Hot Tamales

It's warm out, though not as warm as yesterday and the day before. Still, standing on our neighbor's porch making tamales was sweaty business!

This Summer I Went Swimming

My parents tell me that when I was a kid, I took to the water like a fish. I'd leap off the side of the pool and into someone's waiting arms so repetitively, they grew tired before I did. It's no wonder then, that our son (read DOG) likes to do the same thing -- swim, leap, and splash.

And it's no wonder that one of my favorite songs is called the Swimming Song:

"This summer I went swimming, this summer I almost drown
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around, moved my arms around"
(best version sung by Kate and Anna McGarrigle, but written by Loudon Wainwright)

Yesterday was hot and now that my life is spent primarily outside (as a dog walker) and I am approaching my menopause years, I get hot in the sweltering heat. For instance, yesterday was not only a full day of dog walking (8 dogs in total), but it was our first 80 degree day. While those who live in Phoenix may laugh at 80 degrees, for those of us in the PNW 80 degrees is record breaking heat. And since it was the first day of such heat, no one was prepared for it. Remember, we are the people who rejoice when it's 60 and bask in the "heat" of such a day by wearing shorts.

So, when I began the walk with my last set of dogs, my destination was the lake even though I knew that the lake was at the bottom of a very, very big hill. Going down to the water wasn't a problem for any of us, but going back up was quite a climb. Even the dogs had to stop in the shade and catch their breaths.

Lucky for them, though, they'd gotten into the lake (I did not) so they were quite a bit cooler than I when we made the climb back up. I was beat red and drenched in sweat by the time we arrived and even the air conditioning in the car couldn't cool me off fast enough.

I had to laugh yesterday when Rubin, Monty, and I got into that warm car. I blasted the air conditioning while Rubin and Monty jockeyed for the perfect position, which for them is right between the two front seats since that's where the cool air is felt the best. Like an old married couple both sweaty and hot, Monty would push his larger body into Rubin's trying to get him to move over and Rubin would growl as if to say, "Don't touch me, I'm hot!" Once they got their positions settled, they sat sphinx-like side-by-side with their tongues long and panting. It was quite a sight.

So when Ann got home shortly after our last walk, I asked if we could go to our friend's house for a swim. "Great idea!" Ann agreed and we piled the dogs (yes, Monty was still with us) into the car and drove straight to the pool. I wore my wetsuit because the pool is unheated and we haven't had enough warm days to really heat up the pool, but I was pleasantly surprised when I jumped in the pool and felt refreshed.

Monty and Rubin were, too. They both donned their own "wetsuits" and I helped Monty swim since he struggles as a swimmer and also has a sore front leg. (This was not only a refreshing break, but a therapeutic one as well.)

While Monty practiced his crawl stroke, Rubin swam around and around thrilled to be in a cool pool and with his best friend.

Thanks mom and dad for spending all that time with me years ago while I perfected my addiction to water. I'm sure I tested your patience.

"This summer I swam in the ocean,
And I swam in a swimming pool,
Salt my wounds, chlorine my eyes,
I'm a self-destructive fool, a self-destructive fool.

This summer I swam in a public place
And a reservoir, to boot,
At the latter I was informal,
At the former I wore my suit, I wore my swimming suit.

This summer I did the backstroke
And you know that's not all
I did the breast stroke and the butterfly
And the old Australian crawl, the old Australian crawl.

This summer I did swan dives
And jackknifes for you all
And once when you weren't looking
I did a cannonball, I did a cannonball.

This summer I went swimming,
This summer I almost drown
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around,
Moved my arms around."

Scheduling

When I first began teaching, seasoned veterans of the profession told me that my success depended on being organized. I've always seen myself as a scattered person, so I've never felt that organization was my strong suit. Then I got to meet people (teachers among them) who were extremely unorganized and I realized I was pretty good at it.

Pretty good, not great.

Pretty good, meaning not my mother. Of course, when one has the high standard set by one's mother then one will never see themselves as organized.

