Saturday Slight

Busy Saturday ahead.  Willie's already been here to pick up his geocaching goodies from Annie.  She brought over a bunch of stuff from Groundspeak for prizes.

Right now, Annie's downstairs chewing on her well-done morning pizza.  Her friends Charity and Siggy (from Germany) are already up from a short night's sleep out in the new old motorhome.

By 8 or so folks will be on the road headed for the high school where Annie will be putting on a geocaching seminar this morning.

I've already been on the road, to feed the neighbors' horse while they're gone for the weekend. 

And, there's the promise of an end to the bad weather.  At least, the birds are singing that song this morning.  And, Tom Sherry assured us that tomorrow and for several days we're going to get a touch of spring.  

Since today looked busy, I drove up to Moose Valley Farms yesterday (my classmate Mary owns the place).  Besides getting in some nice visiting with Maureen and with Mary's sister Patti, I picked up a couple of boxes of flowers and more strawberry starts.  

The weather held long enough in the late afternoon for me to get most of the strawberries into the ground. 

I'm hoping to have time during the day to lug several carts of barnyard gold to the garden.  And, then some planting will start.  

Maybe, just maybe if it stays dry for two days, I can mow the lawn.  

For now, things are starting to get pretty, and I'm figuring by next weekend, this place will be entering the height of its spring beauty.  That will be more appreciated than ever.  

Better get down and visit with our guests.  Have a happy Saturday wherever you are. 

A Friday Kaleidoscope

Yup, I feel this morning like I'm viewing the day through a kaleidoscope---so many images of so many happenings on so many levels.

I know of certain people who started their day early and others who thought they started their day early but found out they were late.

Bill took off early this morning to give a speech at the Elks Club.  He was the main speaker for the Boy Scouts' annual local awareness and fundraising breakfast.  

Debbie is headed to the breakfast as I type.  She called me enroute to tell me that she just learned the breakfast started at 7, not 7:30 as she had thought.  

I asked her if she had watched the royal wedding.  She said, "Yes." 

"How much did you watch?" I asked.

"A lot of it," she said.  

Well, she did better than Annie and me.  Annie checked in on Facebook around 3 a.m., noted that "I've seen the dress; I'm going back to bed."

I watched the wedding twice during the night.  First time was when Kate's mother and brother were escorted in the fancy black car by the motorcycle patrolman.  

When they showed another car headed out, I decided watching cars going to the wedding with a blurry mind was not a good idea.  So I turned it off and went back to sleep.

Later, I awakened about 3:30 in time for the minister to start his homily.  I noted the Queen's yellow outfit and Kate's (now to be known as Catherine---I like that cuz it's my middle name) dress.  It was elegant and very appropriate for her, I thought.

Then, I thought about the long day ahead, with Annie and her friends showing up here sometime before midnight tonight and our staying up too late after their arrival and needing to get up too early on Saturday morning----and I clicked off the remote.  Back to sleep until 5.  

When I came out of the bathroom from taking my bath and dressing, Bill had turned the TV on to watch the royal wedding.  We both watched the two kisses and the overhead flight of the WWII planes before getting back into a routine.

So, the prince has married his princess.  The Boy Scout speaker left in plenty of time.  The Girl Scout rep will arrive at the Boy Scout breakfast fashionably late, and I'll start mucking out this house in preparation for company.

Off in Washington, D.C., at Arlington National Cemetery, today my oldest brother Mike is attending the memorial service for his 1966 West Point classmate John Wheeler III, the former Pentagon official who was brutally murdered a few months ago.

As yet, no clues about who is responsible or why.

Mike was expecting to see a substantial contingent of his classmates at the service.  

And, speaking of the military, I'm leaving you today with a link to a very lovely, ironic story.  The writer posted a note about this story on my website www.mariannelove.com  guestbook last night.

It's a poignant story about his grandparents.  He also used one of my feature stories from Sandpoint Magazine about Farragut Naval Training Station "Sailor's Ahoy"  as a source:  http://www.sandpointonline.com/sandpointmag/sms96/Farragut.html 

So, I am very honored, especially because he penned such a lovely story.  

So, on this Friday, please visit the link and enjoy.

Others have already told me it brought a smile to their day.  Link:  http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/8006389/dying_woman_receives_a_picture_from.html?cat=41

Courtly countdowns and such

Well, the countdown is beginning, or did it begin several months ago?  By the time most of us arise in the morning, the prince will have married his princess.

I've heard lot of snide remarks aimed at people who would waste their time watching the royal wedding, but that doesn't deter me from being mildly interested.  

What does deter me is the timing.  

For one who hits the hay at 9-9:30 and gets up at 5 a.m., I would be lucky to keep my eyes open long enough during live wedding coverage to see some spit-shined doorman do his job with ultimate formality while someone important in the wedding party steps out for all to see.  

That's usually how it is from 8 p.m. on for me.  Last night I managed to watch almost the full 55 minutes or so of Matt Lauer and Meredith Veira's NBC special on the royal wedding.  

But long about 8:50, I was snoozing into another world.

At least, I got to see all the horse activity and a snippet or two on what happens in the barns.  

For a few, brief, shining moments, I felt really connected with the royals as they kept showing those manure carts being lugged down the aisle between the horse stalls.

A touch of the common folk, if you ask me, and a nice sight, indeed.

I like the pomp and circumstance of history, and this event definitely starts a new chapter in the long line of British royalty that we Americans have studied in our history and literature books.  

After all, we're basically one degree of separation from the Brits, so a lot of our traditions and ways could be traced back to the formality they do so well.

I was interested last night to see the hats being selected by wedding guests.  I wondered if those tiny, simple hats with a few prominent feathers which we saw on the heads of some wedding guests in Belfast City Hall last month were possibly the rage.

Looks like there's more substance to at least some of the hats to be worn in tomorrow's ceremony.

I just read that "the dress" is still top secret.  

Well, maybe now is a good time to divulge the long-kept secret that my wedding dress cost $25.  It was hand-made by one of my student's (Lisa Thompson Greene's) mother.  

