I guess since this blog is supposed to be about "life on a cat ranch," it's about time I mentioned something about the cats and the ranch again. As soon as I decided that was the case, the cats obliged by reminding me that life with them is never boring.
So here's a typical summer morning on my cat ranch:
The alarm goes off at six in the morning even though the sun isn't even peeking over the horizon yet. This is the way I see the alarm: it's my warning that it's almost time to get up, so I'd better start seeking consciousness ASAP or maybe nine minutes after I hit the snooze button. I think I can sleep for those nine minutes, but I have to pee. (Have you ever noticed that people in romance novels never have to pee in the morning? They never have morning breath, either. My life is not a romance novel.) So, instead of suffering, I will semi-sleepwalk to the bathroom and then crawl back into bed for the rest of that snooze.
When Moon, my border collie, is sleeping in the room, she has other ideas. She stands over me on the bed and licks my cheek. So I will either argue uselessly with her, "Come on, Moon, just let me have nine minutes," or I will get up and let her out. Some mornings, I'm awake enough to pee AND let the dog out before I go back to bed.
By the time I crawl back into bed, I have earned another snooze. After all, I didn't get my nine minutes. And the sun still isn't up.
But the Booman is.
"Merowff," he whispers into my ear, purring and kneading my pillow as he positions himself to lick my nose. Believe it or not, I can ignore the Booman, even knowing what is coming. Nose kisses escalate to total facial exfoliation. If I pull the sheets over my head, he pulls them back with those handy claws. "Merowff," he repeats.
Penny the Actual Queen of the Universe will be curled on her royal bed of pillows above my head on the bed (sometimes in the winter, she still sleeps curled in the crook of my arm like she did as a kitten) sleeping through all this. She won't stir until she's sure I'm up to stay. She never tries to wake me up. She waits for her entourage to accomplish that task.
If I ignore the Booman long enough, he will sniff my shoulder in preparation to bite. (This is a Boo bite: he opens his mouth, puts his teeth against my skin and lightly scrapes--it's more an annoyance than a bite. After ten years of being squirted for it, he has finally managed to train me to move before he bites so I don't have to get upset with him.) By now, the kittens are racing around the room and over the bed. There is really no reason to expect those nine minutes to happen, so I will get up and feed the cats, thanking God for all of my blessings as I go.
The other morning, I found that I had forgotten to take the cats' breakfast out of the freezer the night before, so I plugged the sink, tossed the baggy of raw food in and started the water. Boo was still pestering me. He likes cereal for breakfast, yummy carbs, the kitty equivalent of Cap'n Crunch, no health food for him like the kittens and show kitties get. He wants to go out in the morning as I feed the porch cats their scoop of Hill Country Fare kibble. Penny will follow, usually not because she wants to eat that crap, but because she just wants a little free time outside.
Boo was extra insistent to get outside right now on this morning, threatening to bite my ankles as I stood waiting for the sink to fill. So, I left the water running and went to the laundry room/ kitty lock door. Penny and Boo beat me there, stretching up to the doorknob and meowing in kitty equivalence of "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, hurry Mom!"
I got a scoop of kibble and carried it outside to the breakfast table (on the morning shade side of the house). I used to just poke myself out the door and pour the food into the bowl on the porch floor, but since Baba Wawa has come to live with us, I have had to put the bowl in the middle of the table because the lamb loves cat food. So I toddled around the house in my jammies (the nearest house/road/neighbor is a quarter mile away). I could toddle around naked if I wanted to. (Don't worry--I never want to; jammies are my favorite clothes, and I like to stay in them as long as possible.)
Baba came out from under the porch and bleated at me to let me know she was hungry, too. So I filled my blue feeding bucket with two scoops of regular alfalfa pellets, one scoop of sweet feed and a sprinkling of cat kibble and carried it to her by the southern porch steps. Ten horses saw me and came running. They had been in the pasture around my house for two days and had discovered the lamb's food the night before. So I carried Baba's black rubber feed bowl up on the porch and called her to come up the ramp on the other side of the house.
The horses were watching me from the east side of the house. I do not want them to learn about the porch ramp, so I went back to the laundry room to get the half full bag of alfalfa pellets and carried it down to them, spreading it out in a line in the grass long enough to prevent too much bickering.
Finally, I made it back into the house from my quick dash outside. I was greeted by a spreading pool and the joyful music of trickling water.
Oops.
Running water in a kitchen sink is no big deal: there are two basins; the overflow goes down the other sink. Unless the other sink is also plugged and full of dishes. The plan had been to dart outside quickly. Instead, I dilly-dallied long enough to turn my house into a water park.
