Self-Indulgence

All was going well yesterday down at Cam's until I got to her barn and realized I'd forgotten the eight carrots for the donkeys.  Sorry, guys, but I'm not driving back up to the house for them.  They dove into their bowl of pellets, probably thinking I'd put the carrots on the bottom and they were looking for the prize.  Boy, I'll bet my name is on their list now.  Oh well.

It's always a toss-up when I need groceries:  spend time and gas and go into town, or pay higher prices and go up to Holiday.  Hmmm.  Yesterday I opted for Holiday.  I wanted to lay in some supplies so I can make a few meals for Camille when she gets home.  I doubt she's going to feel like cooking.  I succumbed to temptation while going through the aisles.  (I've got to do a better job of organizing my grocery list so I don't do so much backtracking.  I was going back and forth like a pinball machine.)   I rarely buy ice cream, but the mocha almond fudge called my name as I went by and I weakened.  It was a hot day and I could hardly wait to get home.  Mocha almond fudge ice cream with a splash of Kahlua is pure decadence.  Need I say it?  That was dinner last night.

I'm going to feel like a lady of leisure today with only my animals to tend.  It's my intention to do a lot of nothing.  I've had practice and am pretty good at that.

Green Eyes

The Green-eyed Monster is alive and well in the animal world.  Cam's dogs are each sure the others are getting more attention.  "Me!  Me first!"  "She got petted more than me!"  Honey is a bit more laid back than the youngsters, and she waits her turn.

It is nothing like the Inquisition I get when I come home.  Bessie Anne gives me a thorough vacuuming to find out just who I'd been with, dogs and donkeys alike.  Cam's cats are aloof and the chickens are not pettable, even were I inclined to chase and catch.  Fortunately, Bess is susceptible to a bribe and that saves me from getting the cold shoulder after her inspection.  Give the girl a treat and all is forgiven.

Today is my last morning on duty as Cam has more volunteers lined up for the weekend.  I'm going to stick with the early morning barn time here.  It's actually been cool while feeding the girls, and I might get some mowing done before it gets hot.  The dadratted star thistle has started to put out its spiky seed thingies, and is as high as my knees now.  I always get thrown for a loop by the weather.  It's either raining or too cold, and then the heat comes blasting in.  Mowing on John D. isn't so much fun so it's easy to put off that chore, but not very productive.

Beau stopped by for an hour or so yesterday just to chat.  He is now Mister Mom for his family and I think he was just craving some adult company.  I remember those days and can sympathize.

Smooth(er) Sailing

It all went a lot smoother yesterday as all the critters and I began to settle into the routine.  Honey, Sammi, and Bud Man were happy to see me, but were not frantic as they'd been the day before.  I praised them highly for not barking during the night.  It was the donkeys, who have the run of the property, who had had a snit fit.  They'd knocked over a trash barrel and a wrought iron chair up by the house, and had thrown things around down at the barn.  Having gotten that out of their system, they seemed to take my presence for granted and there was none of the pushing and shoving of the day before.  I was able to cut almost fifteen minutes off chore time and could give Camille a good report when she called (ain't cellphones grand?) when I got home.

Cam called again when she was out of recovery and gave me a good report of her own.  Yay!

Last night was the night of the Strawberry Moon, June's full moon.  I think there are as many names for the moon as there are months.  I know that when I turned out the last light as I crawled into bed, it was as bright outside as if the porch lights were on.

It was a good day.

Ay Ay Ay

I don't know how she does it.  Admittedly, I had to keep checking the cheat sheet to be sure I was doing everything in the right order, but it took nearly forty-five minutes to get all of my charges fed, watered, and let out those who were permitted to go out.  Finished with the house pets (two cats, three dogs), I headed to the barn but had to go back up to the house because I'd forgotten the eight (8) baby carrots for the donkeys.  That's okay, the dogs were delighted to have a visitor a second time.  We did have a discussion regarding barking all night, and I reassured them that they'd not been orphaned.

Eight little carrots in hand, I got the donkeys fed.  Shadow, the mini, and Cricket, the standard, took their job as supervisors seriously, consequently getting in my way at every turn.  The flock of chickens that had been locked in the barn were loudly yelling to be freed, and came tumbling out when I opened up their stall.

Running over the list in my mind:  everybody fed and watered, check; gates and doors opened or shut as directed, check.  One can hope.

I was really glad I'd started the day early and had taken care of my girls first.  I conferred with my nighttime counterpoint.  She lives directly across the road from Cam and had also been aware of all the barking.  I mentioned the neighbor who might be complaining.  She suggested an explanatory phone call might be a preemptive strike and I agreed.  I tried, but found the number was no longer in service, so she may have moved and it could be a nonissue.  Incidentally, the dogs seemed to have resigned themselves to their fate and were quiet all night, or maybe they were just exhausted from the night before.

I hope the rest of this day goes better than it started.  My computer server is having problems of its own, and I was unable to retrieve any emails.  The rest of the system seemed to function, so I started writing this piece.  Then the power blipped and threw me into darkness.  Ay ay ay!

In Place

Good morning to you!
Good morning to you!
We're all in our places with bright shiny faces,
For this is the way to start a new day.

