Sunday, November 11, 2007
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Update -- summer, one more time
My flowers weren't planted until the middle of July because that's when the landscaping was done. Fortunately, we hadn't had a frost yet, in mid-October, so they were still blooming! I also had some moss roses, but they were pretty much done.
Update -- Chuck Anderson recovering in Phoenix
Just wanted to send a quick note to concerning my dad (Chuck Anderson). He has been in the hospital intensive care unit since Monday afternoon. He has a disease called Myasthenia Gravis. (There is a lot about it on the Internet). My feeble understanding of it is that there are antibodies that build up and attack the muscles -- most commonly, the eyelid and limbs, but I guess it can attack any muscles (except the heart) and weaken them. When it attacks anything pertaining to breathing and swallowing, it is then called "Myasthenia crisis."
Dad started having difficulty breathing and swallowing and so, on Monday afternoon, I took him to his neurologist, who recognized that he needed to be in the hospital. They called the paramedics to transfer him to St. Joseph's (a hospital that specializes in neurological problems) -- which is the best place to be in our city with Myasthenia Gravis!
He is receiving what they call plasma exchange -- takes out his old, bad stuff and puts in new donor plasma. He started improving almost immediately. He was so close to being put on a ventilator, but he escaped that. He is doing so much better, but feeling quite weak. He is to have five treatments -- one each day. Today [Friday], is his last treatment.
Dad is still in the hospital. It it is looking like he will be coming home tomorrow [Saturday]. He is breathing very well, and swallowing soft foods just fine. He is still very weak but we are sure that will keep improving. All is well for now, thank goodness.
Mom is holding up real well. We are so glad he responded so well to the treatments. They feel he will make a complete recovery.
Update -- thinning a forest in Oregon
It's raining here in Oregon, so it must be time for a contribution to The Bulletin.
Fourteen year old Arbor and his grandpa Roy continued the tree thinning project on our land this past summer.
In 2006 we contracted with a "shovel logger," working with a faller, to thin one of the areas with a fair amount of timber in it. The "shovel" is an excavator with a grapple on it for grabbing logs or trees and stacking them or loading log trucks. The faller is a guy with a chain saw who cuts the trees down, and sometimes limbs them and bucks them into logs, if there isn’t someone else to do that job.
This year, Roy and Arbor took on the logging work themselves, working with a faller to cut the trees down, and a self-loading log truck operator to load and haul the logs. Roy uses a Kubota tractor with forks on the loader and a winch on the back to skid the smaller material to a landing where it can be limbed, bucked, decked and loaded. After limbing and bucking, the branches, tops, and small trees are stacked on slash piles to be burned after the rains start in the fall when there is no danger of the fire getting away. Some of the oak logs are stacked for future use as firewood.
Arbor uses our D3B Caterpillar dozer with a winch on the back to skid the bigger logs to the landing, make roads as needed, and push slash and brush to the piles.
The self-loading log truck has a crane with a grapple to pick up logs and load onto its racks. It can also load another log truck if it can be positioned within reach. The self-loader usually loaded a "short logger," and then loaded himself. The short logger is a log truck with two short trailers instead of one long one. Sometimes Arbor would use our excavator to load short logs on Burper, our old dump truck, and move them to different landings so the self-loader could work more efficiently.
Our land isn't very good timber land, for the most part. The soil doesn't support fast growth, and the southwest exposure gets too hot and dry in the summer. We are thinning the wooded areas to open it up so grass can grow for pasture. We are trying to save as many well-spaced oak and ponderosa pine trees as we can, along with a mix of incense cedar, douglas fir, big leaf maple, madrone, ash, and various other trees and shrubs.
Some of the land is steep and rocky, while other areas are wet and boggy. Some places have few trees and others have many more than the land can support at maturity. Most of the heavily wooded areas started with oak trees that can make it through the dry summers on a southwest exposure without shade. They provide nursery shade for douglas fir and incense cedar, which then grow up through the canopy to reach the sunlight. Eventually, they shade out the oaks and leave them standing dead. The valley ponderosa pines grow well in the wet clay areas, much different from the ground the same species occupies in eastern Oregon on the dry side of the Cascades.
All of this diversity makes logging less efficient than in even-aged stands of the same kind of trees. It also takes a lot longer for the trees to grow than it does on better forest land. Some of our land was logged by others before we bought it, leaving us with an obligation to reforest it or convert to agricultural use, which we are doing with our goat ranch.
Because we are clearing land for farming, we can employ Arbor to do work he enjoys but otherwise wouldn't be allowed to do at 14, or even 17. He's learning how to get the most from our little dozer and old dump truck, as you can see in the pictures. Sometimes he gets a little more than the most, but fortunately he and Roy like working in the repair shop, too.
Next: Clearing and fencing to the top of the butte.
We have sunny weather again, so we're trying to beat the rain getting the electric goat fence up the butte. Arbor and I pounded about 140 T posts in for one 2,500 foot section with a 1,000 foot elevation gain today. Now, most of the posts are in for the whole 7,000 foot fence. We'll still get lots of exercise pulling the five wires down the section we worked on today, and the other side where it is even steeper. The rain is supposed to come back sometime Thursday, so we'll be hard at it till then. I'll send some pictures and stuff for The Bulletin when things slow down again.
Update -- wood cutting at the Ashby farm
Woodcutting of late reminds me of picking rocks in the fields with Pa. He would drive the loader through the field while Richard and I, along with whatever town kids we could recruit, ran hither and yon across the field, tossing rocks into the loader bucket. Invariably, after several hours of this, when the pickers were nearing exhaustion, Pa would say from his perch on the loader seat, "I just enjoy picking rocks." And now I get to drive the loader and haul wood back to the farm while everybody else cuts and carries.
There is also a reason all my chain saws are so old. When one stops running, I get to go to my new shop and fix it, while everybody else cuts and hauls wood.
The new shop looks like a disaster area. I am in the process of moving equipment from the old shop and rearranging both the new and old parts of the shop.
Today was a cold day, so I decided to spend part of it puttering in the shop. In the old days, I would have spent a half hour firing up the wood stove, then been half frozen for the next couple of hours until the shop warmed up. The freezing period was usually followed by a couple hours of roasting when the wood stove finally got going.
Today the shop was somewhat warmed by the in-floor heat, which I have been keeping on a low setting. I simply turned up the thermostats for the fan heaters and life was good.
The entire shop is still heated by wood, but the heat comes from the same remote hot water furnace that heats the house. So all I have to do is toss in some wood a couple of times a day -- wood that I didn't have to cut and carry, thanks to all my wonderful woodcutting helpers.
We didn't get any pictures this time. I don't think I even have any good anecdotes. The only thing that comes to mind is how weird it is that we all have so much fun doing something that is such hard work. Running the chainsaws and moving all that wood is pretty hard on my office softened hands, back, arms, legs...
Having said that, I wouldn't miss it for the world. The fact that I know how much Dad appreciates the help makes it worth all the hard work, but to me, that's not even the best reason for doing it.
Wood cutting weekend is one weekend when I know at least my brothers and sisters will be there to hang out with. It seems like there are fewer of those weekends every year. Not only is it good for us adults, but I know our girls enjoy being at the farm, too, and memories like these will be with them forever! --Wyatt Johnson, Moorhead, MN
Bless their hearts for all the work they do for getting us ready for the winter. We appreciate each and every one that shows up. I was especially happy to have help in the house this year! --Donna Anderson Johnson, Ashby, MN
Update -- Ozzie's officially adopted now
Greetings from Maple Grove. It's time for a long-delayed update from Eric and Leona.
For the most part, we're both doing well. Leona is at Maple Grove Junior High School for the year, teaching 8th and 7th graders. It's technically a substitute position, but it'll last the whole year, which is great, as on Tuesday I was laid off from my job at Boston Scientific.
They were losing money left and right and, unfortunately, they had to let some people go. About 800 people locally, to be exact, and being a support person, I was high on that list. It's not too bad, though. They gave us all a very generous severance package and I now have close to three months to find a new job. I will miss working so close to home, though. I'm going to be looking for work in accounting or some sort of production support, like reporting or tracking.
