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A Thoroughly Enjoyable Day

Yesterday was the kind of day that, at the very beginning of my marriage, I thought we’d be having all the time once our kids were about this age. (That sentence is kind of hard to parse. Read it a few times until it makes sense.) It wasn’t a spectacularly exciting day, or expensive or complicated, it was just…fun.

Slight tangent: there is a family that goes to our church that is seriously Little-House-On-The-Prairie homesteading old fashioned. They are very nice. They have something like eight or nine kids, and Elizabeth has bonded with one of the girls, and two of the boys are pretty close to Luke’s age (one a little younger and one a little older). I’d mentioned to the mom and dad how disappointed Luke was that his trip to camp didn’t include a visit to the gold mine, and that I planned to take him to see it myself. They told me that they homeschool all of their children, and that they are planning an educational field trip up to Julian as soon as school starts (so they can get school credits for it), and that they plan to visit the gold mine, the museum, the old historic jail, the old cemetery…all the stuff that Luke would go absolutely wild over. So OBVIOUSLY I invited myself and my kids along for that trip. And also I am seriously considering having them homeschool Luke and Elizabeth along with their kids.

But I didn’t want to make Luke wait another month for his first gold mine experience, so I hopped back online to see what else we could find in the meantime, and I discovered The Smith Ranch. As soon as I saw that there was a ride on an old narrow-gauge mining train involved, I knew this was what I was looking for. Luke has been crazy about trains pretty much his whole life. I made reservations for the following Monday.

The homesteading family — lets call them the Ingalls since they’ve requested that I not use their real name on the Internet — had mentioned a nice park in Julian that they planned to stop at for lunch on their field-trip day, so I looked it up and figured I’d add that into Monday’s trip too.

So yesterday me and the kids packed a picnic lunch and drove up to Julian. The park was a bit farther off the beaten path than I’d expected, but we found it with no problem. And then…somehow I managed to lock my keys in my car while filling out the parking fee ticket stub for the front window.

On a family trip with Steve that might have been enough to sour the whole day right there, but yesterday it was one of the little things that are not worth sweating. My one concern was that we might not make it to the Smith Ranch in time for the mine tour, but my spidey-sense (I don’t know what else to call it but I’ve come to trust it over the past 15 months) was telling me that everything would be fine, so I sent Luke and Elizabeth and the lunch-filled cooler off to frolic on the playground together while I examined my options. I found a park employee with a Slim-Jim, but my door locks would not bend to his will, so I called AAA and as it happened there was a AAA assistance place thingie just seven miles up the road and there was already a truck headed in my direction on another call and maybe 15 minutes after I phoned for help my door was unlocked and I was good to go.

I didn’t have time to explore the park with the kids, but we got to the ranch right on time and still in fine spirits.

The Smith Ranch? Is awesome. The guy who owns it used to be a high school teacher and he obviously knows how to connect with kids. He was in constant teaching mode but in the best possible way. There was only us and one other couple there, so Luke and Elizabeth got most of his attention and he really drew them into the historical setting.

The tour began with the train ride:

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It stopped several times at various points of interest, like this pear tree that was planted in the 1840’s by the miners that had originally settled the claim:

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One of the stops was at a little fort the family is constructing from trees that have died in the drought. Teacher Guy asked Luke to help him raise the flag there:

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There were old 1800’s-era artifacts all over the place.

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Eventually the train pulled up at the mineshaft entrance, and guests were given the option of walking in or riding in an ore cart. The kids chose the ore cart, the rest of us walked.

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The mine itself is still in the process of being re-excavated after having been filled with dirt at some point before the current owners moved in. It only goes back about 40 feet right now, but that’s deep enough to be pitch-black and cold…you really get a sense of being underground. But what I enjoyed most wasn’t the mine itself, it was the way Teacher Guy (and his wife, when she joined us as we were coming back out of the shaft) wove a steady stream of verbal imagery that vividly brought that period of history to life for us.

After we left the mine we were brought to an old sluicing trough with crushed quartz and sand and water and a few gold-painted pebbles in it. They showed us how to pan for the “gold,” and we all had fun trying our hand at that. Then they opened up their little “general store,” which was fascinating because it was full of more pioneer artifacts, and we got to trade the “nuggets” we’d found for stick candy and red licorice. We adults enjoyed the panning (and the candy!), but Luke and Elizabeth were MESMERIZED by the whole concept. They stayed at it long after the rest of us had wandered off.

