OT: Crib Notes - for the irish in all of us

More horse news soon, but in the meantime:

Erin Go Bragh and Pass The Green Salsa

There are not too many places on earth where the sound of bagpipes mixes with the roar of low riders and smell of fresh tortillas.

My neighborhood was one of those places.

We lived across the street from Bel Air high school stadium in El Paso, Texas. El Paso is a border town, ninety percent Hispanic (in our neighborhood, it was closer to 98%), making the high school's choice of the Highland er as a mascot so bizarre; I can't quite fathom how it could ever have occurred. Did a rogue Scott take over the school board at an opportune moment? Were the distant mountains an inspiration of "high land"? Were darts involved?

Whatever the reason, the Highlanders had become a formidable football team, and at every game, in addition to the huge marching band, were a dozen bagpipes in full regalia. A dedicated and gifted band director (what else would you call a guy who could teach Sousa AND Irish battle songs?) held practice for the bagpipers at six in the morning. Since there is no volume control on a bagpipe, no one learns this instrument indoors.

On the cool desert mornings every fall, the bagpipe division of girls (because in those days no Hispanic boy would be caught DEAD in a kilt) would fill their plaid bags with air and the cry of the bagpipes would climb above the desert floor. The sound would bounce off the concrete stadium and enter with full intensity into my bedroom.

I'd feel the strain of the notes; at first interrupted so often that it was more like a chorus of demented car horns than music. But slowly the band director would coax the songs free from the breath of the girls who'd listen to rock music on the way home from school, cruising in low and slow Chevys and Fords.

I'd wake up from my confused dreams, trying to figure out why in my sleep I was bounding through rolling green hills when I lived my waking life amid yucca and sand. The bagpipes would pull a yearning from me for a place I'd never seen, yet who's music slipped into my childhood like a lost leprechaun wandering into a circle of mariachis.

In a few days I'll be scrambling for green shirts and hats for my kids. I wonder about the bagpipe band alumni. Are those bagpipers now mommies with little leprechauns of their own? Do they have the same misplaced sense of nostalgia every St. Patrick's Day? Do they tell their children about the days with the warm bag at their side, the pipes in their fingers? Are there bagpipes tucked into the attic, waiting for the next generation of players?

Do they secretly consider themselves descendants of a lost tribe of Celtic warrior princesses?

Okay, that was probably just me.

So this St. Patty's Day we'll wear green bowler hats complete with shiny foil shamrock and reminisce about the days of bagpipes and yucca plants. Erin Go Bragh and pass the green salsa!

Crib Notes - The Perils of Chlorine

It's been a while since I posted from my Crib Notes column regularly. Just in case you've missed them, here's one!

 

Chlorine Makes An Early Entrance    

 

Chlorine is back.

It just took one day of temperatures over 85 for it to tangle its chemical fingers back into my life. It does this every warm spring, try to slip in before summer, before I have my game plan in place.

When I was a kid we were friends, chlorine and I. We hung out all Summer,  and slowly chlorine destroyed the elastic of my swimsuit and ate through my towel. It was worth it. I was young, elastic was over-rated , and thin, holey towels were the official flag of a successful Summer.

Now it’s different. And it’s not about the towels or the elastic. It’s not about the concern about what chlorine is doing to our skin since its job is kill more things in the water than I want to think about.

It’s about the hair.

I always counted myself lucky to have dark hair that was safe from the green tinge you foisted upon my fair-headed friends. I had no idea a worse danger lurked.

Curly hair.

Keep in mind I spent many a night during my pregnancy wishing that our second little bundle of joy would be born with her dad’s curls and not my straight hair. Sure enough, sense of humor soundly intact, the good Lord gifted Mireya with a riot of curls. Curls so springy they attract attention anywhere she goes.

It took just a few years for me to realize that this was how I was going to be taught the value of patience. Still it seemed worth it – until the first chlorine attack.

