Another year finished

Since I've gotten old, I notice my husband and I both worry about things that we never would have thought about in our younger days.  

For instance, I looked ahead to see what the weather would bring this week:  in a few days it's going to get really cold here, and stay that way for quite a while.  In my younger years, I just thought of cold weather as something to get through.  I'd put my Carhartts and Muck boots on and milk the cows; after a big breakfast, I might decide to go for a walk so I could see that bright, white beautiful snow.  Now the freezing cold bothers me even before it happens.  The bad thing about that is that I get to suffer twice:  right now, because I'm dreading it, and again when it actually happens.  

As for my husband, these days he doesn't trust banks, and worries about losing "all his money".  Believe me, anybody who knows us would laugh about that.  

We have the usual aches and pains, and lots of doctor visits.  We don't get out much.  One trip to the grocery store and we need to take a nap when we return home. 

As time goes by, I realize more and more how true the Bible is when it talks about old people.  The King James version, for those who aren't familiar with it, isn't always easy to understand, so I've put a more modern version below it.  Either way, the two of us definitely fit this description.

Ecclesiastes 12:3-7

1Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them; 2While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain: 3In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened, 4And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of musick shall be brought low; 5Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets: 6Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. 7Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.

Here is a more modern translation:

1Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, “Life is not pleasant anymore.” 2Remember him before the light of the sun, moon, and stars is dim to your old eyes, and rain clouds continually darken your sky. 3Remember him before your legs—the guards of your house—start to tremble; and before your shoulders—the strong men—stoop. Remember him before your teeth—your few remaining servants—stop grinding; and before your eyes—the women looking through the windows—see dimly.

4Remember him before the door to life’s opportunities is closed and the sound of work fades. Now you rise at the first chirping of the birds, but then all their sounds will grow faint.

5Remember him before you become fearful of falling and worry about danger in the streets; before your hair turns white like an almond tree in bloom, and you drag along without energy like a dying grasshopper, and the caperberry no longer inspires sexual desire. Remember him before you near the grave, your everlasting home, when the mourners will weep at your funeral.

6Yes, remember your Creator now while you are young, before the silver cord of life snaps and the golden bowl is broken. Don’t wait until the water jar is smashed at the spring and the pulley is broken at the well. 7For then the dust will return to the earth, and the spirit will return to God who gave it.

I'm a little disappointed

I bought the Samsung gas stove in my kitchen four years ago.  Last week the oven stopped working; I could set it on 350 but it only got up to 180.  I found someone to fix it, but the part costs over $300, plus the labor it would take to put it in.  It scares me to buy another new one, because what if the same thing happens?  I miss the old days when kitchen stoves, refrigerators, and washing machines lasted for twenty years and more!  I'm tired of making Home Depot rich; last year we bought a washer AND a refrigerator at different times.

I would really like to buy a used stove that works, but we use propane gas, and I've never found a used stove that is equipped for propane.  For now, I'll use the electric skillet like an oven, use the crock pot and Instant Pot, and the burners on top of the stove.  I won't be making pie or cookies, but we won't starve.  These days I hardly ever make pie anyway.

We have been having lots of foggy weather and I'm seeing that we will get temperatures in the low 20's at night.  I just hope there isn't a lot of wind with the cold air, so I can still bundle up and take my five daily walks per week.

My Christmas gift was simply watching the Chiefs win!  They had not been up to par lately, but it looks like they are back, and they played three games in 11 days to do it.  I wonder if the Steelers fans thought about the snowballs they threw at our team one year ago?  I wonder if they still think the officials go easy on the Chiefs and let them get by with anything?  Good grief, the flags were flying all through the game, and it was mostly on the Chiefs (as it should have been). 

OK, that's all I can think of right now.  I hope all my friends had a good Christmas.

How are the cats doing, you ask?

We'll get to that, but first I will tell you that Butch has a birth defect; not to worry, though.  I took them to the vet soon after I got them and mentioned his "broken" tail.  The lady I got him from had mentioned that she didn't know how his tail got bent, but I've had a couple cats over the years that gotten their tails caught when someone closed the door on them, and figured that happened to Butch.

The vet said since it was his tail he'd be alright and not to worry.  It's scoliosis, but since it's his tail, he's fine.  I've googled this though, and it could be he might have problems later... he has a very slight limp for one thing.  I still won't worry, believe me.  If the worst happens we'll take care of it by putting him out of his misery.  If you are interested in reading about this condition, it's HERE.  It's caused by inbreeding.

I've finally gotten them eating properly without Butch trying to eat out of both bowls, squeezing Unique out all the time.  They aren't quite as crazy as they were.  They are taking long naps on chairs in the afternoon.  I'm having trouble with them clawing my furniture, but I have some clawing posts coming that may help.  I will confess that it would have been better to just have one cat, but the two of them have given me a lot to laugh about.  Unique has chosen Cliff as her human, and gets on his lap often. Butch is still trying to be the boss in this house, and he is still fearless.

And now, some photos taken recently:

Nap time

Whose cats are these, anyhow?

They have two of these cat-mats and have great fun with them

There's nothing better than a box to play with

Who wants a treat?  Those two dogs on the left belong to my oldest granddaughter, who captured this picture.

Debby, is this all you needed to know about the cats?

Songs my mother taught me

I believe my mother thought I would grow up to be a famous singer.  She'd hear a song on the radio that she liked, and then go to a music store and buy the sheet music of the song.  She'd teach me the song, find someone to play the piano for me, then she'd find someplace for me to sing it where folks would hear it.  Some were country songs of the early fifties: SlowPoke, by Peewee king; Mister and Mississippi, by Patti Page, which I sang with a little boy at some program.  We were dressed like tramps, me with patches on my dress, the boy with overalls, carrying a stick over his shoulder that held his backpack.  I'd sing one verse, he'd sing another.  She made me learn a love song, My Heart Cries for You, at the age of seven; I hated that lovey-dovey thing, although I still remember the words.  

The Preacher had asked me if I'd sing a song for last Sunday, and I told him I could probably come up with something.  His daughters had sung a Christmas song about the moon and stars a week before, and that reminded me of a Christmas song Mother made me learn called Star of the East.  I think I sang in at Christmas program at the one-room country school I went to, but in all the years since, I never heard it sung at any time on a radio during the holiday season.  I couldn't find it on Youtube until a few years ago, but it is there now.  Judy Garland had a record of it in 1941, three years before I was born.

I did a video just now of it.  Forgive the times I go off-key, especially on the high note.  But I am, after all, 80 years old; so it's a wonder I even come close to carrying a tune!  Consider it my Christmas card to you.  

I had myself an adventure

I went for a walk Friday, I believe it was.  On one of the "fingers" of our land where I turn around and walk back, lately I have been noticing that particular path that goes down, down, down to to very back fence of our property.  I've climbed every hill back there when I was younger, looking for blackberries or mushrooms, or just because I love  the peace of the place.  I have noticed how much stronger my legs are lately, and I wanted to see if I could get down there under my own power.  Of course, what goes down must come up, but after about a week of thinking about it, I was sure I could climb back up, even if I had to sit down and rest every five minutes.  I didn't tell Cliff I'd be gone longer, but I knew if he got worried he'd call my cell phone; if that didn't work, he'd hop on the four-wheeler and come find me.

And down I went!  When I first started, Gabe stayed behind, knowing he and I have never gone there before.  I had to ask him twice to follow me.  It took awhile, but after going through wet spots from a spring that flows out of the ground and climbing over several fallen dead trees, I made it, entered my favorite canyon, and decided to let my friends see this part of our place.

This is the hill I climbed up when I was done in the valley.

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.