibly give up chocolate? Who says I gave up chocolate? Here's another reason to read your labels. Did you know that a 43-gram Hershey's bar (regular size bar; see http://www.hersheys.com/products/details/hersheysbar.asp) contains 24 grams of sugar? Ouch! While I really, really love milk chocolate, it's something I've had to steer away from. Instead, I've gone for dark chocolate. But not 50% dark, or even 70% dark — we're talking 85% to 90% dark. A 41-gram bar of Hershey's Special Dark still contains 21 grams of sugar (note, the same amount as a serving of Yoplait). The highest percent dark chocolate bar I have been able to find is by Lindt. A 3.5 oz bar (about 99 grams) of their "Super Dark" chocolate has nine grams of sugar. Wow! I can eat half of one of these bars and still ingest less sugar than is in my plain yogurt! But there's a catch: A Lindt "Super Dark" bar has a lot of fat in it — 360 of the bar's 550 calories are from fat. So, don't go all crazy on that chocolate! (I'm currently "researching" dark chocolates [85%–90%] for a future post comparing taste, sugars, fats, and calories in six different bars, so watch for that!).

Along with cutting out sugar, it's a good idea to increase your protein and fiber intake. In the morning, I have eggs scrambled with onion, broccoli, and brown rice. Or, if I'm feeling self-indulgent, I'll have peanut butter on a brown rice cake or some gluten-free "Glutino" fiber bread. Again, read your labels! Natural, organic peanut butter is just that — peanuts, with no added sugar. The brands you usually find in the grocery store have had corn syrup, sugar, and even molasses added, along with unnatural oils. Once you get used to it, having to stir and refrigerate your peanut butter isn't all that inconvenient.

Oooh, and one more thing: My new favorite: Sugar-free pbjs! No, I don't use jam; I use frozen raspberries. I warm the raspberries in the microwave (defrost for 1 min., then cook for 30 sec., stir, cook for 15 sec.), spread them on my gluten-free toast, and mush that together with my natural peanut butter on another piece of gluten-free toast. Yum! Note: Even though this is really tasty, it's really not a good idea to have this pbj for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner. LOL.

I'm not a dietician, a nutritionist, or a medical professional — just an editor. But I think eating is a good idea, and eating so you are WELL is even better.

In the word's of Julia Child, "Bon appétit!" But I doubt she would approve of this blog, unless I added butter.

Who is Blue Aroo?

2010-04-24T17:05:00.007-06:00

10 June 2009, Denver, Colorado, USA: Mr. Speedy here, aka Blue Aroo, finished his last morning in supermax... I mean at MaxFund Shelter, where he'd been waiting patiently since late March for someone to come adopt him — again...

Originally adopted from MaxFund when he was a year old, Blue Aroo was returned to the shelter 10 years later because his owner could no longer care for him. I've come up with two explanations in my mind to justify that — either she lost a job and could no longer house him, or he was just too afraid of thunder and fireworks and she couldn't handle the stress anymore.

That was the big warning on his shelter chart — fear of flashing light, thunder, and fireworks. But as soon as we got him home, we built him a little cave in our house (a crate insulated with blankets), and he goes there to feel safe, or just to hang out.

So, Blue was 11 years old when we adopted him. But you can't tell — he's full to brimming over with life! My nickname for him is "Sparky." He goes for runs with Bear, bounces around the house, and runs circles around the other dogs at the dog park. He's so fast, I think he even runs circles around himself! He and our golden retriever, Buddy, get along "famously."

People often respond in wonder that we would have adopted an "older" dog. So close after the death of Bear's longtime canine companion, Sequoia (a playful chow-chow mix who died 26 May 2009 at the age of 16), why would we want to invite more heartbreak?

So far, heartbreak hasn't been a word in our vocabulary when it comes to Blue. Except perhaps for the heartbreak I felt for his previous owner, having to give up such a sweet dog.

And he is sweet! Never have I met such a happy, friendly, sparkly dog. As a golden retriever, Buddy has a head start on almost any dog when it comes to happiness and friendliness, but Blue, a husky–cattle dog mix, even outshines him.

When it comes to his age — well, the last time we had him in to see the vet, she remarked as she looked into his goofy blue eyes that if she didn't know better, she'd place his age at around seven.

Buddy is almost 10 now (I've had him since, well, before he was born), and Blue is over 12. But they're both healthy enough to bounce, run, and play with us every day. If it ever comes time to adopt another dog, I'll have my eyes trained on the older guys first. And Blue Aroo says, "Aroooooo!"