I picked out some lovely country cotton, trimmed with tiny pink flowers, along with a pattern and handed it over to Mrs. Thompson.  As I think back on it, I believe the bridesmaid dresses and my mother's dress cost a lot more than my wedding gown.

Still, it worked.  Almost 37 years later, the Loves are still the same couple.  

Yeah, the royal family is a long way up the ladder socially from most of us, but I still admire them for their history, their service to country and their interests that relate to us commoners.  

Heck, I'll bet the Queen has maybe even picked up a manure fork and flung a little horse poop in her day. . . behind the scenes, of course. 

It could be that Kate and William may have or might also get that experience some day too.  After all, horses are integral to their lives.

And, that ain't all bad.

Having watched and loved "The King's Speech" twice, I'm looking forward to seeing the reruns of tomorrow's royal wedding and to admiring the beauty of it all, especially those horses. 

Since 1893 . . . .

Two World Wars---and a bunch of other smaller conflicts---invention of the car and airplane and television and microwave and computer and cell phone and election of several Presidents and, yes, even a few royal weddings.

That's just a smidgeon of what has transpired in this world since it rained as much in 24 hours as it did April 25th in Spokane.  Add to that, half a foot of snow in some places. A moisture record that stood since 1893 went down.

Fortunately, we here north of Sandpoint were out of that heavy-duty moisture radar. Oh, we got our rain and snow but not that much.

No wonder people complain.  Of course, all things are relative. Other areas would laugh at the idea of .63 inches in 24 hours, but for our area, that's a major talking point.

Well, this morning it's not raining.  It's not even snowing.  The birds are singing.  That fourth layer worn could have easily been three when I first went to the barn.  I did not wear a stocking cap.  I did roll up my pant legs cuz yesterday's jeans were still wet this morning, requiring a dry pair.

Yesterday, I finished filling my yard planters with lovely barnyard gold , and they now await the planting of this year's veggies and flowers.  

While digging in the well-aged pile of horse manure, shavings, pine needles, etc. near the barn, I've found at least three dozen baby potatoes.  They've been happily living deep down within the warm dirt, with little eyes sprouting.

I think they'll go back into the ground with my hopes of their sprouting some lovely volunteer plants later this spring.

We're getting some definite signs that outdoors projects can maybe happen with more consistency.  The standing water in my lawn needs to go away because the grass is growing and needs some cutting. 

I'm sure that by week's end, each day will be filled with more than enough to do.  

Plus, Annie's coming this weekend and bringing two or three friends.  On Saturday, she'll be putting on a geocaching seminar in Willie's classroom at Sandpoint High School.  

Willie advises an outdoor-experience group, so the students will be learning about geocaching and putting it into practice. 

He and Debbie have put out a few caches for them to find once Annie's finished with her presentation.  

Kinda neat to have the kids working together again.  Last time they did so was when they collaborated as deejays on a radio program called Ten9 at Boise State University.  

And, while I'm thinking of school stuff, I'd like to let folks know that I have some petitions for repealing Idaho's recently enacted education reform, along with a recall petition for our state superintendent of public education.

If anyone is interested in signing petitions for either of these statewide moves initiated by concerned citizens, give me a call or send me a message.  I'll find a way to get the petitions to you.  You need to be a Bonner County resident.  I'll have the petitions for the next week or so.

I strongly support the need to revisit this highly controversial issue and slow it down a bit.  I also encourage the powers-that-be to spend a little more time researching the situation and this time involving all entities in the mix while developing their plans---namely the school teachers who will be expected to implement the "reform."

Speaking of support, I'd also like to make note of a good latte place I discovered yesterday.

I finished as many projects as I could inside and outside with the off-and-on rain, so off to town I drove to run a couple of errands. 

Whenever I get just a little bit bored, I like to do something different. I seldom have lattes in the afternoon after being charged up with them in the morning during blog writing.

Last week----when it was really raining as opposed to 'sorta raining'---I drove all the way into downtown Sandpoint and tried a double mocha at Heavenly Latte on Second and Cedar.  Suddenly, the sun came out.  Now, that's latte power!

Yesterday I opted to stop at Magic Beans on Bonner Mall Way near Les Schwab's.  The owner looked familiar, and I learned soon that I had met her in passing a few weeks ago.

That $2.95 double mocha, 16 oz. special worked some magic too. Turns out we're new friends, and we had a hard time keeping up with each other as we enthusiastically swapped our stories.  

DeMaris Whitney Hoyt, the owner, comes from Potlatch, and she knows a lot of the same folks I know (for outlaws in our family,  please note the O'Reilly's).  

I also learned that she and her family live right in our neighborhood here in Selle.  She's a veteran who served in the Air Force,  and she's one very nice lady.

So, if you're in the Bonner Mall area, pull in and try out her goodies.  

Thanks, DeMaris for a good latte and a fun visit. 

On that note, my latte is almost gone, so that signals time to sign off and get outside before another rainstorm decides to dump.

Happy Wednesday.

Tuesdaytwitterdeedrizzledeedum

The rain and some snow have returned.  One local veterinarian just posted on Facebook that she has now worked six months of the past year in snow.  I think she might be as tired of snow as the rest of the general population around here.

I won't comment this morning, since I have a few indoor jobs to complete.  Bad weather assures more attention to indoor projects. Otherwise, they could sit for months.

One item on my "to do" list today involves some more cleaning in the shop attached to our house.  That area has been home to the cats since we moved here almost five years ago.

I've been almost manic about making sure my animals are inside and safe at night.  The only problem with this philosophy is that other animals, not listed on the official Lovestead roster, have decided they need to be safe at night too.

Knock on wood.  We have discouraged, for the time being anyway, these univited guests, namely MICE,  to stay out of our house proper.  They have hung out in the shop, only to turn into carnage lying on the cement floor.

In fact, yesterday I swept one out of the shop in two parts.  Head separated from body.  Our cats are not in to eating whole mice, especially with an overflowing dish of Meow Mix always available. 

