Fait Accompli

Mission accomplished.  The deed is done.  In other words, we went to town!  I actually remembered and, more surprisingly, found a box of latex gloves bought at least twenty years ago, probably for something to do with the goats.  I stuffed a handful in my jacket and off we went.  What's more, I used them.  Clean gloves on, used ones stripped off inside out and put in a different pocket.  Given the ubiquitous, sneaky, vile nature of The Virus, I don't know how much real protection they provided, but they made me feel better.

Michael got to visit his favorite watering holes (not to drink water, but to make it) on our first two very brief stops.  I've often wondered why the city of Placerville spent time and money putting up Speed Limit 40 signs on the stretch of Hwy. 50 behind town.  Nobody, nobody but me, goes 40 miles an hour there.

It was very strange to see a billboard in front of Walmart that listed a rather long list of items they did not have.  Michael and I went in, stopped at the pharmacy, restocked the kitty litter, picked up a couple of frozen items and a bottle of orange juice.  (For some reason I've been craving orange juice of late.)  The store was not crowded, and I was glad to see that most observed the six-feet social distance.  Hey, given the morbid stats, we have to try.

The road home never looked so good.  Given good fortune, we won't have to go to town for another couple of weeks.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Baby Steps

Michael and I have not ventured out since the stay-at-home order was given, but Truck needed fuel so we went down to Mt. Aukum, the necessary precursor to a trip to town.  Baby steps, as it were.  It really is a strange new world out there.  Except for Neighbor Joe, who jogs on our little dirt road regularly, I could go a year and not see anyone walking on the "big road."  Yesterday I passed singles with their dog, couples, and a group of five or so walking along our country roads.  You could tell that these people were actually talking to each other.  Thankfully, the morning rain had stopped and allowed escape from the four-walled prisons called home.

Sometime back Mt. Aukum changed their policy at the gas station.  Now one pulls up to the pump, gets out, goes inside and either pays in advance or, in the case of a fill up, promises not to drive off without paying before they'll turn on the pump.  There was a car ahead of me so we waited.  Evidently the woman was also doing a bit of shopping at the time.  She came out with her purchases and still had to get gas.  Oh well, I thankfully didn't have anywhere else to go.  Rolling down the window, I watched as she carefully used wipes to clean the pump handle, etc., and I told her I was proud of her to take such care.  I also teased her, saying I saw she had bought the essentials, a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer.  We got to talking (no one was behind me in line) about this virus situation, and I mentioned she was lucky to have wipes.  "Oh, you don't have any?  Here, take this container.  I've only used about four or five, so it's full."  "Hey, you need it!"  "No, really, I have three more at home.  Please take it and stay well."  What can you say about such an act of kindness?

My neighbor Bruce came out of the store, saw my truck, and came up to say hi (at a distance).  "If you need anything, help or anything at all, just call me."  Being a chef, he is considered an essential worker and works long hours.  His offer was much appreciated, knowing he had other demands on his time.

Instead of getting cranky, it seems people are "in this together."  They are taking baby steps into a "kinder, gentler nation" (George H. W. Bush, 1988).  That could be the only good thing to come out of a bad situation.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Discombobulated

It was Friday.  I was sure it was Friday.  Things to do on Friday:  call Arden in lieu of a visit, get gasoline, go to town, do a dab of shopping and get some blood work done.  Imagine my confusion when Michael and I finished our walk (in the rain) and I found one of my cooking shows on TV.  Oh no!  How could they do this to me?  Why would they move all of those programs (I checked the guide, they were all there) to Friday?  It was definitely going to mess up my iffy weekly calendar.  I'd fallen asleep and missed Trash Day Tuesday this week as it was.

Slowly, slowly it began to dawn on me that maybe, just maybe it was Saturday.  I didn't doubt that I could be wrong, I just couldn't see that as happening when I was so positive.  The cellphone gave me the bad news.  It was Saturday.  That put the kibosh on my plans for the day.  Even with the world on house arrest, mothers who were home schooling their children were bound to be out and about on the weekend, one of the reasons I was going on Friday.

It didn't take much persuasion to make me settle back and watch Julia Child and Lidia Bastianich.  After all, it was Saturday.

There's no sense going to town today, Sunday (I checked), because the lab will be closed and I'm sure not going to make two trips to town.  I'm glad Michael and I got our dose of Vitamin D on what must have been Friday.  It rained all day yesterday and it looks like a repeat today.  Sigh.

A Place In The Sun

"A Place In The Sun" (1951, Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor, Shelley Winters).

Michael pretty much gets to choose where we go on our walks.  I feel that's only fair because I keep him on a leash and he doesn't get to run free.  That's because he "runs free" down to and up the road.  We mostly stick to the driveway loop, stopping so he can snoop on the happenings at the winery.  Sometimes we go out to the west point where he can look at the horses and alpacas next door.  We skip that part if it's a rainy day.  Lately he's been venturing out, finding new sniffs under the live oak and peeing on the woodpile (a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do).

A few days ago I suggested we go sit on the deck and soak up some sun.  Michael was up for that.  He must have enjoyed it because yesterday he led me up the steps on our second outing and we did a repeat.  We sat in companionable silence, listening to the breeze in the trees and the birds, enjoying the warmth, watching the big, puffy white clouds float overhead.  I knew when Michael had had enough when he moved over into the shade, and we continued our walk.  Good choice, Michael.

