Lost in Arkansas

Blogging Again...

2011-05-25T20:37:00.001-05:00

For months now I've been telling myself, "Today, I will blog!" Until today, all those proclamations have been fibs. It came down to the conclusion that unless I started typing, I was now the author of yet another defunct blog littering the web...so either get to blogging, or hit that delete button.

Unfortunately the topic that got me going again isn't funny, informative, or snarky.

A week ago most of the country had never really heard of Joplin, Missouri...except maybe in the "Route 66" song. But now the town has catapulted to the forefront of headlines after getting sucker-punched with the now up-graded F-5 tornado. While this horrendous disaster is worthy of anyone's attention, it's particularly at the forefront of my thoughts because for me, Joplin will always be home turf.

I grew up in a little po-dunk farming community about a 30 minute drive from Joplin. However, Joplin is the hub of the Missouri/Kansas/Oklahoma/Arkansas area dubbed "The Four States." Since I was small, this is where we went to do a majority of our shopping. Joplin is where I got my braces (that office is now leveled), where in high school I drove with friends to go to the mall and cruise Main Street, where I played softball, attended country music concerts, and even took a few college courses.

For two years as an adult, it's where I lived and worked, and where I still have friends and family. Needless to say, recent disastrous events have been a real kick in the gut.

Family and friends luckily all weathered the storm with only minor damage, though a few acquaintances weren't that lucky, and lost homes. And tragically, the number of people who lost their lives is still rising. We're just now hearing a lot of stories of tragedy, loss, but also true heroism.

Secondary to the horrible loss of life is the loss of property. I've stared slack-jawed at photographs and videos of the damage, trying to comprehend how places I've shopped hundreds of times could be reduced to splinters and twisted metal, and how such easily-recognized areas can now appear as stark and alien as a different planet.

I've been told it's impossible to comprehend, but here are some before/after photos:

Joplin Devastation - Before and After

Of course, my disbelief from afar is nothing compared to those living through it. I've had to resist the nearly uncontrollable urge to head north and lend a hand to my fellow Four-Staters. The attitude of neighbors helping neighbors is still a defining trait of the area. However, family have informed me that things are still too crazy for charging in, and it's best to stay put for the time-being. They've assured me I'll get my chance to help, as Joplin will be needing help for months.

In the meantime, there are plenty of reputable organizations taking donations. If anyone has a few extra dollars they'd like to give, this is one community that is going to need it. Especially over the next few weeks and months, when the headlines read something else, and the rest of the country has turned their attention to the latest big thing.

New Garden - Step One

2011-02-17T08:13:00.000-06:00

Well, now that I think about it...step one was probably the dirt.

Garden - Next Step. Maybe that's more accurate.

It's still only February, which is usually my least favorite month. Still, it's a very important month for garden prep, especially when one is starting a raised-bed garden from scratch. So here goes...

Last year's gardening was kind of a bust. Our Epic Move and House Redo and Deployment Preparation sprawled all over spring, summer, and fall, making gardening all but impossible. As a result, my own heirloom seed collection is pretty pitiful, and I found myself ordering out of the Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds catalog again. Eventually, though, I hope to have my collection beefed up to the point that in future years I don't have to order seeds, or I can order just for fun to try out some wacky variety.

My seeds arrived in less than a week, and I had them out of the mailing envelope in about .05 seconds, then chose a south(ish) facing window, put up a set of plastic shelves, and planted tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant in some Jiffy seed-starting trays. More purist-minded gardeners may run from these trays, but I find them to be clean and easy to deal with, and you can get them as well as the little peat-pod refill things just about anywhere.

With the seeds started and our recent days taking a surprising turn to short-sleeved warmth, I've been outdoors preparing my garden beds. During construction of my last raised-bed garden, I built my garden beds with rough-cut cedar boards, which I'd gotten free from a guy in town who no longer wanted them. Unfortunately, what I saved in actual money, I paid for in labor. The boards were all different lengths, widths, and thicknesses...sometimes within the same board. They eventually made very good beds, after a LOT of blood, sweat, and tears. And bad words. But hey, they were free.

However, though cedar is "rot resistant", it is not "rot proof." I found that after two garden seasons some of the boards were a little worse for wear and in need of replacement, had the Army seen fit to let us be as planned.

Anyway, now that I've left those beds behind and I'm starting all over, I bit the bullet and bought my boards new. Now that I'm buying my boards, I'm going for time-saving, practically indestructible pressure-treated boards.

For those with concerns over using pressure-treated lumber for garden beds, I stumbled on a blog that I feel puts the issue to bed: Using Treated Lumber

It's a little pricey - I'm using three 2x12x8' boards per bed (one of course cut in half for the ends), ending up with what I feel is the optimum 4' x 8' garden bed, all attached with 3" deck screws. At about $12 bucks a pop for a board, it adds up quick. The nice thing, though, is that most lumber yards will not only cut the boards you need cut, but load them, too. Once you get them home, they slap together very quickly. A person could save a little money by choosing 2x10's or 2x8's, but I wanted the extra height.

This plan is also much cheaper than buying cedar, as well as being much cheaper than replacing rotted boards every year. I've also tried to spread out the expenses over the winter - I purchased the dirt last month, and at my current rate of buying the boards for one bed per week, it's not such an all-at-once financial shellacking.

My eventual goal is eight beds, but I'll be happy if I get four built this year. Happier if I get six.

And a side note - it was much faster loading the dirt into the beds with a tractor and front-end loader. I'm now downgraded to a shovel. I keep reminding myself that my farming ancestors didn't have tractors, either.

Things to remember when totally building new beds: 1) Remember to leave enough room to get a lawnmower between beds. 2) When telling the guy in the dump truck where to dump the dirt, be sure to know EXACTLY where the beds are going to go first. (I ended up slightly changing my location, and as you can see, the dirt pile is now slightly in the way.)

I try not to think about how many vegetables I could've already bought with the money spent on this new garden, and remind myself that these are expenses I will not be repeating next year.

Did you hear that, Army?

Cinderella Ate What?

2011-02-10T18:43:00.003-06:00

A couple of days ago while while drinking my morning coffee, I was perusing the news channels and this headline caught my eye, "Cinderella Ate My Daughter." Of course that made me pause. The host was interviewing Peggy Orenstein, the author of the book with that title, which explores the hyper-feminizing of today's daughters.

Holy cow...I can't believe I'm not the only person to have this thought. I don't have any kids, so maybe I'm not totally qualified to weigh in on this issue...which the woman on the other end of the debate called a "non-issue." But it has seemed to me in recent years that little girls are being pinked, sparkled, and princessed to death. Upon the Christmas Season arrival of our kid's bikes at the bike shop, I remarked to one of my co-workers about my belief in the "overgenderification" of our kids. This after I'd assembled a little girl's shimmery pink bike with purple accents, glitter, flowers, a basket with a plastic flower on the front, and pink tassels.

I have these same thoughts when I see glittered baby-doll t-shirts with such slogans as "Princess" and "Spoiled." While I don't usually ride in the front seat the feminist bandwagon, I am pretty sensitive when it comes to female equality. I simply can't see how a young woman can learn to have confidence in her own talents and abilities while wearing tight sweatpants with "Daddy's Best Asset" splashed across her behind. (I'm NOT making that up). It seems the clothes and toys shoved at girls today send more of a message of "weaker sex entitlement" and "this is what boys like", than of being strong and self-reliant.

Last summer the hubby and I stayed with a divorced friend of his, who's tween daughter's room also doubled as the guest room. Upon entry, guests are assaulted with pink walls, a pink comforter, pink fuzzy pillows, a white dresser with flowers, and a large sparkly wall-hanging proclaiming "PRINCESS."

I don't remember my childhood toys being so overly gender-oritented. Granted, I've never been accused of being overly girly. As a young girl I constantly frustrated my mother with my tomboy tendencies. I liked to fish and play in the dirt. Heck, as an adult I like to fish and play in the dirt - some things don't change.

I have nothing against girly girls who want the pink room. I just wonder how many girls actually want the pink over-feminized room, and how many think that's what they're supposed to choose. Or, how many parents choose it for them, whether they're trying to ensure their daughter's femininity, or they just think it's cute. Again, as a non-parent, I can't say.

But regardless, I have a nagging feeling that even here, more than a decade into the 21st century, that women's equality and societal image is actually going backward.

I think, even though I don't have a daughter (I don't think two female dogs count), that I'll check this book out and see what Ms. Orenstein has to say. I think it'll be interesting.

Hmm...

2011-02-09T20:02:00.000-06:00

I probably won't be moving my pile of garden dirt tomorrow.

Garden 2011

2011-02-08T17:28:00.000-06:00

May I present...*drumroll*...my NEW garden.

Ok, it's not so impressive right now. Obviously I have a mountain of work to do, building beds and getting the dirt actually into them, as well as all the other tasks that come with having a garden - planting, mulching, weeding, canning... But it's a start.

I have to say there are some days when motivation comes and goes. Just like last year when I was asking myself, "Didn't I just do this?" when it came to packing, driving a truck and trailer loaded with our stuff, painting walls and unpacking boxes. I'm now asking myself the same question, remembering the hours spent building beds and hauling dirt just a couple of years ago at our new "permanent" home. But, it's the memory of the satisfaction I felt when I had a garden to be proud of that keeps me going. Perhaps this year I won't go quite as all-out all at one time, and will start with just a few beds, with room to expand.

Life would likely be much easier if I didn't have a garden. Most people seem to think I'm a little nuts, manufacturing more work when I already have plenty to keep me busy. It's even been suggested to "wait 'til your husband gets home." (Obviously that person doesn't know me very well). However, I seem to be afflicted with some kind of instinctive and irresistible urge to plant and grow things.

And if you think that's bad, it gets worse - I'm working on plans for my new chicken coop.

Oh yes, there will be chickens.

(In case you're wondering, the bees went to live at my in-laws).

Deployment Bubbles

2011-02-06T12:51:00.000-06:00

My apologies for having fallen off the blogging wagon, but the good news is that I'm climbing back on.

I'm now well into The Deployment, and still trying to figure out my routine. I've discovered that having your spouse deployed is kind of like living in a bubble - life goes on as normal outside the bubble, but in your own personal deployment bubble, time seems to move slower. I'm still functioning just fine, keeping busy and living life, yet time in the bubble seems to drag, as I wait for my life to resume it's normal pace when said spouse returns. It's a strange sensation.

Adventures in E-Reading

2011-01-07T09:46:00.000-06:00

Christmas is now well behind us, but I'm still very excited about one of my gifts. Like seemingly bazillions of other avid readers, I was ecstatic to see that Santa brought me an Amazon Kindle.

While it took a while to warm up to the idea of doing the bulk of my reading on this wonder of technology, I have since been happily gulping down books left and right. But, just recently, I heard someone mention the ability to "check out" books from the library with an e-reader, which got my attention in a hurry. I very excitedly hopped on the internet and went straight to our library's website, ready to start downloading.

However, my hopes were cruelly dashed when I read the disclaimer, "Our ebooks are not compatible with the Amazon Kindle." This prompted an internet search, where I discovered this atrocity wasn't just a fluke of my library, but all library ebooks. I nearly sobbed with the unfairness of it all.

Who would've thought that the most popular e-reader wouldn't be compatible with digital library books? I probably should've done better research.

At first I was hit with the sense that Amazon is taking the Apple road - "nanny nanny boo boo...we make a good product but you can only use our stuff!" (As I sit here typing on my much-loved Mac). I'm guessing that if Amazon hasn't already started work on this issue, they soon will. If they don't, the Kindle will likely fall off it's Most Popular pedestal, with readers enjoying free library books on their Sony E-Readers and B&N Nooks.

In the meantime, while I wait for a solution, I'm sill enjoying the books I've purchased on my Kindle. I guess I'll have to be content with checking out library books the old-fashioned way. I'd be most interested to see what other Kindle owners have to say about this issue.

True Grittier

2010-12-27T16:24:00.000-06:00

It's time once again for my totally unqualified, totally random movie review.

This past Christmas weekend the husband and I had one last opportunity for a date night before his boarding a plane for places less American, so we decided on the classic dinner-and-a-movie combo. I, being the completely off-the-charts awesome wife that I am, let him choose the movie. Mostly because I knew he was going to choose the new "True Grit", and I wanted to see it, too. I was a fan of the John Wayne version as a kid, as well as the follow up, "Rooster Cogburn", and I'd heard surprisingly good things about the remake.

In a nutshell, it was a VERY good flick. The casting was superb. The dialog witty. The filming gritty and at the same time artful. And, perhaps the best gauge for rating a movie - I'd like to see it again. It's got to be downright difficult to take an already good movie and redo it, keep the story the same, yet improve it enough to reach the status of being an excellent stand-alone film.

Of course, upon my discussion of the film with hubby, I had to voice a few complaints.

#1) This first complaint has nothing to do with the actual movie, it just deserves a rant. Either more idiots are attending the movies, or we have insanely poor seating choice. The last three movies we've attended we've sat in close vicinity to Professional Talkers, who insist on practicing their craft throughout the movie. True Grit was no exception, as the folks behind us not only insisted on talking, but narrating. In addition, one lady found it necessary to repeat every funny piece of dialog throughout her narration.

#2) I had to wonder if it really is possible to cut all of a person's fingers off with a knife in one big chop. Hubby voted yes, on the condition that the knife was sharp enough and had enough mass. I still vote no. Maybe one finger and deep deep deep cuts to the rest. Maybe all fingers with a hatchet. And, maybe if the knife is brandished point down in a more powerful grip. But I am dubious this feat can actually be achieved with a large knife wielded in the position one would assume if they were cutting bread.

Mythbusters may prove me wrong on this point, but I remain a Doubting Thomas.

#3) I was hoping this remake would somehow replace the big snake-bite scene with something better. I'm partial to snakes, and it hurts my heart when movies take an irrational fear - such as the one most people have of snakes - and use it as a story prop. By taking this avenue, numerous snake myths are prolonged and accepted as universal truths:

Snakes Are Scary And We Should Shoot Them All.

Of Course Snakes Like To Hide In Dead Bodies. Because They're Evil.

You Should ALWAYS Cut On The Bite And Suck The Poison. Everyone Knows That.

Once You Disturb A Snake Out Of A Hibernation-Induced Stupor, They Are Never Sluggish And Don't Want To Hide Or Avoid Conflict - They Will Instead Move With Lightening Speed And Will Stop At Nothing To Bite You Viciously And For No Good Reason. Because They're Evil.

It's safe to say I could've done without that scene. Regardless, I'll probably buy it, and It'll become a favorite in our collection.

Digital Christmas

2010-12-20T21:58:00.000-06:00

My Personal Battle with Spandaphobia

2010-12-18T12:34:00.004-06:00

I posted a few months back about my incessant drooling over purchasing a new mountain bike in order to replace my old clunker, and to take advantage of the awesomeness that is the local biking trails. I must say, I'm not a huge fan of Little Rock so far, but the excellent biking opportunities are really softening my harsh attitude toward the area.

Recently, I finally procured my new mountain bike. Turns out my new job at the bike shop, which comes with some pretty perky perks, enables me to do a one-time-a-year employee purchase directly from the factory. I'm guessing the Big Bike Guys figure that if we salespersons are going to plug their bikes, it's better that we experience them first-hand. I couldn't agree more. It also meant that a MUCH better bike now fit into my self-imposed new mountain bike allowance, and I spent several weeks giddily trying to make a choice (which nearly drove the hubby bonkers).

In the end, after much agonizing deliberation, I ended up with the carbon-frame, full-suspension, 29" wheel (as opposed to the 26" wheels mountain bikes used to have), Specialized "Epic" Comp.

I must say, the name "Epic" is a truly perfect name for this bike. It's...well...EPIC. I've been out on the trails a few times now, and love the bike more every time I ride it. I'm also kicking myself for letting life get in the way and missing out on years enjoying this sport.

However, there is one thing I'm not loving so much - biking attire. Back in the day when I dabbled in trail riding, out of a desire for modesty, I wore padded riding spandex shorts with baggy gym shorts over the top. But now, it seems, most bikers just wear the spandex shorts, or in cold weather, long tights. I've gotten used to people coming into the shop wearing their riding gear, or as one old guy termed them, "Ridin' britches."

At first I was resistant to wearing spandex, at least without something over the top. "So my butt and thighs are just going to be hanging out there?"

"Oh come on...don't be a Spandaphobe. Nobody wears pants - dress for the sport!", I was told with eye rolls and contempt.

And it's true...in the biking magazines, as well as in snapshots displayed around the shop, all the photos of riders and racers show them wearing only spandex, and looking pretty cool. But coolness isn't the only reason - wearing baggy shorts can be a liability, getting caught on various bike parts or trail obstructions. Lastly, there is also comfort in numbers - if you're around others in nothing but their ridin' britches, you tend to feel less conspicuous. You are now a part of a herd.

And so, crumbling under the peer pressure, I've now entered the realm of people who wear spandex in public. Swimmers. Ballerinas. The actors in the new Tron movie. Extremely obese women driving those little carts through Wal-Mart. But lately I suffered a blow to my growing spandex confidence, when I took a ride in Burns Park located just outside of post, and realized once I got close to the post gate that I'd forgotten my military I.D....which meant I had to leave the comfort of the car and walk into the visitor center, in my riding tights, with no extra duds to throw over the top, and nobody with me to offer strength in numbers.

I attempted to be nonchalant, but my conversation with the base cop who was waiting to hear the reason I was standing there, sheepish and uncomfortable, at the (very low) desk went something like this:

"Um...we live here, but I forgot my I.D...Um...I was out riding...riding my bike...which is why I'm dressed like this. Really."

"Is that warm enough?"

"Oh yeah. But I should probably throw some pants in the car. Or not forget my I.D."

"Probably."

In any case, I'm probably just going to have to get over my Spandaphobia. My brother suggested the possible addition of a cape to go with the tights - just to give people something else to focus on, and to look that much cooler. Might not be a bad idea.

"Then it’s hi! hi! hey! The Army’s on its way!"

2010-12-05T10:44:00.000-06:00

I know, I know....I'm a bad bad blogger. I consider myself properly chastised by impatient readers. My excuse is that the past few months have been beyond hectic, with last-ditch attempts to get our house somewhat under control, and trying to prepare for my husband's deployment - the first deployment during our marriage. I'm afraid blogging fell by the wayside for a while.

Now, however, the good Major is on his last leg of training before heading east....extremely east. When the average "civilian" thinks of a soldier's deployment, what most commonly comes to mind is the image of the brave soldier stepping on the bus, waving goodbye to loved ones before heading off into the sunset. In actuality, a deployment starts waaaaaay before the troops actually board the bus or plane, with months and months of prep, training, work, and worry - especially when said husband is the Operations Officer, which I've discovered the hard way is the most labor-intensive duty in the whole deployment she-bang.

While outwardly brushing off those offers of sincerest wife-of-a-husband-deployed sympathies, I've found myself popping awake in the wee hours of the morning playing the "what if" game, ranging from the probable to the absolutely ridiculous, trying to run through every possible scenario I may have to handle.

"What if a pipe bursts?"

"What if the fridge breaks?"

"What if the roof falls in?"

"What if I suddenly develop unexplained and total amnesia?"

"What if I'm attacked by rabid garden gnomes?"

I'm a little surprised at myself, having been a capable, independent, single woman for so long before getting hitched. Having been married for a few years, while I still think of myself as independent, I'm surprised to see how much couples come to rely on each other, and that you really do become a true team. Now my teammate has been called up to the majors for a while, and I'm finding my way back to self-reliance. It's kind of weird and a little disorienting.

It really makes me appreciate the sacrifices made by soldiers and their families in our country's past. Nowadays we have the benefits of email, world-capable cell phones, and video chat, which will allow us to communicate often and in real-time from half a world away. This of course takes the absence of a loved-one from extreme hardship to temporary and bearable.

In any case, I know that during this deployment, even if the gnomes do attack, the sun will still rise and set, and the world will still turn. I have loads of projects to keep me busy aside from work, and I plan on tanking up on books and movies. Once I start having in-depth conversations with the pets, some of you may expect a phone call.

Goodbye Cruel World...

2010-10-18T07:53:00.000-05:00

...Hello favorite fishing hole!

Forgive my recent unbloggyness, which has plagued me heavily lately, but this time I have a good excuse. Last week Marden and I traded in Little Rock for a few days in the woods at our favorite fishing spot. While many of Marden's fellow soldiers are hitting the tropics with their significant others for their big pre-deployment vacation, we instead stayed semi-local and low key, heading to Montauk State Park in Missouri - the headwaters of the Current River. A cold, clear stream, beautiful fall weather, copious amounts of trout fishing, relaxing, campfires, and eating grilled fresh-caught fish and junk food with the hubby were the essential ingredients for beating those old living-in-the-city-house-isn't-finished-don't-know-anyone-pre-deployment blues.

Montauk isn't the fanciest place, nor is it the absolute best or nearest place for trout fishing. Arkansas has some darn fine trout fishing spots, but unfortunately they're almost all tailwater rivers below hydroelectric dams - which means a fisherman (or woman) is constantly battling fluctuating and unpredictable water flow. When the generators are running, fishing is impossible for wade-fishermen like us. Many times I've spent half an hour getting geared up, stepped into the river, only to have the horn blow signaling a rapid water rise. When you're planning a fishing vacation, the last place you want to find yourself is sitting morosely on the bank, watching high water.

However, Missouri is blessed with many natural cold-water springs, four of which have been developed into state parks with hatcheries that raise and stock trout. While the result isn't quite up to the wild-trout stream standards of some other semi-local waters, and certainly not anything like the famous streams out west, it's still a guaranteed good time for scenery, nostalgia, and fishing. All without that maddening drive across Kansas.

Without going on and on like I'm channeling Thoreau, I'll just say it was a week made to order, with perfect weather and fall colors so vibrant they took your breath away and you feel like bursting from beauty overload. There were times I just quit fishing in order to sit on the bank and take it all in - not just the colors, but the sound of the crystal-clear water, the flash of a trout sucking a bug off the water, wood ducks gliding along the bank, minnows scooting between moss-covered rocks - absorbing it all to remember during the cold and drab winter that's just around the corner.

Here's a video of one of the many springs at Montauk. It's not the main spring, which is much bigger, but these little bubbling ones are pretty cool:

Best Reality Show Ever

2010-09-30T08:17:00.001-05:00

I like to keep a "Best Things Ever" list, and recently I've found a TV show that makes the cut. If you find yourself with nothing to do at 9:00 (Central) on a Sunday night, turn over to the History Channel and watch Swamp People, which showcases some backwater characters of the Louisiana bayous and swamps as they hunt alligators during the month-long season. We're addicted. Perhaps it's our recent migration from country to city that's got us needing a good dose of Ultimate Redneckness, but we're hooked. Any show that before the opening gives a disclaimer about some images being disturbing really gets my attention.

I'm sure this show offends some sensibilities, offends some anti-hunters, offends those life-long city dwellers who don't realize not everyone lives in an apartment or suburbia, and offends those living in that fantasy world where meat comes from supermarkets and leather comes from a factory. As for me, it's a very interesting look into the lives of people living on what could be considered the "fringes" of society, who still rely mostly on the land for their livlihoods, and family for their happiness.

In any case, I think it's a good way to pass an hour.

Ho Hum

2010-09-24T12:14:00.001-05:00

Yes, I'm still here. Every other day or so I come look at my blog, try to think of something to write, and end up mumbling "Meh..." to myself and go on to something else. To say I've hit a blogging dry spell would be a pretty massive understatement.

I'm not sure what has brought on the ho-hum attitude. We're still settling into our new house, and I'm settling into my new job, and into city life. City life is just that - city life. I still feel about as comfortable as a bowl-raised goldfish thrown in the ocean. While the city has a lot to offer as far as good restaurants and improved shopping, I still really miss living in the country and the comfort of a small town. I'm sure time will improve my feelings toward living in the city, but I don't think I'll ever be feeling the warm-fuzzies for congested traffic and poor manners I often encounter. So far, it's like swimming alone in a sea of uncaring strangers. Time will likely fix that, too.

I've also been bummed by the weather. When viewing a weather map, my eyes instinctively go to where we used to live, and I see the area enjoying rain and cooler temperatures, while Little Rock remains dry, dusty, and hot, hot, hot.

As far as home improvement goes, things have been slow but steady. Aside from flooring, we haven't done anything major - just a lot of the small, sometimes tedious things that are slow to come together. Paint touch-ups, new electrical outlet covers, trim, and organization issues have been the main thrust as of late. And with hubby's busy schedule, including a pre-deployment two-week trip to the mid-east (which reminded me how much next year is going to suck rotten eggs), these home improvements have fallen mostly on my plate. During his absence, I addressed a major headache in my life - the dreaded pantry.

Like Mom, I like to keep a well-stocked pantry, but the folks who lived here before weren't so concerned about neat, tidy, easy-to-access kitchen items. They were fans of one of my arch nemeses - wire shelving (bleh!). Wire shelving which encourages cans to fall over, small items to fall through, and filth to gather in nooks and crannies. I couldn't walk by the pantry without averting my eyes and suppressing a dramatic shudder. After researching some shelving options, I instead bought a drill press, some 1x12 boards, white paint, and went to work building fully adjustable shelves. I'm pretty satisfied with the results, if I do say so myself.