But this is beside the point. Now that I own my own business, my "pretty good" organizational skills come in handy. Right now, for instance, I have sticky notes on my computer telling me when to walk which dog, right down to the last minute. If I don't do this, I wake up early in the morning worrying about timing.

Today is not as packed as tomorrow, but today I have an afternoon interview and then Rubin's agility class 45 minutes out of town. Those solid and scheduled appointments remove any flexibility in the day. Luckily, there are only 5 dogs to walk today. Tomorrow there are 8, but I have no afternoon commitments so my time is a bit more flexible.

This matters to no one but me (and Rubin, of course) though it obviously matters to me a lot. My free time -- time when I'm not expected to be somewhere walking one dog or another -- isn't really free at all. I must keep up with billing, since I blog about the dogs every day, I must keep up the blogging, and since I take photos of the dogs every day, I must catalog and sort the photos at least once a week. This takes time and right now I'm feeling pinched for time.

No, let me rephrase that: I'm feeling what I always feel when it comes to organizing my time -- I'm feeling as if my priorities are all wrong. My mornings are spent with this internal dialogue -- should I do this first or this? Should I read the newspaper or get right to work transcribing interviews? Is there time for a Sudoku puzzle or should I really organize photos?

At 4 this morning I woke thinking, "I need to pay bills" and after the shock of remembering, I tossed and turned for an hour thinking of all the things I need to do in addition to paying the bills. "This is ridiculous," I told my sleepy, worried self. "You'll get it all done, you always do. Sleep. You need sleep."

Eventually I fell back to sleep and first thing this morning, I paid the bills, organized my invoices, cataloged my photos, and re-considered my walking schedule so I might be more efficient with the car. Oh yeah, and wrote a check for the agility class tonight.

Of course now that I've listed all of that out, more things have popped into my head: Get the walking gear together -- I won't need rain gear, but I need two extra leashes. Replenish the poop bags in my backpack. Put the photo card back in the camera. Get a new video tape, too for the interview this afternoon. Get everything ready to go for agility class like special treats to really motivate Rubin.

When will I have lunch? Better make a sandwich to nibble on in the car in between dog walking.

See? I'm pretty good at organizing, but that Ferris wheel of spinning details keeps turning and sometimes, sometimes I want to get off. I woke this morning thinking it was Saturday and then realized that no, it was only Thursday. Can't really get off the Ferris wheel until then...but even then, I've already got a list going -- reorganize the pantry, wash the windows, buy a new fridge (Ann's idea) which means cleaning out the old fridge, make an appointment to service the car and the scooter, clean the house, pick up some more pet food and treats...blah, blah, blah.

I wonder what unorganized people think about?

Arnold's eyebrows

I read the newspaper online this morning and was presented with a photograph of Arnold the Terminator Governor's face. He dyes his hair apparently because his eyebrows were not even close to the color of his hair and each eyebrow was speckled with gray.

Hmmm. Curious. While his State is living in catastrophic debt, I doubt he is suffering financially. Has his house been foreclosed? Has his credit card raised his interest rates? Is he stuck at home on a "Stay-cation?"

I think not.

So, can't he afford an image specialist who can advise a different course of action - don't dye your hair at all so your eyebrows and your hair color actually look like they came from the same head or if you're going to dye your hair, let's dab a little on your eyebrows.

Apparently not.

This is trivial, I know. There are so many other things going on around the world that I waste precious time focusing on Arnold's grooming. Hell, there are so many other things going on in my life the amount of wasted time feels monumental.

But sometimes I don't want to focus on anything truly important or meaningful. Sometimes that feels like a waste of my time. Like this morning, when I tossed and turned at 5 unable to sleep. Too much to think about followed by a hot flash that not only raised my body temperature, but also fueled my worries. Or last night, after my sister called and Ann asked me what she had to say. "Where do I begin?" was my response. It was too much, simply too much to retell.

There is a lot of walking I must do today. Six dogs are on the schedule including two new dogs who do everything but walk. A Basset Hound and Beagle, they are all about their noses and so it's walk a few steps and then throw nose to the ground for a good five minutes. I'm going to take Rubin with me in hopes that they will want to smell him enough that as he moves, they'll move. We'll see.

