On-Line Gaming - Going Native

I’ve joined the cyber world of on-line gaming. It’s the last thing I thought I’d ever do! I am playing A TALE IN THE DESERT III (see http://www.atitd.com/ and http://www.atitd.net/). Friends told me about the game and urged me to play the trial version (24 hours of on-line playing) to learn more about the game, but Chess is my game of choice and I wasn’t interested.

One day, in a weak moment, I ran out of lies and excuses for not wanting to play and agreed to see what it was all about. I’m not proficient in ‘computerese’, but it took only a few mouse clicks for the game to grab my attention, and I quickly became a player.

You can read the Wikipedia explanation of the game at (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ATITD). At the bottom of that page, there are several underlined references giving details. There is a player maintained Wiki just for A TALE IN THE DESERT which explains how to do everything in the game (http://wiki.atitd.net/tale3) . There are levels which players achieve, (or not) as they choose but regardless of the level, all the players are great about mentoring and helping others.

After choosing a user name, and passing several simple tests, one becomes a citizen of Ancient Egypt. There is absolutely no violence in this game. No guns or killing allowed. It’s a culture based on creating the kind of community all the players decide they want. As each player learns new skills, they share, trade and join guilds.

There are levels of achievement earned by learning and developing projects. Players advance at their own pace, but all players vote on laws, and approve works of art and sculpture. I am now at Level 2 and have built my house, and learned the skills of mining iron ore, sowing and harvesting flax seeds and making and firing clay pottery. I have also learned to fish and am busy trading with other players for items I need for projects of my own.

Iziz, Kalateth and ShuoftheFieryHeat growing Flax near the lake with the Ferry and SHANNARA Guild Hall in the background.

There are many activities where multiple players band together to do a common task. Working in concert they achieve special goals like “digging for stones” or learning “acro (acrobatic)” moves from each other and from advanced players like Acro Masters. Last night I went on my first dig for stones. There were 60 other players there and we all took turns digging the hole. I signed in with the Dig Master and then we gathered around a “dig hole”. Each player has an internal game timer which dictates how fast or how often he can “dig”. Digging ensemble allows players to “uncover” more and more stones. At then end of the dig (a time set by the Dig Master) the stones and other wealth are divvied up among all the diggers. There are multiple chat windows in the game and lots of chatting and greeting and directions are passed around the group. It’s a fun way to meet the other players.

Time, day and night, follow realistically in a 24 hour pattern with 20 real-time minutes = 1 hour passing in the game day cycle. I’m amazed at the way the day goes from sunrise to night time with the sky full of stars and phases of the moon. I’ve never played other computer games so I have no way of comparing, but I’m amazed at the figures range and smoothness of motion as they walk, run, sit down or fish. The sounds are fun too. Bees buzz , frogs croak and crickets chirp. Even when I’m fishing on the bank of the lake and not catching a single fish, I’m still fascinated enough to keep casting to hear the sound of the hook plopping in the water and the croaking of frogs.

Iziz and ShuoftheFieryHeat turning Jugs on the Pottery Wheels and Firing Jugs in the Kiln at SHANNARA Guild Hall.

May Baskets

This year, May, 2006, spring was observed by illegal Latinos, in the largest work boycott ever seen in this country, demanding citizenship in the United States.

How different the culture is today compared to that of my childhood years. Dancing round a May Pole and giving May Baskets to friends on May 1st are charming customs no longer in vogue. When I was a child we celebrated spring by making small baskets from paper and ribbons. After folding paper into little boxes or curling them into cones with ribbon handles, we filled them with flowers and candies to give as presents to school mates, teachers and neighbors.

Part of the fun was to secretly put them on door steps or hang them on door knobs, then dart out of sight after ringing the door bell or knocking on the door. When the recipient answered the door they would find the basket and wonder who gave it.

My sister Adeline and I competed with each other in making our baskets prettier than the ones we received. We filled them with wild violets and daises and a few after dinner mints in pastel colors, raisins and shelled peanuts. We had as much fun making them as giving them away. After delivering a basket, sometimes we would watch from behind a shrub or tree to see the surprised reaction on a recipient’s face as they discovered our basket.

Of our neighbors, Mrs. Jones, who lived two doors from us, received the most May Baskets. Because we could hide more easily after ringing her door bell, many of the kids in the neighborhood including all my brothers and sisters, took turns leaving baskets on her door step. For several hours after school until dark, on the first day of May, she was kept busy answering her doorbell. At the time, we assumed her surprise and delight in finding the baskets, but today, I wonder if she was as good a sport as we believed. In any case, we never had a hint of annoyance or frustration. I would like to think she had as much fun receiving them as we did giving them.

