MOM'S NEWEST GOOD IDEA

WHEN GOOD IDEAS GO HORRIBLY WRONG

On Friday, mom only had 15 minutes to practice yoga before her physical therapy so she set an egg timer. She didn't want to be late. She never had an egg timer before because she doesn't eat eggs. But her doctor told her to get one and learn to do things for just a few minutes at a time to prevent overdoing things that triggered pain. And fatigue. Brilliant, utterly fantastic!

Knowing the timer was on, she was able to enjoy a deeply relaxing practice, albeit shorter than usual. While luxuriating in sivasana (corpse pose) just melting into
a soft, happy place, her mind finally began unwinding from the stress of the move and a rough week.
Ah, peace:  Pretty, pretty inner peace.

Mom told us how amazed she was that only 15 minutes of yoga could feel so good before lying down for the resting pose. "Wow, you guys, you should try this," said she.

We each nodded knowingly then waited...waited...waiting until, suddenly, the  firecracker-"RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!" Right by her ear on the yoga mat.

"WHAT THE ?!@#$%&FHl7KR8*" mom screamed.

'Twas like watching a sunning snake in quiet repose suddenly shed her skin of bliss by jumping out of it in terror! Amusing humans, never a dull moment. Seriously, even a rodentBrain could have seen THAT coming, and yet,
we took no delight whatsoever in her startlement. We neither giggled, laughed, nor exchanged silly, knowing glances with one another between the bars of our cages. That would be rude. Like taking delight in a prank we ourselves might have pulled. And guinea pigs have better manners than that.

YumYum is hollering for me to, "Tell everybody how much we giggled, laughed, and exchanged silly, knowing glances with one another between the bars of our cages. And how you called it the biggest Laugh-Riot of the Year, Panda! What is a laugh-riot, anyway?" (not NOW, YumYum!)

The tragedy is how proud Mom was of her new egg timer.  But now... not so much.  We offered to eat it for her.  She sadly thanked us and said it was just another one of those really complicated gadgets with steep learning curves, yet she had hope of one day mastering the "egg timer" for the good of all mankind.

We doubt it. Perhaps a reader would kindly suggest gentle bells as a yoga timer, or the sound of tinkling harp.
Anything to keep us from laughing our guts out next time she uses the egg timer for yoga.  And, make no mistake, she will!

PANDA OUT!

ICE STORM ON THE OUTBACK

WHAT ON EARTH happened to singing robins, budding trees, flowering bulbs, and the warm, sunny weather that turned the Winter Olympics in Vancouver last
month into the Melting Olympics?!

NOW WE GET WINTER?

Yesterday, we were pelted by wind and something between hail and snow, maybe
ice rain. It was dark, we were shivering because no matter what mom did, the
wind kept screaming through the windows of this old place.

Maybe a new place would be warm. We'd like that.

Technically, we guess it is still winter, and we've just been spoiled by early spring-
like weather.

But it was really coming down and so mom let us out on Runabout to stay warm,
get some exercise, and forage for food hidden in and amongst our boxes and
Runabout toys. It was fun, even if YumYum is still chasing me, Bear is still chasing
YumYum, and all I want is a little time to be PandaGoesRunabout without a lot of
cavy commotion! I ask for so little...still, Runabouts are always fun, even in a storm!

PTARMIGAN!

WE are all ready for summer. And mom is ready for the high country.
All we think about is spring: our ceremonial opening of the windows, sunlight pouring in, the fragrance of mom's lattes mingling with the perfume of blossoming trees, and tales of adventures at Artist's Point.

Now that she'll be a hip, urban, bohemian artist, she belongs at Artist's Point, and anywhere in the mountains above 5,000 feet!

It's been years:
Time to go back and find another ptarmigan!

PANDA OUT!

SCUDDER POND

SCUDDER POND keeps her secrets well hidden. This is one such: Beaver lurks beneath the surface, and mom has been able to commune with him when she can  remain silent, unmoving, imbued with faithful patience and detachment.  A meditation on waiting.

So, it's not like an everyday thing...

We're not talking about our very own Bear the BeaverPig, either: Real Beaver - his big, brown, furry head gliding half submerged, his round, flat tail running like a silent submarine just beneath the surface, stopping beneath the cover of cattails to methodically chew them in half...
then dining on the thick stalks or covertly transporting them to buttress his winter-torn lodge, giving soft beaver pups a safe, sturdy home...

Some people like Polar Bears, Tigers, and Elephants.

We love Beavers. We especially love our own Bear the Beaver Pig!

