Dusty Goes to Work

Katherine came over this evening to give Dusty a refresher course. Since he's been having a great time getting Brianna to do whatever he wants, the first thing Katherine had to do was get his attention.


Then she put him to work.


Blue Top and That Goat observed it all from a safe distance.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I got a catalog in the mail today that has all sorts of decorative doodads you can buy for your house. One of the things is this print of a cute little angel. I loved it until I took a second look at the wings.

Poultry folks will see right away that no real wing ever looked like this motley assortment of feathers. And the feathers aren’t even flight feathers.

What the heck?

If you were going to put so much detail into a painting, wouldn’t you at least research what wings are supposed to look like? My feeling is that God would never design an angel with useless wings. Maybe this one isn’t meant to fly. Maybe it dusts your furniture.

An Astonishing Discovery

Last night I was in the bathroom learning that even a good haircut can look skaggy, when there was a crash and a glowing ball floated in through a gaping hole in the window. Some unseen force drew me to it. I carefully picked it up. The light was pure and cool and comforting. As I held it in my hands, it pulsated. My brain tingled in disbelief as it attempted to communicate with me...

Or maybe I’ve just been fooling around in Photoshop again. I don’t just pick on Bob, I just have an abundance of his photos to work with. Actually most of what I’ve learned about Photoshop I learned from Bob. And he’s merciless to his friends. One of his masterpieces is “Gwynessa With Dead Cat,” modified from a 4-H camp photo taken during a shaving cream battle.

I promise I won’t do that to my friends.

I agree with PETA on this

I've often been on the other side of the fence on PETA issues. For example, the people who think all chickens should be free to roam. They've obviously never raised chickens and don't understand about dogs, raccoons, owls, etc. The chickens are kept in pens to PROTECT them, not to torture them. And I often end this internal rant by asking "What kind of idiot ARE you?"

But on this issue, I agree with them:
.....................
PETA wants military to stop using animals in medical training
http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/07/29/peta.military.ap/index.html

(A summary):
PETA said the military inflicts gunshot, burn and chemical wounds on monkeys, pigs and goats for training.

PETA’s letter comes 10 days after the group failed to prevent the Army from shooting live pigs and treating their gunshot wounds in a medical trauma exercise at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii.

The Army said the training is critical to teach soldiers how to manage critically injured patients within the first few hours of their injuries when there are no medics, doctors or facilities nearby.
.........................

Should the Army train medics? Of course. But aren't there enough HUMAN gunshot victims in most major US cities where the trainees could observe or help? It's easy, you just have a training facility in Oak Park instead of in some rural area in Podunk, North Carolina. Do we train non-military medical people by blasting farm animals?

Or how about we just stop keeping troops in stupid places where they get blown up in the first place?

I've just thought of a perfect solution, one that both the Army AND PETA could learn from.

Have a farm where the chickens, pigs and goats run free and happy. Then when the raccoons, coyotes, loose dogs, mountain lions, and bears come in and decimate them, the Army can practice treating their wounds.

New T Shirt 2

Family T-Shirt

I found a T-shirt for cousin Ken. Anyone on my dad's side of the family could wear it, but cousin Ken is probably the only one who would. I'll upload a picture of it as soon as I can figure out how to do that.

Mama Mia!

Wooooohooooo! Rockin’ OUT!

OK, Aunty Mo, I went to see Mama Mia with fun people tonight. It wouldn’t have mattered, though, everyone in the theater was having fun. When we came out, it was like we all should have been singing and dancing. (And this was in Lodi, don’cha know?)

There were more white-haired people there than I’ve ever seen in a theatre. And white-haired GUYS as well as women. That music just gets in your bones, and makes even achy old bones feel good.

My favorite song is “Does Your Mama Know?”. I’ve never been that fond of the words, they’re borderline dirty old man, but now that I’ve seen a dirty old woman sing the song I LOVE it. The best way to hear this song is in a car with really good speakers (like mine) and turn it up as loud as it will go. It’s even better with the windows all down so EVERYONE will know how weird you are.

I’ve come to work several mornings this way, and what’s so great about where I work is if someone else is in the parking lot, they’ll stop and dance. The whole song. They may look like dignified education types, but they are WILD WOMEN. Well, and a few guys.

Thanks Katherine, Lauren, and Cherie for the good time. And thank you, Avery, for coming along. Somehow life just seems right when there’s a teenaged boy around.

Phoebe Visits

Mellie from work stopped by Saturday with her first Norwich Terrier, Phoebe. Phoebe came to work often when we had a dog-friendly environment. It’s great having a puppy at work, it cheers everyone. I got to show Mel and Phoebe around the yard. Mel took these pix.