My mother was born in 1904 in Averyville, Illinois (since subsumed into Peoria).  After high school, Mother attended Normal School, a college of sorts where students were specifically trained to be teachers.  After graduation, her first job was to teach all grades in a one-room school in a very rural area where she boarded with a student's family.  Bus service was nonexistent, so teacher and students walked to school whatever the weather.  One of her favorite tales was a time after a bad storm as she walked past the local cemetery on a hill and the rain had washed away dirt and exposed the ends of coffins; it scared the bejeezus out of her.

I still have a small notebook in which she entered all the games the children played and the rules, little ditties like the one above (which she also taught to me), and other pertinent information.  Given today's curricula, it is a little gem of history.

Trying to get into practice, I went down to the barn an hour earlier than usual yesterday morning.  Tessie and Inga had survived the night in their strange rooms, but I kept the same feeding order before letting them out.  They were confused, but it went well overall.

Given an extra hour before the heat of the day and the fact that I was not yet on Cam duty, I actually got some necessary chores done here.  At sundown, putting the girls to bed was a breeze.  Goats might have a short attention span, but fairly long memories.  Tess and Inga didn't want to have a repeat of the night before so went willingly and quickly into their assigned places (hence the little song).

There is a neighbor who has had issues with Camille in the past.  She knows Cam and I are friends, so she calls me with her complaints (??).  I expect a call today, as all three of Camille's dogs barked throughout the night (they're still barking this morning, and it's not yet 5 a.m.).  Honey, Sammi, and Bud Man are not used to being left alone overnight and were/are voicing their displeasure.  There's nothing I can do about it, but I know I'll hear about it.

Plan B

Plan A:  go down to Camille's, get instructions, come back and feed and let the girls out.  I should have known better.  If my animals were ever to find out how pampered Cam's critters are, there would be a palace revolt and a mass exodus down the road to the promised land.  Let's just say it took a lot longer than I'd planned and by the time I got home, the barn was a bake oven.  I apologized to the girls and accepted my punishment in the heat.

Plan B:  let the my girls out early, early, and then go on to the others.

Even though I really didn't have a choice on pay-the-bills day, it was a good afternoon to sit at the computer with the window A/C doing its best and take care of that onerous task.  If I was going to sit and sweat, it was better to be actually doing something productive, as well as keep me out of debtor's prison.

I have no idea what, but something had put the wind up the girls' backs last evening.  All three were racing around the pen and I had to dodge Sheila a couple of times.  She actually had the temerity to face me down in a stand off, her nostrils flared and such a look in her eyes.  "Don't you dare.  Don't even think it!"  Getting them into the barn was not so easy.  Sheila bulled her way in first, as usual.  I put down her snack and shut her door.  I'd left Inga's stall open with her bowl ready on the ground because she's normally the second one in.  That was a mistake.  Tossing her head with that saber horn, Tessie forced her way past and into Inga's room, and she wasn't about to leave.  I'm not going to fight a goat in such close quarters, especially when she's got the only weapon.  "Okay, fine.  Inga will get your big room for the night, and see how you like it," and shut her in.  The problem with that Plan B was that Inga likes the security of "her" room.  She went into the barn willingly enough, but when she realized that I was going to leave her there, she panicked and started crying.  I felt terrible, but it was what it was for just one night.

Bessie Anne and I have spent too much time together.  I awoke in the middle of the night while having a frightening nightmare.  I was fighting my way back to sleep when Bess started yipping and huffing, having a nightmare of her own.  Thought transference?

Sunset last evening was awesome.  Unfortunately, those aren't clouds on the horizon, but smoke from wildfires from farther up north.  It's the season to be wary.

It's Here

Summer is here for real.  It landed yesterday with a thud and, as usual, it wiped me out.  I was supposed to join the annual Family Reunion down in Angels Camp, but if it was hot here, I knew it would be hotter there.  Much as I hated to miss all those dear faces, it seemed wisest to call and let my brother-in-law know I wasn't going to make it.

I took refuge in several long naps, as I do every summer when we've been abandoned by the delta breezes.  The ceiling fan tries, but it is no substitute for the real thing, just moving the hot air around and cooling nothing.  Thankfully, the cats find other places than my lap to sleep.  None of us want the added body heat.

I caught the last race at Ascot Racecourse in the morning.  Two-and-a half miles on a grass track!!  Those thoroughbreds must be bred for endurance.  International horse racing had been televised for five days during the Royal Ascot, but for some reason I'd not watched any.  Ohmigosh, the Brits outdo even the Kentucky Derby in style and festivities.  Men in formal attire and top hats and women in gorgeous dresses and hats of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  Queen Elizabeth II was evidently in attendance all five days.  I'll be watching for this event next year, for sure.

I'm going down to Camiille's for a training session this morning.  She has a fairly intricate feeding routine, so I'll make notes.  Cam will be having surgery next week and I'll have the morning duty with her animals and fowl for five days or so while she's gone.  She's lined up other volunteers for evening chores.

It's predicted to be even hotter today.  Aarrgh.  Yup, summer is here.

