Be Prepared

Walking down to the barn in the sunshine yesterday, I thought to myself, "This is the kind of winter I can handle.  A day or two of rain or snow, followed by sun and blue sky."  After breakfast, the girls found their favorite spots in the pasture to lie down and soak up some warmth.

Before chores, I had put beef short ribs and a homemade barbecue sauce in the crock pot because Camille was coming for dinner.  I am so lucky to have friends to share meals; I love to cook, but it's so much more fun to cook for someone.  Using the crock pot isn't exactly "cooking," but it sure does a good job with little work.  Ribs, creamy mashed potatoes, and a variety of vegetables simmered in white wine made a nice menu.  Cam had been up to Apple Hill and brought me 20 pounds of a couple of types of apples.  I see pies in my future.

More wood to the porch to keep Stove happy, but one wagon load isn't going to do it for what is coming and that is on the To-Do list today.  The prediction is not for one or two inches of snow, but for perhaps two feet in the next couple of days, beginning tonight.  Once upon a time, long, long ago, I was a Girl Scout and have never forgotten the motto, "Be prepared."  Today I will stack the porch rack to the top.  There is plenty of bottled water, just in case.  When we get a heavy snowfall in a short time, either someone spins out on the road and hits a pole, or a tree or branch falls on a power line and we lose electricity.  There is a supply of just about every size of battery that might be needed.  Note to self:  fill the oil lamps and trim the wicks.  I have a couple of unread books that will help while away the evenings if necessary.  I'm well stocked on food for all the critters and myself, and have a good supply of toilet paper.  Don't laugh, some things are critical!

At any rate, I'm about as prepared as I can be.  I sure did enjoy the sunshine yesterday.

Round Two

Here we go again for round two, or is it three?  When I went down to the barn, the rain had turned to a kind of half-hearted slush falling.  Sleet is a combination of hail and rain, but the messy stuff we had didn't qualify.  It did coat the long grass in the pen and made walking to the barn an interesting, slippery experience and, man, was it cold!  The girls are getting used to having the big room left open and, since they were a tad cranky yesterday, I also left the play yard open so the odd-man-out would have a place to get in out of the weather, too.

Hot cocoa is the best thing I know for thawing frozen fingers when chores are done.  I'd no more than fixed a cup when it began to snow in earnest.  In no time, we were in white-out conditions and in an hour there were two-plus inches of snow on the deck.  I still needed to bring firewood to the porch, and the photo was taken just as I stepped outside.  All that in just one hour!  I called to reschedule my Thursday doctor's appointment because another storm will be coming in toward the end of the week and no way was I going to drive in that stuff.  I did ask if Doctor couldn't just call me with the results of the ultrasound and save us both some time.  A short while later, her assistant called and said the test was completely clear.  Yay!

Stove was stuffed and cranking out heat.  I had another cup of cocoa and settled in to enjoy an old movie, one I've seen umpteen times and never tire of.  "Dark Victory" (1939, with Bette Davis, George Brent, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Humphrey Bogart, and a very young Ronald Reagan) is a tragic melodrama that brings me to tears no matter how many times I've seen it.  It's always good to have some DVR programs on hand when it snows because if the satellite dish gets filled up and live TV isn't available, as long as there's power there's something to watch.

And so went the day.

Welcome To My Igloo

With all good intentions yesterday, I did not get Stove stuffed to capacity and the house was a tad chill when Linda arrived in the afternoon.  Not cold enough for a parka, but we kept our vests on for comfort.

I had gotten waylaid by frustration with the television.  The NASCAR race was on and as big as the TV is, the picture was even bigger.  It's been an ongoing situation, but not critical until racing season began.  Stats and track position were way off screen to the left, and any subtitles down at the bottom were only half visible.  It's not like I haven't seen this situation with other televisions and I knew there was a way to fix it.  Back in the day when televisions were weighty behemoths, there were little hidden wheels to make vertical and horizontal adjustments.  I checked the new TV; no wheels.  I called the maker of the television and the nice lady tried to help without success.  She suggested I try my satellite provider.  Okay, and I put in another call.  After wading through the "Press 1 for English" menu and a relatively short wait, a young man in technical support came on.  "Press the star key on the remote."  There is a star key, but without any identifier I would have hesitated to push it, worried it might be a self-destruct button.  Following a few simple instructions, the problem was solved.  Ta da!  Until I could see the whole picture, I hadn't realized just how much I was missing.  Even without sound, I could follow Bowyer's progress.  He finished third.

Fortunately, I'd put dinner in the oven before the TV saga so Linda and I had a little time to converse and catch up before going to the table and it was a good visit.  She lives up above the snow line, so I wish her well on the roads this week.

Bess had a light sprinkle of raindrops on her coat when she came back in this morning, and I can hear real rain falling now.  Here we go again.  Welcome to my igloo.

Warm Up

I'm not sure we ever got out of the 30s yesterday with a brisk wind so it was as cold as ever.  Stove had been struggling for days, but try as he might, the house never got warm enough for me to take off my outdoor jacket indoors.  Well, enough of that!  I was done being frugal with the firewood and just plain tired of being cold.  Feeling like a kid blowing her allowance, I brought more wood to the porch and stuffed Stove full and kept him stuffed all day.  Finally there was that wonderful moment when you could feel the chill had gone and you were actually, truly warm.  Ahhh!  Linda is coming tonight for an early birthday dinner and I will do a repeat so she doesn't have to wear a parka at the table.  It isn't kind to have to say, "Welcome to my igloo."

 Missy doesn't miss a meal anymore, and wants to be petted before she begins to eat.  She is still so very little.  She is a dark tortoiseshell, mainly black with small patches of orange and white, a pretty girl.  The big girls seem to have become accustomed to her presence in the barn; at least they no longer snort or stampede.  They do keep a watchful eye on her when she's outside, though.  Goats seem to think that cats can transform into lions at any time.

Another storm is blowing down again from the north this week.  The dark clouds at sundown were a good indicator of what is to come.

Warm at last, it was a good day.

Hold It

As is her habit, after breakfast Bessie Anne asks to go outside.  I turned on the porch light for her and opened the bedroom door to the deck.  Bess took one look at all the snow, backed up, and said, "Um, no, I don't have to go that bad, thanks."  A short while later, she asked again, with the same results.  Another wait, and she started whining.  "Okay, girlie, but you have to make up your mind this time."  We tried the dining room door because she wouldn't have to step out directly into snow.  It was a no go.  It wasn't until after daybreak that she finally couldn't hold it anymore, but it was a quick trip out to piddle and right back in again.

The photo was taken in the same place, the first taken at sundown (not that the sun was visible) when I was going to put the girls to bed and this one as I was leaving for morning chores.  It really is picturesque with all that white icing.  The goats cope better with snow than rain, but they did wonder what I'd done to their world when they came out of the barn.

Coming back up toward the house, I heard a sound I didn't want to hear; running water.  Oh crum.  The pipe up to the faucet by the chicken pen couldn't hold it anymore and had burst when the ice inside melted.  I turned off all the water to the property and called my Go-To Guy.  He was on a job in P'ville and said I'd be next in line when he finished there.  In the meantime, I was dead in the water, or with no water, as the case may be.  True to his word, GT came in a couple of hours.  Thankfully, it was a quick, easy fix so he didn't have to spend any more time out in the snow than necessary.

Waldo has resurfaced.  He was having a time out in one of the bookcases.  Now Al has gone into hiding, maybe because of jealousy.

By nightfall, most of the snow had melted away except for patches on the ground in the shade.  It's still down in the 20s, even with the sunshine.

Remembering yesterday, Bessie didn't even ask to go outside this morning.  She said she could hold it.

Reprieve

Whew!  I received a call yesterday morning saying that Doctor was sick and needed to reschedule my afternoon appointment.  Was that okay?  Oh, you bet!

While down in the barn, there were flurries of what, for lack of a better term, I call "popcorn."  Not hail, not snowflakes, but tiny, very light pellets of white ice that bounce when they hit the ground like popcorn.  It lasted only a few minutes and was over by the time the girls went outside, but it was a portent of what was to come.

I'd planned to take care of a few chores as long as I had to go down to town.  Glad as I was not to have to make the big trip, it seemed prudent to go up to the grocery store and stock up on a few things while the roads were still dry.  I got Stove going good before leaving so I didn't come home to cat- and pupsicles.  Just after unloading the truck at home, there was another dusting of "popcorn," and not long after that it began to snow in earnest, right about the time I would have been on the road to Cameron Park.  As I've said to friends, sitting in my living room when it's snowing is like being in a real-life snow globe because one end of the room is all windows and, technically being on the second floor, you can't see the snow hitting the ground.  The view is simply swirling snowflakes, and it's lovely. 

It had stopped by the girls' bedtime.  Cam called and asked me to phone her when I got back from the barn.  My caring friend wanted to make sure I hadn't slipped and fallen on the icy path.  Knowing she also had a hill to climb when doing her barn chores, I asked her to do the same for me.  We both made it back to our houses safely.  I'm sure her animals, like mine, didn't hesitate to go to their rooms last night.

Twenty degrees this morning.  Bess asked to go outside, took one look at the four inches of snow, and changed her mind.  She's up on the bed behind me now.  I don't blame her.  It will look much better in the daylight.  Ralph is warming his little pink toes on my lap and Celeste is going up and down the hall crooning to Al, the 'Gator.  All's right in my world.

More Of The Same

Yesterday being a day between engagements, I did what I always do...a whole lot of nothing.  Water in the goats' trough was frozen over.  It's a good thing I'm in the habit of topping it off on my way back to the house at sundown, because the hose was also frozen and no water came from the pipe in the morning.  All the critters, wild and domestic, were more than ready for breakfast.  I think it helps them stay warm, or at least warmer, in cold weather.

Stove also demanded to be fed, so more wood was brought to the porch.  I'm keeping an eye on the woodpile; it's got to last through the winter.  Beau stopped by the other day to discuss cutting up the fallen oak down by the road; we'd split the wood fifty-fifty.  We talked about it before and I'd agreed.  That was only a year ago (one wouldn't want to rush into anything).

Waldo has gone missing again.  He's not in any of the usual hiding places and one or the other of the cats may have taken him downstairs, where I rarely go anymore.  He'd better show up pretty soon, because Celeste is transferring her affection to Al, the 'Gator.  Al is another of those knitted finger puppets like the piglets scattered throughout the house.  From his condition, the little green alligator has obviously been around for awhile, but I don't remember getting him and have no idea where he's been.  Ralph is indiscriminate and will play with any toy he comes across.  Celeste fixates on one specific favorite at a time, and this time it's Al.

Snow is predicted down to 2,000 feet this morning; I'm at about 25,00 feet.  I'm hoping it holds off because I've got to go to Cameron Park this afternoon.  We're promised just a dusting here, but I'm not looking forward to driving an icy Bucks Bar.

Excellent

I can't call it a heat wave, but it's up to 25 this morning.  What we need in California is rain; what we're getting is the Arctic Express.  Ah well, at least the days are sunny.

Tessie met me at the gate yesterday and did her best to apologize, making little whickering noises all the way to the barn.  She swore she would never do that again.  Bet me.  I'm sure she meant it when she said it, but goats seem to suffer short-term memory loss and I know darned well we will have this discussion again sometime.

I had the best day with Tinka.  For the second time in a week, I was chauffeured down to Martell.  I could get used to this as I can look at the scenery instead of the road.  We went to an Italian restaurant for a very good lunch.  Our waiter (I guess they're called servers now) put on an extra mile or two because of us; we kept talking instead of reading the menu and he had to keep coming back.  Thankfully, he was patient.  It doesn't take much to get us laughing, but the one thing that got us giggling the most was when I was telling Tinka about my fondness for old cemeteries, and that my niece had taught me about grave robbing.  Oops!  I had meant to say grave rubbing, a way to get an impression of a headstone without damage.  Honestly, I've never robbed a grave in my life.  We got a good laugh out of it.  The day just flew by, and we made plans to get together again next month when Kit comes up.  Goody!

Bedtime for the girls was a breeze last night.  Tessie might not hold the thought for long, but she sure wasn't going to get left out in the cold again so soon.

As so many of late, it was an excellent day.

Brrrr!

It is a brisk 22 degrees this morning.  Bess certainly didn't dawdle when she went out in the dark to piddle and she's back on the bed, curled up like a doughnut.  I don't blame her.  My little space heater is doing its best, but the warm air isn't reaching as far as my fingers.  Brrrr!

I had so looked forward to seeing Dave and his buddies yesterday, but the more I thought about it, the more I worried about them all on motorcycles and finally called my son and told him it really wasn't a good idea to come up to the foothills.  They are all experienced riders and wear leathers in cold weather, but there were reports of snow in Pleasant Valley and there isn't much even a car can do if there's black ice on the road.  What was meant to be a nice outing would sure get a crimp if there was a wipe-out.  As disappointing as it was for me, I'd rather have the guys safe.

As late as 11 a.m., I was still crunching through ice in the pasture, and the sun had been out for hours.  It just never warmed up all day.  Stove was on duty and tried his best.  My big job for the day was feeding him.

Bedtime for the goats was a disaster thanks to that darned Tessie.  Inga and Sheila went in without a problem.  The neighbor's big dogs were at the fence line, barking with their deep, loud voices, and Tess got spooked.  Even after the dogs went back to their house, probably to get warm, Tess wouldn't come in.  I coaxed and wheedled, I stood and sat, I opened and closed the door, and I tried to catch her collar.  Nothing worked.  The sun went down and I was freezing.  As cold as it was, after spending over half an hour with her, I finally had to leave her out.  I left the play yard gate open for Tessie, hoping she had enough sense to at least get under shelter.  I'd like to think she'll learn a lesson.  Yeah, good luck with that.

My heart is warm at the thought of meeting Tinka for lunch today.

Off To The Races

Daybreak was sunny and bright yesterday, but before I walked out the door, the sky darkened and a cold, cold wind kicked up.  Missy was waiting in her stall and rubbed against my hand when I put food in her dish.  Then she decided it would be a good idea to come with me to bring the goats out.  Imagining the panic and chaos that would cause, I had to tell her to, "Go to your room!"  Although the chance of rain was slim, I left the door to the big room open so the girls could get inside where they'd at least be out of the wind.

I was loading a second wagon of wood to bring to the porch when Clay rode up the driveway.  Rode up!  Believe me, it was not motorcycle weather.  He said it had been a nice morning down in the valley when he left and he hadn't hit the cold until he got to Plymouth, where it was too late to turn back.  I was so glad that I'd lit Stove before chores so Clay could thaw out indoors.

There were so many wrecks during the Daytona 500, they should have called it "Wait for The Big One" Talladega.  Jimmy Johnson (Clay's driver) got taken out early and Clint Bowyer (my guy) finished a lap down.  Sigh.  At least the NASCAR season has begun.

