The Cat Story- finally!

Innocent, cute farm kitty.

Well! After snapping some pictures of a benign looking cat at my sister's, this family history of cat lore, seems to not be so scary. However, the cat above did scare Gma just by being around the porch when she went to visit once, and it startled her so badly that she fell. She was lucky to not have broken her hip!

But I got the cat story out of the bag for all posterity, because many of us in the fam had it wrong.
While trying to get some shots of this useful, mouse catching cat above, I did encounter something scary on the farm/ranch.:

These gals ARE truly scary.

Beady, blank look in the eyes. And one mean peck.

As I snapped the pics of the innocent tabby,

these stealthy, menacing looking chicks

quietly

 walked up to me and before I knew it,
were with in an inch from pecking my feet and legs.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How do you get them outta the way anyway? I shoo-ed them and screamed, then chased.
But they are curious and kept coming back after I had composed myself!

I promised to tell about the origins of why CATS make certain family members squimish- which I always thought originated from Padre's mother;

NOT talk about these egg laying chickens!

So!
Without any more delay I will relay the investigating and interviewing
process to get to the bottom of this CAT
deal we have.

Asking my Gma to tell me about the time that the "cat jumped on her head", she said: "Oh, Mandy, that didn't happen to me. It happened to my sister."

You're kiddin'? I said astonished. All this time I thought it was you who had a cat jump on your head when someone opened a door, or something
to that effect.

(come to find out, many of the other cousins thought the same thing.)

"No, that was Aunt Betty and she has the details that I can't remember.
 you'll have to call her."
It seemed sort of anti-climatic with all the hullabaloo surrounding
the story of how it all began!

One phone call to soutern Utah later -I had the gruesome details and it became
climatic again.

It had been a warm evening in the small town of Preston, Idaho. Neighborhood kids were out playing night games.
In the dark night,
Aunt Betty went to hide and as she passed under a high pitched roof onto a porch bearing a small light,
a boy, perched atop this roof, threw a cat onto her back.

Yes, THREW.
As you can imagine, the cat was as equally horrified as Betty, and thus, sunk its claws into her back so it could climb to the top of her head, where it assessed the situation,
then lowered itself

ONTO her face where it sunk its claws in once last time in an effort to jump
off her face
 to safety.

(my reaction inside upon hearing the story)
Aunty Betty, who was 7 or 8 ,went on to explain that she fell to the ground after this horrific experience, doesn't even remember the little shister's name who threw the cat,
and that  shortly afterward, she got up and ran home where they
tended to all of the wounds
on her body.

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The sight and story obviously scared her 'lil sis, and
 scaredy cat syndrome was born.

"After that," Aunt Betty said in a matter of fact tone, "I didn't care much
for cats."

I don't blame you, Aunt Betty!
I don't think many cat lovers would blame you either!

So her little sister, with this monstrously mean prank in her brain; a fear implanted so deep, caused us to think it was heriditary;
had
to carry this fear
around
for a good 65 to 70 years now. 

For Padre, it's really just the fact that they are bothersome when they get in
your garden, sit on your flowers,
poop in the dirt where you weed the garden and flowers
and otherwise just get on Padre's nerves.

He shudders at the thought of their hair possibly getting into food,
a kid's mouth or collecting somewhere that he is.

To his great fortune,

There is now a law  that citizens can be fined here in I.F.
if
their tabbies cause destruction
to your yard.

It's new this year.

So, now cats will have to go against their instincts
to roam- like their ancestors
in Africa
and
settle on being house cats.

One last thing- little kittens were NOT released during Lil Sis'
wedding.

Summer Scents

This honeysuckle plant and clematis are a huge part of my

summertime memories.

They are in full bloom, the hummingbirds are visiting the honeysuckles

and I am opening my window

in the evenings.

The Idaho breeze brings the mixture of the two flowers floating into the house

and my bedroom.

Bringing the familiar smells and nostalgia of

times gone by.

I love creating new ones with

the grandkids.

Padre, as I expected, took my trellis idea and really ran with it.

I initially wanted a trellis for pumpkins and

possibly squash.

He has gone above and beyond.

I will post pics when he puts the netting on the trellises.

This garden better turn out, or else!

Diet Coke Garden

This year's garden is planted again; with the naive and daring belief that

something will come of it.

