Monthly Archives: September 2009

It's the small things

I can’t tell you how nice it was yesterday to be able to put the dogs out in their yard and not have to run right back out and bring them in. As rough as this summer has been with the prolonged triple digit heat wave and the drought, I got spoiled. My dogs love heat, and although I worried about the Old Guy being more stressed by it and brought the boys in for frequent cooling-off breaks in the air conditioning, I was able to put them back out as soon as they started bugging me were comfortable again. Rain is a whole other country. And we have gotten some rain this past week.

As I’ve said before, Basenjis don’t like wet things, like grass. They hate to get their feet wet, they don’t like raindrops falling on their head, none of that stuff. So we all have to stay in the house, except for those essential trips outside for potty breaks (which, of course, are more frequent for the Old Guy). Fortunately, the rainfall was fairly light and broken up with occasional lulls, so I was able to take him out long enough to do all the required business (no trail of turds around the house this time), with only a couple of bladder accidents when the rain’s timing was bad.

I was hoping that the long dry spell had somehow dispelled the Puppy’s traumatic association with wet grass, which I have no idea how or where he got. If it wasn’t so maddening, it would be comical. He’s absolutely petrified of walking in wet grass. Like it’s gonna jump up and bite him. I don’t know if I’m ready to give him credit for being able to make the connection between wet weather and his itchy-skin fungus breakouts (which, of course, are aggravated by almost any change in weather conditions, especially changes to damp), but it’s possible, I suppose, that he’s thinking, “NOOOOOS! If I goes out in wets grasses and gets my feets wet, boogie monsters will try to eats my skins off!”

Heavy sigh. I wonder how long he could actually “hold it” if I didn’t drag him out into the yard and stand there looking daggers at him until he pees. Who could not love one of these dogs? Seriously. Because you are so bowled over ecstatic by those fleeting moments when they’re good!

Morning rituals

I really hate getting up two hours ahead of the sun, but old dog bladders can’t wait, so here I sit, waiting for daylight. I’ve had the dogs out, fed them, fixed myself some “iced” coffee (cold but without the ice), and sat myself down at my computer. This is actually the first time I’ve tried using the quiet time to do some writing. Composing on the computer this early in the morning…anything can happen.

The Old Guy is curled up in his blanket behind me, snoozing away. Every morning we go through the same ritual. After I take him out, then take the Puppy out, I feed them, then I take him out again (I learned this the hard way — he always “saves” something). Then I spread his blanket out on the living room floor so he can get it wadded up to his ever-changing specifications. Sometimes he ends up near the kitchen, sometimes near the windows (clear across the room), and sometimes against the base of my chair. Makes getting up for more coffee a bit dicey. And he “talks” to the blanket as he shoves it around the floor. He whines at it with an air of “why don’t you cooperate for once?” Finally, he gets it subdued and then goes about arranging his old bones on it — which can get comical, considering how easily he loses his balance and how lumpy a pile he is trying to negotiate. Then he just flops down with a sigh, tucks his nose under a back leg, and it’s off to dream land, usually until around eight a.m.

Now if only I could get him to sleep that late to begin with…

Ant Feminist

I have a friend who studied history and languages and women’s studies while I was studying zoology and mammalogy and ornithology and a whole bunch of other ologies relative to wildlife. We often trade books back and forth. Although we both like some of the same science fiction titles, our tastes in non-fiction don’t line up so much. So we try and broaden each other’s horizons.

And I wander into traps.

Once when she asked me if I liked a book she’d loaned me (which I really did like), and I started waxing enthusiastic, she stopped me.

“But what did you think about how the author …something something …slighted women …something something?”

“Huh?” I frantically tried to reconstruct the book in my mind, but all I could see were cave paintings (the subject of the book). “What part was that in?” I asked, lamely.

“Oh, in the first chapter.”

First? Chapter? So I had completely blown the race before I even crossed the start line. And this happens all the time. I tell myself, well, the author is a product of his time, his generation, and I’ve read so many of the same lame patronizing passages that my mind’s ear just tunes them out. I mean, the words leave their images on my retinas; the messages go up the optic nerve to my brain; the sentences make sense grammatically. But no whistles blow to awaken Fluffy, the three-headed militant feminist watch dog. It might as well all be harp music.

On the other hand…

As I mentioned before, I recently picked up The Lives of a Cell, by Lewis Thomas, and re-read it. For some reason, after I bought it at the used book store, I read the first few essays, then put it down for several months. When I picked it up again, I read practically straight through, then went back and re-re-read the first essays. And I think I know what happened.

Several of Lewis’s essays mention, or even feature, ants, bees, or termites as representive organisms for whatever biological point he’s making. Lewis refers to individual ants, bees, termites as “he.” The first time I came across one of these, I had a knee-jerk response. I wanted to jump up, fling the book against the wall and scream “YOU STYUPID, MISOGYNISTIC, MALE CHAUVANIST PIECE. OF. SHIT!!! ALL. WORKER. ANTS, BEES, TERMITES. ARE. FEMALE!!!” But I hate to mistreat books, so I didn’t. Plus, the guy’s dead.

