Yesterday we had "The greening of the church" which is when "many hands truly do make light work" (another Amish saying that is very true! Right after the 10:00 service, everyone dives into the "decoration boxes" and gets started. The aisles get the tall pillar candles, the wreaths go up on the walls and each staihned glass window gets a candle-lit window sconce-the tree (from our property) always looks so majestic in church - in about 20 minutes or so, the church is deand tree is decorated for the Christmas eve services, and looks magnificent. This is my favorite time of year. There is something for everyone! Just like at home, all of a sudden things look very Christmassy-I don't usually get "in the mood" until then. Seeing the church all decorated and realizing there are only 7 days until christmas is enough to get even the laziest shopper started! And luckily-I did alot of shlpping yesterday with Jerry-we went with a list and just chipped away at it! Not once did I get sidetracked. I'm quite proud of myself! Last weekend friends came and picked out a tree:

and on this past Saturday, the gentlemen from the church came up to pick out the tree for the sanctuary: The interesting thing is, Jerry and I had picked out a candidate for the church, looking at it from all angles and thinking this was a great tree. When the four gentlemen arrived, they went out into the pasture before us When we arrived slightly after them, and with no communicaation between us about location, we pulled up to the same location and found that where they were standing (in a choice of 8 acres or so) and found that they had picked the same tree.  Coincidence?  I don't think so. I think that there was a little devine intervention going on-I love when that happens!

Right about now is when I usually start to panic-but this year, I have it all under control-we were actually able to take in a Christmas Cantata that my friend Missy was performing in. All in all a lovely weekend!  We were in Colonie Mall on Saturday, and low and behold there was Santa, looking exhausted and daunted by the line of children wrapping around the ChristmasLand venue. I guess he gets overwhelmed too! We have decided because we're going to be on L.I. for Christmas, we will do our christmas here before we leave-this means we don't have to organize yet another bag when we get on the road. A Brilliant plan if you ask me.  We're really going along swimmngly with Christmas, and I think we might pull this off with little drama.  I'm praying for that! Of course I too have been known to be a little delusional about this time of year, and maybe that's the case, but for right now I'm going to wallow in this feeling of accomplishment. By thursday I will probably be in a panic.  We'll see!

Moonlight Walks

Because neither Jerry or I is compelled to stop tasting the Christmas goodies, we have begun a walking regine after dinner. We were going real strong in the summertime, putting on running shoes and giving ourselves a couple of brisk laps around the cemetery, which is next to our house. We could work up a good sweat, and negate the calories of getting into the car and driving to Granny's Ice Cream stand for a nightcap. The lines were long but the girls behind the counter are quick. After a time waiting on the line and chatting with all the other patrons we would step up to the window and place our order. Because we live in an area where dairy is readily available, ice cream happens to be world-class delicious, expensive and abundant. If you order a Baby size, it is the equivalent to a medium on Long Island. And they just grow bigger from there. Granny's has soft-serve and they have to tip the cones on their side to get them out of the ice cream stand. It's pretty wild. When someone orders a "Large" everyone starts to laught and comment, because clearly this customer is new, and has no idea what he's in for. So now we are walking because with the onset of autumn and winter, we lapsed a little bit in our walking schedulee. Here it is December and we have been eating Stewart's delicious ice cream (half gallons)without regard to the need for exercise or restraint. There are certain things that you basically never run out of. Eggs, milk, peanut butter. Ice cream has now joined the list of items that we will ride into town to replenish. If we have foolishly allowed a half gallon to get to the point where someone is getting shorted, it's a trip to Stewarts. We live approximately six miles from Stewarts, in Meco. Now, six miles on a straight road is nothing, but on North Bush Road where we live, it's quite a trip. At least a half hour round trip. We've done it. Which brings me back to my original explanation of why we're taking evening walks. But the benefit of this leisurely stroll through the black and stillness of the cemetery is that we are able to chat about the days events, our opinions of certain television shows or books, or just holding on and navigating the dirt road. And every once in awhile, you get to observe a moon like this:

It's not a bad trade-off.

The Classifieds

You can tell alot about the economy by reading the Classified section of your local newspaper. I actually read ours from cover to cover most days, either the paper version or the online version. I read it before we purchased our upstate vacation home (it is a home now, it was a glorified tent back then). When we became interested in the area, we both were online alot reading the local paper, finding out people's ideas and gripes through the editorial section (you can weed out the wackos pretty quickly when you see their letters, week after week). Sometimes you can see who is front page news in the community (they also show up frequently). There is alot of information to be had in the newspaper that you won't hear from the Realtor. Mostly though, you can read the Classifieds and see what is happening right around you. I love to see the pleas from St. Jude. I always say a prayer for that person as well, just for extra. It can never hurt. You will read about the obvious things, snowmobiles and cars for sale. But lately, I've been reading of lesser items, that would only be considered for sale if things were not going well for the seller. And the prices are usually a clue. "Christening Gown-$10 or best offer" This particular ad broke my heart. Is ten dollars all that that gown represents to them?; and are things that bad that they would let it go for that? Where is that child? Don't they want that gown? Or am I a sentimental old fool?How about $5 for a recliner? I've seen that kind of ad, and I know that anyone who would spend the time to place a classified ad for $5 is in dire need of that money. I am not judging these folks-not at all. What I am doing is considering, every day because of the newspaper, how incredibly blessed we are in the choices we have made, and the success we enjoy. I wonder about these people, and wonder especially if they are also being helped by the various churches and agencies that offer assistance. It's almost like a peek into someone's life; one that is not always available. , or honest. And we get to see how decisions are sometimes made out of necessity. And I wonder why the Classified column is now spilling over onto another page, with people selling things that may have mattered to them, for less than their real value, because they need it. That's the part that I wonder about. And that's why I read the Classifieds in the newspaper-front to back. Sometimes I need a little reality check, and a halt to the consumerism that starts to seep into our psyche. It's not about the gifts, it's about the giving to those in need, and making sure that the love of all our holidays are meshedtogether at this time of year. Of not being offended when someone says "Happy Holidays" or "Happy Chanukah", and looking instead to the fact that someone was wishing you anything good. Letting it all be good, and sharing the goodness with anyone you can. You just never know who really needs it. But if you look carefully, you may find it in the Classifieds.

