Just Some Doggone Photo Fun

Call it a "dog" day.  Much of yesterday was spent with dogs on the mind and in front of the lens and on the basketball floor.

For the third consecutive year, my sisters and I assembled for the annual Monticola yearbook Christmas portrait session.  

We're getting more organized each year, and dogs have played important roles the last two years, since our pups are about that age.  

Well, actually, Foster is the oldest.  He turned 2 just a couple of weeks ago, and his buddies, Meggie and Jessie, won't until next April.  One could never tell!

I think Foster will be thought of as a "pup" his whole life cuz he isn't gonna get any bigger, and he still looks to me like an adorable stuffed animal.

Anyway, this year we decided to throw in the Gonzaga theme, along with the dog show. And, of course, Gonzaga's Bulldog show was pretty good last night as they played and defeated a tough New Mexico State team.  

Not all dogs were happy with yesterday's festivities, especially Foster.  He behaved beautifully for his bath before we headed to the school.  

We also stopped by Wal-Mart for a few accessories.  The bright green elf hat and the Santa's helper hat never made it to the actual shooting session.  

Foster was especially demonstrative about his disdain for being dressed up like a leprechaun.  That hat lasted about 15 seconds, after he slumped to the floor on his front paws and pouted.  

Removal of the hat went quickly after the pouting session.

Foster also wasn't too thrilled about the colorful collar, but he tolerated it.  On the other hand, Meggie and Jessie rather liked their ensembles and smiled a lot.

Really, they are mostly smiling in these photos, even though they did look a bit harsh when Foster decided enough was enough and left the chair. 

We had a good time, throughout the shoot, and Foster's smile came back after I removed his decorative collar.  He has absolutely no complaints about the Big R sweatshirt, cuz at least it's utilitarian in this cold, cold weather. 

Now we have to start planning for next year's big photo shoot, and I'm sure Foster's gonna do some planning on a good way to get out of the misery. 

Happy Sunday. 

Saturday Slightly Frigid

My fingers have thawed out, so I can type.  I know it's colder in North Dakota, but it's still pretty cold here.  And, I like cold, clear weather.

Our present conditions are bordering on brutal.  Yesterday, I watched doggies alternating on three legs to give one set of ice-cold foot pads a break.

When they weren't in the three-legged stance, they were running like the wind in the wind.  To lie down in the field like a good Fido would have been life-threatening.

Doggies spent most of the day inside---either in the heated garage or, in Foster and Todd's case, the house.  Nobody complained.

Yesterday I also observed Lily standing on three legs, holding her right rear foot in the air and displaying an expression of anguish.  

Lily has sensitive hooves anyway, so the cold was definitely getting to her.

The horses love their cozy barn stalls at night.  And, speaking of the barn, the metal door handle broke yesterday afternoon as I was trying to urge the big door over heaving, frozen ground.  So, Bill will go to town today and see if he can find a replacement. 

Cold weather requires extra muscle power (sometimes the whole body) while trying to shove the door to its open and closed positions. 

On another cold note, while cleaning the horses' stalls this morning, my left hand started numbing up, and that was while wearing gloves and shoveling.  

So, it's a tad colder than it needs to be. 

It's times like this that I really love our Vermont wood stove.  The little stove in the living room keeps this house as cozy as can be, and I am very thankful for that.  

At the Great Northern Road home----where the bitter north wind would whip up for about a mile over open fields and pound our place with fiendish fury---- our wood stove did not treat us so well. 

I don't miss that.  The kids especially hated it cuz their bedrooms---turned iceboxes---were located on the north end. 

The lure of our warm and comfy living room here at the Lovestead even kept us from going out to dinner last night.  That proves it's cold cuz we like our Friday nights of eating out. At the other home, we probably would not have skipped the dining-out routine in favor of going to some place warm. 

Still, even that place was better than what I remember in the good old days at North Boyer when the blizzards would seeminingly whip all that frigid fresh air right through the insulation-impaired walls into our farmhouse.  

I'm betting we endured several instances of seeing our breath inside the house in those days. I can vividly recall hunkering down in my bed, not even allowing my nose outside the blankets AND still feeling like I was freezing to death. 

And, then there was the time-----the coldest I ever remember in my lifetime---when my cousins came over from Washington on the train to ski at Schweitzer.  During the night someone inadvertently left the back door open or maybe the wind blew it open.  

It was minus 40 that night and probably pretty close to that same temperature inside our house.