They got to see the bird house that Susie fixed for me.


They got to see Rudy, who has no tail right now. He’s pretty much molted except for a single long feather. He’s very embarrassed to be seen, especially by Trudy. It’s no problem because she’s STILL on the nest (which is empty) and only comes down twice a day to gulp down some food.


They got to meet 3 of the 5 Bobs, who were still hanging out on the couches that morning. But no cats. Even Charley the fearless disappeared when Phoebe came into the house.

Home Alone

After a busy weekend with a house full of people, I'm home alone tonight. So I've been here playing with Photoshop. This is a younger Bob with big hair and Vulcan ears. Actually, Bob has my mom's hair and she often wore a hairstyle like this just before she got an overdue haircut. I think that's all Bob got from my mom. I wish he'd inherited her spelling ability like I did.

I had an appointment with Susan the physical therapist this afternoon. I toddled in on my cane and shocked her. Before I left she had given me another cane and showed me how to use the two of them. I can do a reasonable imitation of walking with two canes.

Susan measures my muscle strength every time I have an appointment. Today we went back over her notes and she confirmed that I've improved immensely just in the past 3 weeks. I can do some things quite well that I couldn't do at all before. At one point she said, "Your butt muscles weren't working at all before. I could never figure out how you managed to stand up and walk with a walker, you shouldn't have been able to do that."

Hmmm. Ignorance is bliss.

I owe it all to the stationary bike and my rock head, which I inherited from BOTH sides of the family. I still use the bike when I think I'm going to be on the phone for a while, it just seems like I should take advantage of the time. Now that I can get off the floor again, I lay down and lift my weights. I'm back to using the 6 lb ones. My goal is to have arms like Madonna. Bob snickers, "Yeah, you'll have muscles, but what are you going to do about the part that hangs down?" No problem, I can't see it from up here unless I look hard enough. I won't look.

Tomorrow I'm going to start walking a little distance with the two canes. There are some disadvantages to this. Since I've been sitting on my butt so much, my feet have shrunk. They used to be wide, like duck feet. Now they're almost normal. Well, except for the missing toe. I suppose I'll end up with wide feet again. And if I'm actually going to walk, I suppose I have to go back to wearing my prescription Kaiser shoes. The black behemoths.

I'm not giving up the walker, though. It's great for out in the yard. I sit and pull weeds and water the flowers. I think Uncle Orin would approve.

Correction

I don't have 3 good tires. So much for trying to be an optimist when it's not my nature.

The RAV4 is an all-wheel drive vehicle. It has 33,000 miles on the tires. If you replace one tire you have to replace them all. (Mitzi predicted this - she was right!) So this a.m. the car is at Les Schwab waiting to be totally reshod.

Two of the Bobs put the spare on for me. I had to read the manual just to get the spare tire cover off and find all the tools, but they worked great. And the spare tire is full-sized. That is a plus.

I still love this car. And hate the stinking stupid dump.

Good News/Bad News

The good news is I got back from the nursery, where I found some cool new plants. The bad news is I BARELY got back. Ran over a bunch of crap that fell out of the back of a dump-bound pickup. Thank you, Sacramento County Board of Supervisors once again for keeping the stinking stupid Kiefer Landfill in Sloughhouse. Isn’t 40 years of living with the whole county’s waste enough already? But I digress.

When the tire first hit the junk, I tensed up. Like when you’re riding a horse and you can see the bear in the trail, but the horse hasn’t noticed it yet. As an old trainer used to say, “Your butt grows teeth, chomps into the saddle, and hangs on.”

“This isn’t a horse,” I thought, unclenching both pairs of teeth. “It’s a Toyota.” Also, I had just finished Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth and this quote was still fresh in my mind: “Whatever you ask for, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

I didn’t ask for the tire to stay whole, I asked to get home safely. I’ve never been the most clever asker. And then I put it out of my mind. In front of Du Frene’s driveway the low tire light came on. I pulled into Luis’ driveway and drove 2 mph on the dirt roads until I got to my own driveway the back way.

I made it safely. And I DO have 3 good tires.

Now I’m waiting for the 5 Bobs to get home. I DO have AAA, but if I call AAA I’m likely to get cousin Libby’s husband Paul, who would have to come all the way down here in the heat while the 5 Bobs sat in a cool room playing games. (Or, I could call Paul and we could sit and visit and drink iced tea and watch the tire be changed.)

Another Lazy Day

Brianna the neighbor girl is out in the pasture cantering Blue Top back and forth. The horse has the misfortune of having a magnificent rocking chair canter. This is unfortunate for him because that’s the gait people want him to do all the time. Blue Top does not share their love of cantering. Moping along is his favorite gait.

The other horse, Dusty, is tied to keep him out of the way. He’s trying to figure out how to untie himself (again) or chew through the rope. Dusty loves to canter. He just stops too quick. And kicks up his heels. Or anything else he can think of for your entertainment.

Brianna’s horse is 30 years old and isn’t doing well, he might have to be put down. Blue Top could be cantering a lot for the rest of the summer.

Bob and 4 friends just left here to see the new Batman movie. They’re all wearing “Bob” shirts. Bob could outfit 20 of his friends in “Bob” shirts.

I have all my flowers planted and there is still a lot of room for more. I think I’ll make a trip to the nursery today and see what I can find.

I broke my walker last week. John fixed it for me, but in the meantime I had to use a cane. I don’t feel steady, but I can manage. I’m going to see if I can leave the walker home - where I need it to carry things around and work in the yard - and learn to use the cane better. Maybe I should avoid wearing white pants, until I’m sure they aren’t going to be hitting the dirt. Once I get to a store, I can grab a shopping cart and use it like a walker.

On the way to the nursery, I’m going to listen to ABBA and get myself in the mood to see “Mama Mia.”

And what are you up to today?

A New Relative

Passing along the fun news that Bob's cousin Dominic and his wife Kristina have a new baby girl, Alexys Rose. As you can see, proud new grandparents Patti and Marc prepared for their new job by dyeing their hair gray.

Beauty Regime

Armed with expensive shampoo and conditioner, picked out for me by Missy the stylist, and a full complement of Mary Kay cosmetics recommended by friend Cindy, I was determined to start this Monday with a new beauty regime. I had no old one, so anything would be an improvement. Right?

Fellows, you can stop reading right here, the rest will bore you unless you subscribe to "Hire the handicapped, they're fun to watch." Ladies, read on.

My blood pressure was low this a.m. (75/43) so it took a while before I attempted to get into the shower. I washed my hair, which is difficult when you have to hang on to the "grab bar" with one hand and wash with the other. Everything was OK until I used the conditioner. Uh oh. That stuff is slick. It made my hands slick, hanging onto the grab bar was suddenly a challenge. When I stuck my head under the shower to wash the excess conditioner off, that made the tub floor slick also. My blood pressure definitely came up a bit.

Got out of the shower very carefully, dried the hair on a towel, again with one hand, and tried to hook up the ionizing dryer. Hmm. Wouldn't turn on. A couple of minutes of fiddling with it and I discovered the handy-dandy anti-shock plug in the bathroom needed to be reset because the last person who used it left it sprung. (Thank you Bob.)

I put the toilet lid down so I wouldn't knock anything into it. Like the dryer. And sat on the walker so I could use both hands. Two hands were not enough. Four might have worked. I ionized my hair into a bushy mass, despite the wonder shampoo and conditioner. Then I dragged out the ancient curling iron.

I had actually used this thing a couple of times when my hair was long. It was easy then, because I could see the hair and the iron right there maybe a foot away from my face. This a.m. I could only see them in the mirror. The hair is too short, it kept popping out of the iron. I burned my fingers. I burned my neck. I sort of dented the ends of the hair though.

Next attempt: eyeliner. Guaranteed thin line, easy to apply, wonderful stuff - that's what the box said. Again, I needed 4 hands. Two to apply the stuff, one to hold the dented bushy hair out of the way, and one to bend the eyelash down out of the way. What I got was a zig-zag line, like lightning. Isn't that IN nowadays? No, maybe I'm thinking about Harry Potter. I got a big glob of the stuff on the ends of the eyelash, tried to wipe it off with a piece of toilet paper, which stuck to the eyelash. Quick drying stuff, isn't it? I got eyeliner on my nose, and on my chin? How did that happen? Oh, I see, it's all over my fingers, even under the fingernail.

Luckily I had some handy-dandy eye makeup remover. So I took it back down to bare skin and started over without the liner. Some no-clump mascara was the next attempt. Well, it didn't clump, but it did smear because my hand was shaking. And it got caught in the bushy hair. Before I got it untangled I had a long streak of skanky black hair. Had to rewash that, and re-dry it, and then because it was the only straight lock on my head, refrizz it.

Maybe lipstick would be a safer bet. Two hands, elbows on the counter, lipstick sort of in the right place.

OK, so who would want to face this battle every morning? It took 90 minutes. Without the makeup remover it would have looked like Apache warpaint. I think this beauty regime is something for the youngsters, or at least for people whose arms and hands still work as designed.

This is my new beauty regime: get up, wash face, don't look in mirror, get dressed and go to work.

What's Up With the Geese?

Every year when school starts in the fall, the geese gather in the plowed fields at dusk. They barely clear the trees when they fly, you can hear their feathers as they flap their wings.

This year they’re 2 months early. What’s up with them? The groups are smaller. They look like family units to me, from 5 to a dozen, with a couple of them missing tail feathers. I guess these are the adults that are molting.

But why are they here so early? Where did they come from? Where are they going? Why? It makes you wonder.

Need Updating

At my job, I have the best equipment, the newest and best software, and work with people who are the best at what they do. We are not mere state-of-the-art, we are the innovators who create those things.

Everywhere else in my life, I am severely behind the times.

I threw the TV away 12 years ago. (No regrets.) I don’t have a clue what people are talking about when they’re talking about their favorite shows. I read news on the internet, don’t have a clue who the network news people are anymore.

Someday a scientist will land a helicopter in the horse pasture and discover me living here like a native in the Amazon.

Mostly I don’t mind being behind the times. But when Missy “styled” my hair the other day, it was a little embarassing. She asked about my "beauty regime." Huh? She said, “I mean like, you get up in the morning and take a shower and blow dry your hair every day?”

Well no. “But I DO own a blow dryer,” I said. I didn’t tell her I bought it when Bob was going to poultry shows and needed it to dry chickens after he washed them.

I found out today that I need to update my blow dryer to one that ionizes. Melly walked up behind me and said the back of my hair was frizzy. I need some “product” and a better blow dryer.

Hmm. I can’t really see the back of my head, I don’t much care what it looks like. But in the spirit of cooperation, I went to WalMart this afternoon and picked up the stuff I supposedly need. So I guess I can’t just wash my hair anymore and drive to work with the window down to get it dry. I guess this means getting up earlier and figuring out how to hold a brush AND a blow dryer at the same time. My shoulders may not handle that yet, but I can try. Thank God it’s Friday and I’ll get to rest up for a couple of days this weekend.

If I can’t make the necessary improvements, I’ll bring the stuff to work and let Melly fix the back of my hair to suit her - she’s the one who has to see it.

I have trouble putting on make-up too. I have to hold one hand with the other, and brace my elbow, or end up with mascara everywhere. People don’t notice the mistakes too much, though. I wear glasses. And keep my nose to the grindstone. Also my eyelids sag enough to cover most of the smudges. I remember when my mom used to put on eyeshadow and ask me how it looked. “I can’t see it,” I said, “when you let go of your eyelid, it gets covered up.” I used to think that was really funny. Genetics makes sure you always get whupped for stuff like that.

Back in the Saddle (sorta)

I FINALLY have a drivers license again.

The ordeal at DMV in Folsom only took 4-1/2 hours. Bob drove me. To avoid having to get up early, he just stayed up all night, I think. I worried all the way there that I didn’t have a pair of glasses I could use to pass the vision test.

Well, I HAVE 6 pairs of glasses actually. But I can’t see very well out of any of the driving glasses. In the past year my eyes have changed a lot and the glasses are now too strong. I finally decided to wear my computer glasses. They’re made for a 36 inch distance, but for some reason I can see things far away with them now.

My eyesight (with glasses) was 20-20. Step 1 was a success!

I had also stressed about the written test. Yesterday I looked up DMV sample tests on the internet. I got through 3 of them before I discovered that I had accessed the Connecticut DMV site, not the California site. So I threw my notes away and started over. I only missed one question. Here’s the really great thing about that: I didn’t even ask which one, I just told myself to let it go and it went. Step 2 was a success!

Then I had the world’s longest behind-the-wheel driving test. The lady in Folsom was wonderful, we drove all over town and chatted and laughed and had a great time. At the end of an hour she said, “It’s so nice to be able to talk. Usually I don’t talk much, just give directions. But when we do this kind of test (to crips) we have to see if the person can talk and drive at the same time.” So much for making a new best friend.

The hardest part was at the very end. She gave me verbal instructions to drive to a destination and said she couldn’t talk to me again until we completed the test. There was a tricky intersection where 5 roads came together, and I had to turn around in an alley. Then she said, “now find your way back the same way we got here.” I wished I was on Big Ears (my old trail riding horse). No matter how lost you were, she’d find the shortest route back to the trailer. I just let the RAV4 have its head, and somehow it got us back where we were supposed to be.

My driving was fine. I got too close to the limit line at stop signs (trying to see the oncoming traffic with my computer glasses) and I don’t look over my left shoulder often enough. I let that go, also. Step 3 was a success!