Radios

It has occurred to me that I’m a ‘radioholic’. I have a surplus of radios. They are of various sizes, shapes and colors. Most work with a combination of electricity and/or batteries; some play only with batteries. I rarely discard one so I have a collection that is unique. One of them is a bright yellow AM- FM flashlight with a siren sound. An old favorite is the size of a deck of cards that uses a 9 volt battery, but I have to remove the case and jiggle wires to make it play. One is a General Electric shortwave AM- FM radio the size of a book that has a broken tuning knob. It can be tuned using fingers, but the little lever that selects AM or FM won’t lock into place. There is a set of radio headphones in the shape of hamburgers from Burger King. Another is an advertisement for Radio Shack batteries and is shaped like one.


The kitchen and bedroom radios have plain black plastic cases. My small combination CD, tape, AM- FM radio has an elegant design of silver, gray and black. My single tape player with AM-FM is silver and blue. My most expensive radio dubs tapes and cost $75 from Radio Shack. The commercials for Bose radios promise great sound for listening, but I am satisfied with my less expensive radios and only get frustrated when the stations drift. The kitchen radio is tuned to public radio 24/7 but I listen to an AM news station in the bedroom when I’m not watching TV.

During my childhood, an early family radio had a large megaphone speaker with a picture of a dog on it. That was supplanted with a table model with a curved wooden case which sat on a shelf in the dining room where we gathered to listen to news, favorite programs and the President. At the time of the Lindberg kidnapping, all the room chatter stopped as the radio announcer reported the latest news. My grandparents lived with us during that period of time and my grandfather got upset with the ranting of Father Coglin.

After school my sister and I listened to soap operas like Stella Dallas before the children’s programs, Jack Armstrong and Orphan Annie came on. After supper, we children would pull our chairs up around Dad’s, or sit on the floor at his feet as we listened to a program called The Black Lagoon. We older children had our ears glued to the radio along with Dad when The Brown Bomber fought in the ring. I heard discussions about NRA in the news broadcasts but only knew it had something to do with the depression.

Our imaginations enhanced the scripts of the broadcasts with color and emotion. My mother was so taken with a singing cowboy’s voice, she wrote for his advertised photograph costing a dollar, but was terribly disappointed when he was not as handsome as she mentally had pictured him.

During the depression my father became an amateur Ham radio operator and built his own radios using vacuum tubes. As each succeeding radio was more powerful, shelves were added to hold the additional tubes. The tubes created a lot of heat, so the intricate wiring and tubes were left exposed. We children were not allowed to touch any of the tubes or wires but were allowed to watch as Dad tinkered with them.

One evening Mom and Dad went to visit friends and left instructions to disconnect the radio from the wall socket if it started to rain. The storm started with thunder and lightening and suddenly there were loud popping, crackling noises with streaks of electricity jumping all over the exposed radio shelves. We kids were too terrified to go near enough to pull the plug. H.O., an uncle who had been left in charge, (and was only a few years old than I), had the courage to pull the plug which stopped the sizzling flashes. From that time on, He had our total admiration and devotion. And he got credit for saving Dad’s radio which was in use until the war came and the government suspended all ham licenses.

Years later, I emulated my father and got a General License at age 80. But that's another story...

Rita Damage Repaired

Except for painting inside and out, the hurricane damage to my house has been repaired. Light at the end of the tunnel is iridescent and glowing brighter every day! The job of finding a bone fide contractor seemed almost insurmountable after listening to TV news coverage of scams, rip offs, and shoddy work, but I did not experience any of those horrors reported by neighbors or news coverage of the area.

I had to learn how insurance companies work as well as how to check qualifications of persons claiming to be in the business of repairing hurricane damage. The operative word was PATIENCE, and I was forced to practice it.

I telephoned the Better Business Bureau of southeast Texas for a list of contractors working in the area. They also gave me a detailed list of things to check before signing a contract with any person advertising such repairs. First on the list was the requirement for a ‘bond’ and checking to make certain the person was actually bonded by phoning the city hall where the work was to be done and requesting a copy of the registered bond with the amount of insurance carried. The next step was to check with the surrounding county courthouses for any liens or law suits against any of the contractors being considered and contacting at least two referrals.

I added names from the internet and newspapers to the BBB list and started telephoning them, but I soon had so many scraps of paper with notes, and pertinent information the clutter became too much to cope with. My son’s suggestion of using manila folders for each contractor was so practical I had a mini filing system up and running in short order.

From my apartment in Houston, I started a routine of phoning, leaving messages, waiting for return calls with bids contingent on seeing inside of the house, and talking to references. My insurance adjuster in Florida was my security blanket, giving me tips on how contractors work and what questions to ask.

Before meeting with individuals at the house for final bids, I phoned my brother, a retired contractor who lives in the Dallas area, and asked if he would take the time to help me choose a contractor and supervise repairs. When he said yes, I was delighted! Motel Six had only one room with two king size beds with cable TV coming available the next afternoon so we reserved it for a week with the possibility of continuing for as many days as needed.

I stuffed my contractor files in a briefcase, packed a cooler with water and lots of munchies, clothes to last a week and waited for my brother to pick me up in Houston and head for Rita territory. I scheduled 4 interviews and every thing was on track!

