Honorary GSD

(My poor computer is going to explode--I have dial-up, and at the moment I'm downloading a YouTube video, marking an NPR feature I want to listen to, doing a search for a phrase, AND working on this blog entry.)

Honorary GSD, that's me. I took the Ts out on the front porch this afternoon, where they can't get away, and took the shedding rake to them. I love shedding rakes--they really drag out the hair. I got an astonishing amount from Taenzer. Timber I had to do more carefully because of his phobia, but I still got enough hair to make a good-sized Persian cat.

I don't know why it was, but no matter where I was in relation to the dog, I was ALWAYS downwind! That's what made me an honorary GSD--a thin coat of GSD hair.

I was stupid--(a) I didn't take pictures of the huge wafts of undercoat floating around like gossamer tumbleweeds and (b) I didn't put it into a bag as it came off the dogs. At this rate I really am going to have to learn to spin--I have 5 bags of undercoat from Stella, and half a bag of Timber's, and if I can make my brain work, I'll obviously collect a lot more. I really really want it spun up. I've knit things with spun Samoyed undercoat and spun Shiba Inu undercoat, and I love working with dog hair. The shiba was particularly nice because it was undyed and from a red, so there were beautiful variations of color that made the fabric look so rich. Timber's undercoat is *really* fine. I know they measure these things in microns, and I bet this is down there with quiviut and bison (two other fibers I'm simply perishing to work with. Undyed bison is the most gorgeous deep brown I've ever seen. And I'd love to see if quiviut gloves over silk glove liners might actually keep my fingers warm). There's a place that spins pet hair professionally, but I don't think I can afford to have them do it. On the other hand--if I don't have it spun, that's something I'll genuinely regret, so maybe I should just pack the stuff up and mail it off and swallow the cost.

A friend suggested Timber might have diabetes. Of course I did't want to hear *that*. But after reading and thinking about it, I decided probably not--he doesn't have the appetite; if anything he seems reluctant to eat, as if he might be queasy or nauseous. I took his temp with the ear thermometer (my good boy--no problem at all), and it's nice and normal--101--so that's a relief.

I'm having a small nervous breakdown over the van. It's getting kind of dangerous to drive. I cannot--I cannot decide between that 2001 Taurus wagon which for no particular reason I just don't like and the 2003 Caravan which looks great and handles great and rides great and doesn't have any of the options I want. I'm getting backed into a corner here. I wish something I *do* like--and can afford--would pop up. Maybe I'll just see about getting the transmission fixed on the van and deal with the rusty door panels.

Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose. I've been reading a biography of the great 17th century French letter writer, Madame de Sevigne, illustrated copiously, of course, with translations of her letters. I ran across this last night:

"I have been here eight days in a peace and quiet which has cured me of a frightful cold. I have drunk water, I have not talked, I have eaten no supper, and although I have not shortened my walks, I am cured.... I am convinced that most of our ills come from keeping our rumps glued to the seat of a chair." (Madame de Sevigne: The Life and Letters, Frances Mossiker, Alfred A. Knopf Pub., 1983, p. 124)

That was written in1671, almost 350 years ago, and yet how modern it sounds: exercise, fresh air, fresh water to drink, watching one's intake of food.