I do not have much to talk about, unless you want to hear about house cleaning. 3 miles on the treadmill. Signing up for a fitness program. The joy of watching little tomato, pepper, and cucumber plants emerging from the dirt on their table in front of a window.
Nah. I wouldn't want to hear about it either.
You know the story from last post? About walking around the pool with an dear old man, listening to his stories about his friend Johnny Walker? Well, in thinking about it, I began to wonder how a Scotch distiller wound up in the west in the early 1930s. Did he come here to start up an American branch of the family business?
Prohibition ended in 1933. The business would have taken a while to build. Scotch whisky is aged, which would take some years. I have no doubt that it would have been a profitable enterprise but it would have taken a while to be generating the money required to run a ranch of the size that Mike so fondly described all those years later (circa early 1990s).
Down a rabbit hole I went.
Johnny Walker whisky is made only in Scotland was the first thing I discovered.
More reading lead me to learn that there is no records of the distillery decendents trickling in to America. They were doing well in the family business and proud of their heritage.
I was a bit dumbfounded. Mike was an old man, a stroke patient, and sometimes he could get confused and irrational if he was tired. Those moments were the exception to the rule. Or so I thought. 35 years later, I began to wonder.
I typed in Walker Ranch, and up popped a pile of entries. There were several huge operations, but I think it is most likely the Walker ranch that is now an historical site. The business started out in lumber. The ranch grew in physical size and added cattle/beef production which allowed James Walker to pay off his debts and grow the ranch even more. Minerals were discovered, to include gold, and an English company came in to handle that part of the family business.
At that point, I could see how the son of a man who owned a steel mill out east and a ranch owner's son from out west could cross paths in a private boarding school.
But...Mike's comment that 'the boys' would never make fun of how a boy's father made his money was, I guess, a general comment meant to not to say that Johnny (Johnnie) Walker was that Johnnie Walker. More, I guess that those children of privilege did not speak of their fathers' money and where it came from.
So...that was an interesting detour.
We went up to make sausage with Levi and Mattie. That was great fun. We got there at 9:30. A whole hog, split in two halves lay on two large folding banquet tables. There had been a 2 hour school delay, so they'd already processed (and ground) the first hog. Mattie already had 18 jars of pork going on the biggest canner I have ever seen in my life.
Levi separated the sides into three portions, front legs, back legs, and rib cage and everyone grabbed a knife and went to work. The meat cut from the bones was collected by Andy, who took it out to the grinder, and returned for more cuttings when he was done. In this way, we were finished with that part of things in no more than an hour. A neighbor had come over to shoot the breeze and it was a happy time.
280 pounds of meat was brought in and turned into sausage. The sausage stuffer was a hand crank, but it was efficient. As quickly as the basin filled with sausage, Reuben and Andy hung the ropes on six sturdy poles for the smokehouse.
It was a nice way to get a lot of work done in such a way that it did not seem like work at all. It was also amazing to watch 8 and 9 year olds wielding very sharp knives with such expertise.
We had a nice lunch of fresh sausage with fried onions and pie for dessert.
I came home and made cheese. It was something called 'Farmer Cheese'. It was not what I wanted. It is more like a cream cheese. I turned it into an herb cheese, and it is delicious on crackers. It was not a failed experiment, to be sure.
I also saved two legs from the bones to make a good broth. It will make a good soup base. I ended up with 7 quarts.
Shel Silverstein is always good for a laugh.
Live and let live.
The windchimes I bought are put out by a company called Wind River. The particular one is Shenandoah Melody. They are musically tuned g, a, b,d,e, a pentatonic scale. They are created in a way to maximize the reverberation. The sound is so pleasing (to my ear, anyhow) and the best way I describe it is that it reminds me of something I can't quite remember.
I have always loved windchimes, from the time I was a child. My grandmother had some glass ones that tinkled in a small, cheerful way. They hung inside in front of a window.
In looking through Wind River's online catalog I saw they had chimes for over a thousand dollars. That I cannot imagine, and it made me feel quite thrifty.
I have been dreaming strange and vivid dreams. Peculiar things like Tim and I took my youngest granddaughter somewhere. Inexplicably, we came home without her. I woke up from that dream in a panic.
I have also been dreaming of places and people from years back...like 30 years ago. One dream intrigued me. Years ago, I was caring for a stroke patient, a wonderful man who taught me a great deal about birds and human nature. His stroke had been a bad one.
