BethanyRambling

Cold (not really, I just wanted to add another one)

Just looking back over my blogs; I actually used the title "cold" much more than "Bleh". Of course Rachael picked almost all my titles for me (yay for sisters). I also realized that a good half of my "travel" blog is comprised of whining about not traveling. The rest is whining about how hard it is to travel. Man, how do you deal with me?

My desk is set up in a corner of the Little House, so that I face the large sliding glass door when I am writing. I have the best view ever. I can see the mountain, just over the apple tree, and in between the two I get to peep into my neighbor's back yard (and kitchen). They have a tiny black cockerpoo who really, really likes to bark. It's not his fault, I suppose. There are at least three different cats that have an absolutely wonderful time taunting him. The grey tabby is at the chain fence right now. She perched on top for a while, faking an unsteadiness that drove him nuts, then jumped down so that her nose was less than an inch from his, which was pushing as far as it could through a chain link. He actually had to pull back to bark again, at which point the tabby would bob forward, then back again as he lunged. Oh what a good game.

Just to the right of that is the workshed. This is the third building on the property, the one that I have been avoiding thinking about. It's just too damn perfect. It needs to be done right, and I'm intimidated. The owner and I both have the same image, of a writer's/artist's/gardener's retreat, a typewriter facing the mountains, and a potting shelf covering one side.

It's beautiful. It has a sturdy look to it, even if it does have that old look that all good sheds and barns have. The colors progress, from red to where it meets the ground, up to brown, then silver and rust at the sky. On a day when the sky has that perfect Montana look, with a brilliant blue and big puffs of white, and the mountain is glowing green, it's just a little too perfect.

Having said that, it needs some work. I think there is only one small window, all the wiring is exposed (although there is electricity), it has strange chemical smells through it, and let's not even talk about the spiders.

Actually, let's talk about spiders. I had a run-in with another golf ball sized one today. He was dangling directly above the door to the Little House. He was wrapping up a bee, which I thanked him greatly for... before the Raid came out and the shoe come down. I'm sorry, I really am, I know spiders are good, I would love for him to suck the nasty venom out of more wasps and such, but there was no fucking way I was going to sleep with him right on the other side of a door with a 1/4 inch gap in the bottom. Ain't gonna happen. So I smushed him. And squealed. It really is like smushing a kitten when they're that size. Oh I'm so mean.

Bleh.

That must be the single most used title in blogland. Cause when you're bleh, you're bleh, and there's nothing else you can title it.

Or is that just me?

Actually, I'm not bleh at all today, but I sure as hell was yesterday. I worked at the coffee hut (I may actually call it cafe, for short, but don't get confused, it is just a hut that chucks coffee out the window) from 12 to 5 on Saturday, then tried valiantly (but ineffectually) to nap before I worked from midnight to 8 AM on Sunday. Also at 8 on Sunday I went back to work at the cafe. So basically we're talking about 18 hours of work, with a three hour almost-nap in between. Hello, Rachael!

Monday, of couse, I had a day shift at the motel, so I had to reset my system by staying up all afternoon after work on Sunday. I've discovered that I can pretty well combat the nausea and droopy eyes, with caffeine and triscuits, but there is no hiding the itchy, crappy, don't-wanna mood that comes over me. How Rach is ever pleasant is beyond me.

I had one of those crawly feelings, like I had to make something, do something, change something, but nothing sounded good. Didn't wanna clean; too much work. Didn't wanna knit; too creative. Didn't wanna write; way too much brainpower involved. Demolition sounded good, but I've already hacked the shit out of my bathroom floor.

I ended up tweaking and twisting and hacking at wire, and now I have a pretty nice, asymmetrical, completely ignorant of design tea candle holder. It's perched on one of the log walls, and it cheered me up a bit last night. Or maybe it was just that by the time I was done the sun had gone down and I could go to bed. Still, it's cheering me today as well. About 10 more of them would just look freakin' awesome. This one is much sturdier than the ones in my bathroom that caused my Mr. Bubbles to combust. Bubble bath for children should really not be flammable.