So, they just leave the body parts for me to remove from their cushy home.

Now, let's switch over to the barn.  Not one cat (cuz they're too damn lazy in the comforts of their shop), has set foot in the barn for at least a couple of years. 

This winter, the barn has been overrun with mice---bold mice, friendly mice, hungry mice, thieving mice---every version of derelict mice you can think of lives in our barn. 

Case in point.  Last night while clipping Heather in her stall, I watched a mouse leave the stall and go stand beside Annie Dog, who was sitting in the barn aisle.

Before I had started clipping, I noticed that Heather had not eaten all of the skiff of grain I had dropped into her bucket earlier in the day.  When I stepped up closer to the bucket, a mouse raced around in circles at the bottom of the bucke.

Apparently the little critter had figured out how to get in the bucket but not out.  So, I tipped it to one side, and the mouse jumped out---probably the same one that sat beside Annie Dog.

But it's possible that it could have been a different mouse, considering the sheer numbers that go racing 50 different directions if I step inside the barn at night.

Last week I decided to employ a method to catch and dispose of a bunch of them.  After studying a multiple-mouse trap set-up used by another family member, I wasted no time getting a bucket, grabbing a tomato stake and a piece of paper.  

I taped the paper to the tomato stake, slathered it with peanut butter and put it atop the bucket which was half-filled with water.  The idea was that the mice would step on the stake in hopes of their licking up the peanut butter on the paper.  

The stake would roll to the side, and there would be a mini cannonball as each mouse hit the water.  I've been told mice do not know how to swim.

Next morning two drowned mice were floating in the bucket. I figured if this worked so well, I'd have to set up a few more buckets.  Well, before I followed up on that plan,  a couple of days went by, and the mice figured out the system.

Somehow, twice, they knocked the tomato stake and peanut-butter paper to the ground and licked up every last drop of peanut butter.

That's when I decided LAZY CATS were going to work.  So, I moved their little houses/apartments---whatever you want to call them---to the tack room in the barn.  

Then, I brought the two laziest cats, Fuzzy Wuzzy and Lonesome Love, to the barn and showed them their new home.

Festus is still having free run of the place cuz, after all, he has to go over to Meserve's to eat their mice. 

Anyway, morning has come.  Cats were quite happy in their new quarters.  

Only problem this morning, the mice were still as happy and bold as ever.  

Tonight I'll open the tack room door just before buttoning up the barn for the night.  I'm figuring/hoping that those cats will venture out and discover the great rodent smorgasboard possibilities in their midst.

One of two things will happen.  I'll find some chewed-up carnage in the morning.

Or, I'll find cats sleeping in the hay while mice are sleeping in their houses and eating their food. 

The beat "of Mice and Marianne" will continue until I find a way to rid the barn of all those creepy crawlers.  In the meantime, it's a rainy day, and I can spend part of it cleaning up the shop.

Happy Tuesday.

Soakin' it up . . . .

One of my favorite spots to photograph any time of the year.

Taylor's field, about half a mile north of us, and taken from aboard Miss Lily on our first ride of 2011.

It was the best of times outdoors and the most delicious of times indoors on this past Easter weekend.

With that first blast of sunshine sticking around for more than five minutes, the weekend was filled with fishing, lawn work, horses, listening to song birds, frolicking in fields with dogs, sitting and watching dogs and sitting and soaking up some of that much awaited warmth from the sun.

Mother, Barbara, Laurie, Willie and Debbie came to the Lovestead for dinner late yesterday afternoon.

Mother enjoyed coming early and sitting outside for nearly three hours as dogs and cats surrounded her.

Our dinner was sumptuous, especially the red velvet cake, the strawberry rhubarb pie and vanilla ice cream.

To work off just a few of the calories before dessert, a couple of generations of us walked to the hay field, along with some happy and playful dogs.

Couldn't ask for a better weekend. 

Enjoy the photos. 

On this day . . .

Have a blessed and Happy Easter.

Saturday Slighteth Spring

 

When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing . . . . 

--William Shakespeare

Born:  April 23, 1564, Died April 23, 1616

Happy Birthday, dear William.  

We shall not talk about his death today because this is truly a day designed for awakening the senses and the hope of growth, both tangible and intangible. 

I said to Bill this morning that it is amazing how an early-morning appearance of a sun that intends to stay all day dramatically changes everything around us.

I do believe the birds are singing louder on this glorious April morning. 

My first trip to the barn on this day was filled with an extra dose of exhilaration.

A grand day lies ahead, and I'm sure that just about everyone who has felt so burdened with gray and wet and gloom for so long is experiencing some added adrenalin today.  

Truly a wonderful gift. 

That's the way I look at the pleasant weather after what has seemed like an endless pall.

Timing could not be better.

It's Easter weekend, and the hope that comes with the Easter celebration fits right in with Mother Nature's gift to us today.

Happy Saturday.  Happy Easter.

Enjoy all your God-given gifts.

I tried . . . .

Beauty isn't always just skin deep. Sometimes it's just not there. And, when they say someone had a face that only a mother could love.  

 

Well, some cookies have an appearance that would scare even the meanest of cookie monsters away.  

 I don't know if Bill selected any from this plate to take in his lunch today.  I do know that I encouraged him a couple of times, and he just kinda grunted. 

These are my first and last attempt to come up with a prototype for some real, true-to-life lemon-filled Oreo-ho-hos. 

I call them Oreo-ho-hos because I don't want to get into any copyright or patent infringements.  

I also dubbed them Oreo-ho-hos after they came out of the oven and I used three tools to try to get them to separate from the bottom of the baking dish.

They turned out to be pretty much a joke. 

Here's the ho-ho story.

It was raining and snowing yesterday.  That's not really news---just a scene setter.

I believe some of us here are finally submitting to the idea that waiting for it to stop raining is not gonna get a lot of stuff done.

I'd already done my stint outside in my snowpants during the morning hours, raking out a few other flower spots and picking up dog droppings.

