A Few Things in March

 The rain total to date is 7.1 inches, so the couple of storms we had in March helped a little.

My car turned 34567. A thrill to be sure but even better this grand occasion happened out on a country road at one of favorite houses.

Silas is doing a drum roll.

There is this magazine slash gas station slash buy your lottery ticket and junk food type places in town. I'm kind of a magazine junkie, just so you know. I once asked them to carry Bust magazine, but the women thought I meant a girlie rag. Uh no

Artificial Meat and Mags

More Meat and Mags

 Clouds are too few and far in-between that I must take pictures. The local goat said hello!

My cat has the prettiest feet.

Cheers to the Five Year Mark!

A Nice Sauternes and Salad

Here's to Judy's Notebook, a five-year old blog about nothing in particular. Here's to everyone who has followed this blog, which I consider an anchor to my other blogs, which are many. Here's to everyone who has unfollowed this blog, just to prove I'm not spiteful, even though I am, traders. Here's to being a columnist to 25,000 people per week, then becoming a blogger to a few people per month, ouch. Here's to starting then stopping then starting then stopping then starting this blog. Here's to not dying along the way. Here's to all you crazy Snapple Rain affectionados. Here's to Googling Snapple Rain and seeing my photos in the number one and two spots on the Google images. Here's to my favorites bloggers, listed on the left side, the list may have changed over the years but I still love you all. Here's to trying new things right here like GoodReads or starting a book club or Twitter or Tumblr, which I still love, and thank you, you know who you are, for introducing me to these fun activities. Here's to my first post, not much really, but has totally reminded me of my wood rat, so sad, and how much work it was to live out at the ranch. And finally here's to Silas, who should probably have his own fan club, his own limo, and his own personal chef, oh wait, he does have his own chef, that would be me.

xoxo
Judy

The Mermaid Moving Company or Just Iron Stars On My Boobs

I was looking around at my vast photo collection for a picture of a friend who has just entered the "Facebook World" and I found this little lovely mermaid. Isn't she sweet?

Or maybe she's in agony.

Anyway. I knew that this mermaid picture made it onto a blog o'mine, somewhere. I KNEW it! Turns out that I can forget what I had for dinner last night, but I'm right on about my blog photos. Only it takes me forever to find anything. And...
I always find what I'm not looking for.

Such was the case for the missing iron. I haven't ironed in many moons, my friend. But I'm off on an exciting new adventure that involves sewing, and an iron is imperative.

I looked where I thought the iron should be and found the ironing board. I quickly made cotton candy of the ironing pad. Did you know the ironing pad doesn't wash well? Well, it doesn't. That's okay. I can buy a new one. But where is that darn iron?

I know myself - unfortunately. I know that wherever the iron is, it is in its own box. If I put it in another box, say a box within a box, then it is lost. But I don't usually do this. So I know myself - fortunately.

And I move a lot - across town or new town. Not every year (at least not anymore), but maybe a few times every ten years. Thus I am never organized. eerr-umm. Let me say: I am a Taurus. I like stuff. My stuff means something to me. I take my stuff with me. My stuff was once a car-full, then a small truck-full, then a small U-Haul-full, then a large U-Haul. Now a large (not-so) professional moving company full.

So getting back to the iron. I got my aerobic exercise searching every damn closet in this house - even under the bathroom sink. Finally in the kitchen closet where the light bulbs and vacuum bags are kept, I paused.

Where did I put the iron at the old ranch house? Ding! Above the washer and dryer. Yes!

ps the guy on the phone is calling his wife. "Bring out the El Dorado, honey. With lots of rope!" Seriously. That's what he said.

Girl Power!

I was writing my other blog earlier about bento leftovers and I thought of why not include a picture of the old ranch house where I used to live. So I went tripping down memory lane looking at hundreds of pictures trying to find the best one. I didn't find it, but I found this.

It's really hard to tell, but the group of buildings to the right are my house and some outbuildings like the wood shed and carport, and the buildings to my other right are ranch outbuildings to house tractors and trucks. The central area is where the ranchers hold their replacement heifers.

This is ridiculous! Hold on a moment!

Better? Better. This is only one area of a huge working cattle ranch in Monterey County. Not milk or meat but stock, as in baby cows. And when the mother cow can't mother no more, she is replaced. Hence replacement heifers.

