Potpourrie

A pair of owls are working the territory out there this morning in the dark.  I always have difficulty understanding their silent flight and noisy hooting.  Seems like one negates the other.  And what was it with the crows yesterday.  A whole flock was whooping it up well before daybreak.  That's not the norm.

Oh joy!  Just about the time I was thinking I'd have to watch reruns of Blue Bloods reruns as an antidote to politics, some kind soul started rerunning The West Wing.  It's been years since I've seen any of those episodes.  Aaron Sorkin is one of my favorite playwrights, and The Newsroom was one of my all-time favorite programs.  The West Wing comes a close second, and I feel I've been rescued.

Hahaha!  Not only am I looking forward to going back to Standard Time, I made my life a lot easier.  I did not reset any of the clocks after the last power outage so for once I'm ahead of the game.  I'll set them to the new (old) time tonight and be ready for tomorrow!

Michael has started bringing his special treat to bed at night.  Nothing like listening to him lick, lick, licking in the dark.  Makes me think of boarding school.  We were three girls to a room, and at one time a Junior was put in with another Senior and me.  That wasn't the problem.  The commissary did a rousing business in candy (twice the price, with the extra donated to the missions in Africa so we were doing good while piling on the pounds).  Dorothea (the Junior) had a mighty big sweet tooth and kept a supply under her pillow to eat after lights out.  She was particularly fond of big, red, hard-candy suckers.  It wouldn't have been a problem if she had licked them, but Dorothea was a cruncher.  It drove the other roommate and me bonkers and we finally threatened the Junior with terrible consequences if she didn't stop.  She didn't stop, but compromised by eating her candy with her head under the covers.  Ya gotta laugh.

Nighttime temperatures have dropped to the point that Ralph has started looking for the cat cave at bedtime.  He crawls under the blankets to snuggle against me until he gets warm, and then joins his sister down by my legs, rendering me immobile for the night.

I have to make the dreaded trip to town today, but this is a dual-purpose run.  I'll drop off my ballot on the way out.  I will be so very, very happy when this election is over and done.

Happy Hallowe'en.

Stay safe.  Be well.  And vote!

BFF

I wonder if Ralph sometimes gets his nose out of joint since Michael came.  Yes, he's Celeste's brother, but she has chosen Michael to be her best friend forever.  She rubs up against him frequently during the day, flicking her tail under his nose.  The dog takes this unlikely show of affection with his usual equanimity.  I find it touching that when Michael and I go for a walk, Celeste will wait at the front door for us to get back, crying for him.  When we come in, "Oh, you're home!  You're home!," and really does a rub up.  When Ralph starts a rough-and-tumble with his sister, it's not uncommon now for Michael to get up, walk over, and give Ralph a nudge with his nose...just enough to let Ralph know, "That's enough now.  Don't hurt my friend."

Among the goodies that Lorraine brought when she visited, there was a bag of treats that Michael is particularly fond of.  They look like and are the size of a larger milk bone, but evidently have been steeped in a tasty broth of some kind.  They're very hard and difficult for me to break in half.  He only gets a half a day.  He carries them around like they are a kid's jawbreaker candy, licking and gnawing until small enough for him to finish off.  The only problem I have with this is that he hides them in the couch and in his bed and blankets until they're small enough to crunch.  I never know where I'll find them as he protects them from the cats.  Celeste may be his BFF, but he's not going to share his treats.

Helper Dude came by yesterday, particularly to cut down some high dry star thistle in the middle of the driveway.  I'm not so worried on the way out because the engine is cold, but after an outing I worry about that dry brush under a hot undercarriage.  He also cleaned the chimney.  With the drop in day- and nighttime temperatures, it's time to start thinking about lighting a fire.  We're not there yet, but it pays to be prepared.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Playing Catch-up

I'll admit it.  I'm addicted.  I'm a news junkie.  There, I've said it.  I got hooked about four years ago and the craving has only become worse.  I truly go through pangs of withdrawal when the power goes out.  What's going on out there?!  Who's doing what to whom and why?  (The why is mostly unanswerable.)  No computer, no TV, no cellphone...it makes me want to tear my hair out!  As a consequence, most of yesterday was spent trying to play catch-up.  Except for Michael's walks, I was plonked in front of the television, trying to figure out what had happened while I was in the dark.  I'm still figuratively in the dark, trying to decipher the whys and wherefores of what I'm seeing.

I don't know if there's a cure for me.  I've tried gradual withdrawal...didn't work, and going cold turkey, as when there's an outage, only makes it worse.  I know I'll feel better when I drop off my ballot in the next day or two, and maybe get this monkey off my back.  At least it will be a step in the right direction.

Stay safe.  Be well.  And vote!

Let There Be Light!

Toward the end of a scheduled PSPS (Public Safety Power Shutoff), there is a most welcome sound of a hoppycopter checking the lines before electricity will be restored.  (Sorry, hoppycopter is what my kids called them, and it stuck.)  One flew over yesterday afternoon, and the lights came back on about 8:30 last night.  Ta da!  It was only a month ago that we had the last outage, and I'm here to tell you this is getting old.  Shorter days and longer nights make for some mighty empty hours.  With the aid of one oil lamp and a flashlight, I finished two and a half books, so the time was not entirely wasted.  One of the (many) frustrations is that power is cut due to predicted high winds, and we've gotten none here.  There was enough of a blow on Sunday night to put some leaves on my porch, and that was it.  I wish they would revise their grids.  Life as I know it came to a screeching halt about 5:30 p.m. on Sunday.  I'd done everything I could think of to prepare, but it mattered not.  The wild things had drunk their basin dry and even though I'd charged it fully, my cellphone died.  It costs a pretty penny, but it pays to keep a landline or I'd have no contact with the outside world, especially in an emergency.  Ah well, life goes on.  Flush the toilet and charge the phone and it's all good again.

Yesterday afternoon there was a continued rustling in the herb garden leaves that certainly got the cats' attention.  Turned out to be a sizeable covey of quail passing through.  More deer sightings and prints than usual.  It seems when there is less human noise, the wild things are emboldened.  For those of us who watch, it's a pleasant sight.

Along about the time we lost power, the temperature dropped.  In the daytime, yes, but especially at night.  Tinka said it was 27 degrees at her house the other morning.  That's cold!  I gave in last night and put the comforter on the bed.  The cats had done their best, but when you still wake up shivering, it's time for more blankets.

It's grand to be able to flip a switch and...let there be light!  (Until the next time.)

Stay safe.  Be well.

Making Hay

"Make hay while the sun shines" means do a thing when the opportunity arises.  Yesterday my friends Florence and Dan took advantage of being in the neighborhood to stop by for an impromptu visit.  In this case, being 'in the 'hood' meant only ten, maybe fifteen miles away.  They'd had business up on notorious Sandridge Road.  I've been on Sandridge Road start to finish once.  Once was enough, believe me.  It's not quite the equivalent of the Hana Highway, but it is a challenge.  Michael was ecstatic to see his friends, and he joined us on the porch...for a while.  Then he got bored with the conversation and asked to go in the house.  The weather has made such an abrupt change, dropping at least ten degrees, that it was pleasant to sit on the porch in the mild sunshine to talk.

I'm doing everything I can think of to prepare for the power outage to come, mainly storing what water I can in anticipation of no water at all.  My concern always is for the animals if the lack of electricity goes on for any length.  It was disappointing to find I will miss an episode of a couple of PBS productions, and there's nothing I can do about that.  When rain or snow blocks the satellite dish, I can always watch prerecorded programs.  No electricity...no such luck.  Nights without power are very long and dark and quiet.  Sigh.

The powers that be (PG&E) estimate return by 10 p.m. Tuesday.  We'll see how that goes.  Last time they added on a day.  In the meantime, I'm making hay.

Stay safe.  Be well.

On Track

On our walks, Michael looks across the fields and stands to sniff the air.  We make abrupt stops if he detects that a night creature has had the audacity to leave its mark on his property.  That needs instant attention.  I swear he generates urine on demand.  Me?  I watch the path, not only to see where I'm stepping, but I look for tracks.  This is a busy time of year for the late-afternoon and after-dark gangs.  Way more deer than usual are walking the dirt and gravel highway.  There are the usual turkey tracks, and there was sign that a jackrabbit had passed through.  A covey of quail had held a meeting down by the intersection where the driveway makes a loop.  The vultures are not pedestrians, but it must be moulting season because we find their big feathers here and there now.  I'm always glad that they leave a cleanup crew here after the fall migration.  I'm just as happy to not see tracks of a big cat.  There have been many sightings of mountain lions in the area and I don't necessarily want them here...okay, I don't want them here at all.

PG&E has sent notice that we're going to have a power outage starting tomorrow afternoon and lasting until Tuesday night.  Oh goody.  We have not had the predicted big winds that instigate these outages during the last few times, but I'll go along with the 'better safe than sorry' theme.  At least we're given notice and can prepare as best we can, but I'm sure not looking forward to long dark nights and not flushing the toilet.  When we moved up here, there was an electric stove top.  It only took one loss of power for me to demand a gas (propane) stove.  The oven is still electric, but I can work around that.  There's naught I can do about the toilet.  Note To Self:  pay bills today while I still have the computer.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Tabula Rasa

My slate (tabula) is definitely rasa (clean) this morning, as in a blank mind.  If it lands on a subject, it's either not one I want to write about or it's not interesting enough, even to me.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Forewarned

The saying is 'Forewarned is forearmed.'  One can only hope.  On our morning walk, I noticed drifting smoke from up on Omo Ranch Road, not billowing, just drifting, but enough for me to take notice.  This is not the time of year to see any smoke.  I hadn't and didn't hear any fire equipment, so what was going on.  We are under a strict ban, but maybe some idiot had lit a burn pile.  I didn't want to be an alarmist, but Michael's 'brother' Loren had recently moved to Omo and I was concerned.  Under the better safe than sorry concept, I sent him a text.  He wasn't home, but down in Sutter Creek.  Oh great, nothing like creating worry when there's nothing that can be done.  I checked again and tried to reassure Loren that the smoke was dissipating, not growing, and that it was probably all right.  Trust me, I was as glad for myself as for him...Omo Ranch Road is not that far away from me.

Michael had an appointment with the new veterinarian.  How I miss Dr. Ric, who had taken care of my dogs and cats since we moved up here.  He had been kind, caring, and competent.  I didn't know his replacement.  I did forewarn Michael that he might get a pinch or a stick, but it wouldn't last but a moment and it would be for his own good.  Due to the virus, owners are not allowed to go into the examination room so I didn't get to meet the new vet beforehand, and Michael was taken into the back on his own.  I did forewarn the tech that if he felt the slightest pain, he would scream.  He has a very low tolerance for pain.  In for a penny, in for a pound, and I asked for a pedicure for my guy as long as we were there.  I heard only one yelp and didn't know if that was for a shot or if a nail was clipped too close to the quick.  The new vet came out to meet me after it was all over.  She is a tiny Indian woman, and I could only hope her techs were big and strong after seeing a prior patient, a 145 lb. behemoth, leave.

I don't know if Michael had listened to my warnings, but he sure understood, "Let's go home!"  And we did.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Make My Day

(Apologies to 'Dirty Harry,' 1971 film, Clint Eastwood.)

I can text, IM, and email with the best of them, but there's nothing quite like the sound of a real live person on the line, especially in these days of the constant, oh-so-irritating (and sometimes dangerous) robocalls.  Yesterday and the day before were red-letter days for me.

Joan, a longtime friend, called.  When I say 'longtime,' I mean it.  We were in high school together and graduated in 1957.  We've stayed in touch all these years, and she has visited Farview Farm several times in the past.  We were making plans for another visit when the virus hit.  Dang!  Joan is now also a widow and recently moved to be close to her daughter in North Carolina, more than a hop-skip-and-a-jump for a California girl.  She called to tell me that she'd just bought a condo in a small town and was excited and happy.  The leaves were turning color, something she'd not experienced down in Venice Beach, CA.  That was a good call.

Later in the day, I got a call from my niece in New Hampshire.  I'm her last remaining relative of my generation (we're six years apart).  Sometimes I'm her surrogate mother, sometimes a sounding board, and always her friend.  Yesterday was a just-for-fun call and the topics bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball.  It's always good to hear from her.

The day before, Tinka phoned.  We don't see each other often, but have become close friends.  As widows of a 'certain age,' living alone in very rural areas, we have a lot in common and never run out of topics to chat about.

In the evening, there was a text from Michael's 'brother,' the son of the woman who had been Michael's prior owner, saying he'd be coming for a visit soon.  I'm sure he'll have stories to tell.

To put the icing on my conversation cake, when I picked up my mail (it was Trash Day), there was a sweet card from a dear cousin.  Every so once in awhile she does that, and it makes my day every time.

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

One-Day Wonder

It may not, probably won't, last, but yesterday was a true success story.  Instead of taking on a major project, I decided to take on some of the little piddly chores that have been building up.  Each deed accomplished led to another, and another.  Not until the end of day did I realize I hadn't even taken the anticipated nap!  I may have found the key to success.  Or not.

That posole I made the other day was good.  It was good on the first day...and the second.  It was even good yesterday, but I will admit I'm sort of glad that was the last of it.  Two helpings a day did it for me.  It's true that you can get too much of a good thing.

The before-dawn owl is out there doing his thing.  He's an inspiration to get up and get moving.  It will be interesting to see if yesterday's motivation carries over.

Stay safe.  Be well.

How's That Workin'?

