Magic Hands Workshop

Fruit is Dangerous

2010-03-17T07:16:00.004-05:00

From a new blog I tripped over, My Food Looks Funny. From people who have a lot more free time than I do.

The Sky is Falling

2010-03-11T09:55:00.009-06:00

Have I mentioned that the dog is afraid of thunder?

Well, welcome to springtime in the South.

Tuesday night we had some intense rain and thunder in small cells, which scared the bejeebers out of Bander-Boo. He generally reacts by huffing and pacing and panting and trying to get our attention. Jessie can sleep through the antics, but I'm a light sleeper and I can't. On the basis that at least one of the three family members should get a decent night's sleep, I always get up, take the dog into the living room, and close the bedroom door. The dog then proceeds to get on my very last nerve while keeping me awake until the weather clears.

Tuesday, that was bad, but not awful - I ended up going to bed at 10:30, getting up at 2:00, going back to bed at 4:30 and getting up again for the day at 6:00. Five hours, rocky but manageable.

Except that it rained and thundered again last night. Started at around 10 pm and didn't stop until 4 in the morning. So I fell asleep at 4 am and got up for the day at 6:30, a very short 2 1/2 hours later.

Guess what's predicted for tonight?

I can't be mad at the dog for being afraid. He's not doing it on purpose. And the most effective way, we've learned, to handle his fear is to ignore it. Not to comfort him or yell or do anything at all.

And I can't be mad at the dog today, either, because dogs don't go "ooo, I bet she's just cranky over last night, or that time I said mean things about her sister." Dogs are the ultimate Zen masters - they live in the NOW. This is why punishment in general doesn't work well as a training tool, because dogs just don't connect past actions to current reactions.

All Bander knows today, right this minute, is that he's tired, too. He didn't sleep any more than Mama did. He tried to find a quiet place in the yard but didn't get much farther than the back steps.

I am doing my very best to be patient. But god help people who cross my path. I will therefore stay home today, and prep for the coming storm. By napping, if I'm lucky.

Homework, Lesson Two: Oprah Is Not Research

2010-03-10T07:30:00.005-06:00

I mentioned in my last post that I personally fall into the "work constantly" category. That's both a blessing and a curse. A lot of people find themselves in the "I'll get to it pretty soon" group.

I understand this, I really do. One of the big benefits of working from home is that you get to make your own schedule, and be your own boss. If you're not a morning person, and I most certainly am not one, you don't have to get started at 7 am. Heck, you don't have to start until 9 am. It's when you drift off to noonish that the trouble starts.

If you don't have a clear view of what the day entails and what the plan is, it's pretty easy to just check the television (or internet) before you start working. Since each television now has about a zillion channels, chances are high that you'll find something you'd rather be doing than recording your expense receipts for the fiscal quarter.

That leads to a day of watching old movies and eating bon bons with your feet up. We all need those days, once in a while. Pretty easy to take a second day, 'cause you're tired and you worked hard last week. Soon it's Thursday. Then the twentieth and you suddenly realize that you need to mail the rent check and you haven't done a damn thing all month. You can justify it all you want, but if you have to borrow cash to pay the landlord anything you say will sound like an excuse.

What you have to do, to be a success at this working from home gig, is to harness the power of inertia. It's pretty simple: bodies in motion tend to remain in motion. Bodies at rest tend to lay on the couch and eat Cheetos.

Try to plan ahead, to give yourself something to accomplish each working day. A scheduled task. You can watch TV after you finish, but you might find that once you've accomplished one thing, you're ready for a second thing. Just keep moving, and you're golden.

Homework, Lesson One; Jammies Are Not Sportswear

2010-03-07T21:42:00.009-06:00

Well, not so much homework as working from home.

A lot more people are finding ways to work from home these days. I've done it more than once, in different jobs, so I thought I'd share some of the things I've learned.

There are a few different categories that your bad habits can fall into. The first one, my own personal trait, is the "working too much" slot. That's when you find yourself saying "oh, just one more package" and everyone else has gone to bed already because it's midnight.

