As The World Turns

I think I can say with honesty that I've never in my life watched a soap opera, but the title of a well-known old one (As The World Turns, 1956-2010) came to me last evening.  It was so apparent that the earth had turned on its axis.  I made sure to stand close to where I've taken so many other photos to show why the days are shorter now.

For comparison purposes, this shot was taken months ago, before the cellphone tower was erected.  It certainly shows how the sun is going down from right to left of the trees on the horizon.  With a shortened arc, it's obvious why we have fewer hours of daylight.

We head into a new decade tomorrow.  The world turns and time flies.  I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but I'm going to try this year...See It, Do It...and, yes, that includes dusting.  This has been a do-nothing year and I'm tired of it.

Ohmigosh, I just looked back and realized I've been writing almost daily (power outages notwithstanding) since January 2010!  Sheila and Tessie were pregnant with their first kids; they're old ladies now.  I had lots of chickens then and no Rotten Stanley.  I hated dusting then, too.  Some things don't change.  I started with a photo of sunset, so it's fitting to end this year the same way.

Happy New Year!

Ho Hum

Nothing if not true to form, yesterday was a do-nothing day for me after all the festivities.  Ralph and Celeste, on the other hand, had their own holiday, opening boxes and bags and finding, oh joy, tissue paper!  Celeste was worn out from getting the box open and then pulling it out and/or making confetti.  Ralph got the paper out of the box and Michael chimed in by lying on it.  I don't know whether he liked doing that or was saying nanner-nanner to the cats.  Anyway, they all had fun.

I've learned over time not to put the See's box next to my chair.  Showing admirable restraint, I left it in the kitchen and only went in there, oh, four or five times.  At this rate, I may make the box last four or five days.  Or not.

Leftover KFC potatoes, gravy, and my favorite coleslaw for lunch.  (I'm saving the chicken for last.)  Deb and Craig had also given me packets of chickpea masala.  One minute in the microwave and they're hot and ready to eat.  A warm, spicy, filling dinner on a cold, cold day.

The predicted storm didn't materialize so I brought more wood to the porch and promptly stuffed Stove and lit it.  On our last walk of the day, Michael and I were surprised to see a young, maybe a yearling, horse trotting across our path and heading down the drive.  "Do you want me to do something about that, Mom?"  "No, Michael.  Just let him be."  I couldn't readily locate Bruce and Annie's phone number, so called Arden to let her know the horses had found a way out.  Just as Bruce called back, another one came into my yard, maybe the kid's mama looking for him, and I let Bruce know that there was a major breakout.  It was nearly dark, so all I could do was wish them luck.

That was the most excitement to be had on an otherwise ho-hum day.  Unless you're a cat.

I Needed That!

Rushing around yesterday, I came across the box of costumes that Michael came with.  Thinking to get a little holiday spirit going, I chose the Santa hat.  Is this the face of a happy dog?

No, it is not.  "Mom, you make me look like a fool!"

I told him that I'd take it off if he'd let me get just one good picture.  To be honest, this looks a lot more like "Bah humbug," than "Ho Ho Ho."  (He doesn't know about the Halloween witch hat with the orange wig.  Shhh.)

The Kids started showing up midday.  There is nothing like the gathering of the clan to cure the blahs, and I got a healthy dose yesterday.  They came bearing gifts and KFC!  This was the first year I haven't cooked, but with KFC on the table, I couldn't/wouldn't complain.  We may have started a new tradition.

Then came a flurry of tissue and wrapping paper as we opened presents.  Clyde, Deb and Craig's cat, was very generous to Michael and the cats, gifting them with bags and jars of treats.  No, they're not spoiled.  Dave is a big believer in toys for Christmas and gave everyone a small drone, controlled (or not) by the waving of hands.  It was an episode of Star Wars, and I was attacked several times.  For nearly forty years, Deb picked up where my father left off and gave me a box of See's candy, his every-year present.  I promptly put it in a cupboard like any respectable hoarder, not willing to share.

The Kids were very impressed with the new, improved deck.  Being a sunny day, they spent time out there.  Dave, a foreman on a multi-million project, sent kudos to Mike.

Deb has a fancy-dancy phone that will take a photo on a timer and got a good shot of all of us together.  She sent it to my phone and I will share it when I figure out how to transfer it to the computer.

All to soon, it was time for Deb, Craig, Dave, Clay, and Jester to get out of the hills before dusk when the deer come out.  It was a good day and a merry, Merry Christmas.  I needed that.

Win Some...

Anybody out there who could loan me some leftover holiday spirit?  I seem to have lost or misplaced mine.  Good intentions didn't get me far this year and I still haven't put up so much as a wreath for Christmas.  I am definitely looking forward to seeing the Kids who are coming up today, but just wish I were more prepared.  Sigh.

I usually see one flicker per season.  This year there is a whole flock of this unusual woodpecker.  They are much larger than their rowdy redheaded cousins, and they're a pretty bird, dressed in tan with a black collar and polka dots on the chest.  They come to sit on the deck rail and look in the window, so I get a good look at them, too.  The passing parade of migrating birds is such a pleasure.

Well, it's 6 a.m. and still dark outside.  Maybe there's time to do something yet.  I don't know what, but something.  Just muttering ho ho ho isn't going to cut it.

Ho Ho Ho!  (I'm trying.)