Add a little chlorine and terrible, terrible things happen to Mireya’s hair. Curly hair, which is already an adventure around here, turns vicious when joined with chlorine. It mats up instantaneously, becoming utterly un-comb-able.  No amount of conditioner can slick it into submission once chlorine has its death grip on each of the 5 million twisting hair shafts.  In no time Mireya looks like she should be singing lead in a Reggae band, dread locks scattered all over her head. Let me tell you, “dread” is the right word.

This time we’ve got our game plan. It involves  everything from buying a swim cap to slicking her down with half a bottle of conditioner before she’s allowed to get within five feet of chlorine. Still I know that when suddenly someone just jumps in the pool and we’ll be back to the tub, spending our evening coming out mats that inspire thoughts of buzz hair cuts.

Still, at least we’re prepared. I bought a case of conditioner and, as a back up, I’m teaching Mireya all the words to Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up.”

Just in case.

I Need Your Vacation Input - Off Topic

Enough is enough, ya know? We've decided that we need a vacation this August. I've got enough miles on Southwest airlines to score a free ticket for each one of us, but the only question is where? What's a good place to go on vacation in August? Here is my criteria:

Cooler than Texas in August. (Sorry Phoenix!)
Lots of natural spaces.
Relatively reasonably priced for a vacation in terms of lodging. (I'm thinking this leaves out San Francisco and Lake Tahoe)
Somewhere Southwest flies (which is actually just about everywhere.)

Any ideas?

News - your prayers, if you've got them...

I've added a new page on the top. It's called Mighty Heart. There's some news there that will be a big focus for us for the next month and, possibly, much longer

I'm trying to decide where to post updates on this to folks who will want to know what's happening since I do try to keep this "horsecentric."

Do I post them on Crib Notes or forget that I'm working a theme here?

Your thoughts on the matter are welcome, my friends.

Off Topic - Crib Notes Mega Monday

Some Mondays are more Monday than other Mondays.

Some Mondays you carefully plan your entire day to make it to an appointment in San Antonio and arrive five minutes early! That is, five minutes early for the time you carefully wrote down. Which is the wrong time. The one hour wrong time.

I tried to think of myself as only 55 minutes late, but it was cold comfort on the long drive back home.

My fate Monday was sealed early on. Right around 4:30 am I glanced at the clock and noted that yes, the alarm was set, and yes, I had another hour and a half to sleep.

Unfortunately ignorance is sleep inducing. My dreams were so optimistic, consisting of all the things I was going to get done later in the day. I felt positively productive when I woke up, until I glanced over and realized I was an hour behind, because although my alarm had gone off, it had done so silently.

Only I would keep an alarm that goes off silently. Granted, it isn’t designed to go off silently, but it has a sticky button that every now and then changes the volume from dream shattering to dream extending. I keep thinking I’ll remember to double check it and it won’t be a problem.

And now it won’t be. That clock is off to a nice big land fill.

Mireya got a tardy slip at school, the first day they were giving them out. She gave me that look as she took possession of the slip. That “you have totally ruined my reputation with the new principal” look. I encouraged her to have a good day despite the rocky start. She refrained from rolling her eyes, but just barely.

The spirit of Mega Monday continued. I tried to drop off books to donate at the library. The box they were in was falling apart, but after some careful stacking I managed to struggle over to the Friends of the Library store doorway. Only to find that the Friends of the Library are closed on Mondays.

Smart cookies, those Friends of the Library.

I managed to get my books back to the truck without dropping them on my foot. Some times fate has a little bit of sympathy. Not enough sympathy to keep the other box from falling over when I opened the door, but enough to keep everything really heavy inside the truck.

All I can say is thank goodness it’s Thursday. 

(Do you enjoy these? The ebook collection will be out in a month! )

Off Topic - Crib Notes - Attack of the Giant Ball

And now for something completely different. From my Weekly Column...

I had a friend once who always showed up at kids’ birthday parties with one present - a large ball. I knew she was on a budget, but still – a ball?

I’m here to tell you at every party it was a huge hit and it was all you could do to get the kid back to open up the other presents. I was shocked every time. Not one to be swayed by reality when faced with mommy peer pressure, I never had the courage to show up at a party with just a very large ball. But I never forgot how fun it was.

