As The Butter Churns

November 23rd My Deer Friend Francine

(the early bird)

    Today was Thanksgiving – well, our Thanksgiving since Tom won’t be with us on Thursday. I roasted a small 12lb turkey, did an apple, cornbread, mushroom, onion and sage stuffing, whipped up some garlic potatoes and steamed some not so traditional but always yummy edamame from Trader Joes™ for good luck.

  (Alexis spearheads the concrete pad project for the soon-to-be-necessary generator)

 (Tom and Henry assist)

(Tom starts the long-awaited painting)

     In the late afternoon, I tented the turkey with aluminum foil and went out to grain the cows as we were expecting a cold night.
(grain and mouse - must remember to snap lid on tightly - had to lower a shovel inside to let him climb out)

   Grain is important in the winter because the cows need the extra calories on cold nights to keep them warm. After feeding the animals in the barn, I walked down to the pasture with a bucket of grain in one hand and the now requisite cougar-deterring air horn in the other. I was just about to climb over the fence and fetch the black flat-bottomed rubber bowls I divide the grain into when I saw her. A doe. She was the same doe from the night of the cougar sighting a couple of weeks ago; the same doe that appeared at the beaver pond unafraid last night. The same doe Quinn and I have seen on occasion. We both thought her so vulnerable all by herself. Was she destined to be Karen’s cougar chow? Quinn and I plotted to round her up and put her in the barn at night to keep her safe. My practical sister’s reaction to this idea was ”Great, Denise, one more mouth to feed.”   And, of course, there was the little detail that she was a wild animal. I am not the sort who would jump in a panda enclosure to get a hug. Or place my child on the back of a buffalo for a picture. So, as much as I worried about the doe, I’d have to accept the situation- Que sera sera.
(All alone)

    Here she was alone. Again. The moment I saw her I was prepared for her to run away, but she didn’t. She walked toward me, ears turning around the way Miracle’s do when she’s listening intently. As she got closer I stood statue still. I was unprepared for what happened next. She copped a squat. Peed right in front of me. Deer urination is a really ridiculous reason to lovingly remember your mother who has passed away, but it was exactly what happened. My mom, the teacher, the woman amused by second grade humor, felt that nature shows omitted wild animals urination and defecation. As a result, she brought back pictures from her safari of cheetahs pooping. Now, here in front of me was a little doe. I never knew they squatted. The cattle just stand and pee. Now, the goats do squat. Interesting. Thinking of my mother I snapped a picture.
  (Like mother, like daughter)

    Abe was making quite a ruckus as I had yet to hand over the grain, while Anna and Andy stood idly by. He about went berserk when he saw me scoop out some of his precious grain and put it on the ground for the doe. Afterward, I went about my business and she walked over beyond some trees.

   After graining the Devons and, inspired by the doe, I walked on toward the beaver pond hoping for a glimpse of Wally. On the way I disturbed two more doe nibbling their dinner. I said, “Good evening ladies, lovely weather we’re having. All this sunshine is wonderful, isn’t it? I hope you’re not afraid; I’m just walking through here. Don’t worry about me.” Once again, I was stunned they didn’t scamper away.

(Light growing dim - one of a pair)

   Perhaps they found my voice friendly, or perhaps I don’t look menacing. Whatever it was they let me walk within 30 feet or so of them as they occasionally looked up at me and continued eating. Wally was not en casa, and the light was fading dramatically, so I began to head back. When, suddenly, my little doe appeared again. She’d been watching me from under a tree. And, as I made my way back, she continued to walk toward me. Closer and closer and closer we came to each other. I kept walking and talking, “Francine, I think your name might be Francine.” I babbled. “Well, Francine, I’m quite happy to make your acquaintance. But I want you to be careful; there are lots of predators around. Do you know Karen? I don’t suppose you do or we wouldn’t be chatting. I wonder, why don’t you meet up with those other two does? Don’t you like them? Or don’t they like you? Are they the mean girls? Little Francine, are you hungry? I’ll get you some deer food at the store so you’re not hungry this winter. I think you would like one of those deer blocks.”  I rambled until she was only about eight feet away. We studied each other. I felt so blessed to be standing there so close to her. I’d idolized Jane Goodall growing up and for a nanosecond I felt the thrill she must have felt for 45 years.  And then it was over and she bounced away.
(Henry's heavenly chocolate)

    Soon after, Alexis came over, chocolate ganache in hand ready for - what else? - “Lethal Weapon 3”.  We skipped the fancy-dancy dinner table, as we’ll do that later in the week. I took a bite of turkey. I had so much to be thankful for. I finally made a new friend I could talk to. And this was the best turkey I’d ever made.

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)

October 28th Brown Chicken - Brown Cow

   

(Pea getting the room ready for me to paint - moving electrical - scraping wallpaper)

Tom is in town so we spent the day working on the project that never got finished -- the guest bathroom.

After we picked up Henry from school and went shopping for Halloween costume odds and ends, we went over to have dinner with Chris and Lisa. It was to be a simple meal; they made a salad and potatoes, while we picked up a couple of barbecued chickens at Costco.

