When I was a kid my toys were portable...

Paper dolls, comic books, the latest Jack & Jill magazine, my beloved Raggedy Ann doll, crayons, pencils and always, always a Big Chief tablet.

Two books I'd gotten for Christmas were bulky, but very important to me: Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verse, and a Big Book of Stories. Funny but I don't remember now if the stories were classic or fairytales, but I've never been into much fairy lore, but I managed to keep them for a number of years while we chased Mother's dreams around the country.

My major gift that year was the compact silver metal case that carried a gleaming pair of white figure skates. I managed to stuff my growing feet into those beautiful skates for several years, they were so important to me. I had no grace on ice, or speed, but I cherished the freedom of gliding.

I walked the nineteen blocks to Gibson Park to skate on Christmas Day after Mother left the house with her boyfriend Tim. There were more people skating than I'd imagined, but hardly anyone noticed me...many children got skates for Christmas, but I shyly wobbled away to learn on my own shaky ankles. Before the afternoon faded I was able to join a long line of skaters playing Crack the Whip, without falling, although I gathered that pile-ups of people helpless with laughter was about half the goal of that exercise.

It seemed important so I counted 108 falls before it started getting dark. I took the bus home, and got spanked for not telling anyone where I'd gone. I would have thought she'd guess...since I took the shiny case along. She raised me to be independent, yet couldn't bear the idea of letting go, or being left alone, maybe. She never told me what it was we were looking for (or running from) either, but we always traveled light. Everything we needed to start over packed neatly into the back of the 1937 Pontiac coupe Grampie bought for us after Grannie died in 1949. It was a sedate dark green, but eventually Mom painted it a sort of flat primer gray, which was as close as she ever come to her desired gun metal gray sheen. We lived in that car far more than we should have in the ensuing years, but really it was a fine old buggy until 1952 when the Nevada desert proved too much for the old car, and the axles gave out with a clank, a rattle and probably a rusty death moan.

Mother was alone by then; I was living in Idaho with my dad and his wife and son. She didn't get any further than Elko, for nearly a year, and didn't get another car of her own. She and I didn't get back together until 1955. By then the only thing I had left from those Gypsy years was Raggedy Ann.

Long month...

I had a birthday getaway...a cardiac event...automobile expense for the Behemer that depleted our bank account like a bad dog...and hmm, MSN is up to new trickery, with no treats attached. AND the US economy tanked. A sucky, scary month indeed. I can't understand how gas prices keep coming down but I'm at least enjoying that for however long it will last.

The ambulance/hospital bills have started rolling in, and we've had to turn the furnace on, despite the moderately nice days we're having. As happy an event as payday will be, I'm not looking forward to my next visit to the Quack. I have felt the tug of a thread tightening up and he's never been any comfort to me so far.

Anyway I opened a Yahoo group... http://groups.yahoo.com/group/craicer_bits/ and another kind of stupid one I don't even want to post about until I know more about the site.

So, I'M NOT THE ONE WHO'S LOST

Fascinating old structure

I just love this derelict building. I've heard it was a church or a school; it sits on a little knoll just off the highway to St. Maries. I finally had the time to stop and get some photos of it on my last smoke run.

I found this on the Emigrant Ireland board...

Finally, a voice against the clueless, classless hockey mom. HIGH TIME TOO!! I'm off today to register to vote, even if my vote turns out to be meaningless.

Legends of Fall...

One of my all time favorite songs; of course nobody ever sang it better than Sinatra, but this vid has the colorful slide show, and a couple of greats who don't do a bad job.



It's grey and blustery and pretty cool here today. Trees leaning with the wind, but it hasn't snapped cold enough to really drop the leaves yet. It won't be long now though. The leaves that have come down are quivering and flipping about on the green lawn.

A nice pot of Autumn Soup might make a good dinner. It's made with hamburger and whatever veg you have on hand, with a tomato base. I have a bunch of assorted veggies that need to get eaten, so the menu is set...maybe I'll make biscuits ...er...DUMPLINGS might be better.

A friend called yesterday... has a beef heart and some fresh liver for me...a friend of hers butchered the other day; I'll pick that up tonight. It's a good thing I have food on my mind or I'd have forgotten. We LOVE liver n' onions n' bacon...fortunately we don't get to eat it often, as it's not on Himself's dietary DO list, but if once a year is too often, what's the point of living at all.

We're probably going to miss the debate, as it's pool league practice...there's plenty of time to throw the soup together before we leave for that...and it will be a nice warm welcome home. I know who I want to win the election so it doesn't much matter what either of them say now. It would take a bombshell to change my mind at this stage.

The saddest thing to me is the number of people who are gullible enough to vote for Sarahcuda.
ARGHHH there I go...spoiling a perfectly good mood.

Edited at noon:02 to add:

Neighbor Jack just brought me an oversized lattice top crusted Apple Pie from his weekly visit to Costco in town! He's always bringing some caloric treat over...sweet man that he is...

Apple pie is my favorite pastry...and I happen to have some very good French Vanilla ice cream in the freezer too. WOW, it's gonna be a real harvest feast tonight. I don't know why we bothered to go to MT for an overpriced, undercooked meal, ...I'm a far better cook than we found over there, and I can do it a helluva a lot cheaper and for sure better tasting, especially when a friend furnishes the dessert! LOL

Forward Thinking....yeah baby, tha's the ticket...

One might say that having something to look forward to is a big key to happiness...

Uhh, that would be my philosophy I suppose. Without a vision on the horizon I find it pointless to get out of the bed that only wants to be made, even as one slugs down the first cup of coffee.

There's always something that needs getting done, no matter who ye are, and it's usually some drudge job that I find ways to put off. I find drudge work boring and plodding. Which is why I love almost anything that smacks of extra-ordinary and gets me OUTTA tha' mundane RUT. For instance I adore my dishwasher, and my car, simply because they make drudge work easier.

Still,getting away from the house is my favorite thing to do. Which is why this very morning I called over to Quinn's, in Paradise, Montana and booked a short getaway.

They have remodelled and upgraded the resort since our last visit. They're only an hour away, and by golly it's been six years since we were there last. The senior discount works out great for the budget, and bigod I'm worth the small expense.

My whole mood has lifted now that there's something different waiting just up the road. A hot soak, mountain air, a rustic bar and BIG SKY...a fitting conclusion to a relatively ordinary summer. Three trips to Montana in one year...who'd a thunk it possible?

Local news: Just another day in Paradise....

Sterling Mines shuts down the Sunshine operation

Yesterday we pulled the Beemer into the local parking lot the same time as a new Hummer pulled in. The two vehicles added a little classy look to the empty parking lot of the old bar.

We were already being served when the three men and a woman entered and sat at the corner end of the bar near us. Himself knew one of the men and they exchanged hellos and a handshake.

It became clear that Happy Hour would be a little less jovial when we learned that most of the patrons in the place had just got their walking papers from the promising new mining company, after a surprisingly short span of operation.

Of the four closest to us only the woman still had her job for the moment...women underground is pretty commonplace here now, but her husband had worked his last shift. The $85K Hummer was their car. Sterling Mines paid very well and apparently the generous production bonuses hadn't hurt this couple either. He appeared nonchalant about the layoff...well respected miners can be selective about where they want to work and he wasn't worried about getting on anywhere, except for the fact that they own a home here and the wife is not free to take her son from a previous marriage out of state; following him as he tramp mined around the country was not an option.

The Sunshine didn't run out of silver, from what I understood of the conversation...the company ran out of money to operate. It wasn't a huge operation, but in a small area like here, it may just be the beginning of a bust that could really impact the whole Valley...just as it has in the past. Hopefully it was just bad management by one outfit, and not the portent of a domino effect from the numerous mining outfits.

During the roughly two hours we were there I never heard one utterance of anything remotely akin to politics or politicians. The talk was mostly about who is hiring in the Northwest, and much gratitude that hunting season is looming within days now.