Boss vs. Bossy

For some time now, Sheila has been assuming the role of queen of the herd (small though that herd might be).  A queen's duties are to discipline, keep order, and also to protect.  Unfortunately, Sheila has let her position go to her head and is more of a despot and bully rather than a benevolent ruler.  She makes poor Inga's life miserable.  Inga is not allowed to be first anywhere, trekking up or down the path or at the alfalfa flakes.  It wouldn't be so bad if Sheila weren't so mean about it.  She bashes Inga hard for no good reason whenever the underdog gets near.  That's bad enough when they're out in the open, but it's awful when the two are down by the barn.  Sheila is less likely to take on Tessie, she of the unicorn horn, but still might get into a butting match with her now and then to prove a point.

I try to stay out of goat business, but lately things have been getting out of hand.  Sheila might be the bossy one, but has needed a reminder that I am still the boss around here.  It's in a goat's nature to want to be the leader on any trail and I have no problem being a follower and am perfectly willing to pull over to let them go past (my own version of Bucks Bar).  However, now if I start up the hill first Sheila bulls her way past without warning and has darned near knocked me over a couple of times.  She has always wanted to rub her head against me in the mornings, but lately she's been doing it with a vengeance and being way too rough.  That is not acceptable.  She won't take no for an answer, but she will back off if she gets a slap in the face.  That's not my favorite way to discipline, but sometimes needs must.  I don't intend to get cowed by a goat.

Glad Tidings

I've seen more doctors in the past two years than I had in the previous twenty.  GP, surgeon, radiologist, oncologist, and an army of technicians for the multitude of tests, tests, and more tests.  It seemed every time I turned around, there was another appointment with one doctor or two.  Over time, the frequency of visits began to slow down; every three months became every six months (yay!).  Yesterday I met with my surgeon, got a clean bill of health with no sign of cancer, and will only need to see him now on a yearly basis.  Color me happy!!

I had cut the time to get to town a bit short and yesterday it was me speeding through the hills (I didn't pass anybody).  I was forgiven for being six minutes late.  After receiving good news and no need to race home, the drive back was much more enjoyable.

Beau stopped by in the afternoon and brought along one of the nephews who now live with him.  Jeremy has done some work for Camille, liked getting paid, and was looking for another customer.  Cam had given him an A-Plus report.  It seems weed-whacking is his specialty and it's not like I couldn't use some help (make that HELP) here.  We agreed on a wage and a trial run, but I postponed a date until next week.  It's predicted to go triple digit this weekend and I don't want The Kid to fall over in a froth from heat prostration.  While not exactly cool, it's supposed to be better next week.  The weeds aren't going anywhere.

All in all, I'd say it was a better-than-good day.

Comparisons

One of the first things a first-time guest will say is, "How quiet it is here."  In comparison to life in the city, it is just that, but it really isn't quiet at all.  There are those rare occasions when it is absolutely silent, usually right around sundown, and then the quiet is noticeable.  Most of the time some bird or other is calling, yelling, screeching, cawing, chirping, and every rooster in the neighborhood is proclaiming his domain.  Yesterday a bluejay down in the barn made me jump when he told me loudly(!) to step away from the bucket so he could get his breakfast.  Even in the dark, owls whoo-whoo as they do flybys at night.

There are other sounds, as well.  Chainsaws and weed-whackers, tractors either mowing or spreading weed or mold killer in the vineyards, once in awhile a car passing by or a motorcycle revving up, or a semi-truck hitting the Jake brake going downhill clear over on E-16.  The kids up the road come blasting by on their dirt bikes, usually around 8 p.m. in the summer.  At least their parents know where they are.  Thankfully, police and/or ambulance sirens are rare.  A helicopter flying overhead is cause to look up. 

Dogs, big and small, sound off all over the hills at all times of the day or night.  Coyotes yip and yodel (haven't heard them so much lately).  Mares on the adjoining property announce their availability, and the stud answers.  Now and then, when the wind is right, I'll hear cattle on a far-away ranch mooing.  And, of course, Shaddup stands on daily lookout with his incessant yipping.  Shaddup!!

It's the time of year when the wineries bring in live bands for entertainment and we all get the benefit of music and singing.

All things are relative, but, no, it is not quiet here.

Love/Hate

Loathe as I am to go into town, I have to admit I (mostly) love the drive.  It is a constantly changing scene.  If I had a daily commute, I might not notice the differences, but since I try hard not to go more often than every two weeks they just jump out at me.  On my last trip, the brilliant yellow Scotch broom bushes were in flower.  Yesterday they had been replaced by patches of some wildflower that looks like bright magenta phlox (according to Google, it could be Dame's rocket).  Sheep along the way are getting their summer haircuts.  Cattle are dropping calves here, there, and everywhere.  Mares on the horse farms are getting the big belly and are about ready to foal.  A number of ranches have added alpacas to their herds; they seem to be the current livestock fad.  Remember when emus were the up and coming thing?  More and more deer are foraging closer to the road.  I saw three yesterday.

The rule about not passing over a double-yellow line seems to be a thing of the past, as almost every time I leave the house, some idiot whips around me (and I'm usually going 45-50 on our curvy, narrow roads), seemingly intent on self-destruction.  The prevalent thought up here is, "Well, that's an accident waiting to happen," and unfortunately, it does.  Either the speeder will hit a deer or lose it on a curve and end up down in a gully.  If there are even one or two cars behind me that seem anxious to speed, I will pull over as often as necessary in one of the few places available.  The pull-outs are even less cared for than the pot-holed roads and it sometimes feels like you could break an axle trying to do the courteous thing.