Falling for Spring

2010-04-14T21:16:00.000-06:00

What's your favorite season? Up until this year, I would have answered, clearly and with determination, "Fall."

Clearly, because as long as I can remember, I have felt this way. With determination, because I'm just a little bit contrary — most people love spring (is that really true? stats anyone?), so why not be different?

It occurred to me just today that something fundamental has changed in the way I see the natural world. Each hint of new growth pleases me deeply. I have an almost maternal attachment to the budding wild plum blossoms, the muskrat in Skunk Creek, the first little insects (even the ants) emerging from winter hibernation, and our little mallard pair taking up housekeeping in Bear Creek to the east.

I love spring. It's exciting. Green sprouts everywhere! Hints of color tip tree branches and bushes. Bees, gnats, and other insects (maybe soon some ladybugs!) travel the three-dimensional space between ground and sky. The black vultures return, and hawks dance in pairs over the greening prairie grasses.

I recently came across the Dragonfly Archive, a blog dedicated to capturing Twitter haiku, tanka, senryu, and micropoetry. On its "About" page, the author has posted this: FACT: A dragonfly larvae lives up to three years, but in the winged-state they live only a few weeks. Anytime you see a dragonfly in their winged-state, know that they are close to the end of their lifespan.

Perhaps that's what I mean by "dragonfly wars" — the growth and beauty — the time to stretch one's wings, really — in the space between the bulk of one's life and the gradual rise and drift toward its termination. That's where I am now.

My 47th birthday last August was a milestone, because it was the first birthday on which I remember looking forward to life, to the possibilities, and feeling happy, content, and grounded in being ALIVE.

OK, I know. Forty-seven does not equal "close to the end of their lifespan." But metaphorically, perhaps in "dragonfly years," it is — at least, it's far beyond the larval stage (I shall not extend the metaphor to try to incorporate "nymph," the term applied to dragonfly larvae, into the mix, I promise).

I see beauty in every detail, every fragile detail, like the wings of the dragonfly.

And I'm happy to say, I've fallen for spring.

A blog NOT

2010-04-13T09:38:00.001-06:00

Last night I published a blog post, complete with photo, from the supposed point of view of my great aunt, Miss Beulah Johnson, discussing the "hat ritual" as outlined in Frances Benton's 1956 book, Etiquette: The complete modern guide for day-to-day living the correct way. Then I decided it was too kitschy and forced. So, I deleted it. The idea is no. 4 on my list of blog topics as noted on my 2 April post. But after giving it a "test drive," I decided it's just not going to work. That's not to say I wouldn't want to share some of Benton's advice — I find the book fascinating! From hat rituals, to glove guidelines, to matters of form regarding engagement and marriage — I wish I could share it all with you. Perhaps, from time to time, I'll pull out some choice information from the book, but I'll do it in my own voice. Not that I wouldn't appreciate what Great-Aunt Beulah would say — she was all about style: the right hats, gloves, coats — even her car. So very different from my grandmother's side of the family. Maybe some pictures will come up from time to time as well.

This is what I call the "blog shakedown" period — like the trial run of a ship before setting out on a long voyage. Thanks for hanging on for the ride!

"Branding Bhutan" — or the story of a "Trek through Time"

2010-04-04T18:15:00.003-06:00

The 19 February issue of Science includes an article on Bhutan titled, "Improbable Partners Aim to Bring Biotechnology to Himalayan Kingdom" (v. 247, p. 940-941). Reading it over lunch the other day, I thought, "Hmmm... well, that's interesting." Then I read a subheading on page 941, "Branding Bhutan." "Wow," I thought, "we have come a long way since 1974." Is this good or bad? Or neither? Is it just the natural course of things in a country both protective of its borders and open to change?

Just a little over 35 years ago, in October 1974, National Geographic featured on its cover a picture of a new leader coming to power in Bhutan. The cover caption read, "With his great-great-grandfather's five-colored scarf on his shoulders, 18-year-old Jigme Singye Wangchuck formally becomes monarch in the tiny kingdom of Bhutan. John Scofield's picture story highlights the color and enduring traditions of the sequestered nation."

A dusty copy of this issue remains on the bookshelf in the living room of my grandmother's house, though she passed on in 2003, and my aunt lives there now. An avid Nat Geo reader, my grandmother, Lillie Asmus, felt something in her heart shift as she read the article and took in Scofield's pictures. She had to go there, no matter what it took.

