It isn't the Canadian way

I've pretty much decided that the only thing that's going to change anything around here is if I start stirring up some controversy. It isn't the Canadian way but I've enough American in me to embrace destroying that which I am tired of.

I keep hearing voices, telling me to do something drastic. Change the entire course of my life. And just when I feel the fiery embers beneath my skin (which may actually just be the blood recirculating after creating a pool in my feet from lack of movement) reach into full-blown flames of excitement, I remember I still haven't solved my problem of not knowing what to do about it.

Still I run at such a hectic pace on a all to regular basis that this moment, this moment of stillness is good. So it's can be a good thing to be docile. It can be a good thing to open your arms and welcome the boredom, the fear, or whatever it is that life brings to you on this fine Saturday evening.

I say fuck it, if the world no longer entertains me, I'll make no efforts to entertain the world.

Unless we get back to that whole controversy, destruction, chaos idea. I really like that one.

Big Girls Don't Cry

Not in this house anyhow. Being weak in my house leads to instability which is not something that's allowed when working with insecure/dominant aggressive dogs. If I'm weak, Mako will try to be the one in control and that is never a good thing. Let's face facts she can't control herself, thus having her attempt to control anything else, well that road leads to mucho badness. As such yes, I can come off as either an always happy freak or an ice princess who doesn't show any real emotion. The later being the belief of those whom are seeking a stronger reaction from me than I am able to give them at that moment. No, it isn't easy being my friend. My friends will always come second to the animals in my care. They are essentially furry children that never grow up, move out, get jobs or lives of their own. I will forever be responsible for them and their behaviours.

Many will never understand that.

So I will admit I react badly when I get messages from those claiming 'friendship' saying things like, "Mako will never be a good dog. You really should just put her down." Or the criticizing of Mako seen wearing a muzzle and/or leash even in the confines of our backyard with, "That dog must be nuts to have to wear a muzzle in her own back yard. She's so sad. That's no life for her, she be better off dead." And that is where I have to take a deep breath and remind myself, big girls don't cry. Not in this house. That's a luxury I cannot afford. So I cram the hurt down into that well that isn't permitted to ever see the light of day with so much force my bones ache and my stomach flop flops. I bite my tongue until it bleeds and I breathe.

Then I write. I pour it all onto paper. Sometimes my pen tears through the paper, sometimes its the only thing keeping me from punching someone in the throat. Sometimes it helps me remember I am human and have all those silly human emotions. Then I remember the golden rule. Be. In. Control. So I breathe again, I plaster a smile upon my face, schedule a 2 minute cry for my mourning shower while I wash my face pull my shit together and throw the paper away.

I look at my dogs. I smile and see that tail wag, most days. I whisper, "I love you good girl" and decide tomorrow is another day. If I cannot change the situation, I can control my reaction to it. I am their rock. How could I ever give up on them? They've never given up on me.

My feelings aren't what matters here. Their safety, and the safety of my daughter does. I cannot fail them.

Morning

Got to bed at 4:00am and was back up for 8:00am, so the trend holds true no matter the shift in paradox. :)  Dogs run, fed, and now entertaining me with feats of epic proportions. Emails answered, and issues averted. Looks like today is to be a tasking day at home so Florence, Jack, and Benson, and Kicking Horse are joining me for breakfast,  Chill it's noon somewhere in the world, it's all good.

Effective Communication

From the mailbag:

Shannon K asks:
What qualities do you think are found in a "best friend"?

For me it's a little more than the atypical "nice person" adjectives. Sure I'm a fan of honesty, but I am also a fan of compassion and kindness and the three are not always mutually exclusive. Being a good listener, but also having a strong voice and personal ideals, someone who inspires me to do my best, someone emotionally honest with themselves as they are with me. Someone who's passionate, and has a sense of humor.

              Someone like me, only better,


Derrek A asks:
"If money were no object and you could do, go or be anything you wanted, .... what would you do first and why?"

If money were no object. Oh what a world that would be. I'm rather practical when it comes to questions like this, however the first thing I would do would be to call my ex Jim. He and I would work out the logistics in having all of our kids and chosen family in one place for a weekend of laughter and reconnecting. After that all of our children would be in school that was completely paid for.

My next call would be to Tieg and as it happens to follow with that line of call Arash, Bronwen, Jose, Zana, Jim, Alison, Gill and Renata. Tieg and I have a mutual love of animals, dogs in particular. It would be our dream to have a massive piece of land that housed not only a sanctuary, but a rehabilitation center, and agility training course. Money being no object would also dictate that I could afford to ensure we all had the best training course around with Tieg as lead. The space would rival that of a local sanctuary, with log cabin house for each Tieg and I, along with housing for those workers that wished to live on site.

