Done And Done

Ta da!  Mike said let it be done and, lo, it was done!  We, and I do mean we, are ever so glad the deck project is finished.  The last brush strokes of sealer went down not too far before sundown yesterday, and Mike sat down for a well-earned rest and a cold beer.

At some point during the morning, I'd gone out and said, "Hey, Mike, you've got to see this!"  I opened the outside refrigerator and showed him an empty can of Mountain Dew with a large hole in the side I'd found a few days before.  No, it hadn't blown up.  From the droppings, he determined that a rat was making himself at home.  Ratso (Dustin Hoffman, Midnight Cowboy, 1969) had opened and drained another can, as well.  He was probably thirsty after a meal of Missy's cat food...turns out it was neither birds nor raccoons that were sharing her dish.  Coming back from his lunch break, Mike brought a can of some kind of foam stuff that he shot in the holes Ratso had made in the wall of the fridge.  Hopefully that will stop the latest freeloader.  In the meantime, there's a jazzed-up rodent with a bellyful of Mountain Dew running loose out there.  It could be worse, he could be drunk on beer.  Does it never end?

Stove had started huffing out smoke the last few fires and I knew the chimney needed sweeping.  This break in the winter weather isn't going to last and Stove's vacation will be over.  Mike's primary work is as a carpenter, but he agreed to help out with some of Helper Dude's stuff.  He'll be back today to take on the chimney.  Good man.

The sky hadn't been this spectacular when Michael and I had our last walk, but I saw the glow later and went out to catch this view.

I know what I'll be doing today, restoring the deck and cleaning the fridge.  At least I'll have the deck bench to sit on and take a breather.

Frog Song

Walking with Michael on a sunny winter morning was just what the doctor ordered to soothe my worried mind.  It should come as no surprise that so-serious Michael has a set routine on our walks that rarely varies.  I keep him on a very loose leash and he can wander at will, within reason.  We stop on the downslope while he sniffs the air and surveys the terrain.  Moving on, he has to check out what's going on at the winery.  Not much happening there in the morning, but there might be wine tasters and cars in the afternoon and that's pretty interesting.  As we walk around the drive, Michael, like his predecessor Bessie Anne, stops for a bite of grass salad in the morning, dressed with dew.  (I used to think dogs ate grass to induce vomiting; 'taint so.  Some dogs just like it.)  He checks out the goats and we count the vultures (over twenty almost every day now).  The big birds are so used to us that they sit on their posts until we're about eight feet away.  Even then, they just move a post down.  We're no threat.  Michael practices his fire-fighting skills by watering down the burn pile in the west field, and moves on to his favorite spot at the corner of the defunct garden area.  From that vantage, he can see all the way to the neighbors'.  If he's lucky, there might be horses, alpacas, a donkey or two, and maybe a goat in the acres of pasture.

We had stopped there yesterday on a very quiet morning.  Standing there, I realized it wasn't quiet at all.  What sounded like thousands of frogs were singing, singing in a very loud chorus somewhere at the bottom of the hill.  That's not something you'd hear in the city.

Mike is coming today, hopefully, to finish the deck.  Stanley did call yesterday with helpful advice.  I made it to the grocery store.  Michael joyfully won the race again.  And the frogs are singing.

It was a good day.

What We Have Here...

"What we have here is a failure to communicate."  (Strother Martin's famous line from Cool Hand Luke, 1967)

The mortgage company is driving me to distraction with misinformation.  On one of the last calls made on Monday (the first call had been disastrous), I was told that "Stanley" would call me "tomorrow" (yesterday).  Consequently, I did not go the store.  This is important stuff and I did not want to miss his call.  I took refuge in the usual way; I napped long and hard, believing Shakespeare's line, "Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care" (Macbeth, 1606).  I dunno, I awoke still feeling pretty "ravell'd," and Stanley hadn't called.  Thomas had sent me a packet to fill out via computer, but I hadn't opened it, waiting to hear from Stanley.  (Try to keep up here, the list of players is long and keeps changing.)  I called the company again and spoke to Steven, who told me that Stanley would not call until I'd sent the packet back to Thomas.  Aarrgh!

By then it was too late to go to the store.  The litter box is getting pretty littered so, regardless, I will go today.  Michael came to the rescue again.  Taking him out for the last walk of the day, I was going over all that I hadn't gotten done and suddenly it came to me that it was Tuesday and I still hadn't taken the trash down to the road.  If I'd stayed in the house, it would not have occurred to me.  It had been another day full of aarrghs.  Putting Michael and the trash bag in the truck, we took off, by then needing headlights to see in the dark.

Michael again won the race to the porch.  Yay, Michael!

Stumbling

Gung ho! turned into oh no! yesterday when I opened a notice from the mortgage company and discovered the new insurance policy had raised my house payment by an exorbitant amount this year.  Deemed a high-fire area here, California Fair was the only insurance I could get and, believe me, there is nothing "fair" about it.

It was a huge stumbling block in the way of my plan of taking even baby steps in progress because I spent most of the day talking back and forth between companies, at one point even having the companies talking to each other.  There does not appear to be a way out of this dilemma.  It was/is a nightmare.

