Saturday, August 30, 2008

What Gives Us the Right?

Something quick tonight. I was looking at today, as I normally do, because that is one of my news places, and came across the following article.

There is something here that bothers me, and oddly enough, B and I were talking about earlier today in regard to wolves.

"But Shirley Kudma, who ranches in the basin with her husband, Donald, said the prevalence of plague confirms the predictions of ranchers overrun by prairie dogs in the past decade. They argued more should have been done to limit the spread of prairie dogs because the hungry rodents strip the ground of grass and leave little for cattle.

'Nature took care of it, didn't it?" Shirley Kudma said. "There's the plague and the prairie dogs, and that's nature taking care of the expansion.'

Ranchers don't want to wipe out prairie dogs, she said.

'I think we want to get along. We want to be able to survive just the same as the prairie dogs want to survive. We don't want to annihilate them. We don't. Just get them under control so they're not sick. Give the ferrets something healthy to eat.'"

Ok, here is my problem with human beings. We seem to think that as long as we are surviving, it doesn't matter what we harm. Who cares if we wipe out populations of animals (once extinct, they are NEVER coming back people), as long as our cattle (that do immeasurable harm to land) have enough to eat and don't get killed.

Back in the day, all of the wolves in the Yellowstone area were KILLED on purpose. ALL of them. Even BABY wolves. Why? Because ranchers were upset that wolves were killing their animals. Well, I'm sorry, but I don't agree with killing an ENTIRE breed/species of animal so that a few heads of cattle are saved. The fact of the matter is that wolves are a very misunderstood animal. But in the long run, they were in the area long before humans, and long before humans were raising cattle. I understand that people have to make a living, but one or two dead animals per rancher a year is worth keeping a beautiful animal alive.

I will give credit to this lady, who says ranchers don't necessarily want to wipe out prairie dogs, but I do not agree that just because she has cattle, that means it is necessary to cut back on the number of prairie dogs. Let them make a comeback. If it wasn't for humans in the first place, they probably wouldn't need to be making a comeback.

You know, we have a pond on our property. We like to keep it looking nice. However, the Canada Goose loves to make a stop at our pond daily. In fact, it's gone up from like 3 to 20 in the recent weeks. They are annoying...they poop everywhere... People have actually told us to shoot them to get them off our property because they are so gross. But...why? We let them stay, or we chase them away. No need to kill. When that starts, I believe things happen that make it hard to take back.

Who knows if I'm really making that much sense (I'm kinda tired). I just hate knowing that humans have had such a profound impact on so many species of animals going extinct...and it seems that some people truly believe humans have a right to make them go extinct. I just don't understand it.

Friday, August 29, 2008


There are a few reasons why I started blogging again. The first is that I've always been someone who does her thinking at night. My head hits the pillow and I don't fall asleep. I think about all the things I need to do or that are bothering me. Writing in my journal was always good for that - but - I can't find my journal right now because it's still packed in a box somewhere and who knows when I'll find it. Blogging helps me organize my thoughts and get them out there...similar to the way my journal once did (although I don't put down nearly as much personal stuff online as I always have in my journal).

The second is that I really loved blogging before. I blogged for several months. I liked to give people an idea of what was going on in my life and put it out there. It was fun - until a family "friend" found the blog and made extremely mean and thoughtless comments on it - thinking she was "helping" me.

The third is probably the most important. And it is that I am hoping that blogging will help me get into writing again. A dream I have had pretty much my entire life is to write a book and have it published. It's gone back and forth between being a fiction or non-fiction book, but the dream to have something published has never died. When I was young, I would write a lot. But I normally didn't get past the first few pages of my "book" (which was often a copy of Sweet Valley Kids, just with triplets and changes in names and scenarios), before starting another one. When I began skating, I ran out of spare time. I got so wrapped up in skating that I stopped really writing, with the exception of my journal. When I quit skating and went to college, I chose Creative Writing as my focus within my English major. I sturggled at times with this choice. I didn't always like the restrictions, and I hated more the critique (of myself and having to critique others). I did finally bang out a few short stories though. Even more though, I felt like I found my poetic voice, and began to write a lot of poetry. I was especially proud of 2 pieces I wrote, so I decided to submit one to an on-campus magazine. I was rejected. It was an awful feeling. Now, if I had actually taken a look at the types of things they published, I would have seen that my piece certainly didn't fit in their magazine - but at the time it was just about the fact that I was rejected (seriously though, who doesn't get rejected on their first try?). So, I didn't try again.

