Music Monday: New Month, New Music

 It's May, y'all, and that can only mean one thing... THE EUROVISION SONG CONTEST. To get in the proper mood, I watched the Eurovision Movie: the Story of Fire Saga and fell in love all over again. But the best part of my Europrep has come in the form of the soundtrack from that movie which includes this gloriousness: the Song Along. I was slapping the back of the sofa and shouting at the dogs, "Do you see that?? That was Loreena! LOOK IT'S JESSY MATADOR IS THAT JAMALA WITH THE LYRIC ABOUT WINNING THE WAR?" 

As you may have guessed, the dogs didn't answer nor care. But I do. Quick history: when I moved to the UK in 2009 I took my three greyhounds and my cat. One of my dogs died shortly after I got there, of osteosarcoma. The second one, her bonded pal and soulmate, left me, Daisy (greyhound number three) and the cat to mourn and cause my husband to wonder what he'd gotten into with his new American wife. He finally suggested that I should watch Eurovision because he thought it would cheer me up.

He was right. Eurovision is happy memories of doing a TIGHT 8 TO 10 on the train platform in Leeds. It is dancing with my workmates in the bookshop. It is searching for the BBC1 feed on the tiny telly in our hotel in Maison Lafitte on our belated honeymoon. I have missed watching it live since we've been back in the US and I'm again on the trail of a way to watch BBC1 with Graham Norton's commentary on the 22nd.

For now, enjoy the Song Along from the Eurovision Movie. It's everything that is fun and mad and glam about Eurovision, and it makes me smile (and get up and dance, but don't tell anyone).

Song Along Lyrics, including the performers in each section.

[Song 1: Cher – "Believe"]

[John Lundvik, Anna Obodescu, Both]

No matter how hard I try

You keep pushing me aside

And I can't break through

There's no talking to you

[Bilal Hassani]

It's so sad that you're leaving

It takes time to believe it

[Bilal Hassani & John Lundvik]

But after all is said and done

[Bilal Hassani, John Lundvik & Anna Odobescu]

You're gonna be the lonely one, oh

[Loreen & Jessy Matador]

Do you believe in life after love? (Sing with me, yeah)

I can feel something inside me say

I really don't think you're strong enough, no

[Song 2: Madonna – "Ray Of Light"]

[Loreen]

And I feel (And I feel) like I just got home

And I feel

[Loreen, Jessy Matador & Anna Odobescu]

Don't think you're strong enough, no

[Petra Nielsen, Anna Odobescu, Loreen & Jessy Matador]

And I feel (And I feel) like I just got home

[Petra Nielsen, Anna Odobescu, Loreen, Jessy Matador, Will Ferrell & John Lundvik]

And I feel

Quicker than a ray of light

Quicker than a ray of light

I really don't think you're strong enough, no

[Song 3: ABBA – "Waterloo"]

[Jamala]

Waterloo, I was defeated, you won the war

[Erik Mjönes]

My, my - at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender

[Molly Sandén]

Oh, yeah - and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way

[Erik Mjönes & Molly Sandén]

The history book on the shelf

Is always repeating itself, woah

[Anna Odobescu, Loreen, Molly Sandén, Petra Nielsen, Jamala & Jessy Matador, Will Ferrell]

Waterloo, I was defeated and you won the war (You won the war)

Waterloo, promise to love you forevermore

[Song 4: Céline Dion – "Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi"]

[Elina Nechayeva & Conchita Wurst]

Ne partez pas sans moi

La joie d'être libre

Vous qui cherchez une autre vie

Vous qui volez vers l'an deux mille

Ne partez pas sans moi

[Song 5: Black Eyed Peas – "I Gotta Feeling"]

[Netta, Will Ferrell, Molly Sandén, Erik Mjönes]

Tonight's gonna be a good night

That tonight's gonna be a good night

That tonight's gonna be a good night

A feelin' (Fill up my cup, mazel tov)

(Do you believe in life after love)

That tonight's gonna be a good night (Look at her dancing)

(Quicker than a ray of light)

(Just take it off)

[Netta, Loreen, Molly Sandén, Erik Mjönes]

That tonight's gonna be a good night (I can feel something inside me say)

That tonight's gonna be a good night (I really don't think you're strong enough, no)

A feelin' (Quicker than a ray of light)

That tonight's gonna be a good, good night (Do you believe in life after love?)

[Will Ferrell, All]

A good, good night

Notes from Exile: Whistle and Hum

Daisy Mei Mei and me in Wales, August 2011

Y'all, I think I have officially lost my mind. I will give regular Lettuce readers a moment to STOP LAUGHING.

I've been working hard on getting paperback copies of Daisy's book, Proud Racer: An American Greyhound in Yorkshire ready for the virtual signing event for Beach Bound Hounds that starts this Friday. It was originally published by Lulu, but I wanted to move it over with the rest of my work on Amazon and I waited FAR TOO LONG to do that. So I have been scrambling. 

Along with that scrambling has been a whole lot of reminiscing and remembering and for the most part it has been a good thing. I've thought about how her eyes would just about fall out of her head each night when she had her vanilla ensure and Life cereal combo that we used to keep weight on her near the end - and been able to laugh at the eyes rather than fixate on it being "near the end." I'm almost ready, three and a half years later, to put the red duvet cover back on the bed. It has a permanent place in the stitched pattern where she used to sleep, because she was like a marlin on a hook and could never get comfortable right away. I have no idea how many stitches she pulled out to get it JUST RIGHT.

But today, either I have manifested my need to have her in my life again just a hair too much or I've officially gone round the bend from too much isolation in the time of COVID. Today, as I was sitting here at my desk working, I heard the girls winding up to sing. Not an unusual occurance - for Ciaragh it LITERALLY takes me tapping my foot on the floor or a beep sounding on one of my devices, and the Canine Tabernacle Choir is OFF TO THE RACES.

Ciaragh started with some whining that Bryn soon matched in pitch and the BARK/WOOO verse that the wolfhounds sing became part of the tune. Willow-Pickle has her own verse to sing, the melody, if you will, over the percussive sounds of Ciaragh and Bryn. Hers starts with a GRRRRRRRR and then builds into the most soulful and musical ROOOOOOOO. All of that was happening.

And then, I swear - on my life and those of my dogs and my husband and whatever else you need - I heard a very distinct fourth voice join in the chorus. It wasn't a bark or a roo or a growl, it was a hum (those of you with sighthounds may recognize the noise I'm talking about, it usually precedes the roo/howl). It continued and then stopped, replaced by some high pitched whistles just before the others fell silent. I should have recorded it, but all I could do was sit with my hands on my face, Home Alone style, as my jaw dropped. Tears filled the edges of my eyes.

I have had seven greyhounds in my life since 2000, and all but two of them would throw their heads back and roo with angelic grace and ear splitting pitch. (Well, 2.5 - Hunky couldn't so much ROO as he could WOO but it was still a similar sound.) Lizzard would sort of make a sound like Bea Arthur yelling at you after smoking a pack of cigarettes. More WAAA than ROO, and very scratchy. She barked (every day at 4:30 ON THE DOT because that was dinner time) more than she sang. 

Daisy didn't sing. She would hum alongside the others, seemingly unsure of her own voice and slightly unnerved if she was in a large pack of hounds that were all singing. If she got too nervous (or annoyed, as we discovered when Willow-Pickle joined our pack), she would make this loud whistling noise through her nose. It was very high pitched and in a staccato rhythm for the most part, though some of those long, sustained whistles linger in my memory - and probably my eardrums.

I heard my Daisy "sing" with the other girls today and it made my heart happy. It may have been my imagination, but it was real enough. Thanks, Mei Mei. Give the other 6 head butts and licks for Mommy, okay?

 

Once again, into the breach...err, semester...

Trying the blog thing again are you? Pardon me if I don't stay
awake until you leave it hanging...again... -Willow-Pickle

Here we find ourselves again, dear friends, my handful or so of Lettuce readers, my Lettuce Heads... Oh, I like that, I think I'm keeping it. You are my Lettuce Heads. Yes.

Sorry, moving on...

Here we are again at the beginning of another semester at Clemson. It is fall, so there is the influx of TOO MANY FRESHMEN that makes class scheduling a nightmare at best and my spreadsheet for captioning a never ending work in process.

Welcome to life in Student Accessibility Services, I suppose.

Those lights in tunnels that I spoke about back in May are still burning. GARF was an amazing experience for this seasoned rennie performer that brought loads of new friends and happy memories and bits to try at other faires. The lack of coffee meetings (and overall lack of Daisy) was hard to manage but we moved onward and upward. I'm now on the cusp of the Enchanted Chalice and CRF, and while I am looking forward to again being in my element I'm finding it difficult to bring up the same amount of joy and anticipation that I am already feeling when I think of next year at GARF. I suppose everyone has their niche, and mine is Newcastle.

That makes me laugh everytime I say it, since my parents-in-law live in a village near Newcastle. The real Newcastle. The one filled with Geordies that doesn't pull a Brigadoon in the mist every summer in June.

Nothing new to report, really, other than general personal growth over the summer. Coffee meetings with Daisy morphed into snuggly telly time with Willow (and Bryn, when she isn't being ENTIRELY TOO GROWN UP TO MANAGE A SNUGGLE ANYMORE). Work was steady over the summer, so I was out of the house a lot. I missed dance and poi, but that will start back in a few weeks now that I have a steady paycheck. 

Steady. That's the word for the summer. 

Coming up though? Watch this space, there's news on the Nature Walker front. That's all I can say at the moment, but I'm about to burst here. WATCH.THIS.SPACE

Lights at the Ends of Various Tunnels

Me and my girl at GARF,
photo courtesy of the Southern Travel Guide

Yeah, the last post was pretty grim, and if I'm honest, the work situation (that I still can't talk about) hasn't gotten any better, but there have been bright spots and that's what we are going to focus on in THIS post.

One of them is featured in the photo: The Georgia Renaissance Festival. Now, this is not a new thing, not by a longshot, but apparently, the fourteenth year is the charm, hoopskirt issue notwithstanding. I have made friends at GARF in the past, cast members and vendors and directors and the like, but this year just feels different. I feel at home in "Newcastle" in a way I have yet to feel at home in "Fairhaven" after fifteen years in what we refer to as the Northern Kingdom.