I must be pretty persuasive because I've been able to talk myself out of going to town for days now.  I've run out of arguments and the need has become great and today's the day.  How I wish it wasn't so.  I'd rather sit in the sun with Michael.  Sigh.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Grab A Hanky

Another topic Tinka and I touched on during our "Day Tripper" (Beatles, 1966) conversation was handkerchiefs.  Kleenex tissues were first made in 1924, but our mothers eschewed them.  Why pay for something to throw away when you could use a perfectly good square cloth that could be washed (and ironed) over and over again?  Handkerchiefs, hankies for short, were used to wipe noses, dry tears, and if you had a smudge on your face, Mother would spit on a corner and clean you up.  No, really, they did that.  All mothers kept a hanky tucked up a sleeve for just such occasions.  Going out the door to catch the school bus, I was bound to hear, "Do you have your hanky?"  I was sure some terrible fate would befall me should I ever forget.

There were utilitarian hankies, white and plain, for everyday use.  That's the kind kids got and my father kept in his back pants pocket.  Then there were the fancy ones, possibly patterned with flowers and/or adorned with lace.  Those were to take to church or tea with the ladies.  They could be purchased, but my mother either crocheted or tatted her own, and they were things of beauty.  I still have some of the last ones she made, sitting outside in the sunshine because her eyes had gotten so bad she couldn't see to work the fine thread in her apartment.

My father had his own set of handkerchiefs to wear in his suit breast pocket, folded in the fashion of the day, points up or squared off.  No doubt about it, my dad was a dandy.  He wouldn't leave the house until his handkerchief was just so.

Hankies have gone the way of school lunch sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper.  Tissues and Ziploc bags have taken their place, undoubtedly more safe and sanitary, but "Do you have your tissues" just doesn't have the same ring.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Trippin'

That six degrees of separation thing is real.  I went to school with Sandye, Sandye became the sister-in-law of Kit, Kit is the niece of Tinka, Tinka sold property to Florence and Dan.  Somehow the circle got connected and now everybody knows everybody and they've all shown up here in the blog at one time or another.

Yesterday Tinka and I were talking.  It turned out she grew up in Altadena.  I was born in Altadena.  We both shopped the same stores on Colorado Boulevard in Pasadena.  I went to high school in the hills above Pasadena.  We went tripping down memory lane together.  "Did you ever...?"  "Of course I did!"  Tinka and I are close in age and we both grew up in the war and postwar years in the 1940s.  We talked about the many truck farms in our neighborhoods that stood fallow when Japanese-Americans were were sent to internment camps.  My parents were older and had come through the Great Depression with habits that were hard to break.  Tinka's family and mine had cans of bacon grease hoarded under the sink to fry chicken and potatoes...wouldn't want to waste that fat when we couldn't get butter.  Think store shelves are empty now?  My mother had a ration book issued by the Government and had to think twice about going shopping...did she have enough points to buy meat?  It seems that what goes around, comes around.

I have to go to town today.  Truth be told, I'd rather take another trip down memory lane.

Be well.  Stay safe.

Touching

Social distancing, shelter in place (or its alternatives, stay at home or what it really is, house arrest), no gatherings larger than five...dystopian reality these days.  The thing is, all these measures make sense and are (can you hear your mother say it?) "for your own good."  Physical isolation is no hardship for me, as it might be for others.  Aren't we lucky, under the circumstances, to have other resources available now?  Telephones - landlines and cellphones, texting, Skype, email, computer messaging...I can't even think of all the ways there are to reach out and touch someone.  There is no substitute for a good hug, but even by oneself, we're none of us really alone.  (Ralph just barfed on the bed.  Oh goody.  Slight pause here for cleanup.)  I know I'm getting and making more calls these days.  It's nice to hear a friendly voice and a safe way to stay in touch.

I watch a lot of MSNBC news (about as nonpartisan as I can find) in the afternoon, and almost all interviews are done safely from home by Skype, Face Time, or whatever now.  Teachers are still teaching via television.  Virtual tours of museums around the world are available.  Ain't technology grand?

I do feel for mothers who might find themselves at home with who knows how many children.  I do remember the time that the Kids' dad came home on a rainy day to find me sitting alone in the walk-in closet while the four Kids ran amok in the house.  "Why are you in here?"  I told him I could keep an ear out, but if I heard "Mama, mama, mama!" one more time I'd go running in the streets.  I needed a break.  At least back in the day the kids could go outside to play on a nice day.

Ah well, it's a different world.

Stay well, be safe, keep in touch.

Just Chill

The PG&E crews have been working their way up the road, leaving very neat piles of trunks and branches at the side to be chipped at a later time, probably by different crews.  I figured my turn would be coming soon, so it wasn't really surprising when, whump!, followed by a second whump, both loud and strong enough to shake the house yesterday morning.  I thought, there go my trees.  Oh well.

Michael and I headed out for a brisk stroll in the chill morning air, and I was surprised to see one of the crew in hardhat and orange vest walking up the drive.  What now?  We waited for him.  He was the foreman of the crew and just wanted to let me know they were going to start on my property.  Those two big, earthshaking whumps had been from trees dropped on the hill clear across the road!  Wow!  He (Mario) said they'd start by clearing the brush before tackling one or two pines and maybe five cedars.  The breeze was downright cold so we didn't spend much time chatting before tending to the business of the day.  I appreciated the heads up.

