Category: Home


Springtime is a great time!

I have to say, this time of year was my favorite when my kids were young.

We would put a picnic together and head down the “draw” to our favorite spot. Wild onions, lupine, balsam root, animals…we never knew what we would find.

Four wheeling down the canyon, then hiking in to the old house for a picnic.

Of course, winter days playing in the snow were great, too.

I felt like a stay-at-home mom on my days off, like I had the best of both worlds. Oh, I did!

Ann Romney

Watching Ann Romney take her hits in the media, I can’t believe we are still living in the dark ages.

I don’t care what political party you belong to, I believe in CHOICE.

Long gone are the days when men chose what was best for the little lady.

Cropped screenshot of John Wayne and Angie Dic...

John Wayne, I’m sorry, but you are a dinosaur.

Unfortunately, some of our harshest critics are other women, not men.

What is wrong with us? Can’t we be happy for someone else? Just because you can’t afford to stay home doesn’t mean no one can.

When I was flying, people never could get used to my schedule. “Oh, you’re home? How long were you gone this time?”

Many people believed I was always gone, and I could hear their criticism thousands of miles away.

Taken on one of my "rare" days home.

I worked eleven days a month.

I feel the old defensiveness creeping in just writing this.

Why do people feel they have a right to judge you for your decisions? Why did I care?

In the three weeks I spent at home, I volunteered at the school.

I had so much time off that it was easy to help at school and with 4H cooking.

I played with my kids, cleaned house, made dinner, read books, took pictures…my days were always full.

I loved being home, but I also loved work.

I loved being at work, but I couldn’t wait to get home.

The push/pull and tug of heartstrings is hard enough without the judgment of other people, especially other moms.

Stay at home moms help all of us.

They are the ones who fill the cracks and volunteer on days no one else can.

Look around. There is still no other career more important than raising kids.

But in our society raising children is still not valued. So we have to value ourselves.

Every day at home is a day creating security and beautiful memories. We forget how nice home is and how safe our children feel being there.

Springtime calves...

Vacations are great, but my kid’s fondest memories are probably at home on the ranch.

Darcie with Jackie's pig.

No one can live your life but you. If it works for you and your family, that’s what counts.

I think having conflicting emotions is normal. That said, I think we need to get better at being where we are.

Fairmont Springs hot pools in Canada...what an awesome vacation!

We need to live in the moment. We can’t forget to thank God for all we have right now, today.

I know that I wanted nothing more than to stay home - once I had children. Then, when I did stay home more, I wanted to be back at work.

I felt like a schizophrenic.

But it’s that constant push/pull tugging that we feel inside us that helps us decide who we are and who we want to be.

Without self doubts and re-evaluating our decisions we would just be swept along by life.

Life is a fast moving river....

Instead we have choices that we can reaffirm each day.

We all have those days when we question ourselves; when things are not perfect.

But if you pay attention to the overall course of your life…you’ll be able to tell.

Inside, in your heart, how is life going? Do you wake up grateful for all that you have?

I think about the day before I go sleep and thank God for all of it.

I am so lucky for what I have today, right now.

Swimming at the John Day Breaks, two miles from our house...another vacation?!

A good friend of ours died from brain cancer this week. Losing people we love too soon is never easy, but this was especially hard.

Bill putting a garden window into Darcie's room

Bill wanted to live to see his grandkids grow. He fought so hard. He had such a positive spirit. When the MRI was clear this fall, the doctors told him he was one for the record books.

Then the next appointment they gave him until April. It was like being on a roller coaster, up and down, euphoria and depression.

I love aerobatics but I hate roller coasters.

Maybe I’m just angry because it shows, once again, how little control we have over anything. Maybe I’m sad because life just isn’t fair, and once again, this proves it. I don’t know. My mom has lost three husbands, so I’m no stranger to death. Bill’s wife has now lost two husbands. That’s part of my frustration – it is so hard on the ones left behind.

One of my girlfriends just doesn’t understand how a loving God could let this happen. I think it is so much more complicated than we can understand at our level. God is Love and “HE” isn’t up there on a throne whacking and hurting some people while finding parking places for others.

Pacing and kicking things in my yard the day Bill died, I thought about all these things. I also thought about possessions and stuff. Bill wanted to take the blanket my niece (his granddaughter) made him for Christmas when he died. So it went with him to the funeral home. (I started crying when I found this out….)

Delaney, my niece. She made a U of O blanket for Bill for Christmas. That was Bill's only big flaw: he loved the Ducks. :)

My daughter thinks “things” are too important to me. The truth is, I like my house and my stuff – and all the memories that go with it. But I don’t need them. And I do appreciate the thought and effort that went into some of my possessions that people made or gave me. They represent and remind me of their love for me.

Maybe some people hang on so tightly to too many things because it makes them feel more “in the world” – more tied to it. Safer.

 I’m not afraid of death. I came so close a few years back…but I’m still here. Why? Unfinished business? Luck of the draw? All I know is that the fear left me.

But given the choice, no matter how wonderful the afterlife is, I want to stay on earth longer.

When Bill moved to the county years ago, we hired him every time we saved enough money for another project.

Bill built our deck, put in new windows and doors, added walls to our dirt basement, a mudroom, a fireplace, two bathrooms and a bookcase. We loved having him here, and kept him from working by talking with him constantly.

Bill was just one of those people who could carry on a good conversation about anything. You wanted him in your house and your life.

We painted the basement once Bill was done!

We put a futon down in the basement and actually slept down there once. I swear I could feel the bugs crawling all over me all night.

The kittens liked the new deck!

My new bay window lets in so much light!

The only good thing out of all this is that, wherever we look, we can remember Bill every day.

Even this photo of my kids was taken in front of the fireplace Bill installed.

Brain and pancreatic cancers are horrible ways to die. But I believe it’s even worse for the loved ones involved in their care.

My grandpa went up to take a nap and died in his sleep. That’s the way to go, I think.

All I know for sure is that Bill will be missed…and remembered.

Grandaddy died in his sleep. That's the way to go.

I wrote this poem when I was so sick. I believed it then, and I still do, but sometimes it doesn’t help:

   CASTLES

I BUILD A CASTLE WITH MY HANDS…

MOLDING SHIMMERING, SHIFTING SANDS.

IN MY MIND I CLEARLY SEE

WHAT THIS CREATION MEANS TO ME.

TO TOUCH.  TO FEEL.  TO SEE.

MY LIFE IS A CASTLE IN MY HAND…

BUILT OF COUNTLESS GRAINS OF SAND.

CAREFULLY, PATIENTLY FORMED BY ME,

INTO A PERSON I ‘M PROUD TO BE.

I LIVE.  I LOVE.  I SEE.

LIKE THE CASTLE IN THIS RHYME…

A WAVE COULD TAKE ME ANYTIME.

AM I FINISHED, READY TO GO?

HERE IS A SECRET THAT I KNOW.

AT ANY TIME, MY CASTLE IS COMPLETE…

FINISHED, SPRAWLING AT MY FEET.

UNTIL IT IS GONE, I ADD TO IT:

A SHELL, A FEATHER, ANOTHER TURRET.

THIS IS MY LIFE, SHINING IN THE SUN…

AN INCOMPLETE PROJECT, ONCE BEGUN.

WHETHER I DIE NOW OR AT ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

I AM EVERYTHING I WAS MEANT TO BE.

LIFE IS A TREASURE IN MY HANDS.

TIME IS THE WAVE THAT WASHES MY SANDS.

I love life.

                                                                            

Our house and shop 1/20/2012

There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home….

I love to travel and I love to be home.

How can that be?

Isn’t that some sort of impossibility?

A paradox?

Airport Sheraton, MIA after our cruise

Swimming in Miami one day, ending up in freezing rain the next.

Seattle Airport virtually closed after we landed.

Renting a Jeep at a horrific price because there are no flights leaving and the hotels are full.

Driving through the Columbia Gorge where traction devices are required for vehicles over 10K.

Does that mean the semis get to stop in the middle of the freeway to put on their chains? Seriously?

Listing power poles…

Powerline poles crashing down on the roads…arcing fire.

Doesn’t anyone clean the ice off the lines now that the farmers aren’t allowed to?

Has anyone considered…underground power lines????

Coming home to no power…and beautiful snow!

Broken poles….

Broken tractor... :( Road closed due to four more broken poles. So much for Wasco Electric and Sherman County maintenance...where does all that wind tower money go?

Lighting all my candles…the house smelled like a fir-pina colada-fruit salad!

Watching a movie on Colt’s computer, snuggled up on the couch…enjoying it?!

