Not Rory
We know that our dog Rory is a mutt that's usually taken for a pure-bred Lab but weren't sure what she was mixed with. I met a walker on the trail who said that her friend had a Lab/Border Collie mix that looked just like Rory. I Googled the mixed breed and found some convincing photos. The dog pictured above, also a female named Ruthie, has the same chest and paw markings as Rory, as well as the floppy ears that Amy loves. On another site there's a description of the breed's traits that rang some bells:

Collies are very athletic and have great endurance, but a Lab Collie mix is slightly less energetic as well as being slightly less intense. ... They are medium sized dogs, so should not take over your entire house and as they are medium-haired dogs, they only need a minimal amount of grooming.

A slighty less energetic and intense Rory.

Awhile back I made passing mention of the new age mindfulness movement which recommends that we derail our train of distracted thoughts and concentrate on being "present" in the moment. Here's an example of the approach from Oprah's web-site:

Many of us sustain a high level of mental "noise" so that we won't fully experience the difficult emotions of fear, anger or sadness. Getting still requires being willing to experience these feelings without doing anything in the short run. You don't have to do anything in the stillness except fully acknowledge what you are feeling, without judgment.

That "noise" is our internal monologue which, mercifully, usually preserves us from morbidity, except at 3 a.m. Judith Warner weighed in on the trend last week:

It has dawned on me lately, meditating on the Metro, thoughts silenced so completely that I can hear every page being turned by passengers up and down the car (I am above reading — I am present to myself) that being fully in the moment, all senses turned on, feeling your hands in your lap and the ground under your feet, is a very good way of not being there at all. For me, this is a big part of the charm of the whole thing. I mean, it’s a lot easier to feel a loving connection to others — to the madding crowd, that is — when you’re entirely checked out. ... I’ve also come to wonder if something desirably human is being lost in all this new and improved selfhood. That is to say: an edge. That little bit of raggedness that for some of us is really the heart of what makes us human. Shave that piece off, soften it too mindfully, and I wonder if we don’t leave others out in the cold.

Inter Milan manager José Mourinho.

The American species of football coach is a curious character, often overweight and disheveled, who stalks the sideline with a play sheet and a comically large headset — like Parcells, Belichick, Reid and Holmgren. The European species, like the game, has evolved differently. Its epitome is Mourinho, 46, the confident, handsome, polyglot tactician who catapulted to the top of the soccer world when he won the 2004 European Champions League title with F.C. Porto in his native Portugal.

In 2003 Porto won the UEFA Cup, defeating my favorite team Celtic FC of Glasgow. Inter play Manchester United today at 2:45 Central on ESPN2 in the second leg of the Champions League knockout round of sixteen. The competition runs from August until May but only gets interesting during the elimination rounds. One of the many beauties of soccer is that the manager has little control once the game begins. He can stand in a small "technical area" on the sideline and yell instructions (suggestions?), but play continues with few stoppages and he is allowed only three substitutions.
Celtic midfielder Paul Lambert (R) holds back Porto's Ricardo Carvalho(L) in 2003's UEFA Cup final, which Celtic lost by a silver goal in Seville. REUTERS/Jeff J Mitchell

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGu_R-vUCxs&hl=en&fs=1] While listening to music yesterday (on Lala naturally), I followed some links to get information about Joan Wasser (aka. Joan as Police Woman) and turned up a 2006 interview on the unfortunately named Music Slut. It's a great site despite the name and had some reflections by Wasser on Morrissey, one of her favorite musicians. The site also posted a current interview of Moz (his new album was released this week) by the excellent BBC host Zane Lowe. Click on the YouTube screen to view further installments of the interview:

TMS: I saw Morrissey at the Apollo when he did a stint of shows there about 2 years ago. Joan: Morrissey, yeah yeah, I opened for him once, with Black Beetle. TMS: Oh really? Did you chat with Morrissey? Joan: Are you kidding? I don’t think his band had ever met him! TMS: [Laughter] Joan: You couldn’t get anywhere near him, I didn’t try. TMS: I kinda figured but I figured I’d ask. Joan: I didn’t try but I was told, everyone was told you couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t see him until he got on the stage. It was an amazing show, it was during his quote-unquote ‘Fat Elvis’ period where he was wearing all black leather. I really like his new record too, where he’s holding the violiln. TMS: Me too! Joan: He’s amazing, he’s unstoppable.

Flooded Trail

Omrom HJ-112
My usual walk with Rory sticks to the streets around our neighborhood and takes about forty minutes. With my snazzy new Omrom pedometer/pocket watch, I now know it's a shade over two miles. When I have the leisure for a longer walk, I'll take the Yankee Woods trail, which is a four mile loop I can pick up at the end of the block. Since the thaw, my exit from the trail has been blocked by flooding from an adjacent wetland. Retracing one's steps is frustrating and the trail might stay flooded until after Memorial Day.