The Last Drop

I'm in a rut.  It's a comfortable rut and I'm not complaining.  Every morning starts in exactly the same way...every single day of the week.  Wake up, get up, make one cup of coffee and, while the pot is doing its thing, make sure there is food in the little kids' bowls.  Bring the coffee back to the bedroom and write the day's entry.  Some days the blog nearly writes itself, other days I struggle.  So many times I listen to the music in my head; that's nice.  This morning I woke up reciting a poem I learned long, long ago.  The opening lines are "Backward, turn backward, O Time in thy flight.  Make me a child again just for tonight" (Elizabeth Akers Allen, 1800s).  Now where the heck did that come from?  Maybe I'm just a bit tired of doing Grownup.  (Can you tell that dusting is on the agenda for today?)

The thing is, it doesn't take a cup of coffee long to go cold.  I don't much care for cold coffee, so I'm constantly checking the mug, even when I know I've finished it (just in case, you know).  A problem arises when I've used a black mug,as I did today.  Writing in a dark room, I check the cup and can't tell if it's empty.  Many's the time I've raised the mug and get hit with a slurp of iced coffee.  Oh well, it's still good to the last drop.

I was admiring Michael's coloring last evening while he was posing like a library lion.  He has perfect counterpoints to accent his thick black fur coat.  We'll go out for a walk later (Michael's in a rut, too), and I guarantee he'll go for the last drop.

Sitting Pretty

"You are smart.  You are handsome.  You are as soft as a cloud.  You are a good, good boy."  Michael hears this mantra every day.  Because of the dark background it's a little hard to see Michael's ears.  They go out to the side Baby Yoda style like this when he's relaxed, but let me take down the leash or reach in my pocket for a treat and those ears go up on high alert.  I also tell him he's funny, but he, so serious, rejects that idea.  Look at those eyes and tell me he's not a sentient being.

I received a call from Glenn and Jerri, my other brother- and sister-in-law, with an invitation to join a family dinner.  I declined, but certainly appreciated the thought.

It was a quiet, peaceful Christmas Day.  Because of the holiday the trash man's schedule was off, so Michael got his truck ride yesterday.  (Try to keep up here, it's an event in our week!)  A neighbor who is out of town asked me to pick up a package that UPS was to leave by his gate.  There are so many porch thieves in the news these days and he didn't want to be a victim.  I hoped I wouldn't be mistaken for one.

I take it back about it being a quiet day.  It's never hard to tell who got a new gun for Christmas.  Gunshots of different calibers ring out all over the hills.  It was a bit startling the first year.  Now it's expected.

I did eat the other apple cake for dinner, but still have some fruit cake left.  I believe in prolonging a holiday as much as I can.  After all, Christmas isn't for two more days.

Oh Joy!

I wasn't the only one gifted yesterday.  It being Christmas Eve and all, I decided to open the packages I'd received.  I'd been bemoaning the lack of holiday baking this year due to dietary restraints in the family, so imagine my delight when I found apple cakes from Stan and Lynne.

Having no self-control, I promptly ate one (gobbled is more like it).  Ahh, the taste of cinnamon and ginger, the moistness of the apples.

I had dared to hope for what might be in the box from Kathy V.  I had seen on FB that she'd been baking fruit cakes, a lot of fruitcakes.  Could it be she'd sent one to me?  She had!  Not waiting for a knife, I gnawed off one end.  (I did say I have no self-control).

Cherries and nuts and all the other fruits found in fruit cake.  Nom nom nom!  It was a mouthful of Christmas.

Ralph, in the meantime, had found his own gift.  Give a cat a box and you have a happy cat.  They need no directions.  What do you do with a box?  You get in!  Ralph was having such a good time until his sister batted him on the butt (all that was sticking out) and demanded her turn.  Sisters, what're ya gonna do?

I spent a good portion of the day and into the evening connecting with friends and family.  I've stayed in contact with my 90-year-old cousin on my dad's side.  She and I are nearly the only two left, and she's the only one with whom I can share memories of our past.  "Do you remember when Grandpa did such and such?" And we laugh.

George had kicked off the holiday season with his gift of pecan cookies.  Stan, Lynne, and Kathy V topped it off.  Pure joy!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Relief

I wasn't kidding about the mess Nature left, but I'm so very glad that after having thrown her hissy fit, she left all trees standing and the window intact.  I was also grateful for the beautiful, mostly sunny day yesterday.

I had big plans, starting with a stop at the post office just minutes before they closed for lunch and picked up a package from Kathy V.  That was exciting!  The drive to CP was uneventful, traffic was light, and I was early.  Ah well.  The doctor was an hour late with his appointments.  So much for my plans to finally shop for Christmas.  Maybe I'll just hand out gift-wrapped IOUs.

During my exam and talking to the doctor, it was a relief to find there may be a medical reason for my continuing case of the blahs and inertia and that I wasn't just "losing it.." It is possibly a combination of the polycythemia and hyperthyroidism, neither curable but treatable.

It started drizzling on the way home.  All along our country roads there are signs reading "Deer Crossing."  The problem is that deer can't read.  From experience, I know that when it starts to rain the grazing deer head for cover, which is inveritably across the road.  Having slowed on the wet road, I didn't hit the dumb-dumb that ran in front of my truck.  There was one patch of heavy rain, but it slowed again when I got home.

I got the most welcome surprise when I came in the door.  Michael, usually so unemotional, started bouncing up and down and twirling in circles, running back to lick my hand.  "Oh, you're home!  You're home!  I really, really missed you!"  Believe me, that was a major breakthrough and a great Christmas present.  I've asked him every day if he was happy to be here, hoping for some sign that he was.  What a relief.

Blow The Man Down!

