Joanne's posted an entry today:
http://goldengrainfarm.blogspot.com/p/out-margo-way_21.html

Off to Town

Second cut. Scott figures his skills are improving.

He even gave Emil a nice mohawk but Emil insisted he didn't want to keep it.

The sun is shining — woo hoo! — and Everett and I are off to town. Since we were there yesterday (he has completed his driving instruction and can soon go for his road test; this could be a good thing, and then again not, for if I have a driver to send off on his own to do my bidding, I might never leave the yard) and picked up groceries, today will be a lazier one than usual, with fewer things to do.

We've found a supplier of fresh farm eggs and today will meet the seller in front of the library to exchange dollars for cartons. I'm thrilled about that, particularly after being reminded of the horrors of factory chicken and egg farms.

And it's a library day. Nothing I've ordered has come in, but I'll still come home with a stack of books.

As for news, not much. Aunt Shirley called this morning looking for a ride to her accountant's in Foam Lake, as my cousin is using her vehicle after getting into an accident with his own. So one of these afternoons I'll be heading south.

Grandma is doing well. She's feeling good and even cracking jokes, I hear. Gotta get up there one day soon.

And, since it's International Woman's Day, here are a few facts you might not be aware of:

A Night Out

Through Fishing Lake First Nation on the way to Foam Lake

Where Scott went into the store for something

And we met Karen and Annella at the bar for steak night

Ancient Cambodia

My friend Cathy is travelling for several months in Asia and at present is seeing the sights with her brother. He is blogging, so go have a look-see.

Here it is:
click here.


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At our house, I've just washed dishes and put a cabbage casserole into the oven for supper. Everett is drying the last of the dishes, and Scott is trimming Emil's beard and mustache. I spent the morning writing letters and need to get busy at an extra project I'm helping with at work. And ... it's time for tea and birdwatching and a walk and the tibetan rites and ... probably a long list of things I "should" do and likely won't ....

On the agenda for tonight is the movie Dinner with Shmucks. Everett plans to make popcorn; if I'm on the ball I'll spend an hour on my quilt while in front of the TV. But I'm not on the ball. Sorry; I've given up on that ideal and am just glad to still be breathing, healthy, warm, clean and happy. I'll never be Superwoman.

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And you?
What are you busy at?
"Curious minds want to know."

Even If You Think You Don't Care for Opera

After this, you'll understand why so many do.

Birds Gear Up for Spring Courtship

So many birds! There are dozens at the feeders at any given time, now ... redpolls, chickadees, woodpeckers and even a couple house sparrows ... but it seems like there are more than there have been all winter. Also, they have started whacking into the picture window again. This is a sign of spring, I've heard, because they are ramping up into dating season, showing off for each other and not paying attention to where they're flying.

S-hooks, here I come! Nothing we've tried so far, to make the birds notice they are approaching glass and not trees, has done the trick. Pretty things attached by putty, hanging in front of the window, don't stay put; nor do the stained-glass hangings we tried. They fall on the ground and break or get run over by the lawnmower. I haven't found those shiny strips of reflective material that scare birds off; don't know where to get them, but experience to date shows that the wind blows foil balls hung on string up and into the eavestroughs, thus blocking the rain runoff. There's a net you can hang in front of the window, but that will be a last resort. First, I'm going to hang chimes and such from S-hooks fastened onto the eavestroughs. Scott doesn't want me to, fearing they will mark up the nice new eavestroughs. But: on one side, the safety of birds; on the other, pristine-looking eavestroughs. Sorry Scott.

Joan and Karen's Quilts

Joan's quilt

You asked to see my sisters' quilts, so here they are. I've been trolling through the old blog (Who does she think she is, Anaïs Nin?) and there they were. Joan, you've got yours finished, right?
Karen made the kind that didn't require quilting, so hers was done in a jiffy. This photo doesn't do it justice, but it's flannel and has these ruffly things between the squares; really nice:

Karen's quilt

Boys about the House

What's he so delighted about?

Little shit.
He jumped out at me when I came through a door, and I shrieked.
He's quite pleased with himself.

Now here, we have Scott working on a sliver in his finger last night after a long hard day:

Note: the television remotes are never out of reach when he sits down in the living room.

Patience

One of these days ....

One Year Since

"Aaaaaaaaah, it's all bullshit anyway...."

Uncle Bruce with my cousin Heather's fella, Lionel, and Scott at the family reunion we had in the summer of 2009.
How many different ways are there to say Holy Shit, It's Been a Year Already?
So I won't.
Instead I'll just point new readers back to Uncle Bruce's obituary.

Kittens and Cutting

Alice

Last summer we had one female cat here on the farm, and she had one litter of kittens out in the barn. They weren't found until Everett came back from his dad's, and by then they were a good size, but he tamed all five of them and now they come right up to the house, prance around the dogs, and sit under my birdfeeders with their whiskers twitching.

Alice is the spitting image of the wild tomcat that I first spotted in the garden before we moved over here. He had an entire saddle of matted fur on his back and you couldn't get near him. This winter he's been in the tractor shed with the cat herd, but makes himself scarce the minute you go in there. He seems to think that if he hides, you won't know he's there.

The kittens were all given names that start with an A, so in the years to come we might be able to remember how old they are. Besides Alice, there's Ace, black as a spade in the card deck, and Ash, a grey tabby. Don't ask me what happened to the other two kittens; something got them, obviously. That's the life of a barn cat. They have total freedom, but with it comes the danger of coyotes and foxes and heaven knows what else.

We should have several litters of kittens around here this spring.



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To make this page download quickly for family members still using dialup, I've changed the settings so that only one entry shows on each page. Alas, now my lists of favourite blogs extend far beneath the end of the one entry, most days. And this bugs me.

I've been trying to ignore it, but that can only go on so long. I know myself; eventually I'll slash and burn, and that list will be drastically shortened. Which I will hate, because how can I pick and choose? I love all the blogs that are listed there.

Even the one written by someone I can hardly stand. (No, it's not you. The writer of that blog is far too self-absorbed ever to read someone else's.) That's right, I read the blog of someone I am sure would make my teeth ache were we to meet in person. I like the photos and the extensive text about a life that seems to be well lived, though the writer has obviously never received the kick in the ass that might have improved the personality. The writer is condescending, arrogant ...

Well enough about that. How often do you hear me say something "bad" about anybody? It's a slippery slope I'd best stay away from.
Needless to say, I'll have no problem deleting the link to that blog.

Anyway, if the link to your blog disappears (has disappeared; I started deleting links right after saving this entry) from that list, now you know the reason why. And also, that I have probably signed up to "Follow" your blog so that I will be notified of your new entries in another way, though it's less convenient for me to keep up with your exciting life via the Follow feature.

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Aunt Reta sent this video about peeling potatoes:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7375897927147969009#
It stars the actress who played Maryanne on Gilligan's Island.

How Things Were Done

little cardboard card

This little announcement card was among Aunt Jean's photo albums that are in my care. I don't know who this Mr Walker was, only that my great-great grandmother was born a Walker and came out West from Ontario. (Reta? Got any info?)

If you click on the bottom card it will enlarge to a readable size. Note how it calls the card an "intimation" instead of an "invitation." You don't hear that nowadays and I wonder if it was common usage in 1930.

inside the card

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Just saw this— its part of Benjamin Franklin's letter to a young man, advising him to get married but, should he insist upon remaining single, then to at least have the good sense to get involved with older women. He gives a number of reasons; here's the best:

5. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part: The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever: So that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry ...
Read it all, here, at Letters of Note.

Winter Can Be Magical, I Tell You

you can see the sparkles, can't you? click to enlarge

Even if it is damn cold.
Even the air is full of sparkles! But the photo doesn't show those.

Maddie

Maddie.  14 inches high
Hand dyed cotton body
Jointed shoulders, elbows, knees and hips.
Mohair hair
Water colour painted face.  Eyes and lips are spot varnished.
New cotton top
Jeans made from recycled denim
Purse made from recycled leather coat
Not shown - matching moccasins made from recycled leather coat.

See yesterday's entry for Jo Ann's contact info, to purchase. $175.


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It must be hard to part with them, eh, Jo Ann?