What has changed? Me? Having Bryn? I don't know. But this past weekend, I was able to play, really play, with both the cast and with my partner in crime, Lucy to my Ethel, and the only other member of HOEF that does more than one or two weekends at GARF, Anne. Perhaps it is the beautiful friendship that has formed between her Bo and my Bryn. Perhaps it is Anne's extrovert that brings my introvert along, often kicking and screaming, to get to know the cast.

Whatever it is, I am profoundly sad on days that I have to miss attending GARF, even though it means a 5 am start every Saturday and a late afternoon arrival back home, dirty and sweaty and hot every Sunday between the middle of April and the first weekend in June. I long to be in the lanes, even though that means pulling turkey tendons out of Bryn's mouth and replacing steak sandwiches that she snatches in the blink of an eye. I dream of the joust, and of watching with pride as Bryn thumps her tail when her favorite princess rides by, upside down in her saddle, even though I'm fighting the reflection of the sun off the light colored sand which is swirling about in my eyes and nose.

I'm hoping that this feeling of Rennie family will continue into the fall when I am again with my HOEF family in the dog barn on the eastern side of Fairhaven, and that we can project the kind of skilled performance that we are learning at GARF into our wonderfully laid back home at the Enchanted Chalice in Greenville, SC. Vikings ahoy!

I did say tunnels in the title, didn't I? While GARF is the light at the end of one tunnel, the fact that I only have four days left until my summer break is certainly another. But that tunnel is not quite as bright because I will have several months of empty coffee meetings to look forward to without Daisy. While it hasn't been easy without her, it has been easier because I've had work to distract me. Without my daily commute to Clemson, I am going to have to face what our reality looks like now; no queen on the end of my bed, huffing because I've rearranged my legs and accidentally knocked her about. No beautiful blonde/red fawn fur glimmering in the green grass of the back yard as she sunbathes. No teeth chattering in my ear.

But you see that muppet in the picture with me? She is a light of her own, and she and Willow are there to distract me when they can and snuggle with me when they can't. Their light comes to find me in my tunnel and shines into the darkness to remind me to keep moving forward.

Finally, there is light at the end of the Superginormous Manuscript tunnel...book one in the three book series that it has become is almost ready to go to Amazon, and that is both exciting and horrifying. I took the first Camp Nanowrimo to edit the second book, and am not working on editing/fleshing out the third in between expense reports and mad garb sewing/laundering. So all in all, my life has far more light than dark. I just need to be able to remember that and hang on to it...and keep moving.

When too much is too much...

My Allen Face...or annoyed face.

We all have breaking points. Some of us have higher pain (emotional and physical) thresholds than others of us. Some people thrive on deadlines and last minute pressure, other people fold in the face of increased intensity.

I'm not sure which one of those categories best suits me. In reality, I think that it fluctuates, as I'm sure it does for most people. But right now I am feeling close to the edge of my patience, my sanity, and my ability to interact with others in any way other than with anger, and y'all, that just isn't me.

2017 has been rough so far. It started out way back in 2016 with losing Daisy. I have joked since she came into my life that when I lost her I'd have to be hospitalized because I would lose such a big part of my own soul there wouldn't be much left.

And then it happened and it was terrible and awful and my heart hurt then and hurts now every time I think of her or see her face come up in my FB timeline. I want to simultaneously carry a copy An American Greyhound in Yorkshire around with me all the time, and rip the book to shreds because I can't stand to see her eyes staring out from the front of it. My rational mind reminds me that all dog lovers and pet parents go through this when their animals depart this life, but my heart screams into its own vacuum that it was too soon or not fair or my fault, and that I will never ever let myself be hurt like that again.

I said that after Clowny, and Mills, and Jeany, and Hunky, and Profile, and Franny, and Zooey, and Lizzard, and Bo...and Buffy...and Midgit...and I always do, over and over.

So  I started my new semester on the back foot due to that familiar upturned beehive that is my brain and things were not any better at work. I am not able nor willing to go into details here (or anywhere, really), but vicarious trauma is real, y'all.  It leads to weird things like physical pain, memory loss, insomnia and at the very least, irritability. Next week is our spring break and I will only be down here once for a meeting...and it's like a reward, dessert at the end of a meal of nothing but olives and asparagus. I'm hoping to get my head on straight again during those 5 very short days of doing almost nothing.

But then again, those are five days that start with coffee meetings without Daisy, so I'm not holding my breath.

You're my back bone.
You're my cornerstone.
You're my crutch when my legs stop moving.
You're my head start.
You're my rugged heart.
You're the pulse that I've always needed.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, my heart never stops beating...
For you, for you.

(from Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips)

FTH Oopsie Daisy, 14 August 2004 - 2 December 2016

She truly was transcontinental.

You know, I'm sitting here staring at the blank screen and can't even bring myself to type the words that she's gone...and she's been gone for two months now.  I still expect to come home and hear her whistling from the bedroom, demanding that I hurry up and let her out. But the whistle has fallen silent.

I listen for her toenails on the hardwood floors and remember how, when we lived in the UK, she made no sound at all on the carpet and could sneak up on me, suddenly jamming that needle nose into my ear and exhaling. There's nothing in my ear now, no cold nose or loud exhalation of warm doggie breath. It's just silent.

I call the other two dogs by her name and they look at me, with a mixture (I think) of confusion and sadness, wondering simultaneously who I am talking to and where Daisy is. I wonder that too.  Is she with the Fab Five Plus Clowny? Are they now the Magnificent Seven? I don't get answers, though. As always, my Bridge Pack is silent.

