America's love affair

My life is not tied to big weekend schedules, kids events at home help to further distance my from travel plans when the rest of the world is going places. I sometimes forget what America does to commemorate special occasions. I was reminded in a big way yesterday when I took what I thought was a routine drive to the big city 80 miles to the south. My son and I were making a routine trip to visit the orthodontist.

For those of you who have never been to my little abode, I must insert a note that the road is a two lane US Route, similar to the famous Route 66 age and quality, but not in location. By two lane road, I mean that there is one lane serving the northbound traffic and another to serve the southbound traffic. Some of you big city folks seem to think that two lanes implies only one passing lane in each direction. For us, a passing lane makes three and is a rare luxury.

Caltrans, in their infinite wisdom has undertaken to widen our road this summer. Locals would define widening as adding additional passing lanes, or perhaps another traffic lane in each direction. Caltrans defines widening as increasing the shoulders from 4 feet to 10 feet. This may mean a lot to the bean counters in Sacramento. It means we have more space to evacuate on the side of the road before we hit the dirt when someone traveling the opposite direction at 70+ miles per hour fails to complete a passing maneuver in time. To those of us in the country, it means we are still stuck behind the RV with the boat, the RV with the quads, the RV with the jet skis, the Hummer with the boat, the guy with the bike and the kayak on top, and all the other guys and gals who think it is their right as Americans to consume as many hydrocarbons as possible on their days off. We still are choking on exhaust back here, waiting to get to the passing lane to attempt the passing maneuver around the 60+ foot long monsters driven by amateurs, blowing and weaving in the wind.

I was caught at various times on the trip both north and south in huge rafts of vehicles, 15 to 20 at a time, and Caltrans did not even have their flaggers out, because flaggers enjoy spending the long weekend doing something other than disrupting traffic. They were probably taking their toys to the lake too.

I stopped for gas on my way home. I am fond of Nevada gasoline, because they sell it for less than California gasoline. There was a crowd at the station at Bordertown. Several of the other parties seemed to know each other. My favorite rig was the RV with the over large boat in tow which occupied two pumps. The station manager was not complaining, as they were filling the boat too. I did not check the total, but I would guess it far exceeded what I put in my Corolla.

Gas may be expensive, but who wants to stay home now that we have the boat and the RV and the jet skis and the quad. We can go out and waste money on fuel and risk life and limb in pursuit of happiness guaranteed us by those who fought and died that I thought were being remembered this weekend. Of course, the main topic of conversation for the weekend is the high price of fuel.

Many years after I completed high school, I have forgotten how much fun we were for our parents. Last week, my daughter had a cooking project for Spanish class. Feeling that cooking is a boring enterprise, she sought to make it more fun by inviting a friend over to cook with her. My daughter chose to make salsa. Unfortunately, her friend chose to bake cookies. These two activities are both fun, but they do not go well together in my kitchen.

We had chopped vegetables all over the kitchen occupying the same space as flour, sugar, butter and the mixer. I think when it was all over they each had separate finished products. Cooking was only part of the experience. They each needed photographic evidence that they had completed the project in order to make a poster complete with captions in Spanish explaining about buying and cutting and mixing tomatoes and everything else.

Extra credit was given for bringing a sample to class sufficient for everyone to taste. She tripled the recipe to feed the class of 30. We all ate some salsa at home, and there was plenty for the class too. Her friend did not like how the cookies came out, so I kept them and made the great sacrifice of eating them myself. I told her the Mexican Wedding Cakes had all the same ingredients as the Russian Tea Cakes I make from Mrs. Field’s Cookie Book which I call sugar butter bombs. There is some flour in there too, but mostly sugar and butter and a dab of vanilla. She rolled them in powdered sugar which gave them an interestingly flaky texture on the outside. I roll mine in colored granulated sugar which makes them look like Easter Eggs.













