tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59948672012-02-23T07:35:01.553+10:30Everything you wanted to know about everything but were too afraid to ask.kitchen handnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1114865154235594512005-04-30T22:15:00.000+09:302005-04-30T22:26:48.793+09:30

... and I will continue to walk the dogs after coming home from running.But I will no longer blog from here.But I will continue to chronicle my life with cooking and dogs and running and babies and relatives at www.verygoodcooking.blogspot.com Thank you to everyone who was interested enough to visit here, to read or to comment.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1114435705150476372005-04-25T22:51:00.000+09:302005-04-25T23:24:18.853+09:30

Ninety years ago.A full moon rose this evening and as it did I thought about the men who died.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1114320006700888522005-04-24T14:46:00.000+09:302005-04-24T14:50:06.700+09:30

Took Huey the foster Greyhound to Princes Park this morning. He was mobbed by dogs. A Labrador-Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy leapt up and grapped his head with its front paws, just about climbed onto his face. Another did the same. No reaction from Huey. That's socialisation. He's a great success.However, once back home, he did bite the flower off a pansy in the back yard.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1114087137558102682005-04-21T21:52:00.000+09:302005-04-21T22:08:57.560+09:30

Why is it so hard to get the dogs to get off their cushions and go outside at ten o'clock at night when I have the Tallis Scholars playing low; performing timeless and magnificent harmonies unchanged since the fifteenth century, in some cases - on a warm autumn evening - the end of a beautiful, unforgettable day in which a new Pope has been elected, somewhere on the other side of the world? Why?

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1114051682719282192005-04-21T12:12:00.000+09:302005-04-21T12:18:38.976+09:30

Into Crutch Ballistic Missile.That's Huey. Man, is this dog exuberant or WHAT!He lies at the top of the yard, in the shade of the tree. You can hardly see him. He's dark grey. When I open the back door, he launches.He's like a rocket. Flies down the yard at a billion miles an hour and collides full-on with my groin. I'm deflecting him and teaching him not to be so exuberant. It's starting to

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1113777437055601702005-04-18T08:00:00.000+09:302005-04-18T08:07:17.056+09:30

9am at the university track. They describe this as a double pyramid:Warm-up, stretch etc.1 x 400, 1 x 800, 1 x 1600, 1 x 800, 1 x 400, 1 x 200.Then do it all again.Ran the first 1600, the 'peak' of the pyramid, in 5.36 and the second in 5.58.This was my first Saturday morning session - never thought I could cope with speed training so early in the morning. It was fine. But hard.Sunday, a

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1113558689504409582005-04-15T19:06:00.000+09:302005-04-15T19:21:29.506+09:30

Huey is just your average washed up Greyhound. He's five and he hadn't raced since late 2003, which means he's been cooling his heels in some concrete kennels somewhere for a year and a half. Just like an ageing lieutenant towards the end of a too-long war. Too old for active service but too young to be discharged. They come in handy for office duties, in stores or administration, mapping and the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1113374127565293442005-04-13T15:49:00.000+09:302005-04-13T16:08:13.640+09:30

Read.All right, I will comment. No, we are not the higher species.At the other end of the cruelty scale, some dumbass rang up the veterinary talk-back radio show segment and wanted a solution to her problem. (Today's guest vet. was an oncologist and tried to explain he wasn't going to be solving anyone's animal behaviour problems but DID THEY LISTEN? NO THEY DIDN'T. THEY KEPT RINGING UP AND

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1113278922924347992005-04-12T13:36:00.000+09:302005-04-12T13:38:42.926+09:30

I now have three cats living in my front yard. And my back yard, when they get the chance.They are cute little things, two pure white and one black and white.They really belong to next door, but they clearly prefer my garden for some reason.I do wish they wouldn't kill the birds, however.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1112415045399311022005-04-02T13:34:00.000+09:302005-04-02T13:41:45.006+09:30

My right knee is trouble. I step out of the car, it collapses. There is a momentary burst of sheer pain and then I straighten up and it's OK. It's out of track. Or something. I start to run and it's excruciating.A run some more and try to get it so that it doesn't hurt. After a while it doesn't hurt. If it doesn't hurt when I'm running full pelt, that means it's OK. Doesn't it? Then it hurts

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1112164924220201912005-03-30T16:08:00.000+09:302005-03-30T16:12:04.220+09:30

Daylight saving ended for the year on Sunday. Last night, three laps of Princes Park (each 3.2 km) with 'surges' along the top and bottom and part of one side. Autumn's here, the leaves are turning golden, but it is still warm.It will be winter before we know it.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1111636761535132362005-03-24T14:28:00.000+10:302005-03-24T17:29:39.193+10:30

With that kind of money on offer, someone will try to fake one.Hmm. Wonder what Goldie would look like if I painted a few stripes on her.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1111185315755052232005-03-19T09:03:00.000+10:302005-03-19T09:07:45.586+10:30

Yet another story from the Herald Sun, today on page 3. The paper has by far the highest circulation in Australia and reputedly in the Southern Hemisphere and you can't buy page 3."Basically there are thousands of dogs who lose their lives every year," said SADS (Save-a-Dog Scheme) founder and president Pam Weaver. "I was very upset about these dogs being put down so I wanted to do something