We see things that she would have loved, go to places that made her happy, and the memories are sometimes so strong that I can smell her Frito Feet and feel her nose pressed up against my neck, as she would do to make sure of me. I think for a moment that I can hear her Snappy Jaw that should have struck fear, but didn't, not in me...but there is no snappy jaw, not anymore. Everything is silent.

She was a larger sized female for her breed, but she was Bryn's Little Big sister.  She was a good foot taller than Willow, and lorded that size over her Little Little Sister. They still run and play and I can hear their tags jangling as they bound up and down the stairs. But Daisy's tags, still on her purple dragonfly collar, remain silent.

I want a do-over.  I want more time. I want for her to not have suffered through the heart murmur and the heart disease and the Lasix. I want to take her to Ireland and to Canada. I want her to have the jacket with all the little patches from everywhere she was able to visit. All these things I want...and all she wanted was to be able to rest.  Rest well, my world traveler, my Psycho Puppy Girl, my Angel...my Mei Mei.  You earned it.  I just wish it wasn't so silent around here.

Sandy Paws Wrap Up or "I told you I'd blog that!"

Screaming at the beach is gnome-much fun!
Photo Courtesy of K. Lazenby

In its own unique way, Sandy Paws time has come and gone again.  We spend weeks on Facebook and in text messages and emails planning and laughing and looking forward to seeing each other.  We despair that we only see each other once a year.  We arrive, and from that moment on there is hugging and laughing and screaming and cheering and spending money and all the exciting things we've looked forward to for the past 364 days.

And it is gone, it is over, in the blink of tearful eyes.  Even though this year my time at Sandy Paws was infinitely more challenging due to the addition of one big furry puppy who only has manners when she pleases, it was still gone and over too fast, and we were heading back up I-95 to our lives and jobs.  How does that happen?  Why can't the enjoyment last as long as the anticipation?  I find myself now back in those 364 days, waiting for Sandy Paws 2015 when I can see my FTH family again...hopefully with a much better behaved Bryn next year.

Now, on to the part of the weekend that made me put my "I'm Gonna Blog That" face on:

I will admit that in the past I have been one of those greyhound owners that I'm about to talk about...and I will extend my heartfelt apologies to anyone that owns a little dog or a big dog or any other kind of non-greyhound or non-sighthound dog that has come to a greyhound event and gotten the Hairy Eyeball from me.  I found out on this trip just how unpleasant even the most well-meaning people can be when they identify your dog as Other or NotAGreyhound and make a point of either looking at you like you've got four heads or telling you how to manage your dog in the sea of apparently ravenous high prey drive greyhounds ahead.  I mean really...I think if we did a survey of the dogs that attended Sandy Paws this year you would find that a great many of them live...are you ready? WITH OTHER BREEDS or even...gasp...CATS AND OTHER SPECIES.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have known, loved, and lived with some real Cat-Zappers.  I saw a foster dog catch my cat in his front paws in mid-air.  I know the possibilities.  But for crying out loud...the reception that Anne and I got when we entered the conference center with Millie (Boston terrier who lives with a greyhound and a bloodhound and was NOT on a flexi-lead, thankyouverymuch) and Bryn (wild-eyed Irish Wolfhound puppy of a mere 9 months who is still not sure about everyone and everything she meets) was less than welcoming.  Granted, not all of the almost 200 people that attended know me personally and/or know that I have a greyhound as well as the Big Hairy Beastie that came with me to Sandy Paws, but it's a good guess that I do IF I AM THERE.

Here are just a few things to chew on if you happened to be in the vicinity of the traveling circus that is me, Anne, and our Nons at the Jekyll Island conference center over the Sandy Paws weekend.

1. The fact that Bryn pulls me around is not funny, really.  It happens when you have a puppy brain in a 97lb body attached to an owner with the upper body strength of a Keebler Elf (to borrow from Sheldon Cooper).  It is a little embarrassing, to be honest, because I've never owned a dog like her before and am still learning the best way for both of us to be able to walk calmly and pleasantly.

2. My wolfhound is not going to eat your (fill in name of other breed here) as long as I am still attached to her and/or am conscious.  There is no need to glare at me or pull your greyhound around on the other side of you to protect your precious greyhound from Bryn.  In fact, you may be called out on your Death Glare if we happen to see you do it.

3. I understand that not everyone likes big dogs.  But for heaven's sake, y'all...this is a sighthound gathering and the hound in question is not an Italian Greyhound!  I'm assuming that most of the people there have at least a passing familiarity with sighthounds that are at least 50lbs and some much more than that (not always because they are big boys, either, but that's another blog for another day).

4. If I tell you that Bryn needs some space then she needs some space.  It doesn't matter how many whatevers you have raised/bred/raced/whatever in your day, I know my dog better than you do.  End of.  I appreciate all the offers for help over the weekend from everyone (including my friend Brian who asked me to let Bryn come running at him...which I did) and the compliments were fab for her and me.  It's hard to believe she has only been in my life for just under 5 months...feels like 5 years some days.

5. A Boston Terrier on a stationary leash that is being held by her owner is probably owned by someone savvy about the prey drives of greyhounds and other sighthounds and will NOT be putting her dog or anyone else's in a dangerous position, at least not consciously.  A person who brings a small breed into a sighthound event on a flexi lead is a different matter, but that, again, is a blog for another day.

