Iz your bottom covered?

One of the classic lines of my own private Idaho Huckleberry history was uttered by my mother many many times when we were little urchins in the mountain berry patches along the road, now leading to Schweitzer Mountain Resort or even sometimes clear up past McCormick Meadows on Baldy Mountain.

"Is your bottom covered?" she would ask the bunch of us while plucking away berries from her bush just a short distance away. Of course, the whole forest heard because, of course, sounds carry a lot better out there in that place where people still haven't figured out how to answer the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

That ponderance ranks right up there with the chickens and their road crossings.

Well, Mother's pondering of whether our bottoms were covered confused me back in those days. I'm kinda one dimensional. Some folks might call it "anal," and for this topic, it's perfect. I would simply turn around look at my rear end and see that, indeed, my pants were still there and yell back, "Mine is."

It was years later that it dawned on "dumb older me" that she meant the bottom of my berry bucket. And, it was even years later that I understood the term "Cover Your Ass." For all those early years in the huckleberry patch, I thought mine was doing quite fine, thank you.

Well, yesterday if my mother had been with us up there beneath Lunch Peak in the breath-taking Cabinet Mountains while we were picking our share of this year's bountiful crop of huckleberries and if she had asked early on in the picking if my bottom was covered, I could have had a new twist on how to respond.

"Mine is," I could report to her, "and it's all purple.

Yup, before enough berries had landed in the bottom of my bucket for the age-old huckleberry-picking milestone, I had sat smack dab in the middle of a bush loaded down with juice-filled purple berries, and upon getting up from that spot to head to the car for our next huckleberrying/geocaching stop, I could feel telltale wetness back there on my rear end.

And, there was enough hints of several stains that I was wishing for something to "CYA" in case anybody came driving down the road to see that I had turned into an Appaloosa. Yup, they like those spots on Appaloosa butts, but for 62-year-old women, purple splotches on the butt don't look so pleasing.

"Oh well," I thought. "I'll do just like I did back at Sandpoint Junior High when I didn't want the other 600 students at the school to know I was the lone seventh-grade sap who got sent to school with seamed nylons. I just walked backward a lot. I also figured up there in the Lunch Peak area there wouldn't be too many people passing by.

I figured wrong. Lunch Peak area was crawling with "TURists," as Bill calls 'em. So, I had to sit and choose carefully my times for walking down the road. We saw people on 4-wheelers, motorcycles and in cars all along the way.

We even got a taste of snobbish, unfriendly attitudes from two out-of-state visitors while driving the rough last stretch of road leading to Lunch Peak.

To say the road is rough understates the situation significantly. Big sharp rocks, gullies and huge holes keep drivers alert while maneuvering that segment, and so when the overzealous outsiders showed up on my tail (the car, not the purple bottom) and wasted no time passing me, I formed an opinion.

Then, when we saw them up at the lookout and I commented on their Border Collie and that we had two in the car, he almost started telling me not to let them out, but he thought twice and said, "I guess they can play." The dogs all sniffed each other and went on about their business.

Usually when you meet other Border Collie owners, there's instant friendship. These people wanted no part of canine/human camaraderie or even an institutional "Hi, how are ya?" interchange.

It always strikes me as odd that when we're in the remotest of places, where God has bestowed supreme beauty that people can't shed their snobbery and enjoy sharing the moments.

Lunch Peak is hardly a place where anyone's gonna rob you, accost you or bring you any form of misery-------except maybe unfriendly souls, I guess. It's too bad that such attitudes are seeping into our area.

All along the way, everyone else was nice, considerate and generous with their friendly waves and quick visits. In fact, we saw one of my photography instructors, Clarence "Tyke" Van Dellen. Clarence used to teach photography for North Idaho College. He and his wife Linda were out with family members enjoying the day. When I saw them coming, I remained seated and picking alongside the road where the bushes had huge berries.

Wasn't gonna let them see my purple butt.

We had a nice conversation about 88-year-old mothers living on their farms. Linda's the same age as I. She hails from Culdesac, and her mother drives a 4-wheeler around her place while mine drives a golf cart.

Bill and I picked a little over a gallon of berries, and I had to pry myself away from our spot, which would not need to be kept secret during this year of ubiquitous berries. Had daylight lasted a bit longer, I'm sure we would have picked another hour or two. It was getting late, though, and we had a bumpy road to drive back down off the mountain.

Since arriving at their new home, those huckleberries have gone on ice cream last night and into pancake batter this morning. Later today some are gonna end up cobbled for dinner tonight.

I'm still trying to figure out what besides SHOUT can get those purple stains off the bottom of my jeans. Any ideas?

One of those days when we can . . . .

They seem to come fewer and farther between, so I made the most of this one. I'm speaking of days where large blocks of time are available for doing whatever I choose for as long as I choose.
Those days are nice. Yesterday was one such.

Often, when given such gifts of time, we waste a bit of it because we're so shackled to the notion that "I must be jumping up to go do something!" Then, it dawns on us. Nothing urgent, no big responsibilities.

It took me a while yesterday because I did rush around a bit early in the morning. Willie would be heading down the road for Boise. He left before 6 a.m. He's doing some moving this weekend and will be back Tuesday with a car load of school clothes.

After his departure, I went about my morning schedule of feeding horses their grain and then leading them one by one to the hayfield pasture, which I've been saving for as long as possible. Horses get bored in the same surroundings, even if there is food.

Alternating them between the front two pastures has kept their tummies full and avoided a fair amount of reaching through the fences, but my horses see green grass on the other side, and they want it. So, yesterday they got the ultimate treat, that big hayfield. Hopefully, we'll get some rains soon, and it will keep them happily munching for the next few weeks.

After horse chores, I went to get the papers. They weren't in the boxes, so I took the opportunity to walk down to Selle Road. It's getting a makeover these days. By mid-September, the bumps, cracks and pot holes will be nonexistent with a new, smooth coat of asphalt.

Some people like it. Some people don't. The folks who live along Selle Road say that motorists will just drive that much faster, and they already zip down the road too fast. Those who use Selle Road for through traffic are gonna love it because the arterial has kept people pretty honest for years with its rough surface.

Lately, that's been enhanced by the dozens of speed bumps formed a couple of weeks ago when the county put in new culverts all along the way. Pulling a horse trailer over those speed bumps was challenging at best.

Anyway, I saw yesterday morning that the project is progressing along nicely. A roller and a water truck were out in the early morning hours packing the surface.

By the time I got back to the house, the papers had come. So, I read both editions and remembered that Sen. Ted Kennedy's funeral would be broadcast on TV. So, I watched it and that's when I realized there was no real hurry for anything on this Saturday morning, allowing me to sit back and take in the whole event.

I guess those of us who have watched Kennedy funerals over our lifetime have, in an oddly morbid way, gotten accustomed to such things. They're major productions, always touching, sad and mesmerizing. We don't know these people, but through history and the media, we feel as if we do. After all, we've grown up reading, watching and hearing about Kennedys for as long as we can remember.

I was struck with how we, as a nation, have taken Sen. Ted Kennedy's influence somewhat for granted because, unlike his brothers, he was always there. When I started hearing of all the legislative bills he authored or supported over those decades, I was pretty amazed that he definitely was a work horse in behalf of those not so privileged as he. I was also impressed with the day-to-day thoughtfulness he extended to his friends and to perfect strangers.

He definitely had his faults, but in this human existence it would be nice if the good things we do can outweigh the sins. It looks as if Ted Kennedy worked hard to overcome his darker days.

When the funeral coverage came to an end, I figured I'd lounged enough on the couch, so I went outside and started on some yardwork. Then, the rains came, not bad ones but wet. Bill was still planning to take in another day of fishing in Grouse Creek before the season closes.

It seemed like a good time for me to drive up to Bonners Ferry and the Boundary Trader to do some shopping. I can't find my double mocha cappuccino mix here in Sandpoint, nor has Yoke's had the decency to re-instate Meadow Gold French vanilla ice cream, so I go to the Trader for those supplies.

I figured on doing some major grocery shopping and hoped that on my return, the rain would stop and allow me more time for yardwork. It was a nice drive to Bonners Ferry, as always. I parked and went to grab my purse.

Hmmm. No purse.

Having a purse is helpful when one wants to shop, especially in a distant town. I groaned for a moment or two and then figured I was lucky to have some cash in my pocket so I could at least buy that ice cream. Well, I had $40, so my purchases of three cartons of ice cream, two double mocha cappuccinos and one block of Tillamook cheese added up to $26.

There was change enough for a cookie and coffee and some left over, but certainly not enough to have done any major shopping. That will have to come, I guess.

Twas a nice drive back, and the sun was shining. I enjoyed a leisurely late afternoon of lawn mowing, necessitated by the major dead leaf deposit throughout the yard from the wind storm the previous day.

Heck, I even took some time to make some coleslaw from one of my garden cabbages and to watch Little Jimmy Dickens on the RFD channel's Ralph Emery Show. Bill came home and said he'd had a good time catching about 25 throw-back trout in Grouse Creek.

I think we both enjoyed our day because we could do any ol' thing we pleased. And, days like that are gifts!

Happy Sunday to all. May you have an "any ol' thing you want to do day."

Saturday Slight

Bill and his Danish guest Praden Palsgaard stand below our God Tree---an unusual and beautiful Lodgepole.

This photo of the God Tree seems appropriate for the moment.

I'm too touched by the funeral of Sen. Ted Kennedy (they're singing an old, beloved Catholic hymn right now) to write.

So, I'll come back later and post more after watching this poignant page of American history.

Our first International inductee into the Lodgepole Society.

Praden is visiting the United States from his native Denmark.

He spent the week touring the area with Bill and visiting forest-related businesses, sites, etc.

He joined Bill for lunch at the Lovestead yesterday and, of course, got inducted into the society.

Praden is representing Denmark in a European timber sports competition soon. He is a good friend of world-renowned timber sportsman, Carson Bosworth, who grew up in Bonners Ferry.

Hope you enjoyed your visit to the Lovestead, Praden.

Bill and Praden at the God Tree

From seed to spectacular bursts of beauty

Nasturtium splendor

Manure spreader spray

Bratfest 2009

Yesterday was brat day at the county fair. It's a tradition Rose Marie and I started about five years ago. Rose Marie moved up to Sandpoint from San Rafael, California. She and her husband Jim Thompson have "retired?" to a farm at Wrencoe.

Rose Marie and I are outlaws. That's cuz we're connected to people who are related. Rose Marie's husband's sister Mary is married to my brother Mike.

Mike and Mary, by the way, are in Breckenridge, Colorado, attending his West Point Company F4's reunion. He called yesterday and said they were having a great time reconnecting with his company classmates from 1966.

I told Mike to tell Mary that Rose Marie and I were going to the fair for our annual bratfest. And, before I get off the subject of outlaws and back to brats, I must congratulate some more outlaws associated with the Brown-Thompson connection.

I saw in the paper this morning that Chris (Mary's younger brother and my SHS classmate and Rose Marie's brother-in-law) and his wife Judy are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary today. Pretty cool, and congratulations.

Now to the brats. I used to tell Rose Marie about the brats (smothered in sauerkraut and mustard) when she would visit up this way before her permanent move. We lived close to the fairgrounds at the time, and Bill would give me a few bucks and send me to the fair to purchase his brats. He loved 'em. I loved 'em, and they became as much a highlight at the fair for us as elephant ears are for other fairgoers.

We were talking about elephant ears yesterday at the my hair zapping session---how when they first came out, they cost about a dollar. Now, they're $4 or $5. That inflation has caused a certain amount of complaining, but I know the other story to go along with the elephant ears.

The Beta Sigma Phi features them every year, and then in the spring, they give away some hefty scholarships for high school seniors. So, whenever you see people at the fair nibbling on an elephant ear, you know they're contributing to someone else's education.

Now the brat folks and their booth are a private concern, but we don't care. We just use the brats as an excuse to go sit down together on a bale of straw, catch up on a few outlaw updates, watch people go by, talk to people who go by, and bat the damn bees out of the way so we can take the next bite or grab a sip from the soda can before one of those annoying critters dive bombs inside the hole and drowns.

Yesterday we talked to Jack Filipowski who was wondering at the time where his wife Colleen and daughter Jennifer were. We told him we'd seen them in the main exhibit building. Then, I asked Jack if he showed his Herefords at the fair. He did, and he wasted no time telling me he had shown the grand champion overall cow. That meant she beat out the other breeds.

Jack lives down the road from us, so we're pleased to know that we have champions on South Center Valley Road. Speaking of champions, I must take another slight detour and congratulate the grandparents, parents and the owner of the grand champion steer at the Bonner County Fair.

Jean Luc Albertson of Huguenin and Albertson clans will be selling his champion steer at the fair. And, his cousin Tanner Roos will be selling the reserve champ. Good going to all family members and their respective outlaws.

And, one more thing about that family network----if my green bush beans at the fair had to get a second place ribbon, I'm thrilled that first place went to my dear friend Denise Huguenin.

Denise and I have enjoyed many phases of life since we met on the bleachers at our sons' Little League games. From baseball to sending the peace sign across the altar during Mass at St. Joseph's to playing in the garden dirt---not a bad chronology for a friendship.

Well, back to the brats. Rose Marie and I enjoyed our annual get-together and then headed back through the main exhibit building where she was bound for the antique tractor display and I, for my car. Along the way, we met up with lots of people including Idaho State Rep. George Eskridge who was promoting a Republican guy from McCall who's running for Congress against U.S. Congressman Walt Minnick.

I said they probably wouldn't want to talk to me, with my Obama sticker still on my rear bumper. Then, someone asked me if I voted for George. To which I said proudly, "Yes."

Then, I announced to the crowd that I voted for all our Republican state legislators and still voted for President Obama. Then, I jokingly asked, "So, what does that make me?"

My outlaw friend, Jim Thompson, brother of Mary, brother-in-law to my brother Mike and husband of my outlaw friend Rose Marie immediately quipped a response appreciated by most in the crowd.

"Mixed-up," he said.

On that note, I figured I'd better head to my car and go home to fix dinner for the two men at my house.

So, as usual, it was a fun day with the brats. My outlaw friend Rose Marie and I will, no doubt, do it again next year.

Car trouble on a country road

The mechanics are doing well by the Love family lately. A few weeks ago Bill had the loose steering wheel on the gas guzzler pickup fixed. It's been so loose for years that every trip down the road involved "Hail Mary's" that we'd be able to steer it back home.

Now that it's steering wheel stand stays firmly in its socket, the only thing that twirls is the wheel, and that's a good thing.

Now that the steering wheel is safe, we have one more hazardous situation to fix---the driver's side door. I know the day is coming where, just like our van of years past, we'll round a corner, the door will fly open and with the steering wheel no longer coming with us, we've got trouble.

The door will have to wait, though, for the next infusion of funds into the "Fix-it Coffers." Meanwhile, God is still hearing those "Hail Mary's."

Now, Willie had too much on his mind to mumble "Hail Mary's" all the way up from Boise yesterday with his car that had just the opposite problem of our gas guzzler pickup. His steering wheel didn't want to move. So, he knew his arms would get a little tired, and he took the car to the shop.

The mechanic needed a part and a payment of $850-plus dollars to get it fixed and running by the 3 p.m. Boise time deadline Willie had given him. Willie needed to get up here and get some pre-planning done for his classes, so he gave a deadline. Apparently, the mechanic met it because Willie's red Taurus is sitting out here in the driveway, and I can hear rustling upstairs as I write.

He got in sometime after Late-thirty.

I told Willie in one phone conversation that he was not alone in having car troubles. Actually, Annie had beaten him to the punch last week when her clutch started giving her major fits. She got lots of stories on how it could be fixed or couldn't be fixed, but finally someone fixed it, to the tune of $1,000.

Well, not to be outdone, I guess our Jimmy wanted to be part of the fun. Yesterday I took my mother and my sisters to the Bonner County Fair. We had a great time, and Mother enjoyed seeing a lot of folks she knows, along with several exhibits.

I also discovered in our rounds that my tomatoes earned a red ribbon, so my earlier ASS-U-MPTIONS of winning "one stinkin' ribbon" were unfounded.

When we left the fairgrounds, we could hear a dull roar in the back end of the car. It was intermittent. When we arrived at Colburn and had gotten Mother back into her house, I walked toward my car and saw the reason behind the dull roar. The tailpipe was hanging at an odd angle.

We all agreed that I'd be getting a new muffler. I said I'd get the car home, and we'd decide from there what came next. Well, after driving carefully down Center Valley Road, I rounded the corner onto South Center Valley. That's when any thoughts of a dull roar had immediately escalated into big thumps. A few seconds later, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw clouds of smoke trailing behind.

I stopped the car, parked it close to the ditch (the road is being used as a detour route while Selle Road is being prepared for paving). The tailpipe had become lodged between the tire and the car frame. There was no moving it from that position. I tried once with a rotten stick. When the tail pipe moved a fraction of an inch, the stick broke.

So, I got my keys and flagged down the next car. Since I was more than a mile from home, walking was not an efficient option. A neighbor picked me up and dropped me off. Then, I climbed in the 4-wheeler, drove back to the car and retrieved my groceries and purse. I wanted to move the car off the road, but thoughts of completely ruining the tire told me to leave it there.

Later, Bill came home, and we spent 45 minutes with a crowbar and hack saw trying to dislodge the tail pipe. Finally, we just removed the tire. That tailpipe has been in sad shape for some time, we discovered. Today we may be able to get in to have a new muffler installed.

Anyway, car repairs among our family in the past few weeks have amounted to approximately $3,000, and I guess we should be thankful. Maybe we should have done the clunker thing, but somehow I think we're still money ahead of that program.

Whatever the case, we can be proud that we're helping the American economy by putting our money in someone else's pocket. Plus, we're still getting to where we need to be.

Today, for me, it's to the hairdresser for the bi-monthly ZAP and to the county fair to meet Rose Marie for our annual BRAT. Both are good for the soul, and they don't cost nearly as much as the transportation to get there.

Here comes Willie downstairs to get his car rolling down to the school, hopefully to see his classroom.

Happy Thursday.

Fast forward to fall

The signs are everywhere. Fall is on its way. I don't know of a season that has a more pronounced transition than this one, leading into the months of September through December. We can find the tangible clues in every form, it seems.

Cold, crisp morning air

Dry, warm afternoons

Sudden chill when sun dips behind the mountain

Dried-out lawns with a new daily smattering of dead leaves.

Overloaded apple-tree limbs kissing the ground; can't mow under the apple tree anymore

Droopy sunflowers no longer smiling

Scurrying, visiting, sittin' back and watching, eating elephant ears, lining up, competing, beaming with pride, complaining---and a lot of other "ings" at the county fair.

Grass grubbed down to the dirt in pastures

Once beautiful plants suddenly refusing to react to watering or any other kind of nurturing, for that matter. They know their end is coming---why prolong it?

Petunias and marigolds sporting their best show of the year.

Bees and bugs pestering wherever other critters will allow it

Announcements of high school games shocking the heck out of us that it's that time again already.

Chainsaws in distant forests, sawing wood for winter.

Tomatoes turning color in clumps on the vine; what a pretty sight until too many 'maters turn at once, turning suddenly generous humans into zucchini mode. Where is that same generosity when they've picked 10,000 huckleberries?

Back-to-school sales beginning their second month.

The aforementioned leading to Wal-Mart waves, and they aren't all friendly!

Plopping in front of the tube by 8 p.m. instead of 9 and knowing the new seasons of "Dancing with the Stars," "The New Old Christine" and "The Office" are soon to come---but we must figure out who we Americans have for Talent will be first.

Talk of NFL and college pre-season rankings

Bountiful summer dinners---new potatoes, beans, corn on the cob, fresh garden salads, cold cucumbers mopped in honey mustard, barbecued hamburgers dressed with cheddar and yummy sweet onions, maiden homegrown watermelon from the manure pile before the field mice eat it.

Baseball winding down and knowing those Mariners have an uphill climb, ten games out.

Linda Hunt's call for SHS teacher geezers to show up at her house for the annual "Ha-ha, we-don't-have-to-go-to-school" hors d' oeurves and gossip party.

Today, a new sign---our son saying good bye to his colleagues at one job and coming home in hopes of finally turning the key to his classroom door and to his new career.

Yup, fall is coming and coming fast. Best season of the year, if you ask me. So, bring it on!

Happy Wednesday!

Buffered Carrots and All's Fair in Love and Losing

I should have taken a picture of my lovely carrots, but I was too busy trying to meet the deadline to get all my produce down to the Bonner County Fair. Entries closed at noon, and I'd spent twenty minutes with a dish towel wiping away the dirt and putting a smooth waxy-type polish on my entry of five carrots.

The instructions called for five carrots, not washed but cleaned. So, I did my best. When I put my glasses on, I realized there was more to do, so I rubbed even harder to get rid of those pockets of dirt that love to cling to carrots.

The results netted a rather attractive set of fat, straight and spit-shined carrots to add to my oregano, onions, tomatoes, jelly, hay flake, cookies, marigolds, Annie peace rose, cantaloupe, and watermelon.

No, I didn't spit on my carrots but I sure rubbed them almost to death to get 'em clean. I also carefully clipped their tops to add a unifying factor to my carrot presentation.

Then, I got accused of purchasing my produce for the fair at Yoke's. That accusation came after I had finished judging----not creative writing, as planned but hobbies. One never knows when one doesn't return the judging request what they'll do to get you back.

This year I'm sure I never responded to the call for me to judge creative writing. It wasn't by design. It was just a busy summer, and I'm sure that letter sent to me back in the spring went unanswered. But that doesn't matter when you need fair judges.

I got my official judges' packet a few weeks ago. It went in the pile after I opened it and read that I was, indeed, signed on to judge creative writing. I never looked at it again until the night before last cuz I needed to know what time to show up at the fair.

That's when I saw the page-long set of rules for judges----dress clean and neatly, don't tell horror stories from one fair to people at another fair in the next county, don't express your personal opinion on anything---not even that you sure do need to go to the bathroom.

Be patient with unexpected turns of events. Don't be a clock watcher. Clock watcher? How can you be a clock watcher in the main exhibit building at the Bonner County Fairgrounds. They don't have clocks.

By the time I got to the end of all the judges' rules, I wondered how long the list was for the exhibitors. I never could find the rule in the fairbook where it said to bring TWO jars of jelly and not just one.

And, Bill thought the ladies were being facetious when he took my jar of apple jelly to them and they said, "Next time bring one for you and one for us." Translated, that meant to bring two jars of jelly.

I didn't get the message on that rule until last night when the ladies told me they tasted my jelly and put it on display, but "next year bring two jars."

Anyway, back to the judging. I showed up yesterday clean and neat, so clean and neat with hair combed that Gail Curless, who serves on the fairboard and who had to judge 1,400 giant zucchinis, said, "Gee, you look nice."

To which I said I thought I was supposed to look nice. Gail, dressed in shorts and blouse, said she hadn't heard about "the rules," and as long as she was gonna have to be there, she was gonna be comfortable.

All the sudden those dress shoes were feeling even more uncomfortable. I changed to my tennis shoes and then went to the office to see if I could get out of the judges' orientation.

Monica, also a fairboard member, told me I could and that since I was judging creative writing I could come back any ol' time during the afternoon, so I went home and changed into comfortable clothes---still clean and neat though.

When I came back, I was told the creative writing judge had already started. Well, since I thought I was the creative writing judge, I was a bit puzzled. Rhonda said she thought there would be more entries so she got two judges. I said the other guy, Harvey, could do it by himself since there were just a few.

So, Rhonda said, "Why don't you judge hobbies?" I could have told Rhonda a lot of details about why I shouldn't judge hobbies---like all the white ribbons I got in 4-H for anything that had anything to do with manual dexterity---but Rhonda wasn't buying. She needed a hobby judge.

So, off I went to the hobby place, where they even had hobby horses to judge. They had ornaments, they had needlework and leather crafts and carpentry stuff and even some neat metal work. I judged soap and cards and dolls and wood burning and train displays and wooden chests. Fortunate for this judge, most of the stuff was in a category of its own.

A couple of times, however, there were two items in a class so I had to make decisions. And, that's when I faltered against "the rules." I did my thinking out loud, and that was bad. I didn't know how bad until I opened the exhibitor's tag for the second place item---twice---and there was the superintendent's name. And, across the table the superintendent was giving me a hate stare that only my mother could rival.

I have complained about being put in this situation at previous county fairs. The worse one up until yesterday occurred when Rhonda asked me at the last minute a few years ago to judge the wine. Now, that's a good job.

Well, at least it is until you sip on some wine, several sips into judging, and a wine entry doesn't quite measure up to standards, and by that time you've gotten loose in the lips and your lips, along with the other judges' lips utter merciless comments about said wine--------------which, you guessed it, belongs to the superintendent.

Not a pretty picture. And, yesterday it happened again. I keep saying that people who have entries to be judged should excuse themselves during judging, but nobody ever listens to me.

Well, yesterday, I do think the superintendent may have found it in her heart to forgive me, but I bribed her anyway. Now, that's a switch, isn't it? The judge bribes the contestant---not to inflict bodily harm on her for uttering questionable comments in the heat of judging.

I gave the superintendent one of my books where she can learn firsthand that I know very well how to lose and lose a lot. Lord knows, my whole 4-H experience way back when taught me that.
So, you'd think that I, at 62 years old, should have learned how to lose gracefully. No deal. I went last night to see how I had done with my produce and all that other stuff I DID NOT BUY AT YOKE'S and, by golly, I had one stinkin' ribbon.

Heck, I didn't even get a ribbon on my cookies, and it didn't look like the judge even took a bite out of them. Could be I didn't follow the rules and added white chocolate and butterscotch chips to my chocolate chips. Gotta follow those rules!

It was sitting under those buffered carrots, and Lord knows, I'll bet someone will find a reason to take that one measley prize away from me, especially after that Don Chapman told everyone on Facebook that I bought my produce at Yoke's.

Thanks, Don.

And, that's why the fair for Love just hasn't gone according to plan. To think that two years ago, I was griping cuz they kicked me out of the Main Exhibit Building because I had my dog on a leash---the same dog I'd purchased at the Bonner County Fair a couple of years before.

