Canicross Part Deux: Tricked Out Dog

     So after several jaunts with the homemade canicross system of car harness, bungee cord, leash, and khaki belt, I decided to spring for the real deal. I did some comparison shopping, finding that most commercial pet stores around me do not carry or know anything about canicross equipment. I looked online and found a range of prices and your typical "starter kit" that basically throws the cheapest models that the company wants to liquidate at the poor unsuspecting beginner. I saw more professional setups and also those that are pretty much just for walking a dog hands-free, but not for the pulling pup. Then I found Canadog! They are, yes, a Canadian company that was selling exactly what I needed - a long-distance padded harness small enough for my under 30lb. pooch, a line with built-in bungee, and a padded belt with a water bottle holder and bag pouch. All of this for less than some companies were charging for just a harness! I waited like an overactive child, checking the mail every day until it finally came.
     In a heatwave. Hot hot heat and a double coated dog does not make for the perfect running conditions, lest she overheat. So we cooled our heels and waited for today when the air took a turn for the breezy with a big thunderstorm threatening on the horizon. I have to say that in the midst of a big stormy sky is my favorite time to don the running shoes not only for its cooler climate, but also for its slightly scary mood. I don't know why, but I like pushing my brain into "Ooooh can we make it?" territory. It's the same impulse that carried me through a hike down an Oregon waterfall trail in the dark with only a cell phone lighting the way.
     Now, did the real equipment make a difference? I can't say for my dog, though I imagine she was happier with the cooler nylon than the fake sheepskin of her car harness. For me, the real belt was soooo much more comfortable. Everything was streamlined, and the padding on the belt was like the difference between a cot and a mattress. I also felt more confident that the design wasn't putting any undue stress on little pooch's muscles in bad ways. And we had a great time outrunning the rain! I can tell that little by little she is getting stronger and better able to keep her stamina up for pulling the lazy mama behind her.
     As a bonus, I also took advantage of a sale on dog booties to try to stave off any damage to the pup pads. They are from REI and have sturdy rubber soles with velcro around what equates to a dog wrist or ankle to secure them.
     Have you ever seen a dog try on her first pair of shoes? I highly recommend putting yourself in that situation. My dog at first could not understand that the shoes did not render her feet useless as she rested her front paw on its toes, then flopped over to lie on her side when the second shoe was fitted to her. Once she was baited with treats, she began to try to make sense of her new feet, striking straight out into the air in front of her, then bringing the foot down on the floor with a clop. As a whole, she appeared much like a high-stepping Saddlebred horse. When I took her outside, she took off at a gallop and the booties flew off into the air around her with the increased momentum and all in all, I felt like I was living in a cartoon.

     Through all of this, I had to stifle my laughter with a hand tightly clapped to my mouth. If you didn't know that Shetland Sheepdogs were very sensitive dogs, you do now. They are easily embarrassed and I didn't want her to associate her new booties with deep personal shame. Soon, I will try the whole gamut of gear together and we'll see what kind of hilarity ensues.

The Power of the Handmade Object

     There's something very special about those things in our lives that are created by another pair of real human hands. Maybe we need to feel that silent tactile connection to another person in an increasingly technological world, or maybe we just appreciate the display of skill. No matter the reason, the handmade object continues to hold our attention even with higher price tags and more imperfections than its factory-made counterpart.

     As an artist, I deeply believe in the power of the handmade object. I believe in what it does for the maker and what it does for the buyer. It is a power that is understood at the visual and manual level, and here I go attempting to describe it in words. What crosses my mind when I think about these objects? Uniqueness, a sense of time, and a personal story all come through.

     Quite truthfully, I love my smooth, factory-made, perfect-size-for-exactly-the-amount-of-coffee-I-want-to-drink-plus-cream, alma mater mug. I appreciate its reminder of my college days, and I like its trustworthiness. It will be there, surviving the dishwasher and a few bumps along the way, and if all else fails, I can buy another one with relatively little effort. But there is another mug that sits and waits in the dark on the second shelf of the cabinet, behind the travel thermos. It is safe there, and it needs to be safe because it is very special. It is handmade porcelain, wide and squat, with a handle that allows me to fit just one finger through. It is a soft baby blue with several flowers glazed quickly here and there, and it has a matching honey comb. No one else has a mug quite like this. No other mug will have the same accidental dents or cracks in the glaze that make it look like my own skin. This is unique. I should use it more - I know that's what the artist would want - but somehow, pulling it down just every once in a while makes the moment even more special.

