On the McKenzie River with Zeke

First, apologies to all for taking an extended unannounced break from Pocket Full of Stones. Life happened.

You may have noticed that I've been quite busy launching and building That's So Northwest - Northwest Community CU's blog and Social Media extravaganza. If you haven't popped in over there, it's worth the click. Lots of fun, variety and a heck of a great group of people speaking their peace if I do say so myself. 

Now for what I really want to talk about. One of my all time favorite topics - the sweetest, smartest of dogs, Zeke. He is NOT spoiled.
This past weekend, we took a short jaunt to the McKenzie River with Zeke, and our new video enabled iPhones (say YES! to on phone video editing). Now I get to regale you all with pics AND video. Woot! 


Zeke loves the water. Without doubt, that is an under statement. In the dead of winter, he will beg us to break through the inches thick ice in his kiddie pool so that he can submerge himself in it's frigid bliss. In the snow and pouring rain he will lay in the river with just the holes of his nose and his eye's visible for so long that many people ask us if he is ok and stare at us as if we are somehow abusing him. We aren't - I promise.

 
For hours on end, Zeke will happily swim after his tennis ball in most any body of water ever eager to meet nearly any challenge to retrieve his ball and do it all over again. I've witnessed that dog create his personal version of Groundhog's Day over and over again in utter ball-retrieving-glee. Zeke learned to swim in the McKenzie River. In fact the video below is shot at the very spot on the river where he journeyed his first rapid and I thought I would have a heart attack. He was totally fine. It took me a little long, but I too made it through. He is a good judge of water. If he is uncomfortable with the water, he flat won't get in, even if we do. What's that say about us? If the current is too swift, Zeke wisely whimpers from shore as he donates yet another tennis ball to the river.  

Now on with the show. Here is Zeke, fishing for river rock on the McKenzie River.

And a little footage of the tennis ball action, just because I talked about it so darn much.
We are working on our video technique. That's all I have to say about that.

All photo's and video in this post are courtesy of my darling N. and his iPhone. He has been waiting for me to post this since this past Sunday. Check. Finally!

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Heritage Gorgeous

That gorgeous Peony brings my heart delight!
For several years now, it has lived in it's pot, carefully tended by me and my nostalgia. Never blooming, but I've remained ever hopeful. You see, that peony is from the ranch my Grandparents lived on for over 50 years. The place were my Dad grew up and I learned how to ride horseback. The endless miles of field and hours on end spent with Grandpa saying little more than a few words the whole time, but building volumes of understanding of and with each other. My first memories of an impressive, massive garden that you could actually eat out of were formed there. I adore the Ranch House (even though it is but a memory and another lucky family lives there now) to this day with it's basement filled with Grandma's canned goods and the ping pong table Dad made in his youth, and spiders or course. I learned the wonders of a barn, bales of hay and secret forts on that ranch. Days of library books checked out in droves for summer reading and Cinnamon Rolls baked by Grandma. For me, there was a sense of wonder and earthy freedom that came with that Ranch and my summer visits. Someday having a similar ranch is my dream. This year, finally, that lovely, gorgeous peony decided it was time to bloom. And with it, as always, bloom or no, comes a flood of precious childhood memories.

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All I can say is he's a charmer, a Snake Charmer.

If you are new to Malachi's story, you can read more here and here. Today, the pictures are worth a million words.

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Reflections on Gratitude, Perspective and Living in the Moment.

Since hearing the NPR story about the crossing of Martha Mason, I've been doing some serious thinking about gratitude, perspective and how to better live in my moment.


Martha crossed on May 4, 2009 a month before her 72nd birthday. She spent nearly 61 years of her life in an iron lung, the result of contracting polio at the age of 11. She told her doctors that she would do more than live her life with polio and the Iron Lung, she would live above it. She graduated from High School and College with High Honors. 

In 1994, voice-recognition software allowed Martha to write her autobiography and have a small measure of privacy despite being paralyzed from the neck down,  living full time in an iron lung dependent on the care received from others. Her memoirs, "Breath: Life in the Rhythm of an Iron Lung", was published in 2003 and was the focus of a documentary film in 2005.


On occasion, I slip into the very human and not so pretty habit of judging and comparing my life to others. Hearing Martha's story sent me to that less than lovely place first. "Thank Goodness I don't have to live life in an Iron Lung".

Martha's story is strong enough to survive that humaness. Her story is a clarion call - reminding me that it is what I make of life that matters, not the perceived hardships that come along the way. There is no need for comparisons, we all get the chance to experience the blessing of accepting and overcoming challenge. They look different on each person, but they are there, those opportunities, those lessons, those perceptions. It seems Martha made her Iron Lung a blessing, welcoming it into her life. I image, because it gave her life. As she says in the clip, "I never really give it a lot of thought." hmm Perspective. Acceptance and moving forward to embrace life. Wow. Thank you Martha!

