It's been an interesting journey so far in 2015, one that has been marked by two major themes: pet-sitting and health issues.
February landscape.
The first health issue was mine. On the second day of 2015, I got a migraine that didn't respond to medication. While I constantly have new migraines cropping up, most do respond to my medications or, at the very least, I'm able to sleep them off. This migraine, though, didn't budge. My meds didn't make a dent. It was of the type that I call a "brain-in-flames" migraine, which feels pretty much like how it sounds. I also had a nasty black ball of migraine pain behind my right eye. Add fatigue, cognitive fogginess, and the usual sensory sensitivity, and then next thing I knew, I was spending 20 hours a day in bed, unable to do anything more demanding than read children's books.
Imagine that the light in this video of the sun is pain and you have an idea of what a migraine is like.
That went on for a couple of weeks and then I finally contacted my neurologist. You'd think I might have contacted the headache clinic sooner, but I'm pretty much at the limits of what can be done for my migraines, so I wasn't sure there was any point. But I was getting scared that this unending burning migraine with the ball of pain behind the eye was going to be my new normal, so they checked me out and set me up with three days of DHE injections and though the injections didn't really help dramatically at first, eventually the migraine sort of dribbled off. It was followed by an equal number of weeks of postdromal (post-migraine) symptoms, including serious fatigue and unusual sensitivity in my peripheral vision. While the migraine did ultimately go away, it definitely spooked me. There's nothing more alarming when you have a chronic condition to have some new (and worse) wrinkle appear!
Good ol' Mr. Gorgeous
He spends most of his time sleeping now.
As the worst of the headache was on the wane, I looked after my good friend, Mr. Gorgeous the collie, for a few days. Mr. Gorgeous recently turned 14 million years old, a major accomplishment for any dog and truly astounding for a large one. There's simply no getting around the fact that he is, well, 14 million years old and 14-million-year-old dogs don't live forever. His owners had reported that he was doing well, other than the fact that he is ancient and has degenerative myelopathy. I was shocked, therefore, when I saw him. He was skinny and the coat that gave him his nickname was lacking luster, but what really worried me was that he seemed vacant on the inside. Now, Mr. Gorgeous has never been what you might call a genius and he's only got about half a dozen facial expressions (and, I have long suspected, only half a dozen emotions to go with them), but there's always been someone home inside his eyes. This time it seemed different. And then, worse yet, to use the simplest terms, he pooped his pants in his sleep.
Mr. Gorgeous also has laryngeal paralysis, a condition not uncommon in large, geriatric dogs. As vocal cord function decreases, his bark has been reduced to a whispery "hoo! hoo!"
Degenerative myelopathy causes progressive, irreversible damage to the spinal cord, eventually resulting in total paralysis of the hind end. Mr. Gorgeous' case has progressed much more slowly than I'd initially feared it would and while he walks with a flat-footed waddle and can't swing into his old trot without tripping over his feet, he's remained surprisingly mobile and still tackles the stairs on most days, albeit with a bit of a bunny hop. But the paralysis is still creeping onward and when I saw that he'd had diarrhea without even waking up, I was worried that I was looking at the first signs of loss of sphincter control. There's nothing less dignified than a grand old dog with poo-soaked fur and the idea that this is what it had come to really broke my heart. That vacant look, his loss of pleasure in his food, his lack of interest in having his ears rubbed, and that possible sign of the relentless progression of paralysis made me fear for the worst, and when I said good-bye to him when the gig was done, I said good-bye for real, in case it was the last time I saw him.
The end of Mr. Gorgeous?
I've wondered before now how I would fare when Mr. Gorgeous' time came. I'm enormously fond of him, sure, and get a big kick out of him, but have never had that soul-to-soul connection like the one I have with my own dog or with Sweetheart the German Shepherd. I've been taking care of Mr. Gorgeous for five years, the longest of any of my dog clients, so I know him intimately, and I knew I'd miss him, but would I grieve for him? The answer is yes. I cried when I got home that evening and cried again in subsequent days as I faced the possibility of the world without Mr. Gorgeous in it. Maybe I didn't have that magical one-being-to-another connection, but this great-big, good-looking dog had clearly claimed a piece of my heart.
A time for reflection.
I was relieved, then, to learn that all this heartbreak was premature. That vacant look, the accident in his sleep? It was all the result of an upset tummy. However, when his owners took him to the vet for a checkup, the vet did find a serious problem: Mr. Gorgeous needed twelve teeth removed. I had wondered if his lack of appetite (and therefore his thinness) was the result of tooth decay, as is very common among elderly dogs, and his owners had switched him to a softer diet, but the mess in Mr. G's mouth went way beyond some sore teeth and into the realm of impeding disaster. He was scheduled right away for oral surgery, and as it happened, his people had to go out of town shortly after the surgery, so I was called in to play nurse.
