Final blog of 2011

Here I am ~still in my non-descript dark cave in my undisclosed forest in my undisclosed state. I will not give up my coordinates. Don’t ask. Suffice to say somewhere on a mountain in a "one bar" service area (for both drinks and 3G). Sad yet true.

The last part of December and the first part of January 2011 was pure hell on this forest woman......my male Sheltie pup, Finn, began his epileptic seizures, which sadly was the beginning of the end. He is gone now, but he will never be forgotten. Shadow-Man is gone now too, having passed away in November. Shadow lived a long and happy life, almost 13 years old. It was just me, Skye-Pilot and Kesä for awhile - well, until Shep came into our lives. But that is another story for another time. I just want to get my last blog of 2011 done.

Sooooooooo ~

It’s almost 2012 and we’re not driving dragons? The future sickens me. It’s bad enough that Santa once again forgot to leave my pink rocket shoes under the Christmas tree....again. Again for the last 50 some freak’n years I might add. As I have said before ~ “For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness or mortal vindication .....seriously Dude, you don’t want to anger me!” Yes, Santa, you have angered me.

Do I have any New Year’s Resolutions? Nope, my only New Years Resolution, if you can even call it a resolution, is to remember to write “2012" instead of “2011"

My Thoughts for the last day of 2011:

We all know a few people we figure had been dropped as a baby, clearly there are even some who were thrown at the wall.

Just do it tomorrow. You’ve probably made enough mistakes for today and for the year of 2011.

If your dog thinks you’re the greatest person in the world, whatever you do ~ don’t seek a second opinion. Just go with it. Enjoy the moment.

No one can ruin your day without your permission. It’s the last day of this crazy year, don’t let anyone rain on your parade.

The word listen contains the same letters as the word silent. Seriously.

No matter how old you are, an empty Christmas wrapping paper tube is still a light saber.

Apparently the only member of my family with a personal trainer is my dog.

I think the only difference between a yard sale and a trash pickup is how close to the road the stuff is placed.

There are a lot of people out there that use expensive, illegal substances to blur the lines of reality. All I have to do is just take off my reading glasses.

　

My Questions for the day:

How come my cell phone doesn’t have enough battery left to take any pictures, but it has enough battery to keep telling me that it’s low?

Square Box. Round Pizza. Triangle Slices. WTH?

My Admissions for today:

I have never committed a crime. But I will admit I have at times failed to comply with the law. Whatever.

During my ‘teen years’ my parents once accused me of being a liar. I don’t even remember what it was all about. Doesn’t matter. I looked them in the face and said, “Ummm....really? Tooth fairy, Santa, Easter bunny?” and walked away. End of discussion.

Always a Washingtonian:

I grew up with slugs and snails, and one little bit of information I can provide is that a slug is just a snail with a housing problem. Homeless. Homeless slug. That is just freak’n sad.

Just wondering......

It was on July 8, 1947 when witnesses claimed a spaceship with five aliens aboard crashed on a sheep-and-cattle ranch outside Roswell. Obviously this incident was covered up by the military. March 31, 1948, nine months after that day, Al Gore was born. That clears up a lot of things don’t you agree?

I have this obsessive and relentless need to end each blog on a joke.

Barack Obama

Is it Trespassing or is it taking my Pet Fish for a swim?

I am actually quite pleasant...... until I’m awake. Really? Construction at 5:30 am? Nothin’ beats waking up to a backhoe when it’s not even daylight yet. It’s true; there are no laws in the forest.

Who’d thunk it? I told you I’d get back to you about my new hobby of fishing, right? As I mentioned in last month’s blog I used to fish on Whidbey Island in Washington State with my eccentric Uncle Chips. He made me fish. It’s not that I wanted to; he literally made me go with him. I said I was going to be the fisherwoman who would be unable to pass up promising, or even unpromising, water. My plan was to fish everywhere. Bird baths, fish cemetery ponds, decorative fountains, subdivision lakes, golf course ponds. I promised I would blog about my fishing exploits and might even post some photos.

I live real close to a private lake. You can’t fish there unless you own property in that area. Or at least that’s what ‘they’ say. When I took up this new hobby I distinctly said I was going to fish wherever I wanted to fish. Golf courses, fountains, etc. So I went to this lake, Truett Lake, the other day. So as to not incriminate myself, if I say “The other day” it can mean any time from yesterday to 364 days ago. It started out as a bad morning. The moment when you pour your Chai Tea Latte concentrate in a coffee cup, open the fridge, and realize there is no milk. I mean it just doesn’t get much worse than that. (Hello? Hello Neighbor to the west....“Got Milk”?) No milk for my Lucky Charms either. Oh well, threw some of those Lucky Charms into my pocket, grabbed my trusty pink fishing pole and my two buckets and off I went. There was a time that even imagining that a pink fishing rod would even exist was nearly impossible since fishing is a male dominating sport. Not only do I have my pink fishing pole, I’ve got matching accessories... pink tackle boxes, lures, even pink fishing line!

Pruett Lake? Truett Lake? What is it really called? Hell, it doesn’t matter to me, but if it matters to you it can be found at 40.4923782348633 and -121.8891601562500. It’s also called Woodridge Lake. Spent an hour or so there. Hell, why not? I was up ‘before’ the crack of dawn because of some backhoe driver who likes to work in the pitch dark when the rest of the damn forest is sleeping. There I was ~ fishing in a nice little secluded spot when I was approached by a local resident who lives on this lake, and owns the rights to this lake (Big Whoopee!). There I was with two buckets of fish sitting right next to me.

This person asked me "Do you have rights to catch those fish? Do you have a fishing license?"

(Dude, if it is on private property you don't need a license! A better question would be “Are you trespassing”? )

I politely replied to this person, "No, sir. These are my pet fish."

"Pet fish?!"

this fella replied.

"Yes, sir. Every morning I take my pet fish to this lake and let them swim around for a while. I whistle and they jump back into their buckets, and I take em home."

"That's a bunch of bullshit! Fish can't do that!"

I looked at this obviously agitated person and said,

"Here, I'll show you. My fish are highly trained."

"O.K. I've GOT to see this!"

 

I poured my fish into the lake and stood on the banks and waited. After several minutes, this fella looked at me and said, "Well?"

I responded back to him "Well, what?"

"When are you going to call them back?” he asked.

"Call who back?"

I asked.

"The FISH."

"What fish?"

I asked.

I start walking home with my two empty buckets and he’s yelling profanities at me. Whatever Dude. I had some quiet time at the private lake ~ it had been all worth it.

I figure the next time I go over to this private lake I’m going to just sit in a folding chair and catch those fish with pellet fish food. If any of the private lake owners happen by again, I’m just going to explain that I’m feeding my pet fish. Or better yet, I will say that I am ‘thinking’ of purchasing a house in the area but before I do I want to make sure there’s actually fish in this lake I will co-own.

