Gravel

Certainly not diamonds, yesterday wasn't even a rock...maybe just gravel.  Nothing awful, nothing great, just...well, boring.  There have been times in my life when I would have begged for boring.  So many times when I've cried, "Just let me off this merry-go-round for fifteen minutes!  I promise I'll get back on if I can just get a break!"  Given those memories, boring ain't s'bad.  It certainly isn't because I want to go anywhere.  I think it's the idea that, because of the virus, I can't go anywhere.  I miss my kids like the dickens.  I miss the get-togethers with the Ladies of Fair Play.  I miss....  Ah well.  I have no idea of what the new normal will be when we get back to "normal," but I'd like to find out pretty soon.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Some Days

"Some Days Are Diamonds, Some Days Are Stone" (John Denver, 1986).

And some days are just plain blah, yesterday for an example.  Not as hot as it has been, but too hot to want to do much.  No cooking shows, phooey.  NASCAR was a drag (pun intended), but had a good finish.  With his recent pedicure, Michael has once again become a ghost dog, silently moving through the rooms.  He has learned the benefit of letting me use the spray bottle on his head and neck.  With his spiky wet hair, he looks like a punk rocker.  (I don't want to know what I look like.)

With Craig's advice, I've decided to return the new, unopened TV, even though I'm sure that once I do, the old one will conk out and I'll go through the ordeal again.  Helper Dude had a change of plans and won't be here until tomorrow.  I'm hoping he can get that unwieldy box into the truck for me.

I'm not expecting diamonds today, but maybe something better than a rock.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Michael's Spa Day

'Spa Day' might be an exaggeration.  I took Michael in to the vet's office and he got his nails trimmed.  It was oh-so-necessary.  He has long feathers covering his toes and it's easy to ignore his nails; they're never seen.  I did warn the nice lady that Michael has a very low tolerance for pain and would scream if hurt in any way.  When done, she said he had given his own warning with a quiet rumble.  The procedure went off without a hitch and I'm sure walking is more pleasurable for him now.

I knew that Dr. Ric had retired.  He was a marvelous veterinarian, knowledgeable, capable, and kind.  He'd been our vet through Dogie and Bessie Anne, and had done reconstructive surgery on Frank, the cat with torn ligaments.  I was saddened to learn that Dr. Ric had recently died.

Why they bothered to make an appointment, I don't know.  It was not an obviously busy day, and I don't know what was going on behind the scenes, but our wait time was over an hour.  That did, however, give me an opportunity to meet the Corgi who was within days of delivering six puppies.  If you know how short a Corgi's legs are, you can imagine how close to the ground her belly was dragging.  (I love Corgis.)  I was also introduced to a mini-mini Chihuahua and was told she might weigh four pounds on a good day.  Yikes, I've got dust bunnies bigger than that!  (I'm exaggerating again.)

Cameron is coming today to cut down some broken limbs on an oak tree over the woodpile.  They must have broken during the last hard winds and I hadn't noticed because that area isn't on our normal walkway.  Given the fire danger, I sure don't want to give any extra fuel so close to the house.

Michael knows, "Want to go for a ride" and also "Let's go home."  Yesterday he was happy to hear the latter.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Nice To Know

It's nice to know I'm still trainable.  I don't think the 'house kids' have even had to work very hard at it.  Once they show me what they want, I get the idea pretty fast and seldom need a refresher course.  Everybody knows I work at the computer in the morning.  That doesn't mean they don't want attention.  Celeste comes within a foot or two from my chair and gives a small meow.  That's my cue to drop a hand so she can come up and give herself a pet.  Ralph pats me on leg or shoulder, indicating I should turn around and either pet him or make my lap accessible as he wishes.  Michael snoozes until we all go into the living room to begin the day.  He's not a morning dog.

Michael is the epitome of self-restraint, eating just a few bites of kibble at a time.  He does, however, want dessert.  After munching a bit in the kitchen, he will come and sit right in front of me, looking straight into my eyes.  That's the signal for me to reach into my pocket and pull out three tiny milk-bone treats, always three.  Doesn't everyone carry a pocketful for just such occasions?  He gently takes them one at a time.  I flash the all-gone sign, and he picks a place to nap.  When we come back from a walk, he waits just inside the door, having trained me to bring a "real" treat, usually a piece of chicken jerky.  The look I get should I be slow or forgetful is enough to get me back on the straight and narrow.

The cats are still working on "Make a lap!"  They will, one at a time or together, come up to my chair and rub against my legs, politely waiting to be acknowledged.  If I'm distracted by TV or book and fail to notice, they give a simple reminder by leaping up without invitation.  That scares me enough that I try harder the next time.

I'm a work in progress.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Shame On Me

I've been watching a lot of news lately, probably more than I should...local, state, country, worldwide, and political.  Most of it recently has been so depressing that I've been brought to tears.  The pandemic illness and death, those poor people in the south who are facing one of the worst hurricanes ever, senseless killings nearly every day by good guys and bad guys, protests that turn into riots, those who are out of work through no fault of their own and standing in line for a food handout and sometimes homeless, children who, in the interest of safety, are missing out on a year of school, cutthroat, power-hungry political figures who have forgotten whom they serve.  The list of tragedies goes on and on...and on.

