Please don't leave a message at the beep.

Much of my childhood was spent "on the phone" with the cord stretched across our dining room and shut in the door to the upstairs as I sought a little privacy to talk to my friends. In a world without call waiting, I find it interesting that my parents allowed this as much as they did. Later we had a cordless phone and that solved some problems in that they didn't KNOW how much I was on it! As a child who lived in the country on a farm with no one but my siblings to play with, the phone and the mailman were my links to the outside world. I loved getting mail, but that's a different post!  Still I used to be pretty devoted to my phone and wanted to caller ID to see my missed calls, had staring matches with my answering machine, and all the other typical Bridget Jones things in college.

I actually fought getting a cell phone pretty hard way back when and now I look back and think that my reasons then were wise. No one should be that available.


I vacillate between using the phone for a good old chat with friends and between using it as a tool that doesn't warrant any unnecessary conversation.  If I'm calling someone local it's because I have a question or want to schedule something or make fairly immediate plans to get together and talk. I have little patience for an extended conversation when I'm not in a position to enjoy the talk. Because with the ease of cell phones one can answer anywhere and I frequently do, but just because I can respond and ask "what's up" doesn't mean I am in a position to hear a long story.

When it comes to leaving messages I frequently don't. Sometimes because the reason I'm calling was a pressing and immediate one and if the person I'm calling isn't available then the opportunity will expire by the time he/she is. Sometimes I'm just calling to chat and I'll leave a message saying as much. Or I will leave a detailed message that can be responded to specifically instead of playing phone tag and never getting down to the issue at hand. Better yet, if someone doesn't answer I will often text them why I was calling so that they can read it and respond when they can.  What I hate more than anything is wasting my minutes to listen to a voicemail that merely identifies the speaker and says "call me back." I can figure that out by my caller ID. In fact, I've started waiting to listen to messages until after 9 pm so I don't use my minutes on them. Yes, I'm that cheap.

I do have friends who almost exclusively text rather than talk on the phone and I tend to only talk to them when I'm driving and cannot text. This can become wearisome too when it means we are having an extended serious conversation and there are things I'd like to say but can't quite word it in that concise texting manner that also conveys my intended meaning. It's a skill and I'm working on it.

Recently I've been plagued with phone calls from a few people who seemingly call for little or no reason and get VERY irritated if I don't answer, saying things like "you are ignoring me," "no one is this busy," "you never answer my calls." It almost feels like bullying. The truth is my family, in particular, has an uncanny ability to call at exactly the wrong time.

I thought this went without saying. If I don't answer my phone it is because one of  six things is happening.
(1) I am entertaining guests or talking to someone face to face.

(2) I am at the cash register at a store (This is USUALLY what is going on)

(3) I am at a meeting or at work. (During the school year, I'm amazed at the number of people who expect me to answer my phone between 8-4 -- I'm working, people!)

(4) I am in a movie.  (I WISH this happened more)

(5) I am sleeping.

(6) It's in a different part of the house and I can't hear it or I'm outside and it's inside.

Better yet... just text me, I can read that even when I'm busy and then I know if you wanted to chat or had something that was time sensitive.  With more technology, it seems like the rules keep getting more and more complicated and that some folks just aren't keeping up and it causes all kinds of hurt feelings and misunderstandings. Perhaps I just need to change my outgoing message to include some more specific explanation of what is going on that day! Until then, please forgive me. There is no (7) on the list. I promise.


(7) I am avoiding you because I don't like you and don't want to talk to you.

Meet Henry.

I picked up my sweet puppy in central Minnesota and drove him home late Friday night. It turns out he enjoys audiobooks and is a good little traveler.


We've been busy this Memorial Day Weekend with potty training, crates, chewing, getting used to a halter and leash, going for short walks, and lots of sniffing and exploring. I think my little guppy is adjusting quite nicely. He's met a few neighbors and is a big fan of my sister. He likes to listen to me read aloud and he's a is soothed by country music and talk radio. Also, by default, this little cubby is a Bears fan.

Would a dog by any other name...

...still bark the same?

Here are a few of the names I've considered. At one point I'd narrowed it to
Henry
Scooter
Rocky

However, this last week I tried one more time to find a few so I would have the just right name...
I've narrowed to the following:

Rocky

Henry

Scooter

Cubby

Bear

Barkley

I'm hoping when I meet my lil guy, I'll just know.

Countdown.

'Til the end of school? Sure.
But even more importantly, 'til I get my dog.
Yep, I decided on a breed. And a breeder. And now I just need to decide on a name.

