But Some Birds Are Not Cute

I let the young pigeons out of their cage this morning. I came home to feathers scattered all over the yard. One pigeon was dead and the other came flying to me, scared to death. It appears the hawk is still around here. Sigh.

Sometimes it's so hard.

Birds Are So Cute

The baby pigeons are full grown and have been flying around the yard now that the hawk seems to be gone. They do a better job of flying than they do landing, but they're learning.

Yesterday afternoon I was cleaning pens and they helped me. One was on my shoulder like Captain Hook's parrot, and the other was on my head. Finally I gave up and just sat in a chair with them. Then Bob came out of the house with the three chicks. He put them in the flower bed to scratch around while we were sitting and watching them.

The pigeons were entranced by the chicks' peeping and running around. They flew down close to the chicks, which scared the chicks, of course, and sent them running until they figured out they weren't going to be eaten. The pigeons started picking up seeds and rocks and heading toward the chicks. I think they intended to feed them, at least their behavior was like a parent pigeon toward its babies.

Pigeons like round things. Baby pigeons can swallow pretty big stuff, as long as it's not rough. My pigeon babies were sorting through the stuff on the ground. When they found something round they'd try to pick it up. One would drop it and the other would pick it up. It started to look like a game. The chicks were curious about all the stuff rolling around. Bob said, "It's going to be the Chicks vs. the Pigeons in a soccer game."

It didn't happen, though. George the cat came sauntering around the corner. Bob grabbed the chicks and put them back inside. The pigeons flew up on the roof and stayed there until almost dark. I went out and "put them to bed." They landed on my shoulder and walked down my arm into the cage.

Birds are so cute.

On the River

Went rollin’ down the river last Sunday. It was friend Debbie’s 50th birthday. Or actually a celebration of her last day of being 49. We met at her sister’s house, did a scavenger hunt, then boarded a boat in Old Sacramento for a short trip up and down the Sacramento River between the Virgin Sturgeon and Scotty’s (two restaurants). We were treated to dinner on the boat.

I don’t remember what I did for my 50th birthday. Were you there? What did we do? I don’t think it was as exciting as being on a boat. Bob was 10 then. I probably came home from work as usual and harped at him to do his home work. Or was that the year we had spring flooding?

This is me, Deb, and Cindy. We all met as 4-H parents and our kids have grown up together. We're beginning to be old friends.

Prince Mike

Bob and I got a new microwave at Best Buy this week. Following our new goals, it's smaller and simpler than the previous one. Shopping was easy, instead of comparing features and dividing them by the cost, we just said, "Gimme the smallest one you have that will pop corn."

I was comparing electric bills with someone at work. Her house is a similar size and she got a bill from PG&E for almost $500 last month. Ours was $95 from SMUD and we had the fan going all night every night. The extra insulation we had blown in a couple of years ago just keeps paying for itself.

I also got my old digital camera fixed at Best Buy - for free! Bob took it to India and brought it back with a couple of screws missing. The geek at Best Buy brought out a bowl full of extra screws and found a couple that worked fine.

Now we're working on finding new frame bars for Bob's back pack. He got a good pack when he was in 8th grade and his class went to Mexico. He lost one of the aluminum frame bars using it as a makeshift sword. (Sometimes boys are such idiots.) Bob and buddies are preparing to do some hiking and backpacking. Anyone interested in a day hike on the Pacific Crest Trail between Hwy. 88 and Hwy. 50 in September?

In other news, the chicks in the kitchen are growing, the baby pigeons are grown and learning to fly, Velcro is still behind the dryer on the back porch, and I still haven't figured out how to stay on my bike.

Warming a House

Some of us from work went to a colleague’s housewarming party last Friday evening. It is in a development for people over 55, which doesn't appeal to me personally, but a lot of people like them. Having lived in an ancient house all my life, new homes are interesting. This one was very comfortable, graciously and tastefully decorated, an easy place to relax and enjoy each other’s company.



I love the folks I work with, it's always fun to spend time with them.

State Fair

I got to go to the California State Fair the day before it opened. My friend Katherine was sent a special invitation so she could pick up her award. Her art is a scrumptious piece of scrimshaw in the little frame to her right. It’s a very big deal to even get invited to the show, let alone to win an award there.


Katherine's work is very detailed and meticulous. Many of the artists whose work was displayed at the fair seem to share her love of detail.

These are two quilts that represent a lot of hours of work. There were traditional quilts as well. These caught my eye because of the colors.



