CHARLIE AND MURRAY

Annette Shurtliff and I became friends in a seventh grade art class, over the creation of a mural of animals wandering across the African veldt.

And we remained friends through junior high, high school, horses, going to different colleges, becoming members of the same church, living together, living apart, same college, marriage (different guys - sorry to break the pattern here), different states/continents, babies around the same time (she had one extra), husbands in radically different careers (teaching special-education kids vs. thinking like a terrorist... wait a minute, maybe they're more alike than I thought).

We became grayer, and heavier, a little slower.

But we both were madly in love with our dogs.

And unfortunate, both Annette and I very recently had to make the incredibly difficult decision to have our dogs put down rather than suffer.

Annette's daughter Mary Anne made a Facebook page for Charlie - I've written about Murray in here.

We'll see you guys in the next life for sure - if we reach that high.

HOW THE NIGHT MOVES

I love my horses so much that sometimes I do rather foolish things just to spoil them.

Last night, I got home after sunset - in face, quite a while after sunset - so it was dark - real, real dark.

For those of you who have never lived outside of a populated area, it is rather surprising at first when you get away from city lights, streetlamps, traffic and even houses indoor lights.

We even have 'light pollution' laws in our county, restricting streetlights, flood lights (well, except for the border - they can use pretty bright lights there) and even the type of lights that we can use - they must be shaded for limited exposure.

So again - it's dark.

But as I got out of the truck, both horses were emanating their deepest, darkest mind control thoughts straight at me -- "YOU ARE A VERY VERY BAD OWNER WHO HAS FORCED FORCED FORCED HER POOR STARVING UNDERFED HORSES STARE AT THE GREEN GREEN GREEN GRASS OUTSIDE THEIR FENCE ALL DAY LONG AND COMES HOME TOO LATE TO TAKE HER HORSES OUT TO GRAZE AND YOU ARE GONNA PAY PAY PAY."

Yes, I am a weak person, and am extremely susceptible to equine mind control.

So I took both animals, each weighing over 1,000 lbs. apiece, with four feet each (that's eight total for you mathmatically-challenged out there) which are EACH approxmiately five feet across and can easily crush each and every metatarsus bone in your tiny little weak human feet - I took these beasts out IN THE COMPLETE AND TOTAL DARKNESS to graze.

Only one thing saved me... well, sort of.

It turns out that my younger horse (who is responsible for the majority of the mind controlling beams) is a little bit "scawed of the dawk" (that's Elmer Fudd talk there - did you know there is a translation site that has redneck, Swedish chef, Cockney translations?).

So I got slammed by Najale's head (enough that my upper thigh looks just like this today) as he alternated between ripping and gulping grass into his mouth but then spooking at the sound he was creating by of every single blade being crushed between his huge teeth.

So the lesson learned from all of this is 1) wearing a tin-foil helmet does deters my horses' mind-alternating thought rays, and 2) although I am not frightened by coyotes, illegal immigrants and scary things that go bump in the night close to the Mexican border, I now realize that I need to be scared of my horse eating in the dark.

"I woke last night to the sound of thunder

How far off I sat and wondered

Started humming a song from 1962

Ain't it funny how the night moves

When you just don't seem to have as much to lose..."

And I'm including this last thing just because it made me laugh.

IS THERE AN UPSIDE TO ANGER?

Forget all that I blogged yesterday about heat and suffering and how we stalwart Arizonans deal with it.

Because I got hailed on today.

I have been aware that thunderstorms were moving in and out of our valley. We've had  fairly steady late afternoon rains the last couple of weeks - actually, we're already had over 15 inches this year as of this afternoon, and that's pretty good for this part of Arizona.

And this evening, as I went out to put the horses back together (see this blog if you don't understand the dynamics of our feeding ritual), I was fully prepared for some rain.

I mean, I actually had my hat on.

But I was in no way prepared for the large pieces of ice that begin to pelt me from the heavens above.

So I did what seemed obvious at the moment - I hid out with the horses in their shed for the next twenty minutes or so, with the ice pounding on the metal roof.

However, I did not count on two things:

1. The fact that hail makes enough noise that even my husband and son came from their respective rooms to witness the phenomena, and

2. They then noticed that I was not in the house.

Somehow this was a case for major panic - somehow the threat of, I don't know, kidnapping by exhausted Mexicans crossing our property was increased a hundred fold by it being in the middle of a hail storm.

So when my son finally found me (holding a knapsack over his head), safe and not too incredibly wet, he and I stood in the shed with the horses until the storm passed (he also learned that yes, horses can push you aside fairly easily in small places, don't try to fight back).