Mr. Gorgeous, minus a dozen of his teeth, including all of his lower front incisors.
Feeling better.
The first few days, Mr. Gorgeous was woozy and knocked out almost all the time from his pain meds, but he took his pills well enough if they were dabbed with butter and hidden in food that I hand-fed him on a spoon. He seemed uninterested in drinking his water--I think the extraction sites were very sensitive--so I added more water to his already soft and mushy post-op food and fed him several small meals during the day. He did meander after me as I wandered around his property with a camera, but was unsurprisingly subdued. By the time a week had passed since the surgery, Mr. Gorgeous started to perk up a great deal. He was enthusiastic about his meals (especially if I included some baloney pieces--he was quite unimpressed if there weren't a few snippets here and there among the canned food and mushy kibble and would stare at me pointedly through the door until I added some to his meal) and he started licking his bowl clean for the first time in more than year. He not only wanted to get ear noogies, he DEMANDED them, shoving his head into my lap and budging my hands until I rubbed the inside of his ears with a knuckle. He even demonstrated some moments of playfulness. In his old age, Mr. Gorgeous has lost interest in playing, so it made my heart happy to see him showing a bit of friskiness. It was so fulfilling to see his spirit rekindled and to have a hand in the process. Normally, I don't much care to handle pieces of baloney made slippery by canned dog food and dog slobber, especially first thing after I wake up, but for Mr. Gorgeous, it was an honor.
He's not what he was in his prime, but Mr. Gorgeous is still one handsome beast.
A black light revealed a flora infestation.
And then there was the paw fungus. I'd noticed Abbey was licking her paws more a while ago, but she's always done some paw licking when she's settled down and feeling drowsy, so I wasn't overly concerned until I noticed that she had developed saliva stains (which are reddish-brown) on the fur of her back paws. We went to the vet, where she was first prescribed an antibiotic to cure the crusty infections caused by her licking. She was still licking her paws after finishing the antibiotics, so we went back to the vet. This time, with the crustiness cleared away, the source of the itching was apparent: a fungal infection. Dogs carry fungi and yeasts (or "flora") on their feet all the time--it's responsible for the "Frito feet" (paws that smell like corn chips) phenomenon that many of us love--and most of them are harmless. When things get out of control and the fungi proliferate, it's a different story. Abbey picked up a new fungus somewhere and I think that during the time I was away dog-sitting in November and December and she was in her crate for at least part of every day, she probably passed some of the time by licking her paws. Dogs can sometimes get in a sort of trance-like state while licking themselves (I call it "mesmer-licking") and lick and lick and lick, spreading any fungi around, adding in bacteria from their mouths, and encouraging it all to grow with their warm saliva. Fungal infections can be difficult to treat, so the vet emphasized that our best bet was to knock it out as thoroughly and quickly as possible, which would mean that I would have to follow instructions precisely. What did that entail? Prednisone, an anti-fungal medication, daily medicated foot soaks, and preventing Abbey from licking her paws.
Overheated from prednisone and wearing socks to prevent paw-licking, Abbey tries to get some rest by sprawling flat.
Stylish in baggies over socks.
Abbey had no trouble taking her medications (she gets them in a marshmallow and she looooooves marshmallows) and she was perfectly fine with wearing socks on her back paws, held in place by a cuff of masking tape. She readily accepted having plastic baggies put over her socks when she went outside and she actually seemed to enjoy the inflatable cone that I put on her for a few days after she started licking her lady bits instead of going after her paws. But she hated soaking her feet. All she had to do was stand in a few inches of warm, treated water for fifteen minutes, but it was horribly stressful for her. I'd set a timer and give her a treat every thirty seconds of those fifteen minutes, gently restraining her while singing to soothe her, and although she made no desperate attempts to escape (aside from scrabbling while being lowered into the tub, which she was not about to jump in on her own), she panted anxiously throughout. She hated getting her feet rinsed at the end of the bath, too, though eating peanut butter off a spoon while I throughly washed the solution off her feet made it slightly more bearable. Those two weeks of nightly soakings were miserable and exhausting for both of us!
My poor anxious girl hating every second of her daily foot soaking.