First of all, I don't care how cute your jammies are. You'll need to take them off some time, and put on real clothes.

Sure, the mailbox is pretty close, but the neighbors will notice you running down the driveway in your onesie. And it does NOT look like a jogging suit, no matter what you've told yourself in the house. Yeah, it sucks up twenty valuable minutes. Get your butt into the shower and then put on some damn clothes. And comb your hair.

And like everything else I know, I learned this the hard way. It was years ago, and the details are way too mortifying, but when you meet the handsomest man EVER you don't want to be thinking "Did I shower this week? I don't think so. " and hoping to god that the wind doesn't shift.

I have soaping clothes now, and since I work with lots of oils and colorants they look like hell, but they're real daytime clothes. I look like hell, but they're not jammies.

We'll talk about schedules in another post. First, get dressed and have some coffee. And maybe some toast.

Have two cups. You're gonna be busy.

Fighting Boredom With Bacon

2010-03-02T18:36:00.011-06:00

I spent most of the morning doing admin stuff for the business, while Jessie went on a job interview. Once we finished our respective tasks, I dragged him to the store with me so I could do a little shopping for photo props. That meant a trip to World Market.

I know you'll all be surprised to hear that I got distracted in the chocolate aisle. Not just distracted, but well and truly boggled. Mostly by this:Yep, you're reading the ingredients right.

There's no possible way I could pass up such a thing, of course. So I furtively shoved one into the basket and nonchalantly strolled up to the checkout line before Jessie could stop me.

It looked pretty normal when we peeled back the foil, so we each tried a small bite, and gave it an honest try.

Jessie carefully contemplated the flavor.

I'm not sure he enjoyed it all that much.

Anyway, here's our final analysis.

A tip if you try this candy: Keep something to cleanse your palate handy. Sandpaper works pretty well, especially with a nice Draino chaser. Bleck.

Please Stand By

2010-03-01T11:52:00.004-06:00

So, we had some ongoing technical difficulties with our website. Until we get things fixed, we've changed everything over to the Etsy store for now. Which was a big pain in the butt because I have all the technical know-how of the average turnip.

This also gave me the chance to update the newsletter format - and it went out this morning. I think I managed to transfer all the subscribers over, but if I missed you, please let me know.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go break some stuff here at the house, too.

Signs of Spring

2010-02-23T18:32:00.007-06:00

Guess what? I'm not cranky!

Well, not right this second. I was earlier today, and I'll probably get there again before bedtime, but right now I'm fine and dandy. And that's because, frozen though we've been, I'm seeing signs of actual springtime.

(Side note: yes, fellow Floridians, I have heard that this is the coldest winter in many many years and many of you are just as surprised as I am, but this is my blog so the only complaints that matter are mine. Plus we had to go buy long pants, so I'm all indignant about that.)

Anyway, in addition to my lovely live oak tree in the front yard, we have this fabulous thing:

It started blooming about two or three weeks ago, which bodes well for some nice warm weather to come along soon. I think it might be a crepe myrtle - if anyone wants to chime in and confirm it, or give me other suggestions, I'd be grateful.

And it's covered in gorgeous blossoms, though sadly no fragrance.

Whatever it is, it's gorgeous, and it's right outside my front door.

Today's Tip

2010-02-20T09:15:00.004-06:00

If you are working with glue and glitter, the ceiling fan should remain in the OFF position.

Goddamn it.

My God, A Day Off

2010-02-17T19:41:00.011-06:00

I've been locked in the soap room for a solid six weeks now. Except for the days I'm locked in the wrapping room. So I was really thrilled to take an actual entire day off.

Jesse and I are still exploring the area, so we decided on a drive. Bad dog-parents that we are, we took Bander to doggie day care for a bath and some baby sitting. Then we took off to take a look at one of the resort areas, Perdido Key.

Perdido Key looks mighty fine from the air, and not so shabby from the ground. It was a little surprising that the beaches were dead empty - even on a Wednesday in February, in California you'd never get an empty beach.

