Hit The Deck!

The Record, Pause, and Rewind buttons got a workout yesterday.  Saturdays are usually spent inside watching back-to-back cooking shows, but Bess and I were lured outside several times to sit on the deck and enjoy the sunshine and the view:  blue, blue sky and the cumulus clouds over Yosemite.  A few of the anemones are blooming and I again cursed the squirrels who decimated all the other flowers that should have adorned the deck.  Between the squirrels and the drought, all the pots are a ghost town.  I would replant, but it makes no sense to spend the money just to feed the furry little boogers.  The first peony popped up in the herb garden and I'm grateful that Robert the Raider and his cohorts have no taste for peonies.

Back in the house, I saw a couple of recipes I'd love to try:  a white bean and crisp bacon bruschetta and a North Carolina fish stew (not together).  I'm thinking it's time to get the Ladies organized again.  There are some recipes that make too much for one person.  It took over a week to finish leftover corned beef.  There can be too much of a good thing.

We're promised one more day of sunshine before the rain returns, so the buttons will be used today for NASCAR   Bessie Anne and I will be hitting the deck while we can.

Another Quote

"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers," Blanche DuBois' line in "A Streetcar Named Desire" (1951 film, Marlon Brando, Kim Hunter, Vivien Leigh) came to mind yesterday.  It isn't entirely accurate for me because I'm pretty independent, but close enough.  I was getting ready for barn chores yesterday when I was startled to see a man's shadow walk across the front porch.  I hadn't heard a vehicle drive up and certainly wasn't expecting company.  It turned out to be my neighbor Beau, unannounced, who was bringing firewood up to the porch.  I hate to admit it, but it's something that I struggle with anymore.  Beau filled the rack to the top and chided me for not burning more.  I know what it takes to split, stack, and bring wood to the house and so try to be frugal with the supply.  Beau isn't a stranger, but he certainly is kind.

It was a sunny day all day for a change, but the house was cold even though I'd had a small fire the day before.  Taking Beau's advice, I lit Stove and kept him fed.  For the first time in days I luxuriated in warmth.

It's very frustrating when I know that the new TV receiver can do a thing and not know how to do it.  Dang the provider for not providing a manual!  Nothing for it but to call the Help Line again.  If I were to get the same tech each time, we'd be on a first-name basis by now.  There I was again, depending on a stranger.  She patiently walked me through the process.  My hangup seems to be that there are some procedures when the "button" has to be pushed twice.  Who knew, and how could one know?

The sunshine was inspiring and I actually earned my pay yesterday.  It was a good day.

False Alarm

All predictions were that yesterday was going to be Round Two of the changeable, sometimes violent weather of the day before.  One of those alerts was even sent out over the television, warning of another possible thunder storm.  Either Nature was worn out or she was laughing up her sleeve because it was, as Michaleen Oge Flynn would say, "A fine soft day." (Barry Fitzgerald, "The Quiet Man," 1952, John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara).  It was, however, a good ten degrees colder and a drizzling mist fell until the real rain came in the afternoon.  I finally weakened late in the day and lit a fire.

It was a good day to stay inside and pay bills (now there's an oxymoron) and clear up a lot of acccumulated paperwork.  Every so once in awhile Celeste will take over Bessie's dog bed in the living room.  Bess alternates between that bed and "her" loveseat for her naps.  I always feel sorry for Bess Anne when the cat appropriates her bed.  Bessie is so polite that she won't disturb Celeste, but she paces hopefully back and forth until she finally gives up, sighs, and goes over to climb up on the couch.  Once upon a time she would just jump up, but now age and arthritis means a painful struggle to pull herself up.  When Robert Browning wrote, "Grow old along with me.  The best is yet to be," he obviously was still young.  Bette Davis knew what she was talking about when she said, "Growing old ain't for sissies."

After the false alarm yesterday, it will be interesting to see what Nature has in store today.  I've told Stove to be prepared, just in case.

Keep Up!

We had a gamut of fast-changing weather yesterday and it was hard to keep up.  It started with a fairly clear sky and strong cold winds.  Throwing alfalfa over the fence for the girls left me liberally sprinkled with the blowback.  Forget the hula, the pines across the road were snapping back and forth.  Bessie Anne's long bangs were blown back like she was standing in the bow of the Titanic when she faced into the wind.  It calmed down later and I thought we were done with it.

Then the sky darkened, the cloud cover moved in and it started to rain...heavy rain...before it turned to hail. This was taken after the first dump that had lasted maybe ten minutes about 3 o'clock.  There was a second round a little later, and it was cold enough that it didn't melt.

Okay, so far, so good.  That was the thought before the thunder and lightning began.  Holy Toledo!  I  ran to unplug the computer, remembering the blue sparks that flew into the room when the transformer blew.  One strike was so close that the immediate clap of thunder was deafening and shook the windows.  Way too close for comfort!  There was just a brief blip in the electricity (I'd expected that it would go out), lasting just long enough to have to reset all the clocks.  Could have been worse.

Essentially the same view about 7 p.m.  Go figure.  Nature had pulled out every trick in her bag and she was done for the day.

Vampire Hall

Vampire Hall was a busy place yesterday.  Every one of the numerous chairs was filled.  It's not only a place for phlebotomies, but also an infusion center for cancer chemo patients.  I'll say this for the vampire nurses and their acolytes, they are wonderful, caring hostesses, offering warm blankets and pillows.  Bakyt has been my nurse before and I'm a big disappointment to her.  "Can I get you a cookie?  How about a cookie, or maybe some juice?"  "No, nothing, thank you."  "You really should have something."  "I couldn't get it down."  Finally, seeing her sorrowful face, I accepted a cup of coffee.  The one thing I do really well is bleed, so well that she couldn't get it to stop.  Well, she asked for it.  I did my part.

On the way home I stopped to vote.  As I was signing in, I gave my last name and a woman in the back of the room said, "Would that be ____________, mother of many goats?"  Laughing, I said yes, but I didn't recognize the speaker.  I haven't seen Joyce for fifteen years.  It was she from whom I bought my first goats, Lucy and Ruth, all those years ago.  She and her husband Glenn were wonderful, patient mentors and taught me so much.  What a pleasant end to the day.

I didn't earn my pay yesterday,  A trip to the Hall really takes it out of me in more ways than one.  The most I could accomplish was taking the trash down to the big road, and that was a sad trip for me.  Knowing how afraid Bessie is to get out of the truck now, I had to sneak the bag out of the house when she wasn't looking and make the drive without her.  I guess that's the way it will be going forward.  I gave her a treat when I got back just as I would have had she gone along.  Some habits are too hard to break.

The wind and rain held off until after dark, but there was enough of a chill in the air to justify firing up Stove in the late afternoon.  It was an interesting day.

Blowin' In The Wind

(Song by Peter, Paul and Mary, 1962)

It was an apt theme song for yesterday.  The tall pine trees on the ridge across the road danced a hula all day and I faced into the south wind while walking down to the barn.  The chickens' feathers were ruffled, but not by me (for a change).  If it's not raining, wind makes animals go a little nutso.  When I was a girl and riding horseback, a windy day assured a wild ride.  Even in their pasture, my horses would buck and run just for the fun of it.  Usually sedate, Sheila and Tessie ran up and down the hill, stopping now and then to charge at each other to butt heads.  I always worry about that because of Tessie's one horn.  Going into battle with her, even a mock one, is like going into a gunfight armed with a spit wad.  I don't know how she does it, but in all these years and all their altercations, Tess has managed not to hurt any of the others.

We have a week of rain predicted.  Hmmm, was it cold enough to light a fire?  Almost, but in the interest of conservation, I held off.  I did just enough work to keep my job.  (No sense overdoing it.)  There was something I needed to do with the new TV receiver.  I've learned where most of the "help" buttons are, but none for what I wanted to do.  Nothing for it but to call the Help Line...again.  The nice young man (well, he might not have been quite so young because in the course of conversation I found that he, too, likes old black-and-white movies) walked me through the process.  I asked which Help button I could go to should I need to repeat the process.  Since we were connected through my television I could see him searching this one and that.  Finally he said, "You know what?  That question isn't addressed and I'll have to report that to Technical."  At least I didn't feel like such a dunce.

I'm off today for another trip to Vampire Hall.  Oh goody.  Getting blood drained every three weeks is not my idea of a fun outing, not that I consider most outings fun.  At least the wind has stopped blowing.

Get A Job

I've come to a decision.  I don't know if it will work.  If it does, I don't know how long it will last.  We'll see.  It's no secret that housework is the bane of my life.  Without the impetus of company coming, I take a pretty lackadaisical approach.  I've decided that I've been going at it all wrong and need to make a change in my thinking.  (First the thought, then the deed.)  I was always a good employee when I worked outside the home, and was disciplined enough to keep a lucrative home transcription business going for over ten years.  My decision is that I've been going at this business of housework all wrong, fitting it in when the mood struck.  I need to think of it as a real job, like it or not.  My plan is to take on at least one task to accomplish every day and to stick with it.

I made a start at turning thought to action yesterday while watching Bowyer come in in the top ten at the race in Martinsville by stripping the bedclothes and putting the laundry servants to work, and then remaking the bed.  (Although sunny, it wasn't warm enough to hang the sheets outside to dry.)  It wasn't a monumental start, but it was indeed a beginning.  Living alone over the years, it has been very easy to slip into a state of ennui and just not care.  I do care about my home and just haven't been doing right by it (or me).  I'm tired of not earning my pay.

I could see the wheels turning in Stanley's head while I was gathering eggs yesterday.  "Don't do it, buddy, don't do it."  He looked me in the eye and evidently thought better of an attack.  He casually went back to pecking at his breakfast.  That was good for both our sakes.

Missy met me in the pen to lead the way to her bowl.  It's not just the food she wants, and she's not subtle about wanting to be petted.  My reward is hearing her purr.  How glad I am that this little girl has chosen to spend time with me.

I'm trying to decide on the agenda for the day.  After all, it's my job.

Keep Rolling

With all the felled hunks of tree in the goat pen blocking what used to be the well-worn path from the gate to the barn, it is now a bit of a struggle to find a new way down to feed Missy.  The theme song that came to mind was "The Caissons Go Rolling," a WWI anthem that goes, "Over hill, over dale...."  That was me yesterday, trying not to slip in the wet grass (it had rained all night) and lose my footing.  It didn't help that Sheila was again feeling needy and constantly pushing against my side.  Mission accomplished, I "hit the dusty (make that soggy) trail..." back up to the house.