I had put dinner in the oven, timed to come out when the race was over.  As much as I didn't want to rush him, I really wanted Clay to get on the road before dark.  I sure didn't envy that icy ride home.  Sure enough, not thirty minutes after he left it started pounding hail.  I hoped he'd missed it, but he messaged me later that he'd ridden right into it.  Aaargh.  I got a good pelting from a second burst when I put the girls to bed.

It was grand to spend a day with my Kid.  We never seem to run out of topics for conversation and he is just plain good company.  Time is such a gift, never to be taken for granted.

It's down in the 20s this morning.  There is still a coating of yesterday's unmelted hail on the deck, frozen hard enough that Bessie didn't even leave paw prints when she went out for her constitutional.  I was to meet Dave and members of Freed Spirits today for lunch.  The plan was that they would ride their motorcycles up to Pleasant Valley.  As disappointing as it will be, with this weather I don't think that's going to happen. 

Off Kilter

Ralph's timing is definitely off kilter.  Just about the time I look at the clock beside my chair and think I've got to get up and get moving on some project or other, Ralph appears on my lap as if by magic.  "Ralph, honey, I've got to get up now."  "No, you don't," and he settles in.  Far be it from me to throw this sweet boy to the floor.  Oh well, few of my chores are that urgent anyway.

My own sense of timing isn't that great, either.  Almost every night between 9 and 10 I make the sensible decision to get up and go to bed.  That's just before I fall asleep in the chair.  Either stiff and/or cold, I wake up about midnight and then go to my room.  That's not too bad, but waking up about 4:30 in the morning (as I did today) is off kilter and sets me up for a daytime nap.  I hope I won't owe Clay an apology today while we're watching NASCAR.  Zzzz.

Red Letter Day

It wasn't February 14th, but my friend Harold made yesterday a Valentine celebration anyway.  He had invited me to lunch.  Sometimes we meet at the Fair Play Pub, but he wanted to go to a "real" restaurant so I drove down to meet him in Plymouth.  The drive from here and then down to Martell was beautiful through vineyards, rolling green hills with grazing cattle, and scattered fields of wild yellow mustard.  Being a traditionalist, Harold gifted me a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a tiny pot with a miniature red rose in bloom.  All that and a very good lunch/dinner, plus fun company made it a great Valentine's day.

Camille and I had rolls of barbed wire that we were never going to use and wanted to get rid of.  She made her fingers do the walking and found a buyer.  The guy came yesterday and not only bought everything we had, he paid a bonus!

Missy now wants to be petted before she eats, and seems to crave affection.  I was able to pick her up and determine that she is, indeed, a miss and not a mister.  I think she is very young.  I hope it doesn't ruin our budding relationship when I take her soon to be spayed.  One barn cat is one thing, a herd of barn kitties is quite another.

I have today to catch up on chores before my social whirl begins.  I'm booked solid for the next three days with people I love.  Yesterday wasn't the only red letter day on my calendar.

Flashback

Once upon a time not too long ago (my Kids aren't that old, but before Pete and Larry were born), two pre- and early teenage boys whose parents both worked lived across the street.  One day, there was a knock on the door and there was Mike.  "May I borrow a cup of sugar, please?"  "Of course."  A short while later, knock knock knock.  It was his younger brother.  "Could I please borrow two cups of flour?"  "Sure."  When there was another knock and a request for a couple of eggs, I had to ask, "What are you guys up to?"  It turned out they wanted to bake a cake and didn't have any of the ingredients.  (Okay, it was long, long ago because this was before boxed cake mixes; sorry, Kids.)

I had a flashback on this scene yesterday.  In Pete's goody bag, he'd brought a large bunch of asparagus.  There are so many things one can do with asparagus, but I fixated on a dish from my childhood, creamed asparagus on toast.  All vegetables were seasonal then and we anticipated when the next crops would come in.  Creamed asparagus was a staple in spring, especially on meatless Fridays.  Ohmigosh, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted it.  Just one problem:  I had no milk and I had no bread and it's darned hard to make cream sauce and toast without them.  Drat!  Nothing for it but a trip to town.  It's a good indication of my craving because I got in the truck and made the trek for a cup of milk and two slices of bread.

Back in the day (and I have no reason why), the theory seemed to be that green vegetables should be cooked until grey and mushy, in fact all vegetables were overcooked.  Last night, I lightly steamed the asparagus before putting it into the bechamel and, truly, it was better than my mother's recipe.  I darned near foundered!  Ahh, satisfaction.

A Mystery

"Birds of a feather flock together," so the saying goes and it's true for the most part.  Once in awhile I'll see a crow or two riding the thermals with the vultures, but for the most part all the species keep themselves to themselves.  I get used to a particular group behaving in what becomes a characteristic way.  For instance, turkeys are pedestrians.  They are certainly capable of flight, but prefer to walk everywhere.  Woodpeckers peck, dinky birds hop and scurry, hawks soar; it's just what they do.