I hadn't gone to the store before St. Patrick's Day so was behind in making a corned beef dinner.  Tonight I'll make colcannon, my favorite way to use leftover potatoes and cabbage (and anything else left over from dinner).

It never did warm up throughout the day.  Note to self:  bring more wood to the porch.  The photo was taken on our last walk and it was just as chill as it looks.

Stay well.  Be safe.

Oh Joy!

Saturdays are for cooking shows.  Sundays are for sports, those few sports in which I have an interest:  NASCAR, football, and horse racing.  Almost all events have been cancelled due to the virus.  The Kentucky Derby has been "postponed" until September.  Facing a day of interminable Sudoku games on my cellphone, imagine my surprise when I saw "America's Day At The Races" on TV.  How and what could that be?  Well, it turned out to be wonderful!  Without a person in the stands, horse races were still held across the country and were televised back to back from here, there, and everywhere with few-to-no breaks all day.  Horse racing is an expensive sport and precautions taken for all personnel (and the horses) were explained and, I'm sure, followed.  I didn't miss the hoopla and commentary of racing at a single track at all.  For a race fan, it was like hitting the Trifecta.

While walking Michael in the morning, Clay had sent me a text asking if I was watching NASCAR.  I'd heard there was something called "eye racing," (that's how I heard it), but had no idea what it was.  He said it was "better than nothing."  I'd set it to DVR, but then got involved with the horses.  Later in the day, I pulled it up.  Turns out it was "iRacing," some kind of simulation game.  Not being a gamer, I can't begin to explain it.  Real, well-known drivers, sitting home alone in some kind of device, "drove" their cars on a realistic track, in constant communication.  There were flats, wipe outs, pit time, etc.  The guys were having great fun.  Let's just say it's not my cuppa.

It was a good day.  Stay well, be safe.

Make Up Your Mind

I could imagine Nature was bored yesterday.  The weather has been fairly constant lately, either days of rain or lovely and warm(ish).  "What shall I throw at them today?"  Unable to decide, she ended up flipping a coin.  Heads, rain.  Tails, sunshine.  She must have dropped the coin because, "Oh what the heck, let's do both!"  The spotlight on the hills across the road was in stark contrast to the rain pounding on the deck.  She should have come in and watched cooking shows with me.  Oh, no, I'm in self-isolation just like everybody else.  No company, thank you very much.

On Friday, I called Arden.  Just because she couldn't come over didn't mean we couldn't talk.  Arden, as Steve had, draws her energy from being around people.  This isolation business must be hard on her.  They say on the news to keep in touch with seniors.  My friend Harold is ninety (senior to me!), so I gave him a call, too.  He runs his own business and has had to close his gates, a wise, but unprofitable move.

Rain and/or shine, Michael needs his walks.  He and the cats are all the company I need.

Two Of Three

There are three resident cats at Farview.  Ralph and Celeste are strictly indoor cats, and Missy is outdoors.  However, lately, since she's been eating on the deck, she's having second thoughts about her lifestyle.  She's been haunting doors and windows and, if she's there when I go out to fill her dish, she's come close to stepping inside.  "Um, no, little girl, that's not a good idea."  I don't know how Celeste would take it, but Ralph has become very territorial.  He follows her movements on the deck and growls and hisses if she comes too close.  Yesterday he was knocking things off shelves and windowsills, all the while telling Missy to "Go away!  Go away now!"  Missy, as only cats can, ignored him, driving Ralph to distraction.  Michael doesn't seem to care one way or the other.  I wouldn't mind a third cat in the house, but I don't think these three would play nice.

Yesterday Camille called.  She had received a frantic call from another neighbor woman, saying that two strange men were walking around and she didn't know them and, "Danger!  Danger, Will Robinson!"  (Shades of Lost In Space, 1965.)  It was a lovely morning and Michael and I took advantage of it to sit on the deck and soak up some sun, something Bessie Anne and I used to enjoy.  Soon two men went walking up Irish Acres, talking and laughing, certainly nothing furtive.  They were simply walking their dog!  The world has become so suspicious now.  People are having to work from home and so-called strangers are probably long-time neighbors that just haven't been seen during the week.  It's a new reality.

One Of Three

What a great start to the day...sunny and warm.  Michael and I weren't  the only ones enjoying the morning.  Sheila and Tessie were just soakin' up the rays.  There must have been some good sniffs in the air because Michael was content to just stand or sit with his nose raised for long moments.  I sure didn't mind being outside after the last few days.

We went for another walk before I took off for the grocery store, the one place Michael cannot go.

Weird is the only word to describe shopping now.  Never my favorite thing to do, this time it was a challenge.  It's a good thing I have a bread machine because there were, what, four loaves of bread on the shelves.  There was nothing at all in paper goods.  Soup was down to a few cans, I took one of three boxes of fettuccine left, and it's a good thing I didn't need any milk.  I didn't take much of anything, but some of everything I needed, like kitty litter and Butterfingers.

The thing that struck me most was that maybe eighty percent of shoppers were men, mainly older men.  Everyone was in a jolly mood and they wanted to talk, keeping the recommended social distance, of course (not hard to do with two carts between us).  One area in the store that was fully stocked (except for whole carrots) was the fresh produce aisle.  One would think that with all the children being kept at home, that's where the mothers would have gone first.  Oh well.  With canned soup gone, I bought enough vegetables to make my own.

