Goodbye, Sweet Miller

It was the day that I hoped would never come. The realist in me knew that I would have to say goodbye to Miller one day; dogs cannot live forever. But for a while there, it seemed that Miller was intent on trying. He lived to be 17 3/4 years old, quite ancient for a dog.

Miller was a beautiful dog. I guess one of the reasons it seemed so hard to finally make the call to let him go was that he looked so damned good to the very end. He just had a light about him, from the minute I saw him at the shelter that very first time. Other dogs that I've adopted were often on a second or third look. I didn't even really realize that I'd seen Fred on the first walk-through at the shelter, he was so quiet, so meek. Miller stood out from the get-go.

I think it was those eyes.


Okay, maybe that's not the best shot of those eyes!

Miller's lived a pretty pampered life, as all Vanneman dogs tend to do. He loved being groomed, though he was never a fan of having his nails done. He slept on the bed, until he was unable to make it up, and then he had the very best dog beds at his disposal. My sisters and I laugh at how soft our dogs' elbows are; these are animals that have never had to lay on hard surfaces! One of Boo's nicknames, as it was, was "Pasha" Boo.


Miller and Boo were best buds. A lovely pair of dogs. And they, like all of my guys, had traveled a fair amount. Since Miller had been with me for so long, he got to travel the most. He has been lucky enough to stay in some of the nicest bed and breakfasts in the Catskills, the Adirondacks, Charlottesville, Virginia, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, the eastern shore of Maryland. There were surely others. And he and his brothers enjoyed several visits to Moosehead Lake in the far north of Maine. Such a lucky boy.


That's Bailey laying there with his head on Fred's shoulder. Miller was very patient with Bailey. We all, dogs and people alike, learned to be patient with Bailey. But Miller being Miller seemed the most able to manage it...even an unfortunate diarrhea incident on a drive up here to look at houses didn't really phase Miller much. Didn't make me very happy...

That wasn't the first time Miller had something inadvertently slopped all over his lovely coat. One time, at the Fire and Ice Festival in Mount Holly, NJ, Miller and I, along with Deb's little Menolly, I think, were waiting outside for our "fire" part of the festival: a chili contest (the ice part was an ice sculpting contest). Deb and Dana crossed the street with some chili for me (dogs were not allowed in the fire hall where the chili contest was taking place). As they handed the cup of chili over to me, Miller jumped up to get some for himself. His nose hit the cup, which flew out of my hand, flying way above our heads. As you can imagine, this entire event seemed to be happening in slow motion, but not quite slow enough for any of us to stop the inevitable: the chili landed smack dab on Miller's back. Oy. Again...it's funny in hindsight only!


Miller was so welcoming to all of the dogs who came and went from my household during his long lifetime. Such a sweet boy. And the other dogs just loved Miller.


And even in his older years he was more than willing to welcome a young punk into the family. Homer adored Miller...he would often just walk over to Miller as he lazed in his bed and plop down on the floor right next him, happy to just spend time with his older brother, though, on his first day here, he was happy to take Miller's bed. And true to Miller's gentle nature, he let him, and took the smaller bed right nearby.

The fact is that I could go on for pages about Miller. He was a special boy. Though all of my dogs are nice, Miller (once he was out of his terrible twos! Boy did I lose a lot of wood at that Oak Road house!) was just the most perfect combination of sweet and kind. We called him The Empath, and he really was able to read our minds...he always knew when I needed a little extra lovin'.

Miller, like all well-loved dogs, earned many a nickname in our family. The Golden Bear, Blondie, Blond Bombshell, his Native American Indian name, Walks in Sunlight, his dinosaur name, Tri-Miller-Tops. To me, he will always be my golden boy.

Goodbye, Sweet Miller.

A Banner Day

And it is done. Why it took so long, I'm not sure. And we all know what would have happened under a McCain administration.



The U.S. Senate did just exactly this today, and if it meant compromise on other legislation to get us to this point, I say...that's exactly what these men and women who were voted in to serve should be doing. I am proud of this vote.

Happy Holidays

I just love the Christmas season. The lights and the snow and the Christmas trees, the candles and the dogs whirling around the backyard making a right mess of the formerly pristine snow. The trees are gorgeous right now, all snow covered.

And I really, really love that silly concept of "peace on earth, goodwill toward men". I just wish we could figure out a way to make it so.

I have a new camera and hope to get some new pictures over the course of this holiday season, but to go along with this fantasticly rockin' recording from Bobby Darin's great Christmas CD...




...I have the following photos to share from Christmases past. Enjoy.

I Stand With Aaron Sorkin...