I see vultures all the time, either circling in the air (in flight, that's called a kettle) or sunning themselves on posts, poles, or in the trees (a group is called a committee).  That's what they do.  Yesterday, all the vultures in the photo, 16 of them, were on the ground just inside the goat pen.  Not only that, they didn't take flight when I walked closer and closer.  Believe me, that is unusual for these huge, elegant birds.  Also, when they did take off, the whole flock flew together to the dead tree over the barn.  Again, they stayed put as I came forward.  Normally they disperse to other areas if they've gathered in the morning when I approach.  I'd love to know what caused them to behave in such a different, unexpected way.  Ah, the mysteries of life sure keep it interesting.

Cold Feet

I don't know if Ralph is becoming more affectionate, needy, or just has cold feet.  I do know that every morning lately, including today, Ralph sits on my lap while I try to work around him at the computer.  I wear a thick fleece robe and it seems to feel good to his toes.  On chilly days when I'm in my chair, I use that oh-so-soft afghan Deb made.  Celeste used to claim the prime lap spot, leaving Ralph to fit in wherever he could.  Now Ralph pushes her off, period.  Last night he crawled into the cat cave three times.  Down in the low 30s, I wasn't going to complain about that warm, soft,  snuggley companion under the covers.  There's just one small problem:  Ralph's purr mechanism is faulty.  He doesn't purr, he snorks.  No, that's not a typo, that's the sound he makes.  Oh well.  Come summer, I expect this all will change so I'm just enjoying it right now.

Lest anyone think Celeste is lacking attention, let me say that I go nowhere in the house without Celeste being right there.  (She's the cat I tripped over.)  We go down the hall together, into the kitchen together, and especially into the bathroom together.  Animals learn from the git-go that bathrooms are the best place ever to get petted when their Person sits down, and Celeste never misses that opportunity.

I'm glad I put that cat bed down in the barn for Li'l Miss on these cold days and nights.  She doesn't miss a meal now, breakfast or dinner, and is hovering over her bowl when I come in.  Feeding Missy first seems to be working out.  Either that, or the girls are becoming accustomed to her presence.  At any rate, they aren't so panicked anymore.

Sunny or not, Stove is keeping busy these days.  I don't want cold feet, either.

Something In The Air

It is technically still winter, but the warm weather of late has tricked the wildlife into thinking it's spring and love is in the air.  The tom turkeys in the breakfast club are dressed to impress and they fluff up and strut their stuff in front of the hens, who, as always, pointedly ignore the parade.  A pair of sparrows were duking it out down in the goat pen, undoubtedly for the affection of a female.  Even the girls were feeling feisty.

Nature is her usual capricious self.  The morning was cold and windy, but sunny.  After chores, lighting Stove seemed a good idea before the chill settled in the house, and I had a sit-down while waiting for the fire to catch.  I wasn't the only one thinking that because the smell of wood smoke wafted by outside.  Suddenly there was a change and hail was in the air!  It didn't last long, but was a pointed reminder that it truly is still winter.  The sun came out again and Bess and I went down to the feed store for gas and bird seed (and two cookies).  Unfortunately, I did not unload the bird seed as soon as we got home, because I had barely brought another wagon load of wood to the porch when it began to rain.  That didn't last long either.  Nature was just showing off the tricks in her repertoire.

Once again, Celeste wandered the hall last night, crooning to Waldo.  It must be the equivalent of baby-talk, because the voice she uses is reserved just for Waldo.  It's really rather touching.

It's down in the 30s again this morning.

Good Evening

As so often happens after a spate of company, I took a day off yesterday.  Yes, there was a twinge of guilt when I passed the now-open door to The Hole, not strong enough to make me go in and work some more, however.  I hadn't watched any of the Olympics, but got hooked while flipping channels, and there went the day.  Oh well.

This was the evening sky on the way down to put the girls (including Missy) to bed.  I make no apologies for my fascination with the sky.  Sometimes it's just too beautiful not to share.

About the time you think it couldn't get any better, it does.  In the short time it took to tuck the girls in, sundown had burst into flame.  Bess Anne, with her unruly hairdo, also turned to look on the way back to the house.

Sunset wasn't the only thing that improved in my life.  Having the Kids here this weekend was a gift, and then Clay sent a text that he was coming up to watch the Daytona 500 (the opening of NASCAR season) with me next Sunday, and then Dave called in the evening and invited me to meet him and his biker buddies at Bones on the 19th.  My cup overfloweth.

Bonanza!

Waldo had been missing for several days.  Not in the wastebasket, not in the bathroom towel cubby, not anywhere to be seen, so the next thing to do was a sweep under the entry hall chest.  Ta da!  I hit the mother lode of tiny toys, including Waldo.  I don't like to think that Ralph intentionally hid Celeste's favorite pink piglet, however....  He certainly was intent on picking his next victim from the trove I'd recovered.

I had a bonanza day of Kids.  Not only did Deb and Craig come up (bringing KFC!, my absolute favorite fast food, for lunch), Pete also came by.  Pete knows how I hate to go shopping, and he brings fresh fruit and vegetables when he visits; such a treat.  Fried chicken for lunch, melon and berries for dinner, and a day with my Kids; I was in seventh heaven.