Overall we had so much fun...Bryn slept most of the way home when she wasn't trying to chew on her Auntsie's ears or get in the front with Millie.  My FTH family is more precious to me than I can express and even now, as I sit here typing, the thought of THEM...the thought of US...it brings tears to my eyes at how important we all are to each other.

Metrognomes of the world, unite.  Onward and upward...to Mountain Hounds if not before!  (You can see pictures of Bryn at SP14 on her blog, Our Daily Bryn, beginning with the entry for 26 March.)

Flashback Post: Xie-xie, Mei-Mei.

After the sadness of the post about Clowny, I found this one, and remembered that I have a safety net...my Mei Mei.  I know!  I talk about her all the time, but y'all, if you lived with her, you'd know.  She is an angel.

Xie-xie, Mei-Mei

Maybe this will be her lucky year at Sandy Paws and she'll be queen...but if not, their loss. :)

I'm so glad she was born. SO glad.

At first, she looked like this...

I've recounted the story of how FTH Oopsie Daisy/Daisy/Daisy Duke/Daisy Mae/Mae/Mei Mei/Princess came into our lives.  You have undoubtedly heard me brag about how she was named by the community of greyhound freaks over at GreyTalk, how she lived on her Mama Caffie's kitchen floor until she was old enough to go outside in the puppy runs, and how my entire family on my mother's side once gathered around the computer to watch her come in spectacularly, amazingly, and fabulously dead last in one of her attempts to break maiden at JAX.

(For those not versed in Racing Vocab, that means she has to win a maiden race to get to run with the big dogs.  She didn't do that at JAX but did at Sanford Orlando, where she got up to Grade A.  I'm sure you've heard THAT story before as well, so I'll move on.)

Then, this happened...

What you haven't heard from me lately is that Daisy is nine years old this week (there is a running debate about the Leelo Babies Birthdate so I celebrate 12-14 August to cover all my bases...and because I love her too much for only one day).  Nine.Years.Old.  It has been almost a decade since I watched via text on GreyTalk that she had been born, almost a decade of knowing about her and waiting for her and loving her.

I know, everyone moons over their dogs like they are the only ones that have that sort of relationship.  I know that I am not the only one that loves my dog.  But y'all, my Mei Mei is special.

She came home to me and Simon at the tender age of 2.75, in March of 2007.  Me and Simon weren't even a Me and Simon at that point, not officially, but he was Daisy's Dah-dee from the start.  She never had trouble understanding him like the other dogs did, and would look up at him with the most adoring expression as he talked to her, as though trying to understand every syllable that came out of his mouth.  She still does that.  With him.  With me if I prattle on too long she licks me to shut me up.

She came into a family of old dogs.  Hunky was 10 when Daisy came home, going on 11, and Jeany would turn 10 the next month.  They were still reeling from the loss of Profile, who was the clear pack leader, and were none too thrilled to have this young and bouncy dog around.  So she adapted to them, not the other way around.  She would defer to them in all things, and became a comfort to both of them as they got older.  She also took their Mommy's focus for awhile, so that they could sit around and love each other and not be bothered by my constant fussing and attention seeking.

After Jeany fell down the stairs in Keighley, Simon kept finding Daisy curled up next to her.  She could have been out exploring her new home, terrorizing the cat, or doing a host of other doggie things, but instead she decided to make sure Jeany was comforted.  I think Jeany actually liked it.  After we lost Jeany, Daisy was forever snuggling up to Hunky, even when he wet his bed, and I'm not sure if it was to comfort him over the loss of Jeany or herownself.  Daisy falls hard in love, and when she loves you, you know it.  She loved her big brother and sister with a fierceness that I wish more people could possess.

And now, all she has to do is this and I'm a goner. 

Now she's back in that position again, after two years in the UK of being the only dog, getting all the attention, and generally living like the Princess she is.  With Clowny's injury and subsequent paralysis, Daisy has to navigate a world where her people are either ignoring her or telling her to be careful, don't stand on Clowny, let him finish eating before you dive into his bowl, etc.  She could turn into a spoiled brat, acting out because she isn't getting the attention she's used to, taking her frustration out on Clowny who is, to be fair, the easiest of targets right now.

But she doesn't.  My precious baby girl, my Daisy Mei Mei backs up when we ask, she waits to be allowed to clean up the food Clowny leaves behind, she snuggles on the bed with him at night until he grouses at her to move.  She takes her toys elsewhere and plays on her own, tossing George, her stuffed monkey, up in the air over and over until someone notices.  She follows me down the hall when I just need to go cry about Clowny a little without letting him see me do it and licks my tears off my face.

Today (and the two days prior) are more than a celebration of her birthday.  Today is a reminder that through some twist of fate, I was given the gift of Daisy.  Love you to absolute bits, my babygirl, to the moon and back.   I don't know what your Daddy and I would have done this summer without you.  Thanks is not enough, not by a longshot.

"You're my back bone.
You're my cornerstone.
You're my crutch when my legs stop moving.
You're my head start.
You're my rugged heart.
You're the pulse that I've always needed.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum my heart never stops beating...
For you, for you."

(from Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips)

Quickie...Cross your fingers, please?

