As The Butter Churns

December 1st Dog Day Afternoon

   

(centenarian Helen surrounded by Vivian, Luther and Henry)

    After school today Henry and I rushed over to the post office so he could finally mail the “Dear Sasha and Malia” Obama letter. I spent over a week or so trying to find an address for their father. It was like trying to send a letter to the Easter Bunny. I sent emails. Made phone calls and left messages before finding where to send it. Sure Santa’s address is easy The North Pole. So is the President’s – The White House. But Mr. Obama isn’t the President – yet. He’s the President Elect and the President Elect does not receive mail at the White House. Mr. Obama is also not a Senator. He resigned his Senate seat, so you don’t send it to his Senate Office. Mr. Obama is also not running for office. He won the election so you don’t send it to the now defunct campaign office. So where do you send it? Well, you won’t be able to find the address anywhere on any of the websites. Oh they’ll tell you specifics about what to send including that they return anything not sent in a #10 envelope. But strangely, they don’t include an address. You have to be a bit more resourceful and call regarding employment. Then you can actually speak to a human being who will in fact give you the address. It seems, you send it to the Transition Team Office. Wouldn’t that be just perfect, Luther gets a job and I’m still unemployed.

    With relief I licked the envelope for Henry who can’t believe anyone can lick an envelope and like it. A big check off my to-do list.

    Afterward we dashed over to Summit Assisted Living for our monthly visit. The residents were gathered in the lobby near the Christmas tree listening to Christmas Carols when we arrived.

    The visit began as always with one of the residents asking “How many dogs do you have?”

    “Six at home.” Henry answers as the dogs walk around greeting the people finding a spot to sit down and be loved. Vivian is a hit with those in wheel chairs who prefer not to have Bruno sit on their laps and can’t reach Luther without risk of falling out of their seats. Luther on the other hand goes between performer, explorer and foot warmer. The new Social Director walked in smiling with Helen who’d just had her 100th birthday over the Thanksgiving Holiday. Helen was smiling as she pulled up.

    “Helen is quite a dog person,” the Social Director explained.
(Helen and Vivian)

    “I was so worried I’d missed the dogs today. You see I had a visitor and I thought she’d never leave and I’d miss the dogs.” Helen said as she reached out to pet Vivian. “Oh what a beauty. You know, I’m so happy to see the dogs. I always had dogs. My mother made us have little dogs like Pomeranians, but I like all dogs. I live here, but the hardest part is not having a dog. A house isn’t a home with out dogs. They bring true love. What’s his name?” She said looking at Bruno.

    “Bruno” I said handing him to her.

    “What?” Helen asked.

    “Bruno!” I said louder.

    “What? Benny?” She asked. While the Social Director was making megaphone gestures in the background encouraging me to speak even louder.

    “No. Bruno!!!”

    “Spell it.” She commanded.

    “B-R-U-N-O!” I shouted.

    “Oh. Bruno. I knew a Bruno years ago. I’ll never forget him….” She drifted back to some warm memory.
(Vivian and one of the residents)

    Just about this time, Henry who is not so slowly becoming my father, decided to bring out cornet in and play a tune or two. So he began his performance by just trying to hit various notes sp Luther would howl. Once that was accomplished, he went on to play a rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
(Henry blowing his horn - Jingle Bells)

    “I hope I didn’t hurt anyone’s ears. I know I sound like a wounded moose. My teacher thinks maybe I should give up the cornet and try the tuba instead.” Henry apologized. Over my father’s dead body I thought to myself silently.

    “You’re just a little low Sweetie. Your fingering was quite good.” The Social Director said kindly.

    “Would you like to have Bruno sit on your lap?” Henry turned to one of the women who come every time.

    “Well I don’t know. I don’t think I want him right on my legs.” Wanda said

    “I can put a little blanket down if you’d like” Henry suggested.

    “Well, that would be nice.” Wanda decided.

    So Henry reached over and began to lay Luther’s winter coat over Wanda’s legs when suddenly her wheel chair spun out of control doing a quick circle and veering directly into the Christmas tree where she crashed knocking out the lights and toppling it to the floor. We all sat in disbelief. It would have been funny, but knowing her general age and how fragile they all are it was harrowing. Luckily, she was fine. She was smiling and laughing with in seconds ready for Bruno to finally sit in her lap. (Henry, Bruno, Luther's jacket, Wanda and the tree being repaired in the back)

(Bruno ready to relax in Wanda's lap)

    I’m a completely awful person, I sat there stunned resisting the thought of taking a picture and hearing “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” playing in my head.

    “Did I do that?!” Henry panicked.

    “No. Honey, I think I did it.” Wanda took the responsibility.

    “Are you sure? I think the blanket; I mean Luther’s jacket might have caused it when I put it on your lap. I put it over the controls. I’m so sorry if I did that.”
(Wanda and Bruno - finally enjoy each other)

    “How many dogs do you have?” Wanda asked again.

    “Six at our house.” Henry answered again.

    As we were leaving, the Social Director came up to me and said, “You should have gotten a shot of the wheel chair crashing into the tree! Now that would have been a shot.” Perhaps, I won’t be damned to hell after all.

November 26th Off And On

(trees ready for winter)

    Henry and I packed up the car, grabbed a couple of ham sandwiches, filled a thermos of coffee and set the navi “Loretta” for Leavenworth, Washington. Loretta said it was 3 hours and 2 minutes away. Winding down Mosquito Lake Road in the pitch-black, the passenger reading light quickly flashed on and off.
“It’s Grandma saying, ‘Hi!’ Hi, Grandma Christina! It’s me, Henry! Happy Thanksgiving!” Henry said excitedly. Henry relates blinking lights to my mother who passed away.

    My mother’s mother died when she was four, and left my mother feeling cheated out of a mother-daughter relationship. Most of my life I can remember my mother wishing, wanting her mother to contact her in some way. Now, many people think ghosts and spirits are a lot of hooey, but how does anyone truly know? Anyway, when my mother knew she was going to die, she promised us many times that if she could contact us, she would. During her last minutes I made sure to remind her of her promise. Life without my mother was not a life I was looking forward to. Only about two weeks after she died, Lisa became a doctor. We all flew to Colorado and celebrated. It was a wonderful time. My mother’s husband, Herb, said to me, “I can feel your mother.” Frankly, I thought what he was feeling was the tequila. I did not feel my mother. Late in the evening I volunteered to go home and relieve the babysitter. I figured Lisa and Chris would want to stay out and celebrate. I made myself a cup of tea and thought of my mother. She and I had talked so many times about Lisa graduating and becoming a doctor, neither of us suspecting she wouldn’t be with us.

    “Mom,” I said aloud, "I need more than some sort of sappy feeling. I need something dramatic to tell me you’re here. I want a book to fall off the shelf like in the movies. Now, I know you’re new at this, but I need a real sign.”   

    I waited. Nothing. Not a gosh darn thing. I sipped my tea sadly, figuring that was it. I spoke to her again, “Mom? Are you really just gone? Has all my faith in an afterlife been to make myself feel better? I really need you to tell me you’re ok.”

    Just then the floor lamp across the room turned on. Turned on, not off. Turned on! Now that’s a sign, but my logical side said there must be some explanation. I sat there wondering if it was on a timer. I got up and looked around. No timer. Next possibility was a remote switch. Perhaps Lisa had turned it on coming home. I waited. Lisa was not home. There was no timer and no remote switch.  At that point I started talking to my mother. I didn’t want to turn off the light for fear it was like hanging up. When Lisa did finally arrive home hours later, I asked her about the lamp. She said nothing like that had ever happened before. And it never did again. Since then we’ve experienced many strange phenomena involving lights and electricity. And many other people whose close relatives have passed on have reported similar occurrences. One woman said, "After all, life is energy; it makes sense." Sense or not, it has happened too many times to be ignored. Even Tom, the non-believer of non-believers, is convinced.

    I was brought back to the present as we rounded a curve and the passenger light quickly flashed on and off again. This time the dashboard light indicating a door was ajar flashed, too.

    “Mama, I think it’s Grandma trying to warn us. I think something bad’s going to happen I think it’s a bad omen,” Henry said nervously.

    “It’s not a bad omen, Honey, and I don’t think it’s Grandma. I think it’s a regular old short,” I said confidently, wondering silently why my incredibly reliable Honda would suddenly have a problem. I’ve had six Hondas and I’ve never had anything like this happen before.

    We drove on. Henry popped in “Notorious,” an Ingrid Bergman/Cary Grant movie. He watched and I listened to Nazi plots, betrayal, murder, smuggling and treason. We paused occasionally as he asked questions relating to World War II. Happily we rolled along, looking forward to arriving at our Thanksgiving destination, a lodge owned by Lisa’s friends, Diane and John. There would be Diane and John with their two kids, Jordan and Lauren; Chris and Lisa with, of course, Quinn and Phoebe; Moira and Robert with their four kids, Dorian, his brother William and their sisters Leah and Caroline; another man I’ve never met– Joe and his daughter Allison – plus Henry and me.  Henry was thrilled there would be two other boys, an unusual treat. Yet we were enjoying our movie and in no real hurry to arrive.  Suddenly, Henry couldn’t keep his eyes open and turned the movie off. He climbed under a blankie and went out like a light.

    I was alone in the darkness with my thoughts. Peacefully driving until I turned onto Interstate 2. That’s when the trouble began. The fog was so thick I could barely see ten feet in front of me. It was like driving through a white tunnel. I slowed down, taking my time as I’d never been on this road before and had no idea what to expect.  I tapped the brake and, instead of one red light going on over the rear passenger seat, all the lights in the cabin flashed on, momentarily blinding my view of the road. Now, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become a much more cautious driver, especially on winding mountainous roads. With blinding interior lights added to the equation, I became very unhappy, back tensed up. I turned on the radio, gripped the steering wheel and kept driving as I listened to the weather. “You're never more than ten minutes away from the weather on the fours at KOMO 1000”.  I relaxed a little. The fog seemed to dissipate and I kept moving through the darkness. Now I wanted to get there, but the arrival time on the navigational system seemed to stand still. I veered toward Steven’s Pass. The signs said “PASS OPEN”. I was relieved - no chains required. I followed another car, watching the taillights in front of me wind around the bend like two eyes peering at me in the black when all the lights in the cabin flashed on again and this time the door locks shot up, unlocking. Things were escalating. My palms began to sweat. The problems seemed to happen when I hit the brake. Not comforting as your little boy sleeps in the backseat.  I wondered what else would happen. I slowed way down. I flipped on the radio again. Static.

        “Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death,” I said to soothe myself.

    “Mom, if you are here, or Grandpa or anyone, please help me. Please help me do the right things.”

    My spine hurt my back muscles were so tense. I made a conscious effort to relax as I wound up, up, up into the mountains. I’d turn the steering wheel and FLASH! the lights would go on and the door locks would shoot up and the dashboard would blink. I know it was probably crazy but, passing signs like “Narrow Bridge”, “Stay Off Shoulder”, “Variable Speed Restrictions” and “Falling Rocks” in complete darkness, I worried whether my brakes would fail as a result of this electrical problem or maybe my steering would lock up. I let every car pass me. Cars that started through the pass well after me went by me, but I didn’t care. FLASH! the lights would go on and the door locks would shoot up and the dashboard would blink. I couldn’t tell how far the drop off was, but every once in a while I’d see signs that said 4000 feet, 5000 feet. I hoped I would make it to Thanksgiving. I thought back to stories I’d heard over the years. “Most accidents happen within seven miles of a person’s destination.” I kept inching forward, glad Henry was asleep. If he were awake, I know I would have expressed my fears and scared him, too. “Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women and Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus”.

    When we finally pulled up to the lodge and saw the white lights strung everywhere, my body went limp. The front door opened and Lisa’s smiling face peeked out as she waved to me. I was so happy to see her. She walked up as I rolled down my window. “You look upset; traffic?” she asked.

    “No, there’s an electrical problem.”

    “You look wrecked. Let me help you guys in. Wake up, Henry, the kids are all playing upstairs.” We walked in. The place looked like something out of “Architectural Digest” - and I can say that because I once stayed at my friend Jennifer’s “cabin” in Wisconsin, and it was featured in “Architectural Digest”. I was escorted to my suite, given a tour

(bar in game room)

(upstairs, leading to bedrooms)

(bunkbeds!)

(one of the suites) (entrance to the kitchen from the front door)

and ushered to the kitchen where Diane and Moira were bustling about, laughing. Diane prepared my hot chocolate and Lisa got out a bottle of Schnapps. (great room toward kitchen)
    (two-story fireplace)
    We all sank into a big comfy sofa in front of a two-story stone fireplace. I began to relax as I sipped my hot chocolate next to my sister in this beautiful place. I’d made it and I was thankful.

November 22nd Out on a Limb

(The bathroom project drones on - note new coveralls)

(I'm quite the little charmer with a very tolerant Pea)
(Denise behaving better - Tom still tolerant)

    Saturday was a blur. Projects being done everywhere you looked, which is tough because we have a no purchase policy. Meaning we can only do projects for which we have all the supplies on hand. Tom was mudding drywall and working around the house trying to mend things I can’t or haven’t. Henry jumped as chief errand boy. Poor kid made three trips to the chicken coop trying to fetch the correct screwdriver before Tom just did it himself.
  (Henry in the headlights)

    At the close of the day, we were all ready for a little adventure. So, heavily armed with blankets and flashlights, we hopped into Alexis’s jeep and went out to the beaver pond to see what we could see. Which, when Alexis turned off his headlights, was absolutely nothing. Total darkness.

    It was so dark that we knew we wouldn't see Wally. We whispered to each other to roll down the windows because we figured gnawing wood had to make a significant sound. We rolled down the windows and waited. Shushing each other. Well, truth be told, I did most of the shushing and the boys did most of the yapping. I simply couldn’t believe three males had so much to say. Generally, it’s like pulling teeth to get them to talk and now, out in the middle of the wilderness on a stakeout, they wouldn’t shut up.
(Peabrain, Henry-boy and giant-sized Costco flashlight)

    Not being able to sit there and do nothing, the men got out the flashlights. Big and bigger. Alexis put his arm out the window and did a police swoop around the pond. Just as he said, “You know, there could be something right by us and we’d never even know it,” his beam hit a doe. She was walking right toward us, undaunted. We all jumped, as she was about 20 feet away. We sat there thinking she could have been Karen, but she wasn’t. And she was a sign that all was calm.
(doe in the dark)
    Alexis and Tom continued their spotlight sweeps lighting the bushes, trees and edges of the pond but we saw nothing. Disappointed, we decided to head home, where we popped open a bottle of wine for the adult explorers. Having just been introduced to Mel Gibson in “Lethal Weapon”, Henry was now prepared for his continuing movie-vernacular education in “Lethal Weapon 2”.

   As Joe Pesci is just about to deliver his infamous line about not getting the correct order at the drive-thru window, Irish starts barking. I excuse myself and go to investigate. Nancy Drew is on the case. Grabbing my puny flashlight, I stand snuggly next to Irish for reassurance and begin scanning the tall grass, apple trees and hillside for gleaming eyes. I see nothing, but I trust Irish to tell the truth so I keep looking as, in the background, Mel Gibson shoots up half of Los Angeles . And then I see a pair of amber eyes looking back at me from a tall pine tree. Is it an owl? Knocking on the window to signal my crew, I motion for them to come outside. The house falls silent as the movie is put on pause. Alexis, Tom and Henry file out with enough flashlights to light up Dodger Stadium. It doesn’t take long to establish the eyes aren’t an owl’s. I light up two more blinking pairs. My flashlight does not compare to the flood of light Tom shines. The beam lights up the field beyond the cow pasture - a;most a`thousand feet away. He aims it up in the tree and there they are - three little masked bandits. Raccoons. They watch us and we happily watch them.
(neighboring family)

November 21st Wait 'Til Your Father Gets Home

(Fairhaven Middle School - early in the morning - on a band rehearsal day)

    When I got home after taking Henry to school, I got a call. “Hey, what’s for dinner tomorrow?” Tom asked strangely .

    “Whyyyyy?” I responded, hopeful.   

    “I thought you sounded down lately and so I cashed in some Alaska miles to surprise you and Henry.”

    “Seriously?” I asked, knowing he was completely serious.

    This wasn’t my first surprise like that. I thought back to a phone call I got years ago in Minneapolis. It was the anniversary of my assault and I was feeling alone. I was at a photo shoot when the photographer’s assistant said there was a call for me.

    “For me?” She nodded, and handed me the phone.

    “Hello?” I answered, completely bewildered.

    “Hey, what’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” Tom answered in a cheerful voice.

    “Hey. I’m just at a photo shoot,” I answered, figuring he had no idea what day it was.

    “What are you doing later?” Tom asked.

    “Going home. Nothing special," I said, feeling sorry for myself.

    “Well, I thought I’d take you to dinner,” he said with a smile in his voice.

    “WHAT? How is that possible? You’re in Santa Monica and I’m here.”

    “Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m at the airport and will be there in a few hours - if you don’t mind picking me up. I have to be at work tomorrow, so we can go to dinner and I’ll fly back in the morning. With the time change it’ll work out fine.”

    “Do you know what day it is?”

    “Of course..”

    Back to today and this surprise:

    I asked for details.

    “I’ll be there at 8:00PM,” Tom informed me.

    “Drat. I’ll be in Burlington with Henry, finishing gymnastics. Do you mind if Alexis picks you up?” I asked. I hoped it didn’t sound like I didn’t want to pick him up.

    “Sounds great; he’ll probably be on time.”

    “You think you’re funny.” He knows how to shoot the zingers.

    “It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.”

    “I’m so excited. I can’t believe you're coming.”

   
(transformation begins)

    (no more salon for me)

    I didn't say a word to Henry, but I had less than a day to transform myself back into a girl. I colored my hair and bought lipstick and a bottle of "Out the Door" topcoat at the beauty supply - just in case I had time for a pedi. Knowing I needed a new outfit, I went to "Whistle Work" with Lisa and picked up a brand new pair of navy coveralls. She said they looked like they could be my Sunday dress coveralls. When we were just about ready to walk out the door for Burlington, Henry looked me over carefully.

    “Mama, you look awfully nice to go to gymnastics.”

    “I just thought it would be a nice change from my farm-wife look.”

    “Oh.”

    Alexis offered to feed the animals, and I took him up on it as it was raining and I didn’t want to ruin my hair graining the cows.

    Bursting with excitement while driving to gymnastics, I had to stop myself from dropping hints.I was  barely able to contain myself and almost blurted it out a couple of times. But I knew it would completely distract Henry from his workout and, with competition only weeks away at this point, I tried to be maternally selfless. I ran some errands and tried to keep myself busy.

    Henry watched “Baby Boom” with Diane Keaton in the car on the way home. I’d forgotten how funny the movie was and how much I’d relate to it at this point. Diane Keaton’s character loses her big job because her long-lost cousin leaves her a baby and abrupt motherhood interferes with her “Tiger Lady” reputation. So she purchases a place out in the country. The workman at her 62-acre Vermont home  keeps telling “J.C.” that "it will be just another $7,000 dollars." Her well goes dry, her roof leaks and she goes from loving to loathing the place as her bank account dwindles, all of which helped keep my mind off the surprise and my mouth shut.

    I called Tom from the road and found out his plane was a little delayed, so I knew we’d beat them home.