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110935827224370152005-03-16T11:44:00.000+10:302005-03-16T11:47:07.236+10:30

A fellow greyhound foster carer with Molly.The Herald Sun is notably generous with stories about rehoming dogs as well as animal welfare in general. They regularly run promotional pieces about the Lost Dogs Home, RSPCA and more.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110930694963171742005-03-16T10:02:00.000+10:302005-03-16T10:21:59.576+10:30

Track season is over and we're heading towards autumn and winter which means cross country and road racing. That's a lot of fun. You haven't lived until you've run ten kilometres through mud in driving rain. It's been a long and tiring summer track season stretching from October. We failed to make the final so the season ended Saturday. The finalists go on into April.I doubled up in most meets,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110834728109881552005-03-15T07:41:00.000+10:302005-03-15T07:42:08.110+10:30

Or does the sheep think it's a dog?Or don't they care?

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110438490910173152005-03-10T17:27:00.000+10:302005-03-10T17:38:10.913+10:30

He was especially affectionate all day today. Like he thought to himself 'this is it! I'm going to be here forever!'.Then Melanie from the Greyhound Adoption Program arrived at 3 o'clock and led Cowboy out to the GAP vehicle, put him in the back and drove off into the distance, taking Cowboy to his forever home. I saw his pale face smiling as the car got smaller and smaller. Then he was gone.Just

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110314394668973012005-03-09T07:08:00.000+10:302005-03-09T07:09:54.670+10:30

Although I'm not sure how you walk a cat.I grew up with cats, not dogs. They were never fat. My father was afraid of dogs, having been bitten by one as a child.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110195926250831802005-03-07T22:10:00.000+10:302005-03-07T22:15:26.250+10:30

I was driving down a mountain and saw one ... two .. three ... four ... lyrebirds kind of flapping across the road. The first looked awkward, like it wasn't really flying. The others, the same.I didn't know they could fly.It was before six in the morning on an isolated road in a rainforest.They looked weird. They flapped across the road with their 'lyre' between their legs.Beautiful.I had only

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1110170059384787112005-03-07T15:01:00.000+10:302005-03-07T15:04:19.386+10:30

It's the funniest thing. It kind of explodes, with chocolatey rice bubbles going in all directions. Then the dog licks up all the yummy shards.Yes, we spoil our dogs.(And don't nobody tell me chocolate is bad for dogs. There's only a little cocoa in chocolate crackles. Not enough to hurt them.)

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1109899189918687732005-03-04T11:43:00.000+10:302005-03-04T11:53:53.403+10:30

Yesterday I took Cowboy to the vet, see previous post. Goldie came too, for the ride. She stalks into the waiting room and heads straight for the weighing machine. Oh, yes, she knows it well.It was around lunchtime. I stood at the receptionist's desk. She had her lunch on the desk. Usually they have like a half-eaten sandwich or maybe a cup of soup. Something like that.She had a flat bowl on the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1109886579450789972005-03-04T08:15:00.000+10:302005-03-04T08:19:39.450+10:30

Cowboy the foster greyhound is on cortisone and antibiotics for five days after his mishap (see previous post).Apart from that, situation normal.I must say, however, the possums on one side and the cats on the other are driving him crazy. Totally crazy. They're driving me crazy too. The cats, not the possums. Why don't people spey their cats? I've disposed of so many stray cats by obtaining the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1109738588172012342005-03-02T14:54:00.000+10:302005-03-02T15:14:43.043+10:30

Cowboy has a mad minute. T. hears a very loud metallic crash followed by Cowboy howling fiercely and then crying piteously.6.01pmShe rushes out to find him on the ground whining. He has a cut on his left rear knee.6.30pmCowboy's leg is all nicely bandaged up and Cowboy is sitting comfortably, like a cossetted child, on his double-thickness mattress, right there in our living room. Goldie is

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1109107398997856072005-02-23T07:48:00.000+10:302005-02-23T07:53:18.996+10:30

Chris finished his three-week stay and went back with a glowing report. Didn't destroy anything, wasn't aggressive, was perfectly behaved and endearing.I may have saved him - his previous foster reports were not good. Cowboy arrived on the same day. Different to Chris's classical curved elegance, Cowboy is stockier and shorter. You have to look twice to see that he is a greyhound. It's his first

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1108700028579999432005-02-18T14:35:00.000+10:302005-02-18T14:43:48.583+10:30

Here's what I cook for the dogs:Chicken stew.I obtain chicken mince - pet grade - from a local butcher for $1.50 a kilo. This goes into a large pot to which I add a grated carrot, a stick of two of grated celery and two crushed cloves of garlic (good for their skin). Cover with water, bring to the boil, simmer for 10 minutes. Then add a cup or two of rice and/or pasta shapes, cook until done.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1108130709217246482005-02-12T00:33:00.000+10:302005-02-15T08:39:52.706+10:30

I started competing in track and field in 1970, age 12. I finally won a Victorian Championship title last weekend. Hmmm. Only took me 35 years. I must be a late developer.OK, it was a 40-plus title, in the 3000 metres walk (an event I came to specialise in over the years) but a title nevertheless.The guy who came second is a retired surgeon who has moved to the country to run an olive tree farm.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1107211538625676562005-02-01T09:15:00.000+10:302005-02-02T09:39:21.216+10:30