     All handmade items embody a sense of time. There is the time it took to make the object, the understanding that this skill has been passed from one set of hands to another throughout generations, and the idea that this object is a marker of our own moment in time. I am reminded of this each time I view a case of metal tools, Chinese ceramic vases, beautiful royal dresses, or rough stone carvings at the museum.

     Handmade objects also serve as reminders of a personal story that may never be told outright, but is already illustrated within the item. Consider the story of my factory-made mug. Other than remembering that it was a gift for Christmas one year and that it represents my college, who cares? I don't need to know where it was made, how loud the factory was, or who pushed the button. The flower mug is a different case. When I use it, I am reminded of a sunny morning in the sculpture yard at that same college. A friend was unloading his most recent work from the kiln, and I gave him a hand. He had a show coming up, and the work was lovely - lots of mugs and honeycombs and tea sets fresh from the fiery mouth that can make or break beauty. This brief moment was nothing extraordinary...the very fabric of the ceramics studio is woven from all who work there, mixing clay, firing kilns, working in that community. Later on, I found the mug on my table with a note of thanks for the help. It was a gesture both simple (a mug) and profound (the time, each decision, and touch poured into that mug). How do you feel when you run your hand across a quilt, smell the deep wooden scent of a carved flute, or taste a fresh pie made from scratch?

Homemade Bread and Juice

     What to do with some rapidly wilting kale, a brand new Pampered Chef loaf pan gifted upon you from the mama, and a rainy day? Homemade green juice and beer bread.
     I've recently fallen in love with the Naked brand Green Machine juice. It's packed with things like broccoli and pineapple and somehow tastes amazingly delicious. While I'm a huge fan, sometimes a girl just has to do things herself and at cost. My half-eaten bunch of kale (the first half having been devoted to massaged kale and avocado salad-yum) was staring at me from the fridge, wilting and furrowing its brow at me for allowing it to be wasted. A little too floppy to be eaten raw, it was time to juice the lot of it. Combine the crinkly leaves with one farm stand cucumber, one granny smith apple, 5 celery stalks, about an inch of ginger (peeled), and the juice of one lemon. I altered the recipe from this site and found it to be very tasty. I think the lemon is definitely needed and I liked the tartness from the granny smith variety. There is always a lovely foam that the juicer creates, making a homemade juice a little like a raw latte of sorts.

The remains of the green dream juice

     Everyone knows how good green veggies are for our health, and this is a super easy way to get the servings we need. Hello, B12, it's good to see you again. Another recipe I've enjoyed for many turns of the juicer is carrot, apple, celery, ginger juice. It's a little sweeter for those who can't quite swing the green dream. If you have access to a juicer, I completely recommend taking the time to make one of these or all of these. If you don't have a juicer, put it on the wedding registry. If you're not getting married, buy some Naked juice and stock your bachelor(ette) pad mini fridge. I wish I had some more right now...


     Another thing to definitely consider when juicing is buying organic. I love the lists of foods that are more important than others to buy organic, and here's one for you!

     The last time I was ready for a nice cozy rainy day, the weather faked me out and decided to be sunny. This time, I was sure that the rain was going to hold out for a nice soft drizzle all day as I gathered the necessary ingredients for a ridiculously easy beer bread. Just three cups self-rising flour, 1/3 cup sugar, and 12 oz. of beer - slap it in the pan with no need to rise and give it an hour in the 350 degree oven. I brushed mine with a bit of butter on top to give it a nice brown crust. The original recipe is here and I love this website for all of the comments that people leave on the page with adjustments to make the recipe even better. The bread actually does taste like whatever beer you use, combined with the sweetness of the sugar. I ate my first slice warm, right out of the oven, with a smear of butter. I think homemade bread is one of the best kept secrets most underused obvious sources of awesomeness. If you are intimidated by rising and kneading, try this bread and thank yourself profusely. Remind yourself that you just drank a lovely healthy juice, and eat the butter, too.