When I went to Grad school, I was all about writing something about my grandfather. He was an amazing man who I loved dearly, and that summer I had discovered love letters between him and my grandmother that I wanted to expand upon. I got more information - but I just couldn't ever get myself to organize my thoughts to start - they always overwhelmed me and it just never happened. And then my dad died. I lost all desire to write after he died. I think in some ways, I became scared to write because I wasn't sure what would come out - my dad's death was a turning point in my life - a time that was more painful and difficult to deal with then I care to think about. I didn't want to relive it anymore then I already was. One day, I'm sure I'll talk more about my dad's death on here. But the point is, that I stopped writing altogether.

Now that I've had time off - time to think and relax - not to stress so much, I realize how much I miss writing. How much I want to realize my dream of getting something published. This blog is a way to help me get my creative juices flowing again...and I already feel it happening.

B thinks at times that I spend too much time online. But right now I think it is needed and beneficial. I feel myself bursting with ideas and a desire to put them on paper (now I just need to figure out how to organize them best). I'm hopeful that I'm getting started again so that one day I'll open up WORD and the words will flow. I think I'm getting there...

We got her!

We got her! We GOT HER! I don't have much time to write, as I am headed out to another training session this morning... but... I saw her yesterday morning and she was hungry and attention deprived. Seemed B was probably right when he said she was hunkered down hiding from the rain (of course I don't have such a sunny outlook, so I think the worse)... I messed with her for a few minutes, but had to leave, and ended up being late anyway because I was so stuck on the fact she was back and wanted to make sure she returned...

I called B on my way in and let him know I had seen her, so when he got back from work, he set the traps...and waited. I came back and he hadn't seen her all day... and I went out looking for her and she didn't come out again. Grr... I thought, but she had to know we had food. She'd be back.

Well, this morning B comes crashing in... "I GOT HER!" I think I fell off the bed I was so surprised (at both what he said and the crashing in). She is sore on her foot from the trap. We don't know how long she was trapped, so that isn't good. But she is in the kennel. And by goodness if she doesn't stay in there this time I think we've got problems.

Thanks for all the good lucks!! :)

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Frustration #2

Is it totally wrong that a person decides to take time off work? I left my job in June after much discussion with B. We both felt it was for the best. My job required I live on-campus (I worked at a university as a Resident Director), which wasn't feasible for us anymore obviously, because we wanted to buy a house, but mostly because I was incredibly unhappy in my job. I was overly-stressed and was no longer passionate about the work. It was taking a toll on me that anyone could have told you was visibly unhealthy.

What gets me though, is you would think that me not having a job is the end of the world. When I first told people that I was quitting and didn't have another job lined up, I couldn't believe the reaction. People who knew me or barely knew me - the same thing. They couldn't hide the fact it was obvious they felt I was DUMB. I could hear the questions they were asking and see the underlying meaning behind the comments they would make to me. Who doesn't work nowadays? She'll never make it. She must have money. Does she?

I experienced this again and again. And again today 2.5 months later. I had to attend a training today for a class I am teaching (see, I'm doing something), and of course, we had to do the required introductions. Well, in order to be introduced this time, we had to pair up and our partner got to introduce us. My partner proceeded to ask me what position I held at the university. I told him, "Well, I used to work in ResLife, but I quit this past year. Bought a house and getting married and I couldn't really live in anymore...". Blank stare. "Oh," partner says. "So, what title am I supposed to say for you?"

