We are seeing eye to eye

When you are married a long time, it gets to the place where you and your spouse seem to do everything together.  I guess we're at that point, because our cataract surgeries were just 20 minutes apart.

 For three days, it seemed as though I'd never see out of that eye again.  Everything was extremely blurry.  Yesterday there was a welcome change; I noticed if I shut my other eye and looked at the news on television with the one they fixed, I could actually read words on the television, although still very blurry.  So I'll quit my worrying.

They were going to do both of our other eyes before Christmas, but we decided we wanted to wait and find out how these turned out before we had another session.  

It's cold today; I think I'll stay inside for the most part.

I was making oatmeal cookies today, and they weren't done in the time it usually takes.  I added 5 minutes on and they seem done, but I think my oven must not be working right, because they have always been done after 13 minutes.  Wouldn't that be great, to have a defective oven on Christmas?  I have a thing to hang in the oven and check the temperature, and will use it as soon as I get these cookies done.

That's all, folks.

It's winter in Missouri

I have been trying to take my 40-minute walk in the pasture five days of each week.  This week hasn't been pleasant, but I have made four days.  The last two of those days were around 30 or so degrees, which wouldn't have been so bad except for the wind, which makes things seem a lot colder.  I dress for it, but the Carhartt insulated coveralls I wore when I milked cows in zero weather are long gone.  I do have some men's flannel-lined jeans I wear in winter both in and out of the house.  

When we had cows in freezing weather from the 1960s to the 1980s, I was the one who walked to the pond and broke the ice while Cliff was at work.  Usually I did that once a day, which means the cows were waiting when I arrived at the pond; those bony little Jersey cows would shiver as they sucked up that cold, cold water.  The little pond we used to have here was ruined by some kind of wild creatures who decided to live in the dam and keep a hole there to let out all the water.  It wasn't much of a pond anyhow. 

I do the same these days with my goats and old Mama Kitty, except that the goats' water is in a bucket, and Mama Kitty's is in a pan;  I take hot water out to melt the ice these cold days, and then try to break the ice if it's frozen too thick to melt.  Mama Kitty lets me know she needs a drink as soon as she sees me, and the goats are always waiting at their pail, knowing I'll be there; they too shiver, just as my Jersey cows did.  I also take hay to the goats while I'm outside, if they need it.  I actually enjoy having chores to do, but I am glad I'm not milking the goats!  Oh, I also count my cats' litter box cleanup as one of my chores. 

Today is supposed to be warmer, but they're saying we'll have rain.  We will see if I get my walk in today.  That will depend on the rain.  (I just took Gabe out, and it's raining now.  Blah.)

By the way, I am trying to be more regular in my posting here.  I have lost many of my words when I'm talking, but it seems I have better luck when I'm writing (or keyboarding, perhaps I should say).    

I'm reading an interesting who-done-it that I'm almost done with:  No One Can Know, by Kate Alice Marshall.  It's one I simply picked randomly, but I'll probably be looking for other books she's written at some point.

Gabe has decided he likes his sweater when it's cold outside.  You might even hear the train going past the back of our place.

On the other hand...

Cliff had an appointment with his cardiologist yesterday in Blue Springs and on the way there, we did some talking about buying beef from a farmer.  Some of you probably realize I'm not as bright as I once was (was I ever very bright?), so now I do listen to what he says if he gives me awhile to ponder what he says.  

He has always told me that even if meat isn't on sale at a grocery store, it is cheaper to buy meat there than to buy it from a farmer, then pay more to have it butchered.  I already knew it, but after looking online this morning, he is right.  His suggestion was that I just buy any cut of meat I want at any time, because that $1,000 I mentioned yesterday would likely not pay for even 1/4 of a cow: 

"On average a quarter of beef weighs about 190 pounds (hanging weight) so the final weight, after processing, would be about 123 - 133 lbs (estimated). During processing, this "yield loss" occurs in 2 ways.  About 4% is water weight lost during the 10-14 day period that the carcass is hung (or “cured”).  Then about another 30-35% is of the yield loss is fat and bones.  This amount is variable based on 2 factors – one is the amount of fat in the meat, and the other is the cuts that a customer requests.  For example, the more boneless cuts requested by the customer, the lower the final weight.  (Note that the lower weight doesn’t mean that you are receiving less meat – rather, you are receiving fewer bones)."  

If you want to know more, HERE is where I found that last paragraph.  There is a difference in the meat, but not that much.  I can't say I have ever had any trouble with the meat I buy at Price Chopper, or any other grocery store besides Walmart.

And at 80 years old, at least one of us would probably die before half of it was gone.  So I would say that if you're younger and can spare the money, treat yourselves; the meat really is better.  Just do the math and decide if it's worth it to you.  You only live once (but take Cliff with you to the butcher shop and have him look at the hanging meat; he knows what a good beef looks like from the years he was a butcher at the Country Butcher Shop).

I guess I'll let that T-bill draw a little more interest before I spend it, so when we actually need something, we'll have it.  Or, maybe Cliff will want to buy another tractor.

Digital coupons, good beef, and other stories

Most all grocery stores have a weekly ad showing their bargains, usually on Wednesday; that lasts for seven days.  I check all of those out, looking especially for the meat specials.  Ever since Covid hit, bargains have been fewer, and far between.  

We do a lot of our shopping at Walmart, but I don't usually buy meat there.  I watch Hy-Vee and Price Chopper for those; usually Price Chopper has better sales.  For years I've seen both these stores have digital coupons, but I had no idea how to use them.  Right before Thanksgiving, they had Oscar Mayer bacon for $4.99 a pound package; however, I could have gotten two bucks more with a digital coupon.  Try as I might, I could not see any way to get that coupon.  I finally decided to be brave, go to customer service, and let them see my ignorance.  The guy there was about 18 years old by his looks, and rather than tell me how to do it, he did it himself and said that's how you do it.  I could not figure it out at all, and felt like an idiot.

Finally I noticed at the bottom of the page on the Price Chopper website there is a place to type a question and get an answer.  That person told me that the easiest way to secure those coupons was go to their website with my Price Chopper card and sign in.  I was told exactly what I should look for, and where.  Honestly, it's still a bit hard for me; I think they deliberately don't make it easy.  But with a little time, I get the job done!  And that bacon is STILL $2.99 with a digital coupon.

Speaking of food, everything I see about beef is that it is only going to be more expensive.  Tyson Foods is closing plants down one by one.  Last night we were talking about that and how the meat at stores just isn't the same as what you get from a farm.  I said, "I sure would like to have good beef again, like we could get at the butcher shop where you worked in 1970."

Then we talked about how expensive that would be.  You pay for a cow (or 1/2 or 1/4 of a cow) and then pay the butcher for his work, too.  It is definitely much higher than what you buy on sale in a grocery store.

Some of you may remember my blog entry about T-Bills; you can find that entry HERE.  Well, I have a couple of $1,000 T-bills, one of which is due in early February, 2025.  That probably wouldn't be enough for a whole cow, maybe even not enough for half a cow.  But maybe a quarter of a cow?  There's just the two of us, we don't need a whole cow.  Remember, you pay the farmer, then pay the butcher; that's their living and their right.  Wouldn't it be nice for two old cronies, each with one foot in the grave, to have the best beef we can get in our dotage?  And luckily, we are here in the country with farmers all around us.

Cliff is going to talk to some people and see what we can do with some of our money.

Zinc tablets

 My husband is just getting over a terrible cold: a sneezing, coughing-all-night, mucus-spitting, mess of a five-day cold.  Like all men, he has to be told to take Tylenol, cough syrup, and various other remedies for colds that will help a person feel better while the cold is making him miserable. but he was on the mend yesterday.

It was a nice day, considering this is December.  I went on my walk in the pasture, feeling a little more tired than usual.  When I got back to the house I was tired and a bit achy, but I had noticed a cup of frozen, smashed* banana in the freezer and decided to make banana bread with it.  I rested for 55 minutes while it was in the oven, then told Cliff I was going out to spend half-an-hour letting the goats graze on their leashes; part of the time I just laid right down on the grass holding the leashes and looking up at the sky... it was so relaxing!  Gabe came running over when he noticed me on the ground to see if I was alive or dead.  

Before I left my husband asked when we could have some banana bread, and I told him quick breads are best eaten the next day after baking.  However, I figured it's been such a long time since I've baked anything for just us, I decided we'd have a slice after I got back to the house.  It was better than I remembered!

But the dishes hadn't been washed yet, so I got that done and sat down, and realized my throat was a little itchy.  I am a firm believer in Zinc lozenges, but it took awhile to find them.  They may not prevent a cold, but it seems they make the cold easier, so I try to take one at least every two hours if I feel a cold coming on.  This morning I still have a slightly itchy throat, but that's about all.  We'll see how this turns out.

HERE is what doctors say about it.

*I didn't know "smashed" wasn't a real word, but I decided to go ahead and use it anyhow!  I'm an outlaw like that.

