The Days Only Look Shorter!

Whew! Sorry to have been away from the blog for so long -- but I've spent much of the time right here in front of the computer. It's been a busy time for Web site updates. If you want to see what I've been up to, have a look:

• Val's Avalon Beardies Web site


• Val's Showstopper Web site (still a work in progress)


• Vacationland Dog Club


• BCCA 2009 National Specialty Web site


• ...not to mention a Twitter feed and a Facebook page for the Specialty


• Updates to Greg's Web site


• Updates to the BCA Web site


• Updates to the Prospect Dog Training Web site


• Updates to the BCCME Web site


• and one or two pages updated on my own Web site.


• Plus I designed the latest print ad for POC to run in the Weekly Sentinel. I wasn't going to volunteer for that one, but Dale stared at me all through that part of the meeting until I said yes.

That's been enough to keep me out of trouble for a while. As for keeping me off the streets... well, it's just a shame I'm not getting paid for most of this work. In the future, I might have to change the ratio of paid to unpaid...

Not that I'm at all surprised, but the company I work for has just announced that it plans to lay off between 5,000 and 6,000 people. My peers and I are waiting (with dread) for tomorrow's conference call, in which our managers share what they know about our chances of surviving the bloodbath. I give myself a 50-50 chance of seeing the New Year. On the good side, I've just been assigned to one of the hot new projects that the company is depending upon (no pressure there!). On the bad side, they could up and ship all of our jobs overseas.

Please think good thoughts for me. Quite frankly, I'm scared to death.

Anyway, I can recommend a good, cheap Web site designer...

One of President-Elect Obama's campaign promises was to impose a penalty on US companies who ship jobs overseas, and a break for those who keep their jobs here. The bad news about that is that the layoffs are scheduled to start about 3 weeks before he takes office, and Dreamerica wasn't built in a day.

I can't help but think about the Great Depression, and the mess that FDR took on when he succeeded Herbert Hoover as President. The parallels between now and then are just too scary. My parents grew up during that time. To hear them talk about it, you'd think that they had the time of their lives -- but all those songs about money and how to get along without it were their pop culture. I grew up learning all the words to those corny old ditties, and lately lines such as "the rich get rich and the poor get poorer" have been coming back to me.

A Small Piece of History

I might have mentioned that I spent occasional evenings this past year doing data entry for the local Democratic office. Truth be told, I've been a proud Independent voter for many years now, and registered as a Democrat this year so I could vote in the state caucus. I just felt that I couldn't sit idly by and watch everything go down the proverbial tubes, so I went out and offered a little help.

On Election Night, the local office was positively electric -- and not as overconfident as you might think. The crew captains had CNN running on one of the monitors. Canvassers came in, reporting when they had been threatened, discussing some pretty nasty robocalls going around and whether to notify the papers, and picking up flashlights before heading out again.

Many stayed at the office long enough to take pictures of themselves and one another there. They knew that win or lose, they had helped to make history -- and they planned to keep little pieces of it to show their grandkids someday.

News of The Man

Greg has been putting the last finishing touches on the piece he calls Symbolist Minimalist. I'm not sure the title will stick, but the piece itself -- no matter what he calls it -- is one of the prettiest he has ever written. The piece calls for only three instruments: harp, viola, and flute. Greg's been in touch with a couple of harpists who have been advising him on how to make the piece more playable for their instruments, so each revision has been most productive thus far.

If I had to characterize this piece, I'd call it "Debussy and Scriabin Have a Picnic." It combines lovely, dense melodic and harmonic textures with sections of atonality that not only fit the piece, but provide the connectivity between the lush melodic sections. Am I giving anything away by mentioning that there's just the merest quote of "Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun" in there someplace? If Greg puts up an excerpt on his Web site, I'll blog about it. You won't want to miss it.

Even Some Knitting News

My friend Fran and I have been taking part in the occasional Open Knit up at one of the local yarn shops, Rosemary's in Cornish. I've made it most of the way down the foot of one of Dad's gray Scheepjes socks. I cast on the cuff of the other sock when I was in a spot where the light wasn't good enough to work the heel gusset, but I could still cast on a sock cuff in the semi-dark. Anyway, I have a couple of inches' worth of cuff on the second sock, so I can just jump back to that after finishing up the toe of the first sock.