Here is the pantry before:

Here is the pantry after:

Hey, I can brag a little, right?

Get a Job!

2010-09-05T08:29:00.000-05:00

For the past few years, I've been basically unemployed. This phenomenon has been partly by choice, partly by circumstance. Once the husband and I got hitched, moved, and I quit State Park rangering, I'd planned on taking a couple months break from the workforce while we redid our house in Mountain Home. Those two months turned into two years of unemployment, with a few sporadic stints as a substitute teacher and some freelance arty things.

Recently, now that we're starting to get settled in Little Rock, I've been thinking that it's time to get back at it. The title of Army-Wife-Who-Does-Home-Improvement is getting old, and I planned on looking for at least a part-time job in earnest.

Turns out I didn't have time to look - one fell straight from the sky into my lap.

The other day I stopped into Arkansas Cycling and Fitness to continue my incessant drooling over mountain bikes, and walked out with a resume request, which quickly turned to an offer for a part-time job. I'd been trying to decide where to look for a job that I'd enjoy. It was a no-brainer that I don't belong in an office environment...I'm definitely happy getting my hands dirty and doing stuff.

So far I've been on the job three days, and I LOVE it. "Bicycle Shop Salesman" never entered my mind previously as a career choice, but I think I was born to work in a bike shop. The employee discount isn't too shabby, either. I'm sure it'll eventually get old, but it's such a busy store I don't think it'll ever be mundane. Yesterday I officially made my first sale. We don't work on commission, but I helped a lady for two hours find her perfect bike and fit it to her so she could ride the river trail with her husband. She'd never had a good, properly fitting bike before, and had never had anyone take the time to thoroughly answer all her questions. In an age of ginormous discount stores, it's refreshing to work in a place where true customer service on quality products is placed above all else.

See? I already sound like a salesman.

Back from an Adventure

2010-08-31T20:55:00.001-05:00

I'm back from another blogging break, this time due to the crapping out of my computer. It's been ailing for a while, and finally gave up the ghost. I'm now on a borrowed computer for a borrowed amount of time until I decide on a new one for purchase.

I'm also back from a small adventure. I took a few days to attend the Restoring Honor rally put on by Glenn Beck in Washington D.C. Depending on what news organization you choose to watch, no doubt reports about the event have varied wildly. I've already seen a few of them - part of me can't believe the inaccuracies that have been reported, and another much more cynical part of me isn't the least bit surprised. All I can accurately report is what I saw and heard.

Like many Americans, I've been bothered by politics the last few years. Things just seem to get worse - from the corruption, the ever-widening gulf between Democrats and Republicans, the fact that most politicians see no need to listen to their constituents, and most especially the increasing venom and hate being hurled around with wild abandon. Personally, I don't like being called a hate-monger or a racist or downright stupid simply because I don't want to be a backdoor Socialist, I don't believe in the principles of Marxism, and I do strongly believe that the ideas and principles that our founding fathers put forth are still valid and applicable today. So, instead of sitting on my duff and continuing to complain about the state of things, I heeded Beck's call to rally. I needed a positive experience, and like a great many people, I was tired of feeling helpless. I wanted to DO something.

So, I went to D.C. for several days with my mother and aunt. It was surreal - walking in the shadows of iconic buildings and monuments, seeing the wonders of the Smithsonian, and meeting countless crowds of people excited about attending the rally. We encountered so many people that we started to worry about getting a decent spot on Saturday. Since we depended on the Metro Rail for transportation, and were staying way too far from downtown to consider walking, we were extra worried since the Saturday Metro didn't run until 7:00 a.m. Even though the rally didn't start until 10:00, we got a little antsy...antsy enough to get out of bed at 11:30 p.m., get dressed, and catch a Metro to the Lincoln Memorial in the middle of the night, armed only with a blanket and backpacks full of water and snacks.

We found several thousand others had the same idea, and we joined in and staked out an area to wait out the night. (Actual camping on the mall is not allowed, but park rangers allowed "waiting.") Talk about surreal - I can honestly say I never thought I'd spend a night under the stars, under the iconic cherry trees, beside the reflecting pool, moonlight the only thing illuminating the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument - but strong convictions will make you do some strange things. We chatted the night away with people around us who were from all over - Ohio, Pennsylvania, Montana, South Carolina, Florida, Minnesota, even California. About 5:00 a.m. I got restless and took a walk, and ended up sitting for more than an hour on the top step of the Lincoln Memorial, listening to the gentle but growing murmur of more and more people joining me on the steps and the mall quickly filling up as the crowds streamed in. Once I watched the sun come up, I made my way back to our "camp" to eagerly await the start of the rally.

Our campout turned out to be a good thing - we heard reports of Metro lines the length of football fields, and people waiting hours just to board, not to mention gridlocked traffic even keeping taxis from getting in. We also had a fairly good view thanks to our long night's wait, though the folks with the REALLY good views had been there since Wednesday. Rally-goers were a pretty diverse group, despite what any press may report. I saw young along with old, and all ages in between. Black as well as white, Hispanic, and Asians. Speakers were all colors and backgrounds, starting with a prayer given by a Native American. And, I'm not sure, but I think I was sitting next to two gay guys. :)

I won't give minuscule details of the whole rally, but it was honestly the most amazing event I've ever attended in my entire life. The speakers were wonderful, including Sarah Palin, who spoke only as a military mom, not as a politician. Alveda King was simply unbelievable - it's astounding she's currently enduring death threats for the message of peace and unity she gave. And those were just a couple. Other speakers such as Marcus Luttrell (the "Lone Survivor") and ballplayer Albert Pujols also blew us away. There were many other speakers, singers, and performers equally as inspiring.

Beck ended the rally, which was an overall homage to the military and an distinct call to peace, unity, charity, honor, and honesty, with his presentation of the new Black Robe Regiment - a group of clergy from multiple faiths who have pledged to preach about individual God-given (not government-given) rights and personal/individual responsibility. Christian preachers linked arms with Muslim Imams, linked with Jewish Rabbis...and on and on - 240 representing his thousands of church clergy, male and female, who have made the same promise.

In the very end we were treated with special patriotic singing from Jodee Messina and a couple other Nashville stars.

On our very slow way out with the masses, I couldn't help but notice how clean everyone was leaving the grounds. All trash was picked up and put in bags next to trash cans - everyone stayed afterward to clean up after themselves. Crossing the mall we encountered the first rally protesters - a guy and girl with a megaphone, yelling pretty hateful things. I won't repeat any of it, but all the rally-attendees simply ignored or smiled at them. Apparently they didn't listen to the rally.

I know not everyone agrees with the rally, or is receptive to the message. You may be smirking your way through this whole post, having decided that I'm just another Conservative cheeseball. Just the fact that it was put on by Glenn Beck is enough for some people, despite the positive message of peace and unity, and the fact that $5.5 million dollars were raised for the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, which provides college educations for fallen special ops soldiers. But, for me it was a wonderful, life-changing experience, and that fills me with hope.

Running Update

2010-08-21T08:59:00.000-05:00

It's been a few weeks now since I posted about my newest quest to get in shape through barefoot running. I'm very proud to say, despite the broiling temperatures, I've actually managed to stick with it. Running with the Vibram FiveFingers has been hard to get used to, but lots of stretching and a little patience is the key. I'm now up to a strong two miles, even able to sprint the last tenth.

Best of all - no shin splints! For me, this is a small miracle. In addition to no shin splints - no achy knees, and no painful hips. I've been studying a bit about proper running form, and of course - in years past I've been doing it all wrong. Running without shoes has made switching to a more "proper" gait easy and natural.

If you visit running forums, you'll see not everyone agrees that barefoot running is all that great. I agree, it's probably not the answer for everyone, and if you're a habitual shoe-runner already, it's going to be hard to make the switch. In fact, if you're running successfully in shoes with no issues, there might not be a reason to fix what isn't broken. I'm just judging from my own success, and for me, I'm not going back to shoes.

My next step - to get off the track and on the trail. The track is getting boring.

Moving is Hard

2010-08-19T08:54:00.003-05:00

I've been resisting the urge lately to whine in my posts, but I think today the whine is going to win out. I may just have to get some cheese to go with it.

Moving is hard, in a seemingly infinite variance of ways. Large home improvement jobs, such as painting, laying floor, and making repairs eventually give way to smaller repairs, unpacking boxes, and trying not to get stressed and overwhelmed by the fact that we have WAY too much stuff, and where is it all going to go? Now we're getting down to the parts I really find annoying - replacing switch covers, installing trim, and trying to keep up with housework and laundry while cleaning up construction mess and unpacking boxes of things I don't really need.

And, while the inside of our house is coming together slowly, the outside living areas are still a major disaster. The decks are in bad need of a powerwashing and coat of stain. The two storage buildings are a wreck. The back yard is mostly dirt peppered with some sickly Bermuda. The walkway from the back porch to the back gate where we park is an obstacle course, since someone in the recent past decided to make the walkway out of those ugly concrete paving stones, held in place by ugly white landscape rock, which have since washed out all over the yard, leaving the paving stones sticking up ready to catch a toe. After the major work of redoing this house nearly single-handedly (husband has helped where he could, but has recently been greatly preoccupied with pre-deployment training and working insane hours), I'm worn to a frazzle, and I can't quite stomach the thought of tackling the major work of making the outdoors presentable.

My goal of a nice garden with a few chickens is getting farther and farther away, and it's hard not to feel a bit down-and-out. Being stuck in the bubble of Camp Robinson doesn't help, seemingly forgotten by some busy friends I could really have used over the past few months, if for nothing but moral support. I'm starting to agree with the notion that Facebook has ruined the idea of real friendship.

So, just bear with me - I'm just in a funk. I'll keep plugging along. Maybe I just need copious amounts of chocolate.

Who Needs a Spa?

2010-08-14T07:53:00.000-05:00

I stole this video from Stephanie's Pointed Meanderings blog (Stephanie I hope you don't mind!). I'm not usually a blog thief, but this video was too awesomely sexist to pass up. Finally, someone has found the key to relaxation...making your husband the perfect cup of coffee. Here I have been stressed over getting our house in order, finding a job, living in the city, anxiety about being able to make new friends, and most of all - hubby's impending year-long deployment - when all I really need is instant Folgers.

(By the way, instant Folgers tastes like feet.)

Too Hot to Blog

2010-08-10T08:43:00.000-05:00

I know that's not a good excuse, but holy cow. This summer is sucking my motivation faster than an egg can fry on the hood of my car. I really hate being one of those people complaining about the weather, but I'd hoped against hope that our past weekend's slight reprieve from three-digit temps would be an indication that the heat and humidity was subsiding. But the bright side - it is August, and the Bass Pro and Cabelas hunting catalogs in our mailbox remind me that cooler weather is that much closer.

Instead of incessant griping, I'm posting this video of a dog who has the right idea.

It's Hot.

2010-08-04T08:13:00.000-05:00

Last night during a phone conversation with my brother, he aptly described the absolutely insane heat and humidity blanketing the south:

"It's like being stuck in the Jolly Green Giant's armpit."

So True...

2010-08-02T17:35:00.000-05:00

Mullets Alive!

2010-07-30T08:37:00.000-05:00

Well, despite moronic politics, mullets still run free and wild. My last phone was not conducive to capturing mullets, but with the acquisition of a new phone equipped with an awesome (and silent) camera, I'm back in the hunt.

These were all captured on our recent trip to South Alabama/North Florida - an area very rich in mullet habitat. Mullets grow as thick as the peanut fields. Here are three captures of notable specimens:

Fort Rucker Mullet:

This mullet was serenely gazing at static displays in the Ft. Rucker Aviation Museum, where Trent's graduation was held. I had to feign interest in the display text I'd already read just to make sure it wasn't one of those deceptive hat-mullets, where a wig is actually attached to the hat. I was able to personally verify the authenticity of this mullet.

Navy Aviation Museum Mullet:

Mullets seem more at home in certain situations - such as truck pulls, Nascar races, and county fairs. I'm going to go out on a limb and make a scientific claim based on my own observations - mullets are also attracted to static displays of military airplanes. This femmullet was glorious, but safest when viewed at a distance.

Rockin' Biker Mullet

This is a classic biker mullet. Rugged, tough, and windblown.

This next photo is obviously not a mullet, but was a sight that proved definitely photo worthy. I would also guess it might be driven by a mullet. Yes, it's a cat car.

Complete with a cat butt. You have to give extra credit for anatomical correctness.

Just Call Me Stupid

2010-07-29T12:14:00.001-05:00

Recently a reader questioned my avoidance of political posts. I haven't been consciously avoiding commenting on politics - it's been more of a "head in the sand" attitude lately while we've been moving, redoing our house, selling a house, and dealing with all the stresses that come with it. But, rest assured that many of the recent goings-on in politics has my head spinning, and should have every American's head rotating rapidly, whether your preferred animal is the elephant or the donkey.

Unless, that is, you're a Progressive, Marxist, or Socialist...all of which seem to be (most disturbingly) gaining ground as an acceptable alternative to our current system that made America great in the first place. It no longer seems to matter what the majority of Americans want - this administration has made clear that it is going to do what IT wants, when it wants, how it wants, with or without going through the proper channels as mandated by the Constitution. President Obama ran on a platform of transparency and holding government accountable, and thus far he's run an administration behind closed doors, has out-and-out lied, and has put in place policies hidden in "reform" that allows government agencies to operate without accountability. Many more of these policies, and we can officially kiss the idea of "Freedom" and determining our own destinies goodbye.

So many issues today just defy common sense.

The latest thing I just simply can't understand is all the hoopla and angst over the Arizona immigration law. Call me stupid, but I just can't wrap my mind around why there are thousands marching to protest Arizona's attempt to hold the Federal government accountable for the law they're supposed to be upholding, but refuse.

I'm not heartless, as liberals like to call conservatives. I understand why people want to come to this country, and if I were on the Mexico side with a starving family to feed and work across the border, you bet I'd be risking my life to get to the other side. And, I believe they should be able to legally immigrate. Our immigration system definitely needs an overhaul - an overhaul where everyone wins. Immigrants should be able to come and work if they so desire, but we should know who they are. They should pay taxes, have a social security number, and everything that comes with being a U.S. citizen if immigrants expect to have the rights of a citizen, period.

But, what we have on the border is a hostile takeover - not just innocent families trying to make their way to a better life, but drug cartels, gangsters, and human traffickers, even snipers, all heavily armed, literally reclaiming American territory for Mexico. Again, call me stupid, but shouldn't we be defending our territory? Why is this concept so hard?

Other questions I have - would anyone else reasonably expect to immigrate to another country and not be expected to go through certain channels, show documentation, and answer to authorities? I would not in my wildest dreams travel to Australia, refuse to show documentation, and then not expect to be thrown in jail. I would surely not expect to be given free healthcare and other benefits. In other words - I would not in my wildest dreams expect to "fly under the radar" without repercussions in any other country. Why is this expected of the United States? How is this fair to those immigrants who DO go through the proper channels?

When you get pulled over by the police for just cause, do you show your driver's license? That's proper documentation - why are illegals not required the same as legal citizens? As it is now, illegal immigrants in the United States are afforded more rights and services than legal citizens. Why is this even a debate?

If anyone has an answer - without crying "racist!" and "bigot!" - please let me know.

My New Running Shoes

2010-07-23T09:44:00.002-05:00

Any long-term readers may remember my former quest to start running (again) and to get in shape. That, of course, fell by the wayside....what with preparing to move, looking for a new house, actually moving, persistent back problems, and all the other stuff that's made my life into The Crazy Roller-Coaster of Stress ride over the past year. Sounded like a good enough excuse, until I realized it was just that - an excuse. So, here I go...again...with the running.

My biggest problem is that I HATE running. HATE it. I know there are other things to do to get into shape, but running is the quickest, and you don't need a bunch of equipment, or a pool, etc. (I do wish I had access to a pool - I love swimming workouts). Mountain Biking is a great cardio workout, but I do need a new bike, and a new bike (well, the one I want) is temporarily financially out of reach. For running all you really need is just some shoes and a bit of motivation.

My brother and sister-in-law are bona-fide runners, and have been trying to inspire me to pound the pavement once again. Recently they've approached running in a new/old way - barefoot. Minimalist running has been in vogue for a long time, but seems to be getting a bigger following as of late, and after reading up on it I decided maybe that approach was worth a try. I mean, it does make some sense. Running shoes keep getting "better" and more complicated to reduce all kinds of pain running causes, which seems kind of silly when you consider we were already born with all we needed for running and walking - our bare feet. For example - running shoes have all kinds of heel padding to minimize the shock of hard heel striking - when barefoot running eliminates the heel strike altogether. The general consensus seems that during all of human history human feet were just fine, and in just the past 200 years or so we've really started messing them up, even changing their shape with shoes, which works against the way our feet were designed to function.

For me the biggest draw is the promise of "no shin splints", which have been the bane of my running attempts my entire life. So, all scientific evidence and hoopla aside - if I can escape shin splints, I'm sold.

My brother and his wife don't actually run with bare feet, for obvious reasons - sharp rocks, glass, gum, bugs, dog poop, roadkill, and all the other stuff you may find on the road or trail. Instead, they use slip-on footie shoes called Vibram FiveFingers. (I still haven't gotten a good answer as to why they're not called "FiveToes.") There are numerous minimalist shoes currently on the market, but the FiveFingers are supposed to be the closest thing to barefoot other than actual bare feet. The individual toe slots - a feature unique to the FiveFinger - train your toes to spread apart, adding balance, stability, and strength.

First, when I strapped these puppies on, I thought, "No Way. Not going to work." Not only did they look stupid, I usually hate the feeling of things between my toes. But, after a few minutes they started to feel pretty good. After walking around for about ten minutes, they felt DARN good. They felt freeing...I got the strong urge to flit and skip around the store with my arms in the air. Instead I calmly walked to the register, handed over my debit card and purchased these:

I can sum up my first run in one word: OUCH!!! Holy Moly! While it felt great running with just my toe-shoe footies on, the different foot-strike I naturally used caused me to heavily use muscles that have been lazy. My calves in particular screamed for mercy. It's essential to ease into minimalist running, especially when you consider most people have lived a majority of their lifetimes in shoes. This really works for me, since I've been away from running so long I have to ease in, shoes or not. So far I've been at it for a week, alternating running/walking short distances. Even if I'm on a running workout off day, I still try to put on the FiveFingers to at least walk around the house. Despite their idiotic looks, I'm liking the results.

If anyone else has tried this approach to running, I'd like to hear your two cents.

For a good article about the science behind minimalist running, click this: LINK

Wussing Out

2010-07-22T08:14:00.000-05:00

Today is officially day #2 of having no air conditioning.

I'm usually pretty tolerant of hot summers. We're in the south. Every summer is hot, some hotter than others, and I try to take them in stride and refuse to incessantly complain about the heat as some do. The Minnesota/N. Illinois/Wisconsin immigrants that are so prevalent around Mountain Home complained about the weather loudly from May until October to anyone in earshot. It was always hard not to respond with a suggestion to go jump in the lake.

Now, if I had a lake, I'd definitely be jumping in. This summer is getting to me. I'm not sure if it's the sustained heat with no breaks and very little rain, stress, or a combination, but I'm wussing out. And, it's worse in a trailer - something like sitting in a metal breadbox in the middle of the Mojave. I don't know how old-timers did it, but they were tougher than me!

Now, excuse me while I go put my head in the freezer.

Surrounded by Apaches

2010-07-20T08:31:00.000-05:00

I think I'm sufficiently recovered from my the bash to my writing ego, so here goes:

Last week we took a short break from the never-ending grind of home improvement, and headed for south Alabama to attend my brother's graduation from Apache helicopter flight school.

As if it weren't cool enough to be a combat-decorated green beret, my brother had to go and start flying the coolest of the cool in fighter helicopters - the Apache. With the other brother currently navigating a B-52 and fixing to go on to cooler things himself, my feelings of being the underachieving boob of a sibling have been greatly magnified. I'm also green with envy - Fort Rucker's skies are an aeriel traffic jam of awesomeness in the form of all kinds of helicopters, and my brain was constantly occupied with trying to imagine how thrilling it would be to be able to at least ride in one, let alone PILOT one. It's still hard to believe that the brother who was once the bane of my existence, who's favorite prank was to rub my toothbrush in soap, and who has the greatest count of stitches given to siblings (we all caused each other to get stitches, but Trent's count is highest), is so accomplished in the impossibly-hard, and is just generally a certified badass. Yeah, despite my jealousy and feelings of inadequacy, I'm still very much a pretty proud big sis of both of the brothers.

Here are a few pics from graduation:

Hannah pinning on Trent's wings:

The Fam

As I mentioned, the skies at Fort Rucker were full of copters, and I never got tired of watching. Even after the last few months of living on our own military post crawling with constantly active Blackhawks, I'm still fascinated enough to run outside like a kid to watch them fly over the house. Perhaps I missed a calling. Despite my fascination with helicopters, I did get very tired of the Apaches buzzing our lakeside cabin at night every few minutes, low enough and loud enough to rattle the windows, cause items to vibrate off the nightstand, and to rocket you from sleep with the first instinct to dive for cover. How my folks slept through that is a mystery to both me and Marden, but after two nights we were weary. We later invaded Trent and Hannah's house for the remainder of our stay, where we were out of the flight path and the copters were merely a distant rumble.

Crappy Writing

2010-07-16T11:12:00.003-05:00

I'm still reeling a bit from my writing analysis which compared me to Stephanie Meyer. I know it's just a simple Internet analysis, and I don't have any illusions about being a great writer, but still. And it's not that she's just AWFUL...while her writing kind of annoyed me, and some of her characters REALLY annoyed me, she could tell a good story and keep me interested enough to read all four Twilight books and see the movies. If it's a good story, I can forgive some pretty bad writing. I've read much worse from other authors making millions. I just don't want to annoy people. I also don't want to populate the world with any more crappy writing.

True, Stephanie Meyer is laughing all the way to the bank, despite her critics, but I tend to be a romantic idealist. This might be different if I were pursuing a living as a writer, but I think I'd rather be critically acclaimed and broke rather than told over and over that my writing stinks, even if I made money off that stinky writing. This is weird, because I'm the complete opposite with artwork. I spent my college years being told by the majority of my snooty art instructors that my artwork was "baseless", "irrelevant", "boring couch art", and on one occasion told by my Advanced Figure Drawing instructor - in front of the whole class AND the nude model no less - "Just because you can draw better than anyone in this class doesn't mean you're an artist." I kept my grade in mind and my mouth shut, but I wanted to ask if the person who'd just had a show in the student gallery could be called an "artist" because she built two columns, glued pieces of broken mirror to them, then sprinkled dead leaves around on the floor and called it "art." With artwork, critique from the "experts" doesn't matter a lick to me, as long as I'm satisfied with my own work and the Average Joe or Jill likes it. Maybe it all boils down to confidence.

I was joking about not blogging anymore - I'll still blog because I enjoy it. But please, PLEASE someone tell me if, like Stephanie Meyer, I start using too many ridiculous metaphors, create an extremely annoying character, or begin to rave about handsome sparkly vampires with piercing amber eyes and snow-white marble skin, frosty as the arctic winter breeze...

I Write Like...Crap, Evidently

2010-07-15T19:37:00.000-05:00

Having taken the "who do I write like" test posted on Stephanie's "Pointed Meanderings" blog, my bubble is totally burst. I don't know whether to laugh or sob uncontrollably. It may just be the end of this blog.

My results were Stephanie Meyer.

*sigh*

My New Mechanic

2010-06-24T08:36:00.000-05:00

Amos will do a pretty good brake job for Friskies.

Tomato Jerks

2010-06-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

Wasn't it just last week that we were griping about the bitter cold and unusual amount of snow? It seems summer has brutally descended on us like a big, wet, wool blanket. It occurred to me how ridiculous the temperatures have been when I looked at the long-range forecast and realized I was viewing temps in the lower 90's by the end of the week as "relief."

If the trend continues, we may be in for a long miserable summer. I'm already missing being in close proximity to the lake.

Luckily my tomato plants don't seem to mind the excessive heat. I was excited to see - despite some adversity in the form of an aggressive tomato hornworm invasion - a ripe tomato. You might notice the lack of leaves on this Arkansas Traveler plant - a result of a nighttime munchdown from those voracious little green jerks. They met their maker upon discovery the next morning. At first I was squishing them (with a tiny bit of remorse - the moths they turn into are pretty cool), but then I decided to try chucking them out in the yard to the side of the house. The fat caterpillars have enough mass to make a pretty long flight - right into the path of a mockingbird who just happens to have a nest in the vicinity.

