Not traveling; road work.
Today was day-two for Tigress to have a little roadwork. Yesterday I took Py out with her, this morning Gin got her crack at it. Gin is 20 months old, she took to roadwork like a trotter to the track.
Yesterday I was sorry I didn't have a camera with me, as there were some lovely little birds flitting from fencepost to fencepost and an assortment of summer flowers in bloom. Today I took the camera but it's much cooler (mid 50's) and overcast, so no birds.
But here are some flowers for your viewing pleasure:
When I was little, we called this a "zuni squash". It's correct name will be added later (I can not find it in my book to save my life) but the amazing thing about them is that the edible part is the flowers.
Gorgeous jewelry pieces are named in honor of this flower.
These enormous plants spread 20' or more along the ground; I've seen them climbing fences and choking cholla plants.
Here's the fruit part:
Note how it forms between the base of the flower and the stem, allowing the removal (and consumption) of the flower without damaging the gourd. MMMMMMMMM, delicious.
Speaking of cholla... they are now blooming at our elevation. Anywhere up to 7' or taller, sometimes an entire field of these - acres and acres - bloom simultaneously. Spectacular.
And here are some other little flowers: sadly I don't know what any of them are, but they do dress up the ditches on the side of the road:
And finally, even though it is off-topic, last night's sunset was so spectacular I must share:
This view is why I will never live anywhere else.
Like watching dog training on TV? Me too.
I recommend It's Me or the Dog (I prefer the English re-runs) and Barking Mad. But stay away from Cesar Millan; good TV, lousy dog training.
The following just came across my radar today; it's so good I'm including the entire thing.
I personally have seen footage of how Cesar "trains" that has been edited out of the aired program; it's sickening. Google him and see how many times he's been sued by clients horrified at how their beloved pets have been treated. Read the following, including the links, and decide for yourself how we, as a species, can interact with canines to effectively teach while retaining our humanity.
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American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior
June 11, 2009
The executive board of the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior (AVSAB) is deeply troubled to learn that Merial, a leader in the veterinary healthcare industry, is using Cesar Millan in a promotional campaign for Heartgard and Frontline. We are even more disturbed to find that Merial is cross-promoting Mr. Millan's behavior video as part of this campaign. Merial's executives may not be aware of the fact that the American College of Veterinary Behaviorists (ACVB), the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior (AVSAB) and the Society of Veterinary Behavior Technicians (SVBT) have uniformly spoken out against the coercive, “dominance”-based techniques employed by Mr. Millan on his television show "The Dog Whisperer."
At best, the show is entertaining but misleading to pet owners. At worst, Mr. Millan's techniques and misinformation have contributed to increased aggression and anxiety or resulted in physical injury to the pet and/or pet owner. As practicing veterinarians, we all unfortunately have seen many cases of the latter. Merial claims to "enhance the health, well-being, and performance of animals.” Asking veterinarians to recommend that their clients seek behavior information from Mr. Millan speaks otherwise. In these difficult economic times, it may be understandable that Merial would want to use a celebrity to advertise its products in a direct-to-consumer fashion. However, had Merial taken the time to investigate, it would have found that Mr. Millan's philosophy runs counter to the standard-of-care promoted by veterinary behaviorists and taught at veterinary schools.
For reference, we have attached AVSAB’s position statements on the “Use of Punishment in Behavior Modification in Animals” and “Dominance Theory in Behavior Modification in Animals”. You will find that these statements are based in scientific research and do not support the techniques Mr. Millan promotes on his show. We would also be happy to provide you with additional peer-reviewed references indicating that the training methods televised on “The Dog Whisperer” often lead to increased aggression and human injury.
We are deeply saddened that Merial's executives are not more supportive of the veterinary behavior community and its efforts to promote effective, scientifically based, humane training methods. We remain concerned that your company's support of Mr. Millan’s controversial training methods through the distribution of his video and financial support of his show will contribute to the number of difficult dogs and injured owners that we have to eventually console, counsel, and reeducate.
Perhaps Merial would like to support our efforts to counteract the negative impact of this unfortunate marketing choice that may ultimately serve to alienate educated veterinarians, dog trainers, and owners alike. We would welcome the opportunity to further discuss this issue with Merial.
