Out and about II

Well, as usual, the blogger gods ate a bunch of my photos this morning, so I'll settle for what showed up. As promised the other day, I had a few cute animal shots, including Lily who disappeared into a vacuum somewhere. But, I must say that's okay cuz Lily showed up twice in this month's Appaloosa Journal, thanks to Annie's winning calendar shot. Guess what people are getting for Christmas. If anyone is so inclined to want a 2008 Appaloosa calendar, complete with Annie's December pin-up, let me know and I can send you the address for ordering them.

I caught a few shots of Mr. Lefty in his new home and providing a new job for Kiwi, now that the summer watering has ended. Kiwi stands---er--sits watch over Lefty for much of the day when he's in the barnyard. I don't even have to tell her, and Lefty doesn't mind having a canine friend nearby.

Below are some shots I took at the grand opening for Creekside Gifts/Well Life Pharmacy yesterday. Again, it's located in the same mall as the Ponderay Starbuck's, and I must say all the folks running the two stores are very nice. Some folks may recognize Kris Owens, daughter of my classmate Andrea Venishnick. And, Shirley Barksdale and her sister Helene were there two, along with a lot of other people.

Manager Kathy Lambert managed to get her hubby Mike to do the cooking, while Kathy and her new helper Becky minded the gift store. It was a fun gathering, and I was honored to be invited as part of the celebration. Thank you, Creekside Gifts.

Also, speaking of "thank you's," there was a great feature in today's Spokesman (we did not receive the North Idaho Sunday this morning), about Sandpoint's own Brandon Eller who has recently launched a fast-growing website called (www.mythankyou.com). It's for folks who want to express appreciation to family, troops, teachers, businesses, even to Brandon who's come up with a great idea. So, check it out, and thank someone on this neat new site.

Thank you very much. Have a nice Sunday.

Saturday Slight

There's snow on Schweitzer this morning. They promised that it would start raining and turn cold. It's a promise kept, and at the tops of mountains where it's even colder, the rain turned white. Though we need the liquid, I hope the rain doesn't hang around forever because fall is the most wonderful of seasons for spending time outside.

I've done a lot of garden clean-up this week and still have much to go. When we moved here, one of the eyesores on the place was out north of the north garden. A bread-loaf-style compost pile held together by orange hazard fence, woven wire and metal fence stakes did not cut a pretty scene. Every time I'd drive by, even before moving in, I'd say that pile had to go.

Last fall, I tried to get started removing it, determined that even if I had to do it one wheelbarrow full at a time, it was going. That effort stopped short when I found that the double fencing around the pile was put there to stay. My fingers, with the help of pliers, were virtually ineffective at loosening the woven wire from the stakes. So, the pile sat untouched until this summer when Mark Johnson brought his mini excavator and worked loose the fence. Mark was of the same mind as I; every time he drove by on South Center Valley Road, he thought the pile was pretty ugly too.

"At least it won't be quite as ugly when that fencing's gone," he said when asking if he could remove it while working on a water line for us. I was more than happy to give him permission, and he was right. The fence removal did erase part of the north yard blight, and the pile continued to stand on its own.

Since then, I've been digging from the pile. It's ripe stuff for sure with egg shells, sand, decayed alfalfa, even a slab of particle board. Bill says I might even run into a dead goat if I keep digging. The other day I dug into the stinkiest item I've ever smelled. It looked like it may have been a really dead goose egg, but I'm just not sure. I just know that my nose has never been so overcome with such rotten fumes. A large ant colony has taken residence in the pile, as have many mice. So far, I haven't dug up any of their nests, but I clearly remember how much time the cats spent over there when we first moved in.

Each wheelbarrow load of compost has gone to replenish garden beds over west of the house. I can't wait to see what grows next year with that enhanced soil. Some of that ripe stuff will also go to a new bed surrounding the shot put circle out south of the house. Have I mentioned that we probably have Bonner County's only shot put circle not located on a school ground?

The previous owners' son almost made the Olympics with his putting prowess, so I'm sure Mom and Dad did everything they could to provide him ample time for practice. Since Bill or I don't plan to participate in any track and field events any time soon, I'm planning to dig a new flower bed around the circle and eventually get someone to do a painting on the cement. Or, maybe I'll just put a single chair out there for folks to sit and reflect while looking at the posies, which will, no doubt, be bulb plants for starters.

Besides garden stuff today, I'm spending part of the afternoon at the Creekside Gifts/Well Life Pharmacy grand opening. They've asked me to do a book signing and reading at 2 p.m., so if you're looking for a new place to do some Christmas shopping, I'd love to see you there. It is a very nice store, especially for us folks north of town.

I'm pretty sure the store is gonna get some traffic today, since it's located in the same mall as the Ponderay Starbuck's. And since that truck ran through part of the downtown Starbuck's this week, I figure plenty of in-town caffeine junkies will come out Ponderay way to get their fix. I understand there will also be a barbecue going on in conjunction with the grand opening, so it should be a fun time for all.

Guess that's all from the Lovestead on this last September Saturday. Hope all is well with everyone; have a happy Saturday.

Out and about

Finally, the blogger gods allowed me to publish some of my recent photos. I'll leave the cute animal pictures for another day. These pictures span from a couple of weeks ago until two days ago, when autumn was making its vibrant presence known.

I figure I captured the "last rose of summer" at the Lovestead; that rosebush, by the way, was given to Mom and Dad Love by Miss Annie Love when we first moved here. It has put out lots of prettiness this summer, and that last rose appeared to me as exquisite with its light coating of frost and the iddy biddy bug taking a petal ride.

Our red maple tree provides daily updates in the downward spiral of leaf life. If I were to post a photo from this morning, the leaves would be about two shades darker than these were showing a couple of days ago.

Obviously, in the bottom collection, I turned indoors at the Dover Community Hall the Saturday before last when Maggie of Dover (bottom photo) hosted a wedding shower for everyone's "little Dover darling," and the Spokesman-Review's reporter extraordinaire Erica Curless.

Please note in that one cheeky shot that I taught both women. I called her "Mrs. Becker." Some people call her "Gort," and others call her Gloria. If she were sitting in my senior English class now (almost 40 years from that first time), she would be called Mrs. Cozort.

Erica's mom Gail and some of the school district bus driver crowd are also among the proud folks wishing Erica well for her upcoming wedding next Saturday at none other than Dover Beach. The Erica-Matt knot will be cinched by none other than Randy Curless, her dad and the mayor of Dover.

A woman who would be mayor

Sorry again, about the lateness of the blog. I don't know what's going on. For a time, I blamed the slowness on my laptop. Then, I came upstairs to the main computer and still waited forever to get into the blogger inner sanctum. Rather than sitting like I did yesterday, I went out and cleaned barns.

The blogger inner sanctum has finally allowed my entrance, so this morning, I'm going to post this week's River Journal column, complete with all unedited facts provided by Gretchen Albrecht-Heller in a recent Q and A interview. So, here's a chance for folks to get to know a little more about the lady who is opposing Mayor Ray Miller in this year's Nov. 6 Sandpoint city election.

Take it away, Gretchen:

Mayoral Candidate Gretchen Hellar Q and A—full-length interview.

Love Notes

by Marianne Love

for The River Journal

September, 2007

Gretchen “Ginger” Albrecht-Hellar would like to serve as Sandpoint’s mayor. As Mayor Ray Miller’s sole opposition in his quest for another four-year term in the Nov. 6 city election, Hellar views the mayoral position as an opportunity to utilize her people and problem-solving skills to create a more positive, inclusive atmosphere in the workings of city government and among its constituents.

In her own words, candidate Gretchen Hellar (www. Gretchenhellar.com) discloses in this exclusive River Journal Q and A her motivations, beliefs and hopes for an opportunity to serve as Sandpoint’s next mayor.

Full name: Gretchen Albrecht-Hellar

Nickname: Ginger (when I was a kid with red hair and an “attitude”)

Age: 64

Born when and to whom: Detroit, Michigan

Linden E. Albrecht and Lois Land-Albrecht (both deceased)

Sibling: Lin Albrecht (deceased)

Describe your parents and how they influenced you.

My father was a mechanical engineer and a “Herbert Hoover” Republican. My mother was an English/drama teacher, an Edgar Guest-style poet, and an “Adlai Stevenson” Democrat.

My father was a calm, rational, engineer type who was a steadying influence on our family (especially my mother who was always a whirlwind of activity and had a dramatic, sometimes comedic, outlook on life). He insisted on careful analysis and reflection before acting and was constantly asking “Did you think about the consequences before you did what you did?”

He was a disciplinarian but in the sense that his most scathing punishment was to tell me, “I’m disappointed in you,” if I engaged in some activity he deemed inappropriate. Believe me that was more upsetting that had I been physically punished.

He disliked egoistic self-aggrandizement and always maintained that if what you did were truly noteworthy people would know about it without you having to brag about it. His calm, deliberative approach to life influences me to this day. I never saw him lose his temper, heard him raise his voice, nor say anything hurtful to any of us. Quite a model to follow!!!!

My mother had a zest for the quirks of life and enjoyed the surprise of the unexpected. She was very non-judgmental of others and would always rise to the defense of the “underdog”. If my brother or I ever said that we didn’t like someone or that someone was not a good person, she would say that we should be more concerned about whether people liked and respected us than trying to “put down” someone else. She was an amateur actress and playwrite who was involved in local theater. She was active politically not only at the local level but at the state level when I was growing up.

She was an active Democrat in a community that was even more conservative than Idaho.

They both valued education. Dinner conversation usually revolved around political issues or some type of “off the wall” idea. One question I remember was “try to describe nothing without referring to something” Both were avid readers and several times a week we would all gather in the living room with our favorite books and just read. When my brother and I were younger those evenings would revolve around my mother reading Greek mythology to us. (Her mother was a Latin teacher and also a scholar of the Greek classics).

Describe your childhood.

I was raised in Pittsburgh, Pa. My family life is described above, I believe. My early interests included sports of all kinds—especially softball. My high school had a strong sports program for girls and I was pitcher (as well as clean up hitter) for our intramural league “pennant winner.” I was an avid diver and ice skater. I had great hopes of playing professional softball until it was pointed out to me that there were no professional leagues for women at that time. I was also active in the Methodist Youth Fellowship and volunteered at the local home for senior citizens.

My parents always rented a small cottage on Lake Erie and I would spend my summers is a very lazy way—eating honey-butter sandwiches on the beach. This lake community was the location of my most memorable experience as a child.

Most memorable childhood experience:

Every Friday night the whole lake community would gather together to play bingo. The prizes were candy bars, beach towels, and so on. The grand prize of the evening was a live turkey. The usual outcome was that a family had a turkey dinner. I was about 12 and I won the live turkey. Rather than turning it over to the resident butcher at the end of the evening, I tearfully requested that I be allowed to take him home for at least one night.

My parents capitulated. He was to be left outside the cabin, but in the wee hours of the morning I rescued him from the back yard and took his cage into my bedroom. Unfortunately, the latch on the cage came undone and about 6AM I was awakened by a cacophony of sounds including guttural gobbles and screams. The bird had my mother cornered and my father was trying to figure out where to grab the beast. I, of course, started screaming not to hurt “Alvin” (my chosen name for my new pet), and my brother contributed gales of laughter.

He was finally captured and re-caged. (The turkey not my brother.) My father announced that the next stop would be the butcher. I replied that I would never eat again if Alvin were killed. Midst my tears and recriminations my father took Alvin away, never to be seen again. That night we had hotdogs for dinner.

Three adjectives others use to describe you:

Creative---I chose this because I enjoy the creative arts such as painting and poetry, and enjoy seeking creative ways in which to solve problems.

Energetic—I like to keep busy and often seem to juggle several things at once. I think the current term for that is “multi-tasking”.

