This time of the year . . . .

Bill says the snow needs to be gone from in front of the house.  What's left in the fields needs to dissipate down to just a few patches.  The wet can stay the way it's been.

If all that happens by tomorrow, Bill figures the place will look pretty much the way it did when we first walked it five years ago.  We learned about its availability in late February or early March, 2006.    

That was almost at the end of the real estate bubble.  So, it was high-priced like everything around this area.  How many remember the empty city lots in town selling for minimum $100,000?  Actually selling (as opposed to sitting), almost before they went on the market, no less?

Well, we learned about the Lovestead before it went on the market.  Bill was in a meeting with the previous owner, who had just learned he was being transferred.  

Bill walked up to him and said, "You have a farm, don't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"Where is it?" Bill asked.

"Selle," he said.

"Let's go look at pictures (aerial shots)," Bill said.  

That night Bill brought home an aerial photo and told me to go look at this place.  

"I know that place," I said to him. "Have always loved it."

Much happened in a short time, and, for the one time in our lives, the stars lined up, perfectly and quickly.  

So, the end of March or early April, we paid an official potential buyers' visit to this place.  We wore boots, and they were needed down in the woods and while walking through the hayfield where there's a swale.  

As we walked down a rather wet lane, I thought to myself that this lane may need to be built up a bit.  That was one of the first projects---with Perry Palmer's expertise---once we took possession in July.  

Later, after that very first visit, I used up a lot of gas, driving by the place, always lamenting that those trees along the road hid too much of it and that the drive by at a normal (not snooping) speed was much too fast to see anything.

Lots of water has gone under the bridge and into the ground since that day five years ago, and, yes, Mary Taylor was right when she told me the place had a high water table.  We've seen and slogged through the evidence more than we care to do over the past couple of years.

And, we'll keep on slogging through slop for who knows how long this year.  

Every future year at this time of the year, we'll probably listen to the birds chirping happily, walk through the wet fields,  almost empty of snow, enjoy a dry walk down that lane that Perry Palmer built up for us  and rejoice in the fact that we hit the lifetime lottery big time when we learned about this place. 

Rain and all!

Will it take "All My Children" and the rubber raft re-enactment?

Yup, it's beginning to look a lot like the rubber-raft-in-the-living room year. That was the same year I picked up an addiction to "All My Children."  

It was all my own children that kept me hooked on that soap opera, and it was all my own children who starred in the "rubber-raft-in-the-living-room" episode of real-life drama.

That was about 1983 when all my own children were 5 and 7, respectively.  Well, both of 'em anyway.  Now they're 32 and almost 34, respectively.  That would be Annie and Willie, respectively.  

I remember Annie was 5 because the contents to this story are key to the fact that she was about the right age to lose a lower front tooth----but not quite.

Here's the deal.  It rained and rained and rained that summer. We had no moat around our house.  We had an ocean.  Water, water everywhere and not a drop to think of going somewhere else but North Idaho. 

So, that was the summer of being mainly housebound, all day,  every day.  

When you're housebound with two little kids, you watch a lot of TV, all day,  every day.  

So, that was the year I got into Greg and Jenny's romance and that dipstick Tad, who always seemed to be causing problems for everyone back in those days. 

"All My Children" helped me,  each day,  escape the daily dread of all that rain keeping me in that house with those kids who could not go outside and play, lest they float away over to Gooby's or down to the dog pound or somewhere crazy like that.

So, we all stayed inside.  To keep the kids happy, I brought our little rubber raft into the living room, so they could pretend they were in Noah's Ark sailing away with all the wet and miserable animals.

While they were pretending to do that, I could watch my soaps and Donahue.   "All My Children" was my favorite, and it did turn into an addiction that took a few years to get over.

One day late in the afternoon while I was getting dinner ready in the kitchen, Annie came to me with her hands over her mouth and tears rolling down her cheeks.  

I asked her what happened, and when she pulled her hands away from her face and the blood came streaming out of her mouth, I knew a new reality show had just hit a pivotal moment out there in the living room. 

Through the stream of blood, I could see a bottom tooth missing. Annie gained composure enough momentarily to do what all kids do when someone else did it-----blame Willie.

I went to the living room looking for Willie.  Couldn't find him.  I went to their bedroom and couldn't find him there either----not even in the closet.  I finally found him hovered in a corner on the other side of our bed.  

At that moment, getting mad at either one of them was not an option.  I simply had to find out what happened to that tooth and where it might be.

Well, I found it pretty quickly somewhere near the rubber raft where they had been playing.  They learned from that incident that putting that little nylon rope in between your little teeth and then having your brother pull back on it is not a good idea.

I also didn't think a baby tooth coming out early, root and all was a good idea.  So, I immediately got on the phone to call our dentist.  Turned out it was the end of the work day and our dentist, along with all the others, was on his way home.

I learned after reaching him at home that, in order for the tooth to survive in its original home in Annie's mouth, we would have had to bring the tooth almost immediately to have it stuffed back in its gum cavity.

So, Annie went without a lower tooth for almost a year.  Eventually the second tooth came in with no problems.  

As I think back on this time and look at one more day of nonstop rain, I'm thinking of turning on the tube and getting back to seeing if Greg and Jenny ever got married.  By now---in soap opera standards---they could have great-great grandchildren and 16 marriages apiece.  

Iz "All My Children" still on these days?

As for rubber rafts in the living room, these days I babysit my grandpuppies.  They get a kick out of grabbing on to things and pulling really hard.  

I don't even want to think about that possibility.  Besides, they probably would grab passage on the ark if it passes by here one of these days.  

Ah, rain and crazy memories!  

Tuesdaytwitterdeedripdripdrip

I just read that we are experiencing the third wettest March on record.  What a surprise!  And, they say it's not gonna stop.  So, my first news this morning is no news.  It's pouring rain.

When I complained on Facebook the other day (would I complain about rotten weather?), my friend and attorney Bill Berg chimed in with some information he'd read.  

He said that the same weather forecasters who predicted the winter we've had fairly accurately are now saying the only dry month we're going to have this year is July.  

He punctuated his information with, "Wear a hat!"

Thanks, Bill, for raining on my parade! 