The Black Hole

I'll bet you thought I meant the black hole in space. Oh no,I'm talking about the blogger's black hole. It has just taken me 30 minutes to sign onto Blueline Farm and Apiary. I want to blog, but it is getting increasingly difficult to manuever the world wide web. Is it the equipment? Or is it ME who is not getting it? I have to assume at this point that it is my age which is causing me all kinds of problems. I can look at the "Lilac Bliss" on the Windex bottle and spend a few seconds wondering what "Lilac Buss" is? My eyes are going, my mind is going, and my body has been gone for quite some time. I woke up one morning and I had a tire tube of flesh around my middle that was not there the day before. Truly, it was overnight that my physique went from athletic and lean to overweight and tired. I was a dancer for heaven's sake-I should be aging like Rita Moreno, not Stevie Nicks. I will also admit that it took me a few minutes to remember her name. I could picture her clear as a bell, but her name escaped me. It's funny sometimes, because all I can really do is laugh. Otherwise, I'd be sobbing all the time. When I was in my 40's, I looked around and was very comfortable with the way I was aging. I felt good about myself. It was a trick. Just when I was confident I was going to have a relatively comfortable retirement and my golden years would be like the viagra commercials, that features a woman who looked like maybe she would be worth all the side effects for the man (if you are experiencing kidney failure, immediately contact the nearest health facility). Ya think? I'm taking so many medications and vitamin supplements that I should look like Jane Fonda. Strong and lean. I am now Dancing With the Stars - an exercise video for cardiac strengthening. It's working out quite well. I do the video in the morning for about 45 minutes including the cool-down, and then I spend the rest of the day trying not to eat so much because I'm STARVING from all the exercise. Fortunately , I live very far from town, because with Stewart's ice cream being at the bottom of our road, it could get ugly. It's a dilemma for sure. I'm being very stoic, and I hope to have an "after" picture sometime in the spring. But today, I'm baking Christmas cookies.

I'm not Donna Reed



It does get a little muddy out there!

It's been a longer while than I would like, since I've written in the blog.  I do try to make it relevant if possible, and as you can see, not much has been going on. We've had trips back and forth to Long Island and had the opportunity to see family and friends over the Thanksgiving holiday. It's all good, but it's all busy.  I'm was wondering how I was able to manage the house in Glen Cove, before we  moved. It has occurred to me that we had cleaners come in once every few weeks, and they were essentially like a SWAT Team, the bathroom and kitchen floors were gleaming, and I was able to sit down in a dusted and vacuumed living room, all at the same time!  I am doing these jobs, make no  mistake about it!  I'm exhausted. But by the time I get to the vacuuming after having dusted the day before, it needs to be dusted again! I have made some headway with organizing and cleaning. The spice shelf by the stove was cleaned and is now beautifully organized with shelf papers. Quite a job. But I can't keep up. The dogs seem to be on a mission to bring in mud, even though the driveway has been completed and we are mud free on the people who traverse in and out of the house. They do run out in the field every other day or so, and  of course Bailey has to run past the pond, which is really just more than his dog-will can stand. He's got to get both from paws in the water as far as he can, so he can peruse for bull-frogs. It's a little late in the year for bull-frogs, but he looks anyway.  Daphne just runs through any wet area she can find out there, and Jake, due to his weight, will squish through anything that was just damp.  Somehow, they all get muddy. By April, I've stopped worrying about the floors, but it's still a little early in the winter to have thrown in the towel. I worry about that. I happened to park behind a cleaning service today, while I was running some errands in town. I did jot down their number, on the off chance that I win the lottery and will be hiring staff. Because I also remembered that I was working full-time when we had the cleaning service. GLITCH!  Working full-time is justification for not getting to every corner of the house. Weekends were saved for trips upstate and family. Not cleaning. But now I am home, with no excuse. It's shameful. I am working on a few knit projects for Christmas, and that does cut into my day. The beautiful thing about knitting is that you can also watch HGTV with one eye. I do love those international house hunting programs. But I digress. The  real problem is the floors. If I could just get that off my list, I could probably do a bang up job of keeping the rest of the place clean (omitting Allison's room, which I haven't seen since 2008). I'm sure I could. Now where did I put that number? . . .

aaaaahhhhhh. the great outdoors.

