Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

We usually put up the Christmas tree a day or two after Thanksgiving. I've learned over the years how to make it a happy and peaceful affair by doing my part and letting Carol do hers. My job is getting the tree and setting it up. Carol's part is doing the decorating and smacking me if I get in the road.

After slogging through waist deep snow, searching for the perfect tree, chopping it down... Actually I just got the box out of the attic and stuck the fake branches in the fake tree, but I did work up a sweat! My job done, I poured a glass of wine and sat down to watch the master at work.

I had forgotten that the first thing a master Christmas tree decorator does is to re-arrange the furniture, so I put my glass in a safe place and began sliding furniture back and forth around the living room until everything was in a harmonious Christmas feng shui position.

I retrieved my wine and sat back down, (in a new place,) and breathed a sigh of relief as Carol opened the first box of lights. “These don't work!” she said.

“I'll fix them.” I told her, setting my glass of untouched wine back down on the newly moved table. I took the tangled string of lights out to the kitchen and plugged them in.”You're right!” I yelled as I threw them into the trash, “Try another string!” Fortunately, there was an abundance of working lights and I watched and sipped as she draped and hung. Soon she was ready for the ornament stage.

For some reason our Christmas ornaments seem to breed and procreate in their boxes. Every year we winnow them out and give tons of them away, but when Christmas arrives there are still enough to decorate the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

“I can't reach that,” she said, holding the top-of-the-tree ornament, and looking at me with a worried look on her face.

At last! I get to put a decoration on the tree, I thought. I shakily climbed up on a dining room chair, and with a lot of coaching from the maestro, bent one of the fake limbs straight up in the air and stuck the final ornament on our tree.

We put the empty boxes away, and I poured Carol a glass of vino.

“What do you think?” she asked, raising her glass and looking at the sparkling tree.

“It looks beautiful,” I said, “that ornament on the top really sets it off!”

Look for the Silver Lining

Over the years I've found that it's always best to find the silver lining, and to see the glass as half full.

Being afflicted with Parkinson's Disease makes it a little more difficult to retain an optimistic attitude, but there are a few positive things that I've noticed since my symptoms began.

Our little dog, Taz has figured out that when he lays on his back beside me on the easy chair or couch, he'll get twice the action and petting because of my left hand tremors than from my still steady right hand; so he always squirms in on my left side.

Our Sonic toothbrush died the other day, but I've found that between brushing with my left hand and my jaw tremors, I can almost equal sonic vibrations.

If I'm standing in a dark room and turn out the lights or close my eyes, I'd better be hanging on to something, because I'm about to take a trip and not leave the farm. Dizzying, but kind of fun!

Most importantly though, now I can blame P.D. for just about anything; whether it's something I forgot, (an anniversary or birthday,) or something that I completely messed up, (broken dishes, tracked up carpet, dented fender!)

It's nice to have a universal excuse!

Drift Creek 2008

The Day I Maced Grandma

by Grandpa

OK kids, listen up. Here's the true story of how I maced your grandma, (great-grandma to some of you.)

It started out like a normal shopping day. We got up early and drove north 18 miles to Newport, our closest city with more than one stop light. Grandma and I figure it's worth the drive every other week or so, to take advantage of the lower prices. We usually go to Wal-Mart first, then to the bakery for day old bread, and on the way home we stop by the Dollar Tree to look for more bargains.

The huge Wal-Mart parking lot was nearly empty, so we were able to park fairly close to the door. As we went inside past the greeter, who sleepily intoned, “Welcome to Wal-Mart,” we could hear the supervisors giving their employees an early morning pep talk.

“Now let's get out there and sell, don't forget to smile, and who's number one?”

“The customer!' a chorus of voices half-heartedly chimed in.

We picked up some various “made in China” merchandise along with some groceries,dog food, paper towels, toothpaste, shampoo, etc. and wheeled our cart up to a lonely cashier in an empty checkout lane. “It sure is easier to shop when we get here early,” grandma remarked.