Today the sun rose and graced us with yet another summery day. Autumn is forecast to arrive right on schedule next week.

Tomorrow I'll take a drive south to St. Maries. Must remember to take the camera.

Christonabike...

I just heard on the news that as many as 16% of Hillary's supporters have jumped over to the McCain camp because of that ditz from Alaska. Who might these Barbies be I wonder...a battalion of Stepford wannabes? Zealots looking for a speaker of a kicky language they hope to master? Gawd, most women make me nauseous, and this flip flop attitude on parade is a good reason why.

I'm a Libra and accustomed to difficulty in balancing out what works for me, but once I committed to being Hill's Angel...and she saw fit to throw her support to Obama in the interest of Party unity, I never had a thought to change Party, for Christssake. Especially not on the account of McCain's decision to weigh anchor and set sail with a nobody aboard, in some desperate attempt to woo the Christian Right...whoever THEY are.

I can't say a lot about her...there's nothing to say. She's a married woman with kids, who shows no sign of slowing that down. Her education record is ludicrous...her demeanor is phoney, her voice is irritating as hell. And she has no pores. Women with no pores do not belong in office. She might be the best damn thing that ever happened to Alaska...she should stay there and be that thing, and all the women who would follow her should go to Alaska, and let her govern them for awhile. Make Alaska a 'refuge state' worth going to, when the time comes to freeze yer ass off to "survive" the whatever.

Arghh the topic has made my sinuses bleed. Sorry I brought it up.

When the going gets tough...

the Poor & Obscure go shopping.

That's Himself's credo...I think.

Yesterday when he came in from work a few minutes later than usual I didn't think much of it until he asked if I wanted to go with him to the town directly west of us, a matter of about three miles, from whence he had just come. I assumed he'd found a yard sale that needed my perusal. But when I asked where we were going as we climbed in his car he sheepishly replied, "Well, remember that car I told you I've been watching...I bought it, WAY cheaper than the asking price."

I should have known this was coming. It doesn't matter to me what he buys as a rule; he rat holes his money, the same as I do, for spending on toys, trips or needful things down the road. He's a mechanic and knows a bargain, so if he found a BMW that was worth anything it was no surprise to me. Cars, trucks, vans, boats, boat motors and riding lawn mowers follow him home regularly. I call them lawn ornaments these days, mostly. The economy has slowed down the ambition of most people to buy anything that runs on gasoline, so we have a lot of 'toys' bought on spec, sitting around the driveway.

Anyway he is now the proud owner of a 1986 Beemer, 325E Coupe, with a sunroof. It seems to run quiet and smooth, has GOOD rubber all round, and a nice stereo. He says the A/C is very efficient. Ahem, the clock works too. So...another vehicle joins the our little motor pool.

In his unnecessary defense he remarked, "I got it WAY below the book price...and I talked the guy down $300 from his asking price." He is also documented as the third owner of this particular car. It really doesn't take much to please him.

He could have worse habits, eh...

Returned from Montana...

Ahhhh...it was good. Seeking "Fort Benton" brought about this vid/music...rousing hell raiser tune that always tickles me to hear. Not all the shots are from Montana, but that don't make it a bad thang...*S*

The miles of golden fields surrounding Fort Benton were wonderful to see as I drove home Sunday...the landscape stretches out forever, with nothing but blue sky keeping it down. A lot of people might think it monotonous driving, but it just makes me feel GREAT to be there, alive to see it.

Mostly I listen to my Celtic flavour music on long drives, but I did tune in to a couple clear stations that gave me some Western/country twang. They were playing the hell out of a tune by some gal I don't know...



I was appropriately tired upon arrival home...it's only 325 miles, but there was a lot more traffic as people tried to cram in one last day of summer fun before school and work life beckons. Drivers are being more cautious I think...I know I have slowed down a lot to conserve fuel, and it helps to just dawdle along at 55 or 65 mph...a lot less stressful than keeping the pedal to the metal in the futile attempt to 'get there quicker'. By using the cruise at slower speed I can pull over 400 miles out of one tank of gas...so except for pit stops I never needed to stop for anything at the gas pump.

Weather here has definitely turned autumnal...it rained HARD last night and was chilly this morning. Only 63 F out right now, but it's comfortable enough. I did sleep in comfy lightweight sweats last night though.

Have 3 tomatoes from the barrel planter for salad tonight; won't be many days before I'll have to make a newspaper tent to keep the plant from frost...and there are LOTS of 'matoes still struggling to ripen on the vine. I'm pleased with the tiny harvest.

RIP and Slán Abhaile, Ronnie

Lost Weekend...musing for Monday...

Sometimes days, even entire weekends are pretty forgettable around here. Sundays and Mondays are generally a waste because nothing much goes on and many businesses just shut down. We didn’t go out on Friday, for a change we missed Happy Hour at the local, since I had something planned for dinner.

Saturday we got an earlier start as it was Pinehurst Days AND the Comancheros Car Show, which is always a pleasant experience for Himself. In my case not quite so much enthusiasm, but I needed to return an item to the Thrift store we like to shop and it was a big sale day for them, with tourists and locals alike out for a day of dawdle-gawking at the 150+ vintage/restored/custom cars lining every available space in the village. The weather was perfect…hot, cloudless, just breezy enough to navigate through the moderate crowd in comfort.

While Himself browsed the cars, I went shopping and picked up a few good deals. After finding him we packed my haul in the trunk and meandered around until I got tired and thirsty and we headed to the old locals…to barhop a bit before the drag races and burnout, scheduled for later in the afternoon.

At the King’s Inn we ran into friend Jackie and her husband, who had some things saved up for us at her house across the way in Kingston proper, so we agreed to go over to Tor’s where I would stay and socialize while Himself went to the noisy, crowded finale to the car show. I can’t sit still in the sun for that kind of racket, even on my best days. Air conditioned bars are my venue.

Jackie brought me a sackful of excess nebulizer solution that was piling up at her house. There are several of us who use it, and a kind of network of sharing has developed because some of us have to pay for it, while others get the cartons of it free.

As we chatted the afternoon away I learned that Jackie and her man had divorced, some years ago in fact…to facilitate his considerable medical care expenses. I’ve been aware that this practice of divorce has become more common for elders at wit’s end how to survive the American health care fiasco, but DAMN…that doesn’t make it right.

Now we are personally acquainted with four couples in long-term relationships (a combined total of 110 years!) whose marriages have been set asunder solely to survive this bullshit economic crisis. Educated, hard working couples whose only mistake was getting ill BEFORE becoming millionaires, and not dying straightaway as a result; what’s up with that?

Jackie told me they were so stupid about what was happening to them they panicked and hired a lawyer to handle the divorce procedure, costing them $600, back in the day when that was REAL money to most people. They were unaware of the divorce-kits available to the savvy DIY folk at the time. My self employed, logger brother-in-law and his wife used that cheaper option, and at the time even that lesser expense was a hardship on them. Now the BIL is unable to work, as his former wife requires constant attendance for dialysis. Her care has cost well in excess of a million, but her health regime is state dictated.

Another couple we know divorced so the wife could get cancer treatment. The husband went to work in the Nevada mines, they sold their home, and he moved on, while she bought a manufactured home in a cheaper neighborhood. Fortunately she had widow’s benefits from her first husband, or she’d be a bag lady today.

I don’t know of any other solution to this bizarre phenomenon. I just think it really stinks. I’ve never particularly been crazy about matrimony, even though I’ve been married continuously (to one man or another) for 52 years. The idea of HAVING to go single to survive is abhorrent.

A marriage license means absolutely nothing, except to prove you once thought you could afford it. How many couples frame and display the thing? Mine is filed under Legal…along with my passport! Has anybody ever filed it under Assets? Pffft.

Welcome to the Golden Years Pool kids…the water’s frigid and shocking, but as more people jump in the chill might become bearable, IF you’re wearing a money belt.

End of rant for Monday.