When I first moved out there (just me and Si), the cowboys had just brought in a bunch of new girl cows. (You can imagine the jokes.) The cowboys brought in truck load after truck load and put them in the corral and left for the night. The girls screamed all night long and the next day I came out to say Hello!

 Hello!

Well Hello There!

Looking South-South East

All the way at the top!

Rico Wildfire July 2006

First Day

Second Day

Third Day

Too close and the very real possibility of morning winds brought out the sheriffs (at 3am) to warn us of evacuation. In the end we didn't have to, but a lot of people up valley did. I'm pretty sure I've blogged about this before, although I can't find it. The fire plume was spectacular in the first few days, then it was pure smokiness.

Go to skyley dot blogspot dot com to see photos from around the world!

Remembering The Rico Wildfire of 2006

As the bushfires have devastated many communities in southeastern Australia, my heart goes out to my Aussie posse blog friends. 

  

Australia is experiencing a summer very similar to what California had last year with the heat and the wildfires, some that were set by arsons. It makes me wonder just what goes through an arson's mind as he or she starts a fire. Is it a power trip? Could it be sexual? I remember a story of a fire chief who started a fire because he needed the work. And there is always the stories about the lost hiker in the wilderness that sets a signal fire that goes out-of-control.

  

When I lived out at the ranch, the Rico wildfire of July 2006 burned about 25 square miles. It was started, like about 50% of wildfires, by a lightening strike and burned all night. The next morning it looked like up valley was filled with very dense fog, but no, it was smoke. All day long horse trailers came down the road and fire crews went up the road. Rumors claimed the fire was contained. The official fire website said not even close. It hadn't jump the summit. Still a comfortable ways away. At dusk, they closed the road in front of my house.

  

That's when that first "oh shit" feeling stepped in. Wild fire is wild. Humidity, wind speed, luck of the draw, all come home to roost. Of all natural disasters, fire ranks up there for me. Earthquakes can be scary fun to just plain scary, but they are always on my mind. Whenever I go into a building, I design an escape plan. This works for me. Landslides and flooding are avoidable. I would never live in an area that has landslides, mudslides, or near the flood plain, thanks to my college education and a couple of really wet years in the early 80s. But fire, fire makes my knees shake.

  

So when my neighbor a few miles up the road told me the fire has jumped the road at the summit, I screamed (internally) Oh My God! I went out and looked up the road and saw flames. First rule of a wildfire, am told, if you can see flames, it's time to leave. I didn't leave. I started watering. Later that night, the sheriffs woke me with an evacuation notice. They said get your animals out now. They said by dawn, if the wind picks up, the fire could be here in minutes. So, because I was the only one living at the ranch (besides a couple hundred of cows), I called the owner and the foreman with the news. 

  

Heavy equipment on trailers were now going around the "road closed" sign and up the road. Ranchers up valley were going to stay and fight it by clearing bush and trees around their homes. This isn't recommended. In fact, there is a reason the sheriffs came to my door. Not just to tell me about the evacuation plan, but to see how willing I would be to go along with it. People who live in the county all their lives are somewhat independent, to say the least, and the last thing the sheriffs want to contend with is some old biddy clinging to her front porch screaming "I won't leave!" while trees around the house explode into flames. 

  

And btw trees explode into flames during a wildfire. Imagine lighting a match. How it curls up into that tear shape flame. Now imagine a Digger Pine 200 feet tall full of sap lighting all at once. It is probably one of the biggest jaw dropping things you can ever witness. I sure am going on about this, but for ten years I lived on top of a dead grassy hill around some old Blue Oaks and worried like crazy about fire. The hill was too steep to mow, and the property was known as Fort Windy. The house was 2 story with one entrance/exit on the second floor with a dry old wooden staircase and deck on front. If a fire climbed that hill, we'd be toast. And there was always some idiot down in the valley burning his trash or BBQing on the hottest day in the summer. 

  

So yeah, fire concerns me, and I like to think that where I live now is one of the safest. But I know that whole communities can be burnt to the ground anytime anywhere.

Random Photo Photostory Phriday

The time has come the walrus said. I remember the first day I had my camera. The UPS guy threw a package over the fence. I went out to investigate and discovered it was for me, and it was a camera! A mighty Casio Exilm point and shoot with a cradle to download and recharge. A nifty package, to be sure. Thanks Dad!  

Me and my camera, we became inseparable. I promptly lost the instruction manual and had to figure it out by going through the menus. I probably would have done it that way anyway. I discovered I could shoot movies and download to iMovie and add music and swipes and titles and credits, and then I discovered the whole world knew how to do this and there was this place called YouTube, and boy, are there some freaky people out there!

  

So I shelved YouTube and concentrated on capturing everyday life with photography. The above photo was a random pick of all of this year's snaps. I had to stare at it for a long time to figure it out. Finally I had to look at some photos that were shot before and after to get the whole story.

  

Started to snow on my way home from work last January.
Snow at my front gate.
I got so excited. I ran down to the river. Light was getting low.
Came back to my house, went inside and hung my hat. Hey! It sparkles! The saying in the frame says, "A cat is so nice come home to." 

Except when he's grumpy.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Wishing For White But Will Settle

I took many photos when I lived at the old ranch. I loved the quiet mornings and weekends when I was the only one around for miles. I could hear the river calling me to collect rocks, to admire its beauty. I would rush out the door with my camera and a cup of coffee, and scare up a pack of wild pigs. It was so peaceful. Like snowfall. Like an old barn with a dusting of snow.

I had read about Amanda's first snow and identified with that childlike feeling. Back in March of 06, I remembered a morning I woke to reflective white light that made me feel like a army of angels had lightly touched down and encircled my house. I felt so blessed to be alive to witness.

Most years we don't get any snow days. But when we do, I act silly romping around, building snow people, and making snow angels.

Snow, as one of MN friends did say, was lovely in the beginning, tedious throughout, and a slushy dirty mess at the end where you couldn't wait to be rid of it. Where I live, beginning middle and end could be all in one day. So unless I want to go to the mountains for a snow experience, I must scoop up the moment.  

  

We could use some weather around here. Too warm for snow though. I'll settle for rain. When I looked out the window this morning, I saw a vail of brown haze hiding the distant view of the hills. Brown haze from the fires of late that is being pushed around by valley or coastal fog, yet it does not want to blow on through. 

  

So I chanted to the weather gods, rain, rain, RAIN! Any amount will do. Just some precip to clean the air. 

  

Yessireebob! Rain is in the forecast!

Click and Clack: Photostory Friday

Meet Click and Clack, formerly my Andalusian goats.  

  

I was driving down a country road. On my way back from an early Saturday dump run, I was planning my day and what to do next. Much to my surprise four young skinny goats with curly horns stood side by side in the middle of the road. I slowed and drove around them. As I did I lower my window and said, "Hey! Where did you guys come from?" The cattle were behind the fence but not the goats.

  

As if my voice was the activator necessary, the four goats started moving towards me and my little Honda. I was a little startled and sped up a tiny bit. Now in a single line they were following me up the barely two lane country road. I sped up a little more, and they broke into a gallop. This freaked me so I stomped on it. Over the hill I went leaving them in the dust.

  

My first thought is that they had to be someones pets. There were obviously used to humans. But I soon found out. They were raised (farmed) by humans to be a trophy for a paying hunter. Kind of like shooting fish in a barrel. This made me cry.

  

I wanted to save them. I wanted to corral them in my yard and let them eat my lawn. But I didn't. It wasn't my business.

  

I didn't see the goats after that. I looked for them, but they never did reappear on that road.

  

One day my friend, who rented the dairy barn house on the ranch, and I were sitting in his kitchen. The dairy barn house sits on 80 acres and the land is leased to an old rancher for grazing his small herd. The cows often walk within feet of the house as they come and go for water.

  

We were having our usual after work glass of wine and fried pot stickers when I glanced out the window. There they were the goats mixed with the cattle munching on grass. I was beside myself.

  

"Those are the goats I was telling you about," I said. "Where are the other two?"

  

He said he had only seen two and that the old rancher didn't like them because they freaked out the cows. The goats had been an experiment with the hunt club. But the hunt club couldn't contain the goats on the ranch land. The fences weren't high enough and the goats wanted to be with the cows. Can't very well go hunting goat around cattle, can we now?

  

So one day shortly thereafter, the old rancher corralled the goats in my friend's horse corrals. The hunters would auction them off soon, the old rancher said. 

  

Well, "soon" is a relative term, and "soon" didn't come very quickly. The hunters forgot about them and the goats became mangy and undernourished. 

 

So I did the only decent thing I could do. I fed them. 

  

They became pets, Click and Clack. They would wag their tails when they saw me or my friend. They liked treats like corn chips and grapes. They would vocalize for attention trying to show each other up.

  

But after a month or two, they weren't was happy. They were frustrated being unable to roam around free as they had been doing for over a year. So they started to charge at the small building in the corral area and they started charging at each other. It was frightening to see them charge at full force and smash their horns in a head on collision. 

 

I suggested we set them free and hope for the best. My friend was worried that the hunters would get angry. We could lie, I said, say we didn't know how they got out.

 

Click and Clack got lethargic. One developed a nasty cough. One wouldn't eat unless you threw table grapes to within inches of his nose. It was getting pretty desperate. 

  

Then one day when my friend was out of town and I was checking his house and feeding the goats, and I came home from work and the goats were gone. All the gates wide open. Indeed they were auctioned off.

  

To what end I had no idea. Another hunting group, I thought. So sad. 

  

Fast forward another year. I was driving down a country road. There is a little hay field in a valley on one side with some out buildings and two old country cottages on the other. Wispy smoke is coming out of the chimneys. From a distance I see a draft horse standing by a shed. Upon closer view, two big horn goats were there too. Could it be Click and Clack? It is Click and Clack!!!!! standing side by side by the draft horse.

  

More tears. This time for happiness.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Crash of the Honda: Photostory Friday

In 2006 me and my Honda, a 1980 Accord, were zipping down a country road when we hit a bump in the newly paved road and the right rear tire caught the outside edge of the road putting me in a tail spin. I flew off the road, went under the barbed wire fence and slammed into a metal pole. This is the same area where I took a picture of the elks one day.

  

I waited in the car for twenty minutes honking my horn in increments of three, the standard SOS signal, and finally a FedEx truck materializes. I asked the two gentlemen if they would kindly go to the nearest farm house and tell the old woman who lives there that "Judy crashed her car. Please dial 911." The area is too remote for cell service. The FedEx guys wanted to do their delivery first. I insisted. They obliged. 

  

Minutes later the hunters showed up. Then the ranch manager. Then the neighbors. Then the cops in the helicopter. You see, the old woman in the farm house has a two-way radio too. The whole ranch and most the town folk who live 25 miles down the road knew that Judy crashed her car. 

  

I was the joke of the day. "Don't pull a Judy!" ha ha "Hey Judy, ever met a ditch you didn't love?" ho ho "Judy's a ditch divin' woman!" hee hee  Small town country folk can be so mean. 

But I took it in stride with my new ride

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

On My Desk: Charm Stone & Shark Tooth

The charm stone is polished jasper from the Big Sur coast. The shark tooth was found on a hike at the old ranch. The fabric says to me "I like to sew!" 

On My Desk is hosted by Kirsty with the mostest.

Six Random Things About Si

A while back Alicia of Shoot For Eternity fame tagged her blogging buds (of which I am) to participate in six random things about "me me." Now this old horse has been around the block a few times and random just might be my middle name, so why not share with you random happiness about my cat. Oh why not?

  

1. The blue belly lizard (pictured above on the top of our sliding glass screen door) is Si's new buddy. Hours upon hours he watches the reptile jump and scamper all over the window screen. Sometimes Si will press his face against the screen and the lizard will jump on it. Si doesn't appear to be "hunting" it just like he didn't hunt the dozens of mice that lived with us out at the old ranch. No Si doesn't hunt. Hunting is a learned activity for cats that is usually taught by the mother, and Si was thought to be abandoned at birth (along with his sister) and was "rescued" and raised by a friend of mine. In fact, I petted Si when he was one day old. He was three inches long and his eyes were still closed. 

  

2. Si's other best buddy is Sylvia, a stuffed mountain lion approximately the same size he is. I bought her at the local zoo for a Christmas present figuring he might be a bit lonely since he is an only cat. I was right. He drags her around the house following me from room to room.