Now my son wants to try a recipe for guacamole he found in the practice test for STAR testing that went on earlier this month. For the moment, he is content to mark a basketball key under the hoop in the front yard. As this has taken so long to post (hard to find a stamp around here, then they raise the rates on me) he has achieved his goal and we took a bowl of guacamole to his piano recital Monday night.








































You may have been having a holiday on Monday, but his piano teacher works around 5 different school music program schedules, various sports, activities and awards ceremonies. Then there is the little snag of finding a place big enough to hold all the families that has a tuned piano ready to play which is available on the same night as the kids. The local high school is off our list since they started charging for the use of the music room where her husband teaches.




































We enjoyed a multitude of piano and flute students showing us their pest. My daughter is not one of her students this year, but my son entertained the folks with the Cantina Band number from Star Wars (the original) as a duet with his teacher and Trumpet Voluntary from his lesson book as a solo. A good time was had by all, and the guacamole was delicious.

Piracy and other crimes against society

This post belongs to last week, but I was prevented by the thought police from sharing it with you. Now that they have decided that I am mostly harmless, I am free to say what I think about them and anything else again.

Certain members of my family who are not sailors seem to think pirates are cool. To me they are funny looking guys who take things which are not their own. At least one of them wears really strange make up and braids his beard.

Tonight, I am staying home with the only member of the family who loves me no matter what I do. There she is curled up at the other end of the couch, uncritical of my music and how much time I spend on the computer. The rest of the family is off to town to wait outside the local film palace waiting to get a good seat. They showed up at least an hour and a half early for the 8:00 PM premiere. I hope they like it. I finally condescended to preview the first two episodes, and I do not feel I am missing much. They seem full of adolescent action, funny looking guys who cannot be killed trying to kill the heroes and very little plot.

I would be posting this tonight, but Blogger has seen fit to call my little missives to the world SPAM, what an ugly word, so it sits in my computer until they are ready to share again.

The sky was beautiful, but the moon kept moving

Those of you who lack dogs are missing out on the best parts of life. I am not talking about the love and affection which your dog may lavish upon your unworthy self. I am thinking about the times when I would normally be curled up inside under the covers sleeping or reading and my loving pet takes me out to see what is truly important.

Early mornings and late evenings are some of the loveliest times of the day in the great outdoors, and you may miss all of them without a dog. I once did. Sunday night was more rewarding than usual. For those of you who live in major metropolitan areas, I have some news. There are still stars in the sky. There are lots of stars. Of course my camera did not pick up the stars, but the bright object is the crescent moon. It refused to hold still. I swear I did not move the camera. Right below it was Venus, dancing away as well. Just to prove my point, when I visited Earth & Sky whoever added the 13th comment felt the same way I do about the dog. My brother took a better picture.

Of course, Shadow flatters me with her adoring attention as well. She is most fond of me when I am eating, although she will try to crawl between me and my mouse on the couch when I am working. Any time I make a move near a door or my shoes, she is ready to go to her favorite place. . . out.

Friday we celebrated California history, Northeastern California style. We started with a rousing presentation from each school in the county with their take on what happened in the past in our great state. Of course some of the renditions were more rousing than others, simply because a few kids were afraid of the microphones. The best performances were by classes that had practiced and could sing without the words on the CD. Of course those of us over the age of 10 can remember learning to sing without a CD at all. My boy’s class sang about “Our little secret,” Mr. Marshall found GOLD (shhhhhhh!)

That was followed by square dancing on the part of the fourth graders. As an experienced square dancer, I could say that they had lots of fun, and they have a better taste of the past. The actual dancing part of it was pretty interesting, especially the boys steering the girls around to promenade. Some day they will learn to swap partners too.

These festivities were followed by necessary reinforcement in the name of a noon repast. Thus replenished, we were ready for the afternoon marathon. We had eight stations and two hours. Every fifteen minutes a horn wailed and we moved.

