A Passing Fancy

Seasons come and seasons go.  That applies to goats as well as calendars, NASCAR, and football.  The girls are back to being just friends again.  Sheila and Tessie go to their own rooms at night now and just hang out together in the daytime.  It was getting pretty intense and embarrassing there for awhile.  Sheila once again wants her head and ears rubbed every morning before I leave the pen.  Tess ignores me as usual.

I can see the sliver of moon and bright-shining Venus in the dark morning sky, so the rain that is predicted for later today hasn't yet pulled the cloud cover over.  Hard to believe, but snow is scheduled for next week.  Yesterday was lovely, and Stove is feeling neglected.  He'll get his turn.  It is, after all, the season.

A mammogram is scheduled for tomorrow, which seems a bit redundant to me after the all-clear CT/PET scan, but I have to go into town for the Holter monitor anyhow.  I'm just glad the two could be combined in one trip.  I'll probably hit Wally World, too.

The Patriots lost the last Super Bowl, but I'm going to put my nickel on them again on Sunday.  I usually give Clay first choice on the games, but this time I'm adamant.  (He's been kicking my butt lately and I've made him financially independent five cents at a time.)

There it is, that oh-so-soft touch on my shoulder that is Ralph's signal he wants to come over onto my lap.  It's how we start every morning, a grand way to begin the day.

A Tree Grows In Fair Play

(Apologies to "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn," a wonderful old 1945 movie with Peggy Ann Garner, Dorothy McGuire, and James Dunn.)

This unusual tree started growing in my neighbor's vineyard weeks back.  It's been fascinating to watch its progress.  First the trunk went up, straight and tall, maybe 80 feet tall.  Then, over time, high-tech decorative panels were put up in two layers near the top.  Nothing else happened for awhile and I thought perhaps it had gone dormant.  Then, out of the blue, the tree started sprouting branches from the top down.  Darnedest tree I've ever seen.  There are spiky twigs all the way to close to the ground, so it's possible that it's going to put out more branches so as to blend in with the little grove Joel left in the field.

I'm guessing it's a cellphone tower, but what do I know?  It's certainly more entertaining than watching paint dry, and about as much excitement as we get in Fair Play.

Normal?

Normal is such a relative term, subject to interpretation, conditions, and change, be it people, weather, or just about anything else.  After that day in the 70s, Nature went back to California winter "normal" and yesterday was chilly enough to warrant a fire.  I fed Stove a healthy helping, but couldn't stick around to enjoy the effect.  I wanted the house warm for Bessie and the cats while I went down to Cameron Park.

I will admit to a certain level of anxiety regarding the results of the most recent tests.  If cancer had shown up in the bone marrow, where else might it be?  Is that new pain or symptom due to age, "normal," or another site of malignancy?  Doctor put my mind at ease immediately upon walking into the room.  "The scans were completely clear."  I am "normal."  Yay!  Being tired and short of breath are signs of the heart arrhythmia that had been found, not to worry.  Doctor did, however, send me back to the infusion center for another round of blood letting.  Needles don't bother me in the least, but I hadn't anticipated being gone so long (takes more than an hour).  Like Dorothy in the "Wizard Of Oz," I wanted to go home!

I didn't dawdle on the way back and made it home before dark.  A couple of pieces of firewood in the coals, the goats and chickens put to bed, and I can honestly say it was a good day.

Another Joke

Nature does love a little giggle now and then.  The crew did all that work and here I am with a winter's worth of firewood, and what did she do?  She turned up the thermostat to 70 yesterday.  It was a truly beautiful day.  I will admit, however, that I felt a little like my daughter at five years old.  All she asked for on her birthday was an umbrella.  They're hard to find in mid July, but I got lucky, and she was thrilled.  There is also no rain in July.  I remember her looking out the window at a clear blue sky and saying, "Mama, don't you think God would make it rain for a little girl with a new umbrella?"  Well, I couldn't let God get a bad rap or let my daughter down, so we went out into the front yard and I turned on the hose so she could march around, dry and happy under her umbrella.  I had to look at Nature's prank as a conservation effort.  I didn't have to light a fire yesterday.

Normally I'm wiped out after a day of company, but yesterday I had an unexpected burst of energy and took care of a number of smallish tasks.  Nothing big, but things that had been hanging fire for quite awhile.  I'm very good at looking at something that needs doing and saying, "Oh, I'll do that tomorrow."  Evidently yesterday was "tomorrow."

I'm off to Cameron Park today.  Oh joy.

Body And Soul

("Body and Soul"  jazz song written in 1930 by Johnny Green.)

A work crew of nine showed up early yesterday morning:  Deb, Craig, Dave, Clay, Jester, Anthony, John, Ray, and Lorraine, and there was very little chitchat before they self-assigned positions and got to work.  In no time at all they were a well-oiled machine, amazing to watch, and watching is what I do best.  If you can't be of help, stay out of the way.

We lucked out on the weather; it was cool but sunny and there was no wind.  Cool was good because this crew, men and women, worked up a real sweat splitting a mountain of big rounds into usable firewood and stacking it.  Deb and Craig took time to tend to some other tasks for me as well before going right back to the chain that had been formed to pass wood from the splitter to the stack.  The only time that machine stopped running was to get a gas fill up.