At home, I got the wagon to bring the groceries to the house.  Two twenty-pound bags of cat and dog food were more than I wanted to carry.  Following CDC guidelines, after bringing in bags of stuff and putting things away, I washed my hands thoroughly.  Then, as is my wont after such an outing, I sat down, thinking to bring wood to the house later.  That was a mistake.  All those puffy white clouds of the morning got together, turned grey, and it started to rain.

I had three things on my To-Do list.  One out of three ain't bad.

Help

("Help!" by the Beatles, 1965)

Camille has chastised me in the past when I'm having trouble with this or that, "Woman, you have to learn to ask for help."  I reject the idea that I am stubborn.  I'll either find way or an alternate way to do something, or decide it didn't need doing in the first place.  Cam knew about my trials with the truck hood.  "Ask your neighbor, Joe, for help!"  It was rainy and cold all day.  How was I going to pull him out of his hopefully warm house for that?  I tried again and again to open the danged thing without success.  Finally, in the late afternoon I gave up and called.  "Joe, I have a silly favor to ask," and voicemail hung up on me.  Oh well, I tried.  Imagine my shock when not five minutes later Joe drove up.  "You never ask for help, so I figured you needed me."  It didn't take him two minutes to release the stuck mechanism on the latch.  What a good neighbor, what a nice man.  Needless to say, I didn't get to the store yesterday.

Joe didn't blink an eye when I came to the door in a sweatshirt, a hoodie, a puffy jacket, and that great knitted pig hat with eyes, ears and flaps.  He must have wondered, but I didn't explain.  Better to be thought eccentric than ask another favor.  I had run out of porch firewood a couple of days ago.  The wind had blown the tarps off the woodpile and the wood was wet, so it was futile to bring more to the house.  Wet wood doesn't burn and Stove has sat idle.  Thus my odd indoor attire.

For two days, it has hailed whenever I've taken Michael for a walk.  It's hard not to take it personal.  Michael does his business and we hightail it back to the house, liberally sprinkled with ice the size of rock salt.

To-Do (make that Must-Do) list for today:  Go to the store!  Bring more wood to the porch and hope to heck it dries out!  Light a fire!

Cancelled

COVID-19 is wreaking havoc in the world.  One would think that I live such an isolated life that I would not be affected...'tain't so.  I've mentioned before how my son Dave and the fellas in the Freed Spirits motorcycle club have come up in the past to be worker bees, taking on any task that needed doing here.  Not only have I appreciated their help, they're a fun bunch of guys with big hearts and great hugs.  JT, the Road Captain (in charge of planning group rides), contacted me and said the club would like to come up next weekend and would that be okay.  Okay?  I was so happy!  For everyone's sake, I've cancelled that event.

Sixty-three years ago, a classmate and I graduated from high school together (my, how time does fly!).  We've kept in touch all this time and she's been here several times.  We've been planning another visit very soon and I've been so looking forward to seeing her.  Cancelled.

I called Arden yesterday and cancelled Fridays for the duration.  It's not because Arden goes out in public so much as that her son and daughter-in-law work outside the home and who knows what they could bring back.  She and I are both in the high-risk category and it just doesn't pay to take chances.  My social circle, never wide at best, is shrinking rapidly.

I've been running into the darndest problems lately.  Yesterday was trash day.  In an attempt to keep the rats out of the engine compartment on Truck, I've left the hood slightly open so as not to give them a warm hidey-hole.  That seems to have worked because Truck started right up when I turned the key (you'd better believe I had my fingers crossed!).  In the midst of a pounding hail storm, I tried unsuccessfully to shut the hood.  Aarrgh!  Okay, if I drive very slowly, maybe the hood will not fly off.  Mission accomplished.  However, I've got to get it shut today.  I must go to the grocery store today, like it or not.  I probably don't need to explain why it won't do to run out of kitty litter.

Stay well, everyone.

One Of Those

It was one of those days.  They come and, thankfully, they go.  The first sign was the lack of lights on the WiFi box, which meant no computer.  No computer, no blog, no nada.  The porch light showed me the reason.  Snow.  I remember how excited we got when we moved up here and the first snow fell.  It's still beautiful to look at, but now it's more of an inconvenience, starting with the satellite receivers getting blocked.  Oh well.  Go down the hall and start the coffee.  Barely light out, it was still difficult to see when the electricity abruptly went out, and the coffeemaker immediately quit.  NOooo!  Talk about adding insult to injury.  Go sit in the living room to contemplate the situation.  Blip!  The power came back on.  Run to the kitchen and turn the coffeemaker back on.  Just as it finished its job, the power went off again.  Like some bizarre game, this happened any number of times until it went off and stayed off for hours.

About 3:30 a.m., I'd heard a tree crack and fall and could only hope it didn't fall on on the fence line.  It turned out to be worse than that.  Arden called and said the tree was in their yard and had crunched a corner of their house when it came down.  Fortunately, no one was hurt.  I could hear the song of the chainsaw down the hill and decided I wasn't having a bad day after all.

