Tuesday - One Day at Blue Shoe Farm

Photo: The spotted rump one is the smarty, see the pushed and loose board? The brown horse is innocent.


Today I :
-took Wilder to spend a gift certificate he got for his birthday.
-repaired the fence the horses keep (well, the smarter horse) keeps climbing through without getting stuck to travel to my neighbors lovely clover and green green grass yard.
-repaired the stall wall that the same above wily horse has somehow pulled down.
-cleaned out half of the truck.
-and then spilled a milkshake all over and down the heater vent.
-read a work email that pissed me off and I started reactive typing... but then deleted that puppy and decided the insane people of the world that use email to get their indirect passive aggressive wee tendencies out I would not participate with. They can just wait a couple days.
-gave my daughter lots of fluids. She has a cold.
-scooped horse manure.
-mixed chicken feed.
-planted squash and watered strawberries.
-picked up aluminum chicken coop roofing. (free!!)
-looked at new stoves (or, dreamed about a new stove by looking at them in the big box stores)
-did not clean my house.
-but I did unload the dishwasher and do two loads of laundry.
-paid bills.
-went to the bank.
-went to the library.
-added way too many friends to facebook that are from my childhood. Who says you can't go back? Scary. I try to stay off of facebook, don't need another thing keeping me on my butt in front of this little screen.
-Had a farm injury--when I let the horses into the bigger field, they ran around. Fluffy dog amanda ran with and somewhat under one of the horses. It's hoof hit her back (I imagined a flat dog for a second) and then she ran crying her head off to me. She has not been able to carry her tail up easily, and seems very sore. I gave her a gin and aspirin and sent her to bed. We will see how she wags in the morning after a good night sleep.
Is all this why I wake up sore in the morning? My doctor just keeps telling me I am perimenopausal. I think she is using that term too frequently. I bet if I go in for a sunburn and a runny nose she will tell me I am perimenopausal. I bet the root canal I had last week was due to this, also. I will ask her.


Late note: my daughter just informed me she would not date someone that wears a speedo bathing suit. I have no idea where that came from, especially since I keep telling her she is not dating until age 25. Sometimes the looks she gives me are so worth a gazillion words.


Photo: Amanda dog and Bella cat on the porch. Note Bella talking in Muffler Dog's ear.

Kids - Lego

And this is for my son. Who took about 343 photos of every angle of his lego battle scenes. Including close-ups of all the characters, which I inadvertently downloaded from my camera and said... "huh?"

Kids

This one is for my lovely daughter, who seems to have a whoppin' cold right at the moment.

House - Heat and Electrical work

1. Victory on the heating front. Got my 500 lb dang oil furnace (I mean durn) dragged unceremoniously down the basement stairs and it is being installed! $1000 bucks. And I bought the "new" one off of craigslist. Can't have propane because it is in the basement, can't have gas because there is no service out here.
But the original 1200 lb. wood/oil furnace was OLD and mightily cracked. See there are huge bonuses to living in an old house. They are not so hermetically sealed that you get carbon monoxide poisoning if your furnace firebox has a 6 inch crack in the side. (in my mind, I am trying to be generous, but only come up with "snaky snaky sellers", hiding behind christianity to soothe your lyin' soul) Whoa, did I say that? I have never learned that forgiveness part of humanity. I will work on it before I die, but probably not with them. Did I mention the boys found more in the wetlands when camping? They pulled out a camper stair set and a computer monitor. Who the %*# puts a computer monitor, gas can, oil can, 20 foot rug, gas grill, motorcycle, truck and car parts "in the bushes" when the garbage truck takes pretty much anything you put out there away for free. Aaah. I think I figured it out. They buried or burned their garbage, not gonna give it to the man when God so graciously gave them these mini three acres to hide it all on! When our well water goes oily, I will know why.
Sorry. Big rant action there.
2. Hmmm on the electrical front. The first quote to do my electrical is $2500. And that is only for a new box, and to update the kitchen. That is it. No living room, dining room, bathrooms, laundry room or any of the bedrooms. So that may mean that this will be a kaboodle of bucks job to finish it all? And I just spent $123 which I felt was a luxury... on base molding for downstairs. Yes, I need it. No, heat is not more important. Why yes, I am lousy at setting priorities, why do you ask?
3. I have been subtley forced into thinking of my plywood painted floors (pics to come!!) and deciding I don't like them and want the wood underneath exposed and refinished. What are the chances that is less than $1K? Yeah, thought so.

Commuting - Ferry

Sunset reflection, bainbridge ferry.

Another lucky day commutin' on the ferry.

Family - Feathers or Fur

Tired old cat.

Demanding, yet gentle, hen.

Love-button of a horse.

Usually mud-brown mini farm dog.

Ferry Travel

To get this view, get on the ferry out of Seattle. Doesn't matter which one.

Seattle, 6/15/09

Hello I have a little problem

Hi. It's been awhile. It's me, Rose here to comment, yet again on something that my mom has done. Durn. She said durn. Actually she wrote it. And it was on purpose. It wasn't one of those accidently trying to write darn and ends up writing durn kind of things. She may think she hasn't gone country but oh, she could never be more wrong. Durn does not only sound "country" but it's also not even a word AND for some reason it just really bugs me so that's even more a reason for her not to say it. I mean the durn... it just gives me little shivers down my spine, kind of like nails on a chalk board. Veeeeeerrry bad. Ok, im done now.