Thanks to, James, at Town and Country, and their little climate tested packets of seeds, I was able to

buy the usual:

radishes
onions (walla walla and a couple rows of Bunching Tokyo Long Whites)
Carrots (Danvers)
Pumpkins (Autumn Gold)
Squash
Red potatoes
and
Peas

I was also able to surmise the veggies that will do best in the shade our garden is doomed for.  Unless we take out one of the remaining, large branches from the tree that got hit earlier by the snow fall that took down other branches. Just not the one that would give sun to the garden.

So here is the list:

Rutabaga
Early Wonder Beets
Butter Crunch Lettuce
and
Lettuce- Salad Bowl variety

Tickled that the garden was tilled by Little brother, and that I was planning on Padre building a couple of trellis' to make the pumpkins and peas grow vertical, I went confidently outside with a Diet Coke and my seed packets in a flat carboard box.

I put in the radishes. Followed by the onions.

Painstakingly I followed the rules by taking in account of the timing (relative in Idaho), depth, distance of the seeds for a row and the distance between rows. "Digging" 1/8 inch 'holes' is a pain. One, because a breeze could pick up and blow that much dirt off and your seeds away. Two; it could rain. And if it rains too hard- like it did on Saturday- it could pack down the earth too much where they can't grow or they just get swept away by a Tsunami in the garden.

There were probably birds sitting on a telephone wire doing the
exact calculations ,of depth and distance,
so they could eat the seeds.

But before any of those travesties could occur, I planted the carrots. I marked them with sticks, tied twine around each to keep kids out, left walking room in between the diff. varieties- to make for easy weeding and I even made a main walk way lined with a flat of discount petunias in
Double Pink Rose Madness.
I like the
Madness part.

Then I had to take a break. Clouds that had been looming were finally starting to sprinkle and I didn't want my packets to get wet. Trying to carry a hoe, small shovel, gloves and balance the cardboardbox with my opened Diet Coke, I stumbled over the hose in my turquoise rubber gardening clogs.

The pop spilled into the box. Frantically, I dropped everything except the box and started throwing packets out. 

However, a few packets absorbed 

Diet Coke.

Town and Country has probably not tested this along side Idaho climate in their horticulture labs.
So that makes me a first and a soon to be expert in
that department.

'Lettuce' bawl into our salad bowls anyway, shall we?

Each wet packet had to be emptied onto a paper plate,

dried and put in new envelopes.

Later, I planted the Diet Coke dipped seeds into the rest of the garden.

J. let that cat out of the bag later when Padre asked why I put all the seeds in new envelopes.

Padre could only shake his head.

And this was before Madre made the comment that it took a lot of 'faith' to try and grow a garden. She was eluding to the weather and futile efforts of previous years. But if you look at the size of the seeds...

(some of the seeds got dropped in my bed so I am expecting something to sprout in the coming week.

If they don't come in a week- it's into the wash they go. Not willing to experiment by keeping the same sheets for a few months.)

It kinda does feel quite gutsy to try such a feat as growing a garden.

 Especially when you can just run to the store and buy some red potatoes. Who eats Rutabaga?

I don't.

But we are gonna cause that is what grows in our garden.
R-u-t-a-b-a-g-a.

Now, we will have to not only hope that little slivers of seeds will erupt from the ground and grow, but do so after a bath

in

Diet Coke.

 At this point the garden should be an "experiment".

Lessens the internal/emotional pain.  

But I have to keep a positive attitude because Padre is already on trellis' that involve rebar, electrical conduit poles and corners (corner back brackets) that have to do with plumbing material or maybe buidling buildings. Oh, and 3/8 inch nylon string that apparently you can get at Home Depot.

And just a quick tip- 1/2 inch rebar will FIT in 1/2 inch conduit. Small lesson learned. They are measured differently. One on the inside- the other on the outside. So don't fall for the  person at the steel place telling you that you need 3/8 inch rebar to fit in the conduit. (the rebar comes in 20 foot poles.)

Oh, and once you have your trellis and a Squash tree you can plant rutabaga or Tyhee hybrid Spinach at its base; maximizing your garden space.

Stay tuned on the Trellis making. It's turning into a Memorial Day project for Padre. And I am really wondering if it will give more light to the plants, keep bugs off and be an overall awesome idea I pulled from someone else's ideas from Google and Youtube!