Well, maybe when Bill and his wife Mindy are marching through the Fourth of July Parade, promoting Panhandle Alliance for Education, they won't have to wear their hats CUZ their parade is in July.  

Well, at least the last couple of days have offered some breaks and a few opportunities to get at the yard work.  So, I won't complain too much.

It's supposed to be in the 50s-plus tomorrow through Friday, so some of my animals around here----stinky dogs and itchy horses---are gonna get some baths in that warm weather.  

When stinky dogs stink at least 50 feet away, it's time to do something.  Even if they roll in the mud afterward, the basic skin will be clean for a while.  And, maybe they won't stink.

I'm thinking Lefty, my itchy horse, could use a medicated bath for his sensitive hide.  

Speaking of horses, I have one who's an escape artist.  Miss Heather was standing in the aisle of the barn this morning---out of her stall.  Surrounding her was a 40-pound shrink-wrapped shavings container with several holes in it.  

Shavings were strewn down the aisle where she had taken the bag and dragged it almost to the barn door---two thirds of the way through the barn. 

The nice, neat bale of Dahlberg alfalfa that I had just cut open yesterday was scattered---what was left of it, that is---all through the aisle.  Several items sitting on the shavings bag pile were all over the place.  

She had also opened the lid to the grain bin, but that must have been just before I reached the barn because, fortunately,  the grain inside and Annie's coffee can of dogfood had not been touched.  

When I was gone, Bill bought a snap to put on the end of one of her stall latches.  There's also a chain on the other side.  

She learned long ago to open the latch that is so tight I can hardly shove it into its slot.  She also knows how to slip the latch along with Bill's new metal snap through the slot.

I figured the chain on the outside would keep her in the stall. Nope.  Last night she pushed and pushed enough that the chain and its staple came completely out of the board.  

So, today I'll be stopping by Co-Op to get yet a bigger, stronger chain.  Horses can be amazing escape artists, but Heather's one of the best. 

Since it's raining today, I'll probably spend time putting more seeds into pots.  Did I mention that the moles have already started on my tomatoes in the greenhouse? 

The top of one 'mater plant was snapped off cleanly when I inspected the greenhouse garden Sunday morning.  That meant a trip to town to get another lamp---this one with a clamp.  

I've heard moles don't work in the light, so I'm hoping the overhead lamp going all night will do the trick.  Last year they had a fine time with my cukes.  So, I know their potential.  

We seem to be overcome with moles throughout our yard area anymore.  I've heard of various methods to get rid of them and am considering some.  

But I probably won't try the method my friend Boots used last summer----lighting up several mole holes only to look off somewhere else to see his lawn burning up.  

I guess moles are probably about as big a nuisance as horses with trained lips.  

Never a dull moment even on one more rain-soaked day in the third wettest month ever.  

Now, I'll go get that hat!  Happy Tuesday.

Birthday runs begin

Three birthdays on Facebook today and one later at lunch.  Thus, begins the string of days when it seems to be all things birthday with family and close friends.

I'm sure every family has the same story.  So and so, so and so and so and so, all born the same week.  

My brother's birthday is tomorrow.   I discovered this morning, one more family member's birthday is today, and he's a cousin in Chicago.  That reminds me that my cousin in Northern California has a birthday Wednesday.  

The next day is my dear friend and former student Chad's, then Willie's, then Bill's, then a break, then my sister, then,  the triplets and then remembering my dad. 

By that day, it will be April 12, and sure enough, I will have forgotten a few. Facebook helps one not forget; sometimes I forget to take the time to send them good wishes.

This morning I remembered.  I've met my cousin Jerry in Chicago only a couple of times, but it's hard to forget the guy who towers above most of the other relatively "short" cousins.  So, to Jerry, here's another happy birthday.  

Mandy is also celebrating a birthday today.  She's a former student who loved photography.  Mandy now lives in Denver, and I see that she and another former student, both of whom went with us to the Mile High City on a journalism trip back in the early '90s have connected.  

Then, there's Jessie.  She's my daughter's age.  I had her as a graphic arts and English student, and she was a dandy at both.  She's living around this area and fully engaged in her work and her family.

Later, I'll be (don't tell) the mystery guest at my buddy Boots' birthday lunch.  I don't think Boots reads my blog, so I think I'm safe telling the world that his 76th birthday is today.

And, it's pretty special for Boots.  One would think that reaching the milestone of three quarters of a century would be the big one.  But for Boots, this birthday probably far exceeds anything he celebrated last year.

Boots has just conquered a bout of colon cancer.  I think he received his assurance last week that he's cancer free, so it's definitely reason to celebrate.

Boots Reynolds is the famous cowboy cartoonist who does all the funny cards for Leanin' Tree and the Western Horseman magazine.  

So, I'm sure this birthday doings is going to be a fun one and a special reason for Boots, his family and his friends to celebrate. 

Gotta go----doggies are here.  Maybe more later, and if you're celebrating a birthday today, I'll send you greetings to have a good one.

A Remarkable Evening at the Fairgrounds

It was a great evening at the Bonner County Fairgrounds last night as the masses---and I mean "masses" turned out in this couple's honor and to show their GENEROUS support. 

Alan and Robyn McNall were there with at least a thousand of their closest friends and family. 

The mood throughout the main exhibit hall was tangibly upbeat, proud and thrilled---not only for the McNall family but also for a community that once more has shown the stuff it's made of----and that includes generosity, caring and love. 

Most folks I talked to at the benefit dinner and auction said they agreed that they had never seen anything of that magnitude in Sandpoint.  And, Sandpoint puts on some great benefits. 

Check for more photos (to come) of the event below.

Saturday Dreaming

~~~Just longing for daisies and green grass on another day of snow~~~

Sometimes pictures help when we look outside in late March and see yet another new blanket of snow. 

At least the overnight dump cleaned things up a bit.

This week, when it's not been raining, I've found my desperate self raking the concrete piles of snow around the place, just to clean the dirt off from them.  

They look better, and I figure sometimes that raking action speeds up the melting.

Still haven't been able to take the Christmas tree lights off the trellis by the front deck cuz some are encased in the hard snow.

Bill fired up his big-blow heater in the shop yesterday afternoon.  That was when it finally quit raining and I had grabbed my rake for some more doggy do pickup.

I suggested he lug that big heater out to the front of the house, plug it in and let it blow all that hard snow off the deck.

He just looked at me and went on about his business sweeping the shop floor.

Still, I think the heater would work.

I looked at the weather forecast for the next ten days.  Talk about a broken record---same highs, same lows, same rain.

The good news is, however, that it looks kinda bright out there and dry. 

If the snow or rain wants to come at night and give us the days to work outside, I won't complain.