I am shamed.  I whine about the heat here, even though other parts of the country are baking.  I snivel about my recent electronic problems, forgetting that I have a computer and a television (two, if you count the new spare).  I have food in the fridge and freezer that I may or may not choose to cook.  There may not be much money left at the end of the month, but I can pay my bills.  I don't have the strength to do everything, but I'm still kicking.  Yes, the smoke is a problem, but we've been spared the fires.  I live in the United States of America and have the right to vote, which you can believe I will exercise.  I cannot get hugs these days, but I have kitty rub-ups and doggy kisses.

Shame on me for forgetting what a lucky woman I am.

Stay safe.  Be well.

If You Write It...

It was much like "The Field Of Dreams" (1989, Kevin Costner, Amy Madigan, James Earl Jones).  Having just written about the lack of blue skies, yesterday, while not exactly blue, the sky was a much lighter tan with a hint, a tinge, of what might be behind the smoke.  And it was a few degrees cooler.  In other words, almost pleasant.  It gives one hope.

There wasn't a lot of traffic going and coming yesterday.  Don't laugh, you city dwellers, up here fifteen cars on the twenty-five-mile road to town constitutes rush-hour traffic.  I had more stops to make than usual, but one was Michael's favorite pit stop.  Although he had taken advantage of everywhere else, that was the one where he put forth his best efforts.  I had to laugh, just before heading home the best he could manage was a few drops.  The first thing I did when we got back to the house was fill his water bowl so he could replenish his empty tank.

Poor Michael.  I've mentioned that we both have drippy noses.  He has always had wheezes and sneezes, but it's even worse now.  He's asleep on the bed behind me and his breathing sounds like air escaping from a balloon.  It's a wonder he doesn't wake himself up with the snoring.

Blue skies, smiling on me.  Hey, it's worth a try.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Blue Skies

"Blue skies smiling at me.  Nothing but blue skies do I see,"  (Song by Irving Berlin, 1926.)

I can't remember the last time I saw a blue sky.  Nothing but brown icky skies overhead for the longest time.  Michael's and my eyes and nose run and it's hard to take a deep breath.  Our walks are shorter and our naps are longer these days.

We'll go gas up the truck before making an obligatory trip to town today.  Given the circumstances, it's a good idea to keep a full tank, just in case.  No different than bringing the cat carriers to the porch.

I haven't been brave enough to try cooking the kale.  The stuff doesn't seem to wilt so I'm not too worried.  To tell the truth, I haven't felt like cooking much of anything and have been relying on heat-and-eat victuals.  (And there's always ice cream.)

I can't say I'm looking forward to going to town, but the A/C will be a nice reward.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Nose Knows

Michael is a dog of discerning tastes.  I have to laugh at myself.  Not long after Michael came here to live, Arden came over (this was back in the dark ages when we could still have company) and she was going to give him a bite of her snack.  "Please don't do that, Arden.  I'd rather prefer that he not get used to mooching while I'm eating."  Ah well, that was then, this is now.  Now whenever I come into the living room with a plate or bowl, Michael comes over, "What are we having today?"  Just as he eats his kibble one piece at a time, he will sniff the offering first.  "Hmm, will I like that?"  Most of the time he does, sometimes he doesn't.  I really enjoy raw red bell peppers.  Michael always says no thanks.  The nose knows.

Sometimes I laugh at myself, sometimes I kick myself, as I did yesterday.  It took some doing to drag the new TV out of the truck and up to the porch (that was as far as I could go).  I explained to the service tech when he arrived the recent events and why I needed him to install the new set and remove the unnecessary speaker bar.  After the oh-so-patient tech with whom I'd spent one-and-a-half hours testing this, that, and the other thing had told me the infrared sensor was defunct on the TV so it would not respond to the remote, it seemed my only option.  Yeah, well.  Yesterday's gentleman removed the bar, ran a couple of tests, and said there was nothing wrong with the TV.  Numbnuts had put the bar so that it blocked the sensor.  Aarrgh and double-aarrgh!  Now I have a brand new television stored in the Black Hole of Calcutta, a perfectly operating TV in the living room, and a speaker bar that needs to be sent back after I find a UPS store that will make a box for it.  Numbnuts took the original box away.  Live and learn.  What I really need is a course in electronics.

I rarely buy ice cream, but did indulge the last time I went to the store.  Michael really likes vanilla ice cream.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Act II (Or Maybe III)

I seem to be caught in some electronic version of "The NeverEnding Story" (Peter Falk, 1980s).  Let's see, it started with the computer monitor and then new speakers, and moved on to the sound blip on the living room TV, then to the technician who came on Thursday and hustled me into buying an external speaker that would "solve all my problems."  Only it didn't.  Yes, I could hear the TV, only now it won't turn off.  Aarrgh!  I spent an hour and a half on the phone yesterday with technical support, who finally decided the problem was not with the satellite system, but the television itself.  Trust me, I am not going to ask what next.  Okay, Michael and I went to town in the afternoon and bought a new TV.  Technical support is sending another technician (boy, I hope it's not the same one!) to remove the external speaker today.  With any luck on my part and common sense on his, he'll install the new TV and save himself a trip back to hook up the satellite.  I am, shall we say, electronically challenged.  Ah well, Michael and I enjoyed the trip with A/C.

