Have I mentioned that I HEART my dog?

I mean, look at that face? What isn't there to love?

The latest cuteness on this adorable pup has to do with his efforts to win over my cats. Truth be told, Bangs and the nameless kitty hate the dog. I mean they HATE him. I often feel a little sorry for Tag. He is a gentle sort of pup. But occasionally he deserves their ire and derision. After this past weekend, though, he'll have to do something pretty heinous, like try to maul them, for me to think he deserves it.

We have a long hallway in our house. At the end, it turns a corner to the bathroom and the "cats' room," also known as our study. There's a baby gate up in front of the study so that the cats can retreat there and so that Tag can't go digging for buried treasure in the litter box. (Yuck!)

Sunday evening, the typical scene unfolds before my eyes. Bangs comes down off the cat condo in the living room and makes a sprint down the hall for the baby gate, puppy close behind. Instead of hearing the usual noise of a cat flinging itself over the gate, though, I hear... nothing.

Noah and I get up to investigate. What we find at the end of the hall amuses us. Bangs is crouched in the bathroom next to the toilet and growling. Tag is lying down outside the bathroom, nose on the ground and stretched out towards the kitty, sniffing.

Noah favors breaking up the incident, but I want to let it play out a little. I step over the puppy and into the bathroom to sit down next to Bangs. Noah stands in the hall next to Tag. Fifteen minutes or so go past in which Tag scoots close enough to sniff Bangs and gets growled and hissed back repeatedly.

Then something happens that neither Noah nor I could have expected. Tag gets up and walks away. Bored? We hear him go into his crate in the bedroom, presumably for a toy. When he comes back, I can't tell what he has brought with him. He walks straight up to Bangs and presents him with... a doggy biscuit! He is SO proud of this biscuit. He picks it up again, walks into the hall, puts it back down and barks at it, a playful puppy bark.

Noah and I are amazed. I take the biscuit and break it so that Tag can have some and Bangs can have some. Bangs sniffs interestedly for a moment but the biscuit's been in a dog's mouth so he's not about to actually consume it. Tag happily munches his part of the biscuit and then finishes Bang's untouched bit while Bangs looks on grouchily.

I can't stand it! It's so cute how much effort he made to make friends in that moment. Of course, half an hour later, he chased the cat back down the hall and over the gate again, Bangs's tail fluffed in terror... but he's trying. And I'm hopeful that he will succeed.

Puppy Love

This is the newest addition to the Kauffman family. Tag (Montague L Kauffman or MLK) is a joy, a bouncing baby collie full of energy and love and expressiveness. We have been greatly enjoying the time we spend with him.

We've also been greatly challenged. Patience and a fine tuning of communication skills and expectations are easy to wear thin when you get home from a long day of work, or when you are the only one who has been home to clean up after the puppy. Learning how he works and what he thinks and how to teach him the ways of life in a house as a well-behaved pup has stretched Noah and me more than I expected. I'm expectant that we will come out better people on the other end of this puppy stage of life.

Keep your eye out for Tag in the future. I have high hopes for this brilliant little fluff ball. Some good training and attention should make him into quite the performer! I'll keep you posted on his growth and progress.

This photo was taken on his homecoming day, February 7th, 2009. Tag was 9 weeks old.

Memory Lane

Some people are probably deliberate about their posts. Most likely they plan out exactly what they are going to say, well crafted, articulate. I blog like I live my life... by the seat of my pants, straight from the hip, into the wind... I can't do it any other way. I apologize if you find me hard to follow.

For some time now... I'd say a good 4 months or so... I've been catching up with old acquaintances on Facebook. I'm utterly amazed at how many random people from my past keep cropping up in unexpected places. It's the miracle of the age of social media, I guess. (I could digress here, but I'm going to try to stay on topic.) I've been on Facebook a while now, and, as typical with any technology, now that the star is fast burning out finally the "main stream" is beginning to catch on to the trend. More and more people keep cropping up.

