Dogs- Furry People. Except When They’re Not.

I love dogs. I really do. But let’s be clear about something. Despite all of our attempts to anthropomorphize them by dressing them up, leaving them our estates or applying our emotions to their facial expressions, they are still just dogs, not furry humans. Let me elaborate.

They Smell. And they have no intention of bathing in anything other than dead worms and bird poop. Even their feet smell like corn chips.

Frito Feet

They Smell Part 2: Dog breath. The breath of my dog could melt the skin off your face like Nazis opening the Ark of the Covenant. Seriously not exaggerating.

Cat Poop. Dogs love cat poop. I was discussing this phenomenon with my friend, who started laughing and said, “I don’t think my dog ever ate cat shit,” to which I replied, “That’s because you don’t own a cat. If you had a cat, your dog would eat cat shit.”

More Poop. If you are lucky enough to have a dog that poops outside and not on your plush white carpet, say a little prayer of thanks. And then add a 2nd prayer that while you are gone working all day trying to earn enough money to buy the trendy gourmet dog food recommended by groomers, vets, the mailman, strangers on the corner (but not your dog because he prefers to eat cat poop), you don’t get a call from your 10-year-old son telling you the dog had a “poop explosion” all over the living room.

And More Poop. On those days your dog actually poops outside, break out the shovel or the plastic grocery bag for poop pick up doody…I mean duty. Especially important if your dog chooses to use your neighbor’s yard instead of his own. Neighbors are notorious for not appreciating your dog’s outdoor poop experience as much as you do.

Poop Side Note: Seriously, do not skimp on the quality of your dog poop bags. Make sure you pick one that won’t magically untie or disintegrate or good Lord spring a hole should you accidentally wash a bag of dog poop that you forget in your pocket. Please do not ask how I know this.

Yes, There Is Even More Poop. My dogs have long hair and often get poop dingle berries. Do they care? They do not. They strut around my house with their little poopy prizes and sit their dingle-berry laden butt stars on my carpet, furniture, and bed. HOW IS THIS EVEN HAPPENING?

The Final Poop. Next time you take your dog for a walk, observe how many times he sticks his nose in a pile of poop. In all likelihood, it’s EVERY SINGLE ONE YOU PASS. Humans, on the other hand, will go to freakishly extreme measures not to smell another human’s poop by lighting candles, running fans, spraying disinfectant…hell, someone even invented Poo Pourii, which you spray in your toilet BEFORE YOU EVEN POOP! We now have PRE POOPING COVERAGE.

It’s a real product. Seriously.

Eating Gross Stuff.  If all the poop weren’t bad enough, I have also seen dogs willingly eat barf, dead animals, bird poop, rabbit poop, the crotches out of dirty underwear, smelly socks, deer legs, grass, bugs, dirt, dead worms, nylons, razors, garbage, rotten meat, and bully sticks which are actually dried bull penis’. Oh yeah, and they lick their own butts. I’m sorry, but if your significant other just licked their own butts, would you let them kiss you?  But I bet you let your dog lick you in the face. Yeah. Think about that for a minute.

So you thought about all of this and I know you are wondering why in God’s green earth do you own a dog. A smelly, cat poop eating, bird poop rolling, furry pile of e-coli just waiting to slobber on your new white pants or barf up your underwear in front of company. Well, I’m here to answer that, too.

Heart. A dog’s heart far exceeds his brain size and the good sense God gave him, and he will do just about anything to be with you.  Run when he is tired, sleep when he isn’t, take the blame for your farts, wait all day in the hot sun or the freezing cold, drag your sorry ass out of a fire, find the bad guys, take a bullet for you, retrieve your ducks, sniff out bombs, kill rats, bark a life saving warning, herd your sheep (and your children), carry medical supplies, rescue people from avalanches, crushed buildings, mud slides…

I have known smart dogs, brave dogs, funny dogs, sedate dogs, hyper dogs, loud dogs, shedding dogs, annoying dogs, jumping dogs, licking dogs, cuddling dogs, tough dogs, cranky dogs, bouncy dogs, submissive dogs…and I have loved every one.