And we love Scudder Pond when she allows mortals a glimpse into the mystical
circle of life she secretly births spring after spring: Renewal! No matter the harshness
of winters past. The eagles return carrying long, budding branches in sharp talons across the pond up into "their" cottonwood tree. Their nest always needs mending after all winter's windstorms.

We sit on mom's lap, staring half awake through the window when, suddenly, an eagle flies by with sticks and branches to recreate the nest where one eaglet was born last spring, fledged last summer, and will begin a new life of his own, coming full circle from birth to birth, undaunted by the winds of winter!

Spying on Beaver when he either does not see her or does not see her as a threat is truly one of mom's favorite adventures on the Outback. We'll miss her regale us with stories about "the other Beaver." The
Beaver who is not a guinea pig!

Thank goodness we have our own Beaver, and he is a guinea pig, knowing that wherever we move, our BeaverPig will be right there with us, shaking his cage bars furiously for food with the teeth of a real Beaver!

PANDA OUT!

GOOD MORNING, WOODY! YOU'RE LOOKING FINE IN SPRING PLUMAGE!

WE START A NEW LIFE THIS SPRING

We are definitely moving from our sanctuary by the sanctuary to the "city" and do not know what to expect. We wake up to birdsong and go to sleep with hooting owls and an occasional coyote. Deer walk by beneath our window. We wake up to the fragrance of the marsh; hills dusted with fresh, powdery snow. What will the city be like?

Mom said to think of it this way: We piggies are all going to become hip, urban, bohemian artists and she said that will make us very cool!

HAS MOM  EVER MET US?!

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

WE ARE GUINEA PIGS! WE ARE
UNIMPRESSED, MOM: UN. IM. PRESSED.
WE LOVE IT HERE.


Mom changed strategies, explaining that if we move to one place in particular, we will be living right behind the place she buys all our fresh, organic produce and also near the Farmer's Market: we will enjoy an abundance of FRESH, delicious, organic, local FOOD!

That caught our eye.

We don't know, much less care, about being hip, urban, bohemian art pigs.
It's unlikely mom does either, because she still dresses like she's ready to go climb a mountain.

IT'S FOOD WE UNDERSTAND!

So, instead of feeling sad, she has asked us all to help each other feel glad.

FRESH FOOD FROM THE FARMER'S MARKET? WE LIKE! WE HAPPY! WHEEEEK!

Mom has not photographed her artwork yet and we are growing tired of showing the same thing over and over and over again. Mom's friend in Iowa, Nancy, told her to "Lose the hat!" S0, we don't hold out much hope she will ever learn to dress hip or urban.

But, we will encourage mom to give us her art to feature on the blog so she can at least FEEL
hip, urban, bohemian, and whatever other fancy words she used to mask the fact that she doesn't want to move, either.

On the upside, as she has become more physically ill, we recognize she needs easier access to things that we live far away from and maybe she'll feel happier in the bustle of coffee shops, art galleries, farmer's markets, our independent movie theater, and amenities the Audubon Society does not provide here on the our pond. Our beautiful pond. The one full of beavers, wood ducks, mallards, buffleheads, Great Blue herons, green herons, black-crowned night herons, Canada geese, Virginian rails, stellar jays, chickadees, rufous-sided towhees, red-winged blackbirds...
the Eagle's Nest...Osprey...

Windstorms smashing us with CRAZY Wildness UNLEASHING  Raw, Arctic THUNDER across the marsh, knocking down trees like matchsticks, pelting the landscape with ice and pure POWER!

Who needs it?!


So, dear readers, we shed our winter coats and identities to assume new ones as we respond to extreme changes to our environment.  Where we will end up, nobody knows. One thing: We hope desperately for SouthWest facing windows allowing glorious sunlight to pour itself generously throughout our new abode.  Even on days when the sun doesn't shine it could still be little brighter for all of us.

We'll adjust. We will eat and play and become hip, urban, bohemian, artsy guinea pigs who scramble across sun-drenched floors full of hidden pieces of apple, pear, lettuce, kale, peppers, oranges, and we'll popcorn our glee and wheek with wild abandon. Yes! L'Chaim to Spring-fed Renewal of Life at PandaPigSanctuary!


PANDAPIG OUT!

OUR FAVORITE MUSIC EVER!

YouTube - the Guinea pig song

Beyonce -yeah, THAT BEYONCE - choreographed this number following her own  #1 hit, "All the Single Piggies, Put a Lid on It!"

If you know the song, you can hum along. WE DO!

PANDA OUT.

OUR CIRCUS ACT!