Much colder than the day before, Stove had to take the early shift and go to work.  I fed him a big helping of hot-burning cedar and the slow, steady, and longer-lasting oak   He seemed happy and  warmed up the room in no time.  I settled in to watch the Saturday cooking shows.  I'm becoming more proficient with the remote and didn't have to call for help once, although I'll try something, do what I wanted to, and then think, "Now how did I do that?"  Oh well, guess I'll just keep rolling along.

The Road Home

Like it or not, a trip to town yesterday was mandatory.  Oh well, nothing for it but to do it.  For whatever reason, possibly the prediction of days of rain, there was more traffic than usual on the road and they were in a hurry.  I am perfectly willing to pull over to let people go past, but there are few places on our little two-lane roads to do so.  It's not like I'm going little-old-lady speed, either (the Kids' dad used to call me Juan Fangio).

The shops in town were more packed with people than I've seen before.  It was an interesting experience.  A woman even older than I started a lengthy conversation about her small chihuahua dog, a cute little dog wearing a camo hoodie that said "I reserve the right to bear arms."  She explained that the dog was registered as a PTSD service dog and went with her everywhere.  The clerk behind the counter gave me a lecture, or sermon, on the coming end of days.  As I said, interesting.

Why is it that the road going home seems so much shorter than the trip going?  Maybe because I didn't want to leave in the first place.  With less traffic, I had time to really appreciate the scenery.  Many of the now bright green hillsides were blanketed with daffodils and dotted here and there with flowering pink or white fruit trees.  Being from an age when there were soda fountains in every drugstore (just the one in our little town) where ice cream floats were made to order by hand, the trees reminded me of that time.  My mother always ordered a "black cow," a soda made with chocolate ice cream and root beer.  I asked for a soda made with strawberry ice cream and crushed pineapple syrup, and my dad wanted straight strawberry.  The trees brought back memories of the pink and white froth.  As an added fillip, the yellow acacia trees are just now coming into bloom and here and there are salmon-colored flowering quince.  This is such a beautiful time of year.

The sky was just starting to spit rain when I got home, but it was chill enough to put Stove to work.  I settled in to watch "Westward The Women," (1951, Robert Taylor, Denise Darcel, Hope Emerson), one of my favorite westerns of all time.  Mother had worked as a waitress in the coffee shop at Santa Anita racetrack, and would tell of the many movie stars who would come to her station.  Barbara Stanwick was then married to Robert Taylor.  She would wear no makeup, but Taylor would.  In "Westward The Women," he was as rugged as they come.  It is, in my opinion, one of his best films.

Gosh, I was glad to get home.

Cats And Dogs

When Clay was here, he mentioned that he'd seen Missy just sitting out in the goat pen when he rode up and asked if she ever came up to the house.  She tried it a couple of times, but Bess was having none of that.  Bessie loves "her" cats, but will tolerate no others.  Missy was probably hunting, or at least patiently hoping for the ground squirrels that I see more of every day.  Good on ya, Missy!  Missy was again in the pen yesterday morning and ran up the path to meet me.  Like all cats, she doesn't ask for, but demands to be petted and stroked.  "Okay, lady, that's enough now.  Follow me and I'll show you the way to the cat food."  It's a good thing that humans are so easily trained.

Along those lines...the normal (such a relative term) morning routine is this.  Treats for Bess and the cats are given just before I go down to the barn.  It happens every so often that one or the other sleeps in and misses roll call.  Well, if you snooze, you lose.  Unless you're Celeste.  Routine is one thing, treats are another.  If she's the one left out, any time I go into the kitchen later she'll wind herself around my ankles, crying as  if her heart was broken.  "Please.  Please please please!"  What can I say?  I'm trainable.

I fear that Bess has made her last trip to the cookie store, also known as the feed store, where we went yesterday.  Lately her failing eyesight has made her afraid to jump out of the truck at home.  I think her depth perception is gone.  She used to fly out like Mighty Dog (cartoons from 1964).  Even with encouragement and the waving of cookies in front of her nose, it takes such a long time for her to work up the courage now.  It breaks my heart.  I can boost her hind end up onto the seat, but she's too heavy for me to lift down.  I even buy two 20-pound bags of birdseed now instead of the 40-pounders of the past.  I don't want to put her through that, though I'll miss my traveling companion.  I'll still bring her cookies.

A sure sign we've passed the vernal equinox are the blooming plum trees.  This old tree, here when we moved in, as well as the two younger ones I planted in the west orchard, have burst into bloom.  The reason this old girl is so bent is because the deer use the trunk like a ladder to reach the ripe fruit.  The peach and cherry trees are always a little slower to join in.  The cherry tree has never borne fruit because cherry trees need a male and female close by, and the prior owners never planted a male.  Another sign is that I'm seeing the first Baby Blue Eyes pop up.  Such cheery little flowers.

One reason for going to the feed store yesterday was to get gasoline so I can go into town today.  Sigh.

Old Dogs

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I'm working hard to prove them wrong.  A good portion of yesterday was again spent with the new remote control in hand.  I'm pretty comfortable now with the basics, but on this device each button can do a dozen things and without a manual, there is no way to know what they are.  The dadratted thing should come with a sign:  "Warning!  Slow learning curve ahead."  I got myself in trouble only once and had to call for help so I'm making progress.  It's not that I'm stubborn or anything, but I refuse to be beaten by a machine.  I shall overcome!

