Jaci Dawn

A Beautiful Day

March 28, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

It was a beautiful day. I’m on the healing side of some major dental work, so staying home and playing in the garden – oh, yeah. The weather was nice enough that I could afford several leisurely hours of work – nothing intense – without having to wear rubber boots and a raincoat.

My Lenten Rose is just beautiful this year! *Also known as an hellebore. I’d love to have more in the back corner (I planted three: one survived).

This Grecian windflower (interestingly, it is in the same class of plants as the hellebore: ranunculaceae) is one of my early Spring favorites. I planted a bunch of them the first fall we had Murphy and he dug up (and ate) most of them. This one struggles up early every Spring.

This is one of our “problem” plants. It is a native Black Hawthorne. Don dug it out of a pasture where it had been run over by a Caterpillar several years in a row. He still struggles to keep it dwarfed, but it has a mighty strong will to grow into a tree. He had to cut all of the upright shoots and shake out the dead leaves caught in the middle.

Looks easy, but there is something you need to know about Black Hawthornes, and that is this: they have needle-sharp thorns. These aren’t thorns like a rose bush or even a Himalayan blackberry has. The thorns on the Hawthorne are about an inch in length, thin, and stiff as needles. They are NASTY.

For that reason, the little birds love the Hawthorne.

This is another problem area: the south fence. I’m working on it. I planted a native Black-cap raspberry which took off last summer (speaking of thorns!!). The old canes are festooned in greenery right now and will soon bear blossoms. I hope to have a good harvest of my favorite raspberry. The new canes have not come out yet, but when they do, I will train them to grow the other direction, over the old clothesline frame. In the fall, after the harvest, I’ll cut the old canes off (I wear welding gloves for this work – they’re stickier than those afore-mentioned Himalayan blackberries and while they’re not as deadly as the Hawthorne, they grab everything and poke).

I’d like to kill those mutant Oregon grapes. I wanted little native ones and ended up with invasive trees. At least I know the werewolves won’t trespass!

The dogs are pretty good about staying to the grassy area now.

Now that I have the raspberry established, I need to work on what grows underneath it: I have sun-loving plants in there and it simply does not get enough sun. I’m thinking native plants, but not quite sure WHAT. More hellebores? I want color. Flowers.

This continues to be a work in progress: my corner garden. I got an arbor for the honeysuckle. My husband says I put it up crooked, but he didn’t exactly offer to help me put it up (he did, however, assemble it for me).

The sky today. It was so beautiful out. Did I mention that?

The female hummingbird (Anna’s, I think), was perched in the Camellia. She air-lifted just as I snapped the pick (she’s smack dab in the center – click on the photo for a larger view).

I can’t keep my hummingbird feeders full right now. I just refilled yesterday.

This is my newest hummer feeder (and a Goodwill find). The birds love it.

This is killing me: the anticipation of the first peony bloom! I *think* it will be this tree peony, but the buds are swelling everywhere in the yard. I’m so excited!

Hostas poking up through the rhododendron detritus.

The variegated hostas are already up.

There are so many more green things growing and blossoms swelling. Tulips are opening and the lilacs are starting to hint. The apple tree is just beginning to put forth buds. I counted three buds on my Oriental poppy. I planted pansies. I planted nasturtiums. The first rhodie is abloom.

The Camellia is fading.

Sir Harvey Albert Presley is ready for his first hair cut of the season. (Isn’t he handsome?)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged black hawthorne, blackcaps, Harvey, Hawthorne, I love Spring, native Black Hawthorne, playing in the garden | Leave a Comment »

Sometimes I Just Want to Write

March 23, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

I really want to go outside and put seeds and seedlings into the ground, but the fact remains that it is *only* the end of March and no matter how nice the weather is, the last official frost date is around April 15th here, and it is guaranteed to rain cats, dogs, frogs, fish, and buckets between now and the end of Rose Festival. It does not help my itchy green thumb that my peonies are sporting large buds on the verge of opening.

The last time I had peonies open in April was in 2003. I know this because I cut several blossoms and played Door-bell ditch with my closest neighbors on the first of May. It was my first May Day in this house and I didn’t know anyone in the neighborhood and figured hand-delivered peony flowers would be a great ice breaker. (They were, I made friends, and I got my vases back – a bonus.)

I haven’t been able to cut peonies for May Day since because they haven’t bloomed before the first of May since.

I will probably plant pansies this coming weekend, and despite all my knowledge of last frost dates, I will probably plant sunflower seeds, too. If the sun stays out over the weekend, I will make a futile attempt to get ahead of the weeds (if my left arm holds out – I’m currently nursing a painful case of “tennis elbow”).