This is my little guy at 4 weeks. He'll be 13 weeks old when I get to bring him home.

Through this journey I've learned a few things about breeders and breeds, gender, and training. Now, I get to put it all to the test. I've loaded up on puppy gear and yet, I feel like I'm cramming for some test.


I am wanting to read as much puppy training stuff as possible before he comes home. I suspect, in the end, we'll just figure it out together.

Here are the two training books I've spent the most time reading:
The Other End of the Leash by Patricia B. McConnell
The Art of Raising a Puppy by The Monks of New Skete

Mission Accomplished

 I decided last fall this was something I should do and after some persuading I suckered some of my colleagues into joining me. I figured a marathon wasn't too much if we divided the work by four.
Then I planned to do a lot of training so I'd be ready.

 

Here we are post race --Our team name "That's What She Said."

I ran the second leg -- 7 miles.  It wasn't a "fast" run, but it was done without stopping to walk which was all I really wanted.

Instead of months of training I will admit we spent most of our time designing these dandy shirts and building our playlists. I did two races before this one -- The Frozen Feat and The Diva Dash. Both were 5ks in which I beat my time here by running faster but walking part of it too. I really want to be able to both run faster and not wear myself out so much that I have to walk. That's for the next race, I think.

How to Build an Owl

How To Build an Owl

    1. Decide you must.

    2. Develop deep respect
    for feather, bone, claw.

    3. Place your trembling thumb
    where the heart will be:
    for one hundred hours watch
    so you will know
    where to put the first feather.

    4. Stay awake forever.
    When the bird takes shape
    gently pry open its beak
    and whisper into it: mouse.

    5. Let it go.

By Kathleen Lynch

via Swiss Miss

Two Tune Tuesday -- Going Country

Two of my current favorites...



"Funny how a melody sounds like a memory, like a soundtrack to a July Saturday night."



I love songs like this, with that sort of building lyric. Still, this one really makes me long for summer. I can't wait.

Bloom.

Am thinking about doing some flower beds and landscaping in my yard. I LOVE flowers and plants and it will be hard to figure out the best combinations. I have to reign it in. Start small.

But here are a few of my favorite flowers just the same.

honeysuckle, pansies, tiger lilies, snapdragons, dahlia, yarrow, daffodil, shasta daisies, gerber daisies, lilies of the valley, dahlia, sunflowers, orchids, lady slippers, peony, tea roses, wildflowers, tulips, lilacs, baby's breath, hydrangea, baby's breath, gladiolas, bachelor's buttons, crocuses.

"Wine is bottled poetry." -- Robert Louis Stevenson

A friend asked, it got me thinking. 

These are my go-to wines most days.

Wordless Wednesday -- Sushi Style

Miss Capricho

The Periodic Table Table

Theo Gray collects elements like some people collect shot glasses or spoons. I find the table with display compartments to be rather genius. I wish more of his specimens could actually be displayed in there!

Happy Valentine's Day!

I heart NPR.

Ninjas or Nuts?

The Frozen Feat --My first 5k -- on the coldest day of winter.

 With temps right around zero and winds bringing the temps way below zero, I ran/walked it in 36:13.  

Advice for running in the cold, compliments of Scheels.

Wordless Wednesday -- My New Home

O Sweet Lord. I'm Excited

What you thought I had big news? That I was about to reveal all that's been keeping me away from my blog... well, that may be coming friends... but first THIS!

I'm over the moon with excitement. God bless you, Wes Anderson. I knew 2012 was going to be a good year.

Happy New Year. Embrace the Present.

Nostalgia

  
Remember the 1340's? We were doing a dance called the Catapult.
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called "Find the Cow."
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.

Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
of rival baronies and conquer one another in cold rooms of stone.
Out on the dance floor we were all doing the Struggle
while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent a badly broken code.

The 1790's will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down what they saw in their journals without speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We would surprise each other with alphabets made of twigs.
It was a wonderful time to be alive, or even dead.

I am very fond of the period between 1815 and 1821.
Europe trembled while we sat still for our portraits.
And I would love to return to 1901 if only for a moment,
time enough to wind up a music box and do a few dance steps,
or shoot me back to 1922 or 1941, or at least let me
recapture the serenity of last month when we picked
berries and glided through afternoons in a canoe.

Even this morning would be an improvement over the present.
I was in the garden then, surrounded by the hum of bees
and the Latin names of flowers, watching the early light
flash off the slanted windows of the greenhouse
and silver the limbs on the rows of dark hemlocks.

As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.


-- Billy Collins