The thing is that this man was rich. Probably the richest man I will ever meet in my life, although I will never be able to put any kind of number to it. He was sent off to boarding school as a 6 year old. He was very frightened and cried himself to sleep at night. The other boys called him 'the ghost' because he was so withdrawn and pale.
After a time, he did make a friend. This friend's father felt so very sorry for this lonely boy that he worked a deal. My friend began to spend his summers out west at the family ranch, riding horses, spending long days in the great outdoors.
He tried to explain to me how life changing that was for him. Johnny Walker was his best friend, and his family treated him like one of their own. I laughed the first time I heard Johnny Walker's name. I was walking with my friend as he did his laps with his walker around the pool.
He stopped to look at me, quizzically. "Why is that funny?"
I said, "Johnny Walker is the name of a whisky."
He looked at me through his shaggy mop of gray hair and said, "the boys would never make fun of a boy for how his father made his money."
I laughed. "Mike, I said, "you and I are from two very different worlds. I forget that sometimes!"
He was never mean about these explanations. He was just as dumbfounded by the fact that my father did not own a boat. His own summer home was on a huge lake and he loved sailing.
Anyways, his daughter popped into one of those vivid dreams. What I remember about the dream the most is that polite distance. She answered when I talked but moved around taking care of things in her big house. She made no effort to initiate conversation with me. Not so different really from how it was all those years ago. She was maybe 10 years older than me.
As laid back as her father was, she and her mother were cut from another piece of cloth. They were very class conscious. All of his kids were, really. So it was an interesting experience, working for them.
Anyways, I dreamed of this daughter. She would be in her late 70s, I figured. So I did a bit of Facebook stalking, and found her. She had died. I looked up her obituary and was a little surprised to see that one of her daughters had died, a few months before. More shocking, of her three brothers, only one was left. She, her daughter and her two brothers had all died within a year of each other. Stalking even further, one of the brothers had been widowed at a young age. His daughter died of a drug overdose at 15.
That is a lot of tragedy, isn't it? There are some things, I suppose, that all the money in the world will not protect you from.
I did a bit more reading about my old friend's now grown grandchildren. It was a bit of a surprise to see that they were quite a class conscious group. They were young and wealthy and nothing else really seemed to matter beyond that.
Isn't is strange that there are people who have so much money that they essentially live in their own bubble? A world within the world that most of us live in.
I am not saying it to be mean. It is just a curiosity to me, just as, all those years ago their grandfather told me stories about his life, and I told him stories about my own. Both of us listened to each other, fascinated by things beyond our own horizons.
Anyways, time for me to hit the hay. Levi and Mattie butchered two pigs. They are making sausage tomorrow. I am going up to help and to learn something new.
The girl was certain she had put it in the folder. She hadn't. She said that it could not be reprinted. We received verification paperwork, but there was nothing about the oldest CD.
So off to the bank we went. A woman walked up to us and asked if she could help us, so I began to explain to her. She was helping another customer she said.
The question begs an answer: why would you offer to help someone if you didn't have time to help them? I mean, we were headed to take a seat to wait. She was the one who asked if she could help us.
Anyway, when she came out and called us into her office, I pulled out the folders and explained the situation. All we needed was something that we could put in this folder so that our executor had all the information. I showed her the previous folder which showed the CD, showed it matured on Feb 1st, but that nothing came in the new paperwork to indicate what we did with it.
To her credit, she agreed that we did have to get that corrected. For whatever reason, the address change was not noted on that. She corrected it. While she could not print out the certificate, she did provide a printout that showed that the CD had been contined for another 7 months, what the interest rate was and when it matured. I stapled that printout to the previous information. That was done.
We went to the Goodwill. I needed a couple plates that I could put in the microwave. We very quickly found what we needed. Tim picked them out.
What happened next was all Tim's fault. He noticed a store he'd never been in. They had a lot of stuff. One thing I saw, I had never seen before...windchimes for $750. I touched the striker and it was so lovely. The deep tone reverberated wonderfully.
$750, though.
I looked at the others. A 59 in set could be had for a bit over half that. Still...it was an awful lot of money. We walked around the store a bit, but I could not get those lovely chimes off my mind. Tim found something that interested him.
At the checkout counter, I made up my mind. I wanted those chimes. Tim was a bit surprised. I said, 'If you want a truck, you buy a truck. If you decide to build on to an already massive garage, you just do it. I want those windchimes. I am making an executive decision here.'
It is the most extravagant thing I have ever done for me.
I have them hanging in the basement right now. The winds are blowing at 30 mph, with gusts of 65 mph. We don't have power. Guess I will just go to bed.