I have been unable to keep the hummingbird feeders filled. I counted four different birds at one of the unpopular feeders out back. I have no idea how many birds are draining the two out front, but I am replacing one of those every four to five days right now. Drained dry.

Summer is coming and I have opted to stay home this summer. I have a big family reunion in Colorado in June (one that was supposed to happen last summer but didn’t, due to a wedding). My reasons are complicated, but first – and foremost, I changed jobs and I won’t have enough time off to go this year. I’ll really miss seeing my elderly Aunts and that weighs heavy on my heart.

This is where being a long-distance grandmother is not fun and I understand what my mom must have gone through when I moved so far away. There is something to be said about living a lot closer to one’s relatives. I guess we make choices and mine was to live as far away and as independently as I could, so I shouldn’t be too surprised that my own children made the same choices. It’s in the blood.

I am loving my job. More specifically, I am loving the parttime. Yes, I love the new job, and I work with great people – no doubt about that. The part I was worried about when I accepted the position – that is is less than 40 hours a week – is turning out to be a huge bonus. I don’t come home stressed out. I have time to do things. I feel stress falling off of me like layers of dead skin. I’m three months into it and still finding it quite novel to have so much time left after work. I have a life!

I HAVE A LIFE.

I haven’t had a “life” for so long that I don’t know quite what to do with it. I’m even making social plans again, something I hid from before. I actually answer the phone when friends call. I go to lunch and dinner.

I have been writing more on my art blog about my life than on this blog.

I’m still bird watching, but I have not been taking photos. I need to grab the camera and go for a birding walk soon. Or just a photography walk. Harvey is getting to be a great companion on walks & is pretty patient when I want to stop and take photos.

Have I mentioned that I now have nine grandchildren? And I’m so young! Someone asked me “how did that happen?” and I told them (straight-faced), “I never had the birds-and-bees talk with my kids?”

I recently painted five of them. They were posed in a photo, looking out at the snow falling on the ground along the eastern U.S. I took that photo and juxtaposed a photo of our house during the snowstorm of 2009. My five grandbabies looking out the window at my house on the opposite coast of the continental USA.

It makes me happy.

Spring makes me happy, too.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Grandchildren, peonies, spring | Leave a Comment »

If I Win Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes

March 11, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

Do you do this? Sure, you know you do this. What if I won $7,000/week for the rest of my life from Publisher’s Clearing House? I mean, if you can wade through the tons of unsolicited junk mail they send you after you send in your original entry (and order, because orders *always* get preference, right?). And then there’s the ton of junk that comes in after you pay the bill in full (because who wants to stretch out a $20 purchase over four “convenient” payments?). And nevermind that the items they offer for purchase are basically the same items they offered you in the 1990’s and 1980’s, and are things no one really wants unless they’re 110 years old with nothing to do but add cute crystal kitties to their collection…

OK – my husband talked me into sending in my entry this year. I was not going to do it because of the above, but he insisted. I bought a 3CD collection of old Country-Western songs that I have not yet opened, but which contains a whole lot of my mother’s favorite songs from the 1960’s and some of mine from the 1970’s. I finally recycled the tons of additional junk mail they’ve sent. If my entry isn’t in that first mailing, then I really don’t want that $7,000/month for life.

That’s too much junk mail to wade through.

But, let’s play the game anyway. You win $7,000/week for life.

After taxes, that’s probably about $3,000/week for life – but it’s still more than you’re making now.

I’d like to become a philanthropist. But I’d want to be able to pick my beneficiaries out at random and without their knowledge that I am making that decision to bless/help them. So, no letters accepted of “please help me because…”

Certain animal rescue organizations would benefit, but not PETA or any other agency that is hypocritical in approach. I would also look very closely at the bottom line: how much money actually goes to the cause? World Wildlife Fund would lose. Nature Conservancy and the Xerces Society would be high on my list.

I already donate to Israel and PBS. I’d merely increase those donations. I stand strong with Israel. And I believe in the mission of PBS. Oh – and NANOWRIMO.

Altruism aside, what would I do with that kind of money? I’ve never been a really good financial planner, but I might hire one. Not that I think money is important (it isn’t), but I do believe stewardship of money is probably important.

There’s the usual “I’d pay off these bills”, but I don’t have a lot of those left after years of struggling through credit counseling services. The mortgage, my car payment – ta da!

Family. Hm. That’s a hard one. Would I even want family to know I won the income? Much as I love family, there’s a horrid side to having money when the rest of family is struggling. I’d rather be able to anonymously help them out and not have them know I have the income. You know, keep family as friends and not get into the whole “loan me some…” Because family can never pay you back and family doesn’t really owe you the loan.

