The Boobs Return

You may remember Boobs Clea and her sister Boobs from last summer.  They are the Barbie doll sisters whose mother liked the name Boobs so much that she gave that name to both of her daughters.  Remember, too, that there's nothing disrespectful about the name in any way.  It's just a way that Mrs. Clea had of determining that her daughters would be athletic.  I know the meaning is somewhat cloudy but I think it has to do with my granddaughters' associating strong girls with large, well-endowed bodies along with a healthy dose of spirit.  Well, the Boobs girls are back and busy at being in charge of the entire Barbie population at my grandgirls household. (The population, by the way, is so large that the girls' mother doesn't really like to think or talk about it.)  When I asked about how these extraordinary dolls maintain control of the stylish, complicated clan, I was told that if one of the Barbies does something wrong, she gets tossed into the trash.  That's it.  Seems to be keeping everyone in the Bonus Room in line.

But maybe they've met their match. Way last summer I promised Alicia that I'd buy her an American Girl doll if she quit biting her fingernails.  I never thought she would and so I'd therefore be safe from the outrageous expenditure of this coveted doll.  I didn't factor in a sudden loss of many teeth that rendered the habit of nail biting impossible so the new doll arrived this morning.  She is truly a special doll and very well made but still not worth the bucks I put out.  She does, however, promise to have lots of doll power so maybe she'll put the Boobs girls in their places.  I do know for sure that the new doll will be coming to live at my house if Alicia grows enough nail biting teeth and starts up the practice again.  I hope a name has been chosen for her by then.  It's awkward to refer to Boobs Clea and the American Girl doll in the same sentence.  It just doesn't seem like a fit. She really needs a name soon.

Waterfalls to Trees

At long last the first draft of my new book is finished.  I learned more about writing from this experience than in all the years I taught it.  First:  Remember to be willing to change your subject and content at any second.  That's what you need to do if you start out writing about waterfalls and end up writing about trees.  Second:  Don't let the content depend on the seasons.  If you're planning a perfect fall day for the setting and need to do some field work, you'll find out that the perfect day will also land on the day when you need an emergency tooth extraction.  Third:  If kids are in any way involved in the writing process, you need to remember how many meltdowns a six year old can have in any given half day time period.  Fourth:  If using artwork by said kids, you need to factor in that they may not be in a creative mood at the same time as your deadline for art rolls around.  And (this one turned out to be most vital) if you're planning to use your own photos as part of the illustrations, be EXTREMELY sure that you know how to download those photos without accidentally erasing them.  If you do, you'll have to talk the kids into another long car trip, trace the steps of the previous discovery hike and pray that the new batch of photos can approximate the first attempt.  Oh.  And you'll need to bribe the children with ice cream cones.

Spook, Root Beer and One Tick

What a weekend!  After five months of battling snow, wind, heavy rain, wet feet and clothes, goose chases after phantom hoots that turned out to be a grouse and other challenges we finally, finally caught up with a Great Gray owl.  In fact, we found both a parent and its owlet.  We only had to travel about 260 miles east to a spot about half way in between Meecham and LaGrande to narrow the searching field.  We took the Spring Creek "road" to another numbered "road" which was little more than a dirt lane bouncing our way over dips, doodles and mud holes to find the five trees out of the thousands and thousands that we'd passed in the Wallowa Whitman National Forest.  We didn't see them the first day and my legs were wobbly the second day from climbing up and down a shallow draw several times over trying to find  all the nesting platforms.  We found two derelict ones-two at the Spook nesting site and one in tact at the Root Beer site-but couldn't find hide nor feather of the one at Spook that was supposedly housing a baby. We retreated to  LaGrande where I found a tick on Bobbie's head which she smashed on the table with her knife and then brushed it on the floor at Mt. Emily's Ale House.  The server looked mildly on as all I said was, "Tick."  She seemed to get it right away.  Then I got to battle with an annoying case of diarrhea the next morning which made me fast track it behind a few of those thousands of trees I mentioned above.  Nothing like the feel of mountain air on one's nether regions while maintaining a thigh shaking pose in the undergrowth.  All trials were soon forgotten as we made one more trip down the draw where Bobbie spotted the baby within 30 minutes.  Look carefully in the middle of the lower photo and you can see him.  Within seconds she spotted the parent owl a few trees to the left which you can see if you look in the middle of the upper photo.  We did silent high fives and screamed without making sounds for awhile and then settled in to watch the birds for about an hour and a half.  We heard the parent make a few comforting hoots to her baby and even found owl feathers.  We sneaked in as close as we dared so as not disturb them.  They were amazingly tolerant allowing us to set up photo bases in their area.  We did just about everything except climb the trees and pet them.  What magnificent creatures!  We paid them a respectful farewell and spent the rest of the day seeing other wildlife and stunning landscapes in the Todd Marsh Wildlife Refuge.  What a way to spend a vacation weekend.

Trying To Sleep

Sleeping presents a whole new perspective for those of us who are aging.  First, there's the element of partner disturbance.  Even in the best of relationships, someone is bound to awaken the other with snoring, weird dream restlessness, discomfort, frozen limb rescuing,  temperature sensitivity and even more oddball aspects of sleep behavior that prevent us from sleeping  like unconscious walruses the way we did when we were thirty.  We learn what sleep apnea is and take on the alien appearance of an ET sleeper with the addition of the C-PAP machine.  Don't assume this is an easy process.  A number of trips to the doctor and an interesting "sleep study" at the hospital are required before acquiring this impossibly ugly piece of night gear.  The adjustment period is long and fraught with anxiety and comments such as, "Adjust your mask!  You're making funny breathing sounds!"  Well, no kidding.   With the advent of the C-PAP, we have moved beyond the commuting bed stage and into the era of thinking about getting a new bed. The trip to Maui and the blissful nights of sleeping in the king size bed next to the soothing sound of the sea cinch it for us.  We'll get a new bed.  So we do.  I look forward to sleeping on the new extra firm mattress between new sheets and under a new lightweight summer comforter.  I won't bring up the number of trips it took to purchase just the right kind of bedding for this new bed other than to say that Pat is definitely not a satin sheet sort of guy.  And weren't we surprised when the new bed is way too hard (like a concrete slab, according to Pat).  So we make a "comfort exchange."  I am more than a little anxious about how we'll survive our first night on our new "plush firm" mattress. I hope this one does the trick because I've run out of ideas about sleeping well for older folks.

"Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea"

The title describes exactly what I did this past week in Maui.  Everything ever said about Hawaii is absolutely true no matter how many times we visit.  From the bottom of the ocean at Ulua Beach where I swam with clouds of colorful fish to the top of Haleakala where I could almost see to Japan, I had vivid experience after vivid experience.  The water in the ocean was warm; the air on top of the mountain was cold and literally breathtaking.  The flowers that studded the edges of the paths at the Kula Botanical Gardens were like tropical jewels.  The small upcountry town of Makawao had some  intriguing art work and a cool tropical breeze.  Hilo Hattie and the ABC store had fun stuff to buy for souvies and Safeway was just a few blocks away where we bought stuff for our meals and enjoy the spectacular view from our lanai at the same time.  The little historical church and the lava beach at LaPerouse Beach at the south end of the island were two very vivid spiritual experiences.  Maui is indeed a place of vivid experiences.  But my favorite and most unforgettable time in Maui was bobbing in the ocean with the tropical sun above and the fish, turtles and coral below.  It's one of the times when I feel most one with the universe.

Back to the Owls

Last Saturday found us chugging up the familiar route to Cieslak Meadow at Silver Falls State Park. It was a definite spring day with soft air, warm sunlight and a forest alive with the sound of birds and buzzing things. We heard the Great Gray muffled hoots as soon as we got out out the car. We had a plan. We headed down Silver Ridge Road to the spot across from where we heard the call last time we were here. Not far from where someone had abandoned an old craft table alongside the road ("Why would someone want to do that," Bobbie asked. "I dunno. I like to think it just maybe fell off the back of the truck," I supposed) the darn bird shut itself up and we stood like a couple of listening ninnies for a long time before we decided to "track" it on the other side of the pond so we hoofed it back to the car and then headed down the barely discernible tire-tracked lane and made the approach from the other side of the pond. Again we heard the call. It fell silent but started up again not much longer so Bobbie took off down slope while I stayed with the dog. It was pleasant sitting in the woods with nothing to do but think and listen. I could sometimes see Bobbie twisting and turning between the trees and she explained later that the owl was projecting its voice first this way and then that way. She was sure it was just trying to throw her off the track. So we definitely heard it but since we didn't sight it, we'll call it an "encounter" with a Great Gray.

Then Sunday we were up close and personal with our sure thing sighting of a Barn Owl at long last. Bobbie had a connection with an Audubon member who knows Farmer Ron way out south of Salem close to the Ankeny Reserve. He lives on a most tidy little 14 acre farm with his wife, horses, goats, pigeons, and garden along with a nesting box full of baby Barneys-four live ones and their gorgeous mother. He lets visitors look at them via a monitor that projects what the web cam stashed in the nest shows. He lets special guests climb up the tall sturdy ladder and peek through the crack in the sliding door of the box. I did and then carefully slid it open to see Mama Owl giving me a dirty mistrustful look before she took off leaving me to admire the babies. They amazed me with their bobbling little heads and little hop hops around the nest. What a privilege it was! And how very different this controlled sighting environment was from the wilds of the day before! Another notch on our owl belts, nonetheless.

(Not About Owls

There's lots of talky-talk about college these days. Statistics are published, people are interviewed and conclusions are broadcast. It seems that not as many people are going to college and other people are worrying about this. Guess what: this is not the time, this is not the economy and this is not a job market that supports a four year degree goal. The job market is so limited that the day of just having a degree to guarantee employment is as outdated as reel to reel film projectors in the classroom. A student can do well with a two year degree, good networking and plenty of patience and determination when it comes to landing a decent job. I don't even recommend that my own grandgirls plan for college. I can't believe I said that but it's true. The most that can be said about going to college these days is that kids are allowed four more years to grow up in an academic setting that has little to do with the real world. Sorry. I'll get back to owl writing maybe even later today.)