Hectic Electric

If "may your life be interesting" is a curse, should I go around saying, "may your life be boring"...? As opposed to "have a good one", that is. Yesterday there was NO electricity from the time I got home until sometime in the night after I went to bed. I kept thinking, maybe I can find out why online-doh! and, well, if I can't blog, I can play my game- doh! I reached for the internet more times than I reached for a lightswitch... now what exactly does that say about me? That I'm an internet addict who sits in the dark?!? I played with kitties. I read. I napped. I was majorly disgruntled. I drank some beer (wouldn't want it to get warm, and arrrg I thought my days of buying ice were over!!). There was a 150 acre fire way further up in the mountains- I never even smelled smoke so I guess being bored and 'gruntled is better than evacuated or homeless! I ended up the evening in candle light on my porch reading Little House on the Prairie. I felt I could identify with the Ingalls clan. HAHA not! I'm way more spoiled and not racist. I mean, it's a very historical children's book, and white peeps back then were pretty darn racist. They are still fascinating books, and I do love 'em. Just gotta recognize that people have come a long way, in more than just electricity.

Then, today, another adventure. Darling Clarence had an abccess! Oh joy! It ruptured and there was the grossest hole in his leg I ever saw. I almost tossed m' cookies. So he got surgeried and stapled and a lovely hat!
I think he's still stoned from being knocked out. The vet very kindly agreed to take half payment now and half next week when I get paid- $458.00 total. It's better than the time Pheonix seemed to be sick, and had an overnight stay, for $800 just to find out he was, "just sick, sometimes they get sick just like people". AARRRG. I tell ya, when he dug up some fish graves from the last power outage (no life lost this time, praise Jesus) and sampled the remains, he stayed home and was sick for a day. Just like people sometimes do. And he was fine (except for the FOULEST breath ever!). When I was getting Clarence, and all his medicine and stuff, the nurse said the vet WANTED TO TALK TO ME. There was a little plastic chair to sit on and I felt like I was waiting in the principal's office. I almost asked the nurse if I was in trouble. Turns out the doctor wanted to tell me in person that he has a LOT of fleas. I was indeed in trouble, but much appologies and promises of flea medicine and I was allowed to escape, bad Mommy!

Anyway, Clarence is gonna be just fine, I have power, hallelujah, and it's the weekend!!!!! I get saturday off since monday is a holiday and it's my regular day off. WOOOOT! Although I'm a bit worried that when Clarence's drugs wear off and he finds out he has to wear the bonnet for 2 weeks, AND stay inside, AND have medicine squirted down his throat- well, I may need more beer. Or some of Clarence's painkillers. HAHA EEEW. I don't remember animals getting painkillers before, so I think that's pretty cool. Anyhoo, much gaming to catch up on, gotta find a less rump riding piece of plate mail. May you all have a boring weekend. :P

P.S. Oh yeah I tried to WRITE a post yesterday, like, on PAPER (?!?!) with my big fat hand shadow an' all, and the magic was so not there. When I have my cabin in the woods far far away, there will be solar and wind power dangit!! And a phone line, omg...

Autumn Already?

I was just reaching for my beer while the photos were loading, and there was a GNAT in it! I spooned it out, and it is very much alive, now having drunken good times on the kitchen counter. Anyway, I watched An Inconvenient Truth today, and it took me about three hours to calm down. When I say I'm a tree hugger, I don't just mean green party, I mean, wrap my arms around the trunk and smash my cheek to it's bark. Have you hugged a tree today? Someday I may write a side blog, something like, "dark side of the mountains", or, more accurately, "dark side of the hermit". But for now, let me share with you what cheered me up right good. I went outside and walked around with my kittes, breathed in the warm evening.
There are sneaking signs of autum. Ain't this leaf gorgeous?? All opalescent and magical. Really just captivating. I love fall so much. Though the hundred degree weather told this leaf that the battle of the seasons isn't over yet. But far better than the colorful leaf previews is THIS, very soon to arrive, wonderful bounty.
Not Clarence, he's wonderful all year 'round! Let's zoom in a little.
Oh, Clarence, c'mon, show me what you have. I'm not going to take it! That's right, sweet darling. Such a good boy!
Yes, the season of acorns. These are the best toy ever!! Last year was our first autumn here, and we had no idea there is a three week hailstorm of these things Ka-BAMing off the roof. There was a solid layer of crushed 'corns on the street. The kitties LOVE chasing these, except for poor Lilly. She can be a little clumsy, mighty hunter though she is. And somehow these things always bounce right between her paws and smack her right in the nose! Poor darlin'! I'm going to collect a bucket full of these to save for the lean times of the year. There's only a few green ones here and there now, so I think I have a week or two. Kitties: they're like furry prozac. Same with nature. I wish you all beautiful leaves.
P.S. I can talk about my cats again right? Without being some crazy eccentric?? :P

WoW, man

After a long hard day at work I thought I should do some yard work, so I did. Then I got all tired and sweaty and decided that 10 hours of work is enough!! So I went to my alternate reality, my escapeism. It was a beautiful day in Winterspring.

I don't know about the plate mail thong, though. I mean, not just a thong, but metal?? And there is no way that "armor" is going to protect my thighs. Ah, well, it's fantasy land. Just past the snow line were these cool mushrooms, and some red grass. (Gad, steel wedgies!)

Everything was peacef- OMG!!! Zombies!! There are scary zombies in my dreamy escape world! AAGGGHH! Noooooo! My one weakness. I tried to watch this "reality" show called Ghost Hunters the other day. Even though it was super duper cheese factor 5000, it still... scared the crap out of me. They recorded some EVP's (electronic voice phenomena, a term I think they made up just for this show) and that was it for me. No more watching that. I made CommonLaw hold me to sleep even though he wasn't going to bed yet.

I can just see it, me in the future, with kids: "Mom! There's a monster under my bed!" Me: " OMG! Run!!!!!" After rescuing kids I will board their door shut and they will sleep with me until they're 18. But wait. I'm a Paladin, a holy warrior with special zombie fighting skills! So I took out them there skellies. And even better, check this out.

I have a friend who is undead. His name's Kal, and he lives in Colorado. Uh, in the real world. And he's not really an animated corpse. Maybe when I have kids, I can teach them to face their fears. Or to not judge a book by its cover. Or, maybe just that it's okay to have a night light, and Mom's a little, uh... special. At least they'll have a parent who plays video games with them!

M' Chair

This chair is really ugly, I know. But it's my favorite. I like it more than one I spent 400 dollars on. It IS relegatd to the porch right now, but that's only because of the one room cabin living space. My $500 loveseat (matches the $400 chair) is out there too. This ugly, circa 1970? yellow chair is just really dang comfortable, um, when there's an extra pillow on the seat and another extra one for your back. It needs a little reupholstery, sure. And re-padding. There may be mummified cat barf on the underside. But it's what's on the inside that counts. Not the cat barf, the frame. Barrel style, I think it's called, and I love it.

In fact, when my mom was selling her house, and everything was all moving chaos, I dumped this chair in the goodwill pile. 13 or so years in a place and you accumulate a lot of memories, but also a lot of junk. I was moving into a studio, smaller than my current 284 sq ft, and I was also moving out of my childhood home. Boxes and boxes of things that probably could have been saved, went in the give away pile. Then the move was all over, and I was in my very first rented place, well, that my Mom wasn't the landlord, or that wasn't on wheels in a friends yard for $200 a month. I had no car, but lived close enough to work that I could walk, and my first walk home to my new place passed a thrift store. And there was my chair. Dirty, stained, covered in cat fur: five dollars.

Holding back tears, I ran inside and paid for it, demanding a "sold" sign just in case someone might have designs on it. Like any one would, HA! But at that moment it symbolized saying good bye to the last in a procession of over twenty homes in my first two decades alive. It was good bye to the security of a place that really felt like mine. I went and got my bffl, fellow hermit who was less than amused, to drive his truck over and pick it up with me. I got some laughs for this, but I am so, so glad I got my chair back. Until I get my very own home that I never have to move from, I got my chair. Cat barf and all, chair sweet chair.

