Early Christmas

Today, upon entering my computer, I found that behind one of the tabs there was a small gift box with a red ribbon around it, just waiting for me to hit "enter".  I'm a patient person, the type who could, if asked, save my Christmas gifts for next year, but this one was carrying a message:

 "They say to open me now", it whispered.

I'm also pretty much a person who plays by the rules, so I did open it.

Wow.  It's a Christmas greeting from many, many miles away, in a far country where once upon a time I lived. It's from a friend.  It says that I make him laugh, that my blog is awesome, that I master writing. It even says that my internet connection is amusing. (It is! It's a six foot antenna on top of a barren mountain.)  And then it ends in saying that I should remember that I'm just the best.    Just like that.

Really, with that kind of a lovely holiday present, I would not care much if I got the flu for Christmas. Or find coal in my stocking.  Though I've been trying to be good.

I did not make this illustration. I don't know who did. It's just so pretty.

Maybe Santa won't strike me down for sharing it.  Just trying to spread beauty, today.

.

It's better, now. Much better.

And it wasn't all that bad to begin with, the day I wrote about in the last entry here. It was just not as perfect as a normal day in this wonderful piece of land we have been given. Or, rather, we paid for it, but somebody made this desert, and they were good to us...

It was a good chunk of the day off the ranch, and in town. It was a bit snowy, and I wanted to get some gas in my car before we got snowed in. The internet was down, and I brought the laptop to mooch on some open channel in town. It was also the last day to pay the property taxes, so I had to go to the bank. (That's part of the downed internet.)

Then all these things were nipping at me:
Line at the bank. Didn't find what I needed at the store. Laptop battery failing miserably. Gas gauge sinking low. Personal needs. Maybe an itch on my back, too, and I couldn't reach it. Nothing went right.

So it wasn't like I got rear-ended or something. But it was not comfortable. I was glad to get home.

Days later I'm looking at my post below, and realize that my writings didn't get posted, nor saved. I'm adding that to the day that was for the most part an emotional blah.

Today is cold and sunny and gorgeous, and I'm looking at the ranch chores as a wonderful gift to me. Thank you, universe.

 The picture is one I took in monsoon season, from the back of the house.  Pretty!

.

One of those days.

Holiday parties galore!

It's the time to be merry and happy and jolly, and to get out of the house and shake the cabin fever with the cheerful company of family and friends. It's Christmas party time!

I do like Christmas. Being of Viking ancestry, and for nature's good reason, I like even more the brief celebration of Winter Solstice.  It's called "first day of winter" here, but more importantly, to me, it's the longest night of the year, and then it gets lighter again!   Yeay!   Sure it gets colder, but I can live with that; just give me more of the sunlight!

Meanwhile I'm just trying to find suitable clothes for parties, with cute themes, or without. There seems to be a party most every day of this month. Tomorrow there is a 1920's one. I'll post a picture. Of myself. Maybe.

What I'm trying to say, perhaps, is that there is some pressure, pressure to be cheery, and to be dressed in Santa hats or whatever, and I'm also just trying to keep up with the regular chores and trying not to freeze when I change to party clothes from my grubby but warm ranch wear.

Seeing the bright side of things.

It's about getting older. I'm already old, but I have the great luck of being alive, and also getting (even) older. See, here is a benefit already! I'm alive!

What I was thinking of, though, was the more mundane consequences of getting older. Today in the shower, I noticed that I have less leg  hair than when I was younger. Then I was musing on the fact that this has been going on for years, now.  Sort of handy.  I can skip a few days of shaving, or even all of winter, and take up the habit again in late spring.

Similarly, with housekeeping, I seem to be less reckless about what I drag inside, and the other half is more considerate than in previous years. I can't see well out the windows, especially not the small things I'm trying to spot outside, and that turn out to be small, dead insects on the inside of the glass, but other than that, it stays fairly decent inside, when it comes to clean and tidy.

Or so I thought. My reality may be much, much more frightening. Now, today I suspect it's been creeping upon me, and I might have denied this for a while because it was with such... stealth, it crept.

I think I need reading glasses. Or some kind of glasses.

Thinking back a month or several, we had some younger friends visiting for the first time, Their children were excited by all the barnyard animals, and we all had a fun visit. Once the kids had petted everybody, and gotten comfortable with true ranch living, we settled inside of the house for a spell.  I hadn't had the time to fix the bed or do the breakfast dishes, but I had no worries about being judged.

Well, the children ran about as kids do, and when they had investigated the rooms, including my yoga and sewing loft, they excitedly told the world "... and there's spider webs everywhere!"

I really didn't know what to say, so I brought them all outside to inspect the tomatoes in the greenhouse.

This is not the greenhouse, but a room in the house. I call it the library, but it's also the piano and costume room. If I put on my glasses, it might need some dusting...

Why do they have the saying "older than dirt"?.

And for my soul...

Just when we are all certain that I am only totally comfortable inside of my little country slot, here's something new...

There is music! I love the passion in singing, dancing, drumming and strumming.