All my tomato plants on the deck suffered significant damage, but this particular plant seems to have gotten the worst of it. My two plants on the front porch remain untouched. From what I've read and heard first-hand from other gardeners, hand-picking the worms off the plants is the most effective method of control. The problem with that method is having to remain extra vigilant, and if you have to leave your plants for a day or two, just a couple of missed or newly-hatched worms can totally strip a plant of leaves and stems as well as tomatoes. But, I seem to have caught them all for the moment, and the stricken plants are already putting on new leaves.

Tomato growers, be on the lookout:

House and Mouse Wars

2010-06-15T10:48:00.005-05:00

Aaaaaaand....I'm back once again. Despite any reports to the contrary, I am still alive, and despite my best efforts still somewhat sane.

So much blog fodder has floated by lately, but I've not gotten a whole lot of computer time or a whole lot of motivation to devote to the task. I'm still mostly stuck in my own little personal bubble of battling this house, slowly plodding toward the big finish. Marden has FINALLY finished the year+ long military class that's been keeping him so busy and driving me out of my mind, and now we're at last getting some good chunks of time together - a phenomenon which has happened way too little over the past year. It's too bad it has to be spent on this house. But, we'd be a whole lot farther from the finish if it weren't for the help of my parents - who are still coming to my rescue, despite the huge eye rolls and sighs from my brothers.

Mom spent last week here helping me while Marden was in New Jersey at the Army's beck and call, and we made some awesome headway - I painted two rooms and laid flooring with wild abandon while Mom cleaned, organized, put-away, and did an excellent job of painting doors and trim. Not to mention she fixed all our meals - it's a great help when you don't have to stop what you're doing to make a salad or sandwich. We're now down to finishing the flooring in the main part of the house, changing out the sliding patio door, laying vinyl floor and installing a new vanity in the small bathroom, and installing trim throughout the house. Ok...when put that way, we still have a LOT to do....but it's still on the downhill side of what we've done.

One thing I discovered during Mom's stay - a mouse in the house can instantly turn two adult, self-sufficient, strong women into screaming little girls. One night right after we went to our beds, exhausted from a long day, we both got up to investigate a big ruckus coming from one of the un-floored rooms. Puck had cornered a mouse, but he didn't quite know what to do with it. We didn't know what to do either, so Mom yelled, "Puck has a mouse!", and I yelled, "EW!"

Anyone should be able to tell pretty quick that I'm very much a critter-person. I love animals, and have always had and likely will always have a menagerie of pets. I don't get wigged out at bugs in the house (except roaches), and on several occasions I've gently removed spiders to the outdoors for my husband. If it's not a brown recluse, it gets a free pass. (Sorry brown recluses - you get a squish). It used to greatly disturb hubby that I let those little black jumping spiders live in the house with us, but he's gotten used to my spider-tolerating antics. HOWEVER - I draw a big fat line at roaches and mice. If I'm outdoors, a mouse can be my friend. Indoors - it's war.

Back to the mouse - Puck was alternating between catching the mouse and letting it go, while Mom and I danced around, following the battle in our pajamas and making noises like, "OH!" and "EEK!" and "GAH!" During one of it's escape attempts, it ran into my bedroom and Mom saw fit to yell, "HAHA! It's in YOUR bedroom now!", while I yelled, "NOOOOOO!" The mouse must've heard, because it immediately did a one-eighty for Mom's room, and I yelled, "HA! Now it's in YOUR bedroom!" Mom wasn't so smug then. The mouse/Puck conflagration made it's way all over the house, pausing now and then for both combatants to rest, while Mom and I had short, frantic discussions on what to do, both of us being barefoot and unarmed. It's difficult to keep an eye on a darting mouse while looking for a weapon, though at one point I did don a pair of flipflops and attempt what Mom could only describe as to Riverdance on the mouse. The battle finally ended up as a cat-mouse standoff in a bedroom closet. I could see Puck losing interest, and the mouse was terrified, looking to bolt, so I ended the chase with a whack from a piece of hastily grabbed laminate floor. Anyone wanting to scream "animal abuse!" has never had a mouse skitter across their bare toes. I suppose I'm a hypocrite for all of my "thou shalt not kill snakes" preaching while displaying extreme intolerance for mice, but I've never had a snake get in my cabinets, chew through stuff, sample my food, and leave little "presents" laying around. To my knowledge there have never been mass snake infestations laying waste to crops and spreading diseases. In fact, snakes are extremely important for keeping rodent populations in check. And snakes can be pretty and don't have fleas. So there.

Speaking of snakes - I offered the poor deceased to our pet corn snake, Orville, but he turned up his nose. I guess when you're used to being served freshly thawed, sterile, white mice from the pet store, a freshly-killed wild brown mouse is below your standards. I wonder if they're lower in cholesterol? Orville evidently is not interested in health food.

Anyway - the house now seems a mouse-free zone, though I've set a few traps in cabinets just to be sure. The former residents lived in such squalor we're probably lucky to have only seen one so far. The adventures just never end.

Garden Update

2010-06-01T17:08:00.000-05:00

Even though this year's garden dreams were utterly dashed by all of the house redoing, never ending packing, and epic moving, I did manage to plant a few of my heirloom tomato seeds. To my great surprise they all sprouted, and (after thinning and culling) for the first time ever I was able to keep them all alive. Most of the fragile baby plants survived the move and "hardening off" process, and I now have nine big strong heirloom plants grown from seed and planted in tubs. (If you can't tell I'm quite proud of myself).

I planted two Arkansas Traveler, Mule Team, Cherokee Purple, Mammoth Gold, and one Moonglow. I'd have planted more but I ran out of containers and dirt - and believe me, dirt is hard to come by around here.

The most exciting thing is - I HAVE GREEN TOMATOES!!! The rest have blooms, but no 'maters just yet. Still, to have good-sized green tomatoes by June 1st is the best tomato luck I've ever had.

In other garden news, it took me hours and hours and buckets of sweat to re-plant my gooseberry bushes. First, finding a halfway diggable, all-day sunny spot really narrowed down the options. Second, "diggable" is saying way too much for this ground we now live on. It took a pick, mega elbow-grease, and more patience than I thought I had to dig holes through rocks the size of my head. Anything else I plant is going in a raised bed - this time not because I want to, but because without owning a backhoe it's going to be the only option.

Check out the ridiculousness of the rocks:

If You Give A Girl A Paintbrush...

2010-05-27T07:44:00.001-05:00

Nearly everyone has to be familiar with the kid's book, "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie", the ingenious story where if you give the mouse a cookie he'll likely want a glass of milk to go with it, which progresses to the mouse cleaning the whole house (where can I get a mouse like that?).

I recently had a day like this, right in the middle of our EPIC MOVE. Our realtor, who I must say has bolstered my spirits by being insanely upbeat and optimistic about being able to sell our house without losing our pants, did ask that I repaint our front door. I admit that the door needed painting - BADLY. It's been on my to-do list for two years now. It wasn't a good paint job to begin with - the former owners of our house were inexcusably sloppy painters - but what really made it bad was that we'd changed out door handles and locks. They are a completely different shape than the old ones that the former owners just painted around rather than removing.

So, while Mom continued to cram stuff into boxes, I sanded down and painted the front door, as well as the side window panels. It looked so good that I decided to also paint the inside of the door with some leftover paint I'd found in a closet. Then I decided to touch-up the white railings to the porches, which made the badly stained porches look all that much worse. A trip to Sherwin-Williams had me supplied with deck stain. A a whole day later I had all three porches spiffed up.

I must admit, it now looks darn good - everything is new, crisp, and clean.

In the process, I also discovered a new item to add to my "Best Things Ever" list: Frogtape. I'm not usually one for painting gimmicks that promise straight lines and "easy application", but for some reason I decided to give Frogtape a try. Everyone who has panted anything and tried the blue tape knows it doesn't work...this stuff does. It's kind of high-dollar, but worth every penny!

Tomorrow is the EPIC MOVE. Anyone travelling along Hwy 65 beware.

2010-05-25T17:26:00.002-05:00

Memorial Day is coming up - of course the first offical start to summer! For my family it means *drumroll* gooseberries are ripe! I know...nobody knows what a gooseberry is. THESE are gooseberries (watch out for the stickers):

I had to jump the gun a few days on mine this year and pick them before Memorial Day so I could yank them out of the ground for transport. Did you think I'd leave them??? Not a chance. My scrawny bushes actually produced enough for a pie and a half this year (this was only halfway through picking):

They make a deliciously tart pie, and eaten fresh out of the oven covered in a good layer of half and half is pure perfection. The only thing better is to mix half the gooseberries with blueberries and make a "blue goose" pie. Also with half and half....nom nom nom...

Take THAT, Move

2010-05-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

I've been in Mountain Home for the past few days packing up more stuff. With no pets, no television, and sparse furnishings, it's not been the most fun times ever. At least I have sympathy...a local radio DJ was talking about his own move, and how he and his wife are trying to improve the house they're moving into, thus drawing out the move into a long arduous process akin to "Japanese Water Torture." If my cell phone worked worth a darn here, I'd have called to share pity parties.

But, we have decided we can no longer stand the torture and we must change tactics. We're going to smack this move in the face with a roundhouse Chuck Norris kick by renting a U-Haul, and hiring some burly movers to move our approximately 5 bajillion ton safe and equally heavy Temperpedic bed - which is something like trying to wrestle with a massive jello jiggler. We need to get our *$#! down the road and into storage until our new house is done so we can sell this house and absorb the financial kick in the pants with what dignity we can before the selling season passes us by.

~~I can't wait for our beach vacation!~~ Looks like I'm going to have to settle for a shoebox of sand and a wading pool. *sigh* Did I just whine again? Sorry.

Just to prove we are making progress, here's the floor in the bedroom/hobby room. We were very proud to get the closet done:

Pick Axe Pete Revisited

2010-05-22T07:20:00.004-05:00

While talking about Pick Axe Pete on my last blog entry, I got a little nostalgic and found this on youtube. They even show Pete doing the jumping jacks. I do have to correct a minor "oops" in my description of these games...it kind of came back to me after I saw this commercial. Pick Axe Pete was actually more like Atari's Donkey Kong, while the Odyssey's "K.C. Munchkin" was the game very much like PacMan. I'm sure all of you can sleep better now that that's cleared up. Now, enjoy the nostalgia:

Ode to Squandered Youth

2010-05-21T12:17:00.007-05:00

Happy Birthday PacMan!

As anyone knows from Google, today is PacMan's 30th birthday. Wow I feel old. While I never had an Atari, I spent many an hour playing PacMan at friend's houses who were lucky enough to have their own Atari's.

Don't get the idea that my brothers and I were unfairly deprived (though I'm not sure not having a video game really qualifies as deprivation), because we too had our own video game. Unlike 99.9% of other people out there who had their own video games, we had an Odyssey. What's an Odyssey? It's what you have when you live in a tiny town and have a Grandpa who owns a furniture/hardware/carpet store that sells Philco TV sets.

As far as I know, the Magnavox Odyssey was pretty much obsolete before it even came out thanks to the awesomeness of Atari. Still, we loved our Odyssey, and the games we played were suspiciously similar to Atari games. Atari's signature game was of course PacMan. Odyssey's signature game was Pick Axe Pete, which was very much the same concept. Also a game I must say I was Queen of among all our family players. While in PacMan the goal is to traverse a maze and eat all the little dots while evading Winky, Blinky, Inky, and Clyde (Surprised I can remember all those without looking them up?), the goal in Pick Axe Pete was to also traverse a maze and make it to the key to go through the "door" to the next level while evading boulders you could either smash with your pick (which quickly disappeared...I guess you wore it out smashing boulders) or just jump over them. The highlight was when you jumped Pete, represented by a poor imitation of a stickman, into the door to the next level, he'd do full-screen jumping jacks. We always guessed he was really happy to get to the next level, where the boulders came quicker and more frequently.

We loved Pick Axe Pete. Every trip our family made through Webb City, MO took us past King Jack Park, which has a monument to area mining history and the lead and zinc miners who made the cities of Webb City and Joplin into boom towns. To us it was simply a monument to our favorite video game, and we never passed the park without exclaiming, "Look! It's Pick Axe Pete!" If those poor miners only knew...

Adaptable Pets

2010-05-14T19:00:00.000-05:00

It's worth noting that our pets seems to be settling into their new quarters quite well. Most surprisingly has been Puck, who very un-cat-like seems to take things as they come. He also doesn't let noisy or messy house renovations get in the way of his daily naps, and has found a nice comfy spot above the fray to take his naps. Literally.

City Livin'

2010-05-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

We're still plugging along, and as we see our once-filthy double-wide trailer slowly morphing into our home, things are looking up. I'm slowly getting used to Little Rock and living on a military post.

For the most part, base life is quiet. We enjoy the tranquil surroundings, with our house set on several grassy acres with big mature trees, surrounded on three sides by pretty extensive woods, with only one distant neighbor - a very nice family who mostly keep to themselves except when their dog comes over to visit our dogs. We're one of only a handful of permanent base residents, and at quitting time there is a mass exodus from the front gate. In addition, our house is located away from the offices where most hustle and bustle takes place. Still, there are some things to get used to. While we're away from the offices and large buildings, we are close to the airfield, and helicopters frequently interrupt the silence. I can live with that, though. In the evenings it's a nice area to talk a walk or sit out and enjoy the porch. The nicest part is that it seems the base housing authority has a true "hands off" approach - we're pretty much free to do what we want.

So far, the biggest annoyance has been our proximity to the officer training classrooms as well as the military programs for "troubled" youth. Most days cadence calls can be heard in the distance, reminding us that we do live on a military installation. Now that I've gotten used to it, I really don't mind - EXCEPT when it starts at 4:30 a.m. I can live with 6:00...but I think earlier than that is a bit much. It seems I'd just settled into a nice deep sleep when I was ripped from my dreams by "SIR YES SIR!!! WE ARE MOTIVATED SIR!!!"

Well, lately I'm not ever motivated at 4:30 a.m., unless it would involve catching a plane to a warm sandy beach (are you seeing a theme in my posts lately?). Usually I'm able to get back to sleep, all the while feeling sorry for the poor schmucks who are out running around in the dark calling cadence.

The trips I make back to The Homestead have made me realize that it's feeling less and less like "home." The house feels empty and strange. So, I guess I'm making the transition just fine. Hopefully soon we'll be moved, settled, and back to the stuff that makes our world turn.

Stay tuned for some pictures...I'm still figuring out my new phone. :)

System Reboot

2010-05-09T18:11:00.001-05:00

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! Especially to my own Mom, who has definately earned her stripes. :)

I'm back online again, thanks to the purchase of a wireless card. The reconnection to technology has me feeling a bit bloggy. Also, having the Internets has brought me closer to sanity than I've been as of late.

To tell the truth, this relocation and house re-do process stinks to high heaven, and not just from the cat pee. Once again, normal life has come to a screeching halt until the house is done and we're moved. Judging by the way my brain and body seem to have both rebelled, I think I've reached my life limit of house redo's. Maybe it has to do with the fact that we JUST finished totally redoing our supposed-to-be-permanent house outside of Mountain Home which we are now fretting about trying to sell without losing our pants or what goes into them before hubby deploys for a year. Maybe it's all that, plus the fact that in my relatively short adult life, I've been involved in the redoing of numerous houses. This doesn't include any of the family house redo's and remodels of my youth where I frequently found a paintbrush in my hand. I firmly believe every home renovation, whether it's simple paint or full-blown remodel, removes years from a person's life span. Or, maybe it has nothing to do with any of the above, and it's simply that my brain has had to switch gears so many times lately that the transmission is ailing.

My fervent wish, now that I'm in my mid-30's, is to stay in one house for at least five years. My current record is 2. While not every move has required home improvement, more have than not. Every time before when improvements have been called for, I've charged into home remodeling head-first, proud that I don't have to depend on someone else to paint, hang and mud drywall, cut and install trim, and can step up to other similar tasks that crop up when one attempts to improve a home. This time it's with my feet firmly dragging, though the decision seems subconscious and involuntary. I'd gladly pay for the word to be done, but after materials, the funds just aren't there.

My husband recently (very gingerly) commented on my recent inability to make a decision, and I couldn't argue, as I'd just stood in the pant section of Lowes for twenty minutes, body in a state of exhaustion from lack of sleep, caught between trying to decide whether to sit on the floor and sob or angrily curse the fates for making so many shades of similar green....before having a full-blown panic attack when he asked what I wanted to do for supper.

Stress does funny things to a person.

This past weekend, while hubby has been busy writing a paper for a class while buried under a major work load, at his urging I took off for my home town and the quiet, rural familiarity of my parent's house. I was feeling a bit guilty for cutting out when there is so much work to done, until in the span of one hour I'd tripped over a paint can, dropped the cordless drill on the air mattress, puncturing it with a huge hole, then broke the dog's waterer and removed a chunk of my finger trying to fill it. Sometimes you just need to walk away.

This small break also coincided with our bi-annual trip to the craft fairs in Northwest Arkansas, where Mom, a friend, and I all happily enjoyed the nice weather while perusing booths, admiring the clever items, pulling faces at the gaudy and ridiculous, and buying stuff we didn't at all need. I came home with three hand-made rugs, a butter keeper (an ingenious hand-thrown clay contraption that allows for butter to be kept at room temperature for grand lengths of time without going bad, therefore making it possible to spread without destroying your toast or biscuit), a couple of crocheted nylon pot-scrubbers, some old-fashioned milled cornmeal, and a nice big white, yellow, and happily daisy-shaped "Welcome" sign for our new house.

One item I didn't buy, but stopped to read when it screamed for my attention, was a sign repeating a phrase I'd heard before, but it never hit home like it does now. "While we're busy counting our troubles, we seldom stop to count our blessings." Sometimes you need a break, and sometimes you need to know when to pay attention. It's not likely I'll quit whining, and I'll definitely have bad days (probably until things are settled and we get a nice relaxing vacation), but there is a light to the end of this tunnel. Even if it sounds cheesy or simplistic, it's true...I find myself heading back to Little Rock with a full trailer behind me and an improved attitude. I should not only be glad for a house and a great husband, but that we have the ability to do the work needed ourselves, as well as family always eager to help us where we fall short.

I probably should've bought that sign to hang in our soon-to-be-finished home.

But then, maybe I'll just think of the phrase when I use the butter keeper.

I Shall Return

2010-04-29T20:00:00.001-05:00

Please excuse my blogging hiatus as of late. As most of you know, we're in the midst of an extremely difficult move, involving much home improvement, much stress, and many impulses to scream, stomp around, and act out irrationally. Unfortunately we don't have Internet at our new abode, nor are we updated with iPhones thanks to ATT's haughty attitude, and Verizon's less-than-stellar signal. Therefore, I'm unable to blog as regularly as I'd like.

I still find it ironic that we can get uber-fast DSL service at our old home in the middle of nowhere Ozarks, yet nothing at our new home in our particular part of the city. *sigh*

But never fear - you can't keep a blabby blogger down for long, and I'll update whenever possible. Just please don't desert me as I desperately cling to sanity.

Ideas Needed

2010-04-22T21:12:00.000-05:00

My folks are in the process of opening an antique store in my little south Missouri hometown. It's hoped that an influx of antique stores will revive the long-ailing downtown of what used to be a bubbling and quaint little town, and I'm surely one of those doing the hoping. It hurts a bit to go home and see such a depressed main street.

With oodles of stuff left over from my Grandmother's antique store and since they already own a building downtown, they have the makings of a darned good store. As Dad has been working hard to update and redo the building, the challenge has been thinking up a name.

With a family too witty and sarcastic for their own good, the smart-alec names have been flying. My personal favorite was proposed by my aunt and cousin, who thought it'd be nice to put a little coffee shop in the corner and call it, "The Crapper Barrel."

*snorfle*

Anyway, they need a catchy name. While they've already collected a few winners, any more inspirations we could add would be appreiated.

The Hard Way

2010-04-21T09:43:00.000-05:00

Lately life makes me think of that Mary Chapen Carpenter song, “The Hard Way”, given the fact that it seems everything hubby and I do is achieved by taking the most difficult route possible. We can’t just up and move…we have to get ourselves into circumstances that draw it out into a long, excruciating, stressful, never-ending process repeated way too soon after the initial long, drawn-out move and house re-do. Worst of all, it’s causing me to miss my very favorite time of the year. While I was busy loading a trailer and getting it to our new abode, picking out paint, and cleaning sludge, spring happened. And I missed it. Turkeys are going un-hunted. Morel mushrooms are going un-gathered. Flowers are going un-smelled. Birds are going un-watched. Save for a few galvanized tubs of tomatoes, the garden is going un-planted.

Stress has reached new levels – you haven’t lived life on the edge until you’ve driven an overloaded truck and enclosed trailer complete with two dogs down scenic Hwy 14, where the curves are so sharp a person has been known to see their own tail lights.

This week at Chateau Pee-Pee, we were able to retrieve a load of flooring and paint a room. At this rate we’ll be settled in about three years, but with hubby’s way-too-demanding job and still caring for a home three hours away, we’re doing the best we can. We should be paying someone to do the work, but you can’t get blood from a turnip, so the work falls to us to try to complete in our spare time. At least the pee smell is mostly gone. We should now change the name to Chateau Paint Fumes, which is much preferable. While paint fumes aren’t high on my list of favorite smells, the scent does say “Progress.” However, it’s hard to get the image out of my head of Tom Hanks in, “The Money Pit.”

Now, aside from being stressed out, we’re caught in limbo. Our Mountain Home house no longer feels like home, nor does our new house feel like home just yet. If there’s one good thing to be said for the way we seem to do things, it’s that if we ever DO get settled and relaxed and into a routine, we’ll greatly appreciate what everyone else seems to take for granted. Right now that seems a long way away, but I know it’ll eventually get here…one step at a time. I hope for your sake I can do it without too much whining.

Just Another Racist Extremeist

2010-04-16T08:17:00.004-05:00

Today I had another post all ready to go, but then I realized I was being a big fat chicken, already playing into negative media coverage. Last night I attended the local Tea Party. According to MSNBC, which I had on while I worked around the house yesterday afternoon, this makes me an idiot, a racist, an exteremeist, and part of a "dangerous fringe" of society who practice in "hate speech" and don't want to pay their taxes. Hm.

I guess since I'm concerned about more and more entitlement programs on the way - entitlements that have no incentive but encourage relying on government for needs, outrageous spending of our tax dollars (when only 50% of households actually pay taxes), a debt that defies all logic that is going to bite us solidly on the ass, and a lack of concern for governmental spending in the face of that debt, not to mention the fact that we now have a healthcare bill that was crammed through in secret without regard that a majority of the American people were screaming to slow down - I'm all those things MSNBC commentators spouted about anyone dumb enough to attend a tea party. I guess we're just supposed to sit down and shut up.

Sorry, I just can't. No matter what the "unbiased media" has to say, I've been to a few of these things now, and have never seen the mob-mentality or rampant racism supposedly present at these gatherings. Matter of fact, yesterday I met and spoke with Princella Smith, who is running for Congress in Arkansas's 1st District. The more I hear from her, the more I like her...despite my disagreement one one particular issue, the rest are right in line and for me hold more importance for our country.

http://www.princellasmith.com/

I first heard Princella speak at another, totally unpolitical event, and during a web search to find out more about her views and political stances since I happen to live in this disctrict, I encountered ALL KINDS of real hate speech from people with opposing viewpoints. Holy cow. The double-standards are astounding.

This administration has clearly shown that they're not going to take our concerns into consideration. Isn't that the foundation this country was built on? Shouldn't thoughts and concerns of a large number of citizens be at least taken into consideration, rather than ridiculed and ignored? How do you THINK people are going to feel? Large demonstrations should be expected. I may not agree with every single issue brought to concern by Tea Party goers, but the real underlying issue, bringing different people from various walks of life and backgrounds together, is that a growing number of citizens are feeling left out, forgotten, and taken advantage of.

So yup, say hello to your friendly neighborhood extremeist.

Happy Early Birthday to Me

2010-04-12T08:59:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I received my birthday present from Marden a couple of weeks early. He gave me two reasons for jumping the gun - #1) He's not sure if the Army will let him be in town to properly celebrate my three-and-a-half decades, since April is a crazy month in his world, and #2) he already had it and he can't keep a secret. I know the second reason to be a solid truth. The boy CANNOT keep a secret when it concerns a gift. It's unreal. I have it on good authority that he had a carefully concocted plan to hide this item in his car, then transfer it to his office until closer to the day. However, within 10 minutes of his arrival at home from a conference this weekend, he disappeared. I just figured he was cleaning out his car, until I heard strumming coming from the porch. I went to investigate, and I was presented with this:

Whoohoo! It's a banjo! A Deering Goodtime 5-string open-back banjo, to be exact...the very no-frills beginner model. As I sit here typing, it's over on the couch, staring at me reproachfully, as if it's saying, "Oh geez...I got YOU? You don't know the first thing about a banjo." And it would be right. I really don't know the first thing about a banjo, except that I want to learn. I should probably go over and make friends with it, but it's very intimidating.

