Saturday Slight and vanishing clothes

I just read a Yahoo headline about a Beyonce song that makes your brain itch. Well, that got my brain to remembering the latest take on life that I heard this week while sweeping the alley way in the barn. I've heard it only once, but, believe me, it made my brain itch and my funny bone tickle itself.

It's called "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off." Now, I'm sure country aficionados will pooh pooh my awareness of late and tell me this Joe Nichols ballad has been around for years. But I heard it for the first time this week, and I'm expecting to hear it a lot from now on. It definitely leaves an itch in the brain matter and conjures of some pretty wild images, which have appeared in its video, link listed at the bottom.

Lyrics tell about her handling champagne brunches with no probs, but give her tequila and watch out. She was heading out with the girls to have a margarita or two at the Holiday Inn, and he was afraid of what he was gonna see when she returned.

He figured she might come home wrapped up in a table cloth cuz as the night and the drinking went on, she'd lose her shoes, drop an earring in her drink and lose her contact down the sink.

The pantyhose would go if Bon Jovi started crooning, and her coat would stay in the bathroom stall. He's pretty sympathetic about her cuz she's just having fun and he knows her friends are gonna have some good stories to tell her the next day about some of the crazy things she did the night before.

Now, that's the song. I also checked out the video, and it's pretty dicy, especially with Grandma who comes home and crashes the party. So, clink that first link below, and you'll see what happens if the girls' night out involves too much tequila.

My favorite country song of late is Brooks and Dunn's "Cowgirls Don't Cry." I like it so much I almost cry every time I hear it. And, as of yesterday, I've got even more reason to love it. I read in the Appaloosa Journal that one of the horses featured in the song's video is Lily's half brother.

He's a gelding from Tennessee, sired by Lily's father, Zip's Long John, and the segment shows a girl barrel racing, only to have the horse slip and fall around the barrel. Of course, the rider didn't cry. And, of course, the song is true to a certain extent.

Cowgirls do their best not to cry whenever they hit the ground. I'm thinking of some of my great falls, and I don't recall a single tear. Instead, I just recall great pain and an instant desire to get back off the ground and climb up on that horse. I also recall sore body parts for days afterward.

In one case, I even got hauled off to the emergency room in an ambulance. When I got there, the worst injury was to my self esteem, as they pulled off my footgear and discovered I had socks that didn't match. Otherwise, I was good to go except for a short case of shock and insane comments made to the doctors. I never did cry.

Nonetheless, cowgirls DO cry when they lose their horses. They cry a lot and dump out some pretty heavy tears.

Anyway, the second link above is the video for the Brooks and Dunn tear jerker. And, believe me, if you've never heard it before and you love horses, it will cause your brain to itch.

~~~~~~
It is Saturday, and I must get moving on the day's projects cuz we've gotta stop what we're doing about 3 p.m. and tune in today's ZAGS game against the University of San Diego. They're now 15-4 and lookin' good.

As we turn over the calendar to February, a big thanks goes out to Mark Few and his Bulldogs for helping thousands of Inland Northwesters get through the worst of the winter months. They're the perfect tonic for cabin fever, and they've done a masterful job of keeping the fever down over the past few weeks.

GO ZAGS, and I'm goin' to the barn, hoping to hear about tequila, naked women and stoic cowgirls.

Happy Saturday.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqv-2emERFw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GyOQQvQL-W0

An Owed

Owed to January

I remember a few years ago when my friend Joy

gave me a book for my dad to read.

I remember a year or so later when Joy called up, and

she wanted that book back.

Now, I'd never ever asked for the book in the first place.

I was just a go-between who took the book from Joy to Harold.

I thought my responsibility stopped there.

Not with Joy. She wanted the book back and instead of calling Harold,

she called me.

So, I called Harold, who had no idea where the book was. He talked to Mother, who also had no idea where the book was.

That left me in the middle, like I've been a lotta times.

I couldn't bring myself to tell Joy that Harold had no idea where the book which she had wanted him to read and that he had read and put somewhere safe

was to be found.

I think she called me again with a stern Joy reminder that she needed the book and soon. I said I'd remind Harold---of course, buying time. I called my folks and told them Joy was hot after that book.

Again, they turned the house upside down, looking for the book that they never really asked for in the first place. They couldn't find it.

So, my mother went to the book store and ordered the book, which by that time, had made the hard-to-find book list, even among the booksellers. It cost a lot of money to get that new copy for Joy.

When the book came, my mother inscribed a note on the inside cover that began with "Owed to Joy, one book about . . . ."

She delivered the new book to Joy, so I felt good, finally escaping middledum of an uncomfortable situation.

Life went on. Joy had her book, and I learned not to take stuff offered from Joy if someone was gonna lose it. Joy was just that way!

I thought my mother's "Owed to Joy" inscription was pretty clever, so I'm borrowing from my mother's cleverness today and creating an "Owed to January." I won't take it anywhere cuz again what has been borrowed can get lost, and I won't go there anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owed to January

I owe you, January, oh so much.

I owe you sore muscles, sore thumbs and such.

I owe you thoughts of snow so high

I could toss a pie and hit the sky.

I owe you moments of utter disgust

when I went tumbling cuz of that snow's hard crust.

I owe you an apology for taking your name in vain

Cuz

this year you haven't been quite the pain

you've been in the past

as you always seem to last and last and last.

On this penultimate day of your 2009 run,

I must say that you've dealt me a lot of fun.

I've visited with good friends from all walks of life,

and I've been able to avoid a lot of strife.

I've traveled from one end of our county to the other,

and I've quite often been accompanied by my mother.

Unlike last year, she's escaped from her house

several times, and that's good

that escape she could

cuz she sure hasn't found too many reasons to grouse.

The snows of your month have not been so bad;

the weather of late has just made me darn glad.

And, I must say as you draw to a close,

I feel almost downright sad.

But don't get any ideas for this time next year

of thinking that on my list of months you'll always remain so dear.

You must prove yourself, dear January,

cuz way too often you're so darned long

that most people think of you in the same light

as a big ugly GONG.

Oh, January, I do thank you for being so kind,

and making this year's experience a good one in my hypercritical mind.

I doubt that there will ever come another time

when I sit down and write such crazy lines about January that rhyme.

But this year of good first-month memories has been one to behold,

so it's to you, dear January, that so much is owed!

And, when tomorrow---your very last day---draws to a close,

I'll welcome in February and probably stick to just prose!!!!

An afternoon with Erica

Erica Curless takes the oath of office to become an official member of the Lovestead Lodgepole Society.

She repeated the oath correctly, signed the log and became the second inductee
into the society for 2009.

For Erica's inner circle, please note the Red Feather snow shoes, purchased at the Alpine Shop in Sandpoint, Idaho.

I loaned them to her for her first-ever snow shoeing experience, and she highly approved.

