Online Comics

I know people who start their day with meditation or prayer. I know people who write in their journals or read inspirational books first thing in the morning. I too have my morning ritual. I read online comics. Now I admit that might not sound as life-enhancing or meaningful as what other people do, but considering the state of the world, I think it is important for me to see a lighter side of life before I am confronted by reality.

Before the rise of the internet and the subsequent fall of the newspaper, I was an avid news comic reading fan. There were times in my life that the only reason I subscribed to a newspaper was for the comics. I am probably not alone in this. Who needs to know about the events of the day when we can keep up to date with Beetle Bailey. (Okay, that was just to make you squirm - I was not a fan of Beetle Bailey as an adult. Not that I wouldn't check it out in the paper, but 365 days in a row of 'not funny' strips tend to put me off of a comic.)

My comic reading began as it does for most of us as a child looking at the Sunday funnies. My sister and I would divide the funny papers up because there was no way we would consider reading them together. That kind of close togetherness was something we avoided and when forced upon us often resulted in a fight. She and I had 'differences of opinion' - or more accurately she felt I had less refined tastes ("You're a moron for liking that!") while I felt she had less intelligent tastes (No, you're a moron because you don't get it!). Expressing this type of disagreement might result in our parents removing the sacred Sunday funnies from our grasp, so we came upon a solution we could live with. We would each take a section and then trade when we were done. Not that dividing up the funnies didn't also have its drama but we could usually resolve that without shouting.  

I had some favorites when I was a child such as Charlie Brown but I read every one of them except for the soap opera ones that my mother liked. One of the best for me was the comic strip B.C. by Johnny Hart. This was later dramatically enforced when I came across a paperback of his comic strips on the rotating book stand in the local TG&Y store. This was in 1969. I had not known that the comic strips I loved appeared in anything except the Sunday comics, but here it was, a whole bunch of them together in one book. I purchased that book and every other one I found after that. Strangely enough, this collection allowed me to observe the maturation of my brain. In each of the books, there would be one or two comics that I could not understand. This was due to the sometimes 'adult' nature of these comics, which for that day and age meant slightly sexual overtones masked with extreme subtlety. I developed a habit of reading and re-reading these paperbacks because, first of all, I loved them, and second, we only went to TG&Y infrequently and my allowance would only stretch so far. Thus as I amassed my collection and re-read each book, eventually the subtle nuances of some of the comics became clear to me. I can remember the distinct joy of finally 'getting' a strip that had eluded me for years. (I was careful to never share these revelations with my sister given how I was always telling her she 'didn't get it').

Thus I began a collection of comic strip paperbacks that included mostly B.C and Wizard of Id. Occasionally I would get other comics, but I became obsessed with collecting all of what Johnny Hart had made. This became easier when my family began visiting used book stores. The first B.C. book had been printed in 1959 which meant I had seven of these earlier editions to find. Cheap paperback books over ten years old are not the easiest thing to find. But with determination, eventually, I had his entire collection and added to it each year as he created more. Now, before you think I have amassed some valuable collection I must confess that many of the earlier editions I found were in much less than prime condition, and a couple without the front cover ( I detested the bookseller who decided that the way for him to distinguish a certain quality of books that he would not buy back was to rip off the front cover). I did my best to take care of my collection, but when you are starting with many poorly used versions you can only do so much. To this day my collection sits in plastic sleeves stored in a plastic bin - a bin which I packed with me both times we evacuated from two hurricanes (You can take my house nature - but you are not getting my B.C. collection!)

I guess it was that collection that led me on a quest that continues to this day. When I find a comic strip I like, I get their paperback collections. I don't just get one or two, I usually persist until I have them all. Sometimes my tastes change or perhaps it is that the comic strip creator's creation changes and I stop reading them and stop collecting the books, but there are a few that I have a decade or more of their collections.

Now, as I first mentioned, the rise of the internet and the decline of the newspaper has changed the way I view comics. I now have access to every comic strip created via various websites. What is more, I have found some comics whose sole existence is online. I have all of these bookmarked and I pull them up in a particular order of preference. The following are some of my morning comic feeds.

 Dilbert

- satirical office humor
Creator - Scott Adams

This comic starts off my morning and is the only one I allow to send me its strip via email. Every morning I get to view Dilbert's antics before any other news assaults my brain. Dilbert and I go way back into my days of working in a cubicle for Xerox corporation. I started my career with Xerox in 1985 and Scott Adams published his first strip in 1989. He was a genius in his portrayal of the office environment I was afflicted with. Although my career with Xerox only spanned six years I must have suffered some sort of office-based PTSD because to this day I can empathize with the situations portrayed in his strip. I have all of his comics in book form and even some non-comic strip books he has written. Dilbert's Website

Pros: Great, current, and sometimes hilarious office humor. Scott Adams wit continues to be sharp throughout his lengthy career.

Cons: If you have not worked in an office you may not appreciate or get some of his jokes. Occasionally he goes off on less funny tangents. If you are looking for incredible artwork, keep looking.

Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: Dilbert's funny average is about 7.5 out of 10 strips. Some weeks he is 10 for 10.

Get Fuzzy

- the adventure of Rob Wilco, Bucky Katt and Satchel Pooch
Creator: Darby Conley

I can still remember the first time I saw this comic strip. The character named Rob was sitting on the couch watching TV with the dog named Satchel. He says, "You know you can't turn me off with that." The next frame shows Bucky the cat holding the TV remote and shouting, "Then mute, mute, mute!" I knew upon seeing that I had found comic strip gold. This was back in 1999 and he published his first collection in 2001 which I quickly snatched up. It is interesting watching a comic strip from its inception because it changes slowly but surely through the years. Darby has always had the most incredibly intricate and realistic artwork which is fascinating in itself. The style of his characters has slowly developed through the years and although I love the look, I also loved the original look of the characters. He partners his artwork with some great jokes and visual humor. Sometimes this comic will have a long patch of less than laugh-out-loud strips or venture off into strange alternate characters. I figure this is the ultimate fate of any comic that has a long duration. The creator is bound to have times when he struggles to create with the same freshness of his original strips. He always bounces back though and delivers solidly great humor.
Get Fuzzy at GoComics.com

Pros: Excellent characters and artwork.  Consistently funny themes and stories that may last for weeks.
Cons: Occasional dry spells or awkward storylines.  
Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: Averages funny 7 out of 10 strips but when he is on, he is on and can rate an 11 out of ten with some of his humor.

One Big Happy

 

- humorous observations about a child and her family
Creator:  Rick Detorie

I ran across this comic in the newspaper and found his portrayal of Ruthie the little girl and her family to be a humorous portrayal of family life in an idealistic setting. The portrayal of Ruthie reminds me of the character Ramona from the Beverly Cleary books. I want there to be a family like Ruthie's with her calm and reasonable parents, next door Grandparents, and various other friends and family members. I liked it so well I bought a collection. As is my style I then proceeded to purchase another of Rick Detorie's collections, but I always had trouble finding his work in the stores. I eventually purchased every collection that had been made and noticed there had been some time between the last one and the current date. In a very unlike-me moment I left an email for the author letting him know how much I liked his work and how I was looking forward to his next published collection. Surprisingly Rick answered me back himself and thanked me for my kind words but told me that there would not be any more collections. His publisher did not think there was a market for them. I think his publisher is nuts because this comic strip is well-drawn, humorous, and empathetic to families. At least I can see the daily strips, but I long for a collection.
One Big Happy at Creators.com

Pros: Great portrayal of family life and life through the eyes of a spirited little girl.
Cons: The only one I can think of is that there are not more published collections
Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: Averages funny 6 to 7 out of 10 strips.