Michael is a blessing in so many ways.  I might have felt like pulling the covers over my head, but Michael needed walks, so out we went.  He snooped on the neighbors, we watched and listened to the birds, and got some exercise and fresh air.  Even though he walks on a leash, I know he likes to race me (ha! can you see me "racing?") back to the house, so I've begun unclipping his lead when we get to the front walkway and telling him, "I'm gonna beat you today, Michael!"  He takes off like a shot, turning when he gets to the porch to watch me stumbling up the path, and he grins.  Everybody needs a win now and then.  This photo was taken as we stepped out the door for our last walk of the day.  It's a winner.

Baby Steps

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."  (Lao Tzu, Chinese philosopher.)

See it-Do it was a good thought, but it was too easy to shut my eyes so I didn't see it, whatever "it" might be.  I've gotten so good at procrastination it is now a lifestyle, and it (I) must change.  To quote William Ernest Henley, "I am the master of my fate" (Invictus,  1875), and I need to take command here.  There was no sense charging headlong into the project like the Light Brigade (1854, Alfred, Lord Tennyson), so yesterday's journey into adulthood began with baby steps.  Not everything got done (don't be silly!), but I made a start, and have a plan to continue today.  I'll call that progress, albeit slow.

I also need to do a re-think on leaving home.  Michael really enjoys going to town, and that's contagious.  Who rescued whom here?  Today's trip to the grocery store won't be as much fun because he's not allowed to go there, but go I must because I'm out of cat litter.  There are some things I can do without.  Cat litter is not one of them.

It was still misty and drizzling on our first walk of the day and we double-timed it back to the house.  The sun came out, the sky turned blue, and Michael and I actually went for three more walks later on.  I know what you're thinking.  No, I was not putting off doing another chore, it was just nice to be outside.  Camille even called to tell me that dry days are predicted for the whole week, giving hope that Mike might finish the deck.

In the spirit of turning over a new leaf, things to do, places to go!

Drip Drip Drip

"Like the drip, drip, drip of the raindrops when the summer shower is through."  (Lyrics to Night And Day, Cole Porter, 1932.)  Okay, it's not summer, but that is the song of the day.

Where is Helper Dude when I need him?  How dare he grow up, get a job, get married and move away without so much as a by-your-leave?  This current rain is the good kind; soft and gentle and no wind.  Here in the dark o' morn, if it weren't for the constant drip, drip, drip from leaf-clogged gutters, I might not even know it was raining.  Helper Dude could have at least left me a brother-in-training to take on some such chores.  I'm going to miss him more when the chimney needs cleaning.

It's a good thing Mike and I conferenced and decided he would hold off on sealing that last section of deck yesterday.  It would have been for naught.  I don't know which of us will be more glad when this job is finished.

Yesterday was filled with cooking shows, horse racing, and catching up on long-overdue paperwork.  Procrastination comes with its own penalties.  It's still January, so maybe it's not too late to make a New Year's resolution.  Hmmm.

Drip.  Drip.  Drip.

Old Tricks

Nature is up to her same old tricks again, and I can't say I care much for her sense of humor.  After several days of good weather, Mike was due to finish the deck yesterday.  So what did the old girl do?  She made it rain the night before so Mike had to postpone (can't seal wet wood).  He said if the sun came out, he'd reschedule for today.  The sun came out, but more rain is due tonight.  The sealer has to dry to be effective.  I anticipate another postponement.  Nature knows how much I want this project over and done with and she's just plain mean.

The computer gremlins were being cranky this morning, not allowing me access to files.  I know how to deal with them.  A couple of normal shutdowns didn't do it, so I temporarily cut off their supply of electricity.  Ta da!

It occurred to me that Missy was eating an inordinate amount of food for such a little cat.  I've been filling her bowl every morning with the same amount of kibble that it takes Ralph and Celeste two days to empty.  Missy ought to be waddling around like a baby hippo.  I heard noises on the deck the other day and went to check.  Steller's jays had discovered the outdoor buffet and were helping themselves.  If the jays start purring, I'll know why.  Once upon a time we were plagued with raccoons that were eating the cat food.  I'll settle for the birds, and I'm sorry I blamed Missy of gluttony.

Michael is on to Celeste's tricks.  She headed toward his favorite bed again last night.  Michael saw her and pushed her out of the way to get there first.  I swear I saw that dog smirk.

What I Do Best

Most of yesterday was spent doing what I do best, staying out of the way of people who know what they're doing and are on a mission to get it done.  Florence and Dan arrived close to midday.  Not only was it good to see them again, but they came bearing gifts:  a box of precision-cut kindling for Stove and home-baked goodies from George.  There was a plate of iced cake squares, and I can only imagine how my eyes lit up when I saw a buttermilk pie.  My daddy had grown up as a Texas sharecropper and buttermilk pie was a Texas staple.  I still have and have used my grandmother's recipe many times.

Not ones to dawdle, Florence and Dan set to work cutting lumber to length, loading their trailer, and setting fire to the burn pile.  "How can I help?"  "Sit over there and keep us company."  What a nice way to say we don't need you, but thanks.  We chatted and laughed while they got the job done.  All those scrap boards were either loaded or burned and my yard is my yard again.  Mike plans to come today to finish sealing the deck, and then these major projects will be complete.

