Puttering

I've been puttering a lot lately.  I know that I'm up and doing things (I have my phone on a belt, with the FIT app, which shows that I get a few miles of walking in every day).   But when I go to bed, I can't quite think of anything that I got done that day.
So today I'm posting a typical puttering Day in the Life of Ann.

I'm trying to get the last bit of yardwork done before it's too hot for me to give a damn.  The mornings are still decent until about 9, when the steam starts rising, so I've been doing weed whacking or trimming before breakfast.  The chickens and cats get fed first, of course.  Post weed whacking I grab a quick shower, change, and finally get my own tea and breakfast and head for my FaceBook addiction.  Ebaida and I are co-reading "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" so we discussed that a bit (and also talked about David Bowie's codpiece in Labyrinth - one must have variety).  

Stumbles was in my lap, and I noticed that her gunky ears needed cleaning so I got the cleaning solution and cotton balls and took care of that (fortunately she's pretty good about it).

I played Wordle and Connections and then on with my day, beginning as usual with the litterboxes and whatever dishes I didn't do last night.

A little extra kitchen time came next.  I haven't bought bread in years, preferring to make my brother's recipe for seedy bread (oatmeal, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, millet, flax seeds, sesame seeds - it's delicious).  I've been tossing the heels into a bag in the freezer.  The bag is getting a bit full, and salad season is coming up. so they got cut up, doused with olive oil and garlic, and toasted off in the oven for croutons.

I was doing that while I was making curry sauce.  Yesterday after work I went to lunch before hitting the grocery store (a wise idea so I don't buy the store out).  There is a little Thai and Sushi place that I like with pretty good lunch specials.  But there was a sign on the door that the day's special was had oxtails in masaman curry sauce.  I like oxtail; I had no idea what masaman curry sauce is but I'm game.  Let me tell you - it's frickin' awesome. Delicious.  Man oh man, this might have to become my regular.

Then I got my check.  The sign out front hadn't listed a price.  Oh. My. Goodness.  And a bit of ouch.  But now I had the flavor on my tongue - I have access to the internet, and I can cook.  Today on my morning laptop/FB time I looked at recipes.  I just so happen to be the sort of person who has red curry paste, fish sauce, and coconut milk on hand (also peanut butter).  I made up a pot of sauce and lo and behold - I think I've got it.

Sauce being made and left to get acquainted with itself, I turned my attention to a set of hand clippers that was sitting in a jar of vinegar on the counter.  A few weeks ago I had dropped a pair, lost them, and finally found them, now rusted, a few days ago.  They got an overnight soak in vinegar, then some scrubbing and oiling and they're good to go.  I had some others also getting a bit rusty, and as long as I had the jar of vinegar sitting there they also got a soaking, then their scrubbing and oiling.

All that cooking made me hungry so I made a big salad (with those croutons) and watched a little TV while I ate.  I was also watching the hummingbird feeding, and remembered that I needed to change the solution today, so I made that up and refilled the feeder.

I walked down to check the mail and found that my shipment of canned cat food had come in early.  The box weighs about 25 pounds and it's a long trudge up the driveway so I had to go get the car to pick it up.

At some point I made a cup of coffee and read for awhile.  I'm trying to get "Dragon Tattoo" finished.  It's interesting but not my cup of tea - too much lurid violence for my taste.  I also need to get cracking on my next book ("What Moves the Dead" by T. Kingfisher) because I've been waiting in line at the library since November and if I don't grab it now I have to get back in line.  It's supposed to be based on Poe's "Fall of the House of Usher" so I'll read that first.

Those wee fluffy chicks I got two months ago? 

 They've turned into chickens.  Time for them to go out to the coop.  This took several trips, because I was hoping to get more than one in a carrier at a time but it wasn't happening.

The carrier had to be washed after that, of course.  The cage that I had them in last month was still on the front porch, so I finally got that carried back to the barn and put away.