The impetus for going into The Black Hole was a search for beading materials.  There was a time when I bedecked just about anything that didn't move and made tons of jewelry of all sorts.  As is my wont, if a little of something is good, a lot of something is better.  I had enough beads and findings, pattern books and magazines to open a shop of my own, all stored in The Hole.  Deb had found a beaded icicle ornament pattern that piqued her interest in the craft and, since I no longer participate, I had offered her all my supplies.

Pete and Craig are both "gamers" (video games), so had plenty to talk about while Deb and I rooted out the materials.  There are probably more still buried, but she ended up with a truckload of boxes, bins, and bags to start with.  It's such a pleasure to turn over those reins to the next generation.  I have become the beader emeritus and will be available for consultation.

Since the Kids didn't have to rush off, we had time to sit and talk all afternoon, such a pleasure.  The fellas had done me the kindness of flipping my mattress, something I couldn't do on my own.  Then, just before leaving, Craig noticed a branch was rubbing on the power lines to the house.  Nothing would do but get the pole saw and cut it off right then and there.  Speaking the truth is not bragging, so I say honestly that I've got some darned good Kids.

In every way, it was a good day.

Ladies' Day

Truly, The Black Hole is like an archeological site.  It's more like a black hole in space than the Black Hole of Calcutta because stuff gets sucked in there and lost.  Yesterday I found a handful of photos from years ago, back when the goats were kids and Sheila and Tessie weren't even born, back when rolls of film had to be developed!  Of course I stopped to go through those until the Boss reminded me of why I was in there in the first place.  "Yes, ma'am."  I found manuals for DOS, a now defunct computer operating system.  They'll go to the landfill the next time I go to the dump.  (I know there's a more refined term for the dump, but I'm old school.)  I'm nowhere near done, but have pretty much uncovered what I went in there for in the first place.  There had to be a reason, you know, because I was just as happy passing that closed door as I had for years.  Not today because Deb and Craig are coming up(!!), but soon I'll go back in if for no other reason than to find more buried treasure.

Camille has been working like a dog (not my dog, but some hard-working dog) for weeks at her other property and decided to knock off early yesterday and come by in the afternoon.  Not only was I glad to see her and Honey, but she brought smoked salmon and crackers to share!  Arden had made prior arrangements t visit, and she brought pistachio hummus and beet crackers (who knew?).  It was a veritable feast of treats and we munched, crunched, and talked while sitting on the front porch on a lovely warm day.  It was an unplanned Ladies' Day, sometimes the best kind.  Honey and Bess went on walks together, reminding us of a canine Mutt and Jeff, and then came back to snooze at our feet.  What a great way to end the day.

Who's The Boss?

I am made fully aware on a daily basis that the thought I am in charge here is a complete illusion.  The fact is I live to serve and hold the title of majordomo, not boss.  I'm really lucky; if it weren't for Bessie Anne's watchful eye, I could go off the rails and end up like Musk's Tesla, floating aimlessly through the days.  She makes sure I don't become a sedentary creature by getting me up from my chair umpteen times a day.  "I need to go out now."  "I need to come in now."  "Now!"  To keep it interesting, she chooses a different door each time.  Sometimes she goes out one door and wants back in another.  In nice weather, Bess suggests a walkabout outdoors if she thinks I need more exercise.

She is a benevolent despot who only speaks harshly if I'm a little slow in routine, especially in the morning with her three treats.  "Hey, a little service here!  Pay attention!"  Her internal clock is more dependable than Big Ben.  Morning and night, she tells me when it's time to tend the goats and I'd best jump to.  She begins with a gentle reminder, her voice rising in pitch and volume if I dawdle.  If it's raining, once she's got me headed in the right direction, she may decide to lie back down instead of accompanying me.  There are times I wish she would take over chores instead of telling me what to do.

I made a brief foray into The Black Hole yesterday and Bessie Anne came in to supervise.  She was a little peeved when the phone rang (saved by the bell) and I shut the door again.  As I told her, a thing will either get done...or it won't.  I have a feeling the Boss will make sure it does.

The Full Monty

When the Kids were little and then into their teens, we (me included) would line up four on the couch and one on the floor to get either a neck and shoulder rub or a hair brushing (right up there with massage).  The rule was that you got the treatment for as long as you gave, the incentive to take your time.  Then the recipient would move to the end of the couch and the next one would take his/her place.  As a result, all my Kids give a great back rub.

For two years, the Kids have given me very generous gift certificates for massages, which, to me, are the very height of luxury.  Since masseuses (now the term is massage therapist) vary in capability, I made the first appointment for just a half hour (back and shoulders only) as a trial run.  This gal in P'ville is great.  The problem has been that (1) I don't like to go to town and (2) when I do go to town I try to do as many errands as possible on one run, and I sure don't want to do errands after a massage.  I've been doling out the first certificate in half-hour segments every now and then.  When I realized I hadn't even used up the one from two years ago, I called and made an appointment for yesterday for a whole hour and went for the full Monty:  back and shoulders, arms, legs, hands, and feet.  When Brandie was finished, I was a pool of pudding, every muscle relaxed.  If someone had yelled "Fire!" I'd have been toast.  I still had to drive home in that condition and wished for teleportation.  "Beam me up, Scotty."