This piece of stained glass is also a favorite of mine, not just because it's beautiful but because the subject is dear to me. I still miss Rudy. I’ll pretend this depicts the two of us in the garden. Actually Rudy was more handsome than this bird, but I’ve never been as lovely as this woman, so I guess it evens out.

The picture doesn’t do justice to this next piece. It’s made entirely of toothpicks glued together. It represents the city of San Francisco. When I see something like this, I don’t know whether to feel lacking because I’ve never devoted my life to such a project, or to feel like the artist definitely had too much time on his hands. And how in the world did he get it to the fair in one piece?

This is a close-up. I guess you have to see it in person, it doesn’t come across as well in a photo, but you get the idea.


For many years Katherine was a part of the Fur and Feathers exhibit at the fair. I spent a few years there myself, as a 4-H leader. The fair offers unsurpassed opportunities for kids who are willing to work hard. Katherine was one of them. Bob was another. Their pictures are all over the building.


I think I worked hard, too, driving kids around, keeping uniforms white, watching countless rounds of showmanship and heart-stopping Avian Bowl contests. There are no pictures of me here. Nor of any of the adults who worked so hard over the years. A special thank you to all us anonymous adults.


Bob is the kid in the green shirt on this poster. The photo was taken for the 4-H Showmanship Manual when he was 10 years old.

I have a note about “the fun and experience of competition.” Some people say kids shouldn’t compete, especially young kids. I have found that to be completely untrue in the 4-H poultry world. The young kids especially enjoy dressing up and learning about their animals. What better way to learn about winning and losing when it’s not a situation that will affect your life?

When the kids do Avian Bowl and Showmanship, they are totally on their own. All a parent can do is keep their uniform clean and help them study ahead of time. At the fair, Dr. Bradley always made sure parents were welcome in the audience, but we had to be quiet and let the kids do their work. Sixteen years later I can see the good results of all that hard work, often in ways I never imagined.

After we looked around at the fair, Katherine and I went to Leatherby’s. For those from other parts of the world, Leatherby’s is an outstanding ice cream parlor. Even on a Thursday evening it was crowded.


A young server prepares to deliver a huge ice cream sundae to a table. I don’t think this is the biggest one they make, that’s a Pig Trough.

RIP Mike

How do you reheat coffee on the stove? I had to figure that out this a.m. when the microwave croaked.

I'm sure good cooks disdain the microwave. I used to be a good cook and baker. I don't bake anymore, so I barely need an oven. All I need is a place to reheat coffee, boil water for tea or no-sugar Jello, and steam vegetables. I use my oven to store things like frying pans, which I seldom use and probably could toss.

Anyway, Mike croaked. It was at least 20 years old, only the second microwave I've owned. So I'm off after a new one. Any recommendations? The old one was a Kenmore with very simple controls. Simple is good. I don't even know if there are Sears stores left though, I only go there to buy microwaves and vacuum cleaners.

And now I have another problem, what does one do with a dead microwave? I suppose I could put it in the regular oven and THEN put the frying pans inside it.

Pill Pushers

I love an article that takes what I perceive as my own original thoughts and says them better than I do. I haven't had a TV for many years. When I do see one, I'm shocked and dismayed. Not just the programming, but the drug advertisements. And they've taken over magazines as well. I think one of the reasons our health care costs have soared is that we've been turned into perfect consumers by drug manufacturers. Forget the war on illegal drugs, the drug companies have the rest of us either on drugs or wanting them.

This is what I'd write myself if I were more knowledgeable and articulate. I think you have to cut and paste it into your browser, I don't know how to do that link thing. Maybe there's a pill I could take that would help me learn.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/andrew-weil-md/should-you-get-your-drug_b_265740.html

What's Going on Here?

Oh no, is that a dead guy on the lawn? It looks like he was attacked by a cougar. A mini cougar maybe.


Or maybe it’s Bob, with George the jockey cat. Yes, that’s who it is, but what’s going on?


I see. The kid who could never resist a chick is teaching them to play in the grass. George is oblivious, he just likes sleeping on Bob.

Summer days sometimes make you silly in Sloughhouse.

Hittin' The Road

I had a great idea this weekend. I was sitting in my new Ikea chair, noticing how my butt seemed wider. I need some exercise. We gave up the gym membership when I got busy at work and never had time to go. The little stationary bike thing is just no challenge anymore.