    The kids did their homework and ate downstairs, while we dined in the kitchen and caught up on everything. When Tom was pouring me a glass of wine, I noticed there was a message on my cell phone.

    “Hey, uh, this is Wayne.  (Wayne)

I don’t know how to tell you this, but when I got home from work there were two cows in my parking space. I didn’t know what to do. I tried shooing them back to the barn area, but they would just run away and then look at me. I did it again and again, but just as I got close they ran and kicked up their heels and, man, can they jump! Anyway, I only saw two. The other one is missing. I don’t know what else to do, but you probably should get home pretty quick. It's getting dark.”

I pressed 9 to save the message, hung up the phone smiling, and took a sip of my wine. Wayne was new at this. I was reminded of Maryruth. “Some cowboys are all hat and don’t have a lick of cow sense.”

Not that Wayne’s a cowboy, but he is a trouper, giving cow wrangling a try.

.

    “What was that?” Tom asked.

    “Wayne called. Andy and Anna are out. He didn’t see Abe.”

    “He knew which was which?” Lisa looked incredulous.

    “No. But I just know “Abie the Baby” didn’t leave the pasture in the dark.”

    “Should you guys rush home?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows as he shoveled in a forkful of avocado.

    “Even if we race home, we won’t be there for almost an hour,” Tom remarked, settling back in his chair. “They’re not Pancho and Lefty.”

    “They won’t go anywhere. None of our animals go anywhere. They’ll just hang around the pasture.”  We began eating again. I’d forgotten how tasty Costco chickens are.

    When we got home we drove to the barn, scooped out some grain and went down to the pasture. I’d forgotten to latch the gate when I grained them earlier.

    “Who wants a cookie? Who wants some treats?” I yelled in a sort of singsong tone. Sure enough, Abe came out from behind the barn and I heard cowbells a jingle-jangle-jingling towards us. I poured the grain into the dishes as Tom held the gate open for our wayward friends. They stepped in nice as you please and bellied up to the bar. Tom latched the gate and that was that.

(Anna ready for a late night snack)

A lot different from last year's March Madness (20th)

September 29th A Frightening Note

 (the fall pasture)

    Dry hot sun and crackling crunchy leaves. What better time to patch the barn roof? Ready or not the rain will come again. Tom got out the caulking gun and snipped the end of the epoxy. Just as he was about to climb on the metal roof he realized it might not be sturdy enough. Henry and I were called in to finish the job.
  (while we're working, Tom and his girlfriend are fooling around) (more shenanagans)

(Miracle can't resist Tom's beard)

    The roof was wobbly and very slippery so we took off our boots and socks to get a better grip. Tired of the buckets and drips every time it rains we moved seam by seam across the sides of the roof meticulously sealing every one.
( a little of my waning gecko tatto) (farm-boy Henry patching the barn rooff)

    Afterward, Tom and Henry went in the house to clean up as they both had things to do for work and school.  The unemployed freeloader in the family, I stayed to put the animals up for the night. While I was doling out hay, I heard a terrible cry. It sounded like one of the cows was in distress. I rushed outside to see if I could identify which one. I heard it again. It sounded painful. I ran farther worried I was going to see a cow on the ground covered in cougar. As I got to the top of the hill that overlooks the pasture I heard the cry again. This time I could tell it was coming from the house not the field. I stood there shaking with laughter as I realized it was Henry practicing the cornet. (not your grandfather's cornet)

September 28th I Want My Mummy

   

(Halloween has arrived early)

    I’ve had a dream. It’s not a big dream like world peace or even a lofty dream like financial independence.  I simply want to park in my garage. It’s not something I thought would happen, after Wayne moved all his bikes and and tools and stuff in, but I clung to it nonetheless.

    Just after lunchtime while I was painting - what else but trim,  Wayne came to tell me there was something big in the garage and he didn’t know what to do with it. He and Tom were putting together some shelves and they needed to know where to put this. I was stunned to see my “mobile barn” transformed into a normal suburban vehicle sitting in a ship shape garage with shelves. A newly painted garage I might add. (Wayne makes my dreams come true)

    Like the garage, I know little by little things are improving around here. Last year we were so overwhelmed we were completely holiday free. No Christmas tree, no stockings, no Easter eggs and certainly no Halloween decorations were ever so much as lifted out of their storage boxes. And we have decorations. A plethora of skulls, Marcus the Carcass various mummies, black cat silhouettes a giant witch for the top of the house and best of all our graveyard perfect to complete the haunted house feel.
(Henry and Pea get going)
    Tom announced since he could now access the Halloween decorations out of the garage he was getting out all the tombstones. A few years ago we made tombstones for the front yard. Tom constructed them out of foam core, I did the research – as they’re all actual tombstones – Henry and I burned the letters and did some of the “stone” painting, but as you might have guessed, Pea did the construction and little flourishes. During the move and subsequent storage they’d incurred some damage and needed repair.  So as I went back to my new career – painting the trim on the house, they set to starting Halloween.
  (Miracle helps Tom)
    There was much discussion as to what to put where. We all walked up and down the road to find the best position for the graveyard. Should it be facing the road or the pasture. Should the witch be put on the house or the apartment? Toby, Bruno, Henry Pea and I stood there staring. Envisioning. Dean thought the whole thing a waste of time because who would ever drive down Mosquito Lake Road and see it? He had a point, but we ignored it as he was spoiling our fun. We came to a group consensus and were walking back when we saw fresh bear scat.
(Henry,Pea & friends make repairs)
    “Well, now we know what the dogs were barking at last night.” Tom laughed at the thought of Laurie running into a black bear on the way to the car. We looked around and found a well-worn path from the road to the apple trees. (Dean relaxes by Zeke) (one of the tombstones) (another tombstone)
(and another) (Pea give Alexander a hand)