I think it was so cold that night nobody had the nerve to even crawl out of their bedding, so the door stayed open much longer than needed. 

Some brave soul finally got up, discovered the open door, closed it and announced to all the other cold cowards that we, indeed, has come close to freezing to death. 

We instantly felt a lot warmer once we knew that.  I don't think my cousins got to ski during that trip. 

Anyway, today I'll probably bake some cookies and deliver some books up there in even colder Moose Valley.  Mary said she wants to carry my books in her gift shop, so I'll be happy to oblige. 

I thought I'd be playing on my new computer, but time got the best of the wizard in his workshop yesterday, and the system is not quite ready.  So, I'll pick it up Monday and get some Christmas stuff done over the weekend.

I've decided to give in on the stress of writing and inserting Christmas letters in all my cards this year.  Most of the folks to whom I send cards are online anyway, so I'll write the annual letter later and post it on the blog.

The Christmas-card project---with all its stages of stamping, addressing and writing something in each card---might be a bit less stressful without the added stages of writing the letter, running off the copies, folding them and inserting.

Call me lazy.  I won't take it personally.  

One piece of news to share today:  Willie is working as assistant varsity basketball coach this year with head coach Tyler Haines.  The Bulldogs are 2-0 after another convincing victory last night at the annual Pendleton, Ore., tournament.  

They play again today, so this is definitely a "Bulldog" day.  Let's hope they come out of the tournament as champs.  That will make the long bus ride back to Sandpoint very worth it---especially for Willie who's been fighting off the aches and pains of flu.

And, of course, the ZAGS play tonight:  New Mexico State in Spokane in the Kennel at 8 p.m., available on ESPNU.   GO ZAGS! 

Stay warm!

New Tech Era at the Lovestead

I'll be making two trips to town today.  This morning's version will involve taking my printer, scanner and computer tower to the wizard's workshop.  

I call Joel at Laser Image  "the wizard" cuz he figures things out for me, tech-wise.  Sometimes what he figures out for me doesn't involve much wizardry, but in my mind, any time I'm in a techie fix, a call to Joel will solve the problem.

In one case, it involved the remote for our TV.  He knew immediately what button I should push after I had already pushed every button possible on the remote and had even reset the satellite button on the "unit"  a dozen times trying to revive my signal.

Well, it wasn't the signal that needed reviving.  The signal was there.  I had inadvertently pushed a wrong button on the living room TV remote, causing a dead screen,  and Joel knew it.

Within seconds of his brief instructions over the phone, the TV was working just fine. Best of all, there was no need to make an appointment and wait around for several days for a technician to show up.  

Fast Forward.  There was no magic button to push with my desktop computer.  

I had been aware for months that its age and its glitches were aimed at each other head-on and that when the collision of those forces occurred, I'd be an unhappy camper and that my "life," of pictures and writings which I've amassed on the computer could be in jeopardy.

So, I hauled the tower down to Joel.  He kept it for a few days and then called, telling me it was full.  Yes, I could get rid of a few more items, but the same problem would continue to bug me. 

Besides, I'd already gotten rid of more than a few items, removed some programs and had the thing down to the bare essentials. 

Well, Joel has built me a new computer with much more space and get-up and go.  So, today he'll transfer "my life" to the new computer, test out the communications skills of the printer and scanner and computer.  When all is in concert, he'll send the ensemble home with me this afternoon.

I'm thinking that if all goes well, there won't be nearly as much cussing up here at this desk in the mornings while I'm trying to load photos for the blog.  I also won't have to be working between two computers just to finish a blog posting.

And, my friend Helen and her newly named assistant Cherry could be out of their morning responsibilities:  letting Marianne know immediately when gigantic photos are bleeding off the screen or when she's just plain screwed up with word choices or omission or other inadvertent mishaps which can happen during that hour or so of blog production time.

Certainly I'm not going to lay them off, but their duties could be less demanding, and I may be in a better mood.

I think back on the computers I've had.  After working with Apples at the school for years, I bought a PC.  It lasted for several years.  Then, came the used Mac Performa from Laser Graphics.  

I bought a Hulett-Packard somewhere around the turn of the century (most recent one, of course).  

That model definitely suffered domestic abuse because trouble shooting was just that----big-time trouble, making me want to shoot myself or the machine.

I recall distinctly one day when I DID bring a hammer inside and threatened to kill the computer.  

Turned out it needed new guts, and after Hewlett-Packard happily replaced its innards, I happily kept my life and all my thoughts stored on that machine for a long time until Annie brought me a newer model Dell freebie.

In between those desktops, I've owned two laptops.  My most recent was purchased on a whim from Staples when the screen went black on the Gateway----just the screen, not the computer.  The techs told me it might cost about $600-plus to get the screen fixed.

Well, I was going to Maui the next day, and by that time,  I had begun the era of taking laptop and a heap of cords and adapters on trips.  

So, knowing I'd spend my time in Paradise in total frenzy without a computer for sharing the fun, I plunked down a good fee, learned a few basics about the machine and went out the door of Staples with my Hulett-Packard laptop. 

It was a quick learning curve with that computer,  but I managed a personal crash course in how to use the new machine in time for pictures from Paradise to fly across the sea every single day.

How did we get to this state of techno insanity?   Why are we so obsessed?  I have no answers; furthermore,  I'm not going to apologize for being a bit crazy when any of my technology won't work "this instant."  

Bottom line, it's really a barrel of fun, sharing our lives and our pictures with our family friends and whoever else wants to enjoy what we put out there.  Yes, a little voyeurism from others but also great personal satisfaction in the sharing.  

I'm betting even Ben Franklin would give up his feather pen for a computer once he saw the possibilities.  

I'm also betting that anyone who depends on their technology would likely skip over the feather pen when given the choice of downgrading their communication methods. 

Today signals a new era in my technological journey, and I'm excited to see how the wizard's handiwork performs.  

Guess tomorrow's blog posting will tell the tale. 

Happy Friday.  Stay warm.   

 

A Schweitzer Birthday Saga

It seemed a bit surreal---almost reminiscent of Steve Vincent Benet's classic short story "By the Waters of Babylon" where the character visits an abandoned New York City, finding only remnants of the big city's hustle and bustle. 

I drove to Schweitzer yesterday on its 50th birthday.   On the trip up, I met a few cars, figuring the occupants had had their short day of skiing on the big milestone day and were headed home. 

Lots of parking space, I thought, while entering the parking lot---in fact, more than I saw on my last trip up here in the summer time.

The number of cars, or lack thereof, called for a photo.  

With camera in hand, I walked toward the village, noticing local license plates and a few out-of staters.  Once up the steps, I saw a crew working around a tree in the center of the village.  

"No pictures yet," one hollered.  "We're not finished decorating."  While snapping photos anyway, I mentioned that I'd come up to see what was happening on Schweitzer's "real" birthday. 

The crew was unaware of the day's significance, but they did know about the celebration the weekend after next.  They also told me Schweitzer would open for 7 days a week this Friday---two days after its "real" 50th birthday.

Inside the hotel, I saw more Christmas decorating around the check-in desk and up the stairway.  

Outside, I met a nice young man who works with guest services at Schweitzer.  He knew it was the special day.  

We enjoyed a short visit, and I then I moved on toward the office, figuring I just had to say hello to someone on staff on this monumental day.

I walked into an empty lobby and snapped a photo, noting one of Schweitzer's many distinctions. Somebody walked from one office to another.  The phone on the other side of the counter rang.  Someone within the office complex must have answered.

I grabbed a handful of Schweitzer Magazines and walked out the door to take a few more photos of the empty scene, which in the next few days will be bustling with early season ski mountain excitement.

The quiet yesterday in the village was deafening.  While shooting a photo of the clock tower, I saw a couple off in the distance,  coming my way with skis.  

"Wonder if they skied on Schweitzer's 50th birthday," I thought to myself.  "Guess I'll get a photo." 

Indeed, they had skied----walking up the hillside and skiing down.  They told me they'd seen a few other skiers were up there too.

I asked if they were local.  Thegentleman told me he'd moved here in 1962.

I asked him to take off his sunglasses.   

Then, I knew immediately who he was.  Had taught two of his three sons at Sandpoint High.  He delivered mail around town, wearing shorts,  for a number of years, and he had hiked 50 milers through the Selway Wilderness Area with Boy Scouts---just like Bill did when he was a scout leader.

Rod Dozier and Jane Hoover, NP, didn't mind a bit that this lady was taking their picture on a significant day in Schweitzer's history.  And, I was thrilled to catch them and to visit with them for a few minutes. 

We did some catching up on our kids as we walked through the quiet village. I also learned that Jane, who came here a few years ago from Ohio for the "beauty of it all" thinks she's not such a good skier.  Hearing that information, I felt an instant bond.

And, so on Schweitzer's 50th birthday, I walked the village, grabbed a few photos and talked with very few people at the resort---where one staff member said he'd "heard of Bob Aavedal."  

Time flies over 50 years.  Details sometimes turn insignificant.  

Still, the mountain remains a beloved force, which has created so much history for Sandpoint, its residents and its many visitors who have marveled at its perennial beauty while creating their individual memories.

Since I didn't make it up there 50 years ago, like a lot of folks I know, I'm proud to say that I made it 50 years later, and maybe, just maybe, ten years from now, someone can use my photos when the mountain surpasses another decade as a resort. 

It was a beautiful afternoon.    

Winter Scenes

It's cold.

  

It's pretty.

We're warm, thanks to the winter wood supply and cozy shelters. 

  

Life on the Lovestead farm is good on this 50th anniversary of the opening of Schweitzer Basin Ski Area aka Schweitzer Mountain Resort. 

Happy Birthday, Schweitzer!!!

Happy Wednesday to all. 

Cold Tuesday Twitterdeedum

Just in time!  Lily and Lefty went to their barn stalls just in time yesterday afternoon to miss the first blustery blast of winter.  

When the wild winds and blowing snow began, they were tucked away for the night, as were the cats AND---I thought---the dogs.

Bill and I were watching the Seahawks game, figuring that Willie or Debbie would soon arrive to pick up Brooke and Todd. 

I kept hearing dogs bark in the garage and a banging noises--- sorta like someone was coming in.  This went on for more than half an hour, with nobody ever appearing around the corner from the living room.

When a commercial break came during the game, I discovered the source of the noise:  wild wind sending snow flakes fluttering in circles and bird feeders banging against metal or even against each other.  

Visibility was low, and I worried about what driving Selle Road must be like.  Bill had already reported a pretty dicy trip down the road while coming home around 4:45.

Once I discovered the source of the noise, I went to the garage to find the door wide open, Kiwi and Kea, loungingt on the couch but no sign of Brooke and Todd.

You see Brooke has recently perfected a new talent:  she knows how to open doors from the inside out.  

So, at our home, when we see dogs running about when dogs are supposed to be safely in the garage, we don't have to ask "Who let the dogs out?" 

We know.  

It's just that we're still not quite used to the fact that we have a talented canine escape artist, so we still don't remember to shut the door in such a way to make it Brooke-proof.

Anyway, Brooke and Todd weren't too far from the house.  Each covered with a layer of powdery snow, they both happily returned to the garage.

Later, Willie arrived and reported that driving on Selle Road was a "white-out," meaning little or no visibility. 

The wild storm lasted for about two hours and then quit as quickly as it started.  This storm blew in on a day when I had gone outside a couple of times with no coat.   

I was glad that I had finally prepared the stalls for Lily and Lefty's winter stint indoors.  

An automatic waterer has been causing problems in Lefty's stall, so yesterday I figured out a solution to avoid having a perennial drip, drip overflow from the waterer turn his floor into a skating rink. 

The two horses were happy campers this morning when I opened the barn door.  Soon they were happily munching on hay in their outdoor shelter while I was rounding up horse apples in their stalls for the first time this year. 

Breakfast boys from radio station K102.5 were up to their usual recap of the previous night's TV highlights.  In this morning's case, they touched on the Seattle win over New Orleans, Carrie Underwood's upcoming appearance in the Sound of Music and other items related to country singers. 

So, on this gorgeous cold morning, I'm finished with chores and looking up at a hot pink mountain to the north of Schweitzer.  

Schweitzer, whether it knows it or not, will reach a big milestone tomorrow. 

Except for the cold temps, conditions will probably be exactly like they were on that Wednesday, Dec. 4, 1963, when the community saw the seed sprout for a future as a destination ski resort.   

Blue skies and sunshine and beautiful snow greeted those first-day pioneers, and I'm betting a bunch of them will show up on the mountain tomorrow.  If time allows, I might just go up and take some photos. 

Fifty years ago, our family simply watched the cars go north on Boyer, turn at the end of our woods onto "the back road" as we used to call Woodland Drive.  Later that day, we watched the steady stream of car lights headed back toward town in the darkness. 

We went up to the resort a week or so later, as a family,  and marveled at it all, but a few years passed before any of us gave skiing a try.  And, it will be many, many moons before I ever do again.  To put it lightly, skiing was not my forte.  

Give me some snow shoes or dry ground, and I'm happy.

That sun and blue sky make me happy on this Tuesday morning.  Wishing a pleasant day to all. 

Cyber Monday: The Family Bookstore

One day only . . . . Cyber Monday Books as Gifts---from our Family Collection.

For military veterans, especially those who served in the Vietnam War-----introducing a memoir by my brother Mike Brown.  

Missile! Missile! Missile! recounts Mike's Vietnam experiences, with special focus on his Cobra helicopter shootdown by a SAM missile during the Battle of An Loc in 1972.  

Features a full-color painting by our brother Jim Tibbs. 

You can order the book at www.amazon.com on Kindle and in paperback.  

To order personally autographed copies on this Cyber Monday, send me a note at potatohead89@hotmail.com, and I'll pass along your contact information 
to Mike, who will see that you receive a book.  Plan to add a postage fee for your order.  

 My first attempt as a humor author. Published in 1994.  $10.

Available in paperback at www.amazon.com.

Cover art and inside art by my mother Virginia Tibbs.  One sketch by my brother Jim Tibbs. 

For personally autographed copies and a special Cyber Monday price, send me a note at potatohead89@hotmail.com, along with autograph information and mailing instructions.  Add $3 postage for each book.

$10 for a single copy.   Buy one book, get one free, your choice from my collection, today only.

 My second collection of humorous slice-of-life tales of life on the North Idaho farm.  Published 1997.

Available in paperback at www.amazon.com. 

Cover art and inside art by my mother Virginia Tibbs.  One sketch by former student Tim Nickodemus.

For personally autographed copies and a special Cyber Monday price, send me a note at potatohead89@hotmail.com, along with autograph information and mailing instructions. 

$10 for a single copy.   Buy one book, get one free, your choice from my collection, today only.  Add $3 per book for postage.
 

Most recent book:  a collection of tales about my teaching career at Sandpoint High School, featuring one story written by my son William Love, the current Sandpoint High School Cedar Post adviser.  Published 2007.

Available in paperback at www.amazon.com

Cover art by former SHS cross country coach and art instructor, Cheryl Klein. 


For personally autographed copies (including Willie) and a special Cyber Monday price, send me a note at potatohead89@hotmail.com, along with autograph information and mailing instructions. 

$10 for a single copy.  Buy one book, get one free, your choice from my collection, today only. Add $3 per book for postage.
 

Leftovers . . . .

Slowly but surely, the food assortment on the kitchen island is diminishing.  Bill had a couple of bakery donuts this morning for breakfast.  They sure do smell good after coming out of the microwave.

Debbie came over late yesterday afternoon (Willie, as Bulldog assistant varsity basketball coach traveled to Coeur d'Alene with head coach Tyler Haines to scout a game)  to help us with the dressing, taters, turkey and such.  

She loves leftovers, and one mention that we had plenty to share was all the hint she needed.

Jonas, the cat, was trying to get some of the leftovers yesterday morning on the deck while a big family gathering was occurring in the living room.  

The new deck roof has opened up another opportunity, among many.  

With the barbecue grill on the deck for the winter, we were able to stuff the leftover turkey, stuffing, turnips, deviled eggs and sweet taters under the lid, using the grill as a satellite frig.

That, however, presents a tough temptation for a cat with a keen sense of smell.  Jonas checked for possible openings at all angles but finally gave up.

Our inside gathering featured leftovers and some fresh banana muffins baked by my sister Laurie.  

Cookies, candies, Joyce's wonderful apple pie, a plate of crackers, Cis' modified chocolate zucchini bread with quince pulp substituted for zucchini and those bakery donuts from Bonners Ferry Super 1, among other items,  made for quite the brunchy spread. 

Still, after all those morning visitors, there's plenty left.  I told Debbie last night to bring Willie over for the ZAGS game tonight, and, with luck, the leftovers dwindle.  What's left of the turkey and mashed potatoes may even turn into a dish all its own. 

I think I'll search for a recipe where I can use my abundant cranberry sauce, as last year's mixture stayed in a jar for a year.  In fact, I just dumped 'em out a few days ago.  

Cranberries keep pretty well, I noticed, but that one thin layer of gray stuff on the top indicated a trip to the compost container. 

I'll be glad when all leftovers have gone to their ultimate destination, which, from today on,  not a lot will go to my stomach.  

The Thanksgiving  and beyond overstuffed stomach is never a pleasant experience for me, so tomorrow, for sure, signals a return to my usual eating routine, which involves a lot less intake and a whole lot more physical activity.  

Last night after downing most of my plate of leftovers and letting Foster lick up the rest, I missed most of the action in the movie "Argo," even though I awakened from my couch slumber long enough to hear Debbie comment its intensity.  

Some day I'll have to watch the story from beginning to end, even though I do know it has a happy ending. 

Anyway, leftover time is winding down as is the big holiday period.  As I type, Annie's headed to Spokane Airport for an 8:30 flight after staying overnight in Spokane for a Pearl Jam concert, which attracted a lot of locals and even some of our relatives from Bainbridge Island.

She went with her friend Kelsi who, in the past 22 years, has attended no fewer than a couple of dozen Pearl Jam events around the country and even in Australia.  I believe this was Annie's second, and her reviews indicated a phenomenal show. 

A lot of the family visitors left for their respective homes yesterday after sampling leftovers, comparing notes on Kindles, i-pads, cell phones and even sharing a few additional thoughts on Bigfoot.  

My brother Mike also held a book signing with copies of his recently released Missile, Missile, Missile!

It was a good Thanksgiving.  I'm figuring on today, with the rain and soupy snow, being a fairly quiet, relaxing day--maybe even staying awake for a whole movie----all in preparation for the next burst of activity leading to Christmas and, for sure, another round of leftovers.  

Happy Sunday and safe travels to all. 

Dog-Day Walk on the Dike



First obligatory group shot:  Barbara and Meggie, Laurie and Jessie, Jim Tibbs, Kevin Brown and Levi, Jim Imholte, Bill, Debbie, Annie and Foster. To work off all the calories and to enjoy a little human and canine family bonding, we hiked at the Nature Conservancy's Ball Creek Ranch yesterday.  We won't mention the junk food purchased at Bonners Ferry's Super 1, or maybe we should.  That was our contribution to Black Friday! 



Second Obligatory Group Shot:  Barbara and Meggie, Laurie and Jessie, Jim Tibbs, Kevin Brown and Levi, Annie and Foster, Mom Love, Bill and Debbie.  (Willie had basketball practice so he could not join us, and Joyce was holding down the fort at the Tibbs Ranch).

The Jim's reconnect:  Fifty-plus years ago they were born just a week apart, about a month before the assassination of President Kennedy.  At age 6 going on 7, they were students in Mrs. Alma Riffle's first grade class at Lincoln School.  They graduated from Sandpoint High in 1982, and until recently, Jamie and Jimmy, as they were once known, hadn't seen much of each other as their lives went separate ways.  Now, they're reconnecting as "Jim" and "Jim," and doing some hiking, including yesterday's 3-mile plus hike at the Nature Conservancy's Ball Creek Ranch north of Bonners Ferry. Nice to see these guys together again.  Jim Imholte (left), you can join us any time on one of our crazy family hikes.

Annie figured Debbie needed to go on leash.

So, Debbie obliged.

Barbara's always taking pictures.  If you're on Facebook, you can check 'em out.

Thanksgiving feast reject.

Eagle eyes watching the eagle while Levi, the bird dog, takes a break.

These 50-year-old feet can still make it down the trail.

Conclave of the cold bodies.

When it's cold at the Ball Creek Ranch, anything goes with camo.

I love you, Kevin.

Now that Debbie is the exec. director of POAC, she's creating her own art. 

Holiday Marathon Moves On

It was a "sleep in" morning----until 6:24, in fact.  That's almost two hours beyond my normal wake-up time, but it was needed.  

I even put a heads-up note on the blog late last night just in case my post-Thanksgiving Day slumber lasted longer.

I did not warn the horses, though. 

As I said to Bill this morning, Lily, Lefty and Mojavee don't know about holidays and how the humans tend to get off schedule with all the eating and family merriment.  

Hungry horses don't really care about holidays.  They want their hay when they want their hay, and there's "no sleeping in" for a horse's belly.

This morning, however, the herd went easy on me as I headed toward the barn, with caffeine-deprived brain and bleary eyes still adjusting to a new day---both running a bit on low.

Unless my eyes and ears were deceiving me, nobody whinnied, nobody even looked up as I strolled through the yard.  I think they had already done the grousing and moaning and finally resolved that if she was running late, they might as well cat-nap. 

They're happy, and I'm kinda back on schedule after a long day in the kitchen and an evening of visiting with family, lasting until well after 11 p.m.  Every moment spent in the kitchen was worth it, though.  

Our feast was grand, and our visiting turned into a rollicking funfest with nearly two hours spent comparing crazy Bigfoot stories and bizarre medical experiences.  Let's see, I heard about one person swallowing a needle and, of course, Debbie Barbara and I enjoyed recounting the scary hours of Laurie's initial viral encephalitis scare.  

That segment involved some "hazmat suits, revisited" reflections, along with Laurie's recounting of the moment when the nurse had trouble finding a vein and told her she'd be back.  When she didn't come back soon enough in Laurie's encephalitis-infected mind, Laurie simply assumed, "She's killing me." 

Laurie then informed us that eventually someone came to her rescue, and she lived to tell the story on a fun-filled Thanksgiving gathering. 

It was a great day yesterday---kids ran in the turkey trot, Bill helped out by feeding horses and taking care of dogs, while I nursed the last-minute phase of attending to all aspects of my contribution to the Thanksgiving menu.

So, today with bellies still recovering from overload, we'll direct our bodies toward a hiking area with some friends here from Arizona.  There's still a little clean-up left from the Thanksgiving table set-up, but I'm gonna let down the usual guard and let it be.

After all, the horses survived my "sleep-in" day, so I think we'll all survive a day of relative disorganization filled with several more hours of family fun and enjoyment of our gorgeous piece of Heaven.  

Snow and rain are coming soon enough, so it's definitely a Carpe Diem time.  More work to prepare for the next big holiday will come soon enough. 

 Happy Friday. 

Thanksgiving Thought

Countless residents of this community are feeling a collective heavy heart this Thanksgiving morning after a car-train tragedy yesterday took the life of a vibrant and beloved young woman who has grown up here. 

On this day when we all feast and celebrate our own blessings, no doubt many of us will be mixing in a bit of prayer, remembrance and love aimed toward Kayle Porter's family and to her boyfriend's family, the Gates,  who are also mourning her loss.

May we give thanks for each precious moment of life and for those around us who mean so much. 

Blessings to all.

And, prayers to the Porter and Gates families.  May the love from this caring community sustain and strengthen you through this sad time.

Cooks Extraordinaire: Start Your Ovens!

This is the day the nation has made for someone in most households to get on their marks, get set and go like Hell, getting ready for the big turkey day:  vacuuming, dusting, filling toilet paper dispensers,  washing goblets that have occupied the from the cupboard for the past year, thawing turkeys, making one more or maybe two trips to the grocery store to pick up just a few more ingredients for the multitude of dishes on the menu, etc., etc., etc.

This is the day when most family members from out of town who will be sitting at the holiday table tomorrow show up.  A couple of our family members have already arrived.  

Annie's here.  Jim's at my sisters' house.  Kevin and Joyce will arrive later.  Mike and Mary will be in Plummer for turkey day with their daughters before coming to Sandpoint Saturday.  

Safe travels have been wished upon everyone, and when everyone arrives safely, silent thanks will be uttered along with all the other thoughts of family coming together. 

On this particular day, this cook is feeling a kinder, gentler stress, thanks to advance planning and work.  Dishes are sparkling clean.  Silver has been polished.  Goblets are ready for Willie and Debbie's tasty fruit cocktail.

Sweet potatoes, turnips (in honor of Mother) and cranberries have been prepared for days.  In this morning's blog posting,  the Pioneer Woman informed me that I could get those  mashed potatoes prepared today.  

She said NOT, however,  when it comes to making the dressing the day before.

Pioneer Woman says moisture will be lost if dressing is done too soon.  So, I'll believe her.  

I'm making a trip to town this morning (with my checkbook and NOT my plastic) to purchase just a few more items that will add a little zing to some of the traditional dishes.   

For those not in the area, we have a crisis here in this region with numerous grocery store chains which use the same food distributor.  Seems their electronic records have been hacked and that folks' credit cards could be compromised.

So, customers who shop at our local Yoke's need to take their checkbooks or their cold, hard cash if they don't want to wait in long lines at the grocery store.

Last night, Annie bought a few items at Yoke's and went to the speedy check-out stand,  only to have to do the drill of walking somewhere else in the store where her credit card could be processed.  It's an ugly, inconvenient situation coming at a very bad time. 

I'm feeling pretty good that I've stayed in the dark ages and still use checks for almost all of my local purchases.  

And, this morning a check will go for cream cheese, orange juice, Half and Half, Lawry's seasoning salt, another two boxes of brownie mix (as my brownies are disappearing quickly).   I'm sure a few more items will go in the cart too.

Then, it's back home to get those potatoes prepared and work out some more logistics for tomorrow's big meal.

And, then----this is the day the ZAGS have made to play their consolation game in the Maui tournament at 2 p.m. PST.  

So, we'll gather at Barbara and Laurie's house, watch the game, eat lightly, go home, do chores, go back and dine on a meatball casserole that Barbara has been anxious to serve for the first time. 

Then, back home, more night-before preparation, then bed and then the big day . . . . a lot to do, very little time to do it.  So, I must get moving. 

Happy Day Before the Big Turkey Day, and GO ZAGS!!!  You really redeemed yourselves yesterday in that 113-81 rout of the Silverswords, and I did sleep like a baby. 

Have a great day, all, wherever you are!

It's a New Day . . . .

I HATE those late games.  Can't remember the last time one started at 9 p.m., which, by the way, is 30 minutes past my usual bed time.

So, last night I did everything possible to keep myself busy, active and AWAKE until the ZAGS  9 p.m. tip-off in Paradise, which is three hours behind us on Pacific Standard Time.

In spite of a 20-minute nod-off just prior to the game, I managed to wake up in time to watch the match-up between undefeated Dayton and undefeated Gonzaga from beginning to end----let's see; the last time I looked at the clock, it was 11:10 p.m.  

Sadly,  last night's Maui Wowie turned out to be a Maui Owie for the ZAGS.  

Dayton came back from a 16-point deficit to make the Bulldogs look punch drunk through most of the second half.   And, I think,  toward the end,  a few ZAGS maybe even wanted to punch their opponents.

At one point, I almost took off my ZAGS sweatshirt----not so much out of disgust but to be fully ready to grab some sleep as soon as the final buzzer sounded.  

Loyalty won out. The sweatshirt stayed put until the last sad second. 

I hate the late games because of the inevitable short night to follow---I get up every morning at 4:45. 

 I also hate the late games because I know the night will be even shorter if the ZAGS lose.

So, last night it was a double whammy Maui Owie.  Late, late, late, and ouch, ouch, ouch!  

Whenever I consciously attempt to nod off into a restful sleep much beyond my usual bed time, it just doesn't happen.

A ZAGS loss late at night aggravates that situation big time. 

If they're going to lose, I wish they'd time the losses for earlier in the day or night.  

Earlier in the day or night, we still have time to find distractions to help us forget what we just witnessed. 

The pain of a ZAGS loss has time to subside, and when we go to bed, we can drop off into our usual sleep, rather than tossing, turning and reviving the misery in our minds.

Such was the case last night for me.  My night's rest included semi-slumber for nearly two hours, only to realize several times, "You are still awake, and you need to drive to Spokane tomorrow to pick up Annie and you need to be on your own game for the next three days with Thanksgiving preparations and all, and you are still awake, and now you have only three hours left to fall asleep but you are still awake and in the morning after the sun rises and you drink your latte and you get focused on the events of the day, the Gonzaga loss won't feel quite so bad as it does right now cuz you are still awake and now you need to get up and go to the bathroom because you drank so much water while trying to stay awake for that late game and maybe after you return from the bathroom, you'll fall asleep  but if you don't, there'll be that much less time to lament the loss even more and then try to get to sleep before you look at the clock and realize you have worn the night away and you have worn yourself out, trying to get to sleep . . . ."

Well, I did sleep, maybe about three hours total, and I am awake, and I've read the press and wire reports about the Gonzaga loss----that along with a fine story in the Spokesman about lice busters and how lice know no socio-economic bounds when they decide to inhabit human heads---doesn't matter to them whether the head is dirty or clean.

And, now that I want to scratch my head cuz I've read about lice and the Gonzaga loss, I've taken in enough caffeine to feel like it's a new day and that if Gonzaga loses today, it will be in the afternoon while I'm driving to Spokane to pick up Annie for her Thanksgiving visit. 

Yes, the sun is shining this morning, and there will be plenty of distractions ahead, and I'm betting that tonight I'll sleep tight, whether Gonzaga wins or loses.  

I'm also betting the players feel bad but I'm betting they don't feel nearly as bad as their fans do cuz their loss occurred in Paradise much earlier in the evening, and I'll bet they had a few distractions to forget about their pain before THEY tried to go to sleep. 

GO ZAGS!  Avoid the sting of those Chaminade Silverswords and pull off a Maui Wowie today!  And, then I'll sleep like a baby.