Hermitgirl of the Mountains

consolations for an empty lap

2011-10-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

the air that is warm on my arms seems
chilled where it touches my freshly bared thighs
my living heater is heeding a more important call than comfort
can opener in action
a few stray bits of fur float down
left by his passage
more lonely than me
they too are discarded, a new feeling,
less terrible than the shivering fate
that awaits them
huddled in corners
clinging to memories
of silken tongue washings
and a warm body that held them.
collecting dust
the last sound they hear will be
a vacuum cleaner.
the can opener was worse.
i am lucky.
my furry blanket will come back for me
my body then acclimates
perhaps i don't need a substitute blanket
his striped and spotted coat is fickle
like dappled shadows dancing
i smell his fishy breath returning
but the burn in my chest proves
i love my cat

Some Things

2011-08-17T08:43:00.000-07:00

Just some things one thinks about at 12:48 AM

Pheonix's contributions: I am very proud of my hunter boy. I appreciate him contributing to household expenses by catching and eating mice. But which is worse: a steaming pile of bloody mouse guts (and often other less delectable parts, usually feet and/or tail ) or a mouse hiding, out of sight but not sound, gnawing and chewing incessantly and loudly, and leaving little turds hither and yon in one's abode? Cat food bill (gladly paid), or valiant killer? Is the latter an oxymoron? Is the whole dilemma an oxymoron??

Fridge lights: I'm sure I am far from the first person to ask this question, but I still seek the answer- Why does my my fridge have a light while my freezer does not? A conspiracy, I'm sure.

Walking (jumping out of bed), refined ankle story: Ah, a two parter. I woke up to the dogs barking as if the hounds of hell were at our doorstep. Peering sleepily ( and perhaps a bit disgrunteledly ) out my window I saw a woman taking pictures of our house, from her car, in our driveway. I leaped out of bed to defend my territory, completely forgetting that I had a broken leg and ankle. Le ouch. (And oh boy is THAT another story)

Part dos ( I wanted to type duex, or however the french spell "2", but I am taking spanish now and must remember that "je suis" is now "yo soy") anyway! Part dos: My new "how I broke my leg" story is this: There were bobcat kittens in a den halfway up an avalanching and fire lit cliff, mewling in terror, their mother crumpled in singed death at the bottom, and I had to climb up and save them. It was all happily ever after except for the part where I lost my footing and slid into a rock crevasse, the meaty splintering snapping crunch of my bones breaking echoing through the valley. The kittens were fostered and counseling was available for them. I am currently gimp hopping away from my crutches a few minutes at a time.

Sleep paralysis: It is a real, physical, medically acknowledged phenomenon. It could happen to you!!! I hope it doesn't though. You wake up- or think you do, anyway. Your dark room looks exactly as it should. But something is wrong. Not the fact that you cant move; your arms are tied down in straps of lead weighted molasses, yes, but far worse is the sense of a presence. It may be perched on the foot of your bed, or it may be whispering by your head. You try with all your might to reach for the light, dispenser of boogie monsters, but you can't, and you hear voices whispering.

"She can't!" "She can!" "She can't!" "She can!" They whisper but it is loud and scratchy.

You finally CAN, turn on the light at least.

The next time, you just hear just one throaty whisper in the blackness. "Don't tell her."

When you think you're reaching for the light that is inexplicably yanked from your grasping fingers, you feel something close around your throat and you scream- a real scream, that jerks you awake and finally frees you completely to grasp for the light that has not actually gone anywhere ( during that second you are talking out loud, self reassurances, like a nervous whistling Ichabod Crane) and then there is false sunlight, beautiful human made light, killing the darkness, and you put the wall to your back and face the room.

Haha, silly girl, you think. But you leave the light on until the sun breaches the horizon.

Anyway, I think parenthesis are the great crutch of literature (or maybe just my crutch, haha, see how I exploit them?).

As George W. Bush said, "I don't mind a little self defecating humor". He really did; I heard it. On NPR. And you know they swore to "treat evil people and republicans equally". So I will continue to exploit parenthesis, to swap "bien" with "bueno", to answer the call of my bleeding heart syndrome and hop along gimpily, and, hopefully, create a cure for sleep paralysis.

It will be the best thing since sliced bread. Which, by the by, I have been doing. Slicing my own bread, that is. But it is worth it, 'cause it's a sesame french roll and it makes for some dang good sandwiches. I didn't make the bread. But I would have if it wasn't $1.60 at wally world.

You know it's bad when houses for sale use " only 8 miles from costco" as a feature. But like my wallmart reference, it happens, despite the despicableness. I saw it on the 'net, so it must be true. I cannot believe I just jokingly compared the 'net to NPR. Revoke my literacy license (I have one, I can tell the difference between "their, there, and they're").

Yo soy... tired now. I think that's plenty of stuff.
Love to all, sleep good (ignoring the ideas about all the mites in a person's bed).

Be The Best You Can Toad... Or Frog?

2011-07-26T12:06:00.000-07:00

I had watched my last netflix* and was wondering what the hell to do next when I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Not another mouse, I hoped. I've been mouse free for several days now. One of the giant beetles that have been crashing around in here? That seemed more likely, as I could now detect a repetitive thumping to the movement. It's been so hot by day that at night I keep my door open well past midnight, hoping to catch and store some cool night air for the next day, albeit with no screen door to serve as bouncer for the unwelcome masses. And the masses abound. Shiny green beetles, dressed for a rave, bumbling heavy set beetles in pinstripes crashing into things and looking for the brandy and cigar crowd, and dragonflies of the night dressed in their delicate diaphanous lace looking for a date with my desk lamp.

But when I looked into the shadows, there was the last thing I'd expected, nor would have even guessed. An adorable prince of a frog, though I doubt he was looking for kisses. More likely a way out. I scooped him up and plopped him in a cup, probably ALSO not what he was looking for. The poor thing was covered in cat fur, a fate unavoidable in my castle. Of course I wanted to keep him; visions of terrariums swam in my head, lush, green, moist sanctuaries for the osmosis clad crowd. I certainly have plenty of food flying around to serve up as delicacies for his type. But hey, wait, I'm a woman in a wheelchair who struggles just to get in and out of her front (and only) door- not exactly his type. Besides, what do I know about keeping amphibians? ( See that right there, I didn't have to try to identify him as frog or toad, though I'm pretty dang sure he, or she, was the former.)

Anyway, I had to rinse him off, so I put a little water in the cup and swirled him around with no regard for his dignity at all. After the dry spin cycle I put a cover over the cup and sat to ponder. While he hopped at the ceiling of his impromptu quarters, I had to strategize. It's only 6 feet from my door to the closest patch of garden. Just six short feet of igneous ( or is it metamorphic? I need to get back in school) scorria the size of misshapen golf balls, hardly wheelchair accessible, or flip flop accessible, for that matter. How to get him to safety?

I formulated a plan. I'd need to go with my crutches, obviously, but that meant no hands free. So how to carry him? I don't have one of those little dog carrier/ purse things, sized for frogs or otherwise. I suppose I could have substituted my purse, but for one thing, it was full, and even if I dumped it out there would be leftover debris to ruin his fresh bath. Besides, my purse hangs just under my arm and I wouldn't want to squish him OMG in my armpit. That would be one crappy way to go. So, and this sounds TERRIBLE, I put him in a plastic ziploc baggie. It was only for two minutes, max. I made sure it was way poofed up like the new packaging alternative to styrofoam peanuts, and put him in the pocket of my hawaiian shirt. I hopped out to the garden, gravel slipping, sliding, and churning on the tiny slope - everything takes on completely different proportions when you're "differently- abled"- and balanced carefully while I gently shook him out into the grass and sleeping flowers.

I made it safely back to my house and hope he made it to his. Kiss or no kiss, likewise with princes, it was a happy ending. Even if it took an hour. I did the best I could, and that's that.

Except it wasn't an ending. I KID YOU NOT, as I was typing this, I happened to see a spot of movement off to my left.
A frog.
This girl needs some bouncers. Not a screen door bouncing off my wounded leg or crashing against my wheelchair. Air conditioning would be good. Haha, nah, I much prefer the sweet fresh summer air. I suppose for now this club is open till last call in autumn.

*Don't get me started on my "insta watch netflix options". The really good stuff is almost always only on disc. The boredom may have surpassed the pain now.

Nothin' Exciting To Report

2011-07-25T21:57:00.000-07:00

There was an awesome thunderstorm tonight. We even lost power for about 15 minutes, which is rather laughable because back in Cali it would have been at least 4, 6 hours... or days. It was loud and bright and the dogs were terrified (poor things) but at least I know I don't have to worry about my garden getting watered ( my kitties were very brave, Pheonix took a nap while cannons boomed overhead). I spend about 2 or 3 hours outside my door every evening, enjoying the summer breeze and the sunsets, but tonight I had to watch nature's cinema, including hail ( in July!!) from inside.

Oh, here's a gorgeous picture of my foot. It's only about half that swollen now, and it was twice that before this photo. I had a cabbage patch kid foot:

There was something else... but I can't remember so it must not be noteworthy. Yep, like I said, not much happening here. Here's a little something I jotted the other day- please ignore anything that sounds whiny. Pain doesn't make the best narrator.

"My outside enjoyment/ adventures consist of a 20 by 4 foot strip of concrete. I am reading 5 books concurrently. I am writing, drawing, counting hours, stretching out the time, longer every day, pushing the pain back. Testing out my crutches, at which I am currently far from adept. My internet, usually a great source of escapeism, is down, and who knows when the repair man cometh?

Boredom is a competitor for the pain, and the 3rd runner up is the lack of independence. When can I eat? The guilt builds as I bark backseat cooking orders to my mother, captive nurse. She may be more captive by my needs than I am by my wheelchair. It is summer and I am missing it. I can't fill the bird feeder. I can't check my garden. But oh, so negative. Beyond the pain and dependence and - gasp - lack of internet, lol, there are many positives. Some wonderful get well cards, which I hadn't even expected, the bright future of school, and the extreme generosity and help and caregiving."

End quote. It got a little rocky when I got an infection in the incision. WARNING: Gross leg picture! I won't tell you the gory details, and it doesn't matter anyway. I got some antibiotics and everything was A-OK in just two days.

My mom took this picture of me (below), and said, "this is what happens when you have surgery". I thought, what, you turn into a stir crazy lunatic? I think I would make a good poster figure for hospitals across the nation, don't you?

My foot was BIGGER THAN MY HEAD! LOL. Well, it sure felt that way. And I'm still supposed to keep it above my heart. I thought size 10 was big before, whew. Ooooh, wait till you see my boot. The only shoe a girl can wear for a fabulous foot like this. It's very Frankenstein-ian. Maybe it can be a fashion statement- heck, I don't have bolts in my neck but I do have screws in my leg! Oh dear, if one or two get loose, along with this photo, I'm in trouble. Or maybe it's too late already. Cabin fever without even being snowed in.

Must stop rambling, no witty final remark I'm afraid, 'cause like I said... nothin' exciting.

Broken Ankle X-Rays: Post- Op

2011-07-18T21:43:00.000-07:00

Some pretty pictures for you!

That is inside of me. That is my new leg. Had my post op review last Friday, and the nurse took off my soft outer cast, slapped a bandage over the staples, and gave me a "walking boot". A torture apparatus hidden by deceptive soft material and velcro straps. When the nurse bent my ankle up to a 90 degree angle to fit in the "boot" (iron maiden for my leg) it didn't hurt much at first- a quick gasp of pain was all for the first 15 minutes. What had hurt worse was the swabbing of my cut and staples, like I suddenly had a million new nerve endings in my leg and even the brush of a downy feather would have made me grit my teeth. But I got my boot, an extremely brief chat with the Doc, about 3 minutes, and then it was off to the payment and checkout counter.

That's when the band started tuning up, stealing my breath and blurring my vision with involuntary leakage. The Snazzy True Blue Screws played a good set that day, but what really got me down was learning that somewhere between 8 and 12 weeks after my surgery ( that's 6 1/2 to 10 1/2 weeks from now) they're going to cut me open again and remove the biggest screw. Apparently if I try to walk with out my special boot I can snap the damn screw, so to be truly ambulatory the biggest screw has got to go. I'll have seven left, lucky number seven.

I can put pressure and some weight on my foot, but I am NOT to walk without the boot until after the screw. I'm mostly still wheelchair bound anyway- my foot is still supposed to stay up as much as possible. Plus my ankle is sprained as well as some big tendon that's torn- I asked the doctor what it was called and he even spelled it out but he talks way too quick. He records his session notes on a little voice recorder, and he speaks so fast I told him he should be an auctioneer. Another doctors visit this friday, when hopefully he isn't running an hour and a half behind schedule so I can get a little more time for detailed info, and then I'll be free of him (hopefully) for 6 to 10 weeks.

Well, thats the boring story and fascinating pictures. Next time I'm putting up pictures of my stapled skin!I I'll chat first so you don't have to scroll down to see them if you don't want to. I ( well actually, my mom) re-bandaged it this morning and I almost lost my breakfast. Oh boy :D!

Broken Ankle X-Rays: Pre-Op

2011-07-13T13:59:00.000-07:00

The pictures are from before my surgery, basically just look at the skinny bone. I wish I had an X-Ray of it PRE break to compare, because it doesn't look all that bad to my untrained eye. The story is a direct transcription from "The Broken Ankle Book" in which I keep track of my pills, pain, and travails. The following excerpt is the 30 hour time period encompassing the immediate before, during (obviously was not awake for that) and after hours of my surgery. AND before you get all judgemental, because I am going to be completely honest, I never took the prescribed amount of Hydrocodone (20mg every three hours) because I was trying to be "tough" instead of a "druggie". So if it seems like I took a lot of pills to you, ONE DAY after surgery resulting in EIGHT screws and a plate in my leg... Please do come over and let me take a sledge hammer to your ankle after which we can discuss the merits of painkillers. I mean that with the same purely good intentions as the people who warn me about addictions and tsk tsk at my needing anything stronger than ibuprofen at all. :) Oh, and by the way, while I "censored" the swearing, I said I'd be honest and I meant it.

10:15pm thursday, july 7th
No food allowed after midnight so I ate a huge dinner. No Ibuprofen allowed either so I'm taking 10mg Hydrocodone (HC) instead of 5. Not just because of the Ibu- a mouse just jumped onto my wrapped up ankle and I instictively jerked and twisted my ankle to get it off. Oh S#$^ the pain. Maybe I at least undid any knitting my bones have done in the 3 days since the 3 breaks. Am scared that I am already healing wrong. One hour 15 minutes 'till I cant eat or drink anything but clear liquids. After 9am not even a drop of water allowed.

Surgery is at 3pm but we have to get to hospital by 1. Procedure is an hour and a half and supposedly I can check out by 6pm. HC is not only good pain relief but great for anxiety- I may be getting a plate and screw in my foot (aw, how naive) but I'm not even scared. We'll see how lovely I feel this weekend though, eh? Must note pill count throughout recovery- no addictions for me, betch. (Please watch the "Shoes" video by Kelly on youtube for correct pronunciation and usage of this hilarious word.)

8 am, Friday, July 8th
15mg HC and a gatorade to last me until 6pm. AM SO DAMN HUNGRY ALREADY.

7 pm
Home. 8 screws and a plate in ankle. No food yet. A little sleepy but will eat 1st. Must keep foot above heart for 72 hours- 5pm Monday. :( At least am totally numb from a pain block they gave me and amazingly painless.

10 pm
Numbness fading pain intruding... a lot... taking a 10mg HC and hitting the hay.

11:15 pm
O god the pain sleep impossible taking 15mg HC can feel every screw in bone trying to breathe except then I would cry. O god OW O F@#$ OW O GOD F@#$%

11:45 pm
Still O F@##$% If this monstrous pain doesn't subside in another half hour then F@#$% the rules I'm either having another pill or a F@#$%^& beer. Maybe both.

12:05 am
OK I cried a tiny bit. The HC is making me sleepy, as is the time, and the pain is no longer crying pain. It's as painful as you can get without actually hitting the crying level. It is bite your lip try to breathe pain. It is rub your face because you don't know how much more you can take pain. It is there-is-a-giant-metal-screw-through-my-ankle FOR REAL pain. So what if the HC makes me sleepy because this pain would only let me sleep if I was dead.

12:20 am
OMFG I forgot I can take ibuprofen now ooooh S@#$$. O GOD CRY I can't get to it F@#$%^ me.

12:35 am
OK had to cry for about 10 minutes. Managed to move easy ( haha not so easy under the circumstances) chair to get ibuprofen. Got ice for foot. Back to lip biting stage but I can mostly breathe.

12:52 m
I know it's too soon for hope of ibu kicking in but now I'm getting stabbing throbs up my shin. Also I keep realizing I'm tensing my foot and I CANNOT stop. Every time I relax I find it tensed again.

2 am
OK hell with it I'm "sleeping" in my chair tonight. Think I just got about 45 minutes. OW crap I'm taking another 10mgs. It's been 3 hours so F@#$% it.

3 am
Pain scale...16 or 17 out of 10. Tired as hell. Can't sleep. I can close my eyes and "listen" to the pain, though. A sharp searing here, a dull throbbing there, a dancing mix of the two across my ankle. The searing shoots up my shin like a squealing saxophone or an 80's hairband vocalist, the bass thuds in my foot and the dancing mix is more like drums-maybe cymbals wrapped in a layer of felt. A 3 piece band of pain.

THE SNAZZY TRUE BLUE SCREWS

Here is a visual I made to go with the sounds.

3:30 am
That's right. Am taking another 10mg before it gets worse again. Pain, pills, and insomnia. What better party could a girl ask for? Why, music, of course. Her own personal live band, playing very, very locally.

4:19 am
Will try one more time to sleep in bed. Luck to me. Got hour and half ish of sleep (not all at once) in chair.

6:09 am
Pain woke me took 10mg of HC, attempt sleep.

7:30 am
Got an hour of pain laced sleep, had to pee, 10 more mgs. Mom's making me pizza and Ima have a beer with it DAMMIT. And an Ibuprofen.

9:08 am
20mg HC. 1st time I take actual prescribed dose.

10 am
One ibuprofen.

11:47 am
Got another hour and half of sleep. Pain worsening. 10 minutes and and I can take my next dose, 1 minute till I start crying. However I might have slept longer if neighbor hadn't come over calling, "helloooo, hellooooo". I didn't answer.

Moral of the story: actually I kind of hate projected morals, I say get whatever YOU want out of something, so this moral is the lesson that I learned, and you don't have to take anything from it at all. What I came away with from that most painful night of all the moments since the break, even more painful than the actual break, is to follow doctor's orders. He SAID that the first 3 days would be the worst and that's WHY he prescribed what he did. By taking only two thirds of the HC (85mg out of 120) I did not get a badge of honor, a purple heart or silver star or least of all quicker healing. I got precious little rest- one of the most important factors in healing, and agony that stretched minutes into days. I did get a pretty picture and a cool band name. But when the doctor says drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest, you don't sprint a mile with no water. Five days later and the pain is less; so are the pills. There IS no "tough" or "druggie" the day after surgery, there is conscious, careful, thoughtful healing, and a great thankfulness to those who help you through it all.

Next time I promise much happier update, PLUS the exciting "after" X-Rays! Pretty Cool!!!!

Yes it was just a fall. Ker- snap!

2011-07-06T11:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, listen up peeps. Something like 60% of deaths in the home are caused by FALLING DOWN. All I did was break my ankle in 3 places- so really, I'm lucky that I didn't hit my head or neck and DIE. I'm sorry I don't have some awesome story about how I was mountain climbing and I slipped, my foot went into a crevice sideways and snap goes the ankle. (And yes that will be my story from now on.) Please witness exhibit A:

This is the heel of the shoe I was wearing. See how the right side is waaaay more worn down than the left? Thats the side my ankle rolled on. I clipped a big rock on that side and slid down the rock, which started the ankle roll. Then onward into the loose gravel that took my falling twisting momentum and curved may ankle deeper sideways into the rocks until a nice gooey crunching sound happened and I was on the ground. It sounded just like when Pheonix is eating a mouse; skin, tissue, bones and all in each bite. Crunch crunch smack.

Exhibit B: These shoes were, obviously, past their prime. They were extremely loose and my feet were always sliding all over the place in them anyway. Lastly, (and apparently walking and texting is actually illegal in some city, I forget where) I was looking at my phone.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, let us review. Of the five defendants; Big Rock, Gravel, Bad Shoe, Phone, and Miss Fortune, who plead not guilty, has the jury reached a decision? What's that? A MISTRIAL!?! An accident you say? Unable to prosecute Miss Fortune, sister of Lady Luck, due to clauses in her job description? Then this court has no choice but to dismiss the case. WHAM! *Banging Gavel*

Moral: accidents can happen from a collection of seemingly small and insignificant variables coming together just wrong. Ah well, spilled milk and all. I'm not in much pain unless I touch the dang leg anywhere from the knee down. I have to say I wish it happened in winter, but I plan to be on my crutches ASAP. I ain't missin' my summer! I'm supposed to keep my leg up for 48 hours, so only 12 more to go. The wheelchair is pretty handy though. And tomorrow it's off to the doc to see if I get to have some metal in there. "Ah vill be da tam-en-atah" (bad Arnie impression translating to "I will be the terminator"). LOL. Updates soon, and hopefully some pics of my x-rays, too! Squeamish be warned.

Sugar Pie Honey Bunch

2011-06-30T20:21:00.000-07:00

You know that I love you, I can't help myself... When I see your face I get all choked up inside...
Yes, I almost cried when my boy came home after my trip. I pet about a pound of winter fur off him as hew meowed and purred and rolled all over. Honestly, I could have stuffed a pillow with all that extra fur. My prince, he knows he is loved. But he knows it so well, that I have to tell you a strange story, and a funny one about our reunion.

While I was gone, he was glimpsed only twice. Mom would come over to feed the fish and kitties, and he was never here. In fact, she was worried enough to get a can of cat food ( a treat, he usually has dry food and pack rats, though I'd say he gets about 4 cans a week) and she went looking all over for him, hoping to lure him with the scent. She didn't want to stress me, so she downplayed it a bit, but I did lose his sister when I left for a week. And the day that Genevieve disappeared, I knew in my heart within 5 hours that she was gone, and she was. I'm very aware of my cats patterns, and I know that occasionally Pheonix has a 2 day walk about, so that's what Mom and I were both rooting for.

Now, I'm sure you've heard stories of lost pets traveling thousands of miles to find their human families- this is not what Pheonix did- but still, after six days of being all but nonexistent, the day I flew home he was in back in my house all day. As if he knew I was coming home through some animal sixth sense. I was about an hour later than I thought I would be, and he apparently gave up waiting.... just barely an hour before I got home. I'm sure it's all coincidence, but it's still kind of weird. I went walking around, calling for him- he always comes when he's called if he's in ear shot ( contrary to popular belief, dogs are not the only animal to do so, although cats come to the sound of a can opening as readily as their name) but I didn't find him, so I went home to wait. He came back a few hours later for the aforementioned love fest, but then, after about fifteen minutes of this, he took off outside. I was slightly indignant. Didn't he want to hang out?

Oh my dear sweet baby, you know what he did? He went out and got me a gift rat. The entire time I'm gone, not a single bloody carcass (usually a daily or semi daily event), and as soon he finds me home, he runs out to get me a welcome home present. Yes, a gross one, but still. He really loves me. And he has not left my side since. Including taking up the whole dang bed, a magic trick whose secret is known only 16 pound furry bodies. But hey, if he can make my heart take up too much room in my chest, he can have all the bed space he wants. My spoiled beloved prince booger head.

This one's for you, Robin, thanks for jump starting me ;)

P.S. My trip made me feel as loved as Pheonix. I am so lucky. And I got way yummier meals TO SAY THE LEAST. lol.

I guess jewelry is universal

2011-02-06T11:04:00.000-08:00

Kay, this photo doesn't do it justice, but this is a BEAUTIFUL piece. Silver surrounding a giant hunk of turquoise mixed with lapis and malachite. It's never leaving my body. I'll be buried with it. Nah, that would be wasteful. Besides, I don't want to be buried. Anyhoo, all the jewelry I have is meaningful to me. I almost never buy my own; in fact, my most precious adornments are gifts from loved ones. Mom, sister, Nana, Gromma... is it a female thing? I hate being stereotyped, but... omg I almost forgot to mention the awesome necklace an awesome girl made me. I wear it pretty much every day. It has a tiger's eye in it, a favorite stone of mine. And a .45 shell. It is so... running out of good adjectives here. Don't make me grab my thesaurus. I just never appreciated jewelry as much before. But having it connected to great people adds so much meaning. I'm a lucky one.

