Author Archives: Kathi Bell

It’s Time for Change

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I feel the need to blow off a little steam. I don’t usually share my feelings about racism publicly but I feel very strongly about the need to acknowledge what happened during a most unfortunate and distasteful encounter yesterday morning. In the interest of being sensitive, I will omit certain details. But let it be known that my blood was boiling!

There were no seats in a very full holding room as I waited for my appointment to have blood drawn. A very kind African-American gentleman gave me his seat, which was between his rising third-grade daughter and another person on my right (a casually- but well-dressed white, southern, male in his mid- to late- 60s). Descriptions ARE important here.

I had already been having a pleasant conversation with the man and his daughter in the previous waiting room and we continued it into this room. I told his daughter that she was the age of the children with whom I had the pleasure of working at church and that I remembered my third grade year as one of my favorites. Then I found out that she has attended since kindergarten, a highly ranked math, science and technology magnet school just down the street from our home. I told her it was an accomplishment to be attending there and wished her the best of luck.

After they were called to the back for the girl’s appointment, the man on my right, who had been listening to my conversation with the girl and her father, leaned over and proceeded to make some pointedly racist remarks (which I am choosing to omit here), complete with his opinion about what is wrong with our society and our country. Then he continued that Obama’s presidency had been the worst thing ever for our country. His remarks were not subtle in content nor volume. Others could definitely hear what he said. Suffice it to say that it caught me totally off guard!

I took just a second and thought, “Why me? Of all the people in this room, why did you pick me to hear your racist rant?” Perhaps it was because I had been engaging in conversation with the young lady and her father? Perhaps because you had a captive audience? Perhaps because I was a nicely dressed “white lady” who fit his notion of someone who should think like him and agree? Maybe it was because God wanted me to take a stand, publicly. I don’t know.

After regaining my composure and realizing that others were listening, I surprised myself by immediately (and boldly) telling him that I disagreed with all of his remarks; that we were all created equally by God and that the problems he outlined were not confined to one particular race or ethnicity.

He tried to stop me by talking over me to tell me how wrong I was.

I told him, “This conversation is over…” that it was a free country and he was certainly entitled to his opinion but that I didn’t want to hear any more of what he had to say.

He persisted, “You’re one of those damn liberals! I’ve got five kids! Two of them are liberals! We don’t have much to do with those two!”

I said, “If being nice to and advocating for all people regardless of race makes me a liberal, then, yes that’s exactly what I am. I’m DONE talking with you and will say a prayer for you.”

I got up and moved to another seat across the room…I was fuming!

He continued calling me a liberal from across the room. THEN he said, “I hope you won’t mind if I stick out my tongue at you. Just kidding!”

Was he trying to defuse the moment? I don’t know. I just rolled my eyes, ignored him and started talking with the lady next to me. She told me she was thrilled that I stood up to him. Others around the room smiled, gave me looks of approval and some even a “thumbs up”.

Then I was called to the back for my blood draw. As I was leaving, another gentleman who had witnessed the interaction apologized to me for the man’s behavior. I told him, “Thank you but you certainly don’t owe me an apology. We need to pray for him.”

There is just so much hate in this world… in this country. Whatever happened to respect, “love thy neighbor as yourself” and “Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight…“?

I’ve never publicly taken a stand like this before and I certainly don’t wish to offend anyone. Yet, I was, and am still, so disturbed by this encounter. I do believe that God has enabled me and given me the courage to speak out.

Redhaired Dogs – My First Love (Part 2)

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Remember, I’m a newbie at this blogging thing! I failed to mention in my last post (https://myredhairedlogic.com/2018/03/18/redhaired-dogs-my-first-love-part-1/) that I was newly married to my first husband, hereinafter called James, had no children and we had just bought our first house.

…Now for the continued story of Lady and Brutus:

Though Brutus had been at the Humane Society for only a few days, as I was finalizing the adoption paperwork, I could see in his eyes that “please-just-get-me-out-of-here” look as he rested his head on my lap. You know — THAT look! The big, adorable, puppy-dog-eyes-that-will-melt-your-heart look! I was already in love, again!