There are those I am so overjoyed to reconnect with, and those that I choose to ignore, and those that choose to ignore me. Whatever, be well and happy... we're all on to the next stage of life anyways.

And yet, I find that the more people I hear of, see through other friends' photographs, catch snippets of reminisces from... the more depressed I become. Out of the fog of my past comes this memory that... I HATED high school... I was MISERABLE, lonely, depressed, and had no self-esteem. I mean, I had friends... but I'm remembering how utterly uncool I was, how much of a fringe kid, how awkward and unaccepted. Even my best friends had better friends than me.

I'm not sure what kept me from really engaging in life during that time, but I think I spent most of my childhood in an imaginary world. I don't really have many memories, souvenirs of my past to look back on. What is so terrible about that now is that I'm reminded of it through my total absence in most of the pictures that my childhood friends are posting. Granted, there are still a few out there... pretty sure I'm not a vampire, I show up in photographs and can see myself in mirrors.

I find myself sad, wishing that I was a bigger part of someone's happy memories of their youth. And yet... I don't think I'm even a part of my own memories. My heart aches for the lost years of my life.

The thing is, so much has happened in my life since then. I moved across country. I came out of my shell and connected with myself and with others. I found a wonderful man who loves me for all the stupidness and awkwardness that is me. I'm by no means a person who loves myself and accepts all people no questions asked... but I'm closer than I was before.

So I'm disconcerted by the way that seeing everyone else remembering how fun high school was and what dorks we all were then makes me want to curl up in a ball and never speak to anyone again. We're all SO ON to the next phase in our lives. What is it that I'm not letting go of?

Published!

I wanted to share an article I wrote for the CA&ES Outlook Magazine (College of Agricultural & Environmental Sciences alumni publication)

An earthy undertone
Viticulture and enology graduate helps a family winery go green

For Sarah Cahn Bennett, making good wine is a way of life.

Bennett grew up on her parents’ Navarro Vineyards winery in Anderson Valley, in Mendocino County, California. Her parents started the sustainable vineyard in the 1970s with the perfect Gewürztraminer, Pinot Noir, and Chardonnay their main objectives. As their business grew, so did their selection of fine wines. Riesling, Pinot Gris, and Muscat Blanc joined the lineup, and children Sarah and Aaron became part of the Navarro team. After achieving a bachelor’s degree in business administration from St. Mary’s College, Bennett set her sights on a master’s degree in viticulture and enology at UC Davis.

“Sarah knew exactly where she was going to go, exactly what she was going to do,” said viticulture and enology professor Doug Adams.

Adams’ research into the development of tannins in the skins and seeds of red wine varieties was a good fit for her interests. Bennett and her fellow students collected wines from California, Oregon, and Washington and compared the phenolics of the wine, including tannin which is found in grapes and wine. Bennett then began to look at how that research could be incorporated into winemaking methods.

Bennett now applies this knowledge to Navarro’s selection of Pinot Noirs. Her research helps the winemaking process, and adds a scientific scale to taste and perception.

“We measure many of these wines so that we have real number comparisons between areas,” Bennett says. Other Anderson valley vineyards use the results of Bennett’s assay to articulate what makes wine from their region unique.

Part of what Bennett believes makes Navarro Vineyards special is its commitment to sustainability. Along with avoiding the use of herbicides and pesticides on their land, Bennett has introduced a flock of Babydoll sheep to the vineyard. These miniature sheep have been extremely effective in controlling unwanted plant growth beneath the vines. The sheep, too short to do any damage to the fruit or vines, clean out sucker shoots and weeds that would otherwise be very difficult to reach.

Bennett and her family believe that sustainability stretches further than the field. Navarro Vineyards is committed to employment practices that establish loyalty and a sense of ownership for their workers. All Navarro Vineyards employees are full-time members of the company with full benefits.
Bennett recognizes the advantages that her time at UC Davis gave her. “I feel like I now know a good portion of the people in the industry,” she says. “I always knew I wanted to be in the wine industry. UC Davis was the perfect opportunity to help make that happen.”
- Elisabeth Kauffman

If wishes were horses...