Proud Racer: An American Greyhound
in Yorkshire, by Nancy E. Dunne

Just wanted to give you guys a little heads up that Daisy's second book, An American Greyhound in Yorkshire, has been entered in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest for 2013.  I don't expect that it will go anywhere but...you never know.  Three cheers for Daisy Mei Mei, international dog of mystery...and for her mommy for finally sprouting a pair and going for a contest.  Fingers and paws crossed!

Xie-xie, Mei Mei.

My Mei Mei and Me at Gretna Green, May 2011

Today I want to talk about my dogs.  Well, one of my dogs.  I know, that's a real departure for me.  Well, hang on to your hats.  Today I want to tell you about my angel, my Daisy, my Mei Mei.

The idea came to me while reading a wonderful article from the SF Gate about how greyhounds heal hearts.  Click here to have a read, it's a good one.  I will wait.  You might need a tissue.

I got into the office today meaning to write about that, and found my entry for Daisy to win Beach Bound Hounds Queen this year (she didn't win, but to me she is more than a silly title anyway):

I pre-adopted Daisy when she was about a month or two old, via the Follow That Hound! Program (now sadly closed).  I watched her race (badly) and then when she retired, she came home to me.  Daisy has always been a light in my sometimes dark world, but I’m nominating her today because she made the difference between me giving up and trudging on during the two years we lived in England. Don’t get me wrong, I love England and the reason I moved there, my husband Simon.  I moved there with Daisy and my two other precious GC dogs, Hunky and Jeany.  They arrived a few days before I did and sadly Jeany took a bad fall down the stairs in the house.  She waited until I got there with her little sister Daisy right by her side, literally.  Daisy stuck by Jeany and gave her comfort through what must have been excruciating pain, which was amazing because Daisy was a little afraid of Jeany.  To be fair, we were all a little afraid of her, bless her sweet Diva Princess heart! Sadly, Jeany did not make it through surgery on her shoulder.  Hunky was devastated.  Jeany was his world.  Once again, my Daisy came through and even though she had never been close to either of them, she was Hunky’s shadow, generally making sure of him, to paraphrase Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.  Hunky gave up and went to be with Jeany about a month after we lost her, and Daisy found herself with a new charge:  Mommy. Losing them so close together was awful.  Going through that while 4,000 miles away from everything and everyone I knew was soul destroying, honestly.  I didn’t want to do anything after that, but Daisy knew better.  She would crawl up on the sofa with me and snuggle up for hours.  She got in the bed with me in the mornings after Simon left for work and did everything she could think of to make me smile and laugh (hard work, that).  She helped me remember what was good and happy and furry and loving in life.  Daisy helped me get out into the world again, and was instrumental in making me more social because people always wanted to meet her and pet her (red fawns are apparently more rare in the UK than here, and especially so when they are as tall as Daisy is).  She rode buses and trains like an absolute trooper, and I never had to start a single day while I was there without her bouncing on the bed and licking me from hairline to chin.  We all say that our greyhounds saved us and not the other way around, but I truly believe it to be true for me and Daisy.  She saved me even when I didn’t want saving, and for that (and the fact that she has traveled outside of the US!) I want to nominate her for BBH Queen 2012.

If you look up the meaning of Mei Mei you'll find a variety of answers.  I call her that because, via being a Browncoat myself and learning all my Chinese phrases that I know from the Firefly 'verse, I heard Simon Tam call River that during one episode...and looked it up.  I choose to call her that because one translation I saw was beautiful little girl.  The title, "Xie-xie, Mei Mei," in the 'verse would translate to Thank you, Mei Mei.  Dong-ma?

Daisy came to me at a very turbulent time in my life.  My ex-husband and I had pre-adopted her when she was about a month old, and from that time until she was two I watched every one of her 5 attempts at breaking maiden at JAX and then watched for the results of her races at Sanford-Orlando.  Babygirl got up to grade A there!  In the late autumn/early winter of 2006 I got "the email" from Cathie Lambert, Daisy's "Mama Caffie," saying that my girl was ready to come home.

Profile was sick.  The tumor on top of his skull was getting bigger and was impairing his vision and his ability to eat.  I took him to the vet at Thanksgiving and found out that it was cancer.  Hunky and Jeany weren't young by any means, and my old cat Franny was getting older and more frail with every passing day.  Oh, and I was in the middle of a divorce which thankfully was amicable, and had moved to Montgomery, Alabama which might as well have been the other side of the world from all my greyhound support.  When Cathie emailed me I freaked out and said it wasn't the right time.  But she knew better.  And she was right.

I picked up my Mei Mei in February of 2007 after losing Profile in January.  My heart wasn't ready.  But she knew better.  Daisy came dancing into my life and always seems to know when I need a spin around her own personal dance floor, because I'm missing Profile or Hunky or Jeany or Franny or even Mills, her nemesis.  She crawls up onto the sofa with me, inching ever closer until she is touching me and then she just stays there.  Hours after hour after hour she stays there.  That's what I was talking about in the entry for BBH Queen.

Now don't get me wrong, Daisy is 110% her Dah-dee's girl.  My Mister is, without a doubt, the center of Daisy's universe.  But she has a job to do, and that job is to make sure Mommy is okay, and she does it without fail nor complaint.  She is my angel, my Mei Mei.  Clown brings his own talents to our little family, but it is Daisy that keeps me off the ledge.  Ta very much, Mei.  Mommy loves you to absolute bits.