    When we arrived, I tried to tidy up a bit and get the dogs fed. When I heard the dogs barking, I called Henry downstairs. I imagined the wonderful moment when Tom would walk in and Henry would see his daddy. What I got instead was:

    “God damn it! IRISH! DOWN! God damn it! What the. . .,”  erupted from the pitch-black game room. Tom continued his tirade in complete frustration, ignored by an anxious, overgrown puppy who kept leaping in the air, trying to lick the long-lost daddy and managing to knock off his glasses.

    Tom was home.

    “Daddy! You sound like Grandpa. Mom, Daddy’s here! Mama?” Henry shouted, and then he turned to me in sudden realization. “Wait a second; you wanted to look nice for gymnastics?  I don’t think so. Mama, you bought that new cranberry lipstick for this guy?”
(guilty as charged)

November 17th So Peaceful Here

(Doe a deer - a female deer)

    I got a note the other day from an old friend that said, “Denise, I heard you and your family are living on a farm, how nice– that must be so calm.” I chuckled when I read her words. Calm? I don’t think anyone who’s spent time on a farm thinks of it as calm. Peaceful? Yes. Calm? Not so much.

    I thought of her words again as I spoke to the game warden, Dave Jones. He told me the cat we saw the other night sounded, from my description, like an adult. Which he felt was a blessing, as that would mean it was smart enough to stay away from people. I told him I was new at guessing the size and weight of a cougar and he'd have to figure in a pretty large margin for error and allow for the darkness and, of course, the adrenaline. He said he completely understood, but felt sure by its manner that it was an adult. We discussed cats in general - their habits, the differences and similarities between lions and cougars generally and in their hunting practices.

    “They’ll just walk their trap line, which could be anywhere from five to fifty miles depending on the deer population.With your 40 acres, the state ten you surround, the empty 40 acres adjacent to yours and the wilderness behind you, you're in the middle of their territory,” Dave informed me
(We have seen a tremendous increase in the deer population coming through the property - perhaps it's Irish being confined)

    “Last year I never saw any cougar prints, but we did have a lot of coyotes. I haven’t seen the coyotes since last winter. Would they leave if a top predator moved into the area?”

    “Absolutely. The absence of coyotes suggests the cougar. And, you know, I wouldn’t say you’re infested with cats in your area but, let’s face it, you back up to wilderness.
(plenty of habitat)

    I'd  say you have a very healthy cougar population. We did have a problem with one going into a carport on Mosquito Lake Road the other day and had to shoot it. It was sick though – feline leukemia.”

    “I’m nervous just walking out to my car at night now. I don’t want to lose any of my animals. Should I do anything in addition to my current precautions?”

    “No, you’re getting them in at dusk,” Dave said. “The bells are good. You have the air horns. You could get pepper spray.”

    “By the time pepper spray would be useful, I’d have already had a heart attack.”

    “I can understand that.”

    “What about my geese? I hate to keep them penned in all day.”

    “To be honest, cougar don’t really eat geese. Coyotes do, maybe an owl, but not cougar. It’s not worth it. They don’t know your geese don’t fly too much. They’d rather take down two deer a week.”

    “So I should be grateful to Karen – she’s protecting the geese.”

    “Karen? That’s what my son named her.”

    “It seems you guys are fine up there if you’re naming them. Let me know when you see her again.”

    “It’s pretty breathtaking to see. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather see her from the inside of my van, but it’s amazing.”

    “I get that. I love ‘em, too.”

    Coincidentally, I got a call a few minutes later from my neighbor, Kristie. She was just checking to see how we were doing, when Tom was coming up and life in general. And, oh yeah, she wanted to let me know her neighbors saw a brown bear with her three cubs - and, as if that wasn’t enough, Stan saw some black bears in their yard.

    “Wow! Brown bear? Grizzly? Really? I had heard there was a release program, but I never thought they'd come down out of the Cascades.”

    “Darlin’, you’re in the Cascades. And it’s the cool summer we had. It was nice down here, but the berries didn’t ripen in the upper elevations and so they came down here for food. They're headin’ back up now as it gets colder.”

    Bear. I’d love to see a bear, but I’d hate to meet a Grizzly. I’m not sure which is more terrifying - the cougar or the Grizzly.

    On the way home from school today, Henry and I stopped by the North Fork of the Nooksack River. We looked around and were enjoying the view when we saw them. They’re back. The eagles have landed. It was amazing looking at them look at us. They truly are majestic. We joked about seeing these thieves stealing salmon from a seagull next week. They’re such terrible hunters. A top predator I’m not frightened of, but we’d better keep a close eye on Bruno. (Hmm. let's see, it's a dove, it's a turkey, it's a scavanger -)

   We chatted on the way home about our upcoming stakeout and the dead bear we saw on the side of the highway, which reinforced Kristie’s sightings. Both Henry and I wished we could get some sort of night vision camera or monocular. We’d at least need another flashlight. (Wally's current project)

    It had gotten dark quickly and, once we pulled in, I told Henry to take in the groceries and practice his scales while I fed the animals. As I headed for the barn, my radar went up. I felt as though I were being watched. I looked and was sure I saw an animal. I stood there looking at it. And it stood there looking back. I knew for sure it wasn't big enough to be a brown bear, but could it be a bear? Was it a cougar? Or just a deer? I thought, "It's probably just a deer," but I wondered why it wasn't running away. I realized I had my camera and flashed a shot, thinking either it would be frightened or I’d get a better look at it.
(looks like a deer now - from the comfort of my kitchen)
Neither occurred. So I stood there as darkness fell, not knowing which way to turn – to the barn or back toward the house? Just then, Irish barked fiercely. I turned my head in his direction and then back toward my companion. Whatever it was – was gone. For now.

    I walked calmly to the barn.

November 16th What's Happening

(Luther enjoying the sunshine)

    The phone rang Saturday morning.

    “Hello?”

    “Denise? This is Mike.”

    “Yes. I know. We’ve met,” I say dryly. Laughing.

    “What's happening? Has Alexis built a fence around the house yet?”

    “Well, since you asked, I’m in the sunroom and I can see him unloading wood in the pasture.”

    “You are kidding me.”

    “Nope. He’s making me feel lazy.”

    “And that’s saying something. I know.”

    Well, I’ve got to go. I can’t watch someone else unload wood in my pasture.”

    “I understand. Talk to you later.”
 
(Alexis hauls wood from one side of the pasture to the other)
(Alexis quickly learns how to build a jack fence)
) (Alexis, Andy and Luther)
    Sunday evening the phone rang again.

    “Hello?”

    “Denise? This is Mike.”

    “Well, at least you don’t say, ‘This is Mike Senzer’ anymore,” I say dryly.

    “What's happening? Tell me, what feat has Alexis accomplished? Perhaps he’s renovated the barn.”

