In Memory of Buddy

My brother Jerry and his dog Buddy.

I have mentioned before that my family (on both sides) is fond of animals. We will all miss my brother's dog Buddy. Hugs, to little Bro' and Mo.

Merry Christmas!

John, Bob and I met for dinner Christmas Eve at my cousin's house in Plymouth. Chef Paul cooked a wonderful dinner, and even though it's been a very stressful year, we all enjoyed each other's company.

I hope you all have a peaceful day. Stay warm and happy. See you in January after my work project is completed.

The Kaiser Shoes

I just want to take a quick break from work to sneak in here and say that I finally found a use for my gargantuan Kaiser prescription shoes.

I want to throw them at George Bush.

I think it’s pretty awful that foreigners get to do this and we don’t. I demand equal rights.

Forget public opinion polls. Throw your shoes. Stinky ones, if you have them.

I don’t think the Iraqi shoe-tosser should go to jail. Maybe he has inspired potential terrorists to think about their methods. Killing people does not get your point across, it just makes everyone else mad at you. I’d donate to a fund to free the shoe-tosser.

Back to work.

Keeping up with Brangelina

While Brad and Angelina are out rescuing and adopting kids from here and there, I got an announcement today that new members have been adopted into our own family.

“Mark and Nancy D are pleased to announce the adoption of Dakota and Jackson, born approximately 13 weeks ago, to parents of unknown heritage.

“Dakota weighs in at 19 lbs., 8 oz, and Jackson weighs 14 lbs, 2 oz.  Friends and family are welcome to visit. Please call first to make sure the babies aren’t sleeping.”

Here’s Mark with the babies.


I know I’ve said before that most people on both sides of my family are very fond of animals. So, welcome to the family Dakota and Jackson.

Happy Thanksgiving

There are 4 younger members of the Blawat family and this Thanksgiving we were fortunate to have them all together. The only one not in this picture is Jen’s husband Jaime, who was manning the camera. So here he is with Jen and her mom Nancy (my cousin). They're all teachers.


It’s easy to smile with this bunch, they’re fun.

A Pain in the Foot

I need to start this by saying my feet are fine. And I’ve been working very long hours and I’m in a bitchy mood. I’m not saying nurses are evil, but sometimes it seems that way.

You may recall my tale in July about R. Footnurse, Ms. Gloomendoom. After previously telling me to declaw the cats and that I had toenail fungus, I was wondering what she’d come up with this time.

I get calluses on the 4-toed foot. I keep them soft with Bag Balm and can scrape them off with my thumbnail after a shower. Well the night before my foot appointment 2 weeks ago, a fairly large callus scraped off and left pink skin below it. Nurse Doomengloom took one look at that and said, “If that was my toe and I kept having problems with it like that, I’d have the doctor cut off the first joint. One of my other patients had that done.”

Oh sure, sign me up for that! Especially to avoid the annoyance of a callus.

Well, she wrapped my foot and put it in a Jones boot for two weeks just to be cautious. (This means you have to shower with a garbage bag duct-taped to your foot.)

Monday I went to have the wrapping removed.

Miracle of miracles! When they sent me to the casting room and took the bandage off, there was nothing wrong with the toe! That, of course, would be the toe that had nothing wrong with it to begin with.

I like the casting room. The two fellows who work there are fun. When I first went into the room this time, there was a patient a few feet away who was talking to a doctor. I couldn't help overhearing.

The doctor was telling him that his ankle needed surgery. The patient wasn’t thrilled. He had already gone through the same thing with his other foot a couple of years ago. The doctor said, “you can let it go for a couple of weeks to see what
happens, but no more than 2 because it could start to heal wrong.”

Finally the fellow sighed and said, “OK so when would you want to schedule this?” The doctor said, “today.” The fellow looked like he wanted to cry. The doctor got up and left the room to get the paperwork started. The fellow glanced over at me and I smiled.

“What a bummer!” I said. I felt obligated to make him feel better. “But look at it this way, if you were a dog, you’d have two more feet and might have 2 more surgeries to face.”

The fellow just kept looking at me.

I held up my foot with the 4 toes and said, “when I came in here a couple of years ago with a blister on my toe, they put me right in the hospital and hacked it off. I was there for 7 days. You’ll be out by this evening, and you’ll still have all your toes.”

“That’s gross,” he said. “If I pretend like you’re cheering me up, will you shut up?”

“Sure,” I said. “Good luck.” I waved bye bye with my 4 toes. He started snickering.

It turned out to be a good day.

John

People have asked about John. I’m happy to report he’s well and doing fine. He moved out a couple of years ago and is living up the road a ways. This isn’t his house, this picture was taken a couple of years ago in Idaho, but it’s a good representation of where he seems to be psychologically - in a peaceful place.

John still works at the farm next door and he stops by every day to feed Blue Top. He also just got a part-time job at Sac City College in the refrigeration department, so he has some new adventures to look forward to.

