Here it is SEPTEMBER. The air is fresher with the Furgeson Fire contained. It’s been a difficult summer for so many friends and former co-workers having to evacuate their homes or be on pre-evacuation. The death of a young Mariposa dozer operator working on the fire was devastating. It really hits home when you know the family. Words are not enough to thank the brave fire fighters who daily put themselves in danger in order to protect others.

On a more positive note, I am honored to be continuing in December as a Bass Lake Elementary school board member. I recently attended Back to School Nights and witnessed enthusiastic and eager teachers share about their grade level goals and classroom expectations. The evenings were well attended. Hats off to the parents for being so supportive and congratulations to the teachers for being well prepared to discuss their curriculum.

As I look ahead to the year 2014 and my 65th year of living I am interested in becoming more mindful, to be interested in discovery.  I want to know myself better, to love myself more.  I am wanting to learn more about my deep inner resources. I’ve even recently subscribed to a new magazine: Mindful, taking time for what matters. This magazine is rather new, being in its first year of publication. I think it will be an excellent resource for me.  I adore how elements of the personal spiritual realm seem to be merging into the mainstream of the business world, the tech world, the medical field, and into many people’s daily lives as well. The studies into Mindfulness continue to be research based.  I also got a new ap for my phone called GPS4Soul! It turns out the extra reminders from this ap can help me be mindful of focusing on what’s important to me.  I guess I’m just trying to be the best person I can be and be focused on what’s important to me.  Not only are family, friends, pets, gardening, education, schools, ministry important to me, but developing my own inner growth is looming up this year. As an educator, I will say that I am working on my life curriculum.  How exciting!!

My father-in-law was a retired contractor who really knew his business,  He, Dewey, and my mother-in-law-, Bernice, lived some sixty miles away and they volunteered to supervise the remodeling and addition to the house.  When I protested that it would be too far for them to commutes, they informed me that they would move in with us until the job was finished.  They were great people.  But, I don’t think that any of us realized at the time how hair-raising the whole business would be, nor how long it would take.

The kitchen remodeling was one of the first things that we tackled.  My husband and I went to a reputable cabinet shop with our plans and went over them with the owner.  We decided on a Birdseye maple wood and when the cabinets were finished he would call us.  Then we could simply tear out the old cabinets and replace them with the new ones immediately.  This sounded quite simple to me, and couldn’t inconvenience us too much in the process.

Well, on the day that the workmen were to start on the kitchen, I came home from work, found a canvas covering the doorway into the kitchen.  Now from my previous experience with canvas, I was naturally leery.  I whisked back the canvas and stepped down to the kitchen just as a warning scream hit me.  When I say that I went down into the kitchen, that is exactly what I did.  As I raised up, I looked up in wonderment, not quite believing what I saw.  The ceiling was gone as were the inside walls, the windows had all vanished, and naturally the floor had been taken out to complete the picture.  My sprained ankle testified to the latter.  I had expected the cupboards to be missing until they were easily replaced, but all this?  It was Unbelievable.

In all fairness, to everyone concerned, we had discussed how advantageous it would be to have more aesthetically placed windows in the kitchen and if we were to change the windows, we might as well have them all bigger than the previous ones.  The walls had to be torn out to replace the antiquated wiring that would be totally inadequate for our modern kitchen.  And the floor?  Well it had to be checked for termites, was found to be weak anyway, so naturally it came out too.

In the 1950’s my folks loved their new property on Maple Avenue but the house needed improvements. Mom, (Dorothy) shares her perspective:


From the first day’s looking at the house, we knew that we would put on an addition when the funds were available.  Obtaining the funds was something else, so we had plenty of time to draw up plans, refine them, reject them, and start all over again.  By then we realized that a remodeling job on the existing house was also in order to really have the dream house that we wanted.  This, of course, would take an additional amount of money, but when you don’t have any money, what’s an additional sum on paper?  The kitchen especially needed redoing, to modernize it.

When the day finally arrived for us to seek Credit Union funds to add on to out savings, our dream house would be in its first stages.

Let me now state emphatically to any reader who is even vaguely thinking of starting a similar venture…DON’T!  Or if you are too stubborn to take this advice, at least take a world tour until the mess is finished.  Can’t afford that?  Well, at least move into a motel and eat all of your meals out while the remodeling is going on.  If that would cost more than you can swing, wait until much longer, until you can save for that also.  Believe me, it’s worth it.  Let me explain.

We eventually had the shell of our new addition up, including the roof, outside walls, floor, fireplaces in master bedroom and new living room.  That went smoothly.  No problem that we couldn’t smile our way through.  Then the troubles started.

My father-in-law was a retired contractor who really knew his business,  He, Dewey, and my mother-in-law, Bernice, lived some sixty miles away and they volunteered to supervise the remodeling and addition to the house.  When I protested that it would be too far for them to commutes, they informed me that they would move in with us until the job was finished.  They were great people.  But, I don’t think that any of us realized at the time how hair-raising the whole business would be, nor how long it would take.