Sincerely,
E. Kathryn Meyer, VMD (President)
John Ciribassi, DVM, DACVB (Immediate Past President)
Karen Sueda, DVM, DACVB (President Elect)
Kari Krause, DVM
Kelly Morgan, DVM
Valli Parthasarathy, PhD, DVM
Sophia Yin, DVM MS
Laurie Bergman, VMD, DACVB
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The ACVB has sent a letter, and AVBT has sent one, too. Fifty years of studies show violence-based training does NOT work and what principles do. Good reads, all.
Unlike romantic love, there's just no question when it's over.
Friends come in all stripes, and like diamonds are transformed into value by pressure. Recently two friendships have imploded; one with lawyers and toxic e-mails, the other with an epic shouting match and squealing tires.
While not a central player in these relationships, I'm something more than a bystander. And the pain radiating off these people has a heat that burns my skin.
The first involves co-ownership of some valuable animals and a large piece of real estate. Like many agreements born of common interests and best friendship, discussion over drinks and many months, time and self interest ultimately clouded recollections and led to disagreement. Add in financial stress, more alcohol, revisionist history, and no signed contracts, and the situation has disintegrated past the point of hostile. A friendship in ruins, the lawyers are crossing swords, and it will get worse before it gets resolved.
The second involves an offer of help that was accepted and punished. Whether the offer was made in good faith or not is up for debate, but there's no question it was believed as sincere. A friendship that worked over some minor distance, failed temporary co-habitation. They say familiarity breeds contempt, and this time it surely did. Throw in a little over-statement of competency and probably some mental instability, and it's painfully obvious why this didn't work out well. Thankfully the end was swift, albeit incredibly ugly, but at least it's done.
I won't pretend to know how deep friendship between men functions. Between women, I only know that it's complicated. Perhaps we care too much, get too involved, take too much for granted. Perhaps that's why the end is so spectacularly unpleasant.
For me, being Friends isn't about shared politics or religion or sexual orientation any more than it's about skin color, income, or shoe size. It is about chemistry, unflinching trust, reliability, taking care to never take advantage, common priorities, and laughter. A lot of laughter, at the world, at and with each other, at ourselves.
True friendship, like a marriage, must withstand tests of both time and difficulty. Many also thrive despite distance. It's easy to be friends when times are good and things are simple; it's harder under adverse circumstances. I am blessed with a few really true Friends - I call them intimates. They know my darker moments and love me anyway; I've seen their weaknesses and love them anyway. People whose call for help I would unquestioningly answer with "Yes" or "I'm on the next plane", no detail required. What makes, to me, the distinction between friends and Friends is the reciprocity of that response.
So to my Friends... I love you. Thanks for having my back. I've got yours.
Relationships that have weathered and grown through the hard times - over the big stuff - are treasures beyond measuring. May each of us have at least one in our lives.
The prickly pear have started to bloom; 
as promised here's a picture of one in bloom: This was taken early in the morning, after the sun has hit but before the blooms fully opened. They are a pale cream inside, shown here is the peachy reverse of the petals.
I've been taking twice-daily walks around the entire property with the visiting Tigress, and have noticed a couple of things. One, the cholla are of two minds: growing new parts and fixin' to bloom:
new growth; very dark and soft.
pending blooms; note the new growth is curving away from the buds.
The other is that there is no sign of rabbits of any kind at all anywhere. "Sign" in OFC parlance means fresh poop (also known as borzoi M&M's), urine stains, or nibbled cactus. All the cactus I have inspected are free of teeth marks. And the only rabbit I've seen was the remnants the Py and Gin shared several weeks ago (and jack or cottontail I could not tell) - all the bunnies seemed to have moved on to less hostile pastures. I do hope they have simply moved on, and are not actually diminished in population numbers. Last season was a tough one, hare were hard to find.
It has been my hope that our relatively mild winter and decent snowfall, combined with the early spring rains, would provide ample fodder for the rabbits to have productive bunny-making spring. As Elmer Fudd said, be wery wery quiet...
It took 15 months, but at long last my green car is LEGAL again!!
The saga began last March (as in, 2008) when I attempted to renew the registration on my green car. Fortunately, New Mexico offers on-line renewals, and as I have no interest in spending time in government waiting rooms, that is that I did. This was not my first on-line renewal, no sirree. I had done the white car in '08 and the van in '07, so I had all my paperwork in order. VIN, check. Driver's license, check. Registered owners' names, check. The website took my info, took my CC#, displayed a confirmation (which I printed), and that was that.
