Snow shows

Well, this has been a mighty slow computer connection this morning. Could be the Internet's getting weighted down from the snow. Anyway, the saga continues. I took this picture of our front deck yesterday. I'm sure the scene has changed dramatically this morning because we've had about a foot of new snow overnight.

I know that because I had to shovel that much away from the barn door, which would not close all the way last night and which caused me to voice some rather loud G-dammits into the night air as I kept chipping away at the ice which continues to insist upon rising up every day.

Yeah, that was a long sentence, but we've received a long sentence of winter demise this year. As noted below, our storage shed roof gave up all hopes of hanging up on the west end for the remainder of the winter.

I got the tractor stuck in the lane last night----twice and uttered some more of those G-dammits as I dug and dug in the snow only to have more snow avalanche on top of what I had just removed. When I had gotten the tractor almost unstuck the second time, Bill came out and asked, "Is it stuck?"

I asked him if it had been snowing lately and then tried to maneuver it those two inches to freedom, to which he said, "Wait a second," to which I said, "Okay, I'll wait a second. I'll wait an hour," after which I dragged my wet, sweaty body off the tractor and hurled a few more G-dammits his way as I stomped to the house resolving that I was damn sick and tired of winter.

After changing into dry clothes and sipping on a glass of wine, I checked my email. There was a note from Susie Puckett who told me about a family member who had visited the Dufort Mall and heard the story of the couple who had come and dumped a lot of their high-end items in the "free" pile at the dumpsters as they were leaving Sandpoint never to return again, thanks to the winter.

Apparently, these folks had had enough and they needed to remove all reminders of their stay in "God's Country." I won't say publicly what happened to those items, but do remember it's the Dufort Mall, and we all know about the brisk commerce that goes on at the malls, especially those with "free piles" in the rural areas.

Bill has driven----I think----to Coeur d'Alene today. I don't know if he made it or not, and I don't know if he did make it, if he will make it home tonight. I'm thinking about staying off from the tractor today because I hurled enough profanities last night to drive all the neighbors away, but the one thing is they probably can't get out this morning.

I have seen the snow plows go by and a few cars but no school buses. So, I'm guessing my sisters are over there at Colburn plotting how they're going to clean up the latest dump. You see their driveways are grand canyons, and the plows don't go high enough to push that snow over the canyon walls, and we've all heard and experienced enough of our own avalanches lately to know the futility of trying to move snow out of the way.

Gosh, this is fun. Julie, it's coming close, but not quite enough wind yet to meet the requirements of a '68-'69. And, I must correct a major error in yesterday's Daily Bee story about the auditorium roof collapsing in '95-'96.

It was '96-'97 because my Cedar Post students did a special issue on the collapse and won a National First Place in Quill and Scroll journalism awards that year. So, let's get those facts straight for all the folks in future years who have to listen to us geezers talk about "the winter of . . . ."

And, when we tell those stories, we like to pile it higher and deeper----unless it avalanches, that is!

The old Ford sits waiting for another day of duty this morning----after she's shoveled off, of course!

Bill drove this pickup to work either yesterday or the day before.

Shane Beebe, of Eternal Concrete, also does a great job shoveling off roofs, as he did at the Colburn farm. Mother can no longer see anything except the tops of snowpiles out her windows. She sure does appreciate Shane's efforts though.

Before

I took this photo around noon yesterday when the west end of the storage shed roof was still standing. I left for about an hour and came back to see the roof had completely caved in as shown below.

After

There's a boat in there, along with yard implements, furniture, garden stuff, lumber, and hundreds of other sundries. It will be several months before we know the extent of the damage.

This morning

Moose poops and Obama

Okay, I'm sure you're out there figuring she's gonna write about snow again this morning. Well, I do have to report the latest deposits. First, we received about six inches more as the snow fell from 4:30 a.m. until well into the evening yesterday. I plowed the driveway and lane at 1:30. By the time Bill arrived home at 5:30 p.m., he could not tell I had even plowed.

So, he worked at it with the snowblower and the tractors last night. He was out there this morning digging out his pickup when I got up. I came upstairs to read my email. The first note I opened was from Annie sending me a link from the New York Times she thought I'd probably already seen.

Well, I hadn't. When I read the political commentary focused around a young man named Bryant Jones who was working for the Obama campaign in South Carolina, my eyes welled up with pride. The adrenalin was charging, and I was about to write a note to Annie thanking her for sending me the link when Bill summoned me downstairs.

"The mama moose and her calf are out here by the barn," he told me. At that very moment, still in my Bryant Jones zone, the thought of a cow moose and her calf standing out by the barn wasn't nearly as exciting as it would have been any other day this snowy week. I followed Bill outside, and we watched as Big Mama and Big Baby trotted down the driveway toward the road.
Bill was glad they had left; so was I.

Speaking of deposits, they left a big pile out there between the house and the barn. And, that's what gets me back to Obama and Bryant. I've mentioned before that Bryant was my student and my friend. Ever since graduating from high school, he has sent me Duck Boy calendars, Union Pacific calendars, and this year, a red neck calendar.

I have other gifts representing his travels and his involvement. Bryant graduated from the University of Vermont where he served as student body president. He later went to China and spent a year teaching English to middle school classes averaging 60-65 students. When he returned from China, Bryant brought me a calendar with artwork created by some of his colleagues.

While residing in Vermont, however, he took a slight detour from the calendar route and sent me some Vermont cocoa along with some Vermont moose droppings----chocolate candies, of course. Somehow, I could never bring myself to sample one, and I know they're still tucked away around this house somewhere. Maybe I'll have to go out there to the driveway, scoop up and reciprocate with some Lovestead moose droppings.

Anyway, what do moose droppings have to do with Obama? Well, it has more to do with Bryant and this morning's moose timing. Since he's involved in the Obama campaign, I'll just leave the link below, and you can read for yourself.

In the meantime, I'm one proud teacher, one proud friend and one proud Obama supporter. There. I've said it. Read on . . . and try to avoid moose droppings at a home near you! The link: ( http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/28/opinion/28cohen.html?hp)

More and more and more . . . .

People here in Snow Country have no excuse to not have their "at home" Christmas photo for 2008.


Greetings to you from the Lovestead

The news from Lake Snow Begone today is that it's still gonna be a while before it's gone. It's dumping again this morning with a 60 percent chance for the day. Right now, that looks more like 160 percent.

Shane spent most of the day on Mother's roof yesterday, and I don't think he's quite finished. He has two other buildings to do. Shane is a very nice roof shoveler. He moved here from Michigan three years ago and set up his decorative concrete business. He says it's hard to get that concrete to set up during winters like this, and since he's in business for himself, he hasn't had any concrete jobs since November. So, if you're looking for a nice young man to shovel your roof, we'll finish up with him first. You can find his number on (www.sandpointonline.com) in the classifieds. Tell him you read it on the blog.

Jenny at (www.mangymooseacres.blogspot.com) wrote a couple of days ago about equipment breakdowns, due to snow, just within her family. I was telling Bill and suggesting that the equipment in the Inland Empire would sure like to see this snow end too. He told me about his friend T.J. Johnson whose snowblower blew up a week ago. Tom had a heckuva time finding another snowblower to purchase. The domino effect continues.

I'm wondering how many million snow pictures have been taken in the past several weeks. I'm wondering how many hours the fix-it folks have been working and how much money has been spent on purchases of snow removal equipment and repair. I wonder how many sore arms there are after the past few days of "knowing that roof had better be shoveled off." I'm wondering if there could be such a thing as helicopter snow removal.

I'm wondering just how deep it's gonna get. Julie from sunny Orlando wrote in yesterday and was glad to see that I had addressed the Winter of '68-'69 comparison. She lived in the Selle Valley at the time; her folks ran a dairy, I believe. So, she has vivid memories, and she was smart enough to move to Florida!

The rest of us poor saps weren't that smart, so we just have to shovel it and tell about it as it gets piled higher and deeper. I must note that the big difference between this year's winter and that one 40 years ago (are ya feelin' old, Julie?) is the lack of wind. Now if we had a good wind whoopin' up through the area with all this snow, we could outdo that year hands down.

Well, I've been blowing off enough steam about this snow---can you imagine what would happen if we did have steamy temps all the sudden? I don't even want to think about it.

Must get to work so I can have something to talk about tomorrow.

Snow fun!

Even the dogs are having difficulty finding a place to do business.

Soon we won't be able to find the fence, but we sure hope the horses do.

This is the view directly out our front door. We haven't seen the deck for months. And, we're mighty glad that Selle doesn't have that ordinance they enacted in Clark Fork last year banning outdoor Christmas decorations after the holiday season ends.

There's SNOW business . . . .

They're blasting for avalanches up at Schweitzer. We had a wrong-number call this morning, and it turned out to be one of my friends calling her workplace to tell 'em she was stuck in her driveway and wouldn't be making it in until later. We've already called a man named Shane who put an ad for shoveling roofs on the free Sandpoint Online Classifieds. He's coming to the Colburn farm to shovel off the house and two sheds.

A plane slid off Spokane's runway yesterday and made national news. KHQ-TV spent the day somewhat like Communications Central exchanging the "piled higher and deeper" stories and photos along with hundreds of cancellations. Spokane set a record yesterday for the most-ever snow within a 24-hour period.

Bill got the new 4-wheel drive Kubota tractor and loader stuck last night. We shoveled furiously, and then he used the 2-wheel drive '54 Ford to pull it out. He had me sit on the new one while he pulled, and I have to admit being a bit freaked out once it started moving and continued to move up a mound of snow leaving me looking down on an incline. I was surprised and pleased, though, when he unhooked the chain, and I was able to drive the tractor out of its predicament.

Later, Bill told me he got it stuck again but was able to use the loader to maneuver out of that one. He managed to get both tractors up here to the house and cleaned out the driveway and parking area. In the meantime, we kept hearing about the upcoming snow storms scheduled for all week long.

Spokane must have closed down completely because we have no Spokesman-Review this morning. The kids in this area were not included among the long, long list of school closings because they were already scheduled to be off today while teachers finished their semester grades and recorded them into the system. There was hope that the teachers might not have to go today, but that was dashed.

So, here I sit after the phone has been ringing off the hook this morning. The most recent call came from Shane who said he's been digging his truck out all this time and then remembered his ladders are over in Priest River. He asked if my sisters have ladders. They do, so I must hurry and get over to the Colburn place to find the ladders so Shane can shovel the roofs and get them cleared off before tomorrow's storm which is supposed to rival this weekend's "event."

Then, I'll probably come back over here to the Lovestead and do some more shoveling, especially around the barn door where the freezing ground is heaving, making it extremely difficult to open and shut the doors. At least, it's a drop-dead gorgeous day here, and our eyes can get some enjoyment while our bodies keep getting pounded with more and more work.

Snow business is brisk for sure, and one of these days, God willing, I'll have something else to talk about. How many more days of January????? And, for all who speculate. NO! This does not come close to the Winter of '68-69. It's got a long ways to go, but I have a feeling people are just as tired of this one as they were 40 years ago.

Snow end to it

So, when there's no electricity, and it's too dark to read the papers, which haven't arrived anyway, and you've already spent half an hour digging out so you can open the barn door to feed the horses, ya gotta do something to pass the time.

So, of course, with no traffic coming down the road, I could take my camera out and snap some photos, in hopes that by the time I came back, the power would be on.

I ambled down the road, snapped some photos---without my glasses, of course---and never bothered to notice that the camera was on the wrong setting all the time. Of course, it was not quite full daylight, so that can serve as my lame excuse.

Since my photos turned out all blue because of the wrong setting on the camera that I couldn't see without my glasses, I tried to doctor 'em up a bit with a little sepia and a little black and white.

They aren't very good, but they kept me busy, and they prove to the skeptics out there that we sure did have another big dump last night. I shoulda just kept taking pictures on the wrong setting, though, cuz the power wasn't back on when I got back. In fact, as I type this post, it's 11 a.m. The power came on half an hour ago or so, and the first road grader just went by.

Bill was out measuring with his yardstick at 5 a.m. Being the methodical guy he is, he measured in several spots and came up with an average of 12-13 inches of new snow. Since then, we've received at least three new inches, and it continues to fall.

I talked to Geneva next door, and she said Stan figured two feet over there, simply because of how high up it came on his pant legs. While we chatted, he was up on their house above the kitchen, shoveling. Geneva was glad that we at least had water, which I guess can be a problem if Oden electricity goes down. She said they enjoyed breakfast by candlelight this morning. I've been enjoying my coffee heated up on the wood stove. Not bad.

Bill's off at church for both services because the pastor is out of town, and he has to do Communion. He noted that this is the third Sunday in a row that we've had huge snow dumps.

With the never-ending deposits, I'm getting a little nervous again about the contents of our storage shed, which caved in a couple of weeks ago. I figured then we'd maybe seen the last of the heavy snow and that if everything stayed status quo, we would be okay. Now, that's doubtful cuz this snow is heavy and wet, thus having the potential of making the whole roof come falling down.

And, to Betsy and Andy who are buried in snow up there at Elmira, thanks for helping our mother across the parking lot yesterday. She appreciated you, and so do we. She's also glad she went to town to do her shopping yesterday.

I think we're all going to remember the good ol' Winter of 'o8.

Powerless

At least 15 inches of new snow since last night. Power off for four hours. Will be back with guess what? Some SNOW pictures. Check back. It continues to snow.

Saturday Slight

Big day for the ZAGS and the Cougs today. In fact, I've gotta hurry with my blog, get those horse stalls cleaned and get back into the house by 9 a.m. The ZAGS play No. 1 in the nation, Memphis, this morning on ESPN 9 a.m. PST. I remember the wild and woolly battle between the two last year in Spokane.

During that one I was having a hard time concentrating on all the basketball action because I was watching my daughter-in-law's feet also. She was sitting right behind Coach Mark Few during that contest, and we mostly just saw those tennis shoes that had stayed overnight at our house just before the game. Debbie stayed too.

Gonzaga lost that heart-breaker, but it sure was exciting, and I sure did jump up and down when I spotted Debbie's face along with her tennis shoes one time during the action. She won't be in Memphis today so I should be able to devote more energy toward the team. The ZAGS have continued to improve this year, so it's anyone's guess who's gonna win. But, as usual, GO ZAGS!!

Speaking of winning, we have more primary results coming in today with the South Carolina Democrats picking their candidates. After all the reading I've done on this Presidential election, I've come up with a solution to solve the ongoing problem that seems to be facing the electorate---we've gotta elect our first woman . . . we've gotta elect our first African-American . . . we've gotta elect that war hero soon cuz Chuck Norris says he's getting too old . . . we've gotta prove a Morman isn't going to get into office and start sending his personal missionaries out to convert the world . . . we've gotta keep the Hollywood people happy and so on, and so on.

Lots of "gotta get dones" in this Presidential election business and those dire needs seem to be superseding the real issues and paralyzing the ranks. I think there are actually people out there who feel urgent about these situations because they think they might just die off before they ever see a woman, a Black, a Mormon, and so they're forgetting about everything else that the President has to do to lead the country.

With that in mind and to make sure everyone gets to see their favorite sex, race, religion, socioeconomic status represented, I think---on a one-time only basis----that we ought to elect several Presidents---one for the women, one for the Blacks, one for the war heroes, one for the rich white men who were once poor because their father worked in a mills, one for the Mormons, one for the Evangelicals, one of the Law and Order movie stars, one for the radicals, one for the also-rans who never stood a chance in the first place, etc., etc. etc.

Once elected these folks could get together, form a board and take turns assuming the duties of President of the United States on a bi-monthly basis. That way if American's couldn't stand certain members of the board or vice versa, they could enjoy a few months of misery/ecstasy----whatever vibes each leader sent out during his/her stint.

Seems like a win-win situation. These candidates representing all those blocs of voters could have their day in the sun and, at any given time, there'd be a happy group of constituents who would get to revel in the womanliness, blackliness, evangelicalness, heroic-ness, etc. of the American Presidency.

We could do this on a one-time basis to get all these "gotta do's" out of our system and then in the next election go back to the business of electing the person who will best serve the needs of the broad American tapestry. Crazy thoughts, but in an election year, one is often driven to crazy thoughts by the crazy things we see and hear in the punditry and the sound bytes.

Well, I guess I've babbled enough. The horse apples await, and the game is less than an hour away. GO ZAGS. GO COUGS. GO BLACKS. GO WOMEN. GO HEROES. GO MORMONS. GO RUDY. GO MILLWORKERS' CHILD. Is Dennis Kucinich still running?

Fun stuff

I have to tell you about Chris and Kathy and Katy and Buddy Chambers. I've known Chris since he was in high school. Used to spend a week or two at a time with the Chambers kids when their folks went south on vacation. I thoroughly enjoyed Chris and still do. We had lots of enjoyable, upbeat conversations during my stays at their home.

Later, Chris played a significant role in what could have turned into a disaster when one of our horses, with our daughter Annie aboard, got his feet stuck in the railroad crossing. We've never forgotten his help on that scary day when it took several men, a veterinarian and big crow bars to get the young horse unstuck from the tracks.

Chris also married well. His wife Kathy is one of my favorite people. She lights up a room, she's very caring, involved, smart and much loved by all who know her. My mother admires her like no other because Kathy has been one of Mother's very special friends over the past few years.

I've known both of Chris and Kathy's children since they were born. Notable images that I can conjure up in my mind of those two kids include their absolute enjoyment while dancing at our son and daughter-in-law's wedding reception AND the first and last-ever Chic-o-Stick eat-a-thon at Bonner Mall about three or four years ago on Janurary 31.

The event was my way of celebrating the end of January. We had fun, ate Chic-o-Sticks and raised money for overseas troops. Mr. Buddy showed up that day and almost took first place in the speed event---that meant whoever downed their Chic-o-Stick first. Like his mom, Buddy lit up the event.

These kids embrace life like few others I've seen. Both are leaders admired by their peers. If there's something positive going on among the youth in Sandpoint, you can expect to see Buddy or Katy in the middle of it. Look out for them as they turn into adults. I have a feeling they'll have a significant impact on the future of this world.

In the meantime, watch for them on TV. The following note from their mother Kathy explains:

Hi family and friends,

As some of you may know, our kids love to make home videos.some turn out better than others and a few are really funny, especially those bloopers that happen when they aren't TRYING to be funny. Well, they sent one into America's Funniest Home Videos in the hopes of winning some money and basking in the glory of fame.

We got the call today that their video was chosen as one of the top 3 finalists, and we will be flying to LA next weekend for the show's taping on February 2nd! The kids are beyond excited and can't wait to see the set and walk the streets of Hollywood. We will be sure to let you all know when the show will air so you can tune in!

Love,

Kat
PS. For making it into the top 3, the kids have won a $2000 prize, which will go straight into their savings account for college! Woo hoo!

On another note, there's another young person, who actually spent time at the Chambers house years ago when her mom and dad went out of town on a short vacation. She was young at the time, less than a year old. Her name is Annie Love, and I must tell you about her latest adventure. Well, it's not latest---it's upcoming, and you can follow her along the way.

This is our child (she's 29 now, going to be 30 this fall) who, as a youngster, made life totally miserable for Mom, Dad and older brother every time we went hiking in the mountains. Annie's M-O during those days of her youth included a lot of whining or just plain sleeping emphatically in the car whenever we would set off on a hiking trail. If she did follow us along the trail, she did so unwillingly, hanging far back and complaining every step of the way.

I was astounded back in those days that any child of ours (two outdoors fanatics) could be so unappreciative of the natural world around her. Our pep talks about enjoying the wonders of the outdoors fell on deaf ears-----at least, we thought that at the time.

Well, this is the same child who, several years later, cajoled, coerced and encouraged her mother on the most difficult hike of my life in far-off New Zealand. This is the same child who, last summer, climbed to the top of Mount Pilchuck in the North Cascades and sent us a photo while we were hiking in the Cabinets. This is the same child who also, last summer, climbed to the 10,000-foot level of Mount Rainier and thought to herself------why not the top?

And, this child of almost 30 plans to do just that this summer in late June. She wants folks to know about it so that she feels more responsible for reaching the goal. She has started a blog called (www.rainiergirl.blogspot.com), and she figures on a long road ahead, raising money, getting in shape, assembling the necessities, etc.

Anyway, our Annie wants others to enjoy her experience, so she'll be posting on the blog fairly regularly and would love to have you read how she's doing. If you've ever viewed her photography (www.nnlove.blogspot.com), I think you're in for a treat as her adventure unfolds. So, with no further adieu, I'll send you off to check out her new blog---address above.

Definitely some fun stuff to look forward to as we end another month of January, and I'm thinkin' Buddy's appearance on national TV, along with his sister Katy, will far outdo our Bonner Mall Chic-o-Stick event a few January's ago. All the sudden, January doesn't seem so bad.

Lawrence of Letterdom

Joseph Wythe is lamenting the high-end development soon to erase the snowbirds' longtime trailer haven at Trestle Creek. Whatcha gonna do, though, when Jack Nicklaus and his buddies are behind condos and boat slips? The plan for the project is to complement the high-end gated Nicklaus golf course and housing development, known as Idaho Club, formerly known as Hidden Lakes, formerly known as a wonderful wetlands for migratory birds and beasts.

Meanwhile, Peter Lucht is saying, "Get on with it!" I was pretty sure he was saying it's time to get rid of those seasonal traffic snarls through downtown Sandpoint and BUILD THAT BYWAY!.

Finally, Pam Auletta is ticked off about the county dumpster Nazis at the transfer stations who won't let you drop off your garbage anymore unless you've got THE STICKER. Pam had her 2007 sticker, but the fearful Nazi told her she had to drive back eight miles to get the 2008 STICKER.

Of course, Pam was fair to the Nazi who informed her that her job was ON THE LINE if she did not enforce the rules of the government gestapo. Pam's looking for a little common sense, suggesting that folks dumping their garbage at the county's designated spots could get a warning the first time they forget their sticker.

Those were the three letters to the editor in today's morning Daily Bee. Now, I've seen Joseph's submissions in there a time or two; seems like last time he was talking about the architectural downsides of the new big bank in town. He's an architect, so it's no surprise he may have something to say. Could be Pam and Peter are newbies with their opinions.

All three letter writers reflect their own opinions and the thoughts of a lot more folks around here, who, no doubt, read their words and cheer that someone took the time and had the guts to say publicly what they were thinking. In some cases, other readers probably sigh or groan and wonder where those crackpots get all their hair-brained, provincial ideas.

Yes, indeedy, letter writing and reading the letters of the sounder-offers ranks as one of the favored indoor sports here in North Idaho---'specially in the winter time. Both participants and spectators derive physical and psychological benefits from their individual roles in this often colorful and emotional sport.

With that in mind, I picked one of the perennial and more prolific Daily Bee letter writing stars and featured him in my current The River Journal column. It's fun to see what's behind the pen, so do enjoy this column about none other than Sandpoint's own Lawrence Fury.

Q and A with Local Letter-writer Lawrence Fury

Love Notes

by Marianne Love

for The River Journal

January, 2008

His name is a fixture among the Daily Bee “Letters-to-the-Editor” contributors. His versatility is apparent through the wide variety of topics upon which he comments: the schools, the Byway, the tunnel vision, world politics, and any issue threatening to diminish the folksy charm of old-time Sandpoint. Some readers think he’s a grumpy old man who just sits at home all day thinking negative thoughts to pen for his next signed editorial-page submission.

Lawrence Fury is anything but old. He’d gladly settle for 40-something, but admits to an upcoming 52^nd birthday, having been born here “in the old one-story Green hospital moved up from Farragut.” He figures that 95 percent of his life has been spent in Sandpoint with 5 percent in Southern California, Oregon and Coeur d’Alene.

This locally employed bachelor does not sit home stewing, but he has published a cookbook. He knows his opinions can grate on a few readers, but his only regret about his long history of submissions to the paper is a little repetition. Sometimes, though, he believes topics demand background for readers to understand current situations—hence, occasional repetition. Lawrence believes he offers a voice for a lot of folks with opinions similar to his own, but he figures if he might be too polarizing if he sought public office.

Like anyone who stirs up opinion, there’s plenty more to Lawrence than meets the reader’s eye. He’s a Sandpoint High graduate with two years at NIC and additional travel agent studies. He loves mountain biking, road cycling, weight training, and cooking. He’s a Trekie because the Star Trek series “portrayed loyalty, adventure and a positive future for humanity---not JUST running around blowing things up.” Besides listening to ‘80s pop music, he enjoys the British series Dr. Who as well as many old ‘60s sitcoms.

There’s plenty more, and Lawrence has kindly responded to several questions from my “enquiring mind.”

Describe your typical day. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Cook dinner. Play a computer game. Go to bed. Do it all over. Unlike at least one or more of the opponents of the Byway, my weekends include bicycling or the gym, according to the weather/time of year. Biking with a friend of several years during the summer. Talk to my neighbor(s) sometimes and a longtime friend in Olympia, Wash.

Who has influenced you most? Why and how? Probably not one individual. On a wide scale, President John F. Kennedy. He inspired us to better things. Where is he or a successor now when we need him/her?

What genres do you enjoy reading? Favorite books? Sci-Fi, adventure, supernatural. King’s Salem’s Lot in my top five. Summer of Night by Dan Simmons. I am Legend, the new Will Smith Movie, is based on a remake of Omega Man with Charlton Heston from the early ‘70s.

What or who have been your writing inspirations? Always wanted to write for TV or movies.

When, where and how much time do you devote to writing? Do you write by hand or by computer? Not as much as I used to; only occasionally now. Making a living intrudes on too much. Hope to do another cookbook (gourmet this time) as well as a book of local and area ghost stories next year. I use a computer . . . a Macintosh by the way.

What writing are you currently doing? Where has your work been published? A short story years ago in a monthly Sci-Fi digest-size magazine and a cookbook called Victorian Sunday Dinners (2003 -- Quixote Press, 35544 Blakslee St., Wever, IA 52658 (800) 571-2665, $11.95) five years ago featuring a recreation of a 1915 book of 52 complete-menu Sunday dinners. My mother’s mother, as a young woman, lived in New York, actually Long Island where she worked briefly in a small publishing house a year before moving to Wyoming where my mother was born in 1916. This was a book Grandma (I never met her) brought West.

Mine is not much different from the original except some modern suggestions/shortcuts if you don’t have all day to prepare all 6 to 12 menu items from scratch as you had to do long before the proliferation of prepared foods. Menu items: Meat loaf (originally called Hamburg Roast), boiled cod w/egg sauce, peach cake w/sweetened cream, watermelon pickles, lemon/peppergrass and onion salad, figs in sherry jelly, roasted stuffed shoulder of lamb . . . .My Inspiration? It was just neat to preserve a piece of history in some fashion. I also like to cook. Too bad I never made someone a nice wife. Ha, Ha.

Describe memories of your early days in Sandpoint? Open vacant lots where a number of neighborhood kids and I played . . . especially a half-acre lot of woods three blocks from our house called the Bumphills where we rode our sting-ray bikes over a bumpy trail of probably a quarter mile and played the usual kid games.

How has the community changed since you were young? No more open spaces like the above to play in. The Bumphills is all just new houses on Hickory, the block down from Boyer now. Now everything, even here for the most part, seems structured. “No Trespassing” signs all over. We have to go further and further afield for recreation/fun in the outdoors. All housing developments.

The quality of the life we used to have through the mid-‘90s is fast evaporating. This is a main reason I’m so against the real power behind NICAN, the Realty/Development complex. They want to develop the east bank of Sand Creek into an upscale/exclusive community whose residents, when they are here, would be a customer base for the little high-end, over priced specialty shops that dominate downtown now. These have less and less to do with the lives of those of us that have to live here full time and go to work every day.

What positive aspects of local growth have you've seen? At best, a slightly brighter job market. Other than that, nothing.

What do you miss about old Sandpoint? Different, unique local characters, organizations, etc. Now they’re only a shadow of their former selves. We’re fast becoming little more than greedy developers, fast food joints, and the other victims of Walmartization, McMansions, upscale, gated communities occupied by those who force more and more of the average wage earners out.

What next? Three-million-dollar average home prices? Cops driving BMW’s. Have’s and have more’s.

If you could change anything about this community, what would it be and why? The undue influence of those who only want to benefit themselves. This is why I was thrilled to see that the realtors and the construction company/developer candidates lost their bid for city council seats. Things are served up on a silver platter to them now. What would the rest of us be in for if they actually could vote on issues that directly concerned their vested interests?

What was the topic of your first-ever letter-to-the-editor? The first attempt to pass a local recreation district about 20 odd years ago.

About how many have you written since? Never counted them.

What provokes you to write letters? Frustration at people pushing agendas that benefit their own interests and not the false front they often state that they know is best for everyone. The “Letters to the Editor” column is the only real forum for the average person to rebut these people.

What preparation do you do to write your letters? None, I just sit down and write what I’ve been thinking.

Do you keep copies of all your letters? I’m not a narcissist.

Which of your submissions have tended to be most influential? The pro-Byway ones of course, but I think the ones I did a year and a half ago against the new recreation center in Ponderay. I believe they went a long way in putting a knife in the heart of that campaign. It was defeated 83 percent to 17 percent.

Are you an angry old man? More like common-sense guy. And, definitely not old. How many my age still do 20-30 miles combined trail and road bicycling rides? Bench 225 pounds? Or, curl 100 pounds?

What kinds of behind-the-scenes reactions (both negative and positive) have you received from your letters? Mostly either calls of support but a few negative ones: the latter, anonymous. They don't have the courage to tell me who I'm talking to. One tirade then hung up, or rather I hung up on after about 90 seconds with a 'Have a nice day.' She was still jabbering when the receiver hit the cradle.

The Kea update

Hi,

I've sat on the bed long enough listening to her tap, tap, tap on that computer, and it's time you heard from me for a change. We've traded spaces and SHE'S lounging on the bed next to me as I figure out this keyboard. In a week or so, I'll be four months old, and it's been a good life so far so that's what I'm gonna talk about.

I have heard HER talking to that Cherise lady---she's the one who's always poking me full of stuff with those needles. Last time we stopped by Cherise's office, I heard something about "spaying." Now, I don't know what that is, but I figure if they've got to take me to some hospital to do it, I'm not too excited.

For now, though, I just want to tell you about life up to this point. Ever since I moved north from Post Falls and the Slaney family, I've had a lot of fun. They did change my name once I got to the Lovestead. I kinda liked Reba, but that Annie Human wanted me to be called Kea. I haven't quite figured out why there's an Annie Dog and an Annie Human in our Love family. It does get confusing at times.

Anyway, I've been Kea for enough weeks now that I almost forgot my original name. By the way, I can't complain about Annie Human too much cuz she made me famous. She took a picture of me and it was on the front page of a big Seattle online newspaper. So, if you live and Seattle and have seen a cute Border Collie in the paper, that's mea, Kea.

Since coming here in November, I've gotten to know my way around this place. I know where the cats' Meow Mix is in the shop, but I've been having problems lately crawling under the shop door, which SHE--that's my human mom---pushes up when it's not cold so the cats can get outside if they want. The other day I got stuck in that 8-inch high opening and almost had to cry for help, but SHE walked by in time to help me out.

I also have some good friends here. There's my big sister Kiwi and my old granny Annie Dog. I pretty much stay out of Annie Dog's way, but I like to hang out-----oops, hang ON to Kiwi. I just grab her by the neck with my teeth and go for a ride. She can run really fast too, so it's kinda fun. Kiwi's always trying to herd me when we get out into the fields, but I'm getting to the point where I can almost outwit and outrun her. She spends most of her day sitting by the horse corral staring at every move Mr. Lefty makes. And, if he does something Kiwi doesn't like, she just barks and barks at him. And, if SHE is in the barn working, SHE comes out and tells Kiwi to shut up and leave Lefty alone.

I've learned to stay away from the horses cuz they sure are big, but I love it when they're in the barn. Then, I can go out into their pen and gobble up horse apples to my heart's content. I also like to eat dog logs, and SHE yells at me about that. If only she knew the flavor of processed Atta-Boy, she'd understand what a delicacy it is.

Besides eating and begging while THEY eat their food, I love to go up and down the stairs and plop on the beds. I also like to chase Festus, the cat, around the house. His head tastes really good, but I never crunch down on it too tight. I still haven't figured out how he gets up on that toilet seat and drinks out of the bowl without falling in. But I don't think I'd like toilet water so I'm not going to work too hard on studying his methods.

One of the most fun things I've done was the other day when SHE put my leash on and also Kiwi's. We walked down the road for a long ways. At first, I was kinda choking because I was pulling too hard on that leash, but I figured it out and just trotted alongside Kiwi. We got down to this horse place, and there was another Border Collie marked just like us. It looked at us and barked a big, mean bark, but then it went back to its business: a big black mule. When we came back the other way, it was still sitting there, staring that mule down. I wonder, if that's what Border Collies are supposed to do, if I'll have to stare at Lily. I know that she's already Annie Dog's pal, but Annie Dog doesn't stare at her. She just goes in there and walks around with her. If Lily does something she's not supposed to do, Annie Dog barks, and that's that.

I guess I'll find out what my job is around here before long. I do spend a lot of time trying to scare off that dog that keeps coming to the sliding glass door. It looks exactly like me, and it's worse than Kiwi with that herding stuff. If I go right, it goes right. If I go left, it goes left. If I go straight at it, it comes right to me, and that really scares me, so I back off.

One thing I've discovered lately with all this snow is that it's really fun to do nose dives. It's soft and powdery, and when we go snow shoeing, I bury my head deep into it lots of times. SHE just stands there and laughs at me, and I don't know why. Speaking of snow, I love it when THEY shovel and use the snowblower. Every single time a shovelful of snow goes flying, I jump at it and almost catch it. And, it's so much fun when all that white stuff comes raining down on me in a steady stream when HE pushes the snowblower around.

All in all, it's a good life here, and I can see HER waking up from her nap and just about to climb off that bed next to this computer so I'd better finish up before SHE comes and yells at me for playing with her tech stuff.

