Cross posted with my LiveJournal account.

Also, for those of you who’ve left notes, I don’t have the bandwidth to reply – every time I try I time out – so I’ll do so when I’m home on Monday.

TRAIN HELP:
I know someone among my flist is a model train afficionado, but I don’t remember who. So this is a general plea.

In the brooder house at my husband’s family farm, we found a metric assload of old model trains. The vast majority of it is standard HO stuff, but there are some larger engines (O or N scale I think?) and track, and I can’t really identify them. Some of the track is three-rail with the middle rail being ‘live,’ like the old Marklin and early Lionel models, and then some is larger than HO, and two rail, but tall.

I’m fairly certain none of it is valuable, especially after sitting in a mouse-infested chicken coop for 20 years, but I’m curious to know what I have, because the metal trains are worth restoring, even if just to play with. And I was wondering if the three-rail compatible engines would run on the Marklin track I already own.

Can anyone help?

Last night brought us the year’s first dusting of snow – barely more than frost, really, about a quarter inch frosting the rooftops, ground, and cars with sparkly whiteness. As much as I hate the cold, I have to admit that snow does make everything look prettier, and more serene.

* * * * *

It’s been a trying couple of days. Fuzzy’s father is intractable about so many things. We keep reminding him the house has to be empty by 11/3, but that the outbuildings have more time; he keeps diving into the garage, the barn, the chicken coop, the brooder’s house, to pull out things he wants the auctioneer to see.

Monday morning, Fuzzy took me on a walking tour of the property, and identified all these buildings, none of which house animals anymore, just mounds and mounds of the kind of crap a midwestern farmer who lived through the depression considers to be “useful someday.”

An example:

HENRY (6’9″, 76 years old, my father-in-law): There’s a refrigerator out in the old hog barn that works good, just needs a new switch, and those are in a box in the chicken coop.

BILL(6’5″, 44, paunchy, my brother-in-law): If it needs a switch than it doesn’t ‘work good,’ does it, Dad?

HENRY: Well, but someone might need it as an extra. We could take it with us and fix it and sell it in Sioux Falls.

BILL: Dad, we discussed this. We’re not bringing any appliances, you’re buying new things for the new house. You and Mom like new things and it’s time to have them. You’re going to be living in town, and you might get company.

HENRY: Your mother won’t want company.

BILL: Dad…we need to concentrate on the house. We need to have everything out of it by the end of the weekend.

HENRY: Well your mother is already sanding the bed set up in your sister’s room, she thinks it’s worth money.

It went on in the same vein, and Fuzzy’s having similar conversations, though he isn’t quite as forceful as Bill can be – symptom of being the youngest, and not living close by, and such.

* * * * *

We took a field trip to DeSmet, SD yesterday morning to tour the Laura Ingalls Wilder houses. The first is the old Surveyor’s House, mentioned in By the Shores of Silver Lake, which is always smaller than I expect, and yet, Laura considered it a mansion, and until she was married, it was the largest house she ever lived in. It’s a lean-to (like a mud-room), a main room, a bedroom, and a pantry, and then a sleeping loft upstairs. The tour guide takes you on a brief history of how old Laura was when she lived in each place, goes over the timeline, then explains several events from the books.

– She showed us the quality of the wheat that Ma milled in the coffee grinder during The Long Winter
– She explained the corner “whatnot shelf” and showed us the china sheperdess, and then explained that Ma always had a red and white tablecloth, and used a scrap of red fabric to color the kerosene in lamps – to brighten the home.
– She told us where things were in relation to other things, and reminded us that at one point 15 men slept on the floor of the house (for $0.25 each) in the region’s first (unofficial) bed and breakfast.

We had the opportunity to poke about, a bit. On the floor of the lean-to there’s a square marked in blue, to illustrate WHY Laura thought this house was big: a 10×8 square – the usual size of a claim shanty. And then, extended, a 14×8 square, the size of the claim shanty Pa actually built out on the prairie. 14×8, btw, is smaller than most modern master bedrooms – just the bedroom part – and in that space was a cookstove, Pa and Ma’s bed, table and chairs for six, and Ma’s rocker. There couldn’t have been much room to walk.

After the Surveyor’s House, we followed the guide to the Ingalls Home, where Pa and Ma lived out their lives. Laura never wrote about it, because she never lived in it, but it started as a two room house, and ended up as a two story, five-bedroom home. The kitchen’s been turned into a museum, and that’s where many of the family’s items are – brushes, name cards, autograph books, the little glass boxes mentioned in the books, etc.

This house feels warm and cozy, but it’s jarring to see how severe they all looked. And then, Ma and Laura were my height (five feet), so everything is built for people that small, in terms of counter height and shelves and such.

* * * * *

We had lunch at Taco Johns, where Fuzzy handed me the Huron Tourist Guide, which I found to be entertaining, because of items like “game cleaning room” listed in the amenities of local hotels. Also, all the motels take dogs, and offer kennels for bird dogs, and there are several locals who run dude ranches for pheasant hunters.

(I just looked outside. Apparently it’s still snowing)

Last night was the first night the house was COLD, mainly because every other night Henry’s been feeding the wood stove, which heats the house. We were begging him to burn stuff, but he smiled and said, “Why would I stay up all night burning trash when I can just turn the furnace on for you?” So he did, and we opened the register in our room, but there’s no register in the bathroom, and let me tell you, cast iron gets REALLY DAMNED COLD. So does porcelain, for that matter.

* * * * *
I want a bunny. On our walk the other day, a large brown and caramel and white Jack Rabbit came out to say hello, and let me get really close before it decided we might be a threat after all. It was so fluffy, and sweet, and no, I don’t want to take a wild one home, but I want a bunny. (Fuzzy reminds me the dogs would eat a bunny. Zorro wouldn’t – the bunny we saw was bigger than he is – but Miss Cleo probably would.)

On a side note: The cows across the way? One of them has been mooing incessantly for DAYS. And NIGHTS. Cows should so be seen and not heard.

* * * * *
It’s nearly eight, and I’m going to curl up for another hour before leaving this toasty warm room for the arctic conditions of the hall and living room, and a shower (in the basement, where it’s warm). I’m hoping to venture out and snap pix of the snow before the sun comes out and it melts, but don’t hate me if it doesn’t happen.

(I have pictures of other things, but I don’t have enough signal to post them).

I’d forgotten the way the wind never ceases on the prairie, but is a constant presence, sometimes droning, somethings blustering or wuthering, always trying to seek entry in the most secret crevices, the most precious nooks, always bending nature to it’s will – or if not all of nature, at least the tall grassy kind. And the tall trucky sort of non-nature, but…um….yeah.

Am writing this from the front bedroom of the farm in Wolsey, SD, population 418, and it’s been a brutal trip physically, as well as emotionally. How do you help the person you love most in the world come to terms with the knowledge that his hometown is dying, that his high-school isn’t even there anymore, and that the new building erected on the old site now holds the combined schools of two towns, and there still isn’t enough to have a football team every year?

How do you watch him realize that his family is aging, that his brother has gone three shades grayer and more weary, that his father and mother are, in fact mortal, and that yes, everything is smaller at home, not just physically, but because your horizons have been expanded and your perceptions changed?

How do you do that, and balance it with light humor, and still crack the productivity whip and make sure he’s not spending so much time drifting through memories that NOW becomes THEN?

I wish someone would tell me.

In the meantime, I’ll lie hear and listen to the comforting sound of my husband’s breathing, and the mournful keening of the wind.

14-hour car rides are brutal, even with the people you’re with graciously let you sleep in the front passenger seat in exchange for navigation and disc-jockey duty. We left Texas later than planned on Saturday because I was vascillating about even GOING after all, and then at the vet/kennel we had to get medieval with Miss Cleo who took issue with being put in a cage. Mind you, these cages have soft beds, water, and heat, so they’re hardly uncomfortable, but Miss C. is clingy. Miss C. is also 27 pounds of Staffie/Poodle/Cocker/Chi, and has Very Sharp Teeth and Very Sharp Claws.

By comparison, Zorro Dogg went into his cage just fine, but was already plotting his escape twenty seconds later. I’m sure he’ll end up spending the weekend curled up on the pile of freshly-dried towels in the kennel laundry room. He’s sneaky that way.

Still, the look of betrayal in their eyes was horrible, and I missed them five minutes later.

Ah well, I’ll come home to puppy kisses and dogs who’ve had heartworm tests done without ME having to be the person with the muzzle.

* * * * *
Friday night’s CSz show rocked even though our audience was simply evil. (And I say this without malice, as I had friends in the front row). We’d made the decision to be over the top with energy, and had the most kick-ass warm up, ever, playing “Yes” in ways never played before, and full-contact Woosh! Bong!

We opened with Schoolyard Insults (“Defenestrating Lovely Calliope”) which we won, partly because our team has a bigger vocabulary, and partly because EL got brown-bagged.

We played Blind Line (which was probably the best we’ve ever done with that, having made the decision to use big characters, and having Bob (working sound) take our cues for “Back when we were in…” and initiate cut-scenes. We also played Interrogation, and I totally thought I’d get yelled at in notes for being too quiet, but Rob was kind – apparently if he laughs he forgives a lot). The blue team played Forward/Reverse and Arms Expert, the latter of which I really hate. It can be clever, but I just think it’s annoying. Forward/Reverse however, was amazing – watching TC almost get an anneurism pretending to lift things is never boring.

We played Five Things, which we lost, partly because the words were hard, and partly because we ran out of time. I was noted for not getting into the craziness at the end, for which I had a reason, but was told, “doesn’t matter.” So it won’t happen again.

Half time was spent catching our breaths.

Blue played the catch-up round, we all played Beastie Rap (which I love, because it’s quick and high energy), and we finished the night with Hey Waiter. And my team – Red – won, which is just groovous.

EL and I both believe we play better in red.
Rob thinks we’re both nuts.
I think we’re all right.

Went to dinner with just Fuzzy and BIL, and then ran into troupe-mates in parking garage. Chatted for a while. Gave my untouched side dish of pasta with mushrooms to J, because I’d taken it to go without thinking about it, went home, and went to bed.

* * * * *

We finally rolled into Sioux Falls around 2:15, and I vaguely remember stumlbing to bed, but it was so hot in here, and quiet and we were exhausted…Fuzzy’s still sleeping…everyone’s out at church now, and I’m posting this from someone’s unsecured wifi, since my aircard barely gets a signal.

Mind you, most of Nebraska is less singalfied than the Mojave desert, so this was not entirely unexpected.

I’m off to take a shower now, and oh – there are bunnies in the back yard hopping around and generally looking adorable. I miss wild bunnies.

Ta!

I woke at 6:30, my head both fuzzy from sinus pressure, and abuzz with thoughts, stories, ideas. This is unusual as I’m not a morning person, and doubly so as I went to bed around 3:00.

My first action, since both dogs were still snoring, was to grab my laptop from it’s usual location on the bedside table, and as I was doing so, there was a flash under the blinds. I passed it off as an illusion – the reflection from the VAIO insignia on the top cover of the laptop – but then it happened again.

Straining my ears, I listened past the white noise of the humidizer we keep running in the bedroom, and head the gentle rolling rumblings of morning thunder. (Morning Thunder, btw, used to be a flavor of Celestial Seasonings tea .) Closing my eyes, I listened as the reverberations crescendoed and decrescendoed, ebbing and flowing like the ocean breaking over a slick rock jetty.

The dogs sensed that I was alert, or heard the thunder, and asked to go out, and so we did, the three of us, and I stood on the back deck and let the first few drops of October rain sniff my hair and kiss my skin, while I mused that the sky was not black or dark, at all, but seemed to be endless layers of lavender tulle.

I sent a silent prayer into the universe – a healing, quenching, balming sort of request – and padded barefoot back to bed, my canine entourage circling my ankles as I walked.

When the early alarm went off, I kissed Fuzzy, and told him to sleep another hour.
And I remain awake, drinking in the natural magic of light, sound, and rain.

Stolen from Blond Girl:
This is a word meaning meme where I write what Blond Girl’s words mean to me. Then I give you a new set of words so you can do the same thing. Fun, huh?

Blond Girl’s words for me:

sunrise – Hope and possibility, and the ultimate proof that even the darkest nights eventually end.
harmony – More than just musical synergy, it’s my version of zen – being at one with myself and the world around me.
affliction – I’m five years old when I hear this word, listening to my mother read about Amy March and her afflicted nose, cured with a clothespin at bedtime.
avocado – For some reason, this fruit means California to me. Dinners with USF friends, guacamole for Fuzzy, and avocado ice cream and Mitchell’s. (I so miss Mitchell’s ice cream). I try not to let it mean 1970’s era apartment decor.

My words for you:

brilliant –
irksome –
perfect –
wind –

Answer in comments, or in your own blog/journal/diary/thing.

Stolen from Da_Zhuang & Rainbowbinky @ LiveJournal

Instructions: Set your music player to “shuffle” or “random,” ask the following questions, and use the songs that come up – without adjusting them – for answers.

How does the world see you?
Voodoo Child (Jimi Hendrix)

Will I have a happy life?
Smile Like You Mean It (The Killers)

What do my friends really think of me?
Happiness Runs (Donovan)

What do people secretly think of me?
Semi-Charmed Life (Third Eye Blind)

How can I be happy?
Beverly Hills (Weezer)

Will I ever have children?
Lullabye for a Stormy Night (Vienna Teng)

What is some good advice for me?
Take the Money and Run (The Steve Miller Band)

How will I be remembered?
Always on Your Side (Sheryl Crow )

What is my signature dancing song?
Another Brick in the Wall (Pink Floyd)

What do I think my current theme song is?
Turn, Turn, Turn (The Byrds)

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Journey of the Sorcerer (The Eagles)

What song will play at my funeral?
Here’s Where the Story Ends (The Sundays)

What is my day going to be like?
Rock this Town (Stray Cats)

Assigned long ago from Closer2Myself @ Livejournal:
Instructions: Leave a comment, and I’ll give you a letter and you have to find ten songs that start with that letter and post them to your journal. I got R.

1. Reallie Rosie (Carol King)
2. Rebel Yell (Billy Idol)
3. Red Letter Day (LFO)
4. Redneck Woman (Gretchen Wilson)
5. Reflection (Christina Aguilera)
6. Rent (from “Rent)
7. Rest in Peace (from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Once More, With Feeling”)
8. Rock ‘N’ Roll High School (The Ramones)
9. Rock You Like a Hurricance (Scorpions)
10. Roll to Me (Del Amitri)

…at least it’s the new color of my hair, as of about 4:30 this afternoon. I spent the afternoon with Natalie at Aveda in Cedar Hill, having my hair unblonded and we chose a lovely chocolatey brown with deep red tones – aka “chestnut.” When were were looking at pictures of colors, I explained that I always felt most confident when my hair had red in it, but I wanted to go dark, this time. “Not too dark, though,” I added, “because with my pale skin color I look goth if it’s too dark.” She said, “I know just the shade,” and went to mix, and, as always, came back with a result that I loved, even if it did look rather like dried blood around the hairline while she was painting it on.

I love Aveda, even though they’re pricey, because they totally pamper you. When I go to the salon, I’m offered tea, water, iced tea, or wine (their “Comforting Tea” is the best). They bring me berries or shards of organic chocolate. When I’m their for a salon service, I get a fifteen minute chair massage for free. And even when I’m just getting a manicure, they do my makeup for me. Sometimes I buy stuff, sometimes I don’t, but they’re happy to do it, either way. Also, their products are all-natural, herbal, non-smelly, and non-toxic.

But this isn’t an ad, really. It’s me gushing about how much I love my new hair. I mean, even the guys in the troupe noticed it. How cool is that?

I finished just in time for us to hit Panera for a light lunch – my first food of the day – before heading downtown, where we didn’t do a seating chart, and things were chaotic because of it. The show was great though, and I owe Jenn big for working bar, because I just wasn’t into it (I spent a lot of time tying orange wrist bands onto our audience members, instead, as the woman who owns the building was charging a cover and was requiring the bands in order to enter the bathrooms). Downtown was a mess, btw, because it was Texas vs. Oklahoma weekend (Texas won), and while we had a late show scheduled, it was called at the last minute because there were too many drunken college students and not enough paying folk.

Instead, BigE took headshots of a bunch of us, for the website, tried to get me to do sultry looks, but that was destroyed because the guys were making me laugh, etc.

A bunch of us went out to dinner (well, not dinner, really, dessert) after that, and got distracted, until I looked at my watch and realized it was after one. My feet hurt, from wearing stupid shoes, and I’m tired, but I had fun tonight.

Tomorrow, Fuzzy’s brother arrives in town for a conference, and after that we’ll be road tripping to SoDak to retrieve things from the farm, and see everyone.

One final thing before I go to bed. There’s a meme going around LiveJournal (in particular) and the ‘net (in general) asking people to post something in their blogs if they believe in gay rights. I think the meme is stupid, because it states that if you don’t post it you must disagree. Bull. I’m not posting it because I refuse to accept that responding to a meme or not is in any way representative of my personal or political views. (And for the record, I’m for universal equal rights: male, female, gay, straight, Christian, Pagan, none of the above, or any combination: It Doesn’t Matter. As long as the common denominator remains “human” that’s all I care about.)

Thirteen Things about MissMeliss: Why I Love Autumn Crunching leaves, so much fun to shuffle through. Warm sunny days, and cool nights made for snuggling. With the change in seasons, I am always inspired to do more creative things. Sweatshirts come out of hiding. Neighborhood children are not playing in the streets to all hours. Pumpkin products become all the rage. Lamplit afternoons become more likely. New fall shows. I’m not a tv-holic, I’m researching pop culture. Perfect weather for mystery novels. I spend more time playing in the kitchen. The mosquitoes disappear. Eventually. The blogosphere seems to expand. Halloween. Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
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– The problem with working from home is that I watch too much tv, and while I can write some of this off as “research on pop culture” the truth is that I like it for background noise, sometimes.

– And speaking of television, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is my new favorite show. I knew I liked the character of Josh in The West Wing, but apparently I like Bradley Whitford in a lot of projects, and Aaron Sorkin’s writing, while extremely similar to early TWW is quick and sharp, staccato rhythms that feel like verbal tap dancing, and I respond well to that sort of thing.

– Fuzzy didn’t get home til eleven. He ate while I was folding laundry, and then we did pre-cleaning for the maids (because yeah, it’s important to clean your house before the cleaners come. I’m so channeling my Italian grandmother on days like this), and then some sweet together-time, after which I took a shower because I knew I wouldn’t have time this morning, as blogging from bed is oh, so much more important than personal hygiene.

– I finished my shower around 1:10, but had been bitten by a Story Bug while rinsing Aveda cherry almond bark conditioner from my hair with tepid water (makes it shine more), and stayed up til 2:30 writing in the dark bedroom while Fuzzy and the dogs slept next to me.

– I had been reading one of my favorite blogs Swim at Your Own Risk, and my dreams were as sharky as the Pacific in October. Steve Irwin was there too, but I woke before he finished wrestling the great white.

– Morning comes way too soon sometimes.