Ray, John's son, was in a wheelchair recovering from a motorcycle accident last year.  He and I "supervised" (in other words, we watched) until the guys figured out that Ray's chair would put him at the right height to run the lever for the ram and put him on the team.  The grin on that young man's face when he was included would warm the heart of the most-hardened Grinch.

In what seemed like no time at all, the crew had stacked at least three cords of wood and covered it with new tarps.  I am set for the rest of the winter.  There are no words big enough to really express my gratitude for all everyone had done, unasked.  They warmed my heart, body, and soul.  A special thanks to Dave, who organized this day.

As quickly as they had come, they were gone by lunchtime, with a big sendoff of hugs all around.  All but Clay, who stayed behind for white chili and welcome conversation.  I also packed my fourth son a to-go meal for his dinner.

With no need to be miserly, I fed Stove a big helping of wood.  Bess and the cats stretched out on the floor and we all luxuriated in a warm house.  Ahhh.

It was a better-than-good day!

Short List

The list for Helper Dude was getting shorter as he and his worker bees got so much done.  Since I'd not lit a fire for a couple of days, the first thing I asked him to do yesterday was to clean the chimney.  Stove hadn't shown any signs of choking and I wasn't sure the chimney needed it, but it wouldn't hurt to be on the safe side and Dude isn't always available.  Omigosh, there was a ton of creosote when I cleaned out the fire box, as much as I've ever seen.  Talk about good timing!

Next, he fixed a couple of latches on the goat barn door and play yard gate that have been giving me fits.  The barn is old and settling and things are getting out of alignment.  He also changed the recessed bulb in the kitchen.  Let there be light!

HD gave me permission to mention his name.  For anyone in the Fair Play area, Michael Muir is one terrific handyman and I recommend him highly.  He's been helping me out for nearly six years now.  He comes on time, doesn't waste a minute, works hard, and charges a reasonable fee.  There isn't much he can't do.  For instance, Michael had noticed poor Truck's damaged side where he'd been backed into.  Last evening he took Truck back to his place where he had the right tools to pull out the dents.  He brought Truck home after dark so I haven't seen it yet, but I have confidence in Michael.  Maybe Truck won't feel like such a hoopty.

The Kids and crew are coming up today.  I got the white chili made last night and snuck a bowl for my dinner.  I've still got a list of stuff that needs doing before they get here and I'd best get busy.

Java Jive

("Java Jive" The Ink Spots, 1940)

When the four Kids were little, I didn't know what a morning cup of hot coffee was.  Milk to pour, toast to butter, syrup to spread, spills to wipe up, etc., etc., etc.  By the time I got to sit down my coffee was either lukewarm or cold.  I don't like cold coffee.  I am, in a way, back there again, gulping coffee in an attempt to drink it before it chills.  The bedroom is the Farview equivalent of the Arctic circle in the winter.  I don't mind at all when Ralph sits on my lap, as he does every morning, because he's warm.  There's not much he can do for my mug of java.  If I were smart and not such a creature of habit, I'd stand and drink hot coffee in the kitchen, but no, I'd rather sit at the computer and complain.  I'm down to the last few sips of almost-iced coffee.  Sigh.

Busy Bees

I learned yesterday that Dave is not only bringing up the Freed Spirits on Saturday, he'd also possibly recruited Deb, Craig, and Clay.  That's a work force to be reckoned with!  The woodpile doesn't stand a chance.  Dave also said that he and the club members were going down to Placerville for lunch at a new restaurant opening by the owner of Poor Red's.  I haven't been able yet to contact the others, but didn't want to take a chance that they might not join the club so went to Holiday for the ingredients for white chili.  I sure don't want anyone to go hungry after their labors.  Regardless, the chili won't go to waste; it's such a good cold-weather recipe and sure sounds good to me.

Helper Dude drove up in the afternoon with not only the two siblings he'd mentioned, four(!) piled out of the truck.  After meeting the kids, I showed HD the work list I'd put up on the board and left it to him to decide how he'd best spend his time.  I told him he was in charge and that I'd just stay out of everyone's way.  Supervisor HD assigned jobs and they all went to work like a hive of bees.  Twigs went to the burn pile, low-hanging branches were trimmed, the herb garden and driveway were weed-whacked, leaves were blown away from the porch and elsewhere, and fencing was nailed back in place.  Nobody dogged it and it was amazing how much they got done in a very short time before sundown.

Sheila and Tessie are feeling randy again and were more interested in each other than in going to their rooms.  It seems to me that they come into season more frequently as they age.  At any rate, rather than try to wait them out while standing in the cold, I left the big room open in case they changed their minds and said goodnight.  Missy doesn't care as long as she gets breakfast and dinner served in her room.

The hens have started laying again.  It started during the rainy days.  I think they got bored staying indoors and it was a way to pass the time.  I pick up one or two nearly every day now.  Stanley tries a sneak attack every so once in awhile, but I'm ready for him now.  "Back off, Stanley.  I know how to make a pot pie."

Bess, and therefore I, did not have such a good night.  I'm sure I'd just fallen asleep when she said she urgently needed to go outside (she'd been out just before bedtime).  Okay, kiddo, whatever.  I got up, waited for her, and we went back to bed.  We did this three times.  At 4:30, I said to heck with it and got up to make coffee.  It's going to be a long day.

All's Well

Bessie Anne was sick as a dog yesterday, poor little girl.  Fortunately, no barfing, but she didn't even want her morning treats.  She slept nearly all day.  The almost funny thing was that her stomach rumbled and growled almost constantly, sometimes so loudly that it would wake her up.  She perked up some in the afternoon, enough to want to go outside with me when Helper Dude showed up.

