My lettuce seeds are sprouting!

See? Look very closely and you can see the little lettuce sprouts!

People watching...

Sitting at the Safeway. Waiting for my prescription. Watching people. 

Some are easy. Queen bee. Strolling smoothly through the store at top speed, flowing dress, had held high, looking directly forward. At least 200 lbs of blond elegance. Everything about her says she knows what she wants and where she's going. I would move out of her way. Then I hear a small male voice, about 6 feet behind her. I look around. No one else there. He's talking right to her back. Hustling to keep up. Cute, mid-sized sized guy with longish hair. I hear him say, "Well, do you need anything else?"  He is definitely her page, although that may not be his official household title.

Ah. There's a young girl walking up to the store with her head buried in her smartphone. I doubt she's checking her shopping list. Probably chatting on a different continent. Or updating her "status" on Facebook, "Picking up groceries at the Safeway." Or texting her roomies, "u need anything at Sway?" To which she'll receive the return text, "yeah, pu milk!" after she gets back in the car and is on her way home.

Another hetero couple. The boss lady and her beast of burden editing the store. He's in the front, pushing the fully laden shopping cart. She's following, 2 or 3 feet behind, checking the list, putting the wallet away, etc. Another linear, no-eye-contact couple. Interesting dynamics.

  

Slow moving....

Hmmm.... What does it mean when you are tired? Not sad, not really happy, kind of content. But don't really want to talk to people. About much. I mean the usual folks. The kids, the sister, the aunt, etc. Just want to take a break and do what's here in front of me. Sleep. Pet the dog. Go to a Hawaiian language class. O  Kukana koʻu inoa. My name is Susan. It's a slow-moving class. Start my garden. Plot number 2 was ready for seeds today. But then I felt woozy and realized that I hadn't had breakfast yet. Put my tools away and went inside to eat some eggs. Seed planting will happen another day. That's okay. 

Now I'm tired, so I'm posting my reflections, putting my iPad away, and closing my eyes. I can do that, too. Life is good.

My garden starts to take form!

Slowly..... And sorely.... An hour or so on days I am home, I am working on what will be the vegetable garden. 

My homestead farmer friend came over the other day and helped me build my first grow box. Here's a photo:

You can't see what's inside, but it's layers of organic material. In a few weeks, I will be able to plant things in it. I will likely use this one for pumpkins. The livestock and our family can eat a lot of pumpkin! And plot number one is almost ready for seeding:

 But I guess I'm going to pass on the "humped" rows. My garden advisor (aka homestead farmer friend) advised against the raised rows because they will contribute to increased soil dry-out. Oops. Ok, I'll flatten out and plant tomorrow. These plots, being shallow, will be used to grow lettuce, spinach, chard, collards and similar vegetables that don't require deep soil.

Wish me luck!

Today is my birthday!

Today is my birthday. I had a wonderful day! Why? I don't know, really. But I had no big expectations from anyone, felt no big obligations, and received so much more than I ever expected.

I started my day eating breakfast in the car. It was very spicy leftover Thai food from my birthday dinner the night before. Chili in my food is warming and friendly, and I love having the freedom to eat what I want for breakfast. Plus it was beef, which is really a good way for me to start the day. Mmmmm...

We got to bridge early, had a pleasant game, came in second in our division, and made our second trip to the DMV, getting out of there in a remarkable 30 minutes! (Yes, with new plates for the car.)

Then, all day long, my phone vibrated with numerous birthday wishes, from friends, daughters, on Facebook, in text messages, voicemail, etc. I felt no pressure to resold, I just let all the wonderful good wishes flow over me. 

A good friend gave me a dozen bottles for my kombucha tea for my special day, and another gave me a marvelous frog boot cleaner for my porch door.

Then to end my perfect day, I polished off the rest of the Thai food!

All is well on my world and I feel loved. Thank you, all of you, who contributed to my day with your wishes, thoughts and other special gifts!

A good laugh before I sleep.....

I have probably mentioned our cuddle dog. She's a bit large for a cuddle dog, at 60 lbs., But smaller than our 90-lb husky. Anyway, she just lays where she wants sometimes, even if we are already in that spot. For example, tonight, we got in bed, and Pat moved her to a neutral area. After 5 secs she got up and laid on my feet. Right on top of them. I was working on my iPad, Pat went to sleep, and now, a few minutes later (ok 15), I say, the dog is still on my feet. Pat grunts. Oh, is she awake? I'll keep talking. "My toes are numb." I say. To which she sleepily mumbles, "I'll take you to a neurologist." I start to say something before I start laughing hysterically." As opposed to, say, moving my feet out from under the dog? And who can think of a word like 'neurologist' in their sleep anyway?!?