Family - Mom story

As in my mom. Grandmother Heidi. She, for fun, cleaned out my car. It took her 3 and a half hours over two days. (Wait, should I be embarrassed to type that?) This is the minivan. The one that took me TWO TRIES to buy. As in, I went car shopping for a minivan ten years ago when I was pregnant with Wilder since I knew one kid was the load limit in my Nissan truck.... and ended up with a 4WD jeep. Black. Then, seven years ago I went out to buy that minivan to handle carpools yadee yada... and came home with an old Volvo wagon. I had major minivan issues. It would be the end of my free and independent way of life. My art degree would shirk in shame in the back of my closet (wait, where is my degree? did I even really ever get that?) People would roll their eyes and say that I have embraced the soccer mom way of life. I would need to vote differently in the presidential elections... and get really good at baking things for soccer parties. (never mind neither urchin played soccer at this point) I was seriously worried. Very much like when I was worried about leaving the husband because all of a sudden I would be living in said minivan in Walmart parking lots because for some reason I would be instantly destitute. I may be prone to over-exaggeration.
Anyway, the volvo could no longer carry our ever getting bigger kids, so then came the minivan. From day one, once I found it and bought the big white puppy, I was one happy camper. I cannot believe how much I love this car. Besides the fact that I go blazing by police at a higher rate of speed than posted (not much, not much) and never get tickets ("Oh, that mom in minivan must be thinking of her children... she is not paying attention, she is a good egg, not a safety hazard") when my pals in zippier, littler, sportier vehicles get pulled over for going speeds less than me. OR I can fit a full couch or 5 bales of hay or my recycle bin and garbage can or 6 kids plus two dogs or enough gear to last for a 5 week camping trip or 1 grumpy cat, a twin bed, and two dressers. I think you get the picture. This is the perfect family, farm, late-to-the-doctor, carpool and racecar for me.
The only downside is other cars hate being stuck behind me, so frequently whip by me, only to SLOW DOWN when they pull in front of me. Oh. Nothing gets my ire up as this drivin' behavior. Part of the American Driving Pysche of no-white-big-butted-minivan-is-getting-in-front-of-me.
Sorry. Now I will return to the original topic after that little wayward story. The clean car part. After we went out for dinner, the kids plopped back in my now clean car. Wilder pipes up from the back seat "why does the car smell?" I had to point out that it was clean... the layers of coffee, milk, 1.5 year old mint chocolate chip ice cream that my daughter assured me she had cleaned up which I assumed was done until her grandma cleaned it up....and that he was smelling fresh and windex and all things sparkly.
Wilder answered "It smells horrible." Rose and I cracked up. But I will try to start cleaning out my car more often. I think my son should not think clean cars smell horrible. Sigh.

Female Stuff - Fantasy Dream

To share how far gone I am in this whole house thing. I had the BEST dream last night. In it found a friend to help me re-do my bathroom. The dream consisted of me learning how to measure things, how to install the vanity, put up a level mirror, move the toilet and install and new one. Seriously. This was the BEST DREAM EVER. I woke up so happy. Did I tell you that he also owned a Re-Use store that had used old house parts in it? I distinctly remember oohing over the milled pillars to replace my front porch's unglamorous 4 x 4's with. The only down side was something about his family was wierd. (wait, aren't all dreams technically about a part of yourself?) But I didn't really have to deal with them. I could just shop for Old House Parts and then help my new friend install them. Boy, just writing about this is making me a wistful and happy. Sigh.

Kids - Middle School graduation

In the 1970's when we transitioned from middle school to high school, we just went to a new school. I guess things are a bit different in big ol' 2009. Last night Rose graduated middle school. Repeat: Middle School. There was pomp, there was Sister Sledge "We Are Family" there were circumstances. There was alot of money spent! Hopefully not mine, but I am sure it was. Student pictures, flashed on the stage screen, 14 year old girls teetering on dang high heels (really, really high), our daughter lookin' 20 years old walking to receive a diploma and flowers. The head of the school gave a little bio of every student, EVERY ONE and they were full of insight and humor. But it was a blast. In particular, loved the student speeches. The second was delivered by one of Rose's spunkiest friends (always takes my parenting decisions on as a point of argument) and among other things, she called out every girl clique at the school. There is nothing to disempower a group as to make it public and give it a name. Good job, Ms. CB. I remember cliques in school as silent and deadly.... like our old dog Sophie's rear end gaseous explosions. Parents didn't know, administrators and teachers could do nothing, students were ruled by their spoken or unspoken codes of conduct. But you take one strong gal with brave and clear words to speak up... and poof. They are all diminished.

Female Stuff - Procrastination II

Good lord. Another day at work and another day I am sitting here procrastinating. OR, I could look at it that I am not procrastinating on typing on the blog. So technically I am doing what I should be doing.
There, all better. Talked myself right out of that little conundrum.
I look at this as one more sign that I am slipping sweetly into menopause. Did I tell you I am slowly going insane? Well, I am. I am sure there is a physiological reason for it (hormones, hormones) but right now we can just say I am going insane. (Wait, would that technically be "sweetly" if I am going insane?) Just ask the kids. One minute I am all irreverent and light, and the next minute I am swearing there will never NEVER NEVER be another lego brought in the house with my hard-earned dollars. Did I say I said that? Well, I more yelled it, with parental crazy anger behind it. This is tantamount to me saying we will never have milk and bread EVER again at home. Or I will never let my son breathe fresh air again. And the reason? Son chose to build legos rather than get dressed and ready for school. Can we say over-reaction?
(me, not him)
It shall be such a joy to be going through this as my daughter has just turned 14. Won't we be a splendid festival of hormonal atrocities waiting to happen? Do other women go insane? I don't remember my mom going insane, but maybe that was because I was a teenager and not paying attention to anything but myself. Hmmmmmmmm.

Oregon -

Oregon - somewhat bland photos

These are mostly memory triggers as opposed to loveliness in a two dimensional format. These are all white appaloosas with spots all over themselves. I noticed this breeder last time I was through here. Hey gal with the white spotted horse, this one is for you!

I truly love this place. Oh yes, looks very, shall we say, humble? It is the Skyhook Motel in Mitchell. Super extraordinary kind owners Becky and Dennis have had me as a guest for about 18 years now. I have watched the gradual 'remodeling' of the place, and stayed in every room at one time or another. They keep it super clean with homemade doilies and homey touches. The building is transplanted from a town that used to exist on the Columbia River and was flooded out-- Vanport, a hastily-built town located between the Portland city limits and the Columbia River, which was built to house shipyard workers during WWII. So I am combining a couple of my fave things : kind folks and history when I stay here.