    Almost out of hay, we let the goats, sheep and Miracle graze in the yard as the graveyard progressed all afternoon. First repairs, then lighting, then the timer ad to be rigged. The skeleton was strung over the entry and the mummy put into place.
 (graveyard)

(skeleton hanging from the entry)

 (Our Halloween House)
(Ahh finally my Mummy)
    The final touch? The doorbell was changed from the cougar scream which was set to torment me after my near death experience in July to a more appropriate ghoulish ghost moan. Our nightmare before Christmas was now complete.

September 20th Rosie The Riviter?

(Not my best look - need new coveralls and a glass of wine)

    After eight days four rolls of tape, two rolls of plastic, three tarps, four rolls of pink recycled paper, thirty-five gallons of primer and twenty-five gallons of semi gloss the garage, house and shop are painted.

    Well, almost. The trim isn’t painted and well, the porch area isn’t painted either. I was afraid I was committing “bat-icide”. Many, many bats live in my eaves and we usually coexist nicely. They eat mosquitoes and I prefer not to have mosquitoes. It’s symbiotic.
(Henry and Dean prep the front of the house)
(The hard part was - every morning we had to put the paper back up because of heavy dew)

(Toby came for just a day or two and has been here more than a week)

    As I began spraying the porch, I tried to wake them up and scare them away beating a broom and hurrying them along, but I heard their little chirps and squeaks. I saw their little feet moving and they kept going in the wrong direction. I tried to harden my heart, but I couldn’t be a part of their demise so Tom will have to brush that part.
(Henry helps clean the sprayer)

    Now that I’m finished, I can’t tell you how sore my hands are. At first I wondered if the spray gun cleaner was more toxic than I’d thought. I woke up in the middle of the night with tingling fingers. I thought perhaps I had nerve damage. I started doing research on the Internet. And then I realized I simply had spray-gun-hand. Only two of my fingers were sore and the pain predictably went up my arm to my elbow. I’m popping Advil™ like their Lifesavers™.
(The shop in mid-prep - front is prepped, but tarps are being moved around to cover blacktop etc.)

Wayne came back from his BMX trip to Whistler and thought I did a pretty good job. I’ve tried to look around at my work and be objective, but all I see are the flaws: the thin spots, the drips, and the fact that the yard looks flocked and ready for Christmas. I really tried to cover everything. I even taped the plastic down, but as I sprayed the force of the paint would cause the plastic and the tarps to fly up. Henry and I will have try and cut it all back. It’s not corn, so I know it’ll grow.
(Dean laughs while Henry gets an accidental paint blast)

September 14th Uplifting Experience

(my trusty helpers)

     After dropping Henry off at school, I nervously rented the paint sprayer at Hardware Sales rental department. I say nervously because I was very worried about painting with a paint sprayer. I didn’t think it was brain surgery, but I figured it might be hard not to create drips that will run down the side of the house. I didn’t want to spend an enormous amount of time, energy and money to do a poor job.

    Mac, the girl at the counter, assured me it was pretty easy once you got the hang of it. Indulging my fears she recommended I get their “Z” boom so I’d feel safe while trying to paint the upper portion of the house. It looked great, sounded great and was only $200.00. I thought my life still worth this much so I rented it for the day –and as a Lucky Strike Extra - it was Friday, which meant I could keep it all weekend.
(Craig delivers the "Z" Boom)

    Craig, the delivery guy arrived by 2:00PM and instructed me on the use of the machine. It looked fun. The only problem I found out is the hill on the most dangerous side of the house is too sloped for the machine. Consequently, a piercing warning bell sounds off in a relentless rhythmic pattern– signaling the machine is positioned in such a way as to “cause serious injury or death”. Suddenly, I didn’t feel any better.
(Up on the scary side for a test drive)

    As it turns out, the “Z” boom wasn’t fun at all. In fact, it was absolutely terrifying. I felt as though I was standing on top of a Ferris wheel the entire time. Of course, I took all the necessary precautions; I wore a harness and secured it to the machine. Donned ear protection to drown out all the warning bells despite common sense. Got a respirator for the fumes and goggles to protect my eyes from over-spray. To keep my hair from turning Colonial White, I wrapped up my hair up in red bandanas giving me a sort of Aunt Jemima look. (The not so scary side)