Baby Pix

Here’s a picture of Dusty and Bob when both of them were younger. I don’t remember what year Dusty was born, but I think Bob was 10. That would make the horse 12 now. The two boys played a lot. One of their favorite games was Hide N’ Seek. Bob would hide in the tall weeds and wait for the colt to come along, then jump up. The colt loved it. Bob would chase him for a while, then they’d switch and the colt would chase Bob.

Dusty was supposed to be Bob’s horse, but Bob preferred riding motorcycles. Also he turned out to be 6’2” and Dusty is not huge.

Fall Is Sorta Here

What was it today? 80 degrees, clear, and sunny? Typical mixed-up California fall. The trees are trying to do their jobs, though, there are lots of pretty leaves out there. These were some that were brought for “Out of Their Gourds,” a gourd workshop on Saturday. Several of us from work took a few hours off to enjoy each others’ company and decorate some gourds. Remember my before picture from a while back? Well, here is a “during” picture. I have the background finished and am contemplating what to do next.


It may be a while before I get back to it. I had a great day off today, though. George the cat, who doubles as an alarm clock, got me up early by sneezing in my face. I was supposed to be at Katherine’s at 10 to watch her ride Dusty. I went ahead and got up, got dressed, and went to Bert’s Diner for breakfast on the way. Had an avocado omelet with a side of bacon. Watched the ace waitress there flirt with all the guys - she’s very good. Before I left someone complimented my “wild” jeans with gold embroidery on the legs (hey, they were cheap) and I got hugged by a perfect stranger.

I watched Katherine ride Dusty. He’s doing very well with his gaits. Grumbling and griping about having to work hard and sweat, though. He reminded me of a 15 year old boy when you ask him to take out the garbage.


Katherine may get a chance to ride him on Mt. Diablo. That will give him a new appreciation for sweat and work. His grandma and his mother were ridden on Mt. Diablo. Not my favorite trails, but interesting and challenging.

Staying Busy

Please excuse my inattention to my blog in the next week or so. Work is extremely busy right now, I'm leaving home early and getting home late. The work is very complicated, I'm really pushing just to keep up. I'm soooo glad I love the people I work with.

The trees got trimmed, including the top 20 feet of the avocado tree, so the avocados got picked. There were at least a dozen.

One of my new Taganrog pigeons died. The other pair is sitting on eggs.

Bob just bought the new World of Warcraft. It came out yesterday. You will probably find him sitting in front of his computer 24 hours a day for at least 2 weeks.

The cats have declared a truce so they can all sit in the living room in front of the woodstove at the same time.

I'll write more when I get a minute or two.

Love you all!

More Thoughts on Boys

Yes, a couple of days ago I said that my little brother had been a pain in the butt. People will back me up on that. But even if you didn’t know him when he was young, you can just look at this picture and see it for yourself.


I assure you he grew out of that. Now he’s a big cuddly teddy bear kind of guy, like most of my uncles and cousins.

There was one bad effect of growing up with a brother who was a butt. Actually, my stepbrother was one, too, so I grew up thinking that’s how boys were. That’s how I expected Bob to be, so I may have been a little stern with him when he really didn’t deserve it.

Bob did inherit something from that side of the family, though. Remember when I showed you the photoshopped picture of him and said he has “Grandma Doris” hair?

Well, here is an unretouched photo of Grandma Doris. See what I mean?

More Thoughts on Christmas

Do you send Christmas cards? I have been known to send a few. But it’s like planting sweet peas, I never get around to doing it at the right time.

My work usually requires a big crunch until the day before Christmas, then we’re off for a week or so. I seldom have time to shop for cards or anything else. Many years there was not enough money until the last paycheck before Christmas anyway.

A couple of times I’ve tried to get a Christmas letter written — I always enjoy getting them from other people. In fact, there’s still a file here on my computer titled “Christmas.” Let me see. Yes, Bob was still in high school when I started jotting notes for that. It’s a little out of date.

Before Bob, and when Bob was little, I decorated the house and made a ton of cookies to share. Now, even though we have 40 acres of Christmas trees in the back yard, we seldom do a tree. It’s not that I don’t like that stuff, it’s just a lot of work to put up and then turn around and take down.

And the cookies! All the people I shared them with have either moved away or died, or are on dietary restrictions. I am diabetic, myself and eat a low carb diet. I’m quite happy with Adams peanut butter and celery, and though I can pass up cookies easily, as you all know, cookie DOUGH is an addictive drug. Last year I tried to make fake cookies for the other folks.

This is what it was like: take 2 cups of shredded cardboard. Mix with chemicals and chocolate. Real chocolate (dark) is actually OK. Bake.

Hmm, well, I didn’t taste them myself. All I can say is if you happened to drop a plate of them into the cat litter box, you’d never be able to discern them from the real stuff.

We haven’t forsaken Christmas entirely. We still like to go to Uncle Ray’s house on Christmas Eve. I didn’t get to do that last year, Bob and John went, but I’m pretty sure I can make it up the steps this year.