Along the Columbia River are orchards upon orchards that supply cherries and apples. Here the old trees are gearing up for another season. I think I took this pic to show me how they pruned their trees, since I have old orchard trees on my property.

Oregon - ghost tales

Having uploaded all my pics finally from the trip, I will slather this blog liberally with them.

The first set is the ol' house the town of Mitchell hopes to (perhaps) turn into a museum. This house looks like it needs even more work than my house... and it is still for sale. If anyone buys it I will donate labor to help you fix it up!

The second is a pic I took on my evening walk of a building that is supposedly haunted. It is the thing way in the background. Not that I am believin' these stories but I was by myself, it was dark, and the building was off the main street, and Creeping Me Out. I had not heard these tales, but when I took the pic there was no cat near me (and it is front and center in the pic) We all know how terrifying cats can be.

Country - Kids

After spring rain. (image Blue Shoe Farm Blog)

My daughter has told her friends that her mother is "going country". The way she says it makes it seem like I am "going postal". I just happen to live on property with a horse or two and a chicken or two, but I still have the same amount of cowboy boots and country cd's as I did when I was a city girl. Which is more boots than cd's honestly....

Work - Procrastination Station - Right here

What I would rather be doing. Image Blue Shoe Farm Blog

Writing three blognotes in one day means I am procrastinating on other things. I have not written in a while on here due to the (still) active virus on my home computer, so I am never online at home. That means I get a lot of work done on the house, yard, etc, but not a lot of work done of PAID work . (I process dozens of work emails a day, call folks, yaddy-ya, etc) Due to this virus event, I have over 1700 emails waiting for processing in my inbox. I only have done 2 hours of computer time a week for the past month. That is not enough for me!
So I am behind on work, so am working on typing these little missives. Please give me the key to overcoming procrastination. I need to unlock a really really big door with it.
(Am leaving now to Go To Do Work)

Horse Info - for stalls

Some things to note:
1. After digging the stalls down down down, I leveled it and put down recycled rubber mats. Then I put straw pellets down first. Not a good idea. Bey ate all of them. They plump up after you get them wet and look like fluffy bedding but it did not matter. He ate them.
2. So put down wood pellets. He nibbled but did not scarf them down. They make the ground fluffy above the mats, and collect any waste they choose to do in their stalls.
3. Put down 3/4 minus gravel, not cleaned outside the barn. This should tamp down nicely, the horses do not slip in it. Plus... it is good for their hooves when they are shoeless.

House - Project List

I have actually finished another item on my to-do list. The big wicked festival of mud that was right outside the barn stalls is no more. Well, technically, I think it would be no more in the summer since it is dry, but that is besides the point. My retired neighbor Dan came over with a borrowed bulldozer and not only scraped the stalls (you would not believe the smell when you did down through 10 years of horse cesspool compressed into layers) (previous owner must have had major hoof problems with his horses if he let them stand in that), but also took away all the extra goo outside the stall doors. He absolutely rocks. And I don't know how to appropriately thank him. Then, I had a big BIG truck dump 12 yards of gravel down. I don't know how big a yard is, but I know it was a big truck that mooshed down my grass 4 inches into the ground it was so heavy. The other thing was my scoring deal on a new kitchen sink (the previous owners were a bit on the cheap side, and put in a plastic sink) (not kidding) . Home Despot had a 400 buck Kohler on sale for $52! Love that sort of deal. Now if I just had the time to put it, the bathroom vanity, sink, toilet, flooring etc etc in my house, I would be set!

Baseball - Part II - Or, reliving the terror of your youth

Now that I have been a parent for a few years (okay... technically 14) I notice I look differently at how I was raised. And, I have noticed that as parents, we don't always make the right choice, sometimes we operate on auto pilot, or relive some childhood trauma, or some youthful slight, or just force our kids into doing things that we wanted to do as kids, but did not get a chance. Of course, when I type this I am not talking about myself... just OTHER parents. ha. Remember my story of Wilder joining the baseball team? Well I had a moment of slapping my brain right back 33 years and it was not a good thing.
When I was an urchin, I had a workin' professional ma. So if I did after school sports, she was not a parent on the sidelines. As a child, I was tall, gawky, skinny, with an overbite. This was in the 70's before the school curriculum on bullying. I, like every kid of my era, received bullying, nasty names, etc etc. That was just par for the course. Most of us survived, but I notice I have a very strong defense mechanism for the underdog instilled in my genes. I attribute that to being the underdog at some point, and knowing how it feels.
So Wilder's first game. As we walk up to the field, both teams on the field in their team colors, groups of parents on the sidelines, I was thrust back instantly to my childhood and the uncomfortable feeling of organized sports. I am all flipping out (inside) and Wilder runs off to join his team. He knows no one. But, after about 7 minutes, Wilder being Wilder, he knows everyone, has filled me in on who is 'mean' and who is 'cool' and is sitting on the bench surrounded by his new teammates. This kid is SO not me as a child, and I thankfully, am also so not me as a child, as I blather at all the surrounding parents.
I just walked up, into and out of a childhood fear, and came out fine with the help of a great son. So strange how those sort of things can pop up at you.

Commuting - Don't do this in public

Rose and I are waiting in the ferry line to go home. As we wait and share her ipod which she is singing to... the fellow in front of us in the 1992 Honda Accord hops out of his car (license number 536TPR) and bends over. He pulls out a razor and begins to shave his head. All of it. It looked like he was already bald, but obviously when you are up close there must be sprigs sprouting. When our line begins going, he is holding down his ear to get those sneaky to reach hairs back there and waiting for the last minute. Obviously, I was captivated by his ability to turn a very public place into his own personal bathroom. I felt like we were standing in the bathroom with him shaving his head, and I didn't even know him. Plus, we had our cars in the bathroom with us, and trees bushes and ferry traffic. What a bonus ferry travelers behind us will have when they step out of their car and see all the hair clippings.
Today one of our most stalwart volunteers was reading a book about the blurring of public and private because of commerce. I am not sure where this falls in that, but I am sure it does.