There was a soft rain off and on all day.  I considered lighting a fire, but it wasn't really cold enough.  It's a sign of my desperation with the remote that I'd take a break and do housework, so the day wasn't a total loss.  Beau and one of his kids stopped by in the afternoon just to visit.  That was better than dusting.

Bessie Anne rarely leaves my side.  She can be sound asleep and if I leave the room, it will only be a minute or two before she follows.  She's almost completely deaf now, so how does she know?  She goes outside alone on a potty run, or into the kitchen for a drink of water, but otherwise we're always together.  All this by way of saying it scared me last night when I heard what I thought was Bess going down the stairs alone.  Neither of us goes downstairs anymore because we both have trouble getting back up.  When I checked, sure enough there she was, and she couldn't climb the stairs without help.  Whatever possessed her to go down there alone in the dark?  With a boost now and then and a lot of pauses, we came back up together.  I suppose old dogs can go senile, too.

A Day With Clay

Time spent with any of my Kids is golden, and yesterday it was Clay who filled my heart.  When he arrived, I was still pushing buttons on the new remote and watching "Turner And Hooch," (1989 film with Tom Hanks, Beasley the Dog, and Mare Winningham).  Neither Clay nor I had seen that movie in years so that was the entertainment for the day.  That, and Clay laughing at me as I tried to navigate the system.  I'm getting better, at least I can get myself out of trouble when I fall in it now.

There was another problem, possibly due to an increased dosage of a new medication, but it left me so shaky that Clay pretty much had to fend for himself.  Those shaky days come and go now, but sadly I wasn't being very hostessy.

It's a sign of Clay's gentle nature that he is an animal magnet.  Bessie Anne is always at his feet.  Ralph visits his lap frequently, and even the elusive Celeste comes out of hiding to greet him.  Animals know instinctively who can be trusted.

It was warm enough yesterday that he had ridden his motorcycle, but the sky was darkening in the afternoon and rain was predicted.  I sure didn't want to push him out the door, but it was more important that he be safe.  Grown up or not, I still worry about my Kids.

It was a good day.

Really?

Surprise!  One of the last things I do in the morning after writing the blog, etc., is check my email, and yesterday there was a notification that the TV server upgrade appointment that I had scheduled was due here at 9 a.m.  The thing is, I had not scheduled any such thing and had no idea what was going on.  I know my connections aren't always tight, e.g., the slow cooker, but I would have known if I'd requested an upgrade.

Phone call #1:  "What the heck is going on here?  I certainly didn't order any upgrade and I'm not sure I want one."  "Well, ma'am, we see you're due for one and our technician is scheduled to bring you the new receiver today."  Hmmm.  Did I mention that they'd already shut off the old one and that I had no television reception?

At the indicated time, a very pleasant young man arrived and explained that the company was no longer servicing the old models and was replacing the equipment at no charge.  Okay.  He then set to work, saying that there were many changes in the system, but not to worry, he'd explain everything and I would "love" it.  He changed the satellite dish on the roof and set up the TVs in the living room and bedroom, both of which took time.  Then he pulled up a chair and began showing me all the changes in the new remote and all the great things it could and would do.

I should explain here that Steve had been a remote freak and had an elaborate system with controllers for everything, and not just one...it took at least two just to turn on the television.  I gave up.  It wasn't until we got the then-new satellite system that I had to learn or never watch television again.  The day it was installed, he left for a three-day conference.  Aaargh!  I sat for three days with the manual in one hand and the remote in the other and worked until I learned that sucker backwards and forwards.

The young man was explaining all the new features and I was trying to cope, but the new equipment is nothing like the old and there are few to no labels on the buttons.  I am a visual learner and always have been.  Spoken instructions literally go in one ear and out the other.  He tried and I tried.  He left.

Phone call #2:  "Please send me a manual."  They will.

Phone call #3:  "The picture no longer fills the screen."  They fixed it.
Phone call #4:  "How do I...?"
Phone call #5:  "I am not able to...."

It was not how I planned to spend my day.

Day Late

As the saying goes, "Day late and a dollar short."  I couldn't believe what I did (or didn't do) yesterday.  Early in the morning I put the long-awaited corned beef in the crock pot with the brown sugar and apple juice (if you haven't tried it that way, you don't know what you're missing) and turned on the switch.  I did think it odd that there weren't those yummy aromas in the afternoon, but I'd been busy and, after all, the slow cooker didn't need my help.  Around dinnertime I went in and, oh good grief, the pot was cold.  Had the darned thing gone wonky?  What the heck?!  No, it was me who had slipped a cog.  I'd done all the preparations and hadn't plugged it in.  Sigh.  Oh well, I look forward to a corned beef meal for lunch today, just a day late.

A Tree Grows In Fair Play

(Apologies to "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn," 1945 movie with Peggy Ann Garner, Dorothy Malone, James Dunn.)

This tree in the front pasture has fascinated me from the time we moved in.  How, given the fact that others have fallen, does this tree remain standing and still lives?  The entire heart, the inner core, has come out, leaving nothing but the shell and yet, every spring those bare branches leaf out as if the tree were whole.  After every wind storm I expect to see it lying on the ground, and still it stands.  It is an example of resilience, failure to give up, and determination.  If anything, this tree is an inspiration.