And then went back to the house, to be welcomed back with a warm hug for my safe return?

Not exactly.

My husband has one 'main' emotion - which is anger.

So instead of being scared... he gets angry.

When most people would feel nervous... he gets angry.

Anxious... anger.

Protective... anger.

Irritation... anger.

Problems sharing... anger.

Are we seeing a pattern here?


So guess who was furious when I came back inside?

THE SMELL OF COOKIES IN THE OVEN

I've felt so incredibly sorry for the people in the Midwest and East Coast that have been suffering from this most recent heat wave.

Temperatures have been in the "triple-digits" - which, by the way, is one of my favorite television weather-person expressions.

My mind immediately goes to somewhere around the 300's, so it gets my attention... which is exactly what they want, right?

And to me it is totally insane that people actually get PAID to say things like "the probability of precipitation is the likelihood of measurable precipitation for this forecasted time, and occurring at any point for which the forecast is valid."

Wow.

Okay, where were we? Oh, yeah, the heat wave.

There are heat warnings in Arizona, of course, but we expect those. It was 102 degrees F here yesterday - but hey, we're in Arizona, so....

But THIS AFTERNOON, a nice little thunderstorm blew in, poured a few buckets of rain over us, and cooled off the area nicely.

Right now it is 72.3 degrees - I may get my sweatshirt out.

And I have to provide some cookies for a funeral on Saturday - I am jumping on the chance to have the oven on and still remain inside the house!

BUDDHA VS JESUS

To say that I "frequent" Target stores is like saying that the character Kurt on Glee is "a touch" effeminate - that Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck are "perhaps" conservative in their politics - Lady Gaga is "a slightly" unique singer - and Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video is "a bit foot-tapping."

Today at Target I found these Buddha magnets in the dollar aisle. And I immediately thought...

 The Buddha would laugh about this.

And I think most all Buddhist would laugh too.

But if Target was selling similar magnets but of Jesus Christ...

Well, personally, I think that Jesus would laugh about it.

But I'm afraid that there are a whole lot of Christians out there would picket, boycott and trash-talk Target.

Hmm.  Just doesn't seem Christian, does it?

TWO SHOOTING STARS

We all have our list of 'woes.'

It may be a lost love, like the boy you kissed in kindergarten (or maybe worse, like the principal) - a physical problem, like hemorrhoids (I don't think you can get worse than that) - family dysfunctions (which simply means you are like every single other family in America).

But there are late nights that we may weep a little weep, feel more than a little sorry for ourselves.

I always try the "count my many blessings" routine, which usually helps (all I have to do is think of Dick Cheney or Mississippi and WHEW, I'm doing GREAT), but tonight I was for some odd reason mentally listing all my physical defects.

Well, maybe it wasn't that strange - I was standing outside, trying vainly to hear where the greyhound was home (I'm half deaf) while rubbing my deaf ear (for some reason the "crest of helix " area keeps falling asleep) and seeing the white flashes from my glaucoma especially well in the dark, feeling the arthritis especially in my shoulders from the monsoon season and worrying about my mind going from early Alzheimer's.

 

And then I saw two shooting stars - one right after the other.

Suddenly I wasn't feeling at all sorry for myself.

LEFT-HANDED VINES

Vines covering a house immediately bestow a sense of stateliness, accompanied by the obligatory murder/ suicide chilling tale, with beautiful antique blue willow plates displayed on the walls (have not idea at all what connection they have with the murders, but they seem to always be there).

Or perhaps it's just the blend of Mother Nature and human nesting, intertwined, bringing something earthy into the bricks and glass.

But it is always beautiful.

So when an actual vine began to grow up the side of our house, I was got overly excited.

I mean, I live in Arizona - you don't see houses covered with greenery unless the house is owned by grotesque water-abusers that will waste our previous resources throwing life-giving moisture away to promote purely decorative frivolous....

Sorry, my desert mind kicked in just then.

The vine I got excited about, however, is a true Arizona vine.

Skimpy.

And will be completely dried up and crumpled into dust in the next week when our little monsoon is over and our beautiful sun reigns supreme again.

Sigh.

Now the left-handed part.

I have complained for years about being whatever the opposite of ambidextrous is - I have trouble using EITHER hand, but ESPECIALLY my left-hand. I am so predominately right-handed that the only thing that comes to mind where I use my left-hand as well as my right is in typing.

In addition, the right-side of my brain is the damaged one - and since that (in theory, at least) is the side that controls your left side, it makes sense.

So this week I decided to do something about it.

I'm writing left-handed.

Yes, it looks like a child's scrawl at it's very best, but that just means it can't get any worse, right?