Wednesday, December 15, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

This is my first day off, after a string of them behind a cash register. My busy workplace carries tough, lasting cold-weather clothing. The customers range from those wishing to look expensively “campy” to real time workers still grubby from the trenches.

It’s seductive to see and touch various apparel purchases for wearing and gifting. The store’s parent organization has given all employees a generous gift card. After days of thought, I started buying, and the gift allowed me a relatively-cheap makeover.

It feels that expensive clothing alters “my look”, transforms me. From pitiful, muddy rancher in Costco-cheap, to quasi-expensive, hip country-gal.

For years, I worked inside Costco and buying there has satisfied. Now there’s a problem from new jeans, shoes, and shirts. They comfortingly differ from cheaper, thinner clothing. Better elements of design, sturdiness, and padding, plus sporting designer labels, creates a little “head trip”.

It’s been years since I’ve experienced this. Way back, in my career days, I carried real leather bags, scribbled with uber-expensive pens, wore big-name watches, and so on. Everybody did in the corporate world. Expensive signalled stature. The instant I retired to Oregon, all that went away.

I’ve enjoyed my Costco trappings which signal “rancher with horses and dogs”. For awhile though, seasonal gifts from my employers will be fun-reminders of old days. I’ll play, but we all know the outer trappings don’t “make” a person. What does is the inner stuff.

That’s what I think about while checking out customers. Whether they’re draped in expensive or old ranch-stained, I’m seeking “some inner” of each. There’s little time for this. We check customers out quickly to avoid waiting buyers. Truthfully, a few seconds are enough for hints as to “the who” of an individual. Those glimpses are fun.

For awhile I’ll enjoy gifts that revive memories, but not for long. Truthfully, I wouldn’t exchange a single day of my retirement for a single one, or more, of the old days.

Dear Friends: Customers in working wear present more as honest and open. Diana

Tuesday, December 14, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

In a quiet moment a companion checker and I stand beside our registers. She’s twenty years old, very bright, tall, slender, attractive, and fun to work with. Besides, she’s a natural teacher, has helped me grasp many ins and outs of our “register biz”.

We’re silent at this moment, until finally, I sigh and say, “Well,….” I lose my thought as she looks over waiting. I smile, shrug, and say, “A deep thought.”

“What?”

I say, “Well.” But she frowns, doesn’t get it. I try to explain, “It’s a reference to ‘Well’, as a deep thought.”

“What?”

“‘Well’, just the word. ‘Well” is a deep thought.”

“What?”

I’m trapped, can’t communicate the logic of a phrase that’s a cultural norm among my generation. True, it’s been awhile since I’ve uttered, “Well….,” before losing my thought or deciding not to express more. The cultural norm in my day was terminating by shrugging and uttering the phrase, “That’s a deep subject.”

Listeners of my generation will reciprocate. On seeing my pause or shrug, another might end the moment for me, by laughing and saying, “That’s a deep subject.”

From generations behind, this moment’s attempts to explain to a young companion aren’t grasped. I feel deeply a generational gap. Well (and not intending a pun), I’m trapped in “a gap” about which she hasn’t a clue.

Yesterday in the lunchroom, something similar occurred. While several snacked and stared at our cellphones, I’m uncertain what happened. I read something or heard a comment that reminded me of an old movie, from 1944, entitled, “Farewell My Lovely”. It’s a detective story that starred a then-famous actor, Robert Mitchum. The script was based on a successful novel, “Farewell My Lovely”, by Raymond Chandler, an applauded author of dark stories.

Anyway, something I read or heard made me, after rising and saying, “I’m returning to work”, give a big wave and add, “So, farewell my lovelies.”

A something-twenties coworker laughed and handed me a surprise, “Coming from anyone but you, Diana, that could sound creepy.”

For explaining purposes, 1944 is eons ago and way before I comprehended movies. But I did grow up in eras of Hollywood’s great influence on culture. Suddenly yesterday, I recognized a string of associations that’s been long-stored in my subconscious.

Anyway today, I’m still loving the phrase and great title, “Farewell My Lovely”. It’s fun having stumbled yesterday, re-finding a few forever-stored bits in my mind’s deep pocket.

Plus, I “heart” a trusting young friend who wouldn’t judge as creepy something coming from me.

In the future, I’ll try to pre-think before speaking spontaneously. I’ll do well to consider possible differences in generational understandings.

Except for when I’m ringing out customers of a certain age, many of whom shop in our store. Sometimes, after swapping some sudden old-understanding, we do for seconds connect deeply.