Bob and I have come up with some new traditions, too. We carry a little cash so we always have something for the bell ringers and the cardboard sign carriers. If we have breakfast out we leave a huge tip. We put the stockings on the mantle. Sometimes there’s only stuff in the stocking for the cats, but my Mom crocheted them so it’s fun having them out.

We have Ellen’s crocheted ornaments hanging from the mantle (I confess, 3 of them hang there all year) and on the ficus tree. Sometimes we put lights on the ficus. Sometimes Charley doesn’t rip it all down looking for something to play with.

I have some wonderful antique ornaments Aunt Bea gave us, and lots of old family ones, but I won’t put them up with Charley in the house. He’s never satisfied with the new toys in his stocking.

I’ve been trying to find a new Christmas tradition that involves Hawaii. Unfortunately it looks like work will interfere this year, and if I’m not working next year I probably won’t have enough money. It’s always something, isn’t it?

It doesn’t look good for Christmas cards this year. Katherine hasn’t designed any. I probably don’t need a newsletter because I already blab everything on this blog.

But I think I might get the sweet peas planted.

Christmas Cards

When my family lived in Camino, back in the 60s, my mom would take pictures of our red house in the snow and have Christmas cards made. I ran across a couple of them tonight while I was scanning photos.

I found myself wondering why she had pictures of the house instead of the family. Then I found this photo that was never used. This is my mom, my brother Jerry, and my stepfather. My brother is holding a Merry Christmas sign.


Now that I see this, I remember why Mom always used pictures of the house.

No offense little bro, but you were such a pain in the butt. I must have taken the picture because I wasn’t in it. My presence wouldn’t have been an improvement.

Lap Cats

Velcro thinks George is dumb and has bad manners. He likes laps, but doesn’t know what to do if the lap is full - of book, for instance. Velcro is Miss Manners. She knows how to find a comfy spot NEAR the lap.

George just plops wherever it’s convenient for him. Then hangs on. I have several scratches to prove it. But no more. Tonight he caught my chin with an errant claw, so I found the nail clippers and gave those slashers a trim.

I am working on pictures that aren’t just of cats. I wanted to get a photo of Bob in his Halloween outfit, but he and the group went to San Francisco to do their trick-or-treating. He left before I got home Friday night and didn’t get back until late last night. By this morning he’d cleaned all the fuzz off his face, so the costume won’t be as realistic. No, it wasn’t his gorilla suit. He can’t find that. (hooray! hooray! no more gorilla hairs in the dryer) Evidently he loaned it to someone who didn’t return it. Or maybe couldn’t return it. Has anyone heard of a gorilla getting shot in Sacramento county this year?

Next year’s costume is already in the works. The Star Trek patterns FINALLY got here. They were ordered 2 months ago. The darn things are pretty complicated, though, and there are no pictures, just a written set of instructions. The pattern for Captain Picard’s jacket says to buy “one black pigskin and two maroon pigskins.” Please. Have you ever seen a maroon pig? How would I sew pigskin on my little sewing machine? And do you suppose Captain Picard’s jacket was really made of animal leather? I think Bob’s will be naugahyde. Or maybe fake suede. I’m sure we’ll wish we had a replicator before this project is finished.

I may not be sewing on it at all. Bob can sew. He learned how to do that at the Waldorf school. He can knit, too. They didn’t just teach the kids to make a square, they knitted a sock. Turned the corners on the heel and everything.

He had already learned to cook in 4-H when he was eight: apple pie and pizza from scratch, biscuits and gravy, and stuffed Cornish game hens.

In public elementary school, they’re intent on making kids learn algebra so they can take higher math in high school, and can all go to college eventually and compete for science jobs that don’t even exist in the U.S. anymore.

I wish I’d known all this 25 years ago.

Coming Home

When I got home tonight - late, because we had a lot of work - Bob had a fire in the fireplace. The whole house was toasty and comfortable. Made me want to lay on the couch and purr with the kitties.

I haven’t been home to water the garden for a couple of weeks, so the rain we’re expecting to get tonight will be welcome. Fall has finally fallen in Northern California.

Anyone who’s praying for rain, please add this disclaimer - “...but NOT all in the same week.”

Thank you from my warm little house that sits in the slough.

Tales From the Zoo

Thursday last week, before I left for Ventura, we had another run-in with wildlife invading the chicken pens.

After midnight, I was awakened by one of Foghorn's warning screeches. Foghorn is a mixed-breed rooster with a very deep voice. He seems to be very alert (for a chicken) at night and lets us know whenever some strange thing is creeping around.

Suddenly the rooster's warning turned to panicked screeching. Bob was playing computer games with his headphones on. I yelled at him to go check the chickens, and he grabbed a flashlight and his flip-flops and ran out the back door. It took me a while to follow, hobbling along with my cane.

I got to the pen in time to see Bob beating something with the leaf rake. It was an opossum.