...on the question of Sarah Palin. Here is what he said about Palin's reality show...and other things:


In Her Defense, I'm Sure the Moose Had It Coming
by Aaron Sorkin


"Unless you've never worn leather shoes, sat upon a leather chair or eaten meat, save your condemnation."

You're right, Sarah, we'll all just go fuck ourselves now.

The snotty quote was posted by Sarah Palin on (like all the great frontier women who've come before her) her Facebook page to respond to the criticism she knew and hoped would be coming after she hunted, killed and carved up a Caribou during a segment of her truly awful reality show, Sarah Palin's Alaska, broadcast on The-Now-Hilariously-Titled Learning Channel.

I eat meat, chicken and fish, have shoes and furniture made of leather, and PETA is not ever going to put me on the cover of their brochure and for these reasons Palin thinks it's hypocritical of me to find what she did heart-stoppingly disgusting. I don't think it is, and here's why.

Like 95% of the people I know, I don't have a visceral (look it up) problem eating meat or wearing a belt. But like absolutely everybody I know, I don't relish the idea of torturing animals. I don't enjoy the fact that they're dead and I certainly don't want to volunteer to be the one to kill them and if I were picked to be the one to kill them in some kind of Lottery-from-Hell, I wouldn't do a little dance of joy while I was slicing the animal apart.

I'm able to make a distinction between you and me without feeling the least bit hypocritical. I don't watch snuff films and you make them. You weren't killing that animal for food or shelter or even fashion, you were killing it for fun. You enjoy killing animals. I can make the distinction between the two of us but I've tried and tried and for the life of me, I can't make a distinction between what you get paid to do and what Michael Vick went to prison for doing. I'm able to make the distinction with no pangs of hypocrisy even though I get happy every time one of you faux-macho shitheads accidentally shoots another one of you in the face.

So I don't think I will save my condemnation, you phony pioneer girl. (I'm in film and television, Cruella, and there was an insert close-up of your manicure while you were roughing it in God's country. I know exactly how many feet off camera your hair and make-up trailer was.)

And you didn't just do it for fun and you didn't just do it for money. That was the first moose ever murdered for political gain. You knew there'd be a protest from PETA and you knew that would be an opportunity to hate on some people, you witless bully. What a uniter you'd be -- bringing the right together with the far right.

(Let me be the first to say that I abused cocaine and was arrested for it in April 2001. I want to be the first to say it so that when Palin's Army of Arrogant Assholes, bereft of any reasonable rebuttal, write it all over the internet tomorrow they will at best be the second.)

I eat meat, there are leather chairs in my office, Sarah Palin is deranged and The Learning Channel should be ashamed of itself.

Wow.

We Have Tomatoes!

Yes, I have heard that there is an outbreak of late blight, but it has not hit my garden yet. Knock wood.



My garden has yielded quite a bounty so far this season: swiss chard, green beans (both of these, several times), leeks, fennel, more cucumbers than I can eat, thyme, rosemary, parsley, chives, tarragon, tons of basil. Nasturtium flowers, which we had on our appetizer plates last night.


And the tomatoes!


We had caprese salad last night, and I used the basil from the many basil plants I have, and five different types of tomatoes from my raised beds: New Girl, a basic red tomato, San Marzano, a plum tomato, Valencia, a yellow-orange heirloom, Green Zebra, another heirloom with green stripes, and a yellow cherry tomato. Fresh mozzarella from Vermont, Mediterranean sea salt and unfiltered extra virgin olive oil from California. Dana and I will be eating caprese salads for the rest of the summer.

And for lunch today: Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Glorious.

Oh, and I had a visitor this morning:

Back in the Saddle

So, I'm back working a job in consulting. It's not what I wanted, but the job isn't half bad. I go to Connecticut a couple of days a week, will be there three days a week the last two weeks of July and probably for full weeks at go-live at the beginning of August. The payoff? Supporting the customer from home once they are live with SAP. I miss my dogs, but I know it's short-term pain for a sort of long-term good deal.

Not all that exciting except for the drive home from Manchester, CT on Thursday. I drove through much of that crazy, torrential rain. It was amazing how the rain went so fast from a few drops to an absolute pounding wall of water. Usually I rave about how beautiful the drive is, both going and coming home. The Berkshires of western Massachusetts are lovely, and just about the entire drive in New York is sweet: Hudson Valley, the capitol region of Albany and then Saratoga Springs through the lower Adirondacks all the way back to Willsboro. And once I reached the Adirondacks Thursday, I had the prettiest clear skies and mountain views. We're still having way too much rain in my neck of the woods, but it's better than that rain in Connecticut and Massachusetts yesterday!

