New addition to the Yard Patrol

If this little newcomer curled up in our back yard, she'd disappear - her colors are the perfect camouflage for our summer-dried grass and fallen oak leaves.

She's got a few tabby stripes, including most of the forehead "M," but the rest of her is a blend of white and a dilute tortoiseshell blend. She's got long, soft hair that picks up any plant matter that's no longer rooted into the ground.

Her coloring vaguely reminded me of a Maine Coon Cat or Norwegian Forest Cat. Going with the Nordic inspiration, I nicknamed her "Freya." She likes the monicker, and responded to it immediately.

She showed up with an unfortunate collection of ticks and a hankering for dinner.

I didn't need another cat...we have The Monkey and India the Dog-Cat inside, and our former barn cats, Texie and Sadie, living in Kenny's Iron Garden in the back. Plus, the Moocher Brothers from next door, Snippet and Flash, who must get served meals first so my own outdoor cats can eat without harrassment. These all get fed in the morning, so not to tempt the evening prowlers - the raccoons, skunks and opossums that mostly coexist with humans in our neighborhood.

These cats have a job - keep the yard free of gophers. We've used a variety of non-explosive, mostly non-toxic methods to rid our yard of gophers, and our neighbors have experimented with even more creative methods. Nothing worked - except the cats.

We haven't seen a gopher or its hole in a while, so we weren't in the market for another cat. But nobody told this lonely little fuzzball, who wandered up and mewed plaintively for a bite to eat.

I didn't need a cat, I said. I wasn't going to get it a collar, I said. I pinched off the ticks and dripped flea and tick repellent into the fur - that much I could do. And pop open another can of food....after all, if I didn't, then my own cats would be deprived of food. I wasn't going to give this cat a name, I said. I called it "Munchkin," a generic name I use for anything that wanders through our yard, including my own Yard Patrol staff. I wasn't going to get attached, I said.

Surely, this cat belonged to someone....

But if she did, she apparently belonged to no one now, I concluded after many weeks of feeding the newcomer. Surely no one would allow this lovely longhaired kitty to wander around, foodless, collarless, collecting ticks and debris in her fur.

I found a reflective collar I'd gotten on sale some months ago, and put it on her. No one's taken offense at this and removed it. Nobody's posted any "lost cat" flyers with her image.

She's now a regular for the morning Yard Patrol Breakfast Gathering. She cruises around the house. She longs to come inside, so I suspect at one time she might have been an indoor cat. But she fusses at The Monkey when he peers out at her, and I wouldn't dare upset the Dog by adding another cat indoors.

So, she's stuck outside with the rest of the Yard Patrol. She seems to be accepted by Texie and mostly is ignored by Sadie. She's still working out a relationship with the Moocher Brothers. Unlike the rest, who are all short-haired, she gets combed out every morning. Unlike India, who resists such attention, Freya seems to like being groomed.

I didn't need another cat in the yard. But it's a decent-sized back yard, and apparently this little girl needed a place to stay.

My New Ride!!!

White Glove Delivery Service doesn't kid around when it takes a birthday present from Washington State and delivers it to California, even when the shipping means a side trip to White Glove's headquarters in Salt Lake City, Utah.

They wrapped this baby up in a cocoon of quilted pads and bound her to the truck's interior wall. Nothing was going to happen to this two-wheeler on their watch! Then they cautiously rolled her down the ramp - "Red's Silver Rose" finally reached the pavement at her new home, Martinez, California!

She's a 2005 Honda Reflex, a motor scooter that can reach speeds of at least 70 mph. Sleek as something designed by starship engineers, this is a highway-legal "maxi-scooter." In some countries, despite the placement of the gas tank and lack of foot pegs, she'd be called a motorcycle.

I've had a motorcyle since 1991. Loved it. I'd ridden a few short trips on the back of Kenny's Honda Shadow 1100, the one he took cross-country on the famous, or infamous, ride by four of the Mirage Studios clan to San Diego ComiCon. Three came out of Massachusetts, including "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" co-creator Peter Laird, who instigated that trip. Kenny left on one of Florida's stormiest nights, hours after completing the safety course and getting the motorcycle designation on his license. They got back nearly a month later, full of stories about their adventures. The Las Vegas story and "The King Orders Food at a Restaurant" stories always get laughs, as does the quickie stop at the Grand Canyon, where Peter proposed they return by way of Canada to avoid another run through the desert.

I understood the fun of the motorcycle by that point. But I also realized I hated being on the back. They have a special name for the passenger seat, and I think it's more for how it feels to go that fast without seeing where you're going, periodically hitting your helmet against that of your pilot, and not getting enough warning when the wheels are going to roll over something that's going to send your lousy back into horrible spasms.

While Kenny hunted down the bike he'd buy for this trip, I'd sit on a variety of motorcycles. I never felt comfy on any of them until I spotted this cute red Suzuki Savage in Jim Walker's used bike department. I kept coming back to this bike and sitting on it - wow, it felt different! Finally, I figured it out - it FIT! And, come Christmas day, she was mine!

I took the motorcycle safety course (don't get on without it!) and was taught by the most wonderful of instructors. A former WW2 war bride, she and her husband got into Gold Wings, then Harley tour bikes. When she was widowed, she sold everything that didn't fit on the Harley, and took off on an 18-month ride, covering 36 states, looking for a new home. She found it in Port Orange, just south of Daytona Beach, Florida. And she promptly got a job teaching us rookies how to ride motorcycles - AND how to cruise along at about half-a-mile an hour, so we could look GOOD doing the slow ride cruise down Main Street during Bike Week. ---And, I DID! Parked it at Boot Hill, our favorite biker bar, across from the Main Street cemetery, now that they don't flinch at non-Harleys in their parking lot. Big, burly bikers watching over your ride......nice!

I rode her all around Volusia County, up to some of the bike events in Flagler County, out to Kenny's folks in the Ocala Forest. Kenny and I took our bikes up to CrackerCon in Jacksonville, which is more than 100 miles away from our Glenwood home. That was a pretty good trek for me. But the greater challenge was the then-unpaved Lime Street, on which I had to dodge soft sand and stay steady when the crushed limestone road became a mile of washboard surface.

And, oddly enough, my Savage was absolute heaven for my cranky back. On a stiff and painful day, I could take out my bike, ride her around, and some time along the way, I'd be at a red light and my back would pop like firecrackers and adjust itself into comfort and mobility. Ahhhhhhh! How do you spell relief? M-o-t-o-r-c-y-c-l-e!

Fast-forward to this year. It's been a while since I rode a bike. The Savage probably is beyond repair, and has been stored at the Martinez house for some time. Kenny's had a few bikes since his original Shadow; he got a Sportster while we were in Texas. After a short ride as a passenger, I realized this wasn't for me; it was another back-killer. I was thinking that getting back on 2 wheels would be a long time coming....

Till one of "those" birthdays started to come around. You know, one that ends in "0"....

Kenny would be working in Southern California, and wouldn't be here that day. But he wanted to do something special. Boy, did he ever! He negotiated with a friend, and managed to get this scooter sent to our place just in time for my birthday! Isn't she a beauty???


Now, when I first heard "scooter," I pictured the little commuter models I'd seen at car shows. Those little Cushmans and Vespas are cute little chairs-on-wheels, and the Honda Helix isn't bad-looking, but I'd been on a motorCYCLE, and I wasn't much interested in one of those little, in-town commuter models. It wasn't till I spotted a Reflex photo on-line that I thought, "Hey, that's not bad-looking at all!"

I saw some larger scooters while Kenny was in Portland, and then spotted a Silver Wing (the Reflex's successor) in nearby Walnut Creek. Hey, these things look sleek! Massive bodies, motorcycle-length. Highway-legal. Futuristic lines. Yep, I could go for one of these!

Once I heard that this new ride was coming, I started my research. I may not be able to give you measurements and weights and other technical data off the top of my head, but I've got it written down. I joined the Reflex Owners Yahoo groups, and found out most members are men! There went the wimp factor - these scooters are ridden by guys!

And what a bunch of nice, informative guys they are! I pelleted them with questions - what's the difference in riding a motorcycle vs. a scooter? How's the handling? What adjustments in your riding style did you make? What did you have to get used to? Can I do the K-Mod by myself, or is this something better left to the professionals? Do you like the low windshield, and if not, what are the alternatives? How's it for long distances? When do you get used to riding an automatic? With no pegs? And no tank between your knees? I've ended up with a computer file chock full of these Reflex-veterans' tips, suggestions, heads-up warnings and enthusiastic encouragement. They're glad to have me on board, and I'm glad they're happy to share their experience and wisdom.

I stopped by the local motorcycle shop - a really cool place full of choppers in various stages of assembly. I needed a cargo net and other luggage bungie straps for making grocery runs or trips to teach class, and found 'em there. There won't be much I can buy there - it's target audience is the Harley crowd, of course - but they sell some accessories I can use down the road, and they promised they wouldn't mind a girl parking her Japanese-made scooter in front of their biker store. I told them they reminded me of the wonderful bike shop we left behind in Keller - only, unlike Frank's store, this one has no fridge with a Rat Fink painted on the door.....yet....

The scooter has a new name - "Red's Silver Rose." She has some silver and black rosebuds decaled onto her wind screen. Ed Roth always called me "Red," or "The Redhead," and he always liked "Hon-doos," as he called this brand. I've already taken her on a short jaunt around the winding streets of Vine Hill, the neighborhood of Martinez where we live, and down Morello Avenue to Ace Hardware, where I got keys made for my horse trailer and - oooh, with roses! - a key for the house. I've added them to the scooter's key ring.



And she came with some accessories. Our friend, who sold the scooter to Kenny, had a special "Beth" key fob made for this. She tied a rainbow of curled ribbons and added a "Happy Birthday!" card to the key ring as well. Red's Silver Rose came wrapped up in protective padding, and wrapped up like the birthday present she became!

And - finally - I'm back on two wheels again, and OH! - does my back feel better!!!

Here's looking at you, kid!

Practicing what I preach

When I teach hula, I tell my students, "Practice facing a wall with an 'audience' - pictures of folks smiling at you, or a shelf of Beanie Babies, dolls or other stuffed animals. And I practice what I preach. Just ask the Monkey.

Hula as a performance art

Hula always was a performance art, from the earliest of times, and all students need to pretend, from time to time, they're dancing for a crowd. Some never want to do shows; they dance hula strictly for personal enrichment, and that's fine with me. But when you practice before a "pretend" audience with supportive, smiling faces, this imaginary "show" sometimes inspires a dancer to put a little more spirit into her practice.

Smiles, everybody!

So, I tell my students to practice facing a wall, because walls and corners guide a dancer in hitting her marks when the choreography goes beyond simple steps from side to side. And facing an audience of smiling people - or animals - is encouraging.

...and a Monkey!

And, just to prove to the students I mean what I say, I began putting photos and smiling stuffed characters onto a shelf my haumana face while in class. And, the Monkey, who is a big fan of my hula classes, decided to hop onto the next shelf up, just to get a better look at their performance!

Moving - even just a blog - is always crazy

Nobody asked me if I wanted to pack up 143 blog entries and move 'em. I've shoved 'em all into - okay, not the horse trailer, but into an enormous document in my "Documents" file. I've downloaded them the way Yahoo! 360 told me to do, and shoved that into my "Documents" file.

Then I went to my Blogger account and tried to follow the rules for unloading all this into my Blogger version of The Little Red Hen Construction Company and Arts Studio....

"It's easy!" they promised. I should have known better. Moving is never easy. 

You can't get from Point Y to Point B (Yahoo to Blogger) by simply cutting and pasting and expecting your pictures to be delivered at the same time as the text from your "Copy&Paste" document. Nope - the pictures got lost in the move.

You can't get from Point Y to Point B using the Yahoo 360 Download "moving company." Somehow, when the Blogger moving company comes to unpack your download and move it into your new blogging home, they can't get the box of copy and pictures to open, and they simply hand you an intricate "error" label instead. 

I'm getting a little frustrated with the "Can't get here from there" routine.

Bit by bit, I'll be taking the massive 1-143 blog entries from Yahoo! 360 you can read below, and I'll be relabeling their titles and trying to find ways to get their pictures back on their "walls." The entries read a little peculiarly when the copy comments on a photo that isn't there - such as the one about why Floridians call California hills "mountains" because of the cute little photo of the cute little sign on a cute little lump in the road in my cute little Florida community...which you can't see because the cute little Yahoo!360 decided to close its cute little shop.....

And, of course, I'm handling all the repairs myself. The "pros"  - Yahoo and Blogger - aren't being particularly helpful at this point. If they were, I wouldn't be handling this the hard way.

Now you know how the "Little Red Hen Construction Company" got its name. When it comes down to it, I may not be able to hammer a nail straight, or make storage shed walls meet each other at 90-degree angles. But sometimes, when you wanna get 'er done, you gotta handle the job by yourself. 

Just like the Little Red Hen in the childhood story.