The Trekker Ages

Halloween, 1993.


Halloween, 2009.

They get bigger, but they don't grow up.


Thanks to the Cap'n for wardrobe advice.

Party Cats

What’s so special about a fuzzy, iPhone photo of 4 cats on the kitchen floor? It’s All 4 Cats! Together, at the same time! It’s a Feliway miracle.

All you have to do is spend a small fortune on pheromone dispensers and after a couple of weeks the cats can all stand each other for the few minutes it takes them to eat breakfast. I had to take the picture with my iPhone because it would have taken another minute to walk to the drawer and pull out the camera, and by then the opportunity would have passed.

The cats ARE getting along better, but only in the room where the Feliway is. And one of the culprits still finds it necessary to mark its territory in the living room (thankfully on a throw rug I can wash or throw away). Life is not good in catville, but it’s more tolerable now that winter is coming on and they’ll all need to be cuddling around the wood stove together.

In addition to the cat party, there was a guy party here last night. Well, there were some ladies too, but last time I peeked out the back door most of the beer pong participants seemed to be guys.

The tables in the party area are covered with detritus this morning, and my living room floor is covered with people.

But the mess outside is limited to the table tops, the kids can easily clean it when they wake up. And the people on the floor and the couches are bundled in neat little packages. My kitchen is totally clean and tidy. The bathroom, which was very popular last night, is no worse for the wear. One of the revelers has already been up, taken a shower, and gone to work. For the rest I’ve made a pan of cinnamon rolls (the wop kind) and a pot of Cinnabon coffee.

The question I get most often is “how can you sleep with all that noise”? I don’t know, really, but I do, easily. The noise is joyful, for one thing. The kids are all friends, they’re taking care of each other. And as long as they’re in the backyard the raccoons won’t be slinking about trying to grab the chickens. That’s a sound that wakes me up and keeps me up.

It looks to be a fine sunny day, the sun is creeping toward the kitchen window. I’m on my second cup of Earl Grey tea and while I’m typing, I’m planning what I hope to accomplish today. There are still tulip bulbs to plant. We haven’t had frost yet, and may not for a while, so the nasturtiums are still blooming and running wild. I did disconnect the automatic timers for the watering system and stored them away. I put them on the back porch. Now, when I can’t find them in the spring, you guys can remind me where they are.

I’m not going to the horse show in Santa Rosa today. It’s just not the same. Some things you keep doing, even though they change, because the new experiences are opportunities for new fun. I just don’t enjoy horse activities as an observer, though. Poultry shows either, and I’m missing one of those today too.

Life goes on. There are weeds to pull and flowers to plant.

Mom's Cake

We lived in Camino when I went to high school, on 10 acres, I think, that had every fruit, nut, and berry imaginable. There was an especially nice little apple orchard. The house had a canning kitchen in the basement and my mother spent a lot of time poking fruit into jars and making jams and jellies.

This recipe is basically the same as one that was created for Apple Hill. My mom made the applesauce herself so it was really chunky, and added a few things to make this more like a giant fruitcake. She especially liked to use mint-flavored chocolate chips. Not the green ones, the chocolate ones with mint flavoring. She would often make this cake to send to the mountains for the cowboys. I tried feeding it to Bob and John once and they pooped out after a piece or two. It’s a good cake to take someplace where there are a lot of hungry people. It’s yummy when it’s warm, but it gets even better after it sits for a day or two.


If it seems too soft after an hour, leave it in a while longer. Oh and see! You don't need any eggs for this!

Muttley Bunch

The little chicks are teenagers already. There is a pair of Anconas (the big black and white spotted birds), One Spot and Three Spot (the little white pullets in the front), one very small Dominique bantam pullet on the right, and two mutts with feathered feet, the big black one and the spotted one in the back. The spotted one used to be the brown baby that was in with the two whites in the house. I think it’s a cockerel, and it’s still our favorite. It’s easy to catch. It loves to sit in your lap and talks constantly. (You know, buck buck buck?)

There are 3 younger Dom bantams still with their mom in another pen, and two older Dom bantam cockerels. That’s a total of 9 chicks this year. Plenty.

I got plastic on all the pens the day before the nasty rain storm. That was good. Then it was hot and humid for a couple of days. That was not good with the pens all wrapped. But tonight it’s starting to chill. We have a fire in the stove. The cats are happy, everything is snug.

Lovey Doveys

I hear the tubby doves every day, but I don’t always get to see them. This weekend I caught them smooching in the horse pasture. It’s almost dove season, I better start getting the word out again that dove hunting is strictly forbidden on this property.

Meanwhile, are these two also being lovey dovey? Well, no, this was moments before a serious battle for the favorite napping spot, which just happens to be on top of a heating pad. George won.

Poor Bob

Bob has a job, but since not too many people play golf in the wintertime, his hours are cut back to two days a week. This doesn't bother him particularly. He can live on practically nothing, and he has plenty to do with all his free time.

He takes 1 class at Folsom Lake College. An online class, a very simple online class. And he plays World of Warcraft at least 12 hours a day. We cross paths in the hallway; he's going to bed as I get up to go to work. Yes, I find that annoying.

This morning as we passed each other in the hallway, the phone rang. It was a fellow who wanted to hire Bob to help him for the day, could he be ready in 15 minutes? To his credit, the kid never says "no" to work, and he IS a good worker. So he rushed to the bathroom to take a shower.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to be a pain in the neck. "Hey!" I said from outside the bathroom door. "Get out of there! I have to get ready for work."

"I have to go to work, too" he said. "But I do REAL work," I answered, "and I make 4 times more than you do! Get out of there!"

He finished his shower in his own time and let me into the bathroom. By that time I'd thought of at least 3 more annoying things to say. "What, were you staying up all night expecting someone to call you at 2 a.m. about work?" "Maybe you should apply for a night shift job stocking shelves somewhere." And the best...

"Since you'll be working at a hospital, maybe you can find a Priest there with healing powers." Or whatever those stupid WOW characters are.

He won't be doing hospital work, by the way, he's helping set up for a farmer's market. But maybe he will meet a nice young nurse there. That's something we could use in this family. Or maybe a psychologist.

Munched Maze

There's a small problem with the Fabulous Corn Maze.


It got munched by the storm yesterday. Of course, it would be much easier to navigate it right now. I guess the really big, 42-acre corn maze in Fairfield was also flattened by the wind. Oh well, they'll make lots of good silage for the cows to munch.

Chestnuts or Conkers?

A couple of days ago there was a side conversation going on about chestnuts. I had read a blog from England about "conkers" and it reminded me of the chestnuts we kids used to pick up when we waited for the school bus in front of Frances' house. We'd stuff our pockets with them and take them to school to share. The whole class would sit around and pick at them, trying to peel the inner skin off (which I remembered as fuzzy). Soon there was debris all over the floors and desks.

Today after work I pulled into the yard under Frances' old chestnut tree and picked up a few.


There is actually fuzz on the inside of the outer shell. The inner skin is not that fuzzy, but it sticks to the nut. You have to peel it off with your fingernail. You want to remove as much of it as possible because it has an astringent taste and can really make your mouth pucker.


Just like in the old days, I managed to make a mess.


I read that American chestnuts are a different species that the European chestnuts, which are also known as "sweet chestnuts" because they're easier to peel. I know, you can roast these things and they're easier to peel also, but we didn't have that option at school and I learned to prefer the raw ones.

Chestnut blight wiped out the vast forests of trees that used to grow on our eastern coast. Only a few trees survived in the west. I wonder if the one at the old bus stop is that old? I thought about planting one of these nuts today, but I just read that it takes 30 or 40 years for a chestnut tree to produce when grown from seed.

So why are the nuts called conkers in England? I'm betting because the kids used to throw them at each other. We didn't waste good chestnuts using them as ammo. We had plenty of dirt clods for that.

Later........

I looked this up on the internet, and conkers don't appear to be chestnuts at all, they're HORSE chestnuts. Those appear to be more like buckeyes or something. And the game has more to do with stringing them on a cord than with throwing them. Hmmm, this will take some more investigation.

Do You Bake?

I used to bake a lot. Especially cookies. At Christmas, I'd bake for 2 weeks straight after work every night, and all day on the weekends. I liked to give cookies to friends and relatives. And I'd bake some for Bob and his buddy James to sell to Christmas tree customers who drove by our backyard. Their favorite cookies to sell were Choodles. Here is the recipe:


This is as close as you'll get to cookies from me for Christmas anymore. I have too many friends and relatives who just don't need them, and I surely don't need to be baking them. I'm not tempted by much, but cookie dough is one of those things.

Oh, and do any of you relatives have that recipe for green Jello salad that Grandpa Miller used to make? I think it has cottage cheese and pineapple in it. I was trying to find it tonight and I ran across this cookie recipe while I was looking.

It's Magic!

Do you remember this comic book that was around in the 1950s? It was called Mary Jane and Sniffles. I don’t want to hear any remarks about drug references, we didn’t think that way in those days. Anyway, I can’t remember my current iPhone number, but I can easily remember the magic words Mary Jane used to make herself small like her friend Sniffles, the mouse:


At the end of the adventure, Mary Jane would always turn back into her regular size. This morning something happened that reminded me of MJ and Sniffles.

Well, I was gazing out the kitchen window, enjoying the fall morning. It's crisp and the leaves are starting to turn color. I happened to notice Hotei standing there on the window sill, next to Cap’n Picard’s chair. “Too bad he’s made out of wood,” I thought, “he can’t even sit in a chair.”


I rubbed his tummy while I was thinking this. You rub Hotei’s tummy for good luck, you know.

All of a sudden there was a flash of light!


Miracle of miracles! Hotei is now as real as the Cap’n! I don’t know if there’s a chair to fit him, he has a pretty fat butt. Bob says he looks like a professional wrestler. Cap'n is speechless. Everything is a mess here this morning.

Here's Tessa!

Hi there friends and relatives, here is our new girl, Tessa, with her dad Cort and her mom Sarah. They're all home and doing well on Tessa-time.

And here is Tessa with her GRANDPA (call him that at every opportunity), my brother Jerry. I love the scenery outside the window, what a wonderful place to be welcomed into the world.

Art Reception

Photo by Katherine

Well, that was kind of fun! I'd have felt more worthy if I'd consciously created a body of work and was invited to hang it, but I've learned in this life to take what you get and enjoy the fun parts.

And in typical SCOE style, everything was put together first class. If I were the president of the U.S. and had royalty coming to visit, I'd get some of the people at SCOE to plan the event, they are soooo good at it. It's interesting and fun to work with these people. I've learned a lot from them. Not that I'm into coordinating napkins and tablecloths and making fresh fruit punch myself, but I could now if I had to. (Or I'd know who to call to do it, heh heh.)

Thank you to Cindy and Katherine for coming to the event, what a treat to see you both.

On another note, cousin Nancy is having her knee replaced today. My thoughts are with you, Nancy! I hope they have a replacement that will fit those long, long legs of yours.

And yet another note, I had my foot appointment this morning. I didn't wear the FiveFingers shoes because they are wonderfully dirty from walking around the field on the dirt roads, but I took them in a paper bag. I pulled them out to show the footnurse, expecting a lecture about inappropriateness, and much to my surprise she thought they were great! I told her I've been barefoot as much as possible and wear the FiveFingers shoes to go on walks. Cool, she said, where did you get those?

Eyebrows

I don't ever recall having decent eyebrows, but in recent years it's been worse. I look in the mirror and see Andy Rooney.

Women I work with have beautiful eyebrows, sculpted, natural, wonderful eyebrows. I asked them how they do this and was told it's done when they get their hair cut. They get their eyebrows waxed.

I tried that. It hurt. And the hairs that were left just grew very long and stuck out like a few stalks of oats left in the hay field. I pretty much gave up after that and just let the bangs grow. They sort of merged with the eyebrows and no one can tell the difference.

I've been scanning old photos lately, and now it's apparent to me where my eyebrow problem came from.

This is my grandmother.


And this is her grandmother.


I'll just keep the bangs long.

More About Toe Shoes

This link will take you to an article about FiveFingers shoes. Shoes.

I love mine.

Happy Broderick Crawford Day!!

10-4!

I waited a while to post this today, to see if anyone else would remember. Cindy did. Thank you, Cindy.

I know, it's harder to remember when it's not a work day. And so many of you are retired, one day is pretty much the same as the others. But if you have your 2010 calendar already, go right now and mark it there for next year.

Meantime, it's not too late to celebrate this year. Be sure to wish everyone you see the happiest Broderick Crawford Day!

Hey, it's one holiday you don't have to genericize, it's not religious. There are no gifts to buy (unless you know someone who'd like a Zippo commemorative Highway Patrol lighter), you don't have to cook all day or worry about eating too much dessert. Just have a highball and clean your ashtrays (if you have them).

I don't do alcohol, maybe I'll celebrate with a Diet Pepsi.
.............

Bob, who woke up at noon and wandered off to work, oblivious, called me from work and left the simple message "10-4!"

Aunt Sharon, bless her, saved my 10-4 email from last year and sent it back to me! Holy Cow! How did she remember to do that? I'm totally impressed with all of you.

We Have Baby!

My brother Jerry just called. Sarah and Cort up in Corvallis had a baby GIRL this a.m. She was 7 lbs, 11 oz. Jerry didn't know how long (why would you need to know that, he asked). He claims her name will be Jeraldine (Jerry) Charles. Hmmm. That's not official, of course, we'll wait for the announcement cards to see what her real name is.

Mom and baby are doing fine, Jerry and Maureen managed to make it all the way to Corvallis to be there. It was their second trip. I know the aunties have been busy with baby blankets, that's one thing the family excels at.

I'm going to follow a different example, though. When Bob was born many years ago, his aunt Tina would send a savings bond on his birthday and one at Christmas. We put them away and didn't think too much about it. Then Bob won a big wad of savings bonds when he was in 4-H and we stuffed those away, too. The bonds have matured just about the time he really needed them for education (which he paid for himself), his first car (which he paid for himself) and other things. It was such a great idea, I'm going to do it, too. Thank you Aunt Tina!

By the way, Aunt Patty, I'd like to do this for Alexis too. Do you have the info I need?

This baby is the first of a new generation on my dad's side of the family, where kids have been few and far between. How exciting!

Oct. 4 - Baby's name is Tessa Claire.

Huh? What?

I was just perusing a junk email from Dunhill Vacations. They're having a contest for a 5-Day Vacation to London at Christmas. I was thinking that sounds like fun, I wonder what the rules are and how much more junk mail you'd be signing up for if you entered.

Then I read this paragraph. I swear, this is authentic, I just took a screen shot of it.


What in the heck? Does anyone know if there's a rule in Canada about passing a math question for some reason? And why a math question? I know lots of very intelligent people (myself included) who might not be able to answer a math question.

Do you suppose you'd have to pass the math question to win a free Big Mac? A free video rental?

Just when you think you've heard everything, something like this pops up.

Art Show, Sorta

An artist works hard, creates a body of work, and then hopes to have a show. In the real world.

Where I work they sent an email, "Anybody have any art we can display?" So I asked one of my coworkers if I could borrow a painting back that I did several years ago, and I sent along my very favorite gourd, too. Next thing I know we're having an art show. I found a couple more things at home and had my new sunflower framed.

If you're in the area, stop by and we can all pretend like we're high class artists and appreciators of fine art. Or maybe I'll just watch you eat cookies.