Kids - baseball, Part I

We have been walloped with one heckuva computer virus of late. Or multiple viruses as the case may be. Norton did not catch them, Kaspersky caught them but could do nothing about them since they went through the system and disabled it's ability to stop them, and now I have Mcafee. Let's pray that this works. And, without the prayers, we can go directly to the computer guys who clean it all off of my system.
Here is a baseball story. Wilder started tossing a baseball with his dad. Then there was some batting action going on. So I took him to Fred Meyer to get a real bat for an early birthday present. If you are not a baseball person, you need to imagine a wall of bats, all different colors, lengths, weights. How on earth to pick one? How about a mitt? Do they do different things? And at his age... 9, and a way beginner, is he a softball fella or a baseball fella? I had no idea. So on the bat we went for color. I was pretty sure this was not the best way to do it, so when the only other people showed up on the aisle, I promptly asked them. The older fellow had a knit cap pulled low on his head, low shorts, oversize in most of the things he was wearing. The other fella looked wiry and smaller, younger, rougher, edgy. I held up the baseball and softball and asked them, "does he play (gesturing at Wilder) baseball or softball at his age?"
The larger of the two looked at Wilder, asked him his age, his weight in a barky kinda voice. My son being who he is, stood up straight and answered to the best of his ability. (I must be a bad ma since I have no idea how tall either of my kids are, and how much they weigh, I can barely remember their birthweight, and their birth length... HA. But then I still think I am in my thirties....Double HA) They confered between each other, and said 'baseball'. I thanked 'em and we moved on toward the cashier. The older one came around the corner and said "Is that the bat he is playing with?" Gesturing toward the snappy colored bat we had picked out. We said yes, he said no. We went back to the aisle, where the two of them got serious in picking out Wilder the right size bat. They absolutely rocked. Ryley went out with his new bat, his baseball ready to roll. The older fellow asked him what team he was on, we said none, since it was too late to get him signed up. We thanked the two baseball guys and left.
After paying and walking out the door, in the firezone illegally parked was a black SUV with tricked-out wheels and spinners. Standing next to it's open door was the older baseball guy, talking on his cell. He saw us, put his call on hold, and walked over. "You know, it is not too late to sign up for the North Perry coach pitch team, and it would be great to get him started in" Turns out this fellow was a coach. Well, that was all we needed. Even though we have scads of fields around our house, we drive two towns away to play on the North Perry team. Wonderful coach, great team. All because of a random question asked. You never know who you may strike up a conversation with.

Spring?

When I was driving back from Oregon it was 80. When I got to Seattle , it was 70'. Today it was 50's. When it was 70', I thought i was going to DIE. As if it was 101 in the shade. I couldn't think, couldn't work, just wanted to layabout with a cold ice cubed drink. How is that for being a true Washington mossback? That is why when it is sunny here in the northwest, even if it is 50's, we break out the shorts. (I am not that far gone, however, to wear shorts when it is below 65. You can all worry when I do. Hopefully I will be in a "home" of some sort at that time and you can just visit during the appropriate hours and remind me of your name)

Travel-Ory-Gun

Behind the scenes (scenery) tour of the Painted Hills Image Blue Shoe Farm Blog

The Mule and Draft Horse auction in Redmond, OR. They had some amazing wagons/carriages/surreys that went to auction for so cheap! Image Blue Shoe Farm Blog

My home away from home. Painted Hills Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds. Image Blue Shoe Farm Blog.

I love coming home from a trip. But I also wish I had another day in Oregon. Tomorrow all sorts of things were happening in my "second home town". Town meetings, offers of hikes in the backwoods of BLM property that people don't get to go....and on this trip I got two job offers out of the blue! Will post lots of pictures.

Things I Have Learned

Things I have learned recently:
1. Police SUV's are very fast, but don't have any special engines.
2. Police officers after a while do not react to things with adrenaline. Such as walking up to a dark house, walking into a domestic dispute, dealing with cranky people
3. Police officers get asked questions all day by their commanding officers, etc etc so they don't want to go home to a wife that asks them more questions. It irks them.
4. The seatbelts in the back are controlled by the officer in the front. You can't unbuckle without their assistance.
5. Sometimes in non-emergencies police run red lights and speed a bit.
6. My 911 line is okey-dokey with people calling for a non-emergency. No matter how much they pound that into your head when you are in Seattle, when you hit my neighborhood, don't worry about calling for something mild. They will even act like a guest services desk in a mall and look things up for you. (even if you tell them you don't need it because you feel guilty for using the line)
7. My neighborhood/city police are super, super, super nice and helpful.
8. Sheila's Cafe has a great waitress. This may become my "Vera's" replacement.
9. Mor MOR's has excellent hot chocolate.
10. Tizley's is a place I highly recommend, good view, great staff, great food, good beer, games that are fun to play with kidlets.
8. Wilder is taking the WASL this week, and loved it yesterday. Writing is today, he is a bit concerned.

Road Trip ! (Work!)

Since purchasing the mini-homestead (truly truly mini....less than 3 acres) I have not had a trip in the ol' vehicle to my fave Oregon backcountry.
I am heading to a work conference during the week to Portland (way better than Seattle in many ways, according to this ol'timer), and then going to head out into the wild west yonder. Even though I have never lived in the desolate part of Central Oregon (not Bend, the overpopulated Phoenix/Bellevue-like area) when I head down highway 26 it feels like I am going home. No idea why this is. Have already told the kids that I will probably end up here when I retire. There is something there that calls me. In alot of ways my wee farmthing is a teeny splash of Oregon-ness for me. Almost like I moved what I was looking for to Kitsap from Oregon. I get the same feeling when I turn down my road and see the Olympic Mountains towering over my home. Yay! Will post those cool pics when I get back. The kids dad is going to run the show at the wee farm while I am gone. I wish him luck. He thinks he is going to get all these projects done, little does he know how much time this all really takes. Oh, I see the friends who come over and think GGGEEEEEZZZZuuuuuusssss, gal, how many things can you do at one time. I don't think they diagnosed kidlets with ADHD when I was a youngun' otherwise I would be a candidate. (or, perhaps I am a late developer, yet another perk of peri-meno)

Happy Easter! Week in a nutshell.

