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Thursday, January 30, 2014

Thoughtless Thursday: Not Everyone Hates The Snow

Okay, most of our dogs love snow even though we may not.
But what are polar bears at zoos in North America doing?
Reviews are mixed. Chicago's Lincoln Park Zoo is among those that kept their polar bears inside. Without the extra fat they'd put on eating blubber in the wild, zookeepers say it's just too cold for them.

But in Denver, Winnipeg and Toronto, the polar bears are perhaps happier than anyone about the snow!
 Photo courtesy Denver Zoo/Facebook



(MELISSA TAIT / WINNIPEG FREE PRE)

From Toronto,  here's a baby polar bear seeing snow for the first time:

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Isn't It A Rule?

RE: 
http://www.weather.com/news/snow-leaves-atlanta-schools-struggling-respond-20140128


I thought it was a rule.
In a blizzard you cancel school.
Ice, on roads frozen,
Means buses ain't runnin'.
The school district looks like a fool.
AP PHOTO/BRANDEN CAMP

We're glad all the students are warm.
Teachers: KUDOS! You kept them from harm.
But bureaucrats: if snow's a scarcity - 
err on acting with alacrity!
The forecast ain't always a false alarm.

Things happen, we all know it's so.
Hindsight is perfect, we know.
But when it's your call
And you completely drop the ball
It's kids who are stranded in the snow.

19 Action News WOIO 




Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Marine Mammals Don't Belong in Captivity! Be the Change For Animals

"There are many opportunities in which enormous suffering by animals can be reduced at a small cost to humans."
Stephen Pinker
The Better Angels of  our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined

"Since the tragic death of Dawn Brancheau Tilikum has been kept isolated in a concrete tank far too small for his size. Does SeaWorld really provide him with the proper care he requires? The only purpose Tilikum serves SeaWorld today is as a living reproduction machine. This is no life for any animal, especially not for such an intelligent and social one. Let Tilikum go!"
Jessica Wysser

Photo Credit: Voice of the Blue

When my daughters were toddlers we were lucky enough to live in Bermuda for four months. Among the many fun things we found to do was attending the dolphin show at a little marine park. I didn't give it much thought; it was just something entertaining for me and the kids.

When they were bigger we lived in San Diego. We went to SeaWorld a couple of times, and were awestruck by the Shamu show. The sea lion show was hilarious. The animals performed flawlessly. We were told that the tricks they did were based on natural behaviors and that all the animals enjoyed performing. I believed this, in spite of all my education in biology. (Or maybe because of it; in the 70's we were taught that animals were incapable of feeling the way humans do - 'don't be anthropomorphic!')

Click here to see a youtube video exposing other myths about marine mammals in captivity.

Last fall we had a long layover in Atlanta, and took the opportunity to visit the fabulous aquarium there. It was more incredible than I imagined. Long after our visit however I was haunted by watching the beluga whales swimming in endless circles in their cement swimming pool. One of them had scraped itself raw by ritually rubbing against the same spot on the viewing glass as it went around, and around, and around again, probably hundreds of times a day.

It didn't seem right for the 'canaries of the sea' to be imprisoned that way.

Two weeks ago, I watched a documentary called "Blackfish". I'd never heard of it. I was stunned by the callous mistreatment of the orcas and the greed of Sea World in exploiting them AND their human trainers.

Click here to watch the trailer for Blackfish. You can find Blackfish on Netflix streaming.

While researching for this post I discovered a review of the book Death at Sea World  on the blog Voice For The Blue. Here is an excerpt from the review:

With the upcoming release of the new documentary Blackfish, I decided to finally read Death at Sea World. Simply put, it is an inspiring, heartbreaking, thriller, that provides significant insight into the lives of Killer Whales in captivity. Kirby takes you through a gripping investigation that is hard to put down. The book in the end, is an eye opener to Shamu and the Dark Side of Killer Whales in Captivity.

The Humane Society of the United States has this to say about marine mammals in captivity:

"Life for captive whales, dolphins, and other marine mammals 
is nothing like a life in the ocean. It is almost impossible to maintain a family group in captivity, a tragedy for whales and dolphins. When you see marine mammals in tanks or pools, consider what they have lost in order to entertain us."