Tieg would of course have to have a wood working shop, and Arash would have a cabin for his creative advertising business that we would of course be his first of many clients. I would want those I trust deeply and know love dogs so Bronwen, Jose, and Renata would all be asked to be team leads in some capacity. Alison, Zana, Mattea and I would most likely be the ones I turn to for boots on the ground and going out on calls. Gill I would have as a holistic practitioner aiding in holistic care, and as our office lead as she has an attention to detail that really makes all the difference.

Jim I would ask to sign on as part of an outreach program for at risk youth as this is something within his brilliant skillset and work that into our program. Ideally I would like to see Jim and Renata team up together. Renata is a genius with both kids and dogs yes, but she like Gill has a gift for natural living. If I could have her extend the outreach program to a community garden type thing...Where we could be self sustaining in our primary foods with the ability to cultivate any and all excess with an outreach program to give back to our community.

 I'm a firm believer that if we can enforce the general care children and young adults have for animals and their fellow man, combining that with education and a desire to help something or some else we can effect great change within our world.

Effective communication is a complicated concept. Like Gandhi once said, "If the assface fits, wear it....Assface." -EL

Wal-Martians

It occurred to me long ago that there was a cosmic force in the universe, and that force, while it might not hate me, per se, it definitely never passes up a chance to screw with me. Because of this, as I live my life, I proactively try to minimize giving the cosmic force any extra chances to screw with me. One of the things I do to avoid tempting the Fates is pretty simple - I do not go to Wal-mart.

Yesterday, I went to Wal-mart.

I do 99.9% of my shopping at four locations: Online, the grocery store, liquor store and Extoggery/Vintage-thrift shops. Easy enough. But for whatever reason, I had to pick a few things up and went to Wal-mart. Things progressed smoothly enough. Other than one employee lady who I caught staring at me with the demeanor and intensity of an angry librarian who must have assumed I was trying to shoplift the Always Pads *with wings*, things were ok. I finished up and headed towards the check-out aisles. I saw most of them had multiple customers waiting in line except for lane #7. Lucky #7! It had just one family while every other lane was pretty crowded. I scooted over there to be next in line in good ole Lucky #7.

I got in line and noticed there was room on the counter for my few items. I put the tiny rubber Wall of China item separator down and put my stuff on the conveyor. It was only then that I looked at the family in front of me.

To begin with, directly in front of me was the wife with her back to me. She towered over me and was rugged and sturdy of both hip and shoulder. I am certain that both her mother and father were named "Sven Bjorgenssonsvenson" or something and were both almost certainly championship power-lifters. She was dressed like she was on her way to a log splitting competition and she had no intention of using an axe, preferring to just rip the logs in half with her bare hands to save time.

I looked at the husband. He was maybe 5'6" in his favorite work boots. He was wearing a khaki safari shirt that reminded me of the Crocodile Hunter, with faded jeans and a khaki hat. He was red-faced and agitated; his head on a constant swivel as if he was expecting to be attacked at any moment. He had an expression like a man who found himself in a state of road rage, but never managed to find his way out. He kept his arms bowed out like one of those guys who go to the gym once, never lift again, but walk around with their arms bowed out to make room for the beefy lats that they will never have.

There were three children. Two were standing there, a boy of maybe 8 or 9 and a girl that was maybe 12 years old, beside the cart with the silent stillness of hostages, daring to hope for freedom, but too terrified to run for the open door that lay only a few meters away. The third and last of the children was sitting in the cart, his empty, soulless gaze staring off at a rack in the distance. I have never seen a 2 year old suffering from depression before. There is a first time for everything.

I am going to assume the wife's name was "Girtha". Surely it could not be anything else. Girtha suddenly turned around and looked right at me. Fear clawed its icy fingers all over my gizzard; an organ I did not know I had. I took half a step back and weighed my options. I sized up the group - it was clear that in a fair fight I could easily take on the children. Even all three at the same time if need be. I figured I had a 50/50 shot at the road raging guy who raided the Crocodile Hunter's wardrobe. Against Girtha, though, there was little hope. If I played dead, I reasoned, I might get away with a slight maiming and some bite marks.

As suddenly as she whipped her massive frame around, she turned her back on me. I assume that she either decided I was no threat or perhaps I was not big enough to make a decent meal for her. At any rate, I took advantage of the situation and discretely reached over into the shopping cart of the lady in the next lane when she was not looking. I grabbed a plunger out of her cart and used my knife to start sharpening the tip of the handle, hiding it behind my cart. I wasn't going down without a fight, should Girtha change her mind.

Girtha and her husband started talking to the cash register. That event struck me as odd as that sentence does to you. I looked again and there was no one behind the counter, yet Girtha and her husband kept talking. I leaned over and saw nothing. I leaned even further. That is when I saw, what at first appeared to be a blue loofah behind the counter. I thought to myself "Why would someone leave a blue loofah on a stool?". The loofah moved and I realized it was not a blue loofah, but was actually a little old lady with blue hair. She was the cashier. All I was seeing initially was her paper-thin blue hair in a fresh perm.

