Pitbull Thing

I had to post the newest news on the pitbull situation, as a subpoena came to our house this week, via the Sheriff's department with a date set for the first week of June...
From the Manhattan Mercury newspaper:

May 20, 2008 6:00 PM
Pott Co to look at dogs

A recent attack on a farmer by a pair of dogs has Pottawatomie County commissioners considering an ordinance to regulate the harboring of vicious dogs.
Commissioners Monday asked county counselor Gary Conklin to research the subject, citing an April 21 attack by two dogs on Dennis Peterson near Onaga Road about 5 1/2 miles north of U.S. Highway 24.
"One of them was a pit bull and (Peterson) almost lost his life because of it," said Commissioner Stan Hartwich in regard to the attack. "I know it's going to be a hot topic with some folks, but I think people ought to be able to walk, run or ride their bicycles — or plow — without fear of being attacked."
As a result of the incident, two charges have been filed against Kevin Sellers, owner of the dogs, according to Sherri Schuck, county attorney: permitting a dangerous animal to be at large (a Class B misdemeanor) and animal nuisance (county resolution/Class C misdemeanor).
"The dogs remain confined and will likely stay that way until disposition of the case," Schuck said Monday.
The incident occurred in the vicinity of the intersection of Onaga Road and Indian Village Road, according to Greg Riat, Pott County sheriff.
Peterson was working a field near the Sellers residence and was attacked after he momentarily left his tractor. He sustained numerous dog bites from the attack, according to reports.
"It came real close to being a really terrible situation," Hartwich said. "If the owner hadn't got there and got them called off, I think the guy would have been dead."
There has been an increase in the number of dog bites investigated by the Pott County Health Department in the past two years, according to director Leslie Campbell.
In 2006, the health department investigated 14 dog bites, and there were 27 incidents investigated in 2007. Through April of 2008, four dog bite incidents have been investigated.
Campbell emphasized, however, that not all of the dog bite incidents were from vicious animals.

Tribute to Mrs. Johnson

Dan, a seemingly quiet, yet adventurous teen, quite possibly had partaken in an incident that revolved around stolen beer. Dan, when confronted by the law, grew instantly fearful when his mother declared to the officer: “TAKE HIM AWAY!”

I can imagine the scene with amusement (from the kid's point of view-yikes--don't ask; AND the mom's) and have to say at this stage in my life, “You go Girl!”

Mentioning at work long ago that I had called the police on my own son, I was met with disapproving looks from some adults and admiration from others. There are so many ways that parents handle (or don't handle) situations—you just have to do what you think will work at any given time. In this case I had a teen that was way bigger than my 5'1” and didn't want to conform to my rule: 'Bedroom door stays OPEN if you have a girl over' and we'd been discussing this quite heatedly for several days. In exasperation I decided that I would just remove the door off it's hinges and marched upstairs, tools in hand. I can't quite remember if I got pushed, was about to be pushed, or if my arm was grabbed, but that was it!

“You're going to your dad's to cool down!” I declared, then instantly realized that there would be no physical way I could force him to obey. The smirk said everything, it was aggravating and this was a situation that could easily grow out of hand in the future so... “I am calling the cops!” I went downstairs and proceeded to do so, going outside to wait. He followed me to the front yard in disbelief and sure enough, here came the car.

As a single mom, I was angry, hurt, and fed up with disrespectful attitudes, especially when I felt that I had always tried to do the best for my children. However, the look on his face just about crushed me and I came so close to caving in... His eyes filled with tears; he started to beg, but I just turned to the policeman and said something along this line: 'this young man needs to cool off and we need some space RIGHT NOW. Could you please take him over to his dad's 'cause I can't do it...' The policeman must of noticed we both looked distressed, because he didn't ask any questions-- just told my son to get in and they left....and left me standing there bawling my head off in guilt and agony—how could a mom who loved her son do such a thing?!
I felt horrible and can still see his face in my mind, but to this day I feel it prevented further feuds and the whole teen anxiety/stress thing seemed to dissolve after that.

Some parents feel that calling the police is too radical and they handle their discipline at home or 'in house'. We've had a mom or two, when questioning whether her child had partaken in some illegal substance, go straight down the the police station for some tests... I can imagine the confessing begins before they even get in the car!
And I just read about the parents that called the police on their son when they found chemicals delivered to their home and a journal with plans to blow up his school... Some parents, in their blindness, would have pooh-poohed that situation with a ridiculous 'boys will be boys' comment or something equally inane.... unfortunately, there are way too many parents that are raising 'perfect angels that can do no wrong'!

Anyway...that Dan boy probably had it coming...hmmm...probably had a LOT of similar fun times in that day and age... I guess some people are lucky and don't always get caught!

