~ 1 ~

If I’m awake at 3:15 AM, I’m not usually online and blogging. This strikes me as common sense. But since I was WIDE AWAKE this morning (or is it night?), and since I hadn’t scheduled my Quick Takes (did not, in fact, know what all my Quick Takes would be, prior to this session with my laptop), I thought I might as well share with you what it is that brings me to my WIDE AWAKE state today at 3:15 AM.

~ 2 ~

I’m here because of our Cattle Dog*, who has been barking for the last four hours. She’s been outside, on the porch side of the house, barking. And barking. And BARKING.

Our late Jack Russell Terror used to have barking jags too, especially once he became an outside dog. But, the thing is, with him, it was always for a reason, like a coon or a critter of some sort.

Oh, and she’s not barking anymore. I put her in her cage. Why did it take me four hours to reach that point? Well. Good question. I’m asking myself at exactly what point I thought she would just…stop…with her barking. Was I waiting for someone else to take care of it? Maybe it’s safe to say I was just trying to sleep.

*The Cattle Dog needs a catchy name like the former Jack Russell Terror had…any ideas?

~ 3 ~

After I caged the Cattle Dog, I thought I’d check on the pups. (For those of you who didn’t see it on Twitter, Facebook, or my post on Tuesday, we jumped off the deep end last weekend and got not one, but TWO Jack Russell pups.) We’ve been keeping them on the porch, and a niggling little voice in my head was wondering if the reason for Cattle Dog’s barking was something with the pups. She was barking on that side of the house, after all.

I walked onto the enclosed porch, and one of the pups jumped right out of his cozy little bed, ready to play.

But where was the other one?

I called him. I made a kissing noise. I asked the bouncing pup where his brother was.

And then I heard the whining.

From the freezer.

~ 4 ~

The puppy was IN THE FREEZER. We recently redid our porch and it’s still cleared off, because I was expecting to paint the floor. After we got the pups, I decided to wait until we had completely moved them outside before I did the floor.

All that’s on our enclosed porch is two dog beds, a stepladder, the dog dishes of water and food, and a chest freezer.

~ 5 ~

I could hear him on the other side of the little vent thing on the side. Aside from wondering how in the world he got in there (he’s pretty small), I also wondered how I was going to get him out.

This is the sort of thing that falls under my husband’s domain. It involves a screwdriver and solving a spatial puzzle.

I was unable to wedge the vent open (how did he get IN THERE?!?) and also unable to find anything resembling a screwdriver (I’m SURE we have them here somewhere). So I did what the situation warranted: I went upstairs and told my husband.

“Puppy #1 is in the freezer.”

He hadn’t been asleep. Cattle Dog had been barking for FOUR HOURS, remember? Only the kids slept through that, and then only because I took them to the fair last night.

His head never left the pillow.

With one eye open and his head still cradled in his arm, he mumbled, “He CAN’T be in the freezer.”

I didn’t stick around to bug him about it. Someone had to rescue the pup, after all!

~ 6 ~

Was I going to have to go to the barn to find a screwdriver? I was dusting off the area of my mind that ineffectively deals with this and telling myself it was NOT okay to call anyone, rationalizing that the puppy would probably live until morning, when I stepped back onto the porch.

Puppy #1 was romping with his brother. He was out of the freezer.

~ 7 ~

I have NO IDEA how he got in or how he got out of the freezer. I put a full can of paint in front of the vent, and if he gets back in the freezer, he’s going to be there until morning, because I’m going back to bed to salvage some sleep.

My husband is going to be laughing at me for at least a week over this, and I am filing it as the beginning of another decade (at least) of Jack Russell tales. (I have quite a few from our last encounter with this breed.)

Puppy #2 (top) and Puppy #1 (bottom)

We have Jen at Conversion Diary to thank for our weekly dose of Quick Takes. She hosts every week, rain or shine (or incessantly barking dogs), and we are eternally grateful.

Yes, it’s true: I love Mary.

I call her Mommy. I talk to her throughout my day. I lean on her and encourage others to do the same.

It’s no surprise, then, that I spent some time recording a segment for Pat Gohn, of the Among Women podcast, for her upcoming special on Mary. Not only did I feel a sort of personal mandate, a calling even, I thought it might be fun. (You know, because I needed a reason to cry.)

Though it took approximately 49 takes to record, thanks to Niagra Falls coming from my eyes, I did finally come up with a completed segment about what I love about Mary.

If you haven’t yet called Pat’s listener feedback line (206-338-6077) or emailed her (amongwomenpodcast@me.com) an mp3 file or email she can share, consider doing that this week. (You only have until August 3rd!)

Think of it as a love note, a little bouquet we’re gathering for a dear woman in our lives, a saint who intercedes for us in the most intimate and tender ways, who is always there for us, who is a mother in the most beautiful way.

Can’t wait to hear your contribution on the show!

Right?

Well, though I have plenty of post ideas, I have a feeling that it will be either a no posting day or a late posting day if I don’t just use these handy prompts. So, in the interest of capturing real life, here goes.

Outside my window: Chirping birds and, ah, cool breezes! After a week of unseasonable heat, the cool we’ve had for the last few days is refreshing.

Rambling thoughts: Ah, the dog days of summer are here. And we have been busy and not busy, which seems to be a uniquely summer phenomenon. I am finding peace in the un-rhythm, though also starting to plan for the rhythm to change and the routines to kick back in.

In thanksgiving: For small puffs of fur. For daughters who insist on goodnight kisses. For reading aloud to others.

Folded hands, bowed head: For a colleague of my husband’s and his wife, who just lost their full-term baby. Please join me in praying for them.

Kitchen meanderings: That’s what I’m doing in the kitchen: meandering. In the cool mornings, I bring my laptop out here after prayers and enjoy the ambiance. How had I forgotten that this was my favorite place to write?

Nose inserted: I’ll be reading Don Quixote until my children graduate from high school, I think. I’m slowing down on it, though, and reading Pilgrim’s Progress in earnest, along with Going Public: Your Child Can Thrive in Public School.

Recent reads: I just finished A Broom of One’s Own: Words on Writing, Housecleaning and Life, by Nancy Peacock, last night, on the recommendation of Dorian. I really enjoyed it, and was glad I paused in some of my other reading pursuits to pick it up. Other recently finished books: Our Jewish Roots: A Catholic Woman’s Guide to Fulfillment Today by Connecting with Her Past, by Cheryl Dickow, and an old favorite, Alice Through the Looking-Glass, by Lewis Carroll.

Around the house: The kids are still sleeping at 8:00, which isn’t so unusual lately. They got to bed verrrry late last night (again) and I’m thankful that they will and can sleep in a bit. The sink is full of soaking dishes, the washer awaits replacement, and things are, basically, quiet.

A favorite thing: The soft weight of a sleeping child’s head on my shoulder.

Plans made, possibly kept: This year, the county and state fair are back-to-back and almost simultaneous. Due to some other commitments we’ve had, we won’t be (and can’t be) as involved as we have been in the past, but we did go to the county fair last night and plan to go to the state fair this weekend. The talk of the fair year, among our eldest young lady (age five), is when she will be old enough to show. She doesn’t know what she’ll show, mind you, but she knows she wants to show. (Or she thinks she does.)

Food for thought: “I don’t know how it works exactly, but something about opening my mouth and admitting what I’ve done wrong is a crucial step toward healing and reconciliation. It helps me see myself clearly.

“In this way, Confession isn’t something I do for God. It’s something God does for me.”

From “Why I Go to Confession,” by Elizabeth Esther

Worth a thousand words: The new “deadly duo” (because we need a critter dog, and if one’s good, two are better…right?):

This daybook inspired by Peggy’s work.

I replied to his effusive thank you with a shrugging response, pretty much saying, “Hey, isn’t that what anyone would do?” I don’t think about that as being real work.

He wrote me back again, and his response made me think about prayer — and the work of prayer — in a new way.

Praying is doing the WORK of the Church. It is work. It takes time, energy and commitment.  We may all be called to pray but how many of us actually do that work? I am guilty of being spiritually lazy at times and failing to converse with God, telling Him about those I care about, listening for His guidance.

One important thing I myself struggle to manage is being noticed and praised for something I should be doing all along.  I know it’s called positive reinforcement in the dry psychological circles but I am a huge failure here.  I dismiss praise from others because I somehow feel unworthy. For ME, it’s part of my life-long inferiority complex which has its roots in childhood. I am only now realizing that I am GOD’S child. He loves me and lavishes His sweetness on me in ways I am only now seeing.

Your note triggered those thoughts about myself.  I think the really best answer is not that I give you credit (though I do, so there!) but that I rejoice that you in the Body of Christ come to [my] aid, in the Body of Christ. We share in the divine ecstatic dance of the Father with the Son from which the Holy Spirit flows and gives life to the world.

You and all who pray for others deserve to remember that you are part of the dance, especially when you do something for someone else, even something as “little” as praying to the God of the universe for a brother you have never met. Instead of credit, call it joy.

I have had intentions so dear, so special, so important to my heart that, when people have told me they’re praying for them, I have been moved to tears. I know how it feels to be appreciative of the power of the time others take to remember my intentions to God. So, this week, I’m going to pay closer attention to doing this work of mine well, because it is so very, very important.

This week, our life was inexorably altered when our dog Petie, who I’ve been calling the Jack Russell Terror in this space for years, died unexpectedly. In honor of the years we’ve spent together, and because it makes for good material, I am dedicating today’s 7 Quick Takes to dog tales…about him.

~1~

Terror…not Terrier

My relationship with Petie was, at best, love-hateHateHATE. I didn’t cry when I saw that he was surely going to die. (I did shed some tears later in the evening, though, because, truth be told, I do miss him). There’s a reason that there are so many Jack Russell pups in rescues…these dogs DO. NOT. STOP.

He spent years as an inside dog. When we finally moved him outside, my life improved immeasurably. In fact, any love I had for him grew exponentially in the last two years that he  spent as an outside dog.

So, to those who wondered on Twitter if I was misspelling, no. He was (and remains in our memory) a Jack Russell Terror.

(He chewed that sweater. He was ALWAYS cold in the winter, and would lay in front of the wood stove until his skin turned pink, but would NOT let us “dress” him.)

~2~

Curiosity Killed the Coon (written December 2005)

In thirty years, if we are still living in this old farmhouse on our beautiful patch of property, I have an image of myself. My back will be stooped over from carrying babies and firewood and trying to only make one trip instead of the wiser two.  My hearing will be worse than it is, and so I will have to blast music even louder than I do, and dear Bob will have to be even more patient when I can’t hear him the third time he repeats himself.  I’ll be able to stomach all kinds of horrid you-live-in-the-country-if things, and I hope that I will also be able to cook better than I do now (hey, thirty years is a long time, so there’s hope!).  I’ll use words like “ain’t” and “rassle” without any thought of correctness, because I will have been in the country so long that it just won’t matter.  I also know that in thirty years, I will not be banished to wait by the wheelbarrow while a certain unnamed dog attacks a coon (or was it a cat?) in the underbrush.

Last night when we were making our daily trip out to fill the wheelbarrow with firewood, we stopped in the tin shed (which is sort of like a garage, but made of tin) to put out food for the cat.  Suddenly, there was a baying and a growling and a scuttling of small creatures behind the building. Bob, ever the unimpressed farmer type, shrugged it off as “Petie getting into something again.”  And then the cacophony changed to a higher, more urgent pitch, Bob grabbed the flashlight, and we went out to make it a spectator sport.

The snow was falling in lazy clumps, and the air was cold enough to make it hurt with every breath.  Even so, standing there behind Bob, peering into the dark mess of underbrush and wondering if my legs were safe from the dog and the thing he was harassing, I didn’t notice any of that.  Nope, what I was wondering was whether this would be a Shotgun Incident.

Petie tends to find the little critters in the area (it is, after all, what Jack Russells are bred to do), and to get into a good bloody mess as he corners them and attempts to kill them. Sometimes they get away from him enough to get only injured, and Bob will have to get the shotgun (or sometimes a large heavy object – that was last week with the possum) and do the humane thing and kill them.  Petie will not leave an injured critter alone until it is dead.  He has no compunction about his quarry’s size in relation to his 13 pounds of muscle and willpower.  (Does this make him courageous or stupid?)

Suddenly, in the midst of the scuffles and the growls, there was silence.  Bob had still not been successful at locating them with the flashlight, and in the silence, I looked over at his stoic unimpressed countenance, and asked, “Is this silence normal?” to which he replied, without batting an eye, “Nope.”

Then I asked the question that had been nagging me: “Am I safe standing here?” It turns out that I was right in the path that the critter would probably take if it got out from its corner of safety and made a run for it.  I repositioned myself, and Bob looked up long enough to say, “If I was you, I’d go up by the wheelbarrow.”

Considering that the last thing I wanted was a riled-up critter rushing my way – insert scene from “Christmas Vacation” where the door opens and the squirrel and the dog tear up the neighbor lady – I slouched over to the wheelbarrow where I really couldn’t see what was going on.

After the silence, the two duked it out some more and it got pretty loud.  Finally, the coon (or was it a cat?) made a dash off toward the west side of our property, with Petie in hot pursuit.  It was at this point that Bob began to question whether it was a cat instead of a coon.

Petie didn’t get the coon/cat last night, but he was a happy pup all the same. Nothing gets his juices running like a good rassle and a chase through the cold night with a cheering section calling his name (to the effect of “PETIE!  Get back here RIGHT NOW!”).  Although he had to deal with a bath, he also had his Hero (Bob) call him Good Dog at least four times

~3~

Cute…but Maddening

We happened upon Petie because the family that owned Petie had to get rid of him (an allergic daughter). They knew my mother-in-law was looking for a smaller dog and they called her. She couldn’t resist him and brought him home. My husband, seeing his mother apparently happy wasn’t going to say no either.

He was about five pounds then and cute as could be. That honeymoon period lasted a while. Maybe even as long as 48 hours.

And then the strong will started shining through. My husband, who has always been a natural Pack Leader, met this head-on. For almost ten years. He became Petie’s hero, and when Bob walked through the door at night, Petie

We ended up with Petie when my mother-in-law moved into an apartment and then he just sort of stayed. We joked for years and teased my mother-in-law that she could have her dog back anytime.

~4~

Inventive…with Anything Round

Oh, how he loved to chase a ball…

…or squash (the pumpkins never made it that year, either…he got them ALL)…

…or a shot put…

…or full-sized basketballs…

…or tires (which is what did him in, in the end). He was fast, which was great when he was attacking a rat or a coon or a groundhog or a cat. (Not so great if I was trying to get my kid’s ball back.)

When he was in the house, he used to hide under a buffet and poke his ball out. You were supposed to send it back to him. If you didn’t, he growled at an increasingly higher pitch until he was barking.

Lacking any other amusement, he would hide his toys all over the house, even…

…in the dryer!

~5~

Mr. Protective

Petie claimed us. He also claimed our kids and the people who were “with” us (friends and family who visited, etc.). Though I read that Jacks (or any terriers, for the most part) aren’t recommended for kids, we had a great experience with him, at least in his younger days. (The kids didn’t climb on him or tackle him as much once he became an outside dog.

The day we brought our oldest daughter home from the hospital, my mother-in-law came over. Petie growled at her — a serious, “I will bite you if you take one step closer” growl — when she leaned over to look in the crib.

He also used to curl up on the couch with us, especially with my husband. He didn’t take kindly to anyone waking up the person he was with, especially if it was Bob. He was spanked MANY times for growling at me when I would shake Bob awake at night for bed.

~6~

Life without Petie (written March, 2006)

I have a love-hate relationship with my Jack Russell. On the one hand, he’s the doggie equivalent of my energy, joyfully intelligent, and quite humorous as a source of stories.  On the other, he is insistent, annoying, and never-ending, and often highly annoying (like when he does random bark-screams in the middle of the night).  Lately it seems the pendulum has been hitting the hate end of the relationship more, but then we had a Scary Incident.

I was home alone and the baby was tucked away, snoozing peacefully upstairs.  I was either reading or online (or maybe both), when I saw a white blur streak across the room.  Looking up, I saw Petie run into something.  Now, if his ball had been on the other side of the said object, this would not have been unusual.  However, it was random wheels-not-working movement, and it was weird.  He was whimpering and obviously not happy.  Luckily, Bob came home right about then and I let Petie out, right before discovering some unintentional destruction.

I spent some time pondering what my life would be like without Petie, something that we joke about all the time but which I haven’t really considered in depth at all.  Who would entertain the baby in the mornings?  Who would clean up the kitchen floor after her meals?  Who would alert me to raccoons in the front yard?  Who would hide balls in my laundry hampers and then pull towels through the tiny holes in an attempt to retrieve them?  Who would steal all my blankets at night?  Who would greet Elizabeth in the mornings?  Who would keep me company on Bob’s school nights?  Who would greet me with unadulterated joy whenever I came home, even if I had only been gone for two minutes?  Who would have as much energy as me in the morning?  Who would shed white hair into every single possible imaginable place in our belongings?  Who would scare off the spiders?  Who would fight me for the couch?  Who would play fetch with me?  (no wait, I think I meant…who would play fetch with Elizabeth?)

We weren’t sure what was wrong, and still aren’t.  He seems fine now; back to the full swing of obstinate outdoor exploration while I’m still in my pajamas and calling for him to come in, barking at the slightest provocation to his Dad’s-not-home domain, and curling up in the crook of my legs when I go to bed early.

~7~

Posts from the Past

If you want to read past blog posts inspired by our late JRT, here you go:

• Jack Russell Terror (which is actually one of my favorite posts of all time, whether or not anyone else likes it)
• What’s that gnawing in my closet?
• Playing God
• Life on the Outside

Jen has all the Quick Takes at her place, which is worth stopping by and staying for a while. Visit her and maybe even participate with your own Quick Takes post!

It’s been a while since I’ve done a Small Successes post, though not for lack of thinking of those moments in my life when I have a tiny triumph. Over the last two weeks, though, almost everything has been small (or huge). Sometimes a little does of Small Successes makes it all come into focus…

1. No washer. Since the middle of last week. And look…not only am I still alive, but the back-up plan has been working just fine. (I also have not been mentioning it or complaining. Because…the decision process may take a bit longer. And I will live.)

2. I asked for feedback on a huge project this week. Not only will it help me make my project waaaay better than it was to begin with, I swallowed that nugget of pride that made me hesitate. And you know what? The feedback was oh-so charitable and oh-so insightful. I’m better for it.

3. We’ve had non-takeout dinner every night this week so far. (Granted, I didn’t have to cook one of those nights, because of the way the laundry worked out, but still. I claim this as a success.)

Don’t forget to check out the Small Successes post over at Faith & Family Live today.

And what a book it is! First, the presentation: the whole thing is full-color. I don’t have much of a background in publishing (any background, really), but I know a bit of printing costs and this was no small endeavor. It’s beautiful. It’s appealing. And, from what I gather, it looks like…a playbook. (I’m a sucker for cleverness.)

Though I subscribe to the belief that content is king, I also have a background in marketing and can attest to the fact that presentation makes all the difference. This book wasn’t designed for women (though I enjoyed it) and it wasn’t written for women either (though I found plenty in it that was relevant and useful to my life).

On the content side, it’s written clearly and without any fluff. There are lots of pictures, which isn’t to say anything other than that it’s sort of fun to read in a way that you just don’t expect a book about virtues to be. As I understand it, there’s also a study that goes along with it (a neighboring parish is hosting one, in fact, and I’ve included an announcement in our upcoming parish bulletin).

The main man in my life is a strong silent type. He doesn’t go to Bible studies or socialize much outside of his workplace. That’s just how he is and how his time is structured. In Crossing the Goal, we have a book that presents faith — and, specifically, the virtues — as something more than theory and as something beyond the realm of just women’s work. I like the straightforward writing, the examples, and the consistent theme (what’s not to love about football?). I hope my husband enjoys it as well.

Part of the Mary Moment Monday series

I had an attack of PoorMe the other day. There was no good reason for it (but, really, is there ever?): I was just not feeling well and was watching a home improvement project take longer than usual (which is, sadly, normal with this place…we always seem to get into more than we bargain for). It was discouraging, somehow, to see two men I love dearly working so hard and coming up against hurdles and complications.

I was facing my own series of challenges in the house, between my temper and my girls. I saw a hole where a wall used to be and wondered how this house would ever be a haven, a place of beauty, a home. My washer had stopped working earlier in the week, and little things that normally don’t phase me were bringing me to my knees.

It was all looking pretty hopeless to me.