    “Well, he built a portion of the fence, made apple cider, hosed down the cider press, cleaned the porch, hung an outside light, helped Wayne and I clean the barn. Now he and Henry are eating Toblerone™ and watching some action movie at his apartment.”
(Alexis learns to muck stalls from Wayne - now an old pro)
(notice my coffee cup)

(Henry runs the tractor)
(Henry -  hauling the 25lb bag of apples he picked - is transformed into the Apple Cider Santa)
(Alexis installing a temporary light to keep away very big kitty cats)

    “You know, back when I first cleaned the barn we didn't have the tractor, and Pancho and Lefty lived there."  

    "Don't forget the snowstorms and you having to forge your own tools," I said.

    "It's a good thing I like him or he'd be really annoying," Mike grumbled.

November 13th Turn, Turn, Turn

(Goat lips)

    Just about the time the sun came up, I heard Mike’s car roll over the rocks as he drove into the driveway. I handed him his coffee as he walked in the door and told him to keep his jacket on as he was just in time to help me feed the animals.

(Riley wating for breakfast)
He was glad to greet his friends, the Oberhaslis. I was amused to see Mike extend his big paws full of alfalfa pellets as the goats voraciously nibbled with their tickly goat lips. I suspect he favors Rachel as she seemed to get just a little more than the rest. Mike helped me toss in the hay as we opened up the doors and released the geese to mow the lawn. I was a little embarrassed at the state of the barn as I called to mind the barns at the fairgrounds. Hordes of children kept the place spotless; child labor in moderation is a very good thing.
(Bruno says "Good Morning")

I’m well-intentioned, but with trying to build a fence, attempting to find work, keeping the house from being a complete disaster and occasionally feeding Henry – regular barn maintenance seems to get left by the wayside. I keep meaning to clean more than the stalls, but it isn’t my highest priority. And, after all, it is a barn. We filled the water buckets, gave Miracle her morning hugs and returned to the house.

(Miracle saying howdy-do)

Mike and I had set aside the day to work on some of my stuff for Fort Flashback. I’ve learned over time that the business plan is a document that is constantly evolving and, thus, is ever in need of attention. Certainly, there are those who say at this point I should just give up trying to open an American History Camp for kids, especially in this economic climate. Honestly, this is when I think we need it the most. It would be an inexpensive escape for many people but, of course, I’m biased. Anyway, with coffee cups in hand we settled into our regular roles. When we work, we usually argue. Vehemently. We truly couldn’t be more different in many ways but, much like Irish and Bruno, we’ve figured out a way to be friends in spite of our differences, and I appreciate Mike’s willingness to drive two hours to come up here to argue with me. Then again, he went to law school and that sort of thing comes with the territory.

    We worked: I wrote and Mike ranted, edited and noodled my prose as we laughed at each other’s predictability. We were cloistered in the house all day until it was time to pick up Henry from school and begin my shuttle service triangle - home to school to gymnastics and back home again, home again jiggity jig. On a good day, I drive 120 miles and on a bad day – like today, I drive 150. 

    Knowing I wouldn’t be home until quite late in the evening and having intimate knowledge of cougars lurking nearby, we went out to the barn to feed and put the geese, goats, lambs and Miracle away. I figured Abe, Andy and Anna could go without grain for a day, as it’s unseasonably balmy. The Pineapple Express is blowing through here, heating things up.

    As Mike and I walked out to the barn I noticed something was different. The wheelbarrow wasn’t where I'd left it. Who’d been here? Was there an intruder? I walked cautiously into the barn filled with dread. Shock at what I saw washed over me like a wave. It took me a while to process what I was seeing. I glanced around. Every rake was hung up. The buckets were turned upside down and neatly lined up on a shelf.
  (neat and tidy- rats and mice can't get stuck inside) (All hung up)
(everything it its place)
The fly sprays and medicines were sorted and put away. The excess hay was swept up off the floor. The empty grain bags were thrown away, The hose was rerouted and strapped to the ceiling so it could fill the goats' water bucket without any problems. The whole barn was organized and immaculate. It felt like Barbara Eden had been there. Was this some new game show? No one was around, but I knew it was Alexis. My eyes filled with tears at the genuine kindness. He’d seen something and just handled it. (Ready to be used)

    “I can’t believe it. This is amazing.” I stood there in disbelief. “It’s like the maid came when you weren’t expecting it.” 

    “What?” Mike said, standing next to me.

    “The barn? It’s completely cleaned. Everything is put away, organized and swept up. You don’t see that?” I asked incredulously.

    “Oh, yeah. Now that you mention it, it does look a bit different than this morning,” Mike said, looking around.

    “You’re kidding, right?” But I knew he wasn’t. He didn’t notice until I said something. I could bleach my hair platinum and he just might notice. Just then Alexis walked up. I didn’t know what to say. I stumbled for something profound to express my gratitude, but all I could manage was a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
(Alexis being transformed into a farmhand)

    He smiled and said, “You looked like you could use a little help. I thought I’d pitch in. If you want, I could mend some of the fences. Or you could make a list.”   

    A list? I must be dreaming. Tears filled my eyes at this unexpected kindness.

    As I drove to get Henry and take him to gymnastics Mike and Alexis were still talking in the driveway.  I thought of my mother as I peered in my rear view mirror at them. She used to say, "As you get in your forties life gets easier. Younger people get so depressed because they’re not old enough to realize things never stay the same for long. Life is always going to change in some unexpected way.”

   I guess the Kaleidoscope just turned again.

November 9th Nothing Beats A Full House

(Little Sam Horner, 5, and Irish)

    Laughter and shrieking filled the house as Team Donaldson arrived with old neighbors: Liza (6th grade), Audrey (3rd grade) and Sam Horner (kindergarten). Over the years our families have spent a lot of time together for birthday parties, sleepovers, Thanksgivings, Christmases and many Easter egg hunts. Of course, there were hugs and kisses all around. Audrey got a little more than she bargained for when Vivian Irene Rottweiler planted a big wet one right on her cheek. A moment later Irish rushed past Sam, knocking him flat on the wood floor as he went by. Sam went down like one of those plastic clowns you punch, which hits the ground and immediately bounces back up.

    “Are you ok?” Lisa asked.

    “Yeah,” Sam replied, non-plussed, as he got up and resumed looking at the jukebox.