I mentioned to Mom that I was probably crazy for wanting to learn the banjo. She caught me a bit off-guard when she didn't hesitate to agree. :) Oh well, I'm no stranger to family and friends thinking I'm an odd duck...this is just the first time Mom chimed in. In all fairness, I did ask. It is a little nuts since I am not only still light-years from mastering the fiddle, but I seem to be collecting hobbies the way some people collect stuff. I'm a Hobby Hoarder. Doesn't a cable channel have a show for that? I just realized the other day how many hobbies I have...I have hobbies I've forgotten I have until I run across the stuff for that hobby, which comes with it's own kind of guilt. It's just that there are so many things I want to do. I don't want to wake up one day at ninety years old, realizing that I never tried anything because I was afraid of failing or afraid of what people thought. Regret is one of the worst feelings in the world...I hate feeling regret more than anything. To tell the truth, I AM sometimes afraid of what people think...but I'm more afraid of the regret if I don't try to cram in as many interesting things as I can into this life. If people think I'm a little off, so be it. But, the truth is that I do need to pare down some hobbies, discard the ones that didn't stick, and get more serious about others. That, however, is another blog post.

The reasons that kept me from pursuing banjo in the past included a lack of true interest, lack of money, lack of a teacher, and the fact that they're heavy and big and cumbersome, and finally - all those freaking finger-picks. Then I discovered that there are different kinds of banjos along with different styles of playing, and the banjo used in my favorite genre of stringed music - Old-Time Americana Roots stuff - most often uses the clawhammer method of banjo-ing. I don't really know the reason it's called "clawhammer", and I couldn't find a reason why, but I like to think it's because you hold your picking hand like a claw, then hammer on the strings. No finger-picks involved. It's open-backed, so no heavy resonator. It's simple, and I like simple. Once I discovered the clawhammer style and these light-weight banjos, my interest quickly went from , "eh" to "OH!."

I'd probably never seriously considered learning the banjo if not for my Folk Alliance experience, where I learned the difference between banjos, was told repeatedly that it was one of the easier stringed instruments to learn, and was pursuaded that learning another instrument would help me understand music theory, jamming, and chording whatnot. Even when I protested, "But I'm just starting the fiddle!", I was told that most musicians eventually pick up another instrument, and it would just fuel my drive to learn. Once I displayed the least bit of interest, banjos were thrust into my arms and I was instructed to "mess around with it a bit." I think they knew I'd get hooked.

I guess that's when I started mentioning banjos to my husband, and he took the hint. Though, I really did want the waffle iron that I requested so I could make our own whole-grain waffles. I guess he thought that wasn't a very good birthday present. I suppose I can get a waffle iron any time...I mean, I've made it this far without one. But, I'm super-excited, if a bit intimidated, by the prospect of getting to know this banjo. Much more excited than if I were making waffles...although waffles are exciting, too.

Hard Times at Chateau Pee-Pee

2010-04-09T17:47:00.005-05:00

The past week I've been without internet access - which feels uncomfortably like being without a limb - while we finally, FINALLY, took possession of our new house on Camp Robinson. (Therefore this may be a longish post...it feels so great to have my hands typing away at a keyboard again I may have a hard time stopping.) Unfortunately, the day that was supposed to bring great joy instead brought intense frustration, anger, and not just a few tears as I walked through the house, stumbling over all the broken furniture, trash, and just utter crap the former tenants left not only in the house, but all over the yard, on the porches and in the storage buildings. My eyes watered at the stench of cat pee soaking the carpets and the unmistakable odor of outright filthy living. I quickly regretted rebuffing the offers from my folks to come and help with pre-move prep.

Mom, you're entitled to a big "I told you so." I humbly accept.

We spent an entire afternoon just clearing the flotsam left in and around the double-wide to stack on an ever-growing refuse pile, which the former owner promised to take care of. I'm not holding my breath on that one, but at least we got it out of our way and consolidated into one big heap. One thing I'll never understand is how poeple spend money on things, then don't take care of them. The sheer amount of once-nice items that were not cheap, but that had been abused and neglected until they were junk was unbelievable. A few things left behind were usable, such as a barely-used automatic dog-waterer I happen to know costs about $40 at Petco. I'm guessing money wasn't a huge concern to these folks. It's amazing what you can learn about people by going through their discarded stuff. They seemed to have the attitude that many people have today - "don't take care of it, then don't fix it - just buy a new one."

After we got most of the junk and trash cleaned up, we turned our attention to state of the house. Now, I've never been accused of being an immaculate housekeeper. I seem to have contracted that recurring disease knows as "clutteritis", letting things pile up, forgetting to put things away after use, and allowing laundry to accumulate while waiting to be folded. I also occasionaly give in to the "do-it-laters" when faced with a beautiful day or good book. However, despite my failings as a neat-freak, I've never felt my home was actually dirty. Oh, it accumulates dirt and dust, our shower is indeed a magnet for soap scum, and there are items in the back of the fridge that could possibly be designated as some new life-form. But, I do excercise my vacuum, broom, mop, dust rags, and sponges at least once a week...and every couple weeks I try to make a foray through the fridge to discard food relics. While my goal is to one day live in such a way that at any given time my house looks as though there is a place for everything, and everything is in it's place, in reality I'm happy if at any given time someone can walk in and feel comfortable. Plus, the dirt that is in my house is my dirt...and that's different.

In our new house, the former owners weren't bothered by even the most meager methods of housekeeping. Matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that to accumulate that much filth in the short time they lived in this house, not once was a vacuum run over the carpets or a sponge passed over the showers. How do people live in such dirty conditions? I'm sure bonafide neat-freaks ask the same questions about my house, so I guess it's all relative.

In any case, the accumulated filth left a grimy film over every surface, which collected dust, hair, food...and I'm not sure what else - I really don't want to know. I'll not go into great detail, but after a short time of cleaning it wouldn't have surprised us to find Jimmy Hoffa somewhere in the mess.

I'll quit grossing you out, but I will say that I expect some sort of Lifetime Achievement Award for spending two solid hours mopping up the filth-encrusted sludge that had accumulated behind and under the stove and fridge. *shudder* Due to the intense odor of cat urine, we started calling our new place "Chateau Pee-Pee"...it has a nice Frenchy ring and it helped us keep up our sense of humor, which we were quickly losing.

(I'll also spare the details from the guy who took over the former house-owner's office and had to clean it...but I will say it included boogers. Yes...boogers.)

Once we got the carpet and pad out, which took several days, the smell GREATLY improved. And, we were delighted to find that the floor was undamaged from the "moisture." After a few days of intense cleaning (and a lot of bleach), greatly aided by Marden's folks chipping in, the house not only lost all trace of the initial horrible stench, but started feeling a bit more friendly, as if Chateau Pee-Pee really could actually be our home one day in the near future, and the dark cloud over my head started to dissipate slightly.

On an additional bright note, we also continued having flooring success. As I mentioned before, we decided to go with Ron Pack Carpet and Flooring. We worked with Pamela, who came out to take measurements and give us a quote. Unfortunately the flooring we'd initially picked turned out to be a bit more expensive than we thought, and with the sheer square footage we needed it flew right out of our price range. That's not hard to do with 2700+ square feet to cover in flooring. We wanted good quality that would hold up and not look cheap, but that prospect was starting to appear impossible. It was either break the bank, or lower our quality standards and risk getting something that not only looked cheap but that wouldn't hold up. Pamela was sympathetic to our plight, though, and had brought some samples of high-quality flooring she had only in small amounts, but that she thought we might like. Long story short - after Pamela scoured their warehouse as well as the warehouse in Ron Pack's other location, and we ended up with really nice, thick, richly "hand-hewn" textured laminate flooring that is normally very expensive. We did have to go with four slighly different floors, but the trailer is so huge that I don't think it'll look patchworky, and Pamela did find enough of one floor to do the main part of the house all the same. It's not what I would've picked for my dream house - a little dark for my taste - but for this house it'll work, especially with all the windows and natural light it has, and after the walls are brightened up with some fun paint. And it DEFINATELY works for the pocketbook - Pamela was able to get the entire house floored for $1.07 per square foot. We left Ron Pack's parking lot in a state of almost giddy relief.

This whole experience makes me wonder, "HOW do we always get ourselves into these situations???" It seems I'm always redoing a house. It seems I've been redoing houses and apartments every year since college. I sincerely hope against hope that this is the one...this is where we'll land for a significant amount of time. We shall see.

A Must-See Movie

2010-04-01T08:07:00.000-05:00

This past weekend my husband and I rented a couple of movies. While the first was so bad I won't even mention it, I highly recommend the other, "The Stoning of Soraya M."

Based on a true story - this wasn't a fancy movie with a lot of special effects, or even a complicated plot - the title pretty much says it all. But to say it was real and gut-wrenching isn't giving this movie enough credit. Even squinting at the subtitles on our little 19" TV, I felt like I was part of the village where the story was taking place. I wanted to scream at the injustice, and cry for not only Soraya, but everyone who has and will continue to meet this fate in a modern-day culture where women are at best second-class citizens, and more commonly just property with about as much status and rights as a head of livestock.

If you do watch it, be aware that the actual stoning is intense and brutal. In a world where almost every movie we watch is jam-packed full of action, with twisted plot lines (when there is a plot), huge dramatic explosions, and gory computer-enhanced deaths, I wouldn't have expected "The Stoning of Soraya M" to profoundly affect me the way it did. Don't expect to feel uplifted after this movie - as the credits rolled my husband and I sat in stunned silence. Despite the absence of a warm-fuzzy after this movie, I had the feeling I'd just watched something profound and important, rather than an empty and pointless fabrication meant to stun us with special effects.

I'll quit blabbering on...just check it out and see for yourself.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1277737/

Score Another for Little Rock

2010-03-30T09:25:00.006-05:00

Lately I've really been trying hard to look at the bright side and think of all the advantages of moving from our peaceful Ozark hills home to the busy, loud, traffic-congested city, where I feel I stick out like a sore thumb and am intensly uncomfortable. I've never had the desire to live in the city. As a matter of fact, I've always loudly proclaimed that I'd never live in one. If there is one lesson I can't seem to get hammered into my thick skull, it's to never say never.

As THE MOVE to the city looms closer, it's harder to come to terms with the things I'm going to miss about living in a fairly remote area, especially now that spring is waking nature up and everything is starting to green. I'm sure I'll adjust just fine, though it may take a while.

Last week, though, I found a big reason to like Little Rock in addition to our big score in flooring.

If there's one big complaint I have about living in Mountain Home, it's that restaurant choices are limited. It's a price to pay for living out in the boonies. We don't eat out much, but when we do we don't have a lot to choose from, and that gets aggrivating when we're on a date night or it's a special occasion. One advantage of the city is a much wider assortment of eating establishments.

Last week while in the city we were trying to figure out what to do for supper, and Marden suggested we try Shotgun Dan's Pizza. He told me it was the best pizza ever. I'm always dubious when trying a new pizza, but "best pizza ever" is quite the gutsy proclamation. Pizza is my favorite food, and I can't say I'm picky when it comes to eating pizza - pizza is one of those foods where even if it's bad, it's still pretty good. Very few times have I come across a pizza I just couldn't eat. (Unless it has anchovies, which to me tastes like pizza dipped in the creek.)

But, while I'm not super-picking about eating pizza, I'm enough of a connoisseur to carefully place pizzas into different categories based on my own preferences. For example:

Excellent: Jem Dandy's Pizza in my hometown, Pappa's Pizza (I grew up with this pizza...the restaurant is no longer there, and I'm not sure if the people who bought the recipe are still in business), and Pizza By Stout in Joplin, MO.
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Very Good: House of Pizza, U.S. Pizza, etc.

Good: Papa John's, Dominos, and a few other pizza chains, DiGiorno frozen pizzas.
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Edible: Totino's Party Pizza, and those little pizzas the Schwann's truck brings.
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Ok If You're Starving: School Cafeteria Pizza.

I didn't have a whole lot of faith in Shotgun Dan's pizza. I should've given Marden more credit. I'm pretty sure it IS the "best pizza ever", and I'm also sure we'll be giving them a lot of business. Thin delicious crust, but still soft enough, and piled with toppings. It definately fits into the "Excellent" cagetory. As we happily stuffed ourselves with the cheesy goodness, we decided this discovery makes THE MOVE a lot more bearable.

In Search of Flooring

2010-03-28T07:32:00.003-05:00

Busy week here at The Homestead, thus my lack of blogs this past week. THE MOVE looms over us, and I'm anticipating it with both eagerness and dread. A trip to Little Rock this week only cemented those feelings. I'm eager to get moved and settled, and actually live with my husband in the same house all the time (what a novel concept), yet I dread the actual act of moving and everything that comes with it. Best to just put your head down and grit your teeth and muck through while trying to see the bright sides.

(By the way, it's amazing how much faster spring comes to central Arkansas than the northern part of the state. Here in the north, spring is very slowly creeping closer - trees are still very much brown. Yet a mere three hours south, spring has jumped off the high dive, every living thing going nuts with bloom and green. I do look forward to that.)

While waiting (and waiting) for the current family to vacate the house we're moving to on base, we've been going back and forth on whether to replace the all the worn carpets with new flooring. Long story short, we decided to replace the carpet in it's entireity with laminate wood flooring. I just hate carpet anyway, but considering the fact that the former family had six kids and a dog - a simple shampooing and carpet re-stretch is probably a waste of time and effort. Laminate is durable, looks nice, is easy to install, and truthfully - putting hardwood in a doublewide seems a bit like putting a gilded golden saddle on a sow. So, laminate it is.

Mission Impossible this past week was to find flooring at all costs. We resolutely set out for places that sold laminate. We started at the usual big chain home-improvement places, and as expected got the usual big chain home-improvement places service...which is to say, NONE. Anymore you just expect it. At Lowes we found some flooring we liked, but getting an estimate was like pulling teeth from the less-than-interested associate. He of course couldn't tell us anything about the flooring, he'd have to ask so-and-so, and they were out for the day, and he could only give a rough estimate because they'd have to come measure and inspect and that would be a fee, of course. Oh, and they couldn't do that for a couple weeks. We left with our rough estimate, which was nearly equal to the entire treasury of a small country.

Even less luck found us at Home Depot, where there was no shortage of associates only willing to help us find someone from that department who knew anything. Flooring was strung around the store haphazardly, no prices, and few descriptions, with samples on display racks that didn't work. We didn't even bother with an estimate.

Lumber Liquidators had some nice samples, but nothing struck us as being interesting enough to wait for the lone salesman, who didn't get off the phone and only glanced in our direction in the 20 minutes we browsed the showroom.

On to Ron Pack Carpet and Flooring, which was highly recommended by a reliable source. I can't say sing enough praises about this place based on our experience so far - from the time we walked through the door we were treated with respect and great interest. Isn't working on commission a wonderful thing? It can be, if you run into a good salesman - and the lady who helped us was at the top of her game. She talked to us for nearly two hours, peppering us with questions about our lifestyle, tastes, furniture, etc, and without being overbearing or pushy. She went into great detail showing us how the flooring was made, what made some more durable, what made some more expensive, how to install, mistakes people commonly make, and blah blah blah. It was a refreshing flood of information. She took note of what we gravitated to, and showed us relevant samples without trying to push us into more expensive categories. When we came to a decision, she gave us a loose price that blew the chain stores out of the water (she then assured us she could do even better once she took measurements), and in addition set up an appointment for a no-cost inspection of the house - on her day off, and a holiday at that - along with promises to bring more samples and scour the back warehouse for discontinued flooring that might save us money by using it in rooms we wouldn't be using as often.

I'm tentatively feeling good about this whole thing, simply based on our good flooring experience. We'll see how it pans out, but for now it seems we'll get what we want, at a price we can afford, sooner rather than later. Then we'll be moved, situated and comfy - hopefully in enough time to enjoy a few months together before hubby deploys. That's been the latest surprise bump in the road of our lives. But, I'm learning to wear a helmet...like I said, put your head down, grit your teeth, and muck through while looking for the bright sides.

Open Wide, America

2010-03-22T08:53:00.001-05:00

Today I was hoping to do some kind of cutsey post, but my heart just isn't in it. As everyone knows by now, the Healthcare Reform bill passed - barely - but it passed, by people who hadn't even read it. The bill not only covers healthcare, but sweeps into other ares, like education...and who knows what else, but we'll be finding out now that it's after the fact. Some are rejoicing, and some are not. Whichever side of this debate anyone is on, EVERY American should be upset in the manner this all went down. This was EXTREMELY controversial legisation that was shoved through regardless of it's controversy, regardless of the polls, regardless that nobody READ the bill (how unbelievable is that???), regardless that our President promised any healthcare legislation would be with transparency, without backroom deals, broadcast on C-SPAN for everyone to see. This in reality was a deal hashed out in back rooms, with under-the-table agreements to buy votes, in total secret and in violation of the Constitution - that will affect us all. The American people, who are supposed to be running the government through their elected representatives (the definition of a Republic), were completely ignored, with the excuse that this was passed instead "for the greater good." Those words should send a chill up everyone's spine, because that means as long as our elected officials justify acting upon that attitude, it we're no longer in control of our own destiny.
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I've heard a lot of people saying, "Well, it's all corrupt, so we might as well get out of it what we can" and "As long as I'm getting free stuff they can do what they want...besides they probably know what's best for us." That above all makes me saddest. If we'd gone into this Bill heads-up, eyes wide open, with the American people's wishes, I would concede. It wasn't anywhere close...call me a fool if you will, but I'm afraid of what's to come if people don't start to wake up.
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"These are the times that try men's souls" - Thomas Payne

The Finished Product

2010-03-17T08:41:00.001-05:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I hope everyone, Irish or not, is wearing some green. While we're on the subject of ancestry, I plan on doing some posts on my adventures with http://www.ancestry.com/. I had hoped to follow some family dead-ends, solve some mysteries, and iron out some heritage - what I have discovered so far is that my heritage is solidly what I started calling "American Sludge", which is a wide-ranging mixture of everything under the sun. But there is just enough Irish in there to justify a bit of green today.

But more on that later.

I previously promised to post some pictures of my honest-to-goodness, totally finished fiddle complete with purfling. And, here it is:

Yay! While I had my fiddle apart to make the purfling easier, I went ahead and made a couple of adjustments. First, Violet and I thought the bass could be a bit "bassier", so I shortened and thinned the bass bar a little. Some of the light bass is probably due to the sassafras top, which has a unique sound a bit different than traditional spruce tops. Next, in order to to add a bit of strength, I glued a spruce patch to an area close to the chinrest that got a bit too thin. I'd been nervous about that spot for a while, and the paper-thin strip of spruce has added surprising strength. I don't feel too bad about it - it is my first fiddle, after all, and I've learned that a great many fiddles have repair patches. In any case, once I got it back together everyone has agreed the sound is improved. We had a long day of jamming to prove it.

The disbelief that I actually made this little box that produces a fiddle sound is surreal. I don't mean that to sound big-headed at all...I just mean that it's hard to believe I started with a stack of wood and ended up with a musical instrument. It's more of a testament to Violet's teaching ability than my own woodworking talent. I'm not sure how many fiddles will be in my future, but I'm glad to have this knowledge tucked away. My philosophy is that any time you have the opportunity to add a new skill to your tool belt, jump on it. You never know when it's going to come in handy.

End note: With the update of my blogger layout, I also updated the text editor, which I'm still getting used to. It also seems to be without spellcheck. I will do my best to spell correctly, but if I goof a little, don't be too hard on me.

Don't be a Mavis

2010-03-13T07:55:00.002-06:00

The other day a good friend of mine told me about a conversation he had with a new girl he was going out with. I'll keep my friend anonymous...but for fun let's call him Earl. They hadn't really discussed politics, but one afternoon the conversation naturally veered that direction. Earl is a solid conservative in his 30's, and his prospective girlfriend (we'll call her Mavis) also in her 30's, identified herself as a liberal Democrat. For Earl, this wasn't necessarily a deal-breaker, but he wanted to know more about Mavis' opinions and viewpoints (utterly shocking for a small-minded, stupid conservative). After a short time, Earl discovered that excepting a couple of minor issues, Mavis' beliefs were actually very conservative. He brought the fact up that they had many important viewpoints in common, and she replied, "I've been voting for only Democrats since I was 18 - I mean, no matter what you say I'm not going to change now."

He asked, "Even if that means you're voting for people and principles you don't really believe in?"

Her reply: "This conversation is boring me."

Earl was flabbergasted, and decided maybe Mavis wasn't the girl for him. It wasn't her particular politics - people date and marry all the time who have extremely opposing viewpoints - it was her ignorance and apathetic attitude toward the well-being of our country, toward issues that affect us all, and our descendants, as well as the complete unwillingness to examine her beliefs and possibly have to admit that she could be batting for the wrong team.

Voting is not something to be taken lightly, even if you're not overly interested in politics. Maybe I'm asking too much, but it seems to me that every American who exercises their right to vote has the obligation to educate themselves on issues and ask themselves what they truly believe - if they're going to VOTE on them. How ignorant is it to stroll into a voting booth and vote down the list for one political party simply out of habit?

For anyone who's been reading my ramblings for any amount of time, you likely know where I stand politically. Many of you don't agree with my stances, and that's ok with me - I have no desire to live in a world where we all think alike, as long as I'm treated with respect. Not to mention, I strongly believe in that little right called Freedom of Speech.

I'm speaking up about this issue out of experience. Once in my lifetime, I was a lot like Mavis. I hated anything to do with politics, mostly because I found I didn't know enough about the issues, or the candidates, or even enough about myself to make a fair judgement. When anyone wanted to talk politics, I'd roll my eyes and change the subject, or worse - pretended to know what was going on while hoping nobody could see through my ignorance. Or, reprehensibly - agree just to fit in with my friends, classmates, and co-workers. At least I can say I wasn't an irresponsible voter - I just avoided voting. I was halfway through college before I really started to figure out where I stood - before I stopped calling myself a liberal because everyone around me called themselves one, and really started to question some of the things my leftist professors and artsy classmates spouted as irrefutable fact, and begrudgingly started paying attention to the news. Slowly I started to develop my own set of ideals and principles and to see where they fit into the political spectrum. Then I was encouraged by one of my roommates to read the book, "Atlas Shrugged", by Ayn Rand, which really made me think.
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Unless you want to invite constant ridicule and risk getting on the bad side of a professor, you just don't strut around the art department of a large college wearing your conservative beliefs on your sleeve, I kept my ideas to myself while listening to liberal students loudly proclaiming their beliefs, often rudely insulting my religion and political thoughts as if everyone in the room shared the same ideals. Every so often I'd join in the fray, calmly asking questions and pointing out facts, and it never failed - I was told over and over that my thoughts "weren't valid" or were just plain "stupid." I'm often surprised at how the names fly so easily from people who claim to be all about inclusion, empathy, and understanding. Since that time, now that the country is more politically divided than ever and I've become much more outspoken and involved, I've been called everything in the book - from just plain idiotic, irrationally idealistic, naive, racist, to just downright hateful - all without knowing me or my character.

We never had a debate team in high school, so I'm not sure of the specific debate rules. But I'm fairly positive that proper debate techniques do not include calling the other team offensive names.

The other day I took the Nolan Test, a political test which based on answers will place the test taker's results on a 4-part chart:

My results were far upper, barely right of center in the libertarian triangle-thing area. The results surprised me a bit, but not terribly. Lately I've been leaning a bit more toward the belief that the government just needs to butt out of our private lives, though I would've guessed not to be so far out of Camp Conservative. I'm not rushing out and changing my political affiliation based on a short internet test, but regardless of the outcome the test questions are worth mulling over.

http://www.nolanchart.com/survey.php

I encourage anyone even mildly interested to take this test, even if you're sure you know where you stand - it's a good way to get started. Read a bit about the test, how it's made, etc. And, if you disagree with the results, or the test itself - maybe you think it's biased, but do a little digging and find out why.

I would much rather have an informed political conversation with hard leftist statist progressive who knows what and why they believe they do rather than someone professing to be a Republican or Democrat, yet who has made no attempt at learning about politics and only votes eternally one way only because their parents and friends voted that way. Don't throw yourself into a blanket political party simply because of your stance on one or two issues - that's what I like to call "baby-out-with-the-bathwater" approach to politics. Like another friend of mine, Tony, said: "It's funny how ONE freakin' social issue will make some people throw LIFE in the toilet over common sense."

Don't be a Mavis. Put out the effort - be true to yourself, be informed, and be honest.

Every Year...

2010-03-12T06:48:00.001-06:00

You'd think that after 34 springs I'd no longer be surprised when that day comes along where it seems the sun decides to abruptly rise up sooner. But it never fails - every year I pop up out of bed exclaiming to myself "Wha?!? How late did I sleep?!?" only to turn to the clock and find I've actually woken up a good thirty minutes earlier than usual. Yesterday was my morning - I sprang out of bed like a jackrabbit (if jackrabbits slept in beds) expecting it to be halfway through the morning. It was 6:15.

When I was in school I usually had one day each spring I'd frantically run downstairs in a panicked wild-haired fizz wondering why Mom, aka The Wake-up Warden, let me sleep so late. Sometimes I could play it off that I was just really eager for breakfast, but most of the time I was busted and laughed at.

Am I the only one?