Sheesh...I live in a sitcom; the humor is never far away.

The DMV Story

If you don't want to hear yet another story about the inefficiency of governmental offices, the waste of tax payers money and the motivation/intelligence of some government employees, don't bother reading this issue.

The name of the office has been omitted to protect, well, me. And to avoid hurting anyone's feelings who may be a dedicated public servant. 

First, some positive advice based on my experience. If you have a local, small-town office, do what you can there. At our local office, we can make an appointment, no waiting, they tell us what to bring and what it will cost in advance, and work with us toward accomplishing the goal.

Quite a different experience at the "big-city", full-service office two hours away. (Big city being relative.) Two signs greet you in several places as you arrive. The first: "Cash or check only. No debit or credit cards." Say what?!? Who carries their checkbook these days? We wanted to change from regular plates to VA plates. We knew the registration would be less, because Pat is 100% disabled. What we didn't know was how much less. "Is there an ATM on site," we ask. "No," answers the helpful lady, "The closest one is down at the Tesoro station." We take stock of our cash. $90 and change. Decide to wait to find out the price before driving to the Tesoro station. Our first big mistake. We try to walk into the door and are immediately stopped by the Door Guard. I assume that is her job title because, as far as I could tell, her only job was to keep people from entering without going over to the podium and checking in with the Number Person. Her only job appeared to be assigning numbers to arriving customers and making sure they were at the correct place for their business. If I were trying to streamline the process (and in the process reduce cost by eliminating a job), appropriate placement of the podium, or installation of a buzzer-operated door would do the trick. In addition, it IS a little off-putting to be chased down and questioned when trying to enter a public building.

Anyway, we received our number and we were told to go in and get in line. The "line" is really interesting at this office. The good news is... ..you don't have to stand, as you do in many government offices. You get to sit. But.... even though you have a number, which they can call, you cannot sit just anywhere. You sit at the end of the line in the appropriate row of chairs (there are two rows). Then you move up through the line by getting up and moving to the next chair. All they need is music and it could be a game. However, we had the questionable good fortune to be grabbed by Jay, on his way in from somewhere, as he said, "I'll take you at Window 2." Yay! Something going our way! (Little did I know....)

Then I read Sign #2 more closely. "No commercial vehicles or dealerships during the lunch hour 11 AM - 1 PM". Between the obvious grammar issues and ambiguous meaning, this sign gave me a bit to ponder while I waited.

We explained to Jay that we wanted to get VA plates and Pat was disabled, and therefore qualified for the discount. We inquired what the discount would be, to determine at this early time if the drive to the Tesoro would be required. He said, "Hmm, I don't know. I've never done one of these before. I'll have to go check with my supervisor." He disappears for 10 minutes in the back, then returns. He patiently explains that we need a letter from the VA stating that she is disabled. She shows him the paperwork she brought in that the VA mailed to her that states service-connected disability 100%. He says he needs to check with his supervisor again and disappears in the back for another 10 minutes. Upon his return, his asks where she got that form because it looks like she just printed it off a computer. It doesn't look like a letter. (I guess it didn't say "Dear Master Sergeant," on the top and "Yours truly, The Veterans Administration" on the bottom! She answered, "No, it was mailed to her, with some other documents." After more consultation, he came out and explained the process he wanted us to follow. We were to renew our current registration, which doesn't expire until the end of the month, and then pay a small transfer fee to trade them in for VA plates. Then we'd get the discount when we renewed the plates next year. That doesn't make any sense at all. If we exchange them first, we can renew them at the discounted price! And that's what we said. Which prompted another visit to .....you guessed it...his supervisor! When he returned, he said, "We'll accommodate you." How sweet.... He proceeds to spend a long time trying to find the correct form, which involves a phone call to the supervisor, who then actually makes an appearance to try to help him find the form on his computer. At some point she finally says, -"I'll go find it on my computer and send it to your mailbox." She leaves, I assume to go do just that. Then he says, "I need the plates off your truck to start the process." So Pat goes out to the parking lot to get the plates. I'm waiting by the window, Jay seems to be looking at his computer, when one of three other employees goes to the printer, finds  something in there, says, "Jay, is this yours?" To which he responds, "Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, I was just spacing out here." A glimmer of self-awareness! After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only 30 minutes, Pat finally comes back in with one plate. "I couldn't get the other one off," she explains. Really? No tools in the truck? No Leatherman all-purpose tool in the pocket? (An aside: Pat has a marvelous Leatherman all-purpose tool which she now rarely carries with her. Why? They confiscate it at the airport and at most federal buildings. For the number of times she needs it, it's just not worth it. Now back to the story.) We asked idiot-slug Jay if he had a screw driver or pair of pliers we could borrow. He said no. Didn't look around, didn't ask around, didn't consider for a few moments, just "no," without hesitation. So Pat walked over to the safety check window, asked the fellow there, who happened to have.....you guessed it!...a Leatherman tool! Which she used to remove the second plate. Ok, having both plates, he starts the actual process. At this point, he decides the form the VA sent her that has all the boxes checked for 100% service-connected disability doesn't look enough like an actual letter for him to check the box "VA letter". So he asked if it came with any other letter-type document. She went out to the car to look for the rest of the packet. After she brought that in, he talked to his supervisor again, finally accepting the documents. As we near the end, he says, "That will be $105.79." As you recall, we had slightly more than $90 in cash and no checkbook. We explain to him that we are going to have to drive to the Tesoro station to go to the ATM. He mentions that the office is now closed. (What!?! We've been at this for over 2 hours?!?) However, he's willing to wait if I hurry. Which is when we remind him we need our plates back to to drive anywhere. Doh! 

