It was all woman's work!

 I have been over the hill and on the downward slide for many years now and I have learned many things.  The first lesson as a bride at the tender age of 19 was that a woman's job was cooking, cleaning, and figuring out how to budget with no money, because the paycheck never made it past the bar where it was cashed. My first husband was a tree trimmer and as such there were no fringe benefits and of course no insurance of any kind.  No job security because it was also his job to knock on doors and convince the homeowner that their trees needed his expert care and their car payment could wait.  He was good at his job!

It was also known that as "man of the house" he was the only one who knew what the finances were and he would take me to the grocery store and pay for what he thought we needed to survive. This same thought process carried over into the bedroom where birth control was unheard of because after all, his mom had 12 babies.  OK.  Enough said about that!

We were married for 10 years and the first two years were spent with him pointing out to me that I was barren and he wanted a baby.  That was all he wanted, a baby.  Well, actually a son.  He wanted a son.  I was sent to every doctor who had room for another patient and came home with the same verdict, "No reason why you can not get pregnant."  One doctor even hinted that perhaps my husband was sterile and he would like to test his sperm.  That went over like a proverbial "turd in a punch bowl.   So, I gave up.  Bad mistake!  I immediately got pregnant!

 Nine months later I had a daughter.  He had clearly told me he wanted a son and I had ignored him!  Ticked him off royally.  Now, you should know that back in those days, men were not allowed in the delivery room so the best thing to do was drop the old gal off at the front door of the hospital and then call later to see if the wife was still alive and had she had that kid yet.  And most importantly, when could I come home as there were chores needing my attention!  So much for love.

A year and a half later I had a daughter.  

A year  and one month later I had a daughter.

11 months later he finally got a son.  HE.  Not me.  HIM.  Finally I had gotten it through my thick head that he wanted a son.  Silly me!

If I had thought that having a son gave me any status in his eyes, you are sadly mistaken.  Having a son was not all it was cracked up to be because the little boy needed diapers changed and he needed fed with a tiny spoon and a bath and all that was in addition to the needs of the first 3 girls.  So the care of 4 children the oldest of which was 5 years old fell squarely on my shoulders.  He was an "old school" father and his dad never touched him, so he never touched his kids.  I have one picture of him holding Debbie and talk about a man looking out of place!

The marriage survived for ten years total.  There was one more baby, another girl.  Upon divorcing, I got the kids.  He did not pay child support because his reasoning mind said "You have the kids.  I have nothing.  Why should I pay you?  You should pay me!"  And in my co-dependent mind, that all made sense.

Sadly, death called him early.  He was only 50 years old.  I left Kansas in 1973 and have been in Colorado now for over 50 years.  This is my home.  I think sometimes about moving back.  Where is "back"?  Would it be Nickerson where I grew up?  Hutchinson where most of my kids were born?  Or Garden City where they were toddlers and we lived in furnished apartments and drove a car we bought for $35 off a car lot on a side street? 

I look out every morning through my east facing window and think about Kansas.  I see the sun shining brightly and think of "home."  And then in the evening I see the same sun setting across the Rocky Mountains and I smile.  This is home.  This has been home for 50 years and I am sure when God reaches down and pulls the curtain closed on my life he will lift me up, up, up and I will look down at the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and I will know where my home was, is and will forever be!

Always know that when God closes a door, he opens a window!

Peace....

Today is Tuesday, February 18.

It is the day before my oldest daughters birthday.  She will be 58 years old tomorrow and like me, does not care who knows her age because it is just a number.  I was 20 years old when she was born.  Her dad was not at the hospital, because back in those days most men left such jobs to their wives.  He did check in later to see if it was a boy or a girl.  Of course the fact that she was a girl was a big disappointment to him because he wanted a son.  Sadly he would be disappointed 2 more times before I was "woman enough to have a son."  He got drunk to cover his disappointment, but he did let me name them.  Debra Louann, Patricia Lynn, Dona Marie.  No particular thought to their names, just a name that popped into my head.