Camille has offered to trim Michael's nails, but we keep running into glitches trying to connect.  Until we do, he clicks around in the kitchen.  At least I know when my silent 'ghost dog' is on the move.

Smoke and heat continue.  Sigh.

Stay safe.  Be well.  And wish me luck.

Plan Ahead

The thought had been rattling around in my head, but I had taken no action.  I didn't need the all-pervasive smoke to tell me we are in fire season and an evacuation plan would be in order.  Thinking was as far as I'd gotten, but Florence and Dan were ahead of me.  They came over yesterday morning and I welcomed their company (on the porch, of course).  They, unbeknownst to me, were on a mission.  Knowing that the feed barn and shed have been inaccessible to me because the doors are stuck, they came with tools to retrieve the cat carriers I had stored, planning ahead in case of need.  How kind to think of us here 'alone,' as it were.  All three carriers are now on the porch.  Now I'm hoping they will not be needed, but am ready, just in case we need to flee.  We did have time to visit, so it was win-win all around for me.

We are getting frequent blips in the power.  It seems I'm having to reset the digital clocks throughout the house on a daily basis.  Hey, I'm not complaining, it's certainly better than a days-long spell without electricity and water.  Blip away!

Stay safe.  Be well.

Up And Moving

Another day of heat and smoke, but I didn't have much choice...there were things (like dusting) that had to be done.  A technician was coming regarding a television/satellite problem and I do have a modicum of pride.  I don't think anyone has been inside the house since, oh, maybe January.  Tech Guy came and went, and I now have external speakers for the system.

Having finally accomplished something, I was encouraged to take another step and went to the grocery store.  I found most everything I needed, but was amazed to find the mayonnaise shelves were empty.  Who would hoard mayonnaise, and why?  At checkout, I asked specifically that the bags not be filled too heavy.  Arnold Schwarzenegger, I'm not.  I was helped to the truck by a smiling young lady who insisted on calling me 'honey.'  I'm not adverse to terms of endearment, but there's something about being called 'honey' by a very young stranger that just makes a person feel old.  Oh well, I appreciated her help.  At home, knowing I'd bought dog food and would have difficulty carrying it to the house, I enlisted the help of my little red wagon.  That was a good thing because the grocery bags were so overloaded that I couldn't even lift them out of the truck.  That gal must have had unseen muscles, and darn that checker anyhow.  With a little ingenuity and some extra bags, the deed got done before the ice cream (I indulged a craving) melted.

I will not complain about the smoke, thick again today.  There are over 370 fires burning in California, most caused by nearly 11,000 lightning strikes in a 72-hour period.  No wonder the firefighters are stretched thin.

We had a thankfully brief power outage last night.  Just a good reminder to keep the cellphone, etc., charged.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Will Is Weak

 The computer and I are at odds this morning and I fear it's winning.  Why the underline, I don't know, but Computer wants it and that's that.

The photo (underline went away!) was taken yesterday at 8 a.m.  The smoke was that thick.  My daughter sent photos of the ash covering her yard in the valley at about the same time.  The fires are mostly burning clear over by the coast and can only be described as horrific.  Thousands have been evacuated.  Those poor people.  California hasn't fully recovered from the Camp fire in Paradise two years ago.  Fire crews have been decimated by the virus and are stretched thin.  Bless 'em all.

They say where there's a will, there's a way, but the will has to be stronger than mine yesterday to get something, anything, done.  Just breathing became the main objective.  From dawn's early light, it looks like today is going to be more of the same.

The highlight of the day was getting a phone call from my son in Hawaii.  He could be a professional spirit-lifter.  We were both glad that Hurricane Douglas had veered away from Oahu at the last moment.  Nature appears to be giving us payback for some reason.  I wish she'd relent and send us some rain...just a little.  We don't need the floods that are occurring in other States.  She can be one mean mother.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Cough, Cough, ZZZZ

Oh great.  Temps in the 100s aren't enough, Nature had to throw in the ferschluggen humidity.  To put the cherry on top, smoke from the valley fires is so thick up here this morning it looks like fog hiding the hills across the way.  I'm not complaining as there are no local fires, but I can taste as well as smell the smoke.  Nothing, but nothing got done yesterday.  Sleep is my refuge and I go there often.  I didn't even get the trash down to the big road, for Pete's sake!  Oh well.  Don't expect much from me until there is some kind of change.  I'll be sleeping.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Sound Of Music

No reference to "The Sound Of Music" film (1965, Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, and that passel of kids).

There I was, stuffed into that corner, moving the inoperative speakers around while sorting wires, when I noticed a knob on the side of one speaker.  Hmmm.  It was marked 'volume,' but didn't seem to want to turn.  I put it aside.  It did, however, intrigue me, and I went back to it.  I checked the "instructions," which were rudimentary drawings at best.  Nope, nothing about volume control.  Computer Guy hadn't said anything about such a control.  Well, heck, the thing wasn't working anyhow, so what could I hurt, and I turned the knob with more force.  Bink!  A little light came on and the speakers were operative!   Now I have the sound of music and voices and feel I'm once again in touch with the world!  That was the big 'ta da' for the day.

Okay, it was the only 'ta da.'  In addition to the oppressive heat, even without a cloud cover there was a muggy wet feel to the air.  This is an area of dry heat and we're not used to humidity.  Neither the animals nor I moved around much, mainly sleeping through the day.  Michael got his wet-down, and that was about it.  One can hope for better today.

