In less than a month, I could have an eight-week old golden labrador puppy wriggling in my arms, licking my face, peeing on me out of sheer excitement at being alive.
Tonight I went to an information session for the Pacific Assistance Dog Society (PADS) to find out how to become a puppy raiser. Turns out it's a lot of work and a lot of fun and they need people DESPERATELY to take a puppy home for a year right away. The litter is three or four weeks old, which means they've got to be matched with their handlers (puppy raisers) just before Christmas. Bad timing for most people, of course, especially me, actually, since my brother is getting married on New Year's Eve, but that's life.
I want one. I want one SO BADLY it hurts. They had two little 12-week old golden labs at the info session wearing their smart little yellow capes and they just made everyone smile. How could they not? They're the epitome of cute.
These dogs are super adorable, but they're also incredibly impressive, even at such a young age. They already know to come on command, lie down, and to stay quietly at their handlers' feet. They're also probably already worth about the same as my car.
A puppy handler (hopefully me, in a month) gets the dog at eight weeks and begins a 12 month journey of a 24-hour per day, seven day per week volunteer job that involves socializing the dog before it goes for formal training with professionals. There is nowhere these puppies cannot go: school, work, the mall, the movie theatre, restaurants, SkyTrain, ferries, hospitals, libraries, churches, concerts, Safeway, you name it. Handlers actually get to carry a card that officially states the Governor General gives them permission to take their puppies anywhere a disabled person would take their service dog. Which is everywhere. I love the idea of walking into Holt Renfrew with a big ol' lab!
But these dogs learn right from day one that when their yellow cape is on, they're working. No playing, no biting, no barking, no distractions. People should not pet these dogs and puppies. They shouldn't even ask if they can pet them. They're working. However, when the cape comes off, it's like Jekyll and Hyde and the dog becomes a regular goofball puppy again.
I love the idea of a dog being at my side all day, every day. Of course, I don't like the idea of having to give him to someone else after a year, but knowing it's not just anyone but someone who will make the best use of (and hopefully really love) the dog is well worth it. The challenge is huge, I suppose, but then again, anything worth doing is difficult.
When I was 13 I got a lab-cross puppy and she was inordinately destructive and took forever to be housebroken. But in the end, she turned out better than alright, and I wouldn't have passed up the chance to have a wonderful 12 years with Velvet. And despite the inevitable agony of having to say goodbye to another k-9 friend again, at least this time it won't be a permanent farewell, but a toast to the promising future of this well-socialized dog who will be starting a very important job with his or her ecstatic new owner.
So, fingers crossed, I'll be the proud new (temporary) owner of a little bundle of furry joy in a few weeks time.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Snowball effect
It's raining and cold and I'm thinking I would love to just stay inside all day, but I know I should run. Not just because I need the exercise and the mental health boost, but because I've got less than two weeks to train for a 10 km race.
The thing is, I haven't run more than twice since I've been back from Alberta, and it's kind of a snowball effect when it comes to making or breaking a habit: If it's going well, then things keep getting better. Success builds on success. But every day that I put off running, it becomes that much more difficult to get myself out the door.
One thing I've discovered this year about running, however, is that not all is lost if I don't put on my runners for a few weeks (even months). If I get off track with training, it's still worth it to go for a jog around the block, even just to get some fresh air. And if I haven't been training, it's still worth entering races, because, so far, even races I haven't trained for have been good. And they give me a tangible goal to work towards.
Not just in a physical sense, but also in maintaining any kind of descipline, baby steps are never wasted. It's taken me ages to learn that lesson, because I'm stubborn and tend to want to chuck any progress I've made out the window as soon as it starts to go sideways. Hopefully I'm starting to see the error of my ways in always thinking of things in black or white, either-or, and am slowly coming to a more mature understanding of balance in all things.
So I haven't been running in more than a week, and I sure don't feel like it today, but I'm going to go anyway because I'll be happy I did when it's done. And then I can put another red dot on the calendar for today to mark my effort.
The thing is, I haven't run more than twice since I've been back from Alberta, and it's kind of a snowball effect when it comes to making or breaking a habit: If it's going well, then things keep getting better. Success builds on success. But every day that I put off running, it becomes that much more difficult to get myself out the door.
One thing I've discovered this year about running, however, is that not all is lost if I don't put on my runners for a few weeks (even months). If I get off track with training, it's still worth it to go for a jog around the block, even just to get some fresh air. And if I haven't been training, it's still worth entering races, because, so far, even races I haven't trained for have been good. And they give me a tangible goal to work towards.
Not just in a physical sense, but also in maintaining any kind of descipline, baby steps are never wasted. It's taken me ages to learn that lesson, because I'm stubborn and tend to want to chuck any progress I've made out the window as soon as it starts to go sideways. Hopefully I'm starting to see the error of my ways in always thinking of things in black or white, either-or, and am slowly coming to a more mature understanding of balance in all things.
