As the drips drop

I was thinking stream of consciousness this morning because it's wet outside. There's a mist falling from above and the promised warmer temperatures are doing their work. The snow berm outside the shop extends to only one foot below the eaves this morning where yesterday it met right on. So with that happy thought, jump in and float along with me as I do a Kenney Leen-style slightdetour today . . . I'll use the paddle while you sit back and enjoy the ride or not . . . frybread, yum, yum . . . we had some yesterday afternoon fresh from Jeannie Mikkelsen's kitchen . . . well, it wasn't completely fresh when we ate it because Bill took Jeannie on her first-ever snow-shoeing experience around the Lovestead. Of course, the destination was the Lodge Pole aka God's Tree where Jeannie added her name to his Lodgepole Log book. We're figuring Jeannie is the first 2007 signee to the log . . . after admiring the tree and all the other trees, these two Idaho Dept. of Lands colleagues came back . . . she likes snowshoeing and plans to get her own . . . then we dug into that frybread warmed up again in the microwave and smothered with melting butter and huckleberry jam . . . Chase Mikkelsen told me a few years ago his mother made the best frybread in Sandpoint . . . he even convinced her to make some one day for our English class . . . that happened to be the same day I had to miss class and for a visit to Kootenai School, so I missed the frybread . . . later Chase had a Giveaway Party where he took his Gros Ventre Indian name . . . he invited me and Bill . . . and we had Jeannie's frybread . . . a couple of times since, Jeannie has designated the Loves as frybread recipients . . . we're going to keep Jeannie on our good side and invite her to the Lovestead as often as she wants to come with frybread in hand . . . good stuff . . . through the mist this morning I walked toward the paperbox thinking about how much I love Sunday morning paper reading, especially on socked-in, rainy Sundays . . . that happy thought had just gone down stream when I started across the road to see two empty paperboxes . . . no happy feet or mind here . . . rain and no papers . . . so, as we always do in North Idaho, I found a way to make that dismal thought flow on its way . . . I walked down the road, sure that this time Annie Dog had not seen me . . . I wondered how far I'd get . . . almost to the No Trespassing neighbors' driveway when I turned around and there she stood at the Lovestead driveway looking directly at me, threatening to step into the middle of the road . . . okay, turn around and head back . . . maybe the paper will come before I reach the driveway . . . it didn't . . . I thought of the good side of this setback to my routine . . . I would not have seen the fresh moose tracks coming from the No Trespassers place, bound for Taylors' field . . . I would not have heard the blackbird Tabernacle choir over there at Isabella's house about half a mile away . . . Isabella has big aspen trees over there which serve as a choir loft, and I saw and heard the blackbirds two weeks ago while walking by . . . back to the house . . . no papers, I announced . . . that means a bad Sunday, Bill said . . . booting up my laptop near the upstairs window made all the difference . . . I could see the paper deliverer pulling up to make her deposit . . . better Sunday, I thought, leaving the laptop to fend for itself and trotting down the stairs with conviction . . . the papers were good this morning . . . that Potter guy with his tunnel vision is back at it again; in fact, the byway opponents scored a double in this morning's letters column with the NICAN deposit . . . where's that Lawrence Fury when we need him . . . I think Lawrence is still stinging from his last letter attacking the upcoming school levy which was followed by a barrage from the Lake Pend Oreille super with the name nobody can pronounce, refuting every paragraph . . . so much for Lawrence sounding off with his fury . . . he'll be back when his latest 30-day shut-your-mouth period for the Daily Blat ends . . . and it's for sure the byway stuff will go on and on with more examples of "by the way . . . has anyone ever thunk that maybe we could build an elevated suspension bridge over the city so that people who miss the good ol' days of Long Bridge road rage could make headlines by jumping off the newer higher bridge and go splat right in the middle of someone's soup on top of the new Panhandle State Bank . . . those are not nice thoughts, so I'll drift back to the papers . . . on one page in the business section . . . I saw two nice faces whom I know and love . . . first there was Jamie Emmick who's taken a new job with a firm in Spokane . . . I've got to ask her what she does because she was digging up really old stuff in the dirt the last time I saw her, and would you believe, it was in the hallowed grounds where the byway will never be seen in my lifetime . . . back to the paper . . . there at the bottom of the page was Doug Hawkins, Jr. with his book bag and looking handsome . . . he's a model student for the Zags MBA program where Doug and other model students can get their MBA's in two years . . . of course, once the U of I gets its act together in Sandpoint, Doug would not have to go to Spokane to figure out the best way to help take Litehouse, Inc into the future. . . and speaking of Doug and Zag MBA's, who would be surprised if I mentioned Zags today? . . . they play tonight in the semifinals of the WCC conference tournament, and they play the same team that they beat in a fine game last Monday night . . . Go Zags and beat U of San Diego . . . well, it's time to stop the boat and send you on your way as I float on out to the barn to clean the horsie stalls, which have more than apples and shavings this morning . . . I removed a full carpet of winter hair from Mr. Casey last night while Rambo and Miss Lily stood jealously by in their stalls having to settle for listening to Latin American music on NPR . . . sometimes it's rough being a horse at the Lovestead, but someone's gotta do it . . . Happy trails and GO ZAGS . . . GO LETTERS to the EDITOR . . . both make my day on this wet morning, but more than anything GO FRYBREAD!