Cat Games

I never cease to be amazed at the ingenuity of cats and their ability to amuse themselves in new and different ways.  It doesn't take much.  For instance, Ralph enjoys the tear strips from bags and Celeste will play for the longest time with her little piece of blue fluff.  I don't know if it's one or both, but the cats have started using the bathroom throw rugs as skateboards or sleds.  I've not seen them, but from the places I am finding the rugs lately I imagine they get a running start and use the rugs to slide across the room.  Whee!!

Dogs are less imaginative on their own.  They like to play tug-o-war with a buddy and fetch or catch with their human, but left to their own devices, they seem to prefer to lie down and nap.  It takes all kinds, and I can't imagine being without both.

I am easily trained, and Missy is doing her best.  The past couple of mornings she has been waiting by her bowl.  The routine goes like this:  I get Inga, who hasn't needed a rope, out and up onto the feed stand, then go back and put down breakfast for Missy.  "Right here, lady, put the food right here."  Yesterday Inga evidently had caught a whiff of cat and spooked.  She couldn't make up her mind if it was safe to go in the little room.  I don't mind waiting her out (it doesn't take much to scare Inga), but Missy evidently got irritated by the delay and came out to see what was what.  That sent Inga into a tizzy and she ran off and never did get her cereal.  I guess from now on Missy will get fed first so Inga doesn't see her.  Why do I think that was Missy's plan in the first place?

Comes A Time

Thoroughly inculcated by Depression Era parents with the mantra, "Use it up, wear it out, make do," it's a habit that is hard to break.  I realized some time ago that my favorite quilted flannel jacket was getting raggedy around the cuffs, there were a few holes here and there, and more than a couple of buttons were missing, but it was still serviceable (no, really).  It was like reaching for an old friend each chilly morning and in cold weather I have worn it day and night.  Let's face it, I'm a little ragged around the edges, too, and who am I to judge?  There comes a time, however, and yesterday when a big tear in the sleeve happened just because I was reaching for the feed bucket, I knew it was time to retire Jacket.  I felt like I should hum Taps as I stuffed it into the trash bin.  I had to do it right away; to hesitate would be my defeat.  It's hard to let go.  Sigh.

There is a jacket in training, a blue one.  It's been held in reserve as my go-to-town jacket and it's missing only a few buttons.  It's been called to duty as my everyday barn coat now.  We don't have a relationship yet, but that will come in time.

It, it appears, is intent on building a condo under the shed.  In addition to the hole in front, I noticed he's started construction on another pit to the side of the porch, possibly a granny flat for the in-laws.  I don't need one It moving in, let alone a whole extended family.  It's time to empty the litter box and put a stop to this right now.

Enough!

Contrary to popular opinion, I am not running a home for wayward or homeless animals here.  How is the word being spread and who is spreading it?  "Go to Farview Farm and make yourself at home."  I have no idea what creature decided to move in and is making a burrow under the "porch" to the second shed, but it's too big to be a ground squirrel.  Those guys never pile up the dirt  in a mound like this, anyhow.  I haven't caught sight of whatever it is, but I've had enough and it's time for It to move on!

We've passed through a cold snap and temps up to 70 are predicted for this week.  That sounds lovely, but we definitely need more rain and snow if we're not headed for another drought year.  Depending on which coast, it's either feast or famine with the weather.

What A Way...

What a way to start the day!  The window behind the computer screen looks out to the southeast, directly where the sun rises, so I get a preview of coming attractions.  Not to be outdone by sunset of the night before, East put on a spectacular light show of her own in the morning.

Missy was in her room again.  I don't really want to get too close to her; I know me.  If she let me pick her up or even pet her, the next thing would be to bring her in the house and add her to the menagerie, and Missy is a cat with a job.  That being said, she thought about running away when I opened the stall door, but decided to stick around when I shook the can with her breakfast.  While I don't want to make her a pet, I do like it that I've earned her trust.

What a way to spend the day!  Pete had invited me to his house and I accepted.  He took me to an upscale Japanese restaurant, promising me sushi.  I love Japanese food, and it's been years and years since I've indulged.  Holy moly, he ordered a lot more than two kinds of sushi!  I don't know the name, but there were decadent crisp packets stuffed (and I mean stuffed!) with creamy crab, gyoza, and succulent, buttery ahi sashimi.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  It was a leisurely meal and we had time for real conversation.  Back at his place, he proudly showed me his new television.  I thought his "old" one was big; his new acquisition is huge!  With his state-of-the-art sound system, it was like sitting in a theater.  Color and clarity were astounding, and Planet Earth II showed to the best possible advantage.  It was with great reluctance that I had to tear myself away after such good company and a great day.

West put in a weak bid last evening, but couldn't really compete with East yesterday.  E for Effort, but no cigar.

I realized I hadn't seen Waldo in days and looked in the wastebasket.  There he was.  Celeste is crooning to him as she walks the halls.

All's right in my world.  What a day!

Crescendo

If yesterday was a piece of music, everything that happened during the day was a prelude to this fabulous crescendo at the finale.

Bessie's eyesight isn't quite as bad as her hearing, and she caught sight of Missy crossing the pasture while I was in the barn in the morning.  Intruder!!  Between the cat in the pen and the dog sounding the alarm, the goats were spooked and feeding did not go as well as could be hoped.  Bess and I walk back up to the house together after chores.  If she finds something interesting on the way, she comes to the door and asks to be let in a few minutes after I go in.  I got busy with one thing and another so it was awhile before I realized she hadn't come to the house.  That pushed my worry button.  Bessie Anne is getting up there in dog years, approaching fifteen, and this break in routine scared me.  I went out to look for her, afraid of what I might find.  My goofy girl was at the fence line, keeping an eye on the strange cat.  It was cold out there, so Bess took my word that we would be safe and decided to come home.  I don't need this kind of drama.  Whew.