Tessie did, indeed, come up for another head rub last evening.  Maybe that need to be touched is contagious.

Needless to say, it was a good day.

Not Done Yet

It seems that "firsts" were not done yet.  I can hardly walk anywhere in the pen without Sheila rubbing her head against me, pushing on my side, and generally making a pest of herself.  Inga likes a butt rub before leaving the stand.  Tessie, since she was little, has been standoffish and somewhat aloof.  When done eating, all she has wanted was to get down off the stand and out of the barn without any folderol, thank you very much.  She's never seemed to want or need affection.  I've been grateful that she wasn't a head-rubber because of that twelve-inch unicorn horn.  Thus it was a surprise and a definite first when Tess walked up to me yesterday and very gently (thank you!) rubbed her head against my side.  She seemed to be very conscious of her horn and was careful that it didn't bump (or gore) me.  I once had a cat, Tagalong-Toolu, who, when she was younger, was so elusive that friends who had never seen her denied we even had a cat.  When she was an old girl, her personality changed and she began to stick to the Kids like a limpet, even sitting on their head if refused a lap.  I wonder if something similar has happened to Tessie.  Last evening I was sitting and waiting for Tess to make up her mind to come in when she stepped up to me and  "asked" me to pet her head.  Go figure.

I'm not done yet with the King book.  That's so unlike me, but I was prodded by guilt to get a longstanding chore done yesterday.  It is very satisfying to have it off the list, but I'd rather have been reading.

That Was A First

While trying to avoid being trampled in the morning turkey stampede, I glanced down the slope of what I had hoped would become an orchard and saw the first daffodils of the year.  Ta da!  Over time, I'll bet I've planted and replaced twenty fruit trees of many varieties.  Ground squirrels would let the trees have maybe one year to bear and then eat the roots.  That slope is now a sad graveyard of trees.  Only the preexisting almond tree made it.

In the barn, instead of hiding in her room, Missy was waiting for me in the hall and greeted me with a tiny meow.  She led the way to her door, waited while I served her breakfast and, for the first time, let me pet her just a little.  I didn't want to push my luck.  I would, however, like to know if Missy is a Mister.

Inga had seen the cat and I anticipated another of those mornings when Inga would panic and head out into the pasture.  She gave one snort and then went out and directly into the feeding room.  That was a hopeful first.

It was a beautiful bluebird day and Bess suggested I come outside with her in the early afternoon.  I'd bought a new Stephen King novel some time back, "Sleep Doctor," sequel to "The Shining" (the first Stephen King book I ever read).  A lifelong bibliophile, I haven't done much reading lately, but it seemed a good day to take a book and sit on the porch for a bit and keep Bessie Anne company, thinking to read only a chapter or two.  That was my first mistake.  It wasn't until the goats' bedtime that I was forced to put the book down.  Not for the first time, I'd shot the day down the tubes while turning pages.

Missy has definitely gotten with the program.  Walking down with the girls at sundown, I saw the cat racing across the pasture to the barn.  Mealtime is mealtime, after all.

Sigh

And then depression set in.  The Patriots lost the Super Bowl, but it was a really good game, well worth the twenty cents it cost me.  I already paid Camille.  As for the boys, "I'd rather owe it to you
than cheat you out of it."  (Don't think for a minute they'll let me forget.)  It would have been worse if Deb and Craig hadn't sided with the Patriots.

I actually got quite a lot done yesterday before Cam and Honey arrived, including prep work for the hot dogs.  Camille brought even more condiments, including an avocado.  Grateful for the pause and rewind buttons, I grilled the wieners and buns and we loaded up.  I must say that a hot dog with avocado and sriracha is excellent!  Cam put everything but the kitchen sink on hers.  We ate in the living room in front of two very disappointed pups.  They kept hoping we'd share.

No matter how exciting a game is, livestock comes first.  I hit the pause button again and went down to put the girls to bed and Camille went home to tend her animals.  Normally I would zip through commercials (a huge benefit of pausing a program) when we got back, but Super Bowl ads are some of the best.  Budweiser came through as they always do, but we weren't terribly impressed by most of the others.  Unfortunately, the game was over before we got to the end, and I was getting gloating texts from the guys so we knew the Eagles had won before we heard the final whistle.  I handed over my nickel.  Sigh.

Win or lose, it was a good day.

Guess where Waldo was this morning.  In my slipper.  That was a unique sensation in the dark.

Heating Up

What's up with this weather?  Here it is February and it's as close to 70 without hitting the mark as it can get.  No jacket necessary, and I was sweating in the sunshine on the deck as I dismantled the stuffed-up vacuum cleaner yesterday.  I have the feeling that some appliances have built-in obsolescence these days.  I mean, come on, I inherited my mother's well-used Electrolux canister vacuum and it  was still going strong when I decided I wanted a bagless upright.  Silly me.