Chris (scroll down) is a classically proportioned greyhound. He is so tall, he has to stoop like a new foal to feed. His muscles are powerful and his deep chest curves elegantly back to fine rear quarters. He is all curves. Even his tail curves up and around in a perfect circle. Some greyhounds are squarer, but Chris is the classic pharaoh shape. What's with the name? Who would call a dog Chris

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1107057932419892532005-01-30T14:19:00.000+10:302005-01-30T14:50:55.086+10:30

Haven't written much about running lately but it doesn't mean I haven't been running. Summer track season is now half over and our competitions have been mainly conducted on cracking hot days, with the couple of evening meets also coinciding with very hot weather. Training has proceeded right through summer with speed sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays, a group run on Wednesday evenings and a

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1107055771318255642005-01-30T13:50:00.000+10:302005-01-30T13:59:31.316+10:30

We had to go out twice. First, during the day. The dogs were fine when I got back. I checked everything (I'm quite the detective) and found paw marks in the dust on the sill of the only window reachable from the yard. Chris had had his feet up there seeing if he could get in. Otherwise all OK. Went out in the evening for a shorter time. Back in an hour. Chris had jumped the low vegetable patch

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1106908515655888922005-01-28T20:52:00.000+10:302005-01-28T21:09:39.040+10:30

T. wouldn't come with me to drop off Sailor. Said it was too hot. Well, she's right, it was 35 degrees celsius and the predicted thunderstorms had not arrived. The real reason was that she didn't want to see Sailor go. He was too much like Billy. I dropped Sailor off at the meeting point. The 'fostering' adopters were there. They seemed fine. She had two children who made all the right moves,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1106825616326338802005-01-27T21:59:00.000+10:302005-01-27T22:03:36.326+10:30

T. is sitting with her swollen feet in a low, wide bucket of water to which I have added ice cubes. Sailor approaches from the right, steps his front legs into the water, licks her knees, pants hotly on them. Goldie approaches from the left, drinks from the water. Pants. T. is in pain but she is also in heaven because she loves dogs like nothing on earth.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1106626033381607432005-01-25T14:16:00.000+10:302005-01-25T21:20:41.806+10:30

I was away for a week at the beach. Just three days after Sailor arrived, the lady from the greyhound adoption program left a message on my home phone saying she needed him back straight away because a potential adopter wanted a dog for her son's birthday which was the next day or something. She also said the adopter wanted to 'foster' Sailor for a week before officially adopting. Now let's see

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1106363965680941342005-01-22T13:38:00.000+10:302005-01-22T13:49:25.680+10:30

Well, he is only two years old. He's still a puppy. Sailor the foster greyhound wakes at about five and runs around trying to wake everyone else up. I let him out to pee then he comes back in expecting everyone to be up and about. Well, you do when you're a pup. Except no-one is up. So Sailor bounces up to Goldie (13 this year) and tries to get her going, thrusts a paw at her or gives her a

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1105850433626393142005-01-16T15:07:00.000+10:302005-01-16T15:10:33.626+10:30

A new foster greyhound. He's black and white, two years old and is with us for two weeks. We're his first foster home but he's pretty good, knows how to walk up steps and sit on a rug. He tries to get Goldie going but she won't have a bar of it, just walks away. So he has a mad minute on his own instead. Sailor has a sunburnt nose and we have to apply zinc cream by day. So he's black and white

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1104880572157440032005-01-05T09:43:00.000+10:302005-01-05T09:46:12.156+10:30

First it's Christmas, people go away and abandon their dogs while others buy puppies for gifts, then it's New Year's fireworks. The dog kingdom puts up with all and keeps smiling. With a little help from some human friends.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1104057639379699232004-12-26T21:04:00.000+10:302004-12-26T21:10:39.380+10:30

Two hundred dogs a day are abandoned in Victoria. No, wait, it's way more than two hundred. That's only the number that is taken in by the RSPCA. Take a look into the eyes of one abandoned dog and how could anyone ever subject any dog to the pain of being separated from what it believes to be its pack, its lifeline to ... life?

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1103268875439519132004-12-17T18:01:00.000+10:302004-12-17T18:04:35.440+10:30

He went off to his forever home today. I hope he gets a good family. I found something oout about Clyde the very day before he went. The last six or so dogs had shown no interest in Fetch! so I guess I gradually forgot. Yesterday, I was in the yard - with Clyde following me around, of course, when I accidentally kicked a tennis ball across the yard. He leapt upon it, picked it up and brought

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1103005340371345352004-12-14T16:46:00.000+10:302004-12-14T16:52:20.370+10:30

It's been hot in Melbourne and when it's hot, 12 year old Goldie pants and pants. She doesn't enjoy the heat at all, but she has the presence of mind to sleep in the hallway between the back and front door, catching a nice night breeze. Dogs are clever. That's where I wanted to sleep. Time for her annual haircut. She came home looking like a shorn sheep with the head of a brittany spaniel. I

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1102394267905127822004-12-07T14:47:00.000+10:302004-12-07T15:12:19.956+10:30

There are these things called 'hides' that bird-watchers use to observe birds, secretly. If there was such a thing to watch dogs, here's what you'd see, using Goldie, my Brittany, as an example: Wake. (The dog bed - an old couch - is in the double garage. The dog's bedroom is bigger than my own.) Stretch. Walk out of garage door. Sniff the air. Decide to go back in again. Jump on couch. Do