Our frozen deck

Power lines almost on the ground...

Icicles. Sunlight shining. Snow covered foothills and stubble.

Beautiful wheat fields and wind towers

Frozen wheat stubble!
View out my front window…

Decadence. Pure decadence.

Sledding down the hill…with a Ranger on tracks to pull the sledders back to the top!

Ranger on steroids…

After all, home is where the heart is!

Except this heart dessert was on the Panama Canal cruise we just came back from!! :)

I went to a UNS (Ulan Nutritional System) symposium in Clearwater, Florida early December. The theme was nutrition, nutrition, nutrition and kids, kids, kids! The point was really hammered home, and my next blog will be about autism and muscle testing/muscle kinesiology. Then, sports injuries and healthy pregnancies. I learned a lot.

White sugar, closeup, cube, cubes, seven, sugar, sweet, white, photo

Could nutrition be the answer for our problems? It seems too simple. Could white sugar and flour be responsible for many of our diseases and ills? I never thought so.

White Bread

The more interested I have become in Nutritional Response Testing (muscle testing), the more I have learned about the human body and disease. I’ve been clearing the cobwebs off my biochemistry, microbiology, anatomy and environmental health background. It is exciting to hope that we have a place to start – that we can reverse many of the health concerns and declines through diet and supplements.

Me, with Taylor, on a downhill slide....

For years I’ve taken vitamins, antioxidants and tried to eat right. Yet I still had cancer (twice), joint issues, stomach trouble and a racing heart. I could feel myself declining, and it was scary to me that I couldn’t do anything about it. I changed my lifestyle completely:

                                            1) Retiring from a job I loved that was slowly killing me

2) Eating better

3) Getting more exercise

                                            4) Being stress free (Having fun, only doing things I loved, etc.)

Yet I still didn’t feel great. I just couldn’t get on top of things.

Tough to get on top...

I didn’t eat badly. Really, I didn’t. One cup of coffee in the morning, one glass of red wine at night. I love salads and vegetables more than fruit…I like fish and grass-fed beef and free range chicken and eggs. I switched to olive oil and butter, and tried to eat whole grain breads and pasta. Last summer I took a healthy gourmet cooking class. White sugar was out of my house. So why is my weight still creeping up and why did I feel just okay?

Muscle testing showed my heart needed support, and also that I had parasites and titanium in my system. I had tried muscle testing before, but no one had placed me on a long-term program with bi-weekly monitoring. The biggest point that was hammered home:

                                        1) Diet, diet, diet. Supplements can only do so much. Diet is the other 70%. Eat protein for breakfast. Cut out white sugar. Completely. I had it out of the house, but not totally out of my diet, especially at restaurants.

                                         2) Keep a food log…pay attention to how I feel and how I am sleeping. Look back over the last 4 days of food when I have issues.

Getting back on top...

Within weeks of taking the whole food supplements that I tested for, I felt better.

Now, months later, the trend continues.

I’m taking Standard Process whole food supplements to help my body heal itself. No covering up the symptoms anymore. I have more energy. My heart is stronger. I even ran my Mom’s little dog, Ruffy, around her complex without getting short of breath, and no, I haven’t been working out per-se. My heart has stopped the up-in-the-throat beating that was so annoying and scary. (But a stress test on the treadmill was fine….)

The white dog in front is Ruffy. At 14, he can still run around the building with me! I ran with him in June and I could only run for a minute, period.

All I know is that if I can feel this much better this fast, maybe there is hope! And if we can get kids and pregnant moms to eat better, future generations should get healthier and healthier.

Pilots look down the road, not right in front of them....

Wrapped pictures, a few decorations...I'm ready!!

What does it take to be happy? Gratitude for what I have seems to work the best. Being with people I love is the most important part of the Christmas holidays for me.

Colt and I had this puzzle together in record time!!

A girlfriend of mine who doesn’t celebrate Christmas was telling me how the whole Santa Claus, presents and celebrating Jesus’ birth at the wrong time of the year just doesn’t work for her. I get it, really I do. The media and “Buy, buy, buy more” mentality is way overdone.

But I loved the Lego set the boys bought me!!

I think that the Christmas holiday, for me, is just a cool way to make winter more bearable and to remember how lucky I am. I don’t need the presents, and I already believe deeply in God, but I love the songs and the lights and the decorations and the season of giving. It makes me happy!

My perfect tree....

This was such a laid back Christmas. I didn’t get everything out…just enough to be festive. The guys used the bucket truck to decorate outside, and picked up a beautiful tree I bought at the Christmas bazaar. I wrapped all my canvases, and put out my favorite decorations.

I was fast enough to get a candid picture of Kevin on Christmas morn...

But not Colt!!

My friends all baked goodies for Colt because they know I’m trying not to eat sugar. (I can’t bake without tasting…sad but true.)

We had Kevin’s parents over for Christmas day, and Kevin’s turkey and stuffing, rolls and mashed potatoes were awesome!! (Pecans, sausage, celery, onions, sage…etc.) I made a spinach salad and fruit salad and deviled some eggs. We just took life easy, talking and eating and enjoying everything life has given us…like the roof over our heads and food on our table.

Then we drove them back to their house and went to see the new Mission Impossible movie as long as we were in the big city of The Dalles! Colt went to a bonfire with friends. Life is good, and I am just happy to see another birthday and Christmas. Now that I’ve had a life-changing illness (yes, the big C) every birthday and holiday is even more special.

Only 1068 pieces!!

Colt found the pieces for me...a true role reversal!!

Memories of Christmas’ past…shades of It’s a Wonderful Life or Scrooge’s The ghosts of Christmas past!!

For my Barbie!!

Me thinking about retirement...

Kicking and screaming, I retired. Well, I didn’t kick too hard. I was jet lagged and tired. I felt like an old clock that was running down. But my whole being was still hooked into being a pilot. It took forever to unplug. Every bit of self-importance and identity was orbiting around that “pilot” center. I didn’t realize it, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be that way, but I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t flying.

Six years later, I think I know. I’m the same person I always was, but better. I’m more relaxed, happier – just okay being me. You don’t like me? That used to be a bad thing. Now I realize, finally, that trying to get people to like me is nuts. What is even more nuts is trying to get people to like me when I don’t like them. As a copilot, I used to try so hard. Why didn’t I just fly the airplane and let it go? Why did I care so much about what they thought? Because I was a people pleaser to the max. Sad but true.

Why do we grow being people pleasers?

I love people, and I love doing what I can for them, but I know I can’t live their lives for them or fix them. I want to be the tool box: I’m glad to share my tools, but I don’t want to be their carpenter. They’ll have to build their own house…I just don’t think it helps to help too much.

I’m not angry that so much money is going to welfare or inner cities or any of the causes that seem so good. I’m just sorry that it doesn’t help. Giving and giving and giving until you have nothing doesn’t work. I wish it did. But I think the best way to teach others is to show them. Just live life the best you know how, and hope people want to emulate you.

So many kids nowadays are not surrounded by happy adults. The people around them are just getting by – just getting through the day and their life. How can you be excited about growing up and going into the world if it doesn’t look like anyone is enjoying their life? Why do kids dream about being athletes and movie stars? Because those people look like they are having fun! Look like is the key phrase here, and that discourages kids even more, because if those who “have it all” aren’t living great lives, how can they?

Kids should be excited about growing up.

I’m not trying to oversimplify or be a Pollyanna, but I don’t know how else to put it. Enjoy your life. Wake up every morning and spend a few minutes looking at the ceiling and thinking about the day. I ask God to help me be the best I can be: loving, kind, full of integrity, caring, grateful. I honestly don’t think most of us can live our best lives without asking and listening for guidance.

We human beings are reactive. We don’t, for the most part, live from “the inside out” as Christina Sestan says. http://www.citruscoaching.com/ But we would be happier if we did.

I don’t get up in the morning and watch the news. I can’t handle all the suffering in the world before breakfast. Hell, I can’t even handle it after a bottle of wine with friends. It is too much to know all the sorrow and trouble in the world. I don’t care if someone in North Carolina just got murdered. Wrong, I do care: I care too much and that is the problem, but I live in Oregon. To quote John Mayer, it’s not that I don’t care – it’s just that the fight ain’t fair.

It is too overwhelming, too all-consuming, for me to think about the tsunami in Asia, the nuclear melt-down in Japan, our government’s huge debt, the lives lost in an airliner crash. My inner psyche gets overloaded – it’s all too big, depression sets in, and nothing gets handled. None of us have the capacity or the knowledge to handle so much sadness and chaos. My niece used to come home crying because her biology teacher told them about all the animals going extinct and how the world was falling apart.