At this point, my leg was throbbing and burning and it was time to sit on an ice pack for a bit.  I'm lucky that normally I react to a yellow fly bite by with just a small welt, but I've overreacted this time.

It's been getting dosed with Neosporin and benedryl lotion, but ice also helps.  While I was sitting I flipped open the laptop again (because it's what I do) and I saw that Trump had been charged so I had to read various news reports for awhile.  I'm not breaking out the champagne yet - that will wait until he's either in jail or off the ballot (preferable both) but I'll pick some up next time I go shopping to be ready.  Fingers crossed.  I still feel weird about being a a country where half the people would vote for someone like that.

I got all the critters their dinner, and also my own (added chicken, sweet potato, and zucchini to that curry sauce - delicious and I have enough for a couple more dinners).

Then came the comedy of errors of trying to get the new chicks to go into the coop for the night.  I had high hopes that they would have followed Rock and Djali in but it didn't happen.  And if I caught one and stuck her on a perch, she'd hop down and run out again while I was chasing another.  I eventually succeeded.  With any luck, in a couple of days they'll get the idea and head inside on their own in the evening.

According to my FIT - all this puttering has yielded me 3.18 miles of walking today.  That puts me at 141 miles of my virtual walking challenge around Iceland (only 686 miles to go)

Today has been noted in the blog, so when I have those moments of wondering if I just sit around and twiddle my thumbs all day, I can realize that I'm simply puttering.

Now to bed to see if I can finish that book.

RIP Ella

 There's a hole in my heart that the light passes through

And the pattern it creates is the shape of the absence of you

Tim Minchin, "The Absence of You"

When I was 13 years old, I bought a book on falconry.  Not some adventure story or romance - this was a nuts-and-bolts training book.  I had a cousin in Illinois that I had never met - but he was training hawks and we corresponded.  It was a dream.

But we transferred overseas, and when I came back to the states I went to college and got married and did Life, and that dream went by the wayside.  

50 years after buying that book, I found myself in a walk-in cage with a red-tailed hawk.  I was working at the Tallahassee Museum by then, and to my great joy had been handling a couple of the owls.  We got this hawk from a rehabber (unfortunately common case of vehicle vs. hawk).  Most of the educators were busy with various programs, so I was asked to glove train her (she couldn't fly, but the goal was to be able to have her be able to be an education bird).

Perhaps the timing wasn't the best.  This was at the beginning of 2013.  My mother had just passed away, my father had fallen and broken his ribs so I was moving him to a nursing home and shutting down his apartment, and things were falling apart at work.  What I found out was that when you get in close proximity with an wild hawk (and she was a big girl) - you check everything else at the door.  You have to be calm and focused on the bird.  Being with her was the only time I could stop my brain from racing.  It got to be addictive - no matter how busy the day, somehow between teaching and then going across town to deal with Mom's affairs or to visit Dad, I would (often still in my work clothes) get over to spend some time with her.

 I grief bonded with her; she helped me get through that rough time in my life.  The rehabbers who took care of her after the accident had named her Cruella because of the strength of her grip.  That soon got shortened to Ella, and then nicknames of Bella or Bellisima, my beautiful one.

She was a lot of bird, and could be intimidating, with those glaring eyes, powerful beak, and even more powerful talons.

Of course I liked the ego boost of handling her in public.  I always found it amusing that when I had our little round fluffy barred owl out, I had to be careful of people getting too close, wanting selfies, asking if they could touch her.  Then I would put the owl up, get out Ella - and watch everyone back off.  We were on TV once for an advertisement for the museum, and in the video you can see that the host was carefully leaning away from her.

Ego aside - my favorite times were just the two of us.  I wanted to keep her used to being handled, to being carried on the glove, so I would just get her out and take a walk around when the museum wasn't crowded.  We would go along the boardwalk and just sit and look out at the lake.

