EyeHerdEwe

~ An Eye for an I, a tooth for a Thank You

EyeHerdEwe

Monthly Archives: October 2008

Smells Like Team Spirit..

29 Wednesday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in My Life

≈ Leave a comment

This week has been exhausting.  I can easily work outside all day, overtime, doing physical labor, digging line, hiking, carrying heavy loads, chipping rock, building pyramids… but stick me in a room with 15 people who want more than anything to make a flow chart that includes every idea anyone in the room has had since their egg was fertilized…and after an hour and a half I fantasize about being eaten by bears.  Old bears.  I want it to take awhile so that everyone will be forced to pay attention to ME for once.

This morning while I was paying attention to my cell phone and instant messaging (LOL Jodi!) I was elected Chair of our group. (Two year appointment). AND I lost the red marker.  My repeated request for a 15 minute break was met with guffaws.  Infact, much chortling ensued at my expense.  

I can hardly wait for friday when I will help out at the Gem State Herding trial.  Me and Scout.  Outside. With animals. The kind whose shit drops languidly from the right end of their governing bodies.

This weekend I will juggle ducks for the National Collie thingamajig….or kiss sheep on the lips before carrying them to setout if thats what Jodi/Janie ask me to do.  As long as no one wants me to Lead the Sheep in developing a Livestock Action Plan or coordinate the ducks in writing their Mission Statement, I'm happy to be of service.

PS: Dianne, as per your suggestion, I tried 'doodling', but realized mid-doodle, by the stricken looks on the faces of those around me, that I should have clarified what that meant exactly, and whether it is legal on public property.

The Facilitator

28 Tuesday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in My Life

≈ Leave a comment

I got a job in fire because I'm really only capable of paying attention to things that hurt or change constantly.   I am good with computers, and software, but it's nothing especially useful.  I can make decent maps; I'm a passable programmer in esoteric languages that mean nothing to most people. I shine mostly when something is horribly wrong and needs to be fixed, many times after I've broken it and I'm panicked. 

I like to be sequestered in small cubicles, surrounded by piles of old papers and recycling.

I express myself best through crude gestures.

Why would anyone want me to represent an agency on a national working team?  It's the sort of ignorance that causes people to dress their cats in little hats and throw birthday celebrations.  (Chet has pictures. Mr. Wiggims turned three this weekend).

So, I'm in a 3 day meeting.  It's like the 7th layer of hell, only with donuts and scented markers.  I'm starting to alarm people with my not-so covert sniffing of the cherry cola red wide tip.  Our 'facilitator' keeps trying to get it from me, sidling over to where I sit, behind a pile of inferior scents, and holding out her hand,

"I need the RED one…" she says, enunciating more each time. 

I need the red one.   It reminds me of jolly rancher candies and happier times. Times when there wasn't some severe woman in an incongruous hearts-and-butterfly sweater looming over my joy.

She wants to underline important points. What about MY important points?

I've tossed her the Green Apple and the Black Licorice, the Grape, and the …whatever the f*ck that brown one was supposed to smell like. It was NASTY.  I cannot believe that the marker company kept the Brown Scent team on after this release.  The facilitator has a mole that I think she should have checked out. Now is not the time to mention it, though.

The facilitator is starting to be visibly agitated.  It's funny because during her periods of glaring at me over marker choices and posturing for dominance, the meeting is running amok without someone to guide it.  I'm the only one who raises my hand when I want to say something.  I do it to tease the facilitator. It's my marker holding hand.    

God I hate meetings. I keep suggesting breaks.  At first the facilitator was on my side.  We had 3 breaks in the first two hours before people started getting cranky. 

It's been said before and will be said again: I gesture with my hands when I talk.  The facilitator is wearing beige pants.   I can almost make her dance.

Left Right Left

24 Friday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in My Life

≈ Leave a comment

Those who know me well know that I am a as liberal as hot K-Y and edible boxer shorts.  (Et tu, Echo?) And that I love to make up expressions that only half work to illustrate some vague or confusing point. 

I have friends, however, of many political persuasions.  My own brother, to whom I am very close, was republican up until a few years ago.  (Coincidentally around the time that he quit drinking, though the two things are not connected, I'm sure. Not as certain about his revelation that the Dinosaurs didn't walk with Jesus….not in those sandals.  Just kidding! I go too far…he never thought…not Jesus… Moses, maybe…where did I put that point?…) 

I can talk politics, religion, sex, etc., with some people, no matter what they believe and what I believe,  and some people I can barely discuss the weather without a bitter argument ensuing about Whose Fault the weather is, what constitutes good weather vs bad, why I'm full of wishful thinking shit about snow being pretty and summer being good for getting up early in, and who our mother loves most. (Me. Or Chris.  He's the funniest.)