Michael takes every opportunity when my attention is elsewhere and he's off leash to take off down the drive and go exploring.  I'm not so worried anymore that he won't come back and since Beau and his family moved there's not much traffic on the road, but people up here tend to pick up "strays" and take them to the pound.  I wouldn't want Michael to go through that.  I think Michael really feels at home here now.  He comes bounding up the hill and comes directly to my side.  He's my dog now.

This looks like an uninteresting picture of a sleeping cat.  It's what happened just before that had me laughing.  Michael has only five places to sleep in the living room (two couches and three dog beds), six if you count the floor.  He moves from one place to the other as the mood strikes him.  Last evening, Celeste had taken one of his "bestest" spots.  Michael wanted it.  He stood looking at her for a minute, then poked her with a paw.  Celeste, queen that she is, ignored him.  He waited, sighed, and moved on to the couch.

I had buttermilk pie for dinner.

Another Day

I'm embarrassed to say I took another day off, but I did.  I wish I'd done more to earn it.  Yes, well, as I've said before, if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.  Ohmigosh, that made me think of another episode in my life that also took two days to recover.

A prior neighbor, Carol, asked me to go horseback riding with her.  She knew I'd had horses as a kid and had always had a fondness for the creatures.  I said sure, as long as we wouldn't be gone long because it was probably forty years since I'd ridden.  She assured me we wouldn't.  I walked down the long hill to her house, helped saddle up, and off we went.  A short ride to Carol turned out to be an hour and a half, that's a lo-o-ng ride for someone who is out of practice.  We came back to her house where her husband and his nephew, also a neighbor, were talking.  I dismounted, only to find that my legs no longer worked!  At all!  I didn't mind the laughter, but I envisioned having to crawl back up what now seemed like a mountain to get home because I sure couldn't walk.  Nephew kindly offered to drive me home and you'd better believe I accepted.  That was probably twenty-plus years ago and it took two days to recover then.  Carol never asked me again.

It's a good thing there isn't too much lumber left to go through today.  Florence and Dan are coming back and I think it will be more loading than sorting.  I'm sure out of shape for the shape I'm in.

Well Done

If it had not been for Michael and his need to go for walks, and trash day which mandated a trip to the big road, I probably would not have moved yesterday.

In essence, I did nothing all day...and I did it very well.

PS:  Thanks for the tip on the cookies.  Michael had those two and his supply was cut off.  No wonder he liked them, they are delicious!

PPS:  Okay, Tinka can outdo me.  Does it count that I have seniority over her, too?  Cut me some slack, youngster!

Feeling It

Trips to town and to the grocery store and I was still ill-prepared for yesterday's events.  Of course, I didn't know then I was going to need hot dogs and marshmallows.  The weather had held and Mike came late (for him) in order to let any night moisture to dry off on the deck.  One thing Mike is not is a dawdler and he went right to work.  It is a big structure and sealing it was going to take time.  Florence and Dan came about 1 or so to select any usable lumber left, some discarded weathered boards and odds and ends of the new stuff.  Turned out there was quite a lot for projects at their place.  It was a win-win all around.

There had been two huge piles of wood in the back yard.  Florence and Dan had gone through some of it on their last visit, but there was even more this time.  One thing I will not do by myself is set fire to a burn pile, the danger of it getting away from me is too great.  With four of us here, there was safety in numbers and they lit one and it went off like Vesuvius.  I can't say I was much help, but did carry unwanted wood from one pile to another while Dan used a table saw to cut usable lengths and Florence stocked their trailer with the good stuff.  Holy cow, the heat from the burn pile was ferocious!  Even if I'd had marshmallows, we couldn't have gotten near enough to toast them.  As Florence said, though, it was a perfect day for this kind of work.  It was overcast, but not hot and not cold, and there was no wind.  Mike agreed.

Michael was delighted to see his friends again, and their housemate, George, had sent a packet of homemade dog biscuits that immediately became Michael's favorite.  I'm not exactly jealous, but it pleased me no end that Michael came to sit by me at break time.  (I will admit I took more breaks than anyone, claiming seniority.)

Mike ran out of sealer (the vendor had miscalculated how much would be needed) just about the time Florence and Dan ran out of steam.  I had called it quits before the others, my supply of steam being much lower.  We decided, weather permitting, that we'd meet later this week and do it all over again.  There is a lot more wood for my friends, and a lot more to burn, and Mike needs to get more sealer.

I don't know about the others, but when rolling out of bed this morning, I was feeling it in every bone and muscle, the result of a sedentary lifestyle.  I know what I'll be doing today, which is exactly nothing.

It was a good, very productive day.

Needs Must

Procrastination is an art and takes time to perfect.  I've been at it for a long while now and I'm getting pretty good at it, if I do say so myself, but there's always room for improvement.  Having successfully put off going to town for four or five days, necessity demanded that Michael and I go yesterday.  Rather than rush into it, I managed to dawdle until after noon.  That turned out to be a good thing, because Mike, the deck dude, showed up out of the blue.  He'd been doing a lot of work for Camille and then took off for a vacation in Las Vegas.  The wet, windy weather of late would have prevented sealing the deck until now, so I wasn't worried.  I am, however, very glad he's back.  With deck furniture, pots and planters of all sizes, and a lot of et cetera piled here and there and blown about by the gales, this place was looking like a homeless encampment and I'll be so very glad to get back to normal (that's a relative term if ever there was).  Weather permitting, Mike plans to finish the job today.  Yay!  I'll be so happy to pull the lawn chair out of the juniper bushes where it had become firmly wedged during one of the big blows.