Sproing. Sproing. A leaf rake is not a very effective weapon. “I think we need to buy a gun,” Bob said. I handed him a shovel instead. That worked fine.

Foghorn had run out of the pen when Bob went in, so we had to track him down and try to catch him. It’s not easy catching a panicked chicken in the dark, but Bob did it. The bird was OK, but he’d had the first joint of one wing, with all the primary feathers, chewed off.

I know from talking to other people that many have had losses from predators this year. Raccoons, neighbors’ dogs, skunks, weasels, river otters, coyotes, foxes, even a bear. Everything likes to eat chicken. Even other birds: hawks and owls.

Whenever I hear someone go on about how chickens should be “allowed” to run free, I know the person talking has never raised chickens. I have mentioned this before. This is not a statement about Prop. 2, just about trying to raise a few chickens in peace in your back yard. Bob says, "I hate to kill something that's just looking for a meal." But it's no fun dealing with mutilated birds, either.

The rest of the animals here at the zoo are starting to calm down a little. I’ve sprayed Nature’s Miracle in the critical locations and the cats seem to be remembering their litterbox manners. Here is Gollie, checking out a pair of stinky slippers and probably wondering why THEY haven’t been sprayed.


Velcro has moved back to the living room couch and is behaving pretty well. Last night she was on the kitchen counter and wouldn’t get down. Finally I noticed a sack of corn sitting there. Bob brought it home from the Corn Stand - the last day for corn this year. We had it for dinner. Velcro had some, too. She loves corn.

More From Ventura

It took me a while, but here is Katherine at her art booth with the same bunny ears hairdo she gave me at the belly dance show earlier this year.


Bob and I had a lot of fun at poultry shows over the years. I don’t show anymore. I could probably wash a couple of birds and get them to a show, but I can’t handle raising 100 chicks a year to get a half dozen good ones, and a lot of work is required to keep them in show shape. I considered rebuilding pens so it would be easier to take care of birds, but I’ve decided not to do that. It’s time to move on.

The poultry club we belonged to is going through a period of idiocy. This seems to periodically befall all clubs whose primary focus is a hobby. Some people just get too tied up in it and their unreasonable demands make everyone else miserable. Or uncomfortable, at the least. Like most volunteers, I liked to help out because it was fun. The fun is gone for me. I don’t have time anymore for something that isn’t fun. I’ll try to get to a show once in a while to visit all the wonderful friends we’ve made over the years, and to see the birds. I still love chickens.

I did buy some birds in Ventura. I got two pairs of Taganrogs. Those are really cute teeny little pigeons.


Pigeons are easy, you can turn them loose after a few months and watch them fly around the yard.

We went to Ventura on I-5 and came back on US 99. On both routes there were several almond groves that were totally dried up and dead. Does anyone know what that’s all about? Did the price of almonds tank or something? It seems like such a waste to let the trees die.

We’re getting into a really busy time at work. I’m glad I was able to get away to Ventura when I did. Tina was right. She said “You’ll love Ventura. I visited there as a kid in Girl Scouts and fell in love with the area - there’s just a different feel to it from other beach towns.”

And traveling with Katherine is fun. She’s a good driver and she has great music on her iPod.

Trip to Anywhere

Guess where I’ve been? Nope, not Hawaii. Ventura. I went to the 135th Annual APA (American Poultry Association) National Convention and Show with my chicken, art, and horse friend Katherine.

Before we got very far in the van stuffed with art stuff and show chickens, we had to stop at a Best Buy in Stockton. Katherine used a GPS system to find it. Wow! That was a new experience. I think it would be fun to get a GPS, have someone put in a random destination, then just follow the instructions and take a Trip to Anywhere.

But this weekend we had other things to do.

The fairgrounds in Ventura is right on the beach. Usually poultry shows are at fairgrounds in exciting places like Bakersfield and Stockton. And most fairgrounds are old and are surrounded by crumbling neighborhoods. The grounds in Ventura, however, are in a beautiful location. And you don’t even have to drive through LA to get there. Just turn right when you come down off the Grapevine, and drive about 30 miles through avocado and citrus orchards.

Katherine took her art display and set it up at the show. Here she is with the card rack. The booth is in the same room with a couple thousand chickens.


The booth makes a good place to sit and watch people going by. I got to see lots of old friends and made some new ones.


More to come.

One More "Kid"

Brent somehow managed to miss getting into the group photo at the wedding. Here he is, Brent, man of mystery.

And dimples.

The First Wedding

Today the first “kid” in Bob’s group of friends who have known each other forever got married. Most of the group was there so it was a good occasion to take pictures. I’ll not tell last names on this blog, but for those of you who have also watched these kids grow up, I’ll identify them by first names: Travis, Alex, Jen, Erinne, Gwynessa, Julie, Stephanie, Kyle, Josh, Anthony, Bob.


Seven of them did 4-H together for at least 10 years. Nine started elementary school together. Three are Bob’s classmates from home school high school. One is a classmate from the Waldorf school. Here is a neat statistic: two of them are Julie’s ex-boyfriends, one of whom was her man of honor.

