Saturday, January 10, 2026

Saturday Slight



Pretty foggy out there this morning, and as daylight comes, the fog is even more noticeable. 

I'm guessing that when it lifts, we'll have a nice day ahead. 

Bill is heading into Spokane to watch a Lady ZAGS game.  The dogs and I will hang out at home, and I may spend some time with the horses. 

It's nice to have a break in the weather clean-up that has dominated this past week. 










Barbara and Laurie Tibbs, Dolly Crum, Marianne Love. Doug Crum

Five retired educators met for lunch in Bonners Ferry yesterday. 

Two drove over from Libby, while three sisters among the educators drove from Sandpoint.

Common denominator:  horses. 

Dolly and Doug Crum spent their teaching careers in Libby, both specializing in physical education and coaching.  Doug coached wrestling. 

If I recall correctly, Dolly even served as athletic director at Libby High School.  Doug was a wrestling coach.

She also arranged for me to visit her high school and the Libby library when I was still doing author events for my books.  

Dolly has been a horse lover her entire life, so you can imagine that she and Barbara and Laurie have plenty in common. 

It was a fun visit, especially for me because I had not had seen the Crums for a number of years.  

We met at Kootenai River Brewing Co., where the food was great as usual.

Twas definitely a welcome January getaway for all involved. 

💚💙💜  

 

 Yesterday, we did talk about horses and ZAGS and Internet scams AND getting older.  A common problem united us on the "getting older" topic. 

In fact, in both cars, as they were headed to Bonners Ferry, the occupants lamented the problem of getting down to perform a task and then figuring out how the heck to get up again. 

It seems to be a universal dilemma after we reach a certain age. 

At least, we're still figuring out rising-up solutions on our own and not yet to the point of being props for the TV ad, "I've fallen and I can't get up." 

I'm sure our time will come. 

💙💜💛💚


Considering the above topic, I zeroed in on the following paragraphs in the New York Times newsletter earlier today. 

 

The older we get, the more comfortable and calcified we get in our preferences and quirks. 

We like things the way we like them — the thermostat at 68 and not a degree warmer, the aisle seat, steak medium-rare but closer to medium, don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee. 

This self-knowledge is comforting, and central to forming an identity, but it’s also limiting. 

We are used to controlling our environments, to minimizing variables so that we can avoid discomfort.

“No hothouse-flowering,” I’ll silently admonish myself when I notice I’m making my life smaller because of some arcane preference, behaving like an exotic plant that needs too much coddling. 

Usually it has something to do with my physical comfort — if my levels of hunger, body temperature, caffeination and restedness are not calibrated, I might be grumpy, I might decline a social invitation. 

Our grip on our preferences can be so tight that our lives constrict around it.

Wonder if any of these trends look familiar to anyone out there.  I'll raise my hand to "aisle seats" and to the somewhat related tendency of operating the thermostat. 

In our house, it's a dueling event  

I turn it up.  Bill turns it down.

In both cases, there are never witnesses to the respective acts.  

It's a unspoken finger conversation we have every day, and I have a feeling that conversation may never end until we do. 

So, just curious about the absolutes that rule your lives. 










Some hay-field trails.  

I've kept them open after each snow, and it's so nice for walking the dogs. 


Guess that's enough of today's mutterings.  

Have a wonderful Saturday.  

I know I will because I'll have the thermostat all to myself for most of the day. 😇😉






Friday, January 09, 2026

It's Friday, Maybe

 


Every once in a while I have to remind myself what day of the week it is.

The holidays and the days ZAGS games are played and Annie's comings and goings have tended to confuse my mental calendar. 


It used to be that ZAGS games would be played pretty regularly on Tuesdays, Thursdays or Saturdays. 

Nowadays, they might happen on a Sunday afternoon or a Monday or a Friday. 

When they start halfway into our beauty-rest hours, that really gets crazy. 

Those of us who have been programmed to these set schedules get thrown into chaos whenever that schedule varies. 

And, with Annie, sometimes she leaves to go back to Seattle on a Sunday; rarely on a Saturday. 

When Bill took her back to the airport on a Saturday after Christmas, it didn't matter.  I was firmly in Sunday mode and then had to do my Sunday all over again the next day.   

Those changes throw us off with ease. Besides, when one retires, every day is a Saturday, right? 

While on this subject, I'm going to tell you a story today about a basketball game in the past week (on a Saturday) that really disordered my mind. 

Happily, I discovered later that younger minds have had the same experience.

Willie's Bulldogs went to Wenatchee on Jan. 1 for a three-day tournament. 

We were able to stream the games, thanks to Hudl.com. 

The Bulldogs won their first game, which was against Sequim that Thursday afternoon.

On Friday, they didn't do so well against Cheney.  That was kinda okay because my friend Marian, a Blackhawk alum, was happy. 

On the final tournament day--a Saturday--I had my laptop all ready in the morning and tuned in to the Hudl link for the afternoon game against Wenatchee. 

I use the laptop so I can put it on top of Bridie's crate and Bill can watch the game too. 

Game time came.  As had happened every prior day, there seemed to be some stupid glitch getting into the live action. 

So, I pulled out my phone, clicked on the link and kept it going while trying to figure out the problem on the laptop.  There was no figuring to be done.  I never could get into the stream for the Wenatchee-Sandpoint game. 

So, I gave up in disgust and continued to watch the game on my phone, occasionally announcing the score to Bill.   The Bulldogs were doing very well throughout each quarter. 

As soon as the game ended, I proudly posted the score and news of the victory on Facebook. 

A few minutes after that, Daily Bee sports reporter Max Oswald, diplomatically corrected my score (56-40) to 51-39, adding "great win." 

Upon seeing that, I wondered how my score could be so far off and finally rationalized that it was due to the small screen on my phone. 

As is typical for me, the mistake with the score gnawed at me occasionally for the next few days, but that's as far as it went UNTIL I read Max's account of the game in the Daily Bee a few days later. 

What I read was stunning because he wrote that the Bulldogs had recovered from a dramatic deficit at the beginning of the game. 

No way, I thought.  They led the entire time. 

I eventually commented to Bill while handing him the paper that Max's report in no way resembled the game I had watched. 

While mulling this over, I again wondered why my score had differed so much from Max's. 

A lightbulb flashed through my troubled mind.  I acted upon it almost immediately, checking past scores for the Bulldogs.  

Mystery solved.  

I had watched the wrong game---the entire wrong game.  That Saturday afternoon I had once again watched the Sandpoint-Sequim game, which had been played on Thursday.  The final score was 56-40. 

The moral of this story is that if you stream via Hudl, be careful what you're watching.  Hudl keeps all past games in their entirety and you can watch them any ol' time.  

If you hit the wrong button, you'll see live action, but you'd better look closer.  You won't hear much commentary unless the announcer's voice comes through clearly, which is not always the case. 

As Annie says, "I always look for Willie" to make sure she has the right game.  I do the same, but Willie was in the game on Saturday just like he was in the game on Thursday. 

What perpetuated the problem was context. I had been trying to get the laptop version to work for a few minutes at the beginning of the game before finally relying on the phone. I had missed anything that would have given me a clue.  

Plus, the gyms---they're in Wenatchee, and there was nothing I would recognize in the setting to tell me something was amiss. 

So, in the end in my living room, Sandpoint played Sequim twice last week and ironically won by the same score in each game.

After reading the Daily Bee story, I confessed my stupidity to Max who must have thought I was totally crazy when I posted the wrong score.  Lucky for me the Bulldogs won that game, even if I had the wrong score. 

I forwarded my written confession to Max on to my daughter-in-law Debbie, who quickly eased my mind that I may not be ready yet for the looney bin.

"I get it," she said, explaining a Hudl experience she had had earlier in the season.  

That evening Debbie had been relaying scores to me because I wasn't aware the game was being streamed.   She also made some comments on the play-by-play that didn't quite match what we see in usual Bulldog play.  

When I hadn't heard from her for a while and was curious about the final score, she confessed to me:  she finally realized she had been watching the Junior Varsity game all along. 