“Yep, we're getting too old to fight the crowds anymore,” I said. The cashier grunted in agreement, almost forgetting the smile part of her pep talk, as she loaded our stuff in plastic bags and thanked us for shopping at Wal-Mart. The greeter thanked us for shopping at Wal-Mart again as we went through the door.

Next stop was the day old bread store at the local bakery. It's a small store, (only two shopping carts) but it's a good place for senior citizens like us to save some money. We found some loaves of my favorite rye, some hamburger buns and some whole wheat bread for grandma. We'd keep a couple of loaves out to use and stick the rest in the freezer when we got home.

The Dollar Tree was just opening up as we pulled into the parking lot. I figured we might be a while, because you never could tell what kind of one-dollar bargains we would find there. One thing for sure - there was no rushing grandma, so I went scouting on my own, bringing back items for her approval.

I brought back a jar of olives, a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, some reading glasses which I used to see the fine print on the olive jar, (a product of Turkey,) and a dog chew toy (made in China.) Grandma nodded OK at my selections and said,”While you're wandering around, see if you can find some room deodorizer spray.”

When I found it, the selection was staggering: Lemon Flower, Delicious Apple, Luscious Peach, Blue Splash, Mango, Mandarin Orange, ( My mouth started watering) Vanilla Royale, Wild Rose, and more.

Which to choose. I grabbed a can of Wild Rose and tried to find grandma. Sometimes she manages to somehow hide behind the display ends and no matter how many aisles I look down, or how many times I go back and forth looking she's never there. The best solution is to stay put and let her find me.

Pretty soon I heard her call my name from behind me. (She always sneaks up behind me, I don't know how she does it.) “Did you find some deodorizer?” I held the can of Wild Rose out and decided to give a sample spritz in front of her so she could see what it smelled like.

Now over my seventy-odd years, I've used many spray cans. I spray-can painted a tractor once, spray- can lacquered all of the tables and chairs in a restaurant, and I spray butter flavored, no stick cooking spray in my egg skillet every morning. You push the button down and the spray comes out the front, right? Well, this one didn't work that way.

I pushed the button and it sprayed straight out of the top right into grandmas face. Really hard. Really a lot. (Maybe I shouldn't have nervously shook the can so much while I was waiting for her.)

Grandma yelled something at me, I don't remember what it was, it's probably blocked from my memory, (hopefully forever.) Red faced and partially blinded, she groped for a tissue to wipe her streaming eyes. “Gaack, ptooey! That's awful!” she sputtered. The whole aisle smelled like rotten rose petals. The other customers quickly cleared the area.

Horrified at what I'd done, besides saying how sorry I was, I didn't know what else to do. If I'd asked the store manager for help she would probably have suspected me of grandma abuse, or at the very least spraying before paying. She might even call the cops, the EPA or Homeland Security.

Thankfully the weeping, spitting and sputtering was dying down, so I got up the courage to meekly ask,”Well, what do you think? Of the smell, I mean. Is it OK?”

In a low voice that could have come from the pits of Hades, she said, “Put it back and get me the hell out of here!”

Before I put the can of Wild Rose back on the shelf I grabbed my new glasses and read on the bottom: Made in China.

Damn Chinese, I think it's a nefarious plot to slowly wipe us out, one spritz at a time!

How (not) to install an awning

Several months ago while we were sitting out on J.C.'s deck, sipping our glasses of wine, he mentioned that he had looked into the patio awnings advertised on TV, but that they were really spendy. I told him that every now and then I'd seen used ones for sale and that I'd keep my eyes open for one.

Sure enough, several weeks later, a used 16 foot RV awning was listed on our local cable TV “wheel,” so Carol dialed the number and found out that it was just a few houses away from our place. We called J.C. and when he arrived we walked down the road to look at it.

The awning was neatly stored on a rack in the owners garage, and he showed us the large motor home that it had been removed from, to be replaced by a newer motorized model. The awning was in really good shape and looked almost like new. We thanked the older gentleman for his time and J.C. said he'd think about it, and let him know.

