Where Does the Time Go?

Good grief! Where in the world does the time go? The past week has been a bit busy as I started a new job (woo hoo!) and getting ready for Christmas.

The new job looks as if it will work out, which is a good thing! Being unemployed is for the birds, not me. I was out of work for nearly 4 months and it feels good to be back in the groove. I'm sure that once I get back into the swing of working, the hours won't seem nearly as short as they seem to be right now.

Right not, it's good to be the Queen!

Pax River

One nice thing about sailing is you learn how to relax, how to slow down and take life as it comes. As a society, we have forgotten how to slow down, how to relax, and how to take life on its terms. When sailing, you take the good times and the bad as they are thrown at you. You either survive or you go down.

After hoisting anchor at the Rhode River, Tyche and I headed south. It was a slow go as the wind had changed and we no longer had a beam reach. Progress in a sailboat is slow when the wind is on your stern. The Rhode River is about 65-70 miles (as the crow flies) from the Potomac River. With the wind behind us, we were making about 5-6 knots (6-7 mph) meaning a 10-11 hour sail. We could only hope for better winds.

We moseyed along, slowly but surely heading south. As Tyche & I passed the Pax (Patuxtent) River, 50 miles south, I briefly thought about pulling in there for the night. Then, I remembered that the Pax's boat basin has an iffy bottom for holding an anchor fast.

The year before my journey, a friend (Jim) and I anchored there. Jim had the aft port quarter berth & I took the forward V-berth. Late that night, a storm blew in and through the anchorage. Awaking with a start, I sprinted through the boat barefooted in my nightshirt, hollerin' as I went through, "WE'RE DRAGGING ANCHOR!!!!" I hit the wet fiberglass deck, slipping and sliding my way to the bow where I desperately fed out more & more rode, begging the anchor to grab. **Grab! Dammit! GRAB!** All this time, we're heading stern first towards a multi-million dollar yacht! EEK!

Finally, I felt the anchor bite into the bottom and snubbed the line on the cleat. Tyche fetched up and her stern slid into an open spot on the quay wall, missing the yacht by a mere 12 inches. Way too close for comfort. We spent the night tied to the quay wall. That was when the Pax boat basin in Solomons became one of my least favorite places to anchor.

Days Like Today...

It is on days like today, cold, wet, and dreary, with a weather forecast for more snow, up to 12" more, that I want to be someplace sunny, warm and tropical, preferably on my former sailboat, Tyche. It is on days like today, I dream about sailing in tropical places, sans dogs, places like Bora Bora, St. John's, Exuma Cay, Belize.... I long to feel the motion of a sailboat beneath my feet, to see the deep blue of open water, to feel the gentle lap of water against the hull at anchor...

I lived aboard and sailed the good boat, Tyche, for five years. She & I went to many ports of call, a few in exotic places. One year, Tyche & I went down the Intercoastal Waterway and headed east out of Lauderdale towards the Bahamas. That was an interesting trip!

We (Tyche & I) left the Baltimore Yacht Basin in October and headed south down the Chesapeake Bay. We had a good wind and our first port of call that day was in the hurricane hole on the Rhode River, which is south of Annapolis and north of Shady Side.

This is one of my favorite anchorages. At my last visit, there were three islands and I normally dropped anchor behind & south of them, using Big Island as my guide. Most of the shoreline is owned by the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. However, to the north on the peninsula and well hidden in the woods, is Camp Letts. At dusk during the summer months, I'd be sitting in the cockpit with a drink in hand and I'd hear the sweet, mournful sounds of taps gently wafting over the air.

The mornings in the anchorage are special. Again, I'd be sitting in the dew covered cockpit with a steaming cup of coffee and I'd watch the dawn break. In the grey, predawn hours, life would begin to stir all around you. A cabin light would turn on and twinkle on a neighboring boat; a heron would be fishing for his breakfast along the reed lined shore. It was quiet, but you could hear the sounds of life. It was a reaffirmation of life. All too soon, people would be up & about and it would be time to hoist anchor and be on my way.

It's too quiet....

Ever since Thanksgiving, it has been too quiet in the house. It has never been this quiet, at least, not since 1997. How can a house with 7 hounds in it be so quiet?

In 1997, we got our first greyhound puppies, Spoof & BJ. The two of them were referred to as the "dynamic duo", "the Brothers Grimm", and a host of other names. "The Boys" were very different in personality. Spoof was a goof and he'd go with the flow, while BJ was determined and he never quit anything. Spoof was a white & red brindle particolor and BJ was a deep red brindle, the color of a brand new copper penny!

We lost Spoof to skin cancer in March 2008. He was diagnosed with the cancer several years back. When tumors would pop up, we'd have them removed. Well, in October 2007, Spoof developed a tumor on his stifle. We had it removed and it came back. Again it was removed & it came back. It was a very aggressive, local tumor. No matter how many times we had it removed, it came back. That tumor proved to be his end as we could no longer remove the tumor and close up the wound. We tried and tried... Nothing worked and we lost our much loved Spoof the Goof. We never expected to lose Spoof before BJ.

BJ was my "Six Million Dollar" dog. Not unlike the TV character, the "Six Million Dollar Man", BJ had been rebuilt several times. When he was about 16 weeks old, he had broken his femur in the stifle. He & a littermate, Flight, had an accident and Flight came out of it with a twisted pelvis and BJ a broken leg. He had two surgeries on that leg before he was a year old. There were concerns that he'd not finish his championship and that he would never course. Well, BJ proved them wrong on all accounts. He not only earned his breed ring title, he earned two field championships.

BJ was my boy. If I went upstairs, he followed. If I went to the kitchen, he followed. If I slept on the sofa, he got up there and slept with me. I made the statement some time ago that my long departed Jato held my heart, but BJ owned it. The ties between he & I can never be torn asunder not even by death. It is with great sorrow that I lost BJ last Wednesday. Even though his spirit was willing, his body gave out. On Tuesday, he could stand and totter about. On Wednesday, he could not support himself with his rear. He could not stand to go to the bathroom. He could not stand to eat. He could not stand. With great sadness, BJ & I took his last car ride.

Now... the house is too quiet. I no longer hear BJ's deep bark. I no longer hear either of "my boys." I wonder, if I'll survive.

For Your Entertainment - Who Wants a Used, Slightly Dusty Greyhound Puppy?

The event I’m about to describe happened about three months ago, before I had a blog to record it. I was reminded of it last night, and thought that it might be of equal amusement value to both jewelers and dog owners who read my blog. The text is taken from an e-mail I received from the puppy's owner, a jeweler. She sent it to a few friends and me, the puppy's breeder, immediately after the incident occurred, thus the present tense writing.

Before I continue, let me introduce the main character: “Jack”, aka “DM Union Jack”, born June 14, 2007. You can, if you’re interested, read more about Jack on his web page. Jack is Kathy's current show dog, and the younger of the two greyhounds who grace her residence. Um, wait. Maybe “grace” isn’t quite the right word… read on.

(September 25, 2008)

Jewelers talcum powder is unscented powdered talc, normally used for separating rubber mold halves and for freeing waxes from the molds. It’s quite difficult to find in stores, and when I do find it, it’s in tiny quantities and frighteningly expensive. It’s much cheaper to buy it in bulk. It comes in five pound bags, sold by some jewelry making supply companies. It’s very useful stuff–when you need it, nothing else will do. However, jewelers talcum powder was never intended to be used for decorating purposes…

The box containing my recent supply order was on a chair in our living room because my shop is currently full of casting projects in progress (24 freshly invested flasks waiting to be burned out). I can’t get to the shelves behind them to put anything away just now. I had to leave for a bit this morning to run some errands. I was gone for one hour, and returned to this.

One fifteen-month-old greyhound puppy who shall not remain nameless is in deeeeeeep doo-doo. He chewed open the big outer box, then removed and opened several of the smaller inner boxes, including the one containing the powder. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get talcum powder out of the cracks in hardwood floors?

Do you have any idea how far five POUNDS of talcum powder can spread when the bag is ripped open and shaken?

Thank your deity of choice that my husband’s laptop didn’t end up full of powder. It was sitting on a rolling table next to the couch (the powder covered base of the table can be seen at the upper right of picture #2). The laptop only got a light dusting that blew off with canned air. You can see from the photos that Jack and his uncle Slate have plenty of dog toys…I guess those weren’t enough. Sigh.

Along with the powder trick, Jack also ate the handle of a chasing hammer, tried to eat a roll of bronze wire, chewed up a bag of hand lotion samples which were not in the box (on top of the powder on the dog bed…yuck!) and opened the box containing a graphite crucible for my Electromelt (the expensive machine that melts silver for casting), dumping the crucible on the floor. Fortunately the $20 crucible was not broken.

Jack puppy had only recently (as of last month) earned the right to be left uncrated while we were gone. He was doing pretty well until today. This little prank has just earned him the right to be crated until he turns 50…

And if you’re wondering why there are no pictures of a powder-coated greyhound? The brat managed to do all this without getting any powder on himself, other than his toes which are already white! He met me at the back door when I returned, and the only clue I had to what awaited me in the living room was white paw prints on the dining room floor.

Three months later, we still see daily reminders of this incident. Some of the living room floor is gray where the powder sifted into the woodgrain where the finish was worn. Outside, the concrete driveway and the red brick side of the house are coated with white powder where I shook out the dog bed over a trash can. Taking a bag of garbage outside last night and seeing the bright white patch of concrete glowing in the light of the full moon is what reminded me to blog this.

Jack is still alive and as cute as ever. But he’s become an incurable box opener. Every time a package arrives here, I have to hide it or he’s after it within minutes. When he opened the powder, he had to have gotten some up his long, pointy nose. Talcum powder must be addictive…

The morning after...