Okay. It's my sister. I can't talk to my sister, the original Judy…or OJ as I'll call her for conservation of key strokes.  OJ is so liberal, that she's a fascist.  No shit.  She starts talking in that nasal voice of hers on politics and I find myself to the right side of Phyllis Schlafly, that addled old crone from the 60's who believed that women should be shackled to the stove with their Husband Pleasin' straps tight enough to prevent too much circulation to the brain.

I find myself defending the weirdest things.  Stuff I don't for a second believe, but I just can't take the patronizing tone.  I'm like 7 years old again. ("No! I had more fun on vacation!")

"Oh, I absolutely think we should clear cut the National Forests.  All of them.  We need more parking."

"Of course the Rapture is coming and I'm driving the perfect car to unman for it. I just hope we get our new WalMart first…."

"Marijuana should be illegal except in cases where it's used to prevent abortion, which is worse, or immigration."

"I think I'll take up casserolery so I won't find myself bored and using my brain."

What does this have to do with dogs? Nothing. It's covered in my 'mostly' clause at the top of the blog. 
My sister accused the aging Trix, our mother, of being confused when she said that she didn't like Bill Maher making fun of religion.  My mother loves religion. Catholic religion.  She likes the snacks afterward.  She doesn't have sex anymore. The weather is mostly inconvenient.  Leave the poor little dear alone, I say.

I'm sending a donation, in my sister's name, to the Lake Country Chapter of Friends of NRA. I'm entering her in the gun raffle.  I have a good feeling about that.  I've ordered her a nice 6 ft inflatable cross, too.  It would be nice if they were delivered together.  In time for the Holidays…

Quiet as the Grave

23 Thursday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in stockdog

≈ Leave a comment

SConnie3b

Last evening I took the three of my dogs who weren't at the vet being old and sick (poor Hank) for their nightly walk/run/roll in something dead or digested.  Very recently I've noticed a change in Scout on these outtings.  She used to stick at my heel, except when we first started out, when she'd blast as fast as possible for a long enough stretch to prove that she could out run Zeke. 

She's gone through a few stages actually. Months ago, she'd bark and bite at my feet, which annoyed the absolute F*CK out of me, for the first 1/2 mile of the run. I'd scream, I'd threaten, I'd throw shit at her. FINALLY, she got off that kick.

She went through a relatively normal phase of following Zeke everywhere, alternating with crouching down and stalking him, pouncing on him and then racing off to do it again.  This Zeke tended to ignore, although for awhile he, too, seemed irritated by it.  When I started working with her on her "lie down" and "stay" on the trail this phase ended.  That was not my intention, but it coincided with the training.

Then Scout went through the longest phase of just following calmly and quietly at my heel. This, too, annoyed me. (Proving that I'm a thankless bitch who will never be satisfied? Perhaps.)  I worried that this indicated some sort of insecurity. 

Ever since Dianne and Jodi called me the Appendages of Yammering Ruin (not their words, exactly) I've been trying to be more aware of my vocal presence, as well as my physical.  I've been trying to lay off calling the dogs back on walks/runs unless its necessary for their safety or my photo op.  No training on the trails. This is recreation time.  Scout is back to ranging out and pouncing on Zeke.  I'm shutting up for Olympic qualifying stretches of time.  I think its healthier for everyone. 

Last night, on our way back to the car, Zeke rolled in something so foul and frothy, dead just long enough to be at maximum putrid level without having lost that juicy cadaver quality….I screamed obscenities all the way home.  All the way home.  I waved my arms and screamed.

Dianne – Dog Whistler

22 Wednesday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in stockdog

≈ Leave a comment

Scout.2

Okay…I couldn't come up with a better title. Whisperer was taken. 

Today Scout and I went out to Dianne's to try something new that she came up with to make Scout feel and respond to my body pressure. 

I spent the drive out to Caldwell listening to Estrogen Tunes, compliments of my husband, who made me a cd of Alanis Morrissette (Is it a hint? Like, 'Maybe if Katy listens to the same stuff my friend's wives listen to, she, too, will vacuum and make healthy soups and stews, instead of spreading bacon bits on the carpet every few weeks, calling it bio-shag,  and buying beer and chips by the Costco caseload'….) 