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1102154584402555642004-12-04T20:29:00.000+10:302004-12-04T21:38:06.660+10:30

Sometimes, it just happens. I've had him for two weeks. He is always pushing his face into me, everywhere. OK, so he likes me. That's OK. Most of them do. Many don't show it. Today, Clyde walked over to me. I was lying in the backyard, on the grass, in the beautiful sunshine, reading a book. (The High Window, Raymond Chandler, 1943.) He sat down next to me and he laid his head across my legs,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1102073256296203622004-12-03T21:48:00.000+10:302004-12-03T21:57:36.296+10:30

We've had him two weeks and he still is showing his entire backbone and six or seven ribs. I am known as the foster-carer who can fatten up those hounds, but Clyde is taking his time. He eats, but not as ravenously as Davy, Eric or Blue. He'll get there, but just not as quickly. Clyde has very endearing traits. He pushes his face into you. Everywhere you go. The regime: Breakfast: Chicken

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1101421752683720312004-11-26T08:51:00.000+10:302004-11-26T08:59:12.683+10:30

Taking summer off means I can do a little more running. Especially with friends, it beats running on your own. Summer track season has started and I've run a 5000 metres and a 1500 metres and also done three walks - 2 x 2000 metres and one 3000. Crazy event but someone has to do it. Numbers competing have dropped off a little, some find it a bit daunting running on the track, compared to

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1101358634836373482004-11-25T14:49:00.000+10:302004-11-25T15:27:14.836+10:30

Seymour on a deceptively hot day. Blue went back to the kennels awaiting his new owner. Melanie said she had been unable to contact her in the last few days. I hope she hasn't had a change of heart. I'd be worried about Blue. Bit worried about him anyway. Couldn't get him near shops and he still shied at just about everything. He'll need the right kind of home and the right kind of owners. Blue

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1100728426945221982004-11-18T08:19:00.000+10:302004-11-18T08:27:00.876+10:30

Melanie called to tell me that they (Greyhound Adoption Program) have found a forever home for Blueboy. Great news. We'll be handing him over at the premier greyhound adoption event for the year - the Greyhound Christmas Party at Seymour on Sunday. We'll pack a picnic and hope for fine weather. Ever wondered what it is like to be among a hundred or so greyhounds and assorted other dogs, all

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1099967598806424912004-11-09T13:56:00.000+10:302004-11-09T13:03:18.806+10:30

I've been fostering Blue, the greyhound, for two weeks and he was extremely timid to start with. He would stop dead if he saw someone ahead, even walking away from us. Gradually he got better, but today he seems to have regressed. Yesterday he saw some people crossing the road ahead of us, then someone flashed by on a bike and then the garbage truck came around the corner. He dug his heels in

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1099871974781831872004-11-08T10:16:00.000+10:302004-11-08T10:31:32.526+10:30

I regularly run along Merri Creek, a pleasant meandering waterway through country-like surroundings to the north of Melbourne. I also walk the dogs, they go crazy with all the rabbits. We took a walk on Thursday in between the incessant showers. By Friday the rain was even heavier, the creek had risen, and an elderly woman from my parish was tragically drowned trying to cross it. There is a low

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1099610331836314982004-11-05T09:46:00.000+10:302004-11-05T09:49:15.910+10:30

Australia's top dog is Charlie Brown, a beagle who was once an unruly family dog. Now he's a quarantine specialist who sniffs out prohibited imports. Now there's a job I'd like (the handler, not the dog). I might call the quarantine service and see if they need any handlers. Time for a career change!

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1099198539616186902004-10-31T15:22:00.000+10:302004-10-31T15:25:39.616+10:30

Great story. Rottweilers are wonderful dogs in the right hands. The Responsible Pet Ownership people (I think it's a state government body) have a Rottweiler that they take to schools to teach kids about dogs. I saw it at the Royal Melbourne Show, you can do anything to the dog and he just sits there smiling. I was cuddling him and petting him, he was like a big baby. Shame some of them get

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1099007646813119612004-10-29T09:22:00.000+09:302004-10-29T09:25:02.450+09:30

And a feisty thing it is too, to be sure. And now he's world famous. Via Tim Blair.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1098921861875471032004-10-28T09:29:00.000+09:302004-10-28T09:42:13.413+09:30

Maybe there's a way, but I don't know. Blue is brindle, medium to small for a greyhound, and well-behaved. We don't have any papers, so we don't know his background or anything about him. (We will find out more from Melanie, the lady from the Greyhound Adoption Program. There is a photograph of Melanie at the Seymour kennels in this article, essential reading for anyone interested in greyhounds

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1098573318753401002004-10-24T08:33:00.000+09:302004-10-24T08:51:18.423+09:30

On the way back from northern Victoria, called into the Greyhound Adoption Program's kennels at Seymour to pick up a new foster dog - Blue, a brindle boy with a bluish sheen to his coat. We were greeted by assorted dogs running about - the kennel doubles as accommodation for any dogs (Goldie had stayed overnight) - and over by the main kennel was a small run with two greyhound pups, totally

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1097618664612861152004-10-13T07:17:00.000+09:302004-10-13T07:34:24.613+09:30