Fresh out of the oven, crusty and sweetly warm

     Craving more wonderful recipes that lavish love on veggies and pair them with beautiful photos? Here are some of my favorite magazines with links to their websites:

Urban Farm
Grow (by Fine Gardening)
Farmer's Market Cooking (by Vegetarian Times)

     Now, what to do with a loaf of bread that may go stale soon? A recipe from my favorite breakfast place:

I'm going to be breakfast!

Toast + ricotta cheese + asparagus + a poached egg.

Ode To Pink Foods of the Season

     Pink is probably my favorite color. This spring-summer time of year is probably my favorite season. What better way to celebrate than by making seasonal recipes featuring two pink foods: rhubarb and strawberries. I know what you're thinking - strawberry rhubarb pie. Well, you're wrong. I recently saw a very interesting recipe on one of my favorite blogs, The Healthy Everythingtarian, for lemon rhubarb compote. I had never heard of such a thing, and seeing as I had never actually had a rhubarb experience, I thought this would be a good starting point. Featured on top of pancakes, this is exactly how I had this lovely sweet, saucy concoction for dinner, along with a spinach frittata. My second pink recipe is strawberry frozen yogurt, chosen for its simplicity and health factor.
     Do you know how wonderful rhubarb is? After today, I don't think it truly gets its due. Before, my only personal experience with it was as a troublesome weed that grew with great speed in various parts of my lawn. The United States is conflicted about what rhubarb really is - it is generally considered a vegetable with its large toxic leaves (we eat the stalk parts), but since most of our recipes involve using its tart taste in pies and such, we decided to call it a fruit in 1947. That's uh, confusing. Anyway, this crazy little "fruit" has tones of pink and green in its stalks, looks a lot like thick celery, and it does have a bit of a funky smell when you cut it up. The most amazing part to me is how much water rhubarb contains - this becomes evident when cooking.
     So I started out by taking a short bike ride to the small farm down the road where they sell antiques, berries, herbs, and today, rhubarb. After picking out a bunch at the low low price of $1.50, and a $3.00 box of strawberries, I headed back. I got my ice cream maker canister into the freezer for later, washed everything, and set up my laptop beyond the splash zone.
     The recipe for the lemon rhubarb compote is simple and straightforward, just follow it right from the website. Rhubarb, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice. Here it is in pictures:

chopped rhubarb

stalks are redder at the bottom and greener at the top

lemon zest makes this a little fiesta in a pot

the transformation after cooking - no mashing required!

     I would have taken a picture of the final result atop a fluffy pancake, but it was too good. I couldn't stop myself. Another plus, all of the bits and pieces left over from the process can go right into the compost.

one man's trash is another woman's fertilizer

     The strawberry frozen yogurt recipe is also simple as can be. There is no cooking required - it is just a matter of pureeing strawberries, then mixing in yogurt, honey, and salt. While my canister freezes, the mixture chills out in the refrigerator until it is time to freeze and churn.

    














     What I love most about these recipes, other than their lovely pink starring foods, is how simple they are. Not only are they really easy to do, but they have a minimum of ingredients with a power-packing taste factor. It's just fresh, pure, and right out of my own neighborhood.
    

Canicross? Yes I can.