I am sure Rose is giving me a teenage lecture about something in this picture.

Wilder wishing you a Happy Day
Happy Easter, all. Here is the week in a nutshell.
1. Joined Facebook a bit ago. Former friends from eons ago are coming out of the woodwork. What a strange thing. Don't join Facebook if you are trying to avoid any portion of your previous life. It will find you...
2. Went and helped at the Wing Luke Museum auction. Besides my legs swelling because I was wearing RIDING BOOTS to run around and pack up sold auction items, and wandering the streets of Seattle afterwards because I forgot where I parked (that is a first) it was a blast. Was helped by Seattle's finest homeless folk with the car hunt. Very nice. And, helped me get the big-butted white minivan out of a tight spot. That is where it pays to be a very tall woman. I don't generally get messed with. Re: museum.... if you are in Seattle, I highly recommend a visit to this stellar place, which has become one of my new favorites! www.wingluke.org
3. Slowly things are blooming on the farm. Forsythia and the plum trees are the first to show. (And of course daffodils)
4. Have not been hearing from Mae as much as I usually do. There is a good reason for that. On her way to visit me during spring break with her horses, one flipped out in their trailer and tore part of her hoof off trying to climb the wall. Not pretty. She has a long recovery (horse, not Mae) and all extra moments are taking care of the horse or finding a better horse trailer.
5. Had a toilet explode downstairs. And, it was not a clean toilet. We don't need to say more, other than there was a strong smell of bleach for a day after. I need to replace this bathroom. But am waffling on whether to move it up my priority list. Rose was an immense help running around getting me things as I swore 25 cent words and snarled. She said I was not nice. Welllllll, I was standing in sewage in bare feet. See, another good point to being married. I didn't have to do this before! Thank you kids dad for all the times you did. I feel your pain, now. I can think about it and say.....Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. I am cooking my first vegetarian dinner (for kids dad) for Easter. Wish me luck. I am thinking just a big pile of vegetables should do it. The kids and I will enjoy a more delectable assortment of standard easter goodness.

Springtime and the driving is fine

The weather fella says 70 degrees today. Exactly one week ago it snowed. What is up over here?
I am kicking into high overdrive with a zest to work outside (brush the horses! build the raised beds! move compost! brush horses! mow the grass! clean out the garage! move hay! tune up the mower! ) But I must pace myself so I don't end up sleeping in the sun spot on the living room carpet with the cat.

Photo courtesy www.thoughts.com, posted by djk1968

Great Sunflowers and Bees

This year we are going to count bees. Oh yes, some folks count birds, some count homeless people in their cities, we are going to count bees. The great sunflower project has been doing this a couple years... individuals, students and schools sign up... the project sends out free sunflower seeds, you grow 'em, then count bees and send the info back to the mothership.
Since bees are disappearing, which is vital to pollination, which is vital to our plant food source, I thought this would be a blast to join. And subtly educational for my urchins. (But I am not going to mention that part)
Wanna sign up or get info? : http://www.greatsunflower.org
Photo courtesy Leo Porter, www.deviantart.com

Chicken Death

I just read in National Geographic that I cannot call our chicken being 'taken out' by the neighbors uncontrolled dog as Chicken Murder. Murder is only defined as human oriented killing. Hence the title. I don't want anyone calling it the wrong thing. I was not allowed to post the grisly details on here about the demise of our sweet handraised black australorp Florida (Flo ) as per lovely daughter Rose. Suffice it to say, the characters in this story are neighbors, two uncontrolled dogs (pitbull mix and wolf mix), and a fat dog-friendly chicken.
We all know how the story ended. I know how my gun-totin' friends would like me to end it for the dog. This is the careful dance you do with permanent neighbors. I can throw up a fuss (which I did) and report the dog (which I did) but then I have to let it go. It is no good to pit neighbors against each other. Doesn't work very well. And, in essence, they are human and I suppose doing the best they can under their life circumstances. And we all love our dogs, even ones with issues. We had a dog that we put down in Seattle after exhausting all options of training and socialization. He was the best family dog, and loved Rose so deeply, but had been abused as a youngster and had a screw loose with strangers.
The neighbors know the ground they are walking on. I mentioned they could lose their house (some insurance companies do not insure houses with pitbulls or documented aggressive dogs.) I should note that comment about insurance went over with them like a load of bricks. Sometimes my helpful tidbits of information, are not so helpful. We can chalk that up to one of my "put a sock in it" moments.
WELCOME to my neighborhood.

City Girl Ways - Country Livin' Ways

Picture: "I didn't do it, the cat did" and what exactly did I roll in?
Here I am. In the local credit union waiting for the folks who work there to figure out an answer to a question I had. A fellow walks in. Up to the bank teller. Round belly, boisterous voice. "I wanna make a deposit" ( I swear I was not purposely eavesdropping, he was 10 feet away and his voice Boomed) He goes on: I want to put $400 into checking, $400 cash and the rest into my savings. So that would be $582 into savings.
The ol' city girl part of me is flipping out. Shhhh. Omigod, hush about your money amounts! Someone will wait right outside the bank and bonk you on the head and take your $400 bucks... shhhhhh.... shhhhh. Don't say that stuff out loud, whisper, lean over to the teller or write it out on a piece of paper, keep the bank quiet like a library without kids... shhhhhh!
The old old OLD part of me that remembers a quiet community rural life says "Yeehaw, I am home." Where trust is high, talking loud in a bank is maybe unconventional, but not dangerous, kids running around in mud is fine, and we are not all overscheduled and driving like maniacs. Now I just need to find that bumper sticker I remember an old timer had on his car... "I may be slow, but I am ahead of you!"
(No comments about my previous post about getting pulled over for going over the speed limit. Change takes time, and my cars go best about 5-9 miles over the speed limit. UNless it is a school zone or neighborhood, then I am exactly ON)