I like Alanis Morrissette okay.  After 30 miles I started to wonder if she ever keeps anything to herself, though.  Does she let any small slight go unsung?  She seems to have catchy tunes backing up a lot of whining.  She's like a melodic nag.
I can't imagine coming home to,


Did you have a nice, day? You look like it was

okay

Mine sucked, but you didn't even ask me
You never put your dishes

In the sink


Your socks are in balls

in the bedroom
and halls

And You do this to hurt me, I think

Did you think about me, Mr. Don't Flush Your Pee
Did you stop by the store on your way here
I need tampons and mead, I'm thirsty, I bleed
And does it occur to you to buy good beer?*
(*not actual lyrics… yet)

Anyway, I'm sure she's not The Soundtrack to my working/training relationship with Scout.   Jodi tried Carol King for behind our last working video and it was nice…but I still picture Tom Waits or L7, personally. At least for now.  Today was better.

Dianne had Scout and I work in the not-round round pen.  She had me use *2* stock wands to block Scout's access to the sheep while I forced her to back up off my body pressure.   Then I'd lie her down and make her wait until I released her.  At first it was all about Scout trying desperately to get around me to the sheep, barking and circling, lunging— while I tried to stay on my feet and ahead of her.  Gradually, though, she slowed down and did back up.  When I released her she was much calmer in getting around the sheep.  She began to respond to my pressure.  

Dianne worked an 8 month old pup, Teal,  using the same method.  It was really fascinating to stand back and watch her work with him.  Initially he was all shaking adrenalin and drive.  There was a pretty dramatic difference in the behavior of the dog after just a few times with Dianne calmly backing him up and making him lay down and think a moment, process, before getting his sheep.  I think the coolest part of stock dog training is the psychology behind maximizing your dog's potential.  And that much of this transfers to human relationships. For instance, I bought more beer and chips than ever on the way home.  PLUS a case of Fakin Bits(tm?).  (no pork killed in the cleaning of this carpet!)

I listened to NPR on the way home.   I was afraid I'd ovulate if I didn't.

PHOTO CREDIT: Jodi Darling

My Own Personal Arms Race

20 Monday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in stockdog

≈ Leave a comment

Saturday we (I, Jodi, Colleen, and Jaenne) went out to work at Janies on setting up the course for the Halloween trial.  It's been blogged about in better places (hayewe) and I won't go over the parts that Doll already covered since I believe the 3 people that read this blog also read her's.  Suffice it to say that normally when a man calls me 'blondie', I'd take a shovel to his head – but I never actually heard it applied to me this weekend, until one time towards the end of the afternoon.   I suspect that it was the Keystone Light and ridiculously tight wranglers talking.  Regardless, I wouldn't have taken anything those guys said or did more seriously than Pat humping my leg a few days prior out at Dianne's house.  Except that it is worth noting that I find Pat much more attractive.  We have more in common. He 'gets' me.

Sunday we went out to Dianne's house to see Pat…uh, I mean take lessons.  Jodi, Jaenne and I.  This time the Tip was for me to perhaps amputate my arms since I apparently can't keep from flailing them around like tenticals on some crazed sea creature, which my dog seemingly deciphers to mean, Play Time, since what else can all that random motion mean?   Scout was laying down for me, she was staying down, with some reminders, and she was slowing down…but we still have cutting in on the stock issues when I send her, which I know is my timing in part…and perhaps my….gesturing.

Its been suggested before that I put my hands in my pockets.  I'm not even aware that I'm doing it.  I gesture, I wave, I scoop.  I need my arms for hugging nuclear children (saw it on a bumper sticker) and I'm sure they'll come in handy later in my stock dog education but for now they seem to be …tentacles of doom.   This week I will attempt to curb my gesturing as well as my vocal outbursts.  Which will not only make me a better handler but please my family in general, I'm sure.

Video Killed My Soft Focus Fantasy

17 Friday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in stockdog

≈ Leave a comment

Last night I went over to Jodi's house and she video-taped me working Scout.  I have to say, through gritted teeth, that I'm a huge believer in the painful lessons learned watching yourself on video.   There is nothing like it to let fully sink in the reality of what all is going wrong out there.  While I'm working I think I'm aware of the mistakes I'm making, about 2 seconds after I'm making them…and when Jodi or Dianne points them out to me; I certainly know when things are not going right, but I think I like to reassure myself that they aren't THAT BAD…Scout is a little more off her sheep, she downs 3 out of 5 times… 

Seeing yourself shout the same commands over and over, your dog blowing you off…God Damn, she is in constant motion and so is my mouth! …it's strong bitter medicine.  I almost stopped watching the Longest Video Ever about 3 times, I kept getting mad at myself.  It reminded me of black and white stock film footage I've seen of chimps chasing eachother around a table.  Round and Round…hoot hoot…round and round.  One chimp is in a dress, the other in a tuxedo with tails.  It's all silent, but you can tell that one is almost constantly hooting at the other.  The point is never really clear.  The only thing slightly less disturbing about my training video is that, thankfully, I didn't wear a prom dress.  Other than that, the chimps seemed to have more of clear goal in mind and they were both aware of one another's presence.

