two more weeks

I finished fall term with no less than three emotional breakdowns. That's pretty big for me.

Winter break has been a  much-needed reprieve.

I have been helping my sister feed the horses and goats in the morning. It's a great way to get out of the house. Otherwise, I'd be in front of the computer knitting all day.

I need to get the Christmas sewing done, or nobody gets their flannel jammy pants I try to pawn off every year.

Luigi the love goat has been successful with his ladies. In just  a couple more weeks, we will have the pitter-pattering sound of baby goats bleating and trundling around the pasture. According to my sister, nothing is cuter. (I might object- a baby Panda is pretty darned cute. So is a piglet. But that's an argument for another day).

Feeding the horses is a great way to eliminate any grouchiness you might possess. I start up the quad, (four-wheeler) and the dogs go crazy. Whiskey and Babydog think they are quad-herders. They circle around me like sharks in a feeding frenzy. It's hilarious.

I load a couple bales of hay, and head out to the field, where the geldings are standing at the gate, looking at us like we abandoned them forever. They are muddy-faced from rolling. Sometimes we have to re-adjust the horse blankets because they've all but torn them off. (Horse blankets are for keeping them dry, not so much warm. In W.Oregon, dry is the more important of the two). It's a sight to see: Dogs wagging and barking, horses standing around me trying to snag a bite of hay, me waving my arms to get them out of my way.

When I'm done, I race around the field with Babydog chasing me. It's a good work out for her. A way for me to get better at riding a quad really fassssst. (I see the appeal- those things can move.)

Then it's the mare's turn. Snoopy and Nocona are pretty patient- they act like it's no big deal. But soon as I get through the gate, her comes Snoopy running full tilt at me. I zoom off and she chases me. It's too funny.
Then I stop, and this is what I see when I turn around:

Snoopy is rightly named. She has to put her nose right on yours and get a whiff of your breath. That velvety nose is one of the best animal kisses a human can get.

This morning, Sis had me help her trim goat hooves. Luigi was needing it pretty bad. Normally I avoid him becase he STINKS to all high heaven. Trimming goat hooves is not a cake walk, but we get it done. I had to take off my gloves to get a good hold of him. 

Now here I sit. I've washed my hands about 30 times and I STILL STINK like Luigi. Pee. Yew. Times a Billion. 

I guess I better break out the tomato juice. 

Weathered Weather

Our Weather Goat (Meaning a 'fixed' male goat, NOT a goat that predicts the weather, but hey- around here, you never know) has a stenosed (narrowed) urethra, meaning either it's going to rain till we all buy boats, or the poor dude is on his way to the BBQ. He's a Boer. His name is Po.

(Normally, weathers are butchered, but this one was a pet goat that was 'rescued' and part of the humorous stuff I get to blog about. Boers are meat goats for my cityfied friends).

Long story short, when they get fixed, the peeing problem happens anyway, but since they aren't expected to be around for a long time, it doesn't concern those involved. Kinda like steers for beef. (Even big $ breeding bulls are only good for 4-6 years- where do you think that hamburger comes from?)

I know, right? I call him Po'Goat now. I feel his pain now and then at work when I can't get out of an O.R. room to pee. The human bladder was not meant to hold more than 1000mL, so when you hit 1001- you guessed it. Especially when a  couple three babies have raised hell with it as they went by.

So, Poor Po'Goat is not feeling well. Not much Dr. Wilber can do either, because there are just some things you can't fix.

Don't you worry- there are going to be replacements, because Luigi the Love goat has been busy with his two lady friends. Long about February, we should have the pitter-patter of little goat feet running around the pasture. More for me to write about, (and you to read about).

Happy Sunday, I'm going back to the homework page. sigh.

a little too thin

We have busy mornings on Monday.

I'm up early usually. I get coffee'd up, work on a few projects, mess around on the internet by checking in with Ravelry and Facebook, get logged in to OSU for school, and enjoy the 'pre-child wake-up" time.

I started a sweater I've been meaning to make for years. It's exciting that I'm making headway on projects. Christmas is coming, and we handcrafters are always thinking months in advance. Things that we make take time and planning and organization- things that handcrafters don't have a whole lot of.

I was sitting here, reading, knitting, drinking coffee. The kids wake up. I start moving around with breakfast, laundry, getting Joe dressed, etc.

Kids are ready to go to school. It is pouring rain out.
Typical morning.
I sit back down to knit some more- missing a needle. It was right here when I got up to take care of kids.

I look around me. I stand up. Nothing.
Okay, so I re-trace my steps. Pearl is not graced with stuff like 'square feet', so there is not a whole lot of places it could get lost in. NOTHING.

Kids are off to school, I'm on the verge of losing it. I secretly blame them for intentionally ruining my morning, although I know they didn't touch my knitting needles.
I decide to take a shower.
As I go to pull off my hoodie, there was a yank on my hair. Pain and realization rips through my head.
My knitting needle was in my ponytail, right were I put it.

I'm still blaming the kids.

My 'little' brother

35 years ago today, my little brother Cody Martin was born.

He had the rare privilege of entering this world at my maternal grandparent's home in Eagle Idaho, complete with Doctor (grampa) and Nurse (gramma) attending.

Dad, my sister and I were four hours away, on the ranch waiting for the news. I don't remember hoping whether I would get a brother or sister, just excited about it.

