You know you're a cop spouse when . . .

You know you're a cop spouse when . . .

You don't know what day of the week it is because you quit working some time ago and his weekend is Mon-Tues-Wed.
You don't even PLAN on having him home for dinner because after 27 years, it's hit and miss.
You eat cereal for supper when he's on duty because its easier than fixing something for just one person.
You celebrate Valentines Day by going out riding with him.
You celebrate 4th of July, anniversaries, birthdays and most other special days by going out riding with him.
You know all the 10 codes.
You know what a deuce is.
You don't have arguments; you get into a 415.
You love the sound of Velcro in the morning.
You have a list of restaurants in your head where you can't eat.
You have to run in and pick up the take out because "I think I arrested someone from there last night."
When you go to the escrow office to sign the paperwork for your new house, he hesitates at the front door and checks his feet for blood because he doesn't want to track blood into the office.
He knows the inside of many of the houses in your little town.
You can build your own fence and fix all sorts of things around the house.
He goes to the grocery store and comes home much later than he should have because he saw someone who had a warrant/was stealing booze.
You say your last name and people say they know your husband.
Little kids tell your kids that their daddy knows your daddy . . . And it's not in a good way.
You've got a black and white in your driveway and everyone in town knows where you live.
Your kids end up with a wicked, cynical sense of humor "just like your dad."
You're used to him not disbelieving, but not 100% believing everything you tell him.
You've been told, "everybody lies.”
You don't say "ok" you say 10-4.
You're en route when you're on your way.
You don't say “what" you say 10-9.
You've had arguments about all the OT he's worked and HASN'T put in for.
You miss doing holidays with extended out of town family.
Your family, some of them, still don't understand why "he can't just take the time off."
You know what to look for in a drunk driver.
Your own investigative skills are pretty good and you can tell when your kids are lying.
When your daughter's not home yet and it's three in the morn, you don't hesitate to call the SO and they help you locate her "watching stars" up in the mountains with a boy (and she really is watching stars).
You know just how much you can speed over the limit without inviting a traffic stop.
You refer to getting pulled over as a traffic stop.You're told not to touch his clothes because of something icky on them.
You get poison oak off your husbands uniform because he was "down in the creek looking for bums."
You know what methyl-ethyl-bad-shit is.
You don't call to find out why he's late until its been a couple of hours past when you expected him because he’s rarely home right after work.
You know what choir practice is.
Your husband got to meet Blankie from The Brave  Little Toaster . . . professionally . . . and not in a good way.
Steven Segal looks up to your husband.
Your husband comes home smelling like weed.
Nothing seems to get his adrenaline going and it drives you crazy because you maybe have a few ADD tendencies and all sorts of things are exciting and don't you just see how cool this is?
You listen to the scanner for company and because its comforting to hear his voice.
You've had death threats, kids have had threats, he's had threats. Everyone's been threatened but, thank God, no bad guys have been stupid enough to follow through on those threats.
You're used to tiptoeing around very quietly.
You've had turkey dinner at the office on Thanksgiving.
You've had Christmas dinner at the office.
Your 5 year old refers to her daddy as an owl.
Your sweetheart brings home wild daffodils he picked at the cemetery overnight.
He takes cigar breaks at the cemetery in the middle of the night.
You've cried like your heart is breaking because one of the local deputies was killed in a shoot out.
You have to worry about shoot outs.
You never ever EVER want to see a cop car that isn’t his show up at the house, with another vehicle you may not know, when he's on duty.
You run down to pick the kids up from school or go to the store and he calls you to tell you there's a gun under the seat and just leave it there and don't forget to lock the car.
You have dark curtains around your four poster bed.
You screen all your phone calls.
You know what a blue canary is.
You have to move his belt and his vest from your chair so you can sit down.
There's all sorts of reading material laying around the house, from evidence handling to legal updates to case law to the new computer system.
He gets phone calls at home at all hours when the computer at work crashes, when someone needs to know how to write a search warrant, when someone has a question about whether or not they can search a car, when someone has a question about how to write a report and on and on.
You discuss training scenarios.
You go to wild parties in your younger days, family bbqs in your mid years, and then feel forgotten when you're older because all the young kids are out having their wild parties and family bbqs and they either don't think about inviting you or just figure you know you're welcome, but you don't really realize that because in your day people called to invite you over.
Your granddaughter tells you that Grandpa's job is more important than yours because "he keeps us safe."
You have a drawer with Jim Brown leather equipment, keepers, bullets, batteries, extra flashlights, and a myriad of other things all flung together.
You know what Jim Brown leather is.
You don't have a "honey do" list, you have a "honey, look what I did" list.
It's not yes or no, it's affirmative or negative.
You refer to the PD as your second home.
Your kids run around and play at the PD and don't think that's out of the ordinary.
You’ve always got Tums and baby powder on hand.
He’s had more injuries than a professional football player.
You know more about the meniscus and supraspinatus than you care to.
He has more naked stories than a porn star.
There are photos of evidence, car accidents and random people on his cell phone.
You both joke about you dragging him out to his car if he keels over at home.
You have Tuesday daytime sex.
You know what a donnybrook is.
You know what he's talking about when he says he got a 10851 when he was on his way to C7 and the guy was 11-5 and 148'd him so he went 1015 and sent him south.
He drives past the fire chief/volunteer firefighters/on duty cops/deputies while he's off duty and they flip each other off.
You know the phonetic alphabet.
You can sing the phonetic alphabet to the tune of the regular alphabet song without stumbling.You’re paranoid to let your kids/grandkids out of a fenced yard on their own because you know what can happen, even in sleepy little towns.
You don't like cop/donut comments because your husband works his ass off.
You end up a changed person just as much as he does, though not in the same ways.
You can say that your husband has made a change in the world and you can point out people he's saved, in one way or another, and you're so proud of him and you realize you'd do it all over again, despite all the negatives, because that's just who he is.


There's more, but it's late and my pillow is calling me.  

Law Enforcement Life - IT'S NOT JUST A JOB

I know, I know.  I haven't been on here in AGES.  But here I am now.  A new cop wife on the National Police Wives Association page asked a question that I responded to.  I thought it'd be nice to post my answer here.  I'm not sure how it'll work with formatting, but I'll give it a try.

Her question:

"My husband just started with the sheriff's department and just found out he is going to be working nights. I'm really struggling with it! I have a 2 year old and also due on Aug 4th. I support my hubby and don't want him to see me secretly freaking out that he won't be home @ night and I'm a little nervous that I can't do it all! How did other Leo wives deal with this? Thanks."

