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Yes, I'm still at it, making the posable animal dolls and working on my third novel. Hint: it takes place in a small Oregon town by a lake that covers a town sunken by the Army Corps of Engineers back in the 20th century. (I promise, when it's edited, it will not contain run-on sentences such as this.) There are ghosts, a murderer, Bigfoot, and a host of eccentric characters. Also, some great sex scenes, which my writer's group will attest to. Here's some of what's been going on this winter:
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 Yep, this is also me. After a busy summer season making and selling my posable animal dolls (and, I'll admit, struggling with my third novel), I've been Lumber Jane-in'. It's my ongoing crusade to keep our small forest clean of the dead wood that constitutes wildfire fuel. I'm calling it "Hayleyanne's Wildfire Fuel Reduction and Home Heating Campaign."
We've got a fine assortment of oak, madrone and Douglas fir that have fallen to draught over the past few years. There's a lot to do, but I pace myself. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to spend time outside amongst the wild turkeys, deer, squirrels and possums.  Sofie 2004 - 2022 We sent our dear, sweet Sofie over the Rainbow Bridge yesterday. She was a princess in every sense of the word, and a tough little cowgirl under all that fur, living to the ripe old age of 18.
I adopted her in 2007, shortly before her 4th birthday. She stood her ground a number of times with the addition of Sparky and Possum, the “little brothers,” the arrival of Wayne and his two Texas cats, and a years-long home renovation. She went on to become our muse, with the distinction of being The Only Cat allowed in our respective studios. Happy trails to sweet little Sofie, our princess, our supervisor, our “rules” girl, my soul sister.  The house phone beeps a text message, waking me up just before 5 a.m. this morning. Well heck, I had to get up anyway. I check the phone and it's a “dirty” text inviting us to come and "taste" someone. We usually press the Report/Delete/Block option when this happens, but today I feel like responding. It's a chilly April morning with snow that should have been falling with great alacrity back in February, during ski season.
Thank you for your interest. Unfortunately, since neither of us feels compelled to “taste” an ill, psychotic loser like you, we suggest that you peddle your hopelessly flawed self elsewhere. Of course, Wayne has talked me out of actually sending this text in response, but should you want to copy and paste this for your own use, please feel free!  Skeezix, aka Adventure Man and our spiritual advisor, went over the Rainbow Bridge on Wednesday, November 24. He was 16. He spent his early years in Austin, Texas, then moved up to Medford, Oregon, where he regaled the local woodland creatures of his armadillo-chasing tales. Settling into life in the Northwest, he enjoyed tree-climbing, gopher-hunting, nail-sharpening, and often followed me out to the woods to help gather kindling.
In his last months he became obsessed with food, so honed in his skills that he could often snatch an entire enchilada off a plate if our backs were turned. He also developed a taste for PG Tips tea, daily knocking over Wayne’s Yeti mug to lick the spilled tea. So it was hard to say goodbye to a cat this lucid, although the physical signs of his withering body were morbidly apparent. Still, the day before, Tuesday, he followed me out the woodpile and trotted back with a satisfied smirk after taking a quick dump in the kindling tent. Wednesday morning his last act was to turn Wayne’s Yeti mug over one last time, just for good measure. He was a real trooper, ready to take on every pitfall or adventure that came his way. He’s left a huge, silent hole in our household, making this Thanksgiving somewhat somber. We will miss him every day. I was scheduled to exhibit my Dreamland dolls in a festival in downtown Medford this coming October. It was going to be a whole lot of fun - art, music, food... Well, the event was just postponed until 2022 because of COVID, and our local hospitals being stuffed to capacity with ill people who didn't want to get the vaccine. The producers of the event did the right thing and honestly have our safety in their utmost thoughts. I'm just getting really tired of these whack-job anti-vaxxers/anti-maskers deciding what our lives are going to be like. It's almost as if they're getting off on the power they have over the rest of us. Grrr! So here's my latest letter to the editor of our paper. Also, I got a mention on the cover's teaser sweet spot!   Gertie, the possum. It all sounds pretty terrible on the news, although we keep saying that we’re 100 miles away from the Bootleg fire. Seriously, (knock on wood), it’s been a good summer so far, as regards smoke. It’s blowing east. Sorry, east coasties. In the future, please refrain from calling us the loose nuts who rolled out west when they shook the country. We’ve got smoke and we’re not afraid to use it.