Wow!  The wind yesterday was the worst yet.  At times it actually got scary, and I wasn't the only one affected.  Arden was also alone in the house and called in the morning to hear a voice instead of the constant howling.  Her place is down in a cut, but my home at the top of the hill took the brunt.  Just after daybreak I was still at the computer when something, I have no idea what, hit a window in front of me and it sounded like a gunshot.  From what I could see from the inside, the window wasn't broken, but I couldn't work up the courage to go outside and look.  Rain beat against the glass like a fist.

Given the conditions, I thought surely I could let Michael out alone and he would stay close to the house and come back in.  Silly me.  We took an abbreviated walk together (with him leashed) in the afternoon, and didn't leave the circle of porchlight in the evening and came back in soaked.  The front porch is ankle deep in dead leaves and a lawn chair was blown clear across the yard.  My bench is firmly embedded in the hedge. 

There was just one blip in the power, but I wasn't the only one who expected a blackout either from a falling tree or PG&E.  Too nervous to do much else, I binge watched recorded series just to take my attention away from the wind.

So far, so good this morning.  Owls are out hunting in the dark.  I'm sure they didn't fly yesterday.  I hope it stays calm because I've got to go down to Cameron Park today, and I wouldn't want to drive Bucks Bar in weather like yesterday.

Dratted Gnats

At least once a year we are plagued with gnats, horrible little insects that lie in wait to drive man and beast to distraction.  Not too long ago I was coming home from somewhere I probably did not want to be in the first place and saw a woman walking down the paved road toward me.  She was waving her arms wildly and I wasn't sure if she was signaling to me for help or possibly demented.  Either way, I stopped and asked if she was okay.  It turned out to be someone I knew but hadn't seen for years.  Yes, she was fine, just going for a walk, but was waving away the gnats.  Michael and I are familiar with that situation on our daily walks.  I, like that woman, constantly bat at the air and Michael has to stop again and again to wipe his face.  The tiny no-see-ums go for the eyes, regardless of species.  We're fortunate because we don't have the biting kind.  When Mike was working here, I saw that he was having a problem, too, and I took out a bottle of bug spray for him.  Cutter makes a spray that doesn't smell like repellent, is not oily, and is one-hundred percent effective.  It's called Skinsations and I've used it for years against flies, mosquitoes, and the dreaded gnats if I'm going to be outside for any length of time.  A weather front is coming in (I hear the wind now) and that will send the little buggers for cover and we'll get some relief.

I have to go to Cameron Park tomorrow (aargh).  Because Michael cannot go with me and because I needed to fill the tank, we went down to Mt. Aukum yesterday.  He knows when we're going to the "cookie store" and readily jumps in the truck.  Nice Lady wasn't working, so it was a good thing I had a pocketful of treats for Michael.  I'd hate to have him disappointed.

This is predicted to be a cold storm with possible snow midweek, so it's a good thing I brought more wood to the porch yesterday.  At least it will keep the dratted gnats away.

Sharing

Work in progress.  I wanted to take photos of the deck to share with Harold, and finally there was enough sun to do it justice.  It'll be even more impressive when it gets a coat of preservative.  This is just the sunny part of the long (east) side.

Here is the mitered corner that gave Mike such fits because of the off-angle.  At one point, I thought he was talking on his cellphone (on my time), but discovered Mike talks to himself, he talks to the wood, and sometimes to his tools.

This is the short south side where I can't wait to put my bench back under the near windows, watch the clouds, listen to the birds, and bask in the warmth.

I had a grand day with Harold.  We met at the "new" cafe in Fair Play.  These are, I think, the third or fourth owners, and possibly the best so far.  Harold uses a motorized scooter to get around.  He is, after all, almost ninety.  The cafe is wheelchair accessible and that made it easy for my friend.  Harold likes his grub.  We both had the blackened salmon sandwich and it was probably the most decadent sandwich I've ever had.  Perfectly cooked fish, guacamole, loaded with crisp bacon, and slathered with chipotle aioli.  Harold scarfed down every bite, but it was so rich I brought half of mine home to enjoy later.

Harold is amazing.  He runs, almost by himself, a metal salvage yard and welding shop.  He works an eight-plus hour day and fabricates trailers and I don't know what all else.  His energy puts me to shame.  We talked and laughed a good portion of the afternoon.  It was lovely to share time with my friend.

It was a good day.

What, Me Worry?

After dark last night, I saw headlights coming up my drive.  Hmmm.  It turned out to be the UPS driver with a gift from my brother- and sister-in-law (how kind).  Those UPS drivers must train in the arctic.  They wear shorts in the most frigid weather and drive with the doors open.  Brrr, it makes me cold just to think about that.  This guy had his radio cranked up and I heard a comment about MAD Magazine.  Shades of years gone by.

MAD Magazine first came out in 1952, but I didn't discover it until I was in my teens.  It was like joining an underground cult when I did.  Full of satire and humor, it really appealed to a teenager who had grown up with Little Lulu and Porky Pig.  The iconic, red-headed Alfred E. Neuman kid on the cover with his goofy grin and "What, me worry?" statement was seen everywhere back in the day.  The last issue is/was coming out this month, this year.  It's the end of an era.

Back in the house, I watched the last Democratic debate, and I emphasize the word last.  Between the impeachment folderol and the debates, I've about had it up to here with politics and I'm ready for a break.  Since there's nothing I can do about it until next November, I'm going to adopt Alfred's attitude.  What, me worry?

I'm really looking forward to today.  I'll be meeting my friend Harold for lunch.  We talk frequently, but haven't gotten together in over a year.  He's good, fun company, and a great antidote for political stress.

Tomorrow is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.  I'm not so concerned about the daytime, but I'll be happy to see the backside of the long, dark nights.