Kids - Stealing Cheese Crackers

Wilder came home very upset the other day. He told me a new classmate had stolen his cheese crackers that he packed for snack that morning. These are not just basic cheese crackers, my son would DIE for these. They are Cheez-its Duoz-- cheddar and parmesan and he loves cheese. Anything cheese. If I want him to eat something I just put cheese on it. Anyway, he plopped in the car after school ferocious and grumpy. Like he saved it for me! the affront would have happened about 6 hours before I picked him up. Lucky ma, am I, that he saves his grumps for me. We talked a bit, and I asked why he thought this young fella was the guilty one. He said it was because he was "mean. " Knowing that it has taken Wilder a good three months to get a playdate goin' this is not a particularly outgoing school. This new boy has only been present a week and may not have any friends yet. Wilder assured me that he did, and, that he himself was one of them! (Boys~~) I mentioned that sometimes kids are "mean" to defend themselves... if they are unsure, or fearful, or maybe that is all they saw modeled at home.
Wilder came home today and said that he asked this new boy why he was mean. The fellow answered that the kids here were very mean to him. And then he told Wilder that he moved here from California and is in foster care.
There are many reasons that people are unreasonable, rude, or 'mean'. They may just be unreasonable, rude and mean people, or there may be a reason that is not readily apparent.
Sometimes it pays to extend that graciousness to those that you misunderstand.

Neighborliness (Neighborly-ness?)

The youth and I live in an old homestead. 1904-built former orchard and dairy farmhouse. Sometime in the 80's, that property was subdivided into 3 acre lots and sold. In the past 10 years houses have sprouted on those pieces, and folks have moved in. Now, this is just from me reading the plat maps and looking at the tax records. I have not seen it happen, we have only been here 5 months. But that is long enough to become immersed in the neighborhood psyche. Most women here are stay-at-home, and if they are not, the fella definitely runs the roost. Here I am, tall woman who still has her job in the big city moving in without a man by my side. I had forgotten the subtle threat that can be. The men only talk to me when their women are not around, or would truly prefer that they had a male in my house to be able to talk things over with. A gal pal and I would tease that I should wear a t-shirt... I Don't Like Married Men, or So Not Interested in Your Husband to put it out there. It is a small community, and most have not ever come over to say hi. Me being a big blab-head have made a point to say hi to everyone, and I have been over to their places. Hell, in our big city house we got a welcome basket from the neighbors. But I digress. There are three neighbors that are gold, and I have called on in emergencies, but a couple have let me know that they hoped I would take care of the neighborhood troublemaker dogs, being that I have horses and chickens. Because they all LIKE these folks, and since I am new they can throw me under the bus.
And yesterday, I went there. Right under that bus.

Click here!! Someone else's story I have been sharing with everyone who will listen

Or, if you have not heard it yet, it is because "I Never Tell You Anything". Read this, and see if you can keep a straight face. And, as I shared this with my urchins, they realized I am not the only "really weird" mom out there. Yay for me! Click on my blog title...

Nuclear Submarine Base Auction

Why you don't go on the base uninvited .(Photo courtesy www.gzcenter.org)

Mae and I ventured onto the Bangor Submarine base this weekend. For those of you NW news readers... we were not "hiding in the trunk of anyone's car"... my son's school fundraising auction was on base. I was thinkin' that this may not have made the auction a very 'inclusive' event, since not everyone would feel comfortable giving all their home and license information to the auction committee so that they could be admitted on the base.
I was pretty sure this was my only opportunity to see what was behind the razor fencing and bomb barriers. Did you know they have their own McDonald's? And mini-malls? And nightclub/bars? It is like a little city! The auction was fine. It is hard getting used to the lack of parent involvement in everyday school life at this place... as in, I go to the school at least 3 days a week, and only recognized about 9 people at the auction. These parents are not at the school. Our old school I visually knew everyone. The hallways always had parents walking up and down, volunteering all over the place. Another adjustment for me. "Stay out of our children's education" HAHAHAHA. Not really going to happen, from this gal. I bid on the fundraiser items for the school-- and tried to win the "4 young Navy men for 4 hours" donated by the commander of one of the subs..figuring they would be quick at digging out the barn, setting my new fence posts, and leveling the arena (area)...but the bidding went over my limit! Afterwards, we decided to go out. The night was young, we didn't have our kids to get home to, the horses were fed. Headed out to old Silverdale. New Silverdale is basically one big strip mall, all built on farmland in the past 30 years. Old Silverdale has leaning buildings and a strange mixed-use feel to it. We parked behind the restaurant/bar with the flashing lights and boom, boom of music. Walked up to the front door and heard they were playing "pass the duchy on the left hand side", realized we could have given birth to the clientele (age-wise) and walked across the street to the tilting, leaning late 1800's with the rusty fella's smokin' out front. Walked in, past the pool table and the people leaning on the bar. The three person band was playing my fave song from Stevie Ray Vaughn (Vaughan?) so we plopped down in our heels and fancy jackets and had a beer.
The folks were friendly, the music dandy, and the pool table was not crowded --that is all I need for a good night! After drinking my usual 1/2 beer, we went for dessert, talked fine cheese, and got up too early the next day for work.

I have something veeery inportant to say (daughter's blog note)

Ok, this is Rose and I have a comment to make about my mom's most resent post. the post was the one about how lucky she was and how wonderful I am and yea... AWKWARD! I mean seriously, all me and my friends did was make a poem out of random words and this magazine thing called a zine that my mom is now obsessed about. The only fabulous thing about it was how fun it was (for me!!!) and some peoples poems. NOTE: I have genius artsy writer friends who are amazing writers and draw-ers. Another good thing was the coffee my mom got for me and our carpool afterwards (thank you mumsy). Now, after all that blabbing, I have an actual point. And that is... (drum roll) YOU ARE EMBARRASSING MADRE!!!! That's it :)