My friend Arden was coming for a visit in the afternoon, so I dusted (no, really!), did some other prep stuff, and pretty much kept on the move all day.  Arden arrived bearing chip and dip and we munched while having a nice chat, talking of "shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings."  We walked out together as she was leaving (those are her taillights on the left) and we stood in awe for a moment at the blazing sky.  She drove off and I put the girls to bed.  The music died down and day was done.  It was a good day.

Catnapping

If abducting a person is kidnapping, I guess taking a cat is catnapping and I'm guilty without intent.  At any rate, Missy seems to have settled in to "her" room.  I did take the cat bed down to the barn.  It's not large, but neither is she, and it has a semi-covered section, perfect for a drafty building.  When I went down yesterday, Missy was snuggled down and comfy, so much so that she just looked up at me and wasn't willing to get out of bed simply because I showed up.  Hey, I'm happy she's happy.

The predicted snow passed us by.  I'd actually hoped for a flurry or two; it never lasts long and is so lovely over the fields and trees and I didn't have to go anywhere.  It wasn't that we were having a heat wave because it was bloody cold all day.  Stove did his best to keep up, but it was hard work.  I learned my lesson and gave him an early start again today.  I'm drinking a lot more hot chocolate these days.  Holding a hot cup is one way to thaw out frozen fingers after chores.

The house critters and I are guilty of catnapping in the more traditional sense.  Wrapped in an afghan with a couple of cats on my lap, getting warm and sleepy come at about the same time.  I'm not on any timetable, so I nap whenever without apology.  The cats and Bess Anne fall asleep if they close their eyes for two seconds.  They may dream of many things, but apologizing is not one of them.

Luck Of The Draw

It was a cold, cold morning and I stopped on my way to the barn to pick up that bed for Missy.  She was out hunting in the pasture and I imagine the breakfast I put down for her was welcome, too.  The girls double-timed it through their cereal and were out in the weak sunshine in no time.  I was wrong about Stove not needing me; who else would feed him and baby him along?  Another couple of loads of wood to the porch were in order to keep him satisfied.

Having put so much into the freezer, it seemed prudent to take something out.  I'm very good about putting a date on a bag, but I need more discipline about putting a label on food.  Rummaging around, there was a lot of, "Hmmm, I wonder what that is."  Pork chops and hamburger are readily identifiable, but there were a lot of unknowns in there.  I was hoping to find some split pea soup or maybe some stew, but settled for a bag of some purply stuff and hoped for the best.  It turned out to be borscht!  Talk about the luck of the draw on a wintery night.

The phone rang well after dark.  Nobody calls me at night.  It was my oncologist with the results of that CT/PET scan done a few weeks ago.  I wasn't going to get my knickers in a twist until I heard one way or the other, because...well, just because.  I will admit, however, to relief when she said that almost two years after surgery, there was absolutely no sign of cancer.  Hey, when Lady Luck is with you, you're on a roll.

The rain held off all day then poured all night.  There is no sign of snow yet this morning, but Bess Anne sure didn't dawdle on her outing.  I've already fed Stove his appetizer to get him going.  It will be nice to come back to a warm house after chores.

It was a good day.

Bag Lady

A kitchen implement that gets a lot of use here is the vacuum sealer, and it got a good workout yesterday.  For me, it's a tremendous money saver, allowing me to take advantage of sales (particularly meat), buying in quantity, and not have food go to waste.  The "bags" come in a roll and are cut to size, also minimizing waste.  One end is heat sealed, the bag is filled, and then by some ingenious means all the air is sucked out and that end sealed.  Food, either in the freezer or dry stuff on the shelf, will keep seemingly indefinitely without freezer burn or mold.  Yesterday I bagged seven mini-meatloaves and eight pork chops at close to half the price.  That's a lot of meals stored ahead of need.

Unlike his pushy sister, Ralph rarely asks for anything.  When he does, I usually give in.  Sometimes, especially on a cold morning, he likes to sit on my lap when I'm at the computer.  It matters not to him that it is very awkward for me at the keyboard, twisted sideways at the desk and trying to reach over him as I am right now.  Once in awhile if we are alone together in the kitchen, he will politely indicate he'd like a treat so I sneak him a few bits.  For a rough-and-tumble guy, he can be a real gentleman, and I'm a softie.

Bess and I took advantage of a relatively warm, sunny day to take a couple of walkabouts yesterday, knowing that snow down to about our level is due this afternoon and overnight.  There is an old cat bed in the shed that I might take down to the barn for Missy.  She doesn't have the body mass of the goats to keep warm in really cold weather.  (Did I say I'm a softie?)

It doesn't do to let a chill get a grip on the house, so Stove and I are going to have to work together today.  He doesn't need me, but I sure need him.

Dibs

I thought when the Kids left home my days of hearing, "Dibs!," were over.  While the word isn't actually said, the attitude is loud and clear in this house.  Celeste claims the priority spot on my lap, Bessie Anne does her best to fit on the foot rest of the recliner, and Ralph has to squeeze himself in where he can.

The desk for my computer is not really a desk, but an old vanity that Steve picked up at some yard sale.  It works for me.  The bedroom is probably the coldest room in the house (heat doesn't turn corners).  With the onset of winter, my hands would go stiff with cold on the keyboard so I recently bought a little space heater to use in the dark o' morn.  An added benefit is the warm air that blows into the kneehole over my feet.  Guess who has called dibs on that space?  Celeste may be small, but she rules, and she's a girl who likes her comfort.

Missy appears to have settled into her spot in the barn.  She ate everything I put down for her again.  I truly hope I haven't stolen someone's pet cat, but she seems to have made her choice.  The goats are just going to have to adapt.

I think Stove was a little embarrassed that I tattled on him and he did a much better job yesterday.  The rain and wind had stopped by daybreak, but it was a cold, cold day.  Comfort food was in order so I made meatloaf for dinner, a lot of dinners, in fact.  Some time back, I started making mini-meatloaves instead of one large loaf and bake, package and freeze them separately.  It's very nice to pull out a ready-to-heat meal and not have to dirty more dishes or pans.

If my black eye were the United States, the bruise is headed toward Guatemala.  Fortunately, it's losing color as it goes.  I try to kid myself that it's not noticeable, but the checker's reaction at the store the other day told me that's not so.  "You should see the other guy," was all I could say.

Another Mouth

Miss C., whose name is evolving into Missy, was in the barn again the other morning, huddled in the empty stall.  She's a little waif, either very young or small for her age.  She's done such a good job of clearing rodents from the barn, and sometimes during the day I see her sitting in the fields hunting ground squirrels.  Those pickings are pretty slim this time of year as those pesky critters are underground in their burrows.  I don't need another mouth to feed and I don't want another cat in the house, but a barn cat is worth having so yesterday morning I put down a small bowl of feed for Missy (see?).  She wasn't in the barn at the time, but every morsel was gone when I put the girls to bed last night.

The temperature has been steadily dropping the last few days.  Stove was having one of his cranky fits, swallowing chunks of wood whole and not giving much in return.  It took all day to get the house up past 50 degrees.  It was a good day to wrap up in the afghan, pile on a couple of cats, and watch the NFL playoffs.  I wasn't vested in the Jaguars-Patriots game, but put a nickel bet on the Pats.  Dave owes me big time.  The Vikings' performance was a huge disappointment.  They were soundly trounced by the Philadelphia Eagles.  It was a rout, and the Vikings won't be playing in the Super Bowl.  Drat.

The promised storm blew in overnight, the operative word here being "blew."  The wind is howling out there in the dark this morning.  Stove and I are going to have to have a talk about his performance today.

Time Travel

After a trip up to the store and then bringing more wood to the porch, I was flipping channels and got caught by Huell Howser's enthusiastic, "That's a-MAZ-ing!"  He was making a tour of the Railroad History Museum in Old Sacramento, which I have never done.  As he was going through the exhibits, I was transported back in time to when I was a kid and my family did a lot of traveling by train, and not just short trips, either.

In Southern California, any trip for us began at Union Station in Los Angeles, a huge, ornate building with a distinctive landmark tower.  Back in the day, it was a bustling place as trains were the primary means of long-distance travel.  The first thing after buying tickets was to find a red-cap porter who would take our luggage to our assigned car.  We always traveled in coach, not in a compartment, which I, as a kid, thought was much more fun.  As much as anything, I remember the smells and sounds of a train station:  conductors calling out, "All abooard!," the hiss and cloud of steam as the engineer prepared to leave, and the heavy chuffing of the wheels that slowly picked up speed.  When I was five, my mother and I went by train from Los Angeles to Chicago, where we visited her family in Peoria.  I don't remember how many days it took.  The car attendants were so very kind.

Mealtimes were tightly regimented and announced by a man with a mini-xylophone going through the cars.  The dining cars were really luxurious, with heavy white linens and beautiful china and silverware, and fresh flowers on the tables.  Even as a child, I was impressed by the food, and could order things we never had at home.

While travelers were at dinner, as if by magic the car attendants would transform seats into single-width bunk beds with privacy drapes.  I was the luckiest because I always got the top berth and could watch the night landscape go by, feel the rocking of the train, and fall asleep to the clickety-clack of the wheels.

We traveled again by train when I was seven all the way to Mexico City and back.  The last time I took to the rails was in the early 1980s, a short hop from San Luis Obispo to Los Angeles.  Boy, times had changed, and not necessarily for the better.  Sigh.

One of these days I'm going to have to go to the Railroad Museum and relive another trip in time...on a train.

Migration

I always take my Kids' advice when they tout me to a particular television program because they know me pretty well.  I rarely return the favor for the same reason.  Somehow I can't imagine Dave being as enthralled with "Victoria" or "Downton Abbey" as I.  This week Pete suggested I might enjoy watching reruns of "Planet Earth"on the new, big TV screen and he was right.  The clarity and detail of marvelous photography is astounding in HD.  I've particularly enjoyed seeing the migration of birds and animals in this series.

Years ago I was fortunate enough to take a trip to Alaska and remember standing at the base of the Mendenhall Glacier in awe, looking at the colors, watching it periodically calve, and knowing that it was constantly on the move.  I'm watching something similar in the mirror now (hoping nothing will drop off).  My black eye is no longer black, fading to shades of purple with touches of yellow.  The swelling has gone from the upper lid to the lower and is also lessening, almost gone.  Like the Mendenhall, the colors are, however, on the move.  Gravity being what it is, they are migrating down my cheek.  Were it not my face, I might feel differently and I try not to take it personally.  It is pretty fascinating as I never know what I'm going to see every day.  I do wish I could just change channels and make it go away, all the same.

The temperature was dropping last evening when I put, or tried to put, the kids to bed.  Tessie pulled her "maybe I will" stunt and I was losing patience waiting for her in the cold.  She seems to have a sense of when I'm at the end of my tether and she finally gave in and came in.  Whew.  It's very probable she could get a whiff of Cheeky (Miss C, as I now think of her) who had tucked herself into a back stall, but it's up to those two to get along.  Neither is going to attack the other, and it's any port in a storm for both.

Rather than light a fire last night, the four of us huddled together under and on Deb's luxurious afghan in the chair.  Crowded, you bet, but warm.  It was good practice for when we all migrated down the hall together and took our self-assigned places in bed.

It's 28 degrees this morning.

Buttered Up

It's a wonder I don't go slipping and sliding through life (instead of bouncing off tables, etc.), Celeste has me so buttered up.  As mad as I was at her the other night, she cracks me up every morning.  Just as my routine is the same, she has one worked out, as well, and she follows her script to the letter.  I watch a bit of morning news after computer time, mainly to see the weather report, and she comes and sits on my lap and it begins.  "You're my favorite mom, Mom."  Uh huh.  The last thing I do before heading out to the barn is make a pit stop.  Celeste leads me down the hall and into the bathroom where she rubs constantly against my legs and assures me of her undying affection.  "You, Mom...only you."  Heading back to get my jacket, she carefully and vocally herds me toward the kitchen.  "This way, Mom.  That's right, you're doing good.  Right this way now," as she leads me toward the treat bag.  I will admit that, laughing at this lavish and wanton display, I weaken every day.  As I reach for the bag, she rubs her head against my hand in a final gesture and I am dismissed.  Celeste knows how to play me like a fine violin.

Both cats have a bedtime routine together in cold weather.  I always sleep on my side with one leg slightly drawn up in a figure 4.  When I settle in bed, Ralph and Celeste seem to play the current game of The Floor Is Lava (in this case, the blankets) as they leap into safety of the pocket of the configuration to snuggle.  This is a queen-size bed, but it might as well be a twin for all the room I get.  Turning over, as one does in the night, becomes a full-scale battle with two immovable objects who refuse to leave their warm nest.  If I do manage to change position, they immediately change sides and we start all over again.  One of Beau's favorite expressions when faced with the inevitable is, "Well, what can ya do?"  Sigh.

The predicted rain began after dark last night, but seems to have stopped this morning, at least Miss Bess wasn't wet when she came back in.  We're supposed to get snow sometime this week.  If it stays dry today, I may bring more wood to the porch.

Better Than Good

It wasn't just a good day yesterday, it was a great day!  There was time to get some chores done before my friend was due, and there was only one hiccup.  I'd left the vacuuming to last as always when company is coming.  It only makes sense because of Bessie's messes.  She brings in twigs and bits of leaves every time she comes into the house.  I had just started sweeping when I noted puffs of dust and trails of dirt left behind the vacuum.  Oh crum.  Now what?  I found a plugged hose, cleaned that out, and started again.  The problem only got worse, this time with clouds of dust spewing.  My efforts in dusting had certainly been an exercise in futility.  What I didn't have time for was a major overhaul on the machine, so put it away to deal with another day and hoped for the best.

I needn't have worried.  Tinka was more interested in my technicolor face than giving more than a glance at the house.  I had cleverly worn a purple top that was color coordinated with my shiner, which, by the way, is truly now purple and not black anymore.  It evidently had been some years since Tinka had been in Placerville, so I took us on a bit of a sightseeing tour on our way to the restaurant and she commented on how things had changed over time.  With rain looming in the forecast, we were given an absolutely perfect day for our outing.  We even saw bright patches of narcissus or daffodils on the way.

We talked and laughed all day.  I didn't get a chance to pull my joke on our waiter, who was a very, very serious young man.  Just as well.  I told Tinka my plan and she said if I did, she'd hit me and then I'd look like a raccoon.  Lunch was oh, so good, and I was delighted to find Crab Rangoon on the menu.  That is crab and cream cheese in a wonton wrapper and fried, and a favorite of mine for years.  Time flew by and we were still talking.

I count my friends by quality, not quantity, and I am so proud to call Tinka my friend.  Reluctantly, our day together came to an end.  It was a better than good day, it was excellent.

Going To Have Some Fun

The song in my head today is Harry Belafonte's 1957 song, "Mama Look'a Bubu."  It seems appropriate since "booboo" is a little kid's word for an "owie," and I have an outstanding booboo.  For the better part of a year, my friend Tinka and I had been saying that we needed to get together.  As it does, time passed and we did not meet.  A couple of weeks ago I called her and said, "Pick a date.  We are going to do this."  We agreed to meet for lunch...today.  I called her yesterday and gave her the opportunity to back out if she didn't want to be seen with the loser of a Muhammad Ali fight, but she's a game gal and didn't say no.  Tinka knows how I got the black eye, but no one else does.  I've been thinking all morning of what stories I could tell.  "My horse bucked me off at the rodeo."  There's always that lame one, "I walked into a door."  I think the best one I've come up with so far is to mutter to our waitress, "Don't make her mad."  We're going to have some fun today.

Thank goodness I'd replenished the birdseed because there was a turkey stampede to the feeding station in the morning and it could have turned ugly.  There had been a pretty good rainfall just before daybreak and then the clouds cleared and it turned into a lovely day.  Even so, it was a surprise to see blossoms popping out on the almond tree, but beautiful.  January is early for this, I think.

With the best of intentions, not much got done yesterday.  Aches and pains in places I didn't even know I had came to the fore and sat me in the chair.  I couldn't even feel guilty about taking another day off.  That was about the only thing I couldn't feel.