That morning, quite early, I was being up because I thought I heard the phone ring. I had some tea at the table all bleary-eyed (I was ten), and all of a sudden dad came scooting down the stairs grabbed the phone off the wall and furiously dialing the rotary plate. 1-208-939-0397.. ( I remember it- I think)
I asked, "Did Mom have the baby?", "Yes" was the reply.
"What is it?"
"A boy.'
"What did you name him?"
"Cody Martin."
"Cody?!?!" ( thinking, what kind of name is that?)

And 12 hours later, my sister and I were taking turns holding our wrinkly and pink baby brother.
(He is still wrinkly.. may not as pink though)

When he was little, we would play with him like a toy. He was our real "Baby Alive" (a doll that was popular in the 70's 'cause it would eat and poop- yeah, I know.) We would dress him up, make costumes for him, and mom would get furious over it.
One time I 'surprised' mom by using a marker on his bottom that said, "Hi Mom!" so when she changed him she would see it. Mom didn't think that was as funny as I thought...

He would get into everything. The fireplace (no fire-don't go there), the woodbox, the fridge (when mom was defrosting it), the muddy garden, the chicken house, the barn, even the milk buckets! He was constantly losing his cloth diaper. He was hard to keep nailed to one spot. Good thing mom had us around to help because she had a hard time keeping track of him.

My sister and I dressed him up in a blanket cape, a toilet brush and one of those rubber flowered swim caps that a cousin handed down and called him "Toilet king" or "Super Toad".

He had just about every pair of Underoos. (remember those?) He could wear the Superman ones and believe he was Superman. It was his imagination that inspired me to write about my Wonder Woman panties. (thanks, bro!)

He was a huge fan of Star Wars, Buck Rodger in the 21st Century, and Battlestar Galactica (the original series), and he got all kinds of cool toys. We should have kept them- they are collector's items now. It also gave him the nickname "Buck Rodgers" from Uncle Pat. I  laughed every time he said it.(my sister and I modified it to 'Buck Toad' to fit in with the toilet bowl thing).

In the summertime, our big black lab Liza would pull him around on the inner tube while he held her tail. They both had a blast.

Mom hated cutting his hair and I was a cosmetology student by the time he was nine, so I remember cutting his hair quite a bit. He would pull the "you're cutting my ear" crap with me as little boys do, and I got pissed at him and shaved his head. Dad got a little miffed. That is until ALL the boys in grade school wanted the same haircut as Cody. (Not sure if all the other moms thought that was cool but oh well..)

I had been in and out of the military during his teen years, and when I was home on leave I drove him from Drewsey (home) to where mom lived at the time (Creswell), which is pretty much a cross-state drive. We would tell funny stories, act weird and laugh about all kinds of things. We made up an alphabet that made me laugh so hard I almost wrecked the car. (we never told mom- that would have ended the fun right then!)
I can't really reproduce any of it here because it was NOT G-rated. Or even PG-13.
I might not have been the best influence on him, but I was me, and one thing Cody is, is himself.
And that is a good thing.
He gave ten years of his life to the US Army, and finished up as a Staff Seargent. He survived our father's tragic death, a bad divorce, and his dream career crashing down with the economy. I'm proud to say he turned out alright. Even with my help.

He is now living the good life in Harney county, with a wonderful fiancee`.

But he will always be my widdle baby brudder.
Happy Birthday, Cody. I love you. "You done good."

murphy wins

It is now 6:31am.


I was up at 5:38am


Why so early? 


You know when you're half asleep and you hear it start to rain and think     "Ahh... OH CRAP!! The windows are down in my car!!" and you shoot out of bed, trip, bang your bad knee (of course) stub your toe, and by that time the momentum of launching your carcass in one direction just does NOT want to stop?
Oh and don't forget to add bonking your head, slipping across wet grass in flip-flops, tripping over a hose out of said flip-flops into doggie poo. 
I do believe I need Bailey's in my cheap-ass coffee this morning. 


Please don't tell me I should go back to bed. I'm spun up like a pump-top whirlygig. I bet I knit on high speed with this kind of adrenaline rush. (I'd probably growl and snap at you too. let's not let this affect our relationship, shall we?)


It looks to me like a good day to watch the original Star Wars trilogy and eat junk food.


Have a peaceful Sunday.

Observation

It's been pretty hot around here, and it almost heated out my sense of humor for a day or two.

I was thinking about it on the way to work this morning, and realized my drive to work can be quite entertaining every couple of miles or so.

It take about 18 minutes to get to work these days. Not so before this school year. My daycare lady lived about 20 minutes off my driveline, so I always left home an hour before I had to clock in. ( this is one little shred of relief I get from my son being in kindergarten ;).

Over the last few years, I have seen lots of funny situations on my morning commute. Some of the most noteable:

"On the way to work this morning, I followed an Audi, Mercedes and a new Mustang. I felt pretty cool. On the way home though,  I followed "Rusty" , "Smokey", "Needs pushed off a cliff" and "Mater". I didn't feel quite the same."

"Dudes. On the way home down Main street in Springfield. I noticed a really pretty lady walking down the street. I could only see her backside. She sported new jeans, bleach-blonde hair, and those cool boots I'm jealous that my cankles won't let me wear. As we passed her- I about wrecked the car. Her teeth were gone, face shredded from picking at it, and horribly anorexic. I wanted to wash my eyes with bleach!" Nope, I'm not so jealous of the boots anymore either.."

