A lesson with Jim which cures the broken RSS.

Yesterday, I had my agility lesson. I go maybe once a month, or lately it's once every 2 months, up to Power Paws for a lesson with the Super Cool Jim Basic.


To get there, it is a journey on a twisty highway, over a mountain, from the sea! Through the valley of San Jose, and back up a mountain. Lots and lots of people in the Bay Area and from even farther away travel for their weekly Power Paws class with Jim or his wife, Nancy Gyes. Jim and Nancy are like the King and Queen of Dog Agility around here. Is that bad to say? Well, they are. But no matter how hard I try to organize it, I can't fit in a weekly class with an hour drive each way. So I go over on any Sunday we can make it work and have a lesson with Jim.


Not only has Jim helped me with just getting better at handling my dogs, he taught me to not totally suck at Gamblers. So I have Masters Gamblers Q's now. I think most of all he's taught me how to better look at a course and get my ass to the right spot for every part of it. But he is also funny and shares my love of all things ranches, and we always have a fun lesson and catch up on ranch things. He is training his puppy right now, Nancy chronicles it in Clean Run. So we talk about our puppies. I told him maybe next time he'll be able to see Gustavo run a little. But he's not ready yet. Jim's puppy is almost ready to make his debut. Mine, not so much.


We did take Gustavo up to his house and practice measuring him. He measures right at 12". I hear all you people with the tough measuring dogs groaning. OH NO! He is way too little to be a 16" dog. Ruby ran at 16" until last year when I moved her to performance and life is better there. He can be a performance dog if I have to, there is no shame in that, but I am going to work on teaching him to be a short 12" when he sees that measuring device. He's only been practice measured by me, so I am going to teach him to stand up short before he gets his real judge measuring. We'll see. He's just not a 16" dog. I'm pretty sure he's stopped growing now, and I just have to teach him shortness.


My dogs are always good at Jim's. They run fast and get all riled up. Ruby almost caught a squirrel there one time, like at least a year ago, and spent a couple runs running out to see if it was still there. But it gets her really fast, so Jim doesn't seem to care. She hit bars, she runs there like she can run at trials. I worked on better paths to possibly help her not leaving so damn long to the jump. Jim thinks she needs glasses. Otterpop is always happy there and runs like a speed demon. We worked on some better serpentines, me staying out of their path, tighter turns, and just me being the best handler I can be.


Jim also got some meatballs out of the shed frig and I ran Ruby back and forth through the poles a few times with visible meatballs on either side. Sort of like how I do at home with tupperwares. She got pretty frenzied and fast, like how I like her, so he said keep plugging away at it. They'll come back. Many meatballs, every single day.


No matter how weird a morning you have because the internet breaks, or how much you didn't sleep the night before because your Timmy was up and pacing, it's like you go to Jim's for a dog lesson and you come out all happy. Thanks Jim!

I swear I am trying to fix the RSS feed.

Hmm. Look what some hoodlum did to all those New State Parks Signs about the leashes.


These are just gratuitous photos. Maybe my mom would like them.


She knows I have a blog. She calls it a Blah-dge. Like rhymes with Lodge. She looked at it once and saw a picture of a dog! It was on the internet! I always thought she would like to see more photos but it's hard to be the child that does not provide actual grandkids but just has a mess of dogs.


But also I took them because I got home from work and Colorado dog agility lady who also loves the Clash, Elayne, put up a picture of herself and her dogs wearing almost exactly what I wore to work yesterday. She said hers was a Crazy Dog Lady Outfit. Mine is just regular work clothes. I may have a horribly wrong sense of what is Regular.


Also, if you know about RSS Feeds and Blogger, I would love any kind of help you could offer me. I do want to have a working RSS Feed but it is woefully beyond my skill level. Thank you so much to the Agility Nerd who has been trying to help me too!

I tried to watch tv for you but then I didn't.

So, someone said to me, "Hey are you watching Top Chef?" OK, they emailed this to me. No one really talks to me. Well, they do. But not about Top Chef. Like am I going to write up little in-a-nutshell stories about it so they don't have to watch it themselves was what they were getting at. Right, because I watch tv so you don't have to.

I sort of watched it. It is hard to fit in all the tv I'd like to with my busy schedule of, I dunno. Playing with the dogs. Fighting oppression by armed State Park Rangers. Work. Not plastering my office. Doodling with pens. Looking for socks and more receipts for the accountant. Like I don't even cook anything in my own kitchen, so it's sort of weird to watch others do it. I guess many people do this all the time with say, Sports. Basketball. Baseball. That is pretty much what is on our tv a lot of the time because some member of my family may be freakishly addicted to various Team Sports shows called The Important Game March Madness Pre Season F*cking Dumbass Giants. At least these are watched with the soundtrack of the stereo and not the real soundtrack. So as far as I know, basketball is always accompanied by Radiohead.

The chefs were making tacos the other night. If you have never seen Top Chef, just imagine Project Runway but they are all restaurant chefs. They are always drinking beer and they seem really jovial compared to fashion designers. It's hard for me to relate to. Project Runway, I got that. Just like art school. But cooking on a deadline? Like if you told me I had 1/2 hour to make a super fancy pants taco, I'd just give you a look and roll my eyes and slowly drive to one of the 18 taquerias within 5 minutes of my house and get you some tacos and call it a day. Right? To me, a taco is sort of a taco is a taco. I believe I do not have a developed palette. I am perfectly happy to enjoy some peanut butter on a piece of celery and dinner is served.

The the chefs had to cook something else and someone made it too salty and I was thinking, this just isn't all that interesting. Like this is just not from my world at all. They can just go to the store and get some stuff and cook it and it is something others would like to eat. And it will probably involve some ducks and pomegranates (I just had to look that up to spell it) and marscapone. Three things I would probably not think of to buy at the store. You have seen what I cook. Please review hot dog slicing and crack cakes. That's as exciting as it gets. I have advanced to sometimes making some boiled pieces of Trader Joe's frozen chicken for a big dog show treat for anyone that is really fast. I serve the leftovers in Ikeaware for teaching weave poles and running a-frames. Presentation, presentation, presentation. I'll show you that someday soon. It is a crazy thing to make for someone that doesn't eat animals. Or my sandwich making technique. I slice the tomatoes! Fascinating! I do feel that I may have some talent in the slicing department though.

We have to find a new tv show. It preferably should be shot in West Texas. Because I have this thing now where that's all I feel like watching on a screen. It will probably go away, these things always do. It's sort of how I get viruses. We are having a Marfa film festival soon at our house for all movies, all Marfa. On NPR today, they were interviewing the director of There Will Be Blood about shooting the movie and I had to sit in the feedstore parking lot to listen and get to the barn really late due to hearing about How To Burn an Oil Fire and Build Their Own Derrick, which are things you can do in West Texas. The feedstore border collie peed on my tire. I didn't care. I was too much thinking of building my own oil derrick and letting the dogs run around in the desert and eating meals from the Food Shark. And then I ran out of time to watch tv for you again.

Wave real hard when you see Timmy.

I haven't been telling you much about Timmy lately. See, some of you, my friends, are new friends and you love to hear about agility. And some of you just love me for my Project Runway. But some of you remember back, before the days of agility, when there was Timmy. And he didn't drift along in a fog, and he would likely bark at you and run around in circles and do some tricks.

That seems like it was a long time ago. When you look into his foggy eyes and you see, well, just fog, it's hard to remember the old Timmy. Not for me, but if you were to just see him shuffling along on the street, and then falling off the curb into the gutter and leaping up and starting to fly around on the end of his leash like a jacked up wolverine, you would probably never believe me how he used to be.

Here's the part where you good dog trainers can go tsk-tsk-tsk at the kind of dog trainer I used to be. When I got Timmy, I was in the part of my life where I quit riding horses. I "Lived" in a big warehouse that was also my art studio where you weren't supposed to live. I slept on a futon on top of a packing crate in the corner, and kept some big paintings over my little corner so no one really could tell. Timmy came from the kind of animal shelter that didn't really check on stuff like you don't have a real address. And he was so sad and pathetic and afraid of people, yet high strung and barky at the same time that I think anyone that would take him was one step better than the inevitable euthanization that was just down the road. So Timmy came home with me and learned from an early age that dogs are not allowed to step in paint or eat pieces of motors or plastic flowers. And that was pretty much it for rules from me. He had his own rule that if someone comes in with a motorcycle helmet and their keys on a big fat chain, to run and hide under a table and not come out.

Timmy was a Go Everywhere dog. He went everywhere with me, and a lot of places with his old friend Toby, another dog that sort of "Lived" in the warehouse. If he wasn't with me in my studio, riding around in a milk crate on the back of my bike, or sitting in the front of my truck, he was off with Toby on adventures such as The Time the Dogs Tried to Get on the City Bus By Themselves or The Time The Dogs Crossed the Busy Street to Join a Fraternity By Themselves or The Time The Dogs Discovered That The People That Work In The Kitchen of the Coffee House Will Always Feed Them Muffins When They Show Up in The Kitchen By Themselves. Those are all true stories and Timmy lived through them all.

The only training class he took was once with this old guy, who was The Guy you went to near San Francisco to take dog classes with at the time. He tried to sell me a pinch collar and wanted me to throw a coke can with pennies inside at Timmy. Like so not the me and Timmy vibe. So I just trained him tricks like Dancing Dog and How to Look Like Princess Diana and that was pretty much it. I just took him everywhere with me at a time when I was an artist having art shows and then being a graphic designer that somehow understood What the Kids wanted, because if you were that kind of graphic designer and artist you could get away with bringing your fluffy black dog into all kinds of places. And if no dogs were allowed, say, at a casino in Reno when you were there to see Johnny Cash, well, Timmy fit neatly into a duffle bag and knew when to keep his trap shut. The most agility he ever learned was to do one jump and one tunnel then just get some treats. It wasn't really his thing.