So I haven't written here as much as I would like. Maybe I should turn it into a resolution to write more... but that would ensure that I never did again! Ah well... I'll have to be happy with myself one day.

Something happened this week that has been a long time coming, and something I never thought would actually come true in my life. If you know anything about me, you know I ride horses once a week. I have been riding for the past year. It has been a life-long dream of mine to work with/ride/enjoy horses on a regular basis. Once a week has been great... and I'm doing it even though we really shouldn't afford it... because I need to realize this dream... more than I need to save money.

Anyhow, my riding instructor has been telling me since the beginning that I should ride more than once a week if I want to improve my confidence and skill. Not an option for me, because to ride costs money and we're already outside the budget to do this as much as I do it. I finished explaining that to her for the 1 millionth time last week, and she said she'd get back to me... that money shouldn't be the issue.

When she got back to me, my riding instructor had found a way for me to ride 3 days a week a wonderful Morgan horse named Omega... in exchange for labor. Basically, I'll grain and water 6 horses every day I'm there to ride, and help with other projects or blanketing horses when necessary... an amazing opportunity! So I'm going to ride more... and (*torture of all tortures* said with dripping sarcasm) I'll have to take care of some other horses basic needs 3 days a week.

When I think about how I have always wanted just this kind of opportunity since I was 5 years old... and how it is here now... I can't believe how lucky, how truly blessed I am. How amazing to live a life where wishes really are horses and beggars really can ride...

Heart on my sleeve

I can't help it sometimes... my emotions are a banner for everyone to read. In order to escape the inevitable interrogation, I have to run and hide.

I received a weighty compliment today in an area where I feel insecure at best... and had to leave the office so that I could shed my tears without embarrassment.

It's so gratifying when you put your heart into something to have it received so well... A little more work and it will be ready to share.

Holidays

Sadness squeezes through the cracks of life sometimes. Sometimes it rushes through in overwhelming torrents.

I love Christmas. I can remember it as one time in a year full of screwed up family life when my parents actually seemed like the parents they should be, and when us siblings banded together in hope of good presents and good food, and the fun of getting to see our cousins and run wild at my grandparents house.

We had multiple traditions. There was the Advent wreath and the reading of different scriptures pertaining to the birth of Christ (a grand tradition that most non-denominational churches miss out on). Each week another candle would be lit, and we would fight over who would get to use the snuffer.

There was the Christmas choir. Each year, our youth and handbell choir would practice and then perform musical selections for the season. Sometimes we acted out a play. I always sang a solo...

One of my favorite traditions was our "live nativity." For a week or so leading up to Christmas, every evening, sometimes 3 times a night, the youth from my church would dress up and act out the nativity story. We had a timed audio track narrated by my dad over dramatic Christmas music on loud speakers set in the trees. Certain songs still bring those memories back so strongly. We had musty costumes, robes and head dresses, staffs and a manger. Set up outdoors in full view of the busy street, we would walk through the story for the benefit of passersby. Sometimes I was a shepherd, sometimes I was Mary... always we were freezing cold by the last performance. There was usually hot apple cider waiting for us in the fellowship hall.

All these festivities led up to the climactic moment when we celebrated the birth of Jesus at our midnight Christmas eve service. All those activities somehow added up to family.

The sadness for me is... there is less of this now than there used to be... Living far away from the ones you love is not easy, and I feel very alone this year.

An ego is a fragile thing

So, I've been riding horses for a year... and god knows, I'm still a beginner. But nothing ever stings as much as an ego reminded.

Firstly, the horse I usually ride, Trevor, collapsed this week. No worries, everything is fine... apparently he was either narcoleptic or he was not in the mood to ride and so faked us all out by falling down on the ground and refusing to get up for 10 minutes or so. I panicked, of course, thinking I had killed him... or at least that he had died under my care. Neither prospect was something I was looking forward to having to reckon with. After laying on the ground for more than 10 minutes with his eyes rolled back in his head, my instructor waved a cookie in front of him, and he popped right back up.

