Saturday, March 02, 2019

Over three days, we received snow up to two feet, and even deeper where high winds blew falling snow and created drifts. Outside, a person found plenty to do, like snow-blowing, removing snow from buried vehicles, and checking outside structures for damages from snow and ice. By the fifth snowy day, I began noticing feelings of being trapped. That actually, I wasn’t trapped didn’t curb my anxiety.

I trusted my discomforts were from feeling trapped “inside the house” and not something more like “inside myself”. But why care? My slightly on edge feelings were urging me to climb into my car and get away, to find someplace else, talk with people and see anything but snow. My first inclination was Home Depot with people, sights, and talking. Besides, it’s fun to see what’s new and gather ideas for projects and home improvements.

So, guess where I went. How about Costco! It has everything, people, food, furnishings, tools. Besides, it’s sort of a second home since I’m a part-time worker there. If what seemed most pressing was a need to talk with others, my buddy co-workers would be there.

So, I wandered around, saying hello to servers, talking about the weather, our dogs, and of course, customers and samples. I left there with a giant box of bird feed and an oversize bird feeder, and felt happy about being able to accommodate more birds. In these snowy days, the littlest–Juncos and house finches–are clustering at the feeders.

Best of all, the edgy feelings that drove me out into the larger world had disappeared. Now, I happily filled my new feeder, brought the dogs inside, and watched television. Good old Costco.

Last year, I wondered if Amazon could continue beating the socks off most brick and mortar retailers. Costco seemed to have fallen behind, but the store has begun catching up. It is increasing varieties of merchandise, beefing up internet sales, and of course, keeping it super easy to return unwanted merchandise.

Roaming aisles and eating free samples dissipates cabin fever as online stores can’t. At least partly, maybe that’s why Amazon is planning to start opening new food stores throughout the country.

Dear Readers, Hoping you don’t feel uncomfortably snowed-in! Diana

Friday, March 01, 2019

Andre Previn has died, at 89, after a lifetime of musical fame. He was multi-talented, a composer and jazz artist. He won four Oscars for his movie scores, conducted major orchestras worldwide, and collaborated with lyricists to create Broadway musicals. Previn became as recognizable as his elder contemporary Leonard Bernstein. He was youngish, appealing, often casual-looking in a turtleneck sweater and double-breasted jacket.

I loved Bernstein’s weekly television programs designed for young people. In each, he explained how a piece of well-known classical music had been developed, illustrated its major and minor themes, and demonstrated what made its composer highlight specific instruments. Bernstein was more famous and arguably a greater talent, but like Bernstein, Previn could do “it all”.

Previn had a long musical career and from his early teens became well-known. He also married four times. He and his second wife and music collaborator, Dory, received Oscar nominations for several of their movie scores. After Previn became romantically involved with one of Dory’s friends, Mia Farrow, he in a scandalous move abandoned Dory. That sudden liasion nearly crushed Dory, a fragile person, who subsequently spent time in a mental hospital.

I first learned about Dory Previn as she was recovering and writing in a manner that expressed ongoing anger and helplessness. A magazine (perhaps “Time”) carried an article about and quoting her: “I can’t go on; I can’t go on; I mean, I can’t go on; so I guess I’ll get up and go on.”

It hit me, her sadness, despondency, and yet, resilience. Her mood reflected mine at a time when I faced unusually difficult family problems. Her words, “get up and go on” became my mantra. After her divorce and recovery, Dory made four albums of songs about duplicity in friendship and faithlessness in marriage, mixed with her own fears and stresses. Her honesty awed my voiceless self.

Years later, I worked in a major aerospace company as a pricing analyst, a terrible role for one who barely can add numbers. When I got a new boss, numbers-oriented and younger than me, I thought, “Uh oh, he’ll be the end of me.” I read it right. We didn’t communicate well, nor mesh, and couldn’t hit it off. I worried constantly that he’d find a way to fire me. After all, his department was responsible for preparing negotiating positions. We had to gather information and analyze businesses by assessing their actual costs for labor, materials, manufacturing, and overhead. I couldn’t tell an overhead from an underhead.

