Another year down the tubes!

Counting today, there are only 5 days left in this year.   

Momma nailed it when she said "When you are over the hill you pick up speed."  I look back over the years and try to find that skinny little girl that ran up and down Strong Street barefooted.  If only my life could be lived in reverse!  I see all my missed opportunities and think, "Woulda', coulda' shoulda' ", but I didn't.  Now it is too late!

When I came to Colorado all those years ago, I did so on a temporary whim.  I would come and live, but if Charlie and I parted ways, I would move back.  We parted ways and I stayed, but only temporarily.  But then one year turned to 2, and then 3.  I stayed and married Kenny, but with the goal in mind that when he passed I would return to Hutchinson.  When he passed, I didn't leave.  Things and commitments kept me here.  I own my home.  I have 2 kids here, 1 in Lakin, two in Longton, one in Texas.  My last husband is buried in Memorial Gardens and my name is on the other half of his tombstone.

I live all alone in a 2400 square foot house.  My friend list gets shorter every year.   We adopted Bret.  I also acquired 37 ducks and 7 geese,.  I built a pond.  Kenneth passed away.  I said when the ducks and geese were gone, I would move to town.  The foxes ate the ducks.  I said when the geese were gone, I would move to town. We are at a standstill now! I have 7 geese that are ageless!  I keep buying feed and they keep eating it.  Every night I close them in their house and every morning I let them out.  Once a month I go to Big R and buy 3 bags of grain.

My grass is dead because I forget to water it.  The 98 rose bushes I had at one time are all turned wild and been dug up and tossed on the heap.  Bret married and moved away and started his second family.  I just keep getting older.  I think about going back "home".  Where is home?  Hutchinson?  Nickerson?  Garden City? Lakin?

Every year I think back to what I should have done and didn't.  It is probably a little bit late for me to put the toothpaste back in the tube.  So, I get up every morning and go to bed every night.  Habit, I guess.  I know any one of my kids would like me to come and live with them, but I just can not see that happening!  I keep hoping I will get lucky and just not wake up some morning, but so far that is a pipe dream!

So, I close this and go let the decrepit old geese out, throw a rock at the neighbors cats that have wandered into my yard and look west at the beautiful mountains and remember why I never packed up and moved back to the flatlands of Kansas!

Peace!

As another year ends....

 Another year is drawing to a close.  As I reflect back on this past year, I realize how much I have changed.  You may not think so, since my appearance is much the same.  Oh, a few more gray hairs and my complexion just a tad more leathery.  My weight remains the same and the hair is still white.  The changes are inside.  The changes are subtle.  I suppose it happens to all of us as we move forward from the cradle to the grave.

I moved into this house in 1982 with Kenny Mercer and my two kids, Sam and Susie.  They were both still in school.  Sam would go on to graduate college.  The kids are both gone.  Kenny has since passed and I remain here on my "Gods little acre."  with 7 geese and a calico cat for company.  The grandson that Kenneth and I adopted together is grown, married and has three  children of his own.

Today was Sunday, December 24.  Yesterday was December 23.  On December 23, 1983 Kenny Mercer and I exchanged our wedding vows in front of retired minister in Canon City, Colorado.  It was 15 degrees below zero.  We topped the ceremony off by enjoying a doughnut at the local donut shop. Susie was in middle school and Sam almost ready for college.

Sadly, I lost Kenny in 2002.  I have spent over half my life in this house.  I look around at where I am in my life journey and wonder how this happened.  It seems like only yesterday that I was surrounded by a vibrant loving family and the token dog and cat.  How many sunburns did I suffer while on a weekend fishing trip?  The children are gone, replaced by grand children and even great grand children.

I set here in my 2400 square foot house with a detached garage and an acre of land and wonder just where this will all end.  I can't sell the house and move into town, because I have 7 geese left from the good old days when I had 17 geese and 47 ducks and a pond.  They have only known this little acre  of mine as their home. 

And if I should move, where do I move to?  Do I go back to Hutchinson, where I have only one sister left?  I have no friends that I have kept in touch with.  Do I  go to Garden City, where I spent many years with my husband who is the father of my kids?  He is since deceased.  Do I go to Lakin where I have one daughter?  Or Longton where I have two daughters.  I have one daughter here and one son.  And one son in Dallas. 

Life would be so much simpler if the good Lord had not given us free will.  We should be born with some kind of handbook on how to do this.  But we weren't so I am stuck.  Guess I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other until one day I just cease to be.  Then it will be someone else's problem, won't it?

Peace!

Minerva is right at home!

 So I have a puppy!  She is about 6 months old.  So far she has eaten the carpet on the stairs, 16 branches of the cotton wood tree, a hole in the wall, and many other things that I will no doubt discover at a later date.  She is a heeler and puts the geese to bed each night and wakes them up every morning. She has found my sewing room and the cat's litter box which is 3 floors below me.  I have barricades in place to keep her from that level, but it gets tiring to move a wooden barricade every time I need a pin, or something out of the freezer.

She is a very loving little dog, but she is a registered blue heeler and those of you on a farm know what that is!  I would love to take her to my daughter, Dona, who actually has a farm, but she has 3 dogs already and has her hands full with those.  Sadly they are just petting dogs and not working dogs, but it is what it is.

Right now I am at the computer with a cat on my left who will wake up and walk across the desk and step over the keyboard to set on my lap.  This will cause the dog to put his freezing cold nose under my right elbow and root it out of the way so he can get closer.  And that has now happened!  I left the computer briefly, but they await my return!

Now, she has moved her Puppy bed to the stairs and after falling out of it and rolling down the stairs 3 times, she has given up on that endeavor.  I was going to take a picture and post it for you, but this computer is way smarter than me and has hidden everything in a cloud some where and since John Tenorio passed away, I have no one to guide me through this process.  

So now here I set, wondering just what I had on my little mind when I started this blog entry.  I am sure it was important, but I think all I actually succeeded in doing is to make another copy of the 63,224 photos I now have in triplicate, and gave myself a headache.  I do now know that today is Saturday,  which came as a big surprise, since I thought I was on Friday!

So, off I go to let the geese out, after which I will shower and then wonder why I bothered since I have no where to go and nothing to do.  That is how it goes in my world.  How about yours?

Peace!

I am the old generation.

 Today I awoke with a cat on my bed and a dog beside the bed.  The dog is not mine, but the cat is.  As I lay there thinking what the day held in store, and it suddenly dawned on me, that I had no reason whatsoever to leave my little bed.  Oh, sure the dog and cat need fed and let out for a bathroom break, but other than that I could just lay there all day and no one would know, or care.