Stay safe.  Be well.

A Tangled Web

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!"  (Sir Walter Scott, 1808.)

Well, only the first part pertains here.  Nobody is deceiving anybody, but, man, I have a tangled web of wires!  Computer wires, monitor wires, wires to the electrical source and to the wall, probably wires to long-gone equipment, and now speaker wires, and, guess what...I still don't have audio!  "It's so simple," he said.  "Just one plug in the electrical and one plug in the computer," he said.  That's where the deception comes in because it didn't work.  Practicing my best Scarlett O'Hara yesterday, I decided to think about that "tomorrow."

After Clay's dire weather report at 5:30, I got another one from Deb at 10, saying much the same thing, and she added, "Get everything done that you need to and get everything charged!  It's bad!"  Forewarned, I prepared for the worst and waited.  And waited.  Sunshine (i.e., heat!) and a few strong gusts of wind were all we got.  Not that I was disappointed, but a little of that rain would have been nice.

Michael seemed so grateful for the spray bottle that I did hose him down in the afternoon.  After a first startled look, he really got into it as I got all the way to the skin.  If I hadn't been clothed, I would have joined him.  I soaked him down good and he gave one shake and decided to drip dry.  That's probably going to become a regular part of our day during this heat.

If you need me today, I'll be cramped in the very small space in the corner of the bedroom, trying to sort wires.

Stay safe.  Be well.

What A Start!

Sitting here minding my own business, and suddenly out of nowhere a huge wind blew in.  No warning, just blam! and the trees were hanging on for dear life.  About that time (I hadn't even had my coffee) I got a text from Clay, saying there were nonstop lightning strikes down in the valley and it was hot!  Oh crum.  Dry lightning, wind and heat is the recipe for disaster in the hills.  So far, so good, and the wind has died down.  Maybe we'll dodge that bullet, but what a way to start the day.  Thinking about evacuation plans was not on my to-do list.

Trust me, not much got done yesterday, and probably won't today or the rest of the week.  Just surviving in this heat is enough of an accomplishment.  I've started sharing the spray bottle with Michael (the cats aren't having any of that!) and today I'm going to take him out on the deck for a shower with the hose.  The weatherman keeps saying to turn on the A/C.  Yeah, sure, buddy.  I'll do that very thing and thanks for the advice.  He gets so excited when we break records, records I'd just as soon not get broken, and I'd like to smack him upside the head.

It's light enough to see now, so I'm going to try to hook up the speakers for the computer.  There should be one success to start the day.  Wish me luck.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Star Of The Show

I needed to go to town.  Could it wait another day?  No.  At 103 degrees up here and knowing what the pavement would be, should I leave Michael home?  No.  Will I make the three stops as usual?  No.  After dawdling and dragging my feet as long as possible, "Come on, Michael, load up."

A/C blowing full blast, we took off.  The drive in wasn't too bad, and the A/C was a relief.  There was one extra stop at the electronics store.  Yes, I'd bought the new monitor and figured out all the wiring, but there was no audio.  Turns out the new monitors are not equipped with speakers, as the old one was.  I needed to buy speakers.  More wires, more equipment to take up what little space I have on what is not a desk but a bedroom vanity with drawers.  There were four or five kids in the store, evidently children of the owner.  One of the boys held the door and ushered me in.  Omigosh, Michael was the flower and the kids were bees, the way they clustered about him while I tended to business.  It was the same story at Walmart.  Men, women, and children all made comments about how handsome, how well behaved, and on and on.  Michael, as always, takes it like royalty.  There's no question about who is the star of the show.  One of the clerks (that's old-school, they're 'associates' now) stopped to talk to him.  As the fellow bent over, the cup of ice water he had in his hand tipped and it poured over the dog.  The gentleman apologized profusely, and Michael said, "Thank you!"  I decided that if Walmart didn't have it, I didn't need it, and forewent the other stops in town.

I darned near blistered my hand trying to open Truck's door while Michael danced on the asphalt.  We couldn't wait to get in and get the A/C going again.

We hadn't been home an hour when the power went out.  "NOooo!"  Michael and I were both panting.  No fan, no water, nothing to distract from the heat.  We were both glad it was out only about three hours and not days as it has been in the past.

Stay safe (and cool).  Be well.

Intruder!