We were driving east (toward the top of the pic) along the water, noticing how we seemed to have the place all to ourselves. We'd gone out with some notion of getting lunch or something, but a lot of the restaurants were still closed, so we kept heading east until we crossed over into Alabama. (This includes driving through, I am not making this up, Floribama.) We finally paused in Orange Beach, Alabama, for coffee and beginets.

Beginets are one of my favorite things about living in this area so far. It's like a donut lived a saintly life and then came back as something better. And then that something better got deep fried and sprinkled with several pounds of powdered sugar. Jesse had never eaten a beginet, and kept arguing that we could get mayonnaise at home. I swear he goes deaf sometimes just to spite me.

So, I knew that beginets were delicious. What I didn't know is that it's not advisable to eat them in a moving car, and certainly not while wearing dark clothes. Because the minute that you hit a bump, this hot fresh delicious confection turns into Satan's Fritter of Doom and bounces out of your hand and leaves powdered sugar donut prints down the front incline of your clothes, so that if you go out in public for the rest of the day everyone will be able to look at your shirt and secretly condemn you for being a sloppy eater while simultaneously being jealous of the beginet that you obviously had earlier. Plus you attract ants.

We tried to get past the problem by eating faster. Bigger bites, simultaneously. Jesse found that his sugary bite glued itself to the roof of his mouth, rendering him unable to speak and warn me not to take a big bite. Which is too bad, because I took a giant bite and then inhaled or something and accidentally sent about six pounds of sugar rocketing up into my sinuses from the inside. If I had only had a blowhole I would have looked like Old Faithful.

We pulled the car over and got out, hoping to stop wheezing and finish our breakfast but the wind whipped the box top out of Jesse's hands and then plastered me with a drift of sugar from head to foot. We threw the damn things away.

We were stopped at a perfectly lovely state park but I was pretty bitchy about being lightly glazed so we didn't stay for too long. Approximately a nanosecond. But Jesse did take a photo to prove that we were there.

Anyway, we drove home, had a late lunch at a decent (but not wonderful) Mexican restaurant, and picked up the dog. He had been bathed and perfumed and smells like a big green apple with horrible breath. Plus we smelled like donuts but didn't bring him any so there's a sort of cloud of resentment and Jolly Rancher dog farts in the house now.

I think it's time to go back to work.

Another Thing That Irks Me

2010-02-16T19:33:00.007-06:00

I suppose y'all thought that having no day job would cut down a bit on the things that got on my last nerve. Well, that puts you somewhere between "naive" and "entirely unfamiliar with my cranky existence".

OF COURSE things are annoying the crap out of me. Here's the one for today: people who list ingredients for products and include things like "love" and "good fortune" and "prayers" and other happy bullshit. Implying that their stuff is made with loving care and that everyone else's is made with .... lesser ingredients, certainly with inferior grades of karma.

Really? Because my products contain spite and malice. Actually, the body polish is full of loathing because it makes it much scrubbier. And my soap is made with ennui and angst, in alternating layers.

Tune in tomorrow, when I make bath bombs filled with formless dread and night sweats.

Hans Christian Andersen is a bastard

2010-02-15T21:32:00.009-06:00

This post has been brewing for a while.

Before we left California, I was wandering through the mall and I stumbled past a kid's store that was playing some Disney music - earworms, every single tune - and included in the craptacular soundblast was some blathering from The Little Mermaid.

Man, did they change THAT ending.

This really shouldn't go in my mythology category, because by and large I'm interested in the old root tales, and The Little Mermaid was written fairly recently (published 1837.) But it's such a terrible story, and got altered so much, that I couldn't leave it alone.

The Disney line of bullshit is the usual one. Plucky heroine defies her parents in order to gain the love and attention of a prince. Things do not go her way until she learns a lesson and grows up a little, and then the prince comes to her rescue. They live happily ever after. Much singing and rejoicing.

We will gloss over my thoughts about the prince coming to the rescue, simply noting that it's a big lie and repeating it in every single story doesn't make it any more true.

And it's completely different from the actual story. In the written work, the mermaid falls in love with the prince and defies her parents. Things do not go her way, until the prince marries someone else and she dies. That's right, she turns into sea foam, and then into air, where she learns that if she is good and noble in the afterlife, she might possibly go to heaven. Screw her entire life, that's wasted, but hey, she might be able to have a soul. Someday.