Or so I thought. In fact, it was merely the beginning.
Several weeks later - sometime in May, to be exact, I realized that the sticker on the green car's license plate was now expired and the new one hadn't arrived. So I called MVD and inquired as to the status of the sticker. And I was told that it had been mailed. And I said, it's not here, can you issue a new one? And was told no, I'd have to come in to my local Santa Fe office and re-register from scratch and - wait for it - pay for a new sticker. Huh??? We haven't lived in Santa Fe in years, to what address did you mail the sticker I already paid for? Why, to this completely bogus address in Santa Fe. Well, that's NOT OUR ADDRESS and that's not the address that printed on my receipt, so since YOU screwed up please be so kind and to send me a new sticker. Sorry, we can't do that, you have to come in and pay again.
No, I don't have to. And you can't make me.
So I make sure I have the receipt showing I paid the registration tucked into the car (along with the proof of insurance) and go on my merry way.
We, my husband Rick and I, have been careful that Anthony (our 17 year old) doesn't drive the green car. While we may be smug and self-righteous, there clearly was no up-side to putting a teenager in a precarious position should he ever be pulled over. Since last spring, I have driven the green car to AZ, CO, TX, and on countless highways and through small towns all over NM. I've driven directly in front of county sherriffs, staties, tribal officers, and city cops many, many times - no problem. The green car has been on state penetentary grounds, checked in by guards (who carefully write down my plate number) and sniffed by boder patrol drug dogs - no problem. Clearly, the police have bigger crimes to fight than an out-of-date-sticker. And anyway, I had my printed receipt to show if ever needed.
This master plan of self defense began to unravel three weeks ago, when a huge rock cracked into the windshield of the green car, freeing the rear-view mirror of it's post and leaving a divot nearly 2" in diameter. This was just a week before Anthony's graduation, when my stress level (predictably) had begun its skyward trajectory to stupidville. In a series of maybe-I-should-have-seen-it-coming missteps, the proverbial wheels came off the entire arrangement.
Part One involved my calling the insurance company about a week after the mirror fell off to file a glass claim for a new windshield. This involved taking the proof-of-insurance out of the green car and into the house in order to dial the 800 number so I could give them the policy number. Unfortunately, the person that answered the phone had worked there exactly two days, and after 45 minutes of excruciating and circular discussion I informed her I had *no more time* to deal with this until the next week, and left for the airport to pick up my mother.
Part Two involved a rookie Albuquerque police officer pulling me over, in broad daylight and dry weather, because my plate sticker was expired. I'm dead serious. Not for speeding or weaving or talking on my cell phone, but because the sticker had expired. This seemed a mere mild annoyance, as I handed her my driver's license and pulled the printed receipt for registration for her review. The officer smiled wryly and said yes, MVD screws this sort of thing up all the time, no problem... except this expired in March of 2009. Really? I could have sworn I got the 2-year registration...
Oh dear. The officer seemed unconcerned, and asked for my proof of insurance.
Uh oh. That was at home, on the dining table, where I'd left it the other day after calling the insurance company about the crack in the windshield.
Cracked windshield? says the officer. I'll be right back.
Yikes. Many long minutes later the officer comes back, and takes off her sun glasses. Glares at me as only someone in their early 20's and wearing a gun can do. "Ma'am, you do have insurance on this vehicle, is that correct?" "Yes officer, I swear." My hands in plain view on the steering wheel, sunglasses on top of my head, plaintive expression on my face.
One minute, ma'am, I'll be right back.
She comes back with three pieces of paper: warnings, one each for the expired registration, lacking proof of insurance, and the cracked windshield. Very kind of you officer, thank you so very much. You have a nice day now, ma'am.
I deserved a ticket for the expired registration, but the cracked windshield warning was a low blow. She hadn't noticed until I'd pointed it out. And I'll mention, by way of information not justification, that a cracked windshield is de riguer in New Mexico.
Part Three involved daily and seemingly ceaseless phone calls from various insurance company lackeys offering various appointment times with glass replacers. Parts 2.1 through 2.84 involved explaining, more than once, that no glass vendor in the state would provide on-site service at our ranchero due to our remote location, and I would be happy to go into Albuquerque next week as I was currently overrun with family and graduation stress, and would it be possible to please have the dealer do the repair since (a) a heated windshield was required and (b) the mirror had to be replaced.