And then there was the prednisone. I understand we got fairly lucky as far as Abbey's side effects go, but there were most definitely side effects. I didn't immediately catch on to how voraciously hungry it made her because I was busy making sure that she didn't lose her appetite, a sign of a dangerous complication of the fungal medication. Abbey is fed the same amount of food every day, portioned out with a measuring cup, so with the prednisone cranking up her metabolism, it didn't take long before her spine started showing and her hip bones jutting. We weighed her and were astonished that she'd dropped down to 42 pounds! She'd seemed a little thin after she shed her winter coat, so we'd weighed her just a week or two before starting to treat her for the paw fungus, so we knew that she'd been at 45 pounds. (She usually weighs in around 47.) She'd managed to drop three pounds in just a matter of days, so I ended up doubling her food and spreading it out over three meals a day instead of her usual one. She also drank at least triple her usual amount of water and had to go out every hour or so, it seemed. She became a pooping and peeing machine! We were lucky, though, that she remained in control of those functions, so there were no accidents. However, prednisone also gave her a bit of a personality change. She was bolder, punchier, naughtier. She's never gotten in the trash before, but one day, while I was in the shower, she managed to open the cupboard door, tip over the trash can, and spread its contents all over the kitchen floor, consuming several chicken bones in the process. We had to start putting a stool in front of the cupboard door so she wouldn't go shopping! She was either amped up and pacing and panting or sprawled absolutely flat in an area with good airflow, her tail stretched out, as she tried to keep herself cool. We did a very slow taper off of the prednisone and it was such a relief when I finally got my Abbey back!
She may look like she's smiling, but prednisone made Abbey hot, restless, roughish, and voraciously hungry and thirsty.
The good news is that all that effort paid off. Between the socks and the medication and the foot baths, when the vet rechecked her paws after two weeks, she had a normal and healthy amount of flora on her feet. I still put socks on her when I leave her in her crate because if she gets to licking her paws again her feet could flare back up, but for now, the stressful episode of Abbey and the Paw Fungus is over.
A pretty Pyrenees.
After a little bit of downtime, it was on to the next dog! Cutie's owner had to have a hip replaced, so I was called in to walk her and entertain her in the afternoons. While we're now down to a twice-a-week walks-only schedule, for much of the last couple of months, I've seen Cutie nearly every day. It's been something of an adventure, in part because Cutie is smart and sassy with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and quite a lot of energy for a big four-year-old. She's less go-go-go than she used to be and will settle while at home, but when she's on the go, she is on the GO. At 90 pounds and with four feet for traction, you'd better be ready to go, too! One day, while we were at a park, she started doing zoomies , a popular name for when a dog tucks its rump and runs around in a wild and crazy manner. And they weren't just any zoomies, they were mud zoomies. We'd been walking across a damp field and hit a patch where the mud was several very squishy inches deep under the grass and she went nuts. So not only was I being yanked this way and that, I was being yanked this way and that through the mud. She was quite a mess when I finally got her moved on, so I decided our walk would take us to a nearby creek where the two of us could rinse off a bit. Well, Cutie found the creek even more exciting than the mud and had a wild session of creek zoomies. In the creek! Out of the creek! In the creek! Out of the creek! And all with me being jerked along behind. It's fortunate I was wearing my hiking boots, as I would have likely fallen and been pulled about face first if I'd had any less traction. Oh, Cutie! It's always an adventure.
There's mischief in those eyes.
A wide angle lens has distorted Cutie's size as she stands on the console, but she really is huge!
Trying to rub off her head halter.
I should add that I'm never walking this big, powerful, playful dog just on a regular collar. Cutie walks best on a head halter, but she hates it, so as long as she's behaving well, I'll walk her on a front-clip harness. It reduces the pulling enough that she's manageable unless she sees something really exciting (or wants to have mud zoomies). Even though I sometimes make her wear the hated head halter, Cutie is always very happy to see me. She has the most ridiculous little bared-teeth grin when I first come in and she's given me the guard dog's ultimate compliment: she doesn't bark when my car pulls into the driveway, just stands at the window and wags her tail! I also love how she'll stand on the center console (looming enormously) when we first get in the car to go somewhere and gives my ears little licks of affection and delight. My own dog does a similar thing and I find it most endearing.
A happy, tired Cutie after a walk.
Of course, it's easy enough for a dog to like you when fun stuff happens every time you come over, so I'm actually very excited about a new client of mine, where the investment is going to be very different, but very rewarding.
The tiny poodle.