Lucky, lucky day

One day.
Three things:
1. Kids: 8th grade girls can be amazing. Or, at least I will vouch for the 9 I saw go to the Hugo House for a writing workshop today. I feel spectacularly grand that one of these gals is related to me.
2. Beauty: The sky on the way home on the ferry had every color of grey, and blue. It was stormin' far off, and overhead a snap, a slide of blue. The water slapped the side of the ferry hard, but the boat did not rock. The sun caused the top of the water to fragment in endless triangles of dark and light. Always moving, undulating. I sat on the ferry thinking how lucky I am to see this.
3. We moved into our house in the fall. Tonight, as I tucked Wilder in, we were overwhelmed with the sound of frogs lookin' for love in the wetlands. We have decided to catch a frog, although neither one of us has ever done this. Wilder says we need a net with wee holes. I am thinking we just need to be quick. What A Cool Sound! (Of course, in a month if this goes on and on and gets louder I may not be waxing poetic about the cute little froggies)

Feisty - Dogs in the Road

Why do I have a pic of kids as soldiers? That is a very good question, and obviously this will be one of those cranky missives that may or may not connect the dots. Plus I am heavily caffeinated this morning.
Yesterday I managed to miss all the ferries over to work. (or, I missed the ferries that would allow me to get to work on time.)
So I had to drive around Puget Sound, it takes about an hour and a half. Around Bremerton the cars were all stopping with flashers on. I was thinking babies ducks? (too early in the year) Deer? (someone would have "quietly" leveled them with a shotgun).. when I got closer it was a black dog wandering aimlessly across the highway lanes. Many people pulled over trying to catch the dog, and I thought of those stories where people run in front of a train to get their pets. They die, the pets are fine.
Even though I was running late, my inclination was to pull over, too. It was an auto pilot response, not really a rational one. Why is helping a dog that actually seemed to be doing just fine and looked a bit on the pitbull breed side such an auto "HELP" response, but something geographically far-away like genocide or starvation open for extensive discussion with moral implications, political partisanship and inaction so much easier? It is easy for me to pull over and save a dog. (or get hit trying) but it is not easy to help a whole country or even a group of people that may not be "like me" or believe in the same things I do. Especially if I felt like I don't know the 'whole story' or 'the real truth'. Well I am beginning to think that is B.S.

OH, and I am going to start saying I am "passionate" about things... not "feisty" or even "argumentative." (My board of directors is not going to have an easy time with me today... please send them your kind thoughts and best wishes)
Photo Courtesy AP Wire, "DRC Child Soldiers"

Help. Blog Layout.

Hey skilled folks out there. Tell me how to get the pics to line up nicely with text? Anyone?

Lucky Days 2

Old Happy Dog Dancin' in the Snow.

The two workhorse vehicles around the place. And the one fluffy ornament dog. The van odometer just rolled past 100,000! Thanks big-butted white minivan! (note cop -magnet truck in the background)

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Loveliness in the house during the wintertime

Lucky Day Pictures

Pic: Two boys in their new stalls. Alternate title: "Feed Me"































Pic: Guard Dog with chickens. Alternate title: Which is more of a chicken, the white fluffy thing or the tubby girls?







Pic: Sunrise this morn. (Can't quite capture the "Red in morning, sailors warning" of the moment)

Speeding Ticket, or not

I wish I had a pic of this one. It crossed my mind after to ask the officer if it was okay if I took a picture.
So, good buddy Colleen came over yesterday. We all decided to head up to Sequim to see what was up there. On the way up we were catching up and telling stories. She asked what I was reading and I went off on a tangent about "A Year in the World" by Frances Mayes. About how she seemed to have issues with large americans touring abroad, and how her language was somewhat snotty. And that her pic did not make her look like a svelte European inspired woman. She looked a bit large and american, so maybe there was a bit of self non-love goin' on. And then, the book had the most amazing descriptions about food! Things that I would not really consider eating I was hungering for late at night when reading this book! She and her husband are foodies, and she is an excellent writer about food. So Colleen was mentioning that the weight comments were more the authors issue that were shining through in her writings...
In the midst of all this book talkin' with my gesturing I saw a white police car on the left. Well, I had my cruise control on the speed limit since the truck isn't a quick and slick wee speedster, and gets about 14 mpg, so I was not worried. Next thing I know those pretty glittering police lights are pulling me over. Dang! Dang! Dang! In all my story telling I must have missed a speed sign.
And then, Rose tells me she is not wearing a seatbelt. WHAT?!?!?! Double Dang twice! I figure I am doomed.
Roll down my window, put my face on, hand the officer my driver's license. As usual, he asks in that special policeman voice "Do you know why I pulled you over...?" I said no. He said I was going 58 in a 45. I expressed shock. He said he clocked me three times. I said I did not know the limit changed. He started getting that blustery "you callin' me a liar" tone and said there were seven signs saying 45 mph . I widened my eyes and said I was certainly not doubting that he clocked me at that speed I just didn't see those signs and I was sorry. I had my cruise control set at 55. He said my tires may be off then, since he clocked me going faster. He asks for the usual registration and proof of insurance. I start digging around in my purse first. Then the glove box. I have these things because I had to change all the info when we moved. But could I find them? No. So the officer went off to his car to check my license info. Colleen, Wilder, Rose and I were tearing through every part of my purse and the car. I could find nothing. Nothing. OH GOD I AM DOOMED.
Mr. Officer comes back, and faces me in the window. I peep out at him. He turns his body to face the oncoming traffic. I remember all those accidents where police get hit by other people driving by, so I asked him if I pulled over enough for him to stand safely. He said yes.
I told him I couldn't find my registration of proof of insurance. He stood back from the window and took the grumpy police stance. "Did you know that is $550 for no proof of insurance and $100+ for no registration?!!" " Do you even HAVE insurance?!" I told him I was probably the most overinsured person he has met. He said how would anybody know I was insured if I got in an accident?? I assured him that if I was in an accident, those insurance companies are pretty savvy at finding out who is insured. And I think I said I was sorry, that I thought they were all in the car. He handed me back my license, and said to be careful and watch my speed.
I drove off with NO TICKET.
I have no idea how that happened. He did not see Rose's lack of seatbelt. (she put it on while we were sitting there).
I am still a bit stunned. That was at least an $800 ticket.

