So, like most females, I am a woman of ups and downs.

I don't pretend to know how males are. I think my past has proven that I should just give up on that field of knowledge.

I believe that life ought to be a steady movement toward improvement, with periodic setbacks. Because, as we know, there will always be setbacks. We may as well accept it. Life is not all roses.

But sometimes the lack of forward progress isn't due to a "setback" per se. It's not a sickness, or a breakup, or an unforeseen financial disaster. It's just that an accumulation of tiny things seems to impede any sense of improvement, and in fact, seems to be pushing you farther and farther behind. That type of lack of momentum seems to be particularly destructive. It's a slow, inexorable, "why do I even bother" sort of feeling.

The tiny things seem to thrive off one another. Last weekend I decided "OK, enough of this" and I cranked out a really good blog post on what makes a great newsletter. I t was my first issues-type post in a long while. But I was logged both in my Feral By Nature blog in one window, and the Wildrun blog in another, and when I hit "publish" some cruel technological misalignment caused the post to be eaten. I normally can save almost any eaten online data by a skillful dance of windows...but not this time.

So after that wasted hour, I was a victim of "why bother anymore."

Then I've had a couple of good adoptions. Hey, progress! I was out in the cat facility evaluating who might come into the house. Allie? Morgaine?  Then I got an email. A kitten I adopted out mid-summer is coming back. I'm glad the adopter reached out to me (we have a no-questions-asked return policy), but once again...

..."why bother."

I received inquiries from people who want to visit to adopt, so I know I'm not in some dead dark hole by myself, stuck with a zillion cats. There are a number of tasks that wouldn't take too much work do do (clean out the old trucks, shovel them out, pull out the titles, and make them go away) that would give me an enormous sense of accomplishment. I know that.

It's a demon we all fight. The "why bother" demon.

When in doubt, bake chocolate cake

Sometimes, when you feel like you just aren't getting things done, the best thing you could do is bake your favorite thing. In my case, this would be unfrosted chocolate cake.

When I last visited Mom, she made me a gift of some of the old baking tools we had when we were kids, and even another generation before that. When she pulled out the pan, it seemed to me I DISTINCTLY recalled making brownies in that pan in the house in Earlville. Perhaps it was a made-up memory. Perhaps it was some other pan.

Nonetheless, it made me happy, and I was glad to take it home with me. She also gave me a family measuring cup that I was sure I would never use due to the many chips around the rim. But all my measuring cups were dirty because I had made this decadent soup yesterday, and it was carefully pressed into service for water and oil. (A note on the soup, follow the recipe, but add 3/4 cup of mild/medium salsa. Oh, and no rotisserie chicken. I just bought two big chicken breasts and roasted them with salt, pepper, and a little hot sauce. OK, so don't follow the recipe!).

In taking these photos I realized I had photos on my camera that I had not posted yet, so I may as well play clean-up. Gretchen and I hiked up the hill the weekend she came up and helped with the back rooms.

Molly loves a good walk, but her brain cells get a little unhinged on the trip back down the hill, and she did indeed run off into the woods for a good four or five minutes. I finally started to blaze my way into the woods to find her tracks, and asked Gretchen to call her (because Molly loves the attention of other people) when the little monster came zooming back. She got carried the rest of the way down the hill, and from now on, the flexi-leash comes along and she'll be leashed the whole way back home.

Anyone who has ridden a horse knows the syndrome. The horse listens to you while headed away from the house, but once his nose is turned back toward the barn, you'd better know how to ride, because if not, that horse is going where he wants to, not where you want to.

I've decided that there will be no more hunting on my property. I believe in meat-hunting, but frankly, I have yet to find a meat hunter. So far everyone who has hunted here has said they would shoot doe, but they always seem to come down the hill with bucks. The only reason I permit hunting is to reduce the number of doe, and therefore reduce the spring population by three (the doe, and her spring fawns). I don't want my bucks dead. I don't need dead bucks. So--no more. If I find them dead in the snow in the spring, I guess I'll just accept it. The herd seems to be stabilizing anyway, likely due to coyote predation on fawns and sick or starving deer.

The cabin is, therefore, no longer a hunting cabin. I'll have to decide if I'm brave enough to camp up there alone with the bears and other snufflers.

So winter is here. It has been cold. I've watched my wood pile slowly dwindle, and I'll have to give in and order a cord off of somebody before spring.

Enough delaying. It's time to tuck the cats in, and write some thank-you notes. The chocolate cake has served its purpose.

Getting a grown-up house

Owning a big house can be both a challenge and a blessing. A challenge because you need to fill it with something, and to have nice furniture costs money -- money you may not have. It is a blessing because if someone wants to give away something large, other folks may turn it down due to lack of room, and you get it simply by virtue of having the largest space.

My mother is downsizing the size of her furniture in her house, and she has a beautiful kitchen table and chairs. She would like a smaller set so she has more room to move around it. Lucky me, I was the daughter with the space for a table. I was skeptical that it would all fit in the Kitty Kia Soul, but can you believe it all did? That little car is amazing.

Molly's dog crate was going to be too large to remain in the kitchen, so what to do for a door-side stand was an issue. I didn't want to spend $100 or more on a side table, or clutter up the room. Then it occurred to me that I could just match the cubby I had on the other side of the room. Believe it or not, the Unfinished Furniture Store still carried the same cubby 10 years after I purchased the first. I'll paint it to match the wainscoting, like the other. Molly's crate went into the den to replace her bed there, and she seems to like it. She'll probably be happier not being next to the kitchen door when I'm out, anyway, although I liked having her bark when people came to the door.

Just the wood and tile table top probably weighs in at around 125 pounds (or more?) I was barely able to get it into the car and out again.

Here is the new improved kitchen. My house gets closer and closer to looking like a good old middle class American farmhouse.

Thanks, Mom!