    Despite the rain, it wasn’t long before children were darting everywhere. To the barn to meet the goats! To the side yard to see the geese! To the pasture to feed the cows! Then to the pond on the tractor! Nervous about predators, I wanted them to take an air horn with them to make noise, but I laughed as they reached the pond and I could still hear every word they yelled to each other. They were safe.
(Quinn, Sam, Phoebe and Liza in the bucket. Henry is driving and Audrey is screaming)

    While they were gone, we went about our plan to set up the Cider Press. We'd gotten it for Fort Flashback. It was a common colonial item and we thought kids would enjoy seeing how cider was made. Cider is produced by crushing apples. It is 90% apple - if it contains more water than that it is called apple juice.

    So Lisa, Alexis, Chris and I picked apples and began wiping down the Cider Press. Lisa and Alexis chopped the apples, making sure they were worm-free. (Lisa and Alexis -  chopping machines)

    When all the kids returned, they shoved handfuls of apple chunks into the grinder until the bucket was full. Audrey was in charge of making sure the apples were firmly packed down. After all, we wanted as much cider as possible. Wayne wandered in from watching football and sat down. Contentedly, I looked around. It was if everything was in slow motion, girls giggling, men talking, boys shoving, dogs barking, football blaring. Lisa was chopping, and it was perfect. It’s moments like these that are magical. Ordinary moments.

     It was then that my father entered the room. No, he isn’t back from Paris, but he was channeling across the continents through his grandson. It seems Sam asked Henry whose cool horn was by the music stand - and chaos ensued. Henry walked into the room and began practicing a barely recognizable version of “Jingle Bells” he’s quite proud of. I thought Lisa was going to have a breakdown.
(Wayne & Chris look on as Henry carries on a family tradition and Sam cuts up)

    “Make him stop. He’s just like his grandfather, playing that thing in the middle of enough noise. I just can’t take the playing.”
(Quinn watching Henry add to the chaos. Phoebe working hard)

   “And he’s not as good as his grandfather,” Wayne interjected.

   “That’s not it,” Lisa said. “It’s not how he’s playing; it’s that he’s playing.”

   “Don’t discourage him from playing. Ever,” Chris shushed her. 

   "Ever?"

   "Ever," Chris repeated.

" (Liza, Phoebe and Audrey cider pressing)
  (Henry crushes some apples and Sam watches, with Chris's assistance, as Liza fills the grinder)
(Sam gives it a try)
(Liza working for the cider) (Cider at last!)

   When the pressing began, everyone took turns but, as the press squeezed downward, the turning got increasingly difficult until only The Amazing Chris Donaldson remained.

   When everyone had their fill of freshly pressed cider, the games continued. Jedi Knights dueled in the yard and climbed ropes to show their strength
. (Jedi Knights - Henry and Sam)

   “Sam, if you can climb this rope then you can be a Jedi Knight.”

   “It’s too hard,” Sam complained.
(Sam struggles)

    “If it were easy, everyone would be a Jedi,” Henry explained reasonably. Sam looked around and found a step stool. Stood on it. Jumped up. And grabbed the rope. Gleeful at having bested the master.
(Sam and his step stool)
   “That’s cheating,” Henry accused.

   “That’s right,” Sam said.

   Meanwhile, back in the kitchen Quinn struggled to interpret the Rice Crispy Treat recipe as the other girls hounded her to hurry up. After spaghetti and meatballs the girls settled in for the movie “Harry and the Hendersons” or, as it is commonly known in our home, “Life with Irish”. (Audrey, Phoebe, Liza, Quinn and Irish, who thinks he's a lap dog)
(Liza makes peace with the fact that Irish isn't going anywhere)
   Kindred spirits Henry and Sam excused themselves to play computer games upstairs.  (Sam and Bruno go upstairs)
(Two of a kind, computer boys Sam and Henry)

   Much too soon our time ended and everyone packed up their wet tennis shoes and pond-soaked socks.
(Brotherly love)

   “Henry, you’re lucky,” Sam said as he hugged Henry good-bye.

   “Why?” Henry asked.

   “Because you get to live here,” Sam said plainly.

   “Well, you can come visit any time Germaine and Kevin let you. You can come this summer or sometimes you could fly up with my dad.”

   “Really!?”

   “Really. Right, Mom?” Henry asked, wanting backup.

    “Anytime, Samma.”
    (Henry lifting a giggling Sam)

   After they left, Henry turned to me and said, "Mama, that Sam's a handful. I don't know if Daddy can handle him. Well, he is MY Daddy. I guess he's used to it, huh?"

   "Does Henry the Handful sound familiar in any way?"

November 8th Shadow Of A Doubt

(The Red Baron - Irish wearing protective eyewear)

    I woke up to a wet nose being shoved into my eye socket. Sleepily, I reached my hand out to snuggle the baby giant. This would be Irish’s one and only attempt to wake me before he peed a puddle the size of one of the Great Lakes - infamously known in our house as ”Lake Irie”. Despite the dark morning, this is motivation, as I go through Costco packs of paper towels like other people use milk. I opened one eye and peered at the clock - 5:30AM. Reluctantly, I threw back the covers, slipped my feet into my fuzzy slippers, threw on Pea’s tattered, but warm red robe and shuffled down the stairs. Opened the front door and put Irish on the porch before going back to bed for another hour of sleep.

    Still dark at 7:00AM in the Pacific Northwest. I finally got out of bed and forced myself to go outside and feed the barn animals before taking the time to brew my coffee. I felt selfless, virtuous and proud of myself. As I was about to open the barn door I saw a humongous print.

(paw print by barn)

    I wondered what animal had been so close to the barn. I opened the barn doors and released the geese. Honking and flapping, they made their way outside, only to turn around - as they often do - wondering what’s taking me so long. They all came back inside to watch me let the goats, sheep and Miracle out of their pens, but they lost interest as I went about separating flakes and feeding the four-footed animals.

    I was dutifully filling up the goats' water when I heard the geese begin shrieking. Dropping the hose, I ran across the rocky driveway, struggling to keep my slippers on by curling my toes and holding the red robe up so I wouldn’t trip as I awkwardly tromped.

    Irish was off the porch and chasing the geese. I began calling for help. Screaming over and over, “Henry! Help! Irish! NO! Henry! Help! Irish! NO!” Poor Mabel had been singled out and was flapping and running for her life. I caught up to them as Irish had his mouth around her neck. I don’t think he meant to harm her. I threw my robe over Mabel. It worked, and Irish bounded off in another direction. He cornered the rest of the gaggle as I continued screaming for help, my throat hoarse. I couldn’t keep him away from every goose. He’s unbelievably agile and incredibly fast. I felt very alone and desperate as I screamed for help. Bruno momentarily distracted Irish, so I seized the opportunity and ran up to the door pounding and screaming. No one came. I ran back toward the geese, toes curled, to usher the gaggle to safety in the dog run. Once they were inside, Irish ran around happy as you please with the rat-bat dog, Bruno. Bruno probably couldn’t outrun Irish on a straightaway, but then again, he’s not dumb enough to try. Rather, he darts around like a bullet, making quick turns Irish can’t keep up with. Truly a big baby, Irish just wanted someone to chase and to chase him. Mabel was not as forgiving. 

