Hitting the Road

20. February 2010 · 1 comment · Categories: Our Travels

The winter chill seems to have settled in permanently over our home.  We’re now in record breaking territory, as we have had in excess of 1 inch of snow on the ground for over 75 days.  The previous record (records are for this locale, only) was 73 days back in 1974.  And, unless we have a major heatwave, this will continue for at least another 30 days!  Snow in our yard is still well over 1 foot deep.  And there’s more snow coming on Sunday.  In fact, it has snowed every Sunday here for the past month.

In light of this, and because I have an overpowering desire to see my grand-niece, Karen, and grand-nephew, Bennett, we have begun planning our “Really Big Spring Trip”.  In less than 3 weeks, Scott and I will set off for Corona del Mar, CA.  We’ll spend a day and a half seeing the family, then head for Alamogordo, spending an evening in Fountain Hills, AZ, so we can stop in and spend a little time with my Aunt Jeanie.  We’ll spend a day with Scott’s parents in Alamogordo, then return home.

Our trip begins March 10, and we get home, with luck, on March 20.  As we did last year, we’ll blog about our journey daily while on the road.

To see our planned route for this trip, down below this map is a link that says “View Larger Map”.  Click on that, and it will take you to a map with the route highlighted.


View Larger Map

Some Thanks and a Request

11. February 2010 · Comments Off · Categories: Spirituality

While adjusting to a new member in our family, and the inevitable changes in lifestyle (I have to take him for a walk in the bitter cold at 10:30 at night… THAT is a big adjustment) life hasn’t been all fun and puppy kisses.

Many of those who get my updates are members of my family, and are intimately involved in what I’m about to write.  This post is for the 2/3s of my readers who are NOT family.

This week, our family is reeling from the news that one of my young nephews (I’m not naming him, as I don’t know if his family would want that disseminated) has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  The family is blessed to have several professionals in the health care profession, doctors, nurses, administrators.  These individuals have jumped to the plate, and are moving heaven and earth and the medical bureaucracy to get my nephew all the bestest of the bestest of care and treatment.  That’s what they do so well, among many other things.

I can’t be of any help to my cousin and her son (the nephew in question) when it comes to medical things.  I don’t know a tibia from a fibula… except I think they’re both bones.

So I do what I can.  I want to thank all of you who read this blog.  Specifically, I want to thank the Prayer Ministry of MCC Omaha, my local congregation.  I want to thank the Prayer Ministry team at Resurrection MCC in Houston, Texas.  And I want to thank all the Prayer Ministry people with Excel International de Colores, an International organization providing weekend spirituality courses, similar to retreats.  All of you who are praying for my nephew, your prayers mean more than I could possibly express.

And to those not in my family, and not in one of the aforementioned prayer ministries, please add “Eric’s Nephew and family” to your prayer list.  They need all the prayers they can get.  And while you’re at it, add the medical personnel overseeing his care.

Many thanks to all of you!

More on Our New Puppy

11. February 2010 · 2 comments · Categories: Eric's Life, Pets, Ramblings

Okay, as I’ve said before, he’s not a puppy.  But it’s hard not to think of him as a puppy.  He’s got the most charming personality, and loves to give doggy kisses!

As I mentioned before, Gary wasn’t sure he liked the puppy’s name, and was considering changing it.  Monday, Gary says “I really don’t like calling him Buddy.  I can’t remember that!  Besides, it’s a dumb name for a dog.”

“Well, Gary, what do you want to call him?”  I’m thinking ‘Buddy’s a dumb name?  It’s one of the big 10 for dogs!’

“I’m thinking Pookie.”

I give Gary a stunned stare.  Surely he’s kidding!  Pookie?  POOKIE???? All I can think of is ‘talk about stupid dog names!’ (My apologies to anyone reading who may have named their dog Pookie.  It’s just stupid for US.  Really.)

“Uh, no.  We will NOT name this poor dog Pookie.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right.  We’ll keep it Buddy.”

And so it was done, I thought.  No name change for Buddy.  Tuesday, I tell one of my best friends “We have decided not to rename him.”  The chapter is closed.  The End has been posted to final page of the book.  It’s decided.

Tuesday afternoon, Gary says “I just can never remember Buddy’s name.  I want to change it.”

“Don’t EVEN mention the name Pookie.  It is NOT going to happen.”

“How about Buster?”

