Day 250 of 365

There are some down sides to being in a small town. Goodness knows I've written enough about how far it is to the doctors, the stores, the pharmacy, and the movies.

But there are a couple down sides to living close to the river, too. Particularly at this time of year.

Hunters.

Hunters like to sit out on the island or in their boat and hunt geese. Now I'm not a hunter, I don't live with a hunter, and I've never been hunting. Don't even have anything against hunters. Except those hunters on the river that aim their shots toward the houses. On those days when the hunters are out on the river close by us, we tend to stay in the house.

Then there is the fog.

It can be sunny and clear everywhere in the valley, but there are days we are socked in with fog. Can't see three feet ahead of you. I don't mind it so much when I'm home, but if I have to drive in it? I'd rather pass. Fog is bad enough, but when the roads are icy and it's foggy? Even worse. Add in driving in the dark. Driving to work in the dark, in the very dense fog, to another town on the same river (with the same fog), with icy roads, and no street lights because it's all country driving (which then means you don't have any landmarks to help you out) is about the worst driving conditions out there. There have been times when it has been so bad driving to work I don't know where I am. Not looking forward to that kind of day anytime soon.

Today's fog was manageable. Actually quite pleasant to look at. Grass still green, some trees still green and some trees and bushes with the leaves all gone, a clothesline not being used, a bit of fog on the river. And don't forget the owl sitting in the tree on the left.

Early November in Idaho.

Day 249 of 365

It happened the other day when I was at the grocery store and it happened again early this morning.

It snowed.

It's not cold enough for it to stick to the ground, but it stuck to the roofs and porch railings. Just a dusting, but still a day (or two) worth remembering. With time changing back last night it seemed appropriate to wake up to snow. It's darker, it's colder, and winter will be on its way.

In winter I want to be a hibernating bear, keeping warm and sleeping my days away. However, as I reported on Day 24, I'm obsessed about tracking our power bill. So we have our heat system programmed to kick on when the temperatures at night hit the mid-50s in the house. That's pretty darn cold. We never have it set higher than 64 degrees during the day. (Although some days we'll cheat and crank it up to 67.) I imagine some day we'll keep our place warmer, but just not yet.

The snow and the cold temperatures got me thinking about our gardens. The vegetable garden is all pulled up, the wildflowers and perennials have all died off, and the roses are done for and awaiting a good pruning in preparation for winter.

We have one - and only one - flower still blooming. Some of our mums have been killed off by the heavy frost, but there is a lone holdout where it is protected by the eaves of the house.

The last blooming flowers of the year.

Day 248 of 365

It's quite interesting how when parents become empty nesters, pets become the new kids.

I've always chuckled at older folks with their little dogs. But since we're empty nesters and we have a cat, I shouldn't be chuckling anymore. When our daughter was at home, the cat played a somewhat small role in our lives. Not now.

Our cat was born to a barn cat. She was several weeks old, bright blue eyes, a tiny little body, and a big bushy face when she was given to us by one of my fourth grade students. We started out calling the cat Furby because of how her facial features looked in comparison to her body.

She was quite a wild little thing. She only let us pet her on her terms. She didn't even care to be around the three of us, either. Even as she got older, she still had no interest in hanging out with us. She was an indoor cat, an outdoor cat, and a back and forth cat. Didn't seem like she preferred any one over the other.

But now that daughter doesn't live here anymore, the cat acts differently. And so do we.

Granted, she's 10 years old or so now, but she sure has calmed down. She's decided she wants to be a lap cat. She can be sound asleep upstairs but as soon as I head down to the basement to watch TV with hubby, she tags along. Jumps right up into my lap and falls asleep. I go back upstairs - back up she goes, too. She sleeps at the foot of our bed, but for some reason if I'm turned on my side in bed she'll use me as a balance beam. She'll start at my feet and walk herself up my legs, past my hips and plant herself on my upper body and fall asleep. What's up with that? But the even bigger question is, why are we putting up with it?

Because she's become our new kid. We talk to her all the time. We ask her questions. We keep her on a regular feeding schedule. My husband is always looking for good sales on cat food - both wet and dry - and has us buying the best food out there. If we're outside, she's outside. If we're inside, she's usually inside. On cold nights and hot days, in the house is where you'll find her.

She gets to sit on the barstool when my husband is getting her dinner ready. We let sleep just about anywhere she wants. She bawls to go outside at four o'clock every morning and hubby gets up to let her out. She wants back in every morning at six and she gets let back in.

Spoiled little ball of fur.

Day 247 of 365

As I was driving into Boise early this morning for a doctor's appointment I was wondering what it would be like not to have to drive so far for these kinds of things.

We live in the small town of Marsing. The grocery store we visit, the theater, the drugstore, the hospital and doctors' offices all range from about 15 to 40 miles away. (Not the gas station anymore, though!) Whenever we bring something home to eat (like McDonalds - although we haven't done that since Day 226) the food is always cold by the time we get home.

But the most inconvenient drives are the ones to the doctors' offices. Most of my doctors are 30-40 miles from here and they always involve rush hour traffic. If it's a morning appointment like today, I get caught in the morning traffic, and if it's an appointment anywhere from 3:00 on, it's the afternoon traffic.

No rush hour traffic here in our town. While a major highway runs through it, the speed limit is 25 mph. We have stop signs and crosswalks, of course, but no stop lights. And my drive to work consists of highway driving in the country to another town with no stop lights. While I like small town living, I wonder if we'll ever leave. Our house is paid for. My husband is a few years from early retirement. And some days I get darned tired of driving us everywhere.

I just took my husband to the local market again and sat there wondering how many times can you do something before it gets old. I don't go into this particular store with him anymore because he's a talker. He always, always, always strikes up a conversation with someone in there. Whether it's a current or former student, a fellow employee, or someone he knows from the community, he chats away. So I've learned it's best to just stay in the car and wait because it'll be a long time before he's done.

Depending where I park in the parking lot, I get an interesting view that never gets old. The store is plopped right down on the corner. The highway runs right by it, old homes sit beside it, and the high school gym is across the street.

Those old houses have old garages that go with them. A rolling stone may gather no moss, but an old roof sure does.

Day 246 of 365

I went back and read through some of my blog last night.

It's a weird thing reading what you've written in the past. It's like vacation pictures. A few days back from a vacation and you've forgotten half of what you did. Real life gets in the way and memories quickly fade. But if you took a picture, what vivid memories and stories you can tell about what was happening in that photo. (At least that's the way it works with me.) Just like pictures from when I was a kid. I don't remember most of my childhood, but if there's a picture? Yep. I remember that birthday under the patio table umbrella when I was 5 - but only because there is a picture to document it.

As it is with taking a picture for 246 consecutive days. Thanks to those pictures, I remember how I spent these last few months. And thanks to the words I wrote on those 246 days, I remember how I felt. (Pictures aren't always worth a thousand words.)

Unfortunately as I went back reading through some of these posts, I also found lots of typos in my work. It seems the days I struggle with pain and fatigue the most are the days I make the most mistakes. I used to be a perfect writer. Now, not so much. But at least I recognize - albeit at a later date - that I could do a better job editing! I'll continue working on not making silly mistakes. And I'll certainly work on not using so many doggone commas.

I'll keep working on the other  important things, too - pictures, words, and quilts for kids. 

Another one for Operation Kid Comfort.