My rules to fish anywhere and everywhere are fairly simple. I don't have to fish every day, but I have to fish somewhere that I can catch a fish. So no fishing in the bathtub or in a rain filled ditch. Sneaking over to a private lake is fun. I will admit though, live bait is sometimes the biggest fish I handle all day long - but hey, I’m fishing. I have found out, by accident mind you, that Lucky Charms cereal works really well ~ especially the marshmallow hearts and stars, and you can snack while you fish. Can’t beat that, can ya? My best tip and before you laugh, please try it... Gummy worms ... cut into 1/3rds. The cost of the bait for a bag 1.99-3.99. You can have a wonderful day on the water and you will catch fish.. .or at least eat the bait.

Next week-end I’m going to fish the water hazards on the golf courses. I have caught a thirteen pound bass from the golf course in .....oh no, can‘t divulge the name. I refuse to cough up a single golf course name, although I will offer this bit of advice: Don't piss off the golfers. You'll ruin it for all of us.

A few rules to follow: Just remember; when you go golf course fishing keep your mouth shut. Always practice catch-and-release. Well, if anyone is watching anyway. Ignore the posted NO FISHING signs. If you see those signs it’s fairly obvious that there ARE fish there! Fish until you're caught, apologize and then leave for good. In other words find a different golf course. Dress appropriately. Khakis and a obnoxious golf shirt will help you blend in. Or a Khaki shirt and obnoxious golf shorts. Doesn’t matter really as long as you wear at least one horrendous item of clothing. My bling adorned pink fishing pole gives me away, so I’m going to have to resort to fishing at night. Night fishing will work better for me anyway. When you partake in daytime golf course fishing, you have to learn ninja badassery because you do a lot of cart dodging and weed hunkering. Those damn golf carts will send you running for cover and most likely you get nailed by a sprinkler that you will fail to notice in time. I have heard some jumps and splashes that sounded like the biggest bass ever, but quickly found out it was one of the golfers who decided to relieve himself in the safety of the shaded area of the pond and then fell in.

There's no denying the thrill of sneaking onto a golf course to fish. Always glancing over your shoulder to the putting greens, wondering if that silver-haired golfer in the horrendous checkered pants and striped shirt will make a call to the sheriff. It’s the thrill I tell ya! The thrill. Not to mention the fact that the Sheriff’s in this particular County don’t respond to anything anyway so it’s a pretty safe bet it won’t matter if you get caught or not. But then again, who knows, maybe that silver-haired golfer in the horrendous checkered pants and striped shirt IS the Sheriff.

My Joke for the day:

A defense attorney in Marin County was cross-examining a Deputy Sheriff during a felony trial. It went like this:

Q. Deputy, did you see my client fleeing the scene?
A. No sir, but I subsequently observed a person matching the description of the offender running several blocks away.

Q. Deputy, who provided this description?
A. The Deputy who responded to the scene.

Q. A fellow Deputy provided the description of this so- called offender. Do you trust your fellow officers?
A. Yes sir, with my life.

Q. With your life? Let me ask you this then Deputy - do you have a locker room in the Sheriff’s Office - a room where you change your clothes in preparation for your daily duties?
A. Yes sir, we do.

Q. And do you have a locker in that room?
A. Yes sir, I do.

Q. And do you have a lock on your locker?
A. Yes sir.

Q. Now why is it, Deputy, if you trust your fellow officers with your life, that you find it necessary to lock your locker in a room you share with those same officers?
A. You see sir, we share the building with a court complex, and sometimes lawyers have been known to walk through that room.

With that, the Marin County courtroom erupted in laughter, and a prompt recess was called.


My thoughts for the day:

One body. One mind. That's what each of us gets to last a lifetime.

We live in the “WTF” generation. (W)ikipedia, (T)witter, (F)acebook.

Ever wonder why those two animals, the bull and the bear, were chosen to represent the stock market? My theory is because Wall Street will feed you all the bull you can bear.

My Advice for the day:

Party every day that begins with the letter T.

Tuesday and Thursday?

Nah, TODAY and TOMMOROW!



My BITCH for the day:
As I have said in a much earlier blog ~ all I want in this world is to have some one I can turn to and yell, “Avenge Me!!” if I’m dying or wrongly accused of a crime. Or any injustice for that matter.

Oh, and rocket shoes. Pretty pink rocket shoes. I have asked for pink rocket shoes ever since I have been 5. The Christmas tree has always been void of pink rocket shoes. I also asked for pink cowgirl boots one Christmas, but did I get them? NO! Was it because Santa could not find the matching pink pony that I also asked for? I’m losing faith in this fat guy named Santa. Yet......yes, once again I will be asking Santa for my pretty pink rocket shoes again this year. This is your last year to do right Santa. For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness or mortal vindication .....seriously Dude, you don’t want to anger me!

My confession(s) for the day:
I just took a shower. Nobody and I mean nobody has any idea just how hard it was to sneak that thing out of Home Depot.

My plans for this weekend are so top secret even I don't know what they are.

You know when I use LOL or LMAO or ROFL I’m just sitting here with a straight face, right? It’s only when I use ROFLMFinnishAO that I am totally serious.

I am just making stuff up now.

Until next time.....remember......

If you didn’t get caught, did you really do it? If you didn’t post it to Facebook, did it really happen? Was any of this blog even factual?

Just a whole lot of 'Whatever'

Still in my non-descript dark cave in an undisclosed forest in an undisclosed state. I will not give up my coordinates. Don’t ask. Some secrets are best left un-Twittered and un-Facebooked.

I’m not myself today. I noticed the improvement immediately. Proud of myself because I survived yet another day. I’m on quite a roll here.

To begin I have to admit that I have not ‘bludgeoned’ Facebook lately. I will now. What I don’t miss about Facebook? Reading someone’s status and thinking ‘OH CRY ME A RIVER’. Let’s be honest ~ when life gives you lemons, most of you just cry to Facebook or Twitter about it. Some of my family and friends have become hardcore Facebook addicts, but I won’t begrudge them. There are worse things they could become, I suppose. A Human Trafficker, a Meth dealer, a UPS delivery-man groupie, a Twitterer. Still, it's unsettling. I’m thinking of doing an ‘Intervention’ for a few of them. I placed an ad on EBay for my old account: Face book account for sale, Friends included. So far, absolutely no offers.

