The Greening of the Lovestead

Things are moving slowly around here this morning, especially on the computer. I decided to show that plant life is doing its best here, including the grass.

I started digging out this spot yesterday---not to bury myself, but to have a space where that greenhouse can go. Nancy at All-Seasons said she'd have some strong boys during spring vacation who could help move it from her lot.

The Hastings plowed around the greenhouse, so it has a clear pathway from their premises. With some more digging today, I'm hoping to have a clear pathway for its permanent residence here.

Maybe, just maybe, some day these tomatoes, marigolds and pansies can start living in the greenhouse.

We're doing our part for the greening of this world. Have a happy Monday; I've got snickerdoodles in the oven.

I presume you're suicidal this morning

Talk about a line. One of my friends sent me that one-liner note yesterday. I'm still laughing. Thank God.

Bill says it's gone beyond the state of getting mad or sad.

My sister, who just started her spring vacation says never, never in her lifetime does she remember a spring vacation like this. She refused to go outside yesterday other than to do her chores. I think she figured a sit-down strike would turn the tide.

My mother calls it a cold version of Purgatory. The venial and mortal sins of our family have definitely mounted up and turned our souls black; now we're paying with eternal damnable whiteness. Iz this the way we get purified?

Annie says to just make the most of it. She's learned to be positive and to cast off any notion of sin. After all, in her mind, the religions are the root causes of all the world's wars.

Willie says he doesn't care if the snow's three feet deep and rising when he comes home today. After, all two big NCAA games will greet him on the tube when he arrives. Maybe a dog or two and a family or two also.

Another friend wrote last night and noted that spring sure got over quickly. "Where's summer?" she asked---rhetorically so, I'm guessing. I must have been taking a nap when spring happened so I couldn't answer her first probing question.

Well, the good news is that the perpetual floating banner running across the television screen all afternoon yesterday, promising another big dump of 8 inches in the valleys and a foot in the mountains by 11 p.m. last night, DID NOT tell the truth.

I shoveled off the deck again yesterday, so I know we received only a skiff overnight. Now, for the folks down there in the Pullman banana belt, it may be a different story.

I slept a lot yesterday, determining in my pea brain that the more I slept the less I'd have to gripe and the less others would have to listen to me gripe.

So, I missed the climactic action of the movie called "Rocket Science" that Annie brought home. I was too busy doing my own rocket-science method of dissing winter.

I didn't miss or diss the Second Avenue pizza Annie brought home, though. Thank God for Carolyn and her staff for creating some cheesy sunshine for an otherwise 'nother day of winter.

I baked brownies too. So, when Willie comes home and takes up his NCAA tournament position on the couch, he'll have brownies for munchies. Annie's actually watching the tournament too cuz her bracket prognostication is turning out very well for the geocaching groupies' office pool. She's in second place, so far.

Bill tied a lot of flies yesterday. He thinks that some day the ice will disappear from the lakes and that the fish, who haven't broken their noses, will once again jump out of the water in search of goodies. So, Bill will be ready.

Lefty, my cute Arabian, turned one year old yesterday. While our neighbor Gary Finney visited with us next to the fence, Lefty got his nose caught on something sharp, and for a few brief moments, we had color. Splotches of red dotted the new-fallen snow. Maybe that guy with the art show down in Coeur d'Alene should have been hear to grab a piece of the winter canvas.

Oh, I almost forgot. Bill and I did take a trip yesterday---to the dump. That always helps my mood, especially when I get to sit and watch who's taking stuff off the free pile. Unfortunately, yesterday, folks were just in to loading up the bins.

Well, I guess that's enough for today. As I look out the west window, I see some pale blue sky hiding behind the mountain, acting like it would like to make an appearance, but feeling a bit shy.

Yes, Helen, it would have been easy to be suicidal yesterday, but I dug deep into my box of "feel- good-because-you're-so-damn-miserable" supplies, and I made it through.

A little sleep, a little pizza, a little family, and some chocolate, even a little concern from friends who really don't want to read your obituary just yet----the combination worked well for yesterday.

Now, if we're still telling the same story five days from now, maybe call on the guys in white jackets! They'll blend in so well with the terrain that maybe the neighbors won't even notice that they're carrying me away.

Saturday Slightly Snowy

Okay, okay, I've used that title before. I've also sat in Spokane Airport before getting to know the TSA guys and their jokes and whoever else is sitting and waiting for flights that never come. Last night's "whoever else" came in the form of a personable Pentecostal minister/log truck driver/jack-of-all-trades/father of six/grandfather to 30-something.

His character substituted for the role of the businessman from Chewelah who waited with me back in December while our precious cargo sat in the Ontario, California, airport for 8 hours beyond their original departure time and boarded three different planes in the process.

I felt slightly groundhoggish again last night while sitting in the Horizon-Alaska terminal waiting for Annie who originally was supposed to be on the 7 p.m. flight from Seattle, but that changed to 9:30 p.m. and that changed to the 5 p.m. flight that was leaving at 6:30, but that changed to the 5 p.m. flight leaving at 8:30. That also involved Annie deplaning three times with two planes and a guy sitting next to her on all planes mumbling F-You under his breath but loud enough for Annie to hear every time a new flight SNAFU was announced.

Annie said she got a bit tired of his F-words and almost asked him to refrain but figured it he uttered that many F-words about innocent little flight changes, what might he do to indignant strangers who didn't want to listen to his F-words? So, she dealt with it and kept quiet.

Another friend, whom I'd gotten to know on a first-name basis during the December waiting marathon, walked by last night. Four months later, we had forgotten each other's first names but not our faces. In December she was the "hostess with the mostess" for Express Jet, the carrier bringing my precious cargo, Mow, from Palm Springs. Well, Express didn't live up to its name that day, and maybe that gave this friend a hint to try a new airline cuz now she's working for Horizon.

She was so pleased to learn that I was waiting there this time for my daughter.

"Oh, what airline is she on?" my friend asked.

"Horizon," I answered.

"Oh," she said, suddenly acting as if she was in a real hurry to get on her way. I expect next time to see her working at the Southwest Terminal---if they get all their planes inspected properly, that is.

Well, Annie finally arrived, and I said good bye to my new best friend, the Pentecostal minister, and told Annie I'd do the driving because the snow was blowing all over the place and she doesn't get much practice driving on snow in Seattle. Not since driving the LA Freeway back in 1994 with a van filled with seven journalism students have I white-knuckled it at the steering wheel quite like I did during last night's three-hour drive home to Sandpoint.

Using 4-wheel drive most of the way, I learned about near-hypnotic states as billions of thick white snowflakes blew into the windshield and their predecessors covered the pavement, hiding any semblance of white or yellow guiding lines.

The saviors on last night's trip home were those normally obnoxious serated tracks in the pavement, grinding out their message, like fingers on the chalkboard, that we're straying too far to the right or left. As Annie said while we all but slid down the freeway in the midst of hundreds of other tentative drivers, those things provided some much-needed traction. I actually welcomed the sound every time I moseyed their direction.

And, this is March 29, and most of Sandpoint---anyone with any brains or money---has left the area for parts south. I saw a former student, Scott Brown, at the Ramada where I ate some dinner before heading over to the terminal. He was headed to Bermuda. I know people who are in Florida this week, and I know folks in Cancun and folks in Hawaii. I am thinking about them, rather jealously so.

But, we'll make it through this day of blowing snow, which has built up another six-eight-inch blanket overnight. Annie says she's kinda happy the weather's like this cuz she's looking forward to some down time from all her hiking and half-marathons and bare-ground walks to work. We'll try to make her stay as pleasant as possible by refraining to use "F-you" comments in her midst, even though we think we have good reason to say such things to our dear beloved Mother Nature.

Maybe Willie will be glad to see the snow when he comes tomorrow to celebrate his spring birthday in beautiful North Idaho rather than in Boise where the daffodils have certainly come and gone.

As for Bill and Marianne, and all the rest of us poor, weary North Idaho saps, we're still waiting, and they do say that "Good things come for those who wait." If so, after this winter, we must be gonna win the lottery and win big.

Have a nice Saturday from Snow Country.

Yes, ICAN -- No: NICAN

I must still be in that dream. The sun is shining, and the Bypass is on again. Tomorrow, the next chapter could be more snow but no bypass, so I'm gonna enjoy this while ICAN. After all, we're in the instant news era, and things can change fast; it just always tends to be the same ol' story with the never-ending plot lines.

Yesterday, a Federal judge ruled against the group called NICAN who have worked hard for years to stop the Bypass around Sandpoint. I'm happy but cautious in my glee. Could it be that more than 50 years of wrangling over how to alleviate traffic congestion in downtown Sandpoint has finally reached closure?

I don't think we want "closure" cuz the traffic could still get snarled up, so I won't use that word. Instead, I'll ask, "Could it be that the fight is over? Will the bypass aka byway proponents raise their hands in victory, or will there be overtime?" We have no crystal balls, so we'll have to just wait and see.

As for the sun, I do know that it's showing its face today as just a ploy to make us think the winter will finally end. But we all read the newspapers and listen to the weather reports and hear from folks on the West side of the mountains who are seeing snow fall all over their spring flowers. At least they have spring flowers!

We also hear about the extension of the deadline for removing studded tires in both Washington and Oregon. And, we know the fight with winter over in these parts has at least one more round to go. When they say to expect at least two inches tomorrow in Spokane, that translates into about six here in the snow belt.

But, I'll have some distractions from my eternal loathing of this uncooperative weather. Tonight Annie comes home, and Sunday afternoon we'll see Willie. The Love family will have a few hours to enjoy "family bonding," as we've called it for years. I think Annie coined the term in reference to those occasions the four of us could spend together as a mom, dad, son and daughter.

We might go to Farragut Sunday afternoon. We picked Farragut a couple of weeks ago because we thought surely there would be no snow there, and we could enjoy some time outside. If we go, it may involve snowshoes rather than bicycles and frisbees.

Whatever the situation, we'll make the most of it as we start off "Birthday Week." Tomorrow: Kevin's; the 30th, our cousin Jim's; the 31st Chad's (he's almost like family to me---gosh, Chad, howz it feel to turn 31 on March 31?), April 1, Willie's; April 2, Bill and Margaret's; April 7, Laurie's; April 9 the triplets, and we always remember our dad on April 12.

Thinking about all those occasions always has a spring touch to it. Maybe we can just "will" the weather to finally change. Speaking of which, I'm changing the subject to pontoons.

Yesterday, I went to Sandpoint Outfitters to talk to "Pontoon" Tom Anderson. He's one of the grand poopahs of the local pontoon crowd; in fact, I interviewed him for my Sandpoint Magazine story about pontoons and he gave me some good stuff about all the places he takes his custom-made fishing boat for fly fishing.

Anyway, while we were talking, he told me I could win a fly rod if I just went to (www.sandpointoutfitters.com) and signed up, I could win a $225 Sage, 9 foot long, 7 wt. fly rod on June 30. So, I did that this morning. The site is beautifully done, and the home page features a gorgeous photo of the lake and Schweitzer---looks like it's been taken from Gold Hill.

Tom said the fly rod contest is designed to get folks to the website which tells all about their fly tying and fly fishing classes. So, if you want to see some nice scenery and you like fish photos, check out their site, and sign up for the contest. It's worth the trip. Besides, I'm sure Tom will be happy to send that rod anywhere in the world as well as their merchandise.

Well, with all this talk about fishing and pontoons, I've actually forgotten about snow for a few minutes, but I haven't forgotten about the bypass.

It just puts me in a good mood, knowing that a single bypass around Sandpoint some day could do wonders in relieving many of our blood pressure problems. And, the medical insurance companies will be happy about that.

Yeah, Judge! Yes, ICAN!

Iz it Groundhog Day?

Am I in a time capsule floating around in the sea of snow? Am I dreaming, or am I having a nightmare? If I pinch myself really, really hard, will I wake up from a winter's slumber and smile because ALL THAT SNOW OUT THERE is just a bad, bad dream, or could it possibly be that I need laser surgery and maybe it's all just a mirage?

Has Groundhog Day Syndrome developed into a real disease? Does Chevy Chase have anything to do with this?

Could it be that each new morning really is NOT bringing a brand new dump of snow and that on each new morning our plans for two weeks from now when they say we'll hit the 50s (like they've been promising for the past month) will be put on hold for at least another week or two as the new six inches which fell overnight and the new six inches they predict will fall overnight on this upcoming night will surely take a while to disappear so that we can get back chipping away at the three-four feet of petrified snow beneath those two new layers.

Was that song "One Step Forward and Two Steps Back" inspired in North Idaho?

Don't they say sometimes that truth is stranger than fiction? Could it be that the fiction writers have taken over our lives and that we are living their stories? Iz Hillary still dodging sniper fire in Bosnia? Maybe she needs to come to North Idaho where she can dodge snowballs at Bob Murray's airstrip.

No, that's not snow out there because you're sleeping, Marianne, and you hate the interminable winter so badly that you dream about it at night as you sleep.

And, those dreams seem so real. When will I wake up and smell the roses?

Call me when that happens!

In the meantime, I guess I'll just keep on slumbering and dreaming---until the Cougs game this afternoon, that is. Go COUGS, and, boys, do enjoy the Carolina sun, cuz you're coming back to SNOW.

Okay, I'll shut up and go back to sleep.

Don't fence me in: it's gonna cost you $$$$

Those cows have had their wishes granted----at least for a while. I drove over to my mother's yesterday. It's a 3.5-mile trip. Except for Jim Taylor (who seems to have the market on how to build a better fence), every single section of barbed and smooth-wire pasture fences is in need of drastic repair.

Bill and I drove over to our old neighborhood last night to pick up a few bales of alfalfa from our friend Howard. We observed similar fence destruction along Selle Road. A couple of weeks ago, Bill attended a meeting at Jim and Virginia Wood's house (congratulations to them on 60 years of marriage to be celebrated this weekend).

During the meeting, Bill talked with their son Leonard who told him that every single fence they own needs to be repaired. I believe they have a couple of thousand acres among their holdings here in Bonner County where the family pastures their cattle herds. Yup, those cows and calves could surely have a heyday with open range this year.

I think the county commissioners should issue a proclamation for "Fence Day" in Bonner County this spring, whereby all owners of acreage with downed fences could have some community back-up on repairing the miles and miles of fortresses that keep the cows and calves enclosed in their pastures rather than having them cooped up like sardines in a holding pen or wandering the landscape at will.

After all, high school kids could chalk up some hours of community service by helping out. Fence construction generally involves one in the know and several gofers who hold wire, clamp wire or pound staples. Seems like the concept could be a great help to the landowners who have more than their share of work cut out for them this year. Plus, it might even be fun for all concerned.

In the many conversations about this "damn winter," I've noted that we truly have a disaster situation in Bonner County and that the expense of taking care of it, no doubt, runs into the millions. Check out the cost of fence materials and labor and multiply that by hundreds of miles' worth, and I doubt there'd be an argument.

