Where the head goes, the body follows

It's really surprising how long it has taken us to figure out how to teach dogs to walk nicely on a leash. We figured it out with other animals long ago. After all, when we want bulls and horses to pull a plow or a wagon, we put a harness around their necks/chest. When we want them to walk nicely, we guide their heads. As they say, where the head goes, the body will follow...

Basset hounds are notoriously hard to train because the only things they are interested in are food and funny smells to track. (Lack of brains doesn't help much either...) Trying to walk my parent's dog has always required a lot of work because he likes to tear off after every new smell and doesn't mind pulling us so he can follow them. My mum's hands got too sore from fighting him when he would pull, so she had to stop taking him for walks. Thus, every time he goes for a walk with me or my sister he has to be retrained. Annoying. But he loves his walks, so it's extra mean not to take him out. This is a dog that has learned to love his leash almost as much as he loves his marshmallows or table scraps, and will literally sulk and cry if he gets left behind. (It's quite funny to watch actually.)

About a year ago I saw a cousin of mine using a nifty little head collar on her dogs, so I examined her new toy and did a bit of research on my own. Instead of pulling with his neck/chest, a head collar puts the pressure on his nose, pulling it to the side when he tries to lunge forward and messing up his forward momentum. The Gentle Leader looked just about perfect for our problem dog. So, last time Buddy came to stay with me, he got a present. Naturally, almost the very next day I jacked up my ankle, and didn't get to take him on any more walks to get him used to it.

Well, now he's back for another week of babysitting, and seeing as how my ankle is now fine and I am no longer sick, he is getting the royal treatment. Walks at least once a day, sometimes twice (still no table scraps, but he will live). He is really SO funny about it too, because he HATES his new head collar. But, he loves his walks so much that as soon as I pull it out he starts dancing around and practically puts the darn thing on by himself - shoving his nose right into the loop as if to say 'hurry up and figure it out!'

Naturally he struggled a bit at first, trying to get used to the feel of it and trying to figure out why he wasn't in charge of his walk any more. But now... it's almost blissful taking him out. He trots right along beside me, watches to see when I am going to turn... it's like magic. Of course, being a Basset hound, he has to keep his stubborn streak. So three or four times during a walk we stop, and I stand and wait for him while he throws a Basset tantrum, trying fruitlessly to rub the loop off his nose.

Is it mean to laugh so hard when he does that? He just looks so ridiculous that I can't help myself - and now that it is snowy outside he winds up plowing through the drifts trying to rub it off. It looks like he is trying to dig a snow cave. Of course once he's made his opinion perfectly clear, he gets right back in his spot so he can finish his walk. This dog never ceases to make me laugh.

What's next?

In truth, it has been a rather busy decade. Kinda makes you wonder what is in store for the next 10 years...

After all, Hell froze over and Swine Flu, anything could happen next. We could have a woman for President, or I could get married. Who knows??

Yeah. I don't know either. But it will be fun to find out. :)

The gifts of the season

T'was the week after Christmas, I collapsed on the couch
I was groaning and hacking and coughing lungs out.
My family was nestled, all snug in their beds,
While I lay awake, feeling half dead.

With Mum in her nightgown and Da in his mask,
I had just settled down for a Nyquil-blessed nap.
When out from my lungs there arose such a clatter,
I lurched from my death-bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the mirror I stumbled and hacked,
Said “Gahhhh” to a tongue now the color of ash,
Then what in my throbbing sinuses appeared,
But nasal fluids - green rather than clear.

As the pressure then built and pain grew anew,
I knew in that moment, it must be the flu.

I don't know about you, but I find it a bit ironic that I can spend four months working full time at a swine flu infested high school, daily coming into close contact with less than sanitary adolescents, and catch nothing more than a one day sniffle. Yet, I spend a single week with my perfectly healthy family, relaxing and celebrating, and get hit with a flu that has laid me out for nearly two weeks.

Figures.

What makes me laugh is that if I HAD to catch the flu, I caught it at just the right time. I wouldn't have changed a thing. Except perhaps to have come down with it a few days earlier. Having no available subs for work makes the prospect of calling in sick highly stressful for me, so I almost never do it. (I have now accrued 59 sick days at work... what a waste.) So I spent the last full week of my Christmas break vegetating, and recuperating enough to return to work on Monday. This has not been a fun week - basically, I dosed myself through work, came home and crashed everyday. Mostly it went well, but I am rather curious about some of the things I interpreted this week, because I know they didn't come out right. Problem is, I have no idea what did come out. I'm crossing my fingers that if I sleep all weekend, I will be able to purge the remnants of this virus from my system and return to being a normal person again soon. I sure hope so anyhow, because I really need to do my laundry and dishes.

The footprints we leave behind.

I love going for walks in the snow, or on the beach. Not just because it is beautiful, but also because I love being able to stop after a while, and look back, and see where I was. Just by looking, I know what I was doing or thinking about as I took those steps. I love footprints, sometimes I even follow random sets just for fun, trying to imagine whose they are. Where were they going, what were they thinking. Like a shadow of the past, or a memory, you can see so much in such little things... long and short strides, full prints or partial, the size of the foot, the type of shoe... Just by looking you know who was out for a run, what caught someones interest, who was playing and who was in a hurry. There is so much fuel for the imagination in a set of footprints.

This is, of course, the time of year for memories, what with the beginning of a new year, 'Auld Lang Syne,' the traditional resolutions and such. As such, December 31st is the obligatory day for stopping and turning around to find out what kind of tracks we've left in our wake. Some of them have already been blown away, but there are enough left to tell a decent story.

Looking back at this year's path can be a bit confusing, it sprints and stalls, loops around itself and dashes around as if trying to catch a firefly, up and down hills and back and forth. All over the place really...

The logical place to start is with a look at last years resolutions. Looking at them is rather amusing actually. Turns out I only kept one of them (#3 - but I did TWO of those instead of the one I set as a goal). Most of them I worked at, but didn't make it, and then some I simply failed at. Miserably (#7 - I achieved an impressive .25/3). In spite of the overwhelmingly low grade, I liked having the goals in place because it kept me thinking about the things I wanted to do, and kinda forced me to think about them more often instead of ignoring them. So I will be thinking of more tasks to set for myself in the next few days.

The year itself started out with a cousin's wedding, and ended with a bout of (swine?) flu. In between were countless hours at the gym, my Grandmother's funeral, two certification tests, endless hours of scanning old photos, a chilly track season, multiple trips (White Salmon, Costa Rica, Philadelphia, St. George), lots of hikes, a cell phone, a new car, the beginning of a final year of work in this location, an exhilarating and heartbreaking soccer season, a HS tradition called Mr. PHS, tending the parent's basset hound and making lots, and lots of candy for our families caroling tradition. It's been busy to say the least.

Other things 2009 has brought into my life:

In February I started listening to 'This American Life,' now one of my favorite podcasts, up there with 'This I Believe' and 'Science Friday.'

I have developed an actual interest in government and politics this year while interpreting the Govt. class at work (I ditched mine and took some Poly Sci classes at the CC that put me to sleep instead).

The last half of the year had me spending a huge amount of time focused on soccer, and one of the byproducts of this years season was a new love for Real Salt Lake, the nearby MLS Soccer team that wound up winning the MLS Cup this year :) This made me very happy, of course. I have decided that if I end up moving to Utah next year, I am going to buy season tickets.

I haven't done much in the way of cooking this year, but in spite of it I have found some new favorite foods - Havarti cheese is a new favorite either with a sandwich or with kalamata olives on crackers. Lavender flavored chocolate was a new find as well - a double challenge because good chocolate is certainly not something that is easy to find in Idaho. Oh, and Del Monte's fresh grapefruit cups are hugely addicting!

This year introduced some new movies that made me happy: Star Trek, Up, Bella, Where the Wild Things Are, Harry Potter 6, and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (new to me). Needless to say, there are several I haven't had the chance to see yet that would otherwise make the list.

I spent WAY too much money on iTunes this year, but that is because I have some new favorite musicians, the best of them being: Regina Spektor, Lenka, Sia, Meaghan Smith, Ingrid Michelson, Mika, Kate Nash, Michael Franti, Kate Earl, Eisley, and Missy Higgins. Audio books are another weakness... I won't even go there.

And of course, I have managed to find some new books worthy of being included on my main bookshelf instead of hidden away in a back room or stacked along the wall. Three Cups of Tea, Reading Lolita in Tehran, Peace Like a River, Coraline and Ifferisms are among the more memorable.

It's been a good year really. It has had it's ups and downs, but in spite of the meandering back-trail, I think I am (mostly) heading in the right direction. I guess we shall see.

Lets have a 'glurge' free Christmas

Glurge adj. 1. a term specific to snopes.com, coined in 1998. At a loss for words to describe the retching sensation brought on by a then-unnamed category of stories, Patricia Chapin fashioned the word that simultaneously named the genre and described its effect. 2. a body of inspirational tales which conceal much darker meanings than the uplifting moral lessons they purport to offer, undermining their messages by fabrication and distorting historical fact in the guise of "true stories" 3. often contains such heart-tugging elements as sad-eyed puppies, sweet-faced children, angels, dying mothers, and miraculous rescues brought about by prayer 4. likened to chicken soup with several cups of sugar stirred in 5. meant to be inspirational, but comes across as sickeningly sweet and emotionally manipulating.

Go ahead and follow the link above to get some good examples (Auburn, one of your favorites is about 8 stories down). Or, just think of almost any Country song (Christmas Shoes, Concrete Angel, The Little Girl) and you have a picture perfect example of glurge.

Alas, Christmas seems to be the time of year when the production and spread of glurge is at it's peak. These 'inspiring' and 'touching' stories are shared to help us all remember the 'true' meaning of Christmas (and those who are not touched are as cold hearted as Scrooge himself!) By pushing so hard for an emotional response, these stories often rebound - detracting from the message itself by focusing on the sentimentality of the made up situation.

Christmas is a time to celebrate the birth and life of one who did more for us than any other. It is a story that needs no embroidering, no flowery, sentimental ribbons and bows to make it worthwhile and meaningful. Such things detract from the true meaning of Christmas, not add to it. When we glurge Christmas, we put the focus on ourselves and our values, and take Christ out. Trying to produce an emotional high with unnecessary 'glurge' makes it more difficult to appreciate the profound sweetness and depth of the Christmas story. Like a crack addict needing a higher dose to regain that exquisite joy, people turn to more and more glurge trying to chase that emotional rainbow. People learn to associate that saccharine rush of emotion with feelings of spirituality, and start to believe that if they don't feel that same gooey rush, then it isn't meaningful.

In spite of my own participation in some traditions that border on being glurgy, I want to try to refocus on what Christmas is all about. A baby, born a few thousand years ago on a night much like any other night, far away from here. A child who grew to be a man. One who loved us enough to make a sacrifice so great that we cannot truly comprehend it. It is a simple story full of more than enough love. We don't need to add to it in order to make it mean more to us. We simply need to take the time to ponder it, to savor and appreciate it for what it is. A gift of life and love.

Those who teach must never cease to learn.

Working as an interpreter in a High School has brought a great many new adventures and experiences (both good and bad) into my life. For the last four years, one of the things I have been able to participate in as a result of working in a 'suburb' of Happy Valley is release time Seminary. It has been nice to see the other side of the coin. Throughout High School I attended early morning Seminary (6 am!) every morning, and was taught by various church members who had been called to to perform the monumental task of trying to teach and inspire a handful of half-awake teenagers. Tough work for anyone! But even more so because these brave souls received only basic training before starting, and while it required a great deal of study and prep from them, it was not what they did all day, every day as a full time job.

Release time Seminary has been a real eye opener. Other than the obvious difference in mental states (dead/wired) it has been interesting to observe the difference made by having a long term teacher who has received a greater degree of training than the average ward member. The conversations the teachers are able to draw from the kids are just fun to watch, with students who are interested, actively participating, and questioning. It really is very nice to see the teaching methods used, and to enjoy the benefits of learning from those with more experience.

However, the one issue I find myself struggling with is that the students in these classes often view the teachers as not just teachers, but as authorities on all topics. There are a few who notice the errors that slip in, but most unconsciously accept everything they are taught as correct. They don't seem to realize that good people can be misinformed. For the most part, instruction is in line with the Brethren, but once in a while opinions and fallacies slip into the lesson. Things like, "teachers shouldn't give homework because it takes time away from the family," "every government agency is lying to you," "'across the road' (at school) they teach [yadda yadda] but...," "evolution is a vain and foolish doctrine," etc.

I should add that I have the greatest respect for these men. They have all voluntarily taken a job that will never make them rich in order to teach what they love to the youth, because they care so much about them. We have all probably heard talks or lessons in church that leave us shaking our heads, confused or intently reading Something Else (the lesson about depression being a spiritual problem was my favorite.) We all know people with their pet theories. We love them for who they are, and we are pretty good at recognizing things for what they are. My concern is that the youth are often not as adept at recognizing the difference between statements of opinion and fact when voiced by authority figures.

Some things I find myself wishing Seminary teachers would remember...

1. LDS culture and the Church doctrine are not synonymous. They are in fact two entirely different things.

2. Opinions do not equate to truth. The fact that you don't agree with it doesn't mean it is wrong.

3. There are several issues on which the Church has not taken a stand, one way or another. Please don't teach that it has.

4. Just because it is published by Deseret Book, doesn't mean it is the 'be all, and end all.'

5. Other points of view are in fact valid.

6. Broad generalizations may sound good, but they do not prove your point, and may come back to bite you.

In spite of the frustration I feel when interpreting such things, in general they remain the exception rather than the norm. I still believe the Seminary experience to be valuable. It provides an opportunity for students to learn about their religion, and gives them the opportunity to begin forming their own beliefs rather than simply accepting what they have been told.

Of course, in stating all this I am expressing my own opinion, and as such, there is a possibility that it is incorrect or misinformed.

Just sayin'.

Dream the Impossible Dream

In Government the students are beginning their study of the Legislative branch, and as part of that they will be watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I had never seen it before, so I picked it up and watched it this weekend to make sure I was ready for the discussions in class.

As much as I love classic movies, I wonder how could I have missed this classic for so many years? It was practically love at first sight. Besides starring Jimmy Stewart - it is the story of an innocent, idealistic youth leader who is hand picked to be the pawn of corrupt government officials. As his world is shattered around him he remains constant, uncorruptable and a sadder but more determined man. He stands tall, the everyman's David facing down the political Goliath while bombarded from every side, refusing to back down from what he knows to be good and true. "Liberty's too precious a thing to be buried in books. Men should hold it up in front of them every single day of their lives and say: 'I'm free to think and to speak. My ancestors couldn't. I can. And my children will.'"

Even as I chuckle at the inherent cheesiness and the main characters incredible naiveté, I can't help but be touched - because as pragmatic as I am - I am an idealist at heart. I know the world is full of greed and corruption, but that doesn't mean we can't give our all to make something better.

So many of my hero's are those who knew that one plain simple rule, love thy neighbor - Mother Theresa, Corrie Ten Boom, Gandhi, Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King, Greg Mortenson, Nelson Mandela, Joan of Arc, Winston Churchill, Frederick Douglass, Desmond Tutu, Chief Joseph, Abraham Lincoln, Rosa Parks, Albert Schweitzer... the list just keeps going.

Call them naive, foolish, blind, or whatever else you like. Like Don Quixote, they tilted with the worlds' windmills. And they brought down giants. They were fighting for those lost causes. They are the ones worth fighting for, even dying for. "Fighting for something better than just jungle law, fighting so's he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created, no matter what his race, color, or creed. There's no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties."