Goodbye 2010

A few years ago I didn't think I'd live this long, let alone have so much fun doing it. I still hobble, but I've mastered that so I appear to be simply clumsy, not crimpled. I get around well enough, some people with two good legs didn't get to do as much as I did last year. I'd like to thank my own personal Jesus, who looks like Fonzie, by the way, and isn't a representative of any formal religion. For those of you who are members of formal religions, don't get your panties in a wad about this, just keep doing whatever makes you happy and so will I.

I'd also like to thank my ancestors on both sides: hard-headed Polish and Dutch (the Blawats and the Millers). Sometimes being a rockhead has its advantages. There's some English thrown in there too, back to the original 13 colonies. Having read a number of English blogs this past year, I think that tempers my personality somewhat. It makes me a rockhead with an acid sense of humor. Thank you to my Belcher ancestors. Tell me having a name like that doesn't require a sense of humor. Erp.

I'd like to thank friends I reconnected with this year. Merlene took me on a fast trip through Texas, driving like a pro. I hope I was able to repay her on our trip to Olympia later in the year. Thank you to Katherine for prying herself loose from Wilton and giving us a reason to travel across the U.S. It looks like we started something - keep on truckin'.

Thanks to Jim and Carolyn for the trip down memory lane to the horse show, and to Carlotta, who is always a trip. I enjoyed meeting your kids, I hope to see more of you this coming year, and anyone else we can think to torment.

Thank you to my brother Jerry for being a good buddy. I'm sorry I ruined your life by sending you the Caro book about LBJ and the complete collection of FarScape DVDs. Hopefully when you're finished with them Mo will still be living with you. Or maybe she's happy you have some projects to keep you busy.

Thank you to Sarah, Libby, Dominic, and Joe for adding a new generation to the families. It's not easy, but you are all doing such a great job. Keep it up. And send pictures. Thank you to the aunties and uncles who taught these kids to be such good parents.

Thank you to my coworkers. We've had a real roller coaster ride for the past 3 years, but have managed to stay friends who care about and help each other. That's priceless.

I'm thinking today about Blanche, Loretta, Kathy and Aunt Barbara, who have been ill. I wish them love and peace. I'm thinking about Amber, whose first baby is due in 2011 and will soon have no peace for a while. Lots of love, though.

My goals for 2011 are:

Get the trees trimmed, hopefully before spring when the birds start building nests and I won't let anyone touch them.

Get the back porch finished. It's the last room in the house that's still a mess. Well, except for Bob's room, but that's a different problem.

Raise a few good chickens for someone (not me) to show.

Do some watercolor painting and some gourd painting.

Take some weekend trips to visit friends and do fun stuff.

Retire before I'm laid off, or at least shortly thereafter.

An Award!

Wow, I never won an award before. This one is the Yorkshire Pudding award for "Best Blogger in Sloughhouse, California." I am soooo honored.

Fun Times

We had a great time over the holidays in this house. Everyone except Charley, that is. He'd just settled down in Bob's lap with his favorite new toy, fresh from the Kitty Stocking, when George jumped up and horned in. Those ARE the green eyes of jealousy that you see.

Bob and I hosted part of the family on Christmas Eve. It was great to have people here to share our unusually clean house and eat dinner from the plates we only use once every two or three years. Aunt Sharon and her kids and grandkids (my cousins and their children) were here.

This is Aunt Sharon. She was so lovely I had to take her picture.

If you have read my blog for a while, you'll know that Bob went to India and Thailand a couple of years ago with Aunt Sharon, my cousin Callie, and Callie's husband Krishna.

This is the newest member of Aunt Sharon's branch of the family - Libby and Paul's daughter Lexi.

There aren't many people who can resist kissing baby cheeks like these. The smile is courtesy of Lexi's big brother Levi, he has her trained to smile and laugh, it's obvious she adores him.

This is Levi and my cousin Kreg (Levi's uncle).

Yes, the picture on the wall is crooked. I'll go fix that in a minute.

And this is cousin Callie, Lexi, and Lexi's mom, my cousin Libby.

My carpet was so clean, a baby could play on it. And did.

On Saturday morning I headed to town (Sacramento) to visit with John's side of the family. I didn't get to see the newest baby in the family (Joe and Anne's), but Dominic and Kristina and their two kids were there. This is little Nico impersonating the baby Jesus, minus the hay and sheep, but no crying he made.

Nico's big sister Lexi (remember, we have 2 Lexis) posed with her new sock monkey on her grandpa's lap.

Next I got to go to Placerville to spend Christmas evening with Carlotta and her family. Carlotta and I were friends from the time I was in high school. She's a bit younger, so we didn't go to school together, but we showed horses and had some great times.

If you have a big event you want to pull off with style and panache - say the Queen of England is coming to your house for dinner - you would hire Carlotta to manage it for you. I'm sure the people who shared Christmas dinner with Martha Stewart weren't as well treated as we were at Carlotta's house.

Here, she explains the complicated rules of the gift exchange - Sicilian-style, with hands. One of the wonderful things I got to do at Carlotta's was meet her son, Spencer. He's a skier and a filmmaker. I was privileged to get a copy of his DVD as a gift. I watched it as soon as I got home. I don't know anything about skiing or snowboarding, but even I could appreciate the skill of Spencer's camera work, and how much work it must have taken to set up the stunts. I'm really glad my own kid can't do all those tricky things on skis, like taking off from a cliff and doing a somersault between two trees before hitting the snow half a mile down the hill. Ack!!

I got to tell Spencer that his mother didn't get into trouble when she was a kid. She CAUSED trouble, however.

Another wonderful thing at Carlotta's was getting to see her ex-husband, Johnny Hyde. If you grew up in Sacramento in the 60s, you knew about KROY radio and Johnny, he's a legend.

He's also a warm, friendly, totally cuddly fellow. I was so happy to see him and meet his wife Maxine, who is a Raider fan.

Carlotta and I decided we're going to make an effort to visit our old friends this year. We're making our list. You guys know who you are, look for us! This will be so fun, I can't wait for next year to come.

For those of you who have read the news about floods in California, that's only been in Southern California. It could just as easily happen here, but so far it hasn't this year and we're OK. Thank you for your concern.

Christmassing

I got most of the Douglas Fir needles off the carpet by hand. Probably should have had Christmas music playing in the background to make it more festive. On Tuesday the sainted cleaning ladies finished the job. We got a lot of use out of the tree before it expired.

I like having green things in the house, especially in the winter, don't you?

Bob had a rather large Christmas party earlier in the week. Bob, Gwynessa, Jon, Courtney. They were the first ones here. Take a look at the tree, it didn't last much longer.

Jon wanted me to point out that Gwynessa forced him to wear the hat. It had blinking lights.

I read an article this morning about how to destress your animals if you planned to have Christmas activities at your house. That's not necessary in this house. Gollie is always stressed. She hides when she hears the first strange car in the driveway. Velcro sleeps on her heated pad, right in the middle of any group. George and Charley are party guys. The more laps available, the better.

In the picture below Charley says, "Where did these animals come from?"

They're party animals.

I had a fun Christmas season at work, too. From the first day in December I wore something seasonal every day. You know, red, green, red and white. It's not hard to do, especially if you were a 4-H leader and still have those green clothes.

But I work with professional people. In the winter they wear black. Every day they wear black. I went around periodically and inspected their holiday wear. "This is the birthday," I'd remind them. "The funeral is at Easter. You don't wear black to a birthday." I was dubbed "The Christmas Nazi," a title I'm proud to have. Here I am with Sharon on a day when she spruced up her professional black.

There were some other high points – conservative Tami had festive sparkles woven into her hair! Mark had a lovely collection of holiday bowties. One that he inherited from his grandfather had bells on it, that's my favorite. Nathan made us all snowflakes and brought them in to put on our doors. Some people brought in Christmas treats, and we had lots of poinsettias. There is an austere atmosphere in the edbiz these days. We didn't exchange gifts, we didn't party. We did have a nice potluck lunch.

Bob and I have some family events tomorrow and on Christmas day. I'll be thinking of you all and hoping you're sharing good times with your friends and families.

To Uncle B, thank you so much for the three hugs from across the ocean. That's my favorite kind of gift, something that won't take up storage space in my house, but I can use it any time I want a nice memory. I send three big, warm California hugs back to you.

John G, I send warm thoughts your way to melt some of that snow and ice. There's nothing worse than trying to take care of animals in freezing weather. Unless it's having a bulldog in heat. (You always make me feel so good about my own animals in comparison.)

Last night Hulu had Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy episodes available. I watched a couple, they're always fun. Something about Arthur Dent reminds me of my buddy Yorkshire Pudding. Maybe it was the scene where he was writhing in pain, having been forced to hear bad Vogon poetry. YP, when you go to Thailand be sure to take your towel.

Merleen, I used the wonder gloves yesterday to clean chicken pens with my bare hands. They are wonderful, thank you for that early, early Christmas present.

XOX
Jan

Only in California

Less than 12 hours after the winter equinox, and in a sunny but brief break between storms, there were guys out spraying Round-Up this morning to stay ahead of the weeds.

Raccoon Assassin

Aeryn Sun is on the job here in the house, keeping Chicken safe from raccoons. Now if I could just find a Peacekeeper to handle the job outside! I haven't had a problem for a while, but it's about that time when the nasty little critters come poking around the hen houses.

5 Mile Creek

This is a random, disjointed post, it's been that sort of day.

To whom did I loan my DVDs of 5 Mile Creek?

I have seen all the FarScape DVDs twice now (all 4 years of programs) and thought I'd switch over from the Australian sci fi to an Australian western. But the danged DVDs aren't where I thought I'd put them. I assumed John had them, but he stopped by tonight and denied it. Well, sorta denied it. He doesn't remember things like that much better than I do. He can tell you all about parts to a 65 Ford truck, or the names of his first boss's kids, but not whether he borrowed something last week. If you have the DVDs, please let me know so I can stop looking for them.

The creek is back in its banks. The river never got high enough to get out of its banks from this round of storms. We're waiting for the next storm to blow through, but everything is hunky dory tonight.

Except I can't find 5 Mile Creek. Oh, and except that I had to take down the Christmas tree. It had dried out and was dropping needles already. Lots of needles. We got 20 days enjoyment out of it and now I won't have that chore after Christmas. I planned to use the shop vacuum to clean up after the tree, but couldn't find it, either. Bob located it under the overhang on the carport. It was full of water. He said, "You could probably just let it dry out and it'll be fine." OK, but I can't live with 2 inches of pine needles on the carpet for a couple of weeks.

So I had to sweep the carpet with a broom. Wasn't that just a fun thing to do? No. I'm not amused by housework. I'd rather be cleaning chicken pens, or even horse stalls. And if I have to deal with dirt, I'd rather it be out in the garden.

To Kath in England, I ordered an Amelanchier a couple of weeks ago. I just got 3 bareroot saplings this afternoon (Merry Christmas to me!!). They came from a nursery in Tennessee, and they probably had to be chiseled out of the ground. I requested they be sent early. Usually the eastern nurseries send bareroot saplings in late April, and that doesn't work for California. We're often cutting hay in early May, it's dry and hot here by then.

I'm going to have a nice cup of tea now and hope tomorrow makes more sense.

Just Ran Out and Checked

I just ran out and checked the water level. Well, no I didn't run, I can't run. I waddled out in a drizzle and came back like a soggy pooch. But this is what the river looks like at 11:30 in Sloughhouse.

The river is on the right. It has probably 5 more feet until it's out of its bank and onto the floodplain. That's when we really start watching it because the levee on the left is narrow and ancient. It has squirrel holes and old roots left from Caltrans cutting trees on it about 10 years (let me take a moment to convey my love for the two-bit idiots at Caltrans). It can probably withstand the water coming up and going down within a 24 hour period, which is what usually happens here. It's not like the levees near Sacramento, where the water level can be higher than the outside ground level for days at a time.

Flooding in Sloughhouse

Do NOT be concerned about news reports of flooding in Sloughhouse. Yet.

As many of you know, Deer Creek floods easily. Every time it comes up there is a lot of water around the Sloughhouse Inn and since there is easy access there for the media, they feature it a lot. Water surrounding the Sloughhouse Inn means absolutely nothing, there is no danger to anyone, there is no damage incurred. The water comes up, then the water goes down.

Deer Creek originates in lower El Dorado County. Even a modest amount of rainfall, over a period of a few days, will cause it to overflow its banks. In a normal year this might happen two or three times.

The real problem in Sloughhouse is the Cosumnes River. It will handle a lot of rain from the foothills. We only get in trouble with the river when there's a warm, heavy rainstorm at high elevations (Pineapple Express). Then the snow melts fast and, combined with rain runoff, it can get pretty scary down here.

So far that hasn't happened in this series of storms, though they are expecting some warm storms in the week to come. So we're keeping an eye on things. Thank you to all our friends who help us do this, and the ones who have volunteered to help move animals and things out if necessary.

If you'd like to know how high the water is, this is a good website: Flooding.

Scroll down to Cosumnes River/North Delta.

Deer Creek at Scott Rd. crossing and Cosumnes River at Michigan Bar are uphill from us. On our 80 acres here in the Cosumnes River Valley, Deer Creek is our north boundary and the river is our south boundary. The creek is at the far end of our property, and at just enough lower elevation that it would take a monstrous amount of water to be a problem. We've had the creek levee wash out a few times, and the highway has had to be closed for a day, but it is not a danger to anyone, as I said before.

The river levee is about 150 yards from my house. When the water is at the top of the levee, it is about the same level as my roofline. I hate that, it really makes knots in my stomach. Right now there's a knot starting to grow that probably won't leave until March, even though this house is over 100 years old and has never to my knowledge been flooded (knock on wood, thank you God).

So today everything is fine. You can watch the news about Deer Creek and chuckle, knowing it's just the news people looking for a good picture on a slow news day. I'll keep you all informed if the situation changes. We'll have a river watch. That's when we sit around the kitchen with a pot of coffee and go out to check the levees every hour or so.

Farriers and Philosophers

If you have horses, you already know that horseshoers are interesting people.

I have met a couple who were dumber than nails. One pulled into my driveway 2 hours late and asked if I had a radiator cap that might fit his limping vehicle. I did (how sick is that?). He spent most of the next hour using my tools to fix the truck.

Another had just driven away after shoeing my horse. As I led her off the crossties, one of the new shoes fell off. I had to put it back on myself.

In my best days, I could shoe my own horse. Not very well, but I could do it. I had to. My horse might pull a shoe 29 miles from nowhere, so I always carried spares. I hit my fingers a lot with the hammer, and was always getting my jeans ripped on nails before I'd get them clinched.

So I count among the happiest days of my life the ones when I met a good farrier: one that not only showed up on time, but did a good job.

This is Ron. I've known him since 1984, I think.

In real life he has a world-class smile and a great sense of humor. He's the best all-round horseshoer, metal artist, story-teller, philosopher, and fun fellow I know. And this is not an advertisement. I don't think Ron needs new customers, and he only keeps customers he likes.

I got to see Ron a couple of weeks ago at Katherine's and got a Christmas hug. These pictures are for  the old friends I used to trail ride with, who always ask, "Have you seen Ron lately?"

Yes, I have, and he's still a prince.

Katherine Smiles

Many of us have known Katherine the Artist since she was a little kid. To many, she seems very serious and somber. That's because you haven't seen what makes Katherine smile.

A Best of Show at a poultry show would probably put a grin on her face. Selling artwork for big bucks would do it, too. But what really makes her smile? Cowboys!

The more, the better.

Last night we went to see the Bar J Wranglers in Oroville, which is about 90 minutes north of home. Katherine had seen them this past summer in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. They sing cowboy songs and spiritual songs, and threw in some Christmas songs, too. And they are very, very funny without being risqué.

The group was evidently started 57 years ago by Babe Humphrey. This is Katherine getting Babe's autograph on the CD she bought.

Babe is in the Western Music Hall of Fame. Two of his sons are in the group now. Their music reminds me of Sons of the San Joaquin, which is also a "family" group. Why is it that family members can sing such lovely harmony?

My favorite band member is Donnie Cook. He sat at the edge of the stage, surrounded by a big assortment of instruments, and he could play all of them very well.

Plus he's an old guy. As you know, I adore old guys.

In your own real life, do you know guys who sing? I don't, and I even know several who went to the Waldorf School, where everyone is encouraged to sing. I also know a bunch of real cowboys, and some cowboy wannabees, and none of them sing. Maybe these family, cowboy-type guys learned to sing in church.

I asked Bob this morning why guys don't sing. He said, "You have bad information. I, for example, was just singing yesterday at work." He said this as he was walking out the door to another day at work, singing in a nice baritone, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen...."

To Put You in the Holiday Mood

Settling down for a long winter's nap,

with visions of sugarplums dancing in his head.

Occasionally Smart

Sometimes I even surprise myself.

I got the tree and the house decorated for Christmas. That left me with my second-to-least favorite job – storing all stuff in the hall closet that I had to move so there would be room in the house for the Christmas things. This is a small house, you know?

I hate the hall closet. I've said this before. Everything is neatly stacked, but it's no-man's land in there. No matter how carefully I label a box and try to remember which stack it's in, when it goes into the hall closet it disappears. Sometimes for years.

Plus, all that stuff has to be taken back out at the end of December so the Christmas decorations can be stored for another year. That's my first-least favorite job – trying to stuff the Christmas decorations back where they came from.

I put it off for a week, but then as I was sitting with my 3rd cup of tea (because I'd rather drink tea and think about the chore than actually DO it) I got this mind-boggling idea! We aren't buying presents this year. The tree looked weird with nothing under it. I was going to just wrap some empty boxes and put them under the tree. Instead, I filled the boxes with the things I intended to store temporarily in the hall closet. I'm wrapping and labeling them and putting them under the tree.

When it comes time to put the decorations away, there will be nothing in the way, they can go right back in the spaces they just vacated.

A third thing I don't like about decorating is that I usually have to do it all myself. When I was sick, Bob did it. Otherwise the guys in the house have been pretty much useless on decorating day. Like Charley and George in this picture, their attitude was "wake me when it's over."

Velcro has seen 12 Christmases. Her favorite spot is under the tree, waiting for Santa.

Where the Wild Things Were

At my brother's house, on Thanksgiving.

Jen, Tessa, Sarah

Baby Fun

The Blawat side of my family is pretty small. We do a good job of practicing Zero Population Growth. Uncle Jim and Aunt Beth were the only grandparents for quite a while, and they've gotten a lot of mileage out of their granddaughters Emily and Jennifer.

Em, Jen, and Sarah have all been married for a few years. They have good jobs, good spouses, and have even bought houses. (Bob is the youngest of the group, he's just starting out.) 

It's always fun to see my Blawat cousins. This year was extra special because we all got to meet our newest member, my brother's granddaughter Tessa. She's 14 months old. She speaks a few words and knows some sign language. Of course she's very talented already. She can play lots of songs on her little electronic keyboard.  

She not only plays songs with her fingers, she plays them with her toes as well. How cool is that?

Tessa is learning to walk, but she much prefers hanging onto dad or mom's fingers and running. I'd estimate the 3 of them did at least 2 miles a day like this, plus Tessa went up and down the stairs 2 or 3 times an hour. 

She was very polite and patient as she sat and listened to Grandma Mo read a book. Check out the title - Let's Get Moving! - it must be her favorite book.

Tessa is already a very helpful young lady. Anyone need their glasses cleaned?

Working on Holiday Blog

I have photos and stories from Thanksgiving to share, but by the time I get home in the evening all there's time for is building a fire, feeding the animals, and cleaning up. I really, really do NOT like winter. It's not that cold in Sloughhouse, the dark is the worst part. I stumble around enough in full daylight, dark is more than I can handle.

Bob is working full time now, so he's not home during the day to keep the fire going or handle some of the chores. I had asked to work 6.5 hour days when I requested a 180-day schedule, but nooooo. So some afternoons I need to just walk out of here an hour or so early and let the time accumulate to a full day of sick leave. I don't like that, either. It's hard to convince city folks that when you leave in the country and have a bunch of animals, you can't work from dark to dark every day.

I do have Wednesdays off. Everything I need to accomplish in my life now gets done on Wednesdays. Correction: it NEEDS to get done on Wednesdays. That doesn't always happen.

We've had a couple of hard frosts and all the flowers that I couldn't bring myself to pull out while they were still blooming have turned to mush. Nasturtium mush, Impatiens mush, Petunia mush. So now I can get out there and do the heavy-duty gardening I've been putting off.

We will have a Christmas tree this year. My "niece" Jen came out Sunday to cut her tree and we cut one for me, too. I only fell in the mud once. Bob and I both have Wednesday off, so putting up the tree is one more task for that day.

Stay tuned for Thanksgiving pix.

Thanksgiving Geese

In its earlier days, California was for the birds.

With snowmelt from the Sierras, the Central Valley was a wetland haven for millions of birds that use the Pacific Flyway as a migration route. But by 1994, over 94% of that habitat had been lost to farming. In the upper valley the clay soils of the Sacramento River floodplain created perfect conditions for growing rice. 

In 1900 there were an estimated 50 million ducks, geese, swans and shorebirds that wintered in the upper Sacramento Valley. By 1990 that had declined to barely 4 million.

For years it was the practice to burn rice straw after the crop had been harvested. Rice straw decomposes slowly. From 1983 to 1992, 82% of rice straw was burned. This created a smoky mess in the valley that lasted sometimes for weeks. The valley is surrouded on 3 sides by mountains. In 1991 a state air-quality law was passed that required farmers to find some other way to deal with rice straw by the year 2000. The official farm response was one of doom and gloom. Farmers are successful only if they can control their production costs.

But some farmers were experimenting. The Lundberg Family Farms reflooded their fields instead, using a roller to mash the straw into the mud, where it would decompose quickly. A byproduct of this was artificial wetlands for birds on the flyway.

In 1994 Eldon Lundberg said “These fields are mostly organic, and we’re real happy with our yields. There are ducks and geese here all winter, which is fine with us because they mix the straw up and add a little fertilizer. The only drawback is that some of the local duck-hunting clubs got pretty mad at us last year because we were getting all the ducks. They really seem to like those basmati rice fields."

The Lundbergs and other concerned farmers of the California Rice Industry Association became part of the Ricelands Habitat Partnership, which also includes conservationists from the California Waterfowl Association, Ducks Unlimited, and the Nature Conservancy.

Today when you traverse the upper valley in the fall, as I did for Thanksgiving in Chico, you see miles and miles of rice fields in the various stages of flooding. And this is a common scene.

This was not an easy year for the rice growers. They traditionally plant wet seed (by plane) in March, but late rains kept them out of the fields until almost May. The crop has to be harvested before October, when rains start again. This year the growing season was short, rice was harvested at a higher moisture level than the farmers prefer (20-22%) and that required some mechanical drying after it was harvested. But the yield, I read in a farm magazine, was still good at 8000 lbs per acre. Last year one farmer harvested 9,000 lbs per acre. His record is 10,000. Arkansas produces more rice than California, but California rice has a higher yield than anywhere else in the world. This is not genetically modified rice. In fact, because a large percentage of their crop is sold overseas, in 2007 the rice growers passed a resolution to prohibit even test fields of genetically modified rice in their area. 

In some counties these days, less than 10% of rice straw is burned. Some is still burned to deal with insect infestations, but the stack of regulations farmers must deal with to burn straw probably creates more pollution than the burning itself.

Rice was originally planted in the north valley to feed Chinese immigrants. Now there are many varieties of rice grown for a wide variety of immigrants, as well as rice products that are produced for consumers all over the world.

And the birds are thriving. People in the cities don't have rice burn to complain about anymore. Now the weenies are complaining about geese on their golf courses - oh my! geese are soooo dirty! And they imagine terrible diseases must be transferred in goose poop. 

Would the world be worse off 

if there were more geese and fewer people?

Spend Spend Spend

Just as soon as you cram that turkey and taters down, right after your second piece of punkin' pie, get out there and start shopping!

They're not even subtle about it anymore, are they? And they've infiltrated the internet. There were 34 unwanted emails on my computer this a.m. Some from stores I've never set foot in, and don't intend to.

I have a stack of catalogs that have been coming in the mail for the past month. It's already a foot high. One clothes company sends me a new catalog (it has a new cover) once a week.

If our economy really needs us to spend money on junk, the government should be more specific. Why leave it to chance? Send me a letter in early November, like a tax bill, that says: this year you are being asked to spend $135 on decorations, $50 on eggnog, etc. I'd like the option to make a contribution and get no doodahs in return.