Regardless of how pretty the drive is, I feel like Dorothy in the Wizard Of Oz, "There's no place like home; there's no place like home."

The Struggle Is Real

I had one heck of a time getting feed down to the girls yesterday.  I use a hand truck for transport, but first the 75-pound bag has to be dragged out of the truck, not always easy.  Then comes the trundle over uneven, sloping ground booby-trapped with squirrel holes.  Yesterday it was a struggle to get the truck through the gate into the pen because overgrown weeds on the inside were blocking the way.  It took some finagling, but ta da.  Down in the barn at last, there was one more hurdle.  There is no way I can deadlift that heavy bag, so it has to be moved as close as possible to the barrel and then about a third of the grain is transferred scoop by scoop until I can hoist the rest and dump it in.  They say where there's a will, there's a way, but some days are harder than others.  The girls didn't care as long as they got their breakfast.

Missy needs to step up her game.  I think the danged freeloading squirrels are coming in to share her kibble, something no self-respecting cat should allow.  We're going to have a talk about this.

I had planned to either go into town or mow, but aching muscles cancelled both plans.  It was a sit-down kind of day.

When The Wind Blows

The deltas that had come in the day before hung around overnight and were going strong yesterday morning and it was cool enough to need a jacket again.  After breakfast and being let out of the barn, the girls were feeling frisky with the change in weather.  The last things to do before going back to the house are to open the gate between the pens to give the girls access to more shade and, at this time of year, more weeds, and also to put clips on the latches to the barn gate and door.  While doing the latter, there was suddenly the sound of running hooves coming at me and I looked up to see all three goats come charging!  Whoa, this wouldn't do.  I yelled and raised my arms and they slid to a stop, wheeled and raced off the other way.  I remembered back when I had horses as a kid and a windy day would make them misbehave, too.  Finished locking up, I headed up to the gate and I'll be darned if the girls didn't charge again.  Sheila and Inga turned and raced and bucked across the pen, but Tessie really liked this new game and continued to challenge me until she also went running up to start some head-butting with the others.

This nutty behavior wasn't limited to the outdoor animals.  Back in the house, Ralph and Celeste were also affected.  Ralph running around isn't anything new, but yesterday the two of them were a blur as they went full throttle up and down the hall, jumping on and off the bed at one end of their track and the loveseat in the round room at the other.

Bess and I were just as happy with the cool day as the others, but neither of us was inclined to run anywhere, so we took the truck and went down to Mt. Aukum for goat chow, birdseed...and two cookies.

It was a good day.

Forewarned

I've said it before...if we agree on a time for a visit, you can come late (within reason), but if you come early I promise this charter member of Procrastinators United won't be ready.  Okay, Candy, the itinerant hairdresser, was coming between 3:30 and 4:00 yesterday to give me a haircut.  No sweat, plenty of time.  Saturday is the day for all the TV cooking shows, a definite must.  Check the clock and calculate how long a quick sweep through the living room and kitchen will take and how long I could put off action.  Heck, I could even sneak in a nap.  Yeah, well, I got busted big time.  The telephone woke me and it was a woman saying she could be here in a few minutes.  ???  It was Candy and it was 1:00!!  Nooo!  Her prior appointment had finished early and, rather than go all the way home and drive back out here, she would like to come now.  It would have been churlish to say no, so, "Of course."  Procrastinators must be punished.  Moving at the speed of light is not my style, but I managed to get the house at least semi-presentable before Bess announced a car in the driveway.

Candy is just as sweet as her name, and we have become friends over the years.  When she had her shop, she would schedule my appointments as the last of the day so we could have a good visit together.  Coming here is no different.  We chatted longer than it took to trim my hair.

Ready or not, it was a good day.

It Happens

I have been sitting in front of the computer, staring at a blank "page" for half an hour and trying to come up with something, anything, that might be of interest without success.  Yesterday was one of those all-around blah days.  The house pets spent nearly all their time sleeping.  I took a nap.  Even the turkeys out in the yard were hunkered down asleep.  Well, yippee skippy, that's certainly worth putting on the page.  It wasn't because we were suffering from the heat.  A strong, cooling delta breeze blew in in the afternoon and kept the temperature comfortable, so I can't even complain loudly about the weather.  (I'm good at that.)

I guess I'll take Thumper's mama's advice.  "If you can't say something nice (i.e., interesting), don't say nothing at all."

Close Call

It's that time of year.  Up here, we can tell the seasons by the prevalent weed:  burr clover, those dreaded tiny daggers, etc., and right now it's foxtails.  After an outing yesterday, Bess started coughing.  Not just coughing, but choking.  Tongue thrust forward, drooling, and continually retching, it was scary.  What to do?  Bess normally has only dry food, but I keep a can of "wet" food for emergencies, and, trust me, this was an emergency.  My thinking was that if she would, or could, eat something, it might dislodge the foxtail and get it on down the line.  Wet food being such a treat, she happily gobbled it down and it seemed to have a positive effect, but there was still some gagging.  Hmmm.  Okay, go to Plan B.  I made a piece of toast, slathered it with peanut butter, and fed her small bites.  Ta da!  We dodged that bullet and let's hope we don't have that situation again.