Rather than slog through four-plus inches of snow on the driveway, Michael and I stayed to the more protected area under the live oak tree, new territory for him.  On our first walk of the morning, Michael went to attention.  Looking where he was looking, I saw a coyote down by the goat pen, casually trotting through the snow.  Michael doesn't bark...ever, so I yelled and the intruder jumped over into my neighbors' vineyard and away.

When the dish is blocked (and the power is on), I can still watch my backlog of DVR programs.  It was one of those days.

PS:  I have no idea why advertisements are showing up in the comments.  I can't seem to delete them and have no idea where they're coming from.

Dreary Days

It was hard to climb out of my warm nest this morning what with the wind blowing and the rain pounding and my furry companions snuggled up close.  Oh well, nothing for it but to get up, shuffle down the hall to the kitchen, put the coffee maker to work, and make sure all food bowls were filled for the four-leggeds.  The weather is a rerun of yesterday.  Thankfully, Michael is a couch potato and double timed our outings so we weren't completely soaked from the rain.

It seems the world has lost its mind.  Deb called yesterday and told me about her trials and tribulations at Walmart and Costco, starting with trying to find a parking spot, and this was early in the morning!  Shelves were empty and carts were full, and people were close to coming to blows over supplies.  The news is full of such stories.  Boy, am I glad I stay stocked up on staples and won't have to go out among 'em for awhile.

NASCAR is just one sport that has cancelled events to prevent crowds gathering.  I applaud the one basketball player who donated buckets of money to employees and vendors who were losing their pay due to these closures.  Deb will be working at home for at least three weeks.  At least she has that option, Craig does not.

No cooking shows again yesterday, so I watched a documentary on the life of Anne Frank.  That was another time the world went crazy.  As I've said so many, many times, "I don't understand."

Me?  I've got food in the cupboards and freezer, firewood on the porch, and so far-so good with the power.  (And I found my email!)

Knock Knock

Knock knock.  Who's there?  Hatch.  Hatch who?  Bless you!

Shades of the far distant past.  At one time, knock-knock jokes were all the rage.  My Kids, sitting in the back seat of the station wagon (precursor to the SUV), would make up their own jokes (that would make no sense to me) and laugh uproariously.  Oh well, better that than, "He touched me.  Mama, tell him not to touch me!"

I was still fuming over the way the morning had gone, doing little things to keep busy while watching the news from the White House (not exactly reassuring), when the cats and dog let me know there was someone at the door.  Celeste is antisocial and races to the bedroom if there's a guest.  Michael doesn't bark, ever, but uses body language to tell me.  I hadn't heard a car, but could see a short shadow moving at the door.  Knock knock.  ???  "Arden!  It's not Friday!"  "Umm, yes, it is."  Needless to say, I was not prepared, but welcomed her in for our end-of-week routine.

If yesterday was Friday, today must be Saturday.  Try to keep up here!  With the new setup, I can't find my email now.  Sigh.

Okay

What a way to start the day!  Up at 5 (new time), turn on the computer.  Computer wanted to do "update."  Okay.  "This will take a while."  Okay.  Try two-plus hours!!  Okay.  Turn on the seldom-used TV in the bedroom.  The picture was smooshed.  Okay.  Push some buttons and lose the picture altogether.  Can't get it back.  Okay.  Try to change the bag on the upright Hoover vacuum that Deb and Craig had given me because the Dyson quit running.  Can't do it.  Okay.  Computer finally came back to me.  The "screen" is so big now I can't see all of it in one shot.  This is NOT the way to start the day!!  Okay??

I had a couple of topics to write about, most of which have gone out of my mind (shallow, at best), one of which was/is "selfie."  "What's in a name?" (Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet)  Now I can call my desire not to leave home as "self-confinement."  What a sad state of affairs it is when the entire country is in isolation.  Call me a selfie, okay?

Lest I go on a rant, I'm gonna shut up now, okay?

All Downhill

Another warm, beautiful morning.  The Baby Blue Eyes are blooming, though not in such great numbers as in the past.  I wonder why.

PG&E, in an attempt to be proactive, have work crews out in this area taking down trees that might endanger power lines if they fell.  They've worked for weeks along Camille's property and up along this road.  Yesterday the guys were up on Irish Acres (just across from me), and I've been contacted.  They'll be taking out one pine and a number of cedars along my fence line.  I don't like losing trees, but I don't want to be the cause of a fire, either.  There is no charge and they will take away everything, everything but the large cedar trunks which Mike wants for his mill.

Michael was very interested in the sound of chainsaws and men yelling back and forth.  That gave me time to get a shot of the plum trees in frothy white bloom in the back/front yard.  (I know, it's confusing.)  Neither of us was in a hurry to go back in the house, me especially because I knew what was coming.

It was all downhill from there.  We made a couple of quick stops first.  Under the circumstances, I would have avoided Wally World like the plague (yeah, poor choice of words), but had to pick up medication so there was nothing for it but to go.  Camille had given me handy hints on how to avoid touching anything others had touched, using the wipes provided for the carts.  Problem:  there were no wipes.  "We might get more after the 24th."  There was a big sign at the pharmacy:  "We have no wipes, no masks, and no sanitizer."  There was, however, a long line.  Michael gave up and laid down.  I wished I could join him.  That was nothing compared to the checkout lines.  Cashiers were in short supply and carts were loaded.  Deb had told me that Costco in Woodland was completely sold out of toilet paper and water   Why hoard toilet paper?  Oh well.