I'll call her Pipsqueak. She's a teeny tiny, five pound, five-year-old poodle who is smaller than Cutie's head. My natural preference is for medium to large dogs, but I have to admit, Pipsqueak is adorable. And therein lies the problem. Her owners like to say that she suffers from Too Cute Syndrome. People see her and they go into a frenzy of cooing and touching and getting in her personal space. They want to treat her like a baby, a little living doll. The thing is, while Pipsqueak may be tiny, she's every bit as much of a dog as Cutie is. She's intelligent, well-trained, playful, sweet, mellow, and affectionate. The big difference is that Cutie can knock you over if you infringe on her personal space. Pipsqueak has no such defense: she is physically outsized and overwhelmed by every human being she encounters. She's also a naturally private and rather submissive dog, so is it really a surprise that most people send her hiding under the couch? As someone who has dealt with anxiety myself, I can sympathize. My job, then, as her dog-sitter, is to respect her boundaries and earn her trust in addition to making sure her needs are met. Fortunately, Abbey's leeriness of strangers has given me an education on how to approach an anxious dog: namely, don't approach. After a decade of telling visitors that "when she's ready, she'll come to you," I get to put that into practice with Pipsqueak.
Imagine being swept up and squeezed by a squealing giant standing more than 50 feet tall and weighing more than a ton and a half: that's what it's like to be Pipsqueak. No wonder people unnerve her!
Pipsqueak and I hit it off right away when I consulted with her owners, so much so that she did me the honor of letting me pet her belly before I left. Apparently, I'm only the fourth person she's ever bestowed that privilege upon! She was much more timid when I came by the first time to spend a day with her, just the two of us, but she stayed in the room and on the couch (versus under the couch in a different room), which was a great start, so I just let her be. She pretended to ignore me and I pretended to ignore her. Eventually, she fell asleep. At one point, I looked up and saw that she had edged closer to me. I knew that this was a big display of trust on her part, and honored that trust by continuing to work quietly in her vicinity. She never felt quite comfortable enough to get off the couch during that afternoon, but we did progress to the point where she was wagging her tail when I offered her a treat (and eating the treat, too) and she did solicit some petting, including another offer to let me rub her tummy. I'm going to continue to do some short visits with her before doing overnight work, but I have confidence that as long as I take it slow, respect Pipsqueak's autonomy (and minute anatomy!), and move the relationship forward at her pace, we'll come to be good friends. As much fun as it is to be around a dog that loves everybody, meeting the needs of a dog that is scared to trust anybody is, to me, an honor. It's something that I can do that not everyone else has the patience or know-how to accomplish. Just as I felt is was a privilege to hand-feed Mr. Gorgeous slimy pieces of baloney if that's what he needed in order to recover from his surgery, I feel it is a privilege to work with Miss Pipsqueak and I hope to do right by her.
Pipsqueak rewards me for my quiet patience by licking my hand while letting me rub her belly.
During all this time, there was more migraine chaos. Some of it was caused by turbulent spring weather. I was driving out to Cutie's one afternoon, storm clouds looming and nausea rising, when I thought, "If I don't pull over RIGHT NOW and take some nausea medicine, I'm going to be pulling over in a mile to throw up." After stopping and taking the meds, I thought, "You know, if I'm going to be in danger of puking and likely get a nasty, weather-induced migraine to go with it, I'd prefer to be puking at home." So I hastily cancelled my walking duties, drove home with gritted teeth, paused to dry heave when I got in the door, and then went to bed for three days while the thunderstorms continued. Thankfully, Cutie's owners are very understanding and didn't expect me back until I was fully recovered.
Thunderstorms bring rainbows and migraines.
Some weeks later, I developed swelling in my neck around my throat. I was sure that it was related to a nasty too-much-blood-in-the-head migraine and stiff, sore neck I'd been having, but it was definitely weird. The swelling was sufficient enough to be visible and to put uncomfortable pressure on my throat when I swallowed. I was checked out by a nurse practitioner at my primary care doctor's office, where it was determined that my lymph nodes were fine, which seemed like the only other possible culprit. In the end, an injection of DHE, an erogtamine vasoconstrictor used to treat migraines, cured both the migraine AND the swelling, so I felt vindicated in my belief. I've had it thrice since. I'm thinking that exercise is an important contributor, because after doing research about histamine (an antihistamine helped bring the swelling down the second time it occurred), I realized that I've long had what is known as an exercise-induced histamine response. It's what causes my exercise-induced asthma, makes my nose run profusely when I exercise, and causes occasional episodes of itching. In simple terms, I'm allergic to exercise. Histamine, though we think of it as being solely associated with allergies, is actually what is known as an inflammatory mediator and is at work when there is swelling associated with injury and infections, too. In an effort to bring more white blood cells to an area where there is a legitimate injury or infection, or, in the case of allergies, when there is not a legitimate injury or infection but the body thinks there is, it causes blood vessels to dilate. Migraines also cause blood vessels to dilate. I think there is some interplay going on here when I exercise while I have a migraine, especially one with a lot of swelling, so my body is swarming with histamine and all those great big blood vessels in my neck get the message that they need to expand. I could be wrong, but my hunches when it comes to migraines have a pretty good track record. I'll be discussing all this in detail with my neurologist when I see her in a few weeks.