XKCD

- science and computer geek based humor
Creator:  Randall Munroe

I ran across this online comic when it was mentioned in the comments section of a news feed I read. I was captivated by its scientific wit. This strip is published on Mon., Wed., and Fri so when I am on a day where there is no new content I click on random and see one of the many strips created before I began visiting the site. I have to admit that sometimes I don't get this comic because I don't have enough math, physics, or scientific background. Sometimes I will have to Google something in the comic to 'get it'. I think it took me about two weeks before I noticed there was an extra punchline when you scrolled over the comic.
XKCD website

Pros: Genuinely thought-provoking and humorous with a scientific/math/physics leaning.
Cons: If you don't like scientific/math/physics topics you will probably not 'get' this comic.
Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: A surprising 8 out of 10 funny strips.  Sometimes the strips are not supposed to be 'funny' but rather thought-provoking.  There have been very few times when I thought this strip was not interesting.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal

- a geek comic, with a broad range of topics, such as love, relationships, economics, politics, religion, science, and philosophy.
Creator: Zach Weiner

Another online comic I found in my quest for internet comic enlightenment. This one has some great science and philosophy-based content. It is definitely an adult comic - not that it has any overtly naked or sexually explicit stuff, but it does have sexual themes from time to time. It also will go after practically any topic with ruthless abandon which probably could be offensive if you held strong views on the topic at hand. In a lot of ways this comic reminds me of XKCD only, it has color and doesn't have as much 'math' and its themes tend to pack a little more 'punch'. SMBC website

Pros: Thought-provoking and funny.

Cons: Thought-provoking and sometimes makes me cringe.  
Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: About 7 funny per 10 strips.

Home Office (formerly Stay at Home Dad)

- the antics of a home office father and his family
Creator: Michael Wright


This is a relatively new comic for me that I found when I was looking for all my other comics from the newspapers.  I found an online comic collection site and this one was recommended because of another comic strip I liked.  This strip has a lot going for it.  The artwork is eye-catching and stands out.  The strips though simply drawn convey a lot.  I have been enjoying the humor since I too have a home office, although I am not a consultant like the main character Bob.  This strip marks the second time I have contacted a strip creator.  This happened because I noticed that the strip was not being published with consistent frequency.  The strip also had a huge caution sign above it stating something like "read at your own risk" because the online comic collection providers did not read the strip so they were not sanitizing it for our safety.  So I did something that was once again out of character for me.  I sent an email to the author expressing my enjoyment of his work and hoping there was not some calamity befalling him that was keeping him from providing me with daily doses of humor.  I was surprised to receive a personal email from Michael Wright who said there had been no calamity, just another project he was working on.  That is when I found out he had written a few children's books.  Being who I am I ordered those and let me tell you - superb artwork, cute story lines, and great rhymes.  You can find his 'Jake' series of children's books here: http://michaelwrightland.com/  ( He really needs better marketing because believe me - if you were to try and find his work by yourself without my help - you might give up trying)

Home Office at Creators.com

Pros: Funny situations and great drawing.

Cons: Intermittent new stuff. 

Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: Funny 6 - 7 out of 10 strips.

 Pearls Before Swine

- chronicle of the daily lives of anthropomorphic animals
Creator: Stephan Pastis


I was late to the party in reading this comic.  Interestingly the first few times I tried to read it I found it off-putting and I didn't 'get it'.  This may well have been because the storyline of the strip can sometimes be hard to follow if you don't catch it at the first installment.  The characters are charmingly rude to one another, especially Rat to Pig.  The fact that Stephan used to be a lawyer might have something to do with the brusque behavior of the characters but probably is more due to Mr. Pastis' bend toward the dark side of humor.  I have begun acquiring his comics and discovered something wonderful.  His comic collection treasuries, which are two of the comic collections put together, have author notes which are not found in the single collections.  In his notes, Stephan gives insight into what went into creating the strip and sometimes how he had to self censor the strip for it to be published.  I wish all comic strip creators would do this with their treasuries.  If they did I would probably get them despite already owning the single collections - because that is just how weird and obsessed of a comic fan I am. Pearls Before Swine at GoComics.com

Pros: Funny, dark, humor
Cons: Not going to win awards for artistic skills.

Funny versus Unfunny strip ratio: A solid funny 8 out of 10 strips.

Well, that is probably enough for now.   This is just a partial list of the comics I find most interesting.  It is nice to start my day with them.

Sibling Rivalry

Anyone who is a sibling has probably experienced this to some degree.  Your brother/sister is in competition with you to get all the good things that your parents and life has to offer.  This can lead to stressful encounters and in some cases I have read about in the news, lawsuits and worse yet, homicide.  Luckily for my sister and I it never devolved into anything more than a few physical scuffles, name calling and tears.  The physical scuffles were confined to our very early childhood (meaning that she being almost three years older than me and therefore much bigger did not hesitate to use her physical advantage in conflicts before she reached the 'age of reason' - also known as comprehending that 'parents will punish you if you slug your sister') and we weren't allowed to use course language, so the name calling was typically made up words that sounded bad (she once called me a 'sclurge' which did not infuriate me as much as the fact that she would not tell me what that word meant).  Eventually we learned to ignore one another in spectacularly spiteful ways (sticks and stones are nothing compared to the pain of a sister's cold shoulder).  Finally we grew up and no longer needed the sibling rivalry, but it served it purpose to harden us appropriately to the travails of the common workplace.

I had forgotten about sibling rivalry for the most part until recently in having to watch it develop in my own little fur children.  I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone to learn that my dogs are jealous of one another.  It is not just a same species thing either.  My dogs and my cats are jealous of one another and seek to one up each other all the time.  One of my cats, the smallest of the bunch, will saunter into the house when we open the front door and proceed to nonchalantly wander over to the closest dog and rub up against them, all the while looking up at me and purring.  The dogs are quite taken aback, but also powerless to do what they really want to do which is nip that cat and make her run.  She knows they will be chastised if they are even slightly rough with her.  She also knows that if I was not present she would not be able to get away with this kind of behavior, so she really pours it on thick - headbutting and purring and pushing into them until they give ground to her.  She is willing to chase them all over the house like this, but I recognize it for what it is and keep her from bullying them too much.

The biggest sibling interaction problem I have is with the dogs.  It seemed to begin from the moment we brought little Trudy our Border Collie home.  Lewey, the Westie was convinced that we had actually brought in some sort of vermin and he was going to do us a favor and dispatch it post-haste.  It took several days of him biting the puppy barrier and being told NO! before he realized he was not going to be allowed to kill and eat the puppy.

Our cat Dorie, Trudy at 7 weeks and Lewey, who still thinks puppy should be on the menu.

He eventually realized how great it was to have a puppy to play with and for a little while things were quite nice in Lewey land.

He didn't mind so much when she grabbed him by the face because after all, she was very small.

He even let her sometimes pin him down and it was all great fun because after all, if he really wanted to...

He could show her who was boss.