Timmy's been with me for 15 years. Every single day of his life since he was about 6 months old, except for once when Karl took care of him and he thought he was being kidnapped and sat by the door for the whole weekend. Oh yeah, and Camille took care of him one week when I went to Paris and he barfed on her zebra rug and she gave him to Charlie and Brody. I can't really tell how much time I have left with Timmy. Maybe months, maybe years. He had his first ever accident last night. No matter how sick and frail and dementia-y he's been, I've always been able to wake up to know somehow I need to get Timmy out, even if he's not scratching on a wall that he perceives to be a door. I just seem to know. So that freaked me out. Somehow he was lucid enough to know to go pee on the bathroom rug. The only other time I remember peeing in the house was on Halloween at our old house, and the boys came in the living room in rubber Ronald Regan type masks and he peed all over Gary's wall of records, on that old red carpet with the horsehair carpet pad.


I just thought I'd give Timmy a reason to look so surprised. He just looks like that sometimes and then maybe will go crashing through the house and slam into a wall. Also because that's so Juvenile Photoshop 2.1 and guess who was laying there by my side, when I was right there with Photoshop 2.1. Putting extra arms and warts and stuff on the whole art history database when I was supposed to just color correct. Yep. That was a long time ago.

Running a-frame the haul ass way-a primer.

So yesterday you saw how I'm teaching Gustavo his dogwalk. We patch it together on real dogwalks every time we see one (like how often do you just see a dogwalk?) or on my contract trainer of a wobbly patio table thing. A-frame though, is all about Hauling Ass. So we go practice on a real one every time we can. He gets a click when he hits the yellow paint (which so far is almost Every Single Time!) and then he runs out for the reward that I either throw or is waiting in his tupperware.


I can be pretty far away already, I always run really, really fast too. It is like a race.


I have to watch careful so I don't click if he misses it. But I think he's getting it. I think I'm going to raise it a bit soon.


He's the first dog I've trained all by myself. Without really asking for much advice, or having him in a class. Just doing things the way that I want to try and that I think will work for him. This isn't neccessarily a good thing. I don't have proven results to swear by and I'm not always the most disciplined trainer. I obsess on my canopy color and whether my shoes are ugly. My dogs screw up sometimes and I have never, ever won a Steeplechase Finals. Except with Hobbes. And I didn't train him so that doesn't really count. But I just have this feeling that this is all going to work. And it's just kind of funner this way.

Contact training in small spaces-a primer.

When you have a teensy space to train in, it does help to have small dogs. That is a fact I cannot deny. Team Small Dog might have included big dogs by now if we were living on a ranch with space. We patch together a driveway for the poles, make a tunnel out of a box, and have a modified contact trainer/table thing for contacts. You just do what you can do. I practice anywhere, and everywhere I can. What I would do for a big, flat yard...like one would have if one owned a ranch. A real estate story for another day.


We have dabbled in many contacts. My friends that for whatever freakish reason, don't do agility, you see, they have to run FAST over things made of wood and touch the yellow paint with their feet. Easier said than done. Ruby had a 2o/2o that I modified into a running dogwalk and a-frame, and she runs to the end of the teeter, stands for the ride down and runs off. Otterpop has a 4 on the floor that has been modified into a running dogwalk and a-frame, and she slides into a down on the end of the teeter and holds that til it hits. I'm Super Proud of Otterpop's contacts, and Ruby's do pretty good. Her dogwalk can be dicey when she's really fast. We practice it a lot. Gustavo is learning the same teeter as Otterpop, a 2o/2o dogwalk, and a pure running a-frame at speed. I would love to try teaching a Silvia Trkman dogwalk, but with no space to practice consistently, we're just going with the tried and true.


We only practice the a-frame at top speed, channeling Silvia, with it still super low to the ground. We do this not at my house, where there is just no room for a-frames. So I am like the a-frame slut. If you have an a-frame I can lower and practice on, I am there. I am shameless. As for his dogwalk, he's been over the whole thing a few times, but mostly he practices on running down from the top, or on my thing in our backyard. I want it fast, and a solid, quick set of brakes that release just as fast. I have a modified contact trainer wobbling on a patio table sort of wedged up against my house. Looks great! The game is run over there, up on the table, and down the dogwalk board and slam me a contact.


They all like to practice together. I let them do it. It might be bad agility, but it cracks me up to see them throwing out all their different contacts over and over to see if I'll toss anyone some food. Otterpop usually just shoves everyone else off the top of the dogwalk board like some crazy, drunken pirate. Gustavo is pretty serious about his contacts. He's usually like this little party dude, running around like he's on spring break in Mexico and the vodka slurpees are flowing and strippers are everywhere waving banners with his name on them and he would probably be listening to like, Justin Timberlake and texting EVERYONE! But for his dogwalk stop, he makes this great pause, hits his target, stays there for a cookie, like he is SO MATURE, until I release him off to get a stuffed squirrel or a tupperware and the party just starts all over again.

Today we review all the stuff we find when unpacking cars from dog agility.

For us dog agility ladies, our cars are important pieces of our lives. Because we have a lot of stuff to fit into cars. Dogs. And the dog accessories that make our lives soft and cushy on the weekends at the dog shows.


So in my car, Product Placement 1999 Honda CR-V, I have to fit 3-4 dogs, and all their/our stuff if we are going on an agility outing. This may include, but is not limited to: sheets because I am a freak about motel beds, frisbees, jackets for cold days, a little fan for hot days, crates, water, food, shade cloth, xpen, chair, wheely cart to drag it all around on, a blanket for the dogs, sunscreen, soccer cleats, and The Canopy.


The canopy is what kind of ruined it all for me. When I started taking Ruby to agility trials, I just took her, some treats, and a fold up crate and snuck it under a tree or the canopy of anyone that would tolerate us. People are nice. Entirely too nice when you have a Ruby in a crate who used to growl at dogs that got anywhere near her crate. And me who is alternately anti-social or yacking your head off about a piece of property I am trying to buy. Nowadays, Ruby seems to just act invisible and never comes out of her crate until it's her turn. I still have borderline personality issues that may or may not make you want to hang out with me.


But as I started adding on dogs, I started adding on accessories. An xpen, so the dogs could have a little more space. A folding chair, that I use to put stuff on. Just like my non folding chairs at home. A cooler, so I could bring better treats and healthy vegetables to forget to eat and champagne for special events. A cover for the xpen in case one of the dogs is Gustavo who used to want to escape. Although has stopped escaping, thanks to the additional accessory of little clamps that make the cover even more jail-like. A giant purse to put stuff like the frisbees and soccer shoes and hat and extra shirts and snacks in.


So that didn't just fit under most people's canopies, who already had multiple border collies and xpens to fit. People still tried to squeeze me and my small dogs in, thanks Jim and Roxy! But I had to one day, get my own tent thing. You know them. How you spot Dog Agility Trial from the road. Just look for the sea of blue Product Placement EZ Ups and Quik Shades. Ugly, gangling, portable canopies that take up a lot of room in a car. That you breathe a sigh of relief when you have a good one that goes up and down in a flash. And you have your own hammer to pound the stakes in that keep it from blowing off into whatever cow pasture or garbage dump or Lowe's parking lot is next door to the dog agility. And then that whole ugly business needs hanging panels of shade to keep the dogs cool. Functional, but almost so gut burstingly, heinously, horribly ugly that anyone who Takes Design Seriously has almost quit dog agility over them. Right? Like you can barely go back to your tent to get a dog after gating or running or whatever because the blue tent top and hanging shade panels that make your dogs so cool almost make you fall down weeping right then and there.

And then, just to pound that nail down harder into the coffin, you need the Wheels to drag this repellant pile around which are also heavy and ugly and cost you money on your Product Placement Visa Card and take a lot of space in the car. It goes on and on. My set up is minimal, compared to a lot of people that bring little tables. Misting systems. Dog pools. Giant floor placemats to keep all feet from touching grass. Reclining astronaut chairs. I don't know what else. Mine used to all match at least, some crossover from my life as one of the horsey set and the world of horse show tackroom setups. All things were dark red but that just sort of faded away as dogs got added and I'm left with a visual that will someday get worked out, but for now leaves a blotch in the design of my life.

In this episode, we go to CPE on our own home turf.

I didn't even tell you we were going to a dog show on Easter. It was CPE. Low key. A fast drive away. Maybe you were eating chocolate. Maybe you were at some other Easter Dog show. Why are there dog shows on Easter? Sundays are just Sundays are just Sundays.

At CPE, I am not attached. I run better, because I just don't care. I believe I am sloppy sometimes, I chit chat outside the ring right before a run and I don't always focus so fierce. But I think I am not so uptight as at USDAA. I guess. I don't really FEEL uptight at USDAA, but I do feel like the competiton is So Good, all those World Teamie Types, and I always want to measure up, look ship shape. Like a big girl. CPE is sort of like you are wearing your jammies and ugg boots at Safeway, pushing the shopping cart around in the ice cream aisle and it's just ok to do that sometimes. There are no ugg boots and jammies at USDAA. Just matching track suits and Dita shoes all around.


Ruby, you were a star. I took any weave pole pressure off. I let you run right out of the ring in Standard after you did the poles so nice and just didn't want you to have to finish that course. I have no problem doing the sacrificial Q's in CPE. Sometimes just run out and party on, Garth. You did not hit any bars WHATSOEVER all weekend. And a couple runs you blew me away with your insane speed and border collie-esque styling. You were so DAMN fun to run that I thought, that's right. This is agility. This is the craziest, funnest thing you can do and this is why we do this. I think you got a bunch of Q's. I didn't ever check the scores. I just didn't care. I wanted you fast and clean and no pressure at poles and that's what we did and it worked. Your first class of the morning, Jackpot, was nuts and I could barely handle you but I ran out of the ring screaming for you to come over to the table to stop the clock because you were heading somewhere else, just insane to be on the course. I love that. It's bad agility, but I love it.


Otterpop you tried the hardest you have tried in a long time. You gave me 2 very, very fast runs. You had a couple slow ones with fast endings. But you never, ever thought about melting down and doing damage out there. You decided you would try hard to hold it together and hold it together you did. I was shocked in your Jackpot run at how fast you were, and made you easy, fun courses after that, screw the point value. Your snookers sucked speedwise, but you seemed surprised at my handling and went with it. I used a new technique called Feel The Love Otterpop. I thought, what if I was Otterpop. No one really likes her. She's mean, and she's funny looking. She is the weird kid at school that everyone hates and there's rumors about how her hair stinks and she has spiders in her underpants. I am her only friend and she will feel the love of dog agility with me. So I chatted it up with you on the course, against all things we know about Using Just the Facts, Ma'am. And it felt a little weird but I just kept you close every step and you decided that you would not commune with zombies and you had this one STELLAR teeter, in standard, and I just sat there with you laying there on the down contact, as it hit the ground, telling you how fabulous it was. People were like, um, that clock is ticking but I just wanted you to Feel the Love, Otterpop. And you just went Q, Q, Q for the love of it.

So yeah. It was Groovy. Feel the Love. No Pressure. Go for the Joy. It was like a hippie inspirational poster with a seagull. A saying you could engrave on a rock and give it to someone when you can't think of what to get them for Christmas. We can't always run like that. I hate seagulls and I hate those rocks. Someday it will click, Otterpop. I looked up Ruby's records and she is very close to a C-ATCH, the big championship of CPE. I think I am going to just put that folder up on a shelf and ignore it and look at it later so we can have these enjoyable CPE's of no pressure and just big fun. Like I should with USDAA. Someday. When I get the stick out of the butt of my matching track suit I guess.

Gardening tips to make your Easter dirtier.

My 4 dogs have different dysfunctional relationships with each other. Ruby and Otterpop are inseperable, but have also had ugly loca girl fights with teeth and fingernail scratching before. Timmy and Ruby were once a unit, but now Timmy drifts alone in some sort of fog we don't understand. When I got Gustavo, I didn't know who he would pick. I tied him to Otterpop for a while when we were out somewhere and he had no recall because she doesn't leave my site. Ruby is pretty aloof, but Otterpop only likes about 6 dogs and people in the whole universe.


Gustavo picked her. My bad girl dog. The one who is the a unibomber manifesto writing, fast motorcycle driving, too much and crooked lipstick with thick liquid eyeliner wearing, word slurring, screaming Tanya Harding of a dog. The leader of doing things naughty. Who makes the others run for cover, so I am sure to know who was the dog who just dug the hole. One dog doesn't run for cover though, in fact eggs her on. Is unafraid of her tyrannical rule. Steals the massive chunk of wood from right inside her mouth. Shoves her right off the chair that no one else dare share. In fact never got the memo that she is to be feared and revered, and in fact just runs circles around the little beast.

I like to think that the toothless, shirtless old guy that ran out in the street in front of my car yesterday evening, weilding a machete and wearing a greasy old hat on his stringy old hair, was wishing me Happy Easter in his own way. Sort of like Otterpop might.

A useful thing for Guns and Roses.

A nice thing to do, if you're on the way to work, and today there was no time to run the dogs, or let the puppy practice weave poles, let alone take him to practice his lowered running a-frame, is just get in the car, with the windows down, and play some Guns and Roses really loud. Maybe you would like Welcome to the Jungle. For a few minutes, you won't have that hateful feeling that all this would be possible if the ranch was just at your own house. And it will erase all the weird dreams you had in the night.

Time Management for the well oiled dog agility team-a primer.

Lest I led you to believe the other day that I live a life of leisure, having all the time in the world to chase pitbulls down the street with boards, and run around after rangers like a paparazzi obsessed with their assault rifles, I thought I should take you behind the scenes to the life that is Team Small Dog. A well oiled machine. Maybe the kind that is weirdly oiled with perhaps the wrong kind of oil. But it is the oil that is like the weak spit activated paste that holds the dog agility team together to make dog agility function as super as it does for my team. Otterpop who barks at judges. Ruby who knocks rails. Gustavo who just runs fast yet screams like a monkey and plots escape from the xpen. Someday maybe could be a whole DAM team! Damn Team will be their name.

So you should probably know I have a horse business and I do not have my own ranch. Someday, you will hear THAT whole story. I believe it is actually called writing a book to tell that story. But I currently lease a very nice, large horse ranch that is 45 minutes away from my house to run my training program at. In case you are worried, I am a way better horse and rider trainer than dog agility trainer. Lots better. Dog agility is more hobby that the accountant has figured out how to write off for me. Actually, I do love teaching it too. But I have a little, teensy ways to go with that whole career.

So to get me and the dogs out of the house to work, is the whole oily part. Typically I am gone away from my house, and Timmy, from early in the morning til night time. And now with the whole armed Rangers in the park wanting to ticket me scenario, I need to get the dogs out to run either real early or to the beach on the way. And same thing on the way home. And if it is an especially good day, I could even go to practice with the dogs on the way to work. That part has to be the very oiliest machine of them all. So, come with me on a short tutorial of good time management tips that maybe can make Your Life As Smooth and Oily as mine.


Coffee is important. Actually, is the most important part. If there is no coffee, there is no team small dog. Getting out of the door is not even a remote possibility.


This is where the magic happens. That has to happen like early before running away from rangers, but after the first round of coffee. The magic used to happen in a special room called an office but that was before Roofers and Rain and No Time to Replaster. You all like it that the magic happens every morning, right? Time management, baby.


Packing a lunch. If it is a typical day, my husband brought us home pizza to eat for dinner at like 10pm or whatever ungodly hour we usually eat dinner at. And it makes a super lunch.


We also have weird food items in the house due to the no grocery shopping issue. My dad sent me a giant box of grapefruit hand picked from his tree! I have the nicest dad ever! I eat a lot of grapefruit right now! And the dogs can eat the string cheese which is a good thing to buy TONS of at Trader Joes. I ALWAYS make sure to at least buy stuff for the dogs. I am nice like that.


OK. Lunch packed. Time for dog pills for our Timmy.


Where is Timmy? Here's these ones. They are always milling about and howling and causing trouble but Timmy tends to wander and he could be anywhere, including stuck in a corner in a closet. Or under piece of furniture. Never, ever, lose Timmy.


Found him. Give him pills. He had a nice shuffle around the block and he is ready for his day as a stay at home dog. Don't worry. My husband works like 5 minutes away and comes to visit him at lunch. He is nice like that. I do worry horribly about Timmy every day and I hate leaving him alone so much but he is too old and demented to come to work.


Next phase begins known as looking for the keys. Every day we do this. Sometimes looking for Timmy at the same time if I've lost him again in the backyard.


In a door. Bad place to leave keys.


Dogs need to get in the car.


Get in the crate now Otterpop!


Mayhem in the car ensues as everyone is trying to get in everyone's crates and it is like Crate Games Susan Garrett! In my car and I just want to leave and they are jumping into crates like mayhem!


Have keys. Have lunch. Timmy secured. Cannot get down driveway because I have forgotten it is garbage day. It is just a tiny driveway and most of it is filled with weave poles. Which we did not have time to practice this morning, due to all of the above.


This kind of day, I need my special ipod soothing music. Like a playlist that is a mixture of Christmas songs by Andy Williams and Willy Nelson songs about cowboys. Works better than X or old David Bowie even for smoothing crinky nerves. Thank you for always being there for me, Ipod. Not like our new friend Bluetooth that needs to be recharged.

We finally made it out. I even had time to practice with the dogs. I did manage to forget all their leashes and they had to be tied up with dog toys and random pieces of string. We don't have down stays by two thirds of the team if one third of the team is practicing. We just do tying to the fence. But I didn't pack a piece of fruit. I forgot to email a lot of people and didn't pay any bills or register my truck yet or plaster my office. I have a backup of paperwork. But I did some crazy fast running super lowered a-frames with Gustavo and some fast little sequences based on turning Tight! with the other ones. And made it to work not too late although maybe forgot to pull someone's stitches and call someone's mom back. So actually. My time management might need a little improvement. Because we need time to practice those weave poles next time. Priorities.

We take a break from dog agility reporting for Marfa.

First deer says to the second deer-"Where could we possibly ever be safe? They would shoot us with assault rifles in the field. I think people in Marfa might have assault rifles too. And pretty soon, all the dog owners in California will carry them. You know, to defend themselves against the Rangers."

Second deer says to the first deer-"We would be safe inside the Marfadome. That's where. And I think there is a desert next door and room for the horses and dog agility and everyone to just run."

My husband says, with the look on his face that means You And Your Hairbrained Schemes, over his dead body would he ever move to Marfa. Normal people do not just move to Texas from California. Well, he also said No More Dogs and No More Taxidermy in the House.

Here is a yoga thing for you to do.