The endgame began when he gave me the difficult task of preparing a negotiating position with a company that was manufacturing a complex wing for our new fighter jet. I had to grasp the manufacturing process and learn how that company was pricing the wing. I knew I must succeed (“I must go on!”). I spent days at the manufacturer’s, asking thousands of questions, jotting all responses, and then, spent days trying to unravel my notes. Afterwards, my boss took me into a conference room where we spent two long weeks collaborating. He managed to make sense of the numbers while the descriptive narrative I created far exceeded his expectations. We emerged, at last friendlier.

One day as we traveled between facilities, something on the car radio reminded me of a lyric by Dory. When I mentioned this, he looked surprised, “You know Dory Previn?” He grinned, “I love her!” He asked if I’d heard thus and such by her, and I asked him about other thuses and suches. We were mutually appreciative and my job felt safer. Dory sealed it!

What keeps this alive for me is that the fellow, whom I liked less than anybody I knew, wound up becoming my friend, someone I trusted. It’s been many years since I saw or heard anything of him; but since yesterday morning and while thinking about the Previns, he’s been on my mind.

So, we keep getting up and going on.

Dear Readers, Have a great day with an open ear for cool music. Diana

February 28, 2019

I’ve rattled on long enough about snow and won’t go into details about my Jeep stuck in a berm from a county snow plow at the end of my driveway, nor my subsequent rescue by neighbors as snow fell heavily. I won’t wax about another day spent behind snowblowers renewing paths so walkers can move safely. I won’t describe my aching back, shoulders, and sheer weariness. None of that this morning.

The outside temperature is 9 degrees, so another cold one. Soon after feeding the animals, I’ll refocus, by picking up a book I’ve wanted to read. It’s been on standby, a nonfiction work by one of my favorite authors, Jane Lepore, The Secret History of Wonder Woman.

Lepore is an historian on Harvard’s faculty who also writes for “The New Yorker”. She’s a diligent researcher, a fine writer who gets inside her topics. Now, Lepore traces the impetus of William Marston to create Wonder Woman and his character’s genesis, her impact on social development alongside an evolving self-awareness among women of their expanding social roles. (BTW, Marston also invented the lie detector.)

This is a tantalizing read as there’s the possibility of a renewal of an ERA amendment. An ERA is more possible after last week when a federal district judge in Houston declared that the male-only draft registration system violates a constitutional requirement for the government to treat men and women equally. (https://www.nytimes.com/2019/02/28/opinion/rbg-supreme-court.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage&section=Opinion) Eliminating the longtime ban on drafting women would remove a last significant argument against equal rights.

In the early 1940’s, the Wonder Woman character emerged as a collection of sexual fantasies, perhaps why the character stayed alive. She grew, however, alongside changes in women’s social roles, maybe especially, the real-life experience, growth, and influence of America’s venerated Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

Politics today often leave me cold, and when so I’d rather be out in the actual cold running a snowblower. My greater interests are in the social development people have experienced or at least witnessed since the Great Depression. I like the idea of starting with Lepore’s book about a cartoon character from the 1940s that gradually drifts into a significant social symbol. And today, America’s recent national election that drew more women and people of color into national politics. Diversity will continue to influence social change.

Dear Readers, Have a great day, read a good book. Diana

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

As I coped with already deep snow, yesterday afternoon new snow fell. It partially re-filled the walking channels that I’d blown earlier so I could move safely around the property. This morning, more snow-blowing will renew those channels, and also, create walking paths in the horses’ dry lot. There, snow is very deep and unsafe for hauling hay out, for horses mill eagerly, sometimes crowding a bit.

Since a picture is worth (to me, more than) 1,000 words, this quick view of accumulating snow over a few days shows the furnishings on my deck losing their identities.

Prior to yesterday’s newest snow shower, I went outside with a camera to capture some incredible scenery, like junipers so heavily ladened that snow has their limbs drooping almost to the ground.

My property looks different from any prior time, and so, I wandered while daydreaming and taking photos. Suddenly, I saw my next door neighbor, Annette, walking toward me.

She was coming to offer help for clearing snow and enjoyed finding that I had snow-blown needed pathways. We trekked together on one and discovered this standalone, delicately frosted beauty.

All that happened before new snow fell for hours late yesterday. This morning, I’ll again crank up the blowers.