Orcas are highly intelligent and social. Scans of orca brains have revealed that they have an additional structure in the limbic area that humans lack. The limbic area is physiologically the seat of the emotions. Neurologists have concluded that the social bonds and communication between orca families (pods) is on a level we can only imagine. In the wild, orcas stay with their mothers for their entire lives.

The orcas used in shows are taken as babies (cheaper to transport). Literally, they are kidnapped from their families as calves. Blackfish shows the heartbreaking grief of the captive mother orcas when SeaWorld takes their babies away.

Orcas use language. We can't understand it of course, but marine scientists have concluded that some whale species have names! Upon greeting another whale, they repeat this sequence of sounds (their name) precisely. Dolphins are now known to call their friend's name when they are separated (click here for more). By the way, anatomically orcas are the largest dolphin species.

It's appalling to think of these sentient animals being held in swimming pools in what amounts to solitary confinement. Perhaps worse is when they are held together and don't get along - a bullied whale can't get away.

Be the Change for these animals. Watch Blackfish. Sign the petition to Free Tilly and end the practice of keeping marine mammals in captivity. Take the pledge to never buy a ticket to a dolphin show or swim with dolphins in captivity. 
Photo Credit: www.earthintransition.org

Blog the Change

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Wordy Wednesday: New Year, New Blog

This week Training Toby added its 45th follower, so it's unnerving to announce that as of February 1, Training Toby will become Terra Toby!

I'm so excited because Terra Toby will include all of the fun Toby content, plus Pinterest and Facebook.  I'll be able to blog about wildlife and conservation too. As the tag line will say, the blog is about
celebrating this wild life on Earth!

Followers, please don't wait to visit Terra Toby. You can see it as a work-in-progress right now - and start following today. You can watch the blog grow into my vision for it without missing a single post. 
Why change Training Toby to Terra Toby?

Toby has resigned his Therapy Dog gig.
Toby's shyness had progressed by September to the point where on our last day at the hospital, he was cowering behind my legs as another visitor reached for his head. I started Training Toby to document our journey through therapy dog training and service. On that last day I realized, "Toby, you are not Bert. You are not Snoopy. You are not Goose or Sugar. You are Toby, and you aren't having any fun at all. That must change." And so Training Toby must change now too.

I don't have time for 2 blogs.
Sometimes I can't even keep up with 1 blog the way I'd like to! But I feel pulled to blog about some of the wildlife and ocean issues I'm so passionate about. For example, the photos of the birth of an adorable new monk seal in Hawaii last week went on Pinterest but didn't seem suitable for a Toby-only blog. Now I can appropriately bring cool events like that front and center and share them with my blog friends.

I want to keep stretching and challenging myself as a blogger.
I want to do some blog redesign and incorporate more social media, as well as add some new pages to my blog. 

Other bloggers have inspired me to 'go for it'.
Retro Rover, formerly Urban Hounds, made launching a broader blog look amazing. Pawsitively Pets has an incredible Pinterest page. Sugar the Golden Retriever has this beautiful Facebook page. Sew Many Ways has thousands 0f followers. I know it will be weeks of challenging fun to acquire a tenth of their skill and appeal, but that's what makes this an adventure!

I've loved Training Toby and always will. I love the design, which my beautiful daughter Lauren did for me. I love each and every one of you, my friends and followers. I'm humbled that you took the time to visit me and Toby. I look forward to seeing you on our new blog, Terra Toby!


Wordy Wednesday: New Year, New Blog

This week Training Toby added its 45th follower, so it's unnerving to announce that soon, Training Toby will become Terra Toby!

I'm so excited because Terra Toby will include all of the fun Toby content, plus Pinterest and Facebook.  I'll be able to blog about wildlife and conservation too. As the tag line will say, the blog is about
celebrating this wild life on Earth!

Don't wait to visit Terra Toby. You can see it as a work-in-progress - and start following today. You can watch the blog grow into my vision for it without missing a single post. 
Why change Training Toby to Terra Toby?

Toby has resigned his Therapy Dog gig.
Toby's shyness had progressed by September to the point where on our last day at the hospital, he was cowering behind my legs as another visitor reached for his head. I started Training Toby to document our journey through therapy dog training and service. On that last day I realized, "Toby, you are not Bert. You are not Snoopy. You are not Goose or Sugar. You are Toby, and you aren't having any fun at all. That must change." And so Training Toby must change now too.