Ruminating has depressed me so much I've booked a room in Fort Benton for three days, later this month. There's more than one way to get over disturbing thoughts...I just wish I had disposable capital to indulge in my escapism. Yeehawwww...goin' to Montany.....hot damn.

Meanwhile the wee Mister emailed me HIS latest flight of fancy... hmmm

Pinehurst Days...Comancheros Car Show

It was a gorgeous day for car buffs in the wee village of Pinehurst, in the heart of the Silver Valley of Idaho. Hundreds of carefully restored cars and thousands of people, strolling up and down the main thoroughfare in admiration.

Old cars, new cars, buffed and polished for the show. Lemonade and Italian ice vendors did a brisk business as the heat of our dog day afternoon radiated from the pavement.


This lovely reminder of yesteryear led a small parade of Studebakers on a cruise through town, steered proudly by an elegant, silver-haired woman. She looked grand, and her beautiful car purred like a pampered cat.
SMOOTH!

Another weekend half gone...

The nights are definitely cooler, and getting longer by the minute each day. Weather predicted to be hotting up all this coming week though, so we've still got plenty of summer left, even as I'm having to find warmer jammies to sleep in.

Today we hit a few yard and estate sales. Happy to pick up a second air purifier for a couple bucks. Himself used his compressor to clean up the HEPA filter, and has it in his bedroom now I think. May help his breathing/sleeping this winter. I also bought a bunch of larger planters for a fiver...about $50 worth...a real coup. I will use some of them to plant veggies in next year, if we're still here. There is one very artsy looking planter/saucer I'll repot my shamrock in, as the old pot is really past its prime. The shammies will appreciate the attention I'm sure. There is also one massive decorative terracotta pot that is very attractive. I'll use it for some pretty outdoor plant next year. The large pots are so pricey new, and it seems nobody turns them loose until they die. The two estate sales we went to today were across the street from each other...a widow and her neighbor, an old widower had recently passed away at the same time I guess. They were related somehow so the families got together for a joint sale. The woman had collected antiques and there was an outbuilding expressly used to display her stuffed animal collection and countless other knicknacks. I bought a glass bird there and gazed on the large array of Teddy bears. Probably several thousand dollars worth, all brand, spanking new, untouched by a child's hand. It made me rather sad.

I wonder at the point of gathering all those things over a lifetime. Do the collectors believe that a relative will treasure them...perhaps pass them down? I can't count the estate sales I've gone to where the descendents can't WAIT to get shed of their familial obligation to peddle off grandma's beloved china, silver, glassware and 'miscellaneous junque'. The only thing the relatives stubbornly cling to it seems, is real estate and grandma's good jewelry.

On the other side of the street the old man's considerable horde of "boy toys" brought out the bargain hunters by the carload. Himself picked up numerous items he wants for his collection of dusty ol' junk, before we both left happy. I suppose it won't be long before we see 'For Sale' signs on the lawns of both houses.

Estate sales are depressing to me as a rule. I like the sales where the folks just decide to try and make a little money off the crap they bought at sales and found they really didn't need. I get a particular kick out of seeing something for sale that I used to own. It makes me giggle when I see something I KNOW the value of because I bought it once myself, and know what I sold it for at the end of its usefulness to me. It doesn't happen often, but it's always a laugh.

Once in a local shop here I saw two brown pottery glasses, fashioned like carved Polynesian warrior shields. They were advertised as antiques ("perhaps Aztec?") GAWD...we had got them in Sparks, Nevada at Trader Dick's in John Ascuaga's Nugget in the late 70's; I wound up using the souvenir glasses as containers for forcing avocado seeds to sprout! The lime deposit from years of use was clearly etched on the inner rim of both vessels, yet here was a retailer palming them off as valuable items worth as I recall, $7.50 apiece! I had sold them for a quarter each...after getting them free for buying some dopey drink in a casino bar. I nearly lost my composure that day.

Anyway...not much excitement to report. Other than that the DHL people who were to deliver my new Dell Laptop apparently have lost said machine. The mouse came last Tuesday while I was gone from the house, and I assumed the laptop would arrive the next day after I checked the tracking number on the computer site. When it didn't come a call went to the DHL folks, who are at a loss to explain what could have happened. The package arrived in Spokane, and from there they don't know whatever could have befallen the thing. I was told today they will call me on Monday. We'll be in 'town' that day at the VA clinic for Himself's latest checkup. Tuesday I'll be going south on a cigarette run.

I'm off to snuggle under my feather duvet. It's 52F, and my legs are getting cold.

Sighhh.

Gone...

A man I barely knew died suddenly at his home in Dublin on 12 July. He was the father of my two dearest friends, Willie W., Tallaght and his sister Joan M., of Luton, England. I met the three of them in person in 2003 for the first time. Tom, the Da was such a spirited old man, I'll never forget him, and always regret not getting to know him better. He lived a long time, and much of his life was a struggle, but his eyes fairly twinkled with Irish humour. Last night I lifted a pint for him. I'm glad he didn't linger past 81...he wasn't the kind of man who would have suffered being an invalid. Slan Abhaile Tom.

Meanwhile my favorite member of the Gang of Five has apparently fled the homestead. Blondel, the Golden-eyed Ginger Prince of Troubadours was last seen strolling in the yard on Saturday the 12th, when we left the house to go yard saling. We were home well before dusk, and Blondel has not returned. The other cats know that he's gone; their behavior is different. We drove round the neighborhood, and I've called out for Blondel at all intervals, to no avail. We've seen no sign of said feline...flattened or otherwise. He was not one to roam about, despite his name. He would always come home at night, and usually curl up next to my shoulder in the bed.
Something may have frightened him off...and he may still come home...but I'm afraid that's wishful thinking. He had the best personality of the bunch, and I miss him a LOT.

Here's an old Petula Clark song...a favorite of mine allll these years, though I can no longer hit the notes like I used to... Cat in the Window

It's a hazy day, with not much sun and very little breeze. The lawn is very dry so I'll risk turning the water on it this afternoon and hope to not get in trouble with the laird of the park...I can never remember if we're the odd or even day water schedule.

My new Dell laptop is floating about someplace between here and Spokane. The ruby red mouse was delivered yesterday while I was away...but the laptop needs a signature I guess, so I may not get the new toy until Friday...or later...I'm scheduled to be gone that day too, dammitall.

On other fronts...the quack wrote me a scrip for some cholesterol lowering poison...with side effects like Cirrhosis of the LIVER... I paid for the pills but after reading the literature I think I'll opt for other measures. I've got enough wrong with me as it is...I don't need a ruined liver.

On this pill one is not to drink or eat grapefruit!!! WHY you ask...well it seems that large amounts of grapefruit juice make the pills work TOO quickly.....hmmm???? WTF...wouldn't that be a good thing....to drop cholesterol like a ROCK??? Anyhow...I think I'll try a fish oil pills and grapefruit diet. I doubt seriously if either one will kill me. I'll try to lower the goddam cholesterol on my own, thankyouveddymuch. The "practice" of medicine just fucking boggles my mind.

On a happier note I see a few little green tomatoes popping out on my one Bush Early Girl plant. There are a LOT of hopeful looking yellow blossoms, so maybe we'll get a small crop of salad fixin's, if I can keep the plant contented. Fingers crossed.

Today's events...

Not a lot going on, really. Much cooler this morning, with less gusty winds and smoke from the fires over in Washington. I got dressed and went yard saling in the afternoon, but didn't find a lot I couldn't live without so I spent $3.75 on some French Ribbon, a good hole punch, a windchime I liked the tinkle of, a stoneware vase complete with a silk flower bouquet. and a set of sheets and pillowcases. Oh and a beautifully handcrafted large candle holder made of multicolored leaded glass panels. It will be pretty with a big ol' candle when we lose power.