Some time back, I bought a carpet sweeper for those times we are without power.  Unfortunately, at the time I didn't realize the sweeper had a rechargeable battery thingy.  Since it wasn't called to duty all that often, the darn thing was always out of juice.  Drat.  And then, to put the cherry on top, it just quit working, period.  Okay, fine, just fine.  Trying to plan ahead, I went online and found an old-time, only people-power required, carpet sweeper and, ta da, it would be delivered to the local hardware store free of charge.  I received notice yesterday that it had arrived.  Since I had to go to town anyhow, I plotted my travel route and included a first stop at the store up in Pleasant Valley to get the sweeper.  The hardware store is right across the road from the grocery store.  Hmmm.  Checking my list, I happily discovered that there was nothing that I couldn't get right across the street.  Bwahaha!

Bess was safe, I didn't have to go all the way to town, man, I was a happy camper.  Until I got home.  It wasn't until I was putting groceries away and put the few things into the refrigerator that I realized we had no electricity.  How's that for irony?  There I was with a brand-new, old-timey carpet sweeper to use in an emergency, and there we were without power.  The sweeper works fine, and it wasn't all that long before PG&E got things up and running again and the ceiling fan got going before I expired from the heat.

There were happy endings to all of the day's events, but I can't honestly say it was one of the better days.

One Never Knows

I wake up every day thinking, "Okay, today I'm going to get this and this and that done!"  It rarely happens, but I have good intentions.  I was surprised to get an early morning call from my daughter in the middle of the week.  I usually hear from her on Saturday mornings before dawn, something I really look forward to.  Deb gets up early also and Craig likes to sleep in, so she and I "share" a cup of coffee and talk.  They're having some extensive interior house work done, thus she was home from work.

The next surprise was an unexpected call from one of my brothers-in-law.  I had not yet even left the computer.  Glenn wanted to remind me about Family Reunion and also had a couple of questions.  He also told me of his trials and tribulations while renewing his drivers license and also the need for a government-required new form of identification.  After nearly four score, the need to prove I'm me is hogwash, but if I expect to vote ever again, I guess I'll have to get in line and march along with the rest.

I got down to the barn more than an hour earlier than the winter routine, but I was still sweating before the girls were done with their breakfast.  Aaargh.  After chores, I put in a call to my investment broker.  The guy who had been my overseer for years had retired and I had not yet met nor talked to his replacement.  The new man was quite personable, in fact, he turned out to be a regular Chatty Cathy, and our conversation went far afield.  Regardless, I did get my questions answered and got business done.

While we were concluding our talk, Joe, a neighbor I've not seen in years, drove up.  He has an interest in cutting up the big oak down by the road that had fallen a year or two back.  Beau had decided he did not want to take it on.  For years, Joe and Steve used to go up into the national forests together to cut firewood from the slash piles left by foresters.  It was my rule that Steve could not go alone, and if I couldn't go with him, he'd go with Joe.  A guy with a chainsaw alone out in the middle of nowhere on a pile of logs is just not safe.  Joe was happy to have a big supply of wood so close to home, and I was happy to give my okay.  We talked for quite awhile and got caught up.

Before I could get started on anything, the phone rang again.  It was a gal I'd worked with back in the early, early '90s, and we also had a lot to catch up on.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, Cam called.  Who says I don't have a social life?  One never knows what the day will bring.  It was a good day.

Where's Waldo?

With the advent of warmer weather (upper 80s does not yet qualify as hot, but close), Bessie Anne plays her own version of hide-and-seek, known in this house as Where's Waldo.  My little constant companion and I are rarely more than a few feet apart.  She can be sound asleep, but if I walk out of the room, she wakes up and follows.  She moves around the living room, sometimes lying on her "pillow" by my feet, sometimes on one or the other couch, and sometimes asking for a boost into the recliner, but always nearby.  If I look around and she's not in one of her hangouts, I get a little concerned.  Did she go outside and not come back in?  Maybe she went down the hall to get a drink of water.  Hmmm.  And then I'll hear her sigh or move in her sleep.  She has gone into hiding in what must be a cool spot on the hearthstone behind Stove.  Ah yes, it's all coming back to me now.  We're going into summer mode.

Come to think of it, I haven't seen Celeste's favorite pink piglet, Waldo, in a couple of weeks.  She's probably moved him to the cooler downstairs for the duration.

And So It Goes

It's no secret that going to town is not, repeat not, my favorite activity.  When absolutely required, I try to take care of as many errands on one trip as possible.  Glancing at the calendar yesterday, I realized there was a doctor's appointment on Wednesday.  Hmmm.  What on the list could I do without until Wednesday so as not to be running back and forth through the hills?  Turned out there was just one essential thing and I could get that at Mt. Aukum.  Honestly, I felt I'd dodged a bullet.

Definitely warmer yesterday, I loaded up Bess and we went down to the feed store.  Getting the A/C fixed in the truck was money well spent.  Bess does a good imitation of Checkpoint Charlie before I get back in, making sure I didn't forget her cookies.  It was a quick trip; I can handle that.

We hadn't been home long before the phone rang.  It was the doctor's office.  They needed to reschedule my appointment for nearly two weeks out.  Ratchafratch.  I'll still have to go to town for supplies this week, and now there's another trip on the calendar.  It's getting harder and harder to be a recluse.