I had a pretty long To-Do list for HD.  He's been working full time as a much-needed handyman in the area and it's been difficult to schedule hours with him.  First request:  stock the porch rack with firewood.  He'd bring up a wagonload and when he'd go back for another, I'd sneak a couple of chunks into the house.  I'd not lit a fire in days and Stove was on the verge of starvation.  #2:  get a start on picking up the many fallen twigs and branches brought down by days of wind.  Some of the branches were so heavy I couldn't even pull them out of the way.  No wonder they're called widow-makers.  HD picked them up like they were toothpicks.  When I exclaimed about this, he said, "Well, you've got a few years on me."  (Thanks, kid.)  He took a number over to the burn pile, and then suggested his younger brother and sister might come to pick up the twiggy stuff.  "They won't charge much and a job would be good for them."  I'm all for helper dudes in training so said okay, remembering the Dynamic Duo.  HD climbed onto Not-So-Dear John and mowed down the west field.  Gosh, it's so nice not to have to look at or walk through that scrubby patch of dead star thistle.  HD promised to come back and weed-whack along the driveway.  He finished as the sun was setting.  Good timing as I needed to take the trash down to the big road.  I'm pretty sure he's coming back today.  There are plenty of chores left on the list, including changing one of the recessed lights in the kitchen.  As Cousin Sandy and I discussed last night, I don't do ladders or even step stools anymore.  She doesn't either.

In the evening, Bessie was well enough to eat a little of the food she hadn't touched all day.  It was such a relief to see her obviously feeling better.  She's back to normal this morning, and came in for treats like nothing had happened.  Hopefully it was just a 24-hour thing.

All's well that ends well.

Did I Mention...

Did I mention that we had a little rain recently?  Actually, it was more than a little and it came down like water from a fire hose.  I was finally able to get the salt block out of the truck yesterday and this is what I found.  The forty-pound, rectangular block had been reduced by almost half and the pool in the truck bed rivaled the Great Salt Lake.  Oh well, twenty pounds was easier to manage than forty.  The girls were happy, regardless.  Before returning to the house, I backed up Truck to a slope to drain the water.

Dave called last night to find out if I'd learned the results of the most recent tests.  I haven't.  He asked if I was staying warm.  I happened to mention the woodpile is getting a little low and I am in conservation mode, but doing well.  Omigosh, he immediately started making plans to get the Freed Spirits together to come up and split rounds this weekend.  Did I mention he's a pretty great son?

True to form, I went to bed last night planning a menu.  I've decided on white chili, hot, hearty, and the recipe makes a lot.  It's not supposed to rain, but it will still be cold and the guys will need sustenance.  California cold is not New Hampshire cold.  I called my niece yesterday and it is 1 degree back there before factoring in the wind chill..  Brrrr.

Gee Willikers

Big weather was predicted and big weather we got.  Roaring wind and pounding rain from early morning on, but I did catch a slight break when letting the kids, feathered and hairy, out.  No way was I going to wrestle the salt block down to the pen, however.  The girls would have to eat their alfalfa unseasoned for another day.

It was a good day for football and the playoff games for the Super Bowl were back to back.  Clay and I text back and forth during football and NASCAR, picking our teams and drivers, cheering or razzing as the case may be.  He picked the LA Rams and I had the St. Louis Saints in the first game.  It came down to a tie in the last minutes.  I think he'd agree that a botched call by the referee lost the game for the Saints.  Boo hiss!  Unbelievably, the next game between the Kansas City Chiefs (Clay's pick) and the New England Patriots (my guys) also came down to a tie score.  This time the Patriots came out on top.  Yay!

Not only were both games exciting and tense, during the latter game there was a streaming notice of a tornado warning and that it was coming my way.  Gee willikers, just what we needed.  I thought it was windy before, but nothing like the force that hit us soon after, accompanied by a spell of almost continuous thunder and lightning overhead.  I unplugged the computer, but couldn't make myself turn off the TV when the game hadn't ended.  Priorities, you know.  It didn't last long and we kept power.

The storm seemed to have spent itself after that and we all stayed relatively dry when I put the kids to bed.  I didn't see any immediate damage, but will be better able to assess today when sunshine is predicted.  Fingers crossed.

Pass The Salt

All these recent trips to town and Cameron Park necessitated another trip yesterday to get gas at Mt. Aukum.  At least gasoline prices are down at the moment, and that's a good thing.  I also needed to get a trace mineral salt block for the girls.  The deluge of the past week dissolved the last of the prior block.  There was just a shard left, and Tessie was licking the dirt.  Can't have that.  The DCG (decomposed granite) soil here is deficient in selenium which the goats require and they do love the salt, so it was important to replace the block.  They won't get it until today, however, as I had to bring the handcart up from the barn last night.  A forty-pound bag of feed is heavy, but a forty-pound salt block weighs a ton, probably because it is total dead weight.  It's all I can do to get it out of the truck.

As long as I was out of the house, I made a quick trip to the grocery store.  It was an unplanned trip and unfortunately I had not made a list of the few things I needed.  As I stood in the aisle trying to remember what they might be, a nice young man asked, "Can I help you find something?"  "My mind, for starters."  He laughed and noted, "You didn't  bring your list, did you?"  I guess he'd seen that blank stare before.  I came home without cat litter, but did get liverwurst.  Oh well.