Andersen also wrote The Little Match Girl, about a sweet and deserving urchin who starves to death in the snow while hallucinating that she might get a big warm dinner once she gets to - you guessed it - heaven.

A lot of his writing is about completely innocent creatures sunk in misery who will have a better life once they're dead. And there's a uniquely Victorian piety about the whole thing, like he's standing around moaning "won't somebody think of the children" when instead of writing and moralizing and babbling about them going to a better world he could have maybe given one of them a fucking sandwich except he was so busy praying that they STARVED TO DEATH IN THE SNOW.

Anybody who would offer a starving child a prayer instead of a bowl of soup is an asshole. Writing children's stories and pretending that dead children are better off is a whole new level of sanctimonious bastardry.

So. Hans Christian Andersen sucks. And yeah, I know he also wrote The Emperor's New Clothes and The Ugly Duckling and those are fine, but on behalf of The Little Match Girl, I hereby declare him a bastard.

On The Curing Rack

2010-02-10T18:57:00.013-06:00

Well, I finally got the store open - last week - and of course now I'm behind on the blog. Damn, there really is no rest for the weary, is there?

I've been churning out lots of soap, though, and here's a preview of some things coming up soon - Arrogant Bastard, Gardener's Soap, Valencia, Carrot Citrus Ginger and Cucumber Mint.

More to follow soon, too!

Detours and Delays

2010-01-15T09:11:00.002-06:00

I know, I said the store would be open again by now, or within a day or two. So of course this post is a list of excuses and reasons that I was wrong.

First, when you move long distance, it only makes sense to move the minimum amount of stuff possible. So the cupboards are bare around here. I ran through all the raw materials before we left, then sold off all the stock, so I'm starting over.

Most of the suppliers I use were closed until the first week in January - so I couldn't even order anything until then. Things are arriving now - we've had a parade of trucks dropping pallets in the driveway, which is of great interest to all the neighbors and has given me plenty of time to practice with the hand truck.

And then there's the ergonomics of setting up the workspace. Deciding what goes where takes a few attempts and plenty of shuffling, either moving big heavy boxes and pails or lots of little tinkly glass bottles full of expensive essential oils.

And the dehumidifier should be arriving in a few days. It wasn't in stock, of course, but it's a necessity here in Florida. Oh, and the office has to be organized. And all the business paperwork has to be terminated in California and re-filed in Florida.

It's like starting over from scratch, really. And I'm old and slow. But I'm pushing, hard, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Really really.

Neighbors, and Why I Usually Hate Them

2010-01-11T16:53:00.000-06:00

We've been pretty quiet for a few days, I know.

We're finishing up with the unpacking chores, plus unpacking and inventorying for the business, and getting a new workroom set up, all while Jesse is job hunting. Then there are the supply orders, which are a) enormous, at least by my piddly standards and b) urgent, because we were out of everything and I am due to reopen. It's a LOT to take care of.

While this is going on, we learned something. Fireworks are legal in Florida. This is something I never considered, because when we lived in California, anyone with a firecracker would be shot on sight. One spark during dry weather and half the state would burn down. So it never even occurred to us that you could buy fireworks everywhere. There's an aisle for them in the supermarket, for pete's sake.

This is only a problem because it turns out that we live directly across the street from three hell-born urchins. If you saw Talladega Nights, and you remember the two unwashed brats that were in that movie, you can picture these kids. I've never seen their parents. What I do see is a six year old - maybe seven - out in the front yard every evening after school, with a shopping bag full of firecrackers and a lighter.

And of course, it turns out that the dog is afraid of firecrackers. I have no particular desire to be the lady who runs around the neighborhood telling all the kids to knock it off, but seriously, you let your second grader spend all his free time trying to earn the name Nine Fingered Willy?

I do know that their house is on the market, so I can only hope that they move on to torture somebody else. Or it's going to be a long, cranky summer.

Happy New Year, too!