As 2010 morphed into this one, I, like so many others, held out hope that 2011 would be better than 2010, though not as good as 2000. Because why set yourself up for disappointment? 2011 got off to an unpromising start and just stayed there - unpromising. What bothers me is the passing of our familiar ways. Things that are familiar to me yet will be unfamiliar to my grandchildren - quicker than one can imagine. The changes are everywhere. Blockbuster, which very easily killed out the mom and pop video-stores, is now a victim itself. A victim of the recession and Netflix and those pitiful Redbox vending machines that deliver movies as though they were a Diet Dr. Pepper. So many items on the extinction list. I’m thinking the things children born today won’t recognize in their ‘tomorrow’ are: video stores, catalogs, commercial radio, travel agents, maps, watches, encyclopedias, yellow pages, retirement plans, books, newspapers, knowing how to actually write a letter, and even the United States Post Office. Even “hiding” will be impossible, since even right now your phone is not only in your pocket, it can potentially tell everyone—Big Brother included—exactly where you are at any given time. So I suppose the word ‘privacy’ will be extinct also.

Trying to stay on top of all the changes - when informed, say, that stirrup pants are out, I’m eternally grateful, skinny jeans are on their way out, well—neither were all that flattering on me anyway. Flare pants are back in? Let me think about that one. I reckon I don’t have any worries about any fashion changes - I’m a jeans and denim person. Always have been. Always will be. Something about jeans - they have never gone out of style. Sure, jeans now have bling on them, fancy pockets, what have you, but the original Levi’s and Wrangler’s are here to stay - forever. Once again, I am eternally grateful.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been acutely aware of time’s passage, and my inability to halt it, but I want 2012 to be different. Maybe this will be the year, 2012, I’ll try to be ’nice’ to everyone or even let my aged neighbor out of my padlocked tool shed—we’ll see how it goes.

We’re just a few months away from the start of primary elections and 14 months until the general election. Crap, there goes my TV programming. I like Gary Johnson’s (New Mexico x-governor) remark of “My next-door neighbor's two dogs have created more shovel-ready jobs than this current administration”. This guy has brass ‘ones’. Paying attention to this contender. The underdog candidate.

On the last Election Day, I woke up early, made my way down to the polling place, a local Church, in the pouring rain like all the other heroes in my town and said hello to some friends in the Republican tent in the Church parking lot, who were passing out donuts and literature. Wasn‘t interested in the literature, but I grabbed two of those donuts. I voted that year, just not for president. As for president, I left my ballot beautifully, gloriously blank. No vote is a vote too. Ok, I lied. But I am only lying about the getting up early and going to the polling place. I’m not an idiot. I’m an absentee voter, I mail my votes in. In my case, my vote was a vote of no-confidence in the available candidates. I voted my conscience and I felt good about my non-decision. Probably a waste of a postal stamp though.

I’m thinking of taking up fishing. I used to fish on Whidbey Island with my eccentric Uncle Chips. He made me fish. It’s not that I wanted to; he literally made me go with him. I was a kid who swam in the creek with my slimy whiskered friends, the salmon, even splashing about with them in the fish ladders. I was not one who wanted to catch them. Time to change. I will be the fisherman, well, actually the fisherwoman who will be unable to pass up promising, or even unpromising, water. Catch and release of course. I will carry my trusty fishing pole with me everywhere. (Does anyone know where I can get a bling adorned pink fishing pole?) Real fisherwomen don't let the perfect be the enemy of the readily available and will fish whatever water lies before them. Seriously. If you have a birdbath in your yard, call me, I'll rush right over. I’m serious about this fishing. I've going to fish cemetery ponds, office-park fountains, and subdivision lakes that have decorative fountains. I’m going to fish the golf courses. I'll no doubt have some verbal matches with golfers. Golfers are cranky by nature. They’ll yell at me to move so as not to get a Titleist implanted in my blonde skull. I will then yell back that they have 17 other damn holes to play, whereas the largemouth bass I’ll be stalking lives in the particular water hazard they want me to leave. Stay tuned, I will blog about my Fishing exploits. I may even post some photos.

My Saturday Thoughts:
There are three kinds of lies. 1. Lies 2.Damned Lies 3. Facebook Statuses

The reason children ask so many questions is because they have an extra why chromosome.

Vacation is what you take when you can’t take what you’ve been taking any longer.

I really REALLY hate to see my loved ones leave home. I also miss my fives, tens and twenty’s.

I don’t think our economy has turned around so much as it has backed over us and parked. Several times.

I guess what I’m proudest of the most is my ability to make the tough choices ~ in hypothetical situations. I’ve made enough tough choices in real life to not ever have to make those choices again. I have full-filled my quota. Hypothetical is the only way to go.

Dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks of captivity, they can actually train stupid people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish!

　
My Saturday Complaints:
In my opinion those ‘energy saving’ light-bulbs are crap. They take just as much effort and time to screw in as the ordinary ones.

It’s been a lifetime struggle for me to stop spending my lifetime struggling.

Even though both of my parents have been gone for a number of years now, I’m still upset to learn that my Mom hid my acceptance letter from Hogwarts! She hid it from my father also. He would have been proud. Damn proud.

My Saturday Advice:
Remember ~ when it comes to affairs of the heart; always try to avoid EMT’s, electric paddles and the word “CLEAR !”

You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

Every once in awhile walk outside, look up, and smile for a satellite picture. It will make somebody else smile - don’t know who - but it will.

My Saturday Question:

It’s quite possible some of my best mistakes haven’t been made yet. I’ve made so many in my life ~ so now I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them. Got any ideas of the new mistakes I should be making?

An ad I found in the personals:
Dear Noah, Hey! We could have sworn you said the ark wasn’t leaving till 5. WTH?
Sincerely, Unicorns.

Ok, now I am bored. Going to DEFCON 4.

Before I go, I want to share a photo of my neighbor’s dog, Cassie, with my dog, Kesä. Cassie is willing to take Kesä trick or treating this year. As you can imagine, Kesä is pretty excited.

An update on my quit smoking attempt: 1 Month, 3 weeks, 2 Days, 16 hours, 40 minutes. May not seem like much of an accomplishment to some, but for someone who has smoked since she was 14 - it's a HELL of an accomplishment.

Road Trip'n

Well, here I am blogging from my underground command post. Deep in the bowels of a mountain. Somewhere under the dirt, rock and darkness of a nondescript cave, known as home.

Just returned from a road trip. I think I‘ve been in the snow tooooo long, and quite frankly getting a little tired of it. I found myself thinking about the ocean. I think the best thing about living at the ocean would be that you would only have jerks on three sides of you. Ya just can't beat that. But on the way to the ocean I got side-tracked, so to speak.

Left California and went to Oregon.
Planned on stopping and seeing Doug and Vickie but some of those signs I saw on I-5 as soon as I crossed the California-Oregon border had me a little concerned since I’m driving a truck with California plates. In Ashland, it was It's OR-EE-GUN, you stupid Californians and in Medford it was Oregon: Separating Washington and California for over 150 Years. In Eugene it was Oregon is as Pretty as California, but not as Screwed-up. In Salem it was Don’t Cali -fornicate Oregon,

and last but not least, in Portland it was Spotted Owl, It's What's For Dinner. Crossed the Columbia river into Vancouver, Washington.