Once upon a time I had a mother, father, 4 brothers, 4 sisters, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins.  I had friends galore.  I had places to go and people to see, but sadly that has all changed.  My family is all gone except for one sister that I never talk to or see.  The one friend that I had for many years moved down south some where.  She had a daughter who was very disrespectful to me and my "brood", so we stopped communication.  The friends that I made here in Colorado have mostly died , or pissed me off for one reason or another.  I have no room in my life for deceit, disrespect, and judgementalists.  So I guess, as Mother would say, "I have made my own bed and now I can just sleep in it".  We all know how wise my Mother was!

I live in a 2400 square foot house, all by myself.  I have a cat.  The cat loves me.  I have 7 geese who do not!  They depend on me for food, water and a shed to keep them safe from the foxes and such.  Bret was 8 when I got the geese as babies.  He is 32 now.  Geese, under ideal conditions will live about 16 years.  This makes mine 24 years old.  Every morning when I go to let them out, I expect to find one with his feet in the air, but it has not happened yet.  Someone suggested that I give them to the zoo so they could use them as food for the lions.  That is not happening.

I have always said that when the geese die off, of natural causes, I will sell this place and move somewhere else.  My destination is not set in stone, just so it is some where else.  I entertained the idea of buying a small van and just going from place to place, but even that seems like a lot of work.  I could just call someone to handle an estate sale for me and walk out the door with one suitcase.  That actually is the most appealing scenario at this point.  I could visit each of my kids for a month at a time.  They would be glad to see me twice that way (once when I came and once when I left!)

But for today, I will let the geese out of their pen so they can play in the pond I built for them in the garden area.  I am toying with the idea of planting fruit trees in the garden area.  If I cut down the cottonwood tree, I can fit 2 peach , 2 apricot, and 2 cherry trees in that area.  Or I can just drink another cup of coffee and wait for Jeopardy! to come on this afternoon.  I love that show.  I turn it on at 3:00 and then I wake up about 4:00.

Peace!

Do geese eat grasshoppers?

   There are grasshoppers in my yard bigger than my cat!  They try to jump on my leg for a free ride around the yard, but I do not let that happen. I do not like their sticky legs.  I do not like their little tight lips, nor their bugged out eyes.  They are tricky little varmints.  They can land on a light bulb and not fall off before  propelling themselves off in any direction, except to the direction I thought they were going to jump.

They are not afraid of humans.  Insect spray does not harm them.  They eat everything in sight except weeds.   They do not eat weeds. They travel in packs!  They go from a tiny thing the size of a gnat into a 3 inch long giant grasshopper in seven minutes! 

If it were not for the fact that they are the most destructive things on planet Earth, they would be fascinating creatures.  They can fly.  They can take off from a dead standstill and become airborne in a blur.  They can jump further than a kangaroo.  I think they fly.  They are both aerodynamic and waterproof.  I think they chew tobacco, although I do not know where they get it!

I do not know where they sleep, or if they sleep.  I know I go out early in the morning and there is no sign of them, and suddenly the air is full of them.  Insecticide does not phase them.  I did buy something once that the man told me makes them sterile.  Birth control for grasshoppers??  That did not work either. I think it actually increased the horde!

I have seen my mother goose try to catch and eat one, but she failed in that endeavor, so I am guessing the geese prefer grain.

So, I am praying for frost.  It will not kill them, but it slows them down.  Back in the days of the pioneers, they talked of "herds of locusts, that blocked out the sun!"  They don't fool me.  It was those damn grasshoppers!  

They can put a man on the moon, but they cannot find a spray to eliminate the grasshoppers.  So what can we do to get rid of them?

 My answer to this is , "who knows?"  Just pull up my big girl pants and move on!  Winter will come someday!

Sunshine and grasshoppers!

 We are in the middle of a heat wave....again.  This probably does not come as any big surprise to most of you.  While the heat is almost unbearable, I have another problem out here in the country.  That problem is grasshoppers.  They are every where!  Or at least they seem to be everywhere.  I could rephrase that and say, "they are everywhere I try to walk!"

Grasshoppers are fascinating little creatures, to say the very least.  They have barbs or something on there feet or legs that is very disturbing to my skin when they land on me.  Now, granted, they do not make contact with me very often, but once was enough.  The fact that they are ugly as sin does not help at all!  So when one does land on me there is a lot of jumping and screaming going on from my body.  

Now I have a lot of weeds out here on my little acre.  I try to keep them at a manageable height with my mower called a weed whacker.  It has 2 high wheels in the back and a nose out the front with a string trimmer.  This thing is very powerful and can sling a rock the size of a lemon through the garage window in a split second, but it does not harm grasshoppers!  Nothing harms grasshoppers!

Now, I speak as an expert on grasshoppers because I have tried everything!  I even got a bag of something that is supposed to make them sterile.  Now, it will not kill them and it takes a season to get them all sterilized, or so the instructions on the bag said.  So the spray that was supposed to kill them only made them bigger and meaner!  The sterilant appears to be more of an aphrodisiac then any means of birth control!

One would think that with a ratio of 40 grasshoppers per every square foot of weeds I have that at the very least I would get rid of the weeds, but that is not happening either.  I have no idea what these beasts actually eat.  They do not trim the grass.  They do not eat the weeds.  The trees still have their leaves and the geese eat the garbage.  

I have thought about moving in to town, but I can not find an apartment or house that will allow me to have 7 adult geese.  And on that subject, how long does a goose live?  My friend looked it up on google.  Now google knows everything!!  It told us, a goose lives 16-17 years under ideal conditions.  Ok.  I got these geese for Bret when he was 6 or 7 years old and he is 31 now.  You do the math!  Hell, even Google is jerking my chain!

So, as I try to type with the cat laying across the keyboard and the grasshoppers laying in wait right outside the door, I am trying to count my blessings.  Actually, they are many!  I have a computer that works, a refrigerator full of food, and friends who love me!

Peace!  

Momma said

 When I come to a place in my life where I am not sure which way I should go, it seems momma always pops up in my mind.  She always had the answer.  Whether she knew the question or not was usually a whole 'nother kettle of worms!  She passed before my husband, so I spent many years muddling through without her wisdom.  It is just a good thing that I lucked out and had a good, honest man in Kenny.  I do not know how I made it this far!