I never kid myself that this adoration went two ways; she was a hawk.  I loved her, she tolerated me, and I accepted this relationship.

A big moment came for me in late 2014.  A commercial was going to be filmed about a constitutional amendment to protect the environment, with Jim Fowler as the spokesman.  Yes - from Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.  I loved that show as a kid (probably caused my love of nature).  He wanted to be able to hold a hawk while filming, and at the time I was Ella's only handler, so I got to take her to the filming and spend time with Jim.

Can't resist a random picture here.  Although she didn't have a mate, she would sometimes lay eggs in the spring - and when her hormones were up, we couldn't handle her for about 6 weeks.  I couldn't resist this shot of her on the nest.  She was making it clear that I should back off - but I can't help but think that she looks like an angry Muppet.

Alas, good things come to an end.  Our education director was getting increasingly difficult to work with - I put up with it because I liked working with the animals and doing educational programs.  But at one point she decided that we needed to change the protocols on how Ella was handled (side note - she had never handled her, or even spent any time with her).  I didn't think they would work (they might for some birds, but not her).  When I asked if we could talk about it (as I was Ella's trainer and primary handler) she made it clear that she didn't have to discuss her decisions with mere staff.  I handed in my resignation from the education department.

I then pissed her off by promptly volunteering in the animal department.  Being vindictive, she stated that under no circumstances was I to be allowed to handle the birds.  I missed it of course, but even cleaning their habitats I could visit with them. After this director was "invited" to leave the museum, the woman who took her place allowed me to start handling the birds again (it's good for them to be handled, and she doesn't always have enough people to do it).  The problem was that Ella was developing some health issues.  Every time I was prepared to meet with the new director and get re-certified - something would go wrong.  She developed fatty liver syndrome.  After that cleared up, she had a prolapse and needed surgery.  Then she developed bumble foot.  When that finally was cleared up, it was decided that she didn't need the stress of being an education bird, and a year ago she was released into our large aviary.

I was happy for her.  Plenty of room, no one to bother her; this spring she was even "keeping company" and piling up sticks with one of the other hawks.  I missed handling her, of course, but I enjoyed seeing her finally living her best life.  After we do the morning cleanings, we have to walk past the aviaries (or often even go in to clean them as well) and I would always look for her, say hello to my beautiful Bellisima, and smile.  I was simply happy to see her.

This past Tuesday I was cleaning in there, and something was wrong.  She was on the ground (not unusual) but was walking slowly and unevenly.  I alerted Suzie.  She brought Ella to the kitchen.  She was weak, and had lost a lot of weight.  Since then, Suzie has been tube feeding her, or hand feeding chunks of meat, which Ella couldn't  always keep down.

Ella died this morning.

I'm gutted.  And I desperately wish I had something more than a pillow to cry into, that there were arms to hold me.  Bob was proud of me for being able to train her.  On our anniversary after I started with her, I opened a gift from him to find a beautiful green leather falconer's glove.  He understood.

I'll miss her.  I'll very much miss that feeling of happiness just walking past the  aviary and seeing her there.  Goodbye, my lovely.

Honda Adventures

 Last post I mentioned that I had an appointment to get my hubcaps replaced.  It got a little . . . strange.  I was trying very hard not to roll my eyes, or use my grown-up voice and say "repeat after me."

To repeat the back story - when I found that I had two missing hubcaps, and that the third wasn't on properly, I remembered that I had the tires rotated during routine maintenance - for which they would have to remove and replace the hubcaps.

I pulled up and the guy came out to check me in.  I pointed out the hubcap that I had zip tied on so it also wouldn't have fallen off like the other two.  He looked at his paperwork and said he thought they were replacing all four hubcaps.  OK.

I'm in the waiting room, and a little while later he comes in to explain that they were actually only going to replace the two missing ones, and wanted to be sure I was all right with that.  I was - there's nothing wrong with the other two.  But I added - and also replace the third one I pointed out.  He gave me a blank look.  "We're only replacing two of them."  I said yes, but the third one had to be taken off and installed properly.