That's about all I wanted to do in the rain, so I spent several hours indoors. 

Part of that time was spent doing some family research, and the rest involved fulfilling a notion that has been swirling around in my head ever since that terrorist said those Oreos I brought to the book club meeting were not lemon-filled . . . just yellow-filled. 

That notion actually evolved from all these people who read my blog and believed that I had actually found lemon-filled Oreos at the grocery store and went looking themselves to come up empty-handed.

I figured if the combination sounded so good to them, maybe I could develop such a cookie and get a corner on the market.

Well, after yesterday, I'm not quite ready to call my banker to figure out what to do with the investments.

As I explained to my daughter-in-law yesterday---if I took some Betty Crocker brownie mix and made thin slabs of chocolate stuff instead of full-fledged puffed up brownies, I could have the makings for those stuffed cookies.

 I could remove the slabs from the pans, cut 'em in squares and then put some of that lemon-flavored frosting in between for sandwiches.

So, the day before I had already picked up the brownie mix and spent a fortune for a tiny bottle of lemon extract. 

 When the yucky weather drove me inside, I decided it was time to go into my creative cooking project. 

So, I got out the bowls, the mix and went to work.  Yes, I did put oil in the bottom of the baking pans. 

Well, the buzzer rang in the oven, and I checked the slabs.  Still soft.

So, I left them for ten more minutes.

After taking them out of the oven, I left them to cool and whipped up the high-priced frosting.

When it was time to make the first ever Lovestead original Oreo-ho-ho, I realized very quickly it would be a time-consuming process.

 First, I tried removing a few squares with a knife.  Then, I moved on to the fancy metal pancake turner Bill bought at Merwin's.

The squares held tight.

Then, I pulled out the cake spatula, purchased at Panhandle Animal Shelter's thrift store last week.  It's pointed and sharp.

Still no luck.

So, I spent considerable time, slowly working the orginal spatula beneath the slab squares.  Some squares exploded into several tiny pieces in the process.

I was able to remove a few but not without considerable bodily injury---not to myself but the cookies, as you can see in the photo.

Still not daunted, I figured they might not look pretty but they'd surely taste good.

 I slopped on some frosting and made a few cookie sandwiches.

Of course, I ate the prototype.  Overall assessment:  chewy, a bit crunchy but tasty. 

 What's on the plate is the grand total made from two boxes of brownie mix.

After chipping away for another ten minutes or so, I took the pyrex dishes full of cemented brownie slabs and filled each with water.  

They sat on the counter for a couple of hours, allowing the cooked dough to separate from the pan and turn into a bread-and-milk consistency.

Water was drained off; brownie dough went into a garbage bag.

I suppose I could have turned over the slabs to the dogs---but I have been formerly warned about feeding brownies to dogs.

Besides, even their sharp teeth could never have scraped the stuff from the pan.

 I told Bill this morning about my lame efforts to come up with the cookie of the century.

"Well, there's a reason Oreo's have a patent and a corner on the market," he commented.

Now that I've shared this story,  I'll go downstairs and see if he ever took any of the pathetic attempts at Lovestead Oreo-ho-hos with his lunch today. 

My overall conclusion:  somebody needs to write to the Oreo company and tell them to come up with a lemon-filled cookie.  

I bet they'd make millions, cuz they don't have to worry about competition from the Lovestead Oreo-ho-hos.  

Bite off the bottom last

It all began yesterday when I was talking to Delores.  She's Myrt Burnett's daughter, and she knows what it's like to have brothers.  

I do have sisters, but the first 12 years of my life were spent being the girl with two older brothers.

So, I can relate to various stages in the family dynamics.  

Before I go further, I'll simply identify most of the people in the photo.  That's me on the left, then my mother, then some talkative nice lady from Burnt Ranch, Calif.  My three brothers are to my left:  Jim (the youngest sibling), Kevin and Mike.

We went on a family journey together back in 2004.  Among other places, it took us to Burnt Ranch, where my mother spent some of her early childhood years.  

The unnamed lady in the photo was quite happy to tell us everything she knew about the place, located in the mountains and the Trinity River drainage.

Before moving to Burnt Ranch and even spending some time living in San Francisco, my mother lived near Wallace, ID.  And, that knowledge turned on a light bulb when I was talking to Delores.

 She told me how her mother spent her early childhood in Rose Lake before moving to Coeur d'Alene.  Well, Mother has often talked about trips to Rose Lake among her scattered memories as a small child.  

When I brought up the conversation about Myrt's beginnings in Rose Lake, Mother said, "Oh yes, we've talked about that."  They're about 3.5 years apart in age, so Myrt could have still been there at the same time Mother was hanging out in the area.

In our afternoon visit, Mother also told me about the ice cream cone.  It was her first ever.  Her dad had driven her to Rose Lake from the farm where they were living at the time.  

She remembers the car having a big wide running board and that there were a lot of people at the store that day.  She thinks there may have been a drowning in the lake, bringing the traffic through the area.

Her dad bought her the first ice cream cone she had ever seen.  So, she took it to the car, stood on the running board and bit off the bottom of the cone.  It wasn't long before ice cream was melting and dripping all over the car's running board.

"I don't know why that stands out so much in my memory," she told me.  She did learn to wait until the end to eat the bottom of ice cream cones.

I wasted no time recalling to her a somewhat similar story that stands out in my memory.  Mother, my two older brothers and I were enroute to Michigan in our brand-new 1958 Ford ranchwagon.  

That was the era of the Big Boy Restaurants, and that was the era when they sold 10 hamburgers for a dollar.  We were in Northern Michigan.  It was lunch time, and we spotted a Big Boy. 

Mother pulled in.  Besides all those Big Boys (I told Bill this morning that our crew could have easily finished off $2 worth of those Big Boys cuz we were human pigs), we ordered milk shakes.  

I selected strawberry.  I don't remember enjoying one sip of that milk shake.  What I do remember is spilling it all over the back seat, and I do remember Mother being a little mad (no exaggeration here) about the mess in the new car.  

