It's a gopher! It's a car! It's — it's STUBBLEJUMPIN' GAL!

Homegrown Gal

2012-01-28T14:58:00.003-06:00

Listen to her music here.

Belle Plaine's first CD was released yesterday.

Melanie Hankewich grew up near Fosston (about a half-hour north of here) and performed for a house concert in Wadena last year. Shadow House Concerts had secured the Good Luck Diner for a venue, and a few music lovers managed to squeeze in around Melanie's local family and friends who'd driven down for the evening's entertainment. Her bass player and a piano man accompanied her, and they too have connections in the area, so the place was packed.

We dined on delicacies smorgasbord-style, then tapped our toes while Melanie's sweet voice out-sugared the dessert.

http://www.belleplainemusic.com/

Music-loving Bird

2012-01-27T11:18:00.000-06:00

If you're not a bluegrass fan (what's the matter with you?), stick it out anyway till around the three-minute mark for proof of my theory that birds appreciate our music as much as we love theirs.

Thanks to Marilyn at Nag on the Lake for bringing this video to my attention.

College Boy

2012-01-26T11:26:00.000-06:00

Email from Gord, Everett's dad:
College Boy; see attached.

Return email:
Awwwww... he's so cute....
first haircut since August?
K.

Email from Gord:
Well about a week ago he cut his own hair . Looked like a total doufus. I should've taken a picture . You would have died laughing. So when I suggested to take him for a cut today there was no hesitation. Shoes and coat on in record time.

Email from Everett:
You asked about my classes a while ago, so here is me finally giving you a list of what I'm taking this semester.

Video Production Techniques
Cinematography
Visual Design Development
Audio Production Technology
Organizational Behaviour
Production Planning Process

Six classes. That is three less than I started off with in the first semester. It's going fine for the moment. Sorry I was late telling you about it, but I have work to do in between leisurely activities. Er, I mean, I have fun things to do in between doing work. Yeah, that's it.

-Everett-

Canine Courtship

2012-01-25T21:57:00.000-06:00

Loverboy wears his courtin' coat

Jenna Doodle, 10 years old, not spayed, has never had pups or been pregnant, and appears to be in heat again. Let us hope she continues to remain infertile and that, in the event of a miracle, no male dogs wander over; pups, we don't need.

Ducky Doodle, who has been neutered, is serious about making whoopee with her anyway. He is keeping a close eye on her and currying her favour. Nothing can come of it, thank dog.

The photo above was taken several days ago, when the mercury was very low, maybe 30 below. Ducky was cold but didn't want to go inside.

Then yesterday I donned my ski pants, balaclava and layers of warm clothing, as I'd been doing for the past week, and set out down the road. Before I'd gone 10 minutes it was necessary to whip off the balaclava, unzip the jacket and remove my mitts. It's like spring. There's been rain.

Giving Thanks

2012-01-24T10:16:00.000-06:00

An uplifting music video by Tamara Podemski, the younger sister of Canadian actor Jennifer Podemski, whose blog is here. Jennifer appears in Sarah Polley's recent film Take This Waltz and has been in all kinds of stuff. Remember her in Moccasin Flats and The Rez?

103-yr-old Lady and Bold Fox

2012-01-23T13:34:00.000-06:00

103 candles would've set off the smoke alarm

After a nice visit and potluck supper at Scott's grandmother's with his immediate family, we swung back to Wadena to take Emil to the group home for his week's work. While passing the Co-op service station on the busiest corner in town, Scott spotted a red fox between the gas pumps and the front doors; it was stood looking through the glass at the people inside. Because of the darkness and distance I was unable to get a decent photo, but we did drive closer and watch it eat something it found in the parking lot next to the building before our approach finally scared it off.

It's not that unusual to see wild animals in town; we hear reports of deer and coyotes, and Emil and I were once close up to a moose (man they've got long legs!). But this little guy's moxie was a bit unnerving, mostly because rabid animals are brave this way, thus possibly dangerous.

Whipped Shortbread

2012-01-22T16:06:00.000-06:00

Before

Yesterday I made a batch of whole wheat cake doughnuts. Not many left, as you can see. I had two for breakfast, with my coffee. They're 75% healthy, if you don't count the oil they were fried in. Right? Oh, all right, but once in a blue moon ... anything's allowed.

Scott is going to see his friend Floyd tomorrow. Floyd lives in a nursing home in Yorkton; they've been buddies since their high school days. Last time I took whipped shortbread to Floyd, he said they were "the best thing I've tasted in my life." That was a few years ago, when he still lived in Wadena.

I make them small, a scant teaspoonful of dough, so you can pop them in your mouth and there won't be another crumbly half to make a mess. Also, Floyd has only one hand to use; not that it makes any difference I suppose. However, here's where I'm looking for ideas from all you experienced cooks out there. I'd like these cookies to look nice as well as melt in your mouth. Do you think a pastry cone would work? Would the dough be soft enough to go through it?

After

Books are Dangerous

2012-01-21T11:02:00.001-06:00

Another link from Everett, who says, "Ian's mom is a pretty great character. Don't you agree?"

Yes, I do agree. Mwa ha ha ha ha! POOF!

I have been watching these two characters, Anthony and Ian, fairly regularly since Everett discovered their little vignettes. It is one of the many sacrifices a mother must make to keep the lines of communication open with her teenagers. Sigh.

Is anyone else who knows my niece Danielle reminded of her when they see Anthony? I think it's his haircut; she has the same one.

Phone Calls

2012-01-20T11:59:00.001-06:00

Waves, frozen

We've got a friend we call Rick, and my sister Karen is married to a gentleman we call Dick. Both men's given names are actually Richard, and this has had Emil puzzled. It is plausible to him that Rick is derived from Richard, but Dick? That just didn't make sense, and I couldn't explain it to his satisfaction.

Emil phones me every night now for a chat.
"Did anyone come over today?"
No.
"Have you had any company this week?"
No.
"Rick and Faye came over to your place on Saturday."
That's right. They came for supper.
"Did you have a nice time when they came over?"
Yes, very.
"Rick's real name is Richard."
That's right.
"Dick is also a short form of Richard."
Mm hm; that's true.
Then he reels off the following, so fast the words run together:
"R-I-C-K spells Rick and that's a short form of Richard and you can just take the R away and put the D there and you have Dick, so that works! That's what Auntie Karen told me and she's right!"
He repeats this speedy spiel a couple times in spite of my acknowledgement and agreement, till finally I get exasperated and say I heard you the first three times!
He's coming out this weekend; Scott will pick him up when his working day near town is done. Emil is looking forward to the new Lorax movie that is being made. He still loves Dr Seuss.

Scott just phoned.
"Have you ever heard of blood oranges?"
I pause; the words "blood diamond" flash through my mind, but no. Why?
"I picked up oranges at the store and just opened one up; it's red inside."
We know nothing more but he says it tastes fine.
"Did Jenna go outside again?" he asks.
Jenna is our border collie/shepherd cross; she is 10 years old, and although she has long thick fur and an insulated doghouse with a flap of carpet over the door, we've invited her into the porch the last few nights because it's been so cold.
"The first thing she did when I let her out this morning was roll in the snow," he says.
For the past three days before rising (Scott gets up long before me and lets her out) she's sat on the south side of the house, howling.

This Balaclava Was Made for Walkin'

2012-01-19T12:48:00.000-06:00

My response to Sheena's balaclava photo on her blog

I'm not the only one out there in this weather; check out the Treaty Walks blog, where a Ft Qu'Appelle teacher is hoofin' it to school every morning: click here. Have a look at some of her "popular posts." Here's a good one. And here.

One of the hardest things about my walks was getting out there regularly in the first place; I'd always enjoyed walks, but only when I felt like it, and the walks were leisurely, not brisk, and there was no minimum time requirement. Now that I've got myself relatively disciplined — I'm going, and that's that for that — the hurdle du jour is that I sometimes get a bit bored while walking. My route varies between the same two every second day because I can turn either north or south at the end of the driveway; but one thing I don't like is going a mile, then re-tracing my steps. Wish I could go in a circle. But I'll have to walk through fields (hard on the ankles) or walk six miles, if I do. Not ready for that yet.

Thinkin' maybe an Mp3 player or iPod might be a nice change once in a while from my own thoughts.

When I get back into the house, there are a few moments of claustrophobia when I can't get all this extra clothing off fast enough.

What If?

2012-01-18T20:05:00.000-06:00

Yesterday the sky was blue at the beginning of my walk, and darkening by the time I got back to our yard.

Everyone's talking about the cold snap; finally we've got "real" winter, with 35-below on the thermometer and the weatherfolks on the radio saying "Feels like 45 below, with the wind chill. Exposed skin will freeze in five minutes."

I haven't found it so terrible as they're saying, though it's crisp all right. I walked my usual two miles yesterday, and cut it down to slightly more than a mile today because it was windier. Yesterday I walked backwards quite a ways to reduce the biting wind in my face. Balaclava or no, the air can still sting.

Scott and I went to a lunch seminar this week to get information about retirement investing. The presentation projected possible income over the long term; and of course it would be easy to make investment decisions if you knew when you were going to die. I thought, "How would I handle my money if I knew exactly how long I had to live? What if I could know that I had, say, only five years left? What would I do differently?"

It would be wise to ponder that question seriously and not let it go till I've answered it. More likely I'll forget about it in a day or two. What about you? Do you take stock of your life in a serious way or do such thoughts flit through your head for a short time and simply disappear?

Vintage Photo at Pavilion Beach

2012-01-17T14:02:00.000-06:00

From left to right: Julius Bohl, Elmer Braaten,Marion Otterdahl, Evelyn Bohl, Alvin Stenbeck, Laura Stenbeck, Edna Johnson,John Johnson.

What Joanne remembers and has told her daughter Tammy:

“This picture would have been taken in probably 1958 or thereabouts.It was taken at a lake, so probably was at the Pavilion Beach. Aunt Laura and EdnaJohnson had bathing suits on. My mom had her purse on her arm as always (like Sophiafrom the Golden Girls!). There would have been a wiener roast for supper."

Grandpa Otterdahl took the picture: Dad says that was probablythe day there is footage on my dad's home movies of Grandpa Bohl in my dad's boat. GrandpaBohl did not like water and he seems pretty stiff on the video!”

My grandparents are Edna and John, on the far right. I'm said to be Edna's spittin' image, and in this picture I can almost see it, except for her darker and hair. - K., a.k.a. Stubblejumpin' Gal

Thanks for posting the picture on your blog ..... You really are a lot like Edna...even moreso in your "ways " !!! Very special ladies .