We went to happy hour for a couple drinks and came home. Made BLTs on croissants for supper and eventually put in a VHF video tape I'd never seen. Play it to the Bone, with Antonio Banderas and Woody Harrelson. A love story of two second rate boxers and their last chance at a title shot. It was better than I expected, and I expected it to be good. In the opening shots I found my newest favorite song, Here's to Life... I'm sorry I don't sing as well as I once did...this would be my theme song.

I went to Montana too early maybe; the weather was gorgeous and the mosquitoes weren't all that terrible, but in checking the Fort Benton Chamber of Commerce events calendar this morning, I see that there's a Peddler's Fair upcoming on July 19th...I would LOVE to attend. They also have a weekly Farmer's Market on Thursday afternoon's...I'm sure that would be fun to stroll through along the levee. I really enjoy events that involve local people doing their thing.

Which is certainly not to imply that I didn't have a super time on my solitary sojourn in June. I love going back to Montana, for any length of time, especially in the good weather months. I'm a fair weather traveller anymore. Winter is nothing more than a test of survival and sanity for me, so I know I couldn't actually LIVE in my homeland. Gawd knows it's bad enough suffering Idaho winters. I couldn't do it without the help of Himself to do all the driving, and most of the heavy drudge work entailed with winter months. I do well enough shovelling a small section of our entry way, but it's actually difficult for me to even get dressed after the snow flies. The season enshrouds me to a point where I'd make a good mole I suppose...or a forgotten turnip in a moldy root cellar.

Anyway, I got up early and loaded up the car after a quick shower. Himself was still home the day I left for Montana, so we had coffee together and double checked all the things I might be forgetting. I left him a tentative list of where I'd be, kissed him goodbye and pointed the car in the direction of the sun, which hadn't quite poked over the horizon yet. I wanted to be beyond the Montana border before the rising sun blinded me.

Half an hour later I was looking at Big Sky, breathing Montana air. The border is only 30 easy miles from our house, and I was cooking up the road, just getting to know the feel of the Cutlass. By the time I bypassed Missoula I'd found a stride that was comfortable, and easily slid into my travel mood. Miles didn't matter, and neither did being alone under the wide Montana sky. Whatever cares I had were left behind me, and I had a week of absolute freedom ahead. No coffee to make, meals to prepare, cats to clean up after, and no one to answer to for any damn thing I chose to do. How much more perfect could it get. Every woman ought to try a little solitude, and I was long overdue.

The lack of traffic on the Interstate surprised me a little, but the price of gas explained a lot; after I turned off I-90 toward Lincoln there were even fewer cars. I was delighted. The CD player was playing my favorite Celtic Chill album and I tootled along in my own cocoon like I knew where I was going. I stopped once before I reached Lincoln to take a couple pictures.

The silence and the cloudless sky were brilliant.

In Lincoln I stopped at a cafe and had coffee, some sausage and hashbrowns before topping off the gas tank at the shocking price of $4.10 a gallon! My first mistake was not gas-ing up in Missoula where petrol was still under $4.00, but my fuel tank wasn't all that thirsty. I just wasn't sure what kind of mileage the Cutlass would get on a trip of this nature, or how long it would be before I hit another town where choices were not limited to one station. I had nearly 200 virgin miles to cover and one thing I needed to know for sure was that I wouldn't be running out of gas on some forlorn prairie.

Efficiently I wrote down the mileage and tucked the gas receipt in my notebook and hit the trail again. Next stop, Augusta.

Simply lush and lovely music...

1. Today was warm and breezy, not hot enough to paralyze the legs off me, so I started some laundry and did a bit of drudge stuff before I sat down to surf. There's a new album I'd heard of from Tara Music (a fine place for lovers of Celtic/Irish music BTW), but I couldn't find adequate information about it at first so the Wildlife Album caught my fancy. Just a few clips convinced me I should seek out the first and second discs of this interesting work, which I'd never heard of before. Well well well, was I ever so pleased to find both CDs for sale in iTunes.. TA DAH...I spent most of the rest of the day listening to my latest acquisitions. Can't express how chuffed I am. It's exactly the kind of music I love to listen to while driving...and the price was right. Hopefully some of the profit will make it to the Wildlife charities that sparked the idea for these musical treasures. If it helps at all it will be worth it.
   
   This song is on one of the albums, but a more professionally recorded version is proffered.
   
   
   
   Note to my lovely girls... I have burnt a copy of the compilation for you...one disc for each...to share or use as drink coasters...whatever...watch for 'em...
   
   I see Himself is home so I must need go and look busy...

All I can say at the moment is I miss Ft. Benton

http://216.146.101.47/view/view.shtml

Tiny Travelogue...

A good place to look for dead rellies and explore the past if you have Montana roots is here if your people centered anywhere near Missouri. Ft. Benton is called the Birthplace of Montana, since so many immigrants came up the Missouri River by boat. It's a charming little farm town on the bank for the Missouri River. Most of the town is on the National Historic Register.


Apparently I visited at exactly the right point in time...I noticed it's 91.4 degrees in Fort Benton this morning...with NO air movement that's a wee bit too warm for my taste, but the three days I spent there this past week were absolutely splendid. The town has optimized grant money and historic status to make it a treasury of the past for anyone interested in exploring bygone days. Better yet the whole town is navigable on foot.


Even as interested as I was I missed the Interpretive Center, but I managed to soak up most of the museums and the library. The fee to cover entry to everything on offer is only $10...and covers 2 days worth. I stayed over an extra day, and still missed a lot.



When I toured the fort remains I was the only visitor, so really got the personal touch from the guide. It took two hours, and I was ready for lunch afterward. Bob's in the middle of town had Montana pot roast by the platter full, so I had a sumptuous lunch and made a sandwich of the leftovers to serve as my dinner. $10. The next day's lunch I ate fish n' chips at the Freeze (soft ice cream stand at the edge of the Ft ground park). $6.00. I sat on the grassy bank of the Missouri between the statue of Lewis & Clark and Sacajawea, and the Keelboat Mandan. The Mandan is a replica that was used in one of my favorite films of all time... The Big Sky...I took more pics of the Mandan than anything else.


THE place to stay in Fort Benton is the Grand Union, at the opposite end of the little town. I get their newsletter and knew it was too rich for my wallet, so was delighted to find the Pioneer Lodge...where rooms are roughly half the tariff at the Union.



During my stay in town I learned there is a nasty little rivalry between the two hotels...it's quiet, but common knowledge none the less. Personally I found the Pioneer Lodge perfect for my simple needs, and the owners bent over backwards to ensure my comfort. Winnie Appleby even had a cold beer in her fridge for my comp beverage...THAT was a first and welcome experience for me!


Being lucky enough to have a rich heritage wasn't enough...the first bar I visited, I stepped out of the car and found what I thought was a $5 bill that dropped from my pocket....I scooped it up and later found out it was $30 folded neatly...paid for all my food...thanks to whomever dropped it...hope it didn't ruin your holiday.

Best of all, I got 28.9 mpg for the nearly 800 mile trip...not bad at'all for the sporty old Cutlass SL.

I found almost everything I went to Montana for in the first place, and it was a great five day getaway. The weather was grand, and there weren't a bazillion tourists dawdle-gawking along. As a Solitary who shuns crowds this meant a lot to my comfort. It gave me all the time I wanted for my own dawdle-gawking. It was a super holiday, and it was very hard to come back.

Worst Day Since Yesterday...

I should loop the hang gliding video to play continuously in my head for awhile...like anti-depressant therapy~~~

The price of gas, Hillary's defeat and concession, Big Brown's pathetic bid for the Triple Crown, Himself's ever present crappy-stinks attitude of late, and the constantly dismal weather are teamed against my enthusiasm for life in general. Consequently there's a gloomy blue cloud over my parade...everything seems so pointless...if it weren't for a backache from hell it was difficult to roll out of bed this morning....

Times like these...every melancholy tone or sight causes a swell of slow rolling, silent tears to blot away, a trickle at a time. The world seems very empty indeed.







