My dad always loved to send folks off with his one liners. Two of his favorites were "Don't take any wooden nickels" and "Don't stick any beans up your nose." In fact, the latter was one of the last things he ever heard in that Sacred Heart hospital room when his grandson took up the baton, offering him that nugget of advice.
Well, taking a chapter from Harold, I'd like to alter his wisdom for one day. DO take those wooden nickels----and yo-yo's and pencils----from Gene Wilson during tomorrow's Christmas arts and crafts fair at the Bonner County Fairgrounds (beginning at 10 a.m.). I really don't know if Gene has any wooden nickels, but I do know from his sister-in-law Dr. Cherise Neu that he'll be happy to sell his wood crafts.
Gene is completely blind. He's a husband and dad. His wife is Kim Neu, daughter of Larry and Colleen, brother to Chris and Cherise----and granddaughter to Schweitzer Sam Wormington. After living in Nevada, Gene and Kim moved up to this area a while back, hoping to make their home here. He has started his wood crafting business, in hopes of guaranteeing a good life for his family in North Idaho.
Cherise told me that Gene and Kim will be easy to spot at tomorrow's craft show; they'll be the table with the guide dogs. Once you find your way there, they'll be happy to tell you about Gene's crafts.
Now, I also said something about beans and noses. Well, it's okay if you DO stick beans up your nose tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring my camera along to document the sight.
The best place to find those nose beans is Community Hall Saturday from 1-3 p.m., when my friend Bootsie aka Boots Reynolds unveils his long-awaited coffee table book to the public. While you're listening to lies from Boots, you can be dining on recipes from his Boots and Beans, cuz they're gonna be available there at the center.
Now, because I'm so decent and civilized, I'm not gonna say anything about tootin' down there at the hall because that's downright disgusting. Besides, there should be a crowd to drown out the noise. Get my drift?
Anyway, Boots has been working on this bean project for a long, long time, and I'm thrilled for him----especially after seeing the book at the Yoke's parking lot this week. It's a beautiful book, to say the least. Boots and Beans has been published by Keokee Books right here in Sandpoint, Idaho. Check (www.keokeebooks.com) for more information.
Tomorrow ought to be a fun day for Christmas shopping in Sandpoint, and I'm hoping a lot of you out there will include that wood and those beans on your list of stocking stuffers for this year. See ya there.
Just don't try to pay for anything with wooden nickels, and if you do stick beans up your nose at Community Hall, alert me first so I can take a picture and post it on the blog!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Weary electorate: ABH
My political mantra for the seemingly never-ending Presidential race is ABH. Most who read my blogs would probably eventually figure out that I mean ANYTHING BUT HILLARY. Polarizing isn't a strong enough word for the woman. I personally see her as a stiff Ice Woman whose mantra probably is ATGE: Anything To Get Elected.
I remember when the seed was first planted so publicly for Hillary. It was several years on a Dan Rather CBS News broadcast when he "lightly" suggested that she should run for the Senate. That was when I really began losing respect for Dan Rather as a journalist. Oh, he could spit out the colorful metaphors about as well as sportscaster Keith Jackson, but he had no business planting political seeds on his nightly broadcast.
Well, the ball got rolling, and because Hillary was married to the Champion of Indiscreet and Flaunter of Disrespect, she apparently possessed the divine right to be President of the United States. She's been running ever since Bill left office, apparently cuz they liked co-existing and socializing in the White House so much.
I have tried really hard to find a reason to like Hillary. Naturally, because I'm a woman, I'm supposed to like her because we're all supposed to be happy that a woman could finally be elected President of the United States. Well, there are several million of us out there, and I believe there could possibly be one other woman who might fit the bill (no pun intended) better than Hillary.
Yesterday, I received a call from the Idaho Chairman for the Obama for President campaign. He's a very nice guy from Boise---a retired Presbyterian minister. He told me he had been involved in the civil rights movement a few decades ago. He also believes that Barack Obama could lure a few of Idaho's Republicans. I tend to agree with him.
I told him also that if he ever got a chance to pass along a message to Obama, mine would be to stay away from the Hillary bandwagon, should she win the Democratic nomination. For Obama to play the usual politics and sidle up to Hillary would disappoint me greatly.
I think he does offer a breath of fresh air, and that's what America needs after the past 15 years of nothing but nastiness. We don't need any more doses of syrupy, sincere Bill melting women's hearts, and doing whatever else he does in the back rooms of the White House, or maybe even the Oval Office---while that cold, cold wife of his basks in her long-awaited dream of almighty power.
In my mind, Hillary is and always has been all about Hillary. I doubt she could care less about the American people's wishes or needs, except for right now, of course, when her wishes and needs demand their votes. A lot of other women in politics have done a lot more for their constituents than Hillary On the Democratic side, for example, I can name Sen. Diane Feinstein of California. She's powerful but palatable. She's a proven effective and sensible leader.
On the Republican side in this 2008 election, I'm still looking at the Presidential candidates, trying to decide which one might be my choice. I do really like this election for one reason; we finally have an opportunity in either party to effect a fresh outlook and to rid ourselves of the weariness we've felt toward the political system for far too many years.