Well, that was different.  Going out into the living room yesterday morning after my stint at the computer, I thought I heard faint sounds coming from the stove pipe.  Since that couldn't be, I ignored it.  There it was again.  Hmmm.  Maybe some bird or other was pecking at the metal chimney cap on the roof.  No, the sounds got louder and were definitely coming from the pipe itself and getting lower.  Oh good grief!  Now what, and what to do about it?  I hoped that whatever was in there would figure out that the way in was also the way out.  Nope.  The banging continued.  I surely didn't want the creature to die in there.  As hard as it is to believe in the midst of a heat wave, winter will come again and Stove will start doing his job and I didn't want a barbecue.  Even if ladders were not verboten to me, there wasn't much point to getting on the roof.  What would I do?  Call down and say, "Come out, come out, whatever you are"?  Not exactly inspired, but hoping, I opened the vent from Stove to the pipe, and heard the whatever drop into the cold firebox.  Okay, now what?  I cautiously opened the small side door, still not sure what I might find.  Nothing.  No movement whatsoever in the ashes from last winter.  I opened the larger front door and whoosh! out flew a tiny, terrified grey bird.  Looking for a way out, it banged into the big window.  Ralph and Celeste were laser focused.  "Oh, Mom, thank you!"  They were sure Christmas had come early.  Little Bird managed to evade the hunters and flew about the room  Oh great, now what again?  It left the living room and I went through the house looking for it.  Nothing.  Oh crum.  Was it injured?  Would it die of fright?  I sat down to ponder the problem.  That's when Little Bird came back and made a second attempt to get out through the picture window.  Ralph and Celeste were on it in a heartbeat, and kept it occupied long enough to let me get in there and grab it.  It was no bigger than the palm of my hand.  I let it free out the front door, sounding much like Mork (Mork And Mindy, 1978, Robin Williams and Pam Dawber), "Fly and be free!"  Boy, did I get dirty looks from two very disappointed cats.  It seems the spark screen had come off the chimney.  I put in a call to HD, but he hasn't called back yet.

We are due for a stretch of eight straight days of 100-plus degree weather.  Aarrgh.  Clay texted this morning and said he was sweating at 5:30 a.m.  Me too.  Tired of sucking on ice cubes yesterday and getting a little hungry, I thought of those bags of sliced peaches in the freezer.  I highly recommend a peach-cicle on a hot day.

Due to another foofah with medications, I have to go to town again today.  I know Michael will appreciate the A/C in the truck and stores, but I'm worried about his poor feet on the hot asphalt.  I wish I had a stroller.  Maybe if we double-time it, he'll be okay.  Maybe I'll buy him an ice cream cone.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Stuff Of Dreams

The California Lottery began in 1984 and was an immediate success.  People would stand in line with their favorite numbers or be willing to take a chance on the draw, hoping for the big win.  Steve and I were occasional players, as were our friends.  Our entertainment came from sitting around campfires or on the deck, dreaming aloud about what we'd do if we won.

There was, of course, talk of travel, of the far-off places we would go.  Australia and New Zealand were high on my list.  I'd never forgotten the movie "The Sundowners" (1960, Robert Mitchum, Deborah Kerr, Peter Ustinov).  Steve wanted to return to a lot of the places he'd been in his ten years in the Navy.  We would set up trust funds for our children; we'd be so rich we could afford to be generous.  Steve's Christmas lists always ran to pages, and he said he'd go shopping and fulfill his heart's desire (scary thought).  Up here, Steve's ambition was to add a third story onto the house...one big room for his endless projects and my crafts, with windows all around for an even better view of the hills and trees.  Totally impractical, but it was a dream, after all.  I wanted a garage.  I still do.

What would I do now?  For starters, I'd tear down all the broken wood and barbed wire fencing on the property and replace them with those lovely white (PVC?) fences I drive past and envy.  I'd replace the decrepit goat barn, falling to pieces after the tree fell on it.  I would hire a once-a-week housekeeper who would keep the house dust free (hey, it's my dream).  Somehow, and I don't know how, there would be a lawn in the front yard with a sprinkler system to keep it green.  I would install an air conditioner!!  (That should have been first on the list.)  Ah, well.  Dream on.

I guess I should buy a ticket.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Just Peachy

Deja vu with a twist.  There were strawberry fields and a stand on Steve's road to work, and one summer he stopped and picked up a couple of baskets on the way home, suggesting I make a strawberry shortcake.  I did, and it was pretty darned good, so good that he stopped again and bought a half-flat.  Okay, more shortcake.  Steve did nothing by halves, so the next time it was a whole flat.  By the time we'd gone through that, I had developed a strawberry rash and had to call a halt.

George had messaged me before his last visit, asking if I'd like more peaches.  Well, of course!  These juicy orbs fresh from the orchard are so much better than any that could be bought in the store, how could I refuse?  Peach season doesn't last forever, after all.  This being the third flat, while I don't have a peach rash, I've taken to cutting up the fruit to freeze because it's been too darned hot to bake pies and I wouldn't want to waste a morsel because there are just so many one can eat before the fruit goes soft.  I am imagining hot peach pie on a cold winter's night.  Yum!

Never one to watch daytime soap operas, I've become a political news junkie.  Between the pandemic and politics, I've never lived through times like these, and yesterday was a good example.  I'm glad I'm out of it.

WiFi is quite wonderful, until it isn't.  There was a glitch in the system yesterday, sending the computer into a tizzy and cutting off service to my cellphone.  I made the call (I keep a landline) and was connected to a trainee.  The one thing she'd absolutely learned was the word "ma'am," which she used to distraction.  I don't think she knew I could hear her mentor coaching her.  After trying this, that, and the other thing, there was a pause.  "Oh, ma'am, I just got an email saying they are upgrading the system."  It was all for naught, because all the lights on the WiFi came back on and it was all good.  Wasn't that just peachy.

Stay safe.  Be well.