Yardwork at Dusk

When the next door neighbors moved in a year ago, from the city, they cleared out a huge chunk of forest around their house and up the hill. This is the view standing at the property line. It was clear cut style; they took out everything, old trees, saplings, bushes. Yuck, I thought, being a tree hugger and all. Lately though, I've noticed that it gets darker about an hour later at their house. And I found myself a little jealous. Here's my "yard", and this is one of the less snarly tangled parts.

And so I needed a good, green party excuse to do some heavy duty trimming at my place. I thought, well, we don't let fires do what they're supposed to anymore. Fires are supposed to keep the forest clean, really, but we humans try to stop fires at all costs. So I'll do what fire can't, I decided. I'll take out all the scrawny saplings, the dead bushes that are coated with fallen leaves, and trim the lower dead branches of the big trees. And I think two cups of coffee will keep me going until it's practically dark and I can barely see what exactly I'm clipping away at.
Then this stump can look like a monster, scaring the crap out of me and reminding me that the weekend is for hitting the couch, not yard work. At least not when the monsters come out- I mean, when it gets dark. Good plan, good plan.

Oh yeah, also, if you mention liking yard work, you will have more yards volunteered for you than you can believe. Don't say anything about cash, though, unless you want them to retract the offer.

Try, Try Again

"For the last thirty years, he'd been alone but for his dogs, yet he had not become eccentric as did most people whose primary relationships were with their pets." -from Twilight Eyes, Dean Koontz
ACK! Direct hit! Losing cabin pressure! Taking on water! Aaaaggghh, I just read this yesterday!! And by a guy who gives the hero in almost every one of his, what, fifty books, a golden retriever so that he can assign multiple pages to praising these dogs. The pot is calling the kettle black, but it doesn't mean the kettle ISN"T black. There is no denying it. But I can stop if I want to! See, no kitty pictures at all today!
I was thinking the other day about wine connoiseurs. I just don't know how they can tell what's a good wine and what's a wine that comes in a cardboard box. In a blind taste test, I mean. And then I realized: I am a GIANT coffee snob! I can tell if it's been sitting for over half an hour, if it was made in unclean equipment, if it's burnt, and of course if it shared a container that was EVER used for that flavored crapola. I can tell you that a french press makes a fabulous brew, and that hand poured through a single serving filter has to be done very precisely: pour half cup of hot water through for the "sweet", then the other half for the bitters, and you have yourself a hell of a cup. So, wine drinkers must really dig the stuff, and while I enjoy it, it's far from an everyday thing like coffee.
Then I started thinking about how the fresher the roast, the better, and I really ought to give home roasting another shot. Plus I'm cheap, and green coffee beans cost half as much. So I gave it a whirl, and it went much better this time. Still not perfect, but, well, practice and all that. It's funny, I thought you would bake the beans, but actually you fry 'em.

The beans, when green, keep as well as rice, so you can store them a long time. Good to know in case I'm ever stocking a bomb shelter, 'cause you KNOW I aint closin' the hatch with out my coffee! This is how the pionneers did it, and that just makes it even cooler (green beans, not bomb shelters, HA!). However, attempting to get your campfire to 475 degrees would be trying. Especially since you wouldn't have had your coffee yet. I have an electric stove and I had trouble, sheesh. I started at 6, but by seven minutes the crack hadn't happened, so I turned it up to 7, which I think I'll start it on next time.


The crack is when the beans suddenly start popping, like the sound of a pencil snapped in two. Perhaps named after the "crack" of dawn by grumpy settlers? Oh yeah, and you have to constantly stir them, seriously, DON"T STOP. This is to try to get an even a roast as possible.