My fellow die-hard on the trail (we were the only ones out there on a recent rainy morning) is an older diminutive Polish lady who shares my frustration. The difference being she did something about it. After grumbling about Cook County's negligence, she told me about a shortcut through the fenced golf-course that the trail encircles. A vehicle access gate just off the trail leads to the course's cart path and she'd marked the detour with trash bags attached to tree branches. Sure enough, there are two man-sized holes in the fence, one obviously cut long ago to judge by the rust. So until the trail dries out, we can carry on guerrilla hiking while dodging the occasional golf shot.

Hole In The Fence

Trash-bag Marker

The Cardinals returned to our feeder today after being absent since the beginning of the thaw last weekend. Foul weather friends. This makes me doubtful that the feeder will remain busy come spring. Only the bustling chickadees stuck around this week. During the long frozen stretch I had to refill the feeder daily. This may scale back to weekly when the weather finally warms up for good. There's snow on the ground again today, so it won't be anytime soon.

I'm a big fan of the Brazilian pop singer Bebel Gilberto, whose first album Tanto Tempo has just been re-released. Brett Singer of  the A.V. Club says it's a mixed bag but admits that:

The opener "Samba da Benção" is an ethereal masterpiece, "So Nice (Summer Samba)" is a three-minute vacation, and the title track melds creamy background vocals, light percussion, and quiet piano to create a fully formed Brazilian bossa nova dream.

There's no accounting for taste and some think this is elevator music. One commenter considers it a form of torture:

WTF? I've been tormented by this disc playing in the office stereo almost daily for years now. Is this review proof of a conspiracy against me? Have I gone mad? In fact, I once removed the disc from said office stereo and hid it in a jewel case that Quickbooks came in and the fucking thing still found its way home. This is unreal. I'm calling in sick.

Blurry Blue Jay
My photography was poor today but I was excited by the first sighting of a Blue Jay. It didn't approach the feeder, perching instead on a power line halfway down the yard. I was asking our house-guest Pat last week whether Jays wintered nearby, as I hadn't seen any. She assured me they did. I was able to look up the bird's description and illustration in the lovely Peterson Field Guide to the Birds Of Eastern and Central North America that Pat gave to me.

The outer fringe of Chicagoland suburbs is home to abundant wildlife, as was evident when we moved next to a Cook County forest preserve. We see deer every day at our fence and hear the frantic howling of coyotes at night. A Cooper's Hawk paid a visit to our back door. I've begun to walk our new puppy Rory along the paved (snow-covered) trail behind our house. Last night I ventured out at dusk before dinner. It's the last time I'll go there after nightfall. Just past the trail-head, we encountered a coyote about fifty yards off the path. It stared at us and didn't scamper. Continuing our brisk pace, I spotted another running ahead on the opposite side. This is a well-traveled trail, with packed-down snow from use by joggers, dog-walkers and skiers. It's within hailing distance of two major streets. Heck, I could see a Menards sign through the trees. Still, I was uneasy. Puppy Rory would make a nice snack for a pack of coyotes. Last  spring a large male cougar was shot on Chicago's North Side. More specifically, in nearby Wheaton, Illinois, the police department issued a coyote alert just before New Year:

Coyote Alert

WHEATON, Ill. – The highly adaptable coyote continues to flourish in the western suburbs within populated areas, mostly because of the interesting menu available in the form of dog and cat food, or easy-to-open garbage cans. Coyotes can survive on whatever food is available, from rodents to rubbish, from insects to fruit to carrion. They can be a threat to family pets. ... Keep small pets (cats, rabbits, small dogs) indoors. Don’t allow them to run free at any time. They are easy, favored prey. Some coyotes hunt cats in residential areas.

Yankee Woods Trail
We completed our family yesterday by adopting a beautiful black lab-mix puppy that we've named Rory. We've been reading dog-training manuals from Cesar Millan and Barbara Woodhouse (because I'm old enough to remember her). Labs are fairly easy to train but we want a dog that walks obediently and doesn't jump on us or the furniture. After less than 24 hours and several long rambles, Rory walks well at my side and, as an added bonus, sleeps overnight contentedly in a crate which she does not soil. We've yet to hear Rory bark. She approached our cat submissively in an attempt to get some attention but Mathilda isn't playing along. She's moved into the guest-room and hisses when Rory approaches. We are lucky enough to live adjacent to a jogging/biking trail through Yankee Woods, a Cook County forest preserve, which loops around the Dunne National golf course. The trail head (F) is just around the corner and, when it's not so snow covered, will provide plenty of exercise for yours truly and Rory.
Bringing Rory Home