Well Adventures and a Quiet Fire

 I had plans for the day after Dingo died: the ritual of passing, of acknowledging that something has left your life.  It's practical; I wanted to give his cage a thorough cleaning, and clean up his corner of the room where he had lived.

So I got up, breakfasted, did a few morning chores, including getting a load of laundry started, and went out to turn the hose on the cage.  The water pressure was a little low, but I assumed that was because the washing machine was also filling.  But then I heard strange sounds coming from the house - the washing machine was spitting air instead of water.  I quickly turned it off and went to check the well.

The pump wouldn't kick on.  I tried the usual fixes, which consisted of giving the switch box a good whack, and then going inside to the circuit breaker box for the good ol "turn it off and turn it back on" again.  Neither worked.  I had no running water.  This means I would have to call a well company, and wait however many days until someone could come out, meanwhile hauling water (at least I still hadn't emptied out my water stash from my storm prep) and taking sponge baths.  And, oh yeah - I had that load of wet laundry in the washing machine that needed to be rinsed.

Or  . . . I could try fixing it.  What usually goes out on a well is the pressure switch.  I drove to Home Depot and got a new one.  In theory, it's an easy procedure: Turn the power off.  Take the lid off of the old switch, undo four screws to remove the wires, pull them out of the box.  Unscrew the old box from the pipe.  Screw on the new box, feed the wires in, and screw them down.  Should take 20-30 minutes.

"Should."  Such a lovely term.  In reality, everything was corroded pretty solidly.  Screws did not want to come out.  Unscrewing the old box from the pipe ended up taking a plumber's wrench, a pair of channel locks, and a lot of swearing.  Screwing the wires back into place was again an easy concept: bend the end of the wire into a "J", hook it around the screw, and tighten it down.  The reality is that it's quite a heavy wire and uncooperative.  The screw is only about 1/4" long.  With one hand, using a pair of needle nose pliers, I could get the wire into place.  With the other hand, I could get a screw into position.  Had I been an octopus, I could have then picked up the screwdriver.  As it was, it ended up taking about 10 minutes for each of the screws.  At one point I was trying to remember how Bob would have done this.  And I know:  He would have said "hey - hold this in position while I screw it down."

At that point a few tears were shed among the swearing.  It didn't help that it was 90 degrees, the mosquitoes were biting, my back was seizing up (all of this was done bending over) and dammit - Dingo died and I'm sad.

Eventually I got it all put together, and then - seriously praying that the problem really had been the pressure switch - went inside and flipped the power back on.  I didn't hear any electrical explosions.  When I went out to check, the pump was running and the tank was filling.  I was able to take a shower and finish my laundry and flush my toilet.

I should have been dancing around and yelling "Booyah!"  But I was hot, sweaty, mosquito chewed and honestly this was a learning curve that I didn't want to have.  And part of me was wondering how the hell I became a person who could look at a well that wasn't working, decide what the problem was, and go buy the part and fix it?  Who am I?  The line from "Africa" keeps running through my head: "I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become."

And it's at times like this that I deeply and desperately miss Bob.  I can cry into my pillow for little Dingo, but it doesn't put any arms around me.  We would have replaced the switch together, he knowing what to do and being strong enough to break corroded things loose, me being the gofer and holding things in place.

Today, in contrast, was beautiful.  The temperature decided to drop 20 degrees, the sky was clear, and there was wind in the trees.  I got Dingo's cage scrubbed and stored in the barn; in years to come it will likely hold foster opossums.  I did  hold it and cry for a bit; it was just so empty and lifeless.  His wooden castle went to the burn pit.

It was a perfect day to get a fire going and start dealing with all the yard waste.  I thought I should grab the chain saw and start dismantling one of those downed trees.  But I said the hell with it.  I already had a big stack of fallen branches that I've been dragging over during the regular yard picking up, plus a stack of cut-up wood from previous cleanups.  So I just lit the fire and sat beside it to read, and got that built-up pile taken care of.  

I want to do as much cleaning and burning as possible while I can.  Despite the storm last week, we're still well below our needed rainfall for the year and I suspect another burn ban will happen this winter.  But today, I rested.