   

About these cats

 I can't throw away a box these days; when I get a nice box and empty it, the cats jump right in.  It's the only peace and quiet I get sometimes.  However, all the cat toys and boxes make it look as though we are hoarders, but I've never much cared what folks thought of me.

I'm always opening doors:  The cats sleep in our unheated back porch at night, and that's where the litter box is.  When they meow to tell me they need to "go", I open the door to our tiny laundry room, and then the door to their room, i.e., the back porch.  When I hear faint mewing, I open two doors so they can come back with us.  I also sometimes keep the bedroom and bathroom doors shut also, unless I'm in the room with them.  As for the bathroom, they have discovered that game where they unroll the toilet paper.

One-fourth of the time, one cat is missing.  Another one-fourth of the time they are both missing.  If they're not missing, they are crawling into the lower doors under and beside the sink, jumping through my pots and pans and going from one end to the other.  

Remember that poem about "fog comes in on little cat feet"?  Oh yes, they do know how to be quiet when they are sneaking up on one another.  But sometimes they make more noise than a carpenter, and that's how they sound... as if they are remodeling the next room.

I really don't mind cleaning the litter box.  Don't forget I used to sit almost under a cow with my head in her flank to milk, and sometimes they would poop right beside me... usually watery poop, so specks of it might hit my face.  (I hope I haven't made any city dwellers want to puke.)  So far Cliff has been surprised that he doesn't smell the litter box (not often, anyway).

We'll soon be in the poor-house, as my mother used to say.  These cats are the first ones I've had to be totally housecats.  Just managing the litter-box is pricey.  The first box I had ready when they arrived seemed fine, but they had litter all over the porch floor.  My friend Jessica has a cat, and told me it would help if there was a top on the litter-box.  She was right; I bought one, but there was still quite a bit of litter all over the floor in front of the litter box.  My friend Paula said I would probably  need a special mat that will catch the litter that gets on their feet.  I've had that for less than a week, and it almost solves the problem.  I buy everything from Chewy and they love me.  My friend Joanna, a longtime cat lady and proud of it, has given me tips, too.  

In case you are worried that my cats will freeze to death in winter, I still have the cooler Cliff turned into a winter bedroom for Blue, my inside/outside cat that was killed by a predator.  It's no worse for the wear, and when it's cold, both cats crawl in and cuddle on the soft straw that's covered by an old folded flannel bed sheet.  When we leave the house, the cats stay in the porch.  I don't know if I will ever trust them enough to do no damage, sneaky as they are; also, they don't know how to open doors to their room, although every once in awhile, Butch tries jumping up to the doorknob.  But they really don't seem to suffer when we're gone.  Usually when we arrive home they are both on the top of Blue's old cat tree looking out the window, a cat tree they like a lot better than the new one I bought for them.

Wish me luck as I change into an old cat lady.

Dappled things

 

When I was twelve years old, my mother paid one dollar for a box that held all the Books of Knowledge, an encyclopedia for young people.  I learned to love poetry from those musty old 1939 Books of Knowledge, and many other wonderful things. 

While walking in the pasture this morning, I looked at all the lighted spots the sun was putting on the ground as it rose behind the tree branches and dry leaves, and the words that came to my mind whispered "dappled things".  Words from a poem I absolutely loved back in 1956, although I wasn't sure what all the words in the poem meant.  I saw grassy places in the melting snow as more dappled things.  Even my black-and-white dog is dappled.  

At this very minute I am looking down at the back of my hands, which are also dappled with what my parents called liver spots.  When I accidentally look at myself in the bathroom mirror, those white hairs on my head among the brown ones make it a dappled thing.   

Even now I'm not quite sure I know what all the words and lines of the poem mean, but I have loved them since I first read them.

PIED BEAUTY

Glory be to God for dappled things –

By Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1877

   For skies of couple-colour as a brindled cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                                Praise him.

“Pied” means having two or more colours, and it is this quality of variety that the speaker most admires about God's work.

They are all pied, or contain two or more colors. Gerard Manly Hopkins' shortened sonnet, 'Pied Beauty' (1918) gives praise to God for these peculiar, spotted, marked, and multicolored things.

A brindled cow is a cow with dark flecks or streaks on a gray or tawny background. The word "brindled" comes from the word "brined" and was first used in 1620

Laziest days of the year

I know lots of people do things in the three days after Thanksgiving:  Many people shop for Christmas gifts and put up their tree and wrap all their presents.