A week or so later J.C. called and said that he was going to go ahead and get the awning, so he and I drove down, tied it on the kayak racks on top of our pickup and delivered it to the“project pile” in his carport. On the bottom of the pile is the roll of carpet we were going to put in his bedroom but never got around to it, next is a layer of stepping stones that will go in front of his barbecue some day, and then some 2X6 shelves for the green house. The awning sat proudly on top.

Every afternoon we sat out on the deck, sipping wine and planning how to make an RV awning work on the side of a mobile home. The seller had generously included some installation instructions but they seemed confusing, so after much consideration, planning and sipping we decided to play it by ear. J.C. had to order some mounting hardware for it on the Internet so we had plenty of time to sip and plan. It turned out that it wasn't enough.

Last Saturday J.C. called and asked if I'd come up and help him hang the awning. His son Kelly had a day off so he thought the three of us could put it up in no time. I walked the mile and a half to his house, (which I've been doing lately to get some exercise) and saw when I arrived that he'd installed a mounting board under the eaves, had the awning uprights attached and propped up on sawhorses, and the rail drilled and ready. “If you and Kelly hold it in place by the uprights I'll put the screws in the rail and we should be in business!”After a little fumbling and bumbling we got things in position and J.C. used his screw gun to fasten it in place with deck screws.

“Well, that worked out OK,” I said,” Lets see if it unrolls!” We tugged and pulled but nothing happened.

“I think there's a release on that end!”J.C. said, so I stood on a ladder and flipped a likely looking lever. My end of the awning began to open. “Aha! So I guess to roll it back up you flip it back like this! Owww!” The awning snapped back with three of my fingers caught under the upright.

“Are you OK?” J.C. asked.

“Id be better if I could get my *^#% fingers out of here!” I answered.

“Flip the lever!” Kelly yelled. Eventually, after tugging, pulling, cussing and flipping we got my squashed, but undamaged, fingers free.

We held another planning session and decided to have Kelly pull on the strap hanging from the center while J.C. and I walked the uprights out as far as we could. When we unrolled it as far as it would go, which wasn't nearly as far as we had hoped, I raised the locking bar on my side and started to tighten the knob when everything went to hell. I heard Kelly yell, “I can't hold it!” J.C. somehow had climbed up on the deck rail and was trying to fall down or do a River Dance, I wasn't sure which. I started to try and help Kelly when my end collapsed and soon we were immersed in retracting awning, flying locking bars, and a lot of cussing and yelling. I stood amazed as I watched the awning, still dragging Kelly, clear the table of tools and glasses of ice water, and speedily roll itself up until it hung up on the porch light. J.C. was still doing the River Dance on the 2X6 deck railing, but he was quickly winding down.

While Kelly picked up the tools and cleaned up the broken glass and ice cubes, we surveyed the damage. Probably because we had extended the awning out too far, both locking bars had come apart and somehow fallen out of the uprights and there was no way to put them back without taking everything down and starting over.

We decided to go back to sipping and planning for a while.

Beach Walk

There's nothing like a nice stroll on the beach to get the cobwebs out.
Taz loves to pretend he's chasing the seagulls away even though he's dragging an old man behind him on a retractable leash. The four mile walk from Beaver Creek to Seal Rock and back is enough exercise to tire us out for the rest of the day.

The Fingernail Ordeal

For some time now, Carol has been fighting an infection under two of her fingernails. After trying antibiotics, and having her soak them in Epsom salts with no results, our doctor finally sent us to a plastic surgeon in Corvallis. He told her that the only answer was to surgically remove the nails and then treat the infection with powerful antibiotic and anti-fungal medicine. Carol, shuddering at the thought, over the next few weeks kept trying soaking, and ointments but the infection kept coming back. Last week we drove to Corvallis and she went through the painful operation. On the way home she said the ten pain killer shots they gave her in each hand hurt like hell.

The doctor had instructed her to replace the dressings every day for the first three or four days and after that, every other day. The next morning when we started to remove the bandages, we realized that it wasn't going to be easy. She was still in quite a bit of pain and every time I would bump or tug too hard on the bandage she would let me know in no uncertain terms that it HURT! I tried cutting through the gauze with scissors and gained a little bit, but when we got to the nail beds we could see that the blood had seeped into the bandages and dried.

The doctor had said that we might have to soak them in water to soften the stuck gauze, so we filled a bowl with warm water and she began soaking. By now both of us were nervous wrecks. I was afraid of hurting her and she was in agony from every movement of the hanging bandages. I tried to cut some of the excess off, but the scissors slipped on a wrinkle and yanked part of the stuck gauze loose. Carol started crying and my hands were shaking so hard I couldn't do anything.

We decided to call Tony Mooney, our paramedic friend. He arrived in just a few minutes, and after seeing how much pain Carol was in, and how badly the bandages were stuck to her fingernail beds after an hour and a half of soaking, he dialed the clinic and got an emergency appointment to see doctor Vogelman.

They let Carol right in when we arrived, but even the doctor was stymied. They gave her another bowl of water and she soaked some more while they figured out what to do. Plan A was to give her pain killer shots in her fingers and then just pull the damn bandages off. Thankfully, while they were still planning, the soaking began to work and she was able to finally, slowly pull them free. She opened the door, stuck her hands out and gave them a “Ta Daaa!” They cleaned and re-bandaged her fingers and we went to the drug store for some Telfa no-stick gauze pads and some gauze finger tubing.

The next morning the old bandages came right off, and everything went fine until I tried to slip the gauze tubing over the Telfa pads. Carol remembered the nurse using a metal tube to layer the tubing up and down her fingers but didn't remember exactly how it worked. I found a short piece of plastic pipe about the right size in my workshop, but no matter how we tried we couldn't figure out how to use it. It was starting to get painful and Carol was close to tears again by the time I clumsily got a couple of layers of the tubing pulled on. I decided that the next time I'd do better.

In the morning when Carol said,”OK, Let's get this over with!” I began laying out the equipment. Scissors? Check! Telfa pads? Check! Gauze tubing? Check! Neosporin? Check! I cut pieces of adhesive tape and stuck them on the edge of a jar lid so they'd be easy to get. I unrolled lengths of gauze tubing, cut it, and split the end to make tie strips. Everything was ready, and I had a plan to get the tubing on...

My hands were shaking again, either from the Parkinson's or nerves, I'm not sure which, and things started to go wrong again. I got my finger taped to the Telfa pad and when I pulled it free, she yelped “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” I said while I commenced to tape the finger she was using to hold the pad in place to the other side. “Sorry,” I said again. Finally, we were ready for the tubing. My plan was to slide the first layer on, tie the end strips I'd cut around her wrist, roll it up like a stocking, twist it, and then roll it back down for another layer. It worked! The only problem was that her finger was now about the size of the fat end of a baseball bat! Apparently rolling the tubing stretched it way out of shape. We taped it down to a manageable size and called it good.

This morning things fell together. Carol figured out how to use the plastic pipe to put on the gauze tubing, my hands quit shaking so much and she didn't have to yell”Ouch!” once.

Tremors

Well, after an initial exam by the family doctor, a blood test and an MRI, I was sent to a neurologist in Corvallis. He confirmed what I have suspected for quite some time now, and diagnosed me with Parkinson's Disease. My symptoms aren't bad yet, so he prescribed Selegeline to reduce the tremors in my left hand.

It's an incurable disease but they have medicine that can keep the symptoms under control. I don't plan on it interfering with my fishing, kayaking or writing so I don't see any big changes in the near future.

Old Friends

There must be something sweeter than seeing an old friend for the first time in years, but I don't know what it is.

Gary Ronnow, a good friend we knew when we lived in Las Vegas called and came by the other day right after our weekly barbecue. We sat on the patio and reminisced for hours. He invited us for lunch on Tuesday and after we met at Georgie's Grill in Newport we took up where we'd left off, talking about old times.

We were amazed when we realized that it had been 45 years since we'd seen each other. After our lunch and a couple of beers the waitress was hinting that she needed the table, so we had to take the conversation out to the parking lot where we finally hugged and said goodbye, promising to do a better job of staying in touch.

The picture was taken rabbit hunting in Nevada in the early 60's. What more could you ask for: a blond, a convertible, a gun, a cigarette and a beer!