On the lighter side, Leona and I got a dog! His name is Ozzie and he's an 8-year-old Boston Terrier. We actually got him a few weeks ago, and he made his Bulletin debut in Donna's wonderful recap of the woodcutting weekend, but I wanted to wait to tell everyone about him until the foster-to-adopt time was up. It is now, and he's officially ours.
He's a wonderful little guy, even if he is a bit of a "Momma's Boy." He follows Leona wherever she goes. He's very well-behaved and does as he's told, for the most part. It's so nice to have a dog again. I've been wanting to do this since we got the house.
Otherwise, things have been pretty boring around here. No kids yet. I think that's what really makes life exciting, but we'll see someday.
Keep up the great work on The Bulletin! Even if I forget to write for months at a time, I still read it each and every week.
Update -- the Swensons at large in Utah
Update -- getting ready for Florida
Tom's doctor called today and said the results of the blood tests were good (except for his Vitamin B-12 and iron, and those issues can be taken care of with a doctor in Florida) so we will be leaving about Saturday, if we can get things in order.
Our plans are indefinite, as to the stops we will be making and when, but we will be traveling via Minneapolis.
Grandkittens! What a grand idea, I thought. No fuss, no bother -- just cooing over the pictures Ken and Kyra would send. It never crossed my mind that Miss Jerrianne and I would find ourselves rearing a kitten almost the same age ... and this one would be a do-it-ourselves project.
First, there was the matter of a name. "Little Kitty" didn't cut it and, although my suggestion that they call him "Monkey" fit him to a T, Miss Jerrianne and Miss Kathlyn didn't buy it. One day I thought "Gunsmoke" was going to be his name, but that didn't last, either. The next morning Miss Jerrianne was calling this little bundle of Siamese energy (and mischief!) "Tai Chi" ... or maybe it was "Thai Chi" ... because Siamese cats come from Thailand and Tai Chi is a Chinese martial art.
Not to worry ... Miss Jerrianne soon discovered that "Maita'i" is the Tahitian word for "good" -- and she was thinking "My Thai" would mean he was her Siamese cat ... since Thailand is the modern name for Siam. She supposed it would be simpler to spell it "Mai Tai" (a tropical cocktail) or it also might be spelled "Muay Thai" -- for a Thai martial art that uses fists, feet, knees and elbows in boxing one's opponent. She thought, when we finally met, that's how it might go -- plus teeth and claws.
For two weeks, Mai Tai lived downstairs in the studio, but for the past few days he has been spending a lot of time upstairs. Oh, my! He has a lot to learn! Respect the resident cat: ME! Eat out of your own dish, use your own litter box, stay off my favorite perches -- and don't scratch the furniture! In spite of my hissing and growling, he just doesn't get it. He wants to play. I want to maintain my dignity. He strews MY toys all over the floor and never picks them up. What a brat!
He has learned a few things. He speaks fluent (and incessant!) Siamese -- with a Chicago accent. And his language! My goodness! He walks nicely on a leash -- except when he winds it around the plant stand and the flowering maple crashes to the floor. Today, he learned how to get a drink from the sink and that it's fun to play in the bathtub, even if he does get his feet wet. He thinks it's fun to pull off the "spiders" that hang down from the "spider" plants and chew on them. No, no!
We are still working out our differences. Oh! I must go -- he's running off with my toy mouse!
Day to Day R
The Matriarch Speaks W
We are approaching Thanksgiving and I began to think...
In a short paragraph --
Mail it to me soon!
Who Is This?
Let's Play a Guessing Game: Whenever it is handy to do so, we will run a picture of someone of the subscribers or staff members of our e-magazine. Tell us who you think it is -- we will let you know who was the first to guess it right -- and the correct guess -- in the following week's Bulletin.
How many can you identify?
Editors' Note: Correct guesses appear in bold face type and incorrect guesses in normal type.
This is really a "guess" ... Would it be Blanche, Jim Miller, Gilbert and Jean McCalla?
Donna Anderson Johnson
I looked at this picture before and wasn't sure it was me [Jim Miller] and Blanche, but looking closer, guess it is us. The other two, I can't but give a guess. Could it be Gib and a girl friend of his? The cars or the big spruce tree don't count in the memory process. If anything comes to mind will let you know; sorry I couldn't be more help!
I think that is Blanche Dake on the left and Jim Miller next but the two others, I don't have a clue! I thought it might be Gilbert McCalla and one of his friends, but looking closer, I'm not sure. But that is my guess.
When I first received this from Ginny I said that it is Blanche and Jim and I have no idea who the other two are... I did answer Donna by saying she is right with the first two but I did not know the second two. I was pretty certain that it was not Gilbert and Jean, but Jim thought it looked like a coupe that Gilbert once owned, so maybe it is Gilbert. We aren't sure. --DMA
"El pastor Americanos! Mucho Problem-o!" Domingo complained, again and again.
He was referring to the two sheep herders from Utah who had recently been hired to help out with the heavy workload. Big on talk and little on work, they'd arrived from Salt Lake City in an old, beat-up, pickup truck: a faded blue-green half-ton with step sides. The pickup box was cluttered with debris, including a generous supply of empty beer cans.
The first of the two sheep herders, late twenties or so, I'll call "El Americano." He brought his sheepdog with him: a German Shepherd. He said she was an outstanding dog.
"She can ever-so-gently bring even a single ewe with twin lambs out of a tight spot," he said; "she's patient and she's gentle."
In spite of the German Shepherd's talents, however, he wisely kept her tied to his pickup. "El Americano" seemed familiar with the problems and the politics of sheepdogs during lambing time.
The second Americano shepherd was a warty old redneck. He wore a dirty baseball cap with the words "Old Fart" embroidered above the visor. What kind of character would wear such a cap? I wondered, and his first day on the job!
The two came by our house evenings, and "El Americano" spun tall tales late into the night while the older man, still wearing the offensive cap, alternated between drinking black coffee and snoring.
"How did you train your dog?" I asked -- when I was able to slip in the question between tall tales.
"I talked to her," he said matter-of-factly.
A short answer for a long-winded guy, I thought. (However, from then on I started talking to Checker, teaching him to associate words with actions; it turned out that "El Americano's" advice was good.) He went back to telling of lost treasures in the desert.
"I read a lot of history," he said, "so I know where to look."
Zane Grey and Louis L'Amour?
"I found a Spaniard's cannonball on an old battleground," he said. "It's in the bottom of a ravine -- too heavy to pack out."
"... hm-m, 's neat!" I said.
"If you don't believe me," he said, "I can take you there and I'll show you!"
He thinks I don't believe him?
"It's in Southern Utah."
Okay, but I'm not really free to go right now.
"But that's nothin'!" he said. "When I was herding sheep in Arizona, I found the hidden entrance to a lost cave." He looked over to make sure the old man was sleeping; then, lowering his voice, he continued: "It was so dark inside I couldn't see nothin'! So I lit a match ... and there was a huge stack of gold bricks!"
"Yeah!" he said. "But, know what?"
"... no, what?"
"Nobody believes me."
"... no? why?"
"When I was done herding sheep that year, I went back to get the gold" -- with this, he slouched back in his chair and threw his hands up in the air. "I couldn't find the cave! I never did find it!"
He leaned forward again and put his elbows on the table; resting his forehead in his hands, he sighed deeply.
The old man snorted and woke up.
"El Americano" and the old guy had their own way of doing business. They were "wiser and more experienced" than the rest of us, so they found it unnecessary to follow directions. "You people do things the hard way!" they'd say.
"El Americano" took a special liking to driving around on the four-wheeler "to check the sheep." On one such morning, he buzzed the pregnant ewes while Esteban was moving them gently through a gate. In the press to flee, the ewes knocked over three or four sections of the new feed-bunks, breaking a number of uprights in the process. (The pile-up didn't do the pregnant ewes any good, either.)
Domingo and Esteban were steaming mad.
That evening, I looked out the open door of the sheep shed to see Jack and "El Americano" standing face-to-face in heated conversation. Soon, Jack was repeatedly poking his pointed index finger into "El Americano's" chest.