~~~~

We're planning to attend the Alan McNall benefit tonight at the fairgrounds:  4-8 p.m.  dinner and an auction.

I have a feeling the place will be packed.  It's been well publicized, and virtually everyone around here knows of the McNalls.  They're great people, and I'm sure the community will be its usual generous self in helping them with the expenses associated with Alan's cancer treatments.  

Just like the weather in Sandpoint, the goodness and generosity in this community moves on like a broken record.  And, that is good. 

~~~~

I've heard via the grapevine there's another fundraiser going on over at my sisters' today.  It's the second annual "pick the square where the horse will dump" moneymaker.  

They moved it from the high school grounds to their indoor horse arena.  So, I'll probably go over there, put in my two bits or more, and hope for my square to be the one.  

It's the time of the year again where the Cedar Post and the Monticola staffs are earning money to go to their national convention. 

This year it's in Anaheim, which will be nice for the students.   

Hard to believe another school year has gotten to this stage.  They go by really fast when you're not teaching. 

~~~~

Speaking of betting, I'm thinking this year's bracketology junkies are feeling pretty sad, for the most part.  From what I've heard among my travels, most folks' predictions for who's going to end up in the Final Four have gone south. 

It's been a giant-killer March Madness so far.  When Duke went down---oh, what a fall that was---I swear I heard a big groan across the country.  

And, last night when Ohio State went down, I'm bettin' that pretty much ended it for most people who follow college basketball with a passion.  

I'm guessing right now that the folks who know the least about college basketball are leading in the majority of office pools across the country. 