We had one more stop, the auto parts store, to look for rodent repellent.  No, they didn't have any, but suggested cotton balls saturated with rubbing alcohol, and leave the hood open.  We'll see.  Michael and I were both exhausted when we got home.  He had a snack and went right to sleep.  I brought in my purchases and collapsed.  Thankfully (hopefully), we won't have to go to town again for a couple of weeks.  Whew.

Try Again

Mike to the rescue again.  The rats seem to have a preference for spark plug wires and Mike came with yet another set to install.  Once upon a time, Steve bought a 1950-something Chevy pickup.  There was enough room under the hood for two engines and a small boy.  It's a good thing Mike isn't a very big guy because this GMC is jam-packed with "stuff," stuff I can't begin to identify, and he crawls in there and does his thing.  He got Truck up and running again, bless him, but it was too late and I'd lost the incentive to go to town.  Oh well.

Missy comes at least once a day for breakfast and snacks on the deck.  While not exactly rotund, she's definitely not the scrawny little girl she was.  There is a rescue group up here called Fat Kitty City.  Missy doesn't need rescuing, but she's earning the title.  If I'm moving slow of a morning, she's looking in the glass door and tapping her foot.  She leads the way to her bowl.  I pet and she purrs while she crunches.

Lonesome Lulu is funny.  When Michael and I are on our morning walk, Lulu is on the roof of her little coop, making sure I know she's still there.  Chickens, like goats, are social creatures and isolation must be hard for her.  Lulu won't let me touch her (yet), but she does talk to me while I'm putting down her food.  That's progress.

Cousin Sandy sent me a text in the evening with a suggestion from her son for a rat spray repellent to use on Truck.  Wouldn't that be grand?  I'll check in the auto-parts store in town today and/or go online to find some.  I had trouble going to sleep and then had bad dreams last night, sure I could hear tiny teeth gnawing. gnawing, gnawing.

To those early-morning readers, I apologize.  I know the clock says six a.m., but my body still tells me it's only five, so my coffee and writing aren't done until seven.  I'm trying.

Not Again. Yes, Again.

Beautiful morning.  Good walk with Michael.  Proud of myself for getting this, that, and the other thing done.  Dawdled a bit because I didn't want to go to town (so what else is new?).  I didn't want to go for the usual reasons, but I'll admit that there is also the CVD-19 now that scares me and makes me want to stay away from crowds.  Okay, nothing for it but to gird my loins, put Michael's vest and leash on him, and get in the truck.  Rrrrr, rrrrr, rrrrr...nothing.  Truck would not start.  Not again!  It's not been two weeks since Mike replaced wiring, filled the reservoirs, etc.  What the heck?!  Michael was so disappointed when I told him we had to get out.  Michael likes to go to town.  I texted a brief message to Mike.  "The truck won't start."  "What?!  I'll be there, but can't come until evening."  I knew Mike was a shade-tree mechanic, and maybe he'd missed something.  Sigh.

With the wind out of my sails, not much was accomplished the rest of the day while waiting for Mike to arrive.  The news was just as dreary as I felt.  Michael got his walks and that's about it.  The sun went down and no Mike.  It was full dark by the time he got here and I knew he wouldn't be able to do much by flashlight.  I was just glad he came.  He'd worked a full day and I'm sure he would like to see the back side of me.  Opening the hood, the cause of the problem was immediately apparent.  Mike couldn't figure out how a wire had broken the first time, but there was no question on this go-round.  Rats!  Rats had moved in and had a chewing frenzy.  Not only had they chewed through that same wire, they had chewed through everything they could get their teeth into, including tearing off the insulation under the hood.  I apologized for turning the air blue with cuss words, but I was near tears with frustration while watching dollar signs fly by...again.  There was nothing Mike could do just then, but said he'd be back this morning with tools and new wires.  There was nothing I could do either.  The worst thing is that I don't know how to prevent it from happening again.  I have no garage and no choice but to park Truck outside.  Aarrgh!  I'm going to look on the internet to see if there are any answers.  Wish me luck.

It was not a good day after all.

What's Buzzin,' Cousin?

Daddy was one of eleven children, so there were lots of cousins to play with growing up.  (On Mother's side, not s'much.)  My cousin Shirley was one of the "big kids," and I don't recall her joining in our games of tag or other roughhouse stuff.  I can remember exactly what I wore and how beautiful she was when she asked me to be in her wedding.  Boy, did I feel honored!  I was almost ten and she was almost twenty (good grief, that was a long time ago!).  Shirley and her husband moved to Oregon soon after.  The thing is, we've stayed in touch all these years, one or the other calling every couple of months or so.  She called yesterday to let me know she'd moved into a retirement home; after all, she's ninety now, widowed, and decided it was time.  Our conversations are lengthy and far ranging and we laugh a lot.  We reminisce about the old days and she keeps me up to date on who's doing what, when, and where now.  Shirley is the glue that keeps that side of the family together, as I'm not the only cousin she calls.  It was good to hear from her.

More drizzles yesterday and Michael did not dawdle as he piddled.  We did have to stand a while when he saw a man working alone in the vineyard next door.  As I do so many times, I wondered what he was thinking.  At the very least, he is the nosiest dog I've known.