Talk to you later. Gotta run. . . .

~~~Kea

Snow: cheap and deep

~~Rock bodies~~

Forget about the stocks falling through the floor. Invest in some snow. We've got it, and I'm flaunting it. Actually, it's been fun going out almost every day on the snow shoes and catching shots like the one above.

My puppies have been with me every step of the way---even ol' Annie Dog who's gotta be at least 12 years old. She's a little slow, but she'll go to the ends of the earth to be part of the action.

I'll dedicate these pictures to Becky and all the Meserves who are so kind to let me traipse across their beautiful piece of God's country.

Note: the last photo was shot in a location other than Meserves. Locals can guess the spot, and I have a feeling the Love family geocachers will recognize the stump.

Enjoy.

Good feelings

Bill and I agree that our luck of late hasn't been anything to cheer about. Winter and other factors have taken their toll. Heck, I even bought a DVD Saturday so we could sit home and watch something other than re-runs----both political and entertainment-oriented on the television set.

The ZAGS had won their game early in the day, the snow had started, and it would be a good evening to just hunker down and watch the recently released 3:10 from Yuma. The movie had been recommended by my friend Mow, so I selected it from the "New Release" pile at Wal-Mart---paid 20 bucks.

After the regional TV news ended, I told Bill about the movie and suggested we watch it. He happily agreed. I placed it in the DVD tray and pushed "play." The first sign something was wrong came in the message "insert disk." Well, I had, but I did so once more. The sign reappeared, and I could hear some thumping noise inside that DVD inner sanctum.

"Put another DVD in," Bill suggested. I did. "Insert disk" the machine told me once more. At that point, I lost it.

"Can I do anything right?" I barked. "Can't even play a damn movie, and I paid twenty bucks for it." Bill tried the machine with no luck. I stomped off mad.

You know how you reach those points of frustration when it seems like everything you do or touch seems to go bad. This was one of those moments. Normally I wouldn't get so upset about not being able to watch a movie----ask my daughter, and she'll tell you how she has to poke me all the time during movie watching or repeat time after time, "Are ya awake, Mom?" Well, here was one movie setting that turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

The camel had had enough bad luck, and the camel wanted really much to forget all the bad luck, escape to Yuma and worry about some fictional people's bad luck. But the damn DVD player was broken. And, it was snowing and blowing outside and the thought of driving back to Wal-Mart to purchase a hundred-dollar new DVD player to play our $20 movie, though tempting, just didn't seem sensible.

So, I left Bill with the downstairs TV, went upstairs turned on the television, and Tom Hanks saved the day. He just happened to show up on ABC's Saturday night movie presentation in The Terminal.

Yes, it was a rerun---at the Love house anyway because one time a while back when the DVD player was working and Annie was home and nudging her mom, asking, "Are ya awake, Mom?" the movie was airing in our own living room. At that time I must have been awake for only the last ten minutes cuz I didn't remember anything about the first 90-plus minutes.

Bill did, though, cuz he was apparently awake when it aired, and he knew what was in the Planters Peanuts can.

"D'ya know what's in that can?" he asked as we began watching the TV presentation.

"No, do you?" I said.

"Yeah," he said.

"How do you know?" I asked, still thinking this was a brand-new movie for the two of us to watch on this snowy Saturday night.

"Cuz I've seen it before," he said.

Go figure. Add one more to the roster. I learned, with that conversation, that we were, indeed, watching a re-run and that we had (some of us) watched it right in our living room some time back. Nonetheless, Bill stuck with Mr. Najorsky (Tom Hanks), and so did I. Saturday night, I actually didn't fall asleep during The Terminal until toward the end cuz stuff started looking pretty familiar, and I knew he'd get the good looking lady and that all would end well. So, I snoozed on through the night on that note.

Then, yesterday morning we dealt with drifts. I was not surprised to see that the papers did not arrive. Bill was going to church---two services at the Presbyterian Church---so he cleared out a path in the driveway and said he'd call when church was over---to see if the papers came. If not, he would purchase them in town. They hadn't come when he called, so he showed up shortly after with the Spokesman and the North Idaho Sunday (which usually takes 90 seconds to read).

The worst part with that paper was that my friend had already told me who had written letters to the editor, so yesterday it took only 50 seconds to read. Then, I picked up the Spokesman and began reading a story.

"Why have I read this before?" I thought to myself. I checked out another headline and the photos. Was this Ground Hog day at the Lovestead? Everything looked very familiar. Then, I looked at the date for the paper. It was the Saturday Spokesman, which had come to our house in our paperbox, and I had read it the day before.

I told Bill. He grimaced and then complained, "I put 8 quarters in the machine. I had to go inside to get the change because they had told me the Sunday Spokesman was in the paperbox."

Well, you paid $2 for yesterday's news," I said. Bill was irritated especially cuz the Saturday paper does not cost $2. He agreed that our luck sure was going down the tubes.

But the story does not end there, and this one is not a rerun.

We both worked outside during the afternoon, clearing paths and driveways and snow off from the roof of the caved-in storage shed. It was cold but a beautiful day to be outside. We were both standing in the driveway when a car went by very slowly.

"Maybe that's the papers," I said. Then, the car went on down the road. Our hopes for reading Sunday morning news were once again dashed. Bill went into the house for a minute. I finished what I was doing outside, and the car came back, stopping at the end of the driveway.

It was the paper lady. She and her family had been snowed in and had just gotten out. In the midst of their snow removal attempts, their snowblower refused to fire up and they broke part of their plow. Not a good day for them. I told her about our bad luck of late and then, just for fun, told her about Bill buying the Saturday paper for $2.

Without batting an eye, she pulled out a bag of coins and handed over eight quarters.

"I can tell 'em at the office," she said. "How about the North Idaho Sunday?"

"No problem there," I said. "We got today's edition."

After all the bad luck we've had, this was a moment to behold. Someone, who'd had plenty of challenges herself, was making it right. She handed over the papers. We talked, and I walked back to the house feeling mighty good that for once, something turned out positive.

Granted, a small thing---just two dollars---but just like the normally inconsequential situation of the DVD player not working, this moment struck a strong chord---in this case a very positive chord, a reminder of a comment Bill made to me long, long ago when we first met: it's often the little things that often make the biggest difference in life.

Thank you Spokesman lady for making our day. It went well from that moment on. Maybe our luck is changing.

A relative snow storm

No papers this Sunday morning. So, I'm in to a different routine. A while back the weather pictures showed just plain cold days through this week. No real mention of snow until yesterday, and when they mentioned, we listened. Cold, blowing and drifting snow possibilities through 4 p.m. tomorrow, Randy Mann told us on last night's weather forecast.

Within minutes, his forecast was coming true. Overnight, we received another four or five inches of very powdery but noticeable snow, which did drift. But it's all relative. Compared to what we dealt with over on Great Northern Road, where the wind came whooping through like a hurricane any time it felt like it, this snowstorm was nothing. In fact, we had to step outside to see that it was snowing, blowing and drifting. We couldn't hear a thing.

At our old house, where the wind often whistled and roared ferociously day and night, we sometimes thought for sure a re-enactment of the famed Winter of '68-'69 was surely getting in gear---and we thought that several times, only to trudge to the end of the driveway and wonder about the fuss. That piece of real estate where we lived for 30 years had absolutely nothing to stop the winds from the north, just wide open fields extending about a mile beyond our place.