A Bike Made for Me

2010-03-10T08:49:00.007-06:00

What a beautiful day! While I'm waiting for the temp to rise just a bit before I go barrelling outside to enjoy the day (even if it IS just cleaning out the garage), I'll share a recent discovery - the bike made just for me.

I used to mountain bike a lot, but unfortunately that hobby is one that's fallen by the wayside. It's a shame, because I REALLY loved mountain biking, especially singletrack (that's where the trail is only wide enough for one bike, and it winds all through trees and rocks with hairpin turns). I was also in the best shape of my life when I mountain biked often - it's not only great for cardio, but it keeps you lean and buff. And, it's an incredibly fun way to stay lean and buff. The skinned up knees and elbows are a small price to pay, and nothing makes you feel alive like careening down the side of a hill on two wheels.

And, since we're moving to Camp Robinson, which has over fifty miles of mountain bike trails, what better time to dive back into the sport, and get hubby into it, too. He needs a good hard-core cardio activity that's easy on his gimpy ankle.

My old faithful GT mountain bike, which I got at a wonderful bargain from a guy I used to work with, is in disrepair and way out of date. I'm sad every time I see it, and feel the need to apologize to the poor bike for the state it's in. I plan on getting it fixed up, but since we'll eventually need two bikes I thought I'd peruse the new ones, just to see what's out there and how the sport has changed since my mountain biking days. And, my dream bike showed up:

Yes friends, it's the Gary Fisher MULLET. No joke. And it's perfect! Heavy duty, and a hard-tail, which means it doesn't have rear shocks. I prefer hard-tails, because you can really whip the back end around on sharp turns. I didn't think they even made mountain bikes without rear shocks anymore.

But, it only goes on the wish-list. Right now it's a bit above my price range...but it's nice to dream, especially of a mullet.

This Year's Garden

2010-03-08T06:50:00.002-06:00

Before I get started here, what do you all think of the new look? I'm forever a sucker for daisies.
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Despite not knowing exactly what kind of garden I'm going to get in this year, what with moving right during the most important gardening time and all, I went ahead and started some heirloom tomato and pepper seeds. If we're going to have anything, it's got to be tomatos and peppers, and later green beans.

Side note: I'm incredibly upset by the fact that of ALL the months our move could've fallen in, it's April. I can fudge the garden, but this is also TURKEY SEASON. TURKEY SEASON is a sacred three weeks not to be fooled with, and yet I'm somehow going to have to manage this obsession between toting boxes and painting over horrid nightmare-inducing floal wallboard. I just hope I get to take a few days to sit out in the woods.

*BIG SIGH*

Anyway...

I've never had much luck in the past with seed-starting, but thanks to a library book I think I've figured it out. Yes, that age-old lesson - if all else fails, read the directions. We'll see how it pans out. One huge mistake I made in the past was not "hardening off" the plants I'd started, which is getting the young plants gradually used to being outdoors. Instead I took the strong-looking new veggie plants and just plopped them straight into the garden and hoped for the best, which pretty much guarantees a mass plant genocide. As I mentioned some time before - I'm learning as I go.

I have TONS of seeds still waiting to be started, but I'm not sure yet whether to start them this year or wait until next year, when hopefully we'll be settled and I will have decided where to put the garden. Maybe in the coming years my dream of having a beautiful heirloom garden, as well as supplying all my friends and family with seeds and plants born without freaky labratory genetics.

We were informed by the current tennants that we'll be constantly battling the local overpopulated deer herd, who view gardens and flowers as their own personal all-you-can-eat buffet. You'd think if we were going to have issues with deer, it would've been at our current homestead - out in the middle of nowhere. But, I guess the dogs kept them at bay, and of course deer here are a bit more wary. The post deer are used to people not being a threat.

We'll see about that. The first time Bambi snacks on my berry bushes, it's war.

Adventures in Purfling

2010-03-05T07:30:00.001-06:00

I know I've had a lot of fiddle-heavy posts lately, but you'll just have to bear with me.

If you remember a couple posts back talking about my fiddle I mentioned how it was completed, except for purfling. In review - purfling is the line that goes around the edge of a stringed instrument - made of three small strips of wood sandwiched together, which in turn make one strip that is colored black/white/black. In order to install this strip, it's required to dig a tiny "ditch" into the surface of the fiddle, between about 1/8" and 1/16th" inch deep, poke in the purfling with glue, trim the overhang so the purfling is flush with the fiddle surface, sand, and then apply final finishing.

Not all fiddles have purfling. Some, especially old hand-made ones, don't have any lines along the edges. Most fiddles at least have a drawn-on or painted line - Violet's earliest fiddles as well as the ones here Dad made have lines drawn with pencil. I think she told me she didn't do inlay purfling until fiddle #7 or #8.

I didn't add purfling to my fiddle earlier because I was in a hurry to get my fiddle playable for Folk Alliance. I wanted to add it for two reasons - #1) because it looked unfinished without a line, and #2) I wanted to be a fancypants.

The timing was perfect to start last week. After returning from Memphis, as I was showing it off to my friend Judith, she noticed an area where the top had come loose from the sides. Apparently when gluing on the top, I didn't get enough on that area. I had heard during the Folk Alliance during a lobby jam session the last night we were there a small *pop*, but during my quick inspection I didn't notice the break. (In a related note, apparently the break at some point after my initial inspection was big enough to let my rattlesnake rattle escape. As much as I hate to have lost it, since it belonged to the timber rattler I kept while working in state parks for programs (he/she lost it after shedding - I didn't chop it off), I'd give about anything to see the Mariott worker's face who found it.)

Since some of the glue between the top and sides was already loose, I decided to go ahead and take the top off to make installing the purfling easier. I had to tell myself that sometimes it takes a few steps back to go forward, along with a *BIG SIGH*...

Once I had the fiddle disassembled, it was time to practice on some wood scraps with Violet's purfling knife. I assumed the purfling knife would make this job cake. I was wrong. Now I know why most "how to install violin purfling" sites and videos on the internet show the installer using a dremel tool with an edging guide. The whole idea of installing purfling is scary. After a good two hours of practice with the special knife, I came to the conclusion that a regular finely-sharpened pocket knife was going to work just as well or better. It still took me an hour of false starts on the actual fiddle top - the evil-looking knife hovering millimeters above that perfectly finished surface - before I summoned the guts to plunge the knife into the wood. Did I mention it was scary?

Thirty minutes into the cutting, I was dismayed at the results. It appeared that a drunk termite had haphazardly eaten it's way around the edge of my formerly beautiful fiddle top. Choking back frustrated tears, I soldiered on, hoping for the best, uttering "Oops" and "Crap" and other colorful oaths as the knife slipped and skidded hither and yon. I decided the word "purfling" should be an explicative, and from then on I'd use it as such. A few more knife slips (one solidly into my finger), and a few more yells of "PURFLE!!!" made Violet crack up, while Joe smugly stated, "That's why I'm not doing purfling - I'm going to woodburn my line in." This earned him a major stink-eye, and gave me some resolve to prove him wrong.

I kept hacking away (sending Joe several eye-daggers for good measure), and when I got home hacked some more until I could fit a piece of purfling in one of the grooves, then went to bed. Then ten minutes later I got out of bed, because I just couldn't sleep knowing I might've royally screwed up my fiddle top. After much struggle getting the purfling in the ditch, I glued it in and tried to read a book while the glue set, then trimmed and sanded the purfling flush with the top.

Holy cow! I didn't screw up! What looked pretty ragged and crude when I left Violet's house actually turned out much nicer than I thought it ever could. The ragged edges were fixed when I sanded, and any big gaps were filled with the glue that had seeped up and mixed with the sawdust from the sanding, rendering them invisible. *BIG WHEW!* I could finally go to sleep knowing I didn't mess up, though if I do more purfling in the future, I do believe I'll go with the dremel tool.

Even after the ditches were dug, getting the purfling in the ditches was a challenge all it's own. Some pieces went in easy as pie - like that first piece. Some pieces did not. One piece shot across the room and I spent an hour looking for it until I found it under the refrigerator. The only way I found it was by noticing Puck staring under the fridge. My only guess is that it ricocheted off the couch? Who knows. Another piece fell from my grasp while I was working out on the porch (my skin sucking up some sunshine on a rare nice day), bounced off my glass of water, and fell down a crack. Once again I found myself thankful for no visible neighbors as I sucked in my breath in order to squirm under the porch, through the mud, and over sharp rocks to retrieve the piece, then squirm back out again - backwards - muddy with skinned elbows. I thought briefly of letting that piece go, but it was my last bit and I wasn't going to delay the fiddle another week due to minor technical difficulties.

Violet has already determined that I'm to start on fiddle #2 as soon as #1 is completely completed. I guess since I already have the wood, not to mention the free direction of a famous fiddle-maker who thinks I have talent, I should grab the opportunity and run with it. I think #2 will go much faster, now that I sort-of know what I'm doing, despite the probable fact that any "real" by-the-book violin-makers reading my updates are likely screaming "THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO THAT!!!" Heh. I guess it's my (as hubby says) "stubborn streak as wide as the Mississippi" in action.

It's also learning from a living piece of our past (Violet, of course), who remembers vividly the days before cars were mainstream, before phones, before internet, before you could go to the mall and get a pair of shoes, and countless other things we take for granted. But especially, before you could flip on the radio and choose from any number of different genres of music. Before you could go to a music store and buy a handsome factory-made fiddle. She comes from a time when square-dances were the height in entertainment, and old-time music wasn't "old-time", but the current "Top 40." When your musical instrument was often hand-made, and maybe didn't sound technically "right", but sounds so good when playing that kind of music. - the way a hand-made instrument and old-time tunes should sound.

Well, stay tuned for a pic of the FINISHED no foolin' completely done fiddle. No joke.

Happy Birthday Lucy

2010-03-04T07:00:00.001-06:00

Happy 7th Birthday to Lucy!
( Oh shut up, we don't have kids.)

Eagle Nest

2010-02-27T09:52:00.003-06:00

This is a bald eagle's nest here locally on Lake Norfork. I drive by it every time I go to town and make a point to at least glance in it's direction, if I don't stop along the side of the road to watch the goings-on. Sometimes there's nothing much to see, but some days I get lucky and can view both prospective eagle parents, sometimes just one, going about their eagle business. They seem unfazed by people stopping to watch.

It struck me the other day as I was driving by that maybe I was taking this pretty wondrous opportunity to keep tabs on an eagle's nest for granted. Not everyone gets to see an eagle's nest every day and the thought "blog fodder!" crossed my mind, so I grabbed my camera and snapped a pic. The mama is sitting in the nest, though you can't see her due to distance and angle - you'll just have to trust I didn't take a picture of a sparrow's nest. The nest is so massive usually all a person can see is her head poking out.

Dad and I set up his spotting scope last year to take a peek, and sure enough - she was there, her eye glaring a hole in us as if to say, "If I weren't busy with eggs at the moment, I would gladly fly right down there and rip your face off."

Folk Alliance - part Dos

2010-02-24T08:02:00.018-06:00

You're absolutely right, I am unabashedly milking our Folk Alliance experience for all it's worth by making it into two posts. But, as I've said before, it's my blog.

During fiddle lessons this week, Violet and I both lamented that we're still walking on a musical cloud, hearing tunes in our heads, still tapping our feet when there's nothing to listen to. After hearing so much music round-the-clock for days, it seems kind of quiet and empty this week. I guess there's always a little bit of blues that come around after a really great experience, even though you're glad to be back home. At least we have some really good new cd's to listen to.

Here's a few more pictures from last week.

This is Violet "lobby-jamming" with the banjo picker from the Virgina band "Old Sledge", Delmer Holland's grandson (white hat), and Matt Kinman from North Carolina. You can't see me since I'm of course behind the camera, but for most of these jam sessions I played fiddle on the tunes I could play and the spoons on the ones I couldn't. Matt Kinman is a crazy-good fiddler (as well as guitar and banjo-picker), and eventually he picked up a fiddle to play and handed me his guitar, drawling, "Here, you wanna jine in an pick 'iss fer a while?" Sadly, I don't know the first thing about guitars, and had to decline, to which he smiled and said, "Girl, you need to be larnin'...yer sure missin' out."

Yeah, tell me about it...

One evening during all the crazy goings-on, I left Violet and Sterling listening to another old-time band to go hear Ray Wylie Hubbard, who was performing in one of the bigger, very crowded, conference rooms where they were feeding live to XM Radio. I caught a second-row aisle seat because I had it on good authority from my brother that I didn't want to miss seeing Hubbard. It's hard to put Hubbard into a particular genre - he's kind of Texas Red Dirt country meets blues meets back-porch strumming meets rock. My brother was right for insisting I make a point to see him...unlike most of the performers at this conference, Hubbard has gained some modest popularity, and I was familiar with a few of his songs. But not just that, he was a heck of a performer, even with just himself and a guitar. I was really hoping to hear "Redneck Mother", but he said he was playing some of his "better songs" he'd written due to this "higher class" audience. That made me laugh out loud. So, he mostly sang ballads, but he did sneak in "Snake Farm", which I'm pretty sure is my new favorite song. Kind of makes me want to go get a tattoo of a python wearing a sailor hat eating a mouse. Not really...

One of the events we participated in was the Fiddle Summit, hosted by Matt Brown. Fiddle Summit consisted of a bunch of fiddlers from very different genres and playing styles. This is Tennessee fiddler Delmer Holland (what better name for a fiddler) and his grandson showing off Delmer's old-time style, with Matt looking on. As you can imagine, Delmer and Violet hit it off like peas and carrots.

Delmer is quite an inspiration to me. He was a guitar picker who's Dad and other relatives played the fiddle, but he'd never had much interest in learning. When he was in his 60's their band needed a fiddler, so he took the instrument up and taught himself. Now in his 80's, he's an old-time fiddling whiz, winning competitions left and right. His story is a good lesson on "it's never too late." In addition - I couldn't tell by listening to him but he ONLY notes with his first two fingers! He said when he was learning, he could just never get the other two fingers to work...pretty amazing if you hear him play. (To hear him, youtube "The Blue Creek Ramblers")

Here's Matt Kinman at the Fiddle Summit. I was quite enamored with Matt's playing - you can't tell from a picture how he was flying all over that fiddle in some crazy cross-tunings while playing it in the real old-time style - with the instrument at his chest. This is the way Violet's Dad played, and how she first started playing. I can play a few songs this way, but certain parts of my anatomy make it difficult. That, and, I tend to get wild tapping my foot, which makes this style of playing practically impossible for me at this point.

Here's Violet, as she says, "showing out" at Fiddle Summit. She was quite proud of my fiddle, and insisted on playing it during the Summit. I didn't argue.
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The Fiddle Summit was our last scheduled appearance, and we spent the rest of our time jamming with other Old Time enthusiasts. Matt Brown writes about us on his blog:
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http://www.brownsdream.us/blog

It's funny that he recognized that the "Old Timers" (one of the conference organizers called us all "The Old Time Kids") couldn't resist jamming at the drop of a hat, in any given area at any given time, unlike some of the other music genre performers who were a bit more refined and reserved.

While at the conference I was asked what spurred me to all of a sudden learn the fiddle in my 30's. I don't have a really good explanation for why I never started early, except that it didn't really cross my mind as something I could actually do. Kind of like when you're a kid wishing, "I wish I could go to the moon and live in a rocket ship and have a pet Martian." I'm sure if I'd asked, my folks would have done whatever was needed to get me playing, but as it was my heart wasn't really into the piano lessons they were paying for, and I was thinking much more about sports and boys and how to finagle my way into getting the latest "in" pair of jeans. I've always been drawn to the fiddle and stringband music, hid my bluegrass cd's under the driver's seat in my car in college, and always kept it in the back of my mind that I might want to learn someday - someday when I could stand the "un-coolness" of it. Then all of a sudden out of nowhere, age 30 smacked me right in the face, and I realized that I was either going to spend my life whining and wishing I'd played a fiddle, or I was really going to buckle down and do it. I had a false start in my 20's - the desire was there, but not the dedication it takes to learn a particularly difficult instrument.

I've been surprised to discover how many people find an interest in learning an instrument, a language, or an appreciation for a new sport or hobby far into adulthood, so I don't feel QUITE so "johnny-come-lately" as I have in the past. In addition, I have the hope that I can become a good musician in my lifetime, even though I didn't start as a kid - as long as I'm having fun.
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By far, the best part of last week was the playing of music simply for the sheer joy of it, and not caring who was listening. When you can join in with other instruments, everything else in the world falls away and it's just pure happiness. I guess that's why I'm addicted. At one point in our jams, we'd attracted nearly 30 other players, and I was surprised to notice that not only had we attracted all those musicians, but quite a crowd of onlookers taking pictures, as well as a documentary film crew.

The best compliment I received all week, besides the person who told me my fiddle didn't look handmade (that had me walking in the clouds), was the lady who'd been playing fiddle her whole life, turned to me in a jam session and said, "Wow - how do you do that? You play JUST like Violet." I nearly melted into the floor.

I really look forward to having much more music in my future.

Folk Alliance - part Uno

2010-02-21T10:03:00.015-06:00

(Thank-you Hannah for the title)

Whew! After nearly five days at the 2010 Folk Alliance Conference held at the massive downtown Marriott in Memphis, as Grandpa would say, I'm worn to a frazzle. It's nice to be home after what had to have been some of the craziest days of my entire life, but what a great experience and awesome opportunity it was to hob-nob with some truly amazing musicians and performers.

I can safely say this conference was really nothing like I expected. Yes, there was plenty of "traditional folk" performed by typical granolas that you think of when you hear the word, but this group's definition of "folk" encompasses MUCH more than I dreamed possible. There were Jazz and Blues groups - some with only string instruments, some with brass, Old Time string bands (my favorite, of course), Bluegrass bands, Cajun fiddlers, Gospel bands featuring steel guitars, International bands featuring everything from traditional Irish/Celtic performers to Australian bands with drums and didgeridoos - and everything in between, including blends of different genres and styles. I saw every instrument you could possibly imagine - aside from every stringed instrument from fiddles to cellos to harps, brass and wind instruments, harmonicas, every kind of drum (even trash can lids for cymbals)....I even saw a huge xylophone being wheeled through the lobby.

I witnessed some heated debate between many participants as to what the broad term "Folk" actually encompasses...which I found out was not just an ongoing debate, but additionally spurred by the Alliance's decision to recognize Bob Dylan with a Lifetime Achievement Award. Apparently this is a touchy subject with a lot of people in the folk world, and really I didn't understand the argument, but it seemed to center on "is Dylan really folk since he was popular and went electric?" Of course Bob Dylan wasn't there, but since his response likely would've been incoherent it probably didn't matter. During some performances, especially by older performers who were a self-proclaimed part of the "Big Folk-Scare of the Sixties" (whatever that was), disparaging remarks were made toward Dylan, as well as other popular folkies of the time like Peter, Paul, and Mary and Gordon Lightfoot. Apparently to some you're not "folk" if you get popular...because if you get popular you bow to "The Man" and are a puppet of "evil corporate America." Seriously - that is verbatim.

Eventually through the course of the week, Violet, Sterling, and I were drawn together with the other old-time string band musicians to hang out, visit, and jam, as well as listen to each other's performances.

The FA Conference is a bit hard to describe, but seems mostly to be a way for musicians, groups, singers, and songwriters to be heard by agents, producers, record label representatives, festival organizers, etc in the hopes of getting recorded or to be hired for gigs, and to just get a little publicity. The way the FA organizers allow so many performers to be heard is by having "Showcases" in all the conference rooms, one after another all evening. all at the same time. In addition, the three upper floors of the hotel were nearly round-the-clock smaller "Private Showcases", where in every room a performer or group were able to do a few songs for whoever could jam themselves into the room long enough to listen...each room on each floor a constant revolving door for all kinds of performers until well into the wee hours of the morning. The halls and elevators were crammed with agents with clipboards, musicians, instruments, and us. And while all this was going on, jam sessions were happening all over the place. In every nook and cranny of the huge fancy lobby, in the elevators, hallways, and even on the street outside just a few blocks from Beale street.

Our small part in this conference was mainly to get Violet to the Awards Ceremony, where she received her award and performed a song for a pretty huge audience. She also had a 30 minute interview in one of the conference rooms. Then, she was given a Showcase of her own to perform.

Here are some pics from the week. Unfortunately the pictures don't do the conference justice. If you can imagine a couple thousand people running around this hotel, all carrying instruments, jamming everywhere...that's pretty accurate. Music was coming from every corner of the hotel at any given time of day or night.

Here is Violet in her interview done by fiddler/banjo-picker/producer Matt Brown, from Pennsylvania.

Violet played "Buffalo Nickel" with plenty of accompaniment at the Awards Ceremony on Wednesday night for a crowd of several hundred in one of the hotel's big conference rooms.

Violet jamming with the awesome bluegrass group "The Chapmans", who play the kind of bluegrass that really rolls around in your gut. I'd seen them perform at Silver Dollar City before, and they were one of the best groups at the conference - definitely the best in the bluegrass genre.

Sterling and Violet playing in the Showcase, along with Matt Brown (banjo) and Tracy Schwartz (guitar). By the time she finished, there wasn't even standing room left, and people were stacked out in the hall. To say Violet was "The Belle of the Ball" is pretty apt.

More to come! There are just too many pictures, and too much to describe in just one post.

My Fiddle

2010-02-12T12:47:00.013-06:00

Yesterday, after a year and a half of hard work, big aggrivations, small victories, and a lot of inhaled sawdust and literal blood, sweat and tears, I finished my fiddle. Once I got the strings strung, the soudpost set (a hard thing to do with shaking hands), and the instrument tuned up, I handed the fiddle over to Violet so she could play the first tune, which was "Angeline the Baker", followed by "Marmaduke's Hornpipe." Then I played a few songs. Then we both got giddy and giggly because is sounded so good, and started calling people to hear it...I'm pretty sure we hit all of Violet's kids, as well as my folks and husband.

Since everyone interested probably wants me to shut up and see what the finished product looks like, here are some pictures:

Here's my fiddle with the finish on, nearly ready for assembly. I used several coats gun stock finish, which REALLY changed the look and brought out the beauty of the sassafras, walnut, and cherry.

The completed walnut chin rest, ready to go on.
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Making the sound post, which is a round peg of soft pine about 1/4" thick which stands up between the top and the bottom inside the fiddle. Kind of tricky to get it set up and in the right place, especially when it's the only thing left before hearing the fiddle.
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Drumroll......Ta Daaa! Strung, tuned, and ready to play. This is also the part where I came dangerously close to crying.
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My fiddle mentor seems very pleased.
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Holy Cow, it sure does feel WONDERFUL to have completed something I wasn't really sure I'd be able to fully tackle. Technically it isn't "completed", as I still need to add the purfling, which is the decorative line that goes around the perimeter of the top and back. It also supposedly will stop a crack if it forms. I was on the fence about adding it and wanted to take some time to think about it, but now that I've pondered it over, it does seem unfinished without it.

Even without purfling, I am incredibly happy with the result. The fiddle has good deep tone and is very loud, which was exactly what I was after. For at least two weeks of hard playing the fiddle will continue to improve in sound, and as the wood and strings settle it'll gradually even out and keep changing a little over the next six months or so. At least, that's what I'm told happens with a new fiddle.

I've already been asked if there will be a number two. I think yes...I already have some beautiful flamed maple for a back and spruce for a top, which will make a much more "traditional" fiddle, as most factory made fiddles are made with maple and spruce - not sassafras and cherry. And of course I can't give up my days with Violet, though after we move they'll likely have to be spread further apart. Violet is already planning on me making another. She told me yesterday, "you've got the touch." Haha...I don't know about "the" touch, but as much fun as I have both playing and making them, even though I'm not that good yet, I think fiddles will be sticking with me for a good long while.

Nearing the End of My Fiddle Quest

2010-02-08T07:40:00.015-06:00

Before I start talking fiddle, I want to say congrats to the Saints for their first Superbowl win. I wish I were a little more invested in the game last night, but unless the Chiefs are involved (fat chance there), or I have the opportunity to root against the Broncos, Raiders, or the Cowboys, it's hard to get really into it. But, I watched the game, and called my friend Laura, a New Orleans native, upon the interception that pretty much sealed the game. I can only imagine what Bourbon Street was like last night by the way Laura answered the phone...she had slipped back into New Orleans speak, screaming, and I couldn't understand a word she said for a good five minutes. She was excited, to say the least. Enjoy basking in the glory, Laura!

Back to the real point of this particular blog post...

For a year and a half now, I've been keeping what I hope are interested readers updated on the progress of making my own fiddle under the tutelage of famed fiddle-maker Violet Hensley. This week I'm finally nearing the end of what feels like a monumental quest, and it's probable, barring no unforeseen difficulties (and I've learned in fiddle-making to expect the unexpected catastrophe) that this will be the week I finally find out what my fiddle will sound like. However, it won't be me doing the initial playing - Violet already called dibs on the first song. To me this is akin to the Pope giving a blessing (if I were Catholic), so when the time comes I will happily hand it over.

