I read the chapter on pain and suffering in the book about animals in transition tonight while the kids were playing wii. The game required stomping on this stupid pad. That sound of children stomping on the floor annoys me to no end so I was on the threshold of pain and suffering myself.
What interested me most about the chapter was that some animals if injured appearantly hide their pain if they are in plain view and often will eat and act normal. The author supposed this was because an animal in the wild that didnt hide its pain was more vulnarable to being picked off by a predator.
Also she explained that because the frontal lobes of the brain are not as developed as ours animals may experience pain differently. I think she wrote that about 1949 they experimented with disconecting the frontal lobes from the rest of the brain in human patients experiencing debilitating pain. My understanding is that a labotomy is when they remove the fronal lobe- dont ask what me what a frontal lobe is exactly- but a leucodamy- or something like that - is when they just disconnect them. After the operation the people appeared to return to normal - doing routine activities they used to. Their response when asked about the pain was that they still had the pain but it didn't bother them as much. It wasnt debilitating. The author supposed that they had the pain but thought about it differently. They experienced the pain but not the suffering. She thought animals could probobly be similar. In fact she wrote that to an animal fear was probobly worse than pain. She failed to mention the wii game.
To think about my pain differently, I chose to be happy I have healthy rambunctious kids who are able to enjoy physical activity and bounce off the walls and pound on the floor like so many jackhammers. So I have the pain of the wii but not the suffering because I've chosen to look at it differently and also because they are now in bed.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Details
A book I've been reading about animal behavior by an autistic woman is helping me understand why horses sometimes behave the way they do. They can freak out for no reason. At least it can seem like no reason. This may be of interest to you if you've ever been bucked off onto a pile of lava rock. It is not uncommon for horses to suddenly act scared when nothing in the immideate atmosphere seams different, to the human. Its because they see details. They see exactly what is taking place. We, as normal humans see what we want to see or at least what our brain tells us to see.
Humans and horses are commonly unindated with a barage of details from our environment through sights, sounds, smells, vibrations, and feelings. But as humans we have this special feature in our brain that filters out the details that may interfere with a task we are set on.
With horses its different. They rely on the barage of details for their survival. Thats one reason their ears, eyes, and nose is so big. Their senses are hightened to detect any detail that might alert them to danger. Thats why if your elk hunting with your horse his head will come up, his ears will rise his muscles will tighten and he will spot elk way before you or will spot something you dont see and may never see. You say, "What is it boy, hunh?"
According to the author someone watching a basketball game may not notice if someone walks into view dressed in a monkey suit. And if an autistic person is watching the game he will most likely see the monkey because they also pick up on the details that we filter out. That is why she is able to help people who are having trouble handling livestock at meat packing plants and feedlots, or just ordinary pet owners. She can understand things from the animals point of view.
For me its becoming easier to understand why and how they see hear, smell and feel every single tiny detail whereas we are hardwired to filter out details. So when you are riding a horse, especially a green one, by an object, like a rock jack, that you have ridden by a million times on previous days with no problem. one day out of the blue the animal will blow and snort and shoot sidewas and pretty much acts like he's walking by a tiger. We may not see anything out of the ordinary but the animal see's shadows, or reflections, or demonds , or a wearewolf. All we see is a dumb pile of rocks. And we think, Stupid horse!
There are lots of different reasons a rock jack might look dofferent to a horse on any given day. They day could be bright or cloudy, the wind could be from a different direction bringing in new smells, which animals are way more intuned to than we are. Or maybe they smell us differently because our body is emmitting a different odor because of some mood or fear or anger. They hear what we dont hear. They also feel more comfortable at night. They can see excellent at night. We are blind as a bat at night. And horses are pretty much color blind. Wild prey animals like elk feed at night under cover of darkness because they feel safer from predetors. (I guess they feel safer at night) So maybe horses feel more vulnerable in the dailight. Basically they sometimes experience sensory overload. Thats why they want to snort and run from the scary rock jack.
So the moral of the story is: Be nice to your horse. I'm speaking to myself here. They obviously see, think, smell and feel entirely different, especially emotionally, than we do. You have to be understanding. The best horseman are those that can detect minute details and subtle changes in the horses behavior, or body position or whatever. They have an in depth understanding of the horse not built on something mystical but on tangible evidence that is usually so insignificant its overlooked by most: A little quieting of eyball movement or the re-positioning of an ear, a sigh, or when they make that sound like they're giving you a rasberry that means theyre begining to relax.
Horses are like children too. They dont have mixed emotions. Children arent ambivelent. I looked that word up and what it means is that kids usually dont have mixed feelings about who they love. I think they are hardwired to love their parents. Mixed feelings and ambivelanced dont rear their ugly heads untill children grow up some and become more like adults and their frontal lobes develop. I dont know exactly when this happens. But I'm starting to think it must be during the teenage years which makes me a little nervous because my son is turning thirteen. Darned frontal lobes anyway.
Children love us parents so much that you can mistreat them, ignore them, exasperate them and even hurt them - I tipped over some livestock panels on my boy and broke his leg and so far he's still wild about me- They always take you back with open arms because fortunately God has hardwired them to love the smell of your shirt and the nap of your neck and the sound of your voice and your big arms (to them) and the big veins that poke out on your hand. Even after you've punished them the same day- sometimes even morseso after the punishment.
Horses are a little like that. They can kick the poop out of each other out in the pasture over some jealousy or feed issue but they dont seem to hold a grudge for too long once the issue is settled. If you try to seperate them they have a cow. So sometimes after you've ridden them too hard or schooled them too harshly they've huffed and puffed and sweated and have been mad and frustrated and confused. All we feel is guilt. But afterwords when you've turned them out in their pen and they've had a chance to cool off you can walk right up and scratch them and they'll act kind of curious to see you. Of course if you turn them out to pasture they usually dont' let you walk right up to them, specially if you've used them really hard that day. But its not because they hate you, they just want to eat. They dont want to get caught and rode again after a hard day. After all, theyre not stupid.
One mare I bought, and paid way to much for has given me fits for almost two years. The feeling is mutual I'm sure. Anyway, Ive been trying to make a reining horse - show horse- out of her and its not going great. She sees a boogyman behind every rock and shadow but the fact is her genes and make -up are more like that of a wild antelope. She doesnt like her ears touched, doesnt like her feet picked up and prefers not to be touched in the flank. For six months she paced the fence if she was seperated from other horses and screamed all night. This kept me awake. She is often in sensory overload mode. So to try to make her something that she is really not meant to do has been extremely frustrating for us both. But we are making headway and I am trying to be more understanding of her. She still lets me catch her and ride her, moreso if I have a bucket of grain. If she had a brain in her head she would jump the fence and head for the hills and hide out with the elk or wild horses so she wouldnt have to be ridden at all. But kids and horses always take you back because they are not yet developed in the frontal lobe department.