Uh, duh. How about...Wolf recently left her job in ResLife and is quite alright with that? Anyway, to make HIS life easier, I told him that I was thinking of going back to school, and would be substituting during the coming year once all my paperwork was through. He proceeds to tell everyone that I AM going back to school and that I retired from my previous position in order to go back to school. Ugh.

Even my mom and family, when I've told them I'm not totally sure what I am going to do (and I am job-searching and have a plan - it's just not something I stress over): "But, Wolf, how are you going to afford the house and bills?" When I first decided to quit, my mom asked me every single time we talked whether I had any job offers. I kid you not. "No, Mom." I'd say, getting more and more frustrated every time... Why do I have to continually reassure you that I am fine. I've been on my own for a very long time and know more about my financial situation then you. Trust me. For once. How many times did I have to tell her, and others that I wasn't worried, so why were they? Apparently, they were seeing something I was not, or just thinking I was competent enough to make my own decision?

What's so interesting is:
1) I'm 26. Don't you think I'm smart enough to think about bills and other issues that will come with not having two incomes? Don't you think B and I went over bills, etc.? Come ON!
2) Should I have staying in a job that was causing undo stress in my life - where I wasn't happy - that would have made B and I live a part, just for a small paycheck? I was always very open with the fact I would be substituting if nothing else came up, and that would provide us with tmore then enough money to have some to spare.

Probably what got me the most was when I went to the Doctor. My female Doctor. She asked me how my job was going and I told her that I had left because I felt it was best. She asked me what I was doing sinice I had left. I told her I didn't know. I wanted to take some time to rediscover my passions and figure out what was going to make me happy. I was taking time of - and eventually hoped if B and I had kids, that I would be a stay at home mom. "Well," she said. "That's not a very good idea. You will cause great problems in your marriage because your husband will become resentful that you aren't making money - but are spending it." Oh, I thought. isn't like B and I didn't talk about it. I trust he'd tell me in one way or another if this was a problem (by either flat out telling me or just being a pain in the behind about the fact I wasn't doing enough until I got it :P. And we talked about it after this interaction again, and he again reassured me that he was ok with what we decided). She continued to tell me that really, unless I had 3 kids, it didn't look good to be a stay at home mom. People didn't understand it. I felt like saying EXCUSE ME? Who are you to say that I have to have 3 kids to stay at home? I was really quite unhappy with this interaction - with my doctor of all people - who only knows anything about me because she looks at my chart. Half the time she can't remember if I'm married!

I sometiems think that even though women have made great progress over the years in terms of not staying home and being able to work, we are now looked down upon when we shoose not to work. Let everyone make the decision that they feel is best for themselves and their family. Only they know what is best really, as they are the ones living that life. They certainly aren't trying to make the feminist movement take steps backwards...

I am teaching a class and advising students from that class. I also plan to substitute teach. I like this plan because it offers flexibility that has been needed as we have moved into the farm and been working with the animals. Am I still looking for and applying for jobs? Yes - as I find ones I am interested in. And I am very greatful to be able to be so laid back in this search and not have to worry. I know that not many people have that leisure or ability.

So get off my back! And remember when someone tells you they aren't working, that it is their life choice. Don't judge them!

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


It's been 48 hours since Cynder last showed herself. I'm not sure what to think. I guess it could be because of the rain, but making excuses just doesn't seem right. If she was hungry, she'd be here, regardless of weather. Not knowing where she is is honestly breaking my heart and has just made all the frustration we went through at trying to catch her worse. The traps would arrive on the day she disappears...just seems to be our luck with this whole process... I just feel so helpless at getting her back...and moreso now that I have no idea where she is. :(


We will finally have bedroom furniture on Friday! They are delivering it in the afternoon when I won't be here (sad), but when I get back, I'll be able to unpack my clothes! YAY! This is incredibly exciting for me. After 3 months, I'll be able to find my clothes. I have no idea what I'll do with myself!

Haven't been outside yet because it has been raining all day. Crossing my fingers that Cynder returned in the night though...

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


I was going to write a whole long thing tonight, but just can't seem to find the desire. The traps came today. Cynder, has not. I guess I'm tired of getting my hopes up. This is the first day since she got out over a week ago that we haven't seen her. I'm tired of thinking we might finally have a chance, only to be disappointed once again. It hurts. At this point, I'll be surprised if she is here in the morning. Of course, I'll hope, but I'll probably only be disappointed again...


This is one of about 50 gazillion reasons why I love all my animals. They can make you smile just because they are relaxing. Maggie here, decided she was tired and thought that the trash can lid was a great place to relax.

I just thought it was a place she looked cute. :)

Monday, August 25, 2008


I stepped on the scale this morning after not having stepped on it for a week. It read 117. I stared at it in disbelief. There was no way I weighed that much. Last week I weighed 107. I decided to try again. It read 119. And again. 121. I think, there must be something wrong with the scale...and decide to buy a new one while running errands today.

I get home and weigh myself on the new scale, and it reads 105. I breathe a sigh of relief. Ahh, I think, that seems right. Time to throw the old scale in the trash. Worked for about 5 years, so I can't complain. I get to thinking to myself do I know which scale is actually right? I guess, I don't really. But in the long run, why should it really matter? Why do I have to care what the stupid scale says in the first place?

I know the answer, I just hate thinking about it. 12 years ago, when I was a figure skater, food and weight overtook my life. It is interesting to think that before then, I always ate whatever I wanted and never thought about it. I hardly ever weighed myself. But one fateful day, I got injured and shortly thereafter my grandfather died, and somehow I gained a few pounds...and the reaction was almost as if I had grown four heads.

I remember shortly before this, my mom had said to me at Christmas when I was eating a piece of pumpkin pie (always my favorite), "are you sure you should be eating that? M might not be able to lift you." (I was a pairs skater). I thought she was crazy. But I believe that comment had an effect on me, as did the one my one coach infamously said, "Pair skater's shouldn't weigh more then 100 pounds, if that," after he found out that I weighed around 114. Oddly enough, I don't think I had weighed 100 pounds since I was around 10 or 11. I had had a growth spurt, and I had been pretty solid at my weight for a good 3-4 years. The one that hurt the most though, was when my coach said to me "It's no wonder your feet hurt. You weigh too much." Ouch. All because I gained probably 4 pounds in a few weeks off.

I began to watch what I ate at this point, but felt like the weight couldn't come off quick enough. Especially not with weekly weigh ins and the comments rolling in. So, one fateful night after I felt I had eaten too much, I stuck my fingers down my throat. I knew it was wrong, but it was my secret and I felt oddly proud of myself. I kept doing it, although not in any obsessive way. If I wanted to eat something that wasn't a part of my diet, I would...I would just throw it up later. This behavior continued for probably two months. I eventually told a friend, and she told my coach, who took me to a therapist. I hated this therapist. She talked down to me. What I really wanted was someone who could tell me how to eat right again...I couldn't remember how. So, I eventually ended up at a nutritionist, who outlined an eating schedule for me. I followed it to a T...but found ways to cut corners and basically ended up starving myself. I was so rigid in what I ate. Kept track of every calorie. Memorized the calorie content of all my foods. Food was the center of my universe.

I got down to that 100 pounds and had no energy left at one point. I made the decision to eat more and hoped to stay at 100 pounds, and found a way to do so. For several months, I was able to pull this off. But one day, after coming home from a competition in Russia, I binged. And then I binged the next day and the next day. I weighed myself and freaked out. Not being logical, I of course didn't think about the fact that of course I weighed more because I was bloated. I began to try and make myself throw up again. I couldn't. So, I searched online for ways to help, and I found them. But the cycle had started and I couldn't stop binging and purging. I got worse and worse, and eventually sabotaged myself. My parents found out. Everyone at the skating rink found out. It was a miserable time.

I ended up in therapy AGAIN. And again, I HATED it. I lied to my therapist all the time. I found ways to hide what I was doing and I knew she would never know if I was telling the truth. Anyway, this went on for several months. I hated the way I looked and felt, because in this vicious cycle I had gained 25 pounds and couldn't stop gaining. I didn't stop until I made the decision to stop. I have to credit D with helping me with this because he came in to my life and told me I was beautiful no matter what. I don't think I could remember a time when someone had felt that way about me...or at least took the time to tell me.

I stopped close to 10 years ago. But that doesn't mean that I am still happy with the way I look...or that I don't have a miserable time of it. I don't believe I will ever have a "normal" relationship with food. It is almost impossible for me not to think about how eating a piece of cake or an extra serving at dinner will impact my matter how hard I try. I have made it several months without weighing myself, only to step on the scale and be shocked at my weight...or look at pictures and hate what I I begin to restrict my eating again. There are even those times when things are going badly for me and I feel so ridiculously bad, that my first thought is to hurt myself in this way (purging)...because it does hurt. Luckily though, I have always won that battle because I know how badly I don't want to go back there...the hardest thing to break is the constant desire to restrict...which is a daily battle when I don't feel happy with myself.

I am actually happy with myself right now, as this is the weight I feel best about myself at. However, I don't necessarily think my body likes it best at this weight. I have low energy at times and more aches and pains...and I bet if I wanted to have a kid right now, there wouldn't be enough fat on my body. B, bless him, tells me he thinks I should gain weight. He likes the pictures of me from a few years back when I had a bit more meat on my bones. I just have to find the mental piece of mind to get there, and feel ok about me when I do get there.

Probably the most positive thing that has come from this experience is the fact that I understand what so many young women go through anymore. And I have been able to be there to talk to them and help them through it. I can recognize that the only way they are going to change is to want to change...and that they need someone to listen...someone who has really been there...not just someone who has studied the underlying issues (sorry, but you have no idea what you are talking about).

I've resolved that until after the wedding I need to stay around this weight (already had my fitting), but after that I may try to gain a few more pounds. I did gain some from earlier in the year when I was WAY too underweight, but it is a slow process. I'm at least going to try and eat more for breakfast and lunch, and see if this helps with my low energy (or else I guess I will have to go to the doctor and get tested for other fun problems).

It isn't easy being so tied to a number. It sure isn't easy to explain the fear that comes when that number goes up. I wish I could go back to the days when it didn't matter. For now though, I'm working to show my mind that feeling good on a whole is better then just "looking" good (to oneself). What does it matter if you look good, if you don't have energy to really do much anyway?

Life shouldn't be ruled by numbers. One day, I hope to believe that.


So, B comes home from work yesterday and says..."you need to see this." He leads me over to the window and I look out in the pasture and there are two new horses in the pasture. Uh? He said that they were just standing outside the pasture when he drove up the driveway and he let them in. These horses appear to be ones that were on the highway last week that someone was trying to figure out who they belonged to (and then they disappeared). But...we have no idea who they belong to. Interesting thing is that when a person loses a dog, there are a million places to post on the internet/ways to help the dog get found. But, it doesn't seem that way with horses. We are going to try our best to find the owners and keep them in the pasture until then. If we don't find them...I'm not sure what to do. They are pretty though, huh?

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Sloppy Joes

Tonight in the Wolf Lover household we had Sloppy Joes for dinner. Sloppy Joes are one of our favorites, and I make them about every other week. They are quick and tasty and not made from a can. I used to make them all the time for my staff at my old job, and they went over well with everyone, except for those that didn't eat meat... :)

I thought I'd share the recipe, as it seems that a lot of people just use Manwich anymore, and I don't think you have to do that. It take just about as long to use Manwich as it does my simple recipe.


Ground Beef
Brown Sugar
Worchester Sauce
Sandwich or Hamburger Buns


Cook meat until done. Drain off fat. Add ketchup, brown sugar and worchester sauce to taste.

Ok, so I know I don't give any indication of how much you should put in to the recipe...but I don't honestly know. I do it until it tastes right. I can tell you this much put in A LOT of ketchup and about 3 tablespoons or so of brown sugar. I usually count to 10 while pouring in the worchester sauce. This is all for 1 pound of meat. The important thing to note is that you need enough ketchup to cover the meat. Then add some worchester sauce to thin it up and make it a bit more runny and the brown sugar to add some sweetness. I'm sure you could probably add veggies too if you would like (I don't). I used to make this for 20 people to have several servings and imagine what it was like to cut back the first time and get the mixture right.

Good luck, hope you find the perfect taste, and sorry if you don't. You won't know unless you try though!

Frustration #1

Ok, so I deleted my last post, which was a wild rant that didn't really seem to make any sense at all... I probably shouldn't post when I am in moods like that. I used to write in my journal when I was upset/angry/frustrated, but I can't find it still and I go through periods of journal writing. Who knows. So, if you read my last post, sorry. If you didn't, you don't have to worry about it now, and can be glad you don't have to read it.

I will admit there are some things I am currently frustrated with and would like to point is the first.

As I've mentioned, I have tons of animals and my animals mean the world to me. I hope to at some point talk about all of them on here to give an idea of my loves. But anyway, on to the frustration. This past year, B and I got a very high-content wolf puppy, which is something we both wanted for quite some time. Our first attempt ended in heart-break, which I won't really go in to. Our second attempt is our beautiful and loving Kaos. He is approximately 98% wolf. A lot of people will say you can't really talk about percentages when it comes to wolfdogs, but in this case the breeders knows the histories of his animals back to like the great-great-great grandparents...we have the lineage of ours. So I can be pretty confident when I say that he is that high (his dad is full-blooded wolf). Things with Kaos have been going extremely well...if anything, I wish we would have been able to spend more time with him as a pup when we first got him like we did our first puppy, but the time when we got him caused us not to be as diligent as we probably should have been. But I digress. He's a good boy.

B and I had been talking about getting a mate for Kaos...maybe for breeding, maybe not, but in part because he is currently bonded with my chow mix Jasmine, who used to be an indoor dog until she became Kaos' babysitter. I, selfishly would like Jasmine back in the house with me, and I believe she would like that too. :) Well, not too long after these conversations started, Kaos' breeder called us and asked us if we wanted another wolf pup for free. He had two females left and he needed to get rid of them before they got older for fear they wouldn't get socialized well enough. These pups were 6 months old and probably the thing that did it for B and I, were sisters to our original wolf pup. So, we went up and got her.

We decided to name her Cynder and she had a pretty nervewracking trip, but we figured she would settle down once in the kennel with Kaos and with some time to adjust to her new surroundings. Well...she got out of the kennel within the first 16 hours of being in the house. We looked everywhere for her to no avail and were pretty heartbroken. There was really no chance she would return to a place she didn't know, to a pack she hadn't bonded with. Nine days passed with not a trace of her, and suddenly she shows up again. I get her in the kennel, call B and am scared to lose her again. In fact, I believe I am in shock that she is in the kennel at all, because I truly believed I would only ever see her again if she was hit on the road or shot (and someone called us because of her tag). B spends most of that night putting a roof on the kennel so she can't jump out. She tries constantly when she hears new noises/sees new people. This is not surprising for a wolf pup that has not been socialized properly. (I would not recommend getting a wolf pup at this age is probably best that you get them around 2 months of age so they can bond with you when they are very young). I figure that once I get to spend some time with her and show her that it is fun to be with humans and she gets yummy treats and ooooh so good belly rubs, that she'll get better. And believe me, I am willing to put in the time.

Well...I go shopping the next day, happy to see that she hasn't gotten out at night. Seems the roof is working... And then I return and wouldn't you know I see only Kaos in the kennel and he is looking up at the roof like uhhh. I can't believe it because Cynder has jumped up, pushed aside boards and fencing, and managed to escape AGAIN. I am in disbelief. I'm scared she has probably run off again and that we won't see her yet again. But before I can get too upset, I see her behind the kennel. The only problem is, this time she knows what will happen if she comes in the kennel (how I got her back before...tricked her in and shut the door) and she isn't hungry like she was before.

I spend all day trying to get her back. B comes home from work early to try. We spend the next day trying...all to no avail. Another bad thing about getting a wolf pup at 6 months that hasn't been socialized properly...they are skittish and don't come over to humans because they aren't sure what to think. Now, she lets us get close to her, and waits for us to feed her, but anything that has four walls she stays away from and we can't get quite close enough to grab her.

And this is where it starts to get really frustrating for us. We feel that the only way we are going to have any chance to catch her is to tranquilze her through the food because we just can't get her any other way. She is staying around and we are lucky for that, but how long will it last? How long before she goes across the riverbed and gets a chicken, or wonders into the street? We call the vet as a last resort...and they tell us sorry, but we haven't seen her, so we can't help you. Well, that's interesting. We haven't had her in a kennel long enough to get her to a vet. Otherwise she would have been there. We try another vet. Same thing. And another. What is sooo frustrating is that two of the vets are ones that B and I have been using for years. My vet in particular I have been going to for 4 years and have taken NUMEROUS animals to over the years as I have rescued them and taken them to the farm. I can't believe that no one will help us catch a dog that is on the lose. And this continues to be the theme. They tell us to use Benadryl (sorry, doesn't KNOCK a dog out cold like a tranq), to use a trap (um, they are too smart for this, but we tried anyway, and what a waste of money as she never went near it), not feed her (well...maybe this would be ok if we weren't near other farms and fear that hunger will lead her away and possibly to kill one of their animals), etc. We have explained time and again that this is not working and we just want to catch our dog. No one will help.

It continues to be frustrating, and I believe that this week is our last chance. We have unfortunately had to resort to ordering foot traps. If this doesn't work, I know what our next step will have to be, even though I don't want to admit it. What we have to face is that the longer she is out, the less Cynder will be socialized, and the more chance we are taking that she will run off and get hurt or hurt a farmer's animal. Time is so critical right now and I just can't believe that when a person needs help getting their animal seems like it doesn't matter. It is so frustrating to be so close to catching her and far. We have really tried a lot. B made a net to try and trick her on to it. We used the trap. We have tried to be patient to get her to trust us by feeding her. We have tried to trick her in to buildings and the kennel. I even gave her Benadryl but even though it made her tired, she still woke up when something moved toward her. We are out of ideas after the foot traps unless somehow we can get tranqs, which I don't see happening.

Can you see why I am so frustrated with this?

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Pork Tenderloin

One of the things I've been doing more since I quit my job is cooking. I've always had my standard fall backs that I make, but I never really had time (or the desire to cook for one before) to try new recipes. I've tried a couple so far this summer, and some have been successful, and others not so successful. I tried them before I started blogging again though, so I'm not posting the recipes until I try them again. Ha! But really, I've been trying to cook more to save money from eating out, which gobbles money like no other and is actually quite bad for you!

This month I've been discovering the joy of my crockpot as of late, and thought I'd share a recipe I tried tonight.

1 (2 pound) pork tenderloin
1 (1 ounce) envelope dry onion soup mix
1 cup water
3/4 cup red wine
3 tablespoons minced garlic
3 tablespoons soy sauce
freshly ground black pepper to taste

Place pork tenderloin in a slow cooker with the contents of the soup packet. Pour water, wine, and soy sauce over the top, turning the pork to coat. Carefully spread garlic over the pork, leaving as much on top of the roast during cooking as possible. Sprinkle with pepper, cover, and cook on low setting for 4 hours. Serve with cooking liquid on the side as au jus.

I found this recipe on and I enjoyed it. I think, if anything, it was a little too salty...even though I used lite soy sauce! I would make it again though, as it is easy and quite flavorful. Pork tenderloin is already good like that, but this just added to it. I served it with rice and put some of the sauce over it, and corn on the cob (only because we have so much corn right now we are eating it pretty much every other night as our vegetable...). I then made strawberry shortcake for dessert (nothing the recipe off the Bisquick box!).

I think I might have gained 10 pounds today and most of it was from dinner (and the fact I can still barely move and haven't really been exercising....).

If you have any yummy recipes you think I should try, let me know...I'm all for it!

Friday, August 22, 2008


I recently catfished for the first time. I must is an interesting experience. I've fished for quite some time now...and am used to constantly reeling in the line and casting back out. With catfishing, you have to just sit and wait, which, while nice, can also be very anti-climatic.

Probably the most interesting things I learned while catfishing? It is almost impossible to get a hook out of a catfish once snared. They swallow the dang things and they get stuck...which means they get their heads chopped off (not a fan of this) and can't get tossed back in like we normally do with fish. Did you know when you cut off a fish head, the fish keeps breathing even though it's dead? I can't say that was a fun thing to learn...

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


Last night B and I actually watched part of the Olympics. It is strange, because typically I watch non-stop...I guess the busy life of the new house and the animals has kept me from really watching this time.

In my past life, I was a figure skater with dreams of going to the Olympics. It was something I dreamed about for years...and was a dream that probably could have been attained had I stuck on the path. I've realized since I quit (almost 10 years ago) that the dream never really dies. I'd give anything to go. I actually get quite emotional still when I watch because of the fact that it was something I worked for for so long. So, I guess as I was watching last night and seeing people cry at their performances...because on that one day they didn't do what they could have done...I didn't really feel bad. I know it is a let down...I remember the days of competitions and hating the feeling of knowing if only you had done this, or landed that, that maybe you would have won like you were supposed too... But these athletes are getting the opportunity to participate in something that so few people get to participate in, but that so many people dream of. I sometimes think that maybe that is forgotten in the quest to win gold. The experience is should be enjoyed over everything else. I wonder how many of the athletes that are there really realize how lucky they are?

I would like to give props to Shawn Johnson though, who despite the disappointment I am sure she was feeling at not winning gold, continued to talk about how she won silver and was so grateful for being able to do so. It is not easy for anyone to do that, much less a 16-year old who had the weight of a country on her shoulders.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Ever Notice...

how when you take a spill/get hurt, it sometimes seems that it can't stop happening? Well, that seems to be this past week for me. I am not normally accident prone, but in the last 7 days, I have been bucked off a horse, drug by a dog, bit by a wolf, stung by a bee and stubbed my toe on a curb. I am in quite a bit of pain, I will say, and cannot believe that with a month before the wedding, I decided to get so banged up. I am crossing my fingers that the scabs and scars disappear beforehand... So, I have been making my way around with a sprained ankle, scraped up arm and hurt back from the horse incident...and wouldn't you know that two days later I have Kaos out in order to help bring Cynder back and he gets freaked out by one of the other dogs, bolts and takes me with him. I just so happen to fall on my face and scrap up my arm in the SAME spot, and create more scrapes on my hip and leg. Ha. Well, if that wasn't enough, in the process of trying to get Cynder back, I jokingly put my hand out with food in it...never thinking she would come and take it out of my hand...but yup. So, now I have a huge thumb and cut down my thumb. And well, I guess bees decided to add to my pain and stung me. And then today, I stub my toe. Soooo, I guess the fact I haven't been so accident-prone caught up with me this past week...and I'm starting to think, maybe I should stay inside for a few weeks in order to be ok...

How many people can say they've been bitten by a wolf? Not too many I would guess. :) I won't gross you out and show you the pictures of my other injuries... :)

Monday, August 18, 2008

Trying again...

Ok, so a few years back, I started blogging and was the very UNHAPPY recipient of some extremely rude comments. So, I stopped blogging. I've decided to give it another try, and am asking that if you have nothing nice to say, don't say it...and stop visiting my blog. Thanks. I'll be back to actually blog later, but duty calls...
Related Posts with Thumbnails