What Are My Chances

Some years back, my friends Florence and Dan would throw large potluck barbecue parties yearly in honor of the Perseid meteor showers.  In fact, that was where I met George.  We would all sit outside, talking, sharing food and enjoying a libation, waiting for dark and the evening light show.  As I recall, there was a prize for the one who saw the first streak of tail flashing across the sky.  We also kept an eye out for the blinking lights of a particular satellite crossing south to north.  "I see it!  There it is!"  "No, dear, those are the warning lights of an airplane."  "Oh."  Beginning tonight, this is the best week to see the meteor showers, well worth watching.

And what are my chances of seeing this phenomenon?  Slim to none, I'd say, as I will be well into my first nap of the evening.  As night falls, so do my eyelids.  Times change, and so have I.

It has been, as my West Virginia neighbor would say, "hotting up."  The spray bottle has been keeping me going, and a glass of ice water is never far away and refilled many times.  I'm glad Michael has shed his thick winter coat, but I know he also suffers.  I've started giving him a cube of ice to lick out of hand, and yesterday filled his water bowl with ice.  I think it's helping.  We wait until nearly dark to go for the last walk of the day, and sometimes we're lucky enough to catch a breeze.

I highly recommend stepping outside tonight to watch Nature showing off.  Unlike the comet Hale-Bopp, which, after its appearance in 1997, will not be seen again in our lifetime, the Perseid shower can be enjoyed all week, and will be back next August.  You'll like it.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Midnight Lace

 ("Midnight Lace," 1960 noir film, Doris Day and Rex Harrison.)

First, I apologize for the oversize photo.  Either the "new and improved" version of Blogspot doesn't allow editing or I haven't figured it out yet.  Why can't they leave well enough alone?!

Next, the photo has nothing to do with murder or mystery, but the black, lacy leaves in front of a lackluster sunset brought that title to mind.

George is stopping by today.  He is quite a chef and I need to ask him how to fix kale.  Helper Dude brought me a big bunch from his mom's garden and I have no idea what to do with it, being a latecomer to health food.  I've seen it used on cooking shows so know how to strip the leaves, but I guess I've never found the recipes that enticing.  That's okay, I'm up for a new experience.

I haven't been out to the kitchen yet this morning, but I'm going to take a wild guess and say that the cats' bowl is empty.  They are driving me bonkers.  Ralph pats on my leg and shoulder while Celeste stands by, giving her tiny mews for attention.  I've got to go attend to business.  Besides, I haven't had my coffee yet.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Worst Of The Worst

I was that kid who was always picked last for the team, didn't matter what sport, and rightfully so.  I was the worst of the worst.  In baseball, I couldn't hit or catch.  In basketball, the best I could hope for was to accidentally get in an opponent's way.  Making a hoop was out of the question.  I wasn't a runner, so didn't go out for track.  I darn near broke my neck on the trampoline.  I probably still have bruises from dodgeball.  My dad had a tetherball pole made, hoping I could get better.  I inherited my sister's tennis racquet, but not her ability.  At boarding school, I went out for the drill team in an attempt to stay away from sports.

Horses were my salvation.  Back in the day, there were riding stables everywhere.  I don't remember how old I was when Daddy started taking me and teaching me to ride, but I had to have been pretty young.  I know I was accomplished by the time I got my first horse at 12.  In today's crazy world, it's hard to believe that a 12-year-old girl could go out alone and ride for hours and no one worried.  No one knew where I'd gone or when I'd be back.  There are kids in the valley now who can't leave their front yard.  For years after my last horse was gone, I would dream of riding.  Even my dreams meant freedom.  Ah well.

Tiddlywinks, anyone?

Stay safe.  Be well.

It's All Relative

Normal is such a relative term.  As such, yesterday was a normal day.  A cousin posted a cartoon today of a woman sitting still in a chair, with a caption, "It may look like I'm doing nothing, but in my head I'm quite busy."  That's me to a T.  If I ever actually accomplished all of the chores, crossed off everything on my list, or even got started, I'd be Wonder Woman.

As it is, taking Michael for his outings is the big deal of the day.  What a godsend that dog is.  He came at just the right time to help me with the pain of losing Bessie Anne.  His calm, detached demeanor was almost disturbing in the beginning.  Of all the great, well-behaved dogs I've been privileged to have, I've never known a dog like Michael.  No barking (I've never heard him bark), jumping, licking, pulling on the leash, no bad habits of any kind.  Even his dining habits are unique.  He lies down by his bowl and eats one kibble at a time, making his bowl last all day.  He is perfection on four paws.  I've been feeling quite favored lately as he's been giving me more little kissies on my hand, about as effusive as Michael gets.  He's also been lying by my feet more often.  Yay!

The last few days have been a break in the heat.  Clay texted me that this was his idea of what summer should be.  I agreed, so I put him in charge of weather.  Now I'll know who to blame if the temperature rises.

If I get a few things done today, it could be the new normal.  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Vote!

I have pretty much tried to stick to my mission statement, writing about life here at Farview Farm with not much reflection about the "real world."  My life is real enough for me.  The "real world," however, has been encroaching on my peace of mind.  The daily news is full of gestapo police tactics, righteous protests, destructive riots, the mind-boggling and constantly climbing numbers of  Covid-19 cases and deaths, children and teachers being sent into unsafe school conditions, the weary, tearful faces of first responders, doctors and nurses, the thought that Americans, Americans!, are not allowed to enter some other countries, daily reports of shootings and killings in the cities and suburbs, unemployment numbers in the millions, Congress at such odds with each other to the point of stalemate, leaving citizens to face poverty, and, let's face it, the lack of leadership at the top of some states and the nation.  I needn't go on.  You all live out there in it while I sit up here on my hill, observing and despairing.