The day had been sunny and warm.  Bessie Anne and I spent a good hour out on the deck in the afternoon, just enjoying the view.  There was something strange though.  There was not one bird in the sky and no bird sounds were heard.  No vultures, no crows, no dinky birds, no turkeys.  Weird.

After dark, the temperature plummeted.  I didn't light a fire, but did cover Bess with Deb's beautiful afghan as she napped.  It was a selfless act.  I put on a heavier jacket.

It was a good day.

All Is Well

Ohmigosh, I can't remember the last time I slept until sunup, old or new time.

I'm not the only one who missed the sunshine during the rainy days.  It was warm enough yesterday morning to leave the door open (until the sun moved away).  Ralph and Celeste looked like beach bums basking in the warmth.  Bess took longer than usual on her outings and who could blame her.

I could become a professional procrastinator if I ever got around to it.  I was going to put off going back to the grocery store for another day, but Cam called and asked me to pick up an item for her.  Nothing for it but to get off my duff and get going.  This time I made sure to buy the package that said Corned Beef in big letters.  One goof was enough.

As I was putting the groceries in the truck, there was a sudden screech of brakes.  One driver was backing out without looking and if the car coming into the lot hadn't been watching, would have been hit.  Close call.  The one car left and the second car parked.  The lady got out.  "Did you see that?  And he flipped me off!"  We stood and chatted for a bit.  As has happened before, she mentioned my bibbies and asked where I found them.  Stores don't seem to stock them anymore.  We agreed they're the most comfortable britches out there, with the added bonus of lots of pockets.  Don't ask me how, but the conversation got around to goats.  She said she'd always wanted one, but her husband did not.  She said if he ever left her, the first thing she'd do was buy a goat.  I tried not to take sides.

Stopping to drop off Camille's item was an experience.  Her three dogs immediately surrounded the truck and made parking difficult.  Then, as I was leaving after a short visit with my friend, her donkey, Cricket, came up for a back rub and wouldn't get out of the way.  Can we say stubborn like a mule?

Anyhow, I have my corned beef now.  All is well.

The Boys Are Back In Town

(Apologies to Thin Lizzie, 1976)

There are always wild turkeys here, but it's mating season and now they abound.  The boys are strutting their stuff, showing off their elegant plumage and yelling, "Look at me!  Look at me!"  It's pretty clear who makes the decisions as the girls go about their business, pointedly ignoring this display of machismo.  It makes me think of high school dances where the girls are on one side of the room checking out the guys out of the corners of their eyes, impressed but not wanting to be obvious.

Coming up the driveway after the day's excursion, it was clear the quail had already done their mating dance.  A family of ten or so ran across the drive, their little legs moving so fast they were a blur.  Ohmigosh, they are so cute.

It was an absolutely glorious day, sunny, warm, with just a light breeze.  If there was ever a day that a trip to town could be pleasant, it was yesterday.  Of course Wally World did not have any corned beef, so I went way out of my way to make a stop at Holiday.  I was on a mission.  I need to get my eyes checked.  I really do.  At the meat counter, I found the corned beef and made my choice, a really lovely hunk of meat.  I got a big one, thinking that Dave and possibly Clay would be here this weekend.  It was when I was unpacking the groceries at home that I realized I had a package of London broil, not corned beef.  Aaargh!  It must have been either in with or next to the corned beef.  (It's my story and I'm sticking to it.)  Just as well.  I called Dave in the evening to see which day he might be coming up.  He's not.  His truck is still being repaired.  Sigh.  I talked with Clay.  He's coming up on Tuesday.  My boys are not back in town - yet.  I don't even own a barbecue, so I'll vacuum seal and freeze the London broil and save it for one of the Kids.

My mouth is set for corned beef, so I'll be going back to the store today and be a little more careful about checking labels.  I'll get a big one so there'll be leftovers for sandwiches to share with Clay.

It was almost a good day.

Writer's Block

Hey, it happens.  One can sit and look at a blank page or, in this case, screen and find your mind is just that empty.  I didn't feel well yesterday, not sick, just not well, so it was a pretty dud day.  I didn't even bring in firewood to feed Stove after barn chores.  I piled on a lapful of warm cats and watched TV.  Bessie Anne bought into the program and slept nearly all day, only getting up a couple of times to go outside.  Not much inspiration to write about.

Whatever brought on the malaise seems to be gone this morning.  That's a good thing because, regardless, I have to go to town today.  For one thing, I want to buy a corned beef and the other fixings for St. Patrick's Day dinner.  It's tradition!

I'll try to do better tomorrow.

Wrong Again

Well, I was wrong about the Missy magic.  She was off elsewhere yesterday morning, probably basking in the sunshine somewhere.  That was certainly what the goats were doing.  I probably shouldn't have said anything about Stanley, either.  He made another run at me after I put down his breakfast and got bopped for his effort.  The one good thing about Stanley's attacks is that he goes for my feet and doesn't leap up to use his formidable spurs.

Stove almost got the day off.  I held off lighting him up, making do with a heavy sweatshirt and a jacket.  Go-To Guy and Mrs. Go-To came by in the afternoon to assess what would be needed for the two faucets out by the chicken pen and feed barn that have gone wonky.  GT always puts me at the end of the day so he can have the proffered beer and Mrs. GT and I can chat.  I could feel the temperature dropping and felt bad that my guests had to keep their coats on.  As they were leaving, it started raining...again, and I brought in wood to feed Stove.