I wonder why it is that bad habits are so easy to develop and so hard to break.  Good habits, on the other hand, shatter like glass if you skip even one time.  Trust me, I know about these things.  Daytime naps are de rigeur in my house, but then I started falling asleep in the chair about 9 p.m., waking up around midnight or so, only to get interested in something on TV and staying awake until sometimes 2-3 in the morning before going to bed for real.  Obviously, this was not a good habit.  Even the dog was confused.

The last couple of nights, I decided it was time to stop this nonsense and get into a 'real people' routine.  Either I don't need as much sleep as a 'normal' person, or I am totally out of sync.  I'm very used to waking up between 4:30 and 5 a.m., but even when I've propped my eyelids open until around 11 at night, I think 3:30 is too early to start the day.  The new plan isn't working too well for me.  I'm going to stick with this program until I'm positive I've failed.  In the meantime, I see a nap in my future.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Coffee, Anyone?

Once upon a time, before the virus or so many working women, there were coffee klatsches...morning gatherings for coffee and talk.  They were never my mother's or my thing...we woke/wake too early for the average bird.  This ritual came to mind this morning as my coffee maker was doing its thing.  I have a three-shelf cupboard in the kitchen that is filled with nothing but coffee mugs, some stacked one on another.  (I'm a mug person, my mother was a cup-and-saucer lady.)  There is another, smaller cabinet in another room with a shelf just for Christmas mugs to be brought out at the appropriate season.  The thing is, every single one of these mugs has been given to me by family and friends.  I have a coffee klatsche every morning, sans people.  I never pour a cup of coffee without thinking of the one who gave me that mug.  Some of those dear friends are no longer alive, but we still share time of a morning.  It's a nice way to start the day.

I don't do much cooking anymore, and I'm not sure last night's dinner counts as cooking.  I used the slow cooker to make posole, a version of chile verde with the addition of hominy.  Dang, it was so easy and so good!

Well, my mug is empty.  Time to gear up and get going..

Stay safe.  Be well.

Memories

I can't imagine what triggered it, but my mind went back in time yesterday, thinking of all the things I used to do.  Just fun stuff, kid stuff.  I'd like to play jacks and tiddlywinks.  I'd like to hear olly olly oxen free in a game of hide-and-seek at dusk with my many cousins on my dad's side.  I'd like to hop around on my pogo stick (I was the only kid I knew who had one) or bounce on my moon-shoes (ditto).  I'd like to roll down the grassy knolls in Baldwin Park.  I'd like to play hopscotch and jump rope.  I'd like to play cowboy with my official Hopalong Cassidy cap gun and holster.  I'd like to eat homegrown loquats and guavas while sitting in the branches of the flowering peach tree with a book.  I'd like to skim the foam off a bubbling pot of peach jam my mother and sister were going to can.  I'd like to give my niece and nephews rides on Teddy, my first, bomb-proof, horse.  Slippery's Chance was my second horse, a Tennessee Walker.  I'd like to walk to the end of the block and wait for the school bus, rain or shine.  I'd like to go to a Saturday matinee at the movies with Tommy Giannini (I think it cost a quarter, maybe fifty cents).  I'd like to go to my dad's business and type on his old-fashioned typewriter.  I still have it; it was the only thing I wanted when we sold the business.  I'd like to make and deliver little May Day paper baskets of flowers to neighbors.  I'd like to ride in the back of my uncle's truck on the way to go swimming in a reservoir.

Ah well.  That was then.  I grew up.

Stay safe.  Be well.

If It's Tuesday

(If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium, 1969 film, Suzanne Pleshette, Ian McShane,)

It wasn't Tuesday and Fair Play is a far cry from Belgium, but Michael and I are big fans of Brussels...sprouts, that is.  We had them for dinner again last night.  Since I found out he likes them and they are good for him, I roasted enough for two.  I get the crispy outer leaves and he gets the soft center.  He eats them like bonbons.

What do you do to put balm on a frazzled mind?  I watch a couple of Bluebloods reruns and play interminable games of either Sudoku or dominoes on the cellphone.  If I had a garden, I'd go work in the garden.  Mindless activities, even hand-washing dishes, are soothing.  Dusting isn't an option.

Win some, lose some.  Three deer bounded out of the garden area yesterday, beautiful creatures.  It's strange, but there are far fewer ground squirrels this year than I ever remember.  In the past, I could count them by the dozens.  Now it's a rarity to see any.  Shaddup and Yip Yip have evidently moved on.  With all the acorns, you'd think they'd be rampant and fat.  Seeing deer is a winner.  I don't miss the squirrels.

Note To Self:  put sprouts on the grocery list...we're out.