Would I move? Probably not. I’d probably go for some remodeling projects, an addition to the house for visiting relatives…

Quit my job? Not right away. I like my job. I like working.

Move east? I know I just said I wouldn’t, but there’s the temptation to move back to a smaller town east of the Cascades, in the high desert country. And… yeah… that would be very tempting.

We have a number of fixer-upper-jobs pending, and they’d have to be taken care of first. I figure that even if we wanted to move, it would be a year before we could do so: bring the house up to market value, fix all of our rigs, de-junk our life…

I’d buy a horse. I want a full-size lawn ornament. Take on a rescue. I’d definitely get a horse. I’d probably buy him about the time we move east of the Cascades and have land on which he can run.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

What Season Is It?

March 8, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

I woke up this morning at 7:00, er- 8:00, AM. I hate Daylight Savings Time. I’ll spend the next six months trying to get my body to adjust to it, and then we’ll go back to regular time, and for what? So those darn farmers can have enough light in the day to grow crops. They can’t just get up with the sun, you know. The clocks have to change, too.

It was a beautiful day out. Another beautiful day. This is going down as one of those winters that wasn’t.

Why, just yesterday, I talked to my oldest in Alaska and she told me that they were having to truck in snow for the ceremonial start to the Iditarod. This is the second time in the history of the race that the real start has been moved further north from Anchorage, to Fairbanks.

Last year, Juneau was snowed in for months. This year, they truck in snow for the biggest race in Alaska.

By the way, the Iditarod is huge in Alaska. It’s largely ignored here in the Lower 48 (except by people like me, which is why my daughter thought to even mention it. She knows I am a fan of the endurance mushing race).

All that to say this: she ended our conversation with, “I think it is Spring here. We never had Winter.”

I did not take this photo today. But I summoned it out of the archives because today was Bird Bath Day. I didn’t have my camera handy for all the birds who claimed a turn at the bath. There were at least four Dark-Eyed Juncos.

(Obviously this photo wasn’t from today, either. The sun was out and not a rain cloud in the sky, much less a rain drop). I saw a robin in the bath and a Spotted Towhee and a Brewer’s Blackbird.

The Brewers Blackbirds were sitting in the neighbor’s tree, singing. They sound so pretty. I think one of these birds (the lower one) is actually a European Starling.

I love this photo of the Fox Sparrow in the Hawthorne, in part because the Camellia in the background looks like an Easter Egg tree.

I didn’t do much in the yard today. There’s not much to do in March when the weeds are slow and the established perennials are just poking up through the soil. We haven’t passed the Last Frost date, so I don’t want to plant anything. Actually, TRUTHFULLY, I didn’t WANT to do much today.

Harvey, on the other hand, was a very busy bee.

He went hunting.

He went digging.

Yes, our dogs dig holes in our back yard. But so does the Mole.

“Dey’s moles in dere. I can hear dem walkin'”

That’s a paraphrase of a quote my toddler son made one morning when we were commuting down the freeway. We were passed by a van with penguins painted on the side. My son said, “Dey’s penguins in dere.” I asked, “So how do you know that?” “I can hear dem walkin’.”

This is pure, unfiltered joy.

Determination.

Sadly, this sort of enthusiasm leads to this (and this is the CLEANED UP version).

Yes, I have resorted to Dog Shaming after a day of Hole Digging.

Why? Why?

Because this is how it really looks:

Just click on that baby and take a look. Or cue Kenny Loggins. There’s not a dog in our life that is gonna catch that Mole.

Burr hurr aye.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alaska, beautiful day, Bird Bath, birds taking baths, dogs digging holes, Harvey, Iditarod, mole holes, moles | Leave a Comment »

My Favorite Holiday

March 7, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

It is almost Easter! Can you believe it? Easter is April 5 this year, which means it is only four weeks away!

Easter is by far my favorite Christian holiday. It doesn’t come with all the glam that Christmas does, but it is – by far – a more deeply spiritual holiday for me. Easter represents the day that Christ rose from the dead, fully alive, and forgiving all who ever did any sort of wrong (not just to Him, but in general wrong). It’s the day that represents the ultimate Get out of Jail Free card in the ultimate Monopoly game of Life. No strings attached (the Church likes to attach strings, but Easter really *is* no strings attached).

I embrace all the heathen imagery that comes with Easter: eggs = rebirth, lambs = Lamb of God, bunnies = uh…CUTENESS, Easter Egg hunts = KIDS, colored eggs = artistic endeavors… OKAY, already. I’m stretching it. I love May Day, too, and dancing around the May Pole and dropping flowers on the neighbor’s doorstep while playing doorbell ditch.

Get over it.

I even mix bunnies up. A big old lop-eared bunny with a family of little bunnies. And a requisite lamb, of course.

I painted the big bunny. The other two bunnies were purchased at the same Goodwill store, but the one on the left was purchased one year and the one on the right was purchased a year later. They are serendipitous twins on a holiday that has nothing to do with rabbits or hares.

Have you ever read “Watership Down” by Richard Adams? It’s one of my favorite books. Has nothing to do with Easter, but since bunnies are (somehow) an Easter symbol, I think you should read Watership Down. It’s about healing, transformation, sacrifice, and love.

Please don’t look at that filthy blue carpet. The cross is the ONLY cross I have ever come across for sale during Easter. I actually purchased it new from a local K-Mart. Funny how a holiday that is about Christ is not represented by the empty cross anywhere.

Not to worry myself with minor details (these are just ceramic icons, anyway). I found that adorable lamb somewhere and added him to my collection.

I found this goose last year. She has nothing to do with Easter, but Easter is the only place I can figure out to fit her in to my decor. I think she’s pretty cool.

You’d think I’d have a larger collection of bunnies, lambs, and eggs by now. I don’t, because I am the only person in the house who really gets into Easter as a holiday in which to put up decorations. My husband sort of shrugs it off, recognizing only the spiritual side. My children kidnapped my grandchildren and moved far, far, far, FAR away. Hey, no passive-aggressive GUILT stuff going on here, you know? But who am I going to give chocolate bunnies and jelly beans to if my grands live across the continent from me??

I do get the outside door greetings out. Vintage Easter works wonders for me.

This is probably the most recognizable item in my Easter arsenal. She’s a cast iron cake mold. I have the original cake recipe & booklet (it’s a heavy spice cake). I made it several years in a row after my mom died, but then my kids grew up and moved away, and my husband doesn’t eat much cake. You can find a lot of copper or tin imitation molds, but this lamb is the original cast iron mold. She’s worth (roughly) $168 because I have the original Griswold recipe book & she’s in excellent condition.

She’s Not.For.Sale. My mother owned her & I now own her.

Finally, I just want to share this picture because it has nothing to do with Easter and everything to do with family. It is of four of my grandchildren (five are missing).

Circle of love, circle of love, circle of love. Even if the center of the circle looks like he is worried about his position (“Halp! I’m being squooshed by love!!”)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged decorating for Easter | Leave a Comment »

Fifteen Years Ago on March 2nd

March 2, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

My dad called me 15 years ago on the 2nd of March. He was upset. My sister was on a helicopter to Reno. It came on suddenly: she didn’t feel very good one day. the next day, she called Dad because she hurt all over and she was frightened. She was married, but she called my dad. 40 years of a love-hate relationship and the first person she turned to was her father.

And he felt helpless. He didn’t know what was wrong with her. This wasn’t her usual hypochondria. This was worse than her bout with Hepatitis C. She’d gone to the hospital in the afternoon one day, and the next day she was in a coma, on the way to Reno’s best hospital.

Six of one/half a dozen of another: when people are flown out of Ely, Nevada, on LifeFlight, they head to Reno or Salt Lake City. Funny that after all these years, I don’t know of anyone who has been flown to Las Vegas. It’s all the same distance: Reno/Salt Lake/Vegas.

I called my prayer chain. I emailed my homeschool support group. I prayed.

March 3, 2000. My sister, my little sister, my baby sister who made my life both frustrating and richer – the sibling I shared a bedroom with for the first 13 years of her life, was gone.

I had not been able to attend her wedding the previous October. She was so excited to finally be getting married to the man she was living with. He was her second husband, but what number he was in the long line of boyfriends was beyond me. For the first time since her divorce from her first husband, her last name was changing legally.

Sometimes, I stretch to remember her. Her laugh. Her black eyes. Her short brow. Her quick smile.

She was slow on the uptake in a family that thrived on one-upping each other. We took turns being the butt of family jokes. She was an extrovert. She walked in her sleep, stole blankets, and bit me. I dropped a glass light fixture on her. She broke my porcelain cat. She had boy friends and I thought all boys had cooties.

I don’t think you ever get over the loss of a sibling.

Somehow, her death always hurts more than the death of our parents. I don’t know if it is because I was close to our parents and my sister was something of an enigma to me, or if it is because my sister and I shared secrets that noone else could share, simply by virtue of being sisters.

She gave up a child for adoption in 1977, the year she graduated from high school. Somewhere, buried in a box, are the letters we exchanged during that painful period of her life. She wanted to keep the baby. The baby’s father wanted her to wait for him to graduate from college, and then they could get married and have a real family (but she would have to be a single mother until then). Our parents wanted her to give the baby up for adoption.

Did I mention she wanted to keep the baby? She was barely 18. No job skills. Dependent on our parents and the boyfriend who wanted her to wait (but he would send support money).

Don’t disparage the boyfriend: my father told me that that boyfriend called once after my sister died. He was hoping to find her, to talk about the past. I think he truly cared, but he was bound by his family’s dreams for him, too, and those dreams did not include the crazy girl who got pregnant.

He was born in October of 1977 at William B. Ririe hospital. My sister mourned him every October, and after my mother passed, so did my father.

I pass these anniversaries. Some hit me harder than others. Today, I was at work, feeling suddenly depressed. What is wrong? I thought.

Oh. March 3. Fifteen years.

This was posted on my youngest niece’s wall on Facebook tonight. It could be my sister. It isn’t; it is her youngest daughter.

She left behind a legacy of broken family and children struggling for identity. Strong children with her bullish will for survival. Children who hardly remember her. Children who will never know her in her bra-less bandana mini-top over wide bell-bottoms or jeans tucked into hip-high boots. Children who will never remember her with her teeth in. Or out. Children who will never remember her as the beauty she was at the age of 17.

I regret every temper tantrum I threw in my high school years because she: dressed like me, messed up our shared bedroom, wanted to talk all night, tried to draw like me, and – GOD FORBID – wore the same clothes on the same day that I did! I regret every time I teased her.

I treasure every gift she gave me, especially the living ones like Buddy the cat, and my nieces and nephews.

I forgive her for breaking my ceramic cat.

I hope her son who was born in 1977 knows he was loved by both of his parents.

Mary Denise Wilcox – SAM!!! – I miss you. I feel you watching me. I miss you so very much. Oh, hey – guess what!? Jessi wants me to paint a picture of her!!

I’ll do my best, Sam. I promise.

*unedited. I can’t reread this. 15 years is hitting me hard.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Adoption, baby boy william b. ririe hospital october 1977, little sister, nephew, niece, sister, sister's death | 6 Comments »

Gung Hay Fat Choy

February 18, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

We had a little black board next to the door to the “shop” that was built on to the house I grew up in. The black board was the source of our daily instructions and a medium for amusement.

The first “for instance” I can think of is Chinese New Year’s. We’d wake up and stumble into the kitchen for breakfast, and scrawled on the blackboard in our father’s clumsy left-handed print were the words:

GUNG HAY FAT CHOY

Personally, I thought he made that phrase up. He insisted it meant “Happy New Year” in Chinese, but it was too funny to be real… wasn’t it? Turns out, he was as close as he could be. You can write it several ways, but it means (roughly): “Best wishes and Congratulations. Have a prosperous and good year.”

My best friend used out chalk board to post messages of anarchism. She signed her notes: KRAZY KAT

My dad often left notes to KRAZY KAT.

My best friend obviously had no natural fear of my dad, because she replied, often with the most outrageous answers. He couldn’t ground her for weeks on end. (Not that he would have – he loved his give-and-take with Matilda.)

I was thinking about that New Year’s Greeting earlier tonight as we are on the eve of The Year of the Wood Goat/Sheep/Ram (they can’t seem to make up their mind on the ovine nature of the eighth sign of the Chinese Zodiac: is it a goat? or a sheep? It can be a ram either way.)

My father was born in the Year of the Dragon. How cool is that? to be a Dragon? Besides the horse, the Dragon has to be the coolest Chinese Zodiac signs, ever. Dragons are lucky. (Segue to The Neverending Story and the Luck Dragon, possibly the dorkiest animation ever – but I still cry every time Atreyu dies…)

My brother was a Water Snake. I’m not sure what that means, except I remember summers of catching water snakes. “They have tremendous sympathy for others and would like to take actions to help ther <sic> fellow human beings. They are determined to accomplished their goals hate to fail.” Travel China Guide

Possibly why he does Search and Rescue.

My little sister (and my friend, Matilda) was born in the Year of the Pig. “People born in the Year of the Pig are honest and frank, chivalrous and gallant. They have a calm appearance and strong heart. They do whatever they want with their strength. They are tolerant and optimistic, but not until they become your friends can their virtue, advantages and fidelity to friendship be appreciated.” – This would be Mat, to a “T”.

They are quick tempered, but hate arguments and quarreling. They are kind to their loved ones. They treat friend <sic> sincerely and they do not tell lies unless they have to.” Uh – my sister was a pathological liar. But that is another story. And, boy, howdy, was she quick-tempered.

My husband was born in the Year of the Rooster. “The rooster is almost the epitome of fidelity and punctuality. For ancestors who had no alarm clocks, the rooster’s crowing was significant, as it could awaken people to get up and start to work. They are deep thinkers considered to be honest, bright, communicative, ambitious, capable and warm-hearted. Strong self-respect and seldom relying on others are their basic characteristics.”

Um – yea. That’s my husband.

My oldest was born in The Year of the Rat: “People under this sign are usually smart and wealthy and will work for success. They are sanguine and very adaptable, being popular with others. They are also by nature thoughtful, sensible, judiciously and curious.”

Pretty much.

My son was born in the Year of the Tiger. “Tolerance, loyalty, valor, being respected are their nice characteristics. They like challenges and speed and they are active and good at expressing themselves. In their middle age, their fate may be uneven, but afterwards will enjoy a bright prospect. Tigers usually tend to show off before others. They are given to deep thinking and capable of great sympathy, however, they can be short-tempered without interest with long-term endeavor. Sometimes, they come into conflict easily with the seniors and people in authority.”

Our youngest was born in the Year of the Sheep/Goat/Ram (I love how the Chinese can’t decide if it is a sheep or a goat, but they are certain it is a ram). “People born in the Year of Sheep are tender, polite, filial, clever, and kind-hearted. They have special sensitivity to art and beauty and a special fondness for quiet living. They are wise, gentle and compassionate and can cope with business cautiously and circumspectly.” This is also the only page on the web page I have been browsing that turns “cutesy” with a little anime-style goat on it. That is so appropriate for Chrystal.

Our grandchildren are all: Rat (2008), Ox, Tiger, Dragon, Snake, and Horse.

You may have noticed that I skipped myself. And my mother. This is because our Zodiac falls on the sign of the ONE animal in the Animal Kingdom that I truly, wholly, and utterly despise. I can handles snakes, spiders, scorpions, and a whole mess of other creatures, but this one animal is one I consider to be truly evil. I despise it.

My mother and I share the ignominy of being associated with monkeys. I refuse to discuss it any further. Monkeys are vicious, cannibalistic, and just.plain.evil.

It is at this point that if I am to believe in astrology at all, I revert to the “normal” Zodiac. Mom was Aries and I am Scorpio. If you believe that stuff. The mere fact that I am associated with a monkey is enough to discourage me from buying into it at all.

Isn’t enough to just say GUNG HAY FAT CHOY, eat Chinese food, and celebrate another culture for one day? Enough of all this trying to define a person based on the date of their birth. Chill out. Don’t take it seriously. Fate is certainly a lot more that the placement of the stars or the twelve animals of a Zodiac.

I miss the old blackboard in the kitchen. I miss my dad, the Dragon. (Fire-breathing, if you had asked me).

GUNG HAY FAT CHOY!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Chinese Zodiac, Chinese Zodiac signs, Dragon, GUNG HAY FAT CHOY, Luck Dragon, The Neverending Story | 1 Comment »

Why My House Will Never Be Like Dee’s

February 2, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

I have this fabulous friend, Dee. I mean, she is fabulous. She is the Recycle Queen (and she doesn’t live in Oregon – she lives in Oklahoma). She hosts a huge summer music gathering every year. She blogs. She sends out a newsletter (Okay, she’s been a little lax on that end). She loves New Orleans. She unschooled her two children. Dee promotes local music and she does pirate cosplay.

She has always been a role model of organization and housekeeping with a good sense of humor thrown in.

She adopted a dog about the same time that Harvey came into my life. Her dog had been shot and left to die in the wilds of Oklahoma, but he was rescued and healed and now has a Forever Home with Dee and her husband.

But Dee (bless her heart) has always driven me nuts. She sets the housekeeping bar pretty high. I could kill for her black-and-white 1950’s kitchen. It’s immaculate. It’s immaculate even after the weekend music party they host every year. (She’ll deny that and even will offer up stories about missing scissors, but I secretly know better.)

Sometimes I wish Dee lived in my own backyard to help us recycle, reuse, and reduce. She’s truly an awesome person.

But get this: she irons her sheets. Not any sheets (like me): she purchases the ones with the highest thread count. I didn’t even know sheets had a thread count until I met Dee. (She would be proud of the set I just purchased for our bed: I actually looked at the thread count and bought… well, cheap micro-fiber ones. But I *did* look at the thread count. That counts, right?)

She was also the first person to point out to me that there were certain “fashion” rules. Well, she wasn’t pointing it out to me, specifically, but she and someone else posted some diatribes about wearing white pants before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. By God, I didn’t even know there were freaking rules about when to wear white pants! What a thing! Who knew you weren’t supposed to wear white pants before or after a certain date?

Okay, Southern Ladies – cool down!! I grew up with a desire to be a horse. When I couldn’t be a horse, I decided I wanted to be a boy. Problem was, I am very heterosexually oriented and soon enough, I had to come to terms with the fact that I like being feminine sometimes. I even got my ears pierced when I was 23 because I like dangly earrings. I’m not a total flop at all this girly-girly stuff.

OK, yes, I am. When my daughter was a toddler, I tried to discourage her from buying anything pink or Mattel. I protested when bicycle manufacturers only produced pink bicycles the year my daughter wanted a bike (what? No green, red, or blue girl’s bikes??). I lost on every front: my daughter loved her dolls, loved her My Little Ponies™, and wanted to be a ballerina.

Tonight, I was browsing Facebook, and I saw this post (in part):

“Mondays are always my longest work day at home. I did three loads of laundry, including our sheets, ironed the pillowcases and remade the bed, ironed about a dozen cloth napkins and a clean bandana for Shiloh, cleaned out the refrigerator, made a batch of apple spice muffins, tidied the whole house, did the HMA events post and shared in several places, posted in most of the pages I manage, practiced piano, meditated, did yoga, walked for 30 minutes on the treadmill, wrote two blog posts, cooked dinner (General Tsos Chicken, Asian slaw, rice, steamed sugar snap peas, pineapple), cleaned the kitchen, got the aquarium ready for a new goldfish, looked up sales and made my shopping list”

Wait. Did I just read that right? She ironed a clean bandana for Shiloh, the dog?

Dee, I hate you. Now Harvey is going to expect the same treatment. My house is a wreck, I never dust, I can’t remember the last time I baked, and something is growing in the back of my refrigerator that is not my sourdough starter.

But, don’t feel alone. I hate Pioneer Woman, too. Over-achieving, homeschooling, tv cooking show host, book writing, super mom.

But I’m addicted to both of you. I wonder if there’s a 12-step program to help me?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged etiquette, ironing sheets, tea with dee, the pioneer woman, white pants | 3 Comments »

January Gardening

January 31, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

Subtitled: I think I tried to kill myself today. Ouch. I hurt. All Over. Definitely going to have to work up to gardening this year!

We are in the midst of a mild El Niño winter. Today was one of those days free of rain and relatively spring-like outside, and so we both decided we would work in the yard.

Don pulled out the blackberries that have taken over our vegetable garden site. We haven’t attempted gardening for the past two or three years, and between the grass and the blackberries… It’s a mess.

This is the project for this summer: the huge pile of blackberries, ivy, and trailing nightshade that has taken up residence between the veggie garden and the shed. I don’t even want to think about it, and after today, I’m pretty sure Don doesn’t want to think about it.

At least he got them out of the vegetable garden site.

Himalayan (or Armenian) Blackberries are the bane of the Pacific Northwest Gardener. These are an imported blackberry that is especially aggressive and noxious. Unfortunately, the berries are wonderfully delicious, and you will often see berry pickers along the sides of the roads, picking these when they are ripe. So a word to the wise: BUY your blackberries from a reputable grower. There’s a plethora of wonderful, non-invasive, tasty blackberries! My personal favorite is the Boysenberry, but the Marionberry is delicious, too.

Me? I attacked two flower beds. The old asters, peonies, and even some of the noxious grass got dealt with. This particular bed is green with purple hyacinths; they come up early in the autumn and stay green until after they bloom in early spring.

But look at this: one of my tree peonies is putting out leaves! Ack! It’s the last day of January, silly plant!

I kind of like this season: I get a sneak preview of what is coming up under the left-over, last-season debris.

I also dead-headed this flower bed: peonies, gladiolas, a lavender, and much more. The grape got hard-pruned earlier. The hardest part is picking up the oak leaves.

We don’t even have an oak tree in our yard. Or a fir tree. But winter and spring are a battlefield of wind-borne detritus from neighbors’ yards. I hate the oak leaves: they provide shelter to snails and slugs. Ugh.

I wanted to tackle the island, too, but I just wore out. So it remains a mess of evening primroses, overgrown oregano, peonies, irises, and Russian sage. We’re going into a week of rainy weather, so it won’t get done for awhile.

I just hurt too much to do any more, Don had already given up the battle (Don:1, Blackberries:0), and the yard debris container was full plus a spare container. It was just plain time to go in.

This is what Harvey did while we gardened. Isn’t that nice? It’s a hole to China. It can’t possibly be that he was hunting the elusive mole.

Have you ever tried to wash a 90-pound dog’s feet off while he’s pulling back from you? No way was I letting him track his fuzzy mud-filled bear paws into my house. I won.

I really don’t know what to say about this. The filbert has four-inch long catkins already.

Or this. Yes, that’s my Camellia. Blooming. In January.

Tomorrow’s job is to clean and refill all the hummingbird feeders. I can’t seem to stay ahead of these greedy little beasts. (I had the wrong lens on to take a photo of her and I think she knew it.)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged gardening in winter | Leave a Comment »

Adjusting to a New Job

January 29, 2015 by Jaci Dawn

I have a theory on learning. The days that are easy are not the days when you are learning. The days when you make a lot of mistakes and you go home ready to cry – those are the days when the learning is taking place. I have learned to embrace the bad days and weeks because they are the times when whatever I needed to absorb was getting absorbed.

This is in no way a correlation to elementary school. I am an adult and my learning processes have slowed. When I was a kid, I learned quickly and painlessly (except for New Math). My next homeschooling/anti-common core article will deal with that debacle and the similarities of common core. I lived one. My grandchildren are living the other.

Back to the subject at hand: I have had a “bad” week at work. It has been one of the most challenging weeks and I felt like I was going the proverbial one step back after having taken two steps forward. I anticipated this would happen when I switched jobs. I didn’t think – not for a moment – that leaving the old job would entirely remove stress and difficulty out of my life. I was giving up one sort of stress for an unknown factor of stress in a new position.

I have been through multiple software changes in the past 18 months. I am 57 years old and all of these changes have been changes from software to some sort of internet-based programming designed to make life easier for someone, not me. Every single change has been challenging, frustrating (usually because of the lack of online and real-life support and the lack of a hard copy manual). I have had very little training on any of the systems changes and sometimes had to just go in and figure it out for myself.

My change in employment means one more series of changes, all in software or online programs. The laws and rules of Real Estate remain static and I have that down pretty well, but the actual day-to-day working of the particular programs a particular company chooses to employ as tools… Add to that the frustration of language!

My previous coworker was from southern India. Her native language is Tamil. She speaks The Queen’s English (she loved it when I explained to her what that meant: not American English, like I speak, but British English, with its different pronunciations for common words). Her English, however British, is marred with a thick Tamil accent. She still thinks in Tamil.

My latest trainer was from Belgium. Her native language – the language in her head – is French. She thinks in French. Her English (which is considerably more Americanized than my Indian friend) is still punctuated with a heavy French accent.

So, in addition to learning new programs, I have had to be adept at understanding the accents and pronunciations of coworkers. It’s been interesting. (I happen to love languages. Can’t speak another language worth a darn, and I know just enough French, German, or Mexican to get into trouble. My Japanese really sucks: I can count to five.)

Today, I almost brought all my notes home so I could rewrite them on my own time and absorb them. Almost. I set them aside at five minutes to close and told myself: Don’t panic now. It’s only been six weeks. You are expecting too much of yourself. Allow the mistakes. Ask the questions. No one has screamed at you. Yet.

A couple people have strongly suggested I did something wrong, but they have been very patient with me. I apologize that I am stumbling through. I refuse to *not* ask questions, however. I will pester to death anyone willing to answer me (my Belgian trainer has been an Angel!). I am working on an office manual so the next person (a long time down the road because I am not leaving this job any time soon) will be able to step into my position and just open a book to follow the steps.

It’s not just real estate programs (who knew what a plethora of industry-specific programs were out there?!), but the supporting programs as well. The day-to-day processes of onboarding new agents. Understanding how the new company handles referrals. Remembering the steps to input new sales or listings. Emailing everyone about meetings and – gasp!! – picking up the phone to make calls to people.

One thing I love about this new job is that they subjected me to an EQ (Emotional Quotient) Test. They know – and understand – that I am an Introvert and that I operated best in a certain environment. That’s huge to me. My past employer never acknowledged that. They knew that (because I was rather outspoken on the subject – take that pun!), but they did not embrace that.

Tonight, I am tired and I wish the week was over. My brain is stretched. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I feel like I am not learning or comprehending the job.

Thankfully, I have learned that it is OK to feel that way. This is the week it all gets absorbed into my brain and I am learning the job.

Unlike New Math. I never did get New Math.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged learning | Leave a Comment »

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