Then he makes the comment that pushes me over the edge of the cliff of patience. "Well, you were the one who demanded to get your plates TODAY." DEMANDED? Today? Yes, more than two hours ago! And without being cheated out of an additional $80! As I started to flip out, he started to say, "We can set everything aside and you can come back..." Pat pushed me out the door, plates in hand, and said, "Drive to the ATM and get money!" Of course I never pay attention when she drives, and she never reads street signs, so I left on a prayer. I found it. A $100 withdrawal cost me $3.50. But not before the Hello Kitty design so confused me (because I was in a rush) that I pushed wrong buttons twice before succeeding in my mission.

I returned, parked in the handicapped spot (they probably don't care much because the offices are closed and it might be difficult to ticket me without plates anyway), and got out to run up to the door. I saw Pat coming out towards me. Oh, no! I missed it! He got tired of waiting! No, she  said, I just came out to meet you. (She didn't know that might be a mistake? She's supposed to stay on the INSIDE to open the door for me, like I stayed at the window so no-one would step up and start another transaction when she went out to the car!) We got to the door. Locked. Bang bang. Nothing. Bang bang. Nothing. Bang bang. Here comes slug! Yay! 

Don't worry, the story is almost done, as are we.

We hustle up to the window, and he says, "That will be $112.58." What happened to $105.79? A little extra for my trouble? Fortunately, I still had my original cash, so we paid, received our new plates, and went on our way.

Now, if we want the disabled plates, web have to go somewhere else, get a paper of some sort, then return and pay another transfer fee for the new plates. He told us this at the end of the process. Hmm.

And we get to do this all over again next week with the car. Yay!

Chick update

We were wondering how the chicks, born in a nest, up on a shelf, were going to manage to get down, eat, etc. We did put a little chick food in the nest and moved it near the ramp so they wouldn't just topple down. Although they might roll. I imagine at this point the hens were laughing at us! We got home this evening at dusk and the hen was on the ground, under the ramp, with her chicks tucked in under her wings for bed. She worked it out somehow. Why did I ever doubt? They just know how to do these things I guess.

We got home much later than expected because we stopped by the DMV to change the truck registration. That's a whole other story!

Our first chicks born naturally in captivity!

What the Heck does that mean? Well, we have chosen to incubate all the fertilized eggs we want to hatch each year. Mostly because it's Nv a controlled environment, we can ensure they thrive once hatched, and all the nests can continue to be used for laying. Somehow, Pat got it in her head that we should leave a few eggs under an especially broody hen and see what happened. So we put 7 eggs from our favorite hens under her, marked them with an X, and left them alone. That was about 3 weeks ago. Early on, one somehow disappeared (?), so, on a daily basis, I slipped my hand under her and counted. If there were more than six, I pulled them out one or two at a time until I found the new addition. A few days ago, when I slipped my hand in, I felt little chicks! Yay! Of the remaining six, 4 hatched, 1 never developed, and 1 died trying to get out. We waited a few days, then slipped the little buttonhead that arrived 10 days ago with the meat birds. Mom tucked her right in with the others without blinking. She would've gotten trampled had she stayed any longer with the fatties! We're keeping an eye on them too see how they do. The last week so, the hen recruited a sister to help, so there's often 2 on the nest, and I guess they can take it in shifts. They keep those babies way in the back. I do hope they're feeding them! I know, trust nature.....

Do we have a homestead farm?We

I was reading my friend's blog recently, and she gave her explanation of the differences between a homestead farm, a hobby farm, and a small farm. I won't repeat them here, but apparently, the closest term for The Four Daughters Farm is a homestead. I say this because
1. We live on the farm.
2. The purpose of the farm is more sustainability than cash income.
3. It doesn't make a profit (I considered "hobby", but we raise the livestock and eggs for health reasons, not really pleasure).
4. We often trade what we produce for local goods and/or services.