Did I say "trickling?" Two rivers flowed in opposite directions from the sink to the ends of the counters where waterfalls cascaded over the edges. A trio of Bengal kittens sat the base of one waterfall, eyes wide in wonder, batting the falling water, their tails swishing through the water on the floor like windshield wipers in a flood. This river flowed into Lake Livingroom where the tide had swept cat toys to the shore. Chou Chou sat on the fireplace hearth, a sweet limestone cliff rising over the lake to give her an ideal vantage point from which to hook sodden catnip toys with one claw so that she could toss them to the other two kittens who waded in shallow edges of the lake, playing kitty water polo. When the waterfalls ceased flowing, the kittens begain their morning 70 foot sprints with the added bonus of Slip 'N' Slide.
The water park was not in business for long, but its debut was memorable. I have seen the kittens at the sink several times since then, plotting a way to recreate it.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
About that Inhaling....
I've been thinking about running for the Senate. No. Really. Stop laughing. It's not a new thought. While I was in high school, I started campaigning for President. Yes, of the United States of America. People used to ask me if I wanted to be the first woman President, and I would answer, "Nope, the youngest." At the time, I was hoping we would have had a female President before 1996, which was when I had to be elected to beat JFK in the youngest department.
As you can see, I missed that deadline.
These days, I don't want to be President. Damned good thing, eh? Have to keep my dreams somewhat within the stratosphere even if they never will be totally down to earth.
But the problem with running for political office is that I'm too damned honest. Yes, I inhaled. A lot. Many things that were inhalable. But not since 1989. So that's two strikes right there. Honesty and a past.
The thing about a past is that some people can never forgive. That past will always be there, and they will always judge you for what happened in the 1980's. I read recently about an uproar over a Christian person in some political office who actually employed an ex-prostitute. Oh, the Religious had their panties in a twit over that. But to me, it seemed that he was doing the most Christian thing. Jesus didn't hang out with the Religious, after all. So, this political person was not condemned for his past, but his employee's past was apparently communicable.
So don't stand too close to me.
Back in the Nineties, (why weren't our Nineties "Gay"? Oh, sorry. Birdwalking) when I heard about all the problems in public education (and that's another tangent for another day), I said to myself, "Self, if you're not part of the solution..."
No, really. It happened just like that. I became a teacher to help right a wrong. Whose wrong? It didn't matter. I believe so very strongly in a free public education, and I believed that our children deserved the best. SO I became the best teacher I could and an advocate for my students who lived in poverty.
Ah. Now you get it, eh? We have a big problem with our government. Not only that, but it's a real problem and not just a fictitious problem created by politicians. In fact, it's a real problem created by politicians. Politicians are the problem. And, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Now, I could vote and consider my job done, but I'd still only see politicians getting elected.
A politician is a person who makes political office their career. It's a great career move if you can make it. The salary is way up there and the benefits are awesome. One turn in in our congress, and you're set for life.
The problem with having only politicians in political office is that everything becomes a career move. We saw that clearly in the last Texas legislative session. A government made up of politicians is selfish. A government made up of politicians caters to the big bucks and the most publicity so they can stay in office and make big bucks, too.
I have come up with a very simple solution to the problem: Political office should be a public service, not a high paying career. A Senator shouldn't make more than a school teacher, fire fighter or police officer. THEIR salaries and retirements ought to be on the line. Think about the beauty of this. If political offices were filled with public servants instead of politicians, then they would attract people who care about the public they serve. They would be dedicated to solving our problems and making sure our country is running smoothly.
In order for this to happen, someone has to take the first step. So I thought I'd run for Senate and introduce the bill. What would I do with all that extra salary? Donate it back to people who need it.
As you can see, I missed that deadline.
These days, I don't want to be President. Damned good thing, eh? Have to keep my dreams somewhat within the stratosphere even if they never will be totally down to earth.
But the problem with running for political office is that I'm too damned honest. Yes, I inhaled. A lot. Many things that were inhalable. But not since 1989. So that's two strikes right there. Honesty and a past.
The thing about a past is that some people can never forgive. That past will always be there, and they will always judge you for what happened in the 1980's. I read recently about an uproar over a Christian person in some political office who actually employed an ex-prostitute. Oh, the Religious had their panties in a twit over that. But to me, it seemed that he was doing the most Christian thing. Jesus didn't hang out with the Religious, after all. So, this political person was not condemned for his past, but his employee's past was apparently communicable.
So don't stand too close to me.
Back in the Nineties, (why weren't our Nineties "Gay"? Oh, sorry. Birdwalking) when I heard about all the problems in public education (and that's another tangent for another day), I said to myself, "Self, if you're not part of the solution..."