A note to parents of small children - put your kids in small schools, if you can. Put them in 4-H, or girl scouts, or some local group where they can be with their friends in a stable group as they grow up. Make your house open to them, and love them all, even when they go through the twerp stages. These kids (and the 8 or so who couldn’t make it to the wedding) give each other more than money could buy.

Here’s another statistic. Seven of these kids had parents at the wedding and we all had a good time visiting and remembering all the times we spent driving kids around. In retrospect, it was time well spent.

One thing at the wedding was really funny. When it was time for the bride to throw her bouquet and the groom to toss the garter, the girls and guys all joined the group, but stepped back and put their hands in their pockets. “Nope, not me, I’m not next in line for this wedding stuff yet.”

I was amazed that Bob found clean clothes to wear. He looked very nice if you couldn’t see the creases in the shirt that he just took out of the package that morning. And if you didn’t notice his socks.


This is Bob and Kyle and Alex. Jon should be in this picture, but couldn’t attend the wedding because the tech department at Apple couldn’t function without him.


In 4-H these fellows were Chicken Boy, Goat Boy and Rabbit Boy. And each took a turn at being the director of 4-H Camp.

Of course, whenever you have to dress up, you take advantage of the opportunity to have your picture taken. Here are Bob and I. Thank you, Donna!

Just Another Day

The cold concrete floor on the back porch finally got to Velcro. She has moved back onto the footstool in the living room, right in front of the wood stove. We haven’t had a fire since she moved there, but she’s ready, just in case.

I’ve been letting George go outside for a while in the morning. All the cats seem happier with that. I’m not. All I see is more vet bills in the future.

Charley is still studying ways to annoy us all. He’s always tried sticking his snoopy nose in our drink cups. That might make sense if you’re drinking milk. But coffee? If he’s not slurping it, he’s pretending. I thought I’d foil him by using the narrowest cup I have, but his head is very small and pointy and he’ll work really hard to get that last drop left in the cup.


Another bad habit of his is to knock over half-full glasses or cups. He takes his paw, puts it inside the vessel, and pulls it right over. This is always fun after one of Bob’s parties when there are half-full glasses of Coke or cheap beer all over the place.

But you gotta love Charley. For all his tricks, he’s the softest, most cuddly cat ever. Here he is in a Costco cat house. All of the cats love it, so Charley hogs it.


This is a cat house from Pet Smart. None of the cats use it.


Sort of like buying toys for kids when they’d rather just have a big refrigerator box to play in. Or in Bob’s case when he was little, a mud hole.

Blast From the Past

I work in education. It’s a big deal right now that there are so many minority children in our schools. They are used as an excuse sometimes for schools that don’t achieve the state’s academic goals.

But where I grew up, which is right where I still live, we always had a diverse population of students. This is the first grade in 1955. (Not mine, my brother’s.) There are 5 little white bread kids, 3 Hispanic kids, and I think a Japanese boy. Even though this wasn’t my class, I remember all their names. It wasn’t unusual for us to know everyone in grades 1 through 8 of our little school (no kindergarten),

There were actually more kids in this class. At least one girl whose parents had cattle in the mountains and didn’t move back to the valley until a month of so after school started every year. And there were a several more Mexican kids whose families didn’t come until spring and left in the fall after hops had been picked. We had students who barely spoke any English sometimes.

I don’t recall that any of this was a problem. Kids were pretty much judged on their own merits, and in those days academic excellence was not the only measuring stick. You had an opportunity to be good at volleyball, dodge ball, tetherball, folk dancing, singing, and any number of other things that didn’t involve books. The playground was pretty much kid territory, the teachers stayed inside and maybe watched out the window as they smoked their cigarettes.

The teacher of this class was Mrs. Butler. She taught us all to read in first grade, I don’t recall that it was that difficult. Her class was first and second grade. I don't recall that was a problem, either.

Nowdays it’s a big deal to have all students reading by third grade, and it’s sometimes not accomplished, schools say, because there are so many kids whose parents don’t speak English. Our school was at least half Hispanic.

My cousin Nancy is one of the kids in this class. She was a teacher herself until she retired. Maybe she has some input on this subject. Maybe there WERE kids who were getting left behind then, and I just didn’t notice it because it was no big deal. There was no state-mandated test in those days that pressured schools to pressure kids.

It just seems like things worked better, though.

I’m having a lot of fun going through the old pictures and scanning them. Here is one of my baby brother and I from 1951.

Harvest Time

This is a really busy time of year at the Corn Stand, as it transitions into a Pumpkin Stand. There is still corn, and tomatoes, melons, and all the good things that have been producing all summer, but the weather has started to turn so the goodies will be going away soon.

The bell peppers are at their best right now, thick-fleshed, juicy and sweet. Time for stuffed bells. Yum!

