Thunderstorms in June??

Being in the rain shadow of the Cascade mountains, we are a semi-arid desert. Normally receiving less than 12 inches of rain a year. If it weren't for the mighty Columbia river and many streams and rivers fed by those mountains, well.. very few of us would be here. As is, we arguably grow the best apples in the world. Cherries, pears, and vineyards also make this area green. Occasionally, usually in the late summer, we will get thunderstorms that can create isolated flash floods. Gully washers is another term for it. Quaint term that describes it well. If you know what a gully is (a small canyon or ravine). This year, we have had a couple of weeks of thunderstorm build up every afternoon usually with rain. Just last friday, it got interesting. Lightning, thunder, heavy rain and hail. The video above is from about 5 hours before the fun. The photos are after the fun. I was a little too busy during moving cars out of danger, calming kids and dogs, unplugging appliances in two houses, etc.


This is the ditch on the top side of our driveway. Notice the small hole at the top of the ditch. It's the old culvert that hasn't been used for about 10 years.




The mud looking down the road


and up. I heard a plow go by and knock the rocks off the road earlier.



Across the road from our house. The small hole on the right the old culvert. The main culvert should be in the middle of that clump of muddy weeds. It's about 2.5 feet across.


This is another culvert farther up our property. It's 4 feet across. Notice the high water mark. It's the lighter color of dried mud on the weeds.


Now the fun. These photos are our neighbors just past the cut up the hill from us. The worst of this storm missed us by 1/4 mile. It wiped out their road, most of their garden, almost got their goats, and buried their well.








It's not unusual to get these storms in August, but it is beyond bizarre to get them in June and for almost 2 weeks straight. Especially since Seattle is experiencing 28 days with no rain. I think it's worth keeping an eye on, if nothing else!

And what do you do after you've gone through such a storm? You dance, you play. .. except I can't upload the video. (?)

These are my sisters! This is me!

Photo: Hazel Thompson for The New York Times


I read this morning in some detail on what has been happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Specifically, Dr. Denis Mukwege, and his work helping women at Panzi Hospital in Bukavu. When I read about what is happening there on a daily basis, I wonder how this situation could have come to be. What thought patterns, what socio-economic situation, what type of government, would lead to this horror? It is the worst that I have read about.

The women Juarez, Mexico. Over 340 dead since 1993, some 500 missing. In fact so many missing they don't bother to keep count anymore. This is in a city of approximately 2 million. There is corruption, there is drug trafficking. But why are the lives of women, most between the ages of 10 and 30, being abused and thrown away?

This is not a new problem. During WWII, hundreds of thousands of women were forced to work in Japanese "comfort stations". Brothels set up by the Japanese Military bringing in women from conquered nations to "service" soldiers. The Japanese government has yet admit ownership of this horrendous practice that continued for over a decade from about 1931 to 1945.

I see these alarming trends everywhere and I can't help but wonder why. Are they true trends or just the growth of my awareness? I think here in the US, the answer is yes, women are being treated in an increasingly negative way. If the value of women flux and flows over time, is is all about brute strength? How does religion play into it? And then at the core of my angst, how could women with their vital and intrinsic role be so abused?? I think the partial answer is that we, as women, have let it happen. We cater to men's wounded needs. Enabling the abuse in a co-dependent way. I think there is no doubt we live in a walking wounded world. I truly believe that if somebody is hurting, everyone is hurting. Who ever is the weakest physically and culturally gets the brunt of it. Women have typically been the breaker wall between the horrors of the world and our children.

How does it start? In subtle ways. Look at humor and what different sections of the population see as funny. Look at what is deemed sexy for both genders. Look at the role that women are allowed in religion and the work place. Look at advertisements. What I see is women reduced to the simple role of producers of children and sex toys. Not the the loving nurturing glue that keeps families together. Not the mysterious and alluring goddesses of immortal lust. Not the powerhouse of intellectual strength that so many women poses. Just glorified incubators and sex toys with no more brains nor feelings than what we allow the family dog to have.

You might have picked up some irritation here. You were meant to. This is a very frustrating thing! I do feel like the odds are so against most women around the world. And on top of that, there seems to be so little awareness as to what is happening out there. So I am asking, please, look around you. Are the women that you live with undervalued? Do you see advertisements that portray women as sex objects only while men are given a broader range of abilities and roles? If you allow any sub-group of your society to be undervalued or demeaned, you are opening the door to more violent repercussions. Something to think about.

Who is this girl?