To those Hillary supporters out there, please accept my apologies if I seem too judgmental toward this candidate. The feeling, however, has never changed in all the years I've watched her cold, calculating demeanor in the public limelight----confirmed all the more in the past two weeks as she has claimed so arrogantly that "I'm going to win . . . they're attacking me not because I'm a woman but because I'm ahead . . . I don't even consider the possibility of my losing . . . . "
Nice to be confident, but what happened to even a touch of humility? ABH! ABH! ABH!
I remember when the seed was first planted so publicly for Hillary. It was several years on a Dan Rather CBS News broadcast when he "lightly" suggested that she should run for the Senate. That was when I really began losing respect for Dan Rather as a journalist. Oh, he could spit out the colorful metaphors about as well as sportscaster Keith Jackson, but he had no business planting political seeds on his nightly broadcast.
Well, the ball got rolling, and because Hillary was married to the Champion of Indiscreet and Flaunter of Disrespect, she apparently possessed the divine right to be President of the United States. She's been running ever since Bill left office, apparently cuz they liked co-existing and socializing in the White House so much.
I have tried really hard to find a reason to like Hillary. Naturally, because I'm a woman, I'm supposed to like her because we're all supposed to be happy that a woman could finally be elected President of the United States. Well, there are several million of us out there, and I believe there could possibly be one other woman who might fit the bill (no pun intended) better than Hillary.
Yesterday, I received a call from the Idaho Chairman for the Obama for President campaign. He's a very nice guy from Boise---a retired Presbyterian minister. He told me he had been involved in the civil rights movement a few decades ago. He also believes that Barack Obama could lure a few of Idaho's Republicans. I tend to agree with him.
I told him also that if he ever got a chance to pass along a message to Obama, mine would be to stay away from the Hillary bandwagon, should she win the Democratic nomination. For Obama to play the usual politics and sidle up to Hillary would disappoint me greatly.
I think he does offer a breath of fresh air, and that's what America needs after the past 15 years of nothing but nastiness. We don't need any more doses of syrupy, sincere Bill melting women's hearts, and doing whatever else he does in the back rooms of the White House, or maybe even the Oval Office---while that cold, cold wife of his basks in her long-awaited dream of almighty power.
In my mind, Hillary is and always has been all about Hillary. I doubt she could care less about the American people's wishes or needs, except for right now, of course, when her wishes and needs demand their votes. A lot of other women in politics have done a lot more for their constituents than Hillary On the Democratic side, for example, I can name Sen. Diane Feinstein of California. She's powerful but palatable. She's a proven effective and sensible leader.
On the Republican side in this 2008 election, I'm still looking at the Presidential candidates, trying to decide which one might be my choice. I do really like this election for one reason; we finally have an opportunity in either party to effect a fresh outlook and to rid ourselves of the weariness we've felt toward the political system for far too many years.
To those Hillary supporters out there, please accept my apologies if I seem too judgmental toward this candidate. The feeling, however, has never changed in all the years I've watched her cold, calculating demeanor in the public limelight----confirmed all the more in the past two weeks as she has claimed so arrogantly that "I'm going to win . . . they're attacking me not because I'm a woman but because I'm ahead . . . I don't even consider the possibility of my losing . . . . "
Nice to be confident, but what happened to even a touch of humility? ABH! ABH! ABH!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The "firsts" of life
Too bad we don't have Instant Replay for our first-time life events. I don't remember my first step nor the first time I said a word. There have been so many of both ever since that I'm sure they were briefly-enjoyed monumental events to whoever witnessed them. I'm also sure that once I got started, those folks wished the process would have reverted to "slow motion" rather than "fast forward."
I do remember the first time I ever saw a pregnant woman. It was in Spokane. I was maybe 5. For a while, I thought something had to be really wrong with that lady and that such sights must be a part of the big city.
I also remember the first time my son ever saw a Black man. It was in the Japanese gardens in Portland. Willie was about 3. So, when he saw the Black man jog by, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Later he said something about that Japanese man because, of course, we were in the Japanese gardens.
When you get to be 60, the firsts seem to come far and few between, but even with our senior memory, we tend to remember them better than we do the day we took our first step. I had a first on Sunday when I attended Brandon's homecoming party. While driving home afterward, I realized that the parade and the stirring church ceremony represented the first time I had ever welcomed home a wounded veteran.
There was much about it that made the event very special and memorable to me. Ever since learning that Brandon had been injured, I've returned to the image of that boyish face on the cute kid who sat over by the wall in fifth-period junior English. Brandon probably looked about 12 at the time. He was fun, just like all his other classmates, and when I left teaching, I left on a happy note, saying good bye to all my zany students in that class.
So, to see Brandon coming home after such a traumatic event in his life and in his family's and in all of ours who knew him and loved his happy-go-lucky charm and to see him roll that wheelchair up to the front behind the honor guard, and to watch him park it next to his family, and to hear him quip, "I'd stand but . . . ."------that was a moment to remember. It was a first for me, and I'd hope a last. But we all are realistic, and hope sometimes doesn't fall into place the way we wish.
I can't remember too many recent firsts, but I witnessed a few for others overnight. I wished for Instant Replay or maybe a doggie scribe and horsie scribe who could interview some young pets I know and ask 'em how it was for them to experience their first taste and feel of snow.
Just after telling my friend Mow last night that we were supposed to have snow by 7 p.m., I walked to the sliding glass door and discovered an early arrival. It was about 6:30, and the ground I'd been raking two hours before was white. I was glad that I thought to put those snow shovels out in easy-to-find places, cuz it was coming down fast.