"Folks, the Roadkill Grill is now open for business! This morning's special: Log truck-tenderized Venison, seasoned with fresh-laid asphalt. Hurry! This deal ends by noon. Then the buzzards get it! "

This morning as I passed through northeast Springfield, I observed that the 'walkers' were out early. (beating the looming heat wave of the afternoon, was my best guess). I always get a kick out of the latest "walker fashion".   Jim-Bob and Bobby-Jack were sporting their cargo shorts, white calf socks, new tennyrunners and matching camo hats and mustaches. "Flo", who I see almost every morning, has her hair, makeup and perfectly matched jeans and jacket when she's out strolling.

 The ones that make me smile are the obvious beginners. You've seen them. Little paunchy, mouth wide open, all 'serious' in the brow. I'm glad they are going for a more healthy lifestyle, but some of them should at least look in the mirror before they exit. Those tighty-whites would look better if they really were.. uh.. white? And yes, you can see their tighty-whites because..well I can't come up with an explanation for that. Maybe the missus 'misjudged' the size. Who knows?

What I like most about my drive is the first 10 miles are just country. I can listen to music, think about things, and mentally 'get ready' for my day. (Believe me, it's necessary in my line of work). Then it's mostly residential/school driving. I don't have much to complain about. But I always, always, always see something that makes me glad my life is what it is.

Have a good day at work, wherever you are. And don't forget to look around on the way home! Tell me all about it. I'd love to hear your stories!

Posse

I'd like you to meet my cast of characters. They are quite a diverse lot, and you should be glad I took the time to track them down in the midst of their busy days to get a quick snapshot. You can ask for autographs or souvenirs, but that might get messy. 

To start off:

This is the Old Man. He's been here since before we were. He's a short, wide Banty, sporting wizzened feathers and a cool disposition. The younger boys don't mess with him. He always has a girl or two around. Kinda like Hugh Hefner. 

You will get a kick out of these two. The story goes- My sister ( a Vet as you all are aware) gets paid in 'animal money' now and then. She just couldn't resist these two. Oops and Dammit got their names when Marea said, "Oops, there's a rooster. Dammit, there's another rooster".  

Oops and Dammit not only look horrid in these photos, but they look like that all the time. They are what my sister calls, "Frizzles", which is a genetic thing that causes their feathers to curl. (Humans have the same thing. Only I think it's called 'fro'). They are hysterical to watch, especially when they are chasing the hens. ("Go Dammit, git-er-done, boy!"  might be heard every now and then, and you will know what is happening). 

  

And my boy, Stalker McGee. What a sight. Tall, golden, Youthful. He and the Party girls usually hang out together. He's like Hulk Hogan was before he made that stupid movie. He can make it across the yard to do his business with the hens in 0.6 seconds. Zzzzzooom! Shazam! Done!. He's the only rooster that will eat out of my hand. He does get a little cocky once in a while and Old Man reminds him who the 'Real' boss is.

And here are the "Party Girls". These chicks have been independent little cusses since they chipped out of their shells. There are six.  There should have been five, but thanks to the Chicken Patrol...(okay I'll stop). But still! The one that hatched those little buggers I saved the other day still hasn't taken the time to thank me.

  

Here she is folks. The Trampycat. Jezebell. Mouser extraordinairre. Gutter goo cleaner. Don't let that cute bell fool you. That's the last thing her prey hears before they die. "What the- "tinkle-tinkle" - CRUNCH." I just hope she doesn't start bringing home snakes. *shudder*

Here is Joe and Sadie's kitten, Jefe'. (Pronounced Hefay). Jefe is the most talkative kitten I've ever met. And the most likely to get stuck on the roof, in the trees, under the trailer, on the fence. Of course. He's the boy. And he's neutered. Hm... maybe the brains really are in the ..nevermind.

Nook. I am still not sure why she got that name. But this cat has been nothing like the other two. Nook is sleek and stretchy. I have picked  her up a few times and thought I had a hold of a hairy snake. When the others are sleeping, she is playing. And vice versa. She wants to eat or 'come in' or 'go out' on the opposite schedule of the other cats. Just like her owner, Emily, waltzing to her own tune.

Ah, Luigi. What's not to love about an old horny goat? I have a list. You people owe me big time because getting this close to that goat was "gag me" material. I gargled my nose out and still can't shake it. Gah!

Okay, so he is sorta cute. Long beard, smelly, sad eyes, and he sings! OH. MY. GOD. It's Gordon Lightfoot! Actually he kinda looks like Bing Crosby in this photo. I say forget Italian and go French. Pepe' Le Stench might fit better. 

Well? What do you think? Ready for some more stories? Me too! All I have to do is watch these guys. 

sometimes you just have to go with it

My trampycat Jezebell is a wonder in her own right.

I rescued this cat from the neighbor of my daycare lady's. Jezzy was pretty much a young lady when I got her. Black and white, golden eyes, very girly looking. She loves to 'come in'. And she loves to 'go out'.  She got the name Jezebell because she was in heat from the moment I brought her home. My Veterinarian sister and I couldn't coordinate a time to get her 'fixed' fast enough, and BAM. Four kittens (well three after the first week- one died as a result of being moved too many times. Mom couldn't make up her mind).

We like her even though she can be really annoying. I want in, I want out. blah blah blah. Make up your mind please, cat. I think anyone with a cat understands. We still have two kids left, Jefe' and Nook (my daughters have claimed them as theirs) and they've made friend with the barn cats, all is in balance. For the most part.

My trampycat is a freak of nature. I swear.

Oh sure, she catches mice, brings them in for me to see, purr-rows all over how proud she is.

