Annual Machine Head Day

   Today Dick once again opened his fantastic metal shop up to the motley crew of volunteers to make cat & dog artwork for the annual Art Unleashed auction. As you can see, Dick, Robert, Jana, Connie, Randy, Jason, Amber, Ricky, Matt, Jared—even Aki, Taylor & their new pal Lambert!—and I, had a blast.
   We made about 40-50 pieces of metal art for donation, and this year we got extra creative. Our best collection yet! Sincere thanks to Dick Jobe for his generosity!

"You're not thinking of putting US to WORK, are you?!"

Lutes family photo

Connie & her adorable grandson

Whoa. Ricky is TALL. And I am SHORT.

Dick & Matt get down to business

Cutting begins

A tribute to my dear Gypsy

Ricky prepares the rods for garden stakes

Sandblasting

Amber's in the grind

Artwork, and the dog who inspired it

The all-important lunch order: Jimmy John's this year

Artwork piling up

Tons of yard art

Artwork almost taller than me!

Frame me up

Sitting down on the job

Look at us—we're ART!

The Possum's Paw

   This morning I went downstairs to let the dogs out, and noticed something sitting on the rug—just a couple of feet from the door. I stepped closer, then immediately recoiled from the pungent odor. Someone left a desiccated foot on my deck! At first I wasn't sure whose foot it was, but upon looking closer at the appearance of the toes and claws, decided it must be from a possum. (This was later confirmed when I found a patch of black, dried skin with telltale-colored hair on it. Taylor had found it first, and rolled on it. Are you shivering from sheer grossness? Good. Me too.)

   The paw reminded me of that short story "The Monkey's Paw" by W.W. Jacobs—so I made sure not to make any wishes on it. It's funny how a surprise event can trigger a distant memory. (There are plenty of useful things I can't seem to remember... but old short stories I read in middle school? No problem.)

"It's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."

   The moral to the story is "Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it"; in other words, our lives are ruled by fate, and there is a penalty to be paid for trying to overcome it. I'll definitely be careful about what I wish for after this not-so-subtle reminder!

Aki Unconed

   Tonight when I returned home from work, I could tell Aki was feeling better (even if her wounds still look a little gnarly). So we headed to our agility class--the last one of this series. Only one other student showed up, perhaps due to the heat, so Emma & Max, and Aki & Taylor & me, took turns and ran the course for an hour ourselves. Suddenly we could feel all of the 94 degrees! But the dogs did pretty well despite that, and we had fun, which is the whole idea. Aki did fine without the cone and it was fun to see her bouncing around unhindered again.

   She and Taylor ran laps in the dog park after class (too fast for my camera!), chasing each other, exploring, & hunting by running zig-zags to canvas the entire area. (We saw a large groundhog on the way in tonight.)

Hiding in the shadows...

   Afterward I resisted the urge to just stand & bask in the afterglow of my superclean garage, got the weed wacker started finally, & trimmed the whole yard. After that, and dinner, I'm ready to crash! Good night, internets!

And Then There Were Turtles

   As if Jen & Greg's place wasn't cool enough, the previous homeowner had left then a large cement enclosure, overgrown with plants—the perfect habitat for their collection of box turtles! My dogs had only seen a turtle once, this year on Easter, while hiking at Shawnee Mission Park with Madeline & Bruce. They were *fascinated*.

   Aki, who is only one-quarter of my body weight, suddenly became so strong I could barely contain her! She is a mighty hunter for sure!

Bruce: Which one do you want, Aki?
Aki: Sorry, Bruce. They're ALL MINE.

The three amigos, looking like excited lil' kids:

She almost bit it's head off. Thank goodness for lightning-fast turtle reflexes!!!

It was time to go, so the happy Shibas piled in the car...

 And in merely a few minutes... ZONKED!!!

    Somehow they managed to be wide-awake by the time they got home. Jen sent us home with TREATS—GOOD ONES!!!

 So entranced he cannot hold up his fat head to make eye contact:

   So yeah, all in all, about as good as a doggy day gets. And for me, having all this fun after surviving a Warrior Dash? Priceless!

Extra super busy tiring weekend!