With summer insisting we all get our sunscreen on and hit the pool, the kids decided to break out their own very large ball. Very, very large – in fact it’s a GIANT inflatable ball, easily four feet in diameter and after nearly sending three of us to the hospital for oxygen, we blew it up to spherical perfection at the neighborhood pool.

Endlessly entertaining, the ridiculously large ball played the part of a slippery island, a monster, a bomb, and, at one moment, a way to conk your sister when she was becoming obnoxious.

Even a ball has its dark moments, I suppose.

When it was time to pile into the car we discovered that the ball, which had traveled to the neighborhood pool mostly deflated, was now far too large to fit in the car with passengers. This particular fact of geometry did not dissuade Sierra, who at 12 has a little bit of a stubborn streak (where could she have gotten that from?).

She squeezed herself and the giant ball into the front seat but discovered she was pinned in place and couldn’t reach the door handle, let alone close the door.

“Move the seat back! Move the seat back!” her sister shouted from the back seat.

“It’s already all the way back!” she shouted back, her voice muffled by the ball.

“Tilt the seat!”

Sierra moved slightly, the plastic of the ball squeaking in protest against the dashboard. No go.

“Why don’t you just deflate it a little?” I said between laughs.

Both children looked at me as if I was crazy. Hadn’t we nearly died blowing it up to the absolute perfect level of plumpness?

There was no way… well,… around it. We pulled the plug and let out some of our last gasps - and laughed all the way home, having had a “ball.”

Giant inflatable ball - definitely on my next gift list.

Off topic - health care

(this is the doctor from star trek, for those of you spared from sci fi geekness)

In my non horse time, I work in politics for a trade association (not the AMA).

Love it, love my job, even though it's not on horseback (darn laptop keeps slipping off during trots). So I found this little thing darn amusing:

The American Medical Association has weighed in on the new healthcare package.

The Allergists voted to scratch it, but the Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.

The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, but the Neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.

The Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.

The Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted.

The Pathologists yelled, "Over my dead body!"

The Pediatricians said, 'Oh, grow up!'

The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness.

The Radiologists could see right through it.

The Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing.

The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow, and the Plastic Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter."

The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the Urologists were pissed off at the whole idea.

The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas, and the Cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no.

In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the entire decision up to the assholes in Washington .

Incredible story on Lytha's blog

Go there now and read about her incredible story of her Arabian falling through a bridge in Germany this week - and surviving.

Amazing. 

Curly Hair

Here I go, off topic. But since the wind kept me inside, I had a chance to make a movie of Mireya's first hair cut.

Mireya has crazy curly hair.

No, seriously. Like INSANELY curly.

So I was nervous to get here hair cut, because everyone with curly hair says it's impossible to cut. As a result she had these long bits and short bits, and wild bits everywhere.

It was time.

It was past time, actually.

Here's the video.

Off topic - skunks

Warning, there are no horses in this post. only a skunk.

I write about kids on my other blog - but recently had an encounter with a skunk reminded me of how companies deal with wildlife concerns. Here's the story and a follow up (thanks, Cynthia!). Since writing this I've learned General Mills has done NOTHING to deal with the problem of skunks dying with their garbage on their heads. Don't eat Yoplait yogurt. Send a note to these folks that you won't be back until they really fix the problem. Spread the word on your blogs too.

In 1999 they had met with groups to "try to solve the problem." They printed "please crush your can" on the container. Maybe with enough negative attention they'll do more.

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Raising a Stink

Nothing says Daddy at our house like a wildlife encounter. The father of my children has what I consider an over developed need to bother animals that have the terrible misfortune of being spotted.

A few weeks ago we were at a friends ranch and the kids ran in screaming about the snake in the window. It was curled up safely on the other side of the screen, digesting a mouse.

So of course my husband had to extricate it, creating more screaming, then demonstrate the correct holding technique, point out the mousey lump in its belly, and generally ruin the snake’s day. This is the fourth snake to enter the wildlife legend collection which also includes two fawns, a buffalo, a hawk, many bees, and the all time favorite – a skunk.

