Cat Napping

This is Paddle, our smallest Tonkinese. She's our little whiner, otherwise known as Paddle One Note. She's made herself a kitty nest by disemboweling the stuffing from a pillow I was in the process of sewing back together. I wanted to wash the cover, and had to cut the stitching to remove the stuffing.



Yesterday after its washing, I stuffed the pillow back together, leaned it against the couch and left it until I found time to sew it. Paddle thought this was a great find, and pulled out all the innards to make herself a bed. I cleaned up her mess, re-stuffed the pillow, and this time hid it behind the couch. Well, as you can see, she found it again and "rearranged" the stuffing to suit herself. Now how can I be mad at her? She is kind of cute.

The next picture is one of the boys, Pong and Ball. Although Ball is smaller than Pong by nearly half, he's our alpha male and creates trouble whenever he can by pouncing and instigating a wrestling match. Pong just gets disgusted, ignores him and grumbles a lot.



At the end of the day, all is forgiven, and they share a soft place to sleep, using each other for pillows.

Bragging Rights

I'm not usually too much of a gardener. I try, but I'm not very consistent. Well, I'm turning over a new leaf, and this weekend I outdid myself with the mowing, weeding, planting, weedwacking, and general cleanup. Jim was busy all weekend working on rebuilding our waterfall and finishing up the deck he and his son are building at David's house. The yard looks really great, and I'm glad I stuck with it, even though it about did me in. As a reward, I decided to cut a bouquet of the irises for the table. They are just gorgeous, perhaps because of all the rain we had this spring. This is the first time I've ever had irises in my yard, and I can see why they are so loved by gardeners. I really hope they will last for a while.





This handmade infant's dress and hat was crocheted by my young friend K as a shower gift for her co-worker. It took her many hours, and the result is this exquisite, intricately handcrafted future heirloom. K has made a number of these sets for other friends and family members who were having babies. She always dresses a bear in the dress and hat as part of the gift. Lucky moms, lucky babies!

Is There a Doctor in the House?

Last night I had, once again, an anxiety dream. I have these a lot. Mine are usually in the form of being back in school. I have to take an exam, I'm late, haven't studied or studied the wrong thing, can't find the right room, etc. etc. Sometimes it's the first day of class and I can't find the classroom I'm supposed to be in. Or it's the day of the final exam, and I realize I never went to any of the classes. I'm forever getting lost in a strange building and the clock is ticking. I have these kinds of dreams so often that I don't get as freaked out as I used to. It's kind of, well, here we go again, time for my final exam and I can't find the classroom.

I think my psyche is catching on, and has decided I haven't been sufficiently stressed and traumatized lately. It's begun to raise the bar on the stress level. Kick it up a notch. So last night, I'm back again, first day of classes, only this time I'm in Harvard Medical School as a first year med student. I have all these weird classes to take, in strange buildings with complex, winding corridors, and I'm lost in a sea of really brainy people. Once again, can't get where I'm supposed to be, I'm late, and separated from the person I rode with so I won't be able to get home. I have my hands full of things, nowhere to put them, and I keep dropping everything. I have to climb over people to get to find a seat.

The irony of this particular dream is that I'm the last person who should ever become a doctor. I can't stand the sight of blood. I can't even watch someone getting a shot. I'm definitely not the person you want in charge when there's an emergency. Even the thought of someone being injured or in pain makes me woozy. I admit it - I'm a fainter. The first time was when I stabbed my palm with a kitchen knife while trying to separate frozen hamburgers. It was a deep puncture wound, and it didn't bleed, which bothered me more so than if it had bled. Ended up in a heap on the floor and had to crawl the rest of the way to the bathroom. The next was when my husband was putting eye drops put in my eye. I was getting more and more nervous and after several unsuccessful tries, totally passed out. He had to carry me, unconscious, to the couch.

The real kicker was one day when I took my pre-teen step-daughter to the Emergency Room. She had a really awful sore throat and couldn't swallow. She was miserable and in terrible pain. We were told to wait. I remember walking down the corridor, feeling light-headed, and knew what was coming next. Saw a bench further down, and headed towards it, the corridor closing in on me. I barely made it. Just then a passing doctor saw what was going on and came over to help me. Had me put my head between my knees. When he determined that I was coming around and my color was returning, he said, "Now, who brought you in?"

How embarrassing.

"Mow Town"

After several days of cool, rainy weather, today started off with sunshine and brilliant blue skies. I still get excited about clear morning skies here in Maryland, after living through 17 years of "May Gray" and "June Gloom" in San Diego. As nice as San Diego weather can be, for two to three months of the year, San Diegans endure gray, overcast skies until late morning or even into early afternoon - the result of fog banks and mist rolling in over the city from the ocean. Eventually the sun breaks through the fog and sunshine prevails for the remainder of the day. But San Diego mornings are gloomy. We've been living here almost two years now, and morning sunshine in spring is just another reason to love our new abode.

I decided to take advantage of the mild weather to saddle up the John Deere. We live on two acres, much of it grass. Since I learned how to operate the riding mower, I'm usually the primary mower. I enjoy the zen of mowing, even though it still takes 3+ hours to complete the job. The front lawn is a wide open hill, then interspersed with young trees, then maneuvers between huge hardwoods and gardens, around the house, and finally beside the veggie garden and patio.

I use the time alone on the mower to enjoy the scenery, the birds, the cloud patterns, and especially the wonderful, fresh smell of newly cut grass. It's a great time to let my mind wander, make plans, or organize my thoughts. There's usually a lot of chatter going on in there - songs, conversations, lists, you name it - to keep me entertained, so I'm never bored. After living in urban areas nearly all my life, I find living in an open, rural environment very peaceful. Should have moved to the country long ago.

Where's my Spaghetti Strainer?

Ok, I think I've seen way too much TV. I woke up this morning after a dream in which I was giving Michael Jackson hair styling advice. There he was, standing next to his limo, getting ready for another televised entrance into the courthouse. He was combing his hair, and I was advising him about blowing it dry to avoid excesss curl. What's up with that? All this news coverage of the trial has seeped into my subconscious and I can't get away from it, even in my own bed at night. Enough already! Maybe all those weirdos who wear aluminum foil reflector caps on their heads aren't so crazy after all.

Playdate with Mr. Mole

This afternoon I arrived home after some shopping and saw Pong napping on the patio glider. He was glad to see me 'cause he wanted his afternoon snack. I busied myself traipsing in and out, putting things away, and was shutting the back door when I spied Pong running up the step with a LIVE MOLE in his mouth. I yelled "NO!" but he darted right past me INTO THE HOUSE, mole and all. I yelled again "NO, NO!" but as my friend would say, it was a waste of spit. He was thrilled, ran behind the recliner and let the mole go. Of course, the mole ran, which is exactly what Pong wanted, and the pounce and run game was on.

The other two Tonks thought this was a great idea. All of them were thrilled with the new arrival. The mole ran under a pillow sitting on the floor, the cats pawing away and sniffing. Well, some felines these guys turned out to be. There they were trying to get at the mole, and unbeknown to them, he had already slipped past them, ran along the wall, behind the entertainment unit, across the carpet, in front of the fireplace and behind the drapes. Terrific. Now I have to catch the damned mole myself! Lame, useless pusseycats, still pawing away at the pillow.

Grabbed the closest thing, some wrapping paper tissue from one of my purchases and tried to pick the mole up. Yikes, what if he bites? And he's rabid? I let go of him and he ran behind the bookcase. Swell. Now what? Can't do anything alone, so I'll have to wait until Jim gets home. Figured the mole would probably stay put, and the cats had already gotten bored with pillow pawing.

Well, I didn't have to wait long. Jim arrived, and I explained the whole predicament. He looked slightly amused, and rather proud of the brat cat's hunting prowess. I told him the mole was behind the bookcase, but he was doubtful. The plan was to unload the bookcase, move it away from the wall, and shack him out if he was there. Jim thought it might be easier to get Pong to catch him than one of us. I doubted it, considering their ineptness earlier, but didn't want to argue about it. Opened the door to get Pong back in the house, but Ball came inside instead. Well, Ball's a cat too, so I deposited him behind the bookcase to do his thing. No whisker twitching, no interest. He walked away. So much for Ball's hunting instincts. Picked him up, kicking and screaming, and put him behind the bookcase again. He ran away. Well, we tipped the bookcase up, and sure enough, there was the poor mole, hunkered down and looking rather pathetic. Since Jim was the one holding the bookcase, it fell to me to be the mole catcher. I donned a pair of heavy leather gloves, scooped up Mr. Mole and carried him to the front door. Jim open it, and I set my little rodent down between the bushes. He just laid there, kinda stunned, I guess. I gave him a little nudge, and he scampered off, free to fight another day.