Jet Boat

I went for a ride Saturday on the Central Oregon Coast Fire and Rescue's new jet boat. What a blast! I know Carol wanted to go but since she was on duty, she decided to stay on shore and watch in case they got an ambulance call.

She should have gone with us. As fast as that boat is, it could have returned her to the parking area in just a few minutes.

It has a 350 cubic inch V8, an upright wheel house and an easy access platform on the stern for swimmers. It can make it from the port dock to the jaws in two minutes flat, which should greatly improve their response time for boats or surfers in distress. It turns on a dime and is very maneuverable.

Taz and Chip

Taz has been busy trying to catch our new house guest, a chipmunk. I guess we'll call him Chip, for want of a better name.

He sure is a gutsy little guy. We first saw him sitting on the fence beside our patio while we were eating lunch. After he scurried away, down the fence, across a small area of the patio and under the deck, Carol put a couple of french fries in his spot and it wasn't long before he was back, chowing down, watching us out of the corner of his eye.

I made a little feeding platform for him and put a handful of wild bird seed on it. I barely got the tools put away before he was on it, packing his cheeks full of seeds. On his way back to stash his groceries, Taz spotted him and the chase was on. To our relief he made to his safe spot under the deck, but instead of laying low for a while he decided to give Taz a “Nyaa Nyaa, you can't catch me!” He ran, upside down back and forth under the deck while Taz went crazy trying to get to him from above.

The next morning Taz was up on the arm of one of the living room chairs barking at the back door. I went to see what he was so exited about and there was Chip sitting on a shelf on the back porch playing with a Yellow push pin. Later I spotted him curled up on one of Taz's teddy bear toys on another shelf.

It's very much like a Tom and Jerry cartoon and I hope, like the cartoons, the little guy always gets away!

Just a Dream

The other night I was dreaming that I was still a little kid and in my bed at the ranch. I heard mom's voice saying, “Bobby, it's time to get up, you'll miss the school bus!” The bed felt so warm and comfortable, I pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep. Then my dad's voice, “Wake up! Wake up! Grr, grr, woof, grrr!

I stuck my head out from under the blankets and there was Taz trying his best to wake me up.

Boom Boom

We spent a lot of time this spring removing the old overgrown and dilapidated fence on the back of our property. I chopped and hacked the Blackberry, Salmon Berry, Morning Glory and Honeysuckle back several feet past the property line to get room to put up a new fence.

Every now and then, buried deep in the brambles, I'd come across the remains of an old tennis ball, the fuzzy green skin almost all gone, the white rubber insides showing through like bleached bone. I picked them up and saved them, putting them in a row on a shelf in the woodshed, not knowing why.

I remembered how Boom Boom used to retrieve those tennis balls, catching them in the air on the first bounce, and strutting his way back to lay it at your feet for another go. My shoulder got so sore from throwing tennis balls I eventually had to get a tennis racquet to keep the game going. Every now and then one of the grandkids or I would hit one a little too hard and knock it over the fence into the bushes. Boomer would run to the fence and go on point to show us where the ball was. Some times we could reach through the thorns, grab it and resume the game but once in a while there was no way to get to it, so we'd go get a new ball. Boom Boom wouldn't have anything to do with it. He'd stay on point, whining, as if to say, “It's right there, I can smell it!” Sometimes he wouldn't accept a new ball until the next day.

Yesterday, while I was getting a wheel barrow out of the wood shed I looked at the row of ruined tennis balls and realized why I'd saved them. I dug a hole next to Boom Booms grave and returned his lost treasures.

Another Beachcomber Days

I can't help it! I love old cars more than I love a parade!
Another Beachcomber Days has come and gone. Kelly, J.C. and I only went to the car show, and went home before the "celebration" started.
Carol worked all morning baking and cooking for the firemen, drove an ambulance in the parade, got a transport to the hospital right after it ended, and was busy all afternoon with a surf rescue call. She came home pooped.
Boy, do I feel like a wimp!

Weather

I guess when you get older, griping about the weather becomes a mainstay in our lives. “That stupid weatherman on channel 8 said it was supposed to be sunny today!” or “ The Yahoo weather forecast on the Internet called for 'partly sunny' in the morning followed by 'partly cloudy' in the afternoon!”

It's easier to just look out the window, and right now my forecast is: “Rain!”

This sure has been a weird winter and spring though. In a colder than usual May we had some late frosts and then all of a sudden a few days later it got up into the 90's for two days. It was like being transported from Alaska to Florida and then back again.

Yesterday we finished up some planting and yard work just in time for this rain to move in. We've also been working on a new fence on the forested side of the yard to keep the dogs in and the Bears, Raccoons and Coyotes out. I got the fence line cleared of Blackberry, Salmonberry, and Honeysuckle vines; pulled out all of the old rotten posts and wire, and set new fence posts. We're waiting for the new wire fencing to come so we can be done with it. At our age, a few hours of hard work a day is enough, so it takes a while to finish anything.

Why we love our dogs.

Well, the hair explosion has eased up a little. There for a while we thought we were going to be buried alive. Brushing, sweeping and vacuuming, we collected enough hair to fill the Grand Canyon and it just kept on coming.
Yesterday we had to go to Corvallis, a trip of about 60 miles. We decided to take Taz along , shedding or not. We spread a blanket in the back to catch some of the hair and started out. About halfway there he barfed. On the way home he did it again. It looks like he gets about 30 mpp. (miles per puke) He even hit the blanket once!

Hair Explosion

This morning on my trek from computer to coffee maker, I noticed wisps of white stuff all over the carpet. I thought Taz had torn the stuffing out of one of his toys again, so I picked most of it up and threw it in the waste basket.

On the next coffee run I found even more. Could Taz be losing his winter coat? Sure enough, when Carol brushed him it looked like a pack of Saint Barnards had been shaved in the living room, but instead of looking any smaller, he was fluffed up even more. I'm afraid to think of how much more hair and fur is getting ready to come out!

We've had a cold winter this year and he evidently was well prepared for it. Now the forecast is for warm weather and I guess we'd better be ready for a slow motion hair explosion.

My Lake

I took advantage of a break in the crappy weather, cleaned the dust and cobwebs off of my kayak, and drug it down the road to Eckman Lake. It felt sooo good to slide it into the water and paddle out on the glassy water. The Ospreys are back from their South American vacation, and were working on their power pole nest, the Canadian Honkers were flying overhead and a Loon was laughing from the other end of the lake. Frogs were peeping and croaking away and I realized how much I missed coming here. I need to get back in the habit of going to my lake at least twice a week.
I fished for a while but mainly just paddled around and relaxed.

Global Warming, my a..!

Boy, here it is a few days away from April and we've been getting hammered with winter like storms. It can be bright sunshine and blue skies one minute and then things start to get dark, clouds move in and it'll either start raining, snowing or hailing. It's been getting down into the 30's at night and a cold wind blows in the daytime. A week ago we thought Spring was here, and so did the plants and trees which all are sprouting new buds. I guess that's what we get for trying to rush Mother Nature.

Happy Day Before Easter

JC, Taz and I went for a nice beach walk yesterday. As usual, Ona beach had changed dramatically. The sand had returned in most places, covering the bed rock and ancient tree roots that the winter storms had exposed on our last visit.

Taz was happy to get out, he was high-stepping all the way through the park, over the Beaver Creek bridge and onto the beach. There were some agate hunters and a few other dog walkers, but not many people for a Saturday morning.

We came across the old redwood stump that has been slowly working its way north with the winter high tides and the south winds. I first came across it 20 years ago about 8 miles south on Tillicum beach where we used to live. It already had countless slabs sawed off of it for coffee tables, and who knows what. Rick and I borrowed a chain saw and cut a gun stock sized slab from it for a gun that I never built. I finally traded it to someone for something, but for the life of me I can't remember who it was or what I traded for. As it works its way up the beach it gets smaller, slab by slab, but it still is impressive. It was high centered on a lava rock outcropping and looked for all the world like a wrecked sailing ship.