My response:

Our small department works 12's and my husband prefers nights as it's when you can get the most done as far as being a crimefighter. After 30 years it's become our normal way of life. 

Someone mentioned reading I Love A Cop by Dr. Ellen Kirschman. It's an excellent book and I highly recommend it. In fact, we recommend it to all of the new cops' families (this includes their parents). I'd also suggest you read Emotional Survival by Dr. Kevin Gilmartin. He's a retired cop and everything he says WILL apply to you and your family. Get to know the other wives in the department and get to know your neighbors. If you need someone in a hurry, and your husband can't get away, they'll come in handy. 

When our kids were little, and not yet in school, we adjusted their schedule to match their daddy's, without getting it too out of whack. Depending on what kind of shift he works (10's, 12's, 8's), you might be able to do that. We let our girls stay up later so they could spend time with him and then we just slept in later. 

You get used to being a married single parent and you just do it because it's what you need to do. Your feelings are going to be hurt many times when he'll be unable to be around for Mother's Day, Easter, Christmas, etc. Get yourself a good support system so you don't end up being alone and lonely on important days. That'll just make you miss him more and make you resentful. We ended up in a small town, 4 hours away from any family members. Getting to know the other families in the department was so important. 

Remember that he really is married to you, not to his job, and that getting home to you and your family is his number one priority, even if it doesn't always feel like it. This is his calling and what you're doing is your calling. BOTH of you are now in this big wide world of "public service." It definitely won't always be appreciated by the outside world, but then again GET YOURSELF A GOOD SUPPORT SYSTEM OF OTHER LEO FAMILIES. Have I said that enough times?  Good luck. I wouldn't trade these last 30 years for anything. 

And . . . no heavy conversations, arguments, fights, etc. before he leaves for work. You don't want a distracted/ticked off cop on the street. It's dangerous for him, dangerous for his partners and dangerous for whomever he needs to protect. 

One more thing . . .  . . .When you're a cop, it's not just for the time you're at work. Go to the grocery store and run into someone with a warrant and he'll end up doing his work on "family" time. He'll get called out when you have plans. He'll have court on his time off. He'll see things happen off duty and he'll need to address them. It's not a job. It's a life. You'll get used to it.

And (one more thing . . . really), if it's allowed in your department, go on ride-alongs when you can. You need to see what your husband does. It will give you a very good understanding of what he has to put up with. It's that whole 8 hours of boredom followed by 30 seconds of sheer terror thing. Plus you'd be amazed at the number of (how to put this nicely) stupid people they have to deal with.

To be continued . . .

Part 2

Everyone lies.
Expecting the worst.
He will change.
He will see bad things.
Keep the house relatively nice and non-chaotic.  His refuge.
Some things he won't tell you.
Some things he can't tell you.
You'll learn how to do things you never thought you'd do and you'll have to do things on your own.

Carbon Monoxide, Katie and Emma and How We Dodged A Bullet

or  How God Was Watching Over Us And We Didn't Lose Loved Ones

A reminder for me to write this . . . another "stay tuned."  This one's important.

So tired

I'm watching the boys for a week while Cherlyn's out of town. Tonight's the third night and I'm already exhausted. Part of that is because I'm sick . . . well, I'm sure most of it is because I'm sick. Much is happening, but, frankly, I can't think of anything to write. I'll feel a bit more inspired later. Might be after the new year. I love new beginnings, a clean slate.

I have photos to post as well. Later. Sleep now. Just some sleep.

I spent the day cleaning up the living room and thought I'd post a few vignettes. Nothing fancy, here they are.

68 Inches

I woke up with a hint of a spark in my soul and that's very, very good.  What woke me up was something I am completely unaccustomed to.  It was sunlight coming through a window directly into my eyes.  It was glorious.  I couldn't figure out why everything seemed so dull, so dreary, so full of drudgery.  Now I know.  And now I know that it's coming to an end.  I feel as though I'm emerging from a fog.  A long, wet, dreary, grey fog.

We've had 68 inches of rain since mid-October.  SIXTY-EIGHT!  And now, all of a sudden, we have sunshine and temperatures in the 80's. It's glorious.  It's warm.  It's sunny.  The sky is blue.  You can SEE the sky!  It's still soggy around here but at least we're finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  We still have rainy days ahead, but now they'll be interspersed with sunny days and warmer temperatures.  Did I mention we've had 68 inches of rain since mid-October?  :o)

Not only have we had a lot of rain this year, we had about 5 or 6 inches of snow in about 5 hours just a week or two ago.  Phenomenal.  Really.  Bizarre and phenomenal.

But that's ok, because springtime appears to finally be upon us.  The spark has been re-ignited.

   

New!

I love it! I love it! I love it! I redesigned my blog, updating the look and the title. I considered moving over to Wordpress, but I just don't have the quantity of posts and/or followers to make that move worthwhile. Blogger is really simple and simplicity is good.

I'm going to include some new categories starting now. I have many (less than 100, more than 20) old antique books, some with beautiful artwork therein (including a set of really nice 1924 encyclopaedias and a world atlas from 1902!). I've checked the copyright and they are now in the public domain. I also have a bunch (maybe 100) of postcards from the early 1900's, some with beautiful graphics. My intention is to scan these, as I have time (ha!), and make them available.

The new title has to do with a moniker given to me by older family members when I was a wee lass. (I love that term . . . laddie, too.) I was happy, cheerful, sunshiney, etc. Perhaps this will be a reminder to me to show that countenance more often. More childlike faith, love, cheerfulness and just plain gladness is in short supply these days. The graphic within the header is a placecard that my Dad made for one of our family dinners. He did one for each of us. I don't remember what the others' said, but I kept mine because it means a lot to me.

I would also like to include book reviews as a category, but I anticipate those not showing up as often. We'll see.

There will be a few more design changes as I have time, but I at least wanted to get this much up right now.

Until later!

Tuscan Room to Pink Room

Emma wants her room painted pink, "Just like Mama's." This creates a little bit of a conundrum because that was the "atelier" (studio/workshop) I set up for myself before they moved back home. I did a very cool Tuscan sort of paint treatment on two of the walls. Here's a serendipitous moment in that room that shows the wall color fairly well. I used orange, yellow, brown, and a coral-ly sort of red. I LOVE it so that means I'm reluctant to paint over it. It'd be another matter if we were getting ready to sell the house and move, but we're not.