Do we need to know about every problem in the world?

Really? Seriously? What is going on in our schools today? How are we teaching our kids to cope? Maybe we aren’t. I’m not sure we are even teaching logic any more, but if you don’t learn to think logically, you can never think anything through. You can never put anything in perspective because you can’t reason through it.

So, if you want to wake up every day and enjoy your life, you better decide what you are going to let in. Neighbors who gossip and are negative do not share morning coffee with me. But sometimes they sneak in my back door or into my head and I can’t get rid of them.

When did people get so judgmental and cruel? Oh, I guess they always have been…thinking about Nellie Olson and her mom on Little House on the Prairie.

No one deserves the cruel gossip that I keep hearing. No one.

So how do we fight the negativity, the meanness? Because I want to go to bed every night with a heart full of love and kindness. I like to think that, if my dad and grandpa are up in heaven watching, they’ll be proud of how I turned out. I want to live the virtues they taught me: integrity and kindness, love and thoughtfulness.

When I hear people badmouthing others it just makes me sad. I want to cry for them. I want to have compassion and try to understand where they are coming from. Instead I get angry. How can they be so cruel – so mean? I want to run far and fast before I get dragged down into the muck and mire with them.

I want to live consciously, caring for others. I want to be compassionate, feeling empathy, not judgment.  It is so easy to forget how much our words can cut and hurt another person who does not deserve our cruelty. I know that I am accountable for my thoughts and actions.

It is easy to hurt people we love without meaning to.

My girlfriend, Patti, first told me about Pinterest. http://pinterest.com/pinterest/

My first thought? I don’t have time for more web time! But this site is right up my visual-brain alley.

Good ideas are at my fingertips without all the Google Trash. Seriously, every time I Google it takes me forever to sort through the crap. Pages of paid advertising when all I wanted was the straight scoop or to see what other innovators like!

The first thing I looked up was “barnwood painting” because our old barn fell down. Great ideas!

Sob…no more barn.

Lots of good wood....http://pinterest.com/search/?q=barnwood

http://pinterest.com/pin/244837288/

Voila!

Barnwood coasters - more ideas!!

http://pinterest.com/pin/175628521/

Moving onto home decorating…baking…cooking…art…my friend’s names started popping up, and I could see their ideas.

My pinhole pumpkin popped yesterday once I lit the candle, and I can’t wait to get to the beach and try the colored circle chalk game with Taylor! Oh, and the string balloons….

See the old shed on the right? What to do...

Oh, and I needed ideas for my garden shed.

Google sheds and get good ideas on images, but they are all for sale. Pinterest sheds and get tons of great ideas just for fun.

Cute!

“Think of Pinterest as a virtual pinboard — a place to catalog and share the things you love. Pin anything that catches your eye: memorable …” Apps store

It’s fun to see what other people like – a quick and easy way to feed your optic nerve. Great ideas…fun to share.

I love the idea of collaging, but never have the time. Now I can collage in seconds, with no mess!

http://pinterest.com/kathymccu/holiday-magic/

Life is just fun.

Staying young..that's the key!

I don’t think I will ever be someone who is bored in retirement. As long as I can keep learning, I hope and pray I can stay young mentally.

I still love to fly.

I still love to fly. I know airports are more of a hassle and I know people say it isn’t as fun as it used to be. But I still love to travel. There is so much to see in this world.

I love to learn by taking photography classes, cooking classes, writing classes, nutritional classes and art classes.

Taking cooking classes across the river at Maryhill Winery

I never want to be the know-it-all who tells everyone one else what to do and how to do it…the one who judges everyone else and has all the answers.

I'm not afraid of alligators. Well, maybe just a little... at least a healthy respect.

People who have to be right are probably just insecure and scared. But they are hard to be around because they project their fears. It’s hard to be happy if you are afraid, I fear.

Don't be afraid of life.

The older I get, the less I have figured out. Or is it the wiser I get, the less I know? Everything from politics to religion – the unmentionables, to new ideas and a changing world: I don’t want to be the one talking about how much I miss the good old days or how this world is going down the tubes.

Too often if I take a hard-line stance on something I turn out to be wrong. For me, the key is staying open-minded, listening, and considering viewpoints counter to my own. I want to keep trying to understand: Why do they do that? Why do they think that? Why do they believe that way? What am I missing?

It’s the old Indian “walk in my moccasins” cliché, but it’s true. Different cultures, upbringings, and experiences create completely different ways of thinking and doing. It’s not black and white or right and wrong. It’s shades of gray, with lots of middle ground.

I could stay in one place, do the same thing, and enjoy my life just as much. But meeting new people with new ideas stimulates me. Observing and questioning the world around me, I grow and change. Then I go home happier and, hopefully, more interesting and positive to be around.

This is the most beautiful time of year and I love the cooler days, the smell of fall, and the colors of autumn.

But I hate hunting season, especially the first day of deer hunting. No, I am not a vegetarian, and yes, I love meat. I don’t care if you shoot Bambi as long as you eat the venison.

What is it in the air that makes guys come out of the woodwork with their shotguns and turf wars? What kind of craziness cause normally sane men to lie and trespass? It can only be a combination of gun powder, blood and caveman instinct that appears when the moon is full, or in this case, when antlers have sprouted.

The land we farm zigs and zags through canyons and draws. Most of the fences have been torn out, and the fields run together. Only the farmers seem to know exactly where one field ends and another begins. To add to the confusion, what is fallow or unplanted one year is in crop the next, so the landscape changes from year to year.

All the more reason for hunters to know their boundaries and not wait until the last-minute to contact the land owners for hunting favors. The hunters come, leaping for joy – their only care in the world to shoot the elusive 10 point big buck. They can’t understand why you don’t want to hunt with them or listen to their stories about the big one that got away.

Unfortunately, they don’t realize farmers here just finished harvest. Now they are seeding thousands of acres within weeks. My husband has tunnel vision, and all he can think about is getting the next crop into the ground. This is a busy and critical time of year. Unless a farmer hunts, he probably isn’t interested in stories and camaraderie right now. He’s tired from twelve hour days on the tractor, and it isn’t a picnic to have people camped on your living room floor – it is a royal hassle.

I love the company. And I love the treats hunters bring…wine, cheese, smoked salmon – yum! But oh, I feel like I am in the middle of a kindergarten class of children pointing fingers. Yes, I know who is lying and telling the truth – especially if they mention some long-dead relative who gave them permission to be here.

Run Bambi Run!

Hoards of  ”friends” and long-lost cousins come out of the woodwork. They fight each other for canyons and draws, arguing over who was first and who said who could hunt where.

“But last night Kevin told me I could hunt here.” No, actually Kevin said you could hunt there if no one else was already there…ah, semantics.

“What do you mean this is your ground? Kevin said it was his.” No, Kevin showed you the borders and you forgot where they were. You crossed the road or fence line you shouldn’t cross, and now you’re scared you’ll be thrown in jail, so you throw Kevin under the bus to deal with the problem instead. Nice.

Every year we end up telling people they can’t hunt here anymore. “Don Macnab told me I could hunt here. He gave me permission.” Hmm, Uncle Don has been dead fifteen years at least.

Miles and miles of land. Who would even notice if I trespassed to shoot just one little deer?

When you catch them in a lie, they back-pedal fast. But what makes them lie to begin with? Who does that? Some of our landlords have land leased out for thousands of dollars…others come to hunt on their own ground. You can’t trespass – they will call the sheriff.

And then there are the idiots on their four wheelers or in gas pickups who go cruising through the tall grass and wheat stubble. We haven’t had rain for so long that I could start a fire just by rubbing two sticks together. My girlfriend almost lost her house today. Maybe this isn’t my favorite time of the year after all.

I might have to get my gun-toting neighbor to come help me deal with trespassers....

Look out, here comes my neighbor!!

Okay, some parts of hunting season are fun!

The end!

My second (and final!) wedding!

Is there a perfect wedding?

Only if you accept the fact that it won’t be perfect.

Me with my wedding doll, Debbie

Weddings…the event every girl waits for, plans and dreams of…. I should know. I planned my perfect wedding. Well, almost perfect.

My parent’s wedding pictures looked perfect.

Thinking about my big event brings tears to my eyes, and I don’t mean tears of joy.

“Can’t we just elope?” my fiancé, now husband of 23 years, pleaded. “I hate weddings.”

I wasn’t beneath pleading. “I want this to be the wedding of my dreams. We can afford it – we’re both doing well financially, and it really means so much to me. My first marriage was such a disaster. I want this one to be so special. It doesn’t have to be large…I just want bridesmaids and a pretty dress.”

“I don’t want to wear a tux…” he moaned. He’s a rancher. His normal attire: 501 jeans, tennis shoes, tee shirt and baseball cap.

“Please?” I was not beneath begging, but didn’t know how to bat my eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wear a tux if you only have one bridesmaid.”

“Three?” I cajoled. I only had one the first time.

He caved. Whatever I wanted was fine with him. Just as long as the wedding stayed small. He didn’t want a church full of people watching him.

Yes! I had free rein of the event. “We” chose a beautiful landmark church and decided to have his father, the county judge, marry us.

My guest list wasn’t long. After all, my family and friends were thousands of miles away in Florida and Minnesota.

However, we went through the entire phone book inviting his family and friends. “I thought you wanted it small?” I remarked. He claimed there were too many people who would be hurt if he didn’t invite them.

Two hundred and fifty invitations later, his aunts, his mother and I finally finished addressing, licking and stamping. Thirty of them were mine.

Thousands of dollars later, the reception food was ordered. At twenty-five dollars per tray, I picked my hors d’oeuvres carefully.

I ordered a huge chocolate cake with raspberry filling, lots of champagne and an open bar for beer and wine.

Airplane tickets were expensive, so, I asked two girlfriends in Minnesota to be my bridesmaids because I knew they were able to get free passes. My future sister-in-law would be my third.

My husband- to-be asked his brothers to stand up with him, since his friends hated being in weddings. Only later did we learn that his friends’ feelings were hurt. They wanted to be in his wedding – go figure.

All my girlfriends were strapped for money, so I bought their gowns and shoes. I ordered floor length dresses made of rustling silk in a beautiful teal color. I could hardly wait for everyone to try them on.

Finally the store called…the dresses were here!

Me with my girlfriend Susan

We made a party of it – three of my girlfriends and my daughter, who was four years old. One of my girlfriends brought her two children along, too. It was a zoo. The kids were tearing around the dressing rooms like maniacs.

I could hardly get my little monster to try hers on. “Now can I take it off and go play Mom, please? We want to go play in the dressing rooms.”

“Mine’s too short. It will have to be lengthened.” my girlfriend complained.

“There’s not enough hem to have it lengthened.” The sales lady explained.”It really looks fine. You’ll just have to wear flat shoes.”

I loved the way the dress looked on her.

“I look terrible in flat shoes. I only wear high heels.” Cathy wailed.

“Mom, can I take mine off now?” I nodded.

Me in my college roommate’s wedding.

“Mine is okay. I don’t like the color on me, though.” Now it was my other girlfriend’s turn to complain.

“It looks beautiful on you, with your dark hair.” I answered. Susan, my other girlfriend who had joined the party, agreed.

“I don’t like green, though. Can we change the color?” Lynda asked.

“Yes, let’s just order new dresses, then mine will be long enough.” Cathy chimed in, on possibly the first thing they had ever agreed on.

What had started out as a fun day was turning into a nightmare. Maybe I could just trade in my girlfriends instead of the dresses….

Okay, okay, I concede. They are kindof dated dresses…but hey, I never was a fashionista – that’s why I was a pilot instead of a flight attendant!!

Susan, wasn’t in the wedding. She, of course, thought everything looked perfect.

“Look.” I said, “The wedding is too close to go looking for new dresses. I think they look great, and it’s my wedding.” Now I was getting upset.

“So do I.” Susan added. The other two girls glared at her.

“But we’re the ones who have to wear these.” Cathy and Lynda said in unison.

“But I’m the one paying for them, and its my wedding, so what does it matter?” I asked, perplexed, hurt and tired.

They finally acquiesced, and we went shopping for shoes next.

My girlfriend Cathy had no children, and at the moment, she didn’t want any. The kids were driving her crazy. She left immediately after choosing a pair of flat shoes that she obviously hated.

A week later, my husband’s sister wasn’t much different when she tried on her dress a few weeks later. “It puckers kind of funny, don’t you think?”

“I think it just needs ironing.” I answered.

“I think it would look better as a short dress, off the shoulder, don’t you?” she asked.

“No, I like them long and on. The wedding is in November, and it will be cold…”

“Oh well, I’ll just have mine cut off after the wedding. Then maybe I can wear it again. Do Cathy and Lynda like theirs?” she asked.

“Cathy thinks hers is too short, and Lynda doesn’t like the color.” I said wearily. “It’s too close to the wedding to change dresses.” I added forcefully.

Mary didn’t say another word. There must have been something about my tone of voice….

My Aunt Jane

I chose a beautiful gown of pearls and lace with a long train. The skirt was full and the sleeves were long. I found a hat exactly like the one I saw in the magazine. My girlfriend Susan agreed that the outfit was perfect.

“What? You’re not getting married in a white dress, are you?” my mother asked, horrified.

“Well, I didn’t really think it mattered…” I protested feebly.

“But you’ve been married before! You can’t wear white!”

“Mom, this is different. Being married before was like a bad dream…a nightmare, in fact. We had a simple backyard wedding. I want this one to be formal and it is his first marriage.”

She gave me the look. I changed the color to ivory.

My college roommate had trouble with her mom over her dress, too.
My parents all dressed up! No, Mom didn’t wear black to my wedding. :)

Finally, the night before the big day arrived. To say that the house was crowded isn’t even close. It was jammed, with kids running everywhere. Thirty of us trying to get ready in a tiny house with one bathroom.

The rehearsal dinner was worse than the dress fiasco.

My girlfriend’s little boy wouldn’t let anyone sit at “his” table. He screamed and kicked until his father threatened him with his life if he didn’t straighten up.

The rest of the kids weren’t much better. All five of them ended up asleep in a pile under the table of presents before dinner even arrived.

My niece-to-be was upset that our rehearsal dinner fell on the night of her birthday. She had wanted a party of her own.

The next day, my bridesmaids had a heated discussion over whether to wear the dresses off the shoulder or on. They drank two bottles of champagne without me and decided definitely off. At that point I didn’t care if they went naked.

This shot just cracks me up. Kind of explains everything.

My maid-of-honor’s husband threatened to throw my other girlfriend’s little boy out of the car on the way to the wedding and he meant it.

St. Peters looking up!

But the setting was beautiful, and I still love the old St. Peters Landmark Church in The Dalles.

St. Peters Landmark
Our pictures still looked happier than some of the older ones…

Our families were taking so many pictures that their strobes threw off the photographer’s light meter. All our y wedding pictures were very dark and grainy.

I  hunted everywhere and finally found the perfect blown-glass cake topper with double hearts and swans. I even managed to get it to Oregon from Minnesota, undamaged.

The baker and the balloon lady were both running late. They bumped into each other and a small war ensued. My hearts and swans died in battle….

wedding flowers

I worried about the flowers. The florist, Kevin’s cousin Phyllis, had warned me that the simple Calla Lilies I had chosen did not always arrive in the best of shape and that she might have to substitute at the last moment.

But the flowers were beautiful. Phyllis brought extra corsages, and we needed them all. I had miscounted. Phyllis quickly decorated the top of the cake with flowers, too.

As usual, what you worry about isn’t what goes wrong.

At lest I wasn’t pregnant at my wedding…neither was my mom. But she is pregnant with my brother, Jim, in this picture.

Halfway up the aisle during the ceremony, my little girl stopped to talk to her friend. “My mom says we can use my dress to play Cinderella after the wedding!” She chortled, as the music played. And played. And played.

The impatient ring bearer stomped his feet impatiently. “Girls!” He loudly proclaimed.

Later, during the ceremony, my daughter sat down on my childless girlfriend’s feet, partly under her dress. Everyone in the church could see my Darcie’s underwear as she sucked her thumb while smoothing the silk of her dress on her cheek.

The food at the reception ran out within the first hour.

My daughter and her little friends stole most of the laced chocolate decorations off the cake before anyone caught them.

Kids don’t care what music is being played!

The deejays refused to play the songs I had chosen until after the older people left the reception. They were afraid no one in our small town would hire them if they played music by groups like The Beach Boys and The Eagles! I know I won’t hire them again.

The good news:

No one fell down the steep steps of the church.

No one knew of any reason not to join us as man and wife.

My parents

My husband didn’t mash the cake into my face or spill champagne when we linked arms for the toast.

Colt was the ring bearer for my brother and his wife. He was so afraid he would drop the ring in their pool!

There were no fistfights or other catastrophes.