    About this time, Henry came out and I yelled hoarsely for him to turn off the hose in the barn. I figured it was flooding all over the place. I realized that when I had let Irish out this morning the gate must not have been closed. Wayne had come in late and probably left it open, so all this time Irish had been wandering around enjoying his freedom. It was his footprint by the barn. Obviously, my brush with the cougars had left me paranoid. We did not have large predators coming this close to the house. I went inside and brewed my coffee. I had really earned this pot.

    After that, the day went on quite nicely. I haven’t mentioned it but, sadly, Kristie moved out of my dad’s apartment above the shop and in with her friend, Jena on November 1st. I was very sorry to see her go. We didn’t do all that much together, but the occasional glass of wine and knowing there was another woman around was comforting. However, today my new tenant, Alexis, moved in. He’s a great guy who moved here from just south of San Francisco.

(Alexis bearing gifts of coffee, cookies, pinot grigio and dog biscuits from Trader Joes™)

    Alexis is the kind of guy who jumps right in. His first real day here and he offered to help Henry in the barn while I finally took down the now out-of-place and goose-ravaged graveyard. The moment Alexis produced an impressive Butterfly knife Henry was an immediate Alexis fan. After what seemed to Henry a socially acceptable amount of time, he asked Alexis where he got his unusual name. “After all, it is kinda odd for a boy.” The answer seems to be his mother was French and his father was Greek so they chose a name that would suit both cultures. There’s another version according to his cousin in North Carolina that has to do with a czar, but we’ll leave that for another time.

    It was past time for me to grain the cows, which made me a little nervous. Gallantly, Alexis offered to join me. We walked down and I showed him where I’d been standing when I’d seen the cougar and where the cougar had been. Not wanting to freak him out, I said that many people had lived on Mosquito Lake Road for twenty years and had never seen a cougar. “In fact, Wayne says I’ll probably never see another one, which is OK by me."

    The evening brought Wayne, Henry, Alexis and me together for a celebration of his first real night on the farm. Naturally, our fare included chili, chocolate-butterscotch cookies and “Journey to The Center of the Earth”. Poor Alexis had every single animal on his lap for a time. A good sport, he hugged, snuggled, petted and accepted kisses from Bruno, Abbey, Luther, Irish, Emmet, Vivian and love-starved Deli – who inexplicably lights up when Alexis walks in the room.

    After the movie, Wayne sleepily climbed the stairs to his attic world while I walked Alexis out to the front porch. We stood there in the bright moonlight talking about the beauty of the place, the pros and cons of living here and whatever else entered our minds. As I was talking to Alexis I noticed a movement behind him in the shadows. Ever paranoid, I doubted myself. Wondering if my eyes or the shadows were playing tricks on me, I asked Alexis to turn and tell me if he saw it too. He looked and, after a moment, said slowly, “Yes, I do. There’s something light-colored there. I can see it moving. I wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

    “It’s a cougar, isn’t it?”

(taken the next day from the porch - the cougar was on the other side of the driveway between the pine tree on the left and the post on the right)

    “Yes, it is. It’s definitely a cougar. Look at how it moves,” he answered almost inaudibly. As we watched a giant version of Emmett slink casually down the path between the apple trees and along the pasture fence line, I ran inside to get a flashlight. The big one Tom bought me didn’t work. Again. So I grabbed a little one and ran outside, yelling to Henry we had a cougar in the front yard. We held up the flashlight and, sure enough, two green eyes blinked back at us. The cougar had been about eighty feet away from the house.

     “Hey, do you want to hop in my jeep and go see if we can get a closer look?” Cool. A new playmate.

    “Is it a hard top?” I queried hesitantly. Small chuckle.

     “Good question. Yes, it is a hardtop.”

    “Heck Yeah. Let’s go. I’ll grab my camera.” I ran inside and asked Henry if he wanted to go.

    “Uh. NO! I do not. Mom, I don’t think you should go out looking for cougars either. Moms don’t do that when they have children.”

    “This one does. I want to see one, just not standing next to me.”

    As we hoisted ourselves into the jeep, I glanced up to Wayne’s room because I knew he’d want to go too, but it was dark and I didn’t want to wake him to go on what would probably be a wild goose chase (my second today).

    Scanning the pasture, trees and surrounding brush for eyes, we saw raccoon eyes, and a lone doe, but no cat so we returned home from our safari planning our next adventure. We thought we’d do a beaver pond stakeout. We’d need blankets and hot beverages, flashlights.

November 6th As Luck Would Have It

  (The house from a cougar's perspective) 

    This morning started out very dramatically. Henry yelled that Emmet had killed one mouse and had another mouse in his mouth. “It’s not dead!” Great. I couldn’t think about that now, we had to get to school. With a firm grip on his green collar, I walked Irish past the dining room table where Emmet was torturing his most recent victim. Lord, have I changed.

    “Mama, the mouse got away when you took Irish to the bathroom. Now he’s behind the dining room chair in the corner. Emmet doesn’t know where he is.” I glanced over, figuring the poor thing was terminally injured, but no. There he sat looking up at me as cute as anything. Whiskers twitching. He wasn’t going to last long, but late or not, I couldn’t leave the poor thing to be hunted down. After all, he wasn’t a rat. If he had been a rat, there would have been no reprieve. I’d have walked out the door without looking back.

    A mom on a mission, I didn’t have time for squeamish. I put Emmet in the laundry room and the little rat dog as well as all the other dogs in my room, except for Luther. What’s Luther going to do, but make friends with it? I instructed Henry to go get a bucket. He came back with an old kitty litter bucket. We blocked the little guy with the screen Scarlett had popped off the window. He ran into the bucket. I yelled for Henry to lift the handle and voila! Our makeshift mousetrap worked pretty well.

   “You are one lucky mouse,” I told him. Henry took him outside and he scurried away as we sped off to school, hoping not to be late for the before-school band percussion practice.

    When I got home, I divided my time between looking for jobs and cleaning the house, adroitly avoiding the pile of laundry. The house was so quiet, the only sounds I was aware of were Luther’s snores and my shoes on the wooden floor. The entire menagerie was all snug in bed.
(Bruno yawns as Vivian snuggles)

    I was excited when the phone rang because Wayne had just given me a headset to wear around the house like an operator. I always laughed at my old neighbor Steven DiMarco who wore one. Now, I was thrilled to be wearing one.