I'm still struggling my way through The Friday Night Knitting Club. I'm afraid I'm not enjoying it any more than I've enjoyed my samplings of the endless collections of knitting-related mysteries and giggly, self-referential books about knitting. I'm trying to finish it, really -- but mostly I'm hoping that a giant monster from outer space invades the city and eats all the main characters. There's always hope, right?

Same Boulder, Different Mountain

Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part, but half the Twitter entries I've submitted lately have had something to do with making progress. Not that I haven't made any, but the list ahead is still so long, and the available time and energy to get stuff done seem to shrink more all the time. I'll get to it all when I get to it, but I sure wish I had a little more downtime coming to me first.

Seamus got his summer haircut...



...and he's loving it. He didn't wiggle all over the house with joy the way Charlie does when he comes home from his summer "shearing," but he seems happy and comfortable. I didn't want to clip his lovely coat, but there's no need to keep him in show coat. He'll be appropriately shaggy again by the time we start having cold weather again. In the meantime, Dinah has nothing left to pull, so she's not ripping his hair out by the mouthful at mealtime.

I feel guilty that I haven't done as much with the dogs this summer as I'd hoped. I had high hopes of working with Seamus and Dinah every day. Seamus's next rally trial isn't until the end of September, but we haven't been to a class in ages and we're probably both rusty. Dinah would be farther along with agility and obedience if I'd just take more time with her, too. It just seems that by the time I've finished with everything else, it's already dark outside and I've already blown my last wavering unit of energy.


Ta-Daaa! (Sort Of)

I actually do have some knitting news to report, but nothing one would call a huge triumph. I finished the Gigli scarf for my friend Susannah after months of just staring at the yarn and willing myself to knit. The bad news is that the scarf is barely more than an ascot, and I need to find more of that particular ribbon yarn. I'm hoping there's some left in the bargain bin at Marden's where the other two balls came from. Otherwise, I'm going to need to get imaginative with what I have.

I'm off to do a little data entry for the Seacoast Democrats this afternoon. They turned out to be better at not taking no for an answer than I was at saying no, so now I volunteer for them a couple of times a week. The work itself is easy and doesn't last long, plus I don't have to call people or knock on doors. It's not that I couldn't find more uses for the couple of hours I spend with them, but it helps everyone a little -- and a change of scenery is often helpful, too. It's not exactly a week in the mud bath at a mountaintop spa, but it'll just have to do for now.

Adventures in Caucusing

What IS a Caucus-race? said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that SOMEBODY ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.

Why, said the Dodo, the best way to explain it is to do it. (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (the exact shape doesn't matter, it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no One, two, three, and away, but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out The race is over! and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, But who has won?

This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, EVERYBODY has won, and all must have prizes.

But who is to give the prizes? quite a chorus of voices asked.

Why, SHE, of course, said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, Prizes! Prizes!

Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one a-piece all round.

But she must have a prize herself, you know, said the Mouse.

Of course, the Dodo replied very gravely. What else have you got in your pocket? he went on, turning to Alice.

Only a thimble, said Alice sadly.

Hand it over here, said the Dodo.

Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly presented the thimble, saying We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.

Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could.

--Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

When Lewis Carroll wrote about the Caucus-race, he was deliberately satirizing the political process in England in his time. Oddly enough, a real caucus-race looks pretty much identical to the one he described, except that there weren't any birds and I never got a thimble for a prize. I did bring my knitting, anyway.

Because I'm an Independent, I've never declared membership in either political party. This means that I've never been able to participate in primaries or caucuses in any of the various states in which I've lived since reaching the age of 18. I pretty much expected that The Man (a registered Democrat) would be able to caucus today and I'd have to stay home, awaiting the results.

Come to find out, Independents may participate. We have to register as Dems for the day, but we may change our party (non-) affiliations back again afterward. This seemed like a small price to pay to a chance to stand up (literally) for what we believed in.