When it comes to "All's Fair in Love and . . . " some things just don't add up, especially for me! :)

Late, breaking news of ribbons: Well, it seems not all ribbons had been placed on items when I checked last night. Turns out better than expected---blues on carrots, marigolds and cantaloupe. Reds on beans and watermelon. White on oregano. A fair day's work, for sure! Terry Burnham, our former neighbor had one honking watermelon down there; congrats to Terry!

Monday, Monday

~~~Laurie and Lily at yesterday's Bonner County Fair Horse Show~~~

The show lasted a little longer than Saturday's English version, but we were still leaving the fairgrounds around 3 p.m., which is highly unusual for a horse show.

Still, it was a fun day. Mother came and got to see the horses in their Western performance classes. They did well, winning ribbons in almost every class.

Lily shied at a barrel in her first class and seemed a bit rushed. After that, she settled down and did fine. That might be because she knew her trainer was there watching.

It was a relaxing day with lots of old friends hanging out at the show.

Later, delicious frybread came to the Lovestead, thanks to our friend Jeannie Mikkelsen. She also brought a copy of the spring edition of NIEA News, the award-winning publication for the National Indian Education Association.

This particular issue features a cool cover photo of Jeannie's son and one of our Sandpoint soccer player extraordinaires, Chase Mikkelsen. Inside is an article about his decision to play soccer in Norway.

To see it, you can go to http://www.niea.org/media/Spring%202009.pdf

After Jeannie visited and inspected Big Blue, Bill and I took part of my entries to the fair. People were impressed with my Walla Walla sweets, and one of the superintendents told me I may have the only watermelon in the fair.

I still have more stuff to gather from the garden and have to get ready to go judge creative writing, so I'll just wish everyone a happy Monday.

Scout strutting his stuff with Laurie at the lead.

Laurie and Barbara leave the arena after a friendly competition between their
two horses, Scout and Dusty. This time Scout won. Last week Dusty won.

April does it again. Barbara accepts the trophy for Grand Champion Mare
at the Bonner County Fair Horse Show. April has won the distinction for about the last nine years.

Blink! It's over

Usually it's hurry up and wait. That's standard for going to a horse show. Let's take last week, for instance. The Kootenai County Fair Horse Show started at 7 a.m. That's when we left Sandpoint.

We arrived at the fairgrounds just after 8. More than three hours later, after riding her all over the grounds, I finally rode Lily into the arena. Laurie rode the next class, so we scrambled to get me off, change the stirrups and get her on. Then, it was hurry up and wait, and some nice time spent visiting at the trailer. We did that routine twice during the remaining two classes for Lily.

So, with the Bonner County Fair Horse Show, often one of the bigger shows of the season, my sisters figured they had plenty of time yesterday to do some errands in town during the morning, then get home, load up April and haul her to the fairgrounds for some late afternoon classes.

Upon completing their errands, they stopped by the fairgrounds at 11 a.m. to pick up their numbers. April was in Class 18. Class 16 was in the ring. Colburn is ten miles from the fairgrounds. Oops!

The show ended around noon.

For some unknown reason, over the past couple of years, the powers that be keep changing the dates for the fair horse show. And, this year the fair begins a day early, the day after the fair horse show. So, it's likely some people are still thinking it's over Labor Day. It's not.

And, others are too busy getting all their other animals and projects ready for the fair, where entries for open class close at noon tomorrow.

Anyway, that put a damper on the usual well-attended fair horse show, cutting the numbers of entrants and surely cutting the amount of time folks usually expect to spend there.

Yesterday's "blink and you missed it" show meant a change in my plans yesterday. Because of all that extra time, Laurie suggested that I ride Lily over to their place to have her bath and to stay in their barn overnight.

I had my cookies baked and had figured out all the other fair items (just have to pluck 'em and clean 'em), so I figured it was a great opportunity for an afternoon ride. And, that's just what it turned out to be.

A gentle breeze on a sunny late August day provided the perfect conditions for plodding down South Center Valley Road and turning on to Center Valley Road toward my sisters' place. Lots of people were taking stuff to the Transfer Station aka the dump. Our road provides a back route for that.

Lily had some good experience at staying on her side of the road without falling in the ditch as pickup after pickup drove by, loaded down with cast-offs. On Center Valley Road, the Wood family was putting up another crop of feed, this time oat hay. That meant hay loader trucks and tractors going up and down the road, providing Lily some unusual sights for her eyes and plenty of rattling metal.

She passed the test, and behaved like a lady when Steve Wood climbed off his tractor on the road and came over to visit. Steve thought she was doing pretty well for a young 'un, and so did I. We had a nice conversation until his tractor started rolling down the hill, slowly, of course. He climbed back on, went on his way while Lily and I did the final stretch to Tibbs Arabians and the wash rack.

Today she's supposed to be in three or four classes, and as the clock moves closer to the 8 a.m. starting time, I guess I'd better scurry on down there, so I don't miss the fast-forward horse show.

So, happy Sunday to all. I'm off to the fairgrounds. Hope I make it in time to do a little hurry up and wait.

Saturday Slight

~~~Mr. Love~~~

You're looking at the new adviser to the Sandpoint High School Cedar Post newspaper.

William E. Love III has signed a contract. He's been finger-printed, and he has his ID card for Lake Pend Oreille School District 84, where he'll begin his teaching career Sept. 8 as a journalism instructor/newspaper adviser.

He says it's going to be difficult getting used to being called "Mr. Love."

Willie interviewed for the job in early July (I snapped the photo before he went off to the interview) and received word the next day that he had been selected.

He's been up to Sandpoint twice this summer and has met with his high school newspaper staff on each visit.

As parents, we're very proud and excited for our son. As a mom who held the same position at SHS for seven years, I'm still in disbelief with this ironic twist of events---but thrilled.

Good luck, Mr. Love.

Nice to have another teacher in the family, and it will be fun when Willie, Debbie and the grandpuppies are settled here in Sandpoint.

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

This is "get ready for the fair" weekend. Yesterday Barbara was showing me the photos she has selected to enter in the photography competition. Laurie was fast at it with her beadwork project, and I spent part of the afternoon, looking over my garden, deciding what to enter. My list includes a watermelon, cantaloupe, parsley, green beans, carrots, oregano, a flake of hay, zinnias, dill and my giant Walla Walla sweet onions. I was glad to see that only three onions are required for the exhibit. I'm hoping they fit on the plate.

The cookie competition continues. A few years ago Jenny Jacobson Meyer and I decided to compete in the cookie category at the fair. She had the edge on me. Last year her daughter Grace continued the good-natured competition, and we're going to go at it again this year. We're not really competing, but making sure each other shows up with cookies.

Grace told me yesterday that she's planning to bring peanut butter cookies, along with some other stuff, including some artwork. I'll probably stick with my Toll house variation, which is never the same because I don't follow the recipe.