Back to Debbie.  When I brought her home, I had no idea what I would do with her.  I did have a bassinette for her to sleep in, a pile of cloth diapers, a diaper pail to wash the diapers in when she pooped.  I had bottles and a can of formula.  Also several baby t-shirt, pajamas, and several blankets.  I had a supply of glass baby bottles with rings and caps.  The bottles had to be washed and then sterilized in a special pan along with the wrings and caps.  As I recall, they were filled with formula and then once more run through the cycle to sterilize the formula inside.  She had to be washed with a special soap and God only knows what else.  Being a mother back then was a full time job.  Even the diapers had to be washed separately with special soap.  There was no time to enjoy being a mother, because if a germ touched her she would be dead and it would be my fault!

Of course her father never touched her and he sure as hell never changed a diaper, nor did he watch while I did that because it made him sick.  The door was for walking away and he did that quite often.  But, as I look back, I was the lucky one.  He never felt her soft warm breathe on his cheek.  He never felt her tiny fingers curl around his thumb.  He never experienced her first smile while looking into her eyes.  And her first word was "Momma".  She was a little white haired angel that would grow to be the "leader" as oldest kids often do.  Patricia Lynn was born 19 months later, but more about that when her birthday comes. (I plan on doing a blog for each one.) ((The best laid plans of mice and men oft times go awry.))

Today Debbie lives in Eastern Kansas on a 40 acre farm with her husband, Hammer.  "Hammer" is not  his legal name, but it is what I call him.  Few people call him Carl.  She and Hammer are raising 3 grandchildren.  These kids were born to her son who for whatever reason, does not take care of them, but that is a whole 'nuther story.

I have always thought, looking back, that I did not do a very good job of raising my kids.  We all know that life is 20/20 looking back.  I can now see very clearly what I should have done, but I can not get the toothpaste back in that tube.  Today Debbie put it in language I can understand.   This may not be word for word, but along these lines.

We had been rehashing the unfairness of wages for women working back when we were working.  The men we worked beside made twice as much as we did and while I was raising 5 kids that never came into play.  I worked beside men that made twice what I made because "they have families to take care of".  When I noted that I had a family to take care of also, I was told that I should get married.  That was at the Holiday Inn.  She had worked for her father and was paid half of what the men were paid.  It was just how it was back then.

Debbie has always held the belief that "What does not kill you will make you strong."  Today she told me that I did a good job raising her and that her grit and determination were instilled in her by me.  Not her father, but me.  I taught by example.  I am very proud of her for many reasons.  She champions the underdog.  She feeds the stray cats.  She instills responsibility in her grandkids.  She holds them to a higher standard, because that is who she is.

So, Debbie, Happy Birthday tomorrow.  Keep up the good work.  Always remember that whatever you do, someone is watching and if no one bothers to tell you that you are a wonderful woman, Mother knows.  I love you.

OMG! The great Ski King is here!

I recently came across a site on facebook called Kansas Old and Interesting Places.  Being from Kansas I find the history fascinating.  So I joined the group.  While perusing last night on the site, I came across a picture of a big white house located in Toronto.  I started thinking about when Duane and I were first married, before we had any kids and I remembered that we had lived in Toronto for a few weeks.  History lesson coming up here.

I was 19 and Duane was 21 when we married.  He and 2 of his brothers were in the business of trimming trees.  Now in this day and age they would be respectable and probably have an office some where, but back in those days, the car and the pickup were the office, warehouse, job site, and bookkeeping.  The first year we were married we lived in 14 different cities around the state.  We would locate to a town, sell our service, and when all the trees were trimmed we would move on to greener pastures.  It was honest work and Duane was a very good tree trimmer.  It kind of sucked not to have any real roots, but we were in love.  What more can I say?

Back to Toronto.  We pulled into Toronto and immediately went fishing.  First we rented a room at the local hotel.  It had a big room with a couch and bed and a stove to cook on in the other room.  Arrangements were made with the owners that I would clean the halls and the bathroom in lieu of the $5 a week rent.  I would go to the local grocery and purchase food for the day, cook it and have supper ready when Duane and the brothers came home.  Now, suffice it to say, that one of the prerequisites of being a tree trimmer was you must be a good beer drinker.  The day always ended up in the bar.  I did not drink at the time, nor do I now, but he and his brothers drank enough for me.

I remember this song, (click on the blue letters to open the link. Ski King ) Seems this happened either at Toronto Lake or the Fall River Reservoir.