2010-01-01T11:49:00.000-06:00

Well, happy-ish.

I am sad to report that things did not work out with Sandy. The two dogs started out tolerating each other, then moved on to being grumpy with each other, then open dislike. Within a couple of days we were experiencing physical violence, and had to break up a couple of nasty dogfights. Sandy actually bit Bander, which stunned me - they're both so very sweet with people, but hoo boy, not each other.

I talked to a couple of experts and got confirmation of my fears - that the best course of action was to return her to her owners, and give up on the adoption attempt.

I hated doing it. She was a great dog, and as far as the people part of the equation, we were an excellent match for her. But the stress was just too much for Bander, and the poor guy has been through too much to have his home turn into a place where he gets attacked.

So she's back with her former owners. They'll be looking for a home where she can be the only dog. If you want a great girl that loves kids, and don't have a dog right now, drop me a line and I'll hook you up. In the meantime, she gets all my mojo for a good home.

Bander's Christmas Present

2009-12-28T11:17:00.000-06:00

Meet Sandy.

Although we might change her name, because it's too close to Bander and they don't know which one we're calling. She's a half-lab, half-St. Bernard girl, about 2 years old. She's a good 30 pounds smaller than Bander-boo, which puts her at about 60 pounds.

Of course, just because we got him a girlfriend doesn't mean that Bander is entirely on board with the idea.

They're learning, and having the usual jostling for position. Well, actually, Bander is quite clearly the alpha, which doesn't surprise me a bit; but she's young, and has to learn not to be in his face all the time. It's only been 24 hours, and she's here on a one week trial, so we have time to see whether they work it out.

They do well chasing squirrels together. Bander spots them and barks, and Sandy runs over to see what all the fuss is about.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-12-25T09:04:00.000-06:00

Jackie is prepping the Thanksgiving feast as we speak.

She had a dream that she left the giblets in the plastic bag and in the bird. Whilst I'm s'pos'd to be peeling apples and potatoes I have craftily, shrewdly, deftly, furtively, and almost succinctly, managed to be thrown out of the kitchen.

So, I would love to take a pilgrimage into the past, and discuss Jackie's Calvinist and Hobbes post from last Día de la Gracias.

You see, it's a true story, and it happened like this:

A long time ago, on a continent, far, far, far away (by yesterdays standards, for in those days, they measured distances by having someone run as fast as they can and yelling, "Faaaaaar!" and when you could still barely hear him, that was considered far; which is why mother's always told their children not to run off to far) a ship set sail for the Americas. It was a long and boring journey, and not really important to the rest of the story. But they got there and set up a colony.

There was this guy named John Smith, who met an emo tween named Pocahontas (which was not her real name, by the way). You might say they hit it off right away, he liked her 'cause she was young and exotic, and she liked him for all the bling he wore.

Her family did not approve, and decided to have him whacked.

Miss P. stepped in and saved him, of course. Her father, Wahunsunacawah (which means Capulet), forbade her from ever seeing him again, and that would have been the end of that, if not for John Rolfe.

True story.

Oh yeah. We're having turkey for lupper today because we were packing on the real Thanksgiving.

Connectivity!

2009-12-24T10:08:00.000-06:00

Aaaaaand we're BACK!

A big shout out to The Geek Squad and our new router, and once again we join the computer age. Just in time for another rainstorm with dog antics, and just in time to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

I might have more to say later, but right now I have to go deal with giblets. And probably the rest of the turkey while I'm at it.

(I may live in the South now, but I refuse to deep fry the damn thing. I will, however, serve biscuits. Mmmmmmm.)

Pluses and minuses

2009-12-15T22:00:00.000-06:00

Plus: The pod arrived, three days early. Excellent!

Minus: Crap, it's raining. Gotta run through the rain with my belongings on my back like a crazed carpenter ant.

Plus: Got about half of it unpacked, and tomorrow will be the major furniture (such as it is).

Minus: Deepest puddle in the panhandle? My front driveway. Have to stand in it to close the gate after I pull the car in.

Plus: Hey! A Starbucks drive-through, with holiday latte flavors in season! Today we'll go with Eggnog. Gingerbread tomorrow.