Because you'll have to turn your head sideways and be able to scroll at the same time. I went to yoga this week. I think the teacher called this pose sideways facing noose right around your neck til you choke. Usually it is a good idea to have a beer after yoga. You can do this. You're sitting in a chair. Well, yeah have a beer or just turn your head when you scroll in a second. I know you came in for screen spitting and today I just will hurt your neck and you don't even get to laugh. Because that's the kind of dog agility lady I really am. Squinty eyed and mean and just wondering how do I make their necks ache today?

I know. I just go on and on about this field. One person's field is another person's Marfa is another person's craw sticking potsticker. It's just a big, flat 33 acre parcel with some willows and cypress trees perched next door to the sea, near my house. Was saved from becoming a giant hotel in the '70's. There are a lot of paths and all I do there is walk around every single morning. The dogs run. Sometimes I run. Sometimes I shuffle when Timmy comes and lift him up and over the big log. When Timmy was springy he rode there in a milk crate on the back of my bike and I let him out there and he would chase my bike everywhere.

Everyone shares it. Hippies. Drug dealers. Homeless people. Kids. Tourists. Surfers. Ladies. Men. Guys with parrots on their shoulders. People on stilts. Film makers. Drunk teenagers. Dog trainers. Landscape painters. UCSC students in butterfly costumes. Actual endangered butterflies. Models in bikinis in photo shoots. Brides. The crazy guy that puts raw chicken out for the animals. Bongo drummers. We all tolerate each other.

OK. Maybe I let my dogs run on top of sleeping homeless people in their wet sleeping bags and bark at them. And maybe it was me that left a note for the mom of the crazy guy that left the raw chicken offerings asking her to tie him up or something to keep him from leaving so much raw meat out there. And usually I am anti social when I walk out there and if you see me I might not even talk to you and I scowl unless I remember my New Years resolution. I get mad when you feed my dogs and teach them to run up to you and jump on you, and you don't get it when I say stuff like, "Hey thanks for rewarding them to jump on you!" Or I might just roll my eyes when you ask me, gesturing at Timmy, "Oh, is that the mommy dog and you kept all her babies?" I think people have mean names for me behind my back. Mean Dog Lady of All the Little Black Dogs. That Bitch. But you get the picture. We're still sharing, even if we the Way I Share is weird and not like the Way You Share.

But the Rangers with the firearms are enforcing the law that it is not to be shared with dogs anymore unless they are tied on to you.

This long story about a Saint's Day just gets uglier by the second.

As part of our lazy ass day off screwing around, I mean our solid training regime, I make sure that the dogs who competed Sunday have a nice day Monday off relaxing. Also being criminals since it is the first Official Day of Ticketing at Lighthouse Field. So let's just chronicle a typical, relaxing day in Santa Cruz for your basic dog owner.


First thing. Practice your weave poles if you have a foundation level dog. Even if it's a shrinky dink 12lb dog, the goal is to make him look like a teensy little border collie. Give 'em hot dogs. Whatever you want. I don't care.

So for my fine Agility dogs' rest day (yeah Otterpop, how hard was that half a standard run?), how about a nice walk? Something told me today, hey, even though that tiny silver pocket camera sometimes goes on the fritz, just bring it for a relaxing walk. Just do. I left Timmy at home and decided to hoof it to the beach since it was low tide and such a fine day.


So here's the home of a popular professional surfer that also happens to have a drug problem. He lives with a bunch of guys down the street from me. I believe "meth house" has been used to describe their charming beach bungalow. See that Ford Ranger with the window halfway down? Look who's sitting in the front seat.


It's Mr. One Eyed Pirate Pitbull with balls. And guess what he does when Team Small Dog walks by.

He jumps out and goes for the team. Boy does that get up my craw. I drop their leashes so they scatter, he selects Otterpop, I get in there and, since there's no weapon in the middle of the street, I hope to god he isn't going to pull major dog kill on one of my dogs or me. He hasn't put teeth in her. I get in his face and look big and scarey and holler and he backs off a bit, giving my dogs room to clear out. I quick look around, there's a board at the house next door in some trash piled up and I grab it and chase him back to his truck like I am going to beat the crap out of him. Which I would if my dogs are in danger.

So then, what's the most rational thing to do? How about yelling at their house, "HEY WHOEVER HAS THE F*ING PITBULL IN THE FORD RANGER YOUR ASSHOLE DOG IS LOOSE AND WENT AFTER MY DOGS!"

And then there's no response. I should tell you. In these situations, I go into Luz Benedict, Matriarch of Reata Ranch in Giant, Ranch Lady Voice. And you know what happens to her right up in the begining of the movie. She jabs her spurs too hard into Whirlwind one too many times and Auf Weidershnicken.

So what would be a better idea? How about this. Going up to their fence and hollering in ranch lady voice "HEY F*ING METH HEADS WITH THE ASSHOLE PITBULL YOUR F*ING DOG IS LOOSE! YEAH! YOU METH HEADS! GET YOUR PITBULL!" over it, keeping an eye and raised up board menaced the bad dog's way. My dogs are sort of hanging out in the middle of the street right now, looking quizzical but being smart. Their nice agility owner lady has such a potty mouth when provoked.


Their neighbors, teenage dudes sporting colors, come out. I know their family has a herd of feral little chihuahuas that are always loose in the street so I tell them look out for that pitbull, went after these dogs. They sort of snort, like thinking, "that lady loca" and they take off in their lowered old car with super flake metallic paint job that I always admire. Old piratey pitbull just hanging out by the truck, because now he's stuck. Crazy lady has a board and might kill him, and he can't get in. No meth heads coming out of the house to save him. Maybe they are actually crack heads and they thought I was yelling at someone else. I move on, leaving him to attack the next dogs that come by.


I was going to take you a relaxing photo of the sea. That's when I notice camera starts doing this. Goddammit. I have the worst luck with cameras. It's because I didn't get the pitbull back in the truck. Or I do weave poles without tugging. I'm not wearing green. I am being struck down today.

Now, today is the first offical day of Ticketing for Off Leash dogs at Lighthouse Field. To my new pals here, don't even get me started. In a nutshell, the 33 acre field and beach in my neighborhood that has always been off leash now isn't. Too long of a 7 year story of heartbreak and irritation and backhanded politics to go into. Check out the website if you want.

So as I get to the beach, at low tide, where I always run my dogs, here comes one of the hippies from the hippie parking lot, being chased by a ranger out of the field. I know my camera is acting up, but I don't tell Mr. Ranger. What personality flaw do I have that makes me do stuff like this? So even though it's not working, I pretend it is and get in his face channeling now part Ranch Lady and part Journalistic Paparazzi, while he's giving hippie girl, part of the clan that lives in their cars in this one parking lot, her official warning. She seems happy to have me there because I am asking a lot of official sounding questions about court and tickets and legal loopholes, and Mr. Ranger wearing a firearm (not the one I had the little, um, could we say, chit chat with last month) is taking it in stride.


I stroll West Cliff above the beach with him, as he looks down for prey. We chat about the situation and I quiz him and note his answers. Then his pal comes. We have today 3 armed Ranger Officers Joe, KP, and TE out looking for criminals that look just like me. They won't answer questions about their pets or personal lives. They all have different takes on The Situation, and different ideas of what the State's strategy is. I tell each one I'm conducting interviews for this momentous occasion. They are less than thrilled and after about 10 minutes my novelty wears off. Especially Ranger Officer KP. He wants me gone.


A few other locals are there, wondering what to do. The ranger SUV's are circling the park. It's a $211 ticket to walk our dogs in our park now. I'm already past the official warning period. It just didn't feel right to throw myself in as ticket martyr on the first day. It would have felt undramatic and anti climatic since I'd been "interviewing" them now for like 20 minutes. So I just tagged along with them and their Official Warnings until they made it REAL clear that I had to go. Now. I kept following them. I do believe I irritated them back into their trucks. And then they stayed in their vehicles after that, just driving around and around, in the park and on West Cliff. My beloved park felt like creepy Nazi camp.


They faded back. I ran the dogs around for a bit. My heart wasn't in it. My heart felt like it was muffled and gagged on a sunny beach day. Here's what my dogs look like in jail in a place and time when we would normally just be running. Just running.

You say Madera, I say Near Fresno.

So you have been wondering, all weekend I know, how did Team Small Dog fare at the dog agility show in Madera? Was Super 8 Motel really 2 better than Motel 6? Would there be zombies, or even worse, race car noises there? And perhaps you also recalled, that Hobbes, super coolest border collie of the world, was needing only 1 little Q in Masters Standard to finish his Lifetime Achievement Platinum. Only the highest award in USDAA, only 500 Q's. And you remember that Hobbes is not my dog, I am just his stalker. His actual owner and dog Trainer, he got most of those 500. But that maybe it was going to be my job again to get that last Q, or to not. Or maybe you were just wondering about whether or not to have a momosa with your fried eggs instead of just boring old juice. And you know I brought champagne for just in case of the LAA Platinum actually occurring this time.

First of all. Madera used to be this rural country fairground, with trees and fields, and a giant car racing track next door. Now the directions to get there are drive through Los Banos where there are millions of crappy new tract houses built ready to be foreclosed on, drive to near Fresno, turn at Walmart, drive through the construction for more Walmarts and houses to foreclose, then there is a little grass and tree patch there where you can have a dog show. Our rural California ag lands are turning so wrong and make me want to cry and anguish what do we ALL NEED at Walmarts and their gazillion minions?

So. Are you wondering more about Hobbes or the small dogs? I suspected as much. OK. Here's how the 26" Masters Standard went down. It is my theory, being a bad dog trainer, that Hobbes's intelligence is so superior to mine that he sees the table when he's waiting for his turn, and decides to knock a bar before the table, does a nice down on it, and then sometimes gets run out of the ring for some chicken since he already has 5 faults and he did a nice table so give him a prize. Um, did I mention that Hobbes has this neurosis about the table? He may be perfect and I love him like a stalker should, but he has some idiosyncracies.