The Gasman Cometh

(Apologies to Eugene O'Neill, "The Iceman Cometh," 1939/1946 play.)

It was most fortunate that there was a break in the weather yesterday because I'd made an appointment to have my propane tank switched out in the morning and that would have been a miserable job in wind and rain.  I'd been with the same company for nearly twenty years.  In a conversation with Camille I discovered I'd been paying top dollar for the gas.  All I knew was that I'd cringe whenever the tanker truck came up the drive.  She suggested an alternate provider so I called.  Same product for half the cost!  Duh.

Gasman showed up right on time and went to work.  I've found it best to let a guy go about his business without interference, so I don't know how he got the new tank down the slope or the old one back up by himself, but he did, and in record time.  GM was followed quickly by a tanker who filled the empty one.  GM lit the water heater and stove top and made sure I was good to go.  It was a revelation when I was presented the bill:  a full tank with the same amount of propane at less than half of what forty pounds used to cost me.  Whoop-de-doo!  I got my giggle for the day when GM was explaining the contracts and why he'd installed this particular kind of tank.  It would be easier to read because I was "elderly," but he couldn't look me in the eye as he said that.  Hey, I don't mind playing the "old lady" card when it makes life easier.

I could feel my cheeks all day, so Stove sat neglected in his corner.  It rained again last night, but without the wind.  I can deal with that.

It was a good day.

Night And Day

("Night and Day," Cole Porter, 1932)

When I wake up, I get up.  It's always dark in the early hours at this time of year, so nothing unusual there, but yesterday it was really dark, as in no clock, no little blue computer light, as in no power.  Thankful for the battery-operated nightlights, I made my way to the kitchen where I'd put the LED lantern that Deb and Craig had given me.  It has a periodic flashing red light so I knew I could find it easily, and I did.  What a godsend.  Actually easier to use than a flashlight, I was able to find my cellphone (which I'd left to charge overnight) and was surprised to see that it wasn't even 2:30 a.m.  Oh well, when you're up, you're up.  My Girl Scout training wasn't wasted and I was prepared.  I keep the tea kettle filled with water and had instant coffee in the cupboard.  The propane stovetop can be lit with a match, so I was in business.  Not only that, I had a new book to fill the time.

The storm continued to rage outside, but fortified with a cup of hot coffee (I indulged and had two) and a good book, I sat at the dining room table and whiled away the hours until daybreak.  I got a good soaking when going out to tend to the animals.  When I opened the door for the girls, they said, "Yeah, thanks Mom, but we're not going out in that."  It's a good thing the chickens are a hefty breed or they'd have been plastered up against the chain link fence and held there by the wind when they stepped out.  Stanley was too distracted to come after me.

No water, no electricity.  The perfect excuse to sit and read all day.  I was hoarding wood and cellphone power, not knowing how long the outage or storm would last.  I started and finished the Kellerman book (I like his psychological mysteries) before Helper Dude came in the afternoon to trim Bessie's nails.  It had quit raining by then and the wind had lessened, but still no lights.  After putting the critters to bed, I started to reread one of Patrick Taylor's "Country Doctor" series, always entertaining, when boop! the lights came back on and I could catch up on the news of the day (and flush the toilets).

It was almost surprising that we were without power for only a night and a day.  We've certainly gone longer.  PG&E has gotten a bad rap lately (and probably deservedly), but they got us up and running in the worst of weather yesterday.

Wishful Thinking

My bubble burst yesterday when I received one of those helpful reminder calls and was informed that, no, the PET scan was not at the hospital in Diamond Springs and that I'd be making the trek to Cameron Park again.  I'd been so happy in my delusion, a clear case of wishful thinking.  I was also reminded that I was to have nothing but water today until after the scan, sometime around 3 o'clock.  No food doesn't bother me, but no coffee this morning is making me really cranky.

A pretty good storm blew in yesterday with wind and rain all day.  This was my view until Stove finally kicked it in gear and started putting out some heat.  The TV was full of news that this was just the little brother to the big boy due today with inches of rain and sustained winds, another reason I'd wished to go no farther than Diamond Springs.  I'm going to leave extra early in case there are downed trees in the road or accidents.

Just in case we lost power as I fully expected, I made sure the cellphone was fully charged before going to bed last night.  It was a nice surprise to find we still have power this morning.

I wish I had a cup of coffee.

Day Tripper

("Day Tripper" The Beatles, 1965)

I really felt I should have packed an overnight bag and a sack of snacks.  Yesterday was a long, long day, starting with a wake-up at 3 a.m.  It's not that I was anxious about the meeting with Vampira...the blood letting doesn't bother me...I just didn't want to go.  "Please arrive fifteen minutes prior to your appointment."  I did.  And waited for the better part of an hour.  There had been an "incident" in the Infusion Center.  I did not ask what the "incident" was; I did not want to know.

The little gal who drew a sample vial was a newbie and it took her two tries.  Oh well.  The Center was busy and a whole flock of vampires fluttered around, red and white tubes hung like Christmas garlands.  My personal RN bat was alarmed at my blood pressure.  I explained that I have "white-coat syndrome" on the best of days, but did not say that even the thought of leaving home elevates my BP and the delays weren't helping.  She contacted my doctor and was reassured.  The phlebotomy was performed without incident and I was finally, finally released.  I didn't exactly stampede out the door, but I didn't waste any time, either.  I was gone almost five hours...day tripper, indeed.