Oh well, there's always next year.

~~~~

I may be dreaming, but it seems like there's some sun trying to shine through the clouds over there in the east.  

Guess I'd better go catch it before it goes away.

Happy Saturday.  Stay dry, and smell the daisies!

Good News Friday

I couldn't resist stealing this photo from my daughter's blog this morning.  It's another shot of the babies at the Irish National Stud.  

Annie has a wonderful camera with a fantastic lens.  The babies were clear across a huge fenced pasture when she caught this shot.  My heart melts any time I see images from our visit to that beautiful place, and to Ireland in general.  

If you want to see an assortment of Irish photos, seen through the lens and the eye of Annie Love, visit her photo blog at http://www.nnlove.blogspot.com/.

This is a good-news morning, for sure.  The great, fantastic, wonderful, uplifting, joyful, etc. news is that my friend Ann sent out a photo of her husband Rick last night.  

He's the former teaching colleague who suffered a massive stroke six weeks ago in Florida.  This week Rick moved from his second hospital to full-fledged rehabilitation.

For Ann's birthday he gave her a hug.  Later, he ate applesauce by himself and it went where it was supposed to go.

For the photo, Ann said he was sitting on the bed by himself and had combed his own hair for the occasion.

He's got a long ways to go, but this week has been monumental in his recovery and definitely a wonderful birthday present for Ann. Keep up the good work, Rick.

I told Ann this morning that it was time for Rick to speed it up because we'd had TWO STRAIGHT days without rain.  It's time for them to return from Florida and start enjoying North Idaho again.  Maybe we'll have some normal spring.

When I returned from Ireland last week, I had a stack of "to do's" to do.  They're finally almost finished, so that's good news.  If the weather cooperates, I can continue on outdoor yard work, maybe even some touch-up painting.  

If the weather does not cooperate, I'll concentrate my efforts on planting more seeds in pots and transplanting tiny plants into bigger pots.  After following the directions closely, my shamrocks, planted from Irish seed have popped up.

My collection of goodies brought back also included some Irish wildflower seed----little secret:  the seeds are mostly the same flowers we grow here----but the seed came from Ireland so that makes it extra special.

Can't wait to find a place specifically for that packet. 

And, maybe if it stays dry for a while, I can start tackling the loose, dirty hair on those horses.  I figure a good run or two in the round pen will heat them up enough to help the hair drop off with ease.

This is definitely a good-news day here at the Lovestead, and I can even feel a "spring" in my step.  So, that's all for now, and it's off to work off this case of spring fever. 

Have a nice Friday. 

This and That Thursday

Not a lot of heavy-duty stuff on my mind this morning.  The week has been filled with a heavy writing load, so I think my brain would like to hibernate for a while.  

I did read the column in this morning's Spokesman-Review about WSU basketball and its alleged basketball team pot/drug problem.  Seems like the athletic regime down there has a mantra of "play now, ask questions later."  

Big game on the line last night, and a third player in not very many weeks got busted just three hours after Monday night's game.

First he was off the team; then, suddenly hours before the big game he was back on the team.  The general public does not know all the facts associated with each of these players' situations, but the general public does operate on perception.

And, this situation seems to be sending a bad message about responsibility, consequences, etc. as opposed to a win-at-all-costs reputation in college athletics----not that we see saints everywhere we look in sports these days. 

Still, it will be interesting to see how this one plays out, not only on the court in Madison Square Garden but also in the law court and the court of public opinion. 

This morning, I also saw that our "Meech" from Gonzaga made the cover of this week's Sports Illustrated magazine.  I don't know if the story associated with the picture would be something Meech wants to share with his grandkids, but still he made the cover in a phenomenal action photo.

In the picture, he's attempting to guard who else but "The Jimmer" in last weekend's game against BYU.  The Jimmer, with his back to the camera and his feet appearing about ten feet in the air, is doing what "The Jimmer" does best---making yet another basket.

I'll be watching tonight to see if BYU continues its run in the Dance. 

Yesterday was one gorgilious day. I used it to finish off a story, run some errands, take my mother for a drive and an ice cream cone in Priest River.  Burger Den stands as an all-time great hamburger joint.  And, the cones were good too.

In between all those activities, I used my time in the sunshine walking the yard,  cleaning up doggie doggie do's.  This is the first winter we've had five dogs---count 'em FIVE---dogs depositing on our lawn. 

Let's see, I'll do some cyphering.  During a usual day, I'm guessing each dog drops about three loads.  It started snowing in November, which meant I was no longer going around with a barn pick each day, retrieving piles and throwing them over the fence or out to the woods. 

That means about 125 days without clean-up duty.  Multiply that by 15 (three deposits per dog per day), and I come up with 1,975 doggie deposits, give or take a few.  

So, you know I've been busy this week.  Can't do much with them until they thaw out of the snow, so at least it's a gradual process, but we're getting there.  

I'm quite pleased to have much more space where a person can confidently take a step without having to go wash their feet in one of the many mini ponds around the yard. 

And, speaking of dogs----these past few days have meant new frontiers in dirty dogs.  I've never seen 'em as filthy as they've been lately, but a little stale smell and slop hanging off their hides doesn't bother them one bit.

They're as happy as ever, although they may start wondering if we've turned totally paranoid with all those recoiling dances we've been doing lately in their midst. 

Of course, they all want to jump up on us and tell us how much they love us.  Debbie came here day before yesterday with her downtown clothes on.  Debbie left looking like she'd rolled in the barnyard. 

Dogs don't understand that people like to wear clean clothes in spite of their fetish for rolling around and playing in the slop.  So, we spend our time talking and watching.  As Bill says, Kiwi catches a person by surprise---always jumping up on one's back.  

It's a dirty time of the year, for sure, but if we're lucky, the rest of the snow will melt, and I can get back to my routine of walking the yard with my barn pick.  And, maybe some day the dogs will smell good again.

What's in a Name? What's in the fame?

I wondered why someone from New Hampshire would be searching my blog for Elizabeth Taylor siblings.  Learned that from checking the sitemeter. Whenever there's an interesting place listed among the readers, I check to see why they landed on my blog.

I figured whoever they were, they'd be disappointed after finding that Elizabeth Taylor siblings in my blog happen to be four Taylor boys who grew up on the farm across from the Lovestead.  They all joined the Navy.

The Taylor brothers have one sister Elizabeth, and she's finishing up her studies to earn an elementary teaching degree. 

It's obvious, they were looking for the other more famous Elizabeth.  

The next move I made after checking the sitemeter information for my blog was to move on to the news headlines.  Now, I know why the searcher landed on my spot.

The first headline announced that world-renowned actress Elizabeth Taylor has died from heart failure.  She's been in and out of hospitals for some time, so it comes as no surprise.

I'm sure the next few days, weeks or even months will bring us information about her siblings and probably a lot more than we ever really wanted to know about Liz.  

And, when you're talking all things Liz, of course, Michael Jackson needs to be revived.  For sure, Liz' ultimate demise produces much fodder for all the entertainment shows and news magazines.  