2000-2015
And finally, a very old, very sick cat that I looked after for a few month passed away. It was his time, but he was loved dearly by his family and will be missed.
So, between collies with oral surgery, paws with fungus, owners with hip replacements, poodles with anxiety, and some migraine weirdness, it's been a very busy spring. Undoubtably, there are more of all of these things to come!
I ain't gonna lie: 2013 was, overall, a really hard year. (I'll eventually get around to posting about why.) I felt sick more of the time, felt down more of the time, and had less energy pretty much all of the time. The year wasn't without its bright spots, however, and so I would like to present the Things I Liked in 2013.
Fashion
Abbey decided she wanted to be in the jeans photo, too.
Please also note my awesome shoes.
This will sound funny, but one of the things I really liked this year was a pair of Jolt jeans I purchased this summer. I haven't had new bluejeans since 2008 because I don't wear jeans very much anymore; I find that stiffness of denim is a difficult texture for me to tolerate except for very short periods. But these new jeans are soft enough and loose enough that I can wear them comfortably for long periods on days when I'm feeling well. They're also very stylish, looking great with the cuffs rolled up in the summer and rolled down for winter. They're slim enough to wear inside boots but not so tight as to be uncomfortable. The last time I fell in love with a pair of jeans was in 2003. I have other pieces of clothing that I love, but my inability to wear anything more physically demanding than T-shirts and fleece most of the time means that the majority of them only get trotted out once or twice a year. I've been able to wear the jeans on quite a few occasions and they make me feel not just like an ordinary person, but a very stylish ordinary person!
Books
I read a lot more in 2013 than I have in previous years because I spent more time in bed. While reading was taxing for my migraine brain, I had to do something to fill those hours. I read some two dozen Agatha Christie novels because they were easy for me to consume, but I did venture into some slightly more challenging territory. The books listed below (in no particular order) are all books that I read for the first time this year and enjoyed enough to subsequently reread.
Kate Atkinson has been consistently one of my top three favorite authors since I was in my teens, so of course I liked her latest effort, Life After Life. It's made a lot of Top Books of 2013 lists, so I'm not alone in finding pleasure in her work. Very generally speaking, this book is about a girl, born in the first half of the 1900's, who is given the opportunity relive life again and again--and to get it right. It paints an especially vivid portrait of London during the Blitz of 1940-1941 and the bleak years immediately following war, which contrasts nicely with the more idyllic (though still perilous for our young heroine) country life depicted earlier in the book.
I was given this book, Border Songs by Jim Lynch, as a gift by someone who knew about my interest in birds. I really like this book for a number of reasons. For one, it takes place not too far from where I live, so the landscapes (and the birds) are familiar to me. Secondly, in many ways, I am very much like the protagonist in that I have extra keen senses that allow me to notice things that others miss. (Unlike the protagonist, I am not dyslexic and I am quite socially adept.) I enjoyed the concept that a bird-obsessed individual with a sensory hypersensitivity disorder might accidentally, through those unusual traits, find himself a hero of the border patrol.
Written by the same author, Sara Gruen, as Water For Elephants, Ape House had such a compelling story about a group of research bonobos and the woman that loves them that I read it in a single sitting because I wanted to know what as going to happen next! This and Border Songs are the only books among those I've listed here that are told in chronological order and Ape House could be said to be much more plot-driven than even that book, as in it's not focused on character development. That is not to say that the characters are not fully developed: I found them to interesting, believable, and sympathetic. But the bonobos are the real stars (this book grew out of the author's experience of getting to know a group of research bonobos) and you care deeply about their fate.
Erin Morgentsern's The Night Circus is strange and magical. I use the word "magical" both in the sense that it's a spell-binding tale and also that the tale is about magic. It's a sinuous, sensual story that winds through time, flickering, tantalizing, and full of shadows. I was able to build an approximation of the circus at the heart of the story in my mind as I read, though I do wish that that bewildering and bewitching place really did exist! I give the author a lot of credit for building such a beguiling and unusual world; here's to great imaginations!