Another Day At The Races

Man oh man, I'm on a roll here.  My pick, Justify, won the Triple Crown, and yesterday my guy Bowyer won the NASCAR race in Michigan.  Of course, I've gotten nothing done for two days and I'm going to run out of the great weather we've been having.  Oh well, one does have priorities, you know.

When the Kids were small and the last of something needed to be divided between two of them, I'd say, "Okay, you get to cut (serve, break, whatever), but the other one gets first pick."  Not that one would intentionally cheat to get a bigger portion, but that evened the playing field.  Ralph reminds me of the Kids.  When he and Celeste are getting treats, he has to check out the size of her portion.  I swear he counts the number of nibbles she has before he starts in on his own.  Sibling rivalry is no different between species.

Like it or not (not), I have to town today.  If I thought my winning streak would hold, I'd buy a Lottery ticket.  Maybe I'd best not push my luck.

And They're Off!

Actually, Larry Collmus, the current race announcer, doesn't say that anymore as they did back in the day.  Except for a dash up to the store after chores for nibbles to serve Camille, I didn't do a darn thing yesterday but enjoy the pre-Stakes races and festivities.  It's a good thing all of my bets were in my mind.  Most of my "winners" came in third (show), several in fourth, and the one I thought had won was a photo finish and my horse was second.  Phooey.  All of that didn't matter because Justify brought it home and won the Belmont Stakes and Triple Crown!!  Whoop whoop!

If you think I wasn't grateful for the pause button, you'd be wrong.  Camille and Honey drove up just as the horses were being brought from the stable for the last and most important race of the day.  If it had been a choice between watching the Belmont and pulling John D out of the dirt, he'd be sitting there still.  It took Cam about two minutes to extricate John with her quad, about the same time as it takes the horses to run the mile-and-a-half track, and I'd have missed it.

Honey had been to the doggy day spa and had been bathed and clipped and looked like a show dog, and she knew it.  If my shaggy little girl was jealous, she didn't let on.  Bess and Honey remind me so of Mutt And Jeff, newspaper cartoon characters popular from 1907 to 1983.  The two dogs couldn't look more different, tall and short, purebred and mutt, but they're best friends, regardless.

It was a good day.

Homefront

Any time spent on John D (after the day before, having a bit of trouble calling him John Dear) wipes me out, so all was quiet on the homefront here yesterday.  My ambition and endurance have their limitations.

Bessie Anne was feeling so well yesterday that she started a spontaneous game of Chase Me, in which she races around (maybe not as fast as in the past) the dining room table and I'm expected to menace and try to catch her.  She snatches up one of the many toys laying around and I'm supposed to take it away.  Somehow I never do.  It's a game she initiated and has loved since she was a puppy.  It made me so happy to see her playing.  John D and I may be on the outs, but Bessie will always be my dear girl.

Camille and I were talking and I told her what a stinker John D had been and where I'd left him.  She offered to come today with her quad and pull him out of the dirt.  She also told me that two guys were just then weed whacking along her fence line on the side road, and then started on the section by the paved road.  Going out to thank them, she found out they were husband and wife neighbors who had, for years, watched Cam work so hard keeping their road clear of weeds and decided to return the favor.  Between Cam's offer to me and the gift of time and effort of her neighbors, I am reminded of Blanche DuBois's line in "Streetcar Named Desire" (1947, Marlon Brando, Kim Hunter, Vivien Leigh), "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."  These may not be strangers, but they are most certainly kind.

Cam and Honey may stop by today, quad work notwithstanding, to watch the running of the Belmont Stakes, the third jewel in the Triple Crown of horse racing.  Justify having won the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, I can't help but root for this big boy.  So many have come so close without taking the crown, only thirteen since the 1800s.  I know what I'll be doing on the homefront today.

Thwarted

Why, you might ask, am I posting a picture of John Dear in the middle of an unfinished front yard in the late afternoon, and therein lies the tale.

John and I have still not established rapport.  In fact, I think he hates me.  He shows me in no uncertain terms that he wishes he'd been adopted by some large guy who lived on flat property, not some wimpy lady out in the hilly boonies.  It being a cool morning, I was actually looking forward to getting at least some of the yards cut down after barn chores.  Because I'd not approached John in awhile, I had some concern that his battery might have died again (his previous act of revenge), but he fired right up and I was hopeful.  Because he'd run out of gas on our last outing, the side yard looked like it was wearing a Mohawk with high weeds in the middle, so that was where we headed first.  Like all the property here, the yards end in a slope.  John does not like to drive on a slope, but not as much as I hate making him go there.  He is exceptionally top heavy and it feels like he's going to tip over and he scares the snot out of me.  I had to find a different pattern than the one Fu Manchu and I had driven happily for so many years.  Okay, I can adapt.  The side yard mowed, I rewarded John with a full tank of gas and started on the front yard.  The slopes there were even worse, and there were a couple of times I yelped in fear.  I refuse to be cowed by a cranky machine, changed the mowing pattern, and carried on.  John plotted revenge.  There are numerous squirrel burrows in the front yard (what a surprise), each with its mound of dug-up dirt.  Even at the highest setting, John's mowing deck is very low.  We plowed over most, throwing up rolling clouds of dust in the breeze.  Note to self:  do not wear a white shirt when mowing.  Second note to self:  close the front door before mowing.  While making a turn, John took the opportunity to bury the deck in dirt and we came to an abrupt halt.  Wheels spinning, he would not go forward, he would not back up.  Try as I might, there was no way I could pull or push him out of the dirt.  John won that round.  Now it's the front yard that has a new hairdo.