Dear Readers, The sun’s out now, and also, hopefully shines on you. Diana

Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Yesterday morning, I considered blissfully the snow that had fallen for 24 hours and would continue for 12 hours more. When snowing began on the east side of town where I live, its drops resembled “heavy rain”, snowlike but not sticking. On the opposite side of town near the Cascade Mountains snow accumulated and by mid-afternoon folks saw lots of white stuff. On my “desert side” of town, in late afternoon the heavy-looking rain finally became real snow and fell all night. Early in the morning when I awakened and began writing, the pretty world through windows looked inviting.

Friends in farther north communities described how their places were snowed-in, and snow two- or three-feet deep forced them to find ways to escape their houses and shovel away before they could force open a door. Well, they were miles up the road and way north, maybe not a highly unusual situation.

Well, I found on sauntering outside snow very deep, nearly reaching my knees, difficult to wade through, and still falling heavily. I re-entered the house, pulled on tallest boots (reaching my knees) and strapped on cleats. I began walking downhill to the barn, carrying boom-sticks as walking aids. Wading through deep accumulations brings a sense of losing balance.

Mostly that day, I snow-fought as heavy snowing continued so that flattening the existing two feet seemed endless. I figured that if two feet more fell, this effort beat waiting and then having to work through four feet. These long winter months, with little physical exercise, I now was moving a heavy snowblower through deep snow, up and down a long driveway. That was the beginning, for I also needed a walkable uphill-downhill path from house-to-barn.

Snowing continued until late afternoon when for a moment the sun even came out. Finally, I could walk through snow, only ankle-deep, to feed the large animals. On returning to the house and thankful my labors were done, I found myself locked out! The shed with a spare key has a combination lock, it was frozen shut. A neighbor with a key to my house was home! My boomsticks helped me down the now-easier driveway, balanced me while wading the roadway’s deep snow before reaching my neighbor’s cleared driveway, and finally, supported my trip home with a key to my warm house.

In reality, I didn’t consider beauty, peacefulness, privacy, or reading and listening to music while sitting beside a window. The realities were my horses–hungry, frosty, covered in icicles, and my cat–now grounded!–who captured an unlucky bird. And so much hard work! At day’s end little of me remained except going to bed. Falling asleep, I wondered what on earth ever made me decide to leave Southern California.

According to the local newspaper, yesterday’s snowfall set an area record. It predicts that that tomorrow will bring new snow, it’ll fall another two days.

Dear Readers, Stay warm & cozy, March will be a cold story, too. Diana

Monday, February 25, 2019

We’re in the midst of a lulu snowstorm. Early yesterday snow began, and on my side of town, it seemed funny–almost like a “warm snow”, falling constantly but not sticking to the ground. During the day, friends with homes on the opposite side of town reported experiencing very deep snow. On this side our situation didn’t change, until around 5 p.m., when snow became heavier and began to accumulate on the ground.

We had been warned to expect a foot or more of snow. Most of yesterday, I laughed, thinking that the moisture falling on us east-siders would continue on more like rain. Now early this morning, after snow has continued to fall, everywhere there’s at least a foot of white stuff–and it’s still falling!

Later, after kicking my way through big drifts, I’ll be in the barn feeding the larger animals. Fortunately, two snowblowers are ready–one to make it safer to navigate around the barn and to create an uphill path to my house; the other to clear the garage area and long driveway stretching to the street.

It’s our first “really big” snow since the one several years ago that introduced this newbie to one of Oregon’s really tough winters. It taught me to prepare ahead for heavy snows. Back then for weeks, snow fell steadily, daily bringing several new feet over an icy base. This seemed to last forever, and by the time I grasped the gravity, there wasn’t a snow blower left for sale in Central Oregon. Thankfully, my generous neighbor had a snowblower and cleared my driveway. So now, though this snow seems daunting, two blowing devices make me feel less challenged.

One also keeps looking for extraordinary problems–like the weight of snow and ice that becomes clumped in rain gutters and on the rooftop. And, heaven forbid, leaking skylights and ceilings. Looking up and around may spot problems, but maybe they aren’t easily fixable. In this relatively small community, even in emergencies, inclement weather makes it as difficult to obtain professional help as trying several years ago to find a snowblower.

Let’s not forget though, that there’s a big upside because new snow draws us out of doors. It makes the world look more beautiful and cleaner. It feeds our wishes for some peace and privacy.

