

…still. We’re on Day Four now.



If I had a real car that weighed more than 75lbs I would be able to move about freely by now, but my little toy Saturn is rendered helpless by the few inches of snow that remain. A fellow from next door helped me drive/push/coax it as far as my back gate where Steve’s truck tracks end, so I think I should be able to make it to church tomorrow. Funny how much I’ve come to look forward to that every Sunday.
Yesterday my nice neighbor, who has actual grownup vehicles, was able to get out and into town, and she brought me some milk because we were running low. I have been constantly surprised and warmed by the kindness of people. In retrospect I cannot believe how socially isolated I let myself become during my marriage.
Snow damage toll: several trees lost branches, but there’s nothing too catastrophic. My stand of redshank took the heaviest damage and the big pine in my front yard comes a close second, but least nothing landed on the roof.
My house is very clean right now. I’ve had nothing else to do.
This seems like a good time to pull out all the bits and pieces that I’ve thought would be cool to blog about but weren’t worth having posts of their own. Like how Elizabeth was Student Of The Month in November, and how I’ve had to lock all the chickens back up because one bold coyote got hungry enough to come right onto the property and start stealing chickens out from under my dogs’ noses. He got two pullets before I realized what was going on and locked up the henhouse.
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Things the Internet magically knows about me:
|
In a Past Life… |
![]() You Were: A Happy Go Lucky Monk. Where You Lived: Alaska. How You Died: Decapitation. |
I can totally believe that I was a monk in my past life. I can see myself now, quietly tending my garden in some sunwashed courtyard, the gentle warbling of birdsong providing a peaceful soundtrack to my simple contemplations.
But ALASKA? I. think. not.
Decapitation? Absolutely, if I lived in Alaska. The other monks got fed up listening to me whine about all the damn snow. It’s just a question of which one of them snapped first, and what sharp utensil he was holding.
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Other things the Internet magically knows about me: I am Probably A Woman.
We guess https://dsilkotch.wordpress.com/ is written by a woman (52%), however it’s quite gender neutral.
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Anagrams for “Debora Silkotch:”
Horseback Dolt I. Hmph.
Cobra Hiked Lost. Okay.
Bad Shock Toiler. Heh.
Rabid Sock Hotel. Whoa there, all our socks are freshly laundered, thankyouverymuch.
Broad Chokes Lit. Everyone’s a critic.
Ethics Look Drab. Some days…they really do.
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Here are some Google search terms that brought folks to my blog recently:
how to sleep with mice in house
Try my method: get cats
5 fosmo rules
There are rules?? Crap, I’ve probably been doing it all wrong!
“christmas” “words” “list of”
“I’ve” “included” “this one” “only” to “mock” their “unnecessary use” of “quotes.”
expecting hard what will happen to my watermelon
I feel you, my friend.
what the hell moments
This person definitely came to the right blog.
mummified baby in glasses
Um. I got nothing here.
coloring for canaries
Dude, just give him some old newspapers to read like everyone else does.
upbeat christmas snogs
I could use a few upbeat Christmas snogs myself. Where’s my mistletoe?
men in ballet flats
I…have nothing to add to that image.
* * * * *
If there were any chance of anyone seeing me naked in the foreseeable future, I would totally want to do this:

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And I think that’s all I have today. Must go huddle in front of my woodstove now and thaw out my fingers.
I don’t usually post memes, but I stumbled across this one this morning and got a good laugh.
The concept is simple: you do a Google search for your own name followed by the word needs. Also, I found that you get better results if you use quotes (ie, my search was for “Debora needs”).
Then you post thirteen things that Google says you need.
I was unable to track down the creator of this meme, or I’d give them credit. Anyway, here we go:
1. Debora needs orderly landscaping.
This is sadly true. A retaining wall or two would do wonders for my sloping property, and heaven knows I need to mow down all that wild buckwheat. One does the best one can, you know.
2. Debora needs one of those UV bulbs to ward off the winter blues.
This is very likely true as well. Most winters, usually sometime in February, I succumb to a deep blue funk that’s at least partly brought on by sunlight deprivation. Maybe I should look into that UV bulb thing.
3. Debora needs an injection every six hours.
HEY NOW! Let’s not get crazy here. Put the needles down and let’s talk about this!
4. Debora needs sunshine!
It’s just like Google knows me.
5. Debora needs help, she is not who she pretends to be.
Damn. Thanks for blowing my cover, Google! }:^(
6. Debora needs money.
This is not strictly true. Steve has been generous and prompt with the child support, and my financial needs are being adequately met.
That said, if I HAD more money, there’s a whole bunch of stuff on my To Do list that would get done a heck of a lot sooner. Like orderly landscaping, for example.
7. Debora needs a new Wheelchair.
Hah! I’m not quite there yet, but thanks for the thought.
8. Debora needs to turn 6 more or gain 150 more Werewolf points to reach the next level: Berserker Werewolf!
Um. Okay.
Berserker Werewolf.
You know, there’s a part of me that’s really drawn to that image.
9. Debora needs some chicken soup.
I certainly wouldn’t turn it down. :^)
10. Debora needs prayers/thoughts.
Yes indeedy, folks. Can I get an amen?
11. Debora needs to create a strict budget.
Dude. It doesn’t get much stricter than this. Seriously.
I mean, I suppose I could remove all the lightbulbs in the house and decree that bedtime is now at dusk, but beyond that I’m not seeing a lot of room for strictifying my budget.
12. Debora needs to fire her mother as her manager.
Had to do that about fourteen years ago, for the sake of my sanity.
13. Debora needs to start eating cheeseburgers again.
Thanks for the concern, Google, but I prefer actual food. Besides, McDonald’s and the rest aren’t exactly hurting from the absence of MY patronage, as far as I can tell.
So there you have it: 13 things Google thinks I need. Try it with your own name, you might get a laugh or two at how well (or little) Google knows you.
So how DOES one earn Werewolf points, anyway? I am so on that.
Before the addition was added on two years ago, Luke and Elizabeth used to share a bedroom. They had a set of bunks in there, but they usually preferred to share a bed as well. When Luke was finally presented with his own room, he loved everything about it…except sleeping alone. For a while there Elizabeth had mercy on him and would come in and sleep with him, but eventually she decided she was just too old for that and Luke was on his own. And oh, the lonely hardship he so vocally suffered.
He more or less got used to sleeping alone, but he never liked it. We tried to get one of the dogs to stay with him, but they want to be outside at night. Finally I asked him if he would like to have a small breed of puppy, to sleep with him and be a little friend when Elizabeth doesn’t feel like playing with him. Luke said no, he wanted a cat.
I had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, our dogs see cats as food, not family. I wasn’t sure we could convince them not to eat any small animal we brought into the house. On the other hand, we really need a cat or two. Gericault and Brodie keep our property admirably free of squirrels and rabbits, but apparently hunting mice is beneath them; I’ve had to start putting rat poison in the cupboards. So, a mouser or two would be very welcome here.
When I heard that a friend of a friend had a cat that had just produced an unwanted litter of kittens, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to let them know I’d take a couple (Elizabeth wanted one too, and kittens seem to do better in pairs) when they were old enough to leave their mom.
And Saturday that long-awaited call finally came!
So yesterday, after church and before our Sunday dinner, I took the kids over to pick out their new babies.
Choosing turned out to be pretty simple. I asked the kids to please try to fall in love with female kittens, because they make better mousers than male. Turns out all the kittens were an identical jet black but one, a little striped tabby that Luke was immediately smitten with. He chose that one and Elizabeth chose the only other female in the litter.
Luke named his “Stripes,” and Elizabeth’s is “Soot.”
When we got them home, the first thing we did was introduce them to the dogs. Gericault apparently assumed that I was offering him a snack, and matter-of-factly helped himself to Soot. My thundering yell of “NO!!” made him drop her in confusion, and I smacked his nose for good measure. This was a bitter blow to Gericault’s deeply sensitive soul, and for a while after that he pretended to be completely unaware of the kittens’ existence. If I put a kitten right in front of him, he would turn his head away and study the artwork on the walls or whatever.
Brodie seemed to grasp right off that the kittens were off-limits, and he’s shown no interest in them at all since the introduction.
So far so good. We shut the kittens in the back of the house while we ate supper, and then the kids brought them out to snuggle on the couch while they watched a Looney Toons dvd.
This eventually proved to be too much for poor Gericault, who is not prepared to give up his position as Family Snuggler-In-Chief.
But he managed to restrain his jealousy and not do anything antisocial.
The kids love having the kittens to sleep with, and the kittens seem to be settling in pretty well. Other than a mild case of sticker shock when I saw what high-quality kitten food costs these days, I have no complaints. I suppose the real test will come when we start letting the little tykes have the run of the house and Gericault inevitably finds himself alone with them one day, but so far everyone’s getting along fine.
Find the mice, kitties. Tasty tasty mice! Real cats don’t need no stinkin’ cat food!
And welcome to the family. :^)