Good luck to Grace and your cousin Riley in all your fair activities. We'll celebrate when it's over.

~~~~~~~

Lily's going to the horse show again tomorrow. This time it's the Bonner County Fair Horse Show, which starts today. Laurie will ride Barbara's horse April in a couple of English classes today. They'll show three horses at halter tomorrow morning and Laurie will be riding Lily in the afternoon Western classes.

I told my sisters that all I'm gonna do this time is sit back and watch. I'll take Mother to the show tomorrow, and Lily's trainer may come up to see how she's doing. Am really looking forward to a relaxed version of a horse show as a spectator, for a change.

~~~~~~~

Lots of stuff to do to get ready for all the upcoming action, which includes the horse show, judging and competing at the fair and welcoming Willie once more next week for a few days while he works in his classroom.

Life is good. May yours be also. Happy Saturday.

Oh yeah, Helen, I haven't forgotten you. Just haven't come up with a date yet. I'll call soon.

Blue Beauty

~~~The children's book is coming: Big Blue's Quest toward Beauty~~~

I honestly don't know if we've hit the end of the story as summer draws toward a close and as Big Blue finally attained some semblance of beauty.

The story could turn into Blue Beauty and the Beast if Stan and Geneva Meserve's cautionary telephone call yesterday develops into anything.

I had just come in from checking the pool and happily patting myself on the back that finally, finally I had done the job right.

The phone rang.

It was Geneva.

"Stan's worried that the moose may have gotten into your pool," she said. "Is your pool all right?"

Little did Geneva know the WHOLE story since the story she had read in the most recent River Journal. So, I had to tell her about the big rain storm last week and how the buckets of water caused the pool to overflow its banks and how water flowed everywhere and how it was like a dam/damn disaster---however you want to look at it.

She hadn't heard about the tree toad invasion or the mud puddles or my inability to empty the mud puddles and how I tried to fill it again only to have it overflowing its banks once more just as I was leaving for town the day before.

"A moose?" I inquired, thinking to myself, "That's all Big Blue needs."

Geneva told me that Stan had discovered two clean breaks in the barbed wire and electric fence between his pasture and ours. Then, Stan joined our telephone conversation and told me that he had found a break in the fence down by their big cottonwood tree, not far from our pool area.

The Meserves were genuinely concerned that Mama Moose (I don't know how Geneva knew it was a female) had discovered our pool and may have been bathing in it.

I think they decided that when Stan had gone by with his 4-wheeler with fence-fixing materials and had observed the misshapened, flattened-out mess lying there over the fenceline.

I assured them that any pool problems I had were generated by the operator's inability to fill the pool properly.

But then I told them of my most recent success and how the pool would now have more water (ouch, on that water bill) than ever before because I had taken the time to put the bottom seam in the right place and and leveled out the pool platform some more.

My only concern---as we talked about possible moose-pool invasions and field mice being the naughty culprits who ate the entire interior out of one of my manure-pile watermelons---was that strange things do happen in my life, and now that I have finally mastered Pool Filling 101, a moose could come in the night and stomp on my parade.

"Oh well," I said to my next-door neighbors, "if it happens, my children's book will be that much better."

We hung up, I shook my head, thinking of the possibilities and went out several more times during the early afternoon to see that no four-legged creatures had come for a swim on the blistering hot afternoon.

Long about 3:30, I climbed the ladder, said hello to two tree toads still taking up residence in small pockets beneath the pool rim and took a refreshing dip in the cool, deep water. Bill came home from his hike later and did the same.

If a moose came to visit during the night, at least we got one decent swim out of our Blue Beauty before its walls came tumbling down one more time.

Later . . . .and now later

I'll be on the road during blog posting time. Willie's flight back to Boise leaves Spokane at 8:15 a.m., so that means getting up and getting in the car.

I'll post something a little later today. . . . maybe even good news about Big Blue.

Thanks for your patience.

~~~~~~

It's so hard to get into any synch once a day's routine has been broken, and mine was turned upside down this morning. Still, the early morning hours were pleasant as I drove Willie back to the Spokane airport.

By now, he's back home, fussing with the grandpuppies, maybe taking a nap and then getting ready to go off to work at the Idaho Press-Tribune. It's a busy season with high-school fall sports just getting off the ground and each team's season just about to begin, so they're putting together a special fall sports edition for the paper.

We had a nice, brief visit with him yesterday. Didn't see much of him because he was working most of the day on stuff related to fall and seasons and such. We did most of our catching up during a summer dinner of barbecued tri-tip steaks, garden veggies (smothered in Imo potato topping, margarine and cheddar cheese), garlic bread and fresh garden salad.

Afterward, we went over to Colburn so he could check in on his grandma and swap a few stories with Barbara and Laurie. Then, off to bed for all of us to get some rest before the 4:30 alarm sounded.

Bill and two dogs are off today, off to Two Mouth Lakes in the Selkirk Mountains. Bill says it's a 4-mile hike in, and it will be several hours of casting flies out to lure fish before the 4 miles out. He'll spend a lot of time calling Kea too. While Kiwi loves fly fishing, Kea loves to disappear.

And, now, I'm back from Spokane, still thinking about another event yesterday, Glen Nordgaarden's memorial service. It came as no surprise that the chapel lacked adequate space to pack everyone in. Some stood outside unable to hear or see the service, which was so eloquently led by Charlie Packard.

The service was, in its sheer numbers of mourners, a fitting tribute to a human being who affected everyone in the same upbeat, positive manner. Two women spoke of how short a time they had known Glen and how every time they left a conversation with him, they felt better.

Today I move on to other things, including another chapter in the Big Blue Saga. Actually, that started yesterday when I came home determined, after seeing the thing emptying itself once more as I left for town. This time it was nice enough to rid itself of almost every drop of water.

That made it a lot easier to pick it up, pick up the tarp underneath and do some more leveling. I also took extra time, making sure the bottom seam was located correctly, ALL the way around.

Practice makes perfect---well, close anyway. It's looking good, much more like the picture on the box and much like all those others throughout the neighborhood.

We're supposed to see a temperature near 100 this afternoon, so you can bet on the fact that I'm gonna give my more stable, more shapely Big Blue a workout later today.

In the meantime, there is still watering to do; in this case, it's live stuff instead of unruly blue vinyl.

Happy Thursday to all. Stay cool.

Trinity delight

My mother and I went to the heart specialist yesterday. Dr. Jenkins has been seeing Mother for the past three years, and his expertise has made all the difference in her congestive heart disease. Her heart has improved greatly due to medications he prescribes.

In fact, it has improved so much that he told her not to come back until May for her next check-up. With that good news, Mother wanted to celebrate by going to lunch.