You know - the other Vancouver. Finally ! A nice sign. Entering Washington.

Stopped to visit Savana in Tacoma but she wasn't home.
In Seattle. Already thinking about my Seattle Starbucks coffee. Ok, one hand on my Starbucks latte, one knee on wheel, cradling my cell phone, foot on brake, mind on Mariner’s game, trying to outrun the raindrops. Thinking I really should have bought new windshield wipers. Truck is getting a decent wash though. The abundance of slugs makes the highways pretty slippery. Just passed a pedestrian. I guess it’s true - they do wear socks with sandals. I should  head over to Port Ludlow and visit my cousin Aldeen. The ferry lines are too long. (Don't listen to anyone if you hear about me in the State of Washington Aldeen, it was a doppelganger, really, it was!)  Heading to Bellingham and then onward north to Canada.
Now in Vancouver. British Columbia not Washington State. Still raining.

Driving like a Canuk now. Canadian beer in one hand, British Columbia Weed in the other. . Hockey sticks hanging out the rear window.
Just drove the Al-Can highway. Now in Anchorage, Alaska. One gloved hand on wheel, one hand on heater, feet up underneath my butt to keep warm, neither foot on accelerator or brakes because with all the ice on the roads, we’re all moving at the same speed either way. Waaay too cold up here.

Have to head back down to Washington, then head east into Idaho. Feeling a craving for a Idaho spud - twice baked.

In Idaho now.

Trying to appear to be a Idahoan. I am driving my Four-wheel drive Chevy truck, shotgun mounted in rear window, beer cans on floor, squirrel tails attached to the antenna. That was a quick trip.
Just crossed over the Montana State line.

Land of the Big Sky, and the Unabomber. Haven’t been in Montana since the early 1970’s. Hasn’t changed much. Got one finger on the steering wheel of my 4x4 Chevy truck, Charlie Daniels blaring from the speakers, dead coyote in back, my saddle thrown over a hay bale, hay leaves blowing out of the truck bed while going down the highway. Fitting right in. Might as well drop down to Wyoming since I’m this close.
Not sure I am going to stop in Wyoming. Wynot? Where Men Are Men... and the sheep are scared? Keep driving.

Maybe I should head towards Utah or Nevada. What to do, what to do? That would seem like back-tracking. I’m already seeing signs for Nevada. Whores and Poker! Neither one appeal to me.
Nah, I’ll just head towards South Dakota so I can get to Minnesota. Lots of Finns in Minnesota.

Just crossed into Minnesota. Seeing lots of freeway signs that say: Home of the Blonde Hair and Blue Ears. I think a more appropriate sign would be 4 seasons: Almost winter, Winter, Still Winter and Always Winter.
Now I have to go through Iowa to get to Missouri. Have a friend in Missouri I wish to visit, but first I have to get through Iowa. Both hands on wheel, eyes shut, both feet on brake, quivering in terror...just saw a highway sign that said We Do Amazing Things With Corn ~ just don't ask. In Missouri, I’m now seeing freeway signs that say Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars at Work. It’s raining like Washington State. Should I be concerned? Now seeing Show Me State.

Yeah, umm....you show me yours and I'll show you my rifle.
Nice visit with Valrie, but now it’s time to head on to Massachusetts to visit my Finnish cousin Wilho.
Valrie has decided she wants to join me on this road trip. We have to travel through a lot of states to get to Florida !
The freeway signs in Illinois read: Gateway to Iowa and Please Don't Pronounce the "S". I’m driving with one hand on wheel, one hand on horn.
Not sure if I understand these signs in Indiana though - 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free. My favorite freeway signs so far? The ones in Ohio. Don't Judge Us by the Cleveland Indians and At Least We're Not Michigan. Now in Pennsylvania we’re not seeing many cars. Most of the drivers in this state have one hand on the reins, and one hand on the whip. A lot of horse s*it on the roads.

Yet they have highway signs that say Cook With Coal. Feeling kind of excited about driving into New York. I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. The first thing my grandparents saw when they came to America. Just got into New York. Valrie told me that I should be driving like a native New Yorker ~ so now I’m driving with one hand on the wheel and one finger out the window. She must be right, because nobody is objecting to this form of driving etiquette.

Now we just entered Massachusetts. Just drove by a sign that read Our Taxes Are Lower Than Sweden's (For Most Tax Brackets), with a smaller sign right below it - Now with 30% Fewer Kennedy’s. Driving in Boston with one hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot solidly on accelerator, just like the native folks. Nice visit with my cousin Wilho. Love his Massachusetts accent and his Finnish humor.
Valrie suggested we head on down to Texas. Hey, no problem. First we have to stop and see my other Finnish cousin in Florida. Have to cover a lot of states in order to get to Florida. The signs in North Carolina: Tobacco is a Vegetable. Valrie is cracking up at the signs in South Carolina. Remember the Civil War? We Didn't Actually Surrender and Hook up for Free at One of Our Lovely Trailer Parks.
Finally, we are in Florida. Before we visit my cousin, we decide to stop for lunch. Sitting on the truck’s tailgate we were watching drivers entering the freeway. Two hands gripping the wheel, blue hair barely visible above window level, driving 35 on the Interstate in the left lane with the left blinker on, bumper stickers that says: My Grandchildren are cuter than yours. Valrie just noticed we’re parked under a sign that reads: Go Away and Leave Us Alone we're busy enjoying our 82 degree winter.After visiting with Alan we were on our way to Texas.
Once in Texas we were wearing our cowboy hats and s*it-kickers, and I let Valrie drive. One hand on wheel, one hand on the hunting rifle, alternating between both feet being on the accelerator and both feet on the brake, throwing a McDonald's bag out the window. Stopped for gas and an attendant said “Si' Hablo Ing'les.” We were a little confused at first. Thought maybe we made a wrong turn.
From Texas, we went to New Mexico. The freeway signs were awesome! Signs everywhere saying Cleaner than Old Mexico and Less Bodies in the Sandbox.
From New Mexico we crossed into Arizona.

Not much to say but ....It’s a Dry Heat. No doubt about that.
Back into California. Decide to slip into Mexico. The real Mexico. We're close, we can tell by this sign:

Valrie is driving. We’re smart enough to not drive my own truck in Mexico.

We’re driving a rental car in Mexico. She’s got one hand on the wheel, one hand on a gun resting between her legs, we’re both wearing bullet poof vest’s. We’re hearing chunks of rust falling off the vehicle, by the pound. All we wanted to do was have some tequila with the worm in it.