We stopped exchanging Christmas gifts years ago.  Last year I did put a tree up, but this year I have two half-grown cats who are total outlaws.  A Christmas tree in this house would not last one day.  I really didn't know what I would be dealing with when I acquired two cats.  My last cat, Blue, was a tiny kitten when we got him; he was the easiest cat I ever had as far as manners.  Even when we doctored his ears or shoved medicine down his throat, he wouldn't fight it.  When he put his claws on a chair, I simply showed him the scratching post and he used it from then on.

These cats scratch and run!

I am enjoying their antics, but I never realized two cats could be so wildly playful with one another.  I'm hopeful that when they are grown they will be easier to handle.  But I digress.  Let's see... I was talking about the weekend after Thanksgiving.

We haven't done much of anything in these three days.  We had a three-inch snow yesterday, so I did go out and shovel the sidewalks around the house, and I took water and hay to the goats and fed and watered our 16-year-old outside cat, Mama Kitty.  I have been taking my walks in the pasture four or five times a week and thought I'd do a shorter walk in the snow, but after shoveling the sidewalks I remembered how much harder it is to walk in snow.  

The cats loved getting by the windows and watching the snow fall.  

For the most part, we ate a few Thanksgiving leftovers, left the TV on football games we were mostly not watching... I read my current book a lot and we both surfed the net until everything bored us, and then we napped in our chairs a bit, some of us more than others.  As I looked back over the years, I realized that's been how these particular days have gone since we retired.

Just like John Prine's song, except for the cats.

The big day is here

I told my husband I wasn't going to drive myself crazy cooking this year.  To make matters easier, I did make noodles, but I made them ahead and froze them.  They will be cooked today.  I also chose to use Pioneer Woman's mashed potato recipe yesterday, put it in the refrigerator as she said to do, and will warm it up today.  Those are the only "cooked" things I made.

Watergate salad is easy.  So is layered salad.  They are done and in the refrigerator.  All I have to make today is a fruit salad that we like.  I made the usual Oreo Dessert, which isn't cooked; several people would be very sad if I hadn't.  It's the only dessert I made, hoping someone else brought something too.

Ever since the grandson who bought this place from us met his fiancee, we have had a two-family Thanksgiving in the shop, which thank goodness is heated.  It's a pretty jolly get-together with all of us there.  

Our daughter's arm decided to give her a fit over last weekend.  She won the fight with cancer several years ago, but it was in the lymph glands, so her arm has to be wrapped most of the time, which can't be fun, especially in the heat of summer.  It's dangerous if that arm gets an infection.  The doctor got her in and gave her the meds that help get her back to normal.  If it had not worked, which it did, thank God, she would be in the hospital again.  By the way, she didn't miss work, just like she didn't miss work through radiation therapy for I-don't-know-how-long except for when she actually went to do the radiation.  She doesn't talk much about all this, and I often forget how much she goes through with this "gift" cancer left her with.  I'm pretty sure she will be with us today, but the pills she takes to get rid of the infection messes with her stomach, so she likely won't enjoy what she eats; however, she won't complain about it.  I am reminded of the fact that Rachel could have died, but she didn't.  That is my biggest reason for thanking God today.

So I wish all of you a pleasant and delicious day.  If you have good health, please remember that many folks don't, so realize how blessed you are.  I'm thankful for all the people who come to my blog to read the mostly insignificant things I have to say.  May God give you all a happy thanksgiving.  

Having fun with the goats

 Someone commented on my blog a while back, asking me to get some pictures of me leading my two goats.  Yesterday my husband and I got that done.  You will notice that they are now almost the same size, mother and daughter.  The daughter's horns haven't grown as long as her mother's yet, though.  Yesterday I let them eat grass and weeds for 45 minutes or an hour, and I enjoyed every minute.  Thelma, the mother, doesn't take to being led as well as Louise, but I took them quite a long way yesterday without any real problem.  Toward the end, Louise even tried to lead me!  She was getting downright sassy!  

They can't be out of their pen because the grandson's dogs might chase them, so we buy hay for them.  That's why they act so hungry; they aren't starving, it's just that fresh grass tastes a lot better than dry hay.  So, when I can, I take them out to the pasture.  They are happy to let me hook the leashes to their collars.

Gabe is watching me with the goats

It's a good thing I have midget goats.  They are easy to handle.

When I first started thinking about leading them to grass, I thought I'd have trouble getting them in and out of the pen by myself, but it really hasn't been that hard at all.

Morning person meets night owl

My husband and I are total opposites in several ways.  The first "problem" we had after we married took me forever to deal with, even though it was a simple thing.  