I have liked this song for decades...but was introduced to it by singer/composer Anne Phillips on her recording Born to be Blue. Click on her name to hear her version...and other heart wrenching blues music from that album. Click the recording title to view and listen AT her website...it's soo nice...

Himself went to the store for a few grocery items...including milk...we buy 2 gallons at a time...usually freeze one, but today the box containing the gallons slipped out of his hands and crashed to the floor...causing one gallon to explode...ALL over the kitchen and myself...so I'm off to shower and change out of my comfy lounge clothing.

Truly it's been The Worst Day Since Yesterday but I didn't cry over the spilt milk!!!

A BRIGHT spot in my day...

I just adore this commercial...

http://www.glossyinc.com/sticksstones/birds.html

Ahh well...we tried...

to put a woman in charge of the White House. Looks like her name will be Michelle, but somehow First Lady doesn't have the same ring to it as Madame President.

I'm not heartbroken, but it's a pretty somber day in my head. There's just something about Obama that bothers the hell out of me...maybe it's the fact that he immediately designated a committee to vet his running mate......will we be governed by endless committees?
Anyway...I have my Hillary bumper sticker to put away among my pathetic souvenirs; I'm glad I only taped it to my car window. She's the only politician I've ever donated money to...in hope.

Other than that, I need to get gas today...before it hits $4.00 a gallon. Jaysus will it never end.

Yesterday I bought an album, Tor, by Goat's Don't Shave...an old Irish group that folded in the late '80's. Like it a lot...nice ballads...not a lot of hornpipes and jiggy noise. They only did 3 albums so far as I know; I may buy one other of them before I'm through, or just select favorites from each. I just love having iTunes I've downloaded nearly 15 hours of music of all genres, and most of it was free tunes, though I have bought some great albums. Can't even beat the price on eBay. I see now they even have movies to rent. Must check that out...though I'm pretty happy with Netflix.

note to firstborn: Package will be going out today...

Last day of May...

It was quite a nice day, after the power company got around to fixing the power failure that happened in the middle of the night...I called them at 1:30 a.m., and they finally got a round tuit by about 9:30 a.m. We had a quick breakfast and our landlord came to measure our bathroom for a better tub/shower assembly than is installed at present. The sun was shining so we went yard saling, but didn't find much we really needed. I bought a little thing I thought my first born might like; perhaps she'll read this and let me know whether or not to send it...


Himself did yard work...he got our riding mower and the weed eater running, so he was a busy boy all afternoon, while I mostly loafed around at the computer. He wasn't kind to me yesterday, so I couldn't be arsed to be very friendly to him today. But I did make some very good roastie beastie Croissandwichs for lunch...and a lovely salad for dinner.

My friend Lonesome Polecat did a nostalgic blog post about "The Honeymooners", which got me thinking about the Jackie Gleason Show; where one of my all time favorite songs was played every week. I couldn't find the show version of it on YouTube, but Ella Fitzgerald does a wonderful vocal job on the song...there is also one other nice instrumental version available on the Tube...but...I like Ella's version better than that one...oddly enough.




The blood pressure seems to have stabilized enough that I'm feeling much better than last week, so I'm back to planning the trip to Montana, the tomato plant and zucchini seem to have settled in for the growing season, and the hummingbirds are still here enjoying their two nectar "lounges". So...all's right with the world as I know it for the moment at least.

Another holiday behind us...

And nearly a half-year gone...it's been a hard one so far too; not a lot of fun with the winter hanging on so long, and spring being so capricious and just plain ornery. April was the sick month, even as the days warmed and the sun became more agreeable. First the flu which hung around like annoying relatives; then malevolent colds and sinus infections. Jaysus it was tiresome. Wore us both out, and now my blood pressure has gone wild on me, just as I'm trying to get some stamina back in time for a little getaway I planned for June.

Right now I'm just trying to take it very easy, staying alive to make it to my Quacks office this coming Thursday. The thought of cardiologists, tests and having to give up what little pleasure I take from life is really bothering me. I'm not ready for long rehab...neither am I ready for a massive stroke. Every twinge is another heavy handed portent of gloom and doom. What crap.

Well, I planted a little bush tomato plant...and a zucchini...and hung another Hummingbird feeder near my office window. I've only seen one of the little birds at the fresh nectar so far...maybe if I can hang some flowering plant below the feeder they might be further enticed...

There's so many silly little things that make life bearable...the heady perfume of lilacs...uncouth gangs of laughing dandelions...double rainbows after a thunder shower. Ahhh goodnight.

Health matters and denial...

I can't afford to be sick...and neither can anybody else unless they've been clever planners all their lives.

Health care has never been better for the affluent, or worse for the poor and obscure (elders), than it is these days. My own country GP charges $70 for an office visit...and he rarely ever lays a well manicured paw on his patients for any reason other than an outpatient surgical procedure. I've been seeing him for about seven years, and he used a stethoscope on me once, removed a suspicious mole once, and once he looked in my ears when I had a massive ear infection. Definitely not your touchy-hands-on healer.

Fine with me actually; I don't like anyone touching me anyhow, so long as he's agreeable with MY assessment of what's wrong and what's needed to fix a problem I might have, we've gotten along fine. But I wouldn't go to him for an emergency.

Unfortunately in my advanced years high blood pressure has become an issue, and he wants to try some cholesterol lowering drug. I wouldn't mind except that I know they are experimental at best, dangerous for many, and expensive as hell for those of us who can least afford it.

For years I've taken a generic beta blocker to keep my blood pressure in line. It's been effective and really cheap; even paying for it without insurance coverage only cost $13.00 a month before I went on Medicare. With Medicare...which I pay over $90.00 a month from my Social Security to maintain, and the part D drug supplementary "insurance" which costs $9.00 a month, my trusty pill now costs $26.00 a month...for which I co-pay $2.50 out-of-pocket at the pharmacy. Thank heavens I have a husband with a job. I would not survive if I wasn't a dependent.

If it sounds like I'm bitching, it's because I am. Even though so far I'm one of the lucky old raisins, with no reason to complain. What about the thousands of seniors, especially women who never had a career or a financial plan, kids to take care of them or even a husband in so many cases. What happens to these poor hapless masses?

I hope I'll be tough enough to just take what comes with however many tomorrows I have left with quiet grace...hope death comes quickly, while I'm sleeping perhaps. But y'know it never quite works out like we'd like.

Something lovely and sad...

Viva Mexico

We've come down with rotten colds here, again. The weather is muggy and grey and we're stuck home sucking chicken soup, feeling drained and useless from OTC cold meds.

The yahoos who live here don't celebrate anything that's not red, white, and blue anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter that we're not going anywhere today. But I DO like Mexican music, and Mexicans in general. Only one I have no empathy or affection for anymore...and we've been divorced for more than 30 years...LOL, so doesn't really count.

Anyway I found this neat video...

Today is Ella's birthday...

Ella Fitzgerald died in 1996 ... and her voice is still remembered as one of the best in the business

Just a tune I found...never heard before

And a song that haunts me.

Not your ordinary hangover...

...by a long shot.

Perhaps it's just been intestinal flu for the past WEEK

Last Friday I felt energetic enough to make a nice shrimp and macaroni salad for the pool league party; proud as punch that I wouldn't have to rise at dawn Saturday morning to get things done and delivered by noon. After Himself got home from work we went out for our usual round of socializing, and were home early, albeit with snoots full, there was no reason to suspect anything would spoil the weekend.

Saturday started at 8 a.m., and I blamed my light headiness on the lingering effects of drink from the night before, but we were dressed and gone and arrived at the old local with plenty of time to spare. I was relegated to taking names and monies for the tournament that culminated our league season. My least enjoyable task, as secretary of the league the members mistakenly think I know their names and/or faces...and it's simply not true. Most of them are as forgettable as cold porridge, but I DID do better this year than last.