Now that I have a little better understanding of this mare and my kids. I have also been recently reminded that there are two extremely important things I need to do to maintain my sanity and live in peace. The first thing is to always be thankful. When I go on a run, to get in shape, and lose weight and destress after struggling with my expensive antelope mare, I listen to music and sometimes preaching. One of the things I learned while running and listening was that the lepers who obeyed were healed but the one who also gave thanks was pronounced whole. The bottom line to me is that if I want to be healed and whole I must be thankfull. So no matter how my kids are acting or how wild and loud they can be I am thankful every day of my life that I know them and they love me and especially that they have frontal loves the size of walnuts. And I can be thankful that I've invested in this mare that has caused me to struggle and grow and learn and investigate and ponder and lay awake at night thinking of new and innovative ways to get her to do what she most likely shouldnt by nature.
The other thing that put it all together for me was this. Anger and frustration come from unforgiveness and self centeredness. I have to forgive my son for being a twelve year old. He is amazing. After school we made him water his chickens. So, its January and he goes out in his mothers sandals, and my big down jacket because he left his on the ground by the woodpile. Another of his tricks is stuffing his toes into his tennis shoes and smashing the heel of his foot over the heel of his shoes. Yes, my brothers and I pulled this stunt when we were kids. Adults always told us, "you'll break your shoes down!" As if broken down shoes were the cause of the meltdown of society. I warned my son that he would break his shoes down. Doesnt seem to bother him either but it really bugs me now, enough that I rarely do it anymore. He always wears one of my coats or his mothers to do the chores. Probobly because he feels connected and warmed emotionally as well as physically and also because he left all of his coats at school.
After his mother browbeats him into doing his chicken chores and he is dressed totally inadequate for any kind of physical labor, he shuffles outside and hooks up the hose to the frost free hydrant. Its over a hundred feet of hose so instead of uncoiling it he grabs the end and pulls on it for all he is worth untill it almost reaches the chicken waterer. The probem is that he blindly yarded on it untill there is this knot the size of a large rattlesnake colony in my hose. Then he fills the waterer, leaves it in the middle of the driveway, miles from any chickens and goes inside and sits it the warm kitchen while I stay out and untie the rattlesnake knot, drain the hose, which, by the way is all a part of watering his chickens. Then I coil it up and call his mother in the kitchen on my cell and tell her to send him back outside. And now its really cold and he comes back out in his t-shirt and mothers sandals.
According to what I've learned through interviewing veteran parents of twelve year old boys this is pretty much normal behavior. I wonder how he is ever going to make it. Of course, when I was twelve I was a total moron. But then agian I still dont know if I am ever going to make it. Whatever that means. Also there is occasionally some speculation by the children's mother as to the developement of my own personal frontal lobes.
And so I must forgive him if by appearances he does not look like he is going to be a brain sergeon at this point. Ive learned from people who are successfull at having lasting relationships that the principal reason for their success is they dont let little irritaitons drive them crazy. They dont even seem to notice them. Talk about filtering out details.
So my aim is to learn to appreciate his classic yet unique twelve year old style and love and accept him and nurture our relationship before he develops frontal lobes and turns ambivelent towards me. Because if I dont forgive him for being a twelve year old and learn to embrace his twelve-year-old-ness I could become angry and bitter because he has not discovered a cure for cancer or knotted garden hoses by his thirteenth birthday. And he might hate me, which I would deserve. So I hereby forgive all my children for not becoming rocket scientists like me. Mr. horsey.
And also I forgive the little mare. The bible clearly states: forgive the mare of thy youth, thou dipstick. and lighten up for in a short while she will wither like the grass and your not getting any younger either I might add, shorty." Seriously, I forgive her not because she needs forgiven but because I need to be less angry. I'm thankfull that I paid about 5 times what she is actually worth, not including feed, shoing, vet, my time training, psychaitric trauma etc. I forgive her because I may have thought I had this horse training deal figured out had it not been for her. She has definately humbled me, if not humiliated me but she is who she is and I thank God for her.
Humans and horses are commonly unindated with a barage of details from our environment through sights, sounds, smells, vibrations, and feelings. But as humans we have this special feature in our brain that filters out the details that may interfere with a task we are set on.
With horses its different. They rely on the barage of details for their survival. Thats one reason their ears, eyes, and nose is so big. Their senses are hightened to detect any detail that might alert them to danger. Thats why if your elk hunting with your horse his head will come up, his ears will rise his muscles will tighten and he will spot elk way before you or will spot something you dont see and may never see. You say, "What is it boy, hunh?"
According to the author someone watching a basketball game may not notice if someone walks into view dressed in a monkey suit. And if an autistic person is watching the game he will most likely see the monkey because they also pick up on the details that we filter out. That is why she is able to help people who are having trouble handling livestock at meat packing plants and feedlots, or just ordinary pet owners. She can understand things from the animals point of view.
For me its becoming easier to understand why and how they see hear, smell and feel every single tiny detail whereas we are hardwired to filter out details. So when you are riding a horse, especially a green one, by an object, like a rock jack, that you have ridden by a million times on previous days with no problem. one day out of the blue the animal will blow and snort and shoot sidewas and pretty much acts like he's walking by a tiger. We may not see anything out of the ordinary but the animal see's shadows, or reflections, or demonds , or a wearewolf. All we see is a dumb pile of rocks. And we think, Stupid horse!
There are lots of different reasons a rock jack might look dofferent to a horse on any given day. They day could be bright or cloudy, the wind could be from a different direction bringing in new smells, which animals are way more intuned to than we are. Or maybe they smell us differently because our body is emmitting a different odor because of some mood or fear or anger. They hear what we dont hear. They also feel more comfortable at night. They can see excellent at night. We are blind as a bat at night. And horses are pretty much color blind. Wild prey animals like elk feed at night under cover of darkness because they feel safer from predetors. (I guess they feel safer at night) So maybe horses feel more vulnerable in the dailight. Basically they sometimes experience sensory overload. Thats why they want to snort and run from the scary rock jack.
