Feral By Nature

25 neat tips

2012-01-08T10:23:00.001-05:00

These are really neat. Thank you to Donna, who shared it on Facebook.

New Years Resolution

2012-01-05T20:50:00.006-05:00

To be playing this song on my porch this summer.

And no I never realized Styx had mandolin, accordion, string bass, and tambourine as primary instruments. I don't think I even knew what a mandolin was when I was a teenager listening to Styx.

Years later, with orchestra.

When people get what they wanted...

2012-01-02T20:53:00.001-05:00

You can check our Randy Glasbergen's cartoon's here. He went to school with my sister and always wanted to be a cartoonist. And made it. Every time one of his cartoons pops up in a magazine I'm reading I think, "See, you can become what you dream of being." I'm sure he worked his ass off to do it. Perhaps with naps taken strategically.

Really easy, really good vegetable chili

2012-01-02T12:30:00.004-05:00

The New Yorker recently had a chili recipe that sounded simple and good---and healthy---so I decided to give it a try. I tweaked it a bit because some of the ingredients were the kind of thing you could only find if you lived in...say....New York City...rather than Spencer.

I was really surprised at how good it is. If you like a mildish chili that nonetheless taste like chili and not like some bland chili imitation, you'll like this.

1 quart good-quality chicken broth (their words, not mine). I used water and two bouillon cubes because I can't afford broth if I don't have it in the freezer. H eated in large saucepan.
1 can diced canned tomatoes. I used garlic/onion type
1 TBLS olive oil
1 red bell pepper diced (green is fine if you prefer)
1 onion medium diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 TBLSP chili powder (make sure it isn't old and stale. You know how that goes)
1 teaspoon cumin and oregano (I made it one rounded teaspoon of both)
2 cans black beans drained (I used good quality/organic. I'll try with cheap beans next time)
1 can corn, drained (recipe called for two. I would not suggest it)
1/4 cup Quaker Old Fashioned grits (my addition. I dislike grits on their own, but they are great to add to stew-type soups. They are fortified so it adds nutrients as well)
Black pepper/salt to taste (my addition)
3-4 drops chili hot sauce (my addition)

To add close to serving:
1/8 cup chopped fresh cilantro (optional) (recipe recommended 1/4 cup. That seemed like a "cilantro fanatic's" amount to me and I reduced it).

Saute oil, pepper, onion, garlic, until tender, around 5 minutes
Add cumin, chili pepper, oregano, about 1 minute.
Add beans, tomato, corn, grits to broth in saucepan.
Add sauted veggies to broth in saucepan
Let simmer for 20 minutes or so.
Add 3-4 drops hot chili sauce, salt, pepper. Use restraint. Come back in 10 minutes, taste, and adjust.
About ten minutes before serving, add cilantro.

This was good without the cilantro, if you are not a cilantro fan.

If you like hot chili, I'm sure you can spice this up on your own. Personally, I dislike having to concentrate on recovering from my food while I'm eating it.

This recipe called for 1 oz dark chocolate. Actually, I didn't find that the chocolate added anything to it and dampened to tomato flavor. I would not add it next time.

Feel free to share your chili secrets in comments.

Could use another day or six....is it 2012 yet?

2011-12-26T22:22:00.001-05:00

I did manage to decorate a bit this year, but it never really seemed like Christmas with that capital "C." Suddenly it's over and now I have to decide to take them all down again.

I'm relieved that New Year is a week after Christmas. I feel like I have another whole week of Christmas-past to finish up the holiday tasks that I, blessedly, actually did get started.

Not finished yet, though, so I'm glad that I can mentally stretch Christmas out until next Monday. There will be people who are clearly getting their Christmas cards, not just after Christmas, but MAILED after Christmas.

I am putting all the addresses into databases this year, so that next year should be far simpler. Once again I'm putting on the big girl pants. Here I am, pushing 50, finally getting a Christmas card list in order.

The fence never looked quite right without snow!

The three black bundles of energy are still here. Tortellini was nearly adopted but the home visit didn't pass--a first for me. They are driving the older cats absolutely crazy. It's a good thing I can keep them in the upstairs bedroom at night so the house cat can have some peace and relaxation. They are such lovely cats. I'm going to have to pull out the stops to get them homes.

I almost considered putting up a tree in the house, but I decided the stress of keeping it upright and the ornaments unbroken would ruin the holiday. Instead I installed a smaller tree on the front porch. Since I had no guests for Christmas, far more people enjoyed it out there, anyway. I know I did.

The cats aren't the only ones who get presents from adopters. I'll post more photos when there is better light, but these are the ones that made me laugh. I stole a cat toy from Mary's stash, because I thought the mouse was too cute to get chewed on (he'll go in with my tree ornaments), and Christy and Gordan gave me a tiny fiber optic Christmas tree that is powered off the USB on any computer. It changes color and it makes me smile.

Lynn in NJ sent me these...my favorite of all the silly gifts...

I'm awfully glad they don't have udders and teats! And they are WARM!

Digging out

2011-12-13T23:20:00.001-05:00

I have Wed and Thursday off. I work Friday, then have Saturday-Tuesday off.

I'm not sure I can cope with so much time off in a row! Not to mention the upcoming holidays. I have to make sure I don't let these days slip by. I have kittens who need homes, and projects throughout the house that need to get finished. I've been tripping over lumber in the upstairs hall, and yards of fleece for winter curtains, for weeks---nay, months.

There are also tasks in the cat facility. If Faith sticks in her new home, I plan to move Arthur's big cage into the cat room where it is warmer. If I can find a home for Gawaine, then I would only need to heat the run room and the cat room. I would need to put a cat door in the vestibule door, so when the cats are at liberty they can go into the unheated section.

But first and foremost, the kittens need to get re-homed. The activity level in the house is way too high, and frankly, the senior cats are miserable. I've had eight cats before, but never three young cats at once.

I haven't received a single inquiry about them, which is absolutely out of character for this close to Christmas. Normally I am flooded with emails from people who want to get a family member a gift cat.

I have a creative idea to get them some more publicity. I won't share it now, but I hope to before the end of this weekend.

Tommy, Jewel, and Arthur are off to the veterinarian on Thursday. Tommy especially needs a special home--preferably with no other cats. He just wants to be someone's one-and-only.

One more trip out to the cat facility and then to bed.

Squeak is sick

2011-12-04T16:19:00.002-05:00

Squeak stopped eating awhile ago. He's a tubby, furry cat, who is comfortable lounging around the house, but isn't one for being cuddled and petted unless it is on his own terms. I didn't not notice his weight loss until I managed to pass by him one day and run my hand down his back. He purred and rolled, like he normally does. I could feel his spine--in that way that felt harsh and unfamiliar under my hand. Uh oh.

I was traveling for work two weeks ago. It was a longer stretch--five days. Bear was in the house instead of being allowed to wander outside during the day, and he's a jackass when it comes to Squeak. Squeak is a jackass when it comes to Bear. Instead of just popping Bear in the nose like all the other cats do, Squeak stares. This makes Bear stare back. Stares turn to a confrontation, and Squeak always runs. Bear chases him. There are no outright fights, but it has made Squeak less than his normal happy self. Squeak also dislikes the foster kittens, hissing when they go by. He especially dislikes it if I raise my voice to the kittens, telling them "NO" to get them off the counters, etc. If I raise my voice, Squeak thinks I'm yelling at him, and off he goes.

The other cats are all able to tell when a command isn't directed at them, but Squeak and Molly-the-dog always take it personally.

People are sometimes surprised to learn I have "only" five cats (in addition to the 14 cats for adoption in the cat facility). I've had as many as eight, and in my opinion any more than three cats begins to cause stresses in the household. Two to three cats is optimal.

Some people might say that a few stare-offs "aren't that bad" as long as there are no fights and everyone is using the cat box. But constant harassment, even if no claws are involved, can make life miserable for a shy cat like Squeak. And for a fat cat who already has health issues, five days hiding from an irritated indoor-outdoor cat who can't go outdoors can cause real problems.

I noticed Squeak wasn't coming down to eat treats with the other cats. After a day or two of me tracking him down and laying a pile of Fancy Feast dry in front of his nose, he began eating again with gusto, and I figured all was well. I made sure Bear was out during the day, and even closed Bear up in the great room at night so Squeak could be comfortable hanging out by the fire.

Squeak got skinnier. He began turning up his nose at treats and Fancy Feast.

So, off to the vet we went, and his kidney and liver values are a mess. It looks like Squeak has fatty liver disease. I have been feeding him by syringe, and he hates it. Now any time I look at him sideways he runs away. If I shut him in a room he digs frantically at the door. When I put him in a cage he just howls.

He still loves the wood stove, and he is still drinking, so I make sure I have his food ready to go so when the opportunity arises to scoop him up without trauma, I can feed him. I have hung the screen door that I normally use when I want to keep kittens in the den, so he can't hide upstairs.

I've made more sleeping spots by the fire so they'll be less competition, and Squeak has managed to stake out the dog crate and the ottoman whenever he likes.

We'll see.

Taking advantage of the "over-50F" weather

2011-11-27T09:09:00.001-05:00

When nature gives me weather over 50 degrees, I give myself a paint brush, because it's the last chance I'll get. If I don't get things spruced up now, I'll be staring at them all winter.

Paint for the bench mom gave me last year, and stain for the birdhouse she passed onto me this fall.

Farewell, broken shutter.

And another coat of stain for the steps, cellar doors, cat enclosure, and picnic table before the snow flies.

Well, this is fun...

2011-11-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

Nasty weather just misses us

2011-10-29T19:46:00.001-04:00

I was supposed to help my mom out, cleaning out her gardens for the winter, but the threat of bad weather kept me on my home turf. Of course, this meant the storm would just miss me, although it has made a mess out of Binghamton, so wouldn't have been able to get to mom's easily unless I took the northern route through Cortland.

I did get my snow tires on, fed the Fast Food Ferals and stocked Kat up with food for them for the week. I stopped at Agway for fatwood for the fireplace, and picked up cat food. With the tires in the car there was no room for cat litter, so I'll have to pick that up next week.

I stopped at Kia to get the "required" Kia USB cable to use my iPod in the car, and ordered the window trim piece that flew off on the PA turnpike when I drove to The Animal Law Conference in Philly a few weeks ago. $118 for the part and $91 (one hour) labor to put it on. I think I'll do it myself, thanks, or pay Craig. The cable rang up at $59 until I pointed out it was $38 online from Kia, then suddenly, surprise, it was $42. Computer error! Right. I no longer believe in the goodness of man when I comes to commerce, I'm afraid, especially after my recent experience with fuel oil companies this past year.

I did stop at the West Danby craft fair (the roadside signs worked on me!) and picked up a few small Christmas gifts.

By the time I got home, the snow began to fall, and it's still sifting down. The online scanner for Binghamton bears witness to cars sliding around crashing into things, so while I feel like a wimp, I'm just as glad I didn't go out.

I'm very happy to have the heavy tires back on the car again, and when I buy new summer tires to replace the weenie dealer tires I have, I'll probably buy snows (without studs, of course). As soon as I turned the steering wheel onto Rt 13 it was like driving a different car. It is stable, nimble...and loud, unfortunately. The tires grab the pavement and that little car moves right out.

When I'm in Kost Tire I have to waste some time, which usually means a cheap breakfast at Manos, a stop at the bead store, and a stop at Salvation Army Thrift Store. At the Thrift Store I scored three huge new-looking blue totes that I can turn into cat shelters to give away, and a rather tacky wall hanging of six large wood hearts that I can sand down and put to other purposes---namely "don't let the cat out" signs to hang on the porch, to give away or sell. I'm not big on hearts myself, but the quality of the wood, and the cheap price was too good to pass up. I learned I would be losing my bead store stop, alas, as she is moving to Dewitt Mall (a cool old school in downtown Ithaca) where she'll get much better traffic. Then my cell phone buzzed, and my car was ready.

So much for excitement for the day. It's just me, the scanner, the cats, and lots of housework for the evening.

Loving my screened porch

2011-10-13T22:51:00.000-04:00

I wish I could have done it earlier in the year, but I'm glad I can enjoy these last few nice evenings. The screened porch has cut a lot of work out of my life. There are no pine needles, no leaves, no bugs. I can sit out here with Molly (not with the cats yet...I don't have all the corners fastened down) and rest easy knowing that if a raccoon or bear came trundling up, I'd probably have time to grab her before the critter ripped through.

Molly is a bit more protective and growly now that she can't go busting down the porch stairs on her tie-out to check out every little rustle. She growls at the wind, at pine cones dropping...things she could go investigate before. And I have to say, I leave her on the tie-out, even though she is on the porch with the door shut.

Because I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and sometimes that shut door might not be latched.

It's kind of hard to explain how much more secure just a flimsy bit of screen can make you feel. The porch used to feel exposed--part of the outdoors. I very rarely sat out here after dark. Now it feels like it's part of my territory.

I dread the day I know will come, when windstorm sends a stick flying through it, or one of my cats decides to launch himself up on it. I plan to only let my senior pet cats out here. No crazy kittens. I know what they'll do, and they can have the cat enclosure which is of good solid wire.

I have discovered that there is a veeeery large spider living in one of the tubes of my wind chimes. I never noticed the very small web she had built until this evening when I discovered a spider filling a quarter of it. Yeesh! I've been moving those wind chimes around all week, from hook to hook as I worked putting up the screen, not realizing one of those metal tubes was occupied. I think I shall leave them be. Were it spring, the chimes might get attacked with spider spray. But in a week or two it will be winter, and those cold metal tubes are no place for a spider. It seems somehow sinful to rob a spider of her last warm days on earth, just because I have the heebie jeebies. So I just slowly moved my chair back.

I toyed with the idea of taking a photo tonight, but it would just be harsh with the flash, and I could not convey the sound of the creeks...still full and running, and the unknown things who are peeping, and the owls who call every now and then. Then there are my facility cats, who know I am out here, and periodically they let out a sad meow from their personal windows, still open, hoping I might come over before bedtime.

Some odd bird is calling. It's dark! Who would that be! Peep! Peep! Peep! Peep!

I don't know. I don't mind. I'm just happy to be out here.

In Norwich, as a teenager, I used to sleep on the porch and worried somewhat about passersby wandering up on me behind the heavy vines that grew up the wire trellis. Bear and raccoon were not a concern. It occurs to me I could hang a hammock out here to sleep the night away. I have no worries about humans out here.

I'm not sure what would concern me the most. The bears that might wander by (Molly would bark) or the spiders that could dangle on down. I doubt Molly would have much to say about them.

FINALLY...a screened porch

2011-09-28T08:32:00.000-04:00

A screened porch has been on my list of "dream items." I even had a local contractor come out to give an estimate (plus $3000), and a neighbor/carpenter come out to give an estimate just on framing in the door I'll need. Both were out of my range (although not unreasonable for the work that would be done) so I gave it up.

Then, as a wedding gift, I did some hostessing at the wedding reception of my friends Gail and Jennifer. Their back porch is screened in, and they just put it up themselves without fancy attachments. It looks great. Gail mentioned that they still had a large roll of screen in their basement, and I asked her to come up with a price and I'd buy it.

A few weeks later, she messaged me on Facebook that, because Mark and I had given her a set of dishes EONS ago, they would give me enough screen to do my porch, for free.

Well, there you go. Never underestimate the power of a simple favor.

This weekend I went at my porch. It's not quite done, but it's already reaping benefits. I've been able to sit on my porch without being swarmed by bugs, and after last nights' torrential rains, my porch is dry! Rain has always been blown across the porch so that it is sopping, even though it is a large, roofed porch. Apparently the screen will help keep rain at bay.

Now I will no longer have to rake the leaves of my porch in fall, or shovel it in winter.

I didn't do it all alone, of course. I had help.

Once it's all buttoned up, we'll see how my house cats feel about being able to have morning coffee with me.

LOVE flashmobs...

2011-09-25T00:45:00.002-04:00

Thank you, Nancy!

Busy summer--and it's almost gone!

2011-07-31T18:25:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is August 1. 30 days and we'll be hitting September and what, to my mind, is fall. I've taken a look at my to-do list and my still half-painted house, and in a fit of determination (I almost typed "desperation") I have taken a day off every week through September, to try and get things done before snow flies.

One thing I must do immediately is go out with the loppers and cut down the burdock scattered around the property, before it stops being pretty, and starts being a nuisance.

I did not get a garden planted this year, technically. I started some seedlings...too early, as always. I tucked them into my flower garden instead of the back veggie garden, so I could keep an eye on them. I've been eating grilled zucchini and zucchini bread, and I surely wish my tomatoes would do more than flower!

I had been waiting for my zinnias to blossom in great anticipation. They were supposed to be purple. Well, they ain't. They are pink. Perhaps the soil wasn't right to bring out the blue.

My mother upgraded her sewing machine, and made a present to me of her old one. I have two kicking around here that are old, and have been jammed since our work party a few years ago. It's wonderful to have a sewing machine that's not older than I am!

The sun beating in the front windows of the cat facility is an issue I've been meaning to deal with. I need curtains, and store-bought ones won't do. So I ran out to Joann Fabrics a week or so ago and picked up some bright fleece to help cut the sun, and also hold back the cold this winter. Fleece is the most cat-proof fabric available, and my lazy self also liked the fact that you really don't need to hem it because it doesn't unravel.

However, when I was making the curtains (and I'm no seamstress) I told myself it was time to put my big-girl pants on and do something right for a change, rather than half-assed. So I did sew the seams on all four sides of the curtains, and maybe they'll look a little better and last a little longer.

My swallows have been dive-bombing me for the better part of two months now, without a single baby-beak peeking out of the new nest they built on my pole saw in the barn. I was beginning to believe it was going to be a bad year for the swallows (perhaps insects were killing the fledglings) when I notice little heads peering out at me the other day. Bear is now banned from the outdoors until they have joined their parents in the sky.

It wouldn't feel like summer without a whole line of swallows sitting on the phone line outside.

Beautiful weather. Long to-do list!

2011-07-03T19:14:00.001-04:00

With the arrival of hot and humid weather comes some of the "uck" that goes with cat rescue. Molds and fungus grow, maggots breed, cats shed profusely. Wet food can't be left out. I have become friendly with bleach again, both in the cat facility and my home. Currently I'm giving my kitchen floor it's ten-minute wait under bleach and water. After do the some cat laundry tonight, the bathroom will get the same treatment. Iget complacent over the winter when everything is chilly and bone-dry. It's easy to put off mopping and satisfy yourself with sweeping. But once the furnace or heaters are off the the humidity begins to climb, it's time to stock up on my friend Clorox. All of us in the animal welfare profession keep waiting for that magical day when someone discovers something else that works so well. So far, we are still waiting.

Some people can't abide the smell of bleach and luckily I'm using it in well-ventilated areas, so the smell has dissipated in 24 hours after a serious cleaning, and within an hour or so after a wipe-down. Gone as well are the hundred or so other little sordid smells that we did not notice until they were gone. "Wow, it smells CLEAN in here."

I have been using a small pump-style pesticide/fertilizer sprayer in the cat facility to spray bleach and disinfectant, and it works so well I purchased one for in the house. No more hand-cramps from trying to use a re-purposed glass cleaner bottle. In the cat facility, I can bleach down the falls without a fuss, and then pass over them the next day with a spray of hot water. It means mopping up the floor afterward, but a little more bleach and water never hurt a floor.

The cats are PO'd because I have to restrict their wandering until everything is dried off. Currently poor Tyler is shut out in the cat enclosure because I didn't realize he was out there when I closed the window to cut down on cat traffic.

Trash has to get emptied more often (discarded cat food and summer heat are not compatible), and the trash must be taken to the solid waste facility each and every week.

When I start cleaning floors, I have to cast a critical eyes on what's ON the floors, and whether it's anything worth keeping. I thump-thump-thumped old cat furniture down the stairs to the bottom of the barn. I've re-wrapped the sisel rope on them enough that it's time to say goodbye. Old cat toys---outta here. Old cat beds--also history. The best of them are going through the laundry twice with bleach to be bagged up, awaiting winter again. The cats in the facility prefer stretching out flat on towels, or sleeping in their slings, when the weather is warm.

So that is my July 4 weekend. Tomorrow, the 4th of July holiday, I'm working as a hostess at a lake party, flipping veggie burgers and keeping things picked up. Then Tuesday it's back to work!

Three-day weekends go fast.

Rain by buckets

2011-06-11T19:56:00.000-04:00

It began as a beautiful, although cloudy, morning, and has become an afternoon and evening of pouring rain. Sheets of it, straight down.

I have a trap out for the Shelter Valley kitty (who hasn't been seen since I touched her last week. I guess I should have netted her). I may as well go close it. I doubt she'll venture forth from shelter tonight.

I find myself at a loss for words. I keep thinking "Oh, I should blog," and throughout the day I can "see" myself blogging. But when I have a few minutes that I might sit down, weariness sets in. Boredom. Overwork. Blah, blah, blah. I roll through the real estate ads for houses in Owego, thinking what I need is a life with humans in it, but then I sit here on my porch and realize I'm barely hanging on to a dream. Would I really let it go? I could do cat rescue probably more efficiently and more within my means in a cheap house with a nicely redone garage (although you never know if people might freak and yell "hoarder!" if they see cats peering out of windows. Can you blame them? Opening "to the public" to alleviate those fears would probably require zoning requests that would not be granted.) But from here, should the opportunity arise, I could one day build my small education center and surgery suite for spay/neuter.

I keep thinking there must be a way to put more hours in the day and more money in the bank. Time, especially, seems to drain through my fingers.

I was looking forward to the SACA conference in Jekyll Island this July. The idea of three or four days with good people, and a quiet bike ride on the long empty beaches sustained me through this winter. Unfortunately, the conference has been cancelled--something I only noticed when I visited the web page to verify the time to book my flight and send some shelter visit ideas off to my supervisor.

So I guess I'll just sigh wistfully over last years photos.

The rain is ending. I think I'll jump in the car and go check that trap and close it for the night. Maybe Molly would like to go for a ride.

2011-05-14T11:23:00.001-04:00

What have I been doing for a whole month?

2011-05-04T21:43:00.000-04:00

Watching this...

Fed up with looking like hell

2011-03-31T19:57:00.002-04:00

Getting another cat dumped on me sort of made me snap. I need to find homes for these nice family cats, and in order to do so, I need to have space for nice families to come see them. The rooms in the upstairs of the house worked to some extent, but if the person can't climb stairs, they are out of luck in both the house and the cat facility. And while the downstairs of the barn is painted, it still looks like...a barn. I've grown increasingly sensitive to having people see me as a "cat lady" first and foremost, but I can't help but feel everything LOOKS cat lady-like. Over time, things get shabby, and after you've fixed them six or seven times, it gets old.

However, it's not old to the people who visit. If they walk in and see rope unwinding on the cat furniture, they don't see the six times you've cut it all off and replaced it, or thrown out old cat trees and purchased brand new ones. They see only THAT shabby cat tree.

Today I was walking up to the barn, privately lamenting that the windows, once again, needed to be scraped and painted. A piece of glass fell out of one window awhile ago. It looks like hell.

I walked inside the first floor and the crumbling concrete by the door met my eyes. Sure, I'd done some creative spatter-paint work to disguise the stained 80+ year old floor. Still. The wind whistled around the door itself. It was a barn floor, and a barn door.

Enough.

Cricket and Pauli (the new cat) went into the vet today, and when I drove back into pick Pauli up from his neuter, I went to Lowe's to price sheet vinyl (it'll be $400) and Home Depot for windows. I decided to do the windows first and picked up four. Once I got Pauli settled in at the cat facility, I went into demolition mode and discovered old barns aren't so easy to tear apart. However they do finally succumb to a crowbar, hammer, and Sawzall. Then I discovered the opening were larger than the windows. I only managed to tack the windows up to make sure everything would work out before it got too dark. I'll have to take them down, flash them properly, paint the trim on both sides, and put it all back up again. But they already look so much better. And INSIDE. Wow. What a difference.

Four windows, vinyl on the floor, a new door, and a vestibule so cats can't sneak out. That's the plan.

Tea, Portia, and blogging

2011-03-17T01:13:00.000-04:00

The porch kitty who showed up here awhile ago is now Portia. She had been staying downtairs in the barn cat facility, but I brought her inside to the boarding rooms while I was traveling. It's quiet as heck up here (time to add a radio) so tonight I came up with the camera, a mug of tea, and my netbook to get a photo of her and spend some time.

When I took Portia into the vet to be spayed, I asked them to check for a spay scar. Her fur was entirely too glossy for an unfixed adult female. Sure enough, they found one, so after a combo test and vaccinations, home she came.

I put an ad in the Broader View Weekly (thank you, Karen!) and called Stray Haven, but haven't heard a peep.

Tonight, I finally convinced her to stop rubbing, rolling, and purring and come up on my lap to lay down awhile. As we sat here, I suddenly realized her paws were awfully soft...

Portia is declawed!

What is your story, little girl? How did you get here? Do you belong to one of my neighbors who has not thought to stop by? Did some pissed off boyfriend dump you here because his girlfriend loved you too much? Did your owner die and at-a-loss relatives figured here you'd "find a home" (if the elements didn't kill you first)?

Being declawed will make her much more adoptable. I just don't want to adopt out someone's lost and beloved cat.

Grumble, grumble...more snow

2011-03-07T18:06:00.001-05:00

So, it all melted (well, most of it) and it all came back.

Just in case you were wondering if the truck could get buried even worse than the last storm, the answer is "Yes."

Mental Health Day

2011-02-24T09:55:00.002-05:00

Work has been hectic? How hectic? Hectic enough that I have been told to TAKE A DAY OFF! As if on cue, the Demons of IT decided to demand payment for this generosity by eating our work inbound mail. I spent two days wrestling with the Mothership to get it back, and other coworkers leaped in to answer the resulting backlog.

I have resolved that today will not be wasted staring numbly at the walls, or falling asleep on the couch. This has been a soul-sucking winter, and I cannot let it win. There are so many little things I could do that would remove tiny hurdles that make my day-to-day life incrementally more difficult. Getting rid of them would make my days incrementally better. It is within my ability. ;)

This positive outlook was launched by the adoption of Sir Morgan. Yes, the sweet and Pudgie One found a home, and someone is home all day! So he will have more affection than he will know what to do with. Now if only Tiger Tom could find a similar home. It is good to see Sir Morgan's cage empty. I was going to move Portia upstairs (the black cat who was recently abandoned here), but frankly I think she would rather have all of the first floor to herself and come upstairs for periodic visits, than be caged for half the day upstairs. I'm thinking about moving Coyote downstairs to be with Portia (the black cat the was abandoned before Portia appeared), because it's clear that she doesn't enjoy sharing space with a colony of cats. She's thriving (glossy and fat!) but she's not the laid-back affectionate cat she had been, and I think she would get more adoption notice downstairs as well.

The weather has been brutally cold. We get an occasional sunny day in the 30s, but our days of "thaw" have been limited to one 50-degree day, which is atypical for a NY winter. Normally we get a good 3-5 days of freakishly warm weather some time in January or February. Not this year.

I'd best not waste too much time blogging until I actually have something to blog.

PostNote 10:47 am: After cleaning the cat facility, I left Portia loose upstairs with Coyote, Morgaine, and Gawain. I'd like to get Portia and Coyote used to one another, then Coyote can move downstairs once the weather is warmer and they can greet visitors and hopefully get "first dibs" on folks who would take an adult cat. It's so hard to be a black cat--even a black cat with gorgeous copper eyes like Coyote or the perfect affectionate soul like Portia's.

I am now making cinnamon rolls. Don't get impressed--they are the Pillsbury pop-up type.

Three-day weekend--and trying not to waste it

2011-02-24T04:57:00.000-05:00

Note: I put this in "draft" and never completed it. Sigh.

I think anyone who lives in a snowbound state will admit that February is a pretty lousy month. There is always that hope that winter will miraculously melt away and not come back. Reality, however, keeps knocking, with repeat snowstorms and harsh winds--often the day after a rare gorgeous day in the 50s.

Like today. The harsh day, I mean, after the beautiful warm day.

Not the warm day. That of course fell on a Friday, when most folks are working and wishing they weren't working.

When you work from home, owning a dog is rather like being a smoker who works in an office building. You get free breaks. For some reason, an instant message that "I have to clean the cat box" ("why don't you wait until after work to clean it?") doesn't have the same get-out-of-jail-free impact of "Walking the dog, brb!" You don't have to ASK to walk the dog. You just announce it in IM, and go.

Should I ever part with Molly, I don't think I'll tell anyone she has been adopted into a family with three dog-loving children. I'll still announce "Walking the dog!" and then go cuddle with my cats for fifteen minutes instead. ;)

To be a cat-owner working from home is rather like being an overworked non-smoker at the office, enviously watching those smokers pick up their pack and say "Be just a sec!" on a beautiful sunny day.

Creative fundraising: The Syracuse Symphony Orchestra

2011-02-13T13:32:00.009-05:00

Sometimes you have to pack the old "woe-is-me" away in a box and realize other people have bigger monsters looming. For my sister Linda, this monster is the financial need of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra, which is on the verge of going under. Linda plays piccolo and flute for the SSO.

The symphony has always been a part of my life. All members of my immediate family played instruments when we were young, and I think Linda embodies all of our dreams. There are those who continue playing--and there are more who do not. But we dream of having done so, we embrace and admire those who have.

There were many years it seemed the only time Linda and I ever had a chance to get together was when she was playing in a concert for the SSO or the Society for New Music, and we would rendezvous afterward. Symphony positions are not easy to get. There is only one piccolo. It's not like, if you lose your job, you can just put your resume out on syracusehelpwanted.com It means auditioning (and investing in travel) all over the U.S. should a position open up. It means competing against other incredible musicians who are also fervently seeking the position (Auditions are blind--the judges do not see who is playing, so unlike the Presidency, a pretty face or good interview clothes get you nowhere). It means selling everything you have and moving should you be fortunate enough to get the position. IF you get a position.

You don't make a ton of money in a small-city symphony. You are certainly already doing other things--teaching privately, at local colleges, playing part-time with other orchestras or ensembles--to make ends meet. This all requires incredible organizational and time-management skills, and a damned good car. Not to mention instruments! You don't buy a clarinet in college and play the same one your entire life. No, there will be the progressive moving-up-steps to better instruments (and multiple instruments). There will be wear and damage. There can be theft. It's not a cheap profession by any means.

And then there is the insurance--or rather, the lack of it. As a musician, if you are not lucky enough to have a full-time symphony or college or school position, you are not insured and must pay for this yourself.You will also fall apart a bit. You will sit a lot. Stand a lot. Your hands will suffer from repetitive movements. If you have a toothache and your instrument is a wind instrument, you are in trouble.

The SSO rolled out a "Keep The Music Playing" fund-raising campaign, and have so far have been met their first goal. But it is a huge set of goals. Local businesses have been stepping up with special events and fundraisers (something I hope continues even beyond the campaign--who doesn't want to dress up and socialize before a weekend concert?).

Linda has always been supportive of my work. She adopted two cats from me. She has pitched in for work weekends, and basically has helped keep me sane. When the SSO said "We need money" I went over to their web site and made a donation. It was a drop in the bucket when compared to the need.

When you aren't in a position to give a huge donation to a campaign, one thing you can do that is VITAL--is be a "body." Seriously. If an organization can show photos of a full house at an event, or market "buzz" on the web (generating news articles and keeping the campaign before the public) or say "XX people attended"--someone else will give another donation because they know they are supporting something their community cares about. While the $25 to participate in small events doesn't seem like much, when you multiply it by 100 attendees (bring a friend!) it becomes a sizeable donation. I try to be a "body" when I can. When you are a participant, you almost always get some benefit in return. A meal, the company of other like-minded people you never would have met...

or a tattoo.

The SSO put on Facebook that BioGraphix Tattoo Studio would offer music-themed tattoos for a mere $25 with 100% of the proceeds going to the SSO.

I mentioned to Linda that I was going to come to Syracuse to get one. Linda mentioned this to an SSO marketing person. The SSO marketing person said "Wouldn't it be great if one of our musicians would get one!" Linda said "I will!" Then I got an email from her with the subject line "It's all your fault!"

Now Linda is "inked."

(photo from the Post-Standard)

I wasn't able to get free to join her on Wednesday, but this Saturday I did the morning chores and drove out to Syracuse. Mike, the owner, talked about the other successful fundraisers they have had for autism, cancer, and now the SSO. He and other artists also talked about their children and their musical talents. These guys LOVED their kids. They positively beamed when talking about them. Mike said the fundraiser has been very popular so far, and that one day there were ten people waiting when he arrived. The whole hope, of course, is that people will give a bit more than $25 for their tattoo (I did) and tell others.

So here I am, telling! Maybe a tattoo isn't your style. There will be a lot of future events to choose from. Look around your own community for your own art organizations, historical societies, and other cultural organizations. How many times have you thought "Oh, I should go to that...but maybe next time?"

Perhaps you'll discover, tomorrow, that there are no more "next times."

Linda's is the classic black tattoo with the treble clef and eighth notes (very "piccolo" I thought). When she arrived to see me getting a pair of bass clefs she joked: "Mandolin...Not exactly bass?" I replied that it wasn't likely I'd ever be a good enough mandolin player to make a distinction. I made my choice entirely on the pretty factor. (Apologies for blinding you with our winter-white legs!)

We then navigated the huge Syracuse snowbanks to a local watering hole, where we drank, ate, laughed and had a wonderful time, enjoying a rare evening of brightness in a long and dreary winter.

After we stopped by her house to feed the cats, of course.

I'm happy to look down at my ankle the rest of my life to smile and think of my sister. Let's hope the music never stops playing.

Things I've been meaning to do...house history

2011-02-06T15:05:00.005-05:00

About five years ago (or more) Mark and I found our way down to the Spencer Historical Society (no web page). The volunteer docent on duty took us to their records room and looked up photos and information on our house and the Ferris family who lived here. Woodbridge Ferris was born here.

The docent, who I am fairly certain was also an officer of the Society, said we could have copies for cost. We did not expect them to deliver them right to our door, which they did. We gave them an extra few dollars and also became members. I've tried to keep up the membership since then.

The photos kicked around in a plastic sleeve and we would pull them out from time to time for visitors. One day we got concerned that we might bend or accidentally spill something on them, so we filed them "some place safe," meaning to one day frame them and hang them up. We filed them so safely I was never able to find them again.

Yesterday I was digging through files, getting ready to box some up, when the pile slid over on its side and the sleeve fell out and I snatched them up and scanned them for safekeeping. Later, I was in Ithaca, and went wandering through the Dollar Store. As I passed through the frame aisle, my eyes fell on a frame that, for a mere buck, fit the "feel" of the photos perfectly. Before the photos could turn into yet one more task that I put off, I bought two frames, brought them home, and put the photos up on the wall.

The raccoon photo was given to me by a wonderful older couple in Groton when I was first starting out in wildlife control. They had raccoons living under their bathtub, coming in from under their porch. In addition to paying me, the gentleman gave me the raccoon photo (taken by trip-wire at South Lake in the Adirondacks in the early 1900's), an old oil lamp, and a potted spruce tree which, sadly, did not survive transplanting in the spring.

I put the family kitchen things mom had recently given me up on the shelf since they seemed to fit the theme. I think I'll frame up some other photos of old houses I've lived in and prop them on the shelf as well.

Here is my house now. Well, in warmer times, that is.

The lilac by the gate in the buggy photo is still here, along with the hole for the gate post. I think next spring I'll pound a new post into that hole. Maybe I'll top it with a solar light and a little brass plaque about the lilac and this place. I'd love to get a NYS historical sign announcing the old Ferris Farm as the birthplace of Woodbridge Ferris, but I can't afford $895. Maybe when I retire. ;)

Insta-food for singles

2011-02-05T13:23:00.003-05:00

For a long while I have lamented the fact that frozen and canned food, for the most part, does not come in single-serving sizes. If you buy a frozen bag of broccoli, for example, you better find a way to use all that broccoli in about two weeks, before it starts to get freezer burned and just a little bit stale tasting. Chances are, you may forget about it for a month or more, open it up, look at all the ice crystals, and toss it (unless soup is the intended use).

I often work overtime. I'm supposed to get off at 6:00 pm, and that seldom happens. If I finally shut the computer at 7:30, and the cats also need care, and my house needs cleaning, chances are good I'm not into cooking for a half-hour and washing dishes after. That's when I tend to rummage around for something I can open up, warm up, and eat. Three-quarters of the time, I end up eating half of it, and throwing out food that won't taste so great as a leftover.

It has always peeved me that I could not find spaghetti sauce in small jars or cans. There is nothing more depressing when you've spent half your life using a whole jar to serve two people, to now pour half into your saucepan and put the other half in refrigerator. "Hi!" it says. "By the way, you loser, that guy you thought loved you, well, he's not here any more! He would have been eating this!"

Food should keep it's mouth shut.

Historically, single-serve food has come wrapped in so much trash, eating it is depressing. Here is your little frozen dinner, and over there is all the crap you are throwing out that it came in. I don't need plastic and paper containers to cook out of and eat out of. I own pots and plates, thank you.

Happiness, however, has recently crept in. A few months ago, Lean Cuisine came out with single-serve steamable bags with dinners that are, quite frankly, very good. No plastic bowl. No gobs of unidentifiable half melted "stuff." Well, maybe a little "sauce"--but far less. And less than $3 a dinner. BirdsEye and other brands have done the same. Even the more unhealthful versions (cheese sauce, etc.) at least have vegetables, which is more than you are going to get out of boxed macaroni and cheese or one of those dried rice packages with the bits they call vegetables.

Then last week I discovered that BirdsEye came out with single-serve steamable veggies. Corn, brussels sprouts and the like. Now I no longer have to open up a whole bag when I only want one dinner. When I warm up canned soup, I can throw in a serving of corn and get yet another serving of veggies in that day. When I make something veggie-less (pasta and sauce), I can cut up a serving of sprouts and roast them in the oven or toss them in the wok if the fresh produce in the refrigerator turns out to be less-than-fresh. No one says you have the steam the things. You can treat them just like regular frozen vegetables. In fact, with the brussels sprouts, I would recommend it.

Hunts, happily, has small cans of tomato sauce! Perhaps they always have, and the stores where I shop have not carried them until now. Last night I made spaghetti for myself, rinsed out the empty little can to recycle, and banished the damned talking Prego jar forever.

Then there is the insta-comfort food. Pillsbury makes frozen biscuits. Yeah, yeah, I know you purists out there are rolling your eyes and saying "do you know how easy it is to make biscuits?" Yup! And do you know how depressing it is to make a batch, eat three, and then realize two days later you forgot them and now they are not-so-great tasting? If I decide at 10:00 pm that a biscuit and honey would taste quite nice right then, I can put two frozen biscuits in the oven for 25 minutes and they come out tasting better than anything I could ever make. I was sure they would be flat hockey pucks when I purchased by first bag. No one was more surprised than I when they actually tasted like...biscuits.

Checking ingredients on the bags--most of the "dinners" have additives. Some, most notably the plain vegetables, do not. I'm not sure I'd want to live just on this stuff every day, but it's a step up from what I was eating for "busy food."

Also, life can get pretty meaningless if you never really cook fresh food. Cooking is definitely part of the dinner process. Yes, I'm glad that when I'm busy, I'm not now eating some hideous dried thing out of a box that turns back into food with boiling water and a huge hunk of butter (scary!). But I still find that food tastes better when I've chopped up the kale, and sauted it myself.

I'm not sure if I'm just being more observant, or marketers are getting wiser. There are a lot of single folks out there, and things are too expensive to waste. Less packaging, and decent food without too much crap in it.

Nonetheless, I can't wait until spring, when I can just go out back to pick some dinner fixings. No bags involved.

2011-01-29T13:13:00.035-05:00

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

2011-01-18T23:37:00.004-05:00

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

2011-01-05T07:22:00.002-05:00

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!

Music to fill the vacuum

2010-12-28T23:33:00.002-05:00

I have been living in a total vacuum lately, and I'm sorry I haven't been blogging. I hope to dig my way out soon. In the meantime, enjoy something totally different, and totally beautiful.

Winter clamps its ruthless hands down on Owl Creek

2010-12-11T00:48:00.000-05:00

I used to like winter. I don't much anymore. I guess it's primarily because everything costs money. Fuel oil, wood, electric, snow tires. It's always dark, so I tend not to go out at night. It's dark when I go out to take care of the cats in the morning; it's dark when I go out after work at night.

I celebrate when the first day of winter arrives---not for the sake of winter, but because from then on, the days get longer, and each day is one day closer to spring.

I fired up the woodstove for the first time tonight. I've been holding off so that the wood I have lasts through the coldest part of the year. It's much more bearable in here with the fire going. The temperature stays more constant, rather than going up and down with the furnace. The bedroom is above the den where the stove resides, so it is warmer.

The cats and the dog, of course, are happy because they can bask.

I broke out the Christmas cards, and I've been learning Silent Night on the mandolin. I still can't bring myself to put up a real Christmas tree, but I have my two little artificial trees up.

It's Friday night and I face two days that will go far too fast. But I'll do what I can with them. We all do.

Things always look better when the sun shines.

Hallalujah Chorus Flash Mob

2010-11-28T18:17:00.002-05:00

I love these things!

Honoring the holidays

2010-10-31T23:10:00.001-04:00

I have so much to get done, and using a precious hour to carve a pumpkin seems like an poor way to spend time, but I knew that if I went outside tomorrow and saw that uncarved pumpkin sitting there (the one that was given to me as a gift when I was snagging barn kittens) I would feel like I was letting every tiny bit of fun slip away. So after running into town for an order of wings and watching all the kids in their costumes on the street in Spencer, I came home and carved my pumpkin.

I take no credit for the design, as I totally stole it off a coworker's Facebook page. :)

Then I was about to toss the guts outside to go to the compost and recalled another Facebook post from another friends mentioning that she roasted the pumpkin seeds from her pumpkin yesterday. Mom used to roast the seeds for us when we were kids. So I went online for instructions, and now I'm drinking tea and munching away on seeds as I answer some work mail...and blog.

I'm quite content. Happy Halloween!

Communing with the homestead.

2010-10-27T20:04:00.001-04:00

Today began here with Gillian's passing.

I hope people realize when I write about my angst here, it is no more than the usual human struggle for existence. I realize there are days when we are all miserable, so please suffer me to whine, without worrying.

I find it hard, sometimes, to think back to what the house was like when two of us lived here. It seems like I've done a lot of work on the inside of the house, and yet still there seems to be so much to do. The upstairs has languished for so long. Then I ventured back up (after sleeping downstairs for two years) and took over the guest room. Well, that didn't work out. The guest room is as silent as a tomb and I feel remote from the rest of the house. So I finally moved back into the bedroom. The thing that made it tolerable was pushing the bed right up against the window, like I used to do as a teenager (which is hard to do as a couple, because someone ends up crawling over the other person).

At night the moonlight streams in, and now and then the cats will watch out the window with great intent, and I'll sit up and watch the skunks and deer wandering out around the front yard. No bear yet, though. :) I actually love my bedroom now, and some semblance of "bedtime" has now come back into my life.

When I start boarding cats in the two upstairs bedroom, responsible cat owners would want to see the rooms, which means they will need to tromp through my upstairs as well. This means it's time to prettify the upstairs. So the pile of summer clothes got stored; the tv/dvd was moved from the dresser to the stand behind the bedroom door. Etcetera.

I moved the daybed into the bedroom as well, and the cats now like to hang out there, instead of all sleeping on me. It's quite comfy in here now.

"Doing something" about the house kept me from dealing with the baggage about Gillian. I actually really glad that I got to know her end. It's the best I (or sadly, she) could have hoped for. Every time she has disappeared for a bit, I always wondered if I would see her again, of if that was it. Poof...gone, always to wonder. If the cats were ultimately gone from the compost facility that would end one more source of stress between me and my ex, since he has been left to feed her during the week. So of course, the loss of Gillian is also tied up in the loss of my marriage, and working on the house makes it only so obvious I'm working on it alone. And then I end up reminding myself that it all really is so much better this way.

A mental "blah, blah, blah."

The longer I live here, the more certain I become that there are things I will never ever use. So on to Craigslist they go. Yet sometimes I let the oddest things linger on. The old cat tree is still up against the window in the hallway upstairs, even though a brand new cat tree sits right next to it. I just need to pull the old one out, and bump bump bump it down the stairs. Fifteen minutes max.

Oh well.

At any rate, it was a melancholy day. It almost became a terror-stricken day when Tyler ZOOMED out the front door, straight into Molly. Molly chased him, and Tyler ZOOMED off the porch around the house into the darkness -- smack into the half finished cat enclosure, where I was able to scoop him up before he darted away into the night.

Then once Tyler was safely in--both our hearts pounding--I went out calling for Bear, and immediately heard an animal scream up on the hill. Fox? Cat? I grabbed my coat, shoes, and flashlight, but Bear immediately showed up. I locked out the night with relish, once everyone was safely in.

My phone has been ringing off the hook with political auto-dialers to the point where I want to unplug the damned thing. I thought I was on the do-not-call list, but perhaps I need to do that again. It feels like there is some monster in my kitchen, ringing and ringing and ringing.

The only blessing has been this wonderful weather. I need to force myself to step outside during the day when I am working, or darkness and chill will creep in by 6:00 pm when I'm done, and I'll feel like the last of the warmth of the year has been stolen from me.

Welcome to the garden of mediocre carpentry

2010-10-24T20:14:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, especially when I've had sort of a lousy week, I get kind of numb, take a good hard look around myself and think "Whoa...how did I let that happen?" I'm more likely to kick out a lot of work when I'm sort of down and out. I'm not quite sure why. Probably because my mind is numb too, and the body just says "pick this up; paint that; fix this"...sort of on autopilot.

I have people coming over to see kittens, and I've been cleaning out the upstairs of the house as well, so the porch has become a catch-all. I was walking up my path on Friday and suddenly saw it all with a critical eye. My ex and I had set up our garbage cans in a wooden crate by the door. Who wants their garbage right next to the door? Especially that nasty orange recycling bin. Little bits of this and that were stuffed down inside the slats of the crate.

When my ex moved the front steps to the side of the porch, we never got around to building a rail. He tied the old one onto the side of the steps so our parents would have something to hold onto. And there it stayed. He put artificial turf on the new steps so Sadie, our lame senior dog, wouldn't slip. The carpet looked quite nice at the time. However, Sadie has long since passed on, and the carpet has grown threadbare and holds pine needles, mulch, etc. Molly is quite nimble even on bare steps.

I stopped and stared at this old mess and said to myself "My God, does this not just SCREAM 'cat lady'?" Single old woman in a run-down house. Today I went after all the outside projects I've been putting off. The shutter on the front of the house is too stiff to knock back together, but at least I pulled off the slats that were sagging until I can bring it down and put it all back together again. I got rid of the garbage cans and the old crate, bought four bags of mulch, ripped off the old railing (what were we thinking when we did that?) and put up just a simple rail out of two by fours. I pulled the carpet off, swept the dirt off the boards, and stained the whole thing.

Then of course the heavens opened up and now I need to stain it all again. But at least it doesn't look like hell.

Then I tackled the cat enclosure that has been lying half finished in the grass.

I've been putting it off because I discovered I needed to build a base to make it high enough to clear the window I want it to butt up against. I'm not much of a carpenter, and having to measure and use the circular saw just doesn't thrill me. In my numb mood, the base became "no big deal." I ran out of daylight however, and the screwgun ran out of juice, so I'll have to finish it later. All it needs is some well placed screws, a roof, and shelves, and my indoor kitties can enjoy the sun...er...snow.

I'll post photos of it once I have some daylight.

2010-10-24T10:07:00.003-04:00

see more funny videos

2010-10-23T22:45:00.001-04:00

Moving indoors with the Sunday paper

2010-10-10T09:56:00.001-04:00

It is officially too cold to sit on the porch in the morning with my Sunday paper. A heavy blanket of frost lies over everything. It is supposed to warm up to 70 today, and I'll open up the windows to the cat facility so the felines can enjoy fresh air for these last warm days of the year. Then it's back to winter, electric heat, and dust. Yick.

But yesterday it was beautiful. I have discovered soybeans in the pod. One of the girls ordered them at an Asian restaurant when we were out. I stopped at a tiny farm stand last weekend and there was a quart of soybeans for two bucks. So I took them home and have enjoyed them all week. Basically you just scrub them with salt, throw them in boiling water for 4 minutes, rinse them quickly with cool water (not long, because they are best warm) and then sprinkle the pods with salt. Sit, open them up, and enjoy the beans inside, and the salt on your fingers. For those on a no-salt diet, go on ahead without the salt. Actually, I was eating them in the car after I bought them, raw. But the pods are a bit hard to open without the quick boil.

The first round of kittens who have not been adopted yet are growing rapidly. I got an inquiry on Allie, and it was hard to get her to sit still for a good shot.

I have finally had to admit that my current income will not support the farm and cats. Gretchen is coming over today to help me rip out the carpet in one of (or maybe both? we'll see how it goes) the small bedrooms in my house. These rooms are never used. Until this spring, I never even used them for cats. I'm going to put down vinyl, finish painting the walls, paper the ceilings, and board pet cats. The rooms are entirely separated from my living space (and my cats) by a hallways, and they are nice sunny rooms. Each is 12x14. I'll need to put up ledges on the windows and make them otherwise cat-friendly. Each cat would get an entire room so she would not need to be cages while boarded.

This also means joining a pet boarding association, getting insurance, etc. etc. etc. The nice thing about pet sitting is that--unlike wildlife control--there are affordable software programs to manage them. As long as you input everything, the bookwork takes care of itself.

Each room also has a closet, so I can keep different kinds of cat litter, towels, etc. all close at hand. Funds raised from the cat boarding would go to the cat rescue.

I hope to get just a few regulars--people like myself who travel. Booking would be somewhat limited by the fact that I won't be able to board cats while I'm traveling myself.

So that is today's plan of action. I did manage to get the lawn mowed yesterday, hopefully for the last time. The frost destroyed all the flowers in the flower pots, so I may as well rip those out and put the pots in the barn. And maybe Gretchen and I can stop by Iron Kettle Farm today and I can pick up corn stalks for my window boxes on the cat facility.

If you are thinking "Maybe you wouldn't be so broke if you didn't buy roses for your porch," we'll, you'd be right. But the roses were on sale in Owego for three bucks and I couldn't resist.

Back from Rhode Island

2010-09-12T15:43:00.002-04:00

Fall travel begins. I have a relatively light schedule compared to previous years, because most of my destinations are within driving distance, with the exception of a trip to Texas.

This week I was off to Rhode Island -- a state I must sadly admit I had not visited until now. I think I'll make it a vacation destination someday, since it was easy to get to and the people were so nice. I was spitting distance from the ocean but needed to get home, so alas, I did not put my toes in water.

I did have a great time both at the Adoption Options held at The Potter League for Animals, and out on the town Thursday and Friday nights with our speakers.

One thing I try to do each time I travel with great people, is to buy one affordable but remarkable item that I can fit into my everyday life, to bring me a smile. Smiles are very important to people who live alone. Well, I suppose they are important to all people, but when you live alone, you rely pretty heavily on memories. So in my house I have a prayer flags I got in Virginia, a tiny bowl that holds my coffee spoon each morning, from a local artists' store in Augusta GA , toe-rings from Key West, shell wind-chimes from Jekyll Island--things that tend to cost around $20.

After dinner on Friday we were wandering around the shopping district in Newport, and stumbled into this little boot store. Pia loves her boots, so in we went. There was one affordable pair I would have been happy to wear to Texas, but unfortunately my toes objected. Paul and I wandered over by the door to wait for the others. Some rain boots in abstract colors adorned a rack. Paul is pretty tall and pulled down a short western plastic boot from the topmost shelf. He said, "What about this?"

OK, these were definitely boots that would make me smile, especially since Paul picked them out. Pia walked over. Luckily she has a smaller foot size than I do, because she fell in love as well.

We both walked out laughing with loud, artsy, fun, vinyl, western rain boots (soft and comfortable as can be) and gave all the credit to Paul.

When people's eyes fall to my feet in Ithaca (or in the airport when I travel), I will smile and smile and smile. Maybe I'll even wear them for the next AO.

Thank you Karen, Paul, Steve, and Pia for a wonderful workshop and a great time with friends.

Discovered a new place in Owego

2010-09-06T07:36:00.004-04:00


The rooftop "beergarden" at Tioga Trails in Owego (photo from their web site)

A little brain-dead from two days of adoptions, I wandered down to Owego to meet Gretchen, but our usual watering hole was closed. The Parkview was also closed and dark, so Gretchen suggested Tioga Trails. When we got there, the proprietor started to seat us but then asked if we wanted to "visit the roof now or after" and since I'll take any opportunity to visit any roof at any time, I said "now."

We entered a street-side door that we had previously passed, and climbed up four stories of brand-new steel stairs to a new wooden fenced deck with a covered bar overlooking Owego. The woman behind the bar told us it had only been open two weeks.

It was a beautiful place to spend a September evening, sipping Mojitos ($4, or $2 for a half-sized drink--cute!). Dinner could be ordered from the restaurant below via cellphone (Order "to go" and they'll bring it up. Although you'll ended up eating out of stryofoam, at least your wonderful leftovers were already boxed. The food was excellent - $11.95 for the pasta dishes we had).

Then the crowning touch arrived -- "Ted" the dog, who played dead when you pointed your finger at him, would "shake," and also gave double-pawed "high-fives." Ted scored lots of sweet potato fries off me (I broke them into small pieces as treats) and I got my big-dog fix for the week.

So, all of my local readers, before the cold weather rolls in, I suggest you watch the sun set from the roof of Tioga Trails this month. They are open Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Maybe you'll get to see Ted.

"Ted" at the Tioga Trails rooftop garden (Photo by Gretchen)

New home for the wedding bench

2010-08-31T23:04:00.001-04:00

The summer before Mark left he brought the bench down from the top of the hill so that it could be sanded and repainted. He used the tractor, and I no longer have one, so taking it back up again isn't really an option. I already replaced the bench with two chairs, so I can still watch the horizon with a friend.

But what to do with the bench? It was a wedding gift from our good friends Mike and Teresa. Mike officiated at the wedding. Having it perched on the hill was a perfect place for a Mike and Teresa gift. Just having it sit around the yard like an ornament didn't seem right.

So I sanded and stained it, hauled it into the back of my truck, and drove it down to the road to a little place by the creek where there used to be a log bench that has rotted away. Now our many walkers can sit and enjoy the quiet stream, and I can too.

This seems like a Mike-and-Teresa type place, too.

How to beat the "I-want-to-eat-fresh-vegatables-but-I-always-let-them-rot" blues

2010-08-27T15:35:00.006-04:00

At the store, buy carrots, celery, broccoli, a few onions, a small bag of potatoes, a small package of sausage (Italian or sweet, your preference) and a cake of bird suet (because you ought to, but seldom do). Total, $12 at the Big M in Spencer.

When you get home, throw a load of laundry in the washer. This only takes a sec.

As you unpack your groceries, get out a pot, knife, and a cutting board.

Fill the pot with 3-5 cups of water and put it on "high" on the stovetop.

Peel three of the carrots. Cut them lengthwise, and then chop them into small pieces. Throw them in the pot. Put the rest of the carrots away in the fridge. If there are old carrots in the fridge, pull them out, cut them into a few big pieces, and throw them in a plastic grocery bag or a bowl for compost.

Wash the broccoli. Cut off the tough end of the stems and toss them in the compost bag. Slice off the rest of the stems up the the floral part of the broccoli. Throw the good stems in the pot of water. Break apart the broccoli florets and put them in a ziplock bag so they are ready to munch on them when you are hungry. Put this in the fridge. Look for more old veggies in the fridge to pull out and throw in the compost bag/bowl. Old bread, etc. are also fair game. Don't ask "Is it expired?" Ask "Will I really eat it?" If the answer is "no" throw it out now.

Cut off the entire top of the celery bunch. Throw the top in the compost bag. Wash the whole remaining bunch. Chop off about a cup in small pieces. Throw these in the soup pot. Wrap the celery in foil and put it in the fridge. Pull out the old grody celery you'll find in the vegetable drawer.

Pull out a few of your new potatoes. Hopefully you got some in good enough shape that you don't need to peel them. Wash and cut three potatoes into bite sized pieces. Put the rest of the potatoes away in the cupboard. Look for old potatoes to toss. Throw these in the compost bag. You may need to cut the old potatoes in half so they will rot faster.

Peel and chop up an onion. Throw in the pot. Put the rest of the onions away. (ditto discard old onions you may find...)

Rinse off the cutting board. Take the sausage and cut into 4-5" long pieces. Slit the skin on one piece and put in a small frying pan. Wrap the remaining pieces individually and put in the fridge for future cooking options. Fry up the sausage, breaking it into little pieces.

Put half of the sausage in the soup pot and keep the rest in the pan. By now the soup should be boiling. Turn it down on "low." Don't let it boil over or it will just piss you off, ruining the whole exercise.

Immediately wash up everything you used, wipe down the counters, throw away anything that needs to be thrown away, and put away remaining groceries.

Take the old vegetables and trimmings out to your compost tumbler, compost pile, etc. Bring your suet with you. If you don't have a composter, take the scraps as far from your house as you can and throw them out for the critters. Scatter them, don't dump them in a pile.

Don't do this if you have bears. :)

If you don't have compost or a country back yard, I guess you have to throw the trimmings out. What a pity.

Put the suet in your suet feeder. Fill your bird feeders if they need filling.

Wash your bowl/throw out the plastic bag.

When the soup has been boiling about 45 minutes and the veggies are soft, take it off the heat. Take a smoothie wand and put it in the soup and turn it on for about 10 seconds. This will puree about half the soup, making it thicker. Throw the rest of the sausage in. Turn the soup off if dinner is an hour or less away, then warm up right before dinner. Don't overcook. Freeze the leftovers in dinner-sized portions or save some for lunch the next day.

How will this keep you from wasting your fresh vegetables?

It won't, but when you discover they have rotted in your fridge or cupboard in a few weeks, you can console yourself that at least you got one batch of soup out of them, did your laundry, fed the birds, cleaned your fridge and your pantry (so you won't encounter future nastiness), ate at least part of the broccoli if you remembered it was in the little ziplock bag, picked up your kitchen, and had sausage to use for spaghetti or breakfast.

Your house will also smell good for a day. You will have gotten a nice feeling of accomplishment once everything is done.

Then the future-forgotten veggies won't seem like such a waste.

And it only took a half an hour.

Unless you blogged about it. Then it added another 20 minutes.

How to be alone

2010-08-19T05:10:00.004-04:00

Couch finds second life at Grassroots Festival

2010-07-27T19:41:00.009-04:00

Anyone recognize this?

I'll try and find a photo of it when it was at my place.

Grassroots volunteers were looking for furniture to give a new life to old furniture in a cool way for their musician's lounge. They came and rescued the poor orange couch from my barn. I don't know how much furniture they ended up with, and what the whole lounge looked like, but the couch sure came out great.

I hope it goes home with someone or they use it again next year.

They are looking for similar (ornate wood frame) furniture that needs a second life. If you have any in the Finger Lakes region, let me know and I'll send Stephanie's email address.

Thanks for sending the photo, Stephanie. And I hope everyone who went had a great time at Grassroots.

Blueberries

2010-07-25T18:47:00.004-04:00

I'm not a big fan of blueberries from the store--even so-called 'fresh' ones. It seems like they are always bruised and warm, not to mention expensive. Today I was coming back from Ithaca with a load of cat litter. It has been raining all weekend and I've gotten very little done in the line of house projects. At the "BLUEBERRIES" sign I paused and turned right. I'd been meaning to check this place out for years and today seemed like a good day.

I drove up the hill. And up. And UP. AND UP! I finally found the place, and I was the only one there. The owners came out on their deck and when they heard I only wanted a pint, waved me toward the bushes. "Just go anywhere." I guess if I'd been after gallons they would have sent me to where the most berries were ripe.

Oh, it was beautiful. Rows and rows of blueberries about 1/4 ripe. It was raining just a little bit, the paths were all mowed, and the blueberries just rolled off into my hands. I only had five bucks on me and didn't know how much they were, so I only got about a pint and a half. I came back out to my car, tapped my horn, and the owner came out to weigh my berries. He was only charging $1.85 a pound, and I had less than a pound. I gave him two bucks and told him to keep the change.

If anyone wants lots of blueberries, I'll be happy to help you pick on some cool and cloudy day. I forgot to put a hat on (yes, there were a few deerflies) but picking would go fast.

When I left, I discovered that if I continued to follow the road, it dropped me right at the end of my own road, and it was only three miles home.

I'll be going back.

Dog days of summer

2010-07-25T08:43:00.006-04:00

Literally. Summer and Jack have come to stay for the weekend. They are easy-care dogs (Jack slurps up his four pills along with his dry food). I can't walk three dogs at one time, and Molly has been surprisingly patient about being left clipped on the porch. No barking, no whining.

It's a lousy weekend to have dogs. Hot, humid, rainy. Luckily there have been enough pauses between the showers to walk them, although we had to wait quite awhile yesterday evening. They are good dogs, and it's almost no bother at all to have them here.

Bear doesn't think too much of my impromptu porch gate, made out of a screen door laid on its side. Molly did a classic header right into the screen (bonk!) when I let her run around in the side lawn unclipped and then called her back over. Even though she'd been on the other side of it all day, I guess it didn't occur to her that it was also there when she came back up the steps at full tilt.

That's gotta hurt. But it's hard not to laugh. Don't worry Molly, even humans do it.

Speaking of Bear, he went in for his post-fight-with-Skinny Bear FeLV/FIV test, and (happy days!) was negative. So he got his first FELV vaccination and I'll take him back each month for a retest. I'm sure my vet thinks it's overkill, but I can't imagine what it would be like to wait six months, discover he's positive then, and wonder at what point he started shedding the virus in my house among my other cats. Nope--I'd rather pay $40 a month now with one cat, then drag five of them in later on.

I'm not going to even try to plan what I would do if he tested positive down the line. I guess he'd live in the Great Room or the downstairs of the barn. But at this point it's just not worth wasting brain cells on a future that may not happen.

I watched The Bucket List last night. I should watch more movies. They jerk my brain out of my day-to-day rut. Fiction quite often has good messages. I tend to get down on "media" because TV is so incredibly bad, in general. I don't mind fiction when it is clearly fiction. I do mind contrived "reality" that encourages people to compromise reality in search of a "better story." So when I pop in a movie and get to watch something like The Bucket List that is entirely contrived (you aren't being asked to believe it happened) but has good messages (friendship, discovering yourself and the world, having to go away to learn your greatest gifts are often home), it's sort of a relief. A little mini vacation right in the living room.

I have books to read (thank you Kathy, if you ever do get a chance to read this) but I haven't cracked the open yet. I really should.

On that note, it's Sunday morning and I have lots to do. The birds are impatient for their feeders, and Owlie is yowling his head off in the barn (so glad I have no neighbors!) asking to be released from his quite-spacious run into the nonetheless-much-larger cage room.

He'll have to wait until the kittens romp, first, and I go to Ithaca for cat litter. Oh, poor Owlie!

Reunions, friends, fires

2010-07-18T21:12:00.003-04:00

I am totally tuckered out after a trip back to Norwich for my 30th high school reunion. Sometimes I wonder how the majority of kids survive high school. Now, with most of us safely on the far side of 45 and closing in on 50, so much of the high school angst is gone. Facebook had brought many of us up to date, so it wasn't like walking into a room full of strangers. And then I had a slumber-party-catch-up with Lisa and Sandie, wine glasses in our hands, until 2:00 am. It wasn't nearly long enough, but I do get through DC at least once a year and must make an effort to stop in and see them.

Before the dinner I stopped in for a short visit with Mom, and this morning before I left I picked up my sister Kathy and we had breakfast. I made it to Ithaca around 3:00, fed the Fast Food and South Hill ferals, and then came home and jumped on the lawn tractor. Then it was up to the cat facility to clean and play, and then off to the kennel to get Molly. The house is a wreck and it's been "clean as you go" tonight, grabbing the vacuum cleaner and scooping up loose items to stuff them back where they belong. I rely on my weekends to get things in order for the upcoming week, and that didn't happen!

We have rain coming in again, just as the wood had finally dried out in my firepit, so I treated myself to a fire, bear or no bear. I don't want winter to roll around and feel regretful that I never enjoyed the summer. I started blogging out there, but Molly kept making me nervous by going on the alert, so I finally blew out the torches and left the fire to burn out (yes, dear family, I am keeping an eye on it and will water it out before bedtime)

I think I really need to revisit high school, and my high school friendships. Dig through the yearbook. I was out of touch with everyone in the 90s, and while they were hashing out our high school years, I put them entirely on "hold"---basically I just stuck them in a memory box where I expected them to stay. Therefore I learned far less from high school and those friends than I might have. I guess it's never too late to catch up.

Holiday are good for...things you should have done months ago

2010-07-05T14:53:00.003-04:00

I have today (the Monday following the 4th of July) off. There are of course the tasks that can't be put off - taking care of the cats, mowing the lawn, doing some laundry.

Then there are the tasks I've been putting off for months. July 4 is the Summer Wake-Up Call date. It's all downhill to winter from here. Finishing the paint on the house, doing remedial work on the roof and my unused chimney are summer "to-do-list" items that had better be attended to now, or they won't be attended to at all.

Worse yet are the tasks you actually spent money on months ago because you perceived them as urgent, and then never completed.

On this list I can include the auto-powered air compressor (to fill my truck tires, bike tires, wheelbarrow tire, and two-wheeled cart tires). I purchased this many moons ago because it was VITAL that I have these things to complete my summer tasks.

I never even took it out of the box.

Today I wanted to wheel some wood in my wheelbarrow but the tire was too soft. I wanted to move some pallets out from the barn to the house to start work on the cat enclosure, but the two-wheel cart tires were soft. And I caught sight of my somewhat-squishy silhouette in the mirror today and resolved to get on my bike but...you guessed it.

I dug the brand-new compressor out of my blue truck today, all set to finally fire things up.

Of course, the battery needed to be charged first. 16 hours.

Sigh. The new battery charger is now plugged into the great room outlet, charging, and all my tasks requiring the wheelbarrow, cart, and bike will remain undone another day.

My second purchase was a pair of jackposts for the house and barn, since both are sagging. Bear has pushed the still-boxed post--intended for the house--off the porch rail at least three times. I fish it out of the grass and hoist it back up on the porch rail...but don't install it. The spidery basement may be the cause of my avoidance.

I've tripped over the post in the barn countless times. My excuse there is that I don't want to scare the barn swallow babies out of their nest too soon.

They left their nest today, so that excuse is gone.

Fall is coming, people! What's on your list that you've been putting off?

The rebirth of a happy cat

2010-07-03T09:35:00.002-04:00

As I've mentioned before, since Norma, Nellie's buddy, passed on, Nellie has been including herself in the household instead of remaining upstairs glued to Norma's side. She made Norma's lonely scared-kitty life much better, but it's quite nice to see Nellie get to live a normal pet-kitty life now.

She's a tubby cat (as she wanders over right now with her tail in the air). While she does wrestle with her brother, with everyone else she is affectionate and remains a great hot-water bottle for any cat who wants someone to cuddle up to. Every encounter with another cat usually begins with her walking over and planting a good solid lick on their forehead. In the rare situation where this results in a swat, she just gives them an offended look and stumps off to find someone who will appreciate her ministrations.

She also wants to squeeze into bed with me at night, but she manages to do this while I'm asleep and don't notice, and at least it doesn't result in kitty tiffs, as it did between Ivan and Ditzy.

It's good to see her comfortable.

Visiting an old friend....

2010-07-01T23:18:00.003-04:00

...my dentist.

When a chunk fell out of one of my teeth that had previously had a root canal, I finally sucked it up and called the dentist. I had not been to one in 8 years.

As I he peered at my xrays, I wondered if I might get a small miracle, but it was not to be.

"I expect you know you won't like what I have to say," he mused.

"It's a lost cause, right?" and he said yes, the tooth had to go. I said "Well, it's my own fault."

So I had my first tooth pulled.

Let's just say it's a lot faster than a root canal, and a hell of a lot cheaper, too.

Let's also just say it's good none of you are here, because I am quite tired and grumpy. Excedrin migraine formula works quite well, by the way, but the ups and down as it kicks in and then wears off every six hours is a real bummer.

I can't whine much though, because Sara's husband had three teeth pulled at the end of last week, and I had dinner with a friend who has had three pulled in the past.

However, I will whine a little, 'k?

"The Checklist" revisited

2010-06-29T07:58:00.008-04:00

Some of you may recall that awhile ago I set up a checklist to maintain a sort of minimal functioning sanity. It worked fairly well for awhile, but like all rigid things, fell by the wayside. Fortunately it did pass on a certain rhythm to my days, which was the whole point.

I have since acquired a desire to finish (REALLY finish) my job by 6:00 pm each day (Apologies to colleagues who have now alarmed their mates and pets by guffawing loudly over their morning coffee). I don't mind starting two hours early, but I don't want to continue two hours past quitting time. So the list is coming out again for a major overhaul.

There is a notable difference between the last list and this list. The last list placed "things to do" one at a time. This list recognizes that "one-at-a-time" isn't going to cut it. So it starts out with "Make coffee/wash dishes/pick-up," moves onto "laundry/bathroom," progresses to "birdfeeders/fetch paper" and ends up at "Break on porch/check work messages."

Alas, I'm at "break on porch" and as I try to check my messages, the voice mail system thwarts my good intentions by ringing busy. I now waste five vital minutes calling my work phone from my home phone (and vice versa) to make sure the issue is indeed the voice mail system and not my phones (it is indeed the voice mail).

Curses!! So I shall blog instead, since that also needs to be included on the checklist somewhere.

Post Note: Gremlins at large. The laundry didn't spin out! Oh well. Moving onto "save faxes/take a shower."

More later...

2010-06-26T17:13:00.000-04:00

Discover your impact day...

2010-06-19T00:51:00.011-04:00

This week was Discovery's 25th anniversary, and today was a company-wide day of service. Working from home in the frontier called Central New York, I wasn't near any of the volunteer projects that people were doing around the globe. Discovery had some projects for people who were needed at their desks, so I signed up to make happy cards for kids at The Children’s Inn at NIH. At the main offices they had supplies set up for people to use, but I raided my craft drawer.

Believe it or not, for once I did a simple project and I actually owned everything I needed! Seriously---that never happens. Can it be that I have become organized? Well, I could have used a hole-punch, but I can pick one up tomorrow before I put these in the mail. I even had little kitty charms and tassels.

I printed the kittens off adoptable pets on Petfinder. Here is the real miracle: I didn't even run out of printer ink. Amazing! I even had glossy photo paper. I nearly shocked myself.

I hope my disorganized readers will understand why this was such a pleasant surprise.

Sometimes you can almost feel guilty doing something so simple and enjoyable and calling it "community service." Maybe "community fun?"

If you work with an organization (from work to Scouts) and want to help the Children's Inn, you can learn more here.

Post-note: I now own a $1.99 single-hole punch.

Oh Home Depot...bait and switch...not you?

2010-06-15T21:19:00.003-04:00

Oh yes. There was some sort of pile of tools, or a grill, or something at Home Depot by the door--sign up to win, you know. So I dropped my name in. Today I received this little card. I noted immediately that it didn't say I won anything and figured it was a marketing ploy, but I gave a call.

I did not, of course, get Home Depot. I got some "mumble fast mumble Consulting" whatever. "Mrs. Burke" put me on hold to "look up my information" and came back and asked me how often I shopped at Home Depot. I told her I would be happy to answer her questions if it were only going to take a few minutes, as I was at work. I figured it was just marketing research. Annoying, but necessary for businesses, now and then. She assured me yes, just a few minutes. And she asked if I were familiar with Home Depot's "water mumble mumble." She wasn't really mumbling, but she certainly wasn't telling me about the grill I'd won. She was telling me about a water test. I'm thinking "OK lady, put it in the mail," then she said, get this...

"Would there be a time we could set up where you and your husband, or significant other, would be available so a team could come by...."

...and I realized Home Depot--or whoever had bought the opportunity to plunk a pile of tools down on a table to get the phone numbers of homeowners--was trying to string me in to buy a water filtration system.

I told her thank you but no, I don't let unsolicited strangers into my house and she said, get this "Oh, well you could have a neighbor there if you wanted..."

Wow.

I told her no, and thankfully she said OK so I didn't have to spoil my day by hanging up on her. And of course I stepped to the computer and discovered I was right.

How sad. You think you maybe are in line to get a cheap pack of screwdrivers (and wait all day for 4:00 to call, knowing it's a scam, but maybe...) and your instincts were right. Scam.

Today's recipe

2010-06-15T08:07:00.003-04:00

Ravioli with Spinach Pesto

In the interested of eating better, I've been writing down the very rare recipes that sound good to me when they pop up on Yahoo.

This is one. I hope to make it soon.

Creamed corn pancakes

2010-06-06T22:47:00.005-04:00

I was sulking through my cupboard and refrigerator this evening, grumbling. Nothing to eat. Nothing to eat. Unless I wanted to eat chicken soup -- again (on sale, 50 cents a can last month at the Shur-Save, so I bought about 20). I cast an eye at the cans of creamed corn I had purchased to make scalloped corn. I was just too weary to deal with baking.

I seemed to me I should be able to fry something up, but all the recipes on the internet for "creamed corn pancakes" seemed far too involved. I was able gather some ideas of what, in general, was needed to make corn pancakes stick. I threw together something quite simple:

One small can creamed corn
two eggs
about twelve crackers, crushed
That's it!

I used Multi-Grain Club crackers.
I think next time I would use unsalted saltine crackers.

Mix, spoon onto a medium-hot frying pan, add a tiny bit of pepper while cooking, and there you go.

It made seven small pancakes, which would be enough for two people if you had something else along with it. I didn't, so five of them became dinner for me, and they were quite good. I may throw in some diced fresh tomato next time. Probably all sorts of things could go in there (a bit of spinach, etc.).

The one pancake in the picture looks like it has a bit of tail. In fact it's the cat on the plate. :)

The cats and the dog all requested a bite of the last two pancakes. I gave them a small amount. They would have eaten them all up, but it didn't seem to me that corn was a great option for feline and canine digestive systems.

Memorial Day

2010-05-30T16:58:00.014-04:00

I was driving into Ithaca to feed the cats today, and I slowed down to look over the improvements at Nichols Park in Spencer. While I was idling, I noticed the memorial could use a weeding and some more mulch. I'm woefully under-involved with the Spencer community, so I stopped by Home Depot and picked up a couple of bags of cedar mulch. I spent a very nice hour in a very beautiful park, weeding, mulching, and chatting with the woman who runs the hot dog stand on the sidewalk.

She gave me a free root beer. :)

Here's wishing you a Memorial Day of sunshine and good friends, and please take a moment to attend your local service if you can. It will only take a few moments of your day, and there's no better way to say "thank you" to your local veterans.

Justifying buying a new car...

2010-05-23T12:27:00.005-04:00

Anytime I make a huge purchase, I always suffer buyer's remorse---well, not so much "remorse" as justification. I always worry the day after I buy something I'll learn it cost too much, or is the worst car on the market, etc., especially since I buy sight-unseen.

I was happy to see a couple of articles that indicated (so far!) that I hadn't screwed up buying my Kia. This article rates it as one of the top ten least expensive cars to own.

This one really made me laugh. This article tells you which affordable cars will make you look rich, and the Kia Soul tops the list.

I haven't yet seen another Soul on the road since I bought this one. I have been approached twice by people who are thinking about buying one, and wanted my feedback. I had to admit A) I love the car but B) don't hit any potholes or you'll break a tooth, and C) the stripped-down version is great. In fact, I find it a lot classier that some of the "upscale" models.

Of course, then there is the Best Automotive Ad of the Year" award.

Silly dreams, quickly made, quickly dashed

2010-05-16T22:35:00.008-04:00

When I was in Ithaca I took a quick drive around Taber Street to check Nancy's parking lot to see if maybe she were grooming a Sunday dog. I came to an immediate halt when I saw the For Sale sign in front of this old place.

Back in the 80s I picked up a hit-by-car toy poodle way down on Elmira Road by the car wash, with tags that gave this address. I was met by an elderly gentleman who insisted his dog was in his fenced yard. He went out into the yard calling and calling while I stood there in tears, because his dog was in my van, dead. He finally came out to look, and he totally broke down. When he asked for me to take her because he could not bury her, I gave him the poodle's collar, said I was sorry, and drove away. That old gentleman's grief has always haunted me.

I stopped and walked around the house. What had, back then, been a front porch was now a glassed in extension. The lot was fairly large (there was a second house there back when I visited in the 80s) with a shed just like the one I used to have for a cat facility in West Danby. The yard sloped down to one of the inlet channels, and the water was dark and quiet, shaded by trees. It was a suitable spot for a dock, if legal. It was clearly in the flood zone, but the house itself was up on a four foot high foundation. There was more than enough room for another building for the cats.

I began wondering what it would be like to sell the farm, invest in this little place, and be able to plop a kayak in the inlet anytime I wanted, bike to stores, visit friends for lunch, take care of the ferals without a two hour time-investment, etc.

After wandering around, checking the foundation, and peeking in the windows, I called the Realtor. Sadly, the house is part of a four parcel bundle in the seven digit range.

4. 812-814 Taber Street 1,058 sq. ft. This white stucco two story 3 bedroom, 2 bath home is on a double lot with wonderful green space ideal for outdoor meetings. It also has waterfront access. It would be possible to install a dock on this parcel. The house is cleaned out and could be leased as office space for a variety of small businesses. Future development possibilities when combined with adjacent lots.

There is another matching house around the corner for $80,000, but while it looks out over the inlet, it doesn't have water access right on the property, which is all of the charm of the other house. It is a cute house, but I'm not in the market for a cute house. I'm in the market for a lifestyle.

What a pity. Nonetheless, it's always fun to dream.

But then I came home and, sitting on the porch, listened to the birds off in the woods, and was actually quite glad the house was not available. I won't be able to stay here forever by myself, but I can enjoy it for a long while.

Comfort food of spring -- Rhubarb

2010-05-16T20:48:00.007-04:00

I ran into Alice in Wegman's today ("mom" to Elvis and formerly-Lulu, whose adult name I am spacing on). I offered her a rhubarb plant, as I have three on the flat I need to move, and I don't really need five producing plants and can easily spare one. She reminded me of the rhubarb crumble recipe she had sent me last year. Of course, I have lost it, but I found one on the internet.

Sadly, I took two large bunches of rhubarb over to my mom and my sister last week, and then forgot it in the car. Maybe I can get some more over to them before the season ends.

Rhubarb crumble is like a crisp, made with chopped rhubarb, orange juice, cinnamon, butter, and oat-butter topping.

Cook Time: 40 minutes, 375F
Total Time: 40 minutes

Ingredients:

* 3 cups chopped rhubarb
* 2 tablespoons orange juice
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar
* 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
* 1 tablespoons butter, cut in small pieces

* Crumble Mixture:
* 1/4 cup melted butter
* 1/3 cup brown sugar
* 2/3 cup sifted all-purpose flour
* 1/8 teaspoon salt
* 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
* 2/3 cup quick cooking oats

Preparation:

Arrange diced rhubarb in a buttered 8-inch square baking dish. Sprinkle with orange juice, 3/4 cup sugar, cinnamon, then dot with the 1 tablespoon of cut up butter.

Combine melted butter with brown sugar. Sift together the flour, salt, and baking soda; mix with oats. Combine the flour oat mixture with the brown sugar and melted butter mixture. Spread over rhubarb. Bake at 375 degrees for 40 minutes. Serve warm, with ice cream or whipped topping.

Gardening, our personal metaphor for life.

2010-05-09T13:24:00.007-04:00

I was wacking away at my garden the other day, wondering why humans are so addicted to the pastime. I remember when I put in my first massive perennial garden. It was gorgeous the first year. It was gorgeous the second year. The third year, it needed to be divided and reorganized---requiring more work than putting it in to begin with.

My flower garden in this house consists of a long hedge of lavender (flowers twice a year, has pretty gray/green foliage, and you can chop the heck out of it almost any time) and spring bulbs. I have window boxes on the cat facility that I dote over. That's it! A small amount of effort for an effect that gives me great joy.

Then there is the vegetable garden. Wowee zowie, what a mess.

First of all, however, let me sing my ode to Rhubarb, nature's freebie. You can neglect the hell out of this plant, and it will give and give and give. Some day, I long to be as generous as rhubarb. Bless this plant, it will provide enough for you and all your friends. All of my plants came from Mark's dad.

I have had a veggie garden ever since I've been a part-landowner. The first year we had the Station Road house, we put in a great little garden, but I really don't recall what we ate out of it. The garden here at this house in Spencer has never been that productive, primary due to the devastation of deer and weeds (i.e too many working/business hours, not enough home/garden hours). I do recall a lovely Saturday morning when we shelled peas from his garden--just enough for one dinner, and for snacking as we shelled.

Nonetheless, while I don't remember anything I ate out of the first Station Road garden (although I know it produced), I specifically remember eating one thing out of the current garden The Year The Husband Left, and that was kale. I think the kale plants, which churned out leaves for me even as the snow fell, kept me alive that year. Not so much because the plants gave me nourishment, but because they kept on giving even though they were entirely neglected out there.

The first year sans husband, I was determined to keep the garden going, but that fell flat pretty quickly, since I was managing the entire place with a push mower. The second year I was going pretty well until I accidentally slaughtered a family of baby bunnies trying to keep up with the grass inside the fenced area.

This year NYS brought us an early spring, so the weeds really got going. However, I am out of my desperation mode now and into a Victory Garden (i.e. Austerity Budget) view on life. I'll grow kale next to burdock if I have to.

I carved out one spot at a time in the raised bed, to get the kale in. Then I slowly got rid of all the rest of the weeds to plant seeds. In the gap between each of the frames I planted sunflowers.

The grass is an ever-present enemy, but now I have a working John Deere tractor in addition to the push mower.

There once was a time when, if the garden hadn't been "perfect," I would have felt it was a failure. But after picking kale out of the snow--the only plant that lived, but LIVE IT DID!--I'll gladly carve bits of success out of the the Great Wild Lands. Maybe one day I'll have a big beautiful garden, but right now I'll be happy with a little bit of kale and whatever else makes it.

We all have reasons why we garden. Our gardens--or lack of one due to our dedication to other things--are ourselves.

I'm a big girl now...

2010-05-01T01:01:00.001-04:00

...and I have moved back to an upstairs bedroom rather than sleeping downstairs in the den. This is mostly prompted by my back, that has decided to object to a squishy twin bed full of cats and rather impatiently demanded a firm double bed. It is also partially prompted by the need to move on.

The cats do not much like the front bedroom. The only cat that has seen fit to join me is Wiggles. Hopefully Ivan will find his way up.

I may fall asleep posting this...

2010-04-12T23:51:00.004-04:00

I got a bit farther on the cellar door. To work on it I had to venture into the section of the barn I inherited, and finally begin tackling the creation of a real woodshop. Boy, do I have a long way to go.

Mostly I need to just clean, and create places to store tools, which shouldn't be too hard since I hardly own any at all. I have all this SPACE!

I also found this platform rocker up in the haymow. It was left behind, I assume on purpose, so I guess it is mine now. Now it will be a place where I sit on the porch when I take a break from projects this summer.

But now it's time to sleep... I'll fix the typos in the morning.

Recognizing frustration in others....

2010-04-06T07:01:00.015-04:00

...and trying to keep your own attitude in check.

On Easter Sunday I was early for our family rendezvous at a restaurant near Greene, so I stopped at a Big Box store to walk the pup. After causing a racket of frantic barking when every car-bound dog noticed another of their clan was FREE (albeit leashed) in the sunshine, I put Molly back and wandered into the garden center. Which was a mistake. I figured I was safe because I already had pansies for the cat facility window boxes (and I don't invest in any other annuals anymore) but then I noticed the bleeding hearts. It occurred to me that I didn't have any bleeding hearts at all on the farm, and they would be perfect for the cat garden, which is damp and shaded.

The plants were a little under-watered. They weren't entirely dry, but given that most were in bloom and they are a fairly delicate plant, water is pretty much what gives them any rigidity at all. I carefully picked out two plants that had buds rather than flowers. As I used to manage a greenhouse and have some gardening experience, I'm fairly familiar with what plants are best to get in bloom, and which are better to purchase while they are still growing, if you wish to enjoy them.

I cheerfully paid for them and because the plants were facing ten hours in a warm car, asked if I could water them before I left.

Oh, mistake.

The cashier gave me sort of a surprised, guilty, and almost offended look. Oops! Even though I had been pleased and smiling (how can you not smile when you have just gifted yourself with plants) I realized I apparently had made a mistake. I discovered quickly that there was no spigot and hose I could quickly step to myself to water my plants before I left. Instead, the garden center has a water cart, which luckily was close by.

The cashier called out to the woman manning the water cart, announcing that "this lady would like her plants watered." The water cart person also straightened up with just the slightest flash of affront, and then quickly cast her eyes around the garden center.

Then I "got it." By asking for water, I had insinuated the plants were dry and they were not doing their jobs. And this was something they had apparently been reprimanded for, many times, by someone. Even, it was likely, when the plants were not dangerously dry, but were just between waterings.

It was clear that a customer suggesting a plant needed water, no matter how politely, was not a good thing.

I walked over with my two plants and the water cart person took them from me and said "They aren't really dry." She started scooping soil out of the plants. Almost violently, down about four inches into the pot. "See? They are moist. See?"

I realized we also apparently had a group of employees who probably were managed in a rather heavy-handed manner. I could just hear the "don't get me in trouble, lady" tone in her voice. The soil-scooping seemed not to be for my benefit, but for some other audience. I began to wonder if there were video cameras somewhere.

She clearly wasn't a rude person, but something about her was giving off paranoid vibes that began to make her seem rude.

She watered the plants. And then, loudly, she said "These don't have many flowers. There are plants with far more flowers started than these, you know." Again, that tone. The tone of a woman who perhaps had been ordered about by customers demanding help picking out forty marigolds with as many blooms as possible? ("No, not that one. THAT one!")

I wasn't hearing "Here, is this helpful to you?" I was hearing "See everybody? I'm being HELPFUL!" And I began to wonder what it was like to work there everyday if this is what it did to you.

I instantly knew that saying "Actually, with delicate perennials that are going to be stressed by travel, it's better not to choose a plant with a lot of mature flowers" would probably not be a good idea. So I just smilingly said "These are fine. Thanks for watering them. They are going to be in the car while visiting my mom for awhile so I wanted to be sure they didn't dry out if it got too warm."

Surely if anyone was around to overhear, that would take care of the "customer thinks the plants aren't properly cared for" vibes?

She came back with "Really. How long ARE you visiting your mother?"

Interpreting human conversation is always such a joy. Had she said "How nice! How long will you be visiting? Would you be able to set them outside the car if it gets too hot?" she would clearly be communicating her concern for my plant investment. But instead I was still getting the "you'd have to be driving for three days for this plant to really dry out" vibrations off her.

She finished watering the plants, hoisted them up and opened her mouth and I said "And it's fine if they drip. I have a plastic bag I can put them in in the car" (even though I didn't) and her mouth immediately snapped shut. Apparently I had correctly identified her next concern for my watering decision.

For those who have been behind me in Walmart while I mutter angrily to myself after having my receipt checked to be sure I haven't shoplifted eight bags of cat litter (you know who you are!) I am proud to announce that my outlook on life has improved such that I did not make any parking-lot comments when the plants failed to drip at all during my walk to my car -- evidence that they indeed needed their extra shot of water. Instead I continued to experience that mild curiosity about what would make those employees so paranoid that their customer service was worse--not better, when confronted with a simple request.

Sadly, I failed to keep my mouth shut at the crowded buffet later that day, when people headed back and forth between the buffet line and their own tables got backed up because the restaurant had placed one large table right in the traffic zone. Because I have this problem with letting things that run through my mind spill out my mouth, I said aloud to myself "well, THAT table should go"--right behind an overworked server, who sort of turned her overworked head back toward me and said "Well, when you are serving 600 people, you need all the tables you can get."

(This is probably the kind of comment I would have made in the same situation)

Oh HOW I wanted to say "Well, perhaps you shouldn't be trying to seat 600 people if your restaurant won't fit them" but instead realized that probably 700 people had called for reservations over the past two months, and probably at least 50 of them had whined rudely about not getting a seat so I said "Yes, and I'm sure it's hard to tell how the traffic pattern is going to work out until people actually get here and start serving themselves" instead of a snarky "How many years have you guys been having this Easter buffet? Shouldn't you have it down by now?"

She smiled, recognizing that I was trying to cool down my unwise comment. I smiled, recognizing that she was accepting my unspoken apology. Kindred spirits.

Besides, the food was excellent, the location was convenient, the servers were wonderful, and who the heck really cares if you spend an extra ten seconds letting people through a bottleneck? It's Easter! Smile, say "Hi!" and keep your lip buttoned, Susan!

Really, my friends, I'm TRYING to get better! Someday I shall be one of those wise old women who just nod their heads knowingly, but who manage to also have a look on their face that accurately but somehow politely communicates their approval or disdain.

I'm not there yet. I may need a couple more decades to get even close.

Spring.

2010-04-04T10:55:00.003-04:00

Come the first warm day of spring when I have a few free hours, what is the first task to be done?

Start preparing for next winter.

I stacked the "green" wood I had delivered last fall, now that the dry wood in that particular stack has all been burned. In a month or so I'll order three more cords, and I'll be set for next year. The pile was covering daffodils that were desperate to come up.

Other unrestrained daffodils opened up today for Easter.

I had all sorts of plan for a "ant versus grasshopper" sort of post today, but I received word via Facebook that Jack is lost from his home in Ithaca, so the joy is really off this day now. The photo of my instruments below was going to be the "grasshopper" part of my work versus play post. But frankly, I started playing again because to play an instrument means you can't think of anything else. I love rescuing cats, but it wasn't enough to detach myself from thinking about my ex. While cleaning, driving, trapping, combing, etc. I was always thinking about it. You can't think about such things when you are playing. And the cat rescue itself brings pain, at unexpected times. And because I won't let myself cry anymore over being abandoned, I do find I cry about other things (more worthy things). So I need something else that is simple in itself, but takes every bit on concentration, and takes away any kind of grief, for a little while at least.

Come home safely, Jack, and all cats that are lost or abandoned.

Just me, my mandolin, and my mutt

2010-04-03T10:25:00.003-04:00

...and my netbook, and my digital camera, and a cat or two...

What a beautiful morning! After weeks of travel and generally not-feeling-relaxed, I have this gift of a Saturday before Easter that is sunny and warm. Two guys stopped by during the week asking to pick up all the miscellaneous metal in my fields, and did such a good job I have this vicarious feeling of accomplishment as I sit here on my porch gazing over a junk-free (mostly) property. They took every teeny-tiny piece of crap--not just big piecesthat have a lot of weight value. Before coming to my door, they even crawled down into the gorge up Morfit Road and hauled out all the old hot water heaters, etc. that people have dumped down there. They were smart young men to not ask permission first, since I would have had to tell them "no" for liability reasons. I took a walk up yesterday with Molly (too bad old tires aren't worth money) and could not believe what they managed to haul out. I guess now I have no excuse not to fish out all those tires on my own.