Haven't posted anything about running lately. We ran the 21.1 kilometre half-marathon and I posted about it but Blogger lost it. And then I lost it. Anyway, the half marathon was a little over four weeks ago. T., a little over six months into her running career and having never run more than about 14 kilometres, completed the half in just over two hours. Since then, we've had a few training

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1097535088424334592004-10-12T08:11:00.000+09:302004-10-12T08:21:28.423+09:30

Well, what a line-up. Late afternoon sun streamed into the vet's waiting room as a bunch of scratching dogs waited patiently with their owners. It's the spring itching season. Goldie has been biting herself due to an allergy triggered by spring pollens. As have lots of other dogs. We had seen a pair of beautiful greyhounds being taken from a van in the carpark. One had the most beautiful dark

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1097189761145240492004-10-08T08:18:00.000+09:302004-10-08T08:26:01.146+09:30

Every time we have a foster greyhound, Goldie rushes to her food and starts gobbling it down. Must be a dog competition thing. It was worse when we had Eric, as he was the most voracious eater we have had. We couldn't fill him, the poor thing. He would eat all his food, eye off Goldie's and then look for more. He was particularly thin (the Greyhound Adoption Program lady was pleasantly surprised

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1097017586096783372004-10-06T08:24:00.000+09:302004-10-06T08:54:23.873+09:30

Had lunch with friends Yvie and Tim at Ray in Brunswick. Yvie brought along Arkie, her 14-week-old wire-haired foxie. You've never seen a cuter dog. But naughty! Oh my, Arkie was bouncing around all over the place. Goldie, 12 years old and 'over' puppies put up with her for a while and then finally gave a deep throaty growl when Arkie jumped on her back as she was reclining on the footpath (

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1096881722874411602004-10-04T18:48:00.000+09:302004-10-04T18:52:02.873+09:30

Half-tailed Eric the greyhound went off to his new home and Goldie is lonely again. We visited the Greyhound Adoption Program display at the Royal Melbourne Show. Several foster carers had volunteered to have their dogs on show. It was a very popular display and I hope more greyhounds will be rehoused as a result. The children in particular loved patting the soft furry necks of these gentle,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1095058336734403782004-09-13T16:15:00.000+09:302004-09-13T16:22:16.736+09:30

A new foster greyhound, Eric, arrived. Eric has lost part of his tail, god knows how. When he's excited, it looks like he is waving a baton instead of swishing a nice long tail. Shame. Eric is brindle and is a bit of an alpha male, jumping on the furniture and snatching his food. But he's a good learner and within 24 hours he has learned not to jump on the furniture. On Sunday we took Goldie

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1094612991321245702004-09-08T13:39:00.000+09:302004-09-08T12:39:51.320+09:30

testing, what's happening with blogger

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1093928135685067642004-08-31T14:11:00.000+09:302004-08-31T14:25:35.686+09:30

Two weeks later, I'm still recovering from the 16 kilometre cross country so I've been taking it easy. Last Tuesday, I went for an easy run with Andrew H. and Belinda instead of doing 6 x 1200s - no way was I going to do that. Then Thursday, the program was 6 x 600s around Princes Park. I stopped after four. I said to Tony, 'I'm old and I'm tired and I'm over it.' He laughed. This last Sunday,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1093244172175745522004-08-23T16:23:00.000+09:302004-08-23T16:26:12.176+09:30

When Davey went off to his forever house about a few weeks ago, I posted that he was going to a house with two children and two dogs. We visited him on Sunday and there were more in the household than I realised: two children, two dogs, two rats and seven fish. He's doing well. He gave me a lick of recognition.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1092981749274183642004-08-20T15:24:00.000+09:302004-08-20T15:35:16.203+09:30

Sunday: In the morning, it was sunny so we took Goldie on a big walk around yesterday's sodden cross country course. It was still wet. In the far corner there was a bunch of hunters training their gun-dogs to retrieve and return. GSPs and the like. Wonderful to see working dogs respond to commands and clearly having such a good time. Afternoon: ran a couple of very dodgy laps of Princes Park -

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1092622829448549862004-08-16T11:34:00.000+09:302004-08-16T13:39:51.746+09:30

The forecast was 13 celsius. It got to like, 8. And the wind was blowing off Antarctica (I used to joke about that, but the weather guy said it really WAS blowing off Antarctica!). Not a good day for the Victorian 16 kilometre cross country championship. (Why 16? It used to be the Ten Mile in pre-metric days.) We arrived at Coburg at around 1pm. It was FREEZING! The rain was coming down in

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1092017233429297372004-08-09T11:23:00.000+09:302004-08-09T11:39:47.336+09:30

The running group had a Sunday morning run at Oaklands Park, about twenty kilometres from Melbourne. It's a great spot for running, a public open space that was Melbourne's last volcano about six thousand years ago resulting in much of the north west of Melbourne having a rocky surface - apparently that's why growth spread south and east instead of north and west where getting to the 'bush' now

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1091514973913109982004-08-03T16:04:00.000+09:302004-08-03T16:19:30.430+09:30

We visited the Donkey Shelter last year and sponsored a donkey, Katie. She is beautiful. You can read about her and the other donkeys by clicking on them at the website. They're amazing creatures - and extremely long-lived, which is why many of them are in the refuge, some of them outlive their elderly owners. This particular refuge receives no funding at all from government (yet they'll hand