I have an interview this afternoon for an article I'm writing followed by a much needed haircut. I have turned into Elvis with my hair poofed up on my head like an evangelist. "The taller the hair, the closer to God," my stylist always jokes.

These are the things I want to think about -- which dog to walk first, who to walk with whom, the interview, my haircut, dinner, and yes, Arnold's weird eyebrows. I want them to push out the things I don't want to think about -- mainly my sister's needs and her inability to tell me something only once, not seven times in a given hour.

Clear my mind, clear my mind. Breathe and breathe and breathe. Focus on the eyebrows. Focus.

The Art of Exercise

I walk a dog named Gerta. I was hesitant to walk her because she is part pit bull and with all the bad press, I didn't want to take my chances. Meeting her helped calmed my reservations a bit especially when she licked my hand and rolled over on her belly within the first minute, but for the first few weeks of walking her I didn't do much out of her normal routine. We walked through her neighborhood just the two of us -- no other dogs allowed.

The more I got to know Gerta, the more I realized my fears were unfounded. She's very sweet, though she has a habit of being very destructive. When I arrive at her apartment, there is usually a mess scattered about and not of the owners making. Gerta gets into things. Boxes, garbage, and her current favorite -- leather boots. The other day I arrived to three pairs of boots tossed about on the couch with huge chunks ripped out.

I am not Gerta's full-time dog walker. I am simply helping out the regular guy who is out of town for the next few weeks. How much should I get involved? Well, this is my problem: I could care less about the owners. My sole concern is the dog.

So here is a dog -- a sweet and wonderful dog -- who is obviously bored silly. Or should I say, bored into destruction. I walk her for only a half hour, but she needs more. Lots more. I kept counting the weeks until my temporary job of walking Gerta would be over and I could pass her back to her permanent dog walker, but when I saw the boots and the obvious boredom, I stepped in.

This is what makes me a bad business owner. I'm walking Gerta for about 45 minutes each time though I'm paid for 30, I've strapped on a weighted pack to her strong back, and yesterday I introduced her to my own dog, Rubin.

Rubin is funny when he first meets dogs. He hates it when they come at him to smell his face and ears or his butt. He backs away and gives a little growl as if to say, "I hardly know you! Back off!"

Once we get to walking, he's perfectly fine and his aloof nature comes in handy. He ignores the other dog, which in the case of some dogs, is perfect. Teabiscuit for instance. (Yes, that's the name of another dog I walk.) She's scared of her own shadow and another dog is trauma to the nth degree. When she met Rubin she raced to the end of her leash back towards home, but after a few walks together, Teabiscuit keeps a wary distance from Rubin though will occasionally walk beside him. Now in fact, when other large dogs approach (and all dogs are large compared to teeny weeny Biscuit), she hides behind Rubin for protection. Rubin's aloofness makes Teabiscuit feel more comfortable.

It doesn't have the same effect on Gerta. Gerta wants to play and Rubin, since he has yet to really know her, does not. But once they are walking together, once we're all moving forward, well Rubin's disinterest calms Gerta down. Combined with the weighted backpack, we successfully tired her out yesterday. 15 minutes into the walk she was panting and by the time we got back to her apartment, she was ready for a long nap on the couch.

This is the art of exercise. I don't care about all the disagreements people/trainers have with Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, he has done a great job focusing America's attention on exercise. His phrase -- Exercise, Discipline, then Affection -- are words for dog owners to live by. Even the other TV personality -- Victoria Stillwell of It's Me or the Dog -- stresses the importance of exercise.

Still, so many people don't get it. They keep their dogs in their backyards and feel as if that's enough. It's not. For Gerta, who doesn't have a backyard, the apartment is a house of boredom. Her owners run her in the morning and take her to the dog park in the evening, but she spends long hours alone during the day. She's smart and strong and you can bet a leather boot looks interesting.