Dog Heaven

2009-12-14T19:49:00.000-06:00

Well, we picked up the keys to the new place this morning. The rooms in the house itself are smaller than we thought, but the floorplan is great and the garage/laundry room is ideal for my soaping needs.

The best part of the whole thing, though, is the yard. The wonderful yard. The front yard has this huge amazing beautiful tree:

Best part?

Dozens of squirrels live in the trees. As far as the Bander-Boo is concerned, this is winning the canine lottery. He was the happiest he's been since we loaded up the car a week ago.

I love the climate here, even rainy and foggy like it's been. We'll see how the summer goes, of course, but so far I'm really feeling good about things. This has been a long roll of the dice, but I think we did well. Change was upon us no matter what we did, so there was nothing to do but embrace it.

We'll see how we feel once hurricane season arrives.....

Rain, Rain, Go Away

2009-12-12T17:25:00.000-06:00

Well, it's raining on everybody right now, except the people who are being snowed on, so I guess it's too much to ask for the rain to stop just for us.

We're in the home stretch of our trip now.

A couple of notes about today's drive: one, the South is all really, really pretty. I've spent my whole life in either Nevada or Southern California, so deserts are what I find normal.

If you see a bucket of water in the desert, two people are about to have a two-year lawsuit over water rights to the bucket, during which the water will evaporate and one will sue the other for emotional distress due to the lost water. Also, trees are all managed carefully with a sprinkler system, and are spaced in a very careful grid, like the fake pores on band-aids.

So my first view of a Louisiana swamp had me gawping like I just saw Bigfoot riding a unicorn. Water and trees and green stuff for miles and miles. Gorgeous to look at, even if they are most likely full of bugs and squishy stuff.

I liked the greenery of Mississippi and Alabama, too, and downtown Mobile has a stunning skyline. Plus you get to drive over a finger of the Gulf, which is freaking awesome.

The only downside is that it was grey and rainy. But it didn't rain too hard, the dog once again behaved like a champ (thank god), and we made it safe into Florida.

Tomorrow we get to drive around and look at our new home.

Wheee!

Texas In My Rearview Mirror

2009-12-11T15:19:00.000-06:00

Alarm clocks are for people who don't have dogs.

We enjoyed our day off in San Antonio. We looked at the Riverwalk, took a short sight-seeing drive, ate a ton of barbeque, and went to bed at a reasonable hour.*

At about five in the morning, Bander let us know that it was time to get up. Since there's no point in arguing, we got up, packed the cars, and took off. Part of our strategy was to miss any sort of rush hour traveling through Houston.

That turned out to be a good thing, because whoever handles road maintenance in Texas is on a wild tear-ass spending spree. More of the I-10 was chewed up and in the process of revamping in Texas than I could believe. I wanted to explain to the chowderhead in charge that instead of ripping everything out and then starting repairs, you do one freaking section at a time.

The crown jewel in the asphalt crown of freeway fuckery is the center of downtown Houston, where the I-10 - a major cross country artery that carries scads of long-haul trucks and a big chunk of travelers - is squeezed into a single ultra-narrow strip that clearly used to be the bike lane. It took quite some time to get through, and I can't imagine how long it would have taken during normal traffic hours.

We did indeed like San Antonio, but the traffic alone put Houston on the list next to El Paso of places that we don't need to visit again.

What seems endless hours later, and we've finally finished crossing Texas. We're in Lafayette, LA, and we found a restaurant that will deliver deep-fried alligator nuggets for dinner. Louisiana is pretty country, and they have fried gator.

I'm happier already.

Finally...

2009-12-10T19:26:00.000-06:00

Maybe we can sleep tonight.

The long and winding road

2009-12-10T10:11:00.000-06:00

So, you know that we hated our time in El Paso.

Two things you need to know about what happened next:

First, El Paso is barely over the edge of the Texas state line. It’s damn near New Mexico, at least as far as geography goes.

Second, Texas is big.

Vast.

Wide.

A complete pain in the ass to drive across.

