Ringing in the Years...

I love jewelry. Most particularly, big rings and necklaces. My necklaces run the gamut from buffalo horn to demure pearls. I wanted today, however, to show you some of my favorite rings.


This is my wedding ring, my favorite ring, of course. Excy designed it. When he asked me what I wanted, I said "Diamonds!" I already had one vintage solitaire and three small stones from marriage #1. Excy said he wanted a ring to compliment "my long slender fingers." (What a sweetie). He had designed a jewelry shop the year before we met, so the owner, Marley, made the ring from Excy's sketches. The engagement part is yellow gold and fits into the white gold band like a puzzle. After a few years of fitting them together, we had them soldered. I told him that was symbolic, too! Nineteen years later, it looks as new as when he slipped it on my finger (this was taken last year).


I wish this photo had turned out better. This is rose-gold, and the stones are peridot, iolite, and amethyst-- green, blue, and red. Excy calls this my 'Buick' ring, b/c it reminds him of an old Buick's headlights. Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket -- I bought this a few months ago before I had signed a lucrative freelance contract. It was 40% off, though (which sealed the deal, but I was so smitten I would've just put it on lay-away). I had taken a vintage necklace in to be repaired, and the ring called to me from the cabinet. It has a pair of solitaire ear-rings to match. I seldom buy jewelry for myself, so that in itself is unusual, but I just fell in love with it...


This is a Greek wedding ring. It's bronze. I love the folded look. A friend gave it to me almost 20 years ago. Once when I was checking out at Wal-mart, the clerk complimented this ring and asked if it was made from a bullet casing. (I told her it was). The slim gold band on the other finger is a ring I never take off since it was given to me in 1985. It's from the 1930s.


I wear this ring when we go to the hospital for my tests and surgeries. It was given to me by the same friend who gave me the ring above. The stone is malachite - supposedly a healing stone. The bronze hand holding it reminds me to give myself Reiki and to 'breathe!'


This is a blue topaz. I love how unusual it is. Unfortunately it flew off my finger on a cold day and chipped -- but on a corner so it's not so noticeable.


My River Grandmother knew I loved pearls and turquoise, so this was willed to me. My grandfather, who died in the early 1940s,
had given it to her. He owned a family jewelry store, which is where it came from. Years ago, I thought I had lost it. I kept saying a prayer for it to find it's way back to me. Three months after it was 'lost' I shook out a plastic bag from the closet and out it came! What's amazing is I seldom save shopping bags.


The ring on my index finger was River Grandmother's, too. I always loved it, so she told me she'd give it to me. She forgot, but when she passed, my Aunt, her daughter, sent it to me. The other ring is the first piece of serious jewelry I ever bought myself, from my first real job, working in a retail clothes shop in my junior year of high school. I think I gravitated towards it because it resembles my Grandmom's ring, though I didn't think about it at the time. The opals have held up well for being soft stones. Grandmom's ring was given to her in the 1930s from Grandfather.
I have written out who my jewelry gets passed along to -- family members and friends who have admired it. I like knowing my favorite pieces will be worn when I'm gone...

The Great Del Monte Beet Fiasco

It's hot, I'm tired, and my brain is too fried to write a credible post, so I am making up a story. I warn you it'll be silly, off-the-cuff as it is. My writing workshop advisor gave us the assignment of writing a short story that focuses on something generic. I just opened my pantry and saw a can of beets. Here goes:

Gertrude Crumbottom was famous in Gewgaw County, Wisconsin, for her pickled eggs. The recipe, a closely guarded secret, had been in her family six generations. Old-timers still licked their lips when recalling Gert's mother's eggs -- always prize-winners at the State Fair. Gert herself had won a blue ribbon five years ago for her efforts. But since then the judge's tastes had begun to run towards things like chow-chow, or pickled okra, or cauliflower. Fact was, Gert's pickled eggs were in trouble, and she knew it. The secret ingredient to her eggs -- beets -- were unfortunately a vegetable unanimously disliked by a lot of people, specifically Gert's two sons, and thus, her daughters-in-law. If the boys wouldn't eat them, Carrie and Freda wouldn't either, and Gert knew the pickled eggs would end with her generation.

Gert couldn't bear to think about that. So she began a campaign to change her families' opinion of beets. She bought the most expensive, fresh, deeply purple beets she could find at local farmer's markets. The family turned their nose up at them. She then bought the most expensive canned beets she could find at the grocery, figuring they'd be more bland but still the best quality. Gert fixed beets for dinner, beets for lunch. She shredded them into whatever recipes she could, trying to disguise their shape and smell. She hoped to trick the family into eating them and liking it. She just had to save those pickled eggs for posterity.

Derrick and Daniel foiled her plan by the fourth day. Walking through the kitchen unexpectedly, Derrick spied a Del Monte can on the counter before Gert had time to sweep it into the trash can.
"Ma! I thought I've been smelling beets! For crying out -- you know we hate beets -- For -- Danny!" he bellowed in a high-pitched nasal whine.
'WHAT?" shouted Dan from the backyard, where he was tinkering with the rusting relic of a lawn-mower, his latest flea-market find.
"Ma's been feeden' us beets!" retorted Derrick, his nostrils enflamed in disgust.
"No way. Mom wouldn't do that," replied Dan, absently flicking black crud off the top of the gasoline valve.
Silence.

Gert studied her fingernails, looking slightly mortified. Derrick stood over her, in silent aggrieved fury. When no one said any more, he turned on his heel to leave the kitchen, pointing a finger at his guilty mother and glancing at her ruby-stained hands.
"Blood on your hands," he sighed. "Now I know why I haven't been enjoying my food lately."
Gert shifted, leaning against the counter. "I just thought if I could make you boys like beets, the girls would be interested in my prize-winning pickled eggs..." Her voice trembled and trailed off with a small catch. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"Is it a bad thing the recipe dies with you?" Derrick demanded sharply.
"Hush, Der," said Dan, entering the kitchen, ever the peace-maker.

Wildlife Wednesday - The Creature Feature

Mama coons brings up the four babies every day for food before the crowd...



This little one is one of the three kits. He and his siblings were playing King of the Mountain...



This afternoon Mr Fox took the kits into the backyard for the first time. He got busy eating sunflower seed underneath the bird tree, and they ran off into the woods. After 5 minutes or so, he suddenly realized they were nowhere around. It was almost like you could see the lightbulb over his head "Hey -- where are the kids?! Francis will eat me alive if I come home without them!" He ran frantically around the edge of the woods and dashed away. About 10 minutes passed, and the kids came up. The Mr ran up and chased them all the way to the tack room before returning to eat the seed. "Gol' durn kids, almost ruined the whole day!" you could imagine him saying.....

The Junk Shot

Thanks to Joe Klein's column in TIME magazine....Taking a further gamble that releasing junk into the busted pipes might squash the flow of oil...letting junk bury junk.

My friend K wrote a reflective, heart-breaking, erudite post about the oil spill -- letter from joshua.

There's not much to add. I just thought the following list of players was apt, so without further ado, here's thanks to:

BP, once called British Petroleum, who will forever be known as BP: Biggest Polluter.

The Republican Party, whose 2008 slogan was 'Drill, Baby, Drill" who now are silent or who cast about wildly to lay the blame at anyone else's feet...

Sarah Palin, accusing President Obama of being in bed with Big Oil. Oh Please.....predictable and lame, so not to be unexpected gibberish from this one (why are we even hearing from her??)...

Rush Limbaugh: "The ocean will take care of this on its own." Really??
The oil "is natural. As natural as the ocean water." Is this the best you've got? Sure you don't want to stick with the terrorist plot angle??

Rand Paul: "Accidents happen." Like foolish shit-faces like you being in the public eye??

Sean Hannity: "This is Obama's Katrina." Errr, no, this is BUSH's Katrina, Part Two. His administration's profound neglect has resulted in a national disaster we will feel forever...

Dick Chaney, for weakening drilling regulations, and

MMS -Minerals Mgmt Service, in charge of off-shore drilling, for being sleaze-bags that have been criminally lax at monitoring drilling regulations.

What is done cannot be undone. I hope we can begin anew to fix future energy problems.

Francis is Fine!

Thanks to all for your concern; Mrs Fox is fine! Not sure what that lock-jaw thing was all about. I did read that sometimes the female will fill her mouth and take the food to the kits. Perhaps that is what she was doing and she was trying not to smash the kibble in her mouth...but she has eaten at the terrace a few times just fine since then.

Her kits are getting more frisky about coming out during the day and I saw them weaving in and around one of the mustangs. I hope we can get some better pictures of them!

It's a (wild) Life

I've kept a Nature Diary since 1992, when we first moved onto the mountain, because even before we started the mustang sanctuary, this place was an animal sanctuary, in that every day I found myself interacting and observing all kinds of wildlife. I have so many stories that I could write about them every post, so I've decided to devote Wednesdays to 'Wildlife Wednesdays,' (and hope I keep up with it better than 'Fabulous Finds Fridays!'). But I have interesting news to share, so decided to give you a critter update today.




Mr Fox showed up with Francis the other day! He is watching her while sitting on the wall of the koi pond.* Is it just me, or does he seem to be smiling? He seems inordinately proud of himself, anyway. He didn't come on the terrace for any food, but he hangs out in the backyard and eats sunflower seeds under the bird tree. Here's another shot...



Yesterday we finally spotted their kits, who live under the tack room. There are three of them. They were playing in the side yard with 'dad' who will help Francis raise them. You can just make them out on the left-hand side. The photo isn't the best; it was taken through the window screen in the guest room. But you can make them out. He and Francis will go their separate ways after their kits are older, until it's time to mate and raise another litter next year. (They are monogamous).



The bad news is, when Francis came up to eat this afternoon her jaw was 'locked,' and she couldn't unhinge it to get any kibble! Our vet said it could be any number of things -- all depressing -- and since we can't get close to her yet, helping cure her will be a challenge. But things are getting pretty Dances With Wolves, AR style, in that she isn't easily scared by us anymore, so it may be possible to intervene if we have to...


*Excy was setting the koi pond filter up when they stopped by for a snack. It's now running, and has plants in it, and the coons love to dog-paddle in it. The mama coons lay on the wall and dip their feet and paws in the water while relaxing. They look just like moms lounging around the kiddie pool to me....I will get some photos of this...and no, we gave up on fish a few years ago when the coons moved in. I had some koi I bought at Petsmart, that were 7 years old and huge, when they finally died. We only lost two to coons (both times on full moon nights) because they got great at hiding in the plants, but now that the coons swim in the pond, it isn't fair to the fish...

Memorial Day

This Memorial Day weekend, I am reflecting on the fallen service men and women, and others who sacrificed for us through the years, and are doing so now. I am also thinking of two friends whose funerals we will be attending Tuesday and Wednesday. Particularly S., who I knew better.

S. battled cancer 4 years. He had so much spirit, and was always courageous and upbeat, even when living through cancer and its debilitating treatment. He was a psychiatrist, greatly interested in people. His particular hobby was learning and exploring Byzantine culture and history. He and his wife M's favorite foreign country was Turkey. Over the years, he taught a few classes at our church on Byzantine Christianity. We facilitated a mourner's path workshop together for several years. He was always seeking ways to reach out to others, and was full of ideas for helping the community. He'll be greatly missed by many. Here was his favorite quote, which seems especially appropriate this holiday:

What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we only see the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places -- and there are many -- where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don't have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory. Life is meaningless only if we allow it to be. Each of us has the power to give life meaning; to make our time and our bodies and our words into instruments of love and hope.

--Howard Zinn (historian)