     I wouldn't label myself as a runner. I like to run when it is part of other activities, like hitting a tennis ball before the second bounce, or getting enough momentum to clear a small stream crossing on a hike. I've never connected with the mentality of getting up at 4am to jog the neighborhood, and I've seriously questioned the sanity of runners in the rain. All of that has changed with one strange word - canicross. Essentially, dog-powered running.
     My dog is smart. I'm not just bragging here - I can back it up with solid evidence. She knows your basic gamut of tricks including sit, stay, lie down, give me your paw, wait, come, crawl, sit up pretty. She also knows "take it nice" for treats, can eat off of a fork (thanks, Mom), speak, quiet (though this one is usually at her discretion), put your nose right here, go in your house, go on your blue chair, scoot, leave it, and do you want to go for a walk. From her stint as an agility beginner, she knows "jump" and "tunnel." The real kicker is that she knows the various names of each of her toys, will play hide and seek with them hidden around the room, and, upon command, will clean each one up into her toy basket. My dog is smart. But really, motherly pride aside, my point is that I could never train her to not pull when being walked. The closest I've gotten is a give and take of slight pulling to walking somewhat near me throughout the duration of the walk. I'm convinced that she understands, she's just not interested in having a leisurely walk. When I read about canicross for the first time, I thought that this could combine my inherent laziness in running with her desire to pull perfectly.
     If you google canicross, you'll see that it's mainly popular in European countries and has developed as a pastime for mushing dogs or skijoring teams during the warmer off season. Skijoring, you quizzically ponder? Is this a new type of table from Ikea? Nope. Think dog-powered cross country skiing. There's also bikejorring, scooterjorring, and rollerjorring. Little did I know back when I was nine (through probably fourteen), as I flew through the neighborhood on rollerblades, two leashes in hand and a scrambling dog in front, that I was actually rollerjorring. I've also been an equestrian since the age of six, and before that, constantly wanted to be carried by my parents. Perhaps it's in my DNA to want other animals to propel me through space. In any case, I now take on the world of beginning canicross.

Our setup

   

     The thing about any organized sport is that once it is recognized as such, it entails expensive equipment. How do I know if I really want to plunk down $100+ for a special harness, bungee line, and belt with awkward leg loops? Will it just be gathering dust in a few weeks? Until I can fully commit to this new endeavor, and until I can see if my dog is truly a brilliant canicross leader rather than just a disobedient walker, I had to rig something up. So, one wide canvas belt, one bungee cord, one leash, and one car harness have to do the trick. It's not the most comfortable setup, and it probably looks a little crazy. Luckily, I never seemed to gain too much of a sense of personal pride even after the days of childhood rollerjorring had passed, so I don't mind making a fool of myself around the neighbors.


     The feeling of being pulled at the run is, at first, giggle-inducing. It's not only a strange sensation, but you also see this smallish dog in front of you, suddenly transformed into a purposeful Alaskan sled dog, a supreme athlete with one goal: mush. It takes a little while to find an agreed-upon stride, and the websites will tell you not to lengthen your stride to compensate for your dog's speed as your joints will not thank you later. There are also a number of safety considerations, and this list is obviously not inclusive as I am just a mere beginner with a rigged setup:

1. Take it slowly. Build up your (and your dog's) understanding of the commands and fitness level.
2. Take care of those little pawsies. Either fit your dog with stylish booties, stick to the grass, or take frequent breaks like I do. If a dog is really gung-ho pulling on the wrong surfaces, he or she can actually wear holes in his or her paw pads.
3. Watch your dog for overexertion or overheating. Since it is primarily a warm weather sport, plan your route to include a splash in the water, or a shady break. (ps. Canicross enables you to take lots of breaks when running and blame it on the dog.) Offer drinks of water, and keep in mind that the longer your dog's tongue looks, the harder it is for him or her to cool down. The first half hour after exercise will also be a key time to watch for heat exhaustion.
4. Research the right harness. X-back styles are generally agreed upon as the traditional harness for sledding dogs, but long distance harnesses are apparently better for canicross as they compensate for the increased angle of the lines to the belt. The point of attachment is higher up on the dog's back than the other styles and helps them pull more efficiently.

     So now my dog has a whole new set of vocabulary to learn - let's go, on by, gee, gee over, haw, haw over, easy, whoa.

I could drink a case of you, Raw Milk

     It's kind of a weird day. I think it started because the full moon woke me up in the middle of the night, shining upon me like a celestial spotlight as I slept in my bed across from the window. It's like someone saw me there, snoozing away, and silently whispered, "Aaaaand...action." My performance amounted to rapid blinking while trying to figure out if it was already noon, and then rolling over.
     When it was actually morning, I awoke to an uncharacteristically cool gray rain. Ah, an oatmeal day. I was excited because I had been reading about lots of exciting variations on oatmeal recipes and thought this would be the perfect day to try one out. What could be better than a chilly morning with steel cut oats bubbling in a steaming pot? As I was stirring my creation, I glanced out the window into the...very sunny day. The weather had stymied me. Though my attempt at coziness had been thwarted, I couldn't back out of my oats now. It takes a minor amount of dedication to make steel cut oats as they require stovetop attendance and a good 15 minutes, but their inevitably better taste and nutty crunch make up for it. I loaded a generous heap of honey, flax seeds, and dried blueberries into my bowl and poured myself a nice glass of raw milk.