Where'd You Go, Bernadette was a big hit last year, but I didn't get around to reading Maria Semple's novel until this year. It's fast-paced and fun, written as a compilation of documents: emails, faxes, letters, report cards, and other miscellany come together to form a cohesive portrait of a wacky cast of characters. It also pokes loving but well-deserved fun at Seattle, Microsoft, and the culture that surrounds them both. As someone well acquainted with Seattle, Microsoft, and said cultures, it was fun to see my world skewered by someone with a sharp eye and chorus of over-the-top characters to speak on her behalf. Also, I had no idea how it was going to end until it ended, so it gets extra points for that!
I read The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh straight through in one sitting, took a day off, then read it from start to finish in one day again! There are many different aspects that can make a book great, from a great plot to great characters to great dialogue to great language. This book nailed, more than any book I've read recently, the category of great emotional authenticity. I really believed that the (difficult) characters felt the way they did, so much so that I teared up both times I read it, and I'm not the sort to weep over books or movies! It gets the Read It Straight Through And Made Me Teary-Eyed stamp of approval.
Horse Heaven, by Jane Smiley, has been around for years, but it worked out perfectly for me to encounter it for the first time during a year when horses played a very important role in my life. It follows the stories of multiple race horses and the owners, trainers, jockeys, fans, and other people who love them. It immerses you in the world of horse racing and is vivid, often funny, and not sad or sentimental. I liked that--I was not interested in any sad horse stories this year! I retain vivid memories of attending the races a few years ago, back before I started riding, and standing at the rail and gaping at the magnificent horses. I didn't care about the races; all I wanted to do was eat those gorgeous animals with my eyes. Horse racing has a lot of negative elements to it, and while Horse Heaven doesn't gloss over the fact that it can be the ruin of horses, trainers, owners, and gamblers, it also captures the starry-eyed fascination that keeps drawing people to horses.
I enjoyed Eowyn Ivey's The Snow Child for its uncanny blend of realism and fairytale. Is the girl that the grieving, crumbling couple spot in the Alaskan wilderness a manifestation of their shared longing for a daughter, the snow child of Russian folklore come to life? Or is she just a little girl who has learned to not just survive but to love the fierce winters? Does it matter if she's mythical or real if she can be what the couple has always desired: a child to care for? And what happens when a snow child or a child of the snow develops desires of her own? It's an interesting premise for a novel and I liked how the grim realities of the couple's backbreaking, tenuous existence seem very realistically rooted in the world we know, making its element of the fantastic all the more surreal and disorienting.
Television
Let's be honest: Jonathan Rhys Meyers
was the main reason to watch "Tudors"
I didn't watch much in the way of TV shows or movies this year because all that visual and auditory sensory info was just too much for me to cope with. I did spend the whole year working my way through all ten seasons of "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" on Netflix. I liked that the episodes followed a predictable format, that there was little emphasis on the violence of the crimes that occurred, that the characters were interesting but not so interesting that I cared about them, and that justice was always served at the end of the show. It was, for me, the television equivalent of all those Agatha Christie novels that I read in bed. I watched "The Tudors," which was fun, and but only part of "Borgia," because it was too intense, and while I enjoyed the way they evoked the world of their times, they don't quite make my official cut of "Things I Liked in 2013." I gobbled up "Orange is the New Black," but so did everyone else, so I don't feel like I need to make it a special highlight.
A series that does make my list is "Earthflight," which aired on PBS. The six-episode series about flight covered birds on every continent, providing some utterly breathtaking images. I had never imaged that scarlet macaws could be so beautiful when on the wing! The quality of the footage is just incredible--you can see every barb on the feathers in some shots. I was extremely pleased that the final episode was devoted to showing how they got those amazing shots of the birds in action.
Another series that I enjoyed this year was "The Paradise," a BBC/PBS show that kept us handily entertained while waiting for the next season of "Downton Abbey." It's a costume drama, a genre I enjoy, and one that creates a fully realized world: that of the (fictional) first department store in England in 1875. The heroine of the story is a intrepid young woman who leaves her small town to find fortune in the city, where her natural business acumen makes her a great asset to the store and store's owner. Around this central premise stir friendships, rivalries, romance, familial love, and the tension of long-standing way of life giving way to modernity. I'm looking forward to the second season!