Ooops. Shouldn't have mentioned the mirror. Because that meant it was no longer a glass-only claim with a $100 deductible, but a comprehensive claim with a $500 deductible. Um, never mind about the mirror.
The low point of Part Three was when the insurance company, no doubt in a valiant attempt to demonstrate superior customer service but instead validating their inability to take notes, called during Anthony's graduation party. Fortunately, a transcript of my succinct reply is not available for public viewing, but let's just say it wasn't as civil as it could have been. As a result of said brief conversation however, the claim was canceled.
But wait, the best is yet to come.
Part Four was a long conversation with the service manager at the dealership about the windshield, the mirror, and the registration. Turns out that since the last time the green car had been officially registered the rules in our county had changed and a smog certification was not longer issued for a "sniff test" but only for a computer-hook-up check. Since the green car has a California emissions system, the sniff test was always a slam-dunk. Unfortunately, because the check engine light has been on for a while - OK!! I admit: it's been on for about 18 months - this was going to be a problem. Expected to be a $1,300 catalytic converter problem.
I suggested they yank the dashboard and break the lightbulb behind the "check engine" indicator. They laughed.
Part Five: So, Monday this week I put on my big-girl boots and set about making this right. I called the insurance company, got somebody competent, got a claim number. I called a glass place in Albuquerque, made sure they had the right heated windshield, made an appointment. Called the dealership and made an appointment to hang the mirror back up and leave the green car overnight so they could slap the check engine light into submission and do an emissions test. Then I called the insurance company and had them fax over a new proof-of-insurance document.
On Tuesday I drove to Albuquerque to the glass place. $100 and one hour later I had a terrifyingly clean windshield, and the tech even re-hung the mirror. They admonished me not to go through a car wash for at least 24 hours (that's funny, does that car look like its been within 100 yards of a car wash, ever?) and leave a window cracked overnight, and sent me on a way.
Next I drove to the dealership, where they had a hole in their schedule and asked if I could wait while they looked at the car right then. I said sure, walked across the street for a coffee, and read my book. After an hour I wandered back to the dealership, where they presented me with a two-year smog certificate and a bill for $27.
Feeling incredibly lucky, I stopped by the MVD office on my way home. Unfortunately they had closed at 4 p.m. so I was done for the day.
Wednesday I called the MVD office up in Santa Fe, where you may remember all our troubles began 15 months ago, and was told that (1) my little local office was not able to change addresses so I had to (2) bring the car to Santa Fe for a VIN inspection with a (3) change of address form and (4) proof of current address. #4 is a bugger because our physical address is make-believe (we live at the end of a dirt road that doesn't have a name) and use a PO box for mail. Bring a utility bill with both addresses on it, she said. Like what? Our electric and water bills are a co-op's that only have the mailing address - as rural businesses they understand the reality that physical addresses aren't much use. (We can't get cable or pizza delivery either.)
Well thanks anyway, I said, and hung up. And decided, no, that's not what I'm going to do. At least not at first.
Part Six. This morning, Thursday, I steeled myself with an extra cup of coffee, gathered up all the green car's papers and a book to read, and drove to the local MVD office. What's the worst that could happen? I could spend an hour sitting in the lobby before being told no, that was the worst.
I walked in, heard a voice say "Can I help you?" and sat down at the counter. I told her I wanted to see about getting a registration sticker for my car. She said "No problem" and asked for the old registration or the smog certificate. I slid the shiny-new smog certificate across the desk. She hit the keyboard for a few seconds, then said, your address is a mess, what's your address? I told her the PO Box, she asked if I wanted one year or two. "Two, please." Just a minute. She pushed the sticker saying June 2011 across the counter and asked for $130. I gave her a check, said thanks, and left.
Less than 5 minutes. In, out, done. No kidding.
We'll see what happens in 2011 when I have to register the green car again. With any luck, the check engine light will still be off.
When I was little, we called this a "zuni squash". It's correct name will be added later (I can not find it in my book to save my life) but the amazing thing about them is that the edible part is the flowers.
Note how it forms between the base of the flower and the stem, allowing the removal (and consumption) of the flower without damaging the gourd. MMMMMMMMM, delicious.