Driving home, I reassured him that I really wasn’t trying to get us both killed (though my gear shifting skills were improving). I wondered about his previous home life and why his former owner would give up this beautiful, well-mannered dog. I have no idea what his life up to then had been like, whether he was an indoor or outdoor dog, or even if he was house-trained. I didn’t care! I knew that once he saw Lady, he would forget about his former life and relish his new one with us. She would help to get him acclimated and assist us with any training, or lack thereof. And one day, I would be blessed with a litter of Irish Setter puppies!

When Brutus and I walked through the front door together for the first time, it quickly became apparent to him that he was “home”. His very laid-back personality changed into that of a joy-crazed puppy! He was frapping around the living room, bucking like a bronco, very comfortable, as if he had been-there, done-that, in-THIS-place, many times before.

What is a FRAP, exactly? Veterinarians call it a frenetic random activity period — also commonly called the zoomies, zooms, or puppy crazies — any of those words describe the bursts of exuberant, unbridled energy just itching to get out of their systems. Sometimes it’s on cold, crisp mornings, sometimes just after a bath — if you’ve ever been around puppies very much, you know what I’m talking about. I simply call it frapping.

Lady was now 9 or 10 months old and wasn’t sure what to make of this crazy newcomer in “her” house. She studied him, a little cautiously at first, and then waited for him to regain his more dignified persona. She promptly showed him all around the house; her bed, her bowls, her toys and her back yard. Oops! In my haste to be the first at the shelter, I had failed to get another bed, bowl and more toys. Lady was more than willing to share everything that was hers. In my defense, I wasn’t even sure if there really was an Irish Setter up for adoption! No sense in buying things before I needed them.

Uh, there is one other thing I forgot… I didn’t mention to James that I might be coming home with another family member! Thankfully, Brutus was accepted with open arms! Our little family was happy and content with two redhaired dogs who got along beautifully!

In the 70s, most animal shelters didn’t have the spay/neuter requirements of today, nor were they equipped to handle the veterinary care of the animals they took in. Brutus was thin, lean and lanky, but not really underweight. However, not knowing his previous medical history, I had resolved to take him to our vet right away for a checkup, which I did the next day.

Fast forward to the early summer of 1975. The 1973-75 recession was in full swing. Layoffs happened; the economy was the pits! We had just learned that our little family of 4 was going to be adding a human mouth to feed in early 1976! To make ends meet, we sold our house and moved to the family farm in another state.

Moving was a whirlwind! Trying to get everything packed by the movers in a short amount of time is quite hectic. When it came time to head out, we were traveling in separate cars, on a tight budget and had to beat the moving van and utilities people to the new house. The option of breaking the trip into two segments was NOT an option, though we had never taken the dogs on a 14+ hour trip. Our vet suggested sedating them to make traveling a little easier. The trip was uneventful, the dogs slept in the back of the van, which had, by then, been converted into quite a nice camper. We arrived at our new home, introduced the dogs to their new surroundings and got moved in to where we could at least sleep.

(You might want to stop reading here and get some tissues before continuing.)

Sometime after midnight on our 2nd or 3rd night there, Brutus woke me and asked to go outside. He was panting and in obvious distress. When I finally figured out where the switch was for the back porch light, I saw why. His abdomen had swelled up to well over twice its size and he was having difficulty breathing. Here we were, on a farm, in a tiny town that I was not yet ready to call my home, with a very sick dog and not a clue who to call. I grabbed the phone book and found ONE veterinarian listed (remember, there was no internet and no emergency vets back then). I dialed the number, really expecting to reach an answering service. Instead, I was speaking directly with Dr. Sanders who told us to load Brutus up and bring him to the clinic immediately; he would open up and meet us there. Wow!

James drove. Brutus sat next to me in the passenger seat with his head in my lap the whole way into town. He knew something wasn’t right and couldn’t get close enough. When we arrived, Doc introduced himself and immediately got to work to try and diagnose the problem. He never asked how we were going to pay or mentioned emergency fees. He just worked on that sweet redhaired dog to make him comfortable. As he hooked up an IV, Brutus didn’t utter a sound. He knew this kind man was doing everything he could for him. After hearing Brutus’ medical history as we knew it, and of our recent trip with sedation, it helped confirm the diagnosis he was already pretty sure about. Heartworms! What the-? How? We had him tested and the results were negative! He was on preventative medicine! And we never leave him outside!