What will stand out in my mind about Liz Taylor is her childhood role in National Velvet. That was important to me at the time because any horse-related movie gets my attention.  Not that they're always that great----I was pretty disappointed in Secretariat. 

Anyway,  Liz played a memorable part in National Velvet.  I'm sure if I watched the movie these days I may not like it as much as when it first came out. 

Liz was, indeed, beautiful.  And, I believe she was a pretty good actress. May she rest in peace, and may her story told over and over and over not get too tiring. 

I doubt she would want her fans to turn totally nauseated by the overkill which television tends to do these days.  

As for Elizabeth Taylor across the road with the four brothers, I think she's probably going to contribute positively to a lot of lives in her role as a teacher.  I'm sure she already has done her share in changing lives for the better.

Her work, which has involved signing for the deaf,  probably won't make too many headlines, but it will certainly have lasting impact.  She worked for a couple of years in Southern Idaho before deciding to pursue her elementary teaching certificate.  

This Elizabeth Taylor comes from a hard-working, community-minded family whose imprint has been left in so many places here in Bonner County.  The brothers and their dad have contributed through their years as Boy Scouts.  

I was just telling my sister Laurie this past weekend that Mary Taylor and family always cook the hamburgers at the annual Idaho State Forestry contest each May.  

I'm sure Elizabeth Taylor has flipped her share of burgers over the years. 

Again, all four Taylor brothers and their dad have served and continue to serve our country.  I see Elizabeth's mom every time I vote because she works for the elections board.  She volunteers at the local elementary school.  She even teaches aspiring small farmers about all things chicken.

It will be fun to see where Elizabeth ends up once she earns her teaching degree this spring.  The school will be fortunate, I'm sure.

So, our Elizabeth Taylor may never be as famous as National Velvet's or Cleopatra, but I'm sure she'll make her mark in a very different and meaningful way.  

And now, in the future,  if some google searcher lands on my blog, looking for Liz Taylor's siblings, they'll learn about Peter, Michael, Brian and Terry, all proudly and honorably serving in the United State Navy. 

And, they'll also learn a few tidbits in another Elizabeth Taylor's ongoing and inspiring story as an aspiring teacher of the children.

Home Alone and Meetin' Folks

I left home for almost two weeks and returned.  A few days went by, and Bill left home.  He didn't get to go to Ireland or anyplace that adventurous.  He went to Moscow.

He's done that every year in March for as long as I can remember.  I think his gathering is called the Idaho Forest Landowners' annual meeting.  So, every year he takes off on a Sunday afternoon and returns Tuesday evening.  

I was thinking of driving down there this morning because my editor for the Idaho Forest Products Commission profiles was planning to be there.  We thought it would be fun to meet face-to-face for the first time after spending a year emailing or calling back and forth.

Some may recognize Maria more by her voice than her name.  She's the Brit who always participates in the KPBX-NPR annual fund drive in Spokane. She's a very involved lady, with her marketing/PR business and her interest in horses.

It would have been nice to meet Maria.  I was thinking of calling my former editor Diane, whom I have met; my current editor Dana from the Appaloosa Journal and Juli from the Horse and Rider magazine, again still only cyber friends, and asking them all to get together for lunch.  

That would be a fun gathering, since all of us have several common threads of interest, especially journalism and horses, but I'm also in the midst of a major feature story assignment.

Yesterday the assignment allowed me to be home alone while meeting some fascinating, fun-loving women from across the country.

I'd already met Grace.  She signs her name on emails as Gracie, but I don't know her quite that well yet.  

She's a member of Sisters on the Fly, as are the others.  I called Grace from the airport in Spokane before leaving for Ireland and warned her that some interview questions would be coming.

Since that time, I've learned that she is a "salt-of-the-earth" lady, as are the others.  Grace and I have exchanged several emails.  She retired from her career as a corrections officer in California and moved up to Spokane to be closer to her daughter.

Since joining Sisters on the Fly, Grace has restored three vintage trailers and has taken in every activity possible put on by the Sisters in this region.  That includes showing off her trailer at an Appaloosa-sponsored trail ride last summer.  

Grace and I talked again yesterday afternoon on the phone and decided that our lively conversation needed to be continued over lunch some day when I go to Spokane.  

I spent a good hour yesterday morning visiting with Maurrie, founder of the Sisters on the Fly.  She lives in Arizona and spends her summers in Absaroke, Mont., fly fishing and engaging in Sisters on the Fly cowgirl-oriented activities.

Maurrie's son owns Sea and Stream Outfitters, seasonally working out of Bozeman and Florida.  He taught his mom how to fly fish.  

It was from those lessons that the concept for Sisters on the Fly eventually took hold with Maurrie and her sister Becky.  The group has since received considerable attention from Cabela's and will be featured in Oprah's O Magazine AND the Appaloosa Journal, of course. 

It was fun to hear Maurrie's stories about how aspects of the organization have unfolded since 1999,  including her association as a cook in Arizona at a cowgirl school, working alongside with Chef Rocko before he became a TV personality. 

My interviewing for this story also introduced me to Pam from the Southern Sisters.  She's a retired school nurse who lives near Savannah, Georgia.  Her group is sponsoring a Sisters' gathering in April on Tybee Island, off the coast near Savannah.

It was a fun day getting acquainted with these ladies and their stories----made the task of pounding out a story more like a big, happy picnic rather than work.  That could be because their motto is "we have more fun than anyone."

Plus, it was a great way to spend yet another rainy day in Idaho.  As I look out the window and see snow spitting from the sky, I'm thinking today ought to be spent doing some more "interviewing."  

Maybe the sun will come and stay for a while one of these days.  Happy Tuesday from the Home Alone Sisters on the Fly wannabe. 

Tea and Crumpets---oops, Cupcakes

We went to a tea with Mother yesterday.  She beamed throughout, partly because the social event's purpose worked out just fine for those who put it on.  This was a spring tea, designed to lift everyone's spirits after a long winter.  

Colorful centerpieces and decorated goodies, along with a generally festive mood did the trick, I'm sure, for everyone in attendance. 

Mother also beamed because her three daughters showed up on an afternoon when they would normally choose to be outside, tromping around in the mud and doing something with a horse.

I think we had each already engaged in our individual  horse activities before tea time.  I know that I ate more than my share of horsehair before going to the tea and nibbling away at a delicious cupcake.  

The frosting on my cupcake tasted a heckuva lot better than Lefty's loose hair flying all over the place during his brush-down and clipping job. 

Before going, I got dressed up in my usual winter "dress-up" outfit.  Pastel green jeans, black turtleneck, mint green blouse, black sweater and even my dress black shoes.  That's the second time in 2011 I've squeezed my big feet into those dress shoes.

Last time was the Girl Scout luncheon in February.  

I figure when an event is meant to be special, I can break away from the usual barn jeans (these days heavier than usual with wet cuffs from slopping through the spring melt ponds), a cleaner sweater than usual and one of my fleece jackets.  Oh yeah, I change from my barn boots to my hiking shoes.

That's the standard outfit for going to town.  So, yesterday I'd say little ol' me appeared at the tea much more dapper than usual.

My sisters did too.  Of course, they still have to clean up and dress up five days a week, so dressing up a sixth time on Sunday afternoon,  when they're usually out there riding their horses,  was probably more of sacrifice for them than for me.

Mother seemed quite pleased when she saw her three daughters.  And, throughout the event, she kept thanking us for coming.  She thanked everyone, as a matter of fact.

And, she kept telling us how much fun we were having.  Well, we did have a good time, mainly because she was so happy.  

Barbara and Laurie are not tea-and-crumpets-type folks, so they settled for brownies and punch.  I had coffee with my cupcake.

We were supposed to bring our own teacup to the event.  We convened over the telephone beforehand and agreed to show up cupless.  

None of us was willing to grab Mother's Haviland or Bill's mother's china and haul it somewhere to hold onto, sipping tea with our pinkies extended into the air.

We know ourselves too well; surely at least one somebody of our group would certainly break something in the transport.  We agreed we were collectively not willing to face the consequences of a shattered teacup or saucer. 

So, the heirloom china stayed home, and the sponsoring folks did have extra cups and saucers on hand.

Years ago, Mother tried really hard and in vain to develop "ladies" out of her three daughters.  I'm sure as the decades have passed she has grimaced a time or two at our unladylike ways of preferring jeans and barn boots to elegant downtown apparel and fancy shoes. 

So, yesterday had to be a supreme moment as she convinced herself and tried to convince us that we had "arrived" into the sophisticated world of ladylike ways.  

We did our best to keep her smiling and proud, and as we walked out the door, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, knowing that Mother was, indeed, happy and that we had survived our tea and cupcake experience without embarrassing ourselves or her.

Madness turns to Sadness/Gladness

The sun is shining this morning.  Today is spring.  Yesterday was winter and continued ZAGmania.

It did not take us long at my sisters' house last night to drown our sorrows and move on to the future.  We ate strawberry/rhubarb pie and ice cream for our "wake" of sorts as we watched the ZAGS end their season.

We must admit getting tired of hearing about the Jimmer virtually 9 out of every 10 comments during the first half.  The game was not ALL THINGS JIMMER, but it seemed that way in the beginning.

If Jimmer did not take a shot, Jimmer was being patient.  If another BYU player made a shot, certainly Jimmer was to blame or should that be "got credit."  

That Jimmer idolizes Gonzaga Bulldog guard David Stockton's dad John somewhat softened the overkill on Jimmermania coming from the announcers' lips.

I don't want to take away anything from the Jimmer's story or from his uncanny ability to hit the big shots and play a good game of basketball.  I just believe all sports commentators must learn that there are ten players on the floor, all contributing to a team.

The others deserve recognition too.

Enough said, the Bulldogs lost to a team prepared to win a big one.  I hope the BYU Cougars provide at least a bit of redemption for our ZAGS by going all the way and winning the National Championship.

In the meantime, the sun is shining this morning, and our sadness last evening clicked almost immediately on our gladness buttons.  

We shall leave our beloved ZAGS men's team behind for another several months, we'll pull for the Lady ZAGS to keep moving on through their tournament, and we'll get fully engaged in all things spring. 

The timing could not have been more perfect for that big full moon to drift over the mountains in readiment for this morning's big, beautiful sun.  

Snow will melt.  Hair will drop from horses' hides.  Plants outside will rise from their winter beds toward the sky. Grass will grow and turn green. Birds will sing louder than ever.  Heavy winter clothes will go to the closets.

It's all good this morning, and we are no longer sad----just thankful for another year of wintertime entertainment, provided for us with each game's expectation of how our ZAGS are gonna do this year and will they make it to the Dance.

They got much better at the end of the season, as they should.  They survived adversity and keen competition to be allowed into the Dance door.  They waltzed beautifully through one round and stumbled badly in another.

But that's okay.  There's always next winter, and we'll be ready to settle down from our busy outdoor lives to once again revive our own brand of ZAGmania. 

For now, SUN, bring it on!

Saturday Slightly Mad

I'm not at all angry this morning.  I'm just getting into the mood for this afternoon when March Madness for us will continue on,  or it will end.

I'm just mad about ZAGS today and hoping they can outwit the Jimmer, the opposing team's guard known for his shooting accuracy.

It will be a good game when they play No. 3 BYU and the match-up will serve as a test of whether the rebuilding program Coach Mark Few implemented two months into the season, leading to 11 straight victories,  can step it up one more, important notch.

As Bill said, we'll know soon.

Yesterday I  commented on my Facebook post and suggested that if St. Patrick did the ZAGS some good, maybe we should pray to St. Joseph today in the ZAGS behalf.  

After all, this is the Feast of St. Joseph's and the swallows probably will fly back to Capistrano today. Why not have the ZAGS fly back to Spokane to prepare for the next chapter of Madness???

My former student Cindy, who lives in Utah, commented that she had enjoyed the ZAGS game Thursday when they defeated St. John's in the tournament's first-round action.

I responded to Cindy that we would probably be cheering on opposite sides today.

She agreed, but indicated a fondness for the ZAGS because she saw "John's" son was playing for the Bulldogs.  Cindy said she enjoyed watching David Stockton's father John play with Karl Malone during their famous run with the Utah Jazz.

Anyway, the Big Dance is keeping us all excited for our own special reasons.

In the meantime, I spent a quiet day at home yesterday, attending to numerous home projects.  In between, however, I took time to watch NCAA games that played almost steadily from 9 to 9. 

Today will probably be more of the same.

But stuff got done, and it was fun working outside cleaning up the yard wherever snow has melted.  Those shamrocks are now planted as are this year's cukes.  

Had one disappointment when I opened a seed packet for cukes which contained only 12 seeds.  Couldn't believe it.  The other packet made up for it, and I do have seeds leftover.

The lettuce seed I just planted in two potting trays Wednesday has already sprouted.  Little green plants are popping up all over.  I'll probably take those trays to the greenhouse and hook up a heater for cold nights. 

The trellis near the front deck still sits decorated with Christmas lights because the crusty, well-packed snow pile there still covers many of the bulbs.  Removal will come in the next few days, I'm sure.

The wreath, however, has finally come down, and I saved its frame for next year. 

Horses spent the night without blankets and seem to be doing just fine.  The blankets do avoid one problem.  Normally, red and white Lily is, this morning, red, white and green.  I think I'll get some of that shampoo which,  when applied, does the dry wash. 

In other news, Willie's work with his journalism students at Sandpoint High drew attention on Huckleberries Online yesterday.

Here's what the blogfather Dave Oliveria wrote:  On his Twitter page, William Love, Sandpoint educator and son of Marianne Love/Slight Detour, tells of giving his journalism students at the Cedar Post an assignment to write six-word stories on current events. 

Among the best responses was one about the 20th anniversary of the Rodney King arrest: “Rodney 20 years later, nothings changed.” 

And: “Egypt revolts. Dominoes fall on Libya.” 

And: “Tsunami. Earthquake. Nuclear leak. Big problem.”

Oliveria then challenged readers to write their own six-word stories.  You can go to www.huckleberriesonline.com to see readers' contributions.

And, I'll take it a step further:  you can write yours and leave them in the comments.   

It's a fun exercise, disciplining us to make our words count. 