I've often thought that I would have enjoyed being a type of pioneer woman. I love the outdoors and am so inspired by vistas of undeveloped land. I was going to say vistas of wilderness, but really, I'm not exactly sure what a wilderness is. Unknown territory? Or simply uncrowded territory? For me, I love being in an area that is undeveloped and has few people. Just the wind and the birds and the howling snow. However, let me first clarify that howling snow is only fun if you are sitting inside a toasty cabin with a roaring fire. Howling snow when I'm sitting outside without shelter or warmth is not what I meant. So, maybe pioneer woman is not exactly what I was meant to be. Maybe I was meant to be right where I am, with a little bit of civilization right here in my house. Warmth, food, beautiful vistas out the window and minimal population. I may achieve that today, because Jerry is working a double shift, and I was foolish enough to lend my car to Allison to take to school. And so, I will be here at home until 7 PM without anyone but the dogs to keep me company. I did send Allison to the grocery last night (I'm really working this new license thing) because we were in need of a few staples, and she was willing. And so, the cupboard is full and I will be here in my own little wilderness until they all wander in tonight at 7-ish. She has a job after school taking someone's Senior picture, and will be going directly to a fall sports program. As I said, just me and the dogs until 7 PM. I cannot leave. There is much for me to do here at the old homestead, because I did not do much yesterday, a result of my arthritis issues. I just sat here. I had no desire to leave and was so happy when Allison said she would do the shopping for me. But now, when I can't leave, it's a little bit different. If truth be told, I'm starting to get a little freaked, and it's only 11:30. I may take Bailey down the road to visit the cows and the pigs, just because I don't like to walk alone. He is good company, when he's on a leash. The other two couldn't be bothered. So, just me and Bailey and the great outdoors. I could put my garden to bed. People do that here. They pull all the old stems and weeds and clear the garden for spring planting. I prefer to put off til spring what I could have done today. By springtime the garden has mulched most of its weeds and needs to be turned anyway. That's out. Plus, it's kind of cold out there. I guess I'll sit here by the fire. Just me and the dogs, alone.

Happy Birthday Baby

Although my "baby" is 28 today, what adult children never realize until they are parents is that they will be forever "babies" in our minds. As soon as you become a parent, that little face and those little cries are forever in our hearts. It becomes a film (rather lengthy at this point) of faces and emotions and heart-bursts that goes on and on. There are few moments that we don't remember in detail, even if those moments have been long forgotten by our children. We remember every cry, every giggle and every beautiful smile that has existed in our childs lives, and feel that pride more and more with each recurring memory. We still look at pictures drawn in play school and it triggers a love so strong that it hurts. And even while it's hurting we can remember the little chubby fingers that worked so hard to make a present for "Mommy", and there is no feeling like it in the world. I don't know about anyone else, but there is no gift on this earth that could hold as much value to me as those first drawings and fruit loop necklaces that were presented with unconditional love. The same unconditional love that was there the minute they were born. In one moment, I met someone whom I would give my life for, and that feeling has never gone away. Just try and hurt that child, and you will experience "the wrath of Mom". And just as quick, my own children will experience that same wrath if they choose to do something that hurts someone else. It was and is our job to teachh them right from wrong, and if you take that seriously, it is a lifelong job. Because yes, children do learn by what you do, not by what you say. Sometimes that makes things so uncomfortable for us as adults. Because sometimes it would just be nice to put your feet up and say "not my problem". However, the heart that loves also knows that it is a job that lasts forever. And for me, that is OK. Because I signed on 28 years ago, and I've never been sorry. Happy Birthday Sweetheart. Thank you for all your smiles. You have made me a better person, and I am so proud of every thing you do. I'm still hanging your creations on frig. You amaze me every day. Now, would you please call home? I've been trying to reach you for three days. :)

Free at last! Free at last!

I was able to sleep in this morning. The reason for that you ask? Allison has passed her road test!!!!! We have a new attitude in the morning. Jerry waved the bus by, because he slowed at our house on the off chance that Allison would be late and running out the door. Why would he have that idea? Anyway, of course it does include the fact that I am now sharing my car, but that in actuality isn't so bad. It keeps me home during the day, and suddenly our house is cleaner and dinner's are being artfully planned. I think this might work. If I DO need to run into town for some reason, Allie is home at 2:30 and I can take care of any errands then, or even better, I can give her cash and let HER run the errands for me after school. I think I will parlay this new situation into something great! It has also worked wonders on her attitude. I can't really say that she had a bad attitude, but she has been a bit distanced from us for awhile-not really interested in our activities or conversations-just kind of keeping to herself and staying holed up in her room-normal teenage stuff that just kind of grates on your nerves-without actually being something that you can complain about. When asked why she is holed up in her room, the answer is "I'm studying". Can't really be annoyed about that can you? But now, we have a lovely participant who is setting the table, making salads and joining into our conversations about trivial things, with a smile no less-all because keeping Mom happy will result in possibly being able to use the car. All of a sudden I have power. POWER! I have not had power since I was in charge of the TV and computers. I could pull the plug on those pretty quick when she was in middle school. High School punishments are reserved for some really serious stuff-thankfully, we have had few of those. But now, I hold the keys to the kingdom. I do realize that it is only for the next year until she goes to college, but I shall revel in it. I actually asked her to get me a soda yesterday. It felt kind of like "peel me a grape" because I was simply lounging in my chair and had no good reason to not get up and get it myself. Maybe I went a little overboard, but it's still new to us both. I know it will wear off, the driving thing. But for now, It's working for me. Champagne anyone?