On the bright side, Jodi was completely delighted by the video.  She danced with unbridled joy. Laughing. Clapping.  Snickering,

"Wait till you SEE IT!! OMG! It's the BEST VIDEO EVER! YOU NEVER SHUT UP! Count how many times you say, 'Scout..down…down, Scout…Scout. Down.' You will learn SO MUCH from watching this…"

I taped her working Zip.  It is worth noting that I have never seen Jodi work so calmly and quietly. You are welcome. Hoot hoot.

Today I went to Dianne's for a lesson.  At first, Scout and I made the same mistakes.  I repeated commands, with increased volumn, Scout blew me off, rushed in, etc.  Dianne, who will one day learn that on my training days she might just want start drinking around 9am,  came over and in her own incredulous DIanne way asked, "What are you doing?"

I never know how to answer this.  "Uhhhh…" seems sufficient.

Dianne pointed out how important it is that I setup the run during the first moments out there to succeed. "Don't let her blow you off that first time."

Today it wasn't so much that we covered anything new with Scout, it was more about me enforcing what I say; only issuing a command once, then getting after her for not listening.  Really getting after her.  It's the same thing we cover each time, really, but I believe I made progress today.  I kept picturing those damn monkeys.

Dianne also let me work Nicki.  Nicki is a young dog DIanne is training for someone else.   That was really fun. To experience what it felt like to send a dog on a longish outrun and work with advanced problems (Nicki is very pressure sensative) was like driving someone elses sports car. 

Then I got into my POS toyota wagon and went home.   

 

A Day at Work

16 Thursday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in My Life

≈ Leave a comment

Tonight I will go to Jodi's house to work Scout. Tomorrow I get to go to Dianne's for a lesson…but today. Today is a long 8 hours of the soul. Government Work.

There are birds living above our false ceiling here in building
410A.  It's freaking people out. Typically.  They trapped the mice,
poisoned the ants, and now they can't tolerate a few chirpy little
birds living in an unused space.  I keep leaving cracker crumbs and a
few raisins on my desk and on the floor around my chair, mostly because I'm a
slob, but also because I hope some friendly vermin will return to my
ecospace. 

"THEY'LL SPREAD DISEASE!" Derito, our 'administrative assistant',  keeps shrieking, covering her head with the fax machine manual.

I wonder what disease she is imagining.  She perpetually sports a
weeping herpes lesion on her upper lip like some sort of prized antique
accessory to her bygone sex life. She wheezes and coughs from smoking
too much.  She eats lunch every day at the McDonalds Salad Bar inside
the Chevron Gas Station.  You can almost see the employee feces on her
wilted iceburg lettuce. 

The new guy, Chet, seems okay with the birds.  "I think they sound
cheerful!" he offers. Chet is a known Cat Fancier.  No one listens to Chet. He is prone to
bringing  up old Seinfeld episodes to illustrate vague points.  Sadly,
I've never heard him describe an episode that I've ever seen.  I think
its pertinent to mention that I own the complete Seinfeld DVD
collection and, thanks to Eric, have seen them all too many times
to care any more.  Chet may be confusing Seinfeld with some other
sitcom of the 90's. I don't know.  I want to like him, since he and I
stand alone together on this bird thing.

I won't be in the office tomorrow.  Next week I will be in meetings.  After that, I'm in and out of another agencies offices on a detail assignment; finally, I have to travel to Tucson.  I'm going to be gone awhile. When I come back…the birds will be gone. I know this. It makes me sad.  I'm sad for Chet, too.  He'll be here to see it through.

"It's like that Seinfeld episode where George gets a kitten and his
mother doesn't like cats, only kittens, so she tells him he'll have to
get rid of it in 6 months…" Chet tells me as we stand together at the
copy machine, looking up to where the ceiling tile is missing a piece;
you can almost see the birds. They are so close. 

"Yup. It's exactly like that," I agree.

