Gay Pride Month

 Having been raised in Kansas I have ideas about politics that I should probably keep to myself, but you know me!  I will first go on record as saying, I was raised by a Republican registered voter mother and as such, I respected her opinion.  As I grew and matured, I realized that I was probably going to choose a different party.  And I did indeed choose differently when I became active in Colorado.

I became involved in the gay rights movement, which did not gel well with my mommy, but that was the route I choose and if I had it to do it all over again I would still have chosen that road.  Now my mother had a very good friend and co-worker who just happened to be gay.  Gibby was also a friend of mine.  We worked together and he helped me with the kids Christmas one year.  Good friends are hard to find and even harder to keep.

Sadly this all transpired at the time that a disease that was called HIV was rearing it's ugly head out in California.  It was the "gay disease" because it seemed to only affect gay people.  It was the "hot potato" of the political world at that time.  No one wanted to address it.  It was as if the politicains completely ignored it, "it" would go away.  Sadly it did not.

Randy Shultz wrote a book and named it for what it was "And the Band Played on".  It entailed the inaction that occured during that period.  The government continued to ignore the "gay disease".  It was indeed a phenomena in that only gay people got it and only gay people died from it.  Since it only affected that one segment of society it was not important.  But then it began to bleed over into the WASP community and that was a wake up call.

I do not have time nor inclination to go into all the  ramifications of the governments inaction at that period in time.  This is about my friend Gibby and how his life meant something to my mother and to me.  Gibby was not infected at the time I left Hutchinson.  Dates mean nothing to me in my memories of him.  I only know that I was living in Colorado when I got the call that Gib had moved to California and  he had tested postitive for the virus.  He wanted to come "home" for Christmas.  Mother was concerned about "catching it".  So to make a long story short, Gibby died in California and is buried some where that was not disclosed because of the "shame that surrounded his death."  His family was afraid that someone might "dig him up" and "desecrate his body."  And the Band Played on.

But as with most of life, time moved on.  The disease was named  Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome and later and finally settled on as HIV (human immunodeficiency virus).  It is no longer the dark secret that it was in the beginning.  Since the death of my sweet Gibby, I have been very active in the movement.  Some one in California started a memorial quilt with panels for each death designed and executed by someone who loved that person.   This is a link to that project.

I have designed and executed a miniature to be held here locally and shown the month of December at out local library.  We usually have a ceremony of commemeration on December 1, which is designated World AIDS Day.   Covid put a stop to that!   I have once more digressed so let me get back on track.

This is gay pride month.  So my hat is off to Gibby and all the pioneers before him who stood up and said "Yes I am gay!  And I am proud!  It is who I am!"

I am proud to say that I helped bring gay pride to Pueblo.  It is what it is and I have plagues in my china cabinet that proves I am more than just a clanging cymbal.

Smile down, Gibby, because I will never forget you and your unconditional love to me and my family!  And thank you to the doctors, nurses, health care providers and all the people who jumped into the fray to restore sanity to a period that had none at the time.

Peace!

Update on my trash service.

 Service?  That word is not in the vocabulary of the people who work for/own/ or drive for C & C Disposal.  My trash remains sercured in the back yard, but makes a daily trip to the front just in case they decide that I am worthy of having my trash picked up.  Better Business Bureau has not received my complaint yet.  

We used to have a newspaper and if we still did I could write a letter to the editor.  Maybe there is some way I can do that online.  Maybe I will call the health department today.  Since I have little faith in anyone doing anything for me I do not look forward to doing anything about this today.

So I am just going to leave this here and go get another cup of coffee.  But do this for me.... if you have a trash company that actually picks up your trash, give me a call.  I pay my bill on time and try to do all the things they ask, like not put dead animals and such in the bin.  I am just a little old lady who wants to get rid of her trash and not having much luck!  If I was even 5 years younger I would start a trash company and I would use my little Honda for the truck.  Sure would be better than the company now who just blows old ladies off and goes on their way.

Today I am going to do nothing about the trash situation, because I am tired and old and C & C Disposal does not give a big rats ass!!!  Maybe when the gray wagon comes to haul me out to the crematorium someone will notice my mountain of trash and give my estate a ticket for littering.

Oh, for crying out loud! Just do your job.

 I am having a very hard time believing that my life has completely changed and that Covid is to blame.  Prime example would be my trash service, or rather lack of it.  I got my bill.  I picked up the phone and called the office and paid my bill.  I know if I do not pay when I get the bill that I will do the procrastination thing and end up receiving a friendly reminder.  Most of my bills are on level pay with an automatic deduction from my bank account.  This one is one I need to pay every 3 months, so I paid it.

Next week I did not have much trash and so I am not sure if it was picked up or not.  Week 2 and no trash pickup.  So I called the office.  "Oh for sure!  So sorry!  Shall I send a special truck out?"  I did not think that was necessary.

Week three and the trash is now up over the top and the neighbor cats are having a field day!  So once more I called the woman  who is now my sounding board for frustrated old ladies who are spending a lot of time on the back burner!  

Of course she checked and they must have just missed me quite by  accident.  Could I just load it into the car and bring it out to the yard?  This struck me as rather ludicrous to say the very least!  I am 80 years old and drive a Honda Fit!  I am doing damn good to get a bag of groceries in it!  Trash is heavy and this is now beginning to smell like garbage.  I do not want to touch it, let alone load it in my car and haul it somewhere that I do not know where it is.  She assured me that this time my trash would be picked up next Thursday as scheduled.  Or Friday if it snowed, which of course it did.

By this time, the dumpster was overflowing, so I had wrapped it with a rubber rope and taken it to my back door to deter the 8 cats that live next door and love to forage.  So, I pulled it to the front yard for the trash man on Thursday.  It set on the front parking all Thursday night.  I did not untie the rope.  I thought I would run out when the man arrived.  

Friday morning dawned and my hopes soared.  Friday night I dejectedly drug that damn thing back to the back yard! Saturday we repeated the scenario.  Today is Sunday.  Tomorrow is Monday.  My trash day is Thursday.  I am beginning to see a pattern here.  Had I not paid my bill, they would tell me my trash would not be picked up because I did not pay.  So...... now what?

I will call out there tomorrow and she will tell me how sorry she is, but you know what?  Sorry doesn't cut it.  Society has rules and one of them is that we pay our bills on time.  I did that and here I set a month later with the same damn trash that I had when I paid my trash bill!  

So, do you have any idea how I can get all that trash in my car to haul it across town?  Will the secretary come to my car and unload it for me?  Or better yet maybe I can just take the tote up to South Road and leave it there.  Someone will see their name on the side and report it as abandoned.  Course that does not do anything about the 3 months of service that I have paid for, does it?

I will call the company Monday and the lady will be very sorry, but you know what, sister?  Sorry isn't going to cut it this time.  I am 80 years old and tired of being screwed with.  Every bill I have is on auto pay so I do not have to screw with people who do not give a damn about whether my trash gets hauled off or not!  You are not the only trash company in town so here is the deal....  I am going to send you a copy of this blog and then Monday morning I am going to call you, cancel by service and demand my money back.  Then I am going to call the Better Business Bureau and tout you as the worst trash service in town.

If you are so busy that you can not service your customers, you sure do not need any new ones!

Spring time will soon be here....again...Thank God!

I have been in this house for 36 years and I have fought the bind weed every step of the way.  Elm trees are my nemesis, especially when they grow in the fence line or sprout up in the middle of the Choke Cherry bushes.  But last year, I noticed that I am now blessed with cacti.  They are the flat leafed ones and I forget what they are called, but they have that fruit on the end of the leaf.  Prickly Pear.  I first encountered this little fellow 50 years ago when I lived out by the airport in Garden City, Kansas.  We had friends named Don and Claire .  She was of Mexican descent and wise in the ways of foraging for delicacies.  She came by one day and told me she found a field of Prickly Pear Cacti and wanted to go harvest some of the new tender leaves for food.

Since Duane was at work, I agreed and we loaded the kids up and away we went.  Oh, and I took a pair of Duane's leather gloves because she told me they were deadly sharp and we would need them.  So we picked a big basket full and then went home.  Since I had no idea what they were I let her take all of them with the promise that she would fix something really good to eat.  I carefully put his leather gloves back where I got them.  Bad mistake.