Schrodinger Squirrel

 Sept. 10, 2014, I got a slightly panicked call from a friend of mine. "Ann - I found a baby squirrel.  What do I do?"
And, of course, my response was "meet me with it."

He said that it did have some fur, but the eyes were closed, which made it 2-3 weeks old.  I was expecting a squirrel about 2 1/2 inches long, maybe weighing an ounce.  What he gave me was more like an inch and a half long, and when I weighed him, he tipped the scale at 9 grams - about 1/3 ounce.  Tiny flying squirrel.

So small that I had to use an IV tip on a syringe to feed him.  And feed him I did - around the clock.  I got it down to a fine art:  I could get up at 2 a.m., warm his milk, feed him, get him settled back down, clean the syringe, and be back in bed by 2:12.

Nine days - 60+ feedings later - he was growing fast. Up to 1/2 ounce

And in three more weeks his eyes were open, and I could give up the 2:00 a.m. feedings.

It was about this time he got his name.  Normally, I don't name my fosters; it makes it easier to give them up when it's time for the release.  But one day I fed him, then put him back in his basket.  A moment later, I heard a little squeak - and was horrified to see that he had coughed up some of his milk and was choking on it.  He was starting to shake - which means death in about a minute.  I grabbed his syringe, stuck it down his throat, and pulled back on it.  A minute went by - then two and three.  He continued to tremble, but he was breathing.  Every time I went to check, I would pause for a moment, because until I actually looked, he could be either dead or alive.  Hence - Schrodinger's Squirrel.   That's a lot of name for such a small critter, so he became Dingo.

I bought him a castle.

I had not planned on keeping him; I was very good about releasing my fosters, no matter how attached I got.  But I wasn't able to get any more flying squirrels to raise with him, and the rehabbers I contacted didn't have any so that I could hand him over.  It was a late spring that year - by the time it was warm enough to release him, the rehabber I worked with said he was too imprinted and that I should keep him.

I learned to keep a binder clip on the cage door.  It was one of those where a bar fits into a notch to keep it closed - but he figured out how to grab it and lift it out and have his escape and spend the night exploring the room (I am a bit sentimental now about the chewed pages on some of my books.)

I read that flying squirrels fluoresce under black light - so I got my flashlight and - sure enough.

 Of course, there is a reason I'm making this little trip down memory lane.  He turned 12 a month ago, which is pretty old for something the size of a hamster.  He's been showing his age, tending to lose his balance when running around, and sometimes seeming a little confused.  But even last night he was being lively, and demanding his cashew (he was quite the little gourmet).  His fur was still sleek and smooth, his bright little eyes undimmed.

But this afternoon, he was gone.  He lived in the back room, away from the cats (but where my other fosters would live.  I think he liked it when I had new baby critters, because he never outgrew his liking for the special milk formula).  It's going to be quieter and lonelier back there now.  Even though he was nocturnal, every time I walked in the room, he would have his head out of his castle window, demanding his tribute of a peanut.  My tiny prince in his little castle.

I'll miss him.

Isaias and Other Oddments

 I feel doubly sorry for the people in Pensacola, Destin, and Ft. Walton.  Not only do they have to deal with the incredible damage of being hit by a hurricane, but also by one with an unpronounceable name:  Isaias.  Some commentators managed to get it - our governor said he wasn't even going to bother to try because it was too weird (considering that it's Spanish and a lot of his constituency is Hispanic, that was rather rude).  For the record, it's "ee-sah-EE-as."

So of course I've spent a lot of time this past week doing storm prep.  There was a low chance of a direct hit, but these things have been known to change direction.  This time we were on the east side, which gets the biggest load of rain sucked up from the Gulf (of Mexico!).  It was funny to notice my two highest priorities, the first being water.  I have a couple of cases of drinking water, and I filled up my recycled seltzer bottles that I keep for the occasion and have them in the fridge and freezer.  And then my collection of kitty litter buckets.  I know I live in the woods, but I've gotten civilized in my old age and I want flushing water.

My other high priority seem to be my phone.  I have my big battery (useful also for filling tires and jumping the car if needed), the two power packs that go to my electric spinning wheels, and my weather radio, all of which can charge my phone.  