So the moral of the story is: Be nice to your horse. I'm speaking to myself here. They obviously see, think, smell and feel entirely different, especially emotionally, than we do. You have to be understanding. The best horseman are those that can detect minute details and subtle changes in the horses behavior, or body position or whatever. They have an in depth understanding of the horse not built on something mystical but on tangible evidence that is usually so insignificant its overlooked by most: A little quieting of eyball movement or the re-positioning of an ear, a sigh, or when they make that sound like they're giving you a rasberry that means theyre begining to relax.
Horses are like children too. They dont have mixed emotions. Children arent ambivelent. I looked that word up and what it means is that kids usually dont have mixed feelings about who they love. I think they are hardwired to love their parents. Mixed feelings and ambivelanced dont rear their ugly heads untill children grow up some and become more like adults and their frontal lobes develop. I dont know exactly when this happens. But I'm starting to think it must be during the teenage years which makes me a little nervous because my son is turning thirteen. Darned frontal lobes anyway.
Children love us parents so much that you can mistreat them, ignore them, exasperate them and even hurt them - I tipped over some livestock panels on my boy and broke his leg and so far he's still wild about me- They always take you back with open arms because fortunately God has hardwired them to love the smell of your shirt and the nap of your neck and the sound of your voice and your big arms (to them) and the big veins that poke out on your hand. Even after you've punished them the same day- sometimes even morseso after the punishment.
Horses are a little like that. They can kick the poop out of each other out in the pasture over some jealousy or feed issue but they dont seem to hold a grudge for too long once the issue is settled. If you try to seperate them they have a cow. So sometimes after you've ridden them too hard or schooled them too harshly they've huffed and puffed and sweated and have been mad and frustrated and confused. All we feel is guilt. But afterwords when you've turned them out in their pen and they've had a chance to cool off you can walk right up and scratch them and they'll act kind of curious to see you. Of course if you turn them out to pasture they usually dont' let you walk right up to them, specially if you've used them really hard that day. But its not because they hate you, they just want to eat. They dont want to get caught and rode again after a hard day. After all, theyre not stupid.
One mare I bought, and paid way to much for has given me fits for almost two years. The feeling is mutual I'm sure. Anyway, Ive been trying to make a reining horse - show horse- out of her and its not going great. She sees a boogyman behind every rock and shadow but the fact is her genes and make -up are more like that of a wild antelope. She doesnt like her ears touched, doesnt like her feet picked up and prefers not to be touched in the flank. For six months she paced the fence if she was seperated from other horses and screamed all night. This kept me awake. She is often in sensory overload mode. So to try to make her something that she is really not meant to do has been extremely frustrating for us both. But we are making headway and I am trying to be more understanding of her. She still lets me catch her and ride her, moreso if I have a bucket of grain. If she had a brain in her head she would jump the fence and head for the hills and hide out with the elk or wild horses so she wouldnt have to be ridden at all. But kids and horses always take you back because they are not yet developed in the frontal lobe department.
Now that I have a little better understanding of this mare and my kids. I have also been recently reminded that there are two extremely important things I need to do to maintain my sanity and live in peace. The first thing is to always be thankful. When I go on a run, to get in shape, and lose weight and destress after struggling with my expensive antelope mare, I listen to music and sometimes preaching. One of the things I learned while running and listening was that the lepers who obeyed were healed but the one who also gave thanks was pronounced whole. The bottom line to me is that if I want to be healed and whole I must be thankfull. So no matter how my kids are acting or how wild and loud they can be I am thankful every day of my life that I know them and they love me and especially that they have frontal loves the size of walnuts. And I can be thankful that I've invested in this mare that has caused me to struggle and grow and learn and investigate and ponder and lay awake at night thinking of new and innovative ways to get her to do what she most likely shouldnt by nature.
The other thing that put it all together for me was this. Anger and frustration come from unforgiveness and self centeredness. I have to forgive my son for being a twelve year old. He is amazing. After school we made him water his chickens. So, its January and he goes out in his mothers sandals, and my big down jacket because he left his on the ground by the woodpile. Another of his tricks is stuffing his toes into his tennis shoes and smashing the heel of his foot over the heel of his shoes. Yes, my brothers and I pulled this stunt when we were kids. Adults always told us, "you'll break your shoes down!" As if broken down shoes were the cause of the meltdown of society. I warned my son that he would break his shoes down. Doesnt seem to bother him either but it really bugs me now, enough that I rarely do it anymore. He always wears one of my coats or his mothers to do the chores. Probobly because he feels connected and warmed emotionally as well as physically and also because he left all of his coats at school.
After his mother browbeats him into doing his chicken chores and he is dressed totally inadequate for any kind of physical labor, he shuffles outside and hooks up the hose to the frost free hydrant. Its over a hundred feet of hose so instead of uncoiling it he grabs the end and pulls on it for all he is worth untill it almost reaches the chicken waterer. The probem is that he blindly yarded on it untill there is this knot the size of a large rattlesnake colony in my hose. Then he fills the waterer, leaves it in the middle of the driveway, miles from any chickens and goes inside and sits it the warm kitchen while I stay out and untie the rattlesnake knot, drain the hose, which, by the way is all a part of watering his chickens. Then I coil it up and call his mother in the kitchen on my cell and tell her to send him back outside. And now its really cold and he comes back out in his t-shirt and mothers sandals.
According to what I've learned through interviewing veteran parents of twelve year old boys this is pretty much normal behavior. I wonder how he is ever going to make it. Of course, when I was twelve I was a total moron. But then agian I still dont know if I am ever going to make it. Whatever that means. Also there is occasionally some speculation by the children's mother as to the developement of my own personal frontal lobes.
And so I must forgive him if by appearances he does not look like he is going to be a brain sergeon at this point. Ive learned from people who are successfull at having lasting relationships that the principal reason for their success is they dont let little irritaitons drive them crazy. They dont even seem to notice them. Talk about filtering out details.
So my aim is to learn to appreciate his classic yet unique twelve year old style and love and accept him and nurture our relationship before he develops frontal lobes and turns ambivelent towards me. Because if I dont forgive him for being a twelve year old and learn to embrace his twelve-year-old-ness I could become angry and bitter because he has not discovered a cure for cancer or knotted garden hoses by his thirteenth birthday. And he might hate me, which I would deserve. So I hereby forgive all my children for not becoming rocket scientists like me. Mr. horsey.