Woohoo 47 degrees

2011-02-05T12:11:00.000-08:00

It is so blessedly warm out. I can actually stand outside and not be cold. Last night I had no kitties under my covers. It is just so amazing to not be COLD. The nasty ugly black road ice is dropping from my car. Yesterday I wanted to power hose it off, but it was way too cold to be fiddling with water outside.
Such a difference from tuesday. It was awful driving home from school that night- near white out conditions, ice coating the INSIDE of my windows... it took 80 minutes to make the 45 minute journey home, and I was white knuckled the whole way. I am never going to make it to summer. I want it to be spring RIGHT NOW. Shorts and flip flops. Auuuugh.

Last night my neighbor Ranger and I were at my mom's house. I was coloring a faux stained glass picture for the back of my fish tank and mom was doing needle point. Yeah, I'm 3- "28", and I color. In coloring books. And I like it. Anyway, Ranger asked me how I like hanging out with "older people". My best companions are 50 -60 plus, Ranger being in there somewhere. I said, I love it, even prefer it, except for the hearing problems. For some reason almost every one of them has something wrong with their hearing, which can make for some interesting conversations.

Me: "Mom, do you have any scotch tape?"
Mom: "Wine? The wine's right there."

But that stuff is entertaining. No, I told Ranger, the only times I really don't enjoy are the hour long, boring as hell, discussions about medication. All in technical terms, not, "my pain meds are working" but "have you tried prednisone? It's great but you cant mix it with loratadine. Oh, yes, the whothewhatsenol, that's good but your doctor wont prescribe it with thatotherstuffazine."

I know someday I'll have more intimate knowledge on the subject, but for now im good with : headache? tylenol. sore muscles? ibuprofin. long day at school? coors light.

Gotta enjoy the simplicity where and when I can.

omg ice

2011-01-24T13:01:00.000-08:00

So the ice got its revenge. I was standing one second and in the next the horizon had changed. Oh the pain. My head hit once, rebounded, hit again. But the worst is my arm. Aaaaugh the arm that I messed up before. I am such a complainist but OMG the pain. Ow. I am ready for summer. oh gawd the pain. Pain. From ear and jaw to neck to fingertips. Not cool, man. Not cool. Let's all vote 4 summer. Ouch.

ice ftl

2011-01-22T12:32:00.000-08:00

Ice... sucketh. I chipped at my ice covered driveway with my pick mattock till my hands couldn't clench anymore. It's beautiful out, though. Easily 50 degrees. I sat out in the sun and it was wonderful. Made me some vitamin D. But that darn ice... still learning abut life in snow country. Shovel immediately! Don't let that puffy white snow turn into compacted, slippery ice!!!

(Digression. Some people call that tool a "pick axe", but I promise you it's a pick mattock. Worked better than the baseball bat, but not by much.)

Anyway. I love the heckfire out of school, but I just realized that I miss hermitdom. Being out in the beautiful yard, on a beautiful day, healthy work to do and the only sounds: birds and me. Going to school is dealing with traffic and people everyday. I like it, but I'm still hermitgrrl at heart. Today I' just enjoying the sun, music, driveway clearing, and solitude. But just so you know, when I'm enjoying my solitude, I'm thinking about the good things in my life, and number 1 is all the people I love. I am SO LUCKY. So many loved ones.

(Digression; Take 2: It is so quiet here that an airplane passing overhead wakes me up in the middle of the night. Yowza)

I sincerely hope everyone out there is as lucky, blessed, and happy as I humbly am. Even if you're testing baseball bat vs. pick mattock on your driveway... /salute.

If a Crow can use a crosswalk...

2010-12-24T04:45:00.000-08:00

That should be a joke, but I'm afraid I haven't a punch line for it. Since I've already established that I'm a "well crafted ranter" (oh wait that was my teacher) for animals, a sufferer of Bleeding Heart Syndrome in my own terms, let me tell you: man, do I miss my furry kids. It's been 9 days since I've seen them, 9 days since anyone dragged a string for them or coaxed them out of trees onto their shoulders.

The home trip from CA to AZ has been longer than anticipated thanks to my BHS. 'Course, my traveling companions weren't adverse to the detour, on the contrary actually. It started when we saw a dog limping across the highway. Black with a white ruff, it didn't spare a single glance to the cars honking at it... just stumbled along in a stupor. I demanded we turn around, and the vote was unanimous. When I tried to approach it, it shied away, but I got close enough to see the blood running down its leg. Long story short, we trailed it until it took shelter in a small rock outcropping. Then we called every 411 number we could get our hands on for Humane Society, animal control, etc. No one answered, though I dialed every minute for 16 calls. Mom called 911 and was admonished- not for animals, yo. Not even for a bleeding, dazed, "man's best friend". I get it, I guess. I mean, I'd put my family over my furry kids, as I believe this trip has proved, but I just can't stop caring.

Well, after the calls failed us, we flagged down a car. The driver just happened to have a son on the town council, and that fellow finally got the ball rolling. A guy came out, and from then on it rested in his hands. We did what we could. Where exactly IS the line between human and animal life? Maybe it's different for everyone. But for me... a bloody, shell shocked dog needs a helping hand in SOME form.

When these kittens were born, (in this photo they were less than a day old) I couldn't tear my eyes from them. It's been a year and a half and I still mourn them. Life is precious and beautiful. I have to help where I can. Even if they all died, I did everything I could, because in my opinion, if you do nothing you might as well be hindering.

The manager of the hotel I'm typing in right now cut me $20 bucks slack after he asked why I was traveling and I answered truthfully- I'm a crappy liar. Then I found out his 4 year old cousin was on her 3rd bone marrow transplant for leukemia. I prayed for her. I don't know if it will do a lick of good, but we gotta care. We just have to. It's not what separates us from animals, it's what separates us from a crappy world. I'm sure as heck fire no saint, but in my peasly opinion, we have to care for all life. Because the opposite of life is death.

I guess I mentioned the crow because I believe that animals aren't as different from humans as some would like to believe. They have smarts, and they can suffer. I would make a shitty researcher because I would interfere to help instead of just observing. Those mean birds that kill their own chicks.. I know that's life, but... Hell, Star Trek made it clear that to best observe new civilizations you can watch but not interfere. But just the act of observing something changes it. Anyway.

I guess my sleep deprivation is fumbling my words and their intent like a poorly thrown football that hits the ground instead of getting caught, so I'll stop soon. I just want some answers. I donate to animal saviors whenever I can, (from PETA to WWF) but where were they when this poor dog needed help? I know it's a hard world. If only my heart were as concrete. Every one and every thing dies. I know that. Yet knowing that will never stop me from trying to help. Perhaps that is why I don't have children. BHS may be just as bad a genetic trait as cancer- certainly something I wouldn't want to pass on.

I'm not gonna stop caring though. I can't.

Semester complete

2010-12-09T23:20:00.000-08:00

I got an 85% on my paper. "A well crafted rant". The 30% of my grade paper. 225 points out of 300. Cool. My ego needed that. Actually, I'd prefer a lick on the forehead from Clarence. Animals are medicinal NOT for research but for companionship. They never lie, and their deepest ulterior motive is food. And they never hurt you emotionally, except when they die. PHYSICALLY... I cannot deny that, being a bridge/ transporter/ elevator/ defender against dogs, there may be some scarring. But the love and loyalty is unmatched. Even if they take up the whole dang bed. All 8 pounds of them. It's 8 pounds of pure heart. And soft cozy furry warmth.

What a Day

2010-12-07T20:45:00.001-08:00

It's my big lil' bro's birthday, and my dad had successful surgery. I've been gnawing my nails all day, trying to be big strong etc. Bravado doesn't do much for the appetite though. Or self recriminations. Finals on thursday. The big big 30% of our grade paper was due last week- I have no idea how I did and I don't know if I'll even get more than the final class grade, sans the particulars. I don't feel great about this paper but I still want to know what grade I got. Escapeism ftw. PainterLady told me about this video you can watch on youtube "da vinci machine origami" that illustrates the accuracy and amazing proficiency of this particular surgical device... But if you watch it (there is NO gore btw) I can honestly say that I have crafted, twice in my life, smaller cranes than that. With my bare hands and no glasses, magnifying or otherwise. I was twelve, so my hands were smaller, for sure, but still. I always called em my "smaller than a booger" cranes. N E way.

Here's my paper if you're interested. It's really long and meandering which is why I'm worried about my grade. Uggghhhh I can't even read it again. It's way too personal and and at the same time too general. Why couldn't I just make a good strong point and argue it? though, I must say, worrying about it is much better than worrying about loved ones. My lil bro isn't even having a nice birthday dinner and my dad is spending the night in a hospital. Crapola. Well, here is my bad paper.

Freedom for Funktionslust

Could you kick a one year old in the side, knocking her down, break a couple ribs? Not morally, I’m sure… and definitely not legally- wouldn’t that earn you a jail sentence and hopefully an unfriendly welcome by your new inmates? Sorry, but it’s completely legal. For non-human victims, that is. The Animal Welfare Act of 1966 is the strongest law in existence to prevent cruelty to animals, yet it only applies to pet cats, dogs, and guinea pigs (why that last? I have been unable to determine that seemingly random addition). Pets, remember. Not test subjects, and certainly not food (farm) animals. So let me rephrase: could you kick a 1-year-old calf, break a few ribs? Would its cries be just the automatic reaction of a biomachine devoid of feeling?
I love a tender skirt steak marinated in teriyaki and roasted over open coals. I’m also a sucker for chicken chalupas at Taco Bell. My palate is a far cry from my previous six years as a vegetarian. Yet I will still spend seven dollars on a six oz. can of tuna, fish that was caught with lines instead of nets to incur no collateral damage. I still donate to People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). I know I do these things out of guilt. But where does this guilt originate, and why? Because I believe that animals have feelings and emotions, as do we. Empathy is one of our greatest and most painful of those.
So why aren’t I still vegetarian? It wasn’t hard, but then, I wasn’t the real deal: I had that line caught tuna as my one “they live free” excuse for the protein I needed. I also added more cheese and milk to my diet. When I really started to examine my decision I realized that it was based on the idea that animals should be allowed the freedom to realize their place in the natural scheme of things, a.k.a. “cage free”. Calves should frolic in meadows, chickens should enjoy a good roll in the dirt (mine are particularly fond of “dustbowls”), and their lives should end without horrible pain, suffering, fear or cruelty. But something like 95% of cheese must be made with rennet. Rennet (also called “enzymes” on the ingredients label): the stomach lining of a baby cow, because what could render cow milk better than the very creature the milk was designed for? And inevitably the stomach lining, or rennet, has come from veal calves; the epitome of the animal cruelty I was trying to protest with my dietary decisions.
Seems I had the dreaded disease of Anthropomorphism- insufficient diet? No- before you run off to your doctor because you’ve had too much brie with your wine lately, let me put it in laymen’s terms: bleeding heart syndrome (BHS). How was I to live, healthy AND guilt free?
I turned to nature for answers. Agriculture has been around for maybe 10,000 years. But nature, organisms, life on this planet has not only existed but thrived for exponentially longer. It is a perfect balance of cycles, a turning, unbroken ring, not a chain with humans as the end link. In fact, let’s look at the part of the cycle with humans first instead of ending with them. A human dies. She is eaten by worms, which cast off rich droppings. Flies lay eggs in her so that their larvae can hatch into an abundance of food. Grass grows in the enriched earth, drawing rabbits, and the maggots feed chickens, which humans hunt and eat. The humans die of old age or accident (or misadventure, earning a “Darwin Award”), history repeats. Obviously simplistic, but it is a cycle. Humans claim to be at the top of the food chain. Ever seen one of those bumper stickers, “I didn’t fight my way to the top to eat veggie burgers”? Anthropocentrism (interpreting reality exclusively in terms of human values and experience) is a disease far more harmful than BHS in my opinion.
I would hope that most people at least know, if not agree with or understand, the quote, “With great power comes great responsibility”. If humans are the monarchs of the animal kingdom, what sort of rulers should we be? I think we would want to sustain our position, and thus need a sustainable base. I would no sooner ask a cheetah to desist dining on it’s favorite meal, the tiny Thompson gazelle, than I would ask King Henry the 8th to please push aside his turducken for the Brussels sprouts and asparagus. However, cheetahs do not confine their prey to immobility in tiny cages, and Kings relied on hunting parties for their meat.
I see hunting to feed your family no different from a hunter shooting a deer than to a falcon feeding its nestlings. Unfortunately, the vast majority of hunting by humans is for sport and not food. This is a major issue where we have not accepted our responsibility as so called “top of the food chain”. It isn’t just the waste of a food source, it is the culling of the biggest, strongest, and most viable specimens a species has to offer. If the leader of a herd of elk is killed to decorate a human lodge, it will not be able to pass on its superior genes. A weaker bull will take its place, not only as procreator but also as the next trophy. Thus the gene pool of the herd is eroded, relying on weaker and smaller animals to pass on their traits. If humans were to consider hunting the smaller and weaker animals of a herd, we would actually be raising the value of our food source instead of decimating it.
This is the natural role of a predator. Yet once again, we must step in, and step up. In the 1800’s especially, natural predator population declined severely. Bears, wolves, pumas, as well as scavengers and smaller animals- vultures, wolverines, foxes: they were all put on the human enemy list. I can argue that it was another one of many bad decisions by humans to all but eliminate them, but that won’t change the fact that it’s already happened. I’d rather look to remedy than the mystics of bending time.
Valley forge, Pa. You can see easily between 50 and 150 deer in one day. I stopped to take a picture of a newborn fawn not 4 feet from the roadside. Barely bigger than my 14-pound cat who rules some 16ish acres where I live, the fawn shared a short moment with its mother in study of our car, and then they slowly ambled into the woods. They are so overpopulated due to lack of predators that they are almost tame. So, the kill allowance was increased for the hunting season. Humans took responsibility for the predators whose roles needed filling, and still, our source of meat was free to eat tender shoots of fresh spring grass in the sunlight. Most chickens you eat will have lived their entire lives in darkness.
That is my omnivore excuse. We can’t just hop off the Ferris wheel whenever we choose, anymore than we can get rid of wolves and bears without upping our hunting limits. I would like to point out that herbivores, like horses, have all flat teeth. Carnivores, like lions, have all sharp teeth: even their molars have jagged crowns. Then there are humans. Omnivores. We have some teeth for chewing, and some for tearing. And I feel that it is not our design to change, at least not entirely. But neither were animals meant to change to the mere products they have become.
The whole food cycle is more than just a natural relationship. It also has the more subtle inclinations towards vetoing the ability for animals to feel, let alone have souls. Animals are our property, to eat, experiment on, kill for pleasure, or fetch us our morning paper. I say if your dog loves to grab the paper or your kitten likes to sleep under your covers, great. But even better is the freedom of choice they have. Does a veal calf even have the choice to turn around? Does a monkey have a choice in whether or not to receive anesthesia while being tied down and cut open, fully conscious and alive? Vivisection: another legally sanctioned form of torture. And torture can flow with the cycle and hurt us, too.
The most deadly form of E. coli bacteria exists purely because animals do not have freedom and are subject to unnecessary cruelty. Did you know that the standard strain of E. coli can be defeated by a human’s stomach acid, with no medical assistance? Normally the bacteria live in an extremely neutral ph, for example, a cow’s stomach. Moving from there to my stomach would be like putting a cartoon character into Dip, or, if you haven’t seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit, stick your hand in a boiling deep fryer for comparison. A normal cow, a ruminant, lives on grass, not grains. But factory farmed cows are not fed grass, they are fed corn, mixed with antibiotics, protein supplements, and liquefied fat. Cow fat. Feeding unused, rendered cow parts back to cows seemed like another cash shortcut until all the mad cow disease bad press. “The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) ban on feeding ruminant protein to ruminants makes an exception for blood products and fat” (Pollan 76). So cows are still eating cow blood and fat. Their stomachs bloat and grow acidic; it is a diet that cannot be sustained for longer than 150 days due to liver disease, ulcers, feedlot polio, and more. Even if the threat of mad cow disease is lowered, the cow’s stomachs are now as acid as ours, and the bacteria E. coli has adapted to strain Escherichia coli 0157:H7, a strain that swims happily in the oceans of human stomachs. And all we have to do is put the cows back in the pastures. They live happy and healthy, as do we, and 0157:H7 is off the menu.
But what about research on animals? Exempt. Cartesian scientists nailed dogs down to boards by their four paws and then cut them open to study the circulation of blood. They claimed that the cries of the dogs were but the noise of a spring that had been touched, like a spring in a clock. A Greek named Galen who experimented with monkeys had already undertaken vivisection in Rome. Yet “it was Leonardo da Vinci, founder of the modern science of anatomy, who discovered that Galen’s anatomical descriptions were incorrect”(Briggs 9). Centuries ago, people of high intelligence found animal research to be inadmissible for humans. The feelings of animals were not at the center of the debate, if they were in it at all. Still, the proof was in the pudding- and yet animals are used for research exponentially more than ever before.
The most basic study in animal research is called LD50 (lethal dose 50 percent). A product is introduced to rats, mice, rabbits, monkeys, any animal. The product, be it a new floor cleaner, blood thinner, or lipstick, will be injected, smeared into the eyeballs, or force-fed to the test subjects. Painkillers cannot be administered because they might interfere with the chemicals being tested and interfere with results. After 50 percent of the animals die, the project is considered complete and the toxicity level determined. Sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to me- but was their crime? Being non-human.
In terms of new furniture polish, that will regulate the warning labels. If the test material is medicinal in nature and it lengthens human lives, it is considered productive research. According to neurologist Aja Octar, only 8 percent of medicinal products tested on animals are viable for humans, and half of those are recalled (30 Days). Simple use of human skin cells, harvested and grown with no harm or pain to anybody, are far more accurate depicters of human and drug interaction. Consider this: Aspirin. One of, if not the most, widely used pharmaceuticals. Yet it is deadly to felines. What if our intrepid researchers had tortured hundreds of cats and determined aspirin to be unsafe? There are numerous alternatives to animal testing, and they are far more accurate. “In vitro research uses cell and tissue cultures in a test tube or Petri-dish, and one of its uses is drug development” (Willams, DeMello 203). I know I’d prefer a plastic dish to a screaming cat if I were a scientist in a lab.
That dreaded term, anthropomorphism, rears its head again. “The old German term funktionslust refers to pleasure taken in what one can do best- the pleasure a cat takes in climbing trees, or monkeys take in swinging from branch to branch. This pleasure, this happiness, may increase the animal’s tendency to do these things, and will also increase the likelihood of its survival” (Massson, McCarthy 13). Biologist Marcy Cottrell Houle observed a pair of peregrine falcons raising five nestlings. One day the female did not return, and the male doubled his efforts in search of food. On the third day of the female’s disappearance, “Arthur (the male) uttered an unfamiliar sound, a ‘cry like the screeching moan of a wounded animal, the cry of a creature in suffering’”(Masson, McCarthy 91). The fourth day Arthur never left his perch, and three of the five nestlings died. On the fifth day the male resumed his hunting. Was this a faulty creature? Just a failed spring in the machine, hindering its species survival? Or was it displaying an emotion?
Jane Goodall is one of the worlds leading researchers in the behavior of apes. She observed an 8-year-old male chimpanzee sitting at his dead mothers side, occasionally tugging her hand. As the days past and he failed to eat, he became increasingly lethargic, only once leaving her body to climb a tree and stare at the sleeping nest he had shared with his mother. Within the month, he died of gastroenteritis. [Goodall’s scientific conclusion was: “It seems likely that psychological and physiological disturbances associated with loss made him more vulnerable to disease”] (Masson, McCarthy 74). A fellow scientist said simply, “he died of grief”.
Do animals feel? Does it matter if they do? What if the Animal Welfare Act was literal and all encompassing, making cruelty illegal for all creatures, from food to fur, research to companions. Then we could eat all the meat we wanted, pop our aspirin, and cozy up in vests made of recycled water bottles. I’m not trying to convince anyone to go vegetarian or stop wearing leather. I AM trying to stop people from using animals as research. I am trying to stop cruelty. If humans are the kings, shouldn’t we be just and fair? Maybe wear a faux fur lined robe instead of one made of anally electrocuted and skinned alive chinchillas? I heard this quote somewhere: “It takes 40 dumb animals to make a fur coat but only one to wear it”. If we are so superior, shouldn’t we be benevolent as well?
I believe it is time for humans to actually accept the responsibility we’ve claimed. I’m going to try to kill a turkey this year, but I don’t know if I can do it. I’ll be drinking out of my Nalgene water bottle and eating potatoes from my garden, petting my cat on her head and maybe tossing her an entrail or bloody feather. But at least I know these turkeys led good lives; I raised them. They lived cruelty free; got to scratch at the dirt, fly out of the pen (the buggars), and show off their full plumage when they were feeling particularly full of prowess. At least until that final deathblow, which I hope will be quick. I’m part of the food circle, not the cruelty cycle.

Hermitgrrl revealed

2010-09-26T20:15:00.000-07:00

I always wanted this blog to be anonymous, but that is silly since the only people who scope this know me. So here's a cool pic of me being a glow stick version of the statue of liberty. Oh dear. I suddenly sense hidden meanings which I did NOT intend. I am no statue of righteousness. LOL. Wearing a necklace my sistah got for me in PA. Love it. Mac's kick ass. They have this built in camera thingy that has all these awesome effects, like "thermal" which is what I used. It really brought out the glow sticks, which I obtained at a party next door. A lot of people were happy to donate their glow sticks to my hair, and, silly as it sounds, I felt kinda like a princess. Girl stuff, I guess. Ha Ha funny green alien girl princess. Anyway, a girl's allowed to show off her plumage once in a while, right? Shrug. Who knows? :)
Love to all.

P.S.

2010-09-26T14:32:00.000-07:00

I'd like to give a shout out to my Granny, who just turned 80, and grew up in the south yet refused to allow racism to permeate her or her kids minds, one of whom, obviously, gave birth to me.

Happy Birthday Awesome lady!

This week, to he@# with "should"

2010-09-26T12:52:00.000-07:00

It's been a long week. I guess, it being Sunday, I should say "last week". But I'm kind of over 'should'. Like, I 'should' have left those babies to die. I 'should' have done so many things. We all have those thoughts- I'd make that a question, as if seeking affirmation, but like I said I'm casting aside the 'should' 's. Of course we all have regrets- hindsight is 20/20. I don't regret taking those babies in, nor do I regret turning them over to a rehabilitation center. I miss them, of course. Little Elvis, who always wanted to leave the building and /or sing (scream). Rocky, who was good at the bottle, Consuela who would fall asleep with her head tucked under herself in my arms. I did the right thing. I saved their lives, and turned them over to people who could further assist them in their reintroduction to nature.

However.

Did you know that computers have "fingerprints" and "DNA" just like us? It's called an IP address. Traceable. You can put it in a data base, compare it to, say, emails you've received. Well. I had many a person warn me about rabies, etc. And I cared very much that people were worried about me; hell, I felt loved. But the other day I encountered a full uniform, shiny metal star on chest, AZ wildlife fish and game man. My gate was locked so he actually walked up my long, long driveway to find me. This wasn't an act of love. It was pure malice. So I started digging up IP's.

To digress, (my favorite way of telling stories, John would be proud) I have tried to walk the silk thread line between supporting my mom and not messing with other people. "Other" meaning the ones against her. All I want is for every one to be happy- haha, yeah, I'm an idealist, I know. But when "some one" reported me for 'harboring wildlife', I had to consider: who had I told? Who knew (and thought it bad) that I had rescued babies with the sole intent of saving them, rehabbing them.

I traced the IP addresses. Sure, I know who reported me, or at least have a good bit of connective evidence, but revenge? An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind. I'm sure as hell no saint, but I wish people could accept that instead of directing their hate at a random whipping boy they could spend their energy on making their own lives good. Why spend all your energy trying to hurt others, when you can spend that energy on making your life, and the lives you care about, better?

I heard a story on NPR once, told by a holocaust survivor. She went through mucho therapy and she came out with this: "I have the power to NOT forgive the Nazi's". That alone gave her strength. Because who doesn't want forgiveness? For even the tiniest thing, like, when I was 18 my Mom threw me a party, with actual "you're 18!" napkins and plates and I blew her off to go hang out with my friends. I've apologized for this many a time- for being a selfish, stupid teenager, and she has forgiven me again and again. She understands that I was just a, well, teenager. Full of self righteous independence.

What if my Mom had closed her door to me, not accepted my apologies? I would have withered inside, just like the Nazi's who found regret, not to mention self hate, and couldn't even seek redemption through apology. That is why it's so important to just let go of the hate. The self loathing. It's a slippery, down hill slope, self loathing. But if you keep giving out your love and kindness, instead of hate and revenge, maybe... we could all live happy?

yeah, it sounds like crazy talk. but isn't that sad? that it could be considered 'crazy' that i want everyone to be happy? Like i said, I'm no saint. I'm probably a big fat sinner. My intentions are good, though, and I think that is a goal worthy of striving for. Good intentions and happiness for all. Dang. I got all maudlin, didn't I. Like I said I'm an idealist. I hate drama, and I hate hate. See, I'm just as bad as the next guy. F#$@ hate. I'm starting to think that maybe all anyone needs is a big effin' hug and love. Wouldn't the world be better?