I stopped to check the mailbox before coming up the road and found a rainbow.  Steve's cousin Sandy (sorry, honey, but she's mine now) periodically sends cards of caring and each one is like receiving a huge hug.  One such card was received yesterday and it couldn't have come at a better time.  She followed up later in the evening with a phone call.  At the risk of sounding like Dirty Harry, she "made my day."

Tomorrow I go for a PET scan in Diamond Springs.  Oh goody.

By the way, Stanley behaved himself morning and night.

Don't Start

"Don't start with me, Stanley.  This won't end well for you."

The morning got a bit of a jump start yesterday.  First, when I opened the coop to let the little kids out, there was an egg.  Oh goody!  Neither of the hens has laid an egg in months and I just figured they were past their prime.  I didn't get their resume and have no idea how old they are.  I had already put down food and fresh water.  Stanley always takes the lead leaving the coop so he hopped out and began his breakfast.  I had picked up the egg and turned to leave when I heard him coming at me.  I thought I was close enough to slip through the gate and escape.  Evidently Stanley thought so, too, and kicked it into high gear.  When I shut the gate, we were both on the outside.  Oh crum!  I think Stanley was as surprised as I.  We stood there considering our options.  If I left the gate open to try to herd Stanley back in, there was a risk of the little girls getting out.  If I left the rooster out of the pen, he'd probably not make it through the day.  I don't know what he was thinking.  It was a conundrum.

Rather than do nothing, I grabbed a nearby shovel and when Stanley started to go around the pen one way, I went the other to head him off.  Like a lot of bullies, he didn't want to take on a foe face to face and turned back.  I imagined us going round and round, but he slipped back in through the gate.  To my relief, the girls hadn't even come out of the coop so we were back to normal.  As normal it ever gets around here.

I don't know if Stanley learned anything from this adventure.  When I put the chickens to bed last night, I carried a stick and did not turn my back on him.  No second chances for Stan.

Challenged

In addition to the music I hear in my head on waking every morning, there is a day planner in my brain.  While the coffee is steeping, I go over the mental wish list of things I'd like or need to get done.  The problem is that I am calendar challenged, as well evidenced yesterday when I was sure it was Monday and I had an appointment in Cameron Park.  Yesterday  was Saturday.  The good thing is that I realized it before making the drive.

As Bess Anne ages, she presents problems of her own.  Almost totally deaf now, we've learned together that I can use a simple sign language with hand signals to communicate.  Her cataracts are worsening and I don't know what we'll do if she loses her sight, but we'll find a way.  One of her back legs isn't working well and it's difficult for my stumpy, hefty girl to get her front legs up on the bed or couch so I can boost up her rear end.  It's becoming a two-step process.  I can't lift her in one fell swoop, so get her front paws up and then use them as a fulcrum to boost up the back end.  Where there's a will, there's a way.

Stanley has been getting feisty again, running at me from behind to attack my feet.  The good thing is that he comes with the intent to peck my shoes.  If he ever tries to use his four-inch spurs, this story would have a far different ending.  I had a rooster drive a spur into my calf once.  He was delicious.

With a week's worth of rain in the offing, a chore at the top of the list was getting more firewood up to the porch.  I was good for only three wagonloads before giving out.  If the dry weather holds today, I'll go for a couple more and try to fill the rack.  Damp days chill the house faster than just about anything.

Cats have no concept of personal space.  What's theirs is theirs and what's yours is theirs, too.  It's an illusion that my lap is my own.  Ralph at least gives fair warning of his intentions, but Celeste just suddenly appears out of nowhere and, boop!, there's a cat in my lap.  The worst is when they lie across my arm(s) and I become totally immobile.  Bessie has a dog bed right by my chair.  Every so once in awhile Celeste plonks herself down on Bessie's bed.  It's like a chapter out of Goldilocks and The Three Bears.  "Mom!  There's somebody sleeping in my bed!"  Bess is too polite to challenge the feline, and wanders dejectedly away.

Okay, if yesterday was Saturday (cooking shows), today must be Sunday (football).  I'd better check the calendar.

Friends

Any day is a good day to meet with friends and yesterday was a good day.  Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was running really late getting to the restaurant.  I'd fairly whizzed through the hills, slowing only for a couple of teenage grey squirrels playing chicken in the road.  Fortunately for my self-respect, Cam and Arden had just been seated when I walked in.  We three haven't gotten together much of late and had lots of catching up and laughing to do while attacking large plates of Chinese food.  Chinese restaurants must be the largest purchaser of take-out boxes in the world.  As good as it was, after eating my fill I still brought home enough food for two or three more meals.  After a leisurely lunch, we each had other stops to make (the reason we'd driven separately) and parted company.  Happy birthday, ladies!  The drive home was much calmer.

Sheila, on her own, decided to move in with Tessie in the big room, and Tessie seems to accept her roommate as a friend.  Since both girls have gone on a grain-free diet, there is no need to bring them into the feed/milking room, and it really cuts down on time in the barn.  Let the girls out and in and put food down for Missy in the back stall twice a day and, zip! I'm done.  Strange as it may seem, I miss the close contact of milking.

The dry grasses in the goat pens must be full of some kind of seeds.  At dusk last evening there were, by actual count, forty turkeys "grazing" through the big pen and another thirty over in the vineyard next door.  It's a pretty amazing sight seeing these pedestrian birds in a horde like that.