Bess and I took the trash down to the big road, our outing for the day.  It was in the low 30s when we got back.  The heater in the truck felt good and Stove was doing his job when we walked in.  Salmon cakes for dinner were comfort food.  I wasn't wrong about that.

Magic

Evidently if I want to see Missy, all I have to do is mention her name in the blog.  Maybe she likes the free publicity.  Just like magic there she was yesterday, running across the pen to meet me in the barn.  It was as if I'd conjured her up.  It will be interesting to see if she appears again today.

It's a good thing that Stanley and his girls are in the wire-covered pen because the red-tailed hawks are back in the neighborhood.  They've timed it perfectly because even these last few sunny days have brought out the ground squirrels.  It seems that these hawks mate for life, so this must be a married couple who return year after year.

Other birds that have returned are the crows and the blackbirds.  The crows are noisy social birds.  They don't seem to have an "indoor" voice.  I didn't realize the blackbirds were back until yesterday a big flock flew overhead in unison, swirling and dipping like leaves in the wind, lovely to see.  One of the pleasures of living here is watching the comings and goings of the wildlife.

If today is anything like yesterday, Stove may get the day off.  I wasn't ready to leave the door open, but at least it got up into the 40s and a jacket was enough to ward off the chill in the house.  It won't officially be spring here until March 20, but there's hope on a sunny day.

Coping

The clock said I was on time, but the critters were surprised to see me "early" to hand out breakfast yesterday.  I guess that's better than being "late" when we change back in the fall.  Ah well, what cannot be changed must be endured.

It was another sunny, cold! day.  Stove did yeoman's work keeping the house warm while I watched NASCAR.  It was a disappointing finish for both Johnson and Bowyer, and they'd been doing so well.  Then, out of nowhere, in the late afternoon it started raining again, not hard enough to hear, but I saw it when I went out to get another helping for Stove.  That certainly wasn't on any forecast.  Crazy weather.

I haven't seen Missy for a couple of days, but she's emptied her bowl so I know she's around.  The hens have been laying eggs on a regular basis and Stanley has been behaving himself.  I can tell he's thinking about making a rush at me, but then changes his mind, and that's a good thing.  Sheila was particularly needy yesterday, wanting her head rubbed and walking so close by my side on the way up to the gate that it was hard to make progress.  Tessie remains aloof.  Ralph is sitting on my lap, Bess is snoring on the bed behind me, and Celeste is singing to her piglet in the hall.

In other words, all's right in my world.

About Time

It's a good thing I'm an early riser because if I weren't, I'd be late this morning.  According to the "new" time, it's already 5:30.  Lord love a duck, I wish "they," whoever they are, would just pick a time and stick with it, and I don't care which one.  I can count on being crabby twice a year, and this year it came a month early.  Aaargh!

Dave isn't going to make it up this weekend after all.  Poor guy.  The ignition on his truck went out.  You can't go anywhere if you can't start the engine.  I won't say I'm not disappointed, but just having had Truck in the shop, I sure do sympathize.

Stove gobbled up a fair bit of firewood yesterday.  It didn't rain, but it was flippin' cold all day.  I'm not sure it ever got out of the 30s.  You bet I appreciate Beau and the kids' act of kindness.  With no company coming, keeping Stove fed was the big project for the day, and I just loaded him up for breakfast.

Well, it's 6 a.m. and there's no sign of daylight.  How does this daylight saving thing work anyhow?  I've changed all the clocks so I can at least pretend to be in step with the rest of California (but I don't have to like it).

Visiting Day

It's been a long while since the turkeys have visited, but yesterday there they were again on the deck railing.  This is the first of five that came to look at the cat.  "Hey, lady!  What'cha doing?  Anything good on TV today?"  They crack me up.

Beau called later in the morning to ask if it would be okay for him to bring a bunch of children, a group of locals he calls the Mountain Kids, to bring wood to my porch in the afternoon.  Okay?  Oh yeah!  Beau is a stay-at-home dad and he's formed a sort of play group with other children and thought it would be a good way to let the kids spend some energy outside (it wasn't raining) and learn a lesson in helping others.  About ten young ones hiked from Beau's house to mine and, like little birds, they were chirping and laughing as they set to work.  The rack was getting pretty low and it was on my To-Do list, so I really appreciated their efforts.  Best of all were the hugs I got from every single kid, and some came back for seconds.  Just like a flock of birds they were here and then they were gone, taking my thanks with them.

I came in and fed Stove a big helping to warm up the house.  I'd put him on a restricted diet to conserve firewood and we were both getting cold, not knowing we'd have such welcome visitors.  It was a good day.

Shame

After blowing off steam and ranting about the weather yesterday, I went into the living room and watched the morning newscast, and I was shamed for being such a wimp.  Floods in Sonoma, avalanches in Colorado, tornadoes in Georgia...and I'm here whining about a little rain?  Woman, get over yourself!

Most of yesterday was spent keeping Stove and Celeste happy.  No, that wasn't sunshine coming through the door...just a bright(er) spot on a dark day.  My gosh, Celeste is such a lump-lump.  She looks like a giant slug!  (Don't tell her I said that.)  Ralph is a skinny-minny next to her.