Did I mention already that I love my cabled Montana sweater? I'm about halfway through the back, and it's still coming out like magic. It just makes me happy to touch it. Lord, I'm setting myself up for a fall. Please fit, please fit, please don't mess up...

Pictures are coming, I swear. Very soon now. Any day.

Ooo, and courtesy of dear Greta:

Which flock do you follow?
this quiz was made by alanna

Cool man.

Speaking of sheep, I am slightly devastated. The running of the sheep is in Reedpoint, MT next weekend. This is something I just barely missed last year, and vowed to come back for. Now I'm in Montana, at the right time, and I can't go cause I have to freaking work. Oh, to be independantly wealthy. Actually, I just love that phrase. It sounds better than trustafarian. Neither of which I am. So I guess that vow will have to hold for another year or two.

Speaking of being devastated, Lee Press on and the Nails will be having their last show ever, on October 30 at Nicasio. Waah! Swing really is dead. Still, they never let that stop them before. I think I will have to make another trip home, even though I am planning on being there at the beginning of the month. Tach needs some wind, anyway.

Bleh.

Montana and Texas

I'm sitting in my knitting chair, watching the changeable sky that seems to be the norm here. One minute pouring, the next shining sun. It makes for interesting clouds and light, constant moving and fighting creating strange holes and beams that disappear into castles in a moment. I'm sipping Huckleberry Cream Soda, and I just turned on the heat for the first time. I'm loving Montana.

But Robert Earl Keen is singing little barbs at me; I never really made it to Texas. Two days in Amarillo does not a Texas experience make. How is it that I managed to miss the two states I wanted to hit most? I've dreamt about Louisiana since I was a kid, watching terrible Van Damme movies where he tries to be a Cajun. And Texas... sigh. What have I done?

It's okay, my travelin' ain't over yet. I'll get there. But damn, I wish I had made it on this trip.

The miles that I have traveled, the places I have seen
Just won't let me put a saddle on this crazy cowboy dream.

And yet I wouldn't for the life of me change where I am right now. I guess it's just in me to be torn; I always want to be in two places at once. Or five places.

I braved my bat and strange bug-ridden kitchen yesterday in order to make cookies. Somethings are just too important to let little animals drive you away. I took a plate over to one set of neighbors yesterday, and I think I'll bring some to the others that welcomed me tomorrow. Really I'm only justifying the cookies for myself, but I can always convince myself that others need my cookies.

Jobs are good, although too much. Yes, I do have two jobs now. Silly me, I know, but the coffee stop won't be more than a few days a month as back-up, and I can now add barista to my ever-growing resume fodder. The motel is not holding to the 2 or 3 days I insisted on; I'm sure in a few weeks I will actually say something about it. It's just such a hard choice; sleep and housework, or money? Hmmm. I think the money might win for another couple of weeks.

Still no response from the bug, water, or house repair guys. Grrr. Everything went so quickly and well, and then ground to a halt. It seems like I haven't progressed at all in the past 2 weeks. I still can't take a shower longer than 5 minutes, the bugs still are twitching, and the floor still has spy-holes to the basement. And winter, it is a-comin'.

Speaking of winter, my cable sweater is coming so well!! I love love love it! I'm just asking for something terrible to happen, aren't I? I'm going to discover some terrible flaw in my math, or run out of yarn halfway through. I am using a pattern for a much chunkier yarn, so even with my loose stitches, I had to add 40 stitches or so to get gauge. But it will fit. Oh yes, it will fit.

If I could live my life all over, it wouldn't matter anyway. Because I never could stay sober on the Corpus Christi Bay.

Every state I visited around Texas had things to say about them Texans. I think it was in New Mexico that I heard gripes, often interrupted by wry chuckles, about the crazy trucks with Texas plates that came up to go four-by'ing. They sure knew how to have fun, even if they tore everything to shit in the process. In Amarillo I leaned about mudding, a leisure-time activity that basically consists of tearing around river beds in big trucks, spraying as much mud as you can.

Damn, what else did I miss? Someday...

By the way; pictures are on the way, just need to figure out how to get them where they need to go.