So I haven't been running in more than a week, and I sure don't feel like it today, but I'm going to go anyway because I'll be happy I did when it's done. And then I can put another red dot on the calendar for today to mark my effort.
Friday, October 22, 2010
#90 - Casting off
There is now another woolen scarf in the world, and this one was made by my own hands. This was me for the past 10 months:
(Sometimes the smile was real, sometimes it was fake.)
I now know how to do plain and purl, cast on, cast off, and the rib stitch. My mom has a big basket of wool from the '80s and a stack of knitting needles tucked away in some cupboard somewhere which she's now given me to play with. I may try another scarf sometime just because I've gotten so used to having this project to pick up whenever I'm watching a movie or have nothing else going on. Sitting and knitting is always a good combination. Last night I finished the scarf during an epic marathon of the first season of Vampire Diaries here in Bashaw, Alberta. Why? Too long to explain.
The new scarf now belongs to Cornelia, who evidently enjoys wearing it with plaid. It's cold here in Alberta, so it seems to make sense.
What a great scarf model.
(Sometimes the smile was real, sometimes it was fake.)
I now know how to do plain and purl, cast on, cast off, and the rib stitch. My mom has a big basket of wool from the '80s and a stack of knitting needles tucked away in some cupboard somewhere which she's now given me to play with. I may try another scarf sometime just because I've gotten so used to having this project to pick up whenever I'm watching a movie or have nothing else going on. Sitting and knitting is always a good combination. Last night I finished the scarf during an epic marathon of the first season of Vampire Diaries here in Bashaw, Alberta. Why? Too long to explain.
The new scarf now belongs to Cornelia, who evidently enjoys wearing it with plaid. It's cold here in Alberta, so it seems to make sense.
I can't remember why I wanted to learn to knit, to be honest. I don't think I ever had any intentions of learning to make my own clothes or anything. At least I've crossed another item off my list. Ten down, 90 to go.
Posts related to knitting:
(Dec. 28, 2009)
(Jan. 31, 2010)
(March 6, 2010)
(June 1, 2010)
(Sept. 16, 2010)
(Sept. 29, 2010)
(Oct. 15, 2010)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
5 km PR - 26:49
On Saturday I did the Abbotsford Run For Justice 5 km and got another personal record.
Wasn't going to do any more 5 km races, but this one had three things going for it:
1. location - start line was a three minute drive from my place
2. start time - 10 a.m. allows for a bacon 'n egg breaky with coffee without having to get up at the crack of morning
3. justice - no idea about the specifics but who wouldn't want to support something like that?
I've discovered a formula for running a good race:
Do the first half slower than you think you should,
so you can do the second half faster than you thought you could.
This actually works. And it sounds good.
Wasn't going to do any more 5 km races, but this one had three things going for it:
1. location - start line was a three minute drive from my place
2. start time - 10 a.m. allows for a bacon 'n egg breaky with coffee without having to get up at the crack of morning
3. justice - no idea about the specifics but who wouldn't want to support something like that?
I've discovered a formula for running a good race:
Do the first half slower than you think you should,
so you can do the second half faster than you thought you could.
This actually works. And it sounds good.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Knitting breakthrough
I found this website threadbanger.com that has a show called Threadheads, which has videos on its blog about how to knit that are really basic.
I'm almost finished the "world's ugliest scarf" -- according to some. I don't think it's THE ugliest scarf. Maybe in the top 10, but it's a nice colour, so that's something. It started off well, a nice rib stitch, but then devolved into a too-wide part where I screwed something up. Then it got too thin (something about tension) and then too wide again. Anyway, I managed to figure out what I was doing wrong with the rib stitch (you need to start with the same type of stitch every time you start a new row, not alternate types) and now it's looking okay near the end. I should be done within a day or two.
As frustrating as it can be (and as itchy as wool is so who's going to wear this thing?), I enjoyed working on it last night for the first time. It was strangely mesmerizing. I may (MAY) even be tempted to try another one. But the next one will be with size 11 knitting needles, not size 7, which are way too finicky.
I'm almost finished the "world's ugliest scarf" -- according to some. I don't think it's THE ugliest scarf. Maybe in the top 10, but it's a nice colour, so that's something. It started off well, a nice rib stitch, but then devolved into a too-wide part where I screwed something up. Then it got too thin (something about tension) and then too wide again. Anyway, I managed to figure out what I was doing wrong with the rib stitch (you need to start with the same type of stitch every time you start a new row, not alternate types) and now it's looking okay near the end. I should be done within a day or two.