I'm pretty sure it's Friday.  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

On A Roll

A possible power outage is a great incentive to tear oneself away from the political news of the day and get some things done.  Load and run the dishwasher:  check.  Spiff up the kitchen:  check.  Clean and rinse the litter box:  check.  Man, I was on a roll.  Most of the chores undertaken had to do with water, just in case they pulled the plug and there wouldn't be any.  Since I so rarely leave home, I hadn't noticed until the last outing that Truck's windshield had a layer of dust and leaves so thick that even a short drive was risky.  It needed a good rinse.  To shorten the distance, I decided to drag the hose up a seldom-used, overgrown path up to the driveway.  Big mistake.  Struggling along, suddenly my foot went into a well-hidden squirrel hole and I really was on a roll.  Bette Davis was quoted as saying, "Growing old ain't for sissies."  She was right.  My fall was softened by a bed of Santolina so no harm done.  My daily problem now is loss of strength in legs and arms.  Once down, I can't get up.  I was in a pickle.  Nothing for it but crawl again, yes, again, to the front porch over gravel.  At least this time it was a short crawl.  Honestly, I had to laugh at the ridiculous sight of myself creeping along.  I'd left Michael in the house and behind the screen door he was visibly worried about my new form of motation (so was I).  Once on my feet, I still needed to rinse the windshield.  Gimping along on the 'real' walkway, I accomplished the deed, turned off the water, and made it back to my chair.  And stayed there.  Note to self:  only walk where you can see where your feet are going.

So far, so good with the power...no rolling blackout...yet.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Whole Lotta Nuthin'

I, for one, will be so glad and, yes, relieved when all this election business is over and done.  What with the virus still rampant, I have no idea of what the new 'normal' will be, but one can hope.  I am tired of the divisiveness and destruction.  People are out of work and protests appear to fill in time as well as get their voices heard.  We here are Americans first and foremost, something that seems to have been forgotten between political parties.  I am tired of getting sucked into the drama of the day.  How I wish that RBG could have hung on a few more months.  All I know for sure right now is that there is a whole lotta nuthin' getting done around here, and that, if nothing else, has got to stop.

Down at the big road was the place to be last evening.  Camille was dropping off her load of trash and neighbor Chuck was next in line.  He graciously offered to help me drag a bin across, and we all had time to say hi...at a distance.  It's the Fair Play meet-and-greet hot spot.  Michael, in his own quiet way, gets excited when he sees me gathering up trash bags because he knows he's going for a ride.  For some reason, just going down to the corner is even better than going for a ride to town.  Whatever it takes.

We'll see how long my resolution to accomplish something lasts.

Stay safe.  Be well.

PS:  PG&E has issued a notice that they may shut down power tomorrow.  Another whole lotta nuthin' coming our way.

Tenderfoot

No wonder Michael is such a great, well-trained support dog.  When he learns a thing, he doesn't forget.  I've mentioned before that, having been stung once on a paw, if he hears or sees a wasp or bee, it's "Buh-bye, I'm outta here!"  Perhaps it was that experience or maybe just his cautious nature, but I've never known a dog to be so careful of his feet.  Most dogs are oblivious to where they're walking or running.  Michael is not.  He carefully sidesteps any mown star thistle, picking his way in the field.  He's not fond of walking through drifts of dead leaves, sure there are painful lurking landmines.  He'd prefer the dirt road, and I feel bad that most of the driveway is gravel.  Michael is, in the strictest sense of the word, a tenderfoot.

The days are warming up again, but the nights have stayed cool.  The blanket is back on the bed, and I'm grateful for my warm bedfellows.  They're back in cold-weather routine, taking their self-assigned places.  I wake up in exactly the same position in which I fell asleep, having been nailed in place with a cat on either side.  They're very heavy sleepers (that's a joke, son).

Stay safe.  Be well.

Almost There

Quarter to seven and it's not quite light yet.  Even this seemingly endless year is coming to a close.  Minutes drag and months fly, or vice versa.  It broke my heart to do it, but I cancelled all holiday festivities with the Kids.  Thanksgiving is just around the corner, but I don't want them to take a chance on a get-together, and somehow dinner on the porch wouldn't have the same feeling.  Christmas is going to be a dud this year.

I'm still hobbling around, wincing with every step.  Who would have thought that those two steps up and down would have caused such a reaction.  It's getting better, and I'm about halfway to well.  One can hope.  I'm developing a new routine in the kitchen, dealing with the light, or lack of, situation.

On one of our (short) walks yesterday, I heard a new sound on the hill.  It seems  my neighbor has added a pig to her menagerie, and an angry one, at that.  Having lived with Louie all those years, nothing I know can go sonic like a ticked-off pig.  Welcome to the 'hood.  When we were looking to buy this place, I asked the realtor if there were restrictions on animals.  He looked at me and said, "You can have an elephant if you want one."  Steve visibly shuddered at the thought.  He was always glad that wombats weren't available, and that elephants weren't for sale in the pet stores.