Add to that the hundreds of structures which have caved in throughout the county. Bill told me about a huge potato storage shed out at Ruen's east of Clark Fork that is no more. A short drive down any county road will verify that we were hit pretty hard---and gradually so. Unlike the hurricanes, tornadoes and floods that make national news for a few days, our situation remained beneath the radar (or snow) because of its intermittence.

A shed caved in here, a barn caved in there, and as the snow piled up and up and up, the wires on fences sagged down and down and down. It took four months for all this to happen, so it didn't make headlines, and FEMA did not come rushing in for the rescue. Instead, this spring each landowner must dig deep into the pocket and find hours that don't exist to clean up the aftermath.

Also, each landowner needs to act quickly when and if the snow cover ever decides to vamoose. After all, the windows of opportunity are short in these parts. It's going to take monumental efforts throughout the county to get things up and running agriculturally----and that's on top of the usual work like moving cattle, planting, haying, etc. which already extend spring and summer days far beyond sunset.

I haven't seen or heard of anyone locally asking for government handouts to aid their situations. That in itself is a tribute to the independent spirit and mettle that exists here. But it sure would be a neat thing if the community could pitch in to help out for a brief time those uncomplaining, hard-working people who have always been the backbone of this area.

Color at The Coeur d'Alene -- The Art of Edward W. Gilmore

Artist Edward W. Gilmore says "'. . . a blank canvas is a life not lived.' His work has layers, stories, and reflections with vast colors and textures in which he leaves a part of him within every canvas."

Artist Edward W. Gilmore wants to help kids and families through his art. His work (such as the paintings above) will be featured this weekend at The Coeur d'Alene in an event called "Edward W. Gilmore's "The Art of Color: A Show Benefitting the Child and Family Guidance Center."

exclusive 2 day showing

friday and saturday / march 28 and 29 / 6 - 10 pm

wine & appetizers served

coeur d'alene resort / 115 south 2nd street, coeur d'alene, idaho 83814

I'm featuring information on Gilmore's show in this morning's posting because he plans to donate a portion of the funds derived from the show to the Child and Family Guidance Center in Tacoma, Washington.

My niece Maureen works as a counselor for the center (http://www.cfgcpc.org/)
Maureen tells me her colleagues are very excited that he has chosen their facility to benefit from his generosity and talent.

The link above takes you to more information about the center and the art show, and the following link (http://edwardwgilmore.com/index.html) takes you to more information about Edward W. Gilmore and his work. Seems like after this winter, a little color can't hurt, and Gilmore supplies plenty of it in his spontaneously produced abstract paintings and sculptures.

So check it out, and pass the word. If you can't make it to the show, I'm sure the Child and Family Guidance Center would be happy to help guide you through other avenues of donating to their cause.

Say it ain't so . . . . It ain't! :)

We had just finished watching the Russell Crowe remake of the classic Western "3:10 to Yuma." Bill asked my sister Laurie to punch the remote back to the regular TV in fear that we wouldn't be able to figure out how to do it ourselves once she left. Laurie happily punched the correct button.

The weather graphic for the next ten days was on Channel 2. All but two days had snowflakes or raindrops and cold temperatures. The forecaster said that if we wait until next Tuesday, April 1--er Fool's---we might see some springlike days----maybe even in the 50s. I put my head on the counter, took a deep breath and did my best not to say those naughty words or to cry out loud in front of my family.

Of course, outside on this earliest Easter in 200 years, the snow from afternoon had turned to full-fledged rain. It had been the dreariest of dreary Easters. I hadn't even gone to Mass because of discovering the beginnings of new sink holes out in the barnyard. Remember those three last December when horses fell in---one by the barn, two in the pen where they stay during winter months? Well, these were some new holes.

The snow and ice had thawed enough on that one nice Easter Saturday to open up some new holes. I sank almost to my knees in in some places. So, the morning was spent back and forth between the sand pile, our neighbor had dumped on the hole by the barn, and the holes along the trench for the new water line. I also brought a couple of loads of manure from the pile to use as temporary fill.

The alternate field where the horses can go during our newest destructive era, "Sink Hole Season," has no fence because the snow all but destroyed it. After getting the ham in the oven and the table set for our Easter guests---Mother, Barbara and Laurie---I went out and surveyed the field leading to the loafing shed. I could shut one gate, but not the one on the hill, which was blocked off by a major snowbank. I looked at the fence along Meserve's boundary. It was all sagging or completely down, but there was hope.

If Bill could remove the snowbank in front of the gate, and the other panel gates. We could shut off the loafing shed from enquiring equine minds. I could easily fix that fence along Meserves because all it involved was putting the wires back on the fence holders and because the big trees along the border had caused the snow to clear away from most of the fence.

With that plan in mind, I went back to the house and continued to work on the Easter feast while watching NCAA games. Later, in the rain and snow, we did what we could to get that pasture ready should we need it. It's not a good situation, but it's better than having horses step in sink holes and break their legs.

Mother and my sisters showed up at 3 with scalloped potatoes and bright yellow daisies in hand. Mother had already brought the cream pies on Saturday. Pita accompanied them and the doggie wrestling matches with her friendly foe Kia began in earnest. There were occasional near trippings of the main cook in the kitchen, but the girls were kind enough to keep most of the action away from my feet.

While heavy-duty NCAA commentary among three knowledgeable women and one man took place in the living room during the North Carolina rout of Arkansas, I finished the last-minute items for our delectable feast. Mother announced during the meal, "Well, I'm proud that I raised daughters who are good cooks." Coming from my mother, a cook extraordinaire, that was a compliment.

We turned on the movie which we've been trying to watch off and on for a month. About the third time Russell Crowe's character, a very ethical and culturally endowed murderer who adored green-eyed women, killed another character simply because the victim made him mad, I asked for the pie orders. Usually Annie does that dessert task, but Annie wasn't there. Three cherry cheesecakes, one half and half for Mother who also wanted chocolate cream, and one Schwan's apple alamode for me.

We ate our pie and watched as Russell Crowe was finally delivered to the 3:10 to Yuma. A lot of bad stuff happened then, and Laurie protested that movies should end that way. She loves her Westerns but hates bad endings.

Well, the ending got worse with the weather forecast. I spent the rest of the evening contemplating how I was going to get through the emotional depression of one more week of winter. I told Bill I'd take the Adirondack chairs out to the barn and paint them. At least, that would get me out of the house and, at least, something could be done to prepare for a spring that never seems to come.

That was last night. IT AIN'T SO!!! That weatherman did not speak the truth. There's not a cloud in the sky. The wind blew overnight. We did have a freeze, meaning no new sink holes this morning, at least for a while. It's a gorgeous morning, and that is all I need to yell, "Glory Hallelujah. Thank You, God!" I've already done that a couple of times.

I'll take faulty weather forecasts like last night's any day, and I'd better get out and enjoy it because you've all heard that "wait five minutes' forecast."

