Winn herding

This is Susane Hoffman, our wonderful herding coach, with Winn at a June trial. I knew that Winn was ready, but I wasn't, so I asked her to handle him for me until I felt 110% prepared. His first try wasn't successful, but the next day he worked really well, qualified and placed. It's interesting how much confidence this actually gave me.

In the Zone

The summer agility trial season is in full swing and we're all pretty happy about it. Maggie is staying home when the weekend trial is AKC or USDAA and I think she is none too happy about that, as this has happened two weekends in a row and this past weekend was also a road trip without her. It's hard to convey to her how much I miss her when she isn't with us, how much more bored she'd be to be at a trial without any of the fun, and that THIS weekend she gets to play! She'll perk up once I pack gear on Friday I think.

Winn is having a blast, which means I am having a blast. We have started to really gel as a team and have had some "in the zone" time lately. My goal has been to achieve success in the various agility organizations and we're approaching that. They require different skills and we practice a lot of them. There is always more to work on.

We are also working on our herding partnership and we're at the point now where I am beginning to make concrete strides in reading and working stock. This is enormous progress and again, although the zone is more elusive, I can sense that it's possible.

Soon things will slow down a little bit, we won't trial every weekend. This requires tremendous effort when things are going well, but it will help keep everyone in balance.

Bad haircuts

Back when I was in Junior High (painful enough) I went by myself to get a haircut at the local beauty parlor (that dates my tale right there!), armed with a magazine photo of the perfect style. I was pretty excited, anticipating a very stylish, new me.

Of course the result was nothing like what I'd brought. It was hideous.

I left the parlor and was met by the "bad boys" from my grade. Whatever I looked like? didn't matter at all because they were just mean kids. I went straight to the drug store upstairs and bought a scarf; you can imagine the selection. I remember it was pink.
And that's all I remember from that day, and that haircut. I must have survived going to school, and of course my hair grew out. By the time I was in high school, I wore it long and straight. I suppose the mean boys eventually grew up; they may have daughters and granddaughters of their own.

I bring this up because my normally fabulous haircutter had an off day last week, and I was in the chair. She's really good, and I've had dozens of great cuts these past 10 years (how loyal am !?). This time, rather than heading for a scarf, I am comforted by my junior high experience: I know my hair will grow out. And there were no mean kids waiting, no name-calling or hoots of derision. Even Allen didn't mention it until I did.