Needless to say, I was shaken thoroughly.

Then today we went to volunteer at a facility that gives riding lessons to handicapped people. I was very excited about doing this, and happy to be of help. Each special rider has at least 3 people attending him: two along side and one leading the horse. Because I have been riding for a year, they had me lead a horse.

All went well until the end of the day... the rider was a little more advanced than earlier in the day, so we did some more advanced things, like trotting. I would trot with the horse and the instructor/leader of the facility and Noah trotted alongside to help the rider maintain his balance.

But something happened to spook the horse... and he bucked a little and knocked all 4 of us to the ground... yes the handicapped rider fell off the horse. Somehow I managed to hold on to the horse, and pop back up to make sure he didn't take off willy nilly around the arena (there were others riding at the same time). It took 2 of us to calm him down.

The rider appears to have been unhurt, but scared (thank god he's not hurt)... Noah got stepped on a little... and I'm sore from being yanked around by a 1000 pound guinea pig. I'm so frustrated that my horse was the one that had the incident, and have felt like the biggest loser all day. How could I let that happen?

I'm trying to tell myself it wasn't my fault and things just happen. But I feel terrible, incompetent, foolish... and I almost quit riding right there. How does one not blame one's self for something like that? It seems useless to blame the horse... and not comforting at all to say "things like that just happen."

Anyhow, I didn't quit riding... I'm going in the morning... and hoping my bruised ego doesn't take another beating, or if it does that the beating will kill it so I won't have to mind any more.

Lord, make me humble and steer me clear from danger...

Whirling

The plants get neglected when it's like this. I can't stop for a moment to remember the things that aren't absolutely necessary. When I do stop, my brain just shuts down. There are things I know I should be doing, but I can't for the life of me remember what they were. My body whispers, "rest..." then screams, "REST!!!"

I have only one life to live... and so I cram it full of life. I don't want to put things off that I may never whirl back around to. The hurricane that is my train of thought barrels past and sometimes bits and pieces get lost in the process. Try as I might, I cannot keep them all in.

Confession

I just looked up through the window in my study here in our new home. Dusk is falling slowly on our sleepy little town. The curtains are drawn back so that the little gray kitty and I can look out at the back yard, and hopefully the rose bushes out this window that came with the house will come to frame it in time, adding a romantic touch to our little patch of earth. The sliver of an autumn moon is rising. She's still out there.

It's comforting to know that she, Luna, is still rising.

Confession: I had my faith in humanity shaken this morning.

My whole life I have always believed that every human being has something redeeming in them. Today, I saw a result of the basest aspects of human nature, and I wonder now, if such a person, who could commit such an atrocity, can have any good in them.

I met a man who breeds horses. He is amazing, gentle, conscientious, soft-spoken... and his breeding program is excellent. His horses are calm and gentle as he is, well conformed, superb specimens of their kind.

Through searching for the best of the breed to add to his program, this man came upon an equine tragedy that has left a lasting wound on my heart, a horse so badly abused that he has literally lost his mind. This horse had been the epitome of what a horse should be, so the man bought him sight unseen. Only when the horse arrived at the property did they realize that it had been broken so badly it could never be repaired. This gorgeous animal had been destroyed by someone trying, through every inhumane technique imaginable, to win a prize.

My eyes fill with tears, even as I type, thinking about the kind of torture that can leave such a lasting mark on an animal. It has been nearly 20 years since that horse came to live with the man I met today. He cares for it and provides for all its needs and it still mutilates itself, thrashing and screaming at the gentlest of human contact because of the torture it went through.

I can't comprehend what could lead a human being to press the boundaries of its own humanity and torture one of God's creatures that way... it is inexcusable to me... unforgivable... and fury rises from my chest, burning in my throat and stinging my eyes.