I am an early morning person.  That's why, even now, when others are sleeping, I'm awake at four o'clock and glad to be alive, because morning is the best time of my day.  So the earlier I get out of bed, the more time I have to enjoy the silence, drink coffee uninterrupted, and think.  When we first married, Cliff was working from 3:30 to midnight, so I left him alone to sleep as much as he needed.  Within the first year of marriage, though, he began working daytime hours.  When it was time to wake up, he liked to doze off awhile and wake up again.  Not just once, but several times.  It was my job to wake him up, and I could not understand why I had to go in and wake him four or five times.  I'd been up long enough that I had thought about a lot of things, so I'd tap his shoulder, he'd say "OK, I'm getting up," turn over and start snoring again.  I had things to tell him, but he went to sleep.  I tried to convey my morning happiness by telling him what a wonderful day it was going to be, which only made him grumpier.  

I tried saying "Rise and shine," but I soon learned he hated that saying.

I made the mistake many times of telling him about some problem with the children, or some bill we didn't owe.  He informed me I should wait until later when he was fully awake.

It took me about ten years to figure things out:  I learned to start waking him up earlier, giving him time to wake up several times.  Before long I tried taking a cup of coffee into the bedroom on his side of the bed on his third or forth wake-up call, and that was the frosting on the cake.  He would roll over on his side to drink his first cup of coffee, almost purring like a kitty cat.  I don't know how he kept it in his mouth laying on his side like that, because I couldn't do it.  But from that time on, we had no problem with me waking him.  One weekend his sister dropped by early; I said, "Cliff will be up soon.  He's in bed drinking his coffee."

She said, "I've gotta see that!" and went running in there; she couldn't believe it.

There was never any more problem with waking Cliff up after I learned what worked.  After that I even sometimes took my guitar into the bedroom and sang a song or two.  He has always liked my singing, and was glad to wake up in that manner, the reason probably being that he can't carry a tune.  But I liked singing and he liked listening.  The kids' bedrooms were upstairs.  My daughter, a while back, told me she remembered waking up and hearing me playing and singing "Bobby McGee" downstairs.   

And that's how I managed to stay married to my husband for fifty-eight years.

 

Problems in China

I haven't seen anything about this on ABC World News Tonight, which is my favorite news show because they give me 15 minutes with no ads.  Also, I don't hear as much about politics there, thank goodness; it is mentioned, and then dropped for other news.  But apparently, there are people in China who are killing strangers when they get mad.  And they don't even have guns to do their killing!  This has been happening over and over for three months. 

Dozens of people have been killed in China in the past three months in a series of mass attacks. The latest on Tuesday saw primary school students struck by a car as they arrived for classes.

A small white SUV struck students arriving for class at Yong’an Elementary School in Changde, an inland city in China’s Hunan province.

A knife attack near a school in Beijing injures 5 people, including 3 children

35 killed as driver deliberately rams car into people in China

Knife attack at a vocational school in eastern China leaves 8 dead and 17 injured

Eight people were killed and 17 others injured in a knife attack at the Wuxi Vocational Institute of Arts and Technology in Yixing city, about 160 kilometers (100 miles) west of Shanghai in eastern China.

A man who authorities said was upset over his divorce settlement rammed his car into a crowd of people exercising at a sports complex in Zhuhai city in southern China, killing 35 and injuring 43 others.

A knife attack near a prominent primary school in Beijing injured five people, including three children. Police detained a 50-year-old suspect. No motive was given.

A 37-year-old man allegedly killed three people and wounded 15 others with a knife at a supermarket in Shanghai. Police said the man had personal financial disputes and came to Shanghai to “vent his anger.”

That's all I have today.

Winter is just around the corner

Last week we had sunny weather in the 60's.  Yesterday (Sunday) was very cloudy, but still unseasonably warm outside.  We had a little rain last night, and the word is that a cold front is coming through today or tomorrow.  We will miss our tomatoes, but it's past time for winter to settle in.

At least Gabe and I had a quiet walk in the pasture yesterday afternoon before the cold.  Normally there are always some sort of man-made noises on our walks. Nothing loud (unless it's a train coming), but motor noises from 224 and 24 highways at a distance, or an airplane overhead.  I stopped to listen and realized all I was hearing was the noises of nature, like the sound of dry leaves under my bare feet, or a bird calling.  On the way back to the house, I heard a barred owl calling and answered her, saying "Who cooks for you?"  We took three or four turns chatting, but I let her get the last word.  It isn't often you hear owls in daylight, especially one who will talk back to me.

I really enjoyed my day yesterday.  My daughter and son-in-law picked me up from church because  Rachel had called the night before saying she was making Lasagna and would bring some to us so we could all eat together.  There was enough for the four of us plus grandson Arick and Alexandria, his fiancee.  Cliff and I also have enough of it left for dinner today.  