Thwarted, I went in the house and texted Beau, asking for help, and waited to hear back.  The best way to deal with frustration is to keep busy, so decided to give the house some attention.  Found out I still could not get the vacuum cleaner to run, so no help there.  Okay, I went in to dry mop the kitchen.  Bessie Anne followed me in and laid down in the path and would not move.  Consequently, the floor bears a resemblance to the yards with a patch unmopped.  And Beau hadn't made contact.  I kept on with this and that, still hoping.  It wasn't until dark that Beau texted back, saying he and his family were camping for the weekend, but he'd be here on Sunday.  That's why John is sitting outside.  I hope he learns his lesson.

Bessie Anne seems to have recovered fully, went in and out, followed me everywhere (see above), and her tail wagged all day.  That was the best thing that happened all day.

Not On The Move

This was Bessie Anne yesterday, almost all day yesterday, but it could easily be a selfie of me.  Kit was right, I'm only good for one day of activity in a row.   Bess must have been truly stressed to the point of trauma by her visit to the vet.  Even on a do-nothing day, I get my exercise by opening doors to let Bessie out and back in.  If I go out, she goes out.  Yesterday she went out only once.  She did not follow me from room to room.  She did not accompany me when I went to do goat chores.  By evening, I was getting worried, wondering if she'd had a reaction to the vaccines.  Happily, I can report she seems much more lively this morning and more like her old self.  (Me too.)

Just for the do-nothing days, I DVR a number of what I consider interesting programs and movies and hold them in reserve.  I was struck again by modern technology and absolutely love my remote control.  Back in the day, kids were the remote.  It is so great to fast-forward through commercials to maintain continuity and hit the pause button to answer a call of nature.  Even when watching a non-recorded program, I turn off the sound during a commercial, most of which are inane and geared to the lowest common denominator and just plain irritating.

We're due for a day in the low 70s, so I'd best get my rear in gear and get some mowing done today before we shoot up into the high 90s next week.  Aargh.

On The Move

Sunup to sundown, I was one busy lady yesterday, partially by necessity and also due to a drop in temperature.  After barn chores, I put the mechanical servants to work in kitchen and laundry room and went off to vote.  I know that vote-by-mail is the vogue now, but I still prefer the community feeling of making the effort to go to the poll.  Yesterday I ran into Arden and was hugged by a man, a stranger, who loved my NASCAR T-shirt.

Already out of the house, next came a quick run to the feed store.  On my last trip to town, I bought a big bag of dog food.  I'd already bought a big bag of cat food, but Bess was nearly out.  I try to stagger those purchases because of their weight, which makes me stagger.  A couple of days before, I'd opened the dog food to give Bessie her breakfast and thought, "Well, they must have changed the formula or something because that sure doesn't look like her regular kibble."  Duh.  The brand I buy uses the same color for cats and dogs and I hadn't paid attention.  Consequently I have forty pounds of cat food.  I gave cat food to Bess for a couple of mornings, but if I didn't go to the store, I feared she would have an identity crisis and start meowing.

Spurred by success, more chores got crossed off the To-Do list while we waited until time for Bessie Anne's late-afternoon appointment for her yearly visit to the vet.  Going to the vet's office is not her favorite outing.  She goes in willingly enough, but that is the end of her cooperation.  She lies down, period.  The tech had to carry her to the scale for a weigh in, and later into the exam room.  Although not a large dog, Bess is a solid chunk, nearly 50 pounds.  The alternative to carrying would have been to pull her across the floor like a dust mop.  She got her vaccinations and a pedicure, and I'm happy to say she passed all her tests and the exam with flying colors.

We didn't get home until nearly six o'clock, and we were both ready for a rest.  After putting the goats to bed, I called it quits for the day.  It was a good day.

Not Alone

Privacy is an illusion in this house.  I go nowhere alone.  We are a tribe of four and travel in a group.  I sometimes wonder if three of us pity me, who has to get along with only two legs.  The cats particularly like it when "we" go into the bathroom.  Since, in their eyes, I'm not doing anything, there's no excuse not to pet them and they crowd around my feet.  As Bess ages, she has more difficulty navigating on slick floors and so stands in the doorway watching.  In the kitchen, she comes in just far enough that she can back out, otherwise her legs go out from under.  I really want to get her one of those beep-beep backup signals that trucks have.  Ralph and Celeste are sure that any trip to the kitchen is an opportunity for treats.  Always optimistic, they've got their routine down pat, doing the rub-up and sweet-talk thing.  Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) it works.  Bessie doesn't get left out; she gets three (always three and they have to come in the same order) different treats every morning.  It's nice to know I'm still trainable.  At night, the tribe gathers to go to bed together in self-assigned places.

This group mentality is not limited to the house.  The goats come out of their stalls one at a time in the morning, but from then on we are a herd.  I have to latch gate and doors behind me when I need to work in the barn else it would get crowded in there.  I am always provided an escort when leaving the pen, and the girls meet me every evening so we can walk down to the barn together.