I’d like to walk around the fields, but I have to wear these crappy Kaiser shoes and even the new ones are huge and get in the way. Like walking in snowshoes. The physical therapist keeps telling me to walk with my toes straight ahead. I keep trying to explain that makes it hard to stride over the toes of the shoes. I think I could walk around the field just fine in my Arcopedicos, but if I get a blister and it goes bad, I’ll never hear the end of it from Nurse Doomengloom.

I know, why not get my old bike refurbished and just RIDE it around the field?

So that’s what I did. It’s a great bike for these country roads, it has wide tires and a nice wide seat and all ya gotta do is sit on it and push the pedals.

I picked the bike up at the shop this afternoon. All the way home I was planning my ride - not too far for the first time, be sure to take the cell phone and a bottle of water, etc. I put on my favorite bicycling t-shirt from Auntie Mo, and my pants with pockets for the cell phone.

I made it about 5 feet before I hit the road - literally. They say you never forget how to ride a bike. I guess that’s true if everything on your body works the way it’s supposed to. My balance is still iffy, so I took it slow. But my Kaiser shoe caught on the chain guard. I put my other foot down to balance and the toe of the shoe caught in the gravel. I don't move fast enough to undo a bad move. I repeat what I’ve said before: these shoes are going to kill me.

I didn’t fall very hard, more like Artie Johnson used to on Laugh-In. Sort of kerrrrrrrrr-plunk. Smack on my front, mostly on one arm, both knees, and a cheek. I didn’t fall on my iPhone.

I got all dirty and since the driveway is gravel, I’ve been picking tiny little stones out of my hand. Nothing’s broken. Tomorrow a.m. the knees will probably be stiff as a board.

On the good news side, I got up off the ground all by myself.

I don’t recall ever falling off a bike before. It doesn’t hurt. When you have neuropathy, nothing hurts except your pride. I don't have much of that left anyway.

When I get this figured out - and I WILL - I'll let you know and we'll go for a ride.

A Day in the Country

Saturday was NOT a peaceful day in the country. I screamed and tossed the furniture around and seriously considered murder.

It all started well enough in the middle of July. Katherine Bird Nerd had kindly offered to incubate a few eggs for me. The spring bouts with raccoons had left us with only 3 Ancona hens. We had already trimmed the number of bantam and large Dominiques. Without some replacements, we might soon have no chickens.

So I took mostly Ancona eggs, and some bantam Doms, and just for fun a couple of half OE/half bantam Dom eggs and a couple of mutt chicken eggs. The last thing you want is a chick by itself, so it seemed prudent to take a little of everything to ensure getting enough to keep a happy batch.

A week after Katherine put the eggs in her incubator, LBH (Little Black Hen) started to set in the mutt pen. So I took out the mutt eggs and stuck a few Ancona and bantam Dom eggs under her. This was going to be great! The chicks would all hatch fairly close together and LBH could take care of all of them. She’s a great mommy. And I wouldn’t have to brood chicks in the dining room. I don’t mind doing that, but Charley the cat makes it difficult.

In the batch I gave Katherine, 1 Ancona hatched. There were 2 mutts, 2 OE/Dom crosses and a bantam Dom. The bantam Dom, the only one that might have had some value, died fairly quickly. If a bird can die in Katherine’s care, it was truly not meant to live.

LBH hatched out 1 Ancona, 1 mutt, and 1 bantam Dom. I moved them to a safe pen and put the chicks Katherine hatched in with them. LBH had 8 babies to raise, and she was quite happy.

Now, if you have never raised chicks you probably think this is the beginning of one big, happy story. Things are never that easy in chicken land.

When I checked on the little family in the afternoon, one chick was not doing well. Of course it was our favorite, a big fluffy brown baby. It seemed sluggish and unhappy.

Bob wasn’t home, so I inched my way into the basement, grabbed an aquarium and pushed it back up the stairs. It took me a while to wrestle it around to get it ready for the chick.

Why an aquarium? Well, because if I’m going to have chicks in the house I want to seeeee the little cuddly things. And because Charley the cat would rip his way into anything less substantial, like a cardboard box. On top of the aquarium is a hefty, well-ventilated plastic light guard with a heat bulb hanging through it, and several phone books stacked on top so Charley can’t get in.

It’s not good to have a chick by itself, remember, so I went back out and got the two little OE crosses - 3-Spot and 1-Spot. That left LBH with 5 babies and she was still happy. (You saw her photo in this blog a couple of days ago.)

The fluffy brown chick was light and was not eating well. So I went to town and got small mealworms at PetSmart. Have you ever cut up mealworms with a pair of scissors to feed a bird? What an experience that is. The baby ate lots of worm pieces. This is the brown chick eating part of a mealworm. In the background, the two other chicks had great fun grabbing worms and chasing each other around the aquarium.