The feeling of helplessness is nearly overwhelming.  There is one ray of hope, and that is our right and obligation to vote.  In all my eighty years, I have never failed to exercise that right in local, state, and top-level government elections.  I grew up in a politically diverse household.  My father was a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat and Mother was a staunch Republican.  The importance of the vote was a big deal, even though they would cancel each other's choice.  Hearing their arguments on both sides, I have rarely-to-never voted a straight ticket, casting my vote on the person or issue as I saw fit.  Not every election went my way, but I could live with the results because I had had the opportunity to put in my two cents.  "Ya don't vote, ya can't bitch."

That's the whole point of this piece.  Vote!  Make your voices heard.  Don't sit home and 'let the other guy' do it.  This upcoming election is too important to our American way of life and to the world.  I don't care if it's in person or by mail, vote!

I promise I will go back to hill life tomorrow, but I felt these things had to be said today.  VOTE!

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Road Less Traveled

(From "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost.) 

Some time back, I mentioned how my family would go for Sunday drives when I was a kid, driving aimlessly around Southern California, always on the back roads to nowhere.  It was fun then and it's fun now.

One time, Steve remembered such a drive when he was a boy and he'd seen a covered bridge somewhere around Auburn and he wanted to show it to me.  We took off in the morning on a lovely day and headed up Hwy. 80 into the hills.  There was just one problem...Steve couldn't remember where the bridge was.  From Auburn, we started taking roads to the north, a lot of roads.  No bridge.  We ended up back in Auburn so many times I was on a first-name basis with the iconic statue of the goldminer in town.  It became not so much of a pleasure drive as a quest.  Asking for directions was out of the question.  He would find that bridge!  We drove all day long, even stopping for more gas.  Finally (finally!) in late afternoon, we came across a little, ramshackle covered bridge across a small creek.  It wasn't as Steve remembered it, but it was a covered bridge, and our drive for the day was done.

When we moved up here, it was a split-second decision and neither of us knew the area.  Steve continued to work in the valley and got lost coming home a number of times.  In order to familiarize ourselves, we started going for drives, taking roads like Slug Gulch, Boondock Trail, Anthill Road, Gopher Gulch, and, my favorite, Mini Bar Trail, a little road off of Bucks Bar.

Later, when my friend Doris and I were going shopping down in Cameron Park, she would often say, "I've never been on that road," and off we'd go exploring, never knowing where it would lead.  It was fun.

I'm pretty much a Point A to Point B gal these days, but I have good memories.

Blogger has changed to a "new and improved" format.  Aarrgh!  Nothing is the same or where it was, so if the blog gets screwed up sometimes, bear with me.  I'm on a road not traveled.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Quite A Day

In 1972 there was a commercial for Life cereal with the tag line "Mikey likes it!"  Michael is too dignified to ever be called Mikey, but Michael likes going to town.  Three stops are better than two, because there is a bigger, better selection of trees and bushes, and he doesn't miss a one.  He is my goodwill ambassador everywhere we go, and he stood me in good stead at the lab.  I did something I never do...I made a complaint.  I explained to the supervisor about the mess-up in tests done (or not done) and how it had caused me unnecessary trips to town, rescheduled appointments, etc., and also that my insurance company was being over-billed.  I must have presented my case well, because she reimbursed me in cash for gasoline and agreed to back off all but the one charge.  I'm sure it helped that Michael quietly gave her the stink eye the whole time.  He's a support dog in more ways than one.

As per usual, not much got done the rest of the day other than getting the trash down to the big road.

There was a call after eight o'clock, and that was unusual in itself.  My Kids know that they'd better be bleeding to call that late.  Even more strange was that I never pick up an "unknown caller" call, but I did last night.  It turned out to be from a great-nephew in Maine, of all places.  I didn't meet him until he was an adult, and he's only been here twice, but we ended up talking for four hours!  It was in two segments because he had to recharge his phone in between.  He was getting the tail end of hurricane Isaias and the power was out for a time.  He really wants to come out and meet the Kids, but that will have to wait until the virus allows a gathering, and who knows when that will be.  I'll have time to dust.

Up well past my bedtime, it was no surprise that the sun was well up when I finally woke up today.  It had been quite a day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Everything's Rosy

Well, that might be a slight exaggeration.  Maybe not everything, but I'm sure, after two days of nothing but tomato sandwiches, that I've taken on a rosy glow.  It wasn't self-control, but the shortage of more tomatoes that held me to my usual two halves yesterday.  I kid you not, I was this close to addiction, but only with the home-grown variety.  It would never occur to me to eat a store-bought out of hand.

Is it a bird?  Is it a plane?  No, it's Superman!  All Helper Dude needs is a cape.  He fairly flew about and, using nothing but his monster weed-eater, cleared most of the star thistle off the top of the hill.  I have actual front, side, and back yards again!  I was honestly getting depressed at the seedy, unkempt look of the place.  It wasn't that I didn't care that it looked so rundown, it was because I couldn't use the mower.  There was no chance of sparks with HD's magic machine.  Boys and their toys is no joke.  HD was still smiling when he quit, saying that using the new equipment actually made the job fun.  To each his own.