We are still trying to make mom laugh so she doesn't get sad about moving. You remember how I was complaining about YumYum a few posts ago, him always following me around and all?

Well, dear reader, this IS EXACTLY what you think it is and now I have earned your sympathy, because, let's face it: ICK.

HowEVER: it made mom come running to help me and we know she was giggling in HORROR, and laughing inside. So, in the interest of cheering her up, I endure what I must.

It's not easy being PandaPig. Some days are more trying than others.
This was certainly ONE OF THEM! YumYum GET DOWN!

OFF!   Gee Whiz, pig, have some decorum!

PANDAPIG OUT.

BEAR GOES LONG...

Good morning, gentle readers. We are calming down about having to move and feeling a bit more peaceful inside. Bear made a generous effort to cheer us up by doing his best imitation of a dromedary camel! He is unusually long for a guinea pig. He also has the ability to lie upon his flannel-covered platform while holding his big head up so HIGH that Edwin once remarked how much he resembled a sea-lion! Having been accidentally bitten by Bear, mom thinks he looks more like a walrus with long tusks. (She really means "vampire fangs" because I can read her mind but she never says things like that out loud for fear of hurting our feelings...Bear can be sensitive at times.)

Either way, we are all doing our best to cheer mom up about the move and make her laugh!

YumYum just announced that he is changing his name to "Ziggy Stardust" and instructed mom to refer to the rest of us as "The Spiders from Mars." She gave him a big piece of fresh, organic yellow pepper (we all got some) then asked if he felt he was getting enough Vitamin C. Guinea pigs cannot produce vitamin C so our slaves have to supplement our diets to keep us healthy.

We have fresh snow again this morning dusting the hills just beyond The Outback and heavy snow in the mountains.

But we are not "Spiders from Mars" so YumYum can have his pepper and EAT IT!

Yeah, Ziggy, I'm blogging about you again!

Sigh...that YumYum...such imagination! Am I right? Of course I am!

PANDA OUT!

THE ARTFUL ORCA

When the ARTOrca brings mom her pencils (courtesy of her friend Linda, from San Francisco) it's a surefire clue we have grown restless without our daily creative outlet (READ: eating mom's drawings.) She applies pencil to newsprint, leaves it on the floor (way to go, mom!) and then we feel obliged to take her self-expression a step further by doing unspeakable things to it.

Who's to judge the difference between the art of drawing and the art of instinctive cavy nautiness? Naughtiness is also a fine art that must be carefully cultivated with attention to detail and the ability to stay in the present moment, so that we can run away squealing the minute mom discovers we have put our distinctive "signatures" on her drawings!

By that, we mean...well, our "signature markings" carry a distinctive musky, earthy "fragrance" and our "paint" carries an unmistakably individual odor, color, and texture: There are many ways to create, appreciate, and dissiminate art...we eat it. Then we recycle it as indigenous "paint" upon whatever newsprint remains (READ: haven't eaten.) That's what creative rodents do and we know it's a result of not having nasty, little naked tails like rats: Guinea pigs are free-wheeling, aesthetically discriminating sprites whose creativity begins through taste and visceral chewing, tearing, shredding, eating, digesting, and returning the creation to it's organic roots as poo. Pretty, pretty poo.

Humans like mom just take pens and pencils and move them across a page of paper (B O R I N G...snore) while WE use carrots, bit of kale, lettuce leaves, juicy mandarin oranges, sweet yellow peppers, TEETH, TOENAILS and anything else we can chase hungrily across her paper to create unique organic designs!

VOILA!

If, at the end of our "process," little remains but pee or poo, that's a sure-fire "mark of authenticity" for which one ought be grateful!

Helps if that one has had a really strong, fragrant latte first.(Mom's Go-To Feel-Good Happy-Juice.) And vegan waffles with maple syrup.  That's a prerequisite for appreciating true Cav(y)Art.

Orca is growing restless. Mom's hand should be improving. And we are just itching to get back into "our edible art studio" to welcome spring with flair and pizazz! MMMMmmm"WHEEEEK!"

Am I right? Seriously, am I right? Of course I am!

PANDA OUT!

SHAINA, SEAMUS, AND BEAR

BEAR likes to give the impression that, as an older boar, he has experienced so much that very little surprises him. He is, after all, five years old. Which is like 90 or something in people years. But baby Seamus (held by mom Shaina) was a first, even for an old veteran like Bear the Beaver Pig! Hands so tiny they fit just where he loves to be petted... and baby smell, sweeter than fresh hay. Bear fell in love with Seamus.

But, so has everybody else! It's just nice to know surprises still await an old boar and delight is only an infant's hand away!