Toronto Lake was some good fishing, for sure.  On one day I was instructed to cook up a pot of beans and the boys would bring home some corn.  Sounded good to me, so I cooked the beans and later that evening they came in with a peck or so of corn.  Well, unbeknownst to this ignorant little girl from the big city, it was field corn.  So I shucked a few ears and threw them in the bean pot.  After due time Duane pronounced it ready.  Hmmm.  That stuff was very hard.  So we cooked it longer.  It got harder.  We cut it off the cob and boiled it some more.  Now let this be a lesson to all of you, field corn is a whole different ball game then the sweet corn I was used to.  For our supper we ate beans and corn, but the corn was picked out and tossed in the trash.

To end this tale of woe, Yates Center was nearby and I had not been feeling well.  Duane took me to the doctor, dropped me off and went to the pool hall.  The doctor examined me and pronounced that I was pregnant.  OMG!  Where is the hospital where I will have the baby?  He looked at me like I may have just fell off the turnip truck and said "Around these parts folks has their babies to home."

And that ended our life in Toronto.  I am a city girl at heart and there was no way in hell I was going to have my baby "to home."  Hutchinson would become my home for the duration of my pregnancy.  I had a mother there and she had running water and all that stuff!

But I do have my memories of Ski King and I have yet to figure out how all this connects.  If you do, please share with me!

My little helper.

It is Lenten Lunch time at our church.  These occur every Wednesday at our church, First Congregational UCC.  They start at noon and they are free so come and join us at 228 West Evans.  We are an open and affirming church and all are welcome: 6- 60, blind, crippled or crazy!  Happy to meet you!

Nancy Donnelly used to until she passed away and left the chore to me.  She called it her "labour of love."  I sure miss her, but since I am the one with the big kitchen and the equipment, baking bread has fallen to me.  Last Tuesday I had whipped out my 4 batches.

I do have a little helper!

Let me see which side is my good side.

this one?

Or this one?

Some of you may not think that having a 3 year old kid helping in the kitchen is a messy thing, but just look at the benefits to that.  

1.  He is not parked in front of the television or some game system.

2.  His fingernails will get cleaned and he doesn't even know it.

3.  Soon the floor will be wet enough to mop.

4.  And the most important part of all is he is helping grandma.  This little boy loves to come to grandma's house!  And he loves to help.  And it only takes grandma 2 days or so to put things back to the chaos that was her life before this little helper arrived.  

In all fairness, most of my grandkids liked me when they were little.  Of course they grew out of it, but they still tolerate me most of the time.  It is just that the little bitty ones are so easy to amuse.  So I will enjoy this one until he reaches the age where life takes him in a different direction and then we will see what happens.  

Who knows, I may get a puppy.

Oh, the hell you say?

Birth and death are both amazing things that everyone of us will encounter at some time.  And it is utterly fascinating that at both those events we will be seeking the light!  I have had the pleasure of being present at both ends of the spectrum and I must say it was an honor every time!

First think about the birth.  What starts out as a little seed grows into a tiny human being in the space of 9 months give or take a few days one way or the other.  When the time comes it comes.  The mother does not have a choice as to what day and time this will occur in most cases.  Baby starts positioning itself for the downward journey and if mother is not ready, she better get ready.  I wonder if babies think on this trip?  I doubt it.  Birth seems to be one of the miracles of life.  And then here is baby!  In a well run clinical setting, baby pops out into a room full of medical people ready to catch baby and clear it's breathing passages, weigh the little bundle, measure, probe, prod, and so on as mommy and daddy, grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles, beam with pride.  That is a perfect world.

We are all born, there is no disputing that fact and as sure as the world turns, we will all die.  In a lonely room some where we will face out destiny.  We will be the mother or father, the grandma or grandpa, the aunt or uncle, son or daughter.  We know what happens after birth when we have followed the light into this world, but we have no manual to follow when we follow the light at the end.

I am a simple minded woman.  I believe in God and I beleive his name is God.  I beleive in the Holy Bible and I beleive that Jesus is the son of God.  I beleive that when I follow the light out of this world I will be swept up in the arms of Jesus and carried to a place in Heaven,  wherever that might be, where I will never be hungry or cold and will walk on streets that are paved in gold.

Those are my thoughts for this day as I set here thinking of my sisters that have gone before me and the babies that have come since.  My God is good.

Dental hygiene and a trip back in time!

So Monday I went to get my teeth cleaned.  It is a torture I endure with amazing regularity.  I have a new teeth cleaning lady so we visited a minute.  Now you should know she is a sweet young thing and has no idea what the good old days were really like.  I told her how I had been wearing tri-focal glasses for most of my adult life, but since I quit smoking I no longer need glasses for anything except to read fine print.  She was amazed as most people are.  She asked when I started smoking and I told her that I had started at the tender age of 16, so it was a habit I had for most of my life and I had been devoted to the art of blowing smoke rings and all kinds of stuff.   I told her that I had probably been smoking in the delivery room when I had my first baby.  She of course laughed because everybody knows you can not smoke in the hospital.

Ah!  but there had been a time when you  could.   I recall that in the hospital in the top drawer of the little dresser by your bed was an ashtray and a book of matches.  We had to furnish our own smokes and after delivering a baby one really wanted a cigarette.  The nurse would bring the tiny little baby in all wrapped up and she would hand the baby to me, the new mother who lay there with a cigarette in my fingers and the head of the bed raised for comfort.  Nurses were very concerned about the newborn and always cautioned the mother to "Try not to drop hot ashes on the baby."

I know there are you people out there who are aghast at this and think it is something I made up, but as God is my witness, this is true.  We smoked every where back in the day.  Doctors endorsed cigarettes and said "Throat hot?  Smoke Kools".  If we were in a room all fogged up with cigarette smoke and someone complained, it was there job to relocate, not ours.  We were smokers and we ruled the world.  Cars came with a cigarette lighter and an ashtray.  I noticed that is not happening any more either.  When I started smoking a pack cost 14 cents.  When I quit a pack cost $3.00 if you bought them by the carton.  Today they are $5.00.

I also told her that diapers have not always been disposable.  Everyone of my kids had thier tender little fanny diapered with a cloth diaper that was washed in Ivory Snow because it was " 99.44% pure.  It Floats!"  Course many years later I discovered that this was all a myth.  It floated because the man in charge of stirring it until it "traced" had left the mixer on and left the soap and gone to lunch and the soap had started the "trace" and air was incorporated into the soap and that was why it floated.!"

Diapers came in two styles.  The first was about 30" long and 12" wide.  These were folded in half and then in half again so you ended up with a diaper 7 1/2" wide and 12" long.  The other style was square and you folded it so it ended up triangular.   Men always liked cloth diapers because when the last baby was through with the diapers he had a barrel full of the "best damn grease rags" in the world.  Men never ever under any conditions ever touched a diaper before it became a grease rag.  Men just did not do that sort of thing.  That was women's work.

So now we are living in a world, where children must never ever under any conditions ever be exposed to smoke and the days of smoking any where near any place a hospital might be located is banned.  It is banned almost every where except in your home and then it is forbidden if you have a child.  Oh, and no smoking in your car if there is a baby in it and if no baby and you smoke you have to keep your windows rolled up so the only one you are choking to death is you.

Men change diapers now.  They cook and clean and do all kinds of womany things.  Hell, I think they even use deodorant!  I could be wrong, but I think so.

So, kiddies, our world is changing and we better go with the flow.  I am thinking that if it keeps changing as fast as it did the last 50 years, I may just let loose of my tentitive grip on reality and spin off into space.
But for now, I am off to bed to dream of another time and place where there were unicorns and sugar plum fairies!

I could not stop for death and so.....

I have often heard it said, "There are two things certain in this life; death and taxes."  Yet I read daily how someone is thinking they can beat the odds and off they go to prison; thus proving the first part of the saying and the long list on the obituary page solidifies the second part.  Friends come and friends go.  We move, change jobs, buy a new car, change religions, lose money in Vegas, and on and on; thus proving the adage.  There is nothing that moves this old heart more than a baby whether it be a human baby, a kitty, puppy, fluffy duck, or a baby fox that will grow up to eat my ducks!  It is the circle of life and it never ceases to fill us with awe.  We are filled with a driving need to survive and live life to the fullest.  Time is so short here on earth.

And yet, when a life threatening situation arises, we grasp life with both hands and hang on for all we are worth.  Our adrenal level kicks to high and we go into survival mode.  If it is a dangerous situation we call it "fight or flight."  We read about a complete stranger who wrests the child from the jaws of death, sacrificing himself for someone he does not know.  Or the soldier who dies in a forgien land to protect or freedom. 

But so much of what threatens our existence is buried inside where we can not see it in the form of cancer, AIDS, heart disease, or just plain old outliving our usefulness.  At some point in time, on some level of our existence we will face death. I can only pray that when my moment of truth comes I am able to calmly accept and embrace my ride to a much better place.  I had a good friend who flat lined in the hospital and was revived tell me this "I looked at the moniter when the nurses ran in.  It was flat.  I did not hear music and I did not see a bright light.  What I did feel was the greatest calm I have ever experienced in my life. Then the medicine kicked in and my heart started again.  When the time does come I will embrace death and the overwhelming calm with both hands!" 

This is a beautiful poem written years ago by Emily Dickinson.  She is one of my favorite poets and at this juncture of my life I feel this is most fitting.  She summarizes the whole thing better then I ever could.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Emily Dickinson

May 1 a week early!

Well, Lisa, I want to give you this little tidbit of info early so you can think about it while you are making your little baskets with your daughter.  Many years ago in a land that time forgot, there was a practice that people had which was really cool.  May Day!  Today the term May Day!  means that something is happening and we need all hands on deck to save the whole damn mess.  World wide it marks Workers Day and led to the first passage of an 8 hour work day.  In ancient times it was a Druid Holiday called Beltane, celebrating the return of warmth to the earth.  Purifying fires were used to assure a clean start.  Romans had a similar holiday called Floralia to celebrate flowers.  They were combined to become our current (or past) May Day celebration.

Here is a quick link for you. 

http://www.lifescript.com/food/articles/article_archive/c/celebrate_spring_with_a_may_day_party.aspx?gclid=CIzwzLSBy68CFbMEQAodiw2PYg&trans=1&du=1&ef_id=sbZPiEpOU3UAAIVt%3a20120423125052%3as 

Ah, but back to Nickerson, Kansas and a great memory.  There was at that time a special rite called the May Pole.  Our teacher constructed a pole with 6 streamers attached to the top that hung way down.  Our job was to take a streamer and skip around the pole thus winding the streamers around the pole and producing a rainbow affect.  Those who were not skipping merrily were to toss flowers at the feet of the skippers.  When the big day arrived the skippers arrived in their finery.  One of the girls was a little bit heavy and much better endowed then the rest of us flat chested flower throwers.  It soon became apparent that dear teacher had not put a lot of thought into the finery the girls were wearing, which consisted of pastel dresses with scoop necks.  Perhaps it was the mother at fault here.

The music began to play.  The girls began to skip.  As the music picked up tempo so did the skippers and so did the chest of Weezer.  As she skipped and bounced it became a spectacle to behold and we stood transfixed in mortal terror that she was going to put out her own eyes.  Some one should have thought the skipping thing through, but I will say this;  It was a lesson well learned for the teacher and all of us who would some day  be blessed.  And it was a memory burned forever into our memories and to our credit and in my knowledge, I do not think anyone ever teased her.  Well, not after the first day or so.  And she finished school just as respected as the day she started.

Fast forward to Huchinson, Kansas and 217 West 5th Street where I lived with my nest full of children.  May Day was on the horizon and the kiddies wanted to make baskets and give them to the neighbors.  So the night before they carefully constructed several baskets and awaited the morning.  I had to work the early morning shift and when I arrived home I was told that the baskets had been a big success.  Well, it seemed so until I found out just where they got the flowers for the baskets.  Seems they took thier little baskets up the street and picked flowers along the way.  Then they came back and hung them on the door handles, knocked and ran away.  Not all the neighbors appreciated a herd of kids tramping around in thier flower beds and harvesting thier bounty.  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one!

My first neighbor on the West was an old lady whose son was a policeman.  The kids would see her coming from the store and run to carry her bags and help her across the street.  Good little kids or maybe they were just anticipating the need of one day having a friend on the police force.    One day her house was egged.  She was devastated.  How could she hope to get that mess cleaned up?  Being a good neighbor I got a ladder and my kids and I instructed them in the fine art of cleaning up that mess, all the while wondering who in our neighborhood would do such a foul thing.  I found out many years later just who those mean kids were!  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one also!

So there, Lisa, go tuck the wee one in and cherish this time because I am trying to recall a cross stitch I did years ago that went like this;

Cooking and cleaning can wait for the morrow,

For babies grow up, we learn to our sorrow.

So dust you just lay there, cobwebs go to sleep;

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

A Colorado snowfall in real life!

Well, now if it has to snow, this is the way to do it.  Here I set snowed in by a foot of snow with one daughter, one grand daughter, one grand something in law, and two great grandsons, ages 2 & 5.  The highways are closed from here to Kansas and beyond.  Help!!
Some one suggested tranquilizers for them, but I find it works better if I take them along with a big shot of Jack Daniels!
I have measured all over the back yard and come up with a figure any where from 9 inches to 23 inches.  So I guess it is anyones guess as to how much we got, but here is the good news...it has stopped snowing and the sun is shining, so snow is going to be out of here in short order.  This is Colorado and I am in the Banana Belt part of the state.  The moisture here is usually nil, if you get my drift.  Even the geese did not get very excited when they saw the snow.  Just walked out and when they figured out their bellies were dragging bottom they just sat down.  They do not seem to mind the snow at all.  The only thing they do insist on is that the straw in the house stays dry.  I guess they are silly.  That is where that saying mother used to use came from...."Oh, you silly goose!"
OK.  I am going to go call Debbie and see if she is buried yet.  Just wanted you to know that I am house bound for a while.

This is a little family in the making, if you wonder what one looks like.

If you wonder what the life of Riley looks like, just take a gander at this little chickadee, all kicked back and taking it easy. 

 Now here we go just having a little peek at Grandma Lou.  This is the little angel that Grand Daughter Deven chose to weave a blanket and give it to her for Christmas.

And there she is hid behind all the toys that it is necessary for a tiny baby to tote around just to get through the day. 

And there is mom and soon to be dad.  I just wanted you to meet them.  I emailed her for the correct spellings on the names, but have not gotten an answer yet.  As soon as I get that I will formally introduce you to this little family who is slowly becoming a vital part of my life here in Pueblo. 

I do know the mom is Kimmie and her favorite food is Sloppy Joes!  I do know she is working on getting her Diploma and then going to school to make herself into something the Little Princess will be very proud of, and so will we!  Going to be there to see her walk up and grab that diploma and make us all proud!

Watch for them more in future postings!

It snowed at my house last night and now it is very cold!

Well, this is what greeted me this morning!  I had gone to Lamar yesterday morning to pick up my little sister, Mary, who you shall meet tomorrow.  We hurried right along cause I knew we had a storm headed our way.  As luck would have it we pulled into the drive way just as the moisture started to fall!  If there are doubting Thomas's out there who think the Good Lord does not look after this woman, think about that one!  It continued to snow all evening and this morning everything was white.  We must have gotten 5-7 inches except for that 3 foot drift in front of the tin shed where the snow shovel was snowed in.

 Down the steps I went to go take care of the water fowl out back!  Very cold !

 This is the end of my sidewalk and here is my Lilac bush.  Way on out there is my garage, the biggest garage in town.  I think it is about 1300 square feet on the bottom floor.  Course I have it full of crap.

 Now here is what I want to show you!  See those footprints?  Those are very big feet there and they are not mine.  No one else has been outside cause the boy does not arise until noonish.  Mary is still in bed.  What do you think they are from?  I do not know.  I do know I shall keep my doors locked and keep my trusty side arm at the ready, if you get my drift.

So, this shall remain a mystery and the sun will come and melt the snow, someday, and the footprints will go away.  In the meantime, tonight is New Years Eve!  Tomorrow will be 2011!!  Good Lord the years are shooting by in a blur!  Seems like only yesterday it was 1965 and I was stoned!  Oh, not like that!  It was the height of my baby making days.  You knew that!  Now here I am no longer counting kids, or even grand kids, but great grand kids.  I look back on the years and I am sure I remember because I surely was there, but all I can think of is that old song....

Old pappy time is a pickin' my pocket, can't make him stop it, pickin' my pocket!

or something like that!

Remember when I raised these baby birds?

I know it is difficult to tell what these are, so I am going to tell you.  This is a picture of 5 baby cockatiels.  This little fellow in the lower left corner is probably the oldest of this clutch.  The little pink one behind the white one is probably 1 day old.  I do not remember what year this was but there were several years that I was in the bird nursing business.  Like everything in my life this started out so innocently.

Kenneth, my late husband had always wanted a parrot.  Well parrots cost a lot of money, so the compromise was made to give him a gray Cockatiel, so that is what he got.  That was one mean bird, so we thought he would be better humored if he had a wife.  So we purchased a White Cockatiel to be his bride.  As luck would have it, this was a match made in heaven.  Or seemed made in heaven until she laid her eggs and decided that was not for her.  So she ripped the eggs out of the nest, but Big Bird put them back.  It was soon clear that Baby was not going to be a good mother so she was removed to another cage and Big Bird hatched the eggs.  He tried to feed them when they hatched, but it was too much for him.  We put Baby back in, and she attacked the babies.  So it was clear what must happen.  I must be the surrogate mother to these little feathered creatures.

This entailed mixing food and feeding them with an eye dropper several times a day for a couple weeks until they could fend for themselves.  All the time Big Bird hovered near and spread his wings for them to sleep under.  Big Bird had a bad wing and could not fly, but he taught the babies to fly,  They were in a big flight cage with a limb in it.  He would line them up on the limb and then push

 the line of babies up the limb and as room ran out the first bird would fall off the limb and flutter.  It was at this point that I learned just how much Mother Nature had instilled in her wildlife.  Big Bird had never laid an egg and he had never seen a baby, but he knew what had to be done and did it.

Meantime down in the cage in the basement, Baby was as happy as she could be.  I would set her on my shoulder while I sewed.  She would rub her head against my neck and chew on my glasses.  No sign of the aggressive bird that tried to kill her babies. 

We hand raised all the babies until they were ready to go to new homes.  We named all the gray ones "Snapper" and all the white ones "Baby".  One "Snapper" went to Alamosa, one to Syracuse, Kansas, and I do not remember where else.  We raised several little batches of baby birds and it always went the same way with Baby.  Well, and with Big Bird and with us.  Baby just never was the mothering type.  Sort of like some women I have met.

When they reached a certain age, birds die and it was that way with our two little  friends.  Baby died first and it was very soon after that Big Bird also died.  I like to think they were flying around the Rainbow Bridge when Kenny walked over in 2003.  I know he would have smiled to see them, cause one thing is for sure, that man loved his animals and they loved him!

One year old has the blues!!

Here is the little fellow at his first birthday party all covered with blue frosting!! Doesn't he look sad? He may just be realizing that the easy part is over now and the hard part begins. He has to learn to walk and talk, the potty training and then it is off to school so he can learn all it takes to finish growing up and how to make a living. Then it is off to work and a wife and a baby who will someday be one year old and have blue frosting and start the whole cycle over again!

The babies at 10 days old!

Look at this mess!! Those little guys think they are big geese! They are so damn cute! They get out there and run with the big geese and even bite at the stickers. If they are going to eat the stickers, I will love them to death and they did not learn that trick from the big geese. Big geese only want grain and nice green grass. They also like weeds, but only certain weeds and only ones that do not grow in the back. Just the front, so I can pull them and toss them over the fence to them.

I think if you click on this picture it should get very big. These guys made the first trip to the pond for a swim at 7 days old. Before that I had a container in the shed in which they would paddle around. I guess it was called a swimming pool! Duh!! Container, indeed! They have not quite started to get pin feathers so we are not sure of the breed these guys/gals are. Will not be really sure until they are about 2 or 3 months old. They, of course, are still making the peeping sounds.

Oh, and guess what I found in the duck house today!! Seven eggs! That means they are laying again and if I am not real careful they will hide a nest somewhere and I will be blessed with a bunch of ducklings! Had one hen surprise me with 13 babies one year. Not looking favorably on that prospect.

Ok, that is it from the farm for the day. Oh, man, I remember when I lived with grandma and great grandma and we lived in Plevna, Kansas. The high school was exactly one block from grandma's house on main street. When I came out the door of the school to go home for lunch I could hear the Farm Report blaring on grandma's old brown upright radio all the way home. Only time that radio was ever turned on was for the noon farm report and then everyone in the town of Plevna, population 103 (everyone of which I knew) could hear it whether they wanted to or not!!

Sorry about the change of subject, but sometimes the old mind takes a turn and I gotta go with it! Have a great day!!

One in a million shot of baby goose and the mother!

Every once in a a while you get a shot with your camera that is actually worth saving.  This is mine!  Baby geese began hatching at my house Thursday evening.  This is a long arduous process. I have an Emiden setting in one part of the compound and Goosie, this African Gray, in another part.  Goosie is a story in itself so I will cover the Emiden babies a little later.

About 5 or 6 years ago  Bret decided he absolutely had to have baby geese.  The fact that we had 20+ ducks at the time was immaterial.  So off we went to Big R for the purchase of 3 geese. I do everything living in triplicate for some odd reason that only God is privy to. Any way, the geese grew and were quite attached to us and the ducks.  As luck would have it, we had 2 ganders and the one hen.  The first 2 years Goosie would lay her eggs and I would eat them.  I called this retro active birth control.

Then the third year the biggest gander developed neurological problems and had to be put down.  I let Goosie set that year.  Her eggs were not fertile, so there was a stinking mess!  The next year I had acquired  3 pairs; 2 Chinese, 2 Emidens, and 2 more Africans. They all set, except Goosie,  and they all hatched and the ganders trampled most of them, but I did manage to grab the 6 surviving babies and take them to my friend Penny to take care of until they were feathered. While over there 2 got sick and died, one was ate by a coyote and 3 survived. When they got tired of taking care of them they brought them back. This brought me up to 10. One of the Emidens did not make it through breeding season, so down to nine.

I decided to let Goosie try this year and we were very happy when this little fellow pecked it's way out of the shell.  Bret spotted this shot and took it for me.  If you click on the picture it will get bigger and you can see the little fellow nestled in  Goosie's wing with just it's head showing.

If you are ever in my neighborhood, feel free to drop on over and check out my little farm here.  Better hurry though, because the fox is busily eating my ducks and you may not see them if you don't hurry!!

Have a good one, and happy Father's Day to all the male species, with and without feathers!

Here he comes! The Baby is crawling!

Here is the little Jayvan working his way across the floor.  Not really working too hard, he is actually moving pretty fast!  He knows what he wants and he knows how to go about getting it. In this case he wants Grandma Lou! I am Grandma Lou to everyone under 30.  Mostly because I am Grandma, cause I got 20 of the grandkids and a bunch of great grandkids. Not real sure, but I think I have about a dozen or more of those counting all the steps. But there are a ton of kids who call me Grandma Lou just because someone else does.  Before the Grandma Lou business it was Condom Grandma, but that is a whole 'nother story!

Now here is the little fellow and he has arrived at his destination and pulled himself up to give me a big smile! Now isn't that cute?  This is what makes life worth living.  This and the fact that someone will come and pick him up at 5:00 PM!  Life is good, but makes me miss all the other little ones out there who are too far away to come and play for a few hours.

Now today I am going to have this one and his 11 weeks old cousin.  Not for very long though, just long enough for me to thank the Good Lord that I have  the child bearing years behind me!

You all have a good day and remember "This too shall pass!"

Poor old Llama!

Last night I was having a little trouble sleeping. I call it my random insomnia. I looked out the bedroom window and there was this Llama all hunkered down sleeping in the field. It was a lonely looking sight, but I guess that is how it is.  I somehow took solace knowing the Llama was out there, also alone, and drifted back off to sleep.

Of course, I am now thinking about the sight of the Llama all alone out there. I know it is not alone, because there are 2 of them, but still each one is alone. Now I make the jump to my life. I am alone. Even if there are people all around me, I am still alone. And so are you!  One time I told a friend of mine "Gee, I thought I knew him better than that!" He replied "You never really know anyone, you only know of them." I thought that was the most profound statement I had ever heard!

Now, I know in life there are many profound statements and today I am going to think up some of them and perhaps blow your mind tomorrow. But for now, I am going to scuttle off into the kitchen and do the things that need doing in there.  Sister Mary will only be here for 3 more days, so I need to do something memorable with her today. Perhaps we will go walk around Union. There are a lot of antique shops there and that should amuse her.

Have a good one!

Klear Nearly Day or Near Klearly or something like that.

I forgot to tell you, Nickerson, Kansas also has a special day in the summer which is called Klear Nearly or Near Klearly or something along that line. If anyone out there remembers, give me a shout out because otherwise I will need to go research it and I have the little baby today and do not have time for that.
When I have the little baby, I have to be alert. If I am not alert the dogs will lick him and he feels  neglected if I wander off from him. Babies need lots of care. They are also very messy, especially the bottom half!