On Super Bowl Sunday I pulled out of my recipe collection an old favorite – Chocolate Mess.  My dear friend, Jane Gyer, shared this recipe with me many years ago for a potluck special dessert.  When she originally gave me the recipe written out Jane put in parenthesis the words, Yum Yum.  From that time on the name has become Chocolate Mess Yum Yum.

Several people who came to our Super Bowl evening recently asked if I would be willing ( well, actually they practically ordered me) to make Chocolate Mess Yum Yum for a large gathering that is being held this evening in Oakhurst.  So, I have just finished my fourth batch and the hot chocolate mousse pudding-like cakes are now slow cooking, filling the house with amazing dark chocolate aroma. Yep…yum, yum!

Here is the recipe for Chocolate Mess Yum Yum

1 package chocolate cake mix

1 4oz. package instant chocolate pudding mix

6 oz. chocolate chips

16 oz. sour cream

4 eggs

1 cup water

3/4 cup vegetable oil

Spray inside of crockpot with non-stick vegetable coating.  Mix all ingredients together and dump into crockpot.  Set temperature to low and cook 5 to 7 hours.  Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.  Lean back and sigh!!

A swimming pool.

Image via WikipediaDorothy and Ted were settled in their "dream house". But some one - time unexpected funds become available. How will they use the found money?

Dorothy and Ted were settled in their “dream house”.  But some one – time unexpected funds become available.  How will they use the found money?


“One year we found that we would receive a large amount of federal tax refund, due to the selling of a house in town for a loss.  We had to decide what we were going to do with all that money.  We desperately needed the new addition to the house.  Ted and I were sleeping on the hide-a-bed couch in the living room.  We discussed all of the things on which we could spend the money.  All sorts of possibilities popped into our heads.  Being practical and organized people, we listed all of the things that the money could be used for.  And being so practical and organized, we narrowed the selection down to two distinct possibilities.  Number one, of course, remained the addition to the house.  Number two, was the building of a nice swimming pool.  We finally reached the inevitable conclusion that we could always find enough money to add on to the house, but we wouldn’t always find money for the building of a swimming pool.  And, of course, we would always be able to enjoy the pool, from the day of completion, on.  How is that for being practical, systematic, and organized?

We built a lovely swimming pool that was slightly elevated for natural flow into the orchard for irrigation, thus avoiding the high property tax that accompanies swimming pools.  It was called a reservoir, but it still was a lovely swimming pool with nice decking around it and a patio built of redwood strips and exposed aggregate between these strips.  Swimming daily from March through October in Central California made this a truly great investment, from a standpoint of health and leisure time activities. A beautiful huge Cottonwood tree gave shade on some section of the patio all day long.  This tree was a nuisance in that it constantly dropped leaves in the pool, but the grandeur of that beautifully shaped old tree gave me a sense of permanence, my touch with immortality, and gave shade to boot.”

“My smile soon vanished as the couple at the door introduced themselves as the new pastor and his wife from our church, coming to call.  I could easily have dropped dead with no regrets, but that would have been the easy way out. I graciously bade them enter, shoved over some clothes and a drawer for them to sit down, offered them some coffee, forgetting that I had no electricity to make any.  I ended up serving them orange juice and cake, which probably had gone stale.  (This had been my day to bake).  The two of them sat primly, chatting pleasantly, and were the two most tactful people that I had ever met in my life.  They acted as though every home was arranged as mine was that day.  Neither blinked an eye or showed the mildest concern at the havoc.  I had always been taught that the first step in being a good homemaker was to never apologize for the state of the home or the food, or any of the many things that could go wrong.  I was temped to do some explaining, I’ll admit, until the moment passed that it might have done some good.

For, at that dramatic moment, the half-chick awoke from his nap in the bedroom and came out into the living room, stretching and yawning, as only he could do.  He went promptly to the front door to go out and “do his duty”.  By then it was too late to have explained anything to this dear old diplomatic couple.  I watched for some raised eyebrow, open mouth, gulps and so on, but neither gave any kind of reaction to the half-chick coming out of the bedroom, going to the front door to go outside.  There wasn’t even a pause in the conversation.

After a suitable time, they arose with a “thank you” and “we’ll see you in church” preliminaries.  They left and I sat down and wept.  I was still weeping when my husband came home.  He was astonished and asked me what happened.  When I gestured with my sweeping arm at the mess and told him who had come to call, he asked me why I didn’t explain about the fireplace, the electricity going off, etc.  Tearfully I said that I did think about it until half-chick walked in from his nap, and then nothing I said would have made any difference.”

Ted begins his remodeling of the house and Dorothy finds the electrical power out…

“One day, after an unusually strenuously work day, I drove home to find the house in a turmoil.  Ted had decided to erect a fireplace on an outside wall of the living room.  That sounds simple enough, but let me give you a picture of what I encountered as I walked through the living room that evening.  Ted had ripped out the entire outside wall of the house and had nailed up a huge piece of canvas over the opening.  It was the middle of winter but who would want a fireplace in the middle of summer?  That was Ted’s reasoning, faulty as it was.  A good portion of the floor was gone along with the wall, and Ted explained that he had to put a strong foundation in to hold up the fireplace.  OK…then that was the reason for having the wheelbarrow full of cement in the middle of the floor.  The rug was rolled up and stuck out at some ungodly angle across the room.  Another wheelbarrow was filled with bricks and completed the picture of my otherwise neat living room.

And, of course, the next day was my day off and the time to clean the house, wash, iron, bake, etc.  Naturally, when I started to vacuum the following morning I wasn’t surprised to find that the electricity had gone off.  Well, since I had an all electric kitchen, I was also unable to bake, wash, iron, etc.  “What the heck this will be a great time to clean out drawers and closets” I told myself, undaunted by it all.  Always the optimist!

Since I had a growing daughter, there always seemed to be outgrown clothes to be sorted out.  I had these outgrown clothes in one pile, clothes to be mended in another pile, clothes that needed bleaching in another pile, dirty clothes to be washed in another.  All around the room there were dresser drawers that I hadn’t  even touched yet when the doorbell rang.

Now, remember that the living room also had a flapping canvas outside wall, wheelbarrows of bricks and cement, and an open piece of flooring where the foundation had to be laid, as well as the mess I had made that morning.  My first thought was to ignore the doorbell completely.  This had been my wisest thought for some time.  But I quickly changed my mind, thinking that any friend of mine would laugh with me over the horrible mess.  I went smiling to the door to find a strange little old couple standing there.”  (to be continued in Post #14)


Dorothy loves her animals, but even tragedy has a lighter side.

“One dark and quiet night about 12:30, a blood-curdling scream rent the air.  Somehow I knew that one of our neighbor’s dogs had one of my ducks.  We jumped up and ran to the back pasture.  There, sure enough, was a neighbor’s dog dragging the poor drake through the fence toward home.  Ted retrieved the duck, which was already dead, and told me to go into the house while he buried it.  The other duck (the hen) stood around and cried the most pitiful wail ever thought possible.  She grieved for her mate all night long, and the noise was most heart rendering.  I knew what I had to do, so when I knew that my boss would be up in the morning, I called him to let him know that I would be late to work.  I explained about the attack, the dog, and the grieving hen.  My boss knew there was nothing to do but accept the situation as gracefully as he could.

As soon as the wholesale producers would answer their phones, I began explaining my problem to them.  All that any of them had to sell were frozen ducks.  This would hardly serve the purpose.  And all the while I could hear the grieving hen.  This drove me on.  I tried producer after producer, all with the inevitable offer of frozen ducks.

I finally reached one woman who probably thought that I was slightly mad.  She did have one young drake (alive) that she would sell to me.  Naturally, she lived forty-five miles away.  I hurriedly got in my car to drive after the new mate for my hen.  When I arrived, the woman explained to me that all drakes do not appeal to all hens.  I declared that it was worth the risk as she had the only one that was not frozen in Northern California.  I paid for the drake and stuck him in a cardboard box with the lid open enough to admit air, put the box on the back seat of my station wagon, and drove off.

Then I began to worry, would the hen accept this drake?  If not how far would I have to drive to obtain another one?  And how much time would my boss feel as adequate to take off in the interest of duck romancing?  All of these thoughts were going through my head as I was driving down the freeway.  Suddenly I came to the realization that occupants of other cars were driving erratically, and staring at the station wagon with more than a passing interest.  I whirled around and looked at the back seat.  The drake had somehow gotten out of the box and was sitting up on the back seat as big as you please, with his head out of the window, staring at the occupants of passing cars.  Somehow I knew that I had the right duck.  He was “one of us,” my worries were over.”

Ducks amongst other poultry

Image via Wikipedia

Dorothy had a real love of animals and the ducks added to her collection of screwballs…

“My nephews, Poncho and John, went to the Fresno District Fair, and much to my sister Jackie’s consternation, won two baby ducks.  They had no room or facilities for them so the most obvious solution would be to make a gift of them to Aunt Dorothy.  Well, being me, I took one look at the little darlings and received them with open arms.  These animals also weren’t quite normal, in the usual sense, but, by now, I more or less accepted this with my animals.  The ducks loved to go into the kitchen, stand by the refrigerator and wait for Stella to give them some milk.  They didn’t know that ducks do not drink milk.  They also did not know that ducks did not sleep with seven year-old girls (under covers yet) until I caught them one night and made them sleep outside.

The very worst problem that I had to face with those screwball ducks was their absolute hatred of water.  They were supposed to be white ducks, but were seldom clean enough to deserve that title.  The only way I could force them into the water was to toss frozen peas, which they loved, into their pond.  They would go into the water after the peas with the same type of attitude you might expect from a cat.  If I threw in enough peas, they would be fairly clean for a little while.  Then the pea episode would have to be repeated.  Anyone watching this process would probably shake his head in disbelief.”