So I think I've come up with a Plan B . . . and maybe even a C and D. My first thought was to get some pink sheets and put them up on the walls I don't want painted. My next thought was wrapping paper. Now I'm thinking maybe even pink contact paper. I don't want it to look cheesy and I don't want it to fall down tomorrow. Everything will have to be pinned or stapled or whatever. Wrapping paper still sounds pretty. I think Emma and I will go to Dollar Tree after I pick her up from school.

What else does she want? Flowers and faeries. That's MUCH easier. I just happen to have both in the form of Wallies.

Oops. Look at the time. Time to go get her!

Lent

Great Lent in the Orthodox Church started on the 15th. I decided to give up meat (everything except fish) for Lent. In the past I've done things like chocolate or sweets and that's not really a stretch. It's supposed to be a sacrifice, right? It's something I'll miss and when I think about it, I'll think of Jesus and the sacrifice He made. I'm sure I'll be thinking of it a lot because I'm finding that I need to be pretty creative when it comes to feeding myself. This morning I made myself a mango, strawberry, raspberry, orange, blueberry and pomegranate smoothie. I had the rest of the smoothie and scrambled eggs with swiss cheese, spinach and tomatoes for lunch (very late lunch) and wasn't even hungry at dinner time. I was still full from the eggs. Tomorrow I'm going to try the Chocolate Mousse that was on Dr. Oz's show.

"I will lift up my eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my strength."

From the Orthodox Church of America website:

"Let us fast with a fast pleasing to the Lord. This is the true fast: the casting off of evil, the bridling of the tongue, the cutting off of anger, the cessation of lusts, evil talking, lies and cursing. The stopping of these is the fast true and acceptable. (Monday Vespers of the First Week)"

So THAT'S what I need to be fasting from. That's a lot harder than just denying yourself food or other stuff. I'm going to have to write that out and put it where I can see it all the time.

Adjusting to life in a small town

We've had an influx of new wives to the PD this year (coincides with new officers . . . go figure) and they've been talking about how hard it is moving away from home. That's made me think about how it was for us so I thought I'd jot down some thoughts. I have to go back and try to put myself in my shoes of 23 years ago and try to really remember how things were "once upon a time."

Moving from the spread-out-everything-within-just-a-few-minutes San Jose/Santa Clara Valley to what-do-you-mean-the-Country-Mall-isn't-a-real-mall town of Willits was a bit of a culture shock. Did I say a bit? Make that HUGE culture shock. I remember the first time I went to Safeway after moving here. I was standing in line to check out and everything was moving so slowly! "Good Lord, can't these people move any faster? What in the world do they have to talk about? For that matter, WHY are they standing there gabbing. Chop! Chop! Get a move on! I've got things to do, people to see, places to go!" This was all going on in my head of course. Well, I didn't really have any of those things to do. I was just still in the SJ mindset. In SJ, checkers actually had little signs posted at their registers telling them to move people through quickly and to NOT TALK. Wow. What a difference from here. Here, I discovered, people all knew each other. Going to the grocery store was a social event. You ALWAYS ran into someone you knew so you'd stop and chat and catch up on the local news and gossip. You also knew all the checkers because you'd been going to the grocery store all your life and you probably went to school with them or their kids and maybe you even used to go over and play there or whatever. So, as I discovered, people chatted in line. They weren't in a hurry (generally speaking) and they weren't rude. It's hard to be rude to someone who you know you're going to have to deal with every single time you go to that store. It's not like there are a lot of options to shop somewhere else. So that was my first experience with the differences between my old home and my new home. My first impression was that they were so SLOW here. Turns out that's not a bad thing to be.

Lest I get sidetracked, let me interject something here. I wasn't only adjusting to an entirely new and different place to live. I was adjusting to a new lifestyle. I'd spent the entire prior year working full-time while Mike stayed home with the girls. I worked in a medium-sized semiconductor company. I was one of the two HR Reps. Before getting married, I worked in HR and was fortunate in that I got to do college recruiting. I went to various colleges on the west coast and got to interview engineering soon-to-be-grads to see if they'd be a good fit for our company. This was back in the day of startup computer companies. You know when the company would provide KEGS on Friday afternoons AT WORK. Ok, so I got sidetracked. Where was I? Oh yeah. Big changes. Back to grocery shopping.

So how long did it take for me to adjust to that one thing? I'm not really sure. I think it was a couple of months. I got to know the checkers so eventually I was able to join in on the chatting.

That first year or so I probably went home once a month or so. Maybe even more because I remember going home when Mike was working. I also probably did that for longer than the first year. My sister's kids are the same ages as mine, within just a few months of each other so we used to do a lot of things together. I missed that and I missed all of them. I didn't have as many friends down there as most of them had moved away, but most of my family was there. At that time it was a four and a half hour drive. There've been a lot of changes to 101 between then and now. Now it only takes three hours and fifteen minutes.

What a culture shock it was coming here. At that time, all there was in Ukiah was a Penney's and a ratty old K-Mart. No Mervyn's, no Kohl's, no Home Depot, Walgreen's or WalMart. There wasn't even a Ray's. It was a big empty shell that had been started but never finished. I think the Rite-Aid was a Thrifty's back then. I went from having everything I needed just minutes away to those things I THOUGHT I needed now hours away. To my utter disbelief, the nearest mall was an hour and a half away. And, hello! The Country Mall? (Currently JD Redhouse) That wasn't a mall! It was an old building with a few little shops and a restaurant in it. I thought I'd die. Not really, but . . . no mall? Really?

I love my old home, but the San Jose I love is the San Jose of the 60's, 70's and early 80's. After we left in 1987, it really started changing. In our own little middle-class neighborhood, houses were torn down and big mansions built. Whole cities were completely changed so that now I don't recognize them. I lived there for nearly 30 years and now when I go down there, because so much of it has changed so much that it's unrecognizable, I lose my bearings and get lost! Thankfully, some of it hasn't changed at all so, in parts of it, I can still feel like it's my old hometown. Now there's only one sister left in San Jose. That means that I only go down there a few times a year. I wish it was more, though, because I miss her and I still miss "home."

You know, when we decided to move up here, we intended to stay in Willits for two years or so. In April we'll have been here 23 years. This town kind of grows on you. :o) You get invested in it and in peoples' lives. It takes a while, though. Before we moved up here, we had one weekend to find a place to live. Our first home was in a dark, very shaded house off of Birch. (Thank you Jack Tuttle and Jim Miller for showing up to help us unload our very first day here!) It was down a hill and in a little valley. It was great for walking down to Summer Lake . . . when there was a Summer Lake . . . and for taking walks and hiking on the logging trails. That part of it was great. But we absolutely froze during the wintertime. We weren't at all prepared. Thankfully, we were able to find someplace else after a couple of years. That was a couple of years too long, though.