Lazy Day

Well, I did have a do-nothing day yesterday, but I can't say it was stress free.  Having had preferences, I've been relatively indifferent to politics most of my life.  Lately, however, I've become fascinated and completely immersed in the D.C. news on MSNBC (avoiding the radical "talking heads").  Knowing it was history in the making, I tuned in on the impeachment hearing in the morning and was stuck there for the rest of the day.  I received a call from a friend in the afternoon.  "I've got to take a break from all this!"  Hitting the pause button, I was grateful for the respite, myself.  Taking Michael for walks also got me away from the TV.  He and I were thankful that the hellacious wind died down and the rain held off, but it was really cold and we didn't dawdle.

Finally, finally the vote was taken.  The outcome will now be decided in the Senate, probably in January.

There's one thing about sleeping all night in the chair.  You're already dressed in the morning.

Good Timing

Boy, Mike finished up here just in time.  The weather held while he was working yesterday, trimming the last of the boards, putting in a few more screws (the gold-colored kind), and loading his truck with the many tools he used.  As it turned out, he needn't have wasted time using my leaf blower to clean away all the sawdust created.  About three this morning, a strong, cold south wind blew in.  It also blew open the bedroom door and the cats took off like rockets.  I'm really surprised we still have power, so today's entry will be short, just in case.  Yes, rain was predicted, but nobody mentioned the wind, and there's no rain yet.  This is the kind of day when my ears are tuned for the crack-and-thud of a falling tree or branches, not my favorite weather.

Mike did all the work, and I was exhausted.  It was time for a nap and an early bedtime.  Later, after sunrise (if/when it comes), I'll go out hunting for the deck furniture that had been put in the front yard and which undoubtedly has been rearranged.  In the meantime, I'll just lollygag around in my robe and slippers.  With Mike's early arrival, getting dressed was a priority these past weeks.

Celeste is curled up on my feet, Ralph is in my lap, and Michael is, as Michael does, sleeping late on the bed.  It's time for a lazy day.

Tunnel Vision

("I See The Light," The Five Americans, 1966)

Mike is on the downhill run now, and I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.  He laid the last of the boards yesterday on a job I'm sure he (and I) thought would never end.  There are just a few details to finish today, and then he can pack up his tools and move on.  The deck is not only beautiful, it is safe!  He has said any number of times, "I don't know how anyone wasn't hurt," the wood was that bad.  Mike had planned to get at least some of the boards stained, but we're due for more wet weather, so maybe that will have to wait until another time.

Not used to having anyone here day after day, one of the things I've had to remember is not to use my big bathroom.  I'm not sure if it had been planned, but there is a window in there that is directly across from the porcelain throne and, as nice as it is to look out, anyone on the deck can see in.  If I'd forgotten, all I could do would be to smile and wave.  The guest bathroom has no windows. 

Florence and Dan came yesterday to pick out usable lumber for a project she has in mind.  They came, like the Magi, bearing the gift of cookies from their housemate, George.  I don't bake for the Kids anymore, so these were the first taste of Christmas for me.  Florence told me, "These are not dinner."  She was wrong.

I had told Mike when he first started that the best (and the worst) advertising is word of mouth.  Camille already has some work lined up for him, and Florence and Dan, after seeing and walking (safely!) on the deck, asked him if he would work down in Amador county.  I feel like a proud mama.

Since the deck still has to be stained, I cannot put the furniture back yet (why move it twice?), but I can see daylight now.

Christmas is rushing toward me like a freight train.  Wish me luck!

Quicksand

I'm losing whatever high ground I might have gained with the few days' extension on our holiday.  Arden did come over yesterday.  Usually so punctual, she was exceptionally late and that threw off my timeline for any Christmas prep I might have considered.  Oh well.  The Kids will be here to eat and play poker, not critique my decor.  I do need to go gift shopping though.

It reminds me of my dad, who used to go looking for a present for my mother on the day, sometimes the night, before Christmas.  "I don't know what she wants!  What do you think she wants?"  My mother had become enamored of Mario Lanza, and I suggested one of his records (probably a 78 rpm in the '50s).  "Really?  That doesn't seem like much of a gift."  "You asked what she wants."  Mother was thrilled and almost wore down the grooves.

I don't know what the Kids want or where to get it.

Mike is starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  He figures he has one, maybe two more days of work here (if he's lucky) and is starting on cleanup, sorting the discarded lumber into piles.  Some he'll take and some Florence will choose for a project she has in mind.  Mike has promised to burn the rest, for which I'm grateful.  I won't set a burn pile on my own as I can't move fast enough if a spark should start a secondary fire.  It's all good, but that's two or more shopping days lost.

I'd brought a load of firewood to the porch before Arden arrived.  Wind had blown back the tarps and the wood was wet.  Wet wood doesn't work well in a wood stove, but persistence paid off and the house was warm, that being a relative term.  There was only enough time to take Michael for a walk when my friend drove off so I didn't get more.

I feel like I'm in one of those thriller movies where the protagonist can only watch the clock tick down before the bomb goes off.  I've stepped into quicksand and I'm sinking fast.

Reprieve

Whew!  In a flurry of text messages yesterday, my band of renegades reached a consensus and, weather permitting, we will celebrate a combination holiday of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year on December 28.  That gives me a couple of extra days to get ready, as in go big-time shopping.

Mike also got a reprieve or two.  He got his truck running again and, after a night of rain, the sun came out in the morning.  He put in a full day's work and figures, again weather permitting, to finish up by Tuesday.  As the saying goes, God willing and the creek don't rise.  It rained again last night, but good weather is predicted for today.  Yay!