Let me share:
Playing For Change | La Tierra del Olvido

This kind of music makes me want to laugh and dance and hug anybody who is near!  Maybe music is the only way to world peace. Music is passionate and peaceful at the same time - what a wonderful feeling that is!

This particular song would be a cluster of crazy wild roses if it were in anybody's garden, I'd like to think.  Deep red, of course.

My photo is wild enough, though it looks a bit restrained, and maybe my local cactus flowers are more like a crosscut of me and the other me. Pink, not red, but trying for bright and being quite hopeful.

.

The aftermath

Thanksgiving came and went, and it was good, and it didn't leave much in its wake. It took us most of the day to watch the turkey in the smoker, and a good portion of the night to eat it. A two-piece day, so to speak.

OK, there was some more to it:  Friends dropping by. Us dropping by at friends' places. Lots more food being prepared. A good holiday.

A funny thing in my memory was that I had decided to wish all the animals Happy Thanksgiving independently, but my mind was racing, so it took a long time from my morning route to do so. After the incubator with chicks-to-be, and the little turk-ling and baby chicks in the brooder AND the donkeys and so on... well, I had to make the decision just to chant the blessings and well-wishes. Which I did with the remaining twenty-something turks.

My newest horse got a special hug, just because she is such a love. And I almost prayed for family and friends, for their health and happiness.

This is the turkey and a whole salmon on our barbecue:

 There are left-overs. And, oh, we smelled of camp fire!

Pick me! Pick me!

Thanksgiving is near. This morning I had twenty-five live turkeys. Now, at lunch time, I have one less. It's a lot of work processing them for the table. It's also a lot of work breeding the critters and feeding and caring for them.

Then comes the day when I bring a rope instead of breakfast. They all line up and gobble; all wanting to be the one who gets most of my attention. It sucks to feel I betray them, but it's that or... just have jams and stuffing.

I don't take these chores lightly. Also, when a turkey is served up, I don't over-eat, or throw the left-overs in the trash. I gnaw on each little morsel just like I can imagine the pilgrims did, if they indeed had turkeys to eat.

Just philosophizing, if that's a word.

Little pleasures?

My car passed smog testing!  Wow!  I mean, I did expect it to pass, but I suppose it's like taking a health test and wonder how your life will change and get awful and you have to sell your house to pay the bills and all that.
The car is nice, but it's sort of old, and who knows what could conceivably happen to it.

I'm also really attached to it, desert varnish and all. (That's a polite way of saying that the paint is flaking off because I don't have a garage and the sun is relentless here.)

Not that I mind. The part about the sun. I love that. Especially today when my main means of transportation (excluding my feet and my horse) got a clean bill of health.

Supposedly, now, I'd include something nasty about the State of California taking more of my money than really should happen, but I'm happy.

The car even runs better, it feels like.

Forbidden words!

In my ideal world, there will be very few rules. I love the rule of "Be Nice", so that one is a definite keeper. It will cover most situations, won't it?

What it WILL NOT COVER IS  (forgive the yelling :) the marketing expression of "exciting new yada yada experience".

Even the most reputable and for the most part (?) rich corporations fall for this, and think that will sell me.
No. It really turns me off.  It's not exciting and it's not new and it is not an experience because I'm not buying it.

I don't buy stuff that's "green" in the ads either.

Maybe there will be a very nice post from me next.  It's overdue. This picture sums up my feelings:

I found the statue outside a restaurant near Palm Springs.

.

Things.

There are things and then there are THINGS. There are lots of them, and some are large ones. Many little ones are in boxes and bags.

I am a minimalist. pretty much.  The sort of person who does not like to shop. Also, I do not like to throw things away, so, fortunately I have little reason to shop.  I'm happy with my five things.

OK, not five. I have clothes and books and tools. Also, we have a few acres to spread things around on. Not an excess of belongings; easy enough to manage. Not worth writing about, really.

Now, the other half, that's different. The other half grew up wanting a junk yard. Yes, it's the truth. After he got done going to fashion school, or maybe it was to become an architect, he got back to his "roots" and started collecting tires.  Often they are connected to the large pieces of metal that is cars. Those smell, they make lots of noise, and they take up a lot of space. They make dark puddles in the sand where the oil drips. They choke my breath on early morning walks.

Eh. I'm sounding whiny.  So we have over a hundred tires (with attached cars) parked here. I just felt like saying it. There's also a half dozen cats here, needing their own little "houses"s to crawl into and call home.
I make sure the side windows are open for them.

Since I can't show a picture of that (other half might find out!), here's a pretty cat who just recently passed away, and he's happily occupying the house.

.

Fashion faux-pas

Yesterday, late afternoon, there was a ground squirrel in the trap that sits in the "orchard-to-be"... that's when the trees grow up a bit, and that is if the squirrels don't eat them first. It's sad that we can't share at this point, but that's how it is.

The critter was sent to the big squirrel wheel in the sky. Then this picture was taken.
I have a hard time believing this is me. Squirrel or no squirrel.

Do I really dress like that...?  I should be embarrassed. But it was cold.