The first time he put them on he began to cuss.  They were full of something very sharp.  Oh, oh!  I of course confessed and I know they say confession is good for the soul, but trust me, it was not good for the ears or the body.  I had ruined his good gloves for nothing!  He was not going to eat that damn cactus and that woman better not ever show up at our door again and Don was an idiot for ever marrying that piece of what ever.  Any way.

So imagine my surprise when I went out behind the garage  to the area that was home to 500 million goat heads and 300 Sunflowers and lots of bindweed and found the cutest little Prickly Pear Cactus.  I was tempted to just leave it grow, but thought better of that and got the shovel out.  I cut the root and tossed it into the milk crate.  Then I saw another.  And another.  And soon the big double milk crate was full.

The survivalist  in me rebels against killing anything be it a cactus or a big tall Sunflower.  I could eat the cactus if need be for survival and the birds could harvest the sunflowers.  The strangest part is that I see no signs of cactus growing any where and the field out back is planted sometimes to a cash crop, so I doubt it they worked their way in from there.



Another mystery is the Centipede and how it manages to slither in my house when there are no visible signs of cracks, but slither it does nonetheless.  That is second only to how the bull snake manages to get in the goose house and eat the eggs!  I have actually drilled holes in the eggs and blown them out so my daughter could paint them and it is no easy chore!  First it is way bigger than a snake mouth and the shell is very thick..



So I guess, my biggest problems out here on the Mesa are the snakes, cactii and the myriad of cats that now occupy the neighbors garage.  Guess I will just set right here and let it all sort itself out.  If this is the worst that happens to me, I guess I am pretty lucky!

The bike lanes are going away!!!

Well, at least they are going away on Fifth street.  I must confess that before I leave the house and drift towards town, I say a prayer to the great white father that I encounter no bikes in town.  The streets are so screwed up with lines going here and there and bikes going both ways on one way streets and cars parked in the middle of the street that it is almost impossible to get from point A to point B without killing someone.  I waited for a car to go the other day after the light had changed and I finally figured out that I was parked.  And no where did I see a bicycle.  At no time in the last 3 years of becoming a cyclist friendly city have I even seen a bike in the lanes designed for them.   Oh, I have seen them on the sidewalk and I have seen them dart across traffic to get to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, but at no time have I seen a cyclist with their little helmets riding in the bike lanes.  Those people are rarer then the Dodo bird which was declared extinct many, many years ago. And do you want to know why?  I will tell you.

Many moons ago when I was a mere child I learned to ride a bike.  And I learned to ride a bike in traffic.  I did not learn to ride on the sidewalk because that was designed for people to walk on, hence the term side walk meant walk on the side. Side walk.  Not side ride.  It was a very simple concept.  If I was riding on the right side of the road the same as a car was driving on the right side of the road I was assured if a car wanted to pass me, the car could speed up and zip out around me.   Anything on wheels follows this rule.  When walking I walk on the left facing traffic.  I can step off the road that way and avoid getting ran over.  Simple concept.  Walk facing traffic and when driving or riding go with the flow.

In this manner I have survived 74 years without a scratch.  It is my opinion that it would have been much simpler and a whole lot cheaper to require a license on a bike and require the owner to pass a test.  Motorcyclists have to and the only difference there is that the motorcycle has a motor and the bike does not.

I understand that their are places where bikes are a major means of transportation and I think had the city fathers just studied how it was done that a lot of frustrations could have been avoided and the city would have saved a lot of money on paint.  My theory on this is that it was not broken so why did they have to fix it?

Spring, Sprang, Sprung!

I have a total of 10 Lilac bushes around my house and yard and every one of them looks like this.  They are loaded with blooms and the beauty is surpassed only by the wonderful fragrance of the Lilac.  I do know that the correct conjugation is not spring, sprang, sprung and that by so doing I have changed a noun to a verb, but Spring does that to me.

I understand that we are supposed to have snow today and this will not be the first time my Lilac's have peeked through the cold and frozen white blanket to cheer my day.  April is probably my favorite month simply because of the Lilac's.  Purple is my favorite color and Lilac is my favorite fragrance, so there you go.

I like to think that in another life I would have been a Lilac.  They are strong and can withstand about any condition:  below zero weather to a hot dry summer.  They do like sunshine and will struggle when planted in a shady place and wither and die in the dark.  Much like me.   

I am going to cut a bouquet of these and bring them in the house, but only because I have so many.  I do not like cut flowers because it breaks my heart to watch them die in a vase, but I only get to see these when I go outside and they make me so happy.  I can set on the deck in the evening and lose myself in beautiful dreams with the Lilac fragrance drifts through my reverie.

So, I guess you get the idea that I am maybe a little fond of Lilac's?  I know Spirea will be blooming soon or may have already bloomed, but it has no smell and the flowers are tiny so I over planted on the Lilac bushes.  

The day calls me, so off I go.  You have a good day and remember to stop and smell the flowers along life's pathway!

You can run into about anybody over at Janet's house!

And, as promised, I wandered off to Janet Altman's  house.  Now I tried very hard to talk myself out of taking a day off with my busy schedule, but I lost that arguement.  Janet and I do not get together very often since we are both very busy women with full schedules and an opening has to be forged rather than taken for granted.    Since this time was her turn to cook, I knew I was in for a treat.  Janet cooks the actual German cuisine and it is to friggin' die for.  On the menu for today was Rouladen served over freshly made Spaetzle Dumplings.  This is one of those cases where a picture is worth a thousand words and one taste is a sky rocket trip to heaven.   But let me first explain the fork.  If you will notice it has 5 tines.  It is a German made fork, as is the nice.  The knife is not serated, but is sharp and balanced in your hand.  Germany knows how to make silver ware that not only is a joy to use, but lasts forever.  Of course it is nothing like the set I picked up at the garage sale last winter.  I am afraid that this is probably something I am going to want again.  But the story does not end here.

I had barely gotten in the door and Janet filled me in on the fundraiser she was attending tonight when the phone rang and the gentleman on the other  end of the phone told her he had some pictures to drop off for the fundraiser and could he drop by soonly?  Janet, being the ever gracious hostess invited him to lunch and he said OK, since it was lunch time, but that he would not be staying to o long and he had a friend with him.  Imagine my surprise when the drop in guest turned out to be none other then Ed Posa!  I have worshipped that man since I first saw his work. These are the two picutres he was dropping off for the fundraiser at the Senate and I can not remember who it was for.  Damn!  Why don't I ever listen?

For those of you who are new to the art world, Ed Posa is the local artist who does the Indian Paintings.  Here is a link so you can go read for yourself.  I am sure I could set here all night and not do the man justice.Click here to read about Ed.

So the quite little lunch with a friend blossomed into a lunch party with Ed Posa and his friend, Clem.  I do know Clem was a student of Ed's when he was a swimming coach.  Course I did not catch Clem's last name either.  Hope it was not Kadiddlehopper!  No, That was Red Skelton's alter ego.

I do have to say those two boys did justice to the meal.   The first thing that went wrong for me was the battery in my camera went on vacation.  So I borrowed Janets camera and used my card.  Lucky me.  I failed miserably at getting a picture of her dogs, but finally managed it!

When lunch was over the Ed and Clem left and Janet and I headed out for our walk.  

We just took a short one by Minnequa Lake, but the day was beautiful.  What more could I ask for?  I got to spend time with my dear friend and fellow activist, Janet Altmann and I got to meet Ed Posa, one of my heroes.  

My idea of farming on the Mesa!

This is my rototiller.  It is a Yard Man and Kenny bought it for me many, many years ago.  He has been gone over 11 years, so you figure it was probably 13 years ago.  We usually bought our tillers and such used and then tried to make them run.  Never had much luck with that, so first time we had an extra $700.00 we went to Big R and came home with this.  It has reverse and starts and I was in heaven.  Our first decision was that no one could borrow it.  Something about having them returned with the choke wired open with a bread tie that just made us want to not loan anything out to anyone.  I have not even changed the spark plug.  Put a little Stabil in the gas tank the end of the season and I am good to go.  Oh, I have to dig vines, plastic bags and an occasional length of wire out of the tines, but that is normal in this country.

This is the lawn mower.  Unfortunately this is not the one he left me with because I loaned that one out a couple times.  No one likes to clean the filter and it came back with wobbly wheels, so this is what I have now.  And it is also treated to Stabil and runs pretty good, but nothing like that tiller.  

I had a high wheel weed whacker, but I loaned that to my son and you know the possession is 9 points of the law theory?  Finally got the small tiller I use to cut ditches back from him, but someone else borrowed it just for the day, and I am waiting for that back so I can cut the ditches in my tomato patch.

And in my zucchini and cucumber patch.

Put a new tire on the wheel barrow.

Bought a new electric chain saw.

Took down some limbs out back

Went to lunch with a lady friend.

Then came home and transplanted my pot plants!

And that night I slept like a baby!

Took my friend Patty to Beulah a couple weeks ago....

I think my friend, Patty, has not been out and around much.  Rather think she might be a city girl deep inside.  Early in the spring I took her for a ride out to Avondale to meet Sister Nancy and she was fascinated with the gardens and and countryside in general.    I thought  if she liked the ride East she would really get a kick out of the ride to Beulah.
So I gathered her up and off we went to The Stompin' Grounds coffee shop ran by my friend Jan.  I usually have soap and lotions for sale up there along with my book.  I do like to rotate my stock and since I had not been up since the Spring, off we went.

While we were in there a herd of deer trotted across the street toward the coffee shop and went out back to have a little snack on the neighbors lilac bushes.  I snuck up on them, because that is what I do!

And when I was through wondering just how I would go about butchering one of these things, I decided to sing the song she had painted on the door to her garden shed! 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9r0MQpUTIow

 

 

Coffee cup drained and our goodbye's said, it was off to one of my favorite places when I go to the mountains...an old cemetery.  I have an insatiable appetite for tromping around in one of those places.  When I first came to Colorado, Charlie took me to a ghost town up around the old LaVeta Pass.  I want to go back there some day, but in the meantime, I make do with the ones at the lower altitudes. 

 

 

 

I hope you are enjoying the little slide show, because I sure enjoyed making it.  And so Patty and I,   a couple frustrated but laid back hippie's bid you a fond farewell from beautiful Beulah, Colorado.  I am sure we will return here again and again.    I am sure of one thing and that is The Stompin' Grounds in Beulah is both a hippie haven and a damn good place to get coffee on a cold winter day!

 

Back to the Smokin' Sage!

Just a little note here to let you know I took my little friend by the hand last night and made a return to the Smokin'  Sage.  Selfish move on my part, but I have been craving barbeque like a house afire!  We were not disappointed.
We both had the pulled pork and it was out of this world.  I had a sauce with mine that appeared to be Jalapeno and Apricot.  They nailed it on that one!  I did not see what my friend had and it disappeared very quickly, leaving me with the impression that it must have been damn good what ever it was.
They are taking their little cart up to the Pikes Peak International Raceway next weekend.  If you get up there you better stop and tell them Lou Mercer said "Hey!"  Randy invited me, but unfortunately (?) that is the weekend I have company coming in from St. Louis so I am a homebody then.  
You know what I like best about this barbeque?  Know how some of it is really greasy?  Not this stuff.  Grease is not my friend and I think I have figured out how he does it without soaking it in grease.  See he has this grill that has baskets in it and it goes around.  Be impossible for grease to hang on to that!  My friend agrees with me on the grease thing.

I forgot to ask him what kind of wood he uses.  I will ask him next time I see him and report back in to you.

He is located right on the south side of the convenience store on the corner of Baxter and Highway 50.  Years ago Baxter used to cross 50 and go into the airport, but that was many years ago.  Anyway, he has a sign by the road, so watch for it.  Then you drive right in and get ready for a taste bud delight!  Have I ever steered you wrong on food?  Hell no!  Eating is vital to keep my little (?) body going and I do not put anything in it that does not taste good.

Now, I am thinking that winter is going to be coming along and I need to visit with them about what happens in the winter.   Pretty sure a blizzard could shut them down.  Would me.  But until then get yourself on over there and enjoy a little bit of heaven before it gets too cold.

And tell them Lou sent you!

 

 

 

If summer comes, can fall be far behind?

Ah, the garden has finally yielded nectar of the Gods, or in simple language, I finally got a tomato!  Let me show you my little garden of Eden here.  At first glance it may appear to be a patch of weeds.  That would be the untrained eye! 

See, if you just look way down here you can see a squash.  I planted two full packets of squash so the geese would have lots.  One packet was yellow summer squash and the other was zucchini which is there favorite.  I have 26 squash plants and only 2 of them are zucchini.  Big thank you to Monsato for that one, I am sure.

 

Here is the beginning of a yellow squash.  It is about 2 inches long.

And here is a bunch of them getting ready to be made into goose food.  See, if I pick them when they are 5-6 inches long and slice and sauté them with a little garlic and maybe a green onion....oh they are so good.  But then the skin is no longer smooth they are almost impossible to chop let alone eat.  The geese do not know the difference.  Stupid geese!

Now if you look real close here you can spot a little watermelon.  It is about 3 inches across and is going to have to do some growing if it wants me to eat it, and better yet, if it does not want to get frozen and have wasted all the summer trying to grow for nothing!  Geese don't even like green watermelons!

Some where over there on the west side are some potato vines, but I have learned that I need to wait until the vines dry up or I will have no potatoes.  I do not know why the call them "vines" because they grow straight up like a tomato plant.  Well, come to think of it, they call those "vines" also.  Here is one of them and if you can see a tomato, more power to you.

But, while I was rooting around there, I did find a big red tomato.  Hell, I almost jumped out of my skin!  What you see here was lunch yesterday.  Sorry you missed it, but there was only enough for one, and what can I say?

Oh, look!  Here is the angel Lyn set in my garden to make it produce and keep it safe.  I am thinking this little chickadee is falling down on the job!  But then again, I did get that tomato.

Now,  look what is right over the fence!  This is my New Mexico Sunflower taking over the area between the Choke Cherry Bush and the actual garden area.  That is where I bury all my pets, so it is some very fertile ground.  This is the first time I have had blooms for a while, because if you remember, the Llama's were over there for several years and they liked to eat them and they had very long necks and really big teeth!

 

Remember this?

So there you have my garden.  I have been telling myself for 40 years that next year I will do better and nothing has changed;  I grow weeds and occasionally God will toss me out a little something to eat.  But, you know what?  It has worked pretty good so far, so why mess with something that works?  Like momma always said..."If it ain't broke, don't fix it!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just a heads up for you biker fans or Sherman fans.

This is the "Sherminator" and it is ready to run.  Pretty sure this is going to Bonneville this fall!  The BMAC is having the annual Sherman Schroeder run and Dana called yesterday to tell me the plan.  We are not sure exactly where but it will be before noon. 

 

As soon as I know I will let you in on the specifics.  For now, just know it is in the works!

 

When Sherman passed last year he left the garage to his beloved British Motorcycle Association of Colorado, which he had helped found back in 1983.  Only one of the founders is left and hopefully he will be there that day. 

Any way, the club dug this out of the rubble in the garage and have spent the past year restoring it to museum quality.  This is going to be very exciting, at least for me

The cat and the hummingbird and NO CAMERA!

I have Sherman's desk that he left me right by the front window.  Outside the front window hangs the hummingbird feeder.  Inside the window is a bookcase and of course, a window sill.  Scenario is set!
I sat down in the little chair at the little desk for just a moment.  In that moment, the calico cat, Icarus, leapt on to the bookcase.  At the same moment outside the window, the hummingbird arrived for his afternoon feeding.
Hummingbird and cat spotted each other at the same moment.  Hummingbird came closer to the window to tease get a better look at the cat.  Icarus was plastered with front feet against the window while hummingbird dove and fluttered within inches of those deadly claws!  I knew exactly where my camera was.  It was on the front seat of the car, ready for action.  But I was inside the house and the action was here!

And isn't that rather how life goes?  Seems if I have the good shot in my eyesight, the camera is not near.  If the camera is near, there is not a good shot!  So, what does this say about my life?  Could it be that I am missing a lot of good opportunities simply because I was not expecting them to arise and I did not appreciate them when they did?  See the word tease up above?  See the word tease here?  That is called a strikethrough and it is done with a process called HTML.

 A couple of  years back ebay had chat rooms and I spent a lot of time in one.  There I met a man who was an editor for a newspaper in Chicago or some such place. (And he really was because I googled him and found his bio.  See, on the internet, you can be anything you want, until someone googles you and you are reduced to being an everyday nobody.)   Maybe Cleveland.  Anyway, at the time I was interested in learning the art of HTML.   I would ask him "How do I do the copyright sign?" and he would tell me. ©   See how easy that was?   Or something like this:

WATCH THIS

So I hung out in that chat room until ebay finally did away with our little playroom, but I still have my HTML sheets and I may very well surprise you from time to time with my prowess in this area.  Give me an HTML format and I can dazzle you, but do not be confused that this means I am a computer genius by any stretch of the imagination.  Just something to do.

Alas, back in May of 2011 I noticed Dan was no longer hanging out.  I emailed him.  Nothing.  I thought that odd and I started asking around the chat rooms.  Finally I got an email from someone I did not know, sent outside of the chat rooms.  It contained short note that said simply "Because you care." and a  link to an obituary.  And that was it.  I do not know why this came up today, but it just goes to show how thinking about a hummingbird led to thinking about a computing process which in turn led to thinking about something silly that happened many years ago.

I guess this just goes to show that nothing ever really goes away.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  And that, my friends, is my words of wisdom for the day!

 

Button class today, ah the brilliance of it!

Here we are at Lane's House of Glass where we can throw no stones!  This is located at 111 Colorado Ave., Pueblo, Colorado.  Phone # on that is 719-542-2210.   Now the way I happened to wind up in here was I was at the Weaver's Guild meeting and they said who would like to take a class on fused glass and I got confused.  For some reason I thought it was a wine tasting class and since my hand was already up and I was hollering "Pick me! Pick me!" when I actually figured out what was going on and I did not want anybody to know I was not paying attention, I signed up for the fused glass button making class.  Now, I had walked past Lane's House of Glass a time or two on my way to the homemade candy store (which incidentally, is going out of business if they don't find a buyer.)  I knew they had beautiful stained glass hanging in the display window, but that was a far as my tiny mind had taken me, until that day.

Now as I anxiously awaited the day of my class and told people, "No, I am busy that day at my fused glass class", I was asked several times exactly what kind of class it was and what was I going to do.  Did I get here before you?  What is fused glass?   I have no idea.  No idea whatsoever, but when I get done I will know what I did.  That seemed to satisfy my most ardent admirer; sort of anyway.

So today it arrived and off I went at the allotted time.  I was greeted by two of the nicest people I have encountered in quite some time; Bob Lane and his able assistant, Lisa.  We were ushered into the workroom in the back which was all laid out for us.  I at first thought the dark marks on the table were dried blood but was told that was a  crock.  See, I am smart enough to know that glass is sharp and broken glass is really sharp.  Bob asked if any of us had ever worked with glass before and I told him that one time I actually washed a window, but that did not count.

This is my work station.  It consisted of a big square of paper, glass cutters, pliers, some glue and lots of containers of broken scraps of glass and other stuff that I did not remember what was. 

These are my little palettes which I shall attempt to turn into works of art.  They are squares of thin glass.  The big ones are about 1 1/2" and the little ones about an inch.

Now after much brilliance I ended up with little piles of stuff that I am sure were what I did although I am not sure what I saw in my head and what ended up on the palette were any where near the same thing.  You people do know I have about as much artistic talent as a slug, but I gave it the old college try.

Here is my efforts laying in the bottom of the jewelers kiln.  Look kind of sad, don't they?  Ah, but wait!  The master will bake them!  10 minutes at some temperature, then raise it for another 10 minutes and then raise them to 1600 degrees.  I think that is right.  And voila!  The glass I had piled and glued and placed strategically would begin to slump and fuse together, hence the term, fused glass.  Get it too hot and apparently it all turns into a big ball and is good for not much of anything!

 

 

 

 

So, now tomorrow, I can go pick them up, because today they are really hot! 

 

So, I count today as a good day and let me tell you why.  I learned a craft that I had never had an inkling of how to do it.  I now know what fused glass is and I made some.  That is one thing.  I met two very wonderful people, Bob Lane and Lisa.  I tell you this much, they were very kind to me as I navigated this world that was totally foreign to me.  Bob did a lot of my glass cutting for me because I think he could foresee a lot of blood if he didn't.  Lisa is a font of knowledge and the two of them together made my journey a lot of fun.  And my fellow classmates were quick to point out my mistakes.  Ah, bless them! 

So if you think you can not do it, just pop right in to Lane's and tell them Lou said.  I am sure they will work you into a class and what is life if it is not the never ending quest for knowledge.  And it is always fun to learn how to do something first hand.  I am probably not going to take this up as a full time hobby, but it was fun.  Hey, if I can do it, you can do it.

 

 

 

 

 

Sammy comes for a visit and now he goes home!

My son flew in from Dallas a week or so ago and what a time we had.  Rather then rent a car or have me drive up to Denver, he opted for the little plane that shuttles passengers down here.  Methinks he may not make that choice again.  He is a seasoned traveler, unlike his stay at home mother, but this was his first flight on in a "crop duster.  His first clue that this might be different was when he stepped through the door and was told they would need to "balance the load".  He chose to set right behind the pilot so he would not have to look out the window.  He deemed the pilot to be a school boy out on Spring Break.  The co pilot seemed to be his baby sitter.  He was first instructed that in case of an emergency he would be in charge of unlatching the door and kicking it open!  And he took the orders very seriously!

The flight down was only 39 minutes from take off to landing, but he still had time to look around the cabin.  He spotted an instruction manual in the flap on the back of the co pilot's seat and wondered why they were required to carry them, being seasoned pilots and all.  At that moment the lady co pilot reached back and got the book, and my optimistic little son was sure she was reading the part entitled "How to Land the Plane."  But he did take precautions when they said they would be landing in Pueblo in just a few moments.  He braced one foot on the aisle seat and his arm against the fuselage.  OMG!  I would have given an arm and a leg to have been on that plane!  When he came down the stairs and into the lobby he was laughing that hysterical laughter that is a sign that one has been wound too tight and is now coming unwound.  Good to see.

And home to dear sisters we went.  Dona is my middle child.  She looked at Sam and the conversation that ensued is as follows:
"Oh, Sammy!  You have no hair!"
"Never had any.  Male pattern baldness!"
"You are getting pudgy!"
"Well, I have not been working out because I am busy at work."
"Still with so and so?"
"Yes."
"Wow you are lucky to still have the same one after all this time.  You are lucky to have anyone!"
At this point Sam turned to me and said, "Boy she really missed her calling!  She should have been a motivational speaker, because she is sure motivating me towards suicide!"

We did have a lovely 5 days which passed much to quickly.  And then it was back to the airport to send the little guy home.

Sammy at the check in counter.

In the "holding area"

 

Taxiing down the runway!

Up, up and

away!

Sam makes the flying thing look so easy.  I wanted to take a train trip this summer.  I could leave here and stop in Garden City and spend a day with the girls, then to Hutchinson and spend a few days with the sisters, and then Kansas City and visit Shirley, on to St. Louis to see Jeffery and Fred, and then finally to Dallas.  See, the train does not go North and South, just East and West.  And the train ride is roughly 24 hours with all the layovers and such.  Plane goes straight.  Much quicker.  I labor under the notion that if the good Lord wanted me to fly he would have made me a bird!

But I have only been on an airplane once in my life and that was because Kenny and Clifford tricked me and I almost showed them how to have massive coronary over a mountain pass!  But that is another story all together.

So, the son is back in Dallas, the girl's are back in Kansas and I am once more home alone.  Life goes on and time passes.  Right now, I am off to take care of the geese, then downstairs to sew and then up one level to list on eBay.  I leave you with this video from youtube.  Rather made my day.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=z1mhPVs0llI