Colt didn’t drop the ring or fall in.

Our sports car was a mess, but no permanent damage was done – just tin cans and soap.

Darcie helped decorate my brother’s car at his wedding.

The honeymoon was marvelous…except for our sunset dinner cruise off the coast of Maui – airline meals on plastic plates weren’t what we had in mind.

And best of all, my girlfriends are still my friends!  (until they read this story…)

Perhaps the best thing about my “dream wedding” is that we both know that we will never have to go through the ordeal again….

The end…or the beginning?!

Remember I told you a film crew came out to our farm/ranch a year ago? If you want to see the portion of the PBS special, with David Biello of Scientific American, that was filmed at our farm, here it is!

It starts on Cape Cod (for context), and the second half is in Oregon at our house. Just for fun!

The whole two-hour special is worth seeing. I bought the video at BeyondtheLightSwitch.com. It takes 30 seconds or so to load. It will open in a separate window so you can read/do something else!

http://dl.dropbox.com/u/3743025/BTLS%20Windv3.mov

http://www.beyondthelightswitch.com/

The windtowers closest to our house are Vestas towers. Vestas is a Danish corporation.

http://www.vestas.com/en/wind-power-plants/towards-20-years-in-offshore.aspx

Van Patten 1885 Century Farm

What a funny week. We got the Century Farm sign. http://www.oregonfb.org/programs/century_farm_ranch.shtml

It says Van Patten 1885 on the bottom.

Then a Dutch film crew came the next day to do a piece on the wind towers. Kevin asked me who the talent was, a term we heard when the Detroit Public Television came out to film “Beyond the Light Switch”. Genevieve kept calling David Biello “the talent”. http://www.beyondthelightswitch.com/

I was taking pictures of my nephew's daughter the day the news crew showed up from Detroit PBS.

So, when we got out of the pickup, I asked the guys which one of them was the talent. Erik laughed and said he guessed he was, but they don’t use that term in the Netherlands. https://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=135639477940

Dennis (or Tyce?) thought Patten may have been Putten, after a town in the Netherlands. He said “Van” means of or from. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Van_(Dutch)

A beautiful day, but sad because we learned that our cousin Mark had a massive stroke two days before. He passed away two days after the reunion. What a nice man, and only 49 years old. We will miss him so much.

But two days later, at the Macnab family reunion at Highland Hills Ranch http://www.highlandhillsranch.com/, I learned that Kevin’s ancestors on his great grandparent’s other side were actually from Petten, on the west coast of Holland.

Highland Hills Ranch

I started Googling all the places I went on my Amsterdam layovers: Hoorn, Edam, Gouda, Zaanstad,etc. The last time I was there it was summer and hot. A pilot friend of mine was going to be there too, and he wanted to go to the beach. So, I agreed, but my flight was late due to weather and I ended up meeting him for dinner instead. It turns out he goes to a nude beach! (Zandvoort) I told him there is no way anyone needs to see me nude at almost fifty years old! Thank goodness my flight was delayed.

So, this morning I was writing about Netherlands on my other blog, Getting There is Half the Fun. I was trying to find the nude beach to remember how to spell it for this blog, and it is just north of Petten. Then I got a popup of gay porn. That was thrilling. Not. And one for Viagra. And it just kept coming. So “Mac Defend” popped up, saying I had 73 viruses. Yikes. Like an idiot I used it to clean up my computer. It was a Trojan, and boy did it get into my system. Then I tried to My phone rang and it was Credit Card Services reporting unusual activity on my Visa. After canceling my card, they suggested I call Apple.

I got a great guy named Lawrence who helped me straighten out my computer. We searched my computer and threw away all kinds of downloads, but I was still getting popups. He said I should be using Safari as my search engine, not Firefox. Firefox is fine for PCs, but Safari is better at warning you when you shouldn’t be somewhere using a Mac. Good to know. I had to trash my Firefox to get rid of the trojans, change all my information, etc. What a hassle.

I asked him about Macs versus PCs, because I thought Macs didn’t get viruses. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trojan_horse_(computing)

He said PCs can get infected just by opening an email or something innocuous. But you actually have to download something on a Mac to get a trojan, and that only approved download sites should be used, like Apple and Amazon.

Then he sent me an email saying to stay away from trojans and nude beaches!! Yeah, good idea. And stay away from MacDefend and MacShield – at least the versions I was trying to download from unapproved sites were malware.

Remembering my French, Mal means BAD!!!!!!

Go to my other blog for more on Amsterdam and adventures!

Remember your Greek history??? From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
This article is about the mythological Trojan Horse. For other uses, see Trojan horse (disambiguation).

Detail from The Procession of the Trojan Horse in Troy byDomenico Tiepolo (1773), inspired by Virgil’s Aeneid

The Trojan Horse is a tale from the Trojan War, as told in Virgil‘s Latin epic poem The Aeneid, also by DionysiusApollodorus and Quintus of Smyrna. The events in this story from the Bronze Age took place after Homer‘s Iliad, and before his Odyssey. It was the stratagem that allowed the Greeks finally to enter the city of Troy and end the conflict.

In one version, after a fruitless 10-year siege, the Greeks constructed a huge wooden horse, and hid a select force of 30 men inside. The Greeks pretended to sail away, and the Trojans pulled the horse into their city as a victory trophy. That night the Greek force crept out of the horse and opened the gates for the rest of the Greek army, which had sailed back under cover of night. The Greek army entered and destroyed the city of Troy, decisively ending the war.

In the Greek tradition, the horse is called Δούρειος Ἵππος, Doúreios Híppos, the “Wooden Horse”, in the Homeric Ionic dialectMetaphorically a “Trojan Horse” has come to mean any trick or stratagem that causes a target to invite a foe into a securely protected bastion or space. It is also associated with“malware” computer programmes presented as useful or harmless to induce the user to install and run them.

Bridal Veil Falls

Bridal Veil Falls...I stopped on the way home and impaled my WRX on a rock...Shit.

Oh well, it was worth it... :(

Oh well, it was worth it... :(

I’m home for a month, before my children’s writing class at the Oregon Coast. It’s good to be home. Summers here are beautiful, and the days are long and slo0ww…especially when we start harvest in July…or August? :) It’s a late year, but the crop looks good.

I put all  my new pictures up of Italy, unpacked and did laundry. Time to relax!

Tuscany countryside canvas with Kevin's farm equipment underneath!
Tuscany countryside canvas with Kevin’s farm equipment underneath!
Pisa and Montepulciano
Pisa and Montepulciano in my dining room!
Italy, my house is plastered with canvases! :)

Italy, my house is plastered with canvases! :) I'm running out of wall space...time to buy a beach place!! :)

My high school alma mater is PK Yonge, the University of Florida’s developmental research school. I like to joke that we were guinea pigs, but its true. What other high schools offered Aviation as a science elective way back in 1971?

PK Yonge auditorium

The new PK Yonge auditorium

PK Yonge cafeteria

PK Yonge cafeteria...lots of good memories here!!

PK Yonge library

PK Yonge library...oh, what a memory here!! :)

Everyone has been asking how my speech went, and what I said. Luckily my sister-in-law, Carla, recorded it for me.

So, I was wrong - our class did have a graduation ceremony - Go figure! I sure didn't remember it until I found this in Mom's storeroom this week.

After the introduction, my whole life story and then some, what more could I say?????

While I was tempted to just say, “What she said!” I didn’t.

This was my ad-lib speech. I know I could do it better with practice… :)

THE SPEECH

“One of my girlfriends says that with that many things someone likes to do, they are either a renaissance woman or ADD. I hope I’m a renaissance woman…. :)

When I graduated from PK Yonge nearly 40 years ago, I never expected to be flying a jumbo jet around the world. In fact, I didn’t know what I wanted to be, and once again, there were too many choices to choose just one. What I did learn from PK was that there were no limitations and that I could do anything I wanted. I think that’s the most important thing to take away from PK because I know you all can do anything.

If I can fly a jumbo jet that weighs over 833,000 pounds – 400 tons – longer and wider than this room with these little weenie arms, you can do anything you want: anything. Anything! (laughter)

Of course, the 747 is all hydraulic, so you don’t have to be strong – you just have to use your brain.

When I was at PK Yonge, math was the only class that I felt I really had to work at, and for those of you who have had my brother, Mr. Bice, for three years of math (Standing ovation, cheering, clapping!!!), I was going to say I feel your pain, but you all must like him, so go figure. (Laughter) He’s been my brother for 54 years. (More laughter) Yes, I know, that’s a long time. (Laughter, again!)

