Cats in the Bag

Velcro, 12 years old and quite a bagful, nonetheless still loves to squeeze inside a paperbag from the store.

She'll stay in a bag for hours, just watching the world go by.

Unless Big George comes by and intimidates her.

Then she sneaks back to her heated pad in the living room, and George takes over. He has a different motivation for being in the bag, though, he waits for prey to pass.

Gollum never goes near a paper bag, it looks too much like a trap. Charley won't go inside one, but he'll pee on it. Better a paper bag than a computer.

Just Beamed In

Bob and Jon beamed in to consult with the Cap'n on their way to a seasonal party. Nice outfits.

Almost.

The Nurse Quit

So, after a year of dealing with the same footnurse and having her finally come to agree with me, she is no longer working in the foot department. I showed up for my appointment and was ushered into a doctor's office instead. It was OK, he's the cute young doctor who says things like "well, bless your heart!" Now, I know that's a tactic people have been taught to say - especially to the elderly - when they're annoyed with you and are trying to defuse a situation, but I don't mind annoying doctors so I think it's cute.

I took up 20 minutes of the 3-minute appointment I was allotted, talking very fast to get in everything I had to say. At least this doctor was honest. He looked at the x-ray of my foot with me and said, "do you see anything there that could be causing a problem? I don't! I don't have a clue what's wrong, this is just weird." I'm OK with that. It beats, "Well, you have to expect these problems when you're diabetic." Which is an automatic response that has nothing to do with MY reality.

So I'll be off to Maui next month with my box of superduper bandaids. I don't intend to hike to the top of Haleakala (nor paraglide down it), mostly I'll probably just find a cozy place in the shade and watch the boys on their boogie boards. I'll have my favorite Hawaiian breakfast - bacon and a slice of fresh pineapple. I'll enjoy the balmy tropical air and pretend (maybe for the last time because who knows if I'll be able to afford it next year?) that I'm a spoiled tourist.

Is there anything you want me to bring back for you?

I Hate These Shoes (Part 4, or Maybe 5)

Review: Three years ago I found out I was diabetic when I got an infected big toe. It was cut off. My foot has been an ongoing problem ever since, even though my A1C has been between 4.8-5.1 for 2-1/2 years (that's fairly low for even a non-diabetic). The physical problem is recurring osteomyelitis. The mental problem is that the doctors and I are from different planets.

I've told you before about the original prescription Frankenstein shoes that I can barely stand up in, let alone walk. I have a newer pair that is 2 sizes smaller, but still very big and bulky. I don't wear them very often because my feet get tangled up and I fall down. I hate falling down. I especially hate the thought of falling down since Aunt Beth took a tumble and ended up in the hospital with lots of owies.

I have talked to shoe guys and orthopedic people, bought 2 pairs of expensive shoes with my own money (they didn't work either). I finally ended up wearing Arcopedicos, the original style that is made from netting that expands. They're washable, the shoes are roomy but not bulky. I like them fine.

But the doctors do not. Whenever I sense a toe problem coming on and make an appointment, the first thing they notice is that I'm not wearing the prescription shoes. I have to take up 90% of my 3-minute appointment explaining yet again how I came to be wearing them. And even though it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, they always claim that I'm having problems with my toes because I'm diabetic and I'm not wearing the prescription shoes.

Yes, I'm stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I've studied this thoroughly and just for the record the nurse, who I see every two weeks, has reached the same conclusions I have, and she can't get the doctors to pay attention either.

So, I have an appointment with one of the foot doctors on Friday a.m. Just to refresh my memory about why the prescription shoes don't work for me, I've been wearing them this week. I can't wear them to drive, the right shoe covers both the accelerator and the brake pedal. I can't wear them when I go downhill or down stairs, the heels are high and put me at a dangerous angle. Etc.

Today I found another reason why I hate these stinking shoes. I had the day off and needed to work in the flower garden. I tried clomping around in the shoes. It was hard, I kept stepping on plants and mashing them. When I'd pull the yellow wagon, I'd get the shoes tangled up in the wheels or wouldn't feel the edge of the sidewalk and would stumble. After an hour or so, I was pretty tense.