Here is my harvest. An avocado. It was blown down by the wind. The tree is 40 feet tall because we haven’t had a hard frost in a couple of years, there’s no way you could get to the fruit to pick it. You just stay out from under the tree when the wind’s blowing, then pick the crop off the ground when it’s calm. Not much guacamole from this little thing.


It’s noon right now, and even though it’s a sunny day, there’s a nasty north wind blowing and it’s chilly. I was outside planting bulbs, and the soil is already chilly. Last night I had the first fire of the season in the wood stove. Gollie cat heard the wood box door open and was waiting in my chair. We sat under a snuggly blanket and enjoyed the fire. As usual, the sound of the fan and the purring cat put me right to sleep and there I stayed until 2 a.m.

I finally got up and went to bed, where Charley and George were waiting. The cats - remember - those names belong to cats? I just got comfortable in bed when there was a commotion in the chicken pen and I had to get dressed and go see. Bob was out all night, or I’d have just yelled at him to do it. Darn! It takes me so long to do anything, by the time I get out there everything could be massacred.

The Anconas - the few that are left - were off their perch, on the ground. Something had scared them, but they all seemed OK. I trudged around for a while then checked the chicken house. Nothing lives in there anymore except a few pigeons that come and go. My flashlight found a kitty. A black kitty with orange. A very dark calico, so obviously a female. She didn’t look extremely wild, but not friendly either. Once again, someone has dumped a cat at my doorstep. Probably the same person, someone who thinks they’ve found an ideal place for dumping. Someone, if I had a shotgun, who would end up with a butt full of buckshot and their ears full of nasty words as I beat them senseless with my cane.

This newest cat is going to have to survive outside. She seemed to be hunting mice and there may be mice out around the chicken pens, if Trudy missed a few. This cat seems a little cagier than George, hopefully she’ll learn to stay out of Trudy’s range. She seems to have convinced the pigeons to evacuate the building, something raccoons never managed to do. I don’t think she can actually harm a chicken, they’re all full grown and big. If she does, we’ll have to trap her and take her to SPCA. Which is where she should have been taken in the first place.

We are still living in a cat war zone here in the house. Bob suggested a couple of days ago that we should try to find a better home for George. I called the vet’s office for some cat psychology advice, and was also advised that might be the best thing to do. “Will the other 3 cats go back to their old peaceful ways?” I asked. “Maybe.”

Or maybe Velcro will live the rest of her life in a carrier on the back porch. And Charley will never again remember that there is a cat box and that it’s the proper place to poop.

What I want to know is how the little old ladies manage to cram 86 cats into a 2 bedroom condo, when I can’t even get 4 of them to get along.

Meanwhile, here I am, one cat on my lap in charge of the keyboard, and the other in charge of the monitor.


I need another cup of coffee. Or something.

Horse Talk

This is mostly for you readers who share my horse background.

I have been horse crazy as long as I can remember. Many of my friends are folks I met while pursuing equine activities. And even though I can’t ride these days, I still have 2 horses. Blue Top is 22 or so and has been John’s riding horse all these years. Dusty (Champagne Dust) is 11 or 12 and is the grandson of my favorite riding mare of long ago, Big Ears. Blue Top is out in the pasture with That Goat. Dusty is at my friend Katherine’s. Dusty and Katherine are learning about gaited horses.

Katherine is a good rider who has only ridden horses that trot. Dusty doesn’t really know one gait from another yet. So to help K with the task of teaching Dusty what to do, we went to a gaited horse show this past weekend.

Until 1976 I went to horse shows regularly. Horse shows have changed a lot.

First, there used to be a lot more entries. The show on Sunday was for Tennessee Walkers (TWH), Missouri Foxtrotters (MFT), and Peruvian Pasos (PP). Most classes were lucky to have 3 horses in them, several classes had been cancelled for lack of entries. Even so, I thought it would be a good educational experience because there were 3 different gaits to study and compare.

The first class was for TWH. The horses started at a flat walk, then the running walk was called. When they had gone around the ring once, K said, “I must be gait-lexic. I don’t see the difference between this and the first gait.”

Hmmm. That’s because there WAS no difference. Not in speed or execution.

In the good old days, TWH classes were exciting. When I was in high school, I was fortunate to be part of Northacres Stable. We took horses to all the county fairs and other shows that had a TWH class – San Joaquin, Amador, El Dorado. After a boring western pleasure class, the TWHs would come in and wake up the audience. We all wore bright jackets, the horses wore bright ribbons and the horses themselves came in bright and unusual colors. When the running walk was called, it was like a race. The horses tore around the ring (admittedly in a variety of gaits) and the audience came alive, yelling and hollering for their favorite. And there were 3 gaits, the third was a rocking-chair canter that also impressed the audience. It was tons of fun.

No more. Borrrrrr-ing.

A couple of the horses had a technically proper gait. ONE good gait that passed for two. In most classes they weren’t even shown at a canter. The TWH at this show that weren’t doing exactly the right gait were still close. No pacers or rackers.

