The Exam

As is a custom of the season, I spent the afternoon with my snot-nosed child at the pediatrician's office. Vitamin E was a little grumpy and apprehensive about the impending exam, so I was doing my best to reassure him that there would be no egregiously invasive procedures, long hospitalizations, or shots involved.

I walked him through what was going to happen. "Do you remember what a stethoscope is? Well the doctor will put it here to listen to your heart. Then he'll put the stethoscope on your back so he can listen to your breathing."

I pretended to examine his ears. I put my eyeball up to his nostril and peered up. He giggled uncontrollably.

To reciprocate, he tilted my head up and squinted into my nose.

His assessment:

"Mommy, your nose needs a haircut."

First Kisses

Annie Savoy: What do you believe in, then?

Crash Davis: Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. [pause] Crash Davis: Goodnight.

Annie Savoy: Oh my. Crash...

Ebby Calvin LaLoosh: Hey, Annie, what's all this molecule stuff?

- Bull Durham


First kisses should be rarified, mystical things. The first time you kiss somebody, you should feel the need for that kiss gathering like a layer of hot magma in the belly of a volcano. You are functioning and talking and listening but underneath it all is a mantra that says kiss her kiss her kiss her for the love of God kiss her!

You can work up to it all night or it can just catch you in an instant. Somehow that person passes, a full moon, right into your gravitational field, stirring within you a million microscopic cellular oceans, pulling their tides inexorably toward her. And you do. You put your hands on her face, or grab her by the arm, or you lean in. You kiss her.

A really good first kiss feels like falling. Feels like smiling. Like the embrace of a perfect blanket in front of a perfect fireplace. A good first kiss will elicit a swoony feeling.

Swoony feelings are highly underrated.

To kiss someone at the end of a first date simply because that’s what you think you’re supposed to do, that’s like throwing away a golden ticket to Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory. It’s a sin and a waste.

First kisses are worth waiting for. The good ones are.

8 State Kate

A plug for a friend, a great dog story, and a good cause:

This book was written by my Katrina friend, Jenny. In addition to Kate's amazing story, it features letters and essays from a number of Katrina volunteers, including me. There's reason enough to slap down a few bucks right there!

$5 PER BOOK ORDERED AT https://www.createspace.com/3342404 DURING THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER WILL BE DONATED TO ANIMAL RESCUE ORGANIZATIONS THAT ARE SHELTERING ANIMALS FROM HURRICANE GUSTAV IN LOUISIANA AND SURROUNDING AREAS.

8 State Hurricane Kate
The Journey and Legacy of a Katrina Cattle Dog

By Jenny Pavlovic

On August 29, 2005, Hurricane Katrina roared into New Orleans, Louisiana, unleashing a torrent of wind and water that forever altered the landscape. In the ensuing weeks, countless people and animals were rescued from the flood-ravaged city. 8 State Hurricane Kate is the unforgettable story of the powerful bond between a cattle dog rescued from a rooftop and the woman who wouldn't give up on her. The heartwarming story of Kate's post-Katrina journey is a testament to the will and perseverance of the dog and human spirit! As they make that courageous journey together, new worlds open up for Jenny and Kate, an amazing survivor and teacher. Kate's remarkable journey, a tale of love, courage, and compassion, has inspired many others. Her legacy is a rescue network that continues to help dogs across the country today. At least 50% of book profits will go to the 8 State Kate Fund, to provide financial relief for animals in desperate situations. Learn more at www.8StateKate.net.

About the author:

Jenny Pavlovic, Ph.D. is a biomedical engineer by vocation and a "dog person" by avocation. She has adopted and rescued purebred and mixed breed dogs, and currently lives in Minnesota with Australian Cattle Dog (ACD) Bandit, rescued ACD-Collie mix Chase, and rescued ACD mix Cayenne. One of her greatest rewards has been seeing rescued dogs break away from pasts of abuse, neglect, or trauma and begin to enjoy life. Jenny has also learned a lot from watching her herding dogs do what they were bred to do. Through working and living with them, she has become a better person and a more confident leader. Jenny has trained her dogs in obedience, rally obedience, agility, herding, carting, tracking, acting (tricks), and therapy dog work. Her day is not complete until she gets out for a walk and a ball game with the dogs. She is active in Australian Cattle Dog rescue and has helped rescue many purebred and mixed breed dogs since Hurricane Katrina. You can see their stories and happy endings at www.8StateKate.net. Jenny is grateful for the new friends that she met through her Katrina rescue efforts and to all who supported Kate. Having the faith to take that unknown journey led to many new riches in her life. Jenny has published technical abstracts, patents, and magazine and newspaper articles. This is her first book.

Three years later...

I wrote this on the first anniversary of Hurricane Katrina as a message to all of the many people who I had met, in person and online, in the course of post-Katrina animal rescue.

I'm posting it again, in honor of all of these same people and in memory of so many animals. For anyone who gives of themselves for others, this is for you, too.

With love,

Foop

=====================
Hurricane Katrina, one year later…

So here we are, one year after Hurricane Katrina. Hard to believe – it seems at once as if it was last week and yet a thousand years ago. So much has been done. So much has not.