King Lewey as a happy Alpha-male, top dog of the world

Then the sky fell, or more accurately, growth hormone began to surge through little Trudy and she did not remain the little thing she was.  She became She-Ra - Princess of Power practically overnight.  At first, King Lewey was merely annoyed.  He couldn't actually figure out what the problem was and how he had gone from being bigger than Trudy to being smaller than her.  The only way to resolve this was to challenge her.

You can almost hear the western gunfight background music...

The only problem was that Trudy was sneaky.

She refused to fight fair and become small again.  She even went as far as to flaunt her size...

and bite his neck...

... and even put her paws on him and stood over the top of him.


This all made Trudy very happy.

Princess Trudy contemplating how to annoy Lewey further

It also made Lewey something other than happy...

Well, at least he is in the shade...

We keep telling Lewey that eventually Trudy will grow up and stop being such a bully.  Believe me we do our best to keep the peace between the two of them, but sometimes Lewey decides to take matters into his own paws.

This is all very humorous until one of us humans gets caught in the crossfire.  I have been nipped by Lewey as he was trying to repay Trudy for bowling him over in the back yard and knocking him into the fig tree.  I had witnessed the encounter and had Lewey beneath my feet to defend him as Trudy was making whirling passes around the yard completely oblivious to my commands.  As she came near I reached out to push her away at exactly the same time Lewey leaped forward to exact his revenge.  He caught me with his little middle teeth so hard it left a quarter size bruise on my forearm - mind you he did this through my long sleeve shirt (he was very, very sorry afterward and looked completely embarrassed).

Just last night I was doing my best to dry the dynamic duo off after they had been out in a very welcome and unusual rain storm.  I had them blocked into the washroom and had dried them both fairly well but I wanted to check and make sure their feet were clean.  My intention was to finish with Lewey first and then let him go into the house while I worked on Trudy.  She decided as I bent down to finish little Lewey's legs that she was through waiting.  She proceeded to leap over both of us, but failed to calculate that I was in motion toward the floor.  Her shoulder caught me in the side of the jaw and I saw stars.  Luckily my jaw was merely bruised instead of broken (she was not sorry in the slightest for bumping into me and in fact wondered why I was yelling).

So yes we all have our work cut out for us.  Lewey has to somehow re-establish his kingship.  Trudy must learn to be a calm and considerate princess.  I must learn to stop getting in the way of dogs in motion.

Product Reviews

I was asked to write a review on some vitamins that I purchased and instead of ignoring the request I actually went online and wrote my reviews.  It turned out to be much more fun than I initially anticipated when I realized that 1. I have opinions, 2. Someone at some point was going to read the review and they might appreciate something slightly out of the ordinary, and 3. Humor is not forbidden in the review -in fact, I could put practically anything I wanted in the review as long as I kept it 'clean'.

So, after getting my feet wet with the vitamin reviews I have decided to review other things.  Not mind you that anyone has asked me to review these things, but hey, this information needs to be shared.  How else will you find out about:

The Atlanta Georgia Airport

I would have to give this airport three and a half out of five stars.  Now mind you I truly appreciate the fact that the airplane did not crash, but let's face it.  That was primarily due to the talent of the pilot, although I do concede the whole runway necessary for landing issue.  Actually it is possible my pilot could have landed us in a field for all I know.  He sounded quite competent as he addressed us with his southern drawl periodically throughout the flight.  The flight being totally uneventful in the way of emergency landings means we will never know his capacity in this regard and quite frankly I am happy to keep it that way.

The reason the Atlanta Georgia Airport does not get five stars is because they failed to tell us that we needed to get on the shuttle in order to avoid walking the approximate 1.4 miles to get to baggage claim.  Others might point out the availability of the shuttle as we first exited the plane and the eagerness of our fellow passengers to embark on the shuttle journey, but there was no actual sign saying "Hey, if you don't get on the shuttle you are going to be walking a long, long, long way".  Nope nothing like that.  There were many opportunities for such a sign to exist as well as we hiked from terminal E to D (bypassing another shuttle entry point) on to C, B and A, each with their own shuttle access.  No we didn't get on the shuttle until it seemed we could not walk any further and then we got on the shuttle and it ran for about 10 seconds before depositing us at the end of the line for Baggage Claim approximately 20 feet from where we entered it.  So that dropped this review by a whole point.

The other half point dropped away when we actually entered the long sought Baggage Claim and there were more than a dozen carousels, each with a vast display of flights associated with them, but all of them positioned in a way that you had trouble reading them from a distance.  I am sure the big sign board with all the flights listed should have helped us figure which carousel was ours, but this airport did not list our flight the way our tickets had listed it.  This meant we had to walk down to a helpful person who patiently showed us how the airport worked.  He gets five stars because I am sure helping exhausted people who cannot read a huge sign board might become old after the ninetieth time you have done it, but he seemed genuinely supportive of our quest to retrieve our luggage.

So overall, a good score but slightly less than perfect.  I am sure based on this review they will get right on these issues.


Computer Tablets

Okay, this might be a preemptive review since I have not actually purchased one yet, but I think a review is valid on the actual quest I am going through.  So far I would have to give it a three out of five stars since I have been searching all day and still have more questions than answers.  I will post this review format in the way I have been reading formats all day:

Pros
- I am not oblivious to the fact that this is potentially a product that I want and need and I am grateful they have created such a product.
- They look shiny and new and have all sorts of features.
- Some of them don't cost too terribly much.
- They weigh less than a desktop computer and even less than my old laptop.
- I saw someone on the airplane playing solitaire on one and that is something I would totally do if I were on an airplane.
- I saw someone on the airplane reading a book on one and that is something I would totally do if I were on an airplane.

Cons
- There are way, way, way too many different types, configurations, operating systems, dodads and things to make this an easy comparison shopping experience.
- They have many features, but they are not as functional as a laptop.
- The ones that have all the best stuff cost more than I want to spend.
- They may not weigh very much but I bet they will break if I drop them.
- The major application I would use them for would be getting on the internet which would cost an additional fee.
- I would probably only be using this thing when on trips, and based on the cost of the initial tablet and internet fees I would be paying quite a bit to have a portable solitaire playing, ebook reading and email checking device. 

Of the cons, the one that is the hardest to get around is the enormous amount of variation of devices.  I am definitely not an early adopter and this means that I often avoid getting the initial lemons, but I am left with a task of  figuring out the good from the bad in a very large pool of available products.  What this means for me is that I have to research and take notes and research and take more notes and then make a decision before all my research and note taking becomes obsolete.

Another con is that although I want this device so I can be less weighed down on my various airport hikes and I can check my emails and look at websites whenever I want, neither of these are actually necessities.  I did just fine this last trip without my laptop.  The hotel had a media center where for a small fee I could get online.  I had an actual paper book I could read on the plane.  Mind you I was not able to play solitaire the entire time I was gone, but that was mostly because I didn't think to bring a pack of cards with me.

So, one star lost for being such a pain to figure out and one star lost because I can't actually say I need this thing more than I want this thing.

To be continued... 

The Horse that Rolled

It is hard to imagine these days how much horses meant to me when I was a child.  There was seldom a day that passed that I was not somehow involved with horses in some way.  To my ultimate dismay this seldom ever involved actually being near a horse.  I had to fulfill my bottomless horse desire with drawing, daydreaming, watching Big Valley and other horse themed shows or talking about them.  My sister was also very horse driven which allowed us to commiserate together about the lack of horse in our lives and to conspire together to try and increase our horse opportunities.

