Skip to main content

Furry squatters

Greetings from Colorado, the forest green Subaru capital of the world. I'm here, rattling around in my cabin with only a small table, two chairs and a futon mattress for furniture. Still, it's good to be back in my old stomping grounds. The spring wind is trying hard to suck the rain forest moisture from my every pore. Too late. California already did that. It's been good to spend time with my BFFs in CA. They've all been great support.
The weather's actually borderline balmy here in Gunnison. It was a brutal winter for folks here. I think I'm glad I missed that, although I guess the powder on the mountain was epic. Now that the snow is melting and the mercury is rising, people act a little like they've just been let out of prison after a long sentence. The cabin is a little worse for the wear. The snow bent the iron railing that frames the front porch and the north fence is sagging in the moisture laden pasture. Otherwise, it's all good. I managed to light the pilot on the hot water heater last night when I got in. The plates that cover the hole where you stick the lighter-gun were a bear to remove for some reason. It's a good thing nobody was in the house to listen to me swear.
I also removed the insulation I'd placed at the base of the garage doors, only to discover the cozy sleeping quarters of about a dozen meadow voles. They scurried about, frantically discombobulated, trying to find their way out. So I helped them out a little by opening the door. Luckily, none had made their way into the house. Where's Abby the tabby when you need him? Oh yeah. He's in Hawaii, lounging on the lanai.
I'm off to the hardware store now. That's were I spend most of my time when in Gunnison, bonding with the guys at True Value. I opened a window in one of the bedrooms to air the place out. The fixture that usually enables me to crank it open pulled right out of the wood. So I need wood putty and new screws. It's always something with an old house.
With no Hilo humidity to give it bounce, my hair's gone straight. While I'm missing my natural curls, I am enjoying the sunshine.

A hui hou. Aloha!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud...

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees...