Finding Big Foot!

My family and I love junking! No matter where we travel, we usually seek out a flea market, junk store or rummage sale. We are always on the lookout for that irresistible purchase or totally original trinket or one-of-a-kind gadget. It really doesn't matter, because we never go home empty handed. So the minute I spied the words "FLEA MARKET" on the side of a huge metal building in Carthage, I told Matt that we had to stop.

The venture was definitely rewarding as I found a rare biographical book about Jane Austen and six packs of HUGE clear glass Christmas balls. I was and am so excited about the ornaments, because next year I want to to decorate a Christmas Bubble Tree, which consists of varying sizes of clear glass balls and white lights. I saw the picture in the Southern Living Christmas 2010 book, and the tree looks like someone waved a bubble wand and covered the tree with a hundred bubbles. I spent $10 for everything!

Then, we found Big Foot! Only one expression is worthy of Big Foot - OMG!!!! When we first walked up, we heard a sound like someone was crying or howling. It was a seven-month-old baby who was being taught a lesson about getting in the street. Big Foot, the playful baby girl, was tied to a chain as both punishment and precaution. Big Foot is a perro preso canario, which means canary dog of prey. I have watched countless dog shows from the Eukanuba to the Westminster, and I have seen the best of the best. Big Foot was absolutely one of the most impressive dogs I had ever seen - hands down!


I asked the owner if I could photograph her, and he graciously obliged! As I walked over and started petting her, the playful puppy came out! She was licking my face, pawing and prancing at me, and burying her face against my shoulder. OMG! This massive, muscular beast of a dog was a real puppy! After I took a hundred pictures or more, we left the store - not really knowing how to even spell the name of the dog we had just seen. The ornaments and the book had paled in comparison to this majestic animal.

I couldn't wait to get online and find out about the breed, which in hindsight was probably not the best decision. It's like buying something really novel that you are sure is a genuine, authentic original - worth a fortune, of course. Then, you have it appraised only to find out that it's not even worth what you paid for it. Sometimes it's just better to enjoy the bliss of ignorance. When I looked up the breed name (after a few poor attempts at spelling and pronunciation), I found articles about the animal's origin, temperament and unfortunate notoriety. There are several theories as to the breed's creation and the function of the breed. According to Wikipedia, the Presa Canario ancestry probably includes the now extinct Bardino Majero, crossed with imported English Mastiffs. The breed was developed in the Canary Islands in the 1800's specifically for guarding farms, but later became more widely-known for dog fighting. At one time dog fighting was a common and popular entertainment in most European countries, and breeds were developed specially for their tenacity and endurance. In some countries, such as Ireland, fights were staged in open fields, but more often, as was the case in the Canary Islands, fighting took place in rings or pits. With the outlawing of dogfighting on the island and the introduction of foreign dogs such as the German Shepherd Dog, by the 1960s the breed was nearly extinct. The breed was revived by the American veterinarian/anthropologist Dr. Carl Semencic and first introduced to the world outside Spain's Canary Islands. The breed has also received negative publicity after being linked to two fatalities in the United States. Importation and sale of the breed is prohibited in Australia.

If there is one thing that I absolutely despise with all the passion a person can possess, it is dog fighting - buying, breeding, raising or training dogs for dog fighting. Anyone who has read The Lost Dogs by Jim Gorant or Oogy by Larry Levin understands the total barbarism of this so-called sport. Just look up savagery in thesaurus and any synonym applies.

My heart was broken. All afternoon, I thought about that playful puppy, her loving spirit and her beautiful posture and appearance. Then I imagined the depraved, sadistic, inhumane arena that could possibly be her fate. I was almost nauseous at the idea that such an unsuspecting puppy could be nothing more than a twisted source of profit for an even more twisted human being. My son kept reminding me that the owner seemed like he really loved the dog. Matt argued that the owner recognized what a rare animal she was and that my worry was based on speculation. He finally just laughed at how personally affected and disturbed I was about Big Foot's possible ill-fated future.

So, sometimes it's best to be naive. I carefully unpacked my beautiful glass balls and placed them on our Christmas tree. I sat down and read about the life of Jane Austen. I knew my junking adventure had been successful. For in the midst of the ordinary, I had found the special. In the midst of the common, I had found the rare. And in the midst of the widely known, notorious and frequently encountered, I had found the exception - the heart of a puppy inside the mammoth body of a dog...a gentle giant.

Dianne ; )

A House Like Us

The funny thing about blogging is that you never know who is reading what you post...until they call you and offer you towels and sheets and dishes. Despite my temporary displacement over Thanksgiving, I am beginning to feather my nest for Christmas. David and I have decorated a beautiful Christmas tree. I have a new dining table adorned with evergreens, white candles and a potpourri of china. We all have comfortable beds on which to sleep and a couch and loveseat with fluffy pillows on which to sit. Still no television, but that's a personal choice. So, to my sweet friends, relatives and readers, no worries!

In the book, A House in Good Taste, Elsie de Wolfe writes: "You will express yourself in your house whether you want to or not, so you must make up your mind to a long preparatory discipline....We attribute vulgar qualities to those who are content to live in ugly surroundings....We may talk of the weather, but we are looking at the furniture....A house is a dead giveaway, anyhow, so you should arrange it so that the person who sees your personality in it will be reassured, not disconcerted."

I read that quote in another book entitled Daring to Be Yourself by Alexandra Stoddard. When I read it, I thought about the many houses in which our family has lived, from our cozy hundred-year-old cabin to our spacious two-story brick home. No matter where we have lived, the homes have always been decorated to our taste. On one occasion - in the big house - a well-meaning acquaintance inquired as to the "theme" of my home. I told her that my theme was 'personal taste', and evidently she was not impressed. From that point, I knew that even if we talked about the 'weather', she would be looking at the 'furniture'. After giving our visit a little more thought, I realized that it wasn't my house that was disconcerting to her; it was the difference in our personalities.

One of my favorite television shows was and is Gilmore Girls. I absolutely loved Lorelai's blue house! (Check out hookedonhouses.net to be reminded!) It just seemed like such a 'Gilmore' house. I loved Rory's room and Lorelai's kitchen, but then again, I loved their personalities! I was 'reassured' by my weekly episode visits inside their home.

To that end, I have always wanted a 'McLaurin' home, no matter where we lived or what type of house we lived in. Last Thursday night, Katie brought Matt home for me to take him to the airport the following morning. She walked in the door and shouted, "Oh my gosh! It looks so much like our home!"

I reminded her that it is our home, for a season. Then she replied, "No, that's not what I mean. It's beginning to look like us!"

I have a Mary Engelbreit painting that reads, "Home is where one starts from." I also have a stuffed pillow with a quote, "Home is where your story begins." I think I need to add a new quote to my collection: "Home is a house like us."

A HOUSE LIKE US

A house like us always has a wreath on the door that says "Welcome Home."

A house like us has a small kitchen table where Dad drinks his coffee, kids do homework and Mom talks about everything.

A house like us has a sister's room that is always off limits, even when she grows up and moves out.

A house like us has a big dining table where everyone shares a big meal, and our family feels larger than life.

A house like us has a full-size bed with lots of pillows where we read picture books, romance novels and secret letters.

A house like us has a dad's chair where no problem or child is too big to fit.

A house like us always has a night light.

A house like us has a bathroom with a lock and a time limit!

A house like us has hallway that looks like a school yearbook.

A house like us has a coffee table with coasters where everybody props their feet, until Mom gets home.

A house like us has a closet full of quilts for slumber parties and late night weekends of popcorn and movies, board games and cards.

A house like us has a warm oven in the winter and outdoor grill in the summer.

A house like us has one window that is always cracked open in case of forgotten keys or curfews.

A house like us has wicker baskets in every corner of every room where Mom keeps all of her very important stuff.

A house like us has a vacuum cleaner which no one likes to use.

A house like us has a mantle where the same three stockings hang every year at Christmas.

A house like us has a doggy door, chewed decorating books and a few accidents.

A house like us has one favorite place where we all talk for hours.

A house like us has a driveway that can sometimes make you shout with glee and can sometimes make you cry.

Home is a house like us.

Dianne ; )

A Thanksgiving Migration

It's been almost two weeks since my last post! TODAY'S BIG STORY: I am migrating! This past week, I moved into a temporary residence closer to my parents' home and right next to a church. I am now residing near a charming small town called Walnut Grove. The church is charming, the people are charming and my house is charming, and I am so happy to be here for this season of my life.

I have so much to write about that I don't know where to start. My last post was about birds, and I am still thinking about their migrating habits today. Basically, birds migrate for two reasons - survival and mating. I think we humans kind of migrate for the same reasons, in our own expanded version.

I recently watched a program on television about a man who has built a business clearing out foreclosed houses. He said that when residents are removed from these houses, they leave behind expensive china, flat screen televisions, personal possessions and saddest of all, their children's toys. He stated that when he started the business, he employed a couple of people and cleared two to three houses a month. He now employs a large staff of people and barely maintains a schedule of two to three houses per day. The report stated that, at present, there are more than 1.5 million foreclosed homes on the market. I could hardly bear the thought of those families being forced to load up their cars and to leave behind everything that had once been normal.

Even though I could not empathize with the harsh reality of being removed from a home, our family has moved from some really great homes. Plus, I did feel a little like a homeless transient over the Thanksgiving holidays. Because our family is trying to maintain residences in three counties, I did not have furniture or dishes or pictures or any of the comforts of home for the holiday week. We could have traveled to the beach house and enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving meal cooked with my own Townecraft pots, or we could have gone to the college apartment and have eaten a Thanksgiving feast on our family dining table. Ultimately, we spent Thanksgiving with my parents in a home that we had given to them. We had a country feast of baked ham, squash dressing, sweet potato casserole, green peas and fresh red potatoes; however, for the first time in years, I did not cook one single recipe. I even bought a pecan pie and cheese cake from a grocery store to take as my desserts.

Because...back at my rental home, I had empty cabinets, no television (which meant no Food Network, no SEC football and no Macy's Parade) and plastic storage tubs for chairs. My husband, kids and I spent the weekend moving what little was left in storage, and we slept on the floor. Although we know where all our "stuff" is, we still felt a bit detached, small and insignificant. And yet, every single one of us felt good about the move.

That's why I am thinking about those migrating birds. According to the book Seabirds of the World by Ronald M. Lockley, "That migration is such a common strategy amongst birds indicates that it must be a successful proposition. The tendency to migrate would quickly be lost from any population of birds if it led to unacceptably high losses....To the birds, as they have evolved through millions of generations, flying comes easy and the option to migrate is one that very many choose. Once more, thinking of the migration option in human terms, the risks seem enormous. Can the bird store the energy to make the flight? Can it navigate correctly to reach its destination? Will there be the proper food supply available when it gets there? Will it be able to make the return trip to the breeding grounds for the following summer? So many hazards still seem to put the migrant species at a disadvantage compared with one which is to scrape an existence at 'home' during the winter."

I just love this writer and this book! I can relate so many of our family moves to the migrations of birds - all the energy required for moving, navigating a new place, finding the best places to eat and always routing the quickest way back to everybody's homes. Even though we are uprooted and detached and unsettled, we anticipate this current move as a 'successful proposition'.

In another book, Bird Migration by Chris Mead, the Greek historian Heroditus calls men and horses "the dwarf race" as they live in caves; however, the "Cranes furthermore do things with prudence, for they seek for their convenience distant places and fly high that they may look out far, and, if they shall have seen clouds or a storm, betake themselves to earth, and take rest on the ground."

During Thanksgiving, I felt a kinship to that dwarf race - missing all the materialistic comforts of my conventional cave. But, I also hope to borrow some lessons from the migrating flight of the cranes: Do things with prudence (calculation, foresight, providence), seek out distant places for my convenience, fly high for the best view, and keep my feet on the ground when the storms are inevitable.

Dianne ; )

Love is a Voice

I have always wanted to begin a children's book with the following opening line: Love is a voice and a presence in burrow darkness. I first read the quote in a book entitled Sea Birds of the World, text by Ronald Lockley. The quote refers to the bonding which occurs between birds during both mating and parenting seasons. I have read so many books about migratory birds, and I am amazed that a "voice" can be so unique that it is completely distinct among all other voices. According to the book, the sea bird "species is monogamous and usually a pair will remain faithful to each other as long as both shall live. This faithfulness is the result - as it often is in man - of establishing a partnership at the breeding site and successfully raising progeny together....The pair-bond is renewed and maintained at the nest in several stereotyped ways, but principally by individual voice recognition....Love, for these birds, is a voice and a presence in burrow darkness."

Anyone who has ever read a book on writing or attended a writing conference has been exhorted, trained and drilled to find his or her "unique voice." A writer's voice is what distinguishes them from among the thousands of clamoring, chattering, obscure writers in the world. If that voice is authentic or patent enough, then the writer moves from desiring to be heard to desiring to be read. When I become captivated by a certain author, I actually long for his or her next book to be published. Written words simply lay flat on any manuscript page; however, when the writer has a "voice", there is a presence that draws the reader in - almost like time spent with an intimate companion.

I have taken pictures of thousands of shore birds on the beach and have listened to their repetitive calls. Their squawks, chacks, quacks, grunts, chickerings, coos, cries and caws sound like a chorus of indiscriminate gibberish to me, and yet, to the right bird, love is a voice. One morning, I heard a mourning dove cooing outside the upstairs window of my daughter's condo. The dove continued the persistent early morning song, which sounded so forlorn and longing. I decided to raise the blinds, grab my camera and take a picture. Actually, I took several.

The first dove cooing outside my window.

The surprising arrival of the second dove.

Time spent catching up and cooing

...and kissing

...and snuggling

...and more cooing.

Then, the first dove flew away...

and the second dove seemed cooingly content.

Before I read that banding studies have proven that 90 percent of migratory birds are monogamous, a friend of mine told me that doves pair for life. This past week, I have been thinking about love and bonding and life partners. Within a few days of each other, my oldest daughter's first love and my son's first love became engaged to other people. Although both siblings have remained friends with their former companions, the coincidence of the engagements made for some interesting family conversation.

What is even more synchronous is a trip that Aimee and Matt have been planning for weeks. Aimee invited Matt to take a weekend vacation and attend a conference championship football game with her. She and her sister had gone to New York early this year, and it was Matt's turn. The trip seemed out-of-the-blue and unexpected, but every detail fell right into place. I wonder. At a time when they both may be questioning their "voice recognition skills" or the trademark of their own "voice", nothing soothes the wandering soul like a long migratory flight and an afternoon of college football.

Dianne ; )

Life Mapping with Matt

My kids grew up with a Spiegel catalog in their hands. They would literally fight over it when it came in the mail. Not because they were super-materialistic kids, but because they loved to play paper dolls; except their form of paper dolls was not like that of most children. My three small kids (from ages four and five until they were teenagers) created their grown-up lives with catalogs. They began the mapping out process in their individual bedrooms and sometimes they covered the entire house with their selected pages of living. The technique was simple. They foraged through the pages of Spiegel, Lands End, Eddie Bauer, Ballard Designs and any other home or clothing mail-order catalog that wound up in our mailbox. They chose living room furniture, kitchen dishes, holiday decorations, family members (husband, wife, son and daughter - sometimes grandma, aunt, cousin, etc.), clothing, bedding, and essentially everything you needed to have a perfect paper life.

When they found something they wanted, they slapped the page fast and hard, and shouted, "I Want That!" Quickness was absolutely key to getting what you wanted, like a fast-paced game of cards. Then, they tore out the pages or cut specific images and meticulously placed them all over the floor - leaving only a pathway to walk. Finally, they rummaged through my magazines to find expensive cars, adorable pets and any other aspect of their paper lives that the catalogs did not provide. The process took all day. Once they finished creating their paper worlds, they always called me to come and view the periodical depictions of their perfect lives. It was absolutely amazing! I have always wanted it to be a "today's big story", but I never knew how to "picture book" such a complicated process.

This past weekend, my grown-up son and I spent Saturday in the capital city of our state. Our agenda was simple - visit the Amtrak station to plan a family trip. Once we received all of the information and toured the station, we decided to enjoy a cup of pumpkin spice coffee, walk around the nearly deserted downtown streets and enjoy the fall day. He had been looking at lofts and condos online that he wanted to see in person, and I had brought my camera...so we began an afternoon adventure. As we started looking at the various buildings, shops, architecture and restaurants, I experienced a process that I had encountered before. Matt was mapping out a life - not a paper one, but a real one. He was beginning his selection process, and I was simply invited to view some of his choices. The grown-up boy was saying, "I want that and I want that!"

What better place to begin a journey than the train station!

Love repeated patterns...

and architectural details...

and lots of color...

and the state's perfect tour guide!

Love the tile and the building!

Love fire escapes...

big clocks...

and coffee shops!

One of Matt's aspiration addresses is the Electric 308 Building... (I love this picture because you can see the building name and number in the background!)

or the Plaza... (I love this picture - reminds me of an opitical illusion.)

or maybe the most important address in the state!

Love things that come in threes...

and iconic eateries...

and restaurants that are closed for the day...

and restaurants that are getting ready to open!

Need new shoes for the journey...

and a one very old phone booth!

A view from the bottom...

and the top (thanks to a sweet gentleman at the Capitol Towers Building!)...

...and maybe, one day, from a window.

TODAY'S BIG STORY: A rare mail-order catalog perfect day with my favorite grown-up son.

Dianne ; )