I could tell that my words were not even going in one ear and out the other - they were simply bouncing off (this was the same guy that I had pointed out my zip-tied repair job to).

A short time later he comes to get me because they're finished.  I look - and my third hubcap is still zip-tied on.  I point this out.  He looks confused.  I say that it needs to be taken off and put on properly.  He leaves for a minute and comes back with someone else - who proceeds to feel around the hubcap to see if it's loose.  I pull out my phone because fortunately I took a video of me running my hand under the hubcap before I took a mallet to it to try to snap it into place and put on the zip ties to keep it there (because the clips weren't on the holding wires.

Then I started to do whatever the little-old-lady version of mansplaining is (perhaps gransplaining?)  I showed them that the valve stem was in a position where the hubcap would make it difficult to attach an air hose.  I carefully pointed out the notch in the hubcap and (I may have been using a bit of my grown-up voice by then) and said it was there for the valve stem so that the hubcap wouldn't have to be removed to put air in the tire.

They both still looked confused but said they would go ask - and back to the waiting room I went.  Thank goodness, pretty soon Bruce came in (the guy I had been talking to on the phone) and apparently he figured it out and the hubcap had been installed properly.

I've been going to this Honda place for some 25 years without a problem.  Hope they didn't screw up anything else (it was an oil and filter change - and everything seems to be working)

It may not be the shop's fault.  I was talking to Christy - between her and Rik, they're the type who knows everybody - and she said that a lot of places, Honda included, are cutting costs by firing their senior techs and hiring new inexperienced ones at a much lower rate.  Gotta say - that's a crappy way to do business.

But at least I got my hubcaps.

Ramblings

 Time for another random post.

Things have settled down from the storm, except in the areas hardest hit.  Here's the storm path.  The little red squiggle is me.

It's the area where the two converged that really got hit hard.  And a couple of hundred thousand people were without power.  Mine was out for only 30 hours, which in my mind is no big deal.  But even by that afternoon, I was reminded of Lenin's statement that "Every society is three meals away from chaos."
Most restaurants were closed. Most grocery stores were closed.  And Facebook was loaded with people panicking because they had no food!

This boggles my mind.  Not everyone is like Bob who could have survived WWIII and the zombie apocalypse combined (with maybe an alien invasion), but I can't imagine not having an emergency stash.  The panic grew bigger the next day as people believed that anything in the fridge has to be tossed after 24 hours.  I don't get it - the grocery stores are filled with aisle after aisle of shelf-stable food, cans, and pouches.  And you can eat it straight out of the can if necessary.  For about $30 you can get a small camp stove.  I don't understand a willingness to be helpless about the basics when it's neither difficult nor expensive to lay in a modest stash.  Sigh.

I'm a bit more prepared now.  I got my butane camp stove.  I've got three cases of bottled water because the distribution center was asking for people to come get it so they didn't have to pack it up again (I also picked up a case of MRE's and a big tarp.)

After all that settled down, and  had gone to the museum 5 days in a row (3 because of the storm then my regular two days - by which time we had power and water) I was sort of at loose ends and just puttered around.  A couple of smaller storms came through (which made me feel bad for the people trying to do recovery work). I just couldn't focus.  Friday I finished the book I was on (a reread of "The Last Unicorn.") and I knew there was a book that Ebaida wanted to co-read so I didn't want to start anything new, so my bedtime reading was to reread a couple of chapters of the Pratchett parody of "Phantom of the Opera."  Saturday I was still being aimless, so screw it - laid on the couch and read the entire book.  Amazing how good that felt.

