Let The Games Begin

It's all about winning.  I may have mentioned my family is competitive.  It's in our DNA, passed down through my parents' genes, more from my mother, but my dad had his moments, too.  It could have been something as simple as finding a new word and challenging the other to spell it.  Mother beat Daddy with asaphoetida, and never let him forget it.  Most of their friends were poker players, while the aunts and uncles on my dad's side played dominoes; in particular, a game called Forty-Two.  Through the magic of the internet, I just found out that the game originated in Texas (Daddy's birthplace), and how to play.  I may have to look into that.  In the evenings at home, we played a lot of board games, Parcheesi being the favorite.  One time my mother and I were playing Tiddlywinks.  It wasn't going well for her and she kept losing.  I was just a little girl, but she wouldn't let me go to bed until she won a game and that wasn't until well after midnight!  We also played a lot of jacks.

Mother played a lot of fast and furious double-solitaire, probably the first card game I learned.  There was no quarter given.  My sister was pretty good at it, too.  Pat had seven children, and as they got old enough, Mother would teach them the game and play with them until they got good enough to beat her, then she'd take on the next oldest.  With Mother, it was always about winning.

My Kids could never avoid competition.  Their dad was an inveterate card player; poker, of course, but also pinochle.  My mother and his didn't speak for years until we invited them both to our house to play pinochle, and they overcame their differences for a monthly game.

This may explain why, when the Kids get together, the cards and chips come out and the table is cleared.  Let the games begin!

Bad To Worse

"Too Darn Hot" (Cole Porter song written for "Kiss Me, Kate") was the theme of the day.  I hadn't planned on doing much anyhow, but yesterday was the hottest yet and baked out any ambition I might have had.  My heart went out to my daughter who messaged me in the morning, saying that the air conditioner had quit in her office building and the windows could not be opened.  Aaargh!  About the time I thought it couldn't get any worse here (105 outside, 95 in), a high cloud cover put a lid on the sky, trapping the heat.  Then, oh no!, there were smatterings of rain to add humidity to the mix.  To get some relief, I soaked Bess and and then stood under the mist myself.  I was dry by the time I'd walked back into the house.  They're predicting another full week of these conditions.  That sends me right past sigh to sob.

Life goes on.  Cam has no ground squirrels down at her place, but she knows what a problem they are for me.  I'd been putting used cat litter down their holes, but she told me a friend of hers had good success with used coffee grounds.  It was worth a try so I put some into a couple of the burrows going under the porch and amazingly, it works.  I don't delude myself into thinking the little boogers have left.  They'll pop up somewhere else, but maybe it will keep the house from sinking like the Titanic someday.

I hated to do it, bringing the guys out in this heat, but I had to order another ten bales of alfalfa for the girls.  I make sure to take cold water to whomever is bucking the alfalfa to keep them hydrated.  It's hard work in any weather.

It doesn't cool off at night.  I don't even have a blanket on the bed, and a sheet is too much cover.  Thankfully, my bed mates feel the same way and don't snuggle up and we're all grateful for the ceiling fan that at least moves the air around.

Cold Soup

Holy Toledo, it was hot again.  I turned on the sprinkler in the herb garden in the morning, hoping to keep the struggling plants alive.  Little birds splashed in the birdbath and turkeys paraded slowly through the spray, trying to look like they weren't enjoying themselves.  I invented reasons why I needed to go outside just to get a sprinkle, too.

Pete and Jake were coming up and I made the supreme sacrifice and dusted, then faced my dilemma.  What in the world was I going to feed the guys?  Something healthy and not take a long time in the kitchen.  Something I could make with what I had on hand.  Hmmm.  Aha!  White gazpacho!  I had one cucumber and fortunately Cam filled in with the others on the condition I'd save her a bowl.  The soup was fully chilled by the time the boys arrived.  I was afraid that Jake would give me the same look Pete had the first time I offered cold soup, but he was up for it and, really, anything cold was welcome yesterday.

After lunch, Pete asked me to walk Jake though my spice cupboards.  My sister-in-law had done me the same favor when I was a new, young bride and couldn't boil water.  She explained flavors and what went with what for spices and herbs I'd never heard of.  Jake is just learning how to cook and was a willing student.  His eyes opened slightly when I showed him the first door, racks packed with bottles and jars.  Ha!  Those were just for cooking.  Then we went over to the door with baking spices, cinnamon, cardamom, and the like.  Some are interchangeable, of course.

We went into the living room to talk and the fellows stayed hydrated with water chilled with whole, frozen strawberries instead of ice cubes.  The afternoon passed too quickly, and I know Pete feels the same about the few days he has with Jake before his son goes overseas.  I'm so happy he was willing to share an afternoon with me.

Cam came up after the guys left to claim her fee for the loan of the cucumbers.  I'd made this batch with Greek yogurt instead of the sour cream I'd used in the past.  We couldn't tell much difference.

It was a good day.

H.O.T.

Heat rolled in waves off the barn and the latches were hot enough to sear skin.  The gate to the playpen and the back stalls is chain link.  I don't understand why, when the goats rub against it as they do, they don't come away with diamond-shaped brands on their shoulders.  There wasn't a puff of air, and we didn't spend any more time in the room than necessary.  Thank goodness the truck had A/C for the drive to Pete's.

Caught up in the moment, I usually forget to get a photo, but remembered this time.  Pete and Jake are in front, and Craig, Deb, and Dave are standing.  A motley crew, but mine own.