Almost seven-thirty and the sun hasn't yet risen over the hills.  It's light enough for the turkey parade, so the day has begun.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Use It Or Lose It

Once upon a time, long, long ago I took five years of Spanish classes and became fairly proficient.  Now if I work hard at it, I can say hello and spoon, oh yeah, and fork.  At one time I also took three semesters of sign language.  With no opportunity to use it, now I fear I'd look like I was batting away flies.  I watch a lot of cooking shows, but with fewer opportunities to cook a meal, I'd worry about the outcome.  Years past, Steve's family formed a work crew and replaced two roofs for relatives.  It was my job to carry bundles of shingles up to the guys.  After having got myself stuck for hours on the roof years ago, I was banned from using ladders.  Uh huh.

In the kitchen there are seven recessed lights, the kind with those flat-bottomed bulbs.  One burned out some time back, but it wasn't critical so I just let it be.  I have plenty of spare bulbs and I'd get around to it one of these days.  Day before yesterday, a bulb over the stove burned out.  Well, that wouldn't do.  As long as I was at it, I'd change the other one, too.  A two-step step stool doesn't count as a ladder, right?  It seems I have become The Incredible Shrinking Woman and couldn't reach the light.  Given that the one over the stove island gives nothing to hang onto, it's always been a challenge, but I gave it the old college try, struggling with the two steps.  Okay, that was a no go.  The light over the cabinets should be easier and I wasn't about to give up.  Up the stool again.  The bulb that gives nothing to grasp refused to unscrew.  Down the steps.  Fate plays cruel jokes.  It became an epidemic of burned out bulbs.  Three more bulbs burned out in quick succession, and I am left with three working bulbs...none of which is in an area of need, and none is over the stove.

Not having used ladder muscles in lo, these many years, I didn't anticipate straining my hamstrings on two steps.  Michael got short shrift on his walks (my hobbles) and I spent the rest of yesterday in the chair, groaning and popping aspirin.  When the pandemic lessens and people are allowed my house again, I'll ask for help and...let there be light!  Until then, and only then, I'll have to remember to do any cooking before dark.  I should probably start some sort of exercise routine.  Or not.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Call Of The Wild

(Apologies to Jack London, "Call Of The Wild," 1903.)

The hills are alive ("Sound Of Music," 1965 film) with darned near every imaginable sound, from the tok-tok-tok and gobble of the turkeys to Harleys on the road or a trucker hitting the Jake Brake on the downhill run.  The one persistent rooster every morning doesn't yell cock-a-doodle-doo.  He sounds more like Johnny Weissmuller playing Tarzan (1930s-40s), swinging on a vine.  The recently acquired mule or donkey next door has a bray that sounds very much like a woman screaming.  There have been times I've turned off the sound on the TV just to be sure it wasn't.  When the mares come into heat, the whole neighborhood knows it.  With the many varieties of birds here, they are noisy, sure, but none are melodious songbirds like the meadowlarks we had in SoCal.  Oh well.

Come to the country, they said.  It'll be quiet, they said.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Rerun

My mother used to recite a bit of doggerel that goes, "Little red wagon, tongue is draggin.'  Second verse, same as the first."  It means absolutely nothing, but it does apply to the last couple of days.  Yesterday was spent much as the day before, mostly napping, but with the addition of a drippy nose and leaking eyes.  Yes, I have a cold.  With current world conditions as they are, any sign of illness is a cause for concern, but these are symptoms I recognize and can deal with.

Walking Michael is not a chore, but a pleasure, and it gets me up and moving.  I would love to let him run off lead, but am not willing to take the chance that he would run off property, as well.  He seems to have accepted his fate.  Being a companion dog is his job and he does it well.  One of the pleasures of our day is to sit at the picnic table under the live oak on our early evening outing.  Michael lies down to sniff and read the breeze while I sit and rest these old bones.  The tree is filled with birds coming home from work.  "Hi, honey.  How was your day?"  They chatter and rustle in the branches, raining leaves on Michael and me as they settle in for the night.  After a brief respite, we continue on our way out to the west field so he can finish his business before heading back to the house.

The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees last night.  I was grateful for my feline companions who were jammed up against me.  Their attempt to get warm helped me, too.  The blanket is going back on the bed today.  Nature doesn't take long to change her mind.

I'm not sure what today will bring.  I'm just happy I'm well stocked with tissues.

Stay safe.  Be well.

ZZZzzz

Sleep is my panacea for most of what ails me, and I made use of it yesterday...almost all day yesterday, and I make no apologies.  I did rouse enough to watch the VP debate, including the fly, and eat a few more Butterfingers (the little kind) before drifting off again.  Waking up, I decided I was being silly and went to bed.

I'm hoping to get more done today than just a couple of walks with Michael.  He was pretty wiped out after our jaunt to town, too (he's still snoring behind me).  One thing about chores...they wait and never go away.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Wipe Out

"Wipe Out," The Surfaris, 1963.

Boy, every trip to town really takes the stuffing out of me, but yesterday was one of the worst.  Traffic was as bad as I've ever seen it both coming and going.  Up here, ten cars in a line is a lot, and there were way more than that.  It was like there were mass evacuations in both directions.  What's up with that?

Every stop in town took longer than expected, partially due to Michael.  One, we had to go to a couple of places he'd not been before and there were all these new and exciting bushes, trees, and posts.  Michael never met a post he didn't like.  Walmart is doing some major outdoor renovations as they convert to a solar-panel system and nothing is as it was.  There were no indications that there would be no grocery carts in the store, but were out in the south-forty where I'd had to park.  Aarrgh.  Inside at last, Michael walked like royalty through the aisles, accepting accolades from his many adoring subjects.  We kept running into the same lady time after time.  She was riding one of those store go-carts, and had to stop to talk to the "bow-wow."  Even though I'd kept my list to a minimum, there were things I had to hunt for, taking more time still.

I'd gotten a late start, and the sun was going down by the time we headed home.  It's been years since I've driven after dark and I was antsy to make it in time.  Besides, I still had to unload the truck and get the trash down to the big road.  Made it with a few minutes to spare, but got a call just after I'd walked through the door and had to explain that I really couldn't talk just then.  Michael and I loaded back up in the truck and headed to the road with headlights on.  Even then, there was traffic.  One of the big bucks who hangs out in my garden area (can't call it a garden since I'm not growing anything) decided to race us on the dirt road.  When he was sure he'd won and I knew it, he turned and headed back up Gray Rock, well satisfied with himself.

All chores done, I was exhausted.  Dinner consisted of Butterfingers and whiskey.  (Don't judge me.)

Woke up very late this morning.  I'm still wiped out.

Stay safe.  Be well.

The Chosen One

Boy, when a totem chooses you, you stay chosen!  Ever since that day years ago when I was sitting on the granite grinding rock down in the south pasture and lizards started climbing up my leg to my lap, they've made it pretty obvious that I am theirs.  Leonard shows up on the porch every day now; sometimes he doesn't even run when I open the screen door (unless I have Michael with me).  He even came out to share time with my company.  Go figure.  It could be worse...look them up.  They have some pretty neat attributes to teach.

My affiliation with lizards goes way back.  I may have said that, as a kid, I would catch and bring home so many horny toads that my dad had a special, large! outdoor cage built for them all.  (My mother was not so pleased.)  I didn't know then what I know now about totems.

My plans for yesterday flew out the window when a couple of my usual bill-paying websites changed their format and refused to recognize me.  Yes, I took it personal.  Even the help of a chatroom tech couldn't get me through...it took over an hour for one guy to get it solved.  Needless to say, there wasn't enough time left to get to town and back.  Michael was disappointed.  Me?  Not s'much.

Since we're just getting into fly season, Leonard will be well fed.  Gotta keep your totem happy.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Try To Keep Up

After cleaning the kitchen and my most welcome company of the day before, yesterday was meant to be a day of rest.  While I didn't do much, I got sucked back into watching the news.  My head head started spinning like Linda Purl's in "The Exorcist."  Just when I thought political situations had started to calm, even briefly, here we go again and I cannot keep up.

Michael and I did not see any deer on our walks, but there are definitely more vultures.  Camille said she had seen a number circling over the hills last week, but not as many as in my trees and on my wires now.  I wonder if they're late for migration.  With all that's happened in this crazy year, I wouldn't be surprised.  I was going to say not much surprises me anymore, but then I turn on the news and am stunned.

I happen to like crispy roasted Brussels sprouts, and it turns out Michael does too.  We shared what I thought was going to be my dinner.  Remember when I said "no treats in the living room for Michael?"  How's that working for ya?

I managed to put off going to town for a day, but there's nothing for it but to suck it up and make the trip today.  Aarrgh.  At least it will keep me from turning on the TV.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Oh, Deer!