Gratitude is a dynamic process. Giving and taking. Something our tradition spends a lot of time, teaching and energy on. Each ceremony includes a giveaway - the act of expressing gratitude. We are regularly reminded about all there is to be grateful for, and are given many opportunities to express ourselves in gratitude. Giving and taking. While I am often grateful, I am also forever a student of Gratitude. Of how to live more in the moment of giving and taking with a grateful heart. I like that it takes practice.

Thank you Martha, for reminding me to be grateful for my life - just as it is - and to see the blessing in anything that comes my way. Thank you for holding the mirror up for me to take a good look. I am grateful to have touched paths with you, through a radio new progam, the internet and your story. What a beautiful life.One person can make a difference and often never realizes the impact they have had on others. Breathe!

Have a day filled with gratitude, beauty and perspective everyone!
~Thea

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Snake Season Has Officially Begun

We go through the same thing every year. This sweet, fluffy, handsome creature....

Somehow manages to charm these into our house to keep him company. By somehow, I mean we have no idea how he does it. By charm, I mean he has a way with slimy, slithery things like slugs, snakes and earthworms.

Wherein I am forced to deal with them. Which means I take them away from Malachi (and return them to the great outdoors where they belong) which makes sweet, goofy Malachi something of a FROWNachi.

p.s. I think this snake will actually live to resist the charming call of Mr. M another day. You would think by now the snakes in the neighborhood would tell their young the story of the floofy creature with a charming and irresistible call that leads to snake certain death only after a long period of nauseating tossing-about-in-the-air and being pounced-upon. Certainly Malachi is a thing of myth and legend in this snake neighborhood!

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A bit on Malachi, our Goofy, Giant Buddha.

From the floor, Malachi can stand up on his hind legs and tap me on the shoulder with his paw as I sit at the computer. It's slightly disconcerting when he does that from behind while I am focused on my work. He can also stand on his hind legs and reach up on the kitchen counter to fish around for food or whatever he is after, which is most often unseen to the human eye.

From tip of his nose to tip of his tail he measures 3 feet that's not even stretching him out. His normal standing height depending on where you measure is 14 inches. He was so big when we got him that N. thought he had been neutered already. Turned out - they hadn't yet dropped. However, they quickly appeared after being exposed to our Alpha Cat Cecil for a few days.

Malachi is the most recent addition (2005) to the cast of cats in our family having appeared first at my parents house. After watching him traipse about looking pitiful and hungry for sometime, my parents had a conversation the details of which are still a little fuzzy to me that resulted in a call:

Dad: It's floofy, black and white and you are going to love it.
Mom: Your father and I talked and think he really is a better fit for your family than for ours.
Thea: Well, ummm ok bring him down and we will see.
Mom: He's already in the van and I am on my way.

Seems Mr. Taking Care of Business - Malachi had jumped into my Mom's van the night before and was just waiting to be carted away to my house.

Of late, we often find him sitting like this - just pondering. Or at least I call it pondering 'cause ... well I am not really ready to consider what it might be otherwise. So, Malachi ponders. He stays like that for a long time... apparently, he has a lot to consider.

His favorite treats are: freeze dried salmon chunks, sweet things, bread and paper (we don't feed him the paper, he dives into that all on his own). Though, he is always the last cat to show up for a treat. We are not sure if he is so occupied in otherworldly events that he just doesn't realize the mundane reality of treat time - or if something is actually wrong with his sniffer. We are not prepared to consider other options.

Oddly, for his size, he makes lots of small, squeaky, high pitched noises and at the strangest times. Like, the middle of the night when you are fast asleep. He appears on your chest with a squeak and then licks your nose, or eyelid, or finger. Once you are awake and paying attention, he disappears. His appearance anywhere is actually quite a production. It's as if he is suddenly there, presenting himself for you to adore him. He stands tall and swooshes his tail and then squeaks, accepts a pat or two and then disappears. Malachi wants to be cuddly - he just hasn't quite figured out how that works yet.

Malachi has a penchant for slimy, slithery things like snakes, slugs and earthworms. He likes them. They are his companions. He calls out to them and they come to him. Early on in Malachi's life with us, we let the cats outside during the day. When Malachi came in at night, N. and I would have to perform a full fluff body search to find and remove his companions. Malachi would collect and then pack around baby earthworms, slugs, and baby slugs in his copious fur. Then he would bring them inside with him for a sleep-over. If he was lucky enough to find a snake while the door was open, he would bring that inside too. We figured that all that would stop when we quit letting the cats out. But OH NO, Malachi loves his buddies and now that he can't get to them, he calls charms? them to him. Yep, not sure how he does it, but he still manages to bring me snakes and slugs all while not leaving the house.