Those are gloves on the half-wall behind Stove.  Thick fleece gloves for warmth, leather gloves for picking up wood, knit gloves for when it's not quite so cold, and one welder's glove for emptying Stove's ember-filled ash tray.  In summer, that shelf is empty.

I saw the first California jay yesterday, a sign the seasons may be changing.  The crested Steller's bluejays haven't arrived yet, nor the robin redbreasts.  More clumps of bright yellow daffodils have sprung up on the hillsides and the almond tree hasn't given up hope.  When the baby blue eyes pop up, I'll know for sure that spring has come.

I am so looking forward to seeing Dave this weekend, although I'm sorry for the reason.  I hope he'll have an easy answer to that ruined piece of flashing.  When all is said and done, all's right in my world.

Gloom And Doom

I need some sunshine!!  I need to sit outside on the deck with Bess and listen to the birds and watch white fluffy clouds go by.  I need to get down to the barn without coming back soaked.  I need sunshine, people, I need it bad!  California born and bred, I don't understand how people cope in places like Alaska where there are months of darkness or Nordic countries where it is so cold much of the time.  I couldn't cope in Seattle with 155 days of rain on average.  Aarrgh!  Call it an atmospheric river or what you will, I need to see a weather report without days of rain, rain, and more rain predicted.  It's just plain depressing.  (Does it show?)

Poor old Bessie Anne made one trip out in the morning yesterday and came back wet to the skin.  I gave her a brisk toweling and tried to get her warm.  Any other forays were very brief and I didn't blame her.  We spent our day trying to keep Stove happy.  Fortunately, he wasn't as cranky as me.  It was hard to remember the bright spots of the day before.

I know full well that this, too, shall pass, but dang it, I need some sunshine!  It's raining...again.  Sigh.  (Don't even get me started on the time change coming up this weekend.)

Bright Spots

I didn't hit rain until Shingle Springs on my way down to Cameron Park.  Oh well, we all knew it was coming.  The news from the doctor was very, very good.  No sign of a tumor anywhere, so all I'm left to deal with is the polycythemia to treat with medication...and the occasional visit to Vampire Hall.  A draining yesterday and another in three weeks.  It could be worse and I'm not complaining.

By the time I was let loose from the Center, it was raining hard.  I do not understand some people's feeling of invincibility and/or immortality.  I was driving at freeway speed and was getting passed by, let's just say, idiots who had to be going seventy-five or eighty mph on the wet road.  My only thought was the hope that they wouldn't take out innocent others.

I had a couple of stops to make in P'ville, trying to make the trip count.  On the way back, I came upon this hillside of daffodils and had to stop.  Talk about a bright spot on a dark day!  My almond tree is trying valiantly to put out blossoms and I spied a clump of my own daffodils near the chicken pen, but the wind and rain have beat them down.  The number of uprooted or broken trees on the roads to town was alarming.  Road crews must be working overtime. 

Back at home, Bess and I caught a break and hurried to get the trash down to the big road.  I also got a call from a dear cousin...always a bright spot.

Nature got down to business about dark last evening and she's still at it.  Regardless, it was a good day.

Is It A Bird?

Cue the theme song.  "Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  It's not Superman.  It's the elusive sun!"  This rare photo was taken on the way back up to the house and was the only sighting all day.  No, that's a fib; Sol did put in another brief appearance just before dropping over the horizon in the evening.

Stove had a day of rest.  While overcast, it didn't rain and it was warm enough I didn't need to burn more wood.  The goats lay out in the pen and the bedraggled chickens had a chance to dry out their feathers.  I hope they all enjoyed themselves because more rain is due today and the rest of the week.  Of course it is because I have to go to Cameron Park this morning.

I had a lovely chat with my friend Tinka, and a call later from my niece.  How grand it is to have family and friends in your life to laugh with.  They brighten the darkest days.

Bess Anne is snoring gently on the bed behind me while Celeste sings to her piglet in the hall.  Ralph is off doing Ralph things, but I know that soon I will feel his light-as-air touch on my shoulder, his way of telling me he wants to come over for a cuddle on my lap.  He's begun taking "making muffins" very seriously.  He started by kneading my arm gently, and has moved on to vigorous treading that, if put to music, would make Beethoven proud.

It was a dry, i.e. good, day.

Something Different

When Patrick hadn't appeared by mid morning and there was a break in the rain, I called the feed store to get an ETA.  It seems Patrick had not come in to work.  Oh good grief.  I was completely out of birdseed, was low on chicken feed, and had maybe enough alfalfa for one more day.  I explained my dilemma to Chris and asked if there wasn't somebody else who could deliver my supplies as Patrick had promised he'd come on Sunday.  "I'll call you back."  About an hour later, "Okay, here's the deal.  If you can/will drive down here, they (two members of a large family group that now owns Mt. Aukum store) can load the alfalfa in your truck, the rest of the stuff in theirs, and they'll follow you home because they don't know this area at all."  Well, that was different.  I left immediately and, of course, ran into rain on the way.  Raj and Carlo loaded Truck and we caravanned home.  There was no way I could have handled the heavy bales of alfalfa or even the 50-pound bags of feed, so I truly appreciated their help unloading everything, and they did it with a smile in the rain.  Good guys.