  

3. Si burps out of the side of his mouth.

  

4. He will chase and retrieve dried pasta known as Rigatoni. Seriously. I can stand at one corner of the great room (which used to be called the living room and dining room combined) and say, "Go long! Go long!" And he'll take off running. Retrieve the thrown pasta and drop it back at my feet. I must video tape this

  

5. He has separation anxiety when I leave for work, so sometimes he gets really huffy and attacks me. I have to back out of the house. Literally walk backwards. He will only attack if I turn my back. (I have separation anxiety leaving him too. I compensate for it by giving him crackers. He likes saltines.)

  

And finally the 6th random thing about Si is He Saved My Life. And everybody who knows the story says I should write a book about it. Maybe I will. 

  

Now, here's to you. Would you like to share your (current or past) pet stories? 

A Few New Favorites

I've added two new favorites, Joana in Portugal and Ellen in Ireland, to the ever growing list on your right. Both have Etsy shops too. 

  

Etsy is a fun place to look around and without spending a fortune (unless you want to, that is), you can find neat handmade gifts, lovely photos, charming vintage and more. And yes! I have an Etsy shop too. But there isn't anything in it - yet.

Happy Autumn to all!

Nothing Is Quite As Exhilarating

As being chased around the garden by a tarantula hawk. I must resemble the biggest tarantula ever seen, or perhaps this insect just wants to dance with me. I'm not sure.

A tarantula hawk is a wasp, a very large wasp. The first time I saw one, I thought it was a hummingbird buzzing along about 10 feet above the ground.

When I finally figured out what they were, I became concerned. Nothing like a little knowledge to wreck your day.

Wasps and spiders have a unique relationship, and if you ever need to stay up in the wee, wee hours, I recommend finding a good picture book on the subject.

Yellow jacket wasps have stung me twice: once when I was 5 and again about 10 years ago. Being an adult did not make me scream any quieter.

This is an experience to avoid at all costs.

So I give to you a small nugget of free advice: Never stay at a campground called Yellow Jacket Camp.

"Gee, honey," I said. "Isn't this great! We have the whole campground to ourselves."

And then we fried up a steak, and 500 of our closest neighbors invited themselves over for dinner.

He said, "I read somewhere that all you have to do to get rid of them is put a little piece of meat downwind, and they'll leave you alone."

Moments later, reinforcements showed up.

We swatted a few like we meant business. That's fine, the yellow jacket swarm might have replied. They eat their dead, too.

So into the tent I went, zipped up tight for the remainder of our short visit to the memorable Yellow Jacket Camp.

I accept wasps as a part of the package here in North County, even though they scare me. Just like I accept the threat of fire here in the middle of summer when everything looks like a tinderbox.

I'll tell you though, nothing makes my knees shake like spotting a smoke plume in close proximity. Nothing.

Last week, for example, my man called me at work to tell me not to be concerned when I see the cloud of smoke.

"The fire is south of us," he said calmly. "I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't worry."

So zooming home, I rounded the first bend exposing the big sky to the south, and there it was.

This was no puff of smoke. This was huge.

Don't worry, I told myself. He told me not to worry. But, I thought, that was half an hour ago. It could have spread. So now I'm zoom-zooming down the road.

And the closer I get, the more ominous it looks.

At twilight, the cloud enveloped the sky above our home. It was miles away and right next to us at the same time.

I don't know how it started. I have no details at all. But I do have a suggestion. A lot of fires are started by carelessness. A cigarette thrown from a vehicle, an unattended barbecue or an unscreened fireplace or the clearing of dead weeds in the middle of the day, and a spark occurs.

Nobody wants to deal with a fire, so let's be careful and save our excitement for an event that really matters when it is sweltering.

That's right, the Fair opens soon. See you there.


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Moving Forward

That will teach me…I did this beautiful Saturday morning blog and POOF! Blogger just crapped out on me. So this time I’ll write in Word and paste it. Dang it though. Sometimes words only come right once.

So anyway – Happy Saturday to you all!
I’m getting back into the blog-O-mania after lurking quite a bit at Alicia’s blog and others. Thank you Alicia for the E is for excellence award. You’re the sweetest!