In the spirit of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, "guess who's sleeping in my bed."  This is about as close as I get to making my bed anymore.  Celeste was off rearranging her piglets somewhere in the house.  If she could, she, a la Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, would whistle while she works.  She makes up for it by singing.

Arden may come over this afternoon.  I can't offer her laundry service because I just haven't been able to face the fact that I may have to buy a new washing machine.  I plan to do a little load of just socks.  Who knows, I might get a reprieve, too.

Oh, yesterday was a red-letter day!  Michael headed down the drive (twice) and for the very first time, came back in response to "Come!"  Of course, it could have been the treats in my pocket.  I don't care.  He came!

Epidemic

Given that I have a somewhat lackadaisical approach to housework (and it being Arden Friday), I vowed not to get caught with my dust down again yesterday.  It rained all day.  Michael and I did our walks, but I was disinclined to replenish the porch wood, pulling the wagon in a drizzle or a downpour.  Knowing that Arden feels the cold more than most, I used what firewood there was to light up Stove early so the house would be warm for her.  I vacuumed, I dusted, I cleaned the kitchen.  I had the coffeepot ready to turn on when she drove up and had decided what to fix for a snack.  Man, I was ready!  I was on the last countdown when Arden called to say sorry, she wasn't coming.

I was still working in the kitchen when Mike called.  His truck had broken down and he didn't know when he could get here next.

It was a no-show epidemic.

There I was, sitting in my warm, shiny living room when I hit the panic button.  Yikes!  It's less than ten days until Christmas!  I have no idea if or when the Kids might be coming up.  I've done no shopping for groceries or gifts whatsoever, nor put up any decorations.  Talk about getting caught with your good intentions down!  I'm positive it was just yesterday when I flipped the page on the calendar, so how could this happen?!  I see a trip to town in my future, where I'm.sure I'll run into a herd of others who are late, late, late.

On a bright note, all I had to do was push the button on the coffeepot this morning.  That was a good start.

Thanks, Michael

The last few days I have been in my chair, eyes glued to the television, watching the impeachment hearings.  Regardless of which side of the political fence you sit, this is history in the making, albeit a dark mark.  I was working at the time of the Nixon and Clinton hearings, so I find this current event fascinating.

Were it not for Michael, I might not move all day, but when a guy tells you he's got to go, you hit the pause button and go.  It had rained all night, but it stopped shortly after dawn so we lucked out on our morning outing.  Michael is a patient trainer.  He now has me also going for a midday walk, an evening walk, and a brief walk before bed.  I don't know if he really has to go, but he can always squeeze out a few drops.  However, I made the mistake in the beginning of giving him a treat when we get back to the house.  Potty or treats, hmmm.

I keep a pocketful of mini milk bones for training purposes.  I don't know who's training whom, though.  As soon as Michael finishes his breakfast, it's time for school.  He comes running in from the kitchen to tell me so.  We've got "sit" and "down" cold, and we're working on "shake."  Sometimes he does it without a command because he wants another crunchy.  I'm learning.

A lot more rain was predicted than we got (more due today), so Mike has taken a couple of days off.  I am so ready for this project to be done, and I'm sure he is, too.

This photo should have been in yesterday's blog.  It's difficult to see, but Ralph had his arms (okay, forelegs) around Celeste's neck, giving her a hug.  They stayed that way for the longest time.  I'm so glad I took both kittens together.

I appreciate that Michael likes to sleep late in the morning, giving me time to mess around on the computer while it's dark.  About the time I've watched the morning news and am ready to start the day, he comes wandering down the hall and just about ready to go for walkies.  He definitely keeps me moving.  Thanks, Michael.

Hug Me Tight

Mentioning the hospital in Santa Ana the other day got me to thinking about my friend Beverly.  She was a staff member in Medical Records when I interned there.  Believe it or not, I tend to keep a low profile in any new circumstance, and I was definitely the newbie then.  I watched and listened, and I thought I could become friends with the large blond woman who had a smile for everyone.  Our fate was sealed the day we were working side by side at the card files.  (Oh, come on...computers were new then and not to be trusted.)  As I said, the MR department was in a cramped trailer and Miss Smith ran a tight ship...laugh on your own time.  Anyhow, Bev and I were shoulder to shoulder and I said, sotto voce, "You'd better stay on my good side today."  The look on her face!  "Why?"  "Because I only had enough deodorant for one arm."  Bev almost got in trouble with the redoubtable Miss Smith when she burst out laughing.  I knew then we were destined to become lifelong friends.

I was not raised in a demonstrative family.  I don't think I ever saw my father and mother kiss.  Even the kisses I received were brief and on the cheek.  Hugs were rare.  Given that background, I was a little uncomfortable with Bev at first.  She was a toucher.  She put her hand on your arm while talking.  She was a hugger.  Over time I not only got used to it, I found I liked that friendly human contact.  Beverly had three sons and I had my four Kids, pretty much in the same age group.  We used to have picnics and go to the beach together, and Deb and Bev's youngest son went to Deb's high school prom.  Bev went through some rough times, especially with her second husband, and I was glad to be there for her.  She was not a whiner.  She was a survivor.

Beverly had been invited when Steve and I got married, and I was a little hurt that she was a no-show with no word of why.  It turned out she had been rushing through the airport to catch her flight, slipped, fell, and broke both wrists.  Can you imagine both arms in casts?!  Think of all the things you couldn't do.  She did come to Sacramento when she was able, and made a number of visits up here.  Our friendship never flagged.  I was unbelievably sad when one of her sons let me know Bev had died.

I miss her hugs.