Luckily for us our aunt who lived next door to us had a friend who had horses.  Billie was a very sturdily built woman who lived on several acres with her two kids and a half dozen horses.  I think there was a Mr. Billie but I never remember seeing him.  Billie was unlike my mother and unlike my aunt in many ways.  Number one on the list was her attire.  I don't believe I ever saw her wearing anything but jeans and cowboy boots along with some worse for wear tee shirt.  Now, my mother and my aunt wore jeans, but theirs were a variety that was not likely to be used for labor.  Billie's jeans were stained, torn and smelled of horse.

Billie also had short hair which was worn in a style called a 'shag'.  Basically it was many layers of stiff dark hair that didn't seem to get combed very often.  My mother's hair was always 'done' in some way that kept it stylish and caused her to avoid things that would 'undo' it.  The most different thing about Billie from female relatives was her personality.  She was loud.  She was outspoken.  She would use words that my sister and I were not allowed to speak and were not even supposed to hear.  We loved Billie.

Of course had she just been this loud swearing woman who dressed like a ranch hand I am sure I would have loved her still, but what really made us love her was that she had horsed - and she invited us over to ride them.

I clearly remember our first such outing and it was memorable for several reasons.  First was that for some reason my mother trusted Billie enough to leave my sister, my cousins and I with her.  Perhaps my mother had something really urgent she needed to do, or perhaps my aunt was using some sort of hypnotic persuasion technique on my mother, but she left us in the care of this scruffy, loud, un-motherly, swearing woman.  And she left us there for hours at a time.  Truly a memorable moment.

So my mother and my aunt drop my sister and three cousins and me off and drive away.  Billie waves and calls out encouraging things to them as they drive off and then just sets about getting all of us kids, including her own two into readying the horses for riding.  Since there were more of us than horses that could be ridden and probably because she didn't want too many of us on horseback at once she divided us into groups of two and set us about tasks.  We had to water the horses and saddle the horses and comb the horses and several other chores.  We who would balk at even the slightest home chore went after all tasks with wild, happy abandon.  Horses have a way of doing that to kids.

I was one of the first two riders.  Billie chose for me to ride Roper, a bay colored horse and her daughter who was a couple of years younger than me was set up to ride a pony.  As she boosted me into the saddle, Billie just instructed me to ride to the end of the field, which was about two acre lengths and then turn around and come back.  I took hold of the reins and held them the way she instructed and then clucked for the horse to walk.  Billie's daughter started off beside me and as we started crossing the field she said to me, "Don't let him roll on you."  I wanted to ask her what she meant, but the pony chose to trot forward and then Roper began to trot which caused me to bounce up and down in the saddle like a sack of grain.  We jounced our way to the end of the field and I set about pulling on the reins to get Roper to turn.

He decided he did not want to turn.  Instead, Roper abruptly stopped and began to kneel down, then slowly began to roll over onto his side.  This was something unprecedented in my limited horse riding experience.  I had just enough presence of mind to get off the saddle as Roper began to try to roll onto his back.  From across the field I could hear Billie shouting, "Don't you let that @#&* horse roll!!"

Often as a child I was given what seemed like incomplete information.  Things such as how in fact one was supposed to stop an animal that weighed hundreds of more pounds than you from doing what it pleased was entirely lacking.  I tried to improvise by putting my little hands on his neck and pushing, saying "Roper, don't roll."  This was not effective.  Roper proceeded to roll over onto his back.

Now Billie had not just shouted at me, she had begun to run my way and this was a sight as well.  She was a big woman and you might have thought her to be somewhat slow, but that would be a mistake.  Once she got going the momentum of her bulk had her traveling at quite a clip.  She reached us just as Roper had rolled over once and proceeded to let out the most loud and invective filled string of syllables I had ever heard.  This was not lost on Roper and he jumped to his feet immediately.  She took hold of his reins and told me to "Come on!" while she practically drug Roper back to the stable yard.

I was feeling pretty low at that point and thought my chance to ride had been forfeited when she commanded me to get back in his saddle.  "You're the one he pulled that crap with so you're the one who has to ride him."  She snapped a lead rope to Ropers bridle and once I was back on top of him she said "Now don't touch the reins.  Just hold on to the saddle horn."  I did just that.  No way was I doing to disobey this cantankerous woman.  She picked up a riding crop, stood in the center of a dirt ring and slapped the crop against her leg, telling Roper to get going.  He began to walk around a circle the length the lead rope allowed.

At first I was quite scared, but after several circles, things didn't seem to be so bad.  Billie grunted. and brought us to a stop.  "What way were you turning when he rolled?" she asked.  "Uhhh..." I responded trying to desperately think of which was my left and right hand.  Sensing that Billie was not about to put up with my personal failings I just blurted out, "Right."  Somehow this turned out to be the actual answer and was not the current direction we were circling.  "Okay," she said, "Then he is not going to like this next part, so you better hang on tight."

There was no time for me to even fully comprehend what she said before she had us turned and circling right.  Roper did not in fact like going in this direction and began to buck just a little bit.  She smacked him on the rump and he began to go even faster, slightly humping his back occasionally as he did.  I was clenching the saddle horn for all I was worth and each time Roper bucked I felt myself lifting from the saddle only to gratefully slam back down.  As he began to travel faster, still arching his back from time to time I began to list a little bit in the saddle when I came down and I was worried that if he bucked one more time I was going to fall off and then Billie would kill me.  Luckily she slowed him down and let me get off.

"Alright," she said, "That ought to do it."  Then she commanded me to walk the horse, take off his saddle, comb him down and feed him.  I did each thing she said without a moments hesitation.  One false move and I was afraid she was going to make me ride him again.  It began to dawn on me that Billie had a lot more expectation of me than my mother ever did.  In Billie's world you did not talk back, you did as you were told.  If you fell off the horse nobody was going to coddle you or even ask if you were okay.  If you were told to do something you did it, even if you weren't actually capable of doing it.  Thus I fell off the horse and didn't get hurt.  I rode a bucking horse and didn't fall off.  I took off a saddle that weighed almost more than I did.

Billie didn't just have this kind of control over us kids, but it seemed to extend to our mother's as well.  When my mother and aunt finally came to get us, Billie recounted our adventures, saying of my mishap.  "Yeah, that Roper tried to roll on her, but she is okay."   Somehow she said it in such a way that it took every bit of menace out of it so that my own overly protective mother did not even bat an eye.  My aunt's curiosity was piqued though and she said "Why would a horse try to roll?"

"Well," Billie drawled with one boot up on the lowest fence rail, "The guy that owned him prior to me taught him tricks.  So when the horse gets tired or doesn't want to work he will pull one of them. But we got it all settled out didn't we?"  She slapped me on the back with the last sentence.  I just nodded.  Oh yeah, we got it all settled.

That ended our first adventure with Billie and we went on to have many more.  Some were the best horse encounters I ever had and some were less than stellar.  None however were as memorable as that first one with Roper, the horse that rolled. 

The chickens have come home to roost...