Accomplished that and off we went - back into California. I keep wondering - why hasn’t anyone even thought to look in San Diego for Carmen Sandiego? Think about it, it’s a little too obvious. Which means it’s perfect. And what about Waldo? I'm more inclined to think that Waldo is hiding because he's behind on his child support payments.
In Southern California, Valrie is still driving. One hand on wheel, one hand on nonfat double decaf cappuccino, holding her cell phone, brick on accelerator with gun in lap. A true California driver. We drive by a Honda dealership sign that says Our Honda’s have less plastic than our women . In Los Angeles, we notice that the other drivers have one hand on a laptop computer, one hand at on-board navigation/Internet console installed in the dash board, cell phones attached to their heads with a microphone earpiece, probably having a executive meeting with half a dozen people on their speaker phone, palm pilot wedged between their knees to observe up to date stock quotes, and their shoes kicked off, and feet crossed because traffic hasn't moved in the past hour.
Just drove by a medical center that had a sign on the door that read: Sorry, no Medical Marijuana for non-residents. Don’t ask. And yet another sign on Interstate 5 says If You Can Dream It, We Can Tax It. 
Valrie, for a Missouri woman is doing a good job of driving in California., at least she isn’t aiming for pedestrians who have the mistaken notion that crosswalks are for them like most Californian’s do.
All in all - a nice little ‘get-away’. Now that we are back home at my place, I need to tell Valrie that I don’t have an airport near me........that we passed the only airport about 3 hours ago. Not sure just how this Missouri woman is going to get home ~ I’m a little tired of driving. Understandable, right?
　
　
Oh, before I forget - things my parents taught me:

My Father taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE -
"If it was anything to worry about you would have bled to death by now”

My Mother taught me to THINK AHEAD -
“You’re moving out when you turn 18, right?”

My Mother taught me about GENETICS -
"You're just like your father."

My Mother taught me about my ROOTS -
"Do you think you were born in a barn?"

My Father taught me about WISDOM OF AGE -
"When you get to be my age, you will understand."

And my all time favorite from my Mother -  JUSTICE -
"One day you'll have kids ... and I hope they turn out just like you!"

Thanks Mom, they did ! I wasn't a bad kid - you just didn't understand me.

”Knock, knock!” “Who’s there?” “Irish.” “Irish who?” “Irish you a happy St. Patrick’s Day!”

St Patrick’s Day. The day people celebrate Irishness, real or imagined. I’m 25% Irish but I don’t celebrate this day. Green beer, wearing of green clothing, and parades. A holiday with firm Irish religious roots that also allows anyone to get drunk and make a fool of themselves on a weekday. A day that people, Irish or not, have already planned their celebratory feasts, drinking binges, to be followed by subsequent hangover days spent eating Lucky Charms in their underwear. I won’t be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with my gang of leprechauns. Now if it was a holiday to honor Neil PATRICK Harris, he’s amazing. ...he’s ‘awesomeness’, then I’d join right in. I’d be right there to say “ It’s St. Patrick’s Day, we need to include green beer and drinking at 10am to our plans!”

My Irish ancestors showed their appreciation of their native land in the usual Irish way by getting out of it as soon as they possibly could. I come from an Irish Mother who was 50% Irish and 50% Welsh. With this mix, she had one hella temper. But.....St. Patrick's Day was a big holiday in my house. The night before my brothers and I would hang up our stockings and in the morning they'd be full of beer. We would always have my Mother’s Irish Beef and Potato Stew. I’m not sure if that stew was in remembrance of the great potato famine in Ireland that sent many of my ancestors to America or not, but it was a ‘given’, my Mom’s stew on St. Patrick’s Day. As I think back, even though I tired of that stew and I barely let a stew touch my lips today, I am ever so thankful she never choked that corned beef and cabbage down our throats. My Irish ancestors would probably disown me for saying this, but I hate corned beef and cabbage. I don't like either one that much alone, and together, they're even worse. In fairness to my mother’s cooking of the Beef Stew I will quickly add that I also hated my father’s Lutefisk, (lipeäkala) which being a Finn I was forced to eat at least twice in my life. I am a self proclaimed ‘picky-as-hell-eater’ and I would gladly eat worms and insects before I would eat lutefisk. Well, heck, I have eaten worms and insects. I draw the line on lutefisk. I can still hear my father’s voice "Just have a little Sis, it’s a Finnish delicacy.” For non-Finns, lutefisk is a dried whitefish (cod) prepared with lye. Hardly considered a culinary delight. My grandparents left Finland to escape being "Russified''. Personally myself, I think it's quite possible they were really trying to escape lutefisk. I understand that my poor ancestors ate lutefisk to stay alive during those cold long hungry winters, but it remains a mystery to me why they brought it with them to America. This is the land of milk and honey, right?  I don't see lutefisk as having a reason to be here.  I can go no further on the subject of lutefisk  if I wish to eat anything at all today.

Who's this Patrick anyway? The patron saint of liquor distributors? Here's the real truth, he didn't get rid of snakes in Ireland. He just got rid of the ones he was seeing. It is a known fact that he was born in Britain in the 4th century. A Roman. The list of Irish saints is long, but in that list no other figure is so human, friendly, and lovable as St. Patrick who was an Irishman ~ only by adoption. When the Irish say that St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland, what they don’t tell you is that he was the only one who saw any snakes! My theory: If St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, I think they swam to Washington D.C. and ended up in the White House.

In fairness to St. Patrick's Day I will admit that I didn’t celebrate St. Urho’s Day yesterday either. That’s a Finnish patron saint. Ok, I admit, a completely made-up saint. I should have been sitting around wearing the purple and green with a wine glass in my hand. Finnish legend says St. Urho chased the grasshoppers out of ancient Finland, thus saving the grape crop and the jobs of Finnish vineyard workers. He did this by uttering the phrase:

“Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen”

roughly translated:

 “Grasshopper, grasshopper, go to Hell!”

Finns. They are so blunt. No mincing of the words.  “Go to Hell”...I love it.

So in essence on March 16th St. Urho drove the grasshoppers out of Finland. On March 17th St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. Copycat! The Finnish people were sick of the green beer and Irish hoopla in March, and decided they needed their own holiday on March 16th. The St. Urho tradition is carried on in many Finnish communities, sometimes merely as an excuse to add an extra day of rowdy celebration to the St. Patrick’s Day festivities. We all know, well, us Finns anyway, that Finns love to party. When it comes down to partying, the Finns run away with the prize. They devote themselves to the serious business of 'enjoying themselves.' In many Finnish-American communities St. Urho’s Day IS the celebration, and St. Pat’s feast day is merely an afterthought, the day to sleep off the hangover. Gotta love the Finns for making up their own holiday. And why not? All holidays are basically made up and/or have changed incredibly over the centuries. Why not celebrate that which is fake?

How funny, now I am soooooo thinking of my Irish mother and my Finnish father ~ two very head-strong people from very different backgrounds. And all of a sudden I am sooooooo smelling my mother's beef stew! This is not my imagination.  

　

　

So, here’s my question: Why isn’t our beer color coordinated for all holiday occasions, instead of just St. Patricks Day? Why not red beer for Christmas? Red beer for Valentines Day? Green beer for Earth Day? Orange beer for Halloween? Red, white and blue beer for the Fourth of July? Pretty pastel pink beer for Easter?

St. Patrick's Day: The one day of the year when the meaning of 'Going Green'  shifts from saving the environment to polluting our major organs. The one day where full blown alcoholism could possibly go undetected. The day that  we worship someone who possibly banished non-existent snakes from Ireland.

Yeah, yeah, I am Irish. No harm. No foul. No harm/no foul to any of the Irish. Irish can laugh at themselves. I laugh at myself all the time. I credit that to being both Irish and Finn.

In celebration of St. Patty's Day I will watch Leonardo DiCaprio, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Liam Neeson in the movie GANGS OF NEW YORK. I will remember the sad fact that the Irish men immigrating to America were enlisted into the army as soon as they stepped off the boat. That was just so wrong America! They had not even been given the chance to complete their 'declaration of intention' of even becoming an American citizen before you sent them off to war!

What? No facebook slamming? Ahhhh, what the hell. Now that I said that, ever notice that ‘What the hell’ is always the right decision? Ok, here it is:

 Facebook is a substitute for real human interaction, which explains its popularity. People just don't want to interact anymore.  So, you 'Facebooker's' out there in Facebookland,  send me an email once in awhile. Let me know you're alive. I never hear from you anymore. I'm not going to mention names. You know who you are.

The forecast for American's celebrating St. Patrick's Day today: Mostly drunk with a slight chance of passing out. It's OK, I pick on Cinco de Mayo also. I wouldn't celebrate that day if you gave me a million bucks! Something about watching the many illegals celebrate being in their hated America, waving their Mexican flags, drinking Corona beer makes me sick to my stomach. Sorta like eating lutefisk. 

Enjoy your day. I know I will.  

Dear Thursday, Move out of the freak’n way. Sincerely, Friday.

Arab world in turmoil, Renteria leaves the SF. Giants, earthquake destroys New Zealand...and Justin Beiber cuts his hair. Will tomorrow's headline be Justin Beiber uses 2-ply Toilet Paper? But now on to the good news: Only 21 more days until the S.F. Giants Opening Season. I can't wait, seeing how I now have High Definition and I'm confident that I will enjoy watching the games even more.

Baseball is the only place in life where a sacrifice is really appreciated. It's not just a game ~ as simple as a ball and a bat. It’s complex ...it's a sport, it's a business - and to some people, like my son, it's  religion. Sure Baseball is only a game. True Fact. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona.

Life is like Baseball. It will always throw you curves, you just have to keep fouling them off. The right pitch will come, and when it does, be prepared to run the bases.

Unlike Football (and I really have to admit, I don't see the thrill in watching football, sorry) you can't just sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You've got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other opposite team player his chance. That's why baseball is the greatest game of them all. It just ain't like football. You can't make up no trick plays.

Every hitter likes fastballs, just like everybody likes chocolate. But I’ll bet you wouldn’t like it when someone's stuffing it into you candy bar after candy bar. I’ll bet that’s what it feels like when Tim Lincecum throws balls by you. Lincecum’s fastball is so fast, I’m surprised some batters don’t start to swing as he is on his way to the mound. Something about this 2010 season made me a true fan of Lincecum's. Not sure if it was my affinity to him being a Washingtonian like myself or just that watching him pitch had me in awe. Sure, his nickname is 'The Freak', he has long hair, he wears T-shirts with no sleeves and wears his baseball cap backwards. So what?  I also really liked  Buster Posey. Watching him work his Catching 'magic' was inspiring. I always pay close attention to the 'Catchers'.  For personal reasons, they are my favorite players in the world of baseball. I see them as the 'Captain' or the 'Leader' of the team. The Catcher is by far in the best position possible. He can direct. He can lead. He has to have a true understanding of the game itself, all the strategies. He can't stop thinking, not for a minute. Always on his toes.  He's the one who will suffer the most physical abuse in baseball. He has to catch those balls, he has to block those balls, he's always directly in the path of that ball, using his mitt or his body.  He has to prevent that stolen base. He has to mentally evaluate that umpire behind him, learn what this fella is gonna call...he has to be able to react and respond immediately. And not in a position that's easy to be in, that's for sure, squatting behind home plate. His role is team leader. He's a coach for the infield. The Coach for his team. He's like a General in the Army, leading his troops. I have nothing but admiration for the man who puts that face mask on.   For a Catcher, the practices are never too long, the sun is never too hot, the pain is never too much to bear - it is a passion.

My personal opinion is that Edgar Renteria is such a great hitter that he probably gets intentional walks in batting practice. I'm no expert on 'hitters' and I could very well be wrong but WTH?  Did we really lose him to Cincinnati? As a free agent? The guy who hit the three-run home run? The MVP in the 2010 World Series? First off I thought he was talking about retirement. Now he’s with the RedSox?  Ok, I’m confused. I'm sure my son will explain it to me.  One time I told him "Baseball wrong - man with four balls cannot walk." He explained that to me. (Ok, just kidding)

My son spent a good portion of his life gripping a baseball, and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time. Baseball had a grip on him. Still does. Always will. I now wonder about how he diapered his first child, Shadwic. I think this may have been how he did it. He would spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with himself at bat. Then he would fold second base down to home and set Shadwic on the pitcher's mound. Then he would put first base and third base together, then he would bring up home plate and fasten the three together. Of course, in case of rain, he would have to ‘call the game’ and start all over again. And now....Shad is the next generation to get the 'love of baseball'........

You just can't deny the smile on this face. I've seen that smile before. On his father's face! I couldn't be a happier 'Nana' ~ my grandaughter Kaihla loves her gymnastics and my grandson Shad loves his baseball.

 

Ok....I can't have my blog without my facebook slamming. Sorry folks, but it just makes me feel better. Bear with me.

Heard the geese start to return this morning. I just hope they don’t go overboard on Facebook with pictures from their vacation.
BREAKING NEWS: Facebook is down. Worker productivity rises. U.S. climbs out of recession.

See that was short - the facebook slamming I mean. I’ve made fun of Facebook so much, I think I should thank it for all the good times I’ve had!

Now on to my usual thoughts...you know, give you something to think about:

Is it true that the Seahawks  Stadium banned Apple iPad after players confessed to buying performance enhancing apps?
Do mountain climbers rope themselves together to prevent the sensible ones from going home?
Do you ever wonder if the people who think the world will end in 2012 just laugh uncontrollably when they purchase something with no payments until 2013? (Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. Think about it. It is already tomorrow in Australia.)
Are any of you worried about your home’s security? Here’s a thought. Put six locks on your door, all in a row. When you go out, lock every other one. It’s reasonable to say that no matter how long somebody stands there picking the locks, they are always locking three.