I'm thankful that my parents raised me, to not be in any way shape or form, racist. Or elitist. Or hateful in any way. I mean, I encountered the most racist man I've ever met, and I didn't engage in argument (or clock him over the head with a crowbar) I just pulled the "live and let live" card. Heck, maybe that makes me a pansy. But what if every one did that? What if he did that? Had his opinions, but went with the card I pulled, and kept up the exterior politeness?

Don't know.

I read an article about how people migrate towards 'like' people. But that's another tirade at another podium for another day.

I can honestly say that I wish all people well. If everyone was happy they would have no need to bring others down, so that is my wish: Happiness to everyone.

Even Gandhi had his bad moments. He said mean things to his own children. No one will ever be perfect, and I am far from there. But I still wish the best for everyone. Even those who wish me ill will. If they were happy they wouldn't want to hurt others. Damn I'm so bleeding heart syndrome. Well, that's all I got for now. I'm kind of still a "young'un" myself so you all may have already figured this stuff out. But i must say, I stick by the "can you look at yourself in the mirror and feel okay?" diagnostic. You know I don't mean your exterior. I'm going to go check right now.
Love to all,
Hermitgrrl

hermit lady's baby raccoons

2010-09-17T19:28:00.000-07:00

Well, we all know that every time I try to link something it FAILS. I blame blogger. So, you might not be able to google or youtube it for a few days, but there is a video of me an the baby raccoons in my garden.

whenever this IS searchable, look up "Hermit lady's baby raccoons"
hope y'all get to see them funny lil monkeys

5 of a kind

2010-09-13T19:26:00.000-07:00

I guess, in poker, that only happens when you're playing with wild cards. But I like playing with wilds. Haha that is such a double entendre in this here post. I have quintuplets. That's 5, right? Yeah, 5 baby raccoons. Every single person tried to talk me out of it, but do you think I could leave those babies there to die?????? I sat down next to them, them and their funny monkey noises, and they crawled all over me and into my lap for warmth. Their little toe and foot pads were so cold! Seriously, I get the dangers, the likely hood of their mom coming back, blah, blah, blah. I'd rather die from rabies or plague than live without being able to look myself in the mirror, which, if they died 'cause I left them there, I wouldn't be able to do. And you know what? If we only live once, or reincarnate, or go meet up with St Peter, I want to be able to stand tall, as few regrets as possible, proud as I can with enough humility to not be a jerk. And I'd rather live a short happy life than a long miserable one, though I'm hoping for long AND happy heehee.
Would anyone leave 5 human babies alone on the shore of a lake, hoping they would make it through the coyote filled night or that their mom would come back? Don't think so! I am fiercely devoted to these babies survival, and I don't give a crap what anyone has to say negatively about it. I think it's already been established that I'm a bleeding heart. I'm gonna take care of these babies, and they are going to live and thrive, dammit. I lost Leo's babies, and now Leo herself, and even though it wasn't my "fault", I feel like I have a shot at redemption here.
And St. Peter, if you're listening, I'd like to come back as a bird. Thank you.

P.S. I actually worked on uploading and organizing photos the other day, but now my camera won't connect or be "recognized" by my computer. I have a love/ hate relationship with computers. But if I can figure out this latest glitch, I'll show you the cutest quintuplets and you will perhaps better understand why I had to save them. Stupid bleeding heart, I gotta get a Doc to look at that. But then again, if there were a cure, would I want it? I really don't know.

no title yet GASP!

2010-09-04T13:02:00.000-07:00

This is just an rough draft assignment for my english class I'm working on. The topic we had to pick was "the first time we did...."anything at all. So, here goes.

My first car was an '87 white Toyota minivan named Betsy. I didn't get a vehicle until I was 18, and even so I was still the first one in my group of friends to do so. However, that didn't mean I knew much more than the rules of the road. I didn't know how to change a tire, or that regular oil changes are as necessary as keeping gas in the tank (this may have contributed to the death of that poor beloved van). I even had a co-worker ask me once if I'd checked my blinker fluid recently, and for a few seconds I had to think about it. Then I socked him in the shoulder and he laughed and laughed.
One summer day, only a few months into my stint as a full fledged driver, I was at my friend John's house. The sun was so strong it made even the thickest leaves a translucent green and you could smell them, as if their pores were opening to breathe just as ours were to sweat. There was not a single breeze, but the beach was only ten miles away and we knew once we got down out of the mountains we could get some relief. There was no more having to ride our bikes, either, which would have had the opposite effect on our desire to cool off.
So John and I hopped in ol' Betsy, opened all the windows with a quick crank of the handles, and squirmed in the fuzzy seats. It was like putting on sweatpants, but as soon as we got the AC going we'd be okay. I turned the key and Betsy gave one feeble attempt to turn her engine over, and then nothing. I figured I'd just done it wrong, after all, I was still new at this whole driving thing. So I turned the key again, but this time all I heard was one sad little click. The sweat was really starting to pour now: I don't think they make fuzzy seats like that anymore, for good reason. At least the windows weren't automatic, but since there wasn't any breeze to speak of, it was still hotter in the car than out.
"I think the battery is dead," John suggested. Sounded reasonable to me. I knew the gas tank wasn't empty, but then, I didn't know what an alternator was or that there were fuses, which could have just as likely been the problem. I can say this now, perhaps slightly smugly, since I've killed a lot more cars since then. Which, come to think of, I shouldn't be proud of, but at least I've learned a few things.
"So, what do we do?" I asked, deferring to him as though as a male he might know more about this sort of thing.
"Well, if we had some cables, we could jump it...."
"But we'd need another car for that," I pointed out, and there wasn't one around. My house was a couple of miles away, and I could have called my Mom, but I was a cocky, independent teenager and I was going to prove it by figuring this out myself. By now it was just too hot in the car, so we got out to ponder the situation. For a brief moment the comparison of the outside air was almost refreshing. Our backsides were soaked from that brief sit in Betsy. Then our bodies re-acclimated and we were even more desperate to get somewhere cool.
"I have an idea," John said. (This later proved my presumption of male car knowledge exceeding that of females to be unfounded.) "I've heard that if you get a car rolling fast enough, like down a hill, you can jump start it that way," he said. Well, we happened to be on a hill, which I might say was lucky, unless I could've seen into the future.
"Then let's do it."
I was already aimed in the right direction, so I climbed back into that sweaty driver's seat and sat there for a moment while John climbed into the passenger side. At the bottom of the hill the road made a left turn, so I took a moment to consider before popping the E brake. At the turn there was a fence, and then a lawn, and then a house. I figured if the worst happened I'd bust a fence, but the car was going to start, right?
"Are you sure about this?" I asked. "I mean, have you actually seen this done, or know someone who's done it?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, casually waving his hand. Maybe he was just fanning himself, but I took it as a gesture of confidence. "My sister's Pinto dies all the time, and this is what she does."
"Okay." I took one last look around. I didn't want to do this when any other cars were coming: it was just a little country road, nothing like suburbia. No yellow line down the middle, no white lines on the side, and definitely nothing even close to resembling a sidewalk. Just the gray pavement stretching down... down... It wasn't really that long of a hill, but it was fairly steep. However, I hung out with guys mostly, and had a tendency to try to match their levels of testosterone with my own form of gutsy stupidity. There was no way I would back out of this. I wanted a running car, dammit, so I wiped my sweaty forehead and released the emergency brake.
Betsy started rolling slowly at first, and I tried the key a few times. Nothing.
"Wait 'till we're going faster," John said. About halfway down the hill, we seemed to be going pretty fast for being in a dead car, so I tried again. Still nothing. By now the turn was coming up pretty quick, and it seemed like the trees and houses were streaking by, flashes of green, dashes of gray and brown. I was starting to feel adrenaline buzzing through my limbs and out to to the tips of my nerves. My heart rate was was climbing in what seemed like direct proportion to the descent. I started pumping the brakes, but nothing happened, and I frantically twisted the key again and again.
Finally we hit the turn and I cranked the wheel. It locked. I smashed the brakes with all my strength and yanked the E brake and wonder of wonders, we missed the fence, slid with a terrifying, crunching, roar into roadside gravel, and managed to come to a stop. At this point the sweat pouring down us had nothing to do with the summer day. We sat there shaking a bit, then wobbled out of the car. The sun was like a spotlight, blinding us, bouncing off the white paint of the van and the fence I'd missed. My jaunty self assurance had leaked out of me faster than a wave might recede at the beach we wouldn't make it to. I was a kid again, a kid who hiked back up that steep hill to call my Mamma for rescue.
She came and looked at the battery. She had more car savvy than all my friends put together, which added to my lesson on sexual assumptions. There was a faintly sea foam green crystallized corrosion on the battery. It wasn't in need of a jump, it was in need of replacement. My first time I ever tried to jump a car, and it couldn't have even been jumped anyway.
"And honey," my Mom said, one hand over her her eyes and forehead, the other on her hip, elbow crooked. "This method only works with a stick shift."

When it rains, it pours zucchini's.

2010-08-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

Last year we had a total fail crop of Zucch's, so of course this year we are bombarded. AND, of course, they are all ready at the same time. Note to self: stagger planting. But the fact is, the growing season is so short around here that you really just can't do much staggering. Unless, perhaps, with the help of a nice bottle of tequila. Ahem. As of right now, I have 4 zucchini's in my house. That doesn't sound too hard to manage, right? ... but these are not the kind you would find in the store. You see, I've had a terrorist attack of grass that obscures everything, and so these 4 'chini's are 10 - 14 inches long, and, I kid you not, one is FIVE inches in diameter.

And so I've been being far more vigilant about hunting out the boogers, and there are 8 more in the garden ready to go. These ones are at least not past your standard supermarket size... yet. And I love the suckers, fried up in butter and eggs, grated and mixed with bread crumbs and eggs to make patties, (don't forget, we get a dozen eggs a day up here on hurricane knob), roasted in the oven with sliced onion, tomatoes from the garden, drizzled with olive oil and dashed with salt and pepper... but seriously, I can't keep up. And I can't give 'em away either, 'cause everyone else with a garden ( and that's a lot of folks up here) has the same problem. You can't freeze them, and maybe you could dry them like apricots but honestly that sounds kinda grody. And what would you DO with dried zucchini anyway?

Well, while I work on this dilemna, my investigation has continued into the mysterious garden visitor and sampler / destroyer of catnip. I collected several tufts of fur which I could immediately tell did not belong to Pheonix, for every single one of his furs has 4 stripes of color, black at the tip, white at the body, some cream and brown in between. If I had a microscope I could, very gently of course, collect samples from Miss Q and Genevieve. Inspector Hermitgrrl, the dually talented forensic biologist and detective, solving garden crimes, being flown from New York to Seattle and everywhere in between, bringing answers and closure to botanical lovers everywhere. But, alas.

However, the undamaged portion of the bush has been un- flattening itself, reaching up with the fierce hope of survival inherant in all living things. Which is a dang good thing, not just for the kitties to rejoice, but the BEES. Catnip has these clumps of lavender flowers that, when you look reeeeeeal close, look like clusters of tiny orchids maybe an eigth or even a sixteenth of an inch in height each. And when you look that close, you can see that they are not just lavender, but have spots of black and yellow, smaller than a pin head. Beautiful. And the bees LOVE them, and I love the bees. I haven't seen many this year, which is actually quite terrifying, because I know that bee populations in general are in trouble, and did you know that humans have not found a way to replicate what bees do? Which means, if bees decline, pollination declines, and that means food supplies for not just us but all critters decline. And obviously, if food supplies dwindle, who knows what could happen? Famine? Wars over food? I tell ya, thoughts like that are a lot scarier than wondering what strange creature was in my garden the other night. I really think this info should be making headlines across the globe- which is funny, 'cause I can't stand to read the news anymore.

'Course, living in a red state doesn't help my desire to pick up a newspaper, though I guess most people get their news online or (shudder) television these days. Now, dangit, I hate to leave things on a negative note; that makes me just as bad as the papers! So, let's see... There is a beautiful lightning storm right now, blessedly cooling my house from 90 degrees to 78 and dropping! Yay! And I harvested a bunch of Larkspur and lettuce seeds today. I love saving my own seeds, in fact, every productive corn stalk and pea vine in my garden I grew from dried kernals and peas I saved last year! How cool is that!!! I also get fresh seeds, too, wouldn't want to end up with some kinda inbred pea and corn famine! And I have 33 zinnias blooming now; red, purple, five shades of pink, cream... gorgeous!

So, sorry about all the busy bee business, HEEHEE I had to write that, think of pretty flowers!!!! Gather wildflowers out on a walk, I did the other day and it's as lovely a bouqet as you could buy at any store.

Happiness to all, Hermitgrrl.

The Mystery of the Catnip Bush

2010-08-26T16:31:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night... just kidding! Actually it was a beautiful moonlit night yesterday, and I went and played with my kitties in it. I also slacked and left my garden gate open (doh!). When I went for my usual garden check of the day, I immediately noticed the catnip bush. The thing is huge, easily five feet wide and 4 feet tall, beautiful, lush, thick. But today, it was... broken. Beaten and broken and trampled down, like maybe a deer thought it would be a nice place to sleep. However, if it had been a deer, there would have been a lot of feasting taking place as well (boogers). The only thing touched was this bush, and by the size of the wreckage it had to be something dog sized. At least. My cats, sure they nibble here and there, but there is no way they could have caused this level of destruction.

LOL in fact right now Genevieve is horking down on the plate of leaves I trimmed from all the broken branches and set out to dry to save. 'Nother side note ( you know by now I'm famous for my digressions) the shop I'm getting my new tires from has an office kitty. I would never have expected these two gruff, burly, grease covered guys to have an office cat, but this orange tom is the most beat up scruffy thing I've seen so maybe they all just fit together. And I mean that in a nice way!! And I love love love it when anyone is a cat lover, obviously, but for some reason it seems even more touching when it's burly men. So when I get my tires I'm going to bring a little bag of catnip for their kitty- he might not be into it, some cats are, some are not, but what the hey. Lol just hope they don't think I'm bringing them a bag of pot or something hahaha!!! That would be funny!

OK, so back to my poor mangled bush. It was broken, obviously slept in or rolled in or both. Now, all 4 dogs up here on hurricane knob, as we call it (windy season is a beeyatch I tell ya!) have been in the garden, and never have taken any interest in the catnip. Besides, they are in at night. So it wasn't dogs, because it would have happened long before this. And it wasn't a deer, because a deer would have eaten a lot of other things, or maybe even left poo to rub it in my face that haha neener neener we got in your garden! So... what was it? Honestly, that kind of damage... to big for even a bobcat. So maybe there is some other animal that likes catnip? Maybe a javelina? I cannot imagine that a cougar was that close to my house, though a bear did walk right by my front door before. And thus I am completely baffled. A bonafide mystery right in my own back yard. Well, front yard, but that's not how the saying goes. Perhaps I shall google catnip and see if animals other than felines love it. Still, though, the thought that something as big as a dog was out there... creepy. But don't worry, Inspector Hermitgrrl will be on the case.

OOOH, an update on a previous subject: The beautiful yet terrifying caterpillar gave me crazy nightmares. It had also stopped moving and I was horrified that I might have killed it. Maybe captivity was no good for it, and even if they scare me it doesn't mean I want them to DIE. For both our sakes it had to leave the premises. So I carefully placed the twig it was hanging from in a safe (read: I never go there) part of the garden. Two days later I went to look and see if it's poor shriveled corpse was there, or if maybe, hopefully, it had woken from it's stupor and wandered off along it's way to continue nom nomming my garden. And guess what. omg the excitement. THERE WAS A BEAUTIFUL CHRYSALIS!!!!!!!!!! YAY! Yes photo documentation is underway and no Hermitgrrl still has not got her rear in gear to upload photos. I have like 600!!!!! That's a lot of work, ya know. Plus I lost my favorite photo application when my hard drive crashed last year. Am I the best excuse maker or what? Actually, nope. Trying to only say nice things about myself these days. "I am a busy woman and I will get to it when I can." So there. Heehee ;)

Love to all, Hermitgrrl of the Mountains.

zombies vs. caterpillars

2010-08-20T12:12:00.000-07:00

I, the girl who finds caterpillars second in terror only to zombies, am now not only hosting but feeding one. That's right. Grilling my brains upon the barbie, served with a side of corn. Okay ewwwwww that grossed even me out. I found a caterpillar in my garden yesterday that is- dare I say it? I suppose I must; it is beautiful. Yes the slacker nature paparazzi took pics and no she has not uploaded them. But slacker nature girl is HOSTING A CATERPILLAR. IN HER OWN HOME. Shudder. Even through it's beauty it grosses me out. Or should I say, even through my shallow phobia it's beauty shines?

Well. I believe it to be a swallowtail larvae eeeew even that word grosses me out. (Tangent: this guy in highschool called me larvae. Ah the joys of youthful kindness. Ahem. Back to the scoop.) Let us call it a swallowtail baby. Yes, much better. The baby butterfly is about 3 inches long and maybe... 1/3 inch in diameter? (I will stop mentioning this but one last time I must say that even writing this causes me to shudder ew ew ew yuck ok I done now.) So this baby is vividly striped black and green, with every other black stripe bearing orange triangles. And it has a penchant for dill. That's where I found it; it had devoured an entire stalk and was eyeballing another close by. I had just settled the lizard into my garden- did I mention the lizard I created a temporary terrarium for?- and when I saw this baby butterfly I found my next occupant.

Seriously, I couldn't leave it in the garden. Because then it would have went about its merry business of life and not only eaten forbidden fruits but it most likely would be hidden, never to be seen again. Which means, scary cater- er, baby butterfly hiding in my garden. Waiting to jump out at me and eat my brains o m g. Okay, breathe. And I couldn't fling it over the fence like I do when finding grubs and screaming 'cause that'd be very rude and possibly harmful to the poor nasty baby. Grubs are bad. Worms are good, I relocate them gently. Wow, I'm like a total insect racist.

Anyway, we shall see what this baby grows into and whether or not it will escape it's confines and eat my brains while I sleep. I'll let you know. Or, If I don't, call the zombie squad and have my town quarantined. Either way, it should be interesting.

monday

2010-08-16T11:41:00.000-07:00

P.S. the P being "pre" instead of "post": "john" is a pseudonym. I swear.

I've been thinking about my past today. It's hard for me, for some reason I don't remember much. I've heard that some people remember the past better than others, some live in the now, and some cannot think about anything but the future, and so miss the now.

Random tangent: did you know you can actually hear shooting stars? Meteorites really, and I saw and heard one. Sounded like a jet- not a plane, a jet. I have pretty decent hearing; the other day a truck pulled up our driveway, I did not see it, but I knew it was a truck by sound and I knew when it had to reverse because of our gate; I could hear the change in engine sound.

Anyhoo, so I found some journals from when I was 22. I was living in an RV for 200 dollars a month, that was on such a slanted hill that you could not put a glass of water on the table because it would slide off. The inside fridge didn't work, so there was a mini frat kid type fridge outside. Heck, at least I had electricity. Plumbing, not so much. No oven or stove- microwave and barbecue were my means of cooking. And I had a car thank goodness; my old Camero Z28. Man I loved that thing. And I had a job- good for me. At one point I went 8 months working six days a week, no 2 day weekends, no vacations, but I'm not saying that to complain. It's just interesting to me how I lived nearly ten years ago. Lol hope I'm not boring anyone who reads this. I don't really even know what the point of this story is. I think it's for me, to remember and record the past. I don't know if I was happy, but I think it was an adventure for sure.

The next place I rented, the first real apartment I ever had, was $650 a month for a teeny tiny rat hole with mildewed curtains and a 9 by 10 foot bedroom. Across the street was a bar/restaurant that dumped all their glass bottles in the metal dumpster at 1am. Ever so restful- funny thing is, by day I delivered their mail. This time I didn't have a car- I sold my dying Camero to a guy for 1 dollar, because he said he would bring it back to life and appreciate it. Actually, he dumped it in gangville where it was stripped, towed, and impounded, costing me over a thousand bucks because tho he promised to take care of the paperwork because of the sweet 1 dollar deal, but he never actually went to the DMV, so it was still in my name.

So for 7 ish months I walked to work, luckily it was close enough to do so. Lol one time I stopped at a stop sign. On foot. Talk about having the rules drilled into you good. Heck, I was a professional driver with no personal vehicle. That is dang funny. But that apartment, it's hard to even describe the accessories. The "kitchen" was about 4 by 9 feet and I swear that sink came from 1950. Again, I'm honestly not complaining, just trying to piece together my past. The place also came with a small school desk, ones you can find by the millions in high schools across the country. At least, back in 1996, lol I haven't seen the inside of a HS since then, maybe they've upgraded the standard desk. This desk was sans chair, but I had a funky one from the thrift store, and I found a nook in the bedroom to set up my computer. The tiny living room also hosted the fridge; the kitchen was way too small to hold one. Funnily, the bathroom was big and modern and new. And you could hear every word of the people in the adjoining apartment, which rather embarrassed me whenever I, ahem, had to use it. (They were rather horrid to their children, which I could also hear through that wall.)

I was fairly poor then; John didn't have a job half the time. I remember once, when I only had one pair of shoes with a hole in the toe and 2 dollars in my wallet, and John gave 20 dollars to our friend. He'd give anyone the shirt off his back, which is honorable, but I wished that, as the fiance, I'd come first. Back then, I kept track of every cent, hell, I still have the records. They are kinda funny and kinda fascinating, a kind of portrait of back then. And back then, my records proved that I covered Johns ass. Sorry, trying to tell my story straight with little bitterness. But here's an example, straight from said records:

Monday April 7 2003
$298.00 cash
-$100 to bank
$198.00 (bank:-$66.85+$100=$33.15)
-$18.00 me n John gas (this was obviously a couple years later, when we had a car again) [john $9.00]
$180.00
-$4.18 me and john hs(have no idea what hs stands for lol) [john 2.09]
-$37.80 me n john bookcase [john $18.90]
$138.02
-$3.71 me n john hs [john $1.85]
$134.31

Tuesday april 8th
$134.31
-$65.00 jeep tow
$69.31

Wednesday april 9th
$69.31
-$2.90 taco bell (lol)
$66.41
-$17.00 me n john laundry [john 8.50]
$49.41
-$8.00 to john
$41.41
-$10.00 me n john grocery [john $5.00]
$31.41

Etc. I have books and books of this stuff. It really pissed John off that, in his words, "he had a tab". He always said he'd do for me what I did for him, monetarily, but in 8 years never proved that point. In the end, I figured as long as he kept the house clean and ran the errands, he could just stay unemployed. I'd be the bread winner, he'd be the stay at home hubby. I'd given up on having an equally employed partner long before. Heck, I loved him. He was still my best friend, though he never put me before his other friends.

I applogize. I wanted this to be a happy, cheerful, uplifting blog when I started it, but I want to be real now. All the bad things I've gone through this year have changed me. It's hard to put up a false front. I want to be honest, and life certainly has it's downs as well as ups. There is good that has come out of these latest downs, though. Family. Family that I don't feel that I ever really appreciated before has been here for me. My god, the love I feel for my grandparents, aunts and uncles, siblings, parents, cousins, friends even... it's overwhelming. Like I didn't even realize how much love existed that was aimed at me. I'm a lucky SOB to say the least. I know that. And that knowledge makes me feel guilty for many a reason. Like how dare I feel sad when I have all these wonderful people? I have a car, a home, food, and most of all, love. Love that, by the way, I'd like to return three fold. Huge hugs to everyone. And please pardon my reminiscences, I'm trying to figure out life. And speaking of life, thank you god, goddess, or whatever great spirit or divinity there is for this grey day. It's been so dang hot lately, 90 degrees usually, and my AC is busted. It is a pleasant 79 now and I am LOVIN' it.

I should go enjoy my garden, the zinnias are finally blooming and heehee in my windowsill a jalepeno is growing! Life moves forward. And I will, too. Just might be a longer journey than I expected in this fast paced world.

this life

2010-08-05T12:51:00.000-07:00

Nothing interesting to post, I'm afraid. No pretty pictures. A lil' bit o' news. Picked the classes I'm going to take this fall: Biology and math. Got a flat tire when I was off roading the other day, and I was worried I'd torn the tire bad from a sharp stick or something, but it turned out to be a nail- a nail so long it pierced my tire twice! An entry and exit wound. I'm bummed to admit that it took me almost 40 minutes to change my tire. I used to be able to do it in 15 mins or less.. but its been a few years since I've changed a tire. That's a good excuse, right? Plus I broke a nail and it bled like crazy so I think I earned my 40 mins. And hey, at least I have a real spare, not one of those mickey mouse tiny things I had for my Camaro.

Praying for rain; for some reason this curve of mountain ridge gets skipped all the time. I could really go for some cool weather- cool meaning low 70's.

Life is safe up here on the mountain, but I've had some pretty bad anxiety attacks lately. My peeps, kitties included, and my garden, nature, and the stars help a lot. Saw an awesome shooting star last night. Should have wished on it: that everyone I love be happy. Lol well there's always 11:11 o'clock for wishes too, and you can pray whenever you want so I'd just like to wish everyone the fullest life of goodness this world has to offer. 'Kay, that grammar/ sentence seems wrong somehow, but ill be in school in a couple weeks; I'll worry about it then :)

Photos will be along SOMEDAY... 'till then, love to all.

July 30th

2010-06-30T15:09:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post (fired, I know) but it's day 2 of what the locals call "the monsoons". It's pretty cool I made it back just in time for 'em, 'cause I LOVE the lightning and rolling booms of thunder. The rain isn't pelting hard yet so I was even able to garden in it, but then the lightning got all close so I thought I better retreat to my metal trailer that stands alone in a clearing. Ha! Still, kitties, garden, awesome weather and all (which I'm sure I'll complain about after a few weeks) a big part of me wishes I was back in PA enjoying everything with my peeps. How does one have a vacation when their work is on hiatus? Don't know, but I did. And now I want some lebanon bologna. Why is Pa the only place that has it, I'd like to know.

P.S. Pappy said it's SIX seconds per mile between lightning and thunder which is dang handy to know since I always thought it was one second lol that means the lightning is two miles away right now not 12 heehee makes a lot more sense that you can hear something one or two miles away than twelve.

Antelope Horns and the Happiest Girl in the Whole USA

2010-06-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's funny how things are connected. Maybe more than sometimes, now that I think about it. Well, I happen to be that girl today, and I want you to hear it sung- not by Donna Fargo, the country singer who first sang it in the 70's, but by Daveigh Chase. It's actually bone chillingly beautiful, and sad. So if the link I attempt to insert doesn't show up, go to Youtube and search "Big Love- Daveigh Chase- Happiest Girl.

Lately there haven't been many dry eyed days around here, but like monks say, when you're down there will always be an up on the way, and when you're up there will come a down. Got a giant up today courtesy of my Dad. Why I want you to hear this sad song that should be happy is because today, when I was so happy, I couldn't stop crying. Tell you why in a sec, but let's get back to songs for a minute. I'm sure you know the classic which includes the line, "where the deer and the antelope play". Well, I found some antelope horns the other day. And I, a naturalist, wasn't even sure if there still ARE antelopes in America. For all I knew they went the way off the passenger pigeon, or the way the buffalo nearly went. So of course I googled them. This IS 2010, after all. Info at your fingertips and all that.

It turns out that the pronghorn antelope of north america is not actually IN the antelope family. Real antelopes have horns which never shed, while the Antilocapra A.Americana to which the song refers do shed their horns yearly, not to mention have other variations putting them in a different family than real antelopes. I'm sorry. This stuff fascinates me.

The picture I show you is the antelope horns I found. Looks just like something you'd see growing out of a antelopes head, right? (mental picture making me laugh) Apparently that's the common name for this strange and beautiful wildflower growing in my back yard. Asclepias Asperula, in the milkweed family. Supposedly poisonous AND medicinal. I so wanted to take pictures of them, but I have been camera- less for, sheesh, almost half a year now.

So how did I get this photo? I did not steal it off the interwebs, even though it IS 2010 and all. Nope. Today when I went to the post office there was a parcel. And in this big brown box was MORE than everything I could ever need to have my camera up and in action again. I felt like a part of me I hadn't even known was missing had been returned. Honestly, it felt as though I'd been living all this time with one eye and now I have two again. Two eyes that are tearing up AGAIN because I am so, so loved by the best dad in the universe. So there are ups and downs, we might sing something happy when we are sad or we might cry when we are happy ( I happen to be a wedding crier, can't help it). Today I got an up when I was down, and though the physical evidence is THE AWESOMEST CAMERA GEAR EVER, the real deal is the love. So much love it makes my heart ache and dagnabbit I think I got something in my eye again. I love you Dad, and I love you all, my family and friends. I hope you know it the way I know it.

Now please excuse me while I find some kleenex and take approximately 3,589 photos that have been waiting and waiting for me to be camera laden once more. And try not to rue the day that you can't stand another picture of potato leaves and lettuce sproutlings and of course kitties and kitties and more kitties. And some more potatoes growing. They are volunteering all over! Sheesh! What's a nature paparazzi to do??!!?? Might as well ditch a gambler in downtown Vegas. And these memory cards hold like SIX HUNDRED pictures. And I'm off to prove that right now.

:) Michael Franti Say Hey

2010-04-10T09:20:00.000-07:00

This video is nothing but happy loving people. I was sick for three weeks, now have horrid itchy claw my eyes out allergies. But this video, it makes me teh happeh. That's interweb speak for 'the happy' aka just plain happy. Every one in this video is smiling, dancing and saying those three words that scare people so much. And I love the setting. And the people; black, white, ROYGBIV (I never quite got why there is blue indigo and violet in science and only blue and purple in our standard american version of the rainbow). Anyway, I can't help but smile watching this. It makes me warm n fuzzy. Ugh. So does the Nyquil. And again with the insomnia. My itchy face wakes me up :( with the running nose and face tickles. So i watch this. I feel love for humankind. You should watch it and smile, too.

So, since my beautiful comp with it's brand new OS and HD, with ten gazillion gigs of memory, cannot make a link.... (I'm sure it's not me, human error could SO not be the prob) I beg you. Go to utube. Search for Michael Franti 'Say Hey'.
Do it now.
Will work on figuring linkage out while you do that.

just some stuff

2010-03-16T22:25:00.000-07:00

Still sick. Day 9, 10? May have to spring for a doctor. Meanwhile I'd like to share this awesome poem.

Gigin alone at the bottom of the hill
Our protagonist named Bill
Sets his his sights on an Anchor Steam pint
All he needs is 13 quarters
Congregated in his hat
A crow, a scavenger type
California redemption provides him with his rent
Room and board inside of, a fifth, of comfort
As the wind penetrates his bones
His mind keeps focused
Tidal waves of sound catapulted
From his horn, wail like lovers
The coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury
His meter slows realizing a zenith
He's reached perfection
No one did see him die

Anyway that is a punk song by NOFX called "Scavenger Type". I'm terrible at understanding art, especially the abstract stuff... I listened to this song for 5 years before finally getting that it was about a homeless guy. I just liked the sound. It's dang mellow, especially being in the punk genre. But I gotta say the details are awesome.. like the mercury, aka temperature, dropping, the "fifth of comfort" being a bottle of Southern Co... Well, gotta take some Nyquil and try to beat this bug. Spring waits for no woman. There is so much I need to do but just standing exhausts me. Dang it. Wish me health.

2010-03-13T10:19:00.008-08:00

Oh em gee. I have been sick for 7 days. That sounds like... a line from an old poem or song or something.
For seven days and seven nights,
I've suffered pain, but fought the fight.
Ok that was lame. I'm SLOWLY getting better, though I have a fever this mornin'. Managed to sleep through the last two nights though; previously I'd been waking up for hours of pain, fever chills, and more pain. I thought my throat was trying to kill me. Now my throat is almost better ( I still sound like a frog) but I've still got something like the worst cold ever. At least I've had an appetite through this whole ordeal (my stomach is currently reminding me). Course, trying to eat is real fun when your nose might as well be stopped with cement. I'm sure you really needed that detail. But I lose my breath just eating 'cause it's so ingrained in me to chew with my mouth closed. Anyhoo!

This morning I was waking up, praising the universe for another full night of sleep, when... Well, think about faces. Not expressions, just the flesh itself. Thin eyelids, soft lips, delicate, sensitive nose. Then think about cat feet. Little toe pads that precede wicked scimitars of death. Now if you were to put the two together, face and cat feet... but wait, let's start at the beginning.

For some reason, it started with a cat in a tree. Little Genevieve has not mastered the art of climbing trees. Strike that. She has not mastered the art of getting down. So I would go to the tree, reach as high as I could on tippity toe, and call to her. She would slowly, slowly inch to my hand, then climb down my arm (good thing it's winter and I wear lots of layers!) to perch on my shoulders.

In fact, I have become such a reliable bridge that I can even be used when hopping from the couch to the counter. I was bending over to scoop some cat food out of the bag when four little paws briefly graced the back of my head.

In fact, I seem to be preferable to even a four foot drop, because I so kindly bend my knees like a good elevator and the shoulder level drops to a convenient 18 inches for kitty to hop off of. Because here Genevieve wasn't stuck, no, not this time. And while I was busy thinking, "ooh photo op", she was thinking, "just a liiiiiiiittle closer...". And then boing onto my shoulder.

Just last night while brushing my teeth, I had bent over to spit, and all of a sudden there was Genevieve on my back, checking out my bathroom nook from her new observatory. Yes, I am ladder, an elevator, an observation deck, and a bridge. But you know what the best thing ever is? I'm also a safe haven. Because this morning, when feline feet met face, not a single claw was out. And they haven't been since that first rescue. So I may be a convenience, but I'm a loved one. Maybe not respected, but definitely loved.

Now if I could just get healthy dag nabbit.... It's perfect spring weather for the next few days and I've got gardens to till and driveway gravel to rake! Cats to serve and birds to feed! Arrrgh!

Carrots!!!

2010-03-06T11:46:00.000-08:00

OK I'm way too excited. I will try to type this as coherently as possible. It's the uber excitement. And the insomnia. But where to begin? 'Cause it's kind of a long story, or at least one full of digressions and side tracks. For example, I didn't know I could send pictures from my phone to my computer! Heck, I didn't even know how to access pics on my phone, I barely even knew how to take them. But my borrowed camera, see, does not have a handy dandy nifty shnifty battery pack. It runs on double A's, and it sucks those down fast! So it was dead, and I needed pictures. Thus, the process of evolution. I figured out my phone cam. Necessity. The mother of invention.

So, anyway. Last winter, we hadn't harvested all our carrots. When the earth finally thawed, we dug up the sad leftovers. The frost had split them, warped them, disintegrated them. Sadness. Well, this year we again had not harvested all our carrots. We had a ton! They grow like weeds here. Except much tastier. Now, part of why we didn't harvest them was NOT laziness. It's that the earth itself acts as a root cellar. No pun intended, but carrots are roots. And omg I just realized that root cellars were the first "fridge". Necessity. Invention. Turn on, ye wheel o' time and life. Sorry. Insomnia here. End digression.

As I mentioned earlier, spring is starving time. The jobs are as dried up as last autumn's corn stalks. I really wanted to make some soup, and I knew there were carrots down in the garden. However, being under a couple feet of snow and all, the location was hard to pinpoint, but I guessed it out. An educated guess, of course. I only say that because I think on every test I ever took in high school the instructors would precaution us with, "now, if you don't know the answer, make an educated guess". I found the carrot patch. But the earth was rock hard frozen solid. I was bummed; I figured whatever we had left unharvested was ruined. Unreachable, anyway, to find out for sure, but what hope was there that they could have survived a frozen bed of dirt? This is the bed of dirt:

The last few days it has been warm, in the 50's even, the snow is all but gone (it hides in the shadows like a sneak), and it's like I can taste the memory of summer, a half remembered dream, a promise, a silent hope. Ugh, did I mention the insomnia? It's making me woozy. Anyway, this morning I felt, well, hungry, and angry at winter. I set my jaw and clenched my fists with determination and I swore that I would find those carrots, whether they were dessicated or not. I flung my trowel into the ground with the fervor of a spartan against his enemy. And holy cow to my surprise the dirt was soft and totally yielding. The tundra-like perma frost has been defeated. And even more amazing, the carrots. Oh sweet carrots, how do I love thee? The carrots had survived, resisted even, Old Cranky Man Winter. Not to mention this was a record year of snowfall, the most in 17 years here. It was a fabulous, joyful harvest. Food pulled up out of the ground, I felt like I created it, like Tom Hanks in Castaway, when he finally makes fire and he shouts out his prowess to the world. Probably it was god, or mother earth, or the great spirit or whatever you call divinity. It was certainly a gift. "Carrots! I have carrots!!!" Sing and rejoice. Have some soup. Warm your bones in the sweet sun, your hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

And my last digression, speaking of soup and carrots: When I had my wisdom teeth out (which is the nicest way to put it, seeing as the dentist had to actually cut into my BONE to extract those suckers and it took weeks to recover, adding the upper tooth hole tearing into my sinus's making me sick so really it should be called 'having body parts torn, mutilated, and amputated) for two thousand dollars WITH insurance.. I'm so not bitter. I swear. Ok maybe just a little. ANYway, during that awful recovery, my mom took really good care of me, and her mom, my Granny, came over and made me carrot soup. So dang delicious. I couldn't eat solids, and I actually lost something like 15 pounds in the first two weeks after that traumatizing yankage. She even bought me a blender to make the soup with. If I had the recipe I'd share it pronto. Hey, look at that, again the wheel turns and I'm back at an earlier realization: people who give their shoulder to lean on, wanting nothing, and giving out of pure love. I feel damn lucky, and I tell ya, it's not just the carrots.

Spring is Starving Time

2010-03-04T12:13:00.000-08:00

At least that's what the pioneers called it. They'd just about exhausted their winter stock and it was too soon for the garden to be producing. One bad winter, according to Laura Ingalls Wilder, (a hero of mine, have you noticed?), they each had 2 slices of bread a day. For like two months. It was getting to where they were debating; kill our milk cow for meat now and go with out milk and butter for a year? or hang in there? And the cow wasn't even producing milk in the winter 'cause it was her starving time, too.
Well, I'm not THAT poor, heck, I'm living like royalty compared to that. I'm piecing together a teeny bit of work here and there. I'm getting very creative with making my own breads (rosemary, yum!), scoring on food from the dollar store (one buck for a box of saltines!) and dried beans and stuff. You can make like 3 pots of soup out of a dollar bag o' beans, an onion, and a couple carrots. Eat with your homemade bread and yay!! And I do allow myself the luxury of butter. Everything's better with butter! And cheese. Cheese is hard to go without. Ooh! In fact, I'm making homemade pizza today! Dough from scratch, sauce from scratch, and cheese and onions and garlic for toppings. Drool.
Luckily Old Man Winter is losing his titan's grip on the landscape as well as the snowbird economy. Way too slowly, though. I want to work, and garden, and be warm and merry! I want a full fridge, a full bank, and of course a full smile. I tell ya, Frugal Frannie looks like Paris Hilton right about now. At least there's always loved ones. Peeps who give you a good shoulder to lean on out of pure love. And laughter. Not having laughter would be like not having oxygen. Let me share some with you.

A: Genevieve is oh so innocently watching the birds.
B: A beautiful bit o' bead work my friend handmade for me! That's lot's of B's.

C: Not so innocent anymore. Or graceful. No, you cannot pounce through windows. Contemplating level of stuckness versus possible unentanglement / escape routes.

D: "Hmmm,what is this fun shiny dangly thing?"
E: Really cute toes.

F: F is for fail. Because suddenly shiny dangly thing looks like good noms! "Nom Nom.... Ack! Mom! I wanted that!!" Yeas dear, it's only the THIRD globe I'm on since you broke the first two. Luckily this time the only thing busted was my gut from laughing so hard.

Well, there you have it. Life is ups and downs and spin you around till you're laughing or sick. Still, sometimes I think I'd settle for a kiddie ride. The only time I want the full fledged roller coaster is when I picked that line and when I get off the ride I can leave on nice, solid, level ground. And get a funnel cake. With powdered sugar. Mmmm.

The Perfect Grilled Cheese Sandwich

2010-02-22T11:01:00.000-08:00

Omg it is really snowing like crazy. This morning when I opened the door for His Royal Highness Majesty (Pheonix) I was totally shocked. I mean, I knew snow was in the forecast but whoah! We got a good 8 inches last night and it is not ceasing! I can't see the yonder hill; nothing but a wall of white. That is another of my high tech detection systems.

Digression. Yesterday it went from snow to sun to snow to sun every 20 or 30 minutes! It was weird! Blue skies to white wall. The snow didn't stick though, it was too warm. LoL Mom calls it chubby rain. Big fat flakes that melt on impact. End digression.

Where was I. Oh yes, Pheonix was ever so delighted (large drip of sarcasm here). However, he pulled on his coat of brave indignity and went about his business. 2.3 minutes later he was quite ready to readjurn to the bedroom.

I decided a hot meal was in order. Actually, I think I will always prefer a hot meal over a cold one, but the snow just adds that much more need for it. I surveyed my materials. I considered my laziness. Then my stomach said Dammit woman I want a fancy grilled cheese so git off your bum already! And I acquiesced.

Okay first things first here. Butter. Butter is your friend. I don't mean your heart's friend, or your arteries. Fine. Use Smart Balance. It's good stuff too. But here's another temperature / weather indicator: my butter is hard. What the heck? It's supposedly... oh. 65 degrees in here. Well that's what microwaves are for. So get yourself some nice soft butter. Then of course bread- potato is my favorite. Obviously cheese; I had colby jack on hand. Slice it thin! OK but here's the exciting part. Dice up some onion and tomatoes!

K, so butter the bread and lay it in a frying pan- lowest temp! Then butter it on the face up side. I know. Arterial clog. Layer cheese, then onions and tomatoes, then GASP! Secret ingredients about to be revealed! A dash of salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper flakes. Then more cheese. Then the top piece of bread BUT! Butter it first because, see, this stops the innards from slipping out when you flip it! Amazing! Butter as glue! And then you must butter the top of the sandwich so that when you flip it it will be ready for the pan surface. Put a lid on it (no I did not just tell you to shut up) 'cause this helps the onions get really soft. Don't want to bite into raw onion, ew. Flip it after ten minutes. I know, its a long and stomach grumbling time 'cause then you have to wait ten more minutes on the other side.

This picture is blurry because, umm... because it's portraying the gooey goodness of this sandwich! Yeah that's it! Well, anyway, this is my version of a grilled cheese and I just droolingly love it. If you try it I hope you do too :)

Things to do when you're snowed in.

2010-02-21T09:54:00.004-08:00

Jan 31st*
* Well that's when I wrote this, and we're looking at 2 or more days of snow again so I figured why not share these helpful hints!

Exhibit A. My car, far far away. The sadness. Poor lonely car, unable to serve her master, to fulfill her purpose in life.
Exhibit B. Scary, scary, non driveable driveway. In fact, we should change your name to... slideway. Or something. You are denying my car her very reason for existence.
Of course, I always think, WWLIWD? What would Laura Ingalls Wilder do? She would probably be appalled by my slothy ways. But I'm sure she'd be too polite to say anything. I bet she would also find my attire disturbing. Anyway! Let's get down to business here.

So! things to do when you're snowed in (using the term loosely here).
1. Make snow labyrinths! Work up a good sweat stomping meandering trails that intersect here and there, and stomp those suckers down good! Then later you can wonder why you didn't make one nice straight path to the driveway...

2. Get a (self) manicure! Since you bought the nail polish for one dollar it will chip if you even look at it funny! Which means you must touch it up constantly so hey! More time consumed waiting for snow melt! Oh and yes, I'm very white. It's winter. Tans are for summer. I can't help it.

3. Make snow tunnels and caves for your kitties, 'cause trust me, you aren't the only one with cabin fever.

4. Watch too much TV. And while you're at it, thank god for high speed internet to provide you with said entertainment. And netflix. Thank them too for the insta watch action. I think I watched season one AND two of The Tudors. And maybe some Flashforward.

5. Oh hey! Take a shower because the pipes haven't frozen today and no need to be stinky. Plus the warmer you feel the better to combat old man winter.

6. A good stock of high quality beer helps. Coors Light, baby. I bet King Henry the VIII would drink it. Then spit it out and order some one beheaded. He was into that. But I'm not some royal monarch so I can drink it.

7. Make random and strange lists! ...

8. Tear through the house, up and down and back and forth, shred wallpaper, knock over glasses, kill the s*** out of a roll of toilet paper and drive your mom crazy! Ummm that was Genevieve's idea for the list. You know, it's scientific fact that the cute factor saves lives.
And now, I must go follow these directives. Oh one more thing! Wear cozy pajamas!!!! No wonder Laura would look at me funny...

PS: Genevieve is GASP curled up next to me and not wreaking havoc... and she is snoring... the cuteness is unbearable. Good job mother nature. Throttle averted.

PPS: OMG I would never throttle a kitty!!!! But I bet all parents have fought the urge once or twice when their kids go crazy. This is where a good loud "AARGH!!" comes in handy. And then I laugh. I tell ya, a good arrgh really helps and laughter ALWAYS does. OMG I am going to melt in preciousnous overload over her snoring. Wish me strength.

The snow, it does not go.

2010-01-26T10:09:00.003-08:00

Hmmm... neither does my car. Driving the level part of the driveway, even in 4 lo, was slippery. Ok, I need new tires. Yesterday I got a lift down to my car (it was at the bottom of our hill) and got to the grocery store to stock up a bit for the next snow. This always happens, too- I go to the store for just a few basic supplies, only grabbing a hand basket, and then end up so over loaded that I can barely lift the thing, not too mention my other hand is full of stuff, too. Which was actually not thinking ahead as much as I thought it was because... then I drove back to the bottom of the hill. And I looked up... and up... and up at the hill that I now had to carry all the groceries up. Plus the bag of kitty litter. Le cry.

Yes, Genevieve, for you. And Pheonix. And Miss Q. And Leonidus. Pheonix and Miss Q are usually outdoors as much as in, and despise the litterbox, but since we've all been snowed in its a 4 cat box. Eew. So I couldn't leave that (heavy) bag of litter in the car. Nor the groceries, though they would probably have stayed refrigerated just fine, if not frozen. So I hiked. And I thought about how exciting the snow was. Was. And then I stepped in a thigh high snowdrift. And then I laughed so hard I had to pause for a moment. I decided to stick to the road and not take a shortcut, but funny how laughing makes everything better, even if it takes getting dunked in a snow drift to make you laugh.

I don't know if you can see, but in the very center of this last photo is the tips of antlers on my awesome elk skull. They are my high tech snow level indicator. There's about 5 inches showing now.. that's up from 2 yesterday. None the day before. Some day the whole skull will show again. And on that day, if you happen to be strolling along my driveway, and you see a jar of pickles, grab it for me will you? There used to be a huge snowdrift there.

2010-01-22T10:55:00.005-08:00

Two days ago.

Note the bench and firepit (center) for landmarks.

Pheonix... does not like the snow. He is not amused.

Then yesterday there was 2 to 3 feet of yucky mushy slushy snow. The forecast predicted much more (they even closed the highway) but I didn't want to get my hopes up 'cause people always seem to blow weather warnings out of proportion. Umm, yes, my hopes... yes, I WANT to see lots of snow. Well, wish granted.

This morning when Pheonix demanded to be let out, I opened the door and found myself pushing snow with said door. Have I mentioned my door is 3 feet off the ground? Well, poor Pheonix, he really had to pee. So after much eyeballing of the situation and a tentative groping paw pat, he took the plunge. Literally. Hopped to what I guess he thought must be the bottom of the steps. ...and promptly disappeared. And oh em gee did I laugh so hard. I mean, I tried not to, 'cause I swear cats can tell when you're laughing at them, but when his head popped up all covered in snow I just died laughing. Pheonix took in the situation, did a little butt wiggle, and leaped right back inside. Then, to add insult to injury, he had to use the litterbox. Oh the humanity!!

He then gathered what grace he could to perch at the window and glare at the snow. How dare mother nature not acquiesce? The sheer appalling rudeness! The indignity!!!!!

Anyway, I hope these pics came up 'cause since my comp crash and camera death it's been trouble getting photos online! Thanks to Mom for letting me use her camera! If they do show up: this is this morning- the lump on the right is the fire pit.

And it's still a comin'! Lost power once trying to post this but have it back.. for now.. ah the adventure!

January 2010 and I can't sleep

2010-01-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

I'm afraid I have no photos, but I spent the last few days babysitting the neighbors' 14 chickens. I had a lot of eggs. Like, 4 dozen. And like I said, I can't sleep. I love to cook, but I hate cooking eggs all the weird ways people order them at the restaurant. I feel bad about wasting 8 or so of those eggs (starving children in Ethiopia and all!) but I had the insomnia! For some weird reason, practicing my egg skills sounded really, really fun. Is that the weirdest sleep deprived project ever? Probably not. So I practiced. I pulled some over mediums, an over hard, and poached the most perfect egg ever. And at the place I work, scrambled is supposed to end up like some sort of pancake looking thing. I am not down with that but I worked on perfecting the technique ( when MY eggs are scrambled, they are bubbly bits and pieces of cloud looking matter). Anyway, I think it helped me get sleepy. And the eggs will be eaten by a certain spoiled dog who stops by looking for handouts so they did not really go to waste. Cooking practice and spoiled dogs yay!

P.S. Sunny side up. I gotta practice that one.

P.P.S. Maybe over easy is an inherited taste? Me mum n da never made 'em that way, so... I dunno. I'll stick with the scramble. OMG there is one guy who orders them 'basted' I think he calls it... which is poached... in BUTTER.Yowza. Say hello to Mr. Arterial Clog.

Treasure Hunting

2009-08-27T09:08:00.000-07:00

So. Went treasure hunting this morning. Why I got up at 6:30 am on my day off... well, I'm just glad I got sleep at all. Insomnia, you know. Pretty soon I'll be starting underground fight clubs. I kid lol. What's weird is that lately, when I DO sleep, I just have crazy dream after crazy intense dream. But I suppose that's a story for another time, off the subject at the very least, so here ends that digression (there will probably be others though).

Anyway, I got up way too early for a day off and decided to go check out the garden. There's this zucchini I've had my eye on for several days now, and I had a craving for some zuc fried up with eggs and cheese for breakfie. Our zucchini crop has been quite pitiful this year, sadly, so we've all been like vultures circling the ones that do pop up. Well, I hadn't picked it yet when I noticed some tomaters near by... which then led me to a bare patch in the earth. Somewhat like a kitten following a butterfly, I suppose. This bare patch marked where I'd previously dug up a couple of yukon golds. It was a purely experimental dig- see, this particular potato plant had sprung up of it's own accord; apparently, we'd missed a tater during harvest last year and lo and behold, a volunteer!

Now, as I'd only pulled two big taters out of this spot and a handful of little ones, at 7 am this morning I thought, why not? There's bound to be more in there. So I started to dig. And by jove was it a fantastic and exciting treasure hunt, and like any such adventure should be, it was fraught with peril as well as rewards. Not the kind of Indiana Jones, finding gold and jewels, running from giant boulders and head hunters type of adventure, but plenty good enough for me. Yes, I had my share of peril. I encountered TWO nasty scary yucky grubs- tho of course I was gentle and placed them in other pastures even though they GROSSED ME OUT. Also I encountered a big fat earthworm, which yes I know is great for my garden but I have a phobia ok? I bravely ignored my squeamishness and carefully relocated heshe (as I'm pretty sure earth worms are, um, both sexes?).

Anyway, the terror and the dig were well rewarded. Look at this loot. I'm going to make a huge batch of bacon potato cheese soup (yes the former vegetarian has fallen so far) and I'm going to throw in some onion stems- the flower stalks have this exquisite flavor-and I'm going to spread the wealth. I'm going to take some to Mom and Potterman, and my awesome friends/ neighbors Ociffer Martooni (which does her funny side justice but she's a beauty too, also she is the aforementioned bestower and addictor of pedicures lol) and her hubby the king. Not that he is some patriarchal monarch, nor a crooner from Tennessee, but somehow he just ended up with that nickname.

Somehow it just seems like a miracle that this beautiful food grew right here in the dirt in my yard. And I tell ya, you don't see yukons this big in the store, nor would they be as tender as these if you did. It's almost like they have no skin at all. If only I had I good knife for chopping them. Working where I do, with quality utensils, makes me a tad displeased with what I have at home. LOL but I'm happy, and if junky knives are my biggest complaint, then I'm luckier than most.

Wow, so many hummingbirds surround me! (Sitting in the garden writing this.) The daisies are translucent with the morning sun, and even more pleasing to me than these little bomber humming birds is all the bees. They hover 6 inches from my face, scoping the flowers. I know that would freak some people out but it's worms and grubs that get me lol. When I see these bees legs laden and heavy with pollen it makes my heart skip with joy. Bees are the... messengers? harbingers? procreators? of our future. Not to go too far on a tangent, but human kind has tried to replicate what bees do for us and has so far failed. We NEED bees to pollinate our crops. The circle of life, yo. End digression.

Later I'll tell you about my new family members but at this point I don't want to jinx it. I've lost too many furry kids and these new ones are attaching to my heart at an alarmingly quick rate. Plus I think they make my nose run. Lol but it's more than worth it.

If you're lucky, I'll put up the soup recipe, and if I don't, it's really just cuz I'm a slacker. Please pardon my vernacular, like I said, I got up at 6:30 on my day off and I'm about ready to crawl back in bed.

As we always said at the dinner table when I was a kid: rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub, yay God!

P.S. Sorry if the pictures don't show up; I'm sure you've seen potatoes before. My hard drive blew up recently and not only was it a terrible time, I lost many things. Photoshop was one, and it was the tool with which I usually condense photos for the web.

So, guess what?

2009-08-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

The craziest, most unimaginable thing in the entire world happened. It wasn't this hawk, though that was pretty darn cool too. It sat in this tree about 25 feet up for at least an hour. It kept crying it's sad sweet cry. I think it had hurt it's leg, but luckily, not a wing because that would have been a death sentence. All the little birds were really pissed about it chillin' there and kept dive bombing it the entire time it sat there. The hawk would duck if he had to, but mostly just ignored them. And boy were they talkin' some schmack to it, too. Turns out it was a Ferruginous hawk (buteo regalis) and yes regal is a great latin name for them. They are the largest hawk species! Cool!!!! And I got million great pics but I was too lazy to put 'em up. Ha.

Anyway like I said that's not the crazy thing. Are you sitting down? I just cracked myself up because how many people STAND at their computers? Here it is: I got a job... that I LIKE. Omg I think the world stopped turning for a sec there. I never ever believed in such a thing. A job you like? That's like Unicorns and Dragons. A nice story, but pure myth. And the day I ran out of money (well, the liquid cash I'd been living on) I got a job. For good pay, too. I didn't know I was going to like it tho. I figured it'd just be, you know, work. Hopefully tolerable, but even if I hated it I'd have income. And it turns out, I love it.

I'm a sous chef and all I do every day is FUN STUFF!!!!!! I make cakes and pies and rolls from scratch. I peel taters and make tater salad. I even make the salad dressings! I make apple walnut salad and pasta salad and the darn YUMMIEST chicken salad ever!! I boil eggs and peel 'em, and that may sound menial, but to think that I get PAID to do it!!! I get paid to do one of my favorite things ever, prepare food! I mean, some of my favorite websites are just recipe collections and I love reading them. I was considering culinary school for sheesh sakes. Now I'm getting the real deal on the job experience can you believe it?!?! 'Kay I think I'm going to wear out my exclamation key now. Suffice to say, I'm stoked.

4th of July (yes I know it's the 6th)

2009-07-06T08:04:00.000-07:00

So, I have all these great pictures of my recent trip to PA, and I had some of Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell that would have been PERFECT for this holiday. But I'm house sitting in Phoenix right now. (I love starting a sentence with "but" 'cause it's such bad grammar.) And I had all these great blogs planned out based on my trip but... I forgot my "connect camera to computer" cord thingy. I might just have to go buy one- it'd probably be cheaper than the gas to drive home, yeah? And I'm tired of having sad blogs and I know this does her no justice but it's all I can take. Here's the last picture I ever took of Lilly. She's got her head deep in a sour cream container. 'Kay gonna go cry now but after that I'll get back to my awesome trip visiting my loved ones. Whenever I get a cord, that is. Because I've got a lot to share. Wow, I started sentences with "and" and "because", too, which I think is also incorrect. Ah well. ttfn.

Dis One Happy Kitteh

2009-06-02T09:32:00.000-07:00

Yes dear, that is why I planted those rows of corn.

Just for you.

Because it's the perfect kitty bed in the warm afternoon sun.

And it just doesn't get any better than that.

Now cover your ears because I can't hold back the high pitched AW any longer.

Lil' Dude

2009-05-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

That was the closest thing to a name he ever had. Also lil' booger, and precious angel, and sweet baby. This is him one day old. Actually just under 24 hours, Wednesday evening.

Also 1 day old here. That was when I noticed his big sister didn't look too well. I thought she wasn't breathing right, though I didn't want to be a panicky new grandma. My mom had I already been up all night before with the birthing, and we were pooped. After a while of the girl crying I had to call my Mom, even if it was a false alarm. Which unfortunately it wasn't. We tried all kinds of things, from cat cpr to an inhaler. We thought that she was pulling through whatever it was, but the next morning she was panting again, so we took Mama Leonidus and all the kittens to the vet. Turns out Leo wasn't producing milk, and the vet asked us to leave the babies there, emergency status. They had a mama cat there that they were going to try to get the kittens to nurse on, but they were worried they were too weak even to nurse. It was 11 am. The vet said to call around 2:30.

At three we were able to talk to the technician, and she said we could come get the kittens, but she needed to go over a lot of things. Right after we got there and were shown to a room, we were told the littlest girl had just died. The tech told us that she'd had many a litter not make it even with bottle feedings and supplements, but she gave Mom and me all the things we'd need to try to keep the last two alive. I really couldn't have done it alone, just the 2 hour feedings would have me on sleep deprivation. Mom took the worst shift, too, the wee hours of the morning. The other girl didn't make it through the first night, and I buried her and her sister together the next day.

Lil' dude, though, was a tough booger and he was really hanging in there. Look at that fat belly. His wiry limbs were incredibly strong, and so was his voice when he felt disgruntled. And Leo kept up with the duties she was able to, like washing him. And hiding him. I had to lock her out of my room where he was so she'd stop taking him out of the box with the heating pad; he had to stay warm. When he made it to 7 days I felt like we might not be out of the woods but we had reached a landmark. One week old, another one of those and his eyes would be open, in another he'd be clumsily getting into trouble and exploring the world, eating real food. I've had the pleasure of showing kittens the outdoors for the first time in their lives, and it's never any less exciting for me than it is for them. I couldn't wait to see what he would look like as he matured, having a dwarf persian mom and - I'm assuming- a normal father. What combo would little dude be?

Anyway, he died a few hours into his eighth day. Died in my hand, though I begged him not to, and god to not let him. I buried him with his sisters. That's all I can write because my throat is closing painfully and distraction is how I deal with things like this. I just thought I should finish the kittens' story so that when I never mention them again you'll know why. I know we did everything we could but it just hurts.

o... m... g...

2009-05-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

If a picture says a thousand words, how many words are synonymous with miraculous, precious, and beautiful?

"Lil' black brussels sprout heads", according to my mom, is one. Well I guess technically that's FIVE words. Also, to be completely honest, I can see that they look a little alien. They have bat qualities, with their thin, fuzzy, almost translucent skin. And they can look a little, well, rat- ish. Even kinda like monkeys. And yet they are also the most breathtaking, gorgeous, perfect little beings. I have spent many, many hours just admiring them and it's true, my breath does catch. When Mama Leo lets me catch a peek.

She seems to be trying an "incubate the eggs" method of mothering. I'm kidding, she's just keeping them warm. In fact, it turns out she is a fabulous mother. She purrs and snuggles and kneads the air while they are nursing. If she shifts positions, and one baby isn't happy with that, she keeps adjusting her body until they are all comfortable (omg they make the MOST INSANELY cute baby noises in the universe!!!!! I mean, it's far from meows, it's little cries and snifflings and tiny complaints and sucklings- ok deep breath).

When she finally got up to eat, though, (then relieve herself, then eat... then pee again then eat some more, poor dear, that was a lot of work) I had them all to myself!! They are literally so amazing that I find myself tearing up with a lump in my throat.

Also, lucky for you, if a picture's worth 1,000 words, than five pictures is worth 5,000, right? Five also happens to be the number of pictures Blogger lets me put per post. The little angel brussels sprout adorable alien babies are only 15 hours old and I have 25 pictures so far. If I'd had more than four hours sleep that number might have been tripled by now, but I'm trying for restraint. Yeah, right. Good luck with that.

May 19, 2009, 10:30pm, it's a girl!
One poor baby that never developed and was stillborn, who still deserves to be remembered.
May 19, 2009, 11:30pm, it's a boy!
May 20, 2009, 1:00am, it's a girl!
Congrats Leonidus!!

Volunteers ftw!*

2009-05-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

*For the win. New growth abounds out in the beautiful summer-like weather! And not just where we planted things...

This potato came up on the edge of the bean bed- guess we missed it during last years harvest 'cause all the potatoes we planted this year are on the other side of the garden! There's at least 20 of those coming up. Then another potato volunteered a couple feet away from that one. And then... another in the compost pile hee hee!

Then there's the sunflowers. There're at least 30 of the suckers coming up all over the place- they'll be mixed in with pretty much every other veggie, fruit, and flower bed, from the taters to the peas. Speaking of peas, got about 6 of them that volunteered.

This pretty little clump of red leaf lettuce came up all on it's own, before we'd planted any. So if this is what the garden does on it's own, you can imagine how great it's going to be with all that we've planted- and we've planted a heck of a lot, and the best part is we planted every bed with tons of different flowers, so in the squash there will be larkspur, in the cabbage will be zinnias, and cosmos in the taters. We even planted a couple rows of sunflowers randomly into the corn rows! Can't wait!

Diggin' to China

2009-05-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

I always thought that was a weird expression. But watching Nikita try to get her entire body underground, it made sense. She was going for broke. I don't know what the heck was in there, but she wouldn't leave. Not even for dinner!

I watched for awhile to see if a packrat or bunny would suddenly make a break for it, or if Niki would actually get in there... but then it started getting dark.

"Okay Niki, that's enough," I said. She listened to me about as much as a stump would, so I thought I'd foil her plans with a big rock! And that worked about as well as her listening to me.
I finally had to take her by the collar, but you know what? I'm still curious about what was in there. And now I'll never know. Poor Niki. I feel your pain.

My toes

2009-05-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

Okay, MAYBE you could make it through your day without looking at my toes. Three pictures of them, at that. But I can't. I just want to look at them all day, freakishly long though they are. In fact, having never had a pedicure, I was worried that they would take one look at my toes and grimace with horror. Maybe they would even say they couldn't touch them. Or maybe I was just scared of having a stranger touch my naked feet.

I certainly wouldn't have done this on my own, but my lovely friend, who works hard and plays hard too, wanted to treat me and Mom to this. Mom and I were both scared. We held hands. And it was soothing, painless, and rather pampering.

And now my toes are PRETTY!!!!!!!!!

They're baaaaaaack...

2009-05-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

My arch nemesis.

I haven't had coffee in a month or so and this morning it sounded nice so I brought some to the front lines with me. Yes, the former coffee snob now has a can of Yuban in the cupboard that has lasted... four months? Hey, at least it's organic.

Look at this arrogant tumble weed!! Just growing in my yard like it belongs there. Rude!

And you gotta get the root when you pull 'em- if you just break them off at the surface they WILL come back, with more branches. They're like hydras I tell you! Monsters!!

Does that make me Hercules? I doubt he had flowers painted on his toenails though.

Delusions of Grandeur

2009-03-09T18:54:00.000-07:00

I don't mean the Geo Storm parked next to the earth moving tractor. Though I suppose I could.

Hey look it's my shadow. I should have waved. And is that Mr. Handsome there? Perched just so to catch the last rays of warmth that day?

It is! "Hi Mom!"

"Look, they named a tractor after me. See? Right there! I rule! Isn't that great?"
Ah, the ego. It's a beautiful thing.

2009-01-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

Where were you at 2 a.m. this morning? Tucked cozy and warm asleep in your bed? Flagging down the bartender before last call? Thanking Potterman for getting an ATV? You got me. After a mini road trip, he, Mom and I were stuck in the snow halfway up the driveway. We weren't very far from the house and could have walked it- the snow was only 5 or 6 inches deep. But you see, there's this way of thinking that sets in when you live in a town where you buy your beer from a gas station and the restaurants close in winter.

It's the Stockpile Syndrome. So when we drove by the Safeway 50 miles from home, we had to stop. No, the food wasn't the problem. It was the 9 six-packs of tonic water, several bottles of wine, and a case or two of beer. (I'm sure there were some non-drink related beverages, but they just aren't as important. ) As we climbed the last couple thousand feet toward home, it started snowing. And when it's that cold, you can't leave sealed containers of liquid in your car. Well, you can. Go ahead, I dare you. I'm just glad it wasn't a lesson this cali bumpkin had to learn first hand.

Anyway, what does this have to do with the bald eagles that have moved into the neighborhood? I daresay I digressed a bit, that's what. Ah yes, the trip. I didn't see Pheonix when I got home, but I figured he was just out being man of the yard. But when I woke up at 11 he still hadn't come home. A handy snow trait: I can tell if my kitties have come or gone. So I geared up in all my snow armor and took off to find him. Everywhere I walked there was only unblemished snow, not a print in sight.

Just as I was starting to really panic, a bald eagle flew over me, maybe 30- 35 feet up. It was amazing, beautiful, majestic... and big. Really, really big. I walked quicker and kept calling my kitty boy. I was nearing a neighbors weekend cabin when I thought to stop and listen for a second. Nothing. I went on, calling, stopped again. And there was the tiny high pitched meow that incongruously belongs to my big handsome cat. He crawled out from under the cabin, never breaking the ceaseless stream of merr-owwws that he and his sister have mastered.

Whether he was snuggled for the night or hiding from eagles, I don't know, but he appreciated the lift home. And the warm canned food. And my cozy, warm bed where he is sleeping right now. I guess I have to accept that I'm in the wilds now, with coyotes and eagles eyeballing my cats, where four wheel drive isn't just for show, and the beer comes in cans. Luckily I think Pheonix realizes it, too. That's why he switched to tuna juice. And two foot drive; human required.

The Graceful Queen

2008-12-25T15:25:00.000-08:00

Ho Ho Ho and a bottle of rum spiked egg nog, merry christmas!

Lilly decided she wanted to srike a pose up in a tree like her brother did. She can be master of all she surveys too!!!! "Just gotta find the right branch..."

"Holy crap!!!! That branch was dead! Aaaaah!!" At the last minute, using her inborn ninja capabilities, Lilly grabbed a hold before falling... GASP.

"Maybe I should just let go.. it's only a four foot drop." Oh. Okay, yeah, that's not so bad.

"Wait! Maybe I can pull myself up. Hey, bro, lend a hand will ya? don't just stand there laughing."

Uh oh. That just got her swinging. Pheonix gets closer for the show.

"Craaaaaaap....."

Let's go for that royal pose another time, shall we? Lilly makes a dang pretty picture, but she can be clumsy. When I knock stuff over I call it pulling a Lilly, and in fact, as I was sitting here typing this she jumped onto the shelf above my head and knocked a cup of pens over, which rained about me and barely missed my head! But you know, she catches mice and birds so she can't be all thumbs and left feet. I think it's more that she doesn't care if she knocks stuff over. I mean, who put it in her way in the first place? Dang humans. Taking pictures when we should be helping!!!!!!

After that she was over the whole, "let's go for a jaunt in the snow" thing. But, it being Christmas and all, she at least got to come home to a tuna feast.

I didn't tell her I was having salmon.

Hermit Ranch in the White Mountains

2008-12-23T14:56:00.000-08:00

The majestic felines of Hermit Ranch enjoy all that life has to offer. They sit in the sun, watching the birds play, and plan their next meal.
"I'm ready for my close- up now."

They stalk said meal in the branches of pine trees, stretching their muscles, testing their mighty limits. This stunning male can hold still for minutes. If you don't count the tiny twitch at the tip of his handsome tail.

Feng Shui Lilly: since all meals are provided for the cats, if they don't feel like hunting they can spend time contemplating the universe's place in their lives (because they sure as heck wouldn't sit around pondering their place in the universe). Or maybe she's just telling the servant that she is NOT ready for her close up at this time so back up or "I KEEL U".

And sometimes, while surveying their kingdom, they strike a mighty pose and declare their superiority to the world. Hermit Ranch: home to the greatest species on the planet.

Guest Edited by Pheonix the Supercat

Snow

2008-12-21T14:40:00.000-08:00

I still love it. I take pictures of it. Lots of pictures of just white, so that when I put them on my computer I wonder if maybe I was shooting with a white lense cap on. Pheonix is tolerating it with no more than his usual complaining. (He has a large sense of self entitlement. I'm pretty sure if it was up to him it would only snow in the dog's yard. Still, he also has a giant ego so he knows he's way tougher than a little snow.)

However, the snow melts and clumps fall off of branches, making scary noises. "What was that? Don't worry, I'll get it. Rawr!"

"ZOMG what was that???"

"Oh. I knew it was my shadow. I was just testing. Gotta keep my reflexes sharp you know. Okay, my feets are cold now."

See, I KNEW those snow boots would come in handy.

Finally!!

2008-12-16T15:10:00.000-08:00

No, not "finally, the big fat slacker put something on her blog". Finally it SNOWED!!!! They canceled the Thanksgiving snow (yes, "they" are that powerful. Why else would gas be ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS a gallon when it was over four dollars just a few months ago? Because "they" want to mess with our heads. I'm just kidding) Of course, it's supposed to be sunny for the next couple weeks... COLD but sunny. The snow will at least stay in the shady places, but still, I want more!

So does Nikki. Every single time I looked at her she was burying her muzzle in the stuff. Lil' knucklehead.

Pheonix and Lilly have gotten extremely bulked up, and don't seem to be fazed by the cold blanket of white. That's just his usual level of complaining. Are those the CUTEST LIL' PAW PRINTS EVER????!!!???? Leo, on the other hand, seems to have chosen to just stay inside 'till spring.

I looooove having seasons. It's just so exciting and beautiful, and variety is, well, you know how the saying goes. Oh, and by the way? Not a big fat slacker. More like a relaxed, slimmed down vacationer. Hee hee. I have lost almost thirty pounds since I moved out here!! Where's my chit? I want a chit. You know, a little reward chit that says 25 lbs on it. Like sober people get. Yeah, so I can say, "lookit my chit. I rule!" Or maybe it could say, "184 to 159". Except then people would KNOW how much I used to weigh. Oh wait. Heh. Well it's the 159 that matters now. At 5'7" I'm QUITE content. In fact, I was still losing weight so I almost had to go buy some ice cream. I don't care what "normal" is, I like having a little meat on my bones. And really, that's the only thing that matters about my weight: MY happiness with my body (health, shmealth).

Oh. And snow. Could I get some more snow up in here????? 'Cause I'm trying to get me a white christmas, yo. A warm, happy, fluffy snow christmas where I can drink all the eggnog I want. ;)

Ooops.

2008-12-14T14:37:00.000-08:00

Remember back in April or May when we had a late late snow and we ran out to bleed the lines? Drain the water ways and what not? (Bleed the lines just is a cool sounding expression and I had to use it. Actually now it sounds kinda gross. Anyway.) Weeeelllll we had an early freeze- this was the first week of November.

Sucks, but fascinating too.

I threw in my foot for a little size reference here... not that helpful if you don't know that I have giant feet. Size ten and proud of it, baby! Hmm. I seem to be wearing flip flops, which could be latent California in the blood stream. On the other hand, I used to talk schmack about the crazy peeps wearing shorts and sandals in the winter- and there's a lot of 'em in Cali, but I was never one. So now that I live where it actually snows in the winter I choose to pick up this habit? /Shrug. Who knows?

Actually, I bought some fantastic snow boots and they keep my feet nice and toasty. Not that it has snowed yet.... grrr. It was supposed to around Thanksgiving but it so rudely did not. I'll just keep hoping... and restrict my flip flops to indoor use. At least till April. Or May.

Some Cool Night Sky

2008-12-12T10:07:00.000-08:00

AAAAAAH the sky is falling!!!!! Hmmm. So there were two planets and a moon (don't ask which planets I don't remember) out the other night, and it was dang beautiful. I HAD to get some pictures but I couldn't find the thingy that connects my camera to my tripod. I tried to hold reeeeal still but...

Eek, now we're going sideways!!

Ok that obviously wasn't working, so I went over to the woodpile and set my camera on it, but I couldn't really see out the viewfinder too well so now instead of the sky falling it looks like I'M falling and snapping a shot on the way down.

At this point I heard a very loud scraping growling noise off in the darkness. Close. I'd turned off all the house lights so I could get better pictures, and I couldn't see more than 30 feet. There wasn't enough moon for light, but along the driveway are some solar powered lights. They fade away as the night wears on, and were barely a dim yellow at this point. Suddenly I didn't care so much about the awesome view.

I made myself not run, but I walked backwards very quickly to the house. Like I'd turn my back!! I slammed the door closed (and locked, you never know about them coyotes- and zombies of course) and turned the porch light on. I was scared to look but scared not to, you know? I sort of expected there to be a monster staring back at me when the light came on. I went to the windows to see if I could take pictures from inside, but no good. Plus I didn't really want to get close to the windows.

Now, you'd think that would be the end of it, right? I wouldn't go back outside just cuz of a couple planets? Right? Would I? You got me. I totally went back out into the boogey man infested night... with the porchlight ON. Which ruined all my shots so I never got a good one anyway. At least I also didn't get eaten.

I'm not Superwoman... part 2

2008-12-10T16:05:00.000-08:00

It was 30 degrees out. I could see a hard glitter of frost on the ground. The rock in my hand was like a block of ice and my fingers were going numb, naked in the cold night. The growling continued unabated. The adrenaline was leaving my body a shaky mess and terror was gnawing it's way into my belly; worse, it would begin to leak out my pores and drift towards the thing growling in the dark. A signal.