Genetically Engineered

I read this statement (in italics) this morning and my daughter tends to agree...(there is so much 'misinformation' printed on the islands that her fellow workers have been jumped and beaten): “I’ve been told that people in Hawaii aren’t educated enough to make an informed decision if GE foods were to be labeled. This is another way of saying that the people of Hawaii are stupid and that they don’t deserve a choice. Biotech companies should step up to the plate and realize that it’s their responsibility to convince us that their products should be chosen over their organic or conventional counterparts....”

Her company does send out awesome email newsletters and info about their GE research but perhaps they need to do even more if they want to educate people and gain trust ... I love to read their articles; the business is fascinating and extremely controlled and regulated. If fact nearly every seed is accounted for and documented.
Bail was sent to LA this week where she visited the 'taj mahal' of plant research-- where a 5 gal bucket of seed may be worth anywhere from $65,000 to 2 million dollars. She had a great time, the 'inventions' are awesome; she even saw a highschool buddy in Malibu; the low point was the horrid traffic. In a couple weeks, they'll send her to Iowa again...
We talked some more this morning on the wonders of plant research/development (the farmers I know always want to hear what she's up to), and she said that if she was able to take a bite out of a raw ear of corn in the field, she would-- just to obtain its “Superpowers”! (Again—gotta count all those kernels and report them. We laughed on her 'supposed genetic alteration'--perhaps she'd become mosquito 'repellent' or never have to drink water again, that or roots would grow out of her butt!)

I guess I am pro “GE”--I was telling her about the Guatemalans growing corn on horribly steep mountainsides or anywhere there were a few inches of obtainable space. How they managed to plant a seed here and there was beyond me—almost looked like they'd have to let themselves down by rope...attached from a tree up above. Rich beauty and devastating poverty side by side...a few weeks after we left that village, it was buried under a massive mudslide. (another topic)...but back to the steep mountainsides...
Mentioning this, Bail told me to check out the Canadian research team that was splicing goats with orb-weaving spiders... I told her I'd look it up since I had watched a scientific show on spiderweb strength last month...
here goes:
The 5 Current Genetic Experiments Most Likely to Destroy Humanity
#1. Spider-Goats http://www.cracked.com/article_15801_p5.html

Which leads me to ANOTHER blog topic.... I read that BLOGS are so popular because there isn't any good TV anymore. (That was uh good sentence!) I bet for the last 2 weeks, my son and I have grappled (that rhymes with apple, not grape) over the laptop, virtually ignoring the TV altogether—sometimes it's not even turned ON.... our brain cells are duplicating at enormous rates without TV...the influence of google has triplicated our intelligence.... I mean, GEEZ... “The Girls Next Door” on TV, or www.cracked.com? Nah...ha ha ha ha ha! I guess it all depends on your mood—mindless entertainment...or insightful contemplation...?!

THE STORY OF HYACINTH AND APOLLO

While the FACS class was cooking up some pancakes, (I HATE the smell of pancakes), I overheard some student conversation and had to stop and tell them the story of Prometheus; before that we'd gone over Narcissus. Tonight I was searching google for Poe stories, reading Rosetti's Goblin Market, and somehow ended up with this poem. I feel like my life has been a series of coincidences lately...and I am too lazy to write, and somehow I feel like I might be WRONG about a flower having a face....! I hate it when I'm wrong. Must look up crocuses now. ;(

THE CHILD, THE SUN, AND THE WIND

IT chanced upon a summer's day,
Within a deep wood far away,
There wandered forth a little child
Midst flowers and birds and breezes wild.
Now running here, now resting there,
As bright, as light, as free as air,
The happy little Hyacinth strayed,
From flower to flower, by sun and shade.

A wind called Zephyr saw him pass
With skipping feet across the grass,
And ran before and clung behind,
And strove his tripping feet to bind.

Because the Zephyr loved him so,
He would not let that fair child go,
But kept beseeching, "Stay, and be
A little playfellow to me!"

Still Hyacinth had naught to say,
Nor would he with the Zephyr stay,
But skipped aside and left the wind
Another playfellow to find.

And next the sun up in the air
Caught sight of Hyacinth's shining hair,
As Hyacinth ran the tall trees under,
And King Apollo paused in wonder.

"Stop! Hyacinth," cried King Apollo,
"You run too quick for me to follow;
One little minute wait for me,
And I your playfellow will be."

Because Apollo from the blue
Had fallen in love with Hyacinth too,
So down he came with smiling face
And stayed upon a mossy place.

There sun and child in merry play
Sported full many an hour away,
"Who can throw farthest, you or I?
This ring I'll cast, then you shall try."

But Zephyr, creeping round about,
Spied their pleasant pastime out,
Which made him angry feel and sore,
And he grew angrier more and more,

Until a cruel purpose grew,
And he determined what to do;
His wicked will at once consenting
Unto the crime of his inventing.

