Artistic Political Activism

Backbone Campaign Localize This Action Camp 2013
Backbone Campaign Localize This Action Camp 2013

We want to take this opportunity to acknowledge our incredible collaborators Debbie, Daniel, Megan, Amanda, Horizon, Mary, Katie, Bob, and others who achieved the nearly impossible this month. (And Bill wants to acknowledge Eric Ross for his incredible leadership on this!)

Despite daunting logistical hurdles and less than 3 days lead time, these people boldly executed 6 simultaneous solidarity guerrilla light projection actions in 6 cities on behalf of UltraViolet. These solidarity actions called attention to the prevalence of sexual assault, a culture that trivializes sexual violence, and the importance of believing and honoring the survivors. The rapid deployment and tactical skills of this team is an astounding example of the growing capacity and potential of our network of tacticians and Solidarity Brigades. (See more below.)

If you share our pride in the work of these grassroots change-agents and want to join or support our Solidarity Brigade network then click HERE to volunteer!

“Don’t Duck Democracy!” Join Backbone in Washington, DC for another FlushTheTPP multi-day training and series of actions organized with Popular Resistance November 12-17. CLICK HERE TO REGISTER. If you want to be part of the Backbone imagery and action team in DC or help Peter and Bill prepare beforehand, please email Bill. After 4 years of work to Flush the TPP, with major efforts to train teams and execute actions at negotiations in Virginia and Utah and now our THIRD set of actions in DC – we hope to once and for all Flush the TPP into the sewer of defeated folly.

It’s because of amazing volunteers and supporters like you that social movements for equity, justice, and environmental well being are growing more powerful and vibrant. This work makes a difference! We heard from many survivors who participated in the UltraViolet actions and those who witnessed them how heartened and emboldened they were by the very public displays of solidarity.
Thank you again for being part of Team Backbone.

In Solidarity, Gratitude and Collaboration,

Activists who oppose Royal Dutch Shell's plans to drill for oil in the Arctic Ocean prepare their kayaks for the "Paddle in Seattle" protest on Saturday, May 16, 2015, in Seattle. The protesters gathered at a West Seattle park and then joined hundreds of others in Elliott Bay, next to the Port of Seattle Terminal 5, where Shell's Polar Pioneer drilling rig is docked. (Daniella Beccaria/ via AP) MAGS OUT; NO SALES; SEATTLE TIMES OUT; TV OUT; MANDATORY CREDIT
Activists who oppose Royal Dutch Shell’s plans to drill for oil in the Arctic Ocean prepare their kayaks for the “Paddle in Seattle” protest on Saturday, May 16, 2015, in Seattle. The protesters gathered at a West Seattle park and then joined hundreds of others in Elliott Bay, next to the Port of Seattle Terminal 5, where Shell’s Polar Pioneer drilling rig is docked. (Daniella Beccaria/ via AP) MAGS OUT; NO SALES; SEATTLE TIMES OUT; TV OUT; MANDATORY CREDIT


PS – If you don’t have time to help in other ways, you can still be part of the Lumbar Club and pitch-in to provide the essential support that propels this work forward. Lend your support TODAY!

The Bird and The Bunny

Best friends.  The bunny watches the bird fly around and the bird watches the bunny eat her bird seed.  As soon as the bunny  wakes up, she hops directly to the bird seed bowl and drags it backwards from the parakeet. Eats till she’s happy then hops around the room like she’s on cat nip. Play music and the bird sings. I’m trying to crochet another piece and this little bunny is all over my hands watching me. So I set the project down and began typing.

She followed me and jumped all over the key board.  It’s sort of like having a kitten but ten times cuter. Have to baby proof stuff, keep her away from wires, my coffee, ahem.  When she wants attention, she gets it. Humbled by the way she does this all without a sound. She is teaching me telepathy. Organized 6 bags of wool and some acrylic yarn. There is an old tale on power storage. Witches and Sailors go way back.  They are called knotted cords. During windy days like today witches would knit or crochet or tie simple knots from any sort of cord. The winds would calm as the cords were knotted.  When sailors would pull into a harbor they would find the witches and purchase the cords to take back out to sea.  When caught in dead air, they would begin to slowly untie the cords and voila, 5 knots of wind, or 10 or 20.

Set the bunny back in her cage and now its back to crocheting. This project will be a shoulder wrap just for me, not for sale. And yes, the winds are calming. Wonderful therapy. Read recently that listening to Enya can lower stress levels by 65%.


Just what I needed.

At least it’s over with.  And totally worth it. Makes me sleepy.


Saw some sick sick people in the er a few days back.  No thank you.

It was the strangest experience.  They gave me a wheel chair, but I had to stand to go to the bathroom and the bathroom looked ripped apart shit on the walls, floors, seat.  Like I said, SICK PEOPLE.

Backed out someone took the wheelchair I  and found another much cleaner restroom…  When I met a seemingly nice janitor I mentioned the mess.  Janitor smiled said it would be taken care of soon, that’s what they do.  A complete lie. Four hours later, stil messier than a commercial kitchen ravaged by rats, shit everywhere. Some er huh?

Hint:  If the bathroom looks like that, expect the same level of care from the dr’s and nurses.  They simply don’t give a rats ass. So yeah, went somewhere else for the flu shot man. I’m very serious, the office in my pharmacy was 100% a cleaner environment with warm sincere caring smiles and positive energy.



Three years ago

Oh how does it go? Doug died Oct 23 or 24 2013 and Rj died nearly the same day a year later-2014. My two favorite people.

Once upon a time we were out on the rez in ceremony,  four days in the sun @ 115 degrees without food and water or sunscreen.  At least I was.  He was my back up.  They let me cool my body in the river.  There was a rope tied to a tree and laid down holding it floating. The water was cold but even after an hour I was still burning.  Parked my little honda in the shade while I was in the river. It hadn’t been driven in a week but for that drive to river.  It was less than a mile.

Began hearing this high pitched sound in the water and I figured it was time to go.  Climbed into my car and drove back to camp, but didn’t make it.  All I remember is seeing Doug with a hose, filling water buckets in front of Joe Little Coyote’s single wide trailer.

I don’t remember getting out of my car or walking up to him.  Just bending my head under the hose and looking up to see that my car’s radiator had blown its stack in an incredible fashion.  Doug suggested we leave the car and walk back to camp.

Rewind 5 days and I could write three other things like that.  What that friend did for me was above and beyond and anyone I’ve ever met is pale since doug, well except for rj.  My family rocks pretty though.  I was not prepared for the last three days in any way.  There went the hours of therapy and bottles of prozac right down the toliet. Yes, he was also a baker.  The day of both of their deaths the  power went out at my house.  I knew both times that someone I loved very much had crossed over.

Rewind four days and my lower back was killing me, had been working up those kidney stone studies so I believed an ultrasound would find stones, probably passed them by the time I made it to the er.  The pain wasn’t just physical, it was mental, spiritual and emotional. Again, I was treated horribly and met with disgust. My friend tried to help, to bring me to meet a social worker and this so called security guard wouldn’t let her in.  A nurse did though.  The security guard looked at my friend with hate like a demon and almost spit when he said, “I don’t know you.”  My response was, nor do you know any of these sick people including yourself. What a rat bastard.  Where do they find these guys?  PTSD Vets just waiting for a reason to taze a patient, convincing themselves all patients are isil? All hopped up on rage and fear and low self esteem. Just like anyone else during the vibes of the upcoming election. Sedated hard core, still wearing off. Have much to say when I level out. For right now?

Feel ok to say I pulled my iv and tried to leave. Almost fell through a sliding glass door, knocking it off it’s track.   Feel like taking pictures of all needle marks in my skin. They treated me like a pin cushion. That’s the way people with PTSD and Post Concusssion Syndrome are treated in ER’s and it also demonstrates perfectly how and why ObamaCare doesn’t work. Just follow the money honey.  Hospitals hate sick people with poor peoples insurance. Maybe we should all go back to food stamps for hospital care.



Two Years Ago Today


I collapsed and had a full on nervous breakdown.

No one would tell me whose gun it was for over a year. Could have spared me some agony as I tortured myself wondering if he even owned a gun. How if I had known he owned a gun I may not have valued our friendship or let him near my kids.

Two years before someone else would tell me what happened that night.  Two years today. They still haven’t told me where his ashes were placed. Not that I could manage to face it. They know that already, I’m not ready. They don’t tell me anything anymore.

I’m not seeing him in my house anymore, not talking to him in front of people anymore either. Not seeing his face on other people’s bodies anymore.

The only thing that I can think to do besides lighting a candle,  is to continue to play the piano he moved into the house for me. It’s been two years since I could even bring myself to sit down at the bench. He brought that piano and died three months later.

A month after he died I found myself on a bridge downtown in extreme kidney pain after being tossed from Virginia Mason after being blamed for drug seeking behavior regarding the kidney stone obstruction.  Had arrived in an aid car for it. But I have this brain damage and wasn’t making sense to them and they didn’t have a shrink on staff, so they said I was crazy and kicked me out in the middle of winter in the rain. Without  calling my husband, my shoes, my id, or bus or cab fare to the fauntleroy ferry or a ferry ticket back to the island, or a ride from the vashon dock back home. Cowards that they were, they called the Seattle Police to cover their asses.

My husband heard I left the island in an aid car so he was visiting all the hospitals looking for me and he found me.

Three hours later I was treated for the kidney stones at another hospital and when they learned of his shocking death, a son to me. They sent me away with sedatives and a list of grief counselors. My mistake was not taking the meds. Depression is like a tooth cavity, without treatment it can become extremely painful.

Four months later in my still untreated  grief I downed the entire bottle of those meds with a bottle of red wine that had been sitting around for months. Another trip to the ER. Seizures and convulsions for weeks after that.

That’s how I dealt with it. Not very well.

When I made it back to island, met so much hatred because I had publicly challenged gun owner irresponsibility.  The community had the highest youth suicide rate in the county if not the state, because parents were leaving their guns and bullets out like candy dishes. Under beds, in closets, behind the front door, even the kitchen table, like toys.  Look, if people don’t lock their liquor cabinets with kids in the house, why would they lock up their guns and ammo?  Let’s not even go there about how depressed and mentally ill the parents of those dead children were to live in so much delusion. Not only do we have a high suicide rate, this island consumes a very large amount of alcohol. You know, in Alaska, they take your fucking car for a DUI, they don’t wait for the predictably  certain traffic fatality.

One night after returning from the ER,  I was with my kids and their friends at IGA for pizza and a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair came out screaming and staring at me and screamed to our tribe like a banshee:  “I don’t fucking care, die bitch die!”  She said it over and over again, got into her black suv and spun out of there like with her big girl wheels spinning brake fog. The kids know who she is, her messed up family. Her status as a career senior. None of them have much respect for her, they don’t think she’ll make it very far with that anger.  It’s sort of true, driving angry like that is the same as driving drunk.

The kids shrugged it off and I haven’t said to much about it.  I’m reflecting tonight about what love is, by understanding what it isn’t.










Once Upon a Time


There was a haunted as fuck bus station that was turned into a music venue. The mainroom. View still mising the concrete 1/2 spiraling staircases. Best Halloween Ball and Costume Contest On The Planet. mainroom02rent_web

Minneapolis rocked hard. Not like Chicago. Not like New Orleans.  Minneapolis rocked because the city was dominated by His Royal Badass of Funkadelic. Purple scene began with Parliament and Bootsy Collins. Prince ran away with the title after Purple Rain, which should have been spelled Reign. Even Janet Jackson’s bass player lived in Minneapolis, gold record hanging in his living room. Used to kick it with him at this bakery called The Upper Crust, it was down the street from MCAD and he used to let me draw his face and hands while we played chess on cold days in the middle of winter.

Seattle will never hum Hendrix the way Minneapolis thumps funk.  The city had the largest population of multi racial couples in the us. Never felt race issues in Mpls the way I feel here in Seattle, where the ghetto is hid over the hill from the tourists.  Compared to Minneapolis this city is bleached.

Must be the space needle. An icon they softened with a ferris wheel built in a sand box. Trying to front like Paris. First of all grunge is not punk. Unlike Seattle, Minneapolis is a city that is clean.  A dirty city is a city that rinses the alleys with the chemical scent of vanilla. A city with billions in pot revenue has no excuse for the ugly of calling a state of emergency/fake bankruptsty due to the homeless population.  This was done by corporately twisting tax payer arms for fully funded twin stadiums with sun roofs.

Back in the emerald city there was a hair salon in a wharehouse that had a live dj, behind a fence.  Two turntables and a microphone.  Bass was always thumping. Concrete walls with holes punched out and the hairdressers stations were old school snap on stacking toolboxes.

The Queen on the scene was punk diva-Sonia Peterson,  who taught all her peeps the art of dreds, human hair or synthetic.  When the rock stars came in, she closed the shop for them for privacy the whole place was their green room, to name a few-George Clinton, Rosie Gaines, Jesse Johnson.

Back then Prince opened Paisley Park and Glam Slam.  People preferred throwing big parties at Glam Slam vs 1st Ave. Little known fact that the headquarters to Eckenkar a religion of sound, lives across the street from Paisley Park.  Eckenkar chose that location because they say it’s on a powerful ley line.  Perfect key of energy.


Trying to remember the piano bar where his father played.   BUNKERS! It was in the wharehouse district down by the river. Brick room with a piano in the corner, small place.  Prince played there many times under the radar. Had this feeling when he performed those last piano concerts in Canada. Tried to get myself there but it was such short notice I couldn’t make it. That was it. No way could I manage Atlanta alone. He died a week later.

His father an accomplished jazz pianist and composer, born in LA moved from New Orleans to Minneapolis in 1948 to escape the race hate of the south.  Married his wife a jazz singer from Minneapolis who he met in 1956. Married in 1957 and Prince was born in 1958. Prince was named after his father’s jazz band, The Prince Rojers Trio.




Still Life with Baby Bunny

She is a darling with her heart shaped eyes. It’s been a while now and really it’s the sweetest experience. She doesn’t ever make a sound but has this big personality.  She loves her peeps. Loves to cuddle. There is the finished wrap, it was like working a painting. Instead of adding cashmere found soft materials to weave through, soft and comfy and heavy like a sweater scarf I guess… was fun kept my hands busy and have another started.

Google Images: Prince & Parliament lol.

have to add the word funkadelic to find black people.


Did you know that Sheila E’s father had this jazz club in Oakland?  Or that he used to play with Santana?  His orchestra played all over the bay even Provo Park in Berkeley.  Sheila E.  with her Father, now that was something to see.




By the time I saw Santana-sans Pete Escovedo,  he was on drugs and during his perfomance paused for a while to go off on a long lecture about ufo’s. He was spent. We were too stoned to respond, we just wanted to dance. What a drainbow.  Packed up our blankets and went home like, huh. Must be his blue period.

Cooling out the mark.

It’s like when a meth head steals your twenty bucks and lets you think you lost it and then tries to help you find it.  That guy.  That’s my husband’s generous opinion of Mr. Trump’s less than professional statements regarding Medicare and Social Security in the final so called presidential debate.

That was what political suicide looks like.   It was supposed to be a debate not a maniacal narcissistic therapy session down a one way street. That guy. That guy who spewed blame like it was bottled up for a lifetime. That was his vividly livid bid for the button on the world stage.  That dialog wouldn’t fly in a family therapy session.  A smart therapist vs moderator would have ended the session after his opening remarks.



Permanent Disability

One day I realized how fucked up I am.   Like forever.  On that day I began to love myself for all the glitches and imperfections. Being ok with being broken.

Got some huge challenges ahead. The rest of my life to deal with only half a deck. There are some things some people do not come back from.  After a tragedy people change like it or not.  For me it’s now a long game requiring serious endurance.  To not be provoked by anti-service dog people.   Things like that.  Need to create a standard answer or script for fielding all the dog questions for people who can read and do inappropriate things anyway.  Something like, Where are your manners?  How is it you have stayed alive all this time the way you are? Isn’t it something that the dog has to be nice to you but I don’t? What does he do? Oh he’s my asshole detector, he has this whole asshole alert thing, see? he just said he doesn’t like you.

How to be publicly and  politely anti social?  I’m making friends with it.



Managing the MEDS

20 mg Prozac every other day & a benzo  that I can take up to three times a day if needed, for PTSD, Panic. There are occasional episodes of violent nightmares.  For me, if I keep my THC levels balanced, I don’t recall dreams.  The moment my THC levels drop, the torture begins.  Horrible enough that my doctor actually wrote a letter for a judge that said ceasing the medical marijuana would cause trauma.

Now there is new idea and it’s promising to me.  But there is a drawback. The one I haven’t tried yet is Prazosin.  Have had it on hand since JUNE.  It’s supposed to be approved by Vets with PTSD to stop vividly disturbing lucid dreams.

For Kidney’s:  Flomax, Ondansetron & 800 mg Ibuprofen. With rush to the ER for IV morphine or  dilaudid during kidney stone obstructions.

Here lies the contraindication.  Can’t take Flomax and Prazosin at the same time because they both lower blood pressure.  It’s a concern because I have very low blood pressure. Except during kidney stone attacks then my blood pressure soars to scary heights.

The choice is to risk the absolute guarantee of THC to stop dreams for Prazosin.  Which means not taking the Flomax.  I’m in too much physical pain to to stop taking Flomax. Waiting until the kidney stone work up is complete.

Until then my Prazosin experiment will have to wait.  First things first. The goal is to prevent kidney stone formation and painfully expensive trips to the er.  I think if I can prevent that pain zone,  I can cope and it also prevents the risk of getting hooked on narcotics and things like that.  One step at a time. Kidney stone attacks are huge a set back during treatment for depression. It’s a complicated monster.

Kidney Stone Test Kit

but wait there’s more…

They mailed it all. At first I was excited about a getting a package in the mail. This is not fun.  It’s going to take a minute to fill that tank. Drop it at the lab.  Wait. See a specialist, have an ultrasound and meet a dietician.

Three Strange Days

Learning to make friends with meds. My bunny jumped across my desk and knocked over my bottle of prozac, twice.  I was like, duly noted. I don’t get to complain about taking them.  If it was diabetes, same dif.  So I take the fucking meds. I love prozac, works great. When things level I used to stop taking them. Big mistake, now I check in at least monthly to monitor depression & meds.

So this other long acting valium wow holy crow that stuff works great for in the moment. Don’t mind feeling that way for a few hours.  Stops a panic attack in its tracks faster then counting to three. After a few days I began to struggle.  Nice place to visit. It’s amazing to me that it over rides the prozac, so that’s good to know. By the second day I was so moody, out of space and time. All warped out but wouldn’t let myself cry.

I was like what is wrong with me?  Ah, the trigger.  It’s been almost two years I think this week since Rj died.  During the wind storm I went out and covered the wood sheds with tarps.  Found one of Rj’s helmets in the yard.  He was so good about making sure that the kids were fully suited in safety gear.  Had an emotional outburst over running out of candles and lamp oil and flashlights and that is for me,  what I would call a panic attack.

Fell back on my safety plan.  Called people and said, I’m struggling, can’t shake it, that’s all. If I need anything I’ll call back.  It was a suicidal ideation that occured while on the sedative, not before. So I don’t know what to make of it. These are not a stretch of the imagination for the creative mind.  Sort of like a nightmare, but being awake and sedated. All I could do was wait for it to wear off.  Tried drinking coffee, haha, good night.  It is very important for me to name it because it takes all the power away from it.  Been working on this a while and my friends are like, ok, let me know if you need anything.  I promise I will, so far so good.





Chop Wood Carry Water

Practice the Sonata in C Major.  Slowly, modern musicians have a tendency to rush through it.  This sheet music printed copywrite in Canada 1927. Working with a revised edition with fingering, phrasing, pedaling, general information and instructive annotations on form and structure,and interpretation by Arthur Edward Johnstone.

In considering Motzart as an artist one is struck by the marvelous growth of his God-given talent. It is sad to relate, however, that his life was one of continual struggle with poverty in spite of Court appointments and high-born friends. So poor was he at the last, indeed that his wife could not afford even humblest funeral, and altho there were many that lamented the loss of so great a genius none was found to provide him with a decent burial.

It’s SO dated, begins with:  Music Education is no longer a luxury.  (yeah right, like they teach this piece in any elementary, middle or high school in Washington State. )

“Lacking a Music Education, the student can only mimic the teacher-there is no musical inspiration- he has no foundation fof music knowledge upon which he can build and progress.  Not only does the Composition offer the student the music score with authoritative pedaling, fingering, and pharasing, but the annotations include suggestions for competent study and practice, and for the proper interpretatons of the musical ideas.”

I’ve been asked not to listen to recordings, besides they are all played way too fast.   So…. who has the metronome?

Oh so YOU’RE angry. LOL.

Now you’re fucked.  Since we’ve all seen Star Wars, we know that leads to the dark side.

Bless the ignorant which means that they will never understand Joseph Campbell.  My guess. We got this left over zika thing in our dna.   OH, you didn’t know ?  Like scientists feel sorry for you. Or maybe they are not yet wise to Mosquito Man….  Here we go…. la lalalalallalalallalalallalla. Shut up.  Through another lens it was an uneducated society and an opportunistic virus.

Love is what i got.

I’ve learned that fire anywhere in the world provides heat. When we are cold we put our hands to the fire and we are warmed. We can say the same about love.  With absolute humility I am learning that the source of every religion is love.    Feeling so grateful to live in a country that values freedom of religion.  It’s the same as valuing love.



Little Bit

Had to send husband for tampons and coffee.  Boom Boom boom boom, woke reaching for ibuprofen and tylenol. Woke freaked from this nightmare.  Asked him, Is you is or is you aint my baby? My dog has flees?  What?   Hungover.  Yup, little bit.  Did take the dog for a walk through the woods yesterday.  Noticed this tree that an animal is shitting all over.  Before that it was all good with the dog.  But he would not go near that tree, he’s a total and complete puppy coward. But then I was thinking in my dream…. that’s cat scat.  Bet we have a cougar…  Totally serious.  Woke still looped. Where’s my coffee?      ooooo never read the paper before coffee….  there fell the other boot.

Cheer up.

It’s fun watching watching the wrath of GOP in its final death pitch before the election. Perfect Timing. The universe does have a sense of humor.



Hook line and sinker.  Here is the man with that powerfully beautiful smile.  The happy and positive energy brought to us in those words has been absolutely contagious.  My ten year old howled…. AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU… at the top of his lungs out the car window.


We are having  this long thing.  What bohemian means.  What eccentric means. What attorney means.  What rhapsody means. What happens when they meet. Hippies and Attorneys have mostly been historical enemies.

My daughter has forgotten and I am here to remind her.  The local school district had prepared for an Obama victory. There was a plan in place for the appropriate response on election day in her classroom.  My husband was shocked because on that day he took his daugher to the polls to witness his vote for Obama before he dropped her at at school. On that day,  despite all professional rules of conduct, her teacher stepped off the edge and offered her opinion as fact, when she said to all of her students that Obama was a muslim and a liar who could not be trusted and who was elected only because he was black.  (Her teacher who was not fired was later moved around the district  from teaching the second grade to teaching math at the local middle school.  My family received hate mail from the district for months after… )

My OPED letter was published in the New York Times, on election day, moderated by  UC Berkeley Professor of Public Education….   something like that…   the hate was waiting for him the day he arrived.  We are still facing the hate challenges in our local school district (they still hate us and always will) and I HOPE that this year, my daughter will experience an educated victory for what it is.



About Last Night


Poverty IS the true enemy, not just financial poverty.  Things are so complicated now that some of the most powerful challenges we face are due to suffering the poverty of ignorance. Many of the challenges we face cannot be fixed with money. The worlds challenges I believe, can and will be solved with love, compassion and unity.

Sounds Great Tonight

Some people warm up with Beethoven. Very seriously, his Mother’s name was Dorothy and he played this for her at her funeral. It made the Christians a bit uncomfortable. He has a thing about it. She told him a fantastic story about the piece when he was little.  Dancing fairies and magical sprites in one part of the forest. Goblins ghosts and gouls dancing in another part of the forest.  They meet and there is a fierce storm and all the little creatures fly home as fast as the wind would carry them.  As they reach their fairy doorsteps, the weather is calmed again.

When he was little she painted his portrait while he was reading the music and holding his violin.  She included fairies and sprites swirling around his precious little head. She was a pianist, a painter and loved to write children’s stories. That’s how she taught him to memorize it. She captured his imagination.


More Sleep Issues

Right before sunrise pitch black so I couldn’t see it. Right outside my window. My closed window.  Still it was so loud it blasted me from a deep sleep.  Spent a long time sorting through owl calls on youtube.  Looked at owl maps for Washington State.  5 hours later and I’m going with Great Horned Owl.  Just one.  Sometimes there are Barred Owls and awful sounding wars when they meet the Great Horned Owls.  Not this morning.  Just the one but like the other times, when I get up and turn on the lights, they leave.

I’ve seen Great Horned Owls in the yard by day and early morning pre dawn.  So I’m sure of it. They are magnificent.  Once I woke to make a pot of coffee and while I was staring out the window, saw one sitting in a tree branch staring at me.  Casually poured the grounds into the grinder, looked directly at it and hit the button like a chainsaw and it didn’t flinch.  It did leave, not because I scared it off, but because I scared off it’s prey…  That owl was like, I aint scared of your coffee grinder, bitch, I’m here for your cats.

I’m so tired.  So tired, it’s painfully debilitating.

Went out to look for owl pellets, nada.  Found what I think is bear scat at least I hope. And those completely toxic amarilissomething poisonous mushrooms and fungal looking brains. The only reason I went out looking is because my husband was running his chainsaw.  We don’t have raccoons here, because of our dogs. These photos were taken in the back forty, beyond the perimeter of my dog’s wifi fence.  No hair in the scat so it appears to be vegetarian, it’s just a guess. Different from other bear scat spotted in the yard.  That was a 350 pound male black bear. That was in the spring, here we are in the fall, still lots of berries, so I dunno. This animal has much smaller scat, hoping it’s not a bear cub. Guessing this animal is half the size of the other bear. If it was a cougar or a coyote there would be lots of obvious hair in the scat? Trying to make myself feel better. Actually I would prefer to take my chances with a black or brown bear vs coyotes or cougars any day of the year. As I was educated from Officer Capelli, what a nice person, very calm,  from the Dept of Wildlife, they take a while to hibernate, it’s a long process.  Not going to bother him with it this year, the scat was several acres from the house.  Whatever it is, it is staying away or trying to. The chainsaw must have sent it or them, running.