Clarity returned and I knew I had to get back inside. A rock? I needed a gun for this type of heroism. Or would that be lunacy? Could the others in the pack be creeping in around me? I knew that even if I did get a second surge of adrenaline I was certainly no match for a wild predator, let alone seven or eight of them. I suddenly felt very squishy. My flesh would rip easily in the jaws of a coyote. The stand off had to end, and I was really hoping for only one conclusion. Me, safe and warm inside with my kitties and a fresh brew.

By now my toes were numb and I was shivering from the cold as well as the energy drain and the fear.I renewed my yelling at the coyote, but it was real words this time- mostly curses. And I started walking slowly, sideways, back towards the house. Somehow there was a stick in one hand that I didn't remember grabbing. It was very light weight, practically useless as a weapon, but I didn't let go of it or my rock. I kept my eyes strained at the darkest shadows to catch any sign of movement, but the growling was fading as I neared sanctuary.

I never ran, but I made it. The warmth was almost painful, and it was hard to unclench my fingers from the rock. My shaking was violent now, the delayed reaction like all the fear of the last ten minutes (or was it an hour?) injected in one concentrated instant. I said "holy crap" about fifty times. When the shaking slowed I called up a friend I knew would be awake at that hour. I had to tell somebody, I needed the calming words of a pal. As I told the story to him, the words took the last of my trembling, and my bones slowly warmed.

I know it was stupid. I'm not superwoman, and I can't take on a pack of coyotes in hand to hand combat. I knew that out on the frosted hill, and I still know it. Next time I'll take a gun. That's right, I said next time. It's one thing to be stupid, but it's another entirely to be a coward. When a loved one's life is on the line, you lift that car off your baby even if it breaks your back. And you don't regret it.

I'm not Superwoman...

2008-12-09T15:38:00.000-08:00

What does it mean when you wake up, stumble toward the coffee maker, and find a dirty rock and a branch on your kitchen counter? It means you blame the coyotes for your cats disappearance.

It was late, a little after midnight. I was enjoying a cold can of Miller Light- okay you're right, way too strong a word there. I was drinking a can of Miller and dreaming of a bottle of Gordon Biersch. I was at my computer(of course) when I heard them. Howling and yipping, a whole pack of them, making those yelping screams they do when they've caught something. Maybe something warm and furry, or maybe just a trail. I hear them often, all over the hills that are their territory. I always look, but I've never seen them as a pack, only the occasional loner. And let me say for the record that Arizona coyotes look like wolves. They make the coyotes back home look like little foxes.

This time they weren't off in the distant forest. They weren't in the surrounding area at all. They were in my driveway. You know the standard tale used to illustrate a person's powers when adrenaline flows freely: mother lifts car off baby. Well, when I heard them that close, there was certainly no thinking involved. I'm sure there should have been, though, because the adrenaline the blasted through my system was was accompanied by pure liquid rage. Goodbye rational thought, hello to the woman whose cat just disappeared, the cat she saved from death by injection, the cat who slept tucked under the covers with her.

I barreled outside, roaring and waving my arms above my head like a crazy person. In the half moon light I saw them, dark shapes fleeing in every direction, some to my left, some to my right, some towards the neighbors and some for the hills. I chased them for about 300 feet, (total complete random guess there) and stopped when there was only one left. One that wasn't running.

I still had my beer in hand- I didn't remember running out with it. It didn't feel like a particularly good weapon, so I stooped down and traded it for a rock. As I felt for a big one I realized that crouching down made me look smaller. I kept my eyes locked on the shadow where the last coyote was. The moon light hid it, but I could hear it's growling loud and clear. I yelled at it, unintelligible wordless rage... but I was feeling fear creep in around the edges. I knew that wasn't good- as much as adrenaline could save me, fear could kill me. So I threw the rock and grabbed several more. The coyote backed down the driveway and out of range, but it kept growling and wouldn't go further. It was a stand off.

Maggie May

2008-12-07T15:26:00.000-08:00

Maggie disappeared one month ago. She hated the outdoors unless I was there, and still would meow continuously until we went back inside. She slept under my covers every night. I know she loved me and would never leave, so I am having a hard time pretending that she went off to find her way in the world. However, denial is my favorite coping mechanism, so I just don't think about it. Still, I had to explain why I went aggro on a pack of coyotes, so now you know.
I love you, Maggie. Maybe now you and your sister are playing together again.

Lilly

2008-09-12T18:47:00.000-07:00

Lilly is one beautiful lady. People have often asked me if she's purebred. Then, eyes widening when she rolls in the dirt at their feet in greeting, they might ask me if I groom her daily. Truth is, she's a "mutt" from the pound, and the only grooming she gets is whatever she gives her own self. Her brother, handsome boy that he is, looks just like her, facial structure, natural eyeliner, roman nose. Yet he's a pink toed tabby. Well, she has pink toes too, but I was thinking of Maggie, of the black foot tribe, who is also a tabby, but looks nothing like P or L.
Then, admiring Lilly and thinking these random things, I turned down a well worn path: Why do a black cat mom and a white cat dad not have grey kittens? I mean, I understand that Pheonix (yes, I know I spell it "wrong") and Lilly had different dads and the same mom, which, really, is weird enough as is, but it explains their different coloring and same bone structure. But it still doesn't explain the whole "grey" thing. I guess it's kind of a funny irony, that life isn't black and white, but instead many shades of grey- and yet, cats, independent creatures that they are, are black... and white... and orange mottled black with diversity.
However, beautiful and diverse as Lilly and her fellow felines may be, I bet her morning breath is way worse than mine.

I hope I didn't over share with that last picture there, but really, you're lucky I couldn't find the one with the actual squirrel brains leaking out. I'll shush now. I hope I didn't ruin anyone's dinner. I promise, fluffy bunnies tomorrow. Or at least no dead things. Well, maybe a skull.

A Moment

2008-09-11T08:17:00.000-07:00

A lot can happen in a month, and I'm working on amassing all the info and pics that pertain to my last month. Today is not the day, though; today is a Blog of Silence, in memory of the lives lost on 9/11.

Diamondback Rattler pt 2

2008-08-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

Ok I was just kidding again. Found this little snake when I was out for my evening stroll- dusk is my new favorite time to head out into the forest, with the full moon coming up the dark isn't a problem. Anyway, she didn't move until I stepped really close to look at her. Then Maggie saw her and was after her. I hadn't identified it yet and I was like oh crap what if it's poisonous??

Maggie chased her, and though she was a darn fast snake, she stopped "running" and changed her defensive tactics. She curled into a writhing swirling ball, keeping her head tucked in the middle and flailing the tip of her tail as a decoy head. The fact that she wasn't in a more aggressive stance made me pretty sure she was harmless, but I grabbed Maggie away just in case. Plus, I didn't want her to hurt the snake- I wanted to see it closer.

This is what I put her in, for the brief ten minutes of captivity she suffered so I could take some pics. This is just so you can see how small she was- maybe 13 or 14 inches. I never touched her, though. I took my shirt off and threw it over her and then gathered her up. Don't worry, I had a sweatshirt around my waist so no forest animals were subjected to indecent exposure.

Aren't her scales gorgeous? They're like gems.

After I let her go back to nature (exactly where I found her) I went on with my stroll- and not 5 minutes later a HUGE owl swooped across my path, ten feet away from my face. At first I thought it was a crow, because we have a family of some very large crows living here, but then I saw the round head and flat face, and it was bigger than the biggest crow (Wow my brain is not doing well with words today. I took an allergy pill and now I'm all sleepy. At least my nose doesn't itch anymore). It never made a sound or even flapped it's wings. Just glided by. THEN I saw a lightning show better than fireworks. Nature was on a roll last night.

I just realized that I captured an unidentified snake- the same day that I screamed bloody murder because there was a caterpillar by my front door. Mom had to come rescue me by taking it somewhere else. EEEEEEK it wiggled all fast and scary!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The snake was really active, too, but that's just not my phobia. Huh. Was Potterman's though. He was a wee bit alarmed when I walked in all proud of my catch. Flying, heights, spiders, small spaces... What's your phobia?

I love abandoned buildings and racists suck

2008-08-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

This is an abandoned restaurant/ bar. It fascinates me because I've always wondered what the planet would be like after people. Now, I don't really want humans to to be wiped off the earth, but I would like it if we could all get along. So here's my dilemma: I just met the most racist person I have ever encountered in my life.

This is looking through a hole in the door- of course I imagined a bony hand grabbing my neck as I leaned in and tried to get a shot. I couldn't see much to my right except for a chair... a chair guarding the door? Holding a phantom bouncer? The real reason (suuuure) I couldn't go inside is because of the hantavirus. Also called the Hunta virus. It's found in rodent droppings and saliva, and you can get it just from inhaling air where rodent droppings lay- aka, abandoned buildings. Too bad this slipped my mind earlier in the day when I walked through an abandoned auto shop. Anyway, it's something like 99% fatal- out of all reported cases in the U.S., only two people have ever survived, both teens. In fact, the little girl who my Mom does the Big Sister program with- her mother died of it.

So, when I meet people as racist as the one I did, I think it's why I am drawn to places like this. This guy, well, I'm sorry to go into details, but I need to explain why I wanted to bash his face in. I was saying that there are some gorgeous people of Japanese heritage, and Mexican, too. Heck, any one can be gorgeous on the outside, you all know I'm more of the inner beauty type, but there's nothing wrong with seeing a person's physical beauty. And he said, "yeah, if you like f#%&*@ donkeys and monkeys". I stared at him in horror and disgust. "I'm not racist," he says, "I just don't think species should mix".

I probably couldn't have kicked his ass, but my blood was boiling. I had to settle for ignoring him the rest of the evening, but I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. To me, he is what is wrong with this world. Live together or die alone, right? And the worst thing is, if I am intolerant of him, how can I hold his racism against him? Aren't I supposed to be all Gandhi and Martin Luther King about it? Set an example or something? And if I can't forgive and love and not want to kill people like that, I certainly can't see him changing, either. So, maybe, these abandoned buildings embody that feeling of lost hope for me. I know that being positive is the best bet, but sometimes, when I meet people like that, it feels foolish. How do we, all humans together, get a fresh start?

Somehow I have to accept people like that dude, and people like that have to do some accepting as well. Or these decrepit buildings really are our future.

Confessions of an Addict

2008-08-06T15:19:00.000-07:00

There's my work space. Hey, it's a trailer, kay? And no, I'm not referring to the two computers (both hooked up the internet and both usually on). Although I guess it could be a habbit. A good one, I swear. Look closer.

Hey there's Leo! He ALWAYS steals my spot! He doesn't let me get up for two seconds before he yoinks it. That's Stephen King's The Stand- the extended version YAY 1200 pages of entertainment!!! It was my third time reading it. I guess that, too, could be considered one of my addictions- reading. I definitely have withdrawls if I go too long with out.

But let's look a little closer. Can you guess what's in my purse? Potterman couldn't, but he didn't get a peek. Also, it's not exactly your standard purse content.

It's NOT 20 packets of Taco Bell Fire Sauce. There were only 19.

I live 35 miles from Taco Bell!! Oooooh, I just got to go the other day, too. I went with my gf Flower, and it turns out she loves Taco Bell, too!!! We were so excited. (Can you believe it, I have a real live friend not related to me- not to diss my best friends who are family- or online AND I left home??)

Anyway, this isn't just a little taste of the fast food world, it's entertainment! Here are some quotes from my stash:

Ahhh... we meet again. (I'm happy, too.)
I collect straws.
This space for rent. Inquire within.
Help! I can't tell where I am. It's dark and I hear laughing.
Scratch & Sniff: Gotcha!
The feeling is mutual. (Oh yeah it is)
Marry me. (YES!!)

It's addiction, but it's also a love- love relationship.

Operation Tumbleweed pt. 2

2008-08-04T15:02:00.000-07:00

I was out getting my zen on pulling tumbleweeds- BAD TREE HUGGER!!!!! - and usually I like to make a big pile, or bag full, so I can see my progress. It's more gratifying that way. Mom and Potterman were "down in the valley". See, I'm like totally local now. Back home people talked about "over the hill" not as an age reference lol but referring to San Jose- I know this is duh for pretty much every one who will read this, but just in case- well, here, going to the big city is "going to the valley". Like when someone speeds through town, "oh, they're from the VALLEY" (roll eyes).
When I'm getting my zen on, my brain does NOT get quiet and peaceful. It goes into maximum overdrive. I get all kinds of ideas, and if someone were to walk up without my knowing, they might witness me laughing to myself. Yup, out loud, at some amusing thought I just had. Well, this was one of those ideas. And as soon as I thought it, I got all panicked. What if they got home before I was done????? That would spoil the effect to say the least! So, sweating like crazy (tmi?) I did some record breaking weed harvesting, and a bit of giggling to myself as well. Close to the line of crazy? Maybe, but I never cross it, I swear. Hmmmm.... unless I'm giggling when running through a dead forest in a lightning storm... nevermind that.

I finished before they made it home- actually now that I remember that day, they weren't in the valley. They came home at different times and Mom saw it and Potterman was like, what the heck are those squiggles and lines on the pavement?

LOL I crack myself up. And NO I do not have too much time on my hands!! would you say that to a farmer spraying pesticides? I'm a farmer, man, organic even, AND an artist. The first photo will totally be in National Geographic. Yeah, that's it.

Leonidus the Ewok

2008-08-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

This is my newest family member. (It was about 90 degrees that day and the bathtub was nice and cool- all my plants are outside on a field trip.) Leonidus is 2 years old. He weighs four pounds and will never get bigger, except maybe fatter, and his muzzle is inverted.

See this close up? That is the exact underside of his head- you can see both sides of his strange little mouth/ jaw line. His cheks stick out further than his itty bitty, always running nose. Poor guy, I think it's partly his inbread persian heritage and partly maybe allergies, so I ordered some runny eye/ nose medicine for cats from petmeds- for his sake I sure hope it works.

When he plays too hard he starts wheezing and snorting, much to the terror of Pheonix and Lilly. Thay do NOT know what to make of the strange creature running around in the garden. But you know what? Maggie and him are best friends!!!! They chase each other all over the place and it cracks me up. I felt really guilty about getting a new kitty after Sebastian died, but I also felt terrible for Maggie. L & P tolerate her to an extent, but I wanted her to have a friend again. I was worried, too- what if I got a new cat and they didn't get along?? You can imagine the sloppy grin on my face when I see them play together.

So that's Leo's story. He was a purebred reject who needed a home, whose only companion was a chihuahua that kept him hiding behind the couch, and he had probably never even seen the outdoors. I'm just glad he wasn't declawed. Now he is the happiest little snorty snuffler and, on monday when the medicine comes, hopefully he'll just be happy. I love outcasts. And I love my Leonidus.

P.S. Thanks for the bird identification, Dad! :) I knew I could count on you! I have a book and I tried, but the closest I got was MAYBE some kind of nuthatch. Or maybe a wren. Or maybe... well, like I said, good thing I got you lol.

Pine Cone Bird Feeders

2008-07-31T14:36:00.000-07:00

Okay lemme first defend myself by saying that I didn't have any string, just ribbon. No wait, that wasn't what I wanted to defend. Oh yeah. The whole do or don't feed the wild birds thing. Well, for a long time I bought into the whole anti side. "If you feed them they will forget how to forage for themselves" and, "then if you STOP feeding them they will DIE!!!!!!" But I started thinking that if birds have, say, a favorite berry bush that dies... well, they find another one. And I just can't believe that mother nature would be that dumb to make critters that can survive thousands of years (generation wise) that would die just from one food source drying up. And if that REALLY is the case... well, it's going to sound awful but.... more food for the next critter in the chain o' life. I really, really doubt that my feeding the birds can extinct a species. There. I said it.
So I did what I have always wanted to do, and made these feeders. I tucked peanut butter in all the nooks and crannies of these pinecones and then coated them with seeds. Then I hung 'em up and within a day there were these cute little black gray and white birds all chirping and fluttering right out side my window. In just a few days they had cleaned them 'cones better n' a dishwasher. (I wish I had a dishwasher) So I have been re-coating the cones maybe once a week- they stand empty for a few days SO THERE the birds still have to forage! LOL But man those lil birds make me smile with their acrobatics. And I swear I can tell they're getting fatter. They make me happy and I think it's mutual.

P.S. I am totally Martha Stewart for birds.

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 6

2008-07-29T13:04:00.000-07:00

Oooops, sorry 'bout the hold up peeps. Mom and I went on a five day road trip (well 2 of the days were on the road) visting friends in Colorado.
Oh, and apparently this is not a Raku firing, it's just a pit fire. Some poor art student out there totally failed their class. I'm too lazy to go change all the titles, so let's just get to the final product, shall we?

Nikita sees something in there. Why, it's Potterman! The coals must be dying. Or maybe he's going for a quick sauna. just kidding! Look at that!!!! The pots have emerged!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After Potterman carefully pulled them out with gloves and tongs, we brushed them off. There was much oohing and aahing. There were squeals of excitement. There may have been some hopping up and down and hand clapping.

There was definitely fly catching mouth action. Unearthing treasure from an ancient Egyptian tomb literally would not have been as amazing, because we were THERE. We witnessed the creation of the most beautiful pieces of art I have ever seen.

I think at the time I said "yowza". There just aren't adequate words for these pots- I'll have to stick with the usual suspects; amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, and so on.

Wow.

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 5

2008-07-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

Fiiiiiiire.

Responsible watering.

Testing the oven.

Dem some sweet coals, baby.

I have no idea why I thought these pics were important. See, this is what happens when you get ahead of yourself and plan a six part blog lol. I guess, though, if you didn't know what raku was it's nice to see all the steps. Yeah, that's it, I'm helping some unknown art student research their term paper. Uh huh. Yessir. Pretty amazing that there are delicate ceramic pots and stuff under that crush of fiery coals though, isn't it?

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 4

2008-07-19T13:28:00.000-07:00

Ah, where was I? Pheonix, having overseen the activities the night before, was quite professionally ready to continue his duties. That's his beer bottle from then, I swear. Luckily zombies don't prowl in the daylight, so he got to keep his full attention on the fire.

Oops, which I didn't. That darn sunrise distracted me for a sec there. Holy moly that went up quick!

Whaoh. Look out, Mom. Oh, and there was NO lighter fluid involved. NONE, I tells ya. It was a totally boy scout legit fire. Really.

Oooooh heh heh. Fiiiiire. Fire is pretty. It is mesmirizing. (AARRGGGH I can't spell that word and I even tried googling it grrrrrrr)

Oooh. Fire is hot. Stepping back now....

Frugal Frannie's Friday Fun! pt. 2

2008-07-18T12:31:00.000-07:00

Pardon the intermission in my tale of flames and treasure, but I've been meaning to do a little F.F.F.F. for awhile now. More raku tomorrow!

So.
About 35 miles from here is a super WallyWorld. It has, literally, everything that you could ever need to purchase, but also everything you didn't know you needed. Or wanted. And it's all cheap. Two dollar bottles of wine. Prescription drugs that are 40 bucks a month- for 3 dollars a month. Clothes. Goldfish. Remote controlled mice toys for your pets. Live plants (!!!! no morning glory seeds!!!!! :O GAsp!!!) canning jars, swimsuits, office supplies, microwaves, etc. You get the picture.

Well, Mom and her friend went there, and I opted to wait in the car, because:

IMPORTANT FRUGAL TIP: If you don't go shopping you won't spend money!!!!!!

Sounds stupidly obvious, right? But I challenge anyone to put it to the test. After a half hour in the car, I was getting pretty bored. I thought, maybe I should just go buy a magazine or something to read. Then I thought, a magazine is only a one time piece of entertainment, and at least 3 dollars. I checked my purse. I had several pens. I decided a notebook would be much more productive, and cheaper.

I could have waited in the car for the entire hour and a half, twidling my thumbs and trying to keep my brain from melting out my ears from non use. I could have saved that 97 cents. But I went in. I grabbed the first, cheapest spiral bound, 70 page, college ruled notebook I saw. Actually I pulled the black one out of the stack. Then I all but ran for the check out lines.

Halfway there I considered my flimsy little purchase. Obviously there's no desk in the back seat of a honda. Maybe I should get something sturdier? I went back. I perused the stacks of four dollar, five divider, sturdy notebooks. Just as I reached for one, my little Frannie voice yelled, "NO!!!! You said you would JUST buy the cheapest one, GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!!!!". And I listened. It was tough, and I spent money, but a dollar for not just an hour and a half of entertainment but also mind exersizes and creativity was worth it. And I still have 67 pages left. So....

IMPORTANT FRUGAL TIP #2: For the glove of lod, do not make impulse buys!!! Have a list and resist!! hmmm good chant. Have a list, and resist! Have a list, and resist! Have a list and resist! DO NOT DEVIATE FROM LIST!!

Kay that's all. Good luck.

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 3

2008-07-17T12:25:00.000-07:00

Ah, is there anything better than being up at 5am to light a gigantic fire? How 'bout getting up at 4:30? Which I did. I wasn't sure if Potterman and Mom were up yet, so I went and weeded the garden for awhile, and admired the sunrise. Then I heard Potterman knocking on my door to see if I was awake heehee! So I called up from the garden that I was indeed.

Now, being very responsible adults about to light a huge fire, first we hosed down the surrounding ground and trees. We re-doused the ground as it dried from the heat of the blaze as well.

Yowza. Did I mention how beautiful the sunrise was? You know, I've been catching a lot more of 'em than I thought I would when I quit my job. I honestly doubted I would ever see one again. But sleepy as I am when witnessing them, I am very glad I get to.

But now for the real fun. LIGHTING THE FIRE WOOHOOO!

Oooh, P.S., I forgot to mention an important step in the pre lighting process: Haiku. Or a prayer, or positive words. Do not skip this step! Mom, Potterman and I each wrote something on a piece of paper and tucked them down into the wood. A kind of blessing, or maybe letters to the pottery gods. Anyhoo, soon you shall see how it worked!

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 2

2008-07-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

Pheonix keeps an eye out for coyotes and bears and brain eating zombies, because by this time it was dark and we couldn't wait another day because the faire wasn't going to wait. So we soldiered on. It was a lot of work, standing there with the camera. Cause you know, yiu don't just GET the right shot. Okay I'm so kidding. I was so stoked I was the chronicler and basically all I had to do was watch. See, look at Potterman putting all sorts of chemicals and metals on the pots, for color. I think he even used steel wool, like the kind u wash dishes with. But then again, don't take my word for it. I was just an observer. I think there was some copper wire, too, OH yeah, and I do know that there were mothballs. I think they make blue-green.

Then it was time to bury it all, for people 2,000 years in the future to excavate. Haha.

First some more gentle sawdust to cushion the pots. Then wood. Lots of it. In fact, we ended up piling several feet of wood on. I threw a piece on, and Potterman inhaled sharply. Hey, uh, Hermitgrrl, we gotta PLACE the wood on GENTLY because we are loading pounds of trees onto POTS. OH, heh heh. Duh. My bad. LOL if I was him I woulda been mad, but he just treated it as my learning experience. He kicks ass.

By know we needed light, and I suggested grabbing some outdoor lights we have. Um, but we didn't have a long enough extension cord. So I got my car. I love using 4-wheel drive!!!!!! It's like I'm doing my car justice. Letting it do what it was made to. There's a word for it, kinda. Funktionslust- not sure how you spell it- looks german (sis? you know?) but I read about it in this book called When Elephants Weep which argues for animals actually having feelings and not being just bio machines. Most scientists call it anthropomorphism- giving animals and (lumped in the same category) inanimate objects feelings- but this book was showing how animals get sheer joy from expressing their physical capabilities to the fullest. Like a gazelle leaping across the african plains is apt to be a lot bouncier than one hanging it's head in a cold cement cell in a zoo.

My car is totally expressing funktionslust. And if you have any doubts left on where I stand on the whole debate: Her name is Edie.
Raku updates tomorrow!!

Raku Pit Fire Pt. 1

2008-07-15T12:01:00.000-07:00

These pots are beautiful already, right? (Pheonix is here offering more of his all encompassing supervision). So what business do we have throwing them in a pit and burying them with all kinds of junk and then lighting the whole shebang on fire?

Well, I didn't know what raku was, k? I mean, I knew you "fired" ceramics, but in an oven, right? With heat, sure, but real flames? Really? Cooool. (I have a wee touch of the pyromania. Omg don't tell my dad. LOL jk) So apparently you dig a big ol' pit. And then you throw (see, another word that just doesn't seem right) some awesome pots. Then you put some kinda "sidge" or something on them to shine 'em up. I'm just the documentarian here, I didn't do research, peeps. Then you line the big ol' pit with paper. Don't ask me why, I'm reporting what happened, not why. Heh. So nice to let myself off the hook like that.