The long east-west driveway was always a sight to behold after a good blow---even a tourist stop one winter when people would come by just to see our drifts. One winter we had to walk over the drifts---which came even with the tops of fenceposts---for two weeks to get to our vehicles parked just off the road.

I also vividly remember the day, when a storm closed schools early, going home, parking in the railroad driveway and having to get down and roll over the drifts to the house. That mode of travel became a necessity since every step taken through the snow meant sinking to my hips. Fortunately, nobody was driving by to witness the lunatic rolling down her driveway.

Yup, last night's storm was nothing compared to those we endured at the old place. Here, at the Lovestead, we have big trees to the north which shelter us from the extreme winds. Besides that, our house is a lot warmer also. We had a nice Blaze King stove in the old house, but it was encased in a brick shrine in the hallway. It did a great job of heating the bricks, but we froze during the really cold times. We had electric heat and paid a fortune for it, while the stove sat looking pretty in its shrine.

At this house, we've got one of those Vermont stoves. It has no shrine. It simply sits on a brick pallet between the living room and the dining room. The bricks extend a bit far, boding sure disaster should any enebriated soul go walking and tripping through the living room in the darkness. So far, we've kept folks from sipping too much sauce and have avoided life-threatening injuries. And, on its ample perch, that stove is wondrous.

I've commented to Bill that this is the first winter in years where I've actually felt toasty warm and comfortable in the house. There's something wonderful and homey about a good wood stove sitting in the center of activity and doing its job well. We rarely turn on the electric thermostats cuz that little stove heats the entire house.

And, so the winter of 2007-2008 continues to test us, a bit relentlessly. Yesterday while getting out of the house, I went to Wal Mart, and the talk among most folks I met there centered around this winter and how much more snow we're going to get. In one case, a friend told me they have no more places to push their piles; in another, they simply said they're tired of it all.

It's definitely that two-thirds-through-January trying time here in North Idaho. If we can just muster up a positive attitude over the next 11 days, we'll have another of the worst months of the year licked. Then, we can move on through February and hope for an early spring. That's the eternal hope among most of us here in North Idaho.

Then, again, it's all relative. We'll have to remember these times next July when the Global Warming saps us of every ounce of energy---and we're wishing for a good snowstorm.

Buy-Op-See --- Adult spelling bee results

No, that's not some new eye glasses company looking for your business. It's a phonetical way to say the word "biopsy." Now, take a moment, even cheat and look at the word. Now, spell it out loud. See if it stops you short like it did the veteran spelling bee winner at yesterday's Farmin-Stidwell contest. She started the word three times and never could spit it out right.

As she struggled, I watched empathetically, knowing how hard it was to get those letters to dribble out of her mouth in the right order. If you're like me or like this young lady, the "b-i-o" comes easily, but for some reason the word does not cooperate from there.

It's a doozy to put on a spelling list, and it knocked her out of the competition in the first round. Kinda like that "rubber baby buggy bumpers" we used to try to say three times quickly. I never mastered it. Try that one at home!

The contestant was understandably a bit emotionally distraught but handled it well. I saw her after school and sympathized with her about the awkwardness of the word. By that time, she seemed to be taking it in her stride, although sixth grade is not an easy time to tumble when you've been going to district spelling bees with regularity.

I was truly amazed at yesterday's contest, which involved fourth, fifth and sixth graders competing separately. Look out for those Farmin-Stidwell fourth graders! It took 16 rounds to determine a winner. I thought I was going to be standing there until midnight with that group. We finally went to the fifth-sixth grade jar, and after a few more rounds, a winner emerged.

I've been the pronouncer for three years now, and I've never seen a group so well prepared as those fourth graders. I think the same group had the most parents sitting in the back rows. Unlike past years, the officials held the bee in the school computer room rather than the gym. The setting made for less stress for all concerned and a better opportunity to watch facial expressions of both students and parents.

It was the word "apparent" that caused my eyes to dart to the back and watch "a parent" looking at the ceiling and mouthing the letters to himself. He spelled it right. Of course, I couldn't resist giving him a rough time without identifying him. He chuckled as one judge Kathy noted that that's why parents sat behind the kids.

Some parents looked a bit more stressed than the kids. Sound familiar? Oh, by the way, "familiar" was on the list, and one parent noted that they always stick that word on spelling lists. It was spelled correctly every time yesterday, but this parent's daughter forgot to capitalize "Wednesday." I was pleasantly surprised to see how magnanimously both he and his daughter reacted. He seemed to be a big supporter of the event, regardless of how his daughter did. Speaking of which, the sportsmanship among the kids was also impressive.

The best parent reaction came from the mother of one of those phenomenal fourth graders----the winner, in fact. Mom's justifiable pride quickly switched to gasping amazement when, after winning the marathon competition, her daughter announced to everyone within earshot, "I don't want to go to the district contest." Even with Mom's stunned expression, she repeated her shocking announcement. I have a feeling some discussion may have occurred at that household last night.

Speaking of being stunned, I experienced a few surprising moments during my pronouncing duties. While reading sentences and definitions, I ran across three incorrect uses of verb tenses and one misspelling. These appeared on downloaded sheets supplied by the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Seems like they could hire a proofreader and save a little egg on their faces---or is that ayyggg?

I've asked Trish to send me the results for the Winter Carnival adult spelling bee, held last night at Community Hall, but she must not be up yet. If they come, I'll post them, along with Trish's observations, a little later. Bill and I chose to avoid spelling and dig into some Duke's barbecue.

I've finally allowed him to eat there because the service has improved dramatically since that first week when they hadn't quite worked out the glitches yet. It's sitdown ordering from a waitress and real plates. We had a great meal and wonderful service. So, check out Duke's if you haven't been there for a while.

We ran into our usual Friday night diner-outers---Connie and Bill "Bones" Malone. Seems like no matter where we choose to go for Friday meals, the Malones are there. We decided last night, as we've done many times, that one of these Friday's we'll just have to plan to meet and eat together. And, that would be fun.

Other news---what else is new? The ZAGS play today. Go ZAGS!!! And, there are some interesting primaries; wonder if there will be any tears? If so, who will be shedding them?

Happy Saturday.

From Trish Gannon, The River Journal publisher: We, the Keokee team that is, came in second after a very hard fought spelling bee. We were beaten by... tah dah!... Wells Fargo Bank. Yep, a bank won it again.

I realized they deserved to win it when they spelled "hoomalimali." At least, I think that's what they spelled. The judge couldn't pronounce it, but before she even finished trying, their one girl was spelling it out. It was pathetic.

Once it was down to four, I thought no one was ever going to get out. We still had the librarians in, and the Panhandle Alliance, and no one could do wrong it seemed. Billie could probably tell you what words they finally got out on.

We actually beat the bank once. They couldn't spell "schadenfreude." But WE (meaning Cate Huismann) could spell it, and we beat 'em. But then we couldn't spell our next word "charpoy." We spelled it "poi" at the end, then changed it to "poy" but David (Keyes) said we changed to a y after our time was up. So it was back for another couple rounds, and I think we got out on "gourami" but am not sure.