Joanne

Joanne,

I don't have many memories of her since I was only 6 when she died, but of the few, there is one of her doing her hair while seated in front of one of those fancy little dressers with the mirrors that all the ladies had. Grandma's bedroom was in the middle of their house, which I still remember of course in a lot of detail, as I spent so many winter afternoons there, playing cards with Grandpa and drinking hot chocolate.

Looking forward to the next one,

Kathy

Men are from Sears: Women are from Bloomingdale's

2012-01-16T13:26:00.001-06:00

Paintings by Louise M., which I somehow did not save in a decent size.

Fantastic program today on Under the Influence; if you didn't catch this, I hope you get a chance to listen to it:

The item is called "Men are from Sears: Women are from Bloomingdale's."
Click below to go to the page; you can subscribe to the podcast free.

http://www.cbc.ca/undertheinfluence/season-1/2012/01/14/men-are-from-sears-women-are-from-bloomingdales/

Their entry into the subject is a description of the way shopping styles differ between men and women, but the show goes far beyond that into the ways men and women perceive and organize the world they live in. "When you take evolution into consideration, when you account for biology, and when you analyze those differences, it really does demystify the behaviour." It goes deeper than simply stereotyping gender behaviour; it digs into the territory of understanding, respecting and valuing it.

I cranked the radio up loud so it could easily be heard in every room of the house as I dusted, moved furniture, swept and tidied.

Cat on a Cold Shake Roof

2012-01-15T12:10:00.000-06:00

Yippee ... snow! NOW it looks like winter out there.

Stop My Waffling? I Think Not.

2012-01-14T15:11:00.002-06:00

It may be hard to believe that at my age and after many pancake breakfasts, this is the first waffle I've ever made. And well should you not believe it, because this is actually the second one. The first one went straight down my neck, slathered in Shelly's homemade apple jelly. And was it ever delicious; I'll be getting into the habit, even though they're more pain in the ass to make than flapjacks.

We are still basking in near-zero temperatures so, on days like today when there's no wind, my walk is perfectly pleasant (I must ask Yukon Pete how he keeps warm on a dogsled, assuming he's stationary there, in the North's deeper cold. Even wearing fur ... Perhaps there's less wind so it's not so bad?) and, if I didn't have things to do, I'd add another mile to the usual two.

But we're looking forward to friends coming for supper this evening, so I'm going to tidy up the hovel, beautify myself, and make squares: Helen's Pink Lady Dessert. Making these always reminds me of our good neighbours back when we lived in Legal, who treated us like family and became fast friends. I'll take a stroll down memory lane while measuring and mixing.

Poor old Scottie, today, is messing around with the sewer pump when he had hoped to be doing his part in the kitchen. I know, I know ... with a new septic tank installed just a couple months ago, all that crap is supposed to be over with ... oh well, at least he's not slipping and sliding along the edge of a lagoon, and it's not 30-below. Yet. We hear forecasts that it's coming this week.

If I'm lucky, it'll all work out in the end (oh my but the puns are flying fast and furious aren't they) and I'll be soaking in a tub of warm water while he's peeling potatoes and preparing his specialty: stuffed mushrooms. Fingers crossed.

The chicken's already roasting slowly and smells divine.

Go for a Walk

2012-01-13T16:31:00.002-06:00

Dim Bulbs

2012-01-08T12:04:00.000-06:00

Might just leave the Xmas lights up all year

We've got a lot to say, don't we? We say it with enthusiasm and conviction. Other people believe us, because we believe our own words. Often they don't give much thought to what we've said before they accept it as truth, and we too accept other people's versions of reality without any examination at all. We're a bunch of sheep who don't want to think too hard, and we make up our minds without digging up all the information needed to make a balanced and fair judgment.

There is no better example of this than the comments pages at the bottom of internet news stories. If you want to see how ignorant and uneducated your fellow citizens are, take a gander. You will be shocked at the low level of intelligence displayed there. I'm guessing that most people with brains don't bother leaving comments at these sites, or waste their time reading the comments.

"But we must have discussion and free speech!" the newspaper editors say, and they're right, we must. It's just that there is some discussion and free speech that lowers the level of exchange so far that it's not really discussion at all; it's no more than providing a forum for opinionated blowhards to spread their contempt and hatred for others. They're given a soapbox to stand on and wave their self-righteous know-it-all flags, when clearly they don't have a friggin' clue.

Many of my friends and family say I'm outspoken and direct, and to a point I am; I won't, to keep the peace, agree or go along with something I'm sure is wrong, and if you're obnoxiously out of line there is every possibility I will say so rather than keeping my mouth shut to avoid a confrontation. But not always; not anymore. I may think someone is a total twit, but don't necessarily feel any need to say so. I've come to believe "It's more important to be kind than to be right" and I'd rather feel sorry for a fool in private than correct him in public. The effort to assert my opinion isn't always worth it. More often than not, engaging with a jerk just opens you up to abuse, and who needs that? What is to be gained? I've learned to choose my battles in many ways, and not to waste my energy talking when others are not really listening and when it isn't going to make a damn bit of difference. Even when people bait me, as some have been known to do, I just don't bother. I let it slide. They're welcome to their beliefs and as long as I don't see anyone being hurt, I'll usually stay out of it.

In the past I've tried to make myself understood, even when it was unlikely a person would even hear what I was saying, let alone agree with me. I've begun to think that being understood is overrated, and that if I continue to care about being understood, I will continue to be disappointed. None of us can comprehend beyond our own open- or close-mindedness, our inability to face our shortcomings (fears, blindness and weaknesses) honestly, and our refusal to admit we don't know everything and that — gasp — we have not only been wrong, but we have acted like dickheads. (I cringe to recall times I have spoken or acted with self-righteous conviction without realizing there were other, better, wiser options.)

There are articulate people who can respond to an asshole in such a way that the logic of their reaction is unassailable. I wish I was one of those people, but I'm not. I don't think fast enough. I usually hear a crock of shit and sit there frozen in my disbelief that anyone could say such a ridiculous thing. I don't know what to say, or how to say it in a sensible way that makes an impact, and so I say nothing, and I don't pursue conversation with the other person any longer.

I recognized a like-minded individual a while ago when he was interviewed on CBC radio about his book called You Are Not So Smart, which is all about the phenomenon of human self-delusion. His website is here.

Rethink Plastic

2012-01-07T21:44:00.003-06:00

Links My Son Sends

2012-01-07T11:39:00.000-06:00

Ducky keeps Scott's lap warm

From Everett:

I wonder if Ducky would do this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBluUZ4NnZg&feature=youtu.be

iPhones, the best way to fool animals.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbNl3J8HXw4&feature=related

Smartphones. Why I don't need one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYG6QA9gF0o&feature=uploademail

Stylin'

2012-01-06T13:13:00.001-06:00

My new hat has ear flaps and ties under my chin

A neighbour pulled up alongside while I was out walking yesterday, and laughingly said "You look like an old babuschka in that hat!" I laughed right back and said "I don't care how I look, I'm warm!" When we were in the city overnight for a medical appointment before Christmas, I must've stood out on the downtown streets with my ski pants, sorel boots, and jacket with hood pulled up and scarf wrapped around my throat. I know I did, because I saw so many freezing-cold women hurrying along the sidewalks wearing short skirts with leotards, little leather jackets, and thin boots with heels. They looked stylish enough ... if shivering, clenched teeth and miserable faces count as stylish. Ah, but I've been there, done that ... oh yes. Why, when I was 15 and my parents gave me a skidoo suit for Christmas, I believe I crept down to my room and wept! And the skidoo suit went back to the Sears catalogue. I wouldn't have been caught dead in that thing, and of course wasn't smart enough to heed anyone who advised me to dress warmly. I have been a stubborn learner all my life. Heh!

Another thing I now wear that I never thought I would: this apron Mom sewed up for me:

By cracky, it really DOES keep my clothes clean and unstained! Now that I've been lugging clothing to a laundromat for a year, these things matter.

Also, whenever I put it on, I think of Mom.
I also think of her while I'm working at the countertop, playing my new Cds:

She said it's not a great voice that is the most important thing, it's the choice of a good song, and I agreed with this yesterday as I sang and danced around the kitchen while listening to Madeleine Peyroux. Hers is not a voice I particularly like — as a matter of fact, I might actually dislike her voice a little — but I love the songs on the CD.

Here's a sample from the CD; click here:

Don't Wait Too Long

I mean really, doesn't it make your own toes start tapping? Don't you start yodelling?

However, it's still Melody Gardot's simple songs — and the sweetest voice that sings them so, so perfectly — that never fail to make me amorous. I swear, Scott is not safe when her CD is on the player:

Click here: Baby I'm a Fool:

Bye Bye Birdcats

2012-01-04T14:57:00.002-06:00

Rescued redpoll at rest

Still having problems with birds slamming into the windows. I haven't ordered the zen windowsavers (see above) because Scott has an idea for something similar he can make himself; it's waiting for him to do it that is the problem now. Yesterday a redpoll died instantly when it hit the glass; I went out to make sure the dog didn't get it, but it was too late, it had bled from the beak and was dead.

We thought maybe if I turned on the flashing Christmas lights hung on the window, even during the day, that might do the trick. But no; the redpoll above flew into the glass anyway. Fortunately it was only sitting in the snow stunned when I got to it, and after perching where I set it on the feeder for 15 minutes or so, it flew off.

Last week a hairy woodpecker hit the window and by the time I got out there one of the tomcats had it, still alive, in his mouth and was making a dash for the tractor shed to kill and eat it. I didn't try to get the bird from him at this point, as a quick death would be better for it, I figured, than being injured and in shock if and when I could catch the cat and extricate the bird from his deadly jaws. My heart sank, though, and remained low for quite a while, and sinks each time I recall the scene.

Which is why I was more than happy when a neighbour whose barn needs mousers came yesterday and took the two yearling tomcats home with her. I miss them, friendly fellas that they were, but I don't miss seeing them under my oak trees stalking the birds at the feeders or quickly snatching them up when they hit the window and fall stunned to the ground.

In appreciation of her new cats, my neighbour brought me 18 of her hens' most beautiful eggs, two of which made me a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs this morning.

Letter from Sifeta

2012-01-02T12:02:00.000-06:00

Sifeta's husband and cow

Dear friend,

I felt so honored when I got your letter. I have read it several times. It's nice to know you have a farm. I have a cow, 10 hens, and six sheep and some land.

My husband and I live alone and our son is in Zenica. He often visits us and he helps us financially because we only have 80 marks of income and it can't even cover the bills. Our country is much disorganized when it comes to paying social welfare and pensions.

I live in Zavidovici which is filled with natural wealth. We have many forests with oaks, pines, hornbeams, maples, etc.

We used to have a big sawmill and wood factory called Krivaja. This company was named after the river Krivaja which goes through Zavidovici. Besides this one we also have other rivers like Gostovic and Bosna. These rivers form an estuary at the entrance in the town and at the exit. This is why our town is filled with natural rivers and fish.

The sawmill used to employ between 2 and 3 thousand people but it is closed now.

As I am writing this letter my granddaughters Amra (14) and Amela (10) walk though the door. They live in Luxembourg but they are visiting Bosnia with father Ramiz and their mother Sabina. They will go back to Luxembourg on September 10th.

My entire family and I would like to send greetings to you and your family! My granddaughters saw your photos and they loved the dog. I also have a dog here and they enjoy playing with it. We have named him Sniffy.

Best regards from Sifeta!

Sifeta making potato cakes

I received this translated letter just before Christmas (so am particularly glad we have now made a connection via email), and Sifeta has given me her permission to share it with you.
Unfortunately my scanner no longer works (since an update to my Mac OS, neither it or the printer will go online) so I can't show you the letter in its original language.

Happy Christmas One and All

2011-12-25T19:39:00.000-06:00

Emil (the hairball) at his Christmas party

Scott's brother Bruce and his Uncle Jack provided the musical entertainment

While clients and staff danced away the afternoon

Writing for Justice

2011-12-18T23:30:00.000-06:00

What I did while oatmeal rolls were in the oven

Some people donate a kidney to a stranger; this can extend the life of a struggling kidney patient by 10 years, or so I heard on the radio this week, when a man of 21 was interviewed after doing so. I don't have the guts to give up a kidney — not right now, anyway — so I do what I can in my own small way. I thought I was being pretty brave to sign up to donate bone marrow if I'm ever found to be a match to someone struggling with leukemia. And of course if any of my body parts could be of use when I die, others are welcome to them. But donating a kidney while you're still using it displays compassionate courage that is beyond my grasp at present. Knowing of others who have recently made this sacrifice for someone they've never met drives home to me just how noble I am not. In case I was kidding myself before.

Instead I send Amnesty International a monthly donation to help carry on the fight for human rights around the world, and today I sat down to write letters to world leaders on behalf of prisoners of conscience and their families. I'm adding my little drop to the river of pressure brought to bear on the policy makers of countries that torture, imprison and murder those who don't agree with them.

A read through Amnesty International's quarterly newsletter, making me aware of specific people being held in captivity right now for their peaceful protest against their governments, is a potent reminder of how fortunate I am to live where I do.

With Sifeta's Permission: Photos from Bosnia (Part One)

2011-12-14T19:34:00.001-06:00

Sifeta and her husband; click to enlarge.

Sifeta's house and yard

Sifeta's village in Bosnia

Farflung Friends

2011-12-11T14:25:00.001-06:00

The train passes as we wait, on our way to the Hendon Hotel for chicken wings last week. Not much snow for this time of year. Nice for walking -- not falling on my face due to ice.

The stop sign is perfect for me for the moment, as I am itching to post the photos of Sifeta and her husband and home and village in Bosnia. Yeah! But first I must have her permission, so you will just have to wait. With me.

If you aren't catching it in the comments, Sifeta is a woman in Bosnia that I sponsored this past year through a small (less than $30) monthly donation to Women for Women International, which is one way of helping women who have suffered war in their country (click HERE to see what it's all about). She has handwritten and snailmailed me a couple letters and I have replied via an email to WfW, which must have recently delivered my letter to her because a couple days ago she commented on the blog.

Scott has gone to take Emil back to his home in town and then will go to the family farm a mile down the road and do "chores" for a couple hours. He and his brother shipped some calves off for sale this week so I don't know how many animals remain to look after. I think they usually put out some bales for feed, and some straw bales get spread around for the cattle to "bed down" on, and they have to give them drinking water, and I suppose they're already giving them grain ("chop").

Anyway, I have to wait till he gets back to show him the photos. He will be as thrilled as I am, I'm sure. He will see details in those photos that I have not given a second thought to, and point them out to me. Always, always take Scott along on any tour. He misses nothing.

In other news from overseas, Scott's cousin Lasse who lives in Sweden has said he and his sweetheart Marit plan to come and visit. Woo hoo! Marit recently had a healthy lottery win and the two of them took a trip she had dreamed of since she was a little girl. They blogged about it here: Svalbardresan. You will have to use Translator to read it, but it's worth the time.

Further down my page here there is a list of blogs kept by a few of our family members, listed under "Famdamily." Lasse has been lazy about getting around to updating his recently (Yes I'm talking to you, mister!), but can you blame him? He usually writes it in English out of kindness toward his Canadian readers, so I am sure each entry takes a little more time than he has to spare. He seems to be the "busy" type, something like another man I know well.

A Saturday in December

2011-12-10T20:37:00.001-06:00

For once I managed to snap a picture of Emil before he had a chance to put a shit-eating grin on his face.
He likes this bed in the office, he tells me — often.
He can't wait to go to his dad's at Christmas, he tells me — often.
He's the one who likes to give me kisses, he tells me — often.
There are many Emilisms, but naturally they don't all come to mind when I try to access them.

In other news, here is my second attempt at "Hearty Oatmeal Rolls." I broke down and replaced half the whole wheat flour with white. And threw in a handful of flax seed. And used honey instead of brown sugar. And some are different sizes on purpose, although I could never make them all the same size if I tried. They're delish, but next time I'm just going to make the large ones. Eight giants instead of the 32 davids suggested in the original recipe.

This morning Scott watched a "huge" coyote chase the red fox across our yard, followed by our border collie cross. I missed the show, but later had the misfortune of watching Ace the Cat snacking on a bird he caught at the feeders. I hate that.

Out, Out, Damn Cat!

2011-12-09T15:41:00.001-06:00

One of three poor-tasting oranges I, from the front door, used as projectiles to deter a cat from stalking (and catching, dammit) the birds

It didn't work. He thought they were something to play with.

Horseradish

2011-12-08T23:12:00.001-06:00

Click to enlarge.

Posted for WiseWebWoman, who is suffering a bout of bronchitis.

Ready for a Snow Day

2011-12-08T22:53:00.001-06:00

Slowcooker baked beans, frozen in sandwich bags

I must be a bit weird, because as I post this photo I'm well aware that most people couldn't care less what is in my freezer... but I'd love to see what is in yours!
What've we got here ... drained water from steamed vegetables, frozen to use next time I bake bread; sunflower-oatmeal-honey-wholewheat bread, sliced; pita bread; ice cubes in trays and ice cubes in a bag, where they don't stick together; and what's left of the homemade beans I made on the weekend. Good thing I doubled the batch, that's all I can say.

Fox Lady

2011-12-04T00:10:00.001-06:00

Emil's Christmas party was last night so he stayed in town, but phoned this morning to request I drive in and pick him up. On the way home, not far from our driveway, we spotted this lovely red fox that has been stalking the barn cats. It is not remotely afraid. It was in the field on the other side of the ditch, and when I stopped my van it stayed put ... and actually came toward the vehicle as I dug the camera out of my purse and Emil rolled down his window.

Perhaps it is half blind, or deaf! Or just starving and intent on its hunting. Because after snapping these photos I even had time to find the movie setting and follow the little creature for a while. I whistled several times to get its attention when it was looking away from the camera, and then got out of the van and called after it, "Shouldn't you at least be a little afraid?" It ignored me.

It should be afraid, but it isn't. Scott says it came right up to his truck the other day. That's not a good thing, really, but it sure is a treat to have time to observe a wild animal instead of watching it fade into the distance the moment it notices you.

In the little video I got, you can tell it is definitely hunting; it pounces on the snow, probably after a mouse. Better that than the kittenfish.

Blondi Shows You Her Twits

2011-11-30T12:49:00.001-06:00

After the walk

Over at the Stubblejumpers Café webpage, you will find my twitter feed displayed. I've decided Blondi Blathers should make use of it to add to the page's content, because it is a handy tool for passing on interesting and useful links. And fun links. I signed up for Twitter a long time ago because of my job; it is a way of getting the word out and communicating with existing and potential readers, among other things, and that's important. But it wasn't until I started "following" comedian Ricky Gervais that I got hooked. He has been tweeting often and consistently and he is smart and funny.

Me, I'm only funny looking.

In My Shoes

2011-11-29T13:31:00.001-06:00

Walking in the late afternoon

In a day or two it will be six months since I started walking (briskly, without fail, and for a minimum number of minutes) four times a week, and usually more often. At first I worried about rain keeping me indoors; never happened, as we didn't have a full day of rain even once this summer.

Now I wonder how I'll cope when the wind combines with low temperatures this winter, but think I may well get out there and walk no matter what. Why? Because my body has begun to insist. It has begun to love pushing itself up to speed, breathing deeply of the clean fresh air, coming back tired and sweaty. It feels good. When a day or two of walking gets missed due to distraction or migraine or travel, my body is delighted to get back out there again.

Care of Cast Iron

2011-11-28T15:37:00.001-06:00

Seasoning the cast-iron pan after each use, as per instructions. It's working; easy to clean, now.

I had tried this once before, seasoning the pan for several hours, but just one time, and when afterwards it was as tough as ever to clean, I deduced that nothing but a scratch pad, soap and elbow grease would do the trick.

At Chef Joanne's a few weeks ago I noticed her seasoning her pan and took mental notes, the main difference being that she does it after each use. In my case this can mean more than once a day sometimes! But I've stuck to it anyway, and now the pan just takes a quick scrub.

She set her burner to #2; my eyes react to the oil in the air at that temperature, so I've turned the stove down and will let the pan sit a little longer; hope that works as well.

Yodellin'

2011-11-28T10:02:00.001-06:00

Over and Done With

2011-11-25T12:20:00.001-06:00

What the porch looked like the night before

This thing parked on the flowerbed and started digging.

This thing delivered the concrete septic tank

Septic tank; I had no idea there was a large rectangular box too. Live 'n' learn.

Before they came in for supper and drinks, they buried the septic tank and filled the lagoon with clay. Scott still has some connecting lines to work on, but the dastardliest of the deeds is done. The next day he called me over to look at the spot where the lagoon used to be; not that I care how it looks, as it's in the pasture and behind trees, but maybe it was just to share a moment of relief and triumph. Thank god that horror is over with. Now just to come up with the $7000 or so to pay the bill.

Operation Successful

2011-11-23T12:10:00.001-06:00

Blondi Blathers gives you the run-down on her day as a support service worker for men putting in the septic tank (not too tough, in comparison), while Brainie swans about Costa Rica ... click here: No Shit.

And now ... I've gotta get busy! It's going to be another full day.

Hey, Lagoon! Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Ass on the Way Out

2011-11-22T13:35:00.001-06:00

Pileated Woodpecker

Wouldn't you know that on the day there is a monster machine digging a giant hole off my back step, the digital camera would quit working? Actually it hasn't quit, but it's refusing to upload the photos. I wish I was a person who was good at figuring out the reasons for these things, and how to fix them. Alas, no.

So you're stuck looking at the pileated woodpecker that stopped in the oak trees some time ago. It didn't stay long. This kind of woodpecker is a rarity around here — for me, anyway.

It's a gorgeous day again, temperature hovering around the freezing point, minor wind, sun shining brightly. I spent the morning doing dishes, sorting through a desk drawer, and making lunch for Scott and Terry, who is operating the monster machine. Very plain lunch: boiled potatoes, meatloaf, kernel corn. I put out sliced cheddar and dill pickles, and made chocolate fudge with coffee for dessert. Wouldn't you know, the fudge didn't harden. That virtually never happens with this recipe. Hmph.

Well, if I want to have a sinkful of water available to wash the lunch dishes before they cut off the water supply (Scott will be hooking up the brand-spanking-new septic tank; yes, he can also do plumbing. I'm so impressed), I'd best go get it run.

The Bastards Can Go Straight to Hell

2011-11-20T12:13:00.001-06:00

Seen at Stormfront.org

A friend of ours who doesn’t own a computer received a call like the one we received this week. The man at the other end introduced himself as a technical support person and said they had discovered we are having some problems with our computer, and they would like to help us reconfigure our settings so that it would work properly.

He sounded ever so professional, I am sure (Scott spoke with him), but of course he is a scammer and as soon as he gets you to give him the information he needs about your computer, he can hack into it and copy your banking records, credit card numbers, passwords, anything you do online. Then he can go on a shopping spree.

There is no one who should be calling you about your computer problems. When you have a computer problem, YOU call THEM. Your internet service provider, or your bank, or your phone company, does not need to call you for any information or send you an email asking you to confirm your settings or passwords. They’ve already got your passwords; the legitimate company does not need you to verify anything over the phone or by email.

If someone claiming to be a legitimate business is calling you, hang up, look for the number of your internet provider or whoever the caller is claiming to be affiliated with, and call the company yourself, directly. Do not follow any link the caller provides you with, or call any number they give you.

It sounds simple enough, but these guys are good at what they do, and they very often convince people that changes are required or else big problems are in the offing.

The bottom line is: if they’re asking you to give them numbers or passwords, or telling you to enter anything into your computer, or even to click on a link they send or go to an url they give you, they’re scammers.

I’m such a cynic about phone scams that I won’t donate to any charity that telephones me. Not a one. In the past couple weeks I received two phone calls from World Wildlife Fund, asking if I could increase my monthly donation. I was having no truck with that and gave the caller short shrift. Then I found the WWF email address online and sent them a short letter: call off your dogs (if indeed these weren’t scammers who phoned me), or my monthly donations will stop immediately. Most of the money brought in by these hired fundraisers goes to the fundraising companies themselves, anyway. I believe it's upwards of 80 per cent. And even if these callers, for example, were volunteers who are dedicated to the planet's wildlife, I don't want to be approached by phone.

What kind of scams have the bastards tried to pull on you, lately?

My Week in Pictures

2011-11-19T14:33:00.001-06:00

I opened a bottle of wine earlier in the week. Had two glasses so far. Managed to squeeze this in next to my computer.

One day I tried a new recipe: "hearty oatmeal rolls." Being the gal I am, I made a few substitutions. We can blame the size of these puppies on the fact that I used whole wheat flour instead of white. Pathetic, aren't they? I'm going to try again though, because they tasted great. Will make them twice the size next time. Still, I gave these to the cats this morning. Never could make 'em all the same size; same with a batch of bread.

Scott has a very bad cold; he barely has the energy to make himself a cup of tea. However, the basement must be ready for plumbing-in (or somesuch) the septic tank on Tuesday, so he's down there wielding a jackhammer. I've called in reinforcements; we'll see who shows up before he collapses.

The sun's shining and there is no wind, so I went for a half-hour walk today and filled all five birdfeeders when I returned. It may be 20-below, but without wind that doesn't seem cold to me anymore. After all, I wear ski pants. :p

Wherever I go, my faithful companion Ducky is not far behind. Little sweetheart.

Emil is here for the weekend. He is going to play cards with me whether he likes it or not.

Winter Walk

2011-11-16T21:50:00.001-06:00

Four-thirtyish

I knew winter walking was going to be a challenge. Today I went out in the early afternoon when the sky was grey and the wind, once I was out in the open, bit my cheeks and eyelids. Indeed I really will have to buy a balaclava; no more kidding around. Crike-ey. I managed 20 minutes out there before coming in.

At fourish I tried again. The sun was shining by then and the wind had settled down enough that I could walk to the south corner and back, which took 30 minutes. It was the first day cold enough to sting my fingers when I took my mitts off to get pictures.

Yonder lieth the corner

It was a glorious walk.

Old Photographs Sorted

2011-11-15T17:40:00.001-06:00

I'm the babe in the photos on the top left, with my mommy and daddy.

The pictures I brought home have been sorted yet again, into a basket for the coffee table in the living room, and envelopes with those that will go to other friends and relatives, and a box of several that I may enlarge and frame. Or something. Open to ideas. These are quite small snapshots and not blurry as they appear below.

Engdahls, Grandma Johnson's parents and siblings. Little sister Karen and me, bottom right.

Main Street Pilger

2011-11-14T19:26:00.001-06:00

Beer Parlour/ Pub/Bar/Hotel

We had snow, sure, but the past few days have been mild like an Okanagan winter. I took a drive to Pilger to spend a couple days with my friend Joanne (Trinkets and Tales). But do you think I could drag the woman out for a walk? Hell no, had to go all by my lonesome. No dog, even. I made sure to complain, after kicking the snow off my boots, that it didn't even take 15 minutes to walk around the whole town.

No I didn't stop for a cold one. Maybe next time.

Kate, Kate, the Fashion Plate

2011-11-08T13:19:00.000-06:00

Seasonal walking gear comes out of the closet

Election Day in Saskatchewan

2011-11-07T14:49:00.000-06:00

Saskatchewan flag

I'll get to town later to cast my ballot. I'm working at my desk, while three-bean-chili simmers in the slowcooker. Kurt is out in the garden, digging up rosebushes, purple coneflowers and a plume poppy after shoveling snow away. It's a pleasant day for being outside if you keep your ears covered. I managed to walk to the corner and back at noon but not without my trusty ski pants. They have been moved from the closet to a hook in the porch. It's time.

Love These Leisurely Sunday Mornings

2011-11-06T10:38:00.001-06:00

Ace has to be at the centre of everything

One day last week I allowed myself a walk that wasn't a cardio workout. This was long overdue and it did me a world of good. I squeezed under the electric wire and scouted out our own little bit of property rather than taking the road as usual. You can't march across the pasture or you'll twist an ankle for sure.

Accompanying me were the two dogs and Ace, who at one point started to disappear with the dogs into the bush till I called him to me. "They'll leave you behind out here, you know! You can't trust 'em!" He listened to me, too, but you could tell he felt he should be with his pack.

At the back of the pasture there is bush and, within it, a slough. The cows must spend a lot of time back there as the grass between the trees is beaten into paths and chewed down so it's a magical wandering-place for an afternoon visitor in the late fall sunshine of a windless day. There behind the rise of a small hill is the perfect private place for a tipi.

I still imagine having a tipi, after 20 years or more. Probably something to do with tents, with camping, the luxury/roughing-it combination that is so satisfying as long as you are warm and dry and have everything you need close at hand.

On the way back to the yard I sat and rested on a piece of unused old machinery (it was rusty metal, whatever it is) and the cat joined the dogs to dig through a clump of grass after something they heard or smelled. Although I don't think Ace can see or smell very well. Is that normal for cats?

This youngster was a little surprised we were out there

Our yard from the north

That is, one evening last week. I have to get my small backlog of snapshots up (you people are so demanding! with your insistence on up-to-the-moment reporting) because here's what Golden Grain Farm looks like this morning:

Looks like the flowerbed won't get finished unless the snow melts. Hm. Not likely at this late date.

The captain of the world organizes it from his sickbed

I've made him a pot of yarrow & spearmint tea (both from our yard), bade him put on socks and something to keep his upper back warm, made sure he's dosed himself up with Cold FX and echinacea extract, and suggested he find some comedies to watch.

My choice would be Coronation Street, which makes me burst out laughing during almost every episode. I bet if you don't watch the show you don't think of it as a comedy, but I swear a half-hour of Corrie St is funnier than any of the popular sitcoms with their "what was funny about that, I ask you" punchlines and bogus laugh tracks. At least, any that I've seen recently. Except The Ricky Gervais Show, which is also quite amusing. I definitely admire Gervais's wit and sensibility, and his ability to split his own gut does split mine. Oh dear, so much television, so little time!

Forgotten Bookmarks has an appropriate entry today, a Get Well card. You might want to swing down to the list of links at the bottom of this page every once in a while; surely you'd find something of interest. But today, click here.

Wonder what the kittenfish will think of this, their first substantial snow.

5:43pm
A coyote ran right across our front lawn this afternoon and sat in front of the maple tree till we scared it off (could it have heard my delighted shriek? or just Scott knocking on the window?) — before I could get the camera.

Flowerbed Building and Birthday Boy

2011-11-05T16:10:00.000-06:00

Scott's cousin Kurt starts digging up the lawn

Scott walks in while I'm doing something at the kitchen counter and says, "I've decided it has to be a septic tank." He has been hemming and hawing about whether to put time and money into working on the lagoon and then maybe this winter it would do the trick, or digging a septic tank in and having done with the b.s. "Let's phone Kurt and see if he can come and help you move those rosebushes."

So I'm outside in my fluffy white housecoat with a winter jacket over top, bare feet slipped into shoes, to confab about where the rosebushes should go before Scott leaves to haul bales. A heavy frost is on the grass this morning and the forecast for tomorrow is our first dump of snow.

Kurt is racing the elements as he has to dig down a foot or more into clay, and there are stones from the old foundation, and caragana roots sometimes encroach as well. I would be frustrated as hell, jumping with both feet onto the shovel and getting it only a half-inch into the ground each time. I'm happy to let Kurt plug away at it while Emil dries the dishes I wash. Then I haul out the ingredients for a batch of chocolate chip bran muffins.

But first, tea.

Did I mention my youngest son turns 19 today?

I like to sing him that song, that Carpenters song, you know it:

"On the day that you were born
The angels got together
And decided to create a dream come true ...
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair
And golden starlight in your eyes of blue -- "

Oh hell, here's the way it's supposed to sound!

When I sing it he gets pissed off, but I care not, because when it comes to my little sweetie, every word rings true.

Meeses to Pieces

2011-11-05T13:47:00.003-06:00

Seen on the way to town, mother and child grazing on winter wheat

Dream House No More

2011-11-04T12:33:00.000-06:00

To walk to either corner of our road and back doesn't give me quite the brisk 45 minutes the doctor ordered, so I usually go a few minutes beyond and then turn around. For a change I crossed the correction line and strolled down a long driveway that takes you to an old farmyard where no one lives anymore.

The barn is starting to sag a little in disrepair and the farmhouse is disappearing behind trees.

Maggie Polito, you may be envious to hear that a couple years ago when Shelly came out to see me, she looked longingly at this old house and yard with an eye to purchasing it for herself as a summer retreat. I would have loved that, but advised her to hang onto her cash and park her camper in my yard (or move herself into our house if she likes) instead. It'd be a lot less expensive and besides, the old farmhouse is no longer livable. I think raccoons have taken over the inside.

When she comes to visit she still keeps her eyes peeled for little farmyards she can make her own, though. That Alberta girl must have some Saskatchewan blood in her somewhere, calling to her "Come home, come home!"

***

Family members on the Bartley side may be interested in the photos I sat up late last night posting to the page "Aunt Alma's Yukon." See above. I will get in there and clean the page up eventually and add more of her pictures.

Meanwhile it's back to work for this old girl for a couple more hours before heading to town to pick Emil up for the weekend. Everett, in Edmonton with his dad, turns 19 tomorrow so Emil and I will purchase a cake and eat it for him. Least we can do.

***

And furthermore ... one reason I really enjoy my job ... is that in the course of a working day I often come across things like this:
A clip from Wild Life, the newest short from Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby.

Down on the Farm

2011-11-03T13:57:00.000-06:00

Scott's brother Bruce throwing bales into the loft

Surely we are going to get some snow one of these days!

Meanwhile, Letters of Note has a cute one today: click here to see it.

Yesterday they had one handwritten by Madonna as an application for an early acting job. She was 19 I think.

***

Something possessed me to start cleaning the porch. You know how that goes: you pick up one thing to put it away, then see something else you might as well move while you're noticing, then what the hell the floor needs a good sweeping, and next thing you know the entire room is in flux and there goes an hour of your day. All the hours of my day are like that!

Close Call

2011-11-02T10:38:00.001-06:00

Looking left

When you live on a farm and approach a country road like this one, where you can see quite a ways in both directions, you easily get into the habit of looking left and right and slowing but not stopping at the yield sign. This is what I’ve been doing, and obviously it has to change because on the weekend I pulled onto the correction line only to be shocked by a neighbour’s half-ton whizzing by the windshield, just inches away.

I had looked both ways — Scott was with me, and saw me do it as he himself was reaching into the back seat — but one glance in each direction is not enough. Because see that bar there? (Never mind the cat pawprints on the glass; I went back a couple days later just to take these pictures for you and remind myself how close we came to a serious dustup; the pawprints weren't there on the afternoon in question.)

Looking right

That three-inch-wide bar creates a blind spot into which a moving vehicle disappears for only a moment or two. But it’s long enough to be the cause of a terrible accident.

So, don’t look once in each direction. Look TWICE.

A near-miss like this has happened to me before. I can remember at least two other times. I swear, there are traffic angels on my side or I'd've been toast years ago.

From now on I stop completely at all intersections, even if I’m miles from a busy road, even if I feel like an over-cautious old lady. I’ll be an unmangled old lady and my passengers and other drivers will be safer, and that’s what matters.

The day after this incident I phoned the neighbour to apologize. “You can send me your drycleaning bill,” I said.

He’d seen me at the corner, thought I was going to stop, had already moved over when I didn't, and was prepared to “take the ditch” if necessary. So Scott and I were not in any danger, it turns out, due to our neighbour being 10 times more on the ball than I was. Thank goodness Mr B’s truck hurtled past before he had to hit the ditch. It must be hard to live with when you’re responsible for an accident that hurts someone.

Deb and Colin, The Friendly Giant, and So On

2011-11-01T12:09:00.002-06:00

Oh my godenheimerness, check this out:
http://www.cbc.ca/75/episodes.html?ID=2159373773
CBC is celebrating its 75 years and Deb McGrath and her husband are saying their piece.
I crack up when Deb snorts! She is The Best.

You'll have to scroll down for Deb and Colin's bit, but don't forget to come back up and watch an episode of The Friendly Giant. Now that brings back some lovely memories. And it's still fine TV!

If you haven't seen Deb and Barb's webpage, click here. HERE!

And you can find out more about Bob Homme, the Friendly Giant, at the Canadian Encyclopedia. Click here. HERE!

And while you're poking about the encyclopedia, why not have a look at Deb's bio here, and Colin's here.

And a couple articles I've written:
Little Mosque on the Prairie (the TV show)
Stuart McLean (storyteller extraordinaire)
Nell Shipman (one of the first movie stars)

There, that should do for today's reading.
Now I suppose you're expecting a picture:

This year's batch of kittens are getting brave enough to come closer to the house. This is Birdie running up the maple tree.

Frightening Fun

2011-10-31T10:46:00.001-06:00

My sister Joan and her husband Gary, above (he's impersonating a Scottish hooker and she's got up as Reagan, the possessed child in The Exorcist), had their annual Halloween party this weekend. Go have a look at some of their guests... mooah-ah-ah-ah ... click here.

Haunted Houses

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

All houses wherein men have lived and died

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors

The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,

With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,

Along the passages they come and go,

Impalpable impressions on the air,

A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts

Invited; the illuminated hall

Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,

As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;

He but perceives what is; while unto me

All that has been is visible and clear.

So from the world of spirits there descends

A bridge of light, connecting it with this,

O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,

Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

For more Longfellow, click here. Don't ask me why Blogger is f'ing up the poem's formatting and ignoring the simple html I put in to fix it. Can't win, apparently.
Thanks, Barbara, for posting this poem where I could see it!

Also, thanks to Marshall for posting this link to a POLAR BEAR CAM!
Click here.

Moi in Hand-Me-Down Sweater

2011-10-30T13:14:00.000-06:00

Joan, to avoid itching I'm wearing the short-sleeved brown wool sweater [you gave me] over a sleeveless brown top with a lacy bodice edging.

Still haven't figured out how to get a decent photograph with the iMac's 'Photobooth' function. It always messes up the lighting for me.

We had a little skiff of snow yesterday. Also, just missed being in a car accident by the skins of our noses. More on that later.

Check out Marion's description of the UFOs she's been seeing lately ... click here.I haven't been that kind of lucky, but was still quite dazzled by the northern lights on Monday and came across this FB photo taken by a gentleman in Saskatoon. I hope he won't mind my posting it here.

Photo by Colin Chatfield

If you are a person who has never seen the northern lights, I feel sorry for you. Honestly, they can be breathtaking. The colour can be more intense than what you see in the picture above, and they move around the sky. It's hard to explain, but let me try: straight beams of colour sometimes cascade across the sky like searchlights tagging, then overtaking, each other ... it can look like the curtain of the most grandiose stage opening and closing ....

Another Treasure Brought Home

2011-10-29T11:43:00.000-06:00

Great-Great Aunt Alma's dishes

These dishes were given by Mom's Great-Aunt Alma to my grandmother, who passed them along to Mom, who proudly displayed them in her kitchen or dining room, always.

After Mom's passing and some time had gone by, Dad packed up a few of Mom's things for her daughters. There were three sets of old dishes; one for each of us. Karen received a set that had belonged to our Great-Great Aunt Alma, who was a nurse and travelled enough to pick up such luxuries from various places in Europe. She was single till middle-age and had no children, which might explain how she could afford nice things while her sister, my great-grandmother, on the farm here in Saskatchewan, could not.

Dad brought me a set that belonged to his mother and was on the head table at his and Mom's wedding. They are a Princess Anne set, cream-coloured with gold edging, including every possible piece: platters, jugs, soup tureen with lid, and so on. They're displayed on the top shelves of two adjacent, doorless kitchen cabinets.

But I think it was this set, the mottoware, that we all loved the best. I know I did. Yet we all had the impression that Joan would like to have it, and that was fine with us. Dad held onto it for her. If Karen and I wept, it was in private. (Heh.) Fortunately for me, Joan has decided she has no place to display these dishes, and so I brought them back with me from Kelowna. Karen also has no place to put them at the moment, so I did not have to armwrestle her. They're mine! For now. For we all know that one day they must go to someone else in the family, to be loved and cared for and shown off. In the meantime, where to put them?

On top of the fridge

And on top of Grandma Johnson's china cabinet

I think of Mom every time I look at them. And I love to think of Mom.

Email to Everett

2011-10-27T16:06:00.000-06:00

You can see right through the caraganas at the edge of the front lawn now that most of their leaves have fallen. Yesterday morning I heard Scott knocking on the window before he opened the front door.

"You get out of here! Git!"

He said a coyote walked right down the middle of the driveway, then between the van and truck parked in front of the quonset, and straight toward the tractor shed where the cats live — as if it knew right where to go for breakfast.

The other day the dogs and I were walking back from the north when an animal came out of our yard and went into the ditch on the other side of the road. I thought it was one of the cats, till it crossed the road again and I could see its fluffy tail. It then walked in our direction, not seeing us. I managed to get this picture before it noticed and dashed into the bush beside our house. It was a fox ... also scouting for cats, I bet.

Didn't see Alice Cooper today or yesterday, or Misha. Hope they're just out hunting and make it back safely.

We have about 10 cats out there and if someone indicates they've a friend looking for a cat, I can't imagine parting with even one of them. Each one comes for a cuddle, now, whenever I go out. It can be short and sweet but they're not happy till they get their due.

Fall Colours

2011-10-27T14:09:00.000-06:00

Fick and Raye

2011-10-26T16:20:00.001-06:00

Hm, funny! Usually this pair will ham it up for the camera, but on Saturday they were being shy as they made their way down the steps after a night of drinking and debauchery.

Good Shat

2011-10-25T09:48:00.002-06:00

With gratitude to Scott's sister Tanya and to the person in the vehicle who suggested she call (I owe you), here is the message left on our answering machine last night while I was away from the phone:

"It's Tanya; we're on our way to Saskatoon and maybe you can see it too... the northern lights are in the southern sky!"

I threw on a jacket, stepped into shoes and went out on the step to be astounded by aurora borealis in every direction, including straight above. I went down the steps to the lawn where I could see past the house to the southeast ... and the lights, pale green everywhere else, were bright red!

I have never seen this before. It made me think of Mom, who had seen the northern lights red once. Quite a display.

If you've never seen the northern lights, you are missing something. Hie thee to the north country and see them before you die. They are one of the wonders of the world.

To Kill a Mockingbird now Playing at Theatre Calgary

2011-10-24T15:12:00.001-06:00

Interviews and stage scenes with actors R.H. Thomson and the young "Scout" for your pleasure!

Click here.

Damn Their Hides

2011-10-23T22:33:00.000-06:00

What was a road lightly treed on the west, my regular walking route (you've seen plenty of photos), looked like this when we returned. It was a bit of a shock.

Yep. Just beyond this mess are the two driveways that lead into our yard.

Supposedly some of this carnage, which includes ditching, will help drain water away from our property, so I oughtn't to howl (considering the moisture problems we've had since we bought the place). The rest of the destruction might keep the road from blocking in with snow during the winter, and perhaps it will give the landowner an extra acre or two to put into crop.

What can I say. Maybe it's for the best, and maybe it isn't, but I still hate it.

Rosie and the Riveters

2011-10-22T19:52:00.003-06:00

Great concert in Wadena last night. Four-part harmonies; what's not to love. Talented women, these.

There is always a break halfway through, where squares and coffee, tea and juice are served. This is the band's opportunity to sell some of their CDs, and of course everyone snacks and chats.

Seated at a long table in the church basement, next to the young lady on the far right, I was sipping tea and nibbling on a butter tart when someone brought over her CD for an autograph. When she opened it up for signing I noticed the singer's full name inside. "You're Alexis Normand?" I said. "I heard you on CBC radio not long ago and thought 'I've got to get her CD.' I even sat bolt upright to write your name down so I wouldn't forget. I'll take one of those!"

Quel surprise.

Beside her is Melissa Nygren, whose mom Shirley was raised on a farm near Wadena. Shirley is the cousin of a gal my age (Cindy T.) who was our neighbour on the farm, so we knew each other as teenagers. I haven't seen her forever, but she's become an accomplished artist and lives in Saskatoon, where Rosie and the Riveters drove out from.

Farideh, with the guitar, was in the One Human Family Gospel Workshop with me last fall. And the lady beside her hails originally from Australia, but found the 100% humidity where she lived too much to bear because it kept her indoors in the air conditioning all the time.

Their website is HERE, where you will find a link that allows you to listen to their music.

Visit with Shelly

2011-10-21T22:39:00.000-06:00

After looking in on Everett in Edmonton for a couple hours, we drove out to Shelly's new place (well, three years since she bought it) and spent a day there before hitting the dusty trail home.

She and Scott had several conversations about various things; I forget just what, now. Why something didn't work, how to fix it, possible solutions, and so on. She took him downstairs where her industrial sewing machine is and doctored up a couple items for him, and he made an adjustment to the glass door of her fireplace so that it closed properly for the first time since she moved there. (Aside to Maggie Polito: She screamed when he did it in less than 30 seconds!) Till we arrived she'd kept it closed for three years by leaning a log against the handle rather than paying the minimum $1200 estimated by a fireplace professional for the new insert it absolutely needed. (Bastards!)

Whatever I added, she wasn't sure whether to believe it or not; I have seen this expression many, many times since we met more than 30 years ago:

A fearless do-it-yourself'er, she described some of her problems around the house and yard to the general contractor, who listened carefully and then offered his two cents:

As my sister Karen once said to me with a grin, "Kathy, he doesn't know everything!"
I know he doesn't know everything (thank god; he's cocky enough already), but dammit, he knows a lot of stuff. Guess he should, after being in the construction business for 30 years or more, and growing up on a farm before that. Farm boys know why things aren't working, and how to make them work.

Giant Rocks & Sundry

2011-10-20T21:15:00.000-06:00

Let's get all these mountain pictures out of the way.

I think these are called Three Sisters:

Neither of us could remember this passage blasted through the rock, from our last trip:

You'd think it would be hard to forget:

One of the unnerving things about driving through the Rockies are the signs:
"Avalanche Area, No Stopping Next 900 Metres."
Then you see great hunks of rock sitting on the shoulder of the highway.

We only saw one elk, and couldn't get a good picture. Considering my sister's husband raises elk, it's not hard to see them any time we want, so I didn't try terribly hard. This fellow was making the road his own; we took photos from inside the truck:

More sights on our travels through Alberta:

One of Scott's many great-nieces; look at that sweet little dress

Shelly, with the Welcome thingy she bought at Mallard Industries when she was here in September

Road Through the Rockies

2011-10-19T22:06:00.000-06:00

A heavy dread settles on my chest whenever we approach the Rocky Mountains. They are just so massive — so — so — formidable.

Nevertheless, I can't help but be impressed by the sheer size of them. There is no way my camera can do them justice. Also, I'm snapping these from our moving vehicle, through the window.

Scott can't resist telling, yet again, the story of his cousin Alex who came from England to visit and planned to walk through the mountain range from Banff to Jasper. As if he'd actually come out the other side ... no, no, only his bones would be found. If even those. Scott gets such a kick out of this, because obviously English mountain ranges are nothing like these.

At the end of the drive, in Kelowna, I get to see my littlest sister Joan and her family, and Dad and Grace, and our friends Roy and Gloria, and that's as many as we can comfortably fit in, in two days and three nights.

Can you tell Joan and I are sisters?

We spent hours on two afternoons sorting through Dad and Mom's photographs, as he is paring down his possessions and lightening his load.

Think I'll Go Out to Alberta

2011-10-18T22:19:00.002-06:00

Somewhere around Drumheller (photo by Scott, who has a thing for falling-down barns)

Somewhere around Calgary

The boys're cookin' (Scott and son Gunnar)

Sheryne, puppy whisperer, with Leo on the way to his new home at my sister Joan's

A Little Gift from Heaven

2011-10-05T23:00:00.002-06:00

Babyface, you've got the cutest little babyface.

I have never forgotten babysitting Kendra's mom, my cousin Heather. I was about 19 if I'm not mistaken (weren't you with me, Shelly?) when we stayed with her on the farm one Halloween night while my aunt and uncle were out kicking up their heels. If I recall correctly some of the local fellas nailed plywood over the doors as a "trick." Anyhoo, Heather was around the same age as little Kendra here and was the sweetest, happiest, smilingest baby I'd ever seen, or have since. Look at her there, still grinning!

Tomorrow we're off for a week's holiday to visit the rellies in Alberta and BC. This has reminded me of The Awful Fate of Melpomenus Jones. You can read about it by clicking here. We’ll avoid his end, and torturing our family and friends, by sticking with my carefully planned itinerary.

Joanne, I’ll be checking email while we’re away, so keep sending me your blog entries; I expect to be able to post them every day. Who knows, I may even manage to write up an entry or two myself.

Stalking the Great Blue Heron

2011-10-05T00:34:00.000-06:00

The Great Blue Heron considers whether to stay or go.

Notoriously shy, if you slow your vehicle down too much when driving past, the heron will flap off. I walk past it every day and it won't stand still and let me admire it. You'd think it might get used to me a little. Stuckup bird. I was a passenger in the truck on Sunday and managed to snap this one at a distance. It's a pretty huge bird; I'm awed every time I see it.

Today the wind blew me halfway across the road a couple times. It wasn't too cold, thankfully, so my walk wasn't bad, but that wind, wow.

Regarding The Discovery of Slowness, by Sten Nadolny:"Arctic explorer John Franklin, a man whose natural pace of living and thinking is portrayed as that of an elderly sloth after a long massage and a pipe of opium. Franklin is mocked as a child, but when he reaches the Far North he finds the environment perfectly suited to his nature: a place where one takes one's time, where very little happens, and where it is important to stop and think before rushing into action." - from How to Live, or A Life of Montaigne in 20 Questions (or something). This made me think of Everett, who moves like molasses but always gets where he's going.

Now if I could just figure out a way to get that damn heron to stay put.

I had the best surprise this afternoon when my cousin Heather stopped in with her beautiful six-month-old daughter. Work? Out the window, while I kissed the baby and jabbered with her mom. Photo of her lovely little face tomorrow; tonight, my bed is calling mee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee.

Quick 'n' Dirty

2011-10-03T21:23:00.000-06:00

It takes concentration to mow the lawn for the last time in the season.

Still no siding on the shack, but at least our minds are finally made up about the colour. It will be a pale yellow. That is, if we get it purchased before we change our minds again.

Well peeps, I was just about to climb into bed to read when I remembered no entry had yet been made today. So I'll carry on in that ever-so-pleasurable direction, and leave you with links to some other webpages worth reading.

Joanne at Trinkets and Tales is new to blogging, and has posted a poem about the changing landscape of Saskatchewan due to the re-watering of the province. You can read it here, and when you do, leave her a comment for encouragement. We all like to know someone is reading.

On the other end of the country, Shifting Landscapes is an entry about long friendships and how they are nourished and maintained— if and when they are. We aren't all good at keeping the lines of communication open, but it's usually worth it when we do.

Beasts I Have Seen

2011-10-02T17:43:00.000-06:00

These two yearlings think they're dogs and should come along on my walks.

Usually they don't get far. They complain as they begin to lag behind, then give up, wait in the tall grass of the ditch until my return, and accompany me back into the yard as if they've been along the whole way. Alice, the orange one on the right, has turned out to be a male; he's now Alice Cooper.