I went hunting yesterday with one of the pups, Banner. This was his 2nd judged hunt. As in his first one, he finished in a tie for second with another greyhound and a galgo. Not bad for an 18 month old puppy. In his first judged hunt, in November, the winner was a galgo named Camille. Yesterday, the winning galgo was Camille's neice, Maya. Nothing like keeping it in the family!

Yesterday was a glorious day! The day dawned clear & bright with cool temps. As the day progressed, the wind piped up, but the day stayed bright & clear. The mountains on the horizon were vivid against a cerulean sky. The dried grasses were golden in the long rays of the early morning and, later, late evening sun. There was harmony in my heart as I began my drive to the field at 4:30 am and I saw the moon setting and then driving home at 7pm and I saw the moon rise. That is balance.

Today, however, I'm feeling battered & bruised and also very thankful for extra strength Tylenol. However, I'm very content that yesterday was spent in pursuit of game, even if my gamebag stayed empty. Hunting is more than killing animals. Hunting is an experience. It is being out in the fresh air & the elements; being out with your hunting dog; and, in some cases, sharing that experience with friends.

I wish them well today out on the plains, especially when the forecast is calling for high winds & possibly snow. They are better men than I.

More on Baltimore & Eminent Domain

Baltimore is or was a neat place for me. Our family home was on the east side in what is now the very trendy Canton. At that time, back in the 50's & 60's, Canton had train tracks running down the middle of Boston Street. Many times, we'd be driving down Boston on one side or t'other of a train. The train cars held a variety of stuff but, primarily, they were either coal hoppers or iron ore hoppers, and they were usually headed east bound, towards the Point.

Mom told me various stories about the trains. One was about how she & her siblings used to steal coal off the cars and pick up coal that had been dropped into the street. Grandma Struhar told them to only bring home "blue coal" (anthracite) as it burned hotter & longer. If they brought hom anything else, they were usually swatted across the bum. Soft coal burned dirty and grandma already had her hands full with 12 kids occupying the house! BTW, this story has been verified by a couple of my aunts & uncles at various times.

The old homestead was located in the 1200 block of Decker Ave. Back in the 1960's, we lost our home to the City of Baltimore through "eminent domain". The mayor was Thomas D'Alesandro, father of Nancy Pelosi. He condemned many houses on the premise of putting an interstate through Canton & parts of Highlandtown. The interstate never materialized and the city sold all those properties at many hundreds of thousands of dollars profit. On the site of lost family homes, condos and nursing homes were built. Industry had to relocate as those buildings were also condemned, but never torn down. Now, those building are home to condos such as: The Anchorage, Condeco Wharf, etc. In my little pea brain, governments utilizing eminent domain, the taking of privately owned property supposedly for the greater good, are doing nothing but abusing their power. It is nothing more than legalized thievery. It destroys lives, ruins businesses, and harms families. Many of the people, who at one time had a home, wound up living in public housing because they could not afford to purchase another home. The businesses which were displaced left and never returned. People lost jobs. Families broke up. Why? So the city could sell that acreage to developers, who build condos & shopping areas. Where is the public good? Anyway, in case you cannot tell, I'm not for eminent domain. Eminent domain is wrong when good people are hurt by it.

More to come...

Where Do I Begin?

Where do I begin? To tell the story of how great.... Oops... this is a blog, not a song fest! Still, the question remains, where do I begin this blog? How about a little bit about me?


I grew up the youngest in the family. Not too hard to do when you only have one sibling, an elder brother. My brother's name is Joe and he is about 12 years my senior. I guess you could say I was a "whoops".


My hometown is Baltimore, Maryland. Yep... I'm a misplaced Baltimorean. I grew up listening to Chuck Thompson call the Orioles' games ("Go to war, Miss Agnes!") and the records spun by the DJ, Johnny Dark, on "radio six-oh, WCAO". It's nice to know that Johnny Dark is still transmitting songs. Now, however, as of last year, he was on "The Hop" on WorldSpace Satellite Radio. He was way cool in the 60's.


Summer nights were spent hanging out at the park with friends and a transistor radio, listening to music, looking for shooting stars, chatting, and just being with people we liked. The days were long & lazy and we spent them fishing & crabbing. Sometimes, we cook our catch right there on the shore of the creek.


There were no malls and we shopped "downtown" at Hutzlers, Hoschild Kohns, Stewarts and Hechts. Hoschilds had a tea room on an upper floor (perhaps the 7th or 11th) where the ladies were expected to wear hats & gloves. They had linen tablecloths & napkins, crystal stemware, and silverware that was silver. This kid from the wrong side of the tracks felt like she was really "uptown" when mom & I would go there for lunch. Other downtown stores were Stewarts, Hutzlers and Hecht Co. Stewarts had lovely, animated displays in the windows for Christmas.


Anyway, hon... I'm Baltimorean through & through, regardless of living where I do. In Baltimore, every kitchen has a can of Old Bay and so does mine here in New Mexico. More later...