The beans start shedding a papery skin, called chaff, and within a minute or three after the crack, when they're what ever color you like, they're done. Less time makes lighter, more acidic roasts, longer makes darker roasts. I should warn you, when you hit the crack, haha that sounds funny, these suckers start SMOKIN'. Heavy, billowy smoke, so you'll want the kitchen window open and the hood fan on. Unless you're at your campfire. At this point it starts smelling a lot less like hay. That's what they smell like when green. Weird.


Now, when the beans are the color you like (this is maybe medium light) and you turn the stove off, you're gonna want to cool them off fairly quickly, or they will keep cooking. And you'll want to get rid of the majority of the chaff. This was fun for me, and it's quick and easy. I turned on a fan outside (you don't want this stuff blowing through your house) and poured the beans back and forth between the pot and a colander, in front of the fan. The chaff blew away after just a few transfers, and the beans were cooled. Like threshing wheat, cool, huh. Now, you can grind them right away, but it's recommended that for optimum flave, and that's sooo what my snobby taste buds are after, that you wait for 24 hours for the excess CO2 to dissipate. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna call it next time I pass gass. My CO2 was just dissipating. Not that I do that.

One other thing: set aside a special pot for this. I got some sweet Cuisinart pots for my birthday and wasn't going to designate one for coffee, so a nine dollar Kmart pot will have to do. Unless you like that flavored stuff. Then you might as well use your top ramen pot, make some new kinds of flavored coffee. Yeeek! Well, there yah go. Didn't even mention my kitties (that so doesn't count).

The Neverending Story

That movie was one of my childhood greats, I probably watched it hundreds of times. Well, this one scene from it came to me this morning as I stumbled from bed to feed the cats. It was the buttcrack of dawn, as my honey so delicately puts it, almost pitch black but not quite. I fed Sebastian, and opened the door for Pheonix, who was mewing his tiny voice, unexpected from such a handsome boy; if you didn't know him you'd expect a much bigger, deeper meow. And all of a sudden it was like the part of the movie where the young hero, Atreyu, finds his strength and runs with all his might for the portal that is guarded by two massive sphinxs'. Sphinxs' that blast lightning from their eyes, killing you instantly if you're not pure of heart.
Because mixed with Pheonix's mews were other tiny cries, and there was MAGGIE, who ran for the doorway with all her little heart!!!!!!!!! She barreled forward at full speed like her life depended on it, slid sideways when she hit the hardwood floor, and recovered to meow and purr and get some love and greet her sister and then eat and eat!! I couldn't believe it!! I still can't believe it!! I seriously questioned my awakeness. Holy crap!! Just... can't believe it!! The greatest gift the universe could give!! It said, what IS this ruckus peeps are raising about a kitten? I was just testing hermitgirl's tear ducts, after Bambi 2 they seemed to be broken! Did I mention... holy crap? I can't believe it?? I am the luckiest blessed person on the planet.
I can't- well, we got that part. Just, I didn't believe in happy endings. They're only in silly fairy tales. Certainly not a real life thing. But I guess, sometimes the story does end the way you hope it will. Thank you universe, thank you people who care and say such kind wonderful things, and Maggie... you are so, SO grounded.
OMG. There's just not enough exclamation points to express the insanely thankful joyous lucky yay that is in me.
But I'll try.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D

Maggie

CommonLaw looked for three hours today. When I got home from work I looked for another three hours. I should have called in sick, no, I should have looked all night, no, I should have been smart in the first place, hmm. The bizarre thought crossed my mind while I was falling down another too-steep mountain side for the second time, cobwebs smearing across my face, that it was like an Indiana Jones movie. Except without the entertainment, adventure, or happy ending. There were grape sized THINGS dangling from my arm and chin, things super glued to me by spider silk, and I was trying not to panic when they WOULDN'T WIPE OFF.

My legs are criss-crossed with bramble attacks. I finally wised up and changed into pants after the first hour. I was trying to be slow and quiet and not intimidating as I called and called and slipped through the crackling leaves. I occasionally burst into tears, then probably wiped my eyes with poison oak juice, as a couple of those plants took me by suprise. After having all day at work to ponder the awful fates that could have befallen a scared and lost kitten, the hours in the forest straining to listen, climbing cliffs on all fours, and shaking from exhaustion were kind of a relief. A mind numbing, self flagellation, cold kind of comfort. Actually hot, I was sweating buckets, got a heat rash that itched bad.