~~~~~

We’ve visited only in snatches over the past few years---at weddings, funerals, the Spokesman-Review office, luncheons, and the county fair. We’ve exchanged emails too, but not until yesterday have we enjoyed a full-fledged, undistracted gabfest.

Erica Curless had never been to the Lovestead. Funny how we’ve lived here nearly three years and have experienced no late-night invasions with post-it notes and toilet paper.
Now that she knows where we live, I’ll have to live in fear of the next time her gang gets together.

For now, however, I’m savoring a fun afternoon spent here at the Lovestead with a former student, fellow journalistic professional and damn good friend. I threw “damn” in there cuz Erica sprinkles those words and a few other choice determiners into her conversation from time to time.

We drank coffee and talked.

We went snow shoeing and talked.

We looked at horses and talked.

We drove to my mother’s and talked.

I drove away from my mother’s and Erica was still talking to my sisters about a common passion---horses.

I learned a lot from my former student yesterday-----some stuff about the slimeballs of the world. After all, she’s encountered a few during her years as a reporter for the Spokesman-Review.

I learned about equine massage therapy, which she is now practicing and preaching after taking an in-depth course on the subject at Colorado State University last summer and fall.

I learned that horses are built like Volkswagen buses----the power works from back to front. In the case of horses, the right touch here and the right touch there can make a huge difference in their ability to perform as athletes.

I learned that Erica is now learning how to promote her newest vocation along life’s journey and that she’s gonna practice and preach massage therapy principles with dogs too. So, she’ll be an equine/canine lady with the right touch.

I learned good news and bad news about common friends who’ve been in our circle forever. And, I’m hoping the bad news will turn toward the better.

Erica learned a "how to" lesson from me her OLD teacher, but it wasn’t the teacher that made the difference. After all, if you can strap on a snow shoe, you can transport yourself with a snow shoe. She did okay for her first time as we walked and talked with dogs running circles around us on our way to the God Tree.

She signed up, and she’s now a bona fide member of the Lovestead Lodgepole Society.

Erica and I even discussed the possibility of teaming up as writing mentors for folks who want to write memoirs. Now that would be a thrill for me, and it would certainly complete the circle to have my student working alongside me.

I think I would be the benefactor more than she because she’s learned a “helluva” lot about writing for a public audience since her days with high school journalism and the Cedar Post.

We could be a pretty good team talking about writing because she loves people like I do, and she knows how to drum up a laugh or two from folks of all ages.

She’s especially wonderful with the elderly bringing them warmth, genuine interest and a dose of her vibrant take of life in general. I know she made my mother’s day yesterday. Erica has grown up, knowing that you respect your elders because she’s spent a lot of quality time with hers.

I thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon with Erica, and once again, I’m happy to report that it’s a blessing to have friends and former students like her.

Randy and Gail Curless, you “done” good with your daughter!

Thank you, Bayview

Bayview, Idaho. Photo from http://www.bayview-idaho.com/index.php

I figured I'd add this photo to today's collection. It appears on Bayview, Idaho's website, and it's a heckuva lot better than some I've posted below.

Last night I spoke at the Bayview Community Center during a meeting of the town council. I snapped photos of everyone in attendance----and snapped TOO fast in some cases. In fact, one was so blurry I did not post it.

Blurry photos aside, I had a wonderful time meeting some of the folks who work as stewards of the magnificent little community at the south end of Lake Pend Oreille next to Farragut State Park.

I'm hoping nobody complains about my borrowing this photo to show readers why it's NOT a difficult task to have to go to Bayview. As Bob from the town council told me last night, it's God's country. I've always thought that, even though I believe that North Idaho in general has received a special touch from God. He added frosting to the cake with Bayview---that's for sure.