The MFT were a different story. After a couple of times watching them go around the ring K said, “It looks like they’re just trotting to me.”

And so they were. One horse didn’t even come close to a foxtrot during the entire class. The other hit a step or two, but mostly just trotted. Gaaaaack! So we used the opportunity at least to study the difference between a trot (a diagonal gait) and the lateral gaits that the horses in the warm-up arena were doing.

Katherine did get to learn a few things about gaited horses.

I got to learn a few things too. Mainly that horse shows – probably all animal shows – are an artificial environment. The “ideal” horse and gaits are based on whatever trend is popular at the time. People who have shown over the years just absorb whatever trend is current. If you are observing a slice out of time, however, the difference is stark.

I rode in competitive trail rides for years after I left the show ring and gained a different appreciation for gaits. It doesn’t matter so much on the trail if a gait is “proper.” It’s more important that it be comfortable and safe for the horse and rider. So I don’t really care if horses are shown these days at a more “proper” gait.

TWH classes used to be fun to watch. And now they’re not.

Successful Gardening

The guys at the corn stand planted zinnias earlier this year, and they bloomed all year. They're at their best right now, just as pumpkin season is starting. I love this cheery view as I'm on my way to work in the morning. I confess, sometimes I swipe a bouquet.

Sort of successful was my attempt to grow a Black-eyed Susan vine. The vine grew all summer with nary a bloom. Now that the end of the season is here, it’s covered with blossoms that look like a little kid drew them with crayons. I wish they'd bloomed earlier. I think it's an annual vine, so its days are numbered.


This patch is also probably at the end of its season. Sweet potato, coleus, vinca and hibiscus. Do you suppose I’ll get any sweet potatoes? If we don't get a frost this year (we didn't get one last year) I could be in real trouble if the sweet potato keeps spreading.

Broderick Crawford Day

It's 10-4!

Happy Broderick Crawford Day
to all my friends.



http://www.highwaypatroltv.com/photos.shtml
(you can't click on this, you have to cut and paste - I don't know how to do real links)

Broderick was the crusty actor who played Chief Dan Mathews on the TV show Highway Patrol. He made 155 episodes from 1955-1959. He was actually in hundreds of movies and things - he was even on Saturday Night Live once - but I only remember him from Highway Patrol.

October 4 is Broderick Crawford Day because in every episode Dan Mathews could be seen yammering on his radio, and he always ended the conversation with a loud and curt "ten-four."

OK, so maybe I invented this holiday and no one else in the world celebrates it, but we SHOULD. It's completely non-commercial, you don't have to spend a dime.

To celebrate appropriately, you could wear a fedora, talk fast, and smoke a lot of cigarettes.

Charley's Toys

Charley has many toys. We buy some, and some are things he steals out of our drawers (like my hair bands) and turns into toys. Charley loves to fetch. He’ll bring toys back to you until your arm is paralyzed from throwing them.

When I got home yesterday, I was anxious to sit down and read my mail. But before I could enjoy myself here came Charley with a toy he dropped at my feet. I bent over to pick it up and throw it for him, and it moved. It was alive. A mouse, a real mouse, not a toy one.


I gargled. That’s because I’ve never been able to scream, I sort of shriek and gargle. I’m not afraid of mice, but it was a nasty surprise. What kind of idiot mouse would sneak into a house with 4 cats?

I called Bob at work (right next door) and asked him to come home and dispose of the thing. He said he’d do it in a couple of hours when he got off work. “Charley took it into your room,” I lied. No deal, he wasn’t coming home.

I finally caught it myself and tossed it out the back door onto the lawn. Give the thing a chance to ponder its mistake and find a new job. Oops! Eagle-eyed Trudy saw the intruder on the lawn, swooped down and packed it off. No wonder we haven’t had a mouse problem.

It’s still not very peaceful here in the cat house. Velcro stays in the carrier. I can bring the carrier into the rest of the house, but she won’t leave it.


Ah for the good old days (a couple of weeks ago) when the cats all got along, when they’d even sleep on the same bed. Ironically, George is the only one that’s really behaving. I guess I should keep him and ship out the other three.

So I’ve been interviewing replacements. These are 3 Norwich Terriers that belong to Mellie. You already met Phoebe a while back. The two blondies are Miles and Cindy Lou the Possum Killer.


(You all KNOW the cats aren’t going anywhere, right? But these doggies are sure cute.)

Dealing With Change

The title for the previous blog was supposed to be CAT Mad House. It still is.

Velcro sat in the carrier for a couple of hours. I took her in the carrier out to the back porch later in the day. She crept out, ate and drank, and crept back into the carrier. She’s been on the back porch in her carrier since then. That’s OK, it’s only 4 steps from the cat box, so she has no excuse to pee on things. Once in a while, like when I cook dinner, she pokes her nose around the curtain between the porch and the kitchen, but she won’t leave her comfort zone yet. Not even for tuna.