My wish to you

~~~Happy Easter~~~

Saturday Slight

Sunny Saturday and BEEutimus up toward Schweitzer. They say the blue sky is not gonna last much past today, and next week's forecast shows that same string of days at 40s, nights low 30s. People have their favorite weather sayings: only fools and newcomers predict the weather in North Idaho or if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes (faulty logic here for sure).

I coined my own generalization several years ago: whatever weather we have, we have a lot of it. That's proving true once again with this week after week of "post-winter trying to get off the pot but never quite managing." Maybe we need some Wesson oil.

Speaking of which: how about that lady who sat in her bathroom for two years! They had to take her and the toilet seat to the hospital. How does that happen? Even I, who spend more than my share of time in the bathroom, can't imagine the possibility.

It's true. I'm not making this up; it happened in Kansas, and they're thinking of charging the boyfriend, who fed her meals for two years in the bathroom, for dereliction of duty or negligence or something like that. Crazy world, for sure.

Today is my friend Ann's 61st birthday, and I bet she's not reading this cuz she's in Hawaii. I guess if you have to turn 61, Hawaii's as good a place as any to do so. Happy Birthday, Ann. Enjoy the sun.

I was saddened yesterday morning, as I've been a few other times, to realize that I knew the young mother who was killed in a car accident on HWY 95 earlier this week. So, often I don't know the married names for former students. This time, when I saw Joni Baker Zantow's picture in the obituaries, I thought of the young lady who sat in my English class.

Joni had a wonderful dry sense of humor; said funny things, always kept a straight face. She was very bright too. I thoroughly enjoyed her as a student and always delighted in visiting with her when we'd meet at the grocery store. Another sad loss for this community. Seems like there have been far too many of that nature lately. My heart goes out to her family.

On a more positive note, congrats to Becky Reynolds. Boots tells me this morning that Becky is retiring next week. Boots' book is doing very well, and they've decided it's time to kick back and enjoy life---fishing, gardening and generally tending to their place, especially cuz Boots is getting older---next week, in fact. Which reminds me of the string of birthdays coming up.

Willie turns 31 on April 1 so he's coming home for his birthday, as is Annie. Willie's wife will be in San Diego on a Girl Scout-related trip. So, we're going to see that he has a nice birthday.

Willie reported on a "full circle" situation this week. He's doing a feature story about the Idaho State heavyweight wrestling champion from Parma. Seems the young man is a great-grandson of our longtime family friends, the Crocketts.

I didn't quite get the connection until Mark Finley's grandmother Maridean Mount Bloom called the day after Willie's note to tell me of a "coincidence." Mark's mother is her daughter, and she thought that reporter's name rang a bell. So when Willie's article appears, we'll have two generations of this family who will have written about the Crocketts---all good stuff, of course.

Two of our three teams lost out in the NCAA finals, so now we'll put all our efforts into pulling for the Cougs. They're playing Notre Dame this afternoon, so we hope they get to move on to the Sweet Sixteen.

On a final note, to all St. Joseph's Sister School graduates who read this, I'm passing along a hello and Happy Easter from Sr. Ricardus Tuskey who lives in an IHM retirement home in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

I received a wonderful card and note from her yesterday, and she said to tell all her friends in Sandpoint hello. Sr. Ricardus is a legend among our group; she's turning 80 this year and celebrating a whole lot of years as a member of the Immaculate Heart of Mary sisters.

Happy Saturday and Happy Easter to all.

A Not-so-Good Friday

The snow continues to pile up. That deck I finally cleared two nights ago will again need shoveling----once this morning's dump slides off the roof. Of course, then we'll have this afternoon's dump to contend with. Even the bare lawn circles around the tree wells are shrinking this morning, keeping the robins' worm-hunting areas limited.

Yesterday I was telling Elaine Clark how I'd screamed a few expletives out loud in the solitude of my house after once more deciding, "Well, I can always vacuum." All the outdoor plans for yesterday were washing down with the worms, as snow continued to fall throughout the day.

Elaine said her husband Buck was in a similar mood. My hubby Bill says he figures our neighbor Jim is too. Bill always uses Jim as a measuring gage for someone who might just be feeling uglier than I am about this ETERNAL WINTER!

Yesterday, my rain jacket was soaked by the time I did finish the one outside job of putting up new electric wire around the barnyard board fences so that the horses wouldn't eat the boards because they're so bored. I spent a few moments during one rain/snow/slop break stretching the top strand of wire along the pasture/lawn area, but gave up on the rest of the strands cuz they're still buried too deeply in the snow.

This morning, the outlines of my lawn rakes and my bike are creating some nice patterns in the new blanket of white. And, Tony's coming----to fix the lawnmowers for lawn mowing which started around here in early April last year. Silly me!

Who do I think I am anyway---as I follow the Boy Scout motto: Be Prepared? Well, maybe the equipment and the bike will get some use sometime this year or next. In the meantime, I water my pots too many times a day and threaten to vacuum the floors too many times a day. Even the NCAA games yesterday were mostly forgettable---the Cougs won by 31 points, so that wasn't exactly a nail biter.

Well, in a couple of hours, I'll get a break from my doldrums when the Zags play that team nobody here has ever heard of----the same team that's won 22 straight. Maybe the game will ignite some excitement at least for the morning.

I told Tony that if he's here during the game---where to find the lawnmowers. At least that's one thing I did right last fall; I put lawnmowers where they would be safe for the winter. So, Tony can work on them this morning under shelter from the thick falling snow that won't stop! Kinda reminds me of Hillary.

And, before I punch these keys any harder, I'd better stop right here on this Not-so-Good Friday.

GO ZAGS! GO BRONCOS! GO AWAY, SNOW !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Update: I just went outside for barn chores and decided the shed where one of the lawnmowers is stored doesn't have ideal conditions for Tony to crawl underneath to install a new blade and belt. So, I thought---like an idiot---I could drive it to the barn which is dry inside.

Ya know----they don't put snow tires on lawn mowers. I got stuck once. Gave up and pushed it back to the shed. I'll let Tony decide if he wants to work on it.

Counting sheep and Benji calories

I said yesterday that we'd probably spend a lot of time counting deer on our trip to Montana, but we saw far more sheep than deer. I can remember a couple of decades ago, driving from Plains to Thompson Falls, spotting my first bighorn sheep along the side of the road. I think it had a friend, and, at the time, it was, indeed, an anomaly and definitely something to report home about.

Well, the population in that 25-mile stretch has grown significantly over the years, so much so that big electronic signs along the side of the road warn drivers of sheep and announce the previous year's sheep-vehicle encounters. The sign yesterday noted "18 sheep hit in 2007." I don't know how many lived, but I'm guessing, few.

We saw four or five herds both coming and going to Plains. They're pretty ragged looking, but like any wildlife, they're fun to watch. These guys let me get fairly close with my camera but then decided to split.

We drove to Plains after dropping off books at Sandy's store, which is a virtual goldmine for "stuff" and lots of it, neatly organized with every available inch of space on shelves, walls, floors and ceiling efficiently utilized to display items from room to room to room.

In one spot, a photo of Sandy and CBS television correspondent Hattie Kaufman hangs. Sandy says Hattie visits her store every time she comes for a stay at her place near Thompson Falls. Sandy's second-hand store is located across the highway from Thompson Falls' main grocery store.

During our visit, a steady stream of customers came through the door looking for specific items or just plain looking. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and I'm planning to be back at Sandy's June 28 for a book event.

We said good bye and then headed on down HWY 200 to our designated lunch stop, Benji's in Plains.

We almost always stop there, have done so for several decades and never one lick of disappointment. It was beyond Montana's Mountain Time lunch hour when we arrived, so we had plenty of choices for seating and almost exclusive service from the waiter.

We sat at a table near the cinnamon roll display. Big mistake. Big rolls smothered with caramel sauce. I'd say at least five inches across and two inches high. I bought two for Bill and said he probably wouldn't eat just one; instead, he'd probably eat one-half.

After later sampling a small portion of one--heated up for about ten seconds in the home microwave, I revised my prediction. The melt-in-your-mouth flavor and lightness of those few bites proved almost too much for me. Bill almost did not see his cinnamon rolls, but I had to be strong.

After all, I'd eaten half a Benji burger, along a cup of their tomato, macaroni and hamburger soup. I had to remain strong because half a Benji burger includes at least 1,000 calories with its thick hamburger, melting cheese, real bacon, fat tomato, special sauce and bun the size of those cinnamon rolls.

I also brought the other half of my Benji burger home for Bill. It sufficed as his dinner, and I see this morning that he remained strong also, slicing only half of the untouched cinnamon roll. I may have tainted the other roll, and that may prove dangerous to my calorie count because I'll probably get to enjoy the whole roll. Bill never likes to eat any food from which someone else has nibbled. In fact, that's the one time his characteristic laid-back manner almost erupts---if I break off a morsal of anything on his plate, he protests and often says, "Why don't you just take it all?"

I must digress. That thought makes me think of years ago at the U of I Carter Hall when one of my dorm mates, Barbara Marriage, received a box of chocolates. Of course, when we gathered in her room, we knew she had them. Some of us made notes to ourselves to return later when she had gone to class and steal some of Barbara's chocolates.

Were we ever surprised when we opened the drawer, pulled the lid off and discovered a small bite taken out of every piece of candy! Barbara knew us all too well and had mastered the art of successfully hoarding one's private chocolates.

Back to Benji's on Wild Horse Plains' main drag, which is the highway going through town. It's definitely a place to stop for good and ample home cookin' , and, if you're there at Montana's Mountain Standard eating times, plan for some wonderful local color. If there's a big crowd of locals, they all stare at you--the stranger--when you come through the door.

And, for this ol' hick, that feels pretty darn hospitable. I know I'm among friends.

Snow hills; bare hills; dry ground. Yes!

And on this morning after, when they say it's the first day of spring and when the snow continues to fall outside my windows, even half a bare landscape in Western Montana looks good to me. There's hope that some day spring will come to North Idaho.

Meet me in MonTANa

March and Montana go together. At least, that's the case for some members of my family. I mentioned in a posting last week that Mother and Harold got married in March at the Ford garage over in Thompson Falls. Getting married in Montana was a natural for Harold who always wanted to go back to the Big Sky state to raise cattle.

The romance of his life, besides my mother, was a yearning to return to a piece of the "Last Best Place." Around the old yellow metal kitchen table in our family home on North Boyer Road, we heard story after story of life on the Madison Valley ranch during the '30s where Harold rode the summer range in the mountains and worked winters in the valley for the Easters who owned the ranch.

He talked of horses, of ranch owner Millard, and of his friend Kenneth Parent who took over the cabin in the mountains after Harold left. He also talked of chaps. His great chaps story had Mother going for years when he told her that he wore those thick leather bat wings to bed on cold winter nights in the ranch cabin, just to keep warm. She believed him, and so did I until the day he grinned at the wrong time and she caught on.

Going back to Montana remained Harold's wish, probably even until he died. Because of that constant longing, each year's early spring time provided him, at least, temporary fixes as we'd all load in the car and head east for a day's drive around Trout Creek, maybe even on to Plains or sometimes as far as the Bison Range. As documented in my first book, our drives often took us up and down back roads, scaring the bejeebers out of my mother.

There were always Bacon Thins---doled out sparingly to the three hands waiting to grab from the back seat. Those were days when we didn't have legal access to the refrigerator or cupboards. Life was frugal.

So, the thought of gobbling up the whole box of tasty crackers in one Sunday drive, while counting the deer---dead or alive---alongside the roads, never occurred to us. What remained in the box after this drive would mean more treats next time. After all, convenience stores where we could spend five dollars for a bag of chips and a beverage didn't exist. Nor did the five dollars in any kid's pocket.

Well, a lot has changed since then. For some reason, I remember the deer being a lot smarter about staying alive back then; could it be that oblivious drivers have increased? Convenience stores now dot the roadsides from here in the Idaho Panhandle to parts unlimited in Montana. Bacon thins are out; Twix bars or Reece's pieces and cups of coffee, purchased at Hope, Clark Fork, Noxon, Trout Creek or points in between, are in.

In spite of these changes, that allure of Harold's for the "Last Best Place" transferred to some of his children, and it still remains a constant with our mother. Could be because of the memories, or it could be because of the feeling Montana always instills in us---the feeling of a different time, a time that fortunately hasn't quite caught up with the rest of the crazy world---except for fast cars that is.

Even the generous state speed limit, or lack thereof, contributes to notion that independent-minded Montanans still like to live life without all the nitpicky rules, the fancy trappings or neurotic notions of present-day society. There's a delicious feeling of the past in Big Sky Country. Add that to a family's longest and dearest memories, and you've got the mix for another pleasant memory.

At least, that's how I see it today as Mother and I take off in her car---no kids in the back seat, no bacon thins but plenty of good memories---and head to Thompson Falls. A nice lady named Sandy Posey has asked me to bring some books for her store.

So, we're combining business with pleasure, and we'll probably count some deer and, for sure, we'll recount some tales of the days so long ago when Harold started this whole thing in the first place.

Oh, what a beautiful morning . . . .

There was a hint of spring in the air as I walked to the barn in my knee-high rubber boots past newly exposed, gravel coated grass extending from the driveway. With songs of chickadees and robins breaking the silence and while inhaling that indescribable smell of early spring, I picked up my pace and felt like skipping through the standing water to the big metal door whereupon first sound of sliding, Lily would give me her customary morning nicker, lay her ears back, then sidle over to the stall divider and land a good swift kick over toward Lefty.

Inside, the country radio-station deejays were announcing a messy multiple car crash on HWY 95 down near Blacktail south of Sandpoint, noting that there's still black ice on the roads and to be careful with the morning commute. Lily walked back to her bucket in time for me to dump out her helping of Nutrena youth pellets and Lefty waited politely for his grain mix, as he always does. The dogs raced around outside looking for sticks to chew on, like they always do.

I can feel that we've almost turned the corner to the season we've so long awaited, a wait which has required patience beyond what we've ever had to muster up in the past. The sun is shining, and if that snow melt was noticeable from overnight, I can't wait to see the difference by late afternoon.

Last night I took the outdoor Christmas lights down. Leaving them up this long could have netted me a hefty fine in downtown Clark Fork if all those city ordinances had passed a couple of years ago, one of which dictated that the lights were to go down three weeks after Christmas. I can see the gestapo coming now, armed with snowshoes to climb over the 8-foot snowpiles to get an up close and personal photo of my infraction for proof of my municipal oversight.

Well, Selle Valley ain't no Clark Fork, so I was safe from the bureaucratic invasions of the outside world. It felt good to stand on top of snowbanks---occasionally sinking deep into soft patches of snow--- and remove those lights from the metal wire that I'd strung between the two flag poles last November. The Christmas lights emerged from the snow about two weeks ago, but some parts of the wire holding them up were still covered until a day or so ago.

After removing the lights, I even chipped away and shoveled the snowpack from one end of the deck. That was after shoveling a path out to the Scotch pine tree to get the rake. I'd left it out there a couple of days ago after trudging through knee-deep snow to rake the combs and needles in the bare tree well which now extends in a circle about 12 feet from the trunk. It was something to do that night, something that could give me a small hint that the yard work that I love isn't too far off.

I've been busily trying to finish a heavy load of freelance deadlines so that when the lawn is once again visible from driveway to the Lovestead woods, I can go at it outside. This is what some of us hicks here in North Idaho live for---the work of spring: raking, working up soil, cleaning up dog poop, and getting ready for days when from dawn to dusk we're sprucing up the yard or working in the garden, with occasional breaks in between to admire it all.