As Doc explained, some things started making sense to me. A lean, lanky dog who hadn’t gained weight in spite of a good appetite; in his previous life he might have been an outdoor dog, or wasn’t given (or regularly given) meds to prevent heartworms. Any larvae the preventatives were supposed kill were able to grow into adult heartworms that were now causing heart and lung heart failure. The sedatives on the trip just exacerbated the problem. Regarding the negative heartworm test a few months back — sometimes false negatives happen if adult heartworms are present, but larvae are not. He gave Brutus an infusion of a diuretic, wrapped up his IV needle and told us to take him back to the farm until morning. If he made it through the night, Doc would consult with a few other colleagues for advice on a treatment protocol.

When we got Brutus back to the farm, Lady wouldn’t leave his side. James and I took turns staying up with him. When it was my turn to go back out at around 6am, James was sobbing. Our sweet boy had lost his battle shortly before I came outside. Lady knew that her beau was gone. We called Doc later that morning to give him the sad news and to make payment arrangements. You know, he never would let us pay him for that visit. He just said he’d like to earn our business with our other animals and welcomed us to town.

I don’t want to leave this post on a sad note, nor dismiss the impact that losing Brutus had on all of us. It was utterly devastating. So, I’ll continue with a very brief summary of this story…

A few months after our son was born, we got another male Irish Setter puppy and named him Brutus II (a.k.a. “Brute”), as a tribute to our first boy. Brute grew into a magnificent adult. He and Lady were smitten with each other and produced a beautiful litter of 13 puppies and another of 12 puppies. Of course, Doc became our vet for all future creatures, both great and small (of which there were many).

I had finally achieved my dream of raising redhaired dogs!

Redhaired Dogs – My First Love (Part 1)

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I don’t know when the allure of “redhaired” dogs first manifested itself in me, but I can guarantee that it overtook my heart like a train wreck! I use the word “allure” because that is the most accurate word I can find to describe the madness:

Allure
al·lure [əˈlo͝or]

noun
plural noun:allures

the quality of being powerfully and mysteriously attractive or fascinating.

“people for whom gold holds no allure”

Synonyms: attraction, lure, draw, pull, appeal, glamour, allurement, enticement, temptation, bewitchment, enchantment, charm, seduction, persuasion, fascination, magnetism

Antonyms: repulsion

– from OxfordDictionaries @ Oxford University Press

Sometime in early 1974, I acquired my very first redhaired dog. She was a purebred, AKC registered, Irish Setter puppy that I named Lady. To me, she was the grandest dog in the world! I was smitten! Cue in all of the photo videos you’ve seen of Irish Setter puppies and you’ve got the picture. No, really, check out this YouTube video (https://youtu.be/QMDTtUJPBBk) and you’ll at least appreciate why I was hooked! Lady grew into a beautiful, well-conformed example of the breed… and I had plans for her….

Fast forward to that year’sThanksgiving weekend. We had just purchased a barebones Ford Econoline Van for the purpose of converting it into a camper (remember, this was the early 70s). Barebones described the inside quite well; you could see the reinforcement ribs throughout the back half, no carpet past the front seats. Did I mention it had manual transmission? And, the fact that I had never driven a stick shift before, except once in an emergency? Because I needed to gain experience driving what was, at the time, the largest vehicle I had ever driven or owned, I took it for a short drive to the neighborhood gas station for a fill-up. It was a pretty wild and jerky ride to say the least, but I made it safely and didn’t take out any gas pumps turning the corner. While gassing up, I overheard a conversation at the next car over about an Irish Setter that was going up for adoption at the Humane Society the following Monday morning. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Or was this just a rumor and too good to be true? I was certainly going to find out! I didn’t ask any questions because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was interested.

Monday morning, I was at the Humane Society before the doors opened! It was no rumor! The most stunningly beautiful, adult male Irish Setter I had ever seen was there in his cage waiting to greet me. His name was Brutus (and he totally rocked that name)! Brutus was a 3-year-old purebred male WITH AKC papers, and still intact (yes, he still had his boy parts). For whatever reason, his previous owner could no longer keep him and had turned him in for adoption, papers and all. A sad time for them, but a joyful one for me! I think I held my breath the whole time I was filling out the adoption paperwork with Brutus sitting patiently by my side. I was so afraid that it was all a dream and that any minute, someone would come in and tell me I was being pranked. When the paperwork was complete, I loaded that sweet boy up in my new van and hauled fanny out of there as quickly as I knew how! Brutus was mine! But he might not have been too happy about that, considering the ride home. Though he sat in the front passenger seat like he owned it, I’m sure there were a few scary moments for him before we got home.

To be continued….

Red Tape

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On Monday, I began the process of deleting two of my business websites no longer being used. Since my logical left-brain has the need to plan ahead, I had worked out a series of steps by which to accomplish this by Tuesday afternoon — two days ago!

It was all supposed to go down like this:

  • Create new log-ins to various web accounts for which I used a business email address as a log-in.
  • Get web host to change the primary domain name of my hosting account from old business account to current website, www.kathibelldesign.com.
  • Delete both old websites

Now that I’ve done the hard part, which was changing all of those log-ins, in theory, I should be able to delete the content of the sites and then, FLINK! Turn them off! GONE FOREVER, right?

Turns out it’s not that easy! Who knew that this would become an arduous task full of…red tape! Because I was receiving so much spam email, a few months back I had added a paid spam filtering product to all of my domains (an add-on product sponsored by the web host). I never imagined it would cause a problem…red tape!

Tech support: if you wish to change your primary domain name, you’ll need to delete the spam filtering software

Me: How do I do that? I don’t find where it will let you delete the product (and thinking to myself, that must be by design – once they’ve got you, you’re in for life!)

Tech support: I can do it for you if you’d like. It will take me 3 minutes.

Me: Yes, please do that.

Tech support (after 15 minutes on hold): We have issued a refund for the remaining months, but for some reason, we aren’t able to deactivate the service. I have escalated it to our billing department so the billing team can remove it. Please allow 24 hours for them to contact you.

Meanwhile, two days later, I haven’t heard back and the spam is inundating all of my accounts that are hosted by them. Hello, web police? We’ve got a hostage situation here…red tape!

If you know me, you know how much I despise making calls to tech support. I’m headed up to the computer now to do just that. Their 24-hours has long since passed and I need a resolution. This blog and all of the websites and domains I host with this company may be migrating to a new host and thus be down for a while. Who knows? That is, if the spam product doesn’t hold them hostage, too…red tape!

 

Hidden Treasures

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I’ve recently been on a death cleaning spree, going through closets and old boxes of “stuff” to determine if it will continue living with us, be given away/sold, or thrown away.

About death cleaning… it’s not as morbid as it sounds!!! In her book, “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter“, author Margareta Magnusson writes:

Death cleaning is not about dusting or mopping up; it is about a permanent form of organization that makes your everyday life run more smoothly.

– Margareta Magnusson

As I was death cleaning last night, I discovered some hidden treasures in a box I had packed up in order to protect them while we were doing some repairs in our home. The discovery made me teary-eyed.

My mother was a porcelain artist for 35+ years and painted some of the most unique and beautiful china I have ever seen. She was always trying some new technique or style and had unlimited patience when it came to painting. She created with multiple layers of paint and firings, giving her work a depth and quality that was second to none, IMHO.

Below are pictures of a few of my rediscovered treasures. I hope you enjoy them, too!

Learning How to Stop

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As I sit here trying to learn WordPress, it occurs to me why I have so much difficulty sleeping at night. I simply can’t turn off my brain! Going to try right now, while practicing how things work in the blog world.

Choosing the “right” word!

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Well, I’ve gone and done it now! My first blog and blog post! Right now I’m still in the process of designing the look and feel of the site and my writing style, so let it be known that the site is officially still “under construction”.

Since it’s all about my random thoughts, it is only fitting that my first post is about whether or not the blog title should be hyphenated (“red-haired“), spaced (“red haired“) or all one word (“redhaired“). Because spell-check prefers it hyphenated or separated, I think I’m going to buck tradition and use it as one word – just because I like it that way!

Whose blog is it anyway, right?