And also I forgive the little mare. The bible clearly states: forgive the mare of thy youth, thou dipstick. and lighten up for in a short while she will wither like the grass and your not getting any younger either I might add, shorty." Seriously, I forgive her not because she needs forgiven but because I need to be less angry. I'm thankfull that I paid about 5 times what she is actually worth, not including feed, shoing, vet, my time training, psychaitric trauma etc. I forgive her because I may have thought I had this horse training deal figured out had it not been for her. She has definately humbled me, if not humiliated me but she is who she is and I thank God for her.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Gracie Grabs the Rebound! (with her head)
Today I was going to edit my story about Edd and I will eventually because it needs some cleaning up but for now I must tell you about my kids basketball game.
Charlies game was pretty much the norm for him as at age six he is an old veteran of games which end up pretty much the same. So I will not comment on it at this point. But Gracies game was no ordinary game because Gracie starred in it. It was her first official game with uniforms and refs and such. The teams consisted of 2nd grade boys and girls with skills ranging from those of pretty good little basketball players to children who wandered about in a daze thinking they had stepped into an unruly line for snacks. Gracy was more excited about the postgame snack than the game itself. She was extremely nervous about the game.
Once the game started and she began playing it was evident that she had spent much time around the basketball court. Her coach who was also the referee asigned her to guard an opposing kid who was larger than her and sported sideburns and a mustache. She did a fine job and shut him down, holding him to 27 points and 30 rebounds. Actually I think he scored like one baskeet but my point is her defense could use a little work. But she made up for it by guarding him on the offensive end of the court also. What that means for you non basketball types is that when her team had the ball and were trying to score she guarded the kid who was guarding her, which strategically took him out of the equasion. A brilliant display of gamesmanship if you ask me. So they stood face to face, or face to bellybutton, most of the game - a foot apart - with their arms out in defensive stance mode, waving their arms. Sometimes they jumped hysterically.
When a shot was fired up Gracie assumed elite rebounder positioning by crossing her arms over her head, ducking and closing her eyes. This did not go unnoticed by the crowd who showed their appreciation by shouting positive reinforcement statements and esteeme enhancing encouragement while laughing hysterically..She did get to touch the ball once when she was guarding her man beneath the basket where her mother was sitting- coachlike on a metal chair. She hollered "GRACIEGETBEETWEENYOURMANANDTHEBASKET! And Gracie lowered her arms- a mistake that sometimes tired boxers make before being KO'd. Someone shot the ball and sure enough the ball careened off the rim and bonked her right in the head. "COVER YOUR HEAD YOU FOOL! I shouted to no avail. I think it rung her bell because she kept holding her head but she was smiling- many a child in these games leaves bawling like a calf to the sidelines where they colapse in their mothers arms and sob but not Gracie, she stepped her game up to a new level to borrow a phrase that sportscasters blather about but nobody really knows exactly what it means.
Anyway the climax of the game was when the ball bounced off some kids knee and dribbled down the court of its own accord untill it came treacheraously close to Gracie who, assuming elite rebounding position, opened here eyes long enough to see the ball rolling by. Eerily there were no defenders within several feet of her so she picked up the ball and executed a textbook jumpshot and drained that baby. Nothing but net. Swish. The crowd erupeted in euphoria and praise and her mother and I looked at each other in jaw dropped disbelief. We were relieved and happy for our delicate little girl and she was excited, ready to make basketball a major part of her life. She didnt even act upset at the revelation that her coach did not bring snacks. Charlie gave her one of his cheese and crackers. He didn't care. He was in a sharing mood because he'd had a pretty good game himself ammassing 35 points and 45 rebounds.
Charlies game was pretty much the norm for him as at age six he is an old veteran of games which end up pretty much the same. So I will not comment on it at this point. But Gracies game was no ordinary game because Gracie starred in it. It was her first official game with uniforms and refs and such. The teams consisted of 2nd grade boys and girls with skills ranging from those of pretty good little basketball players to children who wandered about in a daze thinking they had stepped into an unruly line for snacks. Gracy was more excited about the postgame snack than the game itself. She was extremely nervous about the game.
Once the game started and she began playing it was evident that she had spent much time around the basketball court. Her coach who was also the referee asigned her to guard an opposing kid who was larger than her and sported sideburns and a mustache. She did a fine job and shut him down, holding him to 27 points and 30 rebounds. Actually I think he scored like one baskeet but my point is her defense could use a little work. But she made up for it by guarding him on the offensive end of the court also. What that means for you non basketball types is that when her team had the ball and were trying to score she guarded the kid who was guarding her, which strategically took him out of the equasion. A brilliant display of gamesmanship if you ask me. So they stood face to face, or face to bellybutton, most of the game - a foot apart - with their arms out in defensive stance mode, waving their arms. Sometimes they jumped hysterically.
When a shot was fired up Gracie assumed elite rebounder positioning by crossing her arms over her head, ducking and closing her eyes. This did not go unnoticed by the crowd who showed their appreciation by shouting positive reinforcement statements and esteeme enhancing encouragement while laughing hysterically..She did get to touch the ball once when she was guarding her man beneath the basket where her mother was sitting- coachlike on a metal chair. She hollered "GRACIEGETBEETWEENYOURMANANDTHEBASKET! And Gracie lowered her arms- a mistake that sometimes tired boxers make before being KO'd. Someone shot the ball and sure enough the ball careened off the rim and bonked her right in the head. "COVER YOUR HEAD YOU FOOL! I shouted to no avail. I think it rung her bell because she kept holding her head but she was smiling- many a child in these games leaves bawling like a calf to the sidelines where they colapse in their mothers arms and sob but not Gracie, she stepped her game up to a new level to borrow a phrase that sportscasters blather about but nobody really knows exactly what it means.
Anyway the climax of the game was when the ball bounced off some kids knee and dribbled down the court of its own accord untill it came treacheraously close to Gracie who, assuming elite rebounding position, opened here eyes long enough to see the ball rolling by. Eerily there were no defenders within several feet of her so she picked up the ball and executed a textbook jumpshot and drained that baby. Nothing but net. Swish. The crowd erupeted in euphoria and praise and her mother and I looked at each other in jaw dropped disbelief. We were relieved and happy for our delicate little girl and she was excited, ready to make basketball a major part of her life. She didnt even act upset at the revelation that her coach did not bring snacks. Charlie gave her one of his cheese and crackers. He didn't care. He was in a sharing mood because he'd had a pretty good game himself ammassing 35 points and 45 rebounds.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Dummy!- Year in Review Wrap up
The last notable thing that happened this year, not really, but at least before the kids had gone back to school after Holiday break was that my wife called me a dummy. She had been racking her brain getting our taxes squared away before the new year began and two days into the year I asked her to pay a bill that she had dismissed. We could have financed the bailouts with my health insurance deductibles this year- we paid so much that we were up to the point we could deduct them off our taxes.