RIP Steve Jobs

I know it's been awhile since I last blogged, because Google changed my password and all the security information. Sheesh, can't a girl take a few weeks off? I guess not. The last time I wrote, we were wrapping up a lovely summer. This morning the pellet stove came on quite early, because it was 31 degrees out. 31 DEGREES! Along with Jake, the 13 year old Lab/Great Dane, I am feeling the weather change in my bones. I told Jerry this morning he may be able to get a two-fer euthanasia at the vet, and he didn't contradict me. Some days I think that I may be more trouble than the dog, and not as charming about it. He doesn't contradict that either. It is supposed to be a beautiful weekend though, and I plan on getting as much sun as I possibly can. Is it possible to store up Vitamin D? I have a sinking feeling I'm going to need it.

We're already past peak in terms of leaf peeping, and 31 degrees in early October is a little frightening for me. Warm weather helps the arthritis and joints. Unfortunately, I do love the winter landscape. And the change of seasons. I think it just needs to change a little faster than it has been. As everyone else is commenting today, I am feeling so sorry for the loss of Steve Jobs in our world. He was, as so many have said, the Thomas Edison of our generation. No one could have predicted the "gadgets" that he envisoned, and was able to create. What a world it would be if we didn't have the communication we have now. Incredible vision. RIP. Try and use your gadgets consciously today, and appreciate their value, not just their convenience. I know I do.

It has been quite awhile since I've sat at the desk and written a blog. What a summer it has been! Physically, I'm feeling alot better, or should I say was. The weather has taken a turn her, in usual form. The day after Labor Day it is fall in the truest sense. Damp, cold and miserable. The weather change has affected my arthritic hands, and again I am feeling a little bit undone. I will fight it again. In terms of milestones, it is the first day of school for my youngest child. It is the last time I will wake up with anticipation for a new school year and all the excitement and drama that it brings. I am reminded of her first day at Gribbin School in Glen Cove, and how small and innocent she was. In a sense, she hasn't changed all that much. Except now she doesn't need me to hold her hand and lead the way. Next year will bring a different change, when she is off to college sometime in August. That will be different I'm sure, and it certainly won't involve the school bus drama that goes with living in a rural community. Being a senior and getting on a school bus is not the visual presentation she was looking to achieve, and so the scramble last night didn't stop until she had scored a ride. I'm sure you're thinking "why can't Mom just drive her?", but with three separate activities going on in town today, another 12 mile loop into Johnstown wasn't happening. The gas is just too precious. And also, a sobbing Mother outside of the high school is not the visual presentation I was looking to achieve. It's just so damn hard to let go. Good luck Allison. Enjoy your senior year. I wish for you all that you wish for yourself, and then some.

Greetings from Caroga Lake

It's been almost a full month since I last posted. Apologies to the faithful. We have been so busy this summer, and it's hard to sit down and write a worthy blog. I will try to be worthy today. The garden is spitting out zucchini faster than I can use them, and so today I will bake zucchini bread. It is a wonderful recipe that I have had for many years, and I will be using the new gluton-free baking flour (made from rice and corn). I used this same flour in March when I made Irish Soda-bread from scratch. It was a screaming success, and I hope it will be today. The tomatoes are not yet red, but boy are they bursting. We did some cherry tomatoes this year, which was new, and I am very happy with them. I am also planning on canning tomatoes this year, so the garden should keep me busy. We started out in the spring walking each night after dinner, putting in a few laps over at the cemetery, which probably equaled a full mile all total. Lately, we've been too tired to even attempt that. Evening comes and I am a sack on the chair. Just too tired to move. I do know that exercise brings you more energy, but it's a real tough call when it's almost bedtime and you are comfortable and exhausted in your club chair. Not moving. A friend of Allison's as well as my cousin Carrie were here for a week, and we did the tourist thing for a solid seven days. Carrie and I did. The girls rarely came out of the loft which is Allison's room, and when they did they were off taking pictures or hanging with other folks their own age. We were clearly not the main attraction. We did manage to get up to Nine-Corner Lake, which is a popular hike (9/10th of a mile) up to a pristeen mountain lake. All the kids hang out there, as well as us oldies who want to see a bit of nature. As you can see, we had quite a great time. I was covered head to toe for the hike up the mountain, and of course when we got to the top, I began to peel off the layers of clothes to reveal my bathing suit top and shorts. And what should my wondering eyes reveal? A TICK! Just laying on my chest waiting to infiltrate. We brushed him off and there was no apparent connection, thank God, but for a moment I had a little private freak-out. All I need now is a relapse and we are back in trouble again. My latest blood tests have revealed a lyme disease remission (is that what they call it?) and so I am vigilant (hence the ugly scarf over my hair). But all trauma aside, we had a great day. We stayed at the base of the lake by the dam, and watched the strange teenagers across the way swinging and diving from the rocks. I call them strange, not because they were weird, but because none of them were mine. Allison made HER treck to Nine-Corner Lake later in the week. It's all good. Stay safe, stay cool, and stay connected!