Meanwhile, Bob and I are making a big step. We got a membership at the health club up the road and are going to start working out. I’ve worked beyond my fake bike and little weights. Bob is in dire need of exercise, after moving only his mouse hand for the past couple of years. I take that back, he’s been working a lot of hours at the corn stand recently, so he’s been moving his fingers on the cash register too.

I heard from Auntie Mo recently. She retired from teaching, and it sounds like she’s having a great retirement. She takes adult classes at Chico State and volunteers at the local charter school. A lot of my friends and relatives have reached retirement and seem to be loving it.

I’m really fortunate to work with people I love and do work that’s always challenging. The nicest thing this year is I don’t have to figure out how to deal with the challenges myself, the younger folks are doing that, and doing it very well. It’s been fun to see what they come up with. I’ve gone from the person who pulled everyone else along through the computer world several years ago to the one who is the stick-in-the-mud. (Show me a better way to do things and I’ll jump right on it; but things are not necessarily better just because they’re different or new, by cracky.)

At least I’m not hiding in my carrier on the back porch.

Car Mad House

What an almost-wasted weekend!

The good part was traveling up the road yesterday afternoon and seeing friends I haven't spent time with in many years. They've been in their "new" place for 9 years and this was the first time I've seen it. Let's forget how sad that is and concentrate on the fact that I actually got up there (it's a whole 30 minutes up the road) and that it was fun.

And it was sooooo nice being out of this cat mental hospital for a while. Velcro has totally lost her mind, the cats are in chaos. The old cat has always been most gracious and well-mannered. Now she is a snarling bitch. (No, that's a female dog, what's a nasty female cat called?) She holes up in one of the bedrooms and won't come out. Now, she can live for a long time without food because she's pretty chubby, and she must be getting water somewhere because she's peeing on everything. That's what cats do when they're pissed off.

So I spent the rest of the weekend doing laundry. It's a losing battle. You just get a load dried and folded, and here comes a cat to sleep on the clean pile.


I caught Velcro this a.m. and put her in the soft carrier, then put that on the walker and pushed her to the back porch where there is food, water, and the cat box. When I let her out, Charley and George wouldn't leave her alone so she smooshed herself behind the dryer. I had 8 loads of drying to do today, so that wouldn't work.

When Bob got home for lunch, we teamed up and dragged her out of there. I put her back in the carrier and put it right in the middle of the floor where she just had to deal with life. Charley immediately jumped on the carrier and sat on it for a while, then got off and stared through the netting, anything to be annoying. George watched.


I've totally had it with cats this week.

Do they make drugs for cats? Valium or something? Is there a Dr. Phil for cats?

Bob says bring in the big dog carrier and put all 4 of them in it for a week.

Dusty Works

This is K’s neighbor, riding Dusty so K can see what he’s doing. Dusty does a little of every gait imaginable. It’s not easy to sort them out. This is everyone’s favorite - a smooth little canter. A Tennessee waltz.

It’s hard to explain to a hunt seat rider and a western rider how to get the right gait from a gaited horse. The language I learned 40 years ago doesn’t translate well. For example, “bust him loose,” and “he’s too square.” And I usually heard those phrases with a few cuss words on either side of them. Horse training is so much more civilized these days.

These pictures were taken by K on my new camera.

Gourd Art

Here is the gourd I did in class. Well, I started it in class. It took a good bit longer than that to finish it.

Without the leaves, it looks like a bomb from one of those old cartoons.

Not Enough Weekend

I got a lot done, but ran out of time. This a.m. I went through 3 big boxes of books. These had already made the rounds through my book-trading buddies, so it was my turn to find a home for them. Two friends at work had already rifled through and snatched 2 bags. I pulled out a couple of bags for the kids at SCOE’s court school, then took the rest to the SPCA for their book sale. I also left a little cash there. I’m hoping next time someone will take their unwanted cat to SPCA instead of dumping it on my doorstep.

Green Acres, the flower nursery, is on the way home from SPCA. I HAD to stop there and look at the winter bedding plants and bulbs. Of course I had to bring a few home. I also brought a bag of ladybugs. I know, it’s not the right time for ladybugs, but I felt so sorry for the bugs in the bag. They were begging for their freedom, I could hear them.

Blue Top had a little work this weekend too. He gave pony rides. Brianna and her mom Stacy brought a group of 4 little kids over and BT patiently plodded around for them.


Brianna and Stacy hide behind BT so a mom can take a picture of her young lady “riding.”

I have a picture of Bob at this age on Neva’s horse. He’d been on trail rides before he was a year old. Those were the days between our “old" lives as interesting people and our new lives as “parents.”

I stayed outside until dark and got a few things planted, then I came in and started my new project - decorating a gourd. This is the before picture.

It may be a long time before you see the finished product. I’ll take my camera to work tomorrow, though, and take a picture of the gourd I finished in gourd class. Why did I take it to work? No one to show it to here at home. The kitties and Bob are only interested in things that are edible.