I lived through it, and so did the car.  But I never forgot the experience. 

I also never forgot the time when I was a first grader and Helen Crockett took me to Bonners Ferry where her daughter Sally was cheering at a basketball game.  Afterward, we went to a restaurant for a burger and coke.

When I opened the ketchup bottle to pour some on my burger, the contents flowed as if a dam had burst.  I enjoyed a little hamburger with my ketchup that day.  And, never forgot the awkwardness of the experience.

I'm also sure that my son Willie and all present never have forgotten the chicken fondue experience at the Daarstad house.  

Willie was young at the time and had no idea that the raw chicken should be dipped in the hot fondue oil before eating it.  

We all got a good laugh and Willie learned an instant lesson about fondue.

Anyway, it's amazing how a few facts, blasted from the past, will conjure up even more good stories.  

In these cases, the awkward moments of life and eating----all good anecdotes and good memories---even if they turn good after the fact.

~~~

Doggies are here, so I must go.  Your assignment:  comment on your awkward memories.  

They make books out of this stuff, ya know!

Happy Thursday.

Shining Moments

Some of the family gathered for an early version of Easter dinner last night.

It was a lovely meal and a great get-together.  My sister Barbara, on the left, told us about her adventures in Anaheim over the weekend:  the blisters from so much walking, finding Angels stadium when they weren't really looking for it and the general fun they had with a nice group of students.

That's my sister Laurie next to her, Bill, and, of course, my mother.  We'll probably figure out in a day or so what we'll be doing for the main Easter event, but last night's dinner was a nice start to the week.

The evening included some shining moments around town also, as five new honorees were named as Sandpoint-area Women of Wisdom.  They include Myrt Burnett, Barbara Eacret, Jane Gould, Helen Tapp and Sally Transue.

Since I was at dinner at the same place where Myrt and her family were dining, I brought my camera just in case she was named.  We had a plan whereby if she was chosen, Kathy Chambers would call me and then I'd be around to snap photos while she received the news.

The best part was that some of her family were there too.  I don't think there was a dry eye among the group as Myrt attempted through the noise to hear what Kathy was saying to her on the phone.

Lots of happy folks and a lady very, very deserving of this honor, as are they all.  Congratulations to Sandpoint's 2011 Women of Wisdom.   They'll be honored at a couple of social events in June.

There was a shining moment the night before last in Moscow, and we're proud to announce that one of our family members was honored.

My niece Laura Laumatia received an award for her outreach work as extension agent for the Coeur d'Alene Tribe.

The press release notes:   Outreach and Engagement Excellence Award---Laura Laumatia, assistant professor and Extension educator, Coeur d’Alene Extension Reservation, College of Agricultural and Life Sciences.

Laura was among a group of University of Idaho professors honored for their work in education.  Congratulations, Laura.  We are proud of you.

The sun is shining this morning, so provides us another moment or two to smile. 

The only unshining moment deals with my computer which seems to have reached new frontiers in sluggishness.  Would you believe I've been sitting here for almost an hour and waiting for things to come alive.

So, I'll cut my losses and call it good.  Am hoping my photo of Myrt will show up below.  Have a great day, filled with shining moments of your own. 

Tuesday Twitterdeedum

My bobblehead:  Mr. Felix.

Well, Debbie and Willie came by yesterday afternoon to pick up the pups. 

They also brought a bag of goodies, which I presumed were from Disneyland.

Two were from Disney Town---souvenir key chain and candy.

But then there was a box, which looked a bit familiar from a week or so ago.

We now have our own Felix Hernandez bobblehead, and we shall treasure it.

I don't know that it looks that much like Felix.  Doesn't he sometimes tip his hat to the side?

Still, it will sit in a prominent place near the television set, so we can think of Felix whenever we watch the Mariners play ball.

I think the bobblehead peeps have just scratched the surface in possibilities. Think of hometown bobbleheads of note.  I'm wondering who would earn the right to be the first Sandpoint bobblehead.

Note that I used "peeps" in that sentence above.

Apparently, I've had my bobblehead in the sand for most of my life because I did not know about edible peeps until I went to the terrorist book club last week.

Somebody mentioned the peeps on the table so I looked around at the salads, the kool aid,  and pasta and mini breads.  There was only one plate left and it had pink things.  

That's when Kathy, the home ec expert, told me all about peeps.  That's  also when the other terrorists probably thought privately to themselves "where has this knucklehead been living all her life?"

Anyway, since then, I've been hearing about peeps every morning when I go out and shovel poop.  

Peeps and poop make for fascinating conversation, I'll tell you.  As I'm shoveling the poops into the cart, Derek and Jeff on K102 country station are commentating about the peep competitions at their radio station. 

Sometimes the guys get a little risky---or would that be "risque" in their commentary when describing what a purple peep is doing to a yellow peep.  

I even get disgusted with their insinuations, but am glad that at least I now know what they're talking about.  I can just imagine those marshmallow wonders performing quite the antics at the radio station. 

I think I'll have to go to the store and buy my own peeps for this year's Easter celebration.  

My mother doesn't know it yet, but she is getting some palm pets for Easter.  They're pretty, yellow and furry.  I know she'll enjoy them, but I must admit the purchase had her in mind, but I'm anxious to watch them walk around and talk on the tables or floor or palms of our hands. 

We all have that perennial child in us, and it comes alive when someone gives us a bobblehead or a palm pet or tells us at age 64 just what peeps are.  

So, since I have to get in the car and go pick up my daughter-in-law who is still carless in Sandpoint, I'll wish all bobbleheads, peeps, knuckleheads and palm pets a lovely day. 

Monday Miscellany

Well, just like the Kansas City Royals did not sweep the Seattle Mariners over the weekend, I failed to come off with a clean sweep with Brooke, the runaway Border Collie.

And, it was OH so close.

Less than an hour remained of unrestrained doggie daycare; it was minutes before "60 Minutes," and I still had to give Lefty a sponge bath on his neck, which I had clipped during the day. 

The sponge bath with an oatmeal shampoo is just the latest new attempt of my ongoing effort to get the little guy to quit rubbing his hide out.