I still have a bit of work to do on the bedroom ceiling, which I've ignored for the last two weeks (although I can be excused for tornado week).  I think it's because when I finish that, I need to move a bookshelf and shampoo the carpet because pulling all that stuff down made a mess.  So finishing one job puts another one on the things-to-do list.   Same goes for the chicks.  They're almost big enough to go out in the coop (knock wood - Rock and Djali have been out there for three weeks with no problems).  But when I move them I'll have to do a major scrubbing of the back deck.  Finishing one job just creates another.

One of those rainy days I did have a wave of deep loneliness.  A gray and rainy afternoon, perfect for a nap.  I found myself remembering Naps of the Past.

The problem with naps is that sometimes you lie down "for a few minutes" and suddenly it's 3-4 hours later when you wake up.  So we would have an afternoon cup of coffee, then take a nap, and in an hour or so the coffee would kick in and we'd wake up.

However, when two people who are fond of each other go to bed, sometimes sleep isn't the first thing that happens.  So the afternoon coffee would become a prelude to such activities.  I'd ask Bob is he wanted some coffee, and he would waggle his eyebrows lasciviously and ask "are you offering coffee, or [cue the Barry White voice here] Coffee?"  And the naps would be defined as little-n naps, or Capital-N Naps.  These days it's just a lower case coffee and nap, and that makes me sad.

There was a mystery last week.  I noticed something different about my car.

A distinct lack of hubcaps on the passenger side.  At first, naive me, thought "I'll just go to Honda and have them put on some new ones."  Fortunately I was talking to Gill at the time, who warned me that brand-specific hubcaps are ridiculously expensive.  I checked, and she's right - like $150 each.  I'm not that attached to the Honda logo - for that much, I'll go to AutoZone and pick up a 4-pack of generic ones for $50.  But I got to wondering why I would suddenly lose hubcaps (I never have before in my life).  And I remembered when I had my oil changed about three weeks ago they had also rotated the tires.  I checked the other two hubcaps - one is OK, but the other was fastened only about a third of the way around, and positioned so that the air valve was covered.

So, armed with evidence that at least one of the hubcaps was put on improperly, I've been having some phone exchanges with the shop manager - with a bit of "let me check the video and get back to you" which didn't happen.  But I cut him some slack - because of the tornadoes, they've been slammed with damaged cards.  The end result is that we're being friendly with each other - and I'm getting my new hubcaps for free.

But my real takeaway from this was my attitude of "well, if I can't get them to make good, I'll go buy a set and put them on."  Since when did I become the person who would just replace her own hubcaps?  (the answer - since March 30, 2020)

Impromptu quick fix.  For years now there's been a brown stain, 6-8 inches across, on the ceiling of the den.  Maybe an old water leak.  Last night, around 11 p.m., I suddenly decided that I was tired of it.  I still had the ladder in the bedroom, and a bottle of white craft paint, so now the stain is gone (I can tell where the white doesn't quite match, but it doesn't draw the eye).  Years of it bugging me, and 15 minutes to paint it (including getting the ladder) but that's how things go.

Finally, some sewing.  I have a few friends who are in the SCA, and once a month they get together to play medieval and have invited me to play with them.  I've gone once, but felt out of place in my civvies.  I don't think I'll get active in the group, but it might be fun to hang out once in awhile, so I got some linen for a dress.  Thing is, medieval clothing isn't designed the same way as modern, so I'm drafting my own pattern.  Fitting something on yourself isn't easy.  This had my mind wandering to any number of Sewing Helpful Hints which often include "get your sewing buddy . . ."  Where?  Check one out of the library?  Where is this mythical creature?  I had one once - in the 70s, when a friend and I were in a belly dance troupe and we'd get together to make costumes.

I tried to create the sewing buddy thing in the 80s when Bob and I were in the SCA group, another place where people need costumes (and before the internet and easy mail order).  My plan was to have people over, and I would go over the basics of cutting out and sewing, and then we would cut and sew together.  Alas, what often happened is that everyone else would end up wandering into the living room to chat and visit, and I'd be in the back sewing by myself, with someone occasionally coming back to see if I was ready to start on theirs (which they couldn't start on their own because they hadn't paid attention when I explained how to cut it out).  And I brought it all to a screeching halt when people would just drop by, leave an armload of fabric, and ask if I could have a costume done by the weekend.