Dear Friends: An old lady among younger’ns will practice treading thoughtfully. Diana

Monday, December 13, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

Another morning with limited time to write. Today, I’m a store-opener, and tired. We working there have been slammed with customers. Don’t misunderstand, that’s a good thing! But afterwards, we’re finding our ways home, exhausted.

Several days ago, a newspaper article sent me to a link for the Monterey Bay Aquarium. It offers a live feed from its Jelly Cam, where watchers in real time can see jellyfish swimming, all beautiful and relaxing. After live cam hours, recorded feed offers the same pleasurable viewing.

They’re soooo relaxing, those jellyfish! I’m practicing, evenings after work, spending a little time looking at jellyfish. An easy way to allow for myself time to drift and dream.

I’ll share, here’s a link: https://www.monter,eybayaquarium.org/animals/live-cams/jelly-cam

If you crave more action, select another live cam. The aquarium has dedicated cams on its Sea Turtles, Otters, Penguins. One outside and on the aquarium itself shows goings-on.

Dear Friends: Convenient, kind pauses, for feeling, meditating, creating. Diana

Sunday, December 12, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

Today, a quick hello before it gets time to leave for work.

I’ve something on my mind. More proof of the devastating influence of humans on our environment.

We’ve long been aware that wild birds in large numbers are diminishing. Now, after analyzing 92 percent of extant bird species, scientists have found that no single avian species numbers more than l.6 billion individuals. This is remarkable.

First, because it implies that humans, despite weighing more than common birds, outnumber every single bird species.

Second, because studies show that humans are fostering huge numbers of farmed chickens. In 2019, these avian species, numbering 25.9 billion, prove that chickens are now Earth’s most common bird species.

Humans are the reason many bird populations in nature are declining. Just as every year, human consumption of farmed chickens is rising.

My reference: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/silent-skies-billions-of-north-american-birds-have-vanished/

Dear Friends: Selfish human dominance, devastating and heartbreaking. Diana

Saturday, December 11, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

According to weather experts, this week the lower Cascades will receive snow. In this east-side foothills community with a great need for snow, we’re witnessing minimal falling flakes. Most locals, including we not into snow sports, are hoping for snow. Our inland city is surrounded by agricultural areas. We need annual healthy melt-offs to meet the water needs.

I moved here sixteen years ago, in the days that annual heavy snowfalls stopped traffic. Through winters folks stayed busy shoveling and snow-blowing. Local ski areas were big ticket destinations, remaining busy through their operating seasons.

This was/is a “winter town”.

The past few years have offered warmer winters with little (if any, to speak of) snow. Decreasing annual snow-melting makes water scarcity a major topic. Toward the end of last spring, many of Oregon’s natural lakes had very low water levels. Resident mature fish were so endangered that wildlife authorities began allowing unlicensed fishing.

Recently, a couple checking out through my register in the feed store where I work described themselves as “intrepid fishers”. They described fishing last season from water-starved lakes, said their catches didn’t taste good. It seemed their caught fish already had been suffering. The pair doesn’t expect to fish this year. There’s a low possibility of water levels regaining decency.

I ask people checking out their thoughts about water levels and possible snow. The long-time locals are worried, many newcomers not so much. Those newcomers will learn. The history of settlement in Central Oregon is all about this area’s mountains, trees, and water.

On moving here I cared little about water needs, a common discussion topic. I’m not a snow sports person and tended to ignore water worries. Now having learned some economics of water availability, I greatly wish for snow.

This community is horsey. I have horses, they’re my sport, and horses need hay. Current water conservation efforts allowing farmers limited supplies of water, means less watering and reduced viable yields. Hay consumers are facing skywards-driving costs, which won’t lessen unless snow falls, and lots of it.

Regardless of an individual’s sport preferences, and/or intellectual interests, or how long one has lived locally. We’ll all be forced to understand how, and from where, we receive water. We’re starting to understand how badly, and soon, we need lots more of “the how”.

Let it snow!

Dear Friends: I wish to have lived in “this perfect area” a hundred years ago. Diana

Friday, December 10, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

From my long-time friend, Julie. Today’s header photo is of her eleven-year-old granddaughter, Abby.

I’ve known Julie and her husband, Dave, for years, but only recently met her son, Matt (Abby’s dad). While checking him out in the feed store where I work, his name popped up on my register. He was buying chicken feed. We started talking.