Michael and I have to go to town today and I'm not happy.  For the regular reasons, sure, but I have to have more blood drawn.  I went last month, telling the tech to be sure to draw enough for the two doctors who had sent in orders.  It wasn't her fault, but I found out that the lab had not done all the tests, without one of which the doctor would not see me, and required a second trip.  Then I discovered that out of three tests requested, only two were performed, and those, as I said, done separately.  At my last appointment, the doctor said the third test had not been performed, either!  Aarrgh.  Oh well, at least the truck has A/C.

I hope everyone got a glimpse of the full, golden moon rising last night.  It was spectacular.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Out Of Control

Helper Dude had brought me some of his mother's home-grown tomatoes.  The red and yellow cherry tomatoes were gone immediately, sweet as candy.  I mulled over what to do with the full-size types.  Sandwiches are a rarity in this house as I just don't eat a lot of bread, and when I do make a sandwich, I only make a half at a time, and only one of those a day.  I just happened to have bought a loaf of 12-grain bread last week, tempted by deli turkey and an avocado.  The fixings were enough for the better part of the week.  A BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato) sounded good, except that I didn't have either the B or the L.  Hmmm. I had the T and I had George's beautiful fresh basil, a great combination.  I made a half-sandwich, slathered with butter and mayo, and sat down to eat.  Ohmigosh, dripping juice and oozing mayonnaise, I was in heaven.  Surely another half wouldn't hurt.  I mean, people eat a whole sandwich at one sitting all the time, right?  The temptation was so great that I succumbed.  That's when I lost all self-control and actually made a third half, telling myself that those tomatoes and basil shouldn't go to waste.  I waddled around for the rest of the day, and sure didn't need dinner last night.

On our morning walk, I "heard" that my neighbor had a new donkey, such funny-sounding animals, and later learned that she now has two!  She has no self-control, either.

Stay safe.  Be well.

New Tricks

It might not be possible to teach an old dog a new trick, but sometimes an old dog can teach a young one.  One of the chores I had planned for Helper Dude 2 (I'm assigning him the full Helper Dude title now) was breaking down and tying up literally years' worth of cardboard boxes that had accumulated on the deck by the kitchen door.  They were an eyesore and a fire danger.  No excuses, it just happened over time, and it was a daunting task for me.  I do pretty well if I keep up with a chore, but if it gets ahead of me, it keeps going south until it hits rock bottom, and that's where I was with the boxes.  Some people save rubber bands or bits of string.  I am incapable of throwing away baling twine; it comes in so handy for so many things.  I'd brought a bunch up from the barn.  "Okay, how do you want to do this?"  "Well, I usually laid out two pieces of twine, laid as many flattened boxes on as I could lift, and tied them up."  "Okay," and he tried.  "Um, could I show you an easier way?"  I don't like to tell a working man how to do his job, but it would have taken forever his way.  I have tried for years to learn how to make a "trucker's knot" without success, but have made a reasonable facsimile, and showed HD how to do it.  "Wow, that works!" and the old dog smiled.

HD had allotted so much time for my place and said, "Okay, what's next?"  He had just bought a new behemoth of a weed-eater and I think he wanted to show it off.  "Well, you could cut down a swath in the west field where Michael does his business."  I have been feeling so bad for poor Michael when he's had to lift his leg or squat in the midst of star thistle, exposing his tender private parts to a bed of thorns.  Ouch!  That done, HD moved on to other areas.  He explained that he puts in earbuds, gets in the rhythm, and just zones out when he's weed-eating.  I wasn't going to be the one to stop him.  He insisted he's coming back tomorrow to cut down this, that, and the other area.  This place has been looking so bad, but the weather has been against my using the mower.  New dog might have learned a new trick yesterday, but he would brook no argument on this score.

It was a very productive day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Child Proof

I truly do appreciate all the advances made to make containers of all kinds childproof.  Take your eyes off a kid and they'll get into something they shouldn't.  My problem now is that as I've gotten older I have the hand strength of a toddler.  This was brought home to me yesterday when I tried to open a can of tuna, a can with one of those convenient pull tabs.  Uh huh.  I got the tab lifted and the seal broken, and then the fun began.  I couldn't peel the lid back and off.  The lid was recessed just enough that a can opener was not effective.  With a quarter-inch of tuna showing, I was envisioning having to eat the fish with tweezers.  Where there's a will, spurred by hunger, there's a way.  Armed with pliers and a screwdriver, the deed was accomplished.  When I wasn't cussing, I was laughing.

Potato chip bags take the strength of Hercules or a pair of scissors, and the same goes for cereal.  The lid on the mouthwash bottle must be squeezed and turned at the same time.  Tear strips are great, if you can get them to tear.  Trying to break the vacuum seal on a fresh can of coffee this morning was not my idea of how to start the day.  Easy open, my Aunt Fanny!

Ah well, the kiddies are safe.

George dropped off a bag of fresh-picked, fragrant basil.  I haven't decided whether to make pesto or pizza.  (Neither will be sealed.)

One of the helper-dudes is coming by this afternoon to do some odd jobs.  I'll look around and see what needs opening while he's here.

Stay safe.  Be well.