Rob already thinks I am nuts, so he just says, do whatever the hell will get him to go clean. Also he has been working hard on his jumping skills recently, since he is a good dog trainer and not reliant on voodoo and hair brained theories about the mind of the genius species border collie. But at this point, I have been dragging champagne around for a while and let's just get that Q. So I don't let him see the ring until it's his turn.

So he is going around and he has not hit a bar. I am like not saying a word since I am one of those calling over bar types. You know I have the only 12" dog that hits bars on a regular basis. Today included. He is getting the contacts. Everything is lovely. He gets on the table. And he does the thing. Hobbes you almost broke my heart right there, your favorite stalker, I take you on walks and let you play with rocks and cigarette butts and twigs. He just stands there staring at me. So all I can think of to do is slowly lower myself down staring into his eyes, down to my knees, using all my psychic abilities that I don't have but just trying to be all Amazing Kreskin like and levitate his standing up self into a down.


He does it. We finish. It's clean. Hooray for Hobbes and Rob on their biggest, hugest award you can get! I am proud to be a teensy part of it.


OK. So moving on. Next dog. Ruby, you were on fire. You were awesome. But you hit some bars and that cost us some Q's. And a refusal at the poles based on your personal neurosis/nemesis in Masters Standard (but thanks for an awesome table and no bars in there!). But aside from 2 bars and that pole moment, she ran better than she has in a while, and her jumpers, where of course, according to my custom, it was the LAST BAR, was just wonderful and fun and fast and I even was DEAD QUIET over every bar but you just had to throw that in there because you keep me honest and ADCh free.

My friend Otterpop. You blew me away with your FAST snookers run. And then, at the very end, in the closing 7 bit, I sent you in a contraband tunnel. But I was so proud of you and your maturity level and non paranoia! I thought, wow! She has turned over a new leaf! All our practice. And confidence building. I have become a good dog trainer! And then it was her turn for standard. And in she went, and over a bunch of stuff, doing allright, and into the poles. Where the judge happened to be standing. And Otterpop, she of poles I am actually Super Proud Of, looks at the judge harder and harder every pole until she pops out at 10, runs to the judge and barks in her face. And the judge looks at me, VERY STINK EYE, and says, "You are excused." You are thinking, oh, a starters dog. No. Otterpop is in masters. Yep.


Shamed. I was shamed. I picked her up, didn't say a word, marched her in my arms to the car and left her there. Until Jumpers, where she had a great, fast, lovely and smooth run and not a bobble or eyeball on the judge and there you go. But. I. Was. Shamed. A scarlet B pinned upon my breast for BADLY. BEHAVED. BARKER. BUTTHEAD.

Moving quickly on. Gustavo. I am very proud of us both. Me that I finally devised a way to keep you in the xpen with everyone and no more escaping ever. You that you stayed in the pen and were of course charming and well behaved every time you got to go hang out. Had I actually watched the whole DVD of Crate Games instead of drinking margaritas, this would of course not be an issue that he wants to escape whenever I run a dog. I have the Crate Games-esque Lite version of Puppy Rocket Launcher Pod I used to do with him to teach him to jump and go out to stuff, launching him to and from his crate on the agility field. But because of margaritas and short attention span of myself, he does not stay put in jail all by himself unless it involves a lid and clamps and such. Sorry dogs that you are in jail so much of the day but you kind of don't seem to mind.


And then we drove home into the wind. Oh, I had a medicore, bar hitting Steeplechase finals with Hobbes, probably won Rob enough money for a couple gallons of gas, but it's ok I guess. He has a Prius. And a LAA Platinum.

Timmy has to stay home though.

Well, here's a treat. Right after work today, we are taking a field trip to Madera, California. Madera. It is near Fresno. It is one of THOSE kind of drives. The kind where the getting up has to be REALLY early to drive there Sunday morning and I am just selecting turning it into a Fun Vacation. So, last night I packed up the car. Bought some snacks. And late this afternoon, me and the team will drive through the predicted thunderstorms to near Fresno. To the Super 8 Motel! This is sort of a luxury digs, not the normal Motel 6. We upgraded by 2.

I know. I am an anomaly in the dog agility world being a one day of trial go-er. I have a small business that is just a pain in the ass to leave on Saturdays. Can be a pain in the ass to ever leave it. It involves horses. And their people. And my control freak self. So while all of you pack up and drive to dog agility on Friday evening and spend a couple nights there, have 2 whole days (or, in the case of the mega trials, 4 whole days) to get your Q's and work out your bugs, I have one day. It's just how my dices roll.

Every so often I have orchestrated the mission that is taking a day off of work. And actually gone to a dog show on a Saturday. It was helpful to have an extra day, like 2 chances for Standard Q's! A day to work out the bugs that are the bar knocking and the zombies. Steeplechase! This is the big reason I orchestrate the mission, because Steeplechase is always on Saturday and how would I do Steeplechase otherwise? Or DAM team? Do you see the problems I wrestle with in my life? I am like the only person with no ADCh. Which now will be a Performance ADCh. Someday. Since we had to start over with Performance Q's and Still No Super Q's. Whine. Like when I was a kid and I was the ONLY girl with the Hot Wheels lunchbox. I KNOW I picked it out, Mom. It's the one I Had To Have. It is my own consequences and I should just shut up now.

And, on the shiney side, with multiple dogs, multiple days of dog showing every month would be really, ouch. The entries. The motel. Lots of you sleep in your cars, I know. And work full time at the trial doing hard jobs. I am not a car sleeper. Or a good and cheerful all day worker. More of gate person/pole setter for some lunch worker. I am more like the discount shopper of the dog agility. Working to make money on Saturday, instead of spending more money at the dog show and losing money at work, even my bonehead accounting skills can work out that one. So one day-er I am. And usually not a motel-er, but for Madera, I'm making the splurge. Fun! Vacation! Motel!

I will have Illinois to think about driving out there. Do you like Sufjan Stevens? He is making a cd of each of our nation's 50 states. I just put Illinoise in my ipod. It is sort of like Simon and Garfunkel if they had a giant marching band and orchestra and made a film score for a movie that was about history and maybe quasi religious butterflies. I think that is super suitable for driving to near Fresno in the rain on Saturday after work with 3 small dogs.

Whatever you do, don't let Oprah tip over.

I used to make sure to watch Oprah on my day off. For a long time, my friend Anthony would call me at the end of his Oprah, which was 3pm, before my Oprah began, which was 4pm. To discuss Oprah. And ways to get rich off the Internet that involved gay porn and a lot of cameras. He was in the Los Angeles time zone, I was in the Santa Cruz time zone. I'm not sure why our Oprahs were on at different times just because of being NorCal and SoCal, but they were. When you have dogs, and one day off, Oprah is sort of like floor washing time. And laundry. Right? Tell me it isn't.

I will admit. I probably watched Oprah with Irony. Most of the time. Except for when she did makeover shows. And would give away stuff to people. Then I wished I was an Oprah guest. I would nod in agreement with her real good. Except I think they screen what the audiences look like and I am pretty sure I wouldn't have made it through the screening. Maybe now that I am over FORTY, and maybe they hand out Oprah appropriate outfits at the door. Because the audience is always color coordinated, down to the lipstick. In a color that sets off Oprah's outfit just right. And like blouses and sweaters.


Then I had a dream I could become Oprah's dog nanny in Montecito on her giant ranch. That is one place I would like to move, even more than Marfa. Closer to LA. Except it's even more expensive than buying a ranch here, so my only hope would be to tend to Oprah's dogs and I guess run around with them on her expansive lawns a lot. I don't think she has horses. That was my best way I could think of to get rich and have my dream ranch. Just become Oprah's dog nanny and sort of sponge off of her on her ranch, just running around with her dogs. She'd let me bring my dogs. She's so Giving that way.


So Anthony, he passed away. He never got rich. I'm still here. I lost my taste for Oprah on Mondays. I still haven't bought a ranch. I guess there's still time. But I do get to run around with my dogs a lot. Sometimes on expansive lawns, sometimes on dirt, sometimes at the beach, sometimes down the sidewalk. And Oprah, you have your giant airplanes and houses and cashmere bathrobes and I don't even know what else. But I bet you hardly don't ever run around with your dogs. So I think I have that on you Oprah.

Dirt Nite-What it Really Looks Like.

Here it is. It is your proof. When I talk about dirt night, it really is that dirty. That's Ruby and Otterpop, and Fate and Hobbes. All tied to a post together in the dirt. Hobbes isn't my real border collie, he is like my practice border collie. He belongs to my instructor. I run him in class and in some stuff at the dog shows because I only have little dogs. If I had my own border collie, I would want him to be exactly, completely like Hobbes. He is my favorite dog in the whole world besides my dogs. I am like his stalker. Hobbes thinks I'm ok. I think anyone that can run fast and will tug on a thing with him is ok with him. I am supposed to not hit bars with him. In theory.


Here's the thing with dirt night. Everything lives in that trailer until dirt nite. Then we get there before the students come, take everything out of the trailer, drag it up to the ring, set it up, have a bunch of classes, then after our late class, drag it back to that trailer. We're good at it. We've been doing it a long time. Every Wednesday night. We are like Teamsters. Yes, it's a pain in the ass. It is the pain we do in the name of dog agility. This is why we have advil.


