Bobchi

Katherine Komadowski

1921 - 2011

The Great-Grandbaby

Isn't she great?

There is Nothing New Under the Sun

Julie and I and the kids have been staying out at Bobchi's for the last few days, which explains why I haven't posted anything of late. The weather's been reasonably warm and nice recently, and we've all been making the most of it and spending some time outdoors.

Shiloh and I went yesterday to a relative's farm to watch them feed the baby calves (they fed their turkey, cats, horses, and cows while we were there, too). Shiloh thought the turkey was neato, the calves were cool, and the horses were scary. But best of all were (yup, you guessed it) the cows. How amoosing.

I hope to have something interesting up by next week (or, in the very least, something). I wonder -- should I post a new picture of Ella? Hmm... Guess we'll see.

The Belly Button

Ella's belly button came off today with a little help. Bobchi tells me that I'm meant to keep it ("For good luck!").

Bobchi knows something about this, as I found out first-hand. One day, while cleaning out a bedroom closet at her place, I came across an old and dusty toolbox. Flipping back the lid, I came across a small cloth bag that was tied up with string. My curiosity peaked, I pulled the string off and up-ended the bag into my hand. Out dropped a shriveled bit of yellowed... something.

"What's this???" I asked, turning it over in my fingers and examining it closely.

Bobchi smiled. "It's Carol's belly button."

Now, I wouldn't call myself an obsessive compulsive -- yet. But I'm just waiting for some incredibly creepy-crawly germy rotten disgusting thing to come along and push me over the edge into full-blown germaphobia. Something, for instance, like accidentally touching plus-fifty-year-old human jerky.

So you might understand, then, why my reaction to this bit of information was something to the effect of: "Gaaaauuuugggghhh!!!"

Bobchi and Carol quickly told me that this is quite a common practice (in this neck of the woods, anyhow). Carol even has the carefully preserved bellybuttons of all three of her girls tucked away on a closet shelf. What she's planning to do with them, I haven't the foggiest, but they're there in case anyone ever needs them.

So now Julie is saying she might like to keep Ella's bellybutton, too. Carrying on the family tradition of embalming, I suppose. In any event, it looks like this little bit of Ella might just be hanging around (creepily) as long as she does.

Pepe Le Pew

We have a skunk.

Bobchi has noticed it around her place at various times, and it seems to be coming back fairly regularly. Yesterday evening, we looked up from the supper table and noticed it wandering around back of the barn.

Of course, our biggest concern is that Shiloh might happen on it one day and, being unafraid of most animals, would get close enough to be sprayed.

Julie made a quick phone call to Donald, who came directly with an assortment of rifles and shotguns. I'm not sure if Donald was expecting a protracted gun battle with the skunk, but nonetheless Mr. Fiddler was well armed as he cautiously approached the barn from the east side, looking for Pepe, while Donald remained in the relative safety of his van.

Alas, it was not to be. Pepe disappeared into the tall grass behind the barn and made tracks for someplace else. And so, it would seem that Le Pew will live to see another day. Let's just hope that on future meetings, McLeod manages to get off a shot before the skunk does.

Food Stamps

We've been deep-cleaning Bobchi's place the last few days, and have run across a number of interesting bits of history in the process. One particularly noteworthy object was a Canadian ration booklet that was issued to her during World War II. It looks very similar to the one above, except that it has her name and info written on the front. Only a few of the brightly colored ration stamps were used.

While I was looking for a picture for this post, I found a Canadian site that sells these booklets. "Allison" is one of the available names. Guess I'm not the first Allison to make it to Canada, eh? (In fact, there are 78 listings for Allison in the Manitoba phone book.)

Mrs. Katzadowski and Tux

Winter in Canada isn't particularly kind to cats, even the wild, crazy ones that Bobchi* keeps around.

Of course, she didn't really "keep" them in any sense of the word; it was more like she offered them a corner of the shop to sleep in when they were in the neighborhood. Mangy, beat up, and unkempt, you never saw them most of the time; they were far too busy off in the bush having kittens and fighting with the other cats. Even when one of them did come wandering in, it would display, for all intents and purposes, the noncomittal attitude that it was his idea in the first place.

They'd never, ever let you get near them -- not that you'd really want to. All the fighting didn't do much for their looks; most of them limped, one was missing an eye, and they were all scratched up pretty badly. Imagine a mangey crew of cat pirates, and you'd have Bobchi's cats. It was no real surprise, then, that none of them made it through the viciously cold winter.

Once spring came, Bobchi set about restocking her supply of mousers. First, she called her nephew, Donald. He has a whole raft of wild, crazy cats like she used to have, but they turned out to be too wild and crazy for him to catch. Then a neighbor told her about an older couple who had found a stray cat that they were hoping to find a home for.

It arrived Thursday morning, personally chauffeured in a black satchel like a visiting dignitary. He's a sleek black and white tomcat, and is nothing like his predecessors. They were crazy and mean, he is gentile and friendly. They hissed and spat when they saw you, but scratch him behind his cheeks, and he purrs like a tractor engine.

"We didn't name him," the couple told us. "You'll have to think of something." After some deliberation, Julie suggested "Tux".

Tux took an instant shine to the farm, and especially Shiloh. He spent the afternoon following us around hoping to be petted, playing with Shiloh, and relaxing luxuriously under the trees.

We've fixed a temporary place in the garage for him, and we'll be thinking of a way to keep him warm and dry this winter. Here's hoping he lasts a lot longer than the others.

*We recently decided that we had too many grandmas (Mrs. Fiddler and her mother both answered to "Grandma"), and thought it would be a good idea to start calling them different names. Since Katherine Komadowski is Polish, we've started calling her "Bobchi", which is Polish for "Grandmother".

p.s. I'll post pictures of Tux later today.