Jo Ann's Dolls

Grace

Grace is one of my friend Jo Ann Lauder's latest doll creations. Here's a little information about her:
• 14 inches high
• Hand dyed cotton body
• Jointed shoulders, elbows, knees and hips.
• Mohair hair
• Water colour painted face.  Eyes and lips are spot varnished.
• Swarovski crystal necklace
• Dress made from recycled Indian silk scarf
• Not shown - lace slip, panties, black leather flats and clutch purse.

She is for sale for $175 and Jo can be reached at (306) 522-8461 or email her at jlauder AT accesscomm DOT ca.

I'll put photos of the other dolls up as I get time. I have never been a doll collector, but I covet these and think I'm going to start saving up for one. Around Christmas Jo brought out the Frida Kahlo doll she'd made for Cathy B, and I fell in love with it. 

Belle Plaine, and Theo Jansen’s Strandbeests

We went to the Good Luck Diner on Main Street last night for a Chinese food smorg followed by a show sponsored by Shadow House Concerts. Keyboards, standup bass and jazz singer with a gorgeous voice ... they really belonged in a different setting ... a darkened room, without the rattle and clank of cleanup being done in the kitchen.
The singer, originally a local gal from Rose Valley, picked up her guitar once in a while to croon a country tune, which particularly pleased the bluehairs. Her stage name is Belle Plaine and the only disappointment was that she had no CD for sale. I'll be keeping an eye out for that.

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You have got to see these!



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I sneezed once, after laying my head on the pillow last night, and woke up this morning with swollen eyes. What the — ? Who knows? Maybe I'm allergic to something in the chop suey.

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In one of my blog lists — this one under "Around the Planet" — you'll find Owen's blog (Owee58) as he travels around Vietnam. In the most recent entry is his sister, my friend Cathy. Looks like she's enjoying herself.

Happy Happy Horses

I followed up on the horses' new home and got this email, which warms the cockles o' me heart:

Hi Kathy
They are doing fine, getting more and more friendly everyday.  I am going to make the cream colored one my horse, I plan to work with her in the next month, I have named her Meria. The volunteers named the two older mares Mabel and Molly and the grey gelding Dusty and the young gelding Dante.  Dusty already has 2 sponsors (he is so friendly).  We are really enjoying them, they were the life of the rescue on the weekend, everyone was so excited to see them (lol).  Please stop by for a visit if you are in the city,   Take care and say Hi to Scott, tell your father in law they will be well looked after.  Take care.
Bunnie and Lawrence
Have a nice day and Happy Trails

Paradise Stable Horse Rescue.

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Here's an article about the horse-meat industry:

Western Producer article: Canada’s Dirty Little Secret

At the Corner

they watch us

hm...which way to go...

"runnin' like a white-ass deer" (in a joni mitchell song)

to the safety of the bush

My Date with the Dentist

click to enlarge

Heaven-knows a flat-roofed house isn't a very good plan when you live in Saskatchewan, but yesterday as we drove around the streets of Wynyard after my appointment with the dentist, this homeowner's solution stood out. He built a proper roof over top, so the snow will slide off and the summer rain won't pool and his roof won't collapse from the weight.

Very sensible. Looks silly, but isn't. What's silly is to build flat-topped houses anywhere there are several feet of snow every winter. You do see quite a few of them, strangely enough.

And hey. I was nervous as hell about having those wisdom teeth pulled. Even though the roots were straight and it should be a straightforward extraction, I feared the time in the chair and the consequent swelling. Yet lo, the dentist decided only one tooth really needed to go, and had me in and out of that chair in half an hour, and the only painkillers I took were over-the-counter Advil afterward — and I'm not even sure those were necessary, I just took them to be on the safe side.

Isn't it great when an anticipated ordeal turns out not to be one? I never had one moment of discomfort, except maybe for the sensation of the dentist twisting the tooth to get it out— and that was only pressure and sound, that's all.
The dentist pronounced that he'd have had me out of the chair even quicker if my mouth was larger; he has small hands, he said, and still had to figure out how to work inside my not-gaping maw.
"If your husband or kids ever try to tell you you have a big mouth, I'll be here to tell them otherwise," he said.

P-Harmony