He’s told me quite a few stories about all of you, but I really hate to tell them in front of your parents, so maybe later we can get together and I’ll tell you what he told me.

My favorite class at PK of course was aviation, and I would like to thank Dr. Gadsden over and over again for being a great physics teacher, and then a great aviation teacher. When I learned how to fly, I didn’t plan on doing it for a living. I just did it so I could fly my friends over to the beach (chuckles). I know, it’s not a great goal or a huge goal, but that’s what kept me going – putting one foot in front of the other, and always having something I couldn’t wait to do next – something I was excited about.

I soloed at 16 at the Gainesville Airport, and one of the notations in my logbook said, “Student must stop counting swimming pools and start concentrating on learning how to fly.” (Laughter) Every time I went up I was looking for a friend’s house or something exciting in the air, and I still love to fly and it has been a wonderful career. I hope that our graduating students realize that this world has so many places to go, so many things to see, its incredible.

When I was flying the whale, which is what we call the jumbo jet, 4 engines, 55,000 horsepower each engine, we would usually go to Asia, but I also flew to Europe. The whole nose of the airplane would lift up when I was flying cargo. We would load on race cars, pigs, giraffes, antelope, zebra (laughter)…we took a whole zoo to Asia once.

We had thousands of chicks peeping underneath our cockpit all the way over, and you couldn’t hear the engines over the chicks – that’s a lot of chicks!

We flew saltwater fish, and probably every Nintendo game or Playstation or computer that you all would use. We couldn’t wait to see what cargo we had!

(I said incredible again, need a new adjective…5 total!!!! Yikes…at least I didn’t say “umm”).

You could look from the front of the airplane, if you pretend I’m at the front now, all the way to the back of the room where the tail would be – it was almost as long as a football field. An (incredibly) fun plane to fly, into foggy airports like San Francisco, icy runways in Alaska – for me the most exciting thing is a challenge, and I loved it when the weather was down, or I had to make a crosswind maximum gross weight.

I think finding your passion and being able to do it in this world is incredible (yes, 4 times). I know you’ve all heard how hard it is to make it in this world, how everything is changing so fast…but I would love to start over – the incredible  thing about this world is that there is always something new in it…flying down to Singapore over the South China Sea, flying over the Saipan where the ocean goes down 7 miles, when you are flying 7 miles up – almost makes me an astronaut, right? 14 miles above the bottom of the ocean?! (Laughter)

I was flying on 911 when the skies were closing and I was one of the last planes in the sky. To me, one of the best parts of aviation is that it is always changing. You have to stay on your toes.

My life has been so fun and exciting…if I could tell you just a few things to keep your life fun and exciting, I would say:

Stay positive.

Hang on to your integrity.

Surround yourself with positive people.

I know you all have supportive people in your life, because your parents had to sign you up to get into PK Yonge. But I don’t just mean your family…

Surround yourself with positive friends and people who are going places and have dreams and ambitions. I find I can only have two people in my life at a time who are negative because they such the life right out of you. (nods, agreement)

Keep positive people around you, keep putting one foot in front of the other. You don’t have to know where you are going to get there…unless you are in a jet like me – then it helps to know where you are going, say to Singapore. (laughter)

Anyway, I think the world is yours and I’m excited for you, and I wish I could come back in 40 years to see what you do with your life.

Congratulations and good luck.”

1000 words, 7.5 minutes

Plans for the new wing at PK Yonge

Plans for the new wing at PK Yonge...wow!

PK Yonge modularsModular layout

PK Yonge modulars...I wish Sherman County would do this! It's amazing how many resources there are when K - 12 are on one campus.

Inside the modular classroom

Inside the modular classroom...much better than the originals!

Breaking ground for the new elementary wing

Breaking ground for the new elementary wing

Now this is my kind of curriculum!!

Now this is my kind of curriculum!! Rome, yes!!

I swear I did not Photoshop this!!

Home Sweet Home

Yes I love to travel. But oh, it is good to be home!

I miss my husband, my dogs, my cats, my neighbors and my house.

Favorite Husband, Kevin

My neighbor Trena, and Potter

My Italy wall at my home, sweet home in Oregon!

Sax kitty – Fast Freddy – all grown up 9 years later!! It’s a coyote record!!
Steady Eddy
Vegas, what happens at home while you are in Vegas! Pepper is probably sulking somewhere – weird dog, but we love her.

Oh, and my barn.

The barn fell down while I was gone. Sob. Now what will I use for a backdrop?

Neighbors Clint and Ally in front of my (sob) old barn last month…
I doubt this part will stand much longer, either.

Fire rainbow cirrus clouds above... still beautiful.

I have never seen this cloud formation before.

Now its a lean-to

Built over a hundred years ago, Kevin’s Grandma Bee made everyone promise to never tear it down. I wish she had made her kids promise to keep it up!

By the time we moved here, it was so far gone that there was no fixing it.
I always used it in my photos – graduation photos, Christmas card pictures, sunset and sunrise pictures…no wonder Grandma Bee didn’t want it torn down. It was a part of history.

It’s the place Kevin’s mom was shot as a child playing Cowboys and Indians. Where Uncle Pete had to maul hay.

There was a rope going from the house to the barn in the winter for blizzards, foggy days and dust storms – so you could find your way back and forth after feeding the horses.

Countless memories…my children’s fort…storage for the old two-hole outhouse seat… Colt and Alex’s four wheel track behind it… lots of old trucks were parked around it…the cat’s favorite hangout.

Gone. With the wind.

The old barn in its glory days. Aunt Francis painted this. Phyllis Porter sent it to me.

Dear Sue,

I promised to tell you how to stop cleaning your house all the time….  Maybe you were kidding, but if you weren’t, here’s how I stopped.  See you soon.

No, this is not my house. I have windows and a roof.

As you know, I traveled eleven days a month for work.  Coming home to a house that looked like it was hit by a wrecking ball – a house I left spick and span – was worse than a nightmare – it was real.  Tired and jet lagged, just walking in the door was enough to throw me over the edge. I turned into a whining, nagging, pitiful version of my former self.

I may not live in a castle like this, but I love my little house on the prairie.

Confused and hurt, I tried to sort out my feelings.  I loved my family, but they were such slobs. Didn’t they love me enough to clean up a little?

My husband claimed that the house was clean – maybe not as clean as I liked it, but clean enough.  He asked me why it mattered so much, why I had to come in and ruin an otherwise joyous homecoming?

Home Sweet home...beach inspired!

I didn’t know why, but it did matter. I couldn’t even sit down and read a book without seeing dust and jumping up to get rid of it.  It was the same for me with dirty windows, unmade beds, plants that needed watering, etc.

Relaxing just wasn’t possible until it was all done.

My garage and house – new addition on the right has tight windows and doors :)

What did I hate so much about housecleaning? 

That I was always doing it and every day I had to do it all over.

Did I ever enjoy it? 

Yes, sometimes I found it relaxing and grounding.  I like my stuff.  I like my house.

Batam Indonesia.

No, I don’t live in a perfect Sunset Magazine or Better Homes and Gardens house, but it is comfortable.  I travel to some very poor countries. I am so lucky to have a roof over my head, especially a nice roof. I’m not out pounding our clothes on rocks. I have a washer and dryer. My house even has windows.

Our ranch is way out in the country.  We don’t have close neighbors and we rarely have guests, so I wasn’t cleaning because I was worried about what people thought.  Also, around here, the neighbors hate you if your house is perfect -  it’s the opposite of keeping up with the Jones!

I live in the old family homestead, where Kevin’s mom was born.  Kevin’s uncles remember shoveling out the living room after a dust storm.  The family would move out for two or three days because they couldn’t breathe. Kevin’s Aunt Edna lived here before me and she dusted all the time, obsessed about cleaning this place.

Castles, white nights...all fairy tales.

We don’t even own our house, but I had new doors, windows, siding, a roof and air conditioning installed.  My sanity was worth every penny spent. The place is still dusty.  Better, but dusty.  It is a small house, about 1800 square feet, and I have little knickknacks that collect dust, too. There is no way I will ever have a dust-proof house.

Besides, I don’t want to be obsessed about anything.  Too many of the old captains at my airline were such little old ladies to fly with.  They even cared how the copilots stapled the flight plan together.

I obviously had no control over my family, so I knew something needed to change in me. I decided not to clean unless I felt like it. I didn’t go on strike and decide not to clean. I changed my mindset.