But Bhutan was closed to tourism — until young Wangchuck realized the potential benefits of well-regulated tourism. In 1975, upon permission from the king, a small party brought together by an up-and-coming adventure tourism company, then called Mountain Travel and now known as Mountain Travel Sobek, was allowed to trek this 38,394 km²country.

My grandma was a member of that first group of American tourists. At 65, she was the oldest, and probably the most determined. Still recovering from a stroke she'd suffered six years earlier, she walked with a limp, and she'd lost her ability to take hand-written notes. Fortuitously for me, she carried with her the whole time a tape recorder, and each night recorded notes and impressions about the trek. She played those tapes for me back in 1992, and we spent several hours going over the events that touched her the most. On 28 June 1992, the Boulder Daily Camera published our account of her adventure in an article titled, "Trek through Time" (p. 1C, 3C).

The trip had multiple highlights, but I think the most significant one was the presence of Tenzing Norgay as sirdar (guide). Tenzing, you may recall, was the Nepalese sherpa who, with Sir Edumund Hilary of England, became the first man to reach the top of Mount Everest in 1953. Quoting from my 1992 article, "In countries like Nepal and Bhutan, and even India, Tenzing (who guessed his age in 1975 to be about 61 by our calendar) was revered almost as a legend."

My grandmother said that she liked Tenzing "instantly" and still blushed years later when she told me that after she presented the sirdar with a pair of mittens (knit by my aunt), "He kissed me on my cheek and gave me a big hug."

The group began the official trek in Paro, northern Bhutan. The tiny guest houses quickly set up for tourists could not hold the entire group, so grandma volunteered to take a tent. This was mid-January, but, grandma recalled, it felt to her to be the right thing to do because "Tenzing did it too."

The group's trek continued to Tiger's Nest (Taktsang), the ancient Buddhist monastery perched on the edge of a narrow, grassy cliff. It's a rather treacherous trail up to Tiger's Nest, and not for the faint-of-heart. For safety, the group was required to take to horseback (which frightened my grandmother more than walking), but when the horses could go no further, they made the rest of the approach on foot, down so many steps my grandmother could not keep count, and finally up again, into the temple.

After several days in Bhutan, the group returned to India, trekking through Nepal and Sikkim (now a part of India).

I'll save my grandmother's time in Sikkim for another post, but I will tell you she met the last king of that country, and we still have the ceremonial prayer scarf she exchanged with him before tea. And I'll also save the next part of the story — the 80-mile trek along the Nepal-India border and the visit to Tenzing's home — for another time. Then there's grandma's trek in the Scottish Hebrides. Oh, and I must tell at some point the story of her honeymoon, bicycling through Europe in 1935.

But back to Bhutan, and the Science article.

Thimpu businessman Wangdi Jamyang has teamed up with a British mycologist (Nigel Hywel-Jones) to "Brand Bhutan." That is, according to the Science article by Richard Stone, they're "crafting a business model for biotech in the kingdom." You see, among its many natural riches, Bhutan is the home of a fungus (Cordyceps sinensis or "yartsa guenbub" in Bhutanese) "that fetches outrageous prices as a Chinese medicine." Wangdi wants to trump the poachers coming in across the border, ensure that the fungus is collected without violating the country's "Buddhist reverence for the environment" (which is one reason behind keeping the country closed to tourists for so long), and, of course, keep the profits in-country.

According to the article, the decision by Bhutan's leadership to allow collection of the fungus each June has "pulled many rural Bhutanese out of poverty," with earnings in that one month surpassing "a year's income from yak herding."

It's a good idea. As biotech adviser Hywel-Jones notes, "The best ideas come when you're in a forest." Long before Bhutan allowed western tourists into the country, it was known as "Lho Men Jong, or 'Southern Land of Medicinal Herbs.'" Bhutan's relatively pristine countryside is flush with fungi. Those fungi, managed in Bhutan's farsighted manner, could provide opportunities for advances in medicine as well as increased financial "happiness" for the country's citizens.

Grandma sold her trekking boots back in 1990. If I had those boots here now, I'd look them over quizzically, wondering if they'd ever trod upon the insect fungus that now might be leading Bhutan into a future delicately balanced between protecting its soils and reaping its environmental rewards.

If grandma were here, she'd clap her hands together, smile, bow, and send her best wishes across the seas to the country that so touched her life.