For as the King, in act to fling,
Raised high in air the iron ring,
Zephyr ran and took his stand
Just underneath Apollo's hand.

Thence blew the ring back swift and straight,
Steady and strong with all its weight,
So that it struck on Hyacinth's head,
And lo! the pretty child fell dead!

Then all about the leafy wood
There streamed out Hyacinth's purple blood,
Which wrote in letters sad and plain,
"Woe! Woe! for Hyacinth is slain!"

Back to the sky Apollo flew,
And far away the Zephyr blew;
But on the ground where Hyacinth died
Sweet flowers grew and multiplied.

Hyacinths that, with happy faces,
Still beautify earth's lonely places,
Loved by the sun and breezes wild,
In memory of the winsome child.

Es tut mir leid...

Bailey is flying to Los Angeles soon for company meetings...I informed her that not only did the cat approach the porch today, it let me pull off one if its hideous hunks of fur. Not that I wanted to; gag. The poor creature. But if I'd of been using my head, I would have written the sign auf Deutsch--not only can it read, but is it bilingual?! This may become a running joke, as she thought I should now try leaving it some messages around the yard...

I think I may have to make yet another blog--for family items, as I am getting all jumbly again and this page is becoming more diary-like, instead of pathetiprofessional. New word for a pathetic attempt to write like I might know sumpthin.

I have a cop friend that called this afternoon wanting to know if I'd written anymore bizarre stories this year or if I had suffered any freaky experiences for 'new influences'. Unfortunately no. I mean fortunately no! Stalkerman moved (had to move) out of the neighborhood; messiah man hasn't been kneeling in my house; "Why, I should just write about the whacked-out woman YOU had last year", I told him. Then he tells me he met a new gal last week and she turned out to be a total nut-job. Can't wait to hear more about that!
I'm beginning to wonder...is that all that's out there? I know it isn't so; those of us that are mostly normal must have a teensy part of us that remains frozen in relationship fear...
Tired and sunburnt. Going to bed.

Vegetarian Chickens, Tears, and Literate Cats

I had already cried a few tears this morning, so when my daughter called this afternoon, I could detect the stress in her voice and though she was trying to be noncommittal at first: “Mom, I'm so tired...I want to quit my job...I just want to be an artist. And a beauty queen.”, She was going for humor, but I could tell she needed some motherly comfort and goodwill. We can pretty much laugh and cry at the same time...horrendous work hours with no days off—she'd just about had it. We tried to focus on the weeks ahead; I shared that I'd had tears all week on and off and apparently so had she... Hers due to nonstop fieldwork, paperwork, government regulations, and virtually no time with her fiance; mine—well, it seems whenever I drive anywhere this week the tears just stream. 'I was only driving across town,' I told her, 'and the thought struck me that grandpa wouldn't see my little Bailey get married.' She was his special little girl and they were so close...he would have been so proud. She shares that she 'wanted all the men to wear a certain lei during the ceremony...and grandpa wouldn't be there to place it about his neck.' (This was about the time of year when we learned that he was going to die. That my dad, the health nut, the marathon runner, the reader, the worker, the man that could fix anything, the patient man, the quiet man, the dependable man, the man that just retired and was finally, finally going to do all the things he wanted to do...was really going to die, and worse, it would be the most painful thing he could endure.) So naturally we choked up for a while (though I didn't include the other thoughts from days ago...that he didn't get to go to Tegan's college graduation, nor hear the exciting submarine stories that occurred on the Pacific Tour—he would have loved that and again, would have been so proud. That I often thought of how painful it was for him, the first week of May, to attend one of Brigham's trackmeets on a good day and hear his name called as he broke 4 records, gripping his stopwatch; his legs crossed in agony; proud nonetheless. And I bawl as I type this, thinking of my mom and how much she dearly misses him—her loss and longing is inconsolable).
But we weave our conversation in and out among other things...a new gorgeous fishing spot, seeing a naked man on the beach...etc.
She talks of darling Arthur, the tiny fluffball chick and how he, the runt of the litter, was her special little guy..teenier than the rest of the bunch, she only cared about him because he refused the little insects and mealy worms, preferring to race towards her, squawking and scrambling to drive his beak into the fresh papaya and banana that she offered. I'm laughing, thinking of the other chicken that fell in love with her, when she mentions that she felt bad because they hadn't noticed that a human hair had wound itself tightly about Arthur's toes. It must have been there for a few days, cutting off his circulation as he quickly grew, because she then noticed he didn't come racing towards her—oh dear, trepidation and dismay. He willingly ate his fresh fruit, but the next day couldn't move at all and was lying over. They'd tried antiseptic ointment after the hair removal (yes, I was giggling), but alas, it did no good. Nate took Arthur away today to end his misery. 'Mom! It was one of MY HAIRS that killed him! My favorite chick!' I was extremely compassionate but had to keep apologizing for laughing, but I couldn't stop—some mother I am!
I told her I was a horrible person; that I'd asked Brig's friend to shoot the cat; I'd hire him as a hitman if he'd do it when we weren't home and not tell me afterward. 1 bullet to the head=no suffering. It's a lovely fluffy cat in winter, but has the oddest hair we've ever seen: it mats itself into 2 inch thick felted clumps which hang roughly until they tear away. It does not have mange, but seeing what looks like a zombie cat scrunching around must surely scare the neighbors! It's sheer misery and nothing helps— no brush, nor scissors--just gradually peeling back the pelt like a sheep to expose nice new hair underneath. WEIRD.
Well, after I 'hired my hitman', I didn't see the cat for days, so assuming the deed had been finalized, I felt terribly guilty when it didn't show up for food. THEN I SAW IT! Or it saw ME! That cat turned and TORE across the yard to get away from me. 'I was shocked,' I told Bail, 'I was always nice to kitty—it HAD to have heard me and understood.' It still will not come near me and races away. Now it was Bailey's turn to laugh at me (though I still swear animals instinctively KNOW) and she tells me 'that there is no way the cat knows, but if you put up a sign and the cat READS it, then I will believe you! Ha ha! So here is the sign. If kitty lets me pet it in the morning, then cats not only have 9 lives but are literate too!
I'm not even going to start on the tears from this morning, but the above phone call helped! and sorry for this blog.

Catching Phrases

Yesterday I grabbed a John Irving book that Bail had left here—-an item to read while I waited during my mom's colonoscopy. I'd taken off work-- highly unusual. Lately I've been 'taken' with phrases and I am sure that the nurses wondered what the heck was so mirthful behind the curtained partition...I was trying NOT to laugh aloud, but surely you can relate...we've all dealt with this: talking to someone incredibly boring or repetitive, listening to someone impossibly incompatible with your tastes, (yawn) trying to maintain politeness, wondering how to get away... You all know what I mean! And then the book's scene--a teen-age boy embarrassed by his doddardly father that continuously puts his students to sleep; and the line...
“as if stricken by a passing coma....”

I'm sorry, but it just struck me as hilarious... can one imagine using that line out loud? “Pardon me, what'd you say? I was stricken by a passing coma...”

That seems like I'm mean, but c'mon--the corner of your mouth had to of turned upward!

and today in class I had to quell my laughter...I just happened to read the phrase off the Internet regarding men's compliments towards women or girls. (I prefer girls, as it maintains perpetual youth!): "flattering, insincere slickster”! Ha ha!
Eeek! We had one of those that used to walk around our building occasionally. A real 'slickster'-- Bryl-creamed, slick blackened hair, the roving bedroom eyes...us girls would just shudder and shiver—gross!--and giggle when he left—disgusting!-- He made you want to pick up all the imaginary clothes he'd stripped off your body and left puddled in a pile at our feet...!

COMPLIMENT defined: An expression of praise, admiration, or congratulation and a formal act of civility, courtesy, or respect.

Bar compliment: My eyebrows tend to raise when I hear “Whoa, BABY! !!You're lookin' HOT TONIGHT!”. (Screamed in your ear drum, of course.) If it catches you off guard and you can't step back fast enough, this is usually followed by a drunken arm around your waist or shoulder or someone lifting you up off the floor... This can be somewhat fairly amusing (or creepy), followed by the patient statement, “Oh really? ” as you make your way back to your friends. Though, now that I think about it, that probably is a VERY sincere compliment because the giver usually isn't in the position to think of anything cleverer than that, given his current state of inebriation! It becomes less ridiculous if the receiver of the compliment downs afew beers too—much better than the guys that sit around trying to smatter you with their woefully fake bullcrap!
I would recommend using compliments sparingly...only use REAL ones-- if you have to contrive one, most 'girls' can tell! As far as GIVING compliments: I've become braver in my old age—who cares!-- I WILL walk by someone and say “Gawd, I love your dredlocks” or “That's such a cool shirt!” because if they haven't impressed me, why would I notice?

At this point I could create an entire tome of false compliments; some of which I truly believed...however, this would lead to a story entitled 'Pet Peeves' or 'Liars' or ______. Hmmm. Can you tell we had an hour long TGIF at 3:45?
Which reminds me, as we were laughing about our day earlier...(and coincidentally Ballroom Blitz is playing on the radio), they are all curious to have Absinthe-- "So much fun you'll return stuff you never stole!" Ha ha--another funny phrase!