    Using the simple picture controls and joystick I stretched the boom to its full height. I stood there frozen. The machine looked and felt wiggly as it tilted down the hill. As directed, I turned it off so the bells wouldn’t sound and began spraying my primer coat. When I finished, I couldn’t turn the machine back on. Now in full panic, I could feel my spine tense up. “What would I do?” I started screaming for help. I called Toby, Henry, Dean, but they’d all gone inside for some reason or another and couldn’t hear me. I was alone. Like a squirrel caught in the middle of the Champs Elysee, I stood motionless trying to breathe gripping the safety bars. Terror stricken I just stood there and stood there afraid to move my feet. Wondering if I would have to climb down. I didn’t want to climb down. I would slip I would fall. I considered my funeral. Lisa new what to serve, Tom could make margaritas. I’d planned the whole thing – I’d go Mexican. Henry would need a new suit, the one he has is too small. It was after all my last party. I didn’t want it messed up. As I stood there I had more time to think. I worried about all the unopened mail Lisa’d find. She’d find all the stuff I hadn’t filed yet. My office was a mess. I had to get down from here. I had dirty laundry. Slowly, I turned and tried the engine. Miraculously it started. I felt guilty for every single time I had made fun of my mother’s fear of heights. I’m becoming a little old lady; soon I’ll be nervous looking down from the edge of a steep sidewalk.
(Out of the box) (while I'm up there I might as well get some trim done)

    Despite my fear, I went up and down in that thing all weekend. I never really made friends with it, but I did my best. My best did not include taping off the top windows - I refused to lean out that far. Tom could scrape them later. My best did not include getting a third coat on the cedar shingles at the top, because the wheels of the boom began slipping and spinning and my best did not include keeping the upper roofs free of over-spray. At the end of the weekend, I felt as though I’d been on one of those Oprah episodes where she and Gail jump off poles of ridiculous heights to face their ultimate fears and build character. I have to admit I felt proud of myself for doing it, and I did become used to it in a way, but as Craig drove Big Blue away. I was happy.
(with my beloved safety harness)

September 12th Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

(This side of the house is on slope - the bottom of the house is four feet from the ground- note the steps)

Wayne came home the other day and informed me that I needed to have the house painted before the rains started. If I didn’t I could lose the tens of thousands of dollars I’d invested in re-siding the house, shop and garage. Always skeptical, I called the manufacturer to confirm this outlandish statement and unfortunately found it to be absolutely correct. Great.

I went on craigslist and began getting prices. Painters/students anyone. Not suprisingly, t’s really, really expensive to have a three-story house painted. It seems no one but Spiderman wants to scale the side of your house with a spray gun in his hand. The bids were astronomical and frankly I couldn’t justify it while Tom is working hard to earn money and I’m sitting around eating Bon-Bons or finishing the walking path – either way I needed to make myself useful, so like any impoverished, able-bodied wife of Daniel Boone, I decided no matter how much I didn’t want to do it, I had to paint it myself.

I have experience. You can check my resume – I painted 23101 Oakfield Road. When my mother wanted to sell our house WE painted it. Three colors, two coats. My mother, Lisa and me armed with paintbrushes and White, Steamed Milk and Barcelona Brown paint. We painted and painted and painted. Eaves –were my specialty. Hot and dirty and endless I went one by one wiping away Black widows and trying to get them done in one coat. You can never get them done in one coat.

Step One: You’re supposed to pressure wash the house, but with less than a week of projected sunshine to go, I skipped that step. Hmm. I haven’t even started and I’m already cutting corners, not a good sign. I’d probably regret it, and Tom would probably blast me for it, but time was not on my side. Anyway, the house had just been sided last spring and I’d just loaned Lisa the pressure washer.

Step Two: Covering the windows, doors, plants, shrubs and my beloved newly finished walk-way. Lisa came over to help get the project off the ground, and truthfully, from the moment we began I realized what an enormous job I’d undertaken. (Lisa getting the moss etc. off the garage so we could put drop cloths down)

Wayne promised to help me paint the house. We’d do it together he said. It would be easy he said. After all he works for a paint contractor, but just as I was planning to get started Wayne announced he was taking off for a week to Whistler. Coincidence?
(Luther below the window - holding the cement down)

Having experienced Tom’s imploding ladder episode and resulting amnesia I thought it prudent to have someone around in case toppled off a gable. At least someone would be here to call for an ambulance. The general response was to try and talk me out of the project. Just when I resigned myself to solitude, Toby called and said she was on her way down from Canada and would be staying for a few days. Divine intervention.

September 10th Witness

(ten minutes of a goose poop free path)

Determined to finish the path once and for all, I began the morning sweeping and hosing down my cement stones. Once clean of extraneous goose poop I began applying the semi-gloss cement sealer. It’s supposed to make them look more like real stones. The whole process could have gone much faster if not for the toads. I was horribly afraid of shellacking the little fellas. They’ve been using the gaps between the rocks as safe passageways. To avoid them meant pounding on the rocks and stomping down the path every few feet.