I like Buster.  It’s a good name, and it REALLY fits this puppy.  So, Buster it is.  Name change is now a fait accompli.  So, as promised consider this your Puppy Name Change Notification.  Pictures still pending!  In about 5 years when his dynamo runs down, and he’s calm, I’ll see if I can get one!

Oh, and poor Nikki. She just doesn’t know what to make of this interloper in her life.  I’ve been getting lots more cozy cuddly time from her.  She’ll come around!

Ophidiophobia

04. February 2010 · Comments Off · Categories: Eric's Life, Ramblings

My last post briefly referred to the “snakicidal tendencies” of my earlier years.  I really was quite surprised at the number of people who have commented on that portion of my post, a post primarily about a new dog!

Those snakicidal tendencies… probably better referred to as herpetocidal tendencies… stem from the fact that I really have a problem with ophidiophobia.  Ophidiophobia is a variety of herpetophobia, a generalized fear of reptiles.  Wikipedia says “an ophidiophobic would not only fear them [snakes] when in live contact but also dreads to think about them or even see them on TV or in pictures.”  That pretty well describes me.

I have held snakes.  That didn’t gross me out or anything.  But the reality is I fear them at a very basic level.  Like the definition, I have problems watching them on TV… my hands sweat, my heart rate increases, my breathing gets fast and thready.  I get jumpy, having a hard time sitting still.  My body tenses like rock.  I used to hate thumbing through the “S” volume of our encyclopedia as a kid.  When I would push myself and come to the snakes, if I turned a page and discovered that my finger was on a picture of a snake, I’d darn near wet myself!  Scott loves going to the herpetology displays in zoos.  I tag along.  I hate it.  When we finally finish, I have to go to the bathroom, then drink huge quantities of water.  Then go to the bathroom again.

Where does it come from, this ophidiophobia?  I suspect it came from my mother.  I think she genetically implanted it in my DNA before I was even born.  Mom was terrified of snakes too.  She came by her fear a little more naturally.  She often told me a story about how that fear developed.  It seems that back in the 30s, the lake she lived by with her family (Lake Manawa, south of Council Bluffs, Iowa) came very close to drying out.  Of course, being the 30s, it was the pit of the depression.  Mom tells that she was out playing on the dried lake floor.  Maybe she was with her sister, my Aunt Jeanie, I don’t know.  As I recall the story, she stayed out later than she was supposed to, then went running home.  On the way, her foot caught in a deep fissure in the dried mud (you know how mud dries… in a jig-saw design?) and her shoe came off.  Arriving home, my grandfather, her dad, was extremely upset with her over losing that shoe, so he made her go out with him to find and retrieve the shoe (remember, this was the Great Depression; I’m sure the expense of having to buy a new pair of shoes would not have been greeted warmly by Grandpa.)  Anyhow, at some point they stepped over a log and there was a snake.  As I recall the story, the snake was large, and grandfather grabbed mom and jerked her away from it, thus implanting her fear of snakes.  Also, as I recall the story, the snake was a rattlesnake.  But I am not sure of that part.

And so, from my earliest memories, snakes were very much NOT liked by mom.  I remember Dad taking snakes caught in our yard, little garden variety snakes, never longer than a foot, foot and a half, down to the sewer grating where he killed it then dumped it down the sewer.

Years later, while working at a Boy Scout Summer Camp as a young man (21) I had two more experiences (in about 3 days) with snakes.  The first one was while out hiking.  I startled a snake, and the sound of it slithering off made me jump.  I followed the snake, getting relatively close to it, fascinated, and trying to overcome my fear.  Later, I had the Camp instructor who was teaching about snakes and reptiles help me to hold a snake.  It was ok.  Even managed to keep my terror under control.  But, then, the next morning, any progress I made was erased.

It was my habit, as the person in charge of the aquatics program, to get up before my staff, go down to the pool, do a walk around making sure everything was okay.  Then, against all safety rules, regulations, and common sense, I’d go for a swim.  The morning following my snake handling break-through, I decided to forego my walk around, and just dove in to the pool and started swimming.  I was about half way across the pool when I heard a shout.  It was the camp ranger, a big burly man, standing on the edge of the pool off to the side waving and motioning for me to swim towards him. “HURRY! HURRY! Swim like you’re in a race for your life!”  So, I swam toward him as fast as I could.  As I neared the edge of the pool he reached down, caught me by one wrist and yanked me out of the water.

I was sure I was in big trouble!  He just set me down and pointed.  There, in the pool, not far behind me was a rattler.