Thank you, Kit and Emmy, for your words of encouragement in the comments yesterday.  As Stephen King would say, I consider you both my Constant Readers.  Kit and I have known each other for years now.  Emmy and I have never met, but through her comments and an occasional exchange of emails, I feel we have a lot in common.  The blog has given me friends in far places.

A trip to Transylvania (apologies to Bavaria), aka Cameron Park, is on the calendar today.  Vampira awaits.

Blast From The Past

I noted this morning that I have been writing this blog for almost exactly nine years now.  It was fun to go back and read those first efforts.  Not much has changed in all this time.  Less goats, fewer chickens, no sheep, different brother and sister cats, but Bessie Anne and I keep plugging along like we had good sense.  We both move slower these days, but move we do.  Some friends and family have been lost over time, but new friends have filled those vacancies, if not taken their place.  It was such a surprise to read that once upon a time I had not yet met Kit and Tinka; it seems I've always known them.  The same goes for Camille and Arden.  Those two ladies and I are meeting for lunch today to celebrate their late-December birthdays.

I will have lived at Farview for twenty-two years this fall, the longest I've lived anywhere.  Time is such a relative factor.  It flies and drags, stretching on forever and gone in a flash.  Go figure.  Seasons come and go.  Old trees fall and seedlings spring up.  I said it sometimes feels like nothing changes, and yet everything changes all the time.  (A look in the mirror proves that!)

I really appreciate all who read The View, longtime followers and those who pop in for a quick look once in awhile.  There have been readers from ninety-nine(!!) countries, some of which I have no idea where they are (geography has never been my long suit).  It is very rewarding to think Farview Farm is shared around the world.  That is a writer's dream  Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Favorite Things

(It should surprise no one that the song in my head today is from "The Sound Of Music.")

The wind blew and the rain fell off and on all day yesterday.  It was a good day to stay inside and transfer over to the new calendar.  It's something I look forward to every January.  I use the calendar like an event planner, and I like to look back over the past year and see when the Kids came up and lunches with friends, etc., as I put birthdays and anniversaries on the new pages month by month.  This January is already filling up with various doctors' appointments, something I'll be happy to put in the rear-view mirror.

I have a new favorite thing.  That miso-glazed salmon last night introduced me to a word much used these days on cooking shows:  umami.  The combination of miso, sugar, sake (I had to substituted Madeira wine), and Mirin marinade gave the richness of the salmon a tremendous burst of savory flavor.  Eight minutes under the broiler put an appealing mahogany coating on the fish.  I highly recommend it.

"Madam Secretary" is a must-watch TV show for me now, following in the footsteps of "The West Wing" and "The Newsroom."  I record back-to-back episodes so I can immerse myself in the "real-life" plots, and I indulged last night.

I like naps.  I like naps in the daytime and naps before bed.  For a period of time I had a young stepson who once asked me why I took naps (he was of an age when he hated even the thought of having to take a nap), and I answered, "Because I can."  There were years and years when I worked two jobs and quick naps were a necessity.  Now they're a luxury and I make no apologies.

Throw in dog, cats, goats, and chickens.  And my Kids.  First, foremost, and always my Kids.  These are just a few of my favorite things.  La la la lala!

Eye Opener

From wake-up to go-to-bed and anytime in between, being of the female persuasion and using the "facilities" in winter is an eye-opening experience.  That seat is cold enough to make you yelp!  The cats always follow me into the bathroom.  I think it provides some form of entertainment for them.  "Ooh, didja see?  She almost jumped off the seat that time!"  No matter how hard Stove tries, there is just no way he can send heat down the hall.  Ah, the joys of country living.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the trees again.  The wind is blowing...I was going to say "up a storm," but that would be redundant.  It is definitely howling and beating against the house.  Bessie's morning outing only took a minute.  So far, so good with the electricity.  Deb and Craig gave me a small LED lantern, better than a hand-held flashlight, just in case.  There will be no dawdling today during barn chores, for sure, and I'll leave the big room open for the girls.

I saw a recipe for miso-glazed salmon that looked so tempting.  I can't remember the last time I bought a piece of salmon, but I did the last time I went to the store.  The fish needed to marinate overnight, so I prepared it yesterday.  I hope it's as good as it looked.  And that the power stays on.  The stove top is propane, but the oven/broiler is electric.  One can hope.

It's Complicated

Way back in the day when I was a kid, life really was simpler.  We had one family doctor, period.  He was a general practitioner who excelled at diagnostics.  I don't remember ever being sent for tests; he just knew, and set about treating or fixing it.  He delivered my sister's babies, dealt with my father's hypochondria, stitched up my cuts, and accurately diagnosed my mother's slow brain bleed (aneurysm).  He did call in a surgeon to fix that doozy.

Times have changed.  My oncologist referred me back to my GP so I could get a referral to a cardiologist.  Seems like everyone is an "ist" these days and not one doctor can tend to the whole person.  Medicine has gotten so complicated.  There was a good article on FB recently describing how doctors do not look their patients in the eye anymore...they are busy reading a computer screen and typing.  That was my experience yesterday.  The doctor did listen to my heart with a stethoscope, the extent of his hands-on care.  The PA ran an EKG test which will have to be read by a cardiologist who will only tell the GP, and I will undoubtedly have to go back to be told the results.  In the meantime, I need to be fitted with a Holter monitor.  I'm in no big rush for that.  All these trips to town are bad for my nerves.