Regardless of anything else going on, the animals must be tended.  There is a sense of peace that comes when I'm putting the kids to bed, similar to when the Kids were little and I knew they were all safe each night.  Even Tessie was cooperative.  Who could not pause and give thanks with such a beautiful view?  Not me.

It's going to be a good day.

If You Must

Lumped and bumped and colorful, I could have used another day off, but there are those things that can't be put off.  The birds were completely out of birdseed and I didn't want to get mugged by a gang of hungry turkeys.  The girls were running low on goat chow, too, so Bess and I made the trek down to Mt. Aukum.  There were a lot of things I'd rather have done than go out in public with this shiner, but ya' do what must be done.  I was laughing inside at Dave's and Patrick's startled expressions when they saw me.

Another "must do" was to bring up more firewood to the porch as the rack was down to the last four pieces.  The last couple of days have been pretty nice, but nearly a week's worth of rain is predicted in the forecast and while it's a chore to bring wagon loads up in good weather, it's a real drag to run out while it's raining.

In response to Kit's comment yesterday, I honestly had thought about getting one of those crime scene cleanup crews to come in, but decided that when no crime had been committed, it probably wasn't appropriate.  I'm still working my way through the house.

Aftermath

I don't know how much blood weighs, and I certainly wouldn't recommend it as a diet, but I know I lost five pounds overnight (there's always a bright side).  I was left with a spectacular black eye that would make Floyd Patterson proud and a technicolor purple egg on my forehead.  I can't see the back of my head so only the sore spot tells me where the scalp wound is.  It can't be very big, and it's hard to believe so much blood came from a small cut.  Celeste and I are going to have to have a talk.  A dark grey cat on a dark green rug in a dim room is a recipe for disaster.  She wasn't hurt, but she needs to get out of the way of the clumsy lady of the house.

Yesterday, like it or not, was laundry day.  I'd used so many towels trying to stanch the blood flow and the bedding was also soaked, as well as everything I'd worn.  Load after load went into the washer.  I got a small start on cleaning blood spattered surfaces, but the event had left me shaky and I decided I needed rest.  Wasn't I glad that it was a football Sunday?  The Steelers lost to the Jaguars by three points, sigh.  I finally found the right channel for the Minnesota Vikings-St. Louis Saints game that followed and was on the edge of my seat as the score went back and forth to the very end.   The Vikings won by 29-24.  Woohoo!

It's back to business as usual today.  Enough of this lollygagging around.

Hit And Miss

The weekends have turned into actual weekends, what with all the cooking shows on Saturday and football on Sunday.  The Steelers are going up against the Jacksonville Jaguars today and the winner may play in the Super Bowl.  Not that I'm biased, but GO STEELERS!

I was so happy to hear from Larry yesterday.  He was telling me about sitting on the beach and talking to the gentleman next to him.  Turned out the guy's cousin was a friend of the Kids and had lived across the street from us in Chino.  How's that for "six degrees of separation"?  Larry's next news had my jaw dropping.  He casually mentioned that warning sirens had sounded across the island, warning of a ballistic missile headed for Hawaii(Oahu).  Oh my God!  The all-clear did not go out for 45 minutes when the powers that be admitted it was a mistake.  Larry seems to have taken this event in stride, but I can imagine the panic this caused.

Larry dodged that one, but I took a hit of my own last night.  Waking from my pre-bed nap in the chair, I started to walk across the room, didn't see the cat, tripped and smacked my head on the banister.  Stunned, I tried to get up and hit the other side of my head on the heavy end table.  Crum!  Scalp wounds bleed profusely.  I've never seen so much blood ever.  Walking through the house this morning was like walking through an abattoir.  I've got a major clean up to do today, and it is definitely a DIN project.

Green And Growing

Rain, followed by days of sunshine and temps in the 60s, has caused a growth spurt of grasses in the pastures and not just mine.  All the hills on the drive to town are green, too.  There were some happy cattle and horses chowing down on the fresh vegetation.  I wish there were better places to pull over off the road because I'd love to get a picture of the calves and foals that are beginning to appear.  There is a fair amount of water in the middle fork of the Cosumnes River and that's a good thing.  During drought years, one could walk across and barely get one's shoes wet.  It's not just people who suffer in a drought.  Wild things depend on the rivers for water, too.

I've cut back on the amount of alfalfa for the girls, as they prefer the green stuff.  It's the time of year when their milk is the best, if they were still producing.  I've got to remember to put milk on the grocery list, and eggs, as well.  It's been so long since I've had to buy either.

After the trials of the day before, yesterday was a day of rest and I was determined to finish the third of Ken Follett's trilogy, "Edge Of Eternity."  They are fictionalized historical novels, beginning with World War I and coming forward through the Cold War, and have been fascinating to read.  Having lived through World War II and on, I was familiar with the events portrayed.  I liked all in the series, but particularly the last one, and had been doling out servings instead of devouring the book in one gulp because I just didn't want it to end.  I'd promised to loan it to Arden when I'd finished and she's been waiting impatiently for me to finally put it down.  I let her know yesterday that I was done.

Boy, that coffee tasted good this morning!

Running On Empty

The other day I made an offhand remark about being able to do without coffee.  I was wrong.  Even though I drink only one cup each morning, being deprived yesterday gave me a nagging, low-grade headache.  Believe me, I am savoring each sip this morning.  The instructions prior to a CT (computed tomography) and PET (positron emission tomography) were explicit regarding diet and fasting.  Due to scheduling, I ended up going nearly 36 hours without eating, and found it's much easier to go without food than without a cup of coffee.  I had to laugh; after starting the fast, nearly every commercial on television advertised some restaurant or such with succulent steaks, shrimp, lobster, hamburgers, chicken; a taco looked good to me and pizza had me drooling.  Not nice.