Light reading till I'm done catching up: FLASHBACK POST!

An American Greyhound in Yorkshire, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

Since we're coming up on the first of September, let's see where I was this time last year... "Things I Learned This Holiday" from 1 September 2011

A Falk in the Driftwood Worest..with Peaches.

Are we there yet?, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

(thanks and love to Zilch the Torysteller for part of the title...)

This weekend was the annual Sandy Paws event...and if this were years past I'd be doing something uber fun right now in Jacksonville before getting ready to go to Orange Park to watch the dogs run. But alas, with gainful employment in higher education does not always come annual leave, so here I am, back from my break, blogging. Yeah.

I headed down Thursday night after work to spend a whirlwind weekend of meeting, greeting, laughing, and even a little tired crying (on the way home yesterday) with people that are one of my families of choice: my greyhound friends and more specifically my Follow That Hound friends. Even though with the closure of B&J Kennels this year the FTH program is no more, we all still get together and we all still feel like a big extended family.

Friday afternoon Anne and Leah and I went out to Driftwood Beach for some photos of me and the dogs...but I ended up just wandering around and taking pictures because HOLY MOLY is that place amazing. Oaks felled by a hurricane created petrified sculpture. It's like walking around and seeing dinosaur bones. Insane.

Friday night was spent laughing until we cried with good friends. I need more of that in my life. I need my Peaches.

Saturday was more Sandy Paws fun, including the crowning of the king and queen, a live auction (including one of Daisy's books that went for $55 I think?), and then the tired returning to the villa for one last night's sleep to the sound of the waves.

Yesterday was awful...I hate the annual theft of an hour by Daylight Saving Time even though it means I'm only 4 hours behind Simon rather than 5. But the pretty face in the picture there kept me company for the ride back to Greenville, and I wouldn't trade a minute of that time even if it did seem to be an hour earlier.

I'll get my pictures uploaded to Flickr soon...stay tuned. Roooooooo!

Again, for Cathie and Leah...

Daisy in Orange, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

...I've got my blogging face on! Well, I had it on last Thursday, as well as my Sad Dog Owner face AND my I'm Trying to Avoid Homicide face.

Daisy came back "home" to the US last Thursday. She flew all by her little self from Manchester, England, to Atlanta, Georgia. Simon and I made arrangements via a pet relocation service to get her on her way, and we were assured of a certain number of things upon handing over almost $1600 to them.

On the day, everything started well and Simon and his dad got Daisy to the airport and checked in on time. She was xrayed and then sent on her way, and apparently her flight was fine and she actually got to Atlanta 10 minutes ahead of schedule.

My friend Joanne and I headed down to pick her up. We were told by the relocation folks in England that all I would have to do is turn up at the Air Cargo warehouse, pay my import fee of $50, present them with an airbill number, and they would then hand Daisy over to me. That is not exactly what happened.

The very very very nice man at the warehouse told me that while Daisy was on the ground and on her way to the warehouse, I wasn't going to be able to collect her that night because she'd arrived too close to the time that the customs officers at the warehouse leave for the day. I assured him that we'd been told that they were there 24-7. He assured me with a very sad look on his face that they left at 5 every day, and any animals that arrived too close to that deadline would be taken to a nearby kennel for the night and their owners could collect them. I told him that we hadn't sent any food with her and he said they would feed her. I told him that we feed her raw and further we'd paid a lot of money to get her on that flight and I was not leaving without her. He looked like he was going to cry but told me he couldn't do anything. I went in the bathroom, cried a little, swore a lot, and then got on the phone to Delta.

Oh, easy, the lovely representative I spoke with said. You get her paperwork from them, take it to customs in the actual airport, they will approve it, and then you bring it back. I told the guy that, he grinned and got to work on her paperwork. He asked if I knew where to go, and I said that all she had told me was "customs."

All of you who fly regularly...where is customs in an airport? Yep, you got it, inside the secure area where you need a boarding pass to get through. A boarding pass assumes that you are BOARDING a flight. See a problem yet?

I got to the airport and NO ONE could tell me where I needed to go to get a gate pass to get through to customs. I spent an hour just finding out that I had to go on my own to find a TSA agent to get a gate pass. Only, that's NOT what I had to do at all, I needed to go to DELTA to get a gate pass (where I started, an hour prior). There is something about telling a ticketing agent that TSA sent you that makes them very snarky, just so you know before you try it. Finally, I had my gate pass and I was going through security.

One full body scan later, I was on the train under the airport to the concourse at the complete other end of the airport for international arrivals/departures and customs. I spent most of hour two since leaving the warehouse getting to that concourse and then sitting while the customs agent checked her paperwork and finally stamped it. Back through security (thankfully no full body scan this time), back on the train, back to the car and by 8:40pm we were waiting on them to wheel Daisy's crate out. For those keeping score, that was four hours after she arrived in Atlanta, and a whopping EIGHTEEN hours after she was put in her crate at Manchester Airport.

My baby girl hadn't made a single mess in her crate. Bless. I was so happy to see her that I just sat there and held her for a minute, big stupid tears rolling as she wiggled to get away from me and glare back at her box. And now she's here, she's learning about being one of five dogs in a house instead of the only one, and she's taking most of it in stride. I think I've seen her snarl more in the past two days than I have since I've had her.

