Look in the mirror. It's not about money; it has NEVER been about MONEY.

What happens when trust meets with betrayal?
Honesty with deceit?
Integrity with conniving?
Compassion with lies?

Inevitably someone loses something important.

One's first instinct is to feel sorry for the one who has gotten taken advantage of, who has lost out to a less-than-honest person, who has obivously given up something valuable while the other person has gained. 

Such has been my lot on many more than one occasion.  My daughters tell me I'm the most gullible person in the world. 

However, for those who would feel sorry for me, or pity me, please do not.

Consider this:

Of the two persons, which has really lost something of greater value? 

The money is valuable, yes.  Property, its usefulness and potential, is valuable, yes of course it is.  One's personal internal resources, spent worrying about and trying to help someone else, have an intrinsic value of their own.  So yes, there's a cost; sometimes caring about others is expensive.

On the other hand, there's much to be said for being able to look at one's reflection in the mirror every day for the rest of one's life, to look into the eyes of the person there, and know that person is NOT the one who took advantage of someone who was only trying to help.  That person in the mirror is NOT the one who deliberately and willfully told untruths to someone who believed them to be genuine statements of reality, and responded with compassion and a sincere desire to make the situation better. 

While I have 'lost' considerably often over the course of the years, and the consequential financial strain has been significant (not to mention being considered a fool of the highest degree), my losses are as nothing when compared to the losses I would have incurred had I betrayed my own trust; had I been deceitful to a trusting soul; had I connived and thrust my own, or anyone else's, integrity aside; had I shown no compassion even after knowing I had been lied to. 

So really, who has suffered the greater loss?

In the eyes of the world at large, and probably most particularly in the eyes of those who consider that they have gained at my expense and are no doubt chuckling at the gullibility which enabled them to do so, I am the loser. 

The eyes in the mirror, they see things differently.  The view I see in my mirror is infinitely more comfortable and comforting to me.  I can live with looking into those eyes every day for the rest of my life whereas I would have extreme difficulty looking into the alternative eyes had I chosen otherwise. 

Realistically speaking, I reckon those others aren't going to have any trouble whatsoever with their own mirrors, as they have the triumph of succeeding in what they set out to do to look at there.  Me, I wouldn't be able to look, but there you have it.  People's views differ. 

I cut my losses and get on with things as best I can - and as long as I can get along with my mirror it's all good.

WHEW! FEAR CONFRONTED

I am one grubby mess! 

Time for a shower for this woman I do believe. 

No, I didn't get the whole roof cleared off, barely a beginning, but progress is progress sez I!  If all I can do is a little bit at a time, that's still a little bit that's done, so I'm not going to beat myself up over it. 

Today, the most progress I made was 'simply' confronting my own fear and getting on with what has to be done in spite of it.  That in itself was no mean feat. 

As dusk deepens, the birds become more vocal which reminds me to breathe a prayer of thanks to the dove that kept me company for a good part of the time I was up on that roof.  I personally believe it was an angel.

And now that I've done all I'm going to do up there for the day, I can relax for a while and contemplate the cosmos and the meaning of life.

Right. 

I'm going to take a shower and read on in my book about the times of the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt for as long as I can tolerate it.  Or until I fall asleep.

This day was not as physically demanding as I'm hoping tomorrow will be, but it was exceptionally demanding in terms of fighting internal dragons.

PLAN A: THE ROOF - HOLY SH** !!!!!

My lifeline.  View from the top of the hip of the roof through my friendly leaves, down to where it disappears around the corner of the north dormer (with the narrow roof ledge in front of it twelve feet from the ground) and runs in through the dormer window to where it's secured inside.

It's kind of hard to see the knot but that's my lifeline going out the window of the north dormer.

You have to look close to see it, but that slender line means safety to me.

Here it is, coming over and around to the south dormer!

Rubbish heap growing ... when all is said and done I'll sort out the cedar shakes I want to keep for art projects, bundle up a lot of them to use in my chiminea, and the rest will be hauled to the DUMP !!!!!!

Not being one to use such language, I shocked myself when, upon inching my way through one of the south dormer windows, the first words through my still-chattering teeth were, "Holy Shit!"

Little old gramma ladies aren't supposed to say stuff like that.

Right now this little old gramma lady is going to SIT STILL, inside, in my dining room, on my backside, for a few moments, smoke one of my five daily cigarettes, and try to regain my equilibrium.
...

From the safety of my little scaffolding I've gotten the whole of the edge of the roof stripped and sealed.  Somehow that just wasn't all that frightening, once I got myself into the mindset that the quaking would go away in just moments once I got busy - and of course they did so all was well!

That part being finished, it's time for me to get to the rest of the roof. 