The tests were to see if any cancer cells had migrated to other body parts.  Prep for the tests were easy (at one point I fell asleep) but lengthy, over two hours, but going through the machines took all of twelve minutes.  Just as it was with the radiation treatments, it was very much like being in an episode of Star Trek.  I kept expecting to see Bones (Dr. Leonard McCoy) instead of Robert, the technician who guided me through the process.

I'd have thought I'd be ravenous when I got home, but, honestly, nothing sounded good and I settled for a small packet of graham crackers for dinner, shared with Bess Anne.  Tessie acted like she'd never been balky and went to her room without delay last night.  It was a long, long day.

I Dood It

I wonder how many remember Red Skelton, the comedian who had many characterizations, including "Junior, the mean widdle kid," who, when confessing to some mischief would say, "I dood it."

The morning was shrouded in fog yesterday, damp and cold, and I wasn't about to go driving in that.  Dawdling and fiddlefarting around, I wasted most of the morning until the fog lifted, leaving just a grey drizzle and taking away my last excuse.  The cats still had food in their bowl, but their treat bag had only crumbs and I feared a mugging if I ran out of goodies.  The only time Celeste gets pushy and very vocal is when she wants a treat.  Ralph just gives me The Look.

The roads were surprisingly empty of traffic on the way to town.  How nice it was to get into Diamond Springs and find sunshine.  (Nature must like them best.)  I was in and out of two stops in an hour and was on my way back home, back into the drizzle I'd left.  I did buy new shoes so I could quit wringing out wet socks, and also a space heater for the bedroom.  Sometimes this room is so cold in the morning that I can't feel my fingers; hard to type that way.

Tessie pulled her "maybe I will and maybe I won't" act at bedtime.  Inga can't wait to get into the barn, Sheila goes in after checking it out, and then there is Tessie.  Some day I'll open her door and she goes right in, and then there are days like yesterday.  I go in, put down her treat, and stand and wait.  She comes as far as putting her nose in, and then backs off.  I sit down to wait her out.  She comes to the door, then walks away.  Again and again.  I get impatient and pretend to shut the door.  She pushes on the door, I open it, she puts her nose in and walks away.  Tired of waiting, I go out to lock the gate to the big pen.  She stays just out of grabbing reach.  I go back in the barn as I explain she really doesn't want to get left out overnight; it's cold, wet, and wild things go on the hunt in the dark.  Tess looks me in the eye as I talk, appears to think it over, and ambles into her room like she hadn't made me a crazy person and what was I upset about anyhow.

Trip to town, check.  Goats in the barn, check.  Time to sit down, take a breath, and say, "I dood it."

Poor Timing

The heavy rain had stopped by daybreak yesterday and it was just a misty morning.  The girls found that tolerable and went out grazing in the pastures, but I left the barn open just in case.  The weatherman had assured me the bulk of the storm had passed, but....  We got over five inches of steady rain in two days and nights and were ready for a break.

Believe me, I'm not complaining.  The poor people in SoCal and also up in NorCal who had suffered through the wildfires of summer are now being devastated by horrendous mudslides from denuded hills.  Homes and roads that escaped the fire are being destroyed by rivers of mud and debris.  The east coast has been locked in ice and snow.  It's been a pretty rough year, weatherwise.

At any rate, I was getting ready to walk out the door for the dreaded trip to town when Nature said, "Oh, no, lady.  That would be a no-go for you," and turned her waterworks on full blast.  I checked to make sure there was enough cat food for one more day, put my purse down, and fed Stove another chunk of wood.  I wasn't going anywhere, and was very glad the girls had a place to get in out of the rain.

Capricious as always, Nature turned off the faucet by what I could only assume was sundown. 

Leaks

The sky was leaking, the barn had leaks, and my shoes also sprang leaks yesterday.  If I had a boat, I certainly wouldn't take it out on the water because I'd spring a leak and sink for sure.  It had rained steadily throughout the night before and the rain continued all day long.  It rained last night, and it's raining still this morning.  Bess must be living a charmed life because not five minutes before she went outside today water had been cascading off the roof (never got the gutters cleaned), but she came back in with only a slight misting on her coat.  I should be so lucky.

Bess and I both got soaked last evening when we went out to put the girls to bed.  I'd left the big room open for the girls and anticipated a bit of hoohaw getting them to come out to go to their own rooms, but it actually went pretty well, considering.  Since the sole of my shoe was loose, I squelched my way back to the house where Bessie was waiting.  She'd stayed outside just long enough to take care of business and then ducked back to the shelter of the porch, but she was wet to the skin.  Once again, I thanked Clay.  Following our limit guidelines, he always finds unique, useful Christmas gifts and some years back he had given everyone packets of ShamWows, super-absorbent reusable towels.  I keep one by the front door for just such wet occasions.  A quick rubdown and Bess was almost dry.

This isn't a particularly cold storm, but it was a day to keep the home fire burning.  That damp chill creeps into the house and settles in the bones.  Stove got a good workout and I got exercise going out for more wood to feed him.  Weather notwithstanding, I've got to make a run to town today.  I've been putting it off as long as possible, but I'm almost out of cat food.  Trust me, I might make do without coffee, but could not face the cats if their bowl goes empty.  Besides, I need new shoes.

