The new ladies

 

Without further ado, please meet the new ladies ........

........below are Feckless, Aimless, Pointless, and Graceless......

......or maybe it's Feckless, Graceless, Aimless, and Pointless....

...it could be Gracless, Pointless......

....Feckless, Aimlesss...

or what the hell!

Say hello to the new ladies! 

I don’t think a lot about Mom anymore – it’s not that I don’t think about her, it’s just that the thoughts I have now are fleeting thoughts that often bring a smile to my face.  But with Thanksgiving coming up, for some reason I’ve been thinking of her more and more…I don’t know why.  It’s not like Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday or anything; maybe it’s because her birthday is in November.

Anyway, on Holidays of Importance, Mom always went all out.  She started about a week before, and boy, could she set a table!   She had Irish linen table clothes that to be painstakingly washed and ironed days before the holiday.  Diane and I were pressed into service to clean and polish all the sterling --  from flatware to candlesticks to her sterling tea service. 

Then about three days before the event, she Set The Table.  First a liner beneath the linen table cloth, then we set all the place settings with the flatware (and let me tell you, there wasn’t a utensil Mom did not know how to use and where to place correctly).    Then out came the cut glass relish trays and salad bowls to match the Waterford cut-glass goblets at our plates.  Then her antique Meissen platter for the turkey and dressing.  It was an Event.  We always dressed for the occasion.  In fact in the photo below, Diane is sporting her favorite Thanksgiving outfit.  Dad took us shopping and we picked out an outfit.  Unfortunately Diane bought a mini-dress that did not meet Mom's approval (way too short),  so Mom cut it off and made into a shirt!

Mom was born in 1925 into a farming family in South Dakota.  She was the last of 4 children; her mom was close to 50 when she was born.   Her family moved to Phoenix when she was still a toddler.  Her dad had lost an arm in a threshing accident, and he became a dairyman in Phoenix. 

When the Depression hit, the family lost everything:  Mom remembers her dad selling the cows off one by one.  It got so bad that Mom moved to town to live with a family where she worked as a  maid and companion to their daughter.  In fact, Mom never graduated high school.

And that really affected her outlook on life.  She worked hard to better herself -- she learned how to dress and bought the finest clothes; she learned impeccable manners; she taught Diane and I the same things.  But over the years, I've let a lot of these traditions go by the wayside.  I still KNOW how to set a killer table, but I'm just too worn out and short on time.  I am sorry that I didn't work harder to carry on Mom's traditions...but oh, well.  Happy Thanksgiving!

ToDo List

If anyone cares, I have tomorrow off.  I have a few things planned, or perhaps a few things I'm dreaming of.  In no particular order, except, perhaps importance:

1. Disbud the Littles (I hate, hate, hate disbudding.  Any screaming you hear will be my own)
2. Clean the car (trust me.  this is best view)

     3.  Priority mail goat registrations/transfers  to NPGA (because...um, I'm a slacker

          and  haven't  done  it yet)

     4.  Tarp goat pens because we are supposed to get rain. (don't want Littles to get wet)

     5.  Take SamDammit for a brisk, energetic walk in the morning. (to wear him out)

     6.  Rehome Pedro's rooster.  He's been here 20 minutes and I've already gotten one call from a neighbor.  (unless SamDammit gives him a heart attack first)

     7.   Pay bills and balance checkbook (who knows I may find surprise money)

Any bets on what gets done?



(and showing in Rosamond)

I don't get much of a chance to show my goats: It's hard to get the weekends off and it's a lot of work for a "one-woman" show.  But I put in for weekend off and made plans to meet a friend up in Rosamond at one of our local club's Halloween shows -- "local" being a relative term; it was almost 500 miles round trip.

I loaded my goaties, got my iPod (all 11 songs), and hit the road!  California has such a varied terrain (most of it dry and arid) that there's always something new and fun to see.  After making it through the Los Angeles traffic, I headed up through the mountains....

 got off on Hwy 138 to cut across the valley to the high desert. I passed the Mormom Rocks

which always amaze when I go by...

as soon as you get over the hills, the valley looks pretty flat....

and after four hours or so, goaties and I arrived.  The truck was a little worse for the wear,

but goaties and I were in fine shape.  

 I was sharing a room with my good friend,

 Barb "Crazy Barby" Lutz,

 seamstress extraordinaire....

....who had convinced me to enter the costume class with her.  She would make the costumes; I would supply a goat.  So Saturday, she showed her goats (Platinum Acres Cowboy Chase below)....

 ...and I showed mine (Sassy and me in the junior doe line up)...

...then Sunday......

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may we present

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the Sesame Street Pygmies

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Goat Friends... judging in Longview and Showing in Rosamund

Goat people are a different sort of people.    They're not just goat farmers:  they are CPAs and teachers and executives and law enforcement and nurses and court reporters (me!) and physical therapists.  And some of them are my best friends...we were brought together by our goats, but have found much common ground.  In fact, most of the blogs I follow are goat-related and some of my favorite "on line" friends are goat folk too...coincidence?  I think not!

So in Longview, I wandered on down to the showgrounds when my show was ready to start - to see old friends and meet some new.   (As a judge, I can't go to the showgruonds early while the other judge is still judging)   It's funny that i may see some of these people three or four times a year, usually when I'm judging or at a board meeting, but we are kindred souls and our friendship picks up just where we left off a months before.

This particular show was an Oktoberfest show, and the Northwest clan put on a show.  There was a pumpkin carving contest, a remote fart machine, a costume contest...oh and some goats, too!  The kid's costume contest was darling, of course, especially the line up of parents on the other side of the arena holding cameras.

But my very favorite costume is one worn by friend and fellow judge, Joyce.  She was dressed as "La Cabra,"  which has been a work in process for some time now.  This one was spectacular -- her son's shiny red disco pants, full mask, and cape -- and her goat was the round girl....priceless!

But all good thing must come to an end, and Sunday evening with many hugs, off  I headed to the airport to fly home, hang up my travel hat, and wait for another adventure...

La Turista Treks On

After my impromptu cheering for the arrival of the Honor Flight, I headed down to pick up my car and drive to Longview.  I had a rather short drive -- less than an hour and arrived at my hotel before noon.  I wasn't judging til late in the afternoon, so I still had plenty of time.

I checked in and I had a room with a KING BED ALL TO MYSELF.  I immediately felt the need for a nap, but was able to resist because I wanted to explore the town.  I'd picked up a local map and brochure in the hotel lobby and was ready for action.

Whenever I travel, I look for something noteworthy to see.   I embrace my inner dorkiness, and even though I'm usually alone,  I head out to see the sights. 

I've been to the rattlesnake museum in Albuquerque.   In New Orleans, I did a graveyard tour in a mule-drawn buggy and  the D-Day museum (where I saw a USAF flight jacket identical to the one Dad gave me years ago and still have).  This summer after I judged in Hagerstown, Md.,  I spent an afternoon at the battlefield of Antietam (did my dad proud by watching the entire documentary and a reenactment).  Driving in Texas once, I became addicted to stopping and reading the roadside historical markers.  Those Texans have a marker for nearly everything, and I was compelled to stop at as many as I could, in fear that I'd miss a good one!   (I was also able to stop and do a little holiday shopping at Bubba's liquor store and home-made candle shop).

Longview isn't very big, but after a quick trip to a local grocery for lunch stuff (one bbq'd chicken breast, apples, iced tea), I saw the sights -- er, the sight.  Of course, everyone knows that Longview is world renowned for having the smallest, architectural suspension bridge. (oh, you didn't know that?)  It's for squirrels, built over a busy road, in an effort to keep the squirrels from being hit by cars.  I'm sure squirrels actually do use it (I didn't get to see any), but do they use it instead of the street?  I mean, do they run  up a tree, across the bridge, then back down a tree, instead of just crossing the street?  It remains a mystery.

Then I walked around the historic downtown area (four blocks) or so and learned a lot a little about the town.  It's a small town.  I had gotten up really early to catch my flight, so I felt justified in heading back to the motel for that nap.

 A king-sized bed, alone, no one to share it with.  We've a king bed at home too, but it gets a little small for all six of us.  Yes, that's right, six.  Two people, three dogs, one cat.  That's 20 feet, 3.5 tails, and 5 other faces to avoid with their morning breath.    So I laid down flat on my back and spreadeagled as far as I could: Luxury.  Then I decided to gather all the pillows where I wanted them, and prop up and read.  I finished off this hedonism by watching reruns of SNL, lying sideways on the bed, eating an apple.   *sigh*  It was glorious.

Finally it was time to head to show...

A Letter to My Daughter on Her 21st Birthday

Dear Jessica,

I can’t believe that you are actually 21 years old today. I have spent the last couple of weeks trying to write you a Letter of Great Importance and Wisdom, but it reads a lot like those little inspirational books you see at the local bookstore. So instead I am going to tell you the story of this gift I am sending you, followed, perhaps, by a few Words of Great Importance and Wisdom.
So you should have opened the gift by now and see that it’s an antique topaz ring. It was Grandma’s ring (you, Aunt Diane, and Grandma all have November birthdays).



Well, this topaz ring was given to Grandma on her 21st birthday by her beau at the time, so that makes this ring 65 years old. (G’ma was born in 1925). Grandma always made a big deal about the ring -- what an expensive gift it was at the time, etc., etc. And it is a big, pretty stone. Since Aunt Diane was a November birthday as well it was generally assumed that she would be given the ring on her 21st birthday. I was a little put out of shape because I really liked the ring and Diane always got everything (in my view anyway).



Enter Aunt Florence and Uncle Joe, who weren’t an aunt or uncle at all, but rather old friends from when Grandpa and Grandma were stationed in Germany in the 50s. Believe it or not, Aunt Florence was born in November as well! And when Diane turned 21, Aunt Florence gave her her topaz ring. It was a smoky topaz and about the size of a dime with scalloped edges (I didn’t like it all).



But, sure enough that opened up Grandma’s topaz ring for me! And on my 21st birthday, I got the ring and G’ma and I took it to a jeweler to have it reset and maybe put a little diamond on either side.



At the jeweler’s, to Grandma’s horror, we found out that the ring was a fake. It’s a really nice fake and set in 14k, but it’s still a fake. But I liked the ring so we ended up fixing the mount on it, and I wore it for a long time. We did not, however, hear much about that boyfriend anymore.



And now on your 21st, I am handing this ring down to you. It might not be a real topaz, but it’s an heirloom. It comes from my mother and has a really great story.

Now for my words of wisdom: I could take up pages telling you how to respect yourself and live life to the fullest and be thankful for what you have, but I think my advice comes down to this –



Life is not about making good decisions; it is about making good choices. When you are given one, try to choose the best one. There aren’t always right and wrong choices, sometimes only a better choice. It may not be the easiest or most pleasant choice, but you are a smart girl and know right from wrong. Follow these words and you’ll do fine wherever your life takes you…



I love you,

Mom