Bob was fairly tolerant of being asked to help pin me in from time to time, although very early on I learned not to ask him if a hem length looked all right (in his defense I will admit that I had good-looking legs).  But, like so many things now (like hubcaps and ceiling repairs and taking naps) I'm doing OK flying solo.

And I think that's enough rambling for now.

Strolling with a Turtle

 Sometimes (OK, often) I really love the people I work with.

After we finish making the animal diets, the volunteers pile feed buckets onto a wagon and go to feed the animals closer to the kitchen area.  We are followed shortly thereafter by a keeper or two with more food in the golf cart to take to the far side.

Today, as we were heading towards the deer habitat, one of my co-workers suddenly gasped and said "Look - a softshell!"  Sure enough, there was a large soft-shelled turtle coming out of the woods.  We were a little concerned; they are strictly aquatic turtles and she was at least 100 yards from any water.  But she seemed unconcerned as she came down to the path and started walking at a determined pace.  In a few moments we heard the golf cart come up behind us, and they also stopped to watch her.

So there we are, five people (who all get to have their lunch as soon as the animal food is delivered)  and a golf cart, slowly following this turtle down the path.

In theory, we had options.  We could have moved her off the path ("she" because a soft-shelled turtle that far from water, on higher ground, was probably laying her eggs).  Or gone around her.  But moving her would have been harassing her.  And we didn't want to leave her, because the museum is open now, and we have guests - and we didn't want random guests bothering her.  And we also didn't want anyone discovering that, while not as bad as a snapping turtle, soft shelled turtles have a helluva bite.

So we all just strolled down the path, five people, a golf cart, and a turtle. She was actually walking much faster than you would think a turtle would, and obviously knew where she was going.  In a few minutes she turned off the path and bulldozed her way down the hill to a holding pond - and we could head off to our lunches.

Unexpected Storm

 Well, Tallahassee took a shellacking this week.

For a few days, there had been "possible severe weather" warnings posted.  This is pretty much common for the time period of May through November.  It was a little different this time.

For me, it started at about 6:45 Thursday morning.  Normally on the mornings that I don't go to work I wake up somewhere between 7:30 and 8:00, so I was really annoyed when my phone alert went off at 6:45.  I figured it was an Amber alert and went back to sleep.  Almost - because it went off again 5 minutes later.  It was a severe weather warning.  I looked out the window - early dawn, clear, no clouds, no breeze.  So I snuggled back down again.  Third alert.  This time I swore, and, dammit, I was awake by then so might as well get up.  I went to the bathroom, did my business, washed my hands, reached for the toothbrush - and all hell broke loose.  I hightailed it to the hallway and hunkered there for a very frightening half hour (although the worst was over in about 15 minutes).  The roaring was deafening, and I could see the trees whipping around.

Here's a screen shot of the radar.  You can see that there is no band of gradually worsening weather.  This one came through like a sledge hammer, moving at 60+ miles per hour.

When it was over, I ventured outside.  For me, everything was fine - no trees down, no damage, just the normal amount of yard trash.  My power was out, of course, but I figured it would be back in a few hours.  Then I started checking my phone and seeing pictures.  My God.

I'm not even going to use words.  Here's a link to a drone video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jlDk791JCL4

The opening shots make me sad - that's the circus I went to three weeks ago.

I couldn't go anywhere Friday - too many downed trees and power lines in the roads.  But today I could make it in to go help out at the museum, because it got seriously trashed and most of it was without power or water - which makes taking care of the 100 or so animals problematical.  Fortunately there was one side (the farthest from the animal kitchen, of course) that had water, so we just did a lot of hauling.  And rather than trying to haul enough water back to the kitchen to wash the dozens of dishes needed for feeding, we just loaded them up and took them to the hose - which happened to be right beside the pig pen.  We set up a washing station and used the roof of their shelter for a drying rack.  The pigs were amused and kept up a running commentary.