The rain held off yesterday and Stove outdid himself.  Tessie couldn't wait to go to her room last evening.  I think she's finding Sheila's amorous attentions wearing.  Sheila tried to push in with Tess, but I decided Tessie needed a break and sent Sheila to her own stall...alone.

Second Helping

It was another pig-hat day, cold, cold, cold...and wet...and windy.  Highway 50, the main road over the mountains to Tahoe, was closed completely due to whiteout conditions.  I hadn't realized a whole month had gone by, but the goats had their own way of keeping warm and weren't fazed by the weather in the morning.  I had to go around the yard picking up stuff that had been blown hither and thither.  The front porch is again packed with leaves.  Drat.

I think Stove didn't like the cold, either.  He fired up on the first try and kept us all warm-ish.  (I never took off the hat.)  It was a good day to stay inside and watch football.  I wish the Seahawks had won.  Sigh.

Cold Ham

Stove picked the wrong day to get cranky.  Before dawn an icy-cold wind was howling, seeping into the house through any available crevice.  I fed Stove a good supply of wood and used one, two, three starter blocks (usually one will do) and he still refused to cooperate.  I put on the warm pig hat long before going out to the barn, it was that cold.

Missy led the way to her room and made it obvious that she wanted to be, not only petted, but rubbed warm while she got a start on breakfast.  Either Sheila is used to the hat or she was anxious to get outside where she could move fast enough to warm up a little.  Barn chores did not take long!

Back in the house, I wheedled and cajoled Stove and he finally relented and fired up.  There were places I had to go and I didn't want to leave the house cold for the insiders.

Ordinarily I would not have worn the pig hat out in public, it's more of a private joke, but it was not an ordinary day.  Truck needed gasoline and the wild birds were nearly out of food, so a trip to Mt. Aukum was necessary.  What the heck, my hair was a wreck anyhow after being jammed under the hat and it wasn't getting any warmer outside.  If you're going to do something eccentric, own it.  Laughing inside, I pretended like wearing a large pink pig on my head was the most natural thing in the world.  It was people's reactions that really got me.  There was a glance, a widening of the eyes, and a quick look away as if it could be contagious.

It wasn't until I got up to Holiday that someone finally mentioned my unusual chapeau.  "I really like your hat!"  "I do, too, and it's the warmest one I have."  A daddy was pushing his little girl in a cart and she asked to stop and get a better look.  I guess he thought a woman who would wear such a thing was harmless, because he did.  Cute little girl, and she said she would name the piggy Gracie (her dad said that was her name).

The rain began in earnest on the way home, and the wind was strong enough to push Truck sideways a bit.  I'm not sure that some of those raindrops weren't snow splats, it was cold enough.  Stove had finally accepted his responsibilities and walking into warmth was a relief.  I did not, however, remove my hat.

Quick Fix

What works in theory does not always work in practice, as I found yesterday.  Following directions prolonged the problem, and Beau's solution turned out to be a good preventive measure, but not a cure.  Those rays of hope were an illusion.

When, for the second night in a row, I'd lost water, I did what I'd been told and turned off the pump first thing in the morning and again called Go-To Guy (I've got him on speed dial).  "Hmmm, sounds like there's a slow leak somewhere or (those dreaded, expensive words) it could be down in the well."  He said he'd be over late in the day.

Disheartened, I puttered around and sulked.  In the afternoon, thinking (hoping) it might possibly be a repeat of the day before and just a frozen pipe, I turned the pump back on and got the wagon to restock the wood rack.  And then...as soon as I got to the woodpile, I heard it...running water where there should be no running water.  The standing pipe down by the memorial trees in the south pasture was gushing like Old Faithful.  It had burst up at the top and water was spraying three feet out.  The good part of this story is that when the pipe was put in, a shut-off valve had also been installed and I was able to stop the flow...all by myself!  Ta da!  I again phoned GT and called off our date.

If I'd done a walk-around before turning off the water, the leak would have been immediately apparent.  If Beau had driven out the other direction after covering the pipe to the pump, he would have seen it as he passed.  If I had not gone to get wood before going back in the house, I'd never have heard the water.  Timing is everything.

I love a quick fix.

Down The Rabbit Hole

Even though Go-To Guy works out of his home, I try to observe normal business hours and waited until 8 a.m. to call him.  "Hey, fella, how's your day shaping up?"  "You're the fourth call so far this morning."  "Can I get on the list?"  "Yup, but I don't know when I can get there."  He told me to go ahead and flush and draw a pot of water, and then turn off the pump.  I follow directions well, especially when I don't know what I'm doing.

Cleaning the kitchen had been the planned project for the day, but without water obviously that wasn't going to happen.  Frustration was the impetus to get me moving in other directions and there was plenty of housework to keep me busy.  Dusting was last on the list.  Determined to do a better job on that onerous task, I was getting into neglected nooks and crannies when poof! the television went dark and silent.  Aarrgh!  No, the power was still on, just no TV.  One learns early in life never to ask, "What else can go wrong," but this seemed a bit much.  I pushed this button and that with no results.  I looked at the television and it looked back with one giant black, unblinking eye.