As frustrating as it can be (and as itchy as wool is so who's going to wear this thing?), I enjoyed working on it last night for the first time. It was strangely mesmerizing. I may (MAY) even be tempted to try another one. But the next one will be with size 11 knitting needles, not size 7, which are way too finicky.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Better than booze
I've come to the conlusion that running is like drinking. The experience starts off the same way: "Wow, this feels great. Why don't I do this more often?" Getting to the bottom of a bottle of Keith's makes me feel warm and fuzzy and makes all my troubles go away. Similarly, after the first 15 minutes of a nice jog through the forest on a crisp autumn day, I feel at ease and pretty pleased about my existence.
It's strange how both alcohol and exercise can bring about a kind of euphoria and a weird sense they both should be pursued on a more regular basis. But that's where the similarities end. Unlike a good run, pushing myself and then feeling full of life and possibilities afterwards as I stretch, the final result of downing more than two drinks (yes, I'm a lightweight) is more likely to make me want to wretch. Not fun. Doesn't make me feel better about myself. Sometimes even one glass of red wine is enough to make my pillow feel like a vice the next morning. Who doesn't want to erase the past 12 hours and do away with the pain? And who has ever regretted lacing up and going for a short lope around the neighbourhood? No one's ever woken up after jogging, stumbled over to the mirror to wince at his or her pasty, gaunt face and said, "Oh, man, that was stupid." It doesn't happen. It's not easy to push your workout too far. You can't black out and slide down the slippery slope of losing count while binging on the perfect poison of lactic acid. No one's ever heard a runner on the phone at work, holding her head in her hand, saying, "Damn, I should have just stopped after that eighth lap. I can't believe I did another four. I just couldn't help myself." Injuries aside, there's never a reason to not run as much as you want. There's never enough muscle pain to equal a bad hangover.
Of course beer is lovely and I'm not going to give up alcohol and start running twice a day. But it's funny (and maybe frustrating) that the things that really are a challenge, that don't feel easy and good all the way through, end up making us feel great when they're done. Nothing worth doing is easy. Anything worth doing is hard. Tension and balance and all that.
It's strange how both alcohol and exercise can bring about a kind of euphoria and a weird sense they both should be pursued on a more regular basis. But that's where the similarities end. Unlike a good run, pushing myself and then feeling full of life and possibilities afterwards as I stretch, the final result of downing more than two drinks (yes, I'm a lightweight) is more likely to make me want to wretch. Not fun. Doesn't make me feel better about myself. Sometimes even one glass of red wine is enough to make my pillow feel like a vice the next morning. Who doesn't want to erase the past 12 hours and do away with the pain? And who has ever regretted lacing up and going for a short lope around the neighbourhood? No one's ever woken up after jogging, stumbled over to the mirror to wince at his or her pasty, gaunt face and said, "Oh, man, that was stupid." It doesn't happen. It's not easy to push your workout too far. You can't black out and slide down the slippery slope of losing count while binging on the perfect poison of lactic acid. No one's ever heard a runner on the phone at work, holding her head in her hand, saying, "Damn, I should have just stopped after that eighth lap. I can't believe I did another four. I just couldn't help myself." Injuries aside, there's never a reason to not run as much as you want. There's never enough muscle pain to equal a bad hangover.
Of course beer is lovely and I'm not going to give up alcohol and start running twice a day. But it's funny (and maybe frustrating) that the things that really are a challenge, that don't feel easy and good all the way through, end up making us feel great when they're done. Nothing worth doing is easy. Anything worth doing is hard. Tension and balance and all that.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Bitch 'n stitch
Being about halfway through the dreaded knitting project (a simple scarf), I feel I should just motor on regardless of the loops and holes and weird variations in thickness I can't explain. So I brought my work to my mom to ask for some advice yesterday and she showed me what I was doing wrong with the purl stitch. She watched me try another row and I was complaining how difficult it was and she thought this was funny because for her knitting (and all other sartorial exercises) is just something she used to do while watching TV before Julia Roberts made it cool. Actually, when she saw me struggling to figure out why I couldn't pull the wool below the needle but had to pull it over the top when I started a new row, she was belly laughing. When I reached the peak of frustration before handing it back to her to sort out, exclaiming "Son of a bitch," that was it. She was just about falling over with tears of jocundity streaming down her face. (You'd have to see my mother laughing to understand just how intense it is. Is she sobbing? No wait, she's laughing. Ha ha. Ha.) At least she told me it made her day to have such a good guffaw. I guess that's a sort of consolation to my lack of knitting skillz. To top it off, I went to a friend's in Vancouver for dinner tonight and she had her knitting project strewn casually on the couch ("Oh, yeah, I just started last week. Isn't it fun?") as a side project to organic gardening and practicing law. Why are the little things in my life so HUGE? I can't even get through a scarf. It takes intense concentration. PLUS, it's not fun. Not really at all. Sitting in bed working through five rows of rib stitch, counting in twos to make sure I don't screw up the order makes me feel like I'm working in a sweat shop. And it's itchy and makes me too hot. That's why I took a knitting hiatus over the summer. But I'm back at it, and I'm going to finish the damn thing by Christmas if it kills me.
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