Mud chickens that is.  For the last three days we have been receiving water from the sky.  A very unlikely event for 2011.  We normally will have over 34 inches of rain by this time each year.  This year we have 11 inches to date and about an inch of that fell in the last three days. 

We have become grudgingly accustomed to this year.  In addition to the lack of rain there has been many days of over 100 degree temperatures so that by now, when it is only in the mid to upper nineties, it feels relatively cool.  We have altered our lives to the extent that we water our struggling vegetable garden every single day.  We do this in spite of a water ban because of a happy little loophole in that ban.

If you water with a sprinkler system, you are relegated to watering only two days a week and those days are specified by whether your house address ends in an even or odd number.  The ban also requires you to water at certain very inconvenient times, basically from sundown to sunup.  The loophole is that you can water to your hearts content any day of the week and at any time if you hold the hose.  Now that is already our basic way of watering because it is much more efficient and effective than using a sprinkler.  If we were watering our vegetable plants with a sprinkler we would have either 1. dead plants because we would not be getting enough water to the plants we want to cherish and instead be watering the entire yard, or 2. have a water bill that pushes into four figures a month.  So the ban has not actually limited our watering of the plants.

The plants have shown their appreciation of this by dying by degrees instead of all at once.  The attrition level continues to climb as these poor plants, faced with a pitiless cloud free sun and temperatures more suited to cooking decide it is just not worth it and finally expire.  Others valiantly struggle onward.  The attrition has been worse on the cucumbers.  My husband has been nurturing and coddling these guys with cleverly placed shade cloths that he must remove at sunrise so they can get some sun but recover by noon or they just fry away.  If we get even one cucumber this fall it will be due to his undying cucumber loyalty.

In the beginning of September the 100 degree plus hatred of the Mega-Summer relented for about a week and we had temperatures in the 60s at night and 80s in the day.   The effect on everyone was transformative.  Unfortunately that kind of weather is so foreign to this part of the world it quickly continued its journey to its actual home somewhere far, far from here, but it did the job.  Mega-Summer was vanquished and although our temperatures have crept back into Summer realms, the waning daylight has effectively nixed any more of those 109 degree days.

And then it rained.  It wasn't just me who upon hearing the rain became startled and confused (what is that sound???) others reported the same.  I had to actually walk out into a pelting shower in order to seek the long forgotten umbrella somewhere hidden in my car.  It was raining - oh joy!!!

The joy has been somewhat diminished by its effect on a portion of our pathway in the garden.  At the first of the year when we were breaking ground on the new garden areas we found a brilliant solution to what to do with all the tons of clay we were unearthing.  We will just put it into the pathway and sprinkle it with grass seed and presto - instant grassy path.  We pulverized the clay and bought the grass seed and waited for a rainy day.  Fast forward about six months.  That clay path has become powder and now that it has rained enough to actually wet the soil it has become a clay bog.

This would be something that could be avoided except for two reasons.  A Border Collie and a Westie.  Now the Border Collie is doing what she thinks is a grand job in mixing up the clay for us.  It looks like a herd of Border Collies has passed back and forth through the pathway so that there are clingy little ridges of it strewn up onto the fence and surrounding garden areas.

The Westie who is older and therefore more reasoning about how staying clean will allow you better access to being allowed indoors avoids this pathway most of the time.  He does not avoid it when I am outside in the garden areas adjacent to the muddy path.  In fact, his sister the Border Collie likes nothing better than to ram his little body down into the mud any time he ventures into that area.  The net effect is muddy paws.

For the Border Collie the muddy paws are what you would expect.  A little under the nails and a little in between the pads.  For some reason, the Westie has feet that collect mud better than anything on this earth.  I was coming inside after scouting the areas I was going to plant my new squash plants (either destined for a wonderful fall garden or a continued source of plant sacrifice to the gods of unreasonable drought).  My husband was watching from the kitchen window and pointed out poor little Lewey's progress behind me.  His little feet had managed to attract so much mud they were like little puppy snow shoes, fully twice as large as normal.  His halting progress also indicated that this was very uncomfortable.  So, I scooped him up and spent a good 10 minutes in the tub de-mudding his paws.  The Border Collie also had to be debrided before coming inside.

This has all the makings of a big pain in the neck which is forcing my husband and I to come up with alternative solutions, of which there is really only one.  We have to fence off the muddy area.  Luckily we have the fencing for it, but unluckily we are out of fence posts.  This means we will either have to make the enormously bothersome trip to the lumber store or devise some alternate plan.  The problem with alternate plans is that the Border Collie absolutely loves the muddy part of the yard because that is where she has shouting matches with the squirrels, something that rates very high on the Border Collie obsession scale.  This will mean she will try with all of her abundant energy and intelligence to get around any barrier we place in her way.

It should prove to be an interesting time.

Dog Diaries

You might think that a dog's life is rather uncomplicated, but that would be a mistake.  A dog's life is incredibly complicated due in large part to their tendency to 'live in the moment' or in other words 'forget about almost everything that happened yesterday'.  This means that each day is a glorious new day of discovery unencumbered by such things a 'learning from one's past mistakes'. 

So the things you learned yesterday are new and ready for you to learn them again today.  Every day is an adventure with this framework and my dogs live their adventurous life to the fullest.  I on the other hand, watching their antics 'get' the whole 'memory' thing and am often driven to distraction with my little canine duo's exploits.

Take for example this scenario:

You want to go outside and your human has every intention of letting you outside as indicated by their body language, their actual language ("Let's go outside") and the fact that they are making a bee line for the back door.  You indicate your comprehension of this impending outside-ness by 1) running back and forth between the back door and the human in ever increasingly small sprints because they are getting closer and closer to the door, 2) jumping up on your human in such a way you actually push them back from the door they are trying to reach, 3) positioning yourself in the way of the backdoor and spinning, spinning, spinning so that your feet slap against the top of the washer and then against the back door and potentially the human who is trying to reach the back door, 4) ignoring every command to sit, quiet, back as you increase your frenzied attempts to go out through the closed door, and 5) cramming your body so tightly against the back door that it is almost impossible for your human to actually open the door. 

One might think that in your roughly 13 months of being let out that door without any resistance would register on your brain as an event that was 'going to happen' so you need not act like a frenzied gopher doped up on caffeine.  But apparently, this is one of 'those' times you are 'in the moment' and unable to actually make long term memories.

It isn't just the Border Collie who has the short/long term memory deficiencies.  The Westie has had a full 8 years of counseling that consistently reminds him to not 'chase the cat'.  He gets reminded of this prior to each and every time he goes out the back door.  I say "Lewey, No CAT!" in my most booming and top dog voice.  He looks at me like "Yeah, right, I know, I know,  'No cat' - I get it".  Then, each and every time he goes out he seeks to 'chase the cat'.  I often am following him out and grabbing him as he is desperately chasing the cat his mind fully absorbed in a primal game of Westie the Vermin Chaser.  I then shout at him, "NO.... NO... NO CAT!"  If I don't actually have my hands on him he will seek with every atom of his being to chase the cat in spite of this.  When I do lay hands on him it's like he is jerked awake from some incredible fantasy and he looks at me like "Whoa! What are you doing here?"