When all was said and done, I think I lost one, maybe two little guys who hopped the wrong way. The rest were a catch and release - to more suitable housing. (applying shellac - while trying not to annihilate the amphibian population)

Later, I got ready and headed for town. Today, I was meeting Mike at the Bellingham Courthouse to fight my undeserved speeding ticket of Mother’s Day. Not wanting to speed on the way to traffic court and due to various other circumstances I arrived by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin at 2:57 PM for a 3:00 PM appearance. Luckily there is always parking to be had in Bellingham.

Court here is very different from Los Angeles. We were the only ones in the courtroom. I listened to the judge who gave me three options: to contest, to accept guilt with circumstances and to accept guilt but keep it off my record. Four different times he urged me not to contest as he “would more than likely rule for the state”. I thought about it and knew it would be safer to plea guilty and have it taken off my record. But I couldn’t. Not this time, I didn’t do it and I was going to stick to my guns regardless of the outcome. Dumb as that maybe.

The judge nodded and began by reading a two-page statement given by the officer. All I heard was blah blah blah, 100% sure, blah, blah, blah, Axton Road, blah, blah, blah. When he was finished, the judge turned to me and asked what I had to say.

I told my story simply without too many details. I did not deviate. I’m from Los Angeles, half my roommates had gone to Pepperdine Law School, my old beau had been on “People’s Court” and I had watched the entire OJ trial while my mother was in the hospital. I started by mentioning I was never on the road the ticket was issued for and went on from there. The judge listened passively. When I finished he asked me if I had any witnesses. I stated I did and Mike was sworn in. He told his version of the same story with a few different details. The judge listened.

I held my breath. He said the officer had even gotten the speed limits wrong and he dismissed the ticket. Justice! Freedom! The American way!

 Mike and I went out for a celebratory cup of coffee. We sipped and reveled in the obvious wisdom of this very insightful judge. Later, I continued the celebration by putting the final stones in my walkway.
(the finished product)

August 13th The End Is Here

    I got up early and fired up the mixer. It seemed like I had the lion’s share of the path done, so I thought it would go fairly quickly. But just like that last box when you’re packing up your house to move – the end never seems to come. I worked endlessly in the hot August sun - for hours.

    I was not going to stop until I finished. I finished. And I was finished.

August 12th Little Surprises

    You know it’s going to be a bad day when you wake up and find your Anatolian shepherd has the squirts.

     I was unprepared for such an affront to my senses before my first cup of coffee. Covering each area with wads of paper towel, I opened the windows, got out the Febreeze™ turned on the morning Olympic coverage and brewed a pot of joe.

    As I settled down to take my first sip, Irish began scrambling for the door I leapt up to help him. Just as I was leashing Irish up, I realized puppy Bruno probably needed to go out too; I called his name. Like a bullet, Bruno came speeding down the stairs. Confused he turned and went the wrong way. I left Irish at the door while I picked Bruno to take him out with Irish. Not a wise decision. When prioritizing one should consider the consequences, Bruno peeing in the house: a puddle the size of sponge – my giant breed dog not being able to hold it, a lake the size of Erie.

    The day continued along these lines. I settled down again to have my coffee when a bat flew by my head. Immediately, I locked the assassin (Emmett) in my room. Not sure how to get the poor thing out I let him sleep in the dining room on the curtain rod and went back to my coffee.
(Bat on curtains in dining room)

   

I called Lisa about Irish and she said to give him a Tums™. "It might cause constipation."

    "Not a real concern."

     Still trying to get through my first cup, I read an email from my dad needing me to deal with an apparent credit card fraud situation in Paris. Fabulous.

   

    I worked on the cement walkway for hours. Mixing, molding,trowling, mixing, molding, trowling trying to get the path done before Tom arrives. I looked up to assess my work. I'd done about 50 feet. I could tell where I had stopped as the path was littered with Diet Coke™ cans. Too much soda.  I went in for water to find Irish and Bruno curled up on the sofa watching “Days of Our Lives”. Briefly I thought of switching it for them to “One Life to Live”, but went back to work. (our mixed up bat flying through the sun room and out the front door)

    (Sam's shot - would have been great if the can wasn't full of paint and he hadn't been aiming at the giant round bale of hay ten feet away)

    Most of the time, the kids would help me lift the 80lb bags up into the mixer, but they were busy working on a video they want to film. Not wanting to disturb them, not having a brain in my head and having visions of grandeur I chose to move the cement mixer by myself. It collapsed and fell on top of me. Pinned underneath and screaming for help that never came, I eventually wriggled out. Frantic, my head pounding, and my back aching I came inside fit to be tied.

    What I found was, three little deaf elves had cleaned my house. I still needed upward of four Advil™, but my mood drastically changed. They’d wanted to surprise me. Or they needed a clean set for their video – I’m not sure which, but I’m not asking too many questions.

   

July 22nd Fly Away Home

    "Life isn’t fair" - my mother's mantra.  I learned it's true meaning, I mean really learned about life's cruel insjustice it as a little girl when I first realized I couldn’t drink chocolate malts whenever I wanted and still fit in my jeans.  I learn it again and again every time Tom goes home.