Movies
My mother and I love watching shows about dance. We're ardent fans of the TV show "So You Think You Can Dance" and have watched most of the documentaries about dance that are available on Netflix. I'd heard some mention of the film "Pina" before I spotted it while scrolling the "Social and Cultural Documentaries" section looking for movies either about dance or design, so my mother and I took a chance on it, even though we haven't watched many performance documentaries. We were not in the least prepared for the breathtakingly powerful, surreal, witty, and visceral dances by German choreographer Pina Bausch. Many of the dances depicted are staged in places other than the theater and most of the dancers are of "non-traditional" ages and sizes, granting the performances an extra element of power and beauty. The film had been planned with Pina's collaboration, but she died shortly before filming was to begin. Thus, it becomes not only a collection of amazing dances, but also an amazing eulogy to a great talent.
Music
I didn't listen to much music in 2013 because I wasn't feeling well enough to tolerate the noise, but I have to brag about my cousin Jameson's work, a blend of folk and rock with a touch of country. He put out two albums recently: last December he released a full-length studio album with his band, Jameson & Co., and this December he released a six-track EP of songs featuring just him and his banjo. He's the whole package: crazy talented, handsome as can be, and a really nice, kind, and humble guy. You can find the full-length album "Out of the Canyon on Crutches" by Jameson & Co. on iTunes, as well as other music outlets, and the acoustic banjo EP "Pronto" on Bandcamp. Below are a couple of videos to give you an idea. The first is one of the more hard-rocking tracks off of "Out of the Canyon on Crutches" and the second is a song off of "Pronto."
Jameson & Co.: "Gun Full of Bullets" (Live Version)
Jameson: "Surprise" (Live Session)
I'd heard of Questlove and the Roots in the past, knowing only that they were a highly-respected, critically-acclaimed hip hop group that had been around for eons but had never made it big, but I didn't actually seek out their work until I read the profile on Questlove in the New Yorker, which is just about the whitest and nerdiest way to decide to check out a hip hop group, but there you have it. I'm now in the habit of checking from time to time to see if they've done any new fun things with Jimmy Fallon and I spend the whole time watching Questlove. I just think he's cool, okay? I like how comfortable he looks in his skin, like he doesn't need to try to be anything other than himself (that's really unusual among musicians!), and how there's a quietness to the way he holds himself. There are lots of great videos out there of him talking about music and he's obviously an incredibly intelligent and eloquent person who puts a tremendous amount of thought and effort into what he does. AND he has a deep voice and I love deep voices! What's not to like? Anyway, it was in pursuit of Roots clips that I watched the version of "Blurred Lines" performed by Jimmy Fallon, Robin Thicke, and the Roots on classroom instruments. I can't say I care much for the content of the song, but it is very catchy, and I think this version is really a lot of fun. Also, Black Thought's replacement rap is great! If I find myself needing a little pick-me-up, I trot over to YouTube to watch this video and then I feel better. (I also like Jimmy Fallon, The Roots, and Miley Cyrus' a cappella version of "We Can't Stop.")
Jimmy Fallon, Robin Thicke & The Roots: "Blurred Lines"
Dogs
Dogs, of course, are always a major part of my life. I acquired two new dog-sitting clients this year, Cutie the Great Pyrenees and Goldie the Golden Retriever, and said farewell to Sweetheart, the wonderful German Shepherd, when she moved to Texas, and again when she passed away at the end of December. (All dog names are changed to protect their privacy.) Here are some of my favorite photos of all of my dog-sitting clients from this year:
Mr. Gorgeous
Mr. Gorgeous
Lady
Lady
Sweetheart
2002-2013
Sweetheart
Sweetheart and Cutie
Cutie
Cutie
Goldie
Goldie
And then there are my favorite photos of 2013 of my own dog, Abbey…
And since I love to take photos of dogs, I've really been loving Pack, a photo-based social network for dogs. It's always the first thing I look at when I get on the internet and I spend a fair amount of time specifically taking photos of Abbey to post. My friends are very tolerant of the number of photos I post of Abbey on Facebook, but on Pack I don't have to worry about being dog-obsessed because I fit right in! I've noticed that while there are plenty of blurry camera phone shots, many of the posters who are drawn to Pack have considerable photography skills, like the people behind Barney, George and Boston, Hawkeye and Lark, and Captain, to name just a few. (There are also lots of photos that are just plain cute and don't get me wrong, I love those, too!) If you've got a pup that you love to photograph, I encourage you to join Pack, track down Abbey-6, and I'll track you back!
Of course, I also have my favorite dog blogs/dogs on Facebook! A couple of new faces join the list from last year.
