Ligers

They do exist. We saw one at Reno’s Sierra Safari Zoo. I couldn’t get a good picture of her, dammit. Sorry.

And yes, it’s pretty much my favorite animal.

 

Foundations

The original bricks on our ranch house..made in the 1800’s in the Sierra Valley.

The more I look at this picture, the more it means to me. Not only do I love that our new home has so much history but the history is tangible. Our home sits on these bricks, made 154 years ago. This home is imprinted with the history of this breathtaking valley, of the ballsy people who settled it, the Holland (Dearest Husband’s Uncle) who restored it and now our Holland Brood.

This home, these bricks, this land is our new foundation. It will change…it will age…the cycle of life will have its’ way with it. But with work and determination, we’ll do everything in our power to carry it on…to our children (if they don’t completely resent us for moving them to the country once they enter their angst-ridden teenage years) and their children’s children…

As a family, we’ve moved quite a bit. But, this is it. We’re done. I feel it in my bones.

Predators and Prey

We moved up here to be closer to nature. I know that sounds all dirty-crunchy-granola-hippie-esque, but it’s true.

In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve come to learn firsthand that nature isn’t a still, peaceful Ansel Adams photo. It’s messy, violent, competitive, unpredictable and ridiculously complex. I see this played out from my kitchen window…the dance between predator and prey is always on display.

Consider the chickens. Lot’s of critters want to eat the chickens (including me). Hawks want to eat the chickens. Coyotes want to eat the chickens. My psycho dogs want to eat the chickens (but I have control- albiet limited- over them)  Even the eggs are not safe. Magpies want to eat my chicken eggs. Hell, the chickens sometimes want to eat their own eggs. And what are the chickens eating? Bugs. See? Predator and prey…

On a side note: Did you know that if you give a chicken some chicken she’ll eat it? I was once blissfully unaware of chicken cannibalism. (Wonder if chicken tastes like chicken to chickens?)

I am all too aware of the coyotes, bears and mountain lions roaming around here.  And of the owls that probably think our wiener dog would make a lovely little meal, so I’m his bodyguard while he is doing his business at night.

Amusingly, the predators I once feared, I now adore. Just last night, I was ecstatic to see bats swooping around my front porch. God bless ’em- eating the mosquitoes that have been relentlessly feasting on me and my kids. Predators come in all sizes…insects will gladly make a meal of you at any given moment.

Even the swallows that made a city of mud nests in the eaves of our barn are an example of raw nature at work. (At first, I thought the swallows were delightful, then a 1000 pounds of bird shit later…not so much) Some of the swallows fly so fast that they smack right into the barn walls and we end up with dead swallow bodies scattered on the ground. This gave the children an up-close lesson in the life cycle of a fly (maggots! Weeee!).

Though, my kids still haven’t come to understand the balance between predator and prey. Just the other day my son asked “Why do people kill deer?” (Dearest husband and I were talking about hunting).  We explained that you hunt to eat- just like we kill chickens to eat.

His jaw dropped in disbelief and he shouted at me with conviction:

“NO MAMA. WE EAT NUGGETS. NOT CHICKENS!!!”

This whole country adventure is proving to be nothing but enlightening for the entire family.

Me

First things first, I’m a mom. Of three spirited, creative, unique and damn funny kids. I shall call them by their middle names, to protect the innocents: Estelle is 6, Olen is 3 and Winter is 17 months.

I’m a co-pilot/wife.  I’m married to a man who is the absolute perfect companion on this adventure called life.

I’m a copywriter/fundraiser for the Surfrider Foundation. We love beaches (who doesn’t?) and we protect them (who doesn’t want to?). Check out http://www.surfrider.org.

I have 2 dogs. One is extremely neurotic (should have known that when I got her from the shelter and she couldn’t resist chasing her tail…for hours) and one is an obese, smelly, wiener dog. Though, I think “sausage dog with a side of rotten sauerkraut” is more accurate.

I also have two fish. One was won at a fair and as a “fair fish”, he was expected him to die in about 1.5 days after bringing him home. So, I bought another to replace him, an attempt to shield my sweet children from the dark side of the cycle of life. I’m happy to report that Rock and Roll Bob is alive and well and so is the replacement fish, Chili Pepper.

I love cooking. I read cookbooks like they are novels.

I have a sailor mouth.

Don’t ever, ever, ever touch my feet.

I couldn’t live life without coffee, beer and cheese.

I thought I was going to be an archaeologist or a Buddhist therapist and went to school for both. I’m neither.

Favorite inspirational quote: We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars -Oscar Wilde

I’m not a “The glass is half-full” or ” The glass is half-empty” type of person. I’m a “There is liquid in the glass” type of person. Ponder that.

I can’t do math. Math is hard. Fractions? Mind-blowing.

I love rain and snow. Remind me why am I in Southern California again?

I hate shopping. Why can’t we all just wear adult uniforms? It’d be soooo much easier. Perhaps I’d enjoy prison life? Without the shanks, general thuggery and the whole life sentence business, of course.

Blogs

I’m new to this whole blogging thing. And I have reservations.

I’ve had people here and there comment that I should write a blog. Apparently, some people find what I have to say slightly interesting enough to warrant a blog of sorts. I’ve mulled it over and over and over in my head. And I’m still not convinced this is a necessary or even a good thing, but what the hell.

The dominant reservation I hold to this whole blogging deal is this: Why would anyone care about what I have to say? I don’t say that in a “I-suck-feel-sorry-for-me-because-I-lack self-confidence” sort of way. Nor do I mean it in some sort of “I’m-passively-seeking-attention-by-being-self-effacing” sort of way. I mean it in a “don’t-broadcast-yourself-to-people-because-you-aren’t-anymore-important-than-the-next-gal” sort of way. A blog seems to be the portal to “LOOK AT ME!” land.

My other reservation is time, which I lack great volumes of. I’m a mom of three young kids, work full-time at home for a non-profit and run the entire household from paying nagging bills to making countless meals for picky toddlers to picking up dog crap in the yard. Time is not on my side.

Lastly, I haven’t the slightest clue about blogging. Why blog? What does one say in a blog? Does one blog for money? Does one blog for pleasure? Who will read this? Do I want people to read this? Should a blog be helpful or entertaining? What sets a blog apart from every Tom, Dick and Harry’s blog out there? Will I lure in stalkers? Haters? Fans? How much drivel does one disclose? Is blogging just another symptom of this “ME! ME! ME!” society I’ve been known to rail against?

In the end, I guess my approach is that this blog shall lack all expectation. I’ll expect nothing and maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprised or abandon it altogether. What the hell.