    Monday was the appointed day and 3:00PM was the appointed hour for clean up, in order to get to the plane on time. So reluctantly everyone did as they were programmed to do without tears.

    "It's funny, no matter how long I stay, four days or ten, I always wish for one more day." Tom said quietly.

    "I know." There wasn't much else to say.

    Per usual the ride to the airport was sullen and silent. Craig being exactly like his father was asleep in the backseat before we hit the first turn in the road on Mosquito Lake. Tom occasionally made idle conversation about things I should take care of. He reminded me to put a second coat of paint on his fence. He briefly held my hand as I drove. We discussed cutting the tops of the posts next time and finding some decorative tops to really finish it off. We talked of dentists, payments and all the things we accomplished while he was here like the closing in of the mudroom, hanging the medicine cabinet, and the garden gate finally getting a latch.
  (Starting on the mudroom) (Plywood dividing open jacuzzi area and mudroom)

    As we said good-bye at the airport, my eyes started to well up and I got in the car where I proceeded to sob. Henry patted my hand and said soothingly,” Mama, he’ll be back. He’ll be back.”

    “I know you’re right, Honey. It just hit me hard this time. I’ll be ok.” And we drove away.

    Tears dried, busy chatting about going to Lisa’s and running errands, we barely heard the phone ring. Henry glanced at the missed call and said, “It’s Daddy.”

    “Well, call him back. Maybe he forgot something.”

    “Daddy? Did you call us?” Silence. “What?” Silence. “Daddy says, they’re not going.”

“Are you sure that’s what he said? He wasn’t kidding? Call him back.”

“OK.” – “Daddy, Mama wants to know if you’re kidding? No. He's not kidding. There is technical difficulty, come and get ‘em.” Henry relayed.
(new gate and fence boards - door to left goes to mudroom. - windows on left are the game room)

    And so, Tom and I worked on the fence boards one more evening while the boys played darts, cleaned the kitchen like angels and made tacos. After dinner in the dining room under the chandelier with lights as bright as Dodger Stadium - Craig opened a can of whoop-ass and kicked our butts at the food-chain card game “Predator”. It was nice having that If-you-could-just-please-stay-just-a-little-bit-longer-time

July 20th Our Big Backyard

(Craig heads out to the field)

   

More work and more trips to Lowes™ and Wayne back for more made this day seem like any other day except for when the entertainment committee arrived, our neighbors Kristi and Stan. They came roaring up in their big shiny truck with food. For no particular reason, they sat on the edge of their truck as we worked and chatted. NASCAR, drag racing, tubing (down the river) and guns were mainstays of the conversation. We’re talking serious county. I asked Stan if he wanted a beer and he said “No. I have one in the truck.” (Stan)

(Craig gone native)

    These are two are salt of the Earth. The type of people you call in an emergency and you know, no matter what time it is, they’ll be there. Kristi and Stan laugh easily, feel as comfortable as an old pair of work boots and you don’t have to fuss. They’re people who know who they are, in fact they knew each other only eight weeks when they got married. When it’s right it’s right.

   

Unfortunately they had other plans and couldn’t stay for our barbecue out by the pond. Just as they were about to leave, Annie, Quinn, Phoebe and Winifred showed up. Tom whipped up his father’s chicken recipe that’s being handed down through the family and we didn't dally getting our party going -"shee-it"

 after all it's Saturday Night. (Tom, Annie, Craig and Wayne - seated)

Our last but not least important guests didn’t travel far, for our barbecue at the pond. Kristi (another one) and Olie (short for Olerud- Kristi is a baseball fan) her dog a Katrina Rescue walked over from their new home in Grandpa Horn’s old place, which means I finally have a neighbor lady – like on Califa Street when I had Anice and Nona.
(Annie watches the meal being prepared by the menfolk)
    We gorged on chicken, corn, watermelon (ala ‘Big Lu” with Pico de Gallo and lemon), potato salad and fresh crab Wayne caught out of the bay the other day. While the kids fished, the pack of dogs played and we sat enjoying the day turn into evening.
  (Wayne's dog - Abbey showing all the other pups how it's done) (Phoebe & Henry go fishing)
  (Perplexed Henry actually catches a fish as vegetarian Quinn screams "throw it back before you kill it's little trout spirit" and Phoebe shrieks for no real reason other than it seems called for)

    Annie and I noticed smoke. We were all amused to find out it was a campsite. Our pond is close to one of our property lines and there were campers on the adjoining vacant land. It felt absurd to be in your backyard and  see people really camping not just kids pitching a tent in the neighbors yard, but really truly “getting away from it all”.  I feel extremely lucky.

(There is so much stuff and so many dogs - Wayne drives the food back to the house with Craig and Quinn following behind)

July 16th Out With The Old

(before)
All of our bathrooms are horrible, but the bathroom meant for Henry is like using the bathroom at a gas station. It is disgusting. I’ve never spent much time in there as Mike has been using it for the last year. He never complained. Now this is either a testament to his generous nature or his standards are way too low.