Things got better later in the day, and on Sunday, I woke up and, after breakfast and the semi-completion of the project, started thinking in a whole different way about things. What if, I thought, I made our porch entrance into something that would make us smile? What if I made a few small changes (valences on the windows, repainting the floor, moving the freezer to make the area look larger) and did a few small (and, for me, unfamiliar and uncomfortable) decorative improvements?

When I mentioned them to my husband, that Prince Charming who not only puts up with my whims and who keeps our castle livable, he was supportive. He even let me use his tape measure. :) I measured here and I measured there. I made a list and a plan to go to the home improvement store where they must recognize us by now.

And, this morning, after my quiet devotional time, I went out and started the first step of my Pretty Porch Plan. I swept and lugged and battled cobwebs, all to the tune of the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I considered how differently I was looking at my entire house in light of this one small project.

Over the last ten years, I’ve come to the conclusion that home ownership is highly overrated. I might protest it, loudly and often, if not for the fact that I love the land that makes up our property, and I see beauty and peace all around me.

And then there’s the thought of what Mary would do. Did she feel ill-equipped in her home? Did she find herself wishing, longing, hoping for more and better? Did she wonder what God had in mind, exactly?

And if so, where did she find the strength to continue to say Yes, to embrace the call to higher work in the ordinary humdrum of her days?

I find her here, with me, in this old farmhouse, and it gives me hope. I need that hope right now. I’m clinging to it.

And I’m looking at color swatches for other areas of the house. :)

–

“And from the fig tree learn a parable: When the branch thereof is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh.” (Matthew 24:32)

Oh, the joys of summer food! Double-scoop ice cream cones dripping onto the sidewalk, corndogs and cheesecake-on-a-stick beckoning at the county fair, burgers and dogs sizzling on the grill, and icy-cold watermelon on the front porch bring to mind the lazy days of summer.

It’s fun to indulge in a few less-than-healthy summertime favorites, but this is the perfect time to add a variety of delicious and healthy foods to your diet.

Take advantage of low prices on fresh fruit to create smoothies, fruit salad, or low-fat cobbler. Berries add nutrition and flavor to cereal, pancakes, oatmeal, yogurt or dinner salads. They’re rich in antioxidants, which help slow aging and prevent disease.

Stock up now and freeze some to enjoy later in the year. Peaches, plums, apricots, cherries and watermelon are also in season and affordable. Take advantage of the bounty of summer fruit to experiment with some new recipes.

At lunch, ditch the sandwiches in favor of something new and different. Try pasta salads made with whole grain pasta and fresh vegetables. Or mix wild rice, brown rice, or quinoa with dried fruit, nuts, onions, chopped veggies, and a vinaigrette. Beans of all varieties can be mixed into salads using creative recipes you can find online (see links below). Use yogurt to make a calcium-rich smoothie or a parfait, layered with fresh fruit and granola.

Why heat up the kitchen during these long, hot days when you can go outside in the cooler evening hours and grill? Instead of the usual burger or steak, try leaner cuts of meat like flank steak, chicken breasts, fish and pork tenderloin. Marinades add flavor and reduce the carcinogens (cancer-causing agents) in grilled food. Serve with a healthy, homemade fruit salsa instead of a bun to add nutrition and reduce calories. You can find plenty of great recipes for mango, peach, or pineapple salsas online.

Main dish salads are filling and increase your daily vegetable count while reducing calories. Top a plate of fresh greens and veggies with grilled chicken, fish or beef. Mix up a flavorful vinaigrette instead of using calorie-laden creamy dressings.

It wouldn’t be summer without dessert, but try some healthy alternatives to the usual. Angel food cake is low-fat and pairs perfectly with fresh fruit. Chocolate-covered strawberries are a healthier alternative to pies and cakes. Pudding is typically low-fat and contains calcium, which helps strengthen bones. Popsicles made with real fruit juice are a better choice than ice cream. (If you do crave ice cream, take advantage of those mini containers in the freezer section that allow you to indulge while limiting fat and calories.)

These delicious summer foods are a gift from our Creator. “These all look to you to give them their food in due season… They gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.” (Psalm 104: 27-28)

Here are a few of my favorite healthy recipe websites to help get you started:

• Cooking Light
• Eating Well
• Healthy Recipes from Fitness Nutrition Experts
• Test Kitchen at the American Institute for Cancer Research