To photographers, Nature offers endless possibilities. In snow, unusual colors and altered terrains allow for capturing unique images, and life itself! Beautiful horses cantering, bucking, kicking up snow. Kids sledding and building snow people. Dogs racing, cavorting, and exploring “the underneath”.

This weather also allows time and gives permission to stay indoors, maybe before a warm fire and with a book one wants to read. Add a cup of tea, and unless it’s distracting some background music. And finally, settle in to enjoy a lovely stretch of vegging.

Dear Readers, For the “hungry littles”, keep your bird feeders full. Diana

Sunday, February 24, 2019

Many in our local breast cancer group, including me, have just learned that a group member and our friend, Cathi Thomas, died recently. Cathi for years fought ovarian cancer and long had been in remission. She didn’t attend our cancer meetings every week but showed up enough to be known and appreciated. Cathi stayed busy with many interests. She was a careful planner who seemed sometimes in a hurry to move on to her next stop. Activities high on her list included bird-watching, traveling, and attending concerts (she loved a recent Lady Gaga event in the Tri Cities), and sharing activities with her adult children.

She first captured my attention after her return from an Hawaiian vacation, while she described renting a car, asking around, driving to recommended spots for bird watching, and seeing fabulous birds. I introduced myself as a fellow bird admirer and we became friends. She stayed active with local bird watching groups and always let me know when special birds were nearby, where to find and how best to watch them. Last year, a rare trumpeter swan landed locally and made more news by hanging around. Cathi was excited, found the bird and told me where, took a camera, and hurried to photograph it.

Our informal cancer group for years has met regularly, welcoming anyone with a cancer issue. Some attendees actively battle the disease, others are in remission. Long-time regulars hold the group together, keep its weekly meetings going. Members are in various stages, from actively battling cancer to being in remission. The group isn’t exclusive to breast cancer, some have other cancers. In the years that I participated, we lost a few friends, and periodic losses, even those anticipated, are sorrowful blows.

One day not long ago, while I was working at Costco (my part-time job), Cathi came into the store and paused a few minutes to chat with me. This time, she said that she’d just been rediagnosed with a renewed and aggressive ovarian cancer. Her serious condition demanded rounds of chemotherapy and radiation. “I’ve already done all that,” she said, “and I’m not going through it again.” She looked at me, said clearly, “I’m chosing palliative care.” Unsure what to say, I hugged her. That was the last time I saw Cathi.

Recently, I learned that during Cathi’s final weeks, she actively gathered others with ovarian cancer and started a group for that disease, participating until her death. Recently, the ovarian group celebrated Cathi’s life by gathering at her favorite pub. Maybe the breast cancer group will plan an event for Cathi, to remember and say goodbye.

Dear Readers, have a good day, appreciate and enjoy friends. Diana

Saturday, February 23, 2019

One morning last October, my left knee became suddenly painful, such that I had trouble trying to sit down, stand up, and worst of all, just walking. That day at work, folks noticed and asked, “Why are you dragging your foot?” It was because my knee, somehow, was “locking up”, hurting, and refusing to bend. Well, I’m a horsewoman, and guessed my knee had been injured from dancing around with the animals, or maybe while entering or exiting my horse trailer’s tight quarters. Over time, experiences with minor injuries teach us that most things heal eventually.

Over the next three months, the “locking” became less frequent and the knee pain seemed less awful. But it still hurt trying to sit down and then to stand up. I coped with knee pain while in bed and while needing my knee to enter and exit cars. Worst of all was the intolerable pain of my weight while on hands and knees–say to clean a birdcage or wipe some spot on the floor. In January, I consulted a highly-recommended orthopedic specialist.

An x-ray indicated in my knee a torn meniscus, which is reparable. The next steps would be to obtain an MRI for confirmation, and then, have orthoscopic surgery–a brief outpatient procedure with relatively short recovery time. This seemed do-able for someone with property and animal responsibilities, though I might need a little help. I left The Center, glad I’d gone there, now understood the problem and how to cope with it.

I prepared by arranging for time off from work, talking with friends about needing help, and readying my house for a semi-invalid. Yesterday, I returned to The Center for MRI results. The surgeon explained that to their own great surprise, the electronic scan didn’t show a torn ligament, but instead, an arthritic knee. It’s not fixable with surgery. He said my knee could receive a shot of pain medication, the only help for arthritis that hasn’t deteriorated to bone-on-bone.