No, really. It happened just like that. I became a teacher to help right a wrong. Whose wrong? It didn't matter. I believe so very strongly in a free public education, and I believed that our children deserved the best. SO I became the best teacher I could and an advocate for my students who lived in poverty.
Ah. Now you get it, eh? We have a big problem with our government. Not only that, but it's a real problem and not just a fictitious problem created by politicians. In fact, it's a real problem created by politicians. Politicians are the problem. And, if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Now, I could vote and consider my job done, but I'd still only see politicians getting elected.
A politician is a person who makes political office their career. It's a great career move if you can make it. The salary is way up there and the benefits are awesome. One turn in in our congress, and you're set for life.
The problem with having only politicians in political office is that everything becomes a career move. We saw that clearly in the last Texas legislative session. A government made up of politicians is selfish. A government made up of politicians caters to the big bucks and the most publicity so they can stay in office and make big bucks, too.
I have come up with a very simple solution to the problem: Political office should be a public service, not a high paying career. A Senator shouldn't make more than a school teacher, fire fighter or police officer. THEIR salaries and retirements ought to be on the line. Think about the beauty of this. If political offices were filled with public servants instead of politicians, then they would attract people who care about the public they serve. They would be dedicated to solving our problems and making sure our country is running smoothly.
In order for this to happen, someone has to take the first step. So I thought I'd run for Senate and introduce the bill. What would I do with all that extra salary? Donate it back to people who need it.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
I'm Baaaack
Sometime ago, I announced my intention to blog once a week. Crap happened, but I'm back. And this time I have an iPad.
My friends and family will know that last year, I asked for an iPad for my birthday, and he gave me a divorce instead. Or, as Mom says, "Instead, he gave you something really wonderful." This year, with my student loan, I got my own iPad. Even better: I was patient and pre-ordered an iPad2.
(For concerned tax payers out there, this was not a frivolous use of my student loan. I desperately needed a new laptop for school. I wanted an iPad. Therefore, my iPad is my new laptop for school. Totally within the guidelines of responsible student loan spending.)
I love my iPad. I have used it for schoolwork. I'm outside with it in the late mornings (after vineyard work) when I write and the evenings when I don't, so it's filled with video of my constant companions: Moon, Baba Wawa, Penny and the Booman. I've used it to edit and post some of those videos on YouTube. I am using it to write one of my novels, which happens to be set on a ranch, so the setting where I set myself and my iPad in the morning is conducive to the creative process.
We're all out here right now in the shade of a 150 year-old oak tree:
One of my favorite aps is 2Do. It's a handy to-do list that can be used to set up repeating actions on certain days. It comes with pretty colored category tabs, fun buttons and prioritizing. I have made the priorities my own though, and so they are not a matter of priority at all. High priority is what I use for one-time things that need doing. Medium is for weekly chores that automatically pop up on their day of the week. Low is for monthly chores. None is for the daily stuff like dishes and litterboxes. (If I could figure out how, I'd change the titles from "None" to "Daily," etc., but that's not a high enough priority for me to take the time to figure it out.) Starred items are tricky little boogers. They never go away. You can touch the box on the screen to indicate it's done, and the line gets drawn, but then it stays there. I like things to disappear from the Today tab. So I only used the star for writing. Weekdays are for the novels (I'm writing two at the moment--it was five, but I've narrowed it down to two--one on the iPad, and one on my office computer in the afternoons.) And as of yesterday, the weekends are for blogging. As soon as I push "Publish Post," I get to check it off my 2Do list.
And even though this one has been mostly about nothing, I do have a lot on my mind. It has been quite a year for me, and I have a bunch of topics coming soon, like "Being Catty" and "Stop Telling Me to Build My Barn" and "Oops! I Inhaled. A Lot." And of course, there are Penny stories and Booman tales, along with the escapades of my border collie, Moon, and my lamb, Baba Wawa.
I had some folks tell me recently that they missed my stories on the Bengals-L Yahoo list. I'm still kind of there, but mostly you'll find me on FaceBook or right here. Uncensored.
My friends and family will know that last year, I asked for an iPad for my birthday, and he gave me a divorce instead. Or, as Mom says, "Instead, he gave you something really wonderful." This year, with my student loan, I got my own iPad. Even better: I was patient and pre-ordered an iPad2.
(For concerned tax payers out there, this was not a frivolous use of my student loan. I desperately needed a new laptop for school. I wanted an iPad. Therefore, my iPad is my new laptop for school. Totally within the guidelines of responsible student loan spending.)