And I gave up, for today, reason number 114 to hate myself, but I got a good scare. Scarier than rolling my ankle on a loose log; I'm lucky I was wearing my hiking boots. Occasionally when hiking I stop and look around, take in the big picture, plot my course. And in the third hour today, I did a forest scan, and there was a face watching me. Way up the mountain, so that I had to look hard to be sure. At that point I really did go cold. I froze with a sudden gripping terror, my heart lurching from my test and my adrenaline surging. It wasn't a trick of the light, it was a big pale face staring intently at me. I almost soiled myself. I have never seen a human on the mountain, but just the idea scares me more than seeing a cougar or other predator. I've run into coyotes a handful of times, and they pretty much go their way while I go mine.

For a long minute, felt longer, we just stared at each other. Then it moved, and it was a dog. Two dogs actually, that finally gave a woof at me, not in a friendly way, but before either of them or I could do anything, one dog suddenly gave chase to something. This added a whole new nightmare of what ifs in my mind for Maggie, and I used the adrenaline they'd given me and tore up the hill after them. I had a 18 inch saw on my hip, in case I had to do some serious bushwhacking, and at that point, animal lover or no, I might have used it on them if they had found Maggie. Well, maybe not- I'm glad I wasn't put to the test. They out ran me no problem, but stopped at an open ridge where I could see them, and that they had no prey.

I kept on for another half hour, but it was getting dark, and I kept spooking myself, jerking my head up to look behind me for faces, and I chickened out (reason 115). I don't know if I can forgive myself. I've lost too many cats in the last few years, to poison, or internal ruptures, or just disapearing, but this is somehow the worst. I barely even knew her, was just getting to learn her personality, her individuality. She's just a young one. And when my other ones were stolen from me it had nothing to do with making a dumb mistake on my part. Yup, goin' to hell, my new mantra. I know I'll have to make some kind of peace with myself, but I won't stop looking, and praying and hoping yet.

Thank you guys so, so very much for your words and thoughts. Sometimes crap just happens, that's life, I know. I just wish it wasn't, ya know? So I would like to give thanks for some things (is that selfish?) to try and balance out my turmoil: having a running car, the ability to make iced coffee without worrying that I'm going to melt all the ice I just bought for the cooler, and most of all, you, m' peeps. And a prayer: please, universe, please please let Maggie be okay.

Have you seen me?