Old Habits

Oh crum.  I was doing so well, but some old habits are hard to break and yesterday I fell right back into "work a day (or two) and then take a day off."  I'd hoped that partial success and momentum would keep the DIN ball rolling, but no.  I got sucked in watching a special performance by Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga, on PBS, of course.  Even with all her publicity, I'd never seen or heard Lady Gaga and was curious.  She and Tony (he's been around so long, I feel I can call him Tony) performed many old, wonderful standards and they were great together.  Immediately following that came a documentary on Janis Joplin and I was stuck again.  I may have mentioned I have rather eclectic tastes.  I was busy (that's an understatement) with four little Kids during the '60s, but was still aware of the rock-and-roll music scene, San Francisco hippies, and Woodstock.  "Me And Bobby McGee" was a favorite at the time; Janis did Kris Kristofferson's song proud.  It's too bad that fame did not bring her happiness.  I'm really glad that there was no special by Buffy Sainte-Marie because then the entire day would have been shot down.  (I have a lot of 8-track tapes and LPs by Buffy Sainte-Marie.)

Weather is really coming in today and I was going to post a descriptive photo of last night's sunset, glowing red at the skyline with lowering clouds overhead, but my internet provider is once again having difficulties and I'm unable to access my emails.  Sigh.

 Well, that didn't take long...problem fixed!

The Uninvited

"The Uninvited" was a great, mildly scary (for its time) movie from 1944 with Ray Milland, Ruth Hussey, Donald Crisp, and Gail Russell.  My very own (not scary) uninvited, Cheeky, was back in the barn yesterday morning.  I assume she was hiding out from the rain in the night.  Not only did she not move while I was letting Inga out, she wouldn't even glance at me.  "Go away, lady.  Ya bother me."  I don't want to usurp someone's pet, but I'm tempted to start putting down a bit of food for her in Cindy's empty stall.  She's done a great job of decimating the rodent  population even though I still miss the mice, and a good barn cat is worth keeping around.  I wonder if she would put ground squirrels on her menu.  Hmmm.

Spurred by guilt, my great motivator, I made a frontal attack on The Black Hole and actually made some progress.  There is a big bag of books and another of magazines ready for Camille to take to the Senior Center and a box of empty boxes to go for recycling.  I'm not even close to being done in there, but now I'm hopeful.  Once upon a time, that room was my office and sewing/craft room.  I no longer work at home and it's been ages since I've done any sewing, so I don't know exactly what the room will become.  Since neither the Steelers nor the Vikings are playing today I might get more done in The Black Hole.  Or not.

For Inquiring Minds:  Waldo had hung out in the living room for days, but yesterday he was back in the wastebasket and I released him.  I've not seen him yet this morning, but heard Celeste crooning to him in the hall during the night.  He'll turn up somewhere.

Better Than None

It was grey and gloomy yesterday so I'd lost my best excuse.  I had a talk with Guard Pig and she granted permission to enter The Black Hole on condition that I did not stay too long.  What could I do?  I had to agree.  I guess a slow start is better than none.

Part of (make that most of) the problem with the Black Hole is that I don't know what to do with a lot of the stuff in there.  It's the one room where I've allowed my hoarding instincts to go wild.  There was a time when a new craft would come on the scene and I would throw caution to the wind and dive in at the deep end.  Passionate about whatever the trend might be, I would buy every color of, say, polymer clay, or yarn, or material, or paint.  There are large spools of elegant ribbons, and I haven't even touched on all the beads.  Eventually I would move on to the next new thing, but all of the unused stuff would pile up in The Black Hole.  What does one do with boxes of yarn and chests of material?  I'm incapable of throwing it into the trash.  I did break down a number of empty boxes stored in there to take to recycle.  You just never know when you might need a good box, but there is another supply of those out on the deck.  I'd hate to be left with none.  Sigh.

There is a dearth of snow in the mountains and that doesn't bode well for this summer, but I could get used to the wet weather this week.  We're getting some good rain, but only at night.  Even though it was overcast yesterday, the roads would have been dry and it wasn't cold enough to call Stove to duty.  It also keeps the girls happy.

It's raining again out there in the dark this morning.  Maybe I'll have another talk with Guard Pig today.  Or not.

On Duty

The overnight rain had stopped by daybreak and when I went down to the barn yesterday, the wind had dropped to a breeze.  I left the play yard open for the girls just in case, but left the big room closed.  It turned into a really lovely day, definitely too nice for housework.  Besides, the guard pig who stops all who would enter The Black Hole was on duty.  She was given to me years ago by a sister-in-law, and she actually has two outfits.  The other is more for dress-up, but I leave her in her housemaid's costume so it looks like somebody around here actually works.  Letting Bess out for her morning constitutional just now, I see that we had rain again last night.  If today is grey and gloomy, I may try to bribe Guard Pig.  She'd probably be glad to give her arms a rest and let me in.

A friend, Kathy V., had sent me a care package of goodies from her kitchen for Christmas: jams, dried figs, and a fruitcake!  In my book, fruitcake is a perfectly acceptable dinner, and I dined well last night and enjoyed a tasty snack of figs later.

I haven't posted a photo of a sunset since last year (okay, maybe a week ago).  Here's a good start to a new year.

DIN Delayed

I've been thinking about going into The Black Hole of Calcutta and finally doing something about that disaster of a room.  I've been thinking about it for, oh, a couple of years now.  As long as I keep the door closed, it's "out of sight, out of mind."  When Deb was here for Christmas, she asked to borrow one of my beading pattern books, saying she would make a copy and return it to me.  I got to thinking about that (thinking always gets me into trouble) and decided that my beading days were over and as long as she had an interest, there was no reason not to give her all my books and magazines on beading.  There was a time I beaded anything that didn't move and made a ton of jewelry.  Enthusiasm always exceeded common sense and I bought way more beads than needed for any project at hand and there are boxes and trays and even a cabinet full of beads, all in The Black Hole.  Therein lies the rub.  If I'm going to give the pattern books to Deb, there is no reason not to give her the beads, also.  In order to get to the beads and books, I'm going to finally have to break down and enter that forbidden realm.  DIN has become a reality, like it or not.