Playing in the rain

I'm glad I was taught the skill of playing in the rain. When we were kids growing up on Long Island, and summers up at Candlewood Lake, there were always rainy days during summer vacation, and houses not big enough to contain the energy of three kids and their friends. I can distinctly remember being sent outside to play, even if it was raining. It didn't happen very often, but it did happen. And that is something that we don't do with our kids any more. I fondly look back at those times with wet sneakers and soaked t-shirts and shorts, having a ball in someone's backyard. The license to run out in the rain and stay out for as long as we wanted was radical, but it was the thought was that the temperature was the same as the lake or the pool that we were so desperately trying to get permission to get into-that rain couldn't possibly hurt us-and it didn't. I hope I gave my own kids that sense of freedom and fun. There is nothing like it. We went for our evening walk a few days ago and it was lightly raining. I brought me right back to those summer days when I was younger. We only did one lap because I wasn't THAT nostalgic, but it was enough to jar my memories and make me smile. Sometimes I have to stop myself from being so rigid-I have to try and have that same sense of WOW that I had when I was young. I'm not that terribly old, after all. But it is a slippery slope and I don't want to find myself at the botton, already rigid and unbending. Getting out in the rain and just letting go-doing whatever it was you planned on for a sunny day, and acting as though the rain were not a deterrent. Just do it. It is a beautiful chance to get outside and see what the rain brings out in nature-it's a different bunch of singing birds that hang out when its raining!

It could have gone either way

It never seems so long between blogs until I sit down and look at the LAST blog I wrote-and then I realize how long it's been. It's been dreary here, after a few glorious days over the past weekend. The bullfrogs are getting louder and louder-they sound like men now-deep throated and bullish. We're expecting company over the weekend and our house is spit and polished. I was shopping in town last week at a little shop on Main Street, and as I was browsing I heard the little old lady behind me say "do you know what you're having?" I was afraid to turn around because then I would KNOW that she was speaking to me. There were a few other people in the shop. I turned around and again was asked "do you know what you're having?" I should have been outraged that she was considering me to be pregnant due to the baggy shirt that I had on. I twas a totally reasonable assumption considering the outfit I had thrown on to get into town for certain errands. Just a baggy shirt over a pair of shorts and sandles. But really! I was mulling this over as I quickly worked out in my brain how I was going to respond to this horrific insult. I do know that even if I see someone about to drop a 10 pound baby inn the next hour, I make no mention of it until she FIRST says something about her pregnancy/imminent blessing, because I would be mortified if I was ever wrong. But this woman had no fear. She had gone where no man had gone before, the horrific social gaffe of assuming someone is pregnant. But in that split second of decision, I decided to be flattered that she thought I was YOUNG ENOUGH to be pregnant! Because at my age, that is quite a stretch after all! I just smiled and said "oh no, not me, it's just the shirt" with a laugh. She has no idea how lucky she was! It could have gone either way. I could have been outraged! As I got into my car I just had to laugh and thought "me? Pregnant?" Wow! Do I look that young? I guess it's just how you look at things. I walked with a certain spring in my step after that compliment! Have a great day!

Pick, Pick, Pick, talk a lot, talk a little more!

It's definitely going to take a little time to get the chickens here on the farm. Jerry doesn't say much about it, which translates into "I don't want to get involved". We have been crazy busy, to say the least, and I know that he's feeling a bit overwhelmed, but I am ready to take this on, and hopeful that our variance request will be accepted, just as soon as we write it and send it in! I've been reading up on chicken care, and basically, they raise themselves. Once you provide a safe coop and a fairly safe predator-free yard, they can be pretty darn easy to care for. Aside from cleaning and feeding, which I would imagine becomes second nature after a few tries, the chicken yard should be a moveable and easy access wood structure, which is strong enough to withstand at least a few snowfalls. I know that raking the roof on our OWN stucture becomes an issue in the wintertime, but I am confident that I could tackle at least that much. I like having some responsibility that is tied into the weather because of course the house is too much for me to get involved with, but the chicken coop should be more manageable! For an environment that has the potential for snow seven months out of the year, snow roof-removal is something you have to consider. Although I would like to free-range the chickens during the spring-summmer months, I know that keeping their yard near to the house eliminates the need for a distant walkway to the coop. We want it as close as possible during those bitter cold winter months-who wants to tread through the snow on a freezing November morning to get to the hen-house? NOT ME! And so, I have picked the corner of of the pasture that is closest to our house. I am scoping out chicken coops, and the slope roofed A-frame seems like the best sort of house to me, for a starter chicken farmer: It's compact, it can be easily wheeled around the property, and the hens can hang on on the grassy area below when they are confined. When they are NOT confined, a simple door on the side will allow their grazing and nit-picking to be done whereever they like. Now these are plans to be purchased, and I think with a materials list I might be able to pull this off. Right now I am observing Caroga Carl (our own personal ground hog) making his way around the pasture, so there is plenty of nature's gifts available for the chickens to find on their property. I'm not investing any money into the coop until we are given permission by the town of Caroga, but I'm getting all my chicks in a row, so to speak. I'll keep you posted!

Awesome.

It was a magical day last Friday. We were honored to watch our son Brian be sworn in as a Suffolk County Sheriff after six months at the police academy. It was a grueling time for Brian, and the following poem shares the sentiments of his Father Jerry, retired Detective from the Port Washington Police Department: When I earned my shield, thirty years ago I didn’t yet know what life would throw Like you, I wanted to be in the law As long as I’d known that was all that I saw. My Father was in a much different field It wasn’t his footsteps that sought out the shield. It was something in me that was mine alone. As it should be with you, as your footsteps are sown. I love nothing more when I hear it said, “A chip off the old block, he’s just like his Dad” And I couldn’t be happier to hand off my gun As you finally graduate, and I mean finally! My son. You are well-trained and confident! Of this I am sure. As were years of recruits who have gone-on before. You don’t need my assurance, you know what to do I don’t want to re-live my career through you. Make it your own, start with pride on your journey Understand that my job now is praying and worry. A moment, a second, will never go by that you aren’t in my thoughts, in my prayers, on my mind I love understanding - we’ll be able to chat About your experiences - this thing or that. And I’ll know when you’re suffering, so you won’t cry alone, when you speak of a loss, when we talk on the phone. I couldn’t be more honored, as this moment comes to pass My pride is even brighter than your uniform and brass Emotions aren’t likely when a cop is on the job When you asked me to pin your badge, I had to squelch a sob. To go through what you went through once, and take it on again! The studying, the endless tests, the sacrifice and pain. You are the greatest son, a Father ever had. God Bless you in your long career, from a proud and loving Dad.

Which came first? The Chicken, the egg, or the variance?

As spring winds down here in the northeast, summer is barreling in with heat and humidity. Today I will water the garden, water the porch plants, and water myself. I am grateful that I am not dressing for work these days, as shorts and a tank top is the way to go. I was glad when I was working to be in an environment where dressing "down" was OK during the summer months. For the civilian staff anyway. I pitied the cops with their wool uniforms and bullet-proof vests. It's hot out there. We've been experiencing a wildlife boost here, with all kinds of stuff appearing and making themselves heard. Yesterday I heard a "woofle, woofle" kind of cry from the woods. It sounded as close to a Jabberwocky would, in my mind, then I had ever heard before. When I went to the window to try and get a direction on this wild sound, it stopped. That led me to believe that this incredible creature was watching ME! As much as the woods have become more benign to me since we live here full time, there are still moments when I realize we are living in a wild environment and to watch my step. I haven't heard the jabberwocky since, but I am listening carefully! I am always amazed at the ability of the flower and fauna to grow up in such a short period of time. Nature is constantly amazing me. Just weeks ago, we were surround by grey and dead looking trees and branches, and pow! It was spring! The plants make up in strength what they were lacking in time! Healthy and brilliant plants surround us now, and I'm loving every minute of it. We finally got our full vegetable garden planted, and yesterday I made the trip to the local town hall to "inquire" as to whether or not chickens would be possible here on our property. It's a stretch, and we're still in the discussion phase of this possibility, but first step is getting a variance to allow "livestock" on the property. If you've been following our blog for any length of time, you remember our trip to town hall to request permission to raise Alpaca. We are in a very different place now, and due to health restrictions, I think chickens would be as large a livestock as I could take on right now. But I am inclined to raise our own chicken for eggs, and possibly meat, which I know is abhorrent to some, but ever since reading the book "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" (which I highly recommend) I am inclined to take on chickens for our own consumption. I'm not yet ready to become a vegetarian because the truth is, I love chicken. Beef has appeared less and less on our table, and we always discuss the pros and cons as we're eating it. More cons than pros by the way. But now, with me faced with a long summer ahead of us, I am really in the mode to produce SOMETHING besides bees on this farm. I'd love to give the chickens free range, and a humane end. I have a farmer in me somewhere and she's just screaming to get out. Now, if we were given permission to raise our own chickens that would entail some type of coop for egg hatching (another great chicken product that I happen to love) and winter protection. The plot thickens. So this is step one. We'll see!

Grass

Not that kind silly! I'm talking about lawns. I'm not sure I understand why we spend a fortune tilling and planting and rolling and all that, only to cut that which we have been nursing through growth. It becomes this war - growth against mowing. We spend a ridiculous amount of time and money cutting our well fertilized plots of land, be it a postage stamp on Long Island, or acres here in the north country. To me, there is nothing more lovely than a field of wildflowers. I know that our field does have them, but they have never been given the opportunity to grow. They are cut down in their prime, and the gently waving wildflowers of summer are not to be seen out my window. Instead, I see a manicured field of dreams. We have no baseball team here (at least none that I can see) but the field is beautifully manicured by Jerry, my personal landscaper. He is good enough to do the grunt work for the flowers and shrubs that I am requesting, and so I feel somewhat bad about commenting on the field/lawn. But truthfully, I would rather see the unmanicured wildflowers blowin in the wind. I wonder if we would see MORE wildlife, or if the animals like the landing field look. We had a turkey land here last week, and he hung around most of the day. At one point, he was sniffing and exploring the campfire, which hasen't been hot in a few days. I don't know what he thought of the whole area, but he was checking it all out. After quite a bit of time, he waddled under the deck and behind the house, heading towards Rogers next door. We haven't seen him since. We thought of inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner, but alas, he was a little young. Speaking of fields, we have been power walking after dinner each night, and last night we decided to bring Bailey with us. He is the only one of the three dogs who could possibly keep up with a brisk walk, and the only one who is interested in doing that. He was like a ball of fire! In and out of the cemetary headstones, he was running 3 miles to our one! I know he had a ball, because when we got home, he went to bed! And so, we do keep busy here, waiting for spring and summer, and just getting a little more cold weather than we were hoping for. 42 degrees this morning on the porch! We'll keep you posted! Anyone a member of the Caroga Lake Book Club? Our first meeting will be held this saturdaya at 7 PM at the clubhouse. The chosen book was "Water for Elephants". Get reading! Keep in touch-I love your feedback! Jen