Chet follows me back to my cubicle and seems as if he is waiting
for something. More conversation.  I offer him a raisin. He takes it. 
He declines the cracker crumb. 

I tell my boss, Janis, that I worry about the new guy. 

"He seems like such…a…harmless fool." I say, remembering him
delicately chewing the single raisin I'd given him. Thanking me for it.

"What new guy?" she asks.

"Chet. The new security guy. The newest old Don…"

"He's been here for 2 years, Katy," she says.

God. Damn.

Weekend Update

14 Tuesday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in stockdog

≈ Leave a comment

This weekend was pretty stockdog intensive and I wish I could illustrate this with nice digital photographs of dogs and sheep in action…but…I take shitty pictures.  Always have.  Jodi takes beautiful pictures and will undoubtedly post some on her blog. My pictures are my words. Be thankful because that usually comes closer to an actual point, believe it or not, than anything I can produce with a camera.

With a camera, I always either take a shot of the wrong thing or frame the picture ridiculously….
"What is that a picture OF, Katy?"
"An ant hauling a potato chip…"
"Where is the ant?"
"It's really small…its down there somewhere…"
"Is that your garage and the neighbor's house?"
Yes, its a shot of my entire yard…I thought the context was important."

Context is important.  That continues to haunt me with my stockdog work.  Until I can master context in the physical sense, the way I over-master it in the written/picture department, I will be a shrill mess out in the field.

This weekend we took part in a demo for a little community (*cough* Victorian Stepford *cough* ) that was celebrating, as near as I could tell, vacuuming out an old barn and ….the civil war, plus the bad music that preceded it.  I might be a little jaded here because…who writes songs about a Badger in the Outhouse?  Are these words something that we need to put to music, really?  AND why in Idaho do we need civil war re-enacters?  If I had known that the event would be festooned with aged men shooting blanks, I'd have brought my mother and left my dog at home. Scout certainly didn't need to be reminded that anyone fought to keep blacks enslaved.  We both hate gunshots and balloons (and Eric's cell phone).  SO…Scout and my part in the demo was sort of frantic. THOUGH I do think it was, despite my little rant, good for us in general (no pun intended) because I did make her work through our issues.  The area we had to work in was VERY small and she worked too tight at first and I was afraid to correct her too loudly…with all the children and women in skirts and bonnets and such…plus I wasn't sure if I'd be shot for screaming "GODDAMN IT I SAID GET BACK YOU LITTLE BITCH! JODI IS LAUGHING AT US!"   I know for certain that we would have been violating some social code of the 1800's.  Women weren't named Jodi until after washing machines were invented.

Anyway, Scout did better each time I worked her, because I did better.  I was more relaxed and made her, quietly and without the use of foul language, "lay down" and "get back".  It wasn't stellar, but it was good for us.  Scout's sister, Mo, did really well for Jaenne.  I hope someone took pictures of them working together. I hope Jaenne updates her blog.

Next we drove over to the Ketchum/Hailey area to help out with the annual Trailing of the Sheep trial.  I helped with setout.  This was good exposure for me because we weren't using dogs (in the pens) so it was a good opportunity for me to be around stock and experience them from my dogs perspective.   I don't have sheep of my own, yet.  Just 4 dogs and a cat, so my experience with livestock outside of my recent dog herding forrays is …oh…nonexistent.   It was pretty impressive to me how easily Jodi and Susan could take a group of 30 range ewes and calmly encourage 5 to walk into a small pen, quickly and yet pretty languidly.  I usually ended up with 6 or 7 and it happened much more haphazardly.  I tried adjusting my pace and body movements and it helped some, but I couldn't replicate the ease.  I asked Susan about this later and she said that she sort of communicates what she wants from the sheep.  Being a woman of science, she was reluctant for this to be interpreted as 1-900 Ask a Sheep Psychic fodder, but it made sense to me on a deeper, less Shirley MacLean level too. I think Susan communicates thru her body movements, eye contact, and even more subtle language that prey animals would pick up but I can't yet, that she can be trusted and is in control; Susan never doubted that 5 sheep would walk into the pen.   Like with athletes who say that they picture the objective in their mind slightly before and as they are achieving it.  I think, again, its a matter of confidence and being fully engaged, instead of just trying too hard with your body while mentally worrying about the Badger in the Outhouse or why we don't have Vietnam or Desert Storm re-enacters.

Anyway. It was a great weekend.  I don't have a picture to prove it.