The one thing she did leave me with is something I will share with you.  When one of my friends or one of my husbands had disappointed me beyond belief and I expressed this to her that "I thought I knew him better than that", she said, "You never know anyone.  You know of them.  You know the part they let you see."  Those words have came back to haunt me more than once.  Sometimes it breaks my heart to know momma was always right, but she was.

I try to take tentative steps in my life and if nothing pops up in my path, I do pretty good.  I seem to have raised 6 kids who are pretty much responsible and successful and I think for the most part my life is pretty good.  I know one thing for sure, I took/take very good care of the geese !  I got the first 3 goslings when Bret was 8 years old.  He is 30 now and they are still alive.  

My plan was to sell this place when the geese were gone and travel around the country spending time with the kids and grandkids.  Not happening!  Like momma said "The best laid plans of mice and men ofttimes go astray."  I have a hard time typing because I have a cat that insists of laying on the keyboard.  I have a 2400 square foot house and this is the only place she can find to lay.

Fall is in the air and it will not be long before I am out there shoveling my way to the goose house so I can break the ice on the tank so they can drink. I buy 150 pounds of goose food a month which I unload and put in a barrel to feed them.   And I cannot even pet them!  They have never pecked me, but they are not conducive to physical contact.  Well, hell, neither is the cat!  When I try to pet her, she bites me.

So, it is 6 AM and the sun is going to pop up here pretty quick and start my day.  I guess it beats the alternative doesn't it? 

Or does it?

Life here on South Road goes on as time flys by me.

 The January 6 hearings are over for now.  The tomatoes are in full bloom and the watermelons seem to be reluctant to grow, but life goes on here at my house.  I am once more in isolation because someone I was around has Covid.  Patty Lynn is here for a visit and she was with me, so at least I have company!

The tomatoes are in full bloom and I see tiny little green ones setting on the vines.  I think I have about 40 plants, so I should be good.  Of course the well is acting up and the pump man has been here once already. The 2 pepper plants I planted have refused to grow, but the zucchini looks like it will be feeding me pretty soon.  The Broccoli  refuses to head.  The geese are still alive and well, and I can not remember how old those things are!  Bret was 8 or 9 when I got the first 3 and he is about to push 30 over the edge, so you tell me!  I thought the damn things only lived 10 years or so with proper care.  According to my calculations I have bought and dumped into the barrel 72 bags of feed.  That means I have lifted 3600 pounds of grain.  Not to mention the cost of about $1000.  And that does not count the expense I incurred when my flock consisted of 37 ducks and 17 geese, which were all eaten by the neighborhood foxes.

But all that is irrelevant at this point.  My flock now consists of 5 ganders and 2 hens that show signs of perhaps living forever!  The grass in the back yard is non-existent!  What I now have for vegetation is something called Purslane.  This is an edible weed that the good Lord has blessed me with to keep me healthy.  

What is purslane good for?

• The health benefits of purslane may include its ability to possibly aid in weight loss, improve heart health, and ensure the healthy growth and development of children. It may also protect the skin, build strong bones, and increase circulation.  
• You can google it yourself.
• So I have been busy harvesting,  cleaning, and freezing this stuff.  It is every where in my yard so the good Lord must want me to do that!  Now there is a plant that kind of looks like Purslane which is poison and will kill me if I eat it, so I tend to stay away from that one, or at least I hope I stay away from that one.
• So, anyway, life goes on here at my house.  Hopefully I will be getting a new door on the back of the house soon.  I have been paying taxes on 2 bathrooms for 40 years and this past year I actually had the second bathroom added.  I had called the property tax people to tell them that I was paying taxes on a bathroom I did not have and she explained to me that I did have 2 bathrooms.  That was one of those conversations that left me shaking my head.  So, now I do have 2 bathrooms and I match the description on my tax bill.  At least I feel better now that I actually have the second bathroom.  Hopefully I am going to put a new door on the back of the house sometime soon.  The door I have now has a doggie door and a tiny burglar could creep in if I were to forget to put the cover on at night.
• So that is how things are in my world at the present time.  I have to go let the geese out for the day.  I put seven to bed last night and hopefully (?) 7 will come out this morning.  Patty will be making plans to head back home on Friday unless one of us tests positive for Covid tomorrow.  Keeping my fingers crossed that this crap goes away some day.
• Peace!

Turn around and she's two, turn around and she's 4.......

turn around she's a young girl, going out of the door.  click here  How fast the years go by!

Seems like when I think back over my life the highlights run together in a blur.  First I was the young girl running out the door with the love of my life and then I was running back through that same door  with 5 kids in tow because my life did not play out as I had envisioned it.

Then I was running out that same door with the new love of my life and heading West to Colorado.  The kids grew up and moved away, but life went on.  Now, as life slowly plays out before my eyes reality is a whole new concept.  When I was young, I grabbed life with both hands and hung on for dear life!  And what a ride it was!  At the age of 30 I had been through 3 husbands and was on my way to life in Colorado with husband number 3 who would also be number 4.  A 2 month stint with husband number 5 and on to number 6.  That was Kenny and when I said "till death do us part" I actually meant it.  We were married in 1983 after one year of living in sin.  He died in 2003.

I have lived here in this house alone since then.  I have male friends, but not any that I would have given up this life for.  My hospice work led me to one man who asked me to marry him because he had no one to leave his worldly goods.  We worked out an agreement whereby I inherited everything and dispersed it all to needy recipients.  That was kind of fun.  

There was one guy I hiked with so I would not have to go alone, but he was a bit of a jerk, so that never went any where.  I am honest and I expect honesty in return.  Compassionate to a fault.

I have been an activist.  I have been a pacifist.    I have helped people cross over in my work with Hospice in the Eleventh Hour program. I have fed the homeless.  I have rescued animals.  But the important part is I have been true to me.

I have loved and lost, but I have survived!  And I will go on surviving, because the German blood that runs through my veins dictates that I survive.  And the blood of my great grandmother makes me take care of people.

And my old mother goose lets me pet her sometimes!  Who can ask for anything more?

I might marry a goose!

Pueblo is fairly moderate so the Canadian Geese do not really migrate.  In the morning they fly east and in the evening they fly west.  Geese are very interesting creatures in that when feeding about one of every five geese is a "guard goose", meaning that while the flock feeds on fallen grain, the guard geese are alert to their surroundings.  If a dog were to come close, they would alert the flock and they would fly away.

Another interesting fact is that if one goose is injured in flight, two geese go down with the injured goose to stay with it until it is either dead or healed enough to fly.  At that point the tree geese will either join another flock or find their own flock.