A couple years ago, Julie and Dave brought Abby to my little ranch for a ride on my donkey, Pimmy. Abby loved that! Matt and I, on recognizing one another, talked about the Christmas Parade looming ahead. I wondered if Abby might enjoy riding Pimmy again, and this time in the Parade. I’ve written previously that she did ride, accompanied by Matt, her Aunt Darcy, and Grandma Julie.

My donkey has proved that she’s a great binder of friends. I’m learning that chickens are too.

Folks at my register with chicken feed share quick stories about their flocks. These are cold days, and some have chickens still laying, others with chickens on pause. Mine still are laying, and although daily yields are diminishing, the chickens are providing enough to share.

Anyway, I was the recipient of three left-over pumpkins. They stayed on the barn floor a day or so. I wasn’t eager to try cutting them for the barn-related animals. Earlier experiences taught me that pumpkin shells and skins are tough-tackles.

But my pony, Sunni, walked over to a pumpkin, opened her mouth wide and took a bite. After chewing, swallowing, and managing to take another big bite, she wandered away. For me, that was a teachable moment.

I set the bitten-into pumpkin and another whole one out with the horses. Next morning, there wasn’t a single sign of pumpkin-remains. Now, I knew it possible to offer pumpkins without having first to cut!

Nonetheless, for the chickens, I halved the one remaining whole pumpkin with a very sharp pruning saw, and set both halves in the chicken area. By day’s middle, both looked like this one pictured. By day’s end both were thin-skin bowls, wobbling in the breeze.

Abby’s love for donkey rides and for her chickens squarely fits her to the local environment. After a few more years, she might routinely come through my cash register line for feed of one kind or another. Then as I’m learning, we’ll swap short stories, we’ll catch up.

Dear Friends: Who ever dreamed that operating a cash register could be fun. Diana

Thursday, December 09, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

Last night, I toasted to a win in a major jumping horse competition. The winning horse was one that experts once believed could never again “do it”. His rider/adopter was one who never stopped believing, “he could”.

I’ve written previously about Avantos, once a world-recognized champion jumper, sent to retirement because over time his hooves had become very damaged, were too painful for his continuing to jump. My friend, Ashley, heard he might be re-homed and rushed to adopt the discard. She succeeded.

Ashley would have provided Avantos a wonderful forever home under any circumstances. She happens to have as an almost lifelong friend, Russ, who’s an experienced farrier. Among farriers, Russ might have few equals. He assessed Avantos’ hooves, had doubts but was willing to try repairing them. Long story short, over a couple of years his work and Ashley’s care have returned Avantos to excellent physical condition. The horse again is athletic and capable with hooves supporting properly.

Ashley’s friend Kelly called yesterday to share her excitement over Avantos’ win at Desert International, the West Coast’s most-premiere jumping show. The short version is that in Ashley’s round Avantos jumped first, which set a marker for performance. Another entry, to win, needed to best Avantos’ time completing the round, and match his no-fault performance. None succeeded.

Kelly added as background that Ashley hauls Avantos to a trainer’s facility twice weekly. But nobody else, including their capable trainer, ever rides Avantos. After taking instruction from the trainer, Ashley brings Avantos home and routinely works with him two hours daily. Every bit of accomplished good has arrived from Ashley’s dedication and Russ’s skill.

According to Russ (who also takes care of my equines), Avantos is a half-million-dollar horse. Russ took on those badly-damaged hooves because he’s known Ashley for years. He was certain she’d put in every other bit of effort needed to return Avantos from the brink.

Avantos is seventeen years old, and Russ says right in his prime. An athletic horse’s prime years are sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen.

Yesterday’s win was huge for Avantos and Ashley. Before leaving home for the show, Ashley said that at least three of the horse’s previous owners would be there and watching him. I’ll look forward to learning details when the duo’s home again.

Dear Friends: Learning, determination, and belief, all together a powerful trio. Diana

Wednesday, December 08, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

A small stuffed sloth was the toy first to capture my imagination.

The feed store where I work has customers coming through my cash register line with items needed for work and their large animals. They’ll often toss in a toy or two for their dogs. Customers and I laugh over cute squeaky toys, in shared moments that nudge me to take cute toys to my new puppy, Mitzvah.

She loves toys, holds and squeaks them, even while running. A couple of small balls from the feed store delighted her weeks ago when I adopted her. The toy most familiar to me is a ball, the favorite among my herding dogs. Over the last weeks and now with a small dog, while handling toys for customers I’ve thought about widening my scope.