Miscellany

Because it's easier right now, this will just be a topic-less hodge podge of happenings of late.

Firstly, I have had my keypad replaced on my Dell laptop. I love this computer, and I had gotten used to not having my left shift key and my B and H keys missing. The left shift key popped off one day when I was typing. The B and H keys flew off when Homer decided to use the laptop as a springboard to jump from my chair over to the sofa. Andrew the Computer Guy kindly spearheaded getting the replacement keyboard. He's a great guy, so anyone who needs computer help up here in the North Country should seek him out. He's based in Plattsburgh. And I LOVE having all of my keys back again.



It's gardening season, don't you know. I've planted some flowers and I've put together my first rough draft of my garden plan. Dana and I built a fifth raised bed, a 3 foot by 5 foot baby that nicely finishes off the gardening area. I've started hardening-off the plants in the basement and stopped at the garden center here in Willsboro to pick up a few more flowers and some other things: rosemary, because my seeds didn't see fit to germinate, and French tarragon, because it is a fantastic herb. They didn't have any thyme, and my thyme couldn't make the time to grow in the basement. I will be busy with the garden for the next few days. Dana will have to water while I am down in Charleston next weekend.



Yes, back down to Charleston, SC for Spoleto Festival 2010. I'm meeting Deb down there; it's a birthday trip for me to celebrate turning 50 this year. Charleston and Spoleto are just about my favorite place to visit on a regular basis. The schedule is packed, and we're staying right in town at the Meeting Street Inn, which is exciting as I've wanted to try this place for years. And we'll be dining once again at the Peninsula Grill (coconut cake!!!) and Il Cortile del Re, and we're finally heading to Fig. Very exciting. And I'm sure we'll manage to get to Paolo's Gelato. And lots and lots of concert-going from Friday through Memorial Day.



As some of you are aware, I am back consulting. Part-time, and traveling to Connecticut for two days a week through the summer, when support for this customer is to revert to remote work from home. So far, so good.

Miller, my lovely senior Golden Retriever-Yellow Lab mix turned 17 in April. He's doing well. He was especially adorable and spunky yesterday.



As I type, the two Beagle mixes Fred and Homer are laying up on the back of the loveseat in the sun. Homer's head is kind of resting on Fred's butt. They look ridiculously comfortable. And adorable. I love them so much. I really cannot get enough of the dogs. I stop almost anyone I can who has a dog with them just for the chance to pet the critters. I don't know what it is about dogs that touches me so. Mine look at me like I am the most important thing in their lives. Fred sometimes seems like he's trying to pet ME. They are wonderful.



I've lately been thinking that I might want to get myself a pair of donkeys (burros, as I like to call them), or maybe goats. I pass by a sweet little donkey on my drive out of town to head to Connecticut. And there is a small farm that I pass on my return home on Thursdays that has about a dozen donkeys. I'm sure they must sell them, and it's very tempting to stop and ask. But I won't. It's hard enough leaving my woofs right now. And I don't even know if I'm allowed to have those kinds of animals in my neighborhood here in Willsboro. I also want chickens, but only because of the fresh eggs. But there are far too many downsides to having chickens.

Since I'm back in a hotel one or two days a week with the consulting thing, I've started re-reading my library of Dick Francis mysteries. He's an English writer and was a former jockey who became a prolific and successful novelist. He died earlier this year, and it's been really nice reaquainting myself with his writing and the heroes of his novels. Though I'm sure some would say that he's a little formulaic, his topics are all very interesting and well-researched, and that he manages to weave in the horse racing world into these stories is quite impressive. I love how he writes, the heroes of his books are all very appealing, even when they are damaged either physically or emotionally. I highly recommend his books. I would suggest a great starting point would be "Odds Against", where he introduces the former steeplechase jockey turned investigator Sid Halley. It is a wonderful book, and Sid Halley is a terrific, imperfect hero. He appears in three other Francis novels. Worth your time.



The Beagle boys have now switched positions: Homer is where Fred was laying, and Fred has moved to the seat cushion of the loveseat: more sun, dontcha know.

Deb's boyfriend Darryl left for Europe yesterday. He'll stay there a few weeks, then come home for about a month, and then head back over with Deb for a bit more Europe time. I think he's spending most of the first part of his trip in Germany, and then he and Deb will be mostly in France. Nice.



What else to say? Not much, so I think that will suffice for an update.

Adios, and all that.

Hello There

Yowza! It's been a while since I've posted to my blog. Shame on me. Busy, that's my only excuse. Other writing, reading, playing, dogs. Work. Life is that way sometimes. I hope to do better in the near future. For now, I leave you with this, one of my many distractions of late. I'm sure you understand.