After checking into the motel, we drove to the house so my brother could see the damage. While we discussed what had to be done, we saw a crew putting new shingles on the house across the street. They were going 90 to nothing and my brother said that was the kind of workers we needed.

As we watched the work being done, a woman and a man were picking up junk as soon as the roofers tossed it on the ground and put it in the back of a pickup truck. The woman waved to us and I walked over to talk to her while my brother went inside the house. The woman said her husband was doing the work. His name was Scot and I asked if he could talk to us when took a work break.

In the meantime, the owner of the house came by and told us he hired Scot after seeing what a great job he had done for a friend of his. After my brother interviewed him, we hired him on the spot. Scot was from San Antonio and did not have a registered bond, but my brother said it wasn’t necessary. We had found the right person to repair my house.

We chose the option of buying the material and Scot went to the lumber yard with us to make certain the materials were the best and delivery would be when needed. Because the structural damage was not as extensive as originally thought, the length of time to complete the repairs was lessened by three days. My brother was extremely pleased and gave a substantial bonus for a job well done. Fortune truly smiled on us when our chance encounter with Scot ended my Rita saga so happily.

March Madness

March Madness usually refers to the end of season basketball games. My March Madness is studying French from a free, online, beginning French class that can be found on iTunes The FrenchPodClass (http://www.frenchpodclass.com/ ) .

It’s a delightful and fun way to learn French and allows one to choose the degree of seriousness that suits best. I download the weekly lessons which are short, varied and not dependent on previous lessons. My approach is quite haphazard. I listen to the audio lesson while I skim thru the pdf pages. I enjoy the music selections, especially the songs by Edith Piaf. I love the way she rolls the French ‘r’.

This week we had three sentences to translate. I submitted my translations, (guesses), of the following three sentences. Sebastian, the instructor, will show us the correct translation next week. Perhaps some of my readers already know what the sentences say.

Taille tôt, taille tard, toujours en mars.
Sème tes poi à la saint Patrice, tu en auras tout ton caprice.
Quand mars se déguise en été, avril prend ses habits fourres.

(update : The game is now over and the results can be found at : http://www.frenchpodclass.com/index.php?post_id=68661&comments=on )

I’ve also discovered ‘widgets’’. There is a small widget engine that’s free which is required for the widgets to work. The FrenchPodClass has a widget of quotes in both French and English which I downloaded to my computer desktop. The widget has a timer that you can adjust that controls the display frequency of the quotations and sayings. It’ll show the quotation for a while then fade away and reappear later with a new quotation. If you get impatient you can lick on the triangle icon and get another quotation right away. There are proverbs based on the calendar year in French and there are idioms with English-French translations. You can also select different color backgrounds like white and green and even a transparent background so your desktop theme shows through! You can learn all about widgets from Yahoo since they have a great number for people to enjoy. They explain what they are and how to use them and they will help you create one if you are in the mood to do so. You can even share your widget with others if you choose.

(To download the Yahoo! Widget Engine go here: http://widgets.yahoo.com/ and The FrenchPodClass_Quotations Widget can be found here: http://www.widgetgallery.com/view.php?widget=38958 )

I really don’t have an ear for languages. I was painfully aware of this in high school when I took Latin as a freshman. The only thing enjoyable in that class was a toga party. My attempt at learning other languages has yielded meager success at best. I have rarely gotten past ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’, along with an occasional phrase about cost, direction, food or weather.

Many years ago I listened to some German language records but never got past the question, “Where is the train station?” The mother of a friend once volunteered to teach me French but the only thing I learned was how to pronounce the word, ‘elephant’. When I studied Russian in college I learned how to say, ‘thank you’ and the first two words of the song, ‘Volga Boatmen’, (which is not an acceptable song since the communist revolution). The only thing in Spanish I know is, ‘My casa is your casa’.

All verbs in another language are irregular as far as I’m concerned. Word endings denoting masculine and feminine gender is beyond me. Pronunciation and writing French is proving difficult so I’m not spending a lot of time on that part of the course. The transcripts of the lessons have both French and English translations on the same page so I can fool myself into believing I’m truly learning the language!

À bientôt !

In Transition

I’m betwixt and between. I’ve temporarily re-located to Houston until my house in Orange is habitable and the damage caused by hurricane Rita, is repaired. Putting the house furnishings into a Houston storage unit was a major move and accomplished by family, friends and hired help.

My sister Esther, her daughter, Cindy and her husband, Arthur, came from Baton Rouge to help. Seeing them and getting hugs helped to assuage the anguish of down sizing. Selecting which things to keep was a challenge! I chose to give Esther many of my treasures since “The time has come to talk of other things…. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings….”