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1091168280590333712004-07-30T15:45:00.000+09:302004-08-02T16:18:26.540+09:30

We had two women's teams and three men's teams competing in the Harcourt to Bendigo relay. I ran the third leg in Division 5 (plodders), a relatively flat 7.5 kilometre section from the end of the water race to Sedgwick. The water race segment goes through a restricted area, normally open only to the local water authority. It is hilly and rocky. I climbed one of the hills to see if I could see

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1091166761876882912004-07-30T15:12:00.000+09:302004-07-30T15:28:42.886+09:30

The annual 48 kilometre relay from Harcourt to Bendigo is on tomorrow. Looks like I'm doing the 'Hogan's Road' leg of 8.6 kilometres. Never run that before, but some of the others are horrendous. Two years ago I ran the third leg which was five kilometres on a flat road then five kilometres uphill, all the way. Last year I had the water-race leg which was a fascinating experience. It runs along

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1090989672892304532004-07-28T14:08:00.000+09:302004-07-28T14:50:38.766+09:30

They usually go through at least two or three foster home experiences, but Davey the foster Greyhound is off to his forever home tomorrow after having just one foster home. Going to be hard to let him go. He's going to a house with (a) two cocker spaniels, (b) a poodle and (c) a nine year old boy. Yep. Davey's going to be just fine. Goldie's going to be lonely again. Until the next foster

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1090815430207188832004-07-26T13:30:00.000+09:302004-07-26T13:53:45.666+09:30

We have kept Davey the foster Greyhound for a further week and spent this past weekend at the beach. Saturday was bitterly cold yet again. The dogs were up for a big walk and we set off at around one 0'clock after an early lunch. We made our way through the streets of Rye and found ourselves at the beach after probably 30 minutes or so. All the while Goldie the Brittany was pulling hard on

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1090371570789570192004-07-21T10:27:00.000+09:302004-07-21T14:17:35.130+09:30

We have to do a dog assessment on our foster greyhound, Davy. We're his first foster home and the assessment, along with those from two further foster homes, will help place Davy in his 'forever' home. Of course, we want him to go to the right home.   But we don't want to 'oversell' him, if you know what I mean, so that he ends up in just any old home. He will need care and attention and the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1090031330092810872004-07-17T11:57:00.000+09:302004-07-17T12:04:59.373+09:30

Here's the forecast.   'Strong and chilly southerly winds, squally during showers.' Melbourne's chilly wind is notorious.   Not looking forward to the Victorian 12 k cross country championship. It's going to be like running through the Scottish highlands with a glowering sky and a chill wind cutting through us. Might have to wear gloves.   It's on in three hours.   We just decided to leave

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1089690992791089122004-07-13T13:25:00.000+09:302004-07-13T14:28:45.760+09:30

Back to Sandown Raceway for the road relay championships last Saturday. We've had some wild weather conditions at Sandown over the years but the wind blowing into your teeth down the back straight was the strongest I can remember. Added to that, the back straight is an uphill stretch for five hundred metres. At least the sun was shining. We had to run two laps of 3.1 kms each. The guys

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1089619309520394812004-07-12T17:18:00.000+09:302004-07-12T17:31:49.520+09:30

He loved it. OK, it was just a small sliver. And usually we buy the local product, but occasionally, the imported stuff comes home in the shopping bag. Just occasionally. And occasionally, the dogs get a little taste. They love cheese. Davey the foster greyhound has been with almost two weeks and has visited: (a) the beach (b) a coffee shop (c) Sunday lunch at relatives (d) the running shoe

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1089181398443620622004-07-07T15:35:00.000+09:302004-07-07T16:44:32.103+09:30

I couldn't run with shoes on at the weekend because of a massive blister on my heel, due to stupidly wearing a new pair of running shoes without socks. I thought, some salt water will help it and I can enjoy a barefoot run on the beach. So I went to Portsea 'back' beach (Portsea is on a very narrow peninsula with a gentle north-facing bay beach, ideal for swimming, on one side and one of the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1088989161442168932004-07-05T10:27:00.000+09:302004-07-05T12:07:01.066+09:30

Took the dogs to the beach for the weekend. We don't have steps at home, but there are steps at the beach house. Davey managed to walk up into the house, but later, wouldn't walk down again. Tried gentle coaxing, but no deal. After a while, I bent down to his level, physically lifted his forelegs with my hands and placed them alternately on each lower step. And so we made it to the ground, (the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1088742067498240982004-07-02T13:35:00.000+09:302004-07-02T13:51:07.496+09:30

Davey arrived yesterday. He is a big, friendly Greyhound, fawn brindle. Davey is only three and his racing career recently ended. We had a look at his papers. Davey's winnings were $75. For some reason, I don't know why, reading that makes me sad. $75. The poor dog. A princely, aristocratic, noble, elegant masterpiece of nature, and he's tossed out because he only earned $75. Anyhow. Last

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1088740793883278522004-07-02T13:21:00.000+09:302004-07-02T13:29:53.883+09:30

After the Victorian 15k road race last Sunday morning (how I hate running on Sunday mornings!) spent a pleasant afternoon at Thomastown indoor pool, with plenty of time in the spa and steam room. Still a bit sore on Monday, so jogged around Princes park in biting cold conditions, then backed up on Tuesday with the group for a session of three ten-minute hard runs with a three minute rest break