Twice in the last week and twice yesterday, while Michael and I have been on our walks we have surprised buck deer in the fenced, what-used-to-be the garden.  It's totally overgrown with grapevines, weeds, and a totally out-of-control wisteria.  A pomegranate tree struggles to survive, and I've never gotten to the fruit of the apricot tree before the birds.  I don't know what the deer are finding in there to eat, but there they are.  These are big healthy bucks, a three-point and a forked horn.  For a few seconds we stand and look at each other (Michael just looks, too) before they make a tremendous, effortless leap and bound over the six-foot fence and away.  Let me tell you, that can make your day.

I had a dear of my own yesterday.  Dave rode up on his motorcycle and we spent a few hours together on the porch.  I turned the sprinkler on in the struggling herb garden and we listened to and watched birds enjoy the spray and the newly filled bird bath.  Working out of town during the week, Dave's leisure time is limited, and I appreciated that he chose to spend some of it here.  When he left, our Love You's were nearly drowned out by the roar of his Harley.  Heard or not, they were heartfelt.

It was a good day.

Stay safe.  Be well.

About Time

It's about time I break the pattern and get something done around here.  For the longest while now, every day I've gotten sucked into watching the news.  I'm talking all day long, I've watched the news.  It's has been like seeing a real-life soap opera unfold with an unbelievable cast of characters and storyline and I'd feel compelled to follow the next episode.  Day after day, I've told myself I'd watch just one program, that this would be the day I'd catch up on chores, and then the next unreal event would happen and, zoot, I'd be hooked again.  The newscasters must be exhausted trying to keep up with the daily script changes...I know I am.  It's been very difficult to keep my political views to myself.  Walking with Michael has been a sanity saver.  He is, unlike me, an apolitical animal and has needs that must be met regardless.

Yesterday I took a baby step toward my goal and got the laundry done.  Not much maybe, but it was a start.  I didn't even hit the pause button, letting the drama go on without me.  In the afternoon I got a text from Dave, oldest son, saying he'd be up today.  Even though we'll be visiting out on the porch, the thought of company coming will be enough to light a fire under my bum and spur me to the To-Do list.  It's about time.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Cuddle Bug

I never know what Ralph is going to come up with next.  Cats are unique creatures, but Ralph is in a category all his own.  I've said before that we all have our places in bed, but Ralph has changed the rules.  Now we, Michael and me, take our assigned places on our pillows (sometimes Michael has to be reminded whose is whose).  Ralph comes in after lights out and starts to pat my face.  That's my cue.  As soon as I pet him, he lies down so that I can wrap one arm over and around him.  Sometimes he has to squeeze in because Michael hasn't left much room.  This has become our nightly ritual.  Ralph just can't go to sleep without a cuddle.  Go figure.

My daughter pulled me out of a pickle this week.  I don't know how it happened, but suddenly it was as if someone had flipped a dimmer switch on my cellphone and it was darned near impossible to see anything on the screen.  Even knowing how hard it is to give long-distance advice, I had to ask Deb for help.  Turns out she sent me a link to a "help line," but I couldn't see to access it on the phone, and the power was out so I couldn't go on line on the computer.  Aarrgh!  Flush toilets are not the only modern convenience it's hard to do without.  I felt like I'd lost my last link to the world.  When we finally got the power back, I was able to re-establish contact.  The computer guy gave great directions, but it wasn't easy because the phone was still so dim.  I almost gave up, but gave it one last try.  Ta da!  Let there be light!  The first thing I did was thank Deb.

Ralph is patting my shoulder.  He has trained me well and I know that means I'm to swivel my chair so he can cuddle on my lap.  Funny boy.

Stay safe.  Be well.

Fall Is Falling

What an aptly named season fall is.  Dead leaves come spinning out of the trees almost constantly.  Michael and I shuffle and crunch through drifts on our walks.  Falling acorns sound like mini-bombs when they hit the shed roofs or the truck.  It may be autumn for some, but it's definitely fall here.

That's in the front yard.  The back yard isn't quite there yet, and the oaks are still green.  On one of the 'dark' days, I noticed one of the leafy branches start bouncing up and down.  Hmmm, that must be a pretty big bird.  The movement stopped, and then started again a moment later.  Turned out to be an adolescent squirrel playing on a trampoline.  He'd start at the trunk and take a run out to the end of the branch where he'd get the most bounce to the ounce.  It doesn't take much to amuse a kid.

The grape harvest is almost upon us.  How do I know?  Because the coyotes told me so.  They are evidently very fond of ripe grapes and leave piles of purple scat here and there on the driveway, which they use like a freeway in the night, having made midnight raids in the vineyards.  Michael has to stop and 'read' the who, what, and why of every pile.

Turkeys are coming through in larger numbers every day, and I'm seeing more deer now, too.  The rut will start soon, if it hasn't already.

Cooler weather is predicted next week, another sign we're moving out of summer.  Whoopee!

Stay safe.  Be well.