By the way, I love the rain; our tank is half full. But the chickens are muddy and stinky! Yeeew! I'll use all the new water washing muddy clothes! And the eggs look like they've been rolled in mud!

Well, time to get up and feed the crew - coffee for Mom first though!

Romancing the Stone

How did I ever miss that movie? Pat and I just saw out this evening at our supper club. I think I was the only person that had never seen it. Probably because it is an 80's film, and I missed a lot of the 80's, living in Europe for most of the decade. Anyway, in spite of Mike Douglas' horrible haircut, it was a really funny film. Predictable, enjoyable, and funny. One of the reasons I really like our Saturday night date night is that we don't choose the movie. That way, we see some movies that are really good that we might not ever pick out ourselves. 

We lost one of our layers last week. She evidently was not very happy in her pen; maybe the other hens were picking on her. But she developed the habit of squeezing under the fencing into a neighboring pen for visits, then returning. One day, she got her leg caught in the fence. Pat and Kui were able to free her and she stayed in b the hospital pen for a few days, but her leg was swollen and the third day she just died. She was a good second year egg layer too. Sad. However, we received 26 meatbirds (as baby chicks) in the mail, with one exotic buttonhead. After 5 days, only one has died. They are growing like crazy. I'll post photos soon. Now it's time to sleep.

Bon nuit.

Don't give up - be a follower!

Now I know what happens when you take a blogging break! Your pals give up on you! To kind of quote my friend, "I checked day after day and there was never anything new. I just quit checking." Helllooo... That's why I "follow" the blogs I'm interested in. I simply get an email every time they post a new entry. One day or two months after the last one. I'm not going to surf around checking everyone's site!

The power of the Internet

Here's an odd one. I was having a discussion (bordering on an argument) about the use of a term. I simply could not convince the other person through logical arguments. So I said, "Let's look it up!" We opened my iPad, went to Wikipedia, and looked it up. According to this fine resource, I was correct. Issue resolved. Afterwards, I thought about just how wrong that was! Wikipedia is composed of contributions by the public, mostly unverified. So, if you want to "prove" a fallacy, post it on Wikipedia, then go make your point and look itn up before anyone discovers it and corrects you!

A tale of two Jacksons

I just posted an incomplete post. I had written 4 more paragraphs and ! Poof! Everything disappeared! I was to defeated to rewrite, therefore I don't know if you'll ever "hear" the rest of the update....

Anyway, I have a New story today. We were coming up from the pigs and, right there in my path, on the grey ramp, was a gorgeous neon green horned Jackson chameleon, approximately 7" long, walking very slowly towards a tree. Not camouflaged at all. Our dogs have the bad habit of capturing and "playing" with these creatures. They do not survive the game. The dogs were nowhere around, so I quickly called Pat to help rescue the lizard. As we put it near the tree, we saw the female, a brown speckled gal without horns. She was safely in the tree, blending in and crawling up with good speed. He, on the other hand, in addition to being slow, and a poor color changer, apparently wasn't too good at finding his mate either. Once he got on the tree, he chose to climb the branch opposite to the one she was on. Sheesh! So Pat moved him to the correct branch. After that, he's on his own! However, she did stumble on a stump when climbing out of the brush, throwing her back out. But it's ok, we saved the lizard! Of course, we didn't have our phones on us for photos, and when we got back with them we couldn't find them. Where are they when you want them to pose for a photo shoot?

Wonder who we can save tomorrow?

A long over due update

It's a lazy Thursday morning, after five days off up early and rush, rush, rush. The dogs are sleeping in, too.

Panter sleeping on the bed

Kai sleeping on the floor

See? And I looked at my blog and realized I hadn't blogged in months! I have reasons, but they're not important. Blogging is a choice. You do it or you don't. 

One thing that's new, and a reason I am enjoying my blogging, is Swype. I was at an all-day meeting on Saturday (a challenge in itself) when I noticed the woman next to me writing very quickly on her iPhone by swiping her finger around the keyboard. I may be the last person on earth to find out about this, but it makes writing things on my iPad or iPhone really much faster and easier. One barrier down.

So what's new with the pigs? We are trying to breed Mother and Mohawk again. The hardest part was getting them in the same pen again. We had moved Mother into Mohawk's pen a few months ago (not without some difficulty). However, one day when we were gone, our tenant workers separated them. Reasons unclear. So now we are trying to get them back together. We need to figure out a better way to do it. The first time we moved Mother, our friend and fellow farmer said, "Put a rope on her foot and guide her to the pen. That way, if she bolts, you can trip her." Sounds easy enough. But the pig didn't want a rope on her foot. We spent a really long time inn the pen trying to get a rope on her foot.