Titles, chromium & future blogs

2010-04-02T10:54:00.004-06:00

I'm a fidgeter and a fusser, which made me terrible at painting because I kept piling color over color hoping to get it just right but instead creating a muddy, dirty canvas. I'm already fidgeting and fussing with this blog - note the title change to my 27 March post, among other things. I hope "once the dust settles," as they say, I'll have a better handle on how to write a more descriptive and compelling title and a clearer understand of how I want to structure each post.

I took one of those silly quizzes on facebook to find out which element in the periodic table I am most like. Came out as chromium, because, as the quiz said, I am "easily distracted by shiny objects." At first, I was rather irked by this conclusion, but when I thought about it, I realized the quiz was right. I am easily distracted. That's different than having trouble concentrating. I just concentrate on many things at once. I have a three-sided desk at work, and I work all three sides at the same time — proofreading on one side, reading and referencing on the other, and copyediting/computing in the middle. Other people I know who took the quiz came out as either gold or helium. Sounds nice, but in sour grapes fashion, I say, well at least I'm not a softy or a lightweight!

So, you may notice in my blog a little bit of jumping around from one subject to another – not some nice linear theme. I'm kinda hoping for the "Annie Dillard of blogging" award (if you've ever read her essays, you know what I mean).

I already have lots of ideas for future posts. The ideas are coming faster than the posts themselves, because I'm finding I have less time than I thought to put together "real posts of significance" each time I want to say something. I do have every intention to make good on the following themes:
1. The Dragonfly Wars theme as reflected in my Day 1 post (another riveting title);
2. Posts about what I'm reading and what associations I make from that reading to my "real" life;
3. Coming next (I hope): "Branding Bhutan and what that has to do with Grandma's Trekking Boots";
4. A side series: "Notes from Your Receptionist" — you'll be introduced to Miss Beulah Johnson, who will share excerpts from a 1956 guide by Frances Benton intriguingly titled Etiquette: The complete modern guide for day-to-day living the correct way.

It's going to be fun – at least for me. I hope it is for you as well.

What I read and what I thought about it [[ed. note: title changed from "Read It," which I think was a lousy choice]]

2010-03-27T23:08:00.008-06:00

Over lunch today, I had the pleasure of reading the 13 March 2010 issue of NewScientist [[Note: mag. title edited 29 Mar.]]. Two articles, both, ironically, about eating, merited underlining and annotation: Andy Coghlan's "Food, not flab, is the real killer" (p. 8-9) and Ewan Callaway's "Grrr… what's 'Step away from the bone' in dog?" (p. 14).

"Food, not flab, is the real killer," highlights new research¹ findings that being overweight or even obese might not be as big a health risk as most people think. In fact, having some extra fat on you might be to your benefit. Fat cells, it seems, were designed to protect us.

According to the study, fat cells are kind of like the air bags of the immune system – absorbing the impact of excess fat and sugar (and other food-borne toxins associated with overeating or a junk-food diet) that would otherwise flow unimpeded about our circulatory system. It's this free flotsam and jetsam that signals danger, danger! to the body. Once this stuff hits the organs, "metabolic syndrome" (it is believed) follows. The organs begin to fail, bringing on diseases we regularly blame on obesity: diabetes, high cholesterol, heart disease, and the like.

If fat absorbs these toxins, how come obese people tend to end up with metabolic syndrome more often than "thin" people? First, let's fine-tune this assumption. Coghlan cites statistics from a 2008 study² in Archives of Internal Medicine that found 33% of obese people and 50% of those considered overweight to have "healthy metabolic profiles," while 25% of so-called "lean" people showed "signs of metabolic syndrome."

The idea is that these "lean" folks just don't have enough fat cells to cushion them from the assault of bad food. On the other end of the spectrum, according to Coghlan's article, fat cells can only do so much. Pushed to the extreme, they collapse under the pressure. Toxins nicely packed away in these cells by our trusty immune system overflow and overwhelm.

Why did this article spark my interest? Well, first, it speaks to something I've been thinking about for some time. I've learned that I'm pretty sensitive to what I call "normal-but-toxic" food ingredients; namely, gluten and sugar. I gave up gluten (more or less – I confess a weakness for pancakes) a couple of years ago and lost a bunch of weight plus some unpleasant digestive problems.

In January 2009, after noticing that every time I had a Coke or a Hershey's bar I got really crabby with my boyfriend (more so than usual), confused, and dim-witted (more so than usual), I had my glucose tolerance checked. One hour after drinking a bottle of horribly sweet yellow water, my blood sugar level went down. It's supposed to go up. Over the next two hours, my blood sugar dropped 11 more points, and I lost all my cookies (so to speak). Doc said, "Hypoglycemia."