I may not buy anything this Christmas. No one I know needs anything that I could afford, and I don't want them to think they need to reciprocate. The little kids in the family are still babies; the stage where they appreciate the boxes as much as the toys that come in them. And some of their parents have wisely requested that we don't add to the pile of stuff that will end up in a landfill. I will probably make a donation to Heifer Project. We adopt a family through work. Sometimes there are other charities that need help.

Has Christmas lost its meaning? Nope. It's still a great time to decorate the house and see people. Bob and I have decided to do that this year, as early as we can. I might even bake cookies for the first time in years and we'll have scented candles and Christmas carols playing in the background.

So stop by if you're in the area, or if you're headed home from a shopping trip. Tell me what you bought and about how terrible the crowds were in the stores. I'll give you a cookie, or some peanut butter and celery if you're diabetic. The house will be warm and cozy. I'll have a hug or two for you.

That will be my Christmas season experience.

Yes, I understand the religious significance of the day. If you prefer, I'll say this is how I'll be celebrating the Winter Solstice.

Chilly Wednesday

It's 39 degrees (F) outside at 10 a.m. I have a fire roaring in the stove, two cats cuddled in front of the electric heater, one still in bed on top of a sleeping Bob, and one here in my lap as I have my second cup of Folgers Chocolate Silk coffee.

The sun is shining, it's a cool, crisp day, just what you'd expect this time of year. I'm going outside after a bit to feed the horses and the goat. They're more patient now that new grass is coming up in the pasture - they have something to keep their minds off hay.

I've read my usual blogs this morning already. Uncle B reminded me of Simon and Garfunkel. I had "Feelin' Groovy" floating around in my mind, so I played it on iTunes as loud as my little computer speakers would go and sang along. Charley hates my "singing," I'm sure he thinks it's "CATerwauling." When I attempt to hit the high notes, he slaps my face. By the time I got to the end of the song, I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face.

Oops. I think I woke Bob up.

The Down Side of House Cleaners

I realize what a dumb thing this is to complain about. Who wouldn't simply appreciate it when someone else cleans their house? I mean, even if you're paying them to do it, it's such a nice thing. I love (mostly) coming home on the Tuesdays that my house has been cleaned, it's like the house is holding the front door open for me with a big smile on its face.

So these comments are to provide balance for those of you who are considering whether or not to pay someone to clean your house.

I came home to a sparkling house this afternoon. The carpet was as clean as it will get, considering there are 4 cats here, and everything smelled so fresh and clean. Well, almost. Gollie had left a present on one of the couches and covered it with a couch pillow. She gets freaked out when there are strangers in the house. Strangers with vacuum cleaners especially send her off the feline deep end.

I cleaned the pillow and thrww it into the washing machine with a bajillion chemicals to thoroughly remove the odor. I cleaned the couch, then I sprayed it with more expensive chemicals. Won't be sitting there in front of the fire tonight, reading my book.

Gollie spends most of her time in my bedroom. I have a cat box for her there. She won't use it, she never fouls anything in that room. But Charley uses it. He does this on cleaning days because he's afraid of the vacuum cleaners. I cleaned the box and sprayed it very well.

Velcro had thrown up under a chair in the den. She doesn't like the cleaning ladies and their noisy machines, either. You can tell she's upset if she gives up even a molecule of food.

After an hour of searching and spraying I had run out of nice book-reading corners. So I gave up and went to my computer instead.

The cleaning ladies had unplugged everything to clean underneath the computer and its components. I don't know about your computer, but there are 50 miles of various cords attached to mine. It took me 30 minutes to get everything back in place, but the monitor still did not work. Sigh. Another 20 minutes to troubleshoot that.

I think the basic idea here is that if you don't want to deal with problems, you do the work yourself. I understand that. I don't want to deal with the work, either, though. I just want my house to be relatively clean and my animals to be mellow and well-adjusted.

Maybe I should put that on my Christmas list.

John G, this is another reason why your blog makes me smile on the days you're trying to clean house around the doggies.

Sabotage

There are all sorts of insidious ways that foreign countries are sabotaging our country, our workplaces, our homes. Coffeemakers are one.

Most of the coffeemakers in the U.S. are probably made in Asian countries. For the models they ship to the U.S., there are carafes that are impossible to pour without having coffee dribble all over your kitchen counter. Manufacturers in Asian countries probably get a good chuckle over this as they're drinking their carefully-prepared cups of tea.

We got new coffeemakers at work a while back. They are made by Bunn. Bunn claims to have its corporate headquarters in Illinois, but I'm sure that office is a sham. They are really made in Germany, and the Germans are getting back at us for being on the "wrong" side in their last war.

You not only cannot pour from this carafe without spilling liquid everywhere, the coffee-making process is so complex and counter intuitive there is only one person in our office who can reliably accomplish the task. There are many people in our office who have advanced degrees, but they can't make coffee in these things.

There are at least 5 different ways to fail, each of them resulting in a disappointing mess.