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1088486375635569732004-06-29T14:44:00.000+09:302004-06-29T15:04:22.436+09:30

We will be fostering Davy, a brindle male, three years old, for three weeks. He has failed his racing career and would be a candidate for death or Asia were it not for the Greyhound Adoption Program. It will be his very first experience in an actual house, having lived in kennels. That's correct, three years in kennels. He will be fostered in three different households by volunteers to help him

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1088042368182562512004-06-24T11:28:00.000+09:302004-06-24T16:39:10.496+09:30

What's colder, a south-westerly off Bass Straight (one of the roughest stretches of water in the world) or a northeasterly off the Victorian Alps? Last night it was the wind off the snow. I could feel it 'burning' my cheeks as I ran north along Sydney Road as part of an 8k run including a lap of Princes Park. Brr. The problem with Melbourne's weather (if it is a problem, which it probably

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1087704846198412442004-06-20T13:35:00.000+09:302004-06-21T16:53:03.886+09:30

Goldie the Brittany is losing control of her rear legs when doing something like a full-stretch run along the hallway with a hard left leading towards the back door. Mid-turn, her rear legs flop, failing to achieve traction on the polished floorboards, and she falls over before scrambling into position for a straight-ahead surge at the door. Of course, if she walked delicately, this wouldn't

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1087543037267240192004-06-18T16:36:00.000+09:302004-06-18T16:53:57.053+09:30

Sounds like some weird instrument of torture. It is. It was a cold and windy night at the university track. Goldie the Brittany watched from her warm position amongst the tracksuit tops under the judges' stand as we 'warmed' up. The 'pyramid' is a training session where you run intervals of increasing distance, and then go 'down the other side' - like a pyramid. In this case - after a long

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1087277290306216222004-06-15T14:54:00.000+09:302004-06-15T14:58:59.056+09:30

Three day weekend at the coast. As if we didn't walk around all day, we had a run on Sunday night as well. Started at Rye pier about 4.30, running up the coast along the foreshore to Rosebud. About 13k round trip. Back at the start in the darkness, I peeled off my running gear and plunged into the bay at the end. My, that water was cold! Makes you wonder how anyone survived those shipwrecks

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1086588525398875952004-06-07T15:32:00.000+09:302004-06-07T15:38:45.396+09:30

We met at the track and jogged over to Princes Park near Optus Oval. A long warm up and lots of stretching then the session: 6 x 1600 metres, around the top of Princes Park, along the muddy inner track, finishing at the opposite side of the park, with a 300 metre jog back to the start in between each. It's a killer session, one you don't want to do too often. Times from 5:55 to 6:05, with the

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1086141653612509682004-06-02T11:28:00.000+09:302004-06-02T11:33:20.946+09:30

The guy, Bekele, has run 60 second quarters for an entire five kilometres. Well, a couple seconds over. 12:37.35. That's 7.35 seconds. That is flying. As Craig Mottram said, the guy is off the planet. How ironic - Bekele is not even running that distance at Athens, he's running the 10,000. Bring it on.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1086049927916815562004-06-01T09:51:00.000+09:302004-06-01T15:01:10.706+09:30

In the cold winter sunshine on Saturday afternoon T. lined up for the Victorian 10k Road Racing Championship - her first race as a fully-fledged registered club runner. Sure, she's done the odd fun run and she jogs around Princes Park. But competitive running is something else. It doesn't have to mean coming first or even fiftieth, it's enough to take part in an organised race. The nerves

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1085452581564582972004-05-25T11:54:00.000+09:302004-05-25T12:08:30.760+09:30

I wish I knew how they really feel. We had our first weekend at the beach without Billy. Goldie ran around the backyard looking for ... what? Billy? I wish I knew. We had some visitors, the sister-in-law and her partner. And their two dogs, a Shih-Tzu Pomeranian cross (Lucky) and a cross between that dog and a Cocker Spaniel (Sooty). Literally. Lucky is Sooty's father (sire?). Lucky got lucky!

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1085118972657153122004-05-21T15:09:00.001+09:302004-05-21T15:40:24.416+09:30

Moving into winter has its advantages. One of them isn't running a hill session at Royal Park. For one thing, it's dark and you tend to trip over dead branches. For another thing, the pathway we use is getting old and cracking up, making it hazardous. Last night it had also been raining, and there's nothing worse than doing stretches on cold, wet ground. On the bright side, it wasn't cold, in

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-108502966822304422004-05-20T14:24:00.000+09:302004-05-20T15:08:36.393+09:30

While we were warming up, or trying to warm up, someone remarked he had been colder once - in Canada. Thanks dude. This is Australia. It's meant to be a Mediterannean climate. We started at the south-east corner of Princes Park, after doing run-throughs (fast warm-up semi-sprints over eighty metres) on the darkest and wettest section of the entire Princes Park circuit. Like, can we do it

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1084514243269580092004-05-14T15:26:00.000+09:302006-01-08T13:17:29.830+10:30

Billy died yesterday after the very fast onset of a suspected brain tumour.We adopted Billy from the Greyhound Adoption Program at age eighteen months. He apparently would not run and we suspect he was treated cruelly, as he was afraid of most men.Billy was white and fawn, the most beautiful colour, with a fawn love-heart shape on his side. He joined our twelve-year-old Brittany, Goldie, as part