Camille is coming over today to watch the Super Bowl.  We have bets on opposing teams, but I don't think we'll come to blows.  She had to go into town anyhow, so I assigned her to get hot dogs and buns and save me a trip to the store.  She stopped by in the afternoon and we roasted sitting out on the front porch.  Goofy weather.  Question of the day:  why is it that bun bakers and hot dog people can't get together and match up the two so there aren't either buns or wieners left without partners?  Oh well.  I'll spend some time prepping condiments today for the hot dogs, perfect game day fare.

May the better team (Patriots) win.

Competition

At last Deb and Craig put down their bets and, best of all, they're with me for the Patriots!  I was feeling a little lonely up there on the board all by myself.  Cam had jumped into the pool with the Eagles.  That's okay, I'll be happy to take her nickel, too.  I can imagine there will be a whole lot of texting going on on Sunday, some of it in capital letters, the text equivalent of shouting.  (My family is nothing if not competitive.)

So far, so good with It.  I found no new excavations yesterday, so it seems my plan is working.  There were a number of squooshed  black-and-whites in the road yesterday, so I know skunks are out and about.  I don't wish It any harm, but I do want him to move on.  Probably thirty years ago, I heard a song on the radio that cracked me up.  It's the only song I've ever called in to a station to request, just to hear it again.  "Dead Skunk In The Middle Of The Road" by Loudon Wainright III (1972) was the perfect theme song for someone like myself who would sometimes travel four hundred miles a day as a consultant at the time.  I could tell the seasons of the year by which critters (squirrels, skunks, raccoons, etc.) had their minds elsewhere when they tried to cross the country roads I drove.  Skunks can't compete against cars. (I would not recommend the YouTube video for the squeamish, but the words are as funny as ever.)  It's amazing how fast and far skunk scent will travel, and how nauseatingly pungent it is.

I had to go into town (again!) for an ultrasound of a suspicious shadow the oncologist felt warranted a closer look.  A preliminary reading showed nothing cancerous.  This going back and forth is wearing.

It took Tessie for-ev-er to go into her room last evening.  She tries my patience, but there's no hurrying the process.  She seems to read my mind, as she finally relents about the time I think, "Okay, lady, you can just stay outside tonight.  I guarantee you won't like it.  It's your choice."  It was almost dark when Bess and I got back to the house.  It was a long day.

I Am Not!

Years ago, for a certain class I was required to ask several people, friends and family, to give three words they felt described me.  To my surprise, "stubborn" showed up on every list.  I could respond before handing in the paper and wrote, "I am not stubborn, and I will fight to the death to prove it."

I will admit to a degree of determination, and I am determined that It will not take up residence under the shed.  It found the unsavory stuff filling his/her prior holes, moved a foot or so over and started another one.  No, no, no...not gonna happen.  The cats had obliged with more product and I filled in the new one.  I can do this for as long as it takes.  I am not stubborn, but I am motivated.

It was old home week at the grocery store.  I rarely see anyone I know, but then, I don't know that many people.  Yesterday I ran into (not literally) Linda in the parking lot, and then Earle, who was standing in front of the milk cooler.   Earle was my long-time milk customer, and he suggested I might go back to work to supply him with the good stuff.  I declined.  I had convinced myself that my almost-gone black eye was hardly noticeable, but given Earle's reaction, I was wrong.

By sundown, all the Kids but Deb had checked in with their bets for the Super Bowl.  (Larry abstained, party pooper.)  I alone have put my nickel on the New England Patriots.  If those boys come through for me, I could make off with as much as twenty cents!  If the Philadelphia Eagles win, I'll have to break open one of my piggy banks to pay my debts.  Fingers crossed.

We'll See

Kathy V., another goat lady, and I are early risers, early being classified as around 4:30 a.m. (when the sane world is still asleep), and we are both on the computer while having our coffee.  Kathy V. is a self-admitted eclipse addict, and yesterday asked if I had seen the Super-Blue-Blood moon.  She had gotten up at 3:30 so as not to miss it.  I had not, but of course went out to search the still-dark sky.  That red moon sinking in the west was pretty creepy.

Making the switch to feeding Missy first seemed to work.  Either that, or Inga was hungry from missing breakfast the day before and decided to ignore the cat.  With all the green grass and supplemental alfalfa, the girls wouldn't starve if they missed a meal.  I am hoping that the critters will reach detente in time.  We'll see.

The soil in this area is mainly DCG (decomposed granite), like sand on top and cement below.  I inspected the mounds dug up by It, but couldn't find any telltale footprints.  I have a sneaking suspicion that It wears a black-and-white striped coat.  It's the time of year for skunks to mate and make burrows to have babies.  That, I do not need.  As unappealing as it is, I emptied the cats' litter box into the holes by the shed, filled them in with the loose dirt, and tamped it all down firmly.  I hope It takes the hint and moves on.  We'll see.