Then you pour a buncha sawdust over the paper, like 6 garbage bags full, I know, 'cause I hauled 'em. And it's gotta be from hardwood, k, not pine shavings or hamster cage lining.

Then, when you have a nice, deep, soft bed for the pots, you lay them in. Mom and Potterman demonstrate. Did I mention that I'm just the chronicler? Maybe not in those words.

There they lay, like goods entombed for the after life. You know, like the Egyptians did an stuff? And then Blogger doesn't let you put more than 5 photos on a post so you have to stop. I took over 200 photos of this process- don't worry, I only picked out the best for this tale. But there's still a lot more than 5. So I will continue on a "new" post.

Ok WHEW

2008-07-15T11:21:00.001-07:00

It's all been cleared up- except for the part where I have to learn html code so my pics still can't be copied.... Aarrrrrrrgh for someone who spends so much time on the computer you would think I'd understand them better... when in reality I kinda hate computers. At least, when they don't do what I want. LOL. Anyway, I guess I will go ahead and continue posting- I don't exactly get enough random traffic to worry about it, I guess. Like not locking your door in a small town... the risk is still there, but it's a lot smaller.
Anyway, it's still a happy ending. Yay.

DISTURBING NEWS

2008-07-15T05:29:00.000-07:00

Having just gotten back into the habit of blogging (and with three finished posts ready to go, dangit) I must put my blog on standby until I can protect my work better than having a copyright statement in the margin. A picture was copied without my permission and put on a website with someone else's name. I've already emailed the site but have yet to get a response. I hope it is resolved soon, but at this point I am almost ready to delete my entire blog rather than have my photos stolen. Wish me luck.

live video game action

2008-07-14T08:46:00.000-07:00

Does this look like a sky that's about to spew forth lightning to you? Well, it didn't to me. In California not only did it never thunder and lightning- well, ok, maybe once every 5 years- it DEFINITELY didn't rain in the SUMMER. The SUMMER, fer cryin out loud. Summer has always meant dry yellow hills and heat with no humidity, to me anyway. NEVER would I don a sweatshirt, as I have occasionally this summer. So, the occasional sprinkle and storm has taken some getting used to. And I thought it was done for the day, and I really needed my hike. I've been trying to exercise (man I HATE spelling that word) everyday, you know, only because the camera is making me LOOK fat.

Slight digression, a shout out to my Dad: I fixed my bike up, patched tires and greased moving parts and dusted out and de-cobwebbed my helmet, and have been riding the hills and neighborhood. Sometimes even- GASP- at 7 in the durn morning! That's when I really think about my Dad- and my 4 miles to his 90. Not exaggerating here, either, y'all know he's a bike ninja.

ANYHOO, this hike was pre fixed bike, and, as usual, I took Nikita. In case of bear or mountain lion attack, I plan to throw her to them and run like crazy. KIDDING!!! About a mile out it started to sprinkle, so I put my camera in it's bag. Then, of course, wouldn't you know it, a fricken HERD of deer runs across the path RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I whupped out my cam but, as you can see, was too late. If you look REEEEEEEAL close you can see two of them.

Ah well. Onward I continued. What's a little rain when it's 70 degrees out AND you're working up a sweat. Niki doesn't like the rain at all, though, so she was alternately crowding against me, nearly tripping me, and tugging the leash towards home. Then it REALLY started dumping, and ka-boom BLAM thundering. As the path headed towards a stand of trees I had my first thoughts of turning back. Because under trees is the last place you want to be in a thunderstorm, right? At least I think that's it. Hey, like I said, I don't have a lot of experience with lightning.

I also don't know if the whole "counting seconds between bolts and thunder= miles" thing is true, but if it is, then I figured it was a good 5 miles away. I might have pressed on, but poor Niki was so miserable and we were both getting soaked, so I called off the excursion. As I headed back down the trail, I noticed the seconds between flash and bang were getting less and less, not to mention there were trees AHEAD as well as behind, so I took a visual on home (great views up here) and made a bee line. I was about a mile out still, and I realized that as the crow flies- in fact, ANY way I chose, there were trees. I had avoided the taller live ones and was now cutting through a dead forest left standing after the fires several years ago.

I started jogging. Nikita liked this plan. I dodged fallen logs, whipped through weeds, soaking my legs, tried to keep as much distance as possible between me and trees- which sometimes was less than 20 feet. Maybe even less than 10. Not only was my adrenaline RAGING, I was laughing out loud. I couldn't help it, it was exhilarating and exciting and I felt wholy alive. I paused to catch my breath and check my bearings, yup there was home on the next hill and lightning streaked right over it. I didn't even have time to think WOW when the thunder cracked less than a second later, booming in my chest, hurting my ears.

I may have yelled an expletive. I know I jumped, it felt like 3 feet, straight in the air. The lightning had been a horizontal streak, not a vertical one or I might have been fried. I RAN the entire rest of the way home, laughing and terrified. I made it, soaking. I stripped down and got some warm clothes on, put Niki in her house, and got a hot meal started. Then Mom and Potterman drove up. Apparently they had been out four-bying, scouring the hills for me, honking and yelling, an arsenal of towels and a bathrobe tucked in the car.

Boy am I loved. And boy were they relieved! Apparently I am not allowed to go off hiking without a cell phone EVER AGAIN. At least it all worked out in the end.

Even the sunset.

I did NOT enhance the color in these photos.

Aren't happy endings the best???

garden power

2008-07-13T13:30:00.000-07:00

September '07

April '08

July '08
For breakfast this morning we had our first zucchini from the garden, fried up with onions from the garden, and eggs and cheese, mmm mmm all bundled into fried tortillas. ( Gotta get me some chickens so we can have eggs from home 2.) As we were eating Mom said, "AHEM, you should BLOG about our first zucchini". So this one's for you, Mom. Yeah, it's been awhile- I went to get some garden photo's and when I hooked my camera up to my computer there were 371 pics to load!! As I sorted through them I thought of all the stories I haven't been sharing, but boy have I been busy! The art faire especially was time consuming, mostly all the work leading up to it. I spent 10 hours one day matting photos, and it was more exhausting then a two hour hike! But I digress- this here post is about our fantastic super garden!

It's a gray day, sprinkles here and there and a perfect 70 degrees. We have a bunch of spinach and peas we'll be picking later, for dinner- fresh as can be! I think the best thing about our garden isn't even the fact that it's actually producing- well, maybe it's a tie. I just love how eclectic it is. There's nasturtiums in the tomatoes and onions, morning glories in the peas, and four o' clocks and cosmos in with the carrots, beets, and brussel sprouts (eeeeeeeeeeew, Mom's on her own with eating those).

Even the potatoes are flowering!!! They have gotten easily 3 feet high and we're starting to bury them so they will put out more roots (and taters). The corn is also hitting 3 feet, with huge deep green leaves. There's even a tiny jalapeno pepper ready to go!! Oh my goodness, and the cilantro!!! Tastes so fabulous, and the basil is getting going too. Amazing how delicious homegrown fresh picked food is. We're hoping to can some salsa when we get more tomatoes. Oh, that's Sebastian's grave in that ring by the brussels- don't worry, we only planted flowers on her.

All in all I'm durn proud of the garden, and you know what's even cooler? Yeah, there's some weeds- but the bugs seem to like those best! So we leave a few around as decoys and the rest we lay down as mulch. Can't wait to see it all in another month- I hope the fridge n' cupboards will be a gettin' stocked!

And no... my language does NOT indicate a slow slide into hick-dom, and neither does my sunburned red neck or the fact that I used a piece of wild grass for a tooth pick yesterday, ya hear? Just makin' sure y'all are clear as a jar o' moonshine on that.

Diamondback Rattler

2008-06-12T20:16:00.002-07:00

The sun rises at 4:30 am here. And at least half the time, so do I. Seriously. It's beautiful out then, cool but not cold, rosy, still. I usually go out and walk around for a bit, then hit the computer or some netflix to try and get myself sleepy again. Which usually takes until about 7 or so, then I go back to sleep 'till 10 or 11.

The other morning, my second of the day, I was stumbling out of bed when Mom knocked on my door.
"Potterman says there's a HUGE diamondback rattler sunning on the road!" she said, excited. "Wanna go take a picture??"
"Heck yeah!!" I said, rubbing my eyes and patting at my sleep tousled cow lick. I grabbed some flip flops, a hairbrush, and my camera and off we zoomed.

On the way Mom saw a guy she knew, driving the other direction. We stopped, and so did he- apparently blocking the whole road is "allowed" out here in small towns. It's not like anyone came while we chatted. Anyway, she told him what we were looking for and he said, "Oh yeah, I just saw 'im! Follow me!" And so we did.
And there it was. Four and a half feet long, beautiful... and then, as I stalked it, I thought, you know, maybe flip flops weren't the best shoe for this. But there was no stopping the crazed wildlife paparazzi, oh no. I crept closer and closer, snapping away. I don't think it appreciated the attention, because it started to slither away.
"Do you dare me to pick it up?" Mom kept asking.
"I dare you NOT to," I said.
"I used to be able to do this all the time," she said, "and you used to pick up lizards and stuff when you were a kid."
"Yeah, until the alligator lizard that bit my finger AND WOULDN"T LET GO." I had to lay my finger with the lizard clamped on on the ground and beg it to let go and run away. Last lizard I ever bothered.
So Mom tried to pick up the snake, but it freaked out and jerked from 52 inch line to 10 inch squiggle, so she just petted it. Have I mentioned that it was just a really big gopher snake? Sorry, hope I didn't start any panic attacks out there. I got my photo fix, the snake found a nice safe drain so as not to get run over (or hassled by nature freaks), and Mom got to be the brave one who touched it. Cool. And I got to SOUND cool with my rattler stalking ...until the gopher snake part.

Pretty nifty, eh?

Operation Tumbleweed

2008-06-04T16:08:00.000-07:00

Tumbleweed. It is my arch nemesis. Okay not really. But it's probably at least the spawn of satan. How mean am I to say that about a plant, me, the usual champion of weeds? Well. I met the spiny side of this terror. It is not pretty. And it's not nice. And I've made it my mission to eradicate it from the 4 acres upon which I reside. Which, honestly, is laughable. I could pick a bushel a day and never win the race towards dried- spiny- stab- you- in- the- leg season.

Let me start at the beginning. I love weeding. Always have. Tumbleweed comes up easier than any weed I've ever pulled, which is awesome. It gets my zen on, although, granted, I can really only stand hunching over and kneeling and crouching for an hour, tops. It makes me feel terrible empathy for immigrant strawberry pickers making 50 cents an hour under the table. Oooops, didn't mean to delve into politics there. But since I did...

I moved to Arizona. What if the people here didn't let me? I came for a better standard of living, willing to contribute to the economy and abide the laws... granted, I speak the same language, but other than that, how different is my migration from a Mexicans? We're all earthlings, as granola as that may sound. Yeah, I'm a big fat hippie socialist. Oh well. Back to my racist tumbleweed eradication.

See, I'd only kill in self defense. A mosquito bites me, it becomes a bloody smear on my skin. That sort of thing. Tumbleweed not only bites me when I walk by, but it's an invasive species only here because of man-made conditions. Haha, besides being a fat hippie socialist plant racist, I'm leaving the phrase as "man-made" instead of the (?) PC "human made". Oops, I again digressed.

Anyway, while pulling weed after weed, it dawned on me that it would be cool to see my progress. Plus, my pull n' toss method might just end up as transplanting. So I got a bag and started filling it. Pheonix and Lilly not only kept me company, they graciously volunteered as supervisors. And the weirdest thing happened. This feeling of absolute connect, of rightness, came over me. For one thing, I still need as much mind numbing distraction as possible from Sebastian's freak accident death, and weeding gave me that. But when I actually started collecting the tumbleweed, it was like I was reaching into my deepest gene codes, my most ancient ancestry, filling the primitive need to gather. It's like how campfires can mesmerize you. It's our human roots. And, come to think of it, it's why I think we should look at all people as earth dwellers, united, who cares where lines are drawn on maps and what deity or deities any one of us believes or disbelieves in, or who has brown eyes and who has freckles. We all came from the same place, be it monkeys, cavemen in africa, a god who created us and our habitat in seven days, etc.

I don't know. I don't know the answers to these thoughts and feelings. And I can't say my sense of human kinship will change my curmudgeonly tendencies. Nor can I say that I will live and let (tumbleweed) live. I guess all I can do is what I've always done... try to be empathetic, try to treat others with courtesy and respect, try to be thankful for what I have, and most of all, try to have more love than negativity in my system.

But the tumbleweed is still going down.

Lil' Critters Made of Clay

2008-06-03T18:27:00.000-07:00

I've branched out from turtles. When I make these critters, except for the cats, which are really easy, three or four hours will pass with out me even being aware of it. It's a great escape, 'cause I don't think about anything other than the clay. Even better of an escape than tequila, because instead of waking up with a headache I wake up will colorful, fanciful lil' characters.

Now, Mom, Potterman and I each pitched in 25 bucks for a booth at the local three day, July 4th faire. I am going to attempt to sell some of my photos, some in mats but most just as cards. And I am even going to try to sell some of my clay creations. I feel terribly vain and egomaniacal about it, but that's not going to stop me. If I can sell just one card or photo or critter it will make my year.

However, considering how long the critters take to make, due to the teeny tiny neuro-surgical steady hand and eye focus required, I will at most have 50 of 'em. That's my goal, anyway. Even if I don't sell a thing, it'll be a good experience. Also, I'll have my christmas shopping done in advance because I'll be pawning 'em all of on my friends and family. MUAH HA HA HA HA.

P.S. Ignore the scary bug behind the kitties. While native, that particular individual is dried and dead, so no clay kitties will be harmed by lurking monsters.

AHA!!

2008-06-03T17:15:00.000-07:00

Kay I figured it out.

Hey Peeps

2008-06-03T16:54:00.000-07:00

It's been rough here, emotionally. Physically, weatherwise, it's been one beautiful day after another. I've found many new grief diversions, all better than, say, tequila, but Blogger, the confounded blankity blank is (again) refusing my pics. So I have now composed not one, not two, but FOUR new tales of my adventures here... and as soon as Blogger gets it together and I can have illustrations to embelish my stories, I will.

Thanks everyone for the cards and calls and comments about Sebastian.

And now my hash browns are burning. Be back (hopefully) soon.

Love, hermitgirl.

I spoil my kitties.

2008-05-24T19:57:00.000-07:00

My cats don't like the health food I bought them, but I haven't been giving in to their demands for something tastier. Until tonight. My coping mechanism for dealing with Sebastian's death is my usual method- a kind of sick mix of denial and ignorance. I just try to do anything but think of her. TV is a great distraction, so is the book I'm reading, video games, hell, tequila if that's what it takes.

But today I couldn't make myself forget about her, so with ten minutes to closing I headed for the grocery store. That would make it 7:50, have I mentioned they roll up the sidewalks at dusk here? Anyway, I wanted to get my kitties a treat. Something fantastic that they rarely get, like canned food or tuna. I wanted to make them happy, you know? 'Cause then I would be happy. In fact, I ended up getting them a can of sardines. And some cans of tuna. And some wet food.

The woman at the register, who's always been friendly to me, asked in a most decidedly NOT friendly, maybe even faintly disgusted voice, "you're giving your cats tuna and sardines?!?"

I just smiled and said, "yeah, I think they need to be spoiled tonight." Really, I needed to spoil them for me more than they needed anything special. Not that that's the cashier's business. I mean, I thought they weren't supposed to be judgmental of their customers? Not a good way to get repeat business, you know? I wish I'd said, "are you judging me?" Being polite is it's own punishment, I tell you.

Although, I must digress, and I will be mentioning the purchase of "sanitary napkins" (nice euphemism eh?) so feel free to skip ahead if you be male. Well, once I was buying some and there were no female checkers, which always sucks, I mean, not a lot, but it embarrasses me a little. Anyway, the guy at the register scanned them and then said, "aw man, that sucks. Rough week, huh?" and it made me laugh out loud. I was a regular customer and we'd joked around many a time before, and I knew he had a wife and kids so he understood. Of course, later he got life in jail for aggravated assault and rape, so I guess being understanding doesn't make you a nice guy.

So there's my story. Believe me, I'd like to get back to the fluffy bunnies and rainbows asap, but until then...

Cashier lady?
I spoil my kitties. You got a problem with that? Why don't you worry about people dying in wars and floods and poverty instead of someone buying their cats a treat, which was actually to console my own heartbroken self? Cause that would make a lot more sense to get your hackles up about. And thanks for reminding me why I'm a hermit.

Sebastian

2008-05-22T11:24:00.001-07:00

She started out as a tiny terrified feral. She also started out as Mildred- or was she Mabel? Well, she truly fit as Sebastian when we finally made up our minds about it. Of course, that was after we realized no way could we give the two sisters to a good home. Turned out ours was the good home.

Sebastian was a little more outgoing than Maggie, and she was the one to lead the way when ever they peeked out of the various nooks they tucked themselves into. She was the first to snuggle under my chin, though now Maggie is the one who sleeps in my armpit every night. Under the covers. Sebastian preferred her lap time when I was at the computer. She also loved patrolling the yard with me. The second I stepped out she was running around me, eager to see where we would go this time.

She was a mighty hunter, catching more mice than the other three combined. Of course, proud as I was of her for it, I still tried to save the rodents if I could. Have I mentioned I got this bleeding heart problem? Oh boy, and was she ever a tree climber! She loved our new home in AZ- the small pines and junipers in the yard are a lot easier to climb than redwoods!

And her meow! It was like a dying smoker, "aaaaaah", she'd say. I just loved it.

Maggie and her weren't just sisters, they were the best buds ever. I know Maggie misses her. I let her sniff Sebastian before I buried her, because I thought maybe she should know, instead of perhaps trying to find her. When Roger disappeared, and then Clarence, I thought not knowing was worse. But I was wrong. There are no words strong enough to describe the pain, heavy, thick, smothering, in my chest. It's like I don't want to be awake and have to live with the knowledge of her death. I had less than a year with her, but it only took a day to fall in love with her. The year grew my love exponentially. I got to know her, her quirks, her strengths, and her love. She was my friend, my bud, my baby, my family, my silly little girl. I miss her so damn much. And I love her so damn much.

Sebastian
June 2007 - May 2008

Tough Times in AZ

2008-05-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

I almost DIED in the heat today. It was 85 degrees out and almost dead still. I watered the gardens and my catalpa trees are FINALLY putting out leaves! It was touch and go for a while there. They had started leafing back in CA but the move killed all their new growth as well as the top segment of each one :*( and I thought they might be goners.

But fear not! For they are budding once more. They are so beautiful, really tropical looking with their foot long leaves and huge clusters of white flowers. They grow fast, too, which is cool: 18 inches a year and aywhere from 50 to even 90 feet tall!!!! I'm just so relieved that they're pulling through.

My clematis is too!! Same thing happened to its new growth, but it's put out four new vines, between 8- 12 inches each! Yay!

Anyhoo, as I was saying, it was a rough day. Not only was it hot and windless, I had to stare at this ugly sky! I know! It's like my own private hell. Or torture chamber. I got to- I mean, I HAD to water the gardens in that weather with that sky, man, I am so unlucky.

Buuuuuuut.... I think I'll stick it out. Working 50 hours a week toughened me up for this sort of thing. I wonder if I should start getting up before noon... NAH.

P.S. I know, you want to strangle me, don't you.

P.P.S. OMG. There is now, I cannot believe it... RECYCLING IN TOWN!!!! Sorry Cali, you just ain't got anything over AZ anymore.

Little Turtles Made of Clay

2008-05-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

What do you do when it starts snowing... in mid May? Well, first you run around outside in the wrong clothes (aka not a snow suit) unhooking all the hoses and turning off irrigation pipes so nothing freezes and cracks. Then you breeeeeathe in deeply and smile, admiring the beautiful weather. Then you shiver and run inside to sit by the heater and make clay turtles. I'm pretty sure that's standard snow procedure. There must be basements and attics full of turtles all across America's cold weather climates. Mmmhmmm.

I made my green one first. Then we had all this excess pink clay and beads because Mom and I both have an aversion to the color. I have one pink handkerchief that I love, and a pink rose bush, but that's it. So I decided to dive in and make the prettiest, pinkest, princess girly girl turtle possible. I found myself a little nauseous during the process, but I have to say the end product wasn't so bad. So I made another.

And now I have a turtle bride (complete with lace veil and tiny gold ring, and real pearls, her bridesmaid, and a flower girl. Flower... turtle?

It's safe to say that I never want to make another clay rose again. I guess I didn't put anything to show scale in the photos, but those roses are less than a quarter inch big. I mean small. I think I need glasses after making so many of the things. Plus I used wire hardly thicker than hair to secure them to the shells, which required a steady enough hand that I can now perform brain surgery. I think next time it snows, which may or may not be next winter, I should just gather up a few snowflakes and trace them into rice paper thin sheets of clay for my next turtle's ornamentation. It would be easier than making roses. And don't even get me started on the seed beads. Aka grain of sand beads.

Statistics: California vs. Arizona

2008-05-11T20:00:00.000-07:00

CA: Astronomy = Wait- what're stars?
AZ: Astronomy = Wait- what's light pollution?
(I took this one full moon around midnight- my first night photo where you leave the shutter open for like a minute or more. It was weird that my camera couldn't see as good as me; I could have read a newspaper in the light shining down from the moon and stars.)

CA: $900 a month = studio
AZ: $900 a month = 3 bed/ 2 bath on 3 acres

CA: Sales tax = 8.25%
AZ: Sales tax = 6.0%

CA: One lane roads = yes
AZ: One lane roads = yes

CA: Encounter vehicle on single lane road = get honked at and the one finger salute
AZ: Encounter vehicle on single lane road = get smiled and waved at by driver that has pulled into bushes to allow you to pass

CA: Two Tailed Lizards = There may be two lizards left
AZ: Two Tailed Lizards =

(Okay, maybe that's not a score for either team. Also, the CA line isn't true hee hee.)

And just to prove I'm not bitter...

CA: Recycling = Curbside pick up and numerous free locations, in fact, THEY pay YOU
AZ: Recycling = Drive two hours one way, negating the whole point by trading one impact for another

There! See? Totally not biased. :) Just lovin' my new home.

Weird Things in the Forest

2008-05-07T23:28:00.002-07:00

I went hiking with my buddy Nikita the other day (sometimes I think she's walking me, not vice versa) and we found an ogre's home. Complete with talking donkey. I swear. The donkey sounded kind of like Eddie Murphy..

Then we found the remnants of a castle from the dark ages. Wait, I've ruined my credibility already, haven't I. Okay, so I don't know what it was, but naturally I investigated. It was a perfectly square unit with no portals where you might expect them... no door, no windows. It looked like it was carved from the surrounding rock, but I doubt it actually was. Maybe weather is what gave the building and surrounding rocks a similar patina. "Pock Marked Frost Damage with A Touch of Lichen", I believe they call it at the hardware store. If you have any crusty old castles that need authenticating- don't we all?

When I circled around back I saw that there was an opening after all. I caught a faint whiff of something rank for a moment as the wind stirred. Then it was gone, and I dismissed it as a naturally occurring ogre odor. (The strange building was very close to Shrek's- er, the forest person's hovel.)

The opening on top looked like it could be removed, but for some reason I got a bad vibe from it. You'd think a peace sign would have the opposite effect, eh? But we all know how overactive my imagination is, so I guess it's no surprise I creeped myself out. Still, I did attempt to use my camera's flash to get an image of the innards of the thing. It didn't work, though, so my curiosity started to beat down my illogical trepidation. I pulled at the lid. It was heavy, and the rusty metal screeched after barely shifting a millimeter. Again I caught a faint but definitely unpleasant smell.

I started thinking. What if there was something... in there. I mean, why was there a sealed tomb- like building in the middle of state forest, far from roads or buildings or electricity or any of the things you find near human structures? What if there was the corpse of a murder victim? What if there was a vampire just waiting for a chance at freedom and revenge? What if there was an animated corpse, a brain eating zombie, or several, jaws dripping, legs crouched in anticipatory tension, ready to spring for my throat the second the door opened wide enough???

So yeah, I didn't open it, much to the relief of my cold sweat and fluttery stomach. Yeah, yeah, I'm ridiculous, but at least I stay entertained. Or... am I ridiculous? When I loaded my photos from the hike I worked on cropping here, leveling horizons there, adding a touch of extra green or blue... and enhancing the picture where I tried to use my camera's flash as a makeshift flashlight.

Staring up at me from the darkness... an eye.

Okay, blogger was being a poohead and wouldn't take the enhanced photo so this is the straight out of camera shot. And when I say enhanced I don't mean I manipulated an eye onto the picture. I hit the button for "enhance dark tones" and suddenly found myself looking into an eye. I twitched in startlement, and then the heater kicked on and I jumped right out of my seat. I actually had to close the page on my computer because my heart was beating so hard. Nevermind that it was night and I was alone, kay? I still can't look at the photo without mad heebie jeebies. It's like it's looking back. And get away from me with the straight jacket, ya here?