Mike left and took my last excuse with him.  Michael gets so excited, as excited as Michael gets, when I pull his official ESA jacket out.  Michael likes going to town.  There are all those wonderful sniff-and-piddle spots, and he's really good at making friends wherever we go.  People are drawn to him, I think, because of his exceptional good looks and calm demeanor.  There is simply no aggression in this boy.

I'm happy to be known now as Michael's chauffeur, much as I'd rather not drive to town.  Needs must.

Who's There?

Finishing up at the computer just after the sun was fully up yesterday, I heard a thump on the deck.  I glanced out but didn't see anyone or anything.  I was pretty sure I'd heard it, but maybe not.  No, there it was again, followed by a few running footsteps.  Who was out there?  By then I was out of the chair and checking windows.  Again, nothing.  Hmmm.  And then the stalker showed himself by flying up to the deck rail.  It was a big tom turkey, the leader of a gang that had been lurking down below and which burst into a chorus of displeasure when he reported there was no breakfast to be found.  The majority sang out in high-pitched wheet-wheet-wheets, joined by baritone gobble-gobbles.  They let me know in no uncertain terms that the service was pretty lax at this establishment.

This is a lousy photo, but there was another guest on the deck yesterday morning.  Missy is making herself quite at home now.  She met Michael and me by the front porch when we finished our walk, and then raced around the deck to where her food bowl is.  I'd had the foresight to fill it before taking Michael out.  Tummy full, she came to sit and watch the house cats inside.  I think it's curiosity and not envy.  She's a free spirit and comes and goes as she pleases.

I'm not the only one asking who's there.  The owls outside in the dark ask it over and over, "Who, who, who?"

Change Partners

Friday seems to have become my day for company.  Usually it's Arden, but one of her grandchildren was home from college and she didn't want to miss time with her so she was a no-show yesterday.  I'd told Camille that I had recorded the last Democratic debate and she wanted to see it, and yesterday was the day.  It's been quite a while since Cam has visited.  She brought Honey, her big German shepherd, who has been here many times in the past, but had not met Michael.  The dogs did the usual meet-and-greet ceremony.  Michael was polite, but not interested.  Honey was disappointed that he didn't want to play, but he curled up by my feet in protection mode and declined her invitations.  Cam had suggested Michael might like to come to her place for a play date with her dogs.  Hmmm.  Michael doesn't seem to have much play in his repertoire.

If I hadn't seen it, I might not have believed it had snowed the day before.  Every vestige was gone by daybreak.  Now that's the way to have winter.

It was good to spend time with my friend.

Sea Change

(Sea change:  drastic transformation.)

All was calm in the dark o' morn, until it wasn't.  Just before daylight, the wind hit the house like a freight train, howling and battering at the windows like a live thing bent on destruction.  When Michael and I went out later, a stinging rain began as if it had been lying in ambush, and then was joined by hail like shotgun pellets.  Michael made a few quick pit stops, finished his business, and ran, did not walk, back to the house.  Knowing I was meeting Arden and Camille later for lunch, it seemed only kind to light a fire early for the house kids.  Yeah, well.  Stove was doing his best, but the wind was so strong it was pushing smoke down out of the vents, not letting it up the chimney and filling the room.  It seemed like an exercise in futility to light a fire for heat and then opening the front door.  It didn't take too long for Stove to take control, thank goodness.

By noon when we ladies met, there was a smattering of snow hitting the windshield.  The restaurant was warm, the company was warmer, and we enjoyed a leisurely lunch.  We watched the snow come down harder, but in big, soft, fluffy flakes.  It was as if we were seeing a real-life snow globe.

By the time I got home, there was maybe an inch of white on the deck, and I was very glad I'd banked the fire before leaving.  Michael didn't need any urging to go for another walk, but sure didn't dawdle.  With his thick, thick fur, all he had to do was give a good shake to rid himself of the flakes.  Me, I had to change jackets.

As fast as the storm had blown in, it was gone.  It looks pretty good this morning.  Of course, I said that yesterday, too.

Wake-Up Call

Well, that was weird.  I'd written a full paragraph and boop. it was gone!  Gonna be one of those days, I guess.  Ah, well, if at first you don't succeed....

As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have no trouble waking up early without benefit of an alarm clock.  One thing I cannot do is lie abed.  Once the eyes open, I struggle past the sleeping, reluctant cats to get up, slide on those comfy Christmas slippers, and shuffle into the bathroom.  Sitting down in winter in there (being of the female persuasion) is an experience like no other.  WOW!  It's like sitting on an iceberg.  Talk about a wake-up call!  I would rather ease into the day, but with a jump start like that. it's best to get moving.  And so my day begins.

Looking closely at my list, I was able to persuade myself that I could put off the dreaded trip to town for another couple of days.  (I know, I know, there will be a day of reckoning.)  The predicted storm has held off and there is no snow this morning.