With towel, two containers of warm water and shampoo in hand, I opened the gate to the outdoor dog kennel.  Of course, Brooke and Todd eagerly followed me to the barn.  After all, keeping horses in line IS their job.

Only problem is that when the horses are in their box stalls, Brooke and Todd get a little exhuberant in jumping up toward Lily and reminding her to behave.  Lily gets mad and starts pawing her stall and trying to nip at them.

So, not wanting that doggie/horsie commotion while working with Lefty, I asked them to step outside.  

That's all Brooke needed.  She knew the second the barn door closed that I'd be focused on Lefty inside.  It was her time, finally.  

She bolted.

It took me all of about five minutes to finish my sponge bath on Lefty and return him to his stall.  As I stepped from the barn door, Bill stood at the door to the house, announcing, "Alicia called.  Brooke is over there."  

So, in the bottom of the ninth, Brooke scored a big run.  A few minutes later she was back at home plate, with the door shut. 

Speaking of "60 Minutes," one of the authors for whom I have undying respect, Jon Krakauer, appeared on the show last night.  I may have mentioned, meeting Mr. Krakauer a few years ago at a book event in Spokane.  He gave me a personally autographed copy of his book Into the Wild.

This was an impressive gesture, but what's more impressive is his research and ability to tell a compelling story.  Like Laura Hillenbrand's work, Krakauer's investigative tales of real-life high drama are page turners. 

So, when the name Greg Mortenson, author of Three Cups of Tea,  appeared as the subject of one of the "60 Minutes" segments, I listened up.  

And, I really listened up when Jon Krakauer appeared, vehemently disputing some of Mortenson's claims in his nonfiction books that have netted him millions and turned him into a author and cult hero of sorts.  

Krakauer granted Mortenson his due for opening up educational possibilities in Pakistan and Afghanistan, but he and several others also pointed out discrepancies in his "true" stories and that Mortenson's humanitarian efforts/program have created his own personal ATM machine. 

Mortenson appeared in Spokane recently at Gonzaga University, as he continues to appear for big bucks at speaking around the country and the world. 

One does wonder---after seeing this "60 Minutes" segment and watching Mortenson's reluctance to defend himself before the cameras---what is the real rest of the story.  

Maybe it will unfold in the next few days, but it reminds me vividly of another author a few years ago, who was exposed for not telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth in his NONfiction book A Million Little Pieces.

What's puzzling about this situation is that,  as Jon Krakauer pointed out last night, the truth alone would have been compelling enough---why embellish it?  

And, the overall sad part is that if the disputing of Mortenson's claims in his books are all true, he still collects millions.

Reminded me of the cartoon in this morning's Spokesman where the big tough guy was gonna come down hard on all those teachers/scumbags who fail the system and get rid of them while the CEO's who failed and screwed up the financial world got healthy bonuses. 

On a more positive note, yesterday for a few hours Bill and I escaped the "nice" day here at the Lovestead, which included rain, snow, hail, wind and, yes, some token sunshine.  

They warned us on KREM last night that the nice day "all across the Inland Northwest" was gonna turn bad today.  

If yesterday was good, I don't want to see bad anymore.

At Farragut, however, we did some walking and geocaching with only a few minutes of snow spitting at us.  

While finding four caches, Bill reminisced a lot about his visits there with the Boy Scouts for the big jamborees in 1969 and 1973.  Overall, it was a pleasant outing and a nice escape from mud. 

Finally, some high school journalists and their chaperones returned to Sandpoint from sunny Los Angeles during the wee hours of this morning.  Some of these sleepy heads might even be at school as I type.

In addition to their sixth place overall in the Best of Show at the national convention, Molly Burgstahler took a superior medal for copy editing.  Two other Cedar Posters, Evan Metz and Maria Guida,  brought home honorable mentions in editorial cartooning and feature writing.

Congratulations to the students.

Guess that's enough for this Monday.  I'll see if a few photos will post to go along with all this miscellaneous muttering.   Have a great day.

Sunny Sunday, maybe

Brooke and Kea

I could hear rain hitting the roof when I got up at 5 this morning.  Later, I put a comment on Facebook that it had stopped and maybe we would have a nice day.

My friend Jeanne chimed in that it was snowing in Coeur d'Alene.  Another friend said Hayden was receiving white stuff too.

The rain has stopped, and the sun has come out.  For that I am thankful.  And, I shall remain thankful throughout the day if it continues.

The paper had not yet come when I finished morning chores.  So, I came inside and grabbed my camera to take a few photos while waiting.  

First spot was the lettuce patch next to the dog kennel.  In spite of all the weather-related hardships we've had through this portion of spring, I'm very happy about the looks of my lettuce.  

I planted it in the the pots with several dividers.  And, each plant seems just right for putting into the ground.  With luck, they'll spread out, and this little patch will have us enjoying some spring salads in a few weeks.  

I've got lots more where these came from and will stick a few more in the ground today.  

I snapped a few photos from the front yard also.  Doggies were waiting a safe distance from the road while I wandered about the lush green and wet lawn.  

While taking photos to the east and back toward the barn by the poplar trees, I listened to Bullet barking at Gary's.  I listened closely for the sound of a car rolling down the road, making occasional stops to drop off papers.

And, I delighted in the sounds of all the birds flittering about, including the pair of geese who flew overhead, honking their way over to Taylor's. 

During that time a train over to the west drowned out most of the sounds, so I gave up on hearing that paper deliverer coming down the road and concentrated on some more pictures.  

I like whimsey, so you'll notice that blue horse shoe next to the painted wagon wheel.  I have red shoes and yellow shoes scatterd about different areas in the yard.  

I'm thinking about going really crazy and maybe painting my new planter yellow.  It's that Irish influence where colors are bright and loud.  

For now, dry weather days will include finishing up the paint job on the fence and the front deck planters-----just red and white.

Once the train moved on down the tracks, I did hear a car turn on to South Center Valley Road.  I heard it stop down by Kaubles, so the paper was coming.