The first thing I wanted to get done was to install my safety rope.  It's a BIG rope, and heavy, and awkward to manage at the best of times.  Since I can't adjust my scaffolding alone, and since it's set so that the edge of the roof is at about waist high for me, and since clambering up onto the roof from it is just too much to expect from myself, and because I can't afford to buy myself an extension ladder at the moment, my roof access is in and out of the dormer windows. 

The rope is my lifeline.

After solidly securing one end to the inside framing of the north dormer, I heaved the bulk of the rope out onto the roof just outside the window.

I tell ya:  that space is a LOT smaller than I recall.  Of course, there's no great big scaffolding platform this time around ... makes a difference, that does.

By the time I got the coils of the rope out the window, I let it set there while I brought up the rest of the things I'll need and stashed them in the attic (which ain't a piece of cake either because I have to climb a ten foot wooden ladder to get up there; carrying heavy and awkward things just makes it worse).  Up went part of a big roll of that black stuff, my fanny pack with staples, staple gun, bottle of Pepsi, cell phone, a hammer, and my pry bar.

Not being able to procrastinate any longer, I reached out of the dormer window and pushed the coils of rope as far as I could without falling out, then eased myself out onto that ledge of roof part way and pushed the coils a little further so as to make room for my own self.

The ground is only twelve feet from the edge of the roof, but with no scaffolding it sure seemed a lot more than that. 

I was already starting to sweat, and no the day is NOT all that warm today. 

Pushing the coils of rope before me as best I could, and hanging onto the dormer for all I was worth, I got the coils up onto the top of the dormer, where its roof joins the roof of the house, easing myself up the roof regardless of the fact that I was shaking like a leaf, sweating like a racehorse, and felt very much like throwing up.  It seemed to take forever and ever and EVER, one inch at a time.

When I got myself to the top of the dormer I could lean up against roof and reach the top ridge. 

Note to Kussin Kurt:  Those trees you kept telling me to cut down were my salvation. 

Clinging with one hand to a sturdy tree branch that just happens to clear the roof line right there, I used the other to pull that heavy length of rope up to the top of the roof, one coil at a time, praying all the while that it wouldn't slip (or me either, although that friendly tree branch helped).  My pry bar did slip loose and is now lying on top of the dormer, where it may spend the rest of its natural life if my courage fails me.

Once the coils of rope were on the ridge of the roof, with some of them looping down on the other side, I grabbed another sturdy tree branch with my other hand and just stayed there like that for a little while, letting the sweat drip off my face onto the roof and trying to still my shaking self enough to be able to continue. 

Continuing was a given:  I sure as hell wasn't going to go back DOWN that north side of the roof, not in this lifetime.

So there I was, hanging onto those tree branches for dear life.  Finally it dawned on me that, while they could hold me forever, I could not hang onto them forever and had best get a move on before I lost my grip. 

Thank God for strong arms and handy tree branches.  The only way I was going to get to the top of that roof was to use those strong arms, advance my grip on the sturdy branches (just the right size for me to use), and haul myself up that way until I could heave myself up and over the top.  At the top was the rope, kind of in my way, so I maneuvered it through a couple of those branches and tried to slide it down the dormer roofline.

Once I had a safe space for myself, I sat there panting and sweating in fear, more droplets falling onto the dormer, and still shaking to beat the band.  It was not fun, although I have to say it beats the hell out of the condition I'd have been in had I lost my balance or my grip. 

Once again those sturdy tree branches held me stable until I could move again.

While sitting up there in their midst, I remembered back to almost twenty years ago when they were no taller than I am, and it was intensely satisfying to me to note that they had grown to exactly the right size and shape to be there to help me in my hour of need.

Having the rope to steady my descent, now that it was over the hip of the roof, made it somewhat less terrifying, even on that little ledge in front of the south dormer. 

Pushing the rope coils before me and pulling my fanny pack along behind I inched my way through the dormer window along with the rope, sat on the window sill for a moment, stepped down onto the attic floor, and a loud, "Holy Shit!" hit the rafters above me. 

And now, now I'm no longer sweating, my hand is rock steady as usual, my breathing has returned to normal, and I didn't throw up. 

No time like the present to test out the lifeline by going back out the north dormer, collecting my prybar from atop it, and continuing up and over the hip of the roof again into my companionable tree branches. 

I have to say I really appreciate the fact that they're there right now.  They will have to be trimmed away as I go, which makes me a little sad but it will be necessary.  In the meanwhile, I very much like having them. 

One final word:  Terror be damned - I must do this; therefore I can do this; therefore I shall do this.  I have no viable alternative.

BOOKS



I've sorted my books and have four boxes to go OUT.  This is a second sorting, as I've already disposed of several boxes full.

Hopefully I'll hve a chance to take them to the bookstore in Bemidji where my daughter Heather lives before I get so totally fed up with all the clutter around here that I simply take them to the dump. 

That bookstore is great!  They'll take your books (the ones in good shape) and use them as a discount on the books you want to buy. 

Depending on how many of the books that are filling my four boxes meet their standards, I figure Heather might be able to get at least a few for herself and Zachary (her son) and Bob (her husband) at a mighty fine price. 

I've got about 350 books left after the weeding out process. 

As my grandchildren learn to read they will inherit most of the older books if they want them, a lot of which I grew up with.

Now that I have spcae on my bookshelves I can begin to gradually search for, buy, and shelve more of the books I really want to have on hand.  Over the course of the years, and all the moves, many of my favorites have been lost or left behind along the way.  It's time to replace the ones I love and find others to add to that collection.

WOOLY BEARS WERE RIGHT THIS TIME

Last fall I posted when I found a wooly bear caterpillar in SEPTEMBER (as opposed to June the year we had an AWFUL winter).

Now that I can be pretty sure that our 'winter' is over I can probably safely say that the little guys were right about it being a nice winter.

I have for a long time paid attention to when I saw them migrating for their winter hibernation - early is bad; late is very good; August is about normal.  Naturally this has been solely my own hypothesis and totally NOT based on anyone else's ideas or logic. 

I used to make the drive to the Valley on a fairly regular basis, which is where I generally saw them, crossing the highway.  Because I think they're cute little things I avoided running over them (as opposed to salamanders, which I WILL run over every chance I get) and so watched for them. 

Then I heard that they are harbingers of the winters, and began paying attention to when I noticed them first. 

Having no idea at the time that the size of the stripes was supposed to be what I was looking at (not to mention that it would have considerably slowed down my drive time had I stopped to examine every one I saw) I just kind of unscientifically noted the general time of year I could expect to have to avoid running over them. 

Now, of course, I have researched the hteory and tend to agree with those who say the stripe is a fair indicator of the winter PAST, not the one to come.  That only makes sense to me. 

HOWEVER ... having said THAT, the fact that I saw none crossing any roads last year until September (the winter before was a terrible one and I was afraid they had all perished) together with the fact that last winter was mild (to put it mildly) encourages me to be on the lookout for them this summer, just to test my personal hypothesis. 

We shall see what we shall see I reckon.  I hope not to see THEM crossing my path until at least very late August, but if I see them any time soon, I'll start getting my wood pile ready, invest in lamp oil and candles, and stock up on other winter necessities.

Garden Update!

I have a beginning on my garden!

In the big flower pot (and I do mean BIG) I planted onions and potatoes, both of which are coming up.  The onions are bigger than the potatoes right now, but that is likely to change.

In the pots I used to have geraniums in, flanking the front door steps, I this year planted carrots, which are coming along nicely although still very small.  They aren't flowers, but their tops are very ferny and will be lovely right up until I pull the carrots!

Beets are barely poking through the dirt in one of the front flower beds; hopefully they'll take off and grow like crazy pretty soon.

Along the back yard fence hang small gunny sacks.  Inside the gunny sacks are big pop bottles with the ends cut off and the tops removed (bottom side up) filled with potting soil and sprouting onions at this point.  I'll add carrots as soon as I get more of the sacks constructed and buy more potting soil. 

Buying more dirt (what a concept - I live in one of the best farming areas in the world!) will also mean I'll be ready to put the tomato, pepper, bean, cucumber, and squash sets into their containers as soon as I buy them.

More dirt will also allow me to expand the tire container up a notch with another tire as soon as those potato plants are big enough (it will be a while yet; they're still pretty little) and then yet another notch in due course.  It's a technique I heard about years ago but have never tried - so this year I'm going to see if it really works! 

I threw some chive seeds into a corner of my courtyard, back by the poppies.  If they grow, I'll have a nice chive plot to harvest when I cook out there.  One definite advantage is that they (like onions) produce pretty purple flowers when they're allowed to grow all the way up.  Round purple spots of color will be great in that corner if they manage to survive and thrive. 

Well For Heaven's Sake!!!!!

Blogs are wonderful things.

I was just reading some of my older posts and realized that I have more to do than I remembered. 

Nothing like a nice long LIST to keep me busy, huh? 

A couple of the things I had almost forgotten about doing are projects that I can do with my feet on the GROUND (as opposed to roofing) so I'm thinking I should maybe get to them on one of these windy days when I don't want to have to depend on my lifeline (a great big rope) to keep me on the roof while the wind tries to whoosh me off of it.

One of the 'back-burner' projects is turning that window into a door. 

Getting it done will:  1)  Give me a very satisfying immediate access to my courtyard, and this is the time of year to thoroughly enjoy it; 2)  Get the door and frame OUT of the kitchen (out of my way, in other words) and into place in the wall where it belongs; and 3)  Allow me to mark at least ONE of my projects off my list in a matter of one day, as opposed to the MANY days it's going to take for most of the rest of them.

Here I've been letting myself feel discouraged at the lack of noticeable progress, and the solution to THAT is right there in front of me every time I go into the kitchen. 

Sometimes I have to wonder about myself.