At first, nothing of interest really. Two dogs, a girl, and an old truck. But I know this girl, therefore it is different for me. Balanced on an electrical spool, there she is squatting yet somehow remaining linear. In the beginning stages of full womanhood, there is no outward sign of the awkwardness that undoubtedly she feels. And what an interesting dog! Is that a blue eye staring back? Yes, it is. The dog seems almost as linear as the girl. And no wonder, she could climb trees! So why are they up on that spool? The girl is teaching the dog tricks. So there they are posed together, leaning ever so gently on each other against falling off. And that fluffy collie, what a happy fella! It looks to me like someone asked him to sit and stay but he decided differently just as the picture was taken. The rest is pretty plain. The tree is just a tree. The wood is just wood. The shed behind? A chicken coop. The truck, just a truck. But that girl; I'd almost forgotten she existed. The relaxed expression on her face, even if she's perched what most of us would consider precariously. The relaxed grace of her hand. Well, I'm glad I remembered her now. The sadness to come isn't there in this photo. Her dog is alive and healthy. She hasn't left dance because of a militant control freak. The worst years dealing with her mother are yet ahead. Yes, I am glad I remember now.

Boulonais Draft horses

My Mom went to Costco and she was in the mood. She came home with quite a few things but the one I was most interested in was the book on horses (I'll get the name and author). It had wonderful photographs of many, if not all, the different breeds in the world. Sleek to odd: they were wonderful. But as usual, I gravitated to the work horses. Strength, endurance, massive size yet gentle natures. I could go on but that isn't my point. There was a quote in the book. Something along the lines that if we cherish our old buildings, if we preserve our historical landmarks, then we need to preserve the draft horse. Because they are how we built everything. In there it mentioned that the Boulonais was an endangered species. First I had to get over the concept of a domestic animal categorized this way. But this statement resonated with me. Especially in light of our coming economic, shall I say, shift? I don't know that we will seriously need the use of such wonderful creatures on a daily basis again. But watching my Dad tear up over memories as a young man working with horses, it made me wish it could be so. We give names to our trucks and tractors but they could never replace a living being. Let alone one that worked so hard with you to achieve goals that only you could recognize. But did it without hesitation (most of the time), with full heart. I think that is why we love horses. Their ability to throw their whole being into an endeavor. And look so magnificent doing it.

I'd love to honor the knowledge and traditions. I'd love to feel the power behind those bulging muscles. Dad says there is nothing like it. I do remember the tractor pull that was held here in town when I was a little squirt. The local John Deer tractor dealer got together with on of our neighbors up the road from us farther into the hills who still farmed with draft horses. I think he had Belgians. In anycase, for those unfamiliar, a tractor pull is a contest to see which "tractor" can pull the most weight. They hooked up a orchard tractor to a pallet of cement blocks. And then would see if it could pull it a certain distance across the dirt parking lot. Then the horses got a chance at it. Then they add more blocks till somebody came out the winner. It didn't take very long at all before the tractor was done for. Then it is fun time! They wanted to see how much the horses could pull. Finally, the horses woke up from their doze. It was truly a moment of controlled power, and obvious bond between horse and master. Who won? Well of course, the horses did. They ran out of blocks!

Step one on how to overcome our consumerism

(This is an edited version of an email I sent a friend. I thought it could be useful for anyone suddenly caught in our down turning economy)

Well, here's my take on it. I think the biggest trick is to put yourself in the mind set they had during the last depression. Waste not want not. A penny saved is a penny earned. Don't buy anything unless you can use it repeatedly throughout the years. And don't buy it unless you can't borrow it or get it for free (check out Freecycle.org in your area).

You can address food issues with two factors; one-buying pre-made food is more expensive. Two- it happens to be worse for your health as well. Which makes you make bad decisions. If you look at the price per pound and then look at how dense the product is per nutritional value, you'll see that a box of dry cereal is a waste of money. Most people like bacon, have you found the packages of the ends at the butcher counter? They taste great and are just odd shaped. Plus at least 2 dollars cheaper a pound. We do have Cheerios for my oldest because I've found she is niacin deficient (growing pains and mood swings) and it is an easy way to make sure she has enough. But those are for her only. Orion only snacks on them on occasion. And I stay away from them because I don't want to waste them.

First -You have to stop spending on EVERYTHING to figure out where you are at. So that means only transportation to and from work, and perishables for the home like milk and eggs. I bet, if you set a NO spending for a week, even two weeks, you could eat and live quite comfortably with what is in your house already. No buying ANYTHING extra for the kids. No ice cream, no deserts! They have all they need anyway. No coffee, tea, creamer, chocolate, and beer for the adults either. No picking up snacks because you are away from home and didn't bring anything. Or, because the kids don't like what you have. They'll learn to like it, and you'll learn to pack.

Two - you need to keep all your receipts and enter them into an excel, notepad, money program, etc. Figure out what you are spending money on. You can guess on how much you need to budget for food and gas, etc. But until you do this, you won't actually know. Do it for a few months at least if you haven't done it before. It will take that long before everyone is remembering to bring home the receipts all the time. Then you can just spot check now and then when you think you need to. For now, make sure you know what is going out a month to debtors and UT. That will help narrow it down to what is left for the flexible household stuff. Oh, here's a big one- Only carry Cash! Don't use your cards or check book. You'll be much more aware of what you are spending and when you are overspending. It will also help with budgets. It will be concrete. Here is what you need to pay the electric bill, here is what you need for your gas tank this week, and here is your allowance for food on the go. You should never pay more than $5 for a meal on the go. If you are, you are paying for junk and too much of it.

It's really important to look at all the debts you are paying on and get rid of them. You can start with any and all department store cards, credit cards etc. This one may be hard, but no online subscriptions, no magazines, no movie rentals etc. And no charitable donations except a set amount once a year! Don't get carried away at xmas! Give only to one or two people and only people that actually need something! Give one gift to each of the kids. Try and get Santa to deliver gifts from other elves at what ever house you are celebrating at to make a bigger impact with less stuff. I found it is actually easier to focus on just one debt at a time and dump everything you have into it till it's gone. Instead of a little every month to 20 of them. You should probably look into what is involved in bankruptcy. Even if just to arm yourself for the future. Our economy is tanking rapidly (i'll expand on this later). The world is going to be affected by this. One thing that you need to just cement in your head. You have been living above your means. You don't have the money to spend. Make your budget. Define a 5 year plan. Once you have that, you'll see that you don't any excess money to spend on the big fat X. Once you get used to NOT spending money. It is easier. So just keep saying over and over again, I DON"T HAVE MONEY. Till you get used to going into a store and ONLY getting what is on your list. Don't look left or right. Just get what you need and get out. It will feel great when you have the kind of security you really need - a savings account. The whole consumerism society is addicted to spending money. You have to break that. BUT it is like food addictions, you still have to eat so you have to be twice as vigilante because you can't just eradicate the thing that you are addicted to.

I know that logical arguments around food are difficult in the best of time. BUT if you eat simply, you'll all feel better. And when you feel better, more solutions to your problems will be found. Getting everyone off the sugar high's and lows will make a huge difference in your house hold. The multivitamin might also make a noticeable affect. It sure does in our household. All you can do is do the right thing for you. And hope that you can be a positive influence on the rest of the household. Get stubborn, get mean if you have to. But you know you have to do something different!

Here's my basic grocery list :
Breakfast:
plain old fashioned oatmeal
flour
butter
sugar
milk
eggs
yogurt
cheerios
raisins
sausage - on weekends

Lunch and Dinner:
flour tortillas (I like the spinach ones)
black beans
salsa
humus
top ramen
pickles
carrots
yellow and green onions
garlic
broccoli
green peas
rice
chicken
plain macaroni
fish on friday
squash
bananas
peanut butter
jam
bread
cheese
fruit leather
crackers

Supplements for me and the kids:
a good multivitamin and fish oil

Shop at your local Grocery Outlet or equivalent. You'd be surprised at the amount of organic foods AND cheap prices! But you have to be careful. Places like this specialize in pre-made stuff. Stick to your list. And keep looking for the least amount of processing. Focus on veggies and then proteins. We get starches so easily, that will happen all on its own. Go to the bread outlet store and stock up on whole grain everything for just a few dollars. With our chest freezer, I stop there about every 2 months and get almost all our starch needs there for 20$ including breads, english muffins, granola, and crackers. I read an article in Mothering Magazine about what a professor at Bastyr thought was a balanced diet? It was very insightful including what she termed digestives; something that is either raw, fermented, cultured, or pickled. That made a light bulb go on for me. I've been reading over the years about what happens when the Ph in the body is off. From yeast infections to cancor sores, to digestive issues, etc. Well, these digestives help balance Ph and microbes as well. Makes perfect sense to me. I also was reading at Earthclinic.com about an apple cider diet. It's easy as pie and works wonders on sugar cravings. I've tried it for a week now. Just put a splash of apple cider vinegar in your drinking water and sip that through out the day. I feel a marked difference.

Take it a step at a time. You know you have to act but do what seems easiest and work up to the rest. Try and work to get concesus in your house but don't let anyone's refusal stop you. Control what you can and try to get a hold of the rest later. This is YOUR future. You have to grab ahold of it for you and your kids.

Yes, I Can

Yes, we can
An eastern Washington perspective

I am an unemployed white single mother of 2. I have been a Barack supporter since January 08 when I heard is speech in New Hampshire. His words and sentiment rang true with me then. And now, November 5, 2008, we can all see just exactly how many others felt the same. Finally, we are not alone in our struggles. We have a Unifier that will lead us through the strength found in diversity. Not the hate of division. We have again somebody that will gather us in brotherly love to do the work that so desperately needs to be done.

My intellect told me he would probably prevail last night. But after 8 years of everything going wrong, my hope for the future was rather timid in comparison to the deluge of faith I feel now. Yes, we can overcome the obstacles set before us. But more importantly, yes, I can. I can find a job, I can get health coverage, I can build a secure and stable life for me and my kids. Where justice for all can be found. It won't happen overnight. But I have no doubts now about how many others out there are willing to work towards the same goals I have, together. No more is it me, and them. It is US in the United States of America.

My hope was so disillusioned that even as I tried to grasp the reality that Barack Obama and his team of ardent supporters had really landed the highest position in the country, I was sure this meant we had lost our governor here in Washington State. That the smear campaign against Christine Gregoire would have done their damage even with the mounting evidence that Dino Rossi is a crook. But, it didn't. She is our Governor just as Barack is our President. And by a margin that cannot be questioned. So I must thank every single voter out there for not only paying attention to this historic president campaign but also to issues here at home. We even managed to vote in measure 1000 -Doctor assisted suicide. Our death with dignity law.

Things can never be 100% fair. But we can sure work at it so the scales are not tipped so ridiculously in favor of one sector of our nation. I have grown up here in the Wenatchee Valley. I have seen the influx of immigrant workers from Mexico and beyond come and take residence here. I have always respected the struggles they have faced, even if I could only understand partially. I am an outsider in their culture just as they are to mine. But I never thought this meant we couldn't be friends. That we couldn't work together on common issues. Yet, I have been rebuffed because the paleness of my skin.

My daughter now attends the same grade school I did. When I was there, there were only a few Hispanic kids on our bus who didn't know English. I would try to protect them from the bullies and to be friendly. This was hampered by our language barrier. By the time I left high school, there was a sizable community of Hispanics but they kept to themselves. An increasing gulf opening up between us. Now, my girl's class is over 60% Hispanic. I had to wonder how things would be different. They are but now things are somewhat reversed. Even with dual language classes, my girl who usually makes friends everywhere she goes, isn't getting the invites to birthday parties. And only a few Hispanic families will talk with me. The teachers are trying to address this. They held a dual language night at school. There was a good turn out from our class. But although there should have been a pretty even split of English speaking families and Spanish speaking families, it wasn't. 90% were Spanish speaking. I see both of my children making overtures to all kids, no matter their differences. I will keep encouraging it in them and myself. I can only hope, that audacity to hope, that the next time I make overtures of friendship, whom ever it is on the receiving side can meet me half way.

I find it very awe inspiring how having one event, one action from one person can change the destinies of so many people. You are right, Mr. Barack Obama, to be humble in your achievements. Yes, you have been elected our next president. But I know that you understand how many people are relying on you to lead the way to a better world. But you are not alone in this endeavor. You have millions of people just like me who have so much potential, so much to give. We just needed change we could believe in. Yes, we can, Mr. President elect. Yes, I can.

My time in the Bering sea as an Observer

12 years ago in January, I turned my back on the world and fell off the end into Dutch Harbor. My first taste of reality was bile in my throat from the rough ride on the jet. The so called airport has the shortest runway in the United States and requires that any pilot attempting to land there carry a special license. One side of it is a mountainous rock wall, 2 other sides, water. If you make the landing without loosing your meal, the fresh air that greats you on the tarmac is likely to blow you down anyway if you are unprepared. Such is a typical greeting for that Isle.

Waiting inside the tiny terminal, I was a bit daunted by the towering bulks of the men around me. All different shades of rough but friendly, they looked ready for everything I wasn’t. Little did I know at the time that in the next 2 and half years I would get more injuries and scars than in my entire life up to that point. There is no way to prepare yourself, or someone else for that matter, for the testing of mettle, muscle, and strength that comes with working within the commercial crab fleet in Alaska. I was just as eager to be on the way as the crews but for vastly different reasons. My paycheck was going to be the same no matter the catch. And it wasn’t a sizable one at that. Most new people, or greenhorns if you prefer (I know why they are green but do I want to know what is with the horn?), wanted to know if they had what it takes to be a man and walk the walk. I wanted to prove that I was a capable woman – to have an experience that would either make or brake me. At that point, I really didn’t care which.