I don't have time for 2 blogs.
Sometimes I can't even keep up with 1 blog the way I'd like to! But I feel pulled to blog about some of the wildlife and ocean issues I'm so passionate about. For example, the photos of the birth of an adorable new monk seal in Hawaii last week went on Pinterest but didn't seem suitable for a Toby-only blog. Now I can appropriately bring cool events like that front and center and share them with my blog friends.

I want to keep stretching and challenging myself as a blogger.
I want to do some blog redesign and incorporate more social media, as well as add some new pages to my blog. 

Other bloggers have inspired me to 'go for it'.
Retro Rover, formerly Urban Hounds, made launching a broader blog look amazing. Pawsitively Pets has an incredible Pinterest page. Sugar the Golden Retriever has this beautiful Facebook page. Sew Many Ways has over 1000 followers. I know it will be weeks of challenging fun to acquire a tenth of their skill and appeal, but that's what makes this an adventure!

I've loved Training Toby and always will. I love the design, which my beautiful daughter Lauren did for me. I love each and every one of you, my friends and followers. I'm humbled that you took the time to visit me and Toby. I look forward to seeing you on our new blog, Terra Toby!


Monday, January 13, 2014

Monday Mischief: Violated My Probation: Back to the Crate

It wasn't my fault.

Toby at the keyboard to explain the recent events leading up to my re-incarceration:
It's the vet's fault.
It happened like this.
First, SHE made cookies, lots and lots of cookies. Did I get to taste test them? No siree, not even ONE cookie came my way. Most of them went into the pantry but she put 16 of them into a little hand- painted apothecary jar on the counter (yes, SHE had done the tole painting on the wooden lid and I admit, it was pretty cute). Being the patient pup that I am, I waited until they went out for dinner the next evening. As the headlights receded down the driveway I gently used my soft Golden retriever jaws to lower the jar to the floor, prodded out the lid, and one by one I feasted on chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Yum! Lemme just say she could teach those Milk Bone people a thing or two. Sadly the painted lid was not so tasty. I barely gnawed it at all. Truly.

I would never have done this if the Vet had not weighed me and told my people that I have (gasp) love handles. I don't know why something with the word 'love' in it means I have to live a ravenous life. But that is the unfair treatment I've gotten ever since.

Workers came and banged on the outside of our house for 2 weeks and almost drove me nuts. I couldn't go out in the yard unless I was leashed because they had the gates open all day. I barked at them every day but they trespassed anyway. Sometimes HE even invited them inside! Finally they left. The people stepped outside to look at whatever mischief those workers had done. They left the pantry door just slightly ajar…well. Basically they were inviting me to help myself to the greenies, right? Actually, two whole unopened bags of greenies, since they'd just been to the commissary… My poop was green for 3 days! That's what you call a FIESTA!

For some reason they weren't as happy as me when they came back inside

Two nights ago HE brought out his new telescope after dinner and went out back to set it up. Soon he was hollering for HER to hurry and get a jacket to come and see Jupiter and its moons, whatever that is. I pretended to snooze while she left the unwashed 9x13 pan on the counter. Yowzer did it make a noise when it hit the tile floor! They both came running but I was already in the other room;  I know better than to walk on all that broken glass!

SHE said a very RUDE thing then. "I hope the noise scared the s**t out of him!" she told HIM. Why would she hope such a terrible thing? 

The crate came back into the kitchen and now every time they leave me alone in the house I have to go into it. I look as pathetic as possible but the parole board isn't going to meet for awhile I guess. 

The Vet is who belongs in a crate! If she hadn't sentenced me to life on short rations NONE of this would have happened, right? Right? 

What's the matter with love handles anyway?

Poor Toby. He does accuse us of cruel and unusual punishment these days. We want him to be healthy for a long time. Too bad we can't explain it to him; it's hard enough to diet when you do understand what's going on! That said, there's naughty and then there's NAUGHTY, and he had graduated to the latter. So the crate will have to stay.

Monday Mischief: Violated My Probation: Back to the Crate

It wasn't my fault.

Toby at the keyboard to explain the recent events leading up to my re-incarceration:
It's the vet's fault.
It happened like this.
First, SHE made cookies, lots and lots of cookies. Did I get to taste test them? No siree, not even ONE cookie came my way. Most of them went into the pantry but she put 16 of them into a little hand- painted apothecary jar on the counter (yes, SHE had done the tole painting on the wooden lid and I admit, it was pretty cute). Being the patient pup that I am, I waited until they went out for dinner the next evening. As the headlights receded down the driveway I gently used my soft Golden retriever jaws to lower the jar to the floor, prodded out the lid, and one by one I feasted on chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. Yum! Lemme just say she could teach those Milk Bone people a thing or two. Sadly the painted lid was not so tasty. I barely gnawed it at all. Truly.

I would never have done this if the Vet had not weighed me and told my people that I have (gasp) love handles. I don't know why something with the word 'love' in it means I have to live a ravenous life. But that is the unfair treatment I've gotten ever since.

Workers came and banged on the outside of our house for 2 weeks and almost drove me nuts. I couldn't go out in the yard unless I was leashed because they had the gates open all day. I barked at them every day but they trespassed anyway. Sometimes HE even invited them inside! Finally they left. The people stepped outside to look at whatever mischief those workers had done. They left the pantry door just slightly ajar…well. Basically they were inviting me to help myself to the greenies, right? Actually, two whole unopened bags of greenies, since they'd just been to the commissary… My poop was green for 3 days! That's what you call a FIESTA!

For some reason they weren't as happy as me when they came back inside

Two nights ago HE brought out his new telescope after dinner and went out back to set it up. Soon he was hollering for HER to hurry and get a jacket to come and see Jupiter and its moons, whatever that is. I pretended to snooze while she left the unwashed 9x13 pan on the counter. Yowzer did it make a noise when it hit the tile floor! They both came running but I was already in the other room;  I know better than to walk on all that broken glass!

SHE said a very RUDE thing then. "I hope the noise scared the s**t out of him!" she told HIM. Why would she hope such a terrible thing? 

The crate came back into the kitchen and now every time they leave me alone in the house I have to go into it. I look as pathetic as possible but the parole board isn't going to meet for awhile I guess. 

The Vet is who belongs in a crate! If she hadn't sentenced me to life on short rations NONE of this would have happened, right? Right? 

What's the matter with love handles anyway?

Poor Toby. He does accuse us of cruel and unusual punishment these days. We want him to be healthy for a long time. Too bad we can't explain it to him; it's hard enough to diet when you do understand what's going on! That said, there's naughty and then there's NAUGHTY, and he had graduated to the latter. So the crate will have to stay.

Friday, January 10, 2014

See Beautiful: Smells Can Be Beautiful Too!

Smell is our most primitive sense. Marcel Proust is probably the most famous example of memory being triggered by an odor. He flashed back to his childhood upon smelling a madeleine (cookie), and ended up writing War and Peace as a result. Maybe it's a plus for most of us that cookie smells merely cause us to smile and head for the pantry.

We humans value smelling pleasant. This week I got a very nice present from Lydia at See Beautiful and Rosalyn at Sugar the Golden Retriever (visit them on the blog hop!).  They sent me Mimosa Soap from See Beautiful, and it does smell heavenly. 

I said it smells heavenly, Toby, not edible.
Speaking of edible, you probably knew that smell is crucial for our brains to process taste. One of my former colleagues did a great lab in her Anatomy and Physiology class. She provided several strongly flavored items, like minty gum and vanilla. She had her students hold their noses (blindfolded) and try to guess what they were tasting. Most of the time they were baffled, and she made her point. Next time you enjoy a beautiful treat thank your nose.

Consider that a dog's sense of smell is 14,000 times better than ours.
 Explains a lot.

It's not just food that seems more beautiful with a nice smell. I get a Yankee Candle jar that smells like a Christmas tree and burn it every day while our artificial tree is up. It was part of the deal I made with my husband to convince him to go with a tree made in China. I'm not alone: from Yankee Candle's own financial report


Retail sales were $176.0 million for the first six months of 

fiscal 2013, an increase of $13.2 million or 8.1% over the prior

 year period

Perfumes are big business too. Reportedly, a bottle of Chanel #5, 

based on tuberose and jasmine, is sold every 30 seconds. And who 

can help being disappointed by roses and other flowers that have 

no smell?


It's not just food and plants that smell nice. Think of babies and 

little puppies. Think of your significant other's scent. Actually, a 

common phenomenon when loved ones are separated is to hang on

 to an unwashed shirt or pillowcase for the comforting smell. 

When Kasey died I kept his brush, which hadn't been cleaned and

 was full of fur. For months I could pull it from the closet and 

soothe my grief with a sniff. To me, Kasey smelled beautiful. 

It works both ways too. A common tip for preventing separation

 anxiety is to put a nice stinky undershirt into the dog's crate.

I hope your sights and smells will be Beautiful today.

See Beautiful: Smells Can Be Beautiful Too!

Smell is our most primitive sense. Marcel Proust is probably the most famous example of memory being triggered by an odor. He flashed back to his childhood upon smelling a madeleine (cookie), and ended up writing War and Peace as a result. Maybe it's a plus for most of us that cookie smells merely cause us to smile and head for the pantry.

We humans value smelling pleasant. This week I got a very nice present from Lydia at See Beautiful and Rosalyn at Sugar the Golden Retriever (visit them on the blog hop!).  They sent me Mimosa Soap from See Beautiful, and it does smell heavenly. 

I said it smells heavenly, Toby, not edible.
Speaking of edible, you probably knew that smell is crucial for our brains to process taste. One of my former colleagues did a great lab in her Anatomy and Physiology class. She provided several strongly flavored items, like minty gum and vanilla. She had her students hold their noses (blindfolded) and try to guess what they were tasting. Most of the time they were baffled, and she made her point. Next time you enjoy a beautiful treat thank your nose.

Consider that a dog's sense of smell is 14,000 times better than ours.
 Explains a lot.

It's not just food that seems more beautiful with a nice smell. I get a Yankee Candle jar that smells like a Christmas tree and burn it every day while our artificial tree is up. It was part of the deal I made with my husband to convince him to go with a tree made in China. I'm not alone: from Yankee Candle's own financial report


Retail sales were $176.0 million for the first six months of 

fiscal 2013, an increase of $13.2 million or 8.1% over the prior

 year period

Perfumes are big business too. Reportedly, a bottle of Chanel #5, 

based on tuberose and jasmine, is sold every 30 seconds. And who 

can help being disappointed by roses and other flowers that have 

no smell?


It's not just food and plants that smell nice. Think of babies and 

little puppies. Think of your significant other's scent. Actually, a 

common phenomenon when loved ones are separated is to hang on

 to an unwashed shirt or pillowcase for the comforting smell. 

When Kasey died I kept his brush, which hadn't been cleaned and

 was full of fur. For months I could pull it from the closet and 

soothe my grief with a sniff. To me, Kasey smelled beautiful. 

It works both ways too. A common tip for preventing separation

 anxiety is to put a nice stinky undershirt into the dog's crate.

I hope your sights and smells will be Beautiful today.

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Degrees of Separation

It's been hectic around here since Christmas.

Besides the usual holiday season bustle there were more occasions than usual to spend quality time with the grandkids. Their father found out 3 weeks ago that he'd been chosen for a new position as an associate pastor and would need to relocate several hours away by today. His new job begins  tomorrow!

I'm so thankful for all of the quality AND quantity time we have spent with our grandchildren over the past three years while they lived 20 minutes away. I've been spoiled beyond measure in having all of our family in the area until this year. Since I retired a year ago there have been even more random hours and afternoons spent in the company of those little ones. Meanwhile their mother and I got used to our new roles and cemented a friendship as adults, not just mother-daughter.

But…
(you just knew there was a 'but' coming, didn't you?)
…the fact is, today at 7 AM they all pulled out of the driveway in their old Ford Focus and a hole opened up in my heart. They stayed with us this week.  The chaos, noise, and extra alertness that is required served as a reminder of why people become parents while they are young, yet some of the sweetness of our own young parent years reverberated. I heard my husband use his goofy baby talk voice and watched him rock a baby girl to sleep again, and I thought of him doing that when he was slender and his hair was still red. I felt warm chubby legs around my waist and felt an active little boy relax into sleep in my lap. For a few days the bedrooms, dinner table, trash cans, bathrooms, and my heart were full.
Where did they go?
Today the house is silent except for the hum of the washing machine and dryer restoring the sheets and towels to clean piles in the linen closet. It doesn't really matter when we eat dinner or even what, or how much, there is to eat. We'll spend the evening reading or watching TV and it will be relaxing - and kind of boring. What really makes me want to cry again is realizing that next week there won't be any chance of saying, hey, I was just out running around, can I stop by for a minute?
This was what Toby did when he heard the grandkids' names.

I don't mean to be selfish about this. Ted and I tried to raise our children to be independent, self-reliant, productive adults. They are, though it's probably more in spite of than because of us . There's joy in watching them hit the milestones of adulthood - graduations,  the first jobs, marriages, first homes. When your own children become parents, though, and you see them struggle to come to grips with their own confusion about how to take on the greatest responsibility they will ever have, there's a peculiar mixture of empathy, pride, and love. I'm going to miss knowing about those struggles so intimately, because even in this age of technology, physical distance equates to a loss of the day-to-day knowing that comes from being together often.

When are they coming back?
Supposedly when the last kid leaves home, the parents are 'empty nesters' and are sad for awhile, then adjust and that's that. The truth is paradoxical. It's really nice not to worry about when (or where) dinner will be, to relax into a book or a movie in the evening with a glass of wine, to only wash one set of towels and sheets and be done, to spontaneously decide to drive to the beach or the store and be in the car five minutes later, and to sleep through the night with the prospect of coffee and the newspaper in the morning. It's also a stab of loss, a tearing of a new hole in the heart, every time the family separates and the distance in space and time grows again.


Degrees of Separation

It's been hectic around here since Christmas.

Besides the usual holiday season bustle there were more occasions than usual to spend quality time with the grandkids. Their father found out 3 weeks ago that he'd been chosen for a new position as an associate pastor and would need to relocate several hours away by today. His new job begins  tomorrow!

I'm so thankful for all of the quality AND quantity time we have spent with our grandchildren over the past three years while they lived 20 minutes away. I've been spoiled beyond measure in having all of our family in the area until this year. Since I retired a year ago there have been even more random hours and afternoons spent in the company of those little ones. Meanwhile their mother and I got used to our new roles and cemented a friendship as adults, not just mother-daughter.

But…
(you just knew there was a 'but' coming, didn't you?)
…the fact is, today at 7 AM they all pulled out of the driveway in their old Ford Focus and a hole opened up in my heart. They stayed with us this week.  The chaos, noise, and extra alertness that is required served as a reminder of why people become parents while they are young, yet some of the sweetness of our own young parent years reverberated. I heard my husband use his goofy baby talk voice and watched him rock a baby girl to sleep again, and I thought of him doing that when he was slender and his hair was still red. I felt warm chubby legs around my waist and felt an active little boy relax into sleep in my lap. For a few days the bedrooms, dinner table, trash cans, bathrooms, and my heart were full.
Where did they go?
Today the house is silent except for the hum of the washing machine and dryer restoring the sheets and towels to clean piles in the linen closet. It doesn't really matter when we eat dinner or even what, or how much, there is to eat. We'll spend the evening reading or watching TV and it will be relaxing - and kind of boring. What really makes me want to cry again is realizing that next week there won't be any chance of saying, hey, I was just out running around, can I stop by for a minute?
This was what Toby did when he heard the grandkids' names.

I don't mean to be selfish about this. Ted and I tried to raise our children to be independent, self-reliant, productive adults. They are, though it's probably more in spite of than because of us . There's joy in watching them hit the milestones of adulthood - graduations,  the first jobs, marriages, first homes. When your own children become parents, though, and you see them struggle to come to grips with their own confusion about how to take on the greatest responsibility they will ever have, there's a peculiar mixture of empathy, pride, and love. I'm going to miss knowing about those struggles so intimately, because even in this age of technology, physical distance equates to a loss of the day-to-day knowing that comes from being together often.

When are they coming back?
Supposedly when the last kid leaves home, the parents are 'empty nesters' and are sad for awhile, then adjust and that's that. The truth is paradoxical. It's really nice not to worry about when (or where) dinner will be, to relax into a book or a movie in the evening with a glass of wine, to only wash one set of towels and sheets and be done, to spontaneously decide to drive to the beach or the store and be in the car five minutes later, and to sleep through the night with the prospect of coffee and the newspaper in the morning. It's also a stab of loss, a tearing of a new hole in the heart, every time the family separates and the distance in space and time grows again.


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