 Gotta be careful if you stream with Hudl. 

Of course, we know that in the current world anything goes when it comes to seeing what we see and hearing what we hear. 

What looks like our garbage may be another person's treasure in the new reality. It's all in the perspective. 

So, maybe I'm totally in fashion watching the wrong game and reporting the wrong score. 

What day is it anyway?

Happy _________?

  





I'll confess that I nodded off through part of this but was definitely watching the right game. 













Thursday, January 08, 2026

More Snow; TBT

 



More snow last night.  

Bill is out plowing the driveway again.  

Once again, it's beautiful this morning, and I'll be out shoveling some more and doing some more plowing. 

It's winter, finally.  
















This morning I keep thinking and yearning about Norman Rockwell's America. 

From my experiences traveling there, the Midwest exemplifies many of the images by the great painter of Americana that we have in our respective minds. 

And, on this same note, I can't help but think about Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon and the Lutherans and tuna casseroles and jello desserts at the potlucks. 

I also can't stop thinking about the wretched event that happened yesterday in this idyllic place in our country.

And, the fear its citizens are now experiencing. 

Gretchen, who once owned this beautiful place, where we are so lucky to live, now lives in Minneapolis. 

My daughter's best friend and her family live there too. 

Annie visits quite often taking her friend's adorable young boys geocaching or joining the family while attending hockey games or soccer matches or even having pizza instead of tuna casserole. 

Why does Minneapolis need 2,000 ICE agents coming to disrupt its neighborhoods, homes, schools, churches, etc.?

Imagine the same happenings in our beloved community.  

Wonder how Norman Rockwell would paint Americana these days.  

So, so sad and, in my mind, such a ridiculously unnecessary and dangerous use of tough-guy force, especially in that setting. 

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔


Thursday Throwbacks . . . assorteds from the photo library. 


Our neighbor Jack has sold almost all of his herd of polled Herefords, so I probably won't be going to the barn to take baby calf photos this year. 


Our neighbor Tricia, second from the left and an ER doctor, traveled the country, tending to Covid patients during the Pandemic. 


I love the young man above.  He lives just up the road with his grandfather and works in the family law firm. 






Twas the surprise of a lifetime when Swiss Miss showed up at our table in Malin Head, County Donegal, Ireland.  

She flew to Dublin, took a bus to the northernmost part of the the Republic, checked in to a hostel and then walked about a mile to the Seaview Tavern to have dinner with us.  

I happened to be the only one in the restaurant who had no idea. 

Nice 75th birthday surprise. 



Who's that Adam in the photo?





One way to enjoy world surfing championships. 



This is actually one of my daughter Annie's photos.  

Geocachers do strange things when they get together for some marathon caching, especially in the Nevada desert. 


These kids from Selle Valley Carden School are all grown up now and off to college or engaged in their careers. 

I loved it when they'd come to visit, especially with their homemade bird houses. 


Borders and their mini Aussie supervisor. 

Below:  mamas and babies. 




Friends Chris and Edna.  We three all worked for the U.S. Forest Service as traffic survey aides---about 50 years ago. 



Above:  a Bostock-Tillberg gathering at Farmers' Market with some siblings among the group. 

Below:  two authors/writers, known worldwide for their writings meet at Panida Theater.  That would be Marilynne Robinson and Cindy Wooden.  Their topics are different but they're both pretty good at what they do.  Cindy just retired as Vatican Bureau Chief for the Catholic News Service.  Marilynne was born in Sandpoint. 



I saw this item at the 3-Mile Antique store and thought about all the packs of L and M's I smoked while a student at the University of Idaho. 

That stopped cold turkey during the first year of my teaching career when I caught the flu and could not have puffed on a cigarette if I had wanted to. 

I enjoyed smoking but am SO glad I quit. 











On the right, my friend and former student Suzy who has done so well in her life.  

Probably because of that beautiful smile. 





YAY!  

More ZAGmania tonight, but we have to stay up late.

8:30 p.m. ESPN2
 



 
Below:  I still say it's the best four-letter word in the world, and we can never get enough of it in this troubled world.