Monday, December 1, 2008

Thanksgiving: Gravy, Graves, and Sex-Drunk Hoot-Owls

My apologies for taking so long to get my Thanksgiving wishes up for you. Thanksgiving was delightful, but busy—the Most-Eaten dishes (the ones everyone gobbles and raves over—it's different every time) this time were a new one, mushroom pate' surrounded by sliced pears sprinkled with gorgonzola crumbles and walnuts and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette (served with fresh French bread)—and the always popular standby, deviled eggs. [g]

I did the usual fruit-stuffed turkey (a couple of nice people had seen me mention this and asked for the recipe—I don't think you could actually dignify it by calling it a "recipe"; I literally stuff the turkey with fruit (and onions and garlic and baby carrots—but mostly whatever's in the fruit bowl; this year it was apples, oranges, and grapes, and I forgot to buy baby carrots). I don't like bready stuffing or dressing, and since I'm cooking, I get to eat what I like (the main reason for cooking, if you ask me)), but since I was lacking carrots and used oranges (which I usually don't), the bird was even juicier than usual—the benefit of this particular stuffing method is that you never have a dry turkey, and the subsequent gravy is wonderful; light and very flavorful (now I do sort of have a gravy recipe, which I'll post on the website, along with a Thanksgiving excerpt from AN ECHO IN THE BONE—www.dianagabaldon.com)—and consequently arrived on the platter in several pieces [cough].

Well, you're just going to carve it up anyway…though I must here recount an anecdote my husband told me: his mother—a famously good cook, and justly proud of it—had guests one Thanksgiving, and Something Happened to the turkey, causing it to literally collapse. One of the guests viewed the wreckage on the platter, laughed, and said, "Kay, that bird looks like somebody shot it out of the sky with a howitzer!" My mother-in-law—also famously red-headed, and with a famous temper to match—replied, "If you think you can do it better, you son-of-a-b!tch, fix it yourself! Get out of my house!" (My husband says the guest didn't leave, but apologized, and a nice meal was eventually had by all.)

So a lovely time was had by all here, too, followed by a pleasantly langourous evening. Friday I arose refreshed, and—not being reckless enough to go anywhere near a shopping mall on Black Friday—spent the whole day working on manuscripts: writing another 2000 words of AN ECHO IN THE BONE, and copy-editing for my son, who's just finishing up the final stages of his first novel (yes, if and when it gets published, I'll tell you all about it). Followed by a late-night turkey sandwich on whole-wheat bread with sliced pears, walnuts and gorgonzola (and a little mayonnaise to keep the walnuts from falling out), with a glass of white wine—the best part of a Thanksgiving weekend.

Fine. So yesterday, I had it in mind to answer email, finish writing an update for the website, choose an excerpt to post, and possibly begin the Christmas cards (no, don't write to tell me to skip the Christmas cards so I can finish the book; I only send cards to distant relatives, close friends, editors, and agents, and I can manage twenty Christmas cards without slowing my progress appreciably). The universe had other plans.

Yesterday has to have been one of the more surreal days in a life that's contained quite a few. As I was brushing my teeth, my husband came in and suggested that as the weather was nice (it had rained for the preceding three days), we might drive down to Tucson, and visit the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, since we hadn't been there for ages. (This is a wonderful outdoor live "museum," featuring the animals, ethnography, geology, and botany of the Sonoran and Anza-Borrego Desert. We've been members for years, and usually get down there every three or four months. If any of you who live in the area or pass through are interested, here is their website.)

I thought this was a terrific idea. The email and Christmas cards could certainly wait, and if I took a wodge of Sam's manuscript to proof-read in the car, I'd still end up with my evening work hours free and clear to work on ECHO, so why not? (Besides, when you're a writer, you have to prioritize, in order to get the important things done. My personal priorities are 1) family, 2) book, 3) exercise, and 4) garden. You'll notice that "housework," "TV watching," and "taking part in casting discussions" aren't on that list. Going to the ASDM with Doug definitely falls under #1 there, and also neatly takes care of #3, as circumnavigating the whole place is easily a three or four-mile walk.)

So away we went, and had a wonderful time. The weather was ideal—about 68 degrees, clear and bright—and all the animals were out. The animal residents of the Museum are mostly in natural-habitat (very large) enclosures, which means that it's just about as easy to spot them in there as it would be in their natural habitats. We normally manage to see about 2/3 of them, but seldom spot the wild turkeys, the deer, or the coyotes.

We'd been batting a thousand, though, approaching the coyote habitat (which is a huge enclosure liberally studded with rocks, mesquite, cactus and….well, they essentially just put up invisible mesh around a quarter-acre of desert); we'd seen mountain lion, bobcats (gato montes; all the legends and signs are bilingual, and it's very entertaining to back-translate the Spanish names, on occasion. "Cat of the mountains," it means), porcupine, gray fox, wolves (curled up asleep, but still, we saw them), and the turkey (very gorgeous in the sunlight, with his red head and blue and green iridescent feathers—a far cry from the overbred white creatures who end up on Thanksgiving platters—and remind me sometime to tell you the story of my husband, my father-in-law, the cattle round-up, and the ten thousand white turkeys…), and the deer.

So we were making bets on our chances of seeing a coyote—remarking as we did so that in fact, our chances of seeing a coyote were a lot better at home than they were at the ASDM. We live right in the middle of Scottsdale, but coyotes routinely roam our neighborhood; one day we were driving down our street and saw an enormous coyote sitting at the bus stop on the corner, completely nonchalant. I often see them crossing streets in broad daylight, and last New Year's Day, found myself following one up the street—this is a completely urban part of town, mind—while out for a walk, and often hear them carrying on at night. (Coyotes do not actually "howl," btw. Wolves howl. Coyotes gibber, wail, and laugh like maniacs. That's not a figure of speech, either; they laugh like maniacs, and it's one eerie thing to listen to in the dead of night, which is when I usually hear them.)

Well, it was a day in a thousand—we saw not one, but two coyotes, trotting up and down about their business. We also saw the beaver (who was awake, for once), the river otter, prairie dogs, chipmunks, a herd of javelina, and more snakes than you could shake a stick at. (To say nothing of all the cool geology and mineral exhibits, but you can pretty much count on the spectacular chunks of wulfenite, azurite, and malachite still being where you saw them last, waiting patiently to be admired again.)

Rolled home, accompanied by Doug, a Dove ice-cream bar, and a large chunk of son's manuscript (good book, I'm pleased to report). It's nearly winter, and the days are drawing in; it's getting dark by 5:30, which is when we arrived home, and the Great Horned owls were At It already. (Late November/early December is their courting season, and they're hooting to and fro in ecstasy all night long. One of them was sitting in a tall palm tree right next to our house—and if you don't think seeing a Great Horned owl in a palm tree is a slightly surreal experience…)

My first act on returning home, when Sam is visiting, is to greet his dogs (the Little Bad Dogs, aka Charlie the corgi and Otis the pug) and march them directly out back to go potty, as they're very unreliable about this duty if not sternly supervised, dog-door notwithstanding.

We stepped out through the back door of the garage—and they immediately shot for the Back Forty (as we refer to the wild half-acre that forms the back half of our property; there are a couple of horse corrals with a ramada back there, and a tackroom (no, no horses at present; there have been and likely will be again at some point, but none now), but otherwise nothing but eucalyptus trees (the owls adore these), mesquite, palo verde and vast expanses of tumble-weed), barking. I looked to see what they were barking at, didn't spot anything (no surprise), and paused to have a quick look at the garden and draw up a mental chore list for Sunday afternoon (prime gardening time): prune back grapevines, finish harvesting pomegranates (we had a plague of woodpeckers this year, so the crop is much reduced), rip out wads of mint, trim and fertilize the roses…emerging from the garden, I saw that Otis and Charlie were still out back; I could see them under the big eucalyptus, sniffing around.

OK, slight digression here. We had to put down our oldest dog (Really Old. I estimated that in dog years, she was 112. We'd been checking her every morning for the last year, to see if she was still breathing. She was, but having an increasingly hard time of it, poor old thing), Molly, about ten days ago. We bury all the dogs under the big eucalyptus out back, and had planted Molly with due ceremony next to her old pal, Ajax.

It's not unusual for dogs to go smell and scratch at the grave of a recently deceased acquaintance—this behavior usually followed by ceremonially peeing on the gravesite—so I thought that's what Otis and Charlie were about, and strolled out to join them, thinking to pay my respects and put a rose on the grave (the roses do very well this time of year, since it's finally cool enough that the fresh blossoms don't fry on emergence).

Now, it was getting dark, and a good thing, too. For a minute or two, I had no idea what I was looking at. Then I knew what I was looking at, but no idea why I was looking at it. Somebody had shoveled most of the dirt out of Molly's grave, revealing the neat rectangle Doug had made for her—and there was something blobbish, dark, wet and nasty-looking in it. A second later, I realized that the wet-and-nasty was what was left of Molly—this realization aided by the presence of wads of wiry gray hair all over the place (Molly went to the vet's once, and the vet's assistant, passing the door of the exam room, paused and said sympathetically, "Oh—a bad hair day every day, huh?"). The dogs and I were nonplused.

Went and summoned Doug and Sam, with shovels, and we held a hasty reprise of the funeral, this one much less ceremonious, ending in the placement of a chunk of old swimming pool fence over the site to prevent further desecration. Our best guess was that coyotes had dug up and half-devoured the remains—which was rather a sobering thought, as the entire yard is surrounded by a six-foot concrete block and stucco wall. I knew coyotes could jump, but…

Well, no one in the family is what you'd call squeamish, so we repaired inside for a post-Thanksgiving supper of pancakes and turkey with butter and maple syrup (pancakes being Doug's piece de resistance, and very tasty they are, too). Tidied up, read a bit while Doug watched football, tucked him in, and prepared to go lie down for a quick evening nap before starting work. Took Otis and Charlie out for a potty-break.

Once again, they shot for the Back Forty, barking their heads off. Followed them at a dead run (in my red flannel pajamas and Uggs, mini-flashlight in hand). Luckily, there was nothing in the yard—but there was what sounded like a sizable pack of coyotes directly on the other side of the back wall (there's a narrow service alley back there, between us and the neighbors on that side), yipping, gibbering and laughing their heads off. Not what you want to hear at 10 o'clock of a dark night, with sex-drunk owls hooting to and fro overhead, a desecrated grave full of ghastly remains at your feet, a pug Who Knows No Fear (Otis being certifiably insane; he's the sort who loves to hop up and down, frothing at the mouth and calling big dogs bad names in public, secure in the knowledge that he's on a leash) shrieking abuse at them from close range, a corgi also shaped like a coyote snack also barking, but from a slightly more prudent distance (Charlie's bred for a cow-dog and thus possessed of common sense)—and the certain knowledge that those gibbering maniacs can indeed get over that wall if they want to.

After a certain amount of yelling and flashlight brandishing—and running down Otis the Fathead and snaffling him by the collar—we repaired inside, locked the panel over the dog-door (hey, if they're going to come pillage the family cemetery, what's to stop them coming right on in after the dog food?), lay down, and passed out. Temporarily.

The phone rings, waking me out of a sound sleep, so I'm more than slightly confused to hear my younger daughter telling me that her friend (visiting from New York) is in terrible pain, and they think she needs to go to the hospital, but she (the friend) won't go without me. (Longtime childhood friend of Jenny's, deplorably estranged from her parents for years. I'm sort of a surrogate mother.)

Shaking my head in hopes of clearing my wits enough to drive, I go wake Doug to tell him where I'm going and assure him that he doesn't need to come with me, get dressed, stuff a cold-pak from the freezer and a bottle of ibuprofen into my purse, and go—pausing on my way out to grab the folder containing Sam's manuscript (I've been in emergency rooms before. No matter what the situation, you're probably going to want something to read).

Arrive to find the poor girl writhing in pain, unable to find a comfortable position that will ease it, terrible pain from the middle of her back down her right arm, pins-and-needles…Jenny and another friend had taken her to an urgent care facility earlier in the day, where they diagnosed the problem as muscle spasm/possible pinched nerve, and prescribed her a painkiller. Painkiller is obviously not working, and now it's 11 PM. Tried a little trigger-point massage, just in case—it helped slightly, but pain resumed full-force as soon as I stopped, and when we asked if she thought she needed to go to the emergency room, she said she did.

So the four of us—C. (the injured friend) lying on a seat, writhing and emitting small, pitiful cries, Jenny, self, and other friend taking it in turns to rub her neck or her arm or chafe her hands for distraction—spent an hour in the lobby (luckily, it wasn't a busy night), chatting and making remarks under our breaths about the other people in the waiting room, who were the usual motley crew one sees in an emergency room on a Saturday night, including a young man who looked as though he'd been living in a dumpster with an ice-bag on his head (that is, he had the ice-bag on his head in the waiting room, not in the dumpster), accompanied by his much spiffier girl-friend, a buxom specimen with drug-googly eyes and a large coat on which was painted in big red and green letters, "Kill the Brain and the Whole Ghoul Dies". Not that we looked that great, all things considered, but still.

Four hours later, staggered (literally; C. had been given Valium, a shot of muscle relaxant and some Very Potent painkiller—sufficiently potent that she couldn't keep it down, and barfed twice getting from the emergency room to the car—a distance of about a hundred feet) out of the hospital, drove the girls to Jenny's place, and made my way home—just in time to take Otis and Charlie out again. This time, I took them into the inner yard, and they accomplished their business at 4 AM by the peaceful glow of Christmas lights, the night now silent save for the soft Hoo! Hoo-hoo! (male owls hoot once, females twice) of love in the trees.

And I hope all y'all had a lovely weekend, too! [g]

40 comments:

  1. wow. When you have an interesting day, you REALLY have an interesting day! May you have a few restful days (when you can work out what comes next in The Book)...
    Jen from Oz

    ReplyDelete
  2. Life imitating art? Or do you write so well because of your extraordinary life experiences? Either way, it's a combination that works. Let's hope Christmas proves to be less... exciting.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You made me laugh :D (I know, I'm sure it was as far from funny as you could get at the time, but I needed to laugh) but that is sad about Molly. I'm sorry. It's always hard to lose a pet.

    I live a mile from the mall in a bustling, road-busy area and have a dozen deer through my backyard every night, a pair of very noisy coyotes, a few fox, owls (I have no idea how many, but they mate the end of September/early October here and they're really loud!) and various other sundry animals because I also back to a nature preserve. Like you, I think it's ironic to see them when we're literally overrun with civilization, but they make do like the rest of us, I suppose. But I digress... ;)

    I'm just glad you made it through the weekend! And that the pug-who-knows-no-fear didn't end up as a snack. :)

    And you didn't say, was it really muscle spasms your surrogate daughter was having? And is she okay now?

    Thanks again. :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Well, I can't top that. Son asks me, at about 1:30 p.m. how long it would take to roast a turkey. [I'd been expecting he would take me out to eat. His bachelor pad in NYC doesn't have more than a very basic kitchenette]. When I informed him that even if we could find a fresh uncooked one at this hour [I forget that the only day Manhattan shuts down is Yom Kippur, and nowadays not even then] it would be nighttime before it was ready.

    So I roasted chicken thighs and presented them to about 20 of Son's friends as "the thighs of extremely small turkeys" and it went down a treat. Nearly all his friends are ex-pat Israelis who were dying for some home cooking and mother love.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wow Diana. You never cease to amaze me! My life is so mundane compared to yours. Living in Canada, we celebrated Thanksgiving back in October. But, this past weekend marked the one year passing of DH's father, who was in the states when it happened. We spent the weekend with his mom, lending support and drinking a few bottles of wine.
    On another note, growing up we raised mini dachshunds. They too are very mindless and remind me of your son's brain-challenged pug. Once, they tried to eat a german shepherd, but alas, it just stood over them, drooling, trying to figure out which one to eat first! Luckily, none were hurt and we rescued the shepherd before his legs were gnawed off at the kneecaps. Still amazes me how after so many generations of not being used for their purpose, nature takes over and drives their insatiable appetite for aggression. Silly dogs....

    ReplyDelete
  6. How fitting for you to post a tale of coyote craziness the day after we had our own run-in with a coyote here on the east coast! Yesterday morning at around 11am we witnessed several large deer running across our backyard (our yard abuts water company land that stretches on for 50+ acres around a reservoir.) Upon seeing the deer jumping over shrubs and displaying the undersides of their white tails rather prominently (a sure sign that danger is nearby), we looked down the hill to see what we first thought to be a fox chasing a really large buck. It wasn't until it got closer to our back deck and starting circling the buck that we discovered it was really a coyote. It was pretty freaky and I quickly grabbed one of our cats who was outside in the front yard and brought him in. That was the first time I've actually seen one rather close to the house.

    And I agree with you on the eerie yipping and barking. This past summer was the first time I had heard the coyotes calling in the woods near us and it sent a chill straight down my spine.

    ReplyDelete
  7. So what you're saying is that it was just another typical Thanksgiving weekend at home? (g)

    The dog/grave story reminds me of my sister when she had dinner at her new boyfriend's house. They also had a tradition of burying their pets in the yard, but their beloved beagle died in the middle of a Canadian winter so they felt it was prudent to temporarily store it in the deep freezer. No one thought to tell my sister this when they sent her to the basement to retrieve some ice cream for dessert....

    She married the boyfriend, so it couldn't have been THAT bad.

    I'd love the mushroom pate recipe if you have time to post it. I'm responsible for Christmas dinner this year.

    Pam

    ReplyDelete
  8. Oh Diana,

    When it rains, it pours, huh? I remember complaining once to my mom (who reminds me of Claire) about how busy I was with my 3 kids, husband & dog, and she reminded me that never again in my life will I be so important to so many people, and to stop complaining and just enjoy my busyness. I did and realized life is good, and busy is best. You seem to realize that too. Thanks for finding time to post the excerpt too.

    Bedelia

    ReplyDelete
  9. Dear Diana:

    I live in Southern California, in Whittier, and our property abuts one of the last wildlife corridors in this part of the state. In fact, the recent fires in Brea, Chino Hills and Diamond Bar are connected to us, on the eastern end, by this corridor. Though we were safe, the terror of the fires' potential to burn through to us was very real.

    Anyway, much of what you describe in the way of animal behavior is not unknown to us. We are not a dog family but have two cats that adopted us for reasons known only to them. The owls are a wonderment, as they hoot and whoo in the night. The coyotes are another story. Their insidious, sly presence lurks in every shadow. Their eerie yips, maniacal laughter (there is NO other description than that) and hideous proof of predation are unsettling and a constant reminder that we must respect what lives beside us.

    Glad to know that your Thanksgiving feast was enjoyable. I cooked my second turkey of the season (I'm from a big family [11 sibs total] so we celebrate an early T.G. for my side two weeks before the actual Day) and fed my in-laws, which is always interesting.

    We took time to share one aspect of our lives for which we are thankful. I did recite, in my heart, several. And one of those was for you: for your Books; for the gift of your humor; your intelligent and witty mind.

    Respectfully,

    Midge

    ReplyDelete
  10. now that my kids are grown and largely independent, i find myself being a compulsive volunteer to stay as busy as i was when they were younger =) it sounds crazy, and surreal, but fun. isn't it interesting how much more VIBRANT life is when you pay attention?

    ReplyDelete
  11. Whenever I have days like that, it always serves as a reminder to Hubby, who often wonders what I do all day long while he's at the office, or why in the heck I still don't have the wallpaper stripped off Son's bathroom YET.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Diana, seriously. Adventure does seem to find you. What a riot! Thanks for sharing. I hope your son's novel goes far and his dogs don't end up as coyote food.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Oh, man, Diana
    The best laid plans, as they say, as just that, plans! Reminds me of a saying I heard (for the millionth time) last weekend when some of my own plans went unexpectedly awry... you want to hear God laugh? Just tell him your plans! Thanks for sharing your Thanksgiving with us. Keep safe, and I hope you have a happy (and quiet and peaceful) holiday season! Debbie in San Diego

    ReplyDelete
  14. Ack! Hope you got to have a nana nap sometime after that :-)

    Our pets always seem to die in the evenings which result in us heading out the back with torch and spade in hand to dig graves in the dark of night. It's a great look I tell you!

    ReplyDelete
  15. wow, i do indeed live a very boring life. my turkey day adventure consisted of visiting the inlaws and realizing that while i wwas able to pack for the other 4 people in my family i completely forgot to pack for myself. ugh. nothing like a late night run to walmart to get a shirt. :)

    ReplyDelete
  16. I am definitely waiting with bated breath for "the story of my husband, my father-in-law, the cattle round-up, and the ten thousand white turkeys". That sound like the best blog-post title I've ever read!

    ReplyDelete
  17. So nice to hear the "little bit" that's been going on with you...
    ;-) What a tale!

    ReplyDelete
  18. When I was perhaps seven or eight our parakeet died and was buried with due ceremony in the back yard in a shoebox.
    The next day, after school, my little brother and I decided that there was more mourning to do and ran down the hill out back and down to the grave.
    The sight that greeted us was quite similar to your situation, only it was broad daylight and we unfortunetly could see every speck of flesh and feather. We screamed and screamed then reburied "Buddy" in a metal coffee can. All in all a scarring eperiance. Though not quite as alarming as the time I dug up a large thigh bone in my husband's yard, but that's another story.

    ReplyDelete
  19. So, would you say you're one of those people To Whom Things Happen? Because my day could be summed up in one (short) paragraph.
    I will be waiting for the story of the ten thousand turkeys.

    ReplyDelete
  20. And I thought I had all the wild animals I could stand around the feast table...

    ReplyDelete
  21. I just got back from visiting a friend in Phoenix on Saturday! It was my first time being in a desert and I found it fascinating! We visited the Desert Botanical Gardens in Tucson, so reading your blog was a trip down memory lane for me! Normally, I'm an ocean/water girl (being from Vancouver) but I really enjoyed seeing an area that was so very different from my own. We also went to the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix (near Camelback Mtn). They have so many varieties of cacti and succulents that my camera was working overtime! I had to take a ton of pictures so that my husband could identify the plants for me when I got home, and sure enough...he did! Hmmn...1100 pictures in a week and a half...is that enough?

    Thanks for sharing your holiday experience with us. No wonder you're an author, you experience SO much life that you have to write about it and keep us all entertained! Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  22. Dear Diana,

    Oh my,
    What an unforgettable Thanksgiving.

    The following week after we had made the deal about our current house, this 'peaceful' and 'cosy' neighbourhood hit the tabloids twice:
    - a farmer had buried a pig on his yard (for a reason unknown) and a bear had been visiting the site
    - the neighbour house had a visit of a raccoon dog, which promptly hid itself under the bed in the master bedroom. Had to removed by a specialist.

    Luckily, in these following 20+ years there hasn't happend anything similar (knocking the wood).

    ReplyDelete
  23. When you dig my grave, dig it wide and DEEP.

    Sounds like the suburban hunters are not keeping up on coyote control. Coyotes can easily jump a six foot wall, especially for a putrified meal. On the canine menu, everything gets better when its buried.

    Deviled Eggs - the best use of paprika yet invented.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Dear Farmer Bob--

    Actually, it _was_ pretty deep--she was three feet down. No idea how many coyotes there were; at least two (at a time), since the dirt was flung out on either end of the grave.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Dear Jari--

    [g] Sounds like a great neighborhood! Where do you live, that you have bears and raccoon dogs?

    ReplyDelete
  26. Jari--

    Oh, wait--I was forgetting. I _know_ where you live. [g] I actually ate bear (and moose and reindeer) when I was in Finland.

    ReplyDelete
  27. Our first house (purchased in 1999) was new-construction built on former cotton fields. Although we were near a "major intersection" in what was still a semi-rural part of the county, we saw a wild turkey, hoot owl, coyote, a groundhog, and quite a few rabbits in the first year alone. When we moved 8 years later, the area was considerably more developed & only the rabbits & birds were left.

    Our current house is 42 years old in a well-established neighborhood. We are walking distance from a mall, and we can hear both I-40 and the train yard from our house. However, the development was once the suburbs of the Lttle Rock metro area, and there are 6 man-made lakes of different sizes in our property-owners' area. I was reminded of this last year when a dead raccoon showed up at the top of our driveway, right at the corner of our house. Animal control came & picked it up, but it was still surprising to see it. There are rabbits that live under our neighbor's storage shed, plus plenty of birds & squirrels due to the numerous old oak trees in our yard.

    But by far my most surreal wildlife siting had to have been when I was in college in Beaumont, TX. I was leaving a club about 1 AM (and no, I was not drunk), when an armadillo crossed College, Ave. in front of my car. It was a four lane highway, major road & very close to where College ran underneath I-10. I tend to think of armadillos as being more for less populated areas, so to see one in an obviously urban environment was just plain weird. Nevermind the fact that it was Texas.

    ReplyDelete
  28. By DEEP, I mean 6 feet, the "traditional" depth for burial. That's why it's traditional, 6 feet of earth is sufficient to reduce the fresh scent of death and to deter casual burrowers. Otherwise you need a barrier like concrete or big rocks to deter the opportunistic digger. You could seal the remains, like the hermetically-sealed mayonaise jar on Funk and Wagnall's back porch, but I have never found a seal effective against the power of dog noses. There are many effective against their attention spans, and, living in the Granite State, I find big rocks most expedient, but the desert presents special problems, so perhaps your pool fence will work with the remaining remains.

    ReplyDelete
  29. Diana, you seem to have a very busy time of things. :) Hope your daughter's friend is better.

    I love your description of coyotes, we have open space behind our house and we hear them often. It is one of the most eerie sounds I have ever heard. I always think of banshies or ghosts when I hear them gathering in the hills.

    ReplyDelete
  30. After reading that all I could think was, "You have roses?!" :)
    It was 40 degrees here and the worst that happened was that the mushroom gravy didn't thicken. Oh, tragedy!

    I have a dog nephew pug named Otis. Yes, he thinks he's quite tough too when fenced safely in.

    It might sound odd, but you can cremate your pets. My sis has two little urns for two of her beloved dogs. No coyote worries either.

    ReplyDelete
  31. No wonder you have such fabulous stories to tell, if that is real life!

    ReplyDelete
  32. Wow! What an amazing story! Now I know YOU ARE CLAIRE!
    I'm sorry about Molly. My 13 year old cat just died in August and I know what a hole it leaves.
    The museum in Tuscan sounds fascinating. Thanks for that bit of knowledge. Must go visit.

    ReplyDelete
  33. I'm thinking it's a good thing I get my dogs cremated. What a day!

    ReplyDelete
  34. Dear Diana,
    Being a newly Christened Addict, (Book 1 Started Oct 3, 2008. Book 6 Finished November 11th, 2008. Private Matter, and Brotherhood-both finished by November 21) I offer my Thanksgiving To You for the Outlander series.

    (Now I am devouring Elizabeth von Arnim's writings as I learn patience waiting for more from you.)

    (Do I just sit around and read? No. Having eight amazing children, I am a professional mother, and having a job, and having an A personality husband--I only wish I could just sit around and read.)

    I also find fun in your blog.

    Have you ever scanned your blog posts noticing the time of day you write ?
    Merry Christmas, Denece

    ReplyDelete
  35. Dear Denece--

    No, I know mostly when I write. <g>

    My primary work time is late at night; I normally "go down" for the night around 4 AM, so am inclined to post things then (I'll often start a blog or website post in an earlier work session during the day, but switch back and forth between nonfiction and fiction, so to speak, so that I end up at the end of the night shift with my (usual) quote of 1500 words or so of book, plus the finished and proofread post. Gives me a sense of accomplishment to go to bed on. <g>

    ReplyDelete
  36. That was fantastic, Diana. I loved reading it and was laughing out loud several times - Doug's mom - ROFL!!!! Your turkey stuffing and gravy sound wonderful - one day I must try it. Oh - the owls - hahahahaha.

    Judie

    ReplyDelete
  37. After reading your gravy recipe on you web site, I think you appreciate how my father-in-law makes "red eye" gravy. (Around here that is any gravy made with meat drippings and milk). First, remove the meat. Mix the flour right into the grease in the pan. Now add milk. If it is thin, add more flour. Too thick, add more milk. Keep it up until you reach the top of the pan!! VBG
    It's really pretty good gravy too! LOL
    Alice In Indiana

    ReplyDelete
  38. It's a bit unfair for someone of your obvious writing talent to also have such skill with cooking! Someone or something in the cosmos must like you! :)

    ReplyDelete
  39. A片,A片,A片,A片,A片,A片情趣用品,情趣,A片,AIO,AV,AV女優,A漫,免費A片,AIO交友愛情館,愛情公寓,情色,情色貼圖,色情小說,情色小說,情色文學,色情,寄情築園小遊戲,色情遊戲,嘟嘟情人色網,一葉情貼圖片區,情色論壇,色情影片,微風成人,嘟嘟成人網,成人,18成人,成人影城,成人圖片區,成人圖片,成人貼圖,UT聊天室,聊天室,豆豆聊天室,哈啦聊天室,尋夢園聊天室,聊天室尋夢園,視訊聊天室,視訊聊天

    麻將,台灣彩卷,六合彩開獎號碼,運動彩卷,六合彩,線上遊戲,矽谷麻將,明星3缺一,橘子町,麻將大悶鍋,台客麻將,公博,game,,中華職棒,麗的線上小遊戲,國士無雙麻將,麻將館,賭博遊戲,威力彩,威力彩開獎號碼,龍龍運動網,史萊姆,史萊姆好玩遊戲,史萊姆第一個家,史萊姆好玩遊戲區,樂透彩開獎號碼,遊戲天堂,好玩遊戲,遊戲基地,無料遊戲王,好玩遊戲區,麻將遊戲,好玩遊戲區,小遊戲,遊戲區,電玩快打,cs online情趣用品,情趣,情趣商品,A片,AIO交友愛情館,AIOAV女優,AV,A漫,免費A片,本土自拍,自拍,愛情公寓,情色,情色貼圖,色情小說,情色小說,情色文學,色情,寄情築園小遊戲,色情遊戲,色情影片,情色網,色情網站,微風成人區,微風成人,嘟嘟成人網,成人,18成人,成人影城,成人圖片區,成人圖片,成人貼圖,成人文章,成人小說,UT聊天室,聊天室,豆豆聊天室,哈啦聊天室,尋夢園聊天室,聊天室尋夢園,080中部人聊天室,080聊天室,中部人聊天室,080苗栗人聊天室,苗栗人聊天室,免費視訊聊天,免費視訊,視訊聊天室,視訊聊天情趣用品,情趣,情趣商品,愛情公寓,情色,情色貼圖,色情小說,情色小說,情色文學,色情,寄情築園小遊戲,色情遊戲,AIO交友愛情館,一葉情貼圖片區,情色論壇,色情影片,色情網站,微風成人區,微風成人,嘟嘟成人網,成人,18成人,成人影城,成人圖片,成人貼圖,成人圖片區,成人文章,成人小說,A片,AV女優,AV,A漫,免費A片,自拍,UT聊天室,聊天室,豆豆聊天室,哈啦聊天室,尋夢園聊天室,聊天室尋夢園,080中部人聊天室,080聊天室,080苗栗人聊天室情趣用品,情趣,情趣商品,愛情公寓,情色,情色貼圖,色情小說,情色小說,情色文學,色情,做愛,寄情築園小遊戲,色情遊戲,AIO交友愛情館,AIO,色情影片,情色網,微風成人,嘟嘟成人網,成人,18成人,成人影城,成人圖片,成人貼圖,成人圖片區,成人文章,成人小說,成人電影,麗的色遊戲,自拍,A片,AV女優,AV,A漫,視訊交友網,視訊,視訊交友,免費視訊聊天室,免費視訊,視訊聊天,視訊聊天室,UT聊天室,聊天室,豆豆聊天室,哈啦聊天室,尋夢園聊天室,聊天室尋夢園,中古車,二手車情色貼圖,日本A片,A片下載,情色A片,AV女優,A漫,免費A片,微風成人,成人網站,成人光碟,嘟嘟成人網,成人,成人影城A片,A片,A片下載,做愛,成人電影,18成人,日本A片,情色小說,情色電影,成人影城,自拍,情色論壇,成人論壇,情色貼圖,情色,免費A片,成人,成人光碟

    ReplyDelete
  40. A片,A片,A片,A片,A片,A片情趣商品,情趣用品,情趣用品,情趣,情趣,情趣用品,情趣商品,情趣用品,情趣,情趣,情趣用品,情趣商品,情趣用品,情趣,情趣,情趣用品,,情趣,情趣用品,情趣用品,情趣用品,情趣用品.情趣,情趣,情趣,情趣,視訊聊天室,情趣,情趣用品,情趣,情趣用品,情趣用品,情趣麻將,台灣彩卷,六合彩開獎號碼,運動彩卷,六合彩,遊戲,線上遊戲,cs online,搓麻將,矽谷麻將,明星三缺一, 橘子町,麻將大悶鍋,台客麻將,公博,game,,中華職棒,麗的線上小遊戲,國士無雙麻將,麻將館,賭博遊戲,威力彩,威力彩開獎號碼,龍龍運動網,史萊姆,史萊姆好玩遊戲,史萊姆第一個家,史萊姆好玩遊戲區,樂透彩開獎號碼,遊戲天堂,天堂,好玩遊戲,遊戲基地,無料遊戲王,好玩遊戲區,麻將遊戲,好玩遊戲區,小遊戲,電玩快打情趣用品,情趣,A片,AIO,AV,AV女優,A漫,免費A片,情色,情色貼圖,色情小說,情色文學,色情,寄情竹園小遊戲,色情遊戲,AIO交友愛情館,色情影片,情趣內衣,情趣睡衣,性感睡衣,情趣商品,微風成人,嘟嘟成人網,成人,18成人,成人影城,成人圖片,成人貼圖,成人圖片區,UT聊天室,聊天室,豆豆聊天室 ,哈啦聊天室,尋夢園聊天室,聊天室尋夢園,080苗栗人聊天室,080聊天室,視訊交友網,視訊借錢,黃金,黃金回收,黃金價格,黃金買賣,當舖,中古車,二手車A片,A片,成人網站,成人影片,色情,情色網,情色,AV,AV女優,成人影城,成人,色情A片,日本AV,免費成人影片,成人影片,SEX,免費A片,A片下載,免費A片下載,做愛,情色A片,色情影片,H漫,A漫,18成人,情色電影,自拍,成人電影a片,色情影片,情色電影,a片,色情,情色網,情色,av,av女優,成人影城,成人,色情a片,日本av,免費成人影片,成人影片,情色a片,sex,免費a片,a片下載,免費a片下載,成人網站,做愛,自拍A片,A片,A片下載,做愛,成人電影,18成人,日本A片,情色小說,情色電影,成人影城,自拍,情色論壇,成人論壇,情色貼圖,情色,免費A片,成人,成人光碟18成人,成人聊天室,成人電影,成人圖片,成人貼圖,成人圖片區,成人影片,成人文章,成人小說,微風成人區,成人交友,成人文學,成人漫畫,成人遊戲,免費成人影片 ,成人論壇,愛情公寓,情色,色情網站,情色A片,色情小說,情色文學

    ReplyDelete