All those got charged, along with my headlamp and camping lamps, and other flashlights got old-fashioned batteries in them.  Basically, I was preparing to be without power for a few days.  I have my camp stove, and food in the pantry.  I've got the big tarps where I can grab them (in case a tree falls on the house).  I brought the cat carriers up from the barn.

I updated my State Farm app on my phone.  My rule during power outages is to not open the freezer door - it can hold for 3-4 days if you don't open (especially when crammed with ice packs and frozen water bottles).  I keep my bread in the freezer, but I pulled out a few day's worth.  I also got a small cooler and dumped most of the ice out of my icemaker and turned it off so I wouldn't have to deal with a cinder block of thawed and refrozen ice cubes.

I did keep enough in there to give me information if I needed it.  If they melt enough to just stick together a bit, then the stuff in the freezer is safe.  If they've melted and refrozen into a solid block, some stuff will likely have to be tossed.

When I was rattling this off to my brother, he said "this ain't your first rodeo."  Nor, alas, will it be my last.

After all that,  pretty much nothing happened.  Some wind and a good amount of rain.  But what does one do while waiting?  If you're me, you finish knitting, then washing and blocking yet another shawl  (yes, I seem to be addicted to knitting shawls - they're so delightfully mindless)

But I'm having my post-storm restlessness.  I was ready to handle whatever got thrown my way - and nothing did.  So the last couple of days I've just sort of putzed around taking care of small stuff.  Among other things, today I installed the new smoke detector.  My old one died a couple of months ago, and I got as far as buying a new one and it's been sitting on the counter ever since.

In the Before Times,  it would have found its way onto the wall by now.  But there it sits.  So I finally got the small ladder, drill, screwdriver, etc. and got it put up.

Yes, there's a feeling of satisfaction to being able to (so far) handle everything that comes my way.  But also a bit of sadness, because if I don't do something, or at least arrange for it to be done (I can't quite put a new roof on the house), it won't happen.  It's all on me, every decision, every action.  I'm competent.  But sometimes I wish I didn't have to be, not quite so much.

Puppets, puppets, everywhere

 I've always enjoyed puppets - watching them, making them, using them.  Lately I've let myself really lean into them - and they seem to be leaning back.

Possibly some of it is the Baaer-Meinhoff phenomena (frequency illusion).  It's when you focus on something, and suddenly you see it everywhere.  Some of it is actual coincidence.

Like the tabletop puppet workshop I took a couple of weeks ago.  The instructor offers a workshop about once every two years - and it just popped up recently.
Another professional puppeteer who offers online classes also, just this week, gave a free hour-plus masterclass overview, which included showing the inner workings of some of his puppets, and puppeting techniques.  A good puppeteer doesn't need an elaborate puppet - they can convey a personality with a scarf, or a water bottle.  It's all about the body language.

At the baby shower a couple of weeks ago, I saw a guy I hadn't seen for a couple of years.  He's an artist, so we were talking our art and I showed him my puppet pictures.  He mentioned another mutual friend that I haven't seen in about four years, and mentioned that she was also making puppets.  I sent her a text - and she invited me to a group that was making puppets this past weekend.

So yeah - a lot of puppets coming at me.

I did go to the group thing.  Jennifer had mentioned that the host had been making puppets for 15 years.  I was looking forward to learning something - maybe how to do blinking eye mechs or flapping wings or other mechanics.  Or maybe learn some of those puppeting techniques.

Alas, no.  He makes puppets for things like rallies and protests.  Last year for No Kings they made large figures representing migrant children.

Which are cool, and remind me of the big street puppets I've seen in parades in Mexico, but there are no sophisticated mechanics.

This year they are making big eyeballs for No Kings (either representing "keeping an eye on you" or "I (eye) voted."

I even kept my mouth shut about these, because I had just met our hosts and didn't want to be one of *those* people.  But these are big - about 18" across, and made of paper mache, which is relatively heavy.  There is a hole in the bottom that will be lined with foam rubber, and they will be worn like big hats.  There is a sort of rule in theater that actors should never support the weight of a costume on their heads.  I fear that their actors are going to have some very sore necks, but it's not my circus.