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Later we all got to cross a shallow gully on the kind of rope bridge the old settlers used to make…

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…and then we sat down in a shady spot while Teacher Guy and his wife showed us more artifacts and told us the stories behind them. I know it probably sounds dry and boring, but it wasn’t at all. Even the kids were hanging on their every word.

They had a reproduction of a letter that a Great-Great-Uncle of the wife had written during that time period, and apparently back then sending letters was seriously expensive business because the writer had gone to great lengths to conserve paper and postage and this letter had still cost him $5 to mail — one-third of a month’s pay for him! And look at the tricks he’d used:

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He not only used both sides of the paper, he actually used each side TWICE — once writing vertically and again writing horizontally. And he left a little blank square on one side, where he wrote the mailing address after he’d folded the letter to create its own envelope.

Mrs. Teacher read us part of the letter, and it was very entertaining.

The whole experience, the whole afternoon, was relaxed and fun and educational and awesome. I was so glad we’d gone.

Julian was settled as a gold rush town, but what it’s most famous for nowadays is its pies. The whole town is full of fruit trees, mostly apple, and the Julian Pie Company uses nothing but locally grown fruit. We stopped there on the way home and picked up a dutch apple pie.

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It was scrumptious.

So that was our first family trip to Julian, and definitely not the last; I think there’s enough historical stuff up there to keep Luke hooked for quite a while. I’m really looking forward to our field trip with the Ingalls next month.

The funny thing is, Steve used to go up there all the time during our marriage, and he made it a point never to let me or the kids go with him. (And now I know why, but that’s another subject.) How ironic is it that we had to ditch the cowboy before Luke got to explore a fascinating, historical Old West town only 60 miles from home?

Tomorrow the kids have a playdate at the Ingalls homestead, and Mrs. Ingalls and I will be discussing the possibility of having Luke and Elizabeth homeschooled with her brood. I’d have to clear it with Steve, but he knows as well as I do what a crappy school Hamilton is.

It’s breathtaking, how fast the changes are coming these days. I wonder what our lives will look like a year from now, or five years from now.

I’m looking forward to finding out.

Categories: Family, Friends, kids, Life, Love, School | 3 Comments

Exit The Mighty Herd

After giving the matter a lot of hard thought, I finally decided that without access to the Trinity pasture I don’t really belong in the cow business. I mean, I could probably make it work one way or another if I put a ton of effort into it, but…it just isn’t important enough to me to put a ton of effort into. Plus I would be dependent upon the resources and goodwill of others for the foreseeable future, and frankly that makes me a little twitchy.

So Saturday a bunch of us got together and rounded them up.

For some reason three of the cows were BEYOND RESISTANT, and we spent a ridiculous amount of time getting them into the corral with the rest. They turned actively mean as the morning progressed, charging at riders and generally creating as much trouble as they could for us. We ended up having to rope those three and drag them in, while they did their best to take down every horse within reach. I have no idea what caused the change in attitude; they were never aggressive before. Possibly there has been more harassment going on here than I’ve been aware of.

Once we finally got them all penned up, we had another hassle getting them loaded them into Doc’s stock trailer. Some of the cows loaded right up and watched the brouhaha from the relative peace and quiet of the trailer…

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…while others fought us for every inch of ground.

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Once the the herd was finally loaded up, we put the horses in the other trailer and took them to Doc’s place, then hauled the cows out to Garner Ranch.

Garner Ranch is a big historical cattle spread up in Garner Valley, the kind of operation people don’t even build anymore. It has the sort of facilities us small-time ranchers can only dream of. The Mighty Herd was going there to be ear-tagged, vaccinated, wormed, tested for brucelosis, for that youngest calf to be castrated and for two of the cows to be preg-checked. The quickest way to accomplish all this was to run them assembly-line style through the squeeze chute at Garner Ranch.

When we got there we had to wait our turn for the alley: a rodeo bull supplier guy was using it to train a few troublesome bulls to enter chutes. They all had cool rodeo bull names like City Lights and Mr. Moody.

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He ran them through the chute over and over for a while before finally shunting them into a side corral. We unloaded The Mighty Herd into a different corral and then took a lunch break. Doc’s wife Anita had brought a wonderful spread of goodies for us, and we all kicked back in a shady spot and gave it the attention it deserved.

While we were eating I grinned over at Doc. “I’m totally going to blog about how you were late getting to Trinity this morning because you got distracted and filled up your diesel truck with regular gasoline and then had to go trade it for a truck that would still run.”

He winced. “Fine, but if you blog about that then you have to include the part where that black cow charged your horse and you shrieked like a girl.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“AND the part when Veronica had that heifer on her rope and she let it charge right over the top of me.”

“I seriously thought you were dead for a second there.”

Good times.

After lunch we started running the Herd through the alley.

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One at a time they were locked into the squeeze chute and processed. When Doc poured a dose of vile-looking purple deworming liquid along the spine of the first one I yelped, “Dude! These are ORGANIC cows!”

“Not anymore,” he chuckled.

Sigh.

I had to leave in the middle of all this because I was John’s ride home and he had to be back by 3:00. But the Herd all made it safely back to Doc’s place that afternoon, and that’s where they’ll be for the next week or two. Doc brought Mahogany home Sunday afternoon.

All of the local folks who want to buy calves can come and pick out the ones they want while they’re in Doc’s arena, and then the rest will be sold together and moved to a pasture on the Res. Right now beef is going for about 88¢ a pound on the hoof, which should add up to a nice chunk of cash for the twelve of them.

In all honesty, I’m not too terribly sad to see them go. It would have been nice to fence that second pasture and enlarge the herd to a more lucrative size, but without that additional space it never would have been more than a very modestly profitable hobby. And I would have relied so heavily on the help of others that I never would have felt completely comfortable about it. AND, since I’m friends with the new owners of The Mighty Herd, I’ll still be able to keep track of how they’re doing and buy half a steer now and then to keep my freezer full of grass-fed beef. All things considered, it’s been a pretty painless transition for me so far. (I won’t be able to completely relax until all the cows and calves are in their new homes and the money is in my savings account, but that’s just me.)

I feel like all of the strands tying me to my old life are being snipped one by one, and I’m being freed up for whatever’s waiting in my new life. There are still a few strands left to snip, but I’m content to be patient and leave those in God’s hands.

Farewell, Mighty Herd! May all your pastures be green, all your water be sweet, and all your bulls be Prince Charmings. I’ll miss you guys.

Categories: Animals, Friends, Horses, Life, Ranching | 1 Comment

On A Dime

This past week has been very…um…I’m searching for an adequate adjective here. Eventful? Taxing? Mind-blowing?

Let’s just say challenging.

So after Wednesday’s bit of vandalism at Trinity, the owners understandably decided that they didn’t want to deal with the liabilities of this little range war anymore, and they said that The Mighty Herd would have to go. This was a rough blow, because my friend the Doc and I had just been about to start fencing off the second, much greener pasture there on the same property and gradually expand the empire from six mother cows to about thirty. This would have been my first big step in achieving financial independence. Alas, now it is not to be. But if it was Steve’s plan to keep harassing my cows until I got discouraged and sold out so that he could move back in, it has backfired on him, because now nobody gets to keep any cows there.

I called the Doc and he said he might be able to help a little, and to just sit tight for now. Within a few days folks were coming out of the woodwork saying that they’d heard I had beef calves to sell and that they’d like to buy one. I also got a potential offer from someone who has a relative who has hayfields in Aguanga that have just been harvested and who would most likely let my cows come and graze the stubble for as long as it lasted. A temporary solution, but a good temporary solution. The next time I spoke to Doc he said he had a buyer who would immediately take every cow that I wanted to sell, if I wanted to sell any, so that I wouldn’t have to haul them to the auction. I do love that man. (In an appropriately platonic manner of course, since Doc is happily married to a sweet and lovely wife.)

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Saturday afternoon while the kids and I were getting everything packed up for their trip to camp, a strange truck pulled into the driveway and a skittish-looking fellow stepped out, holding a sheaf of papers. I instantly knew that I was being served with Something-Or-Other by Steve in response to The Blizzard Incident. I stepped outside to have a look and the poor guy started babbling a bunch of soothing platitudes. I smiled reassuringly at him and assured him that I wasn’t upset or anything and took the papers. The top of the stack was a request for a restraining order, but that part already had DENIED scrawled across it. So I dug deeper into the stack and found…that Steve was filing for physical custody of Luke and Elizabeth.

I stopped smiling.

The server guy literally backpedalled away from me with a look on his face that I might have found funny if my brain hadn’t just seized up.

“That’s just not going to happen,” I said quietly to myself after a moment.

With one hand on the door of his truck, the server guy said I should fight it. As if there were any question.

We exchanged a few more words that I don’t really remember because my head was in a whole other place by then — although I do remember him thanking me quite sincerely for my courtesy, so I must have been nice — and then he drove off and I came back in the house and read every word of the stack of papers.

Steve was requesting physical custody of the kids from Thursdays at 4pm through Sundays at noon, every other week. He was also requesting overnight visits on the Thursdays of my week. Thursdays are their Youth Group meetings, of course. He’s trying to do to them what he did to me all those years: isolate them from social interaction with anyone outside of his own bottom-feeding social class.

The court had denied the restraining order but approved the custody request, and there was a hearing date set for July 22 so that Steve and I could hash it out in court. If I wanted to contest the matter I had to file a response no later than July 20.

This had been filed way back on the 9th, but they had waited to serve me the papers until the last legal minute. I had to get my response filed first thing Monday morning. I typed up a response and emailed it to my friend Jenny, who printed it out for me (my printer’s out of ink) and brought it to church the next day.

Church was…kind of an effort for me that day. Up till then I’d been walking around in a sort of suspended state of combined disbelief and shock, but actually telling the Pastor about it out loud made it suddenly real and sharp-edged and twisty. I cried a few tears and he reassured me that this was God at work and that when all the dust settled things would be better than ever for the kids and I. And then the service started and I had to sing with the worship team and I was really afraid that I might throw up all over my mike and I was really glad that Susan was gone this week and we had a guest worship leader that sings so loud and strong that no backup is really needed so I could just whimper along and it wouldn’t matter a bit. But the songs themselves were very comforting, and by the end my voice and my spirit had revived quite a lot. There is true power in that music, I think.

After the service I talked to Doc, and practical soul that he is, he sat me down and gave me a wonderfully long list of reasons why it would make no sense for a court to give Steve that custody schedule. Right now Luke and Elizabeth have a full, rich social life and a place in the church community and Steve has nothing to offer them but isolation and video games and late nights at Casa Gamino. And he works on Thursdays, Fridays and sometimes Saturdays, so they’d be stuck in some sort of child care situation during the day. And if he couldn’t even get through one night without drinking, how is he going to get through four days at a time? AND, the kids don’t WANT to go live with him every other week. The list went on and on. The sharp twisty thing in my stomach softened into something dull and manageable and my brain chugged back into something pretty close to normal function.

My friend the Doc is a treasure beyond price.

That afternoon I drove the kids up to Camp Wynola in beautiful Julian. We signed them in and found their cabins and they picked out their bunks and we unpacked their stuff and I put a few dollars into a spending account for them so they can buy juice and snacks at the camp store and then it was time for me to go.

And suddenly it seemed absolutely ridiculous to even think about abandoning my little boy there for a whole week.

I didn’t worry about Elizabeth, I knew she’d enjoy the break from home. And the camp itself looked wonderful and safe and fun. But…my boy! My snuggly Luke! What would he do without me?

I gave him one last hug and watched him skip happily back to his cabin with a careless smile on his little face.

And then I reminded myself that he’s going to be nine years old next month and if he can’t spend a week away from home by now then I have done a poor job of raising him.

Then I went back to the camp office and let the staff know that my friend Michelle would be bringing Luke and Elizabeth home on Friday along with her kids. Because part of the divorce process in California is that both parents have to attend a Parent Orientation Program to help them properly guide their children though the divorce process and Steve and I have to go to ours on Friday and won’t THAT be fun!!

After I got home I sat down and completely rewrote my response to the custody thing, this time bringing all of Doc’s advice to bear on the matter. Then I emailed it to myself. First thing Monday morning I drove to Temecula, went to the library, checked my email on the web, and printed out copies of the rewritten version.

Oh. I missed a part of my story.

Okay, baaack up to earlier in the week. I had found a website that carefully detailed the entire divorce process step by step and form by form, and I realized that I had Made An Error. I did not know that the divorce could not move forward until a Proof Of Service Of Summons form had been filed. And here’s the thing. Steve and I had still been on civil terms a month ago, so I had served him the divorce papers myself. Well. It turns out that that’s a no-no. Someone ELSE who is over 18 and NOT ME has to give him the papers and fill out the Proof of Service Of Summons form. Gaaaahhhhh.

So on Sunday Jenny had served the divorce papers to Steve all over again, and filled out the form, and I took that with me on Monday to get filed along with the other thing.

And this post is going to have to be written in many parts, because that was JUST THE VERY BEGINNING of what is shaping up to be one of the craziest weeks of my entire life.

But here’s a nicer note to part on: a post from the Camp Wynola blog!

Categories: Cats, Christianity, Friends, Horses, kids, Life, Love, Ranching | 4 Comments

Sorry I’ve Been So Quiet Lately….

There was a time, not so very long ago, when I would frown in baffled confusion whenever some other blogger would write something along the lines of, “Sorry I’ve been so quiet lately, there’s a bunch of stuff going on in my life that I can’t really blog about.”

I didn’t get that. For one thing (I would say to myself), isn’t that the whole point of blogging? To talk about all the stuff that’s going on in our lives?

For another thing, my favorite bloggers, the ones I follow voraciously and miss when they’re quiet too long, tend to be the sort of unabashed oversharers who will write in great detail about, say, the capricious workings of their lady-plumbing or the bizarre sociopathic tendencies of their cat. How could there be ANYTHING that these folks would be too embarrassed to blog about??

Well, now I get it. It’s one thing to place your own personal tragedies and comedies on display for all the world to see. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to drag other members of your community into the spotlight with you.

I’ve never really been part of a community before, so this was seriously an eye-opening revelation for me. Bear with me as I marvel at the intricate and fragile web of diplomacy and artifice that apparently holds modern civilization together. Pardon my transfixed silence as I come to terms with the constant manipulations, the casual betrayals, the almost unconscious every-man-for-himself jockeying for position.

Okay, that sounds a bit melodramatic. I haven’t lost faith in humanity’s capacity for goodness, and I still believe that the overwhelming majority of people really do mean well. After all my experiences of the past year, how could I not? But just between you and me, Dear Internet, I am beginning to lose patience with people who KNOW the way Christians are supposed to behave and yet continually justify their own selfish or just-plain-mean choices.

There have been three or four separate, unrelated incidents in the past couple of months, all involving me and folks from my church, that have left me scratching my head at the total disregard some humans have for the basic rights and feelings of other humans. It would be an overstatement to say that I was actually hurt by any of the incidents, because, let’s face it, I don’t even know what it would take to hurt me anymore. Here’s hoping I never have to find out. But I’m beginning to understand why so many good Christians don’t care much for church people: you get all the normal flaws and imperfections of regular people, PLUS the breathtakingly blatant hypocrisy, which adds that lovely touch of irony!

Anyway. I’ve probably said more than enough already, so I’ll stop grousing now.

I love my church. I love the people there. I love being a part of helping it grow. I do not love everything that goes on there, but I think that’s probably true of any community.

Seriously though, can’t we all just get along?

Categories: Christianity, Friends, Life | 6 Comments

A Joyful Noise

The worship music at my church is normally recorded and burned to cd each week. I was looking forward to getting our recording of “Blessed Be Your Name” and posting it here, since that’s probably my favorite of all our songs, but OF COURSE the week we sang it something went wonky with the recording equipment and no cd was made.

As it happened, though, that was the day I’d brought my camera and asked Elizabeth to take some pics for the blog. I’d also asked her to get a video recording of “Blessed” when we ran through it during the pre-church warmup session.

“Pan the camera back and forth,” I told her, “so everyone gets into the video.”

I had to laugh when I watched the movie she’d made: she’d followed my instructions diligently, WHOOSHING the camera from side to side throughout the entire recording. It’s a bit dizzying.

Anyway, I’ve uploaded the video to YouTube. The picture quality is horrible and the sound wasn’t as polished during the warmup as it was during the actual worship session (and the sound quality on my little digital camera isn’t stellar anyway) and we didn’t make it all the way through this practice run without flubbing the timing and having to stop…but it’s still a fine, fine song and I wanted to share it.

If you start to get dizzy from the whooshing back and forth, just close your eyes for a minute. Next time I’ll clarify to Elizabeth that the camera doesn’t need to be in constant motion through the entire video!

Categories: Christianity, Friends, Life, Music | 1 Comment

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