But- (here's where it gets good)

She's a gutter kitty. Literally.

Get this- So  I have been finding  blackish-green goey strips of greeny gooey stuff. I initially thought it was the buildup of grass off the lawnmower blade, and one of the dogs was dragging it around for chewy-toy doggie fun.

Not so.

Nosirree. Mom and I are chatting outside yesterday morning and I had just mentioning the previous observation, and we both see Jezebell on the roof of the barn. The cat is walking along the edge of the roof, eyeballing the gutter. Mom and I watch, with the classic "what the hell?" looks on our faces, as we witness this cat going into the gutter, sticking her head in the gutter, and peeling out a long, blackish-green strip of blackish green goeyness. She drags it out, and purr-row?-ing like she just caught the monster of all mouses.
I look at mom. She looks at me. We both start laughing.

Gutter cat. My trampycat has downgraded to gutter kitty. OH the shame.

Orange and Grey

It is my sad duty to report a loss here at the old XY.

Yesterday morning I found young Fowler floating in Joe's 'pool' (a fiberglass puzzle-pieced shape pond that isn't put to use yet). Poor little guy. His mother, one of the 'party girls' is managing her loss quite well by focusing on the other four "Party Fowls" (baha!) she is responsible for. We will carry on.

(The question remains, though. Why the hell did it want to drink out of the pool when there is a giant, new 5-gallon watering jug in the pen? Some mysteries are not meant to be solved, alas.)

This morning, I was outside taking in the sunrise with some coffee, wrinkling up my nose at Luigi's nasty stench (The billy goat) that covers the grass like so much GB Serin gas, I see the four little orange feather balls out of the pen, blissfully combing the north side of the yard for bug breakfast. Little buggers, (get it? haha!) they keep getting away from mom, I mused. Then. I see a big grey thing out of the corner of my eye. Cat. Big cat. Big grey cat I don't recognize. Slowly following orange feathers. Biding its time like a cheetah after gazelle. Damn thing.

It hasn't seen me yet, so I sneak along the grapevines, my pajamas getting wet from the early morning dew (insert cool Mission Impossible theme music here) and stealth myself around the dog kennel. (there's a lot of me to 'stealth' around in. It was hard work.) I wait. Grey cat is still not seeing me (I know! I thought that was weird too. Stupid cat). I jump out at it from behind- it's about 20' from me, "RAGH!" "SSSSSSTT!!" I yell.

Cat got OWNED. It jumped about a foot doing that cool mid-air spin and took off like a drag racer. I laughed a hearty pirate laugh, filled with self-satisfaction. Stupid cat. I go let the rest of the chickens out so mom can catch up with orange feathered pain-in-the-butts.

Yet another chapter in my saga of the heroic Chicken Safety Patrol. This time turned out better though, because last time I saved one of those damned chickens (which, oddly enough- happened to be one of those Party Girls) I blew my ACL out. Huh? Huh? You seeing a pattern here?

Oh it gets better too. but you have to come back tomorrow.

he's moving in

Folks, I'd like you to meet my new date. His name is Motivation.
 (Ha! You thought.. hahahahaha!)  Not yet anyway..

Motivation has been in and out of my life for the past few years, but mostly out since I had to downsize my life to a Pearl-sized form of living. (Pearl is my Redneck condo, a 32'x8' RV. Keep up please- otherwise go back to the very beginning of this blog here.)

Anyhoo. After blowing out my ACL last summer, Motivation moved out pretty much permanently and Procrastination and Downward Spiral parked on the couch with chips and beer. I had made several attempts to get them out of this place because there really is no room for it, and college classes don't get along well with those two lazy jerks. I think Depression may have twittered about me a time or two also. Hate that guy. I was having a hard time.

No, it took much more than that. 45th birthday loomed in the future, along with being the largest person at a wedding, not to mention the thought of not being in 'hiring shape' after I get my Bachelor's degree is what really did it. (I don't care what you say, if you don't look good outside, you won't get a better job during a career change at 45).

Call it Midlife Crisis if you want. I don't care. I just know that- thanks to my friends and local moms, we finished our first week of "Bootcamp", an intense workout that is pretty much like I remembered Boot Camp to be. (Except our trainer was a little more.. 'nice' shall we say? ;)

We all made it, nobody quit, and even though I can barely move my arms to type this posting, I feel like a zillion dollars. Ready for week two, and after that, I'm going to attempt P90X. Motivation and I are getting into a serious relationship. It's also spilling over into other aspects of my life as well, because Organization is coming by more often as well as Creativity and Time Management. So glad to see those guys around. We do coffee a lot.

It's a start, I have a long way to go, but hey- moving in the right direction sure helps.

the real deal

Ever wonder where Hollywood gets those awesome and amazing animal sounds for movies like Jurassic Park or Avatar? I have found the answer to the mystery.

Horny Goats.

I have the rare living situation where my home is on wheels while I finish college. (hence the name 'Pearl', because I get tired of long drawn out explanations of my circumstances).

 I have access to 50 acres of sights, smells and sounds that not everyone has the unique opportunity to experience.
Up to last night, a lot of said sights, smells and sounds have been ... reasons to stuff cotton in my ears to say the least. Dogs bark, roosters crow, ducks splash, coyotes howl, Log trucks Jake-brake, etc... (Pearl has thin walls).

Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'd MUCH rather hear those sounds than the ones I heard while living in a sliver of a two-bedroom apartment. I'd have to explain the 'newlywed' sounds to my girls as 'wrestling' coming from one side, and the other was more like something out of a Conan movie on the other side. I would tell my co-workers I'd hear fighting on one side and "wrestling" on the other. Not good.

So, the economy has effected everyone, that goes without saying, and Mom, sis and I are all doing our best to try and make a go of things in our own special ways so we don't end up living in a tent somewhere, (worse yet-back in those sucktacular apartments). Mom works, My sister works as much as she can, I work, go to school, make stuff, write, etc.

One result of the economy was that mom and sis acquired some Boer goats from a family who had to downsize their lives. I felt proud of the fact we can accommodate that. My sister is a Veterinarian (and a damn good one) and animals live quite well around here.

So these goats? hilarious. I love to watch them off my porch while they munch Hawthorne branches on their hind legs. Goats are just cool animals to have around.

Last night, my sister comes home with a Billy goat. ( that is a boy that still has his 'parts' for you city folk). I walked up to have a look at him, because he is quite .. majestic. My sister says "he is in full rut" about the time the smell about knocked me on my ass. Whoarf! Dudes. Wow. I can't even compare it. Sort of a cross between Pine Sol and Musk. My closest comparison would be that time waaaay back when a family from back home had a pet Antelope (a boy of course) and I walked up to him all stupid "Oh look at the cuteypie antelopeypoo!" and scratched him under his adorable widdle chin- which happened to be right on his SCENT glands- and my hands stunk for a full month. (you hunters might even know what I'm talking about).

Anyway, Sis says, "The owners say he makes the weirdest noises". I wondered at that because as soon as we put him in with the ladies, he was chasing and peeing and had his tongue out. Looked like a night at one of the bars I hung out in back in the military. No noises though. Not until 3 O'clock this morning anyway.

3am is the Magic Quiet Hour around here. Little or no traffic, and most of the flora and fauna are asleep, or at least quiet. Hoo hoo. NOT this morning.  I can only describe the 'sound' as a 'Twilight Zone' moment where I thought I woke up in the hunting territory of Velociraptor in a Jurassic Park movie. You know how Tibetan monks can sing deep and high at the same time? Yeah. Billy was all a hootin' and singin'. It took me a while to narrow it down, because it did -at first sound like a cat that had been run over and was in the throes of death.

 I went out to investigate, and I barely got within 50 feet of the fence and got Sham-wowzered by Horny Goat Smell. Gah!! I could see him in the moonlight, making this noise that has no definition.. ( I even googled "goat sex"- not a good thing to do. don't let your kids put those two words together. Ever). He's chasing the ladies around at 3 in the morning, letting the whole world know he's ready for a go. I couldn't stop myself. I started laughing, and laughing, and then I had to come here and tell you all about it. I just wish I could record that damned sound. It was almost- but not quite- like the "horses" from Avatar. I still need to watch the movie again to make sure. But I will not get up every morning and try to acquire it for you because that might just be considered as.. weird. Well, weird-er..

Cabbages are people too (sort of)

I took a whole day off from everything yesterday. (Other than breathing and body functions).

 I pretended I was a cabbage. Green, unwashed and not able to move without help. I really tried to be a potato, but I didn't feel very brown-skinned and lumpy. Carrot? nah. Not an ounce of sweetness in me. I had a whole day of Nothing all to myself. Rebellious, I know. I was all Thelma and Louise about it. Defiant. I even refused to KNIT. ( I know!! my hands didn't fall off either. Who knew?)

It's been quite a while since I had a date with Nothing. I tend to refer nothing as a "him" because- well, there aren't too many moms like me who ever experience a true-to-life, literal park-your-ass-on -the-couch-and-not-move-unless-you-have-to-pee activity. I was able to do so with several "lucky" factors in my favor:
1) Emily had spent the night at her friend's.
2) Joe's cousin is here to entertain him, and I had stuff pre-made to eat.
3) Wondering about the 'green' in my first sentence? Yeah. I was a little hungover too. That gets to be another post.

I don't have television per se, like the 800 channels of reality shows so many of you may be addicted to. I just can't justify losing those hours boiling my brain on witnessing other people's nasty habits. I do have a DVD player that tried to help catch up on movies I bought and  borrowed and haven't had the chance to watch. Maybe I'll get the rest of the 80's and 90's movies caught up someday. (Lost all those years to the Military, College and having babies).

What's funny is, no matter how many movies I need to watch, there's always that 'fallback' movie that I have.  I'm talking about the one you watch because no matter what mood you are in, or how hungover/sick/sad/angry/tired you are, it is the one thing you can watch all the way though, and it takes you completely out of your reality for a couple of hours, and you return feeling...better. Simply that.

Nothing was kind to me yesterday. He let me put my feet up, sleep off 8 weeks of study stress (and one too many vodka/cranberry juices) and the hoarseness that only comes from Karaoke, fried food and sitting too close to smokers. A rare luxury, indeed.

Of course, no amount of having my feet above my heart will ever get rid of Guilt. That guy is like a stalker. He won't ever leave me alone. Worse- like John Nash's apparitions in "Beautiful Mind". Worse yet. That guy on "Sleeping with the Enemy" (eeeek!)

I ignored him (like only a mom can do) and let Nothing un-scramble my brain and remove neck knots from my muscles. Guilt was sitting in the chair at the computer, staring at me. Jerk. I need to find a way to "off" him.

probably where they'll bury me

Growing up in the largest county in the state sure had its unique experiences. One of my Facebook friends recently started a "you know you're from Harney County if.." and we all get to fill in the blank. And hooboy, has it gotten filled. I believe there has been an entry representing the last 60 years of county life and times. From the mature generations chiming in with memories of A&W, buildings that long since burned down and businesses that long since changed hands before I was born to more recent times after I left.

Seriously, there are only three areas that can even be called 'towns' in Harney County. Burns-Hines (okay it's four but come on, Burns and Hines are like connected by the High School.. let's not split hairs here), Drewsey, (my hometown) and Crane (location of the only public boarding school in the USA, I believe). We harbor a rich history of pioneering, Almost -extinct industries of Logging and ranching, and one of the longest-running rodeos in the state. (100 years as of 1989).

I'm proud to be a part of  it, and wish someday I could go back. There's not much along the line of jobs, unless I want to be a long haul truck driver, or win the lottery. I did get my degree in solid work ethics, resilience,  honesty, and having fun as much as possible without the use of electronics.

So, for those of you who are country kids, I hope you try to instill a bit of that in your kids and grandkids. For you city folks, remember to always keep it simple. Life is too short to drag around all sorts of clutter.

Here's to simple living and small town life. May it never die.

Big Brother

My new weight loss-o-meter is a precarious little "app" (short for application- a computer term) called 'Noom'.

Noom lives on my Android. I refer to it as 'him' because it's a little green dude with blue pants that are too big.

(This really isn't an ad for Noom. I just need to tell you how crazy this has become- it's funny, just keep reading)

I have to tell him everything I eat, and all my exercise. And I have to tell him how much I weigh every week. (Thursdays, generally.) I've been Noom's best friend for just a few weeks. I've lost almost 5 pounds so far. (with an Oprah Radio Flyer load to go.)

Noom can be annoying, because there is no such thing as "dump run from hell" or "chasing loose goats" on the exercise list.( I think we should have a country version of Noom. We'd call it "Vern". Vern would have everything from  'crawling under the trailer to find the source of that smell' to 'hangover trips to the bathroom'.)

I really can't remember when I made 'the crossing', but if I don't look at Noom every 5.24 minutes, I start to gain weight. I tell it everything. Every move I make. Every little crumb of food that enters my pie hole. My phone gets more than three feet away from me and I start to bloat. I just know it can hear me- it buzzes when I open the fridge.

It's like having an annoying little  brother that you can't get rid of because he caught you reading your dad's Playboy magazines and he will rat you out unless you do EVERYTHING he says for the rest of your life.

When I go on my walks at the track with my friends, Noom only tracks MY steps. (GPS- cool, yet scary.)  He even knows how crooked I walk. I keep looking up and wondering if he is tracking my menstrual cycles and fart patterns. Maybe I'm typing this under his control.. MAYBE that's where those crazy dreams come in where I'm rich and pretty and Noom is really my cabana boy putting 'mainstreamer' pills in my Umbrella drinks..

Nope. It's still me. No zombie here. I still have a Statistics final next week. Damn. Where's the cool movie plot that kicks in about now? sigh..back to the homework.

Oh hell- I better check Noom/Vern too. He might get jealous of the blog...

Who needs Wal-Mars?

Just when I thought I was going to have a difficult time coming up with a good post, my daughter Emily and I were tasked to make a dump run. Want to hear how a one-hour trip turned into three? Here's how it went down: (deep breath)

All was well, another day in paradise at the old XY ranch. Em and I are loading the garbage cans, gagging at maggots and other fancy garbage smells, getting the recycling sorted.Then, here come the 'little red flags" that always seem to happen around here:

1) Low tire on the REALLY full dump trailer with heavy construction waste.

2) Obviously the dump trailer hasn't been used much. Hooking the thing up= three-day constipation poop: Rusty, stuck and hard.

3) An amazing amount of Yellowjacket nests were discovered living in the tool box at the front of the trailer. (Don't ask how we found out.)

4) Emily gags at the smells pretty much the entire trip. Entertaining! ( for me- muwahahahaha!)

5) I got slogged with laundry soap during lid removal at the recycle station- I smelled like April fresh rotten eggs by then. (Bet that scent won't sell anytime soon.)

6) At the paystation, the pickup wouldn't start. (The starter is going out-SO glad somebody warned me.)
 By this time, I'm sweating, the crotch of my work jeans are ripping, and I'm really trying hard to not throw things at the superawful nice lady, offering endless and wonderfully nice suggestions as to how to get it started. I ground a few millimeters of enamel off my teeth, hissed a few choice colorful metaphors, and we were back in business.. sort of..

7) Emily and I are 'cheerfully' unloading the trailer- suddenly we stare at each other in HORROR as the end of the trailer we're standing on slowly sinks to the ground- (yep- hitch was TOO SMALL.) We hooked it back up and attempted to finish unloading the trailer as fast as we could- I get hyperfocused on the little stuff and it unhooks AGAIN. (My. Dear. Hell.)
 By this time, I'm waiting for the superawfully nice dump lady to not be so superawfully nice. We hook it back up again, I bungee the #$%^@#$ to the chains, and hope to Haysoos that it doesn't unhook on the 5 mile drive back to the ranch.

8) We make it home. (whew) I back it up, park, and attempt to unhook the chains from the truck. Nope. Won't budge. I shut off the engine and storm away. I'm done.

Total calories burned: 668. Blood pressure: Through the roof. I tried to find a match on my weight loss-o-meter and the closest thing I could find was 'yardwork'. Last straw *snap*

If you need me, I'm under Pearl, knitting hayblankets and chewing leather.

Time Warp

I most sincerely apologize.

I got lost somewhere back in May. I only recently was found here in July.

I was buried. In a pile of schoolwork and knitting and sewing projects.

I was saved by something called, "Time Management". Only just beginning, I was able to dig myself out of my would-be grave. So far I'm back down to my armpits.

Here are a few photos of things I've been doing:

Taking pictures of my daughter, Emily and her new found talent of sewing.

My sister and her favorite toys. John Deere Tractor and Baler. 

A rather telling self-portrait of me and the class that's killing me.

 Again, here is Emily playing Model for me. I made the dress and she just walked around while I snapped pictures. You can see the full shoot at Flickr.com and find me under Desert Flower66.

A sort of "what did you do this summer" photo documentary for Emily. She got to paint the chicken house,

And learn how to mow the lawn.

Here's the hay crew. L-R: Mom, Joe, Tasha, Joanna, Dalton and Emily. Max is supervising. Dogs are good at that job. 

Me, the documentarist of daily life here in Western Oregon, in between rainstorms. 

Other than that, my friends, it is just school work and kids and life. I'm working on a ballroom dress for a friend and believe me. It's a winner of a dress pattern. Boning, foundations, ruffles. hard-to-mess-with fabric (Georgette), and lots and lots of creative language while trying to follow a Vogue Pattern direction panel. 

I'll be posting photos of the progress on the dress soon. Until then, stay cool and enjoy the summer!

three days of spring

Economics has overtaken my life. SO much to learn and I have SO much to do. It is interesting, really to learn how this country works. Economics is soo closely tied to politics. More than I cared to learn about, but, well, there it is.

Spring has decided to show up here in western Oregon. The Rhododendrons and Azaleas are blooming with a rich ferocity. It's good to see the birds back again, fighting over who is 'king of the feeder'. We don't have to worry much about squirrels, the dogs keep most varmints away.

My TrampyCat, Jezebell, had kittens on Friday the 13th. Four little black potatoes. So cute, yet I am not sure of the significance of all that. Or is there one? After all the hype over the 'Rapture'... sigh. Moving on.

This is my oldest daughter. It was her sophomore prom. She picked out the dress and her Great-Grandmother lent her the bracelet and necklace. I think she looked wonderful. Such a smart kid too. Keep an eye on this one. She's going to rock the world. 

 

My son is going to start Kindergarten this fall. We went to the "Kindergarten Round-up" to give him a taste of what it will be like. Plus all the paperwork I had to do.. He seems to feel pretty comfortable with it. I'm pretty blessed to have a son like him. 

I got a hat order from a customer in Dublin, Ireland from my other blog (http://1000hatproject.blogspot.com) and he was interested in colors so I created this photo. Fun! Plus I am totally stoked about sending something I made to another country. How totally cool is that!!

                                            The Rhodies at my uncle's place are soo pretty!

   These trees are in the parking lot at Jerry's, a locally owned home improvement center. Love it!

Jerry's had a whole line of these awesome marigolds. I wish I could have bought all of them. Love the color! I took a bunch of photos and played around with the editing on Picknik, a great online site for photo editing. 

I now carry a camera and knitting with me everywhere I go. You would not believe how often I get the opportunity to work on either. For us hobbyists, it really is how you get the moment caught, or projects finished. You never know when the perfect time is right in front of you.

Back to the Books. Economics...supply and demand curves.. global trading... mumble mumble..

road trip treasures

I was headed home from Albany after taking an test for my Anthropology class, and decided to see if the new (ish..it's been open a while but new enough nonetheless) yarn shop in Brownsville was open. I had been messaging a fellow Raveler about it on our Oregon knitting group and really wanted to check it out.

Friends, I introduce you to: The Brownsville Stitching Parlor.

 The Proprietor, Jamie Kampfer, is on the left, showing a nice lady a new technique at the lesson table.

                          One of the displays featuring beautiful hand made clothes for dolls.

               The floor loom for teaching. The weaving hanging on the edge were wonderful!

There is a local sheep owner whose rovings you see.Classes are held to learn to spin and weave.

                         An overall view of the shop. Jamie has a wide array of brand names. 

\

Outside the front door. It is a very old Pioneer town, and the building has been wonderfully preserved.

The shop is located in this building.

you can reach Jamie online at;

stitchparlor@peak.org

541-466-3660

Hours are Tues-Fri 10am-5pm

Saturday 11am-4pm

I can't wait to go back! Brownsville is less than 30 miles away. 

Happy stitching!

Catching my breath

It seems the time between posts keeps getting longer. Sundays come around, and instead of  happily blogging, and playing around on Flickr, I am hunched over the keyboard, a book and a calculator, fiercely learning the ins and outs of Economics. (in the long run, that will probably pay better than this blog.. sigh).

Time management has been my challenge pretty much my whole life. Online classes make it even more challenging. I try to balance homework time with days I work, and so far it's a bumpy road traveled.
I have been crocheting as well as knitting. My cousin is due this month with baby #2, (a boy) and asked me to make hats and blankets for both children.

Here is what resulted:

Bernat Baby in blue and white. Ripple stitch pattern from 101 Ripple stitch patterns.

Vanna' choice yarn with scrap yarn for the flower.

Vanna's Choice yarn in pink and chocolate.