Well, the rest of you in this world need to know that we in the U.S. are mad as hell and we aren't going to take it anymore. It's bad enough we have to get x-rayed and harassed and felt-up every time we need to fly somewhere just because of a few rabid foreigners and their threat to airline safety. Someone, somewhere, is probably getting a good laugh out of that, too.

We're going to counter the coffeemaker threat with Starbucks. No more making our own coffee and spilling it all over, we are going to put not one, but TWO Starbucks on every block. And we will do this in cities around the world!!! The companies that make these subversive home appliances will be out of business. Their chuckling foreign employees will be begging for alms outside their local Starbucks door.

So there!

Christmas List

The subject of nightgowns prompts me to ask, do any of us ever really get what we want or need for Christmas?

When I ask people what they want for Christmas, usually it's a big-ticket item that they know quite well no one is going to buy for them. I mean, really, a pair of $500 diamond earrings? No way. Being more realistic, what would you like for Christmas? Please use my blog space for your Christmas list. Would you prefer gift cards? What kind? If you feel so inclined, tell us what you do NOT want as well.

I'll start with my Christmas list:

Jan James wants:
___ Bob to keep his dirty laundry washed and put away.
___ Gollum (the cat) to stop pooping in the living room.
___ A clean garage.

OK, I know, those are as unrealistic as big-ticket items. This is my "for reals" list:
___ A box of your old magazines. I hate to buy them, but I love to read them then pass them on.
___ Chicken feed or cat food. Any kind, it will all get used. Don't wrap it.
___ Green Acres gift cards.
___ Anything handmade. Doilies, a couch pillow, a dish towel, a potholder, art, slippers. If you made it, I will treasure it.
___ Photos. Printed photos of the family, jpgs I can use for a screensaver, snapshots for my kitchen door.
___ Bath soap. Plain, fancy, whatever.

What I do not need:
___ Books. I've probably already read it, or it's on my Kindle already, waiting to be read.
___ Perfume. I love it, but you can't wear it in public anymore or everyone who prides himself on his allergies will bitch about it.
___ Big stuff. Don't have room for anything that takes up a lot of space.

What's on YOUR list?

Long Nightgowns

Ladies, do any of you wear long nightgowns to bed?

I just got a shopping alert - I get 6 of these a day for various things, now that the "shopping season" is upon us - about nightwear on sale. Half of the nightwear consists of long nightgowns. A lot of it right now is sexy stuff. This is on a site that sells clothes for larger women. I can't imagine any of our bodies stuffed inside that sexy stuff, and it looks really uncomfortable anyway.

But my question is, does anyone really wear long nightgowns? Some of it is beautiful, but I have never been able to manage it. Long nightgowns get all wadded up and wrapped around my legs. When I turn over I get choked. If you have flannel sheets and a flannel nightgown, everything really gets wadded up because the two fabrics work like velcro. Add a cat or two sleeping on top of you and it's even more difficult to turn over.

A long gown takes up too much space in the one drawer I have allotted to nightwear.

I just wear t-shirts to bed. The same ones I wear during the day, dual-purpose t-shirts. I think a lot of women do this. (My favorite has this message: "All men are created equal. Poor things.")

So who buys the long nightgowns? Mennonite women who also braid their hair and wear nightcaps to bed? Little girls - because the nightgowns are decorated in their favorite Disney princess motif?

The Vermont Country Store has flannel nightshirts for men, too. Have you ever known a man who actually sleeps in one of these? Is this a product, like a necktie, that is sold at Christmas to people who don't really know what to give the guys on their list?

Is this another example of creating a market for products that no one needs?

A Few Years Between Birthdays

When I was in charge of the composition department (typesetting and paste up) at Central Press many years ago, I hired this young lady, who was fresh from New York, as a proofreader. She was a great proofreader, she personally cut the number of spoiled jobs down to almost nothing. Helene also became a good friend.

This photo was at a birthday party at my house, I think. I recognize my old dishes in the foreground. The picture was probably taken in the late 70s or early 80s. Helene went on to get her masters degree and then a doctorate and has spent her life doing environmental research. She bikes, she kayaks, she does cross country skiing.

I hadn't seen her for years until last night, when she invited a bunch of us from her past just to celebrate. It was fun, I hope I get to see Helene more often than once every 20 years.

A Stormy Day in the Neighborhood

...and all over the west, I guess. This morning offically marked the beginning of winter in Sloughhouse. It was the day the dust turned to mud. The dust has been kicked up by tractors plowing continually for 2 weeks. Now that it's washed off the trees, I can see that they are in glorious fall color. I'll have to go out and collect a few and start a new gourd painting.

I like having something to do on long winter evenings, and gourd painting is great. You can paint and listen to music or books on tape, or meditate all at the same time. I have a great laptop (Apple of course) and could theoretically watch shows or movies. I do watch "House" and "Dog Whisperer" and "30 Rock." I've been watching them on Hulu. It looks like Hulu is going to start charging for its services. That's their privilege, but there is no way I'm going to pay them.