I helped to paint a couple of eyes, but even there I was frustrated.  Jennifer made her living "by the brush" - painting scenic backgrounds for stage and screen.  I was struggling with the paints.  We were using paper plates for palettes, which made it tricky to thin the paints.  I was having trouble getting the right texture, and shading the colors.  My painting was coming out muddy - either too thick, or too watery and transparent.  (This is not impostor syndrome - I am very capable of being pleased when I do good work; this was not good).  I asked Jennifer for advice, but she just assured me that I didn't have to do what she did, and I was doing fine.  Well, I didn't want reassurance; I wanted assistance.  She wanted to focus on her own work, which I understand.

Fortunately the weather stepped in.  About the time I was feeling a bit frustrated, and also when a lot more people were supposed to show up (the area was a bit crowded with only the four of us) - it started to rain.  Thunderstorms were predicted, coming from the west.   I explained that I lived about 20 miles west, and needed to get home before the storms.

So - it was, well, nice.   I did not come home all excited and inspired, but I also didn't return with "there's four hours of my life that I'll never get back again."  I was, of course, invited to come be an eyeball at the rally, but I declined.   All in all, I'd rather be in my cottage.

Speaking of which - the Leszy now has legs and a torso.  Tomorrow I figure out arms (making them shouldn't be too complicated, but I have to figure out how to attach them to move freely).

Time for a Ramble

 Just a bunch of disconnected thoughts.

For a couple of weeks now I've been jonesing for a rotisserie chicken.  I don't know why - it's too much meat for me (yes, it can be pulled off and frozen, but to me, freezers are where things go to be forgotten).  If I want chicken, I can get a pack of thighs and do a tray bake.

But no - dammit, I wanted a rotisserie chicken, with that fatty overseasoned skin.  It's been 5-6 years since I last got one.  I keep thinking of something that I saw posted once of a woman who said "I want a man who can look over and see me in my car in the parking lot, eating a rotisserie chicken with my bare hands, and think 'yep, that's the woman for me.'"   So I got one today. I did not eat it in the car (it was too bloody hot today) but when I got home I did open the package and just reached in and pulled off pieces and ate it with my fingers and shared it with the cats, and it was glorious.  Tomorrow I'll shred it off the bones and yes, freeze some.  And shock the spirit of my mother because I am not then going to boil the carcass for broth.  Instead, I'll toss it to the chickens, although it's rather disturbing how enthusiastic those little cannibals can be.

Going feral - that's what it felt like.  I like the idea of being feral.  I just finished a book - Southern Gothic genre - in which a family lives in complete isolation in a crumbling mansion in a bog.  There was a part at the end that was supposed to be the horror part - a brother and sister wanted to be part of the bog, to lie down and just feel the tree roots and mushroom mycelium and the life of the soil, so they did - laid down, dug their toes and fingers into the soil, began to grow roots and finally turned into vegetation.

My reaction - that's my dream.  To go down to my woods, dig myself in, and just give up and be part of it all.

Fall is doing it's annual strip tease.  "Ooooo - here's a hint of cool and dry.  No - let's go back to hot and sticky,  Ooooo - a bit of edge to a breeze.  Nope, let's raise the humidity again."  Driving me a little bonkers.

I got to watch an alligator at the museum being caught and moved to a holding pen.  Up close - like a few feet away in case I needed to grab a tail or a leg (I didn't).   She's about an 8 footer, and very strong.  It's one thing to watch this on TV - another thing to see that death roll and fighting right in front of you.

I haven't worked on the Leczy for a couple of days.  He's hit that adolescent stage that most projects do, when you sort of lose the vision and wonder what the heck you were thinking.  I'll push past it.

I got myself in a social situation again, although I'm still feeling peopled out.   At the baby shower a couple of weeks ago I talked to a guy I hadn't seen for awhile, who mentioned that a mutual friend (Jennifer) was also making puppets.  I haven't seen Jennifer for 4-5 years, so I dropped her a note and said maybe we could get together.  I did get a response - and an invitation to join the group who are making puppets for a political rally of some sort.  Ugh. "Group" and "Political" - two things I could do without.  But it could still be fun, so I'm going.