I love their goofy, tongue flopping smiles, their rotund bellies in constant need of scratching, and their swirling, whacking, wiggling, twirling tails.  They are the joy in a sucky day, a warm snuggle under quilted covers, a rowdy party of beer swilling frat brothers who chase rubber balls instead of girls, and oh how incomplete my life would be if I didn’t have at least one glorious, smelly, hairy, noble dog in it.

And that’s pretty much it.  Dogs really aren’t like humans at all.  They are “just dogs”.  And Thank You, God, for that.

Riding the Door, Less is More

As I sit down to type this, the air outside is a brisk 53 degrees, and it will be in the low forties by the time I walk out the door for work tomorrow.  Cooler air and shorter days herald the coming of fall, and I am feeling kinda bummed that I don’t have many more days of cycling left.  In fact, I had my last major bike event a couple of weeks ago riding in the  Door County Century.

Door County Century. First rest stop at Murphy Park. Gorgeous morning! Couldn’t ask for better weather.

The Door County Century celebrated its 35th anniversary this year, and is one of the most popular century rides in Wisconsin.  For good reason – they are well-organized, the routes wind thru some of the most beautiful countryside in Northeast Wisconsin, and the rest stops are well stocked with yummy delicious go-go fuel.  And you know me – it’s all about the food.

Cookies…

and muffins….

and bagels…oh my!

Gotta throw in a little health food. This fruit was amazing.

For those of you who are not crazy cyclists, a century is a 100 mile bike ride.  Most organized centuries are recreational and offer shorter routes in addition to the full 100 mile route.  This year, the DCC also had options of 28, 50, and 70.  Last year Kay and I did the full century.  It was really a lot of fun, but it was also very hilly and the final 30 miles were pretty tough.  “Pretty tough” meaning we were DYING and every time we saw another hill coming up we thought we were going to have a nervous breakdown.

Neither one of us felt like we had ridden enough this year to tackle those upper peninsula miles where the highest elevations await the unwary, so we opted for 70 this year.  Yes, we wimped out.  Totally.  But we are all good with that, because 70 was the Golden Ticket.

First of all, look at this map.  Check out those elevations between the yellow stars on the elevation map (in the boxed in area of the physical map) – all residing in the 100 mile route.  That’s a whole lotta pain right there.  A Polygon of Pain.

Whereas the 70 mile route is all rainbows and unicorns, pretzels and cheese, donuts and muffins, pickles and cheesecurds…   The only thing we had to give up was strawberry shortcake at the Sister Bay rest stop.  That was almost a deal breaker until we realized we would actually finish this year before the beer ran out.  Although ironically, we didn’t even use our beer tickets, because we knew we had to drive home yet.  See?  I, too, can be a responsible adult.

Cave Point Door County Century

I think my favorite part of this years ride was the Cave Point rest stop.  The sky was the bluest of blues and the grass was the greenest of greens.  Warm sun, a light breeze, the waves crashing below on the rocks, ham sandwiches…did I mention that I ride for food?  Kay and I stretched out in the sun for a while, but we were starting to feel a little nappish so figured we better get going.  It was truly hard to leave.

Now THAT’S a blue sky!

Moi’, enjoying a delicious ham sandwich.

The next 15 miles roll thru lush forest and farm land, with enough variety to help wear off that ham sandwich and granola bar you just ate.  You can keep a fairly decent pace here, but oddly there is a rest stop only 6 miles from the finish.  You may be tempted to pass this one by, but you will miss cheesecurds and pickles if you do.  Oh yeah, there’s some lighthouse or something that’s supposed to have historical value or whatever.  Blah, blah, blah.  I never made it past the curd table.  And I know some of you are wondering about the pickles.  Like, why are there pickles at a rest stop, which is kind of what I thought too, but man – when your body is sodium deprived – that will be the best pickle you have ever eaten.

Our ponies!

All the riders in the saloon, eating their cherry pie!

Wether you ride the 100, 70 or 50, the last 5 miles of this ride last an eternity, and you will really appreciate those cheese curds and pickles from that last stop.  It doesn’t help that there is one last beastly hill in the home stretch.  Seriously, who plans a route where they stick a giant hill in the last mile?  Kinda makes you want to smack someone with your water bottle, but then your turning the corner into the fair grounds and you can hear the music and smell the garlic bread, and you know there is a piece of Door County cherry pie with your name on it.  And beer.  Which you may or may not drink, depending on your responsibility ratio.  I know, you can’t all be me – such perfection is truly hard to maintain.  I struggle but I do it for you little people.