After my cup of coffee and some doodling around on my porch with the mandolin, it's time to go spend some serious hours with the cats and fill their window boxes with pansies I scooped up in a hurry when I was in Ithaca picking up Faith yesterday. The goldfinches have joined the chickadees at the birdfeeders. I can hear the blackbirds and the phoebes.

I so love living out here.

Can you say "stupid"?

2010-03-30T22:51:00.008-04:00

So you are a Responsible News Reporter and are a role model for young and old. And you do something like this to report on the flooding in RI:

I'm never quite sure what is supposed to be accomplished by this. Is there anyone who doesn't think "That has to be one of the most stupid things I've ever seen?" Did he really want to be in there or, as he strode out the door with a camera crew, did a boss yell out "Hey, don't forget your waders. It would be great if you could get soaking wet and put yourself at risk by wading in the flood waters when you give your report. Maybe you'll also teach people it's OK to wade through waist-high floodwater when they absolutely don't have to"

I wonder what emergency response folks think when they see something like this.

I finally reach the final straw concerning vehicles

2010-03-30T05:44:00.006-04:00

Two weeks ago I was filling the white truck up with gas, pushed the nozzle hard into the intake, and suddenly experienced a toxic spill. The pipe between the intake and gas tank had rotted out.

Luckily it was not the gas tank and when I turned the gas off, the leak stopped. The station manager gave me (and did not make me buy!) a bag of cat litter to sop it up.

Can you believe I did not have a bag of my own in the back of the truck?

But it was the last straw. I had been planning on driving the truck to New Jersey for work. Work would pay for a rental car but -- living in the country -- getting TO a rental car is no easy feat, and I couldn't leave a potentially-leaking truck in an airport parking lot.

So when I got home, I slammed down my keys and picked up the phone.

Most people would have heart attacks over the way I buy a vehicle. A) it needs to be new. New vehicles have been a God-send to me. They last well over 10 years, and after they are paid off, they are excellent collateral if you are ever in a financial bind. Having no vehicle payments has been wonderful, but having to call the tow truck twice in the past half year, and foster/friend/mechanic Craig to bail me out countless times, has not been so great. B) I tell the dealer what I want and say "call me when you find it." I'm not playing games, okay? C) I feel I do enough research online and with other owners, that I will buy a vehicle sight-unseen.

I have been looking online for vehicles for almost a year now, and had decided on either a Ford Transit Connect truck ($22,000) or a Kia Soul ($14,000). I had stopped to look a Transit Connect just the day before in Ithaca, and probably had a salesperson come out to accost me, I would have made the very-expensive-and-probably-unwise decision to buy one. But they didn't. So I didn't. Whew.

As much as I wanted a truck (especially one I could practically live in) I knew a new vehicle was going to be stretching the budget to the max, so I called the only Kia dealer in my area.

Luckily I got a salesman who "got it." Seriously, really "got it." Well, there was that moment when I said I wanted a base model and he said "Oh, we have one here. Well, it has a sunroof and the audio packages" and I said "How much?" and he said "$16,500" and I said, simply, "No." From then on, it was smooth sailing.

Yes, I bought a car over the phone. I told him to find me a black, base model Kia Soul, by the end of the next day. Well, we did have that second moment when he called back and said I could "pick it up on the weekend" and I said the whole point of buying a car was because I needed it BEFORE the weekend--but you know? He got it. I faxed over my license and insurance card. Once he realized I was serious about the "next day" thing, he even used his day off to make sure that car got picked up, delivered, and inspected before 5pm.

Getting to the car was another matter. I probably should have taken the plates from the blue truck, but I took them from the white truck because I was going to have to leave whatever vehicle I drove over, until I got back from my work trip. So only the blue truck was legal to drive. However, the blue truck decided it wasn't interested in moving smoothly. I started her up about ten times during the day only to have her stall out. Luckily, right before I was ready to go, she roared to life and purred like a kitten.

(I wonder if she will when I try to get her home?)

I met the salesman at 7pm to sign the paperwork, and after a short conversation with my insurance company, lots of signatures, and a check, I had a car.

Then there was the moment of truth. Would I LIKE it?

When they brought the car around I experienced a huge sigh of relief. The Kia Soul is much bigger than it appears online. It's rather like a RAV-4 without the "4." It's almost as high as a small truck. And the inside is sensible. Things are where you expect them to be. There are no cupholders in odd places or window controls in the middle of the dash instead of on the door. The only complaint I have is that all the door locks (inside and out) are operated via the driver's side door via a manual key. So to open the hatch you have to open the front door and hit the unlock button.

This is, of course, how they get you to move up to the non-base car for $16-18K.

Off we went to NJ, and then two days later to VA. Sure, it's no Lexus, and I'm glad I got the standard, because I'm betting the automatic is pretty wimpy (even with a larger engine). But it's a darned good little tall hatchback.

I enjoyed the back seats for the two trips, but shortly they will come out and I'll get a rubberized carpet for the back. Currently I could fit perhaps ONE trapped cat in the hatch, and that's not going to cut it. I've lived with two seats for around 20 years, and I can continue to do so.

I still have the two trucks, and am waffling on what to do with them. Do I keep one, or sell them both for scrap? It would be nice to have a truck for trash-and-big-object hauling (otherwise I'll have to take trash in every single week with the small Kia) but is it worth the extra insurance cost?

I'll let you know.

It's trying to be spring in Spencer

2010-03-13T22:05:00.006-05:00

Saturday after payday is historically "go buy a ton of cat food and cat litter" day. I've stopped paying any attention to the funny looks people give me when I load up my cart with bag after bag of cat litter at Walmart. I usually make a point of wearing a jacket or clothing with "Americancat.net" emblazoned on it, but not many people are looking at my clothes. They are staring at the cart and wondering how many cats that lady must have to need all that cat litter?

In fact, I could get by with far less cat litter per trip, if for some reason I wanted to venture into Walmart every single week. But the more I load up with, the less often I need to visit the place. If I see a floor worker, I'll even ask for a flat cart and a strong arm and we'll walk out of there with 30 bags and I may be able to stay away for almost two months!

On these days I just write out checks or swipe the card and just keep a general balance of how much I'm spending, and add it all up when I get home. I no longer snarl or whine when prices go up. There's nothing to be done.

My raise at work came through this week, so I snagged a new cat bed to celebrate. The more cat beds I have for my house cats and foster kittens to sleep in, the less cat fur I have on my own bed.

Squeak and Ivan give it their seal of approval.

This photo is for my mom, who got Molly a little stuffed frog for Christmas. It is Molly's favorite toy:

With the weather warming up outside, I've been letting the fire in the woodstore die during the day. This means it takes awhile to get it going in the evening. Warmer weather makes for a poor draft up the chimney. So I turn on the furnace, and the pets all huddle up near the heat vents. Once the fire is going, they move over by the stove.

You'd think it was 50 instead of 70 degrees in here!

In fact, Squeak has abandoned the new bed for the ottoman in front of the fire. Ivan is sitting on a mat on my desk, helping me write.

The oil man came by yesterday and my fuel oil usage was reduced by HALF these last two months. What's the difference?

The fan. Just the fan. The heat now comes down into the house proper, instead of sitting up by the ceiling. The temperature went up almost 10 degrees with that fan on, which of course meant the furnace stayed off.

Amazing. That silly fan saved me $150 in just two months.

A decade of procrastination

2010-03-06T19:18:00.009-05:00

Ain't it funny what you'll put up with, for SO long.

There's a possibility I may get a housemate for a few months, which means it's time to paint the upstairs. Three rooms had been done since we moved in, but need freshening. One room was never done. And the hallway...UGH! It's still old dark nail-up panel sheeting. The door between the hallway and the back bedrooms is the original paint, and is filthy. None of the trim has been repainted. I've turned a blind eye to it because..well, who cares? But now someone might have to live up there--not just stay for a night.

I mean, look at this light:

The house came with those square light covers, you know, the ones you smash the first time you take a sweatshirt off underneath or try to move something tall? Yeah, those. So when we smashed them one by one we did replace the one in the bedroom (with the most boring fixture imaginable--probably the cheapest) but slapped a regular shade on upside down on the hallway light.

The other two bedrooms have no hardwired lights, so we have something like this:

So today I went shopping for lights and a door for the bottom of the stairs. A solid door would be nicer, but warm air in the winter, and cool air in the summer, needs to make it up those stairs.

It ran over $200, but you know what? The money I saved by stopping drinking at home paid for it. So there you go. One good reason to stop an expensive habit.

I also bought a crowbar in my "replace the tools that belonged to Mark, one by one" campaign.

Then there are other shabby areas of my house that haven't been an issue. Who is going to see my spice cabinet? Who needs to decipher their labels? Up until now, no one.

I failed to take a photo of all the bottles of old stale spices that I threw out. It was rather alarming. Mark and I went through this thing about five years ago. Five years is a long time.

Spices are expensive, so anything that seemed like I should keep until I could afford replacements I did keep. Anything unlabeled or that just smelled like dust went into the trash, bottle and all. I wanted to shop the bulk spice area of Tops (which, surprisingly, has more options than Wegmans) but they didn't have the things I needed. The spices in the baking aisle were way too expensive, so I figured I'd just get one at a time.

Then I stumbled into the organic aisle and discovered small bottles of spices for half the cost of good old McCormick.

So now I am back in action. The fifteen-year-old cream of tartar is gone. The little envelopes of red stuff are all gone (could be cayenne, could be regular paprika, could be hungarian paprika--who knows?) Ditto with the baggies of green stuff--probably a product of two days a half-decade ago when I played with the food dehydrator. With the exception of one jar, all of the "ghost of Mark" handwriting is gone.

We're getting there!

What does your spice cabinet look like? Could I cook from it if I were over at your house?

:)

2010-03-06T18:54:00.001-05:00

Foods I've missed, somehow

2010-03-04T03:18:00.005-05:00

Can you believe that until about a month ago, I'd never heard of scalloped corn? It seems to me like a food that would have fit right in there with the homemade macaroni and cheese, and tuna noodle casserole of my childhood. I'm not even sure how I stumbled across it on the internet. Someone mentioned it on a blog, I think, and I thought "Scalloped corn? What the heck is that?"

We did eat creamed corn now and then when I was a kid. I loved how sweet it was, although I sort of found the slurpy nature of it a bit icky. Tasty, but icky.

Now, had one of my friend's moms plopped scalloped corn down on their dinner table, or had we learned how to make it in school, I surely would have been whining to mom about turning those cans of creamed corn into a casserole. Heck, all you needed were a few eggs, milk, and Ritz crackers or saltines, which we always had around.

I also remember coming to Ithaca as a student, totally clueless to the concept of Buffalo wings. I honestly had no idea what manner of beast they came from when I saw them on the menu at Dos Amigos. I believe it was in the ABC cafe that I first learned of huevos rancheros. Once upon a time I always topped my eggs at home with cheese. Now I eat them scrambled with a side of salsa. And roasted Brussels sprouts (Just a Taste)? Who knew they could be so good? Yet those are all "restaurant foods" that you bring home to your own kitchen.

(note, the photo directly above is of eggs and salsa, not scalloped corn!)

Scalloped corn? That is family food that some people have at every single Thanksgiving dinner. And I'm pushing 48 and never heard of it. Now I wonder what other absolutely average American pan-o-food is out there that I have totally missed out on?

Old farm photos

2010-03-01T19:55:00.006-05:00

Gretchen knocked on my door one day in 2006. She had lived here as a child and wanted to know if she could wander around. A few months later she sent me some photos:

If you've ever visited the cabin in the forest on the hill, the poultry coop in this photo might look awfully familiar.

I can't begin to tell you how many 50-plus year-old guys stop and say "Hey, I used to live here. Did you know this was a commune?" Half the time they are thinking of Owl Creek Farm further down the road, but some of them did indeed live here. I imagine a lot of folks called this place home over the years, more as transients than "commune" members. I have the old abstract, and the place changed hands a lot in recent years.

And I think this is Gretchen, coming up the front hill:

Gretchen now owns Gunn Creek Farm, and you'll see her childhood farm mentioned right on her website.

And we both graduated from Ithaca College. How about that? And never met while we were there.

The farm is also the birthplace of Woodbridge Ferris, senator and founder of what is now Ferris State University. Here is the original cabin on the property, where he was born. My house (and his life on this farm) is mentioned in his biography here under "The New Home."

If you have snow, enjoy it

2010-02-28T13:03:00.001-05:00

No, I'm not choking her. She's on a flexi-leash.

Blu Hors Matine euthanized last month

2010-02-21T16:52:00.006-05:00

Every few months I check in on Blu Hors Matine, a favorite dressage horse of mine (as well as a favorite of thousands of others).

Today I stumbled across the bad news that she had been injured in the field and was put down.

After an injury slipping off a trailer, she never reached competition soundness again, and was retired to be a brood mare. It doesn't sound like they know how she injured herself in the field.

Sadly, the quality of the video isn't as good as the one that used to be posted. It's so seldom you see a horse that really seems to enjoy being worked. She was a delight to watch.

Happy Valentine's Day to me, and you, and you....

2010-02-12T18:12:00.006-05:00

I understand that some people don't like Valentine's Day. I liked it quite a bit once I was free from the elementary school "you-have-to-give-everyone-a-card-but-you-give-the-homely-cards-to-the-unpopular-people" cruelty aspect of the Big Red Day. Once you grew up enough to be allowed to have real friends instead of popularity-contest friends (were you one of those people who really actually kind of liked the girl with greasy hair and bad glasses, and were ashamed that you didn't dare to show it too much around other people?)---after those days passed away, I found Valentine's Day to be quite fun. Luckily for me (now) my previous-other-half professed not to like Valentine's Day (like many people). Therefore, I'm not wistfully staring at red roses and hearts wishing there was someone to give me some.

What I miss the most about Valentine's Day are the cheap boxes of cards that had puppies and kittens and flowers on them, instead of trademarked cartoon and movie characters.

Anyway, I planned to use Valentine's Day as an excuse to go to my local florist. It's one of the local businesses I never go to because I never buy flowers. This seemed like a good excuse. There was a big sign that they had Valentine's roses by the dozen for a $15.99, so I pulled in.

But when I walked inside, what did I find but purple carnations. In FOUR different shades.

So guess what I got.

Happy Valentine's Day, all around. Here's to silliness.

Post note: OK, now I can reveal that I also Teleflora'd flowers to my mom. I'm not ENTIRELY flower selfish!

Reflection on being snowbound

2010-02-11T08:26:00.001-05:00

There is only one thing worse than having to listen to Toyota apologize over and over and over on the radio, and that's listening to a woman sing "If you're happy with your Honda clap your hands."

Craigslist

2010-02-08T21:28:00.006-05:00

Craiglist really has revolutionized the home space for people with are broke. I won't call myself poverty stricken, although things are tight. But I do recall when I got my first apartment, and I cruised the streets on garbage night. If you saw a couch--any couch--and you needed a couch, you took it, unless it had been rained on. When you found a better couch, you took that one, and put your current couch on the curb for someone else to take. There were no choices. You were destined to a period in your life where everything you owned was someone else's trash.

Does this bring back memories for anyone who is reading?

Craigslist gives people a choice. Granted, some people are asking what the furniture is worth, which puts it out of the reach of a person on a tight budget. But quite often there are folks who just want stuff to go away. If you are very very patient, and keep your eyes open, instead of being stuck with the couch at the side of the road, you can pick a couch you like.

(Nonetheless, if you are living on ramen noodles, even a $20 couch is $20 too much. That's what Freecycle helps with).

There are a couple of things I've always wanted but that I've written off as being out of my price range---forever. I simply will not spend the money on them, no matter how they strike my fancy.

When I saw one of them on Craigslist today for $25 I had to look three times, absolutely certain the price was wrong.

You do not buy a redwood burl slab coffee table with a driftwood base for $25 unless it has Elvis painted on the top.

Unless there is a couple moving to Georgia who just wants everything to go away.

And it turns out the gentleman had rented my house back in the mid-80s when he was building the beautiful log cabin he now had for sale.

I didn't think to ask him if this table had been here before.

Happy Single Woman's Radio Station

2010-02-07T09:56:00.004-05:00

I'm going to start a radio station that doesn't play any "Oh gosh I'm in love" or "Oh gosh I WANNA be in love" or "damn, he's/she's done me wrong" or "aren't children the TOTAL point of life" songs.

I listen to country music. I started this habit about eight years ago when I was trying to stay awake on long drives, because, hey, you can understand the words, and you can also sing along. Unfortunately, 85% of the songs fall into the above categories.

Nowadays, I'm turning it off and going back to modern rock precisely because I can't understand the words on rock songs.

Sadly, my public radio station is fuzzy, or I would listen to that.

I don't have to fetch anyone coffee at work....

2010-02-05T00:55:00.003-05:00

....But sometimes I do get to play puppy agent.

If I get in bed first....

2010-01-23T01:30:00.002-05:00

It's not such a big problem. Only two cats are allowed to sleep with me: Ditz behind my knees, and Ivan at my chest. But the problem is, what if they all get there first?

That's when you break out the treats and make them think it was their idea to get down.

When I wake up melancholy

2010-01-18T14:19:00.012-05:00

It doesn't happen often, I suppose, but I'm sure it happens to all of us. When you wake up in the morning, you sometimes wake up tired, you sometimes wake up dreading work, you sometimes wake up looking forward to the day, or pleased that it's the weekend.

And sometimes you wake up sad.

Yeah, it's probably just hormones, but nonetheless you've got to live with it. You can give in to it, and mope about all day, being unproductive and making everyone else miserable, too. You end up asleep on the couch for half the day, then wake up angry with yourself for having wasted a whole day. Or you can declare war on it, go out with friends or go shopping, do something aggressively "fun" to derail the sad start of your day, and attempt to end the day happy, or at least sort of manically and hilariously unbalanced.

Or you can take advantage of the fact that you are feeling low and address all those mundane tasks that are wasted on happiness anyway.

I brewed a large pot of coffee.

I lit the candles in the house. For some reason, candles always make me content.

I then set to work covering up the last of the yellow in the kitchen and the hallway to the bathroom and stairs. I was surprised at how relieved I felt when it was finally erased. I started some laundry, stripped my bed, and wandered around the kitchen with a paint brush, looking for thin spots.

The sun came pouring in around noon. Bear was in and out. We did the "mouse dance" at the door more than once.

I picked away at work email.

It was tempting to just stay inside and continue to drudge away at indoor tasks but the bird feeders were empty again and the recycling needed to go out. Also, we all know the best thing to do when you are down-and-out, although sometimes it takes a boot in the ass to get a going.

A walk. Poor Molly has been neglected.

It wasn't a long walk. The snow and ice is melting, so it was pretty slippery going. At least Molly got to bounce around and stick her head in the snow. I got to feel the sun and listen to the creeks roar. When you are feeling out-of-sorts, unpleasant tasks sort of roll right off you, so I grabbed the shovel and took care of the "when the snow melts it becomes apparent you own a dog" issue near the porch.

Sadness is also best treated with tea (mint) and the newspaper (delivered daily). And creativity. In celebration of the working fan (and it does move the air perfectly! It's 76 degrees in her now instead of 68), I grabbed my last piece of FIMO clay and made a pull-chain kitty.

I then went through my cupboards and the refrigerator for all those leftover Christmas cooking items (nuts, dried fruit, etc.) that had or were about to go bad, or at least become stale. I scattered dates, cranberries, and walnuts around for the deer. I took the remaining pecans and attempted to make maple sugar pecans in the oven, but they were still too stale, so the deer got those, too.

I took care of the cats in the cat facility (sunshine! it sure cheers the place up!), hauled wood, and broke open an old paint can to paint a section of wainscoting near the bathroom that somehow has been missed for almost ten years.

It's amazing what we tolerate in the name of "I'll do it someday." Well, it's done.

Basically I pushed the day away one hour at a time (even scattering ashes on the driveway well after dark just to have one more thing done).

If you are going to be bummed, it should at least serve some purpose.

And here it is, after a night's sleep, the next day, and I did NOT wake up sad.

There you go. Just one day at a time.

Do you have any tricks for dealing with a case of the blahs?

Fan, continued, and local boys in longjohns

2010-01-17T09:37:00.014-05:00

9:41 am - The coffee is brewed, and the blanket-covered chair attests to the fact that yes, at 3:15 am a 20-something young man did in fact show up on my porch in ratty longjohns and workboots, apologizing profusely and begging to use the phone. He made the call on the porch while I got my gun and the blanket. I'm still wondering what that was all about.

9:42: I now own a wire-stripper and know how to use it.

10:05: Do I stuff all these wires through the hole back up into the box, or just leave them in the body of the fan? I guess this is why they have on here "If you are unfamiliar with wiring, you should use a qualified electrician."

10:16: It would appear to me that when I lift this fan to screw it to the ceiling plate, it is going to come unhooked from the support hook, and I'm going to be holding the fan up with one hand?

10:20: I was right, and I dropped a screw. These tiny things are really the only thing holding that up there? Who designs these things? I hope the screws are made out of titanium or something.

10:24: I dropped a screw again, this time inside the fan. Which mean I must disconnect all the wires, take it down, and shake the screw out. I believe this is where other people start drinking again. Thank goodness for coffee and blogs.

11:04: Hey, pretty! I could wimp out now and not install the light...

11:40: OK, enjoy this photo before I blow it up when I turn the power back on:

11:42: It works! It works! It works!

The kittens find it fascinating. The adult cats could care less.

There. Now my long-suffering family and friends no longer have to hear about the damned fan, and I have more space in my closet!

Installing the fan from hell.

2010-01-16T14:31:00.016-05:00

This is the ceiling fan that has lived in my closet for four years. It's intended for the den, so that all the heat from the woodstove doesn't sit up by the ceiling. My ex attempted to install it many moons ago, when I wasn't home (he had installed the other fans in our house). For some reason he aborted the venture and said something about needing a new ceiling plate because this one was bent.

2:15 - Ventured into scary spider basement, located breaker for ceiling outlet in the den, and turned it off. Whoo hoo! Got the right one the first try!

2:20 - Banged out the dents in fan ceiling plate with hammer. I'm assuming that shortly I will discover what problem Mark ran into that resulted in these dents.

2:30 - My ladder is too short. Go out the barn for the 6' ladder. On the way, I am thoroughly scolded by chickadees who point out the feeders have been empty for TWO WHOLE DAYS! Grab the feeders as I go to the barn. Discover two pigeons in the barn ($#%#!!!) who frantically fly about when I enter. As I fill the feeders from the garbage can in the old chicken coops, pigeons freak and white stuff comes splattering down. I scream a stream of swear words, including the "F" word, until I realize the white stuff is just snow. I can't find the ladder. I leave the barn, warning the pigeons they will soon be owl food if they don't move out before nightfall.

2:40 - Where the hell is the ladder?

2:45 - Walk around my house, thinking maybe I used the ladder when I painted the house this summer? I do this in Crocs, no less. Stupid!

2:46 - WHERE THE HELL IS THE LADDER!!!!

2:59 - After checking the barn again, walking around the house again (with proper shoes on) I admit I am unable to locate either of the two six foot wooden ladders I should own. I close my eyes, count to ten, and tell myself that my ex would not possibly have taken them both. I'm sure I'll find at least one. I always do this--put something somewhere odd. It was not stolen, because if anyone stole the 6' ladder, the would have taken my extension ladders as well. I venture into the spider basement for the 4'ladder so covered with dead spiders that I have not touched it for four years. Ugh!!!!!

3:00 - Are you tired of hearing about ladders yet? Well, how do you think I feel!!!!

3:01 - Why isn't the washer working? Oh, look, the den light breaker also apparently controls the outlets in the bathroom. Now, doesn't that make sense? Not.

3:05 - Suffer my first injury, a tiny cut on my ring finger, grabbing the spider ladder as I descend. Get a band-aid.

3:17 - Discover the brass screwheads are completely stripped. Hmmm...we get closer to the source of my ex's previous frustration. Do I have anymore brass screws anywhere? Do they have to be brass?

3:27 - Found two really long screws. They aren't brass. Is this whole thing really held up by just two screws? That's scary. What happens if you add more? Totally creeped out, I do find two long brass screws, but add two more small brass ones.

4:10 -

"Now you are ready to wire the fan." (shivers) I am still totally perplexed by the bent plate and stripped screws. Maybe his power screwdriver was slipping? Oh well! I'm using a regular hand screwdriver and while it took some sweat, the screws went in. There were already pilot holes drilled in the support beam that Mark had already installed.

4:28 - It's hanging up there and I'm reading the wiring chart. I think I have it down. Now I know why guys get to a certain point in their house improvements and start drinking. Luckily I have no alcohol in the house.

4:37 - The kittens are awake and appear very nervous.

4:48 - I don't own a wire-stripper, and it is too dark for me to use the jack knife. So I guess this is it for tonight. I'll stop at Home Depot when I go into Ithaca tonight to see Nancy's concert. Luckily one wall outlet works so I have a single light, and my computer is plugged into the kitchen anyway. The wash will just have to sit in the washer until tomorrow.

4:50 - I have found a lite beer in my fridge.

"I can find a cat angle on anything...."

2010-01-16T00:58:00.002-05:00

Here is a Mandolin Cafe forum thread of photos of cats sleeping in mandolin cases.

Three day weekend coming up...

2010-01-14T19:19:00.003-05:00

...and so much to do.

Here's the opal kitchen:

Here's the previous cheerful version.

I'll finish it up this weekend, which means painting the ceiling. Groan.

Painting over more memories

2010-01-13T20:36:00.011-05:00

So, I'm finally painting the kitchen.

For those of you who know me in an other-than-internet manner, you'll know that the kitchen is sunny yellow. A yellow that, like the dark green of the den, Mark picked out. It's actually a yellow that suits the room, just as the dark green suits the den. He even wanted a brighter shade (that probably would have been fine) but a yellow titled "Beach Ball" frightened me a bit.

With ivory wainscoting, it's quite nice. But it's also quite dirty. And back when I was in the "every memory of the man must go" stage, I bought two gallons of pale yellow paint, called "opal cream," with plans to keep the yellow theme, but go far lighter.

I was going to paint the den copper, but finally came to my senses. The room was beautiful in dark green, and to destroy beauty just because you didn't want to think of the person who made the decision...well, that was just plain stupid. Instead I moved the furniture, made it my winter bedroom/office, got my cushy furniture, and enjoyed the hunter green in a way I never had before.

The kitchen...well, the kitchen deserved the same. Yellow was good for it. When Mark would actually say what he wanted, his instincts were damned good. I should have gone just a shade lighter instead of trying to "unyellow" it by choosing the palest option I could find.

Today I decided I couldn't let winter slide away without completing every already-paid-for home improvement on my list (and the paint was paid for), so I pulled out the gallons and popped open a top.

Hmmmm.....Opal Cream is exactly that--opal. It ain't yellow. It's, well, hand-churned butter color. Very pretty. But not yellow.

I started painting, and I stopped. The room really would have looked better yellow.

But here was $60 worth of opal paint.

I kept painting.

It is a beautiful color. A quiet, warm color. It is a grown-up, adult color. The yellow was young and cheerful.

I just am not young and cheerful anymore. Cheerful is not in my vocabulary of integrity any longer, although I can fake it fairly well.

As I painted over my cheerful yellow walls with my quiet mature opal paint, it became easier to remind myself that in two years the walls would be need to be repainted anyway, and if I were a cheerful yellow person at that time, there was no reason the kitchen couldn't become yellow again.

Paint is a wonderful thing.

The other problem with choosing pale paint is that all other surfaces also need to be redeemed. The ceiling...ick. The woodwork now looks dull. As I painted the walls, I looked at the stained wainscoting and thought "I just painted this! How can it be so filthy!"

The I realized I had last painted it when Mark said he was leaving and I thought I was going to sell the house. And that, my friends, was 1.75 years ago.

wtf?

I've been alone here for almost two years?

The fuel oil man came, filled the tank, and handed me my $800.00 fuel bill. I sat down and looked at it. I've been paying the bills, taking out the recycling, mowing the lawn, fixing the house, stacking the wood, picking away at the paint on the outside of my big red farmhouse for almost two years?

Huh.

It occurs to me, though the bank account is low, that I am rich. Very rich. I look up, and that opal paint looks better and better. I'm look forward to spring when I'll see the grass ripple back into green and I can tackle the gardens again and paint the final peaks on the house.

The yellow was all a lie anyway. He hated these walls, hated this house, hated this farm, and hated me.

Good riddance.

Post Note: Morning, the next day. LOL! Just a little baggage, Susan? And I wasn't blogging while drinking wine, either. Too expensive anymore. :)

Another one of those weekends.

2010-01-09T07:07:00.005-05:00

You know, the ones where you vow to "get organized," "finish tasks," "organize the house...."

Blah, blah, blah.

This morning I actually did get my butt moving at 5:30 am. However, that was only because I fell asleep in my clothes at 12:30 am with the radio on. I forced myself to crawl off the bed as the early morning DJ launched into a phone interview with Governor Patterson. The DJ started out comparing the governor's entrance for the State of the State address to something that had to do with football (I think? I was half asleep...) and the governor responded with something like "I don't mean to be disrespectful..."

By all means, be disrespectful! Be disrespectful! I turned the radio to another station--not because I couldn't stand to listen to a politician--but because I couldn't endure the questions our media tend to pitch their way.

So by 7:00 am I'd been out to the cats, dragged some more things out of the pantry to Craigslist (baskets, cookie tins, etc.), fed the birds, and put a very belated Christmas card containing a gas card in the mailbox for my neglected postal person.

To do list for the weekend:

Finish cleaning the pantry
Take down the Christmas decorations
Fix up a sleeping box in the barn for the cat someone dumped here last week
Go to Ithaca to feed the Fast Food Ferals and South Hill cats (done)
Clean the house
Bring in wood (done, but always continuing)
Looking at the flakes coming down...shovel snow. (done)
Go the post office and renew my PO Boxes (work, and Wildrun)(done)
Update my Petfinder account
Put in another round of advertisements to find homes for these last kittens
If I don't use it and it's in the way or taking up space -- sell it.
And as always...paperwork.

Added:
Make some more little FIMO kitties (done)
Finally get holiday present/cards to my postal person and newspaper deliverer (done)
Pack up M&T's Christmas present (done)

I'm finally getting to the point where most of the things in the house are things that have a purpose. Other than my photo albums, I've finally divested of most of the things that reminded me of married life.

I feel like I'm finally getting to the point that other people got to a decade or more earlier in their lives. Maybe not.

Yeah, maybe so.

Farewell 2009.

2009-12-31T21:34:00.006-05:00

I wrote a post that was beginning to sound far too "me, me, me."

The delete key is a very satisfying tool.

What shall I do in 2010?

I can tell you what I have done so far. I have learned to play Auld Lang Syne. (But not that good. Maybe next year). I have also discovered that when it comes to Mardi Gras beads, old Ivan is faster than any kitten. I could learn a thing or two from that.

Boy, do I need a better camera

2009-12-31T15:00:00.004-05:00

I finally got a good shot with a cat and a mandolin. Clearly, it would have been a better shot with a better camera, but oh well.

This is what I do when my fingers are recovering.

Snow and mandolins

2009-12-31T09:17:00.008-05:00

Forgetting I had taken Wed and Thursday off, I had told Nate at Finger Lakes Guitar Repair that there was no hurry on the mandolin because I would never make it to Ithaca before the weekend anyway. Once I realized I was missing three full days to noodle around on it, I gave myself a V-8 bonk to the forehead.

But yesterday the phone rang and it was Nate letting me know the mandolin was finished! I said I'd be right over, but of course the cat facility sucked me in for a heavy cleaning and I was a half hour late. Luckily he was helping someone else.

Having my own crazy space (the cat facility), it's always rather fulfilling and relaxing to wander into someone else's. Finger Lakes Guitar Repair is a workshop on King Road is a warm corner full of hardcase guitars waiting for repair or pickup, a workbench, a rack for woodworking planes, another for small handtools, a computer, and countless other wonderful things I failed to register. My little Kentucky sounded and felt so much better. He straightened the neck, lowered the action, replaced the strings, and did some fretwork, handed me some pages of chords, a list of recordings, and a CD of mandolin music, AND sat me down for a 10-minute "what I wished I known when I first picked up the mandolin" session. All for fifty bucks and a set of new strings.

And he had already sent me down to Ithaca Guitar Works to pick up some proper picks and a dampit.

I cannot begin to express how much better the mandolin sounds and feels. When I looked around on the internet and saw every page yammering about proper set-up (a term I had never even heard before), I initially was skeptical about spending money on a $100 instrument. But looking further I realized a LOT of beginners were playing $100 instruments, and if they have a truss rod, there might be quite a bit that can be improved on a neglected instrument. The action on this one was so high it was eating my fingertips up. I wrote that off to me being new to playing...until I picked her up yesterday and touched the strings. What a difference.

Anyway, the mandolin is nothing special, but she's fine until she falls apart, I'm told, and by then I'll know if I'm going to keep playing, and I'll have learned a bit before even thinking about buying a better instrument. After years of picking up tinny guitars (it's no use wondering how a proper set-up would have improved those instruments since I was starving-broke back then anyway) it's nice to have a playable instrument.

Now, of course, I'm noticing the sound of a mandolin every time it crops up on the radio, and I drop everything, grab mine, and try to play along. It's amazing what you don't notice until you have reason to.

I wonder what else I'm missing in life that I just haven't noticed?

And yes, like everything else in my life, I am arranging to have a hanger on the wall so the cats can't knock the mandolin over when it's not in its case. I considered a floor stand, but quickly concluded the cats and dog would knock it flying in short order.

Just an aside...

2009-12-27T08:35:00.009-05:00

Frighteningly, it appears mandolin players are also internet fanatics. There are all sorts of listservs, videos, and online training pages. It's like having a beginning instructor in your den. They appear to be very big on "community" --much like the feral cat folks.

However, the last thing I need is another reason to be on a computer. :)

I'm very pleased with the mandolin. It is exactly the kind of instrument I can curl up with and play. The neck, however, is very narrow. I keep reminding myself I did this with a violin and should be able to deal with a mandolin over time, but it's hard to forget that nice, wide, guitar neck. Ah well!

I realize this mandolin probably needs to be professionally set-up. Luckily that's not a very expensive proposition.

One happy thought I stumbled across as I limped through chords and scales, was that I was relearning my childhood violin fingering. And suddenly there was a little emotional flash... "I could play violin again, down the road!"

So, while nursing my poor string-abused fingers, I punched in "violin and mandolin" and "mandolin set up ithaca" and found this sweet instrument at IthacaString.com.

Which just goes to show, I can find a connection to cats on ANY subject whatsoever.

Mandolins and eagles...

2009-12-26T13:25:00.015-05:00

So, I come from a musical family.

However, I myself did not inherit the "patience" gene. I played violin as a child (a beautiful instrument of my mother's), dibbled around on our baby grand (a lucky purchase made by my parents when a neighbor had to sell three pianos in a tiny village that should scarcely handle the sale of one), and I've picked up the guitar countless times.

And I've put them all down again. If you don't have patience and dedication, you aren't really a musician. You are a person who appreciates music. There's nothing wrong with that. After all, musicians need an appreciative audience!

I own a Baldwin piano, which came to me via Mark's family. Now and then I lift the lid and attempt to run through the children's pieces I used to play. She needs a tuning, and two of the keys don't play. I haven't called in a technician because I fear a couple-hundred-dollar tuning will turn into a many-hundred-dollar repair.

Yet I refuse to let her go because...well...when good pianos come into your life, it is very hard to let them go.

Lately, primarily because the music of Nickel Creek carried me through my first year here alone, I've wanted to learn the mandolin. I've considered picking up the guitar again instead since I'm already familiar with it, but I would like an instrument small enough to travel with. I had purchased a Martin Backpacker about 8 years ago for that reason, and quickly learned that they are impossible to play comfortably, especially in a classical position.

Yet I always have this silly dream of sitting on my porch, tilted back in a chair, picking away at some stringed instrument or another, on a warm sunny day.

Primarily because my not-so-affluent family somehow managed to stumble across beautiful musical instruments to grace my childhood, I am a tone snob. Really, really a tone-snob. I can't abide an instrument that sounds at all tinny, but I also refuse to spend a lot of money on an instrument I may put aside in six months. I also understand that a good instrument costs good money, and looking for a dirt-cheap good instrument is somewhat of an oxymoron, and shouldn't even be admitted aloud in musical circles.

Mandolins are already a bright-sounding instrument, so there is a very fine line between "bright" and "sounds like a dime-store ukulele" when you are in the price range I am looking at.

Last weekend, while Christmas shopping, I wandered into a store in Ithaca and was confronted by an entire wall of mandolins. Not being able to play, I asked if one could be played by someone in the store. The guy working there picked one up (warning me they were all beginner's instruments of exactly the same model), but he could scarcely get it tuned, and the sound was brash and unpleasant. I thanked him, said "no, thanks," and accepted the fact that I would never find a really-low-cost playable mandolin and perhaps I should just invest in the piano I'd been neglecting.

Even though I couldn't play it on the porch on a warm summer day.

Yesterday, I had a wonderful Christmas here at the house with my sisters and my mother. Because I am hours from everyone, it was a far-too-short visit. But even in only six hours, the shared meal, the visiting, the laughter over gifts, the reluctance to leave...well, it was one of those good jumping off days that you think "OK, maybe I should try really hard to be a better person from now on."

I'm still bundled up in a lot of anger, and I could see moments yesterday when that came through. You'd think after 16 months, it would be gone, and on the phone last night I apologized to my mom for my flashes of rudeness. Her understanding response made me cherish my family all the more.

It really was a good day.

Kind of like my experience with instruments, these starting-over moments can be too-quickly forgotten, so I try to hang onto the glow as long as I can.

I had not forgotten it this morning. I had had a good night's rest. I had a steaming cup of coffee at my elbow.

I clicked on "musical instruments" in Craigslist just for the heck of it.

There was only one post today, also from an early Saturday riser:

It was a Kentucky mandolin, and was a step up from their basic model. In other words, a pretty good little mandolin, and it was $100. That was less than the tinker toy mandolin I'd looked at the week before.

I immediately sent an email, hoping that at 7:30 am the day after Christmas, I would be one of the first fools on Craigslist.

I was.

One of the best things about Craigslist is that you are buying from real people, in their own homes. The seller in this case was a student from Green Mountain College (who had good questions about Marcellus natural gas leasing) at his parent's home in the hills of Newfield not so far from me. Their pretty little plotthound mix didn't much like the smell of me. I had no ideal plotthounds could bell out as clearly as any coonhound.

When I picked up the mandolin, I noticed there was a small crack between the fretboard and the neck, but as soon as I ran my thumb over the strings, out-of-tune and all, you could tell she had a good sound. A mandolin is tuned just like a violin, so there was an immediate memory leap. This instrument had the same depth as a decent starter violin, and she had a comfortable heft and balance.

It was a lovely trip, to meet great people, and now I have a lovely little mandolin.

Because I was up and about so early, I ran into Ithaca to feed the cats, came home over the hills, loaded up the trash, headed over other hills to the Barton transfer station, and while coming through the Catatonk Valley, I saw a large line dipping and gliding in the grey sky.

It was an eagle.

It's not many people who can sit in their beat-up old truck with a mandolin in the passenger seat and watch an eagle fly overhead.

Life is good.

Something other than media commentary...

2009-12-19T01:44:00.003-05:00

Between work, kitten care, adoptions, and general house stuff, my blogging track record has fallen. Tonight I lurked around the house getting photos of the gang when they were unaware. Ditz, as usual, was in command of the bed.

I finally got a good shot of Molly! The poor girl has been seriously neglected since the temperature fell. Long walks just don't thrill me when it's 7F out!

Thankfully, the kittens keep her occupied. I'm not sure what she'll do when her buddy Cheeto goes to his new home this weekend.

Cheeto has been a true joy to have around, but it's time to him to move on to a new chapter in his life.

Please tell me he did not say this

2009-12-13T23:53:00.010-05:00

Chris Denton, an attorney who represents large landowner groups looking to make lucrative deals with energy companies, put it this way: "Right now, we have the luxury of being able to have this discussion about what is the best way to regulate the Marcellus. But you don't worry about highfalutin intellectual matters when you are starving. There might be a time when we are in such economic distress, we just have to do it."

The national economic picture is not looking promising, he added: "Remember, we are at war."

I have been struggling with the Marcellus drilling issue. If you are not local, you may not know that our region is on top of a large band of natural gas deep in the earth. But it is not in pockets, where companies might engage in "hit or miss" vertical wells. It is all through a layer of shale that must be fractured apart with water and chemicals, and accessed via vertical and horizontal drilling, which would enable companies to draw it out.

It also means pumping a huge volume of water out of our creeks and rivers, adding toxic chemicals, pumping it into the ground, and pumping it out again, additionally contaminated with radioactivity.

Guess who is sitting on top of that Marcellus Shale? You guessed it. Little ole Wildrun.

I am one of those landowners who really could benefit from the money from natural gas leases, and royalties, should there be any. I barely manage to meet my bills each month, and that wouldn't change much even if I stopped rescuing cats. A lease extension payment last fall enabled me to keep this place. The lease company then sent me a letter saying they weren't going to honor that lease extension to pay me the remainder of what they had offered. Luckily, my lease with that company has now expired. They came to my door asking for me to consider a new lease, but hey, they didn't honor the last one so I'll be damned if I'll sign another with them.

If they HAD honored the first lease extension, right now they would be paying off that agreement and I would be refinancing my farm, paying off my ex-husband, and wouldn't have to make a large mortgage payment. But they didn't.

I'm desperate, but not totally stupid, to sign with them again. Especially now that additional concerns have arisen about Marcellus Shale drilling.

Tonight yet another article appeared in local press. The local coverage recently has been excellent--primarily because local activists jumped into the picture.

I am one of those who feels drilling is inevitable, but that we need safeguards in place during drilling, and we need to examine what we are going to do with all of this water. We also need to examine the fact that landowner's wells WILL be contaminated. It may not be many, but it will happen.

I was pretty disgusted by the patter that came out of the mouth of the landsman who showed up on my doorstep last week trying to get me to re-sign. He insulted the governor and the DEC, compared NY to southern CA, admitted his job provided no health insurance (!!!!!), and then handed me an offer than was worse than the one the company had not honored before.

However, I'm also not impressed with lines from "experts" like "highfalutin intellectual matters" and "Remember, we are at war." I really, really hope those were unfortunately remarks taken out of context.

Since when it talk about looking before you leap, "highfalutin?" And what in hell does the war have to do with this?

All I see are people wanting to make money. Not starving farmers so much as natural gas companies and lawyers. And yes, I want to make money, too. I want to keep my farm. But I don't want to be the one who contaminates my neighbor's well, either.

I don't find that to be a "highfalutin" concern.

I'm awfully tired of listening to men who want to sound like they are good old boys. I'd like my landsmen and the expert lawyers to sound more like they understood those "highfalutin intellectual" concerns and took them seriously.

I was going to join one of those "large landowner's groups" and now I even wonder about them. Are they really about more protections for the land, or just more bonus money and higher royalties?

A "Tiger" is remoted related to cat topics

2009-11-30T21:07:00.009-05:00

And besides, this is my personal blog, so if I want to talk about something other than cats, I can.

The "Tiger Woods Accident" is a perfect mirror for our sad media society. The man drove out of his driveway in a manner (too fast, too aggressive, didn't pay attention, any of the above) that resulted in an accident. His wife heard it, ran out, and aided him. A neighbor called police for assistance. Tiger was taken to the hospital and was released. In a one-car accident that doesn't involve alcohol, you provide your personal information, license, and insurance to the police. While it always helps to know why you mashed the gas, it's not required by law to reveal it.

If you are speeding, you get a ticket for going 80. You don't have to share that the reason you were speeding is because you wanted to catch your husband cheating on you.

But now, the media feels that Tiger has "something to hide" for not telling us WHY he peeled out of his driveway.

Let's entertain some scenarios.

He got in a fight with his wife and roared out of the drive in a huff, secretly hoping she'd be worried for him as he zoomed out onto the road.

He needed a six-pack to entertain a buddy and was headed to the stop-and-shop (but hadn't had too much to drink yet, because "alcohol was not a factor" in the accident) and wanted to get back quickly so "Larry the Cable Guy" wasn't on pause too long in Netflix.

A friend called in desperation and needed someone to talk to.

He was half asleep and realized he'd forgotten something incriminating at a woman's (not his wife) apartment.

He was sleep-driving.

His dog was lost and someone called to say they saw the pup jogging down I-95.

Are any of these anyone's business?

The media is expressing shock that he won't at least share his "reasons" with police. Of course, the 911 tape has already been released, and anything additional he would share with police would become public record. Is is any surprise that he's not sharing details of his personal life?

What do I say? Good for you, Tiger! It's nobody's business but your own WHY you made a stupid step on your accelerator pedal. You should have been smarter. If you'd killed someone, you would have had to suffer the consequences. But whether it was because you'd were pissed because you'd forgotten to buy cranberry relish earlier that evening or because you had a fight with your beloved is nobody's business.

You aren't voting against gay marriage stating that it's immoral (while cheating on your wife). You aren't leading my church. If you were, yeah, I'd want to know, because hey, you took a vow, and it's possible you broke it.

But you play golf. So it just ain't my business.

Tell the media to go bark up another tree.

I'm sure if I backed out of my driveway, spitting gravel, and ran over that steep bank across my road, panicked, and ended up in my creek, would anyone be camped outside my house because I failed to reveal whether it was because someone saw a kitten on Halsey Valley Road or because I was headed out to puncture my ex's tires? Would anyone even think to ask?

Not bloody likely.

Thank goodness.

You go, Wood's family. Let them have a coronary because you won't spill your personal life. Yahoo has your wife labeled as a "mystery woman" tonight, because they don't have anything else to trumpet.

Even when they have nothing to say, the media will find something to say.

The very fact that media outlets are acting like rabid idiots when they have nothing at all to report indicates to me that they would be screaming mobs of idiocy if they were given even sliver of a reason.

Do we honestly think the media would shake Tiger's hand and say "Thank you, we wish you well" and walk away if he said "I had a disagreement with my wife and wanted to go for a drive to clear my head?" No one is that big a fool.

Especially Tiger Woods. If he wanted to share, he'd start a blog. ;)

What I am thankful for

2009-11-25T07:06:00.006-05:00

It has been a long year and a half.

I used to be most thankful for a love I thought I had. It was really difficult to realize that person had been play-acting for years. I am sorry he felt he had to, and wish I had been more observant for his sake and ours. I am surprised that I am not over it, but nonetheless I am glad the relationship has ended. It wasn't until recently that I realized I was not being true to myself, my friends, or my family, because I was self-conscious about who I was to my own partner. It's just as well he's gone, as we were clearly not a match. I'm afraid I'm not generous enough to wish him well yet, but I expect at some time I will. When that happens, it will be a very good thanksgiving.

I am thankful, most of all, for my family, my friends, and all of the people who have to into my circle due to the rescue. I cannot believe the kindness and generosity I have experienced. It is something I might not have known under other circumstances. One of the most amazing things I discovered is that almost all my friends and supporters have experienced similar or greater challenges. They basically knit their fingers together, said "put your foot here" and gave me a strong boost up onto the horse's back (if you have never done this, or had it done for you in reality, it means a person is willing to get their hands covered with barn muck in order to throw you up on a saddle because you aren't yet big or strong enough to do it yourself).

I'm thankful for my job, even though it involves far too many hours for a normal human being. It has put me in touch with leaders in the field of animal advocacy. It has sent me where I would never have been able to go on my own. It has introduced me to people who want to make a real change in the world. It has thrown me into the lives of truly lost souls who need help. It has wired me in with the population that is 10 to 20 years younger than me, as well as 10 to 20 years older. It has placed me in a unique frame of reference that I could never have hoped for as a local independent rescuer.

I am thankful for the cats. And you know what?

I AM NOT A CAT LADY. I AM A CATALYST!

At the last conference I attended, a dedicated young woman said to me "I hate that term 'crazy cat lady.' I want to come up with something new."

She is a catalyst, too.

Unwanted cats cost this nation millions of dollars each year. Like lawyers and politicians, it's hard to be a "good" cat lady because the stereotype is so ingrained and there are legitimate concerns about animals hoarders an disreputable rescue groups. But like many lawyers and many local politicians, there are so many of us who are professional and dedicated to our communities.

Every time I help ONE person, the gratitude is overwhelming. These balls of fur that come into people's lives cause people great distress and concern. We live in a society that isn't willing to take a litter of kittens, bundle them into a pillowcase with some rocks, and toss them in a local creek.

Thank goodness for that. A person who won't kill kittens is probably going to stop and ring your doorbell if they notice your newspapers are piling up or your car hasn't moved for days.

And to those who say "Why do you spend all your time on cats when kids need help?" You know what? If your kid stumbled in front of a car, a cat lady would throw herself out there faster than any other person on the street. As food bank requests and ambulance service requests come into my mail, they all go out with a small check, because you know? All of those people are warriors and deserve what small amount I can give them.

No matter what your service, if you give to others, you are a warrior and a friend to me.

Happy Thanksgiving.

And thank you to everyone who has given to me, even if it has been only a kind word. Thank you to everyone who comes back and reads this regularly. Your dedication is a gift to me, and to the writer of every other blog you read.

You know who you are.

Catching up

2009-11-18T07:25:00.004-05:00

I'm fairly certain I bought this chair for me. The cats, however, have given it their seal of approval. Thank goodness the fur vacuums off without much effort.

I realize I have been MIA for quite awhile. I've been adopting out kittens (not as fast as I ought), cleaning the barn, painting the bathroom (I'm not quite sure where that came from, but it happened), working, working, and of course, working. Oh yes, and getting trucks repaired.

By far the nicest thing that has happened in my life is the new Bishop's Inn in Spencer. The newest owner has ditched the "Main Steet Cafe" name, and is serving comfort food. All due respect to the previous incarnations, but Spencer just isn't big enough to support eclectic cuisine, and no one makes enough so pay over $20 for dinner. The Bishop's Inn has breakfast for well under $5 (there is always a $4 special), and lunch and dinner under ten bucks. They have a nice long comfortable bar and two large screen TVs tuned to the news during the day and sports at night.

And it's FULL. Seriously. I went in on Friday night and there wasn't a table seat to be had.

Additionally, the food is really good. I wouldn't even want to hazard a guess at the calorie load on the food there, but hey, it's not like you are getting health food at McDonalds.

So hey, let's go!

They also have Wi-Fi and I've taken my netbook in a couple of times to work. So now I can get out of my box without traveling more than three miles.

This is a good thing, as I've been experiencing vehicle angst. The white truck may have reached the "just needs a $5 part but it means yanking out the engine to replace it" point. The blue truck is back on the road and running well, but it's nearing 200,000 so it will constantly need maintenance. I would have no problem buying a new car with my credit rating, but frankly, I can't add a car payment plus new car insurance right before winter.

I'm hoping to limp by with the trucks, but if the white one is unsalvageable, I really should use it for a trade-in, because if I do get a car, I want to keep one truck for trash and hauling. I can't sell the white truck and buy a car later, because then I won't have a trade in. And I can't just park the white truck until spring, because it probably would be junk by May. Although I could try storing it in the barn and hoping for the best.

Drat, drat, drat.

At any rate, should I get a new car, I'm leaning toward the Kia Soul. And no, it's not just because of the hamsters. Although, let's be honest, those darned hamsters did get me to pay attention.

One more task out of the way

2009-10-31T11:13:00.002-04:00

I have a list of "things I gotta do. I not only "gotta do them," I gotta make sure I never have to do them again, or at least set up a system so that they are done in an organized fashion so they don't take unnecessary time and frustration.

At the moment I am copying off a bunch of paperwork from my dad's estate to send off to my sister. I was going to send it without making a copy and then thought "don't do that, Susan, or the gremlin will getcha." So the reason I'm blogging at all on this subject as I'm up here next to my old beater copy machine hoping the ink lasts for the fairly large pile of stuff. It's going to take awhile, and there's a computer sitting here, so hey, I may as well blog. If I've gotta be bored, so do you, if you wandered here!

Other things on the To Do list:

Get my sales taxes done
Close the Wildrun bank account and all other extraneous bank accounts in Tompkins County, since it's clear I won't be moving back there, and Wildrun's old incarnation is defunct.
FIND A NEW ACCOUNTANT. Anyone have any suggestions in the Owego/Binghamton area?
File for 501(c)(3) tax exempt status for Wildrun. Suggestions for a new name, anyone?
Get my sewing machine fixed. I can't make cat toys with a broken sewing machine!
Get my old laptop fixed.
Go through all my cat adoption/vet records, set up a better filing system
Set up an electronic email list of adopters/supporters
Start sending email announcements
Finish painting the cat facility
Fix the floor in the cat facility
Screen the front porch before Molly gets eaten by a coyote when she's clipped out.
Take photos of all the adoptables. Arthur and Faith aren't even on my pet list. wtf?
Buy a new camera. I have $300 in gift cards that aren't useable online, so I have to go to DEWITT to buy a camera. I guess it's time to go visit my sister in Syracuse.
Clean the downstairs of the barn in anticipation of the Open House.
Send spay/neuter certificates to my recent adopters
Wow, the more I add, the more I think of!

The desktop computer I am using was given to me by work when our company was sold to another company. I seldom work on it, because it has picked up this quirk. Any time I try to work in a new window, the cursor won't work unless I open the Task Manager and click on it. It has gotten so bad I keep the Task Manager open at all times at the bottom of the screen. How odd is that? So it needs its brain wiped, too, but right now the router, battery back up, etc. etc. are all tied into it, and I can't bring myself to mess with it. Once the old laptop is fixed, I will swap her in as the "brain computer" and send the desktop off to be fixed.

There is such a thing as "too many computers." But sure as anything, if I give one away, the one I keep will crash. It's like me having two old pickup trucks. If one dies, I can drive the other, until the day comes when I can afford another new vehicle.

That's the story of my life, and it's something I slowly need to fix. Nonetheless, as long as there are living creatures involved, it's a story of priorities. And while people may argue that "cats aren't that important," nonetheless, not feeding them or cleaning up after them will land you in jail.

So let's consider that important, OK?

Yes! I made it through this pile and the ink lasted. So it's off to the post office.

The cats like it. Of course.

2009-10-19T18:16:00.003-04:00

That's as close to a couch as we are ever going to get, here. Well, unless you count the futon couch.

There. Once the wood is stacked, I'm ready for winter.

Post Note: btw, that pitcher with the flowers in it? History. The kittens knocked it over. Now you know why I usually only get things from garage sales and Craigslist.