My life has been pretty busy lately. I’ve left the big old ranch for a new ranch, and I couldn’t be happier. I know I loved that old house, but it did have a few problems like bad water and mold, and the hunters and the poachers, and it was impossible to keep clean, and it was impossible to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

So I’m quite happy to say I now live in a brand new 3 bed/2 bath house with a huge kitchen (with a dishwasher!!!) and oodles of space for a garden. The view in all directions goes on for miles too. I can’t believe my good fortune.

So this year I’m going to try and grow all my own vegetables and rid myself of megamart produce. If I have surplus, I’ll get into preserving too. It will be a fun project, besides the cost of groceries is just plain ridiculous.

I feel a great surge of energy too. Yesterday I baked a loaf of whole wheat bread, and today I’m going to sort out the pantry and the linen closest, plus I’m still unpacking.

We spring forward this weekend too. I really think time changes are nonsense. It takes my body a week to adjust. Oh well, that’s my gripe for this beautiful day.

My Name Is Larry

Larry has never been ridden. He's too young. And like any animal who has never been "broke," Larry is spirited and wild. When I go out to water the garden, Larry "talks" to me by snorting and whinnying.  

A couple of Sundays ago, Larry's buddies, Walter, Buggs, and Hooper, all went for rides with their humans, but Larry had to stay behind, and he let me know that I could be his human if I just let him out to gallop in the green fields. I wish I did.

Larry with the eyes so blue. I hope you always stay a little wild.

A Conversation With Dad

Ring-ring, the telephone woke me up.
Barely able to get out “hello,” I answered.
At the other end I heard my father’s voice. He was just checking in with me, as he likes to do these days.
“Did I wake you Honey?” He asked.
“That’s okay,” I said, “just sleeping a little late today.”
“So how was your day yesterday?” He asked.
Worthy of a few pictures, I told him, but unfortunately I left my camera at home.
I was up and out early for a morning meeting. The air was crisp as an apple, I told him, and the dawn was beautiful.
“Then,” I said, “I thought I saw a large deer cross the road, but it really didn’t look like at deer at all.”
In fact, the animal was too big and the wrong color, and I just knew it wasn’t a deer.
I stopped the car and watched the animal with fuzzy antlers cross the road.
“I think it was an elk,” I said.
“Wow!” Dad replied.
It went over the fence along with five girl elks, and they ran up the valley away from the dirt road stopping only once to look back me.
“As big as horses, Dad,” I said.
That’s amazing!” Dad said.
I continued my story. After the meeting I went to the car shop for an oil change. I thought I’d be in and out in a half-an-hour, but that wasn’t the case.
“They found a huge rat’s nest in my engine,” I told him.
You just wouldn’t believe how intricate it was. Made with all sorts of materials like burlap, lint, strips of paper, dried clippings from the rose bush, and sage weed.
I told Dad the service technician didn’t seem too thrilled to stick his hands in there and pull it all out.
“Who could blame him,” Dad said.
“I bet that rat couldn’t believe her good fortune,” I said, “finding such a warm dry place to nest for the winter.”
“Oh my,” Dad said. “What are you going to do to keep them out?”
“Don’t know,” I said. “Maybe lift the hood every few days.”
As it turned out, no wires or tubes were chewed through, and the car runs fine.
“Well, honey,” Dad said, “sounds like you had quite a day, but I’m glad it wasn’t the other way around.”
I paused.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“Well,” he said, “you could have seen a herd of rats cross the road and an elk could have made a nest in your car.”
I paused.
“Oh Dad!”
We both laughed.

Cow Paparazzi!

Cows can be kind of scary sometimes. That single-mindedness mob mentality "I love cowboys in pickup trucks" adoration. So it was probably my own darn fault (wearing a cowboy hat) on Christmas Eve Day when we took a little drive around the Ranch.  

See that little hill up behind the cows, well we decided to climb it, and when we did, all the cows were mere black specks way way up there in the mouth of the canyon. 

As we were strolling back down to the truck, he said to me, "Oh look! We have company!" And I looked over to my right, down the side of the hill, and about a half a dozen young cows were trotting after us, only about 25 yards away. 

So what do you do when you see major tonnage galloping after you?

RUN! 

And to the truck I did. Grasping for breath as I jumped in and grabbed my camera.

It was Cow Paparazzi!

We were surrounded. Could barely move down the road... One was even licking the truck!

But when we finally broke free of the gathering, this one gave us an earful. 

"HAY!"