There was a weathered sandstone rock face that looked like it had Egyptian hieroglyphics on it, (at least to my imagination,) and we picked up some small agates here and there. There was a good surf and the waves were banging the rocks pretty hard, but we had a hard time getting a picture of it. The four mile walk pooped all three of us out and Taz slept on my coat all the way back to Waldport.

Time keeps on flying, flying...

We celebrated another Saint Patrick's Day pigging out on Carol's delicious corned beef and cabbage, along with some wine and beer. Afterwards, when J.C. And Kelly were leaving, J.C. Said, “That was great Carol, much better than we had last year at the Salty Dawg!” Carol and I both agreed.

Later, while I was thinking about it, I realized that last year we had spent St. Patties Day the same way as this year; at our house. It was two years ago that we had gone to the Dawg for dinner. It made me realize how fast time flies when you're getting old. An entire year had tried to slip from our memories! It seems as though it's only been a few months ago since J.C. Moved here from Las Vegas, towing his little Honda behind a huge U-haul truck, but it's actually been over four years now.

I can remember being a kid in High School, sitting in my last class of the day, watching the wall clock that hung next to the picture of George Washington above the teacher's desk. I swear, a week goes by faster now than it took that damn clock to tick off the last five minutes of the school day.

It seems that I no longer have time to do much, even though I'm not working, don't have any kids to tend to, or any responsibilities to speak of. It's just that time goes by so much faster now! In fact it whizzes by in such a blur that I have a hell of a time remembering what day of the week it is. The other day while I was writing out a check, I had to ask the clerk what the date was, and she replied, “The 16^th.”
“Umm,” I stuttered, “What month?” ...I had the year aced, though.

Carol came up with the analogy of a spool of thread; When you first start pulling the thread, the spool turns slowly. The more you pull off, the faster the spool turns and when you get close to the end it's really cranking. Maybe that's the way time works.

I'm published!

Several months ago I submitted a story to Paddling.net, a kayaking web site that I visit almost every day to read the articles and find out what's new in the sport. I'd forgotten about it until this morning when they emailed me that they'd published my article! They even had their artist draw a picture of me...kind of a younger version of me... with more hair... and without my stash and goatee... Otherwise, a good likeness.

Here's the description of the article and a link to the story:

MisAdventures - Self-Launch!

Never under estimate the advantage of having a boating buddy. This month's MisAdventures story describes the ordeal of trying to do things alone, and the benefit of a caring paddling partner - even if they are three times larger than you. Enjoy a extra-sized laugh in this funny reader submitted article.

Chewy's Dreams

Most of the entries I've made to this blog have been about our puppy, Taz. Since he's so active and full of energy, it's easy to forget about Chewy, our 14 year old Lhasa Apso.

In his old age Chewy is content to spend most of his time sleeping, barking in a falsetto voice with his stubby little legs twitching in his doggy dreams. I've often wondered what he dreams about so I made a few pictures of some possibilities.

Wiley E. and family?

Last night around 11:30 the coyotes started singing. They were so loud I was sure that they were in the back yard, and of course, Taz freaked out. He started barking and growling, shivering and shaking, finally climbing on top of me, woofing and twitching about every minute or so until about midnight when we all finally got back to sleep.

This morning around 9 o'clock I was standing in the back doorway when a police car came up the highway with it's siren wailing. Coyotes started howling, yipping and singing from at least two different spots in the forested area behind the yard. Carol and I both were surprised at how close they were. We've had them come through here before, maybe we'd hear them howling every couple of months or so, but these guys seem to have moved in.

I had turned the electric fence off about a month ago, since the bears are hibernating and Taz won't go near it after he got zapped, whether it's off or on. I'm afraid Taz would be a temptation no self respecting coyote could pass up, so I turned it back on.

Brush Pile

Boy Howdy!

We finally got a break in the stormy weather, and it sure feels good!

Monday we had our weekly barbecue outside for the first time in a long time. Kelly grilled steaks and it was actually comfortable sitting out on JC's deck, until the sun got behind the old growth fir and hemlock trees on the south side of his house.