If I were a good business owner, I'd pressure the owners to hire me for an hour instead of half an hour, but Gerta is a temporary client and I'm not the kind of person to push an issue. Instead, I walk Gerta for a longer time and don't charge for it, I bring a pack to weight her down, and I try to offer her stimulation she normally wouldn't have -- like walking with other dogs or hiding homemade dog cookies in her puzzle toy.

Gerta's owners are good people and they are doing what they can to help her out. They didn't seem the least bit upset about the torn leather boots and are appreciative of the extra attention I'm paying to Gerta. They clearly love their dog. I also know that people can't give their dogs 4 hours of exercise a day (often what Rubin gets since he is a dog dog walker...though Rubin still has issues), but if I had one wish granted in this world it would be that every dog in the US (the world?) could be exercised regularly. Imagine what an impact that would have on humans as well?

Today is another busy day. I'm tired and glad it's Friday. Rubin's tired too, but the day is scheduled with 5 dogs and a few errands. Rubin will accompany me on most of it, but not all. He needs his rest, too. Certainly, he'll walk with Gerta again today though I think I'll give Teabiscuit a break and just walk her alone. She'll like that.

Thankfully it's sunny today and I'm looking forward to walking in the warmth instead of the cold and rain of late. I, too, need the exercise.

Painting Myself Into A Corner

I have submitted my 2 week notice to my retail job. I do this with a bit of trepidation. First, the summer months will be financially lean as I will be solely dependent on my dog walking business. Next, I worry about my choice to quit which was precipitated by an offer to return to my teaching job (part time, not full time). Finally, I will have a lot more time on my hands -- something that makes me a tad bit nervous.

Dog walking is going well. It is a job that ebbs and flows. I have some steady clients (about 6 dogs a week) and then I have additions -- covering for another dog walker, for instance, or walking dogs for people who are in a temporary need. The additions are not permanent though there is always a chance they may well be. I'd love to have more permanent clients, but with the economy being what it is, hiring a dog walker has moved down the list of priorities for most people.

My freelance writing job will end after the next newsletter due June 1 and that will fold into my return to teaching beginning in September. I am excited about the chance to continue writing for the school, but I'm a bit nervous about my return as a part-time teacher. On the one hand it will be a great way to practice maintaining my boundaries, but on the other hand, it will no doubt tap into my quirky perfectionism -- the need to make every lesson plan and assignment meaningful.

After four hours of retail work last night, I couldn't sleep. My body aches after a shift and so I tossed and turned and my brain shifted into worried thinking. I spent a good part of the morning trying to put my finger on the core of my worry and the best I could come up with is that feeling of not knowing what will come next.

After 22 years of teaching, I decided to leave because I knew EXACTLY what was going to come next and none of it felt new or different or motivating. Now I'm on the other side of the feeling. I should be excited and in many ways I am, but I am also nervous. At the center of my nervousness is the need NOT to get stuck in the predictability of my career or, as the title of this blog suggest, not to paint myself into a corner.

And there, perhaps, is the prickly conundrum I'm feeling: I want the possibility of the future to outweigh the uncertainty of the future. I want that edgy feeling of having to make my own way in the world, but not the nervous anxiety of not knowing which way to head. The greatest difference between my life as a full-time teacher and my life now as a small business owner is that most of my work today revolves around making more work. As a teacher, most of my work was wading through mountains of work, most of which was not generated by me. It came from all the expectations outside my classroom -- the meetings, the committees, the institutional desires to document and explain and justify.

Each side of this dilemma has benefits. There is as much comfort in predictability as there is frustration and disappointment. Equally, there is as much thrill in making my own was as there is worry and anxiety. The cliche of one day at a time has some weight in this dilemma. I find myself saying, "Today is good. I have what I need. I'm doing good work. I am happy and content."

To live inside that moment with a bit more permanence is the dance I find myself doing of late. I suppose I should trust my history -- the more I am open to possibility, the more possibilities open up for me.

Meanwhile, there is rain again today. If it weren't for the leaves on the trees and the slightly warmer temperatures, it would feel like November. They say it will dry up soon and I'm looking forward to that. I'm looking forward to a lot of things of late, but walking dogs in the sun feels like a small comfort on which to begin.