First we were fascinated by a story of a pioneer woman who traveled to California by boat, crossing the Isthmus of Panama on her way. She met a young man on board ship whom she married, but he left her for the gold fields, never to be seen again. She supported herself and her children, and eventually remarried, settling in Lassen County. We followed that with a game of “Spear the Hoop” just like the Indians (sorry Native Americans, they called it Indian Games) once played with hula hoops and PVC pipe. Then came the highlight of the day for the young. We bartered. The kids traded with other kids, with adults running the station. We bartered. We bartered with anyone else we could find for the rest of the afternoon. It is amazing just what a couple of gold painted rocks or a marble will buy.

Tearing ourselves away, we barely made it to the relay station in time to start a race before the horn sounded again. Tug of war was an interesting game. With two ropes, they swapped teams a few times before the most important round, boys against girls. The boys won the first time, but when two mothers and one father joined the appropriate teams, in the words of the father involved, it was embarrassing. Fortunately for him, the horn saved his pride and we hurried off to put out a fire at the bucket brigade. This being the safe form of the activity, the kids raced with little buckets to see who could fill a big bucket first.

As soon as the second round started, we were off to pan for GOLD, at the sound of the horn of course. People are still coming to California looking for gold. Some still find it, but as was true 150 years ago, the ones who make the most money are the ones selling eggs for $3 each, not the ones standing in the middle of streams hoping to make something from nothing. Our presenter explained that in these murky boxes we would find gravel brought fresh from the American River, site of the discovery of gold in 1848. Our class visited that happy place two weeks ago. I guess they brought the gravel home on the bus. I would never let on to the State Park about that. Lucky miners might find color in their pans with diligent work.

Not only, did they keep their feet dry, but they found lots of gold. It was very exciting. Now we have more to barter with. The kids are still a bit unsure why it took over a year from the discovery of GOLD to the departure of the gold seekers. Of course if someone sent you a text message about the discovery of gold, you would just fire up the Expedition and be off. Why did they wait so long? Was it because there was no telegraph, telephone, computer to send the message? Was it because the transcontinental railroad was still 15 years in the future? Maybe there were no gas stations back then, so they had to wait for the grass to grow high enough to feed the oxen. Kids today just do not understand how different communication and transportation were 10 years ago, never mind 160 years ago.

We rounded off our day with a few songs that pioneers or miners might have been singing on the way to our golden state. I question the authenticity of “Wells Fargo Wagon” from The Music Man, but then I was not there back then, and I have not seen the DVD of the pioneers singing to be sure. They did have camcorders and DVDs back then, didn’t they? All the kids were treated to ice cream and a bus ride back to school at the end of the day. As I said before, the bartering continued apace as the kids wandered very slowly off to the bus. It is hard to walk fast and contemplate how many army men that “fossil” is worth. Of course bartering is something they can do any time with each other, and when I examine the contents of a certain backpack, I am sure it goes on all the time. We learned our history, we sang our history and we lived it today. A good time was had by all.

My Girl

After a couple of posts, you may wonder where my other child has gone. Why is she missing from my musing. Perhaps the reason is that she is missing from home. No, she did not run away. She is over at the coast with most of the other sophomores from her school in the name of biological study. It sounds like a great excuse for a camping trip if you are not afraid of the dark, bothered by bugs or do not hate dirt. Too bad none of these apply to her. I am certain there will be more to say next this weekend when she returns. If she is lucky it will not rain while she is there. Usually it does, according to high school legends. Next week may reveal full details of the adventure, or perhaps just a recounting of how much fun it is to teach a child to drive. If you see the car pictured above, beware, especially if you are on a bicycle. She is bothered by them. They make her nervous, which is odd, since she likes to ride on herself. She is getting better at navigating corners and stopping gently.

Snake in the house

We live out in the country, so sometimes we experience treats that city dwellers are missing. Yesterday when we arrived for my son’s piano lesson, he stopped just short of the front door, inside the enclosed entry. He pointed out that there was a snake on the bricks. At first, I thought it was a plastic snake. It certainly looked like one, but then it moved. Neither of us have a problem with snakes, especially when they stay out in nature where they are native. This particular snake most likely arrived in the mouth of the cat that was watching it. I went in and asked his teacher if she knew that she had a new pet snake. She did not. I asked my son to remove the snake, as he enjoys that kind of thing. After coaching him to pick it up closer to the head, he relocated it to a grassy area far from the house. His teacher said she never knows what will show up on her doorstep from one day to the next. Alas, I did not grab a shot with the camera, so you will just have to imagine the little critter. His piano lesson proceeded without further incident, after he washed his hands.

My boy

My darling son has crooked teeth. It runs in the family. I do not know of a single relative who escaped the joys of orthodonture. On his last visit to the dentist, the hygienist strongly suggested it was time to take the boy to see the braces man. So I did. We went to see the one who straightened my darling daughter's teeth. He works 80 miles from here in Nevada, but I do not like the one who works 10 miles from here, and there are few other options in our small town. Visits to the orthodontist give us an excuse to visit the big city.

This particular practice believes in knowing what they are working with, so they did a panorama x-ray at the free consultation visit. This time it was digital, so I could see it on the computer as it progressed. Fun stuff. The odd mark on the page between the roots of the two front teeth in his upper jaw was too. The doctor had not seen too many like it. He said it had to go before the front teeth were pushed farther out of place in the already crowded mouth. He gave us a referral to a Maxillofacial doctor in the same city. I immediately called that doctor and found out that they do not take our insurance. Those are expensive words. I called our dentist and acquired the names of several dentists in another city in California. The first one I called not only takes our insurance, but is a premier provider. These are inexpensive words. I made an appointment for a consultation.

That appointment was last Friday at 9:30. We were in the car by 7:00. Did I mention that the doctor was 125 miles from home. Our small town does not have many choices, especially in medicine. We packed our bicycles for a ride along the river after the appointment. After looking into the mouth and taking another picture from another angle, the good doctor pronounced the procedure both simple and routine. We went to check out and set up a time and day for the surgery. I suggested in passing that not travelling another 250 miles and doing it today was my favorite option. After consulting with the doctor, we were told to come back in a half hour. My darling son asked if we would still have time for a ride. I told him it would be fine if he felt like it. Being the good mother that I am, I took the boy to In 'n' Out Burger for reinforcement. I even stopped by Target and bought a toothbrush and toothpaste to make the job easier on the doctor.

We returned to the office for the procedure. I will spare you the details except to say that one stitch was applied at the end. This becomes important later. It was a hot day, and one of us was not feeling like a bike ride anymore. We did go to our starting point to see the sights, which are well worth visiting. The mouth doctor said to take it easy. He did not say what the orthopedic doctor said while a broken arm was healing, which was, " No hanging." This behavior must have been acceptable then.

We had a nice walk across the bridge and back, and picked up a shake for the drive home to fill the requisite "all the ice cream you can eat" that follows oral surgery. About a half hour out, he said in a panicked voice that something was wrong with his stitch. I stopped at a rest area, and he had a nice visit with the mirror to see that everything was fine. A couple of hours later, eight miles from home, he said his stitch had come out. No way, you say, well you just do not know my talented boy.

He seems to be no worse for the wear, and yes, he had worked on the stitch with his tongue long enough for it come untied, and then he pulled it out with his fingers. I refused to drive back for another one. The doctor suggested having a local dentist take a gander at it, to be certain it was holding together, but at 5:00 on a Friday, none of the dentists in town had been in the office for at least 24 hours. Small town life is fun.

If my brothers can do this . . .

so can I. It is so easy I can do it lying down with my eyes shut. Oh wait, that is the dog. I ought to keep in touch better this way, if only I can remember what I have been up to. A preposition is such a fine word to end a sentance with.