she's just saying...

A mystery. With cupcakes.

I opened my front door this evening after running errands and found this note.

A surprise! I ran to my bbq. Here is what I found.

A dozen mouthwatering cupcakes by our local cupcake specialty baker! Wow!

Until I saw this:

Noooo!

What to do? Wish Victoria a happy birthday and thoroughly enjoy her cupcakes? Or do the right thing?

I believe in cupcake karma, and knew what I must do. This being 2011, I didn't even try the phone book, but instantly found the well-wishers on Facebook. I messaged them about their error and am awaiting their reply.

Luckily for Victoria, Henry is at a sleep-over tonight.

They'd better be quick. There's a red velvet one in there calling my name.

Electrocuting the dog in order to save her

The ceremonial flags of invisibility

We're all suffering through training the new dog, Bindi, on the Invisible Fence system at home. This is the buried electrical wire that surrounds the property that gives the dog a shock if she crosses it wearing a special radio collar. It's a painful process, and the dog doesn't like it either.

My previous dog Flash was an OCD border collie who got it instantly and learned how to game the system brilliantly. He would test the battery and escape when it got weak. He knew that snow would cover the wire enough that he could run out and play in the street. And he especially enjoyed charging full speed up to the edge at passers-by, freaking them out before he stopped and began turning in demented circles. I'd hear random screams and run out to reassure people that he wouldn't cross the invisible line to attack them. We became known as the house with the spinning dog - I can actually reference that to describe where we live still.

Back to Bindi. Part of the training steps include teaching her how to actually leave the property when you want her to, for example for her daily walk. She has to learn that if she leaves via the front walk on a special command (and you don't forget to remove the collar), she won't get shocked. It's a subtle nuance that depends on a great deal of trust on the dog's part and resolve on the owner's. It takes awhile to get to that step, so until we do, we have to actually drive her out of the property to leave. So, at 6 am this morning, I could be seen in my pajamas and coffee, driving the dog for a walk.

The containment system works well except for a dog with a "high drive" as the trainer put it. In other words, a hunting dog who watches for squirrels across the street all day (Bindi). There are a few breeds who have no problem charging through the shock field, yelping as they go, while hot on the trail of a squirrel, dog or bird. We have yet to see if she's one of them.

At first it can seem like a cruel training approach, but given that we live on a busy neighborhood intersection filled with dog-walkers, skateboarders, cats, kids, squirrels and other enticing attractions, it's a necessity if we want her to hang out with us in the yard. She seems to be catching on to the flags = shock thing very quickly, and eventually we'll be able to take down the flags, go for walks and enjoy the summer outside. For right now though, we're all prisoners of the system.

I'm sure I could attempt a metaphor here about the invisible fences that hold us all in, how we have to deal with the shocks life brings and endure some pain to move beyond our limitations etc., but luckily this is not that kind of blog, so I'll spare you. I know you're thanking me.

Avenging the Great Hamster

Hamsters everywhere breathed a sign of relief this week.

From the New York Times, By STEVEN ERLANGER

PARIS — France was punished on Thursday for not taking proper care of its hamsters.

The Court of Justice in Luxembourg, the European Union’s highest court, ruled Thursday that France had failed to protect the Great Hamster of Alsace, sometimes known as the European hamster, the last wild hamster species in Western Europe. If France does not adjust its agricultural and urbanization policies sufficiently to protect it, the court said, the government will be subject to fines of as much as $24.6 million.

The Great Hamster, which can grow up to 10 inches long, has a brown-and-white face, white paws and a black belly. There are thought to be about 800 left in France, with burrows in Alsace along the Rhine. That is an improvement: the number had dropped to fewer than 200 four years ago, according to figures from the European Commission, which brought the lawsuit in 2009.

The Great Hamster likes grass and crops like alfalfa, but these have largely been replaced by corn, which is not ripe in the spring when the hamster awakens from six months of hibernation, eager to eat and mate. It must make longer and more hazardous journeys as its grazing area shrinks because of new highways and housing developments.

 

Becoming the church lady

In the religion section of online dating surveys (so I've been told) there's a popular answer option of "spiritual but not religious." I need the opposite: "religious but not spiritual."

I'll say it right up front here: I'm not a Christian. I don't actually believe in a God. But I do go to church, every week, and I have on and off for most of my life. I've attended the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Central Oregon as a member for fifteen years. As we say in the opening words, it's "a place of solace, comfort and community" offering "encouragement to pursue your spiritual journey." Sounds a little whoo-whoo, but if you know Unitarians, it's really not.

I won't go into UU beliefs and principles; it's all here if you're interested. Suffice to say that it's a religion that embraces diversity in all ways. We have a minister, we light candles and sing hymns. We hold Sunday school and bake sales and talent shows. It feels "churchy." We just don't all adhere to the same dogma.

I grew up as a Unitarian, which is fairly unusual in UU congregations. Most members are lapsed something-elses. So for me there's an additional layer of familiarity and connection on top of the fellowship and spiritual fulfillment I receive. And now I've morphed into my parents: I've joined the Church Board.

Up til recently, I was uncomfortable telling people I go to church and I'm involved in church activities. I sensed a change in the way my co-workers and acquaintances assessed me. I'd fight the urge to clarify: "I'm not religious - I'm not even Christian - I'm really a Buddhist. It's a liberal fellowship that..." blah blah.

But I've begun to enjoy watching people reconcile what they know of me and their image of a faithful churchgoer. I relish privately the irony that they are probably so much more "religious" than me, if that's defined in a traditional narrow sense of being a believing Christian. Often, they'll rush to make excuses for why they don't go anymore, as if I might be judging them.

It's a little perverse to be a faithful church-going atheist (which is possibly one of the reasons I am). But just like so many other families, the church has become an important part of our social and spiritual life. Though Unitarians strenuously don't prostheletize, if you're interested in going with me one of these days, just let me know. There are many ways to be religulous, as the movie says.

I made dirt!

Rich, loamy (great word), homemade dirt. I finally cleared out the bottom of the composter and discovered a few things. Eggshells never decompose (or at least within three years), nor do corncobs, pine needles, plastic bags or pieces of clay pots. I found my worms which was very exciting, and a few random glass marbles from that unfortunate compost-diving episode.

                              Bindi on squirrel-watch

 

Three wheelbarrowfuls later, my vegetable beds were ready for that perennial exercise in hope, planting seeds. I'm participating in my annual attempt to grow arugula, which consists of throwing $3.99 worth of seeds to the wind and going down to the farm stand to buy a few bunches. What can I say? It's summer!*

*today's Bulletin headline: "Temperatures may break 70 Thursday." June in Central Oregon...