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1084412351829954042004-05-13T10:59:00.000+09:302004-05-13T11:09:11.830+09:30

Billy the Greyhound is seriously ill, has been sick for quite a few weeks but has taken a sharp downturn. Been back and forth to the vet who is a greyhound specialist, he's very good so Billy is in the best of hands. Could be a brain tumour, off to a specialist tomorrow. It's not looking good for Billy. Goldie the Brittany continues to astound with her robustness and energy. If you want a hardy

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1083916527914138932004-05-07T17:25:00.000+09:302004-05-07T17:35:28.763+09:30

To the day. So it was an appropriate moment to do a track session consistently of 1000m repeats at the old university track surrounded by sandstone buildings and playing fields. It was a cold evening but we soon warmed up. We had brought Goldie the Brittany spaniel along - she was tied up just off the track near the finishing post watching everyone with great interest and getting plenty of

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1083304442113844892004-04-30T15:24:00.000+09:302004-04-30T15:28:19.530+09:30

Well it wasn't so muddy. Two loops of a three kilometre course around the equestrian centre, with a sand obstacle, a couple of low jumps and one splashy section. No hills, so it was a fast course. Lots of people brought their dogs - wire-haired terriers, labradors, cockers and more all furiously sniffing the ground curiously and wondering what all the horsey smells were about. It was a cold day

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1082706059152097202004-04-23T17:10:00.000+09:302004-04-23T17:15:50.420+09:30

Winter racing season starts tomorrow. After drought conditions for months, the heavens opened last night and it hasn't stopped raining. The cross-country course will be rivers of mud by 1.30pm tomorrow afternoon. This will be fun. Everyone is bringing something for afternoon tea which we will eat, steaming from our run and covered in mud.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1082705912247729612004-04-23T17:08:00.000+09:302004-04-23T17:12:40.496+09:30

Billy has a sore head and shies away when we go to pet him. The vet says he has a cold. He may also have a kidney problem as he is drinking to excess. The blood test result comes back tomorrow. Meanwhile, Goldie has a little ... incontinence problem. It's back on the little blue pills for her. She is also going deaf.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1081905941438200072004-04-14T10:55:00.000+09:302004-04-14T11:04:58.153+09:30

There's a particular kind of joy running through green fields that appear to be at sea level, but then you round a curve or breast a hill and see before you, spread out like a photographic tableau from National Geographic, a vista so amazing you draw an involuntary breath. Unless you're running so hard, you're already breathing at full capacity. Which is what I was doing. I was actually chasing

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1081397789475752832004-04-08T13:46:00.000+09:302004-04-08T13:50:17.090+09:30

That's murder on the legs. Run 1500 metres, take a jogged 300 metre break, repeat four times. This stuff seems a lot harder since daylight saving ended. It's cooler and we're running in the dark. I got home to be greeted by two wet noses. OK, dogs, a walk around the block will help get the lactic acid out of my legs I guess.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1080543528260319972004-03-29T16:28:00.000+09:302004-03-30T10:18:32.390+09:30

A Brittany and a Greyhound make a comic sight when you're out walking them. Saturday was hot so we took Goldie and Billy to the Merri Creek, a shady watercourse that is a tributary of the Yarra River. After a few kilometres we came to an enclosed football pitch where we let the dogs run off-leash. Goldie needed no encouragement to tear around, typical Brittany she is; however Billy is a lazy

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1080009896950388632004-03-23T13:14:00.000+10:302004-03-23T13:22:48.030+10:30

It's true. I counted twenty-seven dogs and only twenty-five people at the outdoor cafe. Majority: Golden Retrievers. Then Yellow Labradors, Black Labradors, Cavaliers, Beagles, Poodles, standard and miniature, those little grey terriers with mustaches, a Spoodle, a couple of German Shepherds and a bunch of friendly mutts. One woman had a Shih-Tzu sitting up on its own chair. And of course,

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1079676663435357752004-03-19T16:41:00.000+10:302004-03-19T16:44:23.750+10:30

Cranked out a nice hill training session with the group last night after yet another hiatus with back and hamstring troubles. Five times up a long hill of about 500 metres with a sharp increase in gradient over the last 100 metres. The cross country season is coming up soon and we're all looking forward to running over hill and dale, jumping fences and leaping muddy creeks on cold Saturday

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1077503393725616322004-02-23T12:59:00.000+10:302004-02-23T13:06:20.090+10:30

Spot the English Springer has died, at the very good age of 15. She was a second generation White House dog. The White House is now run solely by Barney, the Scottish Terrier. You can tell how civilised a society is by how it treats its dogs. No arguments. It's true. It just is. Farewell, Spot. Good girl.

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994867.post-1077080456006011872004-02-18T15:30:00.000+10:302004-02-18T15:33:35.233+10:30

No running or race walking for a few weeks, back and hamstring are arguing with each other. I'd be running along and the hamstring would 'grab' suddenly without actually tearing, but then remain rockhard for days on end. Then it would ease, but the back would go into spasm. I had a 3k walk race at Aberfeldie - last round of interclub - and was leading with two laps to go when the hammy locked up

kitchen handnoreply@blogger.com0