Thanks, John, from: growingyourgreens.com for youtube interviewing Tyler, from Future Farms; (who tells about growing pumpkins, vertically.) a guy who farms in his back yard as a side job and does farmer's markets somewhere in California. Which is key. California= SUN.

Side note: I will include measurement sizes of the electrical conduit, rebar, and where to find the netting, pricing and whatever when Padre shows me the extent of all his efforts.(which at the posting of this story- it is now passed Mem. Day and into a weekend and Padre is still working on my Squash Trellis and the trellis for my peas. He's slow because of everything on his plate.

I Got Sunshine on Mem. Day

It hailed yesterday.

Padre commented that if we could just get some sunshine now, which his phone told him we would, then our garden would just explode.

Gloomy clouds all around the darkness I broke out:

"I got sunshy---unnn

on a

clowwwwdy day"

Padre said: "Ya know, that reminds me of being in Vietnam."

I paused and said: "hmm."

Wasn't what I expected.

"Yeh, during all that chaos there would be those motown songs playing. And every morning,

'White' his friend who went by his last name

but who was actually black

would always play

James Brown's

I Feel Good

every morning." Even if he was still asleep his alarm would go off, he'd sleep turn it off and turn on Jame's song.

Can you imagine? Sleeping in tents like they were and dragged outta sleep by that song?

I bet Padre felt like this when he got up.

 Some guys would try to create 'hip'

ambiance

Padre said.

By hanging silk that the locals sold them,

they would put hang them and play those songs

to drown out the war.

Hopefully, Padre is right, and today's sunshine will dry out the drowned garden

and we'll see some explosion of veggies.

Thanks, Vets, Family and Friends today and every day!

Rockwell's Baseball Players

Norman Rockwell could always capture the essence of young boys playing ball,

(Rockwell's painting of some boys convincing workers to not take out their ball field. The conversation meaningfully taking place at 'Home Plate'- the ownership of the land is obvious; The rag tag boys!)

tattered shoes with blown out pants around the knee area;

belts holding up pants that were most likely an older brothers hand-me-downs that were too big.

(SAFE!!!! E.Stealin' home)


So there Rockwell's boy would be; a ruffled, cinched pant top, shirt half tucked in and a face that was exactly depicted from a real model. With added smudges of dirt,

(L. fielding)

a bruised eye, puffy lip, freckles and most often a lanky red head would be there- on the canvas- to stop time and create nastalgia for generations to come.

Watching boys play baseball always makes me think of Norman and I hope to "catch" that scene he would have caught with his paint brush.

(Number 10 is using his scout belt to hold those big pants up. Classic. And totally endearing to his mother)

These photos of mine are just attempts of Rockwell's work. I Would rather Padre come and take them. As I am not willing to learn about aperture at the moment. And I cannot paint. So here it is in its imperfection.

But my heart tries to grasp those moments that fly by quick as a wink and before you know it- they are not boys anymore.

Boys that I have grown to love as they have grown with each season of the next sport in their lives.

And finally...

FATHER & SON- how much more American can this get?? And the smile on S's face, mirroring his Dad's pride- timeless. Wish Rockwell could come to these games and paint for me.

3 Gens 1 Roof

For years I have loved the mag; This Old House.

The latest edition had an article that hit home- the secrets to three generations living under one roof, happily.

First, I thought I should have gotten on that article submission cause I know some tips, or  at least some comical stories, that would entertain readers that happen in a house with that many generations living in it.

But the magazine focuses on renovations. So I shouldn't have been surprised when I opened up to the article's page and there was a smiling family on  big, spacious porch.

It turns out their secret was to move and then renovate an old, house; essentially making it new. Which is what I am convinced the mag should be called. This NEW House. It was old but now it's NEW.

It throws in some Dr. Phil-ish adages about ways to test "family dynamics" by living together and such. How several individuals ranging in age AND disposition and the discussions and decisions that need to be made when renovating are enormous.

-Never mind that two of the individuals have degrees in architecture and interior design. The Patriach, Donald, said they took a "casual organic approach" to the "transition".

Organic?

The only organic parts my fam has to put up with are my plants.

Donald was referring to not putting everything "on paper" and taking their time with making their dream vacation home, where each was in it only 1/3 and that made it easier to cope with eachother; and keeping the "old bones" of the houses rather than running a bulldozer over it and starting from scratch.

So, for us, minus degrees and firms based in architecture ,we have kept our original OLD HOUSE.