I figured the puppies needed to check out the snow. So, out we went, and across the lawn they raced, stopping every few seconds to lick it up. Didn't take those little guys long to learn that you can eat snow and that you can play really hard in it. It has taken them a little longer, however, to learn that you can pee and poop in snow. We learned that this morning after Bill took them out to do their business. Their "business" went on hold until they returned to the house.
Well, since then, they've had another trip through the snow to the barn. It's about six inches deep, and it was pretty fun for them to leap their way through unbroken white deposits. While they played in their box stall in the barn, I gave the horses their breakfast.
Lily turned wide-eyed when she first noticed the white stuff outside, but she IS a veteran after arriving here in December last year from Oklahoma. Eating grass one day, slipping on the ice the next---and that's what Lily did for the rest of the winter, so she knows snow.
I know snow too, but I've known it so long that I didn't even think about little Lefty's introduction. It didn't take long, though. When we reached the barn door, I felt a little tug backward on the lead rope and quickly realized this moment was another first for him.
This little guy didn't know what to think about all that powdery stuff piled up outside his barn. He was even a bit reluctant to step in it, but eventually, knowing that a grain bucket awaited him at the fence, he took a cautious route to the barnyard. If only he could talk, I thought. We'd have a great story.
One thing about new powdery snow and frisky horses is the free performance of beauty that follows that initial reaction. In my mind, there's nothing prettier than horses racing through powdery snow with a brisk winter wind blowing their manes and tails. That was a first for the Winter of 2007, and I've set the Instant Replay button in my mind to savor that sight throughout the day and to record similar sights for weeks to come.
In the meantime, I've got to get outside there and shovel. Believe me, that chore is definitely not a first for anyone who lives in North Idaho. Happy Snow, and welcome to Winter.
I do remember the first time I ever saw a pregnant woman. It was in Spokane. I was maybe 5. For a while, I thought something had to be really wrong with that lady and that such sights must be a part of the big city.
I also remember the first time my son ever saw a Black man. It was in the Japanese gardens in Portland. Willie was about 3. So, when he saw the Black man jog by, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared. Later he said something about that Japanese man because, of course, we were in the Japanese gardens.
When you get to be 60, the firsts seem to come far and few between, but even with our senior memory, we tend to remember them better than we do the day we took our first step. I had a first on Sunday when I attended Brandon's homecoming party. While driving home afterward, I realized that the parade and the stirring church ceremony represented the first time I had ever welcomed home a wounded veteran.
There was much about it that made the event very special and memorable to me. Ever since learning that Brandon had been injured, I've returned to the image of that boyish face on the cute kid who sat over by the wall in fifth-period junior English. Brandon probably looked about 12 at the time. He was fun, just like all his other classmates, and when I left teaching, I left on a happy note, saying good bye to all my zany students in that class.
So, to see Brandon coming home after such a traumatic event in his life and in his family's and in all of ours who knew him and loved his happy-go-lucky charm and to see him roll that wheelchair up to the front behind the honor guard, and to watch him park it next to his family, and to hear him quip, "I'd stand but . . . ."------that was a moment to remember. It was a first for me, and I'd hope a last. But we all are realistic, and hope sometimes doesn't fall into place the way we wish.
I can't remember too many recent firsts, but I witnessed a few for others overnight. I wished for Instant Replay or maybe a doggie scribe and horsie scribe who could interview some young pets I know and ask 'em how it was for them to experience their first taste and feel of snow.
Just after telling my friend Mow last night that we were supposed to have snow by 7 p.m., I walked to the sliding glass door and discovered an early arrival. It was about 6:30, and the ground I'd been raking two hours before was white. I was glad that I thought to put those snow shovels out in easy-to-find places, cuz it was coming down fast.
I figured the puppies needed to check out the snow. So, out we went, and across the lawn they raced, stopping every few seconds to lick it up. Didn't take those little guys long to learn that you can eat snow and that you can play really hard in it. It has taken them a little longer, however, to learn that you can pee and poop in snow. We learned that this morning after Bill took them out to do their business. Their "business" went on hold until they returned to the house.
Well, since then, they've had another trip through the snow to the barn. It's about six inches deep, and it was pretty fun for them to leap their way through unbroken white deposits. While they played in their box stall in the barn, I gave the horses their breakfast.
Lily turned wide-eyed when she first noticed the white stuff outside, but she IS a veteran after arriving here in December last year from Oklahoma. Eating grass one day, slipping on the ice the next---and that's what Lily did for the rest of the winter, so she knows snow.
I know snow too, but I've known it so long that I didn't even think about little Lefty's introduction. It didn't take long, though. When we reached the barn door, I felt a little tug backward on the lead rope and quickly realized this moment was another first for him.
This little guy didn't know what to think about all that powdery stuff piled up outside his barn. He was even a bit reluctant to step in it, but eventually, knowing that a grain bucket awaited him at the fence, he took a cautious route to the barnyard. If only he could talk, I thought. We'd have a great story.
One thing about new powdery snow and frisky horses is the free performance of beauty that follows that initial reaction. In my mind, there's nothing prettier than horses racing through powdery snow with a brisk winter wind blowing their manes and tails. That was a first for the Winter of 2007, and I've set the Instant Replay button in my mind to savor that sight throughout the day and to record similar sights for weeks to come.
In the meantime, I've got to get outside there and shovel. Believe me, that chore is definitely not a first for anyone who lives in North Idaho. Happy Snow, and welcome to Winter.
Monday, November 26, 2007
A Sandpoint welcome for a wounded Iraq war veteran
Sandpoint community leader Marsha Ogilvie got the ball rolling by sending out an email with a plan. It took off from there. People brought balloons and flags. Others supplied refreshments. Emergency response personnel provided plenty of noise and color while escorting Sgt. Brandon Adam across Lake Pend Oreille's Long Bridge and through downtown Sandpoint to the Assembly of God Church.
Yesterday's welcome-home ceremony for Brandon, who lost both legs above the knee in a roadside bombing last May in Baghdad, was vintage Sandpoint as hundreds lined the streets and gathered inside the church to wipe away tears while listening to stirring sounds of the Albeni Pipe and Drum Corps.
A very special song written for the soldier by his sister, Tricia Small, and accompanied by a power point presentation of Brandon's recovery, including his recent meeting with the President, climaxed the formal program.
Then, the hand-shaking and the hugging began as young and old, friends, family, fellow veterans and perfect strangers all focused on the gratitude of seeing the Sandpoint soldier return home---wounded but strong in spirit and big in warmth.
Welcome home and thank you, Brandon.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
When snow comes . . . .
I can see a snowline on the mountains out our west window this morning. It extends below the Schweitzer bowls, but it's got a ways to go before reaching the valley floor. I heard on the news last night that we can expect up to six inches of flakes to fall at our 2,200-foot level, beginning tomorrow afternoon.
In these parts, we spend the months of October and November getting ready for when snow comes: raking every possible leaf blown from the trees and transporting the piles off to be burned, putting away gardening and lawn tools, storing bicycles, chairs and tables, pulling dead plants and rearranging pasture assignments for horses.
The horses nibbled on their last grass in the hayfield a couple of days ago. Lily made that decision when she refused to let me catch her in her morning pasture. That refusal seemed like a good enough excuse to start the winter routine where, except for a brief time of separation in the morning so Lefty can eat his grain, the two blanketed horses will spend the winter days in the barnyard nibbling on piles of hay and winter nights feeding on grain and hay in their box stalls.
That means many more trips of hauling a lot more hay from the loafing shed to the barn. Two bales on the back of the 4-wheeler six days ago lasting several days has increased to five or six bales to last a week. We already have several bales of that high-grade alfalfa in the barn to mix in with the loafing shed bales.
Our homegrown crop of grass hay---though a bit dry and coarse from being harvested in dry, dry conditions---will last until about January. Then, Harvey will deliver the three tons of grass hay I bought from him a couple of months ago.
Yesterday, he delivered both grass and alfalfa to my sisters who have 11 mouths to feed at their farm. Harvey bought his alfalfa in big 3-string bales from the Columbia Basin---15 bales to the ton. He ran a bit short in his usual fields this year, so he had to buy to supply, but my sisters are happy with the quality of his delivery yesterday.
Speaking of hay, yesterday, I completed a very satisfying pre-winter project. We have decided to double the size of our hayfield next year. Next year Doug Stockdale will harvest from a larger field, which now includes the Ponderosa pasture. And, with yesterday's removal of another stretch of goat fencing string and metal posts, we can also take a straight shot with the four-wheeler across the field to get to the Lodgepole pasture. If we could be assured one more day of dry ground, I'd also take the tractor out there and brush hog that strip of tall grass running down the middle where the fence stood until yesterday.
Also, before the snow comes, I hope to rake a few more leaves from that flower bed next to the driveway and maybe even pick up that leaf blanket that fell from the big apple tree. I'd like to clean out some more dead plants. And, I've got to transport the big adirondack rocker and its little brother from the deck into the Quansit storage shed.
There'll be no more raking the kitty litter into the garden bed because it's now frozen solid, and I'll probably not pick any more carrots until spring. Last year I forgot about some I'd planted, and upon finding them in the spring, I finally discovered what I'd heard for so many years---that winter hibernation enhances carrot flavor tenfold. So, that's one good reason to appreciate a good blanket of snow.
We'll also appreciate the snow when it erases the drab, grayish-brown color of dead grass and leafless trees. The big white-cover up does have its advantages in the esthetics department, but it also means a lot more work---shoveling, plowing, gearing up to go outside and stay dry, mopping up snow water melting on floors, getting cars ready to roll down slick roads. It also severely limits the animals roaming territory. When the snow comes, our lives definitely change for several months.
For some folks along with the snow comes the ecstasy of a long-awaited ski season. For others, it means getting those snow shoes out for peaceful walks through the silent woods. For others like my mother, it means months of being cooped up inside, often depending on others for transport to town for groceries and filling prescriptions. My mother hates the snow, and I don't blame her.
There's not a lot we can do to stop the snow from falling, and, and conversely for the folks who love it, there's not a lot we can do to make it happen. I guess this is the time of the year when some folks turn happy while others start counting the days until the snow goes away and gets us out of all that work or just plain out of the house.
In these parts, we spend the months of October and November getting ready for when snow comes: raking every possible leaf blown from the trees and transporting the piles off to be burned, putting away gardening and lawn tools, storing bicycles, chairs and tables, pulling dead plants and rearranging pasture assignments for horses.
The horses nibbled on their last grass in the hayfield a couple of days ago. Lily made that decision when she refused to let me catch her in her morning pasture. That refusal seemed like a good enough excuse to start the winter routine where, except for a brief time of separation in the morning so Lefty can eat his grain, the two blanketed horses will spend the winter days in the barnyard nibbling on piles of hay and winter nights feeding on grain and hay in their box stalls.
That means many more trips of hauling a lot more hay from the loafing shed to the barn. Two bales on the back of the 4-wheeler six days ago lasting several days has increased to five or six bales to last a week. We already have several bales of that high-grade alfalfa in the barn to mix in with the loafing shed bales.
Our homegrown crop of grass hay---though a bit dry and coarse from being harvested in dry, dry conditions---will last until about January. Then, Harvey will deliver the three tons of grass hay I bought from him a couple of months ago.
Yesterday, he delivered both grass and alfalfa to my sisters who have 11 mouths to feed at their farm. Harvey bought his alfalfa in big 3-string bales from the Columbia Basin---15 bales to the ton. He ran a bit short in his usual fields this year, so he had to buy to supply, but my sisters are happy with the quality of his delivery yesterday.
Speaking of hay, yesterday, I completed a very satisfying pre-winter project. We have decided to double the size of our hayfield next year. Next year Doug Stockdale will harvest from a larger field, which now includes the Ponderosa pasture. And, with yesterday's removal of another stretch of goat fencing string and metal posts, we can also take a straight shot with the four-wheeler across the field to get to the Lodgepole pasture. If we could be assured one more day of dry ground, I'd also take the tractor out there and brush hog that strip of tall grass running down the middle where the fence stood until yesterday.
Also, before the snow comes, I hope to rake a few more leaves from that flower bed next to the driveway and maybe even pick up that leaf blanket that fell from the big apple tree. I'd like to clean out some more dead plants. And, I've got to transport the big adirondack rocker and its little brother from the deck into the Quansit storage shed.
There'll be no more raking the kitty litter into the garden bed because it's now frozen solid, and I'll probably not pick any more carrots until spring. Last year I forgot about some I'd planted, and upon finding them in the spring, I finally discovered what I'd heard for so many years---that winter hibernation enhances carrot flavor tenfold. So, that's one good reason to appreciate a good blanket of snow.
We'll also appreciate the snow when it erases the drab, grayish-brown color of dead grass and leafless trees. The big white-cover up does have its advantages in the esthetics department, but it also means a lot more work---shoveling, plowing, gearing up to go outside and stay dry, mopping up snow water melting on floors, getting cars ready to roll down slick roads. It also severely limits the animals roaming territory. When the snow comes, our lives definitely change for several months.
For some folks along with the snow comes the ecstasy of a long-awaited ski season. For others, it means getting those snow shoes out for peaceful walks through the silent woods. For others like my mother, it means months of being cooped up inside, often depending on others for transport to town for groceries and filling prescriptions. My mother hates the snow, and I don't blame her.
There's not a lot we can do to stop the snow from falling, and, and conversely for the folks who love it, there's not a lot we can do to make it happen. I guess this is the time of the year when some folks turn happy while others start counting the days until the snow goes away and gets us out of all that work or just plain out of the house.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Kea-speak
SHE's over there working at the computer while we're snoozing, but we know SHE's gonna tell the story the way we want it told. We've already dictated several segments to her and told her to get it right. So, when we wake up, we'll be checking to see that SHE hasn't used any puppy ASSumptions while telling our tales.
After all, we don't want people to get the wrong impression of us when she tells about all the details of our bowl movements, our bladder releases and alleged destruction inside her house. We'll take the heat for ripping that dryer hose apart, but if SHE says one more word about the two telephone cords we chewed, we're gonna protest.
What's a pup to do when the house is crawling with all this electronic gadgetry and all those cords are snarling up our puppy fun? These people have too many phones in their house anyway.
It's also hard enough dealing with those stinkin' leashes that wrap themselves around our legs, neck and bodies every time we go outside and just wanta take off for a good run across the fields. We even suffered a few near whiplashes back in the old days when she first attached them to our collars, but we're learning. Anyway, when we're loose, we figure that any linear obstacle that gets in our way has got to go, so we chew 'em up.
SHE sez we have to wear the leashes outside because SHE tells everyone about when my brother and sister Todd and Brooke and how they ran off in the woods that day and got lost. Of course, I (Kea) was smart enough that day to stay in the house.
I'll never forget all the bad words that kept coming out of HER mouth when we couldn't find Todd and Brooke. SHE carried me the whole way and finally they reappeared behind the neighbor's house about half a mile away from home. From that day forth, we've had to wear those leashes----all because of Todd and Brooke. They live far away in Boise now. Hope they're happy with what they got started for the rest of us.
Well, my brother Webster's kinda responsible for the leashes too. See, for a while we did get to go outside loose, one at a time, and run through the yard whenever SHE thought it was time for us to pee and poop. But, one morning that great big, red speckled horse Lily was out there in the pasture when Webster was doing his thing. Bill was watching my younger brother, while SHE and I were watching from the sliding glass door. Suddenly Webster high-tailed it for Lily's pasture.
I heard HER scream really loud at Bill----and spit out some more bad words---while Lily and Bill both pursued Webster from opposite directions. Lily was ahead when SHE just turned around with me in her arms, covered her eyes and screamed GAWD DAMMIT so loud my ears almost fell off. Then, she turned around again, and we saw Lily running and Bill grabbing ahold of Webster. I don't think Webster knows just how close he came that day, but I do know that we've had to wear leashes ever since.
We went visiting last night to HER sisters' house. We were pretty popular over there, especially with Pita, their blue heeler, who's just a year old than us and really big. Pita sniffed us from one end to another all night. It was like she is studying up for anatomy or something like that. She also let us play with her toys, and we also got to eat all the catfood in the kitchen. We were really good at the beginning of our visit, but as we felt more comfortable around Pita, we let her influence us into racing around the house.
That meant a real obstacle course with all those two-legged bodies taking up space in the living room playing BS. It was kinda hard to get underneath all those legs, so we did a lot of running around in the kitchen and dining room.
We even went into her sister Laurie's bathroom and found this stuff in a box on the floor next to the toilet. It was like sand, and it had little brown logs mixed in with the sand. We were just starting to have fun scooping out a few samples when Laurie found us, kicked us out and shut the door. I fixed her. I just peed on the carpet by the bathroom.
We also each left a few logs on their floor last night and heard Laurie and HER talking about getting even. I guess Pita came to our house one day last year and left two log decks in different places. Bill, the forester, should have been looking for log decks at the foot of the stairs when he stepped in one of them and squashed all the logs into the wooden floor. We heard that Laurie was real embarrassed that night, but she figures now that we've issued payback by laying some cable at her house.
We kinda like it here, especially when we get to go out to the barn, while SHE does stuff with those horses and their stalls. SHE ties us to the wall in the third box stall, and we get to play in the hay. If we're fast enough crawling between the boards before she brings the wheel barrow, we can even snatch one or two of Lefty's apples for our barn snacks. I can't figure out why she doesn't have those paper towels out there in the barn for all those horse plops. Instead, she uses a thing that looks like a rake, picks out the apples, throws them all in the wheel barrow and hauls them off.
I bet she's hoping she won't need to bring the wheel barrow to the house if we keep having our accidents. Come to think of it, I do kinda wonder why they're "accidents" for us, but they seem to be perfectly okay for Lily and Lefty when they're inside their barn. Those horses can poop and pee all they want, and nobody ever starts yelling and screaming and running and grabbing spray bottles and ripping off two miles of paper towels and going "Yuck." I've never once heard HER go "Yuck" out there in the barn when those horses have their bowel movements.
I think the horses might have it better around here than we do. At least, they seem to have more rights. And, that's what I'm gonna talk about the next time I make her sit down at the computer and type up my thoughts while I take a nap.
Seems like puppies don't have any rights at all. They yank everything out of our mouths, they yell at us every time we do what comes naturally and they even make us watch them eat and wait to lick the plate while they're stuffing their mouths with all that junk food.
We're gonna work on some reforms around this place, but for now, I guess it could be worse. We do get to stay inside the house and sleep on soft, warm beds while the big dogs get the couch in the garage. I can hear HER daughter downstairs now, so I guess I'd better get up and head down there and see if she made us any more chew toys.
Happy Saturday,
Kea
After all, we don't want people to get the wrong impression of us when she tells about all the details of our bowl movements, our bladder releases and alleged destruction inside her house. We'll take the heat for ripping that dryer hose apart, but if SHE says one more word about the two telephone cords we chewed, we're gonna protest.
What's a pup to do when the house is crawling with all this electronic gadgetry and all those cords are snarling up our puppy fun? These people have too many phones in their house anyway.
It's also hard enough dealing with those stinkin' leashes that wrap themselves around our legs, neck and bodies every time we go outside and just wanta take off for a good run across the fields. We even suffered a few near whiplashes back in the old days when she first attached them to our collars, but we're learning. Anyway, when we're loose, we figure that any linear obstacle that gets in our way has got to go, so we chew 'em up.
SHE sez we have to wear the leashes outside because SHE tells everyone about when my brother and sister Todd and Brooke and how they ran off in the woods that day and got lost. Of course, I (Kea) was smart enough that day to stay in the house.
I'll never forget all the bad words that kept coming out of HER mouth when we couldn't find Todd and Brooke. SHE carried me the whole way and finally they reappeared behind the neighbor's house about half a mile away from home. From that day forth, we've had to wear those leashes----all because of Todd and Brooke. They live far away in Boise now. Hope they're happy with what they got started for the rest of us.
Well, my brother Webster's kinda responsible for the leashes too. See, for a while we did get to go outside loose, one at a time, and run through the yard whenever SHE thought it was time for us to pee and poop. But, one morning that great big, red speckled horse Lily was out there in the pasture when Webster was doing his thing. Bill was watching my younger brother, while SHE and I were watching from the sliding glass door. Suddenly Webster high-tailed it for Lily's pasture.
I heard HER scream really loud at Bill----and spit out some more bad words---while Lily and Bill both pursued Webster from opposite directions. Lily was ahead when SHE just turned around with me in her arms, covered her eyes and screamed GAWD DAMMIT so loud my ears almost fell off. Then, she turned around again, and we saw Lily running and Bill grabbing ahold of Webster. I don't think Webster knows just how close he came that day, but I do know that we've had to wear leashes ever since.
We went visiting last night to HER sisters' house. We were pretty popular over there, especially with Pita, their blue heeler, who's just a year old than us and really big. Pita sniffed us from one end to another all night. It was like she is studying up for anatomy or something like that. She also let us play with her toys, and we also got to eat all the catfood in the kitchen. We were really good at the beginning of our visit, but as we felt more comfortable around Pita, we let her influence us into racing around the house.
That meant a real obstacle course with all those two-legged bodies taking up space in the living room playing BS. It was kinda hard to get underneath all those legs, so we did a lot of running around in the kitchen and dining room.
We even went into her sister Laurie's bathroom and found this stuff in a box on the floor next to the toilet. It was like sand, and it had little brown logs mixed in with the sand. We were just starting to have fun scooping out a few samples when Laurie found us, kicked us out and shut the door. I fixed her. I just peed on the carpet by the bathroom.
We also each left a few logs on their floor last night and heard Laurie and HER talking about getting even. I guess Pita came to our house one day last year and left two log decks in different places. Bill, the forester, should have been looking for log decks at the foot of the stairs when he stepped in one of them and squashed all the logs into the wooden floor. We heard that Laurie was real embarrassed that night, but she figures now that we've issued payback by laying some cable at her house.
We kinda like it here, especially when we get to go out to the barn, while SHE does stuff with those horses and their stalls. SHE ties us to the wall in the third box stall, and we get to play in the hay. If we're fast enough crawling between the boards before she brings the wheel barrow, we can even snatch one or two of Lefty's apples for our barn snacks. I can't figure out why she doesn't have those paper towels out there in the barn for all those horse plops. Instead, she uses a thing that looks like a rake, picks out the apples, throws them all in the wheel barrow and hauls them off.
I bet she's hoping she won't need to bring the wheel barrow to the house if we keep having our accidents. Come to think of it, I do kinda wonder why they're "accidents" for us, but they seem to be perfectly okay for Lily and Lefty when they're inside their barn. Those horses can poop and pee all they want, and nobody ever starts yelling and screaming and running and grabbing spray bottles and ripping off two miles of paper towels and going "Yuck." I've never once heard HER go "Yuck" out there in the barn when those horses have their bowel movements.
I think the horses might have it better around here than we do. At least, they seem to have more rights. And, that's what I'm gonna talk about the next time I make her sit down at the computer and type up my thoughts while I take a nap.
Seems like puppies don't have any rights at all. They yank everything out of our mouths, they yell at us every time we do what comes naturally and they even make us watch them eat and wait to lick the plate while they're stuffing their mouths with all that junk food.
We're gonna work on some reforms around this place, but for now, I guess it could be worse. We do get to stay inside the house and sleep on soft, warm beds while the big dogs get the couch in the garage. I can hear HER daughter downstairs now, so I guess I'd better get up and head down there and see if she made us any more chew toys.
Happy Saturday,
Kea
Friday, November 23, 2007
32 more shopping days to poverty
I can remember getting the paychecks before Christmas and sighing. If we left for vacation on Dec. 16, that meant our paychecks had to last for nearly six weeks with the most expensive time of the year landing in between. A few years into my teaching career, some district administrator came up with the novel idea to split the pain by giving us checks two months in a row five weeks apart rather than expecting us to try to survive over one six-week pay period.
I don't think it really mattered much---we were broke, and it seemed like a long time before we'd ever catch up with aftermath of the Christmas spending spree. Each year as I grow older, my sense of the Christmas season becomes more cynical. Each year when faced with the spending barrage ahead, we come up with similar thoughts to build upon what we thought during the last ---that the Christmas celebration has become so far removed from its original intent. So far removed, in fact, that we've had to give it a new name---the holiday season.
I still think that's too far off base. We all know that for the general population this season is all about money and unloading a bunch of people's pockets so another bunch of people's pockets will get their proper nourishment. So, why don't we just get real and call it Black-and-Red Month instead of just "Black Friday," as the bean-counting public relations specialists have named this Friday after Thanksgiving.
When the season is all over, a certain portion of the population will be in the "black," while an inordinate segment of us will be in the "red," for who knows how long. Who has time for "peace on earth" and "joy to the world," when we know January is gonna roll around and begin the monthly reminders of what we did to ourselves in December. We're gonna have to spend all our time figuring out how to pay for all that stuff in time to start the process all over again next time "Black Friday," rolls around.
We, as a society, allow ourselves to be sucked in by continuous reminders, through virtually every media known to man, that certain materialistic stuff is required during the Christmas season---all in the name of honoring the Prince of Peace (when, in reality, it's honoring someone else's pocketbook). If we don't stuff that stocking to the brim or run up all those plastic cards to the max, buying gifts we can't afford, Jesus' birthday party is gonna be a big disappointment.
Where did I get the idea that Jesus and his Dad could probably care less about the materialistic overkill his birthday has turned out to be. I have a hunch that the father-son combo would be a lot more pleased with all of us mortals if we'd spend less time spending and more time appreciating our earth and the people and creatures who populate it.
I also have a feeling that in preparation for Jesus' birthday if we'd all concentrate more on the basics---like treating people and the earth with respect---our Prince of Peace and His Dad would maybe figure that's the best gift of all.
And, it doesn't have to cost an arm and a leg for that to happen. Maybe we could work on a paradigm shift during this 32 days before poverty, gradually altering them into 32 days of kindness, thoughtfulness, and generous giving of ourselves rather than all the stuff we give with help from plastic cards.
Easier said than done but definitely something we can work on. And a whole lot cheaper.
All good thoughts, but I can't think them any more cuz I've gotta go to the store.