Facing my Fears

Well folks, I've done the unthinkable! Last Thursday I went INTO the Bee yard with Dan the Bee guy. He was stepping up for Jerry, who has not had time for the bees since he's working full time. And so, with Dan's tutelage I faced my fears, donned the bee suit and went in. I was dressed in Jerry's bee outfit (which by the way does not win any awards for fashion) and felt confident that NOTHING could penetrate it. Truthfully, the bee suit is made up of camo pants (quite thick) and a white hooded number along with the hat, veil and leather gloves. I did think at one point that if this is something I'm going to make a habit of, we've got to work on the fashion aspect of it. But anyway, once I was suited up with all of it (including the gloves which were quite big) and with Dan's help tying off the veil, I stepped through the now opened electric fence, again thanking Dan for his expertise. There is lots to learn if I am ever going to take this on myself, without assistance. Getting INTO the yard is the first thing. I wouldn't know how to declassify the electric fence, and never felt the need to pay attention, even though Jerry tried to explain it every step of the way. "Go into the Bee Yard? NEVER!" I thought. Bees being my nemesis (what is plural for nemesis? Nemesises?) But with the bee yard languishing and all that honey going to well, the bees, I figured I better get with the program. And so Dan agreed to help me out and show me the ropes so to speak. Inside the bee yard, the drone of the bees got quite loud, surprisingly. I didn't think that bees could make that much noise. Having run from the drone of one single bee, I never gave the multitudes a chance to make any noise, and noise they make. It is truly a sound unlike any other I've ever heard. Dad loaded the smoker and gave that to me, to handle while he uncovered the top box. There are technical names for all of this but forgive me, I was terrified and not really paying attention to the small details. Mostly, I was looking for my point of egress in the event of a swarm. Dan was pleased to see that our hive was very active with apparently docile bees. A little smoke will do that. To us all. But I digress. The bees came out of the hive, interested in this intruder, but not really too concerned. As I said, I was smoking the hive to make them more concerned about the smoke than the intruder, as is the purpose of the smoker. Dan had to warn me a few times that we were interested in "gently" smoking the hive, not frying the bees, gently being the key word. But as I was learning, the smoke was effective and became my "go to" tool whenever fear got the best of me. This was a very foreign place for me, standing still while bees swarmed about me. Normally, you would be seeing my dust, but I was determined to do this. I stood still and let them check me out, praying that every point of closure was indeed, closed. I don't know how I would have reacted if a bee had gotten INSIDE the bees suit, as they have been known to do on occasion. I like to think I would have professionally ignored it, as these are the makers of the honey, the holy grail. But something tells me I would have squashed it pretty readily. I guess we won't know until it happens. I was at first breathing a little heavily, with the smell of fear in every breath, but I eventually got a little calmer and began to really watch what Dan was doing. The inside of an active beehive is an unbelievable sight. You cannot be prepared by watching it on the TV screen, as I have done many times, because the drone is of stacked beehives, not only the one you're peering into. There are virtually thousands of bees, working at their jobs. Most are uninterested in the large persons standing over their hive, and continue on their way. You can view all types of bees at work. Drones and workers are readily visible throughout their metamorphosos. We were searching for the Queen, who I would not have recognized without some more instruction, but we looked unsuccessfully throughout the entire hive. We were cleaning up the hive for splitting, moving some of the trays of honeycomb into a new box (again, I will know these names eventually) for splitting into a new hive. So taking a full beehive of bees and moving half into a new hive, hopefully bringing the Queen over with them, was our job. Somehow, the old hive will produce a new queen and continue their labors. That is how it works. I felt quite productive by the end, scraping the sides of old honeycomb and making room for the new bees. It seemed at this point in time that our bees are doing beautifully without our help. That makes me happy. It means we have provided our bees with a good environment to do what they do naturally, produce honey. I hope to have a nice harvest at the end of the summer, with enough for us, and enough to sustain our bees through the winter. See how I have changed my terms in to "Us" instead of "Me" and "Them". It happens quite naturally, and although I don't know what I would do without a bee suit, as Dan seems perfectly happy without (he's a little nuts that Dan) I was not as fearful coming out as I was going in. Mission Accomplished! As we speak I am observing a Turkey walking around our campfire and enjoying the seed that I have planted around the pond. I am a lover of nature, and this just beats all. We've never seen a turkey this close on our property. We assumed the scent of three dogs was enough to keep them away-apparently not! It has been a great week. Next week, we're back into the bee yard to make sure our changes have been well received. I hope so. I kinda like those bees. Who knew? (Pictures of these adventures will follow-as soon as Allison wakes up and shows me how to upload the new camera!)