I am going to hell. Not one of the lowest circles, like for child molesters, but lower than identity theives. Lower than drunk drivers for sure.
I've been taking Sebastian for mini field trips, just right outside, letting her get to know the place. She always stays by me, coming back every minute or two to rub on my legs. In the big scary fascinating world, I'm the Known. And Clarence, when he is around. Since she lets me pick her up now, and pet her and cuddle her, I thought she was ready for the field trips, and she is. And just lately Maggie lets me pet her and cuddle her and, occasionally, pick her up. So today when I took Sebastian outside to "get her ya ya's out" (her super kitten energy) Maggie was, as usual, crying at the screen door. So I thought, I'll take Maggie with us today. I wasn't quite sure she was ready, but honestly, I didn't want to listen to her whining meow the whole time (I am such a jerk).
It was going fine, I didn't let Maggie go more than two feet from me, and everything was grand and sniff-tastic. Then the kid next door suddenly appeared, at the end of his driveway, swinging and banging the crap out of a piece of wood against a crate (really not blaming the kid here). The kittens were terrified. Sebastian went only a couple feet and I grabbed her, then turned toward Maggie. Didn't see her. Heard her, though, and thought it was going to be another episode of Maggie-under-the-house. I put Sebastian inside, then turned toward Maggies mewling, and was shocked to see her twenty feet up the hill in the forest, crying loudly. I panicked (dumbass!) and went crashing towards her, well, the dry leaves made it sound all loud and I'm sure not putting her at ease. In the space of ten of my paces, she was more than 80 feet from the house, running crazily into the dense second growth, faster than I had any idea she could go.
I climbed the hill as quick as I could, looking down to not slip in thick layer of duff, another smart move, and when I made it to where I'd last seen her, she was gone. I stood still. Tried to listen, but all I heard was my neighbors, using a leaf blower, backing up their V10 diesel, complete with the "beep beep beep", dogs barking. I stood there for over twenty minutes, calling and straining my ears. Nothing. I decided to start moving, even though it was loud and probably scary. I spent the next three hours combing the mountain, and for all I know I walked right by her but she was hiding in terror. I went back to the house three times, once for water, once to get Sebastian, who was the best helper ever, covering at least two acres with me, calling for Maggie. Then at dusk I took Sebastian back, got a flashlight, and tried again, hoping Maggies eyes would shine back at me. I even found where the skunk lives, scared him right out of his stump, again lucking out and not getting sprayed, but no Maggie.
I wish I believed in fate. Or a deity, and I could tell myself, "things happen for a reason", or "a higher power is watching out for her". But all I believe in is taking responsibilty for one's actions. I'm broke? I'm a slacker for not getting a second job. I lose a kitten? I should have realized it was a bad idea to take her out, she wasn't ready. CommonLaw, having just listened to the story when he came home, said I was really good at beating myself up. I wish I could say that Maggie snuck out, and it wasn't my fault, but I'm the adult, the caretaker. I took responsibility for her, and screwed up. She's just a kitten, now lost in acres of forest full of raccoons, coyotes, and phantom pumas.
So all I can do now is berate myself, and pray that she somehow, miraculously, stays safe and finds her way home. Weird, huh, that I may not believe in a specific deity but I believe in prayer. And, that there's a circle of hell with my name on it.

Black and White

Cameras can be dangerous. I don't mean, people getting caught doing things they shouldn't, like running red lights in view of a traffic cam. You shouldn't be doin' stuff you don't want to get caught doing! Ok, I'm sure there's exceptions to that, but I'm not going there.
Parents, I know you care about the safety of your children, so you might not want to let them have a camera. At least not until they are old enough. Let's see, I'm 28, so... maybe 30?


I managed to slip out the screen door, behind the lazy boy ( a must for any mountain hermit's front porch) and get about four feet from this skunk. And what the heck posessed me, I asked myself, while creeping further forward. There's just something exciting about being that close to a wild animal, a critter that, sure, I know what they look like, I've seen them before, but this close? Never. I didn't even know that their faces are all black. I imagined, like cartoon skunks, the stripe would go right down between their eyes to their nose. And their heads! Puny as hell! At the point where I was noticing how cute its brown little feet were, I slipped and knocked the lazy boy into a spin.


But never fear! It was too scared to turn tail and do the nasty, it just turned tail and ran, thank you Jesus!! (Just watched a documentary on Tammy Fay, don't ask. Ok, sometimes you'll watch anything! And I like documentaries!) Anyway, I figured I better bring the cat food in for the night ( gee, ya think?) but there were only like three crumbs left, and I thought, ooh, I know, I could move the plate and get a better picture when it comes back! Hmm, I'm thinking maybe thirty is too young and dumb still. Maybe forty. So yes, that's what I did, only next came a raccoon. Aye yi yi! A big ol' sucka, not the same one as last time. At this point, visions of rabies shots were dancing in my head, and, feeling like I'd used up my woodland creature luck for the night, I got the hell outta dodge. I didn't even try for a not-aimed arms-length shot.
Okay, yeah I did. It just didn't turn out. Maybe it's just ME that shouldn't be trusted with a camera. Hey there, cougar, show me your smile! AAAGGGHHHH my arm! Yeeek okay there's some sweet dreams for me. I can't promise that I'll learn anything from this... except maybe not to let Netflix make suggestions for me.