Those "few" hours I thought I would be without power?  It was 30 hours.  Not complaining - thousands of people are still without.  And it gave me some practice for the upcoming storm season, pointing out a few weak spot.]

#1:  Water.  I don't mind living without power; If you keep the freezer and fridge doors closed as much as possible, they're good for a day for the fridge, two for the freezer.  If it's going to be more than that, I move the stuff to ice chests.  I don't keep that much perishable food around anyway.  But water - that's another story.  I keep a supply of bottled water on hand for drinking, and even sponging off myself, but for cleaning up dishes and hand washing laundry and that all-important flushing - one needs water.  This is the first time I've gone more than a few hours without power without having warning (hurricanes give you a week or more warning, so you have time to lay in the water supply).  I did toss my storage jugs into the car and filled them at the museum.  But my lesson from this?  Keep at least a half-dozen of the jugs in the barn filled - enough for a few days of flushing.

#2:  Power.  When I called Mike to tell him about the storm, he said I should be careful of my phone battery.  I said I was fine, because I have my big battery, useful for things like inflating car tires or jumping the car, but it can also be used as a charging station.

That confidence was dashed.  I had charged it to carry in the car when we went to Universal Studios last December.  You know what can happen in 5 months?  The power can leak down.  Fortunately, I have a small battery pack that I use for my little battery powered spinning wheel, and there was enough juice to top off the phone with that.  But now "check the battery charger" will be put on a standard rotation.

#3, Cooking.  I got by for my 30 hours with sandwiches and cereal (needed to drink as much milk before it went warm anyway).  I do have a small camp stove that sits on squat propane bottle - but I was hesitant to break it out because once you breach the propane bottle it leaks out (not supposed to, but it does).  And I thought with my luck that I would set it up, make a cup of tea, and then get my power back and there's a waste of a propane bottle.  So no tea for two days. (I had planned on setting it up when I got home today to cook some of the food in the fridge, but amazingly, I had power).   This afternoon I ordered a small butane camp stove.  

This is a more convenient size.  I have the little one that will hold a teakettle or a small pan, and the really big one that goes on one of the large propane tanks and can hold a big pot, but this one can take a tea kettle or 10" skillet or pan.

So that's my three takeaways from this adventure.  Hopefully now I'm a bit more prepared for the upcoming storm season.

And now to step outside to see if I can see the Northern Lights (a freak system is sending them down this far) and off to bed.  Likely back to the museum tomorrow as they never got the power on today. 

Ceiling, Tree Top, and Wolf Pup

 Wow.  It's been almost two weeks.  I'd better write something so that 2025 self doesn't wonder what happened.

Most of my writing for the last four years has been because there's something I need to get out.  But so far in 2024 I've felt oddly calm.  Yes, I miss Bob desperately.  Yes. it hurts.  Yes, I'm tired of having to take care of everything myself.  Yes, I'm lonely.  But somehow I seem to have internalized it, accepting it instead of fighting it, at least for the last few months.  Somehow laying claim to the barn seems to be involved.  I definitely have been taking care of things since then.  I've reinforced the chicken coop (fingers crossed - the chickens Rock and Djali have been in there for a week now).  I even figured out how to shim up the door jamb so that the door closes all the way.  If all goes well, the new chicks who are on the back deck, and growing fast, will also move out there.

But on the subject of raccoons (because that's what broke into the chicken yard last year) Miss Sassy hasn't made an appearance yet.  I have to admit that I had gotten fond of her.