Blogging. right. I forgot

Let me say this about aging. My memory is taking quite a beating. Whether it is age related, medication related, or early alzheimers, I'm not sure. But I actually have a problem remembering things that should come quite easily to me, and remembering things (like the first day of kindergarden) that should be well outside of my memory. As a result, blogging was one of those things that got thrown under the bus. I changed my e-mail from Rufflestuff@aol.com to CarogaQueenBee@aol.com. due to a hacker. Now I hope those "HeyTryViagra!" e-mails to my friends, family (and clergy-how fun) will stop. Please note if you're trying to reach me with no response. Anyway, because I haven't been blogging, I have a multitude of blogging topics that I have yet to delve into. Fist and foremost is PROM! Johnstown H.S. Prom was last weekend and I was lucky enough to have a hand in my beautiful daughter's choices and preparation. This is an honor that I do not take lightly! Prom girls are a difficult bunch to please, and I am happy to report that I did the job with pride, honor and a bit of trepidation. No one wants to be responsible for a prom disaster, least of all a Mother who is already treading on thin ice just by virtue of her existence. I came out on the other side happy and with my self-esteem intact. We were a team to be recognized that Allison and I! She provided me with the hair and instruction tutorials and I paid attention and got it right! The makeup was my own creation, because no one knows more about makeup and its bonuses than an aging prom-queen herself. And so, off she went happy with her hair and makeup, looking beautiful and way more worthy of the title "Most Beautiful Girl in the World" than she realises. Thank you Allison, I loved every minute and I'm already planning for next year. That being said, I realised that the mystery of shopping for women's clothes is much more different than picking up your tux in which they just took your measurement, sent you home. Oh no my friend, this is big business. Prom dresses can run up to $500 for the "budget conscious" and even more if you are out of your mind, and many girls (and Mother's with checkbooks) are out of their minds. This Mother was as practical as would be allowed, both by budget and the knowledge that this is one of the more important dresses in a girl's life, notwithstanding her bridal gown. They are in close competition. I will give you a brief tutorial on women's sizing and how women really perceive it: Size 0 to 4: These are not real sizes. They can never be found in a store, other than the big tag that hangs on the rack. This rack tag exists just to mess with your head. No one could possibly fit into these sizes. It's just not humanly possible. Size 5/6: This is the smallest of the real sizes. I was a size six for an hour and a half back in 1965 when I was in the second grade. I have been trying to re-achieve that size ever since, to no avail. It causes me to feel bad about myself. That's what they want. Women's sizes are doubled up (5/6, 7/8) because even the companies that manufacture the stuff can't decide what size it should REALLY be. So, they go with the generalization. Size 7/8: We're getting into the area of "Possible". Real girls can fit into these sizes, although they are girls who stopped eating. They may have an occasional salad or yogurt, but essentially, they are not eating anything worth eating. There is not a macaroni and cheese to be found on the menus of these 7/8 champions. I bow to them, they are incredibly well-disciplined and beautiful. Size 9/10: This is the cusp of the dark side. If you are a 9/10, you are dabbling in real food and maybe even dessert. And yet, against all odds, you are "carrying your weight" beautifully. No one calls a 9/10 "tiny", they say you carry your weight, implying that they are the same size, but have the misfortune of being "big boned, or short", none of which is in their control. It is a ridiculous comparison and should be erased from our vernacular, but these are sizes, not wishes. I am merely stating what is fact, that women are harder on each other than anyone else will ever be, except of course, herself. Size 11/12: You are now in the dark side. This is not a good size to be. You will feel bad about yourself the minute you realize that this is your true size. You will suck yourself into a size 9/10 to the point where it cuts off your circulation, as long as you can stay out off an 11/12. Better stores like Talbots and LL Bean simply re-do their clothes so that most women who are willing to spend on their clothes will find themselves in a size 6. It's not really a size 6, but just the fact that a tag will say 6 is enough of an incentive to spend more on the better brands. The more expensive the clothes, the smaller the sizes. It's a fact. Size 13/14: You are now entering the area of elastic waistbands and no style whatsoever. Polyester is a big design element in the 13/14 sizes and above. Polyester and cheesy florals. I don't know why this is, but sizing in these areas seems to be leaning towards nursing gear. Everyone looks like a nurse when you are size 13/14. If you're going to work as a nurse, that is fine. But when I'm dressing for weddings and coctail parties, scrubs is not my first thought. Maybe it's me. Size 15/16: This is the size where you march out the door and join weight watchers, where you pay for the privilege of getting on THEIR scale and being humiliated. Losing ten pounds seems to be the answer for all life's ills, and you are paying for that motivation and deprivation. You will PAY TO EAT LESS AND BE PUBLICALLY HUMILIATED. I have never understood this route, and yet a multi-billion dollar business is succeeding all on the backs of women who are feeling bad about themselves. I can do that with just a 7.99 mirror, but I digress. Size 18: This is never a 17/18. Just an 18. This is because they want to cut right to your heart. There is no shortening anything to 17, just go right to the worst number in the wardrobe field. This is the number that will cause you acute pain and possibly even tears in the dressing room. I have been there, and it does produce tears. This is not a goal number for anyone. This is the number where friends stop saying "you look fine" and just remain silent when you begin your self-bashing. No one, including Pollyanna (who was a size six-of course she was cheerful) can put a good spin on this. It is no-man's land. So, there you go, better educated for clothes shopping with women, which if you listen to your heart you will know that it is not a good idea for the faint of heart. There is not a women in the world who will remain rational when faced with a size they are not comfortable with. Be advised, there are exceptions to every rule, but it is a fact that women are harder on themselves than they need to be, and should be told from the time they are five years old that WHATEVER size they are is the right size. We need to start spending more time on IQ numbers than rack-size numbers. Women are beautiful, no matter what their size. I've seen lots of girls at this past prom weekend, and they seem poised and fun and wonderful at every turn. I was blessed with a few of my own, and I hope that humor and reality is something they have learned about their sizes. No size is the right size, obviously, and so I am hopefully going to take some of my own advice and lay off the self-criticism. But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy shopping at Talbots or LL Bean.

Urgh. Just urgh.

After writing a very clever blog this morning, and really giving it a determined and creative effort, I hit some button that wiped the entire thing from my screen, leaving me with the letters "ppe". If you need me, I will be at home today, drinking large quantities of herbal tea and sobbing into my delicately embroidered pillow. I will try again at another time, but not today. Along with the rain and the cold temperature outside, it is just too much.