None of the critters wears a watch.  They expect to be fed on schedule.  The problem is that I have to adjust to a time change to meet their expectations.  The clock says nine, but it's "really" eight.  I'm trying.  I'm really trying.

Timely

It was a soft rain, but raining just the same.  Not a drizzle, not a downpour, just enough to soak both Michael and me on our first walk, and it was cold.  It was cold enough to get a fire going in Stove when we got back to the house.  Stove was sulky after being ignored, didn't want to get going and then when he relented, gobbled up nearly a wagon load of firewood.

Every so once in a while PBS messes with me and does not play a day of cooking shows, but some kind of self-help programs on Saturday.  Phooey.  I made do with some Alton Brown.  Like Martha Stewart, he can make the simplest recipe into an intricate production and uses expensive equipment few of us have or would need.  You should see what he uses to juice an orange!  However, he does explain the chemistry and science of cooking, and I always learn something.

If there is a series I like, I record a number of shows to watch back-to-back later.  It's like a movie then instead of chopped-up bits and pieces, and much easier to keep continuity.  I had done that with "Pillars Of The Earth," from Ken Follett's wonderful book.  I was crazy mad to see the series when it first showed in 2010, and it is just as good this time around.  Needless to say, not much got done yesterday.

The rain had eased up by our second walk, but it was nice to come into a warm house (Stove had done his work).  It was dry by the time for our last walk, and no, I still can't get the tailgate open.

I promised myself I wasn't going to whine about the time change, but I still don't like it.  So there.

Coming And Going

It either happened overnight or my mind has been elsewhere (it frequently goes walkabout).  I looked up yesterday and saw that the oak behind the feed barn had burst into leaf and had no idea when that had occurred.  I was going to edit this photo, but realized I was standing just about where I had fallen.  Those branches on the far upper right are on the tree I needed to get to.  That's a long road home.

I'm not bragging, but I got so much done yesterday before Arden came, not enough as it turned out.  We were snacking and watching our news programs when Mike drove up.  He had come to put sealer on the two or so boards he'd had to replace.  That had to be done before the rain comes.  Yes, it's in the forecast for today; hard to tell from that bluebird sky of the morning.  Mike was busy slathering on the sealer when I heard a motorcycle drive up.  Clay?  No, it was Neighbor Joe who stopped by to make sure I had enough firewood for the coming wet week.  How nice was that?  I assured him I hadn't yet made a dent in the woodpile so I'd be fine.

Procrastination bit me on the butt again.  After Arden, Mike, and Neighbor Joe had gone, I realized I'd not yet taken the birdseed out of the truck.  Better do that right away.  Uh huh.  Try as I might, my hands were not strong enough to open the stubborn latch on the tailgate and the bags were too heavy to lift up and over.  There are few things in life I covet, but one of the new pickups with the easy-open tailgates is one of them.  Multiple tries and multiple failures; I finally gave up.  I kicked myself six ways from Sunday that I'd put off that chore.  Two men here on one day and I know either of them would have helped me.  Maybe the rain will hold off long enough to give me another chance this morning.

It was a busy day.

Losing It

As Bette Davis said, "Getting old is not for sissies."  She knew what she was talking about.  Two of my friends have bad backs, one has painful knees, another needs a cane to walk.  My own trial is the loss of strength.  I was made painfully aware of this the other evening when Michael and I were on the last walk of the day.  I made a misstep in the dusk and fell to my knees.  Quick inventory:  okay, painful, but nothing broken.  It was then the adventure began.  Having lost most of the strength in my quads, getting down is easy, getting up is not even on the best of days.  "Come on, woman, you can do this."  Yeah, well, I could not.  Lying in the driveway for the night was not an option; besides, I had Michael to think of.  Of course I had tripped down by the goat pen and the house seemed far, far away.  Crawling seemed my only choice, but I had to get to the oak in the front yard where I could pull myself to my feet.  Crawling on the gravel drive...well, what the fall had not done, those rocks finished.

Michael must have thought I'd lost my mind, or that this was some new game.  His training as a support dog came to the fore.  He stayed by my side no matter how slowly I moved, never pulling on the leash.  I was grateful for his company as darkness fell.  It seemed like eons before we made it to the tree where I could stand and walk to the house.  I thought I'd quit having skinned knees when I was a kid.  Ha!

Yesterday was lost to R&R (rest and recuperation), and I make no apologies.

Blank

My mind this morning is as blank as the screen I'm looking at.  Yesterday was a do-nothing day and I can't think of a story to tell.  As Thumper's mother told him, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."  Good advice.

I hope your day goes well.  As the truckers say, I'll catch ya on the flip-flop.