Within the hour, the two men had packed their bags. As their pickup bounced down the driveway, the empty beer cans rattled and rolled around in the back. The German Shepherd, one ear up, one flopped, was silhouetted on the seat between "El Americano" and the old man as they drove off into the sunset.
Jack, Domingo, and I stood in the driveway watching them go. "I knew the day they came they were no good!" Jack said. "You can tell a man by what's in the back of his truck!"
Domingo was pleased -- so pleased that he decided he'd stay on for the remaining two years of his employment contract.
Don, Patty & Gracie Go to Newfoundland (Almost)
We set out to celebrate our 10th anniversary and take our beloved Newfoundland, Gracie, to the "homeland." Newfoundland was our intended destination but we fell short by just 60 miles. We made it to Cape Breton Island, just off the coast of Nova Scotia, when we learned that driving 5,000 + miles in 15 days was a lofty goal. We ultimately decided to spend an extra day in Cape Breton and forgo the 12 hours on the ferry just to spend 24 hours in Newfoundland to say we'd been there!
Gracie got to swim in all five of the great lakes, the St. Lawrence Seaway and the Atlantic Ocean just 60 miles from the Newfoundland coast. (We have pictures to prove it but a wet dog in one lake looks the same as a wet dog in another lake, so we'll spare you those!) We took a ferry across the St. Lawrence Seaway and Gracie was the toast of Quebec City. There are many, many international tourists who went home with pictures of her!
In Cape Breton, outside a pub, we met a roaming gnome who had recently been kidnapped from a garden in Scotland. His caretakers took his picture with Gracie to prove he was OK and making new friends in his travels. It will probably show up on the Internet somewhere!
Patty fell in love with Tim Hortons -- a Canadian coffee shop that has the best cranberry-blueberry-bran muffins ever! They are an appropriate "cupcake size" and are so good you can't believe they could be good for you. When we crossed the border back into the states and checked out the U.S. counterpart, "Dunkin' Donuts," we could only get pastries or white flour blueberry muffins as big as your head. Everything in Canada was smaller -- a regular drink at Subway is only 12 oz., and restaurant portions were half of what we are used to here. The Canadians were smaller too ... wonder if there's a connection? We hear a Tim Hortons franchise is planned for Plymouth -- we'll be their first customers!
People at the campgrounds were always amazed that we could travel with such a big dog in such a small trailer. It has a queen size bed, couch and fold down table and just enough floor space for Gracie. Her big brother Angus used to travel with us in that same trailer. His 170 lb. body took up every square inch of the floor, but Gracie's svelte 112 lbs. can stretch out quite comfortably!
Our sweet Gracie developed a slight limp the last few days of our trip. When we returned home we were heartbroken to learn that she has osteosarcoma (bone cancer) that has spread to her lungs. Her prognosis is poor (weeks) but we are committed to keeping her as comfortable as possible for as long as we can. We are so thankful that we will have this trip and photos to remember our special girl when she is no longer with us.
On a warm Sunday in November, Rich, Phil, Gator, and I decided to rent motorcycles and go touring. There was a fellow a couple of blocks from the back gate of Keesler AFB who rented motorcycles out of his garage. When we got there, he had only four left, three 50cc Yamahas and a 90cc Honda. If I remember correctly, the Yamahas were $3 per hour and the Honda was $4 per hour.
Gator drew the Honda, because he was the only one who could afford it. We were only making $98 a month, but Gator's uncle sent him expensive cigars by the boxful. Gator couldn't smoke them all, so he sold the overrun, keeping him in spending money. We should have all gotten combat pay for what we were going to do next with those motorcycles.
The owner gave us lots of instructions. Ride on residential streets until you are familiar with the bikes. Stay off Highway 90, because the Biloxi section is one of the five deadliest stretches of highway in the United States. Stay off the beach; there will be absolutely no riding my motorcycles in sand. You will pay for any damage to the machines. We were used to following orders, so we listened carefully.
Ten minutes later, we were cruising east on Highway 90, heading for the beach at Ocean Springs. Highway 90 was three or four lanes of narrow, pot-holed pavement with no shoulders and no warning when a lane was going to disappear. Hurricane Camille had left it in shambles.
The boredom that started us on this little jaunt disappeared instantly. Traffic was bumper to bumper, going about 50, which was the absolute, screaming max for the little bikes. None of us dared slow down to turn off.
A massive dump truck herded us over the bridge to Ocean Springs, running so close behind us that we couldn't see the driver over the hood. Traffic slowed to 30 in Ocean Springs and we gratefully got off onto a side street, which took us to a deserted beach. About a buck and a half of wasted rental money later, our hearts were settling back down to a normal rhythm.
The beach looked inviting, and how could it hurt to ride down it a little way? Soon we were all spinning doughnuts, throwing sand in all directions. We all tipped over a few times, but who cared? Then Rich slid back far enough on his rear fender to get the little Yamaha to pull a wheelie. Once it came up, it kept right on coming and flipped over backward, demolishing the rear fender.
When the three hours we had paid for were gone, we were back with the bikes, fender straightened, and the sand washed off. The owner glanced at the bikes and said, "The fender will be $17. They've all been in the sand. Don't ever come back here again." I wonder what he would have said if we had all gotten run over on Highway 90?
Celebrations & Observances
This Week's Special Days
This Week's Birthdays
This Week's Anniversaries
More November Birthdays
More November Anniversaries
November Special Days
Miss Hetty's Mailbox:
Dear Miss Hetty,
Have you ever been embarrassed? I was VERY embarrassed this morning. I was thrilled to see Sarah and Mike Steinhauer (I thought), with LeRoy and Vonnie Dake. It was Amy and Ken Harrison. Not seeing the girls very often, I thought I was looking at Levi and Kira's mom, Sarah.
So, I said TO AMY (thinking it was Sarah), "Where are they?" ... she looked so bewildered.
I said, "Who did you leave them with?"
She answered, "You must think I am my sister." -- which I did.
I was so embarrassed! But she forgave me, saying that a lot of people get them mixed up.
Keep Us Posted!
Please drop Miss Hetty a line and tell us who, and what, we've missed. And how about a report (photos welcome) of YOUR special celebration?
+ LETTERS TO THE EDITORS?
The Bulletin has arrived. Thanks very much. I will enjoy it all. I have been down sick for over two weeks with bronchitis and lots of coughing. Hope you are well. See you are going to move. It looks nice!
Last Week's Bulletin Review JKL
First of all, I want to thank Ardis so very much for taking time to share the weddings of Duane Miller's three daughters. The reason I was so glad for the coverage of the weddings is because Jim and Blanche Miller have been part of my most treasured memories, beginning in 1959.
We would be so welcome in their home, and we loved going there as they had these three children who were so well disciplined that it was a joy to be with them: Steve, Duane and Sharon. I remember how quiet Duane was, and now to see his family touches my heart. So interesting to study each one of the pictures Ardis managed to get, even if she did forget her camera for the first wedding. I was so glad to see the recent picture of Duane with Ashley and Ingrid. He has only changed in size and hair color, but otherwise I think we would know Duane anywhere.
I think of how Jim would appreciate seeing this of his family in The Bulletin, and how he would want to be sharing it with Blanche, but that is just not to be. I can still see those three children out in the watermelon patch trying to choose one. Now they are parents and grandparents. Is life going too fast, or what?
WOW, I was so happy to see the picture of Donna Mae and Beaver with the other two people I didn't know. Wouldn't it be nice to have a smile like Donna Mae's? Makes you feel happy just looking at her.
So the Indermarks are relocated to that cute house in Phoenix! They get in on a wonderful winter. Jim will be busy working while the rest of the family enjoy basking in the sunny south temperatures and pools, I suppose. We wish them well. I can't speak from experience, but I know my sister Ruth and Kenny Kitto really love their Apache Junction home (in a suburb of Phoenix).
Oh no, don't tell me that Jaxon Hill is one year old already! What a sweet picture and what a sweet smile! Already walking means nothing can stop him now. Mom will be busy trying to keep up. Probably his brother and sister will have to watch their stuff now. We do appreciate updates when it seems so few Bulletins ago we had the news of their birth.
Another shock was seeing the pictures of Madilyn Larson, and that she is 9 months old already. Looks like she's practicing climbing so she can go full speed ahead when she finally takes those first steps.
Thanks to Wyatt, we have a picture of the goblins at their house. It must be as big an event to the parents as to the children. We had a few ring our doorbell this year, but most of our neighborhood is growing past Halloween. Roy always drops in a big Hershey bar, and one for "the dad and mom."
We loved that picture of the cousins! They are so much the same age that they will be taken for sisters or twins, eventually. It would have been so much fun to observe their reaction to one another as they were introduced. Keep us posted on how they grow up being the greatest of friends.
I hardly expected to see what I saw when I (scrolled down), turned the page of the 25 page Bulletin. TRICK OR TREAT! Sorry, we recognized each one. It would have been a busy Patty that created all the costumes. She was probably shocked she could get into such a small one this year.
I missed the Where In The World is Weston? this time. But, I see he was busy avoiding the tickling, and trying to keep the little costume on. Don't forget, Weston, you have to share your next event with us. You have a certain style of writing that keeps us captivated.
I had to laugh at the change of pace here, from cats to dogs. I never grew up with either a dog or a cat. I had two brothers who begged and begged, to no avail. Now I am sure it was all the work involved that our folks thought about.
The GUESS picture. I took my biggest magnifier, but still couldn't figure out who they might be. Looks like they were all dressed up, ready to go.
LTD Storybrooke didn't let us down this time, either. We keep wondering when he'll get too busy to write, but so far so good. Their newlywed daughter and husband were where I was Sunday, but I mistakenly thought it was Levi's mom, and asked her where they left the children. Oops, wrong! The girls look so much alike.
My great niece Krista will be celebrating her 8th birthday next time, so I was interested in the picture of Wade celebrating. Green frosting, green shirt! The guitar was probably examined thoroughly by Capt'n Jack when he got The Bulletin. We'll probably be hearing about it! It looks just like granddad's, and again I wish The Bulletin had sound.
Lori, we have been thinking about you, and worrying, too, when we hear of the fire news in your southern California. Thank you for mentioning it in your thank you note for birthday wishes. The fire is so unpredictable and so scary.
Thank goodness the cow couldn't read labels if it said Chicken Soup! It was a CHUCKLES, but it looked like a genuine, honest to goodness cowboy project. Kenny Kitto probably got a twinge of homesickness to see that.
The Quotation for the day stepped on my toes! About the dog and all his friends because he wags his tail instead of his tongue. Ooff daaa!
I think The Bulletin was about 10 pages short this time. Do you need us to send in more contributions? Or do you have a space limit set? We will take all you give us, you know.
Great Halloween issue, and once again we want to thank you for the hours of sleeplessness that each issue costs our editors. It is so worth it.
Editor's Note: The Bulletin is considered "full" based on "weight" rather than "volume." We try to maintain a fairly consistent download size, but depending on the amount of text and the number of pictures, the page count can vary considerably. Last week's issue was a full size issue.
To search a name in Who's Who or Who's Where: click on the link to open the page, then use CONTROL F on a PC or COMMAND F on a Mac. To search for a second occurrence of the name, use CONTROL G on a PC or COMMAND G on a Mac. (This works on ANY web page with text, unless the text is converted to an image. Chances are, it works in your e-mail, too.) HINT: Search by first name only, as most entries list the family name once but do not repeat the last name for each family member. In Who's Where you can search on state or city names, too.
Quotation for the day: In war, there are no unwounded soldiers. --José Narosky
EDITOR'S POLICY: If you wish to subscribe to The Bulletin, simply send me a statement of that fact. If you wish to keep receiving it I hope you will contribute to one of the columns that are running in this family epistle (at least occasionally!). My e-mail address is firstname.lastname@example.org
This Bulletin is copyright Dorothy M. Anderson; the contents are also copyrighted by the authors and photographers and used with their permission, and the contents are not to be used for any commercial purposes without the explicit consent of the creators.