This is a pretty utilitarian shot. You know I am allergic to the flash on a camera, right? Hate it. I have a thing about the flash. Just gives me the creepies. I would rather take a picture in the dark and hold real, real still for a long time. So I tried to take all these before it got too dark. Because now we have the daylight savings, which also means we are like zombies in the morning and have to have extra coffee. Because we just taught agility, ran agility, and dragged thousands of pounds of agility stuff in and out of a trailer as a neat after work activity instead of something like, oh say, dinner. We can unset a course and stuff it back in that trailer FAST. Usually it is a panic to get home before Project Runway starts. Now there's time to sit back and smell the dirt since Season 4 ended.

Let's watch everyone stay on the table.


Mary and Ariel. You met them once when I went to CPE and I took their picture at 4:30am. Be nice to Mary about her new blondeish hair.


Linda and Jazper. They were my performance DAM team with Ruby in December. Jazper barks a lot. Doesn't this weird no flash, covered arena fluourescent lighting make Dirt Nite look mysterious and other worldly? Yeah. It's just like that.


Rob and Fate. There was an article about him in Clean Run that called him Agility's Mr. Nice Guy. He is pretty nice, even when I make Hobbes hit a bar. At least he still lets me run him. He has gotten used to it that one of his dogs has their own stalker.

It was a good Dirt Nite. A few bars from Hobbes due to a couple late front crosses. I am SO SORRY Hobbes! I HATE it when I do that. I love running a 26" dog. If that dog is Hobbes. I love running really, really fast to put in front crosses where others say, "but that looks dangerous." It's like a disease. Hi. I am Laura and I am a Front Crosser. Ruby and Otterpop were super speedy and no weird antics, thank god Project Runway is done with for now and Heidi is locked back into her box. It was a 3 dog night for me. Maybe I am skinnier today? And I ran with a frisbee to keep Otterpop fast and frantic. Maybe someday they would have Steeplechase Where You Get to Bring Your Toy in the Ring. Yeah. And maybe it would actually be at the dog show in Marfa.

Hello and Welcome to the movie Giant

OK. Let's take a break from exhausting ourselves over tugging vs. treats. Goodness gracious does that get us riled up. Because last night, I finally watched Giant!


Giant was filmed in 1956 in Marfa, Texas. As part of our Marfa Film Festival, it is pivotal! Everyone should see it before Blood for Oil. There Will Be Milkshakes. You know what I mean. It is sort of like a Texan Gone With the Wind, and is about race, class, gender and oil and cattle! Who knew? I just thought it was all about the cowboys. It is 3 hours long, and never ONCE PUT ME TO SLEEP! I know you are all very busy people, so this will be quick. This is my new favorite movie ever!


This is the famous Reata Ranch of Marfa.

Besides having a social justice message and Marfa, it has:


square dancing


Texas parades


super fierce 50's evening wear


cowboys


cowboys driving across marfa in convertibles


scenic vistas with ranch gates and vintage typography

Join me for a Whirlwind tour of Giant!


Rock Hudson meets Liz Taylor when he goes to Maryland to buy her horse. They get married and move to Marfa! Where he is the king of all ranchers, with the biggest ranch which is a huge chunk of Texas. His name in the movie is Jordan Benedict and also Bick.


Liz's horse bucks off Rock's sister Luz, who ALWAYS speaks in ranch lady voice, and kills her. But that means James Dean gets some land for some oil wells! No one likes James Dean, whose movie name is Jet Rink.


James Dean strikes it rich. He was poor, but didn't hate Mexicans. Rock was rich, and did hate Mexicans. Liz was rich, but didn't hate Mexicans, but was a woman.


Rock and Liz have 3 kids. Dennis Hopper will play this kid soon. This one hates his new pony.


James Dean becomes rich with the oil will have a parade soon!


Liz and Rock sleep in seperate beds like Lucy and Ricky.


James Dean puts a lot of oil wells on Reata Ranch because none of Rock and Liz's kids want to grow up to become Ranch Kings and grow cows. They just want a pool and a plane.


Look, it's Dennis Hopper who marries a Mexican woman and becomes a doctor. His movie sister wants a small ranch and the wild sister almost has sex with James Dean then goes to Hollywood.


James Dean invites everyone to the city he buys for a party and has a total "I drink your milkshake" meltdown.


They all go home and on the way Rock gets his ass kicked in a diner over racism by Sarge and they all return to the ranch for a happy ending based on civil rights.


I am not even kidding, at over 3 hours long, it did not put me to sleep! There was only one dog in it, James Dean had a spotty dog when he was poor. There he is, under the oil well that started it all.


Many horses in this movie and one horse will die but you don't have to see it happen. Rock Hudson shoots it himself, that pesky Whirlwind the expensive stallion.

There you go. I think you will like this movie if you like Marfa, horses, 50's clothing, cowboy hats and dog agility. Whew. If you made it all the way through here, I commend you with a click and treat and you just keep scrolling down for more dog agility. You know me. Sometimes I just have to go to Marfa.

Oh and PS. I did put poles in a little sequence for Gustavo yesterday. With some wires on the entries and channels, but still. Guess whose puppy has weave poles now? Thanks chickens who died for his hot dogs!

Cookin' with the Team-A weave pole cooking primer

OK. We haven't had a cooking show in a while. Today we're going to slice up some raw hot dogs!


Did you know I don't even really eat meat? Haven't had a cow or a pig or a fowl since high school. I do like my sushi and anything I shoot myself. And I HAVE been thinking about becoming a cattle rancher in Marfa. But for dog training, I am busting out the meat. I got some hot dogs made out of joyful and grateful chickens that apparently threw themselves right into the grinder at the moment before their natural death from healthy old age on their luxury chicken farm in Petaluma.


Ya slice 'em up real small if you have real small dogs. Gustavo is today's chicken eater, and he is my smallest dog. He will jump 12" and he weighs in at a puny, yet still teeter tipping, 12 lbs.


I put 'em in a teensy tupperware that you can get at Ikea. A whole set of a million for like $5.


Don't forget to put the rest away so no one gets salmonella or is tempted to attack the counter or so you can get a snack.

Allright. Here's the thing. You know what a bad dog trainer I am. I fall asleep during the dog training DVD's. I may not always use approved methods. My biography does not start out, "Laura Hartwick was a top notch obedience competitor for 20 years." I think it starts out, "Laura Hartwick's favorite shoes since kindergarten are navy blue slip-on Vans." So I kind of screwed up on all my dogs on getting them to do everything for tugging.

They all like to play. Otterpop is primarily all about the frisbee, although she definitely enjoys her treats. Ruby will tug but what really gets her fired up is a chunk of chicken inside her little thing she tugs on. Gustavo, he will tug and go crazy before and after training, but what he really, really likes for the top dog reward are some chopped up hot dogs in a tupperware.


I know. Some day, I will be fired from dog agility. I am sorry Susan Garrett. This is why I'm not on any world teams and you are. I know you are not REALLY a witch, we just all have our things we are better at. I bet I draw horses way better than you do. And that's ok.


But see, his weave poles have gotten super way faster and more accurate since I started using dead chicken chunks in Ikeaware as a target out at the end of the poles.


I have the wires off, and the channels open about an inch and a half or so.

I can send him to the poles and he drives all the way through on his own, or with me on either side. So I'm already letting him find his own entries and rear crossing his poles. I can also just stand there and then when he's through, run down to meet him at the target. Let him snarf some dog chunks. Next step, doing this with poles at the practice field! If the thunderbolts of the Tugging Not Food Commandment don't strike me down first.

We are having an accessory crisis here.

What is the best thing to do if it's a Sunday and there is no dog show and your taxes need to get DONE like last Friday?

Go out to breakfast!

We went up to Davenport. It's a teensy town of population 200 about 10 minutes up the coast with 2 places to eat, and a beach that not a lot of people go to, usually just some drunk guys and marine biologist types, and where dogs aren't criminals.

We can't take Timmy anymore. Blind, demented, waves and high cliffs don't mix. We had to wait until he was asleep (easy) and sneak out of the house. Poor Timmy.


At low tide, there's even a cave. It was high tide at breakfast time. It's the time change. I have no idea what time it was. It actually may have been the afternoon. I forget what the difference is of new time and real time. I was hungry though.


The beach is a good place for dog games because the sticks are plentiful, and aka Seaweed. They are Otterpop's favorite size. The biggest size.


It is even like dog training to go to the beach. They are on a down stay so I can extract the stick from the jaws that are Otterpop and throw it again. No beach would be the biggest problem of Marfa.

I watch tv on Saturday night so you don't have to.

So I thought as part of Welcome to Marfa, we were going to watch James Dean's "Giant" last night. It was filmed in, of course, Marfa, Texas.

But someone already checked it out from the video store. We are so '90's. So I thought, I should improve my skills as a dog trainer and watch these dog training DVD's I borrowed from the Dog Club. Because that is what good dog trainers do on a Saturday night. So here you go. I watched them so you don't have to. OK, some of them. Ok, only a few minutes of them.

The first one is called Crate Games. It stars a witch named Susan Garrett. She hypnotizes dogs into winning the Grand Prix with her wiccan powers and Canadian accent. She wears little tennis skorts and bike shorts.


That's what she looks like in her pastel lime green turtleneck-a Rami color. I took a class from her in real life. She was unpleasant.


The video is about how to successfully lock your dog in the cage and teach it to think about going in and out. Bo-ring. It is sure to give you motivation and dogs that do not hear zombies, but I really wanted to be watching Giant tonight and dreaming of the Texas plains. My review? Maybe you would like this one if you had 3 margaritas.

So then we watched the next one.