“We’re having a bit of a dry season up here.  They sometimes come to the pool, drawn by the water and the mice that come around here.  They sometimes fall in.  You should look before you leap.”  He scooped the snake out, killed it, then left, taking the corpse with him.  Nothing more was said about my irresponsible swim.  And I never swam alone there again… much to the chagrin of my staff, as I thenceforth made one of them wake up early with me and watch while I swam.  And I ALWAYS looked for snakes!

But that didn’t end my experiences with snakes.  When I moved back to Council Bluffs in 1998, we lived about 6 houses from a big creek that runs through town, under the 16th Street Viaduct.  One day, coming home from work, I tromped up the stairs to our apartment on the 2nd floor.  As I entered the room, I thought I sensed movement, and reached to turn on the light.  There in the middle of the floor was a garden snake, about 18 inches long.

I screamed.

I turned, and ran down the stairs to the living room, and sat with my friends until Scott could come home and go get the snake out of our apartment for me.  A few days later, there was another smaller snake.  Again, I screamed, and ran downstairs, and waited for Scott.  This soon became a pattern.  I finally got smart, and waited for Scott to come home before going upstairs.  It wasn’t long before we discovered the walls of the house were infested with snakes.  And can you believe it?  I lived there for 10 months knowing that!

One night, I awoke in the middle of the night, feeling the call of nature.  Not thinking I trudged through the apartment, and in to the bathroom.  I stepped on one of them.

I screamed.

New Member of our Family

02. February 2010 · 3 comments · Categories: Our Life Together, Pets

Anyone who knows me, knows I love animals.  Especially dogs, with cats coming in a close second.  But I love all animals.  I used to hold out some of that love for snakes.  I hated them.  I viewed it as my duty to society to eradicate as many of the slithering critters as possible.  However, my cousin Bonnie Marie put a stop to that.  Not by criticizing my snakicidal tendency, but by what I think she was so good at… by reason.

“Eric, why do you love animals?”

“I don’t know.  I suppose it’s because they are God’s creatures, God’s creation.  Man can reason and understand.  Animals, can’t, so they can’t understand how to live in our world.”  (As an aside, I’m no longer so certain the bit about reason and understanding is necessarily true.)

“But you hate snakes.” It was not a hard observation to make.  We were in the car, and I’d just swerved to purposely run over one.

“Yes.”

“God didn’t create snakes?”

“Well, yes.  God did.”

“You said (in a part of the conversation I left out) that you love all God’s creation.”

“Uh-huh.”  I might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I ain’t burned out, either!  I knew where this was going.

“And you don’t see anything wrong with what you just did.”

I met her last comment with silence.  No more was said.  I won’t pick up a snake.  I’m terrified of snakes.  I think I’d be hard pressed to say that ‘I love snakes’.  But, they get a pass from me, now.  We have a truce.  I won’t swerve out of my way to hit them, and they won’t drop out of the clear blue sky and bite me.

So what, you might ask?  This week, we have a new addition to our family.  Scott and I arrived home from church about 3 pm.  There was a… noise… coming from Gary’s room.  I knocked and walked in.  There was Gary, and there was a dog. (Yes, the bit about a snake was just a side story.)

The dog’s name is Buddy.  “How old is Buddy?” I ask.  “I don’t know. He’s just a puppy.”  “What’s his breed.” “I don’t know.”  “Who is his vet?  Has he been vaccinated?” “I don’t know.”  “Is he house-broken?” Wait for it…. wait for it…. “I don’t know.”  “What CAN you tell me about him?”  “His name is Buddy.  Steve had to get rid of him, so he brought him here.”  “Do you WANT him?” “Yeah, kind of.”

[A little bit about Steve.  We have a tense relationship with Steve.  Over the years some things have gone missing from our house.  A camera.  A video camera.  A laptop.  We always thought it was another man, Josh, who was Gary’s nephew.  But when the last item, a camera, went missing, Josh was in Oregon.  He was there because I told him he was no longer welcome in my house, whether or not he was Gary’s nephew.  So he moved home, where he is now a ward of the state, having stolen a car. It took us another several years to catch on it was Steve.  Steve would be banished as well, but he is one of the very few friends Gary has.  Since Gary can no longer leave the house, we let Steve come over, as long as he’s never unattended.  Steve is not the most responsible of adults.  When I say “Some people should not be allowed to have pets…” Steve is who I am referring to.]

Gary’s been asking for over a year for a new dog, ever since Lacy went to the Bridge, so I knew he wanted Buddy.