The flock flies in a "V" formation.  The goose on the point of the "V" tires easily.  When it is tired it drops back to the rear of the formation and the goose behind the falling leader moves forward and takes its place.

These are my geese back in the days when they had babies.  My geese can not fly, but they behave much like the wild geese in the sense that the whole flock raises the babies.  If a cat came around when they were in the yard, the adults would surround the babies and hiss at the intruder.  It was always interesting to watch.  Sadly my geese are very old and while they still lay eggs they are not fertile.  I kind of miss the babies in the spring time.

I would like to go on record as saying my geese were very good parents, but they did let me touch and hold the young geese.  The brown geese in the picture are African Grays.  I am sure they are descended from the Canadian Geese.  Domesticated geese such as the African Grays, Chinese and Emidens can not fly.  It is the same with domesticated ducks.  The only domesticated duck that can fly, to my best knowledge is the Muscovy.  Muscovy Ducks are also warblers which means they talk.  Sounds like a bunch of kids twittering.

Well, it is getting late so I better bid you good night and wander off to bed.  My geese are all shut up in the goose house and safe from scary stuff so we can all sleep tonight knowing that the Canadian Geese out in the field are taking care of each other. 

Wish more people were as considerate of each other as the geese are!

Who's gonna prime my pump?

I recall in Nickerson that running water was more than just turning on the faucet.  709 North Strong Street had no faucets.  Out by the horse tank was a field pump.  When the tank started getting low someone, usually Jake, had to pump the water into the tank to fill it back up so the horses could drink.  At the bottom of the pump hung a can.  That can was filled with water from the horse tank and poured into the top of the pump while pumping in short, fast strokes.  With luck, the pump would "catch it's prime quickly" and water would pump out through the mouth of the pump.  If you understand the workings of a pump you know that there is a leather inside that when pumped up and down draws the water up from deep in the well. Occasionally the leather becomes worn and needs replaced.

The pump at the horse tank was a big iron pump.  The handle was long and we used to like to pump because if we could keep a rhythm going the pump handle would sometimes jerk us up off the ground by the sheer force of the water.  We were also allowed to get in the horse tank and play sometimes.  Can you imagine how dirty that water was in that tank?  That coupled with the fact that the horses might want a drink while we were in there scared hell out of me!  Have you ever looked at horse teeth?  They are big and very yellow and I lived in mortal terror that one of them would eat me.  Life was hard back then.

All the house water for cooking, cleaning, bathing or whatever was carried from the pump outside into the house in buckets.  The tea kettle that set on the wood cook stove was kept full at all times and a cup of tea was just seconds away in case one of the fancy ladies from town came.  (This did not happen very often, and to my recollection, never.  Mother did clean houses and sometimes a lady would come to discuss her availability, but they were usually in a car and stopped in front of the house and honked.)

Ah. but fate smiled kindly us. I do not remember who, why or when, but at some point in time someone decided that mother needed a sink and a pump inside the house in the kitchen.  It was then that we were blessed with what was known as a "pitcher pump."  Now this was the cat's meow in pumps.  It did not need primed!  When we wanted water, we just started pumping and very soon it would "catch it's prime."  Talk about uptown!  It set of the end of a big oblong enamel sink.  The drain pipe ran through a hole in the wall that extended about 8 feet into the back yard.  There the drain water ran out onto the ground where the Muscovy ducks played in it.  Boy, that was one stinking mess, but it was sure handy.

I have to go into detail here about the Muscovy Ducks.  Those are about the nastiest things I have ever seen.  When I had my 17 geese and 37 ducks here I had 4 Muscovy's.  Now to the best of my knowledge, Muscovy's are the only domesticated ducks that can actually fly.  The 4 of them used to fly up to the house, across the fence and roost on the air conditioner.  Nasty.  The hens were little and delicate, but the drakes were twice as big and their necks were as big as my upper forearm.  They did not quack; they sort of quibbled.  I did not like them and I think they actually broke the neck of one of my geese.  They even looked evil.  All this has nothing to do with pumping water, does it?

I attended my first 3 years of high school in Nickerson.  It was during those years that I made 2 discoveries; home brew and boys, in that order.  I had a friend named LaVeta (no last name) whose dad made and bottled home brew.  He liked to go to the big city and gamble on Saturday nights and we liked to stay home and sample his home brew.  Her mother helped us.  She would take all us kids to Sterling and there were boys there!  There were dances there.  Sadly, I could not drink and dance, so the dancing went by the wayside and I learned to worhip at the feet of the porcelain God.  I have not had a bottle of homebrew in 60 years, but I can still taste it.  Once more I digress.

In due time mother graduated from Salt City Business College and we moved to the big city of Hutchinson.  The rest is history.  Louella Bartholomew grew up and not longer exists, or so we think.
Some where deep in my soul, she lives.  Her memories are as vivid today as they were when she was living them.  Homebrew and boys are a thing of the past, but the wants and the needs of that skinny little girl are as alive today as they were in that stick and mortar house at 709 Strong Street.

Peace to all.

The nastiest duck in the yard.

As you will recall I, at one time, had a  flock of 37 ducks and 15 geese here on South Road.  I can only thank God Kenny did not live to see that fiasco.  In that flock there were 4 Muscovy ducks.  All the others were just plain ducks.  By that I mean they were plain little Polander which is a domesticated Mallard that can not fly, or a mix of breeds that were like the United Nations of Duckdom.  I did have one that walked upright.  That one was white.  There was also one that was a cross which walked about half upright.  When Mr. Fox finished visiting, I had 2 ducks left, a Polander and the white upright.  A friend took them to the pond in Pueblo West and to the best of my knowledge they are still living happily ever after.  Below is a picture of the flock about half way through the fox episode.

The point of this entry is to discuss the nastiness of the 4 Muscovy ducks.  To the best of my knowledge, the Muscovy is the  only ones that can fly, and fly they did very well.  Let me go back a little further to the house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.  You recall it was built in the shotgun design which meant you entered the front and if an intruder was in the back you could  fire a shell in your 10 gauge and the shot would travel through the house and hit the bad man without touching anything else.  On the back wall was the sink and pump with a drain pipe from the sink that went through a hole in the back wall and water from the dish washing process or whatever else could be disposed of that way without having to carry a bucket outside.  It sure made life easier for us lazy little kids.