Starring Swedish dog agility champion with a tan, Jenny Damm. She is fit and Swedish.


I watched the first few minutes thinking how much Sweden looks like Salinas California, and then freakishly, in the next scene, like a dog agility place in Hollister, California. I really couldn't concentrate on the dog training information. Besides the fact it was super boring, how could Sweden look just like where I personally go to dog agility events?

Because it was filmed there. It's a small world. I am sure she has much useful dog training information, but I have learned I am not a DVD of dog information watcher. Attention span of a flea. Sorry, my students of dog agility training. I am busted. This is not a winning attitude. Bad mental management! My review? Maybe you would like this one if you had 2 margaritas.


So then on tv, we watched Victoria Dominatrix Boots, Positive Reinforcement Trainer of Dogs in England. She drives a little Austin Powers car around and cures dogs of bad habits for people with tattoos. Tonight it was Chaos, the huge bull terrier.


That belonged to the nice punk rock mohawk family. Their dog humps things.


The vet said castrate him. Get him fixed, and that's a fix.


Victoria agreed. The mohawk family was good at getting tattoos, but bad at teaching their horny dog not to hump.


She also suggested, how about some dog exercise for him? Like go for a nice run in your doc martens?


It worked super. Dog trained and balls snipped. You can watch her show on Animal Planet and if you're bored, just have another margarita. Good thing the public tv station had a Clash rockumentary on for us old folks. I'm just going with the let's run really fast and I'll throw you a cookie method of dog training. Just wait til the Team Small dog DVD comes out. Lots of margaritas all around.

Another useful dog trick.

So if I have the 3 dogs with hearing all sitting together, and they are feeling sassy, (aka, I did not have time to get them on a good run and they are totally insane) if I start howling, then they will start howling. And they howl loud. It is like Songs of the Humpback Whales as performed by coyotes as performed by 3 small black dogs. This trick is useful for driving my husband out of the house. That's all we've found that we can use if for so far. I am not sure if it will help with fast agility dogs that always get their contacts and never hit bars.

Project Runway-Season 4 Finale, finally.

OK. So I get it. You only love me for my Project Runways. Everyone just went away. No one wants to know about dog game training and fitness and being responsible and doing taxes. But now it's the end of the season? Do you just go away and come back next year like winter people in RV's with your 4 wheelers dragging behind? It was nice knowing you? Don't you want to see how Gustavo's weave poles turn out someday? Yeah. You all go to Marfa and leave me here.

So there were some moments of pure joy the other night. 36 tall, skinny, pointy steppers walking up and down a long, white ramp in a giant tent. To a soundtrack that just matches the pointy stepping so nice! With these looks on their faces. Like this is something to aspire to. To have the Walk of the Fierce, down the ramp, stand for a moment with your weight sort of weirdly balanced with feet ahead and shoulders back, then turn and walk back. They have these tiny little faces and tiny little heads, and these long, stretchy limbs on which are just piled ruffles and feathers and weaving and sweaters and all kinds of stuff.

Christian. We knew you would win. No we didn't. Yes we did. No we didn't. Because we loved all of Jillian's clothes and she is Officially Elected the Extraordinary Designer of things for dog agility. Jackets and coats and sweaters and pants. Maybe not the tiny gold dress, because you have to have the thighs of Heidi that are nowhere near each other in the middle to wear that. But everything else.

But here was the ringer. The guest judge was Posh Spice! Who is a lady version of Christian except way richer and her head is bigger. She has such a weird, giant head and her haircuts make it look like it is maybe going to slide off to the side someday. So when Christian's outfits paraded across with giant ruffles EVERYWHERE, it was like, Posh Spice! Bend it like Posh! She is going to WANT something fierce those outfits. She will pack Christian up in her tote and take him home to England or LA or whichever mansion they are in this week, and he can be like the fashion nanny to her tiny tots and he is happy to live in a giant tote bag and she can cart him around to dress her in giant ruffles for her giant head and tight little pants for her tiny little thighs.

I thought it was weird Rami got second place. The hypnosis. That did it. I guess he got less points for being less drapey, and Nina pointed out so nicely that his colors are barfy. I forget what she said. Brady Bunch? I don't see that, but I do see barfy. He's never made many things that are of useful colors that are actually flattering to skin. So long Rami. I am happy I don't have to think about your turbany, slingy dresses anymore.

Jillian's stuff was so much cooler. But maybe she feels better knowing she is Extraordinary Designer of things for dog agility? Can someone tell her? Anyone have people in Long Island? She seems to be so worried all the time. Maybe this would cheer her up. I think we can build her a fan base. She is Sportswear, and we are Sporty! Like what if Sporty Spice had been a judge? Perhaps Jillian. I think no Spices would have selected Rami.

But I'll say this for Project Runway. This is a show where they actually do something super cool. The final fashion show made me happy on a day where everything else made me just want to spit and keep on driving. It reminds me so much of graduate school, except a happy graduate school where they actually learn a skill such as sewing and then they parade their things down their runway like a review. And I am just waking up now from the monster storm with no sparkly shoes and a dead witch draped over the headboard.

And Wayne Thiebaud is like Tim Gunn, and tells them they should just learn to be the best little darn horse painter that they can be. Even if they don't win.

And Nina is like that evil old witch of Critical Theory with the lips and the beads and who clawed her way to the top somehow by being vile and creepy and scaring everyone with words no one understands and you just wish didn't have so much power and leaves you with a scathing remark and a taste in your mouth like dirt mixed with rubber.

And Michael Kors, well, we learn from him it is useful to just wear the same thing every day and don't worry about it and no one cares if you wear your sunglasses inside.

And Heidi, she wasn't at my graduate school but I hate it now when she whispers something Germanic in Ruby's ear and makes her blow the contact and not get in the tunnel and turn away and run the other way and do some jumps out to the side, and a table, before running back in to the tunnel. Making me yell at no one in particular, "What the hell is wrong with my DOG???" Like on Wednesday night, just before Project Runway Season Finale. Coincidence? I think not.

Moving at the speed of fat burning.

Many of you, I mean actually, one of you, asked how the fitness challenge was going. Because apparently I made some kind of crack a while back about how skinny I was going to be for next time I run Hobbes. Which is at Madera. Which is in like a week and a half. I just looked at the calendar.

Oops. We forgot to exercise. I mean, we practice. We dog walk. Shuffle. So Timmy can go. I ride horses at work. But that is not the same as the glorious Fitness Challenge I had planned. Of exercising every day and melting those inches right off.

So we tried this morning.

For like 1 Elvis Costello song.

Luckily my spacious 800sf home, filled with 4 dogs, has ample exercise room in the sparkling clean Fitness Studio. Which can also be called spare bedroom or where the computer is due to unplastered office (see flood fiasco of rain), or currently the Tax Record Keeping System Room. Also room of where my shoes are that should not be chewed on by certain dog/puppies.


I tried some sit ups. You can see where this is going.


It involves stomach pouncing. For like 5 situps. Not sure if this counts as muscle building. Then I just gave up and I'll take 'em all for a shuffle. I mean they can run while I shuffle along with Timmy. I risk getting them a huge ticket because now I am a criminal for walking dogs on no leashes in the park. I shuffle for Timmy. We will burn at least several calories I hope shuffling. Maybe enough to destroy last night's Dirt Nite Cupcake Calories?

Maybe tomorow is the Project Runway update. You all know who won, right?

A fun and motivational game for nice dogs.

So when we practice, after practice comes the best game. Insane Frisbee for a Treat.


The rules are, Otterpop is the great and powerful ruler of all frisbees. Anyone who can get the frisbee who is not Otterpop will get treats.

Much barking and running and frisbee theft and slamming into other dogs is encouraged. I yell. It is a loud game. Nuns maybe would not allow this game at church.

This is not a good game for dogs who are not Team Small Dog to play with Team Small Dog. Dog feelings get hurt. We have tried. It just doesn't work the same. Big dogs, other small dogs, it just changes the dynamic. There is snarkiness and there could be border collies and SOMEONE just laying on top of the frisbee until border collies go elsewhere.

Everyone looks forward to Insane Frisbee. Mostly we play it after practicing when we practice by our lonesome because it is a game of yelling and barking and attacking things. And the whole feelings getting hurt issue. If you could see my dogs practice by themselves, anyone who has ever seen them be less than speedy, or downright slow, would be aghast. They are the fastest small dogs in town. They never miss a contact. Or a pole entry. They have mad distance skillz and are nuts. When goats are the only ones watching.

Practice with a couple other people, they're pretty fast.

Practice in class, they're ok fast.

Practice at a fun match, ok fast.

Go to the dog show? Maybe fast. Maybe slow. It depends on 47 different factors including weather, what articles of clothing judges are wearing that day, who else is in line with them to go in the ring and the train schedule.

We are hoping Gustavo breaks the cycle of madness that is our downfall in the dog show ring. Today we practiced doing actual little courses, running as damn fast as we could. Me and him. It was the first time really doing that. We have done so many little drills at slower speeds it was cool to see he knows a front cross and a rear cross and go ons and outs. Just like how it works on tv! So that's going to be how we all practice for a while, just bringing the speed back into things and some of the Insane Frisbee Madness onto the course. There was no Buck Owens today. I wish I had a boombox out there and it would have been classic rock day, if your classic rock is the Sex Pistols and Dead Kennedys.


View from the table cam.

Tax tips for the self employed.

If it's sunny out, and baby birds are being eaten by cats and the allergy trees are blooming, it must be tax time!