Dr. Zak, the town council president, invited me to come and speak to the group last fall. I've known her for a few years and have spoken to her maybe three or four times. She's a retired university professor who specialized in education. She was working with student teachers through the University of Idaho when we became acquainted.

From the moment I met her, I felt like I KNEW Zak, as she is known by just about everyone. In fact, I was going to pose a question to the town council last night: what is Zak's real name? I have a feeling that not everyone would have been able to answer that, but that's not a problem.

I observed last night, both at Terry's Restaurant and at the meeting, that everyone in Bayview seems to love Zak. She's a magnet who draws people immediately and through no more effort than simply being herself.

Last night I talked about the experience of pre-editing former Gov. Don Samuelson's memoirs, in which he tells the story of bagging his first-ever deer near Bayview. Don came to Idaho from Iowa and served as the firearms instructor at Farragut Naval Training Station during WWII.

I also mentioned the controversial Universal Life Picnic at Farragut in 1971, which some have called "Idaho's Woodstock."

My talk also included a few anecdotes about twice weekly trips around Lake Pend Oreille starting from Bunco Road. My partner Chris Moon Hengstler and I spent time in Bayview during those days but more time in Lakeview, directly across the lake visiting with John and Carol Bertoni. And, of course, I told the story of how I met Bill when he was working at the Boy Scout Jamboree in 1973. And, of course, there was the greatly satisfying experience of writing a Sandpoint Magazine piece about the WWII naval recruits.

For me, it was a fun evening, heap full of nostalgia and pure pleasure at having the opportunity to meet the friendly folks who help keep Bayview a place to behold.

Thanks, Zak, and all those who extended such gracious hospitality last night. Plus, Bayview Herb, it was nice to meet you in person! He's a fellow blogger, by the way!

Bayview Town Council officers

Mr. Prince of Bayview's Chamber of Commerce

The Chase continues . . . . and other twitterdum

I think Chase Mikkelsen flies to Seattle tomorrow. His bags are packed in hopes that after Sunday's tryout for the brand new Seattle Sounders Soccer team, he'll be chosen for the remaining roster slot and will get to fly on to Los Angeles where the team will prepare for its March opener. Everyone who knows Chase has the same hopes.

His tryout involves ten candidates chosen at different Washington sites, and it's been organized as a reality-show event to air and happen right after the Super Bowl this Sunday. I don't know the details on where it will air, but I know that Sunday is Chase's big day.

He's the son of Rik Mikkelsen who taught math at Sandpoint High School for years and Jeannie Mikkelsen who's been working with my hubby at the Idaho Department of Lands for a number of years. Chase has an older brother Jason and a younger brother Halvor. All three have been soccer standouts.

All three are proud and fully engaged in their dual Gros Ventre Indian and Norwegian heritage. In fact, I know for sure that both Chase and Halvor have played soccer in Norway.

There's still time for the voting portion of player selection, so I'm once more posting the link where you can go, register, read about the candidates, see their photos and some videos and VOTE FOR CHASE.

Please pass along the link to whoever you know who would be willing to help in this effort to do everything possible to support Chase's quest for this coveted soccer spot. Thank you, and here is the link: http://www.soundersfc.com/Article_noheader.aspx?id=3068&languageid=1033

~~~~~~~~~~

You walk in, and you meet one of former Sandpoint Bee publisher Pete Thompson's grandsons, a very nice young man named Ty. You see a fire going in the stove, and plenty of tables located near its warmth. As you sit down, and peer out the windows, you're treated to the beautiful views of mountain peaks surrounding Clark Fork.

Ty tells you more treats will come in tomorrow, but for today, there's Marionberry pie and sour cream lemon cheesecake, Cyrus O'Leary individual pies, no less. The coffee's normal stuff, far from exotic and no crankcase flavor. It was a coffee shop, but now Mom's Restaurant on HWY 200 across from Hay's Chevron Station is just that, a restaurant owned by a couple of moms.

We met one of the moms yesterday. Her name is Maggie, and when I listened to two sentences coming from her mouth, I knew she wasn't from Clark Fork. So, I asked her.

"I'm from New Jersey," she told me, adding that wherever she's gone, that Jersey accent has gone with her. I asked her from where in New Jersey. She said mid-New Jersey. I told her my brother and his family used to live in Alloway.

"I was born in Alloway," she announced with a smile.

Mother and I had gone for a drive on another bright sunshiny day. I told her I'd always driven by the coffee shop but had never stopped---until yesterday.

The whole experience was a treat. We found out Mom's Restaurant serves all the favorite burgers and sandwiches, breakfast and pizza the way you want it. Plus, they'll have those Cyrus O'Leary individual pies on hand, along with that good coffee.

The experience got even more interesting and fun when one of my dad's Pend Oreille Sports Shop Saturday morning yakking buddies came in: Bobby Kennedy. Our whole family has known Bobby most of our lives. I used to ride back and forth to the University of Idaho with him. My older brother graduated with him.

I know why my dad enjoyed visiting with him; he's got one liners that will put you on the floor, but you have to meet Bobby to experience the real deal. He works in his shop at Hope welding and sees no reason to go to Sandpoint these days.

Bobby's dad Fred owned barges and did a lot of work on Lake Pend Oreille, including hauling the old base hospital from Farragut to Sandpoint. It served as the community hospital for years afterward.

Anyway, Mother enjoyed visiting with Bobby, and we both agreed that the visit to Mom's Restaurant will have to be a must-go on future drives along the north shore of Lake Pend Oreille. Truly a treat in many ways.