Then, the guy just drove by to the north, so I figured it was a false alarm and headed for the house.  Halfway there, though, I heard a car stop and start to the north.  Turns out the paper deliverer had a couple of boxes up the road and chose to do those first.

So, I waited until he took off and grabbed my papers.  Some good and interesting reading in this morning's editions, including the fact that our friend Susie Haskins was named Idaho Educator of the Year.

She's a kindergarten teacher at Farmin Elementary, and she's a dedicated soul.  We enjoyed working with Susie several years ago when she was an usher extraordinaire for the Festival at Sandpoint.  

I can't think of a more deserving individual for this award. Nice way for Susie to top off her teaching career.  Bill says she's taking home her gold fish---which she's had in her classroom---for the last time this June.

Congrats to Susie!

What's NOT in this morning's papers is that the SHS Cedar Post took 6th place in Best of Show for high school newspapers 8 pages and under at yesterday's JEA national convention awards assembly.  Last year they took 7th, so they're climbing toward the top.

Congrats to Willie and his staff.

This morning the Monticola and Cedar Post students will be sitting in an audience of 4,000 other high school journalists, hoping to pick up a few individual awards from their write-off contests, held on Friday. 

Saturday Slightly Accentuating

"You've got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative.  Don't mess with Mr. In-Between."

I don't even know Mr. In-Between, so I'm not gonna talk about him this morning.  

I shall accentuate, eliminate and latch on to, if at all possible.  The aim is to refrain from cynicism on this pleasantly wet and muddy and slop-filled morning. 

Let's see if I can succeed.

I really like my Seattle Sombrero, and I'm thinking that I  look pretty trendy wearing it with my barn coat over three layers of tops, including a fleece AND my snow pants.  It's definitely THE look for North Idaho in times of interminably wet and muddy weather.  

The hat keeps the rain off my head.  The coat protects the tops underneath.  The snowpants keep my pants cuffs from getting wet up to the calves.  And, by the way,  I'm referring to my legs---not cow babies.  Cow babies would disappear in the muck here at the Lovestead. 

The barn boots have held out through this winter.  No holes.  Feet dry most of the time. 

On another positive note, today Lefty at least changed sides when he rubbed another raw, hot spot on his neck overnight.  At least he's distributing the battle scars.  That's a plus, for sure. 

He's an equal-opportunity horse when it comes to his masochistic ways.  I'm glad to have instilled that in him. 

 My lawn is almost completely fertilized.  For some odd reason, we had several hours of dry weather yesterday.  

It wasn't in the cards, but I took it anyway, walking and walking and walking with my little fertilizer spreader, hurrying to get it all done before those dark clouds came over the mountain and started us on our latest deluge.

While I was out in the front yard with the spreader, my friend and competitor for beautiful neighborhood yards, Janice, pulled over to the driveway.  She saw me out there pushing something and was afraid I'd already started mowing my lawn.  

Of course, Janice, being married to a heavy-equipment operator,  knows that anything heavier than a few pounds would decimate a lawn in these moist times.  So, when she saw the fertilizer spreader, she was relieved to know I had not lost my mind---just yet, anyway.

I knew I could count on the rain to do its thing with my fertilizer.  So, that makes me happy.  

Yesterday, I also stuck two lettuce plants in the garden plot around the dog kennel,  and they're still alive this morning. Didn't even float away.

So, this morning, I latched on to the affirmative and planted four more. I planted them in the same place where I thought I was planting lettuce about a week ago when I so foolishly thought it was safe to plant lettuce starts outside.

Later, when it froze that night and those little plants wilted all over the soil, I also realized some further foolishness.  They were NOT lettuce plants; they were from my limited supply of baby petunias, started from seed.  

Don't plant baby petunia starts outside in North Idaho in April---ever.  I'm feeling positive this morning because I have now learned that lesson.  

Lettuce plants do much better, and it's especially good to have a critical, trained eye when you select those little green things out of the greenhouse pots to put them in the ground. 

On another positive front, I must say that my record with my grandpuppy Brooke this week is much better than that of the Seattle Mariners.  

So far, since Willie and Debbie headed off for Los Angeles Wednesday night, Brooke has not sneaked off to the neighbor's even once.

And, I'm keeping score.  Brooke has attempted to sneak off to the neighbor's four times, but I have closely watched her strategy of acting rather nonchalant while other dogs look upward at a squirrel in a tree or when other dogs play with the blue ball out in the hay field.

Brooke waits until she thinks I'm out of sight.  What she does not know or hasn't learned yet is that I AM WATCHING her, hidden from sight.  

My strategy is to make sure that Brooke is fully committed to disappearing, allowing her to get to the gate from the hayfield into the woods or halfway down the pathway through the woods.  

At that point the loudest, most vicious sound echoes through the Selle Valley, waking up all chickens and ducks and sleeping dogs:   BROOKE, YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!

Yup, I've caught her four times, and she has not succeeded in sneaking off once in the last three days.   So, that's a positive. 

On another positive note, I saw on Facebook that Willie, Debbie, Barbara and the local journalism students got to listen to journalist Lisa Ling and her sister yesterday at the convention.  

Willie tweeted that she had shared some inspiring stories with the students. So, that's pretty cool. 

Finally, the birds are singing up a storm out there----oops, why did I say that?  I should instead say that the birds are singing through the clean, moist morning air and doing their very best to accentuate the positive.  

With their inspiration,  I'm going to latch on to the affirmative and make the most of this day, especially when I'm slogging around in my trendy outdoor ensemble.  

Happy Saturday.

Of Greene Gardens and Such

Mark Greene told me about his tomatoes shortly after I returned from Ireland.  We ran into each other at the garden section at Home Depot that day.  And, of course, garden talk monopolized the conversation.

"Come and get some tomato plants," he told me.  I didn't have the nerve to tell him at the time that I had at least 30 of my own 'maters, which Bill had been watering in my absence.