I packed up my knitting and Greg, and we slogged through the latest installment of snow to the local elementary school. Even though we were in the midst of the 428th snow storm of the season and there wasn't much room to park at the school, we managed to find plenty of space. Crabapple Cove is a town of roughly 2500 souls, and probably 60 of those are Democrats. Oh, excuse me -- 58 are Democrats. The guy standing behind me and I were the Independents in the crowd.

One of my neighbors greeted us as we walked through the door into the school gym. She indicated that we needed to join the check-in line before we could do anything else. We complied, got ourselves checked off on the voter rolls, and I filled out my yellow Democrat-for-a-Day card.

That was when things started to derail, though. About halfway through the very slow line ahead of us, they ran out of forms, so we were unable to fill anything out. The line to fill in ballot signatures was only a few people deep, but it didn't move at all. What's worst: they ran out of coffee. I felt sympathy for the poor guy who was attempting to run things. It was his first time at running a caucus, he didn't have many people available to help him, and no one else in the room appeared to know what to do, either.

Greg and I made it as far as the ballots and signed some, then took our seats. Our host introduced himself, solicited help from the crowd, and asked for volunteers to speak on behalf of each candidate. The volunteer who manned the laptop with the videos and monitored the ballot sheets read a statement from our state Representative.

Meanwhile, we were treated to a running commentary from a couple of crusty old farts sitting next to us. "Volunteers are great people," one of them said to the other. "I ain't one of 'em, though."

"Volunteerin' don't pay too good," replied his companion. "Who'd want to take a job that don't pay?"

"Nope," agreed the first one. "That don't make no sense."

After much discussion both at the front and at the back of the room, it finally came time to exemplify that old cliche "stand up and be counted." The Obama supporters lined up on one side of the room. The Clinton supporters lined up on the other side. The three Undecided voters clustered together in the middle, looking a bit like prey animals waiting for an attack from a predator.

The harried man-in-charge did his best to count the number of supporters on both sides, gave up, and had us count off the way we did in grade-school gym class. Meanwhile, supporters for each candidate approached the Undecided voters and tried to persuade them to declare support for one candidate or another. One Obama supporter left to join the Clinton side. Greg emerged from the restroom and joined the Obama side. Two of the Undecided voters left their neutral territory in the middle of the gym, one for each side. One lone Undecided voter remained. The woman standing next to me waved to her husband across the room. "We were undecided until we got here," she told me.

Next, we all sat down again. The man-in-charge read the numbers from his tally sheet, and declared that Obama had won three delegates to Clinton's two. Next, we needed to separate again to choose delegates and alternates to represent the town at the state (and possibly the national) conventions.

"When are the dates of the state convention?" called someone. "June 10th?" "No, not June 10th. It's three days." "When is it again?" It took a great deal of scrambling, but eventually the dates of May 29 and 30 and June 1 were retrieved and offered up. Just then, three more people came into the gym. After some argument, it was decided that the three latecomers could join their respective sides, but that a formal recount wouldn't happen, since some people had already left the building. Two latecomers left the Undecided area to join the Clinton side. The last latecomer kept the other lone Undecided company in the middle of the room.

Eventually, delegates and alternates were chosen for both sides, and people returned to their seats to pick up their coats. The man-in-charge asked people to donate money toward the refreshments and to the Clean Election fund, and reminded people to sign the ballot sheets. Folks were already streaming out the door to brush off their cars and fight the snow on the way home. This whole process had only taken about an hour, but it felt like a week. I sent a text message to Dale to let her know that we were done caucusing. Assuming the weather ever improved, we were free to meet her and Val for a beer.

I later heard from Dale that her experience caucusing in her town was vastly different. Although it sounded like fun being able to chant for your candidate to convince the Undecideds, their caucus involved standing in long lines in the snow and move-your-vehicle requests from the local constabulary. They didn't finish until 4. Dale volunteered to be a delegate to the state convention, so she can do some more chanting for Hillary. It worked for her town's Undecideds, anyway.