You have to know; many, many children used this bathroom before we moved in. Fifteen kids of various ages lived here and other than the master bath (and I use the term loosely) this was the only bath or shower. It’s like a horse that was ridden hard.

So Henry and I decided we would rectify the situation as a surprise for Tom and Craig. I began unscrewing the bath/shower surround. When I was done I still couldn’t get the darn thing out. I didn’t want to force anything and have water pouring out everywhere, I was in over my head, and so I called a plumber. After all, if you screw up paint of some cement, you can do it over, if you mess up plumbing you ruin your house.

In the mean time, Henry and I took a trip to Home Depot™ and purchased our supplies: four marble 12” squares ($3.00) and four 4” smoky blue glass tiles ($2.00), a girlie-sized Black & Decker™ jigsaw ($29.00), a damaged piece of Hardibacker board (10% off)($9.00), mastic ($12.00) and new taupe grout ($7.00), a sink (($24.00) and a faucet on sale for ($69.00). We had plywood and the sink cabinet I’d bought off Craigslist with Phoebe, my bargain-hunting-home-decorating-companion in California. We were good to go. It was only 9:00PM. Still light for more than an hour, the night was young.

As I measured the dimensions of the cabinet and marked my plywood I recalled, “Measure twice, cut once”. Nervous, I went up and down the stairs fifteen times making sure I had it exactly right. I still screwed up and had the sink and inch to the left. I don’t know how it happened but it did. Henry wanted to leave it

“No one will notice.”
“You’re serious? You don’t think your dad will bring it up for the next three lifetimes?”
“Why do we have to be cursed with Mr. Do-Everything-Perfect? His standards are just too high.”
“No. If we didn’t do it right, it would be wrong.”
“You sound just like him.”
“We’re on the same team.”

Slowly, I kept shaving wood off with my new handy-dandy-not-scary- perfect-for-craft-projects-saw. It didn’t happen the first time.

“This is a little like Goldilocks” Henry commented until I had it just right.
After that, we had to do the same to the Hardibacker board. That was easy as now we had our template. Once complete, I screwed the pieces to the cabinet. While Henry eagerly began smashing tile wrapped in a towel with the sledgehammer
(Henry takes a break with Luther)

(Henry smashes tile)

(Spa-boy's marble)

After we'd done our chores, it was now getting on 10:30PM and we were tired, but eager to see some results. We slathered on the mastic and began placing pieces on the board. Our concept we decided was large “land forms with rivers of blue glass”. The tile and the marble weren’t the same height so we thought it would be good to have large pieces of marble to set your glass on or whatever.

In the morning, the plumber arrived. He was like a caricature of a plumber in an ad for another plumber. Obnoxious, rude, condescending and he had a cruel laugh.

“Lady, this house is whacked. But that’s ok, it keeps me in business. Heh, heh heh.”

He told me he couldn’t give me an estimate until I’d taken everything out. I told him I was afraid to take everything out because I didn’t know what I was doing. He instructed me to cut these tubes and when I got everything done to give him a call.

“But I thought I’d asked you to come out here and actually do the work today.”

“No way Lady, that’s not how I do things. Hey, heh, heh. Let me know when you’ve got it done.”

After he left I cut the tubes as he instructed. Water began gushing everywhere. I got a bowl. It was coming fast and the way the cabinet was situated I couldn’t quite get the bowl under the leak. I called the plumber.

“Hi, I did exactly as you said and now I have water leaking everywhere.”

“Can’t be. Did you turn off the valve?”

“You did when you were here. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh yeah. Well, it should stop, its just water that was left in the line.”

“Uh no it isn’t, it’s gushing. I’ve filled two buckets. You’ve got to come back.”

“I’m not coming back Lady. I’ve got stuff to do. Go turn off your water main.”

“What? You’re the reason this is leaking. I called you because I was afraid of just this.” I hung up and called another plumber. They’d be right out, no problem. In the mean time, I grabbed my sledgehammer and started ripping the cabinet out with a vengeance. Demolition is better than therapy.

“Mom! Remind me never to disobey you with the mini-sledge in your hand. Wow! I’ve never seen this side of you.”

Lickety-split I had that baby out. I was motivated, as I’d had visions of water dripping down my walls into my new kitchen and dining room. That would really surprise Pea. Not going to happen.
(waiting for help)

Next, I headed down the hill to the pump house to turn off the water. The grass is high there and as I marched down determined to do as instructed, I stepped on a snake. I screamed so loud I think I could be heard in Thousand Oaks, CA but I can’t be sure. I did not go on. I went back and figured I could change the buckets until Marv's Plumbing arrived.

(Irish approves of Marv's Plumbing)

And suddenly he was here. As I told Lloyd the events of the morning, he looked at me with such kindness. Assured me he would take care of everything and said I looked like I needed a hug. And then he hugged me. He really and truly hugged me, this big Nordic guy who was like a knight in shining armor. In odd twist of fate, Lloyd is a medieval re-enactor and actually makes armor. Strange.
  (Lloyd)

Anyway, I pointed him in the direction of the shut off valve and he began making things all better.