It takes divine grace, more than I have in my own broken heart, to overcome that kind of evil. I can't reconcile it in my mind. I reach out to heaven to ask for justice, and find myself confronted with mercy, and the need to break my heart again to understand it... God help me understand your mercy.

The only hope I find is in the compassion of the man who has taken this animal in, who cares for it even though he knows any efforts to rehabilitate the horse would be in vain. One day maybe I will be able to walk that path, not seeking to be vindicated for injustices done to me or to other innocents, not even seeking a triumphant end to suffering (because one does not always exist), but quietly seeking to offer mercy to those who need it desperately.

The moon, huh?

To quote a favorite author of mine, "the moon is always female." She's something I rarely look at anymore. Sometimes she seems so far away. I'm always focused on the ground, trying not to trip while I'm walking, only looking at the step in front of me.

But that's where I'm going. That's the metaphorical goal... the moon. After pondering my blog entry yesterday I realized that the big picture, the moon, is good for the soul. She reminds you, me, us, that we're on a journey somewhere, hopefully somewhere we WANT to go. If not, maybe it's time to change direction.

It's easy to get lost in the details, the politic day-to-day "to-do's". Slowly I drown in self-pity and narcissism as I forget why I started off on this journey in the first place. So many things that are "good" may not be taking us in the right direction, or may even be going in the right direction, but then begin to steal focus from the passion that gave us direction at first.

It's easy to be busy and to find excuses not to look at her. But she's always there, even if a cloud obscures my view.

Tonight... maybe even while I'm listening to the debate... I think I'll take time to look up... contemplate that silver orb who so encapsulates my dreams.

Character building

I am here... that phrase just floated through my consciousness... a bit of worship... I am here.

I had a character-building episode during the past 7 days. It was a bit of a shock for me, actually. I mean, I have "impeccable" character, right? Right....

This week I found myself faced with a choice that I don't like to have to make. I had to choose a direction, for better or worse, for my "career". I'm still not convinced I have a career... but as of Monday, I have more of one than I have ever had before.

I know what you're thinking. How can a lowly admin assistant be so full of herself as to believe she has "a career"? I've never considered myself a career person. It's not that I don't work, it's just that I never cared what direction my work took. I'm flexible. I can do anything, be anything, learn... just about anything. It's a chameleon personality that has worked well for me my whole life. I take whatever opportunity falls in my lap and don't question it. It's a gift, right?

Well this week an opportunity fell in my lap... and thanks to my wonderful husband's faith in me and his knowledge of my passions and abilities... I did NOT take that opportunity. Better pay... who needs it? Management opportunity... not interested!

You have to understand how HARD this is for me. I always opt for security, and usually don't press to live up to my potential. It's too risky. I've grown to accept mediocrity grudgingly.

But this week was a turning point. Instead of taking a better job in a career path that I would grow tired of, let's face it, before I had been in it 9 months, I chose to remain in an assistant role with a group that wants to encourage my abilities and highlight my skills in an area of work I've always wanted to pursue.

Eggs in one basket? Yep. Birds in a bush? Probably. But the chances are pretty high that if I never shoot for my dreams I'll never attain them. So... one tiny step at a time... I'm on my way to the moon.

It's a wide eyed wonderland we live in

As any sheltered youth coming out into the world we call California will tell you, eyes the size of dish plates are a dead giveaway. You gotta train yourself not to get a crick in your neck from whipping around for a double take at the latest weirdness traipsing by... and believe me, it's harder than it sounds! For all I'd like to have you believe that I'm a seasoned veteran, used to all this outer space style gallivanting, I still catch myself mid-stare and wonder if anyone noticed how completely un-PC I was being just then.

It's been a long time...

I haven't blogged in years... I got tired of it, I think... or distracted... I dunno... anyhow, we'll see how I fair now that I have need. I have taken on a writing assistant's job that is requiring me to oil my rusty joints and get out there. That being said, this post will hopefully be my most boring, although... the way I ramble, you may end up disagreeing.