Jake was a shy young boy, and he has matured into a confident young man.  Changes are very apparent to me as I see him so seldom.  Even so, it's hard to think of him going so very far away, and I'm sure it is the same for his father.  I believe Jake is more excited about the next stage of his adventure.  His uncle Dave and his dad had been in the Navy and there was some good-natured ribbing about "squids" and "fly-boys."

Pete served probably the best gumbo I've ever eaten, loaded with andouille sausage and packed with flavor.  My opinion was shared because there was little to no chatter as we scraped our bowls, silence being the best compliment any cook can receive.

All too soon it was time to head home.  The celebration isn't over for me, however, as Pete and Jake are coming up today.  Woohoo!  I'm sorry to have to invite them in to the oven (Pete's house has air conditioning).  I wonder if they're too old to play in the sprinkler.

As the blazing sun shows, the day ended as it had begun...hot.

Water, Water

"Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink."  (The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner,  Samuel Taylor Coleridge.)

We're in another extended heat wave and I spend a lot of time watering:  the animals, the herb garden, and the deck and houseplants.  The plants are doing a lot of calisthenics as they droop and stand.  Timing is important as watering in the middle of the day outside would (1) boil the plants and (2) standing out in the sun would fry me.  The house is stifling and only the spray bottle by my chair keeps me going.  As often as possible, I take Bessie out and soak her to the skin.  Other areas in the country are flooding.  There is such a thing as too much water, but here I worry about running the well dry.  Water gives life, but it also takes it; the wild-thing pot claimed two more rats yesterday.

Animals will tell you their name.  I was wrong when I called one of the baby squirrels Ronnie yesterday.  His name, he said, is Raymond.  I stand corrected.  This place is almost deserted during peak heat.  All the squirrels go deep in their bunkers, only coming out after the sun begins to drop.

My grandson Jake has finished his basic and specialty training in the Air Force and will be deployed to Saudi Arabia.  He's coming in today to spend a few days with Pete before leaving, and the family is gathering this afternoon to say hi and goodbye, a bittersweet reunion.

Seeing Red

"Someone's been swimming in my pool and here he is."  I interrupted this little frog's bath in the water pot yesterday because it was half empty and needed filling.  Turned out he wasn't swimming alone, but the small rat at the bottom wasn't swimming anymore.  I don't like to find dead things, but can't say I'm sorry the rat population is down by one.

Rain or shine, hell or high water, it was salsa day.  All those beautiful tomatoes couldn't go to waste.  I started dicing.  And dicing.  And dicing.  The biggest ones, over a pound each, took forever and I was good for maybe four before I had to sit down.  It's a good thing I grew up with radio because I could listen to a TV program and not have to see it.  After several hours of seeing red, I took a nap.  A couple more hours of trimming, coring, and cutting and I was little more than halfway done.  I called Camille, "If I never see another tomato, it will be too soon!"

A short while later she was dusting cobwebs from under her patio cover and hit a wasp nest.  A quick getaway was in order so she brought a knife and came to help.  Finally the deed was done and the last tiny red cube went into the bowl(my two biggest mixing bowls were brimming).  The kitchen is the hottest room in the house and we were more than ready to go out on the deck and try to catch a breeze.

Stump is either a she or a single father, as there were little twins, Rhonda and Ronnie, lying in the shade by her side.  Stump went up under the oak to get a snack and Rhonda and Ronnie started playing tag and boxing and having a high old time.  Stump is a pretty strict parent because all that roughhousing came to a halt when she (I'm opting for female) came back.  Who needs TV.

Back to the kitchen again for more dicing.  Cucumbers, jalapenos, onion and garlic were added to one of the bowls for pico de gallo, and that was divided in two; one without cilantro for Cam and one with.  The other bowl of plain tomatoes was bagged up for future use and put in the freezer.

I'm definitely glad not to see red today.

Not Enough

It's not enough that this place is pockmarked and booby-trapped by squirrel burrows, there are more than a few ant holes (not hills).  This one is in the driveway and is at least four inches across.  I know nothing about the lives of ants, but I find it interesting that this particular hole shows up in the same spot every year.  Does the colony hibernate when the rains of winter fill in the hole with loose dirt and then re-emerge in spring?  How long does an ant live, anyhow?  Fortunately for these guys, they are not red ants whose bite burns like fire; those get boiling water poured into their hole.

I'm still plagued by tiny black ants in the kitchen, although not as many as before.  At least they've stopped going after the cat and dog food and they no longer travel in a long black train, but I've had enough of them.

There was enough gas in the tank to get to town (yes, again) and back yesterday, but that would have left less than a quarter full.  Never knowing when an emergency arise, it's so important to keep enough gas in the truck, so my first stop was in Mt. Aukum; in the opposite direction from P'ville, of course.  Of little interest, I did hose off the truck before leaving.

Ralph must feel he can't do enough to please Celeste, especially in the litter box.  She doesn't like the way he covers his scat and will do it "right," to the point where he may still be doing his business and she'll reach under and start the job.  Some days he just can't win.

That tray of tomatoes still sits on the counter.  The last couple of days there just hasn't been enough time to start and finish the salsa.  Camille and I evidently have different visions of salsa, in that she asked me if I had enough canning jars.  I make more of a pico de gallo, which can be bagged and frozen.  I haven't canned in years; it's too much work.  Regardless, today's the day.