The grandson, by the way, hit a huge deer on the way to work Friday and totaled the old car that used to be ours, a 2003 Mercury with many miles on it.  He came home, got the truck, went back to where the deer was, and somebody had already cut off it's head and taken it.  Then he and Alex went looking for a car the rest of the day.  

Our Kansas City Chiefs finally lost a game, first time this season.  They really weren't playing that great, and the Buffalo Bills could do no wrong.  I don't expect the Chiefs will be in the Superbowl this time, but what do I know?

Oh, by the way, I tried putting a leash on the goats, Thelma and Louise.  I tried them one at a time.  As long as I didn't get one too far away from the one in the pen, it worked out pretty well.  Both enjoyed eating green grass, but they want to be within close sight of one another.  I have another leash coming tomorrow from Amazon, so I can take them both around the property together. 

It's almost noon, time to heat-and-eat our lasagna, and I don't have much more to say.  So I bid you farewell.

Oh, to be a kid again

When I was a child, I knew nothing about politics.  My parents didn't even vote.  I think they finally started voting in the 70's.  I was probably five or six years old, though, when I learned they were non-voting Republicans.  There were several jokes going around about at the time that made fun of Democrats.  I got to hear some of the jokes, but there were others that my mom didn't want me to hear, so she would tell me to go outside and play.

Harry Truman became president in 1945 when Franklin Roosevelt died, and was elected for four more years after that.  We were listening to the radio one evening, many years before we had a television,  probably around 1950.  Whatever show we were listening to didn't interest me, but my parents were talking about Harry Truman as they listened.  Actually, they were making fun of him.  And before long they started laughing about what a terrible singer his daughter was.  I wanted to know what she sang, and Mother, still laughing, said, "Oh, I don't know, but it was awful."

I was thinking about that this morning, wondering just how bad it could have been. I went to Youtube and found that yes, she had been recorded.  If you'd like to hear her sing, just click HERE.  Even if Margaret Truman had been amazing, my parents and I wouldn't have liked it; it was a song from an opera, which is about as far from Hank Williams as you could get.  

Margaret was President Truman's only daughter; any book I've ever read about him portrays him as loving his wife and daughter above all else, writing letters to them almost daily when they were apart.  He was very proud of Margaret's singing.

The critics didn't agree.  Here's something I found, with help from Google:

Margaret Truman, daughter of President Harry Truman, had dreams of being a singer. She practiced hard and got professional help via operatic vocal training. But when she gave her first radio recital in 1947, reviews were lukewarm. But she soldiered on (it was easy for her to get bookings because of her celebrity status), and she kept getting bad reviews.

In 1950 Washington Post music critic Paul Hume wrote that Truman was “extremely attractive on the stage... [but] cannot sing very well. She is flat a good deal of the time. And still cannot sing with anything approaching professional finish,” President Truman wrote to Hume, "Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below!"

In 1951, a German newspaper joked that she was going to make a concert tour of West Germany in order to "inspire German approval of rearmament."

The Truman Library is in Independence, about twenty-five miles from where I live.  I've been there several times, and also visited the home he returned to after leaving Washington DC.  What he said to that music critic is how he talked to anyone he didn't like.  He actually reminded me of my father in that sense, although he would roll over in his grave if he heard me say that.  Two men who didn't care if they said exactly what they thought.

Garden surprises

I haven't done anything to my garden for over a month except to go out to see if there are still ripe tomatoes coming on.  But there's more going on than that.  Yesterday I brought in the few beets that hadn't do too well.  I got a quart and a half of beet pickles for my trouble; they won't last long, because both of us love pickled beets.  (Notice the smallish tomatoes in the background.) 

 This morning I went out with a coat on because it was 42 degrees and found other treasures.  I brought in one turnip so big that it filled up a two-quart pan.  

Then I went and got a shovel to see if the carrots I planted in late August that had done very little growing until the recent rains.  

Usually the carrots in my garden are sickly and pale.  Not now!

Yesterday I was surprised to find some nice sweet peppers.

And yes, there are still tomatoes coming on and they are still delicious.    

Our temperatures are not normal at all this year.  Or maybe this is the new normal.  

A lovely week is ahead

 Here we are in November, and I'm still finding a ripe tomato or two in the garden every day.  Last week we even had fried green tomatoes.  There are more beets than we will eat, although I may bring some in and make beet pickles.  Even if I don't can them, they are good for a month in the refrigerator.  There are also turnips out there that never filled out large enough to eat until some autumn rains came in October, and then they were fine.  I didn't plant many, since I'm the only one who likes them. 

Through next Friday, the days' temperatures are supposed to be in the 60's and sunny.  I'll take that. 

I keep reading online that inflation is being curbed; then I go to the store and see prices still rising; who do they think they're kidding?  I watch for any kind of meat to be on sale at Price Chopper in Grain Valley, although lately, about the only meat that is the really affordable on their weekly sales is pork; however, they do feature 80/20 ground beef at $3.50 sometimes... or if I were to buy those 10-pound packages, they are sometimes $3.00 per pound.  I don't get those any more, though: the beef in those long ten-pound rolls are not as good, even if they are 80/20.  Cliff says that's because it's been ground several times.

I am hoping that this week or next there will be decent prices on turkey and ham, just to have in our freezer.  Our grandson is doing the meat for Thanksgiving, so I'll just do some sides and desserts; that makes it easy for me.

It takes me longer to do a blog entry now; I never know what word I'm going to forget.  So far in this entry I forgot the words turnip and inflation.  I finally remembered turnip on my own, but had to look up something on google to recall the word inflation. 

I'm still able to go on my walks in the pasture, which is one of my greatest pleasures, right up there with my morning coffee; if my knees hurt too much I either skip a day or take a shorter walk.

As for my "zoo", all the four-legged creatures are doing fine.  Each of the kittens is showing it's own different personality, but they are definitely bonded with one another.  Gabe tries to get in the middle of their playtimes; he wants to be part of the fun!

That's about all I have.  Let freedom reign!

Thank goodness the election is over

Not that I like how things came out in the voting, but either way, it's over, and life goes on.  I don't intend to let it ruin my life.  As long as I'm out here in the country doing what I want, I don't even have to think about anything else, because my days are all the same.  The only thing that usually bothers me is those people who voted for the other side telling me how wonderful their candidate is and making fun of the other side for four years, letting me know how stupid they think I am.  And it is usually someone I'm related to, even if it's just on Facebook.  

Speaking of my husband, he finally went to the urologist on election day, after having a catheter to contend with for over three weeks.  One night he woke up and couldn't pee.  We went to St. Mary's emergency room where they quickly put a catheter in him for instant relief; they found he had a UTI and blood in his urine; blood clots were the cause of his problem.  They  removed the catheter, gave him an antibiotic, and sent him home.  Two days later, clots had stopped him up again, another trip to the emergency room.  Our regular doctor suggested he just leave the catheter in until his appointment.  (I read this paragraph to him to make sure he didn't mind my sharing his troubles, and he's fine with it.)  

How much fun can a person have?  At Cliff's appointment. the urologist spent quite a bit of time examining him, and really didn't see any problem.  He checked to make sure the prostate cancer hadn't come back, but made him an appointment the day before Christmas, just to be sure everything's all right.  

Speaking of doctors, yesterday we took Butch and Unique to the vet to get shots, de-wormed, mites out of their ears, and appointments to be neutered.  Both of the cats are coming along very well, although Butch could use a psychologist, the way he eats.  But he's getting better.

Cliff has no idea that Butch is laying at his feet

As I look out the window I see we have a foggy day, not like yesterday when Gabe and I walked in the pasture.  It was nothing but blue skies then.

Peace.

Sibling Rivalry

One of the first problems I have had with the cats was that Butch, the larger cat, is larger for a reason:  He eats a voracious amount.  I had bought some cute little cat dishes, one for each of them, with a skid-free free bottom.  Unfortunately, he thought both bowls were for him.  He would eat whole mouthfuls from his dish... until I put down a full dish for Unique.  Then he'd run over, stick his big head in the bowl, pushing her out.  If she went to his bowl, he followed her there.  Meanwhile, most of the food spilled out on the floor in the porch.  Those cat dishes were skid-free, but not turnover-free.  Besides, they don't hold enough food for Butch.  

Here you see the skid-free bottom:

I have a set of five dishes I bought at Costco.  They hold a pint and have straight up sides, as well as some weight to them.  They all came with plastic lids, and I use them a lot for leftovers.  I decided to see if they would work for the cats.

That dish works great.  However, there's no use giving the cats two of them, because they think they have to eat in the same bowl.  However, Unique can now hold her own when they eat, and she gives as good as she gets.  I put another of my bowls there for their water.  I may at some point have to give them each their own bowl, who knows.  I certainly didn't know when I bought those pretty bowls that I'd wind up giving them to cats.