While Lloyd worked his magic, Henry and I grouted the sink counter.

  (grouting)

 (Tile counter waiting in hallway ready to go)

if I do say so myself, it looks great. I’d intended to get the drywall up, paint and have everything done before Tom gets here but it’s not going to happen. When I looked at all the weird corners and angles I was going to have to fix I realized that Bozo the plumber was right. This house is whacked.

July 13th There's Always One

(Henry is sick to death of this project)
Saturday evening, the girls decided to brave it and come out. Well, they didn’t really decide, Henry promised to bake them cookies and guilted them into it. He called from the car while we were at Home Depot™ picking up supplies for our next project. He played Quinnlike a fiddle until she couldn’t stand it anymore and was packing her bag. She said “I can stand up to a lot of people, but not when my cousin starts with the lovey-dovey stuff.” Honestly, I’m not sure if he missed Quinn and Phoebe or was sick of being out here with alone with boring old me.

The evening was filled with flour, shortening and Tom Hanks, but in the morning it was back to work, painting fence posts in anticipation of Tom and Craig’s arrival. Of course, the geese felt they could and should contribute their two cents. Naturally, there was lemonade and lots of resting in the shade as Luther is the foreman. (Luther and Quackmire inspect the work)

In the thick of it is Quackmire. It’s always Quackmire going after Luther’s tail, climbing on top of things, or the last to go back in the pen. (bill full of paint, Quackmire tells Phoebe to get back to work) (Phoebe gets Quackmire with a kiss)
(Quackmire is always in the middle of everything) (Lu's had enough & gets Quackmire to lift off)

(Quackmire goes too far)

July 10th The Sounds of Silence

(Henry trying to teach the geese to fly) (Henry explains the finer points of flying - A little "Fly Away Home")

(The geese, Mathilda, Ruthie, Clara, Mabel, Lloyd, Alfred, Cleveland & Quackmire give it a try)

    Days that stain your memory forever, start out like any other day. You get up, eat something and benignly go about your normal routine having no idea what is to come. The day my mother died Toby was making lemon squares in the kitchen. The day I was raped Lisa and I had a fight while driving over Laurel Canyon.

    Today was Thursday and Henry went to gymnastics; I got a cut and color, went to Home Depot™ and applied for jobs online. Mike drove up from Tacoma to help me work on the front walk while Henry started his Tom Sawyer routine painting the fence posts white.

    Mike and I started about 3:00PM and worked steadily until around 9:00PM when we began to lose both our stamina and the sun. As we were pouring the last concrete mold I heard a loud “MOOO”. I stopped and listened; it’s not often the cows moo. They’ll moo at me if they want a cookie, but not if I’m not walking by. I didn’t hear anything else so I continued trowling.

    “MOOOO”. I looked up and scanned the field. Who was mooing? I couldn’t even see the cows. I wondered if they’d gotten out. Or if one of them did. I thought of Pancho and Lefty. When they’d gotten out the other cows had tattled.

    “Mike, I think something’s wrong with the cows. I hear mooing.”

    “I’m sure they’re fine. How’s the hay situation?”

    “Well, there isn’t much down there just some fragments, but they have an entire field of grass. I’d be surprised they’re mooing about that, but I did give them treats yesterday, maybe they just want some cookies or grain.”

    “That’s probably it. When are you getting hay? Do you know yet?”

    “Little Chris is bringing some out tomorrow. Mike? I don’t hear any bells. Nothing. Listen.” We stood there listening while the cement mixer churned rhythmically. Silence. Loud Silence.

    “MOOOOOO”.

    “Mike something’s wrong.”

    “I don’t know about the moos but the bell thing is eerie. No one is moving down there. I’ll go with you. We need a flashlight, it’s going to be dark quickly.”

    “I’ll get my headlamp Tom bought me, it’s in the chicken coop.” I put it on, grabbed a bucket filled with grain because you never know when you’ll need a bribe and started running toward the pasture. “Mike, Let’s go!”

    “Should I close up the geese?”

    “NO! We can do that when we get back, we’re losing the light.” Usually I would have had a dog with me, but they were all locked inside because they kept stepping on the wet cement.

    “I’m coming.” We started down to the pasture. Wearing my headlight I could see into the loafing shed. There was a pair of eyes reflecting back at me. Whew. One.

    “I see one in the barn. But where are the others?” We looked around.

    “Here’s one!” Mike called. “Anna is over in the barn, almost like’s she’s hiding.”
(Little Abie the Baby - wedged in)
    “I found the trouble! Abe is stuck in the round bale feeder.” There he was half in and half out. He looked relieved to see me. He seemed to relax. I gave him some of the grain and pet him. He calmly let me try and guide him out of his predicament, but he just couldn’t seem to really move in either direction. I ran and got a sledge. We banged away at the board as Abe calmly allowed us to aim above his head. I thought he’d get wild and hysterical, but he just stood there looking at me. Suddenly there was a huge rustling in the bushes.