A few years ago I traded a dentist in town a root canal for some horse training. I got my root canal done- it was somewhat of an emergency. I was chewing on a candy cane and and old filling broke taking part of my tooth with it. Anyway she never collected although we contacted her several times. She was too busy or something. Anyway Pookies take on the deal was that we contacted her several times and she never got back to us so therefore she was no longer interested in the training and chose not to collect on the debt. My take was that she had done us a favor when we were poor people living in an apartment in a pole barn and we should pay her back now that we can afford it.
Being the thoughtfull and sensitive husband I am I waited till after the first of the year, "when the dust settled" to tell her that I wanted it paid off. We're talking 700 bucks here. When I gave her the news she was flat out mad. "Why didn't you tell me before the first of the year when I needed tax deductions. Dummy!"
Except for the fact that she meant it Dummy is not what it sounds like at our house. I call the kids Dummy, We call our dog and cat Dummy and our horses Dummies. Its a term of endearment. I think its funny when someone gets uncontrollably mad and calls somebody else a dummy. So its a joke.
It started for me in Alaska when I worked for fast Eddy, a local land developer who bought up parcells of peat moss and spruce trees, and developed the land using talented employees such as myself to lay water and sewer pipe in the bogs. It was glamerous work. We wore hip waders. Eddy gave me a job and invited me to go to his church. I wrangled horses for a hunting guide in the alaska range and met Ed who flew in local moose hunters to the area. After hunting season I lived in a single wide in town with another guide named Duane whose wife had left him. There was no running water or electricity in the single wide but the manager of the McDonalds across stthe street had told Duane that his wife was welcome to use the toilet whenever she wanted. But Duane couldnt figure out why she left.
Anyway I worked for Eddy that fall and he took me in as kind of an adaptee. I wore my wrinkled wool sweater and long hair and stupid beard to his church and everyone treated me like a long lost friend so I felt right at home. They might have thought I was a bum. Its amazing how people sometimes cant tell a real mountain man from a bum. Anyway I was in my early twenties and there wasnt a Sunday that went by that I wasnt invited to have dinner with Ed and somebody at church. Every Sunday. In fact Ed had a heart to heart talk with me about the Lord sittiing in Ed's pickup in the Denny's parking lot. In later years would offer me a tool shed to camp in, then one of his homes, and then his own home. Sometimes we would play hookie from work and fly his cub across the inlet and salmon fish. Once, later when I was flying my brother and dad came up for a visit. Eddy had two airplanes and he let me fly one so I could take my brother and He could take Dad. We flew to the Kustatan and caught silver salmon until our arms gave out... that was quite a deal- "Here kid- you take your brother in this airplane- pull back on this to go up, keep pulling to go back down ha ha."
My brother reminded me the other day that when we were about to land I said, "Well, here goes nothing." Gave him lots of convidence.
Anyway there are lots of stories about Ed to tell, like how his dog would sit outside the Dennys parking lot waiting for him and sometimes drag her itchy fanny across the parking lot in an effort to get relief. Everybody gave her scraps from Dennys so she stunk like a rotten billy goat- once when it got really cold we tried to let her ride up front in the pickup but she had gas so bad we changed our mines and threw her back in the back again. We used Crisco to lube the pipes and once somebody got a but chewin for not using enough. Come to find out Ladybug - that stinking dog had come behind the lube technition and ate all the Crisco.
One time at Dennys they gave Edd raw eggs- when he asked them kindly recook them they got their pantys in a wad and the manager came out and got all defensive and was a total dipstick and finally about the third time they brought the eggs back he said "Good, cause I'm just gonna feed them to my dog anyway and he took the plate outside and flipped them to Ladybug who was dragging her hiney across the parking lot with a stupid grin on her face. I'm sure he's not to proud of that story- he probobly felt bad- He was a larger than life friend and I looked up to him and we spend lots and lots of time together and were close friends.
Once we were in a shopping mall and he got tired. We worked lots and fished and goofed around a lot when we could so when he got tired, he just went to sleep. So we were in this mall and he layed down on the floor and fell asleep. He used to do that in his airplane with his kids. Here
Travis take the airplane- so Travis would steer while his dad took a nap.
People walked by and ask if he was ok- I was using a pay phone-- he was on the floor sleeping- two steet people in waders who smelled like Crisco.
Anyway, once in a while when we were actually doing some work, he was my boss you know, If I made a little mistake he would call me a Dummy. Then he would get this big grin on his face. And maybe if it was a good day and we were doing more goofing off than work he would call me Dummy twice in the same day and laugh and for a long time he was my very best friend.
A few years ago I traded a dentist in town a root canal for some horse training. I got my root canal done- it was somewhat of an emergency. I was chewing on a candy cane and and old filling broke taking part of my tooth with it. Anyway she never collected although we contacted her several times. She was too busy or something. Anyway Pookies take on the deal was that we contacted her several times and she never got back to us so therefore she was no longer interested in the training and chose not to collect on the debt. My take was that she had done us a favor when we were poor people living in an apartment in a pole barn and we should pay her back now that we can afford it.
Being the thoughtfull and sensitive husband I am I waited till after the first of the year, "when the dust settled" to tell her that I wanted it paid off. We're talking 700 bucks here. When I gave her the news she was flat out mad. "Why didn't you tell me before the first of the year when I needed tax deductions. Dummy!"
Except for the fact that she meant it Dummy is not what it sounds like at our house. I call the kids Dummy, We call our dog and cat Dummy and our horses Dummies. Its a term of endearment. I think its funny when someone gets uncontrollably mad and calls somebody else a dummy. So its a joke.
It started for me in Alaska when I worked for fast Eddy, a local land developer who bought up parcells of peat moss and spruce trees, and developed the land using talented employees such as myself to lay water and sewer pipe in the bogs. It was glamerous work. We wore hip waders. Eddy gave me a job and invited me to go to his church. I wrangled horses for a hunting guide in the alaska range and met Ed who flew in local moose hunters to the area. After hunting season I lived in a single wide in town with another guide named Duane whose wife had left him. There was no running water or electricity in the single wide but the manager of the McDonalds across stthe street had told Duane that his wife was welcome to use the toilet whenever she wanted. But Duane couldnt figure out why she left.