So - what's happened in two weeks?  I did remember to take at least one evening to head far enough away from the house to not see the security light and just sit with the fireflies for awhile. It's such a magical thing to do, just sit quietly in the night, listening to the spring peepers and the wind in the treetops and watching the dancing twinkling lights.  But I also had to admit to myself that I no longer feel the deep relaxation.  Without Bob there, part of me stays on the alert for any sound that might indicate a bear or coyote (or something really frightening - the footstep of a human being).  But I must have the fireflies.

A week ago Sunday I took time off from The Project (coming in a moment) to go to listen to Broadway songs.   A group of teenagers involved in youth theatre were doing an evening of singing at the community center, only a mile or so from me, as a fundraiser.  It sounded like fun, it was close, and I like to encourage such things. Some of those kids had amazing voices.  I was rather disappointed at the turnout, however; I think I was the only person there who wasn't a friend or family member of one of the singers.  I would have liked to have seen some more community support.

Yesterday I did the Tree to Tree ropes course yet again (that makes 5 times now).  At the volunteer party a couple of weeks ago, one of the women said her birthday was coming up and she wanted to do something different; Tree to Tree was suggested.  Every time I do this course, protective amnesia kicks in, and I forget just how hard it is.  It didn't help that the temperature has recently gone up 10 degrees, so it was a bit sweaty.  But it's still fun.

The Project:  After almost four years, I finally repaired the bedroom ceiling. Rob kept saying that he and Don could come up sometime to help me; Jeff said that on one of his trips he could come help, and somehow time kept going by.  Then I kept waiting for the day that I would wake up and know how to do it.  I would study it from time to time, and no inspiration hit.

The big thing that stopped me was not so much the hole, as the panel next to it.

It's sagging because the drywall underneath it had collapsed and was lying on it.  

I would keep trying to think how to reinforce that panel, or maybe somehow drag the chunks of drywall out, but there was nothing then to re-attach the panel.  I finally did the only thing possible: demolished that one too.

 

Then I cut and screwed in some supporting bars to have something to attach the panels to.  Then came the really fun part - trying to hold a 41 square inch panel over my head while I screwed it into place.  It got ugly.  If swearing threatened to devolve into tears I would take a break.  I was literally using my head to hold them up until I could get a couple of screws in.

It's far from perfect.  I'm disappointed, because I would have liked to be proud of it.  They don't line up just right (because it's hard to see the big picture when you're holding something on your head) and despite the fact that I was replacing two 41 square inch panels with two other 41 square inch panels, one ended up with almost an inch gap on one side.  That pisses me off.  When I'm through being pissed off, which might take another week, I'll cut a narrow strip of wood, cover it with some leftover wallpaper, and fill the gap to be less noticeable. And a bit more painting.  So it's not great, but it's not as bad as that damned hole.  And I don't plan on anyone else being in my bedroom anyway.

The added bonus is that I can sleep in my bedroom on rainy nights.  Because there was only the roof decking overhead, anytime it rained it sounded like it was dripping in the bedroom.  Being as there has been several times that has actually happened, I'd find myself getting up frequently to check it, and finally just sleeping on the couch.  But now that I've added insulation and the panels, it just sounds like rain on the roof instead of in the bedroom.

Of course, it never occurred to me in those intervening years that I could have gone ahead and put up insulation to solve the acoustic problem.  Hindsight is such a lovely thing.

But now I've been having project hangover for a few days.  It's a common thing; there is a burst of energy and I dive in and get something done - and then spend a few days doing basically diddly squat, like I can't get my act together.  The summer heat showing up hasn't helped.  But I have faith that the doldrums will pass.  

Closing with the wonderful news.  We have red wolves at the museum.  They are incredibly endangered - around 250 of them in captivity, and 18 or so in a controlled "wild" environment.  The last time one of the wolves got pregnant, she had heart failure when she went into labor and we lost her and the pups (the same thing happened in another facility the same year - the gene pool is so small that there are problems).  But 10 days ago one of our females had her first litter.  Only two pups - a boy and a girl - but they are fine, fat, healthy little miracles.