Oh...my great achievement was that I gave Fred a pill. I lived to tell the tale. No blood was shed. However, the cat is shunning me.
Today was such a beautiful day, 73°, wind blowing in a very determined (but warm!) way. It is a sunny day, with quite a bank of dark clouds glowering from the west. Tomorrow is supposed to be a pretty stormy day, waking up to thunderstorms, followed by multiple fronts moving through all day long. They are warning of EF2 tornadoes and damaging hail. Thursday: snow. St Patrick's Day? High of 26°.
Ah, spring!
So I spent today outside. I planted all the seeds that need started indoors. I uncovered all of the raised beds, stirred in some compost and fine sawdust. I was pleased to see that I have thyme, basil, and garlic coming up.
I planted flowers, cleaned winter debris, hauled my tomato cages up.
I helped Tim put tin on a roof. Tricky business hauling 4x8 sheets of tin in a brisk wind, but I managed not to blow away.
PBS News Hour is not available. Anyone else seeing that?
650 ICE agents are still in Minnesota. That is 4x what is expected. They are picking up pregnant women from their scheduled appointments. Women are not keeping appointments and giving birth at home. Medical personnel are mobilized to address this.
Lindsey Graham wants Arab countries to join the fight.
https://share.google/2P2RtEOEVfUPhxoD2
Who would miss a chance to be a part of this?
*eyeroll*
My sister and her husband came for black bean soup and fajitas. I was disappointed with my tortillas. The were passable, but not nearly as nice as my daughter-in-law's are. I will try again.
Two games of scrabble. I won the first by the skin of my teeth. She trounced me on the second game.
I watched Hamnet today. What a remarkable film! So very well done. Cried my head off.
I saw Phantom, stray cat. I also saw him attack Possum. We can't have that.
My smart watch uses an app. It did not adjust the time one hour ahead for daylight savings time. The watch said I needed to sync it to my phone, but my phone would not allow me to access the account without providing a credit card. It is a free app! I was assured that the card would not be charged...that this was for 'verification' only.
I clicked out of it. They had no need for that information. My watch reset itself to the proper time.
Country Joe died today. He was 84.
The mushroom class was fun. I have a log inoculated with lion's mane. Met some neat folks. The 'teacher' fell into the whole thing by accident. He lived in Virginia. There were limestone caves. He started growing mushrooms. It went so well that he wound up growing high specialty mushrooms for high end restaurants. He had a lot of knowledge.
I met a bee keeper. There are bee keeping meetings. A chance to learn something new. So that is an opportunity.
I met a woman who hasn't had a TV since the 1980s. She said, 'I am a weirdo...' A very serene weirdo, I have to say.
We had our first thunderstorm. Short, sweet but it was a doozy. I love thunderstorms.
Our owl is a Great horned owl. He sounds like he is calling from the swamp.
No what else is calling from the swamp? Peepers! That is a sure sign of spring.
Lots of little joys.
But our president is still a lunatic. Stark raving. We have boots on the ground in Ecuador. He is saying that Cuba is going to be attacked. I can't believe that our military is violating the Geneva Convention. Every day brings us to another level of crazy.
This morning, gas prices were $3.79, up 50 cents in just five days. What are you folks seeing?
We have an owl hooting tonight.
Tomorrow I have a mushroom growing class. Looking forward to that. Also looking forward to a 70 degree day.
Of course next week, we are supposed to get 3 inches of snow.
I am starting tomato seeds.
It is the little things.
I was shocked to see a post from a family member today. It basically stated that she always saw 47 as a great man. However now that she has watched him being attacked from all sides, she realizes that to have so many enemies fighting against him, he is undoubtedly the greatest president America has ever had.
WT actual F?
I tried to find a video I saw. The guy was making the point that all cults die. He felt that there are 4 ways they end.
1) the death of the leader.
2) the people inside realize that the promises/prophecies the leader is trumpeting at them are not coming true.
3) divisions/infighting/power struggles within the cult. (The cult is broken from the inside.)
4) people leaving the cult, and speaking the truth about what is happening inside the cult to people outside the cult. (The cult is broken through outside means)
He stresses that this cult will end just as every cult before it has ended. I find this reassuring for no particular reason. I thought you might too.
(I cannot find the video. It is raining cats and dogs and the internet is slooooow tonight. When I find it, I will link it here.)