    “Hello?”

    “Hi, it’s Tob,” The tone of Toby’s voice sent off alarm bells. It was harried and secretive.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Well, just about everything. Starting with six policemen who were just searching the house.”

    “What? Who are these people? Is it the drunk?” Toby’s been staying with a woman, Fran, who is really very nice. Although she is an enabler. She divorced her drug-addicted abusive husband, but now allows him to live with her because he’s no longer using drugs. He’s just a falling-down sloppy drunk.

    “No. That’s what I thought. I thought Ricky had finally killed himself or someone else. But no, it’s the daughter. She moved in recently with her boyfriend. And, actually she’s really nice and sweet. Always doing thoughtful things like helping Dean or buying flowers. She’s been looking on craigslist and tipping me off when she sees some job I might be right for.”

    “So what was it for? Drugs?” I was fairly sure.

    “Well, yes, and, apparently, fraud. You know how I told you she’s been on craigslist? It turns out she and her boyfriend have been conning people into believing they have a rental. She asks them for a $2,500.00 deposit and they give everyone a different move in date.”

    “Toby! That’s so evil. How can anyone knowingly prey on innocent people looking for a place to live and clean them out? It's never right, but I can understand some crimes.”

    “I know. You can get the ones where the crime is a nameless, faceless corporation and they don't connect a person with it. And she’s so nice, friendly, and cute doing all these nice things, but remember when Fran stayed with me for that year a while back? Well, I don’t know if you remember, but it was because her daughter caused so many financial problems and drained her grandmother’s bank account, causing the grandmother to have to move out of the home she was living in.”

    “She’s just this side of Ted Bundy if you want my opinion. OK. I know she didn't kill anybody, but you know what I mean.” These were real vermin - rats, not mice.

    “Fran tried to do what was best and bailed her daughter out. But she just kept bailing her out and so she never learned consequences. Recently, they moved in here because they got busted for a check cashing scheme.”

    “What does Fran think now?” I asked, while I mopped the game room. I was riveted, like I was watching TruTV.

    “She just sat in a chair asking what she was doing wrong while the police searched the house, seizing evidence. She was going to try and bail her out again, but the bail is set pretty high. She can’t afford it. Ricky was drunk by 10:00AM and he keeps moaning about bailing out his little girl. Miller, I have to tell you I can barely stand it. But I don’t have the money to leave right now. I was asked by the police over and over what my relationship was to them. They think I’m one of them. Dean just watched TV and talked to the police about his show. He hasn’t asked me any other questions yet.”

    “Wow. Well, now what? You don’t really have any choice right now. You have to stay.”

    “I know. I did get work for this weekend in Big Bear, so Dean and I are going to get away and have some time away from here. Ricky is just a nightmare stumbling around. I keep my door locked. He went to a detox place for a couple of days and had the shakes, vomiting - the whole bit - but he just left there and went to a bar. I memorized his license plate so I can call the police.”

    “How does Fran deal with that?”

    “She says the bar is only two blocks away and he drives really, really slowly,” Toby laughed nervously. “As if that helps. You know we’re surrounded by three schools.”

    “She’s obviously never lost anyone to a drunk driver. I have and she is going to be as responsible as he is when he kills someone. You’re living in a snake pit surrounded by felons. Honestly, I don’t know anyone like that. The daughter is horrible, preying on people. And you're living with them. You know, right now, if it weren't for bad luck you'd have no luck at all.”

    “You're telling me. She obviously has no moral compass. It drives me crazy. They worked so hard devising this scheme. If they'd put that energy toward getting a job, they wouldn't have to do this. She’s so charming. Dean adores her.”

    “That’s scary, but I guess con artists have to be charming. It’s a job requirement. I’m worried. You don’t want Dean thinking bad people are nice. That could be very confusing for Dean,” I worried as I swept up mounds of dog hair.

    “I know. He just doesn’t have the ability to understand this. He thinks bad guys are just bad guys. And he can so easily be led down the wrong path. I told him the police were just doing a check in the neighborhood, because they thought there were bad guys around.”

    “Well, that’s good,”  I sighed as I pushed dog hair into the dustpan.

    “On the upside, the daughter and the boyfriend are going down for sure. And will probably be gone for about six months or more. So there are two less people in the house.” More nervous laughter.

    “That is definitely a benefit.”

    “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll let ya know if anything else happens.”
(From the driveway)

    I was drained after that. I couldn’t imagine Toby living there with Dean, getting him ready for school every morning and trying to pretend Ricky was just another nice man. Meanwhile, these scheming con artists were bilking people out of money and Fran tolerated all of it. I couldn’t manage to feel sorry for her. She just let it all happen. In fact, she’s responsible. Without her, they couldn’t commit their crimes. No, I didn’t feel sorry for her. I was reminded of the old saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
(The pond switching from fall to winter)
    Wayne came home and we took a walk to the pond, enjoying the crisp day. We didn’t take any of the dogs with us, just in case we got a glimpse of Wally, the beaver. We didn’t see him, but we inspected his lodge and tunnels.

(Wally's entrance) (Wayne works on Wally's masterpiece)
(A breakthrough)

We tore down his dam because we’re expecting rain. The forecast says four to eight inches tomorrow. Seeing the pond always lifts my spirits. I felt lucky to be here in this special place. All my troubles and Toby’s troubles drifted away. The beauty of the hills relaxed me.
(some of the last leaves of fire) (water droplets)

    On the way back, we looked at deer trails, inspected cougar paths. It was so quiet we could hear the “whoop, whoop, whoop” as a hawk’s wings pushed the air and a field mouse skittered away through some branches. I wondered if that was our lucky mouse being lucky again.

November 4th With A Little Help From My Friends

(Me in 1981 with my pledge sister, Tanya Lerud, during sorority rush - check out my ensemble, this was quite a little plaid outfit with matching knickers!)

    I know what most people think of sororities. The movies are filled with images of immaculately groomed blondes in expensive clothes. They’re shallow, wealthy, self-absorbed and consumed by their pursuit of men, money and a good time. I'm sure this is true in many places or it wouldn't be so common an image. This was not my experience.
(My pledge ribbon)
    I was a reluctant pledge in 1981. Of all people, my mother, the ultimate non-joiner of anything organized, encouraged me to go through sorority rush because her friend Joan’s daughter, Amy, was in a sorority and seemed to love it. My memories of Amy were of her on Balboa Island drinking Sloe Gin and laughing all the time. She was funny and four years older than me.
(Amy Schloss and Beth Jansen)

My mother’s rationale was that, with me attending a commuter, plain wrap school like California State University Northridge (CSUN) and being