Anyway., speaking of dressing, I dressed out the squirrel. I fed the meat to the cats. The skin goes to fixing a Dan Boone hat. If it tans right.

.

Limping to Nirvana

That's one of  the sayings of my yoga teacher after any of our more challenging classes. It has also become one of my repetitive thoughts, as I go through any attempt at "bettering myself" AKA "You are going to regret this before you like it".  Ayeii!

Why is there always a price to be paid for any activity we do because it's GOOD for us? Why can't we just go through what's going to make us so virtuous or healthy or... I guess even... more insightful (?) and then get our "dessert".  Huh?  Huh?

Say I'm trying to reach my toes while not bending my knees. That's important, right...?  So I stretch, and pull my hamstring, and then I'm in pain for the next few months.  Where's my cookie?  Yeah, after all that I CAN reach my toes. Eh.

Or I go through a heartbreak of one sort or the other, and it hurts and hurts. One day I am "better", and it doesn't hurt much anymore, which is important to know.  But still no cookie.

I put in the work. I suffered the pain. Can I please have a cookie?   :)

No yoga picture. Here's one of a Cholla cactus - pleasure and pain, I suppose.
.

.

 

.

Slap! - waking up to reality

I had really psyched myself up to the face that we were going to have our first frost tonight. It's not my favorite milestone of the year, but it needs to be dealt with. Wrap some pipes and faucets, and take in the last of the veggies from the garden. Lay up some wood in the house and office, for heat and just to feel cozy.

But that should be tonight - not last night. Tonight. I don't know what the weather people were thinking. Or I.

It did feel cool in the morning, as I was waking up the old bones with a slow jog to the barn. My eyes were half open by the time I had poured my coffee, and I was assessing the day ahead when I looked out over the garden. It was frozen.

Not a little frozen, like a fairy dusting of frost on leaves, but there was ice everywhere. Like this:

It's my own sad version of the hanging gardens. You don't get this effect easily in the desert.
(I had turned on the irrigation hoses last night, and left it at that.)
Considering that the East coast just had an October storm, I don't expect any sympathy, but I will happily accept advice what to do with defrosted peppers and tomatoes.

It's a lesson in "form your own opinion" and "don't believe everything you read".

El día de los muertos

That's Spanish for "The day of the dead". I learned about this holiday in Mexico, and took it home to California. Not that there aren't people here who celebrate it - there are millions of Mexicans here. Anyway, it's a very old (pre-hispanic) ritual, welcoming the dead back to this side at the very beginning of November, every year, and celebrating with the souls.

There are altars with pictures of the dead, and nice offerings of whatever they needed and liked while here on earth. Food and drink, of course, to share! Masses of marigold flowers! There is the Catrinas, and the sugar skulls and music. Candles and more candles.

I was looking for a nice video to post a link to, but they were all so good that I just sat there and got nothing done. Copy my subject line and look it up. You, too, can get stuck in the web.

What I did do: I did take a picture of my Catrina, and of my "ofrenda", my offering of rice, beans, fresh vegetables, and herbs and chiles.

There was also tequila on the table, in case some soul wanted it.  Just sayin'...

.

Goat love

This will be semi-adult-ish, unless you're a farm kid, in which case it all is so clear and normal.

My buck (billy goat) Chief has taken a real liking to one of his four wives. A real liking. She's black with blue eyes, and very striking.

All day he's been chasing her around the corral, and in and out of the little shelters. Finally she's now settled herself inside what's called a dogloo, a plastic igloo for dogs, but they are nicely indestructible for goat keeping.

So Fancy  stands inside of the dogloo, looking like a tortoise when her head sticks out. Chief keeps ramming the walls, thinking there will come a day when he breaks through.

A very basic interpretation of their conversation would be like this:

"But I don't want to do that right now. I will not come out. Maybe I'm expecting."

"That is not my problem. My problem is I want to do that right now. You come out."

And so on. In the picture she might be trying to cover her ear.

.

That was uphill.

Not much of ranching news today. I just didn't want to do creative things. No heroics, as I call them. Well, I did paint a garden (or greenhouse) table. It is metal, and it was white and rust. Now it's black (with some rust).

I wanted to go for a walk, and so I did. It was meant to be a one hour jaunt around the neighborhood, but I got to climbing and climbing more. The dog looked at me intermittently: "What are we doing?"  I looked back when I could, because the footing was dicey.

On the top it looked like this:

That's Palm Springs way out there.  And my legs are tired.

.

Zorba

I have a parrot captive. Since twelve years. Not really by choice - she was a rescue.

Trying to get some work done, I hear her from her outside aviary through the thin walls of my little office building.  She's upset, because it's windy. She wants me to do something about it.

Guess I could take her inside, and then leave the building.

She sounds like this:
WA-WAA!  pause.   WA-WAA!  pause.  WA-WAA!  pause.  WA-WAA!  pause. WA-WAA!
       (This is only medium upset.  She has a bigger sound, too. She does not speak.)

It's a little like water torture, something I have not experienced, but I can imagine.

Her name is Zorba, and she is a Greater Sulfurcrested Cockatoo.

.