Verizon Family and Friends Xmas Plan

09 Thursday Oct 2008

Posted by Katy in My Life

≈ Leave a comment

I've lost my cell phone. So, if anyone tries to call me odds are you'll get a homeless guy or a pawn shop.  This should work just fine for my mom.  Maybe she can invite someone new to Xmas in Coeur d'Alene this year. 
"And don't make fun of Mary's ham this year, Judy!" she'll tell the confused hangover on the other end.

And this new Judy won't, for 2 reasons: 1)  Ham! Who doesn't love ham? (sorry jews and people of Islam, and me, mostly because)…2) It isn't ham.  My mother believes with all her gentle aged heart that it is, but it, infact, is turkey.  Mary makes beautiful centerpieces, decorates as if she had a Martha Stewart holiday suppository pinging the homey cutesy genes into overdrive; she's nice and she's fun…but her cooking is so bad that meats change species on your plate.  I do love her Pizza Gheen though I can't spell it. The homeless will love it because it will last for a week in a soiled pocket or so I firmly believe.

Maybe we'll all be on our best behavior with the new Judy.   I should call Mary and tell her there will be 3 Judies this year, including the Original….but I can't….

See how far I've fallen from my topic?

I miss my dogs, Eric, Carlos (not in that order! That's just the order of who typically greets me in the morning, all but Carlos, with a face lick of sorts) …

One more day of this meeting and I'm outta here.  I don't care if I never see downtown Reno again. (Sorry new Judy, you're going to love my mother's basement. I know her semi-feral cats do).

AFTERNOON UPDATE:

I went out and bought a *new* cell phone.  Almost immediately it rang. When I answered, Eric's voice asked tentatively, "Who is this?….Katy?"

He had finally received my email saying I wouldn't be calling because I gave my phone to Reno. He was calling to tell whoever had it to please give it back. Sometimes he's so naive that I want to hug him tight enough to cause slight hemorrhaging.  He seemed sad to have me on the other end of the line,

"Did you find your phone?" he asked.

"No…I bought a new one!"

Silence while he considered the worst possible news.  Eric has not replaced his phone. Ever. Not technically. He doesn't have the same exact phone, because he washed the first model in his pants pockets, accidentally, and the second one got eaten by Scout, who hates CERTAIN electronics. He tried for 3 days to duct tape that phone back together…but eventually was forced to face the grim truth.  It had only one number button left and the screen was missing. It wouldn't hold a charge…still, I shit you not, it took him 3 days to stop hoping that magically he could go on, making and receiving calls on a phone without a screen and one number 7 key, that had to be plugged in constantly to even light up.  The light is what fueled his ridiculous dream.

Finally Eric replaced the phone, as he does every time, with the exact same model, as found on Ebay.  Ground shipping.  My old phone battery wasn't even dead yet, probably, and I'd rushed out and replaced it with a newer better model.  No period of mourning for me.  Would he be surprised to come home from smokejumping some summer, a day or two later than expected to find that I'd remarried?

Hey, a person has needs.  I need a phone.

"But…what if they find it? I was trying to call…."

What if, indeed.  I ask the same question myself about the missing link and Jesus, unicorns and that boy who was supposedly raised by sea monkeys somewhere out in Iowa….

Anyway. I have a new phone. It's really nice. Because I'm A Sales Representative's Christmas Stocking.  So far I like it a lot though, the phone.  I would take a picture of it and post that picture here on my blog, but I'd need the phone to take the picture and pretty soon it becomes a real paradox of Buddhist proportions.

I love airports.  There is a woman who just walked by with her child on a leash.  He's like…8.  I miss my dogs still and more. I'd call, but even if one of them could reach a phone, and figured out answering, Scout would chew it to pieces before I could say 'Hey'…  that dog really hates inferior technology.

← Older posts

Archived Posts

  • October 2019
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • July 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011
  • November 2011
  • October 2011
  • September 2011
  • August 2011
  • July 2011
  • June 2011
  • May 2011
  • April 2011
  • March 2011
  • February 2011
  • January 2011
  • December 2010
  • November 2010
  • October 2010
  • August 2010
  • July 2010
  • June 2010
  • May 2010
  • April 2010
  • January 2010
  • December 2009
  • November 2009
  • October 2009
  • September 2009
  • August 2009
  • July 2009
  • June 2009
  • May 2009
  • April 2009
  • March 2009
  • February 2009
  • January 2009
  • December 2008
  • November 2008
  • October 2008
  • September 2008
Follow EyeHerdEwe on WordPress.com
wordpress visitors

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • EyeHerdEwe
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • EyeHerdEwe
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar