(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

The Traveling Twit on Tour, Part I

I had a judging assignment in Longview, WA., last weekend, flying into Portland.  I'm actually one of those people who don't mind traveling alone a bit.  In fact, I enjoy it.  Everything is a new adventure for me, I'll talk to practically anyone, and I seem to be lacking any type of an embarrassment or shyness gene.

I landed in Portland and as I came out of security, both sides of the hallway were lined with with men and women holding American flags, posters, and placards.  As I walked through I asked one of them what was going on.  And he replied, "An Honor Flight."  

The first part of the lineup was a Vet's Harley rider's group with their members lining about 15 on each side with their color guard.  Then came other VFW members, some civilians, boy scouts, etc.
I got about halfway to the rental cars, then I turned around and went back.  I didn't have anywhere to be until 5 p.m., so I decided to check it out.  I'm a sucker for anything military.

So I asked again what was going on.  Fifty or sixty WWII veterans were on an "Honor Flight" and returning from Washington, D.C.  Here's what I found out:

"Honor Flight Network is a non-profit organization created solely to honor America's veterans for all their sacrifices. We transport our heroes to Washington, D.C. to visit and reflect at their memorials. Top priority is given to the senior veterans – World War II survivors, along with those other veterans who may be terminally ill."

 And they don't charge the veterans a dime.  How cool is that?

So I decided to hang around and welcome the heroes home.   The flight was delayed for an hour, but that gave me lots of time to chat people up.   I met some really great guys from the Tualatin VFW Post 3452  (who tried very enthusiastically to get me to join them for breakfast afterwards at the hall, but I declined!).  They were mostly Vietnam vets.  And when they asked what I was doing in Portland, they were terribly  impressed to meet a goat judge.  Well, who wouldn't be?

And then, here they came -- all the World War II veterans:

and everyone clapped and cheered and waved flags and I cried (just little).  Look at them.  Aren't they awesome?  God bless America!

My Day Off!!

Yippee! Today is my day off! 

Got up about 7 a.m...read the paper in bed with the hubs and some coffee...showered and got ready for the day...ate breakfast...fed the chicks...fed the goats... played ball with SamDammit...faxed tax info to Donna...put the mail out...packed my lunch and the dinner I made for Liz into the car...put the mail out...started a load of laundry....loaded the dogs into the car and went to work...saw that SamDammit had knocked over the poison bait in the back alley and may or may not have ingested some....  called Poison Control...  called the exterminator company...got NO EFFING RESPONSE... called the vet...dogs seemed okay so I called a vendor...sold some crap...wrote a purchase order...sold some more crap...called the vet back...called the health insurance about my dad...sold more crap...called my sister in re the call to the insurance (twice)...left work at 1 p.m. ...waited for the vet's call back...on vet's instructions, dosed the dogs with 1 tbs of hydrogen peroxide each to induce vomiting (looking for the green color of rat poison)...waited for dogs to vomit...watched Weiner vomit clear, yet, very foamy fluid...waited for Sam... called vet back because Sam didn't vomit...got the okay to observe SamDammit for 24 hours... whereupon in 24 minutes Sam Dammit decided to upchuck a lovely pile of clear vomit....I watered the all the plants on the back porch...changed the laundry...met Teri C at the house and went to the barn to give her a  riding lesson... upon leaving the barn at 6 p.m. noticed that Ilean had a swollen ugly hock...called the barn manager... buted Ilean with a note to call me in the a.m...drove home...picked up the mail...went to the bank...came back...fed the goats...fed the dogs...got a call from the husband...he is coming home...just started the grill to make some burgers....

Yippee!  Today is my day off!

The Travails of the Traveling Toilet Seat

I am not a terribly fussy person (I don't think).  And when it comes bathrooms -- toilets, to put it more precisely --

1.  I want it clean
2.  I want it private
3.  I want it not to move.

When we moved into this house, we put new toilets seat on all the toilets, taking care of my first requirement.  And they held up admirably for about ten years. We've been here eleven.

The privacy was a little harder to handle as a previous owner was a stained glass artist who removed two large glass panels in the master bath when she moved.  There is a gaping hole right in front of the toilet, facing a large tub.  If, while seated on the potty,  you lean forward and look  out that "window" to the right, you are able to converse with whomever is in the shower, as they have a similar large opening from the shower to the tub.  But over the last eleven years, Allan and I have managed to keep our privacy.

Now, I also like a stationary toilet seat.  Sometime in 2010, I noticed one night that the seat was loose.  So I mentioned it to Allan, who said he'd fix it. It just needed a nut.   A few months after that, as I sat down one midnight, I swiveled sharply to the left and nearly fell off.  Now the whole bolt was gone.  More mumbling, more midnight promises. 

It wasn't long after that, that when visiting the establishment, I fell right in.  There was no seat all.  Oh, wait.  Yes, there was -- it was leaning against the wall.  Louder, nastier mumbling and a  quick under-the-covers kick.

Now I had the option of going downstairs in the wee hours, or balancing delicately on a very slippery, slide-y seat to wee.  Well, over the next three months, I achieved an incredible sense of balance...before I finally went out and bought a new seat, compete with very lovely and tight bolts.....  Ahhh, heaven.

Except for that whole privacy thing...

**Now some of you may wonder why Allan didn't fix the bolt or why I just didn't do it myself.  Our bedroom is on the second floor, so we usually just use a spare bathroom on the first floor: Until bed time.  Sometime between the hours of midnight and 5 a.m., I would often feel a need to visit the potty.  Due to anatomy, I am the chief "sitter" in the house. I'd sit, spin, stumble back to bed, and mumble to please fix the damn seat.  Of course, we'd forget by the time the alarm went off.