   I had a lot of stuff to do this weekend, and then did about 10x what I had actually planned... on Saturday I ran errands (clothes shopping, kayak-accessory-shopping, grocery shopping, and sushi lunch) and was out for several hours. Then I came home and mowed the lawn (enjoying the gorgeous weather!) while I did a load of laundry, then attached my kayak rack to the Rav4, and loaded the kayak just to make sure it worked. I invited Kelly over for a homemade pizza dinner, baked up a storm, and then we watched Anthony Bourdain's new Kansas City episode that aired earlier this week. (He visited Oklahoma Joe's, Stroud's, The Savoy Grill, Cigar Box, Town Topic, Rosedale BBQ, BB's Lawnside, Woodyard BBQ, Dirt Green Farms, tailgated at the Chiefs Game, and saw the Hair Museum in Independence.)
   Today I started working in the yard at 8 am (before I'd even had my coffee!), made a quick trip to the hardware store, planted coleus, weed-whacked the back yard, ate lunch on the front steps and talked to Loren & Champ, and then kept working right up until 1:15, when I had to quickly change and head to Swanson's for Aki's agility class. We spent a couple hours there running like crazy.

   On the way home, we stopped at the hardware store for another load of dirt, and then I worked in the yard for 3 more hours. The dogs sat out on the deck and observed, while chewing a couple of the big "dinosaur" bones (aka beef femur) I had bought for them. I went inside & out, checking on Gypsy and doing 3 more loads of laundry.
   By the end of the evening, I had watered, fertilized, and applied weed killer to the whole lawn, put down 19 bags of top soil to level out the grade (19 x 40 lbs. = 760 lbs.... a LOT to buy, load, lift, carry to the backyard, and dump. But apropos for Earth Day, I moved a lot of earth!). I cut and laid chicken wire over the new dirt, pounding large staples to hold it down—which I HOPE will finally keep Aki from digging, so that grass can grow again. She has been focused on one 4' x 4' spot for a few years, ever since she dug down and discovered an old credit yard. She seems convinced that there's more to find there...

   I weeded the flower beds. Moved some rock. Bought a bunch of perennials and planted them in my flower beds and containers. Mulched. Watered. Thanks to the head start Mom gave me, my yard might actually shape up okay this season!

Happy to be outside:

   After all that, I picked up, put the tools away, and came inside to give Gyp her treatment, give her another new food, feed the dogs, shower, run to McDonald's to get a Filet-o-Fish sandwich for Gyp (she only took 2 tiny bites, so I ate it), finish laundry, read the paper, have a glass of wine, blog, and crash!

Lesson: The Shiba Always Wins

   Let's see... When last I recounted the Ballad of the Shiba in the Compost Bin, I had added an extra layer of defense, which I thought to be overkill, but surely effective.

   But for those of you just joining us, a recap: Taylor used to break in to the large plastic bin by removing one of the four doors at the base, and pulling out compost and having a snack. So I constructed a chicken wire fence around it. I should have buried the chicken wire, because he dug under it, as well as tore the wire from the stakes in the back corner, and got right in to eat more garbage.

   "Okay," I thought. "I'll buy extra stakes and pound them through the handle of each of the doors to hold them in place. It didn't work—he still managed to lift them, giving him access to the sweet, sweet garbage. Or, if the mood would strike him, he'd mix things up by removing the lid (HOW?!) and go in top-down.

   That's when I bought the sturdy, wrought-iron fence sections to ensure that once-and-for-all, this beast would be permanently separated from the refuse. (Never mind that the fence cost twice as much as the bin itself!) Surely there was NO WAY he could get around this!

   Well, of course I was wrong. He managed to jump up and break the hinges on the lid, and continued to dine despite the protective fence. I'd find the lid in the corner of the yard, and peels, coffee grounds, paper towels, and the like strewn about.

   "This will be easy to stop—finally, I've won!" I foolishly thought, as I placed a very large, heavy landscaping stone on top of the bin. It is heavy for ME to move, and quite frankly, a pain when I need to fill the bin. (But you saw the word "foolishly" up there, right?)

   Last night I went outside to find the stone five feet from the bin, the lid removed, and the garbage all over the yard again. And a fat, happy-yet-shameful-looking Taylor on the deck.

The bin is much taller and the fence secure—HOW is he still getting in there?!

   Of course the simplest solution would be to get rid of the bin and stop composting. But I like the idea of composting, as it significantly reduces my volume of trash, and in theory, will someday provide rich soil for my flower beds (assuming the contents don't all end up in Taylor's belly). Besides, then I'd be letting the dog win. Who's the boss here, anyway?!
   So this weekend I will be electrifying the iron fence, then digging a deep moat around the bin, and filling it with piranha and crocodiles. Cameras trained on it. A war elephant on guard. Shiba-seeking missiles pointed toward it.
   Yet somehow, deep down, I am sure this will not be the end of this story.  TO BE CONTINUED...