He likes to lay upside down - with relish. When not upside down, he prefers to have his head propped up - on a pillow or against a piece of furniture. He loves to have his belly rubbed. And he likes to be hacksawed. N. recently discovered this little fact. Malachi used to like being brushed late at night while sitting on top of the washing machine. Apparently, one late night I was sleeping the brush was no where to be found, but the hacksaw was handy. Malachi will follow N. around the house when he has the hacksaw in his hand, floofing and swooshing eager to be hacksawed.

Turns out, my parents were right - Malachi is a good fit. And I am making good use of his fur.

Portions of this post were originally published on a private blog May 6, 2008 it is re-posted here with permission... 'cause I wrote it and can approve those kinds of things. Photos taken by Moi as well and used here with permission (see previous statement). All Rights Reserved. As if you would have any use for photos of a hacksawed cat.

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The Day I Barked in Public (or My Life Keeps Me Humble).

To tell this story, I need to set the stage a bit. N. and I exercise at a local gym. We recently decided that we wanted to learn how to swim... I could swim to save my life, but I could not swim a 'proper' stroke. And I certainly could not do the whole submerge your face in the water and breathe under your arm thing. In fact, learning to swim is on my 38 list -

38 things to do before I turn 39.

I am doing pretty good. I no longer leave the pool having consumed a large quantity of water. I can swim for a decent length of time without stopping (always room for improvement) and, if really in the groove, I can make it the length of the pool breathing just once (It's not a regulation sized pool). N. and I are recognized as a couple and as 'lap swimmers' at the gym.

The other night, I had finished my laps and had moved to the side of the pool reserved for everything else to do some water jogging. N. had come down from the weight room and was beginning to do his laps. We greeted each other and then we were off doing our own thing. The 'non- lap swim' side of the pool was filled with a variety of folks, doing a variety of water activities. I was in the water jogging zone. My eyes may have even glossed over. I was not really paying much (any) attention to the world around me. Next thing I knew N. popped up right in front of me. He had been lap swimming and then.... from the depths of the water, there he was right in front of me! He came out of nowhere.

I squeaked. Screamed. No, in all truth is was a Bark. A. Single. Loud. Bark. The kind of high-pitched bark a small yappy dog would make. Except that it came out supported by my strong and very human sized lungs.

There was no escaping it. Everyone heard it. The bark echoed off of the pool room walls for a long time. All of the women gabbing together in a circle in the water near me startled saying, "you scared me!" and "oh my god!" and "what was that?"

That was me. Barking. And then laughing. I couldn't stop laughing because I couldn't get the bark that had just emitted from my body and was bouncing off of the walls out of my ears. It was shocking. Startling. Appalling. Who makes such a noise in public? How could that noise be effective in the slightest if there really were a threat to my life or limb? How could such a sound be coaxed out of me, a strong and confident woman? So I laughed some more.

There was N. with a whole bunch of startled women in his midst. All looking at him as the cause of the bark. What could he do but laugh in his calm and good natured way? He was startled too.

The women carried on for several minutes amongst themselves retelling the tragic tale and giggling.

I see those people I barked at nearly every day. They smile at me. I smile back and hear the echo in my mind. It's a lesson in paying attention to the moment I suppose. And trying to keep my bark in check. And making sure N. doesn't sneak up on me in public. And humility. It's probably even fair to say that my bark is far worse than my bite....

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Welcome to a Pocket Full of Stones

It started when I was just a wee one. My fascination with rocks that is. At the time, all I could say was just that I liked them. There were always rocks in my pockets. And when they filled up, I would stash my collection around the house, in piles. My mom tells stories about finding my treasures under tables and behind chairs. Bless her poor vacuum cleaner. When I was about 10, we took a family vacation and drove across country stopping at each and every state boarder so that I could scramble out of the car and select a rock from beside the road. My parents understood my love.

Through out my life, I have cherished, collected, loved and admired rocks. Heck, I even married a guy because he was willing to fill his pockets with my rock finds when mine were full. Well, that's not the only reason I married him.

Today rocks grace the corners of my home. Their variety, color, texture, even their smell captivates me. I carry them around, often in my purse or a pocket. And I wear them on my body. For me, rocks and jewelry made of rock is like medicine. Soothing, enriching to my soul. Rocks are the wisdom of the earth in beautiful packages. Keepers of the stories of all beings. In my tradition, we think of rocks as Grandfathers.

Pocket Full of Stones is a collection of my life stories for now and the generations to come. So welcome. I hope you'll visit often and add your voice to the comments section.

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