I do not know how many miles Storm and I ran together. Eight, ten, perhaps twelve thousand miles. He was one of the first dogs and taught me the most and as we worked together he came to know me better than perhaps even my own family. He could look once at my shoulders and tell how I was feeling, tell how far we were to run, how fast we had to run—knew it all.
                                                                from: Woodsong
                                                                by: Gary Paulsen
                                          illustrations by: Ruth Wright Paulsen
                       Bradbury Press/Macmillan Publishing Company, 1990
 
       Gary Paulsen ran the Iditarod twice. Once in 1983 and again in 1985. The account in Woodsong is from the journal he kept for the 1983 race. He finished that race in 17 days.      
       The Iditarod is a predetermined long distance dog race from Anchorage to Nome and covers almost 1,000 miles. The official length is 1,049 miles, honoring the entrance of Alaska as our 49th state. It begins on the first Saturday in March and finishes when the last musher reaches Nome, two to three weeks later.
      To run a team in the Iditarod requires lots of training. If this is your first race, you must submit proof of completing at least two races of 300 miles each and one race of 150 miles. You need paperwork regarding good health and humane treatment of the dogs, a list of sponsors and $4000.
       I have no plans on running the Iditarod or any other race. But my relationship with animals goes back pretty far, even though we were not allowed to have a pet with fur. My mom and dad always told us it had to do with walking, cleaning up and the generally huge responsibility of caring for something totally dependent on us.
       As I grew up, I suspected it had something to do with the heartbreak my mom experienced when my grandma sent Mom’s dog off to war. She was a young woman, late teens, probably, and Blackie had been a true and loyal friend since he was a puppy. When the call for volunteer dogs was sent up from the U. S. Army, Grandma answered with Blackie. He didn’t come home.
       So we had a series of short-lived goldfish and longer-lived turtles, all named Oscar, the later ones with Roman Numerals after their name, Oscar II, III, IV and so on. I’m not sure how many Oscars are in the ground behind the house where we grew up. I don’t know why they were all named that.
       But no dogs.
       We got our first cat when the father of the children I babysat became allergic to him. Princey was a big black and white who lived up to his name. He didn’t rule the house, but he changed the family dynamic in important ways.
       Now we had to be responsible. Princey had needs: food, water, clean litter, and cuddles. He was a grown-up cat, but liked laps. He had his moments, though. He’d catch something in the corner of his eye (that was in another dimension, I’m sure) and take off like a shot, running through the house and ending half-way up the doorjamb in the hallway. Then he’d do a little shake and look at us as if he was saying, “What are you looking at me for?”
       Princey was a good cat until he got sick. My folks, then my mom had a series of cats after that. But none like Princey. And no dogs.
       Cats are still in my life. Each one is kinda different and each one is kinda the same. I love them all.
                                                                   --stay curious!

       [Amelia Bedelia] got yarn, scraps of felt, and fluffy feathers from her arts-and-crafts box. She left little heaps of stuff at the bottom of her slide.
       “Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Robin!” she called to the birds. “Here is a nest supply shop just for you!”
                                        from: Amelia Bedelia is for the Birds
                                                              by Herman Parish
                                                      illustrated by Lynne Avril
                                     Greenwillow Books/ HarperCollins, 2015
 
        Yesterday was the first day of Spring. It felt like Spring to me. The sky was a little bit lighter gray. The air was not freezing cold. The grass was not quite as brown.
       Sticks are scattered all over the yard. Squirrels are scampering.
       And that robin I saw last week survived. Cheerful chirrups greet me when I bring in the morning newspaper.
       A long time ago my brother-in-law told me many robins don’t migrate. And it’s true. They spend most of their time in trees, though, so we don’t see them. They eat fruit and berries. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/American_Robin/lifehistory
       Spring and Summer, robins love to eat earthworms. An adult can eat 68 worms every day. Youngsters eat about 50, gathered for them by the adults. Each clutch includes 3-5 eggs. That’s a lot of worms!. (National Wildlife Federation’s World of Birds: A Beginner’s Guide. Black Dog & Leventhal Publishers, 2014.) Seeing robins in your yard is a good sign of a healthy lawn. Worms aerate the soil.
       Birds are fascinating: their colors, their songs, their ability to fly. I was a quiet child. I liked sitting outside listening to the birds. It might have been at Girl Scout Camp where I learned each type of bird has its own song. I remember a few common ones. I like to try to locate the birds I hear when I’m sitting on my porch or taking a walk. Here’s an easy way to listen to some common backyard birds. http://birdlanguage.com/resources/bird-voices-audio-library/species-list/ and https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/browse.aspx?name=a Two of my cats really love these sites.
       Although now I know he was teasing, my grandpa told me if I put salt on its tail, I could catch a bird. I didn’t really want to catch a bird. What would I do with it? The idea seemed intriguing, though, and I spent plenty of warm summer hours chasing squirrels with a few grains of salt in my pocket. I never caught one, but it was not for lack of trying.
       Today promises partial sun and warmish weather. I’ll go outside with empty pockets and listen for birds while I pick up all those scattered sticks.
P. S. 
In case you are still wondering about the Monopoly vote:
The boot, wheelbarrow, and thimble have ALL been swapped from the iconic game, for a Tyrannosaurus rex, rubber ducky, and penguin.
According to: http://www.vox.com/culture/2017/3/17/14959012/monopoly-3-new-tokens-anti-capitalism-hasbro-elizabeth-magie
The T. rex stands for the inherent predatory nature of capitalism.
The penguin stands for the coldness of Wall Street, and also for the profit-driven destruction of the polar ice caps.
The rubber ducky seems to say, “Much like water off of this duck, the inhumanity and decadence of late capitalism just rolls off my back.”
 
See pictures of the new tokens (along with the remaining originals) here: http://www.cbsnews.com/news/monopoly-unveils-new-game-pieces/
                                                                   --stay curious!

At home, the children spread the game out on a card table. It looked very much like the games they already had. There was a board that unfolded, revealing a path of colored squares. The squares had messages written on them. The path started in the deepest jungle and ended up in Jumanji, a city of golden buildings and towers.
 
                                                                   from: Jumanji
                                                          by Chris Van Allsburg
                                               Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1981
                                                        (1982 Caldecott winner)
 
       I have an old thimble that my gram used when she sewed. It’s pretty big, she might have worn it on her thumb. Her (my) thimble is unusual. The top is open, so she could wear it lower on her finger (or thumb). She used it when she was mending socks or zippers. She used it when she sewed for me. She was a great seamstress, but underappreciated by us kids. One time she made nightgowns for my sister and me. She made her own pattern by transferring our measurements onto newspaper. Long set-in sleeves and a little ruffle on the bottom. She didn’t fashion us any day clothes that I remember.
 
       I missed a really important current event. Hasbro announced the thimble is going the way of the iron in its iconic game. On-line voters chose a cute little kitty cat to replace it in 2013.
      Voting for Monopoly’s thimble replacement ended January 31, 2017. Where was I? Sidetracked by politics, grandkids, politics, birthday parties, the New Year, and politics, no doubt.
       Even though it’s too late to vote, you can see the choices here. (Use the arrows on the side to see photos of current pieces.) http://ew.com/gaming/monopoly-new-tokens/monopoly-token-madness-vote/. The winner will be announced on March 19.
       Low-key, low-maintenance, low-interest in materialism are ways I think of myself. So why the interest in a game of high stakes in a high action city like Atlantic City, New Jersey? Looking at it from my current perspective, it seems like a greedy money and land grab. But that is now.
       Then, our game came with with pewter pieces (that’s still true), including the iron and the thimble, and wooden houses and hotels (still available in the Deluxe Edition). Now they are plastic. My brother and sister and I would claim the coffee table in the living room and set up for a game that usually lasted several days. My brother liked to be the car. My sister liked the car and the shoe. I liked being the shoe, but I hardly ever got to be. Lots of times, I was the iron, sometimes the thimble. None of us wanted to be the dog!
 
       It was a game. We didn’t put too much stock in the capitalistic philosophy. We counted the money, rolled the dice, chose Community Chest cards. We learned to count and add play money, buy and trade properties, utilities and railroads. And we learned to take turns. We rooted for each other and cheered each other on. Then we worked together putting everything away. Kinda the opposite of greedy capitalistic land grabs.
 
                                                                   --stay curious!

. . .it’s not enough to be kind. One should be kinder than needed. . . we carry with us, as human beings, not just the capacity to be kind, but the very choice of kindness.
 
                                                                  from: Wonder
                                                                  by: R.J. Palacio
                                                          Alfred A. Knopf, 2012
 
       In about second grade, two of my friends and I started a Kindness Club. I don’t remember doing anything especially kind, but we were nice to each other. Once a week we went to each other’s houses for lunch. 
       Sometimes it’s a tall order to be kind. I have to think about it and work at it. Lots of people tell me I’m nice, but that’s not the same thing.
       When I was pretty new to town, I had a friend who was organized, involved in her children’s lives and in the community. She always had time to invite her friends to her home for dinner, make casseroles for new neighbors, participate in the PTO.
       Once, when I was the recipient of one of her generous dinners, I asked her how she got so much stuff done. Her answer changed my life.
       "I always have time to do what I love to do." She sounded so matter-of-fact.
       Oh.
       I had been spending my time with two young children, a new town and a failing marriage (although I didn’t acknowledge that, yet) avoiding the things I hated to do. Doing what I loved was a new idea for me. First I needed to discover what exactly it was that I loved. I’m still working on it. It changes. A moving target.
       Today I visited an old friend in a nursing home.. She’s in her 90s AND I’ve known her for over 30 years, so both kinds of old. She’s feeling very weak and looks very frail. When I walked in, she smiled. We had a nice chat. I found her Chapstick which was not where it was supposed to be and gave her a drink of water, twice. I didn’t feel especially kind. I just wanted to see her and visit for a little while. Maybe that is kindness. Or maybe it’s just doing what I love.
       National Random Acts of Kindness Day was February 17. But that was the week of the Westminster Dog Show. And they had cats this year!
       So even though my timing is a little off, I'm sure it’s always the right time to be kind! 
 
                                                                  --stay curious!