Here are some highlights of the past few weeks:

Heating the hide glue (it's made from animal hide, which should give a good idea to how it smells) that is traditionally used to glue the body of the fiddle together. This glue is water soluble and makes future repair jobs possible, since water can be used to break down the glue without damaging the wood.

Top glued and clamped...

This was a biggie - gluing on the fingerboard. I used Elmer's glue for this step, which feels oh so permanent, which meant no room for error getting it lined up with where the end pin will go, risking the strings not lining up with the fingerboard. I also did some heavy-duty stressing out because it turned out my neck wasn't really tall enough, so notice the strip of "decorative" maple between the neck and fingerboard.
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Carving the chin rest out of walnut. I could've just bought a plastic one, but I wanted to make as much as possible by hand. (I keep reminding myself of this when I know the fiddle could've been completed long ago by using factory-made pieces for the end-pin, saddle, nut, chin rest, and tail piece).

I'm already wondering what to do when this fiddle is complete. During this difficult transition time when hubby is working in Little Rock while I'm here trying to sell the house and get packed, fiddle lessons have not only kept me grounded, but have been a real outlet for stress relief. Soon, though, the whole "Hooter crew" will be together again, forging ahead into a new life phase. I hope fiddles will be a permanent fixture.

Stay tuned for the Grande Finale!

Spending Spree

2010-02-05T07:40:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I woke up to the omnious news that our country is in imminent danger of losing it's AAA credit rating.

Holy Cow.

I guess the thing that gets me the most is that as I did my morning cable news channel surf (even though Obama says we shouldn't watch these channels now), not everyone was reporting on this. And, most people don't get it. If we lose our AAA rating, interest rates will skyrocket, and life as we know it will change big-time. I should think that fact would be a little more important than discussing the latest American Idol episode. We're already seeing China, who owns the massive portion of our debt, starting to flex some political muscles.

And of course, all this talk of federal debt and spending has me thinking of our own debt and spending.

A few weeks ago our massive 40-something-inch rear-projection TV gave up the ghost and went out. For months now, we've been content to watch the ailing television, pretending not to notice the bright line forming at the top of the screen, which soon became a screen-wide permanent fixture along with an ever-increasing fuzziness and compression of the whole picture. A few weeks ago it degraded further, until the picture was like trying to watch a 3-D movie without the glasses, all slanted to the side. I resisted the knee-jerk reaction to run around the yard, arms flailing, yelling, "OH NO OUR TV IS DOOMED!"...and also resisted immediately jumping in the car and running to Sears to drop the several thousand dollars that we need to spend on new flooring in our new house on a new big-screen television instead.

It's amazing how quickly we adapt to technology. What we used to live just fine without are now considered essential parts of our lives. Daily Internet access, Smart phones, and ipods, as well as big screen TVs, are just a few of the things that didn't exist a few years ago, but now we can't seem to live without them.

When Marden and I first started dating, I was amazed he had such a huge TV (compared to my 19" I bought on a meager park ranger salary) and didn't think I could ever get used to it. Now that we've switched back to my old 19" upon the death of his big screen, I feel I should be using binoculars from the couch.

My husband summed up his feelings with, "I guess we need a new television." I was quick to agree...until it hit me - do we really? My 19" provides a clear picture, clear sound, and does everything our old TV did, just on a smaller scale. Do we really need to buy a new television just because this one, new just four years ago, is working fine but is just too small for our standards? Should we not wait until we're in a better financial situation to upgrade our television? Then answer is a big, fat YES...and not only that, it should be common sense.

The whole TV experience has me thinking about our current values and the way we spend money, and how we our definition of "needs" and "wants" has gotten a bit skewed. It's been discussed over and over again how Americans are not smart with money, and how we constantly spend beyond our means...and from the individual to our highest government, spending is totally out of control. It's the view of many economists that our cavalier attitude about money is what kicked our economy in the nether regions in the first place.

I've actually had the "unaffordable health care" conversation with an individual who was lamenting about not being able to afford health insurance, but who's house is chock full of the latest in entertainment technology. It's hard to take someone seriously when they are saying, "we just can't afford to buy our own insurance" when in the background there is a 50" flat-screen LCD television with a surround sound system topped off with a Blu-Ray player and 100+ movies and video games, not to mention the gazillion-channel HD dish package. Really? You can't afford $300/month for your family's health care? And the sad thing is, I'm afraid this person represents the majority. It's the entitlement mindset creeping in. The true feeling with some people is, "I shouldn't HAVE to spend $300/month on health insurance because I want all this other stuff."

I'm not going to beat the health care debate drum or get overly political in this post, but to me it's all pretty closely related. I hear people gripe about not having enough and that our government should do something about it, instead of taking steps themselves to improve their situation. Just go to Walmart and pay attention to what people buy - nearly every cart I see is full of luxury items and very unhealthy food choices.

I'm not in any way downplaying the seriousness of the state of our economy, nor am I putting everyone in the same category. There are plenty of people out there doing the best they can and making wise decisions with what they have who still need help. But I wonder about the attitude of our society as a whole. It seems the attitude of "keeping up with the Jones'" has become the acceptable norm rather than a negative way to conduct personal affairs. We're in bad need of re-evaluating what are "needs" and what are "wants."

Believe it or not - I'm not trying to be preachy. It's something I take serious and intend to seriously evaluate in my own life.

When we live in an ever-increasing entitlement mentality world where WANTS are now NEEDS...and people are looking to other sources for their perceived needs. It seems more and more people are choosing not to rely on themselves, but would rather look for the hand-out, without even really realizing it.

Amazing how the simple loss of television can cause you to question not only your own values, but the values of society as a whole.

"We must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt. We must make our selection between economy and liberty or profusion and servitude..." - Thomas Jefferson

"The democracy will cease to exist when you take away from those who are willing to work and give to those who would not." - Thomas Jefferson

"Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants. It is the creed of slaves." - William Pitt in the House of Commons, 1783.

"Any people that would give up liberty for a little temporary safety deserves neither liberty nor safety" - Benjamin Franklin

Snow!

2010-01-30T15:01:00.010-06:00

It's not often that we a substantial amount of snow here in north Arkansas, but we got lucky this week! Our immediate area had about a foot of the white stuff. Yeah, a lot of people gripe about it, which irritates me. Many Arkansas natives don't want to deal with snow, and the far-north yankee transplants puff out their chests and scoff that no amount of snow or ice could compare to what they had to deal with. I really enjoy snow, even if I am in the minority. I can see how living up north it would get old - the things that makes it so fun here is that #1) a good snowfall is fairly rare, #2) it stops life as we know it, causing a holiday-like atmosphere and a diversion from business-as-usual, #3) it makes me feel less guilty about spending the day curled up on the couch with a book, and #4) despite the fact that (as much as I hate to admit it) I'm in my mid-30's, it's fun to play in and breaks up the mundane blahs and blues of January.

I thought maybe the snow would stay around for a while, but the sun came out today (the day after the snowfall) and started making it stick. So, I took full advantage of abundant sticky snow. I REALLY wanted to take a sled to the top of the great big hill nearby, but unfortunately my mother made me promise "not to do anything stupid"...and sledding by myself, while hubby is stuck in Little Rock, out in the middle of nowhere possibly fits into that category.

Instead I decided to make a snowman...which when finished ended up being a trout.

And here's some snow pics from around the house:

Gettin' Folky

2010-01-28T09:13:00.005-06:00

A few months ago my fiddle teacher, Violet, received a letter announcing she had been awarded the Mike Seeger Scholarship to attend the 2010 Folk Alliance Conference in Memphis in mid-February. Mike Seeger, who died last year, was not only a very well-known guy (in a well-known family) in the folk music world as a musician (just Google him), but he was also, in a nutshell, hugely responsible for the popularity and preservation of old-timey, traditional, and folk music. His scholarship fund furthers the cause of preserving and promoting traditional music. For Violet it provides for her and an escort the registration fee for the conference, as well as a hotel room and gas money to get there, as well as a performance in a special Showcase meant to honor her and her achievements.

http://www.folkalliance.org/

And who is the lucky escort? Yep, you guessed it. Going to a folk music conference probably isn't too high up on most people's lists, but for me, an old-time music geek, the chance to attend something like this has me dancing on the ceiling. Originally a member of Violet's family was going to take her, but it seems nobody can get away for several days during that time. I promised to take her in the event nobody else could...I couldn't let her miss this event. Long story short, Violet did some shrewd finagling with the conference organizer, who seemed to be willing to stand on his head to get her there, and he has now agreed she can have two escorts - me - as her student, and Sterling - her 17 year-old guitar-playing grandson. (He's now dancing on the ceiling, too)

At first I thought this conference was only for American old-time string band front porch-type music, but I was mistaken. I've since discovered that "folk" actually encompasses a LOT of different music, played by a lot of "different" people...not just old-timey string band, but everything from Celtic stuff played by musicians from Ireland, to acoustic blues, to hairy arm-pitted women singing "If I Had a Hammer", to coffee-house beatnik style whatever-you-call-that, to fruity-acting guys playing flutes. And all taking up what seems to be the whole Mariott in downtown Memphis. In my youtube searches for this conference I've seen all kinds of instruments - ones you expect to see, like fiddles, guitars, banjos, dobros, base fiddles, etc, to the ones you don't expect - pan flutes, accordions, tubas (seriously), tambourines, bongo drums...you name it. In addition, this conference is a full round-the-clock experience, with people staying up all night, going from room to room, band to band, jam session after jam session. The whole conference is a celebration of folkish music by some of the best musicians in the world, as well as a way for musicians to find bands, and bands to find musicians.

The conference organizer asked if we'd like to be on the "quiet floor" or the "jamming floor." After seeing some of these videos, I think we made the wise choice of the "quiet floor", if only for my benefit. I think Violet could and would stay up all night jamming. He also warned me that it was pretty wild, and we'd better get used to walking down a hallway and have someone jump out and start playing an instrument at us without warning. I have a feeling I'm really going to feel totally out of my league and much like the complete fiddle novice I am.
.
In any case, I think this is going to be quite the experience. I'm don't exactly know what to expect, but I am definitely taking my camera.

Raised Beds 101

2010-01-21T08:28:00.000-06:00

I've yakked incessantly in the past couple of years about home gardening and my evolving attitude toward food-growing and local consumption, and have been asked more than a few times about my gardening methods. So, I decided to post more on the subject for anyone who'd like to start raised-bed gardening but is not sure where or how to start. And what better time - we're enjoying spring-like temps here in January, and spring fever is really starting to tickle my toes. Get ready for a real blab-fest.

My official disclaimer: I'm not by any means an expert, nor do I want to appear know-it-all or egotistical...I'm simply attempting to answer quite a few questions and also trying to further something I feel strongly about - that everyone who's interested can and should have a backyard garden...you don't HAVE to be an expert. And like most activities in this world, there are endless, sometimes extremely strong opinions considering proper methods and materials, especially when it comes to gardening. In other words - if you have a better way or better idea, since I'm still learning myself I'd be very interested and receptive to new or differing opinions.

When I was first thinking about building my raised-bed garden utopia, I made the mistake of immediately diving head first into a LOT of research from all kinds of sources - books, the Internet, magazines, the library, and word of mouth. I heard and read that raised bed gardening was "so easy", but couldn't figure out why all the information was making it seem so incredibly complicated. The biggest problem is the sheer volume of easily-accessible information and opinions out there that makes it difficult to sift through and process it all. It's easy to get overwhelmed and start questioning whether it's worth the effort, and if it just might not be better to stick to the conventional gardening that you know...or just buy produce from someone else or the store.

After much aggravation, I took a step back and put into perspective what I was trying to do. Raised-bed gardening is really nothing more than building or buying a box, throwing in some dirt, and planting seeds or plants. It really can be that simple. I calmed down and started out with an Internet search on the materials and dimensions for raised-bed gardening, as well as consulting my Mother Earth News magazines.

(Side note - I've since cancelled my subscription to Mother Earth News. While it's a good magazine with lots of excellent information, I found it harder and harder to put up with the increasingly extreme eco-centric attitude. After one too many condescending and preachy articles on how we're horrible beings who are all going to cause everyone to die a slow painful death and implode the planet if we don't immediately start using "energy-efficient" light bulbs, and how we should all live in yurts made from hay bales, live on a government-mandated $4000/year salary and never eat meat, I'd had enough. While I agree we can do better in many areas to be more responsible with our resources, I do think it can be taken WAAAY overboard and I sure don't want it shoved down my throat.)

The first thing I had to figure out was what size to make my beds. I found out that the most common dimensions for a raised garden bed are 4' x 8'. It needs to be narrow enough to be able to sit down on the side and reach across to weed or gather produce. As far as the length - deciding that will depend on available space, personal preference, and the materials used. There are differing opinions on depth, but the general consensus seems to be least 12" deep, though I added a couple of quickly-built beds last year that were only 8", and they seemed to do just fine.

Materials can be pretty much anything you can build a box out of...it depends heavily on how much money a person wants to spend and what may be readily available. I found widely varying opinions on this and got pretty frustrated trying to figure out what to build my beds out of without breaking the bank. One of my mom's friends stacked concrete blocks, and they are apparently very functional. Another benefit of concrete blocks I can see would be that the beds would be less permanent than other structures. The drawback for me would be that I happen to think concrete blocks are a bit on the ugly side. But, if I had access to a bunch of free ones, I could sacrifice some aesthetics for practicality.

My folks used 2x12 treated boards, and have had very good luck. This is also pretty economical, and the current method I'm considering for my new beds at our new place, though the practice of using treated boards is a bit controversial in the eco-friendly world. Some people prefer to use un-treated lumber and treat them with boiled linseed oil. From what I've heard this does offer some protection from the elements, but isn't a really long-term solution, and a person can spend a small fortune on linseed oil if there are many boards to treat.

Railroad ties are another option many people use, though I've read that the creosote is a problem and can be harmful to soil and veggies. I avoided RR ties for that reason.

Commercially made beds are available, though they are very expensive. However, most are made out of plastic and are pretty darn durable, and look very nice to boot. If time is short and a person doesn't mind spending the money, that's a route to consider.

Other materials I've seen used include landscape timbers, landscaping blocks, stacked rocks - even logs put together log-cabin style. My point is - the possibilities are only limited by what works and imagination.

For my first beds here I got lucky when it came to building materials. While I was agonizing over the decision on what to make my beds out of, Marden was offered a whole truckload of free rough-cut cedar boards. Cedar is great because it's naturally rot-resistant. However, they turned out to be extremely difficult to build with because I had loads of boards with varying widths, thicknesses, and lengths - even in a single board. In addition, the wood split and cracked horribly, and I had to pre-drill every hole and use outdoor-quality screws. And, while I THOUGHT I was in a level area, I wasn't. To get the beds fairly level meant digging down into the ground and burying one side several inches, or just building one side higher.

As for looks...they turned out a little more redneck than I envisioned, but they work.

...

When you're in the middle of all this hard labor, an aspiring gardener starts to wonder if the benefits are going to outweigh the effort. I say a big, fat YES. Benefits of raised beds over regular ground-level gardening are almost endless, but I'll name a few.

Dirt Management: It's much easier to manage your dirt by adding composted material, fertilizers, sand, etc, and have them stay put even in a flooding rain deluge. After a real toad-strangler it's terribly disheartening to see all your nice dirt end up at the neighbor's, or down the hill, which happens in conventional gardening more than you'd think.

Good Drainage: After one of those all-night gully-washers the carefully-tended plants aren't sitting in puddles, since drainage is so much improved from ground-level gardening.

No Rocks! If you live here in the Ozarks, like some other areas of the country, you're going to engage constantly in the Battle of the Rocks. No matter how many you pick up out of the ground, there are fifty for every rock removed. Unless you use rock-picking as a punishment for your children (as mine did...often...), not having rocks to pick out saves literally days and days of irritation.

Better yields. I had to see this to believe it, but it's definitely true. Plants are not only more productive when grown in managed raised garden beds, but grow bigger and fuller.

They look pretty. This may be a moot point for many ultra-practical folks, but I like a nice-looking, neat and tidy garden. Even my redneck beds have a nice, ordered look to them, even in the summer months when gardens tend to get out of hand.

Best of all...Less work and more convenience - Building raised beds and filling them with dirt is a lot of work at first, but once the garden is established the work drops off dramatically. Say goodbye to back-aching crawling around on the ground and wallering in the dirt. No more "drive-by mouth lickings" from the dog while you are bent over at ground level weeding or planting. Weeds are more easily managed, and can be dealt with by simply sitting on the side of the garden bed.

While I feel I started my garden out pretty simple, every year I add something to my gardening goals to research and try. This year or the next I hope to improve my composting, devise a gravity-fed soaker system from a rain barrel, start a worm farm (yes, a worm farm), and build a hot box for cold-season crops out of an old sliding glass door I saved. I also want to start doing some research on beneficial veggie relationships - instead of planting a single veggie in one box, you can plant different certain plants together that mutually benefit each other. Finally, somewhere down the road I'd like a full-blown greenhouse, which will complete my green-thumb nerddom.

So in a very large nutshell, gardening decisions are going to rely heavily on personal preference, what's available, and where you live. Just don't stress out and remember, there are no Gardening Police going to come smack you upside the head with a fine if you decide to deviate from the "norm" or "gardening gospel." Fancy or simple, many or few beds - it really is your choice. And if I can do it...ANYBODY can.

Cause for Cautious Optimism

2010-01-20T07:39:00.003-06:00

Unless you reside in a cave, you know that as of last night for the first time since 1972 a Republican, Scott Brown, has been elected to a senate seat in uber-liberal Massachusetts...not just any senate seat...the seat formerly held by Ted Kennedy. I'm not sure everyone gets how monumental this event is, and how loudly it screams at our other politicians. People are just plain sick of being ignored by their elected officials...which has evolved from being ignored by some to being treated with utter disdain by others.

While I've always disagreed wholeheartedly with the Obama administration's policies from the get-go, he did make some pretty smart promises. He promised transparency, open debate, to reach across the aisle to shrink the divide between parties, and most importantly - to listen to the people. Even though I disagree with his party's policies, I was hopeful that he would do what he promised. Instead we've seen the practice of bullying and childish ridiculing of anyone who doesn't float along with extreme leftist policies, and a continuation of everything he promised to stop.

We've plunged deeper into debt than we've ever been, seen constant closed-door meetings with special interest groups, continued corruption, and been told we're getting health care reform whether we want it or not because we're not smart enough to decide for ourselves, as if we lived in western Europe. Everything proposed so far has been bigger government that dictates to us, more control, loss of personal rights, and a huge increase in taxes and entitlement programs. The increasing downward spiral reminds me of a massive toilet bowl that started flushing years ago.

While I'm no longer a Republican, I do believe that this new senator gets it. I'm waiting for others to get it, Democrats as well as Republicans, and live in a country where WE THE PEOPLE are listened to by our elected representatives as designed by the founders. People are waking up - no longer content to let the government do what it does, and no longer content to say, "Nothing I can do about it."

I remain cautiously optimistic.

I'm Dreaming of a Green Garden...

2010-01-17T08:20:00.006-06:00

Dang, it's still January. January has always been my least favorite month. The excitement of the holidays are over, the Chiefs are usually not in the playoffs, and spring is still so distant and the world so dreary it seems impossible that things will ever be green again. I don't usually mind winter, but this year I'm dreaming of spring earlier than ever. I'm chomping at the bit to get settled in our new place in Little Rock, and paranoid I'll be too busy during the most important gardening time to get anything done. Every time I open the freezer I smile at the heirloom seeds sleeping in there, thinking of their potential...but now worry that we'll be in the middle of transition when they need to be in the ground, doing their thing.

Right now is when I should be building raised beds, and the fact that I can't just yet is making me extremely antsy. I'm totally addicted to raised-bed gardening, and the thought of going back to conventional gardening isn't appealing at all. My only other alternative, if I'm not able to get beds built in time and filled with decent dirt, is to improvise with what's available. Container gardening can be productive. I've also considered planting veggies in the existing flower beds. Likely if I'm going to have a garden this year, I'll be resorting to all three - maybe build a couple of beds, plant in containers, and utilize the flower beds.

Even after moving to the city, I still plan on continuing our quest to eat/preserve more of what we grow ourselves, as well as trying to eat more locally grown items. And actually, this might even be easier with better access to larger farmer's markets as well as small grocery stores that carry locally grown items. My chicken flock was decimated by a marauding raccoon this fall, so I'll be starting all over on that front, too.

The bottom line is that I won't have my dream garden this year. Even though I'm basically starting from scratch again, I can look at the bright side - my experiences in the last couple of years here have taught me what works and what doesn't, and that the process is where the enjoyment is...and until spring, I'll keep dreaming of something that looks like this:

2010-01-03T08:33:00.004-06:00

Happy New Year! Yeah I know...that was a week ago. We've now jumped fully into 2010...here's hoping this year is a drastic improvement over the one we just muddled through. I haven't made any New Year's Resolutions because like most people I never stick to them...but I will try to blog more than I have lately.

This year I'm hoping get us, our pets, and possessions quickly moved to Little Rock, our house successfully sold, and put an end to the back troubles I've been fighting. Not such a tall order, I should think, though I'm not sure yet how it's all going to pan out. We seem to do everything the most difficult way possible, but I'm cautiously optimistic about this year.

And to those of you who don't know, we have found a destination for us and our stuff in Little Rock. We decided to take advantage of an opportunity to live on the base. And here it is:

Yup...it's a double wide, which is all that on-base housing offers. Still, we feel strongly that the benefits and security of living on post will outweigh any negatives. The current tenants are supposed to get the moss off the siding. They make some trailers pretty nice these days, but I can't seem to get the Sammy Kershaw song "Queen of my Double-Wide Trailer" out of my head. I hate to say good-bye to the Mountain Home area, but we must follow the job security. And, there are much worse places we could live. Just ask my brother and sister-in-law.

That's pretty much all I've got today...maybe if we get out of the deep freeze I'll be more inspired.

Here's to new adventures at a new Homestead in 2010!

"This is the queen of my double-wide trailer with the polyester curtains and the redwood deck..."

Griswold Christmas

2009-12-10T14:39:00.007-06:00

Lately I've been lacking motivation, as if you hadn't noticed by my blogging hiatus. That is, if I still have blog readers at this point...right now it's entirely possible that I'm only blogging to myself. If so, not only am I unmotivated, but I'm now touched in the head. Oh well.

I did recently discover why I can't seem to get into the Christmas spirit. Someone in Conway is totally hogging it all. The proof is in the yard, which we tracked from several blocks away.

Holy friggin' electric bill...

Bethany: "Is your house on fire Clark?"

Clark: "No Aunt Bethany, those are the Christmas lights."

Buffalo Float

2009-10-22T08:08:00.013-05:00

It stopped raining and warmed up a couple days this week, long enough for a beautiful day of floating the Buffalo river with some friends. This was the first time in years I've been in a canoe, since I much prefer my kayak. A canoe is so much work and so much more unstable and less manuverable than a kayak, but this time circumstances made dealing with a canoe easier. Luckily Daryl and I were able to remember how to canoe enough so we didn't dump and made it appear as if we knew what we were doing.

With all the rain this year, we had plenty of water and for once didn't drag over the shoals, and we shared the river with only a small handful of other floaters and fishermen. Without a doubt, this was one of the best days I've spent on one of my favorite rivers.

Ready for launch...

Daryl at the stern of our canoe, with his Michael Jackson glove.

Me.

A dab of fall color.

Lunchtime!

Alan, Daisy, and Yvonne. Alan plays a heck of a mandolin, Yvonne the bass and autoharp. Daisy just listens.

Raccoon tracks.

Picturesque.

Chewing Gum Fail

2009-10-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

I consider myself quite the chewing gum connoisseur, and I while I'm not steadfastly loyal to one brand, I do particularly enjoy Orbit gums. You may have noticed the same trend as I have of late of outlandish and wacky sounding gum flavors appearing on store shelves. At first I was tempted by these new taste sensations, but after Orbit Sangria made my stomach flop around like a dying guppy I decided to stick with the old standby of some kind of mint or cinnamon.

However, hubby had yet to learn this lesson. At a recent gas station stop, he picked up Orbit Maui Melon Mint. I thought I'd give it a try, since it did have the word "mint" on the package.

We each popped a piece in our mouths and chewed. Marden summed up the taste in one astute statement, "Tastes like I'm eating Noxema!"

That's EXACTLY what it tasted like. And no, we don't go around tasting facial cleansers. But we've all had the experience of washing your face, and a little bit gets on your lip, and your first reaction is to go, "Pwaaahaaahwaaaaaaaaaaa!" That's Maui Melon Mint. I wonder if it also prevents blemishes?

And not only does it taste like facial cleanser, but it's the gum that keeps on giving. The next morning when I opened the door, I was immediately brutally assaulted by a rotten-fruit stench. On my mission to find the ginormous over-the-hill mangotangerinepineapple that must surely be stuck somewhere, I found the gum...the rotten stench emanating from within it's seemingly harmless package.

Yup. I don't care if it means I'm boring or an old fogey. I'm sticking with plain 'ol doesn't-stink-up-your-car-or-make-you-puke mint or cinnamon.