We had a little road trip Wednesday

I wasn't really wanting to go anywhere, but Cliff wanted to go to Ridgeway, Missouri, to look at an old tractor like the first one he ever had, one he bought from my parents for $50.  That was back in 1967 when we had just bought a 20 acre place with a four room house, and we had very little money for anything.  I think we gave my folks $5 weekly until we had it paid off.  

A cousin of mine lives in Bethany that we hadn't seen in years, and Bethany is just a hop, skip, and jump from Ridgeway, so I called to make sure she'd be home.  

I made sandwiches and grabbed some potato chips and some tomatoes from the garden; yes, we still have tomatoes in the garden!  We each had a bottle of pop and took some store-bought cookies along for dessert.

I gave Gabe his breakfast, let him out for his morning business, and put him in his cage.  I shut the two cats in the porch and left them food and water.  I was a little worried about Gabe, because he had a tummy problem and I had taken him outside twice overnight, but he did fine through the day.  We were gone from 9 to 4.  The dogs and cats were happy to have their freedom when we returned.

We enjoyed the time with my cousin Kathleen, too.  She's ten years older than I am (doesn't look it) but is still the same jolly person I remembered. 

When Cliff started that Minneapolis Moline tractor and rode it, I was almost sure he was going to buy it.  It ran like a dream for a 1939 tractor, and the price was right.  It had been restored several years ago but still looks good.  Honestly though, unless he just wanted something to use in tractor shows and parades, it would sit around here in the barn.  And we don't do too many shows and parades these days.

 That's all, folks.

I'm enjoying the outdoors

Two weeks or more ago, I was wishing to walk in the timber.  Leaves were changing, and the dry leaves of the trees have a wonderful smell in autumn.  I have had to stop walking at various times over the years because of my knees, but once in a while I'll try again.  For some reason, it worked this time.  I don't know why old age pains sometimes get better for a while, but it happens.  Even from day to day, the pain can be more or less.  I've learned to do what I can when I can, knowing the changes aren't permanent.

I intended that first walk to be about ten minutes that day, which would get me to the nearest part of our timber.  When I got there I noticed that my knees weren't hurting yet, so I walked on about ten or twelve minutes more before I turned and came back.  Now mind you, I was walking slowly... but I was walking.

I've continued walking, probably five days weekly.  I'm going much farther now, still walking slowly without real pain, although when I wake up next day, sometimes my knees do hurt; usually it's the replacement knee, on the left leg.  On those days I don't do my walk in the pasture.

Walking like this won't last, it never does.  But I'm making the best of it right now, and it is truly a gift.  Gabe is glad to be back to walking with me, too.  I told him to sit for a portrait, which he did; but I don't think he wanted to.

It's National Cat Day!

Honestly, for my first five days with these cats (Butch and Unique), I was very busy watching them, hoping they didn't forget where their litter box is in the back porch:  There were three warm days when they first came that I could leave the door open for them, so it was easier;  cooler weather came, and the porch door had to be shut because the porch room is not heated.  However, so far they have gone to that door and meowed, and I let one or both of them in the porch.

That does present a problem though; I'm also feeding them in there.  So they may or may not want to use the litter box, or they might just be hungry.  But so far there's only been one accident, and it was my fault.  I've been keeping the bedroom doors shut until I get totally acquainted with these characters.  However, I forgot to shut the door to my bedroom once and saw Butch had followed me.  I picked him up, carried him out, and shut the door.  Perhaps twenty minutes later I realized Unique was missing.  Of course, she had sneaked into my bedroom with Butch, unseen.  Not only that, she pooped in Gabe's sleeping cage.  Oh, the smell!  However, I am glad that's where she did her business because I simply took the pad out of the cage, flushed the poop, and tossed the pad in the washer.  She might have done it in my bed instead of Gabe's!

Up until yesterday I had just about decided I couldn't handle two cats.  I've found out two cats use a lot more litter than I had expected, and that stuff isn't cheap.  Then there are the vet bills coming up.  And good grief, Butch thinks he needs to eat every fifteen minutes, so he is in there at the door meowing at the top of his lungs, but I have to keep food shut off in the porch because the dog will eat it.  

One thing about that porch, the cats love it there.  They sleep there all night.  Our old cat tree is there, and they climb to the top and look out the window.  They do a lot of wrestling in there, too.  That's where they stay when Gabe and I take a walk, because I don't want Cliff to have to watch them while I'm gone.

My husband would rather not have cats in the house, but he's trying to adjust.  It's the only way I can have a cat and be sure it won't get killed.  I should have settled for one cat, and if I could do it again, I would.  But I have them now, so there we are.