Anyway I worked for Eddy that fall and he took me in as kind of an adaptee. I wore my wrinkled wool sweater and long hair and stupid beard to his church and everyone treated me like a long lost friend so I felt right at home. They might have thought I was a bum. Its amazing how people sometimes cant tell a real mountain man from a bum. Anyway I was in my early twenties and there wasnt a Sunday that went by that I wasnt invited to have dinner with Ed and somebody at church. Every Sunday. In fact Ed had a heart to heart talk with me about the Lord sittiing in Ed's pickup in the Denny's parking lot. In later years would offer me a tool shed to camp in, then one of his homes, and then his own home. Sometimes we would play hookie from work and fly his cub across the inlet and salmon fish. Once, later when I was flying my brother and dad came up for a visit. Eddy had two airplanes and he let me fly one so I could take my brother and He could take Dad. We flew to the Kustatan and caught silver salmon until our arms gave out... that was quite a deal- "Here kid- you take your brother in this airplane- pull back on this to go up, keep pulling to go back down ha ha."
My brother reminded me the other day that when we were about to land I said, "Well, here goes nothing." Gave him lots of convidence.
Anyway there are lots of stories about Ed to tell, like how his dog would sit outside the Dennys parking lot waiting for him and sometimes drag her itchy fanny across the parking lot in an effort to get relief. Everybody gave her scraps from Dennys so she stunk like a rotten billy goat- once when it got really cold we tried to let her ride up front in the pickup but she had gas so bad we changed our mines and threw her back in the back again. We used Crisco to lube the pipes and once somebody got a but chewin for not using enough. Come to find out Ladybug - that stinking dog had come behind the lube technition and ate all the Crisco.
One time at Dennys they gave Edd raw eggs- when he asked them kindly recook them they got their pantys in a wad and the manager came out and got all defensive and was a total dipstick and finally about the third time they brought the eggs back he said "Good, cause I'm just gonna feed them to my dog anyway and he took the plate outside and flipped them to Ladybug who was dragging her hiney across the parking lot with a stupid grin on her face. I'm sure he's not to proud of that story- he probobly felt bad- He was a larger than life friend and I looked up to him and we spend lots and lots of time together and were close friends.
Once we were in a shopping mall and he got tired. We worked lots and fished and goofed around a lot when we could so when he got tired, he just went to sleep. So we were in this mall and he layed down on the floor and fell asleep. He used to do that in his airplane with his kids. Here
Travis take the airplane- so Travis would steer while his dad took a nap.
People walked by and ask if he was ok- I was using a pay phone-- he was on the floor sleeping- two steet people in waders who smelled like Crisco.
Anyway, once in a while when we were actually doing some work, he was my boss you know, If I made a little mistake he would call me a Dummy. Then he would get this big grin on his face. And maybe if it was a good day and we were doing more goofing off than work he would call me Dummy twice in the same day and laugh and for a long time he was my very best friend.
Special THanks to Danny Dunne
Thanks Danny for this gaget you sent me that enables me to blog from my Google home page. I'm reading a book right now by Temple Granin, an autistic author who wrote Thinking in pictures. This book is called animals in translation. Its about animal behavior and emotions which the author relates to due to her autism because her senses are hightened in certain areas as are animals. (Using the mysteries of autism to decode animal behaviour. Its very enlightning - right now I'm reading the chapter called How to Make a Pig Fall in Love. Stay tuned for more insightful observations. Comming up: The Boar Police
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Year in Review Continued - Partying with the Beavers
Technically the Gracie ordeal started before the new year. The reason I know this is because on New years Eve we partied with the Beavers. It was a Christian party so we didnt drink or anything we just ate and visited and some people played games. It was nice- all of the people involved had children like us, so while it was a nice Christian party it still sounded like a drunken orgy because of the children, which due to sugar intake were spiraling out of controll.
Not really, the wii game kept them pretty occupied. But what I'm getting at is that right after new years I announced we were going home and as we were leaving the Beavers announced the annual sledding party- right in front of the children. The smart people at the party let on that they were going sledding because they were savvy to the wiles of the partying Beavers. But My naive wife and I who generally hate sledding stammered around making excuses. By the next day we new we should do the right thing and take the kids sledding.
One thing, I dont have proper sledding attire- I have hunting and working outdoor gear but mostly I wear my greasy carharts made for workers who sweat spit and swear (on or at their carharts) In the olden days when Wade was a baby and we were youth leaders Linda wore my old carharts which had shrunk in the wash. When we took the kids sledding we looked like we just finished a big job laying sewer pipe. Finally Pookie at least bought some legitimate looking snow gear.
The next day we headed to the hills and on the way witnessed the destruction caused by 80 mph wind gusts which were happening as we drove. Also it was raining. Sideways. We met at the grocery store in Sisters and the Beavers, more or less an appropreately named family because they really are are funloving hard working otter type people with a passle of fun loving otter children, always attending, throwing, or otherwise involved in a party of some fashion, made the command decision to not turn back.
Loyd had a truckload of dry firewood so when the caravan arrived we offloaded the children with their sleds and they headed to the top of this hill, that was covered in ice and boobytrapped with huge Ponderosa pine trees. The wind was whipping through there doubling the trees in two. The rain was steady.
Loyd was having a little trouble starting the fire in the rain so my carharts and I made a sheild to stop the wind and he ignited some newspaper and threw it on the wood which was covered with saw gas. Nothing. Since Loyd had wisely brought a gallon of saw gas I went ahead and filled a dixie cup and threw it on the fire. Better, but the wood was getting pretty wet so the fire didnt take off too great. Another dixie cup, from a distance- still nothing.
So Jason Beaver takes the gas can and starts pouring it on the fire and I told him that wasnt such a good Idea and Marcus, a teenager even, told Jason not to do it. But Jason got the fire going and about the time I thought Jason must know something I dont he caught himself on fire. He dropped the can which was flaming from the spout.
Not exactly knowing what to do we began beating on Jason because 1) he was on fire 2) how often do you get to beat on someone who invited you sledding in front of your children. We made sure he was good and out before we quit smacking him.