Meet And Greet

It was Take The Trash Down Tuesday.  I loaded up my stuff and Michael and off we went, a little earlier than usual.  There was an unfamiliar black pickup at the corner.  Turned out to be Chuck, a neighbor who lives one driveway up from mine and whom I rarely see.  He offered to drag one of the bins (it was a three-bin day) across the road for me, which I appreciated.  The deed done (two bins), we stood and talked for a bit.  We were still talking when Camille came driving down her driveway to move the third bin across and joined the chat room.

A word about trash bins:  I am so fortunate that Cam and I joined forces, as the county now demands that we use their bulky, heavy, wheeled bins and that they be on the paved road, and they can only be left there for one day.  I'd have a heck of a time if I had to load two into my truck every week.  One is for trash, the other for recyclables.  Cam lives on the corner of the dirt and paved roads, and we share.

I hadn't seen Cam in awhile and she hadn't met Chuck.  Turned out to be a meet-and-greet opportunity.  It was nearly dark when I got back home and Mike was just finishing for the day.  I don't talk to Mike when he's working.  He's got his head in the game and I wouldn't want to interrupt him.  It is my habit, however, when he's ready to leave to offer a cold beer (well-earned and which he rarely, well, never refuses) and we chat for a few minutes.  He'd run into more problems with the building of the house.  It wasn't just the deck corners that were out of whack.  I told him about one hospital I'd worked in Santa Ana where the medical records department was in a trailer in the parking lot because the architect hadn't designed space for it.  Mike said he'd been born in Santa Ana, and it turned out that he'd been born in that same hospital!  How's that for six degrees of separation?

Florence had called with a question about goats.  She got to meet two of them when they ambled onto her property.  Before I could return her call, the missing owners showed up to claim them and she met them, too.

It was one of those days.

Want A Ride?

Time does fly...and drag.  I may, from time to time, pull out the DeLorean and take a little trip "Back To The Future" (1985, Michael J. Fox, Christopher Lloyd) when not much is happening at Farview or I find myself getting too whiny.  I have written daily for nearly ten years (good grief!) and sometimes have trouble finding something new to scribble.  Having nearly eighty years of memories, I may fall back on some of them.  You are welcome to come along for the ride.

In the meantime (now I've got that song in my head...1921, Ain't We Got Fun), work on the deck goes on apace.  Mike arrived just after daylight yesterday.  Ohmigosh, I wish I could go out there now and take a picture of the sunrise this morning!  The sun isn't up yet, but there is a fiery red glow behind the hills in the east and it is spectacular!  I think Mike is finished with the south end, but I'm not sure and am not willing to take a chance until he gives me the green light.  Oh, I do so wish I could share what I'm seeing...the glow is spreading to the clouds overhead.

No, I didn't risk life or limb.  This was taken from inside the house by the living room door.  Wow!

Anyhow, Mike took a short lunch break and kept on going.  He worked until well after dark.  No, I'm not kidding.  He was sorting the discarded lumber by the headlights of his truck!  His name is Mike Dittrich, and I will be posting a high recommendation for him on FB.

My time this morning has flown by.  I'd better get dressed before Mike appears and I get caught in my all-together.

"In the meantime, in between time, ain't we got fun!"

Get Over It!

My dad had a way of putting things in perspective, "What will it matter a hundred years from now?"  One thing I've learned over time is that it is too darned depressing to stay depressed.  I couldn't quite bring myself to look for a new washing machine yet, but that's on the list.  The part for the vacuum cleaner is on the way, and the deck is Mike's purview.  Every so once in awhile, the universe lets me know I'm not in charge of much besides my attitude.

Michael and I got a good soaking on our morning walk.  Of course, the rain stopped as soon as we got back in the house.  It was as if Nature had spit in our eye and was satisfied with that.  Michael is so doggone smart.  All I had to do was bring out the chamois and he came running to get dried off.  Once or twice, and he's got any routine down pat.  He sent me off to sleep smiling last night.  After turning off the light, I was giving him a back and tummy rub as always, and he started humming.  There is no other word for it...Michael hums!

I found a packet of leftover sausage and peppers in the freezer for dinner.  I put it over some angel hair pasta and had a good, hot meal.  It hadn't rained again all day so maybe Mike can work on the deck again.  Michael went out for a late-night potty run alone and didn't take off down the driveway.

It was a good day.

Zip, Nada, Zilch

The rain and wind started sometime during the night yesterday.  There were a few breaks, but I didn't care.  Like a petulant child, what I wanted to do was sit in a corner and suck my thumb.  There certainly were things I could'a, should'a, would'a. but I just didn't want to.  I'm sure my daughter didn't want or need to hear my sniveling sob story when she called long before daybreak (our Saturday ritual), but it just came pouring out.  Boo hoo hooo.

As a result, I did a whole lot of nothing throughout the day.  I sure didn't want to look out at the wreckage of the deck...not even the good parts.  I thought about doing a trial run with the washing machine to see if it had healed itself overnight.  Thinking was as far as I got with that.  There were no Saturday cooking shows on.  They might have at least piqued my interest, but no.

The wind and rain came again in the night.  Fortunately, it's not a particularly cold storm so I'm not burning a lot of wood.  Having indulged in a day-long pity party, I'm ready to get back in the saddle and, like Don Quixote, tilt at windmills once again.  Or not.

Not So Merry Go-round

We all have them:  those times in life when everything seems to go kaflooey at once.

The good weather held yesterday.  Mike had rounded the bases and was in the home stretch when, you guessed it, he tore off the last of the boards and ran into another section of bad girders.  More time, more work, more money.  I don't know which of us was more disappointed.

Having told Arden that the washing machine hose had been replaced and to come over in the afternoon, I wanted to dust and vacuum.  Yeah, well.  The marvelous cordless vacuum cleaner that Deb and Craig had given me started pitching a fit.  I'm used to having to empty the canister after sweeping a ten-foot square.  I've also discovered that the thing has to be completely disassembled every so often because there are numerous hidey holes that can become plugged.  One such well-hidden hole was determined to thwart me yesterday.  It prevented anything from going into the canister.  After the umpteenth time of cleaning it out, I called the manufacturer.  I rarely lose my temper with any tech or rep.  After all, I need their help and want them on my side.  However, there are exceptions.  After over twenty minutes of telling me that I wasn't properly taking care of the machine ("But I did that, I do that, I wash the filter frequently"), she told me I was obviously trying to pick up items that were too big.  "What do you consider to be 'too big?'"  "Paper, sticks, things like that."  "Let me speak to your supervisor."  After a long wait, during which I'm sure the gal was presenting her side, the supervisor came on the line.  I explained the situation and what I had been told.  With no hesitation, the woman said she would send me a replacement part immediately.  So there, snotty girl!  I finished dusting just as Arden drove up.

I put her laundry in the washing machine and sat down to enjoy the lunch my friend had brought.  After an appropriate amount of time and not hearing any more sounds from the washer, I went back to check before telling Arden she could put her clothes in the dryer (our division of labor).  Imagine my dismay when I found the washer still full of water and not running.  Aarrgh!  Fiddling with the dials, I finally got the water to drain and get the spin cycle to run.  Mike was just packing up for the day.  "Mike, what do you know about washing machines?"  I explained what had happened.  "It's dying."  Not what I wanted to hear.

It was nearly dark before Arden was ready to leave.  I had to excuse myself to bring up a couple of wagons of wood, and again to take Michael for a walk.

It was a long day.

Wipeout

(Wipeout, by The Surfaris, 1963)

Yesterday is not a day that I'd want to do over.  It did not surprise me that I slept in until 6:30 this morning because I was completely wiped out.  First, it was a "pay bills" morning (aarrgh!).  Let me say that I loathe and detest (words reserved for the worst of the worst) the IT person who designed the new bill-pay page at AT&T.  I've been paying my bills online for years, including AT&T, without problems until now.  The new system throws you into an endless loop with no hope of success.  Trying to contact a real person is futile.  The phone company doesn't answer their phone!  Perseverance and a new vocabulary of cuss words and I finally got the deed done, but I was not happy.

That did not put me in a good mood for a trip to town, but it had to be done.  Wally World was out of one the meds that I had to pick up...totally out!  It would have to be back ordered with no date for delivery because the manufacturers were also out (and just how does that happen?).  It was suggested I call another pharmacy.  Okay, I did that, and found that one of my regular stops had the med in stock.  Oh goody.  Of course there was a glitch and we had to wait and wait.

Mike had shown up at the crack of dawn.  He took a few minutes out of his day to install the new hose for the washing machine, which I very much appreciated.  I never would have been able to do that by myself and Arden would have had to take her laundry elsewhere.

Michael and I took off.  Everything took longer than usual and I had extra stops to make.  Michael again dehydrated himself while I stood and waited by every bush and twig.  One thing about Michael, he is so darned cute that people who might otherwise be grumpy start smiling at him, and then they smile at me.  That's nice.

Missions accomplished, we got back just before Mike was ready to call it quits for the day.  He's only got today before the atmospheric river rolls in to drench us with rain again.  He's on the home stretch now and just about ready to turn the last corner on the deck.  Neither of us had anticipated that this would turn out to be the job from hell.

Then the worst.  Michael got sick.  He barfed and...had problems with the other end.  I lost track of how many times we had to go outside last night.  I hated to tell him that we could go no farther than the light from the porch, but facts are facts.  I can't see in the dark.  Finally his gut settled down and he could sleep.  I have no idea what had happened, but he came to bed and was able to sleep through the night.

I wasn't the only one wiped out.

Table For Two

Having heard the rain beetles bumping around the night before, I got another scare yesterday morning when I got up in the dark and saw a red glow just outside the bedroom window.  Fire?!  Mike had left two chargers for his cordless tools plugged in and placed on the ledge.  Whew!!  I hadn't noticed them at bedtime because of the lights in the room.

I've been keeping a food bowl on the deck for Missy and she rarely misses a meal, rain and Mike notwithstanding.  Yesterday I heard unfamiliar scratching noises outside.  Now what?  It seems the Steller's jays have returned and one had found Missy's dish and was helping himself.  Maybe I'll need a bigger dish and a table for two.

It rained steadily all day, sometimes light, sometimes hard, but thankfully without the wind.  Mike sensibly took a day off.  I found one of Steve's big puffy jackets to wear outside and replace the red hooded sweatshirt that is my "uniform" of the day.  (Think "The Woman In Red," Gene Wilder, Kelly LeBrock,  Charles Grodin - 1984.)  Michael and I timed it pretty well morning and night and went for our walks without getting drenched.  Michael is darned near waterproof, his fur is so dense water never gets near his skin.  A quick once-over with a fake chamois absorbs the surface droplets.

These rainy days are great, but we're not out of the woods when it comes to the trees.  (Huh?  Did I really say that?)  Sustained rain loosens the dirt around the oaks and that's when they fall.  Fingers crossed.

Who's There?

Having fallen asleep in the chair (again), it was a little unnerving to wake to small sounds out on the deck and tapping at the windows in the dark.  Feeling much like the narrator in Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" (1845), I wondered who or what was out there.  The cats were on high alert, so it wasn't my imagination.  Then I realized that a light rain was falling.  Of course!  The rain beetles were back above ground.  The rains of the past week or so were too hard to bring out these funny, bumbling, flying tanks.  I'm sure I'll find some on the porch this morning.