My final words:
Prove that lightning isn't my Finnish wizards fighting. You can't.

Got things to do now. My Welsh grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-seven now, and we don't know where the hell she is. Might be time to go looking for her.

Remember this ~ Be tender to the young, compassionate to the aged, tolerant with the weak. For in your lifetime you will be all of these. And.......Always, ALWAYS be kind to animals!　

     

Just another Monday

I'd like to say don’t worry about Monday morning. Focus on now. Not the alarm, the struggle to get out of bed & the mind-numbing, soul-destroying day ahead. Monday is the root of all evil. It’s been freak’n Monday all week. Not sure exactly why I despise Monday’s but I do. It’s not like I have to get up and go to work. Those days are over. Maybe it’s because it’s the day I have to haul garbage cans to the street. Not an easy task in the snow. Today the sun is out. There’s actually a technical meteorological term for a nice sunny day which follows two rainy days. It’s called a ‘Monday.’ My snow may be melting away as I write this, but now my entire back property is flooded. So if any of you are wondering what happens to the 'white' of the snow when it melts, well.....it's all right here in my flooded yard.

I had a great week-end though. Had a visitor from Washington State. A woman I met last year when I was in Washington for my brother's memorial. We immediately 'clicked' when we met. Not sure if it was because she had lost her husband a few days before I had lost my brother, or if it was because...well...because we are both 'crazy' women. Probably because she is Norwegian and I'm Finn. Yep, the 'Nordic' thing. Usually I don't really trust people who like me the second we meet. I'm an acquired taste.

(Sean, does she or does she not have a striking resemblance to Michele K. ? )

My dog Finn absolutely loved her black lab Tucker. Actually all my dogs loved Tucker, even Kesä. I was afraid that Tucker might see Kesä as a chew toy, but it all went really well. When it came to 'toys' I think Tucker had every one of the dog toys out. He was just an all-around enjoyable dog, full of personality. Even Shadow-Man liked him, and Shadow-Man doesn't particulary care for any 'outsider' dogs.

Easter is coming soon. I never have plans for Easter. I'm not a religious person. But I do have one question. How long do I have to sit on these Cadbury Eggs before the Peeps hatch?

My Monday Observations:

Each and every time I see a mattress on top of a vehicle I think it’s a prostitute making house calls.
　
Don't waste your money on expensive ipods. Simply think of your favorite song and hum it. If you want to 'switch tracks', think of another song you like and hum that instead.

And next, my slamming of facebook:

Nothing in this world is free and you pay by signing away your privacy when you sign up for facebook.  You have allowed yourself to become a digital lab rat whose behavior is closely monitored in a ‘controlled' environment. Think 'Big Brother',  I kid you not.
　
The most impressive thing about marathon runners is how they don’t check their facebook for 3+ hours.

Ok, short Blog. I just wanted to inform you all that due to our crappy economy, the rising cost of electricity, gas and damn near everything else, that the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off. Be safe out there.

Vickie's Monday Madness

I heard that Muhammad Hosni Sayyid Mubarak has changed his Egypt dictatorship facebook status to 'It’s complicated'. Mubarak resigned as president and he and his family left the presidential palace in Cairo. This of course sparked cheers, horn honking, fireworks, flag-waving, and celebrations from protesters around Egypt. Imagine - the people of Egypt stood up and won . Or did they? Wonder what would happen if America stood up for once? That celebration in Egypt would look like a child’s birthday party compared to the celebration in the streets of the United States if Obama announced he was resigning effective immediately. It's simple people. In America we have an opportunity to overthrow our Government every two years in Congress and every four years in the Executive branch. We just saw a serious overthrow back in November. Actually, a HISTORIC overthrow.   But ~ Egypt ~ this worries me. Egyptians think they will be getting some democracy? Muslim democracy is voting on whether to behead or to stone. This ‘peaceful revolution’ will be an islamic terrorist state within 12 months. Just watch. Egypt, the new and improved Iran and Taliban. Whatever emerges from this burned out "stonepile" that is now downtown Cairo, will not be pro-American nor, friendly towards Israel. Egypt is an 97% muslim country. Mubarack and Barack Obama. Hmmmm....seeing some similarities here. I take back my previous offer to be the new Egyptian President. I don’t need that summer vacation afterall. I’m a woman. I could be stoned to death for being just that - a woman. And I’m not talking ‘drugs’ here, I’m talking ‘boulders’. OMG, what am I doing? I’m discussing politics. I must be brain dead from all the snow. I hate politics.   

America. A country that produces citizens who will cross an ocean to fight for democracy but won’t cross a street to vote. But then again if voting actually made any difference they wouldn’t let us do it. Think about this. Americans choose from just two people to run for President yet choose from 50 for Miss America. Why the hell isn’t that reversed? When it comes to electing a President we are forced to choosing between the lesser of the two evils.

On to other world stuff, I want to hang a map of the world in my house. Then I want to put push pins in all the locations that I’ve traveled to. But first, I have to travel to the very top two corners of the map. Why you ask? - so it won’t fall down. Ok, forget it. The Arctic Ocean just doesn’t cut it for me, and I’m already very familiar with the Pacific Ocean. And now that I think about it, all the stupid pins are going to be on the left side of the world map, specifically Alaska, Canada, and the Western States. I really need to get out more.

Are you watching too much TV and not enough reading? Turn your subtitles on.  It will make you feel less guilty. Works for me. Kill two birds with one stone. 

Childhood? A long time ago. What I learned from my childhood: The sole purpose of a child’s middle name, is so they can tell when they are really in trouble. For me, the same was true if I heard my first name, because I was called Sis throughout my life. Either/Or. Imagine my fear hearing both at once - Vickie Ann ! Still gives me shivers. Speaking of childhood, at the end of my life, I firmly believe I should get a time rebate for however much time I spent learning cursive. Does anyone actually write in cursive anymore?

I love it when people drunk call me at 2 AM. Not. "Hey, are you asleep?" "No, I'm skydiving.” WTH. Sometimes I think people should have to take a breathalyzer test before they reach for the phone. Don’t call me at night, after 10 pm unless it’s a freak’n emergency! Don’t text me late at night either. Many things can be preserved in alcohol. DIGNITY is not one of them. I think a simple "Yes" is a perfectly legitimate response when asked how many drinks you've consumed.

It really sucks when your kids are all grown up and have families of their own. I want kids. I have chores to assign. 

It’s near that time again - tax time.  This will be my first year I won’t be using my Tax Attorney. Which brings this question. On TV, or in a movie, whenever someone gets audited, they have a box with all of their receipts. Who has a box? I don’t have a box. Should I have a box? Here’s my tax advice for you all. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket. Seriously. That's advice you can actually take to the bank. I want you all to take my advice: I'm clearly not using it.