Frank, showing us the baby hat.

I enjoyed the knitted hat because I was using Debbie Bliss's Baby Cashmerino. SO soft! I wanted that yarn all to myself! I could knit a pillow out of it and sleep with it every night. Ahh...

The Crocheted items are always fun to make. I like crocheting blankets and afghans because they work up so much faster than knitting. I have knit an afghan before, a large modified 'feather and fan', but. Wow. I whittled away at at that thing for years, it seemed like.

In addition, I finished these in time for Easter for Emily:

Sadie modeling her sister's socks

These were a breeze to knit. Italian wool, soft and baby-ish. I used my Generic sock pattern. I am in the Self-imposed Sock club on Ravelry, and haven't been keeping up. This is my attempt to remedy that. 

I can not stop knitting. It keeps me sane. If I had to choose between coffee and knitting, or beer and knitting, I would dump the coffee and give away the beer. Knitting makes everything alright again. Always.

Back to Economics and the phenomenon called, "elasticity"..

my new obsession

Knitting has been and always will be my obsession. I should define that better. Passion. I am passionate about knitting. It keeps me calm, and focused, sort of like Yoga for the brain.

Photography is quickly catching up to the knitting though. Not only am I trying to get creative with the photos I snap of projects, I carry my little camera around right along with my knitting. I even went as far as stopping in the emergency median on a road trip recently to take photos of some cool stuff on the railroad tracks. (I plan the road trips to allow for time to stop and take pics, too!)

The cool thing is that both are quite portable, and one inspires the other. My rooster is wonderful shades of amber and if I ever run across a  yarn that comes close, I will knit something and it will remind me of him long after he is gone.

 A few recent ones: (click on them- you'll get a larger version. I promise!)

OMG the sun is out! I'm going out to take more photos. Might even knit some more today too..

Turn the page

Oregon State University!

That sounds soo.. intelligent to me. I actually feel intelligent. Even when I do dorky, stupid things like "put something away" and cannot find it until I re-organize several months later, or fail to remember what I was going to my bedroom for. ( I call that "mom syndrome").

I start full-time tomorrow. Tomorrow! that sure flew up my skirt faster than I thought it would. I'm totally ready to get my goals started, finished and off to a new career that pays. Well. With benefits. And things like "my own house" and "my own driveway" and "semi-financial independence" and "kids college funds". Things like that.

Until then, I will be toiling away, neck deep in books, fighting for survival. Thank GOD for knitting. In the grand scheme of things, yarn is more satisfying than any $300/hr therapist. ( not that I need one, just sayin')

I finally got to a pair of socks that needed to be worked up a long time ago.

I had some leftover sock yarn and combined them to make a pair for Joe. Added to the Christmas box.

Have a great Sunday. I'm off to read other blogs I enjoy. (There a quite a few)

tech writing is evil

Wowzers. I have been working on a final for my Tech Writing class and it is taking forEVer.
I write and write and write and write. Then I look at the word count "445" WTH!


     My son was watching "UP" and I could hear Kevin whining about pulling that house around with Mr. Fredrickson and decided to offer up my version:


‎*whiney voice* It's like a gangliojillion words long and my eyes hurt and my elbow hurts and I hate fonts and formatting and Times New Roman for the rest of my life and I will never be a tech writer unless the deepest circle of hell freezes over and OMG don't EVEN get me started with cut/paste bullshit...*whiney voice off* 


Did I say this was taking epic time status? mumblebacktostupidreportmumble..


But, you evil tech report, I have the upper hand, oh yes! I have a sock sitting right next to me at the computer desk that I can escape to and knit a few rounds and process what I am going to say next. I even ran away to my blog to enter this post. HA! You will NOT defeat me, evil tech report! I will triumph in the end, Yarrr!


Sigh. Now I have to get back to that endless, dreary, mind numbing, format helling, I-want-to-kill-something tech report... sigh.


Everyone ELSE gets to have a  great day. 

change is good. sometimes.

Well. How about that?
I'm tlot-tlot-tlotting along in the game of life, thinking all is well. I got registered at Oregon State University for Spring term. (yay!)  Ready to cut back hours at work. (yay!) Getting a decent tax return so as to pay off a few looming bills- including the car. (BIG yay!)
Then...
   Good old Fate comes at me from her toes with a left hook, blindsiding me. I was bracing myself, but still, one is never totally ready for a left hook from Fate. I don't care who you are.

My wonderful little boy has Asperger's syndrome.

The insecure me pretty much fell apart for a few days (ya think!?!). I got on the pity pot and sat. What could I have done different? was it me? It's all my fault. His dad was such a jerk. yaddah yaddah...
Then the tough me: "WTF!! This has to be somebody's fault! NOT mine! God, you are mean!" blah blah blah...

Then I did some research. I found a support group. I think I can handle it. I hope I can handle it. I am a mother after all. And a knitter. I love that little guy  like there's no tomorrow. I want to be everything he needs, because I'm all he has.

I remember a great quote from the movie "Duma".

 "Change happens. That's the way it is all the time. The little boy that is with me now is not the same little boy that left home. See? Change."  ~Ribcuna

                                                  Hat #10 for the 1000 hat project.

                                        My new mitts. Actually yes, they are for me!
                                                           How cool is that!
                                                Soy/wool blend. Very soft and almost shiny.

                                                  
Even though I know I will have my weak moments ( I am human after all- just don't tell anyone), I know everything will be alright. I have to believe that, no matter what the change.