The computer is really wonky today.  Rather than lose another segment, I'll finish up so I can fight (or write) another day.

Wholey Holey

At first I wasn't quite sure what this was.  Turned out to be a fallen branch that the woodpeckers had had their way with, big time.  I hear them all day and have found other evidence of their work, but never anything to this extent.  It looks like someone had used the branch for machine gun practice.  This is the outer, what would have been the bark side.

And this is the inside, where the holes are even bigger and the core is gone.

It's a good thing my grandson Jake is a grown man now, in the Air Force and living in Oklahoma.  When he was a little boy, a city kid, I would send him "country" things:  a squirrel's nest made of shavings from the woodpile, an outgrown snakeskin, maybe one of Louie's teeth I'd found.  Stuff I thought a boy would find interesting and could take to school for Show-and-Tell.  Turned out he thought his grandma had slipped a cog.  I won't be sending this branch to him.

The wind yesterday had brought along some rain, but it all went away by daybreak so Michael and I didn't get a soaking.  If the weatherman is right, that will come tomorrow.  We're to expect snow down to 2,000 feet; I'm at 24-2,500.  That means Michael and I will have to go to town today while the roads are still dry.  He enjoys these outings.  I do not.

Blip!

I was watching the morning news...and then I wasn't.  The power had gone out.  Rather than sit and contemplate the day's possibilities which, without electricity or water, left dusting (gah!), I took Michael for a walk.  PG&E said the problem should be fixed by one o'clock, so that wasn't too bad.  I get a kick out of their recorded message, which tells me that I can check progress by going online at any time.  How'm I supposed to do that without electricity?

Tinka called and we were chatting when, ta da!, the power came back on!  It had only been out for a couple of hours.  Compared to some of the days-long outages, this was nothing but a blip.

Lonesome Lulu seems to be coping with solitude.  I don't know whether she misses Rotten Stanley or if she is glad to see the last of that tyrant.  She looks forward to breakfast, and now talks to me when I enter her pen, which she never did before.

There is a strong wind blowing this morning, but it seems to come in spurts rather than constantly beating against the house.  I can't say I'm looking forward to taking Michael out later, but if it doesn't get any worse, it's doable.

Snug Bug

My timing was off yesterday, par for the course anymore.  There is a news show I watch on Sunday mornings, putting it on DVR so I can pretend to attend to business.  Making the mistake of watching it live meant I was late taking Michael for his first walk of the day, and it all went downhill from there.

Do I go to the grocery store today, or can it wait?  Hmmm.  I'd asked myself that question on Friday and still hadn't gone (never do today what can be put off until tomorrow) so the situation was becoming critical, coffee and kitty litter being top priorities.  Okay, fine.

Do I light the fire before leaving?  Hmmm.  Stove needs attention when a fire's burning and I'm not comfortable leaving him unattended.  If I'd put Stove to work earlier, I could have shut the damper and he'd have kept the house critters warm without flames.  I took Michael for another walk, made my apologies, and left.

With snow looming, the store was busy, busy, busy with others preparing for being housebound, and shopping took much longer than usual.  I'd thought I was being so efficient by writing my list in the order of where items were together in the aisles, e.g., coffee, cocoa, and cider (winter necessities) so as not to waste time backtracking.  Yeah, well.

The sky was lowering when I got home and there was just enough time before dark to unload the truck and take Michael for his last walk of the day, but not enough to bring more wood to the porch.  Even though the temperature was plummeting, I'd have to make do with what was there.  As if Stove was aware of my plight, he was voracious as he gobbled up log after log to punish me.  Michael couldn't have curled up any tighter.  How's that for a guilt trip?  I tucked his blanket around him, he sighed and relaxed, snug as a bug in a rug.

Don't Give Up

This tree in the front pasture is a prime example of the will to live.  It has been in this hollow-core condition for at least the last 23 years, as long as I've lived here, and who knows how long before.  With all the dead-but-solid and the living, healthy trees that have fallen on the property, one would think this one would have been the first to go, but it still hangs on.  I look out after every storm, expecting to see it on the ground.  The heartwood is completely gone.  All that is left is the cambium and bark.  Still, every spring the branches leaf out, proclaiming, "I'm still here.  I'm still alive.  Don't give up on me!"

Thanks to the Kids and Neighbor Joe I have a wealth of firewood this year, but can't break the habit of conservation.  It's a rare day, usually the wet ones, that I call Stove into service before sundown.  Yesterday afternoon it was actually warmer outside than in and I had the front door open.  Camille had called and we were discussing the state of the world, including the fact that the wild things are having a hard time finding food these days, partly due to it being winter and also because more and more population has moved into the area.  I was enjoying the sunlight streaming in when suddenly I almost dropped the phone.  A coyote was trotting leisurely on the driveway right in front of the door!  That's not an everyday sight.  Places to go and things to do, it didn't even turn its head toward the house.  In view of our conversation, Camille wondered it the creature was on its way to her place for a dinner of the local (raw) version of KFC.  Her flock free ranges on a couple of acres and would be a prime target.  Her dogs did not sound the alarm.  Michael didn't even lift his head.

I don't know if Celeste is feeling insecure or whether she just wants a warm lap, but she is like a limpet.  When I get up, she follows me from room to room, crying piteously.  Cats have no concept of personal space.  There is absolutely no way to keep her from fitting herself somewhere onto my lap, sometimes in what looks like impossible positions.  She doesn't give up.

Thwarted

Good intentions were the road to nowhere yesterday.  Oh, I got a few things accomplished before Arden's arrival, leaving the vacuuming to last.  It's an exercise in futility to do it early.  Take Michael for one walk and he brings in dry leaves to decorate the house.  Stamp and wipe as I might, damp sandy soil collects in the tread of my shoes, enough that I could declare the living room beachfront property.  The cats had torn up tissue paper confetti so that it looked like a New Year's party the day after.  Okay, I'm exaggerating, but you get the idea.

Some time back I had trouble with the vacuum cleaner.  That's when I called the company and Snippy Miss told me everything I was doing wrong.  Her supervisor promised to send me a new part to fix the problem.  It took forever to get here, so long, in fact, that I'd called again to ask why.  Snippy Miss, Jr., said, "Well, it's been shipped."  "Yes, I got notification when it was shipped, but it's been well over the time indicated and I still don't have it."  "Well, it's been shipped."  Is there special training school specializing in Rude?

Dave always stops at the mail box before heading to the house, so I know the part arrived on December 28 (shipped on the 9th).  I'd been making do with the vacuum as it was, but glad there was hope on the horizon.  I put the new part in yesterday.  Yeah, well.  The old part may have spewed dust, but the new part stopped the vacuum from running at all.  Thwarted, I did that thing we all do when a light bulb blows out (flip the switch again and again).  I took the part out and put it back in several times.  Nope, nothing.  I can't tell you how much I'm not looking forward to calling the company again.  Totally aside, I get a kick out of the word 'thwart.'  Say it three times fast and you'll smile.

The best I could do for Arden was to pick up Michael's fluffs and most of the leaves by hand, and hope that her eyesight was bad enough or that she was kind enough not to mention the rest.

Ding Dong

There was a song in my head yesterday morning, but I didn't feel good about it.  Think of the Munchkins in The Wizard Of Oz celebrating when the house fell on their archenemy, but with my words.  "Ding Dong, the rooster's dead...."  Never before in my life have I felt anything but sorrow when an animal in my care has died.  Rotten Stanley was the exception.  I could not bring myself to shoot him, nor ask anyone else to do him in, but he took all the joy out of having chickens.  He never went out of attack mode, so it was a case of open the gate, throw in the food, and make my escape.  Filling the waterer was an exercise in fear.  Having been nailed twice, with copious bleeding, I couldn't turn my back on him ever and I was most vulnerable when both hands were needed to carry the water.  When Michael and I were on our walks, I would look for Stanley in the pen.  "Rats, he's still there."  Yesterday, I didn't see him.  Afraid he might be hiding in ambush, I took Michael around to the back of the pen where I could see into the little coop.  He was in there, but stretched out flat.  That's when the song began playing.

One of the hens had predeceased Rotten Stanley.  That leaves just the one girl, now named Lonesome Lulu.  Chickens are social creatures, and I feel bad for her, but maybe now she and I can bond.  Or, maybe best for her, I will give her to Camille to put in with her flock.  We'll see.

This is my kind of winter.  Rain (minus the wind) at night, clearing by daybreak.  Michael didn't need his overcoat yesterday.  Cold, yes, but Stove can handle that.  It looks good for today, with more rain predicted tomorrow.  Arden is coming over this afternoon, so she won't get soaked, and that's a good thing.

Ding Dong.

Moderation

It's raining.  Again.  However, if it stays like this I won't complain.  It's just rain, it's not a storm.  In anticipation, I brought another load of wood to the porch yesterday so we're good to go.  Deb and Craig (actually, it was their cat, Clyde) gave Michael a plaid raincoat for Christmas and he will look quite natty when we go for a walk later today.

I've never known such a people magnet before.  I've had cute dogs, beautiful dogs, all good dogs, but none who've drawn strangers like Michael.  We made stops at his two favorite stores yesterday.  One was the Cookie Store.  We all know how he feels about that one.  The other was up at Gray's Corner, where they have wonderful plants in front and Michael feels it is his duty to water at least three every time we go there.  He's also trained the clerks at Gray's to give him a biscuit, so for him it's a two-fer outing.  At both shops, people, men and women, come to talk to him, comment on his manners, ask to pet him, and end up talking to me.  Michael takes it all in stride as his due.

I used to keep medium-size biscuits for Dogie and Bessie Anne.  I've been using the tiny ones to train Michael because he seems satisfied with them and he gets a number of them throughout the day.  I'd been buying a pound at a time, but yesterday I broke down and bought a 20-pound box.  He knows sit, down, shake, and the sign for all gone.  We're still working on "here to me!"

See It-Do It is working pretty well.  There's no sense in overdoing it, of course.  Like Michael and his cookies...all things in moderation.

A Place In The Sun

(A Place In The Sun, 1951, Elizabeth Taylor, Montgomery Clift)

Another cold, cold day.  Celeste and Ralph vied for the bit of morning sun to try to get warm.