My point is – Back in 1996, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, what I believe to be the result of an overactive immune system (not, like all those TV ads are saying, "overactive nerves"). If the immune system reacts to food toxins as in the studies noted above, perhaps, for me, those toxins include sugar and gluten. Instead of developing "metabolic syndrome," however, my body attacked itself on another level. Like I said, my health improved after I cut out gluten. And that's nothing compared to what happened once I reduced my sugar load: The fibromyalgia symptoms abated. I'm running 5K races, experiencing the joy of working out for the first time in years, and getting ready to do a half-marathon in June.

I'm not a scientist, just an editor. I hope that I'm making sense here. What makes sense to me is that food triggers an immune response. I'm looking forward to seeing more articles along these lines.

Oh, and the other article?

Researchers³ tried to separate a dog from its bone by playing recordings of three types of growls elicited from 20 unsuspecting dogs to 36 other unsuspecting dogs. Turns out, "dogs' growls seem to have distinct meanings," and, according to Alexandra Horowitz (quoted in Callaway's print piece, though it's not clear how she's related to the study), growling is actually "used intentionally." Hello? Just in case you're not sure about this, you can listen to the growls at www.newscientist.com/article/dn18617.

¹Unger, R., and Scherer, P., 2010, Gluttony, sloth and the metabolic syndrome: a roadmap to lipotoxicity: Trends in Endocrinology and Metabolism, doi: 10.1016/j.tem.2010.01.009.

²Wildman, R.P., Muntner, P., Reynolds, K., McGinn, A.P., Rajpathak, S., Wylie-Rosett, J., and Sowers, M.R., 2008, The Obese without Cardiometabolic Risk Factor Clustering and the Normal Weight with Cardiometabolic Risk Factor Clustering – Prevalence and Correlates of 2 Phenotypes among the US Population (NHANES 1999-2004): Archives of Internal Medicine, v. 168, p. 1617-1624, http://archinte.ama-assn.org/cgi/content/abstract/168/15/1617.

³Faragó, T., Pongrácz, P., Range, F., Virányi, Z., and Miklósi, Á, 2010, 'The bone is mine': affective and referential aspects of dog growls: Animal Behavior, v. 79, p. 917-925, doi: 10.1016/j.anbehav.2010.01.005.

Another Cool Thing

2010-03-26T14:13:00.003-06:00

A short film I first saw via the bioephemera blog:
http://scienceblogs.com/bioephemera/2010/03/fibonacci_ftw.php.

Fascinating!

A Cool Thing

2010-03-26T12:38:00.010-06:00

Travel IQ: How well do you know your world?
I've only managed to get up to level 7 on this thing: http://www.zefrank.com/memory/travel_iq/ ... tests your knowledge of world geography.

Think fast - click faster!

Day 1

2010-03-26T11:01:00.001-06:00

I always think it's funny when people name their posts "Day 1," because it's rather non-descriptive. But this one works for me because it is Day 1 of the new blog. I started this on my Web site, www.keasmus.com, but decided to move it to a platform that provides for comments (be gentle), among other things.

My blog's title, "Dragonfly Wars," originated as a possible book title, and it still is a possible book title. But it also relates to the conflicts inside a person, between fear and beauty, ignorance and acceptance. I've pasted below my first notes on this from my Web site so you can get an idea of what I mean.

I used to be afraid of dragonflies. I thought they were like bees. Come to find out, they're gentle, beneficial beings. Then, come to find out, so are bees! They only sting if you ask them to. Well, that sounds a little wrong, like blame the victim, but I'll leave it for now.

I also used to be afraid of spiders. Oooh, so scared I couldn't sleep in the same room with one. Now, I think they are awesome. So many varieties! My favorite spider, I think, has to be the orb weaver, especially the orange spiny one I had living out on my back patio for a year or so. Amazing. I called her "good Charlotte" — not after the spider in Charlotte's Web, but after the band. My current favorite picture on the Web is an extreme closeup of a wolf spider carrying hundreds of babies on her back. For lack of energy to find a better phrase, I'll just say it's way awesome.

I also used to be afraid of people. Come to find out, I'm an extrovert. Love public speaking. Haven't found anyone I can't talk to about something. I like that. And, I mean, maaann, I have met some PEOPLE. All kinds.

I will follow on from there as I develop this blog. Thanks for reading!