After we got Jason out I walked up the hill to warn the children about sledding headlong into a pine tree. The wind through the pine trees caused them to pop like bullwips. The rain was still steady. Great, I fugured, the unneasyness I feel is probobly God trying to tell me to get my family out of there before they were crushed by a blow-down. But I turned a deaf ear to God because I didnt want to dissapoint my kids or the Beavers who could have me excommunticated from the party scene.
Meanwhile back at the fire Mark was roasting organic polish weenies over the fire which was blazing and big. Linda and I ate sprouted bread tuna sandwiches to serve as recompence for the feeding frensy from the night before. We had a great time eating, visiting and occasionally thumping on Jason Beaver just in case. The kids slogged down to the fire for chillie dogs and for once in their lives ate like ravenous wolves and asked for seconds.
When the rain had soaked through my wool cap I announced that it was time to go. I dont know who announces these things when Im not around but you wouldnt beleive how quick everyone in the entire campground packs up when I give the word. Its as if nobody wants to be the party pooper. My job is party pooping. Thats what I do do. Ask my kids. I'm the first one to recognise when the funs over. OK funs over! Once I give the word you can bet that in about 10 minutes you'll hear nothing but crickets chirping. Even the Beavers pack up. Its as if they are saying, Someone please, save us from our partying selves. More likely they just have another party to get to.
Not really, the wii game kept them pretty occupied. But what I'm getting at is that right after new years I announced we were going home and as we were leaving the Beavers announced the annual sledding party- right in front of the children. The smart people at the party let on that they were going sledding because they were savvy to the wiles of the partying Beavers. But My naive wife and I who generally hate sledding stammered around making excuses. By the next day we new we should do the right thing and take the kids sledding.
One thing, I dont have proper sledding attire- I have hunting and working outdoor gear but mostly I wear my greasy carharts made for workers who sweat spit and swear (on or at their carharts) In the olden days when Wade was a baby and we were youth leaders Linda wore my old carharts which had shrunk in the wash. When we took the kids sledding we looked like we just finished a big job laying sewer pipe. Finally Pookie at least bought some legitimate looking snow gear.
The next day we headed to the hills and on the way witnessed the destruction caused by 80 mph wind gusts which were happening as we drove. Also it was raining. Sideways. We met at the grocery store in Sisters and the Beavers, more or less an appropreately named family because they really are are funloving hard working otter type people with a passle of fun loving otter children, always attending, throwing, or otherwise involved in a party of some fashion, made the command decision to not turn back.
Loyd had a truckload of dry firewood so when the caravan arrived we offloaded the children with their sleds and they headed to the top of this hill, that was covered in ice and boobytrapped with huge Ponderosa pine trees. The wind was whipping through there doubling the trees in two. The rain was steady.
Loyd was having a little trouble starting the fire in the rain so my carharts and I made a sheild to stop the wind and he ignited some newspaper and threw it on the wood which was covered with saw gas. Nothing. Since Loyd had wisely brought a gallon of saw gas I went ahead and filled a dixie cup and threw it on the fire. Better, but the wood was getting pretty wet so the fire didnt take off too great. Another dixie cup, from a distance- still nothing.
So Jason Beaver takes the gas can and starts pouring it on the fire and I told him that wasnt such a good Idea and Marcus, a teenager even, told Jason not to do it. But Jason got the fire going and about the time I thought Jason must know something I dont he caught himself on fire. He dropped the can which was flaming from the spout.
Not exactly knowing what to do we began beating on Jason because 1) he was on fire 2) how often do you get to beat on someone who invited you sledding in front of your children. We made sure he was good and out before we quit smacking him.
After we got Jason out I walked up the hill to warn the children about sledding headlong into a pine tree. The wind through the pine trees caused them to pop like bullwips. The rain was still steady. Great, I fugured, the unneasyness I feel is probobly God trying to tell me to get my family out of there before they were crushed by a blow-down. But I turned a deaf ear to God because I didnt want to dissapoint my kids or the Beavers who could have me excommunticated from the party scene.
Meanwhile back at the fire Mark was roasting organic polish weenies over the fire which was blazing and big. Linda and I ate sprouted bread tuna sandwiches to serve as recompence for the feeding frensy from the night before. We had a great time eating, visiting and occasionally thumping on Jason Beaver just in case. The kids slogged down to the fire for chillie dogs and for once in their lives ate like ravenous wolves and asked for seconds.
When the rain had soaked through my wool cap I announced that it was time to go. I dont know who announces these things when Im not around but you wouldnt beleive how quick everyone in the entire campground packs up when I give the word. Its as if nobody wants to be the party pooper. My job is party pooping. Thats what I do do. Ask my kids. I'm the first one to recognise when the funs over. OK funs over! Once I give the word you can bet that in about 10 minutes you'll hear nothing but crickets chirping. Even the Beavers pack up. Its as if they are saying, Someone please, save us from our partying selves. More likely they just have another party to get to.
Year in Review-Drama Queen (and King)
Its already the first week in January and I have yet to do my year in review list. For 2009 I mean. Its already been a whopper.
Heres what happened. My little Gracie had all these teeth hidden way up high in her gums. She kind of has long gums anyway. Charlie can touch his toungue to his nose but I dont think Gracie can on account of her gums being so long. Anyway dentists xrays showed she had teeth way up there under her nose. The oral sergeon said she would have to be put under. We wanted laughing gas but he let on that the sergery would require more than just laughing gas. We didnt really take the hint. Linda told Gracy that she would take her for a milkshake after the appointment. We didnt want to make a big deal out of it. We wanted it to sound fun. It wasnt much fun at all.
After the operation Linda called from the road and said Gracie was having a time. I can usually make my kids stop crying on command if needed. I tell them, get ahold of yourself man! Because I dont want them spiralling out of control. I want them to know that they can be in command of their own selves. I let them cry but enough is enough after the alloted time which I dictate. If they wind down on their own fine. If they wind up and begin braying like donkeys they have to stop. I can only stand so much braying. Especially if I'm driving which I wasnt.
Pookie generally lets them carry on and on and eventually the issue as with many issues turns into some kind of discussion that turns to arguement and before long the children are winning the arguement which Pookie counters with Gettysburg address style explanations to which the children then counter with whinning and soon the entire household is swallowed up in this obnoxios whinefest until I walk in, guns a blazin' style and say, Get ahold of yourselves man! - sometimes getting ahold of them personally untill order is restored. When I leave my wife wipes her brow and says Who was that masked man? And I saunter back off in the sunset blowing on my pointer finger. Gunslinger style.
Anyway I heard Gracie crying in the background but didnt say anything which was a miracle. Its kind of a fog now, I may have told Linda to pass the word that daddy said stop crying or that might have been just a thought and I may have kept my mouth shut.
When they got home Gracie was crying and limp and her mom packed her into the house. Her little sweet face was disfigured from the swelling and her mouth was caked with blood and she was disoriented and a little on the hysterical side. She kept feeling her stitches with her tounge and crying. She looked like she had been in an accident.
I saw the stupid milkshake on the counter- Linda did keep her word on that even amidst all the drama and wailing but still I thought how preposterous , this innocent little kid had to go through this mess because we just took the dentist word for it that she needed the operation and pretended it was no big deal. The doctor is going to jerk out a squadron of baby teeth lodged in your nose real quick and then we'll get a milkshake and go shopping and it will be fun. Right. Probably God was trying to warn me and I turned a deaf ear on him and now my daughter is paying for it. Nice parenting. Moron.
So I went back into the room and layed my face on her little pillow and made all kinds of promises to her that I'm now pretty sure the drug induced disorientation made her forget. I told her daddy will get you anything you want and buy you anything you want and I meant everyword of it. Although at the time I was thinking dollar store which she loves. Pathetic comes to mind. I could tell the crying was even getting to Linda by now but sometimes it is necessary in times like these. Besides I couldnt stop. That, I think, is what finally brought Gracy to her senses- when she saw how upset I was and how much I loved her. The part about me buying her anything she wanted didnt hurt either. I made Charlie come in and watch a movie with us. He was keeping his distance.
We got a little something in her belly, then some pain meds. She slept a little during the movie and wanted her milkshake. Then she wanted to get up and go play wii with Charlie. Then she wanted more milkshake. Then Wade came home and he was extra nice to her and they were pals and played some games on the computer. A little later she was skipping accross the living room to her bedroom - dancing style skipping. Later that night they all played, and argued and whinned and were generally way too loud and obnoxious and spiralling out of controll. Just the way I like it.
Heres what happened. My little Gracie had all these teeth hidden way up high in her gums. She kind of has long gums anyway. Charlie can touch his toungue to his nose but I dont think Gracie can on account of her gums being so long. Anyway dentists xrays showed she had teeth way up there under her nose. The oral sergeon said she would have to be put under. We wanted laughing gas but he let on that the sergery would require more than just laughing gas. We didnt really take the hint. Linda told Gracy that she would take her for a milkshake after the appointment. We didnt want to make a big deal out of it. We wanted it to sound fun. It wasnt much fun at all.
After the operation Linda called from the road and said Gracie was having a time. I can usually make my kids stop crying on command if needed. I tell them, get ahold of yourself man! Because I dont want them spiralling out of control. I want them to know that they can be in command of their own selves. I let them cry but enough is enough after the alloted time which I dictate. If they wind down on their own fine. If they wind up and begin braying like donkeys they have to stop. I can only stand so much braying. Especially if I'm driving which I wasnt.
Pookie generally lets them carry on and on and eventually the issue as with many issues turns into some kind of discussion that turns to arguement and before long the children are winning the arguement which Pookie counters with Gettysburg address style explanations to which the children then counter with whinning and soon the entire household is swallowed up in this obnoxios whinefest until I walk in, guns a blazin' style and say, Get ahold of yourselves man! - sometimes getting ahold of them personally untill order is restored. When I leave my wife wipes her brow and says Who was that masked man? And I saunter back off in the sunset blowing on my pointer finger. Gunslinger style.
Anyway I heard Gracie crying in the background but didnt say anything which was a miracle. Its kind of a fog now, I may have told Linda to pass the word that daddy said stop crying or that might have been just a thought and I may have kept my mouth shut.
When they got home Gracie was crying and limp and her mom packed her into the house. Her little sweet face was disfigured from the swelling and her mouth was caked with blood and she was disoriented and a little on the hysterical side. She kept feeling her stitches with her tounge and crying. She looked like she had been in an accident.
I saw the stupid milkshake on the counter- Linda did keep her word on that even amidst all the drama and wailing but still I thought how preposterous , this innocent little kid had to go through this mess because we just took the dentist word for it that she needed the operation and pretended it was no big deal. The doctor is going to jerk out a squadron of baby teeth lodged in your nose real quick and then we'll get a milkshake and go shopping and it will be fun. Right. Probably God was trying to warn me and I turned a deaf ear on him and now my daughter is paying for it. Nice parenting. Moron.
So I went back into the room and layed my face on her little pillow and made all kinds of promises to her that I'm now pretty sure the drug induced disorientation made her forget. I told her daddy will get you anything you want and buy you anything you want and I meant everyword of it. Although at the time I was thinking dollar store which she loves. Pathetic comes to mind. I could tell the crying was even getting to Linda by now but sometimes it is necessary in times like these. Besides I couldnt stop. That, I think, is what finally brought Gracy to her senses- when she saw how upset I was and how much I loved her. The part about me buying her anything she wanted didnt hurt either. I made Charlie come in and watch a movie with us. He was keeping his distance.
We got a little something in her belly, then some pain meds. She slept a little during the movie and wanted her milkshake. Then she wanted to get up and go play wii with Charlie. Then she wanted more milkshake. Then Wade came home and he was extra nice to her and they were pals and played some games on the computer. A little later she was skipping accross the living room to her bedroom - dancing style skipping. Later that night they all played, and argued and whinned and were generally way too loud and obnoxious and spiralling out of controll. Just the way I like it.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
First Blog
Not really- I have another blog somewhere that has had like 3 visits - all from me.
Its funny. One minute I was trying to post something I wrote 12 years ago - Something I accidently found on Google Doc which I didnt even know I was a part of. Anyway, I followed a rabbit trail and it led me to this blog invitation, so I typed in a few words and before you know it, it asked me what I would like to call my blog. Ive always wanted a webpage called The Timmy. It let me use The Timmy for the name. So presto! I'm a blogger. I also have a chicken named Timmy. The end.
Its funny. One minute I was trying to post something I wrote 12 years ago - Something I accidently found on Google Doc which I didnt even know I was a part of. Anyway, I followed a rabbit trail and it led me to this blog invitation, so I typed in a few words and before you know it, it asked me what I would like to call my blog. Ive always wanted a webpage called The Timmy. It let me use The Timmy for the name. So presto! I'm a blogger. I also have a chicken named Timmy. The end.
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