All kidding aside: If you enjoy organized rides, put the Door County Century on your bucket list.  It’s offering of beauty, challenge, camaraderie, and of course great food, make this ride worth your time and cash.  Hope to see you there next year!

Joy

Tonight I sit at my computer, enjoying the final hours of a sunny day, sleepy and sunburned.  I started my day with church in my bike clothes, leaving right after to meet up with Kay for our first ‘real’ bike outing of the year.  We had taken a couple of chilly rides in the earlier weeks of April, but rides with booties, hats and gloves just aren’t the same.  Today, we finally had seventies, short sleeves,  and sun.  As we rode out Willow Road, a single word sang in my head – finally, after a long winter – JOY.

Joy is elusive, isn’t it?  It’s hard finding it at times.  I know the technical ‘rule’ about joy – that you can’t tie it to your feelings, that it needs to be a state of being.  However, practicing joy and achieving joy are not always inclusive and doggone it, sometimes you need a day in the sun.

BOOYAH!

Our first jaunt was not remarkable from a distance standpoint – just 20 miles – but we

Kay, Adrian and me, at the Eaton Town Hall. Handsome old guy with two hot chicks. And look, we match!

stopped off at Eaton Town Hall for a bowl of booyah to support the Old Glory Honor Flight, and met a Korean war veteran who was able to participate this year.  His name is Adrian Cherney, and he also used to bike, so we had a lot to talk about.  He only just quit riding last year – I think he is around 85 so that is a lot of years of riding.  The booyah was awesome and my only regret is not being able to buy any to bring home.  Kay and I decided we should make a habit of planning our weekend rides around local booyah picnics.  I may need to have Dave build me a booyah wagon so I can haul ice cream tubs of it home.

It’s an aerator folks! Pay no attention to the aliens!

On the way out, we stopped at Lily Lake just to be nosy and to add a few extra miles to our ride.  There we found this thing (see pic) – no clue what it was at the time so Kay snapped a picture of it to show her hubby, and we have since found out it is an aerator.  As I told Kay, it’s good to know what it is, because you never know when that information might come in handy, and someone may say to you, “What is that thing?  Is that an alien ship crash landed in Lily Lake?” and you can say, “Why no, that is an aerator!”.  Mystery solved!  No need to hide the women and children!

After I got home, I spent more time in the sun playing with the dogs, weeding my flower beds and other such nonsense.  It was a glorious cherry on top of a chocolate sundae weekend.

A few other weekend highlights:  Hanging out with Dawn on Saturday and getting some time to visit that didn’t involve work or working out, and roller skating at St. Mary’s Roller Rink for the first time since I was probably 13 years old on Saturday night, courtesy of my friend Amanda and her children’s 9th birthday (Happy Birthday Evan and Abby!).  I also upgraded my blog site so I can now upload VIDEOS!  See below for actual footage of my roller skating experience (notice I remained upright during the entire 20 seconds).

Have a great week!

Sue

 

Beauty of a Woman Blogfest: Skin Deep

A couple of days ago, I let you all know I would be participating in the Beauty of a Woman Blogfest, sponsored by August McLaughlin, and inspired by the Sam Levinson poem (click the link to go to her site and check out all the entries, which will be posted Friday.  I promise it will totally be worth your reading time).  Here is mine:

Most of you have heard the term, “Beauty is only skin deep”.  Probably someone used this statement to console you at one point or other in your life, when you felt intimidated or inferior to someone who used their physical beauty to belittle you.  At the very least, you heard it in passing.  But is it?  Is beauty only skin deep?

Like many women, I have struggled with body image since I was a little girl, and first heard someone tell me I was fat.  I have dieted, exercised, cried, lamented, criticized, rationalized, judged, and binged my way thru the last 45 years.  I once described myself as a “Big, Beautiful Dutch Woman”, as a tongue in cheek way of trying to accept myself for who I was.  It was mostly a bravado filled, fake it till you make it statement.  But I think I am finally ready to own it.