Foster dog Moby of
"Our Waldo Bungie"
First up: Our Waldo Bungie, found here on Facebook and here in the blogosphere. Our Waldo Bungie (pronounced with a hard "g," like in "goat") documents the life of foster dogs taken in by a couple and their two pups, Rufus and Turk. I've got a serious crush on Moby, the current foster dog, so much so that I will be very sorry when he's adopted, but the credit for the huge crush on the dog must go to the woman behind the the scenes who helps bring the dog to life online. I'm sure he has very much the same personality in the flesh as he does in his photo captions and blogposts, but I suppose the real live Moby doesn't actually write you back if you comment on his Facebook page. I know that Emily, the lady pulling the strings, will be able to work the same magic with future foster dogs, but no one has as long a tongue, as big of ears, and as bright of eyes as good ol' grass-eatin' Mobe-a-Lobe.
I've also become a fan of Oh, Melvin (Facebook here and blog here), which documents the life and times of a sweet and patient Lab named Melvin and a googly-eyed gargoyle of a French bulldog named Jake. I gotta say, it's Jake and his outward-facing eyes that keep me coming back--I wouldn't necessarily want to own him (the people at their local Poison Control recognize the family's phone number and say, "Oh, is this for Jake?"), but his exploits are extremely entertaining to read about! There's his love affair with the rug and his other love affair with his brother Melvin's butt and his tendency to get stuck staring at the wall and his difficulty in mastering the Wookie-sack… There's always something funny going on with that guy around!
And speaking of dogs that I wouldn't want to own but whose exploits are extremely entertaining on the internet…it's Rude Dog! Rude Dog is an Old English Sheepdog mix who will do anything for food: when I say, "will do anything for food," I don't mean he'll do tricks, I mean he will trash your kitchen. He's got a Facebook page called Rude Dog's Trashcapades which is regularly updated with photos with funny captions. ("Maybe YOUR beard is tracking in mushy leaves…ever think of that?" is one of my favorites.) He loves tacos and peeing on garden apartment windows and rearranging the furniture and barfing on the bed after his mom has had a hard day at work. He also has a large stuffed trout named Clarence. What's not to love?
Oh, and Betsy & Pups, who made the list last year, has added a French bulldog puppy named Norm to the pack! Betsy, I am sorry to report, passed away this year, but with Norm, Lottie, Lola, Dewey, occasionally Argus, and a rotating cast of fosters and friends around, there's a steady stream of charming updates. You should totally check them out if you want fabulous dog photos in your Facebook feed!
I've taken nearly 18,000 photographs with my DSLR this year. Those numbers were driven largely by my fascination with insects and mushrooms (I look 800 mushroom photos on a single day back in November), but lots of plants and animals caught my eye, too. The following are some of my favorite photos of 2013, broken down by category. Remember, you can click on any photo to see it in a larger format!
I add photos to my Facebook photography page nearly every day, so if you love what you see here, stop by and become a fan!
And the Thing I Liked Best in 2013 Award goes to...
The thing this migraineur with gastroparesis loved most of all in 2013? Liquid gabapentin. Gabapentin is a drug I've taken daily in capsule form for nearly four years now to reduce the frequency and severity of my migraines. In October, my neurologist switched me to the liquid form, the theory being that the capsules were not breaking down properly because of my partial stomach paralysis, as my migraines had become much more severe after the onset of gastroparesis. I found that with the liquid solution, not only did my migraines improve significantly, my stomach function improved significantly, too! Suddenly I had energy, was able to eat a wide range of foods, could tolerate changes in the barometric pressure, my mood improved, and my migraines decreased. Prior to the change in medication, 2013 was definitely in the top three in the Worst Year of My Life category. Since I've been able to end it on a good note, Worst Year of My Life is off the table and we can settle instead for A Really Hard Year During Which I Took a Lot of Cool Photographs.
I like this self-portrait I took
for my birthday in 2013.
I've had some decline in wellness over the course of December, but am still much better than I was prior to changing some of my daily doses of gabapentin to liquid form. I hope I can retain enough energy and have enough low-pain days to do all the dog-sitting that is on my plate in the coming months, but even more so because I desperately want to do some writing. I've posted relatively little on this blog in 2013 and most of my posts have been photo-based; it's not from a lack of things I wish to write about, but from an inability to write because of cognitive difficulties brought on by both the migraines and the digestion issues. It's very frustrating for me not to have this voice and I fervently hope to use more of it in 2014. I'd also like to get some new lenses for my camera, including a birding lens, but beyond that, I don't have big plans. To be as well as possible, to do as much as I'm able: that must be enough, and thankfully, it usually is. I hope that you had much to like in 2013 and that 2014 is even better!