So now you are probably wondering where the water went after it got outside, aren't you?  Well, the end of the pipe was about 15 feet from the house and that is where the water went.  Also in the back yard was where the ducks lived.  I do not remember how many we had, but I do know they were nasty.  They took their little beaks and dug into the standing water looking for God only knows what to eat.  Of course anything that went in that beak was going to come out the other end.  Needless to say we were not allowed to play in that standing water.  Pretty sure that was one rule that we did abide by!

Now, I have got to explain how a Muscovy duck is different than other ducks.  Domesticated ducks do not fly.  The Muscovy is a whole different story.  The neck on the males is very thick.  The males are also very aggressive.  They did not quack, but rather whispered.  And they flew.  The would leave the pond and fly into my small back yard and roost on my air conditioner.  Now I did not like that.  When I tried to shoo them out back the males would ruffle their feathers and scare hell out of me.  The females were very docile and about half the size of the drakes.  One morning I went to the fowl house and found a dead goose.  It's neck had been broken.  Since the fowl house was attached to a wire enclosure whatever killed the goose had to be inside that place.  I watch my geese fight all through breeding season and never have I seen that kind of violence.  It had to be one of the Muscovy drakes.  So I called the guy over on County Farm Road and he came and was in agreement with my findings.  He then loaded all 4 Muscovy's into his truck and off the to the sale they went.  I never tried Muscovy's again.

Above is what I have left of my flock.  Actually I have all 4 of the African Grays, which are the dark ones. One of them is a hen.   I lost 2 of the white ones, leaving me with 2 male Emidens and 1 male and 1 female Chinese.  The two hens lay in the Spring and I practice birth control via noodle making.  Snakes are rampant in the goose house since they like eggs so as long as I keep the eggs picked up, the snakes are forced to find me some other way.  I am going to get someone out here to go in the neighbors yard and move that pile of tires because I think the snakes live in there. 

Or under my deck!

Well, that is it for today.  Spring is here.  The ducks are all gone and the weeds are coming up in the fence line so I better get on the stick.

Time and tide wait for no man...or woman!

It is breeding season here on the farm, dammit!

It is inevitable.  When Spring comes and I go into the goose house and see the pile of straw in the corner, I know what will follow.  There is an egg in there.  I bring it in the house.  Next day, the same thing happens.  I have 2 hens.  Only 2, but they both lay.  I can tell by the size of the egg who did it.  Now, if them laying an egg and me stealing it was the end of it, that would be fine.  But it is not.  They have beady little eyes and they have tiny little brains, but they do not miss a damn thing.  They see me go in and even though I hide the egg I get that day, they make the connection.

If I leave the eggs, the old African Gray hen will set, because that dainty little white Emiden is sure as hell not going to spend her time in that hot goose house setting on a bunch of eggs.  If that was all that occurred it might be different, but unfortunately it is not.  Across the fence is a pile of old discarded tires and in those tires lives Mr. and Mrs. Snake and 85 of the baby snakes that never left home and have no intentions of ever doing so.  The goal of these 87 snakes is to devour the eggs under the little gray goose.  Her goal is to not let that happen.  I do not know just what my part in all of this is, but I know it is very hard on my heart!

Last night the little gray hen and her big white Emiden lover were the last to go in.  He was standing between me and his beloved to protect her.  When a goose goes into defense mode, they lower their head and shake their tail feathers.  I have never actually been attacked by one of my geese and I am pretty sure they are more afraid of me then I am afraid of them.  I have actually held and petted the little gray hen, so that big white Emiden does not scare me one bit.  Well, not much anyway.

When I open the door and see the snake on the nest and the little gray goose cowering in the corner, I immediately go into "Kill that bastard" mode.  In my heart, all I really want to do is get the hell out of there and pretend I do not know what is going on.  But primal feelings deep inside me make it imperative that I "protect the nest".  And since I am living in my lala land world most of the time, I do not carry a weapon.  So I throw a rock at it.  Snakes apparently have straight vision that goes out each side of their head, and the rock goes unseen.  Screaming does not help because I am pretty sure snakes are deaf.  So I grab what ever is handy.  In most cases it is something like a garden rake.  Ever try to get a 6 foot bull snake to curl up on a garden rake?  It is not happening.

This is an old picture that shows how the flock protects the babies.

This picture is Bret having killed one of the smaller snakes and disposing of the remains.  Now back in Kansas when I was growing up, if a farmer shot a coyote, he hung it on the fence.  I always heard that was so the coyotes would not come around lest they end up on the fence.  This particular year there were 3 big bull snakes (at least I hope like hell they were bullsnakes) in my back yard not 15 feet from my back door.  I have given up gardening because they hide under the squash leaves and scare the living bejeezus out of me.

So while you are comfy in your little town house or wherever you call home, think about this old lady out here fighting off horny geese, rabid skunks, 5 inch grasshoppers. egg eating snakes.  And there is no hope just because winter comes.  That drives the spiders and centipedes inside.  Every summer, I plan on moving into town, but then I have a second thought that beats hell out of that first thought.  So here I set, again.  My words for today are just this:

Brighten the corner where you are!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch!

To say my life here on my little acre is boring would be an understatement.  It seems like there is always something going on...well, not during Jeopardy!  Everyone knows what happens to me when I set back in my recliner with the cat on my lap and pull an afghan up over me so I do not get cold.  I watch Jeopardy! at 3:00 and again at 6:30.  Sadly, I have yet to see a full half hour.  If I manage to stay awake it is imperative that someone call  to ask just one quick question.

Now yesterday, I stopped at Big R to buy goose food since there is a storm coming and I do not want the geese to miss out on a meal and I hate unloading 150 pounds of feed in a blizzard.  So, I pulled into the back acre and started in with the first bag.  You should know, the neighbors have a Billy Goat Gruff with big long, curled horns.  He does not know where he actually lives so he spends a lot of time ripping things out of the ground on my side of the driveway.  As I started into the shed, I had to bump him with the feed bag to get inside.  I emptied that one, chased him off and grabbed another only to repeat the same scenario.  I do not even like goats and that is why I do not have one.  Third bag was tossed on top of the barrel and the goat chased off again.  I drove out and closed the gate behind me with him glaring at me from his yard.