Determined—I work hard at whatever tasks are before me and do my homework prior to acting. I handle problems and issues as they arise rather than just hoping “they will go away”. Issues ignored merely grow more severe. Issues resolved leads to a feeling of accomplishment and empowerment.

Marital status: divorced

Education: B.S. social work, graduate degree Sociology, Michigan State University

Career: Co-founder and owner of Available Hardware Supply (wholesale hardware distribution company) with branches in Post Falls, Seattle, and Boise with 62 employees and over $12 million in sales when sold in 1993.

Other positions held include Social Science Research Associate (Denver Research Institute), Assistant Professor of Sociology at University of Hawaii.

Most exciting travel:

Motorcycle trip through rural Japan. I had never been on a motorcycle and never out of the U.S. We spent most of our time on the back roads of Japan, spending time and staying with farm families, enjoying “non-tourist” contact with small town folks, and a map-free “let’s take that road” experience. It was a completely non-scripted trip. From Japan we traveled to New Zealand and again just followed our noses. No plans, no destination, just memorable experiences.

Present interests beside politics:

Becoming a more proficient watercolorist and learning how to express ideas as well as objects in my paintings.

Gardening, focusing on seeing how much of my food can be produced in a city garden and using native plants to create a garden look that says North Idaho not just garden.

Trying to live simply by divesting myself of things that I don’t need; taking care of things eats up a lot of time that can be used more constructively.

My role models:

My parents and qualities I see in my friends that I admire.

Favorite meal:

Fresh tomatoes with fresh mozzarella, basil, olive oil and balsamic vinegar, fresh out of the oven home made bread, corn from the “corn man” at farmer’s market, and grilled baby potatoes from my garden.

Favorite music:

Blues: artists Nina Simone, Muddy Waters, and all the old “slow” blues singers

Not sure of the genre name but my favorite artist is Leonard Cohen.

Routine day:

Let dogs out, make a pot of tea, read the paper and do the cryptogram, survey the “back 40”, take a walk, usually attend some meeting, dabble in my art studio, and read in the evening.

Personal attributes and attitudes:

I see myself as open-minded---having a love of learning, and being someone who does what they say they are going to do. Of course, only others can say if I have those attributes.

Attitudes: I would describe myself as a realistic idealist. I believe in the ability of people to be fair and compassionate but realize that sometimes “life” gets in the way. I hope I demonstrate fairness and compassionate when I see myself as well as others not living up to those ideals.

Basic life lesson learned:

Whenever I unintentionally harm myself or others by a misspoken word or act, it is because I let my ego get in the way—usually protecting my self-concept of who or what I am. If I stop and think about whether I am being defensive or self-aggrandizing before I act, I usually will make a better decision than if I merely react.

Strategy for handling conflict and change:

Conflict, if it remains constructive, is really a learning opportunity and a chance to practice patience and respect for differing opinions. The key is to ensure that the conflict remains constructive and does not generate into hostility or flow beyond the bounds of the specific issue. An important approach is to listen, to try to understand why the other person is so convinced they are correct, and to attempt to find some common ground. Obviously, both parties think the issue is important, or there would be no conflict. That in itself constitutes common ground.

The next step is to insist that the discussion not become personal or accusatory. Stepping back and refusing to engage in personal recriminations, name-calling or accusations is mandatory and can be done if one refuses to respond in kind. In a town our size keeping conflict constructive is extremely important.

The person with whom you disagreed on Monday may be a dinner guest of a mutual friend on Friday along with you. Believing that most people want what they think is best for the community, even if you have another vision, is the place to start. We have to live together, understand that people come at issues with different perspectives and concerns, and that if no resolution is possible we can agree to disagree without letting it affect other areas in which we must work together.

Change is a learning opportunity—a chance to learn new responses, try new ideas and discover how others have effectively or ineffectively dealt with similar issues. I find change exciting not frightening. It is an opportunity for personal growth. Indeed, it requires it. Change in one area, however, affects all of the other relationships in the system.

(Marianne, this is an example of what I mean--Let’s take the changes occurring in our community, for example. People are flocking to Sandpoint for reasons ranging from our beautiful environment to the desire to escape overcrowded conditions. Some of these people are second homeowners not permanent residents. This has provided a boost to our local economy, helped local businesses grow and thrive, energized our construction industry, and provided vitality to our community.

All these are good things, but they have also affected other areas in a negative way. This outside demand for housing and land has forced our land costs to soar, making it difficult to find affordable housing. Some of our major exporting businesses who make their profits selling outside the area such as Lighthouse, Coldwater Creek, Quest Aircraft Co. and others as well as institutions and businesses that serve the local population such as the schools, local governments and the hospital have found it increasingly difficult to recruit employees because of the cost of housing which is affected by land costs.

Our infrastructure, designed to meet the needs of the community, has been stretched to meet the added demand).

Handling change means not only encouraging its positive aspects but also attempting to reduce potentially harmful aspects. Thinking ahead and being proactive helps ensure that the positive aspects of change do not blind us to potential problems created in other areas as a consequence of that change. Some folks don’t like the change associated with this growth but they might well dislike even more the changes associated with a dying community.

What I like most about living in Sandpoint:

The people.

What prompted to you run for mayor?

I think we can do better—better in the way we handle our differences, better in the way we formulate local policies, and more efficient in using our resources and tax dollars.

In October 2003, the current mayor was quoted in the Daily Bee responding to the question of why Sandpoint is better than it was 10 years ago, “Sandpoint is better now because it is becoming more unified instead of divided, people are working together instead of in opposition.” That is certainly not true today. It can be true again with different leadership.

How and why would the residents and businesses of Sandpoint benefit with you as mayor from 2008-2012? Describe your dream for Sandpoint four years from the time you take office.

During my term I hope that Sandpoint has become proactive rather than reactive when faced with change, working in an atmosphere of cooperation and collaboration, not the non-constructive conflict all too frequent today. I know how to deal effectively with change and growth.

As co-owner of a business that grew from zero employees to over 60, from small local distributor to a distribution business with branches in Seattle and Boise, I managed the problems associated with rapid growth while maximizing its opportunities. I learned how to ensure that growth was balanced and did not degrade the qualities that made it possible. Those same skills are necessary now to handle the growth of our community.

How do you propose to establish a sense of unity and cooperation among the diverse groups who have passionately different ideas about directions the town should be moving?
It is the mayor’s responsibility to encourage and facilitate an atmosphere of collaboration not conflict. We have to recognize that, regardless of our differences, most people want what is best for our town. I would foster an atmosphere in which each side recognizes that the other has valid concerns and that all approaches have downsides.

I would bring diverse groups together to hammer out solutions that all can live with. That requires listening to all sides, respecting the right to differ, and acknowledging that one side does not have all the answers. The mayor needs to actively lead this process.

What new and workable ideas for moving Sandpoint forward while retaining its uniqueness do you propose?

With a new comprehensive plan based on community discussions we will soon know where Sandpoint citizens want to be in 20 years and what we want to preserve over time. We will have a blueprint for progress that enhances our uniqueness instead of threatening it. In developing the plan, citizen participation is being encouraged, people with diverse views are sitting at the same table and either agreeing or 'agreeing to disagree' without hostility, in an enjoyable community process. I will work to implement the vision that comes out of this, and work constructively with the community to prepare Sandpoint to meet its future.

Which issues within the community will get your most enthusiastic attention, and how will you address them?

Sandpoint is growing and will continue to grow. My major concern is to have growth benefit the community. Development of a new Comprehensive Plan is currently underway. If done correctly, it will address economic development, neighborhood preservation, transportation, green spaces and parks, infrastructure and many other community issues as they relate to each other and affect our future. Ensuring that the plan is based on citizen input, integrates all of the above issues, and is actively used to review current ordinances and develop new ones will be my major focus.

Why should people vote for you rather than Ray Miller, who's had several years of experience on the council and as mayor?

Because I will solve problems, not create them. First, I have extensive business experience particularly in the area of budgets, fiscal management, and operations. I know I can run a successful, efficient organization not only in the private sector but also in the public arena.

Second, I have experience in objectively evaluating the effectiveness of governmental programs. While at Denver Research Institute my job was to determine which programs should continue, how they could be improved, and which ones should be de-funded. Finally, one of our major problems today is that differences between the mayor and the council become tainted with hostility, personal recrimination, and anger. An open, respectful management style will go along way in reducing this unacceptable situation.

What basic strategies do you intend to follow as you proceed through the day-to-day responsibilities as Sandpoint's mayor?

Administrative responsibilities: Priorities need to be set and reflected in the budget, objective measurable goals need to be developed and used to assess progress toward those goals, interdepartmental cooperation needs to be formalized, and staff recommendations need to be valued and considered in the formulation of policies.

Council relations: the council members need to be involved in identifying issues, proposing solutions to those problems, and be kept informed about the progress of their directives. Every council member should have access to all the information needed to make informed decisions. It is the mayor’s responsibility to ensure that this happens.

Citizen relations: Be available, be out in the community, be open and honest, and bring important issues to the community before a decision is made. I will publicize issues before decisions are made through local media and the city website and I will make it easy for citizens to comment on those issues. Too often people feel the city is doing something “to them” rather than with them. This does not have to be.

How do you intend to address the ongoing conflicts associated with the Byway?

This is an example of an issue that has degenerated into non-constructive hostility and anger. This is a state project and realistically the city has little influence in what ITD does. There are local options to addressing our traffic problems. Let’s get busy on them at our city level.

Your own question here: Some folks have accused you of being anti-growth or no-growth. Are you?

Absolutely not! A growing community is a vibrant community not only economically but also in all aspects of community life. But we must ensure that we are not only getting bigger but also getting better.

We must ensure that our existing businesses thrive and grow even as we attempt to recruit new businesses. We must ensure that growth is balanced and the benefits are shared among all segments of the community.

We must ensure that growth increases options and choice not constricts them. Most importantly, we must ensure that growth doesn’t threaten those community assets that allowed for growth to occur in the first place.

We have tools that will help us to do this but it will require all sectors of the community to work together towards the goal of building a better not just bigger community.

---

Slogging Blogger

Well, I've been here for nearly an hour, waiting to get into the innards of the blogger site. I don't know what's wrong today, but some snails must've gotten into the system. I tried to post some photos, but nothing happened.

Then, I decided to explain that things were running slow this morning. I waited another 15 minutes to get to this draft window. I noticed something while waiting that long: my blog ID is in the 9 millions. Was I waiting for 9 million other bloggers to get on board? That's a lot of waiting.

I also noticed that today is a 3-5 dot day in the progress window when it should be an immediate 10-dot day. One notices things while sitting as a slave to the blogger addiction. I could have gotten up and gone outside, but no---I knew Helen and RoseMarie would be there sitting at their computers, clicking and clicking and clicking on that "slightdetour" link, wondering what the heck is keeping Marianne today.

So, I sat here, in deference to my friends who care, knowing they would need an explanation as to why I had no smart remarks this morning. Well, I've looked at that pretty red maple outside the living room window long enough while waiting for the slogging blogger to get into gear.

So, no smart remarks, no photos, no emergencies at the Lovestead this morning---just damn slow blogger gods tending to more than 9 million crazy people who think they have to write something for the world to see each morning. I guess the gods are tired this morning, so I'll give them a break and the slightdetour readers a break by saying "That's all, folks! Maybe tomorrow will be a faster day."

Rudy at the Lovestead

I made a total fool out of myself yesterday. Yes, I can hear the chorus out there: But, Marianne, you do that all the time." Well, yesterday's version was definitely one to write about; in fact, it's already been written about on "Huckleberries Online," which started the whole thing in the first place. I've learned from this experience to slow down, read carefully and reread before jumping the gun.

On my usual skimming of Oliveria's list of morning items, I read the top segment to say that Rudy Guililani's front man was looking for someone in Idaho to host a party where Rudy would speak via video to homes across the country this Wednesday afternoon----tomorrow. Since I kinda like Rudy, I thought it would be a hoot to have him come mingle with commoners at the Lovestead.

I would do the same for Obama or Bill Richardson or Mitt Romney because I could deal with any of them as Presidents. Yes, I can hear the chorus out there: Marianne, you're forsaking womanhood; you're bypassing Hillary. And, yes, chorus, you're absolutely right, and I don't feel too much traitorous guilt within.

Anyway, in my characteristic spontaneous burst of reaction, I wrote right away to Oliveria and said I'd love to hose Rudy at a party here at the Lovestead, touting the beautiful backdrop of horses in the field and Schweitzer Mountain.

I had actually considered that it would be totally unrealistic that such an event could be pulled off by Wednesday afternoon, with all the security needs and such, but then I figured there's a whole slough of those folks out there wanting to be President, and they probably have to move fast. I figured that Helen Baker and the Community Assistance League might even help me bake some real quick cookies for the event.

Oliveria got my note, said thanks and said he'd already passed it on to the Rudy front man. He then asked if I would re-post my gracious offering on "Huckleberries," so I did, adding a few extra tidbits---like what a great photo op the Lovestead could provide. I couldn't believe that things could move so fast, but Oliveria seemed pleased, and if Rudy's front man had already received word, they would be moving even faster.

Then, I decided to call my mother and tell her to get ready for Rudy.

"If he comes, I want to meet him," she intoned.

"Well, let me read to you what Oliveria put on 'Huckleberries,'" I said. Well, often when reading out loud, little noticed facts often pop up. The fact that Rudy's front man was really looking for some sucker to host a heap of Republicans while they watched Rudy on video came jumping off the screen prepared to go "splat" right between my eyes as I finished the sentence.

Oops, Marianne, you've done a real number on yourself this time, I thought to myself while hurrying to get Mother off the phone so I could hurry and undo my stupidity. Well, it's pretty hard to undo the stupidity, but I did renege on my "gracious" offer to host Republicans after learning I would not be hosting Rudy.

I also called Oliveria to make sure he'd gotten my message. He made me feel a little better by telling me that he had originally reacted the same way I had when the Rudy front man had called him the night before. When he realized it was only one of those high-tech house party gimmicks all the candidates seem to love using, the whole concept lost its luster in his mind too. Only difference was he hadn't made a public fool of himself.

Anyway, Rudy's not coming to the Lovestead. And, having Republicans running all over the place would not be feasible anyway cuz we're still in dark age dial-up and high tech political house parties just don't work so well with dial-up. So, I got off the hook, but not before relaying to Oliveria that the real reason I'd jumped at the chance was that some day I'd like to lay my eyes on a real live human that's been President. Rudy may have a chance, but I'm not so sure I'd settle for looking at Hillary, just to fulfill my life ambition.

I almost saw Bill Clinton in 1993 when we were inside the White House while the President and a bunch of happy people were celebrating the adoption of the NAFTA agreement. By the time, I got to a door where I could actually see the President, he had already boarded a helicopter enroute to Air Force One and a trip to Asia. So, we missed out on that one.

If anyone's got any clout with anyone who's been President or anyone who's sure they're going to be President, tell 'em to make arrangements for Marianne to fulfill her desire to cross one more thing off life's list of "things to do." And, be sure to tell 'em that she'll be glad to host them at the Lovestead, feed them cookies and even let them sign the Lodgepole Log.

In the meantime, Marianne's in the bathroom scrubbing that big coating of egg yoke off her face.

Situation normal

Except for a couple of traumatic moments this weekend, I'm pleased to say that things are feeling pretty normal this morning. We did nail up extra boards between the box stalls Friday night to ensure that Little Mr. Lefty wouldn't stick his head through the openings to get it kicked off or get it stuck and break his neck.

The barn-board band-aides worked, and we've now had three nights of Little Lefty and Big Lily co-existing side by side in the darkness without incident. Oh, Lily still puts on a show when I walk into the barn each morning, feigning a Lefty assault, either by wheeling at him with that evil eye and threatening to take a chomp out of him or by reversing that big spotted rear end up next to the stall separation and promising to give him a good swift kick. But, so far and thankfully, it seems all fake, just like TV wrestling.

I told Bill this morning that my presence in the barn represents FOOD, and Lily exudes selfish nastiness when it comes to defending her food. So, I'm thinking that once she has her food, there's no need to go after that poor little Lefty. I give her a bite, give him a bite, fill his outside bucket, take Lily to her pasture, take Lefty to his pasture, and then all is well for the day until the FOOD routine repeats itself at night when they return to their stalls.

We did have one rather dramatic trauma with Lily, Lefty, Kiwi, Annie, Fuzzy Wuzzy (the cat) and the bees yesterday. I took Lefty to the hayfield pasture. Lily protested while watching Lefty go by, so Bill put a halter on Lily and brought her along too. Flanked by Kiwi, Annie and Fuzzy Wuzzy, we walked the horses into the woods, figuring they might want to eat the tall grass in one of the openings.

Well, Lily didn't like that grass cuz she knew the hayfield grass was much greener and tastier, so we headed back to that field. It was a beautiful sight watching horses eat at the ends of their lead ropes, while Kiwi, who's decided that Lefty is her animal to herd, watched, with that Border Collie intensity, every move Lefty made. Meanwhile, Annie lounged in the deep, green grass, content that her horses and her people were nearby. Fuzzy Wuzzy, who wishes she had been born a dog, raced and leapt through the field.

Suddenly, in this pastoral serenity, all Hell broke loose. Lefty started kicking upward with both hind legs. When Lefty started kicking upward, Kiwi decided to come in for some hard-core herding. Lefty kept kicking, and I kept yelling at Kiwi to get away. At first, I figured it was just horse fly tormenting the little guy and that it would eventually go away.