Honor Roll Eagle Scout Suspended For Pocket Knife In Car

2009-10-14T08:14:00.001-05:00

And the idiocy continues...

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,565520,00.html

Good Freaking Grief

2009-10-13T08:32:00.002-05:00

Again, I must ask the question...when exactly did we start collectively losing our minds? This morning during my morning cup of coffee I nearly dropped my cup when I heard the story that hopefully you've heard by now. Six-year-old Zachary Christie, who was so excited about joining the Cub Scouts, took his combo knife/fork/spoon to school to use at lunchtime. As a result, he was expelled for bringing a "weapon" to school, and now must attend reform school. Here's the story you can read for yourself:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/12/education/12discipline.html

And, here's a link if you think this is just as much ridiculous idocy as I do:

http://helpzachary.com

You know, I'm not THAT old. I can't believe things have changed SO much just since the 90's. I vividly remember our school parking lot full of farm trucks, complete with gun racks - and guns IN the racks. I remember once in history class, the teacher had recieved a box containing new books, and she asked who had a pocket knife she could borrow. Nearly everyone in the room offered her one. How have we come to this point?

How far will we go?

Congrats Caveman Cuisine!

2009-10-05T18:49:00.006-05:00

A few years ago, my cousin Chad decided to take up bbq-ing. Not just your average Joe backyard grill bbq - this is some serious no-holds-barred-bbq-sauce-in-your-face competition bbq-ing. Soon, Caveman Cuisine was born (cue lights and angels).

I'd never known Chad to be a real Maestro in the kitchen, so his bbq dream came as a bit of a surprise to me. Surprise which turned to drooling awe after the first bbq sauce smeared taste. And, over the past few years, his bbq has only gotten better, with tender brisket, beyond tasty chicken, perfect pulled pork, and my favorite - ribs that you don't even have to chew - they just magically float from the plate to your mouth to your very happy tummy. As Grandpa would say, Chad's bbq is "larrupin'".

This past weekend Chad and crew, with smokers on their log cabin kitchen trailer in tow, headed up to Kansas City to the American Royal BBQ Competition Invitational, one of the most prestigious bbq competitions in the world, to stack their meat up against 123 other teams. Chad walked away victorious, with...drumroll... Reserve Grand Champion. They took 1st in pork, with a perfect score of 180, and 13th in brisket. For Sunday's open competition, out of 473 teams, Caveman Cuisine took a very brag-worthy 54th.

I'd like to say my slammin' logo design had a hand in the win, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it was actually the food. Congratulations Chad, Nicki, Brett, Cole, Jodie, and BJ!

By the way, I'm always available for a taste test...

Yay China!

2009-10-02T08:35:00.003-05:00

This week marked the 60th anniversary of the rule of Communism in China, which was celebrated by lighting up the Empire State Building in red and yellow. This caused numerous human rights organizations - such as Human Rights Watch, who has offices in the building (as well irking many Americans who are still paying attention), to exclaim, "say WHAT?!?" due to this political party's tendency to um...deny people basic human rights. But, even though communism is the antithesis to the American ideal, a classic American icon is lit up in China's colors to celebrate. Of course, they do own us now. Hooray! So put on your ultra-cool Che shirt, read up on Marx, and give a salute. It's good practice.

Silver Dollar City

2009-09-27T19:15:00.018-05:00

This past weekend the hubby and I met my folks for a day at a local theme park, Silver Doller City. If you haven't heard of it, you're not from here. I'm told it's known worldwide, which may be true, but I just can't imagine anyone travelling any distance for the specific purpose of visiting the park. Don't get me wrong - it's nice - maybe it's just been that growing up in the vicinity of Branson takes away some of the thrill. SDC really plays up the down-home Ozarks image of music, shows, and crafts. Some aspects are pretty neat, and some sit on the border of lame and hokey. It's pretty much what you'd expect from Branson, catering mostly to tourists who want to see down-home "authentic" Ozark hillbilles.

Still, it's not a bad way to spend a beautiful late-September day. And, we had the added bonus of seeing Violet, my illustrious fiddle teacher, who has had her fiddles and herself displayed in a booth every year during the Craftsman's Festival in September and October for many years now. I even played a few songs with her, accompanied by her grandson on the guitar, and some other guy I didn't know also on the guitar. My ears only burned mildly hot with embarassment, and I actually felt confident in my meager playing abilities while spectators watched and clapped.

We soon left Violet to deal with her many admirers, in order to meander around the park, browse the crafts, and get in some thrill rides. Silver Dollar City isn't by any means well known for ultra-trilling rides, and in the realm of today's amusement parks, SDC's rides would be considered pretty tame. Still, now with real roller coasters and a giant barn swing ride, it's made great improvements. And it helps that neither hubby or I have extensive amusement park experience, as much as we'd like to. Neither of our ride resumes reach beyond regional parks, and unfortunaly we've never been on any of the big

famous rides featured on television.

My main goal of the day was to try out Powder Keg, which was new to me. There's a good reason this coaster is called "Powder Keg." Unlike most coasters which slowly pull off the embarking platform and inch up the first hill, keeping riders in anticipation of the first drop, Powder Keg pulls forward and stops on a piece of track which moves sideways and upwards to pull forward onto the main track. THEN, after a few tense seconds, the coaster cars are instantly blasted forward from zero to ninety (well, actually 0-53 mph), up the first hill to fall down a screaming drop, which you're totally unprepared for because you're still thinking about the unceremoniously quick start.

Unfortunately, hubby and I were not aware of this fact.

From our vantage point waiting in line we couldn't witness it and be warned, either. Instead we happily boarded, and I even remarked to Marden, "This must be a pretty pud coaster...it only has lap bars." He agreed. Our cars pulled out onto the movable track, putting us on the main track, where we sat. I presumed we were waiting for the last set of cars to clear a certain point before we started lumbering up the hill. Not that I gave it much thought...we were busy chatting and waving at Mom and Dad who were on the observation platform. Mr. and Mrs. Oblivious. I was in mid-sentence when we were unceremoniously jerked forward, leaving my innards in place while the rest of my body went screaming down the track. At least that's what it felt like.

I think my exact words were, "I don't think Mom has the camera turned onNNNAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" I can't type Marden's exact words becuase this is a family-friendly blog.

We rode Powderkeg three times, once waiting extra long to get seated in the front car.

I think we hit all the rides, which doesn't take long at SDC. We avoided the water rides, but made sure to hit "Fire in the Hole", which hasn't changed a bit since I was in early elementary school, when the ride was shortened. I barely remember the longer ride, but found more details on the old ride thanks to Fire in the Hole's very own Wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_In_The_Hole_(Silver_Dollar_City)

It's pretty weak in terms of a "thrill ride"...but very nostalgic.

All in all, it was a great day, and we left happily exhausted. I hope I'm never "too old" for theme parks and funnel cakes.

More Vacation Pics

2009-09-23T09:26:00.014-05:00

Southwest Revisited

2009-09-20T08:31:00.021-05:00

Today I think I'm finally recovered...the last day or so I've been completely worn to a frazzle from spending a week on the road and in New Mexico.

A few weeks ago my friend Judith called to tell me of an amazing opportunity - she and her husband were planning a trip to meet some friends in Taos, New Mexico, but at the last minute he couldn't go, and would I be interested?

Does a bear use Charmin after it poos in the woods? I guess we all know the answer to that, and now you know the answer I gave Judith. If our trip was going to be anything like our Southwest adventure last year when we explored and camped the four-corners region, I was all in.

So, last Friday we loaded up with way too much stuff and eagerly pointed the Prius west. Judith is an easygoing travelling partner and we have a lot in common, including our love for seeing what's on the other side of the hill, a tendency to avoid Interstate travel, and a desire to simply fly-by-the-seat of our pants. We like the back roads, mostly because Interstates are boring, and you miss a bunch of interesting stuff. If we'd stuck to the Interstate and stayed on a rigid schedule like a lot of travellers, we would've missed stuff like getting disoriented in Tulsa, touring the "No Man's Land Museum" in the Oklahoma panhandle, stopping to get a bunch of green Hatch chilies from a roadside stand (making the car smell very chili-peppery), and nearly upending the car to see Historical Markers.

The theme for this trip was "I'm game if you are."

The first half of the journey was spent in an absolutely awesome rented house in Taos with some folks from Texas, who go frequently to the area to enjoy the artsy, hippie-esque culture and to paint landscapes. Well, the women do...the guys mostly seem to piddle around with their metal detectors or frequent the local casino. I took my drawing stuff, but I couldn't seem to get the time or inkling to sit long enough to draw - too much to see and do. While the others painted our first full day there, Judith and I travelled to the Three Rivers wilderness area to do some ambitious day hiking. I think it's safe to say that as much as we both love to hike, we got our fill on this day.

A few of the house guests played instruments, and against my better judgement I brought my fiddle on the off chance they wanted to taint their great music with the screechings of a scratchy, inexperienced fiddle. But, they insisted, and it was actually a lot of fun. Apparently it didn't sound too terrible, because we played for three nights and nobody's ears bled.

Second day in Taos we accompanied the group to Arroyo Hondo - for the ladies to paint, and for us to mess around hiking and searching for petroglyphs, as well as enjoying the hot springs. "Enjoy" may be a bit much, since on this day it pretty much felt hotter than blue blazes, and after a short hike to the site a bathwater temperature spring isn't high on the list to sit in. Still, we sat...it wasn't bad if a person stood frequently to cool off. Later we went to Arroyo Seco to eat at a tiny little joint, then back to the house to play more music.

The third day we dragged our tired butts out of bed and decided to spend the day mostly shopping and doing the less strenuous toursity things normal people do in Taos, so we visited the Kit Carson museum and the Taos Pueblo.

Day four we hit the road again and drove the scenic loop around Taos. Unfortunately it was raining so we couldn't do much, but I did encounter a lady who told me all about the UFOs which hover over the canyon. This nice lady went from her pleasant can-I-help-you visitor center face to wild-eyed alien abductee in .02 seconds, and with little prodding she went into detail. That experience alone was worth driving the loop. After nutty UFO lady we had a decision to make - head home, or do more stuff. After a very short discussion, we headed south for White Sands.

White Sands, like pretty much everything else, was awesome. We visited on a very rare rainy day, and the whiteness of the dunes I suspect was even more brilliant against dark rainy mountains, and it was surreal walking around in such snowy whiteness while not being cold.

Maybe it was the visitor center UFO lady that prompted us, but we decided we couldn't leave New Mexico without visiting Roswell. It was, actually, on our way. We pulled up to the International UFO Museum and Research Center unfortunately after they'd closed, and after some deliberation we decided we had to see that museum, even if it meant home would have to wait another day.

The museum was all we'd hoped for and more. I was especially gratified when I was placing the "where-are-you-from-pins" on the map and was greeted by one of the workers who asked how many were in my party visiting the museum. I said, "two", and he stated, "ahh...two humans" before ambling off. The museum was surprisingly professional despite the greeting and considering the subject matter, which covered in depth with newspaper articles and sworn affidavits about everything from the Roswell UFO crash to sightings/incidents around the world, weird inexplicable body implants and what little is actually known about Area 51. While I will remain an interested skeptic until I see a bonafide UFO and/or alien with my own eyeballs, I concur that the "Roswell Incident" is very very fishy.

It's a dreary pre-fall day back here in Arkansas, but thanks to some of the stuff I brought back the house smells western - like sage and roasted chilies. New Mexico is wonderful to visit, but I'm not sure I'd ever get used to living out there. There's a measure of comfort in big green trees and grass. The mountains are nice, but I don't think I could see myself permanently in the arid climate and wide-open spaces void of large trees, full of sage brush and desolate emptiness. I guess it's just all in what you're used to. Still, I'll be ready to go back.

More pics to come!

Warning - Political Stuff

2009-09-12T08:00:00.003-05:00

Oh no! She's at it again...airing her political opinions. Give me a second to get up on my soapbox.

There are so many things to write about these days...so many things making me want to stick forks in my eyeballs out of frustration. I feel the need to explain myself...why does this stuff matter to me so much? Because I, like many Americans these days, feel more and more helpless, without a voice. We feel a strong, very visceral, feeling that our Republic is being changed right under our noses, our personal freedoms just about to be trampled, and most of us are too ignorant to see what is happening.

My desires are simple. No matter what political party, I simply want politicians to follow the Constitution, remember we are a Republic, and stay true to the expressed desires of the American people....and that hasn't been happening. For a WHILE. Our current administration doesn't get all the blame. In the past I've played into partisan politics, but I've seen the error of my ways, and I've officially resigned from the Republican party, for good unless they return to the principles I thought they stood for, and please - quit with the corruption.

All of a sudden, things seem backward. Marxism isn't viewed as being so bad. Socialism...hey, it works some places...we should try it here! We have politicians calling regular Americans standing up for a cause they believe in ugly names, not answering direct questions, while a congresswoman stands up and actually says that Fidel Castro is a great leader, and he's done "so much" for the Cuban people. Um...did you ask all the Cubans who are leaving all that greatness to float over to the U.S. in a raft? Michael Moore has a new movie vilifying capitalism - the very system that made him rich. When exactly did we all start losing our minds? We had an avowed Communist activist in the White House as "Green Jobs Czar", or, a special advisor to the President if you prefer. When did this become ok? Van Jones did resign of course, but all the media could talk about was how he called Republicans "a**holes", and how he's a "9/12 Truther." Um...that shouldn't have been the issues causing resignation...I myself have referred to Republicans in similar terms lately, and I also have questions about 9/11, though maybe not as far-reaching as the Truthers. How about...um...HE'S AN AVOWED COMMUNIST. Not to mention all the unsavory audio/video about changing our system, spreading the wealth, etc. Marx would've been proud. How did this guy make it into the White House???

Then, healthcare. The Pres says the debate is over, and we need to act. Huh? Do the millions of Americans who put the brakes on the bill not get a voice anymore? It's not like the Repubs and Blue Dogs are standing in the way just because they want to throw in a monkey wrench...there are a few actually LISTENING to their constituents. As it should be...as our system was designed. Unfortunately, so many in office now are of the same opinion as Bill Mahr...that we're too stupid to see what's in our best interest, and just ram it through already. Never mind the will of the people. Never mind that the politicians work for US, not the other way around. Never mind massive debt. Never mind that we have a healthcare system that CAN work if we tried some tweaks (Tort reform, interstate competition, tax breaks, vouchers, etc) - not the sweeping, massive changes being suggested....and you can't convince me these changes won't lead to more unsustainable debt (just ask the non-partisan CBO - Congressional Budget Office), and eventually socialized medicine. The words "I'm in favor of a single-payer system" came out of President Obama's mouth just a couple years ago, and so far he hasn't stated he has changed his mind. Republicans have offered no less than 35 reform bills just this year to the President, Nancy Pelosi, and Harry Reid, none of which have even gotten a hearing, and yet the President continues to say his opponents have given no alternatives to his proposed sweeping changes.

Then of course there's the cost - $900 billion. That's $900,000,000,000 proposed. Never have cost estimates on heath care been accurate - they are always at least doubled. Even Bush's Medicare Part D has blown away all cost estimates. Again, ask the CBO.

And the facts about who is for these changes keeps getting SOOO skewed, it's hard to know what's truth. CNN ran a poll the day after President Obama's healthcare speech, showing that 75% of people thought it favorable. At the bottom was fine print stating that of those polled, 45% were Dems, 17% Repubs. Think you can get a fair poll that way? No, but you can sure fool folks not reading the fine print.

Government keeps getting bigger and bigger, with more of a hold on the people. For any of you who are fans of big government - ever thought about how BAD big government might be when the party you oppose has the power?

We have a great country, a beacon of freedom for the world. It's my personal opinion that we really need to pay attention, consider what's being proposed, and stand up when we don't feel it's right. Republican, Democrat, or Independent...we all have so much in common we CAN agree on. But hey, I'm just a "nutjob", a "Tim McVeigh wannabe" who is "running around in a white sheet." Those ugly words were all heard on "unbiased" network news, by the way.

Today a bunch of regular Americans are marching on Washington to make their voices heard. Who knows if they will be. A significant chunk of our population is increasingly feeling alienated, ignored, and marginalized. Likely they will be ridiculed and mocked by the media, and possibly politicians also. They'll be called ugly and unfair names. They'll be the butt of jokes for late-night comedians. Regardless, I wish I could be with them...just a crazy nutjob looking for accountability from her elected representatives and government.

By the way, rebuttals are welcome. Someone prove me wrong. All I ask is for no name-calling - only the facts please.

Fiddle Update

2009-09-10T15:28:00.005-05:00

My goal is to have a completed fiddle by Christmas, and I'll go out on a limb and say that I *think* it's actually doable. I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Or rather, hearing the music. Here's an update on my recent progress:

Most of "dishing out", as Violet calls it, of fiddle backs and tops are done with a curved knife. But the knife leaves deep grooves, so the finish work is done with a scraper - a piece of glass or sharpened metal, and sandpaper. Violet says she and her Dad used to do most of their scraping with broken fruit jars. Here's me in the process of scraping the inside of my top with a piece of windowpane hubby's granddad and I had a lot of fun breaking.

The grain of the sassafras wood I'm using makes it a little tougher to get smooth. Joe, a guy who's also making a fiddle, is using soft maple. He smugly sits across from me and proceeds to cut it like hot butter. However, I seem to gravitate toward challenges. (I mean, look at my choice in husbands. Haha...just kidding Marden.) I've learned a lot by watching Joe, though. #1) Always listen to Violet, because if you don't you end up putting a hole in your fiddle back, cutting the wrong end off your finger board, nearly putting a hole through the fiddle top, making your sound holes too big, and a myriad of other issues encountered by not listening. #2), Always measure multiple times, and have Violet check your work BEFORE you glue. #3) is to pretty much do the opposite of what Joe is doing. While he's a super-nice guy, he is the proverbial bull in the china closet. He'll get his fiddle done, though...and we'll both learn a lot in the process.

After what felt like years of scraping and sanding (and tons of sawdust boogers), I was FINALLY able to cut the sound holes. It took me a good 30 minutes to actually draw them on, then a full hour to screw up the nerve to actually make a cut. Violet does her sound holes with a drill press, but I wisely chickened out and chose to start mine with a tiny hand drill, then (remembering Joe) slowly expand the holes with a well-worn but very sharp pocket knife.

That's it for now! Stay tuned for further updates.

All Hail Octavia!!!

2009-08-27T08:50:00.003-05:00

I got such acclaim for posting the last video, I decided to post another. It's been a while since I've visited "The Onion", but now I remember why it used to be one of my favorite sites...it counteracts the ridiculousness of our regular news networks. Right now I kind of need a few laughs.

All hail Octavia!!!

Nascar

2009-08-26T13:58:00.004-05:00

Interesting video showing a pretty cool eye-opening inside look at the great sport of NASCAR racing, enjoyed not only by millions, but also myself and many friends and family.

Ash vs. Possum, Round II

2009-08-15T08:28:00.009-05:00

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you know I have a flock of laying hens. I've learned a lot from keeping chickens, including the facts that 1) I now consider store-bought eggs to be no more than tasteless goo, 2) keeping chickens is addictive and hopefully wherever I go in life a few chickens will follow, and 3) that sometimes chickens just keel over and die for no apparent reason, so it's best not to become emotionally attached. Also, 4) chickens are incredibly dumb so that helps with the emotionally attached part.

Lately I've been having chicken troubles. In the past couple of months, I've lost 3 - two just seemed to have laid down and given up the good fight, and one snatched in the dark of night by some mysterious predator. One night a couple of weeks ago while checking the coop I came face-to-face with one of these predators - a possum. (I guess the correct name is "Opossum", but we're in the Ozarks and I've never in my life heard them called anything but a possum except on TV.) This particular possum was pretty laid back as possums tend to be, despite the fact that I was pretty angry that he was in my coop. I found a stick and whacked and poked him until he decided maybe it would behoove him to leave, and he slunk out of the coop and under the so-called "predator proof" electric fence. I called Lucy, who back in her younger years was a possum-killing fool, to take care of the problem. After giving the possum's butt a good sniff, Lucy ambled over to see what I wanted. Some guard dog. The possum scooted off to the woods.

After securing the chickens for the night in the coop, the next day I re-checked the fence, mowed the chicken yard, and was confident things were secure. And they were, until a few nights ago.

I had gotten in late that evening and rushed around doing my evening chores, and I was a bit distracted by keeping one eye on the sky for the meteor shower predicted for that night. I shut the chickens in the coop and went indoors to watch a movie until the shower was supposed to be brightest. At midnight I meandered outside to watch the sky, but my attention was drawn to the chicken coop where I heard frantic scratchings coming from the "upstairs" enclosed area. I ran to the coop with my flashlight, counted the chickens piled up in the "downstairs", and when all were accounted for opened the egg-access door - to meet the same possum. At least it looked the same. I had inadvertently shut him in the coop WITH the chickens. Doh! Lucky for me (and the chickens) he was too frantic trying to get out to have a chicken snack, but he had made short work of the eggs I hadn't gathered.

Once again, I poked and whacked him with a stick. This time instead of leaving the coop he jammed himself up in the far corner. I left the coop to see if he'd come out. He didn't. At this point I was SO tired, and pretty darn irritated at the possum. I figured I had to shoot him because this was a repeating problem, but I didn't want to shoot him in the coop and make a mess. I had to get him out of the coop. What I needed was a lasso. I scoured the barn and came up with a 50' piece of rope, tied my slipknot, and went to work trying to lasso the possum. After 15 minutes and with the help of my trusty stick, I got the loop over his head and dragged a VERY irate possum out, taking full advantage of the 50' of rope. After I got him out of the chicken yard and over the "predator-proof" fence I wasn't sure what to do. The shotgun was in the house, and I was standing in the yard with a possum on a rope in the middle of the night. For the sake of my chickens, I couldn't just let him go. I did what any logical person would do - tied him to the big yard light pole while I retrieved the gun.

*I think hubby would appreciate me noting that he was NOT home at the time of these shennanigans.

By the time I returned with the loaded 12 gauge, the possum was sitting calmly at the end of his rope. I reminded myself of my hen's safety and walked up to the possum and aimed right between his eyes. His beady little eyes. Looking right at me. Crap. He was only a young possum doing what possums do...and to think of all the baby possums I've raised. Crap.

I couldn't do it. I can dispatch a deer with no problem, help hubby dress it, and grind the meat myself. I can shoot a turkey in the face and do a victory dance, then fry up his breast with a side of green beans feeling no remorse. I can even process my own meat chickens. But I can't dispose of an egg-sucking, probable chicken-killing possum.

Now what? I couldn't let him go. Well, I couldn't let him go HERE. I untied the rope and led the possum to the truck. And, you guessed it, got him up in the bed and tied the other end to a support post. Good thing he was a possum...a raccoon would've eaten my face back at the coop with the stick-poking. This possum by now was either on Valium, stunned into complete shock, or resigned to his fate. Indeed, he seemed to be undecided as to whether now was an appropriate time for the "playing possum" act. I hopped into the truck and tried to think of where to drop him. I didn't want to plague some other hapless chicken-owner with my problem possum, so I decided to go out to the Wildlife Management Area about 5 miles away.

Then it occurred to me...what if I got pulled over? Here I was, 1:30 a.m., in my pajamas, no license, in an old Ford truck with a possum tied to a support post in the bed. Just another night in Arkansas. That's probably the best explanation I could give to a cop at that point.

I successfully reached the WMA, worked the rope off with my stick, and the possum scooted off into the woods to take his chances around less-crazy beings. I returned home at 2 a.m. and fell into bed.

If that possum turns up again, I AM shooting him. I think. By the way, my husband thinks I'm certifiable. I'm not sure he's wrong.

Healthcare Reform Bill Link

2009-08-14T08:22:00.003-05:00

I've had several people ask me if I knew where to find the actual Healthcare Bill currently being proposed so they can read it, so it's posted at the end of this blog.

And if you know me, you know I just can't keep my mouth shut or my keyboard quiet. Lately I've been absolutely APPALLED by the assault on our first amendment rights by the media and the current administration. It's constantly being suggested that anyone opposing this bill are "nutjobs" and "unruly mobs" and that they just need to shut up and let this thing pass. Um...excuse me, but don't the politicians work for US? Since when can we not question them??? And I'm sorry, but according to current polls, over 50% of Americans think this is a bad idea.

Rasmussen poll page: http://www.rasmussenreports.com/public_content/politics/obama_administration/daily_presidential_tracking_poll

So...how are the protests not representing a significant portion, if not a majority, of American's concerns? As far as "angry mobs", I've seen none. I've seen angry American citizens conducting themselves in an appropriate manner, and with the exception of a few people shouting at politicians (which is not appropriate, but could hardly be called "mobish"), citizens have conducted these debates much more orderly than say...the left when amnesty was being discussed. I seem to remember seeing flaming trash cans, vandalized property, and yes...truly angry, yelling mobs.