Kristi Noem got fired today.
https://www.newsweek.com/kristi-noem-mocked-with-jokes-and-memes-after-firing-11630643?utm_medium=Social&utm_source=Facebook&sfnsn=mo&fbclid=IwdGRjcAQXB39jbGNrBBcG8GV4dG4DYWVtAjExAHNydGMGYXBwX2lkDDM1MDY4NTUzMTcyOAABHvpGnIjqkbtX6j7Fw5fcf-UD6_b4EPoPv_2hR66nCL0HTPF4V-fpgH1_9UWN_aem_Fe_-47Yn9vG7PV4Br-bP1g
Her 'promotion' is a made up position.
I am trying to be cautiously optimistic about her replacement.
My God.
Hegseth:
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/mar/03/us-israel-iran-war-christian-rhetoric
Trump appears to be rotting before our very eyes:
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/03/02/us/politics/trump-rash-neck.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur&fbclid=IwdGRjcAQUZ1hleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZAwzNTA2ODU1MzE3MjgAAR4OzIbz3AnD7FOq4ZCyLHTJSFYrJVngUHnRN68CcyF6HysoJzAc-FFv6GTtcQ_aem_NUkYi-7cBz4hR5H7ablarA
Gas went up 20 cents a gallon over night.
I am a bit overwhelmed by the big picture lately. I am sure everyone is.
In local news:
I had a trip planned to spend time with my son and his family. The weekend before I left I got hit with quite an intestinal bug. I will spare you details, but I really, really was afraid that I would have to delay the trip.
I got over myself the day before I was supposed to leave.
I strongly advise any overwhelmed person to borrow some kids to rebalance your soul.
The youngest wanted me to come to her art show. I wanted to see it. She was so proud. She likes to give gifts. A painted rock last time. This time it was a plastic heart on a keychain she'd won at preschool. She brings these things to you in cupped hands as if she is presenting you a treasure, and the only response is to cup your own hands and to receive her offering with all due reverence. I immediately clipped that heart to my purse and assured her that I will love it always. I will, too. Her art show was grand and I loved watching her confidently striding through her preschool showing us around.
The oldest is 7 and we have our own little thing. Our fairy tea parties have become increasingly fancy. Her six fairies gather around a table set with fancy miniature china. They carry on polite fairy conversations as quiet fairy music plays in the background. We sit in the middle of her room and have the most wonderful imaginary adventures. The last evening, the fairies, all six of them, told me how sad they were that I was leaving. I told them that we would have a grand party when I returned and that I would have tiny fairy gifts for all of them. My grand daughter was thrilled at the thought of a party of this caliber. She lined them all up in a row to bid me farewell, and I promised to miss them all until we met once again. Then they went back on her window sill, all in their assigned place.
Such sweetness.
My son and his wife got two date nights in a row.
I hit their Amish store, which is huge. They had, of all things, cranberries. You know, I had to resort to canned cranberry sauce at Christmas. I could not find the bags of berries to save my soul. After Christmas, I usually buy them up when they are heavily discounted. The bags are tossed in the freezer and pulled out one at a time. I like cranberry relish on my toast. I like it stirred into my homemade yogurt. At 35 cents a bag, a dozen of those went into my cart as quick as a wink. Tim likes blueberries and they had pints of organic blueberries for 75 cents. I also love their cheeses. So many different kinds. 5 lbs of cheese made its way into the cart ss well. No meat this time. We really have so much venison, pork and poultry in the freezer. A good problem to have, to be sure.
My daughter in law showed me how to make tortillas. An old dog learned a new trick. We had a beautiful day. We got in a family hike. We tried to fly a kite. We went out for lunch. We did crafts.
It was a beautiful weekend, and I needed that.
Funny story: the morning I was supposed to leave. I could not find my car keys. My oldest granddaughter said 'I hope you don't find them and you can't go home!' It was so fervent that it really touched my heart. It also made me wonder if she had hid them. (She had not. They had fallen out of my coat pocket in their car. )
I am once again home.
It was too cloudy to see the lunar eclipse. We started the day with freezing rain.
My sister is coming over to make tortillas with me Sunday. We are going to have fajitas. One old dog reaching another old dog.
I found a cream colored lurex sweater to deconstruct to make my moon for my planned weaving.
I got a letter from gz, which was exciting.
I got the perfect haircut.
If it wasn't for the fact that we have a lunatic for president, life would be pretty okay.
I am behind in blogs. I will have to catch up.
How does he sleep ar night? It took everything I had to do my 3 miles at the gym, even with the coffee. I dragged myself there and dragged...