The kicking continued as did the upclose-and-personal herding, much too close to those razor-sharp baby-horse hooves. Then, I noticed a bee flying around Lefty's rear end, but it flew away and I moved him away from what must have been a nest in the grass. But he kept kicking and Kiwi insisted on being dangerously close to those hooves. Finally, I noticed why Lefty was so frantic.

A bee had attached itself to his rear end and had just kept on stinging him. I flicked it off with the end of the lead rope but not before he had inwittingly connected with Kiwi. She ran off. Once again, as has happened so many times this summer, my emotions spun out of control. Not another animal disaster, I thought. Kiwi crouched near the fence and then raced to the house, uncharacteristically refusing to come when called.

It seemed like forever before we got the horses back to their regular pastures. All I wanted was see that Kiwi was okay, but calmness was essential, lest something worse happen on our trip back to the barn area. When the horses were safely in their enclosures, Kiwi came running from the house to me, knocking me down and smothering me with intense affection that only a Border collie can offer.

She was fine, but she also knew the potential gravity of the pasture-land situation, and I think she was feeling pretty relieved to have come out of it unscathed. The only one more relieved was me.

Since May, I have become very gun shy about my animals and their well being. I still haven't entirely gotten over those two sudden tragic deaths of my two horse friends earlier this summer along with Miss Lily's near miss with the dump truck when she escaped the Lovestead one day and ventured over to Selle Road.

It's weird how such events can turn you into a paranoic worry wart with little confidence that everything will be okay----most of the time. I'm working on restoring that confidence, and it would be nice to have a few weeks of incident-free life with these animals that we grow to love so much.

For now, on this frosty Monday morning, it's an incident-free day. The situation with the Lovestead animals is normal, and for that, I'm very thankful.

A lurid news day

It's a tough Sunday morning when the Spokesman-Review doesn't show up in the paper box.

That means just three sips of coffee, if I'm lucky, while reading the North Idaho Sunday. Now that the Farmer Gray show has come and gone from the Panida (unfortunately, we couldn't attend cuz of Lefty's arrival at the Lovestead), except for the reviews, it appears the folks at the paper had to rely on the courts and the sheriff's office rather than the Gunter family to supply our Sunday morning news.

Two stories on the left side about nasty sex abominations (when they use penetration, you know it's bad, and when they tack on the phrase 'with a foreign object' you really cringe). One story about lewd behavior on the right side of Page 1 joined an above-the-fold piece about a pair arrested for meth, all right here in the West's Best Small Town. Oh, there was a kudo, I've read before and a big feature on the Arts Alliance venue, which used to be the home of St. Agnes Episcopal Church.

Maybe the letters will be good, I thought, while turning the page. Yup, Steve Brixen offered us a potpourri of his thoughts on the situations of the day. His focus dealt with overrated political correctness which tends to dominate every word we utter, every bite we choose to eat, every offensive gesture we might make while we're really just scratching our head.

Then, there was that Tunnel Man. Gosh, he sure did get that letter to the Bee quickly. Wasn't the Army Corps of Engineers decision to give a preliminary permit on the Byway just announced late Friday afternoon? Or, did I miss a day in there somewhere? How come Mr. Tunnel Man gets special privileges on letters to the editor? Hasn't Mr. Tunnel Man already used his quota for the month of September, and didn't he write that letter mighty damn fast after that announcement?

I'm gonna tell Lawrence Fury about this.

I bet Mr. Tunnel Man already had that letter written just like they do with canned obituaries for all the famous people before they die, accidentally releasing some to the press prematurely. I bet he just pulled it out of his folder marked "Letters to the Daily Bee for the Next 100 Years." I'll bet he's been sitting down there in his condo writing letters for every possible situation that could brainwash us above-grounders into developing a severe case of Tunnel Vision. Is there a cure for such things?

Even though I've lived here forever, I'll have to admit ignorance on figuring out that Mystery Lady was Alice Nelson. I love Alice Nelson, and I'm glad she got featured. Again, a gong went off in my head when it dawned on me by reading the article that Alice and Bill Stockman might be step siblings. People in the know can correct me if I'm wrong. I'll bet the two of them could feed us a smorgasboard of local history.

Anyway, I've spent a whole lot longer writing about what I saw in the North Idaho Sunday than I spent reading it. The nice part, I guess, is that having no Spokesman has saved on the Lovestead economy today. I did not need to refill my coffee cup to come upstairs to write my blog. And, I guess that is some good news to wipe away thoughts of the smutty stuff that dominated the front page.

And, some additional good news at the Lovestead this morning. Mr. Lefty and Miss Lily are doing just fine. They've spent two nights side by side in their box stalls, and the barn remains intact. Lefty has his pasture near the barn, and Lily has her pasture just across the driveway. They can see each other, and all is calm.

And, some BREAKING NEWS! Some folks BREAK horses; we like to think of them being trained. That's just what's happening with Miss Lily. I've been lungeing her for the past few weeks, complete with saddle, bit and training reins. Yesterday, Laurie and Barbara came over to check my progress. After lungeing her for a while, Laurie asked Barbara to come into the round pen and hold Lily while she climbed on.

Laurie put her full weight in the stirrup on the left side a couple of times and did the same on the right. Then, she came back to the left side, climbed aboard and sat on Lily. Lily didn't flinch or even make a dirty face. So, in the next few weeks, she could be learning more about her career as a saddle horse---and Laurie will be teaching her from above.

Hope you all have a little good news on this Sunday. Now, I'll go out and see if that Spokesman-Review ever showed up.

The Byway is coming, the Byway is coming . . . .

It was Chicken Little, wasn't it, who claimed the sky was falling-----and it never has. I'm still wondering how the chicken is going to get to the other side-----of Sandpoint, that is. That's age-old, well, maybe the reason that little clucker wanted on the other side is the real point, but, still, it's been a debatable question for a long time----just like the Byway.