~~~~~~~~~
I've been meaning to mention that since installing a sitemeter on Slight Detour about this time last year, the visits surpassed 50,000 over the weekend. No. 50,000 was someone from Pennsylvania looking up a posting I wrote about three years ago about a Wal-Mart pepper spray incident that occurred one evening at the Ponderay store. For some reason, that posting and my best damned pumpkin dessert, period postings have generated a lot of interest.

It's been fun having the sitemeter, and, at times, helpful. Also, it's nice to know that about 125-150 people visit this site almost every day. Thanks for your readership. It is much appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~
I'm not nervous yet, but I know the usual jitters will start taking over this afternoon as I drive to Bayview to speak to the Bayview Community Council. When I think of where Bill and I visited over the weekend, yesterday's trip to Clark Fork and a trip to Bayview, I must say that my eyes are on overload for scenic beauty.

It's a tough job living here and having to enjoy it all, but someone's gotta do it.

Happy Tuesday to all.

We walked the dike

Pardon me for getting carried away with snow shoeing shots, but we enjoyed another outing yesterday, filled with imagery and reminders of how insignificant we humans are in the grand design of nature.One always gets that feeling when visiting the Kootenai Valley, near Bonners Ferry.

Its magnificence is indescribable. Its rich soil produces premium grains, rich alfalfa and hops.The Kootenai Wildlife Refuge, the Ball Creek Nature Conservancy and a plot of Fish and Game preserves provide ample opportunities for recreationalists to just plain get lost in it all in one of the most beautiful places on earth, any season.

We drove there yesterday in hopes of catching some of the brilliant sunshine which dominated a very cold day. By mid-afternoon, however, the Selkirk Mountains, west of the valley block out a large portion of the sun's rays. Nonetheless, we made a brave but in vain attempt to chase it during the first portion of our trek from west to east across the valley and along a dike which once kept flood waters out of the farmland----before the construction of Libby Dam.

The trip was filled with a myriad of artistic but frigid sights, including the cold, cold waters of the Kootenai River rippling from the wind. And the

We've been so fortunate this winter to actually enjoy some benefits of this season rather than working all the time and wishing it would go away.

Thank you, God, and Mother Nature. You've been good to us!

Winter sports mecca

Except for dead batteries in the camera and dead replacement batteries in my pocket, our trip to Gamblin aka Gamble Lake yesterday turned out to be great outing. We also discovered that the pretty little lake at Glengary appears to be its own unique mecca for winter sports.

We went snow shoeing, following the designated trail through part of the woods and then setting off along the lake shore.

Later, we came back out onto the lake and made our way toward the island. Bill estimated that we traveled 2-plus miles, not as many as last week's uphill climb to the Grouse Creek clearcut, but still a good workout.

I stumbled after catching the tips of my snowshoes on crusty snow a couple of times. In fact, the photo with the cattails below was taken from the ground. I decided if I had to lie there, I'd get a good angle.

During the time we spent in the area, which has been set aside and maintained by the Nature Conservancy and the Bureau of Land Management, we saw a bicycler pedaling his way around the lake, we met up with folks doing some ice fishing, we saw kids playing hockey, we saw hikers and even a lady leading a horse along the road near the shoreline.

Gamblin Lake is a pristine spot not too far from Martin Bay at Glengary near the end of the Sagle Road. From the lake, one can see part of Dr. Forrest Bird's farm, inventing facility and air museum. Dr. Bird, inventor of the Bird respirator, et. al., received national recognition from Pres. George W. Bush at a White House ceremony a few weeks ago.

The area is breath-taking, and yesterday's scene (if only my batteries would have lasted) reminded me of something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Very nostalgic with the ice fishing huts and a perfect setting for cold-weather recreation.

Saturday Slight

We were supposed to have a snowy weekend, but last night Tom Sherry issued some good news. The snow will fall south of us, the skies will be clear, the wind will blow, and it will be cold.

That's okay! Bill and I are both pleased to know that our lives "after shoveling" continue. I don't know how long, but every day of simple enjoyment of a tame winter is a good day.

And, if it gets cold enough, maybe we can just walk across the top of the snow without snow shoes and without sinking in. I always enjoy such times because it opens up many more possibilities for taking walks with the dogs.

~~~~~~~

This is the week with a jillion birthdays, it seems. Let's see---who all can I remember celebrating their special day? There are my classmates Janis, Robin and Andrea. Happy birthday to each of you. And, there are my former colleagues Nancy Miller, Dick Sodorff and Bev Chapin---happy birthday to each of you.

Also, my Lincoln School teacher Frances Fredstrom is starting her 97th year, I believe. A very happy birthday to Mrs. Fredstrom. And, to anyone else whom I may have missed---enjoy your day!

~~~~~~~
We went to McDuff's for our usual Friday night out last night. I cannot recall too many other times that I've seen the town so filled up with cars. Usually, Bill and I drive past the hospital, turn on to Second Avenue and park by the old Post Office, now a title company, and walk across the old Safeway (now a medical building) lot to First Avenue.

Last night, we had to keep on driving. When we entered the City Parking lot, we had to keep on driving through the complete lot before finding a spot. Knowing we were late, we hoofed it through the crowds of walkers over to McDuffs to meet our friend and my former student Mitzi Hawkins.