Photo courtesy http://www.usbr.gov/lc/hooverdam/police/trafficstop.html

Seattle Primer - somewhat rant-y

I was rather fond of this response I gave to someone thinking of moving to Seattle and looking for hip and affordable. It was before I left Seattle, and I see in here a bit of WHY I left Seattle....

"Hip and affordable in Seattle. Hmmmmm. Well should start out that there are no real ghetto places in Seattle... compared to other cities. It is a pretty homogenous group with an enormous amount of fierce individualism thrown in. There is probably no street in Seattle that I would not live, although some lean more toward owning a car alarm, not walking your dog at 1 in the morning in the park or making sure your front door is locked. The most ethnically diverse areas are still the central area, international district, and White Center (not yet swallowed up and annexed by the city of Seattle, so still 'cheap') and can be a blast. Some folk are flipped out by the central district, since in white white Seattle it has more of a color range to it's residents... but it is becoming completely gentrified and losing a bit of it's character. But then much of Seattle is losing it's character.... but I digress. Since you said hip: I am thinking you would be fond of (the old) Fremont, Ballard, Columbia City, Capitol Hill and parts of West Seattle. Queen Anne is another hill in Seattle that some may consider hip, I think it has gone beyond that due to being way too expensive and a little high on the 'aren't we lovely' scale. If you mean hip as kinda a self-centered uptight way.. you would probably like the eastside as in Bellevue, Redmond, Kirkland, or the lovely gem of an island a 30 minute ferry boat ride way-- Bainbridge Island. Good for you to moving to Seattle with so many others: Here is your damn seattle primer: You gotta recycle (really, you will be fined), don't jaywalk (you will be ticketed), you gotta be pc, if you are a baseball fan and go see the Mariners...you need to sit on your rear and cheer (don't jump up! heavens! don't yell! oh no!) during baseball games so the people behind you don't get there panties in a wad because they paid good money for season tickets and don't want you jumping up in front of them during an amazing play, or even being too loud, and no, they won't tell you directly by leaning forward the 3 inches to your back... they will go get the usher who will tell you to hush (oh, no, I am not bitter), so that being said, true Seattle-lites have a bit of a passive aggressive thang going on... and if you stay you will learn the 30 second super-nice attitude to all things and the ability to committee meeting things to death --"the Seattle way" . Please come with the ability to make decisions rapidly, and speak your mind. We need more of that so if you can get through your first two very grey winters which tends to suck the everlovin' life out of some folks... welcome!
Photos: Wilder and I waving a ship with Rose on it heading to camp through the Chittenden locks
Heading down down underground to the express lanes under I-5

Kids - Hansel and Gretel and our little Nastie

Wilder got a part in a local play. He got the role of a Nastie. The hench-assistants of the witch. His big part is "Slugs! Oh, Yum, Yum, Yum, ... and dot dot dot" These are the creatures that capture Hansel and Gretel. He is dramatically ready for it with a gruff voice and scary moves. He says he will have stage fright, but I am thinkin' the kids have a flair for the dramatic and he will love it under the lights with the audience.
I have to work, but there is a full contingent that will report and have pictures of this event!

A perk to Outside of Seattle living - Turkey, no... quail, no.... pheasant!

Looked up and out of the window of my room as I am logging onto the computer. And there is a spectacular bird looking back at me. We were both a bit startled, but not like the ET movie type startle where we both scream. It ran off, I went looking for my camera... for next time.
The kids and I crack up at the 'bobble headed' wee quails that look a little bumbling and clueless as they bump into each other not knowing where to go when surprised. But dang those guys are cute!

Being Sick

Fell asleep at 8 pm on Saturday, woke up on Monday morning at 7:30. That was a doozy of a bug. I don't recommend any of you get it, so stay healthy, wash your hands, stay away from my little sneezers and coughers. (What do I always say over and over and over to them........ Wash Your Hands, Cover Your Mouth When You Cough) I know that will be deep in my children's pysche when they are big 'uns, but boy, right now, it seems like I am talking to a snot-filled wall.
Stay healthy everyone!! Don't be around me!! And it is sweet that I have friends willing to drive to the ferry, sit on the ferry, drive off the ferry, drive to my house, just to bring me a cup of broth/o.j. or somesuch. I am really not that far from either neighbors, drive-through coffee, or a store.
An upside? If you are addicted to coffee, the forced 36 hour hiatus will knock that craving right out of your system.
Photo - Wilder at the Best Corn Maze Ever. A giant Washington State located between Everett and Snohomish.

Compadres & Kids - and whiskey voiced women

We shall title this first photo: Chief Seattle's Revenge.. the Casino

And the second glam shot is me quickly photo-ing the ultrasound machine at the doc's office

Called the kids dad this morning to tell him how to plant flowers. Sigh. 48 year old man... does not know how to put a 4' square plant in the ground. Just one more learning episode for him, I expect great results and a stunning garden at his place. When I began talking he said "Whoa, have you been drinking whiskey and smoking all night?" I have one of those colds that starts in your vocal cords, so your voice sounds nothing like it usually does. Note: I am a lame drinker, we tease that I am a "cheap date" since I rarely finish a glass of wine or beer. The cold came from the kids, who sweetly shared it with me after they were sick all week. My mantra of " I Will Not Be Sick" obviously did not work.
The pic of the ultrasound office is my little moment of "I am now aging" . How many years did I push this body of mine and ignore what it was saying back? I don't get to ignore it anymore, it starts yelling at me and so do my doctors. I may just be one of those cranky, eccentric, stubborn, know-it-all women as I grey. Yay! When I was young, I used to want to live in the south, just so I could be eccentric when I age, and have it be socially acceptable. Now as I age, I don't give a rip if I am socially acceptable (oh, and how this bothers my daughter!!). I am going to start the eccentric older lady club of the NW. All you need is an opinion that you are willing to argue about endlessly (and there is no requirement that it is based in fact... or "correct") and willing to listen to other people argue their points without resorting to physical violence or throwing things. And no yelling. I think throwing butter cookies or shortbread would be fine, however. I like those.