Why is it that I'm not jumping for joy this morning after learning that the Army Corps of Engineers gave a preliminary okay to the Byway along Sand Creek. Could it be that I've lived in Sandpoint for all my life and have heard about Bypass (politically correct now) Byway talk pert'near most of that life?

We natives tend to be skeptics. It is good news in my mind, but I'll be the first to jump for joy when I can perform that ceremonial jump on a piece of cement that makes up the long-contested byway. I promise!

And, it will be for two reasons. One, because I'm happy and the other literally for Joy, my late friend. She always proposed organizing the All-Bonner County Rock Fight, which would call together all those people who don't agree on anything, line 'em up on one of those bridges crossing Lake Pend Oreille, give 'em rocks and let 'em go at it.

With all due respect for Joy, I'd like to see the All-Bonner County Rock Fight become a moot point in Sandpoint. Wouldn't it be nice if we could finally agree that fighting over a piece of necessary progress so that we and all the other swarms of people we've invited here could get along a little better is just not worth it----and move on---through town with ease.

I never liked all the industrial expansion that gradually stole away all our beautiful farm fields and our rural way of life over there west of the airport, but I was also realistic enough to know that it was inevitable. I view the Byway the same way. If we could put all the energy that's been devoted to fighting about the Byway over the five or so decades into more productive issues, think of what we could do to enhance our lives here.

I hope this happens, and I truly hope the Byway news is not like Chicken Little's long-fabled pronouncement. Besides, I don't think the Byway through Sandpoint will be nearly as scary as the sky falling. And, when it does happen, there will be a lot of little chickens and dogs and people mighty glad that they can finally get to the other side on a beastly hot July day without wanting to kill someone.

In other news, Mr. Lefty Horse came home to the Lovestead last night. The adjustment for Mr. Lefty, who left his friend Dusty, and for Miss Lily Horse, who's not sure Lefty is the answer to her loneliness, has been a little tentative.

Nonetheless, both horses are still in one piece this morning, and so is the barn. Bill nailed up extra boards between the stalls last night. Now, Lefty's in the barnyard eating his Equine Junior and Lily's in her pasture just a few feet away, where they can see each other and get used to the idea of co-habitation.

I'll give away crooked-necked squash to the first ten or so people who come to see Lefty and Lily today-----and there might be a tomato or two also. Make yourself at home and be sure to sign the Lodgepole Log if you decide to come.

Happy Saturday and Happy Byway to You, Happy Byway to You, Happy Byway, Happy Byway, Happy Byway to you!

And, please pray that nevermore will we have WAR over the byway!

Schwans' truck saga

Bill came home early yesterday because he had a meeting at six. So, we ate hamburgers with "Oprah." And, by the way, anyone who hasn't read John Krakauer's Into the Wild should go find a copy and finish it by Oct. 5. That's when Sean Penn's movie, based on this riveting true story of a young man who starved to death while living in a bus at Alaska's Denali National Park, will open at theaters nationally.

Annie told me a few months ago that she'd seen Sean Penn and Emile Hirsch (star of the movie) at her hotel in Seattle. They were in town filming that segment of Chris McCandless' saga across America, which eventually ended with his mysterious death.

I was excited to hear, at the time, that a movie was coming, and yesterday's "Oprah" provided a great introduction to what could be one of the best-ever true life movies. It will rank right up there with Seabiscuit---I guarantee.

Anyway, after Bill left for his meeting, I picked some beans, put the dogs in the garage and headed off on my bike. Since the weather has cooled a bit, I've been enjoying evening rides around the Selle Valley.

For example, there's a great ride down Woodside Road where, if you're there at the right time, you can see the elk herd that lives on the Wood Ranch. It's all pavement and mostly flat; besides, the huge dump trucks from Wood's Crushing are not moving so one can have enjoy almost sole ownership of the road in the early evening hours.

Last night I decided to take the Hickey Road route, which is about 5-6 miles. Twice before, I've ridden the loop heading down East Shingle Mill Road, turning at Jacobson Road, and then turning north at my friend Jenny's new residence (Ina's home forever). Last night I decided to go the opposite direction, and I also decided to count the deer along the way.

I didn't count on seeing my friend and former student, Jacque Meneely Turner, but while pedaling toward her home, she was arriving home. So, I waved, she stopped, got out of the car with her cut little pooch, and we did some visiting. I knew my window of daylight was short and I had a long way to go, so our visit was a bit abbreviated from the usual gab sessions.

My goal for the evening ride was to count 50 deer in the fields. I figured if I came close, I'd just keep riding until hitting the magic number. That's pretty easy in the Selle Valley. Well, it seemed easy enough last night because I still had more than a mile to pedal when I counted Nos. 50, 51, 52, and 53 in a field to my left.

That last tallying was a bit distracted, however, because I knew a vehicle was coming up behind me, and I didn't want to accidentally pedal out into its path. After the deer count for that particular field, I turned my head backward and saw that the vehicle was THE SCHWANS' TRUCK. Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal, but at that very second, I realized a senior memory lapse had occurred.

The Schwans' man was coming tonight, and Bill had left his usual generous order. Bill wasn't home, but the dogs were. Bill doesn't like to miss the Schwan's man, and he knew he wouldn't have to worry cuz Marianne was home to take care of the order. At least, that's what Bill thought. Lucky for Bill I'd counted my 50-plus deer.

I pedaled like I've never pedaled a bike before as I watched those tail lights move further and further down Selle Road. Hoping he would stop at one of the houses along the way, I remained optimistic that I'd get home in time to jump off my bike, go inside and get that order.

He did not stop anywhere along the road that I could see, and as other cars came from the opposite direction, with their headlights obstructing my view, I could no longer see tail lights. And, I was still more than half a mile away.

I did not stop, look and listen at the UP tracks near the old grange hall. I flew over them, letting fate decide whether a night train headed for Spokane would flatten me. Sadly, if that should happen, no one would know the story that I was really chasing down the Schwan's truck, and even sadder, Bill's order would go unfilled for two weeks until the Schwan's man came again.