~~~

Not to run ZAGmania into the ground, but I must share one very poignant ZAG story.  Lori Book Weiler, is a ZAGnut, like the rest of us. 

She's also a friend of my teaching colleague Rick Gehring, who suffered a massive stroke more than five weeks ago.

Rick is currently undergoing rehab and getting ready for more rehab.  As yet, he has not been able to speak. 

Slow steps, his wife Ann reports to me, but steps forward, and that's what's important.

Anyway, Lori sent Rick a ZAGS cap.  When it arrived this week, he saw it, grabbed it and put it on his head.  That's a great sign and a testimony to the wonderful impact this regional basketball team has on so many of its devoted fans.

Well, that's enough for this Saturday.  It's relatively quiet when I consider that at this time last Saturday I was walking the streets of Dublin with diehard geocachers.  What a fun memory among many!

Happy Saturday to all.  GO ZAGS!  And, keep on going, Rick!

SPRINGing into Action

Everywhere I look around this Lovestead I see work.  

I've finally reached a day when there'll be time to attack the projects that have been waiting for my return from Ireland.  

And, now that the reality of being home has set in and the jet-lagged body and mind returned to a semi-normal state, I can move forward.

While sitting here at the computer, three stories to be completed remind me of dates----deadlines coming on quickly.   Within the next week or ten days, they must be done and filed.  So, I'll grind away at them whenever possible. 

In Annie's bedroom some growing tomatoes, pansies, petunias and peppers will need to be transplanted into bigger pots.  Two flats of lettuce, planted day before yesterday, sit near the stove for warmth.  

I wanted to plant shamrocks yesterday, but the directions say to leave the seeds in the refrigerator for 24 hours before planting.  Then, the pots with their soil need to sit in water for a time before seeds are sown.  

That will happen today.  Plus, the potting soil purchased at Co-Op Country Store yesterday will go into action, with cukes and other veggie seeds planted.

Every time I walk outside I look at the scabbed-up white fence around the barnyard.  A trip to the store for a 5-gallon bucket of paint is on the "to do" list.

The horses feasted more than ever on fence over the winter.  Now it's time to try to cover up their aggressive toothwork.  Some boards are so chewed they may even need to be replaced.

And, inside that barnyard are the horses, all needing haircuts and hair brushing.  I think I'll take their blankets off today and see if they can go from now on without them.  Those hides need some breathing time.

I'm still planning to sell Heather this spring, so she'll get the most attention in the equine sprucing-up department.  I wish I did not have to sell her because she loves me and I love her.  

But the reality of dollars spent on three horses that I cannot ride at the same time says it must happen.  

I'll be very selective in selling Heather----must be a good home, must be someone that knows and understands horses.   She stays here until the right person comes along.

Expenses or not, Heather deserves a good home where people love her and understand her skiddish ways.  Heather is a sensible horse, but that occasional skiddishness with the wrong person would not be good.

As the snow slowly disappears, all the doggie decorating, deposited over the winter, appears.  I've found during past springs that a scrape or two with the rake usually dissolves most of the piles, but walking the vast lawn area to do that still needs to be done.

I love this time of year, and I love having a full plate of "to do's" when it comes to anything outside.  

Finally, we're no longer cooped up, and finally it's all there, waiting for attention---the yard, the garden, the fences, the horses, the dogs.

The daylight may last longer with our newest season of daylight savings, but when spring projects come, the days seem shorter than ever because they fly by so fast as we race around to attack six months' worth of projects, seemingly all at the same time.

And, the other thing I notice early on during each new spring is how much less time it takes for my body to scream out at me, "Enough!"  I seldom listen, though, and just continue punishing those old muscles and bones.

After all, there are too many other entities in need, and a few aches, pains and tired muscles within my frame will just have to deal with it. 

Ah, the beginning of spring----best time of the year!  

Now, I'd better get to work.  Happy Friday!

How 'bout those ZAGS!!!!

Go O' ZAGS!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel much more license than usual on this day to ask dear St. Patrick to extend his blessings over our ZAGS, thanks to this priest.

He would be Fr. Kevin McNamara, who is pictured here outside his pulpit at St. Mary's Cathedral in Killarney but preaching nonetheless.  

On this day in February a story in the Irish daily featured this photo of Fr. McNamara and the giant posters promoting Irish civic duty outside St. Mary's.

Ireland had a nationwide election shortly before we arrived there, and while we were there, the country seated its new taoiseach/prime minister Enda Kenny and his cabinet. 

By the way, I spoke with Niall, a geocacher from Northern Ireland's Sligo on Saturday and asked him about the term taoiseach (teee shak).  He did his best to teach to me the proper pronunciation but I'm still not sure of my accuracy.

Niahl told me it seemed strange to him whenever he has visited other countries that news outlets would refer to Ireland's prime minister rather than its taoiseach.  

Anyway, Fr. Kevin McNamara was forthcoming in his thoughts on the importance of his flock at St. Mary's exercising their right and responsibility to vote.

He is also the priest who granted this sinner absolution and finalized that act with "Welcome home."  I don't know if I've behaved enough to retain the officially cleansed soul since, but I've been doing my best.

And, because of that effort, I'll keep sending mental messages via Fr. McNamara and to St. Patrick imploring God  smile on our ZAGS today as they take on St. John's in Denver at the opening round in the NCAA basketball tournament aka March Madness.

There is much to be mad or disturbed about in the world this morning, and we do not take any of it lightly.  Hearts are heavy for many reasons, especially the uncertainty that prevails over the natural disaster in Japan and the fighting in Libya and other countries.  

We won't know the outcome of of those complicated situations or of the many other complex conflicts that affect people, friends or family all over the world.  And, we'll pray for a satisfying outcome for all individuals involved.

In the midst of turmoil comes our March Madness, and I think St. Patrick would approve of some levity rising out of the heaviness that so pervades our world.  

We shall know the outcome of the upcoming clash between two college basketball giants when the final buzzer sounds tonight.  In looking forward to that moment, we are filled with expectation and a feeling of supreme exhilaration.

We'll temporarily bow out of the personal responsibilities that go along with our daily trials and tribulations and will sit, filled with tension and hope that our ZAGS will prevail and move on to yet another day of pleasant distraction for their loyal followers. 

When the buzzer sounds, we'll go back to the shadowy reminders that it's a tough world out there.

Furthermore, we'll, no doubt, act as best we can as humans to do our part in supporting efforts to revive a sense of hope in those burdened with much heavier concerns than a crazy basketball game.

So, amidst the worldwide weight of this day, there is a frivolous air and a sense of celebration.  

On this St. Patrick's Day, freshly home from Ireland,  I'll end by with "Top o' the morning to ya," and GO O' ZAGS!

Let's talk "to lets."

I thought I was in heaven when I first spotted the signs.  They were everywhere, and of various varieties:  Room To let, Apartment To let, Shop To let.  

Man, Dublin has a smorgasboard of places for me to run whenever I feel the need, I first thought.  This isn't so bad.

Then, I looked closer and realized my eyes and my continued desire for the security of knowing about such broad access to a "facility"  should the need arise were playing tricks on me.  

Those signs all over the place were simply mirages for a wishful thinker, especially one who has an perennial unpredictable personal plumbing problem.

Still, three days in to our travels around Dublin, I found myself wondering how a "shop to let" differed from a "room to let."  