Steel cut oats, dried blueberries, raw honey, flaxseed

     If you've never had raw milk, I'm about to launch into a slurry of facts and a flowery description for you. If you have had it, read along and nod your head knowingly. Raw milk is milk that has not been pasteurized (heated to kill bad bacteria - but also good bacteria and helpful enzymes) and has not been homogenized (the thing they do to make it so that the cream doesn't naturally rise to the top). There are lots of internet articles out there that will tell you that drinking raw milk will make you sick and various state laws limit the sale of raw milk to the public. I'm lucky enough that I have several places where I can buy raw milk in my neck of the woods to see for myself. The general idea is that by law the farmer can sell directly to the consumer, but not through another retail entity. I suppose this keeps the consumer more closely linked to the farm itself, and able to get information to and from the farmer if need be. What this usually means is that the milk can be sold through such avenues as farmer's markets and co-ops. The best website I've found in giving good, positive information on raw milk is www.raw-milk-facts.com - I would re-quote what they have to say on the health benefits and the controversy, but really, just read it all there. Fun fact: it was once referred to as "white blood" due to its intensely nutritious and presumable healing properties. Decide for yourself - only you and your body can know what is right.
      The experience of raw milk is so far from your grocery store variety. Raw milk is easily a main player of a meal, snack, smoothie, whathaveyou. It is rich (especially the kind I get from Jersey cows), smooth, and has its own sweetness. Because it is a full-fat milk, it it not only satisfying in itself, but those fats biologically help the drinker absorb the vitamins present as well. Drinking this milk is almost a spiritual action - for me, I found that it could calm my nerves on a particularly trying day and satisfy a stomach that was calling out for snacks of less merit. The way that I can best describe it is that it is like drinking a subtly flavored liquid ice cream. I love it, and I love that my particular brand supports a local, organic, pasture-raised dairy farm in my area. The farm that provides my raw milk actually does more testing than is required by state laws, and they drink gallons of the own milk from every batch, not only to assure their customers' safety, but because they love it, too! Nothing is better than a cold glass of this powerfully awesome milk.
     Which is why I was so disappointed when my glass smelled a little off. Not full-fledged sour milk, just not up to par. I still technically had two days before the expiration date, but am I going to use that argument with a gurgling stomach in a few hours? Sigh, down the drain. While I was sadly pouring my milk into the sink, my oatmeal was patiently waiting on the coffee table, cooling down as I refilled my glass with water. When I came back in the room to greet it, my dog was looking at me with that look.
     Dogs can't lie. If you own a dog, you already know this. If you don't, just know that you don't even have to question the dog. "What are you up to?" is not necessary. You just pleasantly look around the room and meet up with Incredibly Guilty Dog Face. This involves the ears flattened against the head, nose pointed downward, eyes venturing a glance at you, and the general assumption that the dog would
A) like to become spontaneously invisible or
B) have you become spontaneously invisible so that he / she can continue the unsolicited activity.
In this case, it was obvious that the unsolicited activity had been sampling my oatmeal, as evidenced by the bits of oat and flax seeds stuck to my dog's face. I would have been more angry, but the bits were on the most adorable parts of her face - one on her nose, and one amazingly by her eye. It's also difficult to get mad when you're also turning the moment into an unintended compliment in your head (I know, that combination of oats, honey, flax, and blueberries I thought up is just soooo good. Have some more.) For the rest of the time I was eating my oatmeal, my dog continued to whine and gripe and slap her paw on my leg until I banished her to her crate. Then she pouted. Then I let her lick the empty bowl. Then she slept her victory nap.

Victory nap

     The other weird part of the day is that my gardens seem to have despaired while I've been away for a few days. The peas are all folded over on themselves, sure that I would never return, and the weeds have taken up a threatening presence in what had been a calm neighborhood. Now that it's sunny anyway, I might as well go straighten things up out there while my dog pilfers the refrigerator for leftovers. Exactly the kind of day for which one could use a nice tall glass of raw milk.