Michael spent most of the day in the dog house (figuratively).  He went down the driveway not once, but twice!  He's been so good lately that I thought I could trust him.  I was wrong.  He missed out on the trip to take the trash down to the road.  He knew he'd done wrong and spent the rest of the day in the bedroom in self-imposed exile.

As cold as it was, it's predicted to get even colder so more wood to the porch was in order.  As long as I was doing that, I thought I might as well build a fire.  Stove obliged and it wasn't long before Ralph and Celeste were stretched out by the hearth.  They ended the day the way they began, getting warm.

Attitude

They say attitude is everything.  Hmmm.  Okay, I can go with that.  Instead of saying I had a do-nothing day, I'm changing that to having an "intermission."  Doesn't that sound better?  It implies I might actually get back to doing something.  I suppose several days of intermission could be called a vacation.  It's all in the terminology...or the attitude.

I've been going to bed and instead of counting sheep, I've been berating myself for all the things I didn't do during the day and, believe me, it's a pretty long list.  With an attitude adjustment, I can change that to a list of accomplishments, a much shorter list to be sure, but hopefully one that will send me to sleep smiling.  After all, even on a do-nothing an intermission day, some little chores get done.

One thing I'm really going to have to work on is my attitude regarding going to town.  That's a real toughie.  I can't promise I'm going to skip lalala out to the truck instead of dragging my feet, but I can try to work up some enthusiasm.  Calling it Michael's Day Trip might help.

Yesterday was an intermission.

Monday

Yup, I'm pretty sure it's Monday.  I'm reassured because Dave and I watched the Vikings narrowly beat the Saints (woohoo!) on Sunday football yesterday.  We often do this when the Vikings play, texting messages of exhilaration or commiseration during the game.  It's more fun to watch with someone.

There was a song we sang when I was a Girl Scout (ohmigosh, that was a long, long time ago) that said "Monday's wash day...."  This week, wash day was Saturday, and Sunday, and there's enough left over for Monday, too.  I did wash the slipcover for the couch, but had a spot of trouble putting it back on.  It's like a Chinese puzzle.  I'll try again today.

Deb and Craig gave everyone slippers this year.  Instead of plaid, the boys' were patterned with pizza and burgers.  I put mine on last night for the first time.  So soft and warm!  Years ago Steve gave me sheepskin slippers with the fleece inside.  They won't wear out, but the fleece is gone and they are well past warm.

The vultures have returned from vacation.  Yesterday they lined not only the goat pen, but another fifteen or so were perched on what is left of the fence by the front pasture.  The raucous crows have also come back in numbers.  Vultures are silent, crows are anything but.

Missy is becoming bold.  She walks the deck with a sense of impunity, peering in and driving the house cats crazy.  Yesterday Michael and I were ready to come back into the house when he stopped.  There was Missy nose to nose with Michael on the front porch!  It's a good thing he's the calm dog that he is or there could have been a real brouhaha.  It didn't hurt that he was still on the leash.

It was another beautiful day for our walks.  Hard to believe that snow is predicted for next weekend.  Nature isn't through with us yet, it seems.

What Day Is It?

I feel like that camel in the commercial who goes through the office asking, "What day is it?!"  I still don't have a calendar.  Just to add to my general confusion, my daughter called this morning, and it's not Saturday.  I know it's not Saturday because the repairman came yesterday, so yesterday was Saturday.  Oh well.

I am so very glad I called for the repairman instead of going ahead and shopping for a new washing machine, as I'd thought.  He wasn't here a half hour, put in one little part, and was gone, and it was a tiny fraction of what a new washer would have cost.  I did several (overdue) loads of laundry and that spurred me to get going on some other neglected chores.

Michael is doing a very good job of training me.  After a walk, he knows he'll gets a treat.  I know this because he will sit expectantly by the door and wait.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Michael.  I forgot," and I hurry to get one of several kinds on hand.  That stimulates his appetite and he has a bite of breakfast, after which he comes to sit in front of my chair.  "And what do you want, Mr. Bright Eyes?"  He moves closer to me and looks pointedly at my pocket, the pocket where I keep little milk bones.  If I'm slow on the uptake, he lifts a forepaw to shake.  (And I thought I was training him.)  "Okay, kiddo, here."  He stands up and then does "sit."  Another treat.  And he waits.  He waits for the third treat just for being a good boy, which he gets and then goes away.  It's nice to know I'm still trainable.

The rain that threatened yesterday did not materialize and it turned out to be a lovely day, and it looks like today is going to be a repeat.  That means I can wash the couch slipcover and hang it on the line to dry.  Until I had company last week and they sat there and got up covered in cat hair, I didn't realize it had gotten so bad.  I don't sit there, after all.

This burst of ambition may not last, so I'd best take advantage while it's here.  Hmmm, I'm pretty sure it's Sunday.  Isn't that supposed to be a day of rest?  Get thee behind me, I've got things to do!

Days Of Our Lives

(It seems I'm hung up on soap operas I've never seen.  Days Of Our Lives began in 1965 and, believe it or not, it's still going.  Gonna try hard to stay away from General Hospital.)

The days of my life have two speeds, fast forward and near stop.  I had no intention of napping yesterday, knowing Arden was coming.  She woke me up when she got here.  C'est la vie.  After the day before, I make no apologies.