I might not have a human companion, but I'm not alone.

Time Travel

Well into the upper 80s yesterday, it was a good day to do a little time traveling and stay in out of the heat.  I had previously DVRd a two-hour special on Fleetwood Mac...perfect.  Their album "Rumours" came out in 1977, and I first heard it on a solitary, eight-hour drive at night going to Phoenix and fell in love with their music.  Listening to Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham yesterday transported me to another place and time in my life, and it was a good place to be.

After that, I'd meant to switch over to the NASCAR race at Pocono, but got caught up in a special for Joan Baez's 75th birthday and once again went back in time.  I became aware of her during the Vietnam era, when she was an anti-war activist and then, of course, became a civil-rights activist.  "Diamonds And Rust" is still one of my favorite songs.  She is even more beautiful now (we should all be so lucky), and her voice is as strong as it ever was.

There was still an hour or so of NASCAR by the time I came back to the present.  I feel bad for the commentators who have to make a go-round-and-round race sound exciting, and they had their work cut out yesterday.  Lets put it this way, I hadn't missed much.

A cooler day is predicted today and it's back to reality for me.

Cat Antics

Still fairly early yesterday morning, Ralph's complaining caught my attention.  It seemed Celeste had claimed the only available patch of sunlight to warm her bum and he wanted it.  He tried to fit into a tiny spot on the floor by the door without success.  These kids crack me up.

I haven't seen Missy for a couple of days, but she's been busy.  I can't imagine how she does it, but she caught and killed another bird and left it in her room.  I'd much prefer that she would concentrate on the abundant ground squirrels now that she's cleared the barn of mice, etc., but they are either too much or not enough of a challenge for her.

Years ago we had a cat, Tag-Along Toolu, who was the most inefficient hunter ever.  There was a gopher hole in the backyard.  Toolu had good intentions, but there wasn't much hope of a kill when she would sit on the hole instead of watching it.

A couple of times now I've seen a calico cat in the front yard.  It runs away when it sees me, and that's fine with me.  Bessie Anne loves "her" kitties, but strangers are fair game and she's too old now to give chase.  I don't want her to have a heart attack.  Yesterday morning the calico was cruising the deck.  What cheek!  Fortunately, Bess's eyesight is so poor now that she didn't see it.

I just felt the softest touch on my shoulder, Ralph's way of saying he'd like some attention and possibly to come over from the bed and sit on my lap.  I can't imagine a life without a dog and cat(s) in it.

Ladies On The Loose

It didn't go exactly as planned.  Tinka and I had made a blue print for our outing with Kit:  we would meet in Mt. Aukum, go into Placerville, have lunch at one of the better Chinese restaurants, then visit the Placerville History Museum.  That was the plan.  We got to the restaurant, only to find that it would be closed from June 1 to July 1, and what was yesterday?  June 1.  Boogers!  Having our mouths set for Chinese food, I suggested another place I'd been to years before, and it was only a little backtrack to get there (there are a few other places, but completely away from the museum).  Traffic was really heavy in town, and Tinka, who was driving, and I agreed that driving in what we who live in the boonies call heavy traffic is no fun.  Kit, who lives in southern CA, probably considered it light to normal.  We got to the second restaurant, only to find it was now an empty building.  I wonder when it had gone out of business.  Thwarted, we decided to go to some place, any place, to get lunch and ended up at Denny's.  It was filling, but when you have your mouth set on a particular food, nothing else is really satisfactory.

The museum is a fun, interesting place to visit, full of memorabilia from bygone eras, including wagons made in gold rush days by Studebaker, who we think of as a car maker now.  There are docents who would explain the displays, but we declined and just wandered through the exhibits, inside and out.  Tinka and I are old enough to have had parents and grandparents who were in WWI and beyond, and reminisced about them.  Kit's dad was a pilot in WWII. We spent several well-spent hours looking and talking.  (We do a lot of talking.)

When we finally got back to Mt. Aukum, we all agreed it had been a great day, but we were still hungry for Chinese food.  Sigh.

Squirrel Games

I'm going to get caught behind the eight ball if I don't get the yards mowed pretty soon.  For awhile there, the every-other-day rain kept me from getting the job done and then it heated up and drained my ambition.  It was at the top of the list yesterday because cooler weather was promised.  It was, indeed, cooler, and that was because of a really strong delta breeze (call it like it was, windy), not optimum conditions for mowing.  It won't get done today because I'm joining Tinka and Kit for lunch in town.  The thing is, one of these days they're going to cut off the use of spark-causing equipment because of fire danger and there I'll be with my weeds showing.  Good intentions don't get the job done.

Robert the Raider and his gang have turned the deck into a race track.  They used to creep from pot to pot, sneaking like the thieves they are.  Now they speed around corners in groups and thunder down the straightaway like NASCAR pros.  One wouldn't think a small squirrel's footsteps could be so loud.  The lack of flowers on the deck makes me sad, but there is one small satisfaction.  About the only things growing are garlic chives.  Either they don't appeal to squirrels or they don't want to go home with garlic-onion breath and stink up the burrow.  Either way, they leave the chives alone.

I am so looking forward to seeing my friends.  It's going to be a good day.