I had a really nice dream the other night.  I think it was triggered from working in the cottage and, as usual, realizing how much I miss Bob.  I could be working, and he'd just pop in to see what I was doing, sit and chat, maybe have some tea if it was winter.  I really miss that - I haven't met anyone who would want to just hang out like that, someone to chat with while I work.  So in the dream, I did - but it was James Ortiz (the guy who puppeteered Rocky).  Usually, when one dreams of a celebrity, it's one of the "interesting" dreams.  In this case, no.  It was more like having a little brother visiting.  We talked, I teased him about his crazy hair, at some point he helped me with something.  It was just the feeling of being comfortable and relaxed, affectionate and teasing.    I was in a good happy mood for the entire next day,

It's like what I wrote about recently - I've realized that something doesn't have to be real to be positive.   I got another glimmer of that when I came home today and asked Alexa to "play music" and got "based on your preferences, here's a playlist for you."  And y'know - it's nice that something knows what music I like.

I'm recording a book.  It's time to read "A Night In The Lonesome October" - it's written in 31 chapters, one for each day of the month.  The discipline is to only read one chapter a day - and at the beginning, they're short.  This year I thought I'd try reading it out loud, and Ebaida asked me to record it for her.  We'll see how long that lasts  - I'm not good at doing voices.

I finished spinning and plying about 800 yards of fine yarn (using that new electric wheel that I got for plying).  It's quite pretty - merino wool, camel, and silk in greens and maroon.  I just washed it, so I'll try to get a picture later.  No, I don't know what I'll do with it.  Spinning is something I do because I enjoy it; the yarn is a byproduct.

So there's the rambling week.  Closeup of alligator wrangling (and yes, I was disappointed that they didn't need my help).  Feral chicken eating.  Book recording. Handspinning.  Bit of work on the Leczy (he does have a torso now but it needs another layer of paper).

And wondering what it would be like to go down to the woods, dig in my toes and fingers to grow roots and just disappear.

Caught up

 Well, I made it through everything in my last post and then some.  The weather popped up hot and sticky again, but then another front came through and today has been glorious (OK, my easily wilted brother might not think of 85 as "cool" but the humidity is an unbelievable 30%!!!)

I learned a lot in the puppet workshop, and have taken most of my notes (I have a few more days with access to the videos).  I have the basic "skeleton" made. There are still many hours of carving, covering, and decorating to go, but that can wait until later because I wanted to get back to the Lescy puppet.  I did have one of those "duh" moments.  I did OK on making the legs of the tabletop puppet, but I didn't do so well on the body.  I kept thinking "I wish I had."  She had warned us about not making the hips and shoulders too big - but I made them a little too shallow.  I wish I had known that the pink insulation foam board that I had left over from the ceiling project would have been a better material to use than a styrofoam ball.  I wish I had thought to clamp the body pieces together and drill the holes for the axels so they would have lined up better.

Well, DUH!  The materials are inexpensive (mostly recycled stuff I have laying around) and I have plenty of them.  Instead of making-do with the less-than-good body, just start over!  So now I'm happier with it.

I got the library book club book read in record time (Lady Tan's Circle of Women). 350+ pages in 6 days (while taking that puppet class and working at the museum, and socializing) It takes place in 15th century China, and as a great deal of it concerns the status of women, it talks a lot about feet binding.  When I worked in the historic clothing collection, I got to hold some of those exquisite tiny shoes - exquisite, until you think of the feet that had to be broken and bound to fit into them.  Pictures don't give you the feel for the actual size, so I made a little Kraft paper one, just so that the others could get an idea of how tiny they were.

And I have socialized.  Last Sunday was the baby shower at the museum - with a bunch of people, some of whom I haven't seen for awhile, and all of whom I like.  Monday I had brunch with my friend Diane who recently moved back to Tallahassee.  They've signed a contract on a house and it was fun to hear her be excited about her plans for it - I look forward to seeing it.

On the way home I stopped by the feed store, which always entails a bit of chatting.  When I got home I thought I could still get some reading and/or transcribing of the class done, but no.  Three years ago Rik bought the car trailer that we used to carry the Jeep on, and coming to get it has been on his "things to do" list - so of course he decided to do that Monday afternoon.   Having it gone isn't as bad as giving up the jeep (my heart still aches at the emptiness of the barn) but it's still strange not to see it out there any more.   I did have a feeling of competence when he and the friend who came with him were talking about the tires, which were obviously low after sitting there for years.  They talked about needing to go get a compressor and a generator when I said "wait a minute" and went and got my battery tire pump - which I try to keep charged.  It worked.