That night, they all cuddled up and slept. It looked like things were OK.

The next morning, the brown chick was dead. Now I had the other two in the house, needlessly. LBH wouldn’t take them back. Well, OK, it was just two of them, I figured. And OE chicks are easy to handle.

But this morning when I checked outside, another of the mutt chicks didn’t look as peppy as the others. So I brought it inside. This is the mutt baby with the two OE crosses.


I had just taken the brown chick out of the aquarium and had it on my lap, trying to convince it to eat a mealworm, when 2 feet behind me on the table, I heard a commotion in the aquarium.

I had taken the phone books off the cover and Charley pushed it open far enough to reach in and snag 1-Spot. He took off, with the chick screeching and me hobbling after, screaming at the top of my lungs. I tucked the brown chick into my shirt pocket. Charley ran under the couch, I picked up the couch and heaved it halfway across the room. Charley ran somewhere else. I couldn’t find him, furniture was flying everywhere. I couldn’t hear the chick anymore, undoubtedly it was dead, but I had nightmares of it laying injured somewhere until Charley went back to kill it. Mostly I’m a very mellow person, but I had gone off the deep end.

I put the brown chick back in the aquarium and put the cover on it tightly. George had been sleeping in his Windex box all this time. I put him outside to keep him out of the way. Gollie and Velcro disappeared as soon as the ruckus started and neither of them would bother a chick anyway..

For the next 15 minutes, I went through the house moving furniture, screaming at Charley (yeah, I know, he wasn’t going to come while I was doing that, but I wasn’t thinking). Not a trace.

I came back to the dining room, and there he was by the aquarium without the chick. I grabbed him, intent on maybe choking him to death, or beating him to a pulp. That didn't make a pretty picture in my mind, so instead I held onto him by the back of the neck and screamed NO NO NO at him and shook him. Then I found the cat carrier and shoved him into it. He stayed there while I went through the house again, looking for the chick, which I was sure by now was dead or dying.

It was nowhere in the civilized part of the house. Bob’s door was open. I’d not be able to find a flock of full-grown chickens in that mess, let alone a little dead chick. I called Bob and asked him to please come home and help me before I executed his cat.

When Bob drove in, I was sitting in the garden with George in my lap. I had decided I needed a time out. Bob went in the house, probably expecting to find blood and gore, and came right back out with the peeping chick. He’d found it on the dining room floor, less than 6 feet away from the aquarium. It was fine except for a small nick on one wing. He put it back in the aquarium and it recovered right away.

It took me another hour to recover. Bob checked Charley to make sure he was OK. He was. I hadn’t even broken his ear drums with the screaming.

By the end of the hour Charley was in my lap with his head under my chin. He is SUCH a prune. He loves to play and anything with feathers is a first-class toy to him. He’s also sneaky, though. He can open drawers and doors and once he sets his mind to a project, he won’t give up. He knows when he's doing something he's not supposed to, he's just sneakier.

And he’s been a total pain lately. Velcro is still hiding on the back porch because he chases her. Gollie spits and hisses at him all the time, and he’s bitten Georgie on the ear.


That’s not a mortal wound, but as you can see George likes to sit in my new white chair. Then he’ll scratch the ear and little flecks of blood go everywhere.

So in my dining room right now you’ll see an orange cat sleeping on a chair with a really ugly towel thrown over it. On the brand new dining room table is a huge aquarium with 3 happy chicks snuggling together.


It has phone books stacked on top of it and duct tape strapping the cover closed. It looks like I'm trying to keep Killer Chicks from escaping.

Charley is off sleeping somewhere, planning his next assault. Maybe I’ll go back to PetSmart tomorrow and get a harness for him. Perhaps I could tie him to a tree out in the yard for a couple of hours. I wish Trudy the peahen was still here to teach him a lesson about feathers.

Just Passin' Through

Late every summer the migratory birds start to come through this area. The family groups of Canadian Geese have been active in the mornings and at dusk already. Later they’ll bunch in bigger groups and do some serious traveling. Right now they clean up corn in the harvested fields and get so fat they can barely clear the tops of the trees around the yard.

Another yearly visitor showed up a little early this year. I’d like to think it’s the same bird that’s been coming year-after-year since I was young, but that could only be a parrot. No other bird lives that long. This is obviously not Polly Parrot.


This visitor is a Sharp-shinned hawk. My mom used to call it a “sparrow hawk.” It’s one of the smallest raptors, about the size of a magpie. Typically they eat other birds, but will eat a lizard or a mouse if they can find one. They are often seen because they hang around backyard bird feeders and wait to pick off easy prey.

They are very nervy. My mom hated the one that perched in a tree by the back door. When one of us went out the door, the sparrows that had been lying low would make a run for it. The hawk would swoop down right over our heads, grab a shrieking sparrow, and pack it off. Or a more prized songbird, or a robin.

They don’t limit themselves to small birds, they think big. One year when we were gone during the day, the guys at the corn stand said they heard our chickens raising a ruckus and came over to see what was going on. A little hawk had gotten in past the netting over the top of a chicken pen and was running back and forth trying to get out. The guys opened the gate and it ran out, then flew up into a tree. My bird book says these hawks don't even weigh a pound. My hens weigh 5 or 6.

A couple of years ago John saw a small hawk between the cyclone fence and the chicken pen. There’s about 8 inches of space there.

It was running back and forth, ltrying to terrorize the bantams and get them to fly. John tried to shoo it away but it wouldn’t take its eye off the chickens, so he reached down and grabbed it by the wing and tossed it out of the yard.

When Bob remodeled the yard this year, he dragged the battery cage right next to his bedroom window to “store” it. Which means he didn’t feel like dragging it clear to the building where it truly needs to be stored. I have used it for the past couple of weeks as temporary housing for a pair of bantams, the baby pigeons, and an older male Taganrog pigeon that has no mate.

Bob awoke to a clatter at his bedroom window and looked out to see that something outside the cage had the little Taganrog by the tail. It took him a while to get outside, but the Sharp-shinned hawk was still hanging onto the pigeon’s tail and the side of the cage. Bob said he got maybe 5 feet away from it before it finally gave up and flew away.


The little Taganrog is still scared and looking a little raggedy, but he’s uninjured.

I took the hawk’s picture this afternoon. He was hanging around a few feet away from the feeder waiting to catch some dinner.

In past years, these migrating hawks would stay around for a couple of weeks and then move on. On the internet it says that because there are more folks who maintain bird feeders, fewer Sharp-shinned hawks are migrating these days.

I hope this isn’t one of them.

Pigeon Progress

The baby pigeons are doing fine. Here they are last week.

I put them outside in a cage all day and brought them in at night. They were just starting to push the peas around in their little bowl.


And here they are yesterday. I have them entirely outside now. I still tube feed them in the morning and evening, they come running to the door and crawl up my arm to sit on my shoulder. They like the food, but even more they just like the contact with something they see as a “parent.”


On one side of the pigeons are the little pair of lovebird chickens that I showed you a couple of months ago. They’re in a smaller pen for a while because I needed space for the chicks. (more about the chicks another day)

On the other side, for a few hours, there was a fledgling sparrow. It was caught at the corn stand. I put it in the pen just to keep it safe for a while. Sure enough, just about dusk it started calling and soon I could hear the parents above it in a tree. I took it out and put it up on a branch.

Once I had a sparrow fledgling in a small cage on the front porch for a few hours. Its parents found it there and landed on the cage, trying to feed it between the bars. They were baffled, “What did you do to get put in jail, Junior?”

When I opened the door, it fluttered off with them. I don’t know if all bird parents are so persistent, mostly I get babies from other places and their parents aren’t here.

Time Out

I’m tired of you kids running all around this house like a chicken with your head cut off. Roger is taking a time out. I want the rest of you to just calm down and apologize for your bad behavior.

Eek a Snake!

When my brother was here last week, he pulled two big lizards out of a drain pipe. They might have gone in after bugs and couldn’t get out.

Today I found a baby garter snake in my weed bucket. Falling into something is one thing. Climbing into it is something else. How could an 8 inch snake get into this?

I figured it out when I started trying to get him out of there. He’d just coil himself around a weed and hang on. I must have put him in the bucket myself when I was pulling weeds.

Well, OK. Stupid me. Lucky it wasn’t a rattlesnake. Before I put him back in the flower bed I took his picture.


And I’ll have to keep an eye out for more. These things are born by the dozen and Trudy’s not here anymore. They're totally welcome here, but I wish I could put a bell on them or something, the sneaky little rascals.

Anti-Carb Crusade

When I’m on a crusade, I can be insufferable. I know this, so mostly I try to keep my mouth shut. People don’t listen anyway. If they’re like me, they have to learn things for themselves.

One thing I’ve learned a lot about in the past couple of years is how food can screw up your life. Not even “bad” food, or too much of it. Just the wrong food.

For me, and lots of people like me, the wrong food is carbohydrates. I was lucky to read a couple of the right books soon after I was diagnosed with diabetes and discovered that the standard diabetes program is bassackwards. It starts with medication and then you’re given a diet to feed the medication. At the same time they're telling you that diet and exercise can help you, they’re giving you medication and a diet that make it impossible. Insulin is what makes you store fat.

I followed what I read instead and soon needed NO medication. My last A1C was 4.8. Diet CAN reverse your blood sugar problems.

The first book I read was Dr. Bernstein’s Diabetes Solution by Richard K. Bernstein. You can get it on Alibris.com. I like this book because it was written before the currently popular style of taking a 4-paragraph premise and repeating it for 250 pages. Dr. Bernstein's book is crammed with practical information.

There are lots of other books and programs that repeat Dr. Bernstein’s advice. The Atkins diet is a good example.

There are good things and bad things about a low carb diet. The main good thing is that it works. When I was in the hospital they gave me glipizide for blood sugar and tried to give me 2 more medications as well, one for blood pressure and one for cholesterol. “Do I have a problem with those?” I asked. "No," they answered, "but if you’re diabetic you have to take these as well." I didn’t. Call me stupid, call me stubborn, I wanted to know WHY before I took pills. What I read in Dr. Bernstein’s book is that yes, these 3 things can to go together, but if you get your blood sugar under control then the other 2 will follow. And so it was.

The main problem with a low carb diet is that it’s harder to find food that doesn’t require some preparation. This was very evident to me on Friday, when I stopped at a new Walgreen’s to buy toilet paper.

Half the store was “food.” A full half the aisles were devoted to things you eat and a long refrigerated aisle to things you drink. And 98% of it was crap.

Most of it is blatant crap. I mean anyone might guess that chocolate-covered caramel centered doodahs would serve no good purpose, but even the stuff that is pawned off as “healthy” is often just as bad. Here is one thing I found: a drink called Osteo. The front label says it’s good for strong bones and a long life, but the back label shows that it has 32 grams of carb, all of it sugar. You might as well take a calcium pill and drink a regular Coke.


I just read The End of Overeating by David Kessler (on my Kindle). It isn’t a great book, you can glean everything you need to know in the first chapter. But his investigation was about how the way food is “designed” and processed contributes to overeating. The three main things that are added are sugar, fat and salt. Read the labels. Even in the health food aisle most of the products are high in carbs because of sugar. They use fructose or honey but it’s all the same. Health food cereal is the worst, it has the same carbs as the kids’ cereal we make fun of. And just like kids, we get addicted to it.

Kessler’s premise is that food purveyors aren’t out to kill us, they’re just trying to sell us what we want. It’s obvious from my recent jaunt through Walgreen’s that what we want is not good.

Rip Van Winkle

Have I been sleeping under a tree for a while? What happened to the past 10 years?

Brother Jerry and I visited Julie at the ranch yesterday. Her daughter was playing in the yard. Except it wasn't the daughter (my step-niece) I was expecting to see. That one doesn't play in the yard anymore, she's 16 years old and she drives. This one is her younger sister.

That just isn't possible. It can't have been 11 years since I've seen Julie and her daughter. What have I been doing all this time? I vaguely remember a van filled with kids and chickens. Bakersfield, Anderson, the county fair. Good times.

Puppies

It was raining puppies today, and I survived!

At the feed store there were 2 pens of puppies being sold. Right outside the entrance was a pen full of fluffy black and white babies, 3/4 McNab and 1/4 Border Collie. I got to hug them all. There's nothing more wonderful than puppy breath. Local people might appreciate this: this batch of puppies was sired by Snook, Snooky Silva's old Border Collie. Some people might not find that a good sales point, but there it is. These babies were sooooo cuddly. They'd obviously been very well taken care of. I barely managed to resist buying one.

But there was another trap inside the feed store. A pen of Welsh Corgi puppies.

It was so hard. And I had cash in my purse, I could have bought one in a minute. Luckily there were so many I couldn't make up my mind, so I just got the chicken feed and left.

Once in my car, sanity returned. Then I started thinking, my brother needs a puppy and he knew Snooky Silva. Jerry, you would love one of these babies. If you want one I'll go back and get it for you. I'll pay for it and keep it for you for a couple of weeks. But then you gotta take it home.

And finally this morning cousin Nancy sent me the following movie. Maybe it's been on the Internet and you've already seen it, if not I know you'll like it.