So, Buddy came out to the living room to greet us, and spend a little time with us.  Nikki isn’t too sure what to make of this interloper, so she’s reacting the way she always does when she’s not sure… she’s scared.

Buddy came galloping in… he never walks, he always runs.  And immediately, the leg goes up.  Nope, not house-broken.

A little while later, I go back to talk to Gary. “Gary, I have some questions you need to ask Steve.”  Gary goes me one better, and immediately calls Steve, then hands me the phone.

Eric: “Steve, how old is Buddy?”

Steve:  “He was 6 months when we got him.” Like that tells me anything.

Eric:  “When was that?”

Steve:  “Last February.  Or March.”  Buddy is 18 months old.

Eric:  “I see.  Is he house-broken?”  Leading question, there.

Steve:  “We’ve been working on it, but no, not really.”  Yeah, right.

Eric:  “Okay.  Is he up to date on his shots.”  I already know the answer.

Steve:  “When we got him, he was.” In other words, no.

Eric:  “Who’s his vet?”  Again, I already know the answer.

Steve:  “I don’t know.”  Yup, that’s the answer I expected.

Eric:  “What’s his breed?”

Steve:  “Half Schnauzer, half Chihuahua.” Really?  I don’t see any Chihuahua in him!  He’s easily twice the size of any Chihuahua I’ve ever seen!

Well, I’ll keep the rest of our conversations on the dog out of the story, and just give you the facts.  Since Gary can’t walk the dog, I do.  I take him 6 times a day for a walk, but should probably go more.  I’m getting good exercise!  By the end of the day, yesterday, Gary (who hasn’t done anything for the dog) had had it.  He didn’t want the dog.  So he called Steve up and told him to come get the dog.  Surprise, surprise, Steve said NO!  Gary asked me to take Buddy to the Pound today, and I agreed.

But that didn’t set well with me.  It made me feel like a bad person to consign poor Buddy to the shelter.  Scott thinks Buddy is so cute, and still young enough, that they’ll have no problem adopting him out.  But, they have to tell prospective adopters everything they know, and I’m thinking the house-breaking problem might be an issue.

So this morning when Gary got up, we talked.  He really does kind of want the dog.  Okay, he really wants the dog.  Gary told me that after we decided to take Buddy to the shelter he (Gary) cried.  It turns out that Gary wanted me to take Buddy to the shelter because Gary thought that was what I wanted to do.  By this morning, he thinks it was my decree, not his decision.  Men may be from Mars and women from Venus… but Gary… he’s from Andromeda!  He doesn’t feel it’s fair to me to have to walk him, and everything else in the way of care, and to a degree I agree with him.  We have to walk him, because our back yard is not fenced in completely, and the first time out he made a beeline for the street.  “COME!” is not a command he understands.  Well, maybe he understands it… he just chooses not to obey it!

Oh, I should probably add that I told Gary in no uncertain terms that this house would not become home to a litter of puppies, so since Nikki is 8 years old and unspayed, Buddy HAS to be neutered.  And Gary has to pay for it.  I told him I thought it would come to about $400.  I think that weighed in his decision to take Buddy to the Pound.

I got on the phone today and called our vet.  I explained our situation, and got the facts.  See, not only did I think  the neutering would run $400, but I thought we’d have to take Buddy in for a checkup first… at about $100.  It turns out, I was way wrong.  They’ll do the neutering without a preliminary checkup, or we can pay for an optional pre-screening which is, they said, about the same as a physical.  They’ll bring him up to date on all shots.  And they’ll do the neutering with laser surgery if I want… an optional procedure, but recommended in Buddy’s case.  And all of it comes to $295.  There’ll be a second round of vaccinations in 3 weeks for another $42.

Scott and I talked, and we agreed we would pay $110 of it.  That’s half the neutering fee, and all of the laser option fee.

And this coming Saturday, Scott and I will jerry-rig a fence along the south side of the back yard so we can put Buddy out without as much supervision.

One more thing I learned… Buddy goes all night… seven hours… without accidents.  He IS house-broken.  But he’s a compulsive marker.  All he’s doing is marking his territory.  Neutering should help with that.  Already, I’m seeing less of this behavior.  The frequent walking, the controlling water and food intake… it’s all helping to get us to the point where we’ll be able to allow Buddy to spend time with us, instead of keeping him locked up in Gary’s room with Gary.

Now, if we can get Buddy (stay tuned for a name change!  None of us like that one) to calm down for a little while, we’ll get a picture of him posted here in the next few days… or weeks…