I had been struggling to decide out how to mark this day and it came to me to observe the (Korean) Buddhist tradition of performing 108 bows. You begin in a standing position, drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor with palms up on either side of your head, stand up, and repeat. The gesture is somewhat akin to lighting a candle in a Catholic church, but the end result is that your ass hurts a whole lot more when you’re done.

So I awoke this morning before dawn and shuffled outside to my memorial garden, equipped with my trusty zabuton, some incense, a couple of candles, and a very foggy head.

As I was bowing and standing, bowing and standing, the past year flooded over me. I saw the images, remembered the names, relived the stories, and experienced the intolerable heartbreak anew. Linus, Big Yellow Dog, Mee-Moo, 8 State Kate, Cleo, Leaf, Little Joe, Pasados, Noah’s Wish, Camp Katrina, Best Friends, Gonzales, Lamar Dixon, the Superdome, the Ninth Ward, St. Bernard’s Parish...St. Bernard’s Parish…St. Bernard’s Parish…

Our hearts have broken a thousand times in the last year. And they will break at least thousand more. But, for many of us, we chose the heartbreak over inaction because inaction would crush our souls. We are each of us climbing an arduous and, at times, forbidding mountain. Day after day, we go on.

Some days, your heart is light and you run on the swift legs of the deer.

Some days, your heart is on fire and you prowl with the powerful legs of the tiger.

But on some days, your heart is drowning, and your legs are like lead.

On those days, stop, for the love of God. Sit down, rest yourself, say a prayer for Shannon Moore and then and sit some more. Call a friend, get drunk, go to church, meditate, scream, tell your pets and your family that you love them. Whatever you have to do.

To paraphrase the mighty Ani DiFranco:

i could wake up screaming sometimesbut i don't
i could step off the end of this pier but
i've got a litter of puppies to bottle feed
and an appointment on tuesday
to have 47 cats neutered


Instead of looking up the mountain to the terrain you have yet to cover, try to see behind you to all of the lives you have saved, the lives you’ve tried to save, and the innumerable lives you have touched. The number is unknowable, but I assure each of you that it is profound and it is precious beyond words. This is the revolution of Kindness that Michael Mountain talks about. We touch so many lives that we don’t even know about.

If you rescue, if you make phone calls, if you transport, if you cross post, if you change someone’s mind, if you donate or meditate or light a candle or say a prayer – all of these things change the world. Never underestimate the value of what you do. One step at a time - one dog, one horse, one mind, three dozen cats (come on cat people, that’s funny!).

So as I was struggling back to the standing position after my 108th bow, I glanced up at my little Buddha statue and saw something that struck me. A miniscule spider was blithely repelling down the face of the Buddha. I don’t even like spiders, but this one seemed to me as a messenger. As if my little Buddha was winking at me. “Life is here. You are here. All of Life is in this moment. It’s OK. Go ahead, girl.”

Can I get an AMEN?

“Namaste” represents the belief that there is a Divine spark within each of us. It an acknowledgment of the soul in one by the soul in another. "Nama" means bow, "as" means I, and "te" means you. Therefore, Namaste literally means "I bow to you."

Namaste. I bow to you all.

8/29/06

Incomprehensible... but deep

"Fried chicken pants! We are elastic! We are elastic!"

- Random exclamations by my son, who is running around the house like a little apple-cheeked psychopath.

The view from here...

The other day I was sitting at my computer, intently working on something of great personal interest. I felt a pang of guilt and caught myself thinking “Wow, I should really get back to work.”

Then I remembered, “Oh yeah, this IS my job!”

[Pinch me, somebody!]

Several months into my radical and much-agonized-over career change, I could not be happier with my choice. I can’t believe I stuck around the old gig for so long. I’ve kept in touch with friends from The Old Job and they tell me things are exceptionally toxic around the water cooler these days.

Ahhhh, I don’t miss it one teeny weeny bit.

Ten Thousand Leagues Under the Neighborhood Pool

The E-man has started jumping off the diving board.

THE

DIVING

BOARD

(!!!)

The kid’s not even five for cri-eye-eye! I don’t know what The Magic Diving Board Age is supposed to be, but we’re talking about my baby here. It’s all just so…so sudden.

...

The little man adjusts his neon-green shark goggles and steps onto the board. He walks to the end and stops. He does a little butt-shaking dance to pass the time until the diving area is clear.

He glances over his shoulder to make sure Mommy is watching. I smile unconvincingly.

He jumps.

Plunging in, he displaces a little-kid shaped plume of water.

One, one thousand...

In a cylindrical explosion of bubbles, his impossibly tiny body plummets toward the bottom of the pool - the reeelly, reeelly deep part of the pool, which suddenly looks to be about two thousand feet down.

His momentum slows. He starts his lopsided dog-paddle upward, toward the sunlight and air.

I can’t see him. His head is not breaking the surface. Self-talk: He’s fine. Give him a second.

He’s been underwater for hours.

I take a step toward the pool, craning my neck. A miniscule jolt of adrenaline tingles in my torso. I’m ready to jump in.

He emerges.

Two, one-thousand...

I breathe.

He’s beaming. He swims to the ladder, hoists himself out, does that funny little race-walk that kids do in order go as fast as they possibly can without getting called out by the life-guard, and takes his place at the end of the line for the diving board.

Repeat six-hundred and thirty-seven times.