Yesterday I spent time browsing the store’s toy section. I saw toys that have come across my check-stand and delighted me, but not now. The huge array of possibilities gave me a rather helpless feeling for deciding what beyond balls to hand my puppy. I didn’t realize how personal my choice would be, until I spotted the sloth.

I love sloths. Real ones, I mean. They’re one of the slowest animals on earth (maximum speed when threatened is 0.17 mph). They’re known to be one of the smartest animals. They’re also funny, very noisy, can live up to forty years, and aren’t good as pets. They’re very cute, and enough so, to diminish a social “bad rap”, for representing slowness from unwillingness and/or laziness.

Similar unpleasant notions exist about other fine animals. Like possums, which many people dislike, assuming terrible things about them. If humans would do even a slight bit of research before making assumptions based on appearances and mannerisms, we’d all feel awed by the wonderfulness of many animals that otherwise many of us downplay.

But I digress.

I brought home the stuffed possum, gave it to Mitzvah. Today as I write, constant squeaking sounds come from all corners in the house announcing, Mitzvah is busy.

It’s not occurred to me that maybe toy-type purchases reflect an individual’s outlooks and philosophies. Maybe pet-toy choices aren’t particularly random, and instead reflect rather closely some of a chooser’s inner-senses.

Dear Friends: Routine check-outs of animal toys will have me reflecting. Diana

Tuesday, December 07, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.).

Cacti grow in hundreds of varieties. The plants endlessly are interesting, they’re often surprising.

A little research to learn more about my beautiful Christmas Cactus (pictured), turned up the news that there are three very-similar varieties: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter Cacti.

Mine’s no Christmas Cactus. According to experts, it’s a Thanksgiving Cactus, easily recognized by the stem shapes. Thanksgiving Cacti stems have pointed and claw-shaped projections. That’s mine.

Here are the three varieties’ differing stems.

So, mine is a Schlumbergera truncata.

In Christmas Cacti, leaf segments have smooth, round edges. Thanksgiving Cacti have leafs pointy and jagged. Easter Cacti leafs have edges with bristles.

Aside that these varieties bloom in different seasons, they’re easily identified by how their flowers grow. A Christmas Cactus flowers flow downward. My Thanksgiving version grows them straight upwards. Easter cacti also grow upward, but with blooms very star-shaped.

Well, I’ve considered any wintertime leaf-bloomer a Christmas Cactus. Today’s bit of learning will go a long way.

I love my Thanksgiving Cactus, and now will add Christmas and Easter versions. The trio will illustrate the different blooming periods. They’ll show in real time the unique qualities among varieties.

Best, through our darkest months, November and December, two of my cacti will bloom and be colorful. And later, celebrating longer daylights, glorious star-shapes will be crowning my Easter Cactus.

Dear Friends: Cool ways of brightening winter’s climes and moods. Diana

Monday, December 06, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

A day off at last, after three straight working days. Not ordinary days, with Christmas coming and buyers worried about gift-stocks diminishing. At “my store”, running a cash register is beoming straight-on busy. Many evenings I must help to close the store and arrive home in darkness. Although I’m tired, more work’s ahead to care for waiting pets.

Speaking of pets I like my job in a feed and hardware store. Customers generally love their dogs, cats, horses, and reptiles. In moments of checking out, folks talk about their pets, what types they have and tell brief vignettes. Sometimes I speak about mine but mostly stay listening. Folks enjoy speaking of loves that aren’t overly challenging.

Customers buying hardware, at-work types wearing splattered clothing, speak quickly of their projects, and often explain a detail or two. Yesterday, someone told me how to build a goat feeder that can reduce hay wastage. (Goats are notorious for dropping hay, letting it mold on the ground.) While pitching hay waste, I groan about money waste. Hay’s in shorter supply now because of water shortages, has become incredibly expensive.

The same goes for all sorts of feeds. Grocery costs are becoming sky high, including pet foods. Customers say they’re finding grocery shelves emptied of common cat foods, like Friskies and Fancy Feast. That seems astonishing, but now everything’s about broken supply chains. A contemporary big issue is fewer active workers. And scarce working truck drivers.

So, my register brings shoppers, hurrying to find holiday and gift items they fear won’t be available much longer. Their concerns are catching, and I worry, too. For one thing, about whether to stockpile foods for my household pets.

We’re all in this together.

My work at a cash register is in an environment that allows employees to listen and care. That strengthens my sense of, and appreciation for the larger community.

Dear Friends: Yea! For working truck drivers, still transporting needed goods. Diana