Everything was done by the time NASCAR started.  Bowyer and Johnson were doing well at the time I fell asleep (nothing new there) and I missed the end of the race.  Rats!

I tried something different the last time I made fried eggplant.  I had always followed my mother's routine with a dredge of seasoned flour, egg dip, and more flour, but after watching a number of cooking shows I added just a bit of corn starch to the flour.  What a difference!  The crust was so much crispier and had a tender crunch.  I tried the same thing with a piece of chicken last night and had the same result.  Sorry, Mother, I may never go back to the old way.

The livestock are well supplied with food, there was a real sunset last evening, Stove has been working well.  It was a good day.

Rainy Day

I always try to put a little something by, as Mother advised, for a rainy day.  Well, it's been raining cats and dogs lately, and I'm not just talking about water from the sky.  First the tree fell on the barn ($$$).  Then when I was filling the chickens' waterer from the spigot by their pen, I saw brown water come out.  Aarrgh!  It did clear in a minute or two so I didn't have to go back to the house for clean water.  I put in a heads-up call to Go-To Guy, telling him it wasn't an emergency and that I'd call him again when we got some good weather.  He said it could wait as long as the water in the house was clear.  It is.  While I was going back and forth to the barn for Tree Guy, I saw that the tap by the door was dripping, dripping pretty fast.  I couldn't turn the handle one way or the other, and I couldn't deal with that just then.  I put that on the list for Go-To ($$$).  I've been waiting for a week for a delivery of feed for all the critters (more $$$), and it's getting to the critical stage, especially for the goats.  Patrick has been dealing with family issues and then, of course, there's the rain.  I've got my fingers crossed for today.

So now we come to the coup de gras (or at least I hope it is).  This juniper bush is at the far end from the path off the porch and I haven't been going that way lately.  Yesterday I was getting another helping of wood for Stove and caught a glimpse of something white in the bush.  I wasn't too worried because there is a white bench by the steps to the deck and thought it had blown over the night of the fiercest winds.  No big deal.  Well, it is a big deal.  It's a piece of fascia from the siding Larry put up years ago.

Of course it had to come from the highest peak of the gable.  Laughing, I sent pictures to Larry in Hawaii and asked if he was going to be in the neighborhood anytime soon.  I don't even know who does these kinds of repairs.  Larry said to call Dave, who has a wide acquaintance with tradesmen and might know someone.  Goodhearted Dave will come up next weekend to take a look.

I'm about ready for these rainy days to stop.  I mean it.

Improv

There is a drawback to waking early in the morning...along about 11, a nap is mandatory.  Ordinarily that's not a problem, but yesterday I really needed to go to the store.  Crab Rangoon requires crab meat and I had none.  Knowing Arden was due soon, there was no time.  Okay, Plan B.  I didn't have one of those, either.  Hmmm.  A quick survey of cupboards and fridge turned up a package of frozen baby shrimp.  There was nothing for it but to improvise.  The shrimp thawed while I mixed the sauce and then stirred in the chopped shrimp and stuck the casserole in the warming oven.  Instead of won ton wrappers, I substituted tortillas cut into chips and lightly fried after Arden arrived.  It might not have been Crab Rangoon, but we agreed it was mighty good.

I had to excuse myself for a few minutes to drive down and put cookies for Camille in my mailbox (special delivery?).  She'd been away from home for the day and she has a PO box, so we'd made prior arrangements.  Sometimes living in the country makes for creative improvisations.

After taking a couple of days off to rest, Nature is up to her old tricks this morning.  I don't know if her heart isn't in it or if she's relenting a little.  Yes, it's raining, but not pouring, and, yes, it's windy, but not howling or beating on the house.  What can I say?  It's winter.

P.S.:  I dusted.

TWTWTW

Most won't remember "That Was The Week That Was," a political satire TV show imported from Britain in 1964 and featuring David Frost.  It came to mind yesterday, but more in the context of  "This Was The Week That Was," messed up from the git-go.  As I put load after load of laundry into the washer, I kept hearing an old Girl Scout camp song, "Today is Monday.  Today is Monday.  Monday wash day..." but it was decidedly not Monday.  Monday seemed an eon ago, this week has been so totally screwed up.  It's not like I ever adhere to a schedule, but it's nice to think there are people who do regulate their lives.  Anyhow, there are stacks of clean and folded clothes now.

I had to move Missy's bed and bowl out of her room and into the hallway of the barn.  More of one of the plexiglass roof panels had broken, either from the wind or the tree, and her stall was wet through and through.  It's not a problem since the girls are now sharing the big room.

After throwing such a hissy fit with all the rain and wind, all worn-out Nature could come up with yesterday was a constant drizzle.  Drip, drip, drip.  Hey, I'm not complaining.  Stove ate up almost a whole wagon full of firewood, working overtime to keep damp rot from taking over and mushrooms from sprouting in the corners.  (Thanks again, Beau.)

Arden is coming over this afternoon.  With any luck, I'll get up to the store to pick up some extra ingredients for a recipe I saw last week for a warm crab Rangoon dip.  I've made the traditional Chinese fried crab Rangoon appetizers for years, but not often because they're a lot of work.  Some bright person had the idea to simplify the whole thing by making a dip with crispy won ton skins as chips.  I'm not ashamed to steal it.

My sister used to say that there was an old Chinese curse that said, "May you live in interesting times."  This has certainly been an interesting week.