Life Can Be Like a Box Full of Puppies in a Stick Shift Pickup

I have not updated the blog recently and I have been feeling somewhat guilty. I have been thinking that I just don't have anything interesting to relate, but upon further reflection, I see that I have been pretty busy with a lot of different issues, just nothing very big. I hardly know where to start. But I am feeling a little like the half hour some 30 years ago when I put a cardboard box of six 6-week old Brittany puppies in the cab of my old stick shift green Dodge pickup to take to the vet clinic for shots, dew claw removal, and tail docking. Did that ever turn into a circus. Two miles into a seven mile journey while I am on Highway 95 doing sixty or so, one of the pups manages to get out of the box. I could not believe it. Next thing he is on the floor and under my feet. I can tell downshifting and breaking might be a challenge when I get to the edge of town--all of a sudden another comes over the edge and tips the box and now I have six wiggly-butted, little white and orange pups all over everywhere. I think I would rather have had to deal with a yellow jacket in the cab than deal with six scampering pups on the floor, in my lap, under the seat and trying to get a lick on my face while slowing down on the highway. Of course, when I wished to put a foot on the break pedal one of the pups interpreted that as a cue I wanted to play and the shoe laces were savagely attacked. Move the left foot to the clutch, oh yeah, another invitation to play footsie. That brought all but one to the melee at the pedals. The drive through town to the vet clinic was a long ten minutes that had me a nervous wreck. I did not know if I was going to crush some little critter on the pedals or veer into some parked car. I thought of stopping, but was afraid that if I opened the door, I would have six puppies taking off in six different directions in the middle of downtown Weiser and besides if I did get them all rounded up and into the box, how was I going to keep these canine Houdinis in the box? I decided to make my stand in the parking lot of the vet clinic. To make matters worse this was in the summer and it was one of the scorcher days. The pickup did not have air conditioning and I had to keep the windows closed because some of the pups loved to climb up my body to get on my shoulder where they could get a good angle for a kiss or a piercing little nip of my ear. I was afraid one of them would launch himself from my shoulder right out the open window. They all managed to live and I never crashed. Life can be that way sometimes.

I have so much going on right now. Tim Woodward published a column in the Idaho Statesman about George Shoup, last territorial governor, first State governor, first U.S. Senator from Idaho and instrumental in the founding of the State. The column was specifically about Idaho honoring him by placing his statue in the National Hall of Statuary in the Capitol Building. Each state can honor two people in the Hall. Do you know who your State honors with statues in the National Hall of Statuary? Most people do not. Well, the article hit on one of my really raw nerves because George Shoup commanded the troops who carried out the worse of the atrocities in the massacre of hundreds of peaceful Indians (mostly women and children and most of the women raped) at the Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado in 1864. His troops even went into the field on the second day after the battle and just looked for cripples whom they raped, mutilated while still alive and scalped. Easily, nothing worse has ever happened in the annals of American military history and Shoup was the commander of this Third Colorado Volunteers who did this. The whole story is a dark stain in the history of the U.S. and the actions of the soldiers was condemned by the U.S. Army after a military and Congressional investigation. President Grant strongly condemned the actions of the Colorado volunteers, Chivington and the commanders of the Colorado Volunteers. This massacre equates to the Mi Lai Massacre for those of that era although our soldiers at Mi Lai did not rape and kill cripples, but some children were killed purposefully. I can only believe the people of Idaho do not know of the role George Shoup played at the Sand Creek Massacre or they would never have honored him by placing his statue in the National Hall of Statuary. Well, at least I hope the people would feel that he should not be honored. I wrote a shortened version of the events leading up to the Massacre and of Shoup's role and sent it to Tim Woodward. I have yet to have a return from him. I am wondering what his reaction will be to my response to his column. If anybody is interested please comment at the end of this blog and I will e-mail the essay I sent to Tim Woodward.

Then there is the upcoming trip to New Mexico that J and I will make in June. I have bought a book that is a guide to fly fishing northern New Mexico and I bought a book on how to tie flies that are particularly productive in Northern New Mexico. So there is a lot of fly tying to do and a lot of fly tying materials to accumulate so as to tie those flies and those materials are not cheap. Then there is the rotary fly tying vice that I bought from Cabelas and that alone is a whole new blog. I am not happy with Cabelas and J is really ticked at Cabelas. This row with Cabelas is going to require another long letter and I have to do it because J is such a consumer rights freak, and in this case, well she should be.

Oh, and the Consumers Report came this week. Jane opens it up and says, "Whew! We're safe. Everything is about how to save money in this time of rapidly rising prices." I am thinking, "Thank God!" Then from the lips of J came a word that I think may have crossed the lines of polite society! Just a thought mind you, may not have heard what I thought I heard, but she said, "~~~~ there is an article about the best refrigerators." Man, wouldn't you know it, but our refrigerator is about the same age as the stove. So you know what that means.

Oh, and there is much more, much, much more.

And there is the constant upkeep of the yard and pond. Geez. See the picture of the three piles of dead sunflower stalks burning last Sunday.

Yeeeeeoooooooowwwwwwww, Papa Coyote is getting worn out just thinking of all that is going on around here.

Reta, my mushroom and wildflower hunting buddy sends me an e-mail saying that she is really lichen the mushroom club and thinks that I am a fungi.