Instead of renovations, we have gotten rid of things that aren't necessary.

For example: More than 3 pairs of shoes.

1. Closet space can go a long way for storing all your stuff without the hassle of too many shoes or clothes to go into it.

2. A constant state of re-arranging what you've got: this means that as you live with the 3 different gens for some time you start to calculate ways that all your stuff can better fit in the small space you still have to work with. And this makes for trips to Wal-Mart for plastic containers.

3.Instead of knocking out a wall and adding on the kitchen  so it would be bigger, we just implement a "standing room only" policy for big get togethers. So far it seems to have worked out- if you get to the table first and land a chair, or opt to eat in shifts.

There are more tips, but I'm saving them for when the magazine calls and ask me to do a free lance article on my inside knowledge on the subject.

In all honestly, looking at the spaciousness that Donald and his wife, his parents and the 2 grandchildren had to move about ,was making me slightly jealous. But it bordered on disgusting when I found out that they only did this gig part time- as it was a "summer home" in a popular vacation/resort area and not a necessary year round deal.

Of course their happy!

Thankfully the magazine redeened itself for me by including a great article on herb growing; which I can still do in my old house, and thus keep looking forward to future editions of the magazine.

The Chair

She bloomed! I have to randomly include my plants, like I do my kids because I am so proud of them for living!

So I promised to share the story of the chair. As you know we had a wedding so the fact that Madre
went to great lengths to get THE Chair for an early Father's Day gift, was anything short of miraculous.

First off, we had a chair. It is green and deceptively comfortable looking. It's not. In fact they could replace waterboarding with this chair. Sit a terrorist in it for a day and they'd be crying and unloading all sorts of information.

The reason for this originates in construction; although cute- it is an awkward chair. If you left it upright, you had to strain your neck forward to keep you spine alined.

If you laid back, you had to push your weight or throw your arms back and above your head to keep the recliner coming back to the sitting position. Yet we kept it an amazing 13 years. Actually, it's still in the living room.

On the other hand, Padre's mother has the Queen of all chairs. A La-z-Boy contstructed by Noah himself. Or an engineer with a medical degree. It is a highlight to visit her and sit in that chair.

Padre would go to her house, sit in it and fall asleep. Once he even mentioned to her that he "wished he'd come home from work one day and there that chair would be- ready for him to sink into as he watched Glenn Beck.

So Madre finally called Grandma and got the serial numbers on the bottom of the chair, the location of the store- which was in Preston, Idaho; and called the company.

There, on the floor, ready to buy, was a buckskin twin of Grma's chair. She compared prices to the IF stores, available colors and even with her driving clear to Preston; she saved dinero.

In order to surprise Padre and not wait a couple weeks for delivery, she took off to Preston. Right in the midst of Nuptial preparations. It was wild and crazy!!


Gma even stayed up all night the previous night worrying that her son wouldn't approve of Madre getting it, or possibly the car Madre was driving would break down, or (you fill in the blank). If you ever need a "worrier", we will loan her out to you for a small fee by telling her about your woes.

So the chair made it home, just shortly after Padre got home from a long trip to some other country or something to fix their communication problems via phones, etc.

He was elated.

Gma was elated. So elated that despite suffering from the ravages of Parkinson's Disease, she made the Herculean effort to come over and look at the chair, it's price tags still in place, in the living room. She sat in it and said: "Well, Craig, I want to see you in it." She slowly and painfully stood up and moved to the green chair.

Gpa replied: "She ain't comfortable unless she's miserable."

The man from whom all B.S. originated.

"Oh, you can sit in it, mom." Padre replied.  "I was just going to go take a shower and get all ready for bed and then sit in it." (He can't officially relax until he's showered.)

"Oh,no." Grma lamented. "Now I've gotten it dirty."  This made me laugh.

Memo to self: "Only wear Temple Clothing while sitting in Padre's new chair."

So you can imagine my surprise when I saw this:

Padre, on A Sunday afternoon, on the couch his tag bearing chair on display.

 I don't know the rationale behind this decision. If he is keeping the new throne in mint condition, debating on returning it, or wanted us to feel guilty that he wasn't in it cause we've sat in it a few times- whatever the reason, it is a mystery!

But there it is! The most comfortable chair you could ever sit in! And we now have one for him to come to after all he does for us during the day and find some real "rest".   I debated sitting in it as he was waking up, but opted to blog about it instead.