I finally called and left a message for Beau, who deals with things electrical.  He stopped by later and in a matter of minutes discovered that in my enthusiastic dusting I'd evidently hit a button that I didn't even know was on the side of the screen and turned off the "input" (whatever that is).  Ta da!  The TV was up and running again.  "As long as I'm here, let me take a look at your water problem."  I explained that GT would be coming, hopefully soon.  "Oh, it's no problem.  I'll just take a look."  Well, the problem seemed to have been a frozen pipe going into the pump that had thawed as the day warmed because when the valve was turned, there was a full force of water in all the faucets in the house.  The dadratted squirrels had chewed off the insulation on that pipe.  I had a stick of the foam that I was going to ask Helper Dude to put on.  Beau insisted he'd do it, and he did.  I left a message for GT and gave him the day off.

The day had been emotionally draining and I was tired and decided to leave all other projects for another time.  I was happy that there had been a satisfactory ending to the situations.

And then we went to bed and it was deja vu all over again (I love that Yogi Berra quote).  The toilet gurgled and the faucet trickled and I wasn't out of the rabbit hole yet.  Move over, Alice.  Sigh.

Oh No!

It had been a rather uneventful day yesterday, nothing out of the ordinary, and I was fine with that.  I'd started the fire before chores so, if not warm, at least the knife edge of cold was gone from the house before noon.  I watched the second half of a four-hour documentary on the American circus that reminded me of my dad (another story for another day).  Later in the evening, with a lapful of cats, I fell asleep in the chair for my nightly pre-bedtime nap.  All in all, a pretty good day.

Waking in the wee hours, the dog, cats and I paraded down the hall to go to bed and I went about my usual routine: filled Bessie's water bowl, used the facilities and flushed,  and started to brush my teeth.  "Houston, we have a problem."  The water flow had slowed to a trickle.  Let's just say that's never a good omen.  There was nothing to do about it at that hour, so I climbed under the covers and the critters took their places.  They went right to sleep while I ran expensive scenarios through my head, dollar signs instead of sugarplums floating by.

I was able to squeeze out enough water for a cup of  coffee this morning.  That's a good thing or it could have been ugly.  As early as is feasible, I'll put in a call to Go-To Guy and hope he's not booked up for the day.  He's come to my rescue time after time.  It must be nice to be needed.

Stay tuned.

What Is That?

I'm not sure if the animals are saying, "What is that?" or "Who are you?'  Because it's been so cold lately (not Fargo cold, but pretty darned cold for California), I've been wearing the fleece-lined pig hat Dave gave me last year to do morning barn chores.  It's a lot more piggy than the knitted pig cap he'd given me before, and it's definitely getting a reaction.  Sheila will not come out of her stall until she's given me a thorough inspection.  She sniffs the hat all over and then does a double check on my face, huffing warm breath over my eyes and cheeks.  Only when she's satisfied I'm really me will she allow me to lead her into the feeding room.  Tessie just makes a quick exit and Missy is more interested in breakfast.

The chickens couldn't care less what I've got on my head.  Celeste gets one glimpse and runs for cover.  She'll peek around the corner and duck back, and won't come out until I've taken the hat off.  Ralph takes everything in stride.

Deb sent an early morning New Year's Day text yesterday, ending with, "Stay warm, Mom."  Ha!  With that Arctic blast of the night before, the house was freezing, and I do mean 32 degrees.  Even with Stove trying his best, it was past 1:00 before I could even feel my face.  He's gobbled up half a rack of wood in just the past four days.  The cold has really affected Bessie's arthritic back leg.  Poor old girl hobbles around from one spot to another and it's painful to watch.  It was trash day and she couldn't make it out to the truck.

With the critters' reactions to my hat, I'm just glad I haven't run into my neighbors in the morning.  I can only imagine....

Twernt Nuthin

"Hello, can you come in early?  Like now?"  Oh good grief..  It takes a crowbar to pry me loose from home in the first place...early?!  You've got to be kidding.  "The best I can tell you is that I'll try, but I'll see you when I see you."  Moving like a reluctant whirlwind, I was ready and on the road by 11.  I was wrong about getting ahead of the nutsos.  Some idiot passed me going 70 on a particularly winding spot on a blind curve.  It didn't bear thinking about all the possible what-ifs.

Okay, so I get to Cameron Park and after filling out all the paperwork associated with a new doctor (I don't remember when I had my tonsils out), I met the new guy.  Turns out I have a couple of things going on that were not previously mentioned or explained that need attention.  Okay, what's the plan?  It felt like I'd stepped back into medieval times when he said I should have a phlebotomy (blood letting) asap, as in yesterday.  I met the real vampire (the one who did the blood work in early December was just an apprentice).  At least she didn't use leeches.  I'm not talking about a couple of vials, I mean she drew an entire bag of blood!  Go with the flow took on  whole new meaning.

In the grand scheme of things it twernt nuthin, but I was really glad to get on the road and homeward bound.  Coming back up through the hills from Cameron Park, there is a beautiful view of the snow-capped Sierras that I can't see from the house.  I'd planned on making a couple of other stops on the way home but decided to skip them and get to sanctuary.

A brisk, cold wind had blown all day.  The goats and chickens were glad to get inside, and Missy was waiting for her dinner when I went into the barn.  Reheated chile verde (again) was warming.  It's a good thing I like leftovers.

By bedtime the wind was a real howler and the temp was dropping to freezing.  Other than that, New Year's Eve was quiet except for the expected gunfire at midnight.  How else would I know that the new year had begun?