Happily, no train was passing through, so I kept on pedaling, knowing my thigh muscles were gonna pay for this. Continuing along at a ridiculous pace for an enjoyable evening bike ride, my hopes were dimming, but, as in any other impossible quest, I reasoned that to give up and slow down after such a supreme effort would be pretty dumb.

So, continuing to push those pedals harder than ever before, I rounded the corner on to South Center Valley Road and flew over newly created mud puddles from yesterday's rain. Arriving at the driveway, I saw no Schwan's truck. Moreover, there were no new wide tire tracks.

Still hope, I thought. Maybe he does go on down Selle Road and doubles back to do our delivery. Nonetheless, to be sure, I called my sisters, who live at the end of the route, and asked them to please tell him to come back to the Lovestead if I had missed him.

I put Lily in her barnyard, rounded up cats and started pickling those green beans. Soon, a welcome sight rolled into the driveway. Cool as a cucumber, I greeted the Schwan's manager who was standing in for the regular driver and gave him the order----but not before scaring the bejeebers out of him by saying, "Ya know, you almost killed me tonight. I was the lady riding the bicycle."

I let his mouth hang open as I told him my saga and that he nearly killed me because I had become a crazy, hell-bent-for-leather woman on that bicycle, knowing my husband would be so disappointed to go two weeks without his Schwan's goodies. When I finished my story, he informed me Schwan's deliverers will leave their cell phone numbers so we can call 'em in such situations. I'm glad to know that for future senior moments involving deer counting adventures on a bicycle.

So, all turned out well last night. Bill has his Schwan's products, I counted 53 deer, I got some extra "extreme" aerobic exercise and have not yet died from over-exertion.

That's all, folks

I've used the headline up above twice now. Can't think if the first time had anything to do with garden demise, but this morning's sure does. We suffered a handicapping, if not, killing frost last night. It usually takes a few hours for those stems to transform from being kinda pretty with their crystalline coating to looking downright droopy and pathetic. I'm sure by 10 a.m. today I'll know the full extent of my garden carnage.

There's hope for the north garden, oddly enough. It's surrounded by apple trees and Stan Meserve's 58-year-old spruce trees. There's a possibility that the trees provided enough shelter in the night to keep out the severe cold. And, that's a good thing because that garden has the best tomatoes, corn and beans.

And, the cantaloupe.

I have an exciting cantaloupe update. Dr. Neuder told me a while back not to eat my garden-grown cantaloupe until the fruit separated itself from the vine with little or no effort. The night before last I went to cover the four little melons with plastic bags and noticed that the one which has been turning yellow had separated itself from the vine. Seemed like good enough evidence to take it inside and cut into it.

I could hardly contain my excitement as I carried an armload of pink tomatoes along with the melon. This was going to be monumental, I thought, remembering that just weeks ago I could not even fathom the thought of a cantaloupe in my garden making it to maturity, let alone ripeness. This melon wasn't totally yellow, but it had separated from is umbilical cord by choice rather than by pluck.

Once in the house, I lined the garden window with tomatoes of various sizes and shades, about 20 of them, including one giant that made that little cantaloupe look like a babe in arms. I washed my hands, as if a ceremonious moment were about to unfold. Well, it was ceremonious, by golly. My first cantaloupe!

Taking a butcher knife from the drawer, I carefully placed it in the middle of the melon and gently pushed downward. Again, the ease with which the knife descended spelled good news ahead. The melon fell apart, and juice flowed from the seed cavern.

Scooping the seeds from one half, I then sliced off about one sixth of the melon---enough for two moderate bites---two heavenly bites, they turned out to be. I'd never grown a melon. Furthermore, I'd never eaten cantaloupe fresh from a North Idaho garden. This was a moment to mark on the mental calendar.

Bill was at a Society of American Foresters meeting, and the dogs, which had accompanied me to the garden, wouldn't be too impressed if I told them just how good that melon tasted, so I had to share with someone who cared. I wrapped the unsliced half in cellophane, put it in the refrigerator, wrapped the remainder of the sampled half and headed for Mother's. Kiwi came along and kept her nose out of the melon.

Barbara was walking up to Mother's house after finishing a riding lesson down at the arena. I kept the melon cradled in my hands so she couldn't see. We walked into Mother's kitchen, where the unveiling took place. With her characteristic honesty, Mother commented that it sure was small. After my offer to cut it in half so both could sample, Barbara deferred to Mother and said she could have it all.

Mother took two bites, said she loved it and saved the rest for yesterday's breakfast. I don't think Mother or Barbara were nearly as euphoric as I, but, at least, they served as witnesses to a garden event that ranks right up there on my less-than-stellar plant-growing resume. Bill ate his half yesterday morning and agreed that it sure was good melon.

And, to think there were three more melons ripening in the garden, or were there? I was gone most of the day yesterday with hair zapping and interviewing, so I went to the garden in the late afternoon, anxious to see if another melon was taking on that telltale yellow hue. Only two cantaloupes greeted me.

"Who stole a melon?" I said out loud. I looked for human tracks and found none. Only the hoof prints of that deer that had the decency to turn around at the garden gate a few days ago gave clue of anything other than my entrance to the garden. I looked all over among the beans, corn and squash plants. No melon.

Then, I looked toward the lawn. There it was, and from my vantage I could see the tiny teeth holes where some culprit, probably of the canine variety, had snatched the melon from its womb, carried it from the garden, and, like the deer, thought twice about chewing a big hole into it, much like they had done to the cucumber a week ago.

I guess the dogs were impressed after all.

So, now, the melon with its pin-prick wounds sits atop the freezer in the garage, and I'm hoping it will ripen on its own. In the meantime, my garden sits this morning facing its mortality. I really hope some is still salvageable, but if not, the year has been the most bountiful ever for my gardening efforts, so I am pleased. If all works well, we'll still have one more mini melon for doling out mouth-watering samples of a great growing accomplishment at the Lovestead.

And, next year, I know I'm gonna plant a whole lot more melons cuz now I know it CAN be done.