Yup, it's looking like a beautiful day today, and with just two days until the spring equinox, it's time.

The Luck of the Irish --- Happy St. Paddy's, I think!

Well, it looks like on this St. Paddy's Day that there be a need for a little good luck here and there. Gosh, I don't even want to look at what's happening in our U.S. financial markets. Ouch!

And, when they talk about the "luck o' the Irish," I don't think we want to wish that on anyone trying to make a buck these days----especially when those bucks aren't worth much anymore. Maybe that's why it's taking five of them in some places to buy one gallon of stinky gasoline.

Lattes are a better deal. They smell better, taste better and probably keep us moving longer than that gas does.

Seems like expensive gas, gold-plated sex, worthless money and gotcha politics---in no particular order are eating away at our personal fortunes and monopolizing the news ----almost as much as snow does in the Selle Valley. By the way, we had a new coating this morning--about an inch here at the Lovestead.

There is bright news today, however. March Madness has begun. "Dancing with the Stars" is returning tonight. "American Idol" is well on its way to a talent-filled season, and "The Office" is coming back this week. Doesn't get any better than that.

So, this St. Paddy's Day bodes some good times ahead for those of us natives who, like Marie Antoinette so wisely suggested, have to have some cake (and ice cream) to take our minds off all that hifalutin dirt which makes us really mad!

I'm almost gleeful today to know that three teams, which mean something to the family and to me, are playing in the dance: of course, Gonzaga, happily, the Cougs, and surprisingly, Boise State.

I hadn't really kept track of the Broncos this season until I read last week that they had a chance to make it to the tournament for the first time in 14 years. Bill and I watched their game against New Mexico Saturday night and were pretty impressed. After three overtimes, they pulled out a 107-102 win, and that was with their stars sitting on the bench. Maybe we've got Fiesta Bowl ala basketball in store for us. They'll need some luck of some kind to knock off LOOOOville in Birmingham this Friday.

The Cougs are traveling to Denver to play Winthrop. They seem pretty happy, and the Zags have a challenge in store as they play the hottest team in the nation Davidson, down in the Carolinas this Friday. Seems like I've read they have a 22-game winning streak. Well, the Zags may have to change that.

I'm pretty well prepared for these games, except for the Cougs. Have Broncos and Zags sweatshirts but no Cougs. Maybe I'll have to go down there to Centerfield sports in the mall and get the rest of the uniform so I'll be a proper fan for all three teams. Whatever the case: Go Zags, Go Cougs and Go Broncos!

As far as those other TV programs, both Bill and I will be happy to see them. Bill likes "American Idol" and "Dancing with the Stars" cuz he knows that gives him a free pass to come up here and sit on this computer surfing the net for as long as he likes cuz I'll be downstairs glued to my shows.

A man doesn't want to admit that he likes those girlie girlie shows; nonetheless, Bill sure seems to know all the time who's doing well and who's not. I think a lot of other men are the same, especially since those big macho guys like Emmett Smith do so well on the dancing show. Whoever came up with the concept for "Dancing with the Stars" was brilliant because it appeals to just about everyone of all ages.

And, "The Office." Bill has gone through withdrawal ever since the writers quit writing new scripts. He keeps close track of Thursday nights at whatever time NBC decides to air the show just as faithfully as he does on those Thursday nights when the Schwan's Man is supposed to appear at the door. Well, Bill has been suffering in both categories. About the time we watched the last "Office" show, the Schwan's man/or men quit coming.

Seems that these Selle Valley back roads in the winter are too daunting for drivers as they try to keep those big yellow trucks, filled with ice cream, frozen cod and shrimp popcorn, between the snowbanks.

I think we've had three Schwan's men this winter and NO Schwan's men for the past six weeks. Bill faithfully fills out his orders on designated Thursday mornings, and on those evenings, we wait and wait and wait. By 9:30, we figure whoever the new driver is has decided not to come.

Now, this has been especially rough on me because Bill eats up all my Meadow Gold French vanilla ice cream cuz he has no Schwan's products of his own. That's a double whammy because Yoke's puts my favorite brand on sale only every six weeks or so. That's when I buy at least six boxes to build up my supply, but when a Schwan's man doesn't show up for six weeks, my efforts to hoard my French vanilla don't mean a thing.

Well, maybe this Thursday, if we have the luck of the Irish or, better yet, good fortune like those people on the billboards who win the big $78,000 pots at the casinos, and if the Schwan's man will get back in concert with "The Office," and if it will stop snowing, and if Yoke's has Meadow Gold on special, and if the Cougs, Zags and Broncos win and if the stock market will go back up and stay there for two hours, and if the Presidential candidates stop taking advantage of gotchas on the other candidate's seedy associates, maybe just maybe we'll can all stop being mad in March.

Erin go Bragh!

A Sunday run

I'm feeling a bit wistful this morning. Instead of sitting here in the upstairs bedroom, looking out the windows at snow, I could have been in Seattle this weekend. In the next hour or so, at least 20,000 runners and walkers will be assembling in Space Needle land for the annual St. Paddy's Day walk/run.

I did that last year with my cousin Sue. I could say that I did it with my daughter Annie and her friends, Miriam and Rachel, but they ran. Sue and I walked most of the race, running occasionally to get out of the way of the mass of humanity coming up behind us.

We did so for 3 miles, knowing we'd be sopped to the gills when it was over. An intense, windy rainstorm refused to relent as we trudged onward on the pavement, ending up down by the stadiums and the market.

We later went to breakfast in Fremont and then headed to our respective hang-outs to throw all those wet clothes in the dryer. I came back with a neat long-sleeved T-shirt and good memories. I also distinctly remember coming back and being shocked with the dramatic snow melt that occurred here at the Lovestead over my weekend in Seattle. If only . . . .!

I had planned to participate in the run again this year, but for various reasons, it didn't work out. So, here I sit, thinking about how much fun it would be to see all those crazy Irish people in their wild and wacky green garb. Even Elvis turned Irish for a day last year and hung out with our group. I didn't have time to get his autograph; besides, it would have washed away with the rain.

Well, it may not be the St. Paddy's fun run, but Bill and I are making a more practical run today. We're heading off to Coeur d'Alene a little later to visit the Home and Garden show at the Kootenai County Fairgrounds. Seems that the Nickel's Worth ads pointed out this week that a lot of the contractors who construct metal storage sheds are going to be hanging out there today.

So, we're figuring it will be a lot more efficient to talk to them in "metal barn row" rather than calling up and checking out each one individually. We're also hoping the visit will yield information about construction costs and time needed to get that shed up and working. It will be a while before the shed can go up because of the snow, of course, but just knowing we've got the handle on it will be comforting.

We took a run to the dump yesterday---PC dictates that I call it the Bonner Country Transfer Station. We transferred our garbage, aka, "priorly owned sacks, cans, coffee grounds." I notice that the car dealers don't sell "used" cars anymore, so I'm taking a cue and calling that stuff we took to the transfer station by it's proper PC name. I noticed that the free pile didn't have too many priorly owned items to give away. Must be a sign of the recession they'd like to say we're experiencing but don't have the guts to officially say it.

After depositing our priorly own contributions to the Transfer Bank, we took a drive along some of the back roads and noticed lots more carnage which is rearing its ugly head from the slowly disintegrating snow piles. We noticed that was not a good year for that expensive white vinyl fence.

We observed that several tons of accumulating snow really does a number on that stuff as we passed by an entire stretch of someone's once-attractive property boundary, now disintegrated into dozens of individual pieces of plastic scattered along the roadside. Not a pretty sight, especially considering the dollars that went into its purchase and the dollars it will take to replace it. I wonder if they'll go vinyl next time.

I jotted a mental note of great relief that we chose not to go that route when we erected fence around our barnyard during last winter----wooden boards do much better with snow, and they thankfully keep horses in, even when the top boards are under the snow.

Bill pointed out lots of other stretches of wire fence---just like ours---needing a heap of re-stretching come spring. He also noted that Jim Taylor, our next-door neighbor, knows the secret of constructing fences for the deep snow in the Selle Valley. He puts posts about five or six feet apart. Except for a tree snag hanging over one short section, his entire barbwire fence is good to go for when he turns his cows out to pasture.

On our transfer station run, we also saw several prize mail/paperbox casualties--and a few more caved-in buildings. And, that poor mama moose that didn't make it at the Selle railroad crossing is now in complete view as opposed to a few weeks ago when only her hoof stuck straight up from the snow.

We came home, and, as usual, I kinda sighed, looking at that caved-in quanset straight ahead of us in the driveway. Later, I shoveled the snow off the ramps leading up to the deck where Bill had left them, hoping he could use those ramps for the snowblower to keep the deck clear for the winter.

That was a nice idea which proved futile during all those weeks of never-ending dumps (or should that be referred to as "moisture transfer from the sky?") Over time, the snow had piled up and frozen hard on top of those ramps. The resulting weight pushed on the ramps and the ramps pushed on the ends of the trex deck boards, causing them to bend downward. We're now hoping we can put some beams underneath to coax them upward again. Time will tell.

Lots to do, and today's run to Coeur d'Alene will help us get started with the long process of fixing all the stuff Mother Nature broke with her winter's wrath this year. Even though I'm not running in the St. Paddy's Day event in Seattle this morning, I'll still remember of the "luck of the Irish" and hope that it begins to change here at the Lovestead and for everyone throughout this winter-torn area.

One Annie Dog degree of separation

This is Annie Dog. She represents one degree of separation between us Loves and a family who will be enjoying their 15 minutes of fame tomorrow night. Annie originally came from the Chambers family, who tomorrow night will appear on "America's Funniest Home Videos."

Be sure to tune in at 7 p.m. PDT on ABC to see Chris, Kathy, Katy and Buddy Chambers and the kids' third-place winning video. Now, Katy and Buddy don't remember much about Annie Dog and vice versa, but I doubt that will make Annie or us any less excited to see our friends on TV.

I don't know if Annie plans to watch, but we will, and I've heard that if locals want to watch it on the BIG SCREEN TV, they can go down to Mc Duff's on First Avenue and join the Chambers family. Seems like Kathy said to show up at 5:30 if ya want to eat before the big showing.

This is the Saturday Slight, but I wanted to give top billing to the Chambers in hopes those of you around the country will remember to tune in to watch one of Sandpoint's fun families doing what they love to do: laugh.

I'm kinda in a hurry today because I've got to be down at Di Luna's by 8:30 to meet my former student and friend Sue Self Scully. She and her hubby drove up from Pocatello so he could participate in a big Trout Unlimited gathering here. I've heard tell that the former governor of Idaho, Cecil Andrus, is going to be speaking at the banquet tonight after meetings throughout the day.

While hubby is at meetings, Sue will be visiting with friends and family, and I'm honored to be among those. I featured Sue in the "Epilogue" of my book Lessons with Love. She was recognized three years ago a Idaho State Assistant Administrator of the Year for middle schools, and she invited me to Boise to watch the festivities.

I still remember the day we walked the sidewalks of Wenatchee, Washington, so many years ago after the Apple Blossom parade and talked about how she ought to consider a career in teaching. She was my drill team captain at the time, and she was mulling over the possibility of NOT going to college. Well, she DID go to college, and the rest is an impressive history as a teacher and administrator.

We'll do some catching up and I'll be sure to go say hi to the coffee cult. Have been absent from that gathering for several weeks, so it will be nice to see them.

Speaking of former students, I want to thank Sean Haynes, Class of 1991, for updating my webpage (www.mariannelove.com). New text about the new book and he got rid of that pitchfork picture of me in front of the barn, which was taken about 15 years ago. So, check it out. After several years in Seattle, Sean is now back in Sandpoint creating websites for Keokee Creative Group. Welcome home, Sean, and thanks. You're the best.

More snow this morning. I said bad words again last night when Tom Sherry gave the week-long forecast, which shows more of the same with maybe one day without rain or snow. I think we've endured enough, but Mother Nature disagrees. What's with her anyway?

Well, do have a nice Saturday, and do jot down the time and place to watch Annie Dog's former family on national TV tomorrow night. Then, you can boast to whoever wants to listen at the time, "I know the lady who now owns their dog."

Tax chip

Bill Gates, here's a challenge for you. Save us from the annual drudgery of assembling all those wadded up receipts, ciphering all those confusing totals and saying all those prayers that we aren't gonna screw up on our tax statements this year.

There must be an easier way to fork over our money to the Federal government so that the Feds can send it off to wars, refund it back to us so we can jump start the economy by paying $4 a gallon for gas or even hand some of it over to the banks who screwed up by lending too much money to people who were never able to pay all that money back in the first place.

Seems like the computer geeks could come up with an efficient chip to implant into the ear lobes of all tax-paying Americans whereby the tiny techno-brain, complete with spy camera, would automatically record every time we wrote a check, signed a deposit slip or even hid cash under the picnic table in hopes the Feds wouldn't find out.

This chip could monitor and calculate all our financial dealings automatically and then figure out, through computer wizardry, how much we owe the Feds and how much we get back. It could take care of the whole matter while we go about our business using our early spring months more efficiently by trying to figure out how we lowly peons can earn more money so we can pay more to the government to take care of financial scandals precipitated by the high and mighty.

This trend for higher-ups to do really stupid things with other people's money seems to be getting more and more expensive all the time as we witness these three-piece suit creeps, who screwed up royally, getting paid bigger and bigger bucks for their severance packages----all thanks to their failures and because the company wants to diminish the financial pain they've inflicted on others by getting rid of them.

It seems to me that we're educating our young upside down these days. To heck with those old notions most of us pea-brains have collectively tried to follow to make this country great: failure's in; success is out.

I guess it's time for a new paradigm in education-----did I use that word right? Let's start training our young to emulate those who steal, cheat, lie and betray because that's what makes headlines and that's certainly what makes big money.

Now, back to the tax statements. Bill and I waded through the 2007 receipts and forms over the past month and turned them over to the accountant yesterday. As with every year, the tedious preparation was a headache, and the headache will not end until Bev checks and double checks every total, questions every expenditure and uses her calculator to see what this year's punishment for our few dollars adds up to for the Feds.

Like any good American who scratches her head more every day in wonderment, I still want to do my part to help the government---but I want a simpler, more user-friendly way to estimate my annual "good money after bad" Federal tithes. Just thinking about the amount of clutter we could all eliminate from our homes by not having to keep receipts for five years would be incentive enough to consider a paper-free method.

So, on this pre-Ides of March morning, I'm sending out the word to Bill Gates or any other computer geek who's willing to take on the challenge that it's time to come up with a better government mousetrap for smacking us every April and snatching up our money to be used for the "good" of the people.

And, when you come up with it, I'll be first in line for the chip implant.

Thank you, Jim: Slightdetour Post No. 2000

Who'd a thunk this blog would have had 2,000 items to show and tell! Well, folks, today marks a milestone I never dreamed would happen. I have my brother, Jim, the cartoonist who long ago abandoned me, to thank for this blog's inspiration. Well, don't get any ideas. Jim and I still talk to each other---occasionally.

The idea behind the blog was to create a forum for him to get some exposure for his cartoons. Since then, he's been illustrating hang gliding calendars and articles in the hang gliding magazine. He's also been submitting his PUNishingly funny "Slight Detour" cartoons to The River Journal, the same paper where "Love Notes" runs monthly.

As mentioned in earlier postings, I figured I'd hang in with Jim for a few weeks, doing some writing, and then veer off my own direction while he continued to gain an audience. Frankly, I didn't think I had the self discipline to stick with it for very long. That's my nature. I'm one of those who enjoys the smorgasboard of life, always meeting new people, always looking for----well, slight detours from the mundane.

Now 2,000 posts later, I can't fathom life without the morning postings. Slight Detour has turned into a discipline and a passion. In fact, it seems like something very vital would be missing each day if I didn't sit down at my computer, wherever I am, and share something in my life or in my thoughts with an audience. I guess that's a journalism-addiction symptom: ya learn something, ya see something and ya've gotta pass it on.

So, thanks Jim, and thanks to Blogfather Dave. I've expressed similar appreciation to these folks before, but I want them to know that even at 2,000 postings, the excitement of this daily blog exercise has hardly diminished with time. If anything, it's gradually intensified since that first posting in early December, 2004.

I'm also thrilled with others who, after reading this daily journal, have jumped on the road way with their own personal blogs. I've got 'em bookmarked and check on what they're doing from time to time. Be sure to check their links, which appear to your right. In fact, one of them, Jenny of (www.mangymooseacres.blogspot.com) introduced me to "sitemeter."

Before sitemeter, I knew there were a lot of people peeking in on Slight Detour, simply because I'd start to tell them a story, only to have them finish it for me because they'd already read about it on the blog. Had that happen a couple of times yesterday, in fact.

Sitemeter, which is free and clickable on the right, lets me know generally who's checking in every day. Now, I don't take roll, but I am happy to see the regulars by their location. I know who some are; don't know others----or, at least, I think I don't know.

Someone from Louth, Ireland, is a frequent reader, and I'd love to know who you are. I see that folks from New Zealand, France, Poland, the Netherlands, England, Canada, Brazil, etc. have veered off the cyber highways and taken a Slight Detour. Thanks for stopping in.

Hard to believe what can come of a Thanksgiving holiday conversation and a book of cartoons. I appreciate all who inspire me to continue to do this every day, through your readership. It means a lot to know that you keep checking in. And, to those whose influence got the whole thing started in the first place, a special thanks.

Onward and upward: 3,000 slight detours, here I come!

March 12 reflections

The sky is a cloudless blue. That thick, white blanket of crusty snow hugs the ground with gritty determination of permanence. The weather forecast shows more of the same: 40s in the daytime, low 30s at night.

It's the season of sameness.

Politics are dirty. Snow along the roadsides is dirty. I even considered not writing today. I do that when it seems like there's not one iota of newness. As I reflect, however, and think about a nice dirt-road walk or bike ride during a sunny Wednesday afternoon, I can resurrect thoughts of old and "young but getting older."

It has suddenly dawned on me that there's a little boy over on the West Coast who turned 6 years old today. And, I wish him the happiest of birthdays. I also know this was the day 54 years ago that my mother and our new dad Harold tied the knot in Thompson Falls, Montana, and then drove around Western Montana snapping dozens of deer photos.

While they tied the knot and honeymooned, I stayed in town on Lake Street with the Crocketts. My brothers stayed with the Bests who owned a dairy just down the road from our North Boyer farm. I've written about both the Crocketts and the Bests in many past stories. I've also written about my dad. Only my mother remains among those elder folks in our young lives.

Harold died just months before they would have celebrated 50 years together. That was back in 2003. Today's blanket of crusty, stubborn snow still covers his grave down Selle Road at Pack River Cemetery.

I know if the snow were gone, Mother would be down there with a bouquet of flowers to place at his monument. Maybe Easter, or maybe even his birthday on April 12. Maybe just maybe, the snow will be gone by then.

I stood at Helen and Ed Crockett's graves the day their family gathered around to say a final good bye. We always called Helen's husband "Ed," but Helen always called him Edwin. Helen came to the hospital the night I was born, along with my mother. So, she's a special person in my life, and it seemed fitting that I would stay with her and Ed 54 years ago when my mother and stepfather were wed.

I really don't know where the Bests are buried, but I do know there's a "Baby Best" resting eternally not far from our little sister Jeanne Marie's grave at Pinecrest Cemetery. Every year we have to dig into the grass to find Jeanne Marie's nameplate, and every year Mother says we need to get a better marker for her grave. Maybe that can be done this year before we visit the cemetery on Memorial Day, and maybe the snow will be gone.

Maybe, that little boy on the West Coast who turns 6 today will have a great birthday party with no snow. And, maybe part of his celebration will include learning a little more about all the people who came before him and who were permanently connected in our minds because of a wedding on this March 12 so long ago.

$4,300 would go a long ways for us potatoheads

It takes news days like yesterday to remind us mere mortals--especially those of us here in little ol' Idaho---what small potatoes we really are. When we learn that petite, attractive little prostitutes in New York from the Emperors' Club can earn $4,300 while spending a mere three hours with a naked Empire State Emperor, we say "Well, gollee gee!" and a bunch of other stuff.

Us potatoheads get to ciphering and figure out that little Miss Kristin and her pimp raked in $1,433.33 an hour. Leave the extra penny on the bedside table to tip the housekeeper.

Well, gollee gee, I know that even my little pea brain could make $4,300 last a lot longer than three hours! Hasn't that public official heard about the problems with the economy? Couldn't he act more fiscally responsible, like a governor of a big state is supposed to act? Couldn't he shop around for a better deal? Gosh, from what I read Sen. Larry Craig plunked down only $300 for one of his trysts. Potatoheads know how to operate on a shoestring.

Then, I hear that evil, snakey-looking Jim Carville boast on TV last week that his campaign is willing to fork over $15 million if Obama's campaign would match them with an additional $15 million so they could run that vote over in Florida so Hillary could win another state. Thirty million dollars to rerun an election that everyone agreed wasn't gonna count until Hillary needed it to count---that made me go "Well, Gollee Gee" once again.

I'm thinking to myself that if they can talk about throwing around millions of dollars for a rerun election in one breath and, in all those other campaign speech breaths, passionately point out that they are the very ones who care so deeply about helping out the poor, starving people in the United States who can't put food on the table----why not save the money on the rerun and offer to put it where that other breath was pointing!!

I don't understand the dollars and cents of this country. I also don't understand the common sense or lack thereof among public officials who are supposed to be guardians for the good of all. Their lives seem too complex and definitely too expensive.

I do understand, however, that life below the radar screen for us peons, who have to sit back and watch, is a lot simpler and doesn't cost as much as it does for our politicians to keep up with their personal needs and chosen lifestyles.

When I think of $4,300 expenditures here at the Lovestead, I think fences, chain saws, lawn mowers, horses, new-old motorhomes----all together, we wouldn't need much more than $4,300 to buy that stuff. Any one of those items would provide personal pleasure lasting a lot longer than three hours.

When I think about that offer to throw out $15 million for what seems to be a rather frivolous election rerun, I can't help but think of how far that $15 million would go to improve our local schools or county roads or even all those sidewalks they want to see running through all the Sandpoint neighborhoods.

When I think of how much it costs to elect a President in this country, populated by a lot of people who can't put food on the table, I don't even want to think anymore. It's too outrageous to even try to comprehend.

For me, it's a lot easier, cheaper and just as satisfying to go plant something and watch it grow. As far as I'm concerned, potatoheads have it a lot better than those who would be emperors or emporesses.

Bareground in Boundary County

Doggies on the run in the Kootenai Valley, northwest of Bonners Ferry, Idaho.

Especially for my "far-better-Catholic-than-Marianne" friend, Denise H., who gave up solitaire for Lent and substituted it with daily doses of Slight Detour. Now that's keeping the faith!

The photo is the Kootenai Valley, north of Mimi's farm. Thank you, Denise, for your Slight Detour Reverence!