I felt worse and worse as the day progressed, but had no interest in ingesting food, which there was, in abundance. Usually if I'm suffering a hangover I can and do eat everything I can get my maw around. By the time we left just before dark I knew I was coming down with something...I hadn't even felt like drinking all day long...a definite sign of peculiarities within. We brought home a huge platter of food I'd ignored, and it all wound up getting thrown away after sitting untouched for two days

So, the upshot of it all has been a week of chills, fever, fitful sleep, inability to eat, diarrhoea, and general malaise. Neither cold nor flu meds, nor juices, teas, weak broth nor gingerale have had any soothing effect...Maalox helped a little, but I'm still queasy about food. I'm beginning to think it might be the start of an ulcer, or jaysus, stomach cancer, who knows. Nothing is bleeding though, and I AM on the mend, so perhaps it's just some internal bug waltzing me around. Still don't have much of an appetite, but have enjoyed a couple beers, and finally felt like having a smoke and watching a bit of tv.

The Gang of Five have been almost spooky during all this...they snuggled around me in a solicitous, comforting manner, scrutinizing me with somber eyes as I dozed on the couch or the bed. Gotta love cats. Even Himself's big boy Salty has curled up as the foot of my bed for the duration.

I may even dress and venture out for some grocery shopping. I think yogurt or cottage cheese might taste good. The weather isn't terrible...finally!

We watched No Country for Old Men the other night. How many ways are there for a drug deal to go BAD....I will probably have to read McCarthy's book. His prose is just lyrical to me. I adore Tommy Lee Jones, and Woody Harrelson; Javier Bardem was new to me...but man is he ever a STUNNING performer...no pun intended.

Bitchen’ From the Kitchen…

Here’s the deal…I’ve saved and saved for a trip abroad since 2003, upon my last return from Ireland. The money hasn’t mounted up with any regularly or volume because I’m living on Social Security and only picking up occasional pin money doing a bit of data entry a few times a year. I’ve kept alerts coming into my inbox reflecting economical fares since then.

What I want to do is visit my friends in England for a few days, and move on to explore just a bit of Wales and maybe Scotland before taking the ferry to Ireland for one last look at the Emerald Isle before I shrug off the mortal coil. Not a lot to ask, especially since I’m the cheapest skate to ever come out of Idaho…travel on a shoestring is a huge overstatement. My travel thread is far more slender than that.

In the past when I’ve gone to Ireland, I’ve ALWAYS lost weight, because I don’t spend much money on food, and I walk far more there, than I would even consider here at home. I only eat when I’m really hungry, probably drink more tea than Guinness, and I don’t buy ANYTHING I can well do without. I stay in the cheapest decent accommodation possible, and limit my spending to a certain amount every day, to insure my survival, and take advantage of every free feature I find along the way. Granted there’s very little in Ireland that’s free…other than window shopping and wandering the streets, churches and graveyards. The day tours are cheap, and I have done the Burren and Connemara tours, which were both delightful and worth every penny.

Since I won’t drive in Ireland I always buy a bus/rail pass that offers unlimited travel. That’s how I was able to visit North Ireland…and spend a day in Achill Island when I spent a week in Newport. I just climbed on the bus and let the driver be my tour guide all the way to the end of the line in Dooagh, and then catch the last bus back. It’s a gorgeous drive by the way, and my chatty driver charmed me with tales of local attractions, flora, fauna, and even some personal gossipy personal vignettes. It was great and didn’t cost more than the tea, two pints and a few postcards I bought there.

So…I AM a miserly traveler, indeed I’ve been able to survive in relative comfort on very little money, until the Euro and the Celtic Tiger joined forces, the U.S. dollar fell gasping by the wayside, and fuel costs exploded over the moon.

I DID find a cheap flight I could afford, and there are still (as of this writing), seats left on the numerous special batches of United Airlines flights in May, which is a glorious time of year to travel. Here’s the rub…I can afford the flight BUT not the accommodation/living costs May is the beginning of the high season across the pond, and prices rise accordingly, across the board. I would have to go in debt using my credit card, something I dare not do.

Additional bitches are the breaking news about United flights facing some cancellations because their Boeing 777’s need inspecting….the aforementioned flights would be on this plane, going and coming and wouldn’t you know it…Heathrow Airport is in some kind of upheaval over baggage handlers, AND if that wasn’t enough….Galway’s water supply is tainted AGAIN, according to today’s news. Cryptosporidium I think is the culprit, and once again a good portion of the county is being told to boil water, and the hoteliers and service people are already complaining about how it will affect their revenues.

I would love to book a flight and see if my skills at successful travel on no money are as sharp as they used to be…but too many negatives are popping up like crocuses through the snow. Not the least of which is Himself’s jealous attitude about my solitary holidays. He’s like a child pouting about never being allowed to have any fun. GAWD…he knows we could use the time apart, but never thinks beyond I, me, and mine. Of course I’m just about the same, so far as being selfish, but he’s been aware of my fixation on Ireland for more than a decade.

Traveling on the cheap doesn’t bother me as much as the idea that I’d run out of money totally and be reduced to spending my last days in country in the airport waiting lounge. I don’t have that many friends in Ireland I could rely on to bail me out of financial trouble; at least no friends I could presume upon so heavily.

So….perhaps I’ll try to make lemonade…

There are a lot of places I’d like to visit that don’t require a passport, long security lines, or taking my shoes off before I’m allowed to board and be seated in a cramped space next to someone who farts or screams for eight hours while I’m dying for a smoke.

Montana for instance. It’s my home state, and it’s thirty miles from my house to the border. Whenever we drive over that way I feel rejuvenated coming off the winding road from Lookout Pass. There’s one last long curve before you drive out of the tree covered mountains and the big sky opens up before your eyes. It never fails to make me catch my breath when at last I can see the Montana Rockies in their entire majestic frosty splendor. I wouldn’t want to live in Montana anymore, but I always know I’m home when I go there, so I know you can’t take Montana out of the girl. It’s high, wide and as handsome a land as ever I’ve known. The biggest drawback from a holiday in the Treasure State is the price of gas. You cannot cross the state on one tank of gas. To spend a week or two and see anything would probably equal or surpass the flight money to London, but at least I wouldn’t be stranded in a far off country. I even have a relative or two still alive, and a friend or two who would spot me a loan to get home.

I’d love to see Oregon again. It’s almost as close as Montana if you take the right roads. It’s been decades since I’ve seen anything of the Oregon I knew as a child. The best thing about the state is the stewardship of the natives. They stopped inviting newcomers long ago, actually made a point to telling visitors, “Thanks for visiting, have a safe trip home.” The polite way to say, ‘here’s your hat, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”. Portland is a sprawling cosmopolitan city on the Columbia River, but there’s a home town feel that is quite comforting. The drive to the coast is as scenic as anything Ireland has to offer.

Idaho as a destination really can’t be beat, even after all the years we’ve lived here. When the weather permits the whole state just preens to have her picture taken from any vantage point. Deep canyons, craggy mountains, arid volcanic deserts, and miles and miles of agricultural beauty, are sparsely populated but eager to entertain the visitor. Scoff the fools who don’t appreciate this lovely place. I don’t enjoy the winters, but all credit to those who do; it’s not the state’s fault that I’m terrified of snow in its deceptive innocence. Well, yeah, technically it is, but that’s another story.

So…sometime when the weather is stable enough to be trusted perhaps I’ll take a road trip, and spend a little money on my own turf, forget Europe for awhile. As bad as I’d love to jet over, it’s just not in the cards I’m afraid. I’ll tuck that dream away for another year. Who knows…I might still win the lottery.

A Stay-at-home Weekend w/music

It started snowing yesterday a little before dark, while we were socializing in our old neighborhood, so we came home early. Stopped by the neighborhood local for a drink and picked up some beer battered fries to bring home. It was snowing heavily when we got home and apparently it never stopped for long throughout the night.