Now, when I say little, I mean she MIGHT have been 4'0", even giving her credit for her hospital shoes and the rubber mat she was standing on. When I say she was old, I mean she looked to me like she might have easily been the Cryptkeeper's grandmother. If not his grandmother, than certainly her sister. I watched as she, with considerable effort, extended her withered limbs to slowly gather up each item and scan it. In her prime, she might have been as fast as a glacier, but glacial speeds were far beyond her ability now. Girtha and the hubby were growing impatient. The two older children began to cower and ease towards the door. The child in the cart looked up at me baefully began humming what I swear sounded like a Nine Inch Nails song. I kept sharpening my toilet plunger spear, preparing for the inevitable.

People started getting in line behind me. I decided after a moment or two, to turn to them and warn them that they had made a terrible life decision and should reconsider. Before I could, a Wal-mart employee wearing a headset came over and escorted the people behind me to other counters that would surely be faster. I thought that was a nice thing of headset to do, and I figured he would come back and get me once the others were taken care of. I would do my duty and stay here with my plunger spear to protect the innocent until headset came back for me. Me and headset were a team, working together to keep people safe and enduring all the risks ourselves! Nope...headset never came back for me. I felt like the guy in those Vietnam war movies that is left in the field while he watches the helicopter fly off without him. Fuck you, headset.

Up to that point, I had not been able to clearly hear Girtha and the hubby in their conversation with the Cryptkeeper's grandmother. However at that instant, Girtha spoke a sentence that I heard very clearly. It felt like the sky opened up and a genuine Acme Co. anvil fell from the sky and landed on my big toe. She said "I have a $5 Wal-mart gift card, some coupons, a $35 pre-paid cash card and I want to put the rest on my debit card." What?!? Bernie Madoff's whole team of accountants would not be able to figure out how to execute that friggin' transaction, let alone the poor creature behind the counter! I nearly vomited in rage.

I will give the Cryptkeeper's grandmother credit - she never flinched. She had the steely resolve of a woman who knew the Grim Reaper was afraid of her, and it occurred to me that it was entirely possible that in her past she might have even been Genghis Khan's Drill Sergeant or something, before she changed careers to work at Wal-mart. She slowly (as if there was any other option) began to walk them through the laborious process of trying to pay for their items using the bewilderingly complex method they were insisting on. It was at that time that the debit card reader broke.

Regardless of what you might think, that did not cause me to completely flip my shit. No. I thought it might be a blessing....after all, if the machine does not work, they cannot use their ultra complex method; right? Wrong. Turns out the reason the Cryptkeeper's grandmother is still walking the Earth is because she really is one determined and tenacious fucker. If she had been born a dinosaur, she would have been a velociraptor. The world's slowest velociraptor, sure - and with blue hair. But a velociraptor nonetheless. Anyway, she relentlessly yet calmly tapped out some kind of lengthy and elaborate code that got the systems back up and running in merely a few dozen minutes. Yay. We're saved.

Girtha and hubby paid, eventually, for their $263.47 worth of items (yes; that is the real number....I heard Girtha say it several times as she kept cursing the machine). I'm not going to bother going into what happened in the parking lot because this has been long enough. I only want to share this axiom:

Jade's Law of Geo-spatial Avoidance: If a collective in a specific location is exhibiting signs of avoiding a specific space (such as a particular lane in Wal-mart), make sure that you avoid it as well. Collective cautionary wisdom trumps individual attempts at advancement every time.

And this is why we are using dollar store pads.

I'm a ninja

"I'm a ninja", said the voice. I was sitting on the homemade bench under a 12' by 12' canopy in the sweltering heat. Team building exercises meant to be fun and help new comers learn tips and tricks from us seasoned teammates. There were three training stations going in the field; one for team member hoist and carry, one for doing a tandem dog wash, and lastly, a thunder jacket / harness simulation. There were 12 or more trainees milling about, and with only 3 spots to train on, it meant the remaining personnel were huddled around and in the meager shade offered by the canopy. 

"I've trained with nun-chucks, swords, bo staffs and the 3 piece staff", the voice continued. I had been staring at the ground, the cracks in the asphalt reminding oddly of the surface of Mars. The surface of Mars this wasn't, as Mars is very, very cold and it was, in fact, hotter than 40 rats fucking in a wool sock where I was. It suddenly and with much apprehension occurred to me that no one had acknowledged the voice and that did not bode well. It meant that it was entirely possible that when and if I looked up, I would see that the body to which the non-disembodied voice might belong might well be looking at me. I sighed, resigned myself to my fate, and looked up. 