Other than people at the PD, I started meeting people through my kids. It took about a year, though, because they were only 2 and 3 1/2 when we moved here. They didn't go to preschool, but when Cherlyn started kindergarten, I started making non-PD friends. It was kind of difficult, too, because when we came here, EVERYONE else had either been here for years or they'd lived here forever. There wasn't anyone else with little kids. In fact, the next oldest ones were in high school. The PD definitely wasn't as much of a family place as it is now. I didn't really know the other wives very well. (In fact, some of them had nothing at all to do with the PD.)

That first year was a difficult one. Mike started in April and in August, he and two of the other guys went to a call where a man was refusing to give his son back after visitation. It was in the Van Hotel (back when those were apartments). They got there and the guy had a gun. Turned out one of the guys had to shoot him with, Mike and the other guy as his backup. It was a bit stressful for me. I think what I remember about it the most was Mike coming home from work and us getting the girls up from bed and then going over to one of the guys' house for a bit of a debriefing. The other two guys and their wives were sent to a shrink for a formal debriefing but for some reason they didn't send the rookie and his wife. Go figure. We went to Disneyland on vacation a week or two after it happened and I remember a comment being made about that being our debriefing. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I could've used it.

Mike was in his dream job and he threw himself at it completely. So much so that the rest of us didn't receive as much attention. In fact, after about a year and a half we had to have a "come to Jesus meeting." Things were not good, but they got better after that. For the wives/girlfriends new to this line of work, I would heartily suggest you go on as many ride-alongs as your husband/boyfriend will agree to. I know it's hard with little ones. I rarely went on any because we never had anyone to watch the girls. I always felt left out because there were a couple of other wives who were able to do it whenever they wanted and I couldn't. It's important, though, so that you know what's going on at work. What's the saying? Hours of boredom following by 30 seconds of sheer terror? That's close enough. That's fodder for another note, though.

Back in the older days of the PD, we used to have lots of socializing, plenty of barbecues. I miss those a lot. I think the last time we did anything was at Heiken's house before someone left . . . Tim Snider? No, wait. Jeff did the pumpkin carving at his house. Ok. Never mind what I said. But we need to do more. :o)

I said a ways back that we only intended to stay here for a couple of years and then move on. We actually almost did move on four or five years ago. Mike applied at Sonoma SO and actually got to the background point. Apparently they really wanted him because they kept bugging him and bugging him to do it, but he didn't. He kept putting it off. I finally asked him if he thought maybe there was a reason for that, that maybe he really didn't want to leave. Part of him did (want to leave), but a bigger part of him felt like he needed to stay, that there was still more to do here. So we stayed. Our retirement won't be as good as if we'd left (like probably by half!), but we both think we did the right thing by staying. Others left at the same time for their own reasons . . . all of them good and valid, but we stayed for our own reasons . . . also good and valid. You have to do what's best for your own family, for what feels right for you.

So to the newer people I would say, welcome to your new home. Get to know people. Get involved. Learn about your husband's job. Stay focused on the two of you . . . let him know that there is life outside his job and he needs to remember that. Still visit your old home. Give yourself time to move your heart from there to here. It takes a while, but it will get better. Oh. And Spring, Summer and Fall are beautiful here! They make up for wet, cold, grey, depressing winters. Wait until you see the lilacs and daffodils in the Spring.

Write, write, write #2

Hmmm. I was looking over last years' posts. There aren't many of them so it took probably less than a minute. It was a full year in the 'brain' sense. My mind was full. A lot happened.

My preparation for the empty nest was very short-lived as Katie and Emma returned home in January. Why'd they return home? Well, turns out the reason Katie was having headaches, and had been having them since Thanksgiving, 2 1/2 months prior, was because she had three different appliances (one serious, one minimal and one within normal ranges) leaking carbon monoxide into their apartment since they moved in.

So, while dealing with Dave's imminent departure from this world, I was also dealing with much, much research on the subject of CO exposure. In fact, the day that I determined that CO was the cause of her headaches, I was watching Dave and Cheryl's grandson so that they could attend one of the many worker's comp hearings. When they picked up Kylar, Dave was the one hugging me and comforting me. Here he was, just about a month before he left this world, fresh from a hearing that he knew would be his last, and he was comforting me. That was Dave.

The CO stuff hit me initially with a wave of "what could have been." It's mellowed out so that that part of it rarely hits me any more. Now we're just thankful that Katie and Emma weren't injured any more than they were. Katie's recovery has been very slow. She still has headaches. Her memory is still VERY faulty. On the good side, though, her personality has started to come back to the Katie we had before she moved into the apartment. When she's testy (bitchy) now, it's usually because of some external stimuli and not because her brain is injured. She still forgets words and has some retrieval problems, but she's slowly improving. I'm very thankful God was watching over the girls and sent me the epiphany. Of course it was from Him. That's what an epiphany is.

So the empty nest didn't exactly happen. (Especially since India also came home off and on through the year.) I did have that extra room for a while because Emma was in with Katie the first few months they were back. That was silly, though, when I look back on it. What was I thinking? Why didn't we just put Emma in the other room? Selfish me. I know Katie doesn't want to be here any longer than they have to. They're welcome as long as they need to be here. I'm just glad we're able to help out. (I'm also very happy we didn't have to deal with any PTSD.) Time will tell.

I'm thankful Cherlyn, Rob, Bobby and Michael were here last Christmas. I'm glad they were here in October. I wish they were going to be here NOW! Better yet, I wish we were all there!!

Mike asked me last night, "How can you be homesick for a place you've never been?" Or something along those lines. He was looking at Cherlyn's pictures of England I think. It's strange how we both felt like we'd 'come home' when we were there. I miss over there more than I've ever missed Hawaii after we've come back from vacationing there. Can't we just get a little vacation cottage in a quiet English village and live there a few months out of the year??? Anyone want to give us a million dollars? :o) BIG smiles.

I'm not sure what the Christmas day plans are. I wish Pat and Pete were going to be around and that we'd thought to get the 26th off. He has the 24th off but I told him it's ok for him to not take vacation that day and see if someone else wants it. He's off at 6 anyway so it's not like we need it and maybe it will help someone else. India will be home Christmas Eve night and that'll be good. I still need to figure out what to make for dinner. Hmmm. Much to do still.

Time to get going and get some stuff done around here.

Write, write, write

There are probably 10 boxes of all things Christmas sitting next to the door waiting for me to carry them downstairs. From there, I will drag them into the bathroom, pull down the "hidden" ladder and push and pull them into the "attic" (which is actually a large crawl space we made when we lowered the ceiling in there). Who needs 12 foot ceilings in a bathroom when there are things to be stored? Maybe tomorrow, after Mike wakes up and gets off to work, I'll put them all away. And maybe I'll wait until Sunday when his days off start.

It's been quiet, sometimes too quiet, with Cherlyn, Rob, Bobby and Michael gone, but I've been fortunate enough to be able to iChat with them while they're in South Carolina. Before you know it, they'll be off this continent and starting life in their new home in England. I'm envious!

I always love the beginning of a new year. It's a time to wipe the slate clean and start anew. This is the year of learning to love the empty nest. Katie and Emma moved out in August and India followed in December. There are two extra bedrooms now that I get to fix up. That will probably also be on the list for tomorrow.

And speaking of tomorrow . . . it's nearly here so I need to get to bed. More tomorrow. I'd like to see if I can re-design this wonderful "vehicle of writing." I also want to go through The Shack some more and maybe write some about that. There's also more furniture to be rearranged. And I don't want to forget the books I've just read in the past month. Life is good.

Be Ye Joyful

Time To Say Goodbye

The pea gravel gave way noisily, slipping and sliding beneath their feet, sounding, to her, like the snap crackle pop of a mouthful of fresh Rice Krispies. Her husband was just behind her as she strode to the front sidewalk, stepping carefully over the curb that her Grandma had once slipped on, past the painted block of wood one of the kids from the old youth group had made for her dad and to the front door, the front door of her childhood, youth and growing up years. "We're here!" she announced, as she opened the door and stepped into the warm front room. Their living room had changed little over the course of the almost 40 years her family had lived in the little house. Sure, the carpet had been upgraded and the furniture was different, but the basic living room was just as it had been when she had first set foot inside this house as a three year old toddler. The knotty pine paneling gave off a cabin-like feel to the little house, while the entire front wall of floor to ceiling picture windows provided the necessary light; a light, right now, that was a soft, late afternoon glow. To the right was the hallway that led to the den, Mom and Dad's bedroom and the bathroom. To the left was the threshold to the dining room, the kitchen and the back bedroom, which was now known as 'Mom's Room.' It didn't matter if she'd last visited 2 weeks ago or a year ago. It was always the same. One step inside this house and she was Home. "Hello? Mom?"

"I'm in here!" a voice called out from the back of the house. Ah, that would be Mom, back in the kitchen cooking something, or maybe in her room, working on projects. They went in and found her sorting out things in her room. "How was the drive?" Mom asked after she'd given both of them a big hug and, I might add, told the husband how handsome he looked and asked how things were at work and if he had enough time off so that he was able to relax at home.

"Good," she said, "only took three and a half hours." This was a special trip that was going to be beneficial in a couple of ways. They were down to attend the anniversary party that was going to be held that night for his parents. Twenty-five years looked very good on them. She was pleased that he'd been able to get the time off work to go. Vacations, even very short ones, were sometimes difficult to manage with his work schedule. There was another reason for this trip and she was going to take care of that first. "I'll be right back. I need to go see Jen." Her husband looked at her with an obvious "I don't know what you are doing or where you are going" look and she walked out the door.

Across the street, in Mr. Hannebaum's old house, lived a young couple. Well, they'd been young when they moved in with their toddler daughter, but she supposed one would not necessarily call them a "young couple" any more. The toddler was now in her early twenties and it was she who was now the object of the visit. She walked across the street and up the driveway to the house hoping that the young woman had been able to help her. It didn't appear that anyone was home and that was somewhat concerning, but she continued on. An envelope was taped to the front door. She opened it up and inside was a note and a very small amount of dried green plant. She opened the note and read, "For a friend in need."

She had never dreamed that she would be going to the neighbor's to buy pot. More than that, though, she had never dreamed that she would need to do that in order to help her Aunt Madelynne. She hadn't known Aunt Madelynne to ever be sick. This was the woman who went white-water rafting for her most recent birthday, her 75th! The closest she ever came to being sick, she remembered, was when Aunt Madelynne was attacked by a dog on one of her morning runs when she was almost sixty years old! This was much worse, though. For six months now they had been getting used to the news. Stage 4 cancer and, the doctors were guessing, she had a year or two left on this earth. Placing the envelope in her pocket, she crossed the street back to the house. "I'm going on over there now. I'll be back in just a bit."

Ten short minutes later she was strolling along the walkways to the little apartment Aunt Madelynne had called home for the last couple of years. She was thinking back over the last few months worth of visits. She'd been trying to get down every couple of weeks or so. Her boss, the principal of the middle school where she worked, had even given her an indefinite leave of absence so that she had time to be with her aunt. Because of that, she was able to visit more often, most often driving down in the mornings, staying for a couple of hours, and then driving back home. It made for a long day but it was worth it.

The last visit, a week or two earlier, had been particularly poignant. "You keep that, Mel. You're helping me go through this stuff and you can have that. I don't think anyone will care. I used to wear it to football games." They were going through her big trunk and Aunt Madelynne was telling her what she wanted done with all of her most important possessions. Or, at least, oldest possessions. "Oh, this is a purse I used to take with me to dances. You can have it, too." She handed over a small needlepoint clutch and it was received graciously. They went through the trunk, item by item, making a list of everything inside and putting names next to each item. "Now, this is done. I have some other boxes in the closet I'd like to go through, too. Is that ok?" Of course it was. It had been a good visit. They'd finished going through everything important enough to write down and felt a sense of accomplishment. Aunt Madelynne had even given her all of her get well cards and asked her to put them in an album for her so she could easily look through them. Of course she would. She would be happy to. She didn't say it, but most of all she felt honored to be asked. It was something to do, some small way to help.

Back in the present, she walked up to the door and knocked. "Aunt Madelynne?" she called through the door. There was no answer so she opened it and stepped in. "Aunt Madelynne?" she called out again. Alarmed, she heard groans coming from the hallway by the bedroom and bathroom. "Aunt Madelynne." This time it was a statement. An announcement that someone was there to help. She moved quickly to the bathroom and the sight she saw chilled her. Her aunt lay on the floor, wedged beneath and between the sink, toilet and tub. She knelt next to her and gently pulled her from where she was wedged. She sat on the ground with her legs in front of her and, leaning against the tub, pulled her aunt to her, resting her so that the older woman could lean back on the younger one. They sat this way for a while, calmly talking, while she tried to figure out a plan to get both she and her aunt up and back into the living room.

She sat there with her for what seemed like an eternity, but which was probably only half or quarter of an hour. "We're going to get you into the living room, Aunt Madelynne, so you can sit down where it's comfortable. Ok?" Her aunt was all too happy to get up off the cold floor and into her nice, comfortable wing chair. She gently pushed her aunt into a sitting position and looked down at her own front. There was a large bloodstain where her aunt's head had rested. Wriggling out from beneath her aunt, she stood up and helped the older woman to her feet shakily. Supporting her, she walked her into the living room and sat her down. "You have a little cut on the back of your head, Aunt Madelynne. I'm going to get you some ice." Fortunately her aunt didn't notice the bloodstain on the front of her niece's denim overalls and crisp white blouse. She got the ice and the towel and gingerly placed it on her aunt's head all the while thinking about how to call her parents and husband back at the house.

It was here, for the one and only time she could ever remember, that her aunt spoke sharply to her. She knew that she didn't mean it and that it wasn't really her aunt speaking, but, for a moment, her feelings were hurt. She knew she needed to be more cautious. She very gently and carefully repositioned the ice pack and her aunt was back to being herself.

Once she settled her aunt comfortably, she called the house and talked to them once, twice, thrice? She lost count. The last time she talked for a while with her husband, answering his questions. "No, I don't know if she lost consciousness. She doesn't know how long, if at all, she was out. She says she was just in the bathroom and then, next thing she knew, she was on the floor. No, she doesn't know how long she was on the floor. It's a good-sized cut. I can't see it very well. It's probably quarter or half dollar sized. Yes, I think someone needs to come over. I think she needs to go to the ER. Uh-huh. Ok. Good. Bye." "Mom and Dad are coming right over, Aunt Madelynne" she said to her aunt as she hung up the phone. "They're leaving now."

Both of them, relieved, now sat and stood, waiting, watching television. The scene then was one she knew she would never forget for as long as she lived. There she was, blood on the front of her overalls, standing behind the wing chair, her aunt seated upon it, holding an ice-filled towel to her aunt's head, watching Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman sing "Time To Say Goodbye" on a television special performance. Was it a divine message or a cruel joke?

More when I'm finished . . .

Happenings

There's an awful lot going on so I haven't had much time for writing lately. Mike's ok. He had his angiogram last week and everything looked good. There was no damage, he didn't have a heart attack, his valves, muscle, blood vessels and everything looked good. Yay! That's a relief for all of us. We still have to figure out what's causing the arrhythmia, but he's having a sleep apnea appointment this week so maybe that will answer some questions. Cherlyn's going solo for a couple of weeks while Rob is TDY in Thailand. Katie's looking for a job. India's going to be staying at her aunt's for a while (long story). Those are the highlights. More later. I've been feeling like I'm spinning my wheels lately . . . if only I could get things DONE. Hey, look! A chicken!

Chuckle, chuckle. Ah, 'tis better to laugh at oneself or else one might give up and cry. I prefer to laugh. Here's the picture that's going on our new checks. Most of them are recent . . . at least within the last few months.

New Year

"What a fellowship, what a joy divine, leaning on the everlasting arms, what a blessed mix, what a peace is mine, leaning on the everlasting arms. Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarm, leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms."

I love the start of a new year. It's a time to start over, to not worry about what didn't get done the year before. I can let it all go and start from scratch. My mind is whirring with all of the things I want to do. Topping the list is our bedroom.

"When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul. It is well, it is well, it is well, it is well, it is well, it is well with my soul. My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!"

Not only do I get to begin anew, I get to begin anew with Mike on days. That's normally not a shift we prefer, but when it's 12 hours of graves or 12 hours of days, I prefer the days. It means that I can work in our bedroom and get it to looking like a bedroom again, as opposed to a storage room with a bed.

"On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame; and I love that old cross where the dearest and best for a world of lost sinners was slain. So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, and exchange it some day for a crown."

The new year was ushered in rather quietly with me riding with Mike until 1 am or so. The snap, crackle and pop of the fireworks resonating across town was the only "excitement" which is ok by me. I don't even think they got a deuce, it was fairly quiet. Not bad for 6 hours of OT.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father; there is no shadow of turning with Thee; Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not; As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be. Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided; Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

2008 promises to be a year full of change. There's an excellent chance that Katie and Emma will be moving out. It all hinges on Katie being hired as a dispatcher by the PD. She scored well on the initial test and her oral is scheduled for the 11th. If all goes well, she could start there in March or so . . . maybe even February. India turns 18 at the end of March and she's already saying that she's moving then. It would not surprise me in the least if she wants to go live with her aunt. I just want to see her graduate and then I can relax a little. We could conceivably have an empty house come April!

2008 could very well be The Year of Adjusting.

More a little later on Mom's Guide to Dating or What I've Tried To Teach My Three Daughters About Picking A Good Man Based On What I Learned The Hard Way.

Blessings

I've been loved unconditionally by the same man for over 25 years.

I have a warm house in which to live, albeit, it's cluttered and disorganized, but I also have the mind that is able to know that it's cluttered and disorganized. That is a huge blessing.

I have three daughters, a son-in-law and two grandchildren (with one on the way) who I love deeply and who love me.

I have a warm, friendly, loving relationship with my four brothers and sisters and their spouses and families.

I still have my parents to talk to, unlike many people my age.

I still have my Grandma, almost unheard of with just about everyone I know.

We have plenty . . . we have more than plenty.

Our granddaughter lives with us, as does our daughter.

We are all healthy.

I have chickens!

I am free.

I have a Lord who loved me so much that He took all of my imperfections and wrongs and took them upon Himself so that I could live with Him in His house when I leave this world.

Been waaayy too long

It's been way too long since I've been able to post anything. After my last post, I was getting ready for our two week sojourn to Okinawa, then we were in Okinawa for two weeks, then we got home and I had to get all of my photos ready for the November Art Show at the Art Center, then I had to get ready to shoot Katie's best friend's wedding (photography talk :0)), then the wedding, and the next day we left for Oregon to visit my mom and dad. That's where I am now. We only have a short two days here but already they've been eventful.

We had a great dinner last night with acorn squash casserole (not sure if that's really what it is, but I made it so I'll call it that), beans and hamhocks and corn bread. Mike didn't feel very well after dinner (the house was really hot) so he went and laid down. Turns out he was sweating profusely, had pain in his left side up into his jaw, indigestion, and pressure in his chest. So a quick call to to 911 and a not so quick visit to the Stayton ER and we were back home three hours later with instructions for him to see his primary doc for a stress test as soon as we get home. He wasn't all that crazy about us calling 911 but it was better to be safe and conservative. There are too many horror stories out there about all the people who don't call 911 because they figure it's just indigestion or whatever and then they end up dying. I'd rather be one of the other stories about the cautious people who go ahead and go in and find out it's not a heart attack. I'll be interested to hear what his doc has to say.

Hopefully things will be a little slower for me when we get home. I want to relax and not have to do anything so I can just enjoy this wonderful season. I have blogs to read that I haven't had a chance to, books to read, writing to write, fudge to make :0) and just inside stuff I want to get done. Plus I have about 45,000 photos I need to sift through and delete bad ones. That's a huge job.

Life is good.

Small Town Life

I've been thinking for quite some time to write about life in our little town and a recent post on BabsRN's site has given me the impetus I've needed.

I've been very blessed to have lived in the areas in which I've lived. My first 25 years were spent in San Jose, California. I saw the area go through major changes during that time. We moved there in 1957, when the population was around 200,000, when San Jose was still a major agricultural area with lots of fields, cool old houses and creeks. We used to take tin cans down to the creek near us and catch frogs and tadpoles. We'd ride our bikes through the fields and pick wild mustard bouquets for our mom. There were definite boundaries of green space between the various towns back then, not all jumbled together and unidentifiable as to where you are when you drive around there now. I watched the mustard fields and the orchards get swallowed up by houses and businesses and I saw the blue sky and beautiful views of all the mountains surrounding the valley vanish away to brown skies and blocked views. That's not to say it always has brown skies . . . just seems like that's more the rule than the exception now. I remember looking up at the sky and not being able to count the stars because there were too many where now you look up at the sky and you can count the stars because you can see so few. This was a place where we'd play outside until late at night (in the summer), playing kick the can and hide and go seek in our neighborhoods. A place where you had to behave because the neighbors would call your folks and tell them if you'd done something you shouldn't have.

But then it began to grow. It grew and grew and, I suppose, is still growing. Few people can afford to buy homes there any more unless they have a ton of money. It's unfortunate. I like going back for an occasional visit as my sister still lives there, but I'm glad I don't live there any more. I'm very thankful for being raised there and thankful for where I am now.

Maybe it's because of my growing up experiences in San Jose that make me like our little town all the more. I never, ever for a moment thought I would live in a small town with a population of right around 5,000. I'm glad I'm here, though. It's a beautiful little town. We have the coastal mountains to our west and other mountains (big ones!) to our east, with our little valley in the middle. We're surrounded by redwood, pine and oak trees and have several good-sized creeks that run through town. We have deer constantly in our yards and gardens (check out some of my earlier posts), mountain lions, coyotes, foxes, and all sorts of other critters.

Being a rural town with plenty of wildlife around, sometimes some of that wildlife introduces itself to you. We had a grey tree squirrel fall out of one of our trees from probably 30+ feet up a few weeks ago. I heard some screaming sort of sound and thought it was one of the chickens so went out to check. There was this little baby squirrel squirming around on the ground just making the worst-sounding racket. I picked it up, brought it inside and ended up taking care of it for the next three weeks. I just gave it to one of the local wildlife rehab people yesterday. It was pretty cool feeding it and taking care of it for a while, but then it started to become pretty attached to me and I was afraid it would forget it was a squirrel meant for the outside squirrel world so I gave it to the rehabber sooner than I had planned. Emma was the only other one Pongo (she named him) would allow to touch him as she kept climbing up on my lap when I would feed him. He got used to her and she got used to him.

One of our other wildlife encounters was a little scarier . . . or maybe it should be "potentially scarier." We had a pool in the background several years ago during the summertime that was about 3 feet deep and maybe 12 feet across. I went outside one morning and found mountain lion tracks in the wet dirt around it and found it partially deflated where it looked as if something large had leaned on it and maybe had a drink from it. We took the pool down that day. Don't really want to invite the mountain lions to make this their nighttime haunt. We don't go out to the woods to walk around at dusk or dawn as we're not all that crazy about turning ourselves into mountain lion chow. We also had a cat disappear around the same time.

The kids in town who are the children of old-time farmers and ranchers, folks who've been here for forty plus years, still are brought up to say sir and ma'am and to respect their elders. Conversely, the kids in town whose parents moved here to grow weed or to become radical environmentalists are definitely NOT brought up that way. I'm not talking normal environmentalists who believe in good stewardship of the land and responsible use, putting back what your take from the land. These are the folks who believe that spiking trees, among other things, is reasonable. Fortunately, those tactics don't seem to happen much any more but the mentality is still there. Anyway, I'm getting off track. To be fair, though, it's not all that black and white. Kids are kids. Some are rude, some have manners.

This being a small town, you have to watch your behavior because someone you know is always around. This goes for both adults and the kids. If you're going to cheat on your wife, it would be foolish and stupid to parade around town with your girlfriend. Secrets don't stay secret for long in a small town. If you're a kid and you cut school and race around in your car, you have to expect that your folks are going to find out.

If you live in town and you're out for a walk, people smile and wave at you. Going to Safeway often ends up being a major social event as you will ALWAYS see someone you know. When we first moved here and I would go to the grocery store, it was always an experience of frustration. I was so used to the checker just checking the groceries and doing it as quickly as possible. There was no chatter. There were no 'hellos' or 'how are you's' or 'what are the kids doing'? It's just the opposite here. We know almost all of the employees by first name and they know us. Our kids go to school with their kids (or, in some cases, with them) and we all share news of what's happening in each others' lives. We ask because we care and we listen because we care.

If something catastrophic is happening, we empathize with each other and we pray for each other. We take meals to folks who are going through bad times and we celebrate with those who have good things happen to them. At Christmas, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and Halloween (among other times), people (ones we know) bake goodies and bring them to the police department for the officers to snack on. They send cards and write friendly notes and say thank you. Lots of businesses listen to police scanners during their days to find out more about what's going on in town as well as to pay attention to the fire calls. Since we have a volunteer fire department, and many businesses have a firefighter or two working for them, this becomes a wise idea. When there is a fire or an accident, everyone pays attention and asks around about it because if it happened to someone local, it very well could be someone you know.

Many, many of our kids join the military. Last time I checked there were about 75 kids currently serving. It's seen as a good way to get life experience and to serve. We're proud of our heroes and like to keep up on how they're doing wherever they may be stationed. Being the mom of a daughter in the Air Force and another daughter considering the Marines, I make it a point to ask other military parents how their kids are doing. I know I appreciate it when they ask me. In fact, I just started reading a book about how the small town kids are the majority of the kids who join the military while the big city kids are the ones who typically do not. That sure is true here.

We have some real negatives that happen here and rather than rewrite them, take a look in the labels under "marijuana" or "police department." One of the negatives just started up his street bike (very loudly, as usual) and left (again very loudly). Are they still dopers if they've had their dope taken away from them? I wish he would just MOVE.

I think some of my small town mentality comes from my folks . . . probably more my mom. Or maybe it's just their generational thing. My mom was raised in a little tiny town in southern Iowa (I was born in Iowa). We were brought up to have manners; to get up and get out of a chair for either our Mom or Dad when they came into the living room. We ate dinner together every night. Oh, I'm a PK, too. My dad was ordained a Baptist minister and he also worked with kids for years and years. He was ordained and raised Baptist, but we were pretty much nondenominational for the majority of our lives. I have good memories of those years. My folks were generally very good at not expecting us kids to be perfect. I would say we had a very normal upbringing for our generation. Think The Walton's. :0) When he stopped being a pastor, at about 55, he went into the training and teaching field for Orchard Supply Hardware, which was later bought by Sears. He ran the training department for both organizations and really stressed customer service for all of the managers he trained. You can still see it if you go into any of those stores and deal with people who went through his training program. I digress again, don't I?

I just popped into Babs' site again to reread something she'd written about the South. Check it out here. Much of it really is appropriate for our area, too. They have catfish, we have crawdads (ok, we have to get them from somewhere else), trout and abalone. We definitely DO have vegetarian and vegan and all that stuff. In fact, you can find several organic and vegetarian restaurants in town. Hippies gotta eat somewhere. And the people who drive the expensive cars here are more than likely to be the growers. Here's why.

Let's say that Joe Neighbor grows marijuana for fun and profit. Let's also say that each plant produces 5 pounds . . . shoot, let's be conservative and say that each plant only produces 1 pound (I know of a grower recently whose plants were producing 7 pounds of quality "bud" per plant). Joe N. sells his pound of processed bud for $2,000. That's his return on ONE plant. Now. Say Joe N. follows our county's guidelines and he has 25 plants, all for his own medicinal use, of course. He has an indoor grow so he's able to have about 4 harvests a year. For each harvest, he's getting, VERY CONSERVATIVELY, $2,000 per plant. That's $50,000 per harvest times 4 harvests equals $200,000 a year. If you want to look at it a little more realistically, multiply it by 5 so that each plant produces 5 pounds instead of 1. THAT'S why we have so much growing here. That's also why some people have $10,000/month (no mistake on the number of zeroes) electric bills, too. So there is some overhead you have to pay for. Well, I said I wouldn't talk about the pot, but there I am. Oh well.

Marijuana for profit (I'm not talking TRUE medicinal needs) is a scourge on society. We have more murders and crimes relating to marijuana but if you want to talk about a drug that ruins lives, then you're talking methamphetamine. Unfortunately, this being a rural area, meth is manufactured here and readily available. It truly ruins peoples' lives. All of the foster kids we had over the years had parents who were hooked. I've seen normal people with jobs and families start to use and then just lose everything that had ever been important to them. Unfortunately, it seems like so many of them never quit. So now I've REALLY digressed. Must close this out and this is as good a time as any.

Just stuff

My favorite blog (other than Cherlyn's, of course), BabsRN, is taking a break. Apparently, a few idiots have taken the fun out of blogging for her. I will miss reading her. Because of a few comments, though, on her site, I checked out Night Lighting Woman and she, too, is interesting.

A strange dog was just here and then I heard you-know-who calling for, what appeared to me to sound like, a dog. Go figure. Dope grower with a big dog. And now I get to rant.

Author: Linda Staff Writer
Date: August 31, 2007
Publication: X News, The (CA)
A Sacramento man was arrested last week for the July armed robbery in X. X Bad guy, 26, was arrested August 20 in Sacramento on suspicion of committing the X robbery. Bad guy was brought to the X County jail on August 24 and was released August 28 on $150,000 bail. His preliminary hearing is scheduled for September 5.

The second suspect remains at-large.
According to the police, the July robbery involved two men from the Sacramento area who met with Arnold

That's just the beginning. The two Sacramento men met with two of our locals and, when price negotiations fell through on the weed they were buying, proceeded to rob them of said weed at gunpoint. Now here's the rub. We all know that two men (we'll call them victims) were robbed at gunpoint and that there are now two people in jail for robbing said two victims at gunpoint. We all know WHY two victims were being robbed at gunpoint and WHAT was taken from them. WHERE did said robbed weed come from you might ask? Well, one of the "victims" grows it. At his house. Next door to us. For "medicinal" purposes. Then you might find yourself asking, "What the hell? Medicinal purposes?!" You'd be with me at that point.

So WHY, WHY, WHY, I want to know is nothing being done about this alleged "medicinal" weed that one of the victims is obviously not growing for medicinal purposes? WHY, WHY, WHY is nothing being done about the illegal grow that is going on so that this "victim" can sell his weed to a couple of buyers who are then turning around and selling the weed to folks over in Sacramento? NOT for medicine. I thought our 215 laws were so that Joe Blow could grow his weed for his own medicinal purposes, NOT so that Joe Blow could SAY that he's growing it for medicinal purposes and then turn around and sell it to dopers.

I don't understand. I just don't. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the smell. I'm tired of the fact that he grows next door to me. I'm tired of the smell more. I'm tired of the fact that because he grows next door to me, it opens me and my family up to the danger of a botched home invasion robbery. I feel like putting a sign out in front of my house that says, "No dope here. He lives next door." Why can't all the growers just go away.

So Emma and I are out in our driveway this morning and I hear a rustling to the right of me. This doe was about 20 feet away. I know it's 20 because I was standing next to a 16 foot fence. I stood and took a few pictures of her.

Then, who should appear but one of her young 'uns. Again, just about 20 feet from us.
They were content to eat and just keep an eye on us . . . just as we were watching them.
"Gimme some of that.!" "No, it's MINE!"

Just to let you see how close they were at their farthest. Emma was waving this stick around and hitting the lower branches of the tree I was standing next to. Bottom line, she wasn't been very quiet. Didn't seem to trouble the deer, though.