(this child in the photo is in the UK and a clear inspiration for my husband)

In fact, the very favorite story our daughters like to tell their friends is the-time-daddy-was-sprayed-by-a-skunk story. It’s been such a popular story I’m surprised they haven’t written a song about it, complete with lyrics like

“He just had to go and see what that noise could be,” and

“Three days are really long when you smell pretty strong.”

But this weekend we had a new skunk story. Sierra was up early with her friend Cammie, who had stayed overnight. Along with Mireya they’d created a haunted house the night before complete with a zombie (a broken Spiderman piñata wrapped in toilet tissue and splattered with red food dye). So they were especially attuned to scary noises.

Like the sound of a skunk with a can stuck on its head at 6 am.

“Mommy! There’s a skunk outside and it’s got a can on its head! It’s going to DIE!”

Sure enough a skunk, undoubtedly the one that has sprayed our dogs more than once, was wandering the yard with a yogurt container stuck on its tiny head. We ran outside to…

This was where I paused to consider my options. I was driving the kids to Marble Falls in a few hours, and if I got sprayed it was going to be a looong trip. So, wisely, we woke up our wildlife handler, who, with a plastic raincoat and thick gloves actually picked up the skunk, yanked off the yogurt container and stood there in ideal spraying range.

I prayed I was up wind.

The skunk blinked a few times, then calmly left, tail down in appreciation.

So cut up those yogurt cans, folks. But keep your skunk handler on standby.



By the way, this is a real issue. Boycott Yoplait, they don't give a darn about fixing the problem:
Activists raise stink for 'skunk safe' yogurt
By Andrew Quinn

SAN FRANCISCO July 17 (Reuters) - Your tuna sandwich may not be hurting the dolphins, but is your yogurt skunk safe?

In a new campaign, a California animal rights group has declared that Yoplait brand yogurt containers are leading to the agonizing deaths of skunks across the country.

"Thousands of skunks and other wildlife are dying in yogurt containers," Camilla Fox of the Sacramento, California-based Animal Protection Institute said Friday.

"They jam their heads in as they are looking for yogurt and then get trapped."

The stink over skunk-safe yogurt follows earlier campaigns for dolphin-safe tuna, in which animal rights activists targeted tuna fishing nets they said were responsible for the needless deaths of dolphins.

Fox said Yoplait, with its distinctive tapered container, is equally deadly for skunks.

"They are attracted to the smell of the yogurt, and wedge their heads into the container," she said. "When they try to pull out, the rim that curves in acts as a locking mechanism against the animal's fur.

"Because they have short legs, they are unable to push against the container to extricate themselves."

Fox said the skunks, locked in a Yoplait helmet they cannot remove, are blinded and frequently die of suffocation.

"They bump around, they get run over by cars, and they obviously are easy prey," Fox said. "It is a fairly brutal death. One they don't deserve."


Officials at General Mills Inc , the maker of Yoplait, say they have been taking the problem seriously enough to mount rigorous design tests in which they stuff fake skunk heads made of foam into different prototype containers.

Larry Sawyer, General Mills' Director of Government Relations, was not available to comment Friday. But he told the San Jose Mercury News the company was trying to help.

"It is a problem," he said. "We're working on a solution."

Over the next several weeks, a new, "skunk friendlier" Yoplait container with a warning to consumers and a special ridge at the bottom to help skunks extricate themselves will hit supermarket shelves. But the familiar tapered design will stay because it makes the brand recognizable, Sawyer said.

Fox and other skunk advocates say this is not enough, and are encouraging consumers to write to General Mills president Steve Sanger to demand a total container revamp.

"We are trying to negotiate with them," Fox said. "We want to talk more before we call for a boycott."

Donna Backus, a Massachusetts wildlife rehabilitator who was one of the first to identify the Yoplait threat to skunks, says General Mills officials simply do not understand how dangerous the containers can be.

"I'd like to put a huge Yoplait container on the CEO of General Mills and set him out loose on the streets of New York," Backus told the Mercury News.

Copyright 1998 Reuters Limited.