Also by the way; anyone else have dreams about freeways? I'm alternating between horrible nightmares about flooding and the same repetitive nightmare where I drive the same damn interchange, night after night, and yet I never get it right and always end up stuck on a multi-lane interstate with no exit until hell. Is this just evidence of my hatred of interstates, or is there a deeper meaning?

Bats

I had my first visitor! My friend Sandy was passing through, and got to be the first person to receive my tour. She kindly followed me around as I proudly pointed out things like chairs. Working toilets. Things most people don't really think much about, but of which I am very proud. It didn't take long to show her the one room of the Little House, but I dawdled as much as I could, since afterwards, we headed up to the Blue Castle.

Which I've been ignoring a wee bit. I've been filling and decorating the Little House, so I could have a comfy spot to come back to and write and knit in, and entering the larger place just long enough to grab food and clothes (the LH is a little deficient on closet space and kitchens)(deficient in the sense that there are none; not much use for a kitchen in a hair salon).

We poked into all the rooms; I showed her the floor that I had ripped up, the big beautiful kitchen, and the strange writhing bugs that continue to appear every day. We were just about to head out, when I saw a movement from the corner of my eye. "Oh! It's a bird!" Sandy said. A bird? How did a bird get... "No, it's a bat!" she amended. Squeals and running ensued.

What with sonar cababilities and all that, there were no collisions, and he politely flew out while I held the door for him. It was twilight, and time for him to be roving, so I didn't worry much about rabies. Still. Really gotta get going on that chimney. I didn't actually see where he came from, but that must have been it. Because bats in the high up cabinets that I haven't peeked in yet is just not okay. So he came from the chimney, and left before he had a chance to touch anything.

This morning I went back in the house, singing loudly and whacking a mop handle sharply on all the cabinets, then listening for disturbed rustling noises. Nothing. I think he was a loner, hopefully never to return, since I closed up the one place he may have squeezed through on the stove. Bleh.

On a much, much happier note, I visited my LYS today! Of course Local means half an hour up the road, but it's a beautiful drive to Plains, it's closer than Missoula, and it is a lovely place. She had this amazingly soft yarn from Stedfast Yarns, just over in Bonner's Ferry, Idaho, that literally made me drool. Amongst many other drool worthy yarns. She's only been open a short time, and it seems like most of her customers are still beginners, making lots and lots of scarves out of lots and lots of novelty yarn. It was a great place, and she even holds knit nights, amongst the antique sofas she shares her space with. I can't wait!

I finally hunted down someone to take a look at the windows and bathroom floor. He probably can't do the work for a while, of course, but he'll come look tomorrow, and give me a timeline. I have to get cracking; it feels almost like it's going to snow any minute, and I really want to have the place with the wood stove liveable by then, just so I can have the option.

Aw geez, I just went and looked at the thermostat. It's a chilling, get this, 63 degrees. Sheesh. Yeah, it's gonna snow any minute. I'm a wuss. I need woolies. (which I will soon have; thank you Sandy!!)

Storms and Pepsi

Did you know that the Olympics have banned Pepsi and other products that are in direct competition with their sponsors? I don't know why that outrages me so much, but it does. And I'm a Coke girl, myself. Tell me no bottles, tell me no guns and knives, tell me no oversize umbrellas and excess change (even if I don't know why), but don't tell me I can't bring a product that doesn't give you money. I wonder if they'd confiscate my homemade cookies if Mrs. Fields is a sponsor. Sheesh.

(info came to me courtesy of ThisIsTrue)

Why does that piss me off so much? Exclusivity at events has always been a big thing that corporate sponsors pay a load for. This just takes it one step further.

Next they're gonna deny entrance to anyone not wearing Nikes.

So. On the homefront. I went to church today. No political speeches, just a nice sermon about motives and meaning, walking the walk kinda stuff. Made me feel a little guilty, since the only reason I forced myself out of bed was to insinuate my little liberal self in further. Shame on me. Last week I was pretty much point blank offered to be made a member, as the voting takes place this afternoon, and I pretty pointedly did not follow up on that. So I wanted to be sure they didn't think I wasn't interested anymore.

I'm so excited! Thanks to a wonderful reader, I am now armed with the knowledge that there is a new yarn store in Plains! That's only half an hour away, and I go there anyway for the organic food store. It seems it is hidden in an antique mall, which would explain why I didn't see it. My eye shys away from anything with 'antique' in the title. To me, that means 'used but expensive'. Like 'vintage'. Give me Goodwill any day.

I'm also getting a visitor! Yay for people! I actually have the Little House in a state that is not embarassing now, and I get to show off everything. Cool.

It's paused pouring for a minute, so I should run out to the store. We had hail and wild winds yesterday, with the rain continuing today. It knocked over a huge tree in the parsonage next door. I sat by the window, lit a candle, and knit while watching the rain. I love it.

** I just looked at my statistics, and I got a result from a search for barb wire pinstriping. Know who else came up on the list, just before me? Wil Wheaton's blog. Hee. Yes, we're two people you automatically associate with barb wire pinstriping. **

little sleep makes titles hard...

I love cables! I really, really love cables! Never my favorite X-man, but wow, what fun! I've known how to do them for ages, and I've used little teeny decorative ones, but this is the first time I have knit something that's all cables. It's like magic! This incredible, textured pattern is flowing out, and I'm like hey, how'd that happen? You mean if I move this... I've always been proud of anything I knitted, and would shine with pride when someone noticed, but with this, I want to go up and wave it under someone's nose and say, "I knitted this! Me! I made it!"

Grrr, I hate wasps. There is a couple little nests right outside the glass door, and I've been waiting (patiently) for the pest man to come and take care of them before I do a damn thing outside. He's still not been up my way, and it's been like a week. Next week I'll call and bug him some more. Bug him. Hee hee.

I've got a bit of a sleep deprived goof going on, please forgive me.

In most parts of the country, California is pretty universally derided. You say you're from there, and you get a slightly horrified look, and a "but you're such a nice girl!" Here, it seems to be a bit different. Here you get the "what part" question, which means you're either dealing with someone who lived there or someone who has a cousin in LA. We seem to be the first stop in a northward exodus from CA. Half of the people I talk to once lived in Chico, and the other half have already moved on to Alaska. (I don't know where my numbers are coming from or how I spoke to the half in Alaska; I'm tired, okay?)

Too sleepy to blog more. In brief; found hot springs and whole foods store, less than half an hour away. Snacking on soy nuts and dreaming of a soak. Trained for espresso job. Fun. Lots of TV and knitting expected, interspersed with lattes. Need haircut. Bought lamp. Little House look good.

Blue Castle still has hole in bathroom floor to basement. Ignoring for now. Plugged with toilet paper to prevent crawlies. Showers still held to 5 1/2 minutes. Learning to prioritize. Which body parts today? Still, would very much like reliable water/well/pipes man/woman. That's man or woman, not shemale. Though wouldn't that be cool, to find a transgender plumber in Montana. Really doubt it.

Guess I wasn't too tired to blog, just too tired for grammar. Now I really am too tired for both.

Lovely Liberals

Cracklin’ Rose, you’re a store-bought woman, but you make me sing like a guitar hummin’.

That kinda describes how I feel about ol’ Neal himself. He’s kinda cheap and cheesy, but really, no one else makes me grin so much when I hear them. He has the power to make me happy. He just makes me want to do a goofy little dance.

Of course, I only listen to him when I’m in a good mood to begin with. If I was angry, he may just incite murder, or at least a fist through a wall.

I heard a strange noise outside my window a few minutes ago. It was a rythmic, scraping kind of noise, like an old man dragging a shovel in weak spurts, pausing for a breath every second or so. And he was getting closer. I got up and looked out the window when it sounded like he was about to drop at my door. It turned out to be a kid on roller blades, trying valiantly to get down our rough, one-step-up-from-dirt road. I can’t even imagine where she was going; there can’t be more than 20 feet of sidewalk or smooth paved anything in town.

You are the sun, I am the moon, you are the words, I am the tune , play me.

Many, many people, either in my comments, or their own blogs have mentioned that the only drawback to living in a small, rural town is the noted lack of liberals. Or a lack of open-mindedness (since those two aren’t always connected, no matter how I feel). That hadn’t been made very apparent to me. I’ve already met two artistically inclined, smart women… although that doesn’t necessarily mean liberal either, does it? Just most of the time.

I was at church on Sunday, for the third week in a row, so folks were starting to get to know me. Everyone greeted me, most by name, and I even got a few hugs. One was from Corny, the ~90 year old semi-retired plumber who offered again to take look at my pipes. As much as I need that, I just couldn’t make him clambor down into the three feet high crawl space. That’s just cruel.

Anyway, somewhere in between the announcements and community prayers, so that I couldn’t quite tell which it was, the pastor urged us to get out and vote this year. He couldn’t recommend a particular candidate, of course, but there were numerous issues coming up, not religious issues, but moral issues. Issues that are not protected in the bill of rights by any means. Issues that we need to take a stand on. Issues like abortion. Huh? Was there something coming up that I didn’t know about, or was he indeed recommending a particular candidate? Anyway, with the whole congregation nodding along, he told us that if we didn’t want the leftists to get one of their own in as president, we’d better get out there and vote. Because Kerry is sooo far left. Anyway, he would be discussing a new issue every week, until the election. I just bet you next week is gay marriage.

I’m actually kind of looking forward to this. I really like the people here, and folks like me already; I’m a likeable gal. After a couple months, when I’m firmly entrenched, serving caffeine to everyone at the coffee hut, volunteering for the fire department, laying on hands and healing everyone’s cats, much loved by all, a regular Mother-fucking Theresa, I’ll drop the bomb that I’m one of those leftists. I can be quiet until then. Because I have an agenda. That’s right, a liberal, leftist agenda, to show everyone that we weirdos can be nice, polite, church-going folk. Hee hee. This will be fun. And I can’t wait until the owner of the house gets here. They’ll be so confused; they won’t be able to not love her, but she’s one of THEM. Oh yes, this will be fun.

Brother Love’s Travelin’ Salvation Show is reminding me that I am a liberal that loves Neal Diamond. But I draw the line at Barry Manilow.

Shoot, I wanted to end the post with Barry, but I should say a little something to clarify where I am. The places I am taking care of/improving/loving are multiple. It's one lot, but on the property there is a large place, the Blue Castle (just a tribute to LMM, doesn't actually look like a castle... but it has the heart!), and a smaller log cabin, the Little House (another tribute; can you guess to who?). There's also a fairly large shed that I am saving for last, and a little tiny houselike thingie that holds the well, and probably houses several spiders, and maybe a lizard, so I think we can call it a house. I think that's it, but I'm never sure with this property; I wouldn't be surprised if I found a hurricane cellar or a fallout shelter in one of the back corners I haven't visited yet.

Wild Horse Plains

Last night was lovely. I sat in my comfy chair, put some Dar on, and cast on for two new projects. My first try at serious cables, my Montana sweater, made from the sinfully soft and scandously cheap wool/angora I got at the Classic Elite warehouse. $2.25 a skein! I feel like living on the east coast, just so I can be close to that place. I'm drooling just thinking about it. The other project is a secret. It has cables too, and that's all I'll say.

The chair was great, but I really need a spot to put my feet up. I don't really want a coffee table, since there's little tables and shelves all around the chair spot, but an ottoman would rock. I'm thinking of making one. One of sister Christy's old roommates had an uncle that made furniture from corrugated cardboard, and he gave them the most amazingly sturdy coffee table. I think I could handle a foot rest no problem.

I haven’t had enough quality time with Tach recently, so we headed out onto some of the backroads nearby. They’re pretty great. Camel’s Hump Road was perfect; empty, heavily forested, and led me in a nice little circle through the mountains. Plus it’s called Camel’s Hump.

After that little circle, I decided to take the road north, towards Glacier. I had already decided I wasn’t going that far today, but I wanted to see Paradise. I followed the road along the Clark Fork, seeing more of those great signals and trestles, and just before Paradise, found the hot springs that I knew were nearby. Way to hot for that today, but I’ve already decided that to celebrate the first snow, I’m heading up there. It’s only about 20 minutes away.

Paradise was a cute little town, with a stand that sold Huckleberry Lemonade (shortened Huckade on the sign). By this point I was so close to Plains, I kept going.

Plains is amazing. I don’t think it’s changed much since Wallace Stegner’s time; the houses are all familiar, and some of them even have old Packards and Ford vans out front. On one, I swear I could see bullet holes from it’s days as a rum-runner. There’s an organic food store, closed today, but good to know, and photo processing place.

I stopped at a rummage sale at the senior center and found a record player, complete and working, with speakers and a good needle, for $3. The ladies said that it had been through three rummage sales already, its price going lower and lower. No one was interested. Of course I snatched it up; I have about a hundred records that I haven’t played in 5 years. Plus it had an 8-track in it! How could I say no? As I was leaving with it in my arms, an old man was coming up the drive. He stopped short when he saw me, and said, “You bought it! I was just on my way to come and get it.” Poor old machine had sat through a year of rejections, only to be snatched up and fought over in the end.

I found a nice rocking chair, too. I wasn’t going to get it, but it would be nice to offer guests a place to sit, and I was entranced by a cute little log cabin that I passed that looked a lot like mine, but with a rockign chair out front. Nothing else gave the impression that anyone lived there, but the rocking chair made the place look… homey. Now I’m home, feeling too tired and lazy to do much of anything. It took me an hour to get up enough gumption to turn on the computer. I think I’ll just sit some.

Favorite Things

Man... how did it get to be afternoon? I meant to fall into bed when I got home. Darn the lure of the computer!

I really like my midnight shifts at the motel, but that may be because I like feeling loopy. Tiredness can be pretty damn fun sometimes. But it doesn't make me the most coherent of bloggers, so I'll keep this short today. Just some wonderful bits and pieces from around here.

Every night I put on my fabulously soft, rainbow colored legwarmers. I have to take them off after about 4 minutes, because it's still in the lower 90's here (what? Montana's not cold all the time? dang it!), but they make me happy, and I really want it to get really freezing now.

I have a warm, comfy chair. It's a strangely appealing kinda orangish red, with a cheap blue cushion to add comfiness, and my blue afghan to add home. From Mary Sarton, quoted in inspired house, "A house that does not have one warm, comfy chair in it is soulless."

The first week I was here, my next door neighbor came over with lemonade and cookies.

My pastor's wife came over with a marble cake yesterday.

In church, there's a 15 minute section for prayer requests, where everyone calls out things they need help with, or are grateful for. It's like a big, communal, good-natured gossip fest.

My woodstove. It's just the cutest damn thing.

A beautiful piece of art on a ladder in a light, clean, and airy wood cabin.

I have a flushable toilet.

Chai tea in a box.

I can take a sink out, all by myself. I even think I can re-install it right, when the floor is done.

There's a garage sale and raffle today in order to raise money for an ill neighbor with no health insurance.

The ground in the front yard is covered in little green apples that I can throw for the neighbor's boston terrier.

There's some really good roads, practically in my backyard, and tomorrow I have the day off. I think I'll really give myself a day off. I need to head towards Glacier, or before I know it, snow will have closed most of it off to me again.

I live on the Clark Fork River. It follows the road east and west, and though it's always there, it surprises you every once in a while when you come around a bend, and you're stunned all over again. I really need to go fly fishing.

I live on one of the last two sections of railroad in the entire US to have these old fashioned signal arms. Apparently they are very impressive. Normally, I'm not much impressed or at all aware of railroad thingies, except to say, hey, that's a train. But I actually noticed these signals and admired them, well before being told that they are just the coolest thing. They really are cool, and they fit into the landscape of trestles and tunnels and mountains and rivers perfectly.

I guess that's enough for now. It's good to think of these things, instead of spiders and roaches, my sore feet, dirty living room, thrashed bathroom, explosive stove, and neighbors with mullets and 3 kids by 18. Although it's kinda fun to dwell on those things every once in a while too.

Here's the best bad thing. There's a room in the Blue Castle that's been shut off since my second day here. The hardwood floor is covered with dead flies and other... detritus. I think they may have kept their dog there. There's trash and empty boxes, and on the door, someone has drilled a tiny eyehole, and written underneath "do NOt desterb". From my head to my feet, you can see whole grubby handprints. It's really almost fabulously bad. I tend to avoid looking over there.