So I am thinking that an actual Dog Diary would be filled with many repetitious entries along the lines of "Today, I went OUTSIDE!!!"  and "I ate FOOD!" and "Mom said I wasn't supposed to chase the cat... since when??"  No actually that last one would never make it in because that would indicate that he actually comprehends that I don't want him to chase the cat.  He cannot comprehend a world in which a cat would not be chased.  Of course he is going to chase the cat.  That is what you do with cats, even the ones that you like.  So, no, the dog diary would never have that entry.

Another thing the actual Dog Diary would not have is any reference to any reprimand whatsoever.  They would never talk about 'getting in trouble' because that kind of occurrence evaporates from their brain the moment it is over.  There is a reason that reward systems of training work so well.  That is the only thing they can actually remember.  There would be multiple, multiple entries along the lines of '...and I got a treat!' or '... and then Mom told me I was gooooood!!!'

Of course what they think they are being rewarded for is not always what I think I am rewarding them for.  Positive reinforcement encourages the behavior that was happening right before the reward was given.  This can be very useful if you take a long view and realize that you are steadily approaching perfection.  This is especially true if you have a 'smart' dog, for example - a Border Collie.  They thrive on positive reinforcement and that reinforcement can come in many forms.

Sometimes all it takes for me to reinforce my Border Collie's behavior is a look.  You might be thinking 'Wow that must make her easy to train' and in a certain way you are right, it is just that what you might be 'training' isn't always what you want.  For example, this 'look' reward is what she gets when she interrupts me when I am using the laptop on the bed.  I will be in the middle of say, writing a blog entry, and she will position herself just to the right of my gaze.  A single paw is extended to 'tap' me on my arm and as soon as I look into her eyes she gives me this smile, which automatically causes me to smile back and then I have a puddle of Border Collie squeezing between me and the laptop.  She is so ecstatically happy that I looked at her she is oblivious to any other command.  My only defense is to keep my eyes down when she gives me the 'tap' and then I can command her to do something else.

So definitely in her diary there would be multiple entries of 'Mom LOOKED at me!!!'

Ah well that is all for now... she has tapped and now I am typing over a squirming dog.

9/11 - We've Reached the Top

At first I thought - no I won't write about it.  I was not directly involved.  I did not lose a loved one.  I don't have a valid reason to speak about my memories of that day.  But as I thought about it more, I realized that like almost all Americans, I was involved with the tragedy of the day.  I did lose something.  I do have memories.  So, I thought I would share them here and perhaps you may also have memories to share.

I used to think it was peculiar when people would say, "I remember where I was when I heard the news about ____ (fill in the blank for some particular event)".  I would think it was somewhat silly.  Who cares where they were when they heard something.  Why would that be so memorable?  Well, I understand it now. 

For me, it was while I was driving into work.  I was listening to the radio and the most important thing on my mind was getting to Whole Foods to get my lunch before I began my day.  Music was playing and then the show host came on saying something about an airplane that had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York.  'Wow,' I thought, thinking of some small airplane piloted by an amateur, 'What a stupid move on the pilot's part.'  I barely gave it another thought as I went into the store and made my purchases.  I came back out and the show hosts were still talking about the initial crash and how another plane had hit the other tower.  As I continued driving the news became much more grim and my mind began to grasp that this was an attack.  An actual willful act, not an accident.  We were under attack.  What exactly did that mean?

I kept thinking as I was driving that it was all going to be okay.  They were going to put these fires out and it was going to be awful, but it was going to be okay.  It was going to be okay.  And then the first building fell.  I remember exactly where I was.  I was driving down the most beautiful part of my trip to work.  Along both sides of the street were these beautiful towering oak trees whose upper canopies met to form an amazing arch of dappled shade and tranquility.  There I was surrounded by beauty as the radio broadcast the tower falling.

In that moment I knew that it was not going to be okay.  As quickly as I could I went home listening to the radio divulge the horror of that morning.  My husband met me at the door.  He had watched it all on the TV.  I sat with him and we watched it happen together.  We grieved together for the loss of life - as distant and detached from it as we were, we still grieved as if we had lost members of our own family.

That was one of the first things that was hard to reconcile.  I felt tremendous grief and loss.  This quickly became something I kept to myself because it was as if I did not have a right to this grief.  I personally did not know anyone in the Towers.  I did not know any of the firefighters or police officers who died.  Yet, I was struck down with it as if I did know these people.  Every account I read about or heard brought me to a point of empathy that had me experiencing the loss of the loved one.  Although I am sure I am not alone in this and others who were not personally involved felt this way, I learned to conceal it.  It quickly became apparent that there was a litmus test as to who was allowed to visibly grieve.  If you did not know someone who was there, then you were just 'show-boating' and your sadness was just an attention ploy.  So I kept my sadness to myself.

That day and the weeks after were spent in a fruitless effort of trying to find out enough information to make sense of it all.  The local paper did not have the answers so I purchased copies of foreign newspapers hoping they could tell us more.  Nothing we read, nothing we watched, nothing we listened to on the radio did anything to lift the veil but rather it surrounded us with information about the world that we had been blissfully ignorant of before.

It is almost as if I had been living my life asleep at the wheel and this event woke me up.  This awakening was not friendly because at first it seemed that I was awakened to a house on fire.  Everything decision seemed crucial and every event seemed magnified.  I had not been paying attention and now my world was changed. 

I won't bore you with all the details of me becoming aware of the world in which I lived, but suffice it to say I developed an interest in news feeds that have not been watered down by the opinions of those reporting.  I found out where my local news gets their information from and I drink from that unsullied well.  I learned to search back to the source for almost every bit of information in order to evaluate its validity.  I learned to create my own opinions based on those facts and resist heartily following anyone else's point of view.  I also, thankfully, have learned to keep my mouth shut about what I think because it very often differs from what other people think.  I value what other people think, even when I disagree with them.  I appreciate the freedom we all have to think these different things.

Before this devolved any further into how 9/11 was my personal catalyst.  Let me end with a remembrance of those who sacrificed the most that day 10 years ago.  This political cartoon touched me then and it still does today.  So I leave you with this:

Kiddie Pool

Being as I am, a great big scardy-cat around water, it is interesting to find that I have made peace with the wet stuff.  This was not some great big revelation on my part, nor was it a deliberate attempt to subdue my phobia.  This recent detente has come about from the application of plastic and air.  In other words, an inflatable swimming pool.

An inflatable pool is everything that an in-ground pool is not.   It does not have a deep end.  It does not have a pool filter.  It does not stay refreshingly cool in 100+ degree temperatures.  It is not deep enough to swim in if you are an average adult sized human. If you invite your friends over to an inflatable pool party when you are an adult they will not think it is cool or hip. An inflatable pool does not ooze ambiance, nor does it remind you of a tropical oasis.   Although there are many different models and some of them are quite large, ours is not.   In fact, our inflatable pool looks almost as if some incredibly large insect decided to start building a bubble nest on our lawn but then got distracted.

However, what is great about an inflatable pool is that it is nothing like an in-ground pool.  It not only does not have a deep end, but it holds a reasonable amount of water, so you don't have to go broke filling it nor do you have to feel any guilt about having one during the worst drought in 100 years.  It does not have a filter, but it does not need one because when you are finished using it for the day you just empty the water out (which can be used to water the garden since there are no chemicals) and you can refill it with fresh water the next time you want to set it up.  You also don't have to keep it in one place and in fact by moving it from place to place you won't even kill the grass.  Although some are relatively small, a moderate sized inflatable pool can hold two adults with ease.  Our pool in fact not only has enough room for two adults, but also has enough room for a Border Collie and Westie as well.  The best thing about our inflatable pool is that it cost us just $25.

Our biggest trouble with our pool is training our dogs on pool etiquette.  We have a two pool system.  This means we have a hard sided plastic kiddie pool that we got for our Border Collie set up just outside the larger pool.  The rules are that you must enter and exit the big pool via the plastic pool.  This is very necessary because we want the delay the inevitable 'pool becoming a muddy pond' for as long as possible.  Now our Westie follows the rules, but he pretty much has to because the sides of the inflatable pool are too tall for him to comfortably climb without assistance.

The Border Collie on the other hand can easily clear the pool edge - and from a distance of about 15 feet away when she is running.  It takes every bit of 'dominant dog' posturing by me and my husband to get her to comply with the wading pool entry system.  Once she is in the pool she has several favorite things she likes to do.  One of these is to bite the water and stick her face underwater while blowing bubbles out of her nose.  This really revs her up which often means she will come over and attempt to nibble on your ears or even your neck.  When she stands up, the pool at its full depth will only just reach her belly, so she likes to sit down to let the water get on her back.  If the water hose is still running she likes to chase and bite the water stream as well.   All of this takes place within about sixty seconds because she will then leap out of the pool and run over to a garden bed to hunt lizards.  We are not sure just exactly what sort of primeval thing is being played out, but once she is out of the pool she is instantaneously transformed into obsessed lizard huntress.  This often means we are transformed into frantic lizard guardians.  So, it is true that a swimming pool can help you burn calories.

The Westie on the other hand is an enchanting pool partner.  Once you help him into the pool he takes on this beatific look as if in some sort of transcendental zen like state.  The water is usually deep enough that it almost covers his back.  This causes this little back legs to occasionally float.  He does not swim, but slowly walks around making little uff-uff grunting noises.  He will come to life if we squirt the water hose in the pool and will madly attack it, leaping like some sort of slow motion Westie/Manatee creature.  Sometimes though he prefers to do pool sitting which is where he climbs on top of whatever part of me or my husband he can reach.  This is annoying because of his dagger like assortment of nails, or as I like to call them, his tools.  After a few minutes he is usually done and wants out where upon he then likes to roll in dirt and hay.  This turns him into the abominable dirt dog and makes us have to hose him off before we can allow reentry into the pool.

Definitely a two thumbs and two dew claws up winner in our books.  So, bring it on Mega-summer, we are all keeping cool in our unattractive but perfectly functional inflatable pool. 

Colorado - Episode 2

Every year as it starts to get despicably hot, like unfortunately it is right now, my mind begins to dwell on my family's summer get away from our coastal heat and humidity - Colorado.  Every year we went it was a different adventure and every year it seemed somehow we came away with a greater knowledge and appreciation of ourselves, our family and low humidity, moderate temperature living.

Now this is not to say that these adventures did not also come with their own ordeals.  We often met the unexpected, ran out of essentials or just ran into bad luck.  Somehow, the knowledge we gained from one misadventure never seemed to help us to avoid another situation.  It was as if each time we went there was some great fateful roll of the dice and we would be coping with a new type event.

Take for example the time my father, my sister and I were out camping.  We were definitely into roughing it in that we would go for a week, camping in a tent with sleeping bags and only rudimentary sanitary facilities.  Getting to stay at a camp site with a 'hole in the ground' toilet was a luxury.  I must mention that my sister and I were still of an age that going for a week without a bath was nothing but a welcome relief.  By the end of the trip we would be smelling of camp fire smoke, fish bait and damp sleeping bags, but we loved it.

On this one trip we were at the end of a several day outing that had our camp supplies running a bit low.  The next day we would be moving our campsite, so we would be stocking up again at one of the stores that was currently miles away from where we were.  It looked to be a meager meal since that day we had not caught any fish. Our provisions were down to a single can of chicken soup, a box of Bisquick and a couple of pieces of bread.  As my father was getting ready to heat up the can of soup over our cook stove, I happened to notice the Bisquick package had a recipe for dumplings.  Dumplings for me were these heavenly things my great grandmother had made for me along with a fresh helping of homemade chicken soup.  They were like little soft sided biscuits floating in a savory broth.  I pointed out the recipe to my father, more of as an aside than actually thinking we could make them. 

Cooking at 7500 feet of elevation is not an easy proposition.  Water will look like it is hot when it is barely even warm.  There are whole cookbooks devoted to correct ways to cook at high altitude.  We had no such a book and even if we had I doubt we would have paid it much attention.  My father thought for some reason that I knew how to go about making dumplings.  Eating dumplings was as close as I had ever come, but I liked it that he thought I had a great idea.  So we mixed up this jam jar full of Bisquick and water.  He kept asking me if he had mixed it correctly and I, savoring the attention kept saying 'yes'.  My sister was keeping to herself in the background, either uninterested in our experiment or perhaps just too weak with hunger to comment.

Everything was going great with the soup in the pan steaming, which it unfortunately would do when barely tepid.  I was re-reading the Bisquick box which said to put spoonfuls of the batter into boiling water.  The soup looked to be boiling so I told my father to put the batter in.  I failed to explain the exact way he was to do this so he just dumped the entire jar of batter in at once and began stirring the mixture vigorously.  Apparently he and I shared a lack of cooking expertise. 

I was a little stunned by his method, but I didn't say anything.  After all, the deed had been done and my saying the batter should have been spooned in and not stirred wasn't going to change a thing.  The pot that had once contained a meager but perfectly functional chicken soup, now contained a maelstrom of thick white goo.  The bits of chicken and carrots just made it look like some sort of raw dough trash.  We all took a look at it and decided that we really were not as hungry as we thought we were. There is nothing like the promise of something absolutely awful to staunch even the strongest appetite.  I think I ended up eating a piece of bread for dinner that night.

We survived and the next morning we broke camp and high tailed it to the closest store.  I thought we had gotten off relatively easy, none of us having to suffer through actually eating the culinary disaster.  Little did I know that this would be the start of a lifelong legend.

To this day when we are trying to decide where we might want to go to eat, or if the subject of camping comes up my father will look over at me, wink, and say, "Hey, I know, I think we have some Bisquick..."

Earl Grey Green

I have not always been a tea snob.  It used to be that I only drank Lipton iced tea, and usually only when out at a restaurant.  It used to be that I just did not have the time it took to put a tea bag into a cup and wait the minute or two it took for the thing to brew.  Oh, sure occasionally I would go through the effort, but the end result never seemed to be worth the bother. 

Now, I had always heard about tea being a big deal in England.  Tea pots, tea leaves, tea cakes and scones seemed to be more exotic and foreign than possible for a country with whom I shared a common language.  Just what was up with all that tea.  As a child I learned about the Boston Tea Party and my teachers seemed to intimate that drinking tea was almost un-American.  I could not, unfortunately, indulge in the truly American beverage of coffee.  Through trial and error I learned that coffee had a very negative effect on me.  Profuse sweating, heart palpitations and hyperactive behavior were the side effects of even a single cup of coffee, and this was not lessened with decaf either.  You might think it strange that after noticing these effects I would ever again try to drink coffee, but 1. I think we have covered my inability to pay attention to things in previous posts, so it took several repeated forays before I made the connection; 2. I love the smell and taste of coffee since childhood; 3. I am patriotic and felt I was somehow letting America down by not imbibing in the American colonists sanctioned beverage.