So it’s quiet here – not a single lawnmower or chain saw. One thing I suggest to avoid at all cost, is pulling a muscle in one’s shoulder. Let me repeat that: Do not, under any circumstances, pull a muscle in your shoulder if you can possibly avoid it! Still imagining myself to be 27 years old, I tried to power my way through an already worn shoulder blade by going to the gym for the first time in 15 months, followed, the next day, by an hour of weed whacking. Since then, every stroke of the stylus, every click of the mouse = agony! I finally surrendered and went to the doctor, at Wayne’s suggestion, when I cried while he applied Biofreeze. Really, there’s nothing one can do about this kind of injury except wait it out, basically. I got some muscle relaxers, Tylenol and exercises from the doctor. The muscle relaxers made me kind of dopey, though, so I gave them up and took it easy instead. Worked at half-speed. I sighed as the star thistle slowly began to take over sections of the front yard. I did get some CBD capsules, which helped. Meanwhile, Dreamland Zinkand has gotten a great response at the Talent Evening Market. My favorite thing is watching people break into a smile when they come by the booth. Okay, my second favorite. I like it even more when they buy a doll! Still, if my life’s mission is simply to make people smile and laugh a little, then I guess I’m doing okay.  After an 8-year hiatus, Wayne and I returned to the Dummy Downhill competition at Mt. Ashland this spring. In keeping with our tradition of Wizard of Oz characters, I presented Wayne with detailed technical plans for Dorothy. We still had the ski platform we used on Miss Gulch On Her Bicycle back in 2013. I had the outfit, which you may have seen in a previous post when I dressed as Zombie Dorothy for a Halloween fundraiser a few years back. The dress is pretty scratchy though, with annoying underlying taffeta, and it never really fit that great anyway, so I figured I’d surrender it to the Dummy Downhill instead. I spent the day after Jab #2 last week fortifying the platform and painting yellow bricks onto it, as well as securing a pair of homemade ruby slippers to the surface. Later I built a skeleton out of PVC pipe and spent the rest of the week stuffing her with towels and dressing her while Wayne worked on her face. It was a perfect day for the event; warm, the snow was soft, and the sky was a bluebird. We parked on the southern edge of the parking lot, facing Mt. Shasta in the distance – my favorite spot where I’ve taken my breaks this past winter, your car being the “lodge.” It’s been an odd year, but they had wi-fi all over the mountain and I saved a lot of money I would normally have spent on beer at the bar, and Sweet Potato Waffle Fries. Lordy, how I missed those! Still, it was remarkable how they managed to keep the mountain – aka my Happy Place – open in spite of the pandemic. Shutdowns and face coverings don’t faze the outdoor sports enthusiast. Due to the lodge being closed, the parking lot at Mt. Ashland became a socially-distanced outdoor party this year. Wayne carried the yellow brick road base up to the staging area and after I glued Dorothy’s head on, I carried her body up there, along with my tool bag. We set her in her ruby slippers and glued her ankles, took some pictures, anchored her to the snow and went back to the car for snacks. A while later we went back up to watch the design-judging and see the other entries. Nearly twenty of them, including all sorts of outlandish designs. We got our launching positions and began lining up our entries. By this time, it had become a party atmosphere with all of us chatting about our dummies, hanging with friends and marveling at the great weather. The spectator area was filling up, as people brought chairs to set in the snow by the ramp. The launching of dummies began at 2 p.m. A drone hovered over the jump taking pictures. The general manager, Hiram Towle, was the DJ of the day under an EZ-Up tent, supplying a steady stream of humorous banter between launchings as he described each dummy. There were a few crashes, but most everyone’s dummy made it over the jump at the end. Then it was our turn. “I’ve got this,” Wayne assured me. I surrendered the pull-rope to Wayne, then went down the hill and positioned myself to shoot the video. After her introduction by Hiram, Wayne gave Dorothy a good push. She went straight down the middle of the ramp and got to the jump, nearly pausing at the top, then took a tiny jump and went over. Whew! Wayne rushed down the hill to meet me and we cheered on the rest of the entries.  Then there was a half-hour break while the judges made their final decisions. Wayne went down to the demolition pile to retrieve Dorothy’s head while I went back to the car and cracked open a beer. There were so many great entries, I thought, many of them getting bigger air over the jump than Dorothy. We probably won’t win a prize this time. We hung out at the car eating cookies, then returned for the awards ceremony at 3. On our way back people were congratulating us, so the awards ceremony must have gone really fast and we missed it. We got to the tent and were told that we’d won second place!!! We got two really nice Yeti mugs, which is great since I lost my old one and these are the more expensive kind that fit in my car cup holder. The winner of the day was “The Flying Ace,” aka Snoopy atop his house. He got the best air of any of them, which is interesting as there were more projectile-shaped entries (one of which hit Dorothy in the demolition pile straight on, decapitating her). Snoopy really did win the day, though, and his house seemed to explode in mid-air after sailing over the jump. A season pass for next year went to his creator. We collected our awards and a few stickers, got our pictures taken with our Yetis, then went back to the parking lot where a snowmobile had arrived, hauling a flatbed with all the wrecked dummies. We salvaged the ski-sled base/yellow brick road, and most of her mangled skeleton. The scratchy dress survived somehow, as did her wig. We put the wreckage back in the car and ordered a take-and-bake from The Great American Pizza Company on the way home. Later the event aired on KOBI-5 News, including Dorothy! It was a hoot! The next morning we opened the local Medford Mail Tribune to see a picture of Dorothy headed down the hill with Wayne standing at the top. I must add, that considering my recent publication of Meteor Falls which includes a fictitious "Barrel Shoot" over a river, how could I not participate in the Dummy Downhill?  Several chickens broke into a small craft studio in Southern Oregon, ransacking the fabrics and notions. They were later apprehended by the studio’s owner when spotted cavorting through the forest flaunting the yield of their stolen goods – stylish, dapper outfits they'd created for themselves. Check out these new chickens at Dreamland Zinkand!   It's an expression I nicked from our friends in the UK. Jabbed. Thanks to our local medical clinic, I was able to make two appointments back to back for Wayne and I to get our COVID vaccines. Using the guerrilla phone tactics I remembered from trying to get an appointment at the Women’s Health Center in San Francisco back in the 70s, I called our facility right at their opening, 8:00 a.m. Easy-peasy! Compared to the stories I'd read about waiting in hour-long, drive-through lanes at the county Expo, we were lucky. Our appointments were in four days!
We arrived at the La Clinica facility on time and there were maybe a half-dozen other people there. The staff was friendly, competent, and had us out of there barely a half-hour later, including the 15-minute wait for any possible reactions to the Moderna vaccine we received. Later on, though, I began to feel the effects. I became tired, sluggish, and sore all over. All low-key, but still, it felt like I had a touch of the thing I was getting vaccinated against. I’ve reacted more to a flu shot than I’ve ever experienced the actual flu, so I’m used to having a healthy-as-a-horse status. Plus I knew that I wasn’t actually ill. After several hours of working on my dolls, I discovered an intense need for chocolate. “Surely that will get me out of this purgatory of vaccine reaction,” I thought. Still in my work clothes, pants and shirt dusted with the remnants of paper-clay dust, I drove into town in search of the remedy. Again, most unusual for me. I never go into town in work clothes! I returned with a couple of It’s Its, a delicious and thoroughly decadent ice cream treat from San Francisco, available at our local grocery. I spent the rest of the day sluggish, sleepy, slightly sore, and thinking about little else than the It’s It I planned to eat after dinner. Wayne was having little to no reaction, so I talked him into cooking us a frozen pizza. After we devoured our dessert treats, I fell asleep at around 8:30 p.m. Today, the next day, I still feel a little punky, but glad to be vaccinated. Our next visit is in a month. My friends tell me the reaction from the second dose is worse, so I plan on generously stocking up on chocolate beforehand. |
Here's where I expound on whatever I'm passionate about at the time. I welcome your comments, as long as you're not hateful, a terrorist, or attempting to pedal work-at-home offers.
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