Still, Mark's were a different variety, designed for cold-weather areas, so I thought it would be nice to accept his offer.

As usual, other projects caught up with me and I didn't go pick up the tomatoes.  So, Mark called yesterday and reminded me to come by.  I also detected an in-between-the-lines message that his greenhouse was filling up.

Well, so is mine.  So, I went out and did some rearranging before calling him back. 

"I have room for maybe four tomato plants," I told him.  He said he'd be home for most of the afternoon, so I promised to stop by.

Mark moved here a few years ago from California where he owned a ski shop in Sacramento.  Since then, he's been helping out at the Alpine Shop and running a lawn-grooming business.  

We've also watched his greenhouse take shape over the past couple of years; he lives next door to my sisters'.  And, over the past couple of years, he's been very generous, bringing his garden goodies to them. 

Well, I must say that when I walked away from his beautiful greenhouse, assembled with many items from various venues and friends---including a wood stove that puts out toasty heat and a wonderful 360-degree view---I felt on top of the earth. 

Mark and I and hosts of other folks  share that same passion for working in the dirt and watching things grow.  He's much more organized than I, and it will be a cold day in North Idaho (or should I say hot?) before I ever invite him to see my helter-skelter greenhouse. 

It's one of those that fits the saying: it ain't purty but it gets the job done.
 

I thoroughly enjoyed listening to his stories of his mother's influence as a gardener and how he always wanted to take it up,  but never had the space until he moved up here. 

He told me how his son has joined the garden club at Kootenai School and has developed an interest in putting his own seeds in the dirt and watching them sprout.  There's a chart hanging on the wall, detailing the progress of each seed packet.

Mark also pointed to items around the greenhouse, telling me about doors that came from the Colburn dumpsite, windows given to him by friends, framework that came from Wal-Mart's remodel, etc. 

He demonstrated me how he uses a small gas funnel to pour his potting soil into the containers, then turns it over and uses the small end to poke holes in the soil for the seeds.  I think I'll get a funnel.  

He picks up "For Sale" signs, slices them into little rectangles and uses them for labeling the pots.

And, while we visited, he picked out more than four tomatoes to send home with me.  I almost jumped up and down when he handed over six raspberry starts in pots.  

When we moved here to the Lovestead, I brought along several raspberry bushes given to me several years ago by Bob Nesbitt. 

Unfortunately, the first winter here, they all died.  Since then, the Meserves have given me starts as have the Dolsby's.  So, my raspberry patches are in various stages of development and somewhat limited.

To plant six new starts yesterday felt every bit as exciting as opening Christmas presents.  My box also contained a couple of strawberries, a lemon cuke, some broccoli, and a romain lettuce start, along with those tomatoes. 

The best part of the day, however, was visiting with a kindred soul who loves dabbling in the earth and just can't quite explain why 

I think the motives are a pretty universal challenge for gardeners to express.  The reasons are often inexplicable, and the inner feelings and satisfaction that go along with daily gardening are indescribable----but almost always good. 

Can't wait to bite into a lemon cucumber this summer!

Thursday This and That

~~Circa: 1993-94~~ 

There's Keith Chaiet, there's good ol' whatzhizname, there's William E. Love III and there's Luke Omodt.

Where are they standing with their pasty white legs?

They're getting some sun in Disneyland. 

I dug this photo out this morning because as I type, Willie is on his way to Disneyland.

So is Debbie.  So is my sister Barbara.

They are taking Monticola and Cedar Post students to the JEA National Convention in Anaheim.

In 1993 or '94, both Willie and Annie went along with the bunch when I was advising the Cedar Post, and Willie was just getting his feet wet as a student journalist. 

For some reason, I can't tell who "goodolwhatzhisname" is behind those sunglasses.  

I can tell that Keith has been teaching in Bend, Oregon, for a number of years as a choir instructor.   He discovered his love of music at SHS and pursued it.  During that time, he also took journalism.  

Keith is happily married and the father of two children.

Meanwhile Luke, who served on the Monticola staff at the time,  has also served his country off and on during several wars since graduating from SHS with Willie in 1995.

He married a classmate, Kami Blood, and he has done a lot of substitute teaching in Sandpoint whenever he's not going off to war.  

Luke and Willie served as ASB officers their senior year, along with their friend, Alana.

It's kinda fun to look back almost 20 years and to think about where these kids have gone on their lifetime journeys, and for Willie, the present Cedar Post adviser, it's back to Disneyland.

Barbara told me last night they have a busy day today:  leaving Spokane at 6 this morning, getting from the airport to the convention center, signing in, going to meetings and then enjoying the "twilight ticket" in Disneyland, which gives them from 4-midnight in the park.  

I also heard via Debbie that Willie anticipated no sleep for the next four days as he watches over his students and makes sure they behave.

They keep the kids pretty busy at these conventions:  attending seminars, competing in contests and just plain connecting with kids from other schools around the country to compare notes on high school publications. 

I wish Willie, Barbara and all the students the best of luck in both the fun and the competition.

I also think:  Ah, to be retired and to reflect on those days, one of which included my sleeping---oops, lying (hard to sleep on hard floors)  right in front of a motel door when I chaperoned some  cheerleaders to a state wrestling meet back in the early '70s.  

I don't think they managed to get out of the room!

Now, Willie gets to enjoy the feeling of being the one in charge of everyone's teen "angels." 

~~~~

Today is a banner day for Bill and me.  I take the signed tax report back to our accountant Bev, and she sends it off.

We're feeling fortunate to get a refund but much more fortunate to have it out of our hands for another year.  

It always seems like when the taxes are on their way, we can move forward through the year for a while without feeling saddled down by something scary that needs to be done.  

And, taxes can be scary.

~~~~

Meanwhile, blogger technical problems can be %@&**@$?.

That's a problem this morning.  So, if pictures described are not there.  I'm working with the problem.  If not, enjoy.

Have a great Thursday.

~~~~

On the positive side of things, Willie just tweeted me from Oakland; they made it there just fine.