Homemade Gifts are the BEST!

I celebrated a birthday this past weekend. According to Rand, the "kidz" usually let him know what they want me to have and he sets about making sure I get it (what a guy!) Apparently this year they wanted me to be able to have some spending money at Nationals (smart animals!) so Rand go creative. These were enclosed in a brthday card, signed by all our animals. I just love Rand's attention to detail (note Calle and Torti resing on a basenji).

Anonymous said........

.........My Basenji is having heart problems,,,slow heart rate (40) and high blood pressure...have had her to University of Fla, they have her on meds but meds are not helping..any suggestions?
August 15, 2008 2:28 PM

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8/18/2008: Dear Anonymous - I have no way of contacting you. Please send your email address so I can get in touch with you.

What's up with these poems??

Growing up I always enjoyed writing, mostly trying to write little rhythmic poems whose words rhymed, creating a kind of cadence. Sadly writing became an infrequent companion as life got in my way; that has a way of happening. I’m looking to get back into things I enjoyed as a kid, which means revisiting the past. Some early attempts are logged under August.

I AM ASHAMED

I am ashamed to be white
A common thread with those who fight
Fight they do for all delusions
Bred in them by parents confusion

Skinheads, bigots, Ku Klux Klan
Reduce our nation with their racial brands
Adolf Hitler, David Duke
These are the people we don’t rebuke

For the world that will grow
From the hatred that they sow
Which makes it hard to find a place
Where racist problems can be erased

Is this the America in which we pride
Where liberty and justice is just a lie
Because these people “preserve” the whites
They take away minorities rights

Why must color determine fate
Why must color give or receive hate
Why must humans seek the differences
Why must color have such significance

Can this earth rise above
Instead of hate breed more love
For if we can’t the “heaven” we’ll find

Won’t be the one we have in mind.

©sinbajé1965-2008

____________________

I was living in a small midwestern town when I started the above poem. The town, with only a handful of minority people even living there, experienced a number of cross burning incidences. At one point members of the KKK, or those offshoot radical groups came to town to rally. While it was not largely attended, I just remember feeling very disturb by the whole thing and needing to record my feelings.

Pesky Candles

We begin our little birthday fable
Gathered ‘round the family table
Where one little girl, we call Deveau
Patiently waits to start the show

Amid balloons and party hats
(Being careful of those curious cats)
Momma carries the cake all alight
Mouths start to water; who wants the first bite

But wait just a second the cakes still aglow
Hoping for the traditional blow
So give us a moment and let us see
If little Deveau will remain at three

Or can the air that she’ll store
Be enough to blow out four
She huffs and puffs and lets it go
Well, well what do you know

Deveau has done her very best
And put those pesky candles to rest
Family members now shout with glee
Deveau is no longer stuck at three

Off she goes to magical four
A whole new world she’ll need to explore
And so we end our birthday tail
In time to send it off by mail

Here’s wishing you a special day
And wonderful things to come your way

©sinbajé1965-2008

_______________________

My niece Deveaux (spelled Deveau at that time) was getting ready to celebrate her 4th birthday. I thought it would be fun to send her something personal, along with money. This was my attempt. I have to admit - getting it ready for blogging, a mere 13 years later, I did a little tweaking; as ever, never satisfied with the final result. Could be why I am not an artist. :O) The artwork was drawn today using my very archaic paint program and a mouse.

One Wayward Bird

Well, well I should have known
You’d want a poem all your own
So climb up here unto my knee
And I’ll tell of how you came to be

A stork began his yearly flight
One hot August night
In his mouth a precious bundle
The first delivery he chose to bungle

Though clearly marked for “The Palace”
The stork heads west into Dallas
Towards a family he likes more
For royalty is SUCH a bore

Gently wafting through the air
The cargo landed in our care
Wrapped inside you wouldn’t believe
Our very own Princess “E”

Of course this was too long ago
For Momma, Pappa and sister Deveaux
To recall all that occurred
Beginning with one wayward bird

This is where I must end
For now I have a card to send
Wishing to you, Echo Marie
A very happy number three

©sinbajé1965-2008

___________________

As the beginning of this poem attets to - Echo's mom and dad felt she needed a poem too so as not to be left out. I have learned over the years - whatever you give one child, you most assuredely should give the other. Like Deveaux's poem - I might have tweaked it from the original. The artowork was drawn today using my very archaic paint program and a mouse.

Relative Size

You’re making a mistake his friends would say
If you don’t allow him in the game to play
Come on coach just give him a shot
To prove to you, all that he’s got
So he’s small in stature, what’s all the fuss
He’s got more to offer then any of us.
With his lightening speed and agile grace
To not let him play would be such a waste
‘Cuz his quiet strength and inner resolve
“To be the best, a step above”
Serves him well in all that he tries
And makes one forget his relative size
What better lesson for one and all
To succeed in life you don’t have to be tall

©sinbajé1965-2008

______________________

A special man in my life would tell me stories about how, growing up, he was often overlooked by football coaches due to his being shorter then the other players. You could tell it kind of hurt - this was my way of letting him know "I understand".

Mi Madre

Mothers are great
But you’re the best
Fun to tease
Silly in jest

With lots of hugs
And kisses to spare
I never doubted
How much you cared

For 40 years
You’ve been “the bomb”
A Loving wife and
My awesome Mom

So here’s to you
On this special day
May love and laughter
Head your way

©sinbajé1965-2008

___________________

I beleive this was Mother's Day 2005. Sometimes I get tired of the same old cards, so when I am feeling creative - this is what I do.

Calle

The air, surprisingly calm amidst the speeding cars, stirred little on the debris strewn road. As we passed the 23 mile marker my eye was drawn to a twitch of movement in the middle of the four lane street. As we slowed to get a better look, the black fuzzy ball twitched again.

"Do you think it's an animal?" asked I.
"Without a doubt." said you.

By this time we were blocks away so we quickly turn the car around to get a better look. Cars, oblivous to potential life inches from their wheels, continue to speed by as I dart across the busy thoroughfare, quickly gather up the black bundle and return to the car. Are we too late in our rescue efforts?

"It's an animal alright." said I. "Looks like a kitten."
"Yep. " said you.

As though realizing it was safe to move, the black ball slowly unfurled itself, blinked its hazy green eyes, and burped out the most pitiful sound an animal could lay claim to; "mawr". Apparently we had ourselves a slightly dirty, apparently unscathed four week old (or thereabouts) kitten who mewed a little stronger with each passing minute.

"How do you suppose such a thing got into that busy road?" asked I.
"Dunno." said you.

"Well, I reckon the momma cat was transporting her kitten to a new home. Perhaps she got spooked and dropped him. Er....her." said I, having just looked under the tail.

"I reckon she did." said you as we manuevered back into traffic. With the unexpected addition, we head towards home.

As usual our basenji brood met us at the door; within seconds their usual greeting became more frenetic, bounding off my pant leg, snarking at each other when another got too close; they knew I had something cradled in my arms and they wanted a piece of it. Very casually I sat upon the couch and using my leg as a guard rail, slowly presented their newfound 9 oz "sister" for proper inspection. The more cautious boys stood further back, stretched their necks like horizontal giraffes, and very carefully gave the newly crowned Calle (that's Ki-yay to all you Northern folk; Spanish for street) a quick sniff, while I gently remind them, "Leave it. Easy, leave it". Calle, as evidenced by her ability to survive being caught in the middle of a busy four lane road at a very tender age, handles the boys with ease, never moving a muscle not even a blink, leaving the boys bored and disinterested. They give up and head for thier beds.

Not so our youngest, who at this time was only about 5 1/2 months herself. More curious then her older brethen, Feigh was very interested and less respectful of my leave it commands. No giraffe necking for her; she pushed her way past my barricade, stuck her nose in Calle's face, opened her mouth, exposing some lethal looking needle like puppy teeth and Slurp! claimed Calle as hers.

Thoughtful Thought #4

"God always answers our prayers, but sometimes the answer is no." - Kirk Douglas

Thoughtful Thought #3

"A great many people think they are thinking when they are really rearranging their prejudices."- Edward G. Murrow

A Gift Exchange?

“A gift exchange? Or pick a peck of wild peccaries.”

Now you might think being barkless would make a basenji useless as a watchdog. Not true. Surprisingly they make good watchdogs, as long as their owners pay close attention to what they are saying in their unique, silent way.

Friday evening as I was working on the computer Feigh, kept coming over and biting my pant leg and saying “Rawr, rawr”. I paid her little mind, as this behavior is nothing new, especially when she feels attention should be focused more on her and less on work – which is 95% of the time. I knew if I ignored her long enough she would eventually settle down.

A short time later I went to the kitchen for a glass of water when Tre ran to the back door leading to the garage and began some serious snorting and snuffling. At 12 years of age Tre is not one to waste energy on random floor rummaging so I was immediately alerted to a possible garage intruder. I quickly snatched up my ‘poking stick’ and called out to Rand, “Hold the dogs”.

“What’s a poking stick?” you ask. It’s nothing more than a 3-foot high, ½-inch round PVC pipe that is capped on one end. The other end is also capped but has a 4-inch blunt end screw attached to it. Its original purpose is to be set into the ground so that the pipe becomes free standing. I then use the pole as a visual marker in which to send the dogs away from me when training for obedience. When off duty the pipe becomes my ‘poking stick’, a trusted friend and protector against the likes of wild and mighty javelina.

With stick in hand, I cautiously probe through a small crack I’ve made with the door, looking for signs of life. I try valiantly to turn the motion-activated light on but to no avail - apparently I need to be standing on top of the sensor, waving madly for it to sense me!? My brief one-eyed inspection of a mostly dark garage shows signs of trash and recycle pillaging. I still cannot get the &%$#@ light to turn on; I must risk life and limb and actually step into the garage. I begin to slap my stick to the ground liked a crazed sightless person, brusquely chanting, “Move it, piggy. Moo-ve it piggy”. I then step into the unknown.

The light, once asleep, awakens and illuminates the mess; banana peels, bean cans, and water bottles strewn every which way. Making my way around the various cars, still slapping and chanting, I call out to Rand, “Its all clear.” Rand steps out to assess the damage. At that very instant we both notice, amongst the carnage, a pretty pink can, complete with bow and small card, sitting on top of an empty box. I start to laugh as my imagination unfolds; could those rather large, smelly peccaries have left us a gift, in exchange for their quick dumpster dive?

As though reading my mind Rand looks at me; shakes his head. "You think?”

Thoughtful Thought #2

"Angels fly because they take themselves lightly" - unknown

Thoughtful thought #1

"Even when the sky is heavily overcast, the sun hasn't disappeared. It's still there on the other side of the clouds." ~ Eckhart Tolle

New frontier...

Welcome to the hounds of silence - where the hounds are not silent, and neither am I.

Join me while I venture into this new frontier.