Super Tuesday

Sunny, warm, nary a cloud in the sky, and Michael and I were on a roll.  We went for our walk, I got some outside things done and some inside things done, and then we took off.  First stop, the cookie store.  The lady clerk was so busy texting on her cellphone that a line started to form.  When she finally looked up, she messed up my order and had to re-ring it on the cash register.  Oh well.  The wait gave the two young ladies behind us time to make friends with Michael.  He thrives on attention and takes it as his due.  It shouldn't surprise me anymore that he seems to bring out the "friendly" in people.  "Hi!  How's your day going?," from a man I've never met, and he stopped to talk a minute and praise Michael.  Cashier lady had given the wrong order to the guy who loads the truck and after waiting for the second bag of birdseed, I had to go back in, leaving quiet Michael parked next to a GSD who was barking his head off.  Up here, there are GSDs (German shepherd dogs) and LGDs (large guard dogs) and both seem to feel very loud barking will scare off intruders.  When I got back in the truck to wait (again), another man, older, slim, wearing a cowboy hat, walked up to my window to talk.  He'd seen Michael and wanted to tell me about his Australian shepherd who had died recently and that he was going to look at an Aussie puppy in the afternoon, and a rather long story about what and why he was going to name the little girl (Annie Mae, in case you're curious).  His old dog had been a tricolor male like Michael, but the new dog was a blue merle female because he didn't want to see his boy every time he looked at her.  As I said, Michael brings out the best in people, and I talk to people I never would have before.

I plan our outings so as not to have to backtrack, and our next stop was to vote.  "Hi!  How are you and your companion?"  Another Michael conquest.  Then it was on to Gray's Corner where he has trained those clerks to bring out a cookie for him, and they have such good piddle spots among the plantings.  We even got the trash down to the big road.

All in all, I'd say it really was a Super Tuesday.

Playing Games

Once upon a time, long, long ago, before television, before iPads and smartphones and the ilk, we played games for entertainment.  I grew up with Parcheesi, Monopoly, checkers and Chinese checkers, and card games.  Learning to count, I thought the numbers went ...nine, ten, jack, queen, king.  If we weren't clustered in front of the radio to listen to Inner Sanctum, Suspense, or The Lone Ranger, someone would bring out a board game to play.  I won't say my mother was competitive, but one time she and I started a game of tiddlywinks after dinner.  She wasn't winning and she wouldn't call it quits or let me go to bed until three a.m.  Playing games was an opportunity to talk to each other, to family members and friends.  My parents played poker twice monthly with two sets of friends, at their house or ours.  There was real conversation, unlike today when people's eyes are glued to little hand-held devices.

My Kids grew up with games   A photo that still makes me laugh is the one in which one of my sons (who shall remain nameless) is biting the hand of his sister, who was winning at Cootie.  I did mention that we are a competitive bunch.  We played games well into their adulthood, and there are multiple cupboards downstairs packed with games of all kinds.  We haven't even played poker in a long time now.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the technology and use my cellphone daily, more to play Sudoku than anything else, and it's my lifeline to the outside world if I were to have an accident.  I'd rather talk face to face, but that's just me.

Wanna play a game?

Creature Comfort

Butt scrubs and belly rubs are two of Michael's basic pleasures.  At first I didn't understand.  "Michael, what are you doing?," when he would stand by my chair, facing away and pressing his rump against me.  He didn't want petting, he wanted a back scratch, a good, long butt scrub.  When he wants the whole megillah, he'll then flop over for a belly rub.  (That one wasn't hard to figure out.)  The trouble is that he falls over just out of my reach; however, I won't ever let him down.  I feel like I've won the blue ribbon if he rewards me with a couple of gentle licks on my hand.  As I've said, Michael is not one of those effusive, drooling, face-kissing dogs, so a lick or two is just fine by me.

Ralph doesn't get much one-on-one lap time because Celeste usually fills that spot, leaving Ralph to fit himself in wherever he can, but sometimes she is busy elsewhere and he takes advantage.  He has rotten timing, because he leaps up just as I've decided to get up.  Okay, fine.  I sit.  He makes quite a production, curling up this way and that, twisting around until it's just right.  Just right for Ralph is on his side with his back leg over my wrist, leaving my hand free to rub his belly.  Oh well, nothing I planned on doing can't wait.

We did get a few hours of a gentle rain yesterday morning, starting just as Michael and I headed out, of course.  It was over by our next walk, and completely dry by evening.  It was cold, however, and I weakened, lit a fire and kept it going all day.  Note to self:  bring more wood to the porch.

Last night we were all settled in bed when Michael jumped up and came over to sit on me, three times!  What is this strange compulsion?  Ah well, if it makes him happy.

Marching On

How can it possibly be March already?!  I really wasn't ready for February, and they even threw in a bonus day last month.  At this rate, I should probably start putting the Christmas tree together.  I've heard it said that time goes faster as one ages, but I didn't expect it to race at a double-pace rate.  I can't keep up.

I had ambitious plans for yesterday, even willing to forego some of the Saturday cooking shows.  I found them on the guide and set them to record.  My mistake was checking when Michael and I came back from our walk to find, not America's Test Kitchen, but someone called The Bread Monk.  Well, that was intriguing.  I'd never heard of Fr. Dominic Garramone and made the mistake of sitting down to watch.  PBS runs lengthy specials when they're fund raising, and Fr. Dom was the star of the day.  Okay, I was hooked (I almost said bread-hooked, but stopped myself in time).  The morning was shot and I was still in front of the TV when PBS introduced a second special, this one with my hero, Julia Child, with commentary by Marcus Samuelsson and Jose Andres, both chefs of renown.  Thanks to the pause button, Michael got his walks.  Period.

Time marches on.  Maybe I'll get something done today.  Wait!  It's NASCAR Sunday.  No, there's still hope.  I've learned to record the race in order to zip through the endless stream of commercials so can watch it on my own time.

I see no sign that we got any of the promised rain last night.  Sigh.