The move was made over a long four day weekend, Thursday thru Sunday. Motel rooms in Orange were at a premium, but with luck and perseverance rooms for 8 people were reserved for the four days. Renting a U-haul truck and hiring men to load it was even more difficult. The company finally located a truck in Beaumont that would be available on Saturday morning. They were unable to deliver it to Orange or provide helpers, so my son took Cindy with him to pick it up. She drove his car back to Orange while he drove the truck. As for helpers, a friend from Houston that planned to help from Friday night thru Sunday brought her son and a friend of his to do the heavy lifting.

The motel was undergoing extensive repairs. Although the usual amenities were lacking, all available rooms were booked by workmen. The front desk was inundated with requests for toilet paper, towels, missing pieces of coffee pots, coffee packets and shampoo. Serving a continental breakfast for tenants was out of the question. To get to and from our rooms, we traversed corridors filled with cement dust and sawed lumber. Long hoses and bundles of wiring snaked around corners while the echo of hammering and buzzing of saws reverberated throughout large open areas that used to be lobbies and dining areas.

Storage was unavailable in Orange. Deciding to rent a storage unit in Houston was an emotional decision, but one that I finally had to make. After weighing pros and cons as constructively as I could, I knew the time had come. The weather was warming and work on the house could be done before temperatures reached the famous ‘highs’ of Texas and before another hurricane season started.

My son did the organizing with suggestions coming long distance from my daughter. He said it was like herding cats, but he managed to keep the project schedules on track from beginning to end. Considering the conditions and situation, he did a masterful job!

We didn’t have electricity or water at the house but we had brought enough bottles of water, fruit and snacks for munching as we worked. Breakfast was at MacDonald’s, the only eating place open for business between 8 and 9 in the morning. Wendy’s, near Wal-Mart’s parking area, was our choice for coffee, lunch and bathroom breaks. At dusk when we quit work, we either ordered pizza delivered to our motel rooms or stopped at fast food places to get ‘take out’ for eating at the motel. We planned to relax after supper playing our favorite card game, Spite and Malice, but we were too tired to do anything but shower and go to sleep. The routines of each day and evening were a repetition of the day before.

Cindy had towed a trailer to Orange so she could get the furniture pieces she had stored at my house. The men loaded her trailer at the same time they loaded the U-haul truck. By the time we were all ready to get the show on the road to Baton Rouge and Houston, I felt like I had run an Iroquois gauntlet!!!



I’m now in the process of finding a general contractor who can work with metal roofs. I have high hopes since talking on the phone with two contractors working in the area and hope they send me bids. Thank heaven I’m beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. My admiration of family members, who survived and adapted from untold crises more difficult than mine, increases daily. I marvel at the way they over came. I hope I can show the same spirit as I start a new facet of living in Texas!

The Dog Ate the Mail and the Sugar Plums!

Tessa Mesa wasn’t home the day her local post office manager made a momentous decision. Delivery of priority holiday packages addressed to box numbers was running past the promised delivery date so it was decided to deliver the packages to the homes of the addressees. Tessa Mesa’s package was left on her door step in the belief that it was safe from lurking thieves. The mail person didn’t know that Tessa Mesa would be out of town until late Christmas day.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Missy, the German shepherd left to guard the yard and house, was free to roam the grounds and inspect all packages left on door steps which meant tasting and eating contents of said packages. When Tessa Mesa returned home all she found were bits of colored red and blue boxes and bits of wrapping paper with my return address and labels saying, “Rum Sugar Plums”, and “Orange Sugar Plums”.

I received a phone call Christmas night with the above story, and asking me what sugar plums were, what they looked like, and how they were made. I told her it was a secret family recipe that I had promised never to divulge on pain of death or banishment from the clan.

Of course, it's not really a "secret family recipe" so I'm delighted to have put it in the following post...

Happy Holidays to All!

Sugar Plums

Tessa Mesa, (who lives in the wilds of Arizona north of Prescott,) has threatened to drag me and make me run along side her new pickup truck when we tour family cemeteries in Iowa during our genealogy quest this April unless I give her my recipe for Sugar Plums.

This is a currently popular, but very old recipe using dried fruits. Using an old fashioned food grinder or a modern food chopper, a thick paste is made by combining dried apricots, golden raisins, black currants, dried figs, dates and pecans. Flavorings such as Orange, Rum or Brandy are added. The paste is formed into marble sized balls and rolled in finely chopped nuts or finely chopped flake coconut.

Variations of the recipe are made by adding or subtracting the types of dried fruits, crystallized ginger, flavorings and extracts as well as the kinds of mixtures the balls are rolled in. Rather than grind the dates into the paste, pitted dates and citrus flavored pitted prunes can be stuffed with the apricot mixture. Taste and imagination determine portions of ingredients.

I hope the above recipe lets me have the back seat of the king cab all to myself!

Happy Holidays to All!

Apartment Living In Houston

When I made an inspection trip to see the damage to my house, it was a most stressful day! Not only is the damage ugly and extensive, SOMEONE HAS BURGLED THE HOUSE! Among the stolen items was my antique piano stool and quilt collection. A box containing gold colored Sacajawea dollars was emptied, but the box holding the money was left behind. The thief didn’t realize the box was more valuable than the few dollars they took. I can only hope more items in the house are not ear marked for another burglary attempt!

Until repairs on my house have been made, I’ll be staying in an apartment in Houston. Friends and family have loaned me furnishings, stocked the pantry and freezer and even hung bird feeders for bird watching! That’s one of the things I miss most, the variety of birds, especially the Cardinals, living in the woods outside my windows at home.

Houston’s city streets are decorated for the holidays and the shops are full of people. Night time is a kaleidoscope of colored lights and moving vehicles. One can’t help being enthused with holiday spirit!

The Houston Post Office gives hurricane evacuees a free post box for forwarded mail until they can return home. On days I check my mail, there are long lines of people waiting to mail holiday packages. If the size and number of packages could indicate the state of the country’s economy, I’d say we were in good shape!

I have a Harry Potter closet in my apartment and have decorated the doors with bells and bows. A small table top Christmas tree with ornaments and lights sits in a corner of my living room and when I turn off the radio which plays Christmas music 24/7, I practice playing Xmas carols on my violin.

There are thousands and thousands of evacuees in Houston; many of them are in dire straits. FEMA is attempting to limit the housing for evacuees but Houston’s city government is concerned that it will become known as the U.S. city with the most homeless people. I wish all the evacuees could be as well cared for as I am. When I feel sorry for myself, all I have to do is think of them and count my blessings!

The 12 Mile Road

While I wait for Fema and my insurance company to make it possible for me to return to Texas, I’ve enjoyed a routine of visiting a bookstore in Gilroy, California. We browse the book aisles for the best and the latest until tea time, and then we take our selections to the corner where tea is served and order cookies and carrot cake.

I look forward to the drive, especially a 12 mile stretch, straight as an arrow, thru cultivated fields with telephone poles bordering one side. The beauty of the fields is striking with acres of color ranging from freshly disked black earth to long silver rows of plastic with varying shades of green stretching to the base of the mountains beyond.

A few weeks ago, after the pumpkin fields were harvested, one could see spots of orange from a few that had been missed. It was only hours before the ground gave way to new plantings. Every inch of soil is cultivated, even to the edge of paved roads. This area is truly ‘the land of milk and honey’, but builders are coveting and building homes as fast as they can and the agricultural lands are diminishing every day. They don’t seem to realize we are losing the Golden Eggs the earth has given us, chunk by chunk as they buy up the fields and build fashionably large multi-million dollar homes for wealthy people.

As we enter the 12 mile stretch, we eagerly anticipate the sighting of hawks which are often seen perched on the telephone poles and wires, and occasionally on the ground of a fallow field. Sometimes we only count 3 or 4, but once we counted 8. They are difficult to identify because they perch between the insulators and we drive by so fast we get only glimpses of them. No matter how we strain our eyes, details of color elude us, but the white breast patches can be seen if they are facing us as we drive past. If their backs are toward us, their stance indicates they are ready for action if food is spotted.

While searching the internet for hawk photos I came across this photo which is like the hawks we see.

Visible Storage

I recently saw an exhibit at the Computer History Museum in Mt. View, California ( http://www.computerhistory.org/). What a delightful experience! The exhibit called, Mastering The Game, is a collection of computer chess sets showing the history and development of electronic chess boards ( http://www.computerhistory.org/chess/).

As an avid chess player, (learner status only), I enjoyed watching the film of the famous match between IBM’s Deep Blue and Kasparov, the highest rated player in the world. A portion of Deep Blue, in fact half of the actual computer, has been donated to the museum and stands near the collection of chess sets which includes the signed board used to play the match.

The first electronic chess boards were quite primitive compared to the constant innovations and ever changing developments in computer technology. The chess exhibition is only a part of the museum which gives tours by volunteer docents who explain in detail the history of computer invention and design.

After browsing the chess exhibit I joined a group tour that encompassed the Jacquard weaving looms, a precursor to electronic computing. The exhibit houses actual computers from the most primitive to the modern micro devices. With the advent of the transistor, massive machines with tubes requiring huge areas of floor space could be replaced by smaller machines which in turn led to innovations in design and materials. I suspect my new laptop with wifi connections is already obsolete as I recommend a visit to this remarkable museum.

Horses and Cattle

I recently visited with two extraordinary women. I’m impressed with their expertise in animal behavior, breeding practices and agricultural knowledge. Michelle runs a horse boarding facility and Darlene runs a small cattle and horse ranch. Each exhibits a confidence and responsibility that indicates a life long interest in their work. It takes only a moment’s conversation to realize both women love what they are doing and have been animal lovers all their lives.

Darlene and her husband live in a small rural community called Escalon. After leaving the central California coastal area and the beautiful rolling hills and mountains of Pacheco Pass in Santa Clara Valley, it’s a several hour drive thru the fertile San Joaquin Valley to Modesto, California.

Darlene was waiting for us at the Flying J truck stop in Modesto where we had a fabulous lunch. It had been a long time since I had seen Darlene. She and my daughter share an interest in horses and had sent me photos of themselves on trail rides. Our lunch conversation centered on horses, rodeos, dairy farming, haying, and stock auctions.

After a leisurely lunch we drove to the ‘farm’. Of course the first thing we did was visit the cattle and horses. Several years ago Darlene had purchased a 2 year old Black Angus bull at auction and he has grown into a huge animal! The size of his head is massive and a quite intimidating although Darlene says he isn’t aggressive. Even so, she says she keeps an eye on him when she is in a pen with the cows and he’s near by.

The cows are also Black Angus. Darlene showed us how gentle the cows are by petting those she had given names. The bull was also in the same pen and he barely paid her any attention, but when she opened the gate to leave the pen, the bull did take a step toward her and she just held out her hand to stop him. A very impressive display of control !!!

Darlene’s favorite horse is Nugget which she rides as often as possible. A 2 year old filly, that is the spitting image of Nugget, but sired by another, will start her training in the spring. We petted 20 year old Perry, a thirty thousand dollar dressage horse that has been retired and no longer ridden. He is over 16 hands and as gentle as a pussy cat!

The ranch is surrounded by large dairy farms. Sizes range from 200 Holstein cows to as many as 600. Darlene raises hay which means planting and cutting, but she gave us a long detailed description of ‘green chop’ which is what the dairies feed. Field corn is cut while still green. The entire plant is finely chopped then piled into huge mounds where tractors compact it. When all the oxygen and water has been squeezed out, forming a dry ‘cake’, it is stored under tarps or blown into giant tubes for later use. Covered mounds like giant Quonset huts and long, tubes, placed side by side, dot the fields, indicating dairy country.

Michelle’s horse facility is a hidden treasure. Just as one thinks they are lost at the end of a paved lane, shrubs reveal a curve in the road leading to a private horse boarding and training facility. A spacious parking area of sparkling white gravel is next to a large covered arena.

The pastures lie in a bowl surrounded by foothills and mountains. One’s first impression is one of extreme cleanliness with well placed barns, stalls and pens. Michelle owns 30 acres and boards a horse for each acre.

She is the single care taker and does all the work although her husband and children lend support and help at various times. While feeding apples and carrots to my daughter’s horse, Bailey, we had a chance to ‘shoot the breeze’ with Michelle and heard stories about Bailey’s funny conduct on the days she’s not visited.

She told us of her plans to plant several hundred trees along a fence line and pointed out which horses she plans to bring into the barns for the winter to fatten them up, but still turn them out daily for exercise.

We talked about which horse is the boss in the pasture, (which happens to be Bailey), and whether or not if a horse’ rear end is higher than its withers it indicates the horse is still growing. That was a bit of info I had never heard before! Now, every time I see a horse, I’ll probably start silently comparing derrieres to necks….just one more thing to pay attention to so I can pretend to know more than I do about horses.

Hats off to both Darlene and Michelle! They are resourceful and charming women and I’m lucky to know them.

Living off The Land

At the end of November when I return to Texas, I’ll be facing decisions about house repairs and whether to buy a car to replace the stolen one, or use the senior bus and save money on car insurance and gasoline.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying life in the fast lane and living off the land at lunch time. When I mention the ‘fast lane’ I’m referring to the never ending ribbons of traffic on all the major thoroughfares of northern California. Back home in rural Texas, heavy traffic is when three or four cars are stopped for a red light at commute time. Here in the Bay Area, multiple lanes in both directions are bumper to bumper with vehicles, day and night.

The foothills and mountains of the San Francisco peninsula are cuffed and tied together with twisting concrete ropes, each promising a shorter road to beach towns. At night car lights paint strips of yellow/white in one direction, and red going in reverse.

If two or more people are in a car, the driver can use the ‘fast’ lane. It can be a breathtaking ride as slower lanes of traffic recede backward while clipping along at the maximum speed limit several car lengths behind the car in front. In rain, it’s even more breathtaking! I’ve taken to praying more than usual.

While I have been an ‘evacuee’, I’ve enjoyed delightful meals with friends and co-workers of family members who have graciously invited me to experience their traditional and special ethnic cuisine. I’ve also had the opportunity to join many of them for lunches at their favorite restaurants. So far I’ve enjoyed Russian, Mongolian, Greek, Chinese Fusion and both the Northern and Southern foods of India which can rival the hot chili dishes of Mexico. California organic, and wild Alaskan are important in the recipes my family serves. What fun to live off the land! So many choices, so little time!

Luck and Good Fortune

I consider myself the luckiest of people! I’m blessed with a loving family, wonderful friends and neighbors who are salt of the earth! While the hurricane, Rita, created havoc along the Texas coast, uprooting trees, ripping roofs off houses, demolishing basic community services, and leaving the area uninhabitable, I was enjoying the dry desert mountain air of Arizona.

My first evacuation occurred when Rita was declared a cat 5 hurricane and my son suggested I come to Houston and wait out the hurricane in his apartment. 18 hours later, Houston had to evacuate and I was on the move again. My son evacuated to Austin, but I accepted a cousin’s invitation to visit her in Arizona.

L, (aka Mesa Tessa) owns a mini ranch miles from civilization as we know it. There is no living off the land by patronizing fast food restaurants like Wendy’s, McDonalds, Burger King, or Jack in the Box. She drives ten miles to pick up her mail at a tiny branch post office and thirty miles to Prescott for groceries.

While we watched television coverage of Katrina survivors in New Orleans, the Bush administration finally kicked into gear as the scope of the catastrophe became apparent. As people of all ages and ethnic backgrounds suffered hunger, thirst, and helplessness in the face of death, flood and indignities due to lack of sanitation, I was safe, well fed and enjoyed the comfortable amenities of a modern ranch with every convenience.

Family and neighbors kept me informed by phone and email as conditions at home became known. Thanks to them I have been able to arrange to have the tree on top of the house removed and the roof tarped to prevent further damage. Considering the state of affairs in the devastated area of the gulf coast, I am very lucky to have a house I can still call home!

Even the fact that my car was recently stolen can’t dampen my belief that I am a lucky person. Neighbors continue to keep me apprised of conditions and improvements in town and my family has kept me entertained with excursions, presents and visits with friends. Houses can be repaired, cars can be replaced, but I would truly be lost if I didn’t have such a loving family and caring friends.

Yet Another Problem

It’s been a very interesting time since hurricane Rita ran over my Mom’s town in Texas and it’s not over yet….

Things have been a frustrating trying to get some help for Mrs. B, my Mom. It seems that no one will allow you to file, get copies, forward information, pay the bill or do anything at all with any account unless you are the “owner of record” or are “named on the bill”. It’s probably a good thing from an identity theft point of view, but some of the people I’ve tried to work with definitely have a Catch 22 clause in their work agreements. One company I called would not even let me PAY the bill for Mrs. B without a “coupon from the statement” and would not “forward a copy of the bill” unless “she calls in person” even though she’s an evacuee! However, they did assure me “since her bill is current” they would not cut off the utility… I guess they didn’t GET IT that she’s lucky to have gotten out of town and the town was badly damaged and that no one had any “utilities” to speak of! So, in spite of everyone trying to help, she’s had to do much of the calling and filing and arranging of things herself.

I understand from the neighbors that things are getting back on-line in the town and the services and utilities are back on line. The local radio station web site has stopped blogging detailed information about what’s happening, so we have to rely on information from the neighbors who have already returned after the hurricane.

I can’t say enough good things about Mrs. B’s neighbors, K and B and their son P. They have been really extraordinary in helping us out. In spite of having damage to their own home and having to deal with the results of the hurricane themselves, they have been on the forefront of helping Mrs. B get help, including assisting in getting someone to remove the tree from the house and forwarding important phone numbers and passing on much needed information.

Here’s a picture of the old pecan tree that fell on the house during the hurricane.


Now, just to make life a bit more miserable for her, it seems like someone has stolen her car. But I have to say, her spirit is not daunted one bit. She’s so good at filing reports, that she filed the police report like it was no problem! Of course, no one else could file it for her, not the family or the neighbors because it has to be the “owner of record” of course…

Tree Removal

Well, it's time for another interim post while Mrs B is staying in Arizona.

She's doing fine but is worried about the damage to her home caused by Hurricane Rita. She's waiting patiently for the insurance and FEMA inspectors to contact her. But we've made some good progress... The BIG pecan tree that crushed her home is being removed today.

Her good neigbors K and B found a crew of nice folks working in the neighborhood removing trees from damaged homes. They checked them out and decided to have them remove the trees from their home. Then they called Mrs B to see if she wanted the guys to do the same to her house too. Of course, we said "YES, PLEASE"!

We know the "front of the house is caved in a bit" and there's a BIG crack down the wall, and the front door only opens about 2 ft because the front of the building is out of alignment, but we won't know what the roof looks like until the tree has gone. B said the Army Corp of Engineers is going around and putting blue tarps on roofs for folks.... It's call the "Blue Tarp Service" and we hope they will be able to get a tarp up before any rains come.

K said she took some photos of the house with the tree on it and is sending them to Arizona, but we don't have anything yet to look at... just the other houses as posted on the www.KOGT.com site. Unfortunately, it seems that he is ending that blog now as he has a radio station and plans on giving the info over-the-air... it was the only real news we had of what was going on in Orange and vacinity.

Hurricane Rita hit the bull’s eye! Mrs. B is OK!

Well, today is Saturday Oct 1, 2005 and it seems like a long time since the Eye of Hurricane Rita went over Mrs. B’s (my Mom) home town of Orange, Texas on Saturday morning Sept 24, 2005. Orange is right near Beaumont, Texas for those of you who watched CNN coverage of the event.

The damage to Orange is extensive and thanks to a brave soul at KOGT radio station in Orange, who stayed thru the hurricane and reported on the outcome we know some of what took place there. He continues to post his blog updates and photos of the damage around the area.

What we do know from the KOGT blog is that there’s no food, no water, no electricity, no sewage, and no services in the Orange area although, some things have started to come into town like the National Guard, MREs (food packets), and the start of recovery efforts around the town.

You can see the blog and photos at http://www.kogt.com/.

The good news is that Mrs. B is safe and is staying with relatives in Arizona. She flew out of Houston on the previous Tuesday and if she’d waited another day, she’d have been stuck in the airport. But Mrs. B has the luck of the Irish, and made it out of town safe and sound.

P, a neighbor in Orange has told her “there is a tree on her roof and she’ll need a new roof for sure”. She’s been in contact with FEMA and her insurance carrier and they have been very good about helping her get the claim forms started. She’ll be staying in Arizona while we wait for inspections and such. She’ll have lots of experiences to write about when she gets back on-line again.

Trip Plans

My plans for this trip began several weeks ago when Loretta W, a cousin, invited me to visit. She told me she was researching the family tree, and would like me to join her so we could work together. I never need an excuse to travel, but her mention of genealogy activated my research addiction and I readily accepted her invitation.

My trip will start Monday, September 19, 2005 at 6:30 am. A neighbor will drive me to the Greyhound bus station on Interstate 10 to catch the bus for the three hour drive to Houston, Texas. I’ll spend the rest of the day and evening with my son. Tuesday morning he will drive me to Hobby airport for the Southwest 11:30 am flight to Phoenix, Arizona arriving there at 1:30 pm. A shuttle van will take me to Prescott, Arizona where Loretta will meet me 3:30 pm and drive us to her house in Paulden, Arizona.

I’ll be exchanging Texas humidity and night temperatures of 80; and day temperatures of 97 for 40 to 50 degree days and nights. My plan to travel light is easier said than done, but I’m determined to ‘under’ pack rather than ‘over’ pack. I want to eliminate as much baggage as possible so I don’t have to stand and wait in long lines at security check in.

I’ll write of my adventures and the progress Loretta and I make in our research of family history, so do come back and read about my travels. Thanks to all my readers for your interest in my stories.

Relocating Survivors
I’ve been following the TV coverage of moving the hurricane survivors out of the Astrodome, entertainment centers and church facilities here in Southeast Texas. Some have been offered temporary housing with families. Many have accepted rent free apartments for three months while they look for work, but many of the survivors were put on planes and taken to states like Utah, Illinois, Ohio and California and only told their destinations after their flights were in the air. . The “Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune” will undoubtedly be compounded by Culture Shock some of these people will experience.

I sympathize with those who have lost everything and find themselves in bewildering circumstances. Even after reaching safety and receiving basic needs of food and water, they find themselves in limbo. Although agencies like the Red Cross and Salvation Army along with hundreds of volunteers give financial help and comfort, they face confusion and dismay about where and how to rebuild their lives.

My family never experienced such a catastrophe, but there was an incident that lets us relate to some extent the trials and tribulations of those who have lost all their possessions. When Mom and Dad moved from Palo Alto, California to Los Angeles, all their household possessions were sent by moving van to the house they had rented in Los Angeles. Grandma and Grandpa A lived with the folks and everything they owned was on the van too.
I accompanied Mom and Dad and grandparents as we drove to Los Angeles a day before the van was to arrive at the Los Angeles address. After spending the night with relatives, we went to the house early the next morning and waited for the van to arrive at 9 or 10 a.m. When the van had not arrived by late afternoon, we assumed a misunderstanding about the arrival date was to blame. We voiced annoyance at the delay, but knowing the amount of work ahead of us we took the delay in stride and spent another night with relatives.

As the next morning and early afternoon passed without the van’s arrival, the folks made phone calls to find out why. Being told the van was on its way, it became a matter of exhibiting patience while we speculated on the reasons for such a delay. Toward dusk, we saw a large van from the moving company come down the street and being driven as if the driver was looking for a house number. We all heaved a big sigh of relief as Dad went to show the driver which house to go to. Relief was quickly dispelled when we discovered the van was not the one we were waiting for.

The following day we learned that ‘our’ van had caught fire and was totally destroyed midway to Los Angeles. Years of accumulations, photos, clothing, objects of value, furniture, books, tools, mirrors, family records and things of sentimental value belonging to both grandparents and Mom and Dad was lost. It was impossible to enumerate every thing on the van.

Eventually most of the items were replaced. But the loss of photos has been keenly felt thru the years. As I research our family trees, I often recall a snapshot or an old Kodak picture and wish I could add it to our genealogy records. Names and dates were usually written on the back of the photos; what a treasure it would be to have those pictures now!