So with coffee out of the question, tea became something I began to pursue.  I did this in the form of herbal teas at first.   Celestial Seasonings made a bunch of very creatively packaged herbal teas of which my favorites were Sleepy Time (a chamomile based) and Red Zinger (a hibiscus based).  They tasted great, but they were also a little fussy.  The tea bags did not have a string, which necessitated scooping out the bag with a spoon and then finding some way to squeeze the bag without scalding your fingers.  I usually ended up scalding my fingers.

Now it is just one short step from drinking herbal teas to drinking exotic black tea blends.  This is due mostly to where you buy the herbal teas.  The tea department at my local health food store was a riot of various teas with strange and exotic names.  Just what is a Rooibos or Oolong or Yerba Mate?  I had no idea however my best friend did.  She was the goddess of teas and had about a billion types.  What was more, she had loose leaf tea.  I was very wary of that because it smacked of the kind of unpatriotic activity I was trying to avoid.  However, she let me try many of her different teas with tea bags.  I tried many different types, but discovered that drinking black tea led to headaches and this led me to the discovery of green tea.  Green tea is different from black tea in that it is not fermented. Apparently it is just the fermentation process and I that do not get along.   I found I could drink green tea by the gallons and suffer nary a headache.    So, now I was set free from the liability of tea.  

My first green tea love and one I am still particularly fond of was jasmine tea.  It was almost like drinking flowers.  I soon learned however that not just any jasmine tea would do and it was infuriating that the brand of tea I liked the most was some sort of hard to come by variety that was apparently backpacked out of China in small secretive quantities.  Not really, but it seemed that way since I never found it in any stores.  Then I looked on line and it was like a flood gate opening.  I had only thought I didn't know anything about teas before.  Now with all the varieties online I was a complete tea idiot.

I also discovered that there were stores in my town devoted to tea drinkers.  At these tea emporiums you could order a pot of one of the many varieties of loose leaf tea and sit around drinking tea.  I did that exactly two times.  One time was in a meeting with a group, so there was an abundance of talk as well as an abundance of tea varieties.  It was at this meeting that I first met an Earl Grey green tea.  It was love at first sip.  I went back a week later and ordered a pot of this tea.  I was prepared for this solo experience in that I had brought a book.  The tea was great, but the 'sitting around drinking your pot of tea in the tea shop' left a lot to be desired.  First of all, there was no sugar anywhere on the premises.  Apparently, based on the fact there were not 'tea condiments' anywhere in the shop, putting anything but hot water in with your tea was the equivalent to pollution. There was also this air of snobbishness the employees seemed to be soaked in.  When I ordered an ounce of the Earl Grey green to take home the salesperson asked several questions in an attempt to ensure I deserved to purchase the said tea.  "I would like an ounce of the Early Grey green," I said.  "The green Earl Grey?" the salesperson said, dubiousness written all over his face.  "You know the black has a much better bouquet."  He then snatched the Earl Grey black off the shelf and opened the container so I could smell it, followed by the container of the green.  I obligingly smelled them both.  The green tea had an incredible citrus scent while the black seemed to pound my nose with an orange perfume.  "See," he said, "The black is much more aromatic."  He began to put the green tea away as if this demonstration had swayed me.  "Uh," I said, "I still want the green."  He looked shocked, and nearly rolled his eyes while filling my order.

I made my purchase ($8.00 for the ounce!) not thinking too much about the encounter because I had my tea.  I took it home and made a cup this time with an application of cane sugar.  It was as if my taste buds had been transported to heaven.  It was a transcendental experience as far as drinking a cup of tea can be.  I now knew what they meant when they said people that use meth can be hooked from their first encounter.  I was definitely hooked on this Earl Grey green.

That first ounce lasted me about three weeks, but hey, no problem because the tea store was easy to get to.  My habit was so strongly entrenched by then that I knew better than to run out, so I made another visit to the tea shop.  A different employee was there from my first time and he was nice and didn't seem to have any snobbish leanings.  I ordered my Earl Grey green, but as he was filling the order I noticed the tea looked a little different.  I didn't say anything, after all, I was a novice in these things.  Maybe it was my imagination.  I got to my office with the tea and decided to have a cup.  I opened my newly purchased back and inhaled deeply.  Gag!  What was this?  What was that 'off' smell?  And what were these strange purple flowers doing in my Earl Grey green?  I thought 'Okay, don't panic, maybe the taste will come out when it is brewed'.  I made a cup and took a sip.  This was not a transcendental experience unless taking a mouthful of what tasted like dirty sock water transcends your personal life, and if it does, my condolences.

Obviously I had been given the wrong tea.  It was a hassle, but I managed to make it back to the tea shop the next day.  Luckily the same salesperson was there.  I had brought along the previous bag of tea I had purchased to use as a comparison.  I felt I had the issue well in hand and they would see the mistake and rectify it.  That was not to be the case.

It all started off well enough.  I talked to the salesperson and explained how I thought he had given me the wrong tea.  I showed him the difference between the two bags, how they looked and smelled different.  He took down the store canister and showed me the Earl Grey green they had was the one he had given me.  I thought perhaps the canister had been loaded with the wrong tea.  He did not know, but luckily, the store owner was there and could help us.  The store owner turned out to be this enormous woman who had been hunched over the front counter talking to another customer.  The salesperson politely asked her if she could help my situation.  She barely glanced my way as I explained what I thought had happened - ie. wrong tea placed into the store canister.  I showed her my previous bag with the dwindling supplies of a very uniform, dark green leaf tea compared to the newest bag of a light colored, purple flower filled leaf tea.  I said, "They smell entirely different."  Without moving her bulk from her slumped position against the counter, she took both bags and inserted her beefy nostrils into one and then the other pulling in a whiff. 

I have spent quite a lot of time studying the marvelous book written by Dale Carnegie, "How to Win Friends and Influence People."  I find that it is a wealth of knowledge in interactions with others and I apply its principles whenever I can.  This tea shop owner had apparently never read his book, but perhaps she could write one of her own: 'How to make enemies and alienate people'.  She did this by rendering her observation of the two teas.  "They are the same." she announced without looking in my direction.   "They most certainly are not the same!" I found my self saying in a booming voice as my temper reached the boiling point. She just pointedly ignored me, so I concluded my business with the shop by trading in the offensive tea for a generic green tea and left that store never to return again.  I made it a point to let everyone I knew know of the bungling job the owner had done in handling my issue.

But there I was, having tasted heaven and now set adrift without that Earl Grey green nectar.  I did find a passable substitute at my local health food store which also happened to cost much, much less than the horrible tea shop.  This has kept me going for the last year but the transcendental tea experience became just a fading memory.

Until this last weekend.  I was visiting my tea goddess friend and we were procuring her some excellent jasmine green tea (her favorite) from her local health food store.  I noticed they had the brand I had been buying, but also, another brand:  Rishi Earl Grey green tea.  It smelled heavenly and triggered that illusive memory.  I purchased an ounce and took it home.  Just yesterday I tried it. 

Transcendental!