I've also been thinking (that word again) about my dad lately.  Rummaging around in the freezer for something for dinner, I found a package of frozen sausage patties.  Aha!  I always have cans of hominy on hand for several favorite recipes.  Sausage and hominy was one of Daddy's favorite simple meals, so what to fix last night was a no-brainer.  Gosh, it was good.  Daddy would have been so pleased.

As predicted, rain started falling sometime after dark.  What wasn't foretold was the accompanying wind.  It's a proper storm out there this morning.  The girls won't be happy and, as always, I worry about the trees, but we definitely need the rain.  I'll leave the big room open in the barn and I've got plenty of firewood up at the house, so we can weather this weather.  Nature has conspired to keep me inside to do some cleaning.  Sigh.

Bad Hair Day

Poor Inga.  Not only is she the lowest on the goat totem pole (I don't know why they are so mean to her), her winter coat has come in all cattywampus like a back full of cowlicks that no amount of brushing will smooth out.  Sheila's coat has thickened, but is still sleek and shiny like a seal.  She hasn't had a bad hair day in her life.  Tessie's coat is hard to describe; it harkens back to her long-haired sire.  Mostly short, there are patches of long hair along the spine and especially over her rump.  It's pretty, but different.

I kept thinking of Big Bird from Sesame Street yesterday.  My birds weren't yellow, but most certainly big.  There will be days when not one turkey shows up, and then there are those like yesterday morning when over thirty of those big birds came running when I went out to feed.  It's pretty amazing when they come en masse.

Fifteen or more of my other big birds were sunning with wings outspread on fence posts and poles.  After all this time, they've finally decided I mean them no harm (as long as I move slowly) and will hold their position until I come within eight feet or so before taking wing.  Even so, they only move a few posts away.  I know it's weird, but I just love vultures.

I'd been on Ladder 911 duty most of the afternoon.  Camille checks in every hour or so to let me know she's gotten down safely.  On her last call of the day, she was laughing because she found paint in her hair.  It was a bad-hair epidemic!

Quiet Day

After all the hoohah and hullabaloo of the Eve, New Year's Day was pretty quiet up here.  The Rose Parade floats were some of the most colorful, intricate, and elaborate that I can remember, possibly because I could actually see all the details this year (thanks, Pete).  It was appropriate that Gary Senise was the Grand Marshal.  The parade theme was "Making A Difference," and Mr. Senise has been tireless in support of the Armed Forces and especially veterans.

Having decided to take the day off, I watched another stage production on PBS.  This time it was "Driving Miss Daisy" with Angela Lansbury and James Earl Jones, he of that unmistakable deep voice.  The play was certainly well done, but I really prefer the 1989 movie with Jessica Tandy and Morgan Freeman.

They say revenge is sweet.  I don't know about that so much, but I was pleased to find I'd trapped a rat in the feed shed.  This is war!  The fershluggen ground squirrels have burrowed under the second storage shed up by the house and the holes were big enough to hide a small child.  I'll admit I took a perverse pleasure in dumping the cats' litter box down the largest one yesterday.  That stuff hardens like cement when it gets wet, and we're due for at least some rain this week.  Ha ha!

Toys.  Toys up and down the hall and scattered in the living room.  And what is Ralph's favorite, the one that will keep him occupied for the longest time?  A pull strip, preferably the red one with string attached from a cat or dog food bag, but any pull strip from any package or box will do.  He's like a little kid who would rather play with the wrapping from a present than what's inside.  Oh well, as long as he's happy.

Midnight Revelers

As predicted, New Year celebrations up here were punctuated by gunfire and they started early, about 11 last night.  With the price of ammunition these days and difficulty in obtaining same, I'm a little surprised at the apparent waste.  Long gone are our days of going into the causeway or the national forest (away from people and animals) for target practice and would shoot all day.  Being of a practical mind, I hoped that the midnight revelers remembered that bullets are subject to the laws of gravity.  Shot into the air, that bullet will come down...somewhere.

Years ago, and for years, there was a mini-competition in the family to see who could make the first call at midnight to wish each other Happy New Year.  Now we touch base during the day as none of us (make that few of us) stay up until the magic hour anymore.  Bess and I celebrated with a frozen pizza for dinner.  I get the good stuff and she gets bites of the crust.

Last week I watched old movies, including "White Christmas" with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye.  Yesterday I saw a stage production that was the precursor to the movie, and boy! was it ever different (and better).  It included more of the original, wonderful Irving Berlin songs, and truly had the best choreography I've ever seen.  It was, of course, on PBS, my go-to channel.

I also watched the Vikings trounce the Chicago Bears.  That was a great finish to the old year.  The Steelers also won their game, but it wasn't televised in our area.

I put a little extra in the girls' nighttime treat bowls last evening so they wouldn't feel left out.  Cheeky was prowling in the big pen, so there was no problem at all getting the girls into their stalls.  They might tolerate the cat, but would rather keep her at a distance.

Whatever its original intended use, the tall wastebasket in the bedroom has become a repository for Waldo.  If I can't find him anywhere else, I look in the wastebasket and he's looking up at me.  I'll find somewhere else for the trash.

Best wishes to all for a happy, healthy new year.  (Nice to see you back, Kit!)