It was a celebration of sorts to revel in the fact that Mitzi is here to stay. This past week, she began working for Litehouse, Inc. As one who has watched and appreciated Mitzi's journey through life since her high school years, I'm thrilled that she has been able to come back home to live, work and contribute to our community.

She's a gem in every sense of the word. As we visited last night, I couldn't help but think of a day more than 20 years ago when three former students--from the classes of 1978 (Mitzi), 1980 (Steve Neuder) and 1982 (Jeralyn Lewis Mire) and I spent together in Los Angeles.

And, when I say "day," I probably should edit that to approximately 26 hours, which included almost two hours of sleep. My mother and I were headed to Mexico City to visit my brother and his family. Mother headed off from the airport with one of her lifelong friends from Michigan, while Mitzi and Steve picked me up to start our whirlwind tour.

We visited the Comedy Club, we walked the streets of Hollywood, we stayed a few hours at either Steve or Jeralyn's apartment. Jeralyn and I went to 6:30 Mass before visiting her horse, which she had boarded at a stable somewhere in that big place. Then, we all met at Disneyland, where we spent 12 hours, taking in every scary, stomach-altering attraction available.

I don't know how I survived, but I did, and I know I slept well that night after Mitzi deposited me at my mother's friends' house in Van Nuys.

That was 20-plus years ago, and it's still a great memory, but what is even greater is that all three of these remarkably talented, people-oriented and dedicated homegrown products have returned to Sandpoint after living phenomenally successful lives elsewhere as professionals and as human beings.

We are so blessed to have them all back in this community, with Mitzi at Litehouse; Steve, at the Lutheran Church as assistant pastor; and Jeralyn, at Sandpoint High School where every day she makes dramatic differences in kids' lives as a guidance counselor.

Another of the myriad of examples that I can cite as reminders of the joy of teaching. Such pride and satisfaction stays with us forever and only gets better, as exemplified by our dinner out last night.

~~~~~~~~
Fishing Mecca: That's what I learned about Sandpoint this morning as Bill read me an article from a Fly Rod and Reel magazine. In the March, 2009 issue----we can't figure out why he's already reading the March, 2009 issue, but he was----a writer from Ennis, Montana, ranked Sandpoint as No. 9 among the top ten places to go fly fishing.

Maybe that's why there were so many people in town last night. Maybe they read the March, 2009 issue and figured it was fishing time----well, they'll have to wait. Actually, it was the skiing film festival at the Panida that seemed to be the big draw.

There is plenty of ice fishing to be had around the area, though.

~~~~~~~~~
From the Jan. 23 Chicago Tribune: Luke Song's Detroit hat shop has been flooded with requests for the hat Aretha Franklin wore while belting out "My Country 'Tis of Thee" at President Barack Obama's inauguration.

The 36-year-old designer told The Associated Press that the gray, felt hat with a Swarovski rhinestone-bordered bow was hand-molded and would cost upward of $500—if it were for sale.

Song, whose custom-designed women's hats have been mainstays among Detroit's stylish churchgoers, was not prepared for the requests from women wanting the same hat worn Tuesday by the "Queen of Soul."

I have an assignment for our own resident "hat-wearing queen," Mary Faux. I'd like her to find a way to finagle one of those hats and wear it to the next Women of Wisdom Luncheon. It may be out of season, but she's guaranteed to be a hit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And THE CHASE IS ON: voting continues through the next several days for everyone's favorite to be selected as a team member of the Seattle Sounders Soccer Team. I'll keep posting the link and encouraging folks to pass the word and help Chase realize his dream. Tryouts are next Sunday, Feb. 1 following the Super Bowl.

So, take a few minutes, go to the site, register, read about Chase, vote, and spread the message. http://www.soundersfc.com/Article_noheader.aspx?id=3068&languageid=1033

Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally, it's a "GO ZAGS" day as the Bulldogs take on Loyola Merrymount tonight, and I've received word that my dear friend Jeff Bock will be there donned in all his totally-committed Gonzaga-fan glory. Jeff, be sure to wave if you see a camera----and GO ZAGS!

Happy Saturday!

A simple wish

I heard it for the first time while driving home from town the other day. At first, I thought I probably had heard it wrong. Then, the singer crooned the line again.

It went something like this: Oh Lord, let me be what my dog thinks of me.

Not a bad goal, I thought.

Then, I got to wondering: what DO my dogs think of me? What do my horses think of me. What do my cats think of me? And, Lord, what about my family and my friends?

I can answer some of those questions. Others, I have no idea.

I think my dogs like me. I get that impression every time I'm outside tripping over their bodies and telling them, "Ya know, there's 20 acres here. Why do you have to take up my space?"

Then, I feel bad cuz I know they love me. They tell me so several times a day in many ways that only dogs can express: licking my hands, jumping on me, smiling at me, running alongside me every step of the way wherever I go.

I think there are rare moments when they're not happy with me. That's when I call them to "beddy bye."

"Beddy bye" means they must come to the garage and stay there with the door shut because I'm taking off in a vehicle and won't be back for a while. I don't want my dogs outside when I'm gone because I worry about their welfare. When they're in the garage, I know they're okay.

And, whenever I return, they make up for any amount of disdain they may have felt after hearing that door close and knowing they were stuck in there for a while as SHE went off by herself WITHOUT their smiling faces and wagging tails accompanying her.

Now, when I think about the horses, I'm figuring the emotional attachment I have for them may be stronger than theirs for me. I think they trust me, and they may even like me, but I think they generally view me as a means to an end: hay, grain, grass, treats, freedom, etc.

Like the dogs, however, whenever I leave and come home, they're just as eager to greet me. They know the Lovestead rigs, and the instant I turn into the driveway, they come trotting from wherever they happen to be and stand at the fence to issue the horse "Hello, don't waste your time inside, get out here and feed me some more" greeting.

Still, they're good friends and companions, and I can't imagine life without a horse or two around---even if they ARE hayburners, fence chewers, hourly poopers, etc.

When it comes to the cats---well, we all know the independent minds of cats. It's really kind of hard to read a cat, although my mother thinks she can read her cat Rowdy's mind. She says Rowdy's been telling her lately that he wants to go to Ruth Ann's. He does so by getting in his cat carrier several times a day.

This is the time of the year when Mother takes Rowdy to Ruth Ann's little styling shop at Ponderay for his annual coiffure. Mother swears Rowdy knows the calendar date, so he's been hinting to her a lot lately.

Yesterday Mother made an appointment with Ruth Ann for early February. Once there, he'll get every strand of his fluffy hair combed and she'll give him a bath. This year he doesn't have big tags to remove, so it will be an easier job for Ruth Ann to do her magic at making Rowdy feel like a million dollars.

And, surely, Rowdy will thank Mother and Ruth Ann a million times over.

I've never seen a lot of gratitude from my cat herd. I do know they like humans because we have salty skin and that's good for licking. We have bodies to rub against, and we have laps for drooling while purring.

We also keep those dishes of Meow Mix and water full, and we're pretty good about changing the kitty litter box fairly often. If we don't, they let us know their thoughts by leaving a kitty poop pile just outside the box.

Now let's talk about the humans----family and friends. I wonder just how many people from these groups think of me like my dogs do. I have a distinct feeling that I would really NOT want to know that answer.

It's pretty darned hard reading the true emotions of humans, although I'm fairly confident that in some cases that they couldn't care less whether I lived or died. In others, they're nice only when they want something.

Often, in these cases, they haven't got a clue that I know they're being nice just cuz they want something, and that I'm tempted to point that out, but I also figure that getting along with them beats the alternative, so I go along with their intermittent niceness.

In other cases, family and friends' outward emotions are pure and positive, and their sincerity just plain make syour day---just like the dogs. Still, we wonder what we could do in some people's eyes that would make them think of us like our dogs do.

Of course, if they start wagging their tales, taking up our space in a 20-acre field and start licking our hand, that might kind of cool the relationship.

Oh, the complexities that crazy song lyric has awakened in my mind!

I guess I'll just have to move forward, pat people on the head, feed 'em when they need it, throw a frisbee or two for them, take off running alongside them, occasionally tell them, "Good human," and hope that some day everyone will think of me as my dogs do.

What a goal! Not a bad one to work on.

In "THE CHASE IS ON" category, Annie just sent me the link below. You can go to it, register and vote for Chase. She says you can also click on his picture, read about him and see a video.

We would very much love for Chase Mikkelsen of little ol' Sandpoint, Idaho, to win a spot on the Seattle Sounders Soccer team next Sunday, Feb. 1.

So, if you could pass along the link to all you know and encourage them to vote for Chase and to continue passing the word, that would be wonderful.
http://www.soundersfc.com/Article_noheader.aspx?id=3068&languageid=1033

Thank you so much. He has worked hard for this goal and is very deserving.

Back to business

Yesterday, I got back to work after taking some time out reveling in all the Inauguration coverage. My list of "things to do" included sending a card to a friend, completing the usual barn chores, planting things and assembling the set of shelves I purchased from Home Depot the other day. Plus, I had a meeting to attend.

I've decided to rejoin the group, Women Honoring Women, after taking about five years off. My friend Kathy has continually encouraged me to come back, and this year, she has assumed responsibility as coordinator of the organization, which, each year, selects a small group of women to honor for their lifetime achievements in the community.

This is the 11th year to select Women of Wisdom, and, so far, approximately 60-plus women in our area have been honored at the annual festive luncheon in June. With a new decade, the event is taking on a new twist, moving itself to the new Panhandle State Bank Financial Center atrium. Other than that, the program sticks pretty much to its basic format, which is designed to ensure that each 65-plus-year-old honoree feels like a "queen for a day."

I told Kathy I'd give it a try this year, so it's kind of fun to be back in the group. Last night we watched an impressive video recapping images from the first ten years. The memories of such positive moments for deserving women inspired excitement about yet another group of honorees.

Besides the meeting, everything went pretty much according to my list yesterday----except for the assembly project. I bought the shelves for the things I've been planting---already in January. I figure marigolds and daisies are a good bet for this early in the year. Besides, my Burpee seeds have not yet arrived in the mail.

I learned last year that planting some items too soon is not a good idea, so I'll hold off for a while on the cukes and cantaloupe. One of my friends told me she would be planting her peppers last week, so I guess I'll be planting peppers and tomatoes will be among the next round, when the seeds come.

