Hello again so soon. There is no new news (not that this is such a newsy blog in the first place) but I have finally got our new camera to transfer pictures to my computer, so I can post them. I am trying to add a slide show of all my photos to the bottom of this page, but I can't seem to be able to limit the sideshow to only my pictures, it adds everything from Flickr that bears the same keywords. I don't need other people's kids and sunsets decorating my blog.

Anyway, today I would like to introduce you to Frau. She is named after Frau Farbisina, the ageless bag in the Austin Powers movies. The one with the voice like nails on a chalkboard, who must interject comments when least appreciated. If you are acquainted with Frau, and then you met our Frau, you would make the connection, and then you might appreciate our humor. But that is just her official name. Her nickname, the name we call her, is much more descriptive and unique- we call her Cat.

Frau Cat spent the summer on the porch of one of our houses, begging attention from anyone who came to do weekly security checks and maintenance. When two college girls rented the house for a few months, they fed her and let her inside, and when they moved out, she resumed her watch on the front porch. She seemed well fed, with a shiny coat, but she also seemed completely unaware that she did not belong on the front porch of Piney Acres Upper. As the first snowstorm whipped up drifts, she kept to her post, and as a major remodel job began in the house, she invited herself inside, napping on a dining room chair, asking ever so politely to be excused when she had business to attend to outside. The night that the first real blizzard blew into the county, we took her home with us, asking the landlord if he would allow a cat in the garage of our no-pets rental. She has since assumed that while the garage if fine for overnight, a fine location for her litterbox and catfood, her real domain is in the house, which we allow, but are rather nervous about, with our entire deposit on the line. But she sniffs at our concerns, and keeps on a running commentary while we exist in her space, with a voice that sounds a bit like she is suffering from laryngitis. When she finally manages to squeeze sound past her larynx, it is a strained, rusty howl that causes people who do not know her to do a double-take.

Frau is a cat with coping skills. As long as she has her box. Yes, she is coping in the picture somewhere on this page. When she is miffed, when she is offended, when the dog bites, when the bee stings... she runs, muttering and complaining in her rusty windmill voice, and makes a flying leap into her box. Once inside, she gains control of her frazzled nerves, and watches the world pass around her. Outside the box, she has an entire family to gain control of, but inside the box, her world is controlled and orderly. The box is a bit small for her not-slim behind, but apparently she thinks it hugs her curves. Of course, a ten pound cat landing in a small box is hard on the box. It slides across the floor if she lands in it with enough momentum. I do not know what will happen when it finally falls apart. The cat's life will have lost it's center of stability. But for now, the cat's in her box, all's well with the world.

Finally, a look at all the snow in our backyard. Most years, the kids up here hunt for easter eggs in the grass, which is barely beginning to show itself between the last few stubborn drifts remaining in the shady areas. This year, even though easter came early, we are already past when easter would come most years and there is no ground visible yet. You are looking over at least four feet of snow covering what, in the summer, is a jungle of willows reaching far above my head. And most of the state's ski resorts are closing tomorrow, shutting down the lifts on as much as a ninety-five inch base. It is not up to them to decide to stay open till the snow leaves, since they are bound to a pre-arranged contract with the forest service that determines when they close.

Tomorrow I am going skiing one last time with our church's "Chix on Stix" program. We laugh when we say "program" because there are usually so few of us that we end up not sticking to a program at all. My telephone call concerning it this afternoon went something like this- "Hey Susan it's Mel. (meaningless conversation about Mel's day of backcountry skiing) So, we're doing chix on stix tomorrow, you gonna come? (I say I think I will be able to) Ok, well bring all your stuff, so if a slow one comes along you can ski, and if it's just you and me, we can ride the trees, hmm?" We both know there is a good chance that no one except me will show up, in which case we will not be skiing or riding chix on stix terrain, but rather tearing up bumps and dodging trees. My life has been greatly enriched by the finding of a friend who is as full-throttle and as competitive as I am. Luckily, we have similar, but just different enough interests that we never need to actually compete. I snowboard, she skis. I mountain bike, she kayaks. I long-distance run, she golfs. We accept that no one can be Good at everything, so at our own sport, we kick butt, and at the other's sport, we submit to getting our butt kicked.

ok, I have rambled enough. BBD has gone to bed, i believe. Perhaps i should investigate. My parents left home about 7:15 their time, they should be dragging themselves through the front door in the wee hours. They will be helping us deep clean a few of our units the next two days, getting them ready for either summer rentals, or to be returned to their owners.