I saw standing directly between me and the sun, a silhouette of a slender male figure. I squinted and looked at him closer and saw what can only be described as an Eminem clone, except dressed very poorly and shabbily. He also had dark brown hair. Ok, he didn't really look that much like Eminem after all, but his appearance made me think of Eminem, so I don't know. I noted that his shoes said "Etnies" on them, which I deduced must be a Latin term meaning "guy who is going to annoy you." The most remarkable thing about his appearance was the small, nerdy spectacles on his nose accompanied by the sunglasses on top of his head. That is an awful lot of eye wear for a head bearing only two eyes. 

I looked at him but did not respond because I had created the hope in my mind that he still might not actually be talking to me but actually might be talking to the voices in his head. Please god, let him be psychotic and delusional, I silently prayed. 

"You mean like the ninja turtles?" said a new voice, off to my right. I thanked the gods that someone nearby had heard his proclamations and simply could not resist inquiring. The new voice belonged to a light skinned black male wearing a white t-shirt that said something about music. Sensing interest being generated in his immediate vicinity, the owner of voice #1 whipped around and faced the owner of voice #2. 

"Yeah, kinda, but that ninja turtle stuff is bullshit. They have no clue how bad you can hurt yourself with that stuff" said the kinda-Eminem stunt double with an indignant air of authority. I could hear his sense of superiority growing. "Yeah, no kidding!" said voice #2. 

"I mean, you know, you need to be highly trained for that stuff. That is why I did it. It ain't no joke!" said voice #1 with clearly growing vim and vigor (yes, both). Voice #2 quickly and enthusiastically agreed that the ninja turtles probably did not treat the weaponry with the respect it clearly deserved. Those damned ninja turtles were a joke, they suspected. I imagine that they both secretly doubted the ninja turtles were even legitimate ninjas at all. 

I turned my head and looked back at the ground and suddenly wished I was on Mars, deathly cold or not. I thought long and hard about trying to explain to the two men that there was a considerable amount of evidence that would suggest that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were not actually real, and therefore what weapons they used, how they used them and whether or not they were proficient or serious enough about them may not really matter. It was not the first nor last time that I felt a deep sense of regret that I ever gave up drinking heavily. With any luck I'll have a massive seizure and be hauled bodily away from this train wreck of a conversation. 

I can only assume that both men will garner much knowledge and accolades from this training session with flying colors. Once the team leads and HR find out that they have genuine ninjas and ninja enthusiasts in their midst, what choice do they really have? I just can't help but wonder if he included "ninja training" on his resume. Sometimes I really wished I worked in Human Resources. 

I hope your day was better than mine.

Happy Canada Day, and something else witty

I cannot help but roll my eyes each time those whom think they know me ask, "You gonna get your party on for Canada day?" Really? Do these people not know me at all?  Of course being the smartass that I am cannot help but answer, "Of course! Gonna drink till I'm stumbling and then I'm gonna run the dogs...amidst large crowds of people!" I get it, people have little in common with what I do and are simply seeking out some common ground to relate to me on. Of course their missing the mark so badly it's laughable, but I do get it.

For those who do not know me, or are new to my ramblings. I live and work with highly human and animal aggressive dogs. The abuse they've suffered is horrific at best. My being off my A Game, being lax in any manner could mean actual serious harm, if not death to other's or my dogs. So no, I do not ever do drugs. I enjoy alcohol for the actual taste and not to get drunk. I also have absence seizures so copious amounts of alcohol is a bad thing. I have to plan everything out and ensure all safeguards are in place to enjoy myself in any adult fashion.

To put it in perspective for you: It's like having crawling triplets with colic, in a room full of sharp objects.

Always an adventure.

Piesano messaged. I'm ignoring it for now. He'll want to get all up close and personal. I'm not feeling it, well not with him.  Maybe coffee tonight when I know Teaesme will be here to watch the hellhound's, but that's it. I miss A. He's never failed to make me smile. One day we'll find out forever.  It's a holiday for everyone, so there will be even more people out and about. Walks will have to be at way off hours, like 2 and 3am. Backyard time will also have to be worked around the yappy mutts on either side of us. Mako already tried eating Buster yesterday. All that white fluffy goodness just whets her appetite. (grumble)  I can work with him out there if he'd just shut the fuck up. He nonstop barks and that just sets her off. In this heat, I hate having her hit that zone and then fight to breathe properly in her muzzle once she's caused herself another epistaxis episode and blown her eyes again. She's never going to like that dog. I'm pretty sure by her reaction to him he's probably close in appearance to one of the dogs she was baited with. How I'd love to get my hands on the fucker that caused all this shit with her.

And people are surprised I'm still single. Yeah what a shocker!

Well I was right. It's after 1 am and I'm still up...Since yesterday morning at 3am.  So help me, if anyone texts in the next few hours I will remove them from my life for good.  Once I have a bit more sleep, I may be awake enough to actually get angry in which case I'm removing them from the planet.