And it’s about time, I guess.  I am one year away from my 50th birthday, and I don’t think I want to waste any more of my precious time or energy worrying about measuring up to someone else’s idea of beauty.  I have better things to do, and frankly Society, I just don’t give a damn anymore.

I’m tired of worrying if someone will notice my size 11 feet, my man hands, or my jiggly belly.  Tired of wondering if someone disapproves of my loud laugh or inappropriately placed comment.  Tired of feeling exposed and vulnerable just because I am a size 16 and not a 10.

At the top of my blog, I reference a scripture about our bodies being the temple of the Holy Spirit.  I originally chose that as a way to remind myself to feed my body and spirit with healthy things, to keep it prepared to be God’s servant.  But now – now I see it as the defining start to beauty.  It begins with God’s accepting and loving Spirit entwined with mine.    Fearfully and wonderfully made.  Oh hell yes.  Because He is the Author of this piece of work I have held in judgement and loathing for so long, and He sees His creation as beautiful.  Who am I to argue?

So I will embrace the goofy German woman – unconventional and glorious – who hams it up for the camera, loves the spotlight and relishes the laughter from her audience.  Who giggles at off-color jokes and makes funny faces.  Who sings “Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz” loud and joyously in the bathroom and whistles her way thru life.

Weirdo Fun

But I will also embrace and accept the judgmental side of this woman, who can be quick to criticize and use shame as misguided motivation, and I won’t beat myself up anymore for having these traits.  I will continue to ask God to help me channel them into constructive behaviors, to use them to problem solve and organize, love and accept.  To use them to fuel my determination and spirit, to reach my goals and God’s.

I will embrace the Belgian woman, who loves puns and word play, and really, really dumb jokes.  Who loves a good fluffy book and a bag of chips with her butt plopped on a sandy beach and nothing but blue sky above.  Who is nurturing and gentle, kind and encouraging.  Who comes thru the door at the end of the day, and can’t wait to see her family.

But I will also embrace and accept the lost, passive side of this woman, who can spend too much time as a wallflower and go unnoticed in a crowded room.  Who is uncomfortable with people she thinks may be above her and not assertive enough to claim what is hers.  I will ask God to give me strength to believe in myself, to step forward and accept a compliment, and to recognize my worth in any situation, among any group of people.

And finally.  The big, beautiful Dutch woman.  I will embrace this woman most of all, as she is the one I have had the biggest love/hate relationship with.  Her big hands, breasts and feet have been the prime source of contention and ridicule in my life.  She is the one I see in the mirror when I get out of the shower, that I cover as much as possible to avoid having her be seen.  She is the one I have been ashamed of.

But this woman is also the one who has brought me the greatest joys.  She gave me the strong legs that pedaled 100 miles and ran 13.2…twice!  The strong arms that carried my babies and helped my husband with chores.  A body that at 49 can keep up with the 20 year olds in the gym (well, maybe the 30 year olds).  A body that nurtured, grew, and birthed the two greatest gifts God has ever given me – my kids.

Me and my “babies”

She has cellulite and scars.  Saggy skin (not to mention the direction the ‘girls’ are headed) and stretch marks.  Age spots, moles and wrinkles.  Bunions and cracking knees.  Her feet hurt, she can’t remember where she put her car keys much less the name of the person she just met, and she has some old-fashioned values her kids don’t always appreciate.  But she is beautiful and lovely and gets up every single day and does what I ask her to.  So, from this day forward, I will love, accept and cherish every single square inch of her.

Several years ago, I started trying to see other people – family, friends, enemies and strangers – as God saw them.  I tried to picture them thru His eyes, and it truly has helped me grow as a person, to be more loving and accepting of others, to be kinder and more forgiving.  But I left someone out of that equation.  Me.  Today I will begin a new journey, of remembering to see myself as God sees me – fearfully and wonderfully made, a home to His Spirit.  I will truly believe I am His temple, that my beauty starts in my core where His Spirit resides and engulfs mine, bubbling joyously to the surface.

Beauty is not skin deep.  It is Spirit deep.

Blessings,

Sue

The beginning – my parents wedding – German on the right, Belgian and Dutch on the left.