Not shooting deer or elk.

2008-05-02T14:24:00.000-07:00

Every time I go to the grocery store, the same guy is working the register. I finally asked him if he ever gets a day off, and he laughed and said "there's nothing else to do here". Which is probably true if you like shopping, going out for coffee, going to the movies, or any other activity that requires commercial buildings and businesses. But with millions of square acres of national forest, there's far from nothing to do.

One thing that's really cool about the forest is that there's maintained fire roads that you can drive for miles and miles on, through desolate burn areas and lush healthy forests, some juniper, some ponderosa, some I don't know yet, but all beautiful. It's like hiking for lazy people LOL. In fact, Mom and I made a 25 mile loop out there the other day, and I guess I would not shut up about the amazing scenery because when we got back she did an imitation of me for Potterman: "omg it's so beautiful, omg it's so beautiful, omg it's so beautiful". Hey, I couldn't help it.

Now, the other thing that bored locals do besides go four-bying in the forest is go SHOOTING in the forest. At first this scared me, I mean, what if I was just hiking along and I got shot? Then my neighbor borrowed a gun from his friend so that WE could go shooting in the forest. I'd done the off roading, it was time to delve deeper into local pastimes. I was even more scared then. I had never shot a gun, and the whole day we were out in the forest I kept putting off the experience. I was hoping it would get too dark by the time we found a good spot and set up our targets. Granted, it was only a .22 rifle, but still, it COULD kill some one. Then there was no more putting it off: we had an hour of sun left and dude wasn't going to borrow a gun to NOT shoot it.

Actually, setting up our "range" really eased my worries. First, we picked an area that had been burned for many acres, and you could see that there were no innocent hikers in danger. Second, we went down to a dry creek bed between two huge sloping hills, and set up our targets (hand drawn circles on cardboard and some tin cans) on the bank. So we would basically be aiming at a wall of earth. Then we picked our spot to shoot from. We used a fallen log to rest on, but I wish we could have gotten the truck down there to use the hood. Whenever I shot a BB gun, I always preferred to be upright rather than crouching or kneeling.

I was extremely careful to only point the gun at the ground or the target, and put the safety on between shots if I wanted to change positions. The log, being charred from the fire, blackened me from calf to shoulder on my right side, so I wasn't worried about getting more dirty as I tried for the best shot. At this point, the fear was gone, and I was just a little nervous about hearing the first bang. I knew it would be loud and I hate being startled. Dude went first, and yup, the first shot, no matter how much I tried to anticipate it, startled me. It wasn't too bad, though.

After he emptied the clip it was my turn. I knew the gun wouldn't kick and so I aimed, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. Funny thing was, it wasn't as loud shooting it as it was when I was a spectator, and after the first shot all nervousness was gone. I took my ten more shots (and I gotta say, clearing the chamber, or whatever it's called, between bullets is really fun. It makes you feel pretty burly.) and I have no idea what the distance was but I made about two thirds of my shots. The target was only 8 by 10 inches, and, I'm terrible at distance, but we were between 200 and three hundred feet away. Haha, I know thats a big variation but I didn't exactly have my tape measure. After measuring the new garden to be, actually, I'd say it was closer to 200 feet. Pretty weak, but hey, it was my first time shooting a gun. 22 shots on a 22, lol.

It was fun. I would do it again, and I'd like to try something with a bigger caliber. But one thing I learned when I was shooting was how easy it would be to kill with a gun. Because the thing is, you're really far away from your target. You wouldn't see it bleeding, it's pain, it's terror, up close and personal. Probably by the time you walked up to the bird or rabbit or deer it would be dead, and finding a dead animal is a lot easier that being with one as it died, or as you killed it, getting it's blood on your hands. And so guns are probably a good thing for soldiers, who have the traumatizing job of killing fellow humans, be it for self defense, a nation's freedom, or maybe a less noble cause. I mean, let's face it, if all soldiers were good guys, there wouldn't be wars, right? We'd all be on the same side.

I guess what's funny, as a liberal and all, is that while I don't think all guns should be outlawed, I can understand why some people do think that. If it were up to me, it would be all bad PEOPLE that were outlawed, but since that's impossible, I can see why there's anti gun protesters. However... why not outlaw cigarettes and knives and cars, too? I know, I know, statistically places like Canada and England with their heavy firearm restrictions have less deaths by gun. Honestly, I don't know where the line between freedom and safety should be drawn. It would be great if every one was a good person, and even if there was a nuclear bomb available to the public it would never be detonated because every one lived in respectful harmony and no one wanted to commit murder.

So I'm not trying to take sides here. I much prefer ignorant bliss and naivety and dreams of world peace than trying to decide who should be allowed what. I think the only answer is acceptance. If everyone could accept each other's differences, black, white, mexican, japanese, muslim, atheist, mormon, buddhist, and treat each other the way the want to be treated, with courtesy and politeness and respect and love, we wouldn't have to worry about tech nine's and sub machine guns. Okay. I'll lay off the fluffy bunnies and rainbows now. I would shoot a gun again- as pure target practice it's a sport just like shooting hoops. Practicing hand eye coordination with the awesome gift of the bodies we were given. But I could not shoot a bird. Or a rabbit. Or a deer. And most definitely not a fellow human being. If no one else could shoot a human either, well, that would be spiffy.

mule deer and elk

2008-05-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

The deer here are a lot bigger than the ones in Cali. When I occasionally saw one or two grazing at dusk, I wondered if they were elk. I couldn't wait to see an elk, and I thought they'd be like oversized deer. But no. Mule deer are, I've heard, named for their long ears, though it might as well be for their overall height. But they are puny compared to an elk.

Elk are definitely a whole different family. In fact, they looked kind of moose shaped more than deer shaped. But then, I've never sen a moose, so now I'm imagining them as oversized elk. Ha ha.

And their rumps look like monkey butts. Also, I have yet to learn my lesson... much. I slammed on the brakes when I saw one, and then picked out several more through the dense forest. They were too far away, though... hey, at least this time I asked Mom if she thought they would charge me if I tried to get closer. She said they were cowards, so I tried to stalk closer for a better shot, but she was right. These animals, just about as big as the wild horses that showed no fear, took off the second I took my first step toward them. It was still really cool, though. And how much are those telephoto lenses again?

Gardening: from 10 sq ft to 2,000

2008-05-01T16:40:00.000-07:00

The trailer shower:

Cuz seriously, not only is the shower ridiculously small, which I could handle, but it only gives about three minutes of hot water. Which I'd rather not handle. I mean, sure, I've done the whole conservation thing where you turn the water off when soaping up and only turn it on for rinsing. It's especially fun how when you turn the water back on each time it starts off cold. Whee. It was a real tough choice turning it into my greenhouse. Besides, Mom and Potterman have that dream shower, with the endless hot water thanks to a tankless heater. Plus we have unlimited water from the well. I guess technically fresh water is always limited, in a global sense, but.... well I'm sure I'll come up with some good justification for my 20 minute showers. Oh! I only take one every other day. There. And I don't stink, either.

Actually, this is my garden to be. That sounds like bride to be. Of course, the garden is going to kick so much ass that I probably will want to marry it. At this very moment Potterman, who borrowed a bobcat (tractor thingy) from his work, is getting dirt from a dug out drain ditch and filling in the rock terraces I made. Then we're going to mix in the truckload (literally) of horse manure that we got. Yesterday we put in about fifty fence posts, and we're getting wire next week to finish off the elk defense. So basically, we're going to have a gigantic garden. We're planting way more than we can possibly eat before it goes bad, because we're going to can the heck out of as much as possible, and we're going to dry stuff too.

I can't take credit for this awesome trellis- Mom made it. We're planting the peas around it this evening.
Unfortunately yesterday in the post operation -haha- my hand got jackhammered, so it'll be a couple days before I can shovel the manure. Nothing broken, just a helluva bruise and swelling, and I can't use it for much. Turns out my left hand doesn't know how to brush teeth, or hair, or spread cream cheese so that's kind of annoying. It's also kind of funny, though, Mom with her broken ankle and me with my black and blue hand- we ran some errands today and she can't drive or carry stuff what with her crutches and I couldn't turn the key to start the car or carry much either! Honestly, it was hilarious, her reaching over to start the car so I could drive. Gimpy and Limpy, that's us. We'll be better soon, and running our own entire produce department to boot! Exciting!!

Wild Horses of Arizona

2008-04-29T11:47:00.000-07:00

You know what family is? It's drilling a hole in the exterior wall of your house to string a cord with which to share your internet connection. It might not say that in the dictionary, but that doesn't make it any less true. Anyway, now that my trailer is conected to the world, I better get the word out. It's my duty to warn people. Not about drilling holes in your house, about not forgetting to temper enthusiasm with a dollop of caution.

For some reason, it's hard for me to believe that there are real live wild horses here. I mean, I already had to grapple with the fact that there's more trees than cactus- my mental image of Arizona the desert really clashed with the reality of it's biodiversity. (Don't even get me started on the mind boggling FREE HEALTH CARE.) So when I saw the horses there was no way I was going to miss the photo op. First I had to lay on the ground and roll under the barbed wire fence that borders the forest. This made me feel really cool, like some hardcore safari-ing professional. Or like an action hero. I took a few shots, but was way too far away, so I started creeping towards them. Luckily I was downwind. There were seven, and they all had their heads down as they foraged for lunch. Hunched in a crouch, I scurried from tree to tree, closer and closer. They were all beautiful, reds and buff and a black one that I decided was the alpha male. Which is funny, because it could have been a female at the bottom of the totem pole for all I know. Us humans anthropomorphize on a whim, 'kay? I also decided the light one was the head female.

I had gotten pretty close when she saw me. I froze by the pine that suddenly seemed like inadequate cover. Then she telepathically communicated to her partner my location, and then he too was staring at me. 'Cause I know the wind didn't change, and I didn't make a sound, right? It had to be telepathy. Suddenly the big black beauty took a few steps toward me. There was maybe 75 feet between us. I became aware of how gigantic these wild animals are. It was like they were growing right before my eyes. My heart pounded quicker. These are wild animals!! Was I too close to his herd? OMG- would he actually charge me to defend them? Could I dodge his charge? Grab a branch and swing up into the tree next to me? Would I be stuck there for hours? Should I grab a stick for defense? Adrenaline surged.

I picked none of the above. Instead I started backing up, maybe too quickly, and definitely stupidly, heck, it was pretty dumb to stalk GIGANTIC WILD ANIMALS in the first place. His eyes never left me. My eyes never left him. In fact, I almost tripped over a log because of it. I kept backing, and he didn't take any more steps toward me, though that didn't remove my heart from my throat. Finally, at about 200 feet I turned (my back on a gigantic wild animal) and all but ran back to the fence, dropped, and rolled under to safety. The horses went back to grazing. Another silly human successfully chased off. And another silly human plans to buy a telephoto lens. Amen.

Freak Snowstorm hits AZ

2008-04-13T12:39:00.000-07:00

Its seventy five degrees out, not a cloud in the deep blue sky, and supposed to hit ninety tomorrow.

Four days ago it snowed.

I know the reaction to snow isn't supposed to be, "Woohoooooo how cool!!!!!!" But hey, I've never lived where it snowed, well, not since age three, and who can remember age three? Potterman and I ran out to disconnect all the hoses and bleed the irrigation pipes so they wouldn't freeze and crack. It was very exciting, battling the forces of nature for survival!! The sun came out about fifteen minutes later.

Since then it's been warm and almost summery. The smell of sun baked pine needles and the sounds of birds are what I've gained for the loss of traffic, maniacal cat targeting drivers, and the melodious whine of leaf blowers. You'll have to pardon me, it may be quite awhile before the shiny rubs off, if you know what I mean. I'm a bit taken by this place, to say the least. When I went hiking the other day, the loudest sound (and it startled me until I identified it) was the dog's leash brushing my leg.

Oh, the cats, by the way, are adjusting quite well and are already replacing Mom's dog as my hiking companions.

Also, I've been named "The Finder". Today I found a small bird's nest on the ground, complete with tiny bird skeleton. The nest is about 4 or 5 inches in diameter, and the tiny vertebrae are 1/16th of an inch. Sad, but also... pretty darn fascinating.

Yesterday I saw a hawk chasing a crow, and they were about the same size, but the crow was on the run. The hawk was doing barrel rolls and even flying UPSIDE DOWN as the crow strafed, dived and dodged. Several times they were actually grappling with their legs entangled and their claws striking at each other's body. All of this about forty feet off the ground. Just when I thought the hawk was gaining the upper hand, a second crow flew in to rescue it's brethren and together they chased the raptor far off into the distant horizon. Wow.

And I haven't even shared my wild horse adventure yet.

AZ Update

2008-04-09T16:35:00.001-07:00

Well. I have been in Arizona for one week now. I love it. Except for one thing. I love the smell (that sounds kinda weird, huh). I love the view. I love that the word "traffic" has no meaning here. I love that my backyard consists of hundreds of square miles of state forest. Even the elevation is fine- and I have ALWAYS had pretty severe altitude sickness, but not this time (!). I don't even mind that the only place to buy beer is two miles away, well, if you're not down for bud or miller, yuck. I am in heaven.

Except.

Today the phone guy came out, HALLELUJAH INTERNET!! I AM FIENDING. Oh, what's that?
"Your phone line is working, you will have DSL within a month."

What.

WHAT????

CRY.

So, I'm on my Mom's internet connection right now... and I, apparently, am a snob. Because if it ain't DSL, it ain't internet. :(

Anyway, I HAVE been doing a lot of hiking, which is where I found the elk skeleton, complete with record breaking (well, almost) rack. I rule. I carried this thing about a third a mile, and MAN did it get heavy!!!! I also had the most gigantic grin on my face the whole, sweat dripping walk back. I haven't gotten altitude sickness, but I DO get winded right quick. Anywho, can you believe this find??!!??????????

Twelve points on the sucker! I found it down in a ravine, where I saw the antlers gleaming white. I thought at first it was just some bleached branches, because there's a lot of dead trees, fallen and standing, from the fire, and they bleach quick here. But when I investigated, I could not believe it. There was no way I was leaving that skull. And so, four days here, and I'm already a native. Heehee.

We staked out the foundation of my cabin today. As soon as I get the gol durn internet happenin, I will give y'all some updates! Okay, I COULD steal my mom's computer again soon. But I think that would just make her fiend instead of me. Well, the pace of life here is gloriously slow, so I guess I can just chill.

Eek.

Arrrrrrgh.

Wait, I mean...

Zen.

The Pillow Thief

2008-03-27T11:44:00.000-07:00

My bed has already moved to Arizona, minus my mattress. Pheonix likes that I'm sleeping on the "floor", and shares my bed nightly. Isn't he so cuuuuuuute? I just love when he snuggles up under my chin. Wait, he's not snuggling. He's putting his feet in my face! So I scoot away. And then you know what he does? He stretches out a little more. Next thing I know I have a tiny little corner of pillow. Then, not even that!

I was just waking up this morning and I heard CL chuckling. My feet were off the end of the bed and I had completely surrendered my pillow to Pheonix. Good thing I have a back up. Isn't it great how I'm so well trained that it doesn't even cross my mind to boot him?
You know, he does this to his sister all the time. Say she finds herself a nice cozy box. I have seen him just lay down right on top of her! Then she mews and climbs out from under him, and now he has the cozy box. We must really love that furry punk. Man, and my back up pillow isn't nearly as nice as my main one. Maybe I should start out on the back up so that when he steals it I can switch to my good one. Muahahahaha. Yes, that's what I need, a PLOT to get my pillow back... from a cat....

Frugal Frannie's Friday Fun!

2008-03-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

Wait. It IS friday, right? Who can tell anymore? I was all excited to share my frugal learnings, with my clever catchy title, and then I found out there already is frugal friday. I guess just because I didn't make it up, though, doesn't mean I can't join in the fun! Except I don't have anything for today. Oh! Here's my frugal motto:

Make do, do without.
Use it up, wear it out.

Shpiffy, eh? I live by it. Of course, that's mostly because I'm a hermit who dislikes going out into the world and shopping. The whole "make do" part is my middle name. Like breakfast this morning. I had half a green bell peeper and half of an orange one, leftovers from a previous meal. I pan seared 'em with a touch of oil- ok, fine, I fried them in butter. Not too much butter though. Then I threw in an egg and some cheddar cheese, scrambled it all up, and not only had breakfast but also was able to cancel my run to the grocery store. See, I'm real big on bread type things for breakfast. Bagels and cream cheese, or english muffins, or at least a tortilla to wrap around my experiments. But alas, there was none of the above in my cupboard. I survived though. Because there was coffee. I don't think "doing without" is allowed to apply to coffee.

Can you tell if Lilly likes catnip? This is the "use it up" part. It would be silly to pack a bag of catnip and move it to AZ with the dishes and furniture and clothes and stuff, don't you think? Especially if there's a state border inspection. Which there isn't, but can you imagine?
"Do you have any fruits or vegetables to declare? Animals? Contraband?"
"No, just my cats, and no."
"Do you mind if we have a look?"
"Not at all."
"What's this?" Holds up plastic bag of dried green plant matter. "Where'd you say you were from?"
"Ummm... Santa Cruz...."

I'm not packing any food, either, like the half bag of flour or the can of enchilada sauce in the back of the cupboard. That's not very frugal of me, is it. I AM taking my spices, though. Those suckers are expensive! Those, at least, are also clearly labeled: Oregano, for example. I suppose I could put the catnip in a spice jar, but then what if I accidentally added it to my spaghetti sauce. Anyway, it's hilarious watching Lilly and the others roll around in bliss. You really can't put a price on entertainment.

Spring Growth Trumps Fiber-optics

2008-03-20T13:23:00.000-07:00

The daylight here in the armpit of hermit mountain is increasing as the spring season waxes. I can find a patch of sun somewhere in or near my yard for over a three hour block each day now. It doesn't stay in each spot long, and it's never bigger than 12 feet or so, but still, quite an improvement! When it hits the translucent flesh of newborn clematis leaves, the beauty is almost painful.

Just sitting quietly and admiring the vibrant green is like prayer. Maggie, on the other hand, prefers the plastic fiber optic Christmas tree. I woke up to her rustling around in it this morning. Not only was she making a cozy nest for herself, she was trying to eat the fake needles! She definitely needs to get out more.

Oh! I had a home invasion last night! Well, CL being out of town, I have been locking AND dead bolting the door at night. At 2 am I woke up. I'm not sure what exactly woke me. It was pitch black, and I could hear a cat eating.

Oh, sorry, I have to digress for a second here. I went to bed at one, so I hadn't been asleep long. The night before, I went to bed at 12:30, and I slept until 12:30 the next day! Twelve hours of sleep!! At first I kept telling myself I needed it. Eight years of getting up at 6 am, averaging six hours of sleep, a little catching up made sense. I was at the point where if I got 7 hours a night I felt like I was ahead of the game. But I'm on my second week of freedom now. How much catching up do I need? What if I just sleep 12 hours a day for the rest of my life??? There won't be a whole lot of time for living. Well, I only slept 9 and a half last night, so maybe my body will balance out the swinging between six and twelve hours. Okay, that's all.

My first thought as I sat up in bed was that there was a raccoon or skunk in the house. It wouldn't be the first time they came in through the cat window. Usually, though, I can tell by the loud scarfings and crunchings that it's not a cat. Wild critters are very sloppy, hurried eaters. What I was hearing was polite, quiet. By now my eyes had adjusted to the faint light of the (sad, forgotten, unused) alarm clock. I climbed to the foot of my mattress and leaned forward to peer around the corner. The bed has already made the trip to Arizona, so my mattress is on the floor. Well, I didn't see a thing, but BAM! CRASH KABLAM RATTLE SCRAMBLE BANG!!! Something large bolted from the kitchen, a mere six feet from where I crouched wide eyed and blind.

I was bummed my eyes hadn't adjusted enough to see more than a very big shape. I ran to the door, where the light switch is, and turned on the kitchen and porch light. I scoped the porch, but it was already gone. It couldn't have been a skunk or anything smaller- the shape I saw was huge! But to fit through the cat window, it couldn't have been bigger than a raccoon. Plus the agility needed to climb over the fish tank and armchair, well musta been a raccoon. the most polite one I ever heard eating, though. That's important, you know.

When I turned back towards my bed, I saw Maggie and Sebastian crouched side by side, huge eyes staring. It was pretty cute. I'm glad the raccoons haven't ever hurt my kitties. Pheonix came in then, tail floofed, and inspected the food dish. After a bit of sniffing, he decided it was safe to eat. I grabbed a flashlight, turned of the lights, and went back to bed. If the intruder came back, I wanted a good look at 'em.

Face of a Killer

2008-03-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

Is this the face of a serial killer? Of course not! It's Maggie! She doesn't even go outside unless I'm there to hold her paw. In fact, the other day when we went for a walk, after several aborted hole digging attempts, she finally decided it was much safer to just pee next to me. Literally, about 5 inches from my shoe. Glad I could be of service. Or at least offer comfort in her time of need. Ahem. Where was I. Ah yes, the true face of a killer: her sister, Sebastian.

Last night sebastian had caught yet another mouse. And, as usual, I had to go rescue it. Not that I'm against her eating them- I read that wild game (giggle) is the most nutritious food a cat can get. And eating their catches is much better than killing purely for sport. I will refrain from any references to certain human practices here. Other than that. So if I catch any of my lil furballs in the act of eating what they catch I certainly don't try to stop them- besides, their dry food is thirty bucks a bag! Like I'm gonna be against a little wild grocery shopping on the side!

Okay, but if I see the tiny critter running for it's life, or worse, hear it squeak in terror, my own form of instinct takes over. It's really a terrible affliction. I've had it since I can remember. During all the mad packing I've been doing, I found my old journal from my teen years, and one entry from when I was sixteen was about seeing a dead baby possum on the side of the road. The fact that it upset me and I cried didn't surprise me. What DID was my account of wrapping the small body in some discarded newspaper and placing it far from the road under some bushes. I don't think I would do that today. I'd be sad, sure, but not like that. Maybe my affliction, technically known as BHS (bleeding heart syndrome) is mellowing with age.

I got some gloves and a flashlight ( it was about ten o'clock at night and we were still packing up the trailer) and went to intervene. The mouse was still quite lively, far from the point of no return. All four cats were involved in the corralling. I stepped in the midst, and the mouse sought shelter between my feet. Which then freaked me out. It wouldn't be the first time a wild mouse RAN UP MY PANT LEG ( on the inside, no less). I stepped back, and the mouse ran up a maple tree! Better than my pants I guess.

Sebastian tried to follow it up, but the first branches were a good 12 feet up and she stopped before then. The mouse hurried out to the weakest twig tip and perched there, about 15 feet off the ground. I figured it would stay there, perhaps all night, but no, it ran back to the trunk and out to another branch tip. Then, giving up on any escape from up there, or waiting out the danger, it ran back down the trunk right into the waiting claws. Well, it tried to jump when there was about 5 feet left, away from Sebastian and Co, but Lilly snagged it with a leap and outstretched paw like she was trying out for baseball.

I managed to jump in and grab it, though. I always hesitate just for a second before I pick up the prey. I know they're going to bite me, that's what the gloves are for. But what if this time they bite through the gloves? Hasn't happened yet, and it didn't this time either. I get adrenaline, though, feeling how strong the pinch of the tiny jaws are. I'm surprised it isn't a better deterrent, actually. Then I went marching off into the forrest with the bail now posted and the prisoner to be released on his own recognizance.

Of course Pheonix followed me. Duh, when does he not? So that was a brilliant move on my part. I tossed the mouse (gently, of course!) and traded for a scooped up and complaining P. When I brought him back to the house he didn't go try to find it, so I was successful. I went in and opened a hard earned beer. Did I mention it was ten at night and I was still moving boxes and furniture? Seriously, I need to hire a bounty hunter for all the mice I post bail on that never pay me back. I'd make more of a killing than Sebastian! I suppose there would be some ethical problems with demanding money from freed prisoners who were taken into custody in the first place without cause, by my own cat.

Also, kind of hard to claim heroism when you walk outside ten minutes later and said cat now has crunched mouse skull sticking out of the side of her mouth, head angled for better grinding. Mmmmm, brains. I sense impending guilt over mentioning getting a deal on my grocery bill... but on the other hand, it's good to know Sebastian could make her own way in the world. Just as long as she's not getting her own place. If I can move in with my parents at 29, she can just skip living on her own and stay with me till she's old and gray. She better be reading this. Oh, and she can also wash her own dishes! Or at least scrape the left overs into the garbage, not leave them on the doormat!

Ah yes. Some people are born hermits. And some are born crazy eccentric cat lady hermits who expect their furry children to "listen to me when I'm talking to you!" I'm going to bed now.