Yesterday Carol and I got some yard work done, trying to clean up the mess the winter storms left behind. It's kind of cloudy this morning but the forecast looks good through the weekend. Maybe now we can accomplish some of the outside projects that have been on hold because of the crappy weather. We have a huge amount of fallen tree limbs and knocked down bushes to cut up and burn. It should make a heck of a bonfire!

Carol finally licked the bad cold she's been fighting for two weeks, (with the help of an expensive prescription - seven pills for $97.00!) She started back on duty this morning at 6 and popped a call at 7:15 and another around 10. Then she went down to the fire station to work out on their exercise equipment; I think she's feeling better!

Sunny Day!

What's that bright light? Up there in the sky! Ow! it hurts my eyes!

The sun actually came out this morning, so JC, Taz and I went for a long overdue beach walk.

As usual, Ona beach has changed completely from the last time we were there, the high surf has uncovered some prehistoric tree stumps along with an ancient peat bog. They've been preserved by being buried in the sand and are thousands of years old, the result of a massive earthquake and tsunami, which dropped an entire forest into the surf and then covered it over.

The sand at the north end of the beach was all gone exposing the bedrock and several agate beds. I forgot my camera but JC took some nice pictures of Taz and I. Taz seemed to enjoy getting out as much as we did, I'm sure he gets cabin fever too.

Carol and I went over to JC's this afternoon to get copies of the pics he took and have a few glasses of wine. It's already clouding over for the next storm system to come through, but it sure was a great morning!

Taz's First Snow

This morning when Taz and I went out for our morning constitutional, we were greeted by an inch of fresh snowfall. The same thought occurred to both of us as we stepped out onto the clean, white lawn. Let's write our names in the snow! Unfortunately I hadn't taken my daily Saw Palmetto pill yet, so I could only manage my initials.

Taz needs writing and spelling lessons but he certainly wrote for a while, possibly his name, address, phone number and zip code. He's got to learn how to spread his writing out though, so it's more readable.

At first he wasn't too sure about that cold white stuff on the ground, but when he realized it was fun to play in, he spent the rest of the morning either running and playing outside or begging to go back out for some more.

Carol's been sick with a bad cold and is just now starting to recover. She's been pretty much down and out for 3 days, coughing, with a headache, sore throat and dizziness. So far I'm OK, but I usually get any bug that comes anywhere near me, so I'm just waiting for it to hit.

The Barclay Baths

The other day we were reminiscing about the stained glass window and marble coffee tables we had that came from the the depths of Larimer street in the 1960's. It was along time ago and it took us a while to remember the details, but here is the story.

Cold enough to freeze the eyeballs off a brass frog!

Compared to most places we haven't had it too bad, but it still has been one of the coldest winters I can remember on the coast. This morning it's 29 degrees, which is the coldest it's been all winter; the problem is that it's been in the mid 30's almost every night for months, and the days have been cold even if the sun does peek out, which has been seldom. It's just been downright uncomfortable unless you're standing in front of the fireplace.
We've been lighting a fire every morning and keeping it going most of the day. We're going through the woodpile way too fast and we'll have to buy some more wood if we can find anyone to get it from.
I sure hope we have an early spring.

Mole Killer

We've found a new, unexpected ally in our constant war against the local Moles. Trapping has been a slow, but sometimes effective way to keep them from their goal, which is undermining the whole backyard until it becomes a miniature Carlsbad Caverns. Lately the mounds have been reappearing and it's too darn rainy and muddy to set a trap.

This morning looking out through the kitchen window, Carol noticed Taz acting strangely. He was attacking, pouncing, grabbing, shaking and throwing something, acting like a wild Fox or a Coyote.

She went out to see what was going on and was amazed to see that he had killed a Mole! It wasn't a very big one, but Taz isn't very big, either. The rain had probably flooded it out of its burrow. Taz was still growling and shaking it when I went out to take his picture.

I guess this makes up for the other night when the Coyotes were yapping and howling; he got so scared he wouldn't even go outside alone. Then he had bad dreams that made him shake and quiver like he was on a vibrating bed.

Maybe the odd combination of breeds in his parentage make him a Mole Hound!