Never one to be cooped up inside for very long, I’d take walks into town. The bunkhouse was out in Captain’s Bay, the furthest of any from what passes as a town out there. The horizontal wind that battered ice pellets against my face brought the thought again that I needed to upgrade my gear. I had to laugh but even that proved a bit of a challenge as the wind tried to stuff it back down my throat. I soon learned that Dutch is probably one of the few places in the states where it is not only safe to hitch hike, it might save your silly ass.

My first night aboard was also my first hands on experience with how dangerous boats can be. We hadn’t even left port yet. The engineer took a tumble down the stairs and cracked 3 vertebrae. He had to be strapped into a life basket and craned from boat to boat as we were tied up three boats out. I had heard him fall when most others were too asleep to notice. That was the first of many times that boat captains and crews learned how useful my all around attentiveness could be. After frantic phone calls, a replacement was found and we head off into the Bering Sea a minute after midnight. Excited and loving the wind, I stayed out on the bow feeling the sloppy rhythm of a boat for the first time. I still enjoy it even when I am sea sick. Most of the time, no one knew that I was green at the gills. But that first trip, I knew that I hadn’t been able to permanently keep down more than half of a English biscuit and a half a cup of tea in 3 weeks. After that, it got much better. That is, until the new engineer didn't realized the septic pump was wired backwards and the second story head flooded down into the galley. It was rough weather ta-boot. I have never used so much bleach willingly in my entire life.

I learned to walk again on that first boat. The sea tossed me about as easily as a if I was a pillow. Too bad I never landed like one. I marveled at the experienced crew. They walked as if we were at dock. I was on this first boat for 60 straight days and was black and blue the whole time. It was a catcher processor meaning it cooked and packed what it caught. Since they worked around the clock, there were 2 shifts. Since there was only one of me, I worked 18. So continually tired, cold, and wet, I tried to stay ahead of a crew that seemed hell bent to make it hard on me, and them in the end. Because even though I was new, I kept catching them trying to violate the rules. Well, I've always been a by-the-book kinda girl and I knew if I slacked at all, they would make me suffer all the more. So, when I saw them stowing halibut under the sorting table, I'd have to document it. When they threw garbage overboard, I'd have to document that too. When I found too many small crab in the hamper, I'd have to document that as well. It was rough because I lived with these guys. And they were used to what is termed a “rack” observer – one that does all his work from bed. So the first month was particularly hard until everyone decided the easiest course of action was to just go by the book. This breaking in period was consistent on every boat I got onto. They all had to see if I'd hold my ground. As soon as it was discovered that behind the cute smile was a backbone derived from my Grandmother's of steel, they accepted me. But I never fit in. Being a female “fish cop” there wasn't anyway I could.

Through all this, the boat pounded and bucked it's way through the stormy sea. I would take my breaks wedged into a chair in the wheel house or on calmer days out on the bow watching the waves and the birds dance over them. I've never seen colors like that. Every shade of blue. From gun metal to palest baby blue, and such clear teals. Against skies just as variable. Mostly stormy and cloudy but occasionally the sun would break out and I'd cry. And not just because the wind was whipping at my eyes. Those images, forever locked inside is what I remember most.

Sure I remember the guys. With a clarity that only comes with isolation. A good portion of them blur into one common strain that seems to accumulate out there with individual quirks. Names, I have long since forgotten except a few. But not their spirit. Remember that song, “Where have all the Cowboys gone?”. I know, they went to sea crab fishing in Alaska. Wanderlust, adventure seeking, bravado, quick reflexes, strong backs, and mighty endurance on harsh seas. These are the explorers of yesterday. The ones that headed to lands unknown. The ones to whom risk is just something to be quickly studied and then plowed through. Out there, they are very full of life. Annoyingly so at times. These same guys that laugh at heavy seas and getting slammed around the deck are the very ones that thought it would be funny to dump bleach on my rain gear, or dump out the vegetables that were for dinner. (OK, I need to let you know, I was a vegetarian at the time before that has a real impact). They'd try to bait me into a no-win argument about anything just to see if they could make me mad. There was also the quiet ones that never yelled, never talked boastfully in the galley, that the wheels in their brains never stopped churning. Where are they all now? I can only guess that they are either still up there, scattered like the wind over the land, or under the waves finally at peace.

I spent over 2 years out there. I loved it and hated it all at once. But it's left it's mark on me in more than one way. The scars and aches from it I hardly think about it. The soul wrenching jagged beauty of it I carry with me, a cold hot ember in my soul.