I wouldn't mind paying for the shows I like. I'd pay in a minute for new episodes of FarScape, but I'd want my money to go to the people who produce the show, to help pay for it and free them from having to sell out to advertisers.

TV has been pretty much a dead thing in this house for many years. The sounds coming from the game room are from Rockband or from happy young people beating each other at board games or computer games. They don't sit and stare at a wall together, watching over-dramatized, reality shows, they're living their own reality - having conversations and having fun.

There isn't much sound inside the house in the winter. The sound of the fan on the woodstove. I love it. I sit in my chair with a cup of hot tea and 3 kitties on my lap, reading a book on my Kindle (there's not even the sound of pages turning).

I just finished Freedom by Johnathan Franzen. I haven't read his first book yet, but I enjoyed this one. I especially identified with the character Walter in his love of birds, and his frustration in trying to preserve habitat for them. I like books that follow a set of characters through their lifetime. It's like real life condensed into a short space of time. You don't forget, by the end of a person's life, that they were completely different when they were younger.

This is one of my pet peeves in my work, that few educators are able to look into the future and see that the kid they've written off just because he can't read in the third grade has other attributes that may serve him well. Where I work, we develop programs to train teachers to teach reading better, so fewer of those third graders will be written off. But I see Bob and his group of friends all grown up now, and it's evident to me that our local public school would have failed them even if they'd been great readers right on schedule (and some of them were). It wasn't academics, ultimately, that gave them the tools they needed, it was their extra-curricular interests and the work habits - doing REAL work - they learned from their parents and other adults. And maybe the confidence in their own abilities that they learned from having opportunities outside the academic world.

It just doesn't work to try to thread all of humanity through the eye of an academic needle. We keep paying more and more money trying to do just that, then complaining our schools don't work because we aren't spending enough. Bull pucky.

Many of the kids who DO make it through the eye of that needle can't afford to go to college. And the ones who do find a way spend years paying off their loans, at jobs that pay no more than the kids who left high school to do real work.

I have to go now. Need to mellow out.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

I have no excuses. I must get outside today and plant tulips. I shall also fill the woodbox and make Bob clean the cat boxes and take out the garbage. It would be easier to do that myself than nag him, but I can't lift that stuff. Wednesday is the day we both have off. I'm surprised he doesn't volunteer to work someone else's shift on Wednesdays.

Are you getting ready for Thanksgiving? Our plans are firming up. I'm not cooking. Bob might be, which is OK because he's a better cook than I am.

Looking forward to meeting grandniece Tessa for the first time and to seeing relatives that I don't get to see as often as I'd like.

I hope your Wednesday is sunny, too.

Down the Hill with Mike

Jonathan took this little video from the second seat in the van as Mike was driving us down Haleakala to the point where the boys could take off on bikes. It's about 4 minutes long, but you'll get to hear the whole bloody story of the Iao Valley, you'll get to see the van going across the yellow line occasionally as Mike, driving with one hand, points out things of interest with his other hand. And you will see that there is no guardrail. Eeek. And imagine the German tourists in the back of the van trying to figure out what's being said.

I'd like to add that, in hindsight, Mike is a very skilled driver. He was friendly and helpful and tried to tell us as much as he could about the scenery. If he'd been a laid-back Hawaiian, talking at 1/3 the speed, we'd never have gotten to hear so much.

So here is Jonathan's "Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride."  (Movie)

Hawaiian Sunset

As promised, here is a glorious Hawaiian sunset for you.

Miscellany

On Oahu there are many types of public transportation. They prefer that you don't drive because traffic jams are common. On Maui, however, we had to have a car. I'm sure there were busses, I just didn't see them. This is what I did see:

Here is another form of transportation I saw.

The first time I saw a paddleboard, I thought that was how people got their surfboards out to where the big waves are. I wondered what they did with the paddles when they caught a wave. Well, you only see paddleboards on the tame side of the island, most of the folks who were on them weren't coordinated enough to actually ride waves, they were just doodling around and having a good time.

Hand Signals

Moms, I want you to know that I forced the guys to pose for the Iao Hand Signal picture I posted yesterday. They are too polite otherwise. (Well, Bob isn't, but he's my problem.)

It took a few days to get the "Hang Loose" signal perfected. I found a t-shirt with a picture to guide us.

And by the last day, the guys had it figured out.

They were good sports about my hounding them for a picture every time we got ready to leave in the car. Thanks guys!

And by the last day, even I had the finger thing figured out.

Too bad, just about the time we figured out how to hang loose, we had to head back to the mainland.

Iao Valley

At the Iao Valley I sat in the car and read my Kindle as the guys were hiking. I had given my camera to Bob, so he took these pictures.

This one is the Iao Needle. Even though they will tell you that the Hawaiians saw it as a phallic symbol, they call it a "needle."

Here is a picture of Jon next to a warning sign.

And here are the guys, obviously not heeding the sign's warning.

Ancient Hawaiian Iao Valley salute, used by Maui warriors in defiance of King Kamehaha, who had invaded the island.