I love my iPad. I have used it for schoolwork. I'm outside with it in the late mornings (after vineyard work) when I write and the evenings when I don't, so it's filled with video of my constant companions: Moon, Baba Wawa, Penny and the Booman. I've used it to edit and post some of those videos on YouTube. I am using it to write one of my novels, which happens to be set on a ranch, so the setting where I set myself and my iPad in the morning is conducive to the creative process.
We're all out here right now in the shade of a 150 year-old oak tree:
 |
| My Outdoor Office |
One of my favorite aps is 2Do. It's a handy to-do list that can be used to set up repeating actions on certain days. It comes with pretty colored category tabs, fun buttons and prioritizing. I have made the priorities my own though, and so they are not a matter of priority at all. High priority is what I use for one-time things that need doing. Medium is for weekly chores that automatically pop up on their day of the week. Low is for monthly chores. None is for the daily stuff like dishes and litterboxes. (If I could figure out how, I'd change the titles from "None" to "Daily," etc., but that's not a high enough priority for me to take the time to figure it out.) Starred items are tricky little boogers. They never go away. You can touch the box on the screen to indicate it's done, and the line gets drawn, but then it stays there. I like things to disappear from the Today tab. So I only used the star for writing. Weekdays are for the novels (I'm writing two at the moment--it was five, but I've narrowed it down to two--one on the iPad, and one on my office computer in the afternoons.) And as of yesterday, the weekends are for blogging. As soon as I push "Publish Post," I get to check it off my 2Do list.
And even though this one has been mostly about nothing, I do have a lot on my mind. It has been quite a year for me, and I have a bunch of topics coming soon, like "Being Catty" and "Stop Telling Me to Build My Barn" and "Oops! I Inhaled. A Lot." And of course, there are Penny stories and Booman tales, along with the escapades of my border collie, Moon, and my lamb, Baba Wawa.
I had some folks tell me recently that they missed my stories on the Bengals-L Yahoo list. I'm still kind of there, but mostly you'll find me on FaceBook or right here. Uncensored.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
A Life of Service
A Life of Service
Robert Eugene Fickle of Blanco, Texas passed away peacefully on January 27 2001 . He is survived by his wife, Erika Hermean Jurgens Fickle, his children Erich Brent Fickle and wife Luella Martin Fickle, Bobbi Jean Fickle and Susan Victoria Fickle Jones and husband Charles Michael Jones, his grandchildren Justin Rodney Jones and wife Veronica Salazar Jones, Travis Dale Jones, Victoria Anne Jones and Robert Michael Jones, and great-grandchildren Grant Jones and Scout Justin Jones, sons of Justin and Veronica.
Robert Eugene Fickle was born in Burwell, Nebraska on May 25, 1930. His family moved to California during the Dust Bowl Migration. He was raised by his mother, Flossie (Florence Brown Wheatley) and grandmother, Eva Knobel Long. He graduated from Compton High School and proudly served his country in the Navy during the Korean War. Following the war, he attended Compton College where he was president of Alpha Sigma Chi fraternity. There he met the bright and beautiful Erika Hermean Jurgens, with whom he fell in love. They were married on June 9, 1956. Bob and Erika had 3 children, Erich Brent Fickle, BobbiJean Fickle and Susan Victoria Fickle Jones, who are forever grateful to have been raised by the best dad ever. He taught his children the values of always learning new things, working hard, having a generous heart and living and laughing well. He loved hosting amazing parties for friends and family, travel, the outdoors, photography, theater, agriculture and genealogy.
Bob was a police officer in Compton, CA and Huntington Beach, CA during the unrest of the Sixties. During the 1970s he was instrumental in developing a modern, computerized communications system with Motorola Corporation for the HBPD. After he retired from the police department in 1980, he worked for Southern California Edison company and helped develop security systems for the San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant.
Bob and Erika retired in 1994, moving to Blanco to be near their grandchildren, Justin, Travis, Victoria and Robert Jones, and fulfilling a lifelong dream to own a ranch. Totally missing the point of retirement, they worked hard to clear mesquite for pastures and plant a vineyard on their River Ridge Ranch east of Blanco. They also traveled throughout Texas, enjoying all the wonders of their new home.
Continuing his lifelong tradition of service, Bob was active with both the VFW and American Legion in Blanco, TX , even after a stroke in 2002. He and Erika supported the Blanco County Youth Livestock Show for many years and were Top Individual Buyers in 2004 and 2005.
Robert Eugene Fickle lived a good life and the ripples of his influence will continue to shape the future. We will miss you, Daddy, until we meet again in heaven.
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