I finally called my accountant for my tax appointment. This has been on my list of things to do for a while but I couldn't bear to do. Like registering my unregistered and unsmogged truck. Oops. That's still on the list. My accountant does all the hard work of my taxes, but I do all the work of getting my records (Records may be stretch. Do we count post-its as Records? And scraps? And vague memories of things?) in order to bring it to her to turn it into a blue folder with a giant bill inside of how much extra money I have to send to the government in April and every few months after that. After I sent them money all year long so we can do stuff like, I dunno, keep having a war in Iraq and making me to put a leash on my dog in my neighborhood field. That was a cheap and grouchy shot. I am used to this. I am hardened. I have been self employed for a long time. (Tax tip-Make sure to actually send the money to them! Don't just pretend, like as in registering trucks. Send it ON TIME. Trust me on this one.)

I actually don't have any idea how my taxes even work, but I have the nicest accountant in the world who seems to have a handle on it. She is the super genius that doesn't mind that over the years I have had sometimes overlapping businesses of horse training, graphic designing and college teaching. And even dog agility training. She just turns it into the magical blue folder of money I have to pay and lets me write off many, but not all things, in my life. Dog vet bills-no. Horse vet bills-yes. Jeans-no. Boots-yes. She is a very, very smart lady. Sometimes she gives me kleenex before she hands me the blue folder for the crying that can ensue at tax time. (Tax tip-you can also bring your OWN kleenex if your accountant isn't as thoughtful as mine.) I think that this year isn't a crying year though. (Tax tip-Yes, always think POSITIVE!)


This is what my record keeping system looks like. Many colorful folders with some things in them. It is interesting to note that the one dog who tends to eat paper is the one laying in the record keeping system. (Record Keeping tip-buying bright colored folders does not filing make! Nor does spray painting file cabinets! You need to actually place things in them.) Plus a lot of other folders and boxes and envelopes and purses and pockets with receipts and then there's also the little notebook and the binder from the attorney. And some stuff in the computer. And don't forget the office flood of the roofing fiasco, which means there could actually be more items stored in the garage that need to be gotten and added and put onto the spreadsheet (Um, spreadsheet could actually be stretching it. Do post-its count as spreadsheet? And a list of numbers I type into a blank text file?) that all has to be ready for my super nice accountant very soon.

So the first important part of starting taxes is that it is time to practice weave poles some more!


With an open mouth, jazz hands, and a slower dog today. We practiced with the border collie puppies the other day. I have huge jealousy of their weave poles. I am pretty sure neither of the puppies' people used Buck Owens as their secret speed weapon. We will rethink our strategy. Likely, they already did their taxes too.

Then,while looking for some tax things by searching on the word "tax" in my computer, I found these instead. And I thought I should show you. Because what is more exciting than photos of other people's dogs? Maybe hearing about their digestion issues?


Ruby in the tunnel. Just shredding it up.


Otterpop in the tunnel. Knowing that the zombies will pounce as soon as she exits.

I also washed my floor! And did laundry! And dog toenails! But actually, no taxes.

In Marfa, you could just ride your horse forever.

Yesterday was a sunny Sunday with no dog shows or therapy dog trips to the nursing home or dog lessons. And no trips to Marfa, Texas. All would have been nice places to be. But here's a place you could go-to a dog agility birthday party! Especially to get your mind off of Marfa. Although, I will say just this. Yesterday JUST HAPPENS TO BE TEXAS INDEPENDANCE DAY. And Marfa also has unexplained ghostly lights ala X-files.


A dog agility friend had a party up at her house which is also a nature preserve in the mountains and also her dog agility yard of one giant, full size dog field and one slightly smaller one. Plus a meadow and woods and a creek. OK, wow!

So the dog agility was fun for about half of the guests, and birthday party entertainment ala puppet show or magician, for the other half. I am not sure how entertained they were. They may have wandered off at some point back to the house and we didn't even notice. But we sure had a good time running around some courses in her yard which is like a giant park. Also there was beer. And cake. And many dogs that were happy to do some practicing and run around in the meadow. And, how about this. An even ratio of border collies to small dogs. How often does that happen?


This party guest was very, very popular with all the dogs. I guess just small dogs. The border collies were busy working, not just surrounding people for food.


I believe this move is called the Peace, Man, Greg Derrett Threadle Hand. Dog Agility Tip-Because the dog is going to the tunnel. Not the dog walk. Greg Derrett hand says discriminate to the inside obstacle, not the outside one. Threadley!


In California, we can wear sandals to do agility!


They are waiting for 26" jumps to magically become 12". Even Gustavo got to do some little sequences. I had a glimpse of my trial future with him. Let's just say he will go out of his way to go into a tunnel. And was very fast but seemed to feel very comfortable being on the course and off the course. Like the forest and items surrounding the field were just more obstacles I was misdirecting him to. So a sequence for him was tire, tunnel, jump, forest, tunnel, jump, tunnel, tunnel, log, jump, straw bale, tunnel, forest. But it could all happen in the blink of an eye.

Also, a fashion tip. Here was a quandry. Party. Dog Agility. Party. There are few items of clothing that are non mutually exclusive to both things. But how about this. Good jeans with a dress over them and the dress is like a long t-shirt tunic? And non disgusting dog agility shoes and when you throw the dogs in the car so they do not attack the bbq you quick switch to clogs? Which are a sanctioned clothing item for parties in Santa Cruz County. Sorry Tim Gunn and Carson. But I am just working without a net here.

A Travelogue-Marfa, Texas.

Here is what I can tell you about Marfa.


It is in West Texas. Near the bottom of Texas, a nice drive across the desert down to Mexico. The population is 2400 and it is hard to get to. Hours from an airport. You drive across the desert to get there from anywhere. When movies want to say, Wide Open Spaces Type Desert Landscape, they sometimes use Marfa. Especially if the movie is starring Daniel Day Lewis or Sheriff Tommy Lee Jones because his giant ranch of cattle and polo ponies is there. Or near there. Do you remember the movie where Sheriff Ed Tom Jones has to drag the body of his friend across the desert into Mexico? Also Marfa.

Also, Tommy Lee Jones loves dogs, except we believe, through extensive research, that he loves catahoula dogs. And does not do dog agility. However, in an interesting twist, if you search on "dog agility" and "Tommy Lee Jones" on google together, guess what comes up? Team Small Dog. Not unlike Diablo Cody. Who I believe may not actually know Tommy Lee Jones, but who does have a dog.

Marfa also is an up and coming arts place. Which is odd yet thrilling. But if I am obsessed with it, then likely others are, others who are the types of people that actually up and move to their obsessed places and are happy living in the desert on their ranches. I up and moved to the desert once. I wanted to quit riding and go to graduate school. But I ended up dropping out of the MFA program and riding for a lady with her own little place and then moving back to California. But I did love the desert. I had these friends there, I can't remember their names. They were the friends of the guys in the Meat Puppets, who lived down the street from me. Somehow they ended up towing me out to the middle of nowhere all the time with them to spend all day walking around in the Superstition Mountains with them. Which was sometimes scarey because they also took a lot of drugs but somehow they never got us lost. They were nice. They all had really, really long hair. I still have scars in my leg from walking into cactus. I didn't have a dog then. That was a weird time, the Arizona time.

Um, hey all my famous artist friends. If you get invited to anything in Marfa, can I go as your date? Donald Judd bought the old Air Force Base and it is becoming an important center of contemporary art. In Marfa. Of course. It looks like you might have to drive far for dog agility trials if you live in Marfa. And make sure to scrape the cactus down good off your dirt where you are going to put your stuff. But it is temperate weather there and you will have lots of room! I already checked the real estate site. Everyone can probably afford to move to Marfa. I can definitely get a ranch there.

Not sure what Gary is going to think about all this. I have a feeling it will turn out like the time I thought we would move to Yucca Valley. Then it all burned up. It was very cheap there though and we could have beome retired people. We had a nice field trip for real estate viewing. We went to Pappy and Harriet's. Which actually Almost won Gary over. I wonder what the meth lab situation is in Marfa?

A useful thing for Buck Owens.

I know yesterday I was all whiney. I want to go on vacation. And my idea of vacations involves ghost towns and biscuits and deer heads. But I was thinking about it. Do I really want to go to Bakersfield? Bakersfield is no Panguitch or Tonopah or Rhyolite. Why did I say Bakersfield?

You all saw There Will Milkshakes, Right? I mean Blood. Wait. Oil? There will be Blood Oil?

It is the movie with a good typeface. And Daniel Day Pierced Ears won an Oscar. And it was based on true ideas yet fictional about the oil boom happening around Bakersfield around the turn of the century. They didn't actually film it there. They used Marfa, Texas. But I was thinking about Daniel Day Lewis's earrings. I mean pipeline. That would run through the mountains near Tehachapi and come dumping out around Santa Barbara. To make him some more money to go to Italy and become a shoemaker and pollute the ocean and win an Oscar! And Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, he is actually in Marfa, Texas on his polo pony ranch. Except he is really Sheriff Tommy Lee Jones and he had hair, not earrings, at the Oscars. But when he was Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, that was actually in Marfa. Everyone pretty much went to Marfa this year except me. Which is REALLY where I want to go.

So somehow this is how I got to Bakersfield. Which looks like Marfa. And Buck Owens. And the Buckaroos. And I am thinking, how do I keep making Gustavo be a super fast little Buckaroo? Because he loves to run and I have to remember training him that I have to keep agility doing what he loves. So I tried singing Buck Ownens songs to him in the weave poles. While we both ran really, really fast. As if we were running across the desert in Marfa. And he is almost beating me through now! Thanks Buck Owens, in your giant crystal palace in the sky! Sorry PG&E guy who I totally freaked out by doing this and you just wanted to come up the driveway and check the meter!