Another strange thing was when Rik told his friend to "show her what you have in the truck" and the guy reached in and then handed me a boa constrictor.  I don't know why he had one in the truck, but she was pretty and I held her why they got the trailer ready to go.  

Wednesday was another museum day, and another stop at the feed store for stuff that had come in.

Thursday there was an open house art day at the Senior Center - displays, music, samples from classes that are offered, and even a puppet show.

I didn't go.  I still had the book club meeting to go to Thursday afternoon, and I realized that between the baby shower, brunch, museum, and visits with the feed store friends - while all enjoyable, I was just "peopled out."  And I still had the museum on Friday.  The Center will have another one at some point.

But today has been wonderful (and solo).  It was actually a little chilly this morning, and I *finally* got a chance to light a fire, burn off one of the three huge piles of brush that I've been accumulating, and even started cutting up a downed tree.  Then I worked on the Leczy puppet.  It's amazing how not sweating or gasping for air can make you feel so good.

More of the same planned for tomorrow.

Yep, It's the Weather; Slightly Overextended

 It's obvious in my last two posts that my arse is dragging, and my mood with it.  I haven't even wanted to go to the museum.  Sometimes I wonder if I can keep it up.  There are some places where I have to hop over low fence, or step over a divider, and my legs feel like lead.  The walk from the front to the kitchen after cleaning leaves me winded.

But yesterday morning I opened the door - and it, for once, didn't hit me with a blast of warm moist air.  Temperature 76 (at 7:00 a.m.) but humidity only 85%, which may sound high to the rest of the country but was 15% lower than usual.  Before breakfast I grabbed my weed whacker and clippers and cleaned up a bit of the yard until the battery ran down.  After a quick breakfast I got the car washed.  Then the usual morning chores and down to the cottage.

Today was a museum day - not quite as dry, but still not bad, and I was singing as I worked and hopping those fences and trotting down to the kitchen.  I hope this reprieve lasts a bit longer.

Last post I mentioned that I was taking an online course from a puppet maker in London.  It was a lecture/demo for an hour a day.  The model puppet was this one - a rod-controlled tabletop puppet.

I wish I could download a video - it's actually quite complicated - with a flexible neck and body, moving tail, and movable legs and feet.  I'd like to get the "skeleton" (all the inside construction) done in the next few days while it's fresh in my head.  Things like carving the head, painting it, and adding the fur will take longer.  The instructor is going to give access to the class recording for two weeks; my plan is to go over the whole class again, take notes, and some screenshots of the pertinent parts.

Meanwhile my brain is still decided how I'm going to build the torso of the Leszy.  The legs and arms are pretty straightforward.  I'll probably give him a ribcage.  The problem is that heads, legs, arms, and chest have a nice bony understructure to build from.  The lower torso is a bit squishy, and I don't want something that just looks like a stuffed pillowcase (which actually can work - that's how Augra from The Dark Crystal was basically made).

Meanwhile, reading.  I just recently finished "Slewfoot" which is a nicely twisted novel.  The library book club book this month is "Lady Tan's Circle of Women."  I usually like to allow about 10 days per book.  The book club meets the last Thursday of the month, so I had some time.  I had been recommended a book with a Leszy as the central character and have been reading that as part of my dive into this folklore.  But last night I checked the calendar:  The end of the month is on a Wednesday, which means instead of having two weeks until the book club meeting, I have one.  Oops.  I did the math and I can make it if I read 50 pages a day (I usually allow for reading 30-35).

And I'm going to have a social life!  A friend who used to work at the museum is in town for a visit, and they're giving her a baby shower.  Then on Monday morning I have an eye appointment and I'm going out to brunch with a friend afterwards (Hi, Sis!).

So in the next 10 days or so I need to read a book, try to get the structure of the tabletop puppet done, review and write up the class, work on the Leszy (my plan was to have him roughed out by the end of the month so I have time to paint and style him, and maybe make myself a costume to go with it by Halloween - not that I have any plans but Who Knows).  Two social engagements, and a few days at the museum.

And if the weather holds I can even try to get the yard under control and maybe burn off a couple of those *huge* piles of brush and yard waste that have been collecting.

So much for having "nothing to do."