Maybe they provide a bar of good ol' Lava soap in those cuz your hands might be kinda greasy in a shop to let, I thought.  

No worries after the realization that my eyes truly were playing tricks.  

I never had any close calls and only paid once for access into those lovely personal stalls the Irish provide for their citizens and visitors.  That was in the downtown fancy mall.

The customary metal doors that we know of in public johns----often with graffiti with latches that seldom work----stayed behind in America.  Graffiti was still prevalent, however.  

I chuckled in one stall seeing evidence of someone's (certainly from a youthful generation)  epiphany that "he/she was sitting there broken-hearted because of thinking he/she (you know) but only farted.

Wonder how long that jingle has been posted around the Globe by naughty minds thinking they're oh so clever. 

In Ireland I felt like every time I entered a to let---er---toilet, I was walking into a home away from home.

After all those sophisticated, varnished wooden doors at virtually every restroom said "Welcome,"  and I found myself kinda wishing I could afford such a door for my Cape Cod-style home here at the Lovestead.

Sometimes the doors to individual johns were newly constructed, beautiful pieces of wood, as yet unvarnished.  

Besides their cosmetic appeal, they offer the visitors a wonderful sense of privacy.  Nobody's purse or runaway "to let paper" comes invading into one's stall.

It's just you and the toilet with some time to sit there and admire the door.

Now, toilets in Ireland are fairly universal in style.  Unlike those we saw in New Zealand with the two-button flushers, virtually the entire country has invested in those universal, old-style handle flushers.  

Only thing one needs to learn is to hold the thing down, or the removal process does not work-----just a lot of bubbles and a little fizz.  That means you have to start all over again and hold that baby down.

I noticed our hotel toilets required two or three flushes, so occasionally there's just a water pressure problem to deal with. 

We also dealt with an interesting public john along the sidewalk in the downtown area of the little town on the coast where the Titanic set sail.

While Annie waited outside, I went inside, did my thing, pushed the button, waited for the door to open and walked out.  Then, Annie decided she needed to use the facility.  

It wouldn't let her in because the sign outside said the to let--oops---toilet was flushing.  Took that darn thing about five minutes, and I guarantee you that I did not overload it---just No. 1.  

We got to thinking what it must be like if a busload of tourists gets off and they all need to use the facility.

By the time they all finished---with all the going and all the automated flushing and doors refusing to let them in----their allotted time to go check out the Titanic memorabilia would be gone just like the big ocean liner. 

Overall, my "toilet" experiences were quite satisfactory.  I finally learned to ask for the "toilet" rather than the "restroom" cuz the Irish are basic folks.  They don't spend a lot of time resting in that room; in fact, most of us probably don't either.  

We Americans like our euphemisms.  Just like their basic meat and potatoes, the Irish are efficient, nuts-and-bolts folks when it comes to personal matters.  

It's the "Toilet," and if you want a "room to let" or a restroom, you'll have to go somewhere else. 

Good to be home where we know exactly where the facility is---without signs or asking. 

I sure would like one of those fancy to let doors, though,  for the front  entrance of our home.

Memorable Ides; grateful traveler

The best part of trips come in three packages:  the planning, the event itself and home.  I wouldn't want to rank any of the three in terms of importance, but on this Ides of March, 2011, "home" is ranking right up there.  

And, I know that all three aspects of this trip to Ireland with my daughter Annie---the consummate planner, safe driver, full-steam ahead task master, and appreciator and sharer of what's really, really special---all aspects will rank among the cherished moments of my life.

My nostalgic and sentimental Irish soul has been fed---for a long time. 

I want to take this opportunity to thank our "Precious" for all the sacrifices and hours she put forth to make sure Mom had the time of her life.

Oh, yes, we had a few moments as any mother and daughter will do, but even the most tense time of the trip took place in a spot beyond magnificent, overlooking the wild waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

So, if you're gonna have a spat, pick a good spot, right, Annie?

Anyway, on this morning after a sleepless night in Seattle (thank you, jet lag), I thank Annie from the bottom of my heart.  The experience filled my bucket----and let's make that a 10,000 gallon container.

It will take a long, long time to absorb the past 13 days, and that is the beauty of it all. 

Now, I'm going through a few hours of decompression before heading over to Sea-Tac for the last leg of this approximately 16,000-mile journey into the land of my family's ancestry.

Souvenirs to hand over to Bill and Mother are laid out on the bed to be packed for easy access cuz I'll see them first. 

Others are packed away in the new suitcase, and the delight of handing them over to all the principles---family and friends---who have helped out in my absence will be superb.

Seeing Bill at 1 p.m. and probably gabbing all the way home to Sandpoint, stopping off to see Mother and then the final jewel in this journey's crown will come when we pull into the Lovestead driveway.  

When the horses recognize the car and come to the fence, when the door to the garage opens and those doggies come running out and when Kiwi cries like she does whenever I leave for a while----I'm ready for all that and will appreciate the whole scene much more than any other day.

Even the snow that has been lazy about leaving won't bother me.  Home will be beautiful . . . . just as Ireland was.

And, the hustle bustle of trying to catch up on all I've missed in two weeks and all I have to do to get ready for spring will be welcome.

Through it all, my mind will be buzzing for weeks as images and moments of Ireland flash through, making me smile and maybe even cry.  Of course, I'll put on those new Irish CDs to help the process along----one came free in the Sunday paper.

And, of course, I brought home the Sunday paper for my son Willie, the journalism teacher.

I'm anxious to get back to the "morning meetings" with Debbie when she brings the grandpuppies.  Debbie, get ready.  We may not call for "adjournment" as early as usual. 

As we parted last night here at the Red Roof Inn at Sea-Tac, Annie had her customary overloaded agenda ahead.  German lessons at work this morning, catching up with her friends on staff and the opening match for the Seattle Sounders soccer season. 

Somewhere in there, she was hoping to get some sleep, but I'm betting her body might be just as confused as mine, so she'll operate on adrenalin too. 

Lots to look forward to and much more to be thankful for---family, friends, a "grand" trip, and home.

Thank you, Annie.  Good Job!  Thank you to everyone who has helped and followed us on this special journey.  I feel so blessed.