A girlfriend of mine, Jayne, needed extra money and I jokingly told her she could help me clean my house.  She was serious.  Together we could get in clean in four hours, saving me four.  Then she started coming in when I was on trips, or just before I got home.  She knew how I liked my house.

Kevin didn’t see why we needed someone to clean. He always said I was overly neat – guy language for “I don’t want to do it and I don’t want to waste money paying someone either.”

The truth is, I would pay double for house cleaning…I would even skip lattés if I needed too.

I began to mellow out some.  At night I started pushing the baby toys into a corner. Then, when Jayne had sick kids or couldn’t come, I started thinking, Oh well, she’ll be here next week, and I would sit down and read a book instead of cleaning.

I read a book called “Never Good Enough” by Monica Ramirez.  I took the quiz in it first and found I was an ‘inwardly focused perfectionist.’  At least I wasn’t overly critical of others…just hard on myself.  My mom and uncle are perfectionists, and my grandmother was, too.

The book said perfectionists are rarely happy.  They rarely experience joy.  Something inside me snapped.  Joy is something I really want and need in my life.  I had been reading books about being grateful and happy and easier on yourself.  You can’t be happy when you are always beating yourself up.

Who wants their tombstone to read like this??????

Now I try to spend less than thirty minutes a day cleaning.  My house is a source of joy and peace,not another headache. Thank goodness I have a small house – I can be done cleaning in even less time.

Here’s a typical morning at my house.  The kids are off to school. The kitchen is already clean – my husband empties the dishwasher in the morning, the kids put their breakfast dishes in it.  And the kids did the dinner dishes including pans and counters. The trash is full, so I grab the desk wastebasket and zip from room to room, emptying the cans into it instead of taking each individual one to the kitchen.  Kevin takes the trash outside.

I get dressed and make my bed. Yes, the kids made theirs.  The clothes hamper is full, so I start a load of wash.  I spritz the counter in the bathroom after I do my hair and makeup – the cleaner and rag are right under the bathroom sink, along with the toilet cleaner, Comet and Woolite.

The living room has a load of laundry on a chair.  I fold it, take it to the right rooms, and put mine away.  The kids will fold the other load when they come home. A little straightening – the stray blanket that needs folding and a misplaced pillow. Clean house…clean enough.  In less than I thought, too – twenty minutes.

Don’t get the idea that this is effortless.  It took years to train the kids.  They grated cheese, peeled potatoes and browned hamburger for dinner.  They vacuumed (reluctantly) and washed windows. They always complained. Most of my friends claim it is more trouble to “train” their kids than it is worth. In the short run, yes. In the long-term, no. I wouldn’t be doing my kids any favors if I didn’t teach them help around the house, to take some responsibility for their environment.  I’m hoping that the organizational skills they learn at home will help them deal with a very complex world. When they know what is expected of them, there isn’t as much grumbling or fighting.                                                  Oh, the kids feed the animals, too.

Just cats and dogs. (Darcie: "Kebin don't hab no cows.") or pigs, or horses!

My husband helps out more all the time.  I take what I can get – the trash, dishwasher and a load of wash, and I’m thankful for it. I have had to lower my standards over the years – things aren’t always done “my way.”

The decreased stress and increase in energy (mine) made the compromise well worth it.

There are times I do like to clean – if I put some good music on and go at my own pace, puttering. Its meditation; a hobby of sorts.

That voice in my head is still there sometimes…that gremlin that is always finding fault with something.  I’m better about ignoring it or shutting it up – it goes away eventually.  And my house is still cleaner than most people’s, even at its worst.

None of this is news.  Nothing earth-shaking.  Just common sense.  I just don’t want to be a martyr, holding my house to perfectionist standards that no one really cares about.

I had to laugh one day when I heard my son grumble to his sister, folding a load of laundry after school, “Why didn’t Mom do these?  What has she been doing all day?  Her stinkin’ art, that’s what.

He was right. What do I do all day? Whatever I want to!


My guest room!

 
 

Inspired by my trip to Italy....

So, what do you think, Sue?  Want to come visit?  I promise I won’t clean up for you…well, not much anyway.

Love, Kathy

P.S. Getting rid of stuff – not hoarding, helps too :)

My living and dining rooms

I can’t believe it. I might be a hoarder.

Seriously, what am I doing with all this stuff? Really, I can barely reach the treadmill to exercise. Who uses this many dishes and clothes and shoes?

Christmas dishes, wedding china, Nana’s china, platters and napkin rings, rocks to write place names on…I had dreams of company coming for formal dinners, but who does that out here? I’m lucky if anyone even comes to dinner. Besides, if I did use them the dishes would be in the kitchen, not the closet.

I can’t even find things when I do need them – now that’s a sign of too much.

As a very visual person, pictures and things trigger memories for me. I love to look at things and remember experiences, but isn’t a picture worth a thousand things?

Walking on the treadmill, watching a hoarding show, I look around at the mess: dishes and a mountain of miscellaneous crap.

How much of it do I actually use? (Not much)

How much would I part with? (Some)

I decide that if it doesn’t evoke a good memory for me, its gone.

Sure, I could get rid of everything, but some of it is special to me – from my grandparents. Or my parents. Or my friends. A lot of it I bought or brought home from around the world on my trips.

So, if I am honest about what I really don’t need, what would go?

The hoarding show says it’s a mental illness to collect so much that it interferes with your happiness and well-being. That hanging onto things just because your grandmother, for example, gave it to you, is not okay. Just because it was her’s does not mean it is her. You can remember someone without keeping everything that was their’s.

Hmm. I start looking objectively at the pile. No matter what it cost, if I don’t use it or like it, its gone. By the end of the hoarding show, and simultaneously, my treadmill walk, I am ready to part with quite a few “treasures.”

Some items have no memories at all for me – they’re just junk. Where did that ugly platter come from? That awful Christmas bowl? If I don’t like it, why am I keeping it?

Clothes that are out of style will not come back. I know that from years of hoarding.

Keeping too much doesn’t leave room for the new. Advice from another show on clutter!

Besides, keeping things “just in case” is a form of fear that can block the abundance in my life. Now that sounds deep, doesn’t it? :)

Okay, so I am messing with you a little. I am having new carpet laid, and had to clear the rooms out. All this is from my three bedrooms and the hall. Now everything is in my living room.

Its easier to sort and toss than I thought it would be. Now I have less to put away. Some of it will be donated, some sold. But it is gone – out the door and into the mudroom, car or garage. Whew.

What if there were a fire? What would I really miss? Probably not much, the little gremlin inside me says. You could have gotten rid of more.

Okay, okay, so I wasn’t exactly brutal, but I am happy. I even have extra shelves and space. And I feel good because I donated three large bags of clothes and household junk. I put the rest of my things away, knowing I could have slashed even more, but I’m proud of myself just the same. I did good!

I love new carpet. I just painted the empty closets, and my house feels clean and refreshed. My closets still have more in them than I need. But I feel so much lighter – like I could fly :)

 

Oh, yeah, I can fly!!!

Colt's room

The Macnabs were chased out of Scotland by the Campbells. Yes, they were probably the Campbell’s Soup Campbells.  My husband’s mother father was a Macnab, and the family originally immigrated to Canada. Two of the brothers and two of their cousins moved south to homestead the Oregon Territory. This part of the Columbia Gorge looks amazingly like northern Scotland and I imagine they felt a kinship with these hills.

They married into the Van Patten family, another resourceful “clan.” Getting a crop into the field was the primary goal. The Oregon Homestead Act required you to eat and sleep on your land and have glass in your windows. Showing great resourcefulness, or perhaps just being Dutch, they built only one house on the four corners where their land joined in Sherman County. Each  had a bed and small table in their corner of the house. You had to live on your land, sleeping and eating there.  Five years later the land would officially be theirs.

I haven’t been able to “fact check” this, but they were told they need glass in their windows, too. Pane glass broke easily and was hard to come by. Ingeniously, they drank the pints of whiskey and placed the empty bottles in the windows, fulfilling the letter of the law.

Today my windows are real pane glass, nary a whiskey bottle in sight. My dining room is all that is left of their hastily built homestead house and I don’t know how much of it is original. Still, I feel like a pioneer. Twelve children, including my husband’s mother, were born and raised here. The house is small, maybe eighteen hundred square feet. Five hundred feet were added in 1930.

The uncles and aunts still make regular visits to their old home. They enter, often without knocking, to the home they still consider their own. I enjoy following them around as they reminisce, trying to see my home through their eyes…

“I swear, this house sure seemed bigger when we lived here…” they muse. I’m sure it did…the uncles are all over six feet tall now and have to duck through some of the doorways.