Point is, I told my friend about it and she said, “That would’ve gone right by me. I would not have noticed.” So now I don’t feel so bad. It’s a point of reference thing, and she and I have way different points of reference. From a purely rational point of view (I do try to be rational, sometimes) the same platitudes apply. He was a product of his time, his generation, and he was writing to/for a predominantly male audience. Those old habits were just not that easy to change.

The question now becomes, are we making any real progress in changing them today?

Social Media for Senior Citizens

Are you terrified of Twitter? Fearful of Facebook? Suspicious of Delicious? Well, don’t be. They don’t bite. These are just three of the most popular of an assortment of web sites known as “social media.” Because I know some genuine computer geeks, I was able to sit down with one (thank you, Cody Bailey) and get a basic tutorial on what site does what and what good is it. That’s the important question, right “well, what the hell good is it?” Later, another geek (and thank you, Robert Stackhouse) gave me some more “advanced” pointers.

I used to see no point in using any of them. I’m not very sociable. But I do have close friends I like to keep up with. And I kept hearing how you “need” to use these things to promote your independent business schemes, your blog, your writing, you artwork, or your whatever. And since I had no job at the time (or now, either), and needed something to do to keep from going crazy when I wasn’t filling out piles of job applications, I decided to sign up.

I actually started with MySpace, but that was only because my brother and niece had MySpace pages, and I knew I could get them as “friends.” But then I signed up for Twitter and Facebook, and have totally ignored MySpace ever since. Because Facebook is dynamic  and Twitter is simple. MySpace is too much like and not enough like an actual blog — if that makes sense (no? neither does MySpace). But I digress.

Twitter is simple. You sign up; you can use a screen name, or just your own name (if nobody else is already using what you pick); you get offered a set of other Twitter users (“tweeps”) to follow; and you can send e-mails inviting your friends to sign up or to follow you. If you’re looking for a particular interest group, you can go to search.twitter.com and type your request into the search box. I found some other basenji owners to follow, and now some of them are also following me, and some of them read my blog (Hi, basenji tweeps!). Twitter is fun because you can passively stalk people. I follow some of the actors who were on some of my favorite sci fi shows, like Wil Wheaton, Brent Spiner, and LeVar Burton of  Star Trek The Next Generation, and Nathan Fillion of Firefly. And PETER MAX! He was never on Star Trek or Firefly. But he makes cool art. I’ve been a fan of his since the 60′s. But I digress, again.

Twitter comments, or “tweets” are limited to 140 characters. That’s including spaces, etc. So be brief. But that’s kind of a good thing. You can let all your tweeps know that the weather is shitty, or you’re on your way to do something cool, and everyone can just eat their hearts out that they aren’t you, or you just worked your ass off all day and you’re going to cook a ginormous dinner to get your ass back. People want to know that crap. But without a lot of embelishment.

Facebook is dynamic. You can chat on screen with your friends, no matter where they are (probably should refrain when one or both of you are driving, duh), if you happen to be on line at the same time with Facebook open. And there’s a little doodad in the lower right corner that will tell you who’s on line (crescent moon) or on Facebook (full moon), and you can open a dialog box and call them up. It’s kind of fun, except when you’re both trying to upload a comment at the same time. Then sometimes one of the comments just gets wasted into the ether of cyberspace. Also with Facebook you can paste a photo into your update so folks can see it without having to load another page.

Facebook offers many amusements. I kid you not. You can waste spend an entire day playing the games, taking the quizzes, and spamming everyone you know to play the games and take the quizzes, too. I take a few quizzes. I’ve learned a lot about myself. Like the movie star I’m most like is Kathryn Hepburn (hah, no brainer), my ideal car is a Bugatti Veyron (in my dreams, cause I’ll never be able to afford it), and my hippie name is Meadow Lotus Song. That’s all important stuff. And on Facebook you’re not limited to 140 characters.

If you want to save time in tweeting and updating, you can get Tweetdeck, which lets you send one update to both Twitter and Facebook — but you’re limited to Twitter rules for length. One neat thing Tweetdeck has is a URL abbreviator. There’s a line below the tweet box where you can paste a long URL. Then you just hit the “shorten” button and POOF, your link appears in your tweet without using up as many of those precious 140 characters. There are other “apps,” like Hootsuite, that let you do things like write a tweet in the middle of the night, but put a time stamp on it so it will appear during normal business hours. That’s not one I use — preferring to be asleep in the middle of the night. My brother has an app that lets him tweet from his blackberry. I’m so jealous.

Then there’s Delicious. This is a social bookmarking site. I don’t use it like that, but when I switched computers, I moved all my bookmarks from my iBook to Delicious, so that I can access them from this piece of crap PC. Normally, Delicious lets people share bookmarks and vote on the most popular on any given day. If you have a blog, and your pages get bookmarked on Delicious — a lot — you’ll get a lot more readers, which could turn into money in your pocket if you have ads on your blog that people click on, or if you sell something and a lot of people start buying.

I think anyone who can use a computer and the internet can learn to use Twitter and Facebook. And they’re handy. Easier than writing a letter, less expensive (read free) than a long distance phone call, more like a conversation than e-mail. Tryyyy it! You’ll liiiiike it!