I’m hoping I'll never reach the age where I'm old enough to know better. Wait....I am old enough to know better but ~ still young enough to know I can get away with it anyway. Gotta strike that one. I’m hoping I'll never reach the age where I'm old enough to know better.    The ability to strike something out is almost as pleasurable as deleting friends from facebook.

　
Remember ‘Facebookers‘, there’s a thin line between ‘I should do a status update about that’ and ‘I should talk to a therapist about that.’ (nope, I will not stop slamming facebook - see below statement of Deal with it)

Dear Family & Friends ~  There were probably many times when I may have disturbed you, troubled you, pestered you, irritated you, bugged you, or just got on your nerves. So today I just want to tell you.... Deal with it! There are NO CHANGES planned now or in the near future.

If any of you ever need any moral support, I would like to offer moral support, but I have questionable morals. But seriously, I'm here for you. 

And it continues.....the snow!

Before doing my 'snow chores' today I decided to take a walk. Just a couple blocks or so. While at a stop sign a Prius tried to race me. I totally had it  for the first 100 feet or so, but I can only walk so fast in this damn snow.
Definitely feeling the 'kindred spirit' of my Finnish roots. My father's family traveled from Finland to the Squak and Snoqualmie valleys of Washington State to put their roots near the lakes and big trees of Issaquah, nestled in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. This particular part of Washington State, Issaquah,  was similar to the Jarvinen's native land of Finland - deep woods, sometimes bitter cold. I left Washington State (for reasons better left unsaid) and settled in a very nice little region, Sonoma County. Where I lived in Sebastopol did not give me the feeling of being in the woods, unless you can call eucalyptus groves the woods ~ but I certainly had that 'country' feeling. Second best as far as I'm concerned. For some reason that didn't make me happy enough to stay there and I kept heading north. Then Northeast. Then northwest. I've been back in the deep woods for 11 years now. Now, you can't be a Finn and not enjoy the snow. It's in our blood. I'm just getting too old for this Sh** ! Feeling like I have definitely passed my “Best If Used By” date. But I keep 'plowing through' ~ so to speak. I'm actually thanking my Finnish ancestors for giving me the 'Sisu' to manage a smile on my face every time I have to grab the snow shovel. It's work, but the beauty of it all makes it worthwhile.

Kesä came in this morning showing me that she can make her own snowballs now. I was pretty impressed.

Skye-Pilot enjoys the snow by sitting on what I call  "Mt. Siberian". She will sit there for hours. Every year I have "Mt. Siberian" in the same spot. Sometimes she shares, sometimes she doesn't.  It's her 'happy spot'.

The dogs have made their own pathway from the front of the house to 'Fort Bear'. Not sure why that is their chosen spot to visit but it is.

When I lived at the 4500 foot elevation the snow was so deep that I had to shovel little 'cul-de-sacs' for my dogs, in order for them to even get around.  I'm glad living down at the lower 3500 foot elevation enables them to be more independent and do it themselves. I've just got too much to do on my own as it is. Kesä is the only one that has trouble getting around. She's just too small. Poor little girl. I'm constantly trying to locate her. Usually if I can see Finn, then I can see Kesä's ears and I know she's OK. They stick pretty close together. Must be the 'canine buddy system'.

Today, even though I had plenty of snow and it snowed periodically throughout the day, when the sun came out it was play time for the dogs and I. The winter's here where I live are pretty 'magical'. We actually have some blue skies. Blue skies and sun is just a given invitation to take a break and play!

Finn is just such a lovable dog ~ we always have sooooo much fun ~ especially in the snow!

I'm glad I have my snow buddies. These two, Finn and Kesä love the snow. They'd be out there all day and all night if I let them.

Skye-Pilot is always off and about investigating this or that, keeping an eye out for the squirrels, etc. ~ just doing her 'Husky' thing. Shadow-Man on the other hand is showing his age, 12, and it's a bit difficult for him to get around in the deep snow with his arthritis.

Once again, here is a photo for my daughter-in-law Tammi, my snow-worshiper (only because she does NOT live in it). She likes seeing the snow out the window. Of course with this storm headed her way  and the weather reports say there's a possibility of snow at the sea-level, keep in mind that she (Tammi) is at the 118 foot elevation. And Laura too, she is at the 82 foot elevation! Better get your snow boots out. Just this morning I was emailing back and forth to my friend in Missouri, Valrie, and we both decided it would be totally awesome to be sitting in a beach chair at the ocean watching snowflakes fall. Trippppppyyyyyy! Just for reference, San Francisco hasn't had any real snow since 1976. Only 3 times in the last 100 years. Bet they are freak'n out about now huh?

The snow in the back property is considerably deeper than the front property. It's still pretty much untouched. At this point I am beginning to get a little concerned about that back gate. I don't use it, but I'm hoping Skye-Pilot doesn't go out there and see that she could very easily get over it if she put her mind to it. I've never had this much snow at any given time here. Where I lived before, she walked right on top of the snow and jumped over my five foot high fence. 

After a hard day of playing in the snow and watching me snow-blow and shovel, this is how I found my dogs......................... such a hard life they live, don't you think?

                           Yes, I do allow my dogs on my furniture. They are family, after all.  

And now ~ yet another photo for Tammi. See what a great job my son did in putting my two man log saw up? Awesome, huh?

Now, being the smart woman I am, and knowing I would be out in the snow all day today, I planned ahead because I knew I'd be tired and hungry, so now it's time for me to go enjoy my wood stove cooked 7 -bone roast and red taters. Don't be upset Laura ~ I know how you love those 7-bone roasts, but I can't wait for you to come visit again before I get to enjoy one again. You snooze - you lose.

Remember this ~ Vickie is to be taken three times a day,  with water.  

Everyone is somebody else’s weirdo. I’m yours.  As usual, I leave you with these thoughts:

Evolution is just nature’s way of issuing upgrades.

Always sow your wild oats on Saturday night…then pray for crop failure on Sunday.

Don’t ya hate it when you look in the mirror and see an adult?

The best thing about telepathy is.............................I know, right?

If you  got a used UPS truck you might hate the color.... and the uniform. But you can park it anywhere.

Vickie, (yes, me) had her left side removed. I'm all right now.

 Before I go, this is for YOU, Savana. I can't do a blog without slamming facebook. I know you have a sense of humor:

Savana, search your facebook for people named Hontas. It would be so cool to poke a Hontas. ROFLMfinnishAO! If I was still on facebook, I would change my status to: “Seeking rich old men with bad hearts and no relatives” and then just sit back and cross my fingers.

Remember, life is unfair. So many rules,  so little time to break them.... but I'm tired now and want to eat my dinner. So this is the end of my blog. Hey! You think I can't hear you all clapping and sighing that big sigh of relief? Knock it off.  After dinner,  I’ve narrowed it down ~  I’m either gonna start a motorcycle gang or take a nap. You IN Doug?