And then the hard part started. For the next 2-1/2 hours, we waited for the slackers in Driver Safety downtown to get their act together. The lady in Folsom was determined to send me out the door with a license. First, the downtown computer was not working. So my lady wrote her report and faxed it instead. Then we had to wait while they reviewed everything - and took breaks and ate lunch I think, and talked at the water cooler about their weekends. But my lady finally pushed the paperwork through and I got to leave with my license. What a relief.

By the time we got home, it was too late to try to get to work for the rest of the day. So I did other things.

This weekend I finally got tired of my hair and hacked it off. My hair has always been very thick, and it was easiest to take care of long. But now it’s thin and puny. It looked like I was heading for a ponytail with 2 hairs.

Yesterday at work everyone told me how nice my hair looked with my new haircut. OK, if you hack your hair off yourself and everyone says it’s an improvement, what does that say about how it looked before?

So this afternoon I went to a haircut place and had my haircut improved. I haven’t been in a haircut place since I was 14 years old. It was fun. And my new stylist, Missy, said I hadn’t done a terrible job myself. I told her to keep it simple this time and maybe next time we can try something more exciting.

When I got home, I had Bob take my picture so you can all see my new haircut. I posed next to the rose that was drop-dead gorgeous until today. Two days over over-100 heat have wiped out the blooms. Now they’re just drop-dead. Then we went inside so he could get a less squinty picture. Please note the spotless house in the background. The cleaning people were here while we were gone. Life is wonderful.


I’ve been scanning photos. As soon as I got the first suitcase emptied, Velcro climbed into it. It was so hot today, Bob and I gave her a bath. And she gave us blood tests. She also put a hole in Bob’s nipple. I offered him an old pierced earring for it, but he declined. Velcro is lovely. I think she’d like a bath if it didn’t involve water.

Hang in There

I haven’t written much lately, but hang in there with me, I’ll get back to it shortly.

I’ve been studying for my driving test on Tuesday. I have to do all 3 - behind the wheel, vision, and written test. Tests are hell for an overachiever. All my life, if 100% was the top score, I’ve wanted 110%. At least.

This even extends to tests that you can’t study for, like blood test results. Although, I’ve found you CAN influence your blood sugar and cholesterol tests just by sticking to the right diet. We’ll talk about that later. The point is, it’s probably a personality flaw that I haven't learned to live with.

I think I’m ready for the driving test, I’ve been practicing. I think I can pass the eye test. My vision has improved over the past year, though, and I’ve been waiting for a new insurance year to go get new glasses. So my driving glasses are a bit strong.

It’s the written test I’m dreading. I’ve lived for the past 20+ years with a dyslexic kid in the house, and it has infected my brain. When I was helping Bob study for his driving test (a 3-year process) I’d read him a question from the sample test and he’d give me reasons why 3 out of 4 answers could be correct. This helped me professionally (I specialize in assessments). I could look at questions on a test I was assembling and tell the developers - this question needs some refinement, it can be interpreted like this... But now I can’t look at a test without seeing multiple possibilities. And the DMV test is not very well written. A question might begin: An oncoming car is making a left turn... at this point Bob would ask “is that the other driver’s left, or my left?”

So I’m trying to read the DMV manual and detoxify myself from dyslexic poisoning at the same time.

In addition, I’m busy with my new scanner.

My goal is to copy the old family photos and get them on DVDs for other members of the family to share. The first step is to go through suitcases full of old prints and negatives and determine what’s worth scanning. All of my photos are kept in suitcases so if there’s an emergency I can just grab them and throw them in the car.

Last night I went through “old horse photos.” For a time in the 60s and 70s I worked for horse publications and took lots of photos. There were at least 20 rolls of 35mm black and white film to go through. Mostly I determined they weren’t worth keeping and I tossed them. I’ll scan a few for the people I know who are still alive, but I’ve eliminated one whole suitcase of crap.

I don’t plan to throw out any pics of relatives, for those of you who are hyperventilating about now. I have some slides my mom took that are marginal, but they have no people in them. They are vacation scenes of unknown places that are blurry, out of focus, over- or underexposed. She was a good photographer with a box camera, but never mastered 35 mm. (In the days before autofocus.)

I’m really looking forward to this project. I’ve been watching the flooding in the midwest and thinking that’s bound to happen here. Brother Jerry lives in forest fire territory, so his house is not much safer in the long run.

My favorite thing to do with photos is not hang them on the wall. I use copies of them as screensavers at work. I love being able to see my favorite people, places, and animals several times during the day.

Hang in there, I’ll start blogging more often again.