Janet's Blog

Who doesn't love a cute, cuddly kitten? Kittens are such fun to hold, and to watch, as they explore their surroundings, inevitably getting themselves into some kind of trouble, and getting themselves out of trouble again, just as quickly. I guess that's why people say that cats have nine lives... My local grandkids have been enjoying their excess of kittens all summer. Kittens are nothing new in the Stobel household. Their first two kittens were found, abandoned at the end of their lane, a few years ago and the rest, as they say, is history. Meagan and Andy were pleased to find that their cats were excellent mousers, or perhaps I should say,  volers , because they took care of the burgeoning vole population in record time, after all kinds of traps failed to make a difference in the hundreds of voles that had made their home in the Stobel yard. Since Meagan and Andy prefer cats to voles, the cats are there to stay. And, really, that is the main reason why cats have been domestic

For several years, as I walked near Scotts Bluff National Monument, I couldn't help but notice a golden, globe-shaped shrub that burst into glorious bloom every September. I wasn't familiar with it, since it doesn't grow in eastern Nebraska, where I grew up, but it lines the fence along the path I walk, and grabs my attention every year about this time. So, last year, I took its picture and let my phone's plant-identifying app put a name to it. Each oddly-named Rubber Rabbitbrush shrub is normally two to six feet tall and two to four feet across. I learned that it grows best in the dry, wide open spaces of the western United States, pollinating and blooming in late summer and early fall. Since Rabbitbrush pollen is a common trigger for allergy sufferers, it might be part of the reason for my fall allergies. Rubber Rabbitbrush is fast growing, reaching maturity in less than four years, and having a 20 year lifespan. It thrives in full sun, tolerates perpetual wind, and i

It must be hereditary--that compulsion to grow tangled tomatoes.  When we lived on the farm, Mom and Dad grew a regular garden on the north side of the big red barn, with radishes, peas, beans, potatoes, lettuce, and tomatoes, all in nice, neat rows.(Even at the age of three, I was able to push each shriveled pea seed into the moist, brown dirt.) The sweet corn, with extra to sell, was planted on the edge of the adjacent corn field. When we moved to Norfolk, we didn't have any garden at all, and when we moved to Fairbury shortly after my ninth birthday, there was no place for a garden--until Dad bought an old house a block away from the Hotel Mary-Etta, where we lived, and where Mom and Dad both worked. Dad bought that dilapidated house to use for storage, but he was most interested in the sizeable back yard. The first spring he owned the property, he tilled up half of the backyard and planted several rows of sweet corn, and at least a dozen tomato plants. He probably planted a sho

Naming a child can be a daunting task for parents. The name has to sound right, and it has to fit the child. Some new parents choose traditional or old-fashioned names, or even Biblical names, for their children, while others are determined to pick suitable names from the current year’s top 100 names lists. Still others use names that honor family members, or even a popular TV character. Some parents want unique names for their children, so they make up names or come up with one-of-a-kind spellings, not thinking much about the bullying their children may face, or how often they will need to spell their names for other people or offer some explanation for a name that is so overly-unique that others may think it is downright weird. These days, parents can find out anything they want to know about any list or any particular name by googling it, but when Bill and I named our biological daughters, we checked out name books from the library, and pored over list after list in hopes of findi

You've probably heard the story of The Princess and the Pea , written in 1835 by Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen, about a prince whose royal parents wanted him to marry a real princess. Apparently, in Fairy Tale Land, the only way to tell if a girl is really a princess is to stack up a whole pile of mattresses on top of a single pea and, if the girl feels the pea through all of those mattresses, she is the genuine, real deal. I'm no princess, but lately, I'm beginning to understand what that miserable night must have been like for the girl in the story. My misery is usually only momentary, while I grab the offending object from the top of my solitary mattress, where it has deposited itself under my sleeping body. Sometimes, I'm careful to not wake Bill, but other times, let's just say my single-mindedness may cause us both some distress. I'm not in the habit of sleeping with peas. Instead, I wear four finger splints each night, in hopes of keeping my arth

I read an article recently, stating emphatically that capris are out . Capris, defined as “close fitting women’s pants that end above the ankle,” or alternately, “just below the knee,” have been quite popular for more than a decade, this time, but lately we have been told that only unfashionable, old women choose to wear them, despite their practicality. Capris are considered, by some, to be unflattering because the hem often bisects the leg right at the widest part of the calf, making the legs look “stumpy, and cutting the line of the body at its most awkward point.” One commentator asserted that capris make a woman look like she is “standing in a ditch.” Some fashionistas further claim that capris are often over-embellished with cuffs, obvious pockets, and other details on the legs, making them even more tacky.  Victoria and me, about 15 years ago, in our "unfashionable" capris The name of these three-quarter length pants comes from the Italian Isle of Capri, where they fir