West Virginnie, Au Natural

Spring water pool, Gentleman's Spring, and Old Roman Bath

     Yesterday I ventured to West Virginia with one goal in mind: be a dirty hippie. With promises of a natural hot spring and a restaurant specializing in local, organic, humane foods, I was ready to get on down. It was originally intended to be an extended hike/camp situation, but with a threatening thunderstorm forecast, a day trip it was.  So myself and my fella headed to Berkeley Springs, famed for its historic healing mineral hot springs. Apparently, it's been a hot spot (!) since the days of George Washington, and for the Native Americans before him. Dirty historic bathwater it wasn't, however. We were welcomed by a friendly little town and Roman style baths, private and tiled, ready for your 30 minute soaking pleasure. The water consists of heat from a suspected underground volcanic source and various minerals that somehow cause you to bob up in the water more than your average jacuzzi. Provided on the side of the tub was a chilled pitcher of cold spring water - silently sweating - cups, and fluffy white towels. I stayed in until my toes and fingers were all wrinkled and I felt suitably relaxed. When the door opened back out to the 80ish degree weather, it felt amazingly cool. Walking around and taking in the various small bookstores, posters for Rockabilly concerts, and health food groceries, I felt noticeably refreshed. We even came upon a small candy store where they sold fresh hot doughnuts with homemade ganache. Dessert before dinner, anyone? I think so.

A little oddity from the trip

    
      Soon enough it was off to our dinner reservation at Panorama at the Peak. A mere 4 miles away, we somehow managed to pass by a castle on the way there. It's appropriately called Berkeley Springs Castle, built as a pledge of love from a Civil War colonel to his 22-year-old fiance. The Taj Mahal, West Virginia style. We wound our way through wooded roads, climbing the hills that would give us our fantastic view from the restaurant. It was just before sunset, and all of the tree-filled mountains were brightly lit as we stared into the valley below.

     When we arrived, it appeared to be like any other overlook - a clearing at the edge of a drop off - but the difference here was that it served as a parking lot for the restaurant just across the road. We scrambled across before any cars cruising along that mountainous curve could advance, and made our way into Panorama at the Peak. A little table by the window was reserved with our name written in a simple calligraphy style, and the view was spectacular as promised. The picture doesn't even really do it justice.


      Even more exciting, however, was the menu. 80% of the food served is local, so this gives a little wiggle room for things like imported coffee, certain fruits, seafood etc. The menu names the specific farms that provide the meats, and it indicates when they are organic certified, humane certified, and what all of that means. They even provided pamphlets that explain what goes into the certified label, including providing animals with the opportunity to engage in actions that come naturally when they are free range. Basically, this is who I've become. And I'm ok with that. I laugh at it. But mostly I'm serious about it.

     While we were deciding, we enjoyed warm slices of bread with sweet and tangy honey basil butter. Uh, yum. After hearing a mouthwatering selection of specials in addition to the regular menu, my fella settled on an oven roasted romaine salad with charred red onion, tomatoes, and bacon. There was also some sort of amazing soft cheese sprinkled throughout. He went with a cordon bleu burger wrapped in ham and a puff pastry, served on a bed of wild rice. He was so excited by it that we forgot to get a picture until his plate was nothing but crumbs. For me, I wanted to try the spinach salad that was served with edible flowers, celery, pecans, cheese, and a vanilla dressing. The flowers tasted like freshly ground pepper and I could see actual vanilla beans on the plate. It was culinary artistry and it was delicious. Then of course I had to take advantage of being able to eat meat in a restaurant, so I had the chicken marsala with mushrooms, ginger carrots, and baked rosemary potatoes. As a side note, I wound up eating four different flowers during this dinner. It was one of those meals that silences you of all conversation outside of "This is so good. This is sooooooo gooooood." Even the restrooms were environmentally conscious as they provided rolled up washcloths as alternatives to paper towels. We stuffed ourselves with goodness, then headed homeward taking the scenic byway and digested the day.

Bread with honey basil butter

Roasted romaine salad

Flower and spinach salad

                    

The remains of the cordon bleu burger

   

Chicken marsala, garnished with an edible pansy