A strongly worded complaint will be issued to Delta because that was just unacceptable. Not only did the right hand not know what the left hand was doing, but I don't think it knew there WAS a left hand.

There is a positive, though...Simon's visa was approved at his interview a week ago today, and on this past Friday he got his passport and the Mysterious Brown Sealed Envelope that he has to take AS IS to customs when he arrives in the States to stay.

Well...to stay until I've had it with my life here and feel that old need to move on...but hopefully that won't be for a long time yet.

Just around the bend...

Simon and Daisy, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

It seems like it was just yesterday when I took that photo over there. It was at Sandy Paws 2007, and I had only had Daisy in my life full time for one less day than I'd had Simon!

Five years ago today I drove to Hartsfield International Airport to pick up Simon on his second ever trip to the United States. I was scared to death...that he wouldn't like me, that I wouldn't like him, that the dogs would be TOO MUCH, etc. etc. etc. But everything changed as soon as I got out of the car and bent my neck backward for the first of whoknowshowmany times to hug him. It was right and perfect and it still makes me hoppy to think about.

Hoppy: to be in a state where one's feet simply cannot remain on the ground. Eg: me in a fabric store.

Moving on...

I was scared and nervous and and and to pick up our Mei Mei at Sandy Paws the next day, but we headed on over to the villa where Cathie and Anne were to get her. Once again, all that melted when I had her precious little self in my arms, even though she wanted to run from the crazy lady strangling her.

Five years, gone in a blink...and just around the bend, Daisy in my arms and picking Simon up at the airport. Life is good...or will be, just around that very happy bend.

Spring...in February?

My Mommy is a geek. Seriously., a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

I went across the way today to grab lunch at the student center and was struck by how WARM it is. WARM, y'all. Like open the sun roof and put Kid Rock on the radio, warm. Like I can't believe this time last year I was freezing, warm!

I was reminded in that short walk of one of the reasons why I wanted to move our family to the United States. While there are many, MANY lovely things about the UK and England in particular, and I do miss parts of it every single day...the weather is not one of those things.

61F in February. 16C. That's the great British Summer if you live up north like I did. I had to TAKE OFF MY SCARF outdoors because I was TOO HOT. (I didn't even bring a coat today!)

Oh, and in other news...she's coming home. Very soon. Like next week soon if at all possible. And then she can think I'm a dork and a geek and whatever all in person, and it will be okay, because she will be HERE. With ME. Mei Mei. Life might be starting to get a little bit...good?

I don't think I can jinx this...

An American Greyhound in Yorkshire Cover, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

My little girl, my psycho puppy, my sweet Mei Mei who has gone so native she's forgotten that cookie means biscuit...is coming home to me and Clown VERY VERY soon!

I'm not mentioning anything else because I've already jinxed that once, and we didn't bury St. Joseph in the backyard yet. Mainly because we don't have a backyard, and we'd have to bury him upside down in a plant pot. And then the plant pot would get sold and .... yeah, I wasn't going to mention that, was I?

Coming soon to an airport near me...FTH Oopsie Daisy, world traveler and my baby girl. I might even get her some choccie bikkies to celebrate.

Flashback post #4: February 2010

Hello from Daisy

(hopefully I'll be saying hello again soon!)

SOLD! Almost...

Top of the World...well, okay, the Moor..., a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

Yep, after almost four years of waiting and tidying and waiting and chasing down estate agents for feedback someone wants to buy our house.

Let me say that again, because I'm not sure I believe it yet... SOMEONE WANTS TO BUY OUR HOUSE IN KEIGHLEY!

I'm not sure how I feel. I'm overwhelmed and overjoyed and when you add in that I'm probably overtired I find myself to be a little bit...sad. Yep, as much as I used to scream that I hated that house, I'm sad. It was our first house after we were married. It was the house where I stayed the first time I came to visit Hubs.

But at the same time, everything is coming together in a way that I admit I never thought it would. Hubs has his interview at the end of February, almost a month from today. The buyer wants to take possession of the house in four weeks. I may very well be picking Daisy up from Atlanta in less time than that. It's all more than I ever thought would happen.

Now to find a place to live so that the four of us aren't continuing to squat in Anne and Damian's house...

Hey, did I mention I'm now working at Clemson University? No? Oops. Next blog post. Swear.

Lurve

Lurve, a photo by Nancy Dunne on Flickr.

Well, my bags are packed (not really), it's early morn (in the US), the taxi's waiting (he's here for a neighbor I guess), he's blowin' his horn (not really, that's just someone jaywalking)...

I don't leave till tomorrow, but I am trying to go on and process it today so that tomorrow isn't so awful. Flying days SUCK, but at least there are some bright spots this time:

I start a new job on Tuesday. More details on that later, as I'm not sure they've told everyone else that applied for the position.

We are an interview (and possibly a piece of documentation or two) away from Simon having his green card.

I will be living with my ClownA at least M-F and hopefully more if I can find a place to live that I can afford.

But still, something is tugging at me. This tiny island grabs hold of you with all it has when you let it, and it is so very hard to let go. One day I'll be back for good, but for now we are ready to start a new chapter living in America. I've been ready to start that chapter since May!

See you guys on the other side of a big ocean and a tin bird.