However, since we had accidentally holed up in El Paso like bats in a cave, we were behind schedule.

We made good time today – 550 miles of it. From El Paso, we’re now in San Antonio, and in a MUCH nicer hotel.

The storm is over, the dog has relaxed, and all is well. Of course, we have thunderstorms waiting for us during the rest of the week, but we’ll cross that horrifying panicked dog bridge when we come to it.

In the meantime, we’re taking an extra day here to rest after the long day’s drive. We went through a part of the state called Hill Country – a much greener and prettier terrain than we’ve seen so far. If you’ve never traveled across the American Southwest, you may not realize how much desert there is – but trust me, there is an endless expanse of cactus and dust storms and sad dried up lizards. It’s nice to finally see the landscape changing.

Jessie and I are driving in separate cars, which is a pain in the ass because there are a lot of things to talk about and we’re too brain damaged to remember what we wanted to say long enough to get to the next rest stop. Among other things, we’ve seen a lot of cars with California plates, loaded up with the family belongings. Apparently we’re not the only rats leaving the ship.

I also saw a pickup truck loaded down with the back end of a pickup truck, towing a trailer made from the back end of a pickup truck which was holding a couple more back ends of pickup trucks. I guess there’s a thriving market for pickup butts out there.

And just in case anybody is wondering about yesterday’s dog panic – he’s better today. And yes, he’s on anti-anxiety meds. He’s seen a trainer (clicker method). We’ve consulted a veterinary behaviorist. I have indeed heard about Bach Remedies, DAP collars, and I’ve tried a vet recommendation of using Benadryl to sedate him.

As far as I can tell, he’s impervious to everything with the possible exception of a big rubber mallet, and I’m going to try that next.

We're Still on the Road to Morocco.

2009-12-09T18:20:00.001-06:00

Oh dear Zod.

Passover El Paso...
...Passing El Paso...
...Pass the El Paso sauce...
...El Paso de la gone.

Any of these would have been better titles than:
Eleven minutes into yesterday, the Dog, the occasional center of our tiny universe, began to pace. Not surprising, as there was a storm a-brewing outside. We were at four thousand feet above sea level, or so, the winds were fierce and the walls were thin.

Pacing begat huffing, which begat panting, that begat twitching. This in it’s turn began a chain of dog bedroom olympic events:

1. Jump onto the bed. Points for distance, height and accuracy. If you can land on someone’s privates or sore spots, gain additional points.

2. Breathe Fire. Marks for huffing directly into the face and/or drool hitting between the eyes.

3. Sitting, timed event. Cumulative, bonus points for sitting on someone’s head.

4. Freestyle dance. Artistic expression, avoid the Russian judge.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

We tried everything we could think of to get and keep the dog calm. Jackie even tried going to the truck to see if that would convince him. Some time around three, we taped our eyes open and tried to make for better ground.

Which brought us to El Paso.

We were originally planning to have lunch and continue to Fort Stockton, I think it was, but ended up in a Motel, hoping to catch a few hours and press on. Another windy room, and Jackie was way too exhausted to continue.

So we stayed for the day.

It may be a lovely town, but what I saw off the I-10 did the city no justice. Abandoned buildings, the smell of industry, incessant trains, a giant sign pronouncing that Jesus Lives. It reminded me a lot of downtown L.A. or the back side of the San Pedro docks, sans the water.

Then I turned on the t.v. to hear that dry cleaning chemicals, rocket fuel and other crap was found in the local water. Not a pretty snap shot, sadly.

With winds gusting to 100 mph, w decided to stay the night, and let everything subside. We tackled the dog in shifts, alternating walking, and resting and sleeping and whining and bemoaning our lot, for something like 24 hours, without the cool ticking clock thing from that show.

The motel had cable, and HBO, even, so we watched ‘Taken’. A fun once movie, in my opinion, although it was on two or three times. Then we watched something with Brad Pitt that was absolutely fascination and engaging.

The winds died, and all of us passed out. At 5:30 this morning, we showered and escaped El Paso.

Did you know the speed limit during the day is 80 MPH in Texas?

Yeah, not fast enough.