So, we drove down to the Edgewater Resort where Cafe Trinity has moved from its First Avenue location and has taken over the resort restaurant. We arrived at a somewhat light time with just a few tables filled inside and even fewer out on the deck. Later, the crowds came.

The temperature outside was about as close to perfect as anyone could wish, and the view---as usual, spectacular. When you're sitting on a deck in the shade with a little sun filtering through the tree limbs and you're looking east past a beach full of swimmers at a big gorgeous lake with Cabinet Mountains in the background, it doesn't get any better.

Our waitress, Sarah, was putting in her last day at the restaurant before heading back to college in Chicago. Of course, we hit it off because she told me she has a journalism degree. She's a dancer who wants to write about dance. She said she needed guidance on what direction to go with her writing.

I said, "Write what you know, and you'll be on the right path." She seemed pleased to hear that.

Mother and I each ordered a salad. In my case, it was my favorite Trinity offering the almond-crusted chicken salad. Normally it comes with goat cheese, but I always order without. Since moving down to the Edgewater, the Trinity chef has changed the salad a bit, and it's all for the better.

Besides the big strips of delicious chicken and fresh lettuce nicely accented with viniagrette, yesterday's offering was complemented with sliced strawberries, peaches and tangerine. Talk about good to the very last piece of lettuce. I ate the Big Salad as if I'd not tasted food for months.

Mother enjoyed her steak salad as much as she enjoyed the view, the setting and learning about Sarah every time she came to check on us.

The whole lunch scene was a delight, especially because we were there for a good reason---Mother's good health.

We're so lucky in Sandpoint to have access to a seemingly endless supply of wonderful eateries, and yesterday's experience was, indeed, a reflection of the wealth of opportunities in our small town.

If you're ever in Sandpoint, go to the Edgewater Trinity and try that salad. I guarantee it!

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

Today begins another series of hoppin' poppin' days. I take Mother to her regular semi-annual heart appointment with Dr. Jenkins later this morning. He's done wonders through medication for Mother's heart, and we don't anticipate any concerns cuz she says she's feeling great.

Bill leaves after work to pick up Willie at Spokane Airport. He comes in at 7:40 p.m., and they'll probably arrive here close to 11 p.m. because of an obligatory stop at DICK'S Hamburgers. I don't know if I'll wait up for them because tomorrow's a busy day too.

Willie goes to a meeting tomorrow here in Sandpoint. I'll save the full story on that for another day, but it's good. Then, he and I will leave, as Bill and his friend Boz say, at O-Dark Thirty Thursday morning for his 8:30 a.m. flight back to Boise.

~~~~~
I must be getting very paranoic and seeing blue too much of the time these days. We heard some loud blasts here late last night. One woke me from a deep sleep, and the other awakened me about half hour later when I had almost drifted back to sleep.

And, speaking of drifting, that got me focused on Big Blue. I must have been in a semi-stupor because as my brain analyzed what might have caused the blast, I began to wonder if Big Blue had done one more thing to get out of work.

The reason I wondered was that I began to fill Big Blue (Da Pool) again yesterday. First, I tried to clean the floor of Big Blue, where residue had built up in pockets. Using the hose, I sprayed hard against the dirt, and finally conceded to myself that we would have to get that pool vacuum out to do the job right.

Well, enough water had been sprayed inside the enclosure that Big Blue had several outright mud puddles.

"Can't have this, " I thought to myself. So, I proceeded to try to empty Big Blue by rolling him up and turning him over. Several sagas ago, I mentioned a giant walrus when trying to describe how one manipulates one of these pools. Let's add to that a giant "greased" walrus.

Luckily Big Blue resides out behind the barn a long ways from the road or from earshot of humans. The cows next door heard several "expletives" as I pushed, tugged, grunted and urged Big Blue to just turn over and let that muddy water out.

After I had finally managed a complete turnover, most of the water refused to empty. It just kept flowing to other pockets in different parts of the mass. "Expletive, Expletive, Expletive."
None of my persuasion, physical or verbal, did any good.

So, I gave up cleaning the muck out and turned the pool right side up. To a stubborn mass of vinyl, add dozens of tree toads who have taken up residence in the pool since its overnight draining a few days ago. I'd throw one out, and another would start hopping around. Like the muddy water, they did not want to leave.

After catching most of them and flinging them over the rim, I started filling the pool. Again, lots of physical labor followed in an effort to get the circular seam positioned correctly for 360 degrees. Once that was done, I headed off to the house and decided that I needed to add a new moniker to the pool: the 'Hail Mary, Please Stay Full of Water--Even If It Isn't Holy--Behind the Barn Miracle."

About half an hour later, I returned to my version of Lourdes to find that the southwest portion of the pool is holding most of the water. That means lopsided, for sure. That means I may not attempt to FILL the enclosure but merely pump in enough water for some sit-down refreshment.

I turned the water off and then resumed the filling process after dinner, almost forgetting to go out and turn off the hydrant before heading to bed. Fortunately, I spend enough time thinking about that pool and trying to come up with an idea for filling it properly that I did remember. Thank God.

Still, as the blasts went off last mind, my groggy mind wondered if that pool could be the cause---after all, stranger things have happened in its lifetime here at the Lovestead.

This morning, it still sat there, not blasted off into space, still lopsided and happily waiting for the next chapter in its never-ending story.

Stay tuned. In the meantime, I'm still praying.

~~~~~~
Well, I got off on the pool too much, so this morning's post won't have a lot of twitterdeedum, and you're probably glad.

So, have a nice Tuesday, and I'm headed for the hydrant.

Monday-morning debrief

~~~Lovely Miss Lily before the horse show.~~~

Laurie always starts her each ride with the snaffle bit. Then comes the hackamore.

Laurie has a brand-new bosel for the hackamore (it's the rawhide noseband). Lily has a brand-new raw spot on her nose from the hackamore, so the hackamore now has some padding.

Yesterday was a busy day. Up at 4:45, on the road to Coeur d'Alene at 6:45.

As usual, the horse show was a "hurry up and wait," but it's nice to be there in time to settle nerves and make sure everything is in place.

After Laurie worked Lily from the ground and in the warm-up ring, I climbed on and rode her around for about an hour before my class.

Finally, we were called into the arena, which Lily had never seen before. She immediately shied at the announcer's stand, right in front of the judge. Shying is uncharacteristic for her, but ya can't blame a young horse when they're seeing some stuff for the very first time in their lives.

Other than the initial infraction, she performed well with her old sack of potatoes on top. We took third in a class of six or seven, which was fine with me. I just didn't want to embarrass my sisters.

Laurie rode her in three classes, two very competitive with veteran riders and horses. She took a third in Appaloosa pleasure and did well in the other two classes.

My sisters want me to start pouring the grain to Lily and bulking her up. Laurie's even talked about a fake tail for shows next year. I'm not thrilled about that prospect, but these days fake tails are in---------and ugly, if you ask me.

All in all, we had a great day at the Coeur d'Alene show and came home quite satisfied with Lily's behavior and her performances.

On the way home, we stopped at Wendy's and had lunch. Before leaving, Barbara went back up to the counter and ordered a single hamburger---no lettuce or tomatoes----for her Blue Heeler Pita who accompanied us to the show.