I don't think it really mattered much---we were broke, and it seemed like a long time before we'd ever catch up with aftermath of the Christmas spending spree. Each year as I grow older, my sense of the Christmas season becomes more cynical. Each year when faced with the spending barrage ahead, we come up with similar thoughts to build upon what we thought during the last ---that the Christmas celebration has become so far removed from its original intent. So far removed, in fact, that we've had to give it a new name---the holiday season.
I still think that's too far off base. We all know that for the general population this season is all about money and unloading a bunch of people's pockets so another bunch of people's pockets will get their proper nourishment. So, why don't we just get real and call it Black-and-Red Month instead of just "Black Friday," as the bean-counting public relations specialists have named this Friday after Thanksgiving.
When the season is all over, a certain portion of the population will be in the "black," while an inordinate segment of us will be in the "red," for who knows how long. Who has time for "peace on earth" and "joy to the world," when we know January is gonna roll around and begin the monthly reminders of what we did to ourselves in December. We're gonna have to spend all our time figuring out how to pay for all that stuff in time to start the process all over again next time "Black Friday," rolls around.
We, as a society, allow ourselves to be sucked in by continuous reminders, through virtually every media known to man, that certain materialistic stuff is required during the Christmas season---all in the name of honoring the Prince of Peace (when, in reality, it's honoring someone else's pocketbook). If we don't stuff that stocking to the brim or run up all those plastic cards to the max, buying gifts we can't afford, Jesus' birthday party is gonna be a big disappointment.
Where did I get the idea that Jesus and his Dad could probably care less about the materialistic overkill his birthday has turned out to be. I have a hunch that the father-son combo would be a lot more pleased with all of us mortals if we'd spend less time spending and more time appreciating our earth and the people and creatures who populate it.
I also have a feeling that in preparation for Jesus' birthday if we'd all concentrate more on the basics---like treating people and the earth with respect---our Prince of Peace and His Dad would maybe figure that's the best gift of all.
And, it doesn't have to cost an arm and a leg for that to happen. Maybe we could work on a paradigm shift during this 32 days before poverty, gradually altering them into 32 days of kindness, thoughtfulness, and generous giving of ourselves rather than all the stuff we give with help from plastic cards.
Easier said than done but definitely something we can work on. And a whole lot cheaper.
All good thoughts, but I can't think them any more cuz I've gotta go to the store.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving
We are blessed this morning with a beautiful, cold, crisp Thanksgiving day. I remember lots of snow last year. And, I'll never forget the exact moment, when I was about to spoon the stuffing inside our Thanksgiving turkey, hearing Willie yell from the living room, "TURKEYS, come look!" Sure enough a group of turkeys were walking across the front yard. I still didn't feel guilty about my stuffing, though, and after watching the live birds head on their way, I went back to work.
This year, Willie and Debbie are in Boise. Annie is here, though, and we'll all never forget just how she arrived here this year. I'll post photos later, after she gets up and I can use my laptop. We had to document yesterday's events because they represented once-in-a-lifetime experiences for all of us.
Quest Aircraft Co. called last week and said they'd like to take Bill and me for our ride in the Kodiak, their new plane which is starting to take off from the manufacturing plant near our former home. Soon, the first two Kodiaks will be delivered. We rode in one of them yesterday. That was part of an agreement when we sold our place to Quest for its eventual expansion.
As a bit of a lark, while coming up with an agreement for our land sale to Quest last year, I told CEO Paul Schaller we wanted one contingency along with money, of course----a ride in the Kodiak. Paul happily wrote it into the contract, and since then, we've all been so busy, the promised ride did not happen until yesterday. But yesterday wasn't just any ol' plane ride.
When, Steve Zaat contacted me last week, I told him that Monday and Tuesday would be the only days available because we had to go pick up Annie at Spokane Airport on Wednesday. Steve immediately wrote back and suggested that Quest go pick up Annie with the Kodiak. He also told us we could bring two other passengers.
So, we asked Mother, who served as a Rosie the Riveter draftsman on bombers at Kellogg Field in Battle Creek Mich., during World War II. We also asked our very appreciated and GOOD NEIGHBOR Jim Vanicek, who's a pilot and an aviation buff. The plan called for us to drive to Quest and board the Kodiak, an hour or so before Annie's flight was due in to Spokane from Seattle.
The only other logistical consideration worked out rather well: how would Annie get from Spokane Airport to the Kodiak parking spot at another air service at the huge airport complex? Steve worked that out quickly. A white stretch limousine owned by the air service would pick her up and bring her directly to the plane. Not a bad taxi.
And, it all worked like clockwork---gorgeous day for flying, an informative tour through the Quest manufacturing plant, visits with several of the wonderful Quest employees, including Steve, Paul Schaller, Pam, the receptionist, Eric, the mechanic; and Kenny, the Kodiak pilot. All treated us like we were something special, and we thought they were something special in return.
The plane is awesome, to say the least. The flights both ways were memorable with a phenomenal sunset, spectacular views of the gorgeous North Idaho and Eastern Washington country from above, capped off with a shocking realization from vast sea of night lights that the Sandpoint area sure has grown since the days when we grew up on our farm at the end of the Sandpoint runway. We all loved every minute of the experience as the photos below show.
In the meantime, we're thankful to Quest for creating this very special memory for each of us. And, as always, we're thankful to family, friends and all on this earth and above who make each day special. Happy Thanksgiving.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)