**********************************************************************************

Back when I first started reading online journals, now called blogs, there was a gal who rode her bicycle to work. She called herself Firedrake or somesuch, and her entries always included a listing of the roadkill she'd seen on the highway. I wonder where that woman ended up, if she's still blogging somewhere, whether she still bikes and keeps track of the carnage along the way.

I have spared you any snapshots of the roadkill I pass on my walks. Right now there's a dead racoon that the magpies and other wildlife have only recently discovered; for the first week or two it lay there stinking to high heaven and I wondered why it remained untouched. I couldn't walk there with the dogs, for the stench. After the smell went away, we did stroll past the body and Buck Duckster III, a.k.a. Ducky the Incorrigible Deerfaced Chihuahua, immediately made as if to roll on it. I called him off and he listened, but having turned back and walked past it a few minutes later, I didn't think to keep an eye on the brat until I heard a strange squeaking and sure enough Ducky was having a heyday on the dead creature, and I guess his weight was forcing air out of it or something. You can imagine how much we enjoyed having the Duckster on our laps that night.

Also dead on the road is a little gopher, face-up. I can't figure out what is taking the scavenger animals and birds so long to find these bodies. There were also a lot of dead garter snakes during the hot weeks of late summer, run over by vehicles. Maybe they come out onto the gravel road because it helps them shed their skins? I found a complete snake skin one day, from head to toe, or end, or whatever.

And then come September these little brown and black caterpillars appeared all over the road. I'm constantly sidestepping them.

A little internet research indicates that they are woolly bear caterpillars, out looking for a good place to hibernate. See here for more information.

How to Vanquish the Blues

2011-10-01T13:37:00.000-06:00

The south entrance to our yard

In the night or first thing in the morning, before I'm fully awake, I sometimes feel a lonely hopeless emptiness, as if there’s no lasting meaning or value in life, as if all our efforts and struggles come to naught anyway— we die, our loved ones die, we aren't that important to anyone— but the other night Scott had been out of bed and when he came back I asked if he was all right and he said he was having trouble breathing, was stuffed up, and I put a comforting hand on him and he laid one on me— and that lonely emptiness disappeared.

Is that all it takes? A gentle concern for someone else, and their wordless appreciation of it, to vanquish the blues?

For a laugh and a lift, go read Brainie's poem today at Stubblejumpers Cafe. Click here.

Seen on the Road

2011-09-29T12:05:00.000-06:00

Scott's cousin Darren

There isn’t too much traffic on the road where I walk, but there’s enough, especially at this busy time of year. Here’s what I imagine drivers say to themselves when they pass me out there with my doggy friends:

Former employer, now hired man for local farmer: “That girl hasn’t changed a bit in the last 20 years.” (Ha! Wishful thinking on my part; shut up, it's my blog and I'll dream if I want to.)

Farmer rushing to the field: “Bet I won’t see her out here every day when it’s 30-below.”

Darren: “I’ll stop a minute to stretch my legs and say hello so I don’t seem stuck-up.” (He told me, so I’m not imagining this one.)

Stranger: “Wonder if she needs help changing a flat tire or something.”

Woman who lives in nearest farmyard, has four youngsters and works in town full-time: “Wish I had time to go for a walk once in a while.”

Her husband: “Darn, I’ve gotta slow down. Hope that little dog doesn’t run out in front of my truck again.”

Close-up Coyote

2011-09-28T09:35:00.001-06:00

Coyote intent on something in the ditch

Having a leisurely scratch

On my way to town yesterday afternoon I noticed a coyote pouncing on something in the ditch. I stopped the van, grabbed the camera and got out, fully expecting the wild dog to be long gone, as they usually are the moment they notice you. This little one just kept right on with its business, while I stood at the back corner of my noisy (something’s happening with the muffler) van, snapped a couple photos, and then changed the camera setting to video. At this point the creature noticed me, stood and stared back as if seeing me standing there was no shock; this is so unusual that I was prepared to bolt to the driver’s door in case it should approach me. You never know; if wild animals are rabid, they might. After a moment of awe I spoke to it. “Shouldn’t you be running away? Hm?”
It watched me for another moment and then apparently saw the wisdom of my suggestion and sauntered off as I recorded this short video:

Letter from Karen

2011-09-27T09:37:00.000-06:00

My niece (Karen's daughter) Cara with Bacardi

Cara's dog Bacardi has lived at Karen and Dick's farm for many years, but his hips had given out over the past few weeks so he went to Cara's house in Kelvington for some special care and attention. The final trip to the vet's office was put off until it was clear that Bacardi would not improve and couldn't use his hind legs anymore. Marc is my nephew and Kade is Cara's five-year-old son. I received this email from Karen yesterday:

   Well, it's done. I went with Cara and Bacardi to the clinic this a.m. and watched and cried as Bacardi drew his last breath. Rob was nice enough to administer the two needles outside in the grass where we all felt a little more at ease. We brought Bacardi home to Marc and Michelle's and buried him in a quilt-lined box that Dick had built for him. His grave is covered with flat rocks and there is a small photo of him and Cara sitting on top.
   He was a great dog and Cara and I reminisced about a few things. She told me how Kade had been playing with Ciera (his dog) a few days ago and she growled at him (just playing) but Bacardi dragged himself between them and warned Ciera with a growl that he was not to be hurt. That was my typical Bacardi.
   I'll miss him alot—just him lying under the trampoline is a sight that I won't see again, or the familiar whining "Welcome home!" Well I truly hope he's in a better place, pain free and where the sun is always shining.

✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮******************************************************* ✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮

To see what I've been reading, check out On the Nightstand. - Stubblejumpin' Moi

How Great Thou Art

2011-09-25T12:17:00.003-06:00

If you missed Carrie Underwood's performance of this song on a recent "tribute to women in country music" show, you missed something. Honest to God. Almost makes you want to believe in God, doesn't it? Heh. Maybe I have a soft spot for this song because we sang it as kids in vacation bible school or something, but I can't watch this video without getting all teary and I see that the audience in attendance was equally moved. Oh, and Vince Gill did a fine job too.

Church Bells and Field Suppers

2011-09-24T12:03:00.001-06:00

My sister got her mitts on a bell from an old church, and it now hangs above the entryway of her new house, which is under construction at the Margo Lake resort development, Aurora Beach.

When speaking to my brother out in Edmonton a couple weeks ago, I asked if he missed anything about farming, and he said "Yeah. Suppers in the field. Man, they tasted good."

See a traditional harvest field supper in Joanne's entry today. Note how the food is set up on the tailgate of the truck. The workers will stop long enough to gobble it down, and then they'll hop right back into the machinery and carry on. Click here: http://goldengrainfarm.blogspot.com/p/out-margo-way_20.html

Nose to the Grindstone

2011-09-23T14:17:00.003-06:00

Emil wanted Shelly to see his work station.

Alas, she left yesterday morning and I am doing dishes alone once more ....And working again. It is warm/hot outside — shorts weather — and I am sitting in here with a shawl on. What can I say? Wuss.

Finished the Harvest

2011-09-22T00:07:00.001-06:00

After a long hard day in the field, Scott brings (l to r) his uncle, cousin and brother in for chickpea stew, baking powder biscuits, chocolate fudge, and beer.

Like Sisters

2011-09-19T23:57:00.001-06:00

Wildlife: a too-late entry for Joan's photo challenge...

Shelly arrived yesterday and so tonight we did try to get a photo of Old Friends for your current challenge, Joan, but in every picture one or the other of us had closed eyes or the pic was dark or it was always something. We'll try again while she's here.

I worked over the weekend so I could take today off just to spend hanging out with my friend of more than 30 years, and managed to keep her occupied this morning by having a leisurely breakfast, doing dishes, strolling through the flowerbeds to collect seeds for her to sow next spring, and going for a walk.

But by the afternoon she needed a project, and what was it going to be? The porch. The porch needed cleaning out badly, and she was determined to help me do it. It meant moving a bed from one room to another, moving another bed out of the porch, mucho sweeping and rearranging, and hauling of boxes and boards out to the quonset, and vacuuming, and stacking, and so on. But three hours later we were done and the porch is a new room.

Shelly's visits always remind me of Mom because when Mom would come to my house for a few days, she'd pick a room to tackle and she'd slough it out bigtime and I loved it. (Grandma used to do something similar whenever she visited Mom's house, too). It gave me a little motivation, not to mention a lot of help. The best birthday gift I ever got, I'm sure, was one time when Shelly showed up at my house and cleaned out the fridge.

And now off I go to get rested up for tomorrow. Who knows what she will want to do then! I will need all my energy.

What's Good for the Goose

2011-09-17T10:42:00.001-06:00


From now till June I'll have to buy all my fresh flowers from the store. Loved 'em while they lasted.

Yesterday was Scott's 52nd birthday and I was not prepared. I had no fancy supper or outing planned, no gift purchased, no card, no cake. It had actually slipped my mind for a couple days till Emil said, when he phoned Thursday night to tell me he wanted to come out to the farm this weekend, that he'd bought Scott a birthday card that plays music.

I was feeling a little guilty and trying to rouse myself into doing something special (even if that only meant wearing something sexy!), until it occurred to me to pull out a journal and see how far out of his way Scott had gone on my last birthday. It was a good idea, because I found that he'd handed me a card with $50 in it. There had been no fancy supper, no cake — he hadn't even worn anything sexy.

So I let myself off the hook. I wrote a cheque for $50, stuck it in with Emil's card, added my name, and voila! Birthday taken care of.

Bosom Buddies

2011-09-15T16:59:00.000-06:00

Maggie, of Serendipity is Everywhere, posted a link to a performance of Sisters, which I enjoyed so thoroughly that I went and found the video above, because when I was in a musical theatre group, I did this song with another gal. I think I sang the Bea Arthur part. It's been more than 11 years, so ....

I would love to be able to sing this kind of stuff around here, but who, who, who I say will sing it with me? Who will play the piano? Who knows these songs? Who?

Julie, your package came in the mail and yesterday I put it into the CD player to listen to and forgot about it till today, when I came home from an outing with my niece and got down to the business of washing dishes. Chic Gamine, you say? I had no idea what was going to come out of the speakers, but in only a moment I was dancing and singing along. Now that is the way to do dishes. It makes them a halfway pleasant pastime. Thanks for the treat.

The headsup about the gospel workshop in Saskatoon also arrived via email. I'll be there, for sure. Hoped to be accompanied by my sister Karen but alas the dates don't work for her this time either.

And now, my farmboy has called with a request that I make a beer run before 6 o'clock and rustle up supper for four hungry men to devour when they get off the combines and out of the grain trucks in a couple hours. So off I go to town for the second time today, racking my brain: What should I make? I could pick up a roasted chicken from the Co-op, he tells me. That feels like cheating! Heh.

Better get a move on and figure it out on the way.

From Grandma's Collection of Pitchers (not the ball-playing type)

2011-09-14T23:33:00.001-06:00

We awoke this morning to heavy frost on the grass. The brown-eyed susans, portulaca, cosmos and gazanias are toast, but the sweetpeas are still hangin' in there somehow.

It's time it turned cold, isn't it? There seemed to be lots of complaining about it on the program I listen to when my radio alarm comes on at 7. Lord, people, dress for the weather and suck it up! At least today the hellish wind isn't blowing hard, as it had for the previous two days. That nasty biting wind turned me around and kept me in the house, feeling lethargic. I didn't walk yesterday because of it (Dress for it, and suck it up! Practise what I preach!), and the day before I waited till the wind settled down, thus walking at sunset, not the safest time (but quite lovely) as it's difficult for motorists to see me on the gravel road. Yesterday I wondered if I should put long underwear on (couldn't bear the thought of ski pants, which I wear all winter, in September) and didn't, but could've and wouldn't've regretted it. Today I wore the long underwear and was glad, even though it was a warmer day. Long underwear in September! It doesn't seem right. Oh wait— is this complaining?

Note: Goddamn dog (Sara, who visits occasionally in case I'm going for a walk) caught a duck while we were out this afternoon. I hollered till she dropped it, but it was in water and I wasn't wearing rubber boots, so couldn't go see if it needed help. The duck slunk away (as much as ducks can slink) with its neck low over the water but didn't look very good. Goddamn dogs, anyway. I love 'em, but sometimes I hate 'em.

Fall in Saskatchewan

2011-09-13T12:59:00.000-06:00

Don't Look at Me That Way, Johnny*

2011-09-12T13:59:00.000-06:00

One last hot summer day, in the swing.

There are a couple notes from Johnny Cash in the most recent posting on Letters of Note. He writes a billet à deux to his wife June, and a to-do (and don't do) list for himself. See them HERE.

*title from lyric of Surabaya, a song Bette Midler embedded in my brain many years ago with her Divine Miss M album. I haven't been able to find a video of her singing it on Youtube, but did find this other version that has me smitten:

Or maybe you'd like to see what Kenny Rogers is up to. He's just been at the Kansas State Fair; it appears that Pondering Patsy is a fan: click here.

Did You Miss Me?

2011-09-11T09:24:00.002-06:00

My internet provider has had an equipment failure that kept me offline since Wednesday afternoon.

Scott thought I might suffer from withdrawal, but surprisingly, I haven't. Complaints would have started tomorrow though, had it continued, because by then I would have run out of work that could be done offline.

Harvest is in full swing out here in sweltering heat. Things are supposed to start cooling down today, which will be fine with me. I've enjoyed the beautiful summer but am looking forward to using the oven again without concern about heating up the house. With its new windows and insulation and doors it stays nice and cool in here, and I like to keep it that way when the heat outside makes me dizzy.

Everett's first full day of classes in Edmonton was Wednesday and he was feeling a bit overwhelmed and tired when we spoke by phone in the evening; I told him to eat something and have a nap, and things would soon look better. Hope that bit of motherly advice helped. Well, isn't it true that when your kid is cranky, he usually needs food and sleep? And this fact doesn't change much throughout life, either. Thank goodness Everett's well past needing a diaper change.

Speaking of mothers ... we have a new baby in the family. My cousin Nathan's wife Jacquie gave birth to a little boy so Aunt Reta and Uncle Carl are celebrating down in Phoenix.

And speaking of mothers yet again, my mother's cousin Judy (thanks for making me shed tears first thing in the morning, missy!) sent me the video below. I love the way this performer loves and appreciates his mother ... and does he not have the most beautiful, glowing face?

I have been hoping and praying that the three-year-old boy abducted in BC several days ago would be safely returned to his mother and dad, so was relieved this morning to hear on the radio that he's home safe and sound.

And now I'm off to upload Joanne's blog entries.

Quick & Dirty

2011-09-06T09:52:00.000-06:00

-thanks to Maggie at Serendipity is Everywhere, for alerting me to this music video

Uh huh, I'm on the go. How come there are still so many "shoulds" in a nice quiet life like mine?
I've been up since Scott brought me a cup of black coffee in bed and asked me to make lunch and supper for him to grab in a hurry while he's in the field this afternoon and evening. Fortunately I didn't have to rack my brain long to come up with something to make; pork chops baked slowly in canned mushroom soup were already in my plan for supper, and we have a giant zucchini on the kitchen counter alongside a big bag of fresh corn on the cob. I've stuck the dead pig in the oven, tidied the kitchen and stacked the dishes, swept the kitchen and living room floors, done my Tibetan Rites, and eaten breakfast. I've washed and dressed, and as soon as this radio program about the invention of the vibrator is over, I'm off for a walk, and then to feed the cats, and then I'll come in and do the neverending dishes, and then ... sit here at my desk and work all afternoon.

It'll be hot out there already (it's 9:45); we're having fantastic sunny warm days, perfect for harvest. Technically it's still summer, but as far as I'm concerned it's fall. The oak leaves have begun to turn colour. There were three sandhill cranes in the swaths south of our yard the other day. I've filled the bird feeders in the yard with black sunflower seeds but the birds haven't rediscovered them yet.

- Barb&Deb posted this on their blog, The Middle Ages.

Jacks of All Trades

2011-09-04T10:42:00.000-06:00

Above, Nathan Phillips Square in downtown Toronto is filled with chalk messages in memory of Jack Layton, a man who died too soon.

Below, Jack Duckworth, longtime native of Coronation Street, leaves this mortal coil via a slow waltz with the spirit of his late wife Vera.

Here Comes Fall

2011-09-03T15:05:00.001-06:00

My back yard.

You do not want to know me today. Cranky? Lord t'underin' Jaysus. Might just have to go buy a chocolate bar. That, or hit myself over the head with a hammer. A good brisk walk didn't help. Getting the dishes done didn't do the trick. Bah, humbug.

2011-09-02T10:50:00.001-06:00

From Everett's "baby book." Click to enlarge.

He's off and running, into his new life. I sent him on the bus to his dad's yesterday morning with an undramatic farewell at the depot, and had turned away before actually feeling the jarring finality of it: the fact that he won't be home in a month.

This morning I pulled out his "baby book" (some kids have baby books, my kids have bulging binders) and have been reading through it, chuckling, remembering, and shedding a few tears.

Lord, this kid has been a lot of fun to raise and dammit, I AM going to miss having him around.

Sparrows and a Spaceship Cloud

2011-08-30T10:48:00.003-06:00

Bath time in Foam Lake, Sask

One evening in August, she walked north.

Check out my tarot card for today: click here.
I am going to put my hair in curlers. Not!

Coming and Going

2011-08-29T20:41:00.004-06:00

At Middle Lake, Sask

Next to Highway #5: a Rest Room for the Ladies

Here in Saskatchewan we go out of our way for travellers.

Open 24 hours!

And speaking of strange sights around the province, Trent Deerhorn has posted a photo of what appears to be an extra-terrestrial east of Saskatoon. Lookee here: click. You'll look twice, for sure.

Don't forget to check out the list of links at the bottom of my webpage here. There's some fun and interesting stuff to be found.

And He Could Play and Sing, Too.

2011-08-27T22:00:00.002-06:00

Half 'n' Half

2011-08-26T14:03:00.000-06:00

We never get tired of the ever-changing sky.

Kittenfish

2011-08-25T12:45:00.001-06:00

Beatrix and Birdie.

“Motivation gets you started. Habit keeps you going.” – something like that, Flylady.com

Grimacing through the video Shine Your Sink, an ode to clean kitchens as if they bring with them a host of angels that will help you get to the apparent heaven of a perfect house and orderly life.

And yet, this house is my domain. It’s where I want to be. I want it comfortable, orderly, clean, pleasant. And one must start with the basics, not? And the basics are – food and shelter. Dammit.

***
Everett's message:
Don't dig up.

Crapola

2011-08-24T11:04:00.000-06:00

Junk left between two granaries

It wouldn't hurt to get a truck in here, fill it with old crap and take it to the dump.

Will I ever get around to it? Will Scott?

My guess is: no.

Message from Everett:
Clean up your own messes.

When the Day Breaks

2011-08-23T13:03:00.002-06:00

Walk with Me

2011-08-23T10:32:00.004-06:00

I often drop off my jacket early on.

Occasionally it's just a casual stroll through the old farmyard across the road.

Half the time I head north

That grain elevator is six miles away; see it? Click to enlarge.

My entourage precedes me as we return to the yard

Hot Summer Times

2011-08-22T17:06:00.001-06:00

Scott and his brother Bruce bale behind the house

It's super hot and those poor b_sta_ds are out there working in it.

Bruce flexes his muscles in the evening shade

Cathy has just left; thank goodness for air conditioning in vehicles. Here in the house it remains cool enough for now. The slow cooker's been on the go since noon so we won't wholly escape the heat. With luck things will cool down tonight and we can open up all the windows and let the night air waft through.

Cathy heads back to the city

We had a relaxed time of it. Drove Emil to and from town a couple times so he could visit with Cathy here but sleep in his room at the group home. Swapped a tarot card reading for a massage that put me in tiptop shape — sigh ... wonderful. Had company on yesterday's walk, gotta love that. Drank coffee in the mornings, pear cider in the evenings, tea in the afternoons. Need to do this more often.

2011-08-21T15:32:00.001-06:00

One enchanted evening

I'm visiting with my friend Cathy, and all you get is this lousy picture!

Maggie's Bargain Shop Panties Hang Out

2011-08-20T12:35:00.003-06:00

Maggie with her Bargain Shop Panties

Haven't heard the song yet? Watch the music video here: http://www.littlemisshiggins.com.

I've already pointed you to Maggie's blog, right? If I haven't, here it is: Serendipity Doo-Dah.
Maggie and I have known each other since we were young crones.
I mean, crows:

Guess I should speak for myself

Since we hung out in airports and handed out flowers while chanting and dancing.
Bwa Ha Ha Ha!!!!!!!!
Those were the days weren't they my friend?
You laugh -- I recently found out this was a rumour about me around the area.
Too funny.
Maggie and I met when we did a volunteer tour with Katimavik, a youth program sponsored by the federal government.
We share fond memories and good friends.