~~~~~

We arrived home in late afternoon, and Bill arrived home with Kiwi and Kea an hour later from a fishing trip up Grouse Creek.

We had tickets to the last night of The Festival, compliments of Trish and The River Journal. Thank you, Trish.

I was dead tired, but I knew Bill wanted to go listen to the Spokane Symphony and its Benny Goodman theme. So, we took off and arrived in time for Dyno to be making announcements and introducing a young pianist, Zach Baker, who won the Festival music scholarship this year.

He played a piece by Chopin and then the symphony came to the stage. Shortly into the program, the symphony conductor Gary Sheldon introduced clarinetist Richard Stolzman, who wowed the audience throughout.

I don't even have words to describe the phenomenal drummer who almost stole the show.

It was a great performance, punctuated profoundly at the end with a rip-roaring fireworks show.

Long day, lots going on, but some fun memories.

Old rider, young horse, moseying through the warm-up area: Marianne and Lily.

We took a third in the walk-trot class. An even older lady of 70 years took first.

At the jog, Laurie and Lily.

At the lope, Laurie and Lily

Old dog, pretty flowers: Annie Dog in the front yard.

Fun fotos on a family visit

I met Valerie in Chicago at the Aspell Family Reunion in May. Valerie's dad Bob is one of Bud Aspell's six kids. I'm one of Mother Tibbs six kids. Bud and my mother are first cousins.

So, we think we may be third cousins. We're not quite sure, but we do know we enjoyed each other.

Valerie lives on Bainbridge Island near Seattle with her husband Craig and daughters Bevan and Ana (my apologies if I've misspelled).

They came to Coeur d'Alene this weekend for a baby shower for their longtime friends Scott and Carolyn. While Carolyn worked at the newspaper, Scott and Joey joined my cousin and her family on a visit to the Lovestead and to Tibbs Arabians.

So, of course, when it wasn't pouring rain, I snapped a few fun fotos.

Enjoy.

Friends in the flowers

Friends in the field

Bill and Anais

Group portrait 'neath the God Tree

Joey and dad Scott, Anais and Mom Valerie, Craig and daughter Bevan.

Bevan signs the Lodgepole Society Logbook.

Scott and Joey at the God Tree

A fatherly boost up the God Tree

Joey finds a pigeon feather.

Tibbs barn hay loft portrait

Bill and Scott look over the garden.

Lefty enjoys attention from visitors.

Saturday Slight

On this August Saturday, I must report that Sandpoint lost another gem yesterday.

Hazel Hall, upbeat, inspirational, much-revered Woman of Wisdom and wife of Sandpoint's legendary photographer Ross Hall, died at noon Aug. 14, 2009. She was 96. Hazel's son Dann is one of my classmates.

I've known Hazel most of my life, not only as Dann's mom, but also as a woman who never wasted a minute of precious life.

Several years ago, I interviewed her for a Sandpoint Magazine article featuring Farragut Naval Training Station during WWII and the photographer who chronicled the major events and the people of Farragut.

It's a fun read and it can be found at http://www.mariannelove.com/RossHall.html I send my condolences to Hazel's family, all lovely people.

~~~~~
I'm expecting another "cousin" invasion today. This time, only one and a distant one at that. Still, I met Valerie, who lives on Bainbridge Island, during the Aspell reunion in Chicago. She, her husband and their two daughters are in North Idaho for the weekend, visiting friends. Valerie said she may come up this afternoon especially so her daughters can see the horses.

Valerie is one of those people who "knows somebody." Her dad, my second cousin, is a urologist in Arkansas and has been labeled an FOB. That would be a Friend of Bill----Clinton that is. So, let's see does that mean about four degrees of separation between me and Bill and Hillary. Hmmm!

I have a piece of artwork (it's a nice horse picture on a nametag) which Valerie's daughter drew for me in Chicago. I'm anxious to show her that it remains treasured.

~~~~~~
Sandpoint was popping last night, even downtown, even during the Festival.

Bill and I went to Mick Duff's, which is one of our favorite watering/feeding holes on First Avenue. It was packed. We enjoyed our usual ales. I always order the Irish Pub sandwich, which is among my favorites at any eatery ever.

Only problem with this sandwich is that I can eat only half. Bill loves that. He gets a meal and a half any time we go there.

Friday night eating choices have become a clear monitor that we've lived together for 35 years and think alike. On any given Friday, he'll ask me where I want to go.

I'd say we're batting about .950 on always thinking the same place. I knew Mick Duff's was on his mind when he waited until just before the Sandpoint city limits to ask the usual Friday question.

If we're going to the Blue Heron (or if that's kinda where he wants to go), he'll ask as we're pulling out the driveway. It's not in downtown but out in our neck of the woods, so the driveway query is a sure sign that I know what to answer.

~~~~~~
Besides the cousin visit today, I have to do my part----whatever Laurie assigns me---to get Lily ready for a horse show in Coeur d'Alene tomorrow. We're both going to ride her in Western classes. For me, it's "walk-trot," and that's enough. It's the first class of four, and Laurie says I can warm her up and wave at the crowd.

Of course, I don't want to embarrass Laurie for when she has to get on the same horse, just ridden by that clown, so I'll do my best. This is a big deal----my first out-of-town appearance on my Lily and the only appearance for 2009---I think.

Once again, Barbara's giving me some of her fancy Western attire---shirt, chaps, hat. I'm riding on Laurie's saddle, and using my bridle, horse and all the leg aids I can muster to keep Lily jogging when she's supposed to jog. Lily is smart. She's also lazy, and her favorite gears are "walk" and "stop."

So, I've got a challenge tomorrow, but it should be fun.

~~~~~~
Bill just announced that the first manure pile melon should be ready for consumption tomorrow morning. He says "the feel of it" tells him so. This would be a cantaloupe I picked Thursday.

I'm a bit disappointed with the size, but it's North Idaho, and I guess to grow a cantaloupe of any size is good. So, we'll see if these are as juicy and flavorful of those from the past two years.

There are a lot more as well as several watermelons of different sizes. With 90-degree temps. returning in a few days, maybe they'll get one more growth spurt before fall.

~~~~~~~
Well, that's enough slights on this Saturday. Happy Saturday to all.