Some friends, who’ve experienced pain shots have told me that the medication didn’t relieve them. Yesterday, my doc replied that my only choices were to have or not have a shot. Afterward it seemed, and now I’m certain, that the instant medication flowed into my knee every smattering of pain disappeared. The doc said the med needs a couple of days to fully kick in. But this morning, I’ve been pain-free while practicing sitting down, standing up, lowering to hands and knees, and then, uprighting myself. O Happy Day!

If all goes well, if I’m pain-free after our snows melt away, I’ll go out and start ground-driving the horses. It’s a daily workout before another summer of hard work and requires from me agility, balance, and footwork. Horsepeople need working knees!

Dear Readers, thanks for journeying with me and have a great day. Diana

Friday, February 22, 2019

Through these weeks of cold, snowy, sleeting, slippery weather, I’ve hauled bags of birdseed home for the wild little guys. Some of my bird feeders hang down by the barn and out of sight unless I happen to be working nearby. More feeders hang at the house immediately outside windows. It’s fun watching Juncos and Finches flit to and from feeders, and alternately looking upward, at Robins in flocks skittering among the high twisted limbs of junipers, gobbling the berries.

One of my favorite winter species is Townsend’s Solitaire. Their metallic-sounding calls announce their annual returns and the onset of this area’s cooler weather. Like Robins, the Solitaires feed on insects and juniper berries. Their unique warning calls draw an onlooker’s gaze upward to where a lone Solitaire perched atop a very tall tree guards its territory. Solitaires are thrushes and also produce lovely songs. In coldest weather, the birds fluff-up to stay warm by self-transforming into feathery balls.

Mostly, this winter has produced strings of days with ground-to-horizon and nearly non-stop grayness. Upon hearing a bird call, looking up and catching sight of a Solitaire almost resembles looking yonder at barely-visible horses.

Mostly yesterday it snowed, and the atmosphere stayed gray. After leading the horses to pasture, I filled bird feeders and took care of scant bits of housework. Later that morning, I settled beside a window in an easy chair. And with a book in my hands, a camera nearby, the cat nesting on my lap, and surrounded by dozing dogs, I watched for visiting birds.

Dear Readers, have fun and turn this day into a creative one. Diana

Thursday, February 21, 2019

I enjoy writing about animals, they’re interesting, fun, and teach us about ourselves. My assortment consists of equines, goats, chickens, dogs, a cat, and two birds. Some are outside only, others go in and out, and the birds inside-only unless on my shoulder or safely caged. Those from my past are as important as these in my now. There’s much that our beloved animals offer, what they mean to people. Thinking about this reminds me of a video from years ago, a short piece, about a retired elephant, the old man who had trained her, and after fifteen years of separation, their reunion.

Years ago, when I lived in Los Angeles, our local PBS station often aired general interest videos by Huell Howser, a creative, semi-professional writer/videographer. That station periodically re-aired some of his pieces, and a couple were unforgettable (they’re also Howser’s favorites). To me, his most powerful video (and Howser’s personal top-pick) was entitled, “An Elephant Never Forgets”.

Recently, I began writing my daily blogs online and using photographs to suggest topics and guide my writing. This has managed to transform my “blog thinking” into a much more visual process. Most of my personal photos reflect living and interacting with animals. Thinking about this has intensified an old wish to revisit Howser’s “elephant story”, until finally, I went searching and found it on YouTube.

Huell shot his video in 1988 when the elephant, Nita, was 38 years old and her trainer Charley Franks was 80. Both had been retired for years. Charley had purchased Nita when she was five, trained her, and together they traveled the world as entertainers. When Charley retired, to ensure Nita’s lifelong safety, he donated her to the San Diego Wild Animal Park. He’d not seen her for fifteen years, this would be their one reunion. Charley died a year later in 1989. The Park continued to care for Nita until her death, at age 60, in 2009.

Howser later said publicly, that among his hundreds of human interest videos, this reunion was an absolute standout, and he’d been honored to witness it. Although years ago I saw his video several times, today while viewing it again, I’m touched deeply by this unforgettable capture of a powerful relationship. Here’s the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxX3E5asZA4

Dear Readers: Have a wonderful day. Diana