There was probably 5 inches of new snow this morning and it kept up for the better part of the day until about 4:30 pm...when the sky cleared and the sun came out for probably 45 minutes. The weatherman tells us to expect this same weather pattern to last for nearly a week. So bloody tiresome. Anyway we never left the house today. I watched an instant movie from Netflix and the Florida Stakes horse race on tv. I picked the winners of the 2 races they showed, before making some pasta slumgoo for dinner. It was pretty good even though I overcooked the penne. In between all this non-activity I managed to wash/dry/hang/fold and put away all the laundry except bed linen. I'll save that for tomorrow probably. These dreary days just seem to slip from one to the other. It feels like there will never be a spring.

Anyway on one of my groups stage musicals was a topic and I went looking for a show tune I liked enough to remember for many years...and found this wonderful rendition by the terrific Elaine Stritch.

Beautiful Ursula, Empress of the Continuum...

The Cedar Street Bridge was cool and only moderately busy the day in 1992, when we found Beautiful Ursula. We had driven up north to Sandpoint from Coeur d'Alene, to visit friends and enjoy the lovely hot July weather. We had some time off from our college courses, so it was fun to just be carefree for a day. Sandpoint is perfect for that 'anywhere different' getaway.

As luck would have it none of our usual friends were available during the week, so we decided to behave like tourists for the day. The Bridge that spanned Cedar Creek was a delightfully different shopping mall, chock full of food courts, artsy shops and a bar with a great view of the creek that meandered through a portion of the town. There was a Mongolian stir fry buffet that we loved, so after gawking at all the pricey wares available we headed there for lunch, following our noses to the middle of the bridge. There were just a couple of people having an early lunch so the place was quiet as we ordered which meats and vegetables we wanted for the steaming rice bowls. As we watched the meat sizzle on the grill I suddenly became aware of the distinct sound of kittens mewing...!

Cat noises in a Mongolian stir fry joint gave me a big case of nervous giggles....

"Do you hear that?" I murmured to my hearing challenged spouse. He listened a minute and his eyes got big...yes...I wasn't imagining anything.

I scrutinized the case where the chilled meat selection were displayed....nothing suggested cat meat, but we could hear kittens crying, none-the-less. We turned around and were ever so relieved to see a box sitting on the floor by one of the round cafe tables. A girl of about ten was sitting in a wire backed chair next to the box, swinging her feet in a bored manner. I moved closer to peer in the box.

"Somebody left these kitties here...ya want one? My Mom won't let me keep them." She pouted.

In the box were five tiny kits...eyes barely opened...ohmigawd. The cafe owner had provided them with a little plain rice, and the poor mites had little sticky bits all over their pitiful faces. The tiny mewlers cried plaintively for their mama...who sadly was not there to respond.

We are cat lovers. As luck would have it our one feline pet had been lost over the Fourth of July, and we were still hoping she might find her way home, but after two weeks we knew the slim chance of that happening. So we looked over the wee kittens until our meals were ready, promising the youngster we'd pick one after lunch. I already had one chosen...a multi colored ball of fluff with a face full of dark rimmed milky blue eyes and rice kernels clinging to her chin and whiskers.

Another customer was gazing down at the kittens when we finished our lunch, so I hurried to scoop up the one who had captured my attention, and the man picked out another and held it in the crook of his arm. Dan strode boldly to the man and plucked the kit right away from him!

"Sorry...this one is already taken."

I couldn't believe he was being so aggressive, but it tickled me to see his chin jut out like a challenge. Fortunately his big shoulders and fierce looking beard belie his usually shy, amiable nature. He had picked the gray tiger striped brother of my little tortie kitten, different in marks and color but with the same white socks and huge kohl-rimmed eyes. Confidently, we walked away with our new bundles as though we'd spent days choosing the ones we wanted and were smugly satisfied.

As it was a really warm day and there was no air conditioning in the truck, we decided to head for home early so we could get to a shop that sold kitten formula. Our new babies were surely so hungry, although we agreed that rice was probably as good as anything for their immature tummies.

As Dan drove with one hand on the wheel toward home he stroked the kitten in his lap until it fell asleep and I held mine close and whispered continuously to her. It didn't take me five minutes to choose Ursula as her name.

"You're an Empress, and your name is Beautiful Ursula...you will grow up strong and will someday rule the Continuum. You'll never have to be afraid...shush shush...it's all fine."

Who knows where all that came from...but it all came to pass just as I promised her. She is diminutive, but so imperious, with a snowy white chest that fluffs like an Elizabethan ruff, a proudly erect feathery tail, she surveys her empire with possessive disdain that is so obviously regal, we know SHE KNOWS who she is. She has reigned omnipotent for nearly seventeen years. Though slowed by age she is still gorgeous as she strolls her domain.

Early on we decided to become responsible animal owners and had our dog and the two cats neutered as soon as possible, and settled down to enjoy our happy companions. They stayed indoors until we moved to a more rural setting.

Sadly, Dan's cat, Precious Gollum was not so fortunate with longevity, at least with us. He disappeared after about three years, but the oddest thing happened after he was gone.

Gollum was always strictly a Daddy's boy, he loved to snuggle with Dan either in his chair or the bed, and he had a playful happy disposition, whereas Ursula was not one to cuddle, or certainly not be cradled and cooed over; and she openly ignored Dan's fawning attention...until Gollum disappeared.

After that she wandered the house looking for her brother for several days, until finally it seemed that she accepted her fate as a solitary ruler...and crawled up in Dan's lap one night. She found the crook of his arm, and rolled over on her back, allowing him to stroke her soft little belly. In other ways she seemed to take on some of Gollum's nicer attributes, displaying the best of both their personalities. We were totally amazed. It helped ease Dan's sadness at losing his Precious Gollum, and made the Empress a much more congenial monarch.

She became very people oriented over the years. When we have company or stage a yard sale, Ursula has become the ultimate star, jumping up on display tables to greet potential customers, allowing them to pet her and ooh and aah at her ravishing beauty and SWEET disposition. It's amazing how many people have wanted to buy her...yet her attitude toward other cats in the house was and is one of total dismissal. She hisses and swipes with razor claws at any animal who dares venture too close to her reverence, and she's still a savage mouser even in her dotage. A decade ago there was no safe haven for any bird who ventured close to her; for a tiny, short legged lightweight she was amazingly wiry, with a springing leap that was extraordinary to watch. Oddly enough our bird loving neighbor woman developed a rapport with Ursula and convinced her with Cat Whispering (I guess) to confine her bird hunting to our yard.

Overall she's been patient with us, her minions, who have accepted as family all manner of walk-on cats, who find our company and generosity magnetic. They have come and gone over the years, and Beautiful Ursula has tolerated them so long as they keep their distance. Only one cat has ever buffaloed her, to a point where she took to our bed, and became so emaciated I actually feared for her life. We found a good home for that cat to solve the problem, and Ursula's healthy appetite bounced back like magic.

These days she sleeps even more than most cats, but her appetite is still healthy, and she will rise to the occasional chase of one or more of the other four cats we've kept. We're pretty sure the Empress won't live forever, but she really doesn't show any real signs of relinquishing her hold on the Continuum as she knows it.

There is a Princess in waiting for the job, but she's in no hurry to usurp the throne. Ursula enjoys a little canned fish food, and the occasional sip of skim milk, with a spoon of cottage cheese as a treat now and then. She pretends not to care about it but I've caught her sleeping with her chin resting on the catnip mice we buy for the Gang of Five. She walks out almost every day, or sleeps by the veranda doors where the sun warms her elegant, silky coat. At night she crawls under the covers and snugs up next to my side until I fall asleep, then she moves to the bottom of the bed but atop the duvet to avoid being crushed in a sleeping accident. Life is good for an aging ruler.

Another day in Paradise...

Yesterday I glanced out the window and noticed a white pickup truck in the driveway. Thinking that it was my landlord come to call I nearly panicked, as the cats' litter boxes were overdue for cleaning. Guilt and paranoia rushed over me like a cold wave. SHIT...why me...