To make a long story short, I got busy doing something and it was almost dark when I went to put the geese up for the night.  I let them in the outside wire enclosure and they were acting funny.  Since they usually do, I did not give it a second thought.  Then I remembered I needed to open that third bag and dump it so I opened the big door and took 2 steps inside and stopped.  Holy mother of God!  Inside the shed was dark and I caught a glimpse so something out of the corner of my eye.  It was big!  It was not a goose!  It was that damned goat curled up in the corner of the shed.  He was settling in for the night.  In order to get inside the shed he had to squeeze himself through the little door I have in the side of the shed designed for a much smaller animal.  Even the geese have to duck their heads to get inside.  Dammit!

Luckily I have a very good flashlight, so I went over to Mr. Goat and nudged him while shining the light on his path to freedom.  He could have cared less.  So I got him by one of his horns.  It became increasingly clear that he did not want to go home.  I finally got him out the door and that was as far as he wanted to go.  So I went next door to the house he actually lived at.  Cory came with me and between the 2 of us with a hand on each horn, we got him into their yard.  It was clear also that in the leap over the fence into my yard, he had hurt his back leg.  So I missed Jeopardy! at 6:30.  Dammit!

So, Michael brought up the subject of gardening a few days ago and I explained that I would not be doing that this year.  Why?  It seems that the last few years I have had a snake infestation.  I do not know how many times  there was a snake in the goose house.  I reached my limit when I was harvesting my zucchini and as I reached to move a leaf, I saw a snake curled up under it.  Centipedes love my basement.  Wasps build their little nests in the corners of my deck.  Spiders watch me from the shadows.  Farm living is just no longer conducive to my lifestyle!  I want to be where the lights are shining in my window and the jukebox is blaring from down below.  Well, not really.

I do love my solitude out here, but there is a lot to be said for the wild life that makes itself at home here on my acre.  I realize goats, spiders, snakes and centipedes are not exactly wildlife, but you do remember how the foxes devastated my duck farm.  But yesterday at the Big R, I saw my first signs of Spring.  They have three tanks full of baby chickens and they are so damn cute.  Maybe if I had chickens they would keep the snakes away.  I know they eat grasshoppers.

Something to think about.

Learning to let go is not going to be that easy.

I have been active all my life so letting go is not going to be easy.  I live in a 2400 square foot house, and trust me, every inch of it is in use.  Most of it is used for "stuff" setting around full of more "stuff" or with stuff on top of it.  I am contemplating moving into a smaller place, but that means I have to leave some of the "stuff" behind, or give it away, or burn it, or sell it.  Now some of my "stuff" is good stuff.

So some one told me I should hold an item in my hands for 20 seconds and if it does not make me happy, throw it out.  I guess I will try that.  First I am going to pick up those 2 little toys on the computer desk and then go put them in the Jiraiya toy box because I know he is happy having them there.  My biggest problem seems to be in just deciding where to begin.  I could start on this desk, but that is not going to work because this is all important stuff.  Most important is that damned cat laying in the middle of everything.  But you must understand, she loves me and wants to be a part of everything I do.  She also likes to go way up high and bat stuff off onto the floor.

I could go start at the front door.  First we have a bag of clothes for Sister Nancy.  Then a small table that holds 6 egg cartons for Penny, mail I will probably never read and a bag of crochet that I carry when I go sit with someone.  Next is 4 milk crates of books that belong to PFLAG which will go to thier new home soon.  Very soon.  I have a card table, and a drafting table and 2 sewing machines in the corner.......

The point is, it is not just a matter of holding it for 20 seconds.  It is a matter of which part of my life is that item going to be used as a vital part later on today.  I should go down stairs and start digging there.  I have a box of basket weaving stuff that I absolutely had to have and then never touched after I bought it.  I want to give that to Erica, but first I have to find it.  I have giant gourds that I have had for most of my adult life that I am going to do something with any minute.  And if I can just find that box containing every Workbasket magazine ever published, I can put it on ebay and retire on the profits.  

I am sorry.  The 20 second second  rule is just not going to work for me.  I have a second plan that will no doubt be more condusive to my way of life.  I am going to get old and die.  The kids can come in here and do the 20 second thing and I am sure they are not connected to this shit like I am.  But then again, there is the possibility that they may actually see a use for all this stuff and they can take it home.  Course I am not sure any of them have room for 2 floor looms, 4 sergers, 5 sewing machines, a 6 needle embroidery machine, 7,000 bolts of fabric and 11, 426 spools of thread.  But I could be wrong.  

So here is the plan.  I am going to publish this blog and if I have anything you are interested in, give me a call.  Otherwise, I will be setting right in the middle of the whole mess wondering just where my things took possession of me rather than me possessing them.  

So having once more foiled myself in my desire to empty out this house and move into an efficiency  apartment in town, I will go have a Happy Valentine's Day coffee at Starbucks with my friend Nancy and buy 3 bags of goose food for the 8 geese out back that would never fit in the kitchen in town.  Oh, and the dog and cat seem to be at home here.  

But maybe some day.  Just not going to happen today.

The straw that broke the camels back.

I am a patient person.  Really!  Through my life I have tolerated things that went against my grain for the sake of  "peace in the marriage," "peace in the church,"  "peace in the job place, "peace on earth," and the whole nine yards.  I am generally a peace loving person, but when I get a belly full, I am done.  I tolerated my first husbands drinking and general bad behavior for 10 years and then I was done.  Kit and caboodle was out of there.  I lasted 6 years at my first job until the boss got under my skin one too many times, and out the door I went.  It took me 2 years to leave the church I attended for 15 years before I started attending First Church.  I was seeing a guy for the last 5 years, but then I reached the point where, "Nope!  not this time.  I deserve better than this."  So here I set reflecting on just what I am going to get sick and tired of next.

Mother taught me well, the lessons of life.  She always told me that "some day you will have a belly full of that and it will all change."  "Oh, but momma, I love him so." And when I came dragging in with my kids in tow, asking for a place to stay, she simply said, "So what was the straw that broke the camel's back?"  Reflecting back on that particular time in my life, I do not remember.  Like she said, I just got my belly full.  One indignity at a time, one day at a time, one word at a time and it all adds up to a load that I could no longer carry.

Same with the church.  I loved that church.  That church helped me over rough spots when I was first aware of the AIDS epidemic.  That church was there when we adopted our grandson.  And that church saw me through losing my husband.  But then one straw at a time, they changed direction and made choices that I thought were unfair.  I tried to right them, but the camel could not carry me through.  And so I left.

The jobs were always easy to walk away from, because I figure if I am working 8-9 hours a day in an environment where I am happy and feel appreciated, I can tolerate the customers and the demands, but I can not survive in an atmosphere of discontent.  Not happening.

As for the last boyfriend, he was just that.  Not going to try that again.  I can not blame him.  The personality that I perceived was not the personality that was his true inner self.  There are traits I must have in friends and I do not know if he changed or his true self came out, but either way, history has stepped in and that is water under the bridge.  It takes a helluvaman to walk through life with me.  And as the saying goes, "Many are called, but few are chosen."  (That one may have came from the Bible and not from Mother.)

So, now let's get back to looking for that camel I was talking about.  Right now, I am taking a hiatus from life as I know it.  I have been Don Quixote for too many years.  I have tilted my blade at Homophobics, AIDS, DACA, Homelessness, Poverty, the environment, politics, animal welfare, domestic violence, adoption, Black lives matter, all lives matter, Indigenous people, NFL kneeling,
and God only knows what else.  I have retired from Hospice, Posada, Save the Whales and am now setting at home and looking at the mess I have made of my life.

I have a house full of junk because I have ran through the gambit of ceramics, sewing, quilting, knitting, weaving, gardening, and any other hobby you can conceive.  I have every item ever needed to do any hobby you think could have been invented.  I am old.  I want a house I can live in that does not have 4 levels and a yard I can look at and not have to mow for 2 hours once a week.  My dogs are old.  My geese are old.  Cat: not so much.

I can close my eyes and see that little mother of mine looking down with her fingers over her mouth and the twinkle in her bright little hazel eyes and asking me,  "So what did you think was going to happen when you started all this?  And just which straw broke this camel's back?"

Thanks, mom!

Look Paul! I must have stolen a horse!!

My friend, Paul from the other church, has been taking riding lessons for over a year and finally bought a horse.  It is a match made in heaven.  As for me, I have always been afraid of horses.  Have you seen their teeth?  Those things are huge and I do not want to make one of them mad and have it bite me.  I am doing  very well with the cat and 2 dogs that reside with me.  We get along pretty good as long as I keep the groceries coming and the bed warm and the water dish full of fresh H2O.  But something has happened to make me question whether I have perhaps been living alone to long.  I did harvest the grapes and make juice which I drank all of it, but it was not made into wine so it should not affect me at all.

These are my grapes.  I only have one vine left, but they are the dark blue Concord with seeds.  Baby eats them by the handful, bug, bird poop and all so I figured I better get them picked and processed if I wanted them.  Best juice ever and not a drop of sugar in the whole gallon of juice.  If I were a jelly eater, I would have made jelly, but I am not so I just drank it all except what I shared with Baby.

This is my Climbing Cecile Brunner which did not bloom this spring at all.  I was very disappointed, but on a day when I was sad I looked at the bottom of the bush and here was a pretty little rose just for me!

But, now this is what happened the other morning.  I got up and went outside to hop in the mobile and go some where.  I passed this on the way to the car and did a double take.  What!  That looks like horse dodo.  Upon closer inspection it turned out that it was indeed horse leavings on my front lawn.  I was pretty sure I did not have a horse when I went to bed and upon further investigation I could not find one of the big hairy things anywhere on my property.  Not any on the neighbor lady's premises either.  I am very happy that I lock the doors at night, because Lord only knows what might turn up in there if I am not careful.  I do recall in the early years of homesteading out here on the Mesa that I had planted Tulips across the front of the house and I came back from town to find a big cow munching on the.  That was sad to stand and look down in the ground and see spots of yellow, red, and orange which would have one day been tulips.

I also recall coming home one evening about dusk and seeing 3 baby skunks playing on the grass.  My Chile dog used to get sprayed by skunks on a regular basis.  The remedy for skunk spraying is a bath in tomato juice.  After going through 40 quarts of tomato juice one season, I finally talked to the dog groomer and she told me she used Massengill Douche Powder.  That was way better.  Course the druggist looked at me a little strangely when I told him I wanted a pound of the stuff!  I was a tad naïve in those days.

Snakes and foxes, coyotes and chicken hawks.  centipedes and mice.  Always something creepy, crawly, or slimy set to ruin my day.  But I love my little piece of earth out here and I love my little 2400 square foot house.  I guess if strange animals wander in and relieve themselves on my yard, I can live with that.  I am not real fond of cleaning the house or burning the weeds or any of the mundane chores that daily life requires of me, but it is what it is and if this is the worst thing fate can throw me, I can live with that!

Ah, the age of innocence!

This is a picture I have that is very old and I have had for many years.  Since I have geese it seems apropos that I have it.  Along with that I have a family history that details how great grandma and  other relatives before that raised geese.  They also raised sorghum and made molasses.  This may actually be a picture of me.  Probably not, though.

Here is another one by a different artist.  This one is a print.  The title is To New Pastures.  Either picture by either artist is basically the same.  This was back when leggings and boots and tending the flock was what it was.  Geese are funny little things.  You herd them.  I walk behind mine and they go where I point.  A cow, or horse or even a dog is led or at least they follow.

.

What do you suppose this little girl is thinking about while tending the geese?  Video games were not even a concept back then.  Running water was probably not in her home.  She may or may not have attended school.  Not all girls did back in those days.  She probably was married by the time she was 13 or 14 and had her own family before she turned 20.  Things like that do not seems plausible today, but it was a different age then.

This is my grandson.  Herding the geese comes natural to him.  On days when he is coming, I do not let the geese out until he arrives.  I carry my camera so I can get a third picture for my wall.  I guess this is as close as I am going to get!

He prefers a sunflower to a stick when it comes to herding.

Well, actually he needs 2 sunflowers!

We are pretty sure he will be ambidextrous.  And after all that herding, he needs a nap!

How different his life already is from the little girl above!  He spends grandma time watching youtube and Wheels on the bus.  He arrives in a red car when mom and daddy bring him.  A "walk" consists of a stoller or buggy.  Whatever they are called.

It is hard to imagine, but the same blood runs in his veins that runs in mine.  Will his memories be the same as this little girl?  I don't know.  I am hoping that on some level we are the same.  I feel that I have a link with my kids, grand kids, great grandkids, but do they have the link with me?  As much as my kids try to be different from me, they stay the same.  They try to branch off and become their own person, but deep down, they crave home made noodles and a needle in their hand.  

I guess, what I am trying to say is, I think somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I have memories that belonged to my ancestors.  I would love to go under hypnosis and see if I am another Bridey Murphy.  Are there dreams that are actually memories?  

Or am I just nuts?

Barefeet and chicken poop.

When my daughter, Dona Marie, came to see me over Mother's Day, she gave me a pedicure.  I have always had rather pretty feet, or so I think.  She did a beautiful job and finished off with a very nice massage and pink polish on the nail part.  A very wonderful Mothers Day gift in my opinion and I do thank her for that.  Wish she lived with me!
I must confess that due to the development of a little problem called Morton's Neuroma, my second toe now has a tendency to want to point skyward.  Not only is this uncomfortable but it detracts from the beauty of my foot.  It also sometimes makes walking long distances a real challenge.  Nonetheless, it is what it is and until I can carve out a block of time when I do not need my foot,  I will live with the condition.  I suppose I can just cut a hole in the top of my shoe and let toe #2 poke out into the outside world, but I am not quite ready to go that route.  It would definitely be a conversation starter, or a very awkward moment when making new acquaintances.  I am missing the point here.
Fast backward to Nickerson, Kansas 65 years ago.  Plus or minus on that.  We lived on a dirt road without benefit of running water and bath night occurred on Saturday night.  Now since we were basically heathens running the streets and did not attend church, I do not know why Saturday night was special.  I do not remember if I have explained that bath situation to you or not, but I will touch on it briefly.  Bath time consisted of a round metal tub which mother filled with water heated on the stove.  Baby Dorothy was always first since she was little.  Then Mary followed by Donna and then me.  By this time the water was getting a little gray and had a scum on top which gave a whole new meaning to "bath."  I do not remember how, when or where the older kids took their baths, but I strongly suspect Jake was a river rat.  Josephine must have privacy because she had actual breasts! Mom and dad were always a mystery to me.
So back to the feet.  In the fall we all got a brand new pair of shoes for the first day of school.  There were 2 days a year that were sacred.  Every Sunday and the first day of school  Money was saved all year so when it came time momma would set down with dad and open the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  The middle of the catalog was where there was an outline of a foot and we each took a turn at standing on the outline while mother figured out our size.  Louella-size 4, Donna-size 3...you get the idea.  Then we were given a choice of color.  We could have brown or black.  My God!  I remember when saddle oxfords came into being and how bad I wanted a pair.  They were white with black or white with brown.  I might as well have wanted the moon.  Brown it was for me and brown for all the other kids so one did not feel privileged.  Now comes the part you are not going to believe. 
When the order was all filled out with size and color (brown) the total amount owed plus the postage was figured and the amount was carefully counted out, placed in an envelope and sealed.  The amount was written on the outside along with the name and address the shoes should be sent to when ready.  This money was placed inside the order blank which was placed in the envelope from the Sears and Roebuck catalog and mailed off to the head office.  There was never a question about whether it was safe to send money through the mail or not.  That was just how it was done.  Then we began the wait for our shoes to come.  It usually took 5-6 weeks and the day they arrived was like the second coming!  Our shoes were here!  Of course we were allowed to try them on, but we had to wash our feet first and be sure they were dry.  Then they were placed carefully under the bed to await the first day of school. 
I can recall how proud we were as we traipsed off to school in our new shoes.  And we wore those shoes until about the first of March.  By then our feet had grown enough that our shoes were getting tight.    At that point, Josephine went shoeless, and I stepped into her "hand me downs".  They were a little too big, but I tied them tight and they stayed on my feet pretty much.   My shoes were handed down to Donna, Donna's to Mary and you get the picture.  By summer we were all through with shoes and we ran barefoot every where we went. 
Did I tell you we had chickens running loose in the yard along with Muscovy Ducks?  Kansas is hot, humid and the soil in Nickerson was mostly dust.  I guess you would call it sandy.  Of course!  That is where they pick Sand Hill Plums by the bushel basket!  I can recall running my toes down into the sand  and thinking that this was surely heaven.  We ran barefooted across fields and through the cemetery and into Bull Creek.  Of course we ran through the chicken poop and the duck poop.  We were kids, that was what we did.  When bedtime came there was one rule and that was we HAD to wash our feet before we got into bed.  And we did.  There was a basin in the kitchen and momma made sure we went to bed with clean feet.  To this day, no matter where I am, or what I have been doing, my feet are going to be clean before I go to bed.  Usually I have socks on all day, but not always shoes, so my feet are not dirty, but unless I am dead tired my feet are going to get a quick rinse, just in case there might be a little dust or goose poop on them!  One can not be too careful you know.
When I write about my days of long ago I get very nostalgic.  I miss my momma and I guess I always will.  I miss the old home place although it is no longer there.  I guess what I miss most is that I had someone to take care of me and someone who had to love me.  When I was young all I wanted was to get older and get out on my own.  I wish I knew then what I know now!  I really think life would be much better lived in reverse.

If it is snowing, it must be spring!

This was last week.  Mid week I think when it snowed'

This was Saturday of last week when I hosted the 3rd Annual High Tea at our church.

And now we come to this week.  I have been out cutting trees that are in places they do not belong.  Oh, I bet your first thought was "You should wear a shirt."  I already thought of that and can you imagine what these arms would look like had I NOT worn a shirt?  All I can say is, "I must be a tad bit suicidal!

But isn't Springtime in the Rockies wonderful?  Just never know what to expect.  Last night the furnace ran most of the night.  Today the air conditioner beat a steady rhythm and now I am starting to open windows to let a little cool air in before the furnace kicks on!  Where else can we enjoy all four seasons every day?

On a good note, the onions are up.  So are the potatoes and Zucchini!  One little Basil plant is struggling for survival.  3 tomato plants are looking poorly in the garden; one is flourishing and 2 more in the trash can are actually blooming.  The broccoli, peppers, watermelons, cauliflower and cucumbers are sprouting in the tiny greenhouse under my deck chair.  The house next door is vacant for a while and I been running the geese over there to eat weeds on the back acre.  They are very happy.  I am very happy, but Big R is a little pissy because I am not buying grain this month.  Happy pocket book!

I walked over to Jackie's the other morning and took a short walk yesterday so I am hoping that this will help me with my health problems.  Probably going to have to walk more than that, but I seen 2 big dogs and they scared me.    I do not want to get eaten by strange dogs. 

I have had several people tell me that they miss my regular writing on this blog, so I am going to try to do better in that department.  See, I have been getting lazy and sometimes sleeping in until 6 or so and then my day has taken flight by that time.  I think of brilliant things to write about when I am laying in bed at night, but then I doze off and my genius is lost!  I now have a clipboard by the bed and hopefully I can begin to function once more as a productive member of society. 

Take my hand and walk with me for the best is yet to be!  (or something like that)