Pong is on my list.

Here's the tribe in napping mode.

Buggy Booster

What a gorgeous day. I decided today would be a great day to get a few tomato plants. Jim had amended and rototilled our garden patch a week or so ago, and it was in perfect shape for a garden. The location is also perfect - a southern exposure that gets sun all day, and the watering hose is nearby.

So it was on to Lowe's to check out their Garden Department. I was a little apprehensive about what I might find there, since I had stopped in a couple of weeks ago and the selection was rather pathetic. I could tell as soon as I drove up that today was a good day for buying plants. Lots of color and variety and selection. Super! Suddenly I needed a lot more than just tomato plants. No carts available, so I followed an elderly lady to her car, relieved her of her empty cart, and entered the garden store. Along with a couple hundred or so other flower shoppers.

Happily made my selections of tomatoes, sweet peppers, cucumbers, marigolds, petunias, and my favorite - a cute little succulent called Hen and Chicks. Spent a lot of time fastidiously selecting each pot, making sure I got the best of each. With all the shopping cart traffic, it was easier to pull the cart out of the way and bring my selections to it rather than maneuvering around bent over behinds and baby strollers. Made a last stop for some blueberry bushes (on sale!) and returned to my cart. Or rather to where I THOUGHT it was. No cart. Must have forgotten where I left it. Started walking up and down the aisles searching for my wayward cart, then doubled back again. After tramping through the whole department, it became evident that the cart had been spirited away by some absent minded fool who thought it was theirs. Started an in-depth search, poking my nose into every cart in the store. Nobody had my stuff.

Now I was seething. Get another cart. Back to square one. So what the heck had I spent the better part of an hour choosing? Well, by the time I figured out what plants I wanted - AGAIN - and was about to get into line for the register, THERE THEY WERE! All my plants, everything I had lovingly chosen, scrunched together on a marigold shelf. Can you believe it? Somebody just wheeled away my cart, and when they discovered it wasn't theirs, instead of taking out their own stuff, dumped out MY stuff. Jeez Louise! What a nasty little trick. I hope their tomatoes give them heartburn.

A Phobia is Born

Did you watch the 2-hour finale of CSI last night? Woof! I usually watch these things rather passively, since I've become a bit jaded with all the gore and graphic realism portrayed in these types of shows. Ho, hum. I watch with half an eye while paying bills or skimming through a magazine. Well, they sure pushed all my buttons last night. The character Nick was kidnapped and buried alive in a plexaglass coffin by a madman who blew himself up when they delivered the 1 million dollar ransom. WITHOUT first telling Grishom where his guy was buried. Throughout the episode they show Nick inside this plastic box, hardly able to move, all his agonies captured via a web cam feed. His predicament intensifies ten fold once the plastic box develops some cracks from the wieght of the earth on top, and dirt starts trickling in over his feet. More horrors as a colony of fire ants storm in, "eating him alive." They show macro closeups of the biting jaws tearing at pieces of his flesh. Nick does the only thing he can and stuffs pieces of cloth into his nostrils and chewing gum in his ears. Lips and eyes are shut tight in a terrible grimace. He's covered with ants everywhere, especially all over his head. It was truly awful. He gets saved in the end, of course, just as his air supply runs out. Drama, drama. Definitely a nail-biter. The thing that really made me shiver is that in real life, this poor sod was ACTUALLY CRAWLING with those creepy buggers. And he WAS confined in that tight, coffin-sized space, even if it was just a television program. I sure hope he got hazardous duty pay. You couldn't pay me enough to do what he did.

I'm not really scared of the ususal spiders or snakes or heights, within reason, but I do have a real-life phobia of being closed in small spaces. It all stems from a time back in high school when I went on a night time hayride with a bunch of other teens. That part was fun. Afterwards, there was a hay maze we had to crawl through. It was really tight quarters, and there we were in the dark, head to toe, crawling through twists and turns on our bellies. The kids in the front were too slow for some of the ones behind, who were getting scared in this narrow tunnel. Then the idiot in front of me pulled out his Bic lighter and LIT IT. Even now, writing it down, my breathing is rapid. I can see that image in my mind's eye, and feel the panic I felt then. People screamed and he put it out right away, but in that instant, the thought of that whole bank of hay bales catching fire with all of us inside being burned alive left me with a case of claustrophobia that has never gone away. The "what ifs" of that night haunt me even now, nearly four decades later.

Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival

This past weekend was the long awaited Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. It was really great. So glad I went. I tried to capture the flavor of the event through pictures to post here.


Karakuls Sheep


Yarn Cubbies


Judging Lambs


Beautiful Sweaters


Ready for Shearing


Wraps and Shawls


Dancing on One Foot

Loved the crowds, the colors, the energy, and the beautiful wools and yarns. I'll be goiing again next year!

Watermelon Bowling

Today was Mother's Day, and it was perfect. The weather was balmy, the sky clear blue, it was gorgeous. Our plans were for a special family picnic at the Triadelphia Reservoir, followed by a little fishing for the guys and the grandkids. Couldn't have been a nicer day. Great food, good company, and a beautiful setting. Everyone had a terrific day.

Well, it didn't start out quite that way. Jim and I were running a little late, but after a few false starts for forgotten bottled water, book, and cell phone, we were off. Only about 15 minutes behind schedule. Not bad. After traveling about 4 miles, I began absently thinking about picking up the KFC on our way, and I realized - "WE FORGOT THE FOOD!"

He: "What food?"
She: "The veggie tray and the watermelon!"

U-turn, 4 miles back to the house, open the garage door, rush inside, open the fridge, retrieve the wholesale club mega-veggies in one hand, the soccer ball sized watermelon in the other hand, and troop back to the truck. Truck door had closed. A third hand would be nice. Since the veggies were more cumbersome, I set the watermelon down, to balance it with my foot while opening the door. Did I mention that we live on a hill? And the watermelon was perfectly round? As I opened the door, it started getting away from me, slowly rolled onto the grass and past a tree. The Newtonian gravity thing started kicking in, it picked up speed, and rolled down the entire length of the driveway, ACROSS the road, into the NEIGHBOR'S driveway, bounced down THEIR lawn, into the swail, and barrelled on down the road. After a few more bumps, it flew up in the air and came smashing down in the middle of the pavement.

Swell. Not only are we late, now we have a smushy red mess of gigantic proportion to clean up. The size of a football field, or so it seemed.

Ah well, at least it was seedless.

Environmentally Correct

The highlight of our week was a trip to Annapolis, MD. The purpose of the trip was a visit to the Philip Merrill Environmental Center, a "green" building housing the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. Except it's actually better than green - it's the only LEEDS "platinum" building in the U.S. - the epitomy of an environmentally friendly building. The LEEDS (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) designations are green, silver, gold, and platinum. My understanding is that there are only seven buildings throughout the world that have been given the platinum rating. This building was constructed five years ago using recycled materials, with windows galore, solar and geothermal heating, a rainwater cachment system, and COMPOSTING TOILETS! Of course, I had to check those out. There's no flushing, no water. It's rather like an outhouse privy. A sign on the stall door says not to put anything into the toilet that you haven't eaten, except for toilet paper. Hmmmm. It was actually quite refreshing, the breeze flowing up from far below to caress one's bare nether end. After using the facilities, a handful of wood chips from a nearby pail is tossed into the hole and the composting continues. Amazingly enough, there's NO odor. How do they do that?

My opinion is that the building is definitely function over form - it does what it is intended to do, and does it extremely well, but asthetics and architectural appeal are lacking, at least for me. That being said, I was extremely impressed with the efforts that have been made to be environmentally friendly. We could all learn much from this example of less is more. We definitely need to reevaluate our consumption of natural resources in this country, this world. We can do so much better, as they have demonstrated in this exemplary building.



The Center sits on a beautiful site on the Chesapeake Bay:



A great experience, and an inspiration to go home and recycle some cans.

A Day to remember

What a great Sunday. We drove to Brighton Dam on the Patuxent River, Triadelphia Reservoir for a stroll through the beautiful Azalea Gardens. There are 5 acres of gorgeous azaleas, just about at their peak. All colors, pinks, whites, reds. Totally gorgeous! Here's an example:


This shot is a flowering dogwood tree. I really love this picture:


We tried a little fishing, but today the fish were the only lucky ones.


Another view of the Patuxent River:


A view across the reservoir from the Azalea gardens:


Love this old weatherd stairway up to the picnic area:


After we left Brighton Dam we had a delicious authentic Mexican dinner of Chili Rellanos. A pretty terrific Sunday. If you'd like to see more of my photos, here's my web site. I also uploaded a number of flower and kitty pictures that I like: http://www.flickr.com/photos/59709869@N00/sets/290845/