The shelving standing next to the sliding glass door will hold the young plants until it's safe to use the greenhouse. I figured it was a good idea to assemble it soon before I clutter up every window sill in the house with assorted pots, dribbling too much potting soil and water overflow.

I brought the box of parts purchased from Home Depot into the house, set it on the island and looked briefly at the directions, figuring I would figure it all out pretty much on my own. I have no patience reading directions, just like I'm not really good with recipes.

"Get it done" is my motto. Read directions, only when necessary.

First, I pulled out all the metal parts and the shelves and laid them in respective piles. It all seemed easy enough as I began to build from the bottom up. The first level of assembly went surprisingly well.

"Piece of cake," I thought.

Moving upward, I noticed a lot of give and take on the corner frames. Lean to the right, straighten it out, lean to the left, straighten it out. Just keep putting it together and don't get mad, I reminded myself.

When I tried to stick the shelf in the second-level assemblage, I noticed my second problem. The shelf would not fall into place. I stood back and noticed that the framework did not quite match up on all corners. So, a readjustment here and a readjustment there, and I was able somehow to shove the shelf into place. Still the structure swayed.

I just figured it needed to have all four stories to gain an equilibrium, so I moved on up the frames.

After beginning on the third story, I stood back and looked for a moment, only to discover that the second story tilted off to one side. That wouldn't be good for watering plants. I also noticed that I'd misjudged the proper distance between shelving.

When you're growing tomatoes and they want to expand to ten-twelve inches, that could be difficult with shelves just six inches apart and leaning off toward Nellie's. Plus, there might be a little framing left over at the top of the structure if the shelves are not equal distance apart.

So, I gritted my teeth, put aside level three parts, once again urged myself not to get mad and returned to the second shelf, adding several inches to its height. I also stood back a few times and made sure all four corners were on the same plane.

Moving on to Level Three, I noticed the couplings had to go on the four corner frames so that I could add the next length of metal frame. I also noticed that the four corner frames also had little holes for matching up something in the assembly---and those holes were not in the same location. That meant that I had probably used the wrong frames on the wrong corners.

Figuring it probably didn't make a lot of difference, I picked up a coupling and a hammer and tried to attach it to a corner frame. It attached, but the continued swaying back and forth was fast becoming a bit unnerving. I knew I wasn't doing it right, but my determined mind said it was gonna work, come hell or high water.

Well, hell came really fast, cuz as I was trying to stabilize the swaying frame, one of the shelves and its support system crashed.

Usually I'm more persistent. I'll keep at it, regardless of how desperate things turn. Sorta like when you get a loaf of Friendship bread out of the oven, remove it from its pan and only half the loaf comes from the pan. You carefully scoop out the other half and try deperately to patch it together, knowing full well it looks like hell.

Well, looking like hell was the only way to describe my shelving project. My assembly efforts terminated immediately, followed by big swift kick aimed at what was still trying to stand.

I was real careful with the hammer in my hand, mustering up every ounce of self control to simply lay it on the counter. Picking up the pieces, I put 'em back in the box, carried it all to a spot in the garage and said out loud, "Bill can do this."

Later, after cooling off, I removed items from another set of shelving in the garage, moved it to the sliding glass door and filled the top shelf with pots full of daisy seed.

I go through life reminding myself to stay away from assembling projects and sets of directions I know I'm never gonna read. Somehow, though, there always remains a glimmer of hope that this time, it will be different.

Well, hope was dashed one more time yesterday, and Bill now has another project. The good part is that my analytical husband LOVES to read directions, so maybe I've done him a favor.

In the meantime, my baby plants are happy, and so am I.

Inaugural images and thoughts

Again, a heartfelt thanks to my former student, Bryant Jones, for sharing some of the scenes he has witnessed in Washington, D.C. during the past few days. One photo above shows a freeway closed off for the Inaugural; there are the crowd scenes, the final helicopter ride for President Bush, and, of course, a subject dear to my heart: potty johns----in this case, potty chairs.

Having been inside a honeybucket once at The Festival with two naughty adolescents peering down at me through the vent, I wonder how many people were a bit reluctant to use the facilities. I'm guessing, however, that Mother Nature's calls far exceeded modesty in that setting.

I'm continually honored by Bryant's willingness to do this for his ol' teach. His efforts are typical of this "on-the-go, forward-thinking and thoughtful" young man.

Over the past decade, he has vicariously taken me along for several rides while serving as student body president at the University of Vermont, traveling to China to teach middle school students and, most recently, living in Washington, D.C., finishing his Master's Degree at George Washington University and working as an aide for Idaho Congressman Mike Simpson.

I am greatly indebted, especially because Bryant, like so many of my students, has provided me a window to the world, right here at the Lovestead in little ol' Sandpoint.

Well, the Inauguration is over, and I probably sat in front of my television for at least seven hours off and on throughout yesterday's coverage. I had received an invitation to go watch at the Panida, but opted for staying in the privacy of my own home where I could hog the remote, surfing from channel to channel, especially at commercial time.

C-SPAN offered the purest form of watching history---no commercials, no constant chatter drowning out the music. Still, I switched back and forth because of my need to know what was being said.

A lot of what was being said had been said a million times before, but when you have millions of eyes watching a single event, that in itself is unique. Bill liked the early morning edition where the ladies from "Luzianna" sang their own Obama-laced rendition of "Jumbalaya."