It wasn't the landlord. A young couple unknown to me climbed out of the truck, their attention riveted on neighbor Jack's driveway (we share a large, well-gravelled semi circle for our entry way from the road. It's well used for turn arounds, and the cops love to park there to catch speeders coming off the frontage road too. It's convenient for people to pull over and talk on the phone, look at maps, or explain their excess speed or erratic driving to the police.





I looked out the north window to see what the couple were scrutinizing, and lo...there was a cow elk on the little treed hummock next to Jack's part of the driveway. I grabbed my camera and headed out the front door. The elk was the first critter I'd seen all winter, which has been brutal for the animals....since January DEEP drifts of countless snow storms covered everything, so moose, elk and deer have come down to forage on whatever they can find to survive.





Our large yard is churned up from tracks, and my southern neighbor's ornamental shrubbery was gnawed away to stumps, but the animals were never seen.





I noticed the elk staggering awkwardly as she made her way to the shelter of a small evergreen and took several pictures before the driver of the truck strolled closer when I said,





"This is the first of the critters I've seen this year."





"It looks like she's sick, or maybe got hit by a car."





"I can call the Sheriff I guess, but I doubt they'll say more than just to leave here alone".





I turned to get my cell phone from the house, until it flashed in my mind,





"Hey, the guy next door works for the Fish & Game office. I see his car, so he's at home...why don't you run over and ask him to call them. They'll know what to do."





After the couple left, I watched Jack come out from his trailer a couple times to assess the elk, and after Himself came in from work we watched it before we had to leave to take care of some car business. It never moved except to look around a bit. Himself thought she might be ready to calve, as her belly looked full, but when we drove past on our way out I noticed one leg appeared to be injured.





Anyway, she was gone when we drove in after dark. Jack told me today in an email, that she was there when he went to bed, and that his superiors had said to just let her be...which is pretty much what I supposed their response to be. If they aren't hurting anything, or in obvious anguish, I guess it's best to just let nature do it's own job.




While we were away we ran into my best friend's brother. He informed us that her health is failing rapidly; she's been taken off chemotherapy as it has made her so ill she can't take even her IV nourishment. She's down to 78 pounds and has basically given up the battle to survive multiple cancers.


Letting nature take it's course is sometimes so hard.


*
A Forest Service truck and a front end loader were just here; the loader cleared a path through the snow over at Jack's...and loaded up the elk, which had only moved a few yards away from the trees where she was yesterday, before apparently succumbing to whatever injury she had sustained.

Whinging in the night...

I just heard myself giving out in the wee hours of the night, to the air,

"Talk about being lonely..."

If you follow Twenty Major's site, and have read his latest blog you might have a teensy clue what I'm on about.

Oh hell...now I'm talking to you.

It's okay, I was offended by Himself earlier today and haven't let go of that too common occurrence. I'll buy some Ex-lax and fix him a pudding he'll regret without knowing why.

He'll be gone in the morning to a day of doctors' appointments. I just have to be up and dressed to deliver his ass to the meeting spot with the driver to these rounds...I'll be DAMNED if my car will sit in a parking lot all day long while I'm stuck in this house yet another day.

Enough is bigod ENOUGH.

Mopey, Dumpy, Crock, Weepy, Sappy, Sleazy and...Adolescents?

A friend of mine from school and I were in the back seat of my dad's car, waiting for my parents to come out of a bar in Stanley, ID one summer night. This was back in the mid-50's...my little brother was in the car with us too. I must have been 12 or so, Myrna and I had come up from Twin Falls, camping with my folks, to earn a couple of Camp Fire Girls badges we needed. Dad was a Boy Scout Leader and an avid outdoors man, so we spent a lot of time up in the Sawtooth Mountains.

The annual Stanley Stomp was going on at the time so Mom and Dad had decided to stop in for a drink or coffee, whatever, before the long drive home.

Myrna, my brother Alan and I were amusing ourselves with trivia, trying to name the Seven Dwarfs, It was dark, and we were full of too much weekend, and just got sillier as minutes progressed; too tired to think straight but clinging to the shared company, in the dark, unwilling to give in to the good tired feelings.

We could name six of the Dwarfs:Dopey, Grumpy, Doc; Sleepy, Happy and Sneezy....the last Dwarf wouldn't come out of the reaches of our shallow pre-pubescent recesses, but we were having lots of giggles as we chanted the names to burn them into our memory. Even then we knew that the seventh name would come when we least expected it, so we needed to memorize.

Chanting the names led to twisted tongues...Dopey...Dumpy...Groc...and on until we collapsed at our clever hilarity. Myrna and I were the queens of funny.
We were laughing and rolling around on the seat of the old Chevy...the tearful giggles surely would have been heard by any passerby, but everyone was in the bar, enjoying an adult evening of swing dancing and whoop-up.

This little episode I recall so vividly probably didn't last any longer than fifteen minutes tops, before my parents were back in the car and heading south for home, but never for an instant have I forgotten it. Truly I was blessed with the gift of being easily amused.

Thirty some years later, in a bar in Pocatello, Idaho on a women's pool league night...my team was beating the pants off the bar team, and the cheap arsed manager, who was trying to get out of buying a round for we visitors, announced over the PA,

"I'll give a free pitcher of beer to anyone who can name the Seven Dwarfs."

Like a drunken juggernaut I headed for the bar where he stood.

"Make it a round for my team and you're on!"

"Okay, but you'll have to write them down",

Did he think I couldn't write?

"Fine. Give me a piece of paper and a pen, and start pouring, I'll be done before you are."

And of course, I was! Dopey, Grumpy, Doc, Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, and Bashful.

This morning out my window...

I see thick fog hovering over the valley like a pall. It seems to muffle everything, and not a branch stirs.


I read the words and consider whether 'pall' is the correct term.


Yes. and yes again! As a true believer in Google I dutifully type "define: pall" in the search engine and up pops the information I'm seeking.


Definitions of pall on the Web:


1. become less interesting or attractive
2. daunt: cause to lose courage; "dashed by the refusal"
3. cover with a pall
4. cloy: cause surfeit through excess though initially pleasing; "Too much spicy food cloyed his appetite"
5. cause to become flat; "pall the beer"
6. chill: a sudden numbing dread
7. die: lose sparkle or bouquet; "wine and beer can pall"
8. burial garment in which a corpse is wrapped
9. lose strength or effectiveness; become or appear boring, insipid, or tiresome (to); "the course palled on her"
10 curtain: hanging cloth used as a blind (especially for a window)
11 tire: get tired of something or somebody

http://wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn


After checking my mail I move on to take a nice shower, and dress half-heartedly. Days like this sap all traces of energy or interest, but by the time I return to the computer the sun is making a valiant attempt to stab through the heavy clouds on the near hill to the south; the temperature has risen to an encouraging 40 degrees. I open the drapes in both bedrooms with anticipation, even though the east is still dreadfully lacking dimension. Obviously we are in the midst of an air inversion. In the distance I can just make out some chimney smoke...suspended in the still air. The whole view reminds me of a boring photograph negative. Hopefully by noon, there will be some patches of blue to break the monotony.

I am SO ready for an end to winter, yet a little worried that rain might come too heavy and fast, in which case we'll be in serious trouble from flooding. The one big advantage to our old rental house was that it rested on a hillside, far from the river. The spring melt would seep through the foundation of the house...meander across the concrete floor, and whoosh out the garage door and on down the driveway in it's rush to join the river. Unfortunately now we are situated in the flood plain, probably even lower than the river which runs parallel to the freeway. And there's been so much snow this year...

How obvious is my dislike of winter? More exactly I should say snow...

This photo doesn't look like much unless you know that we place a table and chairs under the lowest branches in the summer time...it's a SHADE tree, and the berm you see in the foreground was nearly 6 feet high when this photo was taken; at the end of our last big snow that berm was at least 10 feet high. We ran out of places to push the vile stuff, and at one point our access/egress path very nearly disappeared altogether when there was 4 feet of snow level with the veranda. I know a lot of people had worse weather than we did...but no one in the world hates snow more than me. Period.