I finally managed to download the photo of the Christmas Clan.  The big dude impersonating Santa is Dave.  Next to him are my two sons from other mothers, Clay and Craig.  Jester is Dave's buddy and a welcome holiday visitor.  Deb got into the frame just as her camera clicked.  I'm that midget in the middle.  Trust me, I'm not that short, but I look like one of Santa's elves next to the clan.  My two sons not present are nearly as tall as Dave.  (Click on the picture for a better look at those smiling faces.)

Shuffling out to the kitchen this morning I started the coffee and then checked the food bowls.  Ralph, Celeste and Michael were fine, but Missy was mewling out on the deck in the dark.  Her bowl was empty and she was letting me know it.  It seems the inside and outside cats are never the twain to meet.  Ralph, inside, was growling big time and then hit the glass door hard just to make his point.  Missy paid him no nevermind and set about eating her breakfast.

Yesterday, indeed most of this week, was beautiful.  This morning I hear the wind howling outside and I guess we're for it again.  The repairman is due this morning, if he chooses to brave the weather.  Here's hoping.  I'm running out of socks.

Welcome Sight

Whew, what a day!  Sundown was a welcome sight, for sure.  I'm not a runner, never have been, but felt like I'd been in a day-long marathon when it was over.  Nothing other than going to town was stressful, but I'm used to going at my own slow pace and yesterday I was on a tight time schedule.  Aarrgh!

Worried about being late to meet Linda, I got there first, but only because the road workers were taking an early lunch break and didn't hold up traffic on our two-lane roads.  It was nice to spend time with my friend again and have a leisurely conversation over my KFC Kids Meal.

We both had places to go, things to do, so we parted ways and went about our business.  I had just enough time to squeeze in a quick visit to Wally World to get the cat food without which the cats would not have left me back in the house.  They were down to the last crumble and were not shy about telling me that they were not happy.  Even Missy was prowling the deck and pointing at her nearly empty dish.

The next stop was at the doctor's office and I made it just in time.  She decided my medication needed tweaking, but wanted blood work to be sure.  Okay, she sent me to the hospital which was across town to have it drawn, where they said the lab was too busy and to go to the outpatient lab.  Double aarrgh.  I seem to haunt the Vampire Halls these days.

Mission(s) accomplished after the delays, I was nutso to get home before dark.  Poor Michael had been left in the house for hours and I was sure his back teeth were floating.  Let's just say he was glad to see me, as were the cats for a different reason.  Michael and I went for a quick-step walk as the sun and the temperature were dropping.  The view from the porch was such a welcome sight before going in the house, shutting the door, and collapsing in my waiting chair.  Whew.

See It, Do It

Does a New Year's resolution count if it isn't started on New Year's Day?  I sure hope so, otherwise I'm in trouble.  Most of yesterday was spent watching the Rose Parade, both live and DVRd, because I was looking for a particular entry.  A friend of mine's son was in it this year and I wanted to tell her I'd seen him.  After the third go-round, I gave up, but the day was shot and I didn't do much besides noshing on KFC.  The Kid's had left me a bucketful, and it's not gone yet.

This year is off to a busy, confusing start.  I have trouble keeping track of the days at the best of times, but neither Mt. Aukum nor the market gave out calendars this year so I don't know which end is up, let alone what day it is.  See it, Do it is being put on hold for the time being.  I am joining Linda for lunch today and I'm not going to miss that.  We don't get together often anymore.  Guess where we're meeting.  Right!  KFC.  I'm starting to check myself for pin feathers.  After that, I have a doctor's appointment, and then I'll stop in at Wally World and pick up a calendar (can I get points for trying?).  Arden will be here tomorrow for our regular Friday get-together, and a washing-machine repairman is coming on Saturday.  That is as far ahead as I can go, after that I fall off the edge of the world.

Michael and I saw deer in the south pasture last evening.  As many years as I've lived here, they never fail to take my breath away.  Michael pays more attention to the happenings down at the winery.  He is that typical nosy neighbor who wants to know what's going on.

I still have visions of a neat, tidy, dust-free house, but the cats are having such fun with their tissue-paper games I'd feel like Scrooge if I deprived them.  Maybe next week, whenever that is.

In And Out

Through a set of circumstances, I was awake at midnight last night, playing solitaire on the computer.  As it happened, that was a good thing.  I wasn't the only one awake and, let me tell you, hill people celebrate the New Year big time.  The gunfire started about 9 and went on well past 12.  It was as if the boys (and gals, too) were in a competition from hill to hill.  It started with .22s and moved on up the gauges to .45s, .357s and bigger.  When they got serious, the AKs and/or ARs came out.  It sounded like WWIII!  If I'd been asleep, it would have been more than a little scary.  As it was, I could only hope they were sober enough to realize that those bullets had to land somewhere.  They definitely ushered out 2019 and welcomed the new decade in with a bang!

Twenty-twenty is off to a great start.  I've already received calls from my daughter and a school chum from years ago.  Consequently, I'm behind the eight ball with this entry in the new year, priorities, you know.

I wish everyone "health, wealth, and time to enjoy them!"  Cheers!