Later, just as the limousine pulled out of the White House to take the President and the President-Elect to the Capitol, my phone rang. My first inclination was not to answer, but I looked at the caller-ID, and saw that it was another former student---a 44-year-old who had never voted in an election until this one. He was so moved by the day that he just wanted to connect with someone.

He had to go to work but had taped the Inauguration and planned to watch snatches of it at work. He also knew I didn't want to miss anything, so he kept the conversation short. Still, it was a profound moment to me, knowing the impact this day was having on so many people. I was honored that he had shared his thoughts.

As far as observations of the goings on, at first, I thought Aretha Franklin's hat was a bit much, but eventually, it kinda grew on me. Loved her stirring and strong rendition of "America." I thought the poet's words were magnificently simple but profound and well-delivered.

The oath----well, like Navajo blankets, there's always got to be a flaw to make it genuine. Overall, I thought the words uttered throughout the entire ceremony, ranging from Sen. Dianne Feinstein to the little ol' gentleman who delivered the benediction, were appropriate for each situation.

The musical arrangement with "Simple Gifts"? Wow! Exquisite and a touching remembrance of what means the most to all of us in this world----simple kindness, generosity, thoughtfulness, respect for others. Age old but always appreciated more than anything materialistic.

Another friend and I discussed Michelle Obama's ensemble and agreed that it seemed more evening-related than what we would choose for the daytime festivities. But that was our opinion, and we're far from fashion experts.

I loved watching portions of the parade and was amazed that people could continue that overpowering cheering throughout. I'm glad President Obama and the First Lady were able to walk the route without incident. Speaking of the First Lady, I don't know who could have been enjoying the festivities more than her brother, the Oregon State basketball coach who was appropriately adorned with an orange and black scarf.

This morning, the celebrations and parties have ended, and the work begins. For one day, however, it was uplifting to once again be reminded of the great traditions this country has as it transfers power from one administration to another. I think they did it well yesterday, and it was, indeed, a day I'll never forget.

Again, check out (www.inauguralafoot.blogspot.com) for Sandpoint resident Chris Bessler's saga of his family's daily foot tour through the Inaugural events.

The Day Has Come

We all can vividly remember days in our own history and in our country's history when something profound, something transformational happened, something that would affect our lives forever.

Sadly, many of those days were marked by tragic, unspeakable circumstances---the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Sen. Robert Kennedy, 9-11-2001.

Today marks a moment in America's history, filled with collective hope, pride, and high expectations. I pray it goes well and that we remember this day Jan. 20, 2009, as the day we turned a page and reveled in the rebirth of our American ideals.

My 87-year-old mother will sit in her living room, watching every moment. She has called this the most significant historical event of her lifetime---for the nation and the world---which includes the Depression, several wars, assassinations and 9-11.

I will sit in my living room, watching every moment, more than likely getting choked up with emotion frequently, and I agree with my mother's assessment of this day.

Having been told by her employer to stay home for the Inauguration, my daughter will sit in her Seattle living room, watching every moment. We all agree, and we all feel deeply about the significance of what we will be watching, along with people from around the world.

The first words I heard when I turned on the TV this morning were "It gets to your heart."

Yup, I agree.


Below is my dear friend Bryant Jones' compilation of his weekend experiences in Washington. Thank you, Bryant.

Hey Marianne, Samuel L. Jackson said during the opening Inaugural Ceremony that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream has come. What has also come, on January 19, were the crowds! If this is what 500,000 people look like I am not sure I want to see what 2 to 4 million people will look like.

The crowds did indeed come to the kick off event, which was aired on ABC and available free from HBO. As I am sure one would assume, there was lots of anticipation and excitement in the air. People moved smoothly through lines, gates, and checkpoints.
The primary modes of transportation this weekend are Metro, walking, biking, or rickshaw. I rode my bike downtown to join the other half million folks who came to see the star-studded ceremony kicking off three days of Inaugural events. The concert started promptly as advertised at 2:30 in the afternoon. Bono, Tiger Woods, Josh Groban, Steve Carell and Jamie Foxx, Jon Bon Jovi, Shakira, Usher, and Sheryl Crow were just a sample of the dozens of celebrities who spoke or performed at the ceremony.

Garth Brooks rocked out to "American Pie" and was quickly joined by the crowd. Tom Hanks echoed the words of Lincoln, "We hold the power and bear the responsibility." Vice President-elect Biden spoke about the respect and dignity we should feel as Americans. Challenger, the bald eagle and symbol of our country's freedom, came on stage flanked by members from each branch of our nation's military.

After two hours of songs and speeches honoring George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Abe Lincoln, the President-elect walked to the center of the stage to address the crowd.

"Despite the enormity of the tasks that lie ahead, I stand here as hopeful as ever," he said.

The crowd erupted with muffled applause because we all were wearing gloves. Some people chanted Obama's name or yelled, "Yes we did." It was a very patriotic event; I even forgot that how cold it was standing outside for hours. The D.C., Maryland, and Virginia National Guards blocked off dozens of downtown roads and two main bridges into Virginia were closed.

There were plenty of jumbo screens so everyone got a good view of the ceremony. I am off to dinner with my roommates. We are having chili tonight to warm us up from the cold day.

Hope all is well,

Bryant

For other on-site reporting by the Bessler family of Sandpoint, you can visit (www.inauguralafoot.blogspot.com).