Poor Mike.  This has turned out to be one of those jobs where nothing goes right.  The damage to the girders was much greater than he'd thought, creating a lot more hard work and time, but it had to be done.  Now that he's laying the surface boards, he's finding that the amateurs who built the deck were very casual about 90-degree angles and it's driving Mike to distraction.  He's a perfectionist and wants everything "right."  I had to go to Mr. Aukum yesterday and asked if he needed anything.  "Yes, I need, oh, about twenty pounds of screws," and he handed me an example.  "They have to be just like this, with this kind of head, three inches long, and gold colored."  Sample in hand, Michael and I went to his favorite store.  Turns out Mt. Aukum has screws, but they weren't gold colored.  Since Mike had been so specific, I didn't get any.  I explained why when we got home.  "That's good because you would have noticed if the screws didn't match and I wouldn't have used them."  (Don't tell Mike, but I don't think I've ever really looked at a screw once it's in place.)

Even the weather has been against Mike.  Fierce wind and rain have caused delays.  He caught a break yesterday with warm sun and no wind at all.  He was back to working shirtless (he's recently moved here from Montana and thinks our sunny winter days are heavenly...when we get one).

Michael got a double treat, a ride to Mt. Aukum and another to take the trash down to the road.  Michael thought it was a good day.

Da Winnah!

"Da winnah and still champeen!," was the referee's cry as he'd hold up the triumphant boxer's hand.  (Do they still do that?)  Michael is taking our race as a daily thing now.  I swear he is grinning as I make my way to the porch well behind him.  To see him this happy, I wouldn't beat him even if I could.  (Ha!  As if I ever could.)  That gawdawful wind had pretty much died down when Mike got here, but there was still a drizzle of rain.  He insisted it wasn't going to stop him.  Hey, he's the professional.  Who am I to tell him no?  He figures to be done by Thursday.  I'm sure he'll be as glad to be done with this job as I will.  I know it's taken a lot longer than he originally estimated, and the weather definitely hasn't cooperated.  He was working shirtless when he started.  Yesterday he was wearing a parka. 

Mike wasn't the only one cold yesterday.  I'm not sure who is training whom here, but Michael looked cold so I tucked him in.  He seemed appreciative.  It made me think of my mother.  "I'm cold, honey, put on your sweater."

The computer has gone wonky and has lost it's alignment.  This photo at sundown is still worth sharing.  If the prognosticators are correct (and sometimes they are), we should have good weather for a day or two before the next storm hits.  One can hope, and we'll all be winnahs!

Not Working

Well phooey, all that chanting the night before didn't work.  For a short while, I thought it had.  The wind wasn't too bad for a spell during the day, but, boy, it was cold!  Michael, always so serious and all business, surprised the heck out of me on our morning walk.  He'd done his thing along our route, but we didn't go out in the west field, something he likes to do.  We were heading back and I said, "Yeah, Michael, let's get back in the house.  It's too cold out here"  Omigosh, his head and tail came up and he started dancing.  "You want to go back now, too?"  "I do, I do, I do!"  Fearing he might possibly run down the drive, I took off his leash.  "Okay, kiddo, go for it!"  Turned out he wanted to race me.  "Come on!  I can beat you!," as he headed up the walkway to the porch, stopping to look back and make sure I was coming (slowly).  "Oh, Michael, you win again!"  He was obviously pleased with himself.  We'll have to do that again.  It's the first spontaneous game he's wanted to play.

Stove reminds me of Audrey II, the voracious plant in The Little Shop Of Horrors (Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, 1986), whose tag line was, "Feed me!"  Stove has chomped his way through nearly two wagons of firewood in two days.  As long as I keep generously stuffing his maw, he keeps us warm.  I'd been giving him appetizers and he wanted a full meal.

Mike took yesterday off, but planned to come back today.  The wind came back like gangbusters last night.  It was blowing so hard at 3:30, it woke me up.  Unless it lets up, I'm going to tell Mike not to come.  I don't want him walking and working on those rain-slick boards in gale-force winds.  My chanting didn't work last night, either.

Chanting

"Wind, wind, go away (and stay away!)"  Yes, I know I'm taking liberties with an old childhood chant, but we need the rain and we sure don't need the wind.  A summer breeze is always welcome, but a howling wind is not.  It was cold yesterday and poor old Stove had his work cut out.  I lit the fire at 8 and, try as he might, he couldn't get the house warm until almost 4.

The view from my lap on a cold day.


Mike worked a long day on the deck and is making progress.  Many of the support joists were bad and needed reinforcement.  Of course, that slow and difficult work didn't show.  Now that he's laying the surface boards, it's going faster and looking good.

The previous storm had blown the tarps off the woodpile.  I brought three more wagonloads up to the porch (gotta keep Stove fed) and did my best to recover the firewood.  I have a wealth of cut wood this year and the pile is taller than I am, so that wasn't an easy job.

Mike called it quits about 5, just as the wind started kicking up, joined by a smattering of rain.  I'll say this for him, Mike is a workin' fool and isn't much deterred by weather.  I was glad Michael and I had gone for our walk a little early in the afternoon.

By bedtime, the wind was beating against the house and sounded like a freight train.  My personal pack (reminds me of a pack of huskies) snuggled up against me, nailing me in place, and my windy weather chant began.  "Please protect the trees and keep them all upright and branches in place.  Please let us keep electricity.  Please make the wind stop.  Please."  So far, all is good but for the gosh-awful wind.  I'll probably find the tarps in the next county.