Here's the complete bill. Read it, and be informed.

http://energycommerce.house.gov/Press_111/20090714/aahca.pdf

Food for Thought - Part I

2009-08-11T08:15:00.000-05:00

In a previous post I mentioned I'd just read Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle - A Year of Food Life." I have to admit, it's a book I've been putting off for a while because it's non-fiction, and I must confess that sometimes for me reading non-fiction is a struggle unless the book is something I'm truly interested in, like pirates, American history, or political commentary. And even with subjects I'm very interested in, I've waded through some writing as dull as watching paint dry.

And as most fiction-lovers, I've had to put up with so many of those rude, snobby comments from non-fiction readers about how fiction-readers are intellectually inferior, keeping my mouth discreetly shut while longing to make a retaliatory comment about lack of imagination and variety.

However, I finally beat down the NONFICTION monster and delved into Kingsolver's book. Had I not already been a huge fan of Kingsolver's fiction, I likely would've never picked up this book - and that's hard to imagine. From the first pages I never felt a need to lean on the crutch of a fiction book. I took my time, forcing myself to go chapter by chapter, stopping frequently to check out facts and web pages she's listed, and pausing to make notes in my garden journal.

This book is about Kingsolver and her family embarking on a year-long quest to eat foods only gown locally, either from their own farm or purchased from area farmers. She mixes in her reasons for taking on this challenge, and presents many facts and truths about our current mainstream food situation.

She really hit hard on some issues that have been rattling around in my brain for a while now: 1) our fragile food distribution system and the waste it causes, 2) our MEGA loss of vegetable varieties, and 3) the widening gulf between us and our food - not just that it comes from far off, but in the short span of about 50 years we've lost most of the knowledge about growing food that our grandparents just knew. Thousands of years of food-growing knowledge, now gone from our common collective in the blink of an eye. In addition, she touches on the very scary reality of lab engineered hybrid plants - some now being spliced with animal genes. Makes you think twice before diving into that plate of hybrid corn-on-the-cob.

I've mentioned before when talking of gardening that it bothers me greatly that so much of our food is imported. There is a massive gulf between a great majority of us and our food - not only in physical distance, but in the knowledge of where it comes from and how it's grown. It doesn't seem right that we can go to the grocery store in January and buy a puny-looking watermelon. It goes against my ingrained sense that watermelons are to be consumed when the temperature is at least in the 90's and you eat it while standing outside leaning over so the juice doesn't get on your bare feet and make them sticky. And if you actually buy one of these in January, you quickly find that it wasn't worth a cent of what you paid.

What I didn't know is exactly HOW FAR removed we've come from our food supply - so far that kids now don't have a clue what "out of season" means, unless they are one of the dwindling farm kids or in the small minority of gardening families. They don't realize that milk really does come out of a cow, that carrots grow underground, or that peas were in a pod before a can. In addition to our disturbing lack of knowledge, having so much of our food shipped in from parts unknown causes a pretty precarious food supply chain. If that chain were to break, what would we do? A great majority would be running around like headless chickens, with no clue how to produce any food, let alone preserve it for later. Then there's the recent salmonella outbreaks - by the time a problem is realized with the spinach from California, it's made it's way to all points of the country.

I myself know that an apple, no matter how beautiful it appears, isn't supposed to taste like mealy cardboard. A tomato is supposed to be RED (if it indeed is a red variety), juicy, and very tasty - not grainy and hard. I wonder, how many people so far removed from food production really know WHY apples taste so much better in the fall and tomatos all of a sudden gain color and taste in the summer? (Not to mention go down in price). Do they care?

Where I disagreed with Kingsolver was where she seemed to take blame for this trend completely out of the hands of the consumers and put it squarely on "evil" capitalism. It's plain where she stands politically, and she's got every right and decent arguments to that way of looking at things. I just simiply disagree. You're not going to convince me that capitalism isn't the best way to do things - it's what made our country great in the first place. However, it does come with some undesirable side-effects, such as Walmart and lazy consumers. I put the great majority of the blame on the consumer. Capitalism will supply what the consumer demands, and if the consumer demands peaches in December, by golly someone will try to make money getting them into consumer's hands. And the lazy consumer will think this is great, forgetting that peaches are supposed to be eaten in the summer when they are (here we go again), in season, not only tasting good but benefiting local growers.

In addition, Kingsolver really truly believes in global warming caused by greenhouse gasses caused by us, the evil fossil fuel-user, and therefore we shouldn't buy imported foods because of how much fossil fuel it takes to get it from one place to another. I may not agree with the reasoning - I'm not so sold on human-caused global warming as to think we're destroying the planet by eating out-of-season foods, but I do agree it's a tremendous waste, to think of the amount of fuel and resources used to get a tasteless out-of-season apple from California to New York.

I REALLY hate waste. My husband refers to me as the "Water Nazi", and also gets irked that our Tupperware cabinet is full of used butter and cottage cheese containers. Hey, why buy Gladware when you buy it already? Who cares if it says "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter"?

And that's one of my points - I believe we can be much healthier, improve the economy, and "save the planet" just through old-school common sense rather than radically changing the fundamentals of our American way of life. How many rich actors screaming about environmentalism save their butter containers and re-use water bottles?

Even if you disagree with the above sentiment, wouldn't it be at least a little better if everyone were more aware of where their food comes from? If everyone were to make a little effort at buying local food and helping the local economy? If we took a step back and re-learned a bit of the knowledge that was so common just 50 years ago? I just happened to drive by the farmer's market last week, and there were plenty of delicious-looking organic produce, at VERY reasonable prices. Yep, even though I'm going to be covered in tomatos in the next few weeks (I got mine in late), I bought some. Along with a very delicious watermelon. And yes, my first step toward heirloom gardening was saving the seeds.

I'm not at all sure I'm ready to take the year-long challenge as Kingsolver did, though I may think about it. Of course, Marden would also have to be on board. And when you think about what that REALLY means, it's a daunting proposition. But, I feel we're on the right track.

I'm sure I'll have much more on this later, lest my rambling thoughts continue to carry on in different disjointed tangents for pages. For now, just some "food for thought."

Me, Mom, Chiggers, and Granolas

2009-08-07T17:28:00.005-05:00

There was a little chigger,

that wasn’t any bigger,

Than the point of a teeny-tiny pin.

But the lump that it made,

just itches like the blaze,

And that’s where the rub comes in.
Comes in, comes in, and that’s where the rub comes in.

Yes, the lump that it made just itches like the blaze,

And that’s where the rub comes in.

I came across this little ditty while doing some Internet research to see if there are ANY chigger remedies out there I haven't tried. There aren't.

Last week was pretty awesome - Mom came to visit, and for once during a visit of hers we didn't have anything to do but enjoy ourselves. Of course, you also begin to realize how boring your life is when you are attempting to entertain someone...made especially difficult when you're going sans-TV. We ended up reading a lot. A LOT. I gulped down 1 1/2 books, and I think she got in a whole two.

We got in some more active activities, too. Since I've lived in the area, I've been meaning to take in some of the local trails - and I haven't. As much as I enjoy hiking, sometimes I tend to overlook trails right in our own area. Heck, Marden and I hiked the heck out of Colorado and Tennessee, but have virtually ignored great trails right here in our back yard. So, Mom and I took off for the Buffalo River, meaning to hike Indian Rockhouse Trail. Once we FINALLY found the trail (Buffalo Point Park, which is NPS, should really consider a labeled MAP), it was definitely worth our while. Indian Rockhouse was an awesome trail, mildly strenuous (I hate trails that feel as if you're walking through a cow pasture), scenic, and with lots of stuff to see along the way. Not to mention the actual rock house, which goes beyond description. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures to show because I seem to have lost the cord I need to download pictures. Maybe by next post. And this is where we were viciously attacked by chiggers.

I HATE chiggers. Not that I know anyone who likes them, but I sure seem to be a target more than most. I must taste like chigger candy. I love summer, but I DREAD the inevitable - having my feet/ankles/lower legs look like they've been chewed and on FIRE with itch. And chigger bites aren't only uncomfortable (to put it mildly), but extremely unattractive to the point of looking like the poor afflicted is carrying some kind of disease, only compounded by dried calamine lotion. Ick. This summer I'd been lucky, but of course my luck had to run out. I'm afflicted.

Another highlight during Mom's visit was a trip up to Mansfield, MO to Bakersville, home of Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds. Here's a link if you want to check them out. You can also sign up for a catalog: http://rareseeds.com/

I've been meaning to get up there to take a look for a while, but I've recently read a book which really made me jump onto the heirloom bandwagon full-throttle.

I've been reading Barbara Kingsolver's "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle", and it's really woken me up to a lot of issues concerning our food...issues which have been banging around in my head for some time, and this book really brought them into focus. More on that later, lest this post turn into something resembling the Internet version of "War and Peace." But in a nutshell, I've gone from being pretty unconcerned as to whether the stuff I planted in my garden was hybrid or heirloom to now being pretty darn convinced that I should be not only planting ONLY heirlooms, but saving the seeds as well. But like I said, likely MUCH more thoughts on that later, as this was kind of one of those life-altering reads. (Hey, I SAW you roll your eyes...)

Mom and I trekked up to Bakersville bright and not-so-early for their monthly garden festival and summer seed sale. Overall, the place was pretty cool. Not worth the 1hr+ drive if you're not after seeds, but still pretty cool. They had a pioneer village, poultry on display, a farmer's market, and folk music. I could've done without the folk music. Not that I just hate folk music - I did grow up hearing a couple of Peter, Paul, and Mary albums mixed in with copious amounts of John Denver. I guess that music just seemed to have a time and place, and this modern folk music makes me want to toss my cookies. It's like the people are pretending way to hard to be all "folky" and one with Mother Earth and all that jazz. It just doesn't seem to fly in 2009. I would much rather have heard some good bluegrass, but the closest anyone got was some dude yodeling. Gack. Bakersville really draws the modern-day hippies, or as my brother calls them (and therefore I cobbed onto the term too), "Granolas." Granolas were out in force this day. Guys wearing tye-dye shirts with rolled-up or crazily cut-off overalls, girls also sporting overalls, but some opting for the "I-weave-my-own-fabric-from-organic-cat-hair-while-singing If I Had a Hammer" skirts. Rope sandals, earrings on guys, and my favorite - very large American Indian necklaces on obviously white people - were also pretty common. Mom bought a plant from an oldish guy wearing overalls and six earrings in his ear. I even spotted a flyer advertising Cindy Sheehan's anti-war cause stuck in a display case among antique gardening flyers. Silly Granolas...

Still, there were "normal folk" at this thing, too...I guess as normal as you can get spending your Sunday at a garden festival celebrating organic and heirloom fruits and veggies...so Mom and I weren't too conspicuous in our jeans and sneakers. We made out like bandits in the seed store, and I've got my work cut out for me next year with starting my own seeds. I did try it last year without success. I got the seeds to sprout nicely, but I tried setting out half the baby plants well after the frost and they promptly died a spectacular death. Same for the indoor seeds I DIDN'T set out. Yes...definitely have a busy winter ahead figuring this seed-starting business out. If I'm successful, I'll have all kinds of heirloom tomatoes coming out my ears, as well as some crazy stuff I just wanted to try. Blue pole beans, anyone?

A Successful Mid-Summer Break

2009-07-30T10:49:00.015-05:00

The shin splints are gone, and my spirits are refreshed after several days of no-stress fishing in very beautiful, un-Julyish weather. Many trout were caught, numerous fish released, and a few un-lucky ones had a meeting with the BBQ grill. YUM.

Shaping Up - Update

2009-07-25T07:44:00.004-05:00

OUCH. Shin splints.

I have heard the only cure is a good long soaking in waters inhabited by trout...and if I'm soaking, I'm pretty much obligated to fish.

If I must, I must.

Health Care Worries

2009-07-23T15:23:00.004-05:00

If you want an idea of why this current government-sponsored health care bill is a NIGHTMARE, listen to this Betsy McCaughey interview with Fred Thompson.

http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=147494195032&h=f80sk&u=buHl_&ref=nf

So many people seem to think that "free" government sponsored health care is a good idea. Believe it or not, I used to think this at one time too, having been frustrated with my own experiences with health insurance. It's been a few years of doing research, reading, and trying to see things from all sides. Having done research and also talked to quite a few people who live or have lived in countries where health care is government provided, I DON'T think this is a good idea. Doctors no longer have incentive. Patients are just a number. Bureaucrats make the decisions on what care you can/can't get based on numbers on a paper. Old people and the infirm are viewed as "expensive liabilities" and worth less than healthy people, frequently DYING before care is approved or because care was not approved at all. Then, there's the HUGE TAXES to pay for it.

I'll be the first to admit that there are major problems with our current system, but I really believe we do have the best system and that these problems can be fixed through reform that doesn't take the control from us and doesn't put all control into the government's hands. I think it goes beyond politics. Whether you're Democrat or Republican, seriously ask yourself whether this is truly the direction we should go.

There are some serious questions I'd like to ask President Obama right now, including:

Why the hard push to get this passed when you admit you haven't read the bill, and admittedly aren't familiar with some of the basic tenants of the bill?

Why not slow down a bit, lay it ALL out, let the American people see it, read it, and then let the PEOPLE decide to fundamentally change the whole system?

Why did you vote AGAINST every health care reform bill that ever came up, but yet are trying to push this huge monstrosity through now as "health care reform"?

Why do you keep saying we can keep our current providers when it plainly states in the bill that we can't?

I have so many questions I can't list them all. I think of my Grandma, and I think of my parents when I hear this interview and others speaking out against this bill, and hear the big push to get this bill passed. I hear people who haven't done any research and who think they'll be getting "free health care" speaking in favor of this...some of the same people I've heard gripe about HMOs. This would be like a massive HMO. It would be like this CRAPPY Military TriCare my husband and I are on, where it's impossible to see a specialist or just to get someone to LISTEN. It's so bad people routinely refer to it as "Tri-UnCare." I'm surprised and dismayed that people are so willing to give up free will without really considering it.

And I'm scared.

A Quest to Shape Up

2009-07-22T08:38:00.000-05:00

Recently I've lit a fire under my own butt to get in shape. I'm totally and completely appalled at the way my fitness has rapidly declined over the last few years. Once upon a time not too terribly long ago, I was a strong, lean, multi-sport college athlete. Now I'm not. Like so many many others, I've let life get in the way, and too many times used the excuse of "I worked hard today...I don't need excercise", so that eventually I got out of the habit.

Several recent events have, however, brought the issue to my attention. First, I'm currently on the church's co-ed softball team, and we play once a week. It's been at least 3 years since I've even been on a softball field, but I figured that since this is a sport I know inside and out, it would be business as usual. Heh. During the first game, after hitting a single to first, I thought my lungs were disintegrating. On the next hit I got thrown out at second because I was simply out of gas. Later in the game on my way from second to third, I tripped over my own feet to get a face full of dirt and had to frantically crawl back to second. How embarassing. I held my own in the outfield for a while, but eventually got burned on a fly ball I would've easily caught just three years ago. I knew the answer to my troubles but just didn't want to admit it. The sad truth is that I am *sigh* in my 30's now, and after a few years without any regular fitness it's really taken it's toll.

Then, I went to a routine doctor visit and found my resting heart rate to be 74. Not that great. Not HORRIBLE, but not great, either. I know that the doc's office isn't exactly the place to feel relaxed, so I tested myself later: 78. Eek. Granted, that's still in the realm of "normal", but it doesn't exactly scream healthy....especially when it used to regularly be in the low 60's.

The last is a real motivator...probably THE motivator. As mentioned in previous posts, we recently redid our bathrooms. In our master bath there is now a large mirror opposite the shower. *sigh* Soon my butt will have to have it's own zip code.

I've had countless people say things like, "Oh, that's just getting older" and "Yeah, once you hit 30 it's all downhill...nothing much you can do." What a load of utter horse pucky. Sure, I understand things slow down, body parts start giving in to gravity, it IS harder to lose weight, and you can't fight time...but you CAN be healthy, and I'm totally ashamed of myself for having to get BACK in shape when I never should've gotten out of it in the first place. I've let excuses rule my life, and I've had enough. Like on Stephanie's Pointed Meanderings blog recently - I need to get INTENTIONAL.

Hubby is also feeling the need for fitness. Now that he works with other full-time in-shape army types, he told me he's tired of walking around the office trying to appear normal and relaxed, all the while struggling to keep his gut sucked in. He even exercises more regularly than me, mostly because he has regular PT tests.

Our answer is a program really gaining popularity called Crossfit, which a lot of military people seem to use and we can do together. Every day a workout is posted to http://www.crossfit.com/, which is the kind of direction I need. I need to follow a specific program and be told what to do, and the program also encompasses many aspects of fitness - cardio, strength, endurance, balance, flexibility, and diet. It's also very hard-core, but the workouts can be modified to fit your fitness level (or lack of, in my case). I found this out on the FAQ page, after I panicked while checking the "Workout of the Day" (or "WOD"...this site really likes acronyms) and the assignment was "Run a 10K for time." I nearly fell out of the chair. I can't even run to first base. For no time. Imagine my relief when I found out their philosophy is to take it slow and work up to the WOD, which some people may never do, and to keep in mind age and gender may also affect the workout. I could be called feminist, but I'm also a realist. I'm pretty sure I'll never work up to doing 3 reps of 50 pull-ups. They also give lots of excercise substitutions - for instance, if you are like me and can't do a pull-up at all, do a negative pull-up, which is to get yourself up to the bar and let yourself down slowly. The whole idea is to get as close as possible without overdoing it. I kind of like that - always having a specific goal on the horizon, even if it *may* never be attained.

Right now my goal is to 1) stick with the running, and 2) survive the running. The rest I can handle.

They say runners fit into two categories: they either love running or they hate it. I don't fit into either...I LOATHE running. I always have. In high school track I did field events and was on a sprint team (4x100), but I stayed far from long distance events. In college I was always among the last to drag in after a distance run. The announcement of a "5-mile run today" always sent dread through my body, though I never minded sprint workouts. In the police academy I endured the morning runs, but never found that groove runners talk about getting into. I did significantly improve my running time over the 3 months, but to me that just meant a shorter time to suffer. I enjoyed no part of it.

I'm still searching for that groove. On my runs to the highway and back, I suffer all the old pains running always gives - my lungs feel like exploding, my knees feel funny, my throat feels swelled, my ears and even my teeth hurt. It's horrible. The reward only comes later in the form of tired muscles and the satisfaction that I'm making an effort, the hope that my runs will get easier, and the fact that even though I may miss a few days due to this or that, this time the routine seems to be well on it's way to habit.

My Sticky, Sticky Shoe...

2009-07-18T07:36:00.003-05:00

Not only is that a Phoebe song from Friends, it now applies to the right flop of my favorite pair of flip-flops.

Side note: Remember when we could call them "thongs" without getting laughed at? Is that a sign of advancing age?

While down in Little Rock this week, looking at what may become our new abode (more on that later), I spent a few hours shopping while waiting for Marden to be off for lunch. One of my stops, of course, was Gander Mountain. Evidently the staff had been doing some re-arranging, and someone had peeled off the wide tape that had been down to mark aisles, but had not removed the sticky. While browsing the ladies's shorts I unknowingly landed my right foot squarely in this area. As I went to take another step, the shoe was stuck so forcefully that my foot came out, along with part of the strap, and I careened into a rack of "Life is Good" t-shirts. At that point life was not good...I was stuck in Gander Mountain with only one working shoe. I was, however, able to get the strap temporarily fixed, but now the bottom of the shoe was incredibly sticky.

Walking around on the concrete floor sounded something like, "flop...schllleeeeeeeep...flop...schlleeeeeeep...flop...schlllleeeeeeep..." Nice. Why always me? I guess a less-nice person would've sued, but instead I sheepishly made my way back to the car.

On to my destination - Academy Sports in the quest to find some running clothes. More on my workout intentions later, but for now I'll just mention that I am starting a new workout routine, and it occured to me on my first day of this routine that my workout clothes were in sorry shape. Several years with no regular workout-type exercise has not only taken a fitness toll, but a wardrobe toll as well. I was down to threadbare t-shirts from college, which really should be in the rag bin, and shorts (also mostly from my college days) with disintigrated elastic bands or holes. And I also thought it would be nice, solely for motivation's sake of course, to have nice new shorts and matching t's. If they happen to also be snazzy looking, well, that's just the price I have to pay to get in shape.

My problem in getting to Academy was mostly due to my fear of city driving. I get so irritated around Mountain Home getting behind a blue-hair from Chicago who can't drive hilly curves (a popular yankee technique is to floor it in the straight parts, run up on a curve, and slam on the brakes taking the curve at 20 mph). But, I've never really learned to comfortably city-drive, especially in areas I don't really know. I can do fine, but it sometimes comes with sweaty palms, gritted teeth, and white knuckles. In this particular area of town, it seems the road system was laid out by a drunk monkey. I had been to this Gander Mountain before, so arriving safely on the first try wasn't a problem. However, my drive to Academy Sports was a bit more interesting. I detest one-way outer roads, and this area is full of them. I drove by Academy no less than three times, like the Griswolds driving by Big Ben over and over again on the roundabout in Family Vacation.

"Look kids, there's Academy Sports!...Look kids, there's Academy Sports!"

I finally made it, in a mood not really fit for trying on shorts, but I eventually emerged victorious and with several new, cute (and on sale), running outfits.

Still hearing "Schlllleeeep...flop....shlllleeeeep...flop...", the whole way back to the car.

Berries, Gender-Confused Deer, and Bikes

2009-07-16T07:37:00.002-05:00

Last week I FINALLY totally and completely finished work in the house with the installation of those final folding closet doors, installing base and door trim in and around said closet, and cutting/painting/installing new exterior trim for the back door. Neither job was even half as simple as it sounds, but oh so rewarding to proclaim, "It is DONE!" to nobody in particular.

Since hubby was at his weekend National Guard drill, I pointed my evil SUV toward my folk's for a little break. Naturally, since I like to think of myself as an accomplished multi-tasker, I also chose this visit to coincide with blackberry-picking time. Mom and Dad have some nice, productive bushes which were starts from Grandpa's bushes, and so far I've just got sprigs. I did manage to pick four blackberries this year. Not four cups...four berries. And, since moving is in our hopefully near future, the bushes will once again be uprooted and relocated (no way in heck I'm leaving them! This includes 5 blackberry and 10 gooesberry bushes.), and even next year four berries is likely all I can hope for.

Not that berries were my only motivation. Of course I wanted to visit, and I also wanted to see "Daisy", the fawn they've been raising for a few weeks now. Daisy showed up one day stuck in the fence, after being chased by a dog, with no mother doe in sight. Since it had been chased, needed doctoring from it's collision with the fence, and the folks with the neighboring farm had heard it hollering the day before, it was assumed that this was definately an occasion for intervention. It was a pet-peeve of mine as a Park Ranger that many well-meaning people would mistakenly kidnap fawns from mama deer every year, but in this case I'm certain the fawn needed the help.

Mom and Dad nursed it back to health, gave it antibiotic shots for an infected lip, and now it's growing like a weed. It's nose and mouth are still a little boogered up, but on the mend. He does seem to have a very prominent overbite, which could either be from injury or birth defect. However, it doesn't seemt to affect his eating. The only problem I spotted was the name "Daisy." They took for granted that the fawn was female, not having really investigated the very furry nether regions. And of course, I really have to know these things, so I made the discovery that "she" was really "he", and the name was promptly changed to "Davy."

Davy spends most of his time laying in the tall weeds down close to the creek or out in the blackberry bushes, only coming when he's called for to take a bottle. And he does come running, nearly barrelling over the bottle-holder. He's pretty spooky of people, which is a good thing, but he did get used to me enough to keep me company while berry picking (along with Dixie and Toby the cat), and he came over for a head-scratch from time to time before wandering off.

Aside from picking berries and determining fawn gender, I also went with Dad on a motorcycle ride. Dad's a "Prospect" for a local motorcycle club, and they were participating in a huge area fund raiser for Muscular Dystrophy. This is us heading to Joplin with a group of club riders. The rally was pretty cool - lots of cool bikes, and lots of bikers. I like looking at bikes, and the bikers were no less interesting. Not that I'm bashing bikers at all. Bikers are some of the nicest people out there, who do immeasurable good for various charities - it's just that if I were to become a biker, I'm not sure I'd fit in with appearance. I DID find out, though, that a great place to keep cigarettes is in your bra strap. I assume this provides for easy access and hands-free storage.

Unfortunately the mullet-hunting wasn't very productive at this event. Bikers and bike fans don't seem to sport mullets, instead favoring more normal and likely helmet-friendly hairdos, ranging from shaved heads, to normal hair (Dad fits into this category), to overall long hair pulled into a ponytail. We still haven't quite talked Dad into the clip-on ponytail, but I think it would look dashing, and it might make him feel more like a biker.

The most eye-catching item I spotted was a very prominently displayed belly. This guy was incredibly proud of his rotund appendage, showcasing the roundness for all to enjoy with a inadequate t-shirt and shortie-shorts. It's not certain how this belly was attained. My assumption is years of hard work with beer cans and hot dogs, but one can never be sure with a specemin of this magnitude.

Man that's a lotta goats

2009-07-14T08:57:00.004-05:00