“Remember shoveling out this place after a dust storm? Sometimes we had to move out…couldn’t breathe. Come back days later, after the wind died down.”

I remember when I first moved in. I had to vacuum the windowsills. Farming practices have improved the situation. I added double pane windows, insulation and vinyl siding. No longer do I fight the raging windstorms that suffocated and blinded and sometimes killed those unfortunate enough to be caught in their fury. I still dust more frequently than those living in civilization, but at least I do it with a cloth and a can of Pledge.

“Remember when this bedroom was a sleeping porch? Many a morning I woke up covered with a blanket of snow.” Uncle Tom shivers, remembering.

“You could see your breath. Remember the icicles?” Uncle Pat adds.

Eight boys, farm hands all, slept outside in the freezing Oregon winters. They were hardy stock. All of them survived World War II, too. Uncle Tom was down to eighty pounds when he came home from the swamps of New Guinea, suffering from malaria. Their cousin Bill was killed instantly when his B-17 collided with another near Hamburg, Germany in 1944.

“The old barn…still there. Remember when we were playing cowboys and Indians out there? I aimed my gun at you and said  ‘Bang.’ You dropped down and I thought you were dead! We ran for the house, sure we would be in big trouble for killing you. Then you wandered in, bawling, half an hour later, bleeding and bawling your head off. That bullet went in through your jaw and out through your cheek!”

Rose nods, remembering well. Her teeth and jaw still  give her problems. Her only satisfaction was the whipping her brother and cousin received.

“How about the time you shot the hole in the kitchen floor? We covered it up pretty well for awhile…threw a rug over it and the kitchen table over that. Then Mom went down to the cellar and saw the mess…glass and peaches blown to bits everywhere. We caught holy heck for that, too.”

I can still see the repaired hole in my cellar ceiling. Winter nights when we put together jigsaw puzzles or play cards I can almost hear their rowdy clan…popping corn over the open fire and playing Ping-Pong on a piece of plywood Grandma Bee placed on the dining table.

The double-hole outhouse seat remains in the barn, testimony of days so long ago when, windstorm or blizzard, going outside was a necessity. The uncles delighted in hiding in the dark, leaping out of the shadows and tossing clawing, wild kittens on their shrieking, terrified sisters. To this day the girls are afraid of cats and guns.

The siblings remember windblown drifts of snow so high farming horses were used to break through and carry them to the one room schoolhouse. Today we occasionally have enough to sled on. Rose and Helen remember dresses made from potato sacks and being thankful for them. They hauled water by hand up the canyon in buckets. The same water was used first for cooking; then for washing dishes, clothes and bathing; finally, for watering the rose bushes. I can only marvel at their tenacity as I push buttons for my dishwasher and run clean water for my bath.

As solitary as life is here, it is hard to imagine the hoards of people who came by this remote place on their way west. The Oregon Trail ran right through our property. So deep were the wagon ruts that we can still see them in the spring as the new shoots of wheat push skyward. My nearest neighbor is a mile away. I rise each morning to the crowing of pheasants and fall asleep to the howling of coyotes. You’ve never seen so many diamonds in one sky as we can, lying in our Jacuzzi stargazing. You’ve never seen a lawn like ours, either: thousands of acres of lush, green winter wheat.

Paradise.

We truly are in the middle of nowhere. The toolies.The boondocks. Country hicks to some…providers of a nation’s food to others. Our life is simple, our wants, few. Sunrises are fantastic…sunsets over Mount Hood, amazing. However, my idea of homesteading is far removed from days of old.

Most of the old homesteads have been burned or fell down. The few that remain, like sentinels in the fields, are a testimony to how many people used to live here, before tractors got bigger and more land worked in a day. My kids and I loved to four-wheel down the canyon behind our house to the old Happold Place. (See the fictional story I wrote about this house, “I Am The Ghost.”)

Springtime brings a profusion of wild onion, lupin and balsam root. Deer and antelope truly play nearby, along with elk and cougar and the occasional bear.  Living here, in the middle of nowhere, is a paradise I never expected to find.

 

 

 

 


What do you do you do all day in the middle of nowhere???     Write! Create!

I swear I did not Photoshop this!!

September 25, 2010: At least the moon is taking the ‘hits’ for us. Look at the dent on the right side!

I live on a wheat ranch in eastern Oregon. The nearest grocery store is forty miles away in The Dalles.

I grew up in Dover, Delaware; Osceola, Indiana; and Gainesville, Florida.                      Go Gators!

Living so far away from cities and neighborhoods and people was a huge transition for me, but now I love it.

Springtime: soft white winter wheat

Mid June the wheat is almost all golden.




The nights here are so dark. And so full of stars! When I sit in my Jacuzzi at night, the view is incredible. You can hear the coyotes howling and the owls hooting. Or you can hear perfect silence.

Walking down the dirt road by my house is always peaceful. The stalks rustle and move in the wind, and when the wheat starts to turn and ripen it smells like you are in a bakery. Deer, antelope and jack rabbits are frequent companions, as well as pheasants and occasional elk.

The sunrises and sunsets are awesome.


We grow soft, white winter wheat. Most of it gets shipped to the Pacific Rim for Asian dumplings. Our wheat isn’t stretchy – that is, it doesn’t have enough “tensile strength” for noodles. I think some of it is used for cake flour, too, but Asia is our largest market. Lately we have been planting wheat with more protein content, so that its use is more versatile.

My father-in-law used to travel extensively for the U.S. Wheat League. He has friends all over the world that I would call while overseas. I remember the lunch his friend from Korea took me out for – wonderful food I would never have tried without him.

We plant in the fall, around mid September if there is enough moisture.

We have three large tractors to plant 4500 acres a year, 9000 total.

We harvest in July and August, usually starting right after our four wheeling trip to the beach for the 4th of July.

I love harvest, even with the long days and heat.

My cousin Karen getting a ride.

Friends come out to ride combines and the hustle and bustle of the time is exciting.

The combine dumps into the bankout wagon, and the bankout wagon dumps into the trucks.

Putting the trucks away after harvest.

My only real job during harvest is to cook dinner and make goodies, so I find the days long and enjoyable. Its fun to go ride the combines, or sit in the truck on the way down to the elevator at the river.

dsc_0009nef.jpg

Rufus, Oregon grain elevator. It is called an elevator because the wheat is offloaded from trucks, then taken up to the top and dumped.

Biggs Junction, Oregon grain elevator

Antelope at sunrise

I love to watch antelope, but farmers hate them. They are the ‘goats’ of the plains, and will eat anything, especially weeds. This sounds like a good problem, until they carry the seeds to clean fields and defecate.

The only “bad” thing about living here is the wind. Sometimes it blows for days. I can’t imagine being in a sod house, or a pioneer cabin where you could hear it day and night. Perhaps that’s why people suffered from “prairie madness”! At least inside my house it’s fairly quiet – even when the wind is howling at 50 mph.

The bad has become good. We now have wind towers, and they will fund our retirement for years to come.

Flying jets uses quite a bit of fuel; now I can “give back” something in the form of alternative energy.

looking-skyward.JPG wind-towers.jpg
I’ve found that you have to be careful what you wish for. For years I wanted to “farm the wind.” Now we are. So much for solitude. The holes were dug in May 2007. My front yard used to be wheat: then it became a freeway. Huge semi trucks thundered by at fifty miles an hour. The worst part of the project, for me, was the huge, ugly transmission lines that were built to take the power out. I didn’t think about that part.

Of course, three years later it was all done. Huge white blades slice the sky around my house and now I love to watch them turn. I love how they look – huge propellers that remind me of flying. Its like waking up on a quiet airport. I heard you could hear them, and sometimes when I step outside I can hear the rhythmic swoosh. But it’s not loud, at least not louder than the wind is! It amazes me how many people hate how they look or sound. Compared to coal plants, wind towers are so clean. I know the wind doesn’t blow all the time, but I am amazed by how much it does. I never noticed. What seemed like a breeze is actually enough to power the turbines. They turn at 7 mph and produce power at 9 mph. Naysayers claim that they only produce power 33% of the time, but hey, that’s 33% more than nothing!

If you want to see more about our wind project, you can go to www.roadtobiglow.com Kevin and Colt are even on the video – if you click on the silo it goes to “Old MacDonald had a Farm” except its old McCullough’s…. Don’t even try to power up the Biglow site unless you have fast high-speed internet. It takes an incredible amount of juice, or it “streams” like crazy!!!

old-wind-mill.jpg

The old...

wind-towers-dark.jpg

The new!

Paradise.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.