Then as I was clomping along the sidewalk, a little pink frog hopped out of the flowers. I couldn't stop. I couldn't swerve with those damned shoes. I didn't feel the poor frog crunch, but I could sure hear it.

"Oh, crap, foo, ugh, jeeeeeeeezus!" I almost urped my lunch.

The poor frog didn't stick to the bottom of the shoe. I almost wish it had, just as a special treat for the foot doctor.

Damn, I hate those shoes.

Finally -- Someone is Making Sense!

"Let the old folks retire early and make way for young workers."

Read this article (here) and see how much sense it makes. If you don't want to read the whole article, this is the main idea put forth by economist James Galbraith:

"We've lost a huge number of jobs. No matter how effective a program we enact -- and the fact is we're going nowhere fast -- we're not going to recreate good jobs for everyone's who's lost them," Galbraith said. "So it makes sense to have some priorities."

Galbraith's priority is jobs for younger people who desperately want to work, made possible by retirement for older people who don't. "People who have good reason not to be in the labor force should be allowed to get out and should be allowed to get out gracefully." 

Saturday Night Out

Go on over to Katherine's blog (here) to see what I was up to last night.

All I can add to her nice report is that when they asked for a female volunteer from the audience to go up on the stage, I was dying to do it. Only 2 problems. They needed the female voice to sing "mama sings tenor," after the Johnny Cash line, "daddy sings base." (You know the song, I think it's called "Will The Circle Be Unbroken.")  I can't sing tenor, it would have sounded like daddy was also singing tenor. And number 2, I couldn't make it up and down those dinky stairs that have no railing. I tried to get Katherine to volunteer so she could stand next to the handsome Jim Garner, but she dug her fingernails into the arms of the chair and it would have taken a forklift to move her - with the chair - onto stage.

Katherine is correct about the small theater in Sutter Creek, it's a joy. We got there early and sat with the owner in the wine bar, talking about all kinds of backstage stuff.

This morning it's raining. I filled the woodbox for the first time this season. Used my nitrile gloves that Merlene brought from Texas for me. They're great, they're thin enough not to be bulky but strong enough to ward off splinters. The only thing I couldn't do while I was wearing them was feel my keys in the bottom of my purse. But I can rarely do that without gloves on, either. Thank you Merlene!

Purina Gets It

Women are important to the poultry business.

How long do you suppose it will take the "good old boys" in the midwest to figure that out?

Politics

When I attended UC Davis in the 1960s, I was a political science major. It was a really fun time to be studying politics, and at that age students are sooo idealistic. In subsequent years, my interest in politics prompted me to work on campaigns. Not a lot, and not in any important capacity.

But over the years, politics, like other consumer-directed businesses, has become totally out of whack. The goal is not to give people what they want or need, the goal is to convince them that what you are selling, and ONLY what you are selling, is what they must have or they will perish. Well, I say poo to that. Actually I say worse things, but I won't use those words here.

I belong to the Sacramento County Farm Bureau. There are not very many farmers left in this county. Last time I went to an SCFB social activity, I think the top 3 officers of the organization had all just sold their family farms to developers, something I despise. But anyway, this is the season when we all get dozens of political brochures in the mail, each touting a candidate.

I'm not against political brochures. I worked in print shops for many years, and election years were always very good for business. I don't usually read them, though. I glance at them to see if I can get any ideas for graphics - typefaces, layout, unusual or clever logos - as I throw them in the recycle bin.

One brochure was from the Farm Bureau, which has made itself an appendage of the Republican party. I investigated the candidates they recommended. All but 1 were born and raised outside California. Only one was born and raised on a farm in California. Hello? Do I want some foreign-born (from another state) city slicker in charge of my destiny? Someone who won't hesitate to send all northern California's water to southern California? Someone who really doesn't give a hoot about raising vegetables, but is quite chummy with corporate farmers and smooches up to Archer Daniel Midland? No way, José.

I also get brochures from the Sacramento County Taxpayers Association. They usually only support candidates who share their views, so in some contests they don't make a recommendation. They don't have comments on all the propositions, either, only the ones that strike them as important to Taxpayers. I don't always agree, but I gain from reading their information.

I already filled out my ballot and mailed it in. I voted for some Democrats and some Republicans. I voted for a Peace and Freedom candidate in one instance, and a Libertarian in another. I voted on each proposition after I read the material and made up my own mind. Sometimes it was hard: the Sacramento County Sheriff made a good argument FOR legalizing marijuana, but I can't stand the smell of it and the last thing I want is to have that stuff wafting through the air. I didn't vote for or against any of the judges, I don't know a thing about them, nor could I find anything out. Why in the world are we voting for judges anyway???

I always get griped because the things that are important to me are never on a ballot. Let me vote about banning any more huge developments in this county. Break the state's budget down into 10 major categories and let me check off the ones I choose to support. Let me vote to totally ban all advertising by drug manufacturers, and to put warning labels on junk food and tax it to the max. That's my new slogan "Tax Twinkies, Not Income."

I don't think I need another cup of coffee this morning. I'm going to take this energy out and get some chores taken care of before the deluge we're expecting.

Boppin' Around

On my day off.

I have been trying to get a lot accomplished on my Wednesdays so I can have relaxing weekends. On Wednesdays, the stores and parking lots are relatively empty and the lines are short.

This morning I went to Kaiser for my periodic blood test. Didn't get my vampire of choice, the one I got was a little clumsy, but I survived with nothing more than a bruise on my arm that makes me look like a drug addict. At least I wasn't there the same day as Screaming Boy this time. He makes me want to run for my life rather than face whoever is sucking the blood out of him.

Next was Walmart. I really don't like Walmart, but they have socks I can't seem to find anywhere else. I hadn't been there in a while. Half the store is now full of groceries. Have I said this before? - I think it's nasty to have groceries and clothes in the same store. Buy a sweater then throw a package of grapes and some frozen food packages on top of it; that's what they expect you to do. And I don't like having mixed bags of stuff in the back of the car, either.

There were some good things that happened in Walmart, though. I got a $5 Halloween t-shirt for Bob (Vampires loooove brains - even your tiny one.). When I was trying to lift a huge bag of cat litter into my cart a young man with his hat on backwards and wearing baggy pants stepped up and grabbed it, "Don't you do that!" he said, "That's what guys like me are for." Sometimes true gentlemen come in unexpected wrappers.

The checkout clerk was fun, he was a tall black kid with many braids and the biggest grin. He had been happy all day, he said, because he was interviewed this morning on TV. He'd been trying to sneak in the door, late to work, and there were cameras and lights. I would have picked him out of a crowd to interview, too, if only for that smile.

I found most of the stuff on my brother's list of things to buy for the truck repair project. I couldn't figure out which oil filter to buy, though, so I went to Pep Boys. Got it, then asked what I could do about the broken key. (That would be the one Bob broke off in the ignition switch several years ago.) I was referred to a key shop a couple of miles away. At the key shop I was told to go back to Pep Boys and get a new ignition switch, that it would cost a lot more to have a key maker deal with the problem than to just replace the part, which comes with 2 new keys.

I was griped that Pep Boys didn't even know this, so I went to Napa Auto Parts instead. There was a skinny old guy behind the counter; one of those fellows who knows everything. Obviously has a PhD in auto parts.

So now the only thing left to do before my brother returns is the dreaded trip to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV, YP). My comments this a.m. made it sound like the truck hasn't been registered for 18 years. That isn't so, it's more like 5 years. It will probably cost more to register it than it's actually worth, but that's beside the point.

Actually, there will be one more thing to do: the hood has lost blotches of paint. It looks like a Holstein cow. I'm debating whether to sand it myself and just spray paint it, or to take it off and have it done somewhere. I don't want to repaint the whole truck, that would be like putting an evening gown on a pig. Oh, wait, someone did that! (Miss Piggy)

I got a few things accomplished at home this afternoon, too. I put the Leghorn with the totally healed leg in a nice big pen with the blind Dominique Bantam cockerel. So far, so good, she's not afraid of him. And I brought the baby Taganrog pigeon in the house. It's just getting pinfeathers, and it's OK, but I've been worried about it. The parents kicked its sibling out of the nest last week when I wasn't checking every day and I found it dead on the floor. This one has been squeaking a lot, like it isn't being fed well enough. So, Leghorn out; Taganrog in. It's totally cute, with a little dot on its forehead.

The dumbo Taganrog parents laid another set of eggs. I put them under Roger, he's a peach of a dad.

At the end of the day I stopped by the travel agency and picked up the tickets to Maui. Bob, Jonathan, Travis and Brent are going too. Bob says the guys are going to rent Mopeds and ride from one public beach to another. I don't have a clue what I'll be doing. I like it that way.

Sight for Sore Eyes

One day last week I came home in the waning daylight to see this in front of the garage.

My brother and my son were working on the old Chevy truck. This made me smile. I've wished for years that Bob would have a chance to work with his uncle, who I consider to be one of the best mechanics on the face of the Earth. He's a good teacher, too, so even if you're doing the work taking off the wheel and he's just standing there telling you what to do, you're learning a lot.

They got the sprung door fixed. They had the truck running and it sounded pretty good. When they drove it around the field, they found a problem with the brake. So Jerry left me a list of things to buy and said he'll be back.

The most difficult thing on my list is a replacement for the key that Bob broke off in the ignition. I'm not sure where to start looking for that. Oh, and DMV is bound to be a nightmare.

Baby Boy in the Family

And this is the new baby boy in the family, born Sept. 15. His name is Dominic Marc Petrilla, parents are Bob's cousin Dominic and Dom's wife Kristina. He'll be the only boy for a while, Bob's other cousin Joe is welcoming a baby daughter soon.

Do you know the way to San Jose?

Tuesday last week, Melanie and I took a vacation day, got up early and fought our way through traffic to San Jose to the Convention Center.

We were there to see and hear his Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet at the San Jose Convention Center. 

He spoke on the Eight Verses for Training the Mind (see them here) to a crowd of 12,000 people. Actually, they weren’t a crowd, they didn’t have a crowd mentality. When the Dalai Lama took his place at the front of the stage, there was an awesome silence and intense concentration from the audience that lasted for two hours. I don’t remember even hearing anyone cough. It was definitely not like a revival meeting. Melanie and I sat pretty far back. The DL on this throne looked about an inch tall to us from there. Luckily there were screens throughout the hall so everyone could see. 

When I told my brother I’d gone to see the DL, he paused for a minute and asked, “And why was that?” My brother never knows, I might have become a Buddhist recently. My answer: Because I could. And because Melanie was driving. And it seemed like it was something a person should do if there was an opportunity.

It was an interesting experience. The DL is elderly and his English is a little hard for me to follow, though he has a top-notch interpreter who knows just when to prompt him with the appropriate word here and there. The 8 Verses are things we all know, especially those of us who have occasionally studied self-improvement. Most of us are too preoccupied with our own mundanity to practice them faithfully, but it's good to be reminded.


I was surprised to learn that there is a fairly large contingent of Tibetans in the Bay Area. Many of them showed up in their colorful native clothes. Most of the Tibetans I saw resembled Peruvians more than Asians. Aside from the Tibetans, the group reminded me of the Waldorf school parent group. Melanie has been to Tibet and has friends there. We felt at home, for different reasons.


At the end of the program, a person from the DL's staff gave a financial accounting. He said "this is how much we made --, the expenses were this much --; we are dividing the profit 3 ways," and then he named the 3 organizations who would share in them. I wonder if this ever happens with Christian televangelists? I thought it was great because I'm always one of those people who is mentally counting the number of folks in the audience and multiplying that by the ticket price. I'm not knocking Christians, by the way, but some of those dudes who claimed to represent them on TV over the years have just been ridiculous. Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker come to mind. Our pet turkey was named after Tammy Faye.


Melanie and I left the Convention Hall feeling calm and peaceful. The last message from the DL was to leave our mundanities behind. We got into the elevator with an older lady on a walker who was accompanied by her daughter. The daughter turned to us and asked, "Did you see James Bond?"


"Which one?" Melanie asked. I was thinking Sean Connery, she was thinking the most recent one, the young guy. 


"Pierce Brosnan," the daughter answered. "We were sitting right behind him."


"Where were you sitting?" Melanie asked.


"In the handicapped section," the daughter answered. "It was at the front of the room, just behind the celebrities."


Melanie punched me on the arm. "Next time, you're bringing your walker!"


Our mundanities had not taken long to catch up with us.


We knew the way to San Jose, but got lost on the way home and ended up in San Francisco. That's OK, it's always nice to see SF on a sunny day, and when you're just passing through and feeling mellow.


I truly admire the Dalai Lama, and it's obvious he's very dear to the Tibetan Buddhists. I was glad we saw him. I'm usually baffled by things related to any organized religion, though, and my sense of mundanity is hard to overcome.


Can anyone tell me why this beautiful Buddha, whose picture we were given, seems androgynous? And why is it wearing lipstick?

Baby Girls in the Family

Grand niece Tessa, my brother's granddaughter, is a year old already.

I didn't drive up to Oregon to help celebrate, but these are the pictures her mother Sarah shared on Facebook. Even with those big blue eyes and long lashes, and delicate Emily Post manners at the table, Tessa does not appear to be strictly a girly-girl. Tessa has athletic parents and a motorcycle-riding grandpa. So I guess it's not unusual for her to be riding a bike on her first birthday.

Note to self: look for baby-sized leather biker babe jacket.

Last night Bob and I had dinner in Plymouth at my cousin Libby's house. Her baby Lexi Raye is a little firecracker, too, a few months younger. Here she is with Bob.

Bob's cousin Dominic has a two-year old daughter named Lexi (Short for Alexys), and a new son as well. Christmas is starting to be fun again.

Welcome Back, Gwynessa

Bob, Daniel, and Gwynessa, with a pizza cake that Daniel baked for the homecoming party. The base is white cake, with red frosting covered with white chocolate "cheese" and fruit leather "pepperoni."

Gwynessa spent her summer in Italy. It's good having her back for Game Night, she does a good job keeping the guys organized.

Blogspot Problem

Some of the photos I'm trying to upload are coming in sideways, even though they're fine in Photoshop. I can't find a way to rotate them in Blogspot. Does anyone know what to do about this? Did MicrofrellingSoft buy Blogspot or something? This is the kind of problem I usually only encounter with a Bill Gates-inspired software.

New Notebook

I found this terrific 3-D notebook to replace my little yellow one.

Why did I need a replacement? Well, I packed the little yellow one around for 2 years. Everywhere I went, I dutifully recorded all the facts and figures, addresses and phone numbers, directions to people's houses: everything that mattered and needed to be remembered. Because my brain has worn out and I can't remember these things for more than maybe 4 minutes.

The notebook went to Texas this spring. It went to Savannah and back in June. Well, it almost made it back. Somewhere in Nevada, I think, it slipped into the garbage can behind the front seat in the car and got tossed.

That's what happens when you're too compulsive. I dutifully wrote everything down and kept the notebook handy, where I could record things instantly. And I dutifully kept the car tidy by controlling the trash. Even so, how could I miss seeing a YELLOW book in a small trash bag?

Wonder Woman's first trip will be to Maui.

Two-Headed Fuzzbutt?

Melanie took this picture of me holding two of the Fuzzbutts, the little pullet (right) and one of her brothers. They are still very sweet and love to be picked up and held.

Katherine Won!

This picture shows more of the wonderful detail in her carved dragon. The public vote at the Harvest Festival was close, but Katherine won the cash.

The second place pumpkin, #8 was carved by last year's winner. I found out that she got lots of practice carving soap in the Peace Corps. Huh? Well, she carved soap animals for the kids in her village. Isn't it nice to know about people like that?

The Harvest Festival is past, but there were a lot of people out buying pumpkins this weekend until it started raining. Yay! It's raining! Now I can sit in here and catch up on my blogging and not feel like I'm neglecting my chores.

You Can Vote Here

Here are all the entries in the pumpkin carving contest. Vote for your favorite.

Here are Killigan and his brother, selling coffee.

And here is the Punkin Queen.

One more...Capn has decorated his Halloween pumpkin. Stupid dog Tubix can't even chase raccoons.

Carving Contest

There are lots of things going on at the Harvest Festival. There are crafts booths. If my mother was still alive, she'd have a booth out there, selling her hand-made items. Or walking around and getting ideas for new things to make. She could knit or crochet almost anything, making up her own patterns. I don't have that talent. I made one sweater. The arms were inordinately long, it would have fit an orangutan quite well.

But I didn't have to knit or crochet because mom did it all that so well.

There are booths where ladies sell handmade jewelry. I always buy something from them, I especially like the dichroic pieces. Not so much to wear, I just like to look at them, they're like tiny weird worlds with unearthly colors.

One booth is a favorite of mine, the coffee booth. There is a family in nearby Wilton that roasts coffee beans and sells it under their own label. My favorite is Killian's Special Reserve. Killian is their Irish Setter. He sits out in the booth and sells a lot of coffee, he's a totally gorgeous, silky-coated big sweetheart of a dog. They could probably use that dog to sell bad coffee, but the coffee is actually very good. I'm drinking a cup of it right now.

Mostly local people have booths at the Festival. There's a country western band, and it's from Wilton. Yesterday I caught this picture of the cowboy (or faux cowboy) who sells teepees dancing with the cowgirl (obviously faux) who sells hats.

To be fair, I'll ask them today if they have any cows. A lot of people who are into the cowboy culture don't even own a cow. Or a horse. But that's okay. I'm into science fiction and I've never been to space.

As I mentioned yesterday, there's a pumpkin carving contest. First prize is $300. The carving was yesterday. My artist friend Katherine came over to compete. She spent a lot of time shopping for just the right pumpkin.

If you read Katherine's blog, you have already seen her creation. If not, I'll show you. Katherine usually does scrimshaw on teeny tiny pieces of ivory. A pumpkin is a bit bigger. Here she is starting with the outline, using linoleum cutting tools. That would be for linoleum BLOCK cutting, not for mutilating the kitchen floor. I had to ask, so don't feel dumb.

It took 4.5 hours of carving away, making lots of tiny little pumpkin chips.

And when she was finished, there was a fantastic dragon on it.

Most of the other contestants finished theirs in 30 minutes or so. Here are some of their entries.

A couple of the other competitors were more skilled. The lady in the foreground won this contest last year.

I'll take some photos this morning when I go out to vote. If you're passing by today, please stop and vote, hopefully for Katherine's entry. Mr. Pudding, you can land that Cessna on the farm road that goes behind the corn stand. My brother did it a couple of times, except he was flying an Aeronca. And except he crashed it in the neighbor's back yard the last time he flew it out this way. But, oh well. If you buzz the corn stand a couple of times before you land we'll make sure the tractors are out of the way. And I'll have a cup of Killians ready for you.

Anyone who comes out should feel free to stop by and visit. Late yesterday Bob and I had a visit from very tall Ryan and his new girlfriend. Ryan was the social director at 4-H camp; he is the person who is always in charge of having a good time. He told us how he and his girlfriend got separated in the corn maze, so Ryan recruited 3 little boys to help find her. He gave them each a corn cob for a weapon in case they ran into monsters.

I always love seeing Ryan, he's one of those people who carries lots of sunshine with him. A Ryan hug is worth a lot. New girlfriend, whose name I haven't remembered yet, hang onto this guy. (She seems like a lot of fun herself.)

I'm heading out now. If there's anything you want a picture of, let me know.

Punkin Lesson

Today was Day 1 of the Harvest Festival in Sloughhouse. Once again, there are lots of pumpkins and gourds and everything else people need to decorate for Halloween. The Corn Stand is colorfully decorated.

As soon as I saw it this morning, I knew the guys hadn't done the decorating. Mari, the tiny little gal here, was in charge.

There are lots of varieties of pumpkins. Here are some pictures that show their names.

There are at least 10 other types, including the mini versions. Which is the best for pies? None of them. For pie, it's recommended to use banana squash. Cinderella is okay.

I think the pumpkin names are fun: Kamo Kamo, Lunch Lady, Magician, Cinderella, One Too Many, Knucklehead, Long Island Cheese, Jarra Dale, Lumina, Big Mac, Super Herc, and Mystic.

Come on out to the Festival tomorrow and vote for your favorite in the pumpkin carving contest. Katherine's is #2.

Lifetime Sulk

“I hate all injustices. 

The big ones make me furious. 

The smaller ones make me sulk.”

Daphne, “A Lifetime of Sulking,” 

from her blog My Dad’s a Communist, 

Wednesday Sept. 29, 2010 

(you can find it in the column to the right of this one)

When I read this in Daphne’s blog, it was like getting hit with a brick. “THAT,” I realized, “is why I’ve been in a funk for the past couple of weeks.” I’ve been sulking. Not over something new, just recent additions to small injustices that add up over a lifetime. 

I think many people eat when they sulk. That does me no good. Raw bell peppers and cauliflower  don’t have the same effect that donuts and chocolate would. So I just stew and snarl, mostly to myself. Katherine and Melanie and son Bob were kind enough to put up with me, or maybe they just plugged their ears and nodded and smiled and it seemed like they were being kind. Whatever, I appreciate it.

But I didn’t want to drag the rest of you along, so I have been waiting until the mood passed. The causes were nothing serious: new rules at work and another bout with Dr. Rockhead, the podiatrist. 

Because the podiatrist told me to stay off my foot, I didn’t get to hear either of the girls sing. I didn’t know how much walking it would entail and had a foot appointment in the middle of the day on Wednesday, so that messed up the plan to go to Napa, see Joan Tuesday, stay overnight and see Emmy Lou the next night.

And because I was supposed to stay off my foot, instead of getting the garden ready for fall, I’ve been sitting on my butt and reading a lot. I downloaded 3 books to my Kindle. All were about how to deal with doctors. My favorite is Empowered Patient by Elizabeth Cohen. I didn’t learn much new, but it was reaffirming. And having some suggestions for civil behavior kept me out of trouble.

I also watched a lot of Farscape on my laptop. I got a DVD of all four seasons. Right now I’m at the end of season 2. Beverly says DVDs of the old Highway Patrol shows are also available. I can see them for free on Hulu, not sure I need my own copies, they’re pretty corny.

Real life doesn’t stop on a farm just so someone can sulk. The leghorn's leg has healed entirely and very well. I tried to reintroduce her to the layer pen, but she prefers being in the house. Really. I'm not OK with that, but haven't been able to get out there and find a better solution yet.

There are 4 new baby pigeons. The latest were just hatched last night. 



The stupid parents left the nest when the eggs pipped and never went back to it. When I brought the eggs in, they were very cold and I could barely see any movement in them when I candled them. I put them in the incubator anyway, and they hatched. (Pigeons are the toughest critters on the face of the Earth.) I’m handfeeding them, so if I see you in the next two weeks, you’ll probably get to meet them because I’ll be packing them around with me. I’ve handfed baby pigeons before, but not from Day 1. It’s a challenge.

Here’s something you don’t see every day, a praying mantis eating a baby lizard. 



I watched her for a couple of hours, and she ate the whole thing. Where did she put it? It doesn’t look like there’s room in her body for all that food, does it? And lizards are pretty strong, not fragile like a mantis’s usual prey. It would be like a greyhound catching and killing an alligator. Then eating the whole thing.

It's 10-4!!!

Happy Broderick Crawford Day to my friends around the world. Who would have thought that Hallmark has a card for this? I got one in the mail.

My very own clever sister-in-law Tina